#how does that woman have everyone in sports wrapped around her finger what devil did she make a deal with

[raininyourblackeyes]

I just woke up. Are they actually letting Kamila Valieva skate??? Just because she is a "protected person"???

Then why did they ban ROC for doping at all? Why test anyone for doping?

CAS and IOC just allowed for continuation of a tradition of abuse, both physicial and psychological of children whose careers end at 18 in pain that will possibly not stop creating problems for them through their entire lives.

They, together with ISU, should be ashamed. They are killing, putting final nails in the coffin at this point, one of the oldest Winter Olympic Sports with rich and long tradition (older than the ISU even). But most importantly, they are enabling the abuse of children and telling all other athletes out there that it is okay to take performance enhancers, as long as you are a child and an adult is making this decision for you.

Kamila Valieva is a child, yes. But letting her skate this week will ultimately mean a career death possibly worse than Adelina Sotnikova's who received death threats, and her only crime was skating her best on a rigged competition. Kamila's crime will be skating her best when she tested positive for a performance enhancing drug that should only be given to people aged 18+.

Eteri Tutberidze must be banned from the sport. That is the only way to end this vicious cycle of suffering. However, today's decision has me worried that there is no one willing to stop her, even if the price to pay are ruined lives of children just for the sake of more money and more golds.

[peakascum]

The Room Where It Happens

Request for: @slither-in-a-half I know this is a bit different than what you asked for and it’s way different than what I originally intended to write, but I really do hope you enjoy it!

Two politicians stand on opposites sides of each other for a Charity event, something to do with children or painting the Parliment’s ceiling. Thomas Shelby sips a chilled Merlot as he eyes the posh MP’s that mingle alongside him, noses turned up and head in their ass. In front of him lurks another MP, a much snobbier one at that, whom galavants his wife like a bloody medal. You don’t mind, at least not publicly. Always playing the trophy wife, always sporting a smile, always curtsying a ‘What a lovely evening’. Thomas knows he’s playing a dangerous game as he eyes your cherry red lips gulp down yet another glass. It’s the urgency in which you consume the devil’s drink that always catches his attention. He knows how soft your hands are and how delicately you maneuver them from the countless times you've touched his.

The condition of being stuck in a loveless marriage would drive anyone mad. Add a little bit of brute force and a make-believe smile, and that would be enough to send cries for help. Which you had done so on several occasions, but no one took them seriously; instead, they deemed you as a bored housewife. You had heard the tales, everyone had, of the countless wives of esteemed families that suddenly had public outbursts which were deemed as hysterical. You were familiar with the stories, about Mrs. Dormer’s dull complexion and Mrs. Hastings’ scarred wrists, all whispers of misfortune were now your reality. 

Tommy and your husband had never seen eye to eye on any particular topic. Both were stubborn men who belonged to different political parties and lived completely different realities. Your husband was born with a silver spoon in hand while Tommy built his kingdom out of wooden sticks and cut stones. But those eyes, those adoring blue eyes wrapped you in from the first time they met. It started with stolen glances and escalated to a passionate night shared in his office as you delivered some papers on behalf of your husband. He decided you had the loveliest broken smile he had ever seen. The most delicate laugh and the wittiest humor, one he would not mind hearing time and time again. 

‘Did you listen to a word I said Mr. Shelby?’

‘I- I don’t believe I did, no.’ He remarked, clearing his throat.

She smirked. ‘I-I-I’ She mocked. ‘Stuttering is for children and tight-lipped fools. Are you a fool Mr. Shelby?’

You exhaled words of pleasure in each others ears. Bodies molding together like clay and fingertips eager to explore. Exhaustion came after and a simple kiss was placed upon his lover’s lips as if it were already a routine. Both clinging to the affection you so desperately craved.

Months of passion were spent in secrecy up until the moment your husband caught on, almost crushing your wind pipe and blinding you out of rage. Not because he loved you, oh no, but because he craved power and dominance. A poor little rich boy does not share. So when the venue and seating were arranged for the gala he made sure to have Thomas Shelby in front of him, to taunt you, to dangle his prized possession in his  opponent's face. To give you a glimpse into the life you wanted, yet gripping your thigh beneath the table as if saying ‘Don’t you dare’. 

The torrid affair you shared with the Shelby man had ended a few weeks prior with a handwritten letter, but your absence from such events told him what he couldn't decipher from your words. 

‘Dear sir, 

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. I hope you understand my reason for ending this relationship. I love my husband, you see, and the idea of breaking this marriage is enough to make my heart weep. My whorish ways have brought misery to my house, but be not alarmed by this, for my husband is very generous and will gladly offer you a sum of money for your silence. You must excuse my behavior these past few months and, therefore, understand the severity of the situation. 

Best wishes, Y/N.’

The letter sat in his pocket weighing heavily against the floor. He rejected the money, of course, but it didn't save his heart from breaking any further, and his mind from wandering to the atrocious acts your husband performed out of hatred. Thomas was a dangerous man, but your husband was worse, and his wrath would treble his political career, crease his business, and ruin his family. Polly had warned him many times about the dangers of thinking with his cock, but it was more than that. Arthur had payed for other whores to keep him company, but he could bed no other. It was the way you said his name in wonder whenever you saw each other after weeks apart. You were a wondrous creature shrouded in a mysterious, yet inviting, aura. One who sported a smile, such a sweet smile on those cherry red lips that made his own twitch and heart clench. 

It was the way you grimaced as your husband squeezed your arm that made his feet have a life of their own. He marched confidently up to you both, eyeing him with brutality, but switching to you with softness. Your eyes widened pleadingly at him to stop, to stop at once, to turn around and save himself from trouble. 

“Ah Mr. Shelby, what a pleasant surprise.” Your husband said, sporting a tight smile and a poised stance. Tommy nodded, “Mr. Crooke, Mr.s- Crooke”. Your eyes bore daggers into his. Your husband shook his hand firmly in a weak attempt to exhume further dominance, when, in truth, all of them knew who really owned the room. 

“Excuse my wife’s appearance, say. She’s not been her best these past few weeks, isn't that right darling?” Your husband said as he ran the back of his index finger gently over your cheek. Your once shimmering eyes appeared lifeless under the yellowish glare of the chandelier- a shell of the woman you had been, the woman you should be. “Wonder why that is sir,” Tommy bit back. Your husband chuckled, “You’re a bold man Mr. Shelby.” The men stared down at each other down as men tend to do.

“So they say.” Tommy replied.

“You've caught my attention, Mr. Shelby,” your husband started, “and in a most ill-manner may I add.” Tommy quirked a brow and urged him to go on. “Mr. Shelby I do not think it is in anyone’s best interest for me to comment on my wife’s extra curricular, is it not?” Your posture remained stoic, eyes trained to the expensive champagne in your hand praying that somehow you could shrink ten sizes and bathe in it. Stretch your arms and do laps on the clear glasses that British aristocracy drank in sighs and content giggles. You had silly daydreams like these. Some not so silly. Ones drenched in crimson liquid as if you were a butcher at the end of your shift, only to look around and see your husband’s body displayed in all his fat glory. 

You sucked in a breath and uttered, “Gentlemen you must excuse me, I need to use the powder room.” Your husbands hand stopped gripped your forearm as you made your exit, “Don’t be long dear.” He uttered menacingly. 

You leaned up against the green wall that lead to a long corridor, away from prying eyes and the clink of heels against expensive tiles. Lungs heavy, hands trembling, and mouth parting like a fish out of water. You felt foolish. You had lived years below your husband’s scrutinizing thumb, surrounded by words of empty headed strangers on how lucky you were to have married such a bright and clever man. A man who rejoiced at the sight of her trembling figure and got off on her agonizing screams that left her feeling like a vegetable for days. A man who curiously spit false facts with such emotion that caught the ears of the rich and the weak. And then she met him. And then life ripped that away. 

As if on cue, Tommy hurried towards her with that ever prominent scowl on his face, “Y/N, love-“

“No! No Tommy we cannot speak!” She pushed his hands away, further encouraging the scowl to become two tattooed lines in between his eyes. “Listen to me Y/N, stop fighting and fuckin’ listen ey?” He grabbed her trembling hands in his careful not to hurt her further. “What? What could possibly be so important to tell me right now that would make tonight’s punishment worth it?” You growled in contempt. 

“In about three minutes I will go into a room with your husband to bargain your freedom.” He grabbed your plum face in his hands, urging for your eyes to meet, for a reassurance, a peace of mind, a promise.

“He won’t give me up Tommy, he won’t.” You noticed his eyes waiver in a way that only a heartbreak could cause. They were filled with urgency, a sense of dread, because how could you not trust him? How could you not see that everything he is and everything he does is for you? 

“The greatest grief in my life will come if I leave you in the hands of that monster. All of this,” he said gesturing around him, “all of this is collateral, Y/N. I’ve accepted that risk of dying, I do it every day for stupid shit Y/N, for really stupid shit.”

“Oh God! Oh God!” You moaned, crying in despair. You shook your head as tears coated your frosted cheeks, unable to comprehend the thought of freedom and actual love. 

The orchestra started playing in the dining hall soliciting the guest’s attention to a melodic grace. The violins struck their cords in an unruly manner, insisting on being heard. Your husband whistled as he came toward you both making you separate. “Mr. Shelby, I believe we have pressing matters to attend?” He said. In his shifty brown eyes lied an expression you could not read. And so both men entered the room with the big fireplace and oak chairs. The mahogany door closed with a thud that coincidentally resonated beautifully with the melodic sound of the band. 

The doors opened just as quickly as they had closed. Or had the hours flown by? You couldn't tell. In the torturous time you had been left outside, a small crowd had gathered around you. Whispers of ‘mistress’ and ‘foes’ and ‘ruins’ had been said, but most just repeated the few phrases that could be heard from inside the room. The two politicians stepped out having reached a mutual decision. One having lost a sum of money that would leave him in financial ruin for the rest of his life. The other with promised assets that would change his family’s fortune and the value of his name. 

Your eyes met the Shelby’s blue ones, a smirk adorning his features as he stared at you. His woman. “Now, what’s this I hear about you doubting me love?” He murmured. You shook your head in disbelief, a small smile itching to be seen as your eyes darted over to your husband. “I don’t- I don’t get it Tommy, what did you do?” You asked grasping the lapels of his evening suit. Your hands tugging and caressing them ceremoniously as anxious tears pooled in your eyes. 

“Don’t concern yourself with business Y/N-“

“No! No, I will most certainly concern myself with business. Business that involves me. Business that has a means to freedom and life- a life Tommy, a-a life without fear.” She insisted, but he only smiled and kissed her lips gently, ignoring the ever growing fight that surrounded them. Your husband had drawn a gun in contempt, only to be tackled by Tommy’s men. He never was quick on his feet. 

*

It happened months later in the middle of an uncertain spring, when his face popped in your mind again. You had seen him in the shadows and in every drunk that passed you in the street. You saw him beneath the knife of the butcher, when rain fell from parted skies, and in the ominous sound violins made when played. But worst of all, you had seen his face in Arthur Shelby’s as he screamed at you yet again for getting in his way. Most of the family had accepted your relationship, as they pitied your cold sweats and silent demeanor, but mostly because the deal didn't ruin the Shelby empire. 

Once home, you stared aimlessly at the crackling fire, allowing the warmth to envelope you like a protective hug. Tommy made his way towards your figure and sat cross legged, whisky in hand. “Where’s your mind today, bird?” He whispered, tenderly stroking your pinned hair. 

“Thinking about the night my husband sold me like cattle.” Tommy side eyed you, clearly tense about the topic. “Did he?” you pressed again, “no one’s ever told me anything about it. I know we technically won, b- but Arthur’s been up my arse again and I can’t, not for the life of me, continue to be a prisoner of utterly worthless and untrue remarks!” She grew agitated withe very word, but all were true, and he knew this. His hand continued rubbing circles in the back of her neck and chuckle, a small one, escaped his lips. 

“Do you take me for a fool Tommy? Because I assure-“

“I don’t.” He cut her off. “You're no fool. I think you've proven that a few times now, right? You weren't a fool when you were with him and you're not one now.” 

“Then what, Tommy? What could have possibly been said that guaranteed my freedom and his ruin?”

He sighed sensing her desperation, but he couldn't possibly tell her. In fact, he hadn't even told his family. Arthur’s distaste for Y/N was shrouded in mystery itself, more so a rendition of the protective older brother, a one man play. Any other man would have disclosed the information to a close confidant, but not Tommy- never Tommy. It is why under the fire’s glow and the tenderness of your flesh beneath his fingers, he promised himself yet again to never speak a word of it to anyone, not even you. It would remain an active memory buried in the inner, darkest corners of his mind. Each time he visited Mr. Crooke, in a most disclosed location, he would remember to discard the clothing used and have an alibi prepared. A pesky little thing he was, a washed up creature that would receive every punishment he gave;  but no one should know, least of all her, because just like that night, no one else was in the room where it happened. No one knew the words that were spoken or how the deal was made. 

Only assumptions were made. And with one last stroke of the cheek and a light kiss to the lips, Thomas Shelby and Y/N stood up in silent agreement and retired to their newly marital bed. 

[blahkugo]

Congrats for the 1k!! Wdyt ab hawks in an underground scenario?

thanks anon baby!! i love writing for hawks in general and this au was soooooo much fun to explore!! ♡ i honestly went a little crazy with it & added too much rumi in there lmao

                                  -ˋˏ ༻ 光 ༺ ˎˊ-

「TAKAMI KEIGO / HAWKS」

— underground! au (feat. rumi)

— warnings: 18+, smut, drugs / alcohol mention, kind of scumbag hawks

⤏ keigo’s very devious, in the sense that he can be both the star of everyone’s show and a sneaky bastard. he’s a double agent in the truest definition of the word, and it’s no different in an underground au

⤏ ‘heaven’ is the place to get into; no, no, not god’s pearly white gates, but rather the giant underground nightclub teeming with bar hoppers and thrill seekers on a saturday night.

⤏ the highly illegal establishment is run by none other than keigo takami himself, the eccentric club owner that people only know by name

⤏ no one’s ever actually seen keigo at his own club, nobody even knows what he looks like

⤏ so, rumors fly amongst the regular patrons; some say he’s a cartel boss, others a crooked cop

⤏ a choice few believe that he’s the devil himself. and in his jealousy of god’s perfect eden, he crafted his own slice of heaven, where restraint and inhibition are words with absolutely no meaning

⤏ the reality isn’t far off, if we’re being honest

⤏ ‘heaven’ is keigo’s personal playground, a place where he can be anybody he wants to

⤏ typically, that anybody is pulling pretty little whores into the giant vip room, and pumping them chock full of his favorite pills: angel dust

⤏ when his own high kicks in, the fun begins. and at that point, even keigo thinks he may be the devil incarnate

“Tsk, tsk,” Keigo wags a slender finger in front of your face, snatching the pretty little capsule from your hand. 

Quick, pounding percussion still pulses at your ears, though the VIP room is much quieter than the club floor— cooler as well. Without the mass of compressed, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding, you feel a bit over exposed in your two piece set. For a second, you have the urge to cover your midriff, but the angel in front of you sweeps your attention yet again. 

“How do good girls ask for pills?” He’s teasing you, has been since the moment he approached you spouting some nonsense about being the club owner. While you were initially adamant in your disbelief, only agreeing to follow him for his tempting promise of ‘proper drugs,’ the extravagance of the VIP room sways your opinion now. 

Also, the man swims in luxury, seems to be bathed in an ethereal glow that screams money from the tips of his perfectly tousled hair down to the Givenchy trainers on his feet. The richest men always dress in subtleties; you just have to know where to look. 

Your assumptions were confirmed when he ordered top shelf booze. They were absolutely set in stone when Rumi, the Playboy Bunny turned supermodel, settled into the booth next to him and plopped a kiss on his cheek. 

“The sick bastard will really only give it to you if you say pretty please,” the gorgeous woman chuckles, looking every bit as intimidating as she does on the runways. “Like this,” she clasps her hands together— fingernails sporting a fierce, red manicure— and turns towards the smug blonde. “Please Keigo, a pill.” 

It’s unclear whether her tone is sincere, sickly sweet words dripping with mockery and faux praise. Either way, you refuse to be the butt of their jokes. Begging for drugs? Over your dead body. 

Keigo must feel your hesitation, must sense the subtle shift in your body language, because his eyebrows narrow for a fraction of a second before quickly regaining their place far atop his forehead— practiced nonchalance, seemingly perfected over years.  

He hands the pill to Rumi, and then another, pushing his slender fingers into hers without breaking your mutual gaze.

“Oops,” he feigns apology, “looks like I gave two pills to Rumi.” He slants a quick look at the platinum blonde. “You can just take one from her, sweetheart.” 

When you break your glare to peek at the beautiful woman next to him, she’s giggling. The sound is practically silent, a twinkly little thing that barely reaches your ears and doesn’t rumble through her entirety like laughter truly should. 

“Silly me,” she smirks, piercing eyes scanning over you now, “I didn’t realize.” Though you’re sure the night can’t get any stranger, she lets her tongue loll from between supple lips, painted bright red to match her nails. Low and behold, there are two pills, both dangling enticingly on her curved tongue.

“Aw,” Keigo coos, pout brimming with ridicule. Though you attempt to speak up, entirely fed up with this humiliating charade, he doesn’t miss a beat. “She can still have one though, can’t she Rumi?” 

She simply nods, swaying her tongue once more before curling it back into her mouth. He can’t mean— no, he wouldn’t. But the pair simply stares at you, famishment gleaming in their eyes like a pair of ravenous wolves. 

He wants you to kiss her. 

Every one of your nerves stands on end, willing you with a passion to reject his slimy offer. You’re not a Barbie doll for him to play with, to dress and undress and buy off with a bright pink mansion to boot. 

But then again, the pros do vastly outweigh the cons. When’s the next time you’re going to have the chance to kiss a supermodel? And with someone as beautiful as Keigo watching? You take a deep breath, standing up and bracing your arms against the table to lean over. 

And then, you are kissing her. 

Rumi’s lips taste like whiskey sour and a spice that you can’t quite place. She’s quick to take control, cupping your jaw with slender fingers and nipping at your lip. There’s a slight twinge of pain before each swipe of her tongue across your lip, and it’s a miracle that she keeps the pills nestled under her tongue; she kisses you with such passion, such dizzying ferocity, that you feel your head spin. It’s definitely not the alcohol. 

When her lips bite again, more aggressive this time, you part your own in a low, teasing groan. She swings a knee over the table— pushes closer, pulls you further into her. You’re losing your breath, unable to keep up, but she simply continues her onslaught, as though you’ve stolen her last breath and she’s aching to get it back. 

Only when her tongue slinks across the back of your teeth and makes its home between them, does she offer up the pill from under the wet muscle. 

With a parting smile against your mouth, she pulls away. 

“Hope you like that pill as much as you did the kiss,” she speaks, lips, puffy but still perfectly painted, inches from your own. She stays put, watching the strand of drool still connecting the two of you. 

You wish you could say something, anything, to the goddess of a woman, but you’re left in a haze. If it isn’t for the subtle tap against your throat, you’d forget to swallow the pill you worked so diligently for. As she finally recedes, you make a mental note for later: world-renowned supermodel Rumi smells like cinnamon. 

“Bunny got your tongue?” Keigo chuckles, now standing next to your side of the booth, and slithering a lithe hand across your lower back. You’d almost forgotten the smug bastard was there, but one glance his way and you remember where you are: a public space. 

Sure, the VIP lounge is practically empty, save for a few stragglers here and there, but those people are presumably A-listers. And they just watched you make out with a woman all for drugs and the entertainment of a very wealthy man. 

Still, it probably isn’t the worst image they’ve ever seen. 

Rumi gives you another once over, baring sharp canines that seem to sparkle beneath the low, purple lights. Even after your intimate moment, she somehow seems more intimidating— or perhaps, more ravenous. She makes some comment to Keigo about giving you her number, throws a wink your way, and ends the encounter with another quick peck on his cheek. 

Then, with hips swaying seductively to the beat, she makes her descent down the stairs to join the thrall of bodies as her high hits, leaving you and the blonde alone. Chancing a glance his way, you decide that’s not a terrible thing. 

That same pompous smirk is plastered across his face, that same insatiable look in his eyes. His blonde locks remain in a state of perfect dishevelment, and when he runs a hand through it, his jewelry— rings upon rings and a watch that probably costs more than your rent— catches the light, shimmering wildly. 

“We’re going to peak soon.”

It’s all he says, before leading you towards the stairs and down, down, down— straight into Heaven. 

-

Wisps of baby pink, streams of bright blue— cotton candy fills the air and washes the man in front of you in a delectable light. It begs you to take a bite, to do more than press your warm, wanton body against him. 

“How do you feel?” Keigo’s teeth graze the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the side of your face. With his arms wrapped around your waist, he envelops you fully, allowing you to grind and move as you please. The heat radiating off your bodies could rival the sun. 

“Like I’m flying,” you throw your hands into the air; he grazes them with his own. Every touch sends a cacophony of sparks across your flesh, every murmur of praise a chilling tingle down your spine. And when he strains his hips against yours, it heats you further, all throughout your core. You need him— right here, right now, bathed in candied pinks and sugar-filled blues.  

As though he can hear your thoughts, or perhaps you’ve said them aloud, his slender fingers slither further down your body. Down, down, down— dashing under your tight skirt to rub across your soaked slit. When you cry out, a symphony of desire, he simply presses harder, rubs faster. 

Just as you’re about to see stars, to grab at the spun sugar surrounding you and take an overwhelming chomp, he removes his magic fingers. You’re aware you’re crying out, feel as though the entire world’s been ripped away from you, but he simply shushes you with a slick digit against your lips.

“Let’s take this back upstairs, yeah?” The devil pokes at your side. 

You’re already being whisked away, deeper into paradise. 

                          ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ 光 ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

[nicka-nell]

I'm Kiyoomi Sakusa and I'm a germaphobe - Chapter 2: I’m not a germaphobe

Words: 1.466 Warning: none

Chapter 1 -  Bacteria, fours and everything else     | Masterlist

(y/n) = your name | (l/n) = last name | (e/c) = eye colour | (h/c) = hair colour

„Tell Fogawa-san how is your wife?" (y/n) asks her patient as she slowly loosens his threads and pulls them out of his arm. „Oh you know, (l/n)-sensei, she’s fine. She went to our daughter’s house yesterday and will stay there until tomorrow. You know, our daughter is about to have a baby." The elderly man boasts with joy and only briefly deforms his face when the second thread is pulled.

