#its just the beard. and the hairstyle that reminds me of him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jazzistolkienfanfics · 4 years

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Beads and Braids - Kili x reader

Type: Imagine Pairing: Kili x reader Summary: post BOTFA, everyone lives!AU, in which Y/N, a girl from Rohan seeking shelter in Erebor, befriends the Princes, and the mischievous Kili needs better ways of confessing his feelings. Warnings: ‘fuck’, ‘shit’ Word Count: 2735

All italicised, non-English words are in Khuzdul, one of the main Dwarvish languages.

Y/N was no stranger to being alone, nor was she unused to being unusual. Being on the run from a dangerous league of hunter assassins that were sweeping through her hometown of Rohan, spending months trying to reach Erebor, the Mountain of Gold, then arriving only to be turned away, had taught her not to care too much about loneliness.

Sure, she’d been allowed in eventually, after she’d insisted to the stingy King Thorin Oakenshield that she had ‘absolutely no fucking interest in your goddamn gold’, but the reminder that she wasn’t wanted in Erebor still stung dully day after day, even as she attempted to bury the emotion beneath layers of stone.

Although, she was no longer completely shunned while in Erebor. The first few weeks had been difficult, especially as she was at least eight inches taller than everyone else, even as a relatively short human - Y/N was surrounded by Dwarves, and it was a transformative experience (she enjoyed being tall for a change).

But as time went on, the Dwarves became far more accepting - mostly because when Bard visited with his children, Sigrid and Tilda (who was the reason they were there, to say hello to the ‘lucky Dwarves from the toilet’, namely Dwalin, her favourite) and saw her, he spouted a whole speech on the helpfulness of humans in the Battle of the Five Armies, especially how a number of them had charged Azog’s numbers, saving the line of Durin. That made Thorin begrudgingly become kinder to her.

Y/N spent most of her days outside the cold fortress, reading old books on Dwarven culture and their previous interrelations with other relations on the ramparts or the grasses below the Mountain. It was on one of such days that she ran into someone who would change her life.

Well, Y/N didn’t run into him.

He really ran into her.

Y/N had been sitting on the ramparts, her legs swinging over the side and continually tucking her h/c hair behind her ears as the wind blew it into her face. A large book with a f/c leather cover that had stood out to her in the towering shelves of the Library was sitting in her lap, gold-leaf lettering across the front of it boldly proclaiming ‘A History of the Honourable Line of Durin’. She’d been told by Balin (a frequenter of the Library) that it was updated often with the latest triumphs of the youngest of the Line of Durin: Thorin, Fili and Kili, the Royals Under the Mountain.

Y/N wouldn’t lie, she was mostly reading it to make fun Thorin, but then again, history was interesting.

She looked up from a particularly hilarious passage about Thorin’s ‘incredible bravery and innumerable acts of service to the Throne of Erebor’ at the harsh cry of a raven. It circled around her, cawing enthusiastically with something less akin to malevolence and more to happiness in its black eyes, before flying off.

Y/N had been smiling but she frowned when she realised that the raven was not flying towards Erebor, as most did, but away from it.

Then it had to be flying away from something … Y/N connected the dots just as the door to the battlements whipped open and something slammed into her back just as she was turning around, knocking her off the ramparts.

She screamed loudly, looking at the ground beneath her and envisioning the fifty different ways she would splatter all over it.

A hand encased in a brown glove but for the fingers suddenly swung into her view, catching ahold of hers in a startlingly tight grip.

Y/N looked up, seeing a Dwarvish face that was at once familiar and entirely seperate from her small existence in Erebor, and she couldn’t put a name to him.

His brown hair reached just past his shoulders, and was not braided. Paired with his beardless, kinda attractive face (stubble did not count in Y/N’s eyes), Y/N reached the conclusion that he was still young, definitely under 100.

He was holding onto her with one of his hands and his other was held by a blonde Dwarf with much more facial hair than the former and a messy blonde mane like a lion who stood behind the battlements where she had been sitting prior to being knocked off by (presumably) one of the two.

Y/N was very impressed that the Dwarf was holding her up with one hand, as she was at least more than half a foot taller than him, but she had no energy to be focused on that emotion beyond the hot fear coursing through her veins.

“Oi! Pull!” the brown-haired Dwarf yelled, and the blonde did so, clenching his teeth and heaving, until all three of them were safe on the ramparts.

“I am so sorry for my brother’s clumsiness, Miss Y/N!” the bearded, seemingly older Dwarf apologised.

“Itkit! (Shut up!)” the younger brother hissed, giving the blonde a scathing glare. “But I do apologise, Lady Y/N.” He emphasised the title he gave her, though it was definitely not one she actually possessed.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N replied to the two enthusiastic Dwarves with confusion etched all over her face. Here they were, having knocked her off the side of a fucking Castle, calling her ‘Lady’ and apparently knowing her name when she could not match a name to either of their faces. “How do you know my name? Do I know you?”

“Oh, that’s right,” the brunette said thoughtfully, turning to his brother. “Uncle Thorin said she was new.”

“He also said she was a-”

“Oh Mahal, shut up! How many languages do I have to say that in?”

Uncle Thorin? Oh shit ....

“Anyway. Prince Fili-”

“-and Prince Kili-”

“At your service!” they both chimed, bowing low in unison and springing back up with wide grins that made them seem a lot younger than they probably were.

“Fuck...” Y/N muttered under her breath, curtseying as low as she could. “My Princes, I apologise-”

Her embarrassed apology was cut short with a squeak flying from her mouth as she was yet again jerked up by Kili, who brushed off her f/c dress that was dirty from falling off the ramparts.

“Lady Y/N, you needn’t apologise; it is technically my fault for knocking you off the walls of Erebor!”

“Then you needn’t call me Lady Y/N,” the girl retorted, almost instantly regretting the familiarity with a royal figure, but also proud when Kili gave a loud laugh and wide smile. “I’m just Y/N.”

“Alright then, Just Y/N,” Kili teased, wiggling his eyebrows and taking her hand, kissing it gently. “On behalf of the Prince of Erebor-”

“-Princes, you little shit,” Fili interrupted, casually spinning a knife on his fingers.

“... Princes of Erebor,” Kili rolled his eyes. “Welcome, new friend.”

---

“You two are unbelievable,” Y/N complained, though a wide smile was affixed on her face.

“We know,” Fili and Kili replied, both still covered in flour from when they’d begun to throw it like snowballs in the middle of baking with her.

“Well, at least we salvaged-” Y/N cut herself off as she took the cake out of the oven. “Mahal. What is that?”

The cake was less a cake, and more a complete mess. Half of it looked gooey and porous, and the other half burnt. Y/N just turned to the brothers, raising an eyebrow.

They eyed each other too, shuffling their feet.

Y/N sighed. “This is why we don’t have food fights in the kitchen, guys.”

Fili and Kili had the decency to look a little sheepish as Y/N turned to dump the mess in the bin. As she did so, she glanced out the window and flinched.

“Shit! I’m meant to meet Bard soon - it’s a meeting of great importance. And I’m not ready, there is flour everywhere, my hair is a mess-”

“Well, we can handle at least one of those things,” Kili told Y/N, lightly pushing her into a chair, his hands clean of flour now. “I know a really good hairstyle for special occasions - our mother used to wear it.”

He began to run his fingers through her hair, gently untangling the knots with a brush Fili gave him (honestly, how much did that Dwarf have in his coat?) and braiding it. Y/N closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his hands in her hair and its soothingness. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, flushing red.

Was she falling for the Prince of Erebor?

No, surely not. After all, he was a dwarf, and she a human: a human the King of Erebor didn’t exactly have a partiality towards. It would never work out.

That doesn’t mean feelings just stop, dumbass. Y/N’s brain reasoned. She rolled her eyes at herself.

“Alright, it’s done! And Fili and I will clean up the kitchen,” Kili announced, pulling her up and lightly dusting off her f/c dress, careful to avoid any areas it was improper to touch, a small hint of pink on his cheeks as he did so. Y/N pulled some of her hair around her shoulders - Kili had done several braids amongst her loose hair, most of them tied with black bands but one with a beautiful bead in it that she didn’t get a proper look at.

(A/N - imagine this hairstyle, but only one bead, and that bead has lots of jewels all in different colours)

“We’ll clean up what?” Fili protested. Kili smirked, pushing her out the door.

“We’ll see you later, Y/N!”

---

Y/N ran as fast as she could, considering her annoyingly impractical skirt, and she finally skidded to a stop in the snow outside the great doors, taking in who was there.

Bard bowed his head in greeting, his eldest daughter, Sigrid by his side. (Y/N had thought she had heard faint giggles from inside, meaning Tilda was hanging out with Dwalin again), Thorin stood impatiently, leaning on his sword, and next to him, keeping a petty distance was …

“My lord Thranduil,” Y/N bowed, having also read all about the infamously glamorous Elvenking of Mirkwood. “I apologise for my tardiness.”

“You are on time, Y/N,” Bard said, giving Thorin a side-eye. The damages of the Battle of the Five Armies went far beyond death.

Thorin chose to sit on a ledge that a) placed him higher than all of those present and b) allowed him to rest. Recovering from being impaled by the Pale Orc was a lengthy process, and one still far from finishing.

“What is the importance of this meeting?” Y/N asked, eager to go back to her chambers and think on the startling discoveries she’d made on what her heart told her about Kili Durin.

“The purpose, Y/N, is for this …”

---

After the meeting, Y/N went to leave, but Thorin called her name, stopping her.

“Yes, my King?”

He reached for one of the braids Kili had put in her hair, smiling kinder than she had ever seen him do so.

“Kili’s bead. So you have not tamed the Lion, but you have chosen the Fox. Loyal, yet cheeky and sweet.”

Y/N opened her mouth, confused, but Thorin kept speaking.

“I congratulate you on your courtship, Y/N. I wish you much love and happiness.”

“My King, I’m sorry, but I am not courting-”

He swept off in a majestic swirl of furs, leaving Y/N with a finger raised and her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

“Courting?” she wondered aloud. “What in Middle-Earth ...”

Suddenly, she recalled Thorin’s observation of ‘Kili’s bead’, and she pulled her hair in front of her face, scanning it for the singular, beautiful silver bead, with its nine differently-coloured gemstones, and some vague thought buried in the back of her brain called to her.

“That Dwarf ...” Y/N cursed colourfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder, picking up her skirts and running as fast as she could to the most familiar area of Erebor.

The Library. Shelves upon shelves, thousands stretching out further than Y/N could see from the entrance. She raced for the section on Dwarvish customs, pulling a dusty red tome titled ‘Dwarves and Their Secrets - The Rites and Customs of Their Culture’ and flipping through it, coughing as swirls of dust swam into the air.

Finding the page she was after, she slammed the open book onto a nearby table, running her finger down the page as her h/c hair fell in her face.

“That little fuck,” Y/N hissed, closing the book with a slam and sliding down one of the shelves until she sat on the floor, her arms curled around her knees, her face hidden from the world and vice verse by her h/l hair.

“So you found out,” a meek voice said, prompting Y/N to lift her head as Kili sat next to her.

“You bet your non-existent beard I did,” Y/N grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Kili mumbled, burying his face in his hands, which were large, the same size as yours. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I liked you. I chose the coward’s way out.”

“I can understand that,” Y/N admitted. “Although telling everyone that why were courting via my hairstyle was not the smartest way of going about it.”

“Well, technically, your hairstyle doesn’t say you are dating. (A/N: this part here is completely made up) These braids in this style, paired with the loose hair actually means unrequited love. And seeing as I did your hair, and I have a matching braid-” he briefly pushed his hair behind his ear, pulling on a small braid, that was, indeed matching, even with a simpler version of the bead, with only two gems. “-it basically tells everyone that I have a crush on you. Uncle Thorin just misunderstood because he only looked at the bead, which he knows I own.”

“What do the gems mean?” Y/N asked, knowing she was avoiding the topic of Kili’s love for her and her possible love for him, but too afraid to cross that bridge.

Kili smiled nervously, already flushing from what he anticipated Y/N’s reaction to be, and he pulled the bead from her hair, pointing to each gem as he explained their meaning.

“The white one with the blue sheen - moonstone. It means patience, like how I am willing to wait for you. This pink one is morganite. It symbolises divine love and prosperity. These two are the ones that I have in my matching bead.” And Y/N saw that this was indeed true.

“The red ruby, which symbolises passion.” Kili’s cheeks looked as red as the jewel as he hurriedly moved on. “An emerald, green, which is fertility. Not only in children, but fertility in the soil that grows the flowers of success. Old wive’s tale. The purple one’s an opal - which is for emotional purity. It’s meant to guard against jealousy and anger. The garnet and the citrine - orange and the yellow - both stand for protection, though the citrine also provides prosperity and success.”

Y/N was completely entranced by his knowledge of the gems, even as he came to the last few.

“This pastel blue one is for fidelity, although I don’t think you need that, you have loads of it.” Y/N and Kili laughed together, and Kili fixed the bead back in her hair.

“Wait! You didn’t explain the last one!” Y/N protested, eager to hear more.

Kili stopped, smiling. “Oh. That’s a sapphire, which means trust, like how I’m trusting you with my heart. But I put it in there because it’s the exact colour of your eyes.”

Y/N was so touched by this last one, that he trusted her with his heart, even after she heard that it had been broken by the death of the Mirkwood elleth, Tauriel, that she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. On the floor, they were a similar height, and he hugged her back lightly.

“You know, Kili of the Line of Durin,” Y/N said teasingly as her arms lingered around his neck, though she pulled back so she could look him in the eye. “I think I need to thank you for the bead and the braids, because you made me realise something.”

“What?” Kili breathed.

“I realised I’m kinda in love with you.”

And hidden in the endless shelves of the library, Y/N kissed him, right there and then.

Hi there guys! I’ll be putting up a dialogue prompts request list soon for you to request UP TO THREE numbers.

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to heart this imagine, give me a follow and/or request (it makes my day so much!).

#kilixreader #xreader #kili #thehobbit #thehobbitxreader #you #x reader #kili x reader #the hobbit #imagine

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thenightgazer · 3 years

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Spark of Stardust

Chapter 1 : An Interstellar Quest It's not a date. Vergil insists upon it, even when he doubts himself as he asks Lyra to accompany him to search for a perfect birthday gift for Kyrie. But just like the dying star that sparks its undying stardust; the "date" is just a start for him to get to know more about Lyra, as the librarian reveals her "little, deepest and darkest secrets"

Warning : implied psychological and drug abuse

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

It starts with a soft hand that brushes his face. The fuzzy sensation wakes him up. The lamp on the ceiling is the first thing he sees when he slowly opens his eyes wide awake. His eyes linger to his surroundings— and that shocks him because he’s no longer in his bedroom at Devil May Cry. He’s awakened in someone else’s bedroom. The wall is painted with warm colours and there is a large bookshelf besides the bed. When he turns his head to his left, he spots toys and trinkets which supposedly belong to a little girl, and there sits a young woman who smiles at him.

Where am I?

“How was your sleep?” she asks him. Her soft hand ruffles his hair gently. “You look so peaceful.”

He’s speechless. Not because he doesn’t want to answer, but his mouth won’t cooperate with his head. His survival instincts scream at him to get away from this situation, but all he could feel is numbness.

“I brought you dinner,” the beautiful woman continues. He observes her cautiously; she is approximately in her thirties, with long brunette hair and brown eyes. She looks like the kind of woman who looks absolutely harmless. The way her body moves is delicate. Her voice sounds appealing as she tells him the menu and hopes he will like it. She gives him the same warm impression as his own mother, but this woman seems shady. Her eyes remind him of someone... but he couldn’t remember the person. The same cold, void eyes...

“The nurse said you haven’t eaten since last night. You refused to take your medicines. Why? Don’t you want to get better?” Her voice turns colder. “When I heard that you refused to eat, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I’m afraid you won’t get better. Now you will eat and take your medicine for me, okay?”

He can’t follow everything she has said just now. Who is this woman? What medicines? What nurse? But his head nods automatically as if his body is controlled by someone else, and that little gesture makes this woman’s warm smile appear on her pretty face again.

“Good. Let’s eat! After that, I’ll read you something exciting. How’s that sound?”

He nods obediently, opening his mouth to eat the porridge. He can’t feel the taste, nor can he sense the texture of the food. But the woman looks at him as if she would blast if he didn’t eat. The sound of friction between the spoon and the bowl drives him crazy. She’s making sure that he swallows the food as she cleans up his mouth. After the bowl is empty, she proceeds to pour something from a bottle—medicine— on a small spoon and look up at him, opening her mouth as a command for him to mimic her gesture. She seems delighted when he swallows the medicine.

“Atta girl.”

What is this nonsense? What is that thing she put inside me?

But he knows he won’t get the answer.

It’s all just a dream, right?

The woman walks to the bookshelf. Her fingers run through the book until she finds the one she desires. She sits back besides him again and opens the book, her fingers scan through the pages.

“You don’t like Cinderella, so I picked up this one,” she shows him the cover of the book. “I guarantee you’ll like it! It’s called The Hobbit, an adventure story. Your favourite, right?”

I do like adventure stories. But it isn’t my favourite. It’s Dante’s…

She starts her storytelling in a clear voice. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit...”

There’s something in her face when she reads. She seems more relaxed and softer than before, as if she got lost in the story. His suspicion is surprisingly gone while he listens to her and the familiarity strikes him again. She reminds him of his own mother when he was a child, reading him bedtime stories. Cambions in their early childhood needed a lot of sleep just like human children, but Dante and he always refused to sleep early and asked for more stories. There’s something peaceful about this familiarity. It calms him, then he decides to close his eyes again whilst the woman’s voice slowly fades away.

---

The dream shatters as Vergil’s cell phone rings loudly.

The hybrid lays still on his bed. He was sleeping for two hours just because he had no other options left to do aside from sleeping. Yet, even though his body doesn’t particularly need to sleep, he hates it when his slumber is interrupted. His hand reaches to find his phone and immediately pick it when he finds it on the desk beside his bed without seeing who’s calling him because he doesn’t bother to open his sleepy eyes.

“Dad?”

That familiar voice forces Vergil to open his eyes.

“Nero?”

“Yeah. You busy?”

“No,” Vergil throws a blanket from his naked chest as he moves his body to sit and brushes his hair. “What’s wrong, Nero?”

Nero doesn’t reply immediately. Vergil can hear a heavy sigh from his son and that makes him a bit anxious.

“Nothing wrong. Just...” The young devil hunter lets out another sigh. “Today is Kyrie’s birthday. She invites you and the crews for dinner at six. Uh… six as in Fortuna time, which is an hour later from Red Grave time. Just in case you got lost in time again.”

“Of course. We will be attending the dinner. Thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s Kyrie who invites you, not me.”

“...”

“... but having you around here is not so bad. The kids were always whining whenever you and Dante left the house.” Nero’s response is almost excited and eager, much to Vergil’s relief.

The picture of Julio, Carlo and Kyle somehow makes Vergil grins. “You did very well taking care of those little rascals.”

“Thanks,” there’s a pause before Nero continues. “Anyway, I should get going. Nico needs my help to do some crazy shit.”

“I hope all is well for you.”

“You too, I guess...” the young man clears his throat. “And... thank you. For accepting the invitation.”

“It’s the least I could do,” The blue devil smiles, his anxiety is gone as their interaction goes smoothly. “Carry on, son.”

“Y-yeah— bye, then.”

