#i am collapsed on my couch now. hope i will be awake for friend visit easter dinner stuff

[naomiknight-17]

I am a grown adult

[chocolateheart]

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tag list is open! :)

If something is not working, you weren’t on the tag list even if you wanted to, you can’t send an ask or you didn’t receive the notification about me tagging you in any of my fics, please contact me in DM’s.

Tag list: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns​ @polina-93 @teresa-67 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @mrspeacem1nusone @flamencodiva @cutiecowgirl @waywardbaby @flashxspn @lyarr24

[erismerald]

𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 (Jacob Frye x reader) 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 2

Hello creed, I bring you here the second chapter of my Jacob Frye fanfic, I hope you like it and maybe I would like to remind you that my requests are always open in case someone is interested!

Without further ado, stay safe, and happy reading!

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Fluff and a bit of teasing ;)

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3953

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝟏𝟖𝟔𝟖

Your head hurt a little, and your vision was blurred, you felt moving but you were still, you looked around, the environment you were in was different from the wet and scary street, with a little more effort, you tried to look for details that would help you identify where you were, you were on a train. ... but how? the room you were in was well decorated, you knew that style well, your nanny was doing her best to decorate every part of the house with the rustic and elegant theme of the Victorian era, so none of that had been a dream?

You sat up in bed, feeling your body weakened, you took a deep breath and gained strength to pull yourself together, the clothes you were wearing were different, it was a nightgown, made of cotton, all black with gold details on the sleeves, after all you had really traveled in time. ... but how was that possible, one moment you were with your friends and the next you were alone in the world, flash all the memories of last night had burst into your mind, the dark street, the rain... the man who tried to abuse you, and your savior, who was he? was it him that brought you here? doubts hovered empty in your consciousness, you looked at your wrists small black marks tinged your skin, you felt pain when the palm of your fingers ventured to touch them, without realizing it you let out a 'auch', you couldn't control the fear you felt, you were alone. You wanted your grandmother by your side to calm you down, you grabbed your knees and pulled them up to your chest, and laid your head down lightly letting the tears run down your face, feeling them fall on your hands, you felt small, you felt abandoned.

Suddenly the bedroom door opened revealing a woman, still quite young she must have been in her early twenties, she smiled sweetly at you, no matter how hard you tried to hide under the blanket, that smile warmed your heart and made you smile back.

"I see you're awake at last" She approached with a tray of food that she set down on top of the couch where you were lying "My name is-" she was interrupted by a man, you recognized him, he had been the one to save you, your heart pounded hard when your gaze met.

"Ahhh finally, I'll be able to sleep in my room again" he laughed sitting down in the armchair opposite you, you bowed your head in shame

"Jacob! The girl just woke up, and you're already being a real jerk, I can't believe you're my brother sometimes" The girl said turning her attention back to you " Dear ignore him, he's just a jerk, how do you feel?"

"I... I'm confused just... I feel sick and hot" your voice came out shaky, you were nervous.

"It's because of the fever the doctor said you would feel like this for a few days, but that you would be fine, what's your name?" The girl asked meekly, sitting down in front of you, your gaze shifted a little to the man sitting in front of you, he seemed asleep.

"M-my name is Y/n L/n" again your voice betrayed you, as you said your name the girl looked shocked but interested in you.

"Your family is a great help to our brotherhood, it is an honor to have you here with us!" The girl said with a gentle smile kissing her lips, a feeling of hope embraced your body, would there still be a way back home? But in a flash, you recalled what she had said.

"M-my family? how do you know them?" you asked pulling your body forward-facing the two people sitting in front of you.

"The L/N family has always been a great help in training young assassins" Assassins? What? you didn't want to believe what you heard, all the memories were joining the truth about your family, the story your grandmother told you and you preferred not to believe was really true? It wasn't possible, but why now? why now that you had decided to find out who you were? Why now that you have finally traveled to London? And who were the people in front of you? The girl stood up and stretched her hand towards you "My name is Evie Frye, and that idiot over there is my twin brother Jacob Frye" the words that came out of her lips were like glass tearing your mind, you felt dizzy as if you couldn't breathe right, was all that true? Wasn't it possible? Was it? But how did you end up in their time? Was your grandmother right, weren't they just children's stories?

"How is it possible?" you whispered, both brothers looked at you curiously, " No, it can't be real, I must be dreaming... "Your gaze was fixed on your hands resting on the thin cloth that covered your body, crystal clear tears came out of your eyes, Evie seeing your reaction to finding out who they were hugged your body and pulled you in, you hid your face to her shoulder, letting the sadness leave your heart.

A few minutes passed, but it seemed like hours, your body was still weak from crying, in 18 years of life you had never cried so much, you took a deep breath, hugging Evie's body tightly.

"I know very well who you are" you finally said, Evie knelt down beside the sofa looking puzzled at you.

"How do you know us, love?" Jacob said getting up from the armchair and staring at you, he was much taller than you, and you felt a little embarrassed to feel his gaze fixed on yours, in one small movement you looked away from Evie, you took a deep breath and gathered your courage to expose your whole story.

"My name is Y/n L/n but I am not from here... in fact until a few minutes ago I believed that you two were part of the stories my grandmother used to tell me when I was younger... "I know well who my family is, I just didn't know their true position in this brotherhood, my grandmother used to tell me stories of the Frye twins and the adventures of the assassins to free London from the grasp of the Templars, but I always believed that you were a lie, I am not from here, nor from this time and I honestly don't know how I got here," you said between sobs, raising one of your hands to your face wiping the tears that were falling "I don't even know why I came here, for one second I was in 2020 and the next I traveled back in time to here. .. BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY! I WAS JUST TRYING TO FIND OUT WHO I WAS, WHY DID I HAVE TO VISIT LONDON AND IGNORE ALL THE WARNINGS MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE ME? WHY DID SHE LET ME COME? DID SHE KNOW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?" Your crying turned into anger, you felt like your body was going to collapse, you felt dizzy, everything was becoming blurry but something broke your fall and held you tight, with the tremendous effort you looked up to see what had happened, the next thing you knew you were in Jacob's arms, he protected you from falling or passing out, you wanted to talk but all you could say was 'ahh' or 'I...'.

"Okay love I know it's a lot to process but you're not alone here, you have us now, we'll take care of you," Jacob said stroking your hair and holding you close to his body, the beating of his heart helped you calm down. "Now what do you mean 2020? We can tell you're not from here but did this happen? Evie?" Jacob called his sister's name they both looked at each other, and after a few seconds, Evie had an idea.

"Let's wait for you to recover so you can tell us everything straight so we can understand what's going on, but..." Evie stopped sighing "Until you can get back home we have to make you unnoticed, we have to make you mix with the people of our time, only then you will be safe, and since your family is a big influence here in London we can visit them and try to ask for help, what do you think?" Evie smiled at you and you smiled back, you felt your eyes grow tired, and without much effort, you fell asleep.

Your eyes opened slowly, it was hard to sleep with the storm of thoughts that rambled through your mind, occupying every neuron, it was still night, you looked at the clock on the desk, it was 4 am, still so early and you were already so awake, you couldn't deny that you felt anxious and nervous with what was happening, Your body moved from side to side on the sofa where you slept, the rain hit the glass loudly, the sound of the wheels on the rails, the wind whistled lulling your body, but you couldn't sleep anymore, the stress, the fear, the frustration of not being home, it was agonizing, you stared at the ceiling, thinking, those memories were still very fresh in your mind, it would take a while to accept.

With a little effort you pushed your body up, sitting down and crossing your legs, the window above your head was splashed with raindrops that slid with speed, the landscape was beautiful, the city lights in the background made your heart beat faster, Even in another epoch London was still London, still a beautiful, attractive city, without you realizing it, a weak smile broke out on your lips, it was ironic that you wanted to visit a place so much and when you did it was as if it vanished through your fingers.

You observed the room and noticed your bag lying on the side of the sofa, with one hand you pulled yourself towards you and took out your drawing notebook, you appreciated the picture sticked on the leather cover, it was your grandfather who had made it, he made a dozen of them just for you, every time the pages of one finished, another one came on the scene, with canvas for more adventures and emotions, since you were very young that writing and drawing were a way to represent your emotions and represent the world you lived in.

With a few gestures you let your hand flow across the white page, drawing and sketching empty emotions but full of comfort, looking on the bright side, when you return you will always have something to show your grandmother, a memory, the sound of the pencil scratching the sheet of paper, soothed your heart so full of bitterness, 'so this is what it's like to discover who I am? Is this what you wanted me to see grandma?' you thought to yourself, is this the destiny that was destined for you?

You sighed and let your hand fall on your thigh, you looked forward, and saw Jacob's coat resting on the back of the armchair in front of you, a wave of warmth and embarrassment invaded your chest, you felt strange every time you thought about him, he was mysterious but gentle and protective, when you felt his body wrap around yours it seemed that they had connected to each other, and all the negative energies and scary thoughts disappeared, your heartbeat as he did, your breath calmed down as you felt his fingers tangle in your hair to comfort you, without a second thought, you began to draw his face on that once white page, you remembered every detail of his face, the two scars, his unshaven beard, his hazel eyes, his lips. ... he was an attractive man, you would never in your life think of meeting him, but now that you know him, he was something you didn't want to forget, you put the notebook against your chest and smiled like a little child, feeling butterflies playing with your belly.

But something interrupted the moment, that moment when you were no longer present on earth, you were lost, hidden in a world of thoughts:

" Rough night?" A voice coming from behind you, scared every inch of your body, you put your hand on your chest letting the notebook fall to the floor, you recognized the owner behind that hoarse and funny voice, Jacob laughed a little "I didn't want to scare you, love, I just came to check if you were okay and since I saw you were awake I decided to come in" Jacob said sitting next to you, his gaze crossed with yours. "How are you feeling?"

"I-im okay, and don't worry you didn't scare me, I was just lost in my thoughts and didn't even see you coming...." you replied shakily, like a leaf in the middle of a storm, his smile was directed at you, you could feel your face getting warm, it was obvious you were nervous, but why?

Jacob sat in the armchair in front of you, he looked tired, but more importantly, he was completely flushed, your gaze was fixed on his body, his hair was dripping, his breathing was racing, your heart was beating unregulated as if you were in a sprint, your breathing became heavy for a few moments.

"Do you like what you see love?" Jacob teased, bending his body forward, you jumped a little when hearing his voice, and quickly looked the other way, the rain was still beating strongly on the window, but the train had stopped, maybe because of the bad weather? "I was just messing with you, I just came from a mission, and well... since you are sleeping in my room and my stuff is here, I came straight to you." He laughed a little, his laugh was wonderful.

Even not looking directly at him you could feel his smile, unbelievably you were feeling calm again, your breathing was quiet, but you felt Jacob's gaze on your body, something captivated him about you, but he still couldn't know what it was, maybe because you were exotic? Because you were new to him, his gaze was fixed on your neck, the necklace that belonged to him was now adorning your neck.

"I wanted to thank you, Mister Frye, thank you for saving me from that... you know, I wanted to thank you earlier but, I've been busy with my mind-" Suddenly you felt his fingers slip up your neck to your jawline turning your face to face his, his curious gaze was focused on the necklace, he smiled.

"How funny I have a necklace just like that hanging around my neck, matching aren't we" Again his laughter filled the room, you couldn't contain yourself, and a small giggle broke out from your lips "Oh you do laugh too, you have a very adorable laugh" Your face flared, a pink color graced your cheeks as you heard his voice, he was so close. ... his scent intoxicated you, as if you were drunk on his scent alone, you felt your eyes getting heavier, but something woke you up, a fallen drop of Jacob's hair fell on your cheek.

"Shouldn't you take off your wet clothes, or at least dry yourself? Mister Frye you might catch a cold" the words escaped from your lips, the concern was explicit on your face, Jacob found it adorable, but he laughed a little, confused you looked at him pouting, you were just trying to help and he still laughed.

"Darling, my clothes are all here and if you haven't noticed, you're here, it would be inappropriate to undress in front of such a delicate lady, besides I'm used to it, after missions I usually go to some pub to celebrate with my rooks but Evie asked me to keep an eye on you, and I didn't want to leave you alone either," Jacob said sitting back in the chair.

You blushed but nodded, he was right, it wouldn't be appropriate, but something wandered in your mind, he didn't want to leave you alone? Jacob's watchful eyes noticed your notebook lying on the floor, he reached out to pick it up, you felt a wave of embarrassment and shame hit you like a stone, no, a bunch of them.

His fingers slid across the pages looking at the drawings, especially the one you had done the day you arrived in London, he looked like a child watching a cartoon on TV, he was mesmerized.

"Ahm Mister Frye, may I ask you something?" you asked as he looked at your notebook, he nodded without saying a word. "What was this mission you went on?" his gaze was still focused on the drawings, but he took a deep breath and answered finally.

"Y/n you know what an Assassin does right?" He asked, you nodded, waiting for his answer to continue "I was assigned to kill templars and free London from the disgusting and profiteering clutches of theme, today I helped rescue some of my rooks who were taken hostage in the middle of one of their rounds when they warned me,

I ran immediately to save them, they are like a family

family, and I as their leader have to help and protect them.

His words were like melodies, he sounded just like the way your vein described, ruthless, brave, gentle and playful, fearless, you smiled, was it possible for a man like that to be true? Was it even possible that your childhood hero was right there in front of you watching your drawings? Was it really true that after many years of hearing about him, you were having a conversation with him? You felt so confident that for a few minutes you forgot that you were stuck in 1800.

"You are really brave Jacob..." Finally, you said, slowly removing the necklace from your neck and holding it between your fingers, circling it from side to side. "You know I spent years adoring you... wanting to be like you and Evie, my grandmother spent years telling me about your adventures, I remember when I was younger and climbing up on the roof, jumping from window to window pretending to be you, pretending to be with you, and well. ... years later here I am in front of you, talking to my idol, and I still don't know how to react to this situation" You laughed a little sarcastically. You were nervous but you knew you could trust him, when you looked ahead again his gaze went through every detail of the drawing you had made of him, he seemed excited.

"I thank you Y/n, for idolizing me when you were younger, it must come as a shock to you, finally meeting me hum?" He said with a tinny smirk on his lips.

"W-well it is but I think you can even exceed my expectations Mister Frye" You laughed nervously, you tried to avoid looking at him, you were afraid you wouldn't know how to react.

"How do you feel about your family belonging to the brotherhood?" He questioned you as he put your notebook down on the desk next to him, you sighed, honestly you didn't even know what to say, or what to think about it, of course, you knew for many years that your family came from a long line of assassins but, you preferred to believe that it was a lie or just another story invented by your grandmother to entertain your creative mind during the most starry nights, you never imagined that they were real, and you still thought that taking someone's life for the sake of a brotherhood or to protect others was wrong, and you didn't want to be associated with that, so you forgot that story, and went on with your life, but now that you knew that they were real, you were a little afraid to confront them.

"I... honestly I don't know how to answer you, when I was younger, I heard the stories told by my grandmother over and over again, but I never thought that they were real, and even when she talked about the brotherhood I... preferred to ignore it, in my view, it isn't right to kill someone, I thought that the assassins were cruel monsters who had no feelings, so I never really wanted to know that part of the story, but I confess that I am afraid to confront them tomorrow..." Jacob seemed to understand what you were feeling his eyes were downcast, you could hear his heavy breathing, you felt a little worried, would you said something wrong, but something surprised you when his gaze met yours you could see a little fear and sadness in his gaze.

"Do you think I'm a monster?" Jacob asked getting up and walking towards you again, you felt your body harden like a stone, your heart was beating uncontrollably, you couldn't think of anything to answer him, he knelt in front of you, still with his gaze fixed on yours, you couldn't even think, he was very close to you, his hand wrapped around yours and took the necklace you were holding between your fingers "Your grandmother gave you this didn't she? and by some fluke of life you came right to me... tell me Y/n even after I saved you, do you think I'm a monster?" His voice was husky, his touch made you sensitive, his smell made you dizzy, you are hypnotized.

"N-no, I don't think you're a monster, I... just didn't know much about.... I... and by some fluke of life you came right to me... tell me Y/n even after I saved you, do you think I'm a monster?" His voice was husky, his touch made you sensitive, his smell made you dizzy, you are hypnotized.

"N-no, I don't think you're a monster, I... just didn't know much about.... I..." Jacob's hand moved closer to your neck his fingers slid across your skin easily, you sighed deeply as you felt his skin in contact with yours, Jacob smiled, it was funny to see your submissive reaction to him, with a small gesture, he placed the necklace around your neck, caressing the back of it, but before he left, his breath-focused on your ear and with a whisper, he made your world crumble.

"Don't take this necklace off, so I'll always know why you're here"

He stood up and grabbed his coat, you were completely paralyzed, you were blushing, your breathing was heavy and panting, your gaze seemed glazed on him, he smiled and walked towards the door, but before disappearing into the darkness his voice echoed once again in the room "you better get some more rest Love tomorrow we have a long day, it was nice talking to you miss L/n". And with that he left you there alone, your heart pounding, panting, and nervous, your only thought was his voice softly caressing your ear.

You let your body fall back, staring at the window, and the rain sliding on it, you didn't realize that the train was moving again, you just let your mind wander, what would have happened if he stayed here?

Feelings and thoughts left you awake for the rest of the night, before you knew it the birds were already singing, the first rays of sunlight illuminated your smiling face.

[seriouslysnape]

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

I found this prompt and immediately had to come to you (you’re my favorite Snape writer ever)!

Maybe, if you want, write this with a student aged Snape, who has a horrible dream about his best friend he’s secretly in love with, and so he sneaks into the girls’ dormitory and tells her this. (You can leave the house unnamed or something the reader can fill in.) And then they go into the common room together and sit in front of fireplace and talk it out to get him relaxed and a lot of romantic fluff follows!

SO you woke up today and chose hella fluff, huh? YOU GOT IT.

Also, thank you! You’re too sweet! :)

__

Night Fright

Young Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,750

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

__

His eyes snapped open in an instant, his lungs involuntarily taking a sharp inhale. It took him a second to identify where he was, or even what time it was. He eventually realized he was in his dorm room, and it was an ungodly late hour. His breathing became ragged and heavy as he tried to regain himself, reminding himself that he was safe in the comfort of his room.

He tried to slow his breathing, not wanting to wake up his roommates, who were all snoozing peacefully. He wiped at the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead, ultimately pushing his hair from sticking to his clammy skin. His skinny legs were trembling something awful, and his fingers were so tingly that he could barely move them.

He sat up in his bed, taking another gander around his dorm. A sigh of relief flowed from his chest as it resonated with him once more that he was okay. Even more so, that you were okay. He had bad dreams before, but nothing like this. It had been so graphic and so real, he was sure that it had actually happened. It was even worse that you had been in it.

He tossed back the covers on his bed, swinging his feet over the side, and standing up. He knew you were fine, but he wanted to be absolutely sure. He would feel better if he actually saw you and heard your voice. He threw on a t-shirt, not bothering with pants since his boxers were enough and no one would really see him. He caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall saying it was half past 2:00 AM. He groaned to himself, annoyed that his sleep had been so abruptly interrupted.

He tip-toed past his roommates, creeping out of his dorm as quietly as possible. Thankfully, Severus had always been rather light on his feet. He knew what he was doing was totally against the rules. If he was caught sneaking into your dormitory, he’d definitely be punished or maybe even suspended until further notice. Severus grumbled at the thought of him getting in trouble for doing something that James Potter and his friends did all the time and were never scolded for.

His heart still felt like it would burst out of his chest, but his breathing had slowed to a more normal rate. The hallways were eerily quiet, the only sounds were his bare feet shuffling on the hard floors. He was glad no one was out, because he was sure that he looked like a wreck.

As he came closer to your dorm room, he wondered if you were still up. You had always been a bit of a night owl, so there was a possibility you were awake. However, it was the end of the week, so you were probably sleeping it off. He still had this feeling of paranoia that something was wrong.

He managed to shield his face from any portraits, although most of them were asleep anyways. He said a silent prayer that you were okay. He made it to your dorm, suddenly feeling kind of weird for entering a room with a bunch of sleeping girls. Much to his relief though, you were curled up in bed, sound asleep. He let out an exhale as he saw your chest rise and fall with each steady breath.

“She’s okay, Severus…she’s fine.” He whispered to himself, resting a hand on his still heavy beating chest.

He crept around your roommates’ things until he was in your space. He checked to make sure that no one had followed him before resting a hand on your shoulder, shaking gently.

“[Y/N], wake up.” He whispered quietly.

You let out a rather loud disgruntled groan, annoyed that someone was trying to wake you up. Severus winced, hoping you wouldn’t wake anyone up. You stirred for a moment, but collapsed back into your pillow.

He fought the urge to laugh, and shook you a little harder this time.

“Come on. [Y/N], wake up please.” He whispered again.

Your eyes actually peeked open this time, peering at him with an irritated look. Your aggravation didn’t last long. You immediately noticed that something was up with him. Mainly because he had never snuck into your dorm without telling you first, and also because he looked about 50 shades of terrible.

“Sev?” You murmured groggily, rubbing your eyes as you sat up from your mattress; “What are you doing here?”

He bit the inside of his cheek in thought. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit that he had come all the way up here just to check on you. That seemed a little weird, and maybe even protective. Not that you minded Severus going out of his way to see you, but he wasn’t sure how kindly you’d take to him breaking in.

“I...just needed to see you.” He half-lied.

You quirked a curious brow at that. This was odd behavior, even for him. One of your roommates turned over with a creak, causing Severus to jump. You laughed under your breath, throwing back the covers of your bed and putting on a jacket.

“Come on. Let’s go to the common room so we can talk.” You said persuading him out of your room.

“Are you sure? You can go back to bed, I just...came by.” He replied, blushing hard when you took his hand into yours.

You noted how his hands were still shaking. His skin that was usually cold was flushed warm. Something had rattled him to his core.

“Yeah, I’m sure. She’s not a pretty sight when she doesn’t get her beauty sleep.” You said, referring to one of your roommates who was dead to the world.

You both snickered as you guided him down the staircase into your House’s common room. There was already a roaring fire, likely from whoever was the last person to turn in for the night. You and Severus settled on the couch in front of it, soaking in the warmth that the fire was emitting. Severus had grown quiet now, his eyes dead set on his fiddling hands in his lap.

You looked over him. He was notably tired. His hair was a disheveled mess from where he didn’t even bother to brush it, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his eyelids weighed heavy. Something was bothering him.

“Did something happen?” You asked at a more comfortable volume than before, but your tone was still light.

He figured that you ought to know the real reason for his surprise visit. No matter how much he liked you, he would probably never slink into your bedside “just to see you”. He sighed, averting his gaze to you.

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He confessed, feeling a little silly about it.

His words really tugged at your heartstrings. You had been best friends with him for years, and every day he seemed to care more and more about you. You let out a soft, sympathetic noise and scooted a little closer to him.

“You’re so sweet, Sev. I’m okay,” You assured him, resting a hand on his knee; “Do you want to talk about it?”

He felt a lot better after seeing you, feeling you, and hearing you. He was always so afraid of something happening to you. You were always the best part of his day.