„Oh, that's great news. Congratulations, does she know what it’s gonna be?" Briefly, her (e/c) eyes look at him, but quickly wander back down to his arm. „A girl.“ he smiles openly. Just when (y/n) can say something, the door behind her is torn open with an incredible force.

While Fogawa is frightened and convulses, (y/n) calmly pulls the threading out of his arm. „(l/n)-sensei! I am so sorry, but the young man here just stormed off and I couldn’t stop him anymore." Wakami tries to apologize. (y/n) could almost feel sorry for that poor woman. She’s only been here a month and has to deal with a special person like this man.

„I have an appointment, and it’s exactly in two minutes." Sakusa hisses and enters the room. But (y/n) doesn’t answer him. The last thread is now drawn, and she looks up joyfully to Fogawa. „This looks good, doesn’t it? Here you have the recipe for the physio lessons. We have a physio practice nearby. You can go there if you want. But of course you can also choose one that is closer to your place of house. Say, unknown wise, my congratulations on your daughter’s pregnancy, yes?" With a calm voice she gets up from her chair and helps the man to get up. Still somewhat confused, he looks back and forth between her and the two people in the door, but then thanks her and says goodbye.

„(l/n)-sensei...I'm so sorry..." Wakami tries to apologize again with a sad look. „Wakami-san, please go with Fogawa-san and leave the new patient to me." Her calm voice makes Wakami relax a little and her shoulders fall down.

Still (y/n) has not turned around. Instead of welcoming the new patient, she first disinfects the bed on which her patient sat and then drops the bottle. With a sigh, she then turns to her colleague and her new patient and takes off her one-way gloves to throw them away in a bucket next to her.

„And you’re the impatient patient who doesn’t want to go to the emergency room because of a broken finger, but needs an appointment right away... Then come here." she says monotonously, but if he listens carefully, he can hear a small hint of sarcasm in her voice. With her words, she puts on new disposable gloves and sits back on her chair with crossed legs.

Only her eyes are visible, as her face mask covers the rest of her face. But he had never seen such beautiful eyes. Like a cat, she checks him out. He didn’t expect to find such a young, pretty woman. Aren’t most surgeons old men or women? She must have started her studies pretty early...

„Do you just want to stand there now?" her voice pulls him out of his thoughts. „Sit down.“ With a head movement she signals to him that he should sit on the freshly disinfected couch. „Wakami-san, please go now and close the door behind you." Nodding, she quickly grabs the door handle and closes the door, leaving (y/n) and Sakusa alone in the treatment room.

With his hands in his jacket pocket, he walks towards the gurney and sits down skeptically. „So unknown one, then show me your hand, so I can’t see anything." (y/n) smiles with a sarcastic undertone.

„I'm Sakusa. Kiyoomi Sakusa.“ The black-haired man answers her in a calm tone and takes his hands out of his jacket pocket. Cautiously he takes off his gloves and hides a painful sound.

(y/n) already noticed at the beginning that he wears a facemask. At first she thought, by the appointment request and the mask, he would have a previous illness and so did not want to expose himself to any danger. But now that she sees his dry, cracked hands, she realizes a lot. He's a germaphobe.

„You have dry hands." she says, looking at the hand that supposedly has the broken finger. „You’re supposed to look at my finger and not rate my skin." He just hisses. „You're suffering from germaphobia. Don't get me wrong. A life as a germaphobe is not easy. They are limited in their professional life, social contacts and general life. But no one tells them how to live. Just do me a favor and buy yourself an salve for your dry skin. When your skin bursts, it provides a much larger area of attack for bacteria. I’ll prescribe you an salve." She mumbles to herself while she looks at his fingers. „I'm not a germaphobe...“ he hisses again, but looks closely at the young woman in front of him.

„Oh? Then you surely have no problem to shake hands with me, do you?" With her eyebrow raised, (y/n) looks at the black-haired man in front of her. Annoyed, he turns his head to the side. „I don’t know why it matters now." He grumbles when he sees the young woman’s hand stretched out before him. Triumphantly, she pulls her hand back and says nothing more.

Energetic (y/n) gets up from her chair and asks Sakusa to follow her. „We have to x-ray the finger once. After that we know more, but for me it looks more like a sprain, how did that happen?" She asks curiously, as she, with Sakusa behind her, goes into the room for the x-rays. „In sports.“ he barely answers her as he catches himself watching her hip swing. How disgusting Kiyoomi, he thinks and only shakes his head.

„Let me guess, from your build, I would consider you a volleyball player... Strong arms, strong back... are you an ace?“ she mumbles in front of her and puts a lead apron around him and pushes him down on a chair. Concentrated, she fixes the apron.

“It’s not hard to see, I’m wearing my team jacket." With his eyebrow raised, he looks through the room. „How interesting..., do you really think that I take care of that? Small talk is probably not your thing what? Then just stay there. Do you wear jewelry?" With her head tilted to the side and her hands on her hips, she looks at the man in front of her.

Shaking his head, his gaze wanders from her to his hand. For the fact that she was so friendly with her previous patient earlier, she is quite tough with him. „I leave the room for the X-rays and I’ll be right back." She calls out to him on the way out.

Several recordings are made and the two wait for a moment until they see the evaluation of the recordings on her PC screen. „Everything looks good so far, no fracture, your finger’s just sprained. I’d give you a bandage and you’d rest your hand for a few days, all right?"

Her gaze changes between the recordings and Sakusa as he nods and looks at his hand with relief. He’s glad it’s not boken. After wrapping the bandage around his finger and writing him a recipe for a skin salve, (y/n) gets up and opens her room door. „All right, then you can go now." As if another person were standing in front of him, she smiles at him with her beautiful eyes.

„Goodbye (l/n)-sensei." He says goodbye to her as he passes her. „Goodbye Sakusa-san... Oh yeah and...  the next time you have a sprained finger... Go to the emergency room like everyone else, because of this, my break is gone." she spits at him.

There is the familiar mean devil Sakusa had not seen in her for a short moment. For a brief moment, she looked to him like a peaceful doctor’s angel. But now that the door was slammed in his face, he knew that this woman was anything but not an angel.

Annoyed, (y/n) holds her finger to her temple. „What a weird guy... I'm not a germaphobe. Sure.“ she grins and just wants to disinfect the bed when she sees an unknown key ring lying there. It must be from Sakusa. 

„Oh damn it...“

Chapter 3 - A woman?

Taglist: @kara-grayson04​

[thehellcatcroons]

An Ordinary Woman

Summary: Left alone for the weekend while Dante takes a job out of town, Trish gets a call from Lady inviting her over for dinner. This short story explores Trish’s thoughts and feelings as she wrestles with her identity and the idea of friendship. 

The idea for this kind of loosely came from an episode of Inuyasha, where Kikyo explains that without the shikon jewel, she’d be free to be an ordinary woman, and that’s all she ever wanted. I wanted to apply the idea of just wanting to be, or even just feel, like an ordinary woman to Trish, who I think probably questions her identity a lot. 

Characters: Trish, Lady- Mentions of Dante

**Brief mentions of drinking wine**

Also up on Ao3 (Tumblr mucked up some of my formatting.)

   Glittering reflections of flickering lights danced in the quickly puddling streets of the city as a tall, flaxen haired woman sauntered down them; the usual song of the city night masked by the heavy and steady beating of the rain. Trish had found herself growing a fondness for it, and tonight it proved to be welcome company on her walk to Lady's apartment. It was summer now, a season that could have contended with Hell's own fires, but the showers themselves were cool as ice as they fell from the night sky and caressed her overheated skin. She took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the humidity that hung heavily in the air.

  Dante had gone out of town on a job, and the phone hadn't rung in days; Trish had grown tired of sitting around the shop by herself waiting for work. She had managed to find some little ways to keep herself busy here and there. She'd tidied the office and cleaned the spoiled food from the fridge, she'd even hung a few devil arms on the walls to get them off of the floor, since everyone at the office seemed to have been tripping over them. But she'd finished cleaning up a day ago, and today she'd realized that the television in Dante's office didn't operate the way he said it was supposed to. Supposedly it showed moving pictures, but all she had gotten from it was static; no matter how many buttons she clicked or positions she twisted the antenna into. Come to think of it, she'd never even seen Dante use it before, how could she be sure it even worked at all? Thankfully, Lady had called to check in on her just as she was tempted to zap the damned thing with her lighting.

  It was the first time Dante had left her alone at the shop for more than a day. It had only been a year since they'd returned from Mallet Island, and there was still a lot about the human world that puzzled Trish. Though, she was never shy about the things that she didn't understand, she knew that if she was going to be living in this world, she'd need to learn a great many things about it. But much to her disappointment, Dante seemed clueless about a lot and Trish found herself talking to Lady more and more as of late. She'd been grateful to hear her voice on the other end of the line after her few days of solitude.

  “Leave it to Dante to take the only paying job around! Why don't you close on up and come over here? I could use the company. I'd offer to pick you up, but I just started cooking. Guess I didn't really think about that one...” Trish remembered hearing her hearty laugh through the receiver. “Then again, I guess you'd get wet either way since all I have is the bike!”

  “Oh, a little rain won't bother me! Besides, I think I'm starting to like it.” She'd said before eagerly hanging up and shutting up shop for the night; the rain wasn't the only thing she'd been growing a fondness for.

  She and Lady had very much gotten off on the wrong foot when they first met. In fact, they'd tried to kill one another. When they later found out that the incident could have been avoided if Dante had just introduced them, they'd both laughed if off, and laughed at Dante. In fact, since the incident (and much to Dante's dismay,) the two of them had seemed to bond a great deal over poking fun at him.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the drumming of the rain and interrupting Trish's thoughts. The strange sounds of this world were another thing that Trish had found herself slowly growing used to. The demon world had been a strangely quiet place, while the human world was just the opposite; the streets were always alive with the sounds of horns and hollers. She'd remembered Lady telling her that it wasn't like this everywhere, that there were some places in the human world that were quiet and still.    

 How dull they must be. She thought, smiling at the buzzing neon lights of the bars and shops that lined the streets.

  This world was a fascinating place. There was so much to see, so much to do, so much to know. Trish had already learned a great deal of things in just her short year here. But despite all of the wonders of the world that she was in now, what she was learning the most about was herself; who she was, and who she wanted to be. She'd been born of malice, hatred even, created by a monster for some sick revenge.

  “But that's not who you are.” Dante had told her when they'd returned from the island. “You saved me, and instead of returning to the demon world, you chose to come back here with me. That's gotta count for something, right?”

  Maybe. She thought, recalling the memory. But then, what does that make me?

  She knew that she wasn't evil, she just couldn't muster the hatred for it. She was more concerned with who she was, and constantly grappled with her ideas about her identity. After all, nothing was truly hers, everything she had belonged to someone else at one point or another. Her face and her beauty both belonged to a woman long dead. Her guns, Luce and Ombre, had been given to her by Dante. Her strength, her powers, all given to her by her creator, nothing earned. Even her life had belonged to someone else at one point, someone who had cast her aside without a second thought the moment she had failed him. She supposed her name was hers, she'd chosen it after all. But was that it? Was that all she had in this world, after all she'd been through?

  The glint of the small silver speaker box that hung outside of Lady's building caught Trish's eye, it was sweet beacon of light to her, casting aside her doubts and replacing them with a strange sense of hope. Her pace seemed to quicken as she approached it, one finger already extended and ready to hit the little button next to Lady's apartment number. A short moment after, she heard the static of the other line picking up through the speaker box.

  “Oh! Jeez, you sure walk fast!” She heard Lady's cheery voice on the other end. “I'll buzz you up!” The line clicked off and Trish heard the obnoxious buzz of the main doors being unlocked. Perhaps there were some noises in this world that she didn't care for after all.

  The inside of the building was an entire world brighter than outside, though Trish credited most of it to the gross overuse of the color white. The paint on the walls was almost as glossy as the tiled floors that made up the lobby. The florescent lighting was almost blinding, and Trish had to let her eyes adjust for a moment before heading to the elevator.

“Good grief.” She muttered to herself as the cabin creaked and groaned its way down to her. “Why are human machines so noisy?”

  As the doors opened, a small hoard of adolescent girls pushed their way out, chattering excitedly about junk food, movies, and something called a 'sleepover.'

   “God Jenna, you're so lucky your mom leaves you all of this money when she goes away, we can get whatever we want from the corner store!” Trish heard one of them say.

   “It's only because I hate her new boyfriend, she's just doing it so I'm not a bitch to her when she comes home.” Their giggles were cut off as the elevator doors finally slid shut behind Trish.

  It seemed to Trish that a decent amount of human rituals involved food. Not only did they need it to nourish themselves, but they used it as a way to bond with one another as well. Though she didn't exactly need human food to sustain herself, she did enjoy it from time to time when it wasn't pizza for the fifth night in a row.

  The cabin jerked slightly as it reached its destination, the doors struggling to part ways. The third floor hallway was a welcome site, its interior much duller than the florescence of the first. Soft gray carpet padded the floors, while the walls were bound in a calm blue wallpaper. Trish didn't have to walk far before she found herself outside of Lady's door.

  She hesitated for a moment before she knocked, almost nervous to be spending time with Lady by herself. After the events of their first encounter had blown over, Lady had always seemed kind towards her, but Trish could always tell that there was something else there. There was an underlying uneasiness that kept Lady tense and on edge around Trish, and even Dante sometimes. Though, it did seem like Lady tried to hide those feelings from them both. Trish was honestly surprised that she had even invited her over, but she was thankful all the same.

   “Hey- woah, ok....how are you not soaked?” Lady asked when she answered the door. Trish shrugged as she walked in, her heels clicking against the floors once more as the terrain changed to hardwood.

   “I can use my powers for more than just fighting.” She replied, innocently.

   “Well, I suppose having demonic powers would come in handy for all sorts of things.” Lady said as she closed the door behind them and shuffled to the kitchen that was just to the left of it.

  She wasn't dressed in the normal attire that Trish was used to seeing her in. Instead, she was sporting soft black shorts with white polka dots, and a baggy gray tee shirt that hung off of her shoulders. Trish looked down to see that she was barefoot, and had a multitude of rings wrapped around her toes.

   “I hope you don't mind spaghetti, it's just about done.” Lady said, picking up a wooden spoon and stirring the contents of a large pot.

   “What's that?” Trish asked.

   “You've never had- oh gosh!” She said, realization suddenly dawning on her. “You probably don't even need to eat, do you? I didn't even think about it.” She almost sounded disappointed.

   “Well no, but, I like it. Trying new things has been....an interesting journey for me.” She smiled at Lady as she took a seat on one of the tall steel bar stools that sat next to the counter.

   “I'm sure you're really expanding your pallet living with The Prince of Pizza.” She joked as she plopped two glasses onto the counter in front of Trish and filled them with wine. Trish noted that there was something different in the way that Lady was acting, she seemed far more relaxed than she normally was.

   “It was kind of you to think of me.” Trish chuckled at Lady's jab at Dante as she grabbed one of the glasses and brought it to her lips.

   “I figured you could use a friendly face, being all alone in that office can't be much fun.”

   “No, but I did manage to get some cleaning done without Dante there.” She sighed. “He never wants anyone to touch anything.”

   “Always says he'll get to it, but never does?” Lady quipped as she sauntered back to the stove. “Been there, done that. I offered to help clean up about a thousand times when we first met. I guess all men are destined to be stubborn, demon or not.”

   Trish laughed as Lady spooned the food she'd made out onto some plates for them.

   “In any case, I'm glad you're here to give me some company. And that you're willing to humor me and eat my cooking.” She made her way back over to the counter and placed the plates down between them.

   “Well, what do you think?” Lady asked as she watched Trish take a bite. “This isn't the first thing you've had besides pizza, is it?”

   Trish covered her mouth as she stifled a laugh, still chewing.

   “I've tried other foods!” She managed to quip back once she finally swallowed. “I do like this though, what's it called again?”

   “Spaghetti.” Lady laughed. “And I'm glad.”

   “I heard some girls talking about something called a sleepover when I was getting on the elevator. What is that?” Trish asked suddenly after they'd spent a long and comfortable silence enjoying their food.

   “A sleepover?” Lady asked, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. “I've never really been to one myself. But, it's when kids, er- friends, get together and spend the night at each other's houses. They usually stay up all night doing stuff like watching movies, painting nails, telling scary stories, eating junk food.”

   “How come you've never been to one?”

   Lady looked down into her glass of wine, as if the answer was at the bottom.

  “Well...” She began, she looked up at Trish nervously. “My parents were both a bit overly protective when I was really young, so I was never allowed to stay over anyone's house. I think my mom knew my father was....off, so she never let me have any friends over our house. I ran away from home after he killed her, dropped out of school, stopped having friends.” Her voice was suddenly a whisper. She sighed as she took a long sip from her glass.

   “I'm so sorry....” Trish replied. She'd almost forgotten, Lady may be human, but that didn't mean she was normal by any means.

   “It's alright.” Lady replied. “I guess some human experiences are unfamiliar to me too, the ones I was robbed of anyway.” She half laughed.

  Trish looked down at her plate as she took another bite, thankful for something to keep her mouth occupied. She hadn't meant to upset Lady, and she'd forgotten how easy it was to stir up bad memories with just a few small words. She found herself feeling strangely disappointed. Lady had only just started relaxing around her, had she ruined that already? Did she break a trust that they were only just starting to build?

   “Hey, you know what?” Lady chirped suddenly. “We can have one tonight!”

   “Have what?”

   “A sleep over. I've never been to one, you've never been to one. Let's have one here, I have a bunch of movies we can watch, and I'm sure I can dig up some pajamas that'll fit you. Well, maybe, you're awfully tall.” She laughed.

   Trish smiled, eager to feel a little bit more normal. “You're sure you're ok with me staying here?”

   Lady hesitated before answering. “Why not? It'll be fun! We're already eating and drinking anyway, that's about half of the activities right there.”

  Trish was taken back, Lady was clearly wary of demons, yet it seemed like she was going out of her way to extend kindness towards her. Why? What had she done to deserve it? She hadn't saved her life like she'd saved Dante's. Still, Trish couldn't help but smile at the gesture.

  It wasn't long before the two women found themselves sitting on Lady's couch, laughing at an old movie and working their way through their second bottle of wine. With each passing sip the world around Trish was becoming more and more intriguing. Lady's laugh was a sweet symphony in her ears, harmonizing perfectly with the rain that was battering hard against the many windows in the apartment. The continuous waves of laughter that passed over her were giving her a feeling that she found herself wanting to chase.

  Was this why humans kept company with each other so often? This feeling? Being at the shop with Dante wasn't like this at all. They mostly worked, and when they weren't working, he was mostly drinking and moping. She didn't like to be around him much when he got heavily depressed, she didn't like the look in his eyes when he looked at her, like he was being tortured. It was hard not to feel out of place when someone was constantly looking at you as if you were a ghost, haunted by your presence. Though, it wasn't like that all of the time, and Trish had to admit that he seemed to getting a bit better about it as of late. Still, it was nice to be around someone who didn't make her feel that bitter uneasiness at all.

  As the screen on the television went black, Lady pushed herself off of the couch.

   “Well, what did you think of your first movie?” She asked eagerly, pulling the tape from the machine that rested beneath the television.

   Trish nodded through her fit of giggles. “That was funny.”

   “Another one then?”

   “Another one!” She replied, zealously pouring herself another glass wine.

  As the opening credits began to make their way across the screen, Trish found herself feeling oddly comfortable, like she was no longer out of place. It was as if she wasn't sitting in an apartment that belonged to someone she'd tried to kill half a year ago. No, instead she was starting to feel like she was sitting in an apartment that belonged to a friend. It was almost a strange thought to have, half a year ago they'd been ready to fill one another with bullets. Tonight, they sat together laughing over wine.

   “Can I ask you something?” She suddenly asked before she could even think about the words she was saying.

   “Sure.” Lady sounded almost curious about the question.

   “Why did you ask me to come over here?” Trish asked, fixing her eyes to the remaining liquid in her glass, swirling it around with anticipation.

   “What do you mean?”

   “Well, you seem very wary of demons, and I sense an uneasiness from you when I'm around. I just wasn't sure what made you want to invite a demon into your apartment.”

   Lady shifted in her seat, looking up from the television and over to Trish. A nervous expression crept across her face.

   “To tell you the truth, if I'd met you ten years ago, I probably wouldn't be so kind. Demons and I have an unsavory history, my father was obsessed with them, and that destroyed my life. I didn't even think that I'd end up working with Dante after we met to be honest. I didn't really trust him for a long time, but giving him a chance showed me that all demons aren't the same. There are some out there who fight against their own kind, and I'm starting to believe that it might be worth it to give them a chance.” Lady took a sip from her glass before continuing. “You've kind of helped reinforce that idea. You're a full blooded demon, and you choose to stay here and help humans.”

   Trish almost didn't believe what she was hearing. “Me?”

   “Well, yeah. Dante told me you were created just to kill him, and now you're here helping him hunt your own kind. I think that's pretty amazing.” She laughed. “Come to think of it, when I invited you over I almost forgot you were a demon. I was kind of just thinking about how nice it'd be to spend time with another woman. You know, have some quality gal time? I haven't had too many friends outside of Dante, this life doesn't really allow for it.” Lady was talking a bit faster than she normally did, a side effect of the wine.

   She thinks of me as just another woman, she thinks of me as her friend. Trish thought to herself, utterly stunned into silence.

  The life of a devil hunter was a lonely one, Trish had noted that even Dante didn't have many friends. He seemed to go out of his way to live a solitary life, admitting to her once that he'd left behind someone he loved for this life. He was even cold to Lady from time to time, keeping her just at arms length, despite the fact that they had a lot in common with one another. Trish had always thought that he didn't act that way with her because she reminded him if his mother, but now she was thinking that perhaps it was because she wasn't human. He didn't have to worry about her getting hurt the way he would with a human companion. Perhaps that's why hunters flocked to one another so much, they'd all chosen this life for one reason or another, and perhaps even a solitary lifestyle left humans craving some form of connection.

   “Can I ask you a question?” She heard Lady ask before she even had the chance to respond.

   “Well, I think it's only fair since I just asked one of my own.”

   “Have you ever painted your nails before?”

   “What?” The question seemed so off topic and out of place to Trish, but perhaps this was another side effect of the wine.

   “Your nails!” Lady help up her hand so that Trish could see her finger nails. They were painted a sparkly black, chipped here and there from working and wear. “It's something people do at sleepovers. I was going to repaint mine, I could do yours if you want. I have a red that'll really match that lipstick you always wear.”

   She laughed. “Sure!”

