#All we did was Poor plant water on his head and suggest he doesn’t roll off of a cliff .

[glitterhoof]

raging at junimo cart on shane’s bday today

[sukirichi]

black magic [02]

request. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife) + sukuna’s first time with his wife

cw. slight angst, insecurities, lots of making out, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, sukuna worships reader, spitting, cum eating, teasing! sukuna, face-off kamasutra position, soft dom! sukuna, unedited fic, pwp

song inspo. leave the door open (bruno mars)

note. i want a husband sukuna 

part one | part two

Sukuna gently takes your palm into his, soft and warm lips meeting your bruised knuckles that have seen years of hard work in exorcising curses like him. Uncanny that he showed so much affection to his enemy by nature, treating you with such care and tenderness that shouldn’t have been so possible for an evil creature like him. You’re supposed to love it, be grateful for it, yet his sweet gestures only irritate you, even more so when he retires to bed just like that without even so much sparing a glance your way.

You’ve been married for a year now that you’ve had enough of his confusing gestures towards you. One moment, he was showering you with love, regarding you like you were the light of his life before he’s walking away the next moment and pretending you don’t exist.

He was so infuriating. He would kiss you and hold you, but never touch you or be in the same room with you any longer than an hour. Even in bed, he’s always making sure his back is turned to you, peeling your arms off of him each time you attempt to cuddle him on times it got too cold. It hurts and dwells dangerously at the back of your mind – it would’ve been better if he got angry at you and announced he despised you, but he never did – that his hot and cold nature bothered you more than anything else.

You’ve eventually had enough that you just stopped caring. Barging in during his bath time, your nostrils flare upon seeing your husband so relaxed in the tub. Even after a year of marriage, he’s so unaffected and unaware by your need for him.

He really doesn’t care.

“Little one,” Sukuna blinks as he sits up from the tub, strong arms hanging off the edges of the bed. You admit; he really was beautiful and a desirable man that you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but crave the one thing you knew you weren’t supposed to have. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not want me?” you suddenly demand, tears already streaming down your face faster than you would like. Hell, you never wanted to cry in the first place. “Am I not desirable enough for you?”

Sukuna chuckles nervously.

Oh, great, now he’s nervous around you?

“What are you going on about?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap, “Every time we go to bed, you always put some distance between us and keep to your side of the bed. You push me away when I try to reach for you and you never touch me or kiss me on the lips. I-I understand this marriage was against your will, but I’m still your wife and I need you, okay?” chest tightening uncomfortably, you place a hand over your poor, aching heart that is further crippled when Sukuna’s face falls. “I just feel like...you’re sickened by me, like you cannot stand to be with me in the same room as me. It makes me feel like...it would’ve been better if I wasn’t here.”

You don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting from him after your outburst, but definitely not him standing up to loom over you. You respectfully avert your eyes from the sinful image of water dripping down his defined body, but it’s too late and he’s too close already that you won’t be surprised if he can hear your heartbeat pumping frantically.

He was large and imposing, truly a terrifying sight right before you especially with his tattoos that trail and wrap all around his muscular thighs, yet you’re not nervous because he could hurt you.

Rather, you’re agitated because he’s so close, so within reach that if you step a little closer, you could easily find the warmth you’ve been dreaming of for so long.

You’re frustrated because you want him though you shouldn’t.

Just then, Sukuna caresses your cheek and pulls the both of you back in the tub with you above him, and him lazily grinning above you. You gasp, abashed, that your clothes were soaked to the brim and it stuck close to your damp skin until it took the shape of your silhouette. Sukuna, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he eyes your pebbled nipples poking through the thin material of your nightgown and simply drags you forward on his thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“You really have no idea, do you?” he whispers lowly, his long claws carefully tracing down the sides of your jaw. “My innocent, little lamb...the reason I distance myself from you is because every waking day that you are right beside me, my self-restraint thins, and I’m not sure I can hold back a little longer from you taming me,” Sukuna’s dark eyes brims with something unreadable as he holds your gaze. The look he wears is beyond intense that he takes your breath away, literally, and you’re left gaping at him silently. “I push you away because I want you more than anything else, but I respect you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You-you want me?”

“Clearly, little one, you’re inherently unaware of how captivating you are,” Sukuna says as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you shiver at his words – or from the cold water, you don’t really know. “Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you. I may not stop once I get a taste of you. Like I said before – I won’t touch you unless you asked.”

You do remember him saying that from your first time together, but your head goes blank, and no words leave your lips even as you mouth nonsense.

Sukuna taps your lips. “Speak, little one. You need to use your big girl words.”

“Kiss me,” you vociferated in one breath, desperately clutching on your thighs. “Please.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away as his eyes narrow into suspicion, but soon he’s tugging at your collar to bring you down for a heated kiss. Sukuna is tugging your robes down until your collarbones are exposed, his tongue and lips leaving yours to leave marks and love bites all over the patch of skin instead. You tug at his hair as you crane your neck to the side, succumbing to the undeniable pleasure his warmth and greediness consumes you with.

Grinding down on his groin, you notice he’s already hard. Hard for you, and this realization makes you kiss him back hungrily as you whimper above him.

Sukuna is feverishly sucking on your tongue and pawing at your breasts the next instant before the spell is immediately broken just as it happened. For before you could reciprocate the same amount of eagerness he kissed you with, Sukuna is already sliding you off of him until you’re on the other side of the tub, left staring at him wordlessly with his lips red and swollen.

“Not today, little one. I think that’s enough.”

You hear your heart shatter into pieces. Pride; it was about the only thing you had, but it seemed even that had been taken away from you.

“You really don’t want me.”

Your voice cracked as your eyes began to tear up.

“No, love, that’s not what I meant,” he groans into his hands, “Believe me, I’d spent enough nights sweaty and frustrated knowing I can’t ravish you and have those lush thighs around me already,” waiting for him to continue, Sukuna sighs and holds you closer, though he could only caress your knee right now that you’re wary of getting hurt again. “This is your first time, okay? I want to make it special for you – you’re not experiencing bliss with me if it happens impulsively with you barging in my bath.”

Something like hope lights up inside you.

“Y-you’ll really do that for me?”

“Tch, brat, don’t go all soft on me now. I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience even further,” he playfully flicks your forehead when you tried to kiss him again, but Sukuna is already tilting his cheek to other side before you could. You would’ve been heartbroken again that he’s refused you, but his words held more than reassurance – and so did his uncomfortably hard cock – that all previous insecurities vanished into thin air.

Sukuna grabs you by the waist to plant your feet on the ground outside the tub, carrying you as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll to him. “Now go and get changed. I’ll fuck you another time.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he commented sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, though his smile turned genuinely warm the last minute. “I’ll make love to you when you’re ready.”

He must’ve lied.

You’re annoyed because Sukuna is intentionally avoiding you and acting like you don’t exist. Pissed off, you go into a curse exorcising spree to get the King of Curses out of your mind, reminding yourself that he was vile like them and he didn’t deserve even a second of your time.

Although no matter how hard you tried, your mind still kept racing back to him even as you come back home, bloody and tired when you realize the temple is eerily quiet. Not a living soul could be found around, no servant fretted at your arrival and your husband most definitely did not lurk in the shadows like he usually did. The only sign the temple hadn’t been abandoned yet were the lines of candles trailing down the hall to your shared room with him, and you gasp as you see the petals decorating the bed and rose-scented candles lit everywhere.

Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

But he was felt as he kisses your neck, his hands untying the knots of your yukata. You stiffen in reflex before relaxing as soon you recognize his scent. Behind you, Sukuna pauses, his lips still in the column of your neck.

“You’re upset.” He wasn’t asking; rather observing.

“Not anymore,” you mumble in response, although you weren’t entirely convinced even as you come closer to the bed, your husband trailing behind with his pinky looped to yours. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you,” you hide your smile for him, not wanting him to see that it’s so easy to alleviate your anger to him. He has to earn your approval again, so you turn to him with a forced scowl and arms crossed against your chest. “But why were you ignoring me for days?”

You intended to look intimidating, but the King of Curses only laughed.

“You look cute when you’re mad. Plus, it made you want me more than you already do, didn’t it?” he chastised, the implications of his words making you pout in humiliation. Sukuna is quick to step closer to you, cupping your cheeks into his hand, and you hated how easily you leaned into his touch. Nevertheless, you turned away from him, using all your energy to muster your most serious ‘I’m not bothered’ face.

“Aw, don’t be shy, it’s written all over your face, little one,” he breathes on the shell of your ear, hands trailing down to lightly drape your clothes below your shoulders. Unable to hold it back, you end up shivering at his featherlike touches.

“It’s okay. I loved hearing your soft whimpers every time you touched yourself in the bath, thinking that I’m probably not around to hear, hm? You forget I sense everything,” his laugh is mocking yet laced with lust, “From the frantic singing of your heart, the way you tense up a little when I’m around, or the way those beautiful legs of yours clench together each time my robe is a little loosened,” Sukuna dips his nose right under your jaw where his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe down your neck, and just like that, you’re breathlessly clutching on his white robes that are already unfastened. Damned tease.

“Even the smell of your arousal is enticing me to enrapture you right now, little one. I can practically hear the silent begging in that pretty little head of yours.”

You forgot how to breathe.

“B-but I’m dirty, I just finished exorcising curses.”

“Would it be comedic if I said I am aroused at the thought my wife could easily end me right here and now?” shaking your head at him, Sukuna smiles mysteriously. “But you won’t, would you? You need me too much for that,” he leans closer than he already was before, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me, do you want me?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “Please, Sukuna, touch me.”

“It’s my love to you.”

“Not Your Majesty?”

“Hmm, that is delightful to hear as well,” he says, “But let’s our drop our titles. For now, whatever happens between us is intimately between man and wife. Now go clean up, little one. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re ready.”

You waste no time into darting to the bath, scrubbing the blood and dirt on each nook and crevice of your body until you’re squeaky clean. You’re about to head back to bed when you quickly practice puckering your lips to make yourself look desirable, muttering hopefully flirty lines that would make your husband want you more before calling it quits from the embarrassment you caused upon yourself.

By the time you’ve completely dried and moisturized yourself to absolute perfection that you’re confident of yourself, you find Sukuna emptily staring into the ceilings. “Done already? Someone’s eager.”

You roll your eyes at him. Why did you like him again?

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly, little one,” he confides, patting his thighs to encourage you to climb onto him. Now that things were actually getting real and your endless dreams would soon become reality, your palms grow sweaty as you settle yourself onto his lap. “You tell me right away if I’m hurting you, you understand? One word and I’ll stop; though I doubt you’ll be in your right mind to want to stop once I’ve had my way with you.”

You don’t really understand much of what he’s saying anymore.

He’s kissing you so slowly, so passionately and you’re both undressing each other that nothing but desire and lust clouds your thoughts in that moment. You’re drunk on the sweet taste of him, his natural musky scent beyond intoxicating for your mortal self to handle. Too lost in the bliss of finally being intimate with him, you don’t realize Sukuna has already pushed your towel down until it pools at your waists. His sharp intake of breath is the only thing that pulls you back to reality as he greedily takes in each beautiful curve and dip of your body.

His stare is so fervid that you grow shy and cover yourself, where Sukuna quickly grips your wrist as a warning. “No. You do not hide yourself from me.”

“Then stop staring too much.”

“Is it a sin to appreciate divine beauty?” he tilts his head to the side and blinks at you innocently. “You are ethereal, my wife.”

Before you could be too flustered to respond, Sukuna fortunately saves you from the embarrassment by kissing you again, though it doesn’t last long before his mouth is trailing from your collarbone and down to your breasts. You mewl as Sukuna eagerly sucks on one breast, the other showered with attention from his rough, calloused palms. Meanwhile, you push his clothes away to expose his strong shoulders which you use as leverage because his ministrations make you feel like you’re losing control over your own body.

Rolling your hips on his erect cock, Sukuna groans through your skin, squeezing your breast hard enough that you can’t take it anymore right after he tweaks your nipple. “Love, please, I need you right now.”

“Patience, little one,” he reminds, “I need to prepare you well.”

“I’ve been waiting for months, Sukuna, I’m sure I’m more than ready.”

“Emotionally, sure, but physically?” he chuckles darkly, “Little one, do you not understand your nimble fingers cannot compare to my cock? I might hurt you if you’re not stretched out enough.”

“Then stop kissing me and start—” you’re cut off with a gasp, your nails sinking down harder into his skin the moment his fingers began to rub at your pussy. “Y-your claws—”

“I kept them for years, but I had to cut them just for you, little one. What do you have to say about that?”

“Thank you,” you offer with a breathy moan, head falling into his shoulder from the overwhelming yet welcomed intrusion. “Oh, Sukuna, it’s too good, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he bites the shell of your ear and tugs at the lobe, basically biting it between his teeth to distract you from another long and thick digit pushing past your walls. “One more?”

“O-oh!” his thumb has now joined the party by rubbing soothing circles on your clit, effortlessly pulling your lips aside with the rest of his digits to expose your sensitive bundles of nerves for him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, watching and drinking in the face you make – pleasure written all over your features from the swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and desire pooling in swirls of curiosity and eagerness. It’s a face he never wants to forget; a face he wants to see more of that Sukuna eventually lays you down against the pillows, admiring how unreal you looked in that moment.

Hair splayed all over the pillow, legs spread wide open with his hands caressing your core, and a strong arm gripping his with small gasps accompanied by desperate calls for his name to do more, please you more – your words instantly translate into commands.

“You are so beautiful,” Sukuna praises rather angrily, “Never forget that. Each inch of you, fuck, you are the most dangerous mortal, you know that?”

You don’t have time to react before he’s going down on you and spreads your legs apart, keeping them pinned down to the bed. The stretch hurts but he easily soothes your pain by massaging your inner thighs, crawling down to kiss your ankles, then licking all the way up to your knee where he stops for a second, only to happily be on your sopping cunt the next moment. He’s peppering barely there kisses to your inner thighs just on your outer lips, his breath warm and teasing on your heat.

It feels like he intends to ruin you tonight.

“Sukuna, stop teasing!”

“What do you want me to do, little one?” he grins from between your legs, the vibrations of his chuckles resonating deep within your cunt that sporadically clenches right in front of his face that’s shamelessly imprinting your scent deep into his memory. “How can I make you feel good?”

“You know how!”

“You need to tell me so I know. I can’t read your mind.”

“Your mouth...”

Sukuna’s smile grows wider the longer you struggle to find your words, but exactly how in the world could you say such vulgar things out loud? He is far more patient tonight than any other day, however, that Sukuna props himself to his elbows to peer up at you innocently. “Where do you want my mouth and what should I do with it?”

Swallowing the rest of your pride, you finally utter: “T-taste me...down there.”

“Here?” he prods your clit, pulling a high-pitched gasp from you. Your husband’s smirk is nothing short of condescending just before he finally kisses your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth until you writhe before him. It takes minimal effort for someone of his strength to hold your legs in place, his grip just tight enough to be commanding. The thought of being completely in his mercy made your head spin in circles, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure he was blessing yet torturing you with. “You’re so responsive, little one. I’m honoured I’m the one who gets to make you feel like this.”

“M-more, please, I need more.”

You expect him to tease you further, but your husband must’ve noticed that you’re too edged and decided to have pity on you. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s wrapping his lips around your pussy, treating it as if it were your own lips that always tasted like honey.

Sukuna is completely immersed in the act of pleasuring you with his tongue only, so much so that he’s silent aside from the little hums he lets out while you moan for him.

Unable to care about being too loud anymore (not that you needed to since Sukuna had made everyone go back home to give you both privacy) you find yourself throwing your head back, legs falling open wider to grant him deeper access to your most sensitive parts. Sukuna continues to massage your inner thighs and even drags the back of your knee to rest on his muscular back littered with battle scars and tattoos, the dark markings on his skin flexing with each movement. His eyes are closed and his nose is grazing against your swollen clit that had reddened already, your pussy lips opening up like a new world he had to explore, and explore he would.

Your hands find solace in his hair the shade of gentle sunsets that were often shared in lazy kisses and subtle touches, nails dragging across his scalp just enough to make your husband hiss right between your legs. Something begins to tighten in your belly as you grind your clit onto his face, too absorbed in the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue now poking against your entrance and the past barrier slowly blooming open to welcome him.

With shaking legs and a chest drenched in sweat, pebbled nipples further stimulated by the cold breeze drifting in from the windows, your eyes snap open as that rope snapped deep within your belly.

Your gaze shoots down below you to watch your husband ardently lapping your juices like a man starved. Now this wasn’t new to you – you’ve heard enough about the King of Curses and his bloodlust. Whispers of his thirst and desire to slay entire towns and even feast on mortals’ souls was enough to keep you at bay when you were still a young sorcerer, for it was already a blatant warning that Sukuna would feed on anything and anyone, that his hunger was quite something that couldn’t be satiated.

But seeing him unhinged and a slave to pleasing you has never felt more erotic that you ride out your orgasm, toes curling and legs trembling every now and then from the aftershocks of your high.

Slowly, Sukuna darts out his tongue one last time just to leave a teasing touch to your clit before he’s crawling right above you again. The ceiling is obscured by his large frame hovering over you, arms trapped between your head and his gallant member poking just between your thighs. You end up shivering under him as your husband regards you – with affection, pride, curiosity – gentle in comparison to his true nature in caressing your cheek, both of you unbothered by the slick that meets your skin.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, watching your fucked out smile bloom into a felicitous grin.

“Perfect,” you mumble, although rather shyly. You’d seen him naked before, but never hard, and never with the intention that soon you’d truly be connected – in heart, in body, in mind, and in soul. The thought makes your heart skip a beat, your eyelids growing hooded as Sukuna absentmindedly traces patterns on the curve of your hip. “Sukuna...you’re perfect.”

Your husband laughs, the sound of his glee contagious that you’re chuckling with him as well. “Have you seen yourself, little one? I think I fall for you harder each day.”

His sudden confession brings about a silence in the room, but it wasn’t comfortable, and neither was it tense. If anything, it destroys any traces of previous hesitation and pent up anger that’s only been formed in the first place due to the fact he was Curse and you a sorcerer.

The nature of your relationship had been paradoxical to begin with, perhaps even beastly, but nothing was beastly about it now as you wrap an arm around his neck to bring him closer to you. And Sukuna was just that – the man, the Curse, the feared King whose simple mention of his name made mere mortals tremble – the same person that somehow understands your silence better than anyone. No words were needed when he could read your mind and knew his way around your heart a little too much, not once leaving his lips on yours as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you before him. Both of your skins are hot and flushed, yet you’re greedily touching and pulling at one another, his large palms clawing at your ass to pry your pussy lips open while you drag your nails down his chest.

He grunts into your mouth; the sound deep and masculine that it vibrates all the way down to your core. You gasp into his mouth – your breath immediately swallowed by his tongue that dances with yours – once you feel him slip inside.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You’ve fought and exorcised countless of curses that pain was no stranger to you at this point, but never had you felt so...alien to a sensation both tragic and addicting. Pulling away to breathe air back into your lungs, your forehead knocks with Sukuna until your noses are brushing against the others, mouth hanging open as your walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Oh, oh god,” you mewl above him, eyes wide open as you witness each inch of his cock disappearing from the motion of you swallowing his length whole. He was big; terrifyingly so, and you shake with fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him or that he might rip you apart. “Su-Sukuna—”

“You’re fine,” he reassures by pulling your cheeks back to him, your delicate face trapped between his rough hands. Although his eyes are dark with lust, there’s a tenderness behind them that placates you. “You can tell me to stop if it hurts. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

There’s no lie or hesitation behind your voice. Sukuna watches your face carefully to detect any sign of discomfort, but you want this, want him, and the pleasure combined with the tolerable sting only makes you desire him even more. The mere fact that there had to be pain and sacrifice, that you had to place your whole trust in him before you could truly succumb to the pleasure and love that created light and hope in this world was enough for you to want to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and Sukuna wipes away the frown on your face with the pads of his fingers.

He allows you to go at your own pace until you’re completely seated on his cock, the heated member throbbing so hard inside you that you think he’s poking and prodding right deep into a place where you could hold him close the most.

It’s too much and too good that for once, you let your walls crash down as you bury yourself in his shoulder. Sukuna holds you closer by pulling you right into his chest, large arms wrapped around your frame while your breasts tease the rugged and taut muscles of his body. Even the slightest movement of you adjusting yourself on his lap makes his cock graze against your bumpy walls that you’re both moaning left and right. As you struggle to make sense of the sensations bursting within you, Sukuna’s self restraint hangs dangerously by a piece of thread. You can tell by how he’s cupping your ass and lifting your body up effortlessly before he slides you back down on his thick pole, that single, simple gesture repeated over and over again along with him bringing his hips back up to meet your warmth sending a scorching heat all over your body.

“Love, that’s, fuck,” you curse incoherently, and upon hearing a profanity leave your otherwise innocent lips makes something snap inside your husband.

Sukuna is gripping onto your hips for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, tilting his head back just to scrutinize your connected bodies. A thick ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock until it slides down on his veiny cock, sounds of skin slapping against skin and the loud squelching of your pussy even more beautiful than the screams mortals have moments right before their death in his hands. But Sukuna be damned – you felt too good that this might as well have been his death.

“You feel so fucking good,” he praises through gritted teeth, easily manhandling you and throwing you back on the bed where he’s on you in a second. “Look at you, little one, taking my huge cock so well. It’s like you’re made just for me – you want to be with me, don’t you? I would please you, fuck you good every day, yes, fuck!”

Sukuna ended up hitting a spot that equated to uncharted territory, causing you to tighten around him with a sharp cry. “Oh, right there, right there!” you rub your clit for further stimulation, moaning louder when he hoists both your legs on his chest.

He presses your legs and hugs his around his arms, flipping it to the side until your feet are right beside his ears. Sukuna has gone completely feral – his pace and drive animalistic, growling like a predator consuming his prey before he softens, kissing your ankles just as he grips your legs to make them squish together. The sudden lack of space makes your pussy tighter and more sensitive for him that you’re fisting the sheets right beside you, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. You’re babbling mindlessly on how good he’s making you feel, completely limp and motionless under him from how deep he’s hitting.

“Please, please, please—” you cry out, reaching out just seconds away from your orgasm with the need to touch him. Sukuna gives in and lets go of your legs until they fall at your side, stretching you out further from when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

He’s caressing your cheeks and swipes a thumb over your tears, quite nearly folding your half. His balls are slapping against your ass the harder he thrusts inside you, but his hips are stuttering and he’s panting right beside your ear that you can tell he’s close. It prompts you to wiggle under him to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and clutching his scalp just to have him impossibly close, because even thinking about letting him go sounds too painful, especially now that he’s claimed you as his just as you’ve marked him yours.

“I worship you,” he blurts out with a few final thrusts that has you crumbling under him in a silent scream, your focus completely on his dark, passionate eyes as you came. Sukuna then laces his fingers through yours while he pumps himself inside you, your walls milking him of everything he’s got. “You are divine, my wife, you have bewitched me for eternity.”

“Sukuna,” you call out weakly, and he’s quick to litter kisses all over your face from your whimpers. “Sukuna-I-I—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” Sukuna places a finger on your lips, letting you calm down from that earth shattering orgasm he just gave you. He pulls his spent dick out a minute later and scoops up your cum that’s spilling out from your pussy lips, his gaze never leaving yours the whole while he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. He’s so dirty and erotic that you’re clenching around nothing once more, but he shakes his head with a low chuckle as if he can sense you want more. Sukuna kisses you just to transfer the cum mixed with spit right onto your tongue, gripping your jaw when your eyes widen at him. “Swallow it, little one. That’s just a taste of what I could give to you.”

You don’t know what pulled you to actually swallow it – it tastes bitter and even a little salty, though it had a bittersweet tinge of scent to it that you don’t mind, especially not when Sukuna just stares at you like you’re most his prized possession.

Sukuna is right by your side the next moment. He’s tamed the next moment, pure comfort and bliss from the way he’s tenderly running his fingers up and down the sides of your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you around him. You both don’t say anything as you place your cheek right above his chest, arms locked on his chest in a desperate cling, but neither does he want you to let go. Sukuna threads his fingers on your hair before you feel his lips caress the crown of your head, mumbling sweet nothings right as you’re welcoming sleep.

Until he taps your breast.

“Little one?”

“Yes?”

“We never had our honeymoon, do we?” he queries, and you twist your head to face him as your brows draw together in thought.

“No, I don’t think we did. I pushed you away from me on our first night together, remember?”

Sukuna’s eyes shone with mischief. “How could I forget? You tried to kill me right after our wedding,” both of you share a laugh at the memory, though there were no more harsh feelings or contempt shared, only love, and love only. Sukuna softens under your gaze as your chuckles tinker down to a giggle, your finger teasingly drawing circles on his chest as you bite your lip. And like always, Sukuna knows you just a little too well. “I know that look. What is it that you want, little one?”

“You.”

“Me?” he repeats with a dark chuckle that sends heat right down to your womanhood. “You already have me, little one, your wish has been granted a long time ago.”

Your face burns. “I mean, I want you. Again. One more.”

“One more?”

“Or maybe a lot more,” you pipe up, but Sukuna’s smirk is growing more and more devious that your former tenacity soon dwindles down into meekness. “O-only if you want to. You must be tired.”

“Little one, I’m the King of Curses, did you really think I would be tired from fucking my sweet little wife?” At his words, Sukuna tilts your chin until you’re left with no choice but to be held captive under his lust. He leans down to teasingly bite your bottom lip, and you’re already breathing hard as you feel his hands begin to trail down to your core that’s more than eager to take him all over again. “Like I said, I worship you, and I’m nothing but a bewitched man who would gladly fuck his wife as long as she asks.”

Safe to say, you couldn’t exorcise curses for quite some time.

[nostalgiabones]

Simple Sunday Afternoons // CH

This is just a random thing I wrote one day after talking to @calumrose as always lmao. I didn’t intend to post it but I think it’s a just a nice soft Sunday so, I thought I would! I also just wanted to make the point that the little moodboards I’ve made aren’t representative of what any of the ‘characters’ look like — they just represent the concept of the blurb! Let me know what you think, and as always, reblogs and feedback is so appreciated! ❤️

Word count: 4.2k

“Good morning,”

A warm smile rises on Calum’s lips at the words as he flips a pancake in a pan, clad in only his grey joggers and a messy mop of curls upon his head, along with the glasses he’s taken to wearing more often recently. He doesn’t hear the giggles or yawns of your daughter, just some of her usual sounds in the morning, and assumes you’re entering the kitchen alone without her.

He doesn’t have a chance to turn around and check before you’re wrapping your arms around his waist — his warm skin soothing against your own. It’s not often you get little moments alone like this — not without a baby in between the two of you, either resting in his arms or your own. Not that it’s anything to complain about; the two of you love Mara more than life itself. You just miss getting to hold Calum for a little longer in the mornings.

“Yes, it is,” Calum replies, taking one of your hands in his own, lifting it to his face and brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Where’s the little one?”

You rest your cheek against him, just wanting to be close, wanting your skin on his. “I just put her down for an early nap, she was kinda fussy. I think her teeth are coming in.”

He nods, pouting at the thought of his sweet daughter being in pain.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on her,” He states, and you nod in agreement. “She’s probably going to be asleep a while, isn’t she? Do you want to go back to bed?”

You take a sip of coffee from the mug on the counter, not caring whether it was his or one he made for you. Everything he has is yours, and vice versa — even something as insignificant as coffee. He feels the same way about your heart.

“We finally have some time together, I don’t want to waste it sleeping,” You murmur, your palm sliding down his back, the gesture familiar and soothing to him. Goosebumps break out over his skin.

“Okay, well..” He turns down the heat on the stove, moving the hot pan to a cold ring in order not to burn himself when he gets distracted by you. He spins around, a hand landing on either side of your hip, his nose brushing yours as he leans in. “I could just stand here...” he interrupts himself by brushing his lips against yours. “And kiss you instead.”

You sigh against his lips and bask in the moment, one that is so rare nowadays. He notices you pout and he chuckles — his warm palms landing on the small of your back.

“What’s up with you, pouty?” He asks, keeping your face close, his eyes searching your face.

“I miss kissing you,” You whine, and he can’t help but kiss you again with the way you’re looking at him. You think back to Sunday’s before Mara — it feels like a different lifetime, but it wasn’t so long ago. Now days are filled with tears, smiles, happy baby giggles and messy meal times — but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if the only time you got to be close to Calum was at bedtime, once Mara had gone down.

“You can kiss me whenever you want, baby,” He replies, his pointer finger brushing up your cheek as he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“I know, but we don’t get time anymore,” You remind him, and he nods. You know you both need to make more of a conscious effort to spend quality time with each other — instead of trying to clean the whole house whilst Mara is napping. “It’s nice to be close to you like this.”

“Maybe Mara should grow some teeth more often.” He jokes, and you slap his chest playfully as he laughs.

“Don’t say that! She’s in pain,” You scold him, your hands pressed against his chest as he holds you close. “You won’t be saying that when she wakes up in a bad mood and won’t sleep tonight.”

He knows you’re right. As much as he jokes, there’s nothing he hates more than seeing his sweet girl in pain — whether it’s her teeth or anything else.

“Touché.” He smiles, kissing you once more. “Do you want to eat? I made pancakes.”

“But that means we have to stop kissing,” You sigh, and he can’t help but laugh at you once more. Calum brushes his lips against yours, his hands rubbing up and down the tops of your arms as you stand there. There’s something about seeing you in one of his t-shirts that goes straight to his heart every single time — even after being married for several years.

“Come on, pouty. Let’s have one meal uninterrupted before we have to deal with a grumpy Mara.”

***

“Cal, I need to get up,”

The sounds of Mara’s cries fill your ears as you gently push on Calum’s shoulders; trying to get him to move from where he’s fallen asleep on your lap so you can get up to get her. The two of you decided to watch a movie (or as much as you can get away with) whilst Mara slept, yet less than halfway through, Calum had fallen asleep with his face pressed against your chest.

“Mara is crying,” You murmur, brushing your fingers through his hair to rouse him a little more as he wakes up. “I need to go get her.”

He shifts in your lap and leans on one arm so you can get up, almost face planting the sofa once you stand up and he’s left there alone. He yawns and listens to the soothing words slipping from your lips as you approach Mara’s bedroom, already knowing you’ll be met with her sad eyes and messy hair. Her cries slow down but your voice gets louder as you head back to the lounge, and he sits up so he can take her.

“Look who it is,” You kiss Mara’s temple as you carry her through to where Calum is, her tired eyes lighting up as she spots her dad. Her skin is warm and flushed from sleep, much like Calum’s — the similarity between your husband and daughter when they’ve both woken up makes your heart melt.

“Hi, honey,” Calum greets her, reaching out for her from his spot on the sofa as he wakes up a little more. She yawns and her lips curl into a small smile as you set her down in his lap, a hand coming to hold either side of her as he gets her. You sit down next to them, unable to stop yourself from smiling at their matching puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. “How was your nap, hey? Are those naughty teeth still hurting you?”

He gets an answer through her gestures — as he speaks, she presses her lips to his shoulder, like she was trying to find some relief for her angry gums. “Oh, my poor girl. Shall we get you something that’ll help, hey? I think some yoghurt might work better than my shoulder, little one.”

Calum stands up from the sofa with a dramatic groan as he lifts her, kissing her forehead as she whines in his arms, rubbing at her heavy eyes with little fists. He opens the fridge as he hums under his breath, picking out her favourite apricot yoghurt and a spoon in the hopes of soothing her mouth.

“Why don’t we go for a walk to the park in a bit?” You ask, watching as Calum sets Mara down in her high chair. He pulls up a chair in front of her so he can feed her - knowing he’s about to get as messy as she usually does. “It’s a nice day out, and we can walk Duke at the same time.”

Calum nods, coaxing Mara to open her mouth as he feeds her. “That’s a good idea. Although I think we’re gonna need a bath after this.”

“We?”

“Do you see how much yoghurt is on her hands?” He laughs, leaning forward to kiss Mara’s forehead. In the process, she reaches out for him, the sticky, dairy snack landing on his own skin. “I think there’s more on her than in her mouth.”

He’s right, she’s messy, but looks significantly less uncomfortable than she did when waking up — so it’s worth it.

***

“Watch her eyes whilst I wash her hair, Cal,”

Calum steps out of the stream of the shower so you can rinse Mara’s hair, after lathering a sweet smelling shampoo through her curls. Breakfast had been a messy affair, and in an effort to save both time and water, you decided to have a family shower together.

He cups his hand over her forehead as you gently rinse the shampoo away, your fingertips smoothing over her scalp as content noises slip from her lips. The smile on her face tells you how happy she is to have your joint attention; loving nothing more than being inbetween the two of you.

“What does she find so funny about showering?” Calum asks, laughing himself as he holds Mara, lips brushing her wet cheeks as she giggles. He grabs the sponge to clean under her chin, making sure all of the yoghurt is gone, the familiar smell of her lavender body wash a comforting one. She tries to reach for the sponge as he does — her eyes fixated on the purple object.

“I don’t know, actually.” You reply, watching her eyes follow you as you move to wash Calum’s hair, too, noticing how much the blonde has grown out and his roots have come through. “We need to swap places again.”

“We should let Mara shower with us everyday if it means you washing my hair,” He suggests, met with a playful eye roll from you. Showering together was something he’d do everyday if he could — it’s one of his favourite intimate moments with you, a wonderful way to start his day. It’s more difficult to find time for it with Mara now though.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like I don’t do it even when your hands are free,” You reply and he laughs, knowing you’re right. Having his hair played with whether you’re washing it or just running your fingers through it is one of his favourite things, especially now it’s longer — a way to instantly make him relax. “You’re just using Mara as an excuse today, isn’t he, honey? He’s using you to make me wash his hair.”

She giggles and gives you a sweet wide mouthed smile, one that you wish you could freeze in time and see forever. One that soon will be accompanied by the teeth that are causing her so much pain.

“She doesn’t mind,” He pouts as he looks at her, lips brushing over her forehead as she smiles. She follows your lead and reaches up to put her own little hands into his hair, tiny fingers grabbing the curls in an attempt to help you. You laugh at her action, with a “are you trying to help mum, sweetheart?”

Calum grimaces but can’t help but laugh as he feels Mara tugging at his hair, knowing she’s trying to help, but isn’t quite as gentle as you are. “I think you need some lessons in hair washing, my love, it feels more like you’re trying to rip my hair out.”

It hurts, but her smile makes him ache in a completely different way.

***

“Is her pushchair in the garage?”

Calum grabs a teething ring from the fridge with his free hand as he nods, Mara occupying the other as she clings to his shoulder. It’s been a few hours since her morning nap and he knows she’s getting tired again; evident through her rubbing her eyes and her little whines. He knows she’ll fall asleep on the way to the park.

“Yeah, it’s near the back, behind the car.” He replies, kissing Mara’s forehead as she leans against his chest. She yawns and he rocks her in his arms, resting his cheek ontop of her head and holds her close. “Are you tired, little moon? That shower has made you sleepy, hey?”

His voice is a soft murmur as he talks to her; the tone one that is reserved for when he speaks to her. He’s so gentle and loving whenever he speaks to her and it makes your heart melt.

“Here we go,” You open the door and push her pram into the entrance to the house, unbuckling the straps so Calum can put her in. “Do you think she’s wrapped up enough? I don’t know if it’s as warm as it looks.”

Calum lifts her in his arms and pats her back, rocking her on the spot as he judges the weather. She’s comfy in a little t-shirt, hoodie and leggings, complete with baby old skool vans that Calum got her, to match his.

“How about a hat, too? Should we get you a beanie to match dad, baby?” He asks, knowing it’ll keep her ears warm if it gets a little chilly. You smile and head to her bedroom to get one of her little hats; her collecting growing with every one that Calum buys. “Come on, sweetheart, lets get you all cosy.”

He moves her away from his body to put her down and she cries, little hands trying to hold onto the neck of his own hoodie. Calum knows she’s being fussy because she’s getting tired and her mouth hurts, yet it makes him sad all the same. “You’re okay, honey, shh.”

Calum manages to set her down in the chair without too much of a fuss; making sure she’s sat down properly, and has her little elephant in reach as well as her pacifier. He leans down in front of her and kisses her nose, making a little ‘mwah’ noise as he does to try and soothe her and make her laugh. It doesn’t though — she still tries to hold onto him so he’ll pick her up again.

“What’s with the tears, angel? What’s the matter?” He soothes, staying close to her and gently wiping her tears away with his thumb. She sniffles and his heart aches at the sight. “You can go to sleep when we get walking, okay? You’re alright, my love.”

It’s moments like these where he’s happy that her pushchair is back facing, so she can see the two of you whilst you walk. You join them near the door, Mara’s beanie in your hands, a pout forming on your lips when you spot Mara in her pushchair.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” You ask, smoothing your fingers down her cheeks to soothe her. You tuck the hat over her head, making sure it covers her little ears to keep her warm. Calum hands you her soft blanket, and you tuck it around her knees so she’s snug — almost certain she’ll fall asleep as soon as you set off. “Your poor mouth is making you so sad, isn’t it? We don’t like having a sad girl.”

Calum grabs Duke’s lead and attaches it to his collar, handing it to you before he takes the handle of Mara’s pushchair. “Let’s go, my loves.”

You lock the door behind you before setting off; one hand holding Duke’s lead, and Calum takes the other — his calloused fingers slip between your own, warm and comforting. It’s such a small gesture yet it reminds you of the love between you both. Calum’s other hand pushes Mara’s pushchair at a steady pace. It’s a lovely spring afternoon — blue skies and birds singing in the trees, with just a slight breeze.

“It’s so nice to be out in the sun,” You comment, and Calum nods in agreement. His eyes land on Mara and he notices her squinting at the sun; stopping for a moment before he pulls the hood of her pushchair a little further up to shade her. “Is that better, honey? Can you see now?”

“It feels like we haven’t done this for a while.” Calum says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the palm of your hand as you walk. He can’t help but feel a small amount of guilt nagging at his mind, knowing he’s spent a lot of time working recently. He’s always home for bedtime, but he’s always tired too — he knows you need to spend more quality time together. “It’s nice.”

“It is,” You reply, squeezing his hand in return. “When are you in the studio next week?”

Calum doesn’t answer for a moment as he thinks about the timing of you asking — like you also know that him being in the studio has meant less time together.

“I’m not going to go in,” He replies, and he knows it’s the right thing to do. “I miss you. I want to spend time with you and Mara this week, they can manage without me.”

It’s a small relief to hear the words. You never want to force Calum away from the studio, but he’s always in a different mindset when he writes. It’ll do him good to be away for a week — so you can spend more time wrapped in each other and with Mara.

You nod before speaking. “I’m so proud of you though, Cal. The songs are sounding great so far.”

A smile rises on his lips at the words, and he raises your joint hands to your lips so he can brush his lips against your knuckles.

“Thank you, honey. I know it’s a lot when we first start writing. I don’t mean to be distant, it’s just hard to get out of my head when I’ve been writing.” Calum explains, yet you don’t need him to; it’s a cycle you’ve witnessed several times throughout your relationship. You nod as he speaks.

“I know, Cal. It’s okay though.” You reassure him, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walk. “It’s all part of who you are, and I love you for you.”

Nothing else needs to be said.

It’s then that the two of you realise the gentle movement of the wheels of the pushchair against the pavement has sent Mara to sleep, and she’s tucked up under her blanket, fast asleep. Her cheeks are rosy red from the warmth and her sore gums, her little hands tucked up against her face. Calum smiles at the sight, reaching into the pram to push her curls away from her face.

“She’s so sweet.” He murmurs, his heart melting when she leans into his touch, even in her sleep.

“She’s all you,” You reply, watching as she wiggles in her sleep. From her wild curls to her full cheeks and pouty lips, every inch of her reminds you of Calum. He disagrees, though.

He shakes his head.

“No… she doesn’t get her temper and grumpy faces from me.”

Your mouth opens in shock and you playfully hit his arm as he laughs. “Hey! You know for a fact that her grumpy morning face is all from you, don’t try and put that on me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He replies, leaning to kiss you in a silent playful apology. “Whatever you say, my love.”

***

“Should we sit down here for a bit?”

Calum nods and puts the break on Mara’s pushchair, where she’s still sleeping soundly, in between the two of you as you sit down.

“She’s been asleep for a while, there’s no way she’s sleeping tonight.” Calum tells you, and you fear he might be right, even though she needs the sleep with her teeth coming in. “Do you think we should wake her up?”