Warmth fills Vergil’s heart as he cleans up his bed and folds the blanket neatly. Never in his life would he have thought that he’d become a father. Even though it was unplanned, having a son does change his life. He has no parental figures to ask advice from and those parenting books are not helping at all, but he learns at his own pace. Two years of effort of atonement is nothing compared to his sins, yet he wants the very best for Nero and is very protective to him.

Then the word stings him.

Birthday, huh?

Ever since he was a little boy, Vergil has never understood the concept of celebrating birthdays. For him, birthday is just another day to pass. If anything, it seems like people love to celebrate the day when their life spans decrease. People are getting old, so what? Why do we celebrate that irony? Is that because of the presents and cake? Little Vergil never found the answer, but he did feel happy whenever he received presents and ate his birthday cake, even if that means he had to share it with his twin, Dante (he had given up the dream of having his own cake, since being twins means sharing almost everything). He didn’t even think about birthdays until Nero reminded him.

I wonder if he knows his birthday...

Vergil walks to the bathroom and washes his face. He looks at the mirror and the man guy in the mirror stares back at him. His reflection somehow reminds him of the strange dream. What was that dream about? It seems visceral, like it was my own memory. His heartbeat gets faster when he has a dreadful negative thought that it could be Mundus’ mind manipulation. If that was Mundus, it’s too pointless. He’d use my own memories to torture me, not with some kind of irrelevant vision.

“Mornin’,” Dante shoves himself besides Vergil and yawns. “I’m hungry.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hungry.”

Dante bursts into laughter. “Since when are you into dad jokes?”

“I’ll take the shower first.” Ignoring Dante’s question, Vergil picks up a dry towel and gets inside the shower cubicle.

Dante takes off his shirt and stretches his muscles. He washes his face and begins to shave his beard. “You said you fought Angelo demons at last week’s gig, right? Heard from Lady the same Angelo demons got sighted at another city. We still don’t have any information on who created and summoned them.”

Vergil wipes the droplets of water from his face. “It seems like those Angelo demons were none like all the artificial demons we have ever seen before. Their form, their abilities, their durability. They looked rather... futuristic, I'd say. I got an impression that the new Angelo was created mostly by advanced science rather than magic.”

“Another thing happened these past weeks. There are three outbursts at restricted medical facilities in different cities.”

“What medical facility?”

“Trish said that the three of them were research laboratories owned by Ravenhill Corporation.”

“Isn’t that the same corporation that won a peace award or something like that?”

“Yeah. The Ravenhills are an influential aristocrat with power over the health and security industry. Most of the health facilities in this world are sponsored and if not, owned by Ravenhill Corporation. They have a branch company here in this city too.”

“And do you think those incidents have a connection with the appearance of Angelo demons?”

“Just a gut feeling, but that’s worth investigating, better safe than sorry, aight?” Dante brushes his hair and flips it back like Vergil. “Hey, I look just like you with this hairstyle! Perhaps I should go with this style from now on.”

“If you’re done talking, get out of the bathroom.”

“This is MY bathroom!”

“And I’m the one who cleans up the mess you’ve created in this house, Dante.”

“Fine~!” Dante chuckles as he cleans up the remaining shaving foam from his jaw. “Have you bought something for Kyrie’s birthday? Got missed calls and a text about the dinner party from Nero.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ve been thinking of giving her a fancy revolver. Heard from Nero that she’s quite good at using guns.”

“... do you really think that women fancy weapons as a gift?”

“Trish and Lady do. But hey! You can go ask our clever librarian!” Dante's face lightens up in exhilaration.

Vergil turns off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist as he opens the cubicle. “What do you mean by ’our’?!”

“Yours, then. She’s a normal civilian woman. Perhaps she can recommend you a perfect gift for Kyrie.”

No, if only you know that she’s not normal! “... you’re probably right.”

A teasing whistle comes from Dante as he takes off his pants and walks inside the cubicle. “As Yoda said, Verge, ‘ do or do not. There is no try ’. Call her and ask her out for a date.”

“I’m not taking any advice from a man who has rotten luck with women. And who is Yoda?”

“Call it what you want it. If you’re not asking her out, I’ll go ask her by myself.”

“Not before I step over your dead body.”

“Ha! Someone’s jealous for realsies~”

Vergil walks away from the bathroom before his inner turmoil tempts him to try to kill Dante… again. His insolent brother might have been teasing him too much, but in a way he’s right. He needs to find someone trusted enough to help him buy the perfect gift for Kyrie.

But she’s on duty today is her work day. I won’t make it right on time to the party if I have to wait for her shift to end.

He’s still thinking about it when he enters his room on the second floor and grabs his phone. Lyra’s contact name is showing up, but he hesitates. It’s still 9 o’clock. The library must have just opened.

After having a quite long internal battle with himself, he decides to call her anyway.

It takes a little bit long for Lyra to finally pick up her phone. Vergil catches the sound of her voice and a man’s laugh who Vergil assumes is Nate. “Bugger off for a minute, will you? — Clayton here.”

“Lyra.”

“Oh, hello Vergil!”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all! Is there anything I can help you with?”

“... yes.”

“Are you okay? You sound like you want to cry.”

“I am certainly not,” Vergil groans at Lyra’s giggle. “Yet, I do believe I need your help.”

“Name it!”

“... it’s about a birthday present.” Vergil clears his throat. “Do you remember Kyrie, my son’s fiancée? She will be celebrating her birthday this evening. She invited Dante and I to her house for dinner.”

“I see.”

“Kyrie has always been there for Nero,” he continues. “She helped guide him to become the person he is now. She took care of him while I wasn’t there for him. She’s an important person to my son. That’s why... at least I have to show her some respect.”

“By giving her a decent birthday present.”

“Yes.”

“I think she will appreciate everything you give to her.”

“She will, certainly. She’s too polite to reject a present, but I don’t want her to think that I’m a careless father-in-law by giving her a gratuitous gift.”

“You’re right. I’d be delighted to accompany you to buy the present, but…I’m on duty right now. I’m afraid I couldn't help you any further.”

“That I know. That’s why I call for your advice.”

“I suggest something small, but meaningful. You told me she love to sing, right? Maybe a vinyl of classical music would — what in the bloody—! Nate! Give me back my phone at once!”

Vergil hears them grumbling and arguing at something. He considers to just hang up the phone given to his hunch that Lyra and Nate are probably having a fight right now, but suddenly he hears Nate’s voice as the young librarian speaks to him.

“Mr. Vergil? It’s Nate!”

This scoundrel's audacity...! “I recognize your voice, Nathaniel. What are you doing with Lyra’s phone?”

“Err... sorry for the interruption, but Lyra forced me to tell you this myself, or else you won’t believe her! I told her that I don’t mind if she wants to go on a date with you! My father won’t be checking on the library today!” Nate lets out a dry chuckle to break the ice, but since Vergil says nothing, Nate continues to speak. “She insisted on at least working today, so I told her to finish the duty earlier so she could spend her time with you. That’s all! Oh yeah, a little advice here; Lyra has a terrible sense of direction, means that you should hold her close— ouch!”

A sound of a book slapped on Nate’s head comes to Vergil’s ear. The next is Lyra’s nervous voice talking to him. “Vergil? You heard Nate. So... we meet at three. How’s that sound?”

“I’ll pick you up at the library.”

“Okay!”

“Then... I’ll see you around.”

“Cheerio!”

Vergil hangs up the phone, unexpectedly feeling the queasiness after he recalls the word ‘date’ as Dante and Nate said earlier. Foolish. We are not dating. We are just going to buy a birthday present. That’s all. Stop this unnecessary disquietude. It’s just Lyra—

“Tell me you’re not gonna go on a date with your boring clothes!”

Vergil hardly glances to his side and sees Patty’s figure standing by his door. The twenty years old girl is wearing an apron and holding a broom in her hand. “At least wear something stylish! You and Dante are all hopeless! No wonder the two of you haven’t gotten married yet!”

“I believe that’s none of your concern, Miss Lowell. And although I lack what humans would consider common sense, the last time I know about human norms and etiquette, that it is rude to trespass on someone's private space and eavesdrop on other people’s conversation.”

“I’m not eavesdropping! I just happened to pass this room while cleaning this house because lately you are not present in this house and Dante is being a lazy bastard as usual! Show some gratitude!”

“Thank you for your help. But as you can see now, I am here and that means I will do the household job while you can go disturb Dante’s peace now.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Dante shouts from the first floor.

“Anyways, let me help you to choose better clothes for you!” Patty insists. “I don’t know who this girl is because Dante won’t tell me, but she seems special to you. You need to dress at your best! Impressing a girl on their first date is a must!”

“I’ll forgive your impudent attitude this time if you kindly close the door, Miss Lowell. I need to put some clothes on.”

Realizing that Vergil wears nothing but a towel wrapped on his waist, Patty flusters as she looks away and grabs the door knob violently. “Fine!”

The blue devil chuckles softly when he hears Patty goes downstairs and screams at Dante for whatever antics that he does right now. He searches through his wardrobe, pondering if Patty was right. And maybe she is. He’s about to blend into society, that means he needs to look less suspicious. He should wear something casual and humane.

Humans and their fashion. Even demons are much simpler.

He picks some clothes with a hope that he won’t look too ridiculous.

---

“Do you think he’s the type of person who brings flowers for a date?” Nate throws paper planes at Lyra’s direction, which she blocks it all with a book.

“Why do you insist that this is a date? We are friends. Friends go hang out sometimes.” Lyra says.

“Dammit, Lyre! You are older than me but I can’t believe you’re so clueless about this. Even idiots could tell that he likes you!”

Lyra groans desperately. “That’s it. That’s the problem of modern society. People nowadays confuse politeness with flirting!”

“Sometimes both work simultaneously! And that’s the case of Mr. Vergil. Sure, he’s polite to everyone even though he always looks like he wanted to kill someone. But he’s different with you; he’s not just polite, but kind. That’s two different things!”

Lyra half-heartedly listens to Nate’s babble; despite she already knows what is inside Nate’s mind. She knows what he means about Vergil being kind only to her, and Nate’s mind interprets how soft Vergil is whenever he’s around her. The thought of those forms of romanticism confuses her. Being a telepath, she has seen and listened into people’s minds for almost her entire life. She’s no stranger to the concept of love according to universal belief, yet she still doubts its existence.

Sometimes, what people think about something isn’t always synchronized with how they feel about it.

And speaking of which, I haven’t heard Nate’s thoughts since fifteen seconds ago...

“He’s here!” Nate declares as he looks up at the window near the front door. “Wait, uh... is it really him?”

“What?”

“He looks... different.” Nate mumbles. “And he didn’t bring flowers. Guess he’s not the flower type of guy.”

“On the contrary, he is.” Lyra takes a brief look at her appearance in the mirror and puts on eyeglasses before giving a wink at Nate. “See you tomorrow!”

“Now who’s excited about the date!?”

She giggles throughout her journey to the front door, only to be surprised when she opens the door and finds Vergil standing in front of her and about to open the door too. But today he looks stunningly different; he is wearing as black shirt beneath a navy-blue casual coat. His dark trousers make him look taller than usual. He changes his footwear into a pair of black chukka boots. Even with his usual warrior clothes, Vergil Sparda is already breathtakingly handsome. His casual look just enhances his majestic stature.

Lyra has never really given any attention to fashion, but now she can’t take her eyes off of him. “What’s with the sudden change in your sense of fashion?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it!” she blurts. “You look… so… normal”

“Is it just me or does it sound like an insult?”

“It’s a compliment!”

“... thank you, I suppose,” Vergil reluctantly scratches his nape. “Shall we go now?”

“Let’s!”

Lyra glares at Nate who’s giving her double thumbs up and loudly wishing her good luck before she closes the door.

“So,” the librarian walks side by side with Vergil. “Do you remember I mentioned that I purchased my devil arm at an antique shop?”

“Yes. What’s with that?”

“I think it’s a good place to start our quest. The shop sells antique weapons, jewelries, old books and trinkets. Perfect collection for Kyrie.”

“Very well. Where’s this shop located?”

“Nova Town.”

“It’s too far from here.”

“Lucky for us, you have Yamato.”

“I’m beginning to think that you see me as a mere means tool of transportation.”

“Maybe,” she winks playfully. “But you are too decent to be a mere tool, my dearest friend.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, “Let’s find an empty alley first.”

---

“That was the first time I saw Lyra smiling like that,” Nate mutters at himself as he taps something on his cell phone. “Good for her! Ever since I saw their chemistry on the murder in the library weeks ago, I know they’re going to form a relationship soon!”

The twenty four years old librarian giggles at his own fantasy while drowning himself further into a mobile game he always plays whenever he has free time. He almost startled himself when the bell rings and a customer comes in. Nate abruptly pauses the game and greets the guest. “Welcome to The Literarium!”

The guest — a tall and ginger-haired man — returns Nate’s greeting with a nod. A suspicion arises in Nate’s head as he observes the man’s eyes that are covered with sunglasses. Why the hell does he wear sunglasses indoors? He continues to follow the man’s movement, which is also suspicious. The man seems detached from reality as he stares at one of the shelves quite long without really doing anything, not even touching the books. He walks slowly to another section, again without any interest in the books. The man seems eager to look for something as he repeatedly tilts his head to look outside the window, but Nate is certain that he’s not here for books. Then why bother coming here if he’s not interested in books? Nate clicks his pen anxiously. Paranoia begins to consume him. What if he wants to rob this place?!

The ginger-haired man approaches the sale section and finally picks a book. He looks at the cover briefly before heading to the counter. Nate fakes a polite smile when he scans the book— Lord of the Flies by William Golding— and forces himself to make a small talk. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

The man nods while giving Nate his money. “I agree.”

“You like allegorical one, huh?”

The man furrows his brow. “Sorry?”

Nate lifts the copy of Lord of the Flies . “You don’t know that Golding wrote one of the best allegorical novels all the time?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I only recognized it as one of the bestseller books,” the man chuckles. His laughter surprisingly sounds very friendly. “I picked it because the synopsis reminds me of the past.”

“Jesus, what a chaotic past you must have back then.” Nate gives him the book and his change.

“Quiet so,” the man flips the page, but Nate can sense he’s focusing on another thing. “By the way, the woman who wears eyeglasses… She came out from this place with a man about five minutes ago. Does she work here?”

Shit, another Lyra’s admirer. That explains my suspicion! “Yeah. You know her?”

“She looks like a person I used to know. Quite different, but I spot some similarities.”

“Maybe they are the same person?”

“The same person?” the man chuckles again as he closes the book. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“She died years ago.”

“Oh, man… I’m so sorry...”

“It’s fine. She wasn’t related to me, just a person I knew. At first glance, your friend looks eerily similar to her,” the man’s face abruptly turns into doubt and anxious. Nate swears he can see his hands tremble. “I was terribly surprised when I saw your friend out there. I thought the woman I knew was alive again. What is the name? Your lady friend, I mean.”

“Louisa.” Nate lightly says his lie as soon as he’s aware of the man’s intention. I’m not doing anything wrong. Lyra told me to fake a name in case some flirty bastards ask me her name.

“Louisa, then. Pretty name,” the man seems pleased at Nate’s answer. “Thank you. Lovely library, anyway. Good day for you.”

“Thank you. Happy reading and have a good day!”

He’s different from any of Lyra’s secret admirers, Nate feels uneasy about the man’s strange attitude even though the man has already taken his leave. He makes a mental note to contact Lyra soon after he closes the library. “That guy looks like he’s about to plan something fishy. But I can’t disturb Lyra and Mr. Vergil right now.”

Nate grabs his cell phone and restarts the game with a hope that nothing bad would happen.

---

She’s strangely quiet today.

Ever since they arrived at Nova Town, Vergil catches something unusual from Lyra. She guides the way to the antique shop without talking to him but carefully watches her surroundings. But at the same time, she seems to lose her focus and sometimes stares blankly at something. They have been walking for almost 30 minutes and they haven’t arrived at the antique shop yet. Also, that’s not the only thing from her that is unusual... “You wear eyeglasses.”

“Huh?” Lyra automatically touches her eyeglasses. “Why? You don’t like a girl with eyeglasses?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“You have a funny way to compliment others, don’t you?”

“I have never seen you wearing eyeglasses before. I thought I was looking at a completely different person when you opened the door earlier.”

“I always wear eyeglasses whenever I’m out to shop, just for aesthetic purposes. I’ll take it off if that makes you uncomfortable—”

“Please don’t. You look lovely with that.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. Are we getting closer to the shop?”

“… I think so?”

Vergil stops abruptly, “Tell me we are not lost.”

“W-we’re not!” she stutters in panic. “I’m just having a little confusion here, because this town looks different from the last time I came here. It has only been two years and the town is already changing...”

“Are you even certain that we are in the right town?”

“One hundred percent certain!”

“Then tell me,” Vergil curves a devilish grin. “Is Nathaniel right? That you have a terrible sense of direction?”

A light blush blooms on Lyra’s face. “Uh... yeah— but we are in the right town! For real! Just because I have a terrible sense of direction, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot!”

“Yet we are lost, aren’t we?”

“We are not! See that monument over there? It’s the town’s icon. We just have to turn left to that road and the antique shop should be on the right corner.”

Vergil watches the monument that Lyra mentioned before he glances at her again with doubtful looks. “Alright, then. But why don’t you use… what is it again... GPS?”

“Later. I’m practicing my sense of direction by practicing my telepathic ability.”

“Does your telepathic ability have something to do with your sense of direction?”

“Since the murder in the library, I’m practicing to read people’s mind whenever you’re around me because your magical defense blocks my telepathic ability. Normally, all I need to do is just focus on their minds and find out if some of them have knowledge of the place I’m about to go.”

“Why bother? You still can read minds by touching their body parts.”

“That’s impractical! Not everyone wants to be touched. Just imagine if I need to touch a person with haphephobia.”

“I thought you like it when you don’t have to read minds anymore.”

“Just in case of an emergency. Who knows if we would find any strange cases again, or if I’m stuck with Dante and there’s an urgent situation where I’m required to smuggle into someone’s head.”

“Hold on. Your telepathy doesn’t work on Dante too?”

“I guess the power of Sparda includes protection from telepaths.”

“I see. Now I understand,” Vergil scoffs. “The reason why you were awfully quiet since we stepped in this town is that you tried to practice your telepathic ability to find out the antique shop’s direction, so you won’t embarrass yourself in front of me because you have poor sense of direction and you think having to use GPS would make you look unreliable as a guide.”

Lyra hides her hands behind her back and stares at the ground, which to Vergil indicates that everything he said is true and that she’s embarrassed to admit it. To be very honest, he doesn’t think that Lyra does something wrong. He just wants to clarify things behind her unusual behavior, but it unconsciously sounds like he’s scolding her for her little secret.

“Just use the GPS if you need it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. That won’t make me think less of you.”

Lyra seems to hesitate at first, but eventually shrugs and takes her phone out from her bag. Vergil quietly smirks at her surrender.

“Fortunately, we’re on the right track!” She shows Vergil the map. “Thank you for your encouragement, Vergil. That’s the longest advice you ever said to me.”

He shrugs it off. “I guess that’s what friends are for.”

“Still, that means a lot to me.”

“Just forget it. Then how’s your practice going?”

“Still doing my best. The first time I tried to read someone’s mind without touching them whenever you were around me, it was all nothing. But now I can see blurry images and hear buzzing sound!” She smiles at him, her eyes beam as she points at the rustic shop at the corner of the street. “Look! We've arrived!”