  Lady's eyes lit up with excitement, making Trish smile even wider. She seemed so excited to do something so small, so ordinary; but her enthusiasm warmed Trish in a way that she found hard to find words for in the moment. She watched as Lady bounded to her room and back, retuning with a few small bottles and a roll of paper towels.

   “Ok!” The brunette said spiritedly as she plopped back down onto the couch and crossed her legs beneath her. She began to shake one of the bottles vigorously. “Give me your hand.” She said as she extended her own towards Trish.

  Trish turned to face her and held out a hand, surprised at how soft Lady's were as she gingerly held her wrist with one hand, and began to paint with the other. They spent so much of their time handling guns and various other weapons, how on Earth were her hands so soft? Was it magic?

   “Your hands are so soft.” She found herself blurting out, an almost childlike wonder peaking through in the tone of her voice.

   Lady laughed. “If there's one thing I learned in this life, it's to find one little luxury worth spending a little extra on. Something that makes you feel like you're still human, some semblance of normalcy. For me, it's occasional manicures and very expensive lotion. It helps remind me that I'm more than just a demon hunter, that I'm still....a lady.” She giggled at the last part.

   “You know, I kind of feel like that when I put on make up.” Trish admitted. “I like the way it feels.”

   Lady regarded Trish with a surprised smile as she released her hand. Trish brought it closer to her face and wiggled her fingers, watching the shiny red polish glint in the light.

   “It's still wet, so don't touch them, or anything else for a few minutes.” She reached for Trish's other hand and began to paint the nails on it.

   Trish smiled as she moved her fingers around, admiring the way they looked now that they were painted.

   “Wow, this really is pretty, and it does match my lipstick.”

   “Toldja.” Lady quipped, winking. “You know, I don't use this color much if you wanna borrow it. Unlike Dante I trust that you'll actually give my stuff back.”

  The pair erupted into a fit of giggles, the movie they had put on was slowly becoming white noise in the background, their camaraderie almost drowning it out completely.

   “How come you two don't get along?” Trish asked when their laughter had subsided.

   Lady looked like she was caught off guard. “It's not that we don't get along. We don't dislike one another. It's just that...” She trailed off, looking down at the couch as she thought. “I met him on the second worst night of my life, the night I killed my father. My father was an evil man....if you can even call him that. In the end he was something else completely. He had to die, if not for what he did to my mother, for what he was going to do to others. But, that doesn't mean it still doesn't haunt me. I had to do it. I had to take his life, with my own hands. It's hard not to be reminded of that when I look at Dante. We have a lot in common, way more than I'd like to admit, but no matter how much time passes I'm still reminded of that night when I'm around him. Maybe that's why he's cold to me at times, he lost Vergil that night. Maybe he can't help but to remember that when he looks at me too.”

   “That's terrible.” Trish whispered, she was slowly beginning to realize that painful memories could be dredged up with just a simple question.

   “Oh, it's ok. We get along just fine when we need to, and I still consider him a friend. But I suppose we'll never be that close, and that's ok.” She smiled up at Trish. “You know what's kind of funny?”

   “Hmm?”

   “Despite the fact that we're both demon hunters, and that we tried to kill each other when we first met, tonight is the most normal I've felt in a long time. It's nice to spend time with someone who doesn't bring up bad memories for me, doing normal things that everyday people do.” She mused.

   Trish returned the smile, beaming from ear to ear. “I feel the same way.”

  And she did, realizing in that moment that she had finally earned something for herself, Lady's trust, her friendship. She'd done it without having to save her life, or double cross her creator. She'd earned Lady's trust simply by following her own path and choosing to fight against evil. By listening to her rant about Dante, by joking around with her when she'd needed it. It wasn't one big moment that brought them together, like with her and Dante. It had been all the small moments, all the gestures that Trish had thought nothing of at the time that made their friendship blossom.

  She could feel a deep, yet unfamiliar warmth spreading within her, her smile becoming unyielding in the face of her new realizations. She had a friend, a friend whose trust she'd earned all on her own. For the very first time, Trish felt just like an ordinary woman, and she had to admit, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

[secretshinigami]

A First Time For Everything

Author: @complicatedmerary

For: @misora-massacre

Pairings/Characters: Halle Lidner/Naomi Misora; Naomi Misora, Halle Lidner, and I suppose Raye Penber is there, too, I guess :p

Rating/Warnings: General; brief alcohol mention

Prompt: Halle and Naomi go on a blind date

Author’s notes: Hello, hello! After writing Naomi on the other fic I gave you, I got inspired to continue writing her, especially with this intriguing prompt. I had my eyes set on a regular dinner date, but it was so boring, I had to think outside the box. How about the gentle appeal of a wlw romance of what-ifs and cherished memories? Now that is more like it! You deserve a good time after the stress of the BB fic, so, hopefully you will enjoy this! Also, the friends’ names? Totally intentional. :)

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“What do you think about sunsets, Naomi?”

“Hmm?” Naomi shook off her tiring trance. It had become the standard for Naomi to be absentminded every single time Raye wanted to have a party. In this case, he expressed desire to show off to the whole city that him, Raye Penber, had finally gotten brave enough to propose to his girlfriend, Naomi Misora. It was cute, really, Naomi thought, but a single text and some phone calls would have sufficed. She was not a big fan of crowds; he should know that already. Right?

“I said, what do you think about sunsets?” Raye embraced Naomi from the side and kissed her cheek.

She smiled. “I think they are nice, very romantic. With the right person, that is.” Especially on a nice balcony overlooking the city, as the crowd is engrossed in their own little world. Thin fingers wrap around hers, her thumb gently rubbing on the underside of her hand. Naomi looked intently at their hands and her heart skipped a beat as a rush of fluttering feelings vibrated in her stomach. Was that what they meant when they say you have “butterflies” inside you? She did not seem to mind at all, like she was used to the effect she caused because of her beauty and enthralling disposition. How many girls were they before her? Why did she care? It was not as if she was ever going to see her again. Perhaps she should give her number, make sure she never forgot about her.

“You seem deep in thought.” Her blonde hair was gently blown from the crisp breeze, it was almost too perfect.

“Hmm?” A distraction from her ramblings inside her head, but not quite. Naomi was more transfixed by her amber eyes than anything else. How can a woman be this beautiful?

Raye’s watch beeped loudly, the recreation of her memory evaporating like water. “Whoops, it’s almost time. You would not mind helping me with the drinks, would you? You are such a good mixer; our guests would appreciate it.”

He clearly meant his guests with maybe two of her friends. “Right, no problem.”

At this rate, a drink was not such a bad idea.

God, she needed a drink.

She could not believe she was looking forward to this. Cathy was so vague about this Hal guy, but what was said intrigued her. All she knew was that his name was Hal Bullook, he had blond hair, brown eyes, and he was at least over five feet and ten inches. Also, he was a CIA agent. A total dreamboat, Cathy promised. Hal has heard plenty about you, she also said. She gulped. Cathy had no filter; if she told him some embarrassing facts (like the milk slipping accident from work), then she would be mortified. Then again, maybe it will make her endearing and cute in his eyes, there was nothing wrong with that.

Today was a gathering between members of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Central Intelligence Agency, and other local governmental organizations; it was not for business, this was a regular party to get everyone together for a job well done. Plenty of fun to spread in one evening, it was bound to be unforgettable.

This was the most obnoxious party Naomi has ever been to and Raye had finally beaten his own record.

Maybe she was the one who did not understand how parties worked, but if this was an engagement party, then why was there a group of guys watching sports on her television, in her living room? And where were Cathy and Shoko? Did they miss their invitations, or did they ditch her for something else?

“Raye,” Naomi hissed, snatching him away from the group and setting him aside.

“Naomi, what was that all about? You can’t just barge in when someone is having a conversation.” Raye shook his head in disappointment.

“This is out of control! I thought the whole point of this party was to share the news. I was asked to bring snacks into the living room as if I was servant and not the main co-host. Do you realize how humiliating this is?”

“Oh, Naomi, I’m sorry, no one should treat you like this. Tell me who did it so I can tell them to leave.”

Naomi sighed. Raye could be dense sometimes, but gosh, he was too sweet. Was she making a big deal out of nothing? “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll get bored soon. By the way, have you heard from either Cathy or Shoko? You did invite them, right?”

“No, I have not heard from them, but they should be coming soon. Cathy is always late, remember?”

That was true, but that did not explain Shoko’s absence. Unless … “If they decided to arrive together, then that would explain everything.”

“Are you sure you are okay, Naomi?” Raye placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if my friends had other plans, but I promise we will make the announcement together. Just … give it some time until the mood has been set, okay?”

“Fine,” Naomi mumbled. “You did promise.”

“Thank you,” Raye pecked her lips. “Excuse me for one second.”

The doorbell rang and Naomi perked up. In an instant, both Raye and Naomi gathered by the door and let it swing open. The sight made her smile. Speak of the devil; Cathy and Shoko were just late after all.

“Wow, girl, look at you,” Cathy giggled. “You are an absolute knockout.”

And indeed, she was. Naomi was wearing a silky, black dress, her legs accentuated tastefully by the knee length and the six-inch black heels. Her long hair had been waved with a curling iron and her makeup was subtle yet elegant. Caramel lips and a brown smoky eyeshadow, she looked flawless.

“Hopefully, I did not overdo it,” Naomi shrugged.

“Nonsense, you look perfect, if you don’t make heads turn, then they are missing out.”

Naomi gave a small twirl. “I hope Hal likes me.”

“Yeah, Hal …” Cathy fiddled with her bracelet, looking to the side. “Come on, let’s go, we can’t be late.”

“You do realize you are late, right?” Naomi teased Cathy.

“Yeah, yeah, that was bad.” Cathy blushed. “But I have a good excuse this time. Traffic was a nightmare.”

“You say that every time.” Naomi drank from her glass.

“It’s true, though!” She widened her brown eyes to appear more innocent. “I know I have concealed the truth from you before, but I’m not lying right now. I have bad luck, that’s all.”

“Fine,” Naomi could not be bothered to continue this discussion. “I forgive you.”

“And that’s why you are a great friend, you are willing to look past my flaws.” Cathy giggled.

At approximately 4:30, Naomi and Cathy arrived at the gathering, prepared to have the greatest time possible. Naomi was transfixed by the amount of silver decorations the room had all over. It was as if there was plenty of money invested to make it look pretty. And from the corner of her eyes, she saw the type of food that was set on the table. It was a banquet full of delicacies that range from a fancy ham and an elaborated fruit salad.

At least she felt better about her dress code.

“Wow,” Cathy gasped.

“I know,” Naomi replied. However, there were more concerning issues. If she could find Hal, perhaps they could crack a joke about how this gathering’s budget was blown for appearances. Then again, there was the possibility that he could have a terrible sense of humor. She had to thread lightly. Now, where he could be among this sea of professionals? Funnily enough, she did not catch a lot of men that were at least taller than five feet and ten inches, so perhaps Hal was in the bathroom.

She stood there in her spot, darting around for a sign of a tall blond.

Well, she did see a tall blonde woman among the crowd, but that was definitely not Hal. Their eyes aligned and she waved at her, smiling. Naomi waved back. She must be a coworker she had never notice before, it would have looked bad if she ignored her.

However, where was he?

“What are you doing?” Cathy took her arm and dragged her in the middle of the room. “That is your date, come say hi to Halle. Hey, Halle, here she is!”

Halle? What was Cathy talking about? No, she must have been confused, Hal was somewhere around here, this had to be a joke—

Hold on a second.

This was a joke. Blonde hair, brown eyes, she seemed taller than five feet and ten inches, especially with those high heels …

Did she miss something? Did Cathy set her up with a woman all along?

“Who is Shoko’s friend?” Naomi pointed towards a young-looking man standing next to Shoko.

“Oh, that’s her new boyfriend,” Cathy shrugged. “I barely know him, he is new in town.”

“Huh,” That was all Naomi could say. Shoko’s dating habits were … unusual to say the least. That was not a negative thing, she reassured herself, Shoko was an attractive woman. With her sleek, dark brown hair, high cheekbones, and slender figure, she attracted men like honey. If Cathy can call herself unlucky, Shoko was the opposite. It was hypnotizing, really, how Shoko threw her head back with laughter and remain poised. Her boyfriend was cute and all, but he could not hold a candle to Shoko. He almost looked … average next to her.

“Wow, could you stare any harder?”

“Hmm?” Naomi was shaken from her train of thoughts.

Cathy raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms against her chest. “If I did not know any better, you still like girls. Does Shoko know that you have a crush on her?”

“Shh, Cathy, that’s enough,” Naomi set her aside. “No, I don’t have a crush on Shoko. Also, can you keep it down?”

“Wait, Raye does not know about you and Halle, does he?”

“Shh!” She raised a finger over her mouth. “No, and I would like to keep it that way. That part of my life is done for.”

“You literally stared at Shoko like you wanted to kiss her.”

“Cathy, can you drop this?” Naomi backed away. “I’m with Raye and that’s all there is to it—" When she turned around, she bumped into a guest and her glass spilled on her white blouse. The sound attracted lurking heads to witness the disaster, including Shoko’s.

“Naomi!” Raye came to the rescue with a paper towel. “Don’t worry, I can fix this.”

Humiliating tears sprung from her eyes, her shame hot against her cheeks. She waved Raye from her sight and ran towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Forget about the ruined blouse, why couldn’t Cathy mind her own business? Sure, it led to something wonderful once, but that was in the past.

Was it?

“Is she gorgeous or what?” Cathy smirked at Halle. “Naomi was looking forward to this day.”

Naomi wanted to cry from the humiliation. What did she do to deserve this?

“That makes the two of us,” Halle laughed, it sounded so warm and clear. “Thank you for helping me out, Cathy.”

“Could you excuse us for a minute?” Naomi flashed a pained smile as she set Cathy aside away from Halle, into the women’s bathroom.

“You lied to me!” Naomi whispered in anger.

“I’m sorry, okay? I met Halle in a case, and she told me that it was hard getting dates when you are a lesbian and one thing led to another and we started talking about you.”

“What. Did. You. Tell. Her?”

Cathy sighed in defeat. “That you were single and that you were totally a lesbian, too.”

“What?” Naomi was flabbergasted. “When have I ever given the impression that I was into women?”

“I mean,” Cathy waved her hands to Naomi’s sides as if her mere presence was the logical explanation. “You love to wear leather, I have never seen you in a skirt, and you ride the sturdiest motorcycle I have ever seen. Can you blame me?”

“What is wrong with you?” Naomi snapped. “I am appalled that you would do something like this. You made me believe I was meeting a guy named Hal … Oh, my God, Halle, Hal … You mispronounced the name on purpose because you knew deep down that I was never going to be okay with this.”

“I did this because I thought you knew that you were a lesbian all along and I was trying to keep it undercover for your sake!” And now Cathy was crying with tears rolling down her face. “You have to realize that I did not do this with bad intentions, I care about you, you are my best friend, I was trying to help.”

Naomi merely shook her head and sneered. “Don’t ever speak to me ever again.” And with that, she stormed from the bathroom.

“Wait, please!” Cathy collapsed on the marble floor and continued crying on her knees.

Crying was useless and a waste of time, she needed to get over herself. Naomi washed her face and wiped water with a towel, taking a deep breath to take some control back to her senses. She was going to pretend that the issue was the stained blouse and move on.

Fortunately for her, the focus was on that stupid sports game, and she was able to sneak to the bedroom and change her blouse into a regular long-sleeved, black turtleneck. She breathed out a sigh of relief. There, it was as if nothing happened.

She was not going to let this train wreck ruin her chance to have a good time, but she needed some time alone. The balcony was impressive, and it gave her the space necessary to come back to the party when she was ready. She looked ahead to the horizon and thought back to what Cathy said. Could there be some truth to her words? Sure, she did struggle getting dates with men, but surely that had nothing to do with her being into women, right? Her mind dwelled on Halle’s face and she groaned. Poor Halle, she was involved in this mess whether she liked it or not and she did not know to properly apologize to her. “I’m sorry my friend told you I was a lesbian?” Yes, that would go over well.

“If I didn’t know any better, it seems that I was not who you expected.” A familiar voice rang in Naomi’s ears.

She turned around and released a pained sigh. There she was, standing tall, unfazed that there was drama in the first place because of her. She was so put together; Naomi was almost jealous that Halle had better control of her emotions than she had.

Those CIA agents must be operating on a league like no other.

Naomi cleared her throat. “Oh, no, that’s the problem, you were described perfectly.” With an excluding factor, that is.

“Listen, I understand that blind dates can be weird, but I was willing to take a chance because it’s not every day that I get to know someone who is in the same line of work who is also into women.” Halle shrugged. “Does that make sense?”

Oh, how was she going to break it to her that she was probably not a lesbian? And yet, those words never exited from her mouth.

“It does make sense,” Naomi nodded her head, smiling. “I’m sorry about before, you are right, blind dates are weird. It could have been way worse.”

Halle chuckled. “What, like dating a serial killer?”

Naomi burst in laughter. “Oh, God, can you imagine? What are the chances of that happening in real life?”

“Believe it or not, it is way more common than you think. Thankfully, both of us are safe.”

She had to admit, Halle was funny. At least she could check off “sense of humor” off her list.

Huh. Hm.

“Just out of curiosity,” Naomi said breezily. “Did Cathy tell you anything interesting about me?”

“You mean like the ‘Milk Slipping Accident’? Yes, if that is true, you are hilarious.”

It was not surprising Cathy told her that story, she was expecting nothing less.

“It would be better if you heard my version of the story, I was the main instigator, after all.” She beckoned Halle to stand beside her. “Come on, I bet Cathy left off some important details.”

~

Whatever was going on inside did not matter when the woman in front of you also shared interesting stories of her own. One thing that Naomi learned from this fiasco was that perhaps the reason why dating men never worked out for her was because the spark was simply not there. With Halle, however, once the awkwardness went away, it just made sense. A part of her was still struggling with this newfound source of self-discovery, but once she allowed to just let herself be, it was comforting. She already admitted that she never dated another woman before today (which made Halle laugh, oddly enough), perhaps Halle would make this journey easier for her with no judgment.

“Sorry to interrupt you, but I’m just noticing that the sun is about to finally set.” Halle remarked.

“Do you like sunsets?”

“I think they can be romantic with the right person. Other than that, they are just nice.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Watched the sunset with someone else? Not romantically, no, but I always wanted to.”

“Well,” Naomi offered her hand. “There is always a first time for everything.”

~

Fast forwarding to the once evaporated memory from Naomi’s mind, after a tentative silence from both women, Naomi and Halle shared a kiss, the first of many that were set to come after Naomi insisted to at least see each other one more time. Unbeknownst to her, Cathy caught them in that embrace and never spoke one word to Naomi about it to avoid confrontation.

The following week, Halle organized a picnic date near a hill to enjoy the serenity of the lack of crowds. Naomi enjoyed herself on the mat despite the cold weather. She did not mind because she could just ask Halle to give her a jacket.

The less they talked about their eventual separation to get back to their normal, working lives, the better. If there was one thing Naomi learned from this experience is to just allow herself to be at peace with the present.

“Naomi?” Raye knocked on the door, the interruption of her thoughts never stopping her peace.

It seemed that Naomi was staring at the wall all this time. “Yes?”

He opened the door and sheepishly peered from the view. “I think it’s time.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I kicked out the rowdy people out of here, we shouldn’t encounter any more disasters.”

Naomi chuckled, embracing Raye’s neck. “They should have been kicked out way earlier, but I forgive you.”

“Oh, you forgive me?” Raye mused out loud. “You are right, I should have listened to you all along.”

She gave him a firm kiss. “At least you are learning.”

~

A loud clink could be echoed across the living room, striking attention from every angle.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” Raye began. “I know my parties are bound to be entertaining, and for good reason, but we have an announcement to make, and after this, we can properly celebrate.”

Naomi raised her right hand, allowing the sparkle of the diamond ring to bling bright. “We are engaged!”

Shoko was the first to voice her excitement and soon everyone else follow with cheers and claps.

Raye squeezed her from the side and beamed with pride to finally give up this announcement. Naomi felt celebratory for a moment, but her smile faded slowly as her mind decided to ignore the noise until it turned into a blur. She somehow felt … empty.

~

“Look, Halle, the sun is setting,” Naomi pointed at the sky.

“Crap, we have to go back,” Halle began to stand up from the mat.

“Are you kidding? I have never seen a sunset from a hill, let’s not end the fun just yet.”

“Well, if that’s what you want, I suppose we can stay longer.” Halle went back to the mat and embraced Naomi from behind, allowing her to settle against her.

Even when the sun set into dusk, none of them were willing to leave each other’s arms.

[eburneanteen-blog]

Fairy Law — One

A Not-So Typical Beginning

Summary ⟶ Whereas our story finally begins.

Pairings ⟶ Guild Friendship, Laxus/Mirajane, Natsu/Lucy, Erza/Jellal, Gray/Juvia, Gajeel/Levy.

Tags ⟶ Fluff.

Setting ⟶ After Alvarez arc.

Note ⟶ I present to you, the (unedited) beginning!

In the town of Magnolia, just at the edge of their territory, past the Kardia Cathedral, resided the guild that was known as Fairy Tail. More specifically, the strongest, most reckless, quite fearsome, very persistent, and the most unpredictable wizard guild to ever grace the continent of Fiore.

Don’t get me wrong, that guild can also be one of the most loyal of allies one can ever hope to have.

Anyone who passed by the guild could feel the tremors of the ground from the mere clatter of their daily brawl, hear the incoherent chatter, taste the barmaid’s incredible cooking, see the different mages walking through the door, and more importantly, practically smell the destruction that was about to come.

But nobody who ever set foot in the guild hall truly knew the horrors of Fairy Tail.

A typical day for the Fairy Tail wizards entailed many, many brawls that either ended as quickly as it started or ended until the Master had a thousand Jewels or more ripped right out of his pocket.

And there Makarov sat, in his usual spot in the bar counter, as he watched the chaos wrecking every corner of his guild hall. His soul practically left his body by now, leaving a ghastly pale old man in it’s absence.

“We’re gonna–we’re gonna rebuild again, aren’t we?” Makarov choked out as he watched the plethora of chairs flying from each side of the room, tables being upturned and tossed, and walls having cracks after some wizard has been roughly tossed to the side. He prayed dearly to the First Master that he’d live through this. But the thought of the amount of Jewels that would cost him today struck him painfully through the heart.

But luckily, he still had some angels left in the guild. An angel that took form of a blue-eyed demon. Truly, what an astounding guild.

“It’ll be alright, Master,” Mirajane came up to him, sporting a sickly large bump on her head, and smiled ever so sweetly. Her dark blue eyes glittered with happiness despite the commotion behind her.

