#id like to apologize for all the grammatical issues with this. this is just a bulletpoint word vomit to get my thoughts on the page before-

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #i had an idea of something similar for tommy but on outbreak night he uh. abandons you instead of getting separated from you #because. angst :D #people say nice things #this was incredibly generous of you anon thank you so so much! #i may get myself a little starbucks drink this week now because I havent had starbucks since like january 1st lol #joel reeling from taking in all this information and also realizing he suckerpunched HIS OWN KID #id like to apologize for all the grammatical issues with this. this is just a bulletpoint word vomit to get my thoughts on the page before- #-beginning the actual fic. also I have to do a midterm tonight and this is my treat to myself hehe #but yes. joel getting separated from his wife on outbreak night and having to accept that shes probably dead #meanwhile youve lived this entire life without him because you think HES dead ad raising your boys all on your own #which just- further digs into his insecurities about failing in his role as a protector #he couldn't save sarah. he can't save ellie and he couldn't even save you #he thinks about you pregnant and alone. fending for yourself in a world full of infected and raiders and his chest grows tight again #this is all followed by Ellie going >:O 'you KNOW THIS PSYCHO?'and then joel immediately snapping at her to WATCH HER MOUTH #because that kid has no filter and he has to explain that youre his wife #anyways joels wife is a badass mfer who also maybe has a little garden and some chickens that you and your boys take care of <3 yeah . #reunion tag #ill be using that for this specific couple because I dont have a fic title yet but if anybody has suggestions!

[fetish4juggalos]

Gotham villans with their s/o pt.2

Ive decided that since im tryna post more frequently that Id do a part 2 to my 'Gotham villans' post since after alot of procrastination i finally finished the show around 2 months ago

Id also like to apologize for the quality since my last post was on oct 3rd so this is a little rushed

I apologize in advance for both grammatical errors and spelling errors:)

Jervis Tetch

Hes absolutely obsessed with you no doubt about it

Because of the loss of his sister he automatically is gonna have a near ridiculous attachment to you

Constantly keeping tabs on you, KEEPING YOU FAR AWAY FROM JIM GORDON, and following you around from time to time

Constant reassurance is necessary to make sure he knows you love him

Your past relationships are trivial to him because you're his now and there's no changing that but if an ex comes into a picture he's pissed

Goes from rhymes and dilly dallying to an absolute psycho in a matter of seconds

Kissing is something he uses to calm himself or take control of a situation especially when hes overwhelmed. Its also something you can do to him to reassure him and keep him calm

If you're up to the challenge he might even let you cut his hair seeing as his hair and facial hair change lengths throughout the show:)

Gifts from him are always extravagant and meaningful. Things like teaparties, watches, antiques, jewlery, and various items that he's selected just for you

I feel as if he'd be a great cook since he has such well put together teaparties with cakes, sandwiches, sweets, ect.

Has crazy personality switchs. One second he's overly excited the next hes seething and on the break of insanity

I feel like he too just like jerome commits crimes as a declaration of love. Things like making your ex jump off of the clock tower or hurting people to show how far he'll go for you ect.

Edward Nygma

Pre-riddler

Ed would be an absolute sweetheart

A little strange and a bit creepy but with good intentions

He'd be a little overprotective/territorial but that would only be the case if people around the GCPD started making moves on you/flirted with you

He wouldn't have any inherent issues with you dating others previously since you're your own person and he respects your past but if an ex came around we might have another officer dorty situation

Gifts normally consist of wordplay or riddles. Like cards with riddles in them or gifts that go along with a riddle. All the things he gives you always have an Ed touch to them

He also like oswald follows you around but in less of a needy way and more of a wanting to get to know everything about you way. Like learning your interests, telling you riddles, listen to you go on and on about different topics, ect.

Post-riddler

Edward is alot more confident and alot more unhinged than Ed

Very foward and very jealous

Unlike Ed the idea that you've been with others irks him. And as much as you reassure him that your exs are out of sight and out of mind he'll always have this itching feeling that they're still in love with you

His gifts I imagine consist of about the same things. Riddles and wordplay. The only difference is instead of them being more nerdy sweet gifts they're more complex, intricate, possibly stolen gifts (Bigger budget when you're a criminal I guess)

Hes not as clingy as pre-riddler Ed if anything he'd be a bit more reserved, only realizing the true impact that his feeling for you have on him later on

Would he be super affectionate? I cant imagine him being incredibly affectionate but he enjoys it as much as pre-riddler Ed just not as open about it

Jeremiah Valeska

If you want utter honesty I cant image him being very clingy or incredibly lovey-dovey

I just cant imagine him following you around or keeping a incredibly close eye on you

The thing about Jeremiah that makes him so different from Jerome is how cold he is. Very well composed, takes control of any situation, doesn't go with the flow, always has a plan. If he wants to have tabs on you he'll just ask echo to follow you around

That being said it doesn't mean he isnt territorial of you. It doesn't have to be said for everyone to know that you're Jeremiah's

In the case that an ex was to come into the picture they would be dealt with privately and by someone other than Jeremiah but if he sees fit I doubt he'd be opposed to allowing you to watch as your ex is tourtured

Physical affection is something that can also be used to calm him when stressed out about a plan going wrong or just in the case that he feels like showing you off

He doesn't have a very wide range of emotion

He's either cold and composed or pissed and stressed out on the break of a mental breakdown

Gifts from him are almost always luxury items like jewelry, timepieces, clothing, and shoes.

Even though he is very public about his relationship with you he keeps you out of his crimes for the purpose of the bigger picture. Turning you from a possible accomplice to the poor girl who suffered from Stockholm syndrome all comes together in his big plan and also gives you a out of he ever is taken in

I cant imagine the two of you would go on dates very often. He spent most of his life as a recluse in a maze so I doubt he got out much. Most of the time hes hunched over a desk or blackboard planning his next attack on gotham but if you were to ask to go out me may have something private arranged for the two of you

#jervis tetch #jervis tetch x reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #the riddler #gotham

[thenightgazer]

The Finding of Almagest

The elder son of Sparda wants to seek solitude inside a small local library. He finds himself trapped in an insightful conversation with the librarian as they share the stories of the stars.

(A/N) : My first DMC fanfiction! Took me long enough to finally made it. English isn’t my native language, so feel free to send me private message if you find grammatical errors! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the journey of our favourite brooding devil and his friendship with a local librarian! xD

Special tags : @queenmuzz for encouraging me to finish this fic❤ @voldemortimaginarynose96 for her nonstop support 🍫 and @drusoona for bombing me with Vergil screenshots! 💜

You can read this fic on my AO3

 –

“The meeting of two personalties is like the contact of two chemical substances, if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”

-Carl Gustav Jung

For a second in eternity, Vergil could finally rest his head between the familiar smell of stack of old books.

He just finished his latest mission; a pack of Empusas attacked a local church and brutally murdered the reverend and most of the nuns. 

When Dante received the call, he casually laughed and said, ‘That sounds like a wicked slasher horror movie!’. Nonetheless, the owner of Devil May Cry still sent Vergil to do the mundane mission, much to his annoyance. The church paid him and that’s good enough. Vergil never really agreed about demon hunting business since the brothers came back from Underworld, mainly because his brother’s incapability of running the business neatly but that’s the only best thing they could do to make a living— a normal one.

Normal life, huh?

The words already lost its meaning since he was attacked in the graveyard when he was eight years old.

But now he has a second chance— a family to reunite. For that reason, Vergil decided to throw away his pride and stubbornness to make things right. In order to do that, first, no more raising or opening something leading to Hell for the sake of power.

Second, catching up his long-lost time to bond with his son, Nero. 

For the love of Sparda, the hybrid demon tries his best to be a proper, competent father of a twenty-something grown man with anger and abandonment issues, which is challenging as much as it’s…. unbelievably exhausting. Not that he hated their bonding moments. It just sometimes confuses Vergil, this humanity contexts. He still has a lot to learn and catch up.

Third, try his best to make a normal life.

Which is one of the reasons why he ended up in this small, rustic local library in the town.

If anything about living as a human that could make Vergil at least enjoy his humanity, that would be a book to read. He is still and always an avid reader, even though there are not much books in the Underworld or Mundus curse was powerful enough to made him senseless about anything but The Prince of Darkness orders.

Before the memories of his time as Nelo Angelo stings his head again, he chooses to focus on his reading.

There is one larger library in the town, but this library suits him best. It doesn’t have too many visitors, much to Vergil’s benefit because he appreciates seclusion. He likes this place particularly because the library has rare collections. Perhaps this place is like a heaven on Earth for Vergil, now as he reads a rare edition of Paradise Lost. 

His mother was the one who introduced him to literature, but Vergil’s love for reading bloomed since he meet the Redgrave City librarian— the same man who gave him William Blake’s anthology, which is now Nero’s possession. 

A subtle smirk curves in Vergil lips, remembering how angry and nervous his son when Vergil came back from Hell and Nero wanted to return the book. But Vergil declined, said that it belongs to Nero now and to take care of it with honour. Instead of thanking his father, the boy challenged him for another duel. 

You said you won’t lose next time, old man, Nero had said to him. 

And of course, that time, Vergil won. Which lead to another demand of challenges from his wayward son.

“Cuppa?”

The sound of a woman distracted Vergil.

Another best feature from this library; they serve free-refill coffee. The best coffee Vergil ever tasted since his return from Hell. The fact that the library doesn’t often have visitors might be the reason why they willingly serve free drinks to attract more visitors.

“Thank you,” Vergil said as the woman refills Vergil’s cup.

“You’re welcome,” the woman replies in polite smile.

She always has that kind of smile. Vergil noticed it since his first visit. Always speaks in a-matter-of-fact tone with pleasant but business-only smile. She almost never speak unless necessary. 

Dante had brought him fake ID and licenses from Morrison. Vergil isn’t obnoxious enough to not aware about human ways of bureucracy. His time as V taught him a little too much about it. It just hard for him to believe that Dante made him an obviously fake driving license while he possessed the Yamato, which is more convenient than any vehicles.

“At least,” Dante mocked. “It’s way better than your previous not-so-clever alias.”

Which resulted in another jabbing and broken properties.

What a way to show brotherly love.

Luckily, the younger twin was considerate enough to keep Vergil’s original name at those ID cards, even though it irritates Vergil because the main trouble of having an ID is that your identity would easily revealed. Vergil doesn’t need anyone knows that he’s son of Sparda. That legacy always left him more troubles.

So when the librarian lady asked his name to register his library member three months ago, Vergil, much to his dismay, showed her his fake citizen ID.

“Vergil?” she repeated his name.

“Correct.”

She looked at him suspiciously, “Just Vergil?”

“Yes.” He sensed that the librarian didn’t believe him. He would’ve just go and never return if she declined him, but she just shrugged and wrote his name in her notebook.

“Please wait for a moment,” she smiled while walking to back office.

Three minutes later she brought him his library ID card.

“Two weeks for returning the books. No more than three books to borrow for a week. Rare collections are for read here only. We sell secondhand books too— right there before the reading corners,” she pointed to the bookshelves which has ‘FOR SALE’ sign. “Please contact me if you need some help for searching books or recommendation.”

She handed him his ID card which Vergil accepted.

“Happy reading, Mr Publius Vergilius Maro.”

Not that old joke again, he lamented his parent’s choice of name. How dare this woman-!

“Pardon my rudeness,” she apologized in furtive manner. “The name was just the first thing popped into my head when I heard your name. I mean no offense at all, sir.”

Vergil thought probably she was just one of those people who wants to make some meaningless conversation. Or she was just always like that to new customer to break the ice. But in truth, he was intrigued by her audacity to tell him a joke. He, Vergil, whose entire demeanour screams stay back or die. Moreover, she still able to stayed calm and gave him apologizing smile. But her nervous fingers spoke different meaning, like it begged him to end her misery of being intimidated by his infamous deadly glare.

“None had taken,” he finally said, remembered to show some politeness. A devil he might be, but he’s a man with courtesy. “Thank you for your assistance, Librarian.”