You gently push her curls away from her face as she snoozes, your heart melting at her pouty lips all smushed up as she sleeps. You realise it has been over an hour since she went to sleep, and that she’ll feel even worse later on if she can’t sleep.

“Yeah, as much as I don’t want to,” You pout, feeling how warm her skin is under your touch. “It’ll do her good to have some fresh air and wake up a bit.”

Calum gently moves the blanket from her lap and pats her tummy, slowly trying to rouse her. Ever since she was born, Mara had been a heavy sleeper - never one to be easily woken up. Maybe she did get that from you. There’d be times where Calum would take her outside with him in the morning to watch the sun rise and she’d happily sleep in his arms, undisturbed by any movement.

“Mara…” Calum murmurs, undoing the buckles so he’d be able to pick her up once she wakes up. He didn’t want to startle her, and knows she’ll just go back to sleep if he rocks her. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

He notices Mara twitch and start sucking on her pacifier — a sign that she’s a little more awake than she was. He brushes his thumb over her cheek and she whines, screwing her eyes up when she realises that she’s outside. She stretches, reaching her arms out for a moment and closing her eyes once more when she relaxes.

“I love watching her wake up.” You comment, chuckling as she very slowly comes round. Calum decides she’s awake enough to move her — carefully slipping his hands underneath her and pulling her up to his chest. “Hi, baby.”

Calum groans dramatically as he gets her settled in his lap and a few cries slip from Mara’s lips at the disturbance; fists lifting to rub her eyes as she wakes up. She sniffles and sucks harder on her pacifier, burying her face against Calum’s chest as he holds her.

“Good afternoon, my love,” Calum murmurs, rubbing her back with his fingertips as he cradles her. “Are you back with us, hey? You’ve been asleep for a long time, honey.”

You know she has no idea what he’s saying, but she loves hearing his voice all the same. He gives her a moment to wake up, brushing his fingers through her hair and cuddling her against him.

“Look how red her cheeks are,” You mention, pouting at the sight — rosy red from how sore her gums are. “Our poor baby.”

He lifts her up so she’s basically standing on his legs, her face in front of his - her hands lifting to cover her eyes from the light. There’s a few families around, children playing and birds singing — a lot of different sights and noises for her to take in. It’s a peaceful day — a feeling of contentment overcoming both you and Calum.

“Hi, little moon,” Calum kisses her pouty lips and gets her settled in his arms, a hand underneath her to keep her sat up. She yawns and her eyes land on you, a smile on her lips as she realises you’re there. “Oh, there’s a smile! We haven’t seen one of those for a little while. Should we get you home soon and have some dinner? How does that sound?”

Calum decides to carry her on the way home for a little while, and your heart melts at the sight — the way he points out different trees and her curious eyes take in the new sights. There’s no one else you want to discover more of the world with.

***

When Calum said Mara wouldn’t sleep that night… he was right. After an hour of rocking her in her room to no avail, you decide to let her join your movie night; there was no point in stressing yourself and Mara out if she didn’t feel like sleeping.

“She gets her stubbornness from you too,” Calum announces, kissing Mara’s temple as he sits down on the sofa next to you with her in his arms. Duke is curled up on one side of you, a blanket thrown over your knees as you waited for Calum to bring Mara down to join you both. “She is not sleeping anytime soon.”

Her big brown eyes look at you from her spot on Calum’s lap — evident that no sleep is about to take place. You laugh at Calum’s words and roll your eyes, shaking your head as Mara reaches out for you.

“Yeah, come here, sweetheart,” You take her and settle her in your lap, brushing your fingers through her hair. “Dad is so mean, isn’t he?”

Calum joins you under your blanket and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you both close to him. His cheek rests against your head as he looks at Mara, seeing so much of both you and him in her. He finds the discarded teething ring and hands it to her, hoping it’ll settle her down if it soothes her a little.

“Hey, don’t tell her that,” He replies, his free hand stroking her cheek as she yawns. “You’re meant to be on my side, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, we’re ganging up on you on this occasion, babe.” You shrug your shoulders, rubbing your hand down Mara’s back as she settles in his lap.

Mara finally falls asleep a little later that night curled up in Calum’s arms on the sofa — a warm bottle of milk managing to help her drift off. At the same time, you’re fast asleep with your head in Calum’s lap, and he decides that Sunday’s are his favourite day.

And that with his little family... every day feels like Sunday.

***

Ask-box — feedback is always so appreciated!

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[superbadassnatural]

A Lot to Make up For

Summary: Dean threw a fit when he saw something he didn’t like. To say you were angry with him was an understatement. The least thing he could do was make-up for his behavior. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 4,647 Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, little bit of spanking, jealous!Dean, mentions of fwb relationship, a bit of crack? A/N: this was written for “SPN Bi-Weekly Challenge” hosted by the amazing @supernatural-jackles. There are three prompts in this one and they are all bolded. I’m trying to understand why tumblr flagged this post when I uploaded the gif I made, which is similar to this one, but not flagged it when I used someone else’s. Either way, at least one of them worked. Please, enjoy it!

(x)

When you decided to come to the bar, you didn’t expect it to be this crowded. Loud conversations competed with the sound of the electronic music. Somehow you managed to find an empty barstool and ran for it. You ordered a beer, sipping at it, unsure of what you were really doing here.

You needed a night out. It had been a while since you last went out by yourself. You usually hung out with the boys, but this time you didn’t want to. It’s not like you didn’t want to be around them, you just wanted to enjoy some quality time alone.

A man sat beside you. He seemed to be around your age and he was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The man turned to you, introduced himself, and started a small talk that turned into an interesting — and mostly funny — conversation.

Andrew was good to be around. He was a stranger, but he somehow knew how to make you laugh. He even bought you a couple of beers and fries.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of the bar and have your way with him between the sheets. Or maybe it was the way he was flirting with you that was making those thoughts run through your mind. You didn’t even notice he was that close to you. Your knees brushed each other under the wooden counter. His knuckles ran down your forearm. Every now and then his brown eyes would descend to your lips as you spoke. He wanted it as much as you did.

“You know, I was thinking...” he scooted closer, eyes leaving yours to dart to your painted lips. “Maybe we should-“

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice interrupted him.

Dean. He stepped towards you, a smile playing on his lips. Both you and Andrew frowned.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart,” his hand made its way to your waist as he planted a kiss to the side of your head.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his hold.

“I was worried sick, baby,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew stepped in just as confused as you. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dean, her boyfriend,” he beamed, holding out his hand, but Andrew didn’t take it. “Listen, thanks, man, for taking care of her. I’m glad you were keeping her company. Who knows what would happen if you weren’t here. Maybe some bastard would’ve tried to take advantage of her.”

“Her boyfriend?” The man was trying to wrap his mind around what Dean was saying.

“No!” You jumped it.

“Yeah,” he said at the same time as you did. “I don’t know why she’s saying I’m not.”

“Sorry, man,” he looked at you as if you were some lying bitch. “She told me she was single.”

“I am single! He’s my friend.”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s told you, but she suffers from short-term memory loss,” Dean pursed his lips.

What the hell is he talking about, you thought to yourself.

“You know, like Dory from Finding Nemo,” he added. “She probably forgot we were dating. She’s probably going to forget about you too so I suggest you go away. If she forgets you and sees you, she won’t understand a thing. It’ll only make her poor mind even more confused.”

“It must be hard to deal with that,” Andrew sighed, buying Dean’s crap. “Well, I’ll leave you guys be. Sorry about that, man.”

Andrew headed out of the bar. You were too dumbfounded by the whole situation to go after him and explain that your best friend was delusional. He probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. Dean burst into laughter.

“Are you out of your mind?” You nearly roared at him, slapping his hands off of you.

“Oh, you gotta admit that was funny,” he gushed between laughter.

“No, Dean, it wasn’t,” you glared at him. “It was ridiculous and extremely disrespectful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

You stormed out of the bar with Dean hot on your tail. Your blood was boiling. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just let you get some tonight? You stopped in front of your car and turned to him.

“Get lost, Winchester. I don’t want you near me tonight.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’m your best friend. I’m your favorite person in this whole world,” he bargained.

“Best friend?” You chuckled humorlessly. “Since when best friends do stuff like that? Seriously, Dean, that was low even for you. I don’t wanna see you tonight or tomorrow or for the rest of the week! Not even if you’re covered in gold.”

“Not even if I’m naked and covered in gold with your favorite chocolate?”

“No. Actually, the thought of you naked just made me throw up in my mouth a little.”

“Well, that wasn’t what you said a few days ago,” he had the cockiest grin playing on his lips. Maybe he thought he could charm his way and you would forgive him.

“Fuck you,” you sneered. “If you do so much as follow me, I’m gonna murder you!”

Hopping in your car, you turned the engine and headed home. Your hands gripped tight the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t for the life of you understand what had gotten into him. He’d never acted like that. He didn’t have the right to.

In about ten minutes you arrived at the condominium you live in. Parking in your spot, you let out a frustrated sigh before climbing off the car. You were glad he didn’t follow you. At least he had a little respect for you.

As you stepped foot into your apartment you rushed to the bathroom. A shower would do wonders for your tense muscles. Maybe it would even wash your anger away. You turned on the water and checked the temperature before hopping in. You relaxed immediately as the warm water hit your skin.

Although you felt more relaxed after showering, your mind was still on a thousand miles per hour. Dean had never behaved the way he did tonight. Throughout your eleven years of friendship, he had never disrespected you or crossed any boundaries. But tonight he did. Maybe he was angry because you decided to hit a bar and didn’t invite him. It doesn’t justify his behavior.

You’d be lying if you said you were just friends. Over a year ago, after many drinks you and Dean had sex. It was nice, but you barely remembered anything the following morning. So you did it sober. It might have been a dumb idea, but boy it felt good. Dean suggested you should keep doing that and you agreed. No strings attached. No exclusivity. Just two friends blowing off some steam every now and then.

What you have with Dean doesn’t give him the right to act the way he did. He’s not your boyfriend. Both of you agreed that it was okay to see other people and even have sex with them — always with protection. Aside from Dean, you only had sex with one person since you started to fool around. Now, when you finally got the chance to hang out with some guy, he decided to show up and throw a fit? Who does he think he is?

“Ah, screw him,” you mumbled.

Shifting into your ideal sleeping position, your body relaxed on the mattress. Thank God for memory foam. It didn’t take long for tiredness to take over and for you to drift off to sleep.

The unceasing sound of the doorbell ringing startled you. You stood to your feet abruptly, but soon regretted when you felt dizzy. Putting on your robe, you headed to the front door not even bothering to look through the peephole. It seemed to be some kind of emergency. No one would be ringing the doorbell this late if it wasn’t urgent. Unlocking the door, you opened it.

“Hey. How can I-“ you stopped once you met his green eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry-“

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you hissed, trying to push the door close but his feet stopped you.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t care. It’s fucking three in the morning. I have to get up early to go to work,” your hand gripped tight to the knob, ready to close the door in his face if he tried to come in. “I’m sorry, but not everyone works for their dad and can show up late everyday.”

“We both know tomorrow is your day off,” he said. “Please let me in. I need to talk to you. Then you can kick me out and go back to your beauty sleep.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, stepping aside for him to come in. “But only because I’m mad at you and I’m in the mood for a fight.”

“Can we fight so we can have angry make-up sex later?” A smirk appeared on his plump lips.

“Sex with you?” You snickered. “Never again.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “It’s been two weeks since we had some fun.”

“Did you come here so you could get laid? Did ou wake me up just so you could have sex with me? Really, Dean?”

“No, of course not. If I wanted to have sex with you, I would have texted you first,” he said. “I came here to apologize.”

“Oh, so you know you screwed up. Good.”

“Would you let me finish?” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms over your chest. “I came here to surprise you. I thought we could have a sleepover since you don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I even brought my Die Hard collection so we could watch it tonight. I bought two slices of pie on the way. Cherry for me and apple for you. Imagine my surprise when I open the door and there’s not a single light on.”

“So what? Are you telling me that it’s my fault now? I should have stayed home waiting for you?” You pointed your finger at him. “Is that the reason why you did what you did at the bar?”

“I looked for you everywhere. Then Jess told me you went out for a drink at Hardy’s. So I went after you. When I saw that guy with his hands all over you, I flipped. I knew I couldn’t punch him and start a fight so I did that.”

“You know you’re not my boyfriend, right? Or my father for that matter?” You stepped closer to him. “So why did you have to ruin things for me tonight? I’ve never done anything like that to you. Never! Why did you have to be such an idiot?”

“I was jealous, okay?” He growled.

“It still doesn’t give you the right to do that, Dean,” you yelled at him. “You know, Dean, every time you, Sam, and I go to a bar, you leave us on the table to hit on the bartender. I wouldn’t have a problem with that if your brother was single. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jess, but if Sam was single then he’d hit on someone and I’d be free to do that too. Or even better, I could make out with him!” You exclaimed, knowing it would piss him off. “Oh, Jess told me some things that you probably don’t wanna know, but they were really interesting. In case you don’t know, girls talk about sex too. From what she’s told me, I bet he’s better than you. I mean, he’s definitely bigger so-“

“Shut up!” He yelled. You could see his jaw tightening as the veins in his neck throbbed.

“You know what’s even worse? When Jess comes with us, I’m third-wheeling most of the time. For some reason, they won’t let me get two feet away from them.”

“I hit on the bartenders to make you jealous. It’s all fake,” he nearly barked. “I thought that maybe if I did that I’d get a reaction from you because I’m too much of a coward to do the right thing.”

“You do remember our agreement, right? Just sex. No feelings. We are non-exclusive. We can see other people and even have sex. We made a bunch of rules back in that day. One of them was no cockblocking,” your blood was boiling in your veins. You could feel your anger grow with every word you said.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I couldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch getting all handsy.”

“While you were having fun with bartenders and girls you met every time we went out, I was alone. Since we started this, I’ve only had sex with one person and it was-“

“Terrible. I know you said the guy was awful.”

“It’s not that I think I should be having sex with half of the men in town, but if you can have sex with everyone you want then why can’t I? Every time I try to hang out with someone, I get sabotaged.”

“Ever since we started this, I’ve only had sex with you. I tried to be with someone else but it didn’t work because she wasn’t you.”

“Oh my God, it was you!” Reality downed to you as you ignored him. The sound of your raged heart much louder than his voice. “You sabotaged me every time! The broken lock, flat tires, and all that crap that happened every time I got close to a guy. They were all you.”

“Yeah, it was me,” Dean barked. “You deserve better than those guys.”

“Who gave you the right to do that, you idiot? Why did you have to do that?”

“Because I love you dammit!” His voice was much louder, causing you to flinch.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem!” You yelled back at him.

You spun around completely done with him, your head was pounding in your skull. The last thing you saw before storming out of the apartment was his jaw wiring shut as his eyes filled with rage.

The door slammed with a loud thud, startling Dean. He was pulled out of his angry trance when he noticed he was standing alone in the middle of your apartment. He knew he had screwed up big time. He’d not planned on confessing his feelings to you tonight. Especially not like this.

You stood dumbstruck in the hall just outside your door. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were peacefully asleep, the other you and Dean were almost jumping at each other’s throats. He shouldn’t have said he loves you. And you shouldn’t have stormed out the way you did.

“God, what have I done?” you sighed.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the corridor. You didn’t want to turn around. You couldn’t face him.

“You realize you just stormed out of your apartment, right?” He let out a small chuckle to try to light up the mood.

“You see what you do to me?” You turned around to face him. His green eyes held anything but anger. “You make me so mad that I do stupid things like storming out of my own home when I should’ve kicked you out.”

“Hey, you don’t need me to do stupid things. You can do that on your own,” he held his hands up, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. “Now let’s get inside, shall we?”

You only nodded, following him back inside.

“So what do we do now, huh?” He asked, shutting the door.

“You don’t love me. I mean- you do, but as your best friend.”

“No, Y/N, I love you as more than my best friend.”

“Stop,” you argued. “You can’t, okay? Or you’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Ruin what? We both know this is not a friends with benefits shit. It never was.”

“Dean-“

“This is not one-sided and you know it, Y/N,” he said, voice deeper than usual. “What we did… what we do is not just sex. Or do I have to tell you how many times we actually made love?”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice wavered.

“Because I love you, Y/N.”

“Then don’t. You’re screwing things up.”

“Why can’t you just admit it? Why is it so hard for you to finally say it?”

“I can’t risk losing you,” you said low enough that he almost didn’t hear you. Almost. “The moment we take that step there’s no going back and I can’t risk losing you. I can’t.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he placed his hands on both sides of your hips, his body incredibly close to yours.

“You can’t promise me that.”

“You’re right. I can’t, but I’ll do anything to be with you.”

Fingers curling in the collar of his flannel, you pulled him to you, capturing his lips with yours. Your heart skipped a beat as he returned the kiss. It was slow at first, almost uncertain. The soft press of his lips made you melt into his touch. Your tongue caressed his plump lips in a plea for him to allow you to delve into his mouth. A muffled moan escaped his lips as his hands came up to cup your face, thumb circling your cheek.

You pulled away in need of air. Your eyes were still closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know about you but I’m still down for some angry make-up sex,” he said between panted breaths.

“Dean-“

“Stop denying what you want, Y/N.”

Swallowing thick, you opened your eyes only to meet his green orbs hooded with lust. With arms around his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips colliding with his. Warm hands held you by the back of your thighs as he walked towards your bedroom. He pushed you against the wall, placing you back on the floor. His lips graced the skin of your neck with sweet yet hungry kisses. Your body was pressed flush to him. You could feel his heart beating fast against your chest and his growing bulge against your pelvis. A moan left your lips as one of his hands hiked up your leg and squeezed your thigh over the silky robe. Dean pressed himself to you and you bucked your hips, the feeling of his erection against your soaked pussy setting your body on fire.

Hurried hands fumbled with the knot tying your robe. He pushed it off your shoulders, revealing your naked before him, the soft material pooling around your feet.

“Fuck,” he said in a low grunt as his eyes wandered over your bare chest.

A smile spread on your lips. Always the same reaction from him. You unbuttoned his flannel, dropping it to the floor. As Dean yanked his white shirt over his head, your hands reached for his naked torso, traveling down to his abdomen and stopping over his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He pulled down his pants, standing in front of you only in his boxers. You pushed him towards the bed, straddling his hips as he sat. Hungry lips captured his plump, pink ones, his hands snaked to your back. The soft touch of his fingertips sending shivers down your spine.

“Need you,” a breathy moan escaped your lips.

Dean’s back met the softness of the mattress, green eyes sparkling at the sight of you on top of him. You leaned and his hands reached for your breasts. Fingers nipped at your hardened bud as his mouth enveloped the other. His name escaped your lips in a tiny whimper as you rolled your hips against him. He released your nipple with a pop and planted kisses everywhere he could touch.

You pushed down his boxers, revealing his hard cock in all its glory. Your small hand wrapped around his length, stroking it before circling the head with your thumb.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Want you. I need to taste you. Come up here.”

You crawled up, knees around his broad shoulders. As your hands met the headboard, he lowered your body to his face. Dean wanted to take his time. He peppered open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. He ran his nose over your folds and you let out a frustrated moan.

“Stop teasing.”

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” although you didn’t see it, you felt his lips curl into a smirk.

“I need to cum.”

Three teasing licks from your slit to clit caused your breath to hitch on your throat. He wanted to drive you insane and he definitely knew how to do it. Dean licked and sucked your most sensitive parts. Parts he knew by heart. His tongue entered your channel and you saw stars. Fingers finding their course to his hair, gripping it to the point of pain. A guttural grunt from him made your whole body shudder. You tried to buck your hips against his sinful mouth, but his strong grip on your hips restrained your movements. He kept pushing his tongue as far as he could, tasting your sweetness as he feasted. Muffled moans and husky hums escaped his lips, reverberating through your soaked folds. He enjoyed this as much as you did.

“Hmm, yes,” you moaned.

When you felt his grasp on you loosen, you rolled your hips. All your self-consciousness fading as the need to come grew stronger. Your hands dropped to the mattress, ass angling up. His tongue started to circulate your clit, sending small shivers through your body. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on his hand stroking his cock slowly. Your cunt clenched around nothing. His teeth grazed over your bundle of nerves, nipping slightly. The burning coil in your abdomen tightened. Dean sealed his lips around your clit and you went off as a rocket. Your legs trembled around his head as he kept sucking. Waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Fuck, Dean,” you yelled out his name along with a bunch of obscenities.

Dean moaned as he lapped at your juices. He licked you clean until you rode out your orgasm. He kissed your sensitive clit before helping you scooting down so you could meet his face.

“Hi,” you smiled as you laid on top of him.

“Hey,” his plump lips were shining with your release, his cheeks a bright pink.

You leaned to capture his lips. A moan was muffled by his mouth as you tasted yourself in his tongue. The kiss didn’t last though. Both of you were in some serious need of air to make it last.

“I bet the neighbors know my name,” he beamed with the cockiest smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” with a roll of eyes, you started to plant open-mouthed kisses down his throat.

“You know they do. Especially after tonight. The way you-“ he stopped as you sucked at a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. “Shit, Y/N. Need to be inside you.”

He flipped you onto your back, laying on top of you. His lips attacked yours in a hungry, bruising kiss. Your hand reached for his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

“No, not like this. I have other things in mind,” he said with a crooked grin. “On all fours, sweetheart.”

Dean pulled away and you did as told. Your ass perked up and his warm hands gripped your hips. He squeezed your skin and you groaned in anticipation. The tip of his cock circled your entrance.

“Please,” a sweet little cry escaped your lips.

You whimpered as he pushed inside you ever so slow. His massive size stretching your walls to fit him. Dean groaned. He slid out almost completely before thrusting into you with such force that you gasped.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted. “You feel so good. So tight.”

His blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. Sweat broke through your body as your breath started to come in short spurts. His hand collided with your right cheek, causing your body to jerk. Then he did the same to the other one and you hissed. Dean leaned against you, kissing your shoulder blade.

“You like this, don’t you?” His voice barely upon a whisper, hot breath fanning at your clammy skin. “You like it when I take you just… like… this?” His thrusts matched his words, sending you over the edge once again.

“Yes!”

His hand smacked harder at your right cheek as he pulled away. That definitely was going to leave a mark. Your skin tingling at the stingy sensation. He slammed in and out of you like a madman. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room along with shameless cries and husky grunts. The heat in your core started to grow even more. You fell forward into the mattress, fingers curling the sheets. Your walls pulsated around him as your orgasm hit you abruptly. Dean sent another five deep-seated thrusts and had you screaming into the pillow in pure ecstasy.

You were so lost in the feeling that you didn’t notice Dean flipping you into your back. He leaned down nuzzling into your neck, before sliding back into you. He kept driving in and out of you, his breath erratic. Your hands slapped against his back, nails digging into his skin, heels digging into his ass. You needed as much of him as you could get.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he nearly pleaded as he pulled away from your neck.

His hips pistoned against yours, sloppy thrusts aiming for the final push. The thumps of the headboard  banging against the wall mixed with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. Dean delivered three deep thrusts before his body stiffened. He held himself there as he painted your walls white with his seed. Your orgasm rippled through you. You clenched around him so tight, milking his cock for all its worth. His green orbs locked in your lust blown eyes as his lips parted in a perfect “o” shape, mirroring your expression, though no sound came from any of you. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as pleasure washed through you.

Dean collapsed on top of you, his head nuzzling in the curve of your neck. He placed a kiss to your skin before rolling to his side. Both of you waited for your breaths to even. Only then, when the room had grown quiet, you noticed the orange glow in the room caused by the strays of sunshine that managed to get past the blinds.

“Hot damn,” he let out a content sigh.

“What we did tonight… it should be illegal,” you half-chuckled.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he had a stupid grin on his face the whole time.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you pouted. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Really? C’mon! I thought I had made myself up to you by making you come three times. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Of course not! You cockblocked me. Who knows how many times I would’ve cum if I was with that guy,” you shrugged.

“None. Plus, he doesn’t love you so it wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as this was.”

“You still need to make yourself up to me. ’Sides, you didn’t even tie the record, Dean. I’ve made myself come more times using just my fingers and a couple of toys.”

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

“Only if you wanted it to be,” you smirked.

Dean rolled over you, his hand making its way to cup your mound. “I bet you still have my cum dripping from this tight pussy.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Please, consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Dean Sweethearts:

@maya-craziness @akshi8278 @spookytaylors​ @thisismysecrethappyplace @witch-of-letters

[a-la-la-llama]

The One Where Marinette Gets Attacked #4

Part 1       Part 2      Part 3     Part 5

  Cloud nine was where Marinette was currently residing after leaving the flower shop. The owner, Pamela, with the most vibrant red hair she had ever seen had wanted Marinette to work with her. Even though she now had a million problems on her hands with the school situation, she couldn’t fight the smile on her face. Maybe this wasn’t the most professional way to get a job but she went along with how Pamela was acting so it couldn’t be that bad. Tikki seemed to be on the same page as her because she could feel a hum of excitement on her thigh.

  “How about we eat out for lunch instead of going home? I haven’t actually been out in the city since we have gotten here?”, she said out loud. Even though surrounded by people, no one gave a second glance at her antics. Having only traveled the city by rooftops and eating take-out made Marinette foreign still, even having stayed there for more than a year. Turning a corner to a cafe she had passed, Marinette waited in a short line. Walking up to the counter, the worker feigned a fake smile.

  “Welcome to Caffeine Café, what could I get you today?”, the woman asked.

Marinette was given a strange look with the amount of caffeine she ordered but brushed it off. Settling into a corner booth with her tuna sandwich, she patiently waited for her name to be called by looking out the window.

  Usually when she would look out her apartment window Gotham always appeared grey and gloomy. Right now, Marinette felt the warmth of the sun partially covered by a cloud on her skin. It must be Tikki’s doing. Sneaking a glance at the Kwami while grabbing her phone, Marinette was able to see Tikki happily snacking on the cookie she had packed.

“It’s a nice day, how does a trip to the park sound?”, Marinette asked.

Tikki silently nodded in agreement before returning to her meal as did Marinette.

  Gotham had reminded Marinette much like they had depicted New York City in movies. It had a large park that included the famous Poison Ivy Botanical Gardens and that was open to the public like Central Park. Marinette decided going somewhere secluded was the best option due to Tikki wanting to be out. Even though she was tiny did not mean the god didn’t get cramped being in her purse.

“We could climb that hill, Tikki. It has a tree on top that we could sit under too!”, she suggested.

“Brilliant spot, my chosen. We’ll be able to have a great view and you could put the new sketchbook to use!”, Tikki cheered.

  Marinette really should have been on guard out in the open all alone but something about the peacefulness of nature put her off guard. Any other time and she would have seen the attacker from behind coming. Any other time Marinette would have been able to swiftly dodge and apprehend them. Any other time but not this time. This time something tackled her to the ground just eight feet away from the top of the hill. Now, just because she was blindsided didn’t mean Marinette couldn’t swiftly recover. Tucking into a roll, she was able to end the fall squatted low on her feet instead of face planting on the floor. She was facing where her attacker should have been standing fully ready for a fight.

There was no one there.

Well, no one until she felt something wet brush the left side of her face. Turning towards the source she was met with the sight of a black Great Dane towering over her. She realized it was the one she had seen when working with Catwoman. Eye-contact with the animal was not her best choice because Marinette soon found herself rolling down the hill. Marinette couldn’t tell if it wanted to play or just recognized her since it continued to lick her face when they stopped at the bottom of the hill.

“Hello there, buddy. It’s nice to see you too!”, she said, sitting up gently scratching its head.

“Marinette! Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? Should I get Kaalki? We can-“, Tikki worrily pestered Marinette.

“I’m fine, Tikki. Titus just got a little excited!”, she soothed the god while reading the dog's name tag.

“You need to be more alert, Marinette! It could have been someone really dangerous. Plagg will certainly come with you next time once he hears about this!”, Tikki scolded.

“Calm down, Tikki. No one is even here besides me and this good boy. Aren’t you a good boy!”, Marinette cooed.

“His owner doesn’t seem to be here. What do you plan to do?”, the Kwami questioned.

“The dog is from that house we visited with Catwoman, Tikki. I think that’s why it ran up to me. Or it could be your magic since we do have pigeons circling above us?”, Marinette said.

“Then it would be best if you return him home without coming in contact with his owners.”, suggested Tikki.

“Right! We’ll have to cut this outing short and go get Kaalki. How does that sound Titus?”, Marinette asked the dog.

It let out a bark in agreement. Well to everyone else it sounded like a bark. She would never get used to the whole animals and plants talking to her thing. Standing up Marinette, Titus, and Tikki made their way back to her apartment. Titus even followed her up the stairs. It wouldn’t be surprising the dog was able to maneuver up the small steps with the mansion it lived in. Titus would have to have experience!

  “Miri’s, we’re home!”, Marinette called the Kwami’s by their nickname. Since they lived in the miraculous’ she had decided a name played of the word would be fitting. Creating the nickname ‘Miri’s’. The kwami that had permission out flew up to greet her and her guest. She briefly saw Tikki pull Plagg to the side most likely to tell him about their day.

“Kaalki, you remember Titus right?”, Marinette grinned at the Kwami.

“Yes, it’s that mutt that lunged at me when I came to retrieve you!”, the small horse spat out.

“That is no way to speak about him and you know it. Baark would be disappointed to hear this!”, she scolded.

“Sorry, Mari.”, he quietly apologized.

“It’s okay! Now, I need to return him home ASAP and I need your help.”, she explained.

“Of course, guardian! I’ll be glad for an adventure.”, Kaalki exclaimed.

“Great! Kaalki, full Gallop!”, Marinette called.

  A turquoise portal was opened up in front of her that led to a well taken care of yard. Marinette saw how Titus was wary of it and comforted him with a bright smile.

“Don’t worry Titus, your home is just on the other side. I’ll keep my hand right here while we go through!”, she said resting a hand on the top of his head.

Coaxing the dog through was much easier than dealing with a civilian. She’s had her fair share of people refusing to flee to safety just because it was magic. Seriously people, your heroes or vigilantes can’t save everyone! It’s not like you can’t peek your head through first before crossing, she would never understand Gothamites. Titus seemed to be trusting of her and calming followed her in and stepped out onto the grass.

“See, nothing bad happened. It was nice to see you again Titus but I have to go now! Be safe and try not to run off again. I’m sure your owner would deeply miss you.”, Marinette whispered while giving his head a final scratch. Titus barked a goodbye as she stepped back into her apartment and closed the portal.

  Calling off the transformation, Marinette flopped onto her couch and nestled into the blanket there. She hadn’t been back home for a full minute before she was bombarded.

“What’s this about you getting attacked!”

  Damian would kill whichever one of his brothers left not only the front door but the gate open when they left. He hoped it had been Drake since he despised him the most. Titus had run off when he saw his opportunity for freedom out of the well-known manor grounds. Damian had spent the whole day running around Gotham trying to locate him. The dog even had the gall to disable the GPS location chip on his collar by running into a pool of water. He knew this because of the notification of water damage when he first started his chase. Now Damian was home and in a sour mood.

  “Chill out Demon Spawn! Titus is hella smart and will come back eventually. Just let him roam around and live a little.”, Jason stated.

“You do not know that, Todd. For all we know he could be in a terrible pound or worse.”, Damian retorted.

“Baby Bird, he has a collar with our number. I’m sure when someone finds him they’ll give us a call.”, Dick said trying to reassure the youngest Wayne.

“Wait, we were looking for Titus? Isn’t that him in the yard?”, Tim questioned from his seat by the window.

There the missing dog was in all his glory barking a poor squirrel up a tree.

Tag list

@legallyspawned @chocolate1721 @spartanxhunterx @dreamykitty25 @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @loveswifi @amayakans @jeptwin @thewonderlandartist @buticaaba @books-and-left-behind-journals @gigibnl @aegyobutpsycho2 @crazylittlemunchkin @maribat-is-lifeblood @myazael @abrx2002 @pawsitivelymiraculous @silvergold-swirl @chaos-inperson 

[hoodedwing]

Inhisar

Summary: After an hour of waiting, Dick goes to hunt for Tiger who didn’t make an appearance. Tiger isn’t just fighting a migraine but something else he refuses to meet head-on with.

Characters: Tiger King of Kandahar, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd (mentions), Damian Wayne (mentions), Bruce Wayne - as Batman (mentions)

Warnings: Mentions of a knife but no blood, gore or anything. 

Additional notes: 80% of the fics I see revolving Dick and Tiger are usually Tiger looking after Dick but because I’m a sucker for hurt characters who’ve been through hell and refuse to open his/her/their mouth, I swapped the roles and did something hurt/comf ish. I’m also setting up my ao3 where I’ll transfer my fics there too. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1,801words

-

inhisar - reliance 

***

Dick waited at the rooftops for close to an hour already. He couldn’t shake the buzz from his body as he did a few backflips to shake the feeling off. He was supposed to meet Tiger here close to thirty minutes ago but he hadn’t shown up. It was strange of the usually punctual man who promised some vital information on Dick’s current case. The extremely resourceful man never ceased to amaze Dick although he came off rather cold sometimes. 

No matter, he thinks as he shoots his grapple towards the neighboring skyscraper and swings with ease. Metal after metal building appeared in the backdrop of the neon Wayne Industries signage, a testament to Gotham’s cry of need. Dick snorts at the idea before heading over to Tiger’s small place in Gotham. His usual residence wasn’t here but Dick insisted he take one of his safehouses (to which Tiger begrudgingly agreed to). It was one of the smaller ones Tiger argued about since one man doesn't need too much space, idiot.  

He nimbly sweeps down to the window and sees it’s dimly-lit, almost dark inside. Frowning at the fact that it was ajar, he pushes it and rolls in silently. He flashes out his escrima sticks, lightning blue and making the crackling sound he’s accustomed too and sneaked to the obvious occupant on the couch. He’s about to swing when he realizes-

-its Tiger.

Asleep?

Dick has to hold back laughter. His previous anxiety was ill-seated as he cheekily leans against the armrest of the sofa.

“Excuuuuse meee?”

He starts, in a fake and airy voice that’s loud but not enough to somehow wake Tiger up who just changes his position and curls deeper into the leather couch, pulling himself up in a small ball.

Dick’s eyes are up at him like a wolfhound. He knows that Tiger is indeed a very light sleeper and he should be awake right now and calling him an idiot and realize he’s the bigger idiot for missing their meeting. He lazily curls himself in a painful-looking position and waits on him.

Sensing the pressure change, Tiger suddenly opens one exhausted green eye and looks at a smiling Dick in civilian clothing. Blinking and clearing his sleep-ridden eyelids, he tosses a cushion at Dick who caught it easily.

“Idiot-”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you didn’t make to our meeting so as a friend-”

“We aren’t friends”

“-okay, okay whatever but hey I gotta make sure you didn’t die out there.”

“I’m not incapable, Agent-”

“-I’m in civvies! You can’t just Agent 37 me.”

Dick retorts, smiling widely. Tiger mutters something under his breath before swinging himself up but his vision spins before he falls back on the couch, angrily staring down at the floor. His head is pulsating again wildly. He only hears the roar of gushing blood in his ears.

Dick is still talking in the background, probably a lecture about something Tiger couldn’t care much about right now. He just needed to make sure he’s not about to kneel over and possibly embarrass himself.

“WIll you shut up for a minute?!”

He hisses, head in his hands, pressed tightly as he tries to filter out the remainder of the supposed light present. Dick is immediately silent before he asks, undisguised concern in his voice.

“Are you okay?”

“Sit down,”

Tiger tests his limbs, and slowly gets up before half-stumbling to the small attached kitchen. Dick had worry etched all over his face as he tossed his jacket onto the vacated couch before switching on the television. He knew no matter how much he insisted, Tiger never told him what was wrong.

He chose to keep to himself, quiet and only spoke when needed. Dick was the one who added life, chatter and still kicked ass alongside the man. Don’t get him wrong, Tiger was a brilliant fighter but he was too quiet, more than usual. Dick was usually good at reading people, seeing the truth in their eyes and figuring out what’s wrong before they can.

Dick cannot say the same for Tiger. He remembered when he met him for the first time. Tiger was unreadable, almost neutral and it threw him off balance. The few things he figured out was his upbringing in war-torn Afghanistan, his love for really hot qehwa and Medjool dates as well as his preference for darker colors.  Belatedly, that was it. The rest of it was shut behind cold, emerald eyes almost similar to Damian’s ones. Tiger was a man with calculation, precision and silence, that much Dick knew. 

Speaking of silence, it had been ten minutes since Tiger left the couch for the kitchen. Dick decides to go there anyway, at worst a pan might hit his head. He enters the sparsely furnished kitchen and the first thing he registers is a man leaning against the counter, lost in space as he absentmindedly swung a paring knife and his trigger finger constantly twitching. Tiger hadn’t worn his shemagh so Dick can see the ebony hair and slight curls . 

“Yes?”

Dick is now slightly afraid of the paring knife in Tiger’s hand so he makes sure he’s a safe zone away from him. Still absentmindedly flicking the knife, Tiger looks at Dick questioningly and with deadly ease, throws the knife at a poor apple sitting on the countertop.

“You didn’t answer me back there, Tig..”

“Hm?”

Hands in his pocket, Dick tries to start a conversation but Tiger pinching his nose bridge stops him from opening his mouth. He observes his silent friend lean a little more against the cold exterior of the marble countertop as the water boiled with lazy wisps of steam trailing near the surface. 

Pity washes over Dick who lowers the blinds at the kitchen window and sees some tension from Tiger dissipating. 

The water is whistling, bubbles frantically escaping and Dick steps forward to switch it off. Tiger looks up and Dick can see him clearly. Exhaustion, frustration and irritation all rolled up in one impressive eyebrow raise.

“Go back, I’ll finish this. I’m sure you trust me enough to fuck this up.”

He doesn’t bother with a jibe, just heads back to the couch and loses all track of time. Face buried in the leathery couch, everything was tilted off its axis. He vaguely registers throwing a warm jacket left there off the couch before sinking into the cold surface.  

A strong smell of qehwa enters the room as Dick balances both cups at a ridiculous angle. Setting them down, he feels Dick sit beside him on the carpet, cross-legged and rocking back and forth.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Minor inconveniences”

Is all he says as he buries his face deeper into the couch, blocking all light because it was making his head worse and then Dick had to come here and be an annoying prick. He woke up that morning with a dull pressure from his neck and decided to sleep it off since he had no urgent things to do, blessedly. However, he swore he did set an alarm two hours in advance before their meeting-

Oh no.

“I can give it now and you can be headed on your way.”

Dick stops rocking and narrows his eyes at the figure on the couch, wondering what Tiger meant before a slow grin starts appearing on his face.

“You can’t even walk straight to the kitchen so I’m staying. It’s like a sleepover and don't feel bad about missing our small reunion. It’s okay to feel like absolute shit sometimes.”

He helpfully suggests as he passes a cup of the hot beverage to the man whose face is still planted on the couch. Tiger points one finger at the small coffee table and shakes his head, the action making everything worse. He doesn’t understand why his stupid little... headache isn’t leaving him but he doesn’t care anymore. 

Dick had been watching his actions the entire time, evaluated if his chances of dying were high and then gently but softly asked Tiger.

“Migraine? Seems pretty bad. I’ll be back.”

He gets up to hunt for some Imitrex and grabs a cold compress before turning off the lights completely on the way back to the lofty living room where Tiger had already fallen asleep in a very still position. 

He has no heart to wake him up because he knows he gets only so much sleep. Gently tapping his shoulder and shaking out a tablet, he probes him again.

“Sit up, I got you some meds. It should help.”

A small groan comes from the couch and then a reluctant turnover as he faces Dick blankly, eyes squinted and Dick instantly feels terrible for waking him up.

“Tell me about one of your inane adventures.”

Tiger asks quietly from where he’s still laying with Dick hovering over him, pill in hand. Confusion momentarily graces his face before he launches into some story about a mission with Damian.

Dick is animatedly whispering about the entire thing as his unconscious hand reaches out to ruffle Tiger’s thick hair. The heavenly head scratches surprisingly comforted Tiger who leans ever so slightly to the touch. It felt nice to be treated like this for once.

Don't get sentimental.

