#shctteredillusions

Drinking starters

A crooked grin stretched across his lips. Zale was always going on about how hot he was but fuck, he should look in the mirror. Pretty bastard. Gorgeous bastard. Unfairly hot bastard. Taking no heed to how precarious it was, Val slid from his seat to settle onto his boyfriend’s lap with no heed to the possibility that they might be walked in on. Both Alexa and Luna were out anyways, not that his drunken thoughts were even going that far to worry about them anyways. 

“You know, it’s strange. Thinking how it’s only been a few months since being on the run from this powerful entity of vampires and hiding out with that asshole, a former and yet still an asshole and Asame. It’s kind of weird to just be back to doing paperwork and compiling cases. It’s almost like a dream itself. Yeah, we were in danger and running from basically the vampire mafia but, strangely, it was fun.”

“What all I remember of it, at least,” Samir remarked, “It was a little touch and go with the whole sleep deprivation and lacking essence thing. It’s kind of how someone described a bender to me, going through that. Or being perpetually drunk. That sort of thing. Was not a fun thing to explain or show to my parents later but that’s...been dealt with.”

When he questioned her why she wanted to contact her ex, she would look at him sheepishly. It only now started to dawn on her now that she never had a boyfriend, it was only this much of a revelation because she was drunk. 

muse reaction meme || accepting

👏 : your muse hugging mine

     It came without warning. Barely a full exchange of words before gravity pulled at her smaller limbs close against him. His arms enveloping her close as though defending her from the world. Not a sound is uttered beyond her lips as the mind tries to catch up. Eyes wide in shock and confusion but ... she can’t bring herself to tear free. 

     Her heart is hammering against its cage. Every thud far louder than the last that she can only pray Sebastian does not notice. Silently, Bella is blaming the rising flush to the heat his body radiates. Maybe even the spring sun is at fault too. Yet, why do those butterflies tickle away at her abdomen when he stands near? What is this warmth that spreads through her veins as muscles suddenly fall at ease over his embrace? 

     ‘It’s probably customary’, she tells herself. Just another strange habit from his home. He wouldn’t ... have those sort of feelings for her. Excuse after excuse piles but that small voice in the back of her mind is mocking her. It is whispering the possibility of something else fueling such a physical representation of affection. It cruelly pulls at heartstrings she did not know to yearn for his hold but -- No, she couldn’t fixate on it. He was going to leave at some point and who knows if he would ever return. She barely even knew if there was someone waiting back there for him ... 

     “S-Sebastian ...” But dear god, she can’t bring herself to shove him back. She cannot even fight the softness in her voice as arms dare to rise to return the embrace. Face softly burying against his chest as the scent of his cologne wafts into her senses. Honestly, how foolish can she become? She is absolutely setting herself up for failure again ... 

Remind him again why he doesn’t bother with the bullshit of humanity.

       Perched atop streetlight and lightly swaying his feet through the air, he gazes down at those bustling beneath him -- the people, along with all their strings of fate, and the ever-present annoyance of a mirage of choices he can make. Boring.

       “And just what happens,” he hums low in his throat, reaching to take hold of one such string. “When I intervene?” Sparing himself the time of checking possibilities, he gives a rough yank to the poor soul’s fate, and a sigh escapes him whenever his action merely causes them trip in the air, sending their coffee flying across their brand new shirt. Unfortunate, sure, but averagely so.

            Another order, he spends most of his morning scrolling through applications and needs in order to fit it all into his schedule. Some are inherently denied, things that would be dangerous for the other party or if their contents were obviously salacious. The lion took business very seriously though he stalls on one application in particular. “Teacher..” Interesting. He pulls up the full application and idly looks it over. It’s a requirement to include a name, time of arrival needed, place of arrival, photo and age. He requires all this so he knows how to suit himself better. Age correlated into personality most of the time, looks so he could match up to the ideal aesthetic as well as find the appropriate person, and the rest was for obvious reasons. 

He hums as he looks it all over and comes to the conclusion that he’ll take this one up first when he reads the notes. Teach me how to flirt and be romantic. His first course of action was to get ready. She wanted a teacher, but she seemed pretty young so he doubted she’d wan’t a tutor who wore suits and ties. Slacks and a button up would do just as well, he thinks. Then its preparing course material, which takes all of a few minutes because that just meant bringing himself and his dialogue. He looked at the clock and noted the arranged time before heading out to meet at the designated point. A sharp toothed smile but no less warm and encouraging, a kind teacher persona equipped. Gold hues settle on her and he makes quick work of bowing politely and introducing himself.

|| Cruel Intentions || @shctteredillusions ||