#hopefully this one will be more promising than the art in the park i did last year which was *sad slide whistle noise*

[pettyprocrastination]

Got approved for a spot at the flea market this weekend 

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

I have far too many half-written things in my google docs that have never seen the light of day, so I've decided to start buffing up the best ones and posting them unfinished. Maybe I'll come back to them later, or if not at least someone will hopefully enjoy reading them as they are.

First up: fragments from a WIP based on the concept that Eva did not actually die when the twins were children; instead, she got caught in the magic field of a Geryon and sling-shotted to the middle of Devil May Cry 5. What I wrote revolved more around the aftermath, and Eva trying to come to terms with the modern world, her losses, and not knowing what happened to her sons.

The building is echoing once the buffer of trash is removed. High ceilings dissipating into shadowy un-shapes. Dark corners shifting like predators turning and twisting. It’s too like the manor in those early days before she tamed it as Sparda had; made it respect her for all she was a mortal woman.

Made it respect her because she was a mortal woman.

She feels so tired, though; too tired to start a fresh war. So Eva lives with the shadows and whatever they may hide. At least it’s not outwardly hostile. Even if it was, by rights she shouldn’t be comfortable here.

This domain, this world, empty of her sons.

----

Swollen and fragile all at once, like a wine glass held too long in hot water - ripe for shattering with a single thoughtless move.

Midmorning is an inauspicious time for any demon to appear; Eva uses the reprieve to walk the city streets. Capulet is smaller than Red Grave but still a decent-sized city in its own right, checking off all the requirements: university, libraries, museums, churches, arts district, cheerful cafes dotting the sidewalk…

A few months ago -- no, thirty years ago -- she would have delighted in browsing the art supplies store, or checking the museum events for child-friendly exhibitions (but boys you must behave), or laughing into her coffee as two eight year olds descended into extensive debate on the merits of chocolate cake over strawberry tarts.

Now she buys peppermint tea in a to-go cup and takes it to the park.

Capulet is unexpectedly windswept in August, errant breezes stirring up the parched over-long grass around her ankles and pulling her hair, strand by strand, out of the confines of her ponytail.

The park is quietish; the younger children are out in force but a university city never really feels alive during the summer while the students are away. She follows the winding gravel path towards the duck pond at the centre and circles it once, twice. Watches other mothers with children tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks; running; playing.

“Why don’t you go and play, boys? Just--”

“Be careful, I know.” Vergil’s eyes, already so much older than they should be. “Why even try when we have to pretend?”

She’d never come up with a good enough answer for him.

Trish finds her on a bench. She sits down without ceremony or preamble, sunglasses her one concession to the summer day but otherwise as unaffected by the August sun as she no doubt will be by the coming autumn chill.

(Eva is rapidly coming to dislike Trish. Not because she is a demon, per se, but because it’s so fucking demoralising to constantly see the perfect version of herself; an Eva who will never succumb to sagging tits or a bloated stomach or even messy hair.)

“Are you all right? You’re sitting there like a ghost.”

Eva sips her tea to save herself from an immediate response. The cup is almost empty and the dregs are cold; she doesn’t remember drinking it.

“I’m fine.”

“Mm.” Trish doesn’t look as though she believes Eva in the slightest, but thankfully doesn’t push the issue. “Well, in that case, I have a favour to ask.”

“Oh?” Eva becomes instantly wary. Even as despondent as she feels, she knows better than to thoughtlessly promise a demon anything.

Something flashes in Trish’s eyes, gone too quickly for Eva to define it. The slow smile that curls the corners of her lips is equally inscrutable.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a favour for me, exactly,” she assures her, waving a perfectly manicured hand (again that familiar burst of jealousy towards a creature that could control their human physical appearance at will; Sparda had never had a bad hair day in his life--). “Lady heard you’re quite the dab hand with magic and she wanted to know if there were any goodies you could make for her, or teach her, or… whatever, really.”

“Last I saw, Lady has a tongue in her head,” Eva replies coolly.

Trish’s smile widens. “Oh, she does, but she’s out of town this week and when I saw you I thought I might as well ask now as later.”

“Mm.” Now it’s Eva’s turn to give Trish a searching look. She taps her nails (not perfectly manicured by any definition of the term) against her empty cup, wishing there was some left; she could make use of a timely pause to sip her tea and give herself a moment to think. “Well, I’m happy to talk to Lady about what she needs when she’s back in Capulet.”

“I’ll pass the message on.” With one flowing, elegant movement, Trish gets to her feet and stretches like a languid cat. “I’d better get going. See you around, Eva.”

“Yes, see you,” Eva mutters to her back; Trish is already going, sashaying through the park like she owns the place.

Something about this doesn’t smell right and Eva has sense enough to be cautious.

And yet… When she returns to Devil May Cry, she spends time going through the cupboards she’s restocked and checking her herbs. She uses the laptop Nero and Nico set her up with and finds websites that sell the supplies she needs -- whether advertised for witchcraft or otherwise -- and prepares lists of useful tricks; things that used to give her the edge she needed to survive another night.

It might not be useful for Lady -- if, indeed, Lady even asked the question -- but it’s useful for Eva. Practically, because she can’t be too careful even now, and in the abstract;  when she goes to bed that night, Eva sleeps better than she has in weeks. Her hands might be dry and her nails might be broken, but with her fingertips stained and smelling of herbs once again she almost begins to recognise herself.

----

To Eva’s palpable surprise, Lady does actually swing by Devil May Cry the following week.

“Trish told me she saw you,” Lady explains as she unholsters Kaline Ann and sets her down on the desk. “Did she tell you the kind of thing I was looking for?”

Because there is truth in this cover story that Lady and Trish have concocted between themselves. Yes, mainly they want to check on Eva, but it also never hurts for an old bitch to learn some new tricks.

And how does Eva look? Less like Trish than she used to; Eva has taken to shoving her hair up in a loose bun at the back of her head (the better, Lady assumes, to keep it out of her face now she was no longer playing lady of the manor) and has swapped her elegant black gown for a serviceable sweater and jeans. On her feet, Doc Martens. On her hands, broken nails and stained fingertips. In her eyes - fire.

“In passing.” Eva is - suspicious? Well, Lady can’t entirely blame her for still finding her feet with all of them, particularly Trish - though Trish herself had taken it as a compliment that Eva considered her enough potential trouble to be wary of.

“You’re welcome to anything I can teach you, although…” Eva’s gaze slides across and down to Kalina Ann. There is something distinctly hungry (covetous?) in her eyes. “You seem to have the offensive side pretty well covered.”

Lady grins, one firearms aficionado to another. “Give Nico a call if you want anything - you can’t beat the Goldsteins for guns and for you she’ll probably do it for free.”

That does it: the reserve cracks and Eva grins back. It is not the kind, motherly smile that Dante probably remembers. This is the smile that a tiger would give you if it could.

“Noted.” Eva pulls out a stack of books from one of the desk drawers. “Now, where do you want to start?”

It does not take long for Lady to be very, very glad she arranged this meeting. Eva is an absolute trove of knowledge. Much of it Lady already knows, and some of it is interesting but not strictly relevant -- Lady’s fighting style being much more full-on than Eva’s tactics lend themselves to -- but she still picks up plenty.

----

Nero is a dutiful, darling boy. He checks in with her, regular as clockwork, trying to disguise the anxiety in his voice. He doesn’t know how to be with her, but he tries nonetheless.

He asks her, often, to visit him in Fortuna; to meet his girlfriend and the children they have adopted. Eva demurs and lets him think she’s still putting off the inevitable label of grandmother. It’s not a total lie, but it’s far from the primary reason. Maybe, perceptive as he is (and he is; Sparda’s eyes staring at her, seeing straight through her despite the un-Sparda-ish mouthing off), he knows that, too, and is giving her time.

It’s just… what if they come back, and she isn’t here to greet them? What if they think she’s truly gone again? She can’t hurt her boys like that a second time. She can’t let them down again when they look for her, reach for her. God knows she was worth fuck-all to them then and even less now, as much protection as a paper cut-out, but if they know she’s willing to put herself between the two of them and danger, then… that’s something, isn’t it? However little, it’s something.

The latest attempt comes on a late autumn evening. October is slipping away, each dark evening bringing them a little closer to Halloween. The most enterprising of the local children have already ventured out trick-or-treating with the excuse that the 31st is a school night, and Eva watches troupes of ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties parade past the windows with a bittersweet smile. She bought a bag of candy but doesn’t really expect any trick-or-treaters; Dante, with good reason, didn’t take pains to encourage the local kids to come calling.

Nero and Nico pull up, a welcome interruption to her descent into melancholy, out of breath but radiant from their latest skirmish. They stop by Devil May Cry on the pretence of leaving word for Morrison that payment is due, but Nero could do that himself on the little computer phone he carries around with him. In reality, they’re checking on her.

Eva doesn’t mind, really. She likes the company, and the kids (God, she calls them kids, they’re not that much younger than she is) are energetic; it’s hard to be actively maudlin when refereeing a shouting match. Nico especially is nosy and almost impossible to brush off or offend. On every visit, she wheedles a few more secrets out of Eva’s recipe books. Lately, Eva has been amusing herself by giving her tidbits and letting Nico reverse-engineer either the process or the product. Usually, she gets it right. Occasionally, she comes up with something better.

Tonight, though, Eva feels even harder to cheer than normal. Nico is put off by a wad of cash to get takeout -- Sparda laid the bounty of the world at her feet, but Nero and Nico are giving her a world tour laden with grease -- leaving Eva and Nero alone for half an hour. Nero has unchecked notebook privileges, as long as he’s careful with them, and he flicks through the entries thoughtfully.

“How did you learn all this stuff in the first place?”

“It depends which stuff we’re talking about.” Eva leans over his shoulder, pointing to the pages. “Sparda gave me a lot of them; things he’d picked up over the years, I don’t even know where from. But this one -- here -- that was from a hunter I partnered up with a lot in the early days. These tisanes were from my aunt. I used to say she should have been born a mediaeval herb-woman, except they’d have hung her for a witch.”

But Nero has stopped looking at the pages. He’s looking at her instead; thoughtful, in a way that is so Vergil it makes her heart skip a beat.

“What were they like, your family?”

“My family...” How long has it been since family wasn’t Sparda and the boys? How much longer since it meant the house she grew up in, and the people who populated it? “Oh, they -- they’re long gone. Better not to dwell. I have the boys,” Except she doesn’t. “And you, of course.”

Nero isn’t diverted, not for a moment, and the tilt of his eyebrows is pure Vergil. But he lets it go for now.

They taper off into silence. It lasts for a few minutes, Eva turning over possibilities in her mind. The words, when they come, are nevertheless a surprise; something she hadn’t meant to let loose.

“My father was a twin,” she says abruptly. “He and my uncle were thick as thieves. I always used to hope I’d have twins -- they say it skips a generation, so I thought it was likely I would -- and then they’d both always have a friend.”

She lets out a hollow little laugh. A friend. What a fucking fairytale.

Where did she go so wrong? Yes, the boys had always had their spats, but Eva had chalked that up to a mixture of their demonic blood and the marked differences in their personalities, watchful but not truly worried. She tried to encourage them to get along, to talk out their problems, but had also comforted herself that it was something they would grow out of as they got older and developed a bit more emotional maturity. Siblings fought; it was perfectly normal. Even she and Elijah--

Eva squeezes her eyes closed. She can’t think about Elijah right now.

A warm, calloused hand covers her own and Eva opens her eyes to see Nero watching her, his expression unusually serious.

“It’s not your fault,” he tells her, quietly but with a forceful conviction behind his words that reminds her of Sparda. “Yeah, they’re idiots, and they’re both kind of fucked up in their own ways, but it’s not your fault. They’d be a lot worse if it hadn’t been for you.”

Is that true? Eva isn’t sure which is worse; that she has ruined her boys, or that they would somehow be even worse without her.

But none of this is Nero’s problem. Grandson, she reminds herself once again. Grandson. Not a peer, not a comrade to lean on. A young man she needs to protect.

Pull yourself together, Eva.

----

Eventually, Eva gets sick of sitting around Devil May Cry waiting for something to happen.

She has never been a passive person. Eva makes things happen. Ever since Lady asked for some tricks to help her on hunts, Eva has been building up her supplies again. Restocking her herbs, potions, and powders. Dusting off Dante’s collection of magic books (a surprisingly comprehensive collection; Vergil had always been the bookworm, while Dante was too much of a fidget-bottom to sit still for five minutes)  and reminding herself of her favourite cantrips. Eventually, she contracts Nico to make her a pair of guns like her old ones.

The last time Eva felt so lost, she was drowning in grief for her husband and it ended in tragedy for her sons. She will not make the same mistake twice. Reaching back through the years, breaking down the walls she had so carefully built up, she remembers how it felt to be fifteen and alone; fifteen and desperate; fifteen and unstoppable.

Then she asks Morrison for some work.

As a young woman trying to break into this line of work, Eva had gotten used to the looks she elicited from these “brokers”. The initial amusement, thinking she’s joking. The surprise when they realise she isn’t. The patronising shake of the head as they assure her this is no work for a pretty little lady like her. Finally, the shock and anger as they hastily reconsidered their position with a gun jammed up against their throats.

Over time, she’d gotten a reputation for being an infernal bitch who was extremely good at what she did, which meant the work came easier. Eventually, by the time she met Sparda, she’d been running her own jobs without a broker at all - unless they were coming to her for a favour.

But that was then. Now she’s back to square one. Unproved. Untried. Untested. It’s aggravating but Eva knows she’ll have to just deal with it if she wants an in.

Because Eva is pretty sure she can talk Morrison into kicking a few jobs her way. Asking Lady, or Nero, or Trish to share, though? It will all be there - amusement, surprise, disbelief - and the worst thing of all is that they will be speaking not from baseless stereotyping but all too real knowledge.

Dante told us all about it, Eva. You barely lasted a minute when the demons attacked, isn’t that right? This is way too much for you.

No. She will work until she has beaten the softness out of herself. Until she can go back to them on an even footing. Until it’s second nature once again to have gunpowder on her clothes and the spark of magic at her fingertips. Until the Underworld has learned to fear Sparda’s whore again.

Then she will get their respect, rather than their pity.

Morrison drops by periodically for coffee and a chat. There hasn’t been any money-grubbing yet; Dante owns the office outright - Eva has seen the deed and it’s real enough - and the bills are being paid out of his last earnings. It won’t last forever, but it’s been enough to take one worry off Eva’s mind so far.

Instead, Morrison seems to simply enjoy her company, or maybe he just can’t kick the habit of showing up at Devil May Cry to see Dante. Whatever the reason, Eva enjoys his visits and his dry humour. What Morrison makes of her, she’s not sure; Eva had told him, in a tone that made it clear she was lying, that she was Trish’s long-lost sister. Morrison had simply chuckled and refrained from asking any questions.

That’s one thing Eva always did like about brokers; they’re the kind of people who don’t ask difficult, unnecessary questions.

“You’ve got this place looking real good, Eva.” Morrison looks around with genuine admiration and gestures with his lit cigarette to the spider plant growing ever larger in the corner. “Way better than Dante ever did. Mother of God, the state I’ve seen this office in… well. Maybe best not to elaborate too much there.”

Eva laughs, remembering how Dante always tried his best to weasel out of his chores. Even getting him to make his bed was a challenge. It seems he hasn’t improved with age.

“It’s certainly been quite the project. But, now that it’s done, I’ve been thinking I need something else to do.” Eva watches Morrison carefully, waiting for his reaction. “Do you have any work for me?”

Morrison smirks. “Getting bored already? Yeah, I got a few things on the back burner - the kind of stuff the other ladies think they’re too good for, if you catch my drift, and the kid really has got his hands full.”

...Okay, that was absurdly easy. Eva narrows her eyes, but Morrison doesn’t look like he’s trying to mock her. On the contrary, when he sees her expression, he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, I don’t control the work that comes in! Besides, pay is pay, am I right?”

“I’m looking for hunting work,” Eva says pointedly, wondering if he’s mistaken her meaning.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.” Morrison chuckles as he takes a drag on his cigarette. “What, were you expecting me to say no? If nobody will do the work, I won't get paid either.”

“I…” Eva is floored. All of her preparation, all that time spent rehearsing her arguments, and it turns out she doesn’t need any of them. “I was expecting, uh…”

“Pushback?” Morrison gives her a knowing look. “Do you really think I’d have lasted this long with those ladies if I trotted out that kind of line? As far as I’m concerned, if you hang around with Dante, Lady, and Trish, then you know what you’re doing and you can take care of yourself.”

Morrison pulls a notebook out of his pocket and rifles through it, humming under his breath. He tears out a page and walks over to lay it on Eva’s desk.

“Here are the details. Just give me a call when you’re done with them and I’ll arrange your payment. Damages come out of your cut, mind you. If everything goes well, I’ll see what else I have for you.”

----

It really is grunt work, but Eva doesn’t mind; she’s not arrogant enough to think she could jump single-handedly into something like Red Grave, guns blazing.

The job also isn't urgent - hence Morrison being lackadaisical about bullying someone into taking it - which gives her the leisure of reconnaissance and planning time.

An empusa nest out on some waste ground that a local developer bought before noticing his unexpected squatters. Straightforward enough, although Eva takes more precautions than she thinks are necessary just in case. After all, she’s seen her judgement is far from perfect.

But in the end, all goes smoothly. No nasty surprises. Just some nasty stains on the concrete from empusas blown to kingdom come. Eva grimaces at them, hoping they don’t count as “damages”. The land is being developed anyway, right? Surely they’ll be putting down fresh tarmac?

In the end, Morrison does take a cut from her pay, but it’s less than she feared and so Eva swallows it with as much good grace as she can muster. The stack of notes is a reassuring weight in her hand. Ballast, though for (or against) what, she’s not entirely sure. The important thing is that she’s done a competent enough job that Morrison leaves her with the details of another couple of jobs. In this way a reputation is built.

“Morrison,” Eva calls out just before he leaves.

Morrison pauses on the threshold. There’s a beat before he looks back at her over his shoulder and Eva gets the impression he knows exactly what she’s about to ask.

“Do you think he’s coming back?”

Because Morrison is not Trish, or Lady, or Nero. He does not know her connection to these people. To Dante. So he has no reason to lie to her or spare her feelings.

He sucks in a breath, considering. “You know, I’d gotten to the point where I never thought I’d see anything Dante didn’t come back from. So many times I thought he was in way over his head, only for him to walk away laughing. But this job… this felt different from the start. Gave me a sort of -- premonition, you might say.”

A soft hum; something that might have been a laugh, if there was any humour in it, and Morrison shook his head.

“The truth is, Eva, I don’t know. I really don’t. He could come waltzing back in here tomorrow, carrying a pizza and laughing at us all for ever doubting him. Or we might never see him again.”

Eva sinks slowly into the desk chair, feeling the truth of it in her bones. A tidal wave of exhaustion crashes over her, threatening to drown her in one clean swoop. Tired of worry. Tired of uncertainty. Tired of never even having the cold comfort of a body to bury. Tired of that tiny speck of hope that even now refused to be snuffed out completely because, however ridiculous it was to expect it, there was still the chance--

“I knew someone else like that, once,” she hears herself say. “He never did come back.”

Morrison gives her a searching look. He seems, for a moment, to be on the verge of saying something more, but in the end refrains. Instead, he tips his hat to her.

“You take care, Eva.”

“Yeah,” Eva replies distantly. “You too, Morrison.”

----

The work is important for more than Eva’s ego.

Her blood sings in her veins once again. The hum of power at her fingertips, like the whine of electricity. A promise, maybe even a vow if you were so inclined to call it such, that one day in the none-too-distant future a small slice of the world would once again turn at Eva’s call and beckoning. She has known this once before when playing lady of the manor. Now, the power is both weaker, for lack of Sparda’s force bolstering her, and sweeter, for knowing it is all of her own clawing and devising.

Her blood sings and Eva tastes iron and lightning on her tongue. Her fingers smell of metal and herbs and something no mortal can rightly put words to; the tang of the Underworld and the burning sulphur of demons.

When Eva looks at her reflection in the chipped bathroom mirror and sees an old, familiar light in her eyes, she knows it is time.

Very little magic needs to be complicated. The point is will, and the directing of it. For those unfamiliar with the craft then the trimmings of rituals and candles can go a long way in finding that direction.

For those who live long enough to become old hands, just the thinking, coupled with the right runes, is enough. Eva takes a sharp knife, a handful of herbs, and a silver-backed mirror (in this, old ways are better; a mercury mirror would work better still, but this will do for now)... and she searches.

Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, soul of my soul, I seek thee now. Come to me, come to me, come to me…

It is a powerful spell. Kinfinding may not be enough to physically draw her boys forth from the Underworld, but it should at least show them to her in the scrying mirror.

Eva seeks until her blood runs dangerously thin and her head pounds and her vision begins to darken. She seeks further still until she knows herself at the very precipice of what she can safely come back from… and only then, with great reluctance, does she let the spell go.

She has not seen them, either of them, even once.

----

Eventually, it feels meaningless to even keep up the pretence she thinks the boys are coming back.

What has happened to them is almost immaterial. The nightmare scenarios are so numerous that eventually they blur together into one long snuff film that leaves her numb. Like Sparda, they were there and then they were not. Like Sparda, she will never know what exactly happened.

Devil May Cry becomes part tomb, part cocoon. She has saved enough money to keep Morrison at bay for a while even after Dante’s funds run out, and she continues to take work for the sake of it, though she doesn’t keep track of her income versus expenditures. If or when the money runs out, she’s not sure. It’s pointless to think so far ahead. Perhaps she’ll just die, like she should have before.

A wife without a husband. A mother without sons. Once, she would have vomited at the thought of a woman identifying herself by the men in her life, but somehow it crept up on her over the years and now she’s left with gaping, bloody holes that gung-ho feminist rhetoric does nothing to paste over.

Nobody seems to notice the change in her philosophy. Though, she gets precious few visitors anyway. Trish and Lady leave her to her own devices, having apparently satisfied their curiosity about her. Morrison has tapered off their tete-a-tetes and only shows up when he wants money. Nero is a busy boy these days.

One night she dreams about them. The dream is very similar to the ones she used to have about Sparda; lifelike, almost lucid dreaming, where everything was the same - she is in bed, having just awoken - except he is there, smiling gently, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

Sleeping in, Eva?

Dreaming about the boys is very similar. She dreams she awakens in the night to a sound downstairs. There is no panic of a break-in; nobody bothers her these days. Voices, muffled, from the floor below. Eva calmly gets out of bed, registering even the rustle of the sheets and the cold, bare wooden boards under her feet. She pads slowly out of the bedroom to the top of the stairs.

There they are, standing in the centre of the office, illuminated perfectly by a strip of moonlight through the window. It is like a picture. It is too perfect and too easy. This is how she knows she is dreaming.

Still, for the first time in months, her heart eases.

They are talking softly to each other, too softly for her to catch the words (there is a limit, she concedes, to just how much even her vivid imagination can conjure). Eva doesn’t mind. She stands at the mezzanine and soaks them in.

Dante gestures to the stairs and looks up. He freezes as their eyes meet. Vergil, a half-heartbeat behind his twin, mirrors him.

“...Hey,” Dante croaks, the gesturing hand that had fallen still now awkwardly waving. “We’re home!”

This is more than she expected. Eva’s throat constricts. Even her dreams of Sparda were not so vivid or so long.

“You’re late, boys,” she manages after a moment. “Dinner was hours ago.”

She is trying for levity, trying to play her part in this scene, trying to piece together something happy for when she wakes up, but her voice cracks halfway through the sentence and she finds herself choking on a sob.

Dante is halfway up the stairs in a moment, hand outstretched to her. Eva, too, is reaching out to her little boy and she cries out when she finally has her arms around him again.

She does not get even a heartbeat of joy before the world collapses into shadows and flames. Dante dissolves, her arms closing around thin air, and the staircase morphs into an endless corridor to hell. Her boys are nowhere to be seen, but she can hear them screaming.

Or maybe she just hears her own voice, screaming herself awake.

There are more dreams, afterwards; more recognisable for what they are. Her life runs before her eyes in reverse. Searching for the boys. Watching Sparda walk away for the last time. The face of every person she never saved. Then, at last, the denouement: Elijah, torn open. Her father and uncle staring sightless into an abyss. Her mother reduced to so many scattered chunks of meat.

Eventually, because Eva is someone who makes things happen, not someone things simply happen to, she makes the decision to go back. She has faced Red Grave; faced the ruined manor. It is time to face much older ghosts.

It is a private matter, and so Eva tells nobody of her intentions. She lets Morrison know she will be out of town on personal business, timeline uncertain; she will give him a call when she’s back. He is free, in the interim, to pass her usual work on to other sources.

For anyone else (because she still hopes, deep down, that her boys will one day come home), she leaves a note on her desk.

Out of town for a while.

Eva re-reads the brief scribble and wonders what else to add before realising there really is nothing more to add. No forwarding address or contact number, because she does not want anyone to find her. Anyone who wants her, can wait until she comes back.

She makes it ten minutes out from the city before she turns back to scribble an address at the bottom of her note.

Just in case.