He faintly ignores that voice and reaches out to his primary need of relief and comfort. Dick had gone on to his second story about Jason and how he loved reading. He joked about how he’d spit lines from plays and shoot with equal jest. There was a wistfulness in his tone and a small part of Tiger hated himself so much for being so soft and vulnerable and letting Dick comfort him but it felt normal and everything else considered. He’s unnerved by this unfamiliar experience and he has to get it to stop before he’s caving in and dependent.

He can’t do that.

It’s incredibly stupid and dangerous in his line of work.

What if one day he’s gone?

What would he do?

“Are you feeling any better?”

Dick asks kindly, softly smiling at Tiger who’s trying to suppress all the new emotions Dick stirred up and it somehow warmed him a little but he doesn’t show it.

“Thank..you?”

He fumbles slightly, awkward and the usual firm line on his face was replaced with one slightly curved at the ends. Dick is grinning wildly.

“Did I make the great King smile?!”

Tiger is trying to hide his face before Dick lets out an ecstatic yell.

“You’re smiling! I didn’t know your facial muscles allowed for that action!”

Another cushion was thrown at Dick who’s caught it again before sticking his tongue out at Tiger.

“Agent 37, still childish as ever.”

Tiger doesn’t mind, he really didn’t mind, even if his qehwa turned cold.

[blu-archer]

Warmth

Hi... So, It’s 00:44. I should be editing photo’s for the day a head but I did this instead. I really shouldn’t have but... it happened... (If there’s grammatical errors... this is why.. forgive me.)

Because procrastination has just kind of merged itself as a part of my very soul and essence as a human being at this point. 

This is just a short thing to be honest, and its technically a ���sick/snz’ thing, but really it felt really short and comes across as more as a comfort, small filler type thing... but it was fun to write sooooo anyway..

enjoy I guess

Caretaker: ???Jimin/Jin?? I don’t really know 

Sickie: Yoongi

word count: 2568.

.

.

“Huh’ishh… snf… Huh’ihishew… huh’igxnsh!”

“You sneeze one more time and I’m sending you home.” Jin said warningly from his seat at the front desk.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, merely sniffling until he could get the chance to blow his nose. He didn’t remember the stores shelves being this dusty, but perhaps Namjoon just hadn’t had time to clean up while Yoongi had been away. He’ll have to do a deep clean once his magic has rested enough to manage it.

“I’m serious Yoon.”

“Jin. You don’t work here.” Yoongi replied dryly, not sparing the elder a glance. “and I own this business. You can’t send me home for sneezing.”

“You own half this business.” Jin corrected, clicking away at the latch on his pen as he stared through the gaps in the shelves at where Yoongi rubbed at his nose before putting up more jarred charms. “and I am married to the owner of the other half, which means I am also the owner of the other half.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It does. You wouldn’t know because you haven’t married Jimin yet. What’s mine is Joon’s and what’s Joon’s is mine.” Jin grinned teasingly.

Yoongi knew that he was mostly joking, just twisting things to get his way, but it was still somewhat relevant in some areas. Namjin was a typical ‘we’ couple the second after Jin had gotten Namjoon to love him more than his plants, which honestly hadn’t been that difficult.  

“Does that mean that Namjoon can go treat kids at the school, like you. You’re the nurse right.. does that mean Namjoon has the same qualifications?” Yoongi asked, his words laced with building congestion.

“Don’t make jokes like that. Joon would never be able to manage working with children, no matter how much he loves them.” Jin shook his head. “Poor baby would be so terrified of hurting them or something, probably wouldn’t be able to put up with half the rascals I have to deal with. Teenagers are the worst, and when it comes to creating excuses to get out of class... don’t get me started.”

 Yoongi joined him by the desk, having finished most of the restocking of the shelves. It was technically supposed to be Jin’s day off from work – which usually meant that Namjoon would call in for the day off as well, but they had had a last minute call pleading for someone to come charm and heal sections of a park that had been set a light a few days prior, and well… Namjoon wasn’t going to decline that. He had even taken Taehyung with him. Hopefully nothing gets set on fire again.

But that meant that Jin had welcomed himself to lurking around the store, “helping” Yoongi with the daily routine and customers. Helping had turned into pestering very quickly.

“This is proof that it’s not true then.” Yoongi shrugged, reaching for a serviette that had come with the lunch Jin had ordered in to blow his nose.

He pointedly chose to ignore the exasperated look that flashed across Seokjin’s face.

“How’s Jimin?” Jin’s tone wasn’t as curious as the question posed. “Still sick?”

Yoongi refused to meet the witches gaze as he cleared his throat and reached for his iced coffee. It was more like watered down coffee now, but he required any form of caffeine that he could get.

“He’s still a little sick, but he’s going back to work tomorrow.” Yoongi pursed his lips as he thought back to when Jimin had told him the day before.

The hybrid had put a real fight when Yoongi had suggested to take another few days to rest. One would have thought he had told Jimin to quit or something. He understood his boyfriends need and passion to do his job, but from what Hoseok had mentioned to him, it was precisely the fact that Jimin worked too hard that got him into the mess he had been in any way. He just wanted to make sure that his boyfriend was taking enough time to recuperate.

“You don’t think that maybe… he shared?”

“What?”

“Yoongi..” Jin sighed. “Your nose is red. You’ve been coughing and sniffling all morning. You also haven’t taken off Jimin’s hoodie – which you usually do before opening because you don’t like mixing potions and other peoples’ scents over his, and don’t even try to tell me that your voice hasn’t been cracking since you entered that door.”

Yoongi looked away, taking another sip of his drink. “Could be allergies. ‘s dusty…”

Jin didn’t even have to say anything. His deadpan expression and tightly drawn lips told Yoongi enough about what the elder thought of that suggestion.

Maybe he was getting sick. After all, he and Jimin hadn’t exactly worked hard to prevent any contagion – especially after Yoongi had convinced the younger to let him be more helpful in all matters of care. It would actually make a lot of sense, but he couldn’t bring himself to want to acknowledge it. Jimin would feel so bad if he knew that he’d gotten the warlock sick, especially if it happened right before he had agreed to return from sick leave.

“I can’t go home. Jimin will feel guilty.”

“That is stupid reasoning.” Jin pulled a disapproving face. He looked at his friend, then shook his head. “I’m being serious Yoongi. You should rest now before it gets worst. We can close the shop for the day, Namjoon can continue tomorrow like he has been and Jimin would feel better knowing that you didn’t try hide this from him. You know that he will see you not telling him as some sort of annoying guilt thing. Don’t make a small thing big. He’ll probably be so happy to do whatever you young couples do now days again.”

Yoongi grimaced but didn’t waste the energy on commenting on Jin’s overly wistful words. Rather he put his mind to the customer that had just warily entered the store. He wasn’t going home. He had made up his mind and nothing Jin could say would change it.

**

“Kit’en?” Yoongi snuffled wetly.

Groaning and clearing his throat as he locked the front door behind him. He was about to call again when a deep, congested sneeze ripped through his throat – much louder and harsher than he liked. He really shouldn’t have stayed the full working day. He should have accepted Namjoon’s offer to have him just continue working the store for today and onwards, but if Yoongi was anything – it was stubborn. Of course he regretted it now though.

He walked into the kitchen and swallowed some of the medicine Jimin had been taking before he went to find the hybrid, who had remained silent. It was a bit odd that he hadn’t replied when Yoongi called, but it wasn’t rare enough for him to be overly concerned. Just curious…

It was when he couldn’t find Jimin in any of the rooms that his worry began to rise.

He called out again as he quickly paced through their cottage, being met by nothing but silence. He even tried to call but following the muffled ringing of Jimin’s phone lead him to their rumpled, vacant bed. In a final moment of panic, he called forth his magic, letting the icy chill of it flood throughout his body until a blast of wind shot off of him with staggering force. Usually he wouldn’t use his magic so raw, much rather preferring to have a physical object to make the effects easier to deal with, a skill that had been adapted centuries before from witches to fit a warlocks needs without the risk of magic drainage, but he didn’t stop for a moment to think. The magic had left him so abruptly that he had to lay a steadying hand on the wall while he breathed icy white breaths for the brief moment until the surged wave returned to him with just as much impact as it had left him with, causing him to break out coughing for air while the room tilted and swayed beneath his feet before returning to its previous temperature and stability.

Jimin was outside… in Yoongi’s studio?

That couldn’t be right. Jimin didn’t really go to the studio unless Yoongi was there. In fact, he was sure Jimin had told him that he didn’t like the studio space at all – something about there being too many scents.

Why would he be there now?

 He took a second to catch his breath before he went on his search. His nose had just started to run, and no amount of sniffling was going to help him. His head pounded against the cold, but he ignored it as best as he could.

None of it mattered.

What mattered was that it was cold. His studio specifically was always cold to a degree, and Jimin was uncharacteristically in there.

 “Love?” Yoongi called as loud as he could as soon as he passed the entrance, his voice cracking over the single word.

“ ‘oongi?”

Yoongi came to an abrupt halt just outside of the tiny, makeshift library that he stored all of his spell books in to see the familiar form of his boyfriend curled up on the oval windowsill with a blanket and pillow tucked around him as the dying sunlight painted his skin.

His hair was a mess and he swiped at his mouth and eyes languidly as a yawn broke widely across his face.

“Hey.” Jimin greeted with a warm lazy smile. “Good day?”

“It could have been better.” Yoongi answered honestly, moving into the small space so that he could wrap his arms around Jimin. The hybrid jumped at the icy feel of his skin. “I thought you didn’t like my studio.”

“It grew on me. Was the only thing that strongly smelt like you for a while, so it became more comfortable for me…Why are you so cold, what happened?”

Yoongi shrugged, his cheeks warming has he realised his actions may have been a bit impatient. There were other spells that he could have used, weaker ones that relied on words and physical additives rather than actual core magic, which would have left him with more energy and just overall less affected. He’d been unnecessarily rash.

He sunk his face into the hybrids chest, somewhat admitting defeat while forcing the younger to be pushed up tightly against the window as he was embraced. He felt fingers run through his hair and an ill-timed cough shook his entire frame. Jimin froze and Yoongi caved with two soft words. “I’m … sick.”

“Oh, baby…”

He felt Jimin card his fingers through his hair again, harder this time, letting his nails scrape lightly against the Warlock’s sculp as he held him close. Yoongi took as deep a breath as he dared. He couldn’t smell the usual spicy aroma that hung around the younger, but he melted into the bundle of warmth that was Jimin, succumbing rather easily to the uncomfortably angled yet intimate embrace.

“I’m so sorry I got you sick… we should have been more careful.”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi said, his voice muffled before he pushed away from Jimin so that he wasn’t bent in an awkward standing/leaning position any longer. “I was more worried about you, but you look better.”

“I feel better, mostly. There are still moments when I feel bad, but it’s a big.. improvement…” Jimin yawned, pulling his blanket up to smother it, then chuckled as Yoongi broke into a mirroring action, sniffling and resting lazily against his bookshelf afterwards.  “We should probably head inside now. Get something in you before we go to bed.”

Jimin gradually got to his feet, stumbling a bit as he stretched before opening his blanket to properly engulf Yoongi in its warmth with him. Jimin could feel a bundle of heaviness, completely unrelated to his cold, settle in his chest as he listened to Yoongi sniffle thickly on their way back into the house – making a quick dash when they had to cross yard with the cooling breeze. The warlock had a lot to catch up on in terms of his work and this was quite obviously going to set him back a bit further.

Not that he seemed to mind.

Jimin seemed to be more stressed than his boyfriend about the matter. To compensate for resulting in getting Yoongi sick he had tried to collect a bunch of blankets and soft materials that he had scattered around the house during the day, working to make a more comfortable setting for Yoongi in their room once he had gotten the warlock to lie down there. He had successfully gathered water and at least three of the fluffiest blankets they owned before Yoongi had him trapped beneath him against the mattress.

The warlock had distracted him from his coddling after sneezing openly to the side with enough force that Jimin had reached out to steady his seated figure with concern, only to be tugged onto the bed and rolled on top of with the accompaniment of all of the blankets he’d piled on the elder moments before. He had wanted to complain, that he needed to make food for them or to get them the medicine, even if Yoongi had mentioned that he’d already taken something – or at the very least more tissues, because they’d definitely be needed those. Yet Yoongi had merely rested his cheek against Jimin’s shoulder, sniffling into the base of the hybrids neck while he wrapped his arms tightly around the dancers frame.

“Yoon… you need food…”

“ ‘need you.” Yoongi whispered lowly, yawning into Jimin’s chest. “I missed you today… just… just stay. Please.”

Jimin snuggled down, embracing the warlock as entirely as he could. Their limbs becoming a mesh between the blankets. If this was the comfort that his boyfriend needed, then who was he to protest?

Even as Yoongi drifted off to sleep, the ice that had filled his veins from earlier thawed with the warmth that bled through him by the mere presence of the Calico cat. The dying sunlight still blared down on them, but neither of them could bring themselves to care. If anything, it helped in making the pair sleepier. Jimin rubbed his nose through Yoongi hair and down over his cheek, pressing soft lips to the elders temple, then his cheek, then nose.

Yoongi squirmed and let out an amused groan, pushing Jimin away before pulling him close once more. He’d never get used to the effect that Jimin had on him. How a simple gesture made him feel as if he could wield all the magic in the world. He’d tried to explain the empowering feeling before, but he had never been able to put it into words.

“I’m sorry.” Jimin whispered, pressing a final kiss to Yoongi’s head. Although his tone had dipped into the same seriousness from before. Then in an even softer voice, he added. “Love you, Yoongi… ”

Yoongi was already half asleep, his body giving in after the events of his day, but the tender words pushed him further. He slipped into a dark content sleep, filled with that familiar warmth and spicy scent that he had grown to depend on.

He’d let out a soft sigh, barely catching Jimin’s final words of ‘rest well’ before he was completely submerged into his dreams.

[venomous--fics]

@ke-roero​ Requested: eddie and venom going out for a stroll but venom is acting up and he senses something and forces eddie to follow the feeling he's having only to find reader, and later on in their relationship he finds out that she's been hosting a symbiote as well

a/n: This one was really fun to write, so I hope you like it!! Also sorry if you hate the symbiote name, I used a random name generator to pick it because I had no ideas! and i may or may not have changed the prompt a little. Hope that's cool! Feedback is always appreciated and requests are always open!

Eddie was walking through the park, tapping his pen on his notepad. He had used some of his vacation time at work so he could clear his head and try to think of real story ideas, rather than just pick something dull and spit something mundane out. 

It wasn't going so well, seeing as the only story he had written down was the one that had burned him out. He stared at the barely legible scribbles on the paper and sighed.

"Maybe we could take about all the stray dogs running around the city?" Eddie asked Venom quietly, as to not bring unwanted attention, "Maybe just ....talk about the homelessness?"

He wasn't getting an answer.

"I'm.. Asking for suggestions." Eddie paused, "And you know I'm desperate because I'm asking you."

Still nothing.

"What? No snarky remark? No name calling?"

Radio silence. 

"Listen, man-"

"Quiet."

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter, Eddie."

"What's gotten into you?"

"Something's here..."

"Descriptive." Eddie chuckled, "Mind enlightening me?"

"I can sense another presence here."

"What kind?"

Venom sighed, "Do I have to spell everything out?"

"I am currently utilizing the one brain cell I have, buddy. I need all the help I can get."

Eddie could feel Venom's sarcastic ass eye roll, "A symbiote."

Almost as if it was routine, which it probably was, Eddie went on high alert. There was another symbiote just out and about?

Venom decided that he wanted to know where this other alien was, and made Eddie walk. Most of the time, Eddie didn't mind, but seeing as Venom didn't even ask.. He minded a little. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the park, you were sat on a bench, tossing out gluten free oyster crackers out to the ducks. You were also feeding M&M's to your symbiote, Vex. He enjoyed the small crunch of the outer coating.

"Look, V, there's that new family I was talking about." you gently pointed towards the pond and watched as a family of ducks swam over. There was the mama duck followed by five babies. They all made happy little noises as they began to eat the crackers. 

Vex seemed very happy at the sight as she said, "How cute."

"Think we could get a duck?"

Without hesitation, Vex replied, "The pet shop on fifth had the cutest chicks."

You giggled at the thought of you, a human, raising a chick with your alien friend. It sounded like some sort of cheap sitcom premise. 

You and Vex had been bonded for a few years now. You remember that day all too well. You were trudging home in the rain, doing your best to keep the groceries you had bought dry. You were passing an alleyway when you had heard a rustling noise.

You knew that only stupid people in horror movies go down the empty alleyway alone, but you thought maybe there was a stray animal that needed help. Unknown to you, there was an alien lifeform that was dying in a mud puddle. It didn't take long for you to help the poor thing. You knew exactly where it had come from. It was all over the news that the life foundation was secretly using some strange 'parasite' to test on people. Of course, most people wouldn't believe that, but somewhere in your heart, you knew it was true. 

"Are you okay?" you asked quietly. 

It didn't have a face, or a voice, or any real identifying features, but you knew it was in pain. You weren't sure what came over you, but you had held your hand out to it, in hope of helping it. You were certain that that wasn't a big deal, to help someone or something in need. Little did you know that the poor, dying symbiote had already accepted your offer and even swore to protect you. And that's the story of how you made a permanent friend. Ever since that day, Vex has been nothing but nice to you. She's also saved your clumsy ass a few times. As time passed, you had expected Vex to be a violent type, just like the rest of the rumored aliens, but to your surprise, she actually told you that she wanted to just live a normal, peaceful life. She didn't like the unnecessary attention. And that brings you here, every afternoon, to the local park. You'd spend your morning running errands, then for an hour or two, sometimes three, you'd watch the animals in the park and bring them snacks sometimes. After that, you would head out to get stuff for dinner. And Vex liked this. 

"Oh, look how fluffy that one is!" You gushed, pointing to the smallest duckling. "They're very precious." Vex agreed, smiling.

You tossed out some more crackers, giggling when all the ducklings swarmed to them and began plucking them out of the water. You had began another conversation, but were quickly cut off but a startling voice. Vex retreated, and you quickly turned your head and looked over your shoulder. All the ducks scattered at the sudden noise, and you were extremely saddened by that.

"Oh god!" The distraught man said, obviously embarrassed, "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to.. I didn't mean to scare you." 

The man's voice didn't match the one you had just heard, but you were certain that maybe you had just imagined it being deeper.You stared at the man in complete shock for a moment, watching him nervously look around. He looked like he was having a panic attack because, one, he wasn't even the jackass who startled you, but two, he couldn't say who did it because he would look like a crazy person.

He took a step forward, voice calmer, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that... Uh, I'm, eh, well, uhm, I'm. Eddie." 

He stuck his hand out, and you noticed how much it was trembling. Again, you did nothing but stare for a moment before you slowly reached out and shook his hand. He had sweaty palms, and you tried not to cringe. 

"Uh, sorry. I- ... Think I'll just go now. I'm sorry, again, for interrupting-"

"It's okay," you said softly.

Eddie stood still for a moment, seeming very confused. He wasn't used to social interactions. 

"You could make it up to me." you added, "Could you help me get the ducks to come back? You.. Scared them." 

"Oh, yeah, right." Eddie let out a breath, stepping over and carefully sitting at the other side of the bench, "So, how do we......Do that... Do we have to just.. go in there and grab 'em?"

You tried to stifle a laugh, but it came out anyways, "You're kidding, right?"

Eddie realized that that was Venom's answer slipping out and not his, "Yeah, I was joking." 

You held out your bag of crackers, "Try these instead."

Eddie, still a tad bit nervous, took some crackers from the bag and stared at them. He's never done anything like this before. Normally him and Venom just took a brisk walk through the park to get some fresh air on the way home. They never payed any mind to the animals, the plants or the people. What was the point in that?

Eddie had watched you toss some crackers out, and a second later, copied you. He wasn't expecting much, and so he felt terrible for scaring the ducks away, which was very odd of him. Why should he care about some stupid ducks? "Look," you said quietly, "They're coming back."

Eddie watched as the ducklings came back, followed by the bigger ducks and they began snacking on the crackers again. Eddie stared at the tiny, innocent little ducks, and not to be dramatic, but he would've died for them.  

"I understand why you like these guys. They're pretty cute."  

"You've never sat and just ... Enjoyed what's around you?"

"Do I look like the type of guy who just does that?"

"You look kinda- No." 

"What were you gonna say?" Eddie smirked, "I can take it." 

"I was going to say homeless." you chuckled.

"I get that a lot." Eddie chuckled with you.

You chuckled some more as you carried a decent conversation with this oddball Eddie. You two wound up talking for an hour or two, before Eddie said he had to get going, something about needing to finish up some stuff. You bid him farewell, and asked if he would come back tomorrow. Without hesitation, he said yes. That was almost two years ago. You liked Eddie a lot, but you were a bit scared. You never told him that you had a symbiote, and of course, you knew he had one, it was obvious, but you weren't sure how he'd react knowing that you had one. 

You were currently standing in the middle of Eddie's apartment. He had invited you over for your usual dinner and movie night at his place, but he was still out at the store getting a few things.

Vex was currently watching you pace back and forth, rather nervously. She was confused as to why you couldn't just tell Eddie. He was a weird dude, surely he'd love an alien too. Vex just got that vibe from him, though, she never said anything because she figured it would've come off as rude. 

"Why can't we tell him?" Vex asked innocently.

"What if he ... Y'know, understandably, doesn't want to be with a freak like us?" you sounded worried.  

"We aren't freaks. We're just..." Vex hesitated, trying to be mindful of your almost fragile human feelings, "Odd."

"What if Eddie doesn't like odd..." you stopped pacing and sighed, hanging your head in defeat, "V, he's like so normal it hurts. He writes news articles and takes pictures for said articles, and he comes home and usually burns everything he cooks- Like... A normal person.. He's a square, we're a triangle."

"I think we're more of a circle, but okay.." Vex saw the sad look you had given her before you directed your attention to the window, "We have to tell him, Y/n. He'll understand."

"What if he doe-"

"His loss."

There was a long pause before Vex nudged you softly, "It's going to be okay. I promise." 

"If you're wrong-"

"If I'm wrong, I will do whatever you want for a month."

"Fine..." 

You decided to sit down and try to calm down and think about what the hell you were going to tell Eddie. God, what if he didn't want to be with you anymore? What if he made you choose? You already knew what you'd choose, Vex, of course.. You just didn't like the thought of not be able to be with Eddie. 

"You're getting awfully nervous, why don't we just relax?"

"Easy for you to say.." you looked at Vex with a soft smile. 

"Let me try something." she replied shyly, "I saw it on a tv show." 

"Oh boy." you chuckled, "Here we go." 

She seemed to vanish for a moment, and you thought you had hurt her feelings. You went to rub your neck, but noticed that she had decided to appear in the palm of your hand in the shape of a very small shape.

"Oh my god," you cooed, "You're so adorable." 

You rubbed her little head with your finger and she seemed pleased, sticking her tongue out a little, "I saw that pets help relieve stress." 

"Snake was your go to?"

"Lady on the show had one.. And I told myself, 'Hey, I can do that.'" she seemed amused. 

You were about to crack a joke when the apartment door opened and you shot out of your seat, symbiote still in hand. Your mouth hung open as you saw Eddie come in and set his stuff down. You gently, but quickly, covered the hand with Vex in it, "Hi, Eddie!"

"Hey!" he chirped shaking off his slightly damp jacket, "Did you know that it was supposed to rain today?”

Your eyes quickly darted to the window and then back to him, "No, i did not.”

Eddie raised his eyebrow and looked you over, "You alright?'

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He pointed at your awkwardly clasped hands, "You've been stuck like that since I came in. You okay?"

"Uhm..." You could feel the nervousness creeping up your throat, "Yeah, just, uh.."

"Tell him." you heard Vex in your head.

And much out of habit you replied back in a whisper, "I'm getting there."

"Huh?" Eddie asked, now putting his full attention on you, "Really, babe, you okay? You're looking a little flushed." 

You needed another excuse to not stand there like an idiot, "Yeah, I'm just.." 

You sighed heavily, looking at your hands for a moment, and then turning your head to Eddie. He seemed rather interested, and almost a little bit nervous himself, almost like he could tell where this is going. You were positive that whatever he was thinking wasn't accurate, but hell, here goes nothing.

"I think I need to tell you something." you said, trying not to stutter. 

You saw Eddie tense up a little. This could not end well, mainly because in his experience, people needing to talk or say anything lead to him being alone somehow. 

"O-okay, go for it." he tried to sound calm. 

You nervously walked around the couch and over to where Eddie stood like a fence post. You extended your clasped hands and winced a little as you finally opened your hands. There was a good minute and a half before Eddie chuckled.

"Am I missing something?"

your eyes snapped open and you looked at your palms, "What the fu- ..Hey..." 

Eddie smiled, "Did you lose it, or, did you just want to show me your clammy palms...Because I've seen those plenty of times.”

"No, no," you sounded even more nervous, "I did have something to show you." 

Eddie, not wanting to downplay the idea of you having something extremely sensitive or serious to say, gently pulled you into a hug, "It's okay. We'll find it." 

"It's not exactly something I can lose..." you sighed, wrapping your arms around Eddie, "It's something I'm kinda-"

"Stuck with?" he asked, a little too quickly. 

"Not the words I'd use." you looked over his shoulder and noticed the little shit of a symbiote you had. Vex was still in the, now due to sheer spite, you'll dumb the wet noodle form. Her eyes were turned up in a devious smile, and her small tongue was still hanging out. 

"Hmm." Eddie hummed, "I'm sure whatever it is, it can't be that bad." You held Eddie a little tighter, "So, you remember that whole Carlton Drake fiasco?"

"Of course?" Eddie awkwardly remained put as you latched onto him, "Shit changed my life." He paused for a moment or two, "For the better, obviously." 

Eddie knew where this was going. You knew he had a symbiote. You were probably trying to let him down easy. Better get this show over with. 

"I know where this is going," Eddie sighed as he pulled away from you. 

Vex, being surprised, had hid up your shirt sleeve, and you did your best not to laugh at the sudden tickling feeling of it. You covered your mouth for a second before playing it off as clearing your throat, "You... You do?" 

"It's not like this is the first time," he sounded a bit hurt, "Look, I know I should've told you forever ago, but I really, really, really like you... And I don't know, I thought you'd think I was some kind of freak..I couldn't really.." He awkwardly rubbed his neck, "I just didn't want to lose you so quickly."

Now it was your turn to be confused. There was no way that this was going where you thought it was going, "Hang on a second." 

Eddie nervously bit his lip and looked at you, "Yeah?" 

"Are you about to," you were trying to play it off as an oddly specific joke, "I dunno, tell me that you have some sort of alien living inside of you, but it's totally okay, because maybe they're pretty cool and keep you company. Even though som-"

"Was that really just a guess?" Eddie seemed rather surprised, "That's...Eerily specific." 

"But you were, weren't you?" 

Oh god, he didn't have an alien.

"I.." He fiddled with his bracelets for a moment, looking at the floor like a child, "Well, I wasn't gonna phrase it like that..."

"What are the fucking chances of that?" you asked, almost amazed.

"Chances of what?"

"Oh geez, uhm." you nervously laughed, "Man, would it be crazy if I told you that I also had an alien friend too?"

"You're just dicking with me."

"I'm being serious! I just never said anything because I thought you'd leave because you're a total square." 

"I'm not a square." Eddie replied defensively.

"You recorded Bride Wars on the DVR, Eddie."

"That wasn't me. That was.." He did record it, and he wasn't about to explain himself, "Okay, wait, hang on a second. Let me just... Process this."

The room fell very quiet. You awkwardly pulled at the bottoms of your sleeves, not knowing if you should say anything. After abut 3 minutes, you sighed, "It's not a math question, you know." 

Eddie looked at you and smiled, "I know, I know. I just don't know what to say." 

"Anything would be good." 

"Anything." he said.

"Eddie-"

He laughed a little, "What you said say anything.."

You sighed before smiling, "Okay, so now what?"

"Is dinner okay?"

"Dinner? I just- You just- Are we not going to talk about the, I dunno, aliens we have inside us?"

In typical Eddie fashion, he shoved his hands into his pockets, "Can we talk about it over dinner?"

You were about to object, but Vex poked out of the neck hole of your shirt, "Depends, what are we having?"

"I was thinking spaghetti," Eddie replied, not even batting an eye, "But if that's not your thing, we can do whatever." 

Vex looked up at you, seeming pleased with the whole situation, "Yes, spaghetti is good." 

"Great!" He replied, walking over to the stove.

You took a seat on one of the small bar stools that was situated at the kitchen island, "Soooooo.....We're just, like, chill about this?"

Eddie turned to look at you, and you noticed there was something different about him. He seemed relaxed, "I'm just relieved is all." 

"Relieved?" 

Eddie looked back at the stove for a minute, absentmindedly picking the stains on it's shiny surface, "Well, yeah. I really didn't think there was anyone out there who'd really... Get it. Y'know?" 

You leaned forward a little, smiling softly, "Yeah. I was just surprised you had your own. Funny how that worked out." 

"Mm." He hummed, turning on the sink faucet and grabbing a pot. 

"Need any help there, chef?" you chuckled. 

"Perhaps." 

"I'll take that as a yes."

You got up and joined Eddie in front of the stove. You busied yourself with gathering the ingredients, and Eddie was tasked with not burning himself. You were preoccupied with opening the jar of pasta sauce when you heard a rather deep voice.

“I told you.”

“You did not.” Eddie replied, opening the box of noodles.

“I did too.”

“Whatever you say, V.” 

“V?” you asked. Out of habit, Vex popped out of your sleeve and looked up at you.

Eddie looked at your symbiote for a second and then at you, “Yeah, short for Venom.”

“What a name.” you replied, setting the jar to the side, “Uh, mine’s name is Vex...So, also V.” 

“That’s not going to get confusing.” Eddie smiled. 

Vex looked at Eddie and watched him put the noodles into the boiling water. She also caught a glimpse of Venom giving her a death stare, but it didn’t feel aggressive, even if that’s how it looked. He was probably shy and just didn’t want to say it.

“What if we came up with like cool nicknames for them?” Eddie asked, a little too excited. 

“Like what?” you replied with curiosity. 

“What’s their favorite candy?” 

“I like kitkats.” Vex answered, “I like the crunch of the wafer.”

“See? We can call you Kitkat!” 

You scoffed playfully, “That’s ridicu-”

“I love it.” Vex was practically radiating joy.

“Do I get a new nickname?” Venom asked, surprisingly sheepishly, “I like-”

“Peanut M&M’s.” Eddie finished his sentence, “So, we can call you Peanut.” 

“Thanks,” Venom replied, “I hate it.” 

“You love it.” he replied, “Hey, can you get me a spoon, Peanut?”

Venom glared at Eddie for a moment before obeying, fetching a spoon for Eddie, “Just because I listened doesn’t mean I like it.” 

"We think it’s cute,” You and Vex said together.

Venom seemed surprised and he looked at you. He never made it known, but he had grown quite fond of you. Never in his life did anyone’s opinion mean more than yours and your symbiotes.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” you said, “It suits you.”

Venom peeked up at Eddie, who gave him a sly wink, and then returned his attention to you, ‘It’s not so bad, but that’s only because Y/n likes it.”

You and Vex chuckled as you two got plates and silverware out. You felt better, and you were sure everything was going to work out just fine. All you had to do now is make sure that Vex and Venom got along. How hard could that be?

[rosapiike]

It was impossible for Sarah to not think about that coin toss.

She can distinctively remember thinking ‘No matter what it is, heads or tails, we will be together. We will make it work.’ It was a comforting thought at the moment, and for a while they did make it work until it didn’t anymore. Fate can keep us together he suggested and now those words felt like a knife to the gut. In hindsight she should’ve seen it coming. They were floating on air, living together on borrowed time and when that time was up they both fell flat to the ground. Her mind began to go through everything that went wrong, every decision they could’ve improved – she’d done that a million times before – and the conclusion was always the same…

Maybe they didn’t want to be together as much as they made themselves believe. Daydreaming about a relationship was less bittersweet than actually being together.

“Mac.” She heard the familiar voice that snapped her back to reality. “Sorry I’m late.” Her eyes followed his movement as Harm sat across her, a mild smile upon her lips. She didn’t mind him being late, it did give her time to think. Mac could feel it in her bones that this wasn’t a bad idea, frankly it was way overdue. The idea of dinner might have been his, but she planted the idea in his head that last time they saw each other. Nurtured it with a simple phrase ‘We are way passed letting fate decide’ and here they are.

“I think you’re just in time.” The brunette replied nonchalantly, an easy smile covering her features.  Though there was an odd sense of awkwardness, Mac did managed to stomp it down by reaching for the glass of water settled in front of her and took a sip. Keeping busy kept her from feeling nervous. Which was stupid to begin with. This is Harm, they gone through hell together in more than one occasion, so feeling nervous about dinner together was preposterous. But the heart is involved. Her heart still beats just a tad faster whenever he is around. All these years she had made herself belief to have gotten over him but the truth was something else entirely. Now here she is getting whiplash from all their memories together.

Get a grip.

“You’re the one with the perfect internal clock so I’ll take your word for it.” He replied with a slight smirk causing Mac to roll her eyes. Some things never change. “I’m glad we are doing this.” Harm supplied after a few seconds of silence in which she continued drinking water. Really, really needed to keep busy.

“Why? Because I’m paying for dinner?” She finally spoke up, softly placing down the half full glass of water. Slowly but surely, the nervous energy was ebbing away. All that was left is that penchant they had to tease each other. “You’re not that poor, Harm.”

In turn the male laughed, shaking his head ready to speak up but a waiter interrupted by asking if he wanted to drink. Harm ordered himself whiskey and a club soda for Mac. She watched in wonder as they interaction ended and it was all so reminiscent to the times they went out for dinner and as second nature Harm ordered he same thing. It was like falling in old habits.

Mac watched him closely, head tilting to the side.

“What?” He questioned, mirroring the way she titled her head. There was so much going through her mind, once again.

“Do you ever wonder what could have been if you never got on that plane?” Mac swallowed thickly, the words barely leaving her mouth as she thinks about that fateful day a decade ago. How they went their separate ways without fighting the separation. It was still fresh in her mind. Can still hear the sound of the plane taking off, leaving with her heart in it.

“Mac I--” but he stopped himself from speaking and the brunette shrugged. Of course he had no words to accompany her name.

There was a sad smile on her lips, “You made me believe in fate you know. As against as I was to it, I believed. But I should’ve known better. Hard work is a better alternative than waiting for things to happen.” Leaning back on her chair, she watched Harm process the words. He knew exactly what she meant. One of them didn’t try hard enough. There always was this barrier between them, a barrier that never allowed them to be exactly who they could be.

“You make it sound like I didn’t love you enough.”

Hearing that hurt. It wasn’t at all how she felt. Mac always known he did love her, his feelings were never in doubt. He just really didn’t know what to do with all that love. It took them forever to actually be together and it was mainly because of him. Though she does have blame to share with him but she cannot focus on her or his shortcomings. Living in the past would only put false expectations on the future and she doesn’t want to think about what can be but rather in the now. “I never doubted your love, Harm.” She replied softly, “You showed me your heart in ways I could’ve never imagined. That is what makes all of this the more hurtful. I experienced a side of you I never seen before and then you closed yourself off again. And I never understood why.”

The waiter returned with their drinks. The silence stretching taut. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all, but that feeling inside her chest told her otherwise. If they never talked about it, they could never move on. And she wants to move on, there was no point in living in the past. Although there were good memories (and they outweigh the bad) going in circles wasn’t healthy for either of them. From time to time Harm came up in her mind and she always wondered how he was doing, wishing to be at his side if only for a while but that needed to stop. They needed to have a clean break or…

“What now then?” He asked and Sarah breathed out softly.

What now indeed.

“I don’t know.” She answered, echoes of her previous answer to the same question running through her head. Yes, they were way passed letting fate decide but he knows that, maybe more than anyone. So she reached for her soda club and smiled sadly.

“We either try or let each other go. As simple as that.”

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Sands #3 (1/7/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Alastor @dontasktheradiodemon​ gets caught watching Sir Pentious @usedhearts​ (a.k.a. Pentell (a.k.a. Telly)) swim in the ocean, and is invited to check out a nearby island with him to look at a sea serpent. Alastor spends the trip feeling hella gay toward Sir Pentious. Sir Pentious spends the trip feeling steadily increasingly gay toward Alastor. Both of them spend the trip clinging to each other at every opportunity and thinking "wow I hope he doesn't think it's weird how much I'm clinging to him.” Sir Pentious gets dejected over his odds of conquering Hell and Alastor reassures him that he'll make it eventually, Alastor gets hurt over the suggestion that he wants people to fear him and Sir Pentious reassures him that he isn't afraid, they both get unusually vulnerable and talk about their feelings while wearing almost nothing, it's beautiful stuff.

Folks, if you’re part of the crowd that’s following this blog because you like the gay shit: here’s some prime gay shit.

Sir Pentious

There he was, swimming in a warm sea at last. It felt so good to finally be in the sea again, though he'd never properly swam in this body, it came so naturally to him. Twisting and turning in the water, he breached, in a similar way to certain animated movie about a mermaid.

Alastor

And there Alastor was, nowhere near the sea at all, hanging out in the library sitting at a window that *definitely coincidentally and not at all intentionally* had a great view of the spot where Sir Pentious had chosen to swim. He was there to read. He'd grabbed a book in a human language to prove it.

That didn't explain why he was leaning halfway out the window with his elbows on the windowsill instead of reading, but no doubt he had a perfectly logical explanation that had nothing to do with the snake that just so happened to be swimming below.

Sir Pentious

He dived again, slicing through the clear water with intent. He didn't surface again until his lungs burned for air-- and that took a lot longer nowadays than when he was alive.

He gasped when he surfaced, and glanced around, making sure he hadn't gone too far. Nope, there was the mansion right there-- and who was that watching? He squinted, shading his eyes (the ones on his face) with a hand.

"Oh! Alastor! Hello!" He shouted, waving an arm when he recognized the Radio Demon that was actually nice to him. "Alastor, it's me, Sir Pentious--" The instant he said it he realized how confusing that might be. "The other one! The one who gave you the zebra!" Yes, that would clear things up certainly.

Alastor

When Sir Pentious shielded his eyes and waved, Alastor jerked upright in alarm. He banged his head on the window frame. *Ow.* An alien song played as he accidentally jumped to another station.

He shook his head to clear it. Play it cool. Sir Pentious didn't suspect anything yet. Alastor stood up, pretending he'd just been leaning out the window to get a better view of the swimmer. "Oh, hello! Sea Serpent-ious!" (His voice sounded a lot closer to Sir Pentious than it actually was. Don't worry about it. Probably a Radio Demon thing.) "How's the water?"

Sir Pentious

The smile on his face could probably be seen from space it was so big. He still waved at Alastor, but now in a beckoning gesture.

"It's wonderful! Come down here and join me, so we don't have to shout!"

Alastor

"Okay, I'll be right down." He stepped back from the window and into the shadows of the library.

And then he was on the beach. How did he get there? Did anyone see how he actually arrived? No? Don't worry about it, it's probably fine.

Sir Pentious

Telly slithered through the water to it's edge. He didn't come all the way out though-- that sand was far to irritating to tempt it right now. He waved still, though, as he saw Alastor approach.

"I had been wondering where you were! I haven't seen you in a good small while. How are you?"

Alastor

"Oh, I've been all over the place! The kitchen, exploring the grounds, checking out the broadcasting equipment in the tower, the kitchen again..." He laughed. "What about you—been swimming and sunning the whole time?"

Sir Pentious

"Just about." He laughed, coiling to rest his arms on his tail. "I've never been in an ocean this warm before, I want to enjoy every second of it." He sat up and gasped.

"Oh! I've been catching fish, too, and eating them. There are quite a lot of tasty ones here."

Alastor

"Have you!" Alastor's eyes lit up. "Well, toss a few of your catches my way! I've been cooking with the kitchen's supplies, but fresh fish would be even better!"

Sir Pentious

"Oh well, I'm not sure if they'd be good for anyone but me and Sir Pentious to eat, considering our venom." He tapped his chin a moment. "You know, I'm not even sure we _have_ the same venom!"

He shrugged before reaching a hand towards Alastor. "Come closer, you're still much too far away."

Alastor

"It's worth checking!" He's stuck worse things in his mouth.

"What, and get my good clothes soaked?" His "good clothes" that were tattered to hell around the hems.

