#god chapters where barely anything happens except a character's realization about things can be hard ...

[eikichi-supremacy]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[emkay512]

Once Upon A Time

Chapter 3

Summary: This starts at the beginning of TRR book 2 with the Fydelia ball but with a different series of events. This AU is based off the show Once Upon a Time with Riley and Liam mirroring Snow and Charming. Characters belong to Pixelberry.

A/N: I felt like I needed to still post this, even though I’m terrified with living up to my own hype. Let me know what you guys think.

A/N 2: thank you for pre-reading @queenrileyrose and @sfb123 both of you have given me such encouragement and I really appreciate it!

Warnings: This will contain NSFW adult language and content. By reading, you acknowledge you are 18 and over.

I’m keeping the same tags from my earlier post, please let me know if you want to be removed, absolutely no hard feelings! If you’d like to be tagged, I would be happy to add you!

Tags: @burnsoslow @ao719 @kat-tia801 @callmeellabella @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @iluaaa @jared2612 @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @secretaryunpaid @ladyangel70 @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @shanzay44 @ofpixelsandscribbles

“Wait.... what!?” Drake’s face had gone white with shock. “But, we all saw! We all saw her fall in love with you. She loves you for sure Li, what the hell is going on!?” Despite his best efforts, Drake had come to accept Riley as an important person in his life, she was a truly trustworthy friend and she was a chance to see his best friend marry for love. Surely she’d never give up on hope and love, she was the epitome of both.

Liam wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he watched the latch on his bedroom door shut with Riley’s departure. He had dropped to his knees unable to stand with the weight of his broken heart still staring at the door trying to unsee what just happened. He was so sure of her love for him, he had never seen such happiness and sincerity exist in his life than when she told him she loved him in the hedge maze at his coronation ball. All this time he’d been apart from her was spent planning for a solution, clinging to the memory of her smile the last time he saw her before getting engaged.

Getting engaged. Then he started to think about the effect this had on her. He hated himself, she was vulnerable and abandoned, of course she’d fall out of love. Liam’s head was still foggy, but he remembered pouring two glasses of whiskey and calling Drake to meet him and briefly telling him what happened and now getting his reaction.

“You.. you don’t understand.” Liam was still just only choking out words. It was bad enough to live in this reality, but to have to utter the words and make someone else understand what was happening was like living his nightmare over again. “She said she did love me, or that maybe she did, or that she couldn’t love me anymore... God, it feels like it all happened so fast! I can barely get my head straight!” His tone was clearly crossing into frustration, he lifted both hands to his head and balled his fists into his hair while groaning out his hurt and anger. “This is my fucking fault.. in so many ways, Drake. She said I let too much time pass, that it convinced her that I should forget about her, and that she didn’t love me. I should have protected her from those goddamn photos and fucking Tariq. I never should have gotten engaged to Madeleine, and I shouldn’t have kept her away.” Liam was huffing his words.

This was difficult for Drake. He’d never seen his best friend so defeated like this. Liam always knew how to maintain his stoicism keeping an air of calm and rationalism. But that was not the man before him now, Liam was completely disheveled with eyes bright red from all his earlier sobbing, he looked completely broken. Drake understood the pain, he knew all too well how easy it was to fall for a girl like Riley, but like he said, their entire gang watched them fall head over heels for each other, and that was what he wanted for both of them.

Drake knew he needed to reel Liam back in, and once he could get the full picture, he’d know how to return Liam to his sharp tactical self. “Ok, ok, ok. I know your feelings are all mixed up, and judging by your overall behavior it looks like you hit the whiskey long before I got here, and I’m sorry, but I need you to get a grip and tell me everything.”

Liam nodded and sucked a breath in recalling everything. How she walked in his room, how he thought he was protecting her, how she said he didn’t want to know who was responsible, how she noticed the missing lock on the door, and how she walked out. Drake felt like he hadn’t blinked once after hearing everything and he could see it seemed these obvious clues hadn’t dawned on Liam. “Li, it sounds like she gave you like a dozen red flags. You didn’t press on any of those strange things she said and did?”

Liam wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “I.. all my instinctual strategies were out the window. I couldn’t focus on anything at fucking all except the sound of being dumped. There’s no tactical training on having your heart smashed since this bloody institution snuffs out the idea of love from day one. I feel like my mother was the only exception, and look what happened to her.”

Drake sighed and pinched the top of his nose with closed eyes. He himself was having a hard time comprehending things, he couldn’t imagine Liam’s anguish. “Look. First of all. This is not your fucking fault. There is clearly something large at play here, and you and Brooks seem to be the center. I think... I think Brooks knows something. She’s a smart girl and I think she was leaving you clues.” Liam could feel the gears moving in his mind as Drake went on. “It’s odd that she just walked in through the door.. how would she have just walked through the halls undetected? Weren’t you expecting her on the balcony? Which, by the way... wild expectation, bro. Shouldn’t Romeo be beckoning Juliette on the balcony, not the other way around?” Liam side eyed him hard, yes they’re best friends, but really? Was now the time to bust his balls? Drake couldn’t help himself and continued, “When you told her you wanted to find out who was responsible for the tabloid photos, why did she try to convince you to stop? It would be one thing if she just wanted to end things, but why mention that you wouldn’t want to know who it was? To me, these suggest that she either knows or has an idea who the culprit is. Then, the smoking gun. Another lock-less door and her freely walking out again.”

Liam shot up, determined and clear headed. “You’re right. I won’t play victim to this scheme and I sure as hell won’t let her be one either. Ok. We need to get a hold of Maxwell, either she’ll talk to him, or we can have him check on her without any suspicion.”

“Then I’ll call him so it can’t be immediately traced to you.” Drake pulled out his phone and clicked Maxwell’s name putting the line on speaker.

“Yo, Drakester! What’s up? Hate to break it to you, but the party’s over, you missed it.”

Already annoyed, Drake responded, “Cut the crap, Beaumont. We got a problem, Riley is gone, have you seen her? You need to check her room, but for the love of god, do it quietly.”

“What the hell are you talking about, I just left her, she was on her way to see Liam. Drake, please don’t tell me you’re cock blocking the king.”

Drake and Liam had no time for Maxwell’s carefree antics, they were both on strategy mode. Hearing this, Liam spoke first, “Ok so we know she was always on her way to see me with the intention of actually being with me. Something happened between her leaving Maxwell and her walking into my room.”

Maxwell was completely shocked to hear Liam’s voice on the line and started to panic that what Drake had said might be true, “Liam!? So she’s really gone? Last I saw her was getting her outside, as she was on her way to your balcony..”

She does love me. Was Liam’s immediate thought when Maxwell said she was on her way to his balcony.

As Maxwell recounted his interactions, Drake and Liam ignored any of his inquiries and focused on each other, working out the information they were getting.

“So she had to have been intercepted..” Liam realized. “Someone TOOK her!”

“Guys...” Maxwell was still being ignored on the line

“...And convinced her to say those things to you. Blackmail. It’s the only explanation.” Drake was finishing out the same conclusion Liam was getting to.

“Guys!!” Maxwell screamed and got their attention. “I made it to her room, we’re too late, it’s been ransacked. She’s on the run. What. Happened?”

Drake filled him in with strict instruction to keep this a secret, they would have to investigate quietly to prevent getting caught. He disconnected the call and looked at Liam, “Ok, she’s MIA, which only supports the theory of blackmail. If she was making a voluntary move back home, she would have said goodbye. We just need to find out where she went.”

Liam squared his shoulders and steeled his expression, now knowing he was on a rescue mission, “I’ll find her, I will always find her.”

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 25

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: Revenge is a dish best served cold, as long as poison is not in the equation. Art is by @lunaescribe​ and @swanpit​​

***

“What in God’s name did he put in that wine?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know! You spoke with him, he must have told you--”

“Lower your voice!” Héctor hissed, and he had the audacity to smack a hand over his mouth. “He only told me not to drink the wine, and to tell you not to either. That’s all I know!”

Gustavo scowled, and slapped off his hand. “Ugh, whatever. I don’t care.” He grabbed the reins of his horse, and turned to the other men who’d been taken from Santa Cecilia. They all looked varying degrees of terrified and confused all rolled into one and there sure would be a lot of questions concerning ‘Padre’ Ernesto that Héctor had better give answers to, but at the moment - in the midst of absolute chaos, with about half the soldiers collapsed, another good chunk not looking to great themselves and those not looking pale as death trying to help their comrades in any way they could - they had other priorities.

The main of which was getting out of there.

“Everyone get a horse, we’ll make a run for it. Doubt they’ll notice, let alone give chase. Help is coming, but getting out of the way would be wise,” he said, and sure enough, all men got on top of a horse. Except one, of course.

One idiot who tried to turn and run on foot in the opposite direction, toward the grove where the commander had dragged the man Gustavo had believed their parish priest. Before he could go far, however, Gustavo grabbed his arm. God, it was like trying to look after a child who wanted to find out the hard way why one shouldn’t get into the pen of an angry bull. 

“Chorizo, that everyone includes yo--”

“I can’t leave him behind,” Héctor cut him off. He turned back to him with a look that was somehow both defiant and apologetic, but that most of all made Gustavo want to kick his teeth in. As in, made him want him to kick his teeth in more than usual. “I have to help him.”

“You don’t have to do anything, he was a Federale and--”

“He came to help us!” he snapped. That was not something Gustavo could argue against, which somehow made him ever angrier at the bastard who’d managed to fool him for months on end. So much for just being an eccentric young priest. 

“He’s probably already dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

A groan. “If you want to go and try, be my guest. But you’ll do it on your own, you hear me?” he said. Héctor drew in a deep breath, and with a stronger pull managed to get his arm free. 

“If I don’t make it back--”

“You couldn’t shoot your own foot if you tried, of course you won’t make it--”

“Tell Imelda I love her.”

Jesus Christ. Gustavo slapped a hand on his forehead and groaned again, wishing really hard he was exactly the cabrón everyone claimed he was so he could just shrug, wish him good luck, and ride off to safety with the others. Unfortunately, he was only approximately seventy percent the cabrón everyone thought he was. In the end, he turned to the others.

“Ride back the way we came, fast. Don’t turn back. If you meet men on the way, tell them what is happening.”

“But we don’t know what is--”

“Federales drank a bad batch of wine, tummies hurt, come take them out,” Gustavo snapped, and smacked the rump of Francisco’s horse. It took off, and the others followed. As expected a few yells rose up for them to stop, drowned out in the cries of terror of men writhing in pain on the ground; a shot rang out, hitting no one. Gustavo turned with a scowl.

“Fine. Let’s go save the imposter before I kill you for this,” he grumbled, and when the idiota smiled at him with that stupid golden tooth he had to really fight the urge to knock it out.

***

“I told you I’d make sure everyone would know exactly what you are, didn’t I?”

De la Cruz didn’t reply, but that didn’t matter. His cries before he seemingly ran out of voice had been better music to his ears than any of his singing back when they were in the same battalion; the wheezing sound he made now, as his bloodied chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, was more of enough for him. 

Santiago smiled, and finally stood to admire his handiwork. Blood was everywhere on de la Cruz’s chest; the letters he’d carved on his skin didn’t show as clearly as he would have liked and the traitor’s eyes were falling shut as he tethered on the edge of unconsciousness, but that was nothing a good splash of water wouldn’t fix. Santiago took a bottle from the saddle of his horse, and threw water across de la Cruz’s face and chest. 

“Ah…!”

He recoiled and seemed to choke on it a moment, pulled back onto awareness; much of the blood washed out, and the letters showed stark and clear for a few moments before more blood welled up. But even as it began dripping into the dirt again, the word remained clearly visible and that was all that mattered.

JUDAS

“Now you can never hide again,” Santiago sneered, knowing full well Ernesto de la Cruz would not live to see the sun set that day, let alone get a chance to try hiding. But it was a soothing thought, knowing that anyone walking by his hanging body would get to read the reason why right there on his chest. 

“I have sinned, he said, for I have betrayed innocent blood,” Santiago quoted, cleaning the blade of his knife before he put it back at his belt. A long time since he’d even stepped in a church, he still remembered much of the scriptures. “So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.” 

A pause, and his lips twisted in something resembling a smile. He could taste something bitter at the back of his throat. “Maybe even Judas was above you, after all. You never regretted a thing, did you? You would have never ended your own pathetic life. You had to be dragged out of hiding, kicking and screaming, to be given the punishment you know you deserve.”

De la Cruz groaned and tried to move, or maybe to speak, but in the end all he could do was turn his head to the side and heave, skin clammy and ashen gray, hair sticking to his forehead. Some bile spewed forth into the dirt, and it seemed to take the last of his strength; even when Santiago kicked his side, he barely reacted. 

“What is it? No more begging?” Santiago taunted, and crouched down to put the noose around his neck. There was a weak attempt at shifting away, easily ignored. He tightened the noose, glanced up to make sure the rope went over a branch solid enough to hold his weight, and stood. “No more crying? No more--”

“Uuugh…!”

The sound of someone else groaning and then throwing up caused Santiago to trail off, and he rolled his eyes. Was a little blood enough to make the delicate damsels he was leading grow faint? 

“If you can’t handle this, I suggest you--” Santiago began, turning, but paused when he realized it wasn’t just one of the three men with him at the grove who looked sick.

All of them were pale, one still heaving, the other two clearly struggling to maintain composure. The one who’d just tied up the end of the hanging rope to the horse was holding onto the saddle with one hand and doubling over, holding onto his stomach; another staggered as though drunk, and leaned against a tree before slumping to the ground.

“What are you-- Rojas! Stand up, damn you!”

“Commander, I… I…” he tried to speak, but his voice broke and he doubled over, both hands over his stomach. A few meters away, again came the harsh sound of retching. When Santiago turned again, blood running cold, all three men were either on the ground or kneeling over. Something was wrong, he realized, horribly wrong. 

“What the-- what’s happening!” He demanded to know, walking up to one of them. The wind picked up and as though to answer more sounds reached him, beyond the grove, back on the path where he’d left the rest of his men. There were yells, the whinnying of scared horses, a noise that sounded horribly like a grown man wailing.

“You damned us!” Rojas choked out at his feet, eyes squeezed shut and terror in every word. “You shot a priest and God punished us!”

For just a moment, Santiago believed it. He stepped back, an unknown terror seizing his heart, mind full of the tales of divine punishment he’d heard as a boy, of plagues and fire and brimstone. Everything around him seemed to go still and cold, as though the blistering hot sun above the grove had ceased giving warmth. 

“In God’s name,” the gringo had cried out. “For your own soul, if not for their lives!”

And he’d shot him. He had taken out his pistol and shot him, and now… now…!

Rojas writhed on the ground, and something spurted from his mouth. Santiago was terror-stricken enough to think it was blood at first, that his men were dying as they spat out their own blood - but by then, he had seen too many men bleed out for the illusion to last long. After a few moments he realized what Rojas was spewing forth was not blood at all. It was… it was...

Wine.

He saw it now, with the mind’s eye, the scene he’d come across earlier: his men standing around a fake priest, all of them drinking from casks of wine. Red wine. Mass wine. 

Blood of the covenant. This damn bastard. 

With a cry of fury, Santiago turned his back to Rojas and stormed back to where Ernesto de la Cruz lay, chest bleeding and arms tied behind his back, noose still around his neck… and features twisted in a grin that confirmed all of Santiago’s suspicions. He crouched by him, pulling him up by his hair and shaking him savagely. 

“You! What did you put in that wine!” he screamed. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!”

De la Cruz’s eyes found his own, and the despicable grin widened. His chest shuddered while he let out a sound that was hardly recognizable as a laugh, or any sort of sound a human being should be able to make. “Whatever… it took,” he gasped out, and he had the audacity to laugh again. “Todo modo... para buscar... la voluntad divina.”

“I’LL GIVE YOU DIVINE WILL!” 

With another cry of anger, Santiago slammed the traitor back down against the ground and went to the horse. The raspy laughter still rang out, mocking him, but he would silence it and he’d silence it now. Santiago grabbed the horse’s reins, and pulled hard to get it to move. The beast moved, the rope grew taut, and Ernesto de la Cruz’s laugh was finally silenced. 

In the distance shots rang out, but Santiago Hernández was beyond caring for anything other than the choking noises that now left Alberto’s murderer.

Let them die. Let us all die, as long as I take him down with me. 

He stopped the horse, turned, and watched with a widening smile as Ernesto de la Cruz writhed and choked, hanging by his neck a few feet above the ground. His eyes bulged, his face quickly growing red while he kicked uselessly and strained against his bounds in a doomed struggle for survival. It was horrifying, a slow and painful death. It was perfect. 

I told you I’d avenge you, Beto, Santiago thought, and stood there to watch, faintly wishing he had something to drink as he enjoyed revenge which had been served very, very cold.

***

“Hold the horses, something is-- stop! Everyone, stop!”

Imelda pulled back the reins, causing her horse - who had probably not run so much since the day her father had absolutely forbidden the twins to ride him - to skid to a halt, nearly bumping into José’s horse right ahead. A few paces ahead one of the women, the one who'd allowed Imelda to join, had stopped with a hand held up. 

“Luciana, what is--” José began, only to be silenced by a wave of her hand. 

“Listen.”

They did listen, and after a few moments Imelda heard it over her own rushing blood - distant cries and, coming closer, the beating of horse hooves. Someone was coming. 

What’s going on?

As one, the men and women around her pulled up their rifles and pistols and took aim towards the bend on the road ahead. Imelda did the same, grip tight on the pistol and holding onto the reins with her other hand. Sweat dripped down her brow, into her eyes. The cries remained distant, but the sound of galloping horses drew closer. 

Then several horses come over the bend at breakneck speed, ridden by men in uniform. The first man to appear saw them and cried out, pulling hard on the reins and causing the horse to rear up on its hind legs. The cap fell off his head, Imelda caught a glimpse of his face, and the finger on the trigger went slack. 

The baker.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!” Imelda cried out, lowering the pistol and kicking the flanks of her horse, coming in front of José and Luciana. “I know them! They were taken from Santa Cecilia!”

As José blinked, more horses came into view and skidded to a halt. Voices rose up, frantic. 

“Don’t shoot!”

“We’re not enemies!”

“We got away!”

“Gustavo sent us this--”

“It’s hell back there--”

José lifted an arm to get his comrades to lower their rifles, and Imelda quickly scanned the group. She recognized all of them, they were from Santa Cecilia all right, all twenty-eight of them. Two, however, were missing: Gustavo… and Héctor. 

Fear gripping her heart, Imelda opened her mouth to speak - but José spoke first, kicking his horse’s flanks to get closer to the terrified men. “What-- all right, all right, one at a time. Gustavo sent you? Where is he? What happened?”

“Padre Ernesto-- I mean, we think he’s a Padre--”

“-- not so sure anymore--”

“-- came over with wine, offered it to all soldiers--”

“-- told us not to drink and we didn’t--”

“Did any of you listen to me when I said to speak one at a time?” José lamented, and most of them fell quiet. Only one spoke again.

“Now they’re all sick - if not all, most of them - I think some have died, I am not sure. It was chaos, the screams… It was like the plagues. I think-- I think Padre Ernesto poisoned them.”

“... A priest poisoned them?” José turned back to look at Imelda, baffled. “First you, and now… what is going on with the clergy in your village?”

Ah, that was going to be… a long story to tell. Imelda opted to cut it short, for now. “Ernesto must have gone after them with the holy wine - he clearly did something with it. Francisco-- Francisco, look at me. Where’s Héctor?”

The young man looked back at her, pale as ash. He was a couple of years older than her, and yet looked so much younger now. “He… he and Gustavo stayed behind, he wanted to help Padre-- I mean-- Ernesto. The commander, he was hellbent on seeing him dead. He recognized him, and took him away to hang him. He-- wait, was it him he was looking for in Santa Cecilia?”

Something clenched in the pit of Imelda’s stomach; once again, the knowledge she may have avoided all this by speaking out and handing them Ernesto wouldn’t leave her mind. It was a sense of guilt she would have to deal with, but later. Now, she had to get to Héctor.

And maybe also save that other idiot who thought he could take on Federales with sweet words and poisoned wine. 

But he was not entirely wrong. The men are ill. Vulnerable. We have an advantage now.

When Imelda looked up to meet Luciana’s gaze, she could tell she’d come to the same conclusion. “... We will discuss this later. Their advantage was in numbers and now that they’re sick, it’s gone. We can take them head-on,” she said, and turned to the still shaken men. “How far are they?”

“No more than three miles. Just down the path at the bottom of the hill, they stopped in the middle.”

“A stupid place to stop. Any guards at the back?”

“No. It’s chaos, that’s how we got away.”

“Very well. You can go home. If any of you feel able to join us in this, do so. But lose the jacket, we wouldn’t want to shoot you down by mistake.”

As several of them did tear off the jacket, ready to follow them back, Luciana turned to Imelda again. “That’s your novio still there, right?”

“... Sí.”

“Then focus on finding him. We’ll take on anyone who fights back and find Gustavo. The idiota still owes me money,” she added, and kicked the horse’s flanks. “Onward!”

The group galloped forward once again, ten more men added to its ranks. Imelda spurred the horse, and this time she found herself galloping by José’s side. He turned to look at her as they rode on.

“Hey, do we get an invite to your wedding? I’ll invite you to mine!” he yelled. Despite everything, Imelda found it in herself to laugh. It helped to think of it, that there would be a wedding, and guests to entertain. She would bring Héctor home, and they would have all that, and a lifetime to either celebrate or regret it, tales to tell their children. 

She smiled. “You’ll all be guests of honor.”

***

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I absolutely do mean that.”

Héctor decided not to carry on the whispered argument, and they kept moving slowly through the grove, low behind shrubs, following the sound of groans. The hands holding the rifle were sweaty, which didn’t work miracles on his already shaky grip. He let go with one hand to wipe it against his jacket, and almost dropped the rifle altogether when he heard a scream.