When Vergil enters the antique shop, he expects the shopkeeper to greet them with unstoppable pestering offers like all the shopkeepers normally do. That’s why he hates shopping. Thankfully the shopkeeper is sleeping on the counter, like she doesn’t care if someone steals one of the items. The shop itself is quiet and the goods are all unique. The problem is, Vergil doesn’t know where to start searching. There are many items that Vergil puts a certain degree of interest in—necklaces, bracelets, clocks, paintings—but he doesn’t think that it would be useful or meaningful to Kyrie. He starts to think about Dante’s suggestion to give her a weapon for self-protection. It seems easier than this endless searching.

“Do you know the biggest dilemma when it comes to shopping? You expect to find a certain thing, but when you’re in the shop, suddenly you’re not sure what to buy anymore.” Lyra chuckles at Vergil’s confused expression.

“Evidently,” Vergil picks an antique revolver. “I think I want to give her a weapon.”

“Is Kyrie an excellent combatant?”

“She can take care of herself, though she still needs a lot of practice, but she won’t survive a second if she had to fight multiple opponents.”

“Mmmm... okay but... how about something for protection from the demons?”

“That will do. It’s way more practical and useful.”

“Alright. Let’s ask the shopkeeper.”

Vergil points his chin at the counter. “She’s sleeping.”

“I’ll wake her up.” Lyra fixates her focus on the shopkeeper until she slowly raises her head from the counter table and rubs her eyes.

Vergil almost couldn’t hide his amusement. She can wake someone up from slumber? How advanced is her ability actually?

The shopkeeper yawns loudly. “Welcome. How can I help y’all?”

“We’re looking for an item for protection from demons. Do you have anything suitable for that?” Lyra asks.

The shopkeeper looks straight to Lyra’s eyes, then to Vergil’s. She sighs as she walks to the weapon cabinet. “I don’t have much of that, but I have this one. Take a look.” she mumbles, handing Lyra a red music box. The music box looks captivating with a rose pattern carved on the box. When Lyra opens the music box, Vergil recognizes the box is playing Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier.

“Lovely, but I don’t see what’s so special about the music box,” Vergil mutters his doubt.

“Easy, dude. Push the button near the mirror to open the secret room behind it.”

Lyra does the exact instruction until the secret room is opened and reveals a golden bracelet inside.

“What’s that for?” Lyra asks.

“It will glow red whenever there's demons nearby,” the shopkeeper lights her cigarette and walks back to the counter. “When the bracelet glows, you press it and close your eyes, because it will cast a very blinding light. It’ll blind and burn demons and that’s the best time for you to run away.”

Lyra glances at Vergil, who’s examining the music box and the bracelet. She holds her giggle when she notices that the bracelet glows in red when Vergil holds it and abruptly puts it back to the secret room behind the mirror before the shopkeeper notices it.

“I guess the bracelet couldn’t distinguish demons and cambions,” she whispers to him.

“This should be fine,” Vergil forms a satisfied grin. “It has both protection advantage and aesthetical function. Perfect.”

“You take that?!” the shopkeeper shouts eagerly.

“Yes,” Vergil replies. “Is there a money-back guarantee in case the item doesn’t properly work?”

“This is an antique shop, dude. Some items might not working at all—”

“I believe I don’t have to repeat myself.” Vergil insists.

The shopkeeper gulps at Vergil’s unspeakable death threat within his icy eyes, knowing that there’s no use to argue with a man like Vergil. “Dammit, fine! Now can I get my money?”

Lyra howls with laughter, “Blimey, you are a terrifying customer.”

Vergil grins in pride as he heads to the counter.

---

The birthday party will begin in an hour, but Vergil chooses to spend the rest of the time with Lyra at the Sparda Manor. During the day time, they only meet in the library. That makes their little adventure today seem rare... and fun. Lyra buys them ice creams at the end of their journey in Nova Town. She can’t hold her laughter when she catches Vergil’s eyes sparking in childish interest as he holds his ice cream once the magic portal opens its way to the Manor.

“The shopkeeper was different from the one whom I met two years ago. He was nice and helpful,” Lyra murmurs, licking her bubblegum ice cream. “Guess he didn’t work there anymore. We get a sleepyhead instead.”

Vergil says nothing as he examines his blueberry ice cream cone. His memory of V eating cheeseburger hits him. “Why do humans think that creating something messy is a good idea?”

“It’s called innovation, Vergil.”

“Messy innovation.”

“As long as people like it, it is considered as a great innovation.”

He finally gives up and chomps his ice cream. “This is not bad.”

“Tell me this is not your first time eating ice cream.”

“I might be inexperienced in human lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I never tasted ice cream.”

It’s strange, Vergil recalls the moment when they used to be strangers before Almagest helped them to get closer. Now they stand side by side and talk about stuff like old friends to the point where he could never get enough of her companionship. He lets her wander around his childhood house, even if he barely calls it a house now. He lets out a silent chuckle when she lifts a pile of rocks up to the air just to see what hides behind it, only to find another ruins and she’s slightly disappointed.

“For a second I thought your father was Johann Sebastian Bach.” Lyra looks up at Sparda’s family painting.

“You are not the first person who said that.”

She laughs. “Oh look at you… stoic since you were born. And I already got a picture on Dante being impatient while the painter kept asking him to stand still.”

“Pretty much correct. He complained how itchy his feet were at the end of the session.”

“Your mother was gorgeous,” Lyra admires Eva’s angelic stature. “No wonder Sparda fell for her.”

Vergil forms a wistful smile. “She was.”

“This painting reminds me of The Picture of Dorian Gray .”

“Pray tell, why?”

“Dorian sold his soul to the devil for eternal youth, and it decayed his self-portrait painting every time he did a sin. Of course your family portrait is a different case, but you see, your mother’s face is the only one that didn’t get burned by fire. It’s like a sign that she was the only human in the family…”

“And the rest of the family members were cursed by the evil blood that ran in their veins. That’s why the faces of the three of us were burned. That’s a picturesque perspective.”

“I didn’t say that demon is always evil—”

“I know. Still, it’s a good metaphor. Haven’t thought of it myself.”

“Why don’t you take the painting with you? People keep their family portrait in their house.”

“Dante and I agreed to leave it here as a sign that this mansion once belonged to our family. Besides, I can’t imagine such a painting to be hanged on the shop’s soiled wall. It would be a disgrace for the painting itself.”

“Now that you mentioned it, I think you are right.”

Lyra continues to lift some rocks and put it back carefully once she finds nothing interesting.. “Have you been in there again after you escaped the Underworld with Dante?”

“To collect mementos, yes. Though, as you can see, nothing much was left since Urizen destroyed the whole city. Not to mention almost all parts of the house were destroyed or blocked by pillars and huge stones. We tried to remove them, but it’d cause a domino effect throughout the manor and demolish it completely.” 

“How did it feel to visit your childhood home again?”

Vergil swallows his ice cream at once. He puts a handkerchief out from his coat and wipes his lips. “It felt mostly heartbreaking.”

“I see,” Lyra nods and gives Vergil a light pat on his shoulder. “Not everyone could even come back to the place where their trauma began. Not that it’s necessary. I just found it encouraging.”

“Speaking of memento, what was the most valuable present you had ever received?” Vergil curiously asks.

“Oh, we start to have a small talk now?”

“I thought we agreed to trust each other, don’t we? Then we should start from mundane things.”

“Alright. Make sense. Let me recall it… mmmm… oh right! A lyre!”

“You play lyre? Amazing.”

“I thought you were about to say ironic.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You know, a lyre plays a lyre.”

Vergil smirks, recalling her remark on their previous little adventure, “You’re right. It’s ironically amazing.”

The librarian rolls her eyes as she bites the ice cream cone. “My mum bought me one for my fifth birthday. It only lasted for two months before I asked her to give me a harp for the next birthday.”

“Did she finally buy you a harp?”

“She didn’t.”

“Why?”

“She died before my next birthday.”

Vergil immediately stared at Lyra’s sullen eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles at him, chewing the last part of her cone. “It was a long time ago.”

Lyra has so many things she hides behind her amicable demeanor, and Vergil should’ve feel relieved because after all these months, Lyra finally opens up a little bit about her family, yet he doesn’t feel it at all.

“Were you close with your mother?” Vergil’s tone is full of consideration.

Lyra taps her fingers on her chin. “I guess so. We only had each other.”

“… How did she… die?”

The librarian smirks at him. “If I told you she fell from the tree, would you believe me?”

“Only if that’s the truth.”

She goes silent for a while, seeming unwilling to continue her story. She opens an empty drawer, looking at nothingness for a while. “You might’ve heard about her.”

“Your mother?”

“Uh-uh,” Lyra nods calmly, but Vergil senses a slight hesitation. “Her name was Asteria Crescent.”

Impossible! “The award-winning astronomer?”

“Astrobiologist, yes.”

“I see. That explains your fondness of astronomy.”

The first time Vergil heard about Asteria Crescent was when he was eleven years old, still homeless and constantly moved out from place to place in search of power. Asteria’s groundbreaking research of modern astrobiology broke the news. Her discovery led the scientists to rethink human’s position in this world and question the exact location of the Underworld in the known universe, considering demons as an extraterrestrial creature with its own origin and evolution. Demons and magic are inseparable, but Asteria Crescent was brave to make a further step to explain demonology in a scientific approach. Science and magic are two sides of a coin , Vergil recalls her statements. Science just has yet to understand magic.

“Asteria was a Titan goddess of falling stars and nighttime divinations. That suited her very well,” Lyra chuckles bitterly, swinging her hand to lift a pile of ruins back to its place. “I once wondered why she didn’t name me Hecate, daughter of Asteria and goddess of witchcraft. Maybe at that time, she didn’t have a thought that someday I’ll develop this… psychic ability.”

“The media never reported anything regarding her cause of death. It happened all so sudden, they said.”

“They always spoke highly of her. But when she died, they turned the story into rumors and gossip.”

“So did she fall from the tree?”

“She did fall.”

“But not from the tree.”

Vergil’s demonic eyes catch Lyra’s body slightly flinching, but she maintains her calmness and fakes a smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you further about your private life.”

“You entrusted me your biggest secret. I intend to do so. I’m just… not ready to open up, but I know that I want to.”

“When I said that we should try to trust each other, I didn't mean that you should abruptly open yourself to me.”

“Too late. Now you know I’m the daughter of a dead astrobiologist.”

“Why did you change your surname then?”

Lyra stops and gazes at Vergil. She seems anxious while glancing at her surroundings carefully, as if she’s afraid that someone else would hear them. Vergil slightly bows his body when Lyra whispers in his ear.

“I’m being hunted.”

The furrow on Vergil’s brow is going deeper. “By whom?”

“Someone who wants to abuse my power. That’s why I need to change my surname and hang out around wearing eyeglasses, so people won’t find out about my identity.”

For a moment, they stand still there, staring at each other’s eyes to find some clues. It’s logical that Lyra’s unique ability would attract power-seekers, be it humans or demons. Vergil knows it too well; the danger of possessing a greater power. A part of him wants to believe her words…

If only he failed to spot a subtle grin on the corner of her lips.

I would be absolutely fooled by her deception, Vergil grunts discontentedly. "You are lying, aren’t you?”

Lyra’s laughter echoes throughout the lake.

Vergil snarls at her unstoppable giggle. "Quite a jester, I see.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Vergil doesn’t bother to reply, because he knows it would lead to another bickering. He doesn’t try to hide his amused smile too, even though Lyra teases him about the ‘sly devil smile’. To be honest, he couldn’t care less. He just wants to see her smile, her true smile.

Like the way she’s smiling right now.

“Do you want to have a look at the lake?” Vergil offers, trying to lift the mood. “There’s nothing left to see here.”

“Sure!”

They sit on the cobblestone pier in the lake while admiring the twilight sky. It’s Vergil’s favorite place, ever since he was a child. This place has changed; there are no more Qliphoth roots left and there are several trees and wildflowers growing on the land. The lake no longer contains human blood. It’s mesmerizing how fast time flies and changes the entire city.

“I used to spend my days here, reading and playing with Dante,” Vergil says. “We loved being here more than staying indoors.”

“I can see the reason. It’s bloody beautiful here.” Lyra mutters her admiration. She taps her fingers on the cobblestone playfully, causing a small rift in the lake.

“Dante once pushed me to the lake because we fought over a chocolate bar,” Vergil recalls one of his precious memories. “I pretended to be drowned. He pulled me out of the water and cried, pleaded to me for not leaving him alone and that he’s sorry. Promised me that he won’t disturb me again. Right when he shook my body to wake me up, I pushed him to the lake but he managed to drag me with him.”

Lyra can’t hold her howls of laughter. She chortles until her stomach hurts and her throat gets sore. Vergil swears he never saw her laughing like this. “I’m sorry— I— HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Lower your voice,” Vergil grunts. He starts to regret his decision for rambling about his childhood antics just to get rid of Lyra’s gloomy face. “You might end up choking yourself to death.”

“ Pfffftttt!”

“Will you shut up?!”

“Sorry!” Lyra bites her thumb to hold her cackle but fails. “I just… bwahahaha! It seems that ‘never hold a grudge to the people who wronged you’ is true!”

Vergil pulls her thumb away from her teeth, caressing her reddened thumb. “A little deeper, you would bleed your thumb.”

The careful touch from Vergil distracts Lyra for a while. It’s the first time he holds her without gloves on, and it surprises her how soft his palm is despite the fact that he is a warrior who wields various weapons. Her thumb slips lightly from his palm. “Even if I bleed, I got your Lucy Pevensie’s cordial to heal me.”

Vergil sighs heavily as he removes some strands of Lyra’s hair from her forehead. “I gave it to you for an emergency case only. The cordial was made mostly from demon’s blood, mixed with rare herbs and some complicated spells to make it suitable for human’s bodies. Even the bottle was made from demon’s materials to prevent physical damage. Trish produced only a few bottles of cordial, so use it wisely.”

“I will,” Lyra picks out the cordial bottle from her bag and shows it to Vergil. “See? I haven’t used it since Capulet.”

“Put it back into your bag before it slipped from your hand and fell into the lake.”

“Alright alright! Why do you sound a lot like my mother?” Lyra puts the bottle back into her bag.

“You are clumsy and easily distracted. I have to keep my eyes on you every time. It’s rather distressing.”

“I can take care of myself!” Lyra lays a punch on Vergil’s chest. “Remember, I weakened Phantom last week, so you devil twins could kill that spider easily!”

The cambion smirks disdainfully to her weak strike. He puts something off from the back of his coat and hands it to Lyra. It’s an old book with a black leatherbound with the title engraved in a beautiful golden emboss. “Your payment for escorting me today.”

Lyra observes the front cover with beaming eyes. “The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe...”

“It’s one of the mementos I brought from the Manor. I reckon you would love Poe, given to your fondness of horror and mystery.”

“Then I have to refuse! It’s yours!”

“I believe I made myself clear when I said the book is for you.”

Lyra was about to refuse again, but quickly zip her mouth when Vergil glared at her with his terrifying and undeniable gaze. He won’t take any ‘no’ from her. She flips the pages, and something almost falls from the book before Lyra catches it quickly; an antique necklace with an obsidian pendant. She takes a closer look at the pendant and recognizes the familiar white, shiny dots pattern on it— the Lyra constellation.

“… did you pick this one too from the manor?” Lyra asks carefully.

“… it was from the antique shop.”

“I didn’t see you strolling around the jewelry section.”

“It was displayed on the counter. Nothing special. Just normal jewelry. The pattern just reminded me of you—”

Vergil can’t finish his sentence because Lyra wraps her arms between his waist, locking him in a tight embrace. He can feel the strange, but comfortable warmth fills his body as he returns to hug her without hesitation. Her body is so small and shorter compared to his height that he needs to bow slightly in order to balance the embrace. He loves her scent— a strange mixture of peach, black tea and old roses— and quietly inhales the intoxicating fragrance from her hair. He feels like he could do this all day.

“Thank you,” Lyra’s murmur vibrates his chest. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“It's just a book and a necklace.”

“These are the best presents since the lyre from my mum!” she chuckles. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually hug people around.”

“Neither do I.”

“So let us hug a bit longer, shall we?”

“It looks like I have no choices but to comply.”

For a moment, they banish their distrusts about each other, breaking the adamant barrier and wishing the time to stop ticking.

---

Yesterday, Lyra dreamt of a boy who wanders around a big house.

She thought it was just a meaningless dream, at least until she realized that she was the boy himself. She looked at her— his — reflection in the mirror; the little boy was handsome with swept back silver hair and a black pajama. His serious and grumpy expression reminded of someone she couldn’t remember yet. She— the boy —wandered off around a big and dark house. It wasn’t her own intention; like her movement was controlled by someone else. She opened a chamber and let herself in. There was a woman who lay unconscious on the bed. Lyra could see traces of tears on the woman’s sullen face. Her body forced her to lift the quilt to cover the woman’s body and tip-toed herself out from the room.

When she was about to go back to her room, she heard a wheezing cry and followed the voice to the main hall. It didn’t take her too long to find out the source of the voice as her hand reached to open a white drawer, where another little boy with the same silver hair cried inside it.

“Vergil…” that little boy stared at her with a turbulent sob coming out from his mouth. “Father… you… you d-d-don’t believe that he died… r-right?”

I am…Vergil?

Does that mean that this crying boy… Dante?

The next thing Lyra remembered was she woke up with tears stream down her face like a waterfall, soaking her pillow. She was sure the sadness she felt in the entire dream wasn’t hers, but Vergil and Dante’s. She was going to tell Vergil about her strange dream when she saw the exact same white drawer in her dream at Sparda Manor, but she thought she was biased. Vergil had told her about how devastated his family was when they heard that Sparda was deceased, and her dream must be just her brain playing a trick to her.

But then she thought, Vergil never told me that he found Dante hiding and crying in that draw…

Tonight, Lyra falls into another strange dream. Even weirder and scarier. A titanic, god-like demon tortured her in the most unimaginably painful way. Her entire body was chained and spiked. The demon was merciless. His face was full of disgust and hatred as he spat her insults and penetrated her head with dreadful illusions she couldn’t even envision. He kept calling her “disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda”. It was only then she realized that she wasn’t herself, but Vergil.

Lyra fights herself to wake up, and is barely successful. The dream is too visceral that she almost still can feel the pain all over the body as she opens her eyes. Her back is wet from her own sweat.

Why do I keep dreaming of him? Moreover, I never experienced this kind of pain…

Does it have something to do with our accidental mind link on that day? Strange things have happened since then...

Her wave of thoughts are interrupted by the sudden thirst in her throat. She snaps her fingers and the light from the lamp brightens the bedroom. The door cracks slowly to open its way for Lyra. The librarian walks with leaden steps as she rubs her sleepy eyes. She almost stumbled upon a chair when she entered the kitchen.

“A cuppa sounds delightful to cure nightmares,” Lyra mumbles at herself, swinging her hand to summon a cup from the drawer. The cup flies and lands right in front of her, but she makes no further movement but staring blankly at the cup. Her body is still shivering by the imaginary pain from her nightmare.

“From all the people in the world, why does it have to be Vergil? This mind link is vexing me...”

The harsh cry of a raven causes Lyra to glance over the kitchen’s window. She curves a light smile while opening the window and lets a little raven enter her house. The raven lands on her shoulder for a while before flying around the house and lands on the kitchen counter.

“Where have you been, Corvus? Haven’t seen you for days!” Lyra greets the raven.