The endearing smile never left Mirajane’s face as she glanced at what was left of the guild hall. She sighed contently as she leaned on the counter, supporting her head with her palms. “It’s good to be home. I wish we could stay this happy forever. We all deserve a break. Don’t you think, Master?”

Makarov nodded subtly, his arms crossed and eyes closed. “I suppose so.” Then he slammed his fist on the surface, leaving a large dent, he stood up straightly, “But it doesn’t mean the brats should tear the guild to pieces!”

“Tch.”

The brooding interjection came from Laxus who had been bobbing along to the rhythm of his music without a care to his surroundings, his fist was glowing brightly, a clear indicator that he would join the fight. He turned to Mirajane with a devilish smirk, showing off his sparking hand—not to mention the bulging muscles that tensed under the tight shirt of his.

“Want me to take care of them for you, Mira?” Laxus teased.

Mirajane immediately whacked him on the head. She put one hand on her hip as she furiously glared at him—at certain times like this, she didn’t even need her Demon Soul—and jabbed an accusatory finger at his chest.

“Don’t you dare, Laxus!” Mirajane exclaimed, a dark and cold aura emanating from all around her. “If you were to do that, you’d wipe out everybody in the guild!”

Laxus chuckled, lowering his fists as a sign of submission. “Are you saying I’m strong?”

“No!” Within a split second, Mirajane managed to slap the back of his head yet again. “I meant that you have no control on your impulses!”

“I’ll show you how much impulse control I have tonight,” Laxus’s dark eyes glinted with danger. His large arm wrapped around her tiny waist, gradually drawing her closer until he dipped down in the crook of her neck. His nose trailed along her neck until the outline of her jaw. Laxus smirk grew arrogantly as he lightly bit the shell of her ear. “Mirajane.”

Mira blinked a few times, laying her hands on his chest—definitely not feeling the muscles underneath—since her legs were so wobbly from the intimacy. After getting her woozy head from the clouds and realizing what had just happened, she wriggled her way out his grip, staggering a few steps back.

“Laxus!” Mirajane shrieked in shock. Her hands were balled into fists, ready to unleash an attack. She couldn’t believe what actually had just happened. Stupid Laxus, she thought.

Laxus only chuckled at her frantic state. Yes, he did anticipate an attack from the She-Demon, but he was positively sure that he’d be able to take whatever she threw at him. He saw eyed her small fists, and expected a flurry of pretend punches. But as he turned his gaze away, he should have realized that doing anything half-assed was not Mirajane’s favorite thing to do.

Because Laxus underestimated Mirajane, he totally didn’t predict that he’d be graced with the presence of the demon Mirajane Sitri.

And that was how Laxus was sent flying across the room. Everyone stared in shock with their mouth agape as the wizard shot across the room. And perhaps it was the surprise of it all that they didn’t realize who was he was going to crash into.

That person, who unfortunately took the brunt of his weight, was none other than the wizard who had less luck that she claimed to have, Lucy Heartfilia.

“Kya!”

Lucy yelped out loud when Laxus slammed into her side, sending her off the barstool and flat onto the floor with Laxus beside her. Both blondes were incapacitated on the ground, though Laxus was already sitting upright after a matter of a few seconds. Lucy, on the other hand, didn’t look so good. After all, no normal human could withstand Laxus’s attacks, or literally himself in her case.

Laxus turned to the side and rolled his eyes at the sight that greeted him. He stood up, despite the pounding headache, and offered a hand to her. “Geez, blondie, you look horrible.”

Luckily, it was an overstatement. It was only her hair that got dragged into the mess. What once was a neat, high ponytail, now became loose from her elastic band suddenly snapping, resulting into Lucy’s yellow hair to fall down to her waist.

Nonetheless, Lucy accepted the hand, wincing once she tried to stand up. “Thank you. What did you do to Mira-san this time, Laxus?”

Laxus grunted, crossing his arms. “I don’t know with the She-Devil. She just attacked me when I stood there silently—”

“Laxus!”

Everyone knew that somebody would smack some sense into him—after all, Mirajane wouldn’t just attack someone unless heavily provoked—and they all expected it to be Mirajane. What they didn’t expect was Natsu interrupting him.

Natsu Dragneel stood a few metres from them, obviously taking a break from his one-on-one. His entire body erupted in flames so hot that some of the guild members began to complain. Natsu’s ebony eyes fixated on one thing.

Lucy.

“What the hell did you do?!” Natsu growled out. At times like this, he couldn’t control his emotions. The determination to protect his mate—excuse me, best friend—and mixed with the adrenaline of his precious fight both clouded his way of thinking.

Laxus, eyes dull of emotion, just shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Fire Dragon’s Claw!”

And just as Natsu’s fist collided with Laxus’s face, he suddenly stopped.

He didn’t forego with his attack because somebody covered their fist over his own, their hand acting as a comforting blanket. Because he’d been so accustomed to the warm and gentle touch of this person he immediately calmed down. It was Lucy. And she was very mad.

Lucy had an eyebrow raised, her brown eyes no longer filled with sweetness and innocence, but irritation. “What do you think you’re doing, Natsu Dragneel?”

A split second later, Natsu swept Lucy off her feet and into his arms. He had one arm supporting the back of her legs and another arm cradling her head close to his chest. He completely forgot that Laxus was in front of him, and frankly, he didn’t care. But don’t fret, he’d get his well deserved fight sooner or later.

“Kyaa! Natsu! Have you gone crazy?! Put me down! Natsu! What are you doing?!” Lucy cried out in panic.

He smirked at her, thinking that he had the upper hand now. Slowly leaning towards her, he replied ever so softly, “Carrying you, Lucy Heartfilia.”

Lucy couldn’t take everything much longer. His scent. His eyes. His voice. His warm, muscly, wide chest. His arms. Just everything about him. But she didn’t want him to see how much he had affected her—damn that Salamander.

She covered her eyes dramatically, a poor tactic but she was desperate, as she whispered, “Well, my back does hurt. . .”

Natsu nodded grimly before comically turning to his side. “Happy, translate.”

Happy then appeared, his majestic wings flying him up to Natsu’s height. He had a paw underneath his chin, eyes squinted as if he was thinking hard about something. Then suddenly he turned to Natsu, eyes gleaming with pride.

“Natsu!” The Exceed exclaimed joyously. “I think she means she wants to go home so that we can all have a delicious fish dinner!”

Natsu turned his piercing gaze back to the woman squirming in his arms, a devilish smirk gracing his lips. “Oh? Then I guess I gotta do what she wants!”

Lucy shook her hand in a frantic pace, panicking that they were already moving to the direction of the guild’s doors. “Natsu, put me down!”

Natsu paused in his steps. He clocked his head down a bit, eyebrows frowning. “What was that, Luce?”

“Oh!” Natsu lifted his head, beaming like a little child. “You want me to carry you all the way home? Alright, you naughty girl!”

“Natsu!”

Before the two couple—excuse me again, best friends—left the guild, a certain someone caught the attention of Natsu.

“Natsu, come and finish the fight, you bastard!”

Gray had both of his hands prepared to throw an attack. He gritted his teeth, still having lots of energy to spare. And he had no doubt that he would throw Lucy on the floor and come spar with him.

Unfortunately for him, he was met with a surprise.

For Natsu, there was no rivaling spending time with Lucy. He had plenty of time to beat Gray’s ass but now he just wanted to snuggle with Lucy in the most comfortable bed of all, her breas—bed.

“Goodbye, Ice Queen!” Natsu waved at him enthusiastically.

Out of impulse, Gray replied with a spell. “Ice Make: Lance!”

Now the good news is that Natsu dodged the attack and was now headed down towards Lucy’s apartment.

The bad news was that Erza happened to pass by and took all of the impact.

Erza didn’t flinch when his attacks met her flesh. She just stood there, bored eyes and stiff posture. And when the spell finally ended, she turned to Gray with the darkest of glares.

“Gray Fullbuster,” Erza said menacingly. Her body was rigid, tremoring slightly from the fury welling up within her. “Better say your last words.”

The aforementioned Ice Mage trembled slightly. His eyes widened, fearing his best friend’s wrath. And before Gray could escape her fury successfully, he heard the most terrifying words known to mankind.

“Requip!”

There she was, Titania, clad in the glory of her Heaven’s Wheel Armor, with the number of swords at her back, awaiting her first command. Erza did not waver, clearly about to join the brawl in a second. With one step forward, Erza raised her sword, “Prepare to fall beneath my sword!”

Gray paled, already feeling lightheaded from his soul leaving him. Despite knowing that Erza would at least pull her attacks a little bit, Gray still wasn’t quite sure if she was being serious—but knowing her, he knew that he was about to get concussed.

Erza let out a battle cry. She was about to run into Gray, preparing for a swordfight when she was interrupted quite rudely.

“Kyaa!”

Titania let out one of her rare shrieks of surprise. She felt herself being hoisted onto something high. Her hands landed on hard, thick muscle. It took her seconds before she fully realized.

“Jellal?!”

The cloaked wizard nodded gently, patting her bum softly, not really caring if she’d decapitate him later. “Yo.”

Erza’s armor began to fade, as well as the armor around her heart. She kept hitting Jellal’s—muscled—back whilst attempting to cover her face from her nosey guild mates. Damn it. Why was her heart beating so fast?

“Jellal, put me down this instant!” Erza commanded. Though the blush on her cheeks and the cracks in her voice made it harder to take her seriously.

Jellal only shook his head. He waved everyone inside the guild hall a respectful goodbye, as if he didn’t have the great Iron Maiden on his shoulder.

“C’mon, Scarlet. I’m treating you to strawberry cake down at the bakery.”

And with that the two lovers—excuse me, my bad, I meant childhood friends—set off into the distance.

“Gray-sama!”

Juvia’s concerned cry filled the guild hall as she ran to Gray, who promptly fainted and fell to the ground. She tenderly laid his head on her lap as she brushed the tendrils of pitch black away from his eyes.

“Gray-sama, are you okay?” Juvia poked at the pale cheek. She briefly wondered if he was out for the count.

Gray, eyes halflidded, nodded sadly. He gently caught the hand that was cradling his cheek. “Juvia. . . come closer.”

The Water Mage’s eyes practically balled out of her sockets. Her heart pounded erratically as it it would bounce right through her heart. Slowly and softly, she leaned her head down until her nose met his lips.

“Yes, Gray-sama?” Juvia asked, her voice as soft as a whisper. She couldn’t believe she was this close to him. Was she finally going to get her first kiss? Her first marriage proposal? Her first child? Her first wedding? Her first boyfriend?

“I need to pee,” Was Gray’s simple answer.

Juvia froze. Her heart stopped beating so frantically. All of her weird fantasies went down the drain. She quickly muttered a myriad of apologies before setting his head on the floor.

“Juvia is sorry, Gray-sama.” She squeaked one last apology before leaving to find Wendy, who currently was lounging about with Carla and Romeo.

“Wait!”

Gray still didn’t move from his position. He laid on the floor lifelessly. But tugging at his lips, was the most devious grin ever. He stared at Juvia, eyes clouded with something undetermined.

“I need you to carry me there.”

Once those words left his mouth, nobody thought that they’d ever seen Juvia move so damn fast.

Everyone else either stifled a chuckle or went outright stiff. Of course it was only their guild that would have the pleasure of seeing weird events in the span of about ten minutes. The silence continued for about a few minutes before Cana’s burst of laughter filled the guild hall.

“Man oh man, I said it before I’ll say it again!” Cana exclaimed from her table, raising a bottle high, her cheeks flushed and eyes half closed. “I love this guild!”

“Aye, sir!” The rest of the members cheered ecstatically.

From the Raiijinshuu table, Freed leaned back on the wall, carefully watching his guild mates, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s good to be home.”

“Do you really mean that?” Evergreen said that with a blank tone, dull eyes and arms wrapped around her chest. But behind that fan of hers, was her cheeks tinted pink. Not that she’d say but she was incredibly happy to be with her guild mates as well.

“You’re just cross because Elfman won’t pay any attention to you,” Bickslow commented a bit too freely.

For the next few minutes, only the sound of Evergreen’s fan clashing against Bickslow’s head—plus his wails of surrender but don’t tell anybody that—could be heard in the Raiijinshuu’s table.

Lisanna stretched from her spot, exhausted from serving all of the members’ hungry stomachs. She laid her head on Elfman’s side, smiling happily.

“I’m going to treasure today forever, Elf-nii-chan,” Lisanna said. She saw a lot of smiles today, and she knew instantly that this was something that she’d keep in her heart a long time.

Elfman peered at his sister fondly. He ruffled her shoulder-length hair, smiling warmly at her high-pitched protests. “You’re manly, Lisanna.”

“Nii-chan!” Lisanna pouted. She huffed and turned her head to the side. “I’m a woman, you know. I’m bound to get married soon.”

“That’s not manly!”

And from there, the two siblings bickered about marriage and boys. Unbeknownst to them that there was a couple—silly me, I meant friends— also bickering beside them.

“Gajeel!”

“Shrimp!”

Levy McGarden stomped her tiny little foot on the floor. For the past minute she was trying to tell the stubborn man in front of her that she was cross with him, but he didn’t pay any attention to her ramblings.

“Gajeel!” Levy shouted. She pushed headband back into it’s proper place before jabbing a finger at his chest. “I said leave me alone!”

Levy already turned around with every intention to leave. But before she could continue on with her dramatic entrance, somebody had put a tight grip on her wrist. She spun around to meet the intense crimson eyes of the Iron Dragon Slayer.

“Gajeel,” Levy whined. Her attempts at freeing herself failed miserably. “Let me go.”

“Never.”

Levy raised an eyebrow. She started to become slightly annoyed with his antics. She was practically drooling at the thought of his ches—she meant her books. “Stop this right now, Gajeel. You’re being a dummy.”

Gajeel only shrugged. But he did relent and let go of her wrist. But mark his words, the next time he wouldn’t be so easy to manipulate. Damn the Shrimp for having an effect on him. Damn her!

Grumpy and slightly angry, Gajeel crossed his arms, sporting a tiny pout. “I don’t know why you’re so mad, Shrimp.”

Levy’s eye twitched.

She pulled a book out her of backpack. It was soaking wet and some of the pages were missing as she skimmed through it. Levy slammed the book into his chest—his big and hard chest—with comical tears streaming down her eyes.

“This! You bastard! When you ran into me, you spilled a glass of water on my book! This was a rare copy, Gajeel!” Levy cried out like a little child. She felt her heart break just by reliving the death of her baby. No magic could revive her child now.

Gajeel chuckled, running a palm down his face. “So that’s what this was about?”

Levy wiped another year from her eye as she spun around again, this time with the utmost determination to leave him. “Goodbye!”

“Oh, no you don’t.”

Before Levy could even take another step, Gajeel grabbed her waist and hoisted her onto his shoulder. All the while his heightened hearing became filled with her piercing screams.

“Honestly, Shrimp, if that’s what you wanted, you could have just asked. C’mon, how much does that cost? Twenty books? Fifty? A hundred?”

And so, the new couple—I’ve been making a lot of mistakes lately, I meant the guild mates with a platonic friendship—headed to the nearest bookstore.

Master Makarov, formerly the third and sixth master, watched as another two of his brats left the building. He took in the disappearance of their silhouette before taking another sip of his beverage. And then he smiled.

“It’s really good to be home.”

[girlafraidinacoma]

IN THE LAP OF THE GODS Ch.2:

Summary: What do you get when you mix a tight-knit art community, young, hot-blooded twenty-something university students and good old-fashioned British Rock & Roll? Probably the next best hope for art and music that generation has to offer. With her friends’ band skyrocketing to fame, what exactly does a girl do when she suddenly finds herself sitting in the lap of the gods? The answer: do the only thing she can do, rise to the occasion of course!

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Original Female Character [chill guys, this WILL be a Bri fic…eventually].

Warnings: swearing, a very dramatic Freddie, Rog has a bit of a moment with a pastry...

Words: 2.2k +

Author’s Note: Chapter 2, Baby! I hope you guys enjoy it, and pls feel free to comment, reblog or leave a like if ya feel like it!

Kind of AU, contains both elements from real life and the Bo Rhap universe, so imagine whoever you prefer whether they be the real thing or the Bo Rhap Boys–be free.

Link to the Ao3 fic!

Chapter Playlist:

Chapter Two - That One Time When Fred Went Out for Coffee Or, Why Being a Young Entrepreneur is Harder than You Think

Kensington, 1969.

Out of breath and flushed pink, a young woman strode inside a musty little stall in Kensington Market, the shop bell giving a faint sort of ding upon her entrance. Freddie, who was quietly cataloguing their inventory in a faded blue balance book, smiled when he looked up to greet his friend.

“Wyn Clemens! You’ve come to visit me.” Fred said, ecstatically skipping his way to her from behind the counter before hugging her shoulders.

The girl made quick work of untangling the woolen scarf she had wrapped several times around her neck and mouth, placing that and her coat on the hook by the door.

“I swear I’ve gone up and down the place twice and both times I’ve managed to miss you entirely! Blimey, I didn’t think it was this small.” Her eyes scanned the darkened interior.

Currently their stall was nondescript, tucked away in between a carpet wholesaler and a shoe repair place, hidden away amongst the plethora of other stalls just like it. Cozy was one word for it, cramped was another, more accurate descriptor. Really, it was more of a booth. There they sold various garments and accessories to clothe the young bohemians, rockers, mods, punks, hippies and everyone in between who seemed to frequent the market there. Their shop was manned and looked after by Freddie and his friend Roger, and only by them, which was why, while their inventory was not exactly vast, it did quite literally seem to swallow the entire place in velvet, faux fur, leather, and brocade.

“Hey!” someone yelled in indignation, “This is a very fine establishment we run here, I’ll have you know!” A blonde head emerged from the back of the shop, a little area sectioned off by a dark curtain. It hid a tall, narrow mirror and served as both their stock room and fitting room.

The girl raised her eyebrows, feeling slightly sheepish at having offended this new person. “Wyn, this is Roger, the friend of mine I’ve been telling you about. He runs this dismal dispensary with me.” He said, not looking behind him as he gestured his head towards the blonde’s general direction. “Rog, this lovely creature you see before you is my new friend, Wyn.”

“Ah, the Ealing bird. Well, I suppose I could let that slight go for your pretty face. The name’s Roger Taylor, very nice to meet you, love.” He gave her his hand to shake, his lips upturned in a smirk.

“Careful there, Rog.” Freddie reminded him, which earned him a mischievous look from the blonde.

“Wyn,” the girl announced, unfazed by Roger’s cheesy smile, “I’ve come bearing gifts!”

“Ooh! Gimme! Gimme!” Freddie cried happily, his hands making grabbing motions all the while.

Wyn tutted at his antics shortly before presenting him a brown paper bag. “I thought it would cheer you up, while you’re stuck here.”

Freddie opened the bag and what he found there nearly brought him to tears. The bag was filled with fresh pastries still warm to the touch as he poked his nose inside and took a long whiff. He placed it on the counter before examining the goodies one by one, a hungry Roger joining his side. “You do care, Wyn! It’s just like Christmas! And here I thought everyone had forgotten about me. It feels like I haven’t seen the sunlight in days.”

“Weeks, really,” Roger added mournfully, before stuffing his mouth full of pastry. They had both been cooped inside their store trying to peddle their wares since the weekend and it was now Tuesday afternoon.

Freddie had a dramatic faraway look in his eye, his mouth shaped in a forlorn ‘O’ before finally snapping out of it. God, Wyn thought, he really should have been in theatre.

“C’mon then Wyn, tell us about all the changes in the outside world,” Fred was prattling away again, “Is dear old Liz still on the throne? How about Coronation Street, is it still playing? And what about tie-dye? Are people still wearing tie-dye?”

There was a quiet moan of “Oh Jesus, that’s the spot.” that came from Roger as he polished off an apricot danish.

Wyn gave the two of them a fond chuckle, trying to ignore the ridiculous sounds of ecstasy from the blonde as he delved into a croissant. “Let’s see,” the girl gave a pause for dramatic effect, “Yes, God forbid anyone else who’s set their eyes on that chair. Everybody knows Coronation Street is for ever. And it brings me to tears just thinking about it, but yes, unfortunately, the tie-dye lives on.”

“I knew it! It’s useless, Rog.” Freddie shouted, calling Roger’s attention. “Just bury me in these fur stoles. Even if they’re not real at least I’ll be kept warm and they haven’t assaulted anyone’s retinas.��� He had trudged over to a rack of miscellaneous animal coats and stoles and buried his face in them. His further rant became muffled and unintelligible as he cried into the mass of faux fur.

“How long has he been like this?” The girl turned to the blonde with a worried look.

“On and off since Saturday,” he informed her, brushing stray crumbs from his mouth. “We’ve hardly sold anything.”

“This is no good, come on Fred. You just sit down, I’ll go out and grab us a couple of coffees and come straight back.”

Freddie perked up upon hearing this and was almost back to his usual spirits. “I have an idea, can I go get the coffees instead, darling? I want to go outside, I want to hear the birds chirping and smell that London smog. Maybe that old lady from the fruit and veg stall could yell at me, that would really get me going.”

“Alright Fred,” she said with a comforting smile, pouring into his open palm a handful of coins. “Happy hunting.”

Freddie had taken off so fast he had forgotten to bring his jacket which he left still hung up on the door.

“That’s probably the happiest I’ve seen him all weekend,” Roger said, wistful.

“If he’s happy, then I’ve done my job.”

Wyn had started to look the clothing racks, her fingers stroking the garments in fascination. She also took out two or three items she had liked, inspecting them fully before shaking her head and putting them away, Roger meanwhile stood beside her giving his opinion on them. Soon he was entertaining her by spinning little yarns about several pieces, how they acquired them, whom they were worn by, all made up but increasingly fantastic.

“You looking for anything in particular, love?”

“Not really, whatever catches my fancy, I suppose.”

“How about now,” he said as he had stood in front of her, hands on his waist and a twinkle in his eye, “Do I catch your fancy?”

“I’m in the market for clothes today, Roger, not a boyfriend.”

“Who said anything about a boyfriend?”

“Uh-huh. Maybe some other time, Taylor.”

“Alright, alright.” he said, pacifying her. “Something to wear then. Something that will work for your figure?”

“I’d never be opposed to looking good.”

Roger was still flirting with her, but he also appeared to have a clear focus now, he was a man on a mission to find her something she could be persuaded into buying. “Do you like wearing patterns?”

“I’d give it a go.”

“How about colour?”

“Love them.”