“I’LL GIVE YOU DIVINE WILL!”

Gustavo recoiled as well, rifle raised as he tried, without much success, to look like he was all that good with firearms. Héctor may have even found it funny - maybe we’ll be the ones to shoot Ernesto in the ass after all - if not for the noises that followed moments later, nowhere as loud as the scream but bone-chilling all the same. 

The unmistakable noise of someone being choked.

They’re hanging him. They’re doing it. 

“They wouldn’t give me a quick death,” he had told him once, and he had been right. It was horrifying but maybe, if he made it on time, it was a blessing in disguise. He could stop it. 

Héctor ignored Gustavo’s whisper to wait and just began running, holding tightly onto the rifle, following the increasingly weak sounds of a man whose consciousness was fading fast. His heart pounded, and he prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

Please don’t die. Hang in ther-- agh, I mean-- hold on. Don’t die. Please.

The choking noises had almost died down by the time he finally reached the clearing, Gustavo having fallen behind. Ernesto was there, hanging from the tree and convulsing in his death throes. Blood dripped from his bare chest, but that wasn’t the most horrifying thing; what would never leave Héctor’s nightmares was his purplish face, the way his mouth opened as he strained for air, the bloodshot eyes. 

Dimly, Héctor was aware of the presence of the commander standing by and watching, of three other men groaning in pain on the ground, but none of it registered. All he knew was that Ernesto had seconds left to live if he didn’t act immediately, and so he did. 

Héctor lifted the rifle, took aim for the branch Ernesto was hanging from, and pulled the trigger.

***

“Drop the weapons or drop dead!”

“Never!”

“Bad call.” Luciana’s reply was followed by a bang, and the man who’d tried to stand up and lift his rifle did, as a matter of fact, drop dead. As did several other men who tried to draw weapons, taken by surprise by their arrival as they tried to tend to their ill comrades. 

Imelda hadn’t been so naive to imagine epic battles with fair play, of course. Often vastly outgunned, revolutionaries couldn’t afford the luxury of being chivalrous; even so, had those men not terrorized her village only hours earlier and taken Héctor - and tried to take her brother, and Miguel - she may have felt some measure of guilt for the attack, which struck them as they were mostly defenseless. Francisco had been right: it was chaos there.

But she was there for Héctor, and it made overlooking the death around them so very easy. 

“There is no mercy in war,” Ernesto had said. “They die or you do. Until you forget you’re looking at humans.”

She didn’t quite understand, then. She did now, in the midst of a battle, ears full of screams and gunshots and galloping horses raising clouds of dust. If the idiot was still alive, she’d have to tell him as much - that he’d been right. Annoying, that.

More shots were fired as the men still able to stand and hold a rifle left their wounded and ill comrades on the ground and began to retreat towards a rocky formation, clearly aiming to hide behind it and keep shooting. Imelda slowed her horse before it stepped on the body of a groaning soldier, heard a bullet whizzing right past her head, and looked ahead to see a soldier lifting his rifle, aiming it at José as he rode to intercept some men before they could recover ammunition from a cart. Imelda didn’t stop to think: she lifted Ernesto’s pistol, her pistol now, and fired, the kickback violent enough to hurt her shoulder.

She had aimed for the head, truth be told, and the bullet hit the man’s calf, but it was enough to make him drop his rifle and fall to the ground, so she counted it as a success. She looked around, scanning every man in uniform she saw for a sign of Héctor, but he wasn’t anywhere within sight. Where had he gone? He had stayed to help Ernesto, so… where was Ernesto?

The commander, he was hellbent on seeing him dead. Took him away to hang him.

And to hang someone… well. You need a tree. Imelda turned; right by there was a smaller path, leading to a grove of trees. And just as she turned, a gunshot rang out in the distance.

A flock of frightened birds took flight against the setting sun, and she knew where to go.

***

BANG

As the kickback caused Héctor to stumble back, the noise ringing in his ears, his mind registered two things. 

The first was that he’d entirely missed the branch he had aimed for; the second was that he must have hit the rope instead in a stroke of sheer blind luck which he would forever pass off as skill, because the rope was severed and Ernesto’s twitching body fell heavily to the ground. 

The third was that he was in deep shit, because Commander Hernández immediately turned to see him and he was much, much better than him at using a gun - not that it took much. That, and he was even more unhinged than ever before. 

“YOU!” 

Mierda.

Héctor ducked behind a tree just on time before a shot rang out, taking out bits of bark inches away from his head. The horse let out a loud frightened neigh and galloped away, dragging the severed rope with it. That would have been an excellent moment to run, but Ernesto was still there, unconscious, and--

“I should have known you were harboring this traitor! Once I’m done with you both I’ll burn your village to the ground!”

Héctor clenched his jaw, and dared glance around the tree, ready to duck back. The commander was turning, rifle up, aiming it at Ernesto’s still form. Even now, knowing an armed man was on him, he was hellbent on killing Ernesto like it was a more important goal than his own survival. 

Oh no you don’t.

Héctor lifted his rifle again, braced himself, and fired another shot. It missed Hernández entirely because of course it did, but it seemed enough to make him rethink the strategy of pointing his firearm at an unconscious man rather than on a much more pressing threat. He fired back, but Héctor was already hidden behind another tree and he heard him cursing before he also took cover. 

Maybe Héctor wouldn’t be able to hit him, let alone incapacitate him, but at least he could keep him in a stand-off and away from Ernesto until help came. And by help he meant Gustavo. God, where was he? How far behind had he fallen while Héctor ran on… much longer legs? He couldn’t be that far. If only he could hold Hernández’s attention long eno--

BANG

Another shot rang out, much too close, sending bark flying off the tree right next to the one Héctor was crouched behind. All right, so Commander Hérnandez had a fairly good idea of where he was hidden. Time to move and make some more noise while he was at it, just to keep him busy. 

Héctor drew in a deep breath and darted behind another tree, shooting blindly in the process. Two shots were fired back, and a bullet hit the ground just inches from where he’d been standing a second earlier, but he managed to get cover unscathed, heart beating wildly in his throat. He gripped the rifle tightly, drenched in sweat, and crawled behind some shrubbery. 

He looked over at the clearing through the branches, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hernández, but he could only see three unconscious soldiers… and Ernesto, still motionless on the ground where he’d fallen.

No good, no good, he could shoot him any moment--

And he tried, sure enough. Something that had looked like a branch moved from behind a tree, and it was once again pointed at Ernesto. Héctor lifted his rifle, heart hammering in his chest, and shot again. The bullet hit the tree instead of the barrel of the rifle, but it was enough to make the man recoil and lower his weapon. With a cry, Héctor pulled the trigger again.

CLICK

Ah. Mierda.

As Héctor fumbled to grab the spare bullets, Commander Hernández made a horrible sound that may have, with some imagination, passed off as laughter. 

“Oh, out of bullets, are we? Didn’t make sure it was fully loaded, did we?” he called out, his voice more unhinged with each word, and he stepped into view, rifle up and aimed at Ernesto. Well, that was it. No time to wait for Gustavo any longer. 

With no other choice, Héctor did the only thing he could think of doing: he ran out of his hiding spot screaming like a man possessed, brandishing the rifle like a club, and brought it down with all his might.

“You bast--!” Santiago Hernández moved at the last second and the blow did not land on his arm as intended, but it did hit the barrel of his own rifle; when the shot rang out - how many times has he shot, how many has he left? - the bullet hit the dirt, several feet away from Ernesto’s head. Héctor let out a cry of victory, feeling elated for just one moment.

Then the butt of the rifle hit him in the face, and he fell back on the ground. Blood filled his mouth along with something small and hard - the golden tooth, dislodged by the blow - and Héctor’s vision swam. The commander stood above him. He’d shoot him, he knew, any second now he’d point the rifle at him and pull the trigger and--

BANG

“Agh!”

“This will teach you to run off like that, idiot! Should have let him shoot your stupid head off!”

Gustavo’s voice was rarely a welcomed sound to Héctor’s ears, but it sure was now - even sweeter than the cry of pain that left Hernández, and that of his rifle falling to the ground. As he grabbed that rifle and forced himself to stand again, pointing it at the soldier’s crumpled form, Héctor couldn’t help but think his voice had sounded almost angelic, really. Not that he planned on telling him as much. 

As it turned out, he would never get the chance to either way.

***

Gunshots and cries were a clear indication that not all was well in the grove, but what really told Imelda she was heading in the right direction was seeing a terrified horse bursting out of it, dragging a severed rope behind it. 

The commander, he was hellbent on seeing him dead. Took him away to hang him.

Maybe she wasn’t too late after all, but if the shots were anything to go by she didn’t have much time either. Imelda gripped the pistol more tightly and spurred the horse into going faster, down the path and into the grove, trampling bushes and pressing forward amidst trees, heart beating somewhere in her throat. 

It was not the most discreet way for her to go into whatever awaited, and it made her a much easier and obvious target - she was well aware of that - but there was no time to waste. Too much was at stake; Héctor’s life, their future. She couldn’t afford to be too late. 

More shots rang out and then another sound came, carried by the wind - the most unhinged laughter Imelda had ever heard in her life. It made the hair on her arms stand, but what truly made her blood run cold was the cry that followed. Héctor’s cry. 

As another gunshot tore through the air, Imelda spurred her horse into a full gallop, heading straight ahead and ready to trample everything on her path.

Whatever it takes, was all she could think, and the grip on Ernesto’s pistol tightened.

“You know, I could kiss you.”

“Do me a favor and never say that again. I would like to keep my lunch down.” Gustavo snorted, rifle still pointed at the groaning man on the ground. He was curled forward, blood seeping through his sleeve. “Don’t move if you want to live,” Gustavo added, and tilted his head to his left. “Go check if the fake priest over there is still breathing. You and him both have a lot of explaining to do, you know.”

Héctor didn’t need to be told twice. He rushed to Ernesto’s side, put down the rifle, and went to shake his shoulder. 

“Ernesto-- amigo, you hear me? It’s all right, it’s over, come on…” He turned him on his back, horrified by the mess of blood on his chest but relieved to see it rise and fall in shallow, wheezing breaths; the noose had loosened, but not quite enough. Héctor loosened it the rest of the way, and pulled it over his head before resting it back on the ground. God, it had been a close call, but now… now he got him. He would be all right. “There-- better, no? Breathe, come on. Just keep breathing. We’ll get you help. Just hang-- I mean, hold on--”

“Mier--”

BANG

Héctor turned, heart leaping in his throat, just on time to see Gustavo being falling back, the rifle falling from his hands. He opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound left him; he watched, petrified, as commander Hernandéz stood - his wounded arm hanging limply at his side, and holding a pistol in his other hand.

The pistol, oh God, how did we forget he had one--

The second he turned the pistol on them Héctor knew that trying to grab the rifle would doom both him and Ernesto. Instead he lifted his arms, shielding Ernesto with his body. “Please,” he managed. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Ah, but I do.” The man bared his teeth in a smile that looked so much more like a snarl. “That man is a murderer, and I promised Alberto he would be avenged. Get out of the way, and I may even let you take your other friend to safety.”

Behind him, Gustavo groaned. He tried to lift himself on his elbows, but immediately fell back in the dirt. “Liar,” he gasped out, voice full of venom. Hernández barely glanced over at him, then looked back at Héctor, who hadn’t moved. He didn’t think he could move even if he wanted to, frozen on the spot between predator and prey. Deaf to everything but Ernesto’s laboured breathing and his own thundering heart, he failed to hear something else - a quickly approaching horse. 

Hernández didn’t look up, either. “A poor choice,” he scoffed, and Héctor closed his eyes. 

I’m so sorry, Imelda. Miguel--!

For the final time that day a gunshot tore through the air, echoing into Héctor’s head. He kept his eyes shut and waited to feel the pain, wondering how bad it would be, how hot it would burn and for how long. And he waited. And waited.

And still there was nothing. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes to meet the gaze of Commander Santiago Hernández. He staggered back and stared at him, eyes widened as if wondering how come they had both come to be there. He let the pistol drop, all strength gone from his hand, and looked down. 

Across his chest blood was seeping through the uniform, spreading fast. He opened his mouth, tried to speak - but a gurgle was all he managed before his eyes rolled back and he fell heavily, dead before his body even hit the ground. 

“... I had aimed for the groin.”

Héctor turned slowly. Behind him - above him, atop a horse - was Imelda. Her head uncovered, her robes gone, a pistol in hand. A vision from Heaven, and for a moment he wondered if he was dead after all. He smiled breathlessly. That sure was a lovely way to be welcomed in the afterlife. “Te amo,” he told her. 

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled back. “I sure hope you do. I hear that helps in a marriage.”

“So-- will you marry me?”

“Of course I will.”

A short distance away Gustavo managed to make a noise that sounded a lot like ‘bleagh’, and it was enough to snap Héctor’s mind back to reality. He lifted his head, alarmed. “Gustavo! Imelda, he needs--”

“I’ll check on him. You make sure the other idiot doesn’t die.” Imelda climbed off the horse, practical as always now that the moment had passed. She ran past the commander’s corpse straight at Gustavo, and Héctor focused on Ernesto again. He still breathed, and that… that was good, surely. It had to be good, he told himself, brushing some hair off his forehead.

Imelda, however, did not have good news. Héctor could tell as much the moment she called out for him, her voice somber. He turned to see she was cupping the back of Gustavo’s head; he was ashen pale, eyes rolling back, blood all over the front of his uniform.

And despite everything, he still spoke. “If you let-- Chicharrón bury me, I swear to God-- he’ll do a shit job just to spite me.”

Imelda looked down at him, something akin to a small smile on her lips. “You need not worry. Chicharrón hasn’t actually dug a grave in years.”

“Heh. I-- knew it. The cabrón-- should have got him-- fired,” Gustavo gasped, and dropped his head against her hand again with a groan. Imelda turned to Héctor. 

“The final rites,” she said. “He needs it now.”

Oh. A weight in his stomach, Héctor left Ernesto to rest and stood. It felt surreal, like it couldn’t possibly be happening and he was watching an event from someone else’s life through a foggy glass. “I… I don’t think I can. I am not priest, I--”

“You are the closest that there is to one right now. It will have to do.”

She was right: as soon as Héctor approached he could tell that the wound to Gustavo’s stomach was devastating, and he was fading fast. Too fast. He wouldn’t live long enough to see a real priest. They had never been friends, quite the contrary, but something clenched painfully in Héctor’s chest as he approached. He’d never wanted such a thing to happen.

He knelt by the dying man, trying to ignore a bizarre urge to apologize if the attempt at befriending him as kids had hit a nerve, if he had done or said something wrong, if he had never tried to extend the olive branch again. All along, he’d been their link to the revolutionaries, and now he’d saved his life too. He deserved better than dying in the dirt. 

“There is no mercy in war,” Ernesto had said. “They die or you do.”

But he could extend mercy now, at least; without even anointing oil, it was all he had to give. So he rested a hand on Gustavo’s forehead, and began murmuring the prayers required. With a rattling breath, Gustavo opened his eyes and looked up at him. 

“Now you’re… really trying… to piss me off, Chorizo,” he managed, and it took the last of his strength. His head fell back again, his gaze grew dull, and his chest rose in yet another breath before stilling, just as Héctor whispered the last amen. 

It was over. Héctor let out a long breath, feeling entirely emptied out. Imelda laid a hand on his shoulder, a warm and welcome weight. He reached up to cover it with his own.

“... Maybe we’ll tell others he had something slightly better to say as his last words,” he said. 

She squeezed his shoulder, closing Gustavo’s eyes with her other hand. “Yes. Let’s do that,” she agreed. They knelt a few more moments before standing, and tending to the living.

Away from the grove, the battle was over.

***

“What in God’s name is this mess!”

Well, that was not an encouraging thing to hear, but then again doctor Sanchéz wasn’t new to outbursts, and it wasn’t every day he had two severely wounded men carried at his doorstep. The gringo had been at death’s door - still was, lying unconscious only a few feet away - and Ernesto was in no better shape. 

Sofía’s eyes wandered over the congealed blood, the deep cuts on his chest, the dark bruise around his neck, the ashen color of his skin, his utter stillness as he remained unconscious. She remained outwardly calm, but something within her trembled. 

Idiota. What have you done?

Of course, at that point she knew the answer; word travelled fast as soon as the first few men returned galloping into the village. Between that and the fact Chicharrón had confirmed their stock of rat poison had disappeared along with the wine, Sofía knew exactly what he had done. She may have admired the sheer guts of it, and the fact it had helped win the battle, if not for the detail it had turned out so horribly wrong for him.

That, and even if he pulled through the game was up and the village knew, or at least guessed, he was no priest at all. Coming up for a convincing explanation was going to be a bitch and a half, but she’d think about it later. One problem at a time. 

“... Well, doctor, surely there must be something you can do,” she said, and Sanchéz groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“I’ll clean the wounds, stitch the worst and wrap them up,” he muttered. “But he lost a lot of blood and Hell knows for how long he was left hanging by the neck. There is nothing I can do about that. Either he wakes up or he doesn’t. If you ask me, he doesn't have many more chances than the gringo does.” 

“We’ll be praying for them. We already lost a member of our parish today,” Sofía said quietly. 

Sanchéz would have normally snorted at such a comment, but this time he sighed. He looked tired, too, and gestured for his assistant to bring over the alcohol and a small basin of warm water. “... I’ll do what I can. You may want to come up with some sort of story to tell, if not the village, at least outsiders. In case anyone comes asking. And we’re going to need at least one real priest alive, for Gustavo’s funeral.”

“Our… friends know one who will come over from San Luz to do it. No questions asked.”

“... That’s good. You may go, sister. We’ll try our best here.”

Sofía nodded and, with one last glance at Ernesto - try to pull through, you idiot, you and the stupid gringo both because God knows you deserve each other - she took her leave, stepping out of Sanchéz’s home and into the street. The bell was once again ringing to a death knell, announcing the death of their parish's sexton. 

Just as she stepped past the threshold, with doctor Sanchéz’s attention entirely on Ernesto, Father John Johnsons shifted imperceptibly and almost, almost opened his eyes.

***

“Padre Raúl will be here within a couple of days for the funeral - three at most, I swear. Us too, it’s the least we could do.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to stay for a few nights?”

Grabbing the reins of his horse, José smiled. “Tempting, but we have all those Federales to keep an eye on. They’re still writhing about, but they’ll live. Whatever was in that wine couldn’t be nearly enough to kill so many men.” 

Héctor swallowed before speaking, thinking back of Alejandro, of other men who so clearly were not in the army by their own free will. “... What will you do with them?”

“They’ll get a chance to join us. A lot of them do - Gabriel was one.” José shrugged, and grabbed the reins of his horse. They were standing in the churchyard, Imelda holding tightly on Héctor’s hand. “If not, well. We have someplace where they can be locked up for a time. Between us, I got word from the north and I think Huerta’s days are numbered. Once he falls, the Federal Army itself is sure to follo--”

“HÉCTOR! IMELDA!”

A loud, wonderfully familiar voice cut José off, and Héctor turned just on time to catch Miguel in his arms. He was a shrimp of a kid, but he almost knocked him over. “Hola, chamaco. How--”

“Why did you do it!” Miguel cried out, face pressed against his stomach. His shoulders shook, and he began sobbing. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…!”

“Miguel…” Héctor began, not quite knowing what to say next. In the end he needed say nothing at all: Imelda crouched down to hold onto Miguel as well and he clung back, a hand grasping her blouse.

They kept holding onto one another for a very, very long time.

***

[Back]

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[adhdeancas]

Dean Winchester (and the script leaks last night) possessed me to write this.

Dean happens upon Chuck's latest book: Carry On. Except it ends differently than it really went, and the ending? It's really fucking bad.

tw: suicide mention, transphobia (quickly shut the fuck down) 

Dean doesn’t make a habit of going to bookstores. Not because he hates books, contrary to what Sam might think; he just prefers to buy used books. There’s something comforting about a book that has already been worn and read over and over, that already shows how much the previous owner loved it. Plus, y’know, big corporations are evil and all that. And Dean only allows himself to overlook that when his stomach or his wallet wins over his hatred of the shitty mass-produced products. 

This time it was Jack who won; he’s obsessed with this new fantasy series and the new book just came out, so there’s no way he can hunt it down on Ebay. He makes his way to the fantasy and sci-fi section, eyes roaming over the displays of new releases, and his eye catches on something that turns his blood cold. 

“Supernatural: Carry On, The Final Book of the Winchesters’ Epic Journey” takes up a whole table, the generic and overly serious cover jeering out at him. 

He storms over to the display, anger covering up for the way his body feels light as a feather and like lead all at once, and picks up a book. “Why is Sam always fucking shirtless?” he mutters, the only thought that allows itself from the mess inside his head to his mouth. 

“Book sales.” A voice behind him says. He turns to see a teenager with their arms crossed over their work polo, pierced lip fixed into a customer-unfriendly frown.

“People want to see that?”

They snort, a small grin turning up the corner of their lips. It reminds Dean of Cas. “No. But that’s what advertisers think all ‘women’ want,” They use air quotes. 

He raises an eyebrow and asks. “Women?”

They shrug and uncross their arms, leaning back against the display table behind them. Their nametag says Jadyn. “Supernatural’s biggest block of readers is queer. I’d go out on a limb and say a lot of those the marketers think of as ‘women’ aren’t, or if they are, they aren’t itching to see Sam’s six pack.” Jadyn smirks. 

Dean takes a second to digest that, then grins down at the book, thinking past Sam’s apparently badly-received nudity now. “So how’d they like it?” he asks, waving the book a bit and looking up at Jadyn. Apparently they know a lot about the fans of the books, and for once, he’s proud of the way the story ended. 

Jadyn’s face sets into all hard lines. “Most people fucking hated it.” they say bluntly, then, probably remembering that he’s a customer, correct. “Sorry. I mean, it got some good reviews, mostly from people who like Wincest, but beyond that, it had some problematic plot points.”