She nodded politely and gave him final apologizing smile before she returned to her work and Vergil walked to his reading corner.

The two has never really spoken since then. Just her offer of a cup of coffee and him thanking her. He sometimes observes her talking with another customers, giving some book recommendations to them, and he think her choices of book are quite impressive. It took him almost three months to realized that this woman is unbelievably brilliant. Her love of books is tangible, as shown when she cleans the bookshelves, organizing books, the way she hands a book to a customer and her anger when her co-worker unintentionally scratched the book.

Somehow it reminded him with the Redgrave librarian. The man who taught him to cherish the splendor of the books.

He turns his attention to a passage from Paradise Lost :

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven…

Such a truth spoken by Satan.

The deeper Vergil digs inside his head, the more he doesn’t want to know what happened in the depth of his memories. His familiars might had gone, but it doesn’t mean he is unbothered with his own dark side of his mind. Ever since his first slumber in Devil May Cry after his arrival from the Underworld, he only slept for no more than a half an hour. His sleep was dreamless, followed with the instinct to stay awake like he used to be in the Underworld. He ended up restless for the rest of the night. Sometimes he would read Dante’s little collection of books, anything which doesn’t include inappropriate contents. He just want to distract his unsettling memories, mostly about his regrets and unanswered questions from the past.

He didn’t know where was that librarian after demons attacked Sparda Manor. Had he survived? He wouldn’t know for sure. He didn’t have time to think about it that time. He needed to save his mother and brother, but instead he was left—

Stop, he urges himself. Mother tried to save me too.

Vergil doesn’t even realized he gripped his book a bit too hard.

Maybe I need something lighter to read.

He close the book and stand up to return the book to its shelf. He never moved too far from his favourite reading corner for an introverted man like him; the farthest corner between rare collection bookshelves. Here he could read in peace, musing without any interferences except the librarian’s offer of coffee, which he eventually get used to.

“Hello again, Mr Vergil,”

There she is, standing on the ladder and organizing books. She barely sees Vergil’s figure, but it’s easy for her to recognize the presence of the only rare collection’s visitor, who is none other than Vergil himself. She knows other visitors would leave this corner immediately because of Vergil’s intimidating demeanor. None of them would stay to read or just searching for book.

Vergil returns the book to its place. His icy eyes sneakily lingers to the figure of the librarian. She looks busy storing the books, humming a song which Vergil doesn’t recognize.

“Done with Milton already?” she asks.

How did she know?

“You looked rather enjoy it before I offered you to refill your cup,” she continues. “It makes me feel guilty, as if my presence ruined your mood.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Vergil turns his sight to another row of bookshelf. And more importantly, why doesn’t she just shut her mouth?

She finishes her organizing and starts to climb down from the stair. Vergil could not help but admiring the way she seems pleased with her job. She cleans her hand with a napkin, folding it and put it back inside the pocket of her brown midi skirt. She suddenly turns her attention to Vergil, who is quickly pulling away his gaze, pretending to be busy searching for book.

“May I give you some recommendations?” she offers with careful and awkward gesture, like she’s afraid she would disturb the menacing man in front of her.

Despite his annoyance of her presence, he remembers her passion of books. He noted her excellent choices of book. She seems reliable enough. Maybe she really could help.

“At the current given moment, I prefer to read something lighter, but enough to give me an insight.” Vergil answers dismissively. “Not necessarily fiction, actually.”

A little challenge to show your competency.

The librarian goes silent for a moment. Her eyes wander to the bookshelves. There, Vergil silently notice, that the librarian always has that kind of eyes; a pair of beautiful brown eyes, but a blank, void stare.

The truth? Her eyes slightly bothers him. Every humans, even demons, always has something to tell from their eyes. But the ones that librarian possess doesn’t tell him even a thing.

“Right!” she exclaims, pointing at a book in the row next to Vergil. “How much do you know about astronomy?”

“Beg your pardon?” The hybrid couldn’t believe what he just heard as he turns around to face the librarian.

“Astronomy. A branch of science that studies celestial—“

“I am fully aware of what astronomy is,” Vergil declares. “All of those books, why do you choose astronomy?”

“Because,” she takes the book she pointed before. “You seem to enjoy ancient texts. Your top borrowed books were all classics. You see, we don’t have many visitors and it’s noticeable that you’re the only person who consistently lingers at this section. It’s not hard to tell that you fancy this section the most. I thought classics and ancient knowledges would suit you the best. Therefore…” she shows him the book she recommended. “You might like Almagest.”

Almagest. Vergil remembers the copy of that book in Sparda’s private room in the Manor. He didn’t really paid attention to that book, although he did actually pick up that book and observe it delinquently rather than taking it seriously. He was still a child after all. He didn’t even think about reading it until now.

He receives the hardcover book from the librarian’s hands and observes the book. His fingers flip the pages carefully.

“Almagest is one of the most influential text all the time. The very source of ancient Greek astronomy that was accepted for more than 1000 years and becomes one of the basis of modern astronomy. Unfortunately, we don’t have the original version of Almagest… but the one you read now contains both the original and translated texts. You won’t find any difficulty to read it, just in case you’re not familiar with ancient Greek. The book also contains star catalog. Ptolemy’s catalog contains about 1022 stars, including the stars positions arranged into 48 constellations. The Ptolemaic constellation… as we know it in the present. Andromeda, Ursa Major, Sagittarius…” the librarian explains while observing Vergil’s behaviour cautiously, looking for some approving signal from the hybrid. “A rather quite insightful reading, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Vergil sternly states. His eyes still fixates to the book, studying the graphs and tables, admiring the beauty of ancient Greek text and the planetary model. “Although, indeed, quite like a page-turner for stargazer.“

“I believe that astronomy is more than mere stargazing,” the librarian continues. Her tone is almost enthusiastic. “It is concerned with the formation and development of the universe itself. The universe always expanding, getting further from us while we are still standing here, wondering what happened outside the Earth…”

Vergil glances at her. The librarian’s eyes scanning through the books, but she seems out of the place. Caught in her own muse. The fusion of the magnificence of bookshelves and the librarian’s state of wonder somehow makes her look ethereal.

She looked pale, mysterious—like a lily, drowned, under water.

“There is Demon World,” Vergil sighs, closing the book in satisfied gesture. “The one human still trying to figure out in which system this world could be.”

“Oh, I wonder that too!” she quickly agrees. “They published a lot of researches about that. None of them actually make sense, more like a pseudo-science—Oh, pardon my twaddles! Are you going to borrow that book or should I recommend another one?”

Vergil shake his head, “This will do. Thank you for your recommendation.”

The librarian sighs in relief, “Anytime, Mr Vergil. I shall continue my work then.”

There it is again. The blank stare. The unsettling mix of pretty smile and void eyes. Something is off, but what? What does it means? She is nothing but a mere human. Why am I troubled for something nonsensical like the voidness of her eyes?

Yet he knows that if she turns her back and leaving him, he would never get his answer.

“On second thought, Librarian.”

The librarian tilts her head, “You changed your mind already?”

“On the contrary. I need some enlightment about Almagest and your knowledges regarding astronomy,” Such a buffoon, Vergil Sparda. “I believe your help will suffice.”

The librarian seems pleased with Vergil’s request. She nods in excitement, happy that someone needs her help and ideas, “Certainly.”

She excuses herself to get more coffee for both of them whilst Vergil returns to his usual desk and rest his head, processing to clear his brain from any irrelevant informations when suddenly a glimpse of his experience as V comes up.

This life’s dim windows of the soul

Distorts the heavens from pole to pole

And leads you to believe a lie

When you see with, not through, the eye.

There was a time when he, as V, memorized that poem at the center of Redgrave City. He was exterminating demons along with his familiars. He did his best to save any last survivors as much as he can. Between his own survival agenda and his unnatural obsession to defeat Dante, he truly realized the tremendous gravity of crime he did all this time for his pursuit of power. All he wanted that time was just a chance of redemption. He saved the humans compulsively, again and again. Like he would never get atonement at all.

That was the time he learnt that every humans and demons has stories in their eyes. Whether it’s hunger, glutton, joy, fear, sadness, painful memories. It was all reflected in the eyes. Their desires were always transparent like an open book. Even his mother once said that eyes are the window of the soul. Vergil used this wisdom to analyze his enemies. To find out their true intention. But at that time, as V, he used the knowledge to understand humanity and self-introspection. To accept his own emotions and weaknesses.

It all make sense now why the librarian’s existence intrigues Vergil.

It’s her eyes, Vergil contemplates. Ones that didn't tell me its stories.

He quickly lifts his head when he hears the little steps of the librarian approaching him.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting,” she apologizes while placing a tray of pot of coffee and a book on the desk, careful not to place it too close to the Almagest. She fills their cups calmly, enjoying the coffee’s delightful smell. Though Vergil noticed her awkwardness for being around him.

It’s clear that the librarian feels a degree of burden from accepting the challenge from this mysterious, brooding tall man who visits the library almost every week. She’s aware of how intelligent this man could be. How he would challenge her intellect and make her arguments invalid. Even his name is enough to convince her that the man in front of her will be her most peculiar customer to handle.

However, their discussion regarding Almagest is running smoothly. Though not an expert of astronomy herself, she’s capable of explaining Vergil’s questions regarding the Almagest and astronomical trivias. Her eyes might not tell him anything, but he can sense her true passion in astronomy. She doesn’t speak unless Vergil ask her something he’s not quite understand. He notices the librarian silently reads The Fall of the House of Usher. She shows no difficulty switching her reading and tag along with their discussion. 

“I am sure not an expert of Almagest, but I hope I can still give you some enlightment,” says the librarian before she sips her coffee.

“You already are,” Vergil admits. He scans Ptolemy’s equant model and memorizing the librarian’s explanation. From all chapters of the book, he found the star catalogue to be the most interesting part.

Young Vergil was astonished with the stars. Back to his childhood at Sparda Manor, when the night falls, the twins used to sneak out from their bedroom and climb the roof to stargazing. They were too young to truly acknowledged the beauty of the night sky, but Vergil enjoyed that moment. It was hard to find the right time to get along with Dante and made him sit still without bugging him any further. Dante would occasionally pointed on something in the sky, pretending he saw a meteor. Vergil would replied with sarcastic remarks as always, saying that he acts foolish or something. Then it would lead to another brotherly fight.

“The star catalogue is certainly the most enticing part of the book,” Vergil mutters, sipping his coffee as he inspects Ptolemy’s star chart.

“Indeed. The star map is ancestral to the modern system of constellations. Now there is another 40 officially recorgnized constellations and two trillions galaxies.”

The librarian adds new informations for Vergil, including the brightest stars of the constellations and best months to find it. He returns the favour by telling her more details about Greek mythology, which is inseparable with Ptolemy’s star mapping.

“It seems to me that ancient Greek gods has a fancy preference to placed their fallen heroes in the sky, if not, curse them into something ridiculous,” the librarian contemplates.

“Not all heroes,” Vergil refutes. “Cassiopeia mocked the Gods by boasting her daughter being more beautiful than all the Nereids. She was chained in her own throne as her punishment. Then Poseidon condemned her to circle the celestial pole forever.”

“More like a good example of what being a narcissistic could do rather than a tribute for her.” She mumbles. “It’s interesting to note that both Cassiopeia constellation and narcissistics have a similar trait.”

“Which is?”

“They are all easily spotted and visible all around the year.”

Vergil tries so hard not to burst in laugh. “Are there any constellations visible all the year aside from Cassiopeia?”

“There are Draco, Cepheus, Ursa Major and… Ursa Minor. There,” She points the picture of four constellations. “Together with Cassiopeia, they are circumpolar constellations of northern sky. These constellations circling Polaris, the brightest star of Ursa Minor. Commonly known as The North Pole Star. The big bear Ursa Major is the largest northern constellation. It also contains the most prominent asterism in the night sky, oftenly confused for the constellation itself. Cassiopeia is always easily recognized for its clear W shape, like she was being chained on her throne as you mentioned it earlier. While her husband and worst father ever to sacrificed his daughter to sea monster, Cepheus, is not widely known in spite of its size. Cepheus and Draco are two of the largest constellations in the sky but their stars are not as prominent as Ursa Major.”