The little bird tilts its head and squawks. Lyra giggles as she pats the raven’s head. “Hey look. My friend gave his poem book to me and one of the titles is The Raven. I like it, by the way. And I’ve been thinking about him lately, even dreaming about him. To be honest, it’s disturbing. Do you think I should invite him here and tell him the truth?”

The raven gives her a nod.

“You are right. A cuppa is best served with a friend, don’t you think?”

Corvus flaps its wings eagerly. The black bird flies around Lyra’s head before making its way outside the house.

“Leaving already? You haven’t eaten yet!” Lyra shouts at the raven. “Alright then, send my regard to your girlfriend!”

Corvus squawks something like a curse, causing Lyra to barks in laughter. She heads back to the counter as she turns on the radio to entertain her confusing state of mind, picking the channel telepathically until she finds her favourite channel. She listens to the song while summoning her phone from the bedroom, tapping the screen until Vergil’s contact name pops on the screen.

Down in the willow garden

Where me and my love did meet

As we sat a-courtin'

My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine

My love, she did not know

So I poisoned that dear little girl

On the banks below

I drew a saber through her

It was a bloody knife

I threw her in the river

Which was a dreadful sign

“By Jove, that song is sinister,” Lyra chuckles darkly. Her solemn face is turning pale. “As for the poisoned little girl… well…”