Dean winces at the reminder of the ship between him and his brother, then scrunches his whole face together in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” Why would Wincest fans like it? What was problematic about their end?

Jadyn shifts from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna spoil anything for you-”

“I don’t care about spoilers, just give me the short version.” Dean says quickly. A quiet panic is rising in him, and suddenly he has a horrible feeling that he’s not holding the truth in his hands anymore. 

“Uh, okay… Well, the most obvious thing is the bury-your-gays thing, then there’s the fact that it completely contradicted the rest of the lore. And it was ableist, misogynistic, and messed up, like, every character’s arc.” they take a breath, clearly worked up by it. “Even if they changed any of the details too, it was all built on Dean’s death, and that’s just bullshit. Sorry.” they apologize again, apparently mistaking Dean’s stricken expression to be in reaction to their rant and swearing. 

“No, nah, you’re… you’re okay. Uh, thanks.” he waves a hand and wanders away from them, only remembering Jack’s book when he’s almost to the register. He manages to make his way back and find the damn thing, but he’s still in a fog when he gets to the register. 

“Did anyone help you in the store today?”

“Huh?” he looks up and meets the middle-aged cashier’s gaze for the first time. Brent, from the nametag, looks at him impatiently. “Oh, yeah, uh… Jadyn. Jadyn helped me.” Brent scoffs and starts typing with a shake of the head. “Uh, is there a problem?” Dean asks, a little annoyed at this cashier’s unnecessary attitude. He usually doesn’t care if an employee’s rude, because they have to deal with assholes all the time and honestly Dean isn’t much better, but this one gives him a bad feeling. 

“No, no, sorry. It’s just - “Jadyn’s” got this idea that he’s a girl. Makes everybody call him that name now too. Just-” Brent shakes his head. “I mean, you get it. Their generation, everybody wants to be special.”

Dean glares. “No, I don’t get it, Brent.” He says through gritted teeth. “Seems to me like Jadyn probably deals with enough assholes like you that her asking for a little basic decency is the exact opposite of special. Sounds pretty normal, actually.” He can see the fear creep into Brent’s eyes, and he knows the cashier is reacting to the murderous look in his eyes more than his actual words. 

Brent hands Dean his bag of books with a quiet, “Here you go.”

Dean snatches it away. “Oh, Brent?” he checks over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone and then leans across the counter into Brent’s space. “You should find a new job, one where you don’t have to interact with other people. At least until you learn how to stop being a piece of shit.” He starts to ease away but thinks better about it. “And if you think that’s a suggestion, it’s not. My husband likes this book coming out next month that I’ll need to buy, and if I see you here when I come, well… it would be really embarrassing for you to tell all your little friends that you got your ass beat by a ‘special’ guy, huh?” He pats Brent on the cheek condescendingly and leaves with a huff. 

Damn transphobes. 

He only remembers the book once he’s back in Baby, and he takes the time to drive out of town before he pulls over to read it. It’s an old abandoned church, the cross long since fallen from the roof and the doors hanging off their hinges. He sits on the steps just because being in Baby seems claustrophobic for once in his life, and going back to the bunker to look at this is just… not happening.

Dean only skims the beginning to see that it starts the same. The ground erupting with bodies, hell spitting out its most-conveniently placed nasties, Rowena sacrificing herself, Cas leaving. His throat closes up at that, at Chuck’s description of Cas’s heartbroken expression as he climbs the stairs of the bunker. He clears his throat and skips to the end, right past Cas’s death that he doesn’t have the time to think about right now, past them defeating Chuck and then stops. He goes back a few pages, trying to find the disconnect. 

The story’s different.

After Jack takes on God’s power, in the book, he’s totally fine. Not almost vibrating out of his skin or anything, not crying like the three year old he is because he’s scared. Not like it really happened. He just smiles and leaves him and Sam, and they let him go. 

Dean scoffs, skimming over the story as it just gets more ridiculous. 

In the book, he doesn’t even try to save Cas. They barely even mention him. And they never mention Eileen, either. In fact, Dean notes disbelievingly, practically the only characters in the last few chapters are him and Sam. They’re hunting again.

“What, is Chuck trying to keep the series going?” he whispers to himself, anger flaring through him. They let Chuck live, and he decided to write obnoxious fanfiction about them? He’s gonna kill that shameless little fucker. For real, this time. He deserves it.

In the book, Sam and Dean torture some vampire mime, and they enjoy it. Dean cringes; this is really what Chuck thinks of them. Then they tussle with more vamps in a barn and- 

Dean’s brain stops working. He rereads the scene again and again. 

“There’s something in my… something in my back. It feels like it’s right through me.” 

Dean Winchester dies in a dirty barn, on a piece of freaking rebar. 

More than that, Dean realizes on his fourth read-through. This Dean? He tried to drag out his speech, Dean can tell by the way he pauses for fucking drama. He would never do that. He would never talk to Sam for fifteen hellish minutes when he could be trying. Trying to live, so he can actually get his life back on track, get his family back. No, he made that speech stalling. He made that speech so Sam wouldn’t try to save him. 

“You gotta admit, I had one helluva ride.” He was strangely calm.

Chuck made him kill himself.

Dean reads the rest of the book through blurry eyes, reading an ambiguous and nothing-ending, one where he’s somehow happy to be dead and driving around in heaven alone while Sam raises a kid into hunting and cries about Dean decades after he’s died. Eileen isn’t mentioned. Cas is mentioned once, and Bizzarro-Dean doesn’t even think about seeing him, apparently. The whole book ends with a hug between him and Sam, both dead. Both alone. 

Dean rips the ending up. He tears through the stupid paper covering and keeps ripping the pages up until they’re the size of confetti. His lower lip wobbles. He throws the whole thing against the side of the building, and it tumbles through the broken doorway and drops into a pile of dust and dirt. “That isn’t the fucking ending.” he grounds out, knocking his hand against the flimsy handrail. It gives a little under his fist and he kicks at it. “That isn’t the fucking ending!”

He’s having a panic attack. Again. He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re gulping, too big, they’re making him panic more. He scrambles back to Baby and grabs his phone, presses the first number on his favorites list and waits for him to answer on speaker phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam sounds like he’s been laughing. There are voices in the background, and Dean tries to convince himself one of them is Eileen. 

“Hey Sammy.” he chokes out, trying to sound normal. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and then the sounds in the background. “Nah, Rowena’s just over.” he says casually. 

“So those voices in the background were-”

“Rowena and Eileen, yeah. They’re trying to convince me we need to go to Mexico. For the beaches.” A smile in his voice. Dean lets out a sigh of relief.  What’s up, Dean? You need something?” The smile drops, and Sam’s worried. 

Sam’s okay. Sam’s okay. “No, nah. Hey, you heard from Donna lately?” Dean just needs to triple-check.

“Uh, no, not since Sunday dinner… Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah, she just- she hasn’t been answering my texts. Just wanted to make sure.” Dean lies quickly. His breathing is still uneven, but his body is settling into uneven shakes. 

Sam sounds skeptical. “Yeah, well, she did tell us it’s been pretty busy at work lately. Y’know, everybody going out for the first time with COVID, getting stupid. Plus, y’know, nowhere’s drowning in EMTs right now.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean takes a deep breath, a distant memory of Donna talking about that coming back to him.

“Pretty sure you were setting up a D&D session with Charlie while she was talking about that,” Sam laughs. Dean knows he means it as a subtle jab, but there’s too much relief flooding through him to care. Still, a string is pulled taut in him, and Sam can’t fix that completely.

“Gotta go, Sam,” Dean hangs up before Sam can say anything else, and goes to his next contact. It rings for far too long, and Dean’s heartbeat picks back up to thundering.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes out. “Cas, you know I love you, right?” He needs to test all the bounds of this, to make sure, just to make sure. Make sure Chuck isn’t still fucking with him. Because apparently, Chuck won’t let him be queer. Not in his story. Not out loud.

He can hear Cas’s eyebrow raise through the phone, and his chest is overcome with stupid fondness. “I would be a little worried if you didn’t.”

Dean grins widely. “Like, romantically. I’m in love with you. Because you’re the love of my life and I’m bisexual.” He says it all like it’s a checklist, like he expects some cosmic being to slap a hand over his mouth before he gets each next phrase out.

“Yes, Dean. We’ve been married almost two months.” Cas is smiling. It happens everytime he talks about their wedding. Dean adores it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, now it is.” His whole body relaxes, still vibrating with leftover panic, but satisfied. “I got Jack’s book.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so pleased.” Cas pauses. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean eases off the ground and sends a last look at the dilapidated church before climbing into Baby. “Just- read a bad book. I’ll tell you about it later. When I get home.”

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 8

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~24.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

-

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

------

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

------

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

------

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[jiikyu]

Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love. Though be warned for they are also poisonous. Chapter V. It’s becoming painfully clear you find comfort in the wrong things. Like the smell of the ocean. A smile that’s far too blinding. In the way calloused hands always seem to find their way back to you. Despite everything — Can you really be blamed for falling? ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ All characters are 18+ Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ) Y/N = Your Name F/N = Your Full Name E/C = Eye Color H/C = Hair Color Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions / Angst / Possessiveness / Manipulation / Breaking & Entering, tho we don’t really elaborate on it this chapter? First Chapter Here❦ Previous Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter In Progress... Taglist. @missyredbean @yandere-romanticism

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ You’re fading or — At least that’s what you’re starting to suspect. Time seemingly has escaped you. Who knows how much time has passed with you holding of the bathrooms door handle. The metal resting loosely against your skin is now warm from the shared contact and it’s beyond disappointing because — It’s the farthest you’ve been able to will yourself. Motionless you find yourself stuck at standstill. You hate it. You hate the invisible thing stopping you from opening the door, like you would have if it were any other day. It’s not the dry clothes that stick uncomfortably to your skin or the wet droplets coldly clinging to you. Something familiar yet foreign. Settled in the pit of your being, it claws and begs you not to abandon the shelter these thin walls provide. You know what’s taken hold of you and god, does that make it so much worse. You just want it gone. But, how do you kill fear? There is no reason for your hands to be clammy or for the hairs on the back of your neck to stand raised. All you’re doing is making the situation worse, for yourself and — For Mirio. He’s probably worried. Plus, it’s not like you can stay locked away forever. Right? Only when you’re able finally gulp down the passing mania and turn the handle do you realize that you’re alone. Light pours from behind you, spilling into the empty hall. Your E/C eyes take a moment to adjust but it’s clear that Mirio is nowhere in sight. How long had it been? The stillness is broken by the familiar ding of your microwave from the kitchen. “Just in time Y/N!” And just like that the shame eating away at you disappears as quickly as it appeared, lulled into submission by the voice calling out to you. It should probably frighten you. How fast your troubles seem to melt away with the sound of his voice. Leaving the bathroom you forget the jacket still hanging from the tubs edge. Your footsteps are muffled by the carpet underneath, it’s then that you notice the sweet scent dusting the air. You follow the faintest hints of sugar and — milk? Rounding the corner you spot the familiar silhouette standing under fluorescent white light. And it’s hard to miss just how comfortable he appears to be in your kitchen. The jug of milk has been removed from the fridge, garnished with paper towels littering the back counter and a lone spoon sitting forgotten... Oh and one of the cupboard doors has been left hanging wide open. You’re really not sure what he’s done to cause such chaos. The last thing you notice are the two steaming cups, filled to the brim. It’s so faint but, you swear it smells like honey — “Sweetheart I don’t know how you do it!” And suddenly all the thoughts buzzing around your head just stop. A total short-circuit. He just called you Sweetheart. And the bastard doesn’t even bat an eyelash, he just lets it slip past his teeth without any repercussions. Though, if you’re being honest — You’re not even sure Mirio realizes he’s said it. It’s fine, really, it’s not that big of a deal. There are plenty of people around the world that use nicknames. Something as simple as a title of endearment shouldn’t have your heart doing backflips and cartwheels. But it does. You’re absolutely screwed. “There’s barely enough room in here for one person!” His words have you more than a little confused. To demonstrate what exactly he means he lifts his arms in the air. From one hand to the other he practically touches the walls that represent the beginning and end of the kitchen. “See, it’s no good!” Huh. You suppose Mirio’s right in some sense of the word. But it’s him that makes the space feel small. “Well...” You can’t help but chuckle between words at the man T posing in your kitchen. “I guess for you it might be a bit much.” “Nah I think I’m onto something. You’ll just have to move in with me!” It’s hard to tell sometimes when Mirios joking because he always wears a wide grin. But there’s no way it’s a serious offer. Maybe your missing the point, but you don’t see the problem at hand. Sure your dorm might not be as uh — spacious — as the ones meant for rising star heros. But you’re nothing if not appreciative, the space had came with all the basic necessities and for that you couldn’t be more grateful. You’re lucky enough to even have the opportunity of sleeping under the roof of your dream school. “Now you’re pushing it.” Your tone is lighthearted. “My place isn’t that bad.” Though your smile brings warmth to his little heart the moment is soured. He cannot help but stare at the puffiness just under your eyes, from where tears had fallen and stained. A reminder that has the blond to biting into the meat of his cheek. Mirio would be lying if he said felt comfortable with your living situation. It’s far too small — Let alone for the both of you. But most importantly, he couldn’t help but notice the lack of heavy bolts on the front door. He doesn’t like it one bit. Maybe it’s just the itch of anxiety from what happened but he’d much rather see you someplace safer. Somewhere you weren’t forced to be alone, preferably someplace he could stay by your side. Like his dorm. “What’d you make?” Freed from his thoughts it takes Mirio a second to process the question, his eyes follow your stare — The two cups cooling on the counter, the steam vanishing as it rises. He’d almost forgotten! “Oh! It’s honey milk.” Suddenly one of the cups is pushed across the smooth counter surface, till it sits within your reach. “My dad used to make it for me when I was a kid, usually when I was upset or had a bad day.” His smiles softens when he ends with. “I thought you might like it.” What he can’t tell you is that he made it in desperation. A distraction from what he’d done. “Thank you.” Blue eyes watch your fingers wrap around the heated smooth surface of the ceramic. “Really, it means a lot.” He can’t help but stare as your lips part to take the first sip. “Anything for you.” Those words are your wake up call. You’d got caught up in his antics... Are you really that weak around him? Because, now you understand there’s a deeper promise there. One you almost wish had remained in the dark. Almost. “If you want we can watch a movie, or —“ “I think.” You stare into the swirl of milk and honey before continuing. “Maybe we should sit and... Talk about what happened.” Your words always seem to have an effect on him because his pulse begins to race. It’s fear. “Yeah.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ You’re in trouble. Even with the suppressants dulling your senses they’re not strong enough to block the scent of seashore and sandalwood now permeating the walls. Not strong enough to hide the fact that your dorm is already starting to smell like Mirio. If people knew you allowed an Alpha into your home, let alone an unmated one, you’re reputation would tarnished. You know this, it’s been drilled into your head since presenting as an Omega, but... It’s Mirio Togata that’s seated next to you in your kitchen. The one exception — Or at least that’s what you hope. The cheap material of the barstool digs into your back and there’s a constant drumming of fingers against the laminate countertop, a harmony of tension. The thing that held you captive in the bathroom is back and whispering in your ear. It doesn’t use words, no, instead you’re haunted by awful unintelligible garble. Of blood filled lungs struggling for air. This is a bad idea. You can already feel your mouth becoming dry, but there’s no going back — “What happened during the fight?” It’s the one question that could’ve caught Mirio off guard, and his smile falters, if only for a split second. “Oh you mean —“ A hand rubs the skin of his neck sheepishly, as if you caught him redhanded in the cookie jar. “I guess I did go a little overboard on that guy, didn’t I?” He says half jokingly, he wants so badly to be able to sweep the whole thing under the rug. A little overboard? “But don’t worry! From here on out I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you.” Even without his quirk, he’ll manage. “I promise.” Even if it means he has to get his hands dirty. He reaches an arm to wrap around your shoulder, so you know your hero will always be there for you and — You flinch at the touch. ... Mirio blinks a few times because he’s not sure what happened. You hadn’t meant to flinch. You really hadn’t meant it. But it’s too late. It’s clear as day, he sees it in your eyes. And you know it when his smile begins to fall, it’s plummeting. There’s fear in your eyes. Somewhere in your subconscious you must’ve been praying. Stupid, so incredibly stupid. Praying that you were strong enough to hide it from him. And it makes what comes next all the worse. “Wait you’re —“ Blond brows knit together, still grasping the change in atmosphere. “You’re not afraid of me... Are you?” There it is. The air is suddenly tens times heavier, like breathing through a straw. Your throats so dry you’re not even sure you have the ability to speak. When Mirios only answer is deafening silence does he become hyper aware of the situation. You literally see the moment it clicks. It’s in the way his mouth opens and closes in disbelief, in the way his blue eyes widen in realization. It’s like watching an incoming car crash in slow motion , you know it’s going to be horrible but there’s nothing to stop it. You have to tear your eyes away before the inevitable collision and when you do... Mirios panic truly sets in. He had been afraid of you to thinking less of him. But never in a million years did he think that you might see him as a potential threat. This is a nightmare. He’s sweating bullets. “Sunshine I know — I know I messed up.” Another nickname. “I never meant to scare you. I’m sorry — I don’t know what took over, you know I never would have let it go that far but the guy, he —“ Each word more unsteady than the last, more desperate, because you won’t even look at him. And it’s killing him. He can’t take it anymore. Mirios scarred hands find your shoulders, slowly — Like you might crumble away from the touch but this time you don’t recoil from the fingers pressing into the material of your shirt. “Will you please look at me Darling?” Having averted your eyes you don’t bare witness to the pain carving his face but god, do you hear it. It’s absolutely heart wrenching. And despite it all, despite having watched him beat a man within an inch of his life, the last thing you want is to hurt Mirio. So you give in. And you look up to see a man on the edge. It’s worse than you imagined. You see the wild storm of blue, one that could easily ravage everything within its reach. “This is all some sort of misunderstanding right? I was just protecting you that’s all, you know I would never hurt you.” One of his hands has left your shoulder to snake its way to cup your face, thumb stroking languidly over the cherub of your cheek. Desperate for contact, for anything he can get from you. “Please just — Say that you’ll forgive me.” Everything. 

From the way Mirios voices wobbles weakly to the way he looks at you with desperation. It’s enough to crush every last bit of reason within you.

You break. This is the man that little voice inside your head screamed and begged you to stay away from? The man who lost everything to save a little girl from some madman? The man who rescued you and is now pleading for forgiveness in your kitchen? That man? Life is cruel. You’re finally able to find your voice. “Mirio. What you did was horrible —“ His heart just about stops beating right there. It hurts. Having his name associated with something so terrible in your eyes, even if to him it was something he’d done out of devotion... It’s a stab to the gut. “And despite everything.” Is this how it ends? You’re going to break up with him. “I — I can’t find it in myself to be upset with you.” Those words leave your lips and Mirio can finally breath. The blond hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath till now, the lack of oxygen straining his lungs. But you’re not done yet — “I’ve never met a person quite like you. You are the sweetest, definitely a little dense.” By the end your lips have started to curl upwards, it just comes naturally. “What I’m trying to say is that — I still care about you, and this isn’t the end —“ It’s like the worlds gone silent, your words are going in one ear and out the other. All he knows is that. You’re here. You’re smiling. And you’re not leaving him. It’s all Mirio needs to understand. The swell of emotions is just too much for him. It just sort of bursts out. “Though, you’re —“ “I love you.” ... The last — What? Six hours of your life have been nothing but a rollercoaster, one you’d like to get off of now. You don’t need a mirror to know you’re wearing the most wide-eyed expression of your entire life. But you couldn’t care less, because you’re far too busy replaying those magic words over and over in your head. You’re not sure you heard right. Maybe your skull was smashed against the pavement at some point during the fight and this is all some weird fever dream. That’s right. You’re probably in some hospital with IVs hooked to you. “Mirio —“ Pinching your inner arm before continuing, it’s almost concerning when the tinge of pain feels real. Very real... And you’ll be damned if you can’t find the reason for the sudden lack of common sense in the room. “Did you hit your head?” “I — What no? Y/N I’m being completely serious here.” “Are you sure? M-maybe you should you lie down, just incase?” You’re starting to panic because — Dear god, what if he needs medical attention and he’s here because of your own problems? As if reading your mind he understands. His heart skips and stutters because it’s him you’re worried about. He hasn’t lost you yet. And as much as he would love to tease you about how cute you are — He’s having none of it, because he just admitted his true feelings and your too worried about a stupid concussion! Suddenly he’s no longer seated next to you but standing and... He’s taking a few steps back? Once far enough away he outstretches his arms forward so that his thumbs mirror each other. “Could someone with a concussion do this?” In one swift motion his hands are planted to the floor with both legs kicked to a point in the air. A handstand. “One, two, three —“ Of course, nothing can be easy when it comes to Mirio. Show off. “— Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and twenty!” Twenty seconds. Your jaw would’ve hit the floor if it were physically possible. It’s impressive. More than that. “I can go longer if you want.” When he hops back to stand on his own two feet the floor trembles. “But, I’m not sure you want to watch me do a handstand all night.” He’s smiling and laughing. It makes you feel small and irrational, that you’ve been overthinking everything. That you’ve made something out of nothing. The panic starts to settle, like a layer of soot waiting for its next opportunity to suffocate. But you gotta ask one last time. For your own sanity. “So... You’re really okay?” If he’s fine then that would mean — “Never been better! Because — Here, let me say it again.“ He says stepping closer, like there’s a magnet between the two of you, he closes the gap. Before you know it large hands find yours, with the outmost care. You can only describe it as being bathed in sunlight, warm and glowing, your digits are dwarfed in Mirios own. It’s slower this time, softer. “I love you.” Has your heart ever flown this high before? “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not but, you’re the only person that’s made me feel this way — The only one for me.” You know there’s no way for you to come down unscathed. “I was being serious earlier you know? That... We could move in together.” His thumb maps the tiny hills of your knuckles. “So, won’t you please consider moving in with me?” Really now, it’s got to be one of the most ridiculous things you’ve be asked in a while. Hadn’t you only just admitted your feelings a few hours ago? Doesn’t he care what others will think? Why are you even entertaining the idea? Even as the list continues to grow, reasons on it’s unrealistic, why — Sitting perched atop the stool your feet dangle, support-less. You’re helpless because those blue irises are looking down upon you like your the only one in the world. It’s too much. “I —“ Why won’t the butterflies stop swarming you? “I need to sleep on this Mirio — This. It’s just a lot.” You’re certain now, now more than ever before. You’re in far deeper than you ever could have bargained for. Because you still haven’t said no yet. “Of course!” Voice soft and lighthearted, Mirios hands give yours a squeeze. Whether in reassurance or in fear of letting go he doesn’t know anymore. “Take all the time you need.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ The night ends with you helping bandage-up Mirios knuckles. Rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and Hello Kitty bandaids. The ugly futon you found at a garage sale and a few spare blankets are included in the five star Hotel experience. The springs groan back to life when Mirio unfolds the furniture. You don’t know how long you stand in the doorframe of your bedroom, there’s just so much — Why’d he have to pile everything on you at once! You just need time, that’s all. Time to think. Once you get your head out of the clouds you’ll be able to let him down gently, because it’s a childish idea after all. One you’d never agree too. Right? And maybe if you hadn’t succumbed to a night of stress you wouldn’t have failed to notice the bottle of pills missing from your nightstand. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ At some point sleep overtook you in your exhaustion, because your phone now reads 10:12AM. After laying in bed for an extra twenty minutes you finally sit up and only when your feet touch floor are you startled fully awake. Something touched your left foot, and it rattled at you. Your eyes adjust enough for you to see the culprit, it’s your bottle of suppressants. They must have rolled off your nightstand while you were out. It’s quiet. If you didn’t know any better you would say it felt like any other regular morning, besides the lingering fatigue. That’s why when you open your bedroom door it takes you by surprise, the lumpy, vaguely looking human shape on the futon. Mirios sleeping form barely fits the ancient pullout. One of his arms hangs off the side with his fingers resting against the floor. Only with the glow of the television are you able to make out his sleeping face. Whatever miraculous hair gel he buys no longer keeps the mess of blond together, bangs of gold hang over his soft features. A normal persons heart probably wouldn’t flutter at something so simple. From under the blanket peeks the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for at least a day now. The same one you cried into. In a few days the scent of calming sea waves and citrus will fade. And you’ll be all that’s left behind. It’s a realization that leaves you feeling, empty. You find the more time spent mulling over the situation the blurrier everything becomes. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to convince yourself, no matter how many hours you spend staring at your ceiling in the dark of your bedroom — It won’t change the way your heart beats wildly whenever you’re around him. You can’t help but wonder. Is it really such a bad idea? 