“It was one of those dreams where I knew I was dreaming, but it still felt real. I was standing with you out by the lake, and then this...thing showed up and grabbed you,” He explained, his eyes opening a little wider; “Next thing I knew, you were gone and all I could hear was you screaming. I was scared. I didn’t know what happened to you, or where you went, or if I’d ever see you again...”

His pulse had quickened as he recalled the ghastly details of his dream. He just hoped he’d be able to sleep again after that. You felt horrible for him. You threw your arms around him, wrapping him in a hug. He slowly returned the embrace, burying his nose in your shirt, smelling your familiar scent. You never wanted him to worry about you.

“I’m so lucky to have someone who cares like you do,” You confessed, kissing his cheek and causing him to blush once more; “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He was tempted to bring a hand to his cheek where you had just left a kiss. He wanted to savor the feeling forever. You refused to let him go, still hugging him until you knew he felt better.

“That’s why I was so scared. If something had happened to you...oh, I don’t know what I would do.” Severus proclaimed.

Now it was your turn to blush. You pulled back from the hug, but still kept your arms wrapped around his shoulders, his hands somehow found their way to your waist, but your head was so focused on what he was saying that you didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you saying you can’t live without me?” You wondered, really hoping that this was his way of admitting his feelings for you.

You wanted this. He just had to say one little word and you were his forever. Severus didn’t say anything for a moment, and you internally cursed him for getting shy on you now. But he did, eventually, reply as clearly as ever.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” He said; “I love you. A million times over I’ll tell you that I love you.”

You were stunned, overwhelmed, and thrilled all at the same time. Leave it to Severus Snape to profess his love for you at almost 3 o’clock in the morning. But you didn’t care that you were missing out on precious sleep. This was way better than that.

“Oh, Severus...” You breathed, surging forward and kissing him.

He felt as if time stopped. The stars had perfectly aligned in his favor for once. The girl he was willing to bear his heart to was kissing him as if he were the only other person in the world. He was undeniably happy in this moment. You were with him, you were safe, you were perfect, and you loved him back.

That was all he’d ever want.

[sirisuorionblack]

The doctor (part 2)

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary - When a 25-year-old single father Cedric Diggory was woken up by his daughter to get shots he knew something was going to happen but not in the slightest bit did he know he was going to find new love. (Muggle AU)

Warnings - none

Part 1 Part 2

Convincing (Y/N) took quite a time, but Cedric managed to do it along with the help of Charlotte.

"Cedric, I really don't think this is a good idea," (Y/N) said anxiously as she swung a bag over her shoulder and carried one of her luggage while Cedric carried the rest.

"You think so?" Cedric asked and nudged his daughter, "Tell her, princess, she thinks this is a bad idea,"

"I am not saying it's a bad idea but, um," (Y/N) started but the look Cedric shot her made her blush and look away.

"Yes, (N/N), it's not a bad idea," Charlotte said, shuffling away from her father's side to hers, "Like look, it would be amazing, we can buy chocolates together, we can movies together and then we could, uh, um, get shots together,"

(Y/N) burst out laughing while Cedric chuckled, "You want to get shots together!?"

"What?" Charlotte asked, adorably dragging the syllables and pouted, crossing her arms, "Stop laughing,"

"Sorry, sorry," (Y/N) coughed to prevent herself from giggling.

"Home sweet home," Cedric said, pushing the door to his flat open and standing inside with his arms wide open, "Come on,"

(Y/N) placed her bags down and took a moment to appreciate how neat the flat was, she had pictured something worse than this, something much messier and she was more than surprised to realise her dorm was not even near to this place.

Charlotte had taken her hand and guided her in while Cedric moved to the kitchen for doing who-knows-what.

A grey couch was placed in the middle of the living room, a TV before it. The kitchen island was on the left, where she could see Cedric clearly fiddling with a glass. There were two rooms on one end of the flat and another one on the opposite side.

"Water," Cedric muttered, passing her the glass of water, "So, we have an extra room here, you can take that and it has an attached restroom. We can shift a few things from my room like a dresser and such. If you need help in arranging things, do let me know."

Cedric took her to the side of the flat where two rooms were situated, "This one is Charlotte's," he said, pointing at the room decorated with glow in the dark stars, cartoon characters, superheroes along with a few snippets of Cedric and Charlotte together and a banner reading 'The Princess'.

"The princess?" (Y/N) asked, chuckling.

"Yes," Charlotte answered, enthusiastically and (Y/N) leaned down, picking the little girl up into her arms, "We could change your room to 'The Queen',"

Cedric made a noise as though choking on his spit and patted his head, "Charlotte,"

The little girl shrugged and leaned against (Y/N).

"Anyways, this is your room," Cedric said, beckoning her to follow him inside "her room".

The room was spacious, neat and clean. A queen-sized bed in the middle of the room along with a wardrobe on the side of the room, a study desk in front of the bed.

(Y/N) had felt so guilty accepting Cedric's offer, she didn't know yet why she even agreed to this in the first place, perhaps the way Charlotte had asked, the look on her face that resembled the greatest hopefulness, the tone of her voice as though (Y/N) living with her would be the happiest moment of the little girl's life.

(Y/N) had taken one glance at Cedric who fondly stared at his daughter, looking like he wanted to fulfil every dream of his little princess even if it is the most impossible thing to achieve and at that moment all she craved for was to just freeze the happiness on both the father and the daughter's face.

She had sighed and smiled, muttering, "I-OK,"

Both Cedric and Charlotte cheered as the little girl excitedly talked about her home.

"I dunno if this is great but well-" Cedric said, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other.

"Oh, please, this is great. I mean my full dorm was even smaller than this single room," (Y/N) said, gratefully.

"We'll give you time to shift. C'mon, princess," Cedric said, stretching his arms for his daughter who clung to (Y/N) and shook her head.

"I will help her," she muttered, staring at her father and batting her lashes.

Cedric shook his head, exasperatedly, and started to leave, "Do whatever you want, just don't disturb her!" he yelled over his shoulder as he walked to the living room.

(Y/N) glanced at the little girl in her arms who looked back at her cheekily making the adult burst out laughing once again that day.

Within months the three of them became tightly knit, their schedules shifting unknowingly to accommodate all of their plans. Yeah, they had plans, movie nights on Friday and Saturday nights, take outs on Monday, visiting amusement parks and as such.

(Y/N) hadn't dated anyone in quite a while and before a month or so, she begged all the deities that someone would ask her for a date and that hadn't happened at all but now, she is declining everyone that had come to her with a nervous smile. She doesn't know why and she hoped her hypothesis to be false. What's her hypothesis you ask? She thinks, perhaps, somewhere in the journey with Cedric and Charlotte she might have developed feelings for the father and she is most embarrassed about it, and hence, suppressing the feeling to the bottom of her heart.

As (Y/N) was dealing with her problem, it seemed Cedric had one of his own, he too, perhaps, along the way fell in love with her, and he was terrified. And Charlotte sat back, watching awkward encounters of the adults with scrunched eyebrows and confused eyes but she loved (Y/N) nonetheless, and hadn't been scared to express it on a daily basis.

"(N/N)!" Charlotte yelled from her bedroom, "(N/N), C'mere!"

"One second!" (Y/N) called back from the kitchen, "Where's your dad? Oh, here you are," she muttered, siping her hands and taking a seat on the edge of Charlotte's bed.

"How may I serve, my lady?" (Y/N) asked with a fake bow. Charlotte giggled while Cedric tried to conceal the fond smile that threatened to spill.

"Will you come to pick me up tomorrow?" Charlotte asked.

"Uh," (Y/N) looked at Cedric, confused, who just smirked back, "Where-? Oh! From your school!?"

"Yeah," Charlotte said, looking at her hopefully and there wasn't a minute for her to think about it before she said, "OK,"

"Yay!" Charlotte cheered, throwing her arms around (Y/N)'s neck.

"Cedric, hey, Cedric," (Y/N) shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up but he slept like a log, unbothered of her presence, "Cedric Diggory, wake up!"

"Yes, yes, I'm awake," Cedric said, shooting up and rubbing his eyes, "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter!? What's the matter, you ask!? You have to drop your daughter in school, don't you!?" (Y/N) yelled, glaring at Cedric as realisation hit him like a truck and he bolted out of his bed, yelling for his daughter incoherently.

"Dad shut up, please!" Charlotte yelled, placing her palm against her ears.

Cedric scoffed as (Y/N), watching the scene, chuckled, "Sorry, your highness, but do you or do you not wanna go to the school?"

"No, Cedric!" (Y/N) yelled, before Charlotte could answer, "You can't ask kids these sort of questions,"

She glared at him as he adjusted the hoodie he had worn inside out, "Angel, your ready?"

"No," she pouted. (Y/N) sighed and collected the girl in his arms and walked to the door, dragging Cedric behind her by the arm.

"I know, Angel, school is boring but you will get friends there and you will have cool teachers," (Y/N) explained to the little girl, dropping a quick kiss to her forehead.

Little Charlotte groaned and buried her into (Y/N)'s shoulder. The older girl grimaced and looked at Cedric, who mouthed, 'day off?'.

And (Y/N) mouthed, 'Absolutely not'.

Cedric sighed while she racked her brain for an idea, "Hey, Angel! Remember I gotta pick you up from school and for that, you should go to school first,"

At this, the little girl's head piped up, eyes shining. Charlotte wiggled her way down and took her father's hand dragging him hurriedly to the door.

the adults grinned and exchanged a look. "Bye!" Cedric yelled, involuntarily pecking her cheek as his daughter clung to his arm, pulling him with her.

Neither of them realised it until they turned around, frozen on the spot, a wooden door separating the two of them.

(Y/N) touched the spot he kissed, a warm blush forming on her face and butterflies erupting in the pit of her stomach.

Cedric took Charlotte in his arms, dazedly, a fond smile on his face. He looked at the little girl that owned every bit of him and suddenly the smile collapsed, to him it was selfish, putting his stupid feelings before his daughter. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I love you, princess," he said.

"I love you too, papa, but we are really getting late," The two of them laughed.

Cedric whistled, scrolling through his phone as he waited for (Y/N) near her Hospital to get Charlotte.

"Hello," she greeted, taking a seat in the front, "How are you?"

"I am great. How was your day?" Cedric asked, closing his phone and starting the car.

(Y/N) hummed, "It was OK like it wasn't awesome but it wasn't the worst either,"

"A boring day,"

"I wouldn't say a boring day but um, uh, tedious day?"

"Really?"

"I am sorry," (Y/N) said, with a chuckle. They fell into a comfortable silence, the radio filling the car with soft music.

"Go in, I will park the car and come," Cedric said, as he stopped the car at the entrance of the school.

(Y/N) sauntered to the school, exploring around until one of the teachers saw her and asked, "Are you waiting for your child?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) said without hesitation but immediately realised that Charlotte was not her child, "No, not mine. I, uh, I am here for Charlotte Diggory,"

The teacher asked her to wait and moments later arrived with a couple of kids, beaming Charlotte in the middle.

The little girl opened her arms wide, as she ran to (Y/N), "(N/N)!"

"Hello, Angel!" she yelled, as the little girl jumped into her arms and twirled, "How was your day, peeps?"

"It was the best!" She threw her hand up in the air and giggled.

"Who is this, Charlotte?" A small voice asked from below. When they looked down they saw a cute little boy with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes, he would grow up to be a handsome man.

"This my," Charlotte stopped mid-sentence trying to figure who this amazing woman was to her, she hoped, no, wished that she would be something similar to a...mother.

"Friend?" (Y/N) suggested.

Charlotte smiled lightly, "Best friend! She is my best friend,"

"Hello, ladies," Cedric joined them, wiggling the keys in his fingers and took his daughter into his arms, "Hello, princess! How was your day!?"

"Woo!" She exclaimed.

Cedric scrunched his eyebrows, "Woo?" He looked behind his daughter at the woman who looked away a slight blush on her face. He chuckled shaking his head and that's when the little boy watching the interaction caught his eyes.

He let his daughter down and crouched to the little boy's height, "Hey Andy! How are you?"

"I am great Mr Diggory," The boy said, politely with a wide grin.

Cedric ruffled his hair and smiled.

"Oil! Cedric! Hey!" (Y/N) sighed exasperatedly, "Never know what the hell is happening in the home," she mumbled under her breath as she walked to his room.

"Dig-!" She stopped mid threat as she saw him sitting on the bed, Charlotte cuddled in his arms, her hands clutching his collar and her head on his shoulder, fast asleep.

(Y/N) bit her lips, "Is she sleeping?" She whispered, walking to the bed.

"Yes, so stop yelling," he whispered back.

"Sorry," she crouched before them and dragged a hand down Charlotte's face, pushing the hair on her face back, "She looks adorable,"

"She does, doesn't she?" He smiled, looking at his daughter fondly. And then his smile slipped, "I need a help from you,"

"What's it?" (Y/N) looked at him, "Is everything alright?"

"Tomorrow," Cedric took a deep breath, "Tomorrow I am having the hearing for the...divorce,"

"Oh," was all she could muster.

"So, can you watch Charlotte tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely, of course," she said, giving him a warm smile.

[a-simple-imagine]

Until Breakfast

Synopsis: Y/N meets Harley Quinn at a club and ends up looking after her for the night

Pairing: Harley Quinn x fem!reader

Words: 1.9k+

A/N - Based on the Canary/Quinn scene in BoP. I was supposed to have this up for valentine's day but it wasn’t finished so...

Warning - Swearing, alcohol and implied attempted assault

Personally, you don't visit nightclubs very often. There's always too much going on and frankly, you didn't exactly have a lot of friends to go with but today you were embracing your independence and going it alone. The music was so loud, you couldn't even think but that was exactly what you needed right now. Who doesn't love to be stuffed into a sweaty room with a bunch of strangers? At least everyone seemed to be having fun; if you could call it that, most of them just seemed wasted. You decide to head straight for the bar, a drink will help bring you out of your shell a little. With so many people in once place, accidents were going to happen so it was no surprise when a body basically slammed into you. Stumbling backward, you manage to recover quickly as well as catch the person before they collapse. She lingers in your arms before pushing you away.

"I- ‘m fine- don' worry." She practically shouts down your ear. You help her up right where she presents you with a lopsided smile. For a moment she seems to be inspecting you. "Harley Quinn, nice to meetcha," She grabs your hand, shaking it rapidly. You already knew who she was, everyone did; it wasn't like it was hard to figure out.

"I'm Y/N," you reply slowly.

"You're pretty, Y/N," Harley insisted, almost falling on top of you. "Like real pretty."

"Thanks," Hands held out to stop her from falling but she just stumbles and regains composure. "You're... very pretty too."

"Ya think so?" Harley's arm snakes around your shoulders, turning you both so you face the large crowd. "So, who are you 'ere wit, huh? You're much too cute to be all alone."

"Guess you're the only one who thinks that," You awkwardly chuckle, looking to her. "Who are you here with?"

"I'm all on my lonesome," she declares loudly, tapping you ever so playfully on the nose. "I'm a strong inde- indi, independence woman."

"I can change that," You're abruptly shoved away from Harley to make room for someone new. An older guy. Smelt overwhelmingly like aftershave. He put an arm around you while the other sat on Harley's shoulders. "No one should be on their own. How about I get you two ladies some drinks and you can come join me and my friends."

He could have been a nice guy but the fact he shoved his way into the conversation didn't sit right with you. Ducking out of his grip, you shake your head. "No thanks, I'm good." Harley, on the other hand, heard the word drinks and her eyes light up.

"Yes," she clapped. "Drinks."

He's already whisking her away before you have a chance to intervene; you had no right to anyway. You weren't Harley's keeper. She was a grown woman who is free to do whatever she likes. You do follow to the bar though, opting to stay as far away from them as you order yourself a drink.

Hours spent in a dark club quickly grows tiresome. Your head was beginning to throb along with the bass of yet another EDM track. And you were tired of everyone. If they weren't accidentally bumping into you, they were hitting on you. You did run into a very nice girl in the bathroom though, she really gave you a confidence boost; kinda like Harley did. Sliding off the bar stool, you decide to call it a night and head for the door but of course, that's when you notice her. She'd gotten considerably quieter but Harley was still here; not for long though because she was practically being dragged out towards the exit. Call it instinct but you decide it's a good idea to go check on her. Make sure she's okay before you head home too.

"Hey Harley- wait up" you call out, charging towards them. It was the same guy; maybe they were going home together? Harley though, seemed out of it which explained the dragging and that didn't sit well with you. "You doing okay?" She hardly knew you but she also hardly knew this guy so you weren't sure if you should trust him to take care of her or help out? In response to having watched too many crime shows, you decide it's best to intervene.

"She's fine," He answers for her. That definitely left a sour taste in your mouth. "Nothing to see here."

"I'll believe that when she tells me herself," You comment, eyeing the woman in question. "Do you want to go with him, Harley?"

"I don't wanna go 'ome," It was hard to make out slurred but that wasn't a yes. He sighed loudly.

"See? We're fine." He snaps back. Harley mumbles something you can't even comprehend among the music.

"I didn't hear a yes," you comment, "just let her go, man. I'm gonna take her home, she looks like she's gonna pass out."

You watch him debate it in his head. Should he give up a girl who would so willingly go home with him or keep fighting for her? Gently, you reach for Harley's wrist. "Y/N," she mumbles happily, you're surprised she even remembers your name at this point. Harley stumbles back into your arms, nearly pulling you to the floor in the process.

"Fuckin' bitches," was all he said thankfully as he disappeared back into the crowd. You didn't have a plan if he decided to keep fighting so you're glad he just didn't see her as worth the effort.

"Shall we go?" You ask her softly, it wasn't a question you needed an answer to but you got one anyway.

"Nooooooo," she whined. "Don't wanna."

You take a deep breath and lead her outside into the cool night air. You push her against the wall to look at her straight on. She wore a dopey smile. "Where do you live, Harley?" You tried to be as stern as possible in hopes she'd come out with something you'd understand. She did not. She just kept insisting she didn't want to go home; probably for the best considering the shape she was in. Now stuck with the clown queen herself, you couldn't leave her there because some idiot was bound to see an opportunity so you book an Uber back to your place.

"Let's get you to bed, yeah?" Harley giggles hauntingly as you lead her inside your apartment. For such a small girl she was heavy but that may be because you were supporting all her weight. It takes everything in you to actually get her into the bedroom where she collapses down onto your bed. You push her over, so she's lying on her front; watching as she nuzzles against the duvet. Tossing the blanket over her, you take your leave.

"Wait," You look back at her. "Stay... stay with me,"

"I'm gonna be just out here." You explain, pointing out the door. Sleeping on the couch seemed like the best option here.

No," she groans, waving her arm around against the bed. "here."

"I think it's best if I stay on the couch."

"No!" Her voice got louder but it was still a pathetic attempt at shouting. It was amusing. "I'll scream."

"Please don't,"

She takes a dramatic deep breath- "Fine," you give in quickly. It was just easier to appease her than have her scream the place down. "can I at least get ready first?"

"Mhmm," Her voice was muffled, you take a detour to the bathroom. When you are finally ready for bed, she's already passed out and drooling a little. It was... sweet. Switching off the light you creep out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind you. It was just your luck that you hear a muffled yell of your name. At least that's what you think it was, either way, it was definitely Harley's voice. With a heavy sigh, you head back into the bedroom. How was she not completely gone was beyond you.

"You... sta... me," You roll your eyes. Her ability to form sentences seemed to dwindle more and more as the night went on but you assume she's telling you to stay in the bed. "P...wease" eventually you just give in and crawl up beside her.

"Do not throw up on me-" You come to an abrupt stop when the woman latches on to you like a teddy bear, nuzzling against you. You'd shuffle out of her grip if you didn't think it would just set her off again; so instead you just lay there in her arms until you eventually drift off too.

You're awake before Harley- no surprise there. At some point, she had let go of you during the night so thankfully, you didn't have much trouble getting out of bed without disturbing her. Making some coffee while you wait for the stranger to wake up. The loud thump from the bedroom suggested that she was finally awake. You check on her only to find her face down on the floor. "You okay?"

One arm shoots into the air giving you a thumbs up so you just leave her be. She comes out a little while later. "Where... am I?" She asks, surveying the apartment. "What happened?"

Coffee between your palms, you turn around to her. Leaning back against the countertop. All things considered, the girl looks pretty good. "You're," she points at you and just stops talking for a second. "the girl from the club... shit- Y/N, right?"

You nod, impressed by the fact she remembered. "I am."

"And you... kidnapped me?"

"What? No- What?" You reply sharply, the panic evident in your shrill voice. She takes a seat at the kitchen table. "some guy at the club tried to take your drunk ass home with him and I didn't trust him so I brought you here-" you realise that doesn't sound better. "But nothing happened. I- I was just tryna help and you wouldn't tell me where you lived or I would have taken you there I swear-"

"Fuckin' men eh?" Harley interrupted with a little chuckle. "At least I got to go home with a pretty girl, right?" You couldn't tell if she was joking or not. You took a sip of coffee as you lingered in silence. "I want breakfast."

"Uh... I can make you something maybe? I don't know what I have though."

"No," Harley huffs, head falling to rest against the wooden table; you don't even try to question it. "We're gonna go out." She piped back up, jumping out of her seat.

"We?"

"Yes," she declares loudly. "I know this place that makes the best egg sandwich and we're going. Consider it a thank you."

"I don't know..." Harley was a stranger and also a criminal. She probably wasn't the best person to be hanging out with.

"I won't take no for an answer."

"Are you gonna scream again?" You tease. Her brows furrow and you watch as her expression changes trying to figure out what that meant.

"Yeah?" She shrugs, clearly still confused. "I'll scream."

"Fine. Breakfast." You agree, giving her a small unsure smile before placing your mug down.

"Let's go pretty girl" Harley marches for the exit. You linger for a moment before beginning to collect a few things.

"I have a name," you huff. "And you have no shoes on." but when you look up she's already walking out the door.

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

I’m Fine: An AtsuHina sick fic (Part 1)

@wraithpoison said:

an atsuhina sick fic please <3

This is a request from my other blog! I’m sorry it took me so long. Honestly, I had a lot of trouble with this one for some reason? I rewrote it like three times :/ and this one is actually going to be in two parts too! This part isn’t too AtsuHina heavy, but the next part will be. 

I’m Fine: an AtsuHina sick fic (part 1)

Part 2

Pairing: Sick Atsumu, caretaker Hinata (also caretakers Rin & Osamu)

Word Count: 2,360

Trigger Warnings: vomiting, swearing, stressed Hinata :(

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, Tsumu,” Shoyo frowned at him through their FaceTime. Unfortunately, the redhead was in an airport, sitting at his gate waiting for his flight and not currently with Atsumu. He had headphones in, but they were picking up all of the noise around him and it made Atsumu’s head pound.

“I know, Sho. Try not to worry so much, alright? Imma big kid now. I can take care of a little fever by myself,” Atsumu responded sleepily. He was curled up in a blanket, lying on their couch.

The Jackals were given about 2 weeks off and Shoyo decided to use that time to go visit some of his friends in Brazil for a week. He invited Atsumu, but the latter declined, saying that he wanted to go home and see his mom.