Sir Pentious

Telly huffed and rolled his eyes (all of them) and gesture to the top of his coils, which were well out of the water.

"Sit here then. You won't get wet there, I'm too far into the shallows for you to be reached." Oh and there comes the Snake Eyes, he is pouting!

Alastor

Hear that sound? That's the sound of Alastor's brain breaking. This is a trap. Or a prank. Or somebody shot his brains out and he's hallucinating as his skull puts itself back together. Please hold while his ability to think boots back up.

He smiled brightly. "Sure! Sounds practical!" He waited for the surf to wash out as much as it would, then bounded across the space between them with a couple of quick splashing steps. He landed more heavily than he'd intended on Sir Pentious in his haste to pull his shoes out of the water. "Very obliging of you!" His pants cuffs were wet. He tried to squeeze them out, then polished his shoes dry with his sleeves.

Sir Pentious

Telly only tilted his head as he waited, and then his smile returned when Alastor began his little splashing dance over. The landing was a little rough, but it didn't hurt, and now that Alastor was seated, he got the snake's full attention.

"That's much better, now it doesn't feel like we're separated onto land and sea by fate!" He laughed, leaning down to resume his posture of arms on his coils. Telly stared up at Alastor, his tongue flicking out to sniff him. "Can't you just magically dry yourself? Why so worried about the water?"

Alastor

"Sure, I can dry it off—but the sea salt remains. It'll damage the fabric." And Alastor's poor frayed clothes sure couldn't take extra damage. "Plus, it'll destroy animal hides if you let it! These shoes are genuine deer skin, it's next to impossible to get that in Hell these days! And all that aside, who wants salt crusted in your leg hair?"

He turned his smile on Sir Pentious. "So I'll be staying *right* here, thank you!"

Sir Pentious

Another huff, but then a sly look came across Telly's face.

"Oh, woe! It's too bad that you are so concerned for your clothing! Here I was about to whisk you away to a small island I discovered nearer to where the Sea Serpent has decided to lounge! So much for Telly and Alastor's great island adventure!"

During his speech, he'd flipped himself, dramatically putting the back of his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. He cracked one open to look at Alastor and check if it was working, before he snapped it shut again.

Alastor

Oh, he had Alastor's full attention now—and not just because of the theatrics, which got a laugh from him. Sea serpent, huh?

"Oh, *come* now!" He leaned forward to slide an arm around Sir Pentious's shoulders and rescue him from his swoon. "As if I would pass up on an *island adventure!*" He snapped his fingers, and his clothing immediately switched out for a bathing suit. Apparently he could have done that the whole time.

It wasn't until his sleeves disappeared and the texture of fabric under his arm was replaced by smooth, wet scales that he registered the fact that Sir Pentious wasn't wearing a thing but a bathing cap. It hadn't seemed significant a moment ago. Of course he was naked from the waist down, he always was; of course he was naked from the waist up, that was the style in masculine bathing attire these days; and so it took until right that moment for him to register that he was sitting, half undressed himself, upon an utterly naked snake. And didn't he look so lovely and glistening.

He snapped his gaze away from Sir Pentious, scanning the horizon. "So! Where is this mysterious island near the legendary beast?"

Sir Pentious

Said bathing cap blinked at him with one big eye, the usual grin Hattie wore gone in this shape. But the eye was still there! Yes indeed, Hattie had turned himself into a swimming cap, just for this.

Telly, meanwhile, perked up, tongue flicking as Alastor swapped clothing-- and he could almost smell the magic as he did. Oo, tingly. He turned and pointed a ways off, a little spit of an island, with a few plants and rocks.

"It's over there! It doesn't take me too long to swim to, even if I stay on the surface, so it shouldn't take us long!" He turned to beam back at Alastor. "It'd be best to hold on to my waist-- don't want you slipping off while I swim, and I'll keep my upper body out of the water."

Alastor

Don't think about wrapping an arm securely around Sir Pentious's waist while drifting with him beneath the waves. Don't. Do not think about it. "Oh, don't worry about sticking to the surface! Drag me as deep as you want, I don't need to breathe. If we get separated, I can get myself back up to the light, never you fear."

Sir Pentious

"You don't?" His head titled, quizically. "That's interesting! I do. Hm! Well, we can dive then-- it's really lovely under there, but I'm not sure if your eyes will be alright with the salt water. Mine have waterlidsss, ssso I can sssee everything."

He gave a little shrug and uncoiled himself, grabbing Alastor by the arm to make sure he didn't slip off. "I'd really rather you hold on to me, though, I swim fairly fast!"

Alastor

"Not until I need to talk! Which, truth be told, puts a pretty solid restriction on how long I can handle not breathing, hah!" He rapped his knuckles against his chest, "It's almost all radio parts in here."

As Sir Pentious uncoiled, Alastor got to his feet, letting the water wash over his legs. After a moment of hesitation, he said, "All right. It will probably be more secure." A pause. "... Right now?"

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed. "Sure it's all right to get you wet, then? Don't want to destroy any delicate machinery!"

He uncoiled full and stretched out, patting the part of his tail right behind his torso. "Yes, right now! Hop on, I want to get out there and see the Sea Serpent again!"

Alastor

"As long as I keep my breath held!"

Oh, he was supposed to sit on him, too? Gulp. "Ohh-kay." He took a seat, wrapped his arms around Sir Pentious's waist, and tried to just hover near his back rather than give into the urge to press his cheek to Sir Pentious's spine.

Sir Pentious

He could see Alastor get on through his body eyes, and snorted at how delicately he sat. "Come now, I'm not going to break! Hold tighter, like this--" He took Alastor's wrists and tugged him forward, and then wrapped on of Alastor's hands around the opposite wrist.

"There! Keep that grip locked, that should keep you secure." Telly turned and began to slither away from the shore, toward the island. "I'll stay on the surface until we get deep enough that I can dive. It's a very pretty sight, I hope you're able to see at least some of it!"

Alastor

He pressed flat against Sir Pentious's back. *Oh.* Something schmaltzy tried to start playing; he forcibly killed it in the first few notes. "I can keep my eyes open underwater. You worry about the swimming, I'll focus on sightseeing!"

Sir Pentious

"All right!" He laughed again, and his slithering picked up speed, getting them into deeper water. Once they were far enough out he called over his shoulder.

"On the count of three, take a big breath!" His grin widened as he started to count. "One! Two! Three!" And there he went, diving down and down and down.

Alastor

At the end of the countdown, Alastor immediately started playing "Call to the Post"—and immediately stopped again as they dove underwater.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut the first few seconds as they dove underwater, then forced one to squint open. He'd remembered that the first few moments after opening your eyes underwater, it would sting; but he'd forgotten what the sting felt like over the decades. When had he last been in an ocean? Nearly a century ago?

He slowly opened his other eye, clinging tightly to Sir Pentious.

Sir Pentious

Telly swam fast, weaving between and around large pieces of coral. His passing startled fish and a myriad of other creatures, all fleeing for cover as he swam. His eyes kept a good look out for anything larger that might threaten, but luckily didn't spot anything dangerous. After a good ten minutes underwater, he headed for the surface, breaching and taking a long, deep breath.

He put his hand over Alastor's, giving it a little squeeze as he asked. "You all right back there? Nothing broken, nothing drenched beyond repair?"

Alastor

The view was vaguely blurry, but he kept his eyes open for it all the same, watching in fascination as the underwater scene went by. He almost wanted to stop so he could squint more closely at the passing view...

... but he was pressed so close to Sir Pentious that he could feel the way his muscles moved as he swam, and he wasn’t about to give that up for anything.

They’d been on the surface for several seconds before he remembered he could take a breath, too. “Everything’s watertight and shipshape, cap’n!” He automatically squeezed Sir Pentious’s hand back. “Say, are you sure *you* need to breathe? How long were we down there?”

Sir Pentious

"My lungs can expand and are larger than a human's and I can hold my breath for a good, long while. But yes, I do need to breathe, I feel it in how my lungs burn after a while." He looked around, locating the island again. It wasn't far now, he wouldn't even need to dive again. Telly turned toward it and started swimming again. His hand, however, didn't move from its place over Alastor's.

"Oh, did you hear? Valera came up with a nickname for me." He grinned. "Telly! Since I can't be 'Penny' or that would be even more confusing, she used the end of my name instead. Isn't it cute? I like it."

Alastor

“*Telly?* Telly. Huh. You like the sound of it?”” He mentally tried the sound of it out a couple of times. “Well... most of the time I’m not a big fan of the telly—but for you I think I’d make an exception.”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed, a loud cackle, as he swam through the shallows and onto the small island.

"Oh yes, telly, I get it! It's what they call the television in England now! I hadn't even caught that." He slid all the way up onto the sand this time and then released Alastor's hand.

"Here we are, time to disembark the SS Pentious!"

Alastor

He was dimly aware of the water level around him dropping, but he didn’t fully register the fact that they were *on land* until his hooves were dragging in the sand. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to keep clinging until the sea water evaporated and the sea salt cemented their skin together and they got all gross and crusty. And then another five minutes.

But that would raise questions, wouldn’t it.

He let go and stood up. “Best cruise I’ve ever been on. Granted, it’s the *only* cruise I’ve ever been on, but...”

Sir Pentious

Telly had been about to answer, he truly had been, until he turned around enough to get a good look at Alastor-- and nearly burst into laughter. The giggles were bubbling up and he couldn't contain the cackle that rose and flung itself out.

"Oh, Alastor! Oh, I'm so sorry, but you look--! Well, honestly, you look a bit like a drowned rat." His snickering kept up as he came closer. "Here let me help..."

He started fussing over him, brushing Alastor's hair out his face and getting some of the water off it-- and then he was holding Alastor's face in his hands. He froze like that for a good few seconds, his brain short circuiting, and then quickly pulled away, slithering further onto the island. God, he was glad he couldn't blush.

"Ah, um, the Sea Serpent should be on the far side! Not much of a trek, should only take a minute or two."

Alastor

"Or a drowned deer?" He laughed and made a halfhearted attempt to smooth his bangs out. "A soggy stag? A bedraggled buck?"

He clasped his hands behind his back and patiently let Sir Pentious fuss over his hair... until they made eye contact. And Alastor found himself staring, his face in Sir Pentious's hands, and wow Sir Pentious's eyes really were dazzling in full sunlight like this, and it would be so easy to reach up and take Sir Pentious's face in return...

And then the moment ended. How long had he been staring? Oh God. He quickly looked away.

"Wonderful! What's the best way to approach it, around the shore or straight across the island?" Totally normal, nothing happened.

Sir Pentious

"Through the island should work, the Sea Serpent stays a little ways off shore, probably to not beach itself."

He stayed turned away until he could get his breathing and heart rate under control, before turning back to smile at Alastor. He really was still excited and he hoped that showed in his smile.

"These plants are fascinating-- blue instead of green, it's so curious!"

Alastor

Alastor glanced over JUST long enough to register that smile and then had to look away again. Thank God for weird-colored plants that gave him an excuse to look at something other than Sir Pentious. "You know—I hadn't even registered them. I suppose I just brushed it off as 'right, this is the living world, where things come in more colors than red.' I wonder what difference their all being blue makes?" He watched a few more plants as they passed. "Granted, I don't know what difference being green makes either, but."

Sir Pentious

Telly turned his head to look at Alastor again, tilting it at his statement.

"Do you not know why plants are green on Earth?" He asked, frowning for a split second-- before grinning and taking a breath, ready to teach Alastor a little.

"Plants on earth have chlorophyll in their cells! It's what allows them to photosynthesis! They take in mostly blue and red spectrum lights, but reflects green spectrum light, which is why they look green! Which makes me wonder if these plants have a similar element to their structure, but one that reflects blue and instead absorbs green!" He tapped his chin. "I wonder if Valera would allow me to take some home to study..."

Alastor

Alastor blinked and laughed a little. "Hold on, hold on! Plants can synthesize photos because they've got chloroform in their cells, that stuff that knocks you out—but it makes it reflect light but only if that light's green—say, if it's absorbing red and blue light, then shouldn't it be turning the leaves red and blue?" He gazed at a passing plant critically. "I've never seen a plant synthesize a photo. I'm pretty sure you need a camera for that." Telly you toss out these terms like they're gonna make sense to someone who doesn't know what they mean,

"Who needs permission? Do they own every leaf on the planet?" Alastor leaned over, plucked a stem with a cluster of leaves off of a nearby shrub, and with a flourish tucked it away in another dimension. He winked at Sir Pentious.

Sir Pentious

There's a lot of blinking and then Telly's laughing as well, loud and long.

"No! None of that is right, Alastor! It's chloro_phyll_.  It's Greek, from _khloros_ which means 'pale green' and _phyllon_ which means 'leaf'. Photosynthesis is how plants eat! They absorb sunlight and carbon dioxide from the air, along with water from their roots, and use the process of photosynthesis to create nutrients. I'm not a botanist, so I don't know all the ins and outs of the process, but that's how they live!

"And as for the light, the colors we see are actually the wavelengths of light that are reflected instead of what is absorbed. Like my scales are black, yes? This is because they absorbs all the wavelengths of light and reflect none, thus they appear black, whereas my belly scales are yellow to the eye because they absorb all the other wavelengths except yellow! Wavelengths of color in light is why you can take a prism and get sunlight to refract into a rainbow! The prism separates the wavelengths!"

He's very excited about being able to babble about random science things, can you tell, Alastor? Very excited indeed.

Alastor

He's just gonna be silent a moment as he absorbs multiple science lessons he probably zoned out for at age twelve. It's a lot easier to listen now than when he was twelve: his current teacher is much more excited about the topic and much more enjoyable to listen to.

At the end, he's got one takeaway: "So plants are performing alchemy." Listen. If turning sunlight and water into nutrients isn't alchemy, Alastor doesn't know what is.

Sir Pentious

Again, Telly pauses to process what Alastor's saying. He feels like this may become a habit. His head tilts as he mulls it over.

"Hm, I suppose so! Taking things and turning them into other things _is_ basic alchemy! Maybe that is why plants are used in many magical things? That's more your area than mine, I suppose." He realized then that they had stopped moving to have this little chat, and started slithering again.

Alastor

"Personally I suspect it's because they're everywhere, they're edible, and they don't fight back! If you need a potion ingredient that's tied to the moon and offers healing and protection, eucalyptus is easier to get and easier to swallow than a chunk of silver. But maybe that's why they're so magical in the first place?" He rolled his eyes up at the sky as he thought. "I don't remember if any major occultists discussed why so many plants are inherently magical. It's been the better part of a century since I've had all my texts."

Sir Pentious

"There are magical texts that aren't already in Hell?" He slithered closer, head titled, curious.

"I would've thought everything and more would already be down here-- or rather, there! What are you missing, perhaps it is something my universe's counterpart has and he would lend to you?"

Alastor

"Oh, just the more high-level stuff—Greek occult philosophy, sixteenth century theoretical texts, that sort of thing. The material that's more intellectual than practical. Hell has is own magical scholars, who needs to smuggle in outdated works by mortal occultists who have only been working with magic a fraction as long?" He shrugged. "And much of it isn't relevant at all to doing magic in Hell! Take the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, for instance! A list of sixty-nine of Hell's most important demons—members of the nobility one and all—and their areas of speciality, their personalities, their ranks and duties... An invaluable resource when you're a mortal getting into demon bargaining! Less useful when you're in Hell and every subway newsstand carries cheap booklets listing all of the hundreds of members of Hell's noble hierarchy, and the current bestseller list includes an unauthorized biography of Paimon. Who needs to risk summoning a duke to plea with him to kill someone on your behalf if you can phone an imp to do the same job for a few hundred bucks?"

Sir Pentious

Telly listened attentively, even if most of it flew over his head-- except the bits about the heirarchy of demons, he knew that well. And just like that his brain is shooting off on a tangent.

"Do you know which Overlords you killed during your massacre? I know you toppled a lot, but I wonder if any of them were known to you before you died, from research! Or were they all new faces to you?"

Alastor

"Want me to tell you a little secret?" He flung an arm around Sir Pentious's shoulders and leaned in close, conspiratorially. "I actually didn't kill *any* of them. It's not like I arrived in Hell armed with an angelic spear! No, all I did was thrash them around a bit! A bit of mangling and dismemberment, all harmless fun, really." He smirked slyly. "It's their underlings and rivals that did them in while they were vulnerable. All I did was present an opportunity."

Alastor let go and drifted back to his original distance. "But no, I didn't know any of them. All my dealings had been with true demons—hellborn infernals and fallen celestials—since those are the only denizens of Hell that past occultists have been able to find contact information for. After all, sinners can't be summoned out of their prison! And, of course, all the overlords I toppled were sinners, not the demons I'd been dealing with before."

Sir Pentious

When Alastor came in close, Telly's tongue couldn't help but blelele a little. He smelt like the sea-- probably because of their little swim-- and boy, did that make his heart race.

He shook his head, clearing away the twitterpatted thoughts that flew through it, and concentrated on what he said.

"Really? I could have sword your counterpart in my universe did kill some Hellborn! Perhaps that's a difference between you and he? Hm! Very interesting."

Alastor

"Kill *hellborn* overlords?" Alastor laughed in disbelief. "Not unless some imps managed to climb the ranks and got caught in the crossfire! Or he landed a lucky shot, I suppose. I suppose he could have gotten some middling-ranked hellborn demons. But Hellish *nobility*—the kind of demons who make it into mortal realm grimoires—are universally ranked above sinners for a reason. The best magic we've ever managed doesn't come anywhere near what they were *created* already capable of."

Alastor shook his head. "No, no, fighting a native demon with magic is like fighting an inferno with a matchstick. When a human manages to start toppling nobles, it won't be by trying to use their own weapons against them. It will be by using a tool they can never match: human invention."

A side glance at Sir Pentious. Hey there, human inventor.

Sir Pentious

He merely nodded along with Alastor's words until the end, and it took him a few moments for that last phrase to click.

"Oh! Oh, you...you mean me?" He pointed at himself, blinking rather owlishly.

"Well, I do have ideas! A lot of them, but none that have come to fruition yet, and I've had over a hundred years to test them!" He sighed and turned to look out through the plants, back towards the ocean.

"Sometimes I think it will be impossible for me to conquer Hell-- considering how much time I've already spent, not to mention how everyone thinks of me. Even if I make a weapon that can kill Hellborn Princes and such, who's to say if I'll be able to make use of it before one extermination or another gets me? It's honestly a miracle I've lasted this long..."

Alastor

Alastor scoffed. "A *mere century!* It took humanity thousands upon thousands of years to create vaccines, to invent the radio, to reach the moon... you think a human ought to be able to usurp the second most powerful entity in the universe in *one century*?"

Alastor elbowed Sir Pentious. "You survived *this* many exterminations, which is more than we can say for sinners a fraction of your age—and now you've got an escape route so you never have to face another extermination. Just one more step up for you."

Sir Pentious

His hood twitches at the elbow and he almost hisses-- instinct when his head starts to turn south, but he gets it under control before he does it. Instead his tongue just sticks out and stays there for a bit longer than normal.

"Yes, but it only took me half a decade to create my airship! I should be further along than I am, I should be better...." He slumped down, his tail coiling around him as he hunkered down. His arms laying across the top, he buried his face in them.

"It'sss ssso frussstrating! I want to be sssso much further in my planssss, in my relationsssshipssss, in my....well, not life, but unlife, I sssupossse! But I'm not! It'ssss like I can ssssee the end perfectly in my mind, but the path there issss murky and dark." His breath hitched a moment, but he held back any tears. He wouldn't cry, not now. He _wouldn't._

"I want it all sssso badly, Alasssstor...."

Alastor

Alastor stopped when Sir Pentious plopped down. After a moment of hesitation, he knelt down next to him. "I know you do." Alastor tentatively slid an arm around his shoulders. "And I believe, with every fiber in my dead heart, that you *will* have it all. Hell throws up every blockade it can to try to slow down its prisoners' progress—but by God, we're still *humans,* and that means we're stubborn sonsa." He offered an encouraging smile. "Hell can delay you, but it can't stop you forever—just as long as you keep moving toward the end."

Sir Pentious

The arm around him was a comfort, and slowly, he uncoiled-- if only to get his arms around Alastor in a hug. He clung tight to him, face pressed against his shoulder, and stayed there, taking a few deep breaths to help calm down-- the advice from Penny helping a lot.

"Thank you, Alassstor," He said at last, holding him tight still. "Thank you for your ssssupport, for being a....a good friend." Telly laughed softly, and a bit bitterly.

"I mussst sssseem so erratic and volatile, getting all emotional at the drop of a hat. I'm ssssorry."

Alastor

Alastor hugged back, one arm just as tight around Sir Pentious's waist and the other rubbing his back. "You've got a lot to *be* emotional about. You've been in this fight a long time. I apologize for dragging it all back up."

Sir Pentious

"No, no, I sssstarted usss talking about Overlordsss and the like. It'sss my fault." He sighed, and seemed for all intents and purposes, to have calmed down. But he didn't release Alastor, instead he just continued to hug and hold him. It was so nice, especially for a snake as touch starved as Telly. And despite being about as huggable as a bundle of twigs tied together, it was _nice_ hugging Alastor. He liked it, quite a lot.

Alastor

"We'll split the responsibility." Alastor wasn't about to be the one to let go. He stopped rubbing so he could fully slide his arms around Sir Pentious and hold him tight. His eyes slid shut. Oh, this was nice, could he stay here.

Sir Pentious

It took a good, full minute for Telly's brain to start up the 'you're being weird, you're hugging for too long' bell, and he was first to pull away. He cleared his throat, thankful for the second time that day, that he couldn't blush.

"Well, ah....ssshall we continue to the Ssssea Ssserpent?"

Alastor

Sir Pentious was pulling back. Alastor's being weird, he's hugging for too long. "Yes! Of course! Back to our main program." He quickly got back on his hooves.

Sir Pentious

And that's when Telly finally noticed the hooves. Wide eyes and tongue sticking out, he leaned down to get a better look. "Oh! I didn't notice before! You have actual hooves! And here I thought it was just a design choice to have hoof prints on the bottom of your shoes!"

Alastor

"Oh! Yes, I do!" He held one leg out, tilting his foot to show off the hoof. "The hoof prints are actually part of the shoe brand—Clove & Fawn cater to sinners with hooves. Custom-made shoes. Best you'll find in Pentagram City." He glanced at Sir Pentious's tail. "Not that you do much shoe shopping!"

Sir Pentious

He laughed and nodded. "It's true! No use for shoes with this!" He willed the end of his tail.

"I suppose they feel like your average hoof then, hm?"

Alastor

"Want to see?" He put one hand on Sir Pentious's shoulder for balance and held his ankle up with the other hand. "Feels the same as any hoof I ever touched."

Sir Pentious

He blinked but then nodded, reaching to run his fingers over the hoof. Yep, definitely a hoof. Though it did feel different-- he'd only ever touched a horse's hoof before.

"It's rough, but not as hard as I thought."

Alastor

“And it’s harder on the outside and softer on the bottom! I haven’t the foggiest idea how that works.” He held still while he was examined. It was like having one of his teeth tapped or his hair tugged: he could feel that he was being touched, but couldn’t feel the touch itself.

Sir Pentious

"Oh! That is curious-- you'd think it would be harder on the bottom, since that is where you walk!" He gave it a few more pokes before he straightens back up. He made sure, however, that Alastor was still steady with a hand on his arm, that slid down to holding his hand only he was fully upright again.

"We should be close to the other side of the island, the Sea Serpent should be basking...."

Alastor

Were they holding hands now? *They were holding hands now.* Wow.

“Oh, *basking!*” The studio audience “oooh”ed appreciatively. “I thought we were going to have to watch it from the shore! Lead the way!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, we will! It will likely be basking out by the rocks in the deeper water! It wouldn't want to come to close to the shallows, it is rather large." He chuckled, slithering fast now, tugging Alastor along.

Alastor

And Alastor followed along eagerly! “Not an amphibious serpent, I take it.”

Sir Pentious

A hissing laugh escaped him and he shook his head. "No, not at all! He is quite locked to the sea, I'm afraid."

And there they were, at last, at the edge of the island-- it felt like eons since they landed, with all they'd talked about, but here they were. And there was the Sea Serpent, just where Telly expected it. Seemed like he already knew its routine better than it did.

Alastor

Alastor’s eyes widened at the sight of the serpent. An impressed whistle sound played. “Now, isn’t that *something!* It just goes on forever, doesn’t it?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes! And look how it glistens in the light! It's such a sight, it almost makes me not want to return to Hell, it's so beautiful." Telly squeezed Alastor's hand and grinned.

Alastor

“Yes, indeed! I can’t think of a sight prettier than the way sunlight shines on a serpent’s scales right after a good swim.”

... That sure was a series of words that just came out of Alastor’s mouth, wasn’t it. *He was looking at the sea serpent. Don’t look at him he’s looking at the monster.*

Sir Pentious

That sure was a series of words that Telly just heard. His brain seemed to leave him for a good moment or two as it chewed on that, like a dog given a bone retreating to its bed to gnaw. Once again, he is thankful he can't blush. But also why should he be blushing, Alastor was clearly talking about the creature in front of them! Definitely not the snake right beside him, holding his hand and taking in this majestic sight with him!

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Yes. Agreed. Very....very pretty." And here he'd called Alastor a drowned rat earlier-- how rude of him...

Alastor

Alastor died eight separate times in the length of that awkward silence.

He wasn’t sure whether not being immediately called out was a blessing or just prolonging the torture. Either way, he was going to pretend nothing had happened. “And what lovely colors it has!” He gestured extravagantly at the serpent. “Absolutely extraordinary! Truly a majestic beast, isn’t it!”

Sir Pentious

Oh good, they're back on the topic of the actual Sea Serpent. "Yes, it is! I've come out here a number of times to look at it, it's glorious!"

He paused and tilted his head. "I do wonder what it's scales would look like back in Hell, since the light there is a considerably darker red!"

Alastor

“Good question! Not as sparkly, I’d imagine!” A pause as he thought. “Of course—there’s one way to find out for sure...”

Sir Pentious

Telly looked over at him, tilting his head. "What way?"

Alastor

“Why—bringing its hide back to Hell, of course!” Oh, he was starting to scheme now. “But I suppose we aren’t armed to bring down something like that, are we?”

Sir Pentious

"No, we're not, I didn't even bring any of my armaments!" He huffed a bit. "Now you've got me thinking about it, and I would love to have it's hide..."

Alastor

"What a shame." The scheming kicked into high gear. "Oh well! I'm sure there will be future opportunities! Next year, if nothing else."

Sir Pentious

"Yes, perhaps next year." He did look a bit disappointed at he turned towards Alastor. "Ready to head back?"

Alastor

No. He wanted to keep holding hands on the beach. Maybe recreate the “Wicked Game” music video. Without the implied beach sex but with the passionate near-naked cuddling and the singing about unexpected but irresistible longing.

“Ready whenever you are!”

Sir Pentious

Well, he'll at least one of those things! The hand holding is still happening, even as Telly turns to slither back towards the far side of the island.

"We could also swim around more, if you like! I like just being around you, Alastor." As soon as he said it, his brain lit up with 'oh no, oh no, that was that too much?' and he kept his face eyes away from Alastor's face. Don't let him see the embarrassment.

Alastor

If they weren’t holding hands Alastor would have floated straight off the ground. “I like being around you, too!” Suave radio host who? Right now he’s just gushing giddily. Look at that gleeful smile.

Sir Pentious

At the return of the sentiment, his head turned and his eyes blinked. Well! That was good to know. He smiled back.

"We could also just stay here a bit? Or sit down by the water. Don't have to leave....right away..."

Alastor

The ghost of Chris Isaak is smiling down on them. “Actually, that sounds perfectly pleasant! Why rush back to shore? What’s over there, *sand?* We’ve got plenty of that right here!”

Sir Pentious

He laughed, nodding a bit. "Exactly! Plenty of sand and water here!"

Telly slithered over to where the water lapped up, and coiled like he had before, his hand still holding Alastor's. "Here we go, a perfect spot."

Alastor

Was that an invitation to sit on the coils again? He was going to treat it like it was. And if he was wrong... well, it was a simple misunderstanding, nobody could fault him for that but himself.

Sir Pentious

It wasn't, but Telly is absolutely not going to mind him sitting back on the coils. In fact, Alastor's going to get an arm around his waist and a chin on his shoulder, and a little bit of purring.

Alastor

He gladly returned the embrace, leaning a little against Sir Pentious as he did. Perfect position to admire the sea serpent from. Yeah, that was his priority here.

Sir Pentious

And out comes the tongue again, a little blelelel near Alastor's cheek. Sure hope he doesn't mind that, little tickling sniff.

Alastor

He doesn’t mind it in the SLIGHTEST. “I probably smell like pure salt right now, don’t I?”

Sir Pentious

"There is salt, yes, but it mixed with your natural scent, and it smells quite nice." Nice enough to earn another few flicks.

Alastor

“‘Nice’?” He laughed in surprise. “Me? *Really?*” Thank goodness he’d showered before this trip. But nobody ever said he smelled *nice.* He was, at best, tolerable and unnoticeable.

Sir Pentious

"Yes. I've always liked the smell of the sea, so smelling on you is nice." That was weird! His brain screamed and he cleared his throat.

"It reminds me of Dover. But a lot warmer."

Alastor

Welp, as soon as he gets home Alastor is switching out all of his shower toiletries for bottles with fragrance names like “Ocean” and “Saltwater Breeze.”

“There probably aren’t many times of the year when it’s pleasant to swim in merry old England, are there?”

Sir Pentious

He laughed. "No, there isn't! Until the summer, when it starts getting hot, you have no chance. But even then, the rains come and chill everything even more."

Alastor

“I’m beginning to understand why England pillaged and plundered half the planet. Any excuse to move away from home, huh?” Studio laughter. “It’s too bad you never made it over to the States! The Gulf of Mexico is warm for, oh... a good half a year or more.”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, it's a shame. I would've loved a warm ocean to swim while human-- the cold water of Dover wasn't as good, certainly." He chuckled. The sun warm on his scales, and comfortable with his arms around Alastor, his eyes started to slide shut. He gave a small yawn and purred.

Alastor

It’s truly a peaceful moment. Tranquil. Quiet.

In all his years Alastor has never been content to leave a quiet moment alive. “So! ‘Telly,’ huh.”

Sir Pentious

His brain had already begun to boot down, and Alastor's voice brings him back to himself. He blinked and took a breath.

"Yes. Telly, from my name Pentell. I like it. But of course, it's only for special people to us."

Alastor

“Do you?” Alastor wasn’t sure *he* did yet. It lacked the grandeur of *Sir Pentious.* He liked that grandeur. In contrast, “Pentell” sounded so normal, and “Telly” sounded... small.

But it wasn’t Alastor’s name, now, was it? It wasn’t Alastor’s job to critique it, it was his job to get used to it. He’d either find a way to make it make sense to himself, or he’d just deal with it. “I don’t know if I’ve ever asked why you started going by Sir Pentious to begin with, have I?”

Sir Pentious

There's a tiny, but sharp, intake of breath from Telly at the question. If Alastor hadn't been so close, he might not have even heard it.

"It is....a long, long, involved story. One that I don't wish to dig up all of at the moment, but the ending of it, is that I considered Pentell Tinley dead, near the end, before I launched my ship, and began to call myself 'Sir Pentious'. Snake themeing and all that. I thought it sounded grandiose, and I was, all things considered, more than a little manic. I still very much like being called it, I like _being_ Sir Pentious, but now it sounds more....overwrought. Overdone. Maybe if I hadn't been in such a state, I would've come up with something subtler."

He laughed, soft and bitter.

Alastor

Alastor scoffed. “Who needs subtlety?” But he did pick up that sharp breath in, and that reluctance around the whole story. It was a name rooted in something that hurt.

“So... what, you think the name feels... too big? Does that sound right to you?”

Sir Pentious

The twinge in his chest felt like a dart piercing his heart. Big. Small. Those words...He hated them.

"Maybe. I don't know. But I think that Sir Pentious is what I need to be, to Hell at large, to the people who try to poke fun at me. But to the rest, the people I care about, I think....I think I'd rather be Telly."

Alastor

“Huh.” He contemplated that a moment. “So... more of a stage name than anything else? You’re only ‘Sir Pentious’ when you’re on the big stage?”

Sir Pentious

He took a breath and thought for a moment. Looks like they were both contemplating between sentences.

"No, not quite. I still _am_ Sir Pentious. I've been him for over a hundred years. I can't not be him, any less than I could not be an inventor, or a snake. I think, perhaps, I am just Pentell Tinley _too_. I can be both, can't I? I used to think I couldn't, but now, I don't think that's true."

Alastor

“What’s the difference between Sir Pentious and Pentell Tinley? I take it there *is* a difference, or else you wouldn’t be describing them as two different people—but what? If that question isn’t none of my business.”

Sir Pentious

"The line does blur, between them, but it's there." He sighed and sat there, pondering it for a long few minutes.

"I suppose, Sir Pentious doesn't care about what anyone says, what anyone does. He is confident and sure and takes action. He plans and plots and has ambition. Sir Pentious wants to take over Hell just to say he did, just to prove he could. He is immaculate and proper and terrifying. He wants everyone on their knees before him, grovelling for his favor. He craves it. He wants attention, he wants all eyes on him. He would destroy everything if it got him what he wanted.

"Pentell, on the other hand...Pentell cares. He cares so much about the perceptions of those around him. He cares what people whisper behind his back. He is cautious, he is careful, he walks on the razor's edge of convention. He tries so hard and so often falls short. Pentell wants to be left alone, he wants to invent, to find joy in the discovery, the creation. Make his own world, with his own two hands. He doesn't want to even deal with other people, unless they are friends. But even then....sometimes he still doesn't.

"And I am....somewhere in the middle, between these two men. Trying to find the balance, walking the tightrope with fire on one side and dark water on the other. I don't know if I can balance properly, or for how long, and I fear falling either way. I just want to be _me_, but the me I want to be is so hard to find...."

He fell silent, moving his face to press against Alastor's back. This was so much easier when he didn't need to look someone in the face. To confess these things. And who would've ever guessed it would the Radio Demon to get these things out of him?

Alastor

He turned over those two personalities in his mind. “Seems a hard pair to reconcile with each other.”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed there, with his face pressed into Alastor's back.

"Ssso you sssee my conundrum. When I am both one, it'ssss hard to sssee the good about being the other, and I don't want to go back, but then I do and I realize that I like _that_ one too, and then the whole thing sssstartssss all over again!"

He huffed and sighed. "I truly am an Ouroborossss, aren't I? Eating my own tail...."

Alastor

“And going around in circles. Why don’t you—you know—take the best parts of each and make up some third person? Call him, I don’t know, Sir Pentellyous?” He laughed, “Okay, the name could use work, but still!”

Sir Pentious

"Maybe that's what I'm already doing, with Telly. Sure, that name won't strike fear into any hearts, but maybe Telly can be the best of both worlds." He sat back up a little, his chin landing squarely back on Alastor's shoulder.

"It will take time, I think. I've wasted a lot of it, but I think, with people around me who actually _care_ about me....well, I think that will help..."

Alastor

“Hm.” He was silent again for a moment. “What’s he going to be like? This perfected version of you. Have any idea?”

Sir Pentious

"I don't know. I think that's part of why it's scary to become someone new. But it's also a little exciting." He smiled.

Alastor

Huff. “I’ve never much liked the process myself.”

Sir Pentious

"Hm, for some reason that doesn't surprise me." He chuckled softly.

Alastor

Alastor laughed. “Why’s that?”

Sir Pentious

"I think it's all the bombast. You put on a show for the world to make it harder to get close. Not that I fault you that, I do it too. So many people already fear and distrust you, so why not play into those emotions? Play with _them_. It's easier to put on a mask than it is to let someone in." He shrugged.

Alastor

Alastor blinked. “Oh, *really.* Is that why I put on a show?” His tone had cooled somewhat. “Well. Thank you for figuring that out for me, Dr. Freud.”

Sir Pentious

His eyes narrowed, and his tongue stuck out and stayed a few moments too long. Telly's arms retreated from around Alastor, and he sat back against his own coils, and they crossed over his chest instead.

"YOU ASKED! WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?" Huff!

Alastor

What *did* he expect? “... Something accurate.”

Alastor glanced at the crossed arms. “There’s my cue.” He pushed himself up off the coils and smoothed down his bathing suit. He wished he was wearing a little more.

Sir Pentious

He frowned when Alastor moved, and he leaned over closer. "SO, YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE NOW, OVER ONE COMMENT? ONE THAT YOU ASKED ME TO GIVE? AFTER EVERYTHING I TOLD YOU?"

His hood flared a little and he hissed. "WHY?"

Alastor

A shrug. “You’re the one who let go of me! I thought you wanted me off.”

Sir Pentious

"IF I WANTED YOU OFF, I WOULD'VE SSSSHOVED YOU OFF!" Now the hood was fully flared and he hissed louder.

"UGH! PERHAPSSS I SSSHOULD'VE EXPECTED THISSSS! YOU _ARE_ AN ALASSSTOR AFTER ALL! ALWAYSSS THE INTERVIEWER, NEVER THE INTERVIEWEE! CAN'T YOU JUSSSST LET DOWN YOUR GUARD FOR TWO SSSECONDSSS? CAN'T YOU TELL ME SSSSOMETHING?! IF I'M SSSO INACCURATE IN MY ASSSSESSSMENT OF YOU, THEN TELL ME _WHY_! I BARED MYSSSSELF TO YOU, CAN'T YOU GIVE ME THE TINIESSST BIT OF DECENCCCY AND GIVE A LITTLE IN RETURN?"

Alastor

“I put on a show because I want people to like me. I want—people to smile when I come into the room. I’m an entertainer. I want them to be entertained.” Boy that sure is a fascinating sea serpent that he’s not going to look away from for a second. “It’s not to push people away, it’s to draw them in.”

Sir Pentious

He huffed again, but his hood lowered fractionally. He took a few more breaths before saying anything.

"WELL, IT DOESSS! IT DOESSS DRAW THEM IN, BUT YOU SSSTILL HIDE BEHIND IT, TOO! NO ONE CAN KNOW THE ENTERTAINER IF HE'S CONSTANTLY ENTERTAINING, CAN THEY? YOU KEEP UP A WALL OF SSSMILESSS, AND MAKE IT HARD TO GET CLOSSSE TO YOU." He leaned across his coils and reached to take Alastor's hand, squeezing it between both of his.

"You don't have to keep the ssshow going all the time. You're allowed to put down the sssmile. I won't judge you, I sssswear."

Alastor

Alastor let him take his hand but didn’t return the squeeze. “The smile stays on. It’s part of me. And the show’s part of me, too! You don’t get closer to the real me if I pretend like I’m not on air, you just get *less* of me! Nobody says ‘you’re always hiding your *true* self from me, show me who you really are—strip off your skin and muscles so I can see your bones!’” He paused. “Well, all right, I knew one fellow who said that—but he was a mass murderer, so I don’t think he should count.” Studio laughter. “But me, I prefer some meat on my friends. What do you think you’re getting if you strip my personality off of me?”

Sir Pentious

Telly sat there, holding Alastor's hand as he spoke, making sure he caught every word, that it processed in his mind. He let his brain chew on it a bit before he responded.

"I don't want that, to ssstrip you of your persssonality. It'sss jusssst...It'sss hard to be clossse to you when I don't know when you're being facetioussss or not. Sssometimesss I underssstand but other timesss I get lossst. Or when you ssseem to get upsssset when I jussst anssswered a quesssstion honessstly. Or when you don't explain why I'm wrong and inssstead jussst assssume I want you to leave." He gave him a meaningful look.

"Do you undersssstand what I'm sssaying? I like you, Alassstor, I want ussss to be good friendssss, and I think we are! I haven't opened up like that to ssssomeone in a long time-- I think I'm doing it more now, though, between you, Hel, Valera, and Sssir Pentiousss. But I want you to trussst me, too, like I've been trussssting you. You know more about me than a lot of othersss now. I jussst want thisss to be a two way ssstreet."

Telly sighed and released Alastor's hand, but spread his arms, offering a hug. "I want you in my life, Alassstor-- or unlife, I guesssss?-- But I don't want to be the only one that givessss thingssss."

Alastor

He wasn’t upset at an *honest answer*, he was upset at being wildly misunderstood. He didn’t *assume* Telly wanted him to leave, he read the very overt body language. And he *did* explain why Telly was wrong—as soon as Telly asked.