And you know you’re a terrible person because the curve of your lips is real as you gently place your hand on his shoulder. There are roots that have already taken hold of you long ago. 

[avengerscompound]

The Surrogate - Chapter 9

The Surrogate:  A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  1637

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Pregnancy, talk of miscarriage, medical procedures

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.  While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people.  When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want.  Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 9

If you thought that Natasha and Clint were around a lot before you were pregnant, it was nothing compared to after you got that positive test.  The only time at least one of them wasn't there with you was when you were sleeping or at work, and even then, they were often there.

They were being hyper-protective and nagging you a lot about taking your vitamins and not overexerting yourself.  They pushed for a conversation with Steve about changing your work and pulling you off active missions, which, given that your skillset was ‘can’t get killed so use as cannon fodder’, it meant there wasn't a hell of a lot you could do as part of the team.

All of this would have been incredibly annoying except for the fact you really liked having them around.  Even if they were being a little too overprotective.

It was definitely a problem.

On the day of your five-week ultrasound, they were both a couple of bundles of nerves.  Natasha was mostly silent.  Sometimes you could see her worrying at the inside of her cheek and you knew that she was expecting to go in and find that the pregnancy hadn't taken properly after all or worse, that there would be no heartbeat and it would confirm the fact that she'd never get to be a parent.

Clint seemed to be hung up on something quite the opposite.

He paced the ultrasound room as you sat on the chair in your hospital gown waiting for Cynthia the on-site ultrasound technician to come in.  You knew her well, as you did most of the medical team at the compound considering how many tests they'd run on you, not to mention how they'd get you in to donate blood regularly or see if you could help with any injuries they had.

Natasha was sitting on a stool beside your chair and the more Clint paced the tighter the grip got on your hand.

“Oh god,” Clint babbled as he walked.  “What if there's more than one?  How can I be a dad to three kids?  I can barely even look after myself.  I can't take care of three infants too.”

“Clint,” you said, as you watched him turn and pace back again.  “How about you wait and see how many babies there are and then freak out?”

“Right,” he said, and let out a breath.  “Right.  Sorry.”

He took a seat and put his arm around Natasha just after Cynthia came in.  “Hi!”  The bubbly tech said as she came in the door.  “This is exciting, isn't it?  I hardly get any pregnancy stuff here?  It's always x-rays for broken bones.”

She sat down on the stool and began turning various things on and typing into a computer.  “You must be so excited, huh?  Going with surrogacy, this baby is gonna be so loved and wanted.  I bet the others are excited about being aunts and uncles too.”

“Yeah, we’d kinda given up,” Clint said.  He was rubbing Natasha's back in soothing circles as she seemed to almost start turning green.

Cynthia took the controls for the chair you were on and reclined it so you were lying flat on your back with your knees up.  She took the imaging wand from the holster and prepped it.

“It's going to be hard to see them so don't freak out that it might take a little while to find it.  It's just the size of an orange seed,” she said.

“Oh my god,” Clint said.  “So small?”

“Yeah,” Cynthia laughed.  “So be patient. It's like finding an orange seed in a full-grown adult.”  She scooted the chair closer and brought the wand up.  “There will be a pinch,” she warned and pushed the probe inside you.

It pinched as it entered and there was as uncomfortable pressure inside you as she moved the wand around, trying to find the embryo.  Natasha’s hand squeezed harder and harder on yours the longer it took.  And the longer it took to find them the more uncomfortable it got and the harder you squeezed her hand back.

A little black spot appeared in the sea of static gray and inside it was a little circle blob.  “There it is,” Cynthia said.  “One perfectly normal five-week embryo.”

“Where?” Clint asked, narrowing his eyes and peering at the screen.

Cynthia circled the spot on the screen.  “This thing here,” she said.

“That?” Clint said in disbelief.  “How could you even tell?”

“Training mostly,” Cynthia joked. “But I promise, that seed is the very start of a baby.”

“Just one?” Clint asked.

“Let me just do another check,” she said, moving the wand around again. When she seemed happy she focused on the original spot again.  “Just one.”

“And it's fine?” Natasha asked.

“So far so good,” Cynthia said.  “I mean, I'm not a doctor and you’re doctor will be able to tell you more but this is all in the normal regions.  We can take a look again at eight weeks and you’ll be able to see the heartbeat.”

Natasha relaxed and nodded.  “Thank you.”

“Agent Romanoff,” Cynthia said as she pulled out the wand.  “It’s still very early stages, so there are no promises made that this will be a successful pregnancy but if you're ever really panicking, you can just call and I can check on them.  I don't mind.  Even if it's the middle of the night.”

“Really?” Natasha said, even as you internally cursed at the idea of being woken up for an ultrasound at midnight.

“Yeah, if it will put your mind at rest,” she said.  “We can keep a close eye on them.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said earnestly.  “I appreciate that.”

“No problem,” Cynthia said as she started packing up.  “Okay, I'll forward all this on to Martina and she'll get in touch.”

“Can I put clothes on?” You asked, hopefully.

“Sure can,” Cynthia said.  “I hope it was as good for you as it was me.”

You laughed as you got up.  “I mean, I’ve had better,” you teased.  “But I guess I've had worse too.”

“Solid average, right where I was aiming,” Cynthia joked.

You went into the dressing room laughing and got redressed into your uniform.  Cynthia was gone when you returned and Natasha and Clint were waiting expectantly for you.

“So that’s good news,” you said.  “Nat, you get one.  And Clint, you only get one.”

Clint snorted.  “Yeah, that was a relief.  I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl.

“Long time off before you find that out,” you said as the three of you headed out.  “What do you want?”

“Hmm,” Clint mused.  “I don’t even care.  I’m gonna dress them in purple either way.”

“Your brother had red hair right?”  You asked.

“He does,” Clint confirmed.

“Little redhead baby,” you said, running your hand over your stomach.  “Oh imagine if they get the red hair gene and the blue-eyed one.  That’s the rarest one.”

“Then they’ll look like Pepper and Tony will think you had her kid,” Clint joked.

Natasha stopped walking as the two of you were babbling to each other and it took you both a moment to realize that she wasn’t with you anymore.  When you both realized she wasn’t with you, you turned and looked at her.  She was covering her face with her arm.

“Nat, what’s wrong?”  Clint said, going over to her and putting his arm around her shoulders and crouching so he was face to face with her.

She shook her head.  “When you started talking about what they’ll look like, I could picture them.  I want them so bad, Clint,” she said, taking her hand away from her face.  She wasn’t crying but she seemed closed.

Clint pulled her into his arms and held her, looking almost as helpless as she seemed.  It was not at all how you were used to seeing them, but it was getting more and more common as the process progressed.  You hoped by the time the baby was looking like a baby she’d accept it was going to happen for them.

“You’re gonna have that baby in your arms, little redhead with blue eyes.  I promise, Nat,” he soothed.

She hid her face in his chest and breathed him in without saying anything.  He just held her rubbing her back.  You stood there watching them, wanting to leave because this was their moment and despite the fact they were your best friends and you were carrying their baby, this part was private and had nothing to do with you.  Yet at the same time, you wanted to go to them and reassure them.  You wanted to tell them that you knew this was going to work.  You knew for sure.  So you just stood and waited awkwardly for them.

Natasha took a deep breath and pulled back.  “Okay,” she said.  “I’m okay.  Sorry.  This whole thing is so much harder than I expected.”

“Do you regret it?”  Clint asked, his thumb caressing the inside of her wrist.

She shook her head.  “No.”

“Good,” you said.  “‘Cause I’m not raising this baby alone.”

Clint started laughing and draped his arm around Nat’s shoulders.  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said.

“Alright, you two,” you said.  “I gotta get back to work.  Filing shit or whatever busy shit Steve’s got me doing.”

“I think I’m gonna go punch some things,” Natasha said with a nod.

“That sounds fun,” Clint said.  “Shall we all meet for lunch?”

“Yeah, the cafeteria at 12.30?” Natasha asked.

“Sounds good,” Clint said and they both looked at you.

You chuckled.  You were theirs for the next 9 months, and you felt that it should annoy you.  It didn’t though.  You just wished it would be for longer.

// NEXT

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Two

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Two

They didn’t talk more about it later. Jace barely saw Simon at all over the following couple weeks, in fact. It’s not that he was intentionally avoiding Simon, but they both had final exams to study for, and Simon was wrapped up in guitar ensemble rehearsals for the winter concert on top of that. If Jace had spent a little more of his study time in the library than was strictly necessary and that just happened to prevent any further discussions of dispays of physical affection and practice dates, that was entirely beside the point.

What Jace hadn’t counted on was how unprepared he’d feel pulling up outside the Queen Anne style townhouse he’d called home for most of his childhood. He suddenly wished he’d let Simon talk him into driving together and using the drive as a last minute planning session, even if it meant they’d need to coordinate their trip back to Boston. As much as he’d been avoiding talking about their plan, it really only occurred to Jace on the drive how much he wished they actually had, you know, a plan.

“Wow,” Simon said, hopping out of the hand-painted van he’d parked right behind Jace’s car. “Is that an actual turret?”

“Yup, gotta love those late 19th century architectural fads,” Jace answered as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk. “The house belonged to Maryse’s grandparents, and I’ve never been able to tell how much she actually likes the style and how much is just childhood nostalgia, but she hasn’t even changed much of the interior except for renovations and repairs.”

“I have a hard time imagining growing up in a place like this,” Simon said as he joined Jace with his own suitcase in hand. “And it’s not like my mom’s house is tiny or anything, but this is just...” He waved a hand vaguely at the house. “A lot.”

He didn’t ask why Jace was sharing a tiny apartment furnished entirely secondhand if his family lived in a house like this, and Jace didn’t offer an explanation.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Jace said, even though there was plenty to be nervous about. “I promise the house doesn’t bite.”

“Yeah, less worried about the house than the people in it,” Simon told him.

“I thought you were, like, the parent whisperer,” Jace teased. “Isn’t that why you offered to come with me? Because you make a great boyfriend? Trust me, as long as Alec and Izzy think you make me happy, they’ll love you, and you know more about comics than anyone I’ve ever met, so Max will love you regardless.”

“Okay,” Simon said, releasing a heavy breath. “Okay, thanks. You’re right, I just got a little intimidated by the house, but this is all going to be fine.”

“Maryse is probably going to hate you, though,” Jace continued, keeping his face carefully deadpan. “She hates everyone we bring home. It’s like a rite of passage. But you’re great with parents, so I’m sure you’ll at least avoid intentional food poisoning.”

Simon stared at him in horror, and Jace couldn’t keep a hit of a smile from breaking through.

“I hate you,” Simon told him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jace said, “I’m pretty sure the food poisoning wasn’t actually intentional.”

“Wait, there was actual food poisoning?”

“Come on,” Jace said, heading toward the door. “I want to get inside before we freeze to death.”

“You are such a dick sometimes,” Simon muttered, catching up to him.

Then, he slipped his free hand into Jace’s like it was a totally normal thing to do, and Jace had to catch himself from tripping over the steps.

“Careful,” Simon said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going to make a very good impression on your family if you fall and break your neck before we even get inside.”

And there was just nothing to say to that, to how uncomfortable it wasn’t to have Simon’s hand in his like this, to the way it made him want. So Jace simply rolled his eyes and pushed open the front door, letting the scent of home wrap around him like a warm blanket.

“Okay,” Simon said quietly as he surveyed the entryway, complete with antique chandelier. “Feeling a little intimidated again.” And it was so easy for Jace to just give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, you made it,” a warm voice greeted them. “With as bad as traffic has been, we thought you’d be another hour at least.”

“Hey, man,” Jace said, dropping Simon’s hand so he could pull his brother into a hug. “People must be staying home for the holidays this year, because we barely hit any traffic at all.” He glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

“Iz should be here any minute, Max is holed up in his room playing video games with his friends, and Magnus is helping Mom with some last-minute grocery shopping for dinner tomorrow.” Alec held out a hand to Simon. “I’m Alec, since Jace apparently can’t be bothered to make introductions like a civilized person.”

“It’s okay,” Simon said, giving his hand a quick shake, “I gave up on the idea of Jace being civilized the first time I saw him eat pizza that had been sitting out on the counter for three days.”

“That was your pizza,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah,” Simon said, “which I was going to throw away because I forgot about it for three days.”

“On the subject of uncivilized,” Jace said, turning back to Alec, who was looking just a little too pleased, “you really sent Magnus shopping with Maryse? Buddy, if you decided you don’t want to marry the guy, just break it off with him. You don’t have to throw him to the wolves like that.”

Alec’s tiny smile became a little less tiny and a whole lot softer. “Magnus and Mom have actually been getting along lately. She wanted his opinion on wine pairings, so they went to the store and left me here so I can pull the bread out of the oven when it’s done. It’s very weird, but also nice.”

“That does sound very weird,” Jace told him, “but I’m glad things are working out and Maryse has found some level of chill somewhere.”

“Hopefully that means I won’t get poisoned,” Simon said.

Alec snorted. “If you want to avoid it, you should probably avoid mentioning you know about that. Or any other embarrassing family stories Jace might have shared with you.”

“And don’t eat anything Izzy hands you,” Jace added. “Anything she cooks probably won’t kill you, but the taste will make you wish you were dead.”

“So, I should just fast while I’m here,” Simon said. “Good to know.”

Jace led Simon upstairs to drop off their bags while Alec checked on the bread.

“Just toss your bag anywhere,” Jace said, opening the door to his old room. “We can argue over who gets which side of the dresser later.”

“Sure,” Simon said cheerfully, “as long as we can be civil deciding who gets which side of the bed.” He stopped just inside the doorway. “Wow, okay. The apparently very small bed.”

And this really was something that should have occurred to him, Jace realized. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered that he’d be sharing a bed with Simon. They’d even talked about it, briefly, and agreed it was no big deal. But Jace hadn’t considered exactly how much smaller his childhood bed was than the generous queen he slept in back home. It was technically large enough to fit two grown men, but only technically.

“Don’t worry,” Jace said, falling back on his trademark bravado, “I won’t get mad if you cuddle me in your sleep. I know you can’t help it if your subconscious recognizes that I’m irresistible.”

“I’m more worried about your freakishly sharp elbows,” Simon muttered.

“As long as you don’t snore or steal the covers, you won’t have to worry about my elbows,” Jace told him. He was planning to keep his elbows, and the rest of him, as far away from Simon as possible. Which, given the size of the bed, was maybe three inches.

“Dude, I do not snore,” Simon protested. “You know that; we live together.”

“You absolutely snore after your fourth drink.”

“I wasn’t planning to get drunk with your family,” Simon said, tossing his bag onto the bed.

“You say that now,” Jace said, leaving his own bag next to the door. “But wait until you get the full Lightwood Christmas experience before deciding you want to spend the whole thing sober.”

“If your family drives me to drink, you don’t get to blame me for snoring,” Simon countered. Which was probably fair, but Jace was saved from having to admit that by the sound of voices coming from downstairs.

“That’d be Izzy,” Jace said, “and we’d better get down there before she accuses me of trying to hide you from her.”

“Jace,” called a singsong voice, right on cue, “quit making out with your mystery hottie and get down here so we can actually meet him.”

“You should be careful making demands like that,” Jace called back. “What if I’m not wearing any pants?”

“We’ve all seen it. Get your ass down here “

“I like your sister already,” Simon told him.

“You say that now, but wait until she decides you count as family. She won’t be any better with you.” He took Simon’s hand. Because it helped sell their relationship. Because he could. Simon laced their fingers together, and Jace tried not to feel any way about that at all as he led Simon back down the stairs.

They only made it a couple steps before Simon came to a complete stop, almost causing Jace to trip the rest of the way down the staircase. He heard Simon mutter a soft ‘oh crap’ at the same time a bright, redheaded whirlwind came rushing up the stairs at them.

“Oh my god, Simon?” Clary grabbed Simon into a giant bearhug, effectively tearing his hand out of Jace’s. “You’re Jace’s mystery boyfriend? How did I not know about this? You didn’t even tell me you were dating anyone, you jerk! What happened to best friend gossip privileges?”

Clary pulled back from the hug, and now that Jace could actually see her face, he could see the hint of concern she was trying to hide under her wide smile.

“Clary. Hi,” Simon said, eyes wide. “I was going to tell you, I swear. It’s just, this is kind of new and so...” He trailed off, looking panicked. His eyes caught Jace’s. “But, uh, yeah. This is Jace. My boyfriend. Jace, this is my best friend, Clary Fray.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, looking between the two of them and feeling more than a little out of his depth. He’d planned for things to be weird, but not this weird. “We’ve met.” He flashed Clary a smile. “Fray, huh?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t keep his name. Not after...after everything. Fray is the name Mom used before she married Luke. It’s the name I remember her having when I was little, so.” She shrugged. “I filed the paperwork to have it legally changed the day I turned eighteen.”

“It suits you,” Jace told her, and let himself be pulled into a tight hug that he suspected was as much because she needed one as that she was glad to see him. Clary had never told him much about the biological father she barely knew, but she’d told him enough to know that Clary held him responsible for her mother’s death, even if the courts had cleared him of any wrongdoing.

“Thanks,” Clary whispered, before surreptitiously drying her eyes on his shoulder and pulling back to flash a smile that was less forced than Jace expected. “So, tell me how this happened without me hearing about it.” She bumped Jace with her shoulder. “And if it’s so new, what possessed you to subject Simon to your family holidays?”

“Hey,” Izzy said, walking up behind Clary and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. Jace had to admit, they looked...well, right together. “That’s my family, too, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Clary said, offering a soft grin over her shoulder. “And the fact that I’m here should tell you exactly how much I love you.”

“Fair,” Izzy said, then looked at Simon. “So, how’d my brother convince you to join this circus?”

“We made a trade,” Simon said, straight-faced. “I put up with his family for Christmas and he puts up with mine for my cousin Rachel’s wedding.” He leaned in and told Izzy in a stage whisper, “Also, I’m weak for his smile, but don’t tell him I said that, because he will abuse it.”

“You say that like I don’t already abuse it,” Jace said, sliding his arm around Simon’s waist in a mirror of Izzy and Clary’s pose. “And to answer your earlier question, us being officially together is new, but we’ve been sort of on the verge of dating for ages. Practically since we started sharing an apartment last year.”

Clary let out a peal of delighted laughter. “Oh, you’re the roommate. It makes sense now.” Before Jace could ask what made sense, she was pulling the both of them into a tight hug. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“If I’d known you were going to be this excited, I definitely would have mentioned it sooner,” Simon said, pulling back from the hug.

Jace tried to catch his eye, wondering what on earth was going on. He knew both Clary and Simon well enough to know he was missing something, but he had no idea what it was. Simon ignored him, and that just made Jace more suspicious.

“Come on,” Izzy said. “You can have your hug fest later. Right now, I want to help Alec get things set up in the kitchen and maybe surprise Mom by getting dinner started before she gets back.”