Atsumu got home last night and Shoyo’s flight was set to arrive tomorrow morning. The plans worked out perfectly so that they’d have a week on their respective vacations and a week together.

While Atsumu was driving home last night, he started feeling lethargic and heavy and just overall Not Good. He brushed it off as exhaustion and went straight to bed when he got back, only to wake up this morning feeling worse. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that he had a fever. The sticky sweat that plastered his clothes to his body despite the chills he felt were a dead giveaway.

Shoyo called him when he got settled at the gate. Atsumu tried valiantly to appear healthy, but after 3 years of dating, Shoyo knew him entirely too well to be fooled. Now he was all anxious and trying to magically make the 24 hour journey from Rio to Tokyo happen in less time.

“I know, but I’m just worried. And I feel bad that I’m not there to help you,” Shoyo pouted. Atsumu rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine, Sho. I’ll see ya tomorrow and you can make me better with all the overdue cuddles I’m owed.”

Shoyo’s lips quirked up ever so slightly and Atsumu felt a little better.

“Did you take something?” Shoyo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you staying hydrated?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Did you call Samu and Rin to let them know?”

“I just texted them. They’ll come runnin’ if I need ‘em,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to order you some soup from that one restaurant?”

“What? Sho, no-“

“They’ll deliver! I can do it from here. The airport has wifi and I might have to pay for it but that’s okay and if it means that—“ Shoyo started rambling frantically and Atsumu’s head spun.

“Shoyo, hey. Shut up, will ya?” He chuckled and Shoyo’s mouth snapped shut.

“Sorry, Tsumu. I just wish I was home already,” he looked down. (Atsumu obviously wasn’t with his boyfriend, but if he knew him at all, Shoyo was nervously picking at the hem of his shirt.)

“I know. Me too,” Atsumu replied. Truth be told, he was feeling a lot worse than he let on. At the least, he hoped Shoyo couldn’t tell.

His head felt like it was being squeezed, he was congested, those chills were still pretty prevalent, his body felt like it weighed 1000 pounds and he felt vaguely nauseous.

That’s what he was most afraid of, honestly. He really, really didn’t want to throw up. He’s never liked it; never handled it well. Hopefully he could stave off the nausea, at least until Shoyo got home.

Shoyo looked back up at him and Atsumu wanted more than anything for him to be home right now so he could physically rub away the anxious lines on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured. Shoyo nodded.

“I’m gonna take a nap, okay? Yer flight leaves at midnight yer time right?” Again, Shoyo nodded. Perfect. That meant that he’d be home by noon tomorrow. It was about 10 in the morning in Tokyo (so 10 in the evening in Rio), so Atsumu only had to wait about 26 hours for Shoyo to get home. Hopefully, he’d be sleeping most of that time anyway.

“Okay,” he said, “can ya stop worrying? It’s just a little fever.” Shoyo groaned.

“Fine! Fine. As long as you promise to text your brother if you start feeling worse. Please don’t push yourself, Tsum-Tsum,” Shoyo all but begged. Atsumu gaped at him.

“Me? Overwork myself? I’m offended at the implication, babe” he teased. Shoyo rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m serious, Atsumu. You always push yourself more than you should. Don’t do that this time, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Honestly,” he resituated himself, “I’m prob’ly just gonna take a nap and order take out. I don’t feel much like doing anything anyway,” he shrugged. And oops, he probably shouldn’t have said that. Immediately, Shoyo became more suspicious.

“You? Agreeing to rest? Are you sure it’s just a fever?”

“‘Course!” Atsumu forced a laugh and Shoyo’s eyes narrowed. “Have I ever lied to you, baby?”

“Yes,” Shoyo deadpanned, “all the time.” Atsumu bristled.

“Not about anything important, though! And my health is important,” he assured.

“Atsumu, please take this seriously. Fevers are no joke, okay? I know that all too well,” Shoyo said, a serious look on his face. Atsumu wanted to wash it away. He frowned, remembering nationals his second year of high school, watching Shoyo collapse on the court. They may not have been close yet, but it was scary nonetheless.

“I know. And I promise I am taking care of myself, alright?” he said, no longer trying to joke, but simply reassure. He hated causing Shoyo any sort of anxiety.

“I’m gonna go now, okay?” He said and Shoyo nodded.

“Okay. Alright. Take a nap. Stay hydrated. Text Osamu if you need to. Don’t be all proud,” Shoyo instructed.

“Yes, yes, okay. I love you. Have a safe flight,” he smiled. Shoyo’s face brightened and Atsumu felt slightly reassured that maybe, just maybe, Shoyo wouldn’t spend his entire 24 hour journey home worrying about him.

“I love you, too. See you tomorrow,” Shoyo replied and with that, the call ended.

As soon as Shoyo’s face disappeared from his phone, Atsumu sank into the couch and exhaled exhaustedly. Keeping up the appearance that he felt alright took way more energy than he thought.

He curled up on his side and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself. A nap. That’s what he needed. If he was asleep, he could ignore the headache and the nausea and the chills. And hopefully, when he woke up, he’d feel better.

With that thought, Atsumu went to sleep.

***

Shoyo stared anxiously at the screen that previously had his boyfriend’s pale, flushed face displayed on it. Atsumu was definitely more sick than he let on and Shoyo might punch him later for lying, but for the time being, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t make his trip home any shorter.

Instead of letting panic take hold, he did the next best thing. He texted Osamu and Rintaro.

From: Shoyo

“Did Atsumu text you guys?”

From: Osamu

“Yeah. Sorry your boyfriend’s an idiot.”

From: Rin

“Samu, while you’re absolutely correct and should say so, maybe not right now.”

“Don’t worry, Sho. Samu is an ass, but he’s worried too. We’re gonna go check on that pig later today.”

Shoyo breathed a huge sigh of relief towards the ceiling. Osamu doesn’t show it, but he does care about his brother. And Shoyo could always count on them.

From: Shoyo

“Thank you guys. Let me know how he’s doing?”

“I just got off FaceTime with him and he was putting up a brave front, but he didn’t look good.”

From: Osamu

“Of course he was. I gotcha, Shoyo. I’ll knock some sense into the big stupid.”

From: Rin

“In other words, yes, we’ll keep you updated and make sure that he’s well taken care of. Don’t stress. Just focus on getting home and leave the time in between to us.”

Shoyo did feel better knowing that Rin and Osamu were so close to Atsumu and could check up on him. He’d be okay. So, for the time being, all he could do was wait.

***

Atsumu woke up to conversation. He squeezed his eyes and shifted around, groaning. Whoever was talking needed to shut up. The tightness in his head hadn’t let up at all and he was absolutely freezing.

“Oh, yer awake. Finally.”

Atsumu scrunched his eyebrows together and blinked his eyes open, only to find his brother and Rin sitting on the love seat next to the couch.

“Samu?” He croaked.

“Yeah. We’re actually here. It’s not some crazy fever induced dream,” he said in his usual monotone.

“More like a nightmare,” Atsumu mumbled. He sat up and the room spun. He moaned and put his face in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Rin asked him. Atsumu glanced at his phone. It was about two thirty in the afternoon. Twenty one and half hours until Shoyo was home.

“Fine,” he responded, but it was muffled by his hands. “I told you you guys I’d let ya know if I needed ya. Why’re you here?” He looked at them again.

“Shoyo asked us to come.” Rin shrugged.

“‘Course he did,” he sighed.

“Well, it’s a good thing we did. Ya look like shit,” Osamu said bluntly and stood up. He left the room, but came back a second later with some soup and a ginger ale.

“Eat. Then take some more meds and then we’ll get outta yer hair.”

Atsumu stared at the soup for a second and his stomach turned itself over. He really didn’t want to put anything in his body right now.

“Did ya poison it?” He tried to disguise the involuntary curl of his lip off as an insult towards his brother.

“Wha—no, you stupid pig, we didn’t poison it.” Osamu almost yelled, his eyebrows furrowing together. In fact, Atsumu was sure that if he wasn’t feeling so awful, his brother would have yelled and smacked him upside the head. But Osamu also happened to know Atsumu entirely too well.

“It’s from some restaurant that Shoyo told us about. He said it was your favorite,” Rin said, his tone quiet. Probably because Osamu knew Atsumu had a headache and warned Rin.

Atsumu felt his chest twist. Shoyo sent them? And told them about his favorite soup? Atsumu wanted to cry.

“Are you crying?” Rin asked, wide eyed. Oh, maybe he was crying. He couldn’t tell, honestly. His face was hot, regardless.

“Ppppfttt,” Osamu held back a laugh.

“Hey! Don’t be an ass. I don’t feel good and I miss my boyfriend,” Atsumu sniffled. “Need I remind ya of the time Rin was gone for a week and ya whined to me about it nightly,” he shot back. Osamu shut up.

“Just eat it,” was all he said. Atsumu must look at lot worse than he thinks because Osamu wasn’t fighting back. He only did that when he knew Atsumu really wasn’t feeling good—physically or mentally.

Staring at the soup, he couldn’t help the twist of his face again.

“Tsumu,” Osamu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does yer stomach hurt?”

Atsumu blushed (or was that his fever?) and shook his head rapidly.

“No! It’s...it’s fine. I’m fine,” he said probably too hastily.

“Don’t lie, please.” Osamu put a hand on his hip and stared Atsumu down. Rin looked between them curiously. Atsumu glared at his brother.

“It’s a little uneasy. But I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Are ya sure you don’t want us to stay with ya until Shoyo gets back?” Osamu asked gently. From the corner of his eye, Atsumu saw Rin’s eyes widen at the abrupt softness coming from Osamu.

Atsumu hesitated. Did he want them to stay? They were offering. It’s not like he was inconveniencing them in any way. Osamu may be a dick, but he was still his brother. And if he was going to puke later, he’d want someone else here. He opened his mouth to say yes please stay I don’t want to be alone, but was cut off by Sunarin.

“Samu, we can’t stay. We promised Akaashi we’d take the twins overnight since they went out of town with Kuroo and Kenma,” Sunarin said. He pulled his lips into a tight line and picked at his fingernails.

Clearly, he didn’t want to leave Atsumu alone. But the Bokuto twins were handfuls at best and nightmares at worst. There was no way that Rin could watch them alone. And Atsumu couldn’t very well go over there and risk getting them sick.

Osamu looked between the two of them and bit his lip.

“Rin, would you mind if—“

“It’s fine, Samu,” Atsumu interrupted. It wasn’t fine.

Osamu’s eyes burned holes into Atsumu’s face. He knew. He knew that Atsumu was nauseas. He knew that Atsumu hated vomiting. Atsumu appreciated it, he did. But he didn’t need his brother to come to his rescue.

“Sho will be home tomorrow morning. It’s fine. I’ll call if I need ya,” he tried to sound confident, but his voice shook. His throat hurt.

Osamu obviously didn’t believe him, the frown on his face and the pull of his eyebrows giving him away. He exhaled through his lips and nodded.

“Okay. But seriously, you can call if ya need to,” he resigned and sat down beside Atsumu on the couch.

Rin and Osamu stayed for a few more hours until they absolutely had to leave. Osamu was still reluctant and it made Atsumu happy when he remembered how much his brother cared, despite the way it looked to outsiders. With another promise to call if he needed to, the two of them left Atsumu alone once more.

He surveyed his body.

Headache? Crushing.

Fever? Scorching.

Body Aches? Heavy.

Nausea? Prevalent.

He moaned and curled tightly in on himself once more. The DVD player under the TV said it was nearly five pm. A little more than 17 hours until Shoyo was home. He could do this. He’d be fine.

***

He was not fine. He was absolutely not fine.

Atsumu heaved into the toilet, gripping the seat tightly. Everything happened so fast. One second he was asleep on the couch and in the next second he was sprinting to the bathroom, just barely making it before projectile vomiting into the toilet.

The room around him swirled and his throat burned with every aborted heave. What time was it? Would Shoyo be home soon? He felt so so terrible. It was so hot. Sweat covered every inch of his body, making it difficult to keep his hold on the toilet. Despite that, he was still trembling. His fever was probably way too high. He should do something about that, right?

His stomach lurched again and he belched wetly, but swallowed down whatever tried to come up. He refused. The loss of control that accompanied throwing up made him feel helpless and horrible and dammit what was that high pitched whine? It cut through his brain like a knife.

Finally, he was granted a reprieve and gasping, he sat back on his heels. He needed to move, needed to do something while he had the time. If he knew his body at all, he knew this was going to be a long fight that he would inevitably lose. It was such a surprise he didn’t have time to prepare. He wiped at his face.

Oh, he was crying. That was probably the whining that still hadn’t stopped. Pathetic.

Okay, it was fine. He could do this. Grabbing onto the sink, he hoisted himself up on unsteady legs.

In the next fifteen minutes, he managed to grab a blanket, a pillow, his phone, some crackers (not that he really wanted to eat them) and one of Shoyo’s nasty fruity sports drinks. The whole endeavor took way longer than it should have, but all of his movements were sluggish and difficult. It also became blatantly obvious that the battle against his stomach was not one he was going to win.

Just the thought of puking more kept a steady flow of tears streaming down his cheeks the entire trip.

Finally, he made it back to the bathroom and set up camp for the night. Smacking the screen of his phone, he checked the time.

“12:27 am” taunted him. Less than 12 hours. Good. He managed to sleep for around 5 hours.

Nausea swirled in his gut and he whimpered. Several unproductive heaves later, he was left reeling.

Somewhere in the haze of his mind, he thought to contact his brother. He couldn’t open his mouth though. No chance. Then he’d for sure puke. Where was Shoyo? He wanted Shoyo.

He picked up his phone in shaking fingers and sent a slew of what he hoped were coherent texts to their group chat with Osamu and Rin. Slowly but surely, he was losing his grasp on his surroundings, the fever messing with his brain.

Help. He needed help. He was scared.

Disgusting gurgles sounded from his stomach and he choked on a sob. He rested a cheek on the toilet seat, and gagged.

“No, no no no,” he cried, but he couldn’t stop it. He was too sick. Too weak. Too tired. Instead of trying to force it back down, he dropped his jaw and burped. Vomit poured out of his mouth and he sobbed between heaves.

When the fit ended, he collapsed onto the floor, gasping and crying. Why was this happening? Where was Shoyo? Why wasn’t his boyfriend here? Did he get tired of Atsumu and leave him? What about Osamu? Was he sick of Atsumu too?

Of course. Of course they were.

Shoyo. He just wanted his boyfriend. Why wasn’t he here? Why why why what did Atsumu do to chase him away?

Those were the last thoughts that plagued Atsumu’s mind before his surroundings faded away completely.

[smallestchances]

Almost Royal (2)

Long overdue?? Absolutely. Please forgive me? <3 Hope this was worth it!

Summary: (Y/N) is struggling more than she’d like to admit, and with the eve of her daughter’s birthday looming, she decided to give her daughter an unusual gift.

Pairing: Royal!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Douchebag boss, small amount of angst, mention of death, etc.

Masterlist

Taglist: @that-one-gay-girl @fanfictionjunkie1112 @flamencodiva @hoboal87 @cutestdolans @anaissomnia @kbl1313 @fuzzycloudsz @hollymac79 @vicmc624 @roxytheimmortal @lunaticgurly @coffeebooksandfandom @A-dorky-book-keeper @nihilismworld​

“Order up for table sixteen!”

The constant murmur of the diner around you only gets louder, and you skirt around the tables and patrons as fast as you could. Sweat collects on your top lip and your brow, the too small uniform chafing in almost every crease.

“(Y/N)! I told you, order up for table sixteen!” Sal yells from the kitchen, his baritone voice causing you to grit your teeth. You drop off the most recent order you had in your hands, giving them a quick smile before rushing to pick up the food.

You try to avoid the greasy cook, but Sal gives you a cunning smile that only makes your skin crawl as you pick up the four plates, balancing them perfectly. As you reach for the last one, Sal pushes it too far off the counter with his spatula, and it falls helplessly to the floor with a crash. 

“What the fuck!” Is all that passes through your mouth, and before you know it the whole diner has gone silent. Your fellow coworkers only look on with sympathy in your eyes, and it doesn’t take long before the usual white noise falls back into place.

“That’s quite an unprofessional mouth you’ve got there,” Sal reprimands, and you have to clench your jaw to prevent yourself from spitting in his direction. “I think I’m going to need you to open up tomorrow in order to amend that.”

“Sal--” you choke out. “You, you can’t do that. I’ve requested tomorrow off for the past three years--I’m already closing, I can’t do an fourteen hour shift tomorrow--”

“Then I can just take it out of your next paycheck,” he shrugs, starting to redo the food he destroyed.

All you can do is swallow. “No, I...I’ll come in at 6.”

“And?”

“And I’ll close at 8,” you mumble. 

“Good girl.”

It takes everything in you to go to table sixteen with the food in your hand, apologizing furiously on the delay for the last patron’s food. They seem understanding enough, and it almost makes the tears you were holding back fall from your eyes.

You thank God that you get to leave after the lunch rush, and you try to avoid as many people as you could. Driving quickly to the store and then home, you allow yourself to let out all frustrations as you blast your music.

When you finally get home, you’re about ready to collapse onto your couch and sleep when a piece of paper taped onto the grate in front of your door stops you. All you have to read is the big bold words Eviction Notice before you rip it off and storm into your apartment.

As you descend into your basement apartment, it’s just as cold and dark as you remember. A candle flickers on the center table in your makeshift living room, slightly illuminating the backpack and shoes that were thrown haphazardly. It’s the sight of these that make you smile, and as you put down the bags, you sprint into an adjoining room.

“Happy birthday eve!!” You scream at the top of your lungs, jumping excitedly onto the bed covered in purple comforters, avoiding the body of your daughter as you smile brightly. She only groans, beneath you, shaking herself awake from her after school nap. You strategically flop onto her, still in your Sal’s uniform.

You lock eyes with a shade of green you know too well, and you snuggle into her. “How does it feel Opal? Have you grown three inches? Have you grown a shoe size?” You gasp. “A BOOB size??”

“Mom!” She laughs, pulling away from you to bring a pillow over her head. “I’m not even sixteen yet. I feel the exact same way I did yesterday.”

“You’re going to be sixteen,” you mumble to yourself, staring up at your ceiling. Opal uncovers her head to plop it onto your shoulder. “My baby is going to be sixteen! It feels like just yesterday I was making you mac & cheese while we watched cartoons on the sofa.”

“That was yesterday Mom.”

“Oh how the time flies!”

You both laugh together, and silence falls over you briefly. You watch the sun go down from the limited rays of light from the “windows”. Your heart tightens. “I’m sorry baby bear,” you mumble rushing on before she could interrupt. “You deserve more than this, more than I’ve given you--”

“This is more than enough Mama--”

“No, it’s not. And I know that.” You sigh. “The moment you were born, I promised to always provide you things to the best of my ability. I promised to  protect you--and through it’s come in the form of a wild basement with 90% thrifted clothes--”

“I love my wild basement and thrifted clothes--”

“My point is,” you pause. “I am going to try so much more. Harder than I ever thought was possible, starting today.” You reach into your pocket book on the floor for a bulky parchment held together by brown paper and twine. 

“How much money did you fit into there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging her softly. “Don’t be a little shithead”--she smiles brightly--”I can’t celebrate your actual birthday with you tomorrow.  I have the opening shift at Sal’s before going over to Rick’s to clean up. So, I have three presents for you.”

You and Opal shift into a sitting position. “Present number one: I have ice cream cake waiting for you in the freezer.”

“Friendlys?!”

“You know it. Present number two: I got Rick to let us use his place to bake some apple pies. We’d have to make him some, but as soon as you feel ready--”

“Let’s go now.”

“Geez Opal,” you giggle. “As soon as you’re ready, not tonight, we can go. Present number three,” you breathe in deeply. “You know your father is a sore subject for me.”

Opal immediately sits up more, her eyes searching yours. “Mom?”

You nod in confirmation, tracing your fingers lightly over the parchment. “In here...are memories of what we had.” You swallow hard. “Now, I’ll give this to you, and you will have fourteen questions you can ask me with full disclosure.”

“Full honesty?”

“Full honesty. After that, I will fulfill two requests of yours that are in my jurisdiction. All to get you to your sweet sixteen.”

Opal doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then, she surges forward to embrace you tightly. “Mama,” she says through tears.

“Baby bear,” you respond, your voice thick as well When you pull back, you wipe away her fallen tears while you both smile. You place the package in her lap and she excitedly tears through it.

What she finds is photos. Piles of photos and letters and more letters and photos that illustrate the three years you had with the love of your life. There’s even hints of Sam in there, and you  watch carefully as she picks up a photo of Dean where he’s smiling brightly at the camera while on a boat--a smile that mirrors the one your daughter frequently wears.

“Mama,” she breathes. “This...this is a photo of King Dean. Why do you have a photo of King Dean?”

“Is that one of your questions?”

“No!” She amends, rewinding. “My father...is King Dean.”

“That’s wild.”

She flicks your arm. “Mom! I mean this is--I’m a--how?!”

“Excuse me,” you scoff. “Your mother’s a catch. And for that, you have 13 questions left.”

“Ah!” She exclaims, searching for words. “How did you two meet?”

“I worked all over the palace. I was a floater, I went where I was needed and coincidentally he was always there. He kept talking to me, we became friends, and eventually...one thing led to another.”

“Did you love each other?”

You swallow thickly. “With everything in us. Or at least for me. I’d always look for ways to see him, and he’s forgo royal duties just for me. We even got married, but I think it’s some sort of treason so I don’t bring it up.”

Opal’s jaw drops briefly. “What was he like?”

“Your father…” You pause. “Your father was one of the most selfless, bravest, stubbornest assholes I’d ever met. He was fiercely protective of his family, and he would sell his whole being if it meant the people he cared about were safe.”

“So when you say all men…”

“I only partially include Dean. 10 questions.”

“Who’s this?” She points to a group photo of you, Dean, Sam & Jess.

“That is your Uncle Sam.” You shift slightly. “He was my best friend. We were as thick as thieves within the palace, always getting into trouble. You wouldn’t believe the situations we got into.”

“And her?” She points to Jess.

“That’s Jess. His ex-fiancee.” Your heart lurches into your throat. “She was also my best friend, but things...Things went wrong when she went on a charity visit to a Rehabilitation Center. A patient got ahold of a gun, and she was shot.” A tear escapes your eye. “By the time anyone got to her, it was too late. She died instantly.”

Opal reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers before squeezing tightly. You give her a close lipped smile. “Did Sam or Jess know about me?”

“Sam yes--we found out together actually. Jess passed away a year before it all happened.”

“Does my father know?”

Your heart beats incessantly against your ribcage, drowning in your ears. You’d prepared for this question, you could answer it. But even as you did, each word felt like liquid tar in your mouth. “The day I left, no.  I was too hurt to even seek him out…But when I had you, I thought he had a right to know just how much of a true gem had stemmed from our love. Every year, a week after your birthday, I sent him memories of us from the past year. Photos of you mostly. I never got a reply.”

Opal deflates, and your chest clenches. “Do you...do you see any of him in me?”

A smile flits to your mouth, “So much it hurts,” you let out a chuckle. “From your smile to your eyes to your goddamn apple pie, there’s no way I could forget him when he lives so much in you.”