“Any you’re partial to?”

“Every colour of the rainbow!”

Roger scoffed playfully in exasperation, she really was no help, but he enjoyed her company. “I think I have just the thing for you,” Rog said with a snap of his fingers before darting behind their makeshift stock room/ fitting area. He came back about a minute later with a frock on a plastic hanger.

What he presented her with was a white and green houndstooth dress in the mod style which had a black peter-pan collar and a short mini-skirt. Wyn let out a pleased hum, “I like the way you think, Taylor.”

Roger barked a laugh though he seemed to glow in praise, “That might be the first time a woman has said that to me.” He reached into his pocket and fished out a packet of smokes and a lighter. “Go on, then. Try it on.” He urged her, pushing her behind the curtain and sticking a cigarette between his lips.

Roger sported a boyish charm, all buoyancy and pent-up energy. Wyn thought it was ironic the way that he was blessed with the looks of a cherub by Raphael, yet flirted like a devil. It was little wonder Freddie had warned her about him when the topic of his friends came into conversation. Before she could wrestle the corduroy off her legs Roger’s hand had slipped in between the partition, throwing a pair of shoes at her.

“Black gogos? Oh, you really must be out to get me. I’m going to freeze out there.”

“You’re just fitting them on!” The voice behind the curtain replied. “You don’t have to wear them out…You don’t have to wear anything at all.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Just saying.”

A couple of minutes later she stepped out from behind the curtains, smoothing down the dress where it wrinkled a bit in her midsection. “What do you think?” she asked, striking a pose.

Roger took another large puff from his half-finished cigarette before putting it down on the ashtray on the counter. He began to sing lowly as he drew near to her, “Is there anybody going to listen to my story, all about the girl who came to stay?” There was another cheesy grin on his face as he took Wyn’s hand abruptly and led her into an impromptu slow-dance. “She’s the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry. Still, you don’t regret a single day. Ah, girl,” he sung as he spun her.

Wyn smiled, “I’m going to take that answer as a ‘yes’, but I wouldn’t know how I’d wear it though, my hair…”

“You could wear it swept back, or up.” Roger suggested, now extremely close. He removed his left hand from her hip and used it to gather her thick hair up and away from her face, fingers grazing the back of her neck.

Wyn cleared her throat, her cheeks and neck heating. “You think Fred will let me have this for cheap if I asked nicely?”

“I think if you asked nicely, he’d let you have the whole shop.”

“It’s probably costing him more to run it at this point.”

“Us both.”

The two broke out into a fit of laughter, not even acknowledging the customer who had just walked into the shop.

“Okay, Rubber Soul. So these are the kinds of guerilla tactics you’d stoop to for a sale?” Blushing furiously, Wyn pushed away from him when they finished their dance, choosing to hoist herself up onto the counter next to her bag of sweets.

“Only the best service to our most important clientele.” he said through half-lidded eyes.

“How much for this?” a voice said from behind them.

Roger groaned in annoyance having forgotten the presence of this third person. It was a shame Fred still hadn’t come back, that way he could have dealt with this new nuisance while Roger turned his attention to the girl in front of him. Rog barely spared him a glance as the man held up the garment in question. “Seven pounds.”

Wyn watched the interaction with great amusement.

“Five quid.” the man tried to haggle.

“Seven.”

“This button’s loose, five and five pence.”

“Six if you leave here now.”

“You’re fleecing me.” the man whined handing Roger the money with reluctance.

“Actually, that’s crushed velvet.” said Roger with a cool, impassive grace, plucking his cigarette from the ashtray and taking a puff.

Slipping on his new jacket, the man set off grumbling, nearly bumping into Freddie who narrowly avoided him, carrying a tray of hot coffees in styro cups.

“Took you awhile Fred,” Roger called, leaning against the counter and smoking casually.

Freddie placed the coffees down on a bench by the window. “Roger,” he began slowly with a disgruntled look in his eye. “Was that man just now, wearing my coat?”

“Huh?” this alerted Roger somewhat, he had stopped what he was doing. His eyes grew large as he looked to Freddie and back down at the crumpled note and small coin in his palm.

“Rog, you absolute pillock, did you sell my coat?”

“...Fuck.”

As quick as a bolt Fred had crossed the room in two strides, snatched the money right out of Roger’s grasp and ran back out the door. Freddie ran after the man who bought his beloved jacket, shouting and swearing like a madman all the way.

At the end of the day, Wyn had felt so guilty she ended up paying for her things in full. She had no regrets though. Sure she was down a couple of pounds, but she had managed to get herself a great fitting dress, and a killer pair of boots, not to mention the favour of the infamous Roger Taylor -- a feat she hoped she had managed with all her dignity intact. Or at least she hoped.

[sunevial]

The Strings That Bind Us Together: A Needed Vacation

Chapter 3 of the Follower’s Sequel, set in @internetremix ‘s DMP universe. Featuring @miss-goggles​ character, Murder God! Hope you all enjoy!

Warm sunlight beat down on the white sand and crystal clear waters, making the air shimmer and sparkle in the midday sun. Palm trees lazily swayed in the wind, catching the incessant cheering of scantily clad volleyball players and passed out sunbathers. Anyone who wasn’t playing in the sand was holed up in the little tiki bar off to the side, the dark wooden paneling fitting the mood of the patrons trying to drown out their sorrows with alcohol, including a woman with short blonde hair nursing a glass of bourbon.

“Hello there dear, enjoying the vacation?” Old Priestess asked, walking behind the bar counter and grabbing a cocktail glass. Humming a little tune under her breath, she picked up a few bottles and poured the contents into a shaker. “And bourbon? Really? I was under the impression that hell would have to freeze over before you’d drink hard liquor.”

“I was just robbed of a long game and Vincent is being an ass and I know that bastard is planning something but I have no proof, I am a desperate woman Old Priestess,” Murder God said in something between an annoyed sigh and an honestly rather cute growl. She screamed in frustration and pushed the glass across the counter, planting her head into the polished wood. “It’s not like I can get drunk anyways.”

“What are you feeling, dearest? Death in the Afternoon, Spider’s Kiss, Devil’s Poison?”

“Which is most likely to not taste awful?”

“Spider’s Kiss it is then,” Old Priestess said with a chuckle, grabbing the chocolate syrup and melon liqueur.

“Please tell me Young Priest’s training went well, I need a piece of good news right about now,” Murder God mumbled, rubbing her temples with her perfectly manicured fingers. “Also, what in the actual hell are you wearing?”

“You’re the one that made the beach episode, love. I’m just fitting the theme” Old Priestess replied, sliding the drink across the counter and taking a sip of her own questionably tasting drink. Her normal long, flowing garments had been replaced with a simple flower patterned bathing suit, covered by a see through magenta sarong and light windbreaker. “But I think our newest colleague will be more than ready for the big day. He’s given us quite the enthusiastic showing.”

“Good,” Murder God said through gritted teeth, sitting back up and snatching the drink up. Tipping it back, she drank far more of the cocktail than she should’ve in one gulp. “At least that’s one less thing I need to worry about.” She set the glass down, now almost half empty and smelling very strongly of vodka. “Speaking of which, where is he? And the rest of them? Did you lose them again?”

“Dearie, I’m not that irresponsible. They’re further off down the beach with Nebbie,” Old Priestess said with a casual hand wave, motioning to a little cove through the window. In the distance, a large comically light blue whale was surfaced just off of the coast, the small forms of the Followers lounging in the distance. On the whale themself were Witch and Huntress, the former sporting a frilled purple bikini with orange flowers while the latter covered her simple black swimsuit with a gray t-shirt. Further in, Advisor was dangling his toes into the water with a red and white towel at his side, dressed in a dark purple swim shirt and dark red swim shorts. Lieutenant was seated next to Advisor, sporting just a simple pair of blue swim trunks that exposed a web of horizontal scars crossing his back. The only outlier was Young Priest, dressed just the same as always and reading a book under a large umbrella.

“Oh good, they’re with the void whale, that’s so much better,” Murder God mumbled, drinking more of her cocktail and sighing as she watched the shenanigans go down.

“Need me to take over for a bit again?” Old Priestess asked, pushing her glasses further up her nose and opening her eyes in little slits to let the summer sunlight dance within her irises. “I do love running them. Reminds me of the old days before of all of this fancy magic and reality breaking when it was just you and me and that little strip of land out in the woods.”

“No, no, I’m fine, just leave me here with my drink that does absolutely nothing for my mental state, which by the way, doesn’t taste completely like off-brand moonshine, so thanks for that,” Murder God replied, dragging her finger around the rim of the glass. Raising two fingers into the air, she motioned to a woman floating off in the corner, scribbling endlessly on long rolls of scrolls with her long brown hair brushed back out of her face. “How goes the scribing there, Bookkeeper? Get everything in already?”

The woman glanced over, her quill still scribbling even though her attention was on the bar and the two of them. As like everyone else stuck in this scenario, she was dressed to the theme, wearing an earthy dark green bikini. She wordlessly motioned to the several scrolls floating behind her, all wrapped up with a single red string and lightly colored gold. “There was…not much to record…” Bookkeeper said, her voice low and dripping like honey.

“Good, because it’s time for you to go and meet your newest colleague,” Murder God said with a little more of her normal sadistically cheerful voice. “I’m sure his story will make an excellent addition to your collection. It’s been a bit since we last added something to the Followers’ section of the library.”

“If that is your will…” Without another word, Bookkeeper bowed her head and floated towards the exit of the bar, grabbing her sunhat off of a peg and plopping it over her pointed ears.

“I suppose that’s my cue to leave as well,” Old Priestess said, walking out from behind the bar and heading for the little exit to the bar. As she passed by the little mini fridge, she grabbed a large picnic basket that definitely had not been resting there a minute ago. “Have a good rest of your day, dearest.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see the fanfiction about me and Vincent, we are having a talk about that.”

“Oh Bookkeeper, how lovely it is to see you again,” Old Priestess said, completely brushing past her rather annoyed friend boss and catching up with the floating woman in just two strides. “Tell me, sweet pea, how has it been holed up in the library?”

Bookkeeper just focused on the scroll in hand, not even slightly twitching her ears to indicate she was paying attention.

“We missed you at the summons, you know. Doing things out in the open is never as much fun without our scribe there watching,” Old Priestess continued, letting the warm sand run over her bare feet and toes. “You also missed game night, Uno, poker, me winning…”

A wall would’ve reacted more.

“You know, I hear there was even a small massacre at, well, what little is left of the first game site.”

At this, the corners of Bookkeeper’s mouth twitched into something resembling a smile. “I see…I will…have to consult the others for the events that transpired then,” she remarked, switching out her scroll and continuing to write, the feather dancing along the page with the grace of a hummingbird in flight. “And I heard the summons and met with Lieutenant…I was just too busy catching up on my records to leave for any significant stretch of time.”

“You really need to get out more,” Old Priestess replied, turning a bend in the coastline. As their steps and idle chatter drew them closer to the other Followers, a small flicker tore through the carefully sculpted trees and background shrubbery. Before Old Priestess had the means or the care to patch up the hole so rudely punched through the fabric of the void, a man fell through and landed with something between clumsiness and impeccable grace on the sand. He was scrawny, sickly even, though tall enough to dwarf even the Lieutenant. Like a visual representation of why mortals should not mess with the natural order, the right half of his body was picture of relative health while the left was, at best, showing more muscle and bone than flesh. The nurse scrubs she had remembered seeing him in last were gone, instead replaced by a dark red wetsuit.

“Oh-oh-oh-oh, hello-hello-hello Old-Old Priestess-Priestess, Bookkeeper-Bookkeeper,” the man stuttered as he picked himself up off the ground and brushed the sand off of his arms and out of his curly gray hair.

“Oh gods, not you,” Bookkeeper muttered, aggressively grabbing her new quill and pulling a red string out of her hat. With two quick knots, she tied up the finished scroll with a little bow and set it off to float along behind her.

“Hello there, Doctor, enjoy your stay in the void?” Old Priestess asked, continuing to tread along the coast.

“Yes-yes-yes, it-it was-was-was very en-enjoyable, very-very educational,” he replied, picking up his fallen medical bag and clearing his throat. “Also-also YOU ABANDONED ME THERE.”

“Yeah I did,” she replied with a smirk and a small laugh.

“WHY.”

“Builds character and keeps you from trying to help people you shouldn’t be,” she said. She shrugged her shoulders and let a wicked smile cross her face. Bookkeeper smirked a little at the statement before continuing her writing. “Also, I don’t know if you heard, but it saved you from the attempted coup, so you should really be thanking me.”

“So-so-so it seems-seems,” Doctor replied, rubbing his left arm and shuddering. “Did-Did you think-think I-I-I was going-going to find-find my way-way-way out and come-come back-back-back?”

“I mean, you do have the nickname of the Part Timer for a reason, my love,” Old Priestess said, giving him a pat on his good shoulder.

“This-this-this is true-true,” he replied. “Though-though I did-did hear the-the-the summons and-and the good-good news-news-news.”

“Ah, good, we’re headed to meet him right now. Such a jumpy little thing, so compassionate…not unlike you,” she said with a sigh. “By the way...“

“Yes-yes?”

Old Priestess reached into the picnic basket and pulled out the bloodspattered dress from just a few days ago, a perfectly round bullet hole in both the front and back of the knitted fabric. “Could you be a dear and fix my dress?”

The stutter dropped. “…did you get shot again?”

Old Priestess suddenly found the giant whale much more fascinating than the current conversation. “...Not on purpose.”

“You said that last time.”

“It’s not like I was trying to ruin a perfectly good dress, he’s the one who fired the gun,” she said, casually gesturing into the air and smiling.

The Doctor sighed and grabbed the stained clothing out of her hands, stuffing it into his medical bag and zipping it shut. “Fine-fine-fine, but this-this-this is the-the last-last-last time-time,” he replied, slipping back into the stutter.

“You’re an absolute doll,” she said, gently patting his cheek as they rounded the bend and came into view and earshot of the other Followers. She cleared her throat a little, letting the wind and the land remember how to carry the voice of a elder god who once controlled the elements like a sculptor shapes stone and clay. “Young Priest!”

The young redhead just about leapt into the umbrella over his head, scrambling to close the book and get to his feet. “Y-yes, Old Priestess?”

“Come over here, I want you to say hello to the last two of our merry little bunch. They were a little…preoccupied and couldn’t make it to game night,” Old Priestess said with a calm smile, holding up the picnic basket for everyone to see. “Oh, and get something to eat. I brought sandwiches for everyone.”

“Aw sweet! Lunch time!” Huntress said, jumping off of the back of the monstrous whale and swimming back to shore.

Old Priestess set down the basket on a nearby rock, watching the others all get up and walk over, giving their greetings to the remaining two Followers and catching up on events long since past. Bookkeeper and Advisor began comparing notes on the past couple of days, both of them engrossed in their respective reading materials while Young Priest looked on in something akin to mild confusion and curiosity. Huntress and Doctor shared a bottle of wine while he took out a needle and thread for the repair work. Lieutenant simply took Young Priest’s place under the umbrella, lying back and stretching his wings out. Taking three sandwiches and some various cutlery, Old Priestess walked over to join him and promptly sat down out of the sun. She took a napkin and wrapped the turkey sandwich up in a neat little package and set it off to the side. For later.

After all, Witch would probably want something when she got back.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Valentine’s Day Countdown: Day 9

Valentine’s Day Countdown Collection

Day 9 of my Valentine’s Day Fanfic Countdown. If you’re interested in seeing your story/ship get written by me, found out more here!

Without any further ado, here are the requests that made today’s cut:

1) Dad!Sam (x Reader) 2) Dad!Bucky x Reader

Anonymous said to green-eyeddragonfanfiction: Sam Wilson taking his daughter (his and the readers child) out for a Valentine’s Day Date because Reader has to work? I’ve seen a lot of cute posts lately about good dads being their child’s first love and how it sets a good example and I can totally see Sam doing this

Pairing: Dad!Sam (x Reader) Warnings: Mentions of PTSD Word Count: ~1,941 A/N: AU where EVERYONE LIVES THROUGH INFINITY WAR AND IS HAPPY Bunckle = Uncle Bucky

“Dad!”

Sam looked up from his mission debriefing as his daughter ran into the room with a bright smile on her face.

When (Y/N) had stated she wanted kids, Sam had been hesitant at first. He didn’t lead a normal life, exactly. Even without all the Avengers stuff, he was ex-military. There was stuff you brought back with you from war, and while Sam constantly tried to work through it, there were still some days where it kicked his ass.

But their daughter- a precocious, mischievous five year old by the name of Sara- turned out to be the light of his life (well, the other light of his life, after you, of course). He loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her tiny form swaddled up in soft blanket in the hospital.

“Hey, sparrow! How’s my favorite girl in the whole wide world?” he said as he scooped her up into his arms.

“It’s Valentine’s Day!” she said with a huge smile.

“It is Valentine’s Day! Did you ask someone at the preschool to be your Valentine?” Sam asked with a smile. He didn’t have to worry about handsy boys or manipulative girls until puberty, at least. Until then, he could let her give chocolates and candies to boys or girls she thought were cute.

Sara giggled. “It’s you, silly!” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, am I now?” Sam said with a laugh. Kids said the darndest things.

“Mhm!” she hummed.

“Alright, well what do you suppose we do today, then? Zoo? Aquarium? Smithsonian?” he asked playfully, knowing her answer already.

She gasped at the last option. “Smi-son-yan! I wanna see Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky!” she cheered excitedly.

Sam rolled his eye at the second name, but nodded along anyway. “And then we can pick up mom from work?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I love picking mommy up from work!” she said excitedly.

Sam chuckled and put her back on the ground. “Alright, sparrow. Go get your coat and then we’ll go.”

She ran up stairs, her laughter ringing out through the halls as she went. Sam chuckled at her exuberance. He gathered up his keys, wallet, and his two phones; one for his personal life and one for the Avengers.

“Daaaaad!” Sara called from upstairs. It didn’t sound urgent. Sam raised an eyebrow in question but hiked up the stairs and went into her room.

He saw the problem immediately. Her head was stuck in the confines of her sweater. She’d somehow managed to begin to shove her head in the sleeve, but couldn’t move anymore to get it out.

He bit back a laugh and walked over to her. “I got it, Sara,” he said reassuringly. With a gentle tug her head popped free. Sam tugged it down over her tiny frame and soothed her now-messy hair. “Ready to go?” he asked with a smile.

“Smi-son-yan!” she yelled in lieu of an answer.

Sam laughed and picked her up. He carried her down the stairs and out the door and locked it securely behind him. “Am I carryin’ you the whole way or are you gonna walk?” he asked with a smirk.

“Carry! Shoulders!” she said excitedly. She liked riding on his shoulders. It made her feel tall and let her see a lot more. She was a regular little bird, always wanting to be high up, just like her dad.

With a huff he hoisted her on top of his shoulders. She didn’t weight much, but she squirmed like the devil. “You know the rules. Hold on, now,” Sam said, trying to sound serious and failing because of the huge smile on his face. His huge hands wrapped securely around her ankles so that, in the event she lost her balance, she wouldn’t go crashing to the ground.

Two small hands placed themselves securely on his head. “Yes, papa.” A pause, then, “Uncle Bucky had more hair to hang on to,” she said. He could practically see the tiny frown on her face as she thought about it.

“Yeah, well, Bunckle needs a haircut,” Sam said dismissively.

“I like Bunckle’s hair! He lets me braid it!” Sara said excitedly.

Sam’s competitive streak flared up, but he tried to fight it. He and Bucky had worked past the worst of their rivalry. Bucky even babysat Sara whenever he and you had date nights. “But does he braid your hair as pretty as I do?” Sam asked playfully.

She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head to hard Sam could feel her entire body shake. “Nope!”

“Didn’t think so,” Sam said with a smirk.

The Smithsonian wasn’t that far from the house, so the walk wasn’t that bad. Driving would have been way more stressful, and Sam wasn’t an Avenger for nothing. Sara might have gotten tired by it if she had walked it, so Sam was almost glad he’d carried her on his shoulder the entire way there. Grumpy kids were the worst.

When she spotted the fountain and the huge grey face of the National Museum of American History, she squealed in excitement. “Put me down! Down down down! Please!” she said eagerly.

Sam laughed. “You gonna run off?” 

“No! Promise!” she said, though Sam was sure she’d forget that promise immediately.

He carefully picked her up off of his shoulders and set her down on the ground. Like he thought, she ran off towards the entrance immediately. As he jogged after her he reminisced fondly about the days when she couldn’t run.

He snatched her right as she was bout to go in the door and pulled her up into his arms.

“Wah! Daaad!” she said with a pout.

Sam ignored the accusing look and took a pamphlet from the greeter at the door. When the woman realized who she was looking at, her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in shock.

“Y-you- Um- Thank you for- for everything,” she stuttered out. Sara looked from the greeter to Sam in confusion.

Sara didn’t know about Sam’s job yet. You said it’d give her a big head, just like her dad. Sam had tried to argue that second part, but ultimately he saw you were right.

“Just doin’ what I had to,” Sam said humbly, giving the greeter a small smile as he passed through the entrance with Sara in his arms. “Alright, sparrow. Where to first? Captain America exhibit or the First Ladies?” he asked.

“Uncle Steve!” she said excitedly. Sam smiled and set her down and she  raced off towards the Cap exhibit. She had a great sense of direction normally, but she’d been here to many times she knew the museum better than she probably knew their house. 

Sam walked languidly after her, always sure to keep her in sight. He turned the corner and was shocked to see the exhibit had expanded. The classic exhibit was still there, but it had been added to. Another room sported modern Captain America/Nomad facts and items. Bucky’s Memorial had been taken down and was replaced with a video screen, playing stories from Steve, Peggy, and the Barnes family about Bucky both before and after his “death” in the 40′s.

What shocked him the most, though, was the addition of a replica of his suit... as well as the painting of him behind it.

“Dad! Dad, that’s you!” Sara said excitedly and just a little too loudly as she pointed at the huge mural... because every head in the room turned to look at him. Everyone stopped talking, hissing in hushed whispers until, one by one, they broke out into applause.

Sam held a hand up in acknowledgement, mumbling thank you’s to the crowd, but all he could look at was his little girl, who looked so proud and excited he wanted to cry. She ran to him and he crouched down so he could catch her in his arms. The room aww’d as Sara crashed into him “I have the best dad in the world!” she declared proudly and loudly to the room, drawing laughs and smiles from everyone. Sam chuckled and lifted her up, throwing her in the air once before catching her again. She squealing in delight and the crowd laughed along with the two of them.