But any correction would be taken as an argument, so he held his tongue. “I did just trust you.”

He did not want a hug. If he didn’t accept it, Telly would interpret it as a rejection of *him.* He leaned into the hug.

Sir Pentious

The hug was stiff. Too stiff. He'd hugged Alastor a few times before this and they all felt vastly different now. Telly's tongue stuck out again, and he pulled back, looking at him.

"I've done sssomething, haven't I? I've sssaid ssssomething wrong." He shrunk back a little and stared at the ground.

"I'm sssorry. I didn't mean to upssset you. I'm.....I'm not good at thisss am I?" He sighed and looked over at him. "You did trussst me and I wasss too dumb to ssssee it. I'm sssorry."

Alastor

Figured that out now, did he? Alastor thought that should have been obvious around the “Dr. Freud” quip.

“Oh, don’t call yourself *dumb*. I don’t want to hear you putting yourself down on my behalf.” He offered a wide smile. (You want to see Alastor with a mask? *There’s* Alastor with a mask.) “Come now! You’re the smartest man I know.”

Sir Pentious

Telly made a face and sat up taller. "I WASSS DUMB, ABOUT THAT. I DIDN'T LISSSSSTEN RIGHT. I MAY BE SSSSMART IN SSSOME THINGSSS BUT I'M DUMB IN OTHERSSSS! I KNOW THAT ABOUT MYSSSSELF!"

He huffed again, crossing his arms once more. Then his face fell a little, and he sighed. "I don't want to fight. I'm sssorry. We're sssuposssed to be out here, having a nice time, and I ruined it. I'm sssorry that I didn't undersssstand better. Will you forgive me, Alassstor?"

He didn't offer a hug or even a hand this time, but he did lean against his coils a little closer. "I jussst want to underssstand you, but then I sssay the wrong thing. Maybe...you could tell me, if I sssay the wrong thing? If I asssume wrongly, basssed on what I know of my universsse'sss you? I want you to correct me, Alassstor. If I get ssssomething wrong, I want to be told what isss correct." He sighed again. "I don't even know if that'sss the right thing to sssay either. Why are wordssss so difficult? Why can't we jusssst beam our intentionsss right into other'sss mindsss? Maybe that'sss sssomething I ssshould work on...."

Alastor

Alastor’s smile flattened a little. “I did tell you that you assumed wrongly.”

Usually Alastor would be *thrilled* at the thought of Sir Pentious working on another new invention—but under the context, he couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to pump him for information on how this one would work. “If you do come up with a telepathy machine, let me know about it.”

Sir Pentious

Telly tried to replay the conversation in his his head-- how had they gotten here? How could he fix this? Alastor was upset with him, but he couldn't figure out how to make things right.

"Yesss, you did. I jussst..." His face fell more and he shrugged. "I don't know what to do, Alassstor. I don't know how to make thissss right. I'm sssorry I didn't lisssten right. I'm sssorry I didn't notice how you were trusssting me and trying to open up." He almost started chewing on his lip, but stopped himself before he did. Now his crossed arms seemed more holding himself than defensive.

"I ruined it, and I'm ssssorry. We were having a nice time and then it ssstopped being nice, and now you're--" He stopped short. He was assuming again, but wasn't he right this time? Alastor _was_ upset, wasn't he?

"Maybe I ssshould sssstop talking now. I don't want to upssset you. I jusssst...." He didn't even know what to say now. Did he ever? He sighed again and looked at the sea serpent. "I'm ssssorry...."

Alastor

“Please stop apologizing.” Every apology felt like it was trying to strangle him. “I got it. You covered it with the first one.”

He glanced at the serpent again too. “Well. I think we’ve seen this sight.” He gestured back toward the path they took through the island.

Sir Pentious

"Right, yesss, I'm--" He cut himself off again, and simply nodded.

"We have. We sssshould return. That would be good." Telly still held himself, even as he started slithering back across the island.

"Do you want to ssswim back with me, or....?"

Alastor

He started trudging alongside Telly.

And then stopped. No. He didn’t want to.

If he didn’t, he’d probably ruin things permanently. He knew he’d regret that later. “Fine.” He resumed trudging.

Sir Pentious

"You don't have to, Alassstor. I'm not going to force you...." He sighed and kept looking anywhere but Alastor.

Alastor

“I said fine.” He didn’t want to have to regret running away again.

Sir Pentious

Telly's quiet for a few moments and then: "Okay."

He stays quiet then until they reach the other side of the island, and then he finally looks at Alastor, offering a hand to help him onto his tail.

Alastor

He also remained silent, but for the ever-present static around him and the noise of a needle skipping as he mentally replayed the conversation, turning it over in his head, searching for the point where it went sour. The static grew louder as his mood grew darker.

By the time Telly offered his hand, instead of taking it, Alastor rounded on him angrily. “You don’t get to accuse me of being a bad interviewee when *you* weren’t even an interviewer! You got hacked off at me for not answering your questions *before you asked me any!* When you asked, *I answered!* I *answer* you! I *want* you to know about me! But after asking a hundred questions about you, I try to offer you *one* tiny little detail about who I am, and—and instead of following up on that, you give me some cookie-cutter ‘you’re scared to open up’ therapist babble like you have me all figured out and then blame me when I don’t conform to it! Go on, tell me more about how I play with people’s fear to keep them from getting close to me! *I hate their fear.* I *hate* that all of Hell is too afraid to make eye contact! I’m a God damned *talk show host,* everyone is supposed to *love* me—“

He cut himself off. Turned away, clasped his hands behind his stiff back, stalked up the shoreline.

Sir Pentious

His hand instantly retracted when Alastor started yelling at him-- _Alastor_ yelling at _him_. Not the other way around. That was something new. Wide pink-red eyes blink at him, and he tries to make sure to catch every word-- this was _important._ He knew that much.

And then he stopped, and started to stalk away, and no, no, that wasn't going to happen. Telly surged after him, slithering fast across the sand to round in front of him and cut him off.

"Alastor! Wait, wait-- Give me a moment, pleassse!" He was breathing fast as he took as short a time as possible to continue processing everything Alastor said. And then he took a big, deep breath.

"You're right. You said to stop apologizing, but I must one more time: I'm sorry. I assumed I knew everything, and didn't stop to think. And, well..." He swallowed and then put his hands, gingerly, on Alastor's shoulders. He made sure to look him right in the eyes.

"I don't fear you. I don't. People mock me, and I hate that, but I never stopped to think about how everyone pissing themselves when you walk in a room must feel-- how that must be horrible, when literally everyone runs at the mere sight of you, or your name. But I want you to know that I don't.

"I understand if you're still angry with me, or will continue to be for a while, but I want you to know that I still want to be your friend and maybe I....just need to be a better interviewer?" He let out a hollow chuckle. "Maybe I can take some lessons from the best one around...."

Alastor

Dammit, don't follow him, he didn't want to continue. He shouldn't have said as much as he had. He hated breaking character, he didn't feel like himself. He tensed when Telly grabbed his shoulders, stared straight through him when he tried to make eye contact.

But when Telly finished and Alastor had a chance to pull back, instead he closed the distance, pulled Telly into a hug, and crushed his face into Telly's shoulder.

Sir Pentious

Telly was a little surprised at the hug-- he'd been expecting more storming off. But perhaps he needed to stop assuming that he knew what Alastor would do, and more importantly, what he felt.

His arms closed around him, holding Alastor just as tightly as Alastor held him. Telly's eyes (on his face) closed, and one of his hands cradled the back of Alastor's head, carding through his hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

Alastor

"Good," he croaked. "I don't want you to fear me." There was the subtlest extra emphasis on the word *you.*

Sir Pentious

His tail moves, slowly coiling around the two of them, like Telly wanted to cocoon them together. "I don't. I swear, I don't."

His claws continued to card through his hair, giving little scratches to his scalp, too. "What _is_ it like? Having everyone so scared of you all the time?"

Alastor

This was far too intimate and he was far too naked, both physically and emotionally. He didn't fight it yet, though. He focused on the claws in his hair.

"It's a rush at first. You can get deliriously high off the power fear gives you. But, once the high wears off... No one will look at you, no one will talk to you... no one will sit next to you on the bus... Hah, half the time no one will share the bus with you at all! It can be *useful,* if you *want* a bus to yourself. And sure, you can terrify people into doing anything you want, you can order them to sit in a chair and carry on a conversation with you—but they're never actually listening to what you say. They're just waiting for the first opportunity to run."

He laughed ruefully. "Enough fear will get you anything you want, except for a willing audience—and what's the radio without an audience?" He was rambling, his explanation meandering, spitting out the first things he could think of. What kind of radio host was he? "It's... very isolated."

Sir Pentious

Telly kept up the petting through everything Alastor said, and hummed a bit in consideration.

"Yes, it sounds like it. It sounds, well frankly, terrible. But what about the people in the cannibal colony? They don't fear you like that, do they?" He was going to keep asking questions until either Alastor stopped answering, or he ran out of things to ask.

Alastor

"Most of them don't, no. But they're a... It's quite a traditional, conservative little enclave. They haven't had a fresh thought since 1905. They're impressively Protestant, considering what afterlife they're in—but you'd be amazed just how easily they divorced their religion from their god and kept on practicing it unaltered. They're alarmingly white—and believe you me, there is a way to do that alarmingly. Half the ladies compete over me like a prize whenever I show up. And worst of all... no radios." Faint laughter from the studio audience.

"I tried living there but couldn't last. It's a pleasant place to visit, if you can act like you're one of them—but it *is* an act. After a while it's downright draining. Fit in and you'll find the best acquaintances you could ever ask for, but you won't make friends." He finally pulled back—not pulling *away*, but enough to show his face again. Still smiling, but he looked exhausted. "People are surprised to hear that the colony is so closed-minded—why, what about all the singing and dancing and cannibalism they're so well-known for? I've got no explanation for their musical inclinations; but as for the cannibalism... in my experience, I think most people need a little extra dose of close-mindedness before they can dehumanize a person enough to see them as meat. Either you're just like them, or you're prey. I've got the good fortune to be just like them... except that I'm not, of course."

Sir Pentious

His tongue stuck out again, and his face screwed up, at the description-- something Alastor could clearly see when he pulled back.

"_Traditional. Conservative. Eugh._" He spat out the words like curses, and his tongue stayed out with a soft hiss, before retreating. His hands stayed where they were on Alastor, one curled around his waist, and the other resting now on his shoulder, holding the back of his head. It felt so intimate, this pose, and Telly felt his heart give a painful sort of clenching flutter when he realized it.

But he didn't pull away. It was important that he wasn't the first the pull away here, at least that's what he thought.

"Not to criticize your other friends, but that sounds about as pleasant as everyone running in fear. Either they're too afraid to speak to you, or you have to pretend to be just like the rest when you're not." He huffed, and his eyes narrowed, though not at Alastor-- instead he looked out, thinking.

"I understand the second one much more than the first." His thumb came up to stroke against Alastor's cheek-- a somewhat unconscious action. Telly's coils tightened a tad, but not enough to constrict Alastor-- another unconscious movement, a shielding of the both of them from the world.

"What about Rosie, in particular? Do you have to pretend like that with her, or is it different?"

Alastor

He laughed, what a reaction. *Eugh* indeed. "I imagine you *would* be familiar with the concept—with a family like you had, living when you did. Not to repeat stereotypes about the Victorians, *but*..." He leaned into the touch. Strange to be touched like this.

"Oh, Rosie's different. She's not even human. She chose to make her home in the Cannibal Colony because she decided she liked their little culture, but she's in the same camp as me: the colonists treat her as if she's the exact same as them because she acts enough like one of them. On the one hand, that means she doesn't *buy into* most of our human cultural baggage, which is a plus—but on the other hand, she doesn't really get why these things make a difference to humans at all."

He sighed lightly. "She's one of my dearest friends, and for good reason! But... well, she does witness our human matters as an outsider. That's both a positive and a negative. You're close to an inhuman entity, I'm sure you know what I mean?"

Sir Pentious

"The stereotypes for that are accurate, at least where my family was concerned. A woman for every man, and kids aplenty." He made a face again. Blegh.

"Oh, I didn't know she wasn't human. That's interesting-" He stopped short when Alastor mentioned _him_ being close to an inhuman entity. His face screwed up, and his head tilted as he thought. What did Alastor mean-- Hel, or Hattie? Well, he might as well ask.

"Which inhuman entity are you referring? Hel? Or Hattie? Or is it someone else?"

Alastor

Alastor wrinkled his nose. “A woman for every man, even if you have to drag fourteen-year-olds into it.” He scoffed. “Most people don’t realize she isn’t human! She lives among them, after all—she doesn’t really advertise it. But you can tell. She’s got this air of... *above-it-all*-ness. A little bit maternal, a little bit patronizing.”

Alastor almost answered, stopped, and uncertainly asked, “Is your hat a separate person? I took it as a sort of... psychic extension of you. I *meant* Hel, but...” He made eye contact with the bathing cap. “Er, hello? My, goodness, what must you think of us, spilling our hearts right in front of you like this!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, no, Hattie is...._mostly_ a part of me. But he's also not. It's...odd? I think it might be like you and your microphone." He chuckled a bit. "Though he doesn't talk." A short shrug.

"But, yes, I suppose Hel _is_ nonhuman, but she understands humanity and everything very well. If I didn't know better, I wouldn't have thought her anything other than a fellow human soul." He smiled, a bit wistfully. "For a while, I thought Hel was a pseudonym, until I found out it wasn't."

Alastor

A nod. “Okay, that’s what I though.” He gave the hat another Look, though.

Huff. “Versatile name, Hel—works for people *and* places. Like Georgia.” Surely Georgia was a fitting comparison to the names of underworlds and/or their gods. “I don’t know if I’d have figured out Rosie wasn’t human before she said so, truth be told. But it came up fairly early. But once you *know,* well... it’s plenty obvious.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh yes, the same with Hel. Once you're aware you're in the prescence of the literal Norse Goddess, it's easy to see everything." He chuckled again, and took a breath, smiling.

"Is there anyone else? Other than Rosie that you're close to? I know about Husker and Miss Nifty, but are they friends or just...." He searched for the right word. "...employees?"

Alastor

“Employees. *Less* than employees, really—more like part-time indentured servants. They’re both in my debt. Two of hundreds that are. You can’t be friends with someone with that kind of imbalance.”

Sir Pentious

"I see. Like if I tried to be friends with an Egg Boi, I'd assume." He tilted his head. "Maybe a little different, because the Egg Bois are all sycophantic, and virtually the same."

He purred a little and settled back against his coils, drawing Alastor close with him. "So, no one else? Just Rosie?"

Alastor

“More or less. An Egg Boi with an independent sentient life.”

He tilted his head back and forth. “Mimzy—I don’t know if you know of her. Big movie star, but of course that was after your time. Some of my duplicates, over the years, but it’s hard to be close to *yourself.* A handful of distant, casual friends with shared hobbies. And—“ (he averted his gaze) “—a few others, these past few months. But when you can count a friendship in months, *well...* Anyone can be a friend for a few months and then drift off.”

Sir Pentious

That made his heart give a pang. He didn't want to drift off. He didn't want Alastor to drift off either. Telly hadn't had friends in a long, long time, too, and he didn't want to lose any of them. Would it be strange to tell Alastor that? He wasn't sure, even, now with them talking again, like earlier.

"I don't want to drift off, Alastor. As much as I am prone to secluding myself, I don't want to drift off from you-- or the other friends I've made." He cupped Alastor's face in his hand and stroked his cheek again. "I don't want you to drift off, either. I honestly, truly, want us to stick together."

He took a long, deep breath, and his hand moved down, both arms now just around Alastor's waist, holding him. He suddenly laughed as a thought struck him. "Just don't ever let me cook for you! I'm terribly, can't even make eggs! Though I think the Egg Bois are thankful for that. I always wondered how you're so good at it. I know bits from-- well, my universe's version, but I don't know if it's the same for you. How did you learn to cook so well?"

Alastor

That hand on his face, those words... Something lurched in his chest. It would be so easy to say there was *nothing* he wanted more than to stick together, and then to lean in...

But the hand left Alastor’s face and his trance broke before he could do something incredibly stupid. He dropped his hands to Sir Pentious’s lower back and laced them together. What were they talking about? Focus on the new topic. “Oh—my mother taught me. I’ve kept learning since then, of course—in France, New York, down here—but she gave me the foundation everything else is built on. I suppose the high-and-mighty Tinley family had people to cook for you?” He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Who’s been keeping you fed down here?”

Sir Pentious

Oh, if he could blush, his face would be the reddest thing next to Alastor's hair! He can't believe he was about to admit this, but with such a frank question....

"The Egg Bois..." He can't look at Alastor, oh, this is humiliating to admit. "They.....make me sandwiches, or go out and get me food. When I first got to Hell, though, it was the soirees and parties that my reputation bought me invitations to that kept me fed...."

Alastor

“The *Egg Bois*?” Do you see the horror in Alastor’s eyes. Do you. “Please tell me they’re better in the kitchen than they are in... anywhere else.” Considering that apparently their culinary expertise was limited to *sandwiches,* somehow Alastor doubted it.

Sir Pentious

He can't help the laugh that bubbles up in his throat, and there's a manic sort of tinge to it. "No, they're really not! I can't trust them with a stove or a hot plate. If I want something hot, I have to order something and have them pick it up!"

Oh no, he's full on giggling at the ridiculousness of all this.

Alastor

“Not even just sandwiches—*cold* sandwiches! You can’t so much as get a panini in your own home!” He clapped his hands on Sir Pentious’s shoulders. “*Please* tell me you’re at least ordering from decent restaurants. Not pre-frozen mass-produced fast food rubbish.”

Sir Pentious

Oh that look of shame on his face! If Telly could sink into the ground right now, he would very much like that.

"No, it'sss just whatever ssssoundsss tasssty! And sssometimesss whatever isss cheapessst."

Alastor

Alastor stared up at him. He knew full damn well what *cheapest* meant. “You poor man. Come here.” He wrapped one arm around Telly’s shoulders, cradled the back of his head with the other, and tugged him down to rest his head on Alastor’s shoulder. “You poor, poor man. I know Hell is a punishment, but even at that it’s not supposed to be *that* bad.”

Sir Pentious

Oh, oh, he was being held now. This was nice, even if it was because of his eating habits. His arms tightened around Alastor's waist.

"At times, eating was a lower priority than my ship, or other inventions. Materials cost, after all, and it's not like I'll _die_ if I go without food in Hell or anything..." He's mumbling a bit now, shame taking full hold, overshadowing any of the strange giddiness left.

Alastor

“My good sir, I survived the *Great Depression.* We ate soups made with chopped-up hot dogs. If we wanted a nice salad, we plucked dandelions out of the sidewalk. We made *chocolate cake* with *tomato soup.* But I can *assure* you, it tasted better than the slop they’re selling at the ‘cheapest’ restaurants these days—and I don’t even *like* cake!” He patted Sir Pentious’s back. “You are invited over for lunch *any time* you want. No, you don’t even have to come over! Just yell your order into the nearest radio and I’ll be right over.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, I couldn't, I can't impose like that, I-- I-It'sss fine really--" Annnnd his throat closes, choking on the words. _Really?_ He thinks to himself. _Really, Pentell, THIS is what gets you to cry, after everything that's happened on this beach, it's THIS?_ But he can't help it, the tears come as he presses his face into Alastor's shoulder. His teeth clamp down on his lip to stifle the sobs that wrack his body, and his tail coils tighter, all of his eyes now leaking. He felt blood begin to drip from his mouth, fangs having pierced all the way through, and that landed on Alastor as well.

Alastor

Hello, what? For a second he was paralyzed by shock and the sickening feeling that he’d just royally screwed up. And then he launched into soothing Telly—hugging him tighter, playing a soft song, murmuring, “Hey, it’s all right. I’ve got you. It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” and other reassuring sweet nothing.

After a moment, he self-consciously said, “Oh, *boy* do I hope that these are tears of joy because you’ve got someone to cook for you now.”

Sir Pentious

The sobbing takes up his entire mind for a good while, and the soothing does help somewhat. He unlocks his jaw and starts taking breaths through there, slow and deep, trying to make sure he didn't start hyperventilating.

"I-I'm sssso sssorry, Alassstor," He muttered when he'd gotten back some sembelence of control. He hiccuped softly, and it turned into a manic sort of giggle. "I d-don't know what came over me. I....I h-honessstly don't."

Telly sniffled and pulled back, just enough to wipe as his face with a hand. "I....." He swallowed thickly, trying to piece together what he was feeling. "I think it's hard for me to understand that....that people can _care_ about me? And I think, hearing that offer, I realized that you do....care about me...and the dam just....broke."

Telly shrugged weakly, tears still leaking down his face faster than he could wipe them away. "I'm sorry if I frightened or worried you...."

Alastor

When Alastor saw Telly’s face, he sucked a sharp staticky breath in. Without thinking, he reached up to cradle Telly’s face in one hand, and with his thumb carefully wiped a trickle of blood away from Telly’s lip. “I’m sorry I set you off like that,” he said quietly. “Well—if the dam’s broken, that means there won’t be another flood, right? I don’t have to worry about making you sob all over yourself if I offer to do you a favor in the future?”

Sir Pentious

"Depends on if the dam gets repaired, I think." He chuckled hollowly. When he realized he was bleeding he winced.

"Shit. I bit myself. Over a hundred years and I still forget about my fangs, damn it all..." He huffed and sank down lower, laying his head on Alastor's shoulder again.

"I think that if you do continue to offer me favors, I'll end up getting used to it, and these kinds of reactions will abate..." He took another deep breath. "At least I hope they do, I don't want to burst into tears at the drop of a hat. It's so messy."

Alastor

He wrapped his arms around Sir Pentious again. And surreptitiously licked the blood off his thumb.

“I’m going to have to start carrying around water bottles if they don’t.” Moderate laughter from the studio audience. “Is there a way for me to—I don’t know—care less caringly? For the sake of your copious tear ducts?”

Sir Pentious

He laughed too, along with the audience, and shook his head a little. "I don't know. I'm not sure what it is about the caring that actually...._makes_ me cry. But if you find a method, please feel free to try it out."

Telly took another long, deep breath, and his tears stopped fully. "I think I'm okay now..."

Alastor

“Good.” He didn’t let go just yet, though. “We should probably get you back to shore. Unless you can drink saltwater, you’re going to be dehydrated as all hell.”

Sir Pentious

He didn't let go either, in fact, he would've liked to stay like that for a long time. But it was probably past time they headed back anyway.

"You're right. I'll need water after that, and unfortunately, I can't drink salt water." He laughed.

Alastor

“Pity.” He slowly, reluctantly let go. “Shall we, then? Before you shrivel up like a remarkably long prune?”

Sir Pentious

Telly, equally as reluctant, pulled back, but let his hand slide down to take Alastor's. He smiled, softly and warmly, at him.

"Ready to climb back on?"

Alastor

Once they’d separated, it *just* began to dawn on Alastor how long and uncomplainingly they’d been wrapped around each other—when he was reminded that they were about to have to do it again. “*Right.* Yes. Ready when you are.”

Sir Pentious

"Up you come then, Alastor." He tugged on his hand to help him up onto his back.

Alastor

He barely needed the encouragement. He was being invited, it wouldn’t be weird for him to latch on, hurry up and don’t think about it.

Sir Pentious

Telly gave a little purr when Alastor climbed back on, and once again, he made sure his hands were secure around his waist before he started moving. He slithered toward the water, his hand covering Alastors, just as before.

Alastor

This time, he didn’t hesitate to latch on tightly.

Sir Pentious

Telly slithered out onto the water, and looked over his shoulder. "On three. One. Two. Three!" And with a big inhale, he dived under, swimming back towards the mansion island. He breached back up only a short distance from the shore, and Telly gasped for breath.

Alastor

On the return trip, Alastor didn’t even bother trying to watch the scenery going by. He just kept his eyes shut and clung, his cheek to Telly’s back. This was only going to last a couple more minutes. Enjoy it while it’s happening.

And then they surfaced. He let out a long sigh, let go, and treaded water. “Thanks for the speedy ride!” He was never going to mention that he could have teleported himself back and forth.

Sir Pentious

"Of course, thank you for sailing SS Telly!" He laughed, and took Alastor's hand again, dragging him with him as he swam the rest of the way to shore. He stopped there on the sand and considered the mansion.

"It would be rude to go inside soaking wet....."

Alastor

Okay. *One* more touch. He freed his hand so that he could fling his arm around Telly’s shoulders. “Shall I?” He held up his other hand, fingers positioned to snap.

Sir Pentious

He smiled at the arm around him, and nodded. "Please, if you would, Mes. Alastor!" He laughed and winked.

Alastor

Snap. They’re now both dry. Enjoy the sensation of every drop of water simultaneously yeeting itself away.

Sir Pentious

He shivered all over at that, what a strange feeling! But then he grinned. "Shall we, then?" He asked, gesturing towards the the mansion. He really was starting to feel exceptionally thirsty.

Alastor

He let go, but said, “Hold on a moment. I wanted to say that, uh... For a bit there, back on the island... Well, that wasn’t exactly in character for me—at least, not the character that I try to play—so—I—wanted to apologize. I might be a violent man, but I try not to have a violent temper.”

Sir Pentious

He took turned and took both of Alastor's hands. "It's fine, Alastor. I'm glad it happened, because it helped me understand more about you and see what I had done wrong, and it will help me keep from making a mistake like that in the future. The last thing I want to do is misunderstand you."

Telly squeezed both his hands and smiled, before releasing them. "Do you want to come get that water with me, or...shall we say goodbye for now, here?"

Alastor

“It shouldn’t have happened like *that.* I could have handled it more gracefully. I want you to understand me, too, and that’s not going to happen if I’m so hacked off you’re afraid to talk to me!” He glanced away with a self-conscious grin. “I’m not used to being *afraid* that I won’t be understood.”

He returned the squeeze before Telly let go. “I’ll come along. I oughta head to the kitchen with you, anyway. I need to get a list of what kind of food you like.”

Sir Pentious

His eyes widened, but he smiled and nodded. "Right, yes, that-- yes, we should do that."

He turned to head inside, overall, feeling much better about the whole trip.

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 3

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 8.8k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: none for this chapter?? other than a boatload of angst and feelings and ahhhh holy shit wtf is going on

thank you all for being patient! ^^ I had a couple hiccups while writing this part, but thankfully I think everything is heading in the right direction now hehe~ hope you enjoy!

“I think we should go out there, and I should kiss you senseless, sweetheart.”

You stare at Namjoon, trying to calm your racing heart. He’s joking, right? He has got to be joking. Doling out kissing privileges is what got you into this mess in the first place. Stirring more jealousy into the pot probably won’t help things.

It takes a count of three before he laughs. “I’m kidding. Obviously.”

You squint at him. He didn’t sound like he was kidding. You glance down to button his jacket around you and notice that there’s a prominent tent in his pants.

Oh...

You smirk. “You sure you didn’t have any ulterior motives for that plan, Master Kim?” You tease him with the title and are pleased to see his cheeks flush when your head inclines ever so slightly towards his lap.

He coughs, clears his throat, straightens his tie. “Of course not.”

You can’t contain the grin on your face. “Really? Not a single, rock hard, reason?”

He readjusts his position, crossing his legs to hide the evidence of his arousal. “Nope.”

You laugh, and catch him grinning too.

“Okay, so maybe... it wasn’t the most objective plan,” he admits with a chuckle. If he’s trying to cheer you up, it’s working. You start to giggle and have to hold your sides as the laughter spills out, quickly turning delirious. A boner is such a preposterous thing to pretend to hide for the sake of manners when it’s your job to sexually satisfy them. Something about it just tickles an exhausted funny bone in you. “Sorry-” You burst into another fit of giggles, trying to catch your breath.

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon says, his eyes smiling as few laughs slip out of him as well. He pets your hair while you catch your breath, his hand falling to your cheek, his eyes tender. “You look so sweet when you laugh.”

Your heart flutters. Kim Namjoon has the charm and charisma of a diplomat, but the kindness and consideration of a humanitarian. You don’t know how he manages to balance his professionalism with his personability, but he sure as hell manages it somehow. Your hand slips onto his knee and his thumb brushes your cheek, laughter still on the tips of your tongues. You feel like you're two kids on prom night, that same sort of silly sexual tension lingering between you.

He leans in, and your heart stops for a second, but his lips merely graze your forehead. He pulls back, his gaze clouded with something you can’t quite identify. “If you ever decide to add kissing to your list of services,” he says quietly, his gaze traveling over your face and down to your lips. “I’d like to be the first to know.”

You swallow. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you aren’t tempted to add it today, right now in fact, and plant one on him. But that would defeat the whole purpose of this discussion, so you somehow manage to resist the temptation.

His hand finds its way to your thigh, his eyes swirling with that indiscernible emotion, and you have to wonder if you're not the only one having to restrain yourself here.

"You'll be the first," you answer quietly, trapped under his mesmerizing gaze.

After a few agonizing moments of silence, he nods almost imperceptibly and pulls back with a smile, his hand retreating from your leg.

“Honestly,” he says, folding his hands in his lap. “I think the best solution is to talk it out with them.” It takes you a moment to realize he's returned to the matter at hand, talk of kissing you seemingly forgotten. “If you want me there, I’d be more than happy to mediate,” he offers, giving you a sidelong glance. “But if that doesn’t work, then maybe they’re not mature enough for the privilege of having you as a PhysCom.”

He shrugs, his tone and expression practical and professional. “I would recommend a suspension of your services for a few days. Remind them how much they really appreciate the work you do.”

You laugh at this option. “You want me to blue ball them?”

He chuckles wryly. “Well… consider it like discipline. If a kid isn’t treating their toys with respect, what do you do? You take away the toy and give them time to think about what they did.”

You look at him askance, surprised by his wisdom on the topic. “Since when did you know so much about raising kids?”

“I read a lot,” he replies cheekily.  “Anyway, we’d better get back out there before they start to speculate.” Namjoon stands, offering you a hand.

You take it, stand up, and start to shed his jacket, but he stops you. “Keep it on. It’s alright.” He moves the fabric back over your shoulders, his fingertips brushing your skin.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes meet his, and you can feel the tension in his gaze, ready to snap from the slightest tug.

He meets your eyes without hesitation. “I’m positive.” His gaze lingers on your lips again, and his hand brushes up from the jacket's collar to cup your neck. His thumb brushes softly along your jaw before he seems to remember himself. He pulls away with noticeable reluctance and goes to open the door. “Ladies first.”

You snort. “I’m not exactly a lady,” you reply, looking down at your nearly naked form, but you don’t argue with him and take the lead. He follows you out, shutting the door behind him.

------

The scene you return to in the dining room is unexpected. The dim, sensual lighting has been ruined by the regular lamps turned on in the corners of the room. Butlers and maids are cleaning up the table, and you count three less clients milling around than before.

It would seem the banquet is over.

"What happened?" You ask, hurrying over to Seokjin. "Where is everyone?"

He sighs and flashes you a weary smile. "I had to send Taehyung and Jimin to their rooms. They were... getting out of hand."

Yoongi snorts from across the table. "That's an understatement. Nearly started brawling. Don't know what the hell got into them."

Seokjin shoots him a warning glace. “Anyway, I thought it would be best to wrap things up for the evening.”

Your gaze darts around, checking who's still here. Jungkook, Yoongi, Seokjin, Namjoon, and... Hoseok? He's missing. "What about Master Jung?"

Yoongi's smirk fades and he looks down. "He said he wasn't feeling well. Asked to be excused."

Your stomach sinks. This is definitely your fault. Fuck, poor Hoseok. He’d been the one fucking you when you called your safe word, and you’d hate for him to think it was because of something he did. You want to run and go talk things out with him - with all of them, per Namjoon's suggestion, but your eyes catch on Jin again. His face is cast downward, a small frown on his face as he rolls a rose stem between his fingers forlornly.

You feel impossibly worse. Everything’s gone wrong. This was supposed to be his night to have you however he wants, and now the party's over before he even got to fuck you.

"Master Kim." You walk up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling his attention away from the flower. "We can… take things back to your suite, if you wish." You look up at him sweetly, hoping you can at least try to make things right.

Jin shakes his head with a thin smile. "No, pet. You've been through enough tonight." He pets your hair and heaves another sigh. “You should get some rest.”

You look down to his pants and see a tent there similar to Namjoon’s. You touch his chest, sliding your hand down his stomach and towards his crotch. “But you-”

“No.” He takes a hold of your wrist before you can make contact where he needs it most. He takes a moment to breathe, the conflict of his wants and needs clear on his face. “No, you need some rest, my pet. It’s been a very busy evening.” He brings your hand up and holds it against his cheek instead. “You shouldn’t tax yourself.”

Your heart feels like it’s sunk below the floorboards, and you can’t keep the worry out of your eyes. None of them have ever turned you down like this before. Not when they’re hard. Not when this is your job.

“Master, I’m fine to do it, honestly. Besides... I can’t just leave you like this.” You say meaningfully, knowing that he would get in trouble if he takes care of the problem himself. He seems like he’s about to assure you when Yoongi pipes up again.

“Don’t worry about him. Another slut will take care of it tonight.”

What?

Seokjin’s jaw twitches and you sense he’s restraining himself from saying something. Did they talk about this while you were gone? “He’s right, darling.”

What the fuck.

“That’s what they’re there for, after all.”

What the fuck is happening.

“Don’t worry about me, just get some beauty sleep.”

What the actual fuck?

“You’ll feel better in the morning.” 

You wrench yourself out of Jin’s grasp, unable to believe what you’re hearing. Your head is spinning, lungs suddenly short of breath. This can’t be happening. Your career, your livelihood, their favoritism… all gone in one night. It’s only a matter of time now. The more they play with the other PhysComs - the fucking Secondaries - the less special you are in their eyes.

In one evening, you’ve become… exchangeable.

You grip the edge of the table, hands shaking as you start to see red.

“Darling?” Seokjin places a hand on your back, his eyes wide with concern. “Do you need some water? Some air?” 

You jerk away from him, your despair turning to rage. “I’m not some fucking flower! Okay? I said I’m fine!”

Jin looks startled. Namjoon comes over, his voice soothing. "Everything's alright, sweetheart. Let's get you to bed, okay?"

You wrench away from him too, stumbling back. "No! It's not fucking alright!" A heavy silence follows your outburst. All you can hear is your own labored breath. All their eyes are on you, wide with concern, and fear, and… pity.

You can't stand it, can't stand the way they're looking at you. Like their fuck toy is malfunctioning… You turn on your heel and dash out of the room, knocking into Jungkook in your haste. You push him aside, but not before your eyes meet and he can see the tears streaming down your cheeks.

You ignore them as they call after you, and you escape to your room for the second time that day.

-------

As you slam your door shut, you run over and flop onto the bed to cry into your pillow. Dramatic? Sure. Do you care? Not particularly. It’s not like anyone’s here to judge you and your pity party anyway.

Fuck, this is all wrong. How could things have gone so wrong so quickly?

This whole day has been a complete and utter mess, from the moment Taehyung had tried to kiss you. Or… maybe from the moment you let it happen.

You squeeze your eyes shut, replaying every agonizing moment up until now. The kissing, the feelings, the tension at dinner, the moment you broke... fuck, that one hurt.

But being replaced... that hurts even more.

You sob for a good long while, not caring if anyone could hear you. You just need to get it out, god you haven’t cried in so long. Once it’s out of your system, you’ll be back to normal, ready to fuck at a moment’s notice like always.

But then again, you’ve only been employed for six months. Is this just what happens after a while? Do PhysComs just… break? Is that why the job has such a high turnover?

Well, if that’s the case, then you’re screwed. You might as well start begging on the street now. Sure the money you’ve earned so far is enough to float you through for a little while, but without another job to replace this one, it won’t last for very long.

Being a PhysCom is everything you’ve trained for, everything you’ve ever wanted. Without it, you’re nothing. You have no identity outside of your training, no skill set outside of pleasuring others, no prospects… no hope.

Would your family take you back in?

You know the answer immediately. No, no they wouldn’t. Not after what you did to them.

You have no friends aside from the other people you trained with, but you’ve long since lost contact with them, any ties to them were cut once you were hired and shipped off here.

Could you get another job? Highly unlikely.

Once someone becomes a PhysCom, the position is recorded on their government file, branding them for life as a personal sex worker. Random day jobs don’t hire people who were previously fuck toys, it reflects badly on their brand. New employers for PhysComs scrutinize previous positions mercilessly. Any criticism or stain on your performance record will put you out of the running in favor of someone just out of training. No one wants to take leftovers when there’s so much fresh meat on the market.

You have no plan B. Your life is ruined, crumbling apart before your very eyes.

Your ComGear buzzes incessantly, but you ignore it. They can message you all you want, you’re done for today. If they want to get off so badly, they can go find some Secondaries. Clearly, that’s the best solution while you’re here agonizing over your career and ‘getting some beauty sleep’, as Seokijn put it. Ugh.

Now would be the perfect time to masturbate and relieve some of this anger and stress. If only you could actually orgasm.

It’s only then that you see the envelope sitting at the bottom of your door. You hadn’t noticed it before, someone must have slipped it inside at some point.

You crawl off your bed with a sniff, your eyes still puffy from crying so much. It’s a small yellow envelope with your name on it. You open it, unfolding a piece of paper, creased in half to fit inside.

I’m sorry things got out of hand. I hope you can forgive me. - Hoseok ♡

The fact that he sent you a note instead of a text makes your heart feel funny. God, the world doesn’t deserve someone as good as Hoseok.

That’s it. Fuck your beauty sleep. You’ve made up your mind. You’re going to set at least one thing right from this trainwreck of an evening, and you won’t sleep until you do.

You throw on a bathrobe and peek out into the hallway outside your room, but thankfully you see no one. It doesn’t take you long to tiptoe to Hoseok’s room, and before long, you’re knocking softly on his door, the note clutched in your hand.

There’s no answer, and you worry for a moment that he might have already gone to bed. But soon the door creaks open, and Hoseok peers out. He looks awful, hair a wreck, dress shirt rumpled with a few buttons undone, and his eyes are puffy. Had he been crying, too?

“Oh,” He looks both panicked and relieved to see you. “Hi... um, listen about earlier-”

You shake your head and give him a half-smile, holding up the note as evidence. “You already apologized.”

“No, but I-” He stops, sighs, and opens his door all the way, rubbing the back of his neck. “Here, come inside. I want to talk to you.”

“Me too.” You fold your arms around yourself and go in, looking at him imploringly as he shuts the door behind you. “Master Jung, I didn’t use my safe word tonight because of anything you did. I want you to know that.”

He shakes his head, showing you a sad smile. “You don’t have to lie to me. I was the only one doing anything to you.”

Your eyebrows knit together in concern. Fuck. He does blame himself.

“Honestly, I was just… distracted. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently, so I wasn’t-”

“That’s exactly the problem.” He interrupts you with a stormy expression, and your eyes widen. He huffs. “I wasn’t considering your feelings.”

You blink in surprise. Your what now?

“I just… didn’t question Jin-hyung’s orders. Even though Jimin was reluctant to do it. I should’ve realized something wasn’t right, that you weren’t feeling up to it. I shouldn’t have let my dick do the thinking.” He looks to the floor, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’m really sorry.”

Your mouth hangs agape. He’s talking as if this is about your whims. As if you have a say in the work you’ve already signed up for, as stated by your contract. Like having sex is negotiable.

“Hoseok…” You say his name without thinking, and his wide-eyed gaze snaps up to meet yours. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here.”

He nods. “Yeah, there is. A big fucking misunderstanding,” he laughs ruefully. “I misunderstood your place here with us. I realized tonight that… I had started seeing you as just a sex toy.”

You simply state the truth. “But that’s what I am.”

“No! You’re not!” You flinch as he shouts, his hands flying into the air. He grabs you by the arms, his eyes full of despair and regret. “You’re a human being, with thoughts and emotions and…” He realizes that he’s gripping you and hastily releases his hold. “Sorry.” He murmurs, sighing as he goes to sit down on his bed, head in his hands.

You’re a little shaken up by his passion. Why does he suddenly care about your thoughts and emotions? He should care about your feelings about as much as he cares about the feelings of their toaster oven. By the industries standards, you’re a fuck doll, nothing more. You’re not even supposed to have feelings, at least not when you’re on the job.

But… technically, right now… you’re done for the day. Off the clock.