“So why’d you leave?”

You can only stare at her, mouth paused in shock. You debate whether you should tell her the truth. 

“You said full honesty Mama.”

You close your eyes tightly, trying to catch even your faintest breath. “He um,” you clear your throat to dislodge the block forming. “He was too invested in running the country, and getting married to someone who wasn’t me--”

Opal leans into you, trying to offer some comfort. “Aww, Mama.

“The worst part is...is he didn’t tell me. I’d heard it from his m--from someone who was more than pleased to see us separated. I hadn’t heard from him for days, I’d just found out about you, and now here they were, threatening our lives if we didn’t get on our first plane out of there.”

“So you left without another word.”

You don’t answer.

“But--but maybe if you’d stayed, if he’d known about me we’d be together right now! You should’ve fought for him--”

“Fought for him?” You interrupted. “Opal, I had done nothing but fight for him. I would never leave his side and then--then he wasn’t the only person I had to fight for.”

“So who was it?”

“What?”

“Who made you leave? Who threatened us?”

“Opal--”

“Mom--”

“Don’t make me answer this.”

“You said full. Honesty.”

It takes everything in you to answer. “Your Grandmother.”

Opal lets out a breath and sits back heavily. “Well fuck.”

“I know,” you chuckle. 

You both don’t speak for a while. 

“Do you miss him?” She asks. 

“Everyday. Every time I think I’m over it, it comes back tenfold.”

“Does that mean you’d go back if you could?”

You but your lip. “I...I don’t know. That’s something I’d have to reevaluate if it ever came down to it.”

She nods thoughtfully.

“One more question baby bear.”

“...Which palace do they spend their most time in?”

You tilt your head, surprised at her last question. “That’s what you’re going to ask.”

“What can I say? I’m curious and a little bit of a daydreamer.”

Her last words break you a little more, so you tell her. She nods gratefully, and you lean forward to give her forehead a kiss. “Alright, do you want a slice of cake before we clonk out?”

Once again, to your surprise she shakes her head. “I’ll have some with you tomorrow, I think I might hit the bed now.”

“Okay.” You surrender, lifting yourself from the bed. “Good choice. Goodnight baby bear.”

“Goodnight Mama.”

You walk out of the room, and immediately Opal pulls out her phone to look up the palace. After some extensive digging and some slight dead ends, she finds a Redditt thread that swears by a palace address that’ll get her immediately to the inner circle. She quickly writes it down, and she finds a piece of paper and a few pencils.

With a deep breath, she starts to write.

It’s been about a week since your conversation with Opal, and work has been shitty. Nothing new, really, is all you can think as you wait patiently for Opal to meet you outside her school in your beat up car. Your vows to make things better seem to have fallen flat. Bills have started to drown you more than before, and you’ve recently been fired from Sal’s--you honestly don’t know how much longer you can keep your head above water.

Opal bounds to the car, humming and you give her an incredulous look. “Someone’s awfully chipper.”

“Well someone’s awfully a grouch,” she retorts.

“Well, we do live in a trash can,” you mumble, pulling away from the curb. “Baby bear, I gotta tell you something--”

“You got laid off.”

“I got--wait, how’d you know?”

“I heard you grumbling Wednesday night about Sal being a sleazeball who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“Well--”

“And I found our eviction notice Mom.”

Blood rushes to your ears and you groan. “Look, I know this sounds bad, but we’ll be back on our feet before we know it, and this’ll all be behind us.”

“I know.”

You smile. “Thank you for your optimism baby bear.”

“Next time, I’ll charge you $25 for each optimistic phrase.”

You laugh heartily. “I’ll let you know when I can afford that.”

Pulling onto the side of your street, things are awfully quiet, though neither you nor Opal notice. Unlocking your apartment, you go down the steps only to freeze at the sight of apple green eyes you never thought you’d see again. 

“Dean?”

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

Look out for Part Three coming soon!

[thenightgazer]

Spark of Stardust

Chapter 2 : Under The Fair Moonlight After months of friendship, tonight is the first time for Vergil to visit Lyra's house for a tea... and some unexpected confessions.

Warning : parental abuse, drug abuse, PTSD, psychological/emotional abuse, munchausen syndrome by proxy

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

He doesn’t remember how he ended up lying on the ground.  

He stares at the sky, only to find the full moon staring back at him.  

Where am I?

What am I doing here?

An agonizing wail distracts him from his own thoughts. If only he could move his body, it would be easier to find out what’s going on here. He starts to lose his sight as he feels something come out from his head, dripping to his ear, then to his back. He tries to glance at his surroundings in vain and realizes that his eyes are going to betray him again.  

Then he feels it— pain.  

A tremendous pain all over his body.  

The woman is screaming again. This time it is louder and sounds a lot more terrifying.  

As he struggles to move his body, with desperation creeping in his spine, he finally sees a glimpse of the woman’s figure. Standing on the rooftop of the house, she is trembling and sobbing. He can’t hear what she’s murmuring, yet something forces him to keep his eyes on her. It’s against his will, and he can’t do anything against it.  

To be fair, everything doesn’t make any sense to him since the beginning. He just wants to end this absurd dream.  

But now he’s sure of something; that he recognizes her face. He can see it clearly now. It all makes sense why she looks familiar since the first time he had this dream. The same cold, void eyes...  

… that belong to the late Asteria Crescent.

---  

The first thing that Vergil feels before he opens his eyes is someone else’s hand over his face. He stares blankly at the dark, which he soon recognizes as Dante’s hand blurring his vision.

He pushes Dante’s hand slowly without waking him up, recalling the memory before the twins ended up passed out on the Devil May Cry entrance floor.  

The party went smoothly. Kyrie loved the music box that Vergil gave her and wore the bracelet after he told her its function. The meal was delicious. The kids were well-behaved—more than usual—they even went to bed early with Kyrie. After that, they played poker and Dante suggested having a drinking game. Vergil was never a heavy drinker, but of course he was forced to join the game. In the end, they drank too much and could barely remember who won the gamble.  

Vergil doesn’t remember the details, but the last thing he knew was that the cards and the smell of alcohol were all over the place. The entire crew passed out. Succumbing to alcohol and an over-flowing fatherly instinct, Vergil moved Nero to the couch and put a pillow under the young devil hunter’s head. He said goodbye to Trish, who was half-asleep on the dining table. Then he dragged Dante with him, made a sloppy movement to create a portal to Devil May Cry before he eventually collapsed.

I shouldn’t have drunk that forsaken whiskey, Vergil curses himself.

The blue hybrid stretches his body and tries to get up feebly, kicking Dante’s waist. “Wake up, Dante. Don’t sleep on the floor.”

The younger twin replies with a soft snore.

Realizing that it’s going to be futile to wake Dante up, Vergil walks to the kitchen and grabs cold water from the refrigerator. His throat is dry and sore after swallowing too much whiskey. He empties half of the bottle while thinking about his weird dream again.  

“... Huston...” Dante murmurs in his sleep.

Vergil furrows his brow. “Who?”

“Play me... Elena Huston...”

Vergil puts the bottle on the table and back to Dante, grabbing his little brother’s ankle and drags him to Dante’s room clumsily. The alcohol still exists in his blood, making him slightly difficult to coordinate his movement. After struggling a little while to put the red devil on the bed and taking off his shoes, Vergil covers Dante’s body with a blanket. Foolish, meddlesome, slovenly little brother, Vergil grumbles, unaware of his opposite brotherly act of love he has done to Dante.

“Hey Verge...” Dante mumbles.

“What?”

“Thanks... you ... sleep... too...”

“Shut up, Dante. Just sleep.”

Vergil chuckles silently after watching Dante go back to unconsciousness. He laments the time gap between them. He didn’t have a chance to grow up together with his brother, but although he was indifferent to humanity, he secretly hoped that Dante was safe, wherever his brother would be. Even when he had defeated Dante for numerous times, he had never meant to kill him even for once.

Vergil cares for his brother more than he would ever admit.

He heads out from the room and takes a seat on the couch. When he’s about to take off his coat, he feels his phone is vibrating. He takes the phone to decline the call and shut the phone down, but Lyra’s name pops on the screen.

Coincidence?  

He picks the call.

“Vergil?”

“...”

“Vergil? Are you there?”

“I’m fine,” he replies, almost like a whisper. “Just a little... tipsy.”

Vergil hears her snorting. “I thought you hated alcohol? You said it makes you lose your control or whatsoever.”

“Let’s just say the crews made me do it.”  

“Even Vergil Sparda couldn’t escape peer pressure, aye?”

A subtle smile appears on Vergil’s mouth. “This is midnight, Stardust. You should’ve slept.”

“I did. Then I woke up and couldn't sleep again. I remember you said cambions don’t need to sleep, so I reckon you are still awake. How was the party?”

“What can I say?” Vergil massages his brow, relieving the pain on it. “Kyrie loved my present. Nero was more talkative to me than usual. Dante was less annoying. For the first time since I came back from Underworld, Mary didn’t glare at me like she wanted to kill me. Trish was civil. Nicoletta still wants to touch Yamato. Morrison still insists to give me his cigarette. The three little rascals asked me to read them Animal Farm and they left early for bed.”

A mocking snort comes out from the librarian. “Normally you would say ‘ It’s fine’ or something like that, but now you bother to describe the entire events to me—not that I complained though—it just convinces me that Vergil Sparda is sloshed for real.”

“... I’m just... happy, I guess. That everything went well.”

“Glad to know it,” there’s a short pause before she continues to speak. “Hey... do you know that there's this flower called butterfly pea?”

“Consider this is the first time I heard that.”

“It’s originally from southeast Asia. It has a pretty blue colour and if we brew it, we can have a blue tea. Bought a jar of it from Chinatown. In fact, I’m thinking of brewing it now, and... I think it would be great if I drink it with a friend,” Lyra chuckles nervously. “Would you mind coming for a cuppa? I know it’s midnight and you’re inebriated right now but—”

“I accept the invitation.”

There’s a gasp. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I thought you would decline it, but never mind! See you very soon!”

Vergil looks at the phone screen blankly after Lyra hangs up the call. Sounds odd. This is the first time she invites me to her house. What if this invitation has something to do with my dream?  

He remembers Lyra’s statement that she doesn’t believe in coincidence. It’s all but synchronicity, she had said.  

Coincidence or not, he decides to leave anyway.

---

Lyra’s neighborhood is always quiet. Surrounded by meadows and woods, her house is secluded and quite far from the central city. No one would have thought that there’s a small cottage here and someone lives there. Lyra had said to him once that she wants to live in solitude and avoid having some neighbors, or else she would go crazy by neighbors’ endless thoughts.

The door opens immediately after Vergil knocks. Lyra’s tender face shows up, smiling at his presence. She wears an oversized blue sweater and long pajama pants. But that’s not his main concern at the moment—it’s her stature. The moonlight helps Vergil to look at her scrupulously and realizes that he has never noticed how pale Lyra’s fair skin is, like she hasn’t seen the sun for a long time. Along with her dark eyes and shady smile, anyone could mistake her as a vampire.

“Welcome to my small and humble cottage,” the librarian chuckles after examining the devil hunter in front of her. “You look fine for a drunken man.”

Vergil shrugs. “Cut it out, will you?”

“Just messing with you. Climb aboard.”

As he follows behind her to enter the house, Vergil’s cautious eyes wander off to the house’ interior. The house is small with a cozy living room attached to the kitchen. The two doors beside the living room are assumed by Vergil to be a bedroom and a bathroom. He walks to the windows framed with burgundy drapes; the lace inner curtains remain drawn, allowing moonlight to enter the house. There he can see Lyra’s small garden, blooming delicately under the night sky.

“I always fancy stargazer lilies and munstead wood rose.” Lyra says from the kitchen.

“They look exquisite,” Vergil murmurs. “I can smell the fragrance even from here.”

Vergil still stands in his place, watching the midnight breeze swing the flowers. Some of its petals have fallen to the ground. The next thing he sees is the butterflies flying around munstead wood roses. It’s rare to find butterflies in this metropolis. Knowing that there’s still beauty worth living, Vergil is grateful that he isn’t dead yet. He spent most of his lifetime isolating himself from the world, loathing the beauty inside it because he thought it was worthless.

He glances to the kitchen where Lyra puts the kettle on the stove and takes a jar— he presumes that it’s dried butterfly pea— but seems like she’s having a tough time opening it. Trying his best to keep his dignity by not mocking her adorable struggle, he approaches her and takes the jar.

“The strange and powerful human being with the ability to move every object only with her mind, couldn’t even open a goddamn jar.” Vergil remarks in sardonic tone. “Is this what you call friendship? Acting as your jar opener and transportation device?”

Lyra taps her chin. “Tut-tut, Vergil Sparda. You forgot ‘personal bodyguard’ and ‘heat provider’.”

“I’ve never thought that you’re such an opportunistic capitalist who used your friend for your convenience.”

“Says a megalomaniac who raised a demon tree to fight his brother only to be kicked in the arse by his son.”

“... that's... it won’t happen again,” Vergil looks away as he gives her the jar. “Nero hasn’t succeeded in defeating me since I came back from the Underworld."

“Sure~ I believe you.” The teasing tone in Lyra’s word says otherwise, much to Vergil’s dismay. He decides to help her prepare the cups rather than to continue their banter as she puts the dried butterfly pea flower into the teapot. Lyra had told him to let her do all the work, but she finally gives up after Vergil glares at her while cleaning the cups with a napkin.

“You finally made your dream come true.” Vergil says, putting cups on the saucers.  

“What dream?”

Vergil points at a 36-strings lever harp beside the table in front of the sofa.

“Oh!” Lyra exclaims, turning the stove off and brings the kettle on the countertop. “Couldn’t afford to buy pedal harp, so I’m quite satisfied to have this one. Sugar or lemon? Plain blue tea tastes super earthy, only if that’s your preference.”

“Just lemon. Thank you.”

“Okay. Have a seat on the sofa. I’ll bring the tea right there,” she says.

Vergil takes his time to observe the living room, which he finds odd since he entered this house. This house is too... plain. Except for the harp, a chess board, some Rubik cubes on the table and an old radio on the kitchen counter, there’s almost no personal touch in this house. No family pictures, trophies, or even a bookshelf.

Considering she’s a bookworm, that’s terribly odd. But as she said, this cottage is small. He tries to ignore his hunch and turns his focus to admire the lever harp, plucking the strings cautiously and listening to its mesmerizing sound.

“You like it?” Lyra asks while putting the tray on the table and pouring the tea to their cups.

“It's magnificent,” Vergil takes his seat. “Let’s see if you’re capable of playing this astonishing instrument.”

“Challenge accepted!” the librarian drags the harp to her side. “Happy or sad?”

The blue devil stays silent for a while, staring at the cold fireplace before he glances at the window, remembering the moment when Lyra greeted him under the fair moonlight, causing his old soul to demand something soothing and nostalgic. “Play me Clair de Lune.”

Lyra nods cheerfully. “Easy peasy.”

It’s such a picturesque scenery, to witness Lyra hold the harp like she was born to play it. It’s the same bewitching phenomenon as their little adventure a few days ago when they stargazed together to see the Lyrids. He’s bemused once he hears the strings from the lever harp plucked and formed a beautiful composition. The brighter and folksy sound from lever harp is different from the classic pedal harp, yet it doesn’t change the beauty and romantic tone from the song.

Vergil finds himself frozen under the spell— it’s not just the song, he muses. It’s her.

Your soul is a chosen landscape

Where charming masquerades and dancers are promenading

Playing the lute and dancing, and almost

Sad beneath their fantastic disguise s

While singing in a minor key

Of victorious love, and the pleasant life

They seem not to believe in their own happiness

And their song blends with the moonlight

With the sad and beautiful moonlight

Which sets the birds in the trees dreaming?

And makes the fountains sob with ecstasy

The slender water streams among the marble statues.

By the time when Lyra finally reaches the song’s outro, Vergil senses his body is less tense and his head gets back its clarity after succumbing to alcohol for hours. Her fingers are getting slower as she plucks the pin and a string for the last time, a satisfied smile appears on her face, “I like this song.”

“So do I.” Vergil agrees.

She giggles. “Next time, it’s your turn to play me a song. Dante told me that you’re a gifted violinist. He sent me a video of you playing Caprice 24 yesterday.”

Vergil covers his face with his palm. “Kindly remind me to kill him soon.”

“You play eloquently. You should be proud!” Lyra giggles and pours honey inside her cup.

“Silence,” Vergil put a slice of lemon on his tea, the tail of his eyes spy on Lyra. “Instead of flattering me, why don't we just straight to the business?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s obvious that you didn’t invite me just for a cup of tea and impromptu recital.”

The puzzled expression on Lyra’s face answers it all. She doesn’t say anything for a quiet long time, still stirring her tea as if she’s still preparing what to say to him. Vergil suspects she would avoid his question, but she just sighs and finally sips her own tea, “You’re right. But first, drink your tea.”

Her eyes fixate on his, as if she commands him to mimic her gesture. He has no choice but to obey, lifting his cup to his mouth and carefully taste the blue tea. He enjoys the mixture between the natural flavor from the tea and the acid from the lemon, slurping more of them to please his throat. He would enjoy the tea more if Lyra didn’t give him that hollow gaze, causing him to wonder if she put poison inside the tea and wait for him to collapse, but if there’s any poison inside the tea, he would find it out even before he drinks it.  

“What do you think?” She blows the steam from the tea.

“It’s good. Not too bitter, nor too bland.”

“Drink a little more, then.”

Again, Vergil obeys her.

Lyra puts her cup on the table. “It’s easy, doesn’t it?”

“What is it?”

“When I told you to drink, it was easier for you to drink it.”

“I don’t see why it should be difficult to drink it. It tastes good and it’s an act of courtesy.”

“An act of courtesy,” she smiles bitterly. “Oh yeah, it was easier for me too.”

Vergil puts his cup on the table with the intention to end Lyra’s vague trickery. The words he says next are full of certainty. “You had a dream of me.”

Her eyes are widened, but she already expects him to spill the question. She nods, her fingers trail on a Rubik's cube. “Twice. Weird, huh?”

“What did you dream about?”

“Last night? I was you, grieven by the death of your father. You wandered to your mother’s room and cried together inside a drawer with Dante. An hour ago, I was you again, chained up and this titanic, god-like demon tortured you and called you ‘disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda’. I think it was Mundus.”

“That’s bizarre. I believe I haven’t told you about Dante and I inside the drawer. And that was what Mundus exactly told me when he tortured me in the Underworld.”

“What about you? Did you dream of me?”

“I did,” he admits. “I’m afraid I failed to understand the context, since you haven’t told me any single things about you.”

“Fair enough. In that case...” she holds her breath while solving the cube. “What did you see?”

“I believe I was on your point of view when the dream occurred. You were gravely ill and your mother tended you. I still can recall how bad your headache was from that dream. Then Asteria—  your mother—  read you The Hobbit . In that dream, I didn’t know who she was, until you mentioned her name this afternoon. I decided to not bring it up to you until I found out why I dream about something I’ve never experienced and why it was about you.”

“The dream, then,” she continues. “Have you seen another one after that?”

He shakes his head. “None whatsoever.”

“Really?”

Sorry, Lyra. “Yes. Why?”

“... nothing. A lot of weird things have happened since our accidental mind link. The dreams must be our memories. Let's say the dream was our brain projection of what we’ve told each other about our past, then how could we feel the pain we’ve never experienced before? How could I know the face of the demon I’ve never met before? I got a hypothesis that whenever I dream of you, you must’ve dreamt about me. But this time you didn’t dream of me while I dreamt of you. Seems like it doesn’t work like that...”

The sound of clicking cube stops at once, making Vergil wonder whether she stopped the cube because of his answer or she has solved the cube since all the layers are already in the right places.  

“I was sickly back then. Could barely leave my bed,” Lyra says, showing him the cube. “And this was the only thing I could do, aside from reading.”

Vergil receives the cube. “I saw plenty of this thing in my dream.”

She rests her back on the head of the couch. “What do you think of my mother?”

“She seems caring and nurturing.”

“Do you love your mother?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course.”

“I’m glad that you do.”

“You don’t love your mother?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, her eyes are dreary. She lifts her feet on the couch and moves her body to face the devil. “I don’t want to lie to you, Vergil.”

“Then don’t. We promised to not lie to each other.”

She chuckles coldly. “Where should I begin... oh right, I told you I was sickly. Mum said I got this rare genetic disorder called severe combined immunodeficiency. SCID made me extremely vulnerable of diseases. Therefore, I should live in a sterile and isolated environment. I could barely leave my own house, couldn’t even open the window just to smell my garden. Didn’t get a chance to meet new people other than my mother, my nurse— I forgot her name, I never liked her anyway— and my governess, Norma.”

Lyra closes her eyes for a while before she continues. “She was a great scientist. She was the smartest person I’ve ever known. She was the one who made me in love with astronomy. I could only see her infamous work on telly and newspapers. Some days, there were people who came to visit us and talked to mum. They were forbidden to meet me because of my condition. Some of them left me notes and little presents, wishing me good health. They told my mum to have faith and carry on. And whenever my mum had to attend international conferences, she cried so much a day before her flight because she had to leave me, even though Norma was there with me.”

“What about your father?”

“Never knew him. Mum was never married. She always looked blue whenever I asked her about my father, so I stopped asking.”

Lyra clenches her hand before taking the Rubik cube from Vergil’s hand and begins to play it again. “We only had each other, that means we need to protect each other. I never questioned anything because she took care of me and devoted on me. If it wasn’t my mother, who else wanted to take care of me? I liked Norma, but she was paid for nursing me. She could leave anytime soon, but not my mum. She was the only family I had, and I loved her.”

Lyra gazes at Vergil, whose face is straight still without any meaningful reactions. “I ate and slept as ordered. Took my medicines. Never once went outside the house. I did exactly what my mum instructed. But one day I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt dizzy almost every day. I threw up a lot. Sometimes I couldn’t even move my own body. I didn’t feel any better, just getting worse day by day. I felt like I could die any time.”

She shuffles the cube again after solving it. “One day, I stopped taking all of it.”

“The medicines.” Vergil emphasizes, remembering the nasty smell of medicine in his dream.

Lyra nods. “No matter how persistent Mum’s and the nurse' persuasion, I didn’t take it. I just wanted it to be over. Then something unexpected happened,” she lets out a small grin. “I was getting better. Much better. I could walk without taking a deep breath anymore. I went to the garden without having a nosebleed. I didn’t throw up. My headache was gone. I felt like I was... reborn.”

Lyra takes another deep breath; her hands stop shuffling the cube. “I never said it out loud, but Mum was sick. Very sick,” she taps her head with her index finger. “Mentally.”

Vergil tilts his head. That’s unexpected. “What makes you think so?”

The librarian puts the cube on the table, leaving it unsolved. “Any time I refused to take medicine or disobeyed her, she distanced herself from me. She didn’t reciprocate everything I did. She was just going straight inside her room and locked the door. It was almost like she resented me— no, punishing me for disobeying her. She loved playing this guilt-trip game so much. It seems like she liked it whenever she succeeded to make me think that I was a worthless daughter.”