She clicks Vergil’s name, waiting for the devil to answer with fingers tangled between the black pendant on her neck, hoping half-heartedly that he wouldn’t pick her call.

~~~

A/N : the song mentioned at the end of the chapter is “Down In The Willow Garden” by The Everly Brothers.

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @shiranyaaww @andieperrie18 @rubixa-seraph @blooddrop-palace (I honestly forgot who to tag, so if you want to be tagged just send you reply or DM me! XD)

Masterlist | AO3

#devil may cry fanfiction #vergil x reader #vergil x oc #vergil x lyra #vergil #dante #nero #lyra #vergil x original character #original character #developing relationship #mystery #tales of apotelesma #spark of stardust #night writes

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winchestress · 3 years

Text

luca marinelli characters ranked by how attractive I find them

Lasciati Andare (Ettore)

My attraction to Luca was really threatened here. This is what I see every day when I go outside in my small Russian city and I did NOT need a reminder. That knockoff adidas and that hairstyle that’s mostly fringe than anything else. Ugh.

La Solitudine Dei Numeri Primi (Mattia)

Two very different looks that aren’t half bad, really, but his overall vibe in this movie is the opposite of what can cause any type of attraction, so I just can’t separate it from his look.

La Grande Bellezza (Andrea)

Longer hair is a Go. Longer beard is a No. Also, the reasoning applied to Mattia works here.

Non Essere Cattivo (Cesare)

90s cocaine chic is definitely a Look but imma pass.

Lo Chiamavano Jeeg Robot (Zingaro)

Luca here hot, in a trashy kind of way. There’s a reason this look is so often brought up in joenicky fics as Joe’s sex fantasy. That karaoke scene is 11/10. If he washed his hair in the rest of the movie this look would rank higher.

Die Pfeiler Der Macht (Mickey)

The only time he has a small amount of curl in his hair and it works. Also victorian period clothes just look so flattering I can’t help but simp a little.

Fabrizio de André - Principe Libero

I am Weak for people with guitars singing sensual songs smoking cigarettes moodily, so I gobbled this movie UP. His hair reminded me a bit too much of my emo phase, so that was the only letdown.

Il Padre d’Italia (Paolo)

Sof unassuming Boyfriend look. I would pass him by on the street if I ever saw him looking like that, but it’s nice.

The Old Guard (Nicky)

Visually looks kind of similar to Paolo in its absolute everyday-ness but the biggest difference is that Nicky is badass/intense and it shows.

Trust (Primo)

Don’t judge. I also thought this wouldn’t work. But then I watched episode 3 “La Dolce Vita” dir. Danny Boyle and I was like... oh no.

Una Questione Privata (Milton)

A good preppy look can go a long way.

Slam (Valerio)

This bitch is annoying but gorgeous. Also, earrings.

Il mondo fino in fondo (Loris)

His character is a tragically straight himbo who cares about football more than about his pregnant wife, but my god, he looks amazing.

Waves (Gabriele)

Let Luca wear his earrings in movies 2k20. Hot pirate look that rivaled the gorgeous sights of Greek islands.

Ricordi? (Lui)

Everything works here. Everything. ESPECIALLY the Depressed Thot vibe.

Martin Eden

There is a reason every movie critic became a Luca stan after this movie. How was he described? “For 2 hours, he’s the most beautiful man in cinema”? Yeah.

Tutti i Santi Giorni (Guido)

This is Peak Luca, dont @ me. I have a Very specific taste men and this look is everything I would want if I wanted a boyfriend (I rarely do). Scruff, glasses, longer hair? Soft cardigans and oversized jackets?? Adorably awkward??? I am READY to have his babies, and I am childfree.

#luca marinelli #alonakayla #i'm waiting for your list lmao

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spaced0lphin · 3 years

Text

Counting Stars

“Bailie is determined to count Jeff’s freckles.” - @virusq

This takes place post-TBMS, after the events of ME2 and before ME3.

The evening was blue with twilight. Humidity and the whine of cicadas spilled into the kitchen through the open patio door. Shepard was still out there, leaning on her arms and staring into the black pines. The opened letter on the table turned his stomach. An Alliance insignia showed through the envelope. In disgust, he turned it over face down. This was the thanks she got for spearheading the operation to save the known galaxy; a warning. The message was simple: Either show up in court voluntarily in a week, or be dragged there.

Joker's own eyes looked back at him, his image caught in the glass door. It felt weird, but also good to be out of Cerberus fatigues. Sometimes it seemed like his reflection looked a little wrong without them, but he remembered feeling like that after putting away his Alliance blues for the last time, too.

A bizarre, almost musical croaking from outside caught his attention. It wasn't familiar - but Shepard, in all her stormy silence, didn't seem bothered by it. Dusk was settling fast. It was weird, this place. It was some little house on the far outskirts of the city Shepard grew up in. The warm, familiar rumble of the engine was traded in for wind in the trees, birdsong in the day, and whatever spooky noises the damn woods conjured up at night. Joker did not like the woods. Being so close to so many trees, all growing at once in strange, chaotic angles - it was unnatural. It and the nearby ocean smelled nice, though.

His Omnitool glowed, displaying the time. Two hours ago, she'd opened the mail and stormed outside. He picked up the offending letter and slid off the chair, putting the paper out of sight. This whole house in a familiar place thing was meant to be a break, a reminder for Shepard of what she was fighting for. Instead, all she'd found was this insult. He thought about hurling it in the garbage. It just wasn't fair.

The curious sound came again, this time from somewhere a little closer. Shepard hadn't moved an inch, nor noticed his approach. Not even the rap of his knuckle against the glass door, half-open to where she'd flung it a couple hours earlier could steal her focus.

He cleared his throat. "Hey," he said gently. "What was that sound just now?"

At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head as if snapped out of a spell. Her eyes were red and she sniffed. She'd been crying. A pang of guilt shot through his chest. He should have known. All this time he was sat twiddling his thumbs at the table like an idiot waiting for orders, she was out here, crying her eyes out with only the trees and mosquitoes for company. He slid the patio door closed behind him and leaned on the bannister with her.

"Uh, noise?" she asked, her voice thick. "Just now?"

"Yeah. It sounded like… uh." He screwed up his throat. "G-Ghauck," he tried. She recoiled, making such a face at the awful sound coming out of him he couldn't help but laugh. To his relief, she cracked a small smile, too. "No, no, wait, wait, hold on…" He did his best mimicry of the odd call. "Ghaaaawk. Like that."

"That's a raven," she answered, wiping at her eyes. "I think your first try was maybe a raven getting eaten by something."

"Heh. Maybe, I mean I don't know what's out there in… in that," he said, gesturing to the deep blackness in front of them. The little yellow light covered in bouncing moths could only do so much to illuminate even the first layer of branches. "It's so much worse than space," he grumbled. "At least you can see in space. Here there's things. So many things, and they all run and swim and bite, and… fly." He paused. Shepard wasn't looking at him - but up, at the sky. She tapped her Omnitool briefly, then all the lights went out.

They waited for their eyes to adjust. Stars separated out from the blueish darkness above. They looked so different beneath miles of atmosphere. Little swirling black dots blotted a couple of them out in patterns as tons of bugs did their crazy dance high above.

"You've never heard a raven before?" she asked with another sniffle, the sound a little loud in the darkness. He thought about her voice, and all the times he'd heard her be strong. In the course of everything, she’d yelled, commanded, screamed for her life, even laughed in the face of death. But never, never ever once that he knew of, had she actually cried.

"No, I guess not," he said. In the gloom, Shepard's shape started to materialise. She had her face tipped up towards the half moon, eyes closed against its light. He wondered at what she must be thinking. He couldn't imagine why she hadn't ordered a shuttle to Vancouver five minutes ago. How seeing that letter waiting for her hadn't sent her direct to HQ to scream in their faces about their ignorance and injustice. His own rage about it boiled hot in the back of his mind like the surface of a star. It didn't take much to picture himself cracking a rib telling them where to shove their trial. How dare they threaten her after everything? Where were they all this time to demand accountability now? Suddenly, he understood why she had been staring into those dark trees.

As she let out long breath after long breath through her nose, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Shepard wasn't on a shuttle right now doing those things, because Shepard had run out of fight. She had nothing left. She had given them everything already, and still they wanted more. They wanted her freedom. He knew that feeling, and in answer to it his throat grew tight.

"Hey," he said, nudging her arm gently.

She opened her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jeff. You were saying. Did you need something?"

"…C'mere." He pulled her close, tucking her head to his chest. She was silent. Her back shuddered a little, so he enclosed her in his arms as best he could. He kissed and stroked her short clipped hair. She carried the scent of vanilla, the sea breeze and everything good about the galaxy.

Shepard broke like glass. The sound of her wordless sob made his throat knot up so bad it was almost hard to swallow. Everything she went through, he was right there with her. Physically in only a few cases, but always in her helmet. Every hard decision and breath held in hesitation was a memory he shared, too. His way of dealing with it all was not to think about it most of the time. Always, he tried to focus on the next thing, and to give her someplace else to be when she was with him. But as her tears seeped through onto his skin, he knew she didn’t have that luxury anymore. He wanted to tell her it was okay, except it wasn’t okay, not at all. He didn’t dare shush her, the last thing she needed was to be told to shove it all back down inside herself.

After a little while, it felt right to sway, like when he was held once himself, a long time ago. Eventually, her halting breaths steadied, and tears slowly stopped spreading the wet patch on his shirt. He lost track of how long they stayed like that. He would have stayed the whole night like that if he could, but his left thigh trembled. Always the weaker of the two, his left had more extensive work done to the weak bones, and the muscles fatigued quicker. Just balancing on one wasn't an option.

"Mm, yanno, I didn't realise the fact I never heard a raven before would upset you so much," he whispered in her ear as he rubbed at a knot between her shoulders. She shook again, and Joker's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. But a second or so later, her quiet laughter made him sigh with relief. "Yeah… Okay. Hey, I need to get off my feet."

Her fingers curled around his as she followed him back inside. There was some long couch thing in the obscenely picturesque living room, and that would do just fine. He moved several of the fifteen cushions people always fill couches up with onto the floor and eased himself down, gingerly putting pressure on the twitching muscle. She reached over and pressed at it too. He kept waiting for her to speak, to address what just happened somehow, but kneading the muscle in silence was all she would do.

“Been a while since you shaved your head,” he said, running his fingers through the fine growth. “You growing it out?”

She smiled and scratched his chin pleasantly through his beard. “The reason I left flight school used to have a thing for long hair,” she said quietly. “I’ve kept it shaved ever since.”

“Oh. Right.” He took a second to admire the half-inch of rich chestnut brown. “Hey, only grow it out if you want to. Y’know, luscious vid-star locks or not, doesn’t matter to me.”

The weight of her head lay against his shoulder. “I think it’s time.”

“Because that doesn’t sound ominous.”

She smiled softly. Even red eyed, pale-faced, and her face wet with tears, Shepard was always beautiful. Dabbing at her eyes again with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she said, “I shaved it all off the same day I left flight school. It was… kind of a statement, back then.”

“Well. Whatever statement you’re making now, I’m listening,” he said. Her green eyes flicked from point to point, studying him. “Ah heh,” he added with a grin, “That sounded a lot less serious in my head. You know something I’ve always wanted to do, though?”

“What’s that?”

“This,” he said, and traced from her forehead down her cheek, as if tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her arms slid around him. She sniffled, then grinned wide, in that way she always did before saying something stupid. “You say you don’t mind my hairstyle choices, but I’d dump you if you shaved.”

He laughed. “Listen, I’d dump me if I shaved.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I don’t actually have this killer jawline, it’s all just sculpted hair. I look like a yahg under this.”

She kissed his cheek. “You know, I’d never seen you in actual sunlight before today.”

“O-kay…? You say that as if I look different?”

“No, but stark light shows details, and I noticed something I never did before,” she said as she took his arm into her lap. “You’re covered in all these light freckles. The light from the displays washes them out and I’ve only ever seen you in dim light.”

“Uh… huh,” he puzzled. “There was that time your leg was all busted up and I took you to a café.”

“Yeah, but even in the day, the Citadel looks very different from Earth. Anyways. It reminded me of something from when I was very little.” Shepard turned his hand over and began drawing ticklish little circles in his palm. “My grandmother was a pretty interesting woman, from what I remember. She used to tell me that freckles were a kind of map,” she explained, squinting down at his skin in the darkness of the room. “She said they are a star chart, and they show a snapshot of the universe where a person’s soul was born.”

Joker lay his head back. Shepard’s little piecemeal memories of her family were always interesting, but very often bittersweet. If it had been anyone else’s anecdote, he might have made some kind of crack about such a sentimental idea, but as she curled up to his side, he couldn’t bring himself to wreck it for her.

“Well, let’s think,” he said. “I got a billion of these, all over, so clearly I’m from somewhere near Sagittarius. What about you, though?” It was hard to see much, but her skin tone looked smooth as ever. “I don’t think you have very many.”

“No. Just a handful, here and there. I remember wishing for a million of them, just like she had.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna give me a cavity,” he groaned. “Little baby Bailie at like five years old asking her gramma how to grow stars on her or something. It belongs in a cartoon.”

“Hard to tell, but I think you’ve got about sixty-seven right here… I need better light.”

“You’re… counting them?”

“I am,” she said. “It could be fun.”

“You have a weird idea of fun,” he said, shaking his head.

Her lips travelled up his arm, from his wrist to his shoulder. “Do I? I think our sensibilities might be closer than you think…” “Oh?” “I’ve been thinking.” “That usually ends in explosions somehow,” he said. She smiled softly. “I think... I want to spend these next six days finding out where you’re from.”

“How are you gonna do that by just counting ‘em?”

“Oh, Jeff. Don’t bring logic into this. Just go with it.”

“No I mean, wouldn’t you wanna cross-reference them with known star charts? I bet EDI could do that. Maybe she’d burn out a processor… Y’know, you might actually be right, that does sound kinda fun,” he said with a snicker.

“I don’t need to do that. I can use the star charts up here,” she said as she tapped her head. “See this little arrangement? Looks like the Five Sisters in the Aurean Expanse, kind of…”

“Wait, what? Really?” he asked. His forearm looked the same as it always did. Maybe there were five darker spots among them, but it was dubious at best.

“Oh, definitely,” she replied, never breaking his gaze as she kissed the spot.

“Pfft,” he said, before recognising the glint in her eye. “Oh. I mean, uh. Yeah, interesting. Y’know, with this first pass at it, maybe just take a look, and uh… mark anything you recognise? To look at. Again. Later.”

She moved fast when she needed a distraction. Her chilly fingers made him shiver in the best way as she slipped her hands up his shirt. He followed her lead and just lay back. Of all the stars to be counted, he figured he had a few lucky ones, himself.

#shoker #shoker pairing #tbmsfic #bailieshepard #bailie shepard #jeff joker moreau #hurt comfort #fluff #romance #this one was really emotional to write #i really needed this

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greennightspider · 4 years

Text

Hearts Entwined (Dwalin Oneshot)

Author’s Note: First time writing for the LOTR/HOBBIT fandom so be gentle! Just a bit of Dwalin fluff because he’s mah boy.

Summary: Joining a company of Dwarves you thought that your hair would be the least of your worries. But as it turns out, it matters more than you thought.

Dwalin x Reader

The sun had just crawled over the mountains when Thorin decided it was time to make camp. At his words you and some of the other company fell to your knees in exhaustion, you rolling on your back as you steadied your breathing.

“I feel like my legs are gonna fall off.” Ori whined, as he lay collapsed on the ground beside you, to which you chuckled.

“Don’t you live in mountains?” You turned your head.

“Emphasis on the ‘in’. Its not like we climb up and down these every day.” Bofur groaned.

You could tell who the more battle hardy members were, as more of the older men of the troop stood unfazed. One dwarf in particular looking like he had just gone for a morning jog.

“Aw come on you whippersnappers, you’re fifty years too old to let a leisurely walk like this defeat ya.” Dwalin grinned, poking at your leg with his boot.

“Lesiurely??!” Ori panted.

“Walk??!” You cried.

Your dramatics caused many in the troupe to laugh heartily, which was a much needed mood-lifter after such a long day. Even Thorin the Serious smiled as he passed you by.

“Come on, we’ll make for camp.”

You lay on the ground for a moment more, letting your eyes cover your gaze as you enjoyed the view of a certain dwarf, sweat glistening his muscles and brow in the waning sunlight.

Perhaps climbing mountains did have their perks.

Even though it had only been two weeks, it felt as though you had been a part of this rag-tag troupe for years. You were an unexpected surprise, not unlike Bilbo, however your meeting was far from peaceful. They had found you tied up as a troll trio’s appetizer, and after they had rescued you, Gandalf offered that you travel with them.

At first there were objections to having a stranger join, but with you promising to prove your worth to Thorin they obliged. In all honesty you had no idea what to expect in a quest of Blue Mountain dwarves. But you had felt the times changing, work as a bounty hunter becoming more dangerous for a lone wolf. So, it made sense to travel with a group of warriors, peculiar though their quest may be.

Over time you had become accustomed to the Dwarven band, and they you. You liked sparring with Dwalin, listening to Bilbo’s packing tips, and even getting into trouble with Fili and Kili, but unconsciously you found yourself always looking out for Ori.

He reminded you of your younger siblings, and so you tried to make sure he was never left behind. Dori had also noticed your kindness, and had taken it upon himself to be your guide if ever you had questions about the trip, dwarves, and anything in between.

Sure Fili and Kili were friendly enough, but you could never be sure if their answers were serious or offered as a wick to a flame. Which wouldn’t help your case if they knew of your more romantic curiosities about a certain rugged dwarf.

As soon as camp was set up you dug into your bowl almost as heftily as Bombur did, your mighty excursions leaving your body depleted. Sighing as you patted your full belly, you enjoyed the warmth of the fire while propped up against a hefty log, one that Dwalin happened to be sitting on.

“Good to see you’ve revived lass.”

You tried not to let the blush creep into your cheeks as he spoke your nickname with such a warmth that pulled at your heart strings. “Good to see you’re still kicking too.” You shot back, Dwalin smirking at your response.

You remembered the first time you saw him burst out of the trees with a mighty roar. Even hanging upside down, you saw the sheer strength and courage he launched himself at a foe five times his size. Yet his gentleness surprised you as he cut you down and carried you in his arms like you weighed nothing.

I mean, how could you not fall for him?

As everyone cleared off their bowls for the night you tried to stretch your muscles as best you could. The strain on your shoulders was beginning to ache, however it was a familiar pain now, and one that you would try your best not to let show.

You rolled your pack out close to the face of the mountain, since once before Dwalin had to drag you back from almost toppling over the edge in your sleep.

“No more sleeping near the cliffsides you wriggly worm.” He had growled sternly, to which you could only nod, having woken up to being carried by your saviour once again wondering if it was another dream. You’d had to bury your cheeks under the blanket so he couldn’t see your satisfied smile.

“Glad to see you learned your lesson.” Dwalin teased as he watched you from the fire.

“Well I’m sure if I had gone over the edge you could’ve used your beard as rope.” You teased back.

Dwalin and the others roared around the fire, as he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“You tease this fine work of art missy, but from the looks of it your hair is gonna look worse than mine within a week.”

You brought your hand up to the back of your head and realised that it was, indeed, becoming a matted mess. You kept your thick hair in braids for the practicality, but on this journey you had not found the time to manage the upkeep. Which was important, as your curls answered to no one but a tooth comb and plenty of oil.

You huffed and started to unbind your hair, working your way behind before you felt yourself stuck. Seems one of your more intricate braids had become an intricate knot.

“You might as well just shave it off lassy, we can have matching hairstyles.” Dwalin roared with laughter. You tried your best to give him a grumpy look but you soon found yourself in fits of laughter too.

“You can help me braid my hair then you big ol’ grump.” You grinned, walking purposely around the fire and plonking yourself on the ground between his legs cross legged.

“How about that?” You puffed triumphantly.

But instead of more banter, you instantly you felt those around the fire freeze, Bofur dropping his spoon back into his bowl.

“You didn’t tell her?” Kili hissed at Dori.

“Well its not like I expected it to come up!” Dori argued defensively.

“Am I…. missing something?” You turned your head to look up at Dwalin wondering why he was silent too. However, you didn’t expect to find the most ferocious man you had ever met as red as a beet!

“Um,” Fili chuckled nervously. “Y/N, you-“

“Dwarves have very particular customs when it comes to our hair, or braiding other’s.” Thorin spoke decisively from his place as lookout, arms folded. “Customs that usually amount to offers of courtship.”

Your jaw dropped, realizing that you may or may not have in no small way proposed to Dwalin. “Oh.” You struggled to get words out. “Oh no, I didn’t know, I-I am sorry if I have caused offence!”

“It looks like you’ve caused a heart attack sweetie.” Bofur replied before being elbowed in the ribs by Kili.

You looked at everyone around the fire trying to look for some indication of how to proceed, finding that all of them were looking behind you. “Dwalin?”

“Its okay lass, you didn’t know.” Dwalin replied, the tepidness in his voice almost breaking you.

This really wasn’t how anything was supposed to go! Yes you liked Dwalin, you liked Dwalin a LOT. But you never thought the day would come when you would be ousted by your own foolish actions, and in front of half of your companions too.

“It was an honest mistake.” You heard Dwalin try to joke.

You scrunched the dirt underneath your hands into your fists. You were Y/N. You were bold. You were daring. And while your actions may have been a mistake your feelings certainly weren’t. Could you pretend it all away? Could you live with yourself now if you lied and hid your heart away? No. You had never run away from anything in your life. And you weren’t about to start now.

“If its all the same to you Dwalin, I still would like your help to braid my hair.”

You winced as you heard Ori gasp dramatically. When you peeked up you found Fili and Kili staring at you while simultaneously kicking each other, Bofur almost letting his bowl slip from his hands. Even Thorin raised his eyebrows at your boldness.

You felt the dwarf behind you exhale. “Are you sure lass?”

“Yes.” You tried not to twiddle your fingers, somehow transforming more and more into a shy milkmaid by the second. “Unless you would like me to ask someone else to braid it.” You insinuated daringly, even with fear he would say yes and offer your heart to someone else.

But no sooner were the words out of your mouth then you felt his hands brush against your back, taking the first of your plaits in his hands and unweaving it slowly.

“Well look at that I think its time for bed!” Bofur sprung up and yawned purposefully. At this the remaining troop instantly scattered, leaving you both alone with each other by the fire. Even Thorin had moved so that he was perched around the side of the mountain out of respect for his loyal warrior.

“I’m sorry if my hair is hard to handle.” You offered shyly. “It’s hard to do the plaits on my own.”

“No need for sorrys.” The rugged dwarf answered quietly, cursing his hands for not being nimble, or delicate. His hands were leathery, worn from his early years in the forges. But he had never thought his hands would be weaving in your hair as they did now. “Am I hurting ya?”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed at his concern. “My mother would have me and my siblings crying after a braiding session when we were younger, this is….” You then paused. “This is much better.”

Dwalin’s own heart swelled at your contentment, fit to burst from his chest. Ever since the day he had cut you down and carried you in his arms, he couldn’t deny that you were the most beautiful cocoon he had ever seen.

He thought it was just the normal jitters when one saw a pretty face, but as you travelled as companions and then as friends, he fell in love with your character. The way you laughed, the way you fought, the way you would look out for Ori. You had proven your worth to the company as you had promised, but along the way you had won Dwalin’s heart.

Of course, he never thought in a thousand years though that a strong, strapping youngling would ever fall for him. You were human, and he considered the fact that maybe you wouldn’t feel attachment like dwarves did. He had thought for sure you would have become interested in one of the princes, anyone younger than himself.

Obviously, Dwalin was wrong.