----

Plane tickets are cheap these days, and she has a passport courtesy of Morrison, but Eva elects to drive. Call her old-fashioned, or even just plain curmudgeonly in her old age (ha), but Eva likes the hum of a good motor much better than the press of noisy crowds.

Besides, she’d need a car at the other end of the flight anyway, where she’s going. She can even call it a vacation if she finds a motel to spend each night in. If not -- she’s slept in a car before and it won’t kill her to do it again, especially when the rental is much more comfortable than any old banger she’s passed a night in before.

Highways turn to country lanes as she veers further and further off the beaten track. The temperature drops, too; winter in the shadow of the Appalachian mountains is nothing to sneeze at. Eva has forgotten a lot of things over the years (too many things), but she remembers that. Funny how events and people slide slowly but surely from her mind but sensory impressions remain: the icy, pinesap-tinged tang of morning air in winter; the crackle of a fire; the warm doughy smell and pillowy softness of homemade dinner rolls.

Become someone else, she’d told her younger son as their world burned around them. Change your name, change yourself, and hide. Not easy, no, nothing like easy -- but possible, for the right price. For the price of giving up who you were before.

Except no bargain is ever so neat and no transaction ever so complete.

[theartichrist]

Some stuff about me

Alright alright, it’s about time I get to it, huh?

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Reblogs are the easiest and cheapest way you are able to support me! I love when my art is reblogged, and people get to see my hard work! Though, if you REALLY love my stuff, you can send me a tip on cashapp!

Are your commissions open? What are your prices?

I have 3 slots available at all times, if they are full, please wait for a slot to be open before requesting a commission! Prices can be negotiated, just shoot me a dm! (Updated every week)

Slot one: open

Slot two: open

Slot three: open

What can I/can’t I request for a commission?

Here are some basic yes’s/no’s when it comes to commissioning some artwork from me, if you have any further questions, please do just ask! I promise no question is a stupid one.

Things I am more than happy to draw:

Single character

2+ characters

Canon x canon

Canon x oc

oc x oc

Fluff

Nsfw/lewd/suggestive

Things I will NOT draw:

Any suggestion of anything immoral (including but not limited to: B**stiality, P*dophilia, R**e, or anything of the like) This is pretty self explanatory. Just. No.

Anything that could be considered an “odd kink”, (including but not limited to: v*re, v*mit, sc*t, or anything of the like) Though I don’t kink shame, no amount of cash would could push me to do that. I simply do not have the will.

Will you ever make merch?

I would love to eventually turn my passion for art into a career, so I might! I have some ideas planned out already, and hopefully I can set up my own Etsy very very soon :]

What are your tags you use?

All the posts I’ve made that are JUST MY ART are under #theartichrist

Any asks with little pictures of my demon guy are under #devilish asks

Hope that helps :]

That’s all for now, thank you for reading. Big smootches!🫀

[beauregardlionett]

in every lifetime 4/7

AO3 Link

prompt: falling

The first thing Beau ever learned in her martial arts classes was how to fall. Of course, by the time she got there, she already knew how to do that – had been doing it since she learned how to walk. But still, the tips her instructors gave were good to have in her pocket. They made falling hurt a little less.

Her parents had agreed to enroll her in said classes because it got Beau out of the house for a while and was a “productive” outlet for her rebellious attitude. Beau went because she got to punch things.

Somewhere along the way, she actually started to enjoy her martial arts classes for more than just the outlet. She felt powerful, in control of her body, and free. Her shift to college and a variety of other factors, however, ripped that security out from beneath Beau. Without the dojo, the lingering stench of sweat, and the punching bags, Beau was left unmoored. Her grades suffered, as did her sleep schedule, and she found herself itching to fight.

Until, she bumped into Yasha.

Yasha, who was an art major – quiet, sweet, and incredibly attractive. Yasha, who apparently had a history of violence, but had chosen art and nature as her coping mechanisms. Somewhere in her infatuation, Beau followed suit.

Yasha told Beau one day that she was going on a hike in the park near campus. Beau, the love struck fool that she was, agreed to tag along. And in the way history always circled back, somewhere between their first hike and the most recent, Beau found herself enjoying it for more than just Yasha’s company.

That was, of course, still the biggest reason.

Beau hopped over a half rotted tree trunk, twisting to smile at Yasha over her shoulder. Their latest hike was through the wooded paths of a park about an hour off campus. Beau never ceased to be impressed with the places Yasha found for them to explore. Each new trail felt like an adventure in a place previously unknown to the world. A pocket of fantasy secluded especially for them to unearth.

“You’re going to trip if you keep doing that,” Yasha laughed softly, climbing over the tree trunk with more caution.

Beau shrugged as she started walking backwards, still smiling at Yasha.

“Guess you’ll have to carry me back to the car if I do,” Beau sighed. “What ever shall I do?”

Yasha laughed again, a little louder this time, and Beau preened with joy at the sound. She opened her mouth to say something else, to hopefully encourage more laughter from Yasha. Before she could even think to form a sentence, Beau stumbled over a loose stone. Cringing at her lack of awareness, Beau’s body was already reacting, moving to fall properly. The impact would hurt like a bitch, but she could still lessen the impact. She twisted and braced, holding her breath for the shock.

The shock never came – or at least not in the way Beau was expecting.

Instead of hard packed earth and pebbles piercing skin, Beau hit something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around her shoulders and took her weight, pushing a quiet gasp from Beau’s throat. She blinked open screwed up eyes and looked up.

Yasha peered down at Beau, eyes creased with worry at the corners and white hair haloed by the sunlight at her back. Beau felt about as breathless as she would have been after hitting the ground.

“Are you okay, Beau?”

Beau’s stomach swooped and for a moment it felt like she had been let loose, like she might still hit the ground. Not trusting her voice, Beau settled on nodding, eyes never leaving Yasha’s face. With Yasha’s help, Beau regained her footing and busied herself with brushing off imaginary dust. Entirely flustered, Beau cleared her throat and attempted to scrape together some dignity.

“Thanks,” Beau mumbled, acutely aware of Yasha’s hand lingering on her elbow.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Beau? Should we head back to the car?”

“No,” Beau said, far too quickly. “No, I’m okay. Promise.”

She made the mistake of looking up at Yasha as she spoke, and found Yasha’s face mere inches from her own.

“Ah,” Beau said, breathless. “Hi.”

Yasha smiled, an amused quirk of her lips beneath the worry in her eyes.

“Hi,” Yasha said. “Want to keep going?”

“Yep,” Beau got out, voice just shy of strangled. “Yeah.”

Yasha smiled again, a more genuine spread of her lips this time. Her fingers lingered against Beau’s arm as she started to walk away. Yasha’s eyes lingered longer than her touch, until she was hiking away and Beau had no other choice but to follow.

Even with her feet firmly on the ground beneath her, Beau’s stomach swooped like she was still mid-air, bracing for impact. For a moment, she wasn’t sure why her heart hadn’t settled down. Then Yasha peered over her shoulder and smiled again, Beau’s stomach tumbling anew.

Ah, Beau thought to herself. Fuck.

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

<- prev | next ->

Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

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agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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[collecting-stories]

Crayola - Daryl Dixon

Request: Could you do one where Judith wants to draw but has no crayons so her Uncle Daryl takes it upon himself to see that his neice has all the art supplies 🥺👉👈

A/N: This was so cute...hopefully I did this request justice lol. 

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

While going out on a run was fairly common place these days, especially now that everyone was beginning to settle into life in Alexandria, there was something almost odd about Daryl’s departure that morning. He hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone about needing to or wanting to go out for supplies, hadn’t taken his usual roll-call of necessities that anyone else might have, and only told the person guarding the gate that he would be gone for the day but back before nightfall.  

Everyone was well aware that even now, so conditioned to the idea of family, Daryl still tended to withdraw into himself. That sometimes, maybe most times, he would rather be alone than with anyone else. It felt normal that he’d gone out alone but odd still that he’d gone so abruptly. He’d even made other plans for the morning. After weeks of trying to build a cold frame for the garden by yourself, he’d promised to get up early and help. But when you woke up, just before first light, he was already long gone, crossbow and hunting knife gone with him.  

There was the very likely chance that he was hunting. Sometimes he went out on a hunt just to clear his mind or because being alone in nature had such a calming effect over him. The season would be over soon and most animals in the area would get scarcer with the weather changing so it was possible, probable even, that he’d gone to find some fresh meat to stock up in the freezers and dry for later months.  

Then as dinner ended and the sun began to wane, the familiar rumble of his motorcycle indicated that he was back from wherever he’d gone. You were the first to make it to the gate, Judith trailing after you, her toddler hand clutched in yours as she waved excitedly for him. Since her birth Daryl had kept a close eye on his niece, and endearing trait that made him flush whenever anyone mentioned it. Even now, as he parked the bike along with the other cars that lined the wall and scooped Judith up into his arms it was evident that he was completely at her whim.  

“What’d you get?” You asked, more curious than anything else, “Denise said you left this morning for a run.”

“We were short on supplies.”  

“I just did inventory...” you started to say, noting for the first time since his return that the only bag he’d brought back was the one that sat strapped to the seat of his motorcycle, “you went out for a bag’s worth of supplies?” you sighed, stepping closer to open the bag up, “yell at him for me Judith.”

“She ain’t gonna yell at me, are ya?” He asked, swinging her back and forth and making her laugh.  

You rolled your eyes at the pair of them before checking the bag. Lips pressed into a thin line to stop yourself from smiling as you tried to act annoyed, “you went on a run for colored pencils?”

“There’s other stuff in there too.”

“Markers, crayons, three coloring books, some paint...Daryl...” you trailed off, looking back at him, “Judy I think I got bumped for favorite.” You teased, holding a pack of colorful markers out to the toddler.

“Ya gotta be favorite ta get bumped,” Daryl replied.  

You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned in close to Judith, whispering conspiratorially so that Daryl could hear you too, “it’s okay Judy, you’re my favorite too.”

After ignoring your insistence that you could manage carrying a bag of supplies back to the house, you and Daryl walked back down the street, bag and Judith still in his arms. You didn’t want to say too much more about the fact that he’d gone out of his way, quite literally, just to get Judith something that he noticed she might like because you knew the minute you gushed he would withdraw, acting like the grand gesture was no big deal. As if anyone would risk their life so a toddler could have a normal life in all this chaos.  

It wasn’t until you got to the house that Daryl passed off the bag and Judith, letting you take her to the porch swing while he headed inside to get something to eat, only at your behest.  

“You’ve been out all day Daryl; you need to eat.”

“Ya know I been hunting all my life, I can manage in the woods for a day,” he’d grumbled when you took Judith from his arms.  

“One of these days, eating a raw squirrel will kill you.” You replied, bouncing Judith slightly when she fussed. Taking her from Daryl was always an easy way to make her upset. Sometimes she flat out cried but for the moment she seemed like she would be okay, “all right, go inside before she totally loses it.”

“She’s fine.” He insisted, as if he didn’t know that, aside from Rick, he was her favorite person in the house.

Daryl disappeared inside and you sat Judith on the porch swing, sitting next to her and dragging the bag onto your lap, “alright Judy, let's see what Uncle Daryl brought you?”  

You set out some of the supplies, not wanting to get into any of the paints or markers in case you ended up being the one that would have to bathe her tonight. Judith was definitely good at making a mess and you weren’t going to chance it. You opened the crayon box and laid out one of the coloring books on a page with an outlined unicorn.  

“What color should we use first?” You asked, holding the box out to her so she could choose.

“Blue!” Her small fingers clutched at a light blue crayon, pulling it and a few of it’s neighbors out onto the bench. Her coloring skills were closed to scribbling still but you watched as she worked, going back into the crayon box until she’d covered the unicorn in every color of the rainbow, the background splashed with a few different colors as well.  

You and Judith stayed outside a little while longer, coloring in a few more pages before Michonne came out to put her to bed. She mentioned the run in passing, that Daryl still managed to surprise her every once in a while, doing something unexpected. You only smiled and nodded, knowing that if you said anything it would undoubtedly get back to him and then he’d be embarrassed.  

Once Judith was inside you took to cleaning up her supplies, already thinking one of the empty decorative bins in the hall closet would be a good place for art stuff. Living in a house with other people’s junk seemed odd sometimes but other times you were kind of thankful, they’d thought ahead to things you didn’t have to think about.  

“Ya coming in?” Daryl’s voice caught your attention and you looked up from gathering everything to see him standing there at the door.  

“Cleaning up this abundance of art supplies...64 crayons, I think she took every one out of the box.” You replied, trying your best to put them back in order. It wouldn’t matter to Judith, who would just pull them all back out again, but it irritated your OCD to have everything out of order. “Did you ever have the 64 pack?”

“Of crayons?” He asked, coming over and sitting down in the vacant spot, thumbing through the coloring book that Judith had started on.

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I was lucky if my dad gave me money for school stuff at all.”

“My mom was a teacher, she used to have this giant box with like...a hundred crayons in each color. It was so cool...of course, we were never allowed to touch it cause it was for her students but sometimes I’d snag a crayon or two.”  

“Didn’t strike ya as much for petty theft.”  

“Crayons were a very hot commodity when I was six.” You joked, before turning a bit more serious, “this is really amazing, that you did all this for Judith.”

“Ain’t nothing.” He replied, not looking up from the unicorn on the page.  

You stood up finally, art supplies all returned to the bag for now, aside from the book that Daryl was still holding on to. “We should hang that one up downstairs.” You mentioned, “it’s only fair you get her first masterpiece.”

[ficsilike-reblogged]

What’s in a Name? Pt. II

A/N: So I know I said that the first part was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done...but this takes the cake. The softest, cheesiest thing I’ve ever written and I will apologize for nothing. 

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG for mention of guns??? A few smooches or two.

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to propose and the one time he actually does. 

(Beautiful art by my bb @bucketheadredacted​)

Read part one!

Marcus Pike was finally a man lucky in love.

Maybe. Hopefully. God, he really needed to be lucky. Just this once.

He had bought the diamond ring three months after she had moved in—that was him moving slowly! Honestly! He had felt the urge to look at rings only a month after she had kissed him in the park but had refrained, his past failed relationships whispering at the back of his mind. He didn’t want to push her away. Didn’t want to scare her by moving too fast. Didn’t want to break his own heart again. It had been a strange uphill battle to just learn her name—and now he wanted to give her his name, too.

But he loved her. Truly.

And he knew that within a month of stealing kisses and slipping into overpriced hotel rooms between briefings and meetings and auctions across the country. And Marcus hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking her if she wanted to move into his Washington D.C. apartment six months later.

The words had tumbled out of his mouth while they were still half asleep, his alarm blaring in the background, alerting them both that she needed to get up to fly back to New Orleans.

And she…giggled and rolled over to press a kiss to his lips, uncaring of his morning breath. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

And it had been perfect. It had been good to come home and see her jacket slung over the back of the chair, to smell her perfume lingering in the bathroom as she dashed out the door, to wake up next to her when they both had a reprieve from their chaotic jobs and not have to worry that they would have to separate again within a handful of hours. It was good even when she tried a new recipe and the entire apartment smelled like burnt noodles for two days.

But he wanted to call her his wife and he wanted to be her husband. He wanted to have a family with her and maybe buy a house a little further outside the city—she had mentioned that she wanted a dog and a cat. “With room for them to run around!” She said with a smile.

And that all circled back to the ring. The platinum ring with the princess cut diamond. The ring he had been hiding for ages. The ring he wanted to put on her finger—if she said yes. Or he would have to tuck his metaphorical tail between his legs (again) and nurse a broken heart (again) and listen to his coworkers well-meaning condolences (again).

“When are you gonna ask her, man?” One of his fellow agents asked as they parked the agency-assigned SUV in the underground lot. Marcus had made the mistake of mentioning how he had a ring waiting at the back of his sock drawer and this agent—and honestly? Marcus couldn’t even remember his name—latched onto that and had spent the last three hours trying to ‘help’ Marcus come up with a plan on how to propose.

Marcus had a plan already. Thank you very much.

“I am going to take her to see the fireworks over the river.”

“Romantic. Good choice.”

Marcus felt himself puff up a bit at that. It was romantic, wasn’t it? This would be fine.

                                                     **

It was not fine.

The spot Marcus had picked was already crowded by the time they arrived—he was still grumbling about the flat tire he had to fix on the way there but his mood shift when he heard her sigh. It was a happy sound that had a smile pushing at his own lips.

“This is a good spot. Good choice.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek before turning and grabbing the cooler from the back of his car.

Marcus quickly patted his pocket and felt the ring safely in its confines. This could work, right? He just needed to wait for the fireworks. He set a checkered blanket on the warm grass and helped her unload their cooler, filled with her favorite picnic foods and maybe a bit of alcohol too, hidden away in two tumblers. The wind off the river was nice, keeping them from getting too overheated and someone further down the bank had set up a radio, letting music provide a backdrop to the quiet lapping water and the conversations from the strangers around them. He was not the best conversationalist, Marcus had to admit, he was busy rehearsing what he was going to say in his head over and over, trying to imagine if she would cry or smile—or just…say yes. But he made her laugh and earned a few more kisses when he managed to contribute to the conversation and fed her a few of the grapes from the cooler.

It was good…it was fine…until it wasn’t.

It started with her swatting at something on her arm just as the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. That wasn’t uncommon; the East Coast was notoriously buggy during the summer. It was probably a mosquito.

But then it happened again and again and again until she was standing up with a shriek, wildly hitting at herself. “Marcus! Marcus!”

“Honey?”

“There’s ants everywhere!”

He glanced down and…yes, there were ants everywhere. And then he felt his first bite.

They quickly gained more than their fair share of attention as they both scrambled to get the hundreds of ants off of them, knocking over their food and cooler with unpleasant groans and gasps as they gained more ant bites.

In a rushed haze, still swatting at themselves, they gathered up their belongings and all but dumped them in the back of the car. When their tires hit highway, they heard the first boom of the fireworks.

                                       **

“How’re you feeling?” She whispered as she rubbed a bit more cream onto Marcus’s back. It had been almost a week since the ant incident and his body was still covered in small red bumps. A testament to his failure.

He reached back, a little awkwardly from his angle on his stomach, and grasped her hand. “I’m okay, honey.” He hummed when he felt her pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Marcus turned his head just a bit and looked at her hand. Her ring finger was still bare. The ring had been tucked away in his bedside drawer after they both scrubbed themselves clean and then all but bathed in calamine lotion. But Marcus was a man on a mission. Having brunch, just to the two of them, all calm and relaxed, was just as good as fireworks.

When she’d been showering earlier, he had called in a delivery from her favorite breakfast restaurant, the florist down the block, and snuck around the apartment to try to tidy up a bit. Not that the apartment needed much. He had set a new set of candles in two overly-priced candle holders and lit them…and then quickly snuffed them out, deeming it too early for candles. He had slipped back into bed just as she emerged in a puff of lavender steam from the bathroom, looking much more comfortable than she had in days.

He rolled over and sat up to steal a kiss against her smiling mouth before coaxing her down onto the bed to apply her share of the strangely scented lotion to her matching set of bumps and bites.

“You know,” she started, face squished in the pillow, “for what it’s worth, I did have a really good time.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I always like spending time with you.”

“Even if you get eaten alive by fire ants?” He asked, a smile pushing at his mouth as his fingers trailed down her back.

She laughed. “Even then.”

He leaned down to press a kiss behind her ear before finishing her layer of lotion and his smile only grew when he heard the familiar, satisfied hum rumble in her throat. A knock at the door had him rising. “I’ll be right back.” Marcus pulled on a shirt as he moved toward the door and opened it, happily seeing two delivery men. He paid them both quickly and moved to the kitchen to set everything up as he heard one of his least favorite sounds.

Her cellphone ringing.

Marcus placed the flowers in her favorite vase but didn’t even move to plate the food he’d had delivered. What was the point?

She came out of the bedroom, rubbing at her temples and her phone in her pocket. “I-”

“You have to go,” he said, finishing for her. “Where to this time?”

She grimaced. “Nowhere fun. But apparently a Pollock has surfaced at an auction set for tomorrow night.” Her eyes darted to the flowers and her grimace softened. “Are these for me?”

Marcus smiled and handed them to her, chuckling as she all but shoved her face into the blooms to inhale their scent. He tightened the knot on the top of the takeout and handed that to her, too. “Here, you can eat this on the road.” And when she opened her mouth to apologize, he kissed the words away. Marcus would never fault her for her job and its uneven schedule, just as she never held his strange hours against him. “Home by Wednesday?” He murmured against her lips.

“Home by Wednesday. I promise.”

When he closed the door to her taxi and waved as he watched the yellow car disappear around the corner, Marcus sighed. Strike two.  

                                                 **

Patrick Jane was not who Marcus wanted to see right now. And neither was Lisbon. But that was beside the point. The point was that Marcus hadn’t seen his Honey in almost three weeks because of a demanding client wanting more and more art work so she was flown all over Europe to different auctions and private sales.

He had remembered how he heard her sniffle over the phone when she told him that this client was asking her to pick up more art. “It is good money, really good. I can probably take a few months off after I do this but I…” she hiccupped and his heart broke. “But I just really miss you.”

And that was why he had booked a table at this beautiful and romantic restaurant after she had managed to sleep off her jet lag and rinse the grime of the plane from her skin.

Marcus ordered expensive wine that she knew she only ordered when she closed a big deal and asked the chef to place the ring on the top of the tiramisu he had scheduled to be brought out in exactly 47 minutes.

But that plan had been fantastically derailed when that obnoxious blond man spotted him from across the restaurant and then had the gall to ask the hostess to seat them near each other. (What were they even doing in DC?) For her part, Lisbon looked uncomfortable, too, as they made small talk.

With each passing word and each forced anecdote, Marcus felt himself deflate. There was no way he was going to propose to the love of his life in front of his ex-fiancée and her husband.

“You know,” Jane started and Marcus felt his teeth grind, “Marcus always struck me as a family man.”

She smiled and reached out to wrap her fingers around Marcus’ and squeezed. “He is.”

“Oh?” Jane continued, leaning forward in his seat. “Is a congratulations in order?”

Marcus could hear his teeth grinding but her grip tightened on his hand while her smile remained steady. “That is none of your business. I am sure you can fill your time poking and prodding into other people’s lives. Now, please, you have interrupted my long overdue date with the love of my life with your prattle. I’m sure you’re lovely, but I am done entertaining you.” She raised her other hand and asked for the check which was quickly given. The hostess, for her part, did glance to Marcus to make sure it was okay before he subtly nodded. The ring was slipped back into his hand by a sly waiter.

“Marcus,” Lisbon murmured, “we didn’t mean-”

Marcus stood and buttoned his jacket before helping his Honey into her coat. “Have a good night, Lisbon.”

And they left the restaurant, flagging down a taxi as thunder rolled overhead. Marcus made sure to open the taxi’s door for her and let her slide in before joining her in the backseat. The pair was quiet for a moment, and then two before she started to giggle. The giggle grew into a full-belly laugh that had tears gathering in her eyes and Marcus had to laugh, too. She always made him laugh.

“God!” She said. “He’s so full of himself. And truly, Marcus, I’m sure Teresa is lovely but she has terrible taste in men. Choosing that over you? I would never.”

Marcus felt a selfish bloom of pride swell in his chest. “Yeah?”

She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. “Yeah. I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

And you know? That made Marcus smile just as much as putting a shiny ring on her finger. She wanted him forever.

He could propose tomorrow.

                                             **

He did not propose tomorrow.

Or any day after that for the next three months. There just…wasn’t the right time. The ring he now kept in his suit jacket pocket seemed heavier by the day. Even his fellow agents seemed to pick up on the fact that something was bothering him.

“Fighting with your lady, Pike?” One of them asked as they were huddled around a table in the art storage room, trying to devise a plan to catch a thief who had managed to disappear with fourteen million dollars’ worth of some blueblood’s family heirlooms which included an Artemisia Gentileschi original. It was a brazen heist and obviously a huge case that needed to be their sole focus.

But sometimes his group of agents were a little nosey.

“We don’t really fight,” Marcus muttered as he looked over the blueprints of the family’s home, trying to find a way that the thief had come in and out. The official police report said a downstairs window was open but he didn’t believe that. “We have our disagreements but she is the most levelheaded person I know. The most heated conversation we had was over which diner had the best waffles.”

Another agent gagged. “You two are disgusting.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘perfect,’ actually.”

Marcus shook his head and bit back a laugh—they really needed to focus on this case. “We’re not perfect.” And they weren’t. No one was. But that didn’t mean he loved her any less.

“Still haven’t proposed, eh?”

“Shut up, man.” There was no heat to his tone as Marcus scrubbed a hand down his face before looking at his watch. It was almost eleven at night. “Go home. It’s late. We can pick this up in the morning.”

The rest of the group grumbled their thanks and disappeared to the upper levels of the building, probably in search of their forgotten dinners before going home. Marcus tapped his pencil on the blueprints, his eyes constantly moving to the door leading into the ‘piano room’ which then led down to the wine cellar. He wasn’t sure why, but something in his gut just told him the answer led to that set of rooms.

“Marcus?”

He jumped at the sudden noise but quickly righted himself as he saw her entering the fenced off storage area, carefully skirting around a prized Greco-Roman statue they had just recovered in Philadelphia. It was no longer a surprise to see her down here, the front desk guards knew her by face and name and all but gave her security clearance, easily letting her through when they knew Marcus was working late. He stood and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her lips and then forehead in greeting, listening to her hum in contentment as her hands wound around his waist. “What are you doing here, Honey?”