“I know there are parents who treat their children poorly and abusively,” Vergil contemplates. “But I’m afraid I still couldn’t comprehend why your mother did that to you. You were only a child. A terribly ill child. She should’ve been happy instead of punishing you for your better condition. I understand that we could never judge a book by its cover, but… in my dream, she seemed like... she loved you wholeheartedly. Why would she want to hurt her own daughter?"

Lyra hugs her knees. “When someone keeps putting a person in ugly circumstances, I can only think that it’s either out of hatred or love.”

“Why would you put the person you love in such circumstances?”

“Love can be... poisonous,” Lyra stares blankly at the ceiling. “It’s always easier to hurt someone you hate. It makes more sense. But if you love someone, you’d do anything for them, even if it’s beyond logic, consciously or not. You’d call it kindness and love, but it’s actually poison. You hurt your beloved ones and say that you do that because you love them. You keep them close to you, shower them your love until they’re blind by your love and never find the help they really need...”

Noticing her body begins to shiver, Vergil takes off his coat and wraps it around Lyra’s body to keep her comfortable. He couldn’t help but empathized with her. She’s as confused as he is about human emotions, which is surprising. She always looks so confident, like there’s no obstacle that could damage her. But now while she slowly reveals her past, she looks extremely vulnerable. It makes Vergil want to help her somehow, even just to calm her down.

“Here,” Vergil says, hesitantly offers his hand. “Just until you feel better.”

Lyra’s anxiety gradually calms down as their hands are attached. Vergil’s gloved palm is hard as steel—one squeeze can crush her bone, yet she can only feel the warmth between their entangled hands.

She lets out a sad smile. How long has it been since the last time someone holds my hand?  

“Do you feel better now?” Vergil finally breaks the ice.

“A little,” Lyra agrees. “Although I must admit, this is awkward.”

Vergil closes his eyes and chuckles as he rests his body on the head of the sofa. “I don’t know what madness leads me to do this. Perhaps it’s because of you. You are a terrible influence for me.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your best friend!”

“How unfortunate.”

With their hands still attached, Lyra lowers the coat from her head, revealing threads of her golden brunette hair, shifting her body to lean on the sofa. “Have you ever heard about Munchausen syndrome?”

“A mental disorder in which a person deliberately malingering?”

“Yup. And there is another one called Munchausen by proxy. Means the caregiver is the one who fakes the illness in a person under their care.”

“You mean...”

Lyra scoffs bitterly. “I know one should not self-diagnose without proper professional assessment. Mum was never clinically diagnosed, nor that people noticed her traits. They only knew her as a devoted mother and a great scientist. But I’m the one who lived under the same roof with her and I knew her better than anyone else. I could give you examples of how much my mother loved me”

“There was one time after my refusal to take my medicines, she humiliated me in front of her colleagues,” she continues with a calmer voice. “I was helping her to arrange a bouquet of roses to be placed at the living room. It was unusual that she allowed me to do the ‘hard work’. I did what she asked. I wanted to please her, just to see her smile again. I wanted her to look at me as her daughter, not a failure. I cut the roses diligently, and my fingers were bleeding because I was careless. I didn’t know that Mum brought her colleagues home, and they saw my bleeding fingers. She went nuts when she saw my fingers, scolded me for touching the roses. She said rubbish like, ‘I told you to not touch them!’ ‘Why are you so careless?’ ‘Oh, my poor, darling baby’ while her colleagues gave us the pity look as Mum brought me to my chamber, tended my wounds exaggeratedly, telling me that the pain will be gone soon and the wounds won’t leave any scratches. I was going to ask her why she lied to her colleagues but she kept shushing me like I’m a bloody idiot. I was confused, like, what did I do wrong?”

Lyra glances at Vergil, whose eyes are fixated to the fireplace in a silent rage. “You might’ve thought I was too naïve to indulge her unhealthy behaviour.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You were too weak and innocent to defend yourself,” the door to Vergil’s memory palace where his darkest memories are stored is widely opened. “It sounds like self-justification, but we were just children. We couldn’t have known the cause of what was happening back then. You didn’t deserve everything your mother did to you.”

The contemplative words from Vergil slightly lightens the weight on Lyra’s shoulders. Her solemn smile emphasizes her hidden sadness and weariness. “At those days, I thought she was just knackered, or in a bad mood. Maybe she really worried about me. Maybe I was too stubborn and that made her gutted, so I endured. I took those bloody medicines because it was easier for me. She was so happy and for a moment, I thought I was happy too. Took it longer for me to realize that I was frightened, but I had no options but obeyed her.”

Vergil remains silent whilst feeling Lyra’s thumb tapping on the back of his hand. He waits patiently for her to gather herself before she mumbles quietly. “I’ve been wondering too... why would anyone want to go back to the person who hurt them?”  

“Violence often acts in a cycle,” Vergil squeezes her hand lightly as a reassurance. “Once the perpetrator realized their mistake, they would beg for forgiveness. Some people mean it, some people don’t,” he sighs deeply, carefully putting his words together. “You thought by forgiving your mother, she could change for the better. That forgiveness would improve your relationship with her. You came back to her, sacrificing your safety and well-being to seek her love and comfort. She planted the fear inside you. It was a wheel you couldn’t escape. But you were never a fool for coming back to her. You loved her and you were a child who had no one to have your back but your mother. Even when your expectation failed you, you could only rely on her. ”

“I tried to break the wheel,” Lyra pulls away their hands and cups her face, sliding it to her head like she had a headache. “There were countless times when I thought about running away. But it never happened. I couldn’t even survive five minutes outside. If I told anyone about my suspicion of Mum’s actions on me, they would never believe me and call me a spoiled child instead. Norma was the only person who believed me. She was trying to help me, like quietly flushing the medicines whenever I couldn’t take it anymore. Then she was fired shortly after she spoke to Mum about her nonsensical punishment to me.”

Lyra bites her lips. “It seemed like Mum tried to cut every string with Norma. I never heard about her anymore. Never found her phone number or address. There was a time when I missed her but I couldn’t contact her. She was the only person who believed me and my mother took her away from me because Norma defended me from Mum’s fucked up behaviour.”

A sting of familiar dread creeps inside Vergil’s bone, despite his awareness that it wasn’t his own fear but residues from his first dream about Lyra. He remembers his futile effort to move the body and the way Asteria’s calm yet terrifying gaze at him when she feeds him. The unpleasant sound from the friction between the spoon and the bowl... Asteria’s shady voice as she told him her worries...

“I told you I never knew exactly when I acquired my power, right? Because as long as I remember, I always had this power from the very beginning. I knew what pawn Norma would pick whenever we played chess. I knew the next word my mother was going to say. There were times I accidentally moved things even without touching them. I thought I was just imagining things,” Lyra fixes Vergil’s coat. “Therefore, when Mum scolded me again, I felt my wrath burning and something inside me burst out. I was shocked because suddenly almost anything inside my bedroom was dropped—the books, the toys, the lamps. Mum was pale and silent like a ghost while staring at the mess, until the nurse came. She glared at me like I was a freak and the last thing I remember was I woke up and was unable to move my body. I suspected Mum had me drugged again to prevent me causing havoc. She still had the audacity to act normal, even read me The Hobbit like yesterday was nothing.”

Vergil’s icy eyes get wider slightly. “The event in my dream...”

“Now you know,” Lyra giggles but her face stays impassive. “Then a month later, there came the moment when we both fell.”

Vergil straightens up his body. The picture of his second dream of her comes up in his mind. The same soulless eyes that he saw back then when there was a murder in the library a few months ago appear once more on Lyra. Somehow, Vergil knows where this conversation is heading and he knows he won’t like it. “What do you mean by 'we’ ?”

The pure honesty in Lyra’s eyes makes Vergil’s blood curdle. “I told you, didn’t I? I don’t want to lie to you.”

---

It was the end of the fall season when six-years old Lyra woke up from her slumber. She glanced at the clock on the wall, grinning unconsciously. They say 3 o’clock in the morning is devil’s hour. Unable to go back to sleep, she grabbed her mauve cardigan and decided to take a little detour to the balcony. I could find some autumn constellation, she thought with excitement. She remembered her mother hadn’t packed the cool and sophisticated telescope she had always admired since the very first time Asteria brought it home, and she left it on the balcony this afternoon.

Little Lyra succeeded sneaking out from her bedroom. The mouthful and annoying nurse was nowhere to be seen. She was sure that Asteria is already sleeping. Lately, Asteria didn’t show her ‘lunatic’ nature to Lyra, which Lyra was grateful for. So when she found Asteria on the balcony, Lyra’s excitement instantly turned into fear. Her mother stood with her hands on the balustrade. The telescope was still there, but it seems like Asteria hadn’t used it again since the afternoon. Thinking that her mother wouldn’t notice her presence, Lyra tip-toed to going back to her chamber, but Asteria saw her and startled. It was almost like Asteria scared of being caught on the balcony.

“Solstice?” Asteria gasped. “Why do you— oh, never mind. You must be here to stargaze, aren’t you? Come here, sweets.” A warm smile appeared on her face as she sat on the chair and fixed the telescope.

Lyra’s fight or flight instinct soared up. It was already horrible to think her mother would scold her for sneaking from her bed, but the sullen face of Asteria was unsettling. It looked like she was able to burst any time soon.

“Come on,” Asteria insisted. “Look, there is Andromeda!”

Without making any sound, Lyra climbed on her mother’s lap timidly. Asteria told her to peek into the eyepiece, which Lyra reluctantly did.

“What do you think?” asked Asteria.

“Beautiful,” Lyra said. “But I don’t understand.”

“About what?”

“The pattern. Andromeda doesn’t look like she was chained. More like she fell from the sky and died on the ground.”

Asteria chuckled. “As per usual, sweets. You have a vivid imagination.”

“I just don’t like that story. It was Andromeda’s parents’ fault, but she was the one who got sacrificed.”

“The gods punished her parents too.”

“Yet the gods placed them among the stars. It’s not fair.” Lyra murmured.

“Well, it’s mythology,” Asteria caressed Lyra’s hair. “On the other side, I think Cassiopeia loved her daughter. Too much that she got the audacity to boast about Andromeda’s beauty. If she were really that self-centred, she’d boasted her own beauty instead.”

Lyra’s small hands adjusted the focusing knob slowly. “If she really loved her, she would think for her daughter’s safety.”

It took Asteria a quite long time to respond. She hugged her little daughter from behind, resting her head on Lyra's crown and massaging Lyra’s shoulders. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? It’s cold here.”  

Mummy sounds tired, Lyra noticed. Yet asking questions right now wouldn’t be the best choice. Asteria gave her a good night kiss lightly before letting Lyra off from her lap.

“You’re right. Cassiopeia’s pride put her daughter in danger,” Asteria said, cuddling her daughter tightly. “I love you, Solstice. I’m sorry for everything.”

What was that? Lyra felt an itchy ache somewhere in her heart by just listening to her apology, but Asteria just smiled as if she had never said anything. She waved at her, telling her wish for Lyra to have a sweet dream.

Lyra walked away from her mother with heavy steps, despite her wish to stay a little bit longer. Asteria seemed to be in a good mood this time, and that tender side of her melted Lyra’s heart. She’s her mother, after all. She couldn’t help but love her unconditionally. I hope I don’t agitate her, she hoped as she turned her direction to enter the balcony again, planning to beg to stay for a while.

But when she turned around, the horror already waited for her there.

Lyra was screaming like a wild animal as she ran and ran...

“MUMMY!!!!!”

… towards Asteria, who jumped from the balustrade.

Don’t leave me here! Lyra’s body felt like it was burning in blaze. She could feel an overwhelming power within her burst out. Please God, let me use that power again!  

Her breath got heavier as she jumped from the guardrail and reached her hand to her mother with a hope to save her. It felt like eternity when she realized that her mother was floating on the air instead of falling. With an eerie face, Asteria screamed her daughter’s name while she was brought by an invisible force to the rooftop again.

I did it! Lyra thought cheerfully, but not for long because she quickly realized her mysterious power didn’t bring her to the balcony too. She tried to focus on herself, doing whatever she can to release her power again. She knew her power was still raw and immature. She had planned to practice secretly tomorrow, but she had no idea that things would go south like this. The first was always luck or coincidence, Norma had said to Lyra when she found out Lyra’s little secret. But there will be no more luck for the second time. There is no such thing as coincidence, but synchronicity...

While Lyra was still thinking about why her power didn’t work, her body crushed on the ground violently.

She was sure she heard the sound of her fractured bones.

She had never experienced that kind of pain before. All those side effects from her medicines was nothing compared to this one. The pain gradually ended as the numbness consumed her body. She looked at the sky, thinking how poetic her fall was under the fair moonlight with her motionless body. She was sure she saw Asteria on the balcony, shrieking and saying something she could not comprehend. Why did she jump? Was that because of me? Maybe because I made Mummy angry again... maybe afterlife seems better than living with me...

Lyra was willing to go. Afterall, she was sick of being isolated. Death seems promising. At least she would be free from medicine and endless hope for getting a healthy body. I look like Andromeda , she thought as she felt her eyes getting heavier. Like someone lying dead on the ground.  

She knew it’s time to go when her eyelids could barely manage to stay open. She hoped Asteria would live a better world without her. If only she could laugh right now, she would do it for the last time, so she wouldn’t feel too bitter about death.

Mum—  

Unfortunately, she never got a chance to think further. The only thing she saw before she lost her consciousness was her mother climbing up the balustrade again, this time to follow her daughter to death.

---

“Stardust?”

The gentle voice of Vergil startles Lyra back to reality. She doesn’t know how long the time has passed since she told him how her mother died. The long, buried weariness and sadness inside her consumes her like she has just released a huge burden from her body at once.

“Sorry, I was preoccupied with my own head.” Lyra scratches her right ankle, a habit she couldn’t let go since that tragic day. “You alright?”

“I was supposed to be the one who asked,” the blue devil says. “Are you sure you’re going to continue? We could discuss this later.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just adjusting myself because I’ve never opened up to anyone else before,” Lyra continues, ignoring Vergil’s pity look. “Anyway, after that, I woke up in the local hospital. They said my nurse heard my mother’s scream and went to check. That was how she found us and called the ambulance. When we reached the hospital, they said they couldn’t save us. They went insane because suddenly my heart started beating again in an hour. They put me under intensive care for three months. I got severely broken bones and head trauma—I needed to do a couple more surgeries and physiotherapy. They said it was a miracle for me to survive and recover rapidly.”

“That must have something to do with your power.” Vergil adds.

“That’s very likely. I woke up hearing voices and seeing things I wasn’t supposed to be. I thought I was just dreaming, but day by day I spent my time hospitalized, I knew it was real. Those voices and images were people’s thoughts,” Lyra chuckles with irony on her lips. “It was already too much for me to read minds at once, and then I found out that my mother died. I saved her life just for giving her a chance to jump again.”

She sounds ireful rather than sad, Vergil suspects. He can’t deny his instinct to not let his attention to Lyra’s right ankle, which he stores his suspicion for a long time.

“One day, Mum’s lawyer came to visit me at the hospital. She said since I’m an orphan and have no relatives, she will act as my guardian and I’ll receive inheritance whenever I reach legal age. The whole ‘guardian’ part was just formality because she’ll send me to an orphanage once I get discharged from hospital. Even I knew what she had stored in mind before she started to speak. But that didn’t really concern me,” Lyra takes a deep breath and exhales. Her expression is slightly twisted as she telekinetically raises a Rubik's cube and tears every cube apart before she smashes them into flakes.

What in the seven hells— “Lyra?” Vergil calls her, but the word seems unreachable to her.

“I was going to forgive my mother because I wanted her to rest in peace, yet again she proved it to me that she was a fucking devil.”

Another cube is crushed, followed by a loud cracking sound from the teacup.

“The lawyer couldn’t bear to tell me this, but she found fake prescriptions of my daily medicines and a drawer full of placebo pills in my mother’s room. The doctors told her that they found traces of placebo pills and a very tiny dose of rat poison inside me. A. Fucking. Rat. Poison—”

The radio on the kitchen counter starts playing by itself, followed by a loud bang from Lyra’s front door.

“It was all placebo. There was never a fucking SCID nor fucking illness. I was perfectly fine from the start! The only reason why I always felt sick was because of that rat poison and abominable suggestions from that fucking b—”

Vergil grips her shoulder. “Lyra, you will destroy the entire house. Please stay calm.”  

The view of her floating table pulls Lyra back to the earth. She startles at first, but it doesn’t last as she finally gathers herself and puts the table back to the ground. The bleak on her face remains while she tightens up Vergil’s coat. “Sorry.”

“I told you to stop earlier.”

“I can never be ready to tell you the truth unless I do it right now.”

“Fine, but if I notice even a small sign of you going berserk again, we have to stop this conversation.”

“Deal.”

“Good. Then, did the nurse have any knowledge about the poisoning?”

Lyra shakes her head in disappointment. “She claimed that Mum just gave her my medical certificate and records, which the lawyer found to be fake. Mum made up those records as if they were authorized by a credible health facility. She made up things and fucked up my life for Hell knows what she was up to. Then she just fucking died and leaving me alone without any explanation on everything.”

Vergil wipes his face in frustration, This is more messed up than I thought it would be.  

Lyra lets out a rugged laugh. “You know what happened next. The media never told people how my mother died.”

“That’s what I always thought to be very suspicious. They can’t just spread false rumour. There’s evidence, witnesses and statements from the police and hospital.”

“All I could think was that Asteria Crescent was an infamous astrobiologist with great reputation. Imagine if the world knew this brilliant person was a mad woman who poisoned her own daughter. That would destroy the reputation of academical world. Her good legacy must be remembered.”

“... Was that really easy for humans to alter the truth?”

The librarian laughs bitterly. “They do it all the time, Vergil. It’s easier than you think it is. Money talks louder than words. They must’ve silenced Mum’s lawyer too since she said nothing about the truth to me. I tried to tell them that my mother was insane and that wasn’t how she died, but they thought I was the one who lost my mind. PTSD, head trauma, reconstructed memory, call it what you want. I don’t know who started it, why and how, but they closed the case.”

“But who were these people? Why did such a grandiose plan just to cover up a scientist’s death?”

“Who knows. There’s always someone behind the stage.”

“And they really sent you to an orphanage?”

“Yes, maybe to shut my mouth. Mum’s lawyer managed my financial support, but she never showed up at the orphanage.”

Lyra bites her lips, like she doesn’t know how to continue and stumbles over her own words. She scratches her right ankle again. “Kids in the orphanage used to tease me for limping whenever I walked. It’s odd for me, even until now. The doctor said I had fully recovered, just needed to adjust myself to the outside world since I stayed indoors for too long. But the sore thing in my ankle here never really disappears. I never found out why. All doctors I’ve consulted with said despite the fading scar on the skin, my ankle is perfectly fine and should’ve been functional. People couldn’t even see me limping, at least until a certain sulky devil spotted it.”

“I’m not sulky.”

“The more you deny it, the more it’s true.”

“Your logical fallacy amuses me.”

A relieved laugh comes out from Lyra. “You got me there.”

With the smile on her face blooming again, Vergil feels a towering wave of unpleasant ache filling his whole heart. Right now, he can grasp the reason why Lyra acts too secretive. He knows that burden very well; to be unable to trust anyone but themselves. Lyra has never received the real love from her mother, which was different from Vergil. Her childhood and self-esteem were stolen from her own kin. That is also the reason why Lyra can easily understand him, despite his despicable sins. Lyra has already had the power and was able to save her mother, yet in the end Asteria chose to kill herself. Contrary to Vergil, who even had demon power since birth, but he couldn’t save his mother from her doom. His love for his family was Vergil’s motivation to gain more power, which is a total opposite from Lyra who hates her mother and resents her power. They are two sides of the same coin.

“Terra to Vergil?” Lyra snaps her fingers in front of Vergil’s face.

“Pardon me,” Vergil says. “I was just contemplating.”

“About what?”

“About how humans can be so much worse than demons. No offense.”

“None had taken.”

The blue devil hesitates before he asks. “How... How did you cope from that?”

“Hmmm...” Lyra mumbles and sighs heavily. “It’s not easy. It still affects me in a way. I grew up thinking that people can’t be trusted. Telepathy made it worse. I hesitate to live, but I don’t want to die either. It’s difficult to form any connection, no matter how much effort I took to fit in. I’m not even sure myself whether this is the real me or I’m just a skilled imitator who fits people’s expectations.”

She smiles, this time the gloom on her lips is fading. “I met people who were sincerely decent and empathetic. But somehow, I just couldn’t bring myself to open up and let them enter my circle. I used to blame my mum for this trust issue, but lately I suspect it was on me.”

“You’re not the one to blame, Lyra.”

Lyra shakes her head. “I choose to leave them before they get too close to me.”

“Because you don’t want people to see your scar?”

“I thought the reason I’m pulling myself from society was because I’m afraid that I’d get hurt. Took me a long time to realize that I’m worried that I’d hurt people. That’s what you got when you have a telepath as your friend. You’d get caught in endless insecurity of having your minds in constant danger, while I really don’t want to read one. If only Sparda’s magic didn’t protect you and Dante, you’d leave me since day one.”

“I won’t.”

“Mundus screwed up your brain, Vergil. You have a thousand reasons for hating telepaths.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I saw your dreams. I know how much you want to kill those who fucks with you.”

“And I saw yours too, Lyra. I know how much you hate your mother, but deep down you still love her. Even since you saw her falling from the balcony.”

The realization hits her hard. “Wait— you knew this all along?!”

“Forgive me, but you won’t tell me the truth unless I told you a white lie. Your hypothesis is true; that our dreams occurred simultaneously.”

“You—” Lyra glares at Vergil like he has done treacherous betrayal, but she gathers herself up since she knows she was the one who lied to him first. She can’t deny that everything he said was true. It has been said that the dead won’t stay only if the living sets them free. For Lyra, it jabs her heart whenever she tries to brush that fact away. She knows that her hatred would rot her soul, yet it’s difficult to forgive her mother, who had tried to end her life multiple times.

“I envy you, Vergil,” Lyra confesses. “You were an arsehole evil lord back then, but you had a reasonable motive for fighting. You have a family. I got none. I don’t see the point of keep going on. Everyone wants me dead.”

“People are afraid of what they don’t understand,” Vergil states without any doubts in his voice. “It’s understandable since you’re undeniably enigmatic and can be threatening. But my fool brother of mine was right; strength is a choice. You choose to be strong to prevent more loss. You have every right to live, for death is the end. Make a full life while it lasts.”

“I wonder if I had such a reason to stay.”

Vergil straightens up his seat with a wary and cautious expression. “Sometimes… It doesn’t have to be something big. “

“Such as?”

“I don’t know…” he chuckles half-heartedly. “Don’t you have something to cherish for? Something that makes you willing to trade your life with?”

“Hmmm…. I love my job. I love books and the stars. But I don’t think I’d give up my life for that...” Lyra hums indifferently. “I think not. Nothing very important in particular.”

“There are things that could be important, but not everything important is worth cherishing.”

“What makes it different?”

“As time goes on, important things could become less important. The urgency wears off,” Vergil says quietly as he curves a faint smile, reminiscing his bonding time with Nero. “But something precious, something you hold dear most... you will suffer when they are taken from you.”