“And these constellations remain invisible from southern locations?”

“Sadly, yes. But the south has its circumpolar constellations too. There are Centaurus, Carina, and Crux. You won’t find Carina and Crux in the Almagest. It was Argo Navis before French astronomer de Lacaille divided it into the three smaller constellations; Carina, Puppis, and Vela. As for the Crux, it was originally considered to be a part of the Centaurus before 1679, and the smallest of 88 constellations, if I’m not mistaken…”

“If you are not mistaken.” Vergil emphasises sarcastically.

“Which means I am certain that I mentioned it right.” she evades.

The librarian tries her best to not let her laughter comes out when she notices Vergil’s permanent frown gets more crumpled.

The librarian seems to enjoy driving the half-devil to the edge with her dry wit. She finds it funny to see Vergil grunts in annoyance, or his slightly amused grin whenever she said something peculiar. Maybe because the man in front of her right now is always covered by mysterious cloud. That his face is always solemn, imperceptible. He looks sullen, like he never laughed for his entire life. He really needs a bloody lot of kips, she thinks, taking note to Vergil’s darkened eyebags as she compares with her own eyebags, which she thought were quite dark already.

She was going to continue her explanation regarding the southern circumpolar constellations before an unexpected thought spills out from her mouth, “You are haunted, Mr Vergil.”

The atmospheres shifts abruptly. The hybrid’s shoulders stiffens as he glares to the librarian as a warning to not cross the line. His frightening stare sent chills down to the librarian’s spine that she almost choked on her own coffee.

“What’s with the sudden impudent commentary of yours, Librarian?” Vergil doesn’t try to hide his vexation.

“Uh… well…” the librarian chuckled nervously as she hides her face behind her novel, shielding herself from Vergil’s intimidating glare. “You always look like you are either staring to nothing or focus on your book. There is no in-between.”

“You’d be disappointed to know the fact that a lot of people do that. Every time.”

“True,” she agrees. “But you are different. You have the eyes of a man who still try to adjust the new world. Most of people are haunted by the past… but you are haunted by the present.”

She shut her mouth almost immediately, realizing Vergil does nothing but giving her threatening look to stop analyzing him. It was her only detriment; to be innocently curious about everything, silently observing and analyzing things. Most of her ideas are boxed inside her head. She never said it out loud. But this time she couldn’t help but spilling her thoughts. That she finds Vergil interesting.

“I will forgive your impertinence,” the blue demon closes the book and shifts his position to relax his previously tensed shoulders. “Only if you explain why do you think I’m haunted by the present.”

“Well,” she grins and bluntly explains, “There are two kinds of people who willingly to spend the rest of the day staying here; a keen of literature or a misanthrope. I dare say you are both, but I think you are here because you are overwhelmed with the outside world. You are adjusting something you had never experienced before. That adjustment, whatever it is, haunts you. It confuses you, what happens now and how you would react about it. Like the moment when you were unfamiliar with our registrative custom, which was odd because you looked like it was your first time registering something. Honestly? I thought you were making up your name. You looked terribly confused back then, as if you didn’t recognize your own name. You seems… detached from reality.”

I must not let my guard down anymore, Vergil makes a mental note as he feels defeated, even though he won’t admit that everything she said was the truth.

“Pause,” The librarian let out a gasp as she notices Vergil’s inconvenience, “Is it really okay if I continue? I don’t like being psychoanalyzed and I’m completely understand if you want me to stop.”

“You are too late for that. You already talk a little too much.”

“But you said you will forgive me only if I keep talking!”

“If you explain your impertinence.. not chattering like a mockingbird.”

“That’s harsh! Besides, how could I explain if I am not allowed to keep talking?”

I’m done playing words with this woman, Vergil slowly growls in frustration. He never thought that having conversation with a human could be this infuriating. “Then let’s settle the matter. Tell me your thoughts and be done with it.”

“Fair enough,” she seems satisfied, enjoying Vergil’s defeat and curiousity. “For the record, you are the one who asked me to talk. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.  Where was I…? Oh, yes, detached from reality. You speak about humans differently. You treated your surroundings like a bystander. Like you distinguish yourself from reality. It make sense, actually. To understand something, we must separate ourselves from it.”

“I get your point.”

The librarian looks puzzled, “Did you?”

“Of course.”

“Was that mean I was right about you?”

“Even if you are right, I won’t bother to tell you.”

“No… it just…” she taps her fingers slowly. “It’s hard for me to express my point of view, particularly to strangers. Moreover, to make them understand.”

“You’ve done well to the customers.”

“That was different. It’s for business.” She waves her hand nonchalantly. “My point is, maybe this library is the right place for you to adjust yourself. I don’t have any slightest ideas of what you’ve been through, but you deserve to find your peace. Other customers will find you too scary that they will leave this section as fast as they can—I mean, look at yourself! But what I see is just… a man who wants a little solitude from this noisy world. And I believe everyone deserves their own place in the sky… like the stars. No matter how insignificant they feel about themselves.”

The elder son of Sparda found himself stunned by her words. He never thought a human could possess the ability to see people in such illuminating way. She doesn’t flatter nor mock him, just simply stated her intuitive opinions about him. She but a stranger, seeing right through his psyche. The same odd woman who is now obliviously reading her novel like she had already forgotten of what she said earlier.

“You saw a lot, Librarian. That’s an exceptional gift.”

“Compulsive observation isn’t counted as exceptional gift. More like a curse, but thank you. Of course I could be wrong. Maybe you are just another introvert bloke who’s happened to passed by and read something here. Who knows?” 

They now surrounded by a soothing silence. Both of them are preoccupied with their own thoughts. Vergil contemplates the librarian’s words about his adjustment with the present. He never really paid attention about that, but it turns out to be the very reason why he still fear any kind of human contacts. He lost so many years that he almost forgot how it is to be alive.

When he saw Dante and Nero for the first after he re-emerged, he couldn’t believe that everything around him was real. That everything was not a mere illusion anymore. He spent mindless and controlled under Mundus’s cruel illusion for years that the line between the real and the fake were blurring. He was blind and chained. Far too long that his soul was decayed.

And to think he still has a chance to make things right… to be truly alive in the present…

Yet there is still one thing that holds him back. There is a part of him which screaming in agony, searching for validity of his confusing emotions. A part which he hides it deep in his mind palace. The one he refuses to share. For he is afraid that he won’t get any enlightment. That he could be the old Vergil who was obsessed with power. The part that granted him moral codes and compassion.

His doubt on his humanity.

“I used to hate humans,” Vergil finally confesses. “I used to think that they are all weak and useless, and I loathed myself for being a part of human.”

The librarian gives him a curious look, her lips curves into a playful smile, “You stop hating them now? Why, you are right about them anyway.”

The hybrid cannot hold his surprise. The lady in front of him… a mortal human, confirmed Vergil’s confession with ease. As if she herself isn’t human. But that can’t be true, you are a human, right? Vergil tries so hard to not bluntly asking something obvious which could make him look like an imbecile. She doesn’t seem surprised at all by Vergil’s unusual confession.

“It might sounds strange, for I myself a human. But you are right about humans. I could understand why you hated them. Easily corrupted and manipulated, they destroy themselves for something meaningless. But humans are truly fascinating being.”

“Fascinating being…” Vergil murmurs dismissively.

“I think you know it as well as me,” she peeks over her book to meet Vergil’s intimidating, yet calming gaze. “They stand on the grey zone. They are unpredictable, complex being. While most demons only want power and human flesh to consume, humans only desire self-actualization. To be a better version of themselves. That could lead them in many ways. To do things differently. Isn’t that interesting, to think that all the humans in this world are never really the exact same individual? Humans are unique, Mr Vergil. Each of them. Their ability to endure is transcendent.”

“Humans are selfish being.” Vergil objects. “Their desire of self-actualization is misleading. Some humans want to be demon so much that they become something worse than the demon itself.” Including my former self. “They crave for something more. Their greed is boundless.”

“Indeed,” she admits. “I won’t defend that fact. Humans are biologically and inherently selfish. The same goes with human emotions. Though oftenly fallacious, it’s important for human survival…”

“Sounds like a creature of flaw.”

“No one’s perfect, Mr Vergil. Everyone’s flawed. “ the librarian took notice of skepticism in Vergil’s statement. “Yet you stop hating humanity.”

“I try to embrace the fact that I’m part of humanity.”

“Why?”

“… because I have a family to protect.”

“There,” she gives him understanding wink. “Unlike demons, humans have connection to each other called compassion. Their instinct to protect their beloved ones. Their need of security and sense of belonging. Without all of it, humans would ended up just like beasts. That’s what distiguished us from demons. But not all demons. They said Dark Knight Sparda fought for humanity and became a human as well. It seems to me that every humans and demons have choice to be the better or the worst version of theirselves… to be a demon, to be a human… to conquer or to protect.”

“Without strength, you cannot protect anything,” Vergil adds, more like talking to himself.

“Fine word, Mr Vergil.”

“That’s what happens when you’re responsible for lives other than your own.”

“Which means you are not fighting alone. You have someone to protect you.”

You’re gonna need some help… and someone to keep an eye on you, Dante’s voice echoed inside Vergil's head. Had Vergil dismissed him, he would ended up alone again in the Underworld. The fact that Dante was willingly throw himself to join Vergil made him feel secure. That he’s protected.

Why did it take him so long to realise that he was always saved by humanity?

“Ah… that remind me of something…” The librarian seems out of place again. Her unusual pale face is suddenly turns deadpan. But that statement just left hanging in the air as the librarian went back from her reverie. Leaving a trace of voidness in her eyes.

“Your eyes, librarian,” Vergil addresses after he saw the voidness again. “Those eyes spoke nothing.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve seen thousands stories behind every eyes.” The hybrid knocks his fingers on the Almagest as he feels the urge to tell her the truth. That he was enchanted (or bothered?) by her unsettling eyes. “But yours telling me nothing.”

“Oh… well, what am I supposed to do with that information?” she closes her book abruptly, startled by the statement. “They said eyes are the window of the soul, am I right? Was that mean I have no soul?”

“On the contrary,” Vergil disproves. “You have a wanderer soul. A mind of philosopher.”

She flustered as she breaks her eye contact with Vergil. “Well… thank you?”

“You are welcome.” he says softly. “It just… nevermind. Forget everything I said about your eyes. I must have mistook it for something else.”

He lied, of course. His intuition never betrayed him. There’ll be another time, Vergil thought, realizing it’s futile to contend with the librarian. This was their first real conversation since their encounter three months ago and both of them need some time to open up. He won’t rush it. Not that now he really wanted to at least make an acquaintance with a normal human. Moreover, the one who could keep up with his mind and antics,

The librarian seems uncomfortable with Vergil’s appraisal. It was odd, since she thought Vergil isn’t the kind of person who would’ve easily praise someone. Little does she know that Vergil would only compliments people who’s worth his time and energy. She avoids Vergil’s inquisitive eyes, tapping her wristwatch, ”I hate to end our discussion, but apparently we’re closed.”

Vergil surveys at the winter sky that soon will turn into dark, velvet blue from the window beside his desk, “Very well then.”

“You may borrow it as long as you want,” the librarian points at the Almagest as she cleans the empty cups.

“Would that be okay for you?” Vergil doubtly glances at the book.

“Just please don’t report me to Mr Steiner,” she chuckles when she mentioned the library’s owner. Vergil remembers an old man and his occasional visits to the library and checking notes at receptionist table. “A kind one, that man, but his wrath was horrendous.”

“Won’t your colleague complain about this?”

“Nate? He’s off duty today. Worry not, he rarely checks Rare Section.” She stands up, about to lift her tray. “Oh, and please take a great care of it. I’d lose all of my wages if you somehow decided to broke it.”

“I won’t,” he reassures. “Although it is not wise to trust a stranger, Librarian.”

“Righty-ho,” she winks mischievously. “Yet I believe this stranger will keep his words.”

“And how would this stranger keep his words if he doesn’t even know the name of the very person who made him promised?”