She smiled as she looked at him and shrugged. “I knew you were working late. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d keep you company instead of tossing and turning.”

“You know I’m always happy to see you.” He led her over to the table and told her a little about the case, as much as he could without truly getting in trouble, and let her look over his notes.

She frowned as she turned the blueprints around and looked at them. “These people are like…billionaires, right?”

Marcus confirmed it with a frown but let her continue.

“Right. So, last time I was in LA, I was at that big, private auction at one of the gaudiest homes I’ve ever visited. Remember me telling you about that? The host got so drunk that he demanded he show everyone his three panic rooms and the private tunnel he had requested be dug behind his laundry room in the basement. Apparently he bribed the city inspector to keep it off the official blueprints so that a thief couldn’t use that tunnel.” She held up the blueprints and tapped at the wine cellar. “Ten bucks says there’s more to this wine cellar than just some ridiculous vintages.”

Marcus could feel his face lighting up. She was amazing.

They spoke a little longer, about possible suspects and how there was probably more than one thief—or at least a getaway driver—before their conversations shifted.

“The guys upstairs said something funny.”

“Hm?”

“They called me Mrs. Pike.”

His next breath nearly choked him. He was going to kill the guards upstairs. “O-oh? Really?”

“I think it sounds nice,” she said, her tone a little embarrassed. “Not that I haven’t thought about it before.” She smiled a bit, almost nervous. “We’ve talked about it, me and you, but to hear someone else say it…makes it sound…really nice.” She hid her embarrassment behind her hand and shook her head.

“I think it sounds nice, too.” He could do it. Right now. He could do it. They were surrounded by beautiful art. All by themselves. There was a light in her eyes that made his heart squeeze. His hand patted the pocket where he kept the ring and-

-it was gone.

“Marcus?” Her tone was filled with worry and she reached out to trail a finger over the crease that had erupted between his eyebrows, a gesture she did often when he brought work home with him. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine, honey.”

He most certainly was not but it wasn’t like he could tell her that or propose. ‘Yes, honey. I lost your engagement ring. Will you marry me?’ Fuck.

                                          **

The next day Marcus was stopped by the man at the front desk as he headed toward his office. “Everyone’s been telling me about your big plans. Can’t do it without this.” He handed over a small bag and inside…was the ring.

“Where’d you find it?” Marcus asked, stashing the ring in his briefcase this time. 

Apparently his pocket couldn’t be trusted.

“Parking lot.”

Marcus could only sigh.

                                       **

This was it. This had to be it.

If it wasn’t? He was sure the universe was telling him to just give up. They were happy, right? In love? Maybe they didn’t have to be married. Maybe…

No. No, he wanted to be her husband and he wanted her to be his wife. And that was why the ring was (safely and securely) stowed away in his wallet. He just needed the right time.

She was sitting across from him at their favorite diner, a stack of pancakes and a plateful of waffles between them and half-finished milkshakes abandoned near the saltshakers as they tried to guess which type of syrup was in each little carafe from a single bite. It was a game they played a few times before—one they had played on their first official date, actually. It had lasted well past the dinner and museum visit he had planned and into the morning where they had landed at the diner as the sun rose.

“This has to be strawberry,” she said as she finished her bite. “What do you think?” She asked, holding out the fork for him to take.

He took his bite and nodded. “Strawberry, definitely.”

She lifted the carafe and smiled as she read the tape on the bottom. “Point for us!” They high-fived across the table, laughing. The waitress who always served them shook her head with a smile from her place at the counter, knowing their game too well.

Marcus poured the syrup on their next bite and guessed its flavor before letting her take a guess.

“Um…blueberry?” She licked her lips, contemplating. “Maybe?” As Marcus lifted the carafe and confirmed that it was indeed blueberry, she continued. “Oh, a display of Alphonse Mucha is coming to Georgetown.”

Marcus smiled. Over an hour of their first date had been filled with soft whispers and shy smiles in front of a wall of Mucha sketches. They had been asked to leave by a polite but tired museum guard, not realizing they were there past closing. It was one of his fondest memories. One of the first times he realized she was truly special. He fell a little (more) in love with her that night. “We should go.”

“I’ll get tickets!”

This was the time. This was the moment. He pulled his wallet out under the table and curled his finger around the ring and watched as she smiled, wiping a bit of syrup from her chin. “I love you.”

She paused and looked at him, smile continuing to grow. “And you know I love you, too.”

“And I’ve loved you for a long time. You make my life better, make me better. I know our jobs are crazy. But they’re beautiful. Filled with art and excitement. But you’ve really…made my life a masterpiece.”

“Marcus?” Her voice was soft, eyes narrowing just slightly.

But Marcus pressed forward. “And I know that’s cheesy but I-”

And his phone was ringing. Why of all times was his phone ringing? And worst of all, it was the ringtone he had set for his boss. He had to answer. And she knew it, nodding just once with a fading smile. 

He stood from his seat and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he murmured before slipping away with his phone pressed to his ear.

                                               **

Marcus was tired. Tired.

He had been to New York to Miami to Orlando to Atlanta and then finally to Rio. The band of thieves, making a run for it with millions of dollars of art—including a da Vinci sketch. But he and his team caught them before they disappeared into the wind and the art was lost to the black market.

But he was tired.

He yawned as he drove through the mostly-quiet streets, ready to slip back into his apartment and pull his honey into his arms and then…sleep for three days. 

That sounded wonderful.

But then his phone rang again.

And he had to answer it.

Thankfully, it was a short call. Someone had just broken in to one of the smaller museums in Georgetown and they wanted Pike to catch the thief in the act. Marcus sighed as he tossed his phone in the passenger seat. If this went well, it meant less paperwork. And then he could sleep.

The museum was dark when he arrived. There was only a faint bit of life coming from around of one the corners and he slunk around in the shadows, a hand on his gun. He was ready. He could stop a theft before it happened. He could-

Marcus stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what he was looking at.

Standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by (electronic) candles and priceless Mucha originals, was his Honey. His Venus.

“Hi Marcus.”

He took one step forward and then two and then three-

And she dropped to one knee and gently grasped his hands in hers, tears filling her beautiful eyes. “You make me smile every day. Even when I feel the need to hide all your socks after you make me mad. You have given me a new way of seeing art, appreciating it. You, Marcus Pike, have helped me grow, helped me breathe when I thought the world was just too much, helped me learn what strawberry syrup tastes like.”

Marcus had to laugh at that, feeling tears start to gather in his eyes. “And pecan, too.”

“And pecan syrup, too.” She squeezed his hands again with a growing smile. “I’ve never known love like this. And I never want to be without it. I never want to be without you. I just…” she hiccupped, a few tears falling down her cheeks. “I just love you. Will you marry me? Can I be Mrs. Pike?”

Marcus pulled his hands from hers and quickly pulled his wallet from his back pocket, pulling the ring (finally), from its depths. “Can I ask you, too?”

She all but tackled him to the sparkling marble floors and pressed kiss after kiss to his cheeks, chin, brow, and lips, a laugh on her tear-stained lips. “Ask me.”

“Will you marry me?” The words finally came out in a rush, his heart beating wildly behind his ribs as he watched her smile. Her beautiful smile.

“Yes.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think!

[ladylynse]

Chapter 7 [FFN | AO3] of Forewarning

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he’d gotten here.

Based off this artwork by @hashtag-art. For @geronimo-alonzi, who requested an update as their prize for my follower fic giveaway.

(beginning | previous)

-|-

Danny didn’t know if he had to stick around to see the portal finished and personally face whatever came out of it, but Mabel was right. Clockwork’s warning hadn’t been so they’d stop what they were doing. It had been so they’d be prepared. And Danny was part of those preparations.

Clockwork, who acted like something of a mentor to Danny, now expected Danny to act like a mentor himself.

A little warning would have been nice. Or actually being asked.

Danny pulled the thermos out of his pocket, which earned him identical pairs of raised eyebrows. Clearly, neither of them had thought it would fit there. Maybe they were newer to this whole magic thing than they’d let on, since he doubted magic was terribly different from some of the things ghosts could do. At least the thermos was serving as a sufficient distraction from his slip about the portal. “Okay, before I hand this over, you need to promise you’re not going to turn it on and suck me in there.”

“We promise. Right, Dip-Dip?”

Dipper scowled. “If you don’t give us a reason to use it, we won’t.”

Okay, yeah, he wasn’t going to get anything better than that out of Dipper right now. Danny just wouldn’t tell him that the thermos was useless while he was Fenton and not Phantom. He passed it to Mabel, who started turning it over in her hands, and Dipper leaned over for a closer look.

“Right now, that will only work on ghosts, but I think we can modify it for other stuff. It should be able to contain anything noncorporeal.”

“Like?”

“You’re the one with a book full of weird things. You tell me.”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged glances but didn’t enlighten him. Fine. If he needed to know, there was plenty of time to find out later.

“It’s pretty simple. You just take the cap off, aim, and press the button on the side to activate it. I’ve primed that again, so it’ll work; it was nearly out of power before.” He didn’t need to get into the details, like how it was powered by ectoplasm and that’s why a single charge lasted as long as it did. Though, if they were going up against something that wasn’t a ghost, that charge wouldn’t self-renew for nearly as long as a typical charge in Amity Park. “The circuitry’s still intact, so if I just tweak the code a little, you should be good. Hopefully. At least for a little while. I’ve never seen a ghost break out of the thermos—” the Box Ghost might be an exception, but Danny wasn’t going to think about that right now, much less tell them that “—but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

Tweaking the code would be a lot easier with Tucker around to do it for him, but just because this would be the first time Danny was modifying something without Tucker looking over his shoulder, didn’t mean it was doomed to failure.

It couldn’t be, if this really were Clockwork’s grand plan, and he hadn’t stepped in to interfere yet or otherwise nudge Danny towards the correct path. Danny was pretty sure he’d do that, at least if the current path was going to make things way worse.

“How are we supposed to tweak this?” Dipper asked, not taking his eyes off the thermos.

We. Not you. More likely a sign of mistrust than solidarity, but Danny just explained as best he could anyway. At least if he was talking about this, he wasn’t talking about the portal, and if he could just get the twins far enough off that topic, then he could pretend he’d never mentioned it at all—

The sound of a vehicle pulling up distracted them all. Dipper shoved the journal out of sight under his vest again and Mabel hid the thermos in her lap, but the twins relaxed when they saw the car. “Grunkle Stan’s back,” Mabel said, ignoring the way Dipper immediately hissed her name.

Grunkle Stan. Stan. So that was Secret Lab Guy’s name. Danny could see him clearly enough as he got out of the car, and he was wearing the same clothes, so it (probably) wasn’t just a lookalike. (From the little Danny had seen of this place, not to mention his general experience with shapeshifters and clones, he was not keen on assuming anything.)

Stan waved at them and started to walk over. “Hey, kids, who’s your friend?”

Danny blinked, about to reassess his judgement that this guy didn’t have a twin, too, but then he noticed how intently Stan was looking at him and realized that not telling the twins about the portal involved pretending they hadn’t already met, too. “Danny Fenton,” he said, holding out a hand.

Stan shook it and then said, “You here for a tour?”

“He had it already,” Mabel said. “Can he stay for supper, Grunkle Stan? Wendy said we can do a wiener roast. She bought more marshmallows and everything!”

Dipper glowered. Danny plastered a smile on his face. Stan pretended to dither for a moment before melting and giving in.

Stan didn’t mention the journal, so Danny didn’t, either. Maybe Stan just thought it was a weird thing to bring up out of the blue? Or, more likely, he assumed Dipper hadn’t yet told Danny, a kid he supposedly knew nothing about—?

The implications made Danny’s head hurt. That was more Jazz’s or Sam’s territory than his.

Whatever. If Dipper could give him an idea of what he might need to tweak the thermos for, he should’ve picked up enough knowledge from Tucker to know what to change when it came to reprogramming it. (He did know how to do more than just program stuff to ignore Phantom—or at least not hit him with the full force of whatever-it-was, depending on the weapon and how obvious the tampering would be.) He could probably get it done before supper, too. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to do a rush job before his parents came home and caught him at it—or just straight up noticed that their new prototype was missing, which was frankly more likely, since he didn’t do his fiddling in the lab unless there was a serious chance of it resulting in an explosion.

Stan shuffled off, Danny scooted closer to the twins as Dipper pulled out the journal again and Mabel produced the thermos, and they got to work.

-|-

Mabel didn’t really understand what Danny and Dipper were doing with the thermos, but she trusted Dipper to keep his word, so she didn’t feel too bad about leaving them to it about ten minutes into a discussion she couldn’t follow anyway. Danny had tried to explain some of it to her when Dipper had sneaked into the toolshed for a screwdriver, but he might as well have been speaking another language for all she’d understood.

Instead, she skipped past Grunkle Stan and Soos—all she caught of that conversation as she passed by was something about hauntings and advertising, so tourist stuff—and found Wendy at the fire pit. Wendy had already found the campfire forks—they were leaning up against the tree near where Grunkle Stan usually sat—and the ashes from the previous fire had been replaced with fresh wood. Two bags of marshmallows poked out of a grocery bag nearby, and—

Mabel frowned.

A box of salt?

“Hey, Mabel!” Wendy said, smiling easily at her. Mabel almost missed the fact that she moved to stand in front of the box of salt and gently nudged it behind one of the logs with her foot. “You and Dipper finish gathering some deadwood for tinder? We’ll need it to get this started. I’ve still got some cattail fluff from last fall, but we’ll need something between that and these larger logs. Stan likes to cheat and toss some gasoline on there, but you two should know how to build a fire before the summer’s out.”

Mabel nodded. “We stacked it by the wood pile, the kindling’s in a box, and Dipper split some more wood for later, too.” She hesitated for only a beat before adding, “Grunkle Stan said our friend Danny could stay for supper. Do we have enough hot dogs?”

“Danny?” Since she was looking for it after that box of salt, Mabel didn’t miss the way Wendy’s expression froze, though she’d schooled her face into its usual relaxed expression a second later. Huh. Mabel hadn’t realized Wendy knew anything was off about Danny. “The kid who was in earlier?”

“Yeah, he came back to visit.”

Already? But Wendy didn’t vocalize the question Mabel could see written on her face, instead shrugging and saying, “Cool. Yeah, there’s plenty of food.” She paused. “His parents know he’s here?”

“He phoned earlier.” It was a lie wrapped in a truth, and she felt a bit bad about that, but she was pretty sure Danny would rather explain everything to Wendy himself. Assuming he would explain it to her. Mabel hoped he would. If there really was something coming, something bad enough to merit forewarning, they should all know about it.

The journal entry had her stumped, though. If the bit in green ink wasn’t for Danny, who had it been written for? And in a different code than everything else, no less? Maybe the message was actually for that Clockwork Danny had mentioned? Or from him, just not meant for any of them? If he really knew what was coming—

Wendy hummed. “We can get some pretty weird folks coming through here. Mystery Shack ‘n’ all.”

Mabel blinked.

Was that a warning? From Wendy? Sure, Danny hadn’t made the best first impression on Dipper—or her, come to that, but she was a lot more willing to trust him than Dipper—but Wendy wouldn’t have met Phantom. And Danny had said himself that he was as much human as ghost, more or less, so it’s not like he was that bad at faking it when you hadn’t seen both sides. So what had Danny done to put Wendy so on edge?

And then Mabel remembered that Wendy had thrown a box of baking soda or something into the air after Danny had not so subtly taken up knocking on walls. She hadn’t seen any evidence of Danny then, but what if Wendy had? She’d clearly connected it to Danny, not Phantom. Granted, Mabel was pretty sure that Wendy wouldn’t be fooled by Phantom any more than she and Dipper had been by Danny, but….

“He’s a friend,” Mabel repeated firmly. Dipper might not believe it, but she did. “And everyone’s a little weird sometimes, so he just fits right in.”

Wendy didn’t manage to pull her frown into a smile before Mabel noticed. “Sounds about right,” she said. She dropped to a crouch in front of the campfire and looked up at Mabel, saying, “Here, wanna try building this yourself? I’ll tell you about the different styles.”

Wendy’s stack of wood looked perfect already, but Mabel was curious, so she accepted the subject change for what it was and dropped to her knees opposite Wendy. “Sure!”

-|-

Dipper still didn’t trust Phantom—Danny—whatever he wanted to be called, not by a long shot, and he wasn’t sure he could trust everything Danny was doing with the thermos that had once contained him, but it didn’t blow up in their faces, so that was a plus. Dipper wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t backfire if he was forced to use it, though. He was half tempted to bury the thing behind the Mystery Shack again after finding an excuse to send Danny away to find Mabel, even if it was empty.

“Who’s Tucker?” Dipper finally asked after Danny muttered the name yet again.

“One of my best friends,” was the absent answer as Danny squinted at circuitry they definitely wouldn’t be able to alter without a soldering iron or something similar. “He’s good at this kind of thing. Way better than me.”

“So why should I trust that you know what you’re doing?”

Danny frowned at him. “Is there any way I can answer that question and not have it come back on me?”

Probably not. Dipper shrugged. Danny huffed and started to screw the panel back into place. Since he hadn’t done anything to it beyond pressing a hidden button, Dipper hoped that meant everything was in order, that the hack would work. Danny claimed he had managed to return the thing to what he said were the equivalent of its factory settings, but Dipper wasn’t entirely comfortable with having to take his word for everything.

It barely seemed better that Danny was doing all the work on it. Sure, if it exploded, it would be in his hands. Then again, if he decided to turn it into a weapon that he could use against the rest of them, rather than one that worked on him, Dipper didn’t have the knowledge to stop him.

He suspected Danny knew that, even if Dipper was doing his best to pretend that he knew what was going on.

“How can we be sure that what you’re doing is going to work?” It wasn’t much of a different question than before, but it was certainly a valid one in Dipper’s opinion.

“Remember when I said my parents built this? I’m really familiar with this design. With all their designs. I know how they think, and I can figure this out, even without Tucker looking over my shoulder. It would just be faster with Tucker.”

He’d managed to pull up a menu on the display, so he might not be making things up completely. Dipper decided that if he had to trust Danny, then trusting him not to do something that would harm them would be the first step—and trusting him to try to do this could be the second, even if that would be a work in progress and very much contingent on Danny not going berserk on them. “Fine. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to test it?”

Danny scowled. “You could at least pretend to trust me.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work on you, then it either means you broke it or did what you’re trying to do, doesn’t it?”

“No. I’m going to expand what can be captured, not exclude ghosts from that. You guys might wind up facing down a ghost, and a thermos is a good thing to have in your back pocket. So if it doesn’t work on me, then it’s broken, but it’s not broken, because if it were, Clockwork would’ve talked to me by now.”

“You seem pretty confident about that considering you said he doesn’t like to interfere.”

“He pretends he doesn’t like to interfere. I think he tries not to be too blatant about it.” Danny looked up at him. “I know how this sounds, but I’m not working against you. I really just want to get home, and this is the only way I know how to do it.”

He sounded sincere. At least, he sounded a lot more sincere than he had when he’d first talked to them. He might not be saying everything, but Dipper could believe that Danny was telling the truth now.

Dipper still wasn’t sure where the truth got them. None of them knew what was coming—except apparently this Clockwork guy. All they knew was that, whatever it was, it was supposed to be bad, which wasn’t exactly a whole lot of help. How were they supposed to prepare for something bad without knowing what that something was?

For all that Danny claimed he didn’t know what was coming, Dipper would’ve bet that Danny had a pretty good guess—or at least a better guess than Dipper himself did. He could think of entirely too many possibilities; the journal talked about everything from gnomes to interdimensional beings.

Speaking of which— “What were you saying about a portal earlier?”

Danny froze, and Dipper would’ve had to have been blind not to read the guilt on his face. “What?”

“You said something about a portal. What was it?”

Danny purposely returned to screwing on the panel—or rather, unscrewing it, loosening it just enough to give himself something to do. As if Dipper couldn’t recognize a stall tactic that obvious. Without meeting Dipper’s eyes, Danny said, “That’s not important.”

He didn’t try to claim he hadn’t mentioned it, which seemed like an improvement over earlier, but that didn’t mean Dipper was happy. “I’m pretty sure it is. You talked about interdimensional safety before, and then you mentioned a portal.”

Danny grunted.

“Not telling me what you know isn’t going to make this any easier. And it might take you even longer to get back home.” However that was supposed to work.

Danny tightened the last screw (again), dropped his hands still holding the thermos and screwdriver into his lap, and looked up. “Fine. Interdimensional travel? Risky. Trying to straight up drill a hole between dimensions? Risky. Trying to even communicate with beings from other dimensions? That can be risky, too. It isn’t always, but it can be. What we’re doing with this?” He lifted the thermos. “It’s barely more than a precaution. Just because you have a thermos, doesn’t mean you’re going to have an easy time getting anything into it. If anything is too strong, the thermos won’t be able to pull it in until you weaken it so they can’t fight back, or at least not fight back as much.”

Dipper was not about to let him get away with not mentioning the portal. “So the portal—?”

“When I said I was in a lab accident? It was a portal accident. I know a thing or two about portal safety, not that it helps me now. Pro tip: don’t put the ‘on’ button on the inside. If you have to do that, at least make it a switch so you can keep it in the on position and just plug it in and unplug it when you need to turn it on and off.”

Dipper frowned. “You think repeatedly pulling the plug is better than having things safely shut down whenever you want to turn it off?”

“No, I think you should have a design where safe shut downs and not just emergency shut downs are actually a thing. Not having a kill switch is just as dangerous, though. There isn’t necessarily going to be time to shut everything down safely when something is coming through to kill you and everyone you care about.”

Dipper blinked.

“That one’s not from personal experience,” Danny said as he let the thermos drop into his lap beside the screwdriver. “A kill switch wouldn’t have helped in that case.”

“What—?” Dipper broke off. “Never mind.” Danny was trying to distract him, and it was working. He couldn’t let Danny get away with changing the subject like that. “Why did you mention a portal in the first place?”

“I dunno, because interdimensional safety kinda implies portal?”

Dipper growled. Danny wanted to feign ignorance and play innocent? Fine. Dipper could spell it out for him. “Not in relation to you, to us.”

Danny lifted one hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Look, this place is weird. A portal to somewhere else being involved somehow is a distinct possibility. If that’s not why it’s weird, it might be appealing to people who are interested in why things are the way they are around here. That’s why my parents chose to set up shop where they did.”

Dipper was well aware that he’d only scratched the surface of the mysteries within Gravity Falls, but he hadn’t exactly gotten the impression that Danny had been talking hypothetically earlier.

“Is it really that hard to believe that I just want to protect people?” Danny asked. “How many times do I have to tell you I just want to help?”

“You just want to go home,” Dipper countered, “and helping us is apparently the only way you can do it. Forgive me if it’s hard to believe that some of your help isn’t as helpful as it could be.”

Danny groaned. He got to his feet, handed Dipper the thermos and the screwdriver, and said, “Fine. Try the thermos on me. Be satisfied with the fact that it works and that I didn’t sabotage it. Then you can let me out again so I can keep helping you.”

Dipper glared but took the thermos in one hand and pocketed the screwdriver with the other. He thought about asking what was stopping him from just keeping Danny in the thermos after he tried it out—assuming it worked—but decided Danny might come out with some drawled ‘your conscience’ response, even though ‘your sister’ would have been more accurate.

“It’s really easy,” Danny was saying. “All you do is unscrew the cap and turn it on or turn it on and unscrew the cap, depending on whether it’s off or on standby. I’ve got it on standby right now, so you only need to take off the cap, but you’ll want to turn it off to save power once we’re done because this thing runs on ecto-energy. If you have anything inside, it’ll stay contained until the power is completely drained. Clear as mud?”

Dipper didn’t bother returning Danny’s smile.

Danny sighed, turned the thermos in Dipper’s hand, and pointed at a button. “The release button is clearly labelled. Take the cap off and press it. That’s it.” He hesitated. “Well, don’t drop it when the cap is off unless you have the release button locked.” He thumbed a slide next to the button, pulling it down to the little icon of the open lock, and the display on the side briefly flashed UNLOCKED in green letters before returning to EMPTY.

It hadn’t exploded yet, so Dipper figured it might be safe to use.

“Let’s just go farther away from the shop,” Danny muttered, glancing over and the Mystery Shack. “I don’t want to do this where the others can see. Scaring your cashier once today was enough.”

Dipper glanced sideways at him but let Danny pull him into the trees. “Wendy?”

“Yeah, I think that was her name.”

“Wendy doesn’t scare easily.”

“Okay, then being threatened by your cashier once today was enough,” Danny amended.

“She knows ghosts are real.”

“Clearly.”

“No, I mean— You aren’t the first ghost she’s met, either.”

“Tell her to visit Amity Park, and I won’t be the last. Well. She might run into me again, but I won’t be the only ghost there.” He paused. “I think.”

Dipper waited.

Danny did not explain.

Naturally.