You feel bad letting him stew in his little pit of blame, and you join him on the bed, sitting beside him. “It’s not your fault,” you reiterate. “If I really wasn’t feeling up to it, I should have taken the evening off."

Although you would never willingly do such a thing, it’s not uncommon for three or four PhysComs to be on the job for a group simultaneously, in case any of them are under the weather, or too tired to perform well.

Yours is a unique case, tackling all seven members’ pleasure single-handedly. You wouldn’t have been permitted to take on such a challenge had you not received such glowing reviews from your trainers. You’ve finally achieved what you had been working towards all that time.

Of course, now you might be at risk of losing everything.

“It was all a… stupid accident.” You might be thinking of more than just what happened at dinner, but Hoseok doesn’t need to know that.

He glances at you, still looking remorseful.

You get an idea. Why not play to your strengths? It can only benefit you to remind as many members as possible why you’re their Primary.

“You know, they say the best way to get over an accident… is to get back in the saddle.” You murmur, reaching your fingers out to graze his thigh. “Do you want to have a do-over, cowboy?”

His expression grows more concerned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Fuck no. But you’re not sure of anything recently. “It can’t hurt, right?”

Hoseok looks conflicted. He doesn’t take your hand off his leg, but you aren’t about to advance further without confirmation. He studies your face, searching for something. “Do you even want to?”

You blink. Why is everyone suddenly asking for your consent? It’s implied. You signed a contract. That’s like asking to eat the food on your plate. “It doesn’t matter what I want, master.”

“Well, it matters to me.” His voice wavers as he reaches up to touch your cheek. “Your feelings matter to me. I don’t want to think of you as some mindless sex doll, because you’re not.”

His unexpected words strike right through your heart, leaving you raw and vulnerable.

“You may act like one, but you’re not. You’re a person.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you, and I don’t ever want you to be uncomfortable again.”

You stare at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. What the hell is he saying?

“Starting now, I will never have sex with you unless you want to, okay? That’s a promise.” His eyes are like melted caramel, soft and warm and sweet, as he leans closer and starts kissing your neck. His lips are soft, apologetic. Whispering praises and apologies while his hand caresses your waist.

The stutter in your heartbeat means nothing. His words mean nothing. They don’t make any sense. Your pleasure doesn’t factor into the equation.

He can’t just do this, can’t just treat you like he cares about more than your body. He can’t cater to your deepest fantasies like this. It’s cruel.

“Hoseok,” your breath catches as he nips gently at your neck. “Master Jung-”

“I like Hoseok better. Or Hobi…” he murmurs, pulling the collar of your bathrobe aside to trail kisses along your shoulder.

“Hoseok,” you try again, a little more strength in your tone, despite how weak you feel with his lips on you like this. “This isn’t right.”

“Do you want me to stop? I will,” he says, lips hovering just above your skin.

No. No, you don’t want him to stop, says a part of your brain, the part that’s been dreaming about situations like this. Being held, being kissed, being loved… But the rest of your brain knows that you can’t risk it.

“You can do whatever you want to me. That’s the point,” you reply feebly. You’re not sure how else to get your message across, since he seems to have batted away your usual arguments. “I exist for your pleasure.”

“Well, what if I exist for yours, hm?” He smirks, pulling back to look at you. “What if I take care of you when you take care of me?”

Your eyes widen. Reciprocation goes against your entire job description, and besides, it’s pointless. He has to know that he’s breaking the rules, but he doesn’t seem to care at all.

His hand cups your jaw, his thumb running gently along your cheek. “You deserve so much more than being treated like a toy.”

You’re stunned into silence. Everything he’s saying is wrong.

But is it bad? Would it be so bad to let him take care of you, to let him appreciate you, if that’s what he truly wants?

“I exist for your pleasure… whatever form that may take.” You hesitantly reiterate the rules, if for no other reason than to clear your conscience. “If it’s what you want, then go ahead.”

He shakes his head. “Nope, sorry. It has to be something you want.” He smiles and leans closer, his eyes searching your face. “Do you want me, baby? Just be honest. Be yourself tonight.”

God damn it. You try to look away, but he gently turns your cheek back to face him. You can’t resist him. He gives you a warmth you haven’t known in ages, filling up every crack and crevice in your heart, and you desperately miss it, aching for the sensation of being wanted by someone… of being worthy.

Your willpower is dwindling. You can feel your breaking point approaching. Fuck it, if they might replace you anyway, what’s the worst that could happen?

You close your eyes, steeling yourself to let your walls down and to keep them down, at least for this little while. You inhale deeply, almost holding your breath.

“I want you, Hoseok.”

The truth comes out as merely a whisper, but once you start you can’t stop, the dam already broken. “I want you, god I want you so much, I-”

Soft lips cover your own. Oh… he’s tender and passionate all at once. His hands are greedy, unable to get enough of you, and yet they’re reverent, considerate, floating over your body and touching your face like you’re something important. Like you’re special to him.

It goes against every fiber of your being, every hour of your years of training, but fuck… it feels so good to be able to kiss him like this, with no inhibitions. He pulls you onto his lap, deepening the kiss as his hands grip your ass, pushing up the hem of your robe to really feel you.

You forget, in this moment, that he’s your client, and you wind your hands up and around the back of his neck, playing with his hair and humming into his sweet, soft lips. Everything about Hoseok feels warm, and sweet, and right. Shit, why does this feel so right?

“Good girl…” His tongue slips into your mouth and starts teasing yours, licking into your wet cavern while his hands wander over your body. He peels off your robe, slowly exposing your skin to his blissful hands and they rub and trace every curve and contour.

You can feel the smile on his lips as he glides his hands up your body. One stays on your ass, kneading the soft flesh while his other comes up to ghost over your breast, his thumb circling over your nipple with a languid motion. He’s in no rush. This isn’t a quick fuck, this is… something else, and the thrill of the unknown has you leaning into his touch, desperate to discover more.

He breaks away from your lips for air, leaning down to mouth at your other tit instead, causing you to whimper. “You’re so beautiful…” he murmurs, sucking on the sensitive bud while his hand gropes at the other side, pinching and rolling your nipple in his fingers.

You gasp at the blissful sensation, but a looming sense of dread grows as he continues, as you know his hard work won’t lead anywhere, and soon will follow the inevitable frustration of not being able to climax. The first cloud on the spotless horizon of your little tryst. 

“Hoseok…” you moan his name, rolling your hips into his lap, where you can feel his cock through his pants. “Let me do you now.” 

“Tonight’s not about me,” He doesn’t let up on his barrage of pleasure, smirking against your skin. “When was the last time you came, sweetness?”

You swallow. Shit, this wasn’t a good idea, was it?

“I… I can’t wait. Fuck me now, please...” You whine the excuse, grinding your bare pussy against his crotch. You remember what he said about doing what you desire. “I want you to fuck me, please…” Your voice drips with a very real desperation as your pleasure starts to reach its plateau.

He pulls back and chuckles. “Already? You sure you don’t want me to eat out that pretty pussy of yours? I could make you feel so good…” His tongue darts out to trace around his lips, and he slips the hand from your ass around to your front, testing how wet you are. “Fuck, I want to taste you so badly. Make you cum on my tongue, baby.”

You shake your head involuntarily, eyes wide and your cheeks turning red.

Heoseok smirks, mistaking your worry for shyness. “Aww, baby…” He kisses you again, rocking his hips up to meet yours. “It’s okay. I know this must be a big change for you.” He chuckles and scoots himself back onto the bed with you still in his lap, and you move to straddle him. “We can work up to it next time, okay?”

Next time?

You don’t have time to worry about such a troublesome prospect, as Hoseok wastes no time, fishing his cock out of his pants and lining himself up with your entrance, still fully clothed. “You ready, baby?” He leans in to kiss you again, and when you nod, he pushes slowly inside you. Hoseok’s cock is long and lithe, just like him, and it’s always able to reach your farthest corners. His stamina is also through the roof, probably from all that dancing, and whenever he plays with you, he often leaves you feeling fucked silly by the end of it. You prepare yourself for another such dizzying experience.

“Ah, fuck... “ He takes his time to sheath himself fully inside you, using the moment to feel every crevice of your walls, his cock throbbing from the sensation. You squeeze your walls around him, expecting him to start fucking you roughly any minute.

Instead his hands glide over your back, down to your ass again as he holds you almost supportively. You whine and buck desperately against his hips, but he stills your movement, silencing any complaints with another tongue-filled kiss. He takes his sweet time moving in and out of you, reaching deep inside of you with every thrust as his moans vibrate against your lips, the wet sounds of sex filling the otherwise silent room.

For some reason, your senses are heightened by his slow pace, and it feels even more intense than some of your roughest sessions. Every little twitch and rub of his hard cock into your sopping entrance has tingles of pleasure shivering up your spine, your heart racing even though he’s barely done anything. You arch your back, moaning into his mouth as he hits a particularly good angle.

He notices and adjusts his position, soon finding a lazy, easy pace to slide in and out of you, as if he has all the time in the world, and he wants to spend as much of it joined with you as possible.

“So fucking beautiful…” His voice is hoarse, thickly laced with something you can’t explain. He lays back onto the bed, pulling you with him, chest to chest, and continues to kiss you like he can’t get enough. You start to bounce on his cock, but his hands still grip you firmly at your hips, controlling the pace.

You groan at his agonizing slowness, but it feels so good, you can’t really complain. Shit, why didn’t they ask for this kind of sex more often? It feels incredible, like… like softcore porn. It’s… emotional, and raw, and deep. You feel like he’s touching your very soul with every stroke inside the furthest reaches of your core.

“Fuck, H-Hoseok…” you whimper, each languid push of his body has you trembling, aching for more. What is happening? You’ve never felt this before, this ache, this desire to keep him deep within your walls, forever sharing kisses and sweet touches.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs softly, supporting your back as he pushes even deeper with a groan. “You’re safe with me.”

You shudder and lean into him, and a memory from your training days comes to the surface.

“Never trust your client.” Madame paces in front of the class, her eyes scanning each girls’ face. “They will only betray you in the end.”

This is one of many talks Madame likes to have with her class, explaining not only the official rules, but also the practical ones. The things no one but other PhysComs would think to discuss.

“You are your own representative in their house. An independent contractor. Never let yourself be vulnerable around them.” Madame’s voice is strong and clear, full of intention.

Her eyes fall to your face, her gaze full of burning embers.

“Don’t fall for their guises of kindness.”

You gasp as Hoseok flips you two over, laying you gently onto the bed as he trails kisses up your body between murmured praises. “Fuck, baby… You’re so beautiful...”

You shudder, writhing beneath him as he lines himself up with your entrance again.

“Does it feel good, baby? Tell me.” He smiles brightly and leans down to kiss your neck, clearly pleased with his progress as he rubs his tip through your slick folds, eliciting another whimper from you. “I want to make you feel so good…”

“F-feels…”  Your voice trails off as you come upon a moment of clarity. What are you doing? How did you get into such a predicament? “Hoseok. This isn’t right.”

He stops, pulls back enough to look at you. “What’s not right, baby? I’ll fix it.”

You huff out a laugh, already feeling your stomach start to sink. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks confused. “Because I want to make you feel good.”

“No. No you don’t, because that’s not part of our arrangement,” you explain, looking up at his stunningly handsome face. A part of your heart hurts just looking at him, knowing he can never be yours.

“Well… maybe we can make a new arrangement,” he says quietly, the confidence in his eyes wavering.

You feel bad bringing the harsh truth into this when he’s worked so hard to live out this little fantasy with you, but you must. You can’t stay in this bed, in this daydream, forever. You know from experience, it’s best to rip the bandaid off, make sure he knows that this can’t be seen as anything more than indulgence and a lack of self control on your part.

 “Hobi, you don’t even know my name.” You look at him somberly, and as his face falls, you find yourself wishing the two of you were in a different world, living different lives, where you could let him kiss you and hold you and fuck you like this and not feel guilty about it. Your eyes fall downward, stewing in regret. Fuck, this would’ve hurt a lot less if you hadn’t given in and let him take your heart so easily.

You start to get up from the bed, but strong arms pull you back in, hugging you from behind.

“Hoseok.” Your tone is that of reprimanding a child. You have to be the responsible one here. It’s not his job to make sure you’re following the rules. “I should go.”

“I may not know your name, but I know you.” His voice is tender and soft, like sweet caramel, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “I’ve lived with you for six months, and they’ve been the best time of my life…” He plants soft kisses on your neck. “You make me happy.”

You feel numb. Why is he saying this? Doesn’t he realize how hard he’s making it to rip off this stupid bandaid?

He keeps kissing your skin, his hands skimming over your stomach and thighs. “Please…” he whispers, kissing and nibbling the shell of your ear. “Please stay with me. Just for tonight.”

Fuck. Fuck your weak heart. He can’t do this to you.

“Hobi… there are rules, I can’t just-”

“Forget the rules for a second. Do you want to stay?” He pauses his affection to give you a moment to think, and you find yourself wishing he’d continue.

Well, there’s your answer then. If there were no rules… you’d stay in this bed with him for as long as he’d let you. But you can’t bring yourself to say it. Your tongue, your lips… they won’t move, frozen in fear of the truth buried deep in your heart.

He must be able to sense your inner struggle, because his hands resume caressing and squeezing your body reassuringly. “Either way, I won’t tell anyone what happened, okay? Tonight is off the record.”

It’s those words, those stupid, considerate words, that have your paper-thin resolve crumpling once more.

You turn around in his arms, cup his jaw, and kiss him deeply, fully, your heart racing from the act of rebellion. He makes a small noise of surprise, but quickly reciprocates, a smile tugging at his lips. You exchange sloppy, heated kisses with him for several moments, basking in his natural warmth, before he pulls away.

“So… I’ll take that as a yes?” He smirks, his eyes dancing with playful affection.

You let out a laugh in spite of yourself. “Yes,” you sigh, shoving out all your worries and fears. Despite the warnings of your training days, you trust Hoseok. You have no reason not to do so. He’s shown you nothing but kindness and understanding.

He looks overjoyed at your reply, and kisses your once more, giddy and laughing throughout all of his tender little pecks. “But if you change your mind, you tell me. Alright, princess?” He coos, petting your cheek.

You nod, shy from his shower of affection.

He grins and repositions the two of you so he’s hovering above you again, and starts to unbutton his shirt. “Now, where were we?”

You blush as he exposes his smooth chest and sheds his shirt, tossing it aside. Even though you’ve seen him naked before, this feels more private somehow… almost intimate. Like he’s doing it exclusively for your benefit.

“Mm… we can stay like this all night long.” He leans down and kisses you again, taking your hand and guiding it to his chest, encouraging you to touch him. He then trails his lips down your neck and over your breasts before pausing again. “Oh, and um… do you mind telling me your name, baby?”

You blink in surprise. “Why?”

Hoseok lines himself up with your entrance, slowly starting to fuck you again, and he pulls back enough to look at you. He touches his forehead to yours, a sheepish grin on his face while he slides in and out of you, blissfully filling you up again and again.

“I want to know what name I should be moaning when I cum tonight.”

-------

Sunlight streams through the window, and you roll over to avoid it. You're too wrapped up in fantasies and dreams, and oh… wait, was last night a dream? Your heart sinks. There's no warm body next to yours. No trace of any evidence.

Maybe it’s better this way. It was a delicious dream, and you’ll file it away with the others you’ve had. Your career still needs some damage control, but at least you won’t have to deal with rebuilding your dignity after a night of misdemeanors. 

You prop up on your elbows, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and your heart stops at what you see. Hoseok's room. You're in Hoseok's room.

Well, shit… that's evidence if you ever saw it. Right? But where's Hoseok?

As if summoned by your thoughts, the boy appears from his en-suite bathroom, rubbing a towel through his hair.

The sight makes you inexplicably shy, and you bury back beneath the covers, as if to hide yourself from view. You hear him chuckle.

"Morning, princess."

You hunker down and hide even more, your heart racing. What the hell is wrong with you? You're a professional sex worker. Sex workers do not get shy the morning after.

The covers are lifted from you, revealing your face, and soft lips touch your own before you can object. "I had a great time. Did you?"

You stare up at him, looking like a Greek god in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, the one from his hair now slung around his shoulders. He’s effortlessly sexy and it’s totally unfair.

You pull your knees up to your chest, biting your lip warily. “Hoseok… about last night. What… what was that?”

He looks mildly confused, but still smiles and sits beside you, gently running his hand up and down your leg. “What do you mean?”

You look away from him. He’s too sweet, too bright for the grave clarity and turmoil seeping into your system with the arrival of the morning. “The sex. It felt… different.”

If anything, his grin grows wider. “Really? How so?” If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looks smug right now.

“I don’t know. It was like… you were filling up my whole body, not just my cunt. I felt it all over, inside and outside. It was… really good.” You mumble out the last few words, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s practically beaming now. “Is there a word for that? What do you call that?”

Hoseok’s finger hooks under your chin, gently turning your head to face him. His eyes are warm and sparkling with humor, as if you just made a joke and didn’t realize it.

“I would call that making love,” he says softly, a hint of cheek in his tone.

Your mouth parts in shock as you recognize the truth of his analysis. “Making love?” You echo softly.

He nods with a chuckle and leans in to kiss you, his thumb stroking your cheek. “It’s like sex, but with feelings,” he explains, his eyes full of adoration as he looks at you. “Was it alright?”

It’s only as he asks you this that you realize why it felt so different.

He hadn’t given you a single command last night.

You’d had sex with him without being commanded to do it. It had just been a… mutual desire. You feel dizzy at the realization. That constitutes an explicit violation of your contract. If anyone finds out, you’ll be fired for sure.

You’re short of breath, panic taking over as the world seems to spiral around you. Hoseok’s eyes widen and he holds you steadily, pulling you into his strong arms.

“Whoa, whoa. It’s okay, w-what’s wrong?” He sounds concerned as he pets your hair, letting you rest your chin on his shoulder. “Was it… not alright?”

You shake your head, desperately trying to keep your tears at bay. The last thing you need is for him to see you cry. All your training, all your effort to get this job, your career, your livelihood, it’s all disappearing, leaving you with nothing but failure on the horizon.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks again, gently coaxing you to speak.

You inhale shakily. Hoseok is too good for this. He’d be an amazing boyfriend. He deserves an actual girl to hold who can love him the way he deserves. One who doesn’t have rules to follow and boundaries to keep. A girl who can fully give herself to him and make love with him whenever he wants. Whenever they both want. Because that’s a real relationship.

Not this. Not like what you have. You and Hoseok… you can never be like that.

Because you’re just his Physical Companion.

All of his kindness, his gentleness, it’s all wasted on you. You don’t deserve it.

“This can’t happen again.” It’s all you can manage to say.

He’s silent for a moment, rubbing your back while your breathing slowly returns to normal. “Okay,” he says softly. He doesn’t ask any questions, he doesn’t fly into a rage, he just accepts your decision, and that makes you feel even more torn. He really deserves better than this.

“But if you ever want it to happen again,” He pulls back enough to look you in the eyes, and wipes a single tear off your cheek before it can fall. “You know where to find me. Just say the word.”

He looks at you and gives you a small smile. His eyes hold more heartbreak and empathy than you thought possible, and he whispers your name just once before bestowing one last, sweet kiss to your lips.

“Come on,” he says gently, standing up and starting to get dressed. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”

-------

You feel strange as you enter your room once again, everything exactly the way you left it. Hoseok had given you a kiss on the cheek before heading downstairs to get breakfast, humming a tune to himself, like nothing at all had happened.

Maybe he was pretending for your sake, or maybe last night didn’t really mean that much to him. You shake that thought away as impossible. Not even the most skilled actors could fake the level of intimacy Hoseok showed you last night.

You sigh and head over to your bed, sitting down to process the events of the past twenty-four hours. You slept with a client outside of working hours. He made love to you. But you liked it. It felt amazing. But now you might lose your job. You feel guilty for not being able to make love to him, even though it’s a ridiculous notion in and of itself. But you broke your contract, so do the rules even matter any more?

You’re uncertain, you’re scared, but also strangely excited... liberated. You wish you had a friend or maybe even a therapist to talk to, just so you can sort all this out and get a game plan together.

Your ComGear buzzes again from your night table, and you realize it’s been going off for a while. Are they really messaging you this early?

You pick up the slim device and swipe the screen up, expecting to find many missed notifications. Instead what greets you is something utterly different.

An unfamiliar purple screen, with an empty text box in the center and a question above it.

Cardinal Rule?

Consent. The answer comes immediately, drilled into you by Madame from your training days, and you type it into the text box. A green check mark appears next to the box, and suddenly a new screen is there, successfully unlocked.

It’s a chatroom, with messages from lots of strange usernames, occasionally bumped upward by new messages. It’s active.

What the fuck?

You look a little closer and start reading the texts.

[ PCsv01_svt  ]: yeah, it’s not fair at all lol [ PCsv03_twc ]: i’m so jealous TT [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: can u send more?? ur both so cute!! [ PCsv02_svt  ]: sure! hang on ^^

A few photos appear in the next message from them. The same couple is pictured in each one, making various cute poses together, kissing each other... 

You recognize the girl.

“Sascha...?” You whisper, your heart stopping as you cover your mouth. The sight of your old friend has tears springing to your eyes. You thought you’d never see her again.

But why is she in these photos? Who is she with? Who the fuck are all these people? What the hell is going on?

[ PCsv01_svt  ]: guys hang on [ PCsv01_svt  ]: pc for bts is here [ PCsv02_svt  ]: wait for real?! [ PCsv02_svt  ]: finally!! [ PCsv02_svt  ]: GIRL HOW ARE YOU [ PCsv02_svt  ]: it’s me sascha!! ^^ [ PCsv09_$px ]: glad you made it.. [ PCsv04_blp  ]: hi there [ PCsv01_gt7  ]: eyyyyy how’s it goin?

You stare in confusion and fear at the messages. Could that actually be Sascha? How is this possible?

You slowly type out a message, your curiosity overpowering your fear, and hit send before you can stop yourself.

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: what the fuck is going on [ PCsv01_bts  ]: what is this place

A reply comes quickly.

[ PCsv01_svt  ]: this is the private network for physcoms [ PCsv01_svt  ]: it’s inaccessible to anyone but us [ PCsv02_svt  ]: don’t worry! it’s safe here ^^ [ PCsv01_gt7  ]: welcome to the dark web babes B) I’m blake

Your palms are sweating. Dark web? Private network?

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: what do you mean? that’s impossible [ PCsv01_bts  ]: who set this up?? [ PCsv03_mtx ]: I know it sounds fake but this is legit [ PCsv01_gt7  ]: ur mom did lol [ PCsv02_svt  ]: Madame did! and other pc trainers~

You try to make sense of it. Another memory surfaces, one from your very first week at training. You had collapsed during basic stamina extensions trying to get the best score and outdo your classmates, and Madame had called you and your fellow trainees together for a talk...

“Girls. We are independant, yes. We are strong, yes.” Madame’s gaze sweeps across the worn out faces, her own expression steely, with an underlying kindness. Madame is strict, but only because she knows it’s what’s best for all of you.

“We must always rely on ourselves in this business,” she continues. “But also on each other.” 

“You are all in the same boat together. We PhysComs are the belittled backbone of society. Needed, but kept hidden. Brushed aside when it comes to our own needs. No one is on our side… except our fellow sex workers.” Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment, and the room is utterly silent while she collects her thoughts.

She turns her gaze to you, as if appraising your behavior. “I believe you all have the potential to be the best workers in the industry. But you won’t get there on your own.”

You swallow, but meet her gaze with determination.

She gives the slightest huff at your boldness, her gaze scanning the crowd again. “Stick together. Help each other succeed. You’ll find it’s much better that way.”

At the time, you thought she meant supporting each other during training. But… could this be what she was hinting at? A PhysCom support group?

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: Madame did this? [ PCsv06_ast  ]: lots of people contributed~ [ PCsv02_svt  ]: yup! micha is here too!! ^^ [ PCsv03_mtx ]: that would be me :) how’ve you been?

Micha? Another trainee from your group. You didn’t talk to her as much, but you remember she was cool and friendly. How could this be happening? What does all of this mean?

A thought occurs to you and a flash of fear hits your stomach. What if this is a setup? A ploy by your network to scope out rulebreakers - of which you are now one.

Fuck. How can you be sure this is real?

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: I… don’t trust this [ PCsv03_mtx ]: I didn’t at first either but it’s cool [ PCsv01_svt  ]: I understand your hesitation [ PCsv01_svt  ]: but this network is completely detached from your old one [ PCsv01_svt  ]: you’re off the grid [ PCsv02_svt  ]: connecting to the network also jailbreaks your gear!! you can use it like a phone now ^^

Wait, what? You tap back to your home screen. It looks like the boys’ phones. Instead of a handful of apps only approved by your network, you now have an app store, web browser, camera app, and standard phone and messaging apps instead of the restricted ones from before.

Holy shit.

You tap back into the chatroom, typing another message.

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: who are all of you? [ PCsv01_svt  ]: we’re PhysComs just like you [ PCsv01_svt  ]: I’m Antione [ PCsv06_ast  ]: hi~ nice to meet you! [ PCsv06_ast  ]: my name’s aashi hehe

This is all too much to take in. These are all other PhysComs?

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: how did I get here? [ PCsv01_svt  ]: you were playing solitaire, right? [ PCsv01_svt  ]: used the find your friends option? [ PCsv01_gt7  ]: boom that’s how you got here babes B) [ PCsv01_bts  ]: that… doesn’t make any sense [ PCsv01_gt7  ]: doesn’t have to, ur here now lol [ PCsv02_svt  ]: think about it! what do you do when you need help? find your friends! ^^

So… a solitaire app is the gateway to the PhysCom dark web? You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around the absurdity. You feel like you’re in a weird dream.

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: this is… bizarre [ PCsv01_bts  ]: sascha… who was in those pictures? [ PCsv02_svt  ]: oh! that’s Josh~ he’s my client <3 [ PCsv01_gt7  ]: and her boyyyfrieeend lolol [ PCsv02_svt  ]: yeah hehe ^///^ my adorable namchin~~

Um… what?

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: wait wtf [ PCsv01_bts  ]: client?? boyfriend?? [ PCsv01_bts  ]: which is he? [ PCsv02_svt  ]: both… <3

Your eyes are glued to the screen, your heart racing. This isn’t possible. Sascha is… dating her client? She can’t be. That’s not allowed. She’ll be fired.

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: you can’t do that sach! you’ll lose your job... [ PCsv02_svt  ]: aww no I won’t honey~ it’s okay [ PCsv02_svt  ]: we’re all dating clients! ^^ [ PCsv06_ast  ]: well.. most of us haha [ PCsv09_$px ]: not all of us are that lucky... [ PCsv01_gt7  ]: some of us are dating multiple clients ;) [ PCsv01_svt  ]: happens all the time

What sort of alternate reality have you stumbled upon…?

[ PCsv01_bts  ]: um how are you not all fired? [ PCsv01_gt7  ]: ummmm bc they want to date us too?? Lol [ PCsv01_svt  ]: since we’re all disconnected, the only real risk is if the client informs their company of the relationship [ PCsv02_svt  ]: but Joshie would never do that! he wants to be with me, even if it’s in secret <3 [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: she got him whipped lol [ PCsv02_svt  ]: yeah... I do ^^ hehe [ PCsv01_svt  ]: as long as feelings are reciprocated, being fired is almost impossible

This is either a trap, or they’re all crazy. They can’t just date their clients, it goes against every rule in the book. And yet...  you sense a glimmer of hope in spite of yourself. If they can do it, then why can’t you?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden knock on your door and you nearly jump out of your skin. You shove your ComGear under your pillow and rush to go answer it, your heart beating out of your chest and cheeks flushed from your rebellious activities.

You try to tame your hair and take a deep breath before answering the door, your brain still whirring in an attempt to make sense of all that you just read.

Jimin and Taehyung stand outside, both looking embarrassed. Taehyung gives you a small smile.

“Morning, jagiya. Do you have a minute?”

[angelliev]

Lover Boy - JJ Maybank x OC - Part Thirteen - Falling

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Aria comes back home to deal with the backlash of her relationship with her lover, JJ becomes interested in finding someone, and Aria scares the Pogues. 

Warnings: Kissing, cursing, blood, fainting, hospitals and Sarah Cameron being a savage.

A/N: Not much for this one. Looking forward to the next part. (Not my GIF. Credits to the owner. I don’t own any of the characters or the show.)

Lover Boy Series Masterlist

Miami has its perks, but nothing beats being back home in the outer banks. We’ve been back for several days now, hanging out, going to school, the usual. I wish spring break could last forever. Coming back to school was not something anyone was looking forward to. Thankfully, it was the last period of the day. I can’t wait to get out of this uniform and school. Ever since people found out about my relationship with JJ, people have been talking about me. Sometimes someone will mutter ‘pogue slut’ when they’re passing by me in the halls. I can really give less than two shits about what other people think, but it’s still pretty annoying. I’m just thankful I have Kiara, Sarah and Charis with me.

“So, Aria is it true?” An annoying voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I huff before looking up at Courtney, my classmate and unfortunately Samantha’s sister. She also used to live in Chapel Hill, then she moved to figure eight, like me. We used to be friends back in middle school, until I broke things off with her, due to her bullying others. I refused to be associated with a bully.

“Is what true Courtney?” I asked uninterested. “Is it true that you’re going out with JJ Maybank?” The question wanted to make me scream out of frustration. “Yes, why do care?” “Well, I was just curious, is he like your boyfriend or just a booty call?” I rolled my eyes at the question. “I’ve heard from a lot of tourons that he’s great in bed. Is that true?” Fuck yea it is. She asked with a devilish smile printed on her face. That’s when Sarah stepped in.

“Gee Courtney, you’re always into everyone’s business. Just like your boyfriend is into all the freshman girls’ skirts because he just can’t seem to get it up when he’s with you.” Que the scene from ‘Friday’ when they say DAMN! Courtney stomps away while glaring at the two of us. “Fucking bitch.” Sarah mutters. “Calm down Boo. Her words mean nothing to me. She’s just trying to get under my skin. It’s not worth the fight.” I chuckle, trying to calm her down. “I don’t care. No one talks to my splinter bean like that.” She boops my nose. “You’re adorable. You still coming to the chateau later on today?” I asked. We can’t really hangout together, due to the feud between our families. Everyone has been talking about it on the island. The two most powerful and richest families on the island fighting, all because of Rafe Cameron. Of course, Sarah and I didn’t let this affect our friendship. We’re still two peas in a pod, like always.

“Yep. Kiara and I are planning on volunteering at the turtle exhibit before we head over there. You want to tag along?” She offered. “I’d love to, but I’m helping JJ study for his test.” Lately, I’ve been tutoring JJ and making sure he’s going to school. I want to make sure he graduates, plus I don’t want him getting in more trouble with his dad. So far, it’s paying off. His grades have gone up and he’ll be walking for graduation.

“Studying or fucking?” Sarah smirks mischievously. “Studying! Get your head out of the gutter!” The two of us laugh together as we walk outside, where JJ and his bike are parked. I peck his lips, despite receiving disgusted glares. “I’ll catch up with you two later. Have fun ‘studying’.” She winks, making us laugh. “How was your day?” He asked. I answered by kissing him sweetly. “Does that answer your question?” He licks his lips. “Don’t know. Might have to try again.” He says before planting another one on me. I can feel the burning gazes of my peers on us. “Jay, people are staring.” I giggle. “Let em. They need to know not to mess with my girl. C’mon.” He puts on my helmet before I hop on his back. The engine roars to life, only gaining more attention from my classmates. JJ notices and decides to flip them off before yelling, “Later losers!” I giggle as we drive off towards the cut.

The two of us sit and munch on our food as we continue to study at The Wreck. It’s pretty cute watching JJ do his homework. He always has his eyebrows knitted and his eyes are so concentrated. His blonde hair occasionally falls in front of his eyes. “You’re staring again baby.” He smirks. “I can’t help it. You’re just so handsome.” I play with the loose strand of his hair, making him blush. “Awe, am I making you blush?” I tease. “I don’t blush.” He denies with a playful serious face. “Yeah sure, let’s see your work.” I take the paper into my hands scanning the answers.

“Hey babe guess what.” He starts. “Oh, dear god. What is it?” I joked earning an eye roll from him. “So, you know that broken-down Chevy Camaro I have?” He asked. “Yeah, what about it?” I asked, while continuing to check his paper. “I’ve saved enough money to fix it up completely. John B and I even towed it to the chateau, since my dad wants nothing to do with it. Now, all I need to do is fix it up.” I look up, my eyes are filled with excitement. “Babe, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! You can finally have your own car!” He smiles cheek to cheek. “I know, but I don’t know if I want to spend the money on it.” This makes my smile falter a bit.

“What do you mean? You’ve been talking about fixing it up forever. It’s always been your dream car. You’ve been saving up to fix it since freshman year.” He just sighs. “I know, but I think I want to spend the money on something else.” He says. “Like what?” He stays silent for a moment. “I think I want to hire someone to find my mom.” He speaks softly. His words take me by surprise for a moment. “I thought about what you said about your dad hiring someone to find your sister. I thought maybe I could hire someone like that to find my mom. I know it’s stupid.” He fiddles with his pencil; I quickly take his hand in mine. “It’s not stupid to want to find out what happened to your mom. I think it’s a great idea to hire someone to find her. Hell, I’ll pay for the private investigator.” I suggest.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that.” He immediately protests. “You don’t have to. JJ, I want to do this. You deserve to know. Plus, I’d love to meet the woman who gifted me with such an amazing boyfriend.” This seems to make him crack a smile, but only for a second. “But what if she doesn’t want to see me?” His question broke my heart. “It’s worth a shot. The worst that can happen is that she doesn’t want to see you, which I doubt will happen. Based on everything you told me about her, she really loves you.” I try to reassure him. “If she really loves me, then why did she leave?” He mutters. I just sigh. “Some people make terrible mistakes. But that doesn’t mean they can’t learn from them. Maybe you can give her the chance to redeem herself.” He just sighs. “I still can’t ask you to pay for a P.I., they’re expensive, aren’t they?” He asked. “Yeah, but in the end it’ll be worth it. Please let me do this for you JJ. That way you can use the money to fix the car and see your mom. Trust me, it’ll all be worth it in the end. I love you, so let me do this for you.” I plead.

“Fine. At least let me pay for the meal this time though.” He gives in. “Deal! Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Maybank.” I say in a stern voice, earning a chuckle from him. “Come on silly goose. The Pogues are probably waiting for us. I don’t need them scolding us for being late.” He pays the bill in cash before walking me out and onto the bike.

We reach the chateau, where we see everyone hanging out on the porch. When we reach them, I notice that they’re looking through these photos. “What are you guys up to?” I asked curiously. “Just looking at some adorable pictures of us when we were kids. Look at the boys.” Kie lifts up a picture of younger Pope, JJ and John B at the beach. “Aw! You guys look so cute!” I exclaim holding the picture. “What can I say, I’ve always been quite the eye candy.” JJ smirks, earning a glare from me. “So, how did you guys meet?” I point between the boys. The three of them share a laugh. John B speaks up. “JJ and I met in the third grade. This kleptomaniac here stole one of my toy cars, so I chased him all over the cut until I finally caught him. This dumbass had climbed to the top of this tree and couldn’t get down, cause his foot was stuck. I offered to help him down, only if he’d give me back the car. He said yes and we’ve been best friends ever since. Pope here, we met him in the sixth grade. JJ would always cheat off of Pope, which always made the poor boy mad. Then one day at lunch, these eighth graders had ganged up on him. We noticed and started a food fight to help Pope. The three of us got detention. The rest I history.” John B and the boys smile at the fond memories.

“That’s cute.” I chuckle. Part of me wishes I got to know them when I was younger. I guess they’ve always been troublemakers. They’re pretty close knitted, making their bond unbreakable. “Alright guys. Are we fishing or what?” Asked JJ. As we make our way to the HMS Pogue, I start to feel slightly dizzy. “You good babe?” JJ asked concerned. “Yeah, my head just hurts a little. Probably dehydrated.” I shrug my shoulders, not thinking anything of it. “Here, have some water.” He hands me one out of the cooler. “You’re starting to sound like my mom.” I chuckle. “Hey, I like your mom. She’s pretty cool. Always makes lunch when for Pope and I when we deliver groceries. Tips me nicely too. Wish all kooks were like that.” JJ smiles to himself. “Damn, I need to start delivering groceries to your house.” Says John B. “You should man. She always has lunch packed for us on standby. She makes the best sandwiches. Usually she’ll have some strawberries, carrots and chips on the side. Sometimes, she’ll put a cookie in there too.” JJ rambles on about my mom. “She likes you to you know? She thinks you’re pretty handsome.” I mock my mom. “What can I say? Moms love me.” He smiles cheek to the cheek, making me roll my eyes.

So far, we were all having fun on the boat laughing, talking, etc. Everything was going perfectly normal until my headache started getting worse and worse. I continue to down my water, thinking I’m still dehydrated. Perhaps I’m just stressed from school? It doesn’t explain the sweating though. It was only a nice seventy degrees out, with a beautiful breeze, and I was just wearing a swimsuit. We stopped for a moment to take a dip in the water. It still didn’t help however. My head was still pounding and I was still sweating afterwards.

“Aria!” The sound of Pope’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Huh?” I look over at the Pogues who looked at me with concerning faces. “I was asking if you were okay. You look a little pale.” He pointed out. Great. “Yeah I’m fine. Just dehydrated. I’ll grab another water.” I shake it off, thinking it was nothing. I was wrong though. I shouldn’t have thought it was nothing. The second I got up, I started to notice these peculiar spots in front of my eyes. I also couldn’t help but notice my shortness of breath as I made my way to the cooler. I had to stop walking for a moment just to catch my breath. “You alright babe?” JJ’s voice sounded faint. My vision began to go blurry as I stared at the water. “JJ, I don’t feel good. I think there’s something…” I didn’t get to finish my sentence before my vision goes completely dark and my body goes light.

Her body shuts down and falls to the ground. Her head thumps hard against the surface. The Pogues jump and gasp when they see their dear friend collapse. “Aria!” JJ shouts, rushing towards her unresponsive body. John B doesn’t think twice before racing the HMS Pogue back towards the chateau. “Aria! Baby! Hey! Wake up!” She doesn’t respond to his frantic yelling. That’s when he notices the blood on his hand coming from the gaping wound on her hand. “Oh shit! Fuck! Guys she’s bleeding!” JJ can feel the panic and fear finally setting in. His heart beating a thousand times faster.

Sarah comes running with a clean cloth and first aid kit in hand. Tears settle in her eyes and her hands shake as she applies it to the cut. “Okay. Okay. She gonna need stitches. We need to get her to the hospital. John B faster!” That’s what she said. Sorry. JB goes races through the marsh. “What the hell happened?” Kie asked. “I don’t know! She’s was fine all day until we got on the boat!” JJ exclaimed. The Pogues near the chateau. “John B! Help me get her to the van!” JJ demands. The two boys grab a hold of her body and carry her to the van. Kie jumps into the driver seat, with Pope in the front, and Sarah opens the side door. Once everyone is situated, Kie hits the gas, making her way to the hospital.

“Just hang on baby. We’ll be there soon I promise.” JJ’s voice and hands shook. The minutes felt agonizingly long as they raced to the hospital. A sigh of relief leaves the group of teenagers lips, when they finally reach their destination. The boys quickly grab a hold of Aria rushing her into the ER. Their desperate pleads can be heard throughout the ER, gaining everyone’s attention. A familiar face spots the two boys carrying the limp girl.

“Aria!” Elaine yelps and makes her way towards them, a gurney following behind. “What happened?!” She asked frantically as her daughter was placed on the journey and rushed through the halls. “We were hanging out, then all of the sudden she fainted and hit her head.” JJ explained, following them, until he was cut off by a few doctors. “You’ll have to wait out here son.” “No! That’s my girlfriend in there! I can’t leave her!” JJ ignores their orders, tears welling in his eyes. John B grabs a hold of his close friend. “JJ! She’s in good hands. She’s with her mom. She’ll be okay. I promise. Just breathe man.” JJ listens to his friend, finally catching his breath, yet he couldn’t help but worry over the love of his life as he stood there without her.