“C’mon, sparrow. We still got a lot of exhibits to see,” he said with a smile.

They walked out of the Smithsonian’s gift shop with kid-sized plastic Falcon wings (there had been a very large warning tag that said they wouldn’t actually let you fly, which made Sam laugh). She wore them the entire journey to your office building, making jet noises and pretending to fly through the air from on top of Sam’s shoulders as he ran down the street.

“Mission control to Falcon! Landing zone ahead!” Sam said, pretending to talk through an old school radio, making the static noises and everything.

“I hear ya, mizzin control! Comin’ in for a landing!” she said gleefully as Sam picked her up off of his shoulders and placed her dramatically on the ground.

“Mission control to Falcon! Destination reached successfully!” he said with a smile and held out his fist. Sara tapped it with her own tiny fist, giggling happily.

“What are you two doing?” came a voice from a few feet away.

Sam and Sara looked up to see you standing there, grinning at the two of them and weighed down by a huge briefcase.

“Mommy!” Sara squealed and ran to you, nearly knocking your feet out from under you as she wrapped her tiny arms around your legs with a surprising amount of strength.

“Hey, sparrow,” you said with a smile as you ran your brushed your fingers over her hair. When you noticed the tiny Falcon toy wings attached to her arms, you turned your glare on your husband, but he was already defusing the situation by ducking in to give you a kiss. He took the huge brief case from you and hefted it onto his shoulder.

You smiled into the kiss, but quickly remembered you were supposed to be mad. You broke away and glared at him. “Samuel Thomas Wilson. What are those?” you asked, pointing to the wings.

“Oh, we’re using the whole name, huh? That’s how it’s gonna be?” he asked playfully.

“Oooh, that’s how it’s gonna be,” you said as you crossed your arms. Sara was already distracted by running around, flapping her wings wildly as she waited for the adults to finish their conversation.

Sam laughed and pecked you on the cheek and your hard expression melted a bit. “They updated the Captain America exhibit... Guess who’s immortalized in wax, paint, and detailed costume recreations?” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh god, there’ll be no living with you now,” you joked good-naturedly.

Sam pretended to pout for a moment before smiling and leaning in to give you a loving, passionate kiss.

“Ewww, gross,” Sara said, dragging your attention from each other. You looked from Sara, then back at each other. You shared a knowing look and Sara seemed to sense she’d made a mistake because she giggle and turned to run away, but you and Sam scooped her up between you and placed a bunch of noisy, messy kisses to her face and head. “Nooo! Mommy! Papa!” she squealed happily, giggling loudly. Eventually the two of you let up, though Sara was still giggling happily.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my most favorite girls in the whole world,” Sam said, making both you and Sara smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Papa!”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sam.”

Anonymous said to green-eyeddragonfanfiction: Bucky x Reader where he lets you and your baby girl paint his arm and decorate it for Valentine’s Day because he knows how happy it’ll make you guys. ❤️❤️

Pairing: Dad!Bucky x Reader Warnings: Swearing Word Count: ~541 A/N: soft!boi. AU where EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND ALIVE AFTER IW

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

You’d gotten used to living with an ex-assassin, but as soon as you’d had a daughter together, you’d had to a make an adjustment in the opposite direction. Where silence once meant safety, it now meant danger.

You got up from your spot on the couch and began prowling the house. 

“Bucky...?” you asked warily, starting to get worried the longer it was quiet.

“In here,” came Bucky’s soft voice from your daughter Rebecca’s room.

You breathed out a sigh of relief and meandered your way to the doorway, freezing at the sight before you.

Rebecca was practically covered head-to-toe in paint splotches and Bucky’s left arm was pink.

Like, no really. Pink. Hot pink, rose, magenta, fuscia, bubblegum. Little hearts were painted all over in white (although it had mixed with the pink in some places). You were pretty sure you spotted a drawing of what was supposed to be the three of you together holding hands. Not a single inch was left of the shiny black metal you were used to seeing.

“What... what are you two doing?” you asked with a smile. You should be upset that they’d gotten paint everywhere, but it was just too damn adorable for the frown to stick. At least Bucky had had the foresight to tie their hair up.

“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise...” Bucky said guiltily, as though he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

“No looking, mama!” Rebecca said, waving a paintbrush at you angrily. You nearly winced as a huge drop of paint hit your nice wood floor.

Bucky saw the look and gave you a reassuring smile. “Washables, Doll. I may be 101 soon, but I still don’t feel like kicking the bucket yet,” he said with a wink, knowing full well you’d chew his ass out of they got real paint on your floors. “We’ll clean it up.”

You smiled at him and walked over and kneeled down next to them. “I’m just sad you two didn’t invite me! I’ve never painted your Papa’s arm before,” you said mischievously as you sent Rebecca a wink, which sent her into a fit of giggles. “Can I join you?” you asked Rebecca sweetly. Bucky beamed at the two of you.

“Yeah! You can start painting the flowers!” Rebecca said as she handed you a brush and a small tub of washable hot pink paint. 

You smiled and talked happily as the two of you painted away until Bucky’s arm was up to Rebecca’s exacting standards. You couldn’t help but acknowledge how far Bucky had come from when you first met him. Although you always saw the good man under the frosty shell, you were sure he couldn’t ever have imaged being where he was now back then. A wife, a kid, his arm painted pink with hearts, flowers, and vague stick people on Valentine’s Day.

“I love you,” he said to the two of you, making you both pause and look up at him. The tender look in his eyes made your heart flutter in your chest.

“Love you too, Da!” Rebecca said happily.

You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Love you too, Buck.”

[sirtravisjacksonoftexas]

Was Satan the Serpent in the Garden? UM, YES, and the Oaks of Mamre Will Show you Why…

 250,000 BC.

Studying the Mesopotamian midnight sky, Eve considered the constellations, smiling as she deciphered their shapes. One looked like a giant with his arms raised, another a lion. One resembled a fish, one a bear with a tail, and one that resembled…a serpent.

“The Serpent.” She said, her curly red hair caught in the air, covering her freckled face. Flicking her hair away, she turned, walking between two glistening white bushes, their red flowers larger than her head. Sniffing several, she enjoyed their citrus scent, resembling that of an open orange. Plucking one, she walked forwards, twirling around Adam as he tended to a dark tree. Admiring his overly muscular form, Eve raised an eyebrow and smirked. Turning away, she sniffed the red flower in her hands…then froze.

“Forbidden tree…” She whispered, her amber eyes wide.

The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was considered anathema in the Garden. Monkeys, including the huge howlers, never leaped onto its branches. Horned owls never perched on it, Tarsiers never climbed it. Even angels wouldn’t dare draw near it. It wasn’t really off-limits, and the only beings that were not allowed to eat its round, purple-skinned fruit were Adam and Eve, and yet…most kept their distance. Being caretakers of the Garden, Adam and Eve didn’t have that luxury. They had to tend its branches, water it. Thus, they were the only creatures who dared approach the tree.

They…and the serpent.

Cocking her head, Eve dropped the flower, then approached.

Studying the ground, she stepped over several of the tree’s crimson roots, many of which arched over the grass. Its bark was just as red, albeit a bit darker and more rugged in appearance. Golden sap bled from its bark, creating several pools on the ground that Eve hopped over. Its bright green leaves each bore seven points, all of which now and again generated a spark. Whenever the wind struck them, the leaves would speak words, many of which neither Adam nor Eve could understand. Eve recalled some of those words as she studied the leaves, which tonight were so far silent:

“Get the elephants on board! The rain is coming, Ham, the rain is coming…”

“I don’t care how many workers perish, I want that pyramid built…”

“Take the infants, offer them to Chemosh…”

“Eurystheus, why do you complain so much about your new wife? Just beat her into submission and be done with it…”

“The Plague…the Plague in Paris…”

“Burn, witch! Burn…

“Welcome to Auschwitz, everyone…”

“The second tower…has fallen…”

Shaking her head, eve turned to the nearest of its fruits.

“How can such a twisted, troubled tree bear such beautiful delights…”

The garden was suddenly filled with light. As Eve looked around, the ground shook, several trees snapping in the distance. A coarse, gravelly roar scattered ravens into the air, making Eve put her hands on her ears. As more and more trees snapped, she turned and looked to the north, seeing something rise above the bushes, its head twenty feet off the ground. Eve’s eyes went across its scales, which were darker than the night sky, darker than any shadow and yet…generated light. She noted its dark blue tongue, which reached ten feet when it flicked. It’s saber fangs stretched far below its mouth, dripping venom that generated flame. As it opened its crimson eyes, Eve smiled.

“I…I didn’t expect you awake at this hour…” Eve said, blinking as she put her hand on her chin.

“My child, other serpents sleep.” the serpent said, his voice deep, penetrating,

“I spend my nights plotting instead.”

“Plotting? What does “plotting” mean?” Eve said, failing to understand. Smirking, the serpent slithered around the tree, lowering his head until his eyes were level with hers. Suddenly, his tongue darted, less than an inch away from her ear.

“Oh, you’ve never heard of that word before, have you?.”

As Eve shook her head, the tip of the Serpent’s tail moved through her hair. Wrapping his tail around her, the serpent moved his head forwards, his mouth now an inch from hers.

“Why, plotting deals with secret plans, my dear, plans designed to…make things more interesting. It makes for great sport.”

“Wow! It sounds fun. Can you teach us?” Eve said, her voice enthusiastic as she nodded to Adam, who was oblivious to their conversation. The serpent laughed.

“Unbelievable. Yahweh…makes such funny creatures. My, of course I will teach you both.”

“When? Tonight?” Eve said.

“Soon.”

“What is the secret plan that you’ve been plot…plotting?”

The serpent laughed again.

“I can’t tell you, child. It’s a secret, for now.”

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

An eastern gust blew into the garden. Both Eve and the serpent turned to the tree, hearing its leaves speak. While Eve winced, the serpent smiled and closed his eyes, the voice of future human miseries making his body warm. Opening his eyes, he looked at one of the tree’s fruits.  

“Well…let’s just say that you’ll play an important part in it…”

#

The serpent is the original bad boy of the Bible, a critter that’s partially responsible for all the miseries and sins of the world. Though Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit and thus brought spiritual death into the world, they wouldn’t have done so if the serpent hadn’t tempted Eve. Indeed, when God questioned Adam about eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, he pointed the finger at Eve, who in turn pointed the finger at the Serpent (Genesis 3:1113)- who, of course, didn’t have a leg to stand on.

I know, it’s an old joke, but still a good one.

Incidentally, the serpent was the first judged by God after Eve spilled the beans. Eve was then judged, then Adam (Genesis 3:11-19). This makes an inverted parallel with was we see in Genesis 3:11-13.

Nevertheless, the sin of the serpent was of a far different nature than those of Adam and Eve: While Adam and Eve fell due to temptation, the serpent fell due to malicious intent. He had intended to tempt Adam and Eve, plotting both their spiritual downfall and the sorrow to follow. This makes his actions far more evil. Unlike Adam and Eve, he had planned his sin. Adam and Eve fell into the temptation of the moment, while the serpent had mentally worked his sin out. Is it really any wonder that, during the Second Temple Period (538 BC to 70 AD), Jews identified the serpent with the Devil? Indeed, even the first people who heard the story being read from the Torah, around the time of Moses (about 1400 BC), would have considered the serpent as more than just an animal: snakes don’t talk, let alone plot the spiritual downfall of mankind. And since when do animals get judged by God for sins, when they are not even born with a sinful nature, don’t know the concept of right and wrong, and just flat out are incapable of sin? How could the serpent sin when all other animals are incapable of it? Along with this, snakes have no limbs, and yet this one is punished by, among other things, being forced to crawl on its belly (Genesis 3:14). This seems to indicate that the serpent once had limbs. Josephus, the ancient Jewish Historian, stated that the serpent had feet, and that he was deprived of their use (possibly meaning that he lost them), and thus why he had to crawl on the ground from then on (See Josephus’ “Antiquities of the Jews”, 1.4.50 (Curiously,  Najash rionegrina, a prehistoric snake that lived 95 million years ago, had both hips and functioning hind legs. It was named after the Hebrew name for the Edenic Serpent (Nahash in Hebrew) due to the fact that it seemingly also had limbs. Several other prehistoric snakes likewise had limbs, but unlike others of its time, Najash lived on land).

Let’s face it: the Serpent of Eden was no mere snake. Indeed, the fact that it’s called “The Serpent” may indicate that it is The Serpent, the Serpent par-excellence, indicating that it is in some way unique among snakes.

In what way would it be unique? Is it just the fact that it could talk, that it had at least human intelligence and that it seemingly had limbs?

Or it is because its supernatural?

Both Revelation 12:9 and 20:2 spills the beans on who, and what, the Serpent really was:

“And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.” Revelation 12:9 (Emphasis mine).

“And he seized the dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years,” Revelation 20:2 (emphasis mine).

So, biblically speaking, the case is closed: the Serpent of Eden was actually…the Devil himself! 

Keep in mind, this interpretation has backing from extra-biblical Jewish religious texts of the Second Temple Period (538 BC-AD 70).

However, skeptics of the Bible (in particular skeptics of Christian interpretation of the Bible) will say “Not so fast! The context of Genesis 2 and 3 indicates that the Serpent is actually an animal, albeit a very unusual animal, and thus the New Testament is wrong!”

Why do they say this?

First, let’s look at Genesis 2:18-20:

“Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.” Now out of the ground the Lord God had formed every beast of the field and every bird of the heavens and brought them to the man to see what he would call them. And whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. The man gave names to all livestock and to the birds of the heavens and to every beast of the field. But for Adam there was not found a helper fit for him.” (emphasis mine).

Next, let’s look at Genesis 3:1:

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” (Emphasis mine)

Now let’s look at Genesis 3:14-15:

“The Lord God said to the serpent,

 “Because you have done this,

cursed are you above all livestock

   and above all beasts of the field;

on your belly you shall go,

   and dust you shall eat

   all the days of your life.

15 I will put enmity between you and the woman,

   and between your offspring[a] and her offspring;

he shall bruise your head,

   and you shall bruise his heel.” (emphasis mine)

In these passages, the Serpent is classed alongside the animals of the Garden, specifically in the “Beast of the Field” category. Given the context, it seems, at first glance, highly unlikely that the Serpent was originally intended to be seen as a spirit entity, let alone the Devil.

Thus, skeptics argue, the New Testament is wrong, therefore the Christian Bible is wrong, nah nah nah!

But…is it?

Um…NO, and here is why:

 1. THE EDENIC SIDEWINDER…

Many people in the world, including many, if not most, Christians, have the mistaken belief that only the New Testament identifies the Serpent as supernatural. However, the Old Testament likewise indicates that its supernatural. For starters, as previously mentioned, the serpent talks, which immediately indicates that something is not kosher in Denmark. The fact that it was seducing Eve to eat of the fruit, knowing that it would lead to her ruin and the fall of humanity, is another indicator that this is not some regular critter of the animal kingdom. However, there are other signs in the passage that shows that the Serpent is truly supernatural, signs that are lost in translation.

The Biblical Hebrew word for Serpent is “Nahash”. Nahash does indeed mean serpent, but it can all be used as the root word for both divination and deception (The Serpent is deceiving Eve…). It can also mean “The Shining One”. This latter point is interesting, considering that not only can snake scales shine in sunlight, but that supernatural beings, including Jesus, are at times depicted as radiating light (Exodus 13:21-22, 19:18, 24:17, 40:34-38, Isaiah 14:12 (remember this passage later), Ezekiel 1:7, Daniel 10:6, Habakkuk 3:3-4, Matthew 17:1-8, Luke 2:9-10, Acts 12:7, 26:13-15, Revelation 10:1, 18:1-2, 21:23-25, etc). Nahash is not simply meant to convey “serpent” here. In this passage, It’s a triple Entrende, conveying three meanings. It’s a deceiving serpent who happens to glow or shine.

Now, this sounds like a pretty freaky snake to a modern reader. However, it must be remembered that the Bible wasn’t written in the modern world, let alone the modern west. Instead, it was written in the ancient near east, and people from that time period would catch things in the scripture that most modern people would not. Indeed, when an ancient Israelite read this passage, a regular garden variety snake would not come to their mind.

A Seraphim, however, would.

Seraphim angels are among the most impressive supernatural beings found in scripture. In Isaiah chapter 6:1-13, Isaiah has a vision where he sees both God and several Seraphim. Each Seraphim angel had 6 wings and, seemingly at first glance, an otherwise human appearance, with hands and feet (Isaiah 6:2, 6). At first, these seems like a juiced-up version of the kind of angel we usually have in mind, human-like save for wings (in this case, 6 instead of the usual 2 that we normally think of).

However, these angels are even more remarkable when we consider the original Hebrew. The Hebrew word “Seraph” aka “saraf” (the singular form of “Seraphim”) means “He/it burns”, which brings to mind an angel that is radiating fire (which fits with other passages where supernatural being emit light). However, Seraph also means (drum roll)…

…snake.

Repeat: SNAKE!

Thus, the plural “Seraphim” can mean: SNAKES!

Something tells the that Indiana Jones wouldn’t like Heaven much… 

Oh, by the way: we actually have several ancient Israelite depictions of Seraphim, two of which depict scenes that are strikingly similar to what Isaiah describes in the sixth chapter of his book. One of these latter two was owned by Ashna, who was a courtier for King Ahaz of Judah. Isaiah actually prophesied to this king (Isaiah 7), and had close connections to his court (Isaiah 7-9). Now, keep in mind, Jerusalem during this period was a bit small. Perhaps not Martindale Texas small, but…small. And, funny thing, when it comes to small towns…everybody often knows everybody. They’re like the bar in the TV show “Cheers”: its “where everybody knows your name”. When you combine this with the fact that both Isaiah and Ashna knew the king, that Isaiah had connections with the king’s court, and that Ashna was a courtier…well, one can conclude that these two historical figures had met each other.

Why is all of this important?

Well, because the Seraphim are not depicted in any of these ancient artworks as winged humans.

They’re depicted as snakes.

In the vast majority of cases, winged snakes.

Now, this is striking on so many levels. I mean, angels appearing as…flying snakes? Makes one look at God’s throne room in a far different light! But what’s also striking is the fact that the Bible actually mentions flying snakes elsewhere. Indeed, it mentions fiery flying snakes (Isaiah 14:29, 30:6), something that some bible translations mistakenly don’t convey properly or, in some cases, get it 100% wrong (translations like the Amplified Version and the ESV have the correct rendering).

And what word do these passages use for “serpent”?

Seraph.

Now, remember, Seraph means both “snake” and “he/it burns”. Just as “Serpent” in Genesis 3 has three meanings, Seraphim has a dual meaning in Isaiah 6, conveying both fire and snake. Now, why are these two connected? Why would snakes and fire be associated with each other? Well, some snake venom (such as that of a cobra), can cause a “burning” sensation. Thus, it would make sense for Seraphim, which were depicted as serpentine, to likewise be associated with fire.

Curiously, Ashna’s depiction of Seraphim lack wings. This is at odds with most depictions, including another that, like Ashna’s, bears similarities with the vision in Isaiah 6. However, there is something else that’s curious about Ashna’s Seraphim. If you look at them closely, the area between their heads and lower bodies are very wide, wider than the rest of their bodies. Its almost as if this section of their bodies are…expanding.

Sounds so familiar…

As I mentioned earlier, cobra’s have a “fiery” venom. They also have skin flanges that can expand, making it look larger than it actually is. True, Cobras don’t have wings, but the things is, in the ancient world, a cobra’s skin flanges were called…wings.

Could this have been what Isaiah saw in his vision? Supernatural beings that took the form of flying cobras, each bearing six skin flanges, as well as hands and feet (perhaps even limbs)? Or did Ashna, upon hearing or reading this prophecy, take artistic license and depict the seraphim as supernatural cobras? Its interesting to note that the biblical seraphim share many similarities with the Uraeus Serpent of Egyptian myth. This mythic cobra war originally an eye of Ra. Ra took this eye out of his head and turned it into a goddess. Later, he put it on his crown and turned it into a cobra (which had characteristics of two real life cobra species). Though this cobra symbolized the goddess Wadjet (as well as kingship), both Sekhmet and Hathor were manifestations of this entity. Pharaohs had this serpent depicted on their crowns, and for good reason: Wadjet was a divine bodyguard of pharaohs, spitting fire at those that threatened them. This belief was held during the time when Pharaohs were thought to be manifestations of the God Ra. Thus, the Uraeus was also Ra’s protector. Now, this doesn’t mean that the Seraphim are purely imaginary beings inspired by the myth of the Uraeus. However, this Egyptian connection reveals the ancient near eastern historical and cultural context of the Isaiah Seraphim passages. The original readers and hearers of Isaiah chapter 6 would have seen these angels as serpentine throne guardians. Though God himself doesn’t actually need guards, he also doesn’t need humans to spread the gospel either, yet he uses them to do so.

The connection between serpents and the supernatural (including Seraphim) was noted in extra-biblical literature as well. In 1 Enoch, the terms “serpents” and “Seraphim” are used interchangeably. Likewise, The Visions of Amram, an ancient Aramaic text, describes a vision where the Prince of Darkness (i.e. Satan) appears…in serpentine form.

Cue Twilight Zone Music!

But what other evidence is there to show that the Serpent in the Garden was supernatural? What evidence actually links it to the Devil?

Read on…

 2. THE DEVIL YOU KNOW…

There are two passages in the Old Testament that have interesting parallels with both the story of the Serpent and the Serpentine Seraphim of Isaiah, passages that are, to this day, thought by some to describe the Devil himself.

Ezekiel 28:1-19, and Isaiah 14:3-23.

At first glance, these passages seem to be about God passing judgment on a prince of Tyre and a Babylon king, respectively. And, to be fair, this is true, but…both passages are borrowing imagery from a far older tale, a tale about a fallen supernatural being, in order to do so.

First, let’s look at Isaiah 14:3-23:

“When the Lord has given you rest from your pain and turmoil and the hard service with which you were made to serve, you will take up this taunt against the king of Babylon:

 “How the oppressor has ceased,

   the insolent fury ceased!

The Lord has broken the staff of the wicked,

   the scepter of rulers,

that struck the peoples in wrath

   with unceasing blows,

that ruled the nations in anger

   with unrelenting persecution.

The whole earth is at rest and quiet;

   they break forth into singing.

The cypresses rejoice at you,

   the cedars of Lebanon, saying,

‘Since you were laid low,

   no woodcutter comes up against us.’

Sheol beneath is stirred up

   to meet you when you come;

it rouses the shades to greet you,

   all who were leaders of the earth;

it raises from their thrones

   all who were kings of the nations.