“Something precious, huh...?” Lyra’s eyes wander off, her voice is softer than a whisper. “Like... you...?”

Vergil almost gets choked by his own breath. “Beg your pardon?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing!”

“I’m certain that you said something.”

“If you’re so certain about that, why can’t you listen and repeat back what I said?”

“Because I couldn’t hear that properly!”

“Your loss.”

“You meddlesome creature.”

“You angry kitten.” Lyra holds her mouth to prevent her laughter from going too loud.

Vergil glares at her. “What did you just call me?!”

“Nothing~ I’m sleepy~” Lyra stretches her arms, the corner of her eyes flashes a mischief as she glances to the oblivious Vergil. “Those self-help books were right. It’s relieving to have the right person to share the burden with—”

“Don’t you dare try to change the topic. If you ever call me an angry kitten again—”

“We’re still talking about that? Bloody hell, Vergil, I’m just kidding!” Lyra holds his palms and takes off his gloves. “Come on, we need to rest. You might be sober now but even the strongest demon needs to sleep.”

A light crumple curves on Vergil’s forehead. “Why do you take my gloves off?”

“Do you have a habit to keep your gloves on while sleeping?”

“Hold on,” Vergil hesitates as he pulls his hand. “You want me to sleep here? In your house?”

“Yup.”

“You know that it’s not… very decent for an unmarried woman and a man to stay under the same roof.”

“Since when do you care about custom?”

“I’m not necessarily care about customs,” Vergil grunts. “It’s your convenience that I’m concerned about.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Lyra cleans up the table and waves her hand to send the tray to the dishwasher before making her way to the bedroom. “But my sofa is too small for you, and considering I have a quite spacious bed that fits two people, I don’t see any reasons why I would let my friend freeze on the sofa.”