Jace and Clary exchanged a panicked look, and Jace frantically searched his mind for excuses to keep Izzy busy. He didn’t actually want a repeat of the food poisoning episode, after all.

“Actually,” Simon said, turning a bright smile on Izzy. “I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to show me your Lego Star Wars collection before we get too wrapped up in family stuff. Jace mentioned you have the deluxe Imperial Star Destroyer set from the early 2000’s, and I’ve never actually seen one in person.”

“Oh,” Izzy said, looking torn. “I’m not sure—”

“We can help Alec in the kitchen,” Clary said quickly. “You two go do your nerd thing. I knew this was inevitable when I finally introduced you two anyway. And this way I get the chance to harass my bestie’s new boyfriend without him in the way trying to keep me from learning the embarrassing details.”

“You know, on second thought—” Simon began, looking slightly panicked.

“Come on,” Izzy interrupted, smiling brightly and grabbing his hand.

Simon flashed Clary a betrayed look, then looked to Jace for support. Jace simply smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, love muffin,” he said mildly. “I’d never intentionally embarrass you.”

“I want you to know that I hate both of you,” Simon said before allowing Izzy to drag him back up the stairs.

“My collection is all still in my old room,” Izzy said. “Clary and I have been looking for an apartment big enough I can actually move the rest of my stuff out of here, but so far we haven’t found anything in our price range.”

Jace turned back to Clary. “Exactly what kind of embarrassing stories were you hoping for? Because I have many.”

Clary shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got more embarrassing Simon stories than you do. I’ve got almost two decades worth. But I was actually hoping to talk to you alone anyway, and this seems like the best chance we’re going to get.”

Jace followed her down the stairs and into the study. “Sounds serious. You planning to give me a shovel talk?”

Clary laughed, shaking her head. “No, I know you, remember? I’m not worried about you hurting Simon. Well,” she amended, “not any more than I am about him hurting you.” She met his eyes with a soft smile. “You might be the only person I know with a heart as big as Simon’s, as much as you try to hide it.”

Jace looked away. It had been two years since the last time he’d seen her, and she could still see right to the heart of him. He didn’t want to know what she’d see if she kept looking. “Clary—”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she teased. “But I didn’t actually bring you out here to talk about Simon. I wanted to apologize.”

Jace frowned, looking back at her. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He was more than a little grateful not to have Clary grilling him about his entirely fabricated relationship, but he wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.

“No, I do,” she insisted. “I promised to keep in touch when you moved away, and I didn’t.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jace said, even if maybe it had been at first. Those first few months at school had been hard. Jace always thought he was used to being alone, especially after his mother’s suicide, but he found out just how much he’d come to rely on his new family when he didn’t see them every day. They’d kept in touch, of course, but with Izzy immersed in her studies and Alec all wrapped up in his new relationship with Magnus, it wasn’t anything like what it had been when they were all under one roof.

For a while, he and Clary had been in touch nearly every day, sometimes texting multiple times a day. Jace told her about his classes and how much he liked Boston, and Clary told him all about trying to narrow down which art schools she wanted to apply to. It was almost the same sort of easy friendship they’d had before he left, after they agreed they were better off as friends.

But after a couple months, Clary’s messages came less and less often, and eventually stopped altogether. Jace tried not to let it bother him, but he started drinking a bit too much and going to a few too many parties. Which was how he’d met Maia, his attempts at flirting somehow leading to him getting his ass handed to him at beer pong, and soon he found himself with an entire group of new friends. Although Maia insisted for almost a year that she and Jace were merely antagonistic acquaintances.

Clary gave him a look that told him she knew exactly how full of it he was. “It was a shitty thing to do, and I was a shitty friend,” she told him. “Especially because I did it on purpose. Izzy and I started getting close and I started to have feelings for her, and I didn’t know what to say to you about it. I didn’t know how to even talk to you about what was going on in my life without mentioning that she was becoming such a big part of it.”

“You didn’t actually have to hide it from me, you know,” Jace said. “I was surprised when Izzy first told me, but I’m mostly just glad you’re both happy. And seeing you together, I know you both are.”

“Thanks,” Clary said. “I didn’t want to hurt you or make things weird. For a while, I thought I could just ignore what I was feeling, but Iz is just... She’s not someone you can ignore, you know?”

“Oh, I know exactly how hard my sister is to ignore, believe me.” Jace stopped, considered, then admitted something he had never said—would never say—to another person. But this was Clary, and he knew she would never repeat it. And even if she did, he could always play it off as part of the act. “She and Simon have that in common. You know, I actually thought I hated him at first? He’s so enthusiastic about everything, and so sincere, and just.” He shrugged. “Not the kind of person I thought would ever do it for me.”

“But he won you over with his boyish charm?” Clary guessed.

“Mm,” Jace agreed. And the way he loved without reserve. Not just his family and friends, but his music, his favorite films, even the crappy nachos from the 7-11 down the block from their apartment. Simon loved every part of life, and being around him, Jace could almost imagine what that felt like. “Well, that and his abs.”

“Can’t forget those,” Clary laughed.