“Ah… Mr Vergil… I did mentioned my name in our earlier discussion!” she giggles as she grips her tray in excitement. “But yes, I didn’t precisely tell you that it was my name.”

“I don’t like riddles.”

“Ha! Then let’s play a riddle, shall we? It should be easy if you listened carefully to my explanations regarding constellations!”

It is surely futile to contend with this peculiar woman. As much as he dislikes to accept the challenge, he ultimately agreed to prove his competency. He won’t lose to everyone, let alone this scallywag librarian. He folds his hands on the chest as she prepares to give him clues :

“I am visible in the Northern and Southern hemispheres

I am prominent in the summer night sky

I belong to the Hercules family of constellations 

My closest neighbour constellation is Cygnus

The meteor shower appears annually in April

I have one of the brightest star in the sky.”

The hybrid goes silent, recalling his recent discussion with the librarian. He remembers the librarian briefly mentioned this constellation— a small constellation, but its brightest star is the fifth brightest star in the sky…

The process of recall also brings him to the second passage of Georgics, which originally was a Greek tale of tragic story between a musician who attempted to retrieving his dead lover from the Underworld. He managed to get through all of the obstacles only by the play of his music instrument and softened the heart of Hades, the ruler of the Underworld.

This pattern of memories immediately leads him to his answer.

“You are heavily associated with the musician Orpheus, who took his own life after his failure to ressurect Eurydice, his beloved wife. Then Zeus placed you, Orpheus’s most cherished instrument, amongst the stars,” Vergil smiles in victory. “The lyre… Lyra.”

Lyra smiles slyly, “Touché, Mr Vergil.”

“Just Vergil is fine.”

“Very well then, Vergil.”

Lyra excuses herself to wash the cups, but Vergil insists to follow her to receptionist table. He waits her to finish the washing and packing her belongings while reading the motions of Venus and Mars from the Almagest. He occasionally asks her something concerning the part he read on and she’ll answer his questions from her office.

“Your choice of word was interesting, Vergil.” Lyra shouts while drying the cups.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said Orpheus took his own life,” she recites. “But let say God doesn’t exist, then it’s absurd to say that he took his own life. Taking it from who? If his life was truly his…”

The hybrid demon sighs frustratedly, “It’s a figure of speech. Do you always take things too literally?”

“Blimey, Vergil. I was just joking!” the librarian appears in the office doorway as she wears her gloves. Her blue oversized sweater is now covered with black babydoll coat. Vergil makes a mental note of her elegant, classy appearance as the two of them heading out of the library. Clearly she is a type of person who prioritize comfort in clothing rather than fashion, but she is nonetheless still an attractive woman. 

“Your whimsical sense of humour could drive one to insanity,” he remarks, but there is no offensive tone in his voice. He does enjoy her quirky humour, though he won’t admit it.

“Oh, Vergil…” Lyra smiles mysteriously while locking the entrance door. “You have no idea what insanity is.”

Or maybe I do have the idea.

They continue their conversation until they walk pass the crowd of the street. As the conversation goes on, Vergil mentally noted Lyra’s favourites and her quirks; she has too many favourite books, but she will always re-read The Hound of Baskerville and The Silence of the Lambs. Vergil was never stand too close from her to notice her slight limp on her right leg— too subtle that normal human eyes couldn’t spot it. He wonders how she got that, but he doesn’t ask. Instead he tells her his favourites and that he prefers classics, but he’s open for something new.

“Wait a second.”

Lyra jogs to a patch of blooming snowdrops as they’re passing a playground. She picks the flower, making a small bouquet from it, and quickly returns to Vergil, who’s waiting for her in confusion.

“Galanthus nivalis,” she hands him the bouquet. “They say snowdrop represents a friend in adversity.”

“Also consolation and hope,” Vergil adds. He touches the petals with one of his gloveless finger delicately, as he recalls the language of flowers his mother taught him once. The twins were regularly helped their mother gardening as she told them the story behind every flowers.

Lyra lifts her eyebrows, “Never thought you’d familiar with floriography.”

“As a librarian, I think you know it better than me to not judge a book by its cover.”

“You got a point there," she scans through the snowdrops on Vergil’s firm hand. “My mother once told me, if I find myself lost, pick flowers.” 

“That was an exquisite wisdom.”

“It is,” she grins. “That’s why I picked you these snowdrops. You seem lost. You should start picking more flowers.”

“Only if I lose myself,” Vergil pledges. “At the moment, I think I already have my answers. You’ve been very helpful.”

“No worries,“ Lyra continues her walk before she turns her back to Vergil again. “I’ll take my leave here. It was a pleasure to meet you, Vergil.”

The hybrid doesn’t respond. He doesn’t like the idea of her walking all alone in dark alleys. There is a part of him which urging him to escort her until she’s safely arrived at her house. The world is full of danger. It could be anything; demons, thieves, serial killers, even natural disasters. “I could… you know… escort you home.” Vergil almost bite his lips, curse himself for his reckless offer. 

Lyra shake her head, although she noticed the visible concern from the man who stand still in front of her. “It’s very kind of you to offer me escortion, but I still have to stop by my friend’s house.”

Her face determines her reluctance to be escorted that Vergil couldn’t find better excuse, “If you say so.”

"Well… normally I would say ‘goodbye’ to strangers because I don’t plan to meet them again. But this time I’ll say ‘auf Wiedersehen’, means ‘until we see each other again’”.

“Bold of you to assume that we will see each other again.” 

“As a librarian, I have a duty to remind you that you still have a book to return.”

Vergil couldn’t help but chuckles as he’s amused with her perfect comeback. Her laughter is strong enough to make Vergil reciting a poem that revolved around his head regarding her presence :

“The sun descending in the west

The evening star does shine

The birds are silent in their nest

And I must seek for mine.

The moon, like a flower,

In heaven’s high bower,

With silent delight

Sits and smiles on the night.”

The librarian stands speechless. The pupil of her eyes dilates in awestruck, not aware of the hybrid’s delicacy of making those void eyes now full in adoration.

“That was… splendid.” she blurts. “I’ve heard that somewhere… Shakespeare? Wordsworth? Oh, no no no… hmm… Blake?”

She smiles in victory as Vergil gives her a confirmation nod. She remembered Vergil’s book list, “Your favourite, of course.”

“Do me a favour,” Vergil says seriously. “Be very careful on your way back home. Our world is a savage world.”

“Of course.“ She nods in beam. “Though I assure you, I’m penniless and too troublesome to be kidnapped.”

“I can see that.“

Lyra waves her hand playfully as she takes her leave, “Auf Wiedersehen, Publius Vergilius Maro.”

The blue demon couldn’t help but rolls his eyes.

“Word of advice, Vergil,” she shouts before she disappears into the crowd of the boulevard. “Ad astra per aspera.”

To the stars through difficulties. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Vergil waits until he can’t see Lyra’s figure anymore. He somewhat feel guilty for leaving her defenseless, alone in the street. Yet he trusts his intuition, that she is capable of taking care of herself. It doesn’t stop him to think that he will escort her if she allows him, though. Being around her is just… different. It’s different from what Vergil feels when he’s with Dante and Nero. Definitely not the same way when he’s around Devil May Cry crews. Even this is the different kind of feeling he once had for Nero’s mother, a long time ago.

The blue hybrid looks up to the cloudy night sky.

According to Lyra’s explanation, winter is the best season for stargazing. There are so much observable astronomical events in this season, not to mention the appearance of Winter Triangle and Winter Hexagon, the two major asterism that dominates the winter night sky. 

“The Winter Triangle formed by Betelgeuse in Orion, Sirius in Canis Major, and Procyon in Canis Minor,” Vergil recalled Lyra’s voice when they discussed asterism. “While the Winter Hexagon are much more complicated. There are Rigel in Orion, Aldebaran in Taurus, Castor and Pollux in Gemini, Capella in Auriga, and the two from the Winter Triangle: Sirius and Procyon. Sometimes both asterisms appear simultaneously.”

One of the perks of being a half-human and half-demon is enhanced senses, including advanced vision. The sky isn’t clear, for the clouds are too dense, but Vergil can easily spot the Winter Triangle without difficulty. The stars are shining brightly that it reflects back in Vergil’s blue eyes. There is Sirius, he spots the second brightest star as viewed from Earth. He remembers Lyra mentioned that Sirius will continue to be the brightest star in the Earth’s night sky for the next 210.000 years.

He’s not sure that he would live to witness that phenomenon. Even Sparda didn’t live that long. Yet the fact that he would someday die doesn’t bother him. He is no longer interested in searching for power anymore, now that he realized that his true power lies within his humanity. He becomes more convinced after his conversation with Lyra. That humanity is flawed, but worth to defend. It makes him the man he is now.

The thought of the librarian gave him a moment of serenity in the darkness of the street. Gently, he slips the snowdrop bouquet Lyra made for him between the pages of Almagest. The token of their friendship. Her offer for his adversity. That remind him of a poem his mother once recited for him, when he was helping her at the garden of Sparda Manor :

“Now— now, as I stooped, thought I

I will see what this snowdrop is

So shall I put much argument by

And solve a lifetime’s mysteries.”

“Interesting.” He mutters to himself as he summons the Yamato, cut the space to open a portal and walks towards Devil May Cry office.

–

Here's the source of recited and mentioned poems and lines :

Paradise Lost by John Milton

Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

Georgics by Virgil

Night by William Blake

The Snowdrop by Walter de la Mere

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfic #vergil #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #vergil x oc #oc #original character #astronomy #star #constellation #almagest #claudius ptolemy #lyra #the language of flowers #flowers #floriography #snowdrop #friendship #night writes

[woop-dee-doop]

What id also like to say is...(I apologize for any grammatical errors, I’ll fix any errors later)

What I absolutely HATE, with a BURNING PASSION is when someone tells me to “sToP wORrYiNg”, “sTop bEInG sO paRANOID” about certain things.

I get they might not know what else to say but BUT BRO TELLING ME TO STOP BEING PARANOID IS NOT GONNA HELP. How can I stop being paranoid or worry about how I may die one day and no one will care-life will go on? (If I’m being watched 24/7 and I don’t know WHO IS WATCHING? If something bad may happen to me or my public image by someone who spreads false info or rumours? My health??? If ppl are constantly judging me or maybe someone secretly hates me???)

If you want to at least say something but you don’t know anything appropriate to say, you can at least say “I don’t exactly know how to respond to this, but just know that everything will be okay, I might not understand how you feel but I’ll be here for you...” yk, say reassuring words. Dont tell me to stop worrying or stop being paranoid or DISMISSING MY FEELINGS like I’m acting crazy or being delusional (or maybe i am delusional?????idek)

Especially when I’m sometimes emotional support for someone and I try to at least reassure them and listen to them (yk you gotta be there for them because we gotta support each other in each other’s time of need) and definitely NOT tell them to “Stop BeInG dEpResSed”, because I know the wouldnt want to hear that, and I KNOW, they can’t just “stop being depressed”. But I hate that when it’s my time to disclose certain feelings I have inside to someone when they ask about me-or it’s because of a certain topic and I just so happen to say how much a worry over this one thing-they say “stOP WorRYING” when I know for a fact that if I were the one telling them the same thing, THEY would have a problem.

I get that everyone struggles with certain mental issues, and the person who I talk to (I’m pretty sure they’re depressed? They at least say that and They go to a councilor for sessions, that’s all I know) struggles with their issues, but all I want is that....even if you don’t mean it, even if you DONT CARE....just reassure or at least say something that isn’t as dismissive as “STOP BEING THIS” STOP BEING THAT”, “STOP WORRYING OVER THIS”, “YOURE BEING DRAMATIC”. Anxiety (or just worrying overall) isn’t something that can be turned off with the flip of a switch. Just like how depression can’t be turned off with a flip of the switch either...or ANY mental illness at all

(Idk if I phrased this all well because im just going off on how I feel atm, but hopefully you can at least get the gist. I don’t mean to sound selfish, but I just hate when ppl say these certain things.)