Dipper let Danny walk in silence for another ten seconds or so until the shack was masked by a familiar mix of deciduous and evergreen trees. Somewhere overhead, a bird trilled, and there was a nearby rustle as a chipmunk made a mad dash for a tree. Dipper took some comfort in the fact that the local wildlife hadn’t immediately made itself scarce in Danny’s presence, but he still asked, “Are we far enough away that you’re comfortable telling me what else you’ve been hiding? Because if you’re hoping none of them would hear me scream in pain from here, we need to go farther.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“And you’re not going to talk, either?”

“I’m not hiding anything else.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Which means you should believe me when I say I’m only trying to help you!”

Dipper bit his lip and then made his decision, handing Danny back the thermos. “I’ll trust you that this will work,” he said as Danny hesitantly reached out for it, “and I’ll trust that your warning wasn’t intended to dig us into deeper trouble. But I don’t believe that you’ve told me everything we need to know.”

“I’ve told you everything I can right now,” Danny said, gripping the thermos as if he expected Dipper to try to yank it back out of his hands at those words. “Everything important, anyway.”

Maybe it was a passing cloud that obscured the leaf-filtered sunlight that had speckled Danny’s black hair as he said that. Maybe it was the wind blowing the trees and shifting the leaves overhead. Somehow, Dipper doubted the cause was truly so innocuous. The sudden shift to shadow caused his skin to crawl—especially when the light didn’t return within a few heartbeats.

Danny didn’t give any indication that he noticed, or at least not that he felt that something was wrong, so Dipper didn’t know if this was Danny’s doing or something else within the forest itself.

Even if the author had managed the great feat of discovering all the secrets of Gravity Falls, Dipper hadn’t found and read the other journals. He didn’t know what he was missing.

There was too much he still didn’t know, and Danny was making it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t say anything else.

For all Dipper knew, he’d recognized the strange code in the journal after all.

“Dipper!”

That was Mabel. The call wasn’t urgent, just pitched so that her voice projected far, most likely because she didn’t know where he was or if he’d gone inside. Her mind wouldn’t have jumped to all the things Danny could have done to him when they were alone, though given that none of the things Dipper had come up with had happened, perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to think it, either.

Still.

A little wariness never hurt anyone, right? Especially in Gravity Falls.

“Grunkle Stan said we could roast some marshmallows before our hot dogs, and I’m going to eat yours if you don’t get your butt over here!”

Danny offered Dipper a weak smile. “Guess it’s supper time, huh?”

“Can you even eat?” Dipper asked, not realizing how rude that must sound until after the words had left his mouth. “I mean, uh—”

“I can eat,” Danny said, and this time his smile looked genuine, a spark of laughter reaching his eyes. “Food I don’t have to make myself that I also don’t need to hunt down when it comes alive and goes feral? Count me in.”

It was a distraction from their earlier conversation. Dipper knew that.

Knowing that, however, was not enough to stop him from repeating, “Comes alive and goes feral?”

Danny’s smile twisted into a definite smirk. “Let’s just say that holidays at my house involve more famine than feast, at least until we get everything cleaned up and can order take out.”

“Dipper! Danny? Where did you guys go?”

“Coming!” Dipper called back. He glanced at Danny, wondering if he had anything else he wanted to share before they went back.

“Truce?” Danny asked, holding out his hand. “I mean, we kinda had one before, but officially now? Where we help each other?”

One deal with a phantom (not-phantom) kid shouldn’t backfire on him, so Dipper nodded and shook Danny’s hand. “Truce.”

He’d shaken on sketchier deals in the past, and if something came back and bit him over the course of this summer, Dipper didn’t think it would be this.

(see more fics | next)

[moonbeambucky]

I Promise (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4106 Warnings: fluff, smut, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: My first Chris Beck fic! Rather than a really long one shot I’m splitting it into two parts. A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

“Hey.”

The soft resonance of Chris’ voice brings tears to your eyes, ones you couldn’t help from slipping out. They fall down the curve of your cheeks past the uneasy smile you wore.

“I kept my promise,” he said. Chris flashed the top row of his bright white teeth, his mouth curving into a boyish smile that reached his eyes, the fine lines crinkling around them. He tilted his head as he looked at you through the screen, a comforting gaze that made you feel as if he was there with you. 

The quality of the video chat is near perfect making you almost forget Chris was millions of miles away. He looked the same, not that you expected him to look different. It had only been a few months since you last saw each other. 

His hair looks darker than usual but you suppose it’s the low lighting of the small room he’s in. He’s bundled up in a thick NASA sweatshirt and you can see several more layers he has on beneath the collar. Chris looks tired but that’s expected, what he’s doing right now is not a walk in the park. You know it’s the reason why it’s taken so long for him to contact you but you wish he did it sooner. 

More tears flood your eyes, burning their way out as you wished he never left at all. You can barely hear Chris over the sound of your own sobs.

“Please don’t cry,” he pleaded.

You lifted your head towards the screen and seeing the concern on his face only made you miss him more, wishing he was there to console you in person.

Your hand swept away tears from your cheek as your voice cracked saying his name. “Chris…” 

The streets are simmering with the heat of a summer that couldn’t wait to officially start. Calendars be damned, it was hot. You indulged in a cool shower when you got home from work but time didn’t allow for a languid evening of staying in your towel as you applied serums and moisturizers, lotions and creams and every other post-shower pampering you normally do. Tonight was dinner with a friend and you needed to get ready.

Chatter filled the air of the patio, a small secluded outdoor space at the back of an Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. It had an Old World Tuscan feel, from the stucco walls that looked purposely imperfect. Green patina shutters hung beside a wrought iron lantern that glowed in the early evening. Lush greens and bright flowers sat atop the half wall that surrounded the dining area making you forget you were in the city.

Chris looked the same, not that you expected him to be different. It had only been about two years since you’ve seen each other, right before he began training for his mission and now you can’t believe it was about to happen. Never would you have expected that the little boy down the block who became your best friend would actually be going to Mars.

For most of your lives you were in the same school, starting in Mrs. Kramer’s kindergarten class where you stuck together; two kids that were nervous about making friends and finding comfort in each other. As the years went on you weren’t always in the same classes but your friendship continued to grow. Chris was picked on for having a girl as a best friend and the girls always teased that he was your “boyfriend.” It never felt that way with Chris. He was your friend first and you never saw him as anything more. 

By the time you were in middle school Chris was already taking advanced classes in math and science and the only class you had together was art which he was famously terrible at. It was there you asked him a huge favor, whispering to him at the sink as you rinsed off your paint brushes. “Could you kiss me?” Chris turned as red as a boiling lobster, immediately sweating as if he was being roasted alive himself. It was later that day walking home from school that you clarified what you meant.

There was a boy, Justin Kaufman, who was the coolest kid in your grade. You had a crush on him like everyone else and you were shocked when he asked if you would go with him to the dance on Friday. You were worried he might try to kiss you and being inexperienced made you nervous. Justin was really popular and if you were a bad kisser then the whole school would know it. Chris was your friend, someone you trusted, someone you could practice with just to make sure you didn’t make a fool of yourself. 

You had no frame of reference for kissing back then apart from one sided smooches to pictures of movie stars that you had a crush on. But feeling Chris’ lips press back against yours was… nice. The best part about it was that things didn’t feel awkward after. Chris was still your best friend and nothing changed. 

A server hands you a menu and you thank him, scanning through it to see what you might be interested in. Chris looks up at the same time you do, wondering if you wanted an appetizer.  You nodded letting him choose, considering the limited food options he’ll have for over the next year. 

“Can you drink?”

Chris’ nose crinkled as he smiled. “In space? No. Tonight? Yes,” he chuckled softly. 

Two glasses of red wine were set on the table as you indulged in delicious food, catching up as much as you could before Chris’ mission. 

“So you’d love what happened today,” you began, leaning closer, “We filmed a restoration video and yours truly was in it.”

Chris’ eyes lit up as he gasped. “I love those! You have to send it to me. Hopefully I can see it before I go. What was it?”

“A sixteenth century European oil painting.” You went into detail and Chris loved listening to your knowledge of art history. It was no wonder that was your major, taking your studies further to work as a conservator at the Met.

Chris swallowed his food quickly to speak. “You were always good at that– art, attention to detail. Remember when we had to sculpt our own faces?” he chuckled.

There was a short burst of laughter as you remembered that day from so long ago. “Yes! Thankfully the real you doesn’t look anything like that abomination you made.” 

Chris drops his head down to hide a bashful smile that mixed in with laughter. He’s enjoying himself, catching up with you, eating. This was so good. He couldn’t help but scoop up another forkful of pasta, not expecting you to ask him a question. “So, how are you feeling?”

He paused to reflect and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “I’m nervous… excited.” Taking a sip of wine, he sets the glass down carefully on the table. Chris’ face has grown more serious. “My mom’s worried.”

“Of course she is, I don’t blame her. I’m worried. Mars is… well it’s Mars! It’s not around the block.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s definitely not.” 

Chris is heading home to Connecticut tomorrow to spend the next few days with his parents. Chloe, his younger sister is coming in as well so they can all spend some time together before he has to fly down to Florida.

“Then it’s go for launch!” he said with a beaming smile, though Chris had to correct himself for the sake of accuracy. Once he’s down there the crew has to quarantine for at least ten days and go through a bunch of pre-flight checkups and procedures first. “Are you gonna watch?”

The incredulous look you gave him answered his question. “Did you really have to ask? Of course I’m going to watch the launch.” 

His eyes twinkled as he smiled back at you. “Oh and don’t worry I put you on my contact list so you can send me emails. Not sure how quickly I'll get them since CAPCOM directs it back to us. And as long as we have the right satellite coverage we can even do video calls.”

“Like Facetime?”

“In theory yeah, more like space Skype,” he laughed. “It’ll be nice to stay in touch.”

Your smile was bright in the dimness of the evening. You can’t imagine not staying in touch with Chris. The longest you had ever gone was during his Air Force training. He checked in with his parents when he first arrived and from then on it was sporadic. You were able to send him letters though and tried to write him every week though your own schooling and an apprenticeship at the Louvre had taken up a lot of time but that was how your relationship was. 

No matter where you were in life, across the world or hovering above it in the International Space Station, you always kept in touch. It’ll be harder now considering he’s going farther than ever before but you’ll make it work. 

Chris would be back by next November and his mom was already planning a big party for his return, one he’s certain you’ll be invited to. Though you haven’t seen his parents in a while you still kept in touch with them from time to time seeing as they were still friends with your own parents.

“It’s crazy to think you’re about to go to Mars.” 

Chris swipes a palm down his mouth, leaning his elbows against the table as he muses, “I know. Feels like I got the call yesterday.”

It was a night similar to this one, where Chris was in New York celebrating with you and other friends on his selection to be part of the Ares III mission. He had been working at NASA for a few years, doing biomedical research in their center in Virginia and now he was about a month out from spending two years training for his long term mission to Mars. 

He stayed at your apartment that night, continuing the celebration in your own private way. You had come a long way from learning to kiss with Chris. It wasn’t a big deal, neither was it the first time you had sex with each other. It was a special dynamic that worked for the two of you, one you don’t think you could have pulled off with anyone else. With Chris you had trust that was built up over the years. He was safe, he was your friend and this was nothing more than just sex. 

It didn’t happen too often, a couple of times here and there. You both dated a few people over the years and even though you were single at the moment you thought about the promise you made to each other as teens. “If we’re not married to other people by the time we’re thirty let’s promise we’ll marry each other.” Such a silly promise but thirty seemed so far away at the time. 

Chris couldn’t make it to celebrate for your thirtieth birthday but you did get a card from him where he joked that the wedding was off. You were in a long term relationship, one that Chris thought would lead to marriage but you ended things a year later. It wasn’t there; that natural spark that made your heart skip a beat every time they smiled brighter than the sun, or when their eyes sparkled like stars in the night every time they looked at you. 

You walked through the streets with Chris after dinner, casually strolling back towards your apartment and stretching out the inevitable goodbye that you didn’t want to say. It was so good to be with him in person again, not realizing how badly you missed it until the hours started ticking closer towards him leaving. By the time you get to your apartment Chris decided to come up stairs, wanting to spend as much of his time with you as he could. 

Chris sits comfortably on your couch, cozied up beside a large pillow. He places his wine glass down on your coffee table, needing to gesticulate with both hands as he starts getting into talking about his research. He’s been published before in numerous academic journals and now he’s going on about how excited he is for his latest topic, musculoskeletal alterations and the effects of deep space travel. 

He’s cute when he really gets into it, crinkles pulling around the corner of his eyes as his whole face lights up. You let out a shaky breath, smiling even wider yourself as you watched the passion he had for science and learning, one that matched the level you had for art and preserving their history. 

Chris apologized for rambling on, taking a sip of wine to clear the dryness from his throat. 

“So, give me the lowdown… can you jerk off in space?” 

He covered his mouth to prevent the wine he was choking on from spitting out. You couldn’t help the sly smile on your face that cracked wider the redder he became. 

“Well?”

Chris cleared his throat again. Pinching the bridge of his nose he looked down into his glass, chuckling a bit as he said, “The official stance from NASA is no comment so I’m going to stick with that.” 

“That’s not an answer!” You could barely hold a faux sneer before you broke into a smile. Teasing Chris was all in good fun, something that went both ways from the time you were young. 

You adjusted the way your legs were folded underneath you, brushing your knee against his leg. Chris lifted his arm up, a silent invitation for you to get closer and so you did, resting your head against him as his arm came around you.

Things had quieted down and you listened to the steady beat of his heart. This would be the last time you would see Chris for a long time. Your arm reached around to hold him for as long as you could.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered against him. 

Chris’ chest sunk as he exhaled a deep sigh. “I’m going to miss you too.” His arm squeezed a little tighter around you as he pressed his lips gently against your forehead. “Just look to the stars and I’ll be there.” 

His words brought a comforting smile to your face, one you shared with him as you tilted your head to look up at him. “Do you want to stay?”

The corner of his mouth tugs a little as Chris thinks about it. There’s nothing he really misses at his hotel more than he does you. The only reason he came to New York was to see you first before going home. 

“Yeah, I’d love to stay.”

You shifted yourself on top to straddle Chris, carding your fingers through his hair and taking in the gaze of his eyes that became pools of deep blue. You closed the distance between your lips, feeling his hands come around your back. Soft moans bubbled in your throat and soon you found yourself being carried to the bedroom. 

Clothes were discarded, lips were on skin that burned hotter than the stars. You writhe against him, thighs quivering around his head, reaching out to grip him by the hair, holding Chris in place as he coaxed out your release. His lips taste like you and he licks them again, savoring your sweetness as he crawls up your body. 

He tears open the condom, gathering your wetness on him as he slowly pushed in. A sinful moan falls from your lips as you feel the stretch of him inside you, inch by inch until he was fully seated. An experimental roll of his hips sets the pace for pleasure. 

Your hands graze up the curve of his arms, reaching his back and digging in half moon shapes into his skin with your nails as he thrusts into you.

“Ahh fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, moaning as his hips snapped forward. His name fell from your lips, a sweet sound that he couldn’t deny he loved hearing. 

He changed his angle, hitting you with deeper, longer strokes. His mouth found your nipple, sucking at your peak as his hips gained speed; groaning and squeezing his eyes tightly as he fucked you, ready to explode.

“Shit!” Chris hissed, backing off quickly. You’re confused and concerned, sitting up and turning the light on beside your bed to see what was wrong. “The condom broke,” he said, still catching his breath.

Chris got up to discard it in the bathroom as you sat on the bed, crossing an arm over your chest, waiting nervously. When Chris walked back in the room he apologized for that, the stiffness of his length giving you relief that he hadn’t finished so you continued. Using your hands on him as he let out soft moans, distractedly opening another condom that you rolled down on him. You straddled him, leaning forward to capture his lips for a sweet kiss first before you lined yourself up and sank down on him. 

Soon enough you were riding waves of bliss together, gripping Chris as you clenched around him, burning white hot behind your eyes. He’s right behind you, on the edge of pleasure, exploding inside you like a supernova.

Dropping your head onto his chest, it felt like your body was made of overcooked noodles that splayed loosely against him as you were desperate to catch your breath, coming down from the heights you soared to. Chris’ arms hold you close against him, his lips languidly peppering kisses to your sheen covered skin. 

When his heartbeat returned to a steady pace Chris went to the bathroom to once again discard the condom and you followed behind him to use it. He went to the kitchen to get something to drink, bringing back an ice cold glass of water for you. 

Back in bed you cuddled together, with goosebumps breaking out on your skin as Chris’ fingertips graze gently up and down your arm. Your eyes feel heavy but you don’t want to give in because when you wake up you know you’ll have to say goodbye and that’s not something you want to do. 

“You’ll stay in touch, right?” you murmured against him, as worry took root within your stomach. His quick and emphatic reply should have been enough but you couldn’t help yourself from needing to make sure you would still hear from him during the mission. “And call me? With the space Skype?”

“I promise,” he said, as a smile spread across his face. Chris’ hand stopped moving, settling on your arm and holding you close. 

“Promise me one more thing?” He hummed in response and you continued, “Stay safe up there.”

Chris tilted his head down and feeling him shift you looked up as he said, “I promise.”

In the moonlight his eyes sparkled like clear tropical waters. Slowly, a soft smile spread across your face as you stared at him. “I love you, Chris.” There was no romanticism behind it even after being together, just pure love for your friend. 

Chris exhaled, planting a kiss to your temple. “I love you too, Y/N.” 

Despite wanting to spend your remaining hours together awake you reluctantly fell asleep in his arms, tearfully parting in the morning. Two weeks later you watched as the space shuttle launched, with proud tears filling your eyes as Chris’ picture flashed on your screen along with the rest of the crew. Seeing that made you feel hopeful and overjoyed at the prospect of hearing from him soon.

“Chris… I’m pregnant.” It was a relief to finally tell him but you didn’t feel any better, uncertainty weighed heavy on your shoulders, crushing the space for your lungs to expand. Chris knows but now what?

He’s silent, his lips parted slightly and you don’t know if there’s a delay in the feed. Maybe you should have emailed it to him. You were going to at first and instead chose to word the importance of needing to speak to him in such a clandestine way that you were contacted by someone from NASA. Upon speaking to them they allowed your email to be dispatched and then you waited. 

Chris’ eyebrows knit together, his shoulders slumping down as he stared at your face through the screen. He didn’t have any doubts, you were always truthful with each other, but he still wondered how.

“We put on a new one, I thought…” 

“I thought we were good too,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. 

You weren’t just pregnant, you were pregnant with his child and based off of some quick calculations in his head you were nearing the end of your first trimester. “H-how are you? I mean, how are you feeling?”

“Physically or…” Nervous laughter bubbles out of your throat. 

This was hard on you, the physical symptoms weren’t fun but you could manage. What was more difficult was not telling anyone. It was early enough in your pregnancy that you could hide it from your family. They still lived in Hartford and hadn’t been down to visit yet but you couldn’t avoid them forever. Work was a different story. You had to let your boss know you would have to modify your duties as working around solvents and other chemicals would not be safe.

There was never a doubt in your mind about keeping the baby. When you were younger you imagined having children by now but it didn’t work out that way. It was something you were okay with, finding life fulfilling in different ways. Work was incredible, you were able to travel and though your relationships hadn’t worked out in the past you didn’t hold on to any resentments. Life was always complete and now things were going to be different. 

You wanted to speak to Chris first before telling your family because you needed to know your expectations. Chris had a life of his own and you didn’t want your choice of having a baby to make him feel obligated in any way. You were an adult; a smart, independent woman and could do this on your own.

“I know this isn’t something we planned but…” Chris exhaled, the corners of his mouth lifting upward, “There’s no one I’d rather do this with than you... I promise.” 

Chris’ eyes glisten with tears as his smile grows and you find yourself brushing away your own from the corner of your eyes. It was comforting to know Chris will be part of the baby’s life. Truthfully it would have been weird if he wasn’t in some capacity considering how close you were. For now you have a lot of time on how you’re going to figure things out for the future.

After the call Chris reflected in silence, staring out of the giant triangular windows of one of the Hermes’ common areas into the vastness of space. He was lost in thought, startled by his name being called by a crewmate. He turned to see Mark whose bright smile fell with concern upon seeing Chris’ face, asking if he was alright.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Chris responded, his tone mournful in the realization he’ll be missing the birth. He accepted the congratulatory hug Mark gave him, sighing heavily as they separated. “I always thought I’d be there for that.” 

You were due in March and Chris hated the fact that he won't be there for the first nine months of his child’s life, moments and milestones he’ll never get back. He doesn’t like leaving this all on you. He knows you can do it but you shouldn’t have to. 

“I can’t pretend this isn’t hard but don’t think of it in terms of what you’re missing, look at what you’re gaining, what you have to look forward to when you come home.” Chris nodded, his smile trying to come back. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend,” Mark teased. 

“I don’t. Y/N, she’s…” Chris’ face lights up as he thinks about you, which does not go unnoticed by Mark. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’s always meant so much to me and now…” 

Mark gave Chris an honest smile as he spoke plainly, “And now you’re having a baby.” 

With a proud smile that stretched from ear to ear he affirmed, “Yeah… we are.” 

PART 2

[ssscentral]

serotonin | for ara

Summary: He loves to rile you up - and you let him every time.

Pairing : Jungkook x female reader

Genre : Fluff, Romance, e2l (but not really), Established Relationship

Warnings : Kissing - nothing else

WC : 1.5k

Member : Lillia & Rid || @moccahobi​ & @taegularities​

A/N : HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR MAKNAE @heejinnien!!!!!! I hope your birthday is an amazing one! Some of us (@tae-cup, @hoebii, @jinings, @voiceswithoutlips, @biaswreckme, and @xiaokoo) have created a few collaborative pieces for your birthday! So take some time to celebrate and relax with our fun (and most def not quickly put together) fics! We love you so much and are so glad to be friends with you! May this birthday be an amazing one!!!! 💜💜 - Lillia

Jungkook was the epitome of hard work. If there was anyone you would’ve named as annoyingly competitive at your school, it would’ve been him - sarcastic, fierce, smart, always trying to up you whenever he could.

The science lab that you both shared was always an intense business, and the class knew how the whole lab would be punctuated by the teacher deciding which of you was more correct as soon as you and Jungkook entered the room. The semester had started one month and a half ago, but the whole team of teachers had taken note of the mess that the pair of you were. From trying to out correct each other to vying for the TA’s praise, the competition between the two of you was something that made everyone gawk and laugh at. This lab was no different.

It was a simple class to help you start familiarizing yourself with tardigrades before you did experiments on them later. You were simply tasked with drawing them and documenting the development of their eggs, but you didn’t think even such a thing could turn into a full-on war between Jungkook and you.

“So, if you look closely, some of you might have pregnant tardigrades under their microscope. The person who spots them and manages to document everything correctly, will get some chocolate from me the next time,” your teacher encouraged you, always the nicest sweetheart of your college.

Curse Jungkook’s superior art skills because even though both of you had pregnant tardigrades, it was like comparing a toddler’s hard work to something that belonged in MOMA.

“Teacher…” Jungkook shot you a knowing look after interrupting more of the teacher’s praise of his diagram.

“Yes, Mister Jungkook?”

“Well, you see… I know you expressed a want to hang up the diagram… but I honestly don’t feel like it’s the best I can do. Especially since Y/N knocked my elbow a few times and even scribbled something on my paper. I mean, I tried to make the scribbles look like part of the diagram… but I know I could do better. Could I try to redo it for extra credit?”

“Miss Y/L/N. Did you really try to ruin his work?” 

You floundered some and glared at the lying Jungkook, “N-no! I mean I did bump into him, but when our chairs are so close together, it is bound to happen! It wasn’t to try to sabotage him.” 

The teacher’s eyes narrowed before she nodded at Jungkook and continued on with the lesson, her better nature taking what you said as truth… as it was! That “bumping” was simple brushing him… that you might have intended, but still! Not maliciously! When the teacher’s back was turned to you and Jungkook, you sent him a glare, to which he smirked back before focusing on the teacher again who was pointing out more details about the tardigrades that needed to be added to diagram labels. 

And although the lesson was still not over - technically - she spoke up as soon as you and Jungkook handed in your work. “Perfect! As promised, Mister Jeon and Miss Y/L/N may leave earlier - you worked hard today again!” your professor announced, clapping her hands and spurring on the rest of the class to do the same - you could clearly see how annoyed and unmotivated your classmates were, and it made you chuckle.

Grinning back at Jungkook, you put the strap of your bag around your shoulder, knowing that he’d follow you very soon. He always did. The corridor was empty, the classes still going on as you heard his faint footsteps behind you. You rolled your eyes - no matter how many times you beat him in class (even if today, you only beat him by answering more stuff correctly), he’d always stay right next to you.

You walked in silence for quite some while until you stepped out into the pleasantly warming sun, the fresh wind grazing your skin and playing with your hair softly. There was a park you’d always go to, one that belonged to the campus, but mostly stood empty despite the large number of students at your school. Most of the students spent their days flitting between classes and fulfilling last minute assignments and they barely had time to look or go to the park that was ever so slightly out of the way from the other, less cool, outdoor spaces your college offered. 

Considering the fact that beautiful flowers and plants bloomed on the grounds of the small park, you felt like the students who never cared to visit were stupid and oblivious to the park’s amazingness. It was a perfect place to study, relax or spend time with friends, and now that you were released from your last class of the day, you didn’t yet feel the urge to go back to your dorm room yet. You approached a bench, your bench, directly next to the swing set.