“Not with how often he eats breakfast shirtless,” Jace agreed. “Come on. If we aren’t in the kitchen by the time Izzy gets back downstairs, you know she’ll try to help Alec herself, and I was kind of hoping for dinner to be edible.”

~~~

Dinner was surprisingly painless. Maryse was more relaxed and happy than Jace had ever seen her, and he couldn’t help wondering how much of that was related to the very unsubtle smiles she kept exchanging with Clary’s stepfather. Even Max, who was deep in throes of preteen scorn, grudgingly admitted that Simon being in a band was “pretty cool” and joined in on some of Simon, Clary, and Izzy’s excited nerd talk that went entirely over Jace’s head.

After dinner, they retired to the living room for eggnog and carols. Jace limited himself to a single cup of Magnus’s infamous eggnog, knowing better than to let himself get drunk when he was putting on a show for his family. Or sharing his tiny bed with Simon.

As usual, Jace let himself get pushed over the piano to play. He felt something in him settle as soon as he rested his fingers on the keys of Maryse’s baby grand, the feel different and so much more familiar than the ancient keyboard he had back in Boston or the well-used uprights in the practice rooms at school.

When Jace had first come to live with the Lightwoods, he’d been afraid to touch the piano. His mother had put him in lessons as soon as he was old enough, but she hated to listen to him play and often chastised him for not being a better player, saying he should be better at it with how talented his father was. Now, he understood that it was just another manifestation of the combined grief and mental illness that led to Celine’s death, but at the time he’d hated how awful he was at playing, no matter how much he enjoyed doing it.

But Maryse knew he played and encouraged him to use her piano. She told him that it had been her father’s, and though she’d taken lessons herself as a child, she’d never really loved it the way he had. She said that the instrument deserved to be loved, and as long as Jace loved playing it, she didn’t care how good he was or wasn’t.

It was the first time he’d really felt like this could be his home.

“Okay,” Jace said after the third version of O Tannenbaum with ridiculous altered lyrics—this one courtesy of Simon rather than Max or Clary, about an ill-fated toad who chose the wrong moment to cross the street, “I think my fingers are done for the night.”

“Oh, come on,” Clary said. “Simon and I have at least a dozen more of these we came up with when we were kids.”

“When we were little, I only knew the lyrics to the Christmas songs they played on the radio, so Fray made up silly lyrics to the other ones and told me they were real,” Simon explained. “And it made her so happy that I went along with it even for the couple I did know.”

“There will be plenty of time for more singing tomorrow,” Maryse said. “But if I know this one,” she continued, smiling at Max, “we’re all going to be dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn for presents.”

“Mom,” Max whined, “I’m not a kid anymore. I know the presents will still be there whenever I get up.”

“I seem to remember someone who looked an awful lot like you waking us up before sunrise last year,” Magnus said with exaggerated confusion. “Perhaps you have a twin I haven’t met?”

Max fixed him with a withering look. “Last year, I was eleven. This year I’m twelve,” he said, as though that explained it.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve grown out of it,” Alec told him. “Because I intend to sleep in. And if you try to get me out of bed early, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

“Oh, no need for that, darling,” Magnus said cheerfully. “I’ll just barricade the door before we go to sleep so he can’t get to us.”

“Brilliant,” Alec said, giving Magnus a frankly sappy smile. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“And on that note,” Jace said, “I think I’m going to head to bed before I die of sweetness overdose.”

“Oh, please,” Magnus said, giving him an unimpressed look. “We all saw you and Simon making eyes at each other over those cookies you were frosting earlier.”

“It’s true,” Izzy said before Jace could protest. “You don’t get to tease Alec about being a sap anymore, not now that we’ve all actually seen you with someone you love.”

Jace froze, his mouth half open, then quickly snapped it shut. It made sense that Izzy would assume. He’d brought Simon home for Christmas, after all. That was the story they were selling even if they hadn’t actually discussed it, even if it wasn’t something Jace had said or even implied. And whatever he did feel for Simon, it certainly wasn’t love. It was, at best, a friendly crush. A very intense friendly crush.

Izzy seemed to realize her mistake, glancing between him and Simon with a look of dawning panic.

“No, you’re misunderstanding how this works,” Simon said easily, because of course Izzy’s words hadn’t sent him into a panic the way they had Jace. “Jace gets to tease Alec, and you, and you both get to tease him back.”

“Yep,” Clary agreed. “Those are the rules, because that means I still get to tease Simon.”

“Please,” Izzy said. “Clary and I are too sophisticated to be sappy.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you call Clary ‘cuddle bug’ earlier,” Alec said.

“And I definitely saw you laugh at that terrible joke she told at dinner,” Jace added.

“She ate one of the cookies you made,” Max accused.

“Yeah, sorry, cutie,” Clary said. “We’re really pretty sappy.”

“Fine,” Izzy huffed. “But I just think you’re all jealous because I’ve got the cutest girlfriend.”

“Yes, Izzy,” Alec said drily. “You’ve uncovered my secret. I’m extremely jealous of your girlfriend.”

“I knew it,” Izzy said smugly, as though Alec had been perfectly sincere.

“Definitely in danger of dying of sweetness overdose,” Jace said.

That set off another round of teasing, this time with Izzy throwing in not so subtle attempts to drag Maryse and Luke into it. Jace wasn’t sure why Izzy was so determined to make the two admit there was something between them. It was obvious there was just from the way they acted around each other. Maryse would tell them when she was ready, just like she had when she and Robert filed for divorce.

It was almost another hour before Jace finally made his way up the stairs toward his room. He was surprised when Simon rose to follow him, but didn’t say anything until they were back in his room.

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay to nerd out with Clary and Iz some more.”

“I get to talk to Clary all the time,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it’ll be easier to keep up the whole fake boyfriend thing if I don’t let her get me alone. She’d definitely figure out something’s up if I let her start grilling me about our relationship. Also, you don’t get to call me a nerd when you know just as much about Star Wars as I do.”

“It’s impossible to grow up with Izzy and not know way too much about Star Wars,” Jace said, pulling off his shirt and tossing it over a chair. “Are you still sure about doing this? Neither of us counted on Clary, and I’ll understand if you want to back out.”

“Huh?” Simon said, sounding distracted. Jace turned to look at him and thought he detected the faintest flush on Simon’s cheeks when he met his eyes. “I mean, yeah, no, I’m not backing out.” He gave an uncomfortable shrug as he pulled a set of pajamas out of his suitcase. “The last thing I want is to have to explain this whole thing to Clary.”

“Good point,” Jace agreed, turning around to put on his own pajama bottoms. It was tempting to watch Simon change, but it was also a very bad idea. “I don’t want to think about what she’d have to say to both of us if she knew.”

There was a beat of silence before Simon asked, “So, do you, um, have a preferred side of the bed?”

Jace turned to look at him, only a little disappointed to find Simon fully dressed in his pajamas. As usual when someone asked a question he didn’t want to think about, Jace flashed a smirk. “In a bed this small, I usually just take up the whole thing.”

“Well, unless you want me on top of you, you should pick a side,” Simon said, unimpressed. “Because I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’ll take the left,” Jace said quickly, trying and mostly failing to avoid thinking about exactly how much he did want Simon on top of him. “I’m just gonna hit the bathroom real quick.”

Which was how Jace found himself locked in the tiny guest bathroom, lip caught between his teeth as he frantically tugged at his cock. He hadn’t planned on jerking off, but he couldn’t get Simon’s words out of his head, and he sure as hell wasn’t getting into bed with Simon half-hard, which was really the only other option.

He could picture it far too easily. Simon pressing him into that ridiculously tiny bed, hands gentle but firm, mouth just a little bit desperate.

He came to the thought of rutting up against those ridiculous abs.

By the time Jace cleaned himself up and returned to his room, Simon was nestled under the covers on the right side of the bed. Seeing him like that made something in Jace’s chest clench, and he flipped the light off just so he wouldn’t have to look anymore.

“‘Night,” Simon said as Jace slid into bed, taking care to stay entirely on his side.

“Don’t even think about snoring,” Jace answered.

He lay in the dark for a long time, staring into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the city that didn’t quite drown out the soft breathing of the man beside him. He tried not to think about how easy and relaxed the night had been, how perfect it would have been if only half of it weren’t a lie.

[hypnofur1]

My Life as a Hypno Fur Queen - Chapter 2

That incident with the construction workers was an indicator of where my general mindset was at. With each passing day, I was less interested in “Cindy” stuff. Less interested in dealing with PTA things, less interested in dealing with drama from the neighborhood women. I was interested in hypnotic erotic domination, and there was little room for anything else. I knew this was a dangerous road, but I couldn’t stop myself from going down it.

With the kids at school, Nick at work, and the construction workers in the house working on the closet, I spent a lot of time in my bedroom. Most of it was either researching hypnosis stuff online or shopping online. One afternoon, as the closet was almost finished, I found what I thought would be the perfect centerpiece.

The room had originally been a fairly good size office, so as a closet, it was enormous. There was a large open space in the middle. I found a red velvet couch for the middle of the floor. I figured it would be great to hypnotize and fuck on. I sent it to Nick and told him to order it.

“Cindy, I think we need to chill on the purchases for a while. I know we have the inheritance stuff, but this couch is like $2k” he texted back to me.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I was pleased or annoyed that he wrote that. Part of me just wanted him to do what I wanted, but the other part of me liked the challenge.

The construction crew was just down to one finish guy, a portly guy name Jorge. Jorge was in his late 40’s. He was very nice, as they all were. He was a little bit intimated by me, which I liked. I’m sure my interaction with the crew the other day exacerbated his level of intimidation. I noticed Jorge get all sweaty and nervous when I was around. I also noticed him sneaking glances as me. At this point though, he was wrapping up for the day. As soon as he left, I went into the closet. It still smelled new in there. I took a selfie and sent it to Nick.

Then I texted him:

Me: Am I beautiful Nick?

Nick: yes

Me: Look past me. What do you see?

Nick: Your furs

Me: Who am I?

Nick: Cynthia

Me: Who is in control? Who do you serve?

Nick: You

Me: Order the couch. Get rush shipping. I don’t care how much it costs

Nick: Yes Cynthia

The power I had over him was intoxicating. I immediately felt the middle of my yoga pants getting wet. All alone in the house, I went back to my bedroom and opened the drawer next to my bed. Nick and I both had little bedside tables. The bottom drawer of mine had glamour magazines right at the top, but underneath those were my little toys. Looking through the drawer, I briefly considered the fingertip vibrator... quick, to the point, very effective. But instead I drew out my other vibrator... anatomically correct, except for the fact that it was purple silicone. I closed my eyes for a moment, holding the toy in my hand, realizing with a smile that it was about the same size as my husband. I reclined on the bed, my thick purple friend turned on low speed, and slowly teased the tip over my clit as I thought about the power I had over Nick My breathing sped up right away. I was so wet already, so turned on, that I slipped the tip of the toy down to the entrance of my pussy almost immediately, moaning a little bit as it pressed inward. Just the tip. Just that tease. Just those little teasing thrusts, the slow rumbling vibrations adding to the sensation as I briefly slipped the tip back up over her clit. The vibrations, those extra sensations, helped to compensate for not having Nick’s hypnotized, obedient, warm body pressing me into the bed. For not having a tongue invading my mouth with mindless kisses, pushing into me with his hard cock. "Oh," I whispered with the toy halfway in. "Oh, shit, feels so good." I said to no one. But I The thrusts were all the way in now. I thought of how silky I made my voice when I was hypnotizing Nick. I thought of how he was so powerless to resist my commands. Further encouraged by this, I reached down to turn up the speed on the vibrator, lifting my hips off the bed and gasping as I pushed against the toy. She reached behind her with one hand, gripping the headboard... Yes, almost there, just a bit more, oh, God... "I’m your hypnotic fur queen!" I burst out as at full volume as I climaxed, reveling in the feeling of bearing down on the realistic toy, riding the waves of muscle contractions magnified by the facsimile inside me. The last gasps of my orgasm took a while to dissipate, the vibrations keeping it going, and I bit my lip again as I rode the toy through the aftershocks. With a satisfied sigh, I finally turned off the vibrator and put it to the side. I laid there for a moment and basked in the post orgasmic glow. I felt relaxed and happy… but I still felt a little bit wicked. I was thinking about Jorge the last carpenter. He probably thought I was so hot. Hispanic guys love blondes, I learned that in Cancun. They are crazy for blondes. I probably seemed so rich to him, so untouchable. If he only knew that I had been masturbating just a few minutes after he had left.

I was thinking about this as I cleaned off the purple vibrator. As I was about to place it back in the drawer, I stopped. The wicked feeling I have prompted me to place the purple, penis shaped vibrator in the closet. I put it on a shelf, next to the furs, and next to a couple books on hypnosis, and a gold pocket watch that I had bought. I knew Jorge would find it the next day. I felt so sexy, so wicked.

But then the kids came home. I was thrust back into a world that was becoming less and less interesting to me. Cindy’s world. Mom Cindy, School Committee member Cindy, and at the particular time that Nick came home that night – sister Cindy.

“Well, why did you give him the keys?” I said with a snarl to my older sister, Denise. She lived in Rhode Island, and her life was always in a constant state of calamity and sadness. Nick could probably tell who I was on the phone with the moment that he walked in the door, he was not a big fan of hers of course. She was telling me some sob story about how her latest boyfriend had taken her car out after a night of drinking and smashed it up. It was always some pathetic adventure or another with her.

Nick gave me a smile and then headed upstairs to get out of his work clothes. Exchanging his shirt and tie for a t-shirt and basketball shorts. That’s what he did every night. Of course, over the last few weeks, he would also check the daily progress the construction crew was making with the closet.

Frankly, I had been so caught up in what was happening with the boys’ school stuff, dinner, and now Denise’s crap, that I had forgotten about the little surprise that I left for Jorge to find tomorrow.

However, I was certainly reminded when Nick and back downstairs and yelled to me in a panic, “Cindy, you left a dildo in the closet!”.

I could barely put my hand over the receiver fast enough so that Denise couldn’t hear. “SHHHHHH!” I admonished. Jeez, not only did I not want Denise to hear that, I didn’t want the boys to hear him too. God, he is such a spaz sometimes.

His face was red and he was totally shocked. His intense reaction was a reminder for me that my actions of late were really out of character. I knew I was spiraling a bit, but I didn’t care. It was sexy and fun, and exciting. So fucking hot. I loved the idea of Jorge seeing the dildo and not being able to stop thinking about me using it. I even loved that it shocked Nick, and that he wasn’t into it.

Denise was blabbering on and on. I just put her on mute, so she couldn’t hear what I said. I looked Nick deep in the eyes. I changed my body language and my tone. Hell, I felt like I changed my whole persona.

“Nick, look at me, look into my eyes” I said to him. “What did you see in the closet Nick?”

“Your purple… you know” he said. I noticed he didn’t break eye contact.

“What else did you see in the closet Nick?”

“A hypnosis book” he answered

“Have you ever been hypnotized Nick?” I asked, calmly and steadily

“Yes” he whispered now. His eyes locked into mine.

“What else is in the closet Nick?” I asked.

“Furs” he said, his breathing now ragged.

“Who hypnotized you Nick?” I asked

“You did”

“Whose furs are those Nick?”

“Yours” he said. I didn’t want to break eye contact, but I had a hunch that if I glanced down, I’d see an erection forming beneath the basketball shorts.

“You are hypnotized now, aren’t you Nick?” I said to him. It was phrased as a question, but it really wasn’t

“Yes” he whispered. I immediately felt my pussy moisten. I took the phone off mute and just blurted out to Denise that I would call her back. I could listen to her whine about her car problems later. I mean, I didn’t love my mini van, but you didn’t see me calling people complaining about it.

That did give me an idea though…. a wicked idea.

“Who controls you Nick? Who do you serve?’ I asked him as my arousal grew.

“you do. I serve you” he answered

“Good Nick. Go deeper now. Looking deep into my eyes, hearing only the sound of my voice. Deeper and deeper into my hypnotic control. Deeper and deeper.” I said, in my hypnotist voice. This was the first time I had ever brought him under without actually having fur present in the room with us. I wanted to capitalize on this opportunity.

“Looking so deep into my eyes. Completely and utterly focused on me. I am your whole world. So engrossed in me. So captivated by me. I am your hypnotic fur queen, and you are mine. Mine to control, mine to hypnotize. Deeper and Deeper. Going deeper and deeper under my hypnotic control. It feels so good to be completely immersed in my hypnotic spell. You love being hypnotized by me. You love to serve me, to please me. Pleasing me and serving me is the most important thing to you.” I said, my own breathing now ragged from arousal.

“You’ll do anything I say. Anything to please me. You can refuse me nothing. I am the most beautiful woman in the world. I am perfection. You find me so sexy. The more aroused you are, the more you obey me. Even if it is something you don’t want to do, your desire to serve me and please me will take precedence. Do you understand?” I told him. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my temple. I was feeling almost frenzied.

“Yes Cynthia” Nick responded immediately.

“Nick, I want you to go upstairs, and go into the closet. When you are in there, I want you to get on your phone and make a reservation for the nicest hotel in Providence for tomorrow night. We are going to drive my mini van down to Denise, and we are going to give it to her. You are then going to buy me a new Mercedes. Do you understand?” I said. I was actually touching myself at this point. Thank god for Fortenight, I knew it would keep the boys so occupied down in the basement that they wouldn’t come upstairs and overhear this.

“I-I” Nick stuttered, I could see he was struggling.

“You serve me Nick. It is so sexy to serve your fur queen. Tell me you will obey Nick”

“I will obey” he said weakly. I fucking loved it.

“Go upstairs and do that. Then, I want you to jerk off looking at the purple vibrator, thinking of me using it, do you understand?”

“Yes Cynthia”

“When you are done. Make dinner”

“Yes Cynthia”

“Go!” I said, almost evilly. I was so turned on that I stuck my hand down my pants. Maybe I should have gone up with him to use the vibrator…

****************

Jorge didn’t have much to finish on the job, less than an hour of work left. He was just replacing two drawer handles that had come in wrong and picking up the final check. However, I knew that he would see my purple vibrator on the shelf, on top of the hypnosis book. I knew that would shock and likely arouse him. I knew that, and I loved it.

I was in the kitchen, listening for him to start making his way downstairs. I looked really good, I had on a tight satin blouse, a short little mini skirt, and some strappy heels. It was a sexy version of a professional outfit. As I heard him start to come down the stairs, I hopped on to the kitchen counter and picked up the phone.

“Yes Mr. Mayor, you hear only the sound of my voice. You are deep, deep in my hypnotic power. You will obey my commands completely…” I said as he rounded the corner. I saw him nervously approach me. I had the final check, so I knew he would have to deal with me.

I looked deep into Jorge’s eyes with a sultry look. “Mr. Mayor. Sink deep into hypnosis. Sleep deep until you hear my voice again.” I said into the phone before hitting the mute button theatrically.

“Are you all done?” I asked Jorge.

“Y-Yes Ma’am” he said nervously.

“Before I give you this check, I want you to look deep into my eyes…” I said to him with a wicked smile.

Jorge’s eyes almost popped out of his head before he immediately diverted them. He said something in Spanish that I didn’t understand, and ran out of the house. I laughed and laughed. I might have even cackled. It was definitely an evil laugh none the less. Now, full disclosure, I stuck the check in the mail right away. I wasn’t trying to get out of paying the construction company, nor was I looking for a law suit. I was just looking for a little fun…

 **********************

It was easy to get my mom to come watch the boys. After all, I was giving Denise my car. My mom was always so overly protective of Denise, which by the way, is a large part of why she is who she is – but that is not the point of this story.

So anyway, my Mom came to watch the boys the next afternoon, which was a Friday so it worked out well. I was dressed very nicely, make up done, etc. Nick shuddered a little bit when he first saw me as he got home from work. I told him to shower and put on something nice as well. He of course obliged.

I didn’t wear the fur out of the house. I didn’t really want to wear it in front of my mom or the boys. I had Nick put a couple of them into garment bags and place them in the mini van. It was all smiles and hugs and “Cindy” when we were leaving the house. I knew the boys would be in good hands with my mom, despite the fact that she would spoil them rotten, and let them eat way more sugar than I would. Oh well, I didn’t really care about that at that moment.

As soon as we were both in the car, it was 100% Cynthia time. I had Nick pull over the second that we were out of view of our house, and get one of the furs out of the garment bag. I wasn’t going to wear it in the car, but I just wanted it out for the psychological effects it would have.

We live about an hour and a half north of Providence. This was a Friday night, so the traffic was thick. I called and got reservations at a restaurant called the Capitol Grille. It was known to be one of the nicest in the city. There was no place to park nearby the restaurant. I told Nick to pull up to the front and drop me off at the door. When we were at the front, I told him to get my fur and put it on me. He did so, opening my car door, taking my hand as I got out, treating me like a queen as he helped me slip into the fur.

I could feel his warm breath on my neck as he helped me into the fur. Part of me wanted to have him take me to the hotel right then and there and ride him like a cowgirl. But, I wanted to enjoy the evening first. I turned to him as I reached down and grabbed his crotch. As I suspected, his cock was rock hard. Perfect! That is just how I wanted it. I figured there was a possibility that the restaurant hostess even saw me grab him, but I didn’t care. I was in full Cynthia mode at this point.

I entered the restaurant with a confidence that I could have only dreamed about in my twenties. I immediately notice a lot of eyes on me. That wasn’t unusual, but in this fur, with this confidence, I felt it was magnified significantly. As I scanned the room, taking a mental inventory of all who noticed me. There were a number of men checking me out. There were a number of women givng me the stink eye. I loved it all.

Then I noticed this one guy at the bar. He was older, like 50’s, and he was well dressed. Expensive clothes. He had a look in his eye that I have seen before. It was the same look that Nick had the first time he saw me in a fur. All the color had drained from the guy’s face. He tried to avert his eyes, likely realizing that he was staring, but he just couldn’t. As a little test, I lightly ran my finger tips down the shawl collar of my fox fur coat as I stared at him. I could see from the guy’s reaction that I had just taken his breath away.

This dude 100% had a fur fetish! I laughed wickedly to no one. It was the same kind of laugh I laughed when I was teasing Jorge. Who the hell was I becoming?

Nick entered the restaurant, I felt him come up behind me. The hostess smiled at us politely and showed us to our seat. I kept glancing over to my starstruck friend at the bar, his eyes never left me. I looked at him and laughed knowingly.

Dinner was fantastic, as were the cosmopolitans. I knew I was getting a bit tipsy, but I didn’t care. At the end of my second cosmopolitan, and idea formed. It was crazy, and bad, and stupid. But… I wanted to be crazy and band and stupid. I knew I needed Nick’s cooperation. I looked deep into his eyes with my hypnotist gaze.

“Nick, I want you to do something.” I said.

“Anything” Nick responded. He was so far gone tonight.

“There is a man at the bar in a blue tie. I want you to go to the bar and get me another Cosmo. Strike up a conversation with him. Make sure you somehow work in that your wife is a hypnotist. Do you understand?” I said.

“Yes, I understand”

“Good. Go now.” I said. Commanding him like this was getting me a little bit aroused. I did my best to not glance over at them while Nick was talking to the guy. He was probably up at the bar for a good 15-20 minutes, which was a good sign that he was likely successful in striking up a conversation.

When he finally came back, I asked him if he was successful in his task. He confirmed that he was. That part of my hastily put together plan was complete, now I just needed to wait for Mr. Blue Tie to get up to go to the bathroom. He had been sitting at the bar for like an hour, I knew it wouldn’t take long.

Sure enough, I only had to wait about ten minutes. I saw Mr. Blue Tie get up and turn towards the restroom. Of course, he snuck a few more glances at me. I knew this was my chance. I had to occupy Nick though. I told him to let his attention wander, to start noticing other things in the restaurant, etc. I told him he wouldn’t notice that I had left the table, and would keep just dazing off until I spoke to him again. It worked perfectly, I saw him start looking around as soon as I had said that.

With part two of the plan in play, I grabbed my fur coat from the back of my chair and slipped it on as I headed to the restroom. Mr. Blue Tie of course noticed this, as his eyes hadn’t really left me all night. Now, I will admit, I really felt the Cosmopolitans when I stood up. Wow, I was definitely a little drunk.

I was able to not stumble over to him though, which was impressive in the heels I was in. I caught him before the bathroom.

"Hi, I see you like this white fox coat I’m wearing”, I said to him as I got close, looking deep into his now… well, petrified eyes.

He tried to say something, probably to make an excuse. As soon as I saw him go to speak, I put my finger on his lips. “Shhhhh. It’s ok I know that you like it. It’s ok.”

I slowly removed my finger from his lips and then held my hand in front of his eyes for a moment. Slowly and seductively, I moved my fingers to the thick fox shawl collar. As I expected, his eyes never left my finger tips.  “That’s right. You are finding that you can’t look away from my gentle, soft caressing of the fur. You are finding that your eyes are locked on finger tips and you can`t look away. It may be that you just find the sight of my feminine hand caressing the thick, soft fur is so pleasant to look at. I`m very glad you find my fingers stroking the fur pleasing enough for you to want to watch me do it just like you`re doing right now. I’m ok with it, I’m letting you just stare, like you’ve wanted to. Just SSssoo natural to just want to reelllaax and watch me caress the fur. SSssoo natural... ssssoo natural to want to stare at me touching the fur and listen to my voice. Nothing unusual. Nothing but just reellaaxxing and staring like you`re doing, and listening to my voice. SSssoo easy....ssssoo natural....ssssoo rreeellaaxing..... reeellaaaxing.....” I could see his jaw was hanging open and his eyes looked glazed. I slowly moved my fingertips up to my face. His eyes followed and met mine. Now our eyes were locked, fixed. I then moved closer to him and placed my thumb on his forehead and my fingers on his head. Speaking to him in a soft, sexy tone of voice, I began to slowly rotate his head. “....reeellaaxing more and more as you look deep into my eyes. Deeper and Deeeeper into my eyes now. You find it impossible to look away from my eyes. You find it impossible to look away. My eyes pull you deeeeper and deeeeeper into them. Feel it...feel them pull you in deeeeper and deeeeeper. Down deeeep...down deeeep into my eyes and you love this feeling of just letting go and sinking...sinking...down deeeep....down deeeep into my eyes. Just let go now and sink all the way down...deep.....deeeeep....deeeeeep into reeellaaxing sleep... sleeeep....sleeeeeeeeeeep....” With that, he collapsed on to me. Slumped right on to my shoulder. I started to freak out, wondering if anyone at the restaurant was noticing what was going on, but it quickly faded away as I realized I needed to keep this moving quickly.

“Hearing only the sound of my voice. You will do exactly as I tell you to do. It feels so good to follow and obey. Now, stand up, open your eyes, but remain deep in hypnotic trance.” I told him.

He did so. Good. That was going to get awkward fast with him draped all over me. Plus, he was heavy.

“Now, I want you to answer me completely honestly, do you understand?”

“Yes” he responded quietly

“Good, that makes me very happy, and you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

“Yes” he responded earnestly.

“Goooood”, I cooed. “You are doing soo well. Now, what is your name?”

“Doug Stumbly”

“Good Doug. I’m pleased that you told me that. Do you like to please me Doug?”

“Yes”

“Good. So good. Are you sexually attracted to women in furs Doug?”

“Yes, women in white furs” he said

White furs. Ok. Geez, these guys and their fetishes are like, sooo specific. Being a guy must be so weird. Whatever. “Good Doug, very good. I am the most beautiful woman you have ever seen wearing a white fur live and in person, aren’t I?” I said/suggested.

“Yes” he responded. I knew it.

“Good, you are doing so well, you are making me happy and that makes you feel even more happy, and relaxed, and it allows you to sink even deeper into hypnosis for me. Now, tell me, are you rich?” I asked, now pretty damn bold.

“Yes”

“How?” I asked. Like, inheritance, hedge fund? I was curious.

“I own Stumbly Motor Group” he said.

Well well well. That could come in handy. Wait, I was getting ahead of myself. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“Were you ever?”

“Yes. Divorced”

“Do you live in Providence?”

“yes”