#ramblings #topic of anxiety #worrying #anxiety #anxious #depression #mention of depression #anxietyposting #I absolutely hate this #mental health #mental health support #anxietymeme #justputtingtagstomakepplfindthis #tumblrpost #mention of death #venting #vent post

[soberqueerinthewild]

So you guys all know that @jumbled-nonsense is the best! I just realized it was her birthday today, and had to do something to celebrate! Maura and I first started talking because she posted on discord that she was starting Red, White, and Royal Blue, so I busted into her DMs demanding that she flail at me while she read it. She did and it was the best, and we’ve been flailing about things to each  other ever since! So in honor of her birthday, here is a brief Red, White, and Royal Blue fic I wrote in about two hours this morning (which, if you know me is astounding because usually it takes me like a month to write anything). It has not been beta’d or you know, edited or anything. It’s Liam’s POV of the phone call Alex makes to him as he’s going through his bisexual awakening. Hope you enjoy and don’t get too distracted by typos and grammatical errors! 

***

“Babe, staring at the kitchen door isn’t gonna make your food come any faster. We ordered like five minutes ago. You’re gonna have to have at least a modicum or patience. You will not, in fact, starve to death.” 

Liam groans in agreement and frustration, forced to acknowledge the objective truth of his boyfriend’s statement. The downside to his favorite brunch spot in Austin is that it is annoyingly popular. To avoid the line you had to show up early. He and Spencer had gotten, well, rather enjoyably distracted this morning, meaning that by the time they got there, the line was halfway up the block, and by the time they were seated it was very firmly in the range of lunch time, rather than brunch and Liam is fucking starving. 

To distract himself, he pulls his gaze back to Spencer’s handsome face. It’s no hardship really. It’s been a year, but it still amazes him sometimes that he gets to have this. Not just a hot boyfriend, but one who will grab his hand across the table and press a kiss to his palm. Who gazes at him with open adoration, even when he’s being fidgety and annoying because he’s two seconds away from gnawing off his own hand if they don’t get food soon. He smiles back at Spencer, squeezing his hand across the table. 

There had been a time, in the not so distant past, where he thought he might be facing a grim future of furtive handjobs with “no-homo” disclaimers tossed off as soon as the orgasm glow faded. Fear of his parents’ disapproval had kept him closeted far too long, and he’d found out and proud guys were unlikely to want to step in there with him for long, so he’d played it safe through the first two years of college with guys like him, who were fiercely clinging to denial. 

Of course, denial had been kind of futile for Liam. It was tough to convince himself he was straight when the catalyst for his gay awakening popped up not infrequently on the news and seemed to grace the cover of half the tabloids in the supermarket. 

Though he’d deny it if ever confronted, Liam bought nearly every one he saw during President Claremont’s first year in office. He tried to convince himself it was idle curiosity. His high school best friend was the first son of the United States! It was weird! He just wanted to know what he was up to. Of course, he could’ve answered Alex’s calls instead or responded to his oblivious texts with more than one word if that was what he actually wanted. But nope, embarrassingly enough, he knew he was really searching for any hint, or even the most subtle suggestion of a gay rumor. It was frankly shocking that he hadn’t found one. He’d seen stories intimating drug use, orgies, unexpected pregnancies with movie stars Liam’s fairly certain Alex had never even met, but not even a single tabloid story questioning the first son’s sexuality. 

Liam wasn’t sure why it felt important to him to have some confirmation, however flimsy, that Alex wasn’t entirely straight. Liam knew that there existed mostly straight guys who’d accept a “helping hand” if they were horny enough. Maybe it truly had been experimentation for Alex, quickly cast aside in favor of Nora Halleron’s curves. But Alex hadn’t kissed him like a guy experimenting. A handjob could be explained away, but making out with another guy for an hour? That wasn’t straight guy behavior, no matter what Liam had himself insisted at the time. It just didn’t make sense. 

Liam supposes Alex could be bisexual but closeted. Liam hadn’t come out until roughly two years ago, even though he’d known he was gay for much longer than that. With being in the spotlight and the political ramifications, it was the most obvious explanation for Alex’s behavior, but Alex just didn’t strike him as the closeted type. He was all chaotic energy and fierce moral certitude, a combination that would have made staying closeted for three years all but impossible. Alex was politically savvy no doubt, and would’ve likely created a 25 point plan for managing any political fallout, if his recklessness hadn’t forced the issue first, but Liam can’t imagine him letting fear keep him quiet for that long, especially as Liam is sure his mom would’ve supported him in coming out if he’d really wanted to. It was a conundrum. 

Liam’s not sure why Alex is on his mind today. He had decided long ago that attempting to maintain a friendship with Alex was not conducive to his sanity or from moving forward in a healthy relationship. He hasn’t spoken to him in over a year. Alex seemingly got the hint that Liam didn’t want to maintain contact and hadn’t even reached out via text in nearly that long. When they’d become serious, he’d told Spencer pieces of the story. The emotionally important parts anyways: that Liam and Alex has been best friends and Liam had crushed hard. He hadn’t told the rest until recently, when he’d been sure he could count on his absolute discretion. He certainly doesn’t want to be part of a tabloid story either. Spencer had been sympathetic, “crushing on your likely straight best friend” is practically a right of passage for queer people, but he’d also been kind of hilariously star struck, due to his fierce love of both President Claremont’s policies and her impeccable style. Spencer had commented on both when they had seen a re-election ad last night on TV. Maybe it was that ad that had put Alex back in his thoughts. 

Or, maybe it was some kind of premonition, he thinks as he watches his phone buzzing on the table, frozen in shock as he stares down at the caller ID wondering if he’s actually in some weird fucked up dream.

“Babe, your phone is ringing.” Spencer’s voice breaks through his reverie convincing Liam that this is in fact happening. 

Normally Liam wouldn’t be so rude as to answer his phone at the table, but he has no idea why Alex would be calling him after all this time. Liam is not hung up on him anymore. He loves Spencer, but there is still a weird pull to Alex that he wishes had disappeared completely. 

“I’m gonna grab this real quick, sorry. It’ll just be a minute...it’s just...I’ll explain later.” 

“Go for it.” Spencer replies, unbothered. He’s laid back about most things, and he isn’t like partners Liam’s had in the past who would leap to jealousy if they saw a call or text from another guy on his phone. It’s nice not to have to worry about that with Spencer. He is a little annoyed now that Alex is interrupting their date, but not enough not to answer the phone. For some reason he has to know why he’s calling. 

“Hello?” Liam drawls into the phone, doing his best not to sound too interested.

Alex clears his throat on the other end of the phone before stuttering, more hesitantly than Liam has ever heard him. “Uh, hey, Liam. It’s Alex.” 

Liam’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. “I know.” 

“How, um, how have you been?” 

Jesus Christ. They are not doing this. He does fiercely want to know why Alex is calling, but he does not have time for him to make awkward small talk for 20 minutes first. His food will get here at some point and he’s definitely not rude enough to stay long on the phone at a restaurant while on a date. Alex better cut to the damn chase or he’s hanging up the phone. 

“You wanna tell me why you’re really calling, Alex?” Liam catches Spencer’s eyes widen as he utters Alex’s name, but he doesn’t interrupt. 

“Oh.” Alex stutters again, and the nervousness is so out of character for him that Liam can’t imagine what’s got him twisted up like this. “This might sound weird. But, um. Back in high school, did we have, like, a thing? Did I miss that?”

Liam has the overwhelming urge to bang his head on the table repeatedly, but settles for just dropping it on the table once. Are they actually going to rehash this now? Four years later? 

It’s weird, he considered Alex might be closeted but he hadn’t considered full obliviousness. On the one hand it feels ridiculous, for a guy who talks LGBT policies frequently, who had an ex-girlfriend who identifies as “not straight”, who made out and got a hand job from his ex-best friend in high school, to just, not realize for four years that he wasn’t straight? Liam might’ve denied that there was anything gay about the fooling around they did in high school but he had ate least known he was full of shit. But on the other hand, it makes a weird kind of sense. Sometimes when Alex was really focused on something, it was like he had blinders on, and everything else disappeared. He wonders what the hell happened to break through the denial. It shouldn’t, but it kind of bothers Liam that he hadn’t managed to be the catalyst for whatever revelation is happening now. 

His slight annoyance at that seeps through in his tone as he bites out, “Are you seriously calling me right now to talk about this? I’m at lunch with my boyfriend.” He doesn’t know if Alex has heard through the grapevine that he came out or not. Liam’s not really on social media and he can’t think of who Alex hung out with from their high school that he’d have kept up with who would have told him. Oh well, he knows now. 

Alex’s contrite apology softens him a little. Enough to continue the conversation at least. Spencer’s done a remarkable job of not interrupting with the thousand questions he must have, and Liam takes pity on him and covers the phone with one hand to explain. “It’s Alex.” 

“Like Alex, Alex?” Spencer whispers, eyes burning with curiosity. “Your famous ex?” 

Liam rolls his eyes, he’d hardly call him an ex, but Spencer does like to tease him about it sometimes. “Yeah, him.” 

“Oh my god. I thought you hadn’t talked to him in forever? What does he want?” Liam’s grateful that Spencer is keeping his voice low. 

“I don’t know, babe.” 

Spencer gestures for him to get back to his phone call. “Well find out! I’m dying of curiosity over here!” 

Half of Liam is too, but the other half isn’t sure he wants to wade back into Alex’s dramatics when he worked so hard to escape them. But part of what had frustrated him and made it impossible for them to maintain a friendship was what he saw as Alex’s steadfast commitment to ignoring that they’d ever been more than friends, so maybe this is the conversation they need to have. But he’s gonna make Alex work for it a little. 

“What exactly are you asking me?” 

“I mean, like, we messed around, but did it, like, mean something?”

Liam again considers the merits of repeatedly banging his head on the table but settles for raking his fingers through the stubble under his jaw. It’s not like he’s never had a conversation like this. He volunteers at the LGBTQ community center that’s nearby his college and has talked a few questioning teenagers through their feelings, but Alex is an adult and Liam doesn’t have the emotional distance to be quite as patient as he usually is. He gives it a shot anyways, though. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you.” 

“Right,” Alex responds, sounding defeated. “You’re right.”

Liam takes pity on him. He’s obviously going through something and probably has few people he can talk to. Alex is dynamic and people gravitate towards him, but Liam noticed in high school that he rarely let anyone close. He never hears (or reads articles) about any enduring friendships outside of June and Nora, and, apparently long term friendship no one knew about until recently with the Prince of England. Liam is pretty that’s just PR stunt though, after that whole cake debacle, so he’s probably not confiding in Prince Henry either. 

Liam might be his only real option outside his sister and ex/best friend, so he’s willing to give Alex a few more minutes. Besides, maybe if he humors Alex a bit now, he’ll get back some of the karma points he lost when he nearly fell down laughing at the pictures of Alex lying on the floor amidst the ruined cake at the Royal Wedding. But it’s gonna have to be quick since he thinks  he sees their food finally coming out and he’s not delaying his meal or being any rider on his date than he’s already been. Alex has always responded best to bluntness anyways and if Alex really has been oblivious for all these years, a dose of reality is just what he needs. 

“Look, man. I don’t know what kind of sexual crisis you’re having right now, like, four years after it would have been useful, but well. I’m not saying what we did in high school makes you gay or bi or whatever, but I can tell you I’m gay, and that even though I acted like what we were doing wasn’t gay back then, it super was.” 

Liam sighs. He hadn’t necessarily meant for his slight annoyance at not being the catalyst for Alex’s bi awakening slip in, but oh well. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for Alex to understand a little bit about the frustrations Liam went through in high school and the years afterwards when Alex’s random texts would send his head spinning for days. Thankfully the food and drinks have arrived giving him a good reason to wrap up this conversation. 

“Does that help, Alex? My Bloody Mary is here and I need to talk to it about this phone call.” 

“Um, yeah,” Alex says. “I think so. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Liam sighs, relieved in some ways that they’ve brought a few things out in the open, but also that this conversation is over. He prepares to hang up the phone but before he can he hears Alex begin to speak again. 