[creampuffqueen]

Deep in the Heart of Texas - Two

a/n: I really need to stop writing instead of doing online school. Whatever. This is kind of a filler chapter; things should be getting more interesting soon. I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary: Aelin Galathynius is ready for the best summer of her life. She’s home from college for the summer, and so are all of her friends. Even her cousin is on a break from the military. Everything is set up to be perfect. Until... her mother decides to let the son of an old family friend stay with them while he grieves the loss of a loved one. And Aelin is not going to let a party pooper ruin her summer.

Rowan Whitethorn has just suffered the biggest loss of his life: the death of his long-time girlfriend, Lyria. His family is sick of him moping around his tiny New York apartment, so they ship him down south for the summer. The last thing Rowan wants is to spend his vacation in Nowhereville, Texas, but he has little choice. Not to mention, the only people his age seem to hate him. How on earth is he going to survive 3 months of this?

“Aelin, we’re home!” Evalin trills as she steps inside. Rhoe is behind her, along with Eleanor and Gavriel. 

“Uncle Gav! Aunt Ellie!” And Aelin feels like a little kid again, running to her aunt and uncle. Gavriel pulls her into a tight hug while Eleanor kisses her head.

“It’s so good to see you. How’s A&M?” Eleanor asks. Aelin walks her family to the living room, telling them everything. All about the professor she hates (“Maeve is still teaching?” Gavriel snorts), and the friends she’s made, and that crazy end-of-year party she went to. 

“Aedion’s out right now.” Aelin tells her aunt before she can ask. Eleanor chuckles, sinking further into the couch. 

“Aelin!” Turning to her mother, Aelin gives her a questioning look.

“What?”

“It’s five! We need to go pick up Rowan from the airport.” Evalin stands up, ready to grab her purse and run out again, but Aelin stops her.

“He’s already here, Mom. His flight got moved up and he got here around two o’clock.” Evalin’s eyes widen.

“Why didn’t you text me? And where is he?”

“Sorry, I forgot.” Aelin sighs lamely. “And he’s asleep in his bedroom. He must have been really tired, I haven’t heard a peep from him all afternoon.”

Aelin’s mother sits down again, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Nobody says anything for a long while, until Eleanor stands up suddenly.

“We should get started on dinner, don’t you think? Especially if we have a guest. We don’t want him going hungry, now do we?”

Evalin still doesn’t speak, but she gets up anyway and follows her sister into the kitchen. Leaving Aelin alone with her father and uncle.

“How long are you two in town for, uncle Gav?” She asks.

“I was able to get two weeks off.” Gavriel says with a smile. Eleanor is a teacher, so she’s already off for the whole summer. “We wanted to see y’all before you both went back to school.”

“You remember the Whitethorns, right?” Rhoe interjects. “They’ve been down here a few time when y’all were.”

“How can I forget?” Gavriel chuckles. “I had to scold Aedion for days after he punched one of their kids.”

The two men laugh at old memories, bringing Aelin back, as well. She’d been five years old the first time she met the Whitethorns. 

Enda was six and Sellene was seven, and the three of them got on like wildfire. Aelin showed them all over the house, even the cool secret areas in places she wasn’t supposed to go. Rowan and Aedion had trailed behind, seeming to get along just fine.

But then, as Aelin showed them the cool secret alcove in the library, Rowan had threatened to tell on them for being where they weren’t supposed to. He’d barely turned around to get out of the room before Aedion tackled him.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, and all Aelin remembered after that was turning to Aedion as the Whitethorns’ car pulled out of the driveway and saying, “I’m so glad they’re gone.”

“Aelin! Come help me chop veggies!” Evalin’s voice from the kitchen pulls her from her memories, and she hurries away from the living room, leaving the two men to chat in peace.

“I’m making chicken spaghetti casserole.” Eleanor says from the stove. The water is at a rolling boil, and her aunt quickly drops in the pieces of chicken to cook while Aelin and Evalin cut up the onions and peppers.

It doesn’t take long before it seems like Aelin has been forgiven; or at least, Evalin doesn’t seem too mad anymore. Aelin tells her that Rowan arrived just fine, settled in fine. Like she’s checked on him since then.

She also makes sure to keep some other things to herself. Like how she knows her mother set up a large suite for him, but she gave him the smallest room on purpose. Or that even though she’s determined to hate his guts, Rowan Whitethorn is unfairly hot. 

Hot as hell, and also off-limits as hell. After all, he’s here to recover from his girlfriend dying in a car accident. Hitting on him is… probably the opposite of what he needs.

Even if he’s far too attractive for his own good.

Eleanor pulls the chicken from the boiling water and adds the pasta, breaking the noodles in half before she drops them in. Aelin is busy grating cheese now, while her mother sautees the veggies.

Someone comes inside, opening up the creaky screen door and stepping into the entryway. Aelin peeks out of the kitchen to see her uncles, Orlon and Weylan.

“Something smells good.” Orlon laughs, already heading for the kitchen. Aelin meets him halfway, grinning, throwing herself into her great-uncle’s arms.

“You’re home!”

Orlon laughs at that, planting a kiss on Aelin’s golden head. Weylan comes up beside them, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “We’ve barely been gone a week.”

“Well, you missed my coming home party. Everyone was there.” Aelin pouts playfully. 

Orlon just keeps smiling, shuffling into the kitchen to snatch a piece of boiled chicken, much to Eleanor’s dismay. She’s busy straining the pasta, getting ready to assemble the casserole and put it in the oven. She slaps Weylan’s hand away before he can take a piece, too.

“Uncle, did Mom tell you that she’s letting a strange man stay in our house?” Aelin asks, grinning fiendishly.

“Aelin,” Evalin sighs, “He’s not a strange man, he’s a family friend.”

“She did tell me.” Orlon chuckles. “Poor sucker.” He uses Eleanor’s distraction to take another piece of chicken, making Aelin’s aunt nearly squawk.

They all fall into conversation easily, the whole family crowding the large kitchen. When Aedion gets back from town, he’s just as excited to see his uncles.

Aelin hadn’t realized how much she missed this; the easy-going personality of Orlon mixed with Weylan’s snark, the laughter of her aunt and uncle, the feeling of togetherness. This, right here, is her family. Her people.

Rhoe pulls a few beers from the fridge, tossing one to Aedion and Gavriel. At Aelin’s protests, he gives her one too.

“I’m twenty-one, Dad. I can drink now.”

“Legally, at least.” Aedion grins. Aelin elbows him sharply, and her cousin doubles over, coughing.

All of the commotion draws Fleetfoot into the kitchen, and nobody can resist her cute begging face. Before Eleanor can get the casserole fixed up properly, the dog has already eaten what seems half the chicken, snuck to her by nearly every person in the room.

Aelin finishes her beer with a contented sigh and tosses the can, heading to set the table at her mother’s insistance. Despite the fact that she’s twenty-one and Aedion is twenty-six, they’re still the youngest members in the house, meaning all the mundane chores get thrown on them. 

When the plates and cups and silverware are set, Evalin hands her daughter the cloth napkins. Aelin looks up at her, confused.

“Why are we being all fancy? It’s just us.” She asks.

“Have you already forgotten the guest sleeping upstairs?” Evalin sighs, clearly exasperated. “I want to give him a good impression.”

Aelin rolls her eyes, but sets out the fancy napkins anyway. By her standards, Rowan Whitethorn deserves absolutely none of this fuss. Really, she should have just gone out and gotten them all Whataburger for dinner. 

But since she doesn’t have a death wish, Aelin doesn’t talk back to her mother. The napkins get set, the casserole comes out of the oven, piping hot and ready to eat.

“Aedion, go wash up.” Eleanor tells her son. “Aelin, how about you go and get our guest? I’m sure he’s starving by now.”

Aelin trudges up the large staircase, muttering obscenities under her breath.

“What was that?” Her aunt calls back.

“Nothing!” She answers. Screw the stupid mother sense that allows her to hear back-talk from nearly a room away.

Upstairs, Aelin hurries to Rowan’s room, on the furthest side of the house from her own bedroom. She wasn’t exactly lying about all the rooms being taken, but maybe she wasn’t completely truthful, either.

All of her friends stayed for a few days after the party, not ready to head home just yet. They’d spent the days in one room or the other, often accompanied by multiple bottles of wine, and just talked. She felt as though she hadn’t seen her friends in ages, with school just being so busy. 

Now, seeing as everyone is finally gone, only a few rooms on the upper floor are taken, truly. Hers, Aedion’s, one for her great-uncles, and one for her aunt and uncle. Her parents’ bedroom is downstairs, leaving several rooms vacant that Rowan could have taken. 

However, Aelin didn’t want him anywhere near her, which meant the furthest, smallest bedroom possible. She walks to it quickly, knocking impatiently on the door. 

“I’m coming.” A muffled voice on the other side of the door says. Aelin tuts loudly and taps her foot, crossing her arms. 

“It’s time for dinner.” Aelin calls.

The door opens, and Aelin hates how she has to look up at the bastard. His silvery hair is mussed, likely from sleeping on it. However, the bags under his eyes suggest otherwise.

“Are you coming?” She snaps. Rowan doesn’t say anything, just steps outside, running a hand through his hair in a failed attempt to tame it. Aelin turns away, feeling warm. He has absolutely no right to be so attractive, and it feels strangely intimate, walking in on him just waking up.

“It’s chicken spaghetti casserole. And the rest of my family is home, so try not to say anything too stupid. In fact, maybe just speak as little as possible.” Aelin leads him downstairs, heading for the dining room.

The less she looks at him, the better.

~~~~

As exhausted as he was, Rowan hadn’t slept a wink. A fact that pains him more and more with each step downstairs. His head feels fuzzy. And hot. Why is it still so fucking hot? How do these people handle it? 

“Rowan!” He looks up to see Evalin Galathynius, arms wide open, pulling him into a sudden hug. Rowan tenses up, eyes widening. Over her shoulder, Rowan has a clear view of Aelin snickering at his misfortune.

“Please, come sit.” Another woman, one who looks almost exactly like Evalin, gestures to the large wooden table. Rowan takes a seat awkwardly, trying to force a smile to his face. He fails miserably.

“This is my sister, Eleanor.” Evalin smiles. “And her husband, Gavriel.” She introduces the rest of the people, and all Rowan wants is to go back upstairs and sleep.

The Galathynius family is a sight, that’s for sure. He always thought that Aelin and Aedion looked similar, but looking at Evalin and her sister… they’re practically twins.

At least the food is good. Probably incredibly unhealthy, being mostly pasta and cheese and breadcrumbs, but good. And the other people make up all the conversation, so at least he doesn’t have to speak too much. 

If only he didn’t have to speak at all. The dog- what was its name- nudges his legs, and he can hear it panting beneath the table, begging for scraps. He tries his best to push it away discreetly.

“So, Rowan.” Gavriel tries to make friendly conversation, pulling Rowan away from staring at his nearly empty plate. “What’s New York like at this time of the year?”

“Fine.” Rowan doesn’t offer any more information, hoping to keep himself closed off. “And it doesn’t feel like the fires of hell.” He mutters under his breath.

Rhoe Galathynius bursts out laughing. “Ain’t that the truth! Hell, it’s barely June! Only gonna get hotter from here, son.”

Yay.

“I’ll take your plate, Rowan.” Looking up, he sees Aelin giving him a simpering smile, somehow paired with a death glare. He still hasn’t figured out why she hates him so much.

He passes her the dirty plate and silverware, and Aelin moves to offer the same to her uncles. She takes them through to the kitchen, the dog crawling out from under the table to follow her.

“Thank you for making dinner, Mrs. Galathynius.” Rowan says to the woman sitting across from him. She beams.

“Of course, sweetheart. And you can call me Evalin.”

“Anybody want ice cream?” Aelin yells into the dining room. “We got some Blue Bell left!”

Everyone calls back for ice cream, though Rowan is silent. Sure, something cold sounds nice, but he’s already full from dinner. Not that he’s had much appetite lately.

When Aelin returns, the dog yet again on her heels, she’s balancing several bowls of ice cream in both hands, and she places them expertly before her family, a real, genuine smile on her face.

“I hope y’all like it. There’s none left now.” She laughs. Getting a scoop of vanilla on her spoon, she lets the dog lick it off with a smile.

“You don’t want any, Rowan?” Evalin asks sweetly. 

“No thanks.” He responds. “I’m already full. And… I’ve had a long day, I think I’m going to bed, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Get some sleep.” She smiles.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Blue Bell ice cream, man.” Aedion laughs from his seat. “This is the good shit. Sure you don’t wantney?”

Struggling to understand the thick accent, Rowan shakes his head quickly, offering another apology. He practically sprints upstairs, Aelin’s hysterical laugh ringing in his ears.

Despite it being nearly seven o’clock, the sun is still bright and hot, gleaming through the windows onto his bed. 

Rowan flops down onto the comforter, wincing as he lands onto the patch of burning sunlight. Rolling over, he reaches for his phone of the nightstand.

Several missed texts and calls from friends and family meet him. Enda and Sellene’s are most prominent, wanting to make sure he’s arrived safely. There’s one or two alerts from his parents, just confirming his thoughts that they’ve shipped him down here to get him out of their hair, not because they’re worried for him, and then several from his friends, Fenrys and Lorcan.

In fact, right as he unlocks his phone, he gets another call from Fenrys. With a sigh, he answers it.

“Oh shit! He’s alive!” Fenrys chuckles, and Rowan can practically hear the troublemaking grin.

“Yeah, whatever. What do you want?” 

“I’m checking in, man.” Fenrys says. “How’s the lone star state?”

“I’m literally sleeping on the set of Gone with the Wind, so…” 

His friend laughs at that. “Well, at least you get to to sit around and drink beer and see hot women all day.”

Something in Rowan’s heart tugs violently, and he brushes it off with a laugh that sounds forced, even to his own ears.

“No, it’s too fucking hot to go outside. It was seriously almost 100 degrees this afternoon, and it’s only going to get hotter as summer goes on. I’m not going to survive the heat.”

“Well, man, you’re in luck.” Fenrys says. “Because if you’re stuck inside all day, at least you’ll have friends.”

“The only people my age in this awful town hate me.” Rowan snaps. “What are you planning, Fen?”

“How about Lorcan tells you.” His friend nearly cackles. Rowan hears the sound of the phone being passed over.

“Hey, Ro.” Lorcan sighs. “I can’t believe I let Fen talk me into this. Even Connall managed to resist him.”

“What’s going on.” Rowan asks, suspicious.

“I am currently holding two plane tickets to Houston, Texas!” Fenrys cheers. “We’re coming down to cheer you up!”

“What the hell.” Rowan groans. “Did either of you think this through at all? Where are you even staying?”

“We’ll figure that out tomorrow.” Fenrys calls, Lorcan having put the phone on speaker.

Of course. Fenrys’s family is filthy rich, so he clearly has the idea to just find a hotel nearby and crash, not caring about expenses. Although Rowan is touched his friends care enough to come all the way down to see him, he can already tell this is going to go badly. Very badly.

“All the nearby hotels are shitty.” Rowan tells him. “So just warning you. Everything in this stupid state is dusty and hot and ugly.”

Lorcan says something, but is interrupted by a loud knock on Rowan’s door. 

“Hang on; I’ll call you back.” Fenrys protests, but Rowan doesn’t listen, just hanging up the call. 

He walks over to the door, trying to reign in his groan. Why can’t he just be left alone?

It’s Aelin at the door, of course. It seems she’s taken it upon herself to personally torment him.

“I’m just letting you know, we have church in the morning. We leave at nine o’clock. If you need some nicer clothes, just take some of Aedion’s. You know, since this whole state is dusty and hot and ugly.”

Rowan groans at her words. Of course she heard him. Before he can say anything more, Aelin shuts the door, hard.

He’s been here for less than twenty-four hours, and yet he’s already messed something up.

Typical.

~~~~

a/n: so, in Rowan’s POV, I made sure to add a bunch of words and vocab not included in Aelin’s. Why? Because a Southern accent is something else, man. Of course Rowan’s going to notice it more, not being from the south, while Aelin has been listening and speaking like that her whole life. Also, the ‘wantney’ wasn’t a typo. Saying ‘want any’ out loud with my own southern voice smushed the words together, so I decided to do that here. 

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@http-itsrebecca​

@rowaelinforeverworld​

[izzy-b-hands]

Auld Lang Syne

Some poly!Queen, based off my own frustration that I fell asleep hard at like ten last night, and didn’t make it to midnight for New Years (I didn’t wake up till nine this morning, y’all. Like what even was that, the one night my staying up should have been easy to do lol.) 

Quick synopsis: Everyone falls asleep before midnight except for John. And normally that would be whatever, but it’s New Years, and he’s not happy about being the only one awake for this night. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“I cannot believe you all,” John puttered around the living room, mugs of tea balanced in his hands and the crooks of his elbows. “Asleep! With two hours to go!”

“And awakened by nine in the morning,” Freddie grumbled, though he took the mug with an appreciative smile. “What a world.”

“Yes!” John continued. “You lot are never the ones to bed early, and the one night it counted-”

“With all respect,” Brian interrupted. “It’s only New Years, Deaky. By definition, we will all go on, and things will be okay.”

The wrong thing to say, quickly apparent with John’s scoff and the dumping of Brian’s tea into the nearest plant.

“Was that really necessary?” Freddie sighed. “That plant is fake, anyway...”

“I’ve been watering it for at least a month,” Brian whined. “When were you going to tell me that?”

“You didn’t look at it?” Freddie laughed. “It’s obviously fake.”

“In his defense,” Roger interjected. “I have also been watering it. I thought it might be fake, but I didn’t want it to die and upset anyone if it was real, so...”

“So if it was real, we would have killed it anyway,” Brian muttered.

“I’m glad the plant is worthy of your attention,” John didn’t shout, but his voice carried out the open window, loud enough to stop the conversation their neighbors were having outside. “Let me know when I am as well, will you?”

He was in the spare bedroom with the door slammed and locked before they could so much as blink.

“I think we fucked up,” Roger mumbled. “In my professional opinion.”

“Professional opinion?” Freddie asked.

“As someone who’s had his fair share of fuck ups,” Roger replied.

Freddie nodded. “I agree. But all the same, I feel like I’m missing something. He didn’t seem all that into celebrating last night; I figured he’d be the first asleep anyway.”

“That’s true,” Brian noted, and they could see the wheels in his head turning. “But, think of it like this. He did organize the little party for us. Bought groceries. Bought the champagne. Had it all ready for us as we each got home.”

Freddie set his mug on the coffee table and ran a hand down his face with a sigh. “We fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Brian winced. “We did.”

---

It wasn’t that he held any great love for any holiday (except maybe Christmas, that one wasn’t terrible.) But he had put so much work into New Years this time, and they had seemed to be enjoying it. They’d all been a bit pissed, but surely even drunken promises to stay awake for two more hours meant something, right?

“I’m being an ass,” John muttered to himself as he paced the room. What had he been hoping for anyway? Something stupid and overly romantic, something he didn’t normally concern himself with too much. But it had stuck in his head a few weeks prior, the idea of trading kisses right on the hour (they were boyfriends after all, even if their relationship together was often low-key, easily mistaken for and hidden as only friendship when necessary.)

And when midnight had struck, they’d all been passed out. He’d fought so hard to stay awake for them, and they seemingly hadn’t even tried to stay up.

“Get over it,” he grumbled to himself again. He wanted to let himself shout it all out to the walls, as he’d done in the past when he was the only one in the flat, but he certainly couldn’t do it now, even if keeping it in his head made him feel overwhelmed, his mind overfull with thoughts. “You’re just tired anyway, you were up until fucking midnight.”

It had actually been more like two in the morning before he’d gotten to sleep himself. He’d left them in the living room, draped on the floor and in a chair and on the couch. The idea, as upset as he’d been that night, even more than now, was that he would enjoy taking the bed from them. It barely fit all four of them anyway (hence the spare bedroom, with its own decently-sized bed), so it wouldn’t be luxurious, but it would be all his.

Instead, he’d tossed and turned (and if he was honest with himself, cried for a short while) and when he did sleep, it wasn’t restful at all.

He stopped pacing and let himself drop onto the bed. Maybe a nap would be reset enough, to quell the fire in his head over something that, even as he was upset over it, he knew was stupid.

---

“John?” Freddie knocked at the door of the spare bedroom, but heard nothing in reply. “He’s holding a grudge, apparently.”

“He is good at those,” Roger said softly. “Let me try?”

They exchanged places, and Roger leaned against the door. “Deaky? We’re sorry, we are. We didn’t realize this was so important to you. That’s on us; we’re stupid like that sometimes. But that’s no excuse, and we’d like to apologize proper and make it up to you.”

Nothing.

“Did he mention something he wanted to do last night, and we were too pissed to remember him saying it?” Roger hissed to them.

Freddie and Brian shrugged. If John had said anything, they certainly didn’t remember.

“Talk to us, at least,” Roger continued to the door. “We can’t help and make it better if we don’t know the details of how we fucked up. And I really am sorry, but we only have a glimmer. We know you must have had something planned for New Years, but we don’t recall what it was, and I admit, that’s terrible. If you can bear it, tell us what it was, remind us, and we can try and fix this.”

Still nothing.

Roger looked utterly gutted. “He always responds when it’s me. Why isn’t he saying anything?”

“I don’t know,” Freddie sighed. “Come on, the tea’s gone cold. We can make more, and Brian...”

“I’ll try,” Brian said, and moved past Roger to sit on the floor by the door.

He waited until they were off to the kitchen to talk. “John? I don’t know if you can hear me. I presume you can. I-”

He stopped himself. The words he had on his tongue were too angry, too frustrated with John for not communicating to them.

He took a breath. “I’m sorry. We did fuck up, and we’re all sorry for that. But you’ve hurt Rog now, you know? He thought for sure you’d reply to him, and you didn’t.”

A pause. He wanted to just shake the doorknob until John opened up, but all the same, he knew that would be both childish and totally useless.

“We want to make it up to you. Make things right. But we can’t do that if you don’t talk to us. Give us a chance to apologize. This isn’t like you, anyway. You have your quiet moments, but usually, when we fight-”

Brian leaned in closer to the door, a sound barely perceptible through it.

Snoring.

He had to laugh, he couldn’t help it, as he stood and walked to the kitchen.

“Glad this is so funny to you,” Roger frowned. “I know you and Deaky have your moments, but really-”

“He’s sleeping,” Brian interrupted him with another giggle. “He went in there to mope, probably got frustrated with himself over it, and fell asleep as soon as he lay down.”

“How do you know all that?” Freddie asked, fighting with their breakfast, for now just a few eggs in a pan. “Roger, can you help here?”

They switched spots, and Freddie met Brian’s gaze. “Seriously. You can’t just make presumptions and hope it’ll soothe things.”

“I’m not,” Brian scoffed. “I can hear him snoring. Go, sit by the door, and lean in close as you can. He’s out cold.”

Freddie walked past him and to the door, and returned a moment later with a smile. “Poor thing. How late do you think he stayed up last night, without us?”

“Everything was cleaned up,” Roger replied. “So too late, I would guess.”

“Get a plate out,” Freddie instructed. “We’re going to pick that lock and get him breakfast in bed.”

“You mean we’re going to wake him up when he needs to sleep, and force food on him?” Brian suggested.

“No, because you know that if he sleeps too long into the day, he fusses anyway,” Freddie replied. “Because then he won’t be tired enough to sleep later tonight, and he’ll just keep rolling like that, from one grumpy mood to the next.”

“Fair point,” Brian nodded. “We should find something to use as a tray...”

“We have one,” Roger said. “...wait, no. We did. The fake plant is sitting on it, I think. Didn’t want water to drain out of the pot and onto the floor...”

“Oh, but we are a foursome, aren’t we?” Freddie laughed. “If he sits up, and eats carefully, he can just set the plates on the bed.”

“I’ll go get the tray and clean it,” Roger said. “The plant doesn’t need it anyway, or so we now know.”

“I could swear I told you two it was fake,” Freddie noted, but Roger was already off to the living room, leaving him and Brian to tend the food.

---

In his dream, it was almost too much. He couldn’t even enjoy it, he knew it was a dream.

They fawned over him, well beyond anything anyone would do for him in real life (and to a degree that made him uncomfortable.)

Freddie, naked in his lap, trying to get him to sip champagne from an overfull glass.

Roger, clothed only in the tiny rugby shorts he occasionally shared with Freddie, offering him toast on a plate. Just toast, oddly enough.

Brian, a telescope in hand, nearly forcing him to look through it. “It’ll fall at midnight, you know.”

“What?” John’s tongue felt fuzzy in the dream, heavy to move, but maybe champagne in dreams was just stronger. “The moon?”

Brian nodded. “If you want it to.”

“I think we need it up there,” John replied. “For tides, and things like that.”

Brian shrugged, and handed him a plate with scrambled eggs on it.

“What is this for?”

Brian shrugged again, and pointed to the moon. “There it goes!”

He watched the moon dip down, falling to land who knew where, its light dimming as it fell.

A panic rose in his chest, and though there was nothing he could do to stop it falling, he felt he had to try.

Before he could get up, trying to gently push Freddie off his lap, Freddie handed him, of all things, a mug of coffee.

“What in the fuck is going on?” John asked him, but Freddie didn’t reply, his gaze falling on their front door.

The knob shook and wiggled, and the sounds of someone trying to pick the lock suddenly came through clearly.

---

“This alone might wake him up,” Brian laughed. “We’ve done this before, how is it taking so long this time?”

“Says the man holding the tray, not trying to get the lock open!” Roger muttered as he fought with the lock picking kit and the door.

“I’m helping in the best way I can,” Brian replied, playfully miffed.

“And you?” Roger asked of Freddie, who was barely holding back his own giggles.

“I...am moral support. I believe in you! You can do it!”

“You don’t remember how to use this kit, do you?”

“I do not,” Freddie replied confidently.

“Delightful,” Roger shook his head, but he giggled as he kept on at the lock.

The door swung open, and took him with it, onto John’s feet.

“Good morning!” Roger chirped, muffled as he picked himself up. “We’ve brought you a ‘we’re very sorry’ breakfast! It’s still warm, even.”

John’s eyes jumped over each of them a few times, their faces showing how eagerly they were awaiting his reaction.

He burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. All he could think of was them in his dream, half clothed and offering him breakfast.

“Um,” Roger said softly. “It isn’t that bad. I mean the eggs look a bit rough, but that’s because Freddie helped with them-”

“I did my best!” Freddie interrupted. “They’re scrambled anyway; they aren’t meant to look a masterpiece.”

“If you settle back in bed,” Brian interjected, peeking past them to John. “I can set this down, and you can eat, and we’ll go away again.”

“No,” John sighed. “You don’t have to go away. Did you make enough for yourselves?”

“Yeah,” Roger replied. “Mostly because I kept forgetting to do less than what we usually make. It’s habit, you know?”

John nodded. “Let me eat out there with you all. This was very sweet though, I’ll say that.”

“Not till you say what we did wrong,” Brian stammered, seemingly surprised at himself, shrugging as Brian and Roger looked to him with confused frowns. “I mean. We could just smooth things over with breakfast, but that doesn’t really make it better, does it? We should work through what actually happened, or rather didn’t, since we fell asleep last night.”

John shook his head. “Was stupid. And I didn’t help things; I didn’t really say to you all what I was expecting. You couldn’t do what I didn’t tell you I wanted.”

“Fair, but I doubt it was stupid,” Roger said. “What was it?”

John blushed bright red. “Just wanted a kiss from each of you when it hit midnight. God, that sounds stupid out loud, doesn’t it? How old am I? Like some damsel in a movie, or something...”

“Hang on,” Roger reached over and pulled him close, then dipped him down and kissed him, even as he giggled.

He brought them back up with a snap, apparently struggling not to just tip over. “Sorry. That was kind of shit, but best I can do at this time of the morning.”

John grinned. “It’s nearly noon.”

“Morning, noon,” Roger shrugged. “What is time, anyway?”

Freddie nodded, and motioned for John to come over to him. The kiss was soft and sweet and still tasted slightly of champagne. “Not midnight, but I think it still counts.”

Brian smiled, then frowned at the tray still in his hands. “Can I set this down before I have my go? I don’t want to spill coffee on you or something.”

“Here,” Roger took the tray from him, and nodded for Freddie to follow him. “We’ll be in the kitchen, getting the rest ready. Freshen up the coffee and tea as well, all that.”

Brian’s kiss was as gentle as Freddie’s, a hand holding the tip of John’s chin up.

“Can I ask you something?” John murmured as the kiss ended.

“Sure,” Brian smiled.

“Would you watch the moon fall, let it fall, if I wanted it to?”

Brian blinked, clearly confused. “I suppose I would. If it’s falling out of the sky, chances are good something serious is going on anyway, whether you caused it or not. I couldn’t stop it, and the effects would be monstrous, so if it would make you happy-”

He paused, and nodded. “Yeah. I’d watch it fall with you.”

John hugged him tightly. “Good. That’s what I thought.”

Brian still looked baffled, but he smiled and welcomed John to his side as they walked to the kitchen, towards the sounds of Freddie and Roger running amok, and the scent of just-starting-to-burn coffee.

[vikingsarememes]

His True Wife

previous part                         ↭ part  four  ↭                             next part

Main Characters: Hvitserk Ragnarsson, Reader.

Characters Mentioned: Amma, Ubbe, Ivar, Original characters

Summary: you finally found your friend, but you didn’t like what you saw, it was time for you to take things into your own hands.

Word Count:   1850

A/N: none.

warnings: typical addiction and hallucination stuff

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Hvitserk please, there’s someone who wishes to meet you” Amma pleaded, knocking harder on the door, Hvitserk finally opened the door, hiding most of his face and body, he looked at you as if he just saw a ghost “no! You are dead!” he shouted pointing at you, fear in his eyes “what?” you frowned and looked at Amma, waiting for an explanation “he’s sick, he sees ghosts sometimes, he thinks you are one of them” the man slammed the door shut.

Seeing him like this made your heartache, made you want to scream “what happened to him?” you demanded, trying your best not to fall into tears “Ivar happened my lady, he… he banished him then burned his wife alive, Thora, he keeps calling her name, he sees them everywhere” she said with sympathy, you took a deep breath, trying not to vomit, Ivar would never do that to her, or would he? Now that you look back, the man’s changed, he was driven to madness by that snake.

You knocked violently on the door “Hvitserk open the door, please, let me talk to you! Let me see you! I thought you were gone I will not leave before talking to you” you said determined, and you kept knocking until Hvitserk opened the door again, he screamed at you, you looked at him, so calm, then you screamed back at him, you pushed your way inside of his cabin, dark, with no fire to keep him warm, only one candle was lit, you saw the roof leaking a little, you kept looking around, trying to gather enough courage to take a good look at your friend.

“I will let you two talk, you know where you can find me if you need me,” she said mostly to you, Hvitserk stood in the middle of the room, dazzled, yet his head hanged so low, Hvitserk was a tall man, who stood with pride but now, he seemed ever so small, like a child, his eyes were red, his golden hair turned dark of dirt, you walked closer to him, he didn’t dare to look at you “Hvitserk, for Odin’s sake look at me!” you pleaded, cupping his face with both of your hands “I’m not supposed to… Ivar killed you… he went to your farm before heading away… please be gone, I’m begging you, I have enough ghosts of my own” his tears started to fall, yours as well.

You took him in an embrace, hoping it would be enough proof, “tell me, would a dead person hug?” you whispered softly, Hvitserk didn’t hug you back, Hvitserk used to visit your farm just to hug you, and now, he can’t bring himself to wrap his shaking arms around your body and hug you “Hvitserk what happened to you?” you asked taking another look at your long lost friend.

“I see her everywhere, my wife, Thora, remember her? She said she’d leave me alone if I avenge her death, I drink to make her go away, she never does! She’s everywhere! Her face is burnt! Her touch feels like death, she wants to kill me Y/N, she wants blood! And Ivar… he’s everywhere, he’s mocking me, he’s torturing me!” he explained, looking at empty spaces in the room, trembling, shaking, you held him, knowing if you let go of him he’d fall.

“Damn you Ragnarssons” you mumbled and caressed his hair, feeling the grease on the palm of your hand “Hvitserk are you staying here alone?” you asked, already made up your mind about what to do next “Amma visits sometimes” he replied, “Ubbe?”, “he wants nothing to do with me… I’m disgrace, he’s ashamed of me, and I do not blame him, I try to make him proud, but I fail, just like I failed Thora” he started sobbing, you held him close, waited for him to calm down, cursed Ubbe for not looking after his brother, for letting him go this mad.

“Would you like to come with me? Back to the farm… away from everyone and everything” you suggested, but mostly, you informed “I… I must stay here, I need ale, and mushroom, I need to forget” you took a deep breath “you need to recover, nothing bad ever happens in the farm” 

“Elizabeth, Trys, please, gather Hvitserk’s belongings, we will take him with us” you roared, your two slaves joined in, picking up his clothes, they put them in a basket, Hvitserk didn’t protest, he simply stood, shaking and looking down at his feet “please Hvitserk, you love my farm, you love playing with the goats, I have so many now. Some are babies, don’t you want to play with them again? I have sheep too, and Trys here, she cooks well, she can prepare all of your favorite food, chicken, and bread, what do you say white shirt? Would you come and stay with me instead? Allow me to look after you” 

You waited patiently, your maidens already took everything that seemed to be useful and placed it in the cart, Hvitserk eventually nodded, a shy nod but you’ll accept it “you won’t regret it, I promise” you grinned and hugged him, leading him to the cart, you made sure he sat well and safe, you sat next to him in the back, afraid he might fall if you weren’t there to hold him “should we inform king Ubbe, my lady?” Elizabeth asked “send him a word, let’s get going now” 

The ride was peaceful if it wasn’t for Hvitserk screaming every now and then, and everyone giving you weird looks the minute you stepped down with his hand in yours “well, don’t just stand there! Help the poor women! Trys would you prepare something for Hvitserk to eat? Lorenzo, would you be a dear and prepare him a bath, wash what needs to be washed! Come on! I know it’s barely morning but today is exceptional!” You led the way inside, where Thoman was waiting for your return “my lady” he said respectfully “you remember Hvitserk” you reintroduced “how can I forget the man who rescued me from being sacrificed” he took few steps closer to Hvitserk who clang to your arm like a child would when he’s scared.

“I take it your visit to Kattegat was rather fruitful,” he said sneeringly, you rolled your eyes, even though Thoman’s a mere slave, he had became a good friend of yours in the few months that had passed  “Ubbe threatened me” you exclaimed, holding Hvitserk closer “I hope you answered him wisely, we need no enemies” you shrugged “I reminded him of my role in this kingdom, the provider” it only took few minutes for Lorenzo to come “my lady, the tub is filled and ready to be used” he informed, you nodded “Hvitserk dear, would you be kind and go with Lorenzo? He’ll help you wash” you told him ever so nicely, he shook his head no violently “Hvitserk please, you must clean or else you’ll get sick” you pleaded, but it only made him shake even more “would it be better if I’m the one who helps you instead?” 

The three of you waited for him to decide, and when he finally did, he did it with a simple nod, funny how Hvitserk was suddenly quiet, you’d beg him to stop talking before, he’d joke with the slaves, play with the animals, this place was his happy place yet he can’t seem to stand being in a room with anyone but you “alright then” you smiled a little and led the way to where the tub was, in a separated room, warmer room, Hvitserk eyed the slaves and you knew it must’ve been uncomfortable for him, you knew because you felt your arm being ripped off as one of them tried to help him undress “leave us” you requested, they obeyed.

You stood in front of Hvitserk, and lifted his head up a little “it’s alright, you’re safe with me, I won’t let anyone hurt you I promise” you assured him, taking off his clothes, piece by piece, he seemed rather numb, as sad as you are as glad as you are, you wanted him to remain this calm until you’re done cleaning him, you helped him into the tub which is filled with warm water, he sat down and hugged his legs “things changed, I have ten slaves now, you already met a few, they’re all nice and they teach me about their way, this they call a tub, makes washing easier, it has wheels to be dragged from that door, the water is used several ways, do you like it?” You asked as you leaned down and picked a piece of clothes, washing the dirt from his hair, from his face, you still didn’t get any comment from him.

Next, you cleaned his body, the best you could since he’s hugging himself, you convinced him to let loose of his legs eventually and cleaned that too, blushing when you came across his private area “I need my mushrooms, did you get them to bring some?” He finally asked while you were drying him off, he looked better than earlier now that he’s clean, more like the Hvitserk you once knew “they couldn’t find any, I’ll ask them to buy you some when they visit the town next time” you lied, the truth is, you were cutting him off, whether he liked it or not, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

You led the naked man back to the main room, where the women started blushing and the men looked away, Lorenzo stood there with clean clothes in his hands, you helped Hvitserk to put them on, combed his hair and sent him to sit next to the fireplace while you discussed few things with Thoman.

“Ubbe has his eyes on my land, I warned him I’d rather kill everyone in this farm and burn it before handing it to him, but Ubbe wouldn’t give up easily no, Thoman we need to work our defenses” you whispered to the older man, who had few white strikes on his brownish hair “I see that. I convinced the Thoranssons to sell us part of their land, expanding as we agreed, to plant more seeds and raise animals, also build an archery” he informed you nodded “I don’t mean to be rude but why did you bring him? He’s no good for us, he’s mad” he asked as he glanced at your warrior who was drying by the fire “two reasons Thoman, first one is because he’s my friend and he needs help, he helped us enough back in the day don’t you remember? It’s time we help him back, and second, Ubbe might hate me but he loves his brothers, he gave away his life for them, he wouldn’t hurt us once he knows Hvitserk is here” you replied, then glanced at him, curling to himself “I take it as the prince has no idea of where his brother is staying?” You nodded.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Tags: (let me know if you want to be tagged for this story) @youbloodymadgenius​ @lol-haha-joke​ @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg​ @moonlightsspirit​ @heavenly1927​ @supernaturalvikingwhore @fuck-i-cant-find-a-name

Images source: stolen from google images.

[thenightgazer]

A Dead Body Revenges No Injuries

It should’ve been another good time for Vergil and Lyra to read some books at The Literarium, but one of the guests is suddenly dead. The devil and the librarian must team up to find the truth, since the dead can’t tell tales and its body can’t revenge the injustice.

“He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore.”

-Sigmund Freud

--

Someone’s dead, and it wasn’t Vergil’s fault.

It’s Spring. It should’ve been the season of rebirth. It should’ve been a divine moment to be cherished, when the embroidery of colourful plants and calming breeze comes to life again. Everything blooms after enduring from winter for so long. A new beginning has come.

It was meant to be beautiful.

Everyone who strives after gain in the perishable world will necessarily come to regret it, at the time of separation and the moment of non-being.

The line from The Epistle of Forgiveness sums everything he had gained from his pursuit of power and it craved agonizingly in his heart. Weeks after learning and contemplating about what it means to forgive himself, Vergil finished his reading of the eschatological literature book and now it’s safely stored in his private bookshelf at his bedroom. It relieves him how easy to let go of his nightmares and it gives him a better sleep without the fear of any illusion anymore.

I’m intrigued by what a book and a little of miracle can do to a sinner like me.

It’s hard for him to think about book and miracle without thinking about Lyra.

Like a carousel, the thought about the witty librarian spins around Vergil’s head and that annoy him in the most unique way. He should’ve hate it, for that makes him oftenly distracted. If his head was a mind palace, Lyra would be the random variable that always pop out from nowhere in every thought that Vergil tried to focus on.

Yet he chooses to be here now—sitting on his usual corner at The Literarium and reading Lyra’s another recommendation; Beowulf. That remind him of the demon he once fought years ago with the same name. Such a disgrace for this masterpiece became the name of a filthy demon, he thinks. Beowulf was on Vergil’s reading list since he was a boy, but he never had a chance to fulfill his list until now. There’s a gleeful sensation everytime he reads the passages, feeling his inner child deep down inside him exclaiming in victory.

The hybrid glances at the woman who sits across him. Vergil has recommended Lyra to read The Turn of The Screw, since she’s fond of horror and mystery. He marginally surprises that there’s still people who hasn’t read this illustrious work of Henry James, even the bookish Lyra. The librarian’s eyes scan through the page seriously, examining every words. She has been quiet since 20 minutes ago without moving or even glancing at anything.

This view isn’t too bad, Vergil quietly grins.

He turns his focus back at his reading.