As you almost reached it, still aware of how close your rival was, Jungkook suddenly grabbed your wrist to pull you close to him, his face just inches away. Trapping you in his arms, his eyes wandered to your lips.

“Aren’t you tired of following me around all the time?” you asked with a bratty smile, throwing back your hair as you awaited his answer.

“How could I ever?” And without a warning, he pressed his lips against yours before you could even give him your devilish smirk that he loved so much.

That was bound to happen, you knew it, and you relished in the intense feeling his careful touch gave you. He kissed you gently and with so much unsaid emotion that you tried to match, enjoying the soft touches of his hands against your body and the feel of his firm body under your hands. All of this, you both and your secret relationship, had started not long ago. Always the bantering couple that the school loved so much and you had long been selected as the ultimate OTP - something that meant one true pairing nowadays, many students asking if the class rivalry had ever become more.

As he kissed you, mouth moving against yours tenderly, softly, affectionately, the excitement in your body increased, wanting nothing more than to stay here in the empty park with him forever, pressed against his chest. In his arms with your lips locked together, nothing else seemed to matter. Not his insane art skills or who outperformed the other in class or grades. It was just the tender kisses and touches of him.

When he let go, stroking your cheek with his fingertips gently, he smiled endearingly. “Seeing you all riled up and motivated to beat me is so hot.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you pushed him away slightly, but his hands on your waist stayed stubbornly, firmly holding you in his grip as he laughed at your expression. “Good that you think that. I just can’t believe how much fun you have annoying the hell out of me in front of our teachers.”

“You’re the cutest when riled up,” Jungkook said with a smirk.

“And I can’t believe you said that I scribbled on your diagram today! We are stooping to lies now?”

Jungkook laughed lightly, one of his hands traveling down your arm to hold your hand. “Well… You got all pink when I brought up the bumps. I enjoyed watching you flush. You’re just so cute, Y/N.” He pinched your cheek as he said the last words.

What? You blinked slowly, a robotic laughing coming out of you. “Jungkook. I love you… but don’t do that again.”

“What? Can you repeat? I didn’t hear?” Jungkook’s ears were pink as he looked at you hopefully, his eyes glistening and shining as he spoke.

“Don’t do it again.” 

“Nooo! What was the first part? I wanna hear it again.” He whined and squeezed your hand tightly while bringing it up to his chest. 

Mimicking a deep thought process, you pursed your lips and scrunched your brows together. “No. You’ve not been a good boy.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock as his lips parted wordlessly, his hand going slack in yours. Laughing excitedly, you quickly removed yourself from Jungkook, set your bag down, and started off away from him.

“You might have to catch me to get me to say anything more!” you shouted when you were only a meter or so away, quickly catching Jungkook’s attention once again.

Even from how far away you were, you saw the tell tale competitiveness flow into him as he raced off after you. A squeal left you when he came closer and you quickened your pace, but it was no use. Jungkook was so much faster and stronger than you and before you knew it, he had swooped you up in his arms and spun you around.

“Tell me, you love meeee!” Jungkook whined childly as he set you down, pouting at you as he started to pepper your face and neck with soft kisses.

His kisses tickled you, and he enjoyed that every single time. “I-I lo-love yo-you!” you managed to squeal out before once again, he was kissing your lips.

“Good, because I love you too.” 

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

This is my first collab fic and I could not be more excited! I'm so thankful that I can be part of the group!

The AU for this month was Sex Work. The Masterlist for this collab can be found here. Please take some time to check out everyone's contributions! There are other fics and amazing art!

That being said here is my fic, big BIG shout out to @doinmybesthere for being an amazing beta reader and sweet angel bb. ily Emme!

Please please please read the warnings. They are there for a reason!

Warnings: consensual noncon, mentions of being burnt, stabbing and blood; no prep penetration, disrespectful use of the word "whore", blackmail, psychological abuse?, Mineta (nuff said) he gets what's comin to him

You’re in the doctor’s office getting a regular checkup when you overhear the nurses in the station next to you talking.

“Look! They posted the new hero rankings today.”

“I forgot those were today, too bad they can’t have the conference during the pandemic. I miss seeing Deku all cute and blushing.”

“FUCK” In your brief moment of panic you forgot where you were. You cringe and look at the nurses, trying your best not to look like you were gonna be sick. “Sorry ladies, didn’t mean to yell.” No point in offering an explanation. You wouldn’t be able to tell them anything anyway.

As you very impatiently wait for your blood results to come back you check the tacky red cell phone you have to keep with you at all times. You had put it on silent since you were in the doctor’s office and you were glad you did. Taking a quick look at your screen had your stomach dropping into your ass.

M.M: Gonna move my appointment up to today.

M.M: You better get ready. I’m not happy.

M.M: I’m sure you saw the postings. Number 36.

M.M: I made sure to pay for any accidents in advance.

M.M: I’ll see you tonight.

Why does he have to be so fucking horrible? Accidents my ass.

The messages make your skin crawl, you should have figured the hero rankings would piss him off but honestly you never paid enough attention. With a heavy sigh you opened up your web browser and pull up the list.

“Number 36...number 36…. Number 36…” When you finally reached the hero you were looking for, you let out a sigh.

Hero Ranking Number 36: The Rainy Season Hero Froppy

Well at least you had her outfit already, for some reason she was one your client asked for a lot. Not that you wanted to ask him why, not with the way his black eyes looked whenever he saw you dressed up like her.

I don’t know if I should feel glad that he isn’t actually taking this out on her. Or upset that I’ve had to deal with this for months.

“L/N, Y/N?” The doctor walks up holding their clipboard and closing the privacy screen. Your file almost too much for the metal clip at the top. “Your test results came back negative and your burns seem to have healed very well. I would tell you that any strenuous activity should be avoided but we both know you can’t do that.”

Their poor attempt at humor had your stomach rolling. “Haha anyways Doc, I think I’m gonna need another medkit to take home today. I can schedule my next appointment online, right?”

You can’t handle the thinly veiled pity in their eyes and look down, reaching over to your side to grab your purse. You hear them moving around and a dark blue plastic box is put on your lap.

“If I remember correctly this is your favorite color, right? You are able schedule an appointment online but if you would like I can schedule it for you. How about in two days? Afternoon work for you?”

You look up after clutching the kit to your chest, you know they are just trying to be nice. All of the nurses are especially nice to you and as endearing as it might be to some people, to you it just feels dirty.

“Afternoon is perfect, thanks Doc.” You get up and walk towards the privacy screen. Before leaving you stop for a moment “Blue ismy favorite color.”

As you make your way back to your living quarters you scroll through the internet looking at every picture of the Pro-Hero Froppy you can find. Your quirk can project a person’s desires onto your body by reading them in their eyes. It’s easier when the person has a clear view of what or who they want. However, your client’s desires are such a jumbled mess that it’s easier if you know what it is beforehand.

Hopefully, I can act like her enough that I don’t have to look at his desires this time. I can’t stand how disgusting they make me feel.

You pass by a few familiar faces on your way back to your rooms but don’t pay them any mind. They in turn leave you alone, most of them knowing that when you have that look on your face you were in a mood.When you first were offered a position at the brothel you thought it would be easy money. You had been stripping for several years, known for how you looked different to everyone who saw your dancing. The beautiful, enchanting, flexible Erised. You had built up your quirks ability to be able to project almost a full clubs worth of desires. Sure, it caused extreme fatigue and chronic migraines but the money you raked in was well worth it.

A few months ago

After an especially successful night a patron walks up to you after you leave the stage.

“I have a job opportunity for you, courtesy of my employer.” He hands you a card you read “Heroes Consulting Agency” in bold silver letters.

“I’m a stripper hun, not sure I can do the type of consulting you’re looking for.” You go to hand it back, but they put their hand up.

“I’m afraid I must insist, why don’t we treat you to lunch and you can listen to our proposal?”

You put your hand back down and study them. They are dressed in a white button up with a vest, definitely out of place in a strip club. You would look in their eyes, but they didn’t really have any, their whole body seemed to be made of dark smoke. You don’t work in the nicest of places so someone with their kind of full body quirk isn’t unusual.

“Alright, I give. I’m not really one to pass up free food.” The rational side of your brain is telling you that you have more than enough money to buy your own food but the stingy part telling you to take it while you can is a little louder.

“Excellent choice Miss Erised. Someone will meet you at the address on that card tomorrow at around 5pm? Should give you enough time to recover from the side effects of your quirk.” They give a slight bow and walk off towards the exit, a large something getting up from a seat and following closely behind.

Sam, one of the waitresses walks up to you with a tray filled with drinks. Her normally short stature elevated with high heeled leather boots. “Did you know that person Y/N?”

Oh man, I do not have the energy for this.

You turn to her and survey the tray before grabbing something that looked like a fruity cocktail. “No, but they offered me a job. Gonna go have lunch with them tomorrow.” Sipping from the glass you tuck the card into your bra, making sure to not show it to the girl.

“That’s weird, don’t they know you’re a stripper? What is someone dressed that nicely want to hire you for? Also did that person look familiar to you or is that just me?” Any normal person wouldn’t be able to keep up with her unending questions, but you had known her for years. The tray in her hands tips dangerously to the left but she balances it out without a second thought.

Guess she does have to be quick on her toes to be a waitress at a strip club.

“They were here for my dance so yes they do know, either way I’m getting free food so…”

She huffs, aware of your attitude for anything “free”.

You finish the drink and place the empty glass back taking a couple bills from your bag and tucking them into her apron.

“Thanks for the drink Sam, but I gotta leave before my headache hits.” You walk off before she can say anything further. You really wanna be nice to her but her endless energy really gets on your nerves sometimes.

By the time you make it to your modest apartment, you can feel the pain starting behind your eyes. You drop your stuff by the door without turning on any lights and walk to the box safe hidden in the kitchen. After you make sure all the money is secure you grab a glass of water and head to the bedroom. The bottle of pain killers already set out on your nightstand. You should really take a shower but for now, you strip down, take a few pills, drink the whole glass of water, and lay down. It takes a while for the pills to kick in but once they do you finally fall asleep.

When you finally wake up the next morning your headache is gone, and you have to piss like no one’s business. You grumble as you stretch your tight sore muscles and get up to go to the bathroom. After taking care of business, you get into some light clothes and walk into the kitchen to make some food. Thankfully, you had some leftover rice and spam in the fridge, so you pop that in the microwave. You put the kettle on for some green tea and down another glass of water as it heats up.

Remembering the offer from yesterday and the promise of free food you pad over to your pile of things by the door and grab their card. It’s sleek looking with a plain black background and silver lettering. The address isn’t something you recognize right away so you look it up on your phone.

“What the fuck?” Why is this place in a business park?

You scroll down and check the street view; the building is a high rise surrounded by a mostly empty parking lot. The entrance of the building is blurred, probably to keep the privacy of anyone entering or exiting.

“Well, I guess it’s a nice gig. Better dress the part.” Or maybe you’re gonna get murdered.

“Wow, I really have to stop watching all those true crime shows.” You put the card in your wallet and head back to the kitchen. The microwave beeps and the kettle whistles shortly after. When you’re done eating you put the dishes in the sink to soak and head to the bathroom to finally take a shower.

By the time you have finished showering the whole bathroom is filled with steam and your body has a pink flush to it. You open the door to air it out and finish cleaning up for the day. Your outfit consists of your nicest jeans with ankle boots, a long sleeve blouse and a dark cardigan. You grab one of your smaller over the shoulder purses and leave your apartment.

One of the things you allowed yourself to really splurge on was a car. Public transportation was not as reliable as it could be and with your hours not the safest either.

By the time you make it to the building the sun is starting to set, giving the sky beautiful pink to blue coloring. As you park and get out of your car a young woman walks up to you.

“Welcome Miss Erised! Please follow me and I will escort you through the building.” The woman’s blonde hair is in two messy buns, her face childlike. Her voice was high pitched enough to grate on your nerves a bit, but you ignored it.

As you follow the person through the lobby you take a glance around. Looks like a high-end hotel lobby. There is a front desk area with a marble counter top, women that are dressed in matching button ups with their hair up in buns or ponytails. Random potted plants and small trees dot the area, and a nice chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling. No one besides the women at the front desk are in the area.

“Doesn’t seem to be busy right now.” You didn’t even really mean for her to hear you, but she did, and you sounded like an asshole.

They turn their head slightly with a knowing smirk. “It would seem that way wouldn’t it?”

Conversation halts while you stand in the elevator which you were thankful for. They had chosen a floor close to the middle of the building, which gave you just enough time to rethink your life choices.

By the time you got to your floor you are tired of the silence. Normally you hate small talk, but you figured you would give it a shot. “Do you like your job?”

The woman turns to you and smiles, here canines peeking out a bit while shrugging her shoulders. “It keeps me busy, plus I get to make so many friends.” The gleam in her eyes flashes menacingly for a quick second, you decide to pretend you didn’t see it.

As you get to the end of the hall, she opens a door and gestures you inside, closing it behind you. There is a nice desk to the left of the door, other than that the room is sparce. The person sitting in the chair has quite an eclectic look about him. Grey hair parted to the side, shrew eyes behind circular wire rimmed glasses, a gold chain peeks out from the slightly open white button up with a purple blazer. He reeks of cigarette smoke the evidence of his habit tossed into the half-filled ash tray on the desk.

“So nice of you to join me Miss Y/N. Why don’t you have a seat, we can talk about your new position.” He gestures to the only other chair a smirk on his face that shows of his missing tooth.

“I haven’t accepted the job yet Giran, and I thought I told you I don’t want to work for you.” You aren’t used to seeing him in this type of place. But you do know him so there is no need to put on a show. You lean back in the chair and cross your arms.

“How rude of me, you won’t be working for me, but I have been given authority to hire for this company.”

You don’t bat an eye; most large companies use outside help for hiring. “What is this position you would like offer me?”

“This company provides heroes with a way to alleviate their… desires in a safe and discrete way.”

“So, you hire prostitutes for heroes to have sex without worrying about anyone telling the press about it.”

“That is correct.”

“I don’t know if your just stupid or if you forgot but I’m a stripper not a hooker.” You sit up in your chair fully ready to leave the room.

“They would provide you with a fully furnished apartment, medical coverage with 24/7 access to their fully trained medical staff. Any cash given to you by your clients you can keep, however they would take a percentage out of the money they initially pay for your services.”

“Let’s say I’m a little interested, how much is the initial pay for my services?” You want to deny the offer, nothing wrong with having sex for money but it isn’t really your thing.

Giran doesn’t answer right away, instead putting out what is left of his cigarette only to pull another one out of his blazer and lighting it up. “The starting hourly rate is $2,500 an hour, they would take 30 percent from that.”

Holy shit, that’s as much as I make in a day and I would be making it an hour? You keep your face neutral but something in your eyes must have tipped him off.

“You would start tomorrow; most clients keep a contract with their favorite employee and we actually have someone lined up for you already. He has extremely specific tastes and you are the perfect person to fill in.”

“I’ll have to talk to the club owner; would it be possible to start later?” You don’t want to seem to eager, especially not in front of him.

“I don’t see that as a problem, they can give you one week but that’s it.”

You stay silent, making it look like you’re thinking about it. After a moment you lean forward in your chair and stick your hand out. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

Giran grabs you hand and gives it a firm shake. “If you ever need help or have any questions call the number on the card. Now I believe you were offered dinner, let me take you to one of my favorite places.”

You let his hand go and rise from the chair. As Giran comes around the desk and walks towards the door, he stops for a moment and turns to you. “Welcome to the team.”

Dinner was actually genuinely nice; the food was good, and you were able to have a comfortable conversation with Giran. Of course, he didn’t tell you anything about himself, but you had no problems with that, you didn’t wanna share anything to personal about yourself either. He dropped you back off at your car after dinner and shook your hand again before driving off.

By the time you got home you had decided what you were gonna tell the club owner and mentally packed your apartment. Not wanting to take all of your things you moved most of it to a secure storage facility. Having had it for a few years already in order to store the overabundance of clothes you owned.

After the week was up you had quit your job and packed all of your belongings. You realize you don’t know where you are supposed to go so you pull out the card and call the number.

“Hello, how can I assist you?”

“Giran never told me where I would be moving my stuff to. Could you give me the address?” You pick at your nails while waiting for him to answer.

“Of course, Miss Erised. Will you be needing any assistance for your move?”

He sounds so polite; I wonder if he is always like this.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own thank you.”

He gives you the address and let you know that you can call if you need any additional information.

“Good luck Miss Erised.”

When you get back to your apartment you immediately go into the shower and wash up, using the tea tree oil that Froppy had said she uses in an interview.

I don’t understand how people can like this stuff, but he gets easier to handle if I smell like those women.

When you are done you towel dry your hair and make sure to lotion your whole body. When your hair is dry enough you straighten it and leave it down. He likes it better when its down.

You go to your closet and rifle through until finding the very skimpy version of Froppys hero costume. All it really has in common with the original is the tan harness and the green with black and yellow stripes. Otherwise, it is a one-piece bikini without a crotch. You grab your black leather over the knee boots and get dressed. After checking the time, you give yourself a moment to mentally prepare.

I hate this, I hate him. Disgusting filthy little bug. A false hero, a plague. I can’t wait to leave this place.

Standing in the middle of your room you close your eyes and take deep breaths, allowing your consciousness to drift. You have found that the best way to endure these sessions is to detach yourself from the situation. Only focusing on the absolute necessary and maintaining the effects of your quirk. Giving yourself another minute to get into character you walk to the door joining your apartment to the “service room”.

Thankfully, he hasn’t shown up yet, you shut the door hearing the lock click into place, the door seamlessly vanishing into the wall. Sitting on the edge of the bed you face the door that Mineta will walk through and wait.

No matter how many times we do this I never lose the feeling of wanting to vomit while bathing in bleach.

When he walks in you see that he is wearing his hero costume, as atrocious as it is. He never really deviated from the original design. You immediately start your performance.

“Mineta? What am I doing here? kero” You clasp your hands together in front of your chest and look around frightfully.

“Hello Tsu, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” He walks up, taking off his gloves and throwing them to the side.

“I don’t understand, do you know where- “Your sentence is cut off, pain in your cheek sharp and hot.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to talk Miss thirty sixth hero.” He stands there with his hand still up as you cup your cheek and look up at him, the tears in your eyes real. He pulls his hand back again as if to slap you and you flinch.

“Good girl, now finish taking off my outfit for me.” Mineta walks back a few steps and holds his arms out. Your fingers are clumsy as you take it of piece by piece.

Mineta abruptly grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks your head back. You grab his hand with both of yours trying to ease his grip.

“Do you think if you do it slow enough, I’ll get bored and go away?” He pulls harder. “Huh? You really think you’re gonna get out of this don’t you.” He tosses you towards the bed and you scramble to get back on your feet.

The tears in your eyes have started to spill over and you start babbling. “Please let me go Mineta, I don’t know what I did but please pleasejust forgive me kero. I won’t tell anyone about this just please don’t hurt me kero.”

He doesn’t answer you, just finishes taking off his outfit before he is walking towards you again, a vicious gleam in his beady eyes.

You back up until the back of your legs hits the bed. You open your mouth to speak but before you can utter a single word, he slaps you again.

“I told you not to speak unless I told you to once already. Now I’m gonna have to punish you, aren’t I?” He shoves you onto the bed and follows, using his knees to push your legs open he sits up and gives himself a few pumps.” No need to prep you, I want this to hurt.”

You are sobbing at this point, your hands covering your face when you feel him push into you. A scream rips out of your throat and you reach forward to push him away.

“You know Tsu, these meetups have been the best. I’m thinking next time I will find the REAL you and have even more fun.” He closes his eyes a leans his head back, fully immersed in only getting himself off.

To engrossed in his own world, he doesn’t realize that you have gone still. Your tears have stopped, and you have pulled your hands back from him.

DISGUSTING

“Find the real me?”

VILE

You break character, bringing your full consciousness back. You voice is just a whisper at first, so he doesn’t hear you, doesn’t stop thrusting.

FALSE HERO

“Find the REAL me?!” You are screaming at him now.

He finally stops, hearing you the second time. For a second you see fear in his eyes before they fill with rage.

MONSTER

“Hey! You better start doing the job I paid you for, I don’t come here for you to question me.” He lifts his hand up, as if to slap you again. Before his hand comes down you grab it, squeezing until he yelps in pain.

This job is over, he isn’t worth keeping around anymore.

“You think I give a shit about a little piss ant like you?!” As you sit up, he yanks his arm away and pulls out of you. Stumbling back, he starts shaking a finger in your direction.

“You can’t talk to me like that! You’re just a whore!”

You dart forward before he can put more distance between you and grab him by the neck. As you pick him up you snarl and let your quirk fade away.

“I may be a whore but I not a monster like you. You are just a fake hero, a plague on this world and I will get rid of every single one of you.” You throw him onto the ground still holding on to his neck and squeeze.

“In other news, Minoru Mineta also known as the pro hero Grape Juice has gone missing after several videos of him have gone viral. He was last seen leaving a brothel that has requested to remain nameless. The videos contain triggering scenes of the pro hero having relations with a prostitute while she is dressed in various hero suits the resemble his old female classmates. He even refers to them by name. The videos contain triggering images, and it is recommended to not seek them out. The original videos have since been taken down but are reuploaded onto the internet on several other sites. The prostitute shown in the videos has also gone missing. Any information on the whereabouts- “

The T.V. turns off, the voice of the news anchor no longer filling the dimly lit bar. The people present remain silent for a moment before a man with burns all over his body starts to laugh.

“You could have really fucked that up Doll. Good thing we got enough evidence.” You sneer at him, making sure you change your appearance to match your own desire. He flinches when he sees his own face.

“I wish you had cut him! There wasn’t enough blood to keep his appearance up for awfully long!” The young woman with two messy blond buns in her hair twirls a knife around.

“I’m terribly sorry Toga, but I didn’t have anything sharp with me.” You pick at your nails and look over at Kurogiri, who is busy pouring a glass of whiskey for Dabi. “Do I get a break after this one or do you and boss man have another gig for me?”

[mythicamagic]

wow! that's an amazing list. “i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met”

A continuation of other tumblr prompts I’ve made into a fic - here

Hopefully chapter four will be the end lolol this fic has been far longer than I intended it to be.

---

Kagome stared out at passing scenery beyond her window with a glazed look dulling her eyes. Heavy thoughts carried her attention far away from the mundane train ride. She hadn't visited Kyoto in years, and especially not for such a special reason before.

Shippo's voice had sounded so strange on the phone. Mature, but not overly deep, maintaining its playfulness. He'd invited her over for a visit right away.

A 'bing!' noise roused her enough to check her phone- which showed a picture of Natsuki posing with a spear and fresh kill.

Kagome snorted, resting her chin on her knuckles. There were a few things about Natsuki that she was surprised Sesshoumaru hadn't commented on.

Number one; her boyfriend was a demon.

And number two; he was, specifically, an inuyoukai. A mongrel. She imagined Sesshoumaru felt mighty smug to know she'd found a demon of the same species as him to date. Natsuki being of mixed breeding surely made the Daiyouki feel all the more superior.

But Kagome had never cared about such things. She'd loved Inuyasha once, too.

The short version of their 'getting together' just two months prior was that she'd located a demon bar a few years ago and had been dating youkai ever since, using the place as a means to meet them. The relief of finding the secret den of long-forgotten youkai had been unparalleled. Kagome now knew exactly how to locate and see through glamorous thanks to years of experience.

She'd found out through the process of elimination that humans just kind of...weren't enough for her. Kagome needed the youki, the rush- the bite of claws, talons or fangs.

Natsuki was one of many in a long line of potential 'forever' partners, but Kagome had long since stopped expecting marriage down the line. If they lasted, that was fine. If not, that was fine too.

She had resolved never to fall hard for someone again.

Natsuki left Tokyo a few days prior to go on a hunting trip with his pack in a remote location up in the mountains, a monthly tradition.

'Can you skip it this time?' Kagome had asked. 'I'd just...really like it if you could come to Kyoto with me?'

'But I don't know your fox friend.'

'Doesn't matter- he hasn't seen me in 500 years. I would feel so much better if you were there.'

Natsuki looked as though she'd spat in his breakfast. 'Ah, uh-' he ran an awkward hand through his light-brown hair. 'I guess?'

The hesitancy and look in his eyes- begging to be let off the hook- made Kagome force a smile and drop the subject.

She sighed, figuring they'd probably break up soon. There wasn't really anything wrong with their relationship, just a difference in values and priorities.

It seemed to be the norm. No huge fight. No big dramatic breakup. Usually she even stayed friends with her exes.

Sesshoumaru was the outlier in all things.

She made certain not to tell the Daiyoukai of her impending singleness. If he was irritatingly optimistic now- Kagome imagined he'd be a nightmare to shake off if she were available.

But he'd stop if I outright told him to never speak to me again.

Her lips thinned, stomach turning at the mere thought.

For the rest of the journey, she resolved not to think about him. And failed miserably.

----

Shippo had greeted her at the door with an enormous hug the second she'd arrived at his hilltop home. Brilliant red hair had grown longer, swept back into a ponytail. Since his house perched a little further out from most of the houses, he wore no glamour. The pointed ears and foxtails- five of them- Kagome counted, were on full display.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she hugged him back fiercely.