The fierce warrior reluctantly finished the last plait, the process of taming your hair long but pleasant, as both of you swapped small stories of memories and times long past, even content to sit in silence.

You stretched and then turned to sit facing him. “Thank you.” The warmth in your smile more than Dwalin could take.

Before he could even think the dwarf had taken both of your hands in his, letting his thumbs slide gingerly across your small hands.

“Yes Dwalin?” You looked up at him with pools of dark hazel that glinted in the firelight, taking his breath away with the way you looked at him so keenly. He had never seen you like this before. Then again he mused, you had probably never seen him look like such a blushing fool before either.

“I’ll help you with your hair whenever you need Y/N, if that’s okay with you.”

You smiled at took the chance to hold his face in your hands, planting a small kiss on his forehead. “Its more than okay with me.”

Your own Dwarven Hero.

————————————————————————————————–

“Told you she’d be the one to do it.” Fili chuckled, kicking the bundle next to him that was his brother, gaining him a grunt. “You owe me a pint.”

#dwalin fluff #the hobbit fluff #the hobbit fanfiction #dwalin x reader #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #greennightspider #the hobbit fanfic #dwalin #dwalin hobbit #i have no idea what to tag this #dwalin x woc #the hobbit woc fanfiction #dwalin oneshot #the hobbit oneshot #Please let me into this fandom pocket i promise ill be good

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blueishfood · 4 years

Text

The rider (Chapter 8)

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Words: 1,2 K

Warning(s): none

Summary:

““We found you a few hours ago.” She caught Astrid straining to look out the window and added, “He is gone.”

She plopped down on Astrid’s legs, moving a little when Astrid wiggled her toes in protest.

“He just left you there,” -she pointed at her friend with the cheese- “I guess he thought you were dead.”

“Yeah,” Astrid grumbled, “I guess he did.””

A/N: I’m so happy that people actually read these :D (MY AO3 ACCOUNT because reading fanfics on tumblr is exhausting)

Chapter 7

Chapter 1

Astrid woke furious.

She could not for the life of her remember why or whom she was furious at, but the anger inside her bubbled and brewed.

That was the reason a scream came out of her mouth when she was trying to greet Ruffnut. Ruff fell to the floor in surprise, a hand grasping at the cloth over her heart.

“What the hell Astrid?” she slowly got back up, picking up the tray of food she had brought with her. The milk was spilled over the floor and the cheese had fallen over, but she managed to save most of the food.

“Sorry,” Astrid croaked, groaning as she moved her stiff muscles. “I just woke up so angry.” She stretched her arms over her head, not stopping until she felt the strain. Her eyes trailed over the familiar auburn walls of her bedroom.

Ruff raised an eyebrow as she put the tray in Astrid’s lap.

“That’s not surprising. You lost to the Rider, after all.”

“I did?” Astrid asked, forgetting that she was angry while she focused on sounding surprised. “Too bad,” she knocked down the light tone a few notches, and grumbled; “Did I get knocked out?” as she rubbed her forehead.

Ruff nodded, pointing to the axe by her bedside. “We found you a few hours ago.” She caught Astrid straining to look out the window and added, “He is gone.”

She plopped down on Astrid’s legs, moving a little when Astrid wiggled her toes in protest.

“He just left you there,” -she pointed at her friend with the cheese- “I guess he thought you were dead.”

“Yeah,” Astrid grumbled, “I guess he did.”

Ruffnut handed her a piece of bread which she waved off. Ruff stuffed it into her mouth either way.

“Fwuck ovv,” Astrid groaned while chewing her bread. She poked Ruffnut’s side a few times, until she relented, and let Astrid stand up.

“Hey,” Ruff swallowed the cheese she had stolen, “Should you not be more careful, considering the-“ she gestured to Astrid’s head. Astrid shrugged in response, tugging her bindings a bit snugger. Ruff threw her the leggings while she put up the last of her hair. Her friend didn’t comment, even though she knew that particular hairstyle was reserved for war.

“I can’t stay still now,” Astrid put a hand on Ruff’s shoulder and grinned despite herself, “There’s a battle to be fought.”

Ruff answered with a toothy grin. Astrid let go of her to fasten her buckle.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Astrid rolled her eyes and bumped Ruff’s shoulder with hers on the way out.

Biting her cheek, Astrid reminded herself why she couldn’t tell the truth to her best friend. The battle Astrid spoke of was not the same as the one in Ruff’s mind.

Astrid had denied it when she first landed on Berk. She would stay true to her people. Then Astrid had looked into Stormflys eyes and abandoned the idea completely. These were innocent creatures. They deserved safety, not to be hunted down. Haddock -Hiccup, she reminded herself- had shown her that.

Berk had once been her home, but as Astrid watched her people, wandering through the village, she had never felt more lost. She had to look away as her uncle and cousins forced a bright red baby nadder into a cage.

“Think they’ll fetch a pretty price for him?”

Astrid almost missed the comment within the trap of her own head. She turned around when she realized Ruff had spoken.

“Who?” she asked, shaking off her previous thoughts. Ruff rolled her eyes and pointed at the nadder.

“Unusual colour, don’t you think?”

Astrid almost flinched when one of the men stomped on its tail to get it moving. Weird how she wouldn’t have batted an eye at the violence a week ago.

“I-uh- yes, yeah, I suppose so.” Ruff raised her eyebrows at the answer, and Astrid cringed. She had to get better at this acting thing. “Sorry,” she said, “I guess he hit me a little too hard.”

Ruff laughed and pushed her further down the cobblestone path. “Yeah I’ll say!” she exclaimed heartily. “Where did the master of guessing prices go?” Astrid chuckled. It sounded forced, but Ruff simply elbowed her side in a friendly manner. Astrid knew it was her way of showing she was concerned, since the elbow didn’t hurt the slightest like it usually did.

“Don’t worry,” -Ruff smiled- “you’ll get back into it quick enough.”

Astrid buried the desperate cry that rose from within her. She didn’t want to.

The great hall was packed when they arrived. Everyone who wasn’t on duty had gathered. Ruff whispered something about wanting to see her, but the discussions had started long before Astrid stepped into the hall.

“All our game, gone! And it’s his fault!” a man shouted from the crowd, and a few voices murmured in agreement.

“How are we supposed to live like this?” asked another.

“Odin’s wrath is upon us!” Astrid sighed at that one, blending in religion would make things worse.

“No this is obviously incompetent leadership.”

“He’s right! Nothing like this ever happened when Stoic was chief!”

Well, that was an interesting take. Stoic had been chief a few restless years, but then again-

“Stoic didn’t have to deal with devil riders!” Astrid nodded along with the crowd.

“That itself is a sign,” a woman grumbled, and Astrid almost agreed. They always chose to deal with things the violent way, perhaps with another leadership, things would have turned out different.

“I agree, the Rider is bad omen!”

Spitlout, who was seated in the middle of the grand table, rubbed the bridge of his nose. His grey beard betrayed the fact that he was, despite of his usually young appearance, becoming an old man. Though, today he looked wearier than Astrid had seen him in a long time.

Spitlout had in recent years given almost all his Chieftain powers to his two possible successors: his son, Snotlout and his apprentice, Night. But, as chief, he still got most of the backlash when the people were unhappy.

Astrid almost retched at the sight of her ex, but decided it was best not to make a scene. She assumed she would get most of the attention sooner or later anyways.

As she tried to shrink back so she could witness the mayhem from a safe distance, Night spotted her.

“Astrid!” he said, surprise clear in his voice, and the people of Berk turned around to look at her. “You’re awake.”

Sooner it was.

Astrid rolled her eyes, but made her way through the now silent hall, to the main table. “Obviously.” She muttered, but not loud enough for him to hear.

The table in front of the great hall was one of power. Its chairs were filled with the most respected citizens and warriors. Which was the reason why Astrid, as leader of the maidens, had her place two seats down from the chief, on Night’s left side. However, tonight, it was not empty.

Sitting in the place of a respected warrior, brought dishonour to not only the occupant, but it was much like spitting in the warrior’s face.

When Astrid reached the table, she could hear every breath in the great hall. She rounded the edge, grabbed her chair, and forcefully dragged it back. Her aunt gave a surprised shriek, as she scrambled to stay seated.

“Get up, Agatha.” Astrid growled, giving her aunt a sharp look. A second rolled by before Agatha stood silently and without protest, probably deciding on keeping her honour for another day.

Astrid sat down, her axe hitting the floor with a loud boom.

The hall was silent.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid au #httyd fandom #httyd fanfiction au #Hiccup Haddock #hiccstrid fanfic #Astrid Hofferson #httyd #httyd fanfiction

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vicunaburger · 4 years

Text

The Origins of Rockulus the Mighty

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical Pairing: Dewey Finn x Violet Willoughby (OC) The Players: Dewey, Violet, The Students Word Count: 1,178 Warnings: None

Notes:

- This takes place during the events of the show/movie - meaning Dewey is still posing as Ned in school - Introducing~ my self-insert/OC~ Prof. Violet Willoughby: local English professor at a nearby college, been on a few dates and sleepovers with Dewey, is totally in on the substitute scheme

OKAY THAT’S IT HERE WE GO.

The map of Horace Green was decidedly unhelpful.

The school was built like a maze of classrooms identical in size, with no real identifying markers save for a number system poorly explained in the bottom corner of the page. Eventually, after stopping several students and faculty along the way for guidance, the visitor finally arrived at the door to Mr. Ned Schneebly’s room.

Well, technically it was Ned’s room, but Ned wasn’t teaching.

Violet adjusted the visitor’s badge that was clipped to the front of her coat, making sure it was in plain sight before she knocked on the door. A few moments went by before the door opened just a little and a female student peeked out from behind the frame. Giving a small wave to the sharply dressed student, she smiled, holding up an insulated lunchbox in her other hand.

“I’m looking for Dew- Do you know if Mr. Schneebly is in?” Violet cleared her throat, feigning a light cough. “He ran out without his lunch this morning.”

The student gave Violet a rather thorough once-over, taking note to read the text printed on her badge, “You’re a professor?”

Violet nodded, “At the college on Main. I would have brought my transcripts, but they are really expensive to have reprinted.”

Before the student could ask anymore questions, Dewey Finn opened the door the rest of the way, giving the girl a less than subtle shove, “Vivi! Come inside, don’t mind the kid. In fact, ignore all of them.”

Flashing his patented goofy smile, Dewey dragged Violet inside, kicking the door closed behind them. The students had their desks all arranged in a circle toward the blackboard, which featured a crudely drawn viking with a guitar. At it looked like a viking, judging by the horns and full beard. They all sat up at attention at the sudden arrival of a classroom visitor, doing their best to all look like model pupils.

“Hey guys, this is my friend Violet. Treat her like you would treat me, but better, you got that?” Dewey led Violet to his chair behind the desk, brushing it off before she sat down.

“Good afternoon, Miss Violet.” The replied in unison.

“Oh god, thank you, but no need for all the formality. I’m just here to drop off lunch,” Violet shook her head, her garnet colored hair swinging in its ponytail. “Really, I don’t want to interrupt a lesson.”

Dewey leaned over the desk, waving his hand at the class dismissively, “Don’t mind them. I can’t believe you brought me lunch; and it’s not even in a takeout box.”

“Mr. Schneebly; according to the Horace Green Rulebook, you’re not supposed to have visitors during school hours unless they are a direct family member or visiting teacher.” One of the students interrupted.

Slowly, Dewey turned to face the classroom as though he were the slasher in a horror film, “Thank you for reminding about rules I could care less about Summer, but it just so happens that Vivi is a professor. Therefore, a visiting teacher.”

“But… she’s not teaching us anything!” Summer insisted.

He looked about ready to leap over and strangle the poor girl, but stopped suddenly and pointed to the blackboard, “It just so happens that she’s going to help tell the story of Rockulus the Mighty. The greatest hero rock’n’roll has ever known.”

Violet nearly choked on her own spit, her face turning a deep shade of fresh tomato. Rockulus was a character Dewey had made up for more… playful intimate times when she would stay over for the night. The fact that he just spoke the name so causally in front of his students made her want to sink into the floor in embarrassment. She knew he would never go into vivid detail about what really happened during the hero’s adventures, but it was still a shock to hear.

“Rockulus is made up,” A student called out from the back of the room.

“He’s not made up, ask the professor.” Dewey hopped off the desk, entering the center of the desk circle; a ringmaster of the circus. “She knows all about myths and legends, don’t you Vivi?”

Clutching the edge of the desk with a white knuckle grip, Violet nodded slowly, “Of course I do. He isn’t as well known as some of the other heroes of the modern age, but he has left quite an impression on those who follow his stories.”

Confused, the students collectively decided that maybe Mr. Schneebly wasn’t pulling a lesson out of his ass like usual. If a college professor agreed with him, maybe this rock hero was something worth hearing about.

“When Rockulus was born, all the monsters in the land descended onto his village, for his coming was foretold in the great Prophecy. He would rise to be a mighty hero, bringing music to the people of the land, fighting for freedom and justice.” Dewey started to act out his fantasies, occasionally slamming his hands down on a desk for emphasis. “One night, he set off on his own to find a way to bring sweet, sweet rock to the masses.”

He glanced at Violet, who was thoroughly enraptured with his tale. She had such a look of pure enjoyment on her face, it caused him to lose his train of thought, and he stuttered as he fumbled for the next line.

“I believe that was when he had a vision in the wilderness of The Man.” Violet gently encouraged him, “His sworn enemy.”

“That’s right!” Dewey raced to the blackboard, sketching a stick-figure with a suit and tie. “The Man is the enemy of all freedom. He feeds off the hopes and dreams of all the people he controls, using their life force to grow more powerful.”

After a beat, he drew a stick figure with a suspiciously familiar hairstyle, exaggerated chest, and skimpy bikini next to the picture of Rockulus. Violet rolled her eyes, but let him continue unimpeded.

“The Man had kidnapped the beautiful goddess Ambrosia~” He began.

“Isn’t ambrosia something they serve at picnics?” Summer made a face, clearly unimpressed at her teacher’s lack of forethought.

“Shut up.” Dewey snapped, “Anyway-”

“It totally is.” Violet interrupted this time, addressing Summer directly. “It’s not great either. Sticky.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with her,” Dewey gave an exaggerated pout.

Violet stood up, walking over and attempting to straighten his tie, “I can when she’s right. Keep going, Mr. Schneebly.”

Distracted, Dewey forgot he was in the middle of his classroom, leaning forward to try and plant a kiss on Violet’s cheek. Dodging his efforts, she went over to sit on his desk, sticking her tongue out at him when her face was out of view of the student body.

“Rockulus set out on a quest to free the foxy goddess from the clutches of The Man, but his powers proved unable to defeat such an enemy.” He continued, “But that is a tale for another time…”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

#writing time #Self Insert #dewey finn x oc #dewey finn x self insert #school of rock musical #school of rock broadway #school of rock fanfiction

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specialagentsnark · 4 years

Text

Marriage of Choice - Chapter 3

Happy Kili Tuesday everyone! I hope you’re all doing well and not going too crazy, whether you are stuck at home, work, or elsewhere. Here is Chapter 3 of Marriage of Choice. I will post it on AO3 on Friday or late Thursday night. Please leave comments either here on AO3 if you have a moment. They sustain my fragile writer’s ego.

Happy reading!

Chapter Summary: Nori’s dangerous. Tauriel just wants to relax. Kili’s grateful.

Chapter 3

Tauriel ran her finger along the rotation list, searching for her name. Every other name was listed in cirth, as were the times they were assigned watch and their location. When she found her name written in Westron, she wondered briefly why she even bothered to check any more. It was always the same. Second night watch outside the storage rooms where the mountain’s food was being kept and down by the currently little-used smithies. Just like every other night they bothered to add her to the list. Still, it was better than no work at all. She turned and went to get her breakfast before going in search of something else to work on for the day. Perhaps Bofur would have some use for her, or maybe Bombur. The two were some of the most welcoming dwarrow in the mountain and even they weren’t the most friendly people she’d ever met.

“Where are you off too?”

Tauriel looked to the side. It took her a moment, but she finally found the dwarf that had spoken. Nori stood in an alcove, leaning against the wall and fiddling with one of his knives.

“To find someone that will allow me to help,” she said honestly. After all, lying wasn’t going to get her any work.

Nori straightened and slipped the knife… somewhere. Very skilled, she decided, to be able to keep her from seeing exactly where he hid it.

“Funny you should say you’re looking for work,” he said.

Alarm horns started sounding in the back of Tauriel’s mind at the mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. She’d only seen that look once before, back when a delegation from Rivendell had come to Greenwood some hundred years prior. She’d just been a lowly soldier in Thranduil’s guard. Two of the elves that had been part of it, twins, had sported such a look before they’d created absolute havoc within the noble court. “And why would that be?” she asked and wondered if he would notice if she reached for her knives.

He tipped his head to the side, just slightly as he looked her over. “Face it lass,” he said, “there aren’t many that will live in this mountain that like you, Prince Kili not included. Me, I’m not sure if I like you either, but that doesn’t necessarily matter. I need helpers, ones that I can trust not to doublecross the royal family.”

Tauriel’s eyes narrowed. She had a feeling where this was going. “What are you asking me to do?” she asked.

He brought his hands together, palms flat and let his index fingers rest against his lower lip, the smirk curling into a grin. “Cautious. I like that,” he said and his hands dropped to his sides again. Another knife appeared in his fingers. She kept its motions in her periphery but focused the rest of her attention on his face. “Someone’s out to kill the consort. I need someone that can help me keep that from happening. I know your kind are light on their feet. Think you can sneak around a hobbit?”

Tauriel shifted her weight onto one leg and propped her fist on her hip, her fingers close to the hilt of one of her knives. “Now why do you think I’d be a good choice to follow the consort around?” she asked. “You don’t trust me.”

He snorted. “I don’t trust anyone but my One and even that can be a stretch on some days,” he told her. “You can’t be too trusting in my line of work. Well, either of the ones I’ve ever had. But that’s not the point. What is, is that I’m pretty sure you won’t do anything to break Kili’s heart. You’re his One, after all.”

One. Kili had tried to explain it, the dwarfish belief that their Maker often split their souls in their forging and that when a dwarf found their other half, they became One. She still didn’t quite understand it, but she did understand herself and the way she felt.

She could never intentionally hurt Kili.

“And if you hurt the consort, or allow him to be hurt, Kili will never forgive himself or anyone else that was in a position to help.”

Tauriel huffed a small laugh. “You’re good at manipulation,” she remarked. “What would you have me do?”

“Dwarrow don’t like you, not because of who you are, but because of what you are. They ignore you, pretend you’re not there. I’ve watched and I’ve listened.”

Had he? She didn’t remember that distinctive hairstyle anywhere near her until now.

“They say things around you they won’t say around me. They say things they think you’re too far away to hear, but I see the expression on your face when they say something disparaging about Kili. You hear them just fine. Start paying more attention. Help me find who’s behind the attempts on the consort’s life. Help me stop any attacks that may be coming.”

“You need a spy,” she said bluntly, her eyebrows lifting minutely.

He grinned at her. “You’ll be the first of many,” he promised. “No one will suspect the court’s spymaster’s top agent to be the resident banished elf.”

The reminder of her status in Thranduil’s court left a bitter taste in her mouth. But he had a point. Who would willingly trust an elf near the royal family of what was once the greatest kingdom in all Arda and had the potential to be the greatest kingdom once again? “You’re insane,” she told him, even as a small smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “I’ll listen. How should I report to you?”

“Currently, I can usually be found lurking near the royal family. If I see you there without being on Kili’s arm, I’ll know to come talk to you. I’ll also check in with you on your nightly watches outside the store rooms.”

She opened her mouth to say something and then paused. “You had a hand in that, didn’t you?”

He flashed a smile at her. “Now what makes you think I would have any influence with the Captain?” he asked and secreted his knife away before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Good luck with finding other work,” he said and walked away, the picture of nonchalance and ease. The way he walked, the way he moved. Nori was dangerous. She was sure of it. How had they ever captured him in Mirkwood?

~*~*~

Only dwarrow were allowed in the throne room for the coronation. Knowing how much dwarrow liked their secrets, it didn’t really bother Tauriel, except for one thing. She’d done as Nori asked and listened. She needed to get to the throne room as quickly as possible and warn him of what she’d heard. The only problem was-

“Where do you think you’re going, Tree-shagger?”

Every single dwarf in the mountain wanted to waylay her.

She dodged the latest dwarf to grab at her. She needed to find Nori immediately.

“Here lass. What’s the rush?”

Tauriel paused in her near dash toward the throne room. She knew that voice. Glancing to the side, she saw a familiar hat topping an equally familiar dwarf beneath it.

“Master Bofur,” she said and relief pushed the breath she’d been preparing to use to shout at someone out in a sigh. “Do you happen to know where Master Nori is?”

“Nori?” Bofur asked, tipping his head to the side. “Last I saw of him, he was-”

“Did I just hear someone taking my name in vain?”

“Lurking right behind me.” Bofur turned. “Nori! Tauriel’s been looking for you.”

Nori’s eyebrows rose a bit. “So I hear,” he said, his smirk making his beard twitch a bit. “Thanks Bofur.”

Bofur glanced between Nori and Tauriel, shrugged, and went on his way. The moment he was out of sight, Tauriel caught Nori’s sleeve and pulled him to the side.

“What do you have for me?” Nori asked.

“Bilbo’s crown is a fake. Gilded with gold leaf. Iron beneath. You’ll have a hard time telling the difference.”

Nori’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at the ceiling. His knife reappeared and he flipped it across his knuckles absently. “Treason, huh? I’d heard whispers. Just didn’t think anyone was fool enough to actually do it. Have any names?”

Tauriel shook her head. “No, but the dwarf you’re looking for has red hair, part of his left ear missing at the top, and speaks like a noble.”

“That narrows it down a bit. Got anything else?”

Tauriel thought back to the dwarf she’d stumbled on while patrolling the halls around the little-used private smithies. He’d had his back to her while he covered the false crown in gold leaf. She didn’t want to alert him to her presence after all but he had turned toward the doorway just as she prepared to leave. “Brown eyes,” she said. “Heavy brows. Looked like his beard might have been cut a bit during the battle. The right side seemed a bit shorter than the left.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Nori asked. “Well done. Keep your ears open for more little tidbits.” With that, he turned and…

Disappeared. Confused, Tauriel went over to where she’d last been able to see Nori. Her hands met solid wall without any imperfections that she could see. Did dwarrow know magic?

With nothing more to do, Tauriel headed back towards the royal wing. She was still trying to decide if Thorin had gifted her rooms there out of gratitude for the healing she’d done for him and his nephews, because Kili had asked him to (she’d never asked Kili if he’d gone to his uncle or not), or because Thorin wanted her in his sight as often as possible.

Whatever the reason, she couldn’t help but feel grateful. Enough dwarrow glared balefully at her on a regular basis. She didn’t want that when she first stepped out of her apartment. Home? Did she consider those rooms within Erebor her home now? She thought of the rooms she had in the barracks back in Mirkwood. Her belongings would still be in there, possibly. Or maybe someone had destroyed them after news of her banishment had gotten out. She’d have to ask next time someone from Mirkwood came to the mountain. Perhaps Legolas-

If she hadn’t been musing on what had happened to her few personal belongings, she would have had a lot more warning than she did. She almost ran straight into the dwarf trying to pick the lock on the currently unoccupied king’s rooms.

He hadn’t heard her though. Sloppy and unobservant.

Bemoaning her new lack of free time, Tauriel stepped up behind the dwarf, drew one of her knives and settled the tip of it against the dwarf’s back. No armor. No lookout. So very sloppy.

Who trained these dwarrow anyway?

It didn’t matter. Only made her life easier.

“What business have you in the king’s quarters?” she asked. No reason to announce that Thorin hadn’t moved into them with Bilbo.

The dwarf snarled something in khuzdul.

“I was under the impression that you weren’t supposed to use the dwarfen language in the presence of outsiders,” she remarked idly and applied a little more pressure with her knife.

“Go shag a tree,” the dwarf snapped.

“You’ll need new material if you think insults are going to make me leave you be,” Tauriel told him.

The dwarf lunged forward, trying to get out of her reach. She stepped with him, grabbed a fistful of his doublet, and slammed him into the door he’d just been trying to unlock. With him pinned, she started going through his pockets. She found a small assortment of weapons.