Beowulf is the oldest and longest epic poem with more 3000 lines long, written by an anonymous in Old English. Nobody knows for certain when the poem was first composed, but some scholars have suggested that the manuscript was made in the early 11th century, which makes the manuscript approximately 1000 years old. It exploits the tale of Beowulf and his battles with a monster and a dragon which was guarding a hoard of treasure. Basically a poem of hero who seeks for glory, Lyra said to him. That confuses him since Vergil doesn’t want to seek any glory at all, yet the librarian picked the book for him.

“I once defeated a demon named Beowulf,” Vergil says. “It was too easy.”

Lyra nods slowly without breaking her gaze from the book, “When?”

“Years ago, when I raised Temen-ni-gru. It was one of the demons that guarded the tower.”

“Uh-uh…” Lyra nods again. “Was the demon… look heroic like the fictional Beowulf?”

“Not at all. Too noisy. But I acquired a strong Devil Arm from its corpse. It wasn’t in my possession again since I jumped to Underworld.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Lyra mutters, “Oh, sad.”

Vergil holds himself to not rip off the book that steal the focus of his dear friend by bringing his cup to the receptionist table to refill his coffee. Since the end of winter, Mr Steiner gave a new instruction for the guest to refill their own cup at the receptionist table. We don’t want to intrude the guests when they read. Privacy matters, Lyra said. Though Vergil can’t comprehend why Mr Steiner didn’t give that policy since the first time he decided to serve free coffee. He nods to Nate, who gives him a friendly wave behind the table as he speaks on his phone. Vergil doesn’t have many interactions with him, but he tolerates Nate’s existence since the young man never get Vergil on his nerves.

When Vergil turns his back after get his refill, he almost bumps to two women who just entered the library.

“Sorry!” a woman in floral dress cheerfully apologises to him without giving Vergil a chance to reply. The other one who wears white dress and looks fragile smiles at him as an apology. They immediately join a blonde woman who sits at the Fiction reading section. They greet and hug each other like old friends, then starts chattering. The hybrid rolls his eyes at that sight and continue to walks to his corner, only to find that Lyra still fixates on her book.

I’m literally going to rip off that damn book.

“These people…” she murmurs suddenly.

“?”

“… are idiot.”

What?

“Why do they always following and calling the ghost around?” Lyra complains. “Like, I don’t get why people shout ‘Hello?’ everytime they see something.”

“Curiousity can be infuriating sometimes.” Vergil silently grins while opening the pages Beowulf again. He peeks over his book to see Lyra’s reaction—she glares at him like she realizes Vergil is being sarcastic to her own habit of curiousity.

They continue to read in peace. The doorbell rings, a sign that there’s another guest entering the library. When Vergil hears giggles and babbles from the women at Fiction, he knows that the new guest is their friend. Their steps are a little bit too loud for his enhanced ears, but thankfully it’s soon over as the women go to take their seats and lower their voices.

Once again, all is well, at least for the next five minutes.

Because now Vergil catches coughing sound from the Fiction section.

The sound is getting worse until Vergil has to look up to see who interferes his seclusion. It’s the same floral-dressed woman who apologised to him earlier. The woman excuses herself to the toilet. Even with Vergil’s enhanced senses, he can hear the cough turns into vomit.

“You might want to ask your customer if she’s alright,” Vergil grumbles.

Lyra put down her book and glances at the toilet, “I should never let Nate to brew the coffee again.”

She leaves her chair as the woman comes out from the toilet, still coughing. Her breath is rougher as she grabs her chest hard, like she’s suffocating.

“Clarissa? What happened?” the blonde woman approaches her and tries to lead her back to her seat.

“I’ll get water.” Lyra hurries herself to the office after exchanging words with Nate to look after the woman, Clarissa.

“Is she alright?” Nate asks panicly after spotting rashes on Clarissa’s skin.

“Of course she’s not!”

“Did she eat something weird before she came here?”

“Do I look like I know?!”

But Clarissa never make it to her seat. She collapses.

The scream gets louder as Vergil immediately stands up to approach the crowd. The woman’s friends are too scared to even touch their poor friend. Clarissa’s face turns blue as her body convules greatly.

Cardiac arrest?

There’s a sound of broken cup. “Clarissa!!”

Before everyone could even make any movement, the tremble stops. The woman’s eyes dilate before it stops moving again.

Vergil can sense the life is leaving her body.

“OH GOD WHAT’S HAPPENING?”

“Someone help her please!”

“Call the cop! Now!”

Police?

But Vergil’s suspicion elapses as he spots Lyra.

In the middle of the tragedy, tears, screams and panic, he watches Lyra who’s standing not too far from the crowd. She brings a glass of water on her right hand, yet something’s off.

The hybrid’s direct experience with human emotions might not quite much, but he knows something about human emotion in hysteria. These people are in panic situation, they’re all consume with sadness and can’t even think clearly. All those emotions can affect human’s body. Panic can cause tremor to their body. Sadness can cause their tears stream down on their faces. Disgust and disbelief can make them feel nauseous.

But the librarian stands still. The hysteria affects nothing to her. The water in the glass doesn’t move, not in the slightest.

For a human, her calmness on this situation is… disturbing.

Vergil tries to deny the chill in his spine when he brushes off Lyra’s emotionless reaction from his head.

--

The ambulance and police are already in the library. Nate flips the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Close’. The library is supposed to be a peaceful palace, but today it turns to be a nightmare for him. He has been a librarian in The Literarium for years, but he never imagined that someday he’ll see a guest die in front of him. This is shocking, of course. They’re already send Clarissa’s corpse to the morgue to be examined. Polices are busy doing investigation and asking witnesses. This fuss makes Nate almost having a nervous breakdown.

“Hey, Lyra,” he calls Lyra who’s standing beside him. “What did the cop ask you?”

She shrugs, “Standard things like where was I when it happened, how was the victim’s state before she collapsed.”

“They asked me the same thing. Man, I feel like we’re in some kinda crime movies.”

“Ah, they also asked me who made the coffee.”

“What?”

“I said it was you. Didn’t they ask you about the coffee?”

“Not a word! God, they’ll suspect me!”

“Relax, Nate. We drank from the same coffee pot and we’re alive. If there’s someone to blame, it must be her friends.”

Nate lets out a relief sigh, “You’re right. Anyway, is it okay with your friend? He looks like he will kill the cop who interrogates him.”

“To be fair, he always look like he wants to kill someone.”

“Yeah that. To be honest, your boyfriend scares the hell out of me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No shit!”

“What?”

“Dammit Lyra! Don’t you notice the way he look at you all this time?!”

“Don’t talk out loud next to my ear, Nate. You’ll lower my IQ. And no, we’re friends. He already has a son.”

“So what? Did he tell you he has a wife?”

“… as far as I can remember, no.”

“Then you are more than legal to be his girlfriend!”

Lyra gives him a disbelief look, “Shame on you, Nathaniel Steiner. Your father took a long holiday and entrusted you this library, yet you’re gossiping in the middle of someone’s death!”

“So what?! Honestly, I have a good feeling about this. Imagine this case spread to the whole city, it will attract more guests to come! And don’t try to change the subject!”

It’s no use for Lyra to reply Nate’s babble. She rolls her eyes in boredom, leaning herself on the wall. A smile curve on her lips when she sees Vergil’s interrogation is done as the hybrid approaches her. She can tell he’s in his cranky mood—the crease on his forehead crumples and he looks like he’s ready to use his sword anytime to stab anyone.

“Bad day, isn’t it?” Lyra greets him.

“You bet it is.”

“Did you tell them that you’re a devil hunter?” Lyra whispers after Nate excuses himself and gives Lyra a mischievous wink.

“Of course not,” the half-devil grunts. “I told them that I’m a delivery man. That’s the safest fake occupation for mercenaries, since any higher and crucial occupation requires too much further identification.”

Lyra bursts in laugh, “I pity that police. He seems scared to even look at you.”

“That I didn’t beheaded him should tell my effort to spare his life.”

“Well… that’d be more corpse to clean.”

Vergil has to admit that he’s confused with Lyra’s drastic mannerism. The woman who stands beside him is the Lyra he knows all this time, unlike the woman who stood still with soulless face an hour ago. Was she just shock to see a corpse in front of her? But she looks calm and even unbothered with the fact that there’s someone died in the library. Since Vergil is a hybrid, he can easily sense people or demon’s anatomy and micro expression better than normal human. It almost impossible to fool him. Yet with Lyra, it’s useless.

From the tail of his eyes, he quietly observes her saying something about the polices and the women.

“They’re weird,” she comments. “What’s the use of calling police? Shouldn’t they call ambulance first instead?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about.”

“Really? But seriously, I was going to call ambulance before she shouted. I think it’s the first thing to do if you find someone who suddenly collapse.”

“Unless it wasn’t an accident.”

“… could it be murder?”

“Probably.”

Vergil can use his supersenses and his prodigious knowledges to find the perpetrator, but he’s not in the position to easily do the investigation. He’s son of Sparda, older twin brother of Dante the infamous Legendary Devil Hunter. Any reckless movement can reveal Vergil’s true identity. While Dante is proud of his reputation all over the world, Vergil doesn’t share the same excitement. He prefers to keep on low profile, invisible from public. Clearly, going to and fro to investigate won’t be his best choice at the moment.

“You could just go, you know, the moment they called police,” Lyra says. “You said you don’t want anyone knows that you’re a son of… that war hero.”

“And that I am.”

“Why are you still here then?”

“Can’t let a friend facing adversity on her own.”

“All I need to do is just cooperating and let the police do the hard work. It isn’t really an adversity.”

“Call it what you want. I know you’re aware of the anomality in this case.”

Lyra giggles, “You got me there.”

The hybrid sighs and cross his hands on the chest, “From what I can sense through those women, I have my own hunch.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I think one of them has something to do with Clarissa Watson’s death. All of them are anxious and terrified, but their behaviors are unusual, like they keep something from the police.”

Lyra watches the three women; The blonde woman is the one who shouted to call the police. Her face shows a great grief, but surprisingly her behavior is unnaturally calm. While the woman in white dress is constantly crying since Clarissa’s death. The last woman, who has red hair and looks older than the other women, is the one who seemingly the most normal between them. She cries, but still manages to calming the other two women.

“Miss Martha Ventham,” Lyra points the blonde woman. “Mrs Holly Smith,” her fingers points the red-haired woman who Vergil assumes is the one who comes late, because he hasn’t seen that woman before. Then Lyra turns her finger to the woman in white dress. “And that’s Miss Elena Roberts.”

“How did you know their names?”

“I’m a librarian, Vergil. I have records of everyone who visited this library.”

“Or maybe you were eavesdropping when they were interrogated.”

Vergil doesn’t even have to look at Lyra’s mischievous smirk to see that his words are all true. “Typical.”

“Tell me Vergil, can hybrids die because of poison?”

“No. Our bodies have demonic immune to any kind of viruses, bacterias, and poisons. In a huge amount, we can still get hurt by the pathogen and poison, but it won’t critically damage us. We would heal eventually.”

“So… hypothetically speaking, poison won’t have effect on you.”

“True. But I presume your insane idea of having me drink Clarissa Watson’s coffee to make sure whether it’s poisoned or not isn’t really hypothetical for you, am I right?”

“I… haven’t even say a word—but yes! It takes time for the police to decide whether this is accident or murder. Look, they haven’t sent the forensic team.”

“… you’re right. It’ll take too much time to wait for the forensic team, if this is really a murder.”

“So, let’s split up, shall we? You go collect some evidences. Let me do the most difficult part.”

“Which is?”

Lyra glances at the group of grieving women. “Socializing, of course.”

--

It’s quite hard to tip toe and get away from the sight of the police, but Vergil has a practical idea. He leans his back on the wall, pretending to be bored, while quietly sends his doppelganger to investigate the crime scene. He measures his energy to make the doppelganger as transparent as possible to be unnoticed. With this, he doesn’t have to be directly hanging around the crime scene and catching any attentions.

From his doppelganger, he can see the Fiction section is already empty from officers, but they keep the place as it is for now to be further examined by the forensic team. Vergil’s doppelganger passes through the police line and spots three cups of coffee on the table, along with four books beside each coffees. One cup is shattered under the table, leaving stains of the coffee on the floor. He remembers the woman in the white dress, Elena Roberts, dropped the cup out of shock. That remind him of Elena’s dramatic behavior—she can’t stop crying and sobbing to the point Vergil finds it unusual. It looks like she’s very close with Clarissa, since she takes Clarissa’s death like the end of the world.

His focus turns to the cups on the round table with four chairs. Vergil remembers their seat positions. Clarissa was sitting between Elena and Martha Ventham. That makes it almost impossible for Holly Smith to do anything suspicious, since her seat was right in front of Clarissa’s. But that doesn’t mean she’s free from suspicion. She was the latest person to join the group. The doppelganger shadowy fingers touch the books on the table; Pride and Prejudice on Holly’s side, The Language and Poetry of Flowers on Clarissa’s, The Great Gatsby on Elena’s, and I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings on Martha’s. There are no sign of unusal things from the books. No dust, no stain or anything, but it’s important for Vergil to take notes at everything because it can be useful.

Now the coffee. Aside from the broken cup, the other cups are all half-emptied. Poison might have no effect on him, but he has a profound knowledge of toxicology and can recognize it if there’s any poison in the cups. He examines the cups, even the broken one, but find nothing unusual. If there’s poison inside the coffee, even the doppelganger can smell it. 

But why did Martha Ventham insisted to call the police?

Thinking the crime scene is clear, Vergil almost send off the doppelganger to spy the police before he catches Nate stares at the doppelganger dreadly. His eyes and mouth are wide open as if he sees a ghost. Technically, the doppelganger is a spectral created from Vergil’s demonic power. From human eyes, it could be seen as a ghost.

Poor man will never forget this haunting moment.

Nate holds his breath and fasten his steps away after the doppelganger vanishes.

Vergil grins in amusement. It’s funny to see people afraid of something they don’t understand yet.

--

“Clarissa was a good person. The kindest one. I’ve never thought…” Holly Smith sighs as her teary eyes meet Lyra’s. “I just can’t believe…”

“Did she have a heart problem?” Lyra asks, wrapping Holly’s hand with her own hand. “The way she collapsed, I think she—you know…”

“She had mild arrhythmia. Usually it’s not dangerous. I don’t know, she was just fine—completely fine before it happened. She still laughed with us. But then she said she had a sudden headache and nausea. I thought she would be okay after she vomited but…”

“Poor lady… did she take her medicine today?”

“I don’t know.  I just saw her drinking her coffee. I know because I sat right in front of her. She usually took digoxin to stabilized her heartbeat. I guess she forgot to take her medicine or she had too much dose of it, who knows…”

“I see… that must be horrible,” Lyra mutters sympathetically. “How long have you known Miss Watson?”

“About three years. She was my wedding’s florist. She was all lovely and kind. Her customers adore her. It’s hard to dislike such a person.”

“It must be hard for you and your friends.”

“Of course… but I can’t imagine how Elena’s and Martha’s feelings… they were close with Clarissa since high school.”

Well, that’s new. “The police said you were the last one to join the group.”

“Yes, I need to check my husband first before I came here. He got lung cancer and need to be hospitalized.”

“When you arrived, did you see anything unusual from your friends?”

“Unusual…? No, no. At first I didn’t see them because I took my coffee first, then I spotted their bags and cups on the Fiction section, so I put my coffee and my bag there and searched them between the shelves. I found Clarissa and joined her to browse a book.”

Holly lowers her voice. “I have to say… I—I don’t how to put it into words… but Clarissa told me that she had an argument with Elena before they came here. She didn’t exactly tell me the details and I didn’t ask her further because they seemed to have resolved their problem. It must be hard for Elena to take this matter. I can understand why she cries like that, you know, you fought with your best friend and a minute later you found out she’s dead.”

The librarian nods. “Your voice is getting sore, Mrs Smith. I’ll get you water.”

“Thank you.”

Lyra walks to the office, quickly pour water inside three glasses. She contemplates on Holly’s words. She had arrhythmia. Could that be the main cause of the death? But arrhythmia is generally not too dangerous as long as the patient regularly takes their medicine in appropriate dose as prescribed by doctor. Perhaps she took too much of it? Or maybe one of them intentionally gave the wrong dose? Since the police hasn’t declare the result of the autopsy yet, it will be difficult to find out the true cause of Clarissa’s death.

Lyra lifts the tray and passes Vergil, giving him an understanding smile. The hybrid gives her a sly smirk in return. Lyra spots a subtle of his demonic power around the police. It seems that Vergil uses his doppelganger to eavesdrop the police. And he called me typical? That sly devil.

“Here you go, Mrs Smith.” Lyra gives Holly Smith a glass of water.

“Thank you. You’re so kind.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lyra excuses herself and approaches the other two women who sit a bit far from Holly Smith. Elena Roberts is still crying, leaning her head on Martha Ventham’s shoulder. Lyra presents the water on the table in front of them and take a seat beside Martha.

“My condolences for your loss,” Lyra says.

“Thank you,” Martha sobs. “We’re sorry for causing commotion here.”

“It’s alright.”

Elena drinks the water almost hurriedly before she sobs again. “I-I can’t b-believe—Clarissa was just fine when we were heading here—we knew this library from internet and we thought it would be nice if the four of us v-visit—“

“I know, dear, I know.” Martha pats Elena’s shoulder.

“I—I need to get out for a while. I can’t stand it—“

“Of course, Miss Roberts.” Lyra answers politely.

Martha helps her friend to stand up as she and Lyra watch her walks shakily outside the library and closes the door abruptly.

“Elena is always the most sensitive between us,” Martha explains as she wipes her teary eyes with handkerchief. “She can cry almost all the time if something touches her heart deeply.”

Lyra nods in understanding, “I can understand her feeling.”

“All of this… is just… unexpected. We were here to having fun. I came early because I was too excited to meet my friends again. Clearly I never expected to see my best friend died in front of me. She didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Did she show any kind of sickness before she collapsed?”

“No. Not at all. As I said, I came here first, then we browsed the book together. About ten minutes later, Holly joined us. Nothing happened before Clarissa suddenly coughed and… you know the rest of the story.”

“Mrs Smith told me that Miss Watson was a florist.”

“Ah, yes! She was a proficient florist. She had a flower shop at Carrington Street. She loved flowers as it was her own soul. Since our graduation from high school, she always wanted to be a florist.”

“By the way, Miss Ventham, I need your opinion, since you think there’s something wrong with this case.”

Martha’s eyes are narrowed, “What do you mean I think there’s something wrong with this?”

“You shouted to call the police. Then you must know that something’s off. Otherwise, you would call the ambulance first instead of police.”

Martha gulps as she straighten her back. It’s obvious that she knows something. She scans through the room, making sure that no one will hear them before she whispers to Lyra, “It’s personal. I can’t tell the cop because Clarissa made me promised that I won’t tell everyone. But I feel like I have to call them, see if they found something suspicious from her death.”

Lyra nods as she wraps her hand on Martha’s, giving her reassurance, “I know that promise is a sacred thing. It just… I’m afraid police will get suspicious to you, Miss Ventham. Everyone has already witnessed that you’re the one who shouted to call the police. And to be very honest, that’s a rather suspicious thing to do. The police might have come to their conclusion that you have something to do with Miss Watson’s death.”

“For the love of God, no!” Martha’s whisper sounds desperate. “I won’t ever hurt my best friend! Nonsense!”

“Then you must tell your own story about this… a small thing to help the police to finish this case, and who knows it might help you free your worries.”

Martha considers Lyra’s words seriously. She closes her face with her palms, feeling extremely drained and frustrated. She takes a deep breath and murmurs, “Clarissa said she was blackmailed.”

“Blimey!”

“A week ago, she asked me to come to her house. She sounded terrified. She told me there was a bouquet of dark crimson roses at the front door of the house. I saw the bouquet; it was so dark that it almost like black roses. You know, in the language of flowers, black rose means—“

“Death.”

Martha slowly nods, “Exactly. I was going to tell Elena and Holly, but Elena was still in grief because she recently had miscarriage and Holly’s husband is hospitalized. Besides, Clarissa made me promised to not telling this to anyone. After the day she received the bouquet, nothing happened until today. I wish… I wish I could prevent her death. This madness drives me mad to think that Holly might be the one who threatened her, because she has a garden of roses at her house and she was jealous for Clarissa’s attention to her husband when she visited him at the hospital. But Clarissa was always kind to everyone! I know it was just a blinded accusation. It just a crazy thought in crazy situation. Holly is my friend. I should’ve never pointed my finger at her.”

She wipes her eyes again, “I’m sorry. I think you’re right. I should tell the police about this. It’s no use anymore to keep it as secret. At least this is the only thing I can do to help Clarissa.”

“I hope your testimony will help to finish this case.”

“Thank you. Anyway, would you do me a favour to look after Elena while I talk to the cop? She can’t be let alone or she would making scene.”

“Sure thing, Miss Ventham.”

“Thank you so much.”

Lyra’s eyes follow Martha’s steps as she heads out from the library. She suspects the police will change their direction of the investigation after they hear Martha’s explanation. She watches Nate gives a cigarette to Elena Roberts as they smoke together.

“Nate!” Lyra greets her co-worker. “I was looking for you!”

Nate blows the smoke out from his mouth, “I need to evacuate myself outta that hellish building.”

“Why so?”

“I saw a ghost! A real ghost!”

Lyra snorts. He must’ve seen Vergil’s doppelganger. “Nate, you work with your father for almost your entire life at this library. I work here for only two years, and I never saw any ghosts.”

“Ouch, that hurts! You don’t believe me, right? Then wait for your turn to be haunted by that frigging transparent ghost.”

“You’re exhausted, Nate. Relax.” Lyra approaches Elena Roberts who says nothing since Lyra’s arrival. “Miss Roberts? Are you alright? Your friends are waiting for you.”

Elena Roberts looks weary as she lets the smoke out from her mouth. Her makeup looks messy. It must be a horrific burden for her, to had miscarriage and the death of her best friend all of sudden.

“I-I’m sorry…” she sobs. “This is too much for me…”

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry… I broke the cup.” She mutters and wipe her tears. “I don’t know what to do. I saw her and—and I still can’t believe it!”

“It’s fine, Missy. A cup is replaceable.” Nate tries to cheer her up.

“I regret that I had a fight with her before we went to this library. But it was all over. We apologized and we made fun of our earlier argument. Everything came back to normal. It was all fine.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I heard from the police you had miscarriage, and now your friend…”

Nate coughes as he drops his cigarette, “—dammit! I’m so sorry, Missy. Couldn’t imagine how hard it’s all for you.”

Elena nods and gives him a weak smile, “Thank you. It was just a month ago, and now my friend died in front of me. I must be cursed!”

“I believe it just an unfortunate event.” Lyra says.

“Then why do these miserable things happened to me? They all left me—my baby, my fiancé, my best friend! She was just fine when I picked her up, even when we arrived and browsing books along with Martha before Holly joined us. Then after she drank the fucking coffee—for Christ’s sake!”

Lyra and Nate exchange a pitiful look.

Elena begins to tremble again and panicly holds Lyra’s hand. “Martha brought us our coffee because she came here first. My heart tells me it was her doing. Who knows she put something to our cups? Clarissa told me that Martha borrowed a large amount of money from her to pay Martha’s rent, but she hasn’t pay it while Clarissa needed her money to return. Yet Martha scolded her for being arrogant and heartless! I know it must be Martha! That greedy, ungrateful bit—!”

“Whoa, whoa, Missy! Calm yourself down! You’re not serious with your words, right? It’s your friend we’re talking about!” Nate cuts the accusation.

Elena starts to sob again. “Oh God… what have I done?”

Nate gives her a cigarette again to calm herself down. Lyra decides to leave them alone because it seems like she has all the necessary informations from the women. She enters the library and walks to the Rare section where Vergil is already waiting for her.

--

“The forensic team comes to take samples on the crime scene,” Vergil says. “Because they found out cardiac glycosides inside Clarissa Watson’s blood, and they assume it could be murder.”

“According to Mrs Smith, Miss Watson had arrhythmia. It explains why her blood contained cardiac glycoside. She took digoxin regularly.”

“That I know. But they also found a large amount of some glycosides from convallaria majalis plant inside her blood.”

“Convalla—you mean that lily of the valley flower?“

“Correct. All parts of the plant contains at least 38 known cardiac glycosides. Convallaria has been used to treat congestive heart failure and some types of arrhythmias. However, the safe amount of lily of the valley is still debatable and if ingested in uncontrolled dosages, the effects on the human heart can be catastrophic.” 

“So... if combined with digoxin...” 

“It will cause more irregular heartbeats and increase the side effects of those glycosides. And there’s more than that. The plant contains non-protein amino acid called Azetidine-2-carboxylic acid. It’s incredibly toxic to humans even in small doses. Misincorporation of that acid into humans proteins can alter collagen, keratin, hemoglobin, and protein folding. Basically it changes human body function on a molecular level.”

“... that’s a terrible way to die.” Lyra contemplates. “Miss Watson was a florist. She must had a bunch of lily of the valley at her shop. It could explain why there’s convallatoxin inside her blood. But I think it’s impossible for a florist to do reckless thing such as intentionally consume lily of the valley.”

“Then it leads us to one conclusion; someone intentionally poisoned her. This person knows her illness and the medication she was taking regularly. But that’s the problem. I found nothing in Watson’s cup. It’s just a coffee.”

“Oh, bugger!”

“Miss Lyra Clayton?”

Lyra looks up to see the man who calls her. It looks like the man is from the forensic team, “Yes?”

“I’d like to ask your permission to collect the coffee cups as the evidence to be examined.”

Lyra smiles politely, “Of course.”

The officer hurries himself to join his team to the crime scene.

“Clayton,” Vergil emphasizes. “All these months, you never told me your surname.”

“Is that important now?”

The hybrid shrugs, “At least you could tell me.”

He looks adorable when he’s sulking like that. “Alright then. My name is Lyra Clayton. Nice to meet you.”

“I didn’t ask you to re-introduce yourself.”

“Well, I’m just emphasizing my name to you.”

“… I prefer your first way to introduce yourself.”

“With a riddle? For real? I thought you hate riddles!”

“It just seems natural,” Vergil looks away. “I just… I don’t like the idea of not knowing you entirely.”

“…”

“Nevermind,” he blurts. “Now tell me what you find from those women.”

She tells him everything, from Clarissa’s illness to the women’s personal problems and accusations to each other. Vergil keeps silent throughout the librarian’s explanation. He almost think that maybe this was a mere accident, that maybe Clarissa Watson accidentally consumed lily of the valley. But that sounds forced and too… incidental. The timing, the place, the blackmail that Clarissa received a week ago, the mental condition of Clarissa’s friends… It just not right.

Vergil recalls his memories of the broken cup. He didn’t taste the coffee—of course it’s humiliating to lick the coffee stain on the floor. He’s not a mindless animal. Yet he believes he saw something. Not unusual, but quite noticeable and looks completely normal.

“… none of them wear red lipstick.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I think it’s normal for women to wear lipstick.”

“Sure. It’s normal. I wear it sometimes too. What is it, Vergil?”

“It just… strange.”

“Why so?”

“The broken cup. There’s a red lipstick mark on it. I remember Clarissa Watson wore red lipstick. That makes it possible to someone to switch their own cup with Watson’s cup without raising any suspicion. Each of them are not always sit still to read, sometimes they searched for a book at another section or refill their cups. And when Watson collapsed, they switched back the cups and dropped it on purpose; to erase the suspicion.”

“But the police must’ve found the poison container already when they searched their belongings.”

“… you’re right.”

“But I agree with you. They all are suspect now. But first, we need to find the container. That’s the only way to find out the true killer. They have motives. Money problem, jealousy, and the unknown argument… Their accusations towards each other are not reliable.”

“All of them had a chance to put the poison. We need to look closer to their motives and the remaining evidences.”

Vergil sighs frustratedly and turns his head to the group of women. The case shows the light at the end of the tunnel, but they haven’t reach its end. They need to find the evidence; the poison container, if it really existed. The container must be still with one of them. But what could it be? Who brought it?

“The necklace.” Lyra murmurs.

“Pardon?”

“The necklace is gone. See?”

Ah.

Foolishness, Vergil. How could you miss that?

--

MURDER IN THE LIBRARY

Clarissa Watson (35), a florist and owner of Persephone Flower Shop died after collapsing at The Literarium, a small local library at Michelangelo Street on 11 March. The police declared that Watson’s death was caused by lily of the valley (convallaria majalis) poisoning. The library served free coffee and the cardiac glycosides from the lily of the valley flower was found inside Watson’s cup. According to the police, Watson had arrhythmia and she had to take digoxin regularly. With the digoxin combined with convallatoxin, both cardiac glycosides lead her to death. It was revealed that her friend, Elena Roberts (35) was the one who poured the poison inside Watson’s coffee. To cover her action, she dropped Watson’s cup that she switched earlier to erase the evidence when Watson collapsed.

At first, Roberts objected that she was too panic and can’t think clearly while dropping Watson’s cup, thinking it was her own cup. She also claimed she didn’t possess the poison. It was revealed that Roberts’s fingerprints are also appeared on the broken cup. The police also found Robert’s necklace from her clothes. The necklace contained residue of liquid convallaria majalis inside its removable tube-shaped pendant.

According to another of Watson’s friends who were present at the moment, Martha Ventham (35) and Holly Smith (37), Roberts was depressed because of her recent miscarriage. Roberts herself finally admitted that she thought Watson took part of her miscarriage by giving her chamomile and ginger tea when she visited Watson’s house three weeks ago. Roberts didn’t know she was pregnant until the miscarriage happened. She claimed she was devastated and it was hard for her to not blame Watson for the miscarriage. She put a bouquet of dark crimson roses at Watson’s house a week before this tragedy happened as a threat that she could never forget Watson’s mistake. Ventham confirmed this statement since she saw the bouquet when Watson told her about the blackmail, but she never thought that it was Roberts who sent it.

“Clarissa made me promised to shut my mouth about it,” Ventham stated. “But when she collapsed, I remember that bouquet and I couldn’t help myself to not call the police. Something’s wrong, and I have to find the truth for Clarissa’s sake”. Smith also confirmed that Watson and Roberts had an argument before their arrival at the library. It was then revealed that Roberts confronted Watson about the miscarriage, but Watson denied it.

Roberts said that the idea of murder just popped on her head  since two weeks ago and she chose lily of the valley because it was Watson’s favourite flower.

“Lily of the valley means return of happiness” Roberts stated. “I know because Clarissa told me that. I thought with her death by her own favourite flower, it would return my happiness after I lost my baby, but I can only feel nothing. I lost everything, and maybe I deserve that.”

 12 March, 02:00 pm

Lyra closes the newspaper and turns her eyes to Vergil, who continues to read Beowulf, “Do chamomile really can cause miscarriage?”

The hybrid grumbles, “Do I look like I’m capable to answer that?”

“You know, it’s rude to answer question with question.”

Vergil grunts. “All I know about miscarriage that it could happened by many factors. Too much chamomile might trigger the miscarriage, but that’s not always the case.”

Lyra nods slowly as she puts the newspaper down and picks up The Turn of The Screw. “At least that explains Miss Roberts’s over-dramatic reaction. I guess she feels guilty after murdering her friend, realizing that it was all to late and she can’t redo everything. But we can never really blame her frustration. She wasn’t in the right state of mind.”

“It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning,” Vergil recites the line from Beowulf. “It’s strange what human could do in devastation.”

“Yeah, such as stabbing themselves with a magic sword and split them into two different beings.”

Lyra laughs when Vergil gives her his usual deadly glare.

“Well, at least we have more customers thanks to Miss Roberts,” Lyra chuckles as she observes the guests. “Nate was right about that. Though Mr Steiner stopped giving free coffee. No more murder in the library, he said.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t look happy.”

“I don’t have to smile like Joker to tell you that I’m happy.”

“You’re funny guy, you know that?”

“Don’t call me funny.”

“And you’re the best partner in crime!”

“Silence.”

Even though Vergil dismisses her words harshly, Lyra still can see the subtle warm smile on Vergil’s lips. She flips the page of The Turn of The Screw and tell herself to finish the book today. There’s a long pause before she realizes that Vergil stares at her with unreadable expression. Uncomfortable with that kind of gaze, Lyra chuckles, “You know it’s rude to stare, right?”

“Pardon me. I was just trying to recall.”

“Of what?”

“Remind me again, what did exactly you tell the police once we found out the disappearance of Elena Roberts’ necklace?”

“Well… as we agreed, I told the police that Miss Roberts’ necklace could be the evidence they’ve looked for. As we know, the necklace has a tube pendant which could contains approximately 1-2 ml of liquid inside it. It was odd that she suddenly removed the necklace out of the blue, for we know she wore it since her arrival here with Miss Watson. It was a gamble, but the police confirmed that the tube contained residue of convallatoxin. It was easy for Miss Roberts to pour the poison inside Miss Watson’s cup and quickly removed the necklace right before she joined them to browse the books. We know that Mrs Smith might have turned to be the suspect since she was the latest to join the group, so she didn’t have any chance to witness Miss Roberts’ position before her arrival and she sat at her chair first to put her coffee on the table before she joined her group.”

“And Martha Ventham had witnessed that Holly Smith has a garden of roses at her house, which could indicated that she was the one who brought the bouquet of dark crimson roses as a threat to Clarissa Watson.”

“Correct. That strengthen Miss Roberts’ alibi.”

“So all the pieces of puzzle was collected,” Vergil leans forward and taps his fingers on the table. “But there’s a major plot hole.”

Lyra tilts her head, “And what is that?”

Vergil deeply gazes at Lyra’s eyes, his voice is almost gentle. “How did you know that Elena Roberts wore the necklace since the first of her arrival?”

Vergil has read too much micro-expressions and even if just a slightest, he can senses a fight-or-flight instinct from the librarian as her face turns pale and her eyes dilate before she quickly collects her self-control and pretending to be confused with Vergil’s question.

“Because I saw it. Don’t we all, Vergil?”

“I saw the necklace because she and Clarissa Watson almost bumped at me near the receptionist table. When the murder happened, the necklace was already gone. You were reading seriously all the time before you stood up to get some water for Clarissa Watson when she vomited at the toilet. That means Elena Roberts had already poured the poison before that moment happened and she already hid her necklace. Panic and sadness consumed them all and that made them unaware of menial thing like a necklace.” Vergil stops his finger’s movement. “In conclusion, Lyra, you never saw the necklace. But somehow you recognized the disappearance of the necklace. How did you know that?”

“I… asked her friends, of course.”

“That would be invalid, because they must’ve suspected it too and would immediately confronted her about the necklace, or at least they would report it to the police. But no, they all gathered up and crying for the loss of their best friend.”

That statement edges Lyra to her loss. She sighs deeply in defeat, looking around her like she’s making sure that no one heard their conversation. She slowly bites her lips and looking at Vergil’s eyes, seriously considering something.

The hybrid knows this is the time he finally get his answer for his long unsettling feeling to Lyra. He waits patiently all these months to find out, even hoping for Lyra to tell him in person. When he said that he dislikes to not knowing anything about her yesterday, he means it and deep down he wishes Lyra to understand it. It’s obvious that he likes her a little too much, but there’s still a border between them that he finds it hard to completely trust her.

I want to trust you.

“Stardust,” he lowers his voice. “You accept me for who I really am. You consider me as your friend despite my flaws. Please understand that I intend to do so to you.”

The feeling of grateful and relief fill his heart when Lyra finally nods in agreement at him. Her smile blooms again, now it’s brighter and sincere than her first fake smile. She still has her own doubt, but finally she takes a deep breath and grins.

“You’re right, it’s not fair. You told me everything and I’ll return the favor. I believe you can keep it a secret.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

She giggles.

“My head is full of ghosts,” Lyra says. “It’s a metaphor, because it sounds like whispers, then it turns into pictures.”

What’s she talking about?

“I don’t remember since when I possess this, nor how I acquired it. It just happened automatically. It’s… mostly frustrating. It mentally drains me, to know things I should not and never want to know. At least before I met you. Whenever you’re around me, it’s always stop. It goes normal just like everyone else doing. You don’t know how relieved I am to be with you. You stop the ghosts.”

“I am honoured,” Vergil says. “But I’m afraid I still don’t follow—”

“I can’t read your mind, Vergil.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the thing, because I always can read everyone’s mind, whether it’s humans or demons. But not you, and not when you’re around me. It seems like your presence disables my ability. But yesterday, when I touched those women’s hands, I realized that I still able to read mind when you’re around if I touch them. Now you know how I recognized Miss Roberts’ necklace, as well as the fact I know that she’s the killer all along. But I can’t just tell you all informations I acquired from her head. That’s why I have to discuss it with you. To guide you to the answer.”

Ah. The realization comes to Vergil’s head. She’s a telepath.

The librarian touches Vergil’s hand and grab it softly. It surprises him and he almost pull his hand off, but he restrains himself. He won’t lose to his own fear of physical contacts.

Slowly, she releases Vergil’s hand. “Yet… even if I touch you like this, I still see nothing. I wonder if it’s Sparda’s protection on you. I don’t dare forcing myself to look inside your head. I fear that would make you aware of my ability. Besides, I respect your privacy. I see too much. That’s why I like it when you’re with me. You give me solitude.”

I was wrong all this time. The voidness that Vergil always see whenever he watches Lyra’s eyes is the burden of the eyes that see too much. The eyes that exhausted and always wander to find peace and calmness. Sometimes it’s hard to see the truth behind the unfamiliar eyes, especially the eyes like hers. But now he understands the meaning of it. Vergil knows that knowledge can be a curse—she suffers silently with her ability to read mind.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he states. “You should’ve tell me earlier.”

“I thought it would make you uncomfortable.”

Nonsense. Of course I won’t feel uncomfortable whenever I’m with you.

“Will you try to read my mind again?” he asks.

“I told you already, I can’t. I’ve tried.”

Vergil reaches out his hand, “Just try it. I will allow you to read what’s on my mind at the moment.”

Lyra grabs his hand and trying to focus on Vergil’s head instead of his icy, alluring eyes. At first she gets nothing, just a static darkness, then she sees some blurry images that she can’t perceived. It seems that whatever protection in Vergil’s mind, it will endure itself if Vergil allows it, but although Lyra tries her best to clear her vision, the pictures are getting hazy, in fact, the more she tries to break Vergil’s mind, the darker it goes.

Then she hears it. It’s not quite like Vergil’s voice, more like a brainwave, but she can clearly interprets the meaning, and that makes her smile gets wider as she realizes that Vergil also awares of her presence inside his mind.

‘Our minds are connected!’ she exclaims.

Vergil still tries to adjust the new experience, ‘This is… curious. Have you done this before?’

‘No. This is the first time. Must be enchanced by the power of Sparda, eh?’

‘Could be.’

‘This is wicked!’

‘Even without opening your mouth, you’re still a chatterbox.’

‘And you’re still a grumpy devil.’

A sudden thought comes up from Vergil’s mind, but he hastily holds himself before Lyra could interpret it. That breaks their mind connection. He seems flustered, gripping his book tightly. Knowing that Vergil hides something, Lyra eyes the hybrid in front of her in a playful manner.

“You know no one can hear us, Vergil.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then you know I won’t tell it out loud, whatever thought you just hold before. I’m the only one who can hear you.”

“That’s precisely why I won’t tell you.”

Lyra shrugs and pick up her book again. For a moment they don’t talk to each other. But when Lyra almost finishes her book, her head jolts a little as she receives a thought from Vergil.

‘Places among the stars,

Soft gardens near the sun,

Keep your distant beauty;

Shed no beams upon my weak heart.

Since she is here

In a place of blackness,

Not your golden days

Nor your silver nights

Can call me to you.

Since she is here

In a place of blackness,

Here I stay and wait.’

Vergil gives her a quick glance and small grin after Lyra nods to him as a confirmation that she gets what he thinks. She knows that Vergil has a hard time to uttering his feelings and prefers to recite poems as his odd way to express whatever inside his mind and his heart. She knows that the poem isn’t exactly what Vergil wanted to tell her earlier, but she knows that this is the other way to tell her his intention. It’s still too subtle for her, but the poem warms her heart. It’s like a promise that Vergil will keep her secret and he accepts her the way she is, not even asking how could she possesses such a power, for Lyra is just a human.

Because Vergil will wait for her, and perhaps Lyra should never underestimate his patience.

‘Thank you, Vergil.’

--

List of recited poems and quotes

Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis by Sigmund Freud

The Epistle of Forgiveness by Al Ma’arri

Beowulf by Anonymous

Places Among The Stars by Stephen Crane

The title of this story was quoted from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by William Blake

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