Lyra opens the door, glancing at Vergil and tilts her head as a sign for him to follow her into the bedroom.

~~~

A/N : the poem mentioned in this chapter is “Clair de Lune” by Paul Verlaine, which is the inspiration for Claude Debussy’s Clair de Lune

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @shiranyaaww  @queenmuzz @rubixa-seraph @andieperrie18

If you love my works and want to support me, kindly donate me on my Ko-Fi! :3

Masterlist | AO3

[prettyboongi]

BTS Reaction: They React To You Speaking A Different Language (When Waking Up/Falling Asleep)

[Note: Hi readers! This fanfic is inspired by my very first request! And hopefully it won’t be the last. To be honest, this request was pretty challenging and it took me awhile to figure out how to go about it. At the end, I decided not to specify the language that Y/N speaks since I don’t want to alienate anyone. This one is definitely less than perfect, so constructive criticism is welcomed. But I do hope that you guys (especially the requester ^_-) enjoy it! Peace!]

Seokjin 

You and Jin absolutely loved your "Movie Night Fridays”. Not only do you two get to spend quality time together, you two also took turns when it comes to picking that night’s movie. And tonight was your turn - your pick: an underrated animated Disney flick - and you were excited. 

However, there was one issue at hand: you were unbelievably exhausted. All day, you were busy helping your best friend move into her new place and you didn’t anticipate her having so many things to take with her. Common sense tells you you should just turn in early but you decided against it. Especially knowing that Jin himself will be super busy the entire weekend. 

As you two were watching the film, you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier. It also didn’t help that you were extremely cozy in your favorite sweatpants and hoodie while snuggled under Jin’s soothing arm. Jin was unaware of your internal battle as he was too invested in the movie. It wasn’t until he heard you softly snoring that he attention was brought to you. 

He gently shook up your shoulder and said in a low voice, “Hey honey, wake up. Let’s get you to bed.” In response you mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch. “Hmm?”

Half awake, you started whining something in your native tongue, which at first confuses Jin since he had no clue what you were saying. But as you collapsed into his lap and immediately fell back to sleep, he couldn’t help but smile at your vulnerable state. 

“You’re too cute, Y/N,” Jin says to himself. He then turns off the movie and carefully carries you to bed. 

Yoongi

It was a calm, lazy Sunday afternoon when you and Yoongi decided to take a nice nap together. Well, it was calm before your slumber was interrupted by the sound of Yoongi’s phone. Despite its blaring sound, Yoongi was still peacefully asleep, like the lazy cat that he is. 

Annoyed and still heavy with sleep, you grabbed Yoongi’s phone and turned to shake him awake. Still not waking up, you get even more annoyed and start yelling at him as you shake him even harder. Without noticing, you yelled for him to wake up in your native language, which startled him as he finally woke up. It takes him a few seconds to register what was going on but pieces everything together with the sound of his ringtone and disgruntled expression on your face. 

Once Yoongi takes the phone from you and leaves for the other room, you lay back in bed and, in no time, continue your nap. 

Hoseok 

��Ugh, why is he taking so long?!.” you angrily say to yourself, sitting patiently on the couch. 

You were waiting for Hoseok to come back home from picking up food at your favorite restaurant. And honestly, you felt like he was taking a little too long with the food. Your precious food. You tried calling him to see what was the hold up but no answer from him. 

“I’m starving,” you whined in your head. You realized that whining and being angry wasn’t going to make the food immediately arrive, so you tried your best to relax. You laid down on your sofa, your head comfortably on a soft throw pillow and closed your eyes. You focused on your breathing for a few minutes which definitely helped calm your nerves. It also helped you pass out right on the couch. 

“Hey sorry babe,” Hoseok says as he walks into the apartment, setting the containers of takeout on the kitchen counter. “They made a mistake with our order, that’s why the wait was long. And I know I would be the one to suffer if I brought home the wrong food,” he trails as he realized he was talking to himself. “Y/N?” he calls out with no answer. He walks around the apartment, only finding you moments later, snoozing on the couch. 

“Awwww,” he coos while walking towards you. He then shakes you gently to wake you up, “Baby, the food’s here.”

You stir a bit before propping yourself up with your left elbow. Still half asleep, you look at Hoseok with drowsy eyes and softly mutters a phrase in your mother’s tongue. You weren’t fully aware of what you were saying but that didn’t stop it from stirring a certain feeling in Hoseok. Despite you rarely speaking your native language around him, it drove him crazy of how deep and sultry your voice sounded while speaking. In other words, it turned him on quite a bit. 

He took your dozy face and kissed you passionately, fully waking you up now. You broke away from his lips and said, “What about the food?” Hoseok looked at you with hungry eyes and replied with, “A little more waiting couldn’t hurt.”

Namjoon

 “You said that you’d take a break and take me out to lunch,” you said to Namjoon. 

You have been hanging out with Namjoon at his studio, as he was working on the groups’ upcoming album. Initially thinking it would be fun to spend some time with your loving boyfriend, witnessing his genius at work, you were just bored out of your mind. As an excuse to get out of the stuffy studio, you suggested he’d take a break and go to a nearby cafe together. But if Namjoon was known for one thing, it was his extreme perfectionism.  

“And I told you I will, once I was done with this song,” Namjoon answered back, keeping his eyes on the computer screen. 

“You also said that two hours ago!,” you whimper. 

“Be patient, my pet. I swear I’m almost done, then we can go.” 

You wanted to take his word but it’s really hard to, especially since you’ve been waiting on him for so long. But you didn’t want to leave him; any opportunity to hang out with Joon, you took it no matter what. The only thing you could do was jst to wait. 

You sat on the couch opposite from him and laid your head on the armrest. While you weren’t necessarily sleepy, the sound of Namjoon tinkling away on his computer combined with the soft glow that illuminated the studio made you feel relaxed. You eyes soon began to flutter and you found yourself drifting off to sleep. 

Not noticing that you were dozing off, Namjoon asks, “So which cafe did you want to go to: the one in the building or down the street?”  

You weren’t fully fast asleep yet and caught his question in time. However, while in your sleepy state, you answer him in your native language. 

Namjoon stopped what he was doing for a moment. Even though he understood what you said since he was pretty fluent in the language himself, he was confused since you two never used it with each other. 

“Why are you speaking in…,” he begins as he looks back to you, trailing off once he finds you asleep on the couch. He contemplates waking you up or leaving you alone to nap, but he ultimately chooses the former. He knew how much you wanted to spend some time together and didn’t want to disappoint you. 

He walks over to you and light taps on your shoulder, walking you up. “Ready to go?” he playfully asks you. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you only reply with a smile on your face. 

Jimin 

After finishing a recent comeback, the guys thought it would do them good to take a small vacation and decided to stay in LA for a little bit. Despite having so much fun with everyone, visiting historical landmarks and stopping by so many food stops, Jimin really missed you and wished that you were with him. He offered to fly out where he was but you had other important obligations to take care of. 

“Don’t worry about me, Jimin. Go ahead and have fun with the others,” he remembers you saying to him the last time you two spoke on the phone. He tried his best to keep his mind off you, but so many things made him think of you. “I wonder if Y/N has ever heard of this place?” “I bet Y/N would love street tacos.” Your attempts to hide your true feelings to the guys was in vain as they could sense that you were in his mind for the majority of the trip. 

After spending the entire morning and most of the afternoon sightseeing, he decides to give you a call once he gets back to their hotel room. He suspected it had to be morning where you were at and assumed you would be awake by now. He was right about it being early - way too early in your opinion - but you were in no way up yet. He clicks on your contact and waits for you to answer. 

“Hello,” he heard you answer. Your voice was groggy and raspy but Jimin was too chipper to notice. He was just so happy to hear you. 

“Hi honey!,” Jimin says into the phone, “Oh man, you don’t know how happy I am to hear your voice. Today’s been so busy for me. How’s your morning going?” 

Since you just woke up, it takes you a few seconds to fully understand Jimin’s simple question and you proceed to answer. Just in your native language. The one that Jimin was in no way fluent in. 

“Huh?”, Jimin responds perplexedly, “Y/N?” 

Hearing him say your name snaps you out of your sleepy state and realizes what you just said (or at least how you said it). Flustered, you gave yourself facepalm. “Oh sorry,” you apologized weakly, “I haven’t gotten up yet.” But all you could hear on the other was Jimin giggling hysterically, unable to control himself. “Hey!,” you said with a slightly annoyed tone, “What’s so funny, Park?” 

“Sorry honey,” Jimin says in between fits of laughter, “You’re just so freaking cute.” 

Taehyung

It was only recently that you and Taehyung decided to get your own place together. You two have dating for about two and thought it was about time. Sure, Taehyung did miss living with the guys and they missed him too. But Taehyung just loved you so much and wanted to take the next step in adulthood with you. 

For the most part, you and Taehyung made perfect housemates. You two divided chores evenly and neither nagged the other to do them. You cooked most of the meals, though Tae made it up with running whatever errand you asked of him. And most importantly, any conflict that arose, the two nipped it in the bud before the problem got worse. Yes, living at peace together was absolute paradise. 

Nevertheless, there was just one thing that Taehyung had a rather tough time getting used to: it was your sleep talking. Whether it was you walking him up in the middle of the night spouting gibberish or you mumbling incoherent phrases while taking a long nap, it would always catch Taehyung off guard. It wasn’t that he was annoyed or bothered by your sleep talking, it simply creeped him out. And avoid making you feel bad about it, he never brought it up. 

However, one night had to be Taehyung’s strangest encounter with you and, specifically, your sleep talking. It had been hours when you and Taehyung turned in for bed and both of you were fast asleep. A sudden movement of the bed had woken up Tae. He assumed you were leaving for the bathroom and tried to go back to sleep. But once he heard your voice in a strange tone, his eyes bolted open. He turned to you and found you sitting straight up, gazed fixed upon the front of you. 

“Y/N? You okay?,” he asked you but you didn’t respond. After a moment, you begin to speak in a deliberate yet monotone voice, all the while speaking in your native language. Your eyes were still staring into the darkness and you sounded as if you were reciting some demonic spell. You even heard his name a couple of times throughout your monolog, which didn’t help at all. Taehyung wondered if waking you up would’ve been a smart idea but honestly he was too spooked to move. This lasted a couple of minutes and when you were finished, you laid back on in bed and went fast asleep. Leaving a baffled and scared Taehyung, asking himself, “What the fuck just happened?”

The next morning, Taehyung walked into the kitchen, finding you making breakfast. 

“Morning, Tae,” you exclaimed in a cheery voice, “You hungry?”

Still disturbed from what happened, Taehyung stuttered a “Yes, sure”.

“What’s wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.” 

Taehyung chuckled nervously, not daring to say anything. 

Jungkook 

"Tonight was really great, Kookie. Thanks for taking me out." 

You and Jungkook were driving home after a spending date night at a restaurant Jin recommended. 

At the steering wheel, Jungkook glances at you for a second and smiles. "You're very welcome, baby, I'm happy you had a great time. I really have to thank Jin hyung once I get home."

Date nights with Jungkook were always fun and this one was no exception. It didn't matter what you two ended up doing, there was never a dull moment between you two. You were just so happy to be with someone you can be fully relaxed with. 

The drive home was very calming. The warm glow of the city lights and the R&B music playing softly on the radio created a very chill vibe around you. Maybe a little two chill since you were beginning to fall asleep. 

Not taking his eyes off the road, Jungkook asks, " Hey, are you in the mood for some ice cream? I know this great place nearby, you'll love it." 

Still somewhat conscious but very close to falling to passing out, you answer sleepily in your native language. 

"What? Is that a yes?" he asks perplexedly but you don't answer. When he stops at the red light, he looks over to you. You were fast asleep, your head leaning on the glass window. 

Jungkook smiles softly to himself and gently runs your knee. "Time to get you home," he says quietly and drives into the night. 

[lippskinn]

Limit to Love

Pairing: Sirius x Remus 

Rating: R 

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Angst, Medical Conditions, Starvation, Nudity

The bear-like dog trotted down a narrow road in the Yorkshire Dales. It had crossed miles of barren land and had finally reached the last stretch of the journey. Tired and hungry, it dragged itself up to the stone cottage on top of the hill. The place looked uninhabited and resembled more of a sheep shelter than a house; roof tiles were strewn across the land and the door was boarded up with planks of thick wood. As the dog reached the door, it barked, and as the door opened, a familiar face welcomed it. Once inside, the dog turned into a man.

The cottage looked slightly bigger on the inside. It had only one room with a tiny kitchen. The bathroom was separated from the rest of the space by a curtain to grant a bit of privacy. Everything was tidy yet worn; most things were held in place by duct tape, and Sirius noticed the claw and bite marks on the furniture. Remus apologized repeatedly for the state of his house, but Sirius was simply glad to have a roof above his head; anything was better than the cold cave in the Highlands.

The journey South had quite literally eaten him up. The famished human before Remus was much skinnier than the man he had hugged in the Shrieking Shack (if that was even possible). Sirius looked beyond exhausted, yet desperate to tell Remus what had happened at the Triwizard Tournament. Something about Harry, Voldemort, Mad-Eye Moody and a dead student. He had such trouble focusing, however, that none of it made sense.  

When Remus offered Sirius to sit down, he almost collapsed on the couch, stretched out his limbs, closed his eyes, heaved a sigh and fell asleep on the spot. He had mustered his last bit of energy to reach the house. Remus stroked his head and cheek and put a strand of hair back behind his ear. He watched Sirius’ chest lift and lower. The old prison uniform hung so loosely on his body that Remus could see every single rib protrude from under the tightly stretched, scaly skin covered in scabs and dirt. A whiff of dried faeces, wet dog and putrid breath surrounded him. His head fell back onto the couch’s backrest, and his mouth gaped wide open. The sounds he made reminded Remus of a dementor drawing closer; the rattling and laboured breath.

Remus figured he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon and wrapped him in a blanket for the night. He gently lifted Sirius’ arms, which were about the size of walking sticks, and tugged the blanket under them. Despite their feather-light weight, the joins were stiff, and they were difficult to move. Remus feared he would break them if he moved them too much. He tried to take off the boots as well; completely removed the laces, widened them and then carefully pulled on them as the full sole came off with it. There were no socks left. His feet were bare and covered in black blisters and lesions. Remus gagged.

He carried what was left of the boots with two fingers, threw them in a bin bag, washed his hands and face, took a deep breath, and checked on Sirius again. He looked like an old man on his deathbed; cheeks hollow, skin stretched tightly over the face, thin nose and sunken eyes.  If Remus hadn’t been notified that Sirius was going to visit, he would not have recognized him. He’d been desperate to reconnect with his best friend but felt slightly repulsed by the state of him and at the same time worried he wouldn’t make the night.

So, Remus found himself tiptoeing around him all night. Always alarmed as soon as he made a sound; checked his breath, checked his pulse, watched him closely and added as many blankets as possible. An electric jolt ripped through his intestines every time Sirius coughed and sighed in his sleep keeping him awake until the early morning hours.

That morning, Sirius woke up early with Remus still resting on his shoulder. He stretched, gave Remus a kiss on his forehead, and got up to make some tea for the pair. Finally, Remus was woken by the sound of the kettle whistling, pushed off the pile of blankets, and joined Sirius, who was reading yesterday’s newspaper, at the table. Remus had a slightly lopsided gait and slumped down on the chair as he got to the table. He gave Sirius a wry smile and thanked him as he poured a cup.

“It’s the first time you’re staying for breakfast”, he joked moving in his chair visibly in pain.

“Just ignore my groaning. It will go away eventually,” he added seeing the worried look on Sirius’ face, “did you sleep well?”

“It was the most comfortable in a long while”, Sirius smirked and eyed Remus over the edge of his cup. He made a sound like a suppressed laugh and put his cup down. Remus noticed he’d been making the same sound throughout the night. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

When Remus got the letter from Dumbledore that Sirius was on the way to his home, there was no doubt about letting him stay whatsoever. Their last meeting, a year ago, had ended abruptly and they had not had time to talk. Now, that he was Sirius was awake, Remus hoped to learn a bit more about the events.

“I was waiting for an article in the paper but all they wrote was that Cedric died in the tournament”, said Remus pointing at the paper Sirius was reading, “they dismissed it as an accident.”

“The Prophet has always been a pile of rubbish”, scoffed Sirius, “that Barnabas Cuffe has his nose so deep in Fudge’s bum, he can smell what Fudge had for breakfast.”

“I’m sure Fudge will do anything in his power to lull the public. They cannot afford to admit that Voldemort has returned. Not after they let you escape.”  

“Frankly, I couldn’t care less. Let the whole ship go down and Fudge with it,” Sirius took another sip from his mug and set it down a little too hard. Something seemed to fall shut behind Sirius’ eyes. He stared at the cup in front of him for a couple of seconds, licked his lips and then seemed to snap out of it again. “Fudge only cares about a good article in the papers. He’d never do what’s right if it gave him a bad rep.”

“Do you think it will be like last time?”

Sirius seemed to ponder his answer. He scratched his beard, took another sip from his cup, waited a long time to swallow and said, “No.”

“Did Dumbledore tell you anything?”

“He sent me here. It’s not like I’ll be much of help, anyway, is it?”

Remus felt the strong urge to hug Sirius but all that came out of his mouth was, “I think you should rest. Take a shower, eat something, sleep. Dumbledore won’t be here before midnight and he’ll be happy to know I didn’t let you starve.”

“Do you still keep the chocolate in your nightstand?”

“There’s a limit to love, “Remus got up and put his cup in the sink, “I need to go to town. You have the whole place to yourself. Enjoy yourself. Not too much.”

“This is the happiest I’ve been in years.”

Remus smiled and a distinctive crease formed on his forehead. He turned away from Sirius, breathed out and in and limped over to the wardrobe where he’d hung a suit the night before. Sirius watched him take off his pyjamas. Nothing he hadn’t seen before and yet he couldn’t help but stare. His chest was covered in pink and white scar tissue and his body looked like someone who had worked heavy, manual labour all his life.

“Since when are you wearing suits?”, asked Sirius, “I thought suits were for posh people?”

“Since I am a registered werewolf and might have lied to my landlord about a steady income.”

“Is that your business in town?”

Remus froze, dropped his pants and then swiftly pulled them up, “I’m going to the store. Do you need anything?”

“A pair of new boots. Mine magically vanished overnight.”

“What boots?”, laughed Lupin, grabbed a heavy key and opened the door, “I’ll be back soon.”

Sirius watched Remus limp down the hill to the main road. As far as he could tell, it must have been an hour on foot to the closest town. Once Remus had turned left and disappeared behind a stone wall, Sirius cleaned the kitchen table and sat down on a chair. Although he'd only just woken up, he felt overpowering tiredness and his arms felt heavy. He was torn between hunger and sleep and couldn't decide if he wanted to raid the fridge or crawl under a blanket. He stared down on his feet and picked at the remaining fabric of his socks. With one tug, the cotton crumbled and he removed the tatters. His ankles were swollen and he noticed how much his feet were hurting from the journey. Every step felt like walking on eggshells. He rubbed his legs and decided that a bath would probably be best while Remus was gone.

Sirius poured himself a scorching hot bath and steam filled the whole house. He slipped out of his prison uniform and carefully sank into the water. It was as if layers of dirt were peeling off his body and he suddenly felt feather-light. He closed his eyes, leaned back and enjoyed the warmth. Every inch of his body ached as the water turned muddy. Soon the overbearing tiredness returned, he rested his head on the edge and let himself soak in the water. Sleep had won.

The next thing he knew was a wet and frantic Remus rubbing his chest with a towel. He was lying naked on the floor in front of the bathtub, his back propped against Remus legs whose jacket was dripping wet.

"How long have you been in there? I was away for three hours."

Sirius shivered. The last thing he remembered, he'd poured himself a nice warm bath. Remus had dropped the groceries by the door when he hadn't received a reply from Sirius. He'd dragged him out of the cold bathwater by his arms and put him on the floor to check if he was still alive.

"You could have drowned!"

Remus aggressively dried the rest of Sirius' body, wrapped him in a blanket and leaned him against the tub.

"I fell asleep", murmured Sirius drowsily.

"The water is ice cold", Remus put a finger in the muddy water and then removed the strands of wet hair from Sirius' face, "you could have died." Remus pulled himself up by the tub and pulled the plug. He gave Sirius the towel to cover himself and cleaned out the remaining dirt in the tub. He then walked over to the door where he’d dropped the groceries, collected them, placed them on the kitchen table and took off his wet jacket. “I’ll make us some tea and then we’ll start another attempt at making you look presentable. You look like the last survivor of a hunger strike.”

Remus gave Sirius a hand to pull him up; the towel slipped off him, and Sirius stood naked and shivering in front of Remus. He had a nasty scar on his shoulder, which Remus immediately identified as a werewolf bite. Remus shook his head, bit his lip and said, “Sit down.” He helped Sirius sit down on the edge of the tub, took the showerhead, turned on the water and felt the temperature with his hand. “Lean back, I’ll hold you.” Remus had rolled up his sleeves not to get wet and held Sirius with one arm while rinsing his hair with his other free hand. Sirius was still shivering, he had closed his eyes and let the water run over his head. The hair was matted and brittle; steaks washed down the drain as Remus tried to untangle them.

“We might have to try some of James’ hair brews or you’ll have to let me cut it off”, suggested Remus.

“There’s a limit to love, Remus.”  

[candyshua]

i luv angst a lot so i’m v glad you’re doing this 😭 could i have jun + “don’t pretend to care, i know you don’t” thank you!! 💓 (feel free to litrally break my heart)

a/n: ummmm i have mixed feelings about this one. thank u so much for requesting though! anywho, enjoy!

pairing: junhui x reader (side joshua x reader)

genre: just pure angst

warnings: unrequited love, mentions of sex, the reader is just not a very good person,,,

word count: 2,297

Junhui never liked you. 

Maybe his hatred for you stemmed from the first time you two met; which was through Joshua, of course.

The moment his eyes trailed to where you were, in the doorway of Joshua’s apartment, he felt something amiss in his chest.

You smiled warmly, holding up a plastic bag filled with takeout in one hand and a bottle of soju in the other. Everybody else in his apartment cheered, but Junhui merely gave you a plain look, not knowing what emotions you had just conveyed of him.

Joshua took the bags from you while he gave you a quick kiss. Your grin was of pure authenticity, something that made Junhui recoil.

He remembered the way you snuggled up against Joshua as the rest of you watched a movie. He remembered you talking to him as if he were a friend of yours for years, in spite of only knowing each other for an hour or so. He remembered the feelings of complete and utter disgust when he’d sneak looks at you.

Junhui decided to hate you that night. It was just the safest option.

The second time Junhui met you was at a cheap, hole-in-the-wall diner in the middle of the night. You wore an apron and a tired smile.

You were always smiling. Junhui hated it.

He sat down in a two-person booth by himself, eyeing the menu carefully. His diligent searching was interrupted by your chipper voice. According to Junhui, it was much too chipper for someone who worked at a shitty diner in the middle of the night.

“Hey, you’re Junhui, right?” You greeted.

“Yeah, Y/N?” You nodded enthusiastically.

“Can I get you something to drink?” 

Junhui was absolutely perplexed. How did you seem so happy and awake? 

“Um, water would be fine.” You gave him a thumbs-up and practically skipped away. The feeling in Junhui’s heart was absolutely foreign to him, and he did not welcome it one bit. When you came back and gave him the glass of water, your hand accidentally brushed against his.

Junhui felt his entire world collapse. You weren’t affected whatsoever. Junhui didn’t even think you noticed.

After you had taken his order and walked away, Junhui was left to reflect. 

He decided to hate you yet again. In fact, he needed to hate you, or else he’d have to admit he was falling for his roommate’s girlfriend.

-

Junhui started to lose count of how many times he had seen you. You were soon becoming an avid person in his social life, and it scared the absolute shit out of him. 

He was tremendously scared of you. He was scared of the way your smile made his breath stop, he was scared of the way he felt butterflies in his tummy each time you were remotely near him, and he was scared of the fact that he was in love with you.

One night, you, Junhui, Joshua, and his friend Soonyoung were hanging out in your apartment. Once you all had realized you ran out of booze, Soonyoung and Joshua had left the two of you to go to the store. 

Junhui sat on the couch, mindlessly staring at his phone. He was hyperaware of your everlasting presence. You wore a t-shirt and black shorts that night.

After further observing the shirt, Junhui realized that it was his. Joshua must’ve taken it from him, and you must’ve taken it from Joshua.

Junhui’s mind wandered for a bit. He let himself indulge in the thought of you wearing his t-shirts on a regular basis, and then he found himself being washed over with fear.

Plain and transparent fear. There was no other word to describe the way Junhui had felt when he realized that he was madly in love with you.

No, Junhui had never liked you.

(He loved you.)

“Jun,” You began out of the blue, “can I ask you something?” Junhui’s eyes widened, wondering if you could read his tainted thoughts.

“Um, sure.” 

“Has Joshua ever brought another girl to your apartment?” 

Wow. Junhui could hear your voice crack just a bit, and he knew that you already knew the answer. 

Joshua had been quite irresponsible with you, to say the least. Junhui had kept his mouth shut about it all, even if he did feel a burning hatred for the man he lived with. 

“I think you already know the answer.” Junhui murmured with nothing but shame laced in his tone. He expected you to cry, scream, or just do something reckless. Instead, you stood there silently, hugging your knees to your chest. And when Joshua came back that night, you kissed him at the door.

(Junhui’s heart ached hopelessly.)

-

It was 3 AM. 

You seemed to not care, though, since you called Wen Junhui at the ungodly hour.

“Hello?” He croaked after he picked up the phone, clearly being awakened from his sleep.

“Jun?” You weakly asked. You sniffled, and he automatically knew you had been crying.

“Y/N? What’s up?” Worry was rooted in his tone, like weeds in a yard. He’d try so desperately to rip them out, but they’d always come back.

(He would always be worried about you.)

“Could you, um, come pick me up? Please?” You pleaded. Junhui was thoroughly confused.

“What happened?”

“Josh broke up with me, and he kind of left me at the diner. I have no way to get home…”

“On my way.”

Junhui got in his car with a racing mind and heart. His thoughts were filled with Joshua and his undeniable ability to be an asshole, and of course, you. Junhui wished he could speed through the streets and get to the diner you worked at, but alas, the city of LA was alive with traffic like always. And, of course, rain was falling from the sky in angry droplets.

Junhui moved to LA to chase his dreams of being an actor. And, at the ripe age of 25, his dream wasn’t going too great. He met Joshua through a roommate listing online, and then he got a part-time job at a high-class restaurant. 

He put his dreams on hold.

But, when he finally saw you standing awkwardly on the sidewalk in the rain, a new dream was born.

(He dreamt of being yours.)

The moment you spotted Junhui’s beat-up car, you wore a smile for the first time that night. Junhui’s heart fluttered.

After you got into the car, Junhui drove away without asking a single question. Half of him didn’t want to pester you with such things.

And half of him didn’t really want to know, in fear that he might have gone home and beaten the shit out of his roommate.

“Jun,” You started, “thank you. Really–I mean it.”

After he let himself bask in your lovely words for a bit, he gave you a shy smile.

“Of course, Y/N. I’d do anything for you.”

Junhui realized what he had said much too late. His heart dropped. In a state of panic, he turned on the radio, and some romantic jazz started blasting at full volume. Junhui turned it off as soon as he could, his eyes blown wide out of fear and anticipation.

He looked anywhere but you. 

You refused to look anywhere but him.

Those words were surprisingly nice coming from Junhui’s mouth. 

“Where are we going?” You questioned the older man. 

Junhui handed you his phone with Google Maps open, having already prepared it before you entered the car.

“Put in your address please.” He stated blankly. You nodded and let a fit of giggles subside in your throat. 

Once Junhui pulled up to your apartment complex, you opened the door and waved him goodbye. 

Junhui was about to drive away, but you stopped him.

“Wait!”

Junhui hit the brakes way too aggressively.

“Want to come in for some coffee?”

(Junhui should’ve just driven away.)

-

Ever since the night you two had slept together, Junhui’s entire world was on fire. He couldn’t bear to look Joshua in the eyes, but Joshua probably wouldn’t have even cared if he found out about what happened. Junhui led himself to that conclusion after Joshua brought home a girl two days after the breakup.

Junhui was going insane.

He avoided you like the plague. He had become a regular at the diner you worked at, but he hadn’t gone since that night.

Two weeks had passed, two painstakingly slow and miserable weeks. Time was Junhui’s enemy, but it was usually because it was much too fleeting.

Now it was much too slow. You had infested his mind like ants infested a kitchen in the summertime. He wanted to hate you, so badly.

But his feelings for you were quite, in fact, the opposite. Junhui’s feelings would have probably faded away after not seeing you due to the breakup.

He would’ve turned out fine.

Fuck, Junhui thought while studying his lines for an audition, I really should’ve just driven away.

-

The second time you slept together was a spur of the moment thing. You were in your apartment one night, lonely as ever. You scrolled through Instagram and then looked at one of Junhui’s posts. It was a picture of him at a concert with Joshua and Joshua’s new girlfriend.

Your heart felt as if it were ripped in two. 

Before you knew it, you were going to Junhui’s contact on your phone and pressing “call”. It rang a few times, so much so that you thought the call would go to voicemail.

“Y/N?” Junhui asked, disbelief thick in his voice.

You felt a twisted sense of pride settle in you. He always picked up your calls.

“Hey Jun, you doing anything right now?”

On the other line, Junhui was on his computer, paying the bills.

“No, I’m not.” He lied.

You heard a laptop shut on the other line. You had to stifle a scoff.

“How about you come over?”

Junhui wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He absolutely refused to do so. 

But he really missed you.

“Be there in fifteen minutes.” 

(He arrived in ten.)

-

Junhui started visiting the diner again. You still worked there, as diligent and positive as ever. 

You two would leave together just about every time Junhui went. 

When he laid in bed beside you after you found sleep, Junhui let himself feel a sliver of hope. Maybe you loved him back…

He noticed the peaceful rise and fall of your chest, covered with bruises due to his wandering mouth. And the feelings came rushing in at such a high speed that Junhui had difficulty breathing.

That was real. It was so, undeniably real. Junhui had slept with you on numerous occasions, but you never tried to initiate anything more. Despite his lingering feelings of faith, he knew that if he ever tried to become something more to you, you would push him away.

You didn’t love him.

(You loved Joshua.)

-

Maybe Junhui knew he was your rebound all along. Maybe he let himself be your toy because he’d do anything for you.

But, when you came into his apartment that night, hand-in-hand with Joshua, Junhui just couldn’t contain the pain he was feeling.

He expected it, to be quite honest. That still didn’t stop it from hurting more than anything else he could have ever felt. You were a gamble, a risky and selfish gamble, and he had just lost a million dollars. 

When you tried to sneak out of the apartment that night, you still couldn’t get by Junhui. He sat on the couch, mindlessly reading his phone, like he used to do around you.

“Listen, Jun–”

“Don’t say that.” Junhui hissed, nothing but pure venom in his voice. 

“Jun, what are you–”

“Don’t say my name. Don’t try to explain anything either. And, don’t pretend to care, I know you don’t.” 

You scoffed, your entire apologetic demeanor changing.

“You knew what you were doing.” You rebutted. Junhui’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you were the reason for his anger. He thought of the second time he met you, when you were a happy-go-lucky waitress in a shitty diner. 

He should have known it was all a facade. He should have known you.

“So did you. You knew you were just using me as some sort of fucking toy, even though you also knew I was madly in love with you.”

Despite the unstoppable storm of anger and melancholy inside of Junhui, he was eerily calm on the outside. His voice was quiet, and for once, sure of himself. The thing he was so sure of was, in fact, your love for him. Or lack thereof.

“Why would I ever even consider loving you? You’re a failed actor who–”

“Actually, I’m not a ‘failed actor’ anymore. I’ve been preparing for this one role for a while, and I got it. It’s for this new movie…”

Junhui could’ve also went into the fact that you were a fucking waitress at a shit hole of a diner, saving up for your own business, but he didn’t.

You were obviously taken aback. Junhui felt a slight twinge of pride for being the one that made you feel something, instead of it always being the other way around.

“I should go.” 

Junhui wanted to stop you, for some odd reason. He couldn’t get over his paralyzing love for you through just one argument.

There was something in your eyes. Maybe it was a glint of regret. Maybe you wanted Junhui to tell you to stay.

“Yeah, you should.” Was what he said instead.

(So you left, and Junhui let you. Junhui would look back on it years later with nothing but criticism for himself. You were such a mistake.)

[just-a-happening]

Body Pillow | T.H.

Summary: In which you try to make your time spent away from Tom a little easier but your plan works a little too well for his liking.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1,300

Author’s Note: hello this is my first time writing like this so pls be gentle!

Long distance was hard.

Despite practically sharing an apartment, you sometimes went weeks, even months, without seeing your boyfriend while he was away filming. You did your best to fill the space–FaceTiming twice a week, phone calls every night, spontaneous weekend visits–but you had yet to find the cure to an empty bed.

It was always hard, putting on a brave face while dropping him off at JFK.

“I’ll be home before you know it darling,” he promised every time, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You won’t even have time to miss me.”

Things took a turn for the worst when he left to shoot Far From Home. Not only were you not allowed on set due to confidentiality issues–Tom compared it to being quarantined–but he didn't get a break until halfway through filming, meaning you wouldn’t see each other for four months; the longest you’d ever been apart.

At first, you took in stride. You weren’t going to be one of those girls, the kind that fell apart the moment your boyfriend wasn’t around. 

“Do you miss me yet?” he’d ask, his pixilated face smiling softly at you. 

Your schedules were off now that he was in Europe, but you had a small window between you getting home from work and his bedtime. 

You’d scoff, deflecting the question. “I’ll tell you what I don’t miss, taking cold showers because you used up all the hot water.”  

Unfortunately, after downing an entire bottle of Pinot Grigio at your weekly wine night at your best friend’s place, you realized, much to your friend’s amusement, that you were, in fact, one of those girls. 

You tried it all. From sleeping on his side, to sleeping in the middle, you even spent nights on the couch in front of the TV to avoid the bedroom all together; nothing seemed to ease the dull ache in your chest from missing Tom.  