“And, um. I’m sorry?” 

Liam can practically see the look on Alex’s face. It’s the one he always used to make when Liam was frustrated and annoyed with him and Alex wasn’t quite sure why. The look always made Liam cave just when he’d resolved to create some emotional distance between them in high school for his own sanity. Thank god they’ve had years of physical distance that actually let him move on. Still, the reminder of those days and those feelings of frustration bubble to the surface and he needs to be done with this call. He groans out an exasperated “Jesus Christ” and hangs up the phone before Alex can get another word in. 

Spencer, predictably, but wonderfully, looks both sympathetic and amused. Though it’s clear he’s dying to know about the other half of the conversation, he seems to know Liam needs a minute, so he just wordlessly pushes his Bloody Mary across the table, content to wait until Liam’s ready to share. Liam smiles at him, grateful for Spencer’s laid back energy and caring nature. He’s struck again by how lucky he feels to have come out the other side, to have made it through the confusion and angst of the coming out process, to be confident in who he is, and to have a healthy relationship like this one. He reaches out and covers Spencer’s hand with his own. “I love you, you know.” 

Spencer smiles indulgently. “I know. Now finish your Bloody Mary so you can tell me all about that deliciously dramatic phone call.” Liam squeezes Spencer’s hand, and does just that. 

#rwrb #rwrb fic #liam pov #for maura #not sure what this is #so sorry that i didn't really edit this

[arazialotis]

A Girl Called Mike - Part 2

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Word Count: About 3500

Summary: The reader disguises herself during hunting jobs as a man named Mike and has met up with the Winchesters several times. They are unaware of her true identity. Feeling they know and trust Mike, they agree to invite the reader to the bunker.

Click Here for Part 1

Warnings: Language, Violence

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Special thanks to @misguidedconqueress for the suggestions, feedback and for putting up with me! :)

----

“Listen, there’s something I feel like I should tell you.” You started and paused, the next words not coming out of your mouth. “This place is sick. You bring all the babes down here?” You raved, keeping up the demeanor.

“Not quite, only a few close friends know about it. We keep it pretty private.” Sam stated.

“Ah, too bad, I could totally see a pole right here.” You showed them between the war room and the library, kicking yourself mentally for taking it too far.

Dean hit Sam's shoulder with the back of his hand. “Not a bad idea.” He agreed with a chuckle.

“Respectfully so.” You cleared your throat. “So, uh, for the Vodnik, I can go through any of these books?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll help you out.” Sam responded.

“No, I don’t want to be a burden.” You said.

“It’s okay, he gets off on it.”  Dean rationalized.

“I’m sure there is something more important for you to be doing.” You started again.

“Other than looking for another case, not really.” Sam insisted.

“Well, while you two nerds continue your sleep over, I’m going to grab some grub.” Dean joked and left for the kitchen.

“So, you got a system in place here?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah, some chronologically, others geographically.” Sam explained.

“This thing seemed to have an accent. East European.” You hypothesized.

“Okay. That gives me an idea of where we could start.” Sam concluded, grabbing some books off the shelves and handing them to you.

Not soon after you had started flipping through the pages, Dean came out with burgers and beer that no diner or bar could ever come close too.

“Oh my god,” You said with your mouth full. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Dean soaked up the praise, but downplayed it instead of gloating. “Ah, it’s nothing, just ran over to Applebee’s.” “Yeah right, this is amazing.” Had your mouth not been full of food, they might have noticed the change in your tone. However, you did notice and quieted again.

A few more hours passed and Dean pulled up Game of Thrones on his laptop.

“You know, if you didn’t play so much poker, you could probably afford a big screen for this place.” You teased, having several times wiped the floor with Dean’s deck. An unexpected advantage about living a lie you thought.

“Hey, don’t get to confident now. That’s my strategy. Boost your confidence so I can take it all away.” Dean countered.

“Mike, check this out.” Sam interrupted. You leaned over the table to get a better look. “This Czech myth is a small creature with human and frog-like features. It dwells in ponds or rivers and drowns anyone who comes to their territory. Unlike the Vodyanoy, the Vodnik can survive a few hours on land and even will help fisherman for a pinch of tobacco. Salt water is said to be poisonous.” Sam roughly translated.

“Well, I didn’t use any salt water. But I did tie it up in a cabin for a while. Perhaps being out of water too long did it in?” You thought out loud.

“Could be.” Sam looked up at you and paused.

Your eyes widened; concerned your wig was crooked or facial hair was peeling, but Sam just stared into your eyes.

You slid back down into your chair. “Does it say anything else?” You coughed, trying to distract him as you felt your fake features hoping all was still in its place.

“Umm, yeah. It captures the souls of the drowned and… stores them in it’s underwater liar…. In… porcelain cups.’ Sam translated and grabbed the computer from Dean to make sure his interpretation was correct.

You sighed and rubbed your temples. “Looks like I am going for a dive.”

“Nah, how bad could an eternal tea party be?” Dean joked.

“Yeah, cups are what you’re looking for.” Sam confirmed having translated it again.

“Alrighty then.” You pushed your chair back and stood up. “Thanks for everything, I’m sure we’ll run into each other soon.”

Sam got up confused. “You’re leaving now? You can stay and rest before you head out.” He offered.

“I’ll be back, but I wouldn’t be able to rest knowing I have unfinished business.” You explained.

Sam gave you a firm shoulder hug, “Well, you are welcome any time. I mean it.” “And when I finally find somewhere to settle down like you old men, I’ll invite you over for a barbecue or something.” You envisioned.

Dean came up for a bro hug and patted you on the back. You were concerned you let your hand linger too long on the back of his shoulder. “Seriously, anytime. But we are sending you a bill.” He teased.

“Later.” You ended heading up the stairs.

Finally, out of sight from their bunker, your ripped off the wig and facial hair convinced it had been a longest period of time you had gone in character. Driving back into the town, you decided to go as yourself not wanting for locals to recognize you as you had made your rounds only a few weeks ago. Not to mention the disguise would not hold well underwater. You stopped at a bigger city before you hit the town in order to find a scuba suit, renting it out would cost all your poker winnings but you really couldn’t think of a better solution.

You lied to a group of fisherman about a lost wedding ring and in return they warned you about drownings and disappearances. You could hardly resist letting them know the issue had been taken care of but thanked them for the warning, and convinced them you were an experienced driver which was another lie. After hours of searching and going through a few oxygen tanks, you came across an old cabinet. You used your hunting knife to pry it open and bust the lock. Sure enough, inside were porcelain cups with lids on top. You lifted up the lid on one and out came a bubble containing a blue orb that floated towards the surface. You recalled the number of drownings you had traced and counted a few extra containers. There must have been unreported cases. You released all of them and the last few cups were empty. Satisfied, you returned to the surface and checked into a local motel to recuperate.

For a few hours, you allowed yourself to be pampered. You treated your hair, used perfume, shaved your legs, and even painted your toenails. You thought about going out for a drink, but decided not to on account of not wanting to deal with men like Dean. You sighed at the thought of him. How did a womanizing ass occupy all your thoughts and desires? Perhaps the thought of having the unattainable or wanting him to realize he was searching for something that only you could satisfy. Your thoughts turned darker, perhaps it was being with someone so experienced. Your thoughts wandered to imagining his lips pressed firmly against yours, his calloused hands holding your waist and guiding your hips.

You felt a heat start to rise up in you and quickly turned on the tv, trying to break the cycle of your thoughts. You hadn’t been intimate since before the night the demon… Well, that thought surely broke your desire. Flipping through the stations you paused briefly on The Big Bang Theroy but continued flipping once the commercial came on. You switched past a news channel, but then immediately backed up finding it again. The news anchor described a murder in which the victim was decapitated and body was mutilated. The police were not releasing any details but had a line open for tips.

The town was only two hours from here. You thought it might possibly be a hunter taking care of a vampire problem but you wanted more information. You pulled out your laptop to look further into the police system. Sam had taught you some basic hacking skills and with smaller towns you usually could find a way into their database. You were able to pull up the case file and were shocked by what you saw. A lot of information had been left out of the news clip. Yes, the victim had been decapitated but by simply saying mutilation they left out a good chunk of the details. The head of some type of bird of prey had been sewn? onto the neck of the victim. Had you not been used to gore you would have been sick. Well, there ain't no rest for the wicked, you thought knowing you would be heading there first thing in the morning.

Another day came and back as Mike you were. Yes, the process was long and somewhat annoying but it was much easier to get information, be treated seriously, and not looked down upon (in a figurative sense) in his skin. The only problem that came was you never fully looked right in a men's dress suit. If you wanted it tight and professional it would not hide your figure. Trying to go with a baggy suit just made you look like a child playing dress up in their father’s sports jacket. So you just usually went in casual wear which could make playing FBI difficult but it didn’t deter you.

When the coroner asked about it you responded. “New policy, dress for your day, not that it’s any of your business but I don’t need a cadaver soiling my Brooks Brothers.” You said with a confidence that wouldn’t be questioned.

The coroner pulled out the victim's body. He had already removed the bird's head but kept it in the same compartment.

“No ID?” You asked.

“Not yet,” The coroner confirmed. “Police are cross-checking missing persons report.”

“And no head? Human head, that is.” You continued to question.

“Nothing. I have been assured the crime scene and outlying perimeters have been thoroughly swept.”

“Other than the mutilation, anything stand out as weird?” You asked.

“Yes, the time of death and decapitation don’t add up, I reran my tests several times.” He said confused.

“What are you saying?” You inquired uneasily.

“The body was technically still alive while the bird's head was being sewn on.” He reported.

The doors opened and a familiar voice sounded Mike’s go to fake identity. “Agent Dallas.” You looked up seeing Dean enter the room and Sam following behind both in their suits. “Violating the dress code again I see.”

“Dry up.” You responded again in the confidence you earlier presented. “I outrank the both of you combined. Glad to see you finally decided to show up.” It had been a similar routine you had conjured whenever you ran into each other on a case unexpectedly.

“Our flight was delayed.” Sam explained. “Can you give us a moment?” Sam directed at the coroner.

“I’ll catch them up to speed.” You assured him as he left the room. “So what? You two just can’t get enough of me huh?” You teased.

“Don’t get so full of yourself Mike, just making sure you aren’t slacking on the job.” Dean playfully bantered back.

You coughed away a blush, your thoughts from last night resurfacing. You reminded yourself, this was just the way dudes talked to each other. This was not flirting or tension in Dean’s eyes. Sam started inspecting the report and body.

“So what are you thinking, witchcraft? Occult?” You asked Sam.

“It seems… almost.. Egyptian.” Sam hesitantly said. “Ancient Egyptian deities were hybrids of different animals, mainly human bodies with animal heads.”

“We had a run in with one awhile back.” Dean soberly remarked remembering their case with Osiris.

“Of course you did.” You rolled your eyes, almost annoyed they have literally hunted practically every supernatural thing in the book.

“But this doesn’t seem to be a god itself, it’s almost as if someone is trying to create one.” Sam theorized, unsure of himself.

“Back to my theory of cult or witchcraft.” You interjected.

“I still think we should get a ram’s horn just in case.” Dean suggested.

“Yeah, it couldn't hurt.” Sam agreed.

“On it.” Dean called dibs.

“I'll look into some texts, see what deity this could be, it may give us some more clues on who or what we are dealing with.” Sam purposed.

“And I'll sweep over the crime scene. Maybe something was missed.” You decided.

“Alright, meet back up for lunch?” Dean asked.

“Plan.” You decided and headed off.

The body had been discovered in an abandoned storage facility, but apparently it was a place for local junkies to hang out. It was placed next to a small river and you really hoped you wouldn’t have to go diving again to look for the missing head. The gates of the property had been marked with police tape but it was easy to sneak around it. The pavement was overgrown with grass and weeds. Most of the units were unlocked and open, some containing boxes of junk. You went to the office in the far corner where the body was actually found. It was locked and sealed with police tape. Luckily, you had brought cutters expecting this.