His wife was pleasant, though a little eccentric for a racoon youkai. She'd made a 'welcome' banner and everything for Kagome's arrival.

Three young kits with dark circle markings around their eyes raced around the house- which had crayon drawings sprawled all over the walls at waist-height. Shippo and his wife seemed to have given up on house maintenance, but they were a happy family.

Blue eyes softened as Kagome sat with him in the relative privacy of his art studio. She was so pleased he'd found happiness. As they talked, she bent down- reaching into her bag for her phone to show him some pictures of her workplace- only for it to tip over.

A small bottle of pills rolled out, stopping by his foot.

Kagome paled. She glanced away from his questioning look as he handed them back to her. "Reiki suppression pills?" he asked.

"How'd you know?"

"I've got friends in Tokyo. You're not the only priestess who secretly dates demons," he shrugged, pinning her with a calculating look. "But, it's kind of a shame you feel the need to take them."

Kagome forced a smile, tucking them away, "yeah well- it's because I'm so big and strong," she joked. "I haven't met a demon in Tokyo who could withstand my aura if I really let it out. Taking these is easier. Gives demons the 'flavour' of dating a miko without actually getting burned. It just thins my powers a little."

Shippo nodded in acceptance and swiftly changed topics since it made her uncomfortable. He chattered on about his life, detailing the 500 year gap between when they'd seen each other last. Apparently, after Miroku and Sango had passed, he'd taken to spending more time with Sesshoumaru. When Inuyasha had died, he'd started living with the Daiyoukai permanently.

"You...did?"

He nodded, hands wrapped around his steaming mug of tea. A handmade bracelet clasped around his wrist, and the mug was half-melted, made from clay. Clearly they'd both been crafted by three well-meaning kids. "I guess we were gonna talk about him eventually," he smirked. "I promise not to be biased, okay? Sure, he saved my ass, but you're still my favourite."

Warmth flooded her heart, and Kagome giggled a little despite herself. "You're talking like we're your divorced parents or something," she mused, sobering. Taking a long breath, she stared at her own misshapen mug. "What happened?" she asked quietly. "Why didn't he create a pure-blooded heir?"

Shippo sighed, sweeping a hand through voluminous red hair. "He chased after you pretty much a second after you left through the well. Only he couldn't get through."

Her chest tightened, body stiffening.

"He's told me before though...that regretting what happened wouldn't have been enough, and maybe it was better he didn't stop you. He still felt the same at the time, deep down; that only a pure-blooded heir should take over the Western Lands to ensure he was survived by a long-living heir. He was gonna do it," Shippo muttered. "He was prepared to lay with an inuyoukai to produce an heir, but when the time came he just...couldn't. It frustrated him for a long time."

Kagome took a sip of her lukewarm tea, lips thinning. "He could've taken a mate. It didn't have to be some random woman."

"Heh, yeah but his inuyoukai instincts had already chosen a mate," Shippo winked at her. "And no matter how much he tried to force logic onto himself, his instincts refused to budge. You weren't dead, so in his mind, he couldn't move on. He's remained your captive all this time."

Her eyes widened, swallowing. "That sounds terrible!" she burst, frowning. "What the hell...I'd resent that. Why doesn't he hate me?"

"Hard to explain but...he could have moved on, Kagome," the kit sighed. "If he really wanted to. He's the one who lacked the desire to change how he felt about you. So, despite some relationships, Sesshoumaru has pretty much maintained his bachelor lifestyle."

Kagome stood from her seat, setting down her tea and distractedly looking at Shippo's art pieces, picking up a sketchbook and flipping through it.

Sharp green eyes searched her guarded features. "You're still in love with him, right?"

"Some habits are hard to kick," she said softly, pausing on one sketch. Her vision grew blurry.

Shippo rose and swept the shuddering miko into a hug before she could drop the sketch of Sango and Miroku. He held her for a long time, and they moved on to talking about their friends. About all the things they'd done and the happiness they'd shared.

"M-maybe I...left too quickly," Kagome mumbled, wiping at her wet cheeks.

"Nah, don't get that thought stuck in your head," Shippo rested a hand on her head, gently ruffling the dark strands. "You wanted distance between you and Sesshoumaru. It's not your fault the well shut."

"Why did..." swallowing thickly, she looked up at him, oddly feeling like a child in comparison to his steady, easy-going presence. Like nothing in the world could shock or frighten the little kit anymore. "It took him 6 years to come talk to me, why is that?"

Shippo's smile turned slightly sad. "He wouldn't want me to tell you. In fact, he'd kill me for giving you this-" Shippo reached into his pocket and took out a vial.

Kagome understood what it was almost immediately, accepting the glamour with a perplexed look.

He then scribbled down the name of a random park in Tokyo she hadn't visited before, handing it over with a smirk. "Put that glamour on and visit this park on either Tuesday or Thursday, weather permitting. You'll find him near the duck pond."

She arched a brow, eyeing the vial. "He'll recognise me, even with a glamour on."

"Nah, that's my own creation- and I'm pretty darn brilliant at magic now!" he puffed out his chest, tilting his chin up in a very Sesshoumaru-like manner. Shippo then smiled warmly, taking the sketchbook and tearing out a page. "He's not being honest with you, but it's not outta nefarious purposes. You'll see," he reassured her. "He's changed. Even if he's still an asshole."

Kagome accepted the page, freezing. Her fingers stiffened, emotion clogging her throat at all the implications that came with the picture. She couldn't help but cry again in the safety of Shippo's arms- promptly bursting into tears while on the train ride home too.

Shippo's sketch remained clutched in her hands.

The weight of so much wasted time rested upon her heavily, making the woman bend low in her seat, ignoring the stares of other passengers and letting out several years of loneliness and disappointment. How her skin had ached and burned up with a fever of remembrance- straining for a demon lord to take her wrists and kiss her palms like he once had.

---

Overcast skies blocked out the sunshine that Tuesday, so she wondered if he'd show. The glamour had made her look like a 40-year old, a few grey streaks in her magically short hair. Brown eyes stared back at her instead of blue. She smelled like lavender and home cooking. Kagome sat upon a bench and pretended to read beside the duck pond. An available bench sat further away, nearer to the empty play park.

It was there that a dark-haired man eventually sat, five children having followed him. A lanky teen took a seat next to him, his hair short and grey- eyes milky white with blindness. Kagome squinted from behind her book, sensing he was a snake youkai. Two young hanyous of differing species immediately ran to the play park, squealing. One had concealed horns, the other hiding their leopard spots behind a glamour.

A human girl around the age of 11 carried a toddler to the edge of the duck pond, talking quietly with him and pointing to the ducks.

Kagome held back the hot sting of tears, forcing her gaze to the book in her hands and robotically turning a page.

"Shinto needs to get out of his room," the snake youkai was muttering sourly.

"There is little I can do. Did you wish for me to carry him kicking and screaming to the park with us?" Sesshoumaru snorted, elbows bent to rest on his knees.

Kagome glanced at him furtively from the corner of her eye.

Gone was the easy confidence he'd presented to her during their encounters- the impeccable dress-sense and untouchable air of a bachelor. He looked like a mess. Or rather, a single parent struggling to juggle too much at once. He wore a jacket that had seen better days, hair dishevelled and slight lines under his eyes.

"Maybe that would've been better," his adopted child was muttering, soon sighing and glancing to the side as Sesshoumaru toyed with his phone. "Do you even have her number?"

Sesshoumaru arched a brow, feigning ignorance. "Hm?"

"You know who I am referring to. Just ask for it from Uncle Shippo."

Dark lashes lowered, followed by a rich, silky chuckle that made Kagome's skin warm. "Such underhanded methods, Hiroji," he teased, "no wonder you're not popular with women."

Hazy eyes gazed in his general direction flatly, huffing. "Please refrain from trying to dodge the question. Have you actually asked this 'Kagome' woman out yet?"

"I invited her to coffee."

"Such a cheap date, Papa!" the human girl by the duck pond smiled, carrying her brother back to them. "Couldn't you have invited her ice-skating, or to a fancy restaurant?"

"Or to the park!" one of the Hanyous yelled from the swings.

Sesshoumaru cut his eyes to grey skies fondly, accepting the toddler from his daughter. "The location does not matter. Miss Higurashi is not easily swayed," he uttered, large hands toying with little boots. The toddler giggled, kicking his legs. "Initially, I wished to bury her with gifts, but she would merely see that as an attempt to 'buy' her. No, I sense only a display of humility and regret will soften her opinion of me, however that seems quite impossible."

"Hm? Why's that?" his daughter asked.

"Because I do not wish to use you all as an example of my having 'changed.' It would feel as though you are mere tools for my redemption," brown eyes slid away. "My mindset altered gradually over the centuries. No large thing triggered it. I know of no other way to prove myself other than introducing her to you."

Kagome could tell by the twitching of his fingers and the way he kept brushing them over his jaw absentmindedly that he was itching for a drag of his pipe. She'd wondered if he still occasionally smoked. He must've decided not to around his children.

"Sounds like heavy stuff," the girl hummed, patting his shoulder in consolation. "Can't you just say-" she cleared her throat, voice deepening into a poor imitation of Sesshoumaru's- "Miko, I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met. Fall into my arms~"

Deep brown eyes flattened, and he playfully shoved a hand into her face. "Things are not so easily fixed, Akiko."

"I see. Well, don't worry! If it doesn't work out, we can all go ice-skating instead!"

Sesshoumaru tsked, sinking back into his seat and allowing the toddler to snuggle up on his chest. "How dull. I'd much prefer to go on a date with a beautiful woman than babysit you brats."

Akiko only giggled and whined good-naturedly, calling him a 'meanie' before running off to join the Hanyous on the swings.

Left in silence, the Daiyoukai's brows knitted together, thoughts clearly far away.

Mild concern softened Hiroji's boyish features. "You should try talking to her again," he said quietly, so faintly Kagome could barely hear it.

"Hn, and why is that?"

Shifting, the snake demon glanced sightlessly in Kagome's direction- causing her blood to freeze in her veins. "I suspect she may be more receptive to speaking with you now, that is all. Call it a hunch."

Stiff shoulders slowly relaxed upon realising he wasn't going to expose her. After a few minutes, Kagome rose from her spot and slipped away from the park.

In the comfort of her own apartment, Kagome gazed at the sketch Shippo had given her; Sesshoumaru sleeping without a glamour obscuring his exotic features. Resting on mokomoko, his knees, and the crook of his arm were children, different from the ones at the park, but just as mixed in species.

It implied he'd been adopting them for centuries. What had started with Rin all those years ago- the accidental adoption of his first child, had become a long-enduring habit. And it also gave Kagome the stupid, insidious idea that maybe he wanted hanyou children now. Maybe he wanted them with her.

And that was too dangerous a thought to linger on if she was incorrect.

[hachichimitsu2]

ABOUT ME

Hachi ✨ 20 ✨ She/Her ✨ 🇵🇭 ✨ INFJ 6w5

Hello, I’m Hachi! I'm a full-time freelance illustrator on Fiverr, and I hopefully plan to branch out in other artistic areas in my life! Expect me to dump all of my artistic interests over here : #hachichiart

I also have a children’s picture e-book that I self-published on Amazon. I made it as a requirement for my high school thesis, so while the art there is definitely a representation of my past, I still stand by the message I was trying to send. I hope to eventually branch out this series in a form of a webcomic of sorts, for people who can’t afford to purchase my e-book for financial reasons. These characters are extremely dear to me, and I can’t wait to expound on them when I have the time lmao. Here’s a tag regarding the series: #behindtheartistichand

Some note-worthy things to mention, this blog is generally 15+, but I do make sure to tag any NSFW content and general triggers out there. I often post and retweet adult animation, so I’d say tread carefully if you’re a minor. I’m also critical with the media I consume, but most of the time, I like to talk about why I like something rather than why I hate it. I just find it more fun to expound on the positives of my favorite things. I also don’t take everything seriously.

Please let me know privately if I did or say anything wrong. Sometimes I say things without meaning to, and I’m not the brightest crayon in the box, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. If you take offense with anything I posted, just send a polite DM and explain why it offended you so I can be educated regarding the subject. I’m also available for any questions, DMs and a genuine chit-chat.

MAIN INTERESTS

1. Character-Driven Storytelling

2. Adult Cartoons

3. CGDCT / Slice-of-Life Shows

4. Pastel Goth / Creepy Cute Fashion

5. Coming-of-Age Stories

6. Magical Girls

7. Psychological Horror

8. Well-Written Children’s Media

9. RPG Maker Horror Games

10. Video Essays & Film Studies

11. Speed Metal / Vaporwave / Shibuya-Kei

12. K-POP / J-POP Girl Groups (Serotonin Babey!)

13. 4LT (MBTI), Typology, Cognitive Functions

14. All Types of Artistic Endeavors (OCs, FanArt, Comics, Film, Music, Fanfiction, etc.)

TOP 5 ANIME SERIES (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER)

1. K-ON!!

2. Hunter x Hunter

3. Neon Genesis Evangelion

4. Ojamajo Doremi

5. Ouran Highschool Host Club.

TOP 5 CARTOON SERIES (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER)

1. South Park

2. Bojack Horseman

3. Moral Orel

4. Ed, Edd n Eddy

5. Infinity Train

FAVORITE MOVIES

1. Interstellar (Favorite Sci-Fi Movie of All Time)

2. Nacho Libre (Favorite Guilty Pleasure Movie)

3. Johnny Got His Gun (Scariest movie of all time due to the sheer existential dread)

4. Studio Ghibli Films (Particularly Ponyo, My Neighbor Totoro & Grave of the Fireflies)

5. Perfect Blue (Favorite Anime Movie)

6. One Cut of the Dead (It’s hard to recommend this movie without spoiling it, but it’s an absolute must that you finish it in its entirety before you proceed to make any further judgments)

7. Coraline (I know almost everyone loves Coraline at this point, but it’s genuinely good.)

8. Interview with the Vampire (Favorite Vampire movie of all time that doesn’t seem overdone or cliché. It’s also really gay)

9. Get Out (2017)

10. Us (2019)

11. Up (2009)

12. Toy Story (Movies 1 to 3)

13. Hereditary (2018)

14. The Shining (1980)

15. Audition (1999)

16. Misery (1990)

17. The Green Mile (1999)

18. Shawshank Redemption (1994)

19. Saving Private Ryan (1998)

20. Mommie Dearest (1981)

21. The Others (2001)

22. The Platform (2020)

23. The Lodge (2019)

OTHERS

1. Homestuck (It’s been a good while since I read Homestuck, so my memory of the general storyline is fuzzy. I’ll re-read it once I have the chance)

2. When They Cry (Currently up-to date with the Higurashi anime and watched the live-action movies. Finally started to tackle the sound novels. Have yet to encounter Umineko and Ciconia)

3. Age of Youth (Favorite K-drama of all time.)

4. Squid Game (Battle Royale-type thriller series that tackles capitalism and the illusion of choice and free will? Sign me the fuck up)

5. Majisuka Gakuen (Favorite J-drama of all time. Also, yes, I’m biased because of my love for AKB48.)

6. Flight of the Conchords (Favorite live-action series of all time.)

7. Adult Cartoons (The Boondocks, Camp Camp, Superjail, The Oblongs, Bob’s Burgers, The Simpsons, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Home Movies, Beavis & Butthead, Daria, Smiling Friends, Aggretsuko)

8. FilmCow (I absolutely love everything they put out. Currently up to date with VuloLives’s broadcasts)

9. The Eric Andre Show (A good friend recommended me this show, and I haven’t stopped since.)

10. Nathan for You (My humor condensed into one show)

11. CGDCT / Slice-of-Life Shows (Sweetness & Lightning, The Amazing World of Gumball, Spongebob Squarepants, Gakkou Gurashi, Lucky Star, Gakuen Utopia Manabi Straight, Koufuku Graffiti, Hidamari Sketch, Pita-Ten, A Little Snow Fairy Sugar, Di Gi Charat, Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid, Yama no Susume, Shirobako, Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, Saint Young Men, Gunslinger Girl, Kareshi Kanojo no Jijou, Osomatsu-san, Hey Arnold, The Peanuts, Arthur, Hibike! Euphonium, Nichijou, Asobi Asobase, Azumanga Daioh, Codename: Kids Next Door, Chowder)

12. Idol Anime (Love Live! School Idol Project, Aikatsu, Revue Starlight, Full Moon wo Sagashite, Pretty Rhythm, AKB600SEC // Will get into IDOLMASTER eventually)

13. Undertale (Will pick up Earthbound and Omori eventually)

14. RPGMaker Horror Games (Mad Father, Misao, The Witch’s House, Ao Oni, etc. Hoping to get into newer released games!)

15. Fictional Children / Adolescents Getting Trapped in Dangerous Scenarios (Digimon Tamers, Made in Abyss, The Promised Neverland, Alice Academy, Code Lyoko, The World Ends with You, Total Drama Island, Danganronpa)

16. Weird, Experimental or Slightly Disturbing Series (Serial Experiments Lain, Kuchuu Buranko, Invader Zim, Flapjack, Salad Fingers)

17. Shounen Anime (Yu Yu Hakusho, Mob Psycho 100, Dragon Ball Z)

18. Magical Girl Anime (Sailor Moon, Cardcaptor Sakura, Tokyo Mew Mew, Mermaid Melody, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, RWBY, Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt, My Little Pony, Princess Tutu, Powerpuff Girls, My Life As A Teenage Robot, Bee and Puppycat, Star vs. The Forces of Evil, Steven Universe // Will pick up She-Ra & The Owl House Eventually)

19. The Haunting of Hill House / Bly Manor (Don’t let the jump-scares deceive you. It’s a genuinely good character-driven horror series)

20. Sci-Fi Cartoons (Rick & Morty, Solar Opposites, Futurama, Bravest Warriors)

ROLE MODELS / BIASES / OSHIMENS / BEST GIRLS

1. Trey Parker & Matt Stone

2. Gain & Narsha (BROWN EYED GIRLS)

3. Hyuna (SOLOIST)

4. Sooyoung (SNSD)

5. Gyuri (KARA)

6. Hani (EXID)

7. Seulgi & Yeri (RED VELVET)

8. Sana (TWICE)

9. Yves & Olivia Hye (LOONA)

10. Shuhua (G-IDLE)

11. Yena (IZ*ONE)

12. Winter (AESPA)

13. SUZUKA (ATARASHII GAKKOU)

14. Shiroma Miru (NMB48)

15. Yabuki Nako (HKT48)

16. Takahashi Minami (ex-AKB48)

17. Kojima Haruna (ex-AKB48)

18. Shinoda Mariko (ex-AKB48)

19. Sayaka Akimoto (ex-AKB48)

20. Watanabe Mayu (ex-AKB48)

21. Shimazaki Haruka (ex-AKB48)

22. Matsui Jurina (ex-SKE48)

23. Sakura Miko (HOLOLIVE)

24. Natsuiro Matsuri (HOLOLIVE)

25. Oozora Subaru (HOLOLIVE)

26. Inugami Korone (HOLOLIVE)

27. Houshou Marine (HOLOLIVE)

28. Kiryu Coco (ex-HOLOLIVE)

29. Momosuzu Nene (HOLOLIVE)

30. Kureiji Ollie (HOLOLIVE)

31. Takanashi Kiara (HOLOLIVE)

32. VuloLives (INDEPENDENT VTUBER)

CONTACTS

• Instagram: @Hachichimitsu

• Twitter: @Hachichimitsu

• I take art commissions on Fiverr: https://www.fiverr.com/hachichimitsu

• I have a children’s e-book on Amazon. Make sure to download the Amazon Kindle app to be able to read it on your smart device: https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Artistic-Erika-Marie-Vargas-ebook/dp/B08789CW3V

[rosiesandlilies]

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝

Roseanne Park x Female Reader 

(7.1k words)

Sypnopsis:  roseanne makes the mistake of dating korean soloist; y/n lee. when she leaves her with a broken heart, roseanne can't help but still want her. lisa comes along and manages to capture roseanne's heart, but each time roseanne stares into lisa's eyes, she sees y/n. ignoring the weird looks she receives from her family and friends when they see the close resemblance to the soloist - roseanne wants to love lisa and a part of her does, but she hates y/n for not letting her move on; especially when her eyes are closed.

A/N: This is originally my work posted on wattpad hehe, but I decided to post it on here to share with you guys~ hopefully you all will enjoy it :) Italics will be memories while Bold will be the interview process. 

~

UN Village, Hannam The Hills, Seoul 3:00AM

Rosé's POV.

roseanne knows she shouldn't be doing this. she knows she shouldn't be watching a replay of her ex's interview for her latest single, the same single that roseanne helped her write. roseanne shouldn't be doing this, especially when lisa's sleeping a floor above her.

but she can't seem to care, not when she's done this hundreds of times.

roseanne watches the screen, she's replayed the interview two times already, each time, roseanne finds herself yearning for more. her fingers ache to touch y/n's supple skin, her lips tingle as she watches her ex-lover's lips move and smile.

roseanne's heart clenches, it squeezes and then explodes.

roseanne knew it was a bad idea to date a celebrity, a famous one at that. roseanne knew it was a bad idea to kiss the celebrity when she was warned that the girl wasn't one to 'commit.' all these bad decisions on her end, led her here; sneaking away from lisa's arms just to watch the one who broke her heart months ago. 

"so tell us y/n, what's the meaning of this new song of yours?"

"well..it's about two lovers dating each other despite what the world around them thinks. they're willing to take risks and despite knowing how the game love works, they're putting their hearts on the line."

"what a beautiful meaning! how long have you worked on this song for?"

"around 10 months? it was on a whim actually, drinking cheap beer on top of a rooftop and boom, the idea popped out."

roseanne remembers that night like it was yesterday, y/n had surprised her at her work and suggested they take a better look at seoul. during that time, roseanne had no idea what she was talking about, but as soon as she was met with the cold breeze of seoul at night, she knew exactly what y/n was trying to say.

roseanne loved cheap beer and that was a fact that y/n apparently never forgot.

roseanne watches y/n look at the view in front of them, she tilts her head and lets it rest on y/n's shoulder. "what are you thinking of?" roseanne was curious to see inside the head of her lover. "nothing," y/n responded, gulping down the remainder of her beer before giving roseanne that smile that made her knees buckle. "that's not nothing, what's up baby?" roseanne takes y/n's hand in hers, feeling y/n close to her made her feel safe.

"i've just been stressed but that's not out of the ordinary," roseanne traces the tattoo on y/n's elbow. to roseanne, the tattoos that y/n got were beautiful, it fit the musician well and gave her that badass look that she loves so much. "is there anything i can do to help you de-stress?" roseanne asked innocently but her intentions were far from it. somehow, y/n always made her feel needy.

"you know i'd love nothing more than to please you, but you're tired and so am i. i just want to stay like this," roseanne feels a kiss getting planted on her head and she smiles. she's content and happy. if this was what heaven felt like, roseanne was glad to die tomorrow.

"okay..we can stay like this," roseanne looks out at the city view of seoul once more, her heart beating for the girl with tattoos sitting next to her. "i want to write a song," y/n suddenly blurted out. "oh yeah? what about?"

roseanne is sure she saw an angel with the way y/n was looking at her. post recording studio haze, brown hair messy, lips shining from the beer she's been nursing, eyes holding so much admiration; oozing with what roseanne believed was love. y/n looked absolutely stunning.

"about us." two words, yet roseanne felt like she was floating.

roseanne continues to watch the interview of y/n. she's dressed in lisa's shirt, lisa's sweatpants but she wished deep down that she was smelling the scent of y/n and not lisa.

"what are some of the crucial parts that your fans should look out for?"

"i don't necessarily think that there's crucial parts, i think the whole song is crucial and that they should look out for the whole thing."

"you said that someone had helped you write this song, do you mind telling us who helped you write it? was it jennie?"

roseanne scoffs, how could she forget? three months after the break up, y/n was already moved on with another girl. runway model jennie kim.

it hurts roseanne's heart to know just how easily replaceable she was to y/n. exactly a year has passed since the break up and it took roseanne eight whole months to get over y/n and another two just to date someone else. someone that creepily resembled y/n.

"uhm..no, it's not jennie who helped me write the song. it was actually a..friend of mine who helped me. she's a good writer."

"your credits for the song include a lot of brilliant producers and composers but one name caught our attention. for the lyric credits, you're credited but also someone who goes by ROSÉ was credited. is she the friend you're talking about?"

"...yeah. rosé is the friend i'm talking about."

"you have some very talented friends y/n,"

"yeah, they're all very talented."

"is this friend of yours an upcoming composer or lyricist?"

"no, she's actually just a normal human being with a normal occupation."

"your fans around the world are quite the detectives, they noticed the shift of tone and lyrics in the second half of the song. would you mind explaining your train of thought during the switch from being in love to sudden heart break?"

roseanne catches herself holding her breath. she hasn't listened to the new song yet, she was too afraid. afraid that if she does, she'll go back crawling to y/n and begging her to take her back despite her being the one who broke roseanne's heart.

she and lisa have something great going on, there's something blossoming and she's eager to know what it is and how it'll play out. will it be the same or will it not? something inside roseanne tells her that lisa is different, but she can't shake off the feeling of wanting to be back in y/n's arms, hearing her whisper lies that roseanne wishes were real.