The bed felt too big, too cold without him.

You didn’t even have Tess to keep you company. Tom had left her with his brother Sam back in London, insisting that he didn’t want to burden you with her for the next several months. 

You spent the nights eating Chinese takeout on the couch, because Tom usually cooked, making a significant dent in your Netflix watch list. 

You got the idea while roaming the aisles of the nearest Target. Tessa had accidentally destroyed one of your throw pillows last time she was at your place (Tom’s fault, of course, not hers) and you’d been meaning to find a replacement. You turned down the wrong aisle, though, stumbling upon the body pillows instead.

You didn’t solve your throw pillow dilemma that day, but you did find a solution to your empty bed syndrome.

Finally, you were sleeping through the night again. It wasn’t the same as cuddling him–definitely not as fun, but with much less kicking involved–but after a few weeks, it became the only way you could fall asleep. 

You never mentioned it to Tom, a little embarrassed to admit just how much you missed him.

At first, Tom found it adorable.

“I think it’s cute,” he teased when he first got home. He held the pillow up so that they were side by side. “You know, I can kind of see the resemblance.”

You’d just roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Maybe we could buy it a Spider-Man costume, mask and all. Then you really wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“I’m going to smack you with it.”

One night the two of you were in bed. Tom was scheduled to fly back out to Atlanta at the end of the week so you were making the most of your time together, which really just meant having enough sex to tide you over the three months until he was home for good.

“I missed this,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I missed you,” he’d mumble back.

Tom’s mouth trailed deliciously hot kisses down your neck, his fingers tugging down the strap of your tank top to pepper kisses over your shoulder before reaching down and pulling it off in one swift movement. 

You cupped his face and pulled his lips back to yours, kissing him slowly, fingers tangled in his hair, committing every move to memory. Both of you wanted to preserve this moment as best as you could.

You broke apart, squealing when Tom shifted with lightning speed, rolling on top of you. He was peering down at you, his eyes mischievously bright, grinning smugly.

“Can your pillow do this?” he winked, before disappearing under the covers.

“You know, you are so annoy–oh,” your eyes fluttered shut. “No, it can’t.”

It wasn’t until he was back home from filming that he started to notice how much of a problem it had actually become. He knew you’d grown attached to it, sure, but he didn’t expect you to keep cuddling the damn thing while he was in bed with you.

He would make up in the middle of the night to find that the stupid pillow was between you, your arms clutching it for dear life. Several times he tried to slide it out from under you, but you would frown in your sleep.

Once, he accidentally woke you up.

“What’re you doing?” you muttered groggily, pulling the pillow closer.

He just sighed and collapsed back into bed, defeated. “Sorry love, just getting comfortable.”

You were cleaning the apartment one afternoon and you found your pillow folded neatly on the top shelf of the storage closet. When you confronted Tom about it he just shrugged, insisting that he had no idea how it got there.

“Maybe it was the cleaning lady,” he said casually, not even bothering to look up from the magazine he was reading. 

You crossed your arms, giving him a flat look he couldn’t see. “I don’t have a cleaning lady.”

“We should get you a cleaning lady.” 

Tom would lay awake at night, plotting ways to get rid of it while making it look like an accident. He’d never want to hurt your feelings, but he missed his girlfriend.

You finally caught on to what was happening when you caught him trying to feed it to a very uninterested Tessa, probably hoping it would suffer the same fate as your throw.

“You’re jealous.”

Tom scoffed. “Don’t be daft.”

His too-quick reply only confirmed your suspicions. “Oh my God, you are!”

“I am not jealous!” he argued defensively. “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

You poked his side affectionately. “Are you worried I love it more than I love you?”

He glared at you. “Don’t even joke.”

One night he’d had enough. You were both sitting in bed, him scrolling through Twitter, you reading a book, your pillow between you. He looked between you and the pillow once before setting his phone down and snatching it off the bed.

You glanced up from your book, confused. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tucked the pillow under his arm and walked out the bedroom door towards the kitchen. You were so stunned you didn’t even get out of bed to follow him.

It sounded like he was rifling through one of the cabinets followed by the unmistakable sound of a garbage bag being shaken out. You then heard the front door open and close, the deadbolt sliding back into place.

Seconds later, Tom walked back into your room empty-handed.

You raised an eyebrow at him and asked, “Are you sure you weren’t jealous?”

“Absolutely positive,” he said, crawling back into bed.

You watched him as he made his way to your side on his hands and knees, his hair falling into his eyes. He reached over and plucked your book out of your hands, tossing it over his shoulder. You made a mental note to reprimand him about it later.

You giggled as he pulled you to him, your head finding his chest and your arms automatically winding around his middle.

He hummed happily, “Much better.”

“What about next time you leave?” you asked, nuzzling your face into his neck.

Nothing could replace this feeling, you thought.  

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he murmured into your hair. 

You closed your eyes, the warmth of his body pressed up to yours lulling you to sleep. You shook your head drowsily. 

“I don’t need a new one,” you yawned. “I just need you to promise to always come back.”

“I swear.” 

[myshuagger]

surely, someday...

words: ~1400 (ish) genre: fluff/angst, friends to lovers warnings: implicit alcohol use, implicit drunk sex, unedited as always a/n: i don’t even know...? but I missed writing. this is the only thing i’ve actually finished since the last time i posted. i mean, i’ve advanced some of my wips... kinda... yeah... anyway, hope whoever reads this likes it.

A soft sigh escapes from your lips as you sit by the window and watch the snow fall quietly. Behind, the empty hotel room is cold, unforgiving. The clock showing 2:03 am has no tact. Its soft ticking mocking you with every passing second.

I’ll meet you there… wait for me.

You wonder how many times you’ve felt your heart break like this. How many times have you heard those words only to be disappointed.

You lost track. Avoiding to count was difficult at first but it’s your only source of relief. If you counted, the situation would be unbearable.

Not that it’s bearable right now. You think as your chin rests on your hand. The buzz of your phone almost goes unnoticed. You prefer to ignore it anyway. The contents of the message already floating in your mind. Excuses. Seems like it’s all you get nowadays.

The snowy landscape fills you with memories. Nostalgia claws at your throat. You wash it down with a sip of cheap wine.

___

Jun’s hand feels warm on your own. He runs and laughs in front of you as you try your best to pull him back. The floor is slippery and dangerous. He laughs once again when you voice your thoughts. Runs even faster.

You two collapse on the snow after a few minutes. Jun covers his face as he gasps for breath. You would have never imagined to be hanging around with someone like Wen Junhui. Being neighbors meant that you got to listen to every complaint, every temper tantrum, every prank.

The 11 year old on the snow next to you is annoying at best. Rowdy and careless. Somehow you also find him eye catching, endearing.

Your mom had showed disapproval when you first asked her to go out to play with him. She conceded anyway, persuaded by his mother. Perhaps, being friends will make him be more mature, it’s what his mother had said. It didn’t. You kept playing with him anyway.

___

The soft bass of your favorite song thumps inside your ribcage as you sit in the living room of an unknown house. Your mind feels like a cloud. The couch dips next to you and an arm wraps around your bare shoulders. Your eyes open to a smiley Jun.

“Are you okay?” He screams against your ear and you have to pull away a bit. He’s 17 now but still as loud as when you first met him. His carefree laugh can be heard over the music. Or so you think. Maybe you’re just so used to hear him laugh.

Before you can answer his question someone else speaks. Voice almost as loud as Jun’s. You try to pay attention to Soonyoung’s drunk babble. You almost manage to make out whatever he’s trying to say, until your concentration is interrupted by Jun’s thumb drawing small circles on your shoulder. 

A shiver runs through your spine as Jun whispers the words let’s go into your ear. Your mind is no longer a cloud, not when his hand grounds you as he takes you upstairs.

He kisses you with your back pressed against the wall. Mouth needy and hands on your hips. It’s not your first kiss but it somehow feels different, new. Your own hands grasp at his hair when Jun’s mouth travels down your neck.

His hands awake a series of pants and repressed moans. They make him impatient. You bite him playfully when his lips travel back to your own. A mischievous smirk playing on his handsome features as he guides you to the bed.

He’s still too rowdy and careless, but you don’t mind.

___

The days after your high school graduation are bittersweet to say the least. Especially as you had learned a few weeks back that you and Jun were attending separate universities. Even more so because his was a good 4 hours away from your place.

Admittedly, you cried when you learned about it. Both in front of him and by yourself. You two have been together for so long that thinking about one of you leaving made you feel empty. 

“Let’s always be together,” is what Jun tells you on the last day as you both lay down on the bed, your bed, holding hands. He finished packing a few hours ago. You have been talking about everything and nothing since then. The topic of your relationship avoided until that moment.

You wonder if it’s possible. The fear of your relationship eroding with distance and time the only thing on your mind. Unsure eyes meet with bright ones. Jun kisses you softly and holds you close. None of you say anything else.

He leaves that same evening. You fall asleep by yourself to memories of snow and the warmth of his hand.

___

You pick up your phone hurriedly the second time it rings. Jun’s annoyance meets you on the other side. Apologies for missing his first call start to flow through your lips like water. He sighs and tells you it’s okay.

The conversation is the same as always. Playing catching up feels boring after the first 100 times. You endure it just because it’s him.

After 30 minutes you notice he sounds tired. He tells you it’s midterms week and you feel guilty for taking his study time away from him. You tell him as much and he laughs, denies it right away. Somehow, it sounds different than before.

You start to wonder if this is okay. If things are working.

“I’m visiting again next weekend.”

Your heart jumps and you almost fall from your chair. Afterall, the last time he was able to visit was almost two months ago. You voice fake suspicion and he laughs. Gets loud when he tries to convince you he’s telling the truth. For a moment he sounds like the Junhui you know.

“...so, will you wait for me?”

Jun tells you he loves you before he hangs up. Those simple words are enough to dissipate any of your doubts.

___

The first thing Jun does after getting out of the car is to kiss you. His mother makes a comment about how he didn’t even say hi. Jun looks at her with a playful eyes before he runs to hug her.

You walk behind them when they head to the house. Listening to their conversation with a faint smile on your lips.

That night, you and Jun talk about everything and nothing. Focus on each other’s presence and share spontaneous kisses. You’re at peace. Limbs tangled and bodies too close, product of his small bed.

When your eyes feel too heavy and sleep demands your full attention, you whisper for Jun to take you with him. You don’t hear his answer but feel the soft press of his lips against your forehead.

___

Sometimes you visit Jun without previous notice. Book a hotel room near his apartment and call him over when he least expects it. It’s fun and makes for a good surprise.

Or it did.

Lately, your surprise trips have been met with nothing but disappointment and a million apologies. It seems that if it’s not an exam then it’s a project, or a promise to his friends.

When he does come, he usually leaves early in the morning. So early It leaves you to wonder if he was actually there or if your mind is just playing tricks with you.You try not to cry when it happens.

However, cancelled plans and excuses seem to not be enough to deter you from trying. You still plan your impromptu trips to see him. Still book a room at the same hotel. You don’t know if you do it in hopes he actually comes. In hopes of seeing the Junhui you love.

___

You rub your eyes, the clock that reads 7:26 am. The bottle of wine is now as empty as the room. As the first rays of sunrise hit your face, you feel nothing.

Perhaps Jun doesn’t remember that afternoon. Maybe he doesn’t remember when he, albeit carelessly like everything he does, whispered those words. That day feels so distant in your mind you’re not even sure you remember correctly. Nonetheless, his voice repeats itself over, and over, and over.

Let’s always be together.

Although you didn’t reply to him back then, you still feel the same. As you close the curtains to block the sunlight you whisper your answer to yourself.

“I’ll wait forever.”

And you do.

[doyoungbunnyagenda]

Crown Of Thorns; Bed Of Roses - k.dy: Chapter 1

 <- [preivous] |

Summary • Alcohol and late-night rendezvous were the only things keeping the young princess Y/N stable. Doyoung was an actor finding his relief his in cigarettes and dark streets. Ever since meeting one night, they both have spent their time picking up each other’s pieces and building each other from the ground up. When Y/N thinks her life is back on track, her childhood demons come back to bite her, however this time they have a proposal. That had to do with her father, herself and a shotgun... When Doyoung tries to rescue her from her demons, he puts himself in equally as much danger.

Pairing • actor!doyoung x modernprincess!reader

Genre • drama with a whole lot a angst and small traces of fluff. royalty!au

Word count • 3k

Warnings • underaged drinking(depends on where u live), drug usage, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of corrupt governments, arranged marriage, dialogue-heavy

Songs to listen to • War Crimes, Watch What Happens Next, I Felt Younger When We Met all by Waterparks I’m a big parxs fan okay, don’t judge

A/N • @original-jomi , @elite-puppy-seungminnie So this is what I’ve been doing for the whole Christmas break. This was so much fun to write. And as this is written by me, there is barely any fluff (like four lines in total). Well nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!!!

Winter 2017

“You think you can control me like I’m some doll of yours, where you play dress up and chuck them with whatever man you think best, I’m an adult for Christ’s sake.” She shouted at your father lounging on the expensive couch like he owns the entire country which he did.

“Come on, princess it’s only an arranged marriage, nothing out of the ordinary.”

She let out a scoff at the sound of his words.

“So do you even care about me as a person? Are you even putting my happiness into consideration, or do you see me as a business transaction, a peace treaty?” She questioned starting to get to her wit's end with her Dad’s attitude.

“No the point is you fall in love during the marriage, have you seen the Jung family? I remember going to that wedding and they were arranged.” Her protests fell silent.

“If you need more examples, me and your mother we‘re arranged, look where it left us.” The King proclaimed.

“With my mother dead and with a father who only cares about his own safety and nothing else.” She gave her father an ice-cold glare as he remained stunned on the couch. Before he could open his mouth too, argue back, She spoke,

“I don’t care about what you think anymore, I’m not marrying any man you decide to put with me and that’s final, not that you’ll listen anyway.” You cut him off while storming out of one of the many royal places situated, in the middle of the capital.

In her hand, she made sure she had her black face mask and her designer beanie that she received as a gift from one of her friends. Quickly, you darted out of the house, ignoring her father’s angry desperate pleas for her to listen to him, getting quieter and quieter the further she ran. She fixed her mask on her face and went down the back passageway behind the mansion. If anyone went through the front way, they definitely would’ve been caught by security. The builders were stupid enough not to build a security system at the back of the mansion. Breaking in was a piece of cake, all it took was a jump and they were in. The girl leapt over the hedge and made it out of the courtyard, her feet landing on the pavement with a thud. No one could tell who she was and it felt good for once.

Strolling the midnight streets of her country, she turned around the block of some random fast food place. The silence of the city was something she craved. The world around her felt too loud, so she treasured the time she got alone to herself. She just wished Her dad could understand from her perspective. Her point of view. Not his own twisted perspective. 

Hers.

 It was her life he was handing over not his own. Ever since the princess was born your dad traded around her like poker chips. Anything and everything that would improve public opinion about him and his family was on the table. 

Signing her up for any elite activity he could think of. Horse riding, she started at the age of seven. Archery, she had already won several gold medals in national tournaments. By the age of 13, she was already a world-renowned child ballet dancer. On top of all of that, she had to get extremely high grades, it didn’t matter if she couldn’t, she had too. It wasn’t like the king was doing it to better his daughter's future. He only cared about his image and how he can make his family look like a trophy family when it was far from the truth. Totally forgetting that the country still hasn’t forgotten about the ‘indecent” 13 years ago.

Nights like this were nights where she enjoyed getting drunk off her head. It was always fun to drink your problems away. Wandering into the liquor store, she always visits because they didn’t ask for ID. She swore they knew she was underage. As she once walked in with her ‘friends’ from private school one Saturday night many moons ago, buying out the whole store's stock luxury red wine. From one of the shelves, her hand grasped a bottle of hard liquor, shaking slightly as she grabbed it. You went up to the cashier and slammed a tenner on the counter, then left, leaving them very confused and alone in the shop once again. Her mask was now resting on her chin. She popped open the bottle and lifted the top of its neck to her chapped lips. The burn that ran down her throat felt electric, giving her body an instant buzz. She continued to wander down this lonely road, occasionally taking swigs from the drink. She knew it was irresponsible to go out at this time of night and get so drunk she couldn't stand up straight, but it was a means of escaping her reality. And trust me she would take any chance she got.

“Stupid father” The girl mumbled as she ambled and staggered down the streets. The bottle of liquor was long discarded on some random roadside and her mask was perched on her face. She somehow made her way to the shadiest part and poorest part of town. The level of unemployment was so high in this area that many people had resorted to other (less legal) means to keep themselves alive. She honestly didn’t blame them, when the rich were using all their tax money to live a lavish lifestyle, they were in the corners starving, outcasted by their government. The only thing they should be expected to do is rebel. She mumbled another curse word before stumbling into an alleyway collapsing on the floor. She was tired. She had been awake since 6 am in the morning. She swore her dad barely understood the basic concept of sleep. Her head banged against the flimsy garage opening behind her. The princess let out a curse at the sudden pain surging through her head accompanied by a pulsing migraine.

“Problem?” A low voice from above her spoke, his tone laced in darkness. her eyes remained plastered onto the floor, too shy to look up at the person above her. 

“A shy one, I see.” The person said to themselves, they sighed deeply again at her persistent silence and spoke once again,” Not replying when you’re spoken too, is quite impolite, with the clothes you’re wearing I’d expect more of your upbringing.” The person rudely remarked.

“Excuse me, who are you to say that?” She said, with a look of offence evident in her eyes. 

Abandoning her shyness, she got the courage to look at the person who dares to insult her. If only they knew who she was. When she looked up everything she was planning to say got caught in her throat. To only be replaced by a gasp. Their presence was intimidating, to say the least. A male from what you could tell. His shoulders were broad and his eyes a piercing shade of dark brown. If it wasn’t for the moonlight, she could have sworn his eyes were as black as the world around him. Tuffs of raven hair could be seen slightly poking outside of his midnight stained hat. If she didn’t look close enough, he could be mistaken for invisible. A cigarette was held in his nimble fingers and he brought out a lighter from his back pocket. He held it to his lips and lit a spark on the end. After he took his hit, the man looked back at the girl before him.

“You realise staring is also quite rude?” The man sighed sarcastically. She remained silent. “I expected a rich girl like you to know better. Do you know how many people I know who would love to wear that coat or hat of yours.”

She scoffed,” What right do you have to say that. Have you seen yourself? Your hat, no normal person could afford that here. Who’s a credit card is that coming from hmm?” She drunkenly slurred.

The man sighed at your state and chucked lightly.” I’m self-made man, no trust fund, no inheritance, nothing of that sort. I worked my life from the ground up and see where I am now.”

“Smoking a blunt alone in the most dangerous part of town? That definitely sounds like The Life to me.” She said.

“That’s right buttercup, I’m living the life aren’t I?.” He laughed and looked into your eyes. A warm feeling crept up in her chest and a small smile that he could not see graced her features.

“But what do you mean alone, I’m talking to you right? Or has the spice gotten to me and I’m just talking to a ghost.” He joked.

“That latter obviously.” She rolled her eyes and laughed along with her.

“I like your sense of humour, what’s your name?”

Her eyes went wide. If there was one thing he couldn’t know it was her name, it was too risky, her family’s perfect image would be cut in half and plunged into disrepair.

“No can do, it’s a secret.” She teased and playfully put her finger up to her mask. “What about you?” She questioned

“That’s a secret too, I’m afraid.” The man said while mimicking your action.

After laughing at their childishness for a couple of minutes. A comfortable silence filled the air. She observed the slight rise and fall in his chest as he took a couple more hits of the drug and discarded it on the ground and stomped out the tiny flame with his foot. She would blame it on her drunken self, but he reminded her of a prince. A prince you would find in a somewhat twisted modern fairy tale. With all his money he practically could be classified as one. He had a dominative aura which she couldn’t help but challenge. The man could obviously take a joke which was a welcomed change to what she was had known and gotten used to for the whole of her life. For once the girl felt comfortable. Unrestricted. At peace with her thoughts and it wasn’t the alcohol, it was because of him.

“I wish I could be you, you seem so carefree, I want your life.” She said, out of the blue.

“I’m not, trust me, it’s just because of the drugs, I’m not like this, I’m not the person your seeing now.”

“I don’t believe that.” She said her words breathy.”I believe this is your true self when drugs and alcohol get involved, there’s no hiding from yourself. The mistakes you make when your drunk and high aren’t mistakes, they’re not late-night regrets-“

The man interrupted her drunk ramblings and said,” So if me finding myself in the bed of my best friend’s roommate isn’t a mistake, then what was it?”

“It was what you wanted to do, ignoring all the consequences of the morning. When you're under the influence, your common sense is replaced by pure desire. You don't think and that's good, right? It's hard to think with a raging headache."

He sighed,” No that’s not it and I know from experience, your deepest desires aren’t always the best for you and the people around you. The life you are describing is the life you want to get away from..."

“Am I mad for wanting to kiss you right now?” She said unexpectedly, causing a slight gasp to escape from the man next to her.

“Yes, you’re crazy.”

“I would like to I think I’m perfectly sane.”

A blush crept on to the apples of his cheeks for the first time that night. His following words were stuttered. He was flustered.

“Your mother and father must have really gone wrong to create a child like you.”

“Just father here.” You replied 

“What about your mother?”

“Dead.”

“How long?”

“13 years...” she paused before taking a deep breath and continuing. “13 years dead, 13 years of hell for me. I swear ever since she died a switch was flipped in my father. Never known why.” She sighed looking down at the gravel floor.

“13 years ago, I was a runaway. Home was never the safest place, it was for the best. I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t even go looking for me.”

“Seems the both of us have had shitty up upbringings. I guess that makes us equal"

“Well then, about that kiss...” the man trailed off-topic.

“What about it?” You laughed slightly.

“I can’t kiss someone whose name I don’t know.”

The cheesy grin plastered under her mask was embarrassing. She pretended to think about it, but her answer was already set the minute he finished his sentence.

“Well in that case I guess-“

She felt a buzz in the back pocket of her black jeans and went silent.

“Oh, shit-“ She blurted out surprised that someone would call her at this hour. She checked her phone and saw it was her cousin Youngho. She rolled her eyes at the thought of her dad calling Youngho to sort her out, being too lazy to do it himself. She opted to answer the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Y/N, Where the fuck are you!?” He shouted from the other end of the line. She winced at the loud noise before continuing.”

“Somewhere, I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders and saw the man next to her stifle a giggle.

“You’re so stupid, it’s 4:29 am and you don’t know where you are? I'm so done with you. I’m tired of being woken up at 4 am with your father screeching at me to go pick you up.”

You heard your cousin sigh tiredly.

“Well it not my fault he doesn’t have my number, he could care less about where I am.” She argued back.

“Shut up and tell me where you are,” Youngho said defeatedly.

“You know where the 603’s last stop is, I’m near there.” She finally remembered.

“The most dangerous part of town, I see. Whatever I’m coming to pick you up hang on in there.” He said before hanging up.

“Your dad doesn’t have your number even my father was better than that.” The man next to you commented at your conversation.

“Does it look like my dad even gives two shits? He hasn’t bothered to get my new number after I changed my phone a year ago.”

“You don’t deserve that no one does.” He sympathised with her.

“Now you know why I run away. But it’s almost 5 am and I haven’t slept in 24 hours and I don’t fancy passing out on the streets so I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“Fair enough, see you never...” He paused as if he was waiting for her to say something.

“Y/N.” She said firmly 

“Doyoung.” He stated as she walked away from him, leaving him to wallow in his own thoughts and feelings.

She stumbled to the bus stop where she said she’ll meet Youngho. Her head rested against the metal pole and she sighed. A sigh full of contentment. Remembering what happened moments earlier, her heart warmed her chest and started to beat faster than had ever been. She felt lightheaded. Duplicates of what was in front of her kept appearing in her vision. Like some weird fever dream. Her eyes were about to flutter shut, bringing her into a dream-filled sleep but she was brought back to reality by a low but loud car horn ringing in her ears.

“Get in,” Youngho said, his tone clear and flat. Her cousin turned down the tinted windows of his Mercedes Benz and looked into her eyes with no emotion what so ever. She tried to search for his the usual bright look in his eyes, normally twinkling constantly rain or shine. But all she found was black. Pits of charcoal staring into her own. Because of her wasted state, the only way she could respond was with a laugh. Youngho continued to look unimpressed.

He pushed out the door of the car, for the girl to stumble in and hit her head on the headrest. Even though he found his cousin’s fumbling and slurring funny at times, he needed to keep a straight face.

“For fuck's sake Y/N, you’re so wasted that you can’t even get your seat belt on, here let me help.” Youngho sighed. He draped the seat belt over her half-asleep body and clicked it into the latch. He sat back in his seat and ran a hand through his brown locks. She looked up at him and noticed defined black circles under his eyes. He looked about as tired as she was. He yawned before speaking again.

“I’m tired of acting like your babysitter Y/N. Why can’t you just grow up and stop stupid stunts like this?” Youngho pleaded, tiredness laced in his voice.

“If you don’t want to feel like my babysitter, then stop acting like my dad, you’re my cousin. The three years between us doesn’t mean that much.” She protested weakly.

“Someone has to care about you, Y/N. Your dad is obviously doing a terrible job so that just leaves me, your amazing older cousin.” He chuckled hoping to loosen the atmosphere. It obviously worked as she started to smile again.

“What would I do without you?” She giggled

“Crash, burn and die,” Youngho said before placing his hands on the wheel.

“Just make sure not do this again,” He followed up,” We’re going to my place, by the way, it’s closer. Your dad was like a feral dog to me over the phone. Y’know there are much better ways of getting back at him.”

“Like what?” She questioned eyes half-open and mouth agape leaning her head against the window.

Instead of an answer, you were greeted with nothing but the sound fresh raindrops beating the window from outside and the sound of Youngho hitting the gas pedal and speeding off, into the night.

In due time, the young princess fell into a deep slumber, filled with cigarette dreams, expensive wines, cherry red lips, everlasting nights and a man named Doyoung.

[cherryblossomshadow]

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787927

Summary: Tenten longs to celebrate their first Christmas together, but Neji is out on a mission. Written for @keroribbit during the NejiTen Server's Secret Santa. @ntmonth

Universe/fandom: Naruto

Pairing: NejiTen 💔

Rating: Christmas Fluff

A/N: Hello, this is my first time doing one of these, but I hope you enjoy this short fluff piece.

Warning: This fic isn't set in modern times, but it does reference modern Western Christmas traditions. So, it's still set in Ninja!Konoha, but it's got Christmas just plopped in. I know that Naruto is a Japanese anime, and that Tenten's character has Chinese influences, but I stuck with mostly American christmas traditions, because that's what I knew. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Neji's out on a mission.  He said it’s classified," Tenten explained, taking a sip of her fruity drink.  

"But he'll be back by tonight?  To celebrate?" her friend clarified.

Silently, she shook her head.  

"But Christmas is your favorite holiday!  And it's your first Christmas together!  Neji has to be home for that!"

Tenten sighed at her friend's outburst and stirred her drink.  "I knew what I signed up for as a kunoichi.  You did, too." And as much as she missed him, she knew she could never love anyone who was not as dedicated to her country as she was.  

Her friend noticed her melancholy and sat down to cover Tenten's hands with theirs.  "I know," they agreed quietly.  

"Right now, Konoha needs him more than I do," Tenten turned her gaze toward Hokage Mountain.  "And I'd leave this moment if Konoha needed me, too."

Her friend smiled sadly and said, "As would I. Tenten, I would NEVER question your loyalty to Konoha.  But it is not disloyal to miss him."

Tenten nodded, turning the words over in her mind, even as her friend mercifully changed the subject.  And when she went home that night, as she put out the apples and hung up the stockings, she let herself miss him.  The strong arms that always supported her.  The kind heart that never forgot her.  And the deep-piercing eyes that saw everything about her.  

And she couldn't bring herself to leave the front room, so she bundled up on the couch and prayed to every god she knew for his safety.  Lying there in front of the Christmas tree, waiting for his arrival, reminded her of when she used to lie on the couch waiting for Santa.  The tree was bare of gifts back then, too, as it is tonight. But back then, while she was sleeping, gifts would magically appear under the tree.  No gifts will appear on this night, though, for she had already give him his present and he was not here to give her hers.  

"I know that your Gentle Fist doesn't lend itself to using weapons," Tenten had said, before he left on his top-secret mission.  He turned to her with interest and was surprised by a bundle of senbon. "But your abilities do.  Your eyes see so precisely, even down to the tenketsu, and should you ever not be able to use your Gentle Fist to attack, these should do the trick."

When Neji continued to look down at the wrapped set of senbon, face unreadable, Tenten had blundered on, "They just reminded me of you, and we were talking about rounding out our skillsets, and they're such a sharp and precise weapon, and so underestimated, just like you and ..." She was cut off when Neji whipped out one of the senbon and held it neatly against her lips, like it was shushing her.  

"Tenten."  It was only her name, but she loved every single time he said it.  "Tenten, thank you."

He had pulled her close for a kiss, and she knew, even if he never ever used them, that he would treasure them anyway.  

A loud clatter sounded outside, rousing Tenten from her fitful sleep.  She rubbed at her eyes, realizing she had fallen asleep to her memories, and gasped as she made out the silhouette of a man doused in red at the door.  Her sleepy mind stuttered, 'Santa,' for one second, but then he pitched forward and collapsed on the floor.  Scrambling over to his side, she realized it was her Neji, home at last, robes drenched in the blood of his enemies.  At least, she hoped it was their blood.  Hoisting an arm around her shoulders, she dragged him to the tiled kitchen and checked him over.  No gaping wounds, thank kami, so none of the blood was his.  She changed his clothes, tucked him into her bed, and returned to the couch, falling into a dreamless sleep.  

 ---

"Tenten."  Neji whispered in her ear, startling her awake.  She bolted upright, almost crashing her head into his.  "Whoa!" he shouted, catching her before she sprung off the couch in confusion.  "Merry Christmas?"

Tenten gasped, clearly just now realizing what happened, and she crushed him into a hug.  He gratefully embraced her, savoring the feel of her in his arms. But then she reared back and smacked him in the shoulder.  "Hey!" he squawked.  She turned her face to him, temper swirling in her eyes.  

"How dare you pull a stunt like that?" She yelled.  "You barely made it through the door before you collapsed!  You promised me you would take care of yourself!"

As she let her temper rage, he realized it was only the fear talking. The worry and the anxiety – he could see it in her eyes. He nodded in understanding and opened his arms again, welcoming her back into his embrace.  She went willingly, and he whispered into her hair, "I did not mean to worry you.  I promise, I did take care of myself.  But I had to come see you.  I knew how much this holiday meant to you."  

"There was so much blood," she mumbled into his shirt, her fingers tightening around the fabric.  "I don't know what I would have done if ... Oh, I wish I could do medical ninjutsu.  There was so much blood," she repeated.  

"And none of it was mine," he assured her, petting her hair.  "Do not worry.  In fact, quite a lot of the blood only got onto my shirt when I was retrieving my senbon."

"Your senbon?" she peered up at him curiously. He congratulated himself on successfully changing in subject.  

"Your gift to me.  I found them much more useful than I would have expected," Neji admitted, and she glowed with pride.  "Also, I was transporting something rather chakra-sensitive."

"Chakra-sensitive?"  Her eyebrow wrinkled in confusion.  

"Your Christmas gift, Tenten." He smiled.

She leaned back and narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't tell me that you're my Christmas gift," she mock-accused, obviously preparing to tease him for being cheesy.  

"No, this is your gift."  Neji produced a small scroll from his clothes.  "I sought out Io after wrapping up my mission. He remembered you rather fondly."

She unrolled her present reverently. "Is this...?"

"Jidanda 2.0," Neji presented proudly. "With personalized modifications."

“No way,” she breathed.  

She began to activate the seal, but he hastily stopped her.  "Uh, perhaps you should wait to open it at a Training Ground?  It has retained its rather massive size."  

She snapped the scroll back up and tackled Neji into another hug.  "Oh, Neji, it's perfect!  I thought I would never see another weapon like that again."

Neji chuckled.  "I am certain that Io would never turn away a visit.  He seemed rather excited to hear what you might have to say about the modifications he made to Jidanda."  

She sat back and looked at him with an unreadable expression for a few moments.  He silently returned her gaze, but he could not interpret it.  He had grown accustomed to being able to read her at a glance, but for some reason, he could not guess what she was thinking at the moment.  She seemed … melancholic?  Nostalgic?

“I would have been okay without Jidanda, though,” she finally said.  “As long as you came home to me, that’s all that matters.”  Ah, romantic.  

“I will always come home to you,” he promised.

“You better.”  

A/N:  **I always love poking at missions and loyalty to the village, but I wasn't able to do quite as much as I wanted to. ***Jidanda and Io are a reference to a filler episode (Naruto Shippuden Ep 184) where Tenten uses Jidanda (a faulty weapon invention by inventor Io) to absolutely massacre two randos who were overpowering Neji and Naruto (of all people) with some of Io's other prototypes. Io takes Jidanda back from Tenten to "make adjustments" but I like to think that they keep in touch and he gifts her more hilariously improbable weapons that she finds a way to use impressively.

Hope you enjoyed!  Long Live Neji!