Inside, it was dark and musky from years of sitting. Police had cleared what they thought had been evidence and dusted for prints. You doubted if anything would come of it. The papers that had been left behind appeared only to be old bills, budget records, and policy updates.

You headed to the manager’s private office. The old wooden desk was where the body was found, you recognized the scene from the pictures online. There was dried blood, feathers and candle wax. Trying to find something that was missed, you looked through drawers but they had been cleared out. However, down on the base of the desk, it looked as if though someone had carved in hieroglyphs with a pocket knife. As you did not see these in the police report, you snapped a couple of pictures and forwarded them onto Sam. You also scrapped off a substance from one of the shelves into a plastic bag. It might be possible to send it to the county forensics department, but it was highly unlikely they would get back to you before you and the scooby gang had the problem taken care of.

You completed your sweep of the office and still came up headless. You figured you would check the remainder of the storage units and any dumpster that may still be lying around. Walking through the maze of units, you kept your hand close to your gun ready to draw at any moment needed having the suspicious feeling you were being watched. As you turned a corner, you nearly jumped out of your skin as you almost literally ran into Dean.

“Jesus man, give a guy a heads up.” You vented, catching your breath making sure your low tone was correct.

“Losing your touch? You would have caught me snooping around five minutes ago if you were on your game.” Dean poked fun at you.

“And what about you, Ram’s horn?” You asked skeptically.

“Not my first walk through a synagogue.” Dean gloated. “Thought you might need a hand?”

You caught Dean up to speed on what you had and had not found.

“There was a stuck locker around that block,” Dean pointed. “With your help we could pry it open.” He thought.

And he was right, with a hammer you were able to pry a crowbar underneath the door and get some leverage as Dean forced it up. After the dust settled, Dean took out a small flashlight to get a better look inside. Metal shelves were lined with jars containing fluids, unknown substances, organs, and animal parts.

“How did they miss this?” Dean asked confused referring to the police.

He stepped into the unit and tripped some unseen trap, you grabbed him quickly upon hearing the click and pulled him back out before a canvas fell from the ceiling revealing several snakes and a human skull. You hid in Dean’s chest from the fright.

He chuckled nervously. “Don’t like snakes, Indy?”

 You realized your mistake and regained your composure brushing your clothes as if to unwrinkle them. “You think that’s our vic?” You asked nodding in the direction of the skull.

“I’d say it’s a high probability.” Dean tested the waters by stepping closer.

A cobra out of the bunch noticed Dean’s advance and raised itself as it hissed and widened its hood, fixated on him.

“Dean,” You whispered. “Step back slowly.” You instructed as you slowly took off your outer jacket.

Dean listened as you took your jacket reaching it as far away from you as you possibly could. You shook the jacket up and down encouraging the cobra to fixate on it instead of Dean.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean whispered.

“I saw it on the crocodile hunter once.” You explained causing Dean to roll his eyes.

You continued shaking as the cobra was now spitting and striking at it. With it completely distracted you threw it as far as you could into the unit and the cobra chased after it. You motioned for Dean to slowly start backing up. Once a safe distance away you gathered your thoughts.

“I honestly can’t believe that worked.” You confessed breathless to Dean.

“You and me both.” He agreed. “Well gives us a place to go next, pet stores, the zoo.” He started.

“Yeah, no way that thing was from around here.” You concurred.

Dean felt comfortable enough to turn his back to the unit, where as you were still watching it as some of the snakes began to slither out. “And neither is that guy.” Dean responded. You turned around to see what appeared to be a man in an Egyptian robe and wearing a blue mask that sported a long snout and erect ears of some unidentifiable creature. “Unless I forgot it was Halloween again.” He said seriously.

“Always, with the jokes.” You whispered quietly to him as the figure watched you unmoving. “You don’t happen to have that horn on you?” “Nah.” Dean admitted.

“Alright, plan B it is.” You said lifting your gun and firing in its direction.

It calmly walked out of sight around the corner of the unit block. The both of you ran after it but came to an empty row of blocks. Dean signaled for you to start clearing the open units and to meet at the end as he headed the other direction. Your heart raced as it always did with a chase. You moved quickly through the units.

You stopped at one as the sun shone partially through it, highlighting the body of a falcon. The blood looked fresh, causing you to wonder if there was another victim here. Out of the corner the form took shape and struck you between the ribs with it’s blade. You were caught off guard; the pain not settling in yet, just the pressure.

“Mike!” Dean yelled, running to you.

The creature took notice of Dean and withdrew the blade, which is when the pain hit. You keeled over as Dean started shooting at the figure. It seemed to not notice raising the knife to strike a blow to the head. But one of Dean’s bullets finally found its mark. The beast looked down at it’s chest and vanished around the metal. The bullet drop to the floor with a clink.

You tried your best to stifle the scream coming up but couldn’t contain the pain. You sounded a low cry.

“Mike?” Dean asked trying to assess the situation.

You furrowed your brow and grunted, trying to find the focus to speak without ruining your disguise.

“Come on buddy, we got to get you outta here and patched up.” Dean instructed.

You pulled your hand away from the wound and saw it was covered in blood, a lot of blood. You put your hand back over it trying not to panic. “Ah fuck…” You hissed. “I’m… good, had worse.” You stuttered.

“Come on,” Dean encouraged. He wrapped his arm around your waist trying to hoist you up. You used your good arm to grab onto his shoulder to help him pull you up. “I’m not leaving you out here alone, just have to make it to the impala and I’ll patch you up.”

“Seriously, I’m okay….” You gasped for another breath. “I can do my own patch work.” Your brow started to sweat as the pain increased from the movements. He slowly helped you walk down the rows.

“Now’s not the time to be the brave soldier, Mike.” Dean ordered.

You started to panic with each step, and not just from the pain. If Dean got anywhere near this wound, there would be a least two things he would be bound to notice.

---

Click Here to Continue at Part 3

Tags:

@nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @akshi8278 @solvilein @myrabbitholetoneverland @seninjakitey @amazinntay @ipaintmelodies @trans-siberian-marching-band @deansgirl215 @fireflyloki28 @marianita195 @lizhart1701 @wantingtobekorra @tomlinsonlovers @5secsofsupernatural @amazingmackenzieisnotonfire @trinty33 @abbessolute @deanfuckingwinchesterrr @jotink78 @thebabeontheback @melissaj616 @hiya-supernatural​ @attractiverandomness @trexrambling​ @adaliamalfoy​

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #spnfandom

[smoothshift]

I have collected a few 'fast' cars over the years, and I don't know what to do. I'd appreciate advice. via /r/cars

I have collected a few 'fast' cars over the years, and I don't know what to do. I'd appreciate advice.

I'm looking to downsize and want to focus on one and make it a daily. I live states away from where 2 of the vehicles will be so it's become cumbersome to store cars. And without focusing on one, nothing ever gets finished. Which should it be?

2002 WRX: Has 170k miles runs like a champ and have about 3 grand in the car all in. extremely fun to drive

It has: a JDM EJ, FMIC, tein adjustable coilovers, protune with accessport, runs on E85, boost and AF gauges, race rims and low pros, cold air, downpipe, catless exhaust, and probably other shit im forgetting. Dynoed at 275 AWHP.

Needs: shifter bushings, minor electrical issues, maybe a turbo (sounds squealy but have yet to smoke test so it may be just a leak). Minor wreck in rear drivers side quarter.

1990 Mustang: I was told it should make about 350-400 at the wheels and i have god knows how much in it since it has been cobbled together over the past decade. 200k miles on the car. basically nothing but a few burnouts on the engine/trans. starts right up and runs great. unfortunately its auto, but I have a weird attachment to the car as it was my first car.

Has: bored over and rebuilt 302 with aggressive cam, 1.6 rockers, all new internals, cobra intake and everything else that goes with it. headers/xpipe nocats/ exhaust. thing sounds nasty. New ford racing trans but its been sitting for 7 or 8 years so who knows. 4.10 gears in the rearend. new upholstry.

Needs: floorpans rusted out, interior is essentially missing, brake booster, and paint if i wanted it to look decent. probably would never have AC. and incidentals from sitting for almost 10 years. might need a few other things to handle new power like a radiator and subframe stuff. tires.

1996 Chevy Impala SS: Has 165k miles. runs and drives great. I only have about $1000 all in.

Has: kind of a mystery. Owned this car for 3 years but its rarely driven. Cold air, shift kit, headers and catback.

Needs: springs which are easy, interior which is shot but i doubt id replace, paint looks awful as it was botched by previous owner, steering column.

Budget is around 3k and labor is nearly free. I like things looking shitty so absent rust and stuff i dont really mind paint or interiors being crazy. I can't part with the mustang but don't mind storing it indefinitely/until the rust takes it and i pull the motor and trans.

Which would be the coolest? Which should I make my daily?

Edit: don't know why it's numbering them all 1, and I apologize for any other formatting or grammatical errors. I've had a few drinks. I'm on vacation

#reddit #autonews #auto #cars

[arazialotis]

Pinch of Nutmeg - Part 2

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: 3400

Summary: The reader is a young and upcoming chef who takes up an opportunity in Vancouver where she by chance befriends Jensen.  Now, after several years and seeing each other at a convention, (Part One WC:6500) the reader and Jensen try and decide how they should move forward.

Obviously I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time.

Welp, I did it again. Again, this is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors.

-----

The dark streets of Chicago were bitter cold as you wandered barefoot through the concrete jungle. Your arms were wrapped around you tight to provide some warmth but more so to hold yourself together. All of your belongings were still at the hotel. The clutch with your money, ID and cell phone were still in Jensen’s room for all you knew and your shoes as well. On your way down the flights of stairs you did not think to stop at your room, your only thought was to escape. You needed fresh air and when you found it after breaking through the stairwell exit you began to aimlessly drift throughout the city in nothing but your lace cocktail dress.

Eventually the cold started to seep into your bones and the shadows on the street turned into fears of the unknown. You softly whimpered to yourself wanting anything but to return to the hotel. You would rather find a corner of an alley to hide in than return. Instinctively, you thought of Scott, knowing he would still be in the city. He mentioned he would be returning to Vancouver on Tuesday. Recalling the directions to his place seemed hopeless yet by a miracle you managed your way to his apartment.

By the time you reached his complex and pressed the intercom, your feet were filthy and blistered. You prayed he would answer at this ungodly hour and chimed again. As you waited, you leaned your head against the hard marble tracing the cracks with your finger. The intercom clicked signaling the camera had turned on.

“Hey Scott.” You mumbled against the wall.

“Y/N?” Scott confirmed as you stepped into view of the camera. “What’s going on?” He sounded worried. “Come on up.” He said as the door buzzed unlocked.

The elevator was much more appealing than the stairs, you didn’t know if your legs could carry you any further. You hesitated slightly before gently knocking on Scott’s door. He opened the door in a t-shirt and silk pajama bottoms, his wavy ginger hair still mussed from sleep. His eyes wandered up and down trying to piece together what on earth had happened.

“I’m so sorry to intrude at this hour…” you mustered your strength as your voice broke. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Anything for you, come on.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he led you in. “You’re freezing and a mess.” He said as he analyzed you further practically going into a state of shock when he noticed your feet. “Oh, Y/N.” He lifted you up cradling you in his arms. If you had more energy you would have protested.

He led you into the kitchen, sitting you down on the grand island where the sink was situated. He plugged the drain and started to run hot water. You sat there trying to figure out how you were going to explain yourself to him as he left for the other room. When he returned, he wrapped you in a sherpa wool blanket and added bath salts to the water. He gently guided your feet into the sink and tapped the water off.

You started to speak but he simply shushed you not quite satisfied with all the comfort necessities in order. After a kettle was on the stove, your hair in a messy bun, and a serving of scotch was in his hand there was a peaceful silence. You sighed just to recuperate.

Scott rightfully broke the silence. “You saw him, didn’t you?”

You nodded your head.

“At the convention or by chance?” He furthered.

“How did you know there was a convention in town?” You playfully teased him.

“He stopped by the restaurant two nights ago, asking about you. He occasionally does, usually in Vancouver.” Scott explained.

You huffed slightly. “What do you tell him?”