"as i stated earlier, this song is also about putting your heart on the line, so in the beginning it's all happiness, potential love that the couple feels but as the song progresses like how a relationship progresses, it turned bitter and empty and i wanted to portray how the relationship went from beginning to end in the song. so as the relationship bloomed in the beginning, the song starts happy but as the relationship took a turn and became cold, the other half of the song turned empty. the song progresses the way the relationship progressed."

"that's really deep. it seems like it's personal to you, did you take on this song from personal experience?"

roseanne already knows how this part goes, she's watched it two times already, but that doesn't mean each time hurt any less, in fact, it hurt more.

"no. not from personal experience. like i said, it was just on a whim."

roseanne breaks down, her body shakes as she reaches for the remote and shuts off the television like an idiot. now that roseanne knew that she was just a 'whim' to y/n, she feels incredibly stupid for yearning for her.

she curls onto the blanket she brought down with her, she snuggles into lisa's sweatshirt and despite the pain seeping into the cracks that she temporarily fixed, she wished she was smelling y/n instead.

that laundry detergent smell mixed with flowers and cologne. roseanne wants to smell it again.

"rosie? baby?" roseanne sits up, a dark figure blocking her view. roseanne is engulfed in the same scent on her clothes, "yeah lisa?"

roseanne watches the tall girl take a seat beside her. her big brown eyes shining despite the darkness in the room. "what are you doing down here baby? i woke up and you weren't by my side," lisa pouts and roseanne can't help the giggle that escapes her mouth. her eyes trained on lisa's lips and she suddenly remembers a different pair. "i'm sorry babe..i just couldn't fall back asleep and i didn't want to disturb you with my tossing and turning," roseanne lets the lies flow right out of her mouth. she didn't want to but she was used to it.

"can we go back to bed then? i promise i'll find a way to make you fall asleep," lisa tucks her head into roseanne's neck and starts kissing the soft skin. roseanne bites her lip and closes her eyes, she feels her heart speed up at the memory of y/n doing the exact same thing. "close your eyes rosie.." roseanne complies, and sucks in a breath when y/n kisses her pulse point just behind her left ear. lisa continues to suck on her pulse point, sucking then nipping before kissing it, this action continues and when roseanne opens up her eyes, y/n's gone.

"let's go back to bed?" lisa asks, her breath quiet as her lips hover over roseanne's. roseanne squeals when lisa lifts her up by her thighs and tugs off her own sweatshirt around the lilac's torso, leaving her naked from the top up.

roseanne lets herself enjoy being in lisa's arms. somewhere deep inside her, her heart beats, it's not quick, but it beats steadily and it beats for lisa,

not y/n.

~

roseanne regrets choosing an occupation that involved tattooing people, she should curse her love for art. why did she try so hard to become a tattoo artist in one of seoul's most exclusive parlours? one where wealthy celebrities loved visiting? why did she decide to stay at the exact place where she met y/n?

because if she just became more independent, she wouldn't have to see y/n with a certain jennie kim on her arm.

"oye! y/n! you're back, i was wondering when you'd be back!" hanbin, one of the tattooists, exclaims. y/n doesn't spare roseanne a glance, why would she? she has a new girl toy on her arm. roseanne smells the same scent, roseanne sees the same eyes she's still hopelessly in love with.

"yeah, decided to get a new ink. are there any new designs?" roseanne watches as y/n's hand tightly grasps jennie's, their bodies flush together and their smiles exclusively for each other. jisoo – roseanne's best friend and one of the few people who knew what went down between roseanne and y/n – speaks up.

"do you need me to beat her to a pulp?" jisoo asks, her hands already in fists but roseanne can't find it in her heart to see y/n hurt. "no unnie, it's okay," roseanne looks back down and restarts her sketch that got interrupted when the brunette haired girl walked in with her runway model girlfriend. "what are you drawing rosie?" roseanne looks at her drawing and sees a pair of eyes staring back at hers. "oooh, did little rosie draw lisa's eyes?" jisoo coos and roseanne wants to cry,

because it's not lisa's eyes.

"random set of eyes, i guess." roseanne shrugs and pretends to be unaffected, but she's so affected, especially when she sees y/n kissing jennie kim as they look through tattoo designs.

hanbin shoots roseanne a pitiful look, he was friends with both her and y/n. 'are you okay?' hanbin mouths to her and roseanne just gives a tight lipped smile. "i'll be in the back unnie, call me when there's another customer," jisoo nods and takes over roseanne's spot on the counter.

roseanne sits on the bean bag in the back, she puts a hand on her heart, begging it to stop beating so badly. she doesn't want to, but she can't help but reminisce. she reminisces on the time y/n held her hand like that, she reminisces on the time y/n kissed her like that, she reminisced on the time y/n brought her with her to get another tattoo, one that roseanne drew and tattooed herself on y/n's arm. the intimacy y/n showed her made roseanne believe that it was so much more. it made her believe it was real.

y/n was her lover, y/n was her liar.

"hey rosie! you have a visitor," roseanne furrows her eyebrows, it was eight in the evening, who would visit her during this time? roseanne gets up from the bean bag and doesn't think too much when she sees jisoo's smirking face.

walking up to the counter where she was moments ago, her eyes train on a tall slim figure. brown doe eyes, brown hair, lips as plump as pillows. lisa. her lisa was standing before her, holding a plastic bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. "hi baby," for some odd reason, roseanne looks to where y/n was and hoped she'd see, but she doesn't or she just doesn't care to.

"hi babe," roseanne can't help but smile when lisa smiles back at her, the crinkle to her eyes, the pearly white teeth. it looked similar to another brown haired girl but roseanne shakes that thought out of her head. "what brings you here? i thought you had a business conference in Thailand?" lisa shakes her head and moves her way towards roseanne, roseanne eagerly takes lisa's hand and intertwines them. she felt rather safe in lisa's presence. "i couldn't help not seeing you so i flew back earlier. i brought your favourites," it was at that moment that roseanne could smell the flowery-cologne she grew to love. she turns away from lisa and sees y/n at the counter with jennie. roseanne turns desperately to see if jisoo was at the counter, but she curses when she sees jisoo tending to another customer and hanbin already starting on a new tattoo for a customer.

roseanne gives lisa an apologetic smile and lisa just squeezes her hand, "go ahead, i'll be right beside you," roseanne was glad that y/n was busy on her phone or else it would've been awkward for her to see her with someone else that looked eerily like her. it was either, roseanne had a type, or y/n was roseanne's only type.

roseanne clears her throat to bring y/n's attention away from her phone. y/n looks up and roseanne gets lost in the swirls of brown coffee. "hey rosie," y/n smiles and roseanne hates her for it. "hi," roseanne responds, "you know her baby?" jennie asks, her tone light and full of curiosity, "yeah, a friend," y/n responds easily, almost like she's rehearsed that line countless times. "hey chae, y/n just picked a design today, you can just charge her ₩20,000 for it," hanbin calls out to her when he sees that y/n made it to the counter.

roseanne nods and punches in a few numbers on the cashier before the money box pops open. "₩23,000 please," roseanne can't take her eyes off of y/n. the girl was wearing a black leather jacket with jeans that shaped her legs so well and black Blundstone boots. everything about y/n just screamed 'badass' and that was exactly what roseanne loved. she loved the look of danger that y/n had to her doll like face, it was like a breath of fresh air seeing how y/n was. y/n was something out of roseanne's element and during the time she had her, roseanne loved every bit of risk she took.

"cash or card?" roseanne asks, and y/n pulls out her black credit card. "card rosie," y/n sends her a smile and roseanne just wants to slap her, get mad at her and then kiss her. she hates that y/n is acting like nothing significant happened to them, she hates how y/n is smiling at her like she didn't have someone new on her arm, someone that easily replaced her. someone easily more beautiful than roseanne replaced her in y/n's life after just three months.

y/n was the epitome of a dick, a player but roseanne can't help but be desperate for more. she loved the danger she felt when she was with y/n.

after y/n paid and sent roseanne another smile that she was sure was going to kill her, she left. she didn't spare roseanne another glance, instead she kissed the model on the forehead and led her out by the waist.

"now that that's over, want to head to the back and eat?" right, lisa is here. roseanne turns to her and nods, slipping her hand into lisa's to mask the pain of seeing y/n. "thank you lisa," roseanne says because she is thankful for the taller girl, lisa smiles and kisses roseanne on the forehead, roseanne closes her eyes and suddenly it's y/n who's kissing her head.

the flowery-cologne smell that roseanne loved engulfed her nose as y/n leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the head, "you have nothing to be afraid of rosie..i'm here, you have all of me."

"of course pretty girl, i'd do anything for you," roseanne knows that line all too well, her past partners were brilliant at saying that line but never meaning it, but something deep inside roseanne knocks and makes her believe for a split second that maybe, just maybe, lisa did mean it.

and when roseanne opens up her eyes again, y/n vanishes and it's lisa who's speaking to her, eyes filled with something y/n never had...

then something clicks in roseanne; lisa meant it.

~

roseanne thought it was a good idea too. lisa suggested going on a candle lit dinner at a restaurant that overlooked all of seoul, it was going well, she was laughing at lisa's attempts to come up with jokes, she was listening intently at lisa's stories and lisa was listening intently to hers.

but when lisa excused herself to go to the bathroom, it started again.

roseanne looked down and saw herself wearing the same dress she wore to the candle lit dinner y/n brought her to last year. roseanne had millions of dresses, dresses she's bought herself and dresses lisa has bought her but her hands unconsciously moved to the little black dress that she wore the night y/n brought her to a candle lit dinner.

the music was playing, a quiet jazz band that y/n had hired for them was playing a tune roseanne knew all too well. "you really made them play 'love' by nat king cole?" y/n shrugged, her off the shoulder dress riding up and down her arms. "you love that song, how can i not?" roseanne laughed, her hand covering her mouth. "stop covering your mouth," y/n pouted and roseanne scrunched her eyebrows together, "why?"

"i like seeing your whole face when you laugh, i think it's beautiful," roseanne was sure she died and then was resurrected because she felt her brain short circuit. "i didn't tell you earlier but you look stunning tonight, every day you do but something about you in this little black dress has you looking different," roseanne shifted in her seat under the gaze of y/n that made her feel like she was going to melt right then and there. "i think you look extra beautiful tonight y/n/n, you're always beautiful," y/n flips her hair and giggles, the sound making its way into roseanne's heart and staying there, rent free.

"i know rosie, i get compliments on my looks every day.." roseanne looked down in embarrassment, of course y/n would know how beautiful she was, literally everyone in the world reminded her every day. "-but it feels different coming from you."

roseanne's smile came back and y/n holds her hand on top of the table, "do you want to dance with me? i've been told that i have mad dance skills," roseanne glares at y/n and slaps her lightly, "oh yeah? and who exactly told you that?" roseanne was never jealous, she could care less if her partners had other partners before her, but y/n just ignited something in her, a fiery fire that held possessiveness.

y/n smiles her cheeky smile while pulling roseanne up to her feet despite her resisting. "says my mom," y/n winks at her and roseanne can't help but slap the girl.

"i hate you," roseanne mutters as y/n takes her in her arms and sways her softly to the beat of the music.

"no you don't,"

and y/n was right, roseanne didn't. she never could, because she loved her.

"rosie? baby?" roseanne didn't realize that lisa was in front of her before it was too late. a tear escaped her eyes then another. lisa is looking at her with so much confusion but roseanne really doesn't want to answer questions. roseanne is desperate for something to grab onto, something she can squeeze to make the tears stop from flowing. but she finds nothing, so she pushes her chair back and swats at lisa's hands.

"s-sorry.." she mutters before running out of the restaurant.

roseanne breathes in the cold air of seoul, her body was shaking, her tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, ruining her makeup she worked so hard on. she hated y/n, she hated her. she hated how she still controlled her heart, she hated how she still lived in her mind. roseanne hated how y/n still had power over her, a power that she can't seem to shake away no matter how long or how much she tries, it's not going away and roseanne hates it. she needs to move on, she needs to not care anymore, but each time her eyes close, y/n's stupidly beautiful face is staring back at her, taunting her because it knows that she'll never move on. she'll never move on from y/n. the stupid soloist who captured her heart and never bothered to give it back; roseanne is still desperately begging for each piece of her heart back.

"roseanne?! chaeyoung?!" roseanne hears footsteps approaching her, lisa's dress shoes clacking on the cement. roseanne continues to shake, breathing unsteady and hands shaking. "rosie..baby, what's going on?" roseanne hears lisa's voice and it's like the light at the end of a tunnel. she can't help but turn around and melt into the embrace that lisa allows her to take. she sinks deeper into lisa, closer, scratching to hear lisa's heart, she needs to hear something, feel something other than the beating of her own heart. a heart that beats for y/n but a piece that beats for lisa.

"tell me what's wrong rosie..please," roseanne knows it's a good idea to tell her current lover about her ex and the tragic story that took place, one that fucked up her heart and mind, but she can't find it in herself to tell lisa. maybe she just doesn't want to go back to the good days where she was sure y/n loved her or maybe she just doesn't want to tell lisa because if she does, she'll be able to move on and despite needing to, a conflicting part of roseanne wants the memories of y/n to stay.

so roseanne doesn't and lisa doesn't push her.

instead, she kisses roseanne's lips and roseanne temporarily gets lost in the thai girl who was holding her.

~

"don't you think lisa looks..just a little bit like y/n..?" jisoo asks slowly, careful with her words so she doesn't hurt roseanne. "what? where'd you get that from unnie?" roseanne plays coy, "you know what i'm talking about roseanne. lisa, your current lover looks like y/n lee. the looks, the personality, the fucking height, have you gone mad rosie?" caution was out the window, jisoo was tired of seeing roseanne hurt herself over and over again. they were best friends for a reason.

"they aren't alike unnie," jisoo gives roseanne the 'what the fuck' face and roseanne lowers her head, she was waiting for this day to come, ever since she told jisoo she was seeing lisa, she already knew by the look in the older girl's eyes that she saw what roseanne saw, but it just surprised her that it took her this long to bring it up.

"your own mom is scared for you rosie, lisa looks like y/n and acts like y/n, the only difference is that lisa is the owner of LM International while y/n is a singer, a popular singer at that. they're both rich too. rosie, i'm saying this because i love you, but you have to move on from y/n. it's clear that she doesn't give a fuck about you because if she did, she wouldn't have found a new girl just three months after you two broke up."

roseanne lets out an exasperated sigh, she tugs at her lilac locks and looks at jisoo with tear filled eyes. "you don't you think i've tried jisoo? i've tried for eight months jisoo! i've tried to move on for eight fucking months unnie but each time i feel like it's getting better, she slips back into my thoughts, into my memories and i hate my fucking self because some part of me wants it. i know she doesn't care, i know she never loved me but if you were in my position and spent more than a year with her, you'd understand how i feel. she treated me like she loved me, she made me feel like i was the only one for her. she made me believe what we had was so beautiful and real, and i was the stupid one who believed it all. she has a game, everyone around me warned me, but for the time we were together, she made me believe like it wasn't."

roseanne drops to her knees and buries her face into her arms because it hurts, it hurts so fucking much that roseanne doesn't know if it'll ever go away. jisoo joins her because she's hurting for roseanne. the younger girl doesn't deserve to go through this, roseanne doesn't deserve to be left like a stray dog all because she was in love, in love with a person who made her believe it was real.

"i-i love lisa..i know i do, but each time i face her, each time i look into her eyes, i see y/n."

~

it was dinner time when roseanne got the notification. lisa was happily talking about something that happened in work and roseanne was paying attention, that was until her phone chimed and a post notification popped up. 'ynlee' posted a photo. roseanne knows she shouldn't have her ex's post notifications on, but she can't find it in herself to remove it.

instead of a selfie, a picture of a scenery, or a goofy picture with jennie - it's a picture of jennie sitting naked on a stool. jennie has her breasts covered, her legs crossed, and a hand on her stomach.

roseanne's stomach churned, she wasn't stupid to know what the photo was about, but she didn't want to believe it. she couldn't believe it. they were together for a lesser time than she and y/n were. it can't be real.

but then roseanne sees the millions of likes piling up, the comments rapidly increasing and the caption.

the caption is where roseanne's heart shatters into a million little pieces, the caption is what makes all of roseanne's efforts fly out the window. eight months and counting wasted and down the drain all because of one caption. one photo.

'ynlee: hello world, we're pregnant.'

roseanne's phone drops to the ground and she's struggling to breathe, the room is suddenly spinning.

all roseanne can hear and make out is lisa's figure going to her in a panicked state, calling out her name in a scared voice, before everything turns black.

~

"rosie? rosie?" roseanne flutters her eyes open and is greeted with a concerned looking lisa and jisoo. "thank fuck roseanne, i thought you were going to die," the said woman sits up and rubs her eyes, "what happened?" lisa takes her hand into her own and strokes the soft skin, the action making roseanne smile. "you fainted when you were on your phone so i called over doctor bae and she's coming back with your test results."

roseanne sits still on the bed, her hand un-moving against lisa's. suddenly, everything came back to her like a freight truck.

her ex, the pregnancy.

oh how roseanne wished she'd just continue sleeping on forever. "how long have i been passed out for?" jisoo grabs roseanne a cup of water and places it on the bedside table. "three hours," lisa stands up and looks at her phone, "doctor joohyun is here. i'll go down to the lobby and let her up," lisa gives roseanne a sweet smile before pecking her forehead then leaning down to kiss her lips. "ew! you're going to be gone for like a minute lisa, stop trying to jump my best friend," jisoo pushes the younger girl away and makes a disgusted face when lisa pouts.

as soon as lisa's footsteps are gone, jisoo sits on the bed. "i opened your phone and it opened up to y/n's new post," roseanne avoids jisoo's eyes. she's guilty and she knows it. she shouldn't have been checking on her ex's instagram page.

"unnie-"

"no. you don't get 'unnie' me this time chaeyoung. she gives zero fucks about you, why are you still trying to get her attention," roseanne felt highly offended by what jisoo had said. she wasn't begging for y/n's attention, she just didn't know how to let it be when she still held onto the memories of the soloist. "i am not trying to get her attention," jisoo gets up roughly and takes roseanne's phone. she opens it up and shoves y/n's profile in roseanne's face. "you have her fucking post notifications on roseanne! why are you doing this to yourself? you have an amazing girl that's loving you right now, shouldn't that be enough?! why do you have to seek validation with this asshole?"

roseanne held onto the sheets beneath her. now wasn't the right time to blow up and expose herself of secrets she's kept for the past year or so.

y/n's warmth, her smile, her voice, the way she made roseanne feel. it all felt so real, so good and roseanne wasn't ready to come off that high. "she's moved on chaeyoung. i don't know how many times you have to hear this, but she's moved on. she doesn't love you, she loves jennie. she's about to start a family, it's time for you to let her go and love the girl who's doing her best to fix you and love you. lisa is right there chaeyoung, she holds you when y/n doesn't. she loved you when y/n didn't. she's there and y/n isn't. you have to realize that and remember that, because no matter how hard you try to pretend, no matter how hard you try to close your eyes and imagine y/n in front of you, you'll only be met with reality."

jisoo shoves the phone into roseanne's hand and the lilac girl stares at it, she stares at it hard and wants to cry, but she can't.

"-and that reality is...lisa isn't y/n. so you either let y/n go and let yourself move on, or let lisa go and stop wasting her time."

at that moment, lisa walked in with joohyun, "hey guys- did we interrupt something?" lisa quickly notices roseanne's eyes and how sad they look, lisa quickly realizes that jisoo isn't all smiley as she was minutes ago.

"no. i was just talking to rosie about something. i'll get going now lisa, tell me how it goes after," jisoo quickly leaves and roseanne is stuck with all the words her best friend has put into her mind.

if she were to let y/n go, how different would her relationship with lisa turn out?

love is all same, the same game, what difference would it be with lisa? roseanne doesn't know but she's sinking and she needs to find out soon.

"we ran some tests while you were sleeping rosie just in case anything has actually happened, but your results came back and you're perfectly fine. you're a little too exhausted so i suggest you rest more and also eat more, i noticed you've been getting thinner," joohyun turns to lisa and pats her on the shoulder. "make sure she eats lis," lisa smiles brightly and roseanne looks away, she can't handle that right now. not when lisa looks exactly like y/n.

~

it was a bright afternoon when roseanne walked into lisa's home office. the two have been exclusive for months now and lisa's home became roseanne's home. after weeks of trying to process it all, accept it all and try to move on from it all, roseanne was stuck. she couldn't. she wanted to but didn't want to. she needed to but it was heavy on her heart to hold onto the memories of y/n, it was just too good to let go.

"lisa?"

after working on countless reports and business proposals, lisa finally looked up from the computer and papers on her desk. "yes baby?" taking her glasses off, she finally sees roseanne walking towards her. "i need...i need to tell you something," lisa immediately pushes off her chair and motions for roseanne to sit on her lap.

roseanne holds herself from reminiscing on a certain memory with y/n when she sees lisa opening her arms wide for her to cuddle into.

"rosie? what are you doing here?" y/n has been working in the studio non-stop lately and roseanne was starting to feel lonely. "i..i needed to see you," y/n smiles that boyish smile that roseanne absolutely adored. "really? well why don't you come here and sit on my lap," y/n pats her jean covered thighs and takes off her earphones that have been on for hours.

roseanne doesn't protest and immediately sits on y/n's thighs, the muscular flesh flexed when roseanne's bare thighs sat on them. "i like your dress baby," y/n caresses roseanne's thigh lightly and plays with the flow of the sun dress. sun dresses always matched roseanne, it was like seeing the sun and moon together, it just fit.

"thank you y/n/n.." roseanne hid her face in y/n's neck. sighing in contentment at being in the arms of her lover once again, she plants small kisses onto the soft skin.

inhaling a breath full of roseanne's scent, y/n feels her heart beat. it beats slow, then fast until y/n doesn't know how to suppress it. "what's been on your mind beautiful?" roseanne looks up and sees y/n looking down at her with warm eyes, the same eyes that held so much dedication and love. roseanne was certain she was in love.

"i love you."

three words, eight letters. how could that weigh so much? y/n had no idea, all she knew was that her heart was threatening to leave her chest and hop into roseanne's hands.

instead of saying it back, y/n smiles, kisses roseanne's lips and whispers a tender:

"i know."

"roseanne? are you alright?" roseanne looks up at lisa and she notices that she hasn't moved from her spot at all. "oh..sorry baby," roseanne walks and lands herself on lisa's lap. the thai woman wraps her arms around the tattoo artist and perches her chin on roseanne's shoulder. "what do you want to talk about?"

"i have to tell you something," roseanne turns herself so that she's straddling lisa's lap. the younger girl takes roseanne's stray hair and tucks it behind her ear. "talk to me beautiful, tell me what's on your mind."

this is it. pour your heart out and tell the truth. you got this roseanne.

"i don't know if i fully love you.." maybe it wasn't the right thing to say first but roseanne had to be truthful and this was her being truthful. sure, the look on lisa's face hurt roseanne's heart but she needed to continue. she didn't want to keep lisa in the dark, she wasn't like that.

"...because some parts of my heart belongs to someone else." lisa doesn't stop stroking roseanne's cheek even when she was breaking her heart. something in her knew that roseanne was worth it, so she didn't mind getting hurt for the girl that was going to be worth it all in the end.

"who's that someone else rosie? let me help you forget them,"

"y/n lee."

"i was hoping it wasn't her..but i guess i was right," roseanne's eyes go wide and she looks at lisa with confusion in her features. "what?"

"i didn't want to admit it that time, but i saw the way you looked at her chae, in the tattoo shop. you looked at her with longing eyes as she walked away with the brown haired girl."

roseanne cups lisa's cheek, she brings their foreheads together and she weeps. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry.." lisa doesn't get mad, lisa doesn't thrash around and scream at her, instead, lisa holds her tighter than ever before; kisses her forehead and says, "i'd do anything for you, pretty girl. you can break my heart, i'll embrace it."

roseanne has heard that many times before, men and women have said it to her but none ever meant it. but something inside roseanne was knocking, itching and wanting to be let in.

somehow roseanne knew that lisa meant it.

~

5 Years Later

~

"baby?!" roseanne gets up from her knees after finding the missing pair from her socks. "yes lisa?!" roseanne chuckles when she hears lisa run up the stairs, "are we good to go? do you have everything you need?" roseanne nods and walks up to lisa, she wraps her arms around the girl and plants her lips on lisa's cheek. "i do baby, everything's good. we can go."

lisa turns to her and caresses her stomach. "perfect."

the resort was filled with equally as important people like lisa but roseanne was there to enjoy her stay and make new memories. "i'll go check us in, is that alright with you baby?" roseanne nods and lets go of lisa's hand. "i'll stay here and wait for you then," lisa kisses the lilac girl on the forehead before walking off to the receptionist.

roseanne watches lisa walk away, she sighs in content at the realization that lalisa manoban is all hers.

"roseanne?" roseanne turns to that voice, that voice that used to haunt her in her sleep and torment her everyday life.