All of them will answer

   and say to you:

‘You too have become as weak as we!

   You have become like us!’

Your pomp is brought down to Sheol,

   the sound of your harps;

maggots are laid as a bed beneath you,

   and worms are your covers.

 “How you are fallen from heaven,

   O Day Star, son of Dawn!

How you are cut down to the ground,

   you who laid the nations low!

You said in your heart,

   ‘I will ascend to heaven;

above the stars of God

   I will set my throne on high;

I will sit on the mount of assembly

   in the far reaches of the north;

I will ascend above the heights of the clouds;

   I will make myself like the Most High.’

But you are brought down to Sheol,

   to the far reaches of the pit.

Those who see you will stare at you

   and ponder over you:

‘Is this the man who made the earth tremble,

   who shook kingdoms,

who made the world like a desert

   and overthrew its cities,

   who did not let his prisoners go home?’

All the kings of the nations lie in glory,

   each in his own tomb;[c]

but you are cast out, away from your grave,

   like a loathed branch,

clothed with the slain, those pierced by the sword,

   who go down to the stones of the pit,

   like a dead body trampled underfoot.

You will not be joined with them in burial,

   because you have destroyed your land,

   you have slain your people.

 “May the offspring of evildoers

   nevermore be named!

Prepare slaughter for his sons

   because of the guilt of their fathers,

lest they rise and possess the earth,

   and fill the face of the world with cities.”

  “I will rise up against them,” declares the Lord of hosts, “and will cut off from Babylon name and remnant, descendants and posterity,” declares the Lord. “And I will make it a possession of the hedgehog, and pools of water, and I will sweep it with the broom of destruction,” declares the Lord of hosts.”

You’ll notice that the being that the King of Babylon is being compared to is called “Daystar” in verse 12 (“Lucifer” in the King James Version). This is indicative of light, of radiating light or glowing, just like many other supernatural beings in scripture. Keep this in mind as we now look at Ezekiel 28:1-19:

“The word of the Lord came to me: “Son of man, say to the prince of Tyre, Thus says the Lord God:

 “Because your heart is proud,

   and you have said, ‘I am a god,

I sit in the seat of the gods,

   in the heart of the seas,’

yet you are but a man, and no god,

   though you make your heart like the heart of a god—

you are indeed wiser than Daniel;

   no secret is hidden from you;

by your wisdom and your understanding

   you have made wealth for yourself,

and have gathered gold and silver

   into your treasuries;

by your great wisdom in your trade

   you have increased your wealth,

   and your heart has become proud in your wealth—

therefore thus says the Lord God:

Because you make your heart

   like the heart of a god,

therefore, behold, I will bring foreigners upon you,

   the most ruthless of the nations;

and they shall draw their swords against the beauty of your wisdom

   and defile your splendor.

They shall thrust you down into the pit,

   and you shall die the death of the slain

   in the heart of the seas.

Will you still say, ‘I am a god,’

   in the presence of those who kill you,

though you are but a man, and no god,

   in the hands of those who slay you?

You shall die the death of the uncircumcised

   by the hand of foreigners;

   for I have spoken, declares the Lord God.”

 A Lament over the King of Tyre

Moreover, the word of the Lord came to me: “Son of man, raise a lamentation over the king of Tyre, and say to him, Thus says the Lord God:

 “You were the signet of perfection,

   full of wisdom and perfect in beauty.

You were in Eden, the garden of God;

   every precious stone was your covering,

sardius, topaz, and diamond,

   beryl, onyx, and jasper,

sapphire, emerald, and carbuncle;

   and crafted in gold were your settings

   and your engravings.

On the day that you were created

   they were prepared.

You were an anointed guardian cherub.

   I placed you; you were on the holy mountain of God;

   in the midst of the stones of fire you walked.

You were blameless in your ways

   from the day you were created,

   till unrighteousness was found in you.

In the abundance of your trade

   you were filled with violence in your midst, and you sinned;

so I cast you as a profane thing from the mountain of God,

   and I destroyed you, O guardian cherub,

   from the midst of the stones of fire.

Your heart was proud because of your beauty;

   you corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendor.

I cast you to the ground;

   I exposed you before kings,

   to feast their eyes on you.

By the multitude of your iniquities,

   in the unrighteousness of your trade

   you profaned your sanctuaries;

so I brought fire out from your midst;

   it consumed you,

and I turned you to ashes on the earth

   in the sight of all who saw you.

All who know you among the peoples

   are appalled at you;

you have come to a dreadful end

   and shall be no more forever.”

Now, both of these passages in Isaiah and Ezekiel are obviously using the story of a fallen supernatural being to describe royals who sinned against God. Indeed, in Ezekiel’s passage, the Prince of Tyre is compared to a cherub, and Cherubim were supernatural entities (more on them later). Now, many bible scholars try to pass these two passages off as Adam himself, but…he just doesn’t fit with them. Among other things, Adam was a mortal man, not a Cherubim, and his job in the garden entailed keeping said garden, not acting as a divine throne guardian. Though he was tempted to eat the forbidden fruit, in order to become like “gods” (Hebrew Elohim, generally meaning a being from the spirit realm), knowing good and evil, he didn’t want to become higher than the stars of God (the Lord’s divine council). The passages fit better with a supernatural being instead of Adam.

But what kind of being was it?

Recall that Ezekiel 28:14 states that the being it is discussing is a cherub. Many people think of Cherubs or Cherubim as little babies or toddlers with wings, similar to depictions of the Roman God Cupid. However, the Biblical cherubim were anything but winged toddlers. Indeed, they not only pulled God’s chariot and guarded the Tree of Life, they were also divine throne guardians, creatures of vast power that were depicted in hybrid forms. The “living creatures” of Ezekiel 1 (Identified as Cherubim in Ezekiel 10:15) each had four faces (human, eagle, bull and lion), four wings, calves’ hooves for feet, and human hands under their wings (Ezekiel 1:1-14). In Ezekiel 10:14, the face of a bull is replaced with the face of a “Cherub”, perhaps implying that one of its faces was actually four faces in and of itself, human, bull, lion and eagle. Pagans in the ancient near east likewise knew of the Cherubim (Kuribu, an Akkadian word for throne guardian, is the source of the Hebrew word for Cherub), and they depicted them in various hybrid forms.

And…what was one of those forms?

A snake dragon.

Now, despite this similarity, there seems to be a problem: Ezekiel 28:14 states that this rebel being is a Cherubim, not a Seraphim. These are two kinds of angelic beings, right? They can’t actually be the same thing, right?

Wrong!

While Seraphims are a kind of angel, “Cherubim” represents a job that an angel can have. Its not indicative of a kind of a supernatural being, only a role that a supernatural being can attain. One might compare the position of Cherubim to that of a palace guard or secret service agent. Thus, the occupation was open to all kinds of angelic beings, including…Seraphim, which share serpentine imagery with some depictions of Cherubim.

The serpent imagery grows even stronger when we consider Ezekiel 28:12:

“Son of man, raise a lamentation over the king of Tyre, and say to him, Thus says the Lord GOD: “You were the signet of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty.”

This passage has been…a bit of a pain in the butt to translate. The focus of this academic frustration is the term “signet of perfection” (in some translations “seal of perfection”). The Hebrew word used here for “signet” or “seal” (Chatham or Hotem)is…a bit of an odd fit in the passage. However, this conundrum could be solved if the last letter in this word, the Hebrew equivalent of an “m”…is silent. This actually occurs on rare occasions in ancient Semitic texts, with a “m” at the end of a word being rendered a silent letter. This doesn’t happen most of the time when an m is at the end of a word, but it was occasionally so. If this is what is intended in Ezekiel 28:12, if the last letter of hotem is meant to be silent…then the word takes on a far different meaning. You see, if the M is silent, then the word changes to “hwt”, which doesn’t mean “signet” or “seal”.  

It means…snake.

Indeed, its another Hebrew word for snake.

Though we cannot prove with certainty that the “m” at the end of Hotem in this passage is meant to be silent, such a rendering would cure the headaches that this passage causes translators (as well as better fit the Edenic imagery in the passage). It would fix all the issues.

Interesting stuff for sure, but…are we really sure that the fallen rebel of Ezekiel 28 is the same as the fallen rebel of Isaiah 14? Can we really be sure that both have a connection to the Serpent in the Garden of Eden?

Well, let’s look at how these passages (along with Isaiah 6) compare:

1. All four chapters are in a Divine Council setting (Eden was thought to be a place where the Divine Council, composed of God and some angelic beings, were thought to meet).

2. All have inhuman intelligent beings talking.

3. While the Serpent is called “crafty” in Genesis 3:1, the Cherub in Ezekiel 28 is called “wise” (verse 12. Serpents were symbolic of wisdom in the ancient world (Matthew 10:16).

4. The Seraphim in Isaiah 6 are depicted as “fiery” (possibly indicating radiance). The Serpent is “The Shining One”. The rebel being in Isaiah 14 is called “Day-star” and “son of Dawn (verse 12), both of which connote shining light. The rebel in Ezekiel 28 is said to be covered in multiple precious stones (which of course shine. These could also be metaphorical for scales).

5. Ezekiel 28:13-14 identifies the Garden of Eden with a Mountain. This fits the ancient near eastern context; in that age and region, gods were thought to live in either gardens or mountains. The rebel in Isaiah 14 talks about sitting on the “mount of assembly” in the far north (Isaiah 14:13). Eden was thought to have been where the Divine Council met on Earth.

6. The Rebel in Ezekiel 28 was brought to the ground and turned to ashes on the earth (verses 17-18. Keep in mind, the Hebrew word for ground here, “eres” can also mean Sheol, the Hebrew Underworld, which was thought to be below ground). The Rebel in Isaiah 14 was sent down to Sheol (verse 15). Isaiah 26:19 refers to the spirits of the dead as “dwelling in dust”. Job 17:16 likewise links Sheol and dust. Keep in mind, dust and ashes have some morphological similarities. Also keep in mind that ashes are of course linked with fire (the fiery nature of the Seraphim comes to mind). The Serpent in Eden was made to crawl on its belly (thus cast to Earth, which can also denote Sheol), and eat dust (dust was thought to have been cuisine for the spirits of the dead in the Underworld, as seen in the Epic of Gilgamesh).

7. Both the rebels in Ezekiel 28 and Isaiah 14 are noted for their pride, which came before their fall (Ezekiel 28:1, 17, Isaiah 14:13-16).

8. The Serpent, as well as the rebels of Ezekiel 28 and Isaiah 14, were humiliated (Perhaps, in the Serpent’s case, in more ways than one. Keep reading…).

Now, if anyone has read my anti-Jesus Mythicist articles, you’ll know that I often say that parallels, in and of themselves, are not indicative of one story or text borrowing from another. This is true, but in this case, we have evidence that both Ezekiel and Isaiah were writing down prophecies that drew imagery from the story of the Garden of Eden (Ezekiel 28:13 even mentions Eden!!!). The same Hebraic culture that gave us the story of the Serpent in Genesis also gave us the prophecies of Ezekiel 28 and Isaiah 14, and when we see these multiple connections with four passages (including serpentine imagery), along with their ancient near eastern historical and cultural background, we can conclude that the prophecies of Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28 are not only about the same fallen rebel being, but that both are harkening back to the story of the Garden of Eden, to a supernatural rebel that fell.

The only being that fits such a bill in the Genesis account…is the serpent.

Combined with evidence from the New Testament, second temple Jewish texts, and ancient depictions of Cherubim and Seraphim…we can finally understand the Satanic candidacy for the identity of the Serpent of Eden.

But, given this is the case, how can this be reconciled with passages like Genesis 2:19, 3:1 and 3:14, which together seem to indicate that the Serpent is an animal?

Read on…

 3. SUPERNATURAL...OR NATURAL?

One way people have tried to reconcile these two factors is by stating that the serpent was a real snake that was possessed by Satan. However, whenever Jesus encountered people that were possessed, he didn’t rebuke the person who was possessed; he rebuked the demons who were within the person (Mark 5:1-20, Luke 4:33-36, 9:37-43, etc). Why would God judge a snake, instead of the demon that possessed it? Others may say that it was a real (albeit HIGHLY unusual) snake that, like Judas, was influenced by the Devil to carry out his deed. The Bible states that Satan “entered” Judas (Luke 22:3, John 13:27). This need not be interpreted as literally demonic possession. Instead, it could be figurative, the Devil influencing Judas to betray Christ (Jesus already noted that Judas as “a devil” (John 6:70-71). Indeed, before the Devil had “entered” Judas, he had put the idea of betraying Christ in Judas’ heart (John 13:2, compare a similar passage about Ananias in Acts 5:3). Thus, Satan was encouraging, tempting Judas to take the bait, and at one moment during the last supper…he gave in to the Devil’s prodding. Likewise, the Serpent, according to this idea, likewise gave in to temptation. Indeed, one could imagine the Devil making him talk the way God made Balaam’s Donkey talk (Numbers 22:22-30). He could potentially do this without possessing the serpent, just as God made Balaam’s donkey talk without possessing him. However, Revelation 12:9 states that the Serpent WAS Satan, not simply a serpent that Satan empowered. Now, if one wants to argue that Judas was indeed possessed by Satan when the scripture states that he entered him, then one could argue that, while Judas was already committed to carrying out his deed, Satan later possessed him to join in on the “fun”. Is this what happened to the Serpent? Had he already decided to deceive Eve, only for Satan to later literally enter him, joining in the effort? Could both theories, in this regard, be true?

Well, if so, then we have to explain how a snake would have the intelligence to think such a course through, and how it could actually talk (Eve obviously wasn’t shocked that it could, implying that she had heard it talk before). Even if Satan had possessed the serpent before, making it talk to the point where Eve didn’t find it shocking, this wouldn’t explain the serpent plotting Adam and Eve’s ultimate demise before Satan entered him (remember, Judas plotted his betrayal of Christ before Satan entered him). This implies a superb intelligence that was in the serpent before this possession could happen. Thus, in order for this idea to work, we may have to invoke the existence of a cryptoterrestrial, an inhuman intelligent lifeform native to Earth. The late Mac Tonnies, an author and blogger, wrote about the subject in his book “The cryptoterrestrials: A Meditation on Indigenous Humanoids and the Aliens Among Us”.

 In it, he argued that supposed Extraterrestrials (like Greys and other aliens supposedly encountered by eyewitnesses) were not from other planets, but from Earth. In his view, such creatures would be non-human sentient species native to our own world. This concept is not really new, with many stories in folklore and myth telling about physical, intelligent creatures that are inhuman (such as cyclops, centaurs, trolls, dwarves, etc). Most, if not all fantasy books, and most Fantasy films, such as the Lord of the Rings trilogy, has the same basic concept (orcs, elves, hobbits, Ents, etc, all non-human intelligent species).

So…are we really going with the cryptoterrestrial hypothesis? Was there a species of sentient snake in the ancient world? Is it still around today, lurking in the shadows, undetected by modern science? It sounds like something out of a science fiction novel! I mean, can we get any weirder here?

Actually…we can!

You see, we could also perhaps invoke the idea that the serpent was a genetic mutant, a freak who was born with both an unusual brain and advanced vocal cords that enabled speech. Or we could invoke that God made a single snake with these features in the Garden.

However, I don’t think we don’t necessarily need to invoke mutants and cryptoterrestrials to figure out what the Serpent was.

We can simply use metaphor to do that.

Ben Stanhope, a biblical scholar, has stated that a double meaning is in view in the story of the serpent. Wordplay, rhetorical parallels and metaphor is in use, a “flesh and blood snake” being paralleled with the tempter’s (originally) noble, yet serpentine, nature.  Thus, we shouldn’t interpret the passage literally as referring to a flesh and blood snake. The context thus cannot be used to argue for the Serpent to be a flesh and blood animal.

This not only solves the issues with Revelation 12:9, it also solves the issue of Genesis 2:19, where it talks of animals being made out of the ground, harkening back to Genesis 1:24-25 (it would be highly unlikely for all the animals in the garden to actually be angels in disguise. Indeed, at least some angels were created before the creation week of Genesis 1 began (compare Genesis 1:1-2 with Job 38:4-11, note especially verses 8-11). Indeed, being made from the ground or dust can convey mortality, thus being made out of the mortal world or realm, something with doesn’t jive with supernatural beings who live forever.

However, there is another, intriguing way that the supernatural interpretation of the Serpent with Genesis 2:19 can be reconciled, a way that could shed light on the Serpent’s motivation.

Keep reading…

 4. THE OAKS OF MAMRE.

Although God is spirit (John 4:24), and although angels are spirits, there are at times in the Bible where both appear in physical form. God and two of his angels met up with Abraham near the Oaks of Mamre (Genesis 18:1-2). When Abraham saw them, he immediately knew that one of them was God, laying in prostrate and praying to him (Genesis 18:2-3). God and his angels enjoyed Abraham’s hospitality, who gave them bread, beef, curds, milk and water, the latter to wash their feet with (Genesis 18:4-8).

Now…did you catch something funny going on here?

God, and two angels…are not only eating and drinking…they are washing their own feet.

How can spirits eat?

How can they wash their feet, when they are pure spirit beings, not physical?

Course, God, being omnipotent, could do these things, as well as enable lesser spirits to do them, but, keep in mind, one reason why Jesus ate in front of his disciples after the resurrection is to prove that he wasn’t a spirit (Luke 24:36-43). Indeed, one way God could enable spirits to eat and wash their feet is if he created temporary bodies for them to inhabit.

Later, the two angels went to Sodom, where Lot showed them hospitality as well, and once again they…ate (Genesis 19:3). Indeed, they seem to have physical hands, which they used to grab and pull Lot inside his home as an angry crowd stood outside, wanting to rape the angels (Genesis 19:4-10). Later, they use these same hands to drag Lot, his wife and their two daughters out of Sodom (Genesis 19:15-16).

There were other episodes in the Old Testament were God himself took on a physical form. He appeared to Minoah and his wife, the parents of Samson, before the latter was even conceived (Judges 13). Likewise, he wrestled with Jacob in Genesis 32:22-30. We know that the being that Jacob wrestled with was God because of what Jacob said in verse 30:

“So Jacob called the name of the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.”

Now, at first, this seems to contradict Hosea 12:4, which states that Jacob wrestled an angel. However, the “angel” in Hosea 12:4 is no mere angel, but a mysterious being known in other parts of the bible as the “Angel of the Lord”. While the term can refer to a regular angel, it also can refer to God in physical form. In the story of Minoah, the Angel of the Lord was the one who visited them. After Minoah made a burnt offering, their unusual guest rose up into the flames (Judges 13:20).

We read something very startling in verses 21-23:

“The angel of the Lord appeared no more to Manoah and to his wife. Then Manoah knew that he was the angel of the Lord. And Manoah said to his wife, “We shall surely die, for we have seen God.” But his wife said to him, “If the Lord had meant to kill us, he would not have accepted a burnt offering and a grain offering at our hands, or shown us all these things, or now announced to us such things as these.” (emphasis mine).

Now, compare this to Jacob, who called the site of his wrestling match with God “Peniel”, for he had seen the face of God…and lived. God told Moses that none could see his face and live (33:20), but that seemingly meant seeing the full spiritual face of God, not the face of a human body that God made to walk among men in.

Kind of makes you think about Jesus, how he was God in the flesh, and none died seeing his face…

…Um…you connecting the dots here…?

Oh, and by the way: remember that passage in Hosea 12:4? The context of that passage is very enlightening:

“The LORD has an indictment against Judah and will punish Jacob according to his ways; he will repay him according to his deeds. In the womb he took his brother by the heel, and in his manhood he strove with God.” (Emphasis mine).

He strove with God…in his manhood?

Just like it says in Genesis 32:30?

Get out of town!

Thus, God took on human form now and again in the Old Testament. Case closed, no problem.

However, when it comes to angels taking on physical bodies…some see a problem.

Remember when I mentioned Jesus eating fish before his disciples, so that they could believe? He also told them to touch and feel his resurrected body, noting that spirits don’t have flesh and bones (verse 39). To be fair, the disciples thought that they were seeing a ghost, not an angel, but along with this, Jesus ate a fish, to further show that he wasn’t a spirit.

Angels, in the stories of Sodom and the Oaks of Mamre, could eat. They appeared in physical form…

Thus, this opens up the door to the accusation that Jesus wasn’t really before the disciples, but a demon in disguise who was trying to lead them astray. If all angels, including demons, can make and inhabit a physical body, then the proofs Jesus made for his resurrection, that he himself has risen from the dead…mean nothing.

However, this is not an issue if we not only consider that only God and God alone is the creator (angels can’t create living tissue. None are gods, let alone creator gods), but that God can create bodies for angels to inhabit. Angels can’t do it on their own; they need God to make the bodies for them. And why would God do demons any favors by making bodies for them? Thus, there is no conflict between stories of angels in human bodies in Genesis, and Jesus saying in the Gospel of Luke that spirits don’t have flesh and blood bodies.

So, if a spirit wants to take on physical form, they have two choices:

1. Possess people (Without God’s aid to make a body for them, how else would demons take physical shape?).

2. Have a body created by God.

And if God can create human bodies for angels to inhabit…why couldn’t he make animal bodies for them to inhabit?

Recall how Seraphim and Cherubim took on hybrid forms? Though they merely appeared as such while in supernatural form, is it too much of a stretch of the imagination that God might, if he desired, give them animal bodies to inhabit? Perhaps even hybrid bodies?

Could the Devil, before the Fall, have been given a physical body by God to inhabit?

A…serpent’s body?

And if so…for what reason?

Perhaps…punishment for sinful pride.

Recall that in both Ezekiel 28 and Isaiah 14, Satan’s pride is noted. Let’s look closely at the verses that mention this:

“Son of man, say to the prince of Tyre, Thus says the Lord GOD: “Because your heart is proud, and you have said, ‘I am a god, I sit in the seat of the gods, in the heart of the seas,’ yet you are but a man, and no god, though you make your heart like the heart of a god” Ezekiel 28:2 (remember, the prince of Tyre is being described in the imagery of Satan’s fall).