“That you're well, that we stay in touch, but your contact information is not for me to give.” He explained.

“I remember you telling me when I first left, I didn’t realize he still was coming around.” You pondered as Scott brought you warm chamomile with a slice of lemon.

“You're still in love with him?” He stated as a question.

“Yes…” you painfully admitted as Scott finished his scotch. “I bought a ticket to the convention, I didn’t know how else to reach him.”

“And then you got drunk and came here.” Scott concluded.

“And then I got drunk and kissed him and came here.” You confessed.

“Wait,” He poured himself another round of scotch. “What?”

“Well, he kissed me and I didn’t stop him… until I did and then ran out on him.” You sighed.

“What does this mean for you?” Scott asked trying to understand your thoughts.

“It means nothing, he's married and has a kid. I'm not going to interfere with that. I'm just going to go back home and do what I do best.”  You said determine.

“Smother your feelings until you've convinced yourself you're over him?” He bluntly questioned.

“Smothered in a cheese fondue doesn't sound all that bad.” You teased not breaking your serious composure.

“Or raclette, perhaps.” Scott teased back causing you to crack a smile. “Come on, off to bed. You can dream of cheese tonight and worry about him in the morning.”

You dried your feet still swollen and sore with a towel and Scott carried you off to his guest room.

----

Jared did a double take after he thought he had been run into by a wild fan but after you ran off down the stairwell the connection hit him almost as hard as you had. He started to head for the stairwell but realized you had run from Jensen’s room and went to check what happened with him. Analyzing the situation Jared was shocked to see a chair flipped over. He softly called for Jensen and found him in the bedroom sitting on the bed with his head buried in his hands.

“Dude, what’s going on?” Jared asked concerned “I just ran into Y/N, literally.”

Jensen didn’t move, just trying to process his thoughts. “Why does she keep running from me?” He barely whispered.

Jared crouched down to meet Jensen at eye level. “What happened?” He almost demanded.

Jensen wiped his face and stood up wanting to avoid Jared’s gaze and walked around the room.

“Do you know I have thought about her every day since she left? Tried to find her, with no help from that jackass Scott.” He explained frustrated.

Jared became increasingly confused. “I knew you had feelings for her back in the day, but you have Lana now.”

Jensen rolled his eyes at the mention of his wife’s name. They had met on the set of a movie where their characters were in love and Jensen took a step to try it in real life. When things started getting serious Jensen tried to back down but Lana was set on marriage. She begged him, told friends and families about false plans for the future. Jensen eventually fell into the idea.

But it was apparently clear only a few months into their marriage things were not going well. Lana accused him of being distant and unsupportive which was true to an extent. And she had been more than flirtatious with other men. Jensen worked hard on trying to resolve the issues. They tried counseling, he spent any time off with her, flying her out to every convention, and finally they agreed to have a child together hoping it would bring them closer but it only drove Lana farther away. Jensen was still committed to making it work, especially for their baby girl, Safiya. Well, that was the case until about two weeks ago.

He went to end table and pulled out a folder from the drawer and tossed it Jared’s way. “Lana served me with these a couple weeks ago.”

Jared removed the papers to find Lana had filed for divorce. “Oh, wow.” He said in shock knowing things had been bad but not to this extent.

“God, I tried so hard with her man, but I was never good enough.” Jensen ranted. “I’m going to sign them.”

“Don’t jump to this decision just because Y/N showed up today!” Jared demanded.

“And what? Just waste another three years of my life, chasing and begging Lana to work things out, but still ending up here?” Jensen argued. “No, I am going to end things with her and then go after what I’ve been missing.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “If Y/N doesn’t want to be found, you are not going to find her. You have been through this before.”

“I don’t expect you to understand.” Jensen ignored him walking into the other room. He grabbed your clutch and started looking for any signs that would point to your new life.

----

Your entire body protested to your waking, feeling dehydrated and your heart pounding in your head. You whimpered trying to lift your head but your body refused and automatically pulled another pillow over your head. A few minutes later you shot up trying to analyze your surroundings and replay last night's events. Flashbacks of you and Jensen locking lips with his hands hungrily grabbing your waist, walking the dreary streets, and ending up with Scott. Scott’s place, you were in his apartment, it finally clicked. He must have given you a change of clothes. You were in a white undershirt and gray sweatpants.

You slowly stood up, trying to contain your nausea. You slide into the kitchen your entire body aching with every motion, especially your feet.  You heard sizzling in the kitchen and the smell hit you like a ton a bricks. You ran to the bathroom and any alcohol that was left in your system quickly exited. There wasn’t much to clean up but you did what you could and washed you face and mouth. Deep breaths helped you muster your strength and you made it back out to the kitchen.

“Sorry, Y/N, I thought hash browns were your go to morning after cure.” He said cleaning up the breakfast and handing you a glass of water with alka seltzer instead.

“I don't think I've ever been this hungover” you mumbled.

“Well listen,” He said anxiously looking at his watch. “I have to run to the restaurant and get some projects finalized before I leave tomorrow. You are welcome to help you self to anything and stay as long as you need too.”

You got up ignoring your symptoms to give him a big hug. “Scott, you have always been too good to me. How can I repay you?”

“Nonsense,” he muttered as he counted some money from his wallet, “I fully expect you will work for me again and I'll dock it from your first paycheck.” He joked and handed you money for a cab.

“Yeah, in your dreams.” You rolled your eyes and hesitantly took the cash.

He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead. “Take care of yourself kid,” and he started to head out the door. “And call me when you make it back to that hodunk town of yours.”

You took your time in his quiet apartment, trying to think straight and make a plan forward. You need to go back to the hotel to get your items and your car so there was no avoiding that. But perhaps if you dawdled around, you would avoiding running into Jay. You took your time in a steaming shower which made you feel more lightheaded than relaxed. You dressed back into Scott's joggers and t-shirt and found a cub’s cap and aviators to disguise yourself as much as possible. You pulled your hair through the back of the cap into a messy bun, still wet from the shower.

You looked in the mirror and scoffed at the ridiculous length you were going to. He most likely would have already left. You also found some oversized sliders that would work for a quick trip back to the hotel. You fully intended to mail all the items back but knew Scott wouldn't miss them. He liked to live luxuriously.

The cab ride back to the hotel was as awkward as it could be for you. It obviously looked like the morning after but the cabbie was silent to your relief. He had probably seen his fair share of morning after girls and god knows what else.

Your heart pounded as you reached the hotel. You paid the fare and exited explaining you didn't have any bags for valet. Thankfully the staff had changed over and so wouldn't recognize you from your disgraceful entrance last night. The lobby seemed a blinding bright compared to the dark gray outside and it aggravated your headache so you slide the aviators back on. You stopped in your tracks when you saw him lounging in the chairs with Jared and their luggage. As much as you forced yourself you couldn't will yourself to move.

Your concentration quickly broke when you heard a soft high squeal and giggled whispers as a group of girls made their way over to them. Jensen was obviously lost in thought but put on a quick smile when the girls reached him. Jared seemed more talkative and charming than Jay as if something was distracting him. You used the opportunity to make your way to reception where they greeted you politely.

“Um, hi, yes… I was wondering if anyone had turned in a clutch and shoes to lost and found?” You nervously asked glancing back over to the boys direction.

“Hmm. Not that I recall. Let me go check the office quick a minute though.” The receptionist politely responded.

You used the opportunity to glance over your shoulder to try and catch another look of him. There were still some dwindling fans but it was clear they were trying to leave slowly inching their luggage away. Jensen looked tense. His eyes glanced your way and you immediately turned back around towards the desk your heart pounding. A few more minutes passed and you chanced a glance again. As they were finally exiting the hotel, you felt your heart being pulled with him, wanting to drop everything and run to him for a warming embrace. But your body wouldn’t move, you were frozen as luggage was loaded into a black Escalade and he got into the back seat.

“Ma’am.” The receptionist broke your concentration you rolled your eyes as you turned back around, hating being called ‘Ma’am.’ “We didn’t have anything in the back that met your description.”

“Okay, umm, can I get a replacement hotel key then?” You questioned.

“Of course, can I see your ID?” She chirped

“Well, I don’t have my ID as I lost my clutch and everything in it…” You tried to explain as patiently as possible.

“I think we can work something out. I’ll need a manager’s approval though.” She left to go find him as you rubbed your temples trying to keep you calm.

-----

Jensen hardly slept that night. He tossed and turned thinking of anyway to win you back. He thought back to the last time he saw you in Vancouver. He kicked himself for not chasing after you immediately. He never got a chance to tell you she was just a distraction. Back then, Jay had thought you had been infatuated with Scott by the way you talked about him, admired him and tried to impress him. It's why he never made a move on you, thinking he didn't even stand a chance.

And now, you had waltzed back into his life and confessed your love for him. He stuffed his head between the pillows looking for the release of sleep. Not to mention the countless other things he need to sort out especially with Lana. Should he feel guilty for leaving her, for not trying harder? He knew no matter what happened, it would be all over the press. His fans would support him no matter what, it's almost as if he could do no wrong in their eyes. And little Safiya, god, he didn't want her coming from a broken home but what other choice did he have? Lana didn't want to work things out and if he stayed refusing to sign, their home would be more broken than if he left.

Eventually he got a few hours in but they didn't last long. He woke up, his hair all disarrayed from tossing and turning. He wanted to see you, to explain everything. He put himself together in the best way he could for being groggy, jeans and a white t-shirt would have to do. He took your clutch and shoes and found his way to your room from the hotel key he had found snooping through your belongings you had left behind.

He knocked several times on the door with no response. Taking a chance, he used the key to enter but you were nowhere to be found. He told himself it was probably for the best, that he needed more time to process his thoughts. Hesitantly, he did not look through your items and simply left the clutch and shoes on the desk. He spent most of the morning in his room and only emerged when it was soon for them to head out and catch a flight.

He stayed close to Jared but remained fairly silent both not wanting to discuss what had happened last night. It was the squeal and giggles of a few girls that jolted him from his daze. He quickly put on a face of gratitude and appreciation, lightly discussing the show with them and signing pictures. Something caught his eye from across the lobby and he saw you. He laughed a bit at your lousy disguise but even if it were any better, he would recognize you anywhere. The feeling of joy and relief quickly left him when he realized you were in men’s clothes. His mind quickly jumped to Scott as he imagined the two of you spending the night together. His whole body tensed and his jaw clenched at the thought.

Jared nudged him with his elbow to redirect his attention to the fans. He politely thanked and hugged them. Jared showed him the time complaining about being late or something and then he noticed the black Escalade had rolled up. Jensen’s thoughts started to race looking your way, he wasn’t just going to leave you again. He started to head your way as Jared grabbed his arm setting him back.

“Don’t.” Jared practically ordered.

Jensen felt anger or panic flare up, but he knew Jared was right. Things needed to be sorted out with Lana and you obviously weren’t interested he thought. Jared practically had to pull Jensen to the Escalade. Jensen felt almost as if a piece of his heart had refused to move from the hotel lobby.

---

Well, you had successfully done it you tried to convince yourself. You had chanced to see Jensen again and reconnected with him to a certain extent. You could now move on with your life, you told yourself as you pulled your car onto the highway heading back home. Your mind flashed to the kiss you had shared.  You tried to convince yourself you had done the right thing. And even if he was slightly interested in you more than a quick hookup, he would have chased after you. This is for the best, you repeated to yourself over and over. Anxiety crept back up when you tried to imagine him dropping off your belongings to your room.

You turned on the radio to try and distract yourself. And it worked as you dealt with the busy city traffic but once you were out on the highway driving too fast with miles ahead of you, everything caught up to you as the radio DJ selected ‘Here I Go Again’ by Whitesnake. You felt the tears start to well up.

“No! I am not going to cry to some stupid outdated 80s song.” You commanded yourself out loud.

Your stubbornness demanded that you leave the station on almost as if you had made a bet with the DJ. But by the time the first verse had ended, tears had spilled over and ran down your cheeks as you left Chicago and him behind you.

-----

Click Here for Part 3

#jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural #spn #spnfandom #spn fanfic