Frankly, I had more questions. I was pushing my luck here outside the bathroom though. I had to keep this show on the road. “Doug, in a moment, I am going to snap my fingers. You will awaken and take my phone. You will put your number in it. You will then go to the bathroom. When you are finished you will find the manager and pay for mine and my husband’s meal. When you get a text from Cynthia, your Fur Queen, you will obey the instructions completely, do you understand?”

“Yes” he said, then I snapped and handed him my phone. His eyes opened and he took my phone and entered his information. A smile came to my lips as I watched him.

I was definitely drunk, and I stumbled as I walked back to our table as Dougy-boy took a pee. I told Nick that he would follow me passively for the rest of the night, without thinking or questioning anything. Just so happy to be near me that nothing else mattered, nothing seems out of place. I said that as long as he is with me, everything is just fine. He was so deeply in my thrall at that point that he just went with whatever I said.

I looked over and saw him talking to the manager. The waiter came over and told us a gentleman had taken care of the bill for us. I smiled brightly and thanked him. I told Nick it was time to go, and that we were off to the hotel. Admittedly, in his zoned out state, I had to handle a few more of the arrangements than I would have liked. I was pretty drunk, so I knew I shouldn’t drive. I decided to leave the car in the garage it was already in and call an Uber to get us to the hotel. On the way there, I managed to check in via an app and got the room key sent to my phone. It was a pretty slick interactive feature, but it was hard as hell to do when hammered. I pulled it off though.

I texted Doug. Doug, this is Cynthia, your Fur Queen. Come to the Biltmore, room 427 at 10:00. Even in my drunken state, I couldn’t believe I was inviting… or should I say ordering… another man to our hotel room. This was pretty far out, even for the new me.

By the time we got into the room, it was already almost 10. I told Nick to sit on the bed and stare into space. I went into the bathroom and freshened up my make up and brushed my teeth. I also took off my clothes, leaving only my sexy underwear. Then I put back on the fur. I reapplied some perfume and there was a knock at the door.

I opened the hotel door wearing only the white fur coat and my sexy Victoria’s secret satin bra and panties. My coat was open as one of my arms rested on the door jam. I could see from Doug’s face that he was speechless. Frankly, a heart attack on this older guy was like a real concern at that moment.

“come in” I told him, walking away from the door. “close it” I commanded as he entered. He probably would have closed it anyway, but I was just throwing out another command because it felt good.

“Look, I really appreciate meeting you, but I – “ Doug started.

“Shhhhhh” I said as I turned to him, my fingers once again on his lips. This time, I applied pressure with my finger, pushing him. Pushing him down. Down to his knees. My eyes were locked on his. I felt the power coursing through me.

“Nick, get on your knees next to him. DO it now” I said. Nick passively slumped off the bed and hit his knees next to Doug.

“Both of you, stare at me!” I commanded as I backed up and stood in front of them. I grabbed a chair from little desk set up in the room and sat in front of them.

I was still drunk. Not only on alcohol, but on hypnotic, sexual power. “I want you to look at me. See only me.” I said to the awestruck men. ”In fact, I want you to think of me in this fur ... nothing else ...just concentrate on me ... use the beautiful fur coat as a focus to direct your mind so you can concentrate only on me ...... only of me .... nothing else .... not the sounds of the hotel around you ... not the others checked in here ... nothing matters to you, but me .... concentrate only on me..... concentrate on me ....."

I could tell they were both concentrating on me as instructed. It was such an odd situation, both for my husband, and this random dude I basically kidnapped. The wicked part of me laughed inside as I guessed that some part of both of them knew that something was wrong, that he shouldn’t let this happen. But I was going after them hard… and I knew guys like them were weak because of their fetishes.

"Think of me ... only of me ..... concentrate on the sound of my voice and my presence .... You are slipping into a deep . intoxicating hypnotic trance that I have crafted and you find you cannot stop your descent . With every second that passes you feel your will to resist me slipping away and your desire to obey me growing. You want to obey me. You NEED to obey me.... You desire to be my fur slave .. and each second your desire to serve me grows. Every second you look at me and listen to my voice brings you closer to total surrender. Feel your will power dissolve, with every word I speak to you. Feel your desire to be my fur slave grow. "

I could see that both of them were now sporting huge erections. That turned me on even more.

“nothing else else matters but your Fur Queen ..... my voice will lead you and you will follow ... follow me ..... OBEY me ...... you KNOW you want to follow me don't you ... you KNOW you want to obey me .... you want to obey my every command .... you want to be ENSLAVED by me don't you ... think about it and when you know it to be true repeat the words, My fur slaves ..... you WANT to obey me .... you WANT to be my fur slaves ....... say it .... what do you want....."

“to be your fur slave!” each man croaked out.

"Your MIND belongs to me,"  I said, as I started to stroke my own pussy. My speaking voice was now ragged as my breath quickened. “You are hypnotized., my pet. Hypnotized and enslaved by your Fur Queen"

Doug's mouth struggled to form words but he croaked out, " hyp ... no ... tized ....". Nick was just so far gone, he just stared with completely entranced eyes.

"And what do you want to do now, my Fur slaves?" I panted.

"I want to do any thing you command , " Doug said. Nick muttered “obey you Cynthia”. I felt myself on the edge of cumming.

"Then take out your cock and jerk off!” I yelled as I came. Both men obeyed without question. It was crazy. They both came almost instantly and almost in unison. Milky white fluids shooting up in the air. Each of their cum hitting both my leg (either the right or the left) and the floor below. It felt both cold and warm at the same time on my shin.

It was also so taboo, so crazy, so dominant. I was lost in some sort of control mongering haze. I looked at the two weak slaves in front of me. Each with so much power in their regular lives, but now my hypnotized obedient playthings. I laughed my wicked laugh again. I was so absolutely shit faced on power. “Lick it up!” I commanded. Each man immediately took one of my legs and gently started licking his own cum off of me.

Who. The. Fuck. Was I becoming?

[artificialqueens]

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 8 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

ao3 link

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

——

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I’m living for the only thing I know I’m running and not quite sure where to go And I don’t know what I’m diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I’m closer to where I started I’m chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

——

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

——

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[skateboardtotheheart]

Alex vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda

hello, everyone! i’ve been working on a fic titled “Alex vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda” for quite a long while, and i’m finally biting the bullet and posting the first chapter. this fic is based on the novel "Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda" by Becky Albertalli! it will be very closely based on the book, as well as some things from the movie "Love, Simon", and you may find dialogue or details that you recognize from either version of Becky Albertalli's story! i have no rights to the novel/movie or the JATP characters depicted in this fic. that said, there are a lot of details that are changed, and you'll be able to spot those really easily. this fic will be crossposted to my AO3 and can be located HERE. 

like i said, this fic has been a long time coming, and there is tons and tons i have planned for it. here on tumblr, i will be posting things like extra details, bonus content, and maybe some sneak previews! for now, let’s get into the fic!

SUMMARY: Alex Mercer is just like everyone else- only he has one huge ass secret. Nobody knows that he's gay, not even his closest friends and bandmates Luke, Reggie, and Julie. The only time he's ever mentioned it to someone, it was in an anonymous email chain with Ghost, another Los Feliz High School student. Alex can't risk coming out to anyone, but when his emails fall into the wrong hands, his secret is at risk of being thrust into a spotlight. Suddenly an already stressful junior year is all that more complicated as he juggles everyday drama, the school's annual band competition, blackmail, and trying not to lose his shot with the best guy he's ever met.

READ CHAPTER ONE BELOW THE CUT

Everything about this conversation is so out of the box of normal that I barely even register what's happening. Of course I'm the type of person who can't tell when this- something so crazy and awful and stressful and honest to God what the hell is happening- is going on. In my defense, Caleb Covington has never spoken to me before. I had no reason to assume that the first time he did, it would be to blackmail me.

We're taking a water break in the bleachers when Caleb saunters over. No greeting, no introduction- just words to send my entire junior year of high school spinning on its head.

"I read your email."

I swallow my water. "What?"

Caleb raises an eyebrow at me, and there's no other way to describe it but menacing. It's funny looking back on it all; I'd always heard Caleb was a really nice guy.

"I was in the library. And I read your email."

"You read my email?"

"Not on purpose. You really should have logged out of Gmail."

There's nothing I can do but stare at him, dumbfounded. What in the name of David Bowie is happening right now?

Caleb, thankfully, stops towering over me and takes a seat in the bleachers, a foot or so away. To anyone else, it might look like we're friends. To me, it feels like I can't breathe.

"Why the fake name?" Caleb asks, and my entire soul screams a wish that he would stop being so casual about this. 

I want to tell him that the point of a fake name is to keep people like Caleb Covington from knowing my secret. Way to freaking go, Alex. He must have seen me sitting at the computer like the monumental dumbass I am.

"Would it interest you to know my cousin is gay?"

"Um. No, Caleb. It really wouldn't."

He still has his eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face. If I focus hard enough- kind of impossible right now- I can picture Luke punching it right off his face.

"What do you want Caleb?"

This is the longest five minute water break of my life. 

"Look, Mercer, I don't have a problem with it. It's not a big deal."

Yes, it really is. It's a huge monster of a deal. This is the biggest disaster since Luke slammed his fingers in a door and couldn't play his guitar. 

"But. . ." Caleb drags out, and I can feel my leg bouncing quicker by the second. "It's pretty clear to me that you'd rather keep it all hush, hush."

I mean. Yeah. Kind of. The coming out thing doesn't scare me that much. Except it does. Because if people know then my parents will know and if my parents know then my whole family will know and if my whole family knows then I've become like a living, gay, everyone-finds-out version of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, and I'd rather die than have that happen. So maybe the coming out thing does scare me. But the biggest problem if people found out? 

Ghost.

I have absolutely no idea what it would mean for Ghost if Caleb was going to tell anyone. The thing about Ghost is he's a pretty private person. I bet he wouldn't forget to log out of his email so people like Caleb Covington wouldn't see it. I bet there's a good chance he'll never forgive me if he finds out about this. So really, I have absolutely no freaking clue what would happen to Ghost- to us.

And I'm still sitting in these stupid gym bleachers, the pink hydroflask Reggie bought me limp in my hand, desperately wishing Carrie would call an end to this godforsaken water break. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with Caleb right now. Why couldn't anyone else have logged into Gmail after me? Why was I so impatient to see if Ghost had emailed me back that I used the freaking school computers? Why did this stupid school insist on blocking the wireless so I had had no choice but to use the school computers? But it had been one of those days where I couldn't even wait to get out of dance practice to check my phone in my car.

I'd emailed Ghost this morning, and it had been a pretty big email. I was desperate to know if he'd emailed back.

I must have been just staring at Caleb for a while because he cocked his head at me and said, "Don't worry, Mercer. I'm not going to show anyone."

I take a relieved breath. Then my hydroflask finally slips from my fingers as I freeze, and the sound echoes through the gym. I don't even look at the rest of the dancers when their laughs break out.

"Show anyone?" I ask. 

Caleb leans in a little bit, smirk wider on his face. I feel sick.

"Did you- oh my god, did you screenshot my emails?"

"Yes, see, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"You took a fucking screenshot?" I hiss out, thankful I'd put my stuff farther away from the rest of the dance team today.

Caleb has the audacity to roll his eyes. "I've heard you're in a band with-"

"What the fuck does that have to do with- Let's go back to how you screenshot my email."

"Or you can shut up and listen to what I have to say." 

Something about the way Caleb's gaze catches you, it's hard to do anything but what he says. Fuck.

"I believe we may be in a position to help each other out."

Jesus Christ, what 18 year old talks like this?

"Why the hell would I do anything for you?"

It's a stupid question, I realize as he stares at me calmly. Calmly. Like this isn't the end of my life. Whatever he wants right now, it'll be in exchange. I do this, and he doesn't broadcast my private emails with Ghost to the entire student body.

All this time and I really thought Caleb was supposed to be this nice guy. Fuck me.

"You're going to make me do whatever you want?"

Caleb tsk'd like the condescending bastard he clearly is. "Well, now. I'm not making you do anything."

"But if I don't help you, you'll what? Post my emails on the fucking tumblr?"

LosFelizSecrets. The bane of every Los Feliz student's existence. Ground zero for more gossip than anyone in their right mind knows what to do with. A school of almost 3,000 kids but if it's on the tumblr, most people know within a day. A complete and utter hellscape disguised as a blog.

When Caleb stays quiet, I speak again. "What do you want from me, Caleb?"

He sneers. 

"Music of the Night."

Once again, I'm stuck staring at him. Music of the Night? That's what this is about?

"Your band is signed up, as is mine. The HGC lost to Dirty Candy last year, and I will not lose again this year."

Music of the Night is this competition Los Feliz holds every year as part of the music program. At the end of the year, there's this huge concert held at the Orpheum theatre in Hollywood. At the beginning of the school year, anyone can sign up. Then each band has 4 months to perform at school events, outside gigs and parties, and whenever they have an opportunity, really. During winter break, the student body votes on who the headliner of the concert will be. Last year, the headliner was Dirty Candy. Because they won last year, they're out of the running this year and are in charge of organization and things for the concert. This year, I was hoping the headliner would be Julie and the Phantoms. My band. Caleb and his band HGC has entered the competition every year, and he's never won. He's a senior, and I know this will be his last chance. I also know who his biggest competition is. 

Us.

"So. . . what? You want me to sabotage my own band?"

I feel breathless and dizzy as I ask. Caleb just shrugs casually.

"Whatever you need to do. So long as it's my band that gets the votes. Like I said, I think we can help each other out. Think about it."

Caleb winks- he actually winks- and walks away. I stare dumbly after him. No way. No, I'm not doing this. I can live with being outed. Right? 

But my thoughts travel to Ghost. Because he's a part of this, too. He goes to Los Feliz, and he's my age, and he uses a fake name, and he's not out. 

Ghost isn't out, and Caleb has my emails.

Fuck.

----------

Any hope I have of forgetting about that stupid conversation clearly isn’t worth it. I have an hour before dinner, and right now I’m basically willing to do anything to avoid my family. Trying to talk to my parents is exhausting. You can’t just get away with telling them your day was good or bad. No, you have to ring out every excruciating little detail. Everything that happens in my or my siblings’ life, they want to know about it. In all honesty, I used to love telling them all that stuff. Now I can’t get away from them fast enough. Especially today. I’m barely in the house long enough to put my backpack in my room before I’m slipping out the back door and leaving again. 

I try to drown out my thoughts with Axl Rose screaming into my earbuds. But my mind is stuck on Ghost, emails, and Caleb freaking Covington. Caleb wants to win Music of the Night. I can’t exactly blame him for that. Everyone wants to win it. 

Except he’s blackmailing me. And by extension, he’s blackmailing Ghost. And that makes me want to hyperventilate a little bit. Maybe go scream somewhere. 

But Axl Rose is helping. The familiar route of walking to Luke’s is helping. We don’t get much of a fall in LA, but the air feels a little crisper in mid October, and I can already see the houses that are getting ready for Halloween. 

When I reach Luke’s house, I don’t even bother going through the front door. I just cut through his backyard and head through the backdoor right next to Luke’s bedroom. I hear them before I see them. Reggie’s laugh fills the air, paired with a frustrated groan from Luke. They’re sitting side by side on Luke’s bed, facing the small tv with some video game I’ve never seen on the screen. They look like they haven’t moved in hours. Luke pauses the game as soon as he sees me, waving, and I can’t help but smile a little bit. The guy won’t put down his guitar for you, but he’ll pause a video game or movie without a second thought. 

“Great, you’re here! Tell Luke he’s shit at this game and he should let me play Mario Kart.”

I roll my eyes, “Dance was great, Reg. Thanks for asking.”

Reggie sticks out his tongue, and I crack a smile. This is the most comfortable I’ve felt all afternoon. I throw myself into the beat up bean bag chair Luke keeps in his room.

“Luke, you’re shit at this game and Reggie wants to play Mario Kart.”

Luke gapes at me, a betrayed gleam in his eyes, but I just shrug. Luke grumbles a bit as he gets up to switch out the game, and Reggie whoops in victory. I let out a soft sigh. I think I needed this. The chaos of Reggie and Luke playing whatever game, the strange mix of leather, Axe, and his mom’s Hawaiian Breeze cleaner that makes Luke’s room smell awful and entirely wonderful at the same time, and the familiarity of Luke and Reggie. Everything just fits right when I’m with them. 

As Luke sets up the game, Reggie looks at me excitedly. “Alex, Luke hasn’t heard about le wedgie.”

I snort a little, “Ah, yes. Le wedgie. C’est une histoire touchante.”

I don’t know why Reggie bothered to wait for me to tell the story; he’s the far better storyteller between us. Maybe it’s just because I’m better at French. 

Luke stares at me, “English, please?”

Reggie and I thought we’d be fancy and take something fun like French for our required language credits. Luke decided to take something actually useful and learn sign language. This story is stupid, and my reenactment is stupid, but it feels kind of perfect. Like Caleb and secrets are all things of my imagination, and nothing exists but this bedroom and me, Luke, and Reggie. Benefits of having known these dorks since elementary school, I guess. 

About as they finish the second race in Mario Kart, Luke lets out a yawn. Reggie reacts so quickly I barely realize what he’s doing. He grabs a crumpled up Hershey’s Kiss wrapper from Luke’s nightstand and throws it into Luke’s mouth. Luke sees it just in time to clamp his mouth shut. Reggie sighs in defeat, but shrugs.

“Keep yawning, I’ll get you one of these times.”

“Why are you so tired?”

“Because I party real hard. All night, every night, baby,” Luke says, slamming Reggie’s bike with a green turtle shell. 

“Alone in your room with your guitar. Some party that is,” Reggie retaliated with a bomb thrown in Luke’s direction. 

As the race finishes Luke yawns again, and Reggie’s Kiss wrapper bounces off his cheek. 

“I just keep having these weird dreams,” he explains. 

I raise my eyebrows. “TMI, dude.”

“Not that kind of dream!” Luke tosses the wrappers at me, Reggie cackling beside him. 

Luke starts explaining his dream- something about every time he started playing his guitar his cord had magically unplugged itself from his amp- and Reggie and I just share a look. We were used to Luke being in his weird, feels-the-need-to-analyze-everything moods. But even after all these years, it was almost like a movie, watching Luke get so weirdly passionate about things- music and otherwise. It made me glad that Luke was a brother to me by everything but blood. Partly because if he wasn’t, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from falling for him. And I have a strict policy about not falling for straight guys.

To everyone but me and Reggie- immune to him after knowing pretty much every thought that’s ever gone through his head since elementary school- there’s this pull to Luke. Like he casts a spell that has everyone in a 10 mile radius tripping at his feet and each and every girl swooning. Poor Julie is not immune to the spell, it seems. Lucky for her though, Luke doesn’t seem immune to her either. 

It took barely a few weeks into the school year before I noticed Luke switching seats with Willie Meyers at lunch to increase the odds he’d end up right next to Julie. Then there’s that stupid, puppy-dog, love-sick look in his eyes that Luke gets every time he thinks Julie isn’t looking. And it’s not like Reggie and I haven’t put up with a pining Luke before, but everything seems a little different with Julie. It makes me think of Ghost. 

Would I look like that if I saw him in person? Would he look at me like that? 

If Caleb leaks my emails and Ghost hates me forever, I don’t think I’ll ever find out.

-----------

chapter one complete!

i'll let everyone know right now that i have no clear updating schedule for this fic; it's kind of hard to write and get down the way i want, so i'm not sure how long anything will take me. but it is summer break for me, so hopefully you'll all start seeing consistent posting of new chapters!

i hope you all liked this first chapter, or are at least intrigued to read some more. as i said in the starting notes, this will be cross posted to my AO3! Feel free to leave me a comment here if you would like, or head over there if you have any comments about the fic at any point! feel free to send me a message/ask on here if you have any questions or comments, too! my inbox is open any time <3

if anyone would like me to start a tag list, let me know and i’ll get that done right away!

this fanfic is definitely my baby, so i really hope you guys all like it as much as i do!

thanks <3

[moonlit-jeno]

love sick

Chapter 7- Donghyuck

pairing: nct dream ‘00 line + reader

genre/warnings: angst, character death, mentions of blood/ vomit

words: 2k

summary:

Donghyuck tells himself that it’s the merciful thing to do.

masterlist | prev | next

When Donghyuck is six, Mark Lee is seven. It’s not a big difference, that one year, but it’s enough to give Mark that sense of superiority that the older kids always have. and Donghyuck had just wanted to play on the swings, had just wanted to touch the sky like he’d seen the other kids doing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Donghyuck looks over his shoulder, the chains still bunched in his fists as he tries to figure out how to get onto the seat. The other kids can do it, so he can do it.

Donghyuck opens his mouth to answer, but the question’s rhetorical. “You’re not going on the swings, are you?”

He nods. The boys standing with Mark laugh, one of them falling to the floor in hysterics. Donghyuck’s eyes fill with tears, but his mom had told him to be strong so he refuses to let them fall. “Can you even reach the swing?” Mark grabs the piece of plastic, yanking it out of Donghyuck’s hands and lifting it out of reach. “Go on then, didn’t you say you wanted to swing?”

It’s cruel and obviously Donghyuck isn’t going to win, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He jumps with his face burning, reaching for the swing. The boys all laugh and Donghyuck feels the tears start to spill, frustration and embarrassment clawing at his insides.

“Aww, he’s crying? Look at this, he’s crying!” Mark laughs, throwing his head back.

“Give him the swing.” The voice comes from behind him and Donghyuck lifts his head and looks over, surprised to see a boy even smaller than him. He’s short and skinny with a weird hair cut, but his eyes are sharp and his hands are clenched into fists.

Mark looks at the new boy curiously. “Or what? I’m older than you, do you know what that means? I get to do whatever I want.”

The new boy just rolls his eyes, bending low to pick up a handful of woodchips. “No it doesn’t. It means that you’re going to give him the swing back.”

He pulls his arm back like he’s getting ready to throw the woodchips and Mark’s eyes widen. He lets go of the swing and runs away with his friends right behind him.

Donghyuck watches him run before turning to look at the boy. “Why’d you do that?”

“You looked scared.” The boy shrugs. The girl who’d been on the second swing gets off and renjun replaces her, plopping down on the seat easily and starting to pump his legs. Donghyuck watches in awe.

“What’s your name?” He should’ve asked earlier, and he knows his mom would be yelling at him for not having manners, but he’s forgetful.

The boy looks at him for a moment before extending his hand. “Renjun.”

It’s been twelve years since he first sat on the swings with Renjun, and he can still see that day as clear as if it happened yesterday. Donghyuck’s never had a great memory. That’s why he’d struggled with school, why his skin would be filled with marker scribbles reminding him to “grab groceries” or “tell Jeno happy birthday”. It’s not that he’s stupid, it’s just that there’s always so much going on, he can’t possibly be expected to remember that many things.

And in his 18 years of life, there are few memories that stand out as vividly as that one does. A dry sob leaves him when he realizes that that might be the only clear memory he’ll have left of his best friend. Well, the only good clear memory.

He takes a deep breath and looks over to where Renjun is sitting on the lawn of a house they’d haphazardly checked, staring blankly ahead of him. You and Jaemin are sitting at the kitchen table, pretending that you can’t hear Jeno in the bathroom where he’s crying so hard that he’s throwing up.

Donghyuck’s stomach is twisting so violently that he wishes he was throwing up, but all he can do is stand there numbly and think about the fact that he’s about to lose his best friend. He can’t even imagine what Renjun’s thinking as he sits there alone, picking at his ankle.

He’d never seen Renjun like this before, though he’s also never seen Renjun stare death in the eyes. The normally level headed boy had started screaming out of nowhere in the car, throwing himself against the door and yelling for you to get away from him. Donghyuck had thought that he was joking, but nothing any of them said had calmed him down.

“Fuck, what’s happening?” Jaemin asked, the car swerving as he turned around to see the commotion.

“You can’t- you can’t be around me!” Renjun was screaming, drawing into himself.  “I’m a fucking zombie!”

And of course, none of them knew what was happening because Renjun was still Renjun, he wasn’t trying to rip their faces off. Donghyuck remembers the exact look of confusion he had exchanged with Jeno as he pulled you into his lap and away from the distressed boy. He remembers thinking that maybe everything was just registering now, that Renjun was having a delayed reaction. And then he saw the cut.

A small scratch, no longer than an inch, on renjun’s ankle. It looked like the type of cut Donghyuck sometimes got when he got careless and forgot to trim his nails for too long. Except, of course, for the way that the veins along his ankle were black. The limb seemed to be pulsing, too, throbbing in a way so unnatural it seemed fake.

You all saw it, except for Jaemin, who was driving maniacally, looking frantically from the road to Renjun as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“He grabbed my ankle.” Renjun explained later, once he’d calmed down. Jaemin had only driven for another 15 minutes before they’d found a house that seemed decently safe, tires squealing as he pulled into the driveway. “I was running from the greenhouse and he grabbed my ankle but- but I thought it was okay, I thought I got away. He must’ve- he must’ve broken the skin without me noticing.”

Renjun’s last sentence had ended with a sob and Donghyuck’s heart squeezed so tightly that he thought he was going to die right then. You’d all looked at each other helplessly, so clueless as you tried to figure out what to do.

“You have to shoot me.” Renjun had said, looking Donghyuck directly in the eyes. “You can’t let me turn into a zombie, please.”

Donghyuck had held his gaze, throat thick with tears, and nodded. Jaemin had been begging, pleading with Renjun as if Renjun was in control of anything, as if Jaemin saying “please, no” would cause Renjun to say “well, since you said please” and be fine.

“Can’t we just amputate it?” You’d asked, voice frantic. “Only the veins in your ankle are black, it might not have spread that far.”

“Yeah, but I also might turn into a zombie and kill all of you.” Renjun had shot back, shaking his head. “We can’t take that chance.”

It’s the merciful thing to do, Donghyuck tells himself. He doesn’t want Renjun to suffer. He most certainly can’t let him live as a zombie. But he also- how is he supposed to shoot his best friend?

That had been an hour ago, and Donghyuck doesn’t know how much time they have. He figures there can’t be much left. The gun is heavy in his hands, and he takes a couple of deep breaths before he turns to you and Jaemin. “Go tell Jeno I’m doing it.”

Donghyuck doesn’t wait for the others before walking outside, tears falling steadily down his cheeks. Renjun turns to face him and the sight he makes is heartbreaking. His knees are drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. His face is pale and his eyes are puffy, cheeks stained with tears.

“Renjun,” He starts, pausing to collect himself when his voice breaks. “Renjun, I love you.”

The other boys shakes as a sob leaves him, nodding forcefully. “Love you, Hyuck.” A pause, a sniff, a laugh. “I’m glad I was the one to teach you how to swing.”

And that absolutely breaks him, knowing that that same memory he was just thinking about is also engraved in Renjun’s mind. “I hate you for making me do this.” He isn’t supposed to say that, but it slips out anyways.

Renjun manages a weak smile. “Take care of everyone, Hyuck. I’m ready.”

Donghyuck raises the gun as Renjun closes his eyes. He starts a mental countdown, breathing as best as he can through his runny nose. Renjun turns his head just as he’s about to shoot. “Hyuck? Everyone includes you, too.” Donghyuck doesn’t respond, just waits for Renjun to close his eyes again

He pulls the trigger.

Blood splatters all over the grass and there’s a moment where Renjun remains sitting. Donghyuck panics, wondering if his best friend has already turned, but then his body falls limp against the ground. Donghyuck stares at Renjun for a moment before spinning around and promptly puking all over the red stained grass. 