“You should take lessons from the crown prince,” she told him. “He’s far more adept at hiding blades on his person.” She continued searching and found other sharp, pointy objects as well as a garot. “Going by your assassin’s toolkit, I’ll just assume you’re here to kill the king or his consort.”

The dwarf growled something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Tauriel asked. “I couldn’t understand you with your face smashed against the woodwork.” She hauled him away from the door and started frogmarching him toward the guardhouse.

“You’re robbing me of my free time,” she told the dwarf. “I’d planned to relax during the coronation but you’ve just ruined that.”

The dwarf shouted wordlessly and twisted in her grip. She let him go. If he was going to take away her time to have a long, proper soak in the lovely heated bath in her rooms (Eru bless dwarrow engineering), he might as well provide her with the entertainment of a good fight.

He charged her, the slim, short blade she’d purposely let him keep held in a reverse grip. He slashed at her and she stepped back, out of his reach. With the same motion, she swung and hit him on the side of the head with an open palm. More a challenge than an attack really. Pent up energy not released in the training grounds roiled beneath her skin almost constantly and she finally, finally, had a chance to do something with it.

He cursed at her in khuzdul.

Tauriel tsked at him. “Keep that up and I’ll have to report you to the king.”

“The king will thank me for gutting you like the bi-”

She lunged and jabbed her fist into his stomach, just below his ribcage. He wheezed and coughed, the wind knocked clean from his lungs. He bent double but tried to keep his head up and his knife out to warn her away from him.

She kicked at his hand and the blade spun across the marble floor.

Unarmed, the dwarf panicked. He lunged into her, trying to take her down by hitting her low. She sidestepped at the last second and brought her knee up into his midsection again. Bones cracked against her leg. She swung both fists down, hitting him between his shoulder blades even as he fell to the floor. He didn’t get back up again.

She bent and checked him over. He breathed and his heart still beat, but she had a feeling she’d hit him too hard. His pulse raced harder than the fight called for it too, short as it had been, and he breathed too hard as well.

She cursed under her breath. After tying his hands together behind his back, she hoisted him over her shoulder and left for the guardhouse.

Nori beat her there, dragging in the dwarf she’d seen creating the false crown. She waited for Nori to settle his captive before drawing attention to herself and her burden.

Nori shut the door that separated the guardhouse from the cells. “What do we have here?” he asked and pulled on her captive’s hair until he could see his face. “Oh good. You found him. Where?”

“Trying to enter King Thror’s old rooms,” she said. “I found these on him.” She pulled the weapons she’d confiscated off the dwarf out of her belt and dumped them on a table.

Picking through the pile, Nori nodded. “I knew he wasn’t the soldier he claimed to be,” he said. “Couldn’t decide if he was a common thief or something more though. Good work. Leave him with me. I’ll make sure the right people know he’s here.”

Relief coursed through her. “Thank you,” she said. “I’d really rather not draw attention to myself.”

He smirked at her. “No worries on that one lass. Everyone wants you to not be here so you’ll have the freedom to move. I’ll not be jeopardizing that any time soon. You’ll be useful until you marry your prince.” He reached up to take her burden from her. “Off you go now. Enjoy some free time assuming you don’t find any more would-be assassins lurking somewhere in the royal wing.”

Tauriel inclined her head in acknowledgement of his unspoken request before doing as he said. Perhaps she’d still have time for her bath after all.

~*~*~

Kili greeted Tauriel with a short kiss a few weeks later.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as he took her hand and they started walking toward the training grounds.

“Why would anything be wrong, Amrâlimê?”

Tauriel stopped and waited for him to look at her. When he did, she just raised an eyebrow at him. His shoulders slumped.

“It’s nothing,” he said even as he looked down and to the side. “I just feel like Fili’s avoiding me is all. He’s been busy lately with his new duties now that being crown prince actually matters.”

Tauriel touched Kili’s shoulder gently and he looked up at her eyes again. “I do not have any family,” she said. “I don’t understand your pain or frustration in this. Can I help in any way?”

Kili relaxed a little under her touch. He looked up at her with a small, sweet smile and with his eyebrows drawn together and lifted slightly. His expression coupled with his perpetually disheveled hair lent him the air of a puppy and a feeling of ease settled into Tauriel.

“I thank Mahal every day at least once for bringing you to me,” Kili told her and took her hands. “Having you with me is all I could ever ask or I would be too greedy.”

Tauriel huffed a laugh. “You silly dwarf,” she said and bent to tap her forehead to his. She still didn’t quite understand why the gesture meant something to dwarrow, but it made Kili happy, so she did it.

“Amrâlimê,” he murmured and smiled that sweet, puppy grin again. Together, they went to breakfast and ate with those members of the Company that weren’t already up and about their own duties that day. Fili came in late, sat at the far end of the table, wolfed down a small breakfast while going over some document or other, and then limped his way out of the hall as fast as his crutches could carry him.

Tauriel wouldn’t have even noted him if Kili hadn’t mentioned something already. As it was, she was fairly certain she was the only one that noted the golden prince’s pained glance he directed at Kili.

If asking for help with his brother made Kili feel too greedy in the eyes of his Maker, then she would just take matters into her own hands.

First, though, she had guard duty. Down by the little used public workshops and storerooms. Again.

When she finally resurfaced from her duties hours later (not a soul in sight the entire time), she managed to track Fili down in the newly cleaned and repaired kitchens. He sat at a small table set to the side with a small plate in front of him, nothing but pastry crumbs left on it. She sat across from him without preamble.

“Captain Tauriel,” Fili said, startling slightly when she first entered his line of vision. He glanced around. “Is, ah, Kili with you?”

“As long as I am banished from the Greenwood, I cannot be a captain of their guard.” She settled her hands on the table, clasping them together as she leveled Fili with the most level look she could muster. “Would it be a problem if he were with me?” she asked mildly.

She must not have kept her tone even enough. Fili’s eyes widened a little and one of his hands shifted, his fingers touching the cuff of his coat, reaching for a hidden knife. She resisted the urge to frown. She’d thought she could trust Fili. Maybe she’d been a bit misguided in that. She kept his hands in her periphery, just in case she needed to avoid a thrown dagger at any moment.

“No,” Fili hedged. “Why would there be?”

She ignored him. “Then perhaps you’ve truly been too busy to see him and are now trying to find him.”

He visibly flinched, turning his gaze away from her as he ducked his chin guiltily toward his right shoulder. His fingers continued to toy with the cuff of his sleeve. She could see his finger rubbing against the hilt of the knife there. Easily reached, but he still didn’t draw it. A nervous tick perhaps?

She took pity on him when he didn’t look up after a few moments. “He misses you.”

Fili’s shoulders rose closer to his ears and his frown deepened.

“Why do you avoid him?” She asked curiously. “He wants nothing more than to help you and be at your side as he always has been.”

“But he wouldn’t be at my side, would he?” Fili asked quietly once one of the few kitchen workers bustled by with a tray of fresh apple turnovers. The smell wafted over them and Fili paled and went a bit green beneath his moustache and beard. He swallowed visibly. “He’d be in front of me. I can’t keep up with him anymore.”

“Your Highness?”

Fili scrubbed at his face and muttered something into his palms she couldn’t understand. When he finally pulled his hands away he looked up at her with eyes so different from Kili’s but with a familiarity to them it almost hurt at the anguish lining them, pulling at the corners of his mouth, drawing his skin tight and leaving him slightly pale. “I’ve always been there. His big brother. Always immovable and invincible. Now look at me.” He tapped the crutches that lay on the table next to him, close to the wall. “I can’t even walk.”

Tauriel took a moment to weigh her words carefully. She knew his recent relapse in his recovery ate at him. It would eat at her too if she’d been in his situation, finally walking with a cane only to aggravate the injury and be put on bed rest for days again. He’d only climbed out of his bed a week before.“I was told what you said when you refused to join your uncle when he first traveled from Esgaroth to the mountain. ‘I belong with my brother.’ Perhaps, just as you stayed by his side when he needed help, he only desires to be beside you in your recovery.”

His hand dropped to his leg and he rubbed at it absently, a grimace pulling the lines around his eyes deeper. Something about his expression nudged at something in the back of her mind. She knew that look, but from where?

“I’ll talk to him,” Fili said and his fingers came away from the hilt of the knife up his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Lady Tauriel. I’m sure he hasn’t been the easiest to deal with the last little bit. I know he can be a bit manic when he’s agitated or upset.”

“Don’t apologize to me, unless it’s for calling me ‘Lady’,” she admonished with a half smile. “I love Kili and enjoy every side of him.”

Fili propped his chin in his hand and smirked. “Is that what it’s like to find your One?” he asked. “To understand every little nuannce and bit of insanity your other half deals out to you?”

Movement behind Fili caught her attention. “You tell me,” Tauriel said with a smile and climbed to her feet. “Kili will be early to the council meeting this afternoon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fili demanded as he reached for his crutches.

“Your Highness?”

Tauriel just smirked when Fili almost fell over when he twisted in surprise. Bard’s eldest daughter stood behind him with one eyebrow raised and an amused smile playing at her lips. Perhaps Kili was right after all. She would need to find Nori and add her own coin to the betting.

~*~*~

Kili found her that evening as she stood on top of the wall and stared at the latest snowfall. He came and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her back. She placed her hand over his and continued to scan for lurking orcs.

“Thank you,” Kili murmured after a time.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re referring to,” she said and leaned back a bit, letting him take some of her weight. He shifted and came to stand beside her, one of his arms still wrapped around her back. He leaned his head on her shoulder and stared out at the snow. She draped her arm across his shoulders and he reached up to lace their fingers together.

“Will you help?” he asked. “I know you’re trying to stay busy when I’m not able to be around. Do you think you could help in the infirmary? Maybe see if Oin has anything you can do to help Fili along with his healing?”

Apprehension flared in her stomach, making it twist a little. “I’m not sure the good healer will allow me to assist in anything within his domain.”

Kili snorted. “After what you did to save me, twice now, I’m pretty sure he’ll listen to just about any suggestions you may have.”

She hummed absently. “I’d like to learn more about dwarfish medicine. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind an exchange of techniques.”

“Playing on his intellectual side. I love it when you’re crafty.”

She shook slightly with suppressed laughter. “I’m hardly crafty. I honestly wish to learn.”

“Of course you do,” Kili said and pulled her hand to his lips.

Chapter 3

“Where are you off too?”

Tauriel looked to the side. It took her a moment, but she finally found the dwarf that had spoken. Nori stood in an alcove, leaning against the wall and fiddling with one of his knives.

“To find someone that will allow me to help,” she said honestly. After all, lying wasn’t going to get her any work.

Nori straightened and slipped the knife… somewhere. Very skilled, she decided, to be able to keep her from seeing exactly where he hid it.

“Funny you should say you’re looking for work,” he said.

Tauriel’s eyes narrowed. She had a feeling where this was going. “What are you asking me to do?” she asked.

She could never intentionally hurt Kili.

“And if you hurt the consort, or allow him to be hurt, Kili will never forgive himself or anyone else that was in a position to help.”

Tauriel huffed a small laugh. “You’re good at manipulation,” she remarked. “What would you have me do?”

“Dwarrow don’t like you, not because of who you are, but because of what you are. They ignore you, pretend you’re not there. I’ve watched and I’ve listened.”

Had he? She didn’t remember that distinctive hairstyle anywhere near her until now.

“You need a spy,” she said bluntly, her eyebrows lifting minutely.

He grinned at her. “You’ll be the first of many,” he promised. “No one will suspect the court’s spymaster’s top agent to be the resident banished elf.”

She opened her mouth to say something and then paused. “You had a hand in that, didn’t you?”

~*~*~

“Where do you think you’re going, Tree-shagger?”

Every single dwarf in the mountain wanted to waylay her.

She dodged the latest dwarf to grab at her. She needed to find Nori immediately.

“Here lass. What’s the rush?”

Tauriel paused in her near dash toward the throne room. She knew that voice. Glancing to the side, she saw a familiar hat topping an equally familiar dwarf beneath it.

“Master Bofur,” she said and relief pushed the breath she’d been preparing to use to shout at someone out in a sigh. “Do you happen to know where Master Nori is?”

“Nori?” Bofur asked, tipping his head to the side. “Last I saw of him, he was-”

“Did I just hear someone taking my name in vain?”

“Lurking right behind me.” Bofur turned. “Nori! Tauriel’s been looking for you.”

Nori’s eyebrows rose a bit. “So I hear,” he said, his smirk making his beard twitch a bit. “Thanks Bofur.”

Bofur glanced between Nori and Tauriel, shrugged, and went on his way. The moment he was out of sight, Tauriel caught Nori’s sleeve and pulled him to the side.

“What do you have for me?” Nori asked.

“Bilbo’s crown is a fake. Gilded with gold leaf. Iron beneath. You’ll have a hard time telling the difference.”

Tauriel shook her head. “No, but the dwarf you’re looking for has red hair, part of his left ear missing at the top, and speaks like a noble.”

“That narrows it down a bit. Got anything else?”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Nori asked. “Well done. Keep your ears open for more little tidbits.” With that, he turned and…

Disappeared. Confused, Tauriel went over to where she’d last been able to see Nori. Her hands met solid wall without any imperfections that she could see. Did dwarrow know magic?

He hadn’t heard her though. Sloppy and unobservant.

Bemoaning her new lack of free time, Tauriel stepped up behind the dwarf, drew one of her knives and settled the tip of it against the dwarf’s back. No armor. No lookout. So very sloppy.

Who trained these dwarrow anyway?

It didn’t matter. Only made her life easier.

“What business have you in the king’s quarters?” she asked. No reason to announce that Thorin hadn’t moved into them with Bilbo.

The dwarf snarled something in khuzdul.

“I was under the impression that you weren’t supposed to use the dwarfen language in the presence of outsiders,” she remarked idly and applied a little more pressure with her knife.

“Go shag a tree,” the dwarf snapped.

“You’ll need new material if you think insults are going to make me leave you be,” Tauriel told him.

The dwarf growled something unintelligible.

“You’re robbing me of my free time,” she told the dwarf. “I’d planned to relax during the coronation but you’ve just ruined that.”

He cursed at her in khuzdul.

Tauriel tsked at him. “Keep that up and I’ll have to report you to the king.”

“The king will thank me for gutting you like the bi-”

She kicked at his hand and the blade spun across the marble floor.

She cursed under her breath. After tying his hands together behind his back, she hoisted him over her shoulder and left for the guardhouse.

Nori beat her there, dragging in the dwarf she’d seen creating the false crown. She waited for Nori to settle his captive before drawing attention to herself and her burden.

“Trying to enter King Thror’s old rooms,” she said. “I found these on him.” She pulled the weapons she’d confiscated off the dwarf out of her belt and dumped them on a table.

Relief coursed through her. “Thank you,” she said. “I’d really rather not draw attention to myself.”

Tauriel inclined her head in acknowledgement of his unspoken request before doing as he said. Perhaps she’d still have time for her bath after all.

~*~*~

Kili greeted Tauriel with a short kiss a few weeks later.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as he took her hand and they started walking toward the training grounds.

“Why would anything be wrong, Amrâlimê?”

Tauriel stopped and waited for him to look at her. When he did, she just raised an eyebrow at him. His shoulders slumped.

“I thank Mahal every day at least once for bringing you to me,” Kili told her and took her hands. “Having you with me is all I could ever ask or I would be too greedy.”

If asking for help with his brother made Kili feel too greedy in the eyes of his Maker, then she would just take matters into her own hands.

First, though, she had guard duty. Down by the little used public workshops and storerooms. Again.

“Captain Tauriel,” Fili said, startling slightly when she first entered his line of vision. He glanced around. “Is, ah, Kili with you?”

“No,” Fili hedged. “Why would there be?”

She ignored him. “Then perhaps you’ve truly been too busy to see him and are now trying to find him.”

She took pity on him when he didn’t look up after a few moments. “He misses you.”

Fili’s shoulders rose closer to his ears and his frown deepened.

“Why do you avoid him?” She asked curiously. “He wants nothing more than to help you and be at your side as he always has been.”

“Your Highness?”

“Don’t apologize to me, unless it’s for calling me ‘Lady’,” she admonished with a half smile. “I love Kili and enjoy every side of him.”

Movement behind Fili caught her attention. “You tell me,” Tauriel said with a smile and climbed to her feet. “Kili will be early to the council meeting this afternoon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fili demanded as he reached for his crutches.

“Your Highness?”

~*~*~

“Thank you,” Kili murmured after a time.

Apprehension flared in her stomach, making it twist a little. “I’m not sure the good healer will allow me to assist in anything within his domain.”

Kili snorted. “After what you did to save me, twice now, I’m pretty sure he’ll listen to just about any suggestions you may have.”

She hummed absently. “I’d like to learn more about dwarfish medicine. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind an exchange of techniques.”

“Playing on his intellectual side. I love it when you’re crafty.”

She shook slightly with suppressed laughter. “I’m hardly crafty. I honestly wish to learn.”

“Of course you do,” Kili said and pulled her hand to his lips.

#my writing #the hobbit #kiliel #Crafty Nori #kili #kili ktuesday #tauriel #also on ao3 #Cross-posted #please leave comments #Nori #Fili #hobbit #happy reading

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furinana · 4 years

Text

Megaten Furbait compilation

A list of myth characters that were depicted as animals or animals with anthropomorphic features in the Megami Tensei series that have some level of appeal to furries.

Birds, reptiles and other species included.

Now let’s start!

Garuda

Kaneko designed very, very few humanoid birds (even less featuring actual beaks) so Garuda is a big win to me. I love his playful pose from the first artwork combined with the big thigh exposition.

Anzu

The curly beard and the shining brown skin really give him an extra attractiveness.

Kabuso

I fell in love with this little fellow at first sight. The way he just looks down and has a “tch!” expression like he’s mocking you.

Anubis

I don’t pay much attention to Anubis since he’s depicted in essentially the same way in a lot of other media. His slender and sophisticated figure is still mesmerizing to stare regardless.

Quetzalcoatl

I tend to prefer his human form but Quetz’s dragon form isn’t half-bad. His pissed face like he’s mad at you for eating the last piece of ham from the fridge.

Baphomet

This goat has his horn on fire and has something sticking out of his crotch! He’s up to no good! Now that I think about it, the sword and the shield must symbolize his hermaphroditism.

Behemoth

He looks at you the same way a pregnant mother would do to her lover.

Gagyson

I’m not fond of demons with a lot of random features all over them. I forgive Gagyson because he’s bird-like and is cackling maniacally.

Neko Shogun

Is he a demon or a toy? SO FRIGGIN’ CUTE! I LOVE YOU, DAMNIT!

Hanuman

A dignified old man doing yoga. Check out the little golden monkey in his armor.

Heqet

This froggie looks so happy to see you! She’s like a character that came straight from Animal Crossing.

Dormath

Not very furry-like but at least she’s worth more than Nekomata. She looks comfy to hug. Be careful or she’ll hit you with a Macca Beam though.

Ose

There it is... the most insane furbait of the list. This fucker tricks you into thinking he’s covering himself but as soon as you look at him from behind you find out he’s been walking around with his ass completely bare. It’s like he’s tainting you to look at it. Don’t even get me started at his Hallel form.

Chironnupu

BABY YOU’RE SO CUTE!!! His tongue imitating perfectly the way a dog pants cheerfully when its owner is close!!!

Hecate

A personal favorite. As soon as you summon her, she gets ready to push you onto the bed and peg your ass.

Shesha

Shesha’s battles aren’t something exciting to remember about but I truly do like his enormous snake body. Too bad you couldn’t summon him in this state.

Fomorian

If you are into hunks, Fomorian is just your dude. Remind him not to skip leg day though.

Amon

This guy definitely fucks. Beware of his ridiculously long arms.

Ganesha

I wanna touch his fat nipples and his bellybutton.

Basilisk

Such a jolly little creature! It’s like a Pokémon!

Jambavan

He seems way less scary once you realize he’s a bear.

Gryphon

I wanna pull his big tail and see him screaming agonishingly. Apparently his meat is quite tasty.

Azumi

Azumi might be JUST YOUR THING if you liked The Shape of Water. I wonder if her mouth is too rough to kiss.

Pazuzu

There’s something that awakens in me when I stare at his happy trail.

Kuda, Inugami and Makami

L O N G

BOIS

Wu Kong

I like his personality in the games a lot. A troublesome kid that speaks brashly.

Girimehkala

I wanna touch his fat nipples and bel-oh wait, I already said this to Ganesha.

Cait Sith

Look at his stupidass huge boots. I love this guy.

Nalagiri

I’m not enthusiastic about elephants in general but Kaneko sure draws them in a way that makes me captivated. I like how this one feels gritty and muscular contrasting the chubby ones.

Suparna

The pre-evolution of Garuda. Very majestic. I love the extension thingies from his crown.

Mushussu

The little snark with his tongue while looking at the viewer. It’s the little details that count.

Mezuki

I hate horses. I truly truly hate horses. I’m fond of this one for some reason however. Maybe it’s the fanged teeth? Or the cute braids?

Tao Tie

You don’t wanna get on this fluffy fella’s bad side.

Kobold

I like how this Kobold has quite some feminine figure. Small hips and big boobs.

Illuyanka

A body of water shaped into a masked dragon. Kaneko really nailed on the execution of this one.

Orias

I truly don’t care about Orias but his old artwork is funny. He’s tied to his horse as if both were a present.

Hachidaiou

A rare one! And it’s a turtle! Does his shell only cover his back?

Seth

Despite his major villain profile in the lore, his personality in the negotiations sums up as “big moe beast that loves lettuce”.

Mithra

"Bro” “What is it, bro” “I tied myself all over you bro” “B-bro...”

Chi You

I know it’s just his spear but the shadow makes it seems he’s wearing high heels.

Tangata Manu

Tangata Manu is so cartoonishly weird to the point it’s adorable. Look how shitty his wings are. Poor guy.

Senri

Furry milfs stretching? Furry milfs stretching, anyone?

Makara

Makara in Dx2 is friggin adorable. I often forget it’s supposed to be from the Dragon race because of its little Bambi head.

Heavenly Generals

Kaneko the absolute madman designed the twelve chinese zodiac animals as boss enemies. THEY ALL HAVE THE SAME HAIRSTYLE.

Kikimora

I love chickens but she doesn’t resemble one enough to be endearing on this aspect to me. I like the ‘creepy creature in domestic clothes’ image though. She even helps you with housework if she feels you’re hard-working enough!

Vasuki

This one knows he’s a bastard and is fully delighted with it.

Hresvelgr

His cute expression sure makes bird lovers like myself fall to our knees.

Cerberus

Everyone’s favorite doggie! Regardless of how generic Cerberus ends up becoming in later games, his role as Nakajima’s loyal partner or our lovely Pascal the dog makes me quite fond of him.

Kamapua’a

A pig with a cape! A PIG WITH A CAPE!

Fafnir

I keep thinking of that mission in Strange Journey where you had to casually ask Fafnir for a piece of his body. Since he’s all made of metal, I guess letting someone else borrow your leg wouldn’t hurt you.

Samael

I never got to properly use one yet in the games but I'm super fond of his design. The color palette is one of my favorites.

Yatagarasu

no talk with me im angy

#kazuma kaneko #masayuki doi #shin megami tensei #megami tensei #atlus

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chisie12 · 5 years

Text

Gency Week Day 1: Snapdragons/Strength

Day 1: You're My Strength To Go On

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071907 I would have married her if not for Jack.

Jack.

John Francis ‘Jack’ Morrison.

Now, I suppose that you want to ask how I found out.

But, I also think… you’d rather ask me why I killed him.

……

…

Six months prior.

"Yes, don't worry, boss. Everything is all settled for tonight... Yes, understood... Don't worry, leave it all to me. I got this!"

The man's voice drifted with the wind. He turned to sweep his gaze around the vast field before him. He stood tall and proud on the erected stage, an arrogant smirk on his thin lips. The crew members around him were busy hustling about as they made the final checks of the equipment.

‘Everything would begin tomorrow night... Yes. All their plans could finally resume after a month of suspension! If not for those pesky –’

In the wake of the sleeping sun, the blond man with the thin tips barked some orders at the crew one more time. "Make sure nothing goes wrong! Has anyone checked the fog machines yet?"

A dashing young man sporting the signs of a new stubble upon his chiselled face quickly went over to report in his southern drawl: "Yes, sir! All the smoke machines have been checked and thoroughly tested. They're in working condition!" He was tanned with quite the muscular body and a charming smile.

The blond man nodded approvingly. "Good! Good! When the festival tonight becomes a hit, I’ll treat everyone to food and drinks after!"