"y/n."

y/n smiles and notices that roseanne is all by herself. "i didn't think i'd see you here," roseanne shrugs and laughs when she sees the amount of Chanel bags y/n had around her. "lisa just purchased this resort so she wanted us to experience it," roseanne plays with the golden band on her finger and y/n watches her do so.

"where's jennie?" roseanne asks. if this were five years, that name would've stung her mouth greatly. "she's on a call right now," roseanne nods and watches as the girl looks down to her stomach. "how long?"

"two months," roseanne's smile grows even bigger when she remembers the human growing inside of her. pure joy and love spreads through her body. "how are your kids?"

"they're doing great, really great."

no more words are exchanged between them, only their eyes talk.

finally having enough of the silence, y/n opens her mouth to talk but gets interrupted when a small body crashes into roseanne's legs.

"mommy! you're here!" y/n looks down at the black haired boy with big eyes looking up at roseanne. "hi baby, how'd you find me?"

"jaehyun! i told you not to run off like that," lisa runs towards roseanne and jaehyun, not noticing the other figure standing with them. "sorry mama, halmeoni let me!" lisa chuckles and ruffles her son's hair only now noticing y/n standing with them.

"oh. hey y/n," y/n smiles and nods her head politely.

"i won't keep you roseanne. it was nice seeing you rosie," roseanne smiles at her ex and tightens her hold on lisa's hand. "it was nice seeing you as well y/n," y/n turns around when she gets called by jennie. the brown haired girl was finished on the phone and was waving over for her wife.

"i gotta go, jennie's calling for me. it was lovely seeing you as well lisa."

both lisa and roseanne watch y/n walk off and end up in the arms of jennie, both women watch as jennie kisses y/n's cheek and y/n kisses her on the lips.

"you good to go rosie?" lisa breaks the silence and bends down to carry jaehyun. the toddler got tired easily. roseanne takes one last stare at y/n, her heart is beating normally, she doesn't feel a longing on her heart.

she smiles contently and turns to face lisa. her lisa. the lisa who gave her kids and continues to love her through thick and thin, through her break downs and through her successes. "yeah..i'm good to go baby," lisa smiles and roseanne's heart flutters.

it flutters out of her chest and into the sky.

they walk away, hand in hand and when roseanne closes her eyes...

...all she sees is lisa.

- fin.

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Six

Warnings:- 18+, Dark theme, Smut, Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Sex, Thigh-Riding, Swearing, Implied Breeding, Oral (female receiving).  Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting.  Feedback is welcomed.

This contains adult themes and by proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

 Word Count:- 2,893

Having survived Tony fucking your face as well as the humiliating experience of him washing you afterwards, the shocks just kept on coming when you exited the bathroom to see what he expected you to wear.  While he returned from the closet in a t-shirt and sweatpants, you quickly discovered your predicament was much worse than you ever thought.  Walking towards the double doors when Tony appeared empty handed, he quickly blocked your way and raised an eyebrow at you before speaking.  "Need something darling?"

"Yeah, how about clothes douchebag?"

"You'll get clothes when you need them and when I decide you've earned them.  Though I might be persuaded to fetch you something if you'd adjust your attitude." he smirked, as he reached out to run a hand along your cheek.  Pulling back and walking to the bed, you dropped onto it and wondered how you had come to be reduced to Tony Stark's pet.  Sighing deeply at your dejected form, Tony dropped to his knees in front of you and held you in place when you once again tried to free yourself before looking up at you.  "Y/N, surely you must find this constant struggle exhausting.  Give in to me and I promise your life will be so much easier.  You won't even have any further use for that getaway bag.  Kudos on that by the way."

At the mention of your getaway bag, your eyes widened and your hands clenched into fists.  "Ah yes, that." Tony smirked, shaking his head at your reaction.  "You didn't think I'd just leave it on the New York sidewalk, did you?  Don't worry it's safe, though I'm fascinated why you have it.  Maybe it's something we can discuss over dinner.  Shall we?" he asked, standing back up and reaching out his hand to you.  Suddenly realizing that you had spent too much time trying to physically overpower Iron-Man when you should have tried out thinking him, you decided instead to see what information you could wrangle out of him.

"Okay Tony," you said, unclenching your fists and rising from the bed.  "I'll agree to dinner and I'll try to adjust my attitude, but may I please have something to wear?  It doesn't have to be anything fancy."  As if to emphasize your sincerity, you stepped forward and walked into his waiting arms.

Shocked by this sudden change, it seemed Tony did have a weakness for you however and you soon found his arms wrapped around you while his chin came to rest atop your head.  Listening to the steady beat of his heart, you failed to notice him checking the data from your nanoparticles and whatever he read seemed to cement this sudden adjustment he'd hoped to see.  Releasing you, he quickly disappeared into the closet only to return with a grey t-shirt and blue panties.  "Will these do darling?"

"Thank you Tony.  They'll do fine." you said, taking them from him while reminding yourself to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.  Putting on the clothes before he could catch you out or change his mind, you then looked up at him before placing your hand in his and flashing him your best smile.  "So maybe while we eat you can tell me a bit about this place, I didn't really take much of it in when I was trying to escape."  Wrapping his arm around you, Tony led you out to the kitchen where he planned on introducing you to his culinary skills.

                    *************

Upon entering the kitchen area and seating you at the island unit, Tony told V.I.R.G.I.L. to release level one lockdown protocols which you discovered opened all the cabinet doors and drawers.  Working away on the food as he talked and you listened, you discovered that the house was not only situated at a secluded location but the windows in the ceiling were a result of most of the property being underground.  Tony also disclosed that the only two doors off the kitchen led to the garage and his lab.  The garage you also learned was the only exit out of the house.

"Mr. . . . sorry Tony, does that not seem like a rather monumental fire hazard?" you inquired, genuinely curious now.

Looking over at you while handing you a glass of wine, he couldn't help the smirk that seemed to light up his face.  "Y/N really, think about who you're talking to?  If a fire did break out here, the state of the art fire suppression system I designed will kick in and have it out in seconds.  Besides, I am Iron-Man.  Don't worry darling, you're perfectly safe here."

Choking on his last words, the wine you were drinking hit you wrong and it took him tapping your back to get your breathing back under control.  "Thank you, don't quite know what happened there."

"You're welcome.  I hope you're okay with chicken and mushroom pasta by the way?" he said, smiling over at you as if he had forgotten that it was in an Italian restaurant you had first refused his company.  Now that you had time to really concentrate on the wine, you realized with sickening clarity that it was the same one you drank that night.  Placing the glass back on the counter, a shudder ripped through you as you realized there seemed to be nothing he didn't know about you.

Picking up the glass and leading you to the table, he helped you sit before returning with the food and the bottle of wine.  Filling your glass while taking a seat on your right side, he placed his hand on yours before speaking.  "I'd enjoy the wine if I were you darling.  It's the last you'll be drinking going forward.  Now let's eat before the food gets cold.”

Thinking through the implications of his statement, you did your best to enjoy the meal while you tried to figure out how to get safely out of his clutches before he could knock you up, provided he hadn't done so already.  Deciding to play to his vanity, you complimented him on the meal before asking some of the questions you hoped to get an answer to.  "So Tony, you mentioned my getaway bag earlier, may I ask where it is?"

"It's in my safe, not that you'll be needing it.  Why does someone your age even have it anyway?"

"Being prepared for anything usually means I'm not surprised by something.  Though I guess you're the exception." you laughed, and Tony surprised you yet again when he took your hand and kissed it tenderly.  What shocked you most however was the slight tingle that ran through your body at this most romantic gesture.  When he released your hand again it seemed it was Tony's turn to ask you a question.

"So would you mind telling me what your plan was?  I'm fascinated to know."

"It's not all that exciting to be honest.  I had planned to stay at the Waldorf for a week in the hopes your infatuation would dissipate.  If it didn't, then my getaway bag, bank account and friends would hopefully get me far enough away from you.  Guess that didn't work out too well." you answered while eating more of your meal.

"Like I said, you're wasted where you are and by the way this is not infatuation.  I find you amazingly self-reliant for someone your age and I'd like to build a life with you.  As I told Happy, you're ingenious."  He smiled as if you should be flattered by the compliment, but all you saw was everything he had put you through.  Having finished your food, you drank the rest of your wine while you contemplated how best to continue the conversation.

"Tony let's assume for a moment that I'm okay with us, in plain english, what's your endgame?  Will I see the outside world again?  Will I ever see my friends again?" you asked, noting the irritated look on his face.

Sighing deeply, he took the wine from your hand and gazed into your eyes before speaking.  "My endgame as you put it darling, is to get you back to my place where you will be treated like a queen while our little ones grow up safe and loved.  If you'll agree, I'd also like to marry you and who knows, hopefully your friends can remain a part of your life."

Hating every word he uttered, but needing to know all the same, your hands left the table and inadvertently rested over your stomach as you stared off into space, thinking.  It was only when Tony cleaned up dinner and helped you stand to walk you to the living room, that you regained your focus.  "What about my job, my life?  Tony, what about the nanoparticles in my system?" you asked quickly, as he sat both of you on the couch and tucked you into his body as if you fit there all along.

"The nanoparticles stay, I'm afraid.  Like I said, they have good features and bad.  Hopefully with time and trust the unsavory features can be disabled.  As for your job and life . . . I won't interfere with your job if you wish to remain where you are.  Your life however . . .  I would hope you'd be willing to make room in it for our new family."  Trying not to tick him off, it was your turn to reign in your temper however once Tony uttered his next words.  "Hey perhaps you could tell me about some of the hobbies my money has allowed you to pursue."

"What, you mean there are things the nanoparticles and your Annoying Inquisitor failed to find out about me?"

"Y/N, you know some of the things I've done to get you, as well as what I'm willing to do to keep you.  So please make life easier on yourself, park the attitude and tell me some of the things I don't know."

Thinking through what he told you, you sadly realized that at the present time Tony did indeed have the upper hand in all aspects of your survival.  Swallowing any retort that would more than likely result in some form of retaliation, you gently freed yourself from his grasp and pulled your feet up onto the couch before answering.  "Shooting, Kayaking, Tennis, Hiking, Rock climbing, Restoring Classic Cars and Riding." you quickly rattled off.  Seeing the grin that appeared on his face and relating it to the last activity you named, you cringed as you reached forward and slapped him on the upper arm.  “Ugh, it's Horseback riding you ass.  God is everything with you sexual in nature."

You got your answer however, when he grabbed hold of your arm, pulled you towards him and pressed his lips securely against yours.  Finally letting you up for air, he positioned you on his lap with your back resting against his chest and his arms around your waist.  "Only where you're concerned darling and by the way I'd never have taken you for someone who was into classic cars."

"I'll have you know your money, as you like to remind me, has enabled me to purchase and restore quite a few classics." you replied, while trying to maneuver away from his roaming hands and lips.

"So how come you didn't just drive off in one of them when you left me three days ago?  Would have given you quite the head start."

Feeling your frustration growing you couldn't keep the venom out of your reply.  "Ugh I already told you, this infatuation of yours was supposed to blow over which meant I wouldn't have to leave my life, my friends or my car collection behind."  With that you struggled once more against his hold but unfortunately it held fast.

Moving you slightly so you now sat solely on his left thigh, Tony pressed down on your hips while simultaneously sliding you back and forth.  The friction this created against your clit didn't take long for the now usual sensation to begin building in your core.  Added to this the kisses he placed on your neck and down to your shoulders, along with the degrading things he whispered in your ear and the next thing you knew you were reaching for the edge as every muscle in your lower regions pulled tighter and tighter.

"Oh fuck, Tony, stop please.  I'm gonna . . . ahh."  Now nibbling on your pulse point, all words left you as your release hit you and you felt the moisture leak from you and stain both your panties and Tony's sweatpants.

"Well look at what my dirty girl did.  Now it's my turn."  And before you could protest or do anything to stop him, Tony threw you down on the couch, ripped your panties clean off and buried his head between your spread legs.  Lapping and sucking your now slick folds while shoving two fingers inside you, you couldn't stop the sinful moans that left your lips or the way your hands found themselves entangled in his hair.  Smirking against your folds as you gave yourself over to the pleasure building again from his skillful ministrations, it didn't take him long to get you hovering over the edge once more.

And hover you did . . . just as you were about to come for a second time, Tony pulled back and smiled a most devious smile when you looked up at him and whined.  "Tony please make me come.  Please, please, please." you begged, tears all but falling from your eyes.

Leaning forward to kiss the lips you had previously been chewing on, Tony quickly removed his pants and lining himself up with your entrance, bottomed out as his mouth swallowed the gasp that escaped your lips.  "Oh darling, you're absolutely perfect as always.  Just imagine how beautiful you will look spread out before me all round with our child."

If you had any retort planned, it was completely lost when Tony shifted your legs and hit that glorious spot inside you that had you seeing stars.  Thrusting harder and faster, his hand moved to circle your clit and you felt yourself reaching for the edge once again.  This time however you felt the familiar power building inside you and the possible outcome that awaited you.  "Tony please . . . slow down . . . ahh, it's too much.  I'm gonna . . . Oh god."

"It's okay Y/N, trust me.  You're safe darling, just let go.  I'll be here with you the whole time."  With that, he continued his relentless pounding of your pussy and all rational thought left you as you finally listened to both him and your body and allowed all your cares to melt away.  Crying out as Tony pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in while pinching your clit, you once again weren't conscious when your walls clamped his shaft like a vice as rope after rope of warm cum shot out and painted your walls.

                   *************

True to his word, you woke shortly after nestled on the couch with Tony gently stroking your hair.  "Hey gorgeous girl, how are you feeling?"

"Okay I guess, even though I've now passed out twice in the past few hours.  Perhaps you should consider taking me to a doctor." you suggested, even though you knew nothing would come of it.

"Darling I don't mean to brag, but you and I both know passing out from a powerful orgasm is not something that requires a doctor.  Now would you rather a bath or a shower before bed baby?"

"I think a bath might be nice.  Wait, am I to assume there's a bath here big enough to enable you to join me?"

"Of course silly girl." he grinned at you as he jumped off the couch and held out his hand to help you up.  "I'm surprised and offended you even have to ask."

Taking his hand, you had to grab onto his shoulder instead to steady yourself as you still felt a bit shaky on your feet.  Sensing this, Tony quickly and easily picked you up and next thing you know he placed you in the bathroom attached to what was originally your bedroom.  "Please tell me you'll behave yourself if I get in there with you." you questioned as Tony filled the bath while you made use of the toilet, not caring that he was right there with you.

"Of course I will darling, scout's honor." he smiled, holding up his hand in a salute.

"Seriously, do you honestly expect me to believe you were ever a boy scout?" you scoff as he lowered himself into the bath before reaching out to help you in.

"No, I don't really expect you to believe anything I tell you.  But that doesn't mean I won't spend the rest of our lives together trying to convince you."  With that he nudged you forward until your feet hit the other end of the bath and then leaned you back to rest against his chest before wrapping his arms around you.  Sinking into both his embrace and the warm water, you slowly relaxed for what felt like the first time since this whole ordeal had started.  Eventually washing each other and retiring to bed, you closed your eyes and let your cares slip away as sleep easily claimed you.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie @hoseokchild @gotnofucks @ironlady1993 @floatingdaisy7 @taintedgenre @buttercandy16 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay , sorry if I missed anyone.

[gloryofluv]

Outfoxed Chapter 7

A little RAD anyone? I think so. Might be fun considering Rena is now ACTUALLY a demon!

Previous Chapter

Rena’s tail was swiping back and forth as her ears flattened. Asmodeus was putting makeup on her face, which was a huge irritation. Considering that they needed to be out the door for RAD in ten minutes.

“See, darling, this is part of the problem. You wear eyeshadow for green eyes, but you clearly have a blue hue as well. Shading, shading, shading!” Asmo sighed as he brushed more color onto her lids.

“Asmo, we have to go. Are you almost done?” Rena questioned.

“Nearly,” Asmo nodded. “If you hold still, I’ll get done faster.” She resigned to allow him to do his work. The artistic demon painted on eyeliner and lipgloss before finishing with a nod. “Excellent! You almost look as good as me.”

Rena beamed and breathed. “Thank you. Now, we better get going, or Lucifer might get frustrated.”

“There is no might,” Lucifer hummed as he walked by her open door. “I expect your first day as a demon to be perfect, Rena. That includes impeccable attendance. Get going.”

She definitely didn’t need to be told twice. Rena swiped up her bag and climbed to her feet. She paced by his looming form, and he scowled before stopping her at the doorway. The hint of curiosity breached his energy.

“Asmo thought it might make me look less cute and a bit more formidable as a demon,” Rena sighed.

Lucifer was evaluating her makeup. His eyes gathered the information and his face remained stoic otherwise. “It’s made your face quite nymphish.”

“Um, thank you,” she murmured, and her ears flickered.

Asmo waved at Lucifer. “Okay, bye! We have places to be!” he laughed and dragged Rena toward the entrance with him.

Rena glanced back once to see Lucifer following at a slower pace. Well, off to RAD. She fell into step with Asmodeus and paid attention to his rambling about her social platform as a demon. She didn’t really care to be popular, but odds were that he cared if she was. As confusing as that was, he’s now made it his mission to propel her.

They parted at her classroom door, and she breathed, watching Asmo walk-off, flirting with some tall demon on the Fangol team. Well, he was easily amused, that was for certain. Hopefully, skipping class was worth it for him.

“Vixen.”

Rena glanced back and smiled. “I would have thought you’d be sitting in class by now.”

Solomon walked over and shrugged. “I went to chat with Barbatos before class. How are you feeling today,” he voiced while they entered the room for Speechcraft.

“I’m doing alright. Asmo wanted to do my makeup today, so I wasn’t here earlier.”

Solomon sat down and bobbed his head. “I can see that. It looks excellent. I would have never noticed that you actually have more blue in your eyes than green without his application.”

She smirked and rolled her shoulders. “Well, now I know.”

The pair walked into the classroom, and the demons that were not Satan all looked at her. She was pelted with curiosity. As nervous as she was on the first day of RAD as a human, she was even more anxious as a demon.

Solomon sat her down at the table with Satan, and the conversation was light and airy until the instructor began their lesson. It was definitely not a walk in the park as far as new material. This wasn’t about seducing a human into corruption. This was the next tier. The material in this class was about tempting humans with what they desire most.

As much as that seemed like a demon’s MO, Rena actually never realized that there was a science to that. Demons had to hone their frequencies to the subject of their corruption and find the one thing that would bend them. The intricacies were altogether a severe skill. Advanced. Well, that explains why Mammon and Levi weren’t in this bracket this year.

“Partner up,” the instructor declared after the summary of the lesson.

“We’re the only table with three,” Solomon started.

Asmo slid next to Solomon and smirked. “No, there’s four here, Solomon. How about you and Satan work together, and Rena and I can!”

Satan scowled over at Asmo. “When did you sneak into class?”

“Oh, five minutes in, but I was sitting in the back working on a post in my Devilgram,” Asmo giggled and waved his phone.

“How do humans do this, Sol?” Rena asked.

“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” Solomon hummed and set down a dark-looking mirror. “Divination.”

Rena smirked and caressed the flat polished obsidian. “Clever.”

“I had one for you, but apparently, you don’t need it yet,” Solomon teased.

“Rena, we should see if you can do this skill with each of us. It will give you the practice that we already have,” Satan declared.

“Oh, Satan! What a great idea!” Asmo gasped.

Rena’s ears sank on either side of her hair. “Satan, we have fifteen minutes left in class. I don’t think I can do that.”

“Just try it. Start with Asmodeus. He’s probably easiest for this lesson,” Satan nodded.

Rena stood up as Asmo skipped over while clapping his hands. “Alright, my darling sweet Rena! Tell me what I desire most.”

She licked her lips and took his hand, gazing into his eyes. They shimmered in the light, and at first, all she felt was the giddy excitement of him being first. However, as she breathed and focused, there was something there. It had the texture of cinnamon and the burning wick of a candle. Soft petals caressing skin, but not from lust. It was heart-swelling feelings of closeness and silk on the skin—sleep, comfort, and laughter.

“You want,” she scowled and swallowed. “A romantic night without the world, Asmo? No sex. I honestly thought there was going to be sex.”

He blinked as his cheeks darkened. “Darling!” he gasped and took his hand from her. “You’re not supposed to share those secrets,” he hissed with a stifled smile.

“Wait, that was way too fast,” Satan puffed. “How did you do that? That’s advanced seduction speechcraft.”

Rena shrugged her shoulders as she glanced back at him. “I’m not sure. I could describe what I visualized if you need more detail.”

“I do,” Satan scowled.

Rena relayed the experience and described it with the clarity it was delivered. Asmo covered his mouth as his pink cheeks were now closer to mulberry. “That’s beautiful,” he whispered when she finished.

“Interesting. I would like to see if you can read me,” Solomon said and stood up.

Was this something akin to her talent? It sounded fun and a bit cunning, actually. Reading people and what they want could make her adaptable. Hm.

Rena smiled as she took Solomon’s hand and stared into his eyes. Nothing. She was only receiving a wall. The more she searched for clarity in his eyes, the more she felt the heat build in her face. “What are you wearing to stop me?” she asked.

Solomon’s smile grew playful. “Rena, you know for a fact it’s an item?”

“I see a wall. A large silver wall,” she scowled.

He took his hand from hers and dug under his uniform collar. Solomon produced a silver amulet with runes embossed on it. “A warding trinket. How interesting that you knew there was a barrier keeping you from reading my desires. Maybe a natural affinity for reading others?”

“This is so exciting! Rena, you have a skill like Lucifer,” Asmo gasped.

“Lucifer?” Rena arched an eyebrow.

Asmo rocked his head and waved his hand. “Lucifer can see what someone is prideful about or disgusted within themselves. Why do you think he wears gloves all the time?”

“True,” Satan hummed and held out his hand. “I want to see if you can read me.” The warning bell for the next class went off, and other students were packing up and leaving. Rena frowned at the hand and went to grip Satan’s. However, he pulled it away with a small smirk. “Later, we have our next class.”

“Such a tease,” Rena rolled her eyes and smiled.

Solomon raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at Rena placing her items in her bag. “I find this an interesting evolution. You spoke about empathy plenty, and now you’re able to read someone’s desires like common literature. What else could that tap into?”

“How about we don’t get too curious yet, Sol. I’m not your new science project,” Rena smiled while patting his shoulder.

“Rena, let’s go, we’re going to be late for Art. It’s the beginning of painting with elemental magic,” Satan hummed as he shouldered his messenger bag.

Asmo kissed her cheek and took a selfie with Rena before bidding them goodbye. Solomon fell into pace with Satan and Rena when they all left the classroom.

“So, how did you sleep last night?” Solomon asked.

She rocked her head and waved her hand. “Not bad. I had a dream about a forest, and I was chasing a rabbit. Not sure the significance of either.”

“Did you catch the rabbit, and what color was it?” Solomon asked.

“It was white, and I did catch it. When I sprang on it, I had paws,” Rena laughed and shook her head. “Vulpine demon on the hunt.”

“That’s actually quite positive. White rabbits are of loyalty, love, and prosperity. Did you kill it?”

She shook her head. “I woke up before I did.”

“Excellent. A chase is victorious. A killing is a problem. I do enjoy dream symbolism,” Solomon smiled.

Rena nudged him with a smirk, and her tail flicked at his ear. “You’re just enjoying my little evolution, aren’t you?”

Satan cleared his throat. “Rena, would you like to do some studying after RAD today?”

“Oh, yes, of course, Satan. I have so much I need to catch up on now. Barbatos sent me over some basic lessons for demons. He told me if I could finish them in a couple of weeks that I could do my first evaluation as a demon,” Rena voiced as she waved her right hand.

Solomon snagged it and scowled. “That’s the royal seal. I didn’t see the detailing earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, Lord Diavolo and I agreed a pledge of fealty might be a bit of overkill due to the circumstances. We made binding promises to each other instead,” Rena explained.

Solomon dropped her hand and took a step away from her. “I see.”

“Wait, what’s wrong?” She asked.

“It means Solomon can’t ask you for a pact without Lord Diavolo’s permission,” Satan snickered.

Solomon pressed a fist to his chin as they paused outside the classroom. “Rena, what was in this promise?”

“Oh, well, it’s like a temporary pledge, I suppose. He told me I was under his protection so long as I’m a demon,” Rena said as she waved her hand. “I thought it was an excellent idea considering the nature of my incident.”

Solomon’s brow sank further toward his eyes. “Protection. He used the word protection?”

“Wait, why does that matter?” Rena asked.

Solomon shook his head and cleared his throat. “It doesn’t. Let’s enjoy our class,” he said as his expression eased and he opened the door.

Odd. The trio entered the room and sat down. Beelzebub waved his hand, and the conversation took a lighter turn. However, that reaction did bother Rena quite a bit. Why was Solomon clearly upset about the seal? She glanced down at it several times through the lesson to map out different reasons. None of them made much sense.

That was a lie. One of them did. Solomon could be upset at the idea that he couldn’t investigate and experiment as freely if she weren’t under his protection. Not that the sorcerer would ever do anything remotely wrong, but now he would be watched. Maybe Solomon wasn’t as much of a joiner with others as he was with her? An interesting thought to ponder about the sorcerer who has been teaching her the secrets of the arcane.