You’re all crying when Donghyuck walks back into the house. Jeno has blood dripping from his knuckles, a few scratches on his forearms, and Donghyuck knows that he would find the mirror shattered into a thousand different pieces if he were to walk into the bathroom. There’s a towel blocking the little window, blocking the scene just outside the house, and he stares at the cloth blankly.

And Donghyuck feels the wetness of his face, he knows that he just killed his best friend, but at the same time, he doesn’t feel anything. He sets the gun down and it makes a hollow noise, but even that doesn’t feel real.

He registers you sobbing, babbling about how it’s your fault and that they shouldn’t have fought. Jaemin’s holding you tightly, jeno stroking your hair. and then all of the sudden he is feeling something, all of his hurt and guilt manifesting into something uglier.

“Do you ever do anything besides cry?” Donghyuck snaps. The three of you look up at him in confusion. “Jesus Christ y/n, you’re so fucking self important. I just shot my best friend in the whole wide world. I’m never going to get to see him again, because of you, and what’s the best that you can do? Sit here and pity yourself?”

He doesn’t recognize his voice, barely even hearing himself as he continues. “God, we should’ve never fucking stayed at your house in the first place. I wish we never fucking met you.”

Jaemin lets out a warning call of his name, Jeno shaking his head pointedly. He scoffs, turning his attention to the two boys. “What, you’re going to tell me that I’m wrong? What good has she done for us? Look at the two of you.” Donghyuck motions between them. “You’re best friends, practically soulmates, and what’s the first big fight you get into? You’re really going to argue over her?”

He steps up close to the table now, and you stare up at him silently, eyes swollen and glazed over with tears. “You really tried to play four separate guys, huh. And look what happened. Renjun’s dead because of you, you fucking whore.”

“That’s enough.” Jeno says, stepping up closer to Hyuck. his voice is level but his arms are crossed and even Jaemin’s glaring at him.

Donghyuck steps back, hands held up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just telling the truth. Even now she’s got you whipped, turning you against me.”

“No, Hyuck, you’re just being an asshole.” Jeno shoots back at the same time that Jaemin says “You should go lay down.”

He rolls his eyes, casting one long look at each of you before scoffing. “Fine, whatever. But she’s gonna lead us straight into hell, and you two are going to follow her blindly.” Donghyuck spins on his heel, not feeling better in the slightest as he leaves the room.

They don’t respond

[bookocd]

Light As Air Chapter 5

Alright I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope it makes a couple of you chuckle. Thank you for reading and if anyone wants to be added to the tag list let me know!

Tag List:

@wxstedhexrt

Summary:

In the aftermath of Kingdom of Ash, Fenrys finds himself connected with a mysteriously powerful fae female. With the confusion of her past and vast amount of power, the Aelin’s court becomes weary of Fenrys’s involvement. 

Fenrys is still reeling after Connall’s death and while joining Aelin’s court has been a dream, his nightmares are still plagued by Maeve. 

Vel will do anything to get the help she needs, but her past controls her emotions, and her hopes for the future clouds her judgement. 

Maybe together they can mend what has been broken, but Vel’s strange origins will continue to keep them apart. 

Link to Master list!

Chapter 5:

The plan was to let him think she was sleeping.

The plan was to wait for him to leave.

The plan was to sneak out of this room and out of the castle and never come back. 

Plans fucking change. 

Looking at Fenrys was the equivalent of looking into the sun. It hurt, but you couldn’t stop yourself. This was the only reason she allowed him to maneuver her into the position they were in now. She knew that his training ran deep and when she loosened her hold ever so slightly on his hand that he would take the opportunity to gain back his dominance. 

The new plan was to look at him and then throw him off of the bed all together. It only took one shift of her lower body and legs, and then he would be on his ass. 

Vel found herself unable to buck him off, because she couldn’t stop staring. The scars on his face were now just subtle red lines and somehow the almost nonexistent scars allowed him to look real. Vel had never seen someone who looked as perfect as him. Given that she had never met more than five people in her life, until recently, but the characters in her books had nothing on the male hovering a couple of inches from her face. 

“Are you going to behave if I let your arms go?” His voice brought Vel out of her thoughts. 

A rough laugh filled the chamber and she flashed him her teeth in anger. He was speaking to her as if she were a small child. “Probably not,” she gritted out.

“Then I guess we are at a standstill sweetheart.”

“Do not call me that.”

His eyes shone and she knew her mistake. He would never stop calling her that now, but her emotions got the best of her. The only person that had ever called her that was her father. 

Fenrys made to speak again, but Vel beat him to it. 

“Is this how you like your women? Pinned down, unable to move?” Her taunt was gross, uncalled for, and only said for the purpose of getting him off balance. His hands let go of her arms almost immediately and his face went completely blank. 

It was a look of utter nonexistence, a look of nothingness. Vel just watched, eyes wide, as the warrior in front of her started the shake. His breathing started to quicken and then he was across the room. Vel sat up and looked upon the male. He was sliding down the brick wall while hyperventilating, eyes glazed over, like he was living in a nightmare. 

Knowing the signs of a panic attack and having personal experiences with them, Vel slowly walked over to where the male now had his head in-between his knees. 

“Breath, just breath,” she started to say as calmly as possible. “You are safe. Try to slow your breathing.” Nothing happened. “I need to know how to help you. Please tell me how to help you.” The whimper she heard from him nearly broke her heart. She kept repeating commands of breathing, but she realized that maybe he was more like her than she realized. There was only one thing that would get her out of a severe state like this. 

She knew what she had to do.

—

Fenrys didn’t know how he got here. His panic attacks never came on this fast and never with someone else in the room. He was happy with keeping his problems to himself, but with peace came more time for thought. His thoughts were never good and neither were his memories. 

He faintly heard Vel speaking to him, but it wasn’t his humiliation that kept him from looking up at her. It was the fact that for one second, she turned into another black haired female. He had been in that position before, many times and never with his consent. Her commands came back to him in a flood and then he was transported to a lavish room in Doranelle being forced to be the whore the whole city thought him to be. 

His thoughts of Maeve’s face were interrupted by a hand on his knee. Still not looking up he tried to focus on the voice in front of him, instead of the sultry voices of the past. 

“I was really young when magic was taken away and so many magical families and fae were killed. My father felt the only way to ensure my safety was to keep me in a secret cellar at all times. It wasn’t until I was 13 that I was allowed out of the cellar, 15 when I was allowed outside of the cabin, and 17 when my father allowed me to travel with him. He had finally deemed me mature enough and smart enough to know I would die if anyone found out what I was. This is only relevant to the story, because I need you to know that I was fucking stupid when it came to social interaction and normal everyday activities having to do with people.” She huffed out a slight laugh and slowly but surely his breathing started to slow as she continued talking.

“I went into a village with my father, so we could gather some food and because he finally got fed up with me pestering him everyday about getting out of that cabin. This town was larger and had both an Inn and connecting bath house, along with a farmers market and several small shops. It was far enough from Orynth that it wasn’t attacked, it wasn’t valuable enough to pillage, and definitely not large enough to be a threat, so they were left mostly alone. I stayed quiet with my head down and tried to slouch as I walked, to hide both my teeth and unnatural tallness, but still people were kind to me and I actually enjoyed myself. At one point toward the end of our journey my father wanted to talk to an elderly man about his book collection, which ended up taking hours. Once he got talking about books, nobody could stop him.” It was at the sad tone that Fenrys finally looked up. Her hand was still on his leg, tethering him to the real word, and there were tears in her eyes. When she met his gaze a small smile formed on her lips. He still couldn’t speak, but he pleaded, with his eyes, for her to continue and she seemed to know what he was asking. 

“I started to get stir crazy and reckless. I also had never had a real bath. The closest I got was a stream by our house, which was not the same thing. It was getting late and the most people had already gone home or to the pub in the main floor of the small inn. I thought I could be quick, in and out, so I headed over toward the bath house.” Her hand finally left his knee and covered her face as a blush was slowly creeping across her cheeks. 

Through her hands he could barely hear the smothered words. 

“I also need to tell you that I was wearing boys clothing because… well, that’s a story for a different day.”

His heart soared at hearing her talk about the future, even if she probably hadn’t meant it. 

“So yea, I walked toward the bath house and when I went inside no one was in the main room and there were only two doors leading to the baths. The wall with the two doors was covered with a huge landscape painting of a Terrasen forest in the winter. To this day I can still picture it, the snow covered evergreens and mountainous background. Anyways I didn’t see any difference between the two so I just decided, without using any common fucking sense, to walk into the left door.”

Her eyes peaked out in-between mangled fingers at Fenrys, but he still wasn’t quite sure where this story was going. With a huff she dropped her hands and all but yelled, “I saw penis’s okay!?”

His eyes widened as she went on. “In the artwork on the wall connecting to the baths, there was a doe on the right door and a buck on the left, to signify which door was for which gender. This only became clear when I walked in to see all the farm hands, who apparently all bathe together after a hard days work instead of going home, which is what I thought they did. There was at least 12 men spread about the room. In the actual water, lounging in chairs, wiping themselves off with towels, but all fucking naked. I saw several different cock’s and I looked like a boy so no one covered themselves when I walked in. The asked me to JOIN THEM! I was mortified and scarred for life, and I ran out. When I finally found my father, who hadn’t realized I had left, we walked home in silence and he asked me several times what was wrong. Of course I said nothing, but later that night I found myself asking my brother what the average size of a penis was and ended up telling him the whole story. He laughed so hard that fell out of a chair. I never spoke of it since, well except for right now. So yea… penis’s. That’s the end of my story.” 

Fenrys didn’t know what to say, so instead he burst out into a fit of laughter. 

“You’re fucking k-kidding with me-e?” He managed to get out in-between wheezes. 

Her miserable face was enough to answer his question, but she nodded and said, “And apparently, from the information my brother gave me, they were all rather unimpressive.” 

“Oh. My. Gods.” Clutching his stomach his laugh worsened and he keeled over onto his side, tears blurring his vision. She started to laugh with him slightly and covered her mouth with a hand, but her eyes gave away her smile. 

“Fenrys it’s not funny. I couldn’t close my eyes for weeks, because all I saw were small flaccid dicks.” 

All of a sudden everything was silent. He quickly righted himself and just stared at her. The laughter was gone, some tears were still falling down his cheeks, chasing each other. Her smile vanished and a worried look replaced it. 

“What did I say. I’m sorry about what I said before, I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to get you flustered so I could kick you off, but I know it was wrong and I just—“ Fenrys cut her rambling off with a hand to her impossibly soft cheek. 

This female had successfully gotten him out of a panic attack, made him laugh like he hasn’t in over 100 years, and then when she said his name it was like the sun parting two storm clouds. A sun that was now shining down on him. 

“You said my name,” was all he said. He dropped his hand when she started to look guarded again. “Well that was the worst story I have ever heard and I think I have doubts about your observation skills.” 

“I was 17, I’ve learned a lot since then,” her taunting tone coming back in full force. 

“I’m sure you have, but I’m still going to go around the city and write Male and Female on all of the bath house doors.”

Her laughter fell around him like silk.

“You are not!” She said still laughing, but they both were turning as the chamber door opened. 

—

Vel tried not to think about the story she had shared with him, the mention of her family almost sent herself over the edge, but she had the strangest urge to help him, even if that meant hurting herself. She also was trying and failing to stop thinking about the look her gave her after she spoke his name aloud for the first time. The look was so warm and the absence of lust is what struck her. It had nothing to do with him being sexually attracted to her, which was evident in his hardness that he had tried to hide earlier, and he was definitely larger than those men in the bath house all those years ago. A lot larger. 

She was very thankful when the door opened, cutting off her laughter at his last comment. She watched as the head of the queen popped out from behind the door. The shock was clear on her face at seeing Fenrys and Vel both sitting on the ground and there was no way she hadn’t heard them laughing, but she quickly schooled her face into one of neutrality. 

“I hate to break up the party, but dinner is being served and I wanted to see if either of you wanted to join.” She then looked directly at Vel and continued, “Or if you are still not feeling well, we can have someone bring something up for you.” 

Vel was shaken by the kindness, and almost agreed to come down, but she was not ready to face their whole court yet. Not after what happened with her powers and what had just happened with Fenrys, so she said, “Thank you, but I think I should probably head home. I already feel as though I have taken too much of your time and kindness, and do not want to be a burden any longer.”

“You haven’t eaten anything all day, so you will not be leaving to go walking through the forest at night. I will have someone bring food up to you and if you try to leave, which I seriously doubt you are strong enough to do so, we will have someone guard your door.” The voice was that of a queen, but Vel knew that she wasn’t keeping her here to make sure she was okay, but to make sure that the kingdom was safe, from an uncontrolled powerful fae female. 

Vel just nodded and Aelin relaxed slightly. Fenrys then stood and put a hand out to help Vel do the same. Without looking at the queen he said, “Aelin I will meet you downstairs in a couple of minutes. Don’t let Lorcan and Rowan eat all of the meat.”

Aelin let out a small laugh and left mumbling something about bastard fae males and their bottomless pits they called stomachs. 

Alone again, Vel looked to Fenrys and suddenly felt exposed. She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around her waist. His lips angled downward, as if he was unhappy. 

Even with the light gone from his face he still his voice still managed to flow with warmth as he spoke. “Thank you for helping me.” He continued, but sounded more unsure, “The others don’t know about… um my… uh episodes. I don’t think it will come up, but if we… could um keep that between us.”

“I would never tell anyone and thanks are not necessary,” she said and watched him nod and turn toward the door. She didn’t move as he turned back towards her. 

“How did you know that telling me that story would work?” 

“It’s what my father used to do for me, when I went through the same thing.” His eyebrows raised at the admission, but wisely didn’t ask her to say anything further. He closed the door with a small smile.

Vel turned back toward the bed and sat down. She hadn’t realized how tired she was and would probably fall back asleep before her food was delivered.

She had only just laid down when she heard a knock at the door. Shooting up into a sitting position she watched the door open and Fenrys’s head to come back into view. He cocky grin was back and she felt relieved at the more normal behavior. 

“Oh and Vel, I want you to know that fae males have quite a significant difference in average length than that of human men.” Her eyebrows raised. “And for scientific and comparative purposes only, I would gladly show you one above average, even for fae.”

The door closed quickly as a pillow went hurling through the air and hit the door with a thud. 

[calliecat93]

So… been a while since I did one of these. Yeah, long story short 2020 just ruined my anxiety and a bunch of other things and I just couldn’t handle doing the reviews after I feel so behind during the first half of V8. Even the six-week break didn’t do anything to reignite the motivation or help the anxiety, so I decided it was best to quit and just wait for the volume to be over. Which with how emotionally draining the volume was which may have very well impaired my judgment at the time, was probably the best decision. But V8 has been over for months now and we’re awaiting V9. So it’s time to finally finish this.

I normally do one chapter per review, but since I now know all that’s coming, I’m going to do two chapters per review. That means four total reviews, then a mass V8 review, and then hopefully things go better when V9 starts. So last I left off, we got Cinder backstory, the Ace-Ops running into YJR, and Salem breaking Atlas’ shields to finally go forward with her invasion. The dark times are upon Atlas and our heroes are running out of time. So… what happens now? Well, let's find out.

Overview

I normally break down everything moment by moment, but we’re gonna keep it brief since there’s a lot to cover.

In War as Salem’s attack marches forward, all of our heroes are in a bind. RWB wants to help Atlas while May wants to return to Mantle and points out that they can’t have both. Nora is still in need of a doctor, which causes Whitley, who overheard, to call in a character that we haven’t seen in quite a while. With JYR, they were captured by the Ace-Ops, who has now been tasked to use a bomb to blow up the whale. Our heroes negotiate with Winter to allow them time to go in and rescue Oscar and causes Ren to make an unexpected discovery. Meanwhile, in the whale, Emerald overhears Oscar/Oz again pleading to Hazel to see reason, even going as far as to give him the password to the Lamp. Not for Salem, for Hazel. This causes Emerald’s doubts to become even more concerning and with Mercury leaving with Tyrian for Vacuo and Cinder focused solely on her quest for power, she is left alone to decide what she wishes to do.

In RWBY’s 100th chapter Dark, we are at the Schnee Manor where the power blows out. But when they recall that they have an emergency generator, Whitley realizes that they can use the SDC to get supplies to the Mantle refugees. Ruby and Blake go to restore the power as Ruby is still struggling to maintain her usual optimism, but they encounter a Grimm in the process. Specifically, The Hound. Meanwhile, Penny, who crash-landed in front of the Manor last episode, tries to maintain control as Watts’ virus goes into effect. During the battle, it ends with Ruby discovering The Hound. One that utterly horrifies her…

Review

Okay, there is a LOT to go over with these two chapters, So let’s break this down event by event.

Monstra

Let’s discuss our villains first since we have some pretty major developments. First, we have Hazel. We had just about everything that I had assumed before confirmed. The reason that Hazel works for Salem isn’t merely just because she claims to want a new world order. Honestly, I think that Hazel just fooled himself to justify his decision to himself. No, as he talks to Ozcar, the truth becomes crystal clear. Hazel has given up. He confronted her once, and all that happened was she kept coming back until he was too exhausted to fight anymore. She broke him. Fighting her was futile and by taking advantage of this, Salem set him on the only path that he had left: getting revenge on Ozpin. Even though he’ll reincarnate, he can still be hurt. He can still be killed. He can still suffer. It was all that Hazel had left, and it consumed him.

As much as I know that some had issues with Hazel’s backstory, losing your sibling to circumstances that weren’t really anyone’s fault but you still feel so angry that you just need to blame something is very understandable. I’ve been in that place. I think that many of us have. And to learn that he did try to fight Salem at first but in the end, gave up due to her immortality… can you imagine how many others likely went down that route? Wanting to fight Salem but when the horrible truth came out were left empty? RWBY went through it in V6 and barely recovered, so it’s easy to see where Hazel is coming from. It’s easy to see why he won’t believe Oz when he tells him what Salem’s true goal, the release of death via summoning the Gods judgment, is. Oscar takes over and reveals the password, trusting Hazel to decide for himself what to do. Not Salem, Hazel. Will it pay off? Only time will tell.

But Hazel isn’t the only one privy to this new information. Emerald overheard all of it. Whatever fears that she had were all confirmed. Mercury is dismissive, both not believing it (until Tyrian confirms it) and even if he did, points out that Hazel failed and fell into line. It’s going to take time for the assassin to change his mind. As far as he’s concerned, he’s on top of the world, or at least in the best place that he can be in. Better than when he was with Marcus at least. Emerald though? She’s been doubtful and scared since at least the end of V3, even earlier if we count the flashbacks in Beginning of the End. The only thing that has kept her around along with the fear of Salem has been her devotion to Cinder. But with how Cinder has been coldly dismissive of her thus far this volume and now knowing that she’s part of something far worse than she imagined, it looks like Emerald may be deciding that it’s not worth it anymore. The question is, will she act before it’s too late? With Mercury off to Vacuo, she’s on her own to make that choice.

The villains’ stuff is mainly setup for Chapter 9 but it’s good stuff. We’re getting everything in place for the many payoffs that we’ve been waiting a long time for. Many of us have been hoping for Emerald to defect. While IDT as many have wanted the same for Hazel, he’s certainly the nobler of his buddies and has shown signs of possible redemption, so I’ve been hoping for it. Oz and Oscar’s efforts seem to be paying off and Oscar taking over and playing a huge gamble is pure excellence. It’s both Oz trusting the boy and working in tandem with him showing how he is genuinely trying to be better and showing Oscar’s growth with his more diplomatic skills here. It failed to work on Ironwood, but perhaps this time he’ll have better luck.

JYR and the Ace-Ops

Like with the villains, their stuff is contained all within War. But boy do we have plenty to go over. With Atlas in utter chaos, to the point of all the citizens having to hide in a subway, Ironwood has decided to have Winter and her team bomb Monstra. Which makes sense… except that Oscar’s in there. Needless to say, JYR isn’t happy about that. But Harriet, Elm, and Vine remain committed to their ‘we have no feelings’ routine. Even though it’s so obvious that they’re lying through their teeth. Ren’s Semblance confirmed it, but it’s not hard to tell. Elm and especially Harriet are hiding their feelings through their anger and doubling down on following orders. Vine does try to remain reasonable, but otherwise retains his emotionless demeanor. Marrow… he just clearly doesn't want to be there anymore. He’s still trying to remain comitted to what he’s doing, but this and Chapter 9 are going to be changing that big time

And WInter? Oh Lord Winter. She wants to do the right thing but is bound to her loyalty and duty to Ironwood and Atlas, and she doesn’t know which one to follow. Her orders? Or her heart? The choice may seem like a no-brainer to us, but to Winter it’s more complicated. She feels that she owes Ironwood so much. Because of him and the military, she escaped her father and his control. I think that she does realize that this point that she’s just exchanged one puppetmaster for another, but she doesn't know how to cut the strings. We see some signs of hope, both in the last volume when she allowed Weiss and the others to escape, and here when she grants JYR’s request to go into the whale to find Oscar before the bomb arrives. She knows that if Ironwood finds out she’ll be in trouble. She remains conflicted, but it’s still a signt hat it’s not too late. It allows her (and Marrow forthat mater) to remain sympathetic while others like Harriet… well, they’re not making it easy, let’s leave it at that.

That brings us to Ren. He’s had it hard thus far, his emotional control slipping, his split-off from Nora, and everything that built up the last volume coming crashing down. He’s been pushing everyone away, but now? He can’t afford to do so. Not with Oscar in danger. When Harriet says that teammates are replaceable, he strongly disagrees. He and Jaune would absolutely know how wrong this is. They’ve never replaced Pyrrha after all. Even if one considers Oscar part of JNR, he’s never been considered the new Pyrrha. He’s just Oscar, their friend. When he finally admitted that to himself, it allowed Ren’s Semblance to evolve. Instead of simply masking emotions, he can now see them via colored flower petals. Yes dear readers, Ren is an empath.

This development is perfect/. It happened at the right time, Ren finally admitting his feelings for those that he cares about instead of internalizing them and pushing those people away as he has been with Nora. It’s a natural evolution of his powers. He can mask emotions to protect others from the Grimm, and now that he can take it off he can see beneatht he masks of others. Harriet and Elm’s rage. Vine’s uncertainty (I’m assuming anyways based on what happens later). Marrow’s sadness. Winter’s collection of so many different colored petals, reflecting the war that she is having with herself. Now that Ren is beginning to open up, he can now help others do the same. Semblances reflect the on using them, and I think this says a lot about what Ren is truly meant to be and will be in the future.

Schnee Manor

Now we get to the meat of this post. Let’s go over the events in War first. While our heroes are safe at Schnee Manor, they’re conflicted on what to do. May wants to, and by Dark does, go back to Mantle since things are just as bad there and they don’t have the military to save them. Weiss however? She wants to help Atlas. Despite everything, Atlas is still Weiss’ home and there are still family and innocent people that she wishes to save. She’s a Huntress, that’s her job. May however? Her family dismissed her when she was their son, and she made it very clear that she is in no way their daughter. Which first, that was a brilliant way to add that representation. Kdin confirmed that May was Transgender last volume, but now we have undeniable proof in the show itself and it was perfectly delivered. She also makes a good point, Mantle has no protection. The whole reason that RWBY went against Ironwood was that he chose to leave Mantle to die. At this point, it does seem like the heroes can have it both ways. It worked in the past, but not here. Not anymore. But even May admits as she leaves that at this point, there might not be anythign left to do for either city. It’s just… bleak. Even moreso than in V3.

This of course hits Ruby. Normally, her optimism and hope carry her through. It was practically what got the heroes through V6 alive and well. But now? No. Even she can’t deny how bad things have gotten. When she and Blake go to turn on the backup generator, it’s clear how conflicted she is. She wants to help everyone. She chose to send the message because it seemed like the best chance to save everyone. But the longer that she waits, the more unlikely it all seems. She’s becoming utterly overwhelmed. Honestly, with how 2020 went, I find this very relatable. You w\see all the suffering caused by COVID and the horror of the police brutality against Black people and so many other awful things we’re still in the midst of. You want to do something. You want to help everyone and want things to just be okay. But when you do, all of it weighs down on you because you simply can’t help everyone. As Klein said, you can only focus on what’s in front of you first. You feel helpless, scared, maybe even angry. But we’re only human. We can only do what we can a step at a time in whatever way we can, even if it’s just being a shoulder to lean on. It’s at least something.

This leads to something that I have practically been begging CRWBY to do for years now, have Blake comfort her. We’ve had very scarce Ruby and Blake interactions, but it’s always been pretty clear that Blake trusts Ruby and has followed her lead faithfully more or less since the team formed. I think it was very fitting for Blake to be the one who reached out to her as it calls back to when they first talked in Volume 1. Back when Ruby expressed her love of books and wanting to make the world better like the heroes that she would read about. How Blake admired her goal but also viewed it as rather childish. Considering everything with the Faunus oppression, the White Fang, and of course Adam, who could blame her? But Ruby gave her hope. Ruby got her to see that they can make the world better. That despite everything, it’s their job to protect everyone and to move forward. Ruby’s been able to push them ahead so much, and they all still need her. It’s what Ruby needed to hear and it shows how far that both girls have come since those early days at Beacon. Which since this happened in the 100th episode, was very fitting.

Now I’m not gonna say too much about The Hound here. The entire fight scene was awesome and the thing stalking through the Schnee Manor? It somehow felt more horrifying than The Apathy did in Volume 6. How do you manage that?! Whitley and Willow ultimately killing it via the armor was also pretty cool and it’s nice to see the civilian characters getting involved, showing that they don’t have to be helpless like with the ship captain and crew back in Volume 4. Then the final revelation, that The Hound was not only human but had Silver Eyes… yeah Ruby’s reaction could not be more justified. I’m gonna go into my thoughts more in the 11-12 review since Ruby goes more into her feelings there. But the revelations that this one scene caused… yeah, it’s added a whole new level of horror to not just Salem, but the Grimm as a whole. It’s kind of a bummer that The Hound was killed off and it just feels so soon, but with how so much is going on at this point… yeah I’m gonna forgive it especially since the death still leaves a lot to think about in the future.

So let’s talk Schnee family! First, Willow. I like how they handled her here. She’s an anxious mess, which makes complete sense. She has to keep forcing herself to not drink, but without that coping mechanism, she’s so anxious that she ends up running out of Weiss’ room in utter panic. Fortunately, she’s still able to get her act together enough to be of help. She uses the security cameras to warn Weiss and keep an eye on The Hound. Which also allows her to see it heading for Whitley. But instead of waiting on Weiss and since Whitley understandably doesn’t want to listen to her, she does the right thing: act like a mother and save her child. Including actually using her Glyphs to summon