Waves of excitement danced across the stage, from the platform to the back as every crew member cheered.

“Thanks, boss!”

“We’re gonna drink up all your money!”

The boss smirked as he watched their wide grins and cheerful manners.

Yes, after tonight.

‘I'll treat all of you if you're still alive by then,' the man sneered inwardly before walking off stage.

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of dark eyes that exuded such an excited gleam earlier sharpened at the retreating back even for just the briefest moment before humming and resuming work. He scratched at his stubble, thinking how great it would be to finally be able to grow it out again. Soon, so soon. It was only during his break that he finally took out his phone and sent off a quick text before they were hollered at to continue the checks for the final touches.

'Finally, this month-long operation can come to an end.'

...

That night was particularly clear with no clouds, where even the moon and stars were hiding; Perhaps from the knowledge that they knew something terrible was going to happen. Yet, down below, large black masses were congregated before the stages that were specifically raised just for this occasion.

Once the masses had walked through the large doors of the festival grounds, they were greeted by an outer-worldly sight of dreamlike structures. Past the entertainment grounds and side stages of various designs (like rose gardens, giant mushrooms, theatres, and organs), the audience arrived at the main stage – The main highlight of this two-day weekend event. With the year’s theme being all about water, the main stage platform was a width of 120 meters and a height of 28 meters, that was centred by a golden gigantic mermaid which towered over two hundred meters. In the dark, its eyes shone like emerald amongst the lights flickering like fireflies. When the stage lights lit up in colours of white and blue while a euphony of magical hums danced through the quiet anticipation, the scene of ivory coral-like platforms being submerged in water had the audience gasping at the scene of absolute wonder. The mermaid was majestic, with water walls running in water basins as tall as 200 meters sheltering it. The full length of the stage design was easily a few hundred meters long and roughly as tall as the mermaid.

“People of Melodia, embark with me on a journey and be guided into a new adventure on life.” A deep voice resounded loudly in the skies, its effect magnetic and charming, and the excited clamour hushed into silence once more. “Open your eyes and take a closer look at those embraced by the tears of Mother Nature.”

The water walls rippled like glitters as the lights reflected off its surface and everyone waited while buzzing excitedly. When the main platform lit up with the first DJ, screams erupted across the audience and the first introduction track blasted through the massive speakers.

Hidden amongst the screaming audience and the staff members were a few individuals that stared intently at the stage platforms, or more specifically: the fog machines.

As I wade my way through the masses, I glanced at the crowd around me with their bodies dancing and jumping to the beat. It’s been so many years since I’ve had this hairstyle, but it was necessary to blend in. Yet, even with my bright green hair, I wasn't out of place at all; some sported dainty pink hairs that reminded me of the cherry blossoms back home and others rocked theirs in an electric blue hue. I tugged the light scarf higher around my face. Concealer and makeup covered my scars, but it still irked me — that someone could easily distinguish and make out those ugly scars my body carried. Because they were still faintly, just faintly, visible.

The music boomed louder. My body remembered every dance move I rocked many years ago — back when I played around, clubbed and drank with no remorse, but now, my muscles shivered at the live experience of the festival, the pleasant memories fading away. Life's cruel that way and I deserved it. I hate to say it, but my older brother was right: Evil cause, evil effect. I suppose… your Western equivalent was ‘You reap what you sow’.

Beep. "Sparrow, are you in position? Over." A southern drawl sounded loud and clear in the communication earpiece despite the noise.

With a finger pressed onto the device, I flatly replied, "Not yet, McCree. I will be in 10 minutes."

"Alright. If it goes according to schedule, the fog machines will start going off in 30 minutes. When the drugs administered are fully combined with the fog fluid, it loses its potency after 30 minutes and that’s long enough to drug the entire crowd because according to the schedule, the main DJ would play, attracting the biggest crowd ever!"

"We got it. You've drilled it into our heads long enough, son." Another voice cut in.

"But, commander! I've been undercover for so long and it's finally going to end! I want to grow my beard again." Yet, everyone could hear the pride in his voice. Anyone would be in his situation; So close to a successful undercover and infiltration mission! And he was the main intelligence gathering officer!

I, like the rest of the team, ignored McCree's whining towards Commander Jack Morrison and went in favour of getting into position. Slipping through the sweaty crowd, I circled the edge of the secured perimeter while avoiding the gazes of the security team. The team and I had successfully infiltrated the festival grounds when dusk hit, blending in with the partygoers upon the opening of the gates.

Nearly reaching the end of the perimeter, I stopped and observed the guards standing by. I turned back towards the stage and began dancing to the dropped bass. At the peak of everyone’s euphoria, I roughly pushed a man dancing by my side.

"Hey, hey! Watch it, man!"

"Fuck! It was an accident okay! Someone goddamn pushed me!"

As they started arguing and getting rough with each other, I quickly and nimbly slipped to the side as the guards rushed over to end the fight. Undetected, I jumped over the low, metal fence and dashed off into the shadows. Clothed in black, I pulled the hood over my distinctive hair and made my way over to the platform’s backstage. The few years of experience shone through at this point: Only a black silhouette stealthily slipped and ducked through the shadows, past all the personnel directing the concert backstage and the security guards posted outside, effortlessly landing on higher platforms as quiet as a mouse, and arriving by the large fog machines.

“I’m here. And they’re being guarded.” I stealthily relayed to the team.

“I’m in position too. And I see guards,” McCree replied.

A chorus of agreements and similar communications of positions echoed in my ear as I peered at the people below me. I was currently perched atop an oversized seashell, back hunched as I made myself as small as possible. Majority of the fog machines were placed on the lower platforms, near the audience, with only four spread out on the upper platforms roughly fifty meters from the ground.

My task?

Was exactly those four fog machines spread out on the upper platforms.

After all, this was easy for a ninja.

There were still 24 minutes till the fog machines were due to go off, having arrived just slightly under 10 minutes. “Is everyone ready? I’m going to disable the machines in 3.”

“Copy that, Sparrow. I’m all good to go when you are,” Commander Jack replied, promptly followed by Gabriel voicing out his agreement.

With a word of acknowledgment, I quickly scanned the other three fog machines, silently noting down the distance in between them and calculating the quickest and most effective route to take. It was dim backstage with only the occasional light shining over from the stage lights.

“Commander, exterminate or incapicitate?”

“Incapacitate. We need the suspect alive.”

“Understood.”

Taking a deep breath, I felt my nerves calming and my muscles relaxing.

‘It’s time.’

Gripping onto the seashell decoration with a hand and lifting myself up into a crouch, I waited patiently for the opportunity. As the stage lights disappeared into the other direction, I nimbly leapt off the seashell, feeling the power in my calves while pouncing onto a defenceless staff member whose back faced me. With a strike of my hand, my victim began to fall as he was knocked unconscious. Before his knees touched the ground, his coworkers only saw a black blur when they turned around before similarly descending into darkness just as the stage lights swept back. With every known obstacle heaped unconscious on the ground, I hurriedly checked the liquid in the fog machine and frowned. A dark green liquid stared back at me under the light, the sight glaring and mocking. Without enough time to empty the heat exchanger compartment, I decisively flicked my right wrist and slashed apart the connecting cords with the hidden dagger. Retracting the blade back inside, I spared the audience below a single second of a glance before leaping and latching onto another platform. Soundlessly hauling myself up, I made my way over to the next one, repeating the same actions swiftly and effectively with no hiccups, until the very last one.

When I was about to slash at the cords, a cold sensation prickled down my neck and I instinctively pushed off my left foot, barely dodging the throwing knife to my back as I rolled to the side. It clanged when metal hit metal. I threw out my arm upon rolling upright, only to see the attacker parry my shuriken with a second throwing knife. A dangerous glint flashed through my eyes when he threw it at me. With a flick of my wrist, I easily parried it with my hidden dagger and rushed forth with a great leap. The enemy jumped back to increase the distance, his actions calm, as though he’d faced many similar situations before.

‘Want to run? It’s not that easy.’ I sneered and with another flick of my right arm, I felt the hidden dagger detach itself from its compartment. Gripping the removed dagger by its handle, the feeling smooth and cold under calloused skin, I slashed upwards with my blade.

I could hear the man mocking me mentally, but I simply smirked back as I instantly brought my arm back down. In that split second, two large gushes of blood spurted out from the pair of gashes crisscrossed against his body. I flicked my now transformed katana, the droplets of blood splattering across the metal ground and leered at the enemy.

“H-How —” The fear and confusion were clear from his eyes. I scanned him top down, noticing the thin lips that McCree constantly complained about and yeap, blond hair, before taking a step forward and lifted his chin with the tip of my foot.

“Tito the Slick?”

The man’s eyes widened like saucers. “Who —”

I lashed my foot out before Tito could even finish his question, kicking him unconscious. Ignoring him, I walked towards the fog machine and cleanly sliced off the cords.

“Commander, I’ve got Tito.”

“Great work, Sparrow.”

There came a pause when Gabriel continued for Jack, “... Is he still alive?”

A dark chuckle escaped my scarred lips before I caught it. “Yes, sir. Like I always do, to the best of my abilities."

Gabriel Reyes released the earpiece's microphone and coughed nervously, before finally responding, “Good job.” In holding back, was what he didn't say. Having worked with the Shimada back in Blackwatch days told him all he needed to know of the young man's bloodthirsty nature, especially when it involved a certain blonde doctor. Withdrawals, clearly.

I checked the time. 7.22pm. Still 8 more minutes till the fog machines were due, and with the panic of the fog machines not going off, to them finding the reason and then a replacement, there would be enough time for the drug to lose its potency. Shrugging my shoulders, I carefully scooped up some drugged fog liquid into a small test tube, safely put it away and picked up Tito with an arm and began making my way off the mainstage. I circled around the back, still in favour of leaping off the metal platforms and seashells, and ended up at the rendezvous point; a location on the far side of the walls covering the festival's perimeter.

Not long after, familiar silhouettes appeared in my vision from the shadows. I walked out with a still bleeding Tito. From the looks of it, it was a definite success. I suspected that Tracer alone took down half the fog machines with her speed from that grin she carried, ignored McCree's sulking lips, nodded at both Sombra and Symmetra, and gave my curt greetings to Jack and Gabriel. With the whole team assembled, we easily slipped out of the festival grounds undetected — praise Sombra and those skills of hers — and at long last, we could return home.

And home for me? Was where she would be.

On the way back, I came across a florist, the scent of the flowers pervading my senses. I tugged at the scarf higher.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"... What are your best flowers?"

"We have a fresh batch of Snapdragons that just came in. They would look absolutely lovely in a bouquet!"

~*~*~

Muffled bustling of people echoed through her walls. Another busy day, as usual, but for the first time in forever, she had a break; Break from missions, break from healings and a break from people in general. Because of that, she had her nose buried in a medical book on cybernetics in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Stacks of books, files and papers were neatly arranged atop her wooden desk. Her white lab coat hung over the back of her chair as she looked snug in her cream turtleneck sweater and dark framed spectacles, with her blonde hair naturally gathered into a ponytail.

With a sip of her hot coffee, she flipped a page of her book, the sound of rustling paper pleasing to her ears like birdsong.

Knock, knock.

Wrinkling her nose in annoyance, she looked up at the door with a frown. "Come in. Oh, Jack. It's you. Mission accomplished?"

Jack walked in with a smile, one end tilted higher than the other as he strode towards her. "Yeah. We got the suspect for questioning too. It won't be long till we can take the entire group down." He glanced at her closed book before gesturing at it with his chin. "Taking a break?"

She heaved a long sigh and slumped against her chair. "Finally taking a break, you mean. There's been a higher number of casualties since you've been gone on that mission with Gabriel."

"The others couldn't support you?"

"No, it's more like the snakes are finally coming out of their caves. More and more agents are getting hurt from apprehending them and protecting civilians." She eyed him seriously and rested her chin on interlaced fingers. "If this goes on, then the number of casualties will be far greater than what the bureau can handle. Make sure you get intel from your suspect asap. We need to destroy this underground drug ring."

Jack smiled helplessly at her. "Yes, ma'am."

The pair went on to catch up on the events that happened over the past month before Jack left, albeit reluctantly, Angela's office. Angela slumped back onto her chair with yet another sigh the moment the door clicked closed and reached out to pick up her book, when —

Tap, tap.

Who in the hell — !

A surge of furious annoyance burst inside her, rising from the pit of her stomach and up her chest when the words were lodged in her throat at the sudden realisation that…

That sounded like… the window?

Turning on her heels, she spun to look at her window and sure enough, he was perched there like a sparrow. With his cheeky smile that she could just imagine beneath that mask, the tiny wave of his hand and… the bouquet in the other?

"Are you going to let me in?" I chuckled lowly against the glass.

Snapped out of her thoughts, Angela walked over to stand by the window, fingers hovering above the latch. "Oh, you’ve dyed your hair green.”

“Yeah, I did for the mission.”

“It’s been awhile since I saw you like this,” she giggled.

A helpless smile crawled onto my lips and I instinctively tugged at the scarf, suddenly feeling uncomfortable without my suit. Green hair was when she first saw him, lying in a pool of blood, left for dead.

Seeing his unease, Angela frowned and forced a smile. “What are the flowers for?”

Pulled out of his panicking mind, he plastered on his usual charming smile as though there was nothing wrong and leaned in closer, his breath slightly misting the glass.

“Open the window and you’ll find out.”

“Well, I wouldn't have to if you used the door like you usually would."

I burst into laughter at her smirk. "But then I wouldn't be able to surprise our resident angel if I just told you.” Holding the bouquet of pastel coloured snapdragons closer to her, “This is for you."

Angela's smile grew wider and she unlocked the window for the ninja to climb through who sat comfortably on the window sill and passed the large bouquet over. “Permission finally granted,” I laughed.

Grinning, she easily teased back. “Of course. With the right code, permission is always granted for you, Genji.” She breathed in the smell, her muscles relaxing at the fragrance. "Thank you. They're lovely. What's the special occasion?"

I, Genji, or specifically known as Sparrow during missions, shook my head. "No special occasion." I just thought they were fitting. After all, you're the reason for my strength. For me to continue living even though I'm a monster. For me to find what it feels to be a human again.

Angela hummed thoughtlessly while softly caressing a petal. "How was the mission?"

"It was alright. Boring because I couldn't see you," I teased.

With a soft laugh, she leaned against the wall by the windowsill, already used to my teasing. I then proceeded to brief her about the mission specifics and watched her as she listened intently despite having to later read about them in the reports. Since the mission was drug-related, she'd have to perform tests on each member to clear us after.

A gentle breeze wafted through the open window, carrying with it the soft strands of her hair and sweet fragrance of snapdragons. Her soft smile. Clear, vivid blue eyes appreciating the buds. The curve of her long lashes kissing the highs of her cheeks.

I stared dumbfounded at the scene before me. Heat rushed to my cheeks and the machines in me began to whirl in attempt to cool my body down. Did I just feel steam coming out of my body?

"Genji! Are you okay!"

Shaking my head and scooting further away, I reassured her that I was fine, but my heart was in no way fine. I tugged the scarf higher to cover half my face, avoiding her concerned gaze. She can't pull those shots at me after not seeing her for over a month and expect my beating heart to not stay still! Fine, even if I saw her everyday and it'll still be the same, but still!

Angela watched me warily and forcefully turned my head to her. We stared at each other for moments I couldn't track. My eyes bore into hers and I swore, my heart melted at the concern scanning my face, seemingly as deep as the ocean.

Pulling myself together, I leaned forward. Lifting her chin up higher with my fingers, I softly caressed her cheek with my thumb. Confusion aroused in her gaze and I wished to kiss those wrinkles. My lips parted, but they closed after a long while of silence. I cursed inwardly in my heart as my burst of confidence suddenly ran away. For someone with years as a playboy, I can't seem to be able to ask her out.

A doctor that saved your life.

A BEAUTIFUL doctor that saved your life.

Hush, you're ruining the moment.

Your existence ruins everything.

I released my hold on her face and rubbed my temples at the angelic and devilish voices arguing in my head.

"Genji…?"

Angela reached out her hand to me, but I swiftly turned to the side. "I-I'm fine!" With a nervous chuckle, I continued, "Will you be staying late here again?"

She pursed her lips and took a step back, but never questioned it. Turning around, she set the bouquet on the table. "Yeah, I will be. You coming for coffee?"

"Of course. And I'll bring dinner."

"Sounds perfect to me."

There, that smile. So beautiful and charming. Oh, my heart. Shit, I'm overheating again.

"Great, I'll see you at 9."

~*~*~

"The notions of feedback loops and homeostasis are also essential to molecular biology and biomedicine. There are some issues of non-linearity and non-equilibrium that the author poked at is being addressed everywhere. It's a good progress in the industry!"

I smiled and nodded as she spoke. In my hands were a box of bento and a pair of chopsticks. Dinner, as I would call it. A pair of now cold coffee mugs stood to the side.

"I mean like, in the field of prosthesis, people are working to understand, create and improve artificial limbs to main normal body functions even after the loss of limbs. I even saw that a child using her new robotic arm for the first time and it worked perfect! Isn't that amazing? The nerves must have…"

I lost her from then on, but I still listened nonetheless. Gradually, I finished my meal, but my sweet Angela was still going on about her medical stuff. With eyes still trained on her, I gently nudged her hand with the chopsticks to start moving and chuckled softly when she subconsciously moved to pick up a piece of chicken and chew.

"Science and technology have come so far! I'm sure that ordinary people can afford this in the future too!"

"Mmm," I nodded, nudging her hand once more and silence veiled us for the briefest of moments as she ate and swallowed her dinner. I sipped at the coffee, welcoming the burning alcohol sensation mixed with the bitterness of the beans down my throat. This pattern would go on into the late of the night, where the exhaustion of the mission finally made me succumb unwillingly.

"Then, do you know —"

Angela halted mid-sentence as she watched the overworked agent napping. Chin resting on his palm, the arm propped against a knee and a coffee mug dangling dangerously off a relaxed hand. With a smile, she stood up after finishing the last of her dinner and started to clean up the small coffee table.

Click.

With the door locked behind her, she picked up her unfinished book and sat down on the sofa next to the asleep young man. Fair slender fingers gingerly lifted his head as she maneuvered his body so that he could comfortably lie on her thighs. With the spectacles perched on her nose, she began to read once more as her free hand repeatedly combed through his bright green hair, the bouquet of snapdragons standing proudly in a vase on the coffee table. Soft yet prickly to touch, and occasionally, she’d massage his scalp. If he had been awake, just open his eyes at that moment, he'd see the adoration reflected in her eyes. The appreciation, the tenderness. Her fingers traced the scars on his face, just lightly like a feather for fear of jolting him awake, and imagined kissing each one slowly, telling him: 'You're strong. Perfect the way you are. These scars don't define you.' She lifted her fingers to her smile, gentle like the ocean breeze, and pressed the fingertips to her lips. They lingered there for a moment as her gaze upon his face softened. She then dropped her hand, those fingers pressing lightly against his own scarred lips.

'Goodnight, Genji.'

The next month passed by like a routine. Tito confessed and provided intel as persuaded (threatened) by Gabriel Reyes, and so every agent was being posted more often.

Angela was staying late a lot more too, each night later than the one before and I realised she never left her office unless necessary as well.

I rapped at her door twice, thinking nothing of it. For this past month, I've been using the door like any other normal human being. Just the thought made me grin.

A group of doctors passed by Angela's office and with my back to them, I failed to see their bodies stiffening, huddling closer together, and footsteps rushing to leave faster.

"Going on a mission?" Came her gentle voice.

"Mmm, a solo one. It won't take long."

She nodded her head and I left with her well wishes, grinning like a man that won the lottery beneath the mask.

"Hi commander," I greeted Jack as I bumped into him in my way out of her office.

"Good morning. Good luck on your mission."

"Thank you, sir."

I walked away, past the corridor and out the building as Jack walked into Angela's office. "Going home soon?"

…

In the past month that passed, I still saw Angela from time to time, and it was more than before. Occasionally, I'll inform her of my mission status like I just did; a sorry excuse to see her really, but she never pushed me away. And there was still the snacks of Swiss chocolates, and dinner dates, at least I hoped they were, with her coffee.

But to be sure, I still planned to formally ask her out. Looking at myself in the mirror, at all the scars, the disfiguration, the ugliness… — it would be fine. It would definitely be fine. Combing my hair and straightening my back, I put my mask back on, the cool metal washing my nervousness away just by the slightest.

I grabbed the two unconscious snakes of the underground drug ring on my way out the door, my footsteps lighter and quicker than usual. My mission today was complete and it had taken nearly a week. These snakes were so slippery I wished I could just burn them all, but the head hasn't appeared, so that idea was scrapped. For now, time to go home.

And just for the sake of continuing the tradition, I even stopped by the florist and got three stems of a red rose.

~*~*~

The room was dim. Almost like it was… lifeless. I knocked against the window again, but like my attempts before, no one responded.

Did she finally see my ugliness and wanted to stay at?

No way. She's not like that. Did she go home?

She hates you now. You can't give her anything she wants. You were just a medical experiment of hers.

No! She's kind and loving. And she just wanted to save you.

I clutched at the rose, the plastic wrinkling and its stem snapping. A dull throb drummed my head. That's right. I'll try her apartment.

But it was to no luck. There was no one. Not even furniture. Did she move? But where? But why?

Slumping against the wall, I ignored the friction and tried to suppress the ache in my heart as I slid down, inch by inch, until my metal butt touched the floor.

Where did she go? Shrouded by the shadows of the evening sunlight streaming through the window, I hung my head low. The rose falls listlessly.

It hurt. Hurt being left in the dark, hurt just being left. I scratched at the spot above my heart, but I only heard the pained beating in my chest.

No, I refuse to believe in anything bad. Angela will never do this. Something must have happened to her!

She was strong. She always was. And I believe in her.

~*~*~

A week ago.

A deep sigh escaped her lips. Dark bags weighed on her blue eyes as all the fatigue settled into her bones. Her days in the Investigation Bureau hasn't been easy. If she wasn't assigned to missions of saving people, it was examining dead bodies, and if not, it was to survive the politics of the bureau.

Dumping her bag onto the table, hands brushing against the snapdragons she brought home, she walked into the kitchen and pulled open the cabinet door before going to the fridge, her mouth wide open in a yawn.

Angela grabbed and attempted to unscrew the 1-litre juice bottle as she yawned again, tears instantly springing into her eyes. "Ugh, why the hell — so difficult! Just open already! ...aha! Finally!"

Now successful, she turned around.

"Oof!"

A sharp pain assaulted her head as she knocked onto the open cabinet door. The juice bottle she painstakingly opened slipped and fell as her hands automatically flew up to cradle her head.

"Shit!" Angela tried to clear her head as she heard and felt the juice pulp splashing and pooling by her feet and proceeded to bend down when her foot slipped. "Fu - ahhh!"

And then there was a loud crash.

…

"Angela? Angela!" Heavy footsteps cautiously walked into the room after he inputted the passcode into the electronic door lock.

A sweet fruity smell filled his senses, yet he saw no one.

Until he came around into the kitchen.

"Oh my God. Angela!"

#gencyweek gency week #gw5 day 1 #overwatch fanfic #genji shimada #angela ziegler #Police/Intelligence Bureau AU #gency fic

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