“Your heart was proud because of your beauty; you corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendor. I cast you to the ground; I exposed you before kings, to feast their eyes on you.” Ezekiel 28:17

“You said in your heart,

   ‘I will ascend to heaven;

above the stars of God

   I will set my throne on high;

I will sit on the mount of assembly

   in the far reaches of the north;

14 I will ascend above the heights of the clouds;

   I will make myself like the Most High.” Isaiah 14:13-14

In the latter passage, Satan wanted to be above the “stars of God” (angels were at times called “stars” in the Bible (Revelation 12:3-4). He wanted a high throne, wanting to sit on the mount of assembly (the meeting place of the Divine Council, which at this time was in the Garden of Eden, located on a mountain). He also wanted to make himself like the “Most High”, like God himself. This indicates both unleashed pride and unrestricted ambition. He not only wanted on the divine council, he wanted to have equal standing with God. Now, surprisingly, I wouldn’t be shocked if God allowed Satan to work his way to the divine council, despite his sinful reasons for wanting on it. After all, Jesus allowed Judas into his movement, knowing that he was figuratively speaking “a devil” (John 6:70-71). Indeed, Judas, who was in charge of Jesus’ ministry money, would take some of that money for himself (John 12:6). Obvious Jesus, being omniscient, would have known this, but he’s not shown as confronting Judas about it. Still, Judas probably cringed every time Jesus brought up sin, both in sermons and in lessons to his disciples, feeling condemnation for his wickedness from the Son of God, who all-to-well knew of his dark secret. Likewise, I could see God not condemning Satan’s pride right off the bat, perhaps even allowing him to join the Divine Council despite his growing wicked nature. However…God very well could have eventually called him out on it, indeed perhaps punishing him for his sin.

And what better way to punish the pride of Lucifer…than making him inhabit the body of a lowly snake, one specifically created by God for him? 

Keep in mind, animals were brought before Adam, who named them (Genesis 2:19). If there is no metaphor in his description, then the Serpent would have had to be one of these animals. This is key to understanding his actions, for in the ancient world, if a person named someone or something, it indicated that he had ownership and rule over that person or thing. When Nebuchadnezzar first conquered Judah, (before he invaded a second time, destroying Jerusalem in 586 BC), he replaced King Jehoiachin with his uncle Mattaniah, renaming him Zedekiah (2 Kings 24:17). This implied that King “Zedekiah” was under the authority of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon. It was a way to show who was really top dog. Zedekiah was a vassal king, Nebuchadnezzar was his emperor. Likewise, if Adam, a mortal man lower than the angels…had named the serpent, it would imply that he had dominion over the serpent, just as he had dominion over every other animal.

If this is what truly happened, then the serpent’s actions start to make sense. If Satan, a being that wanted to be on the Divine Council, who eventually got there, who wanted to be higher than all the other Bene Elohim, who wanted to be equal with God…was made lower than a flesh and blood human being, who had nowhere near as much power or intelligence as he did…well, of course that would tick him off! Have you ever had your parents tell you that you had to obey your younger sibling while doing a chore, as a punishment? My father did this to my older brother, putting me in charge of an errand we were doing at an apartments complex. I…didn’t take advantage of my newfound power, not wanting my older brother to later pound me into a pancake, so I did my best to be kind. Thankfully, my brother didn’t get irate with me despite my nice attitude over the situation, but he was still steaming over it.

Now imagine how Satan would feel, if he was suddenly not only in the body of an animal, but made subject to a mere man?

Indeed, there is evidence to show that humans were likewise supposed to have been a part of the Divine Council, which likewise would have potentially made Satan scoff. I could just imagine him complaining about this: “Humans, these weak, pitiful things, on OUR divine council? What is God thinking? What could they possibly bring to our highly intelligent discussions? What kind of input could they possibly give? Why, eventually, with humans eventually breeding in great numbers, there could be countless humans on our council, perhaps one day outnumbering us! This can’t be allowed to pass…”

This humiliation, combined with humans intended by God to sit on the divine council along with angelic beings, could have motivated the Serpent into action. His pride was hurt, and the council that he sat on was, possibly in his view, threatened by the addition of what the incredible Hulk would call, “puny humans”.

How could his pride be healed?

How could he get revenge, at both mankind and God?

How could he “save” his beloved Divine Council?

Simple: cause Adam and Eve to fall.

Thus, the motive for the Serpent’s actions become quite clear.  

Indeed, this may even partially explain the underworld imagery, with the serpent being cast to the earth (possibly underworld) and made to “eat dust”; instead of simply being removed from the snake body, perhaps God literally killed it, giving Satan not only the death of a “lowly” physical creature, but then sending him (for a time) into Sheol, the Underworld.

Now, I’m not saying that this is exactly what happened; I’m simply proposing a theory. Indeed, the other theory that the Serpent is being compared to earthly snakes, and being grouped in the animal kingdom, is metaphorical is a strong possibility. However, the idea that Satan was made a lowly serpent, one that was submissive to humans, creatures which God intended to join the Divine Council…happens to fit the facts like a glove. It is revelatory when it comes to the Serpent’s motives. It gives a criminal motive for him, indeed more than one. 

Nevertheless, whether one accepts that the language of Genesis 3 for the Serpent is metaphorical, or whether one accepts that Satan was made to inhabit a snake’s body, either way, the biblical, cultural and historical evidence all point to the same conclusion; the Serpent in the Garden was…indeed…the Devil.

Hence, why the first messianic prophecy is found in its story.

 5. THE WOMAN’S SEED…

The relationship between Eve and the Serpent is a very complicated one. Not only did the Serpent approach Eve instead of Adam (Genesis 3:1), but, when God later interrogated Adam and Eve, the latter was the one who put the partial blame on the Serpent, saying that the serpent deceived her (Genesis 3:13). God judged the Serpent, then Eve, then Adam (Genesis 3:14-19). As I mentioned this before, this created an inverted parallel, with Adam blaming Eve, Eve blaming the Serpent, and yet…God judges the Serpent first, then Eve, then Adam. Taken together, we see three parts of this passage where Eve and the Serpent are closely associated.

However, if you look more closely, you’ll see a fourth:

“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” Genesis 3:15

This part of the Serpent’s sentence is very peculiar. Once again, he is paired with Eve, this time with a prophetic statement that shows that enmity will be not only between the Serpent and Eve, but between their offspring. When it comes to Satan, he has no biological offspring (unless he fathered some of the post-flood Nephilim without for some reason suffering the same fate as the angels who fathered them before the Flood (Compare Genesis 6:1-4 and Numbers 13:33. The angels who mated with mortal women and sired Nephilim offspring before the Flood are currently bound in chains in the Underworld, not free to roam like Lucifer (Jude 1:6, 1 Peter 3:19-20 (For more info on this, see sources section below on “the IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament”). However, humans who live lives of sin can be figuratively called Satan’s children (1 John 3:10), and, of course, demons who follow him could also be called, in this sense, his “offspring”. Thus, Eve’s “seed” isn’t just a reference to all mankind: it’s a reference to those who follow the Lord properly.

However, there is a deeper meaning here.

Did you notice that, though enmity will exist between the Serpent and Eve, and between his offspring and hers…that the Serpent himself will eventually clash with one of Eve’s offspring? Look at the passage again:

“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” Genesis 3:15

This is indicative of a future conflict between the Serpent and one of Eve’s offspring. One would have expected the Serpent to be shown in conflict with Eve, with both being listed as ultimate ancestors of offspring right before the combat or dual language in the verse. And yet…one of Eve’s offspring, a male descendant, will engage in battle with the Serpent.

Who would this descendant be?

Who would clash with the Devil?

Which descendant of Eve was killed by the Devil’s schemes…only to defeat the Devil in return?

Hmmm…

As I mentioned earlier, Satan put the idea of betraying Jesus in Judas’ heart, only to later enter said heart, reinforcing his resolve (John 13:2, 27 (see also Luke 22:3). Satan had gotten the ball rolling when it came to Jesus’ execution. He had planned it, set it up, strategized it, somehow knowing that Jesus wouldn’t resist. We don’t know what Satan was thinking exactly, but he thought he was about to win some battle of revenge against almighty God, that he was going to somehow bring about God’s defeat. He wouldn’t have thought that he could overthrow God or replace him on his throne, becoming the new God, but he must have had an idea that somehow, his plan would give himself some kind of triumph over the lord.

He thought wrong.

“Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.” Hebrews 2:14-15

Before Christ’s death and resurrection, the Devil held sway over humanity. Satan had guaranteed spiritual death for Adam, Eve and their descendants, ending humanity’s untarnished relationship with God, end our chance at eternal life (Genesis 3:14-24). But Jesus’ death and resurrection ended his spiritual stranglehold on humanity. It was the greatest backfire in history. Jesus indicated that this was coming before he was crucified, stating that a judgment was coming, and that “…now will the ruler of this world be cast out.” (John 12:31). This was the reason that he had come into the world (1 John 3:8), not to condemn the world, but to save the world (John 3:17). Though Paul called Satan the god of this world (2 Corinthians 4:4), and though John stated that the whole world was under Satan’s power (1 John 5:19), anyone who accepts Jesus as Lord and Savior can leave his authority, becoming a child of God instead of a child of darkness (Acts 28:16). God has freed us from Satan’s kingdom, making us citizens of Jesus’ everlasting kingdom (Colossians 1:13).

Thus, Satan caused Christ’s death…which lead to Satan’s downfall. Though his kingdom on earth still exists, it crumbles more and more everyday as the gospel continues to spread, as more and more people accept Christ as Lord and savior. The moment a person accepts Jesus into their heart, they defeat the Devil through Christ. Just as Jesus crushed the Serpent’s head at the cross and the empty tomb, we likewise crush the Serpent’s head when we accept Jesus into our hearts and lives.

This brings us to the second meaning on Genesis 3:15.

Paul makes a reference to this passage in Romans 16:20, adding a bit of a twist to it:

“The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.”

By Jesus, we can defeat the Devil. Through Jesus, we can overcome the Prince of Darkness. Greater is he that is in us than he that is in the world (1 John 4:4). Though the final defeat of the Devil is in the future, whenever we accept Jesus as our lord and savior, we likewise crush the Serpent’s head. We succeed where Adam and Eve failed, courtesy of Christ. Though Jesus, we can overcome the Devil, we can overcome the world.

Through Jesus, we have victory.

Sources:

“Supernatural” by Michael S. Heiser, 35-41, 124-136, 147-55, 163-67

“The Unseen World” by Michael S. Heiser, 44-55, 73-109, 183-93, 221-228

“Demons” by Michael S. Heiser, 59-145, 175-94

“The Way to Eternity: Egyptian Myth” by Fergus Fleming and Alan Lothian (Consultant: Dr. Joann Fletcher), 28, 103

“The IVP Bible Background Commentary: Old Testament” by John H. Walton, Victor H. Matthews and Mark W. Chavalas, 32, 33 (compare latter with 411).

“The IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament” (Second edition), by Craig S. Keener, 694, 721

“The Hebrew Bible: A Translation With Commentary (Volume 2: the Prophets)” by Robert Alter,641, 671

“The New Strong’s Expanded Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible: Red Letter Edition” by James Strong LL.D S.T.D., and John R. Kohlenberger, III, 776 and 789 of the concordance, 101 and 292 of the Hebrew and Aramaic Dictionary

“Josephus: the Complete Works”, translated by William Whiston, A.M., 34-35

https://mfa.gov.il/mfa/aboutisrael/history/pages/history-%20the%20second%20temple.aspx

https://www.bibleodyssey.org/en/tools/timeline-gallery/s/second-temple-judaism

https://www.newscientist.com/article/dn9020-oldest-snake-fossil-shows-a-bit-of-leg/

https://www.ualberta.ca/folio/2019/11/commentary--extraordinary-skull-fossil-reveals-secrets-of-snake-evolution.html#:~:text=Fossil%20history,where%20the%20fossils%20were%20discovered.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72T2bW8bkfA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BO13BSSjsYU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mw2LCTQHMUI&t=880s

https://biblehub.com/isaiah/30-6.htm

https://biblehub.com/isaiah/14-29.htm

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4925324/

[i-know-you-can]

Love to Hate You - Chapter 10

Summary: AU - There is something about the way she looks at him. The way her cheeks flush and her beautiful green eyes sparkle. Like she wants to wrap her hands around his neck and strangle him, but she thinks better of it. It amuses him like nothing else. No other woman has been able to fire him up like Betty Cooper. And yet he hates her.

Rated: T

Chapters: 10/11

A/N: I can’t believe that after 5 weeks this story is coming to an end. Especially since I’ve been working on it for months now. I hope the last proper chapter will be satisfying and enjoyable enough for you. I’ll be posting the epilogue tomorrow and hopefully some codas later on if you’re interested. Let me know what you think :)

Big thank you goes to everyone who is reading and supporting. It means a lot to me :)

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When Betty finally gets home from work her mind is still preoccupied with Jughead. The conversation with his sister definitely didn't help her and if anything, it only made her more curious about what actually went on in his head. He was excited to go out with her. So maybe Betty wasn't just imagining that he seemed to enjoy her company. But it made the sudden change in his behavior even weirder, confusing her further.

Deciding that she doesn't want to think about him at least until the next time she sees him, Betty changes into her pajamas and puts on a random old episode of Friends. She has seen the old sitcom like a million times, but it never fails to bring a smile to her face. A few minutes in, her cat Caramel joins her on the couch and she cradles her in her lap, wondering why she ever bothers trying to figure men out when life without them is so much easier. She's on her fifth episode of the evening when a loud knock on the door startles her, the sudden jerking motion making her cat dart from the couch and into her bedroom. Betty quickly releases her hair from the messy bun she's sporting and pulls on her unicorn patterned pajama top in hope of straightening out the wrinkles before giving up and hoping that whoever has the courage to interrupt her evening doesn't care about what she looks like.

She rushes to the door, for once not using the peep hole beforehand, something she later realizes was stupid as she lives alone and this is America where creeps are plentiful. She opens the door and her breath catches in her throat when she sees Jughead standing at her doorstep. Her eyes quickly scan him top to bottom and back, noting there is something different about him. It takes her a second to realize that he's not wearing his typical crown beanie and instead of that one stray curl that's usually the only bit of his hair that’s visible she's presented with a full head of shiny dark locks. For a second she's reminded of the moment from a couple of weeks ago when she had the chance to bury her hand in those curls and her throat goes dry. He really has the dark brooding look going for him. She’s biting her lip and trying not to stare at him for too long before realizing she still hasn't said a word to him.

“What are you doing here, Forsythe?” she asks, putting an emphasis on the name that he seems to hate so much. “And how do you even know where I live?”

Jughead cringes when he hears his real name leave her lips, but he supposes he deserves it. Actually, he's glad she hasn't spray painted it in their office by now. “I came to apologize.”

“Really?” She raises her eyebrows, wondering whether the conversation she had with his sister has anything to do with it.

“Is there a chance I could do it inside?” Jughead asks, his voice sounding surprisingly timid. “I uh... have a lot to say.”

Betty hesitates for a second, wondering whether she should close the door in his face just to let him know how it feels to be ignored. But she knows she's better than that so instead she takes a step back and opens the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. “I'm listening,” she prompts him and sits on the couch, assuming she may as well get comfortable while Jughead tries to explain himself.

“Can I?” Jughead points to the spot next to her and she nods. He carefully sits down and runs his hand through his ebony hair, looking nervous.  A breath catches in Betty’s throat as she watches the movement of his fingers and the room suddenly feels hotter. “What?” Jughead asks when he notices her stare. “Is there something on my face?”

“It's just... This is the first time I've seen you without that hat on,” she answers simply and hopes that the dim light of her living room does a good enough job to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. She’s mad at him, but that doesn’t make him any less attractive to her. A fact he doesn’t need to know.

“Did you think I would have a bald spot?” he asks with a grin, hoping to stall the conversation for at least a moment.  

“No. More like devil's horns or something,” she says, trying to hide her own grin.

Jughead chuckles and shakes his head. “It's more like a security blanket for me.”

“And you think you won't need it tonight?”

“It doesn't seem appropriate,” he says without explanation. On his way to Betty's apartment, he still has no idea where Jellybean got the address and he doesn't want to know, he tried to think of all the things he needs to tell her to make her understand the constant sudden changes in his behavior. However concise or long-winded he ends up making it, hiding behind the hat he's been wearing for a better part of his life just doesn't feel right. “What I'm about to say will make me sound like a complete idiot,” he continues. “Or like an asshole. Maybe both.”

“Nothing new then,” Betty says with a serious face and he chuckles again. He misses this. It has only been a couple of days and he's already craving Betty's snarky comments and feeble attempts to insult him. But he knows he has no one but himself to blame. The relationship between him and Betty was working perfectly for months. Only when he started to realize that what he felt for her wasn't actually hate he freaked out and things started tumbling down faster than a stack of dominoes.

“I don't wanna make excuses for myself. I know there are people who had it worse and don't act like complete dickheads to everyone around them. That one's on me.”

“Yep,” Betty pipes in and nods her head, waiting for him to continue.

“However I try to explain it, it always comes back to my childhood. And I know how it's gonna sound, but it's the truth. My mom left when I was twelve, basically telling me I had no future and wasn't worth sticking around for.  Mommy issues. It's such a cliché.” Jughead runs his hand through his hair again, suddenly missing the security of his crown beanie more than he has in years. He wonders why he ever thought he could live a normal successful life when his childhood sounds like such a textbook example of someone who has nothing but failure ahead of them. Sure, his life is much better than he could envision ten years ago, but there are some things that will stay with him and haunt him forever. The memories of his mother being one of them. “But that's what started it all. What made me feel like I had to hate you from the moment we met.”

Betty gulps and wonders whether Jughead changed his mind about apologizing to her and rather decided to tell her all the reasons that made him hate her. Not that she didn't try to create a list like that in the past on her own. One would think that her overly invested mother living in a different state than her would allow her to be less critical of herself, but old habits die hard. So every time something goes wrong in Betty’s life, she creates a mental list of things her mother would assume she did wrong.

“I know trust issues are such a stupid excuse. And it doesn't justify me being an asshole to you. Though you have put up a good fight.” He shoots her a quick grin before continuing. “I think I’m scared. Of getting hurt. Being rejected. For being myself. I don't trust people that are... People like you.”

“People like me?” Betty narrows her eyes, not sure what Jughead is insinuating.

“You know... So nice and friendly. So... perfect,” he spits out the last words as if it's an insult. Though, in Jughead's eyes, it may as well be as he usually tries to avoid these people. He’s been reminded many times throughout his life that he’s as far from being perfect as it gets. So it only feels natural for him to loathe everyone who sees themselves as such.

Perfect. If Jughead's old nickname is a trigger for him, then the word perfect definitely is one for Betty. “I'm not perfect,” she says through clenched teeth, grasping onto a throw pillow in effort to not curl her hands into fists. “I'm not trying to be perfect nor will I ever be. There is no such thing.”

“Isn't that what a person who tries to be perfect would say?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow.

“I let you in because you said you wanted to apologize, but if you just came to aggravate me, then you can leave. You've succeeded.” Betty folds her arms and tries to muster up her best glare, knowing that the unicorns on her pajamas probably don't help her in appearing serious. She wants to know what Jughead has to say for him, to hear his explanation for his behavior, but she’s starting to regret ever letting him in.

Jughead sighs and runs his hands across his face in frustration. This is definitely not going the way he intended. If anything, he seems to be getting further from what he wants. “I'm sorry, that's not why I came,” he says gently, worried that whatever comes out of his mouth next will only make the situation worse again. “The point is, I was scared to get close to you because you reminded me of people who hurt me. And I thought that if I tried to hurt you first you'd stay away and I'd be safe. But you're not like other people. You don't give up.” Jughead takes a deep breath and Betty wonders whether that's an insult in his eyes as well. “I'm so sorry for being such a dick to you. The other night and all the times before. I was scared of getting hurt so I tried to make myself hate you. And maybe I succeeded for a while. But you…” He shakes his head with laugh as he feels his cheeks growing red. The insecure part of him makes him want to avoid her gaze, to leave the apartment and never see her again. But he makes himself look up, the sparkle in Betty's green eyes giving him to boost of courage he so desperately needs. “You make me feel crazy. I tried to fight it, but you look at me, you smile at me and suddenly I don't hate you anymore. I...” The breath catches in his throat, knowing that whatever he's about to say or do will either help him or doom him for good and he doesn't know how he'll continue to live with either of those.

“What?” Betty raises her eyebrows expectantly. Her green eyes flicking between his stormy blue ones and his lips, as if knowing that whatever he’s about to do or say may turn her life upside down. But for once she’s not scared of that. In fact, she hopes he can break the perpetual monotony that is her life.

Jughead doesn't say anything for a second and then his right hand is on Betty's face while the other one is pulling her closer as his lips crash against hers. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but Jughead knows he will remember it until the day he dies. It's nothing like their first kiss, yet somehow the same. Full of passion and frustration but also care and love. This time instead of being surprised by his feelings and hiding them from her as well as himself, he wants to show them to her. Show don’t tell. One of the most common pieces of advice that writers get. So he tries to apply it. Jughead Jones may be a good writer, but he’s lost for words when it comes to voicing how he really feels. And Betty makes him even more speechless. So he hopes that his kiss is better at doing that job. “I think I may actually like you. Very much,” he whispers when they pull apart, giving Betty the most sincere look he can. Jughead knows he can’t expect her to reciprocate his feelings. Or to even forgive him. But he tried. So even if she hits him, kicks him out of her apartment and never talks to him again, at least he’ll know he tried.

Betty stares at him silently for a moment, gasping for air, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Just a few seconds ago he was telling her how he tried to hurt her on purpose. Trying to keep her away from him. And now he’s saying he likes her. Probably hoping that can erase every mean thing he has ever said to her. “I hate you,” Betty whispers and Jughead is pretty sure someone has just kicked him in the gut. He laid himself bare, opening his heart to someone for the first time in years and she stamped on it. Maybe some things don’t change. “I hate that no matter what you say or do it only makes me want you more. In fact, I think I may actually like you too,” she says and her mouth turns into a soft smile and before Jughead even has a chance to react, her arms wrap around his neck and she pulls his lips to hers once again. Her hand instinctively moves to his hair, relishing the feeling of his soft locks beneath her fingers, eternally grateful he decided to forgo his beanie for once.

Jughead sneaks his arms around her waist and pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. As his tongue sinks into her mouth she lets out a low moan, her body buzzing with excitement. It feels like another one of her dreams, except better. So much better.

“You couldn’t have worded it any other way, could you?” he mutters against her lips, unable to hide the grin that is now spread across his face. Their foreheads are pressed together, faces flushed and chests rising heavily, both trying to comprehend what just happened and what it may mean.

“And let you off the hook so easily? C’mon, I’m better than that.” She laughs, her body vibrating in his arms and he swears he has never heard a sweeter sound. “Now kiss me before I have a chance to change my mind.” She smirks at him and Jughead complies happily, pulling her into his lap. Maybe he is an asshole. Maybe he isn’t. Betty is not an angel either. But she has all the time in the world to figure him out and this time he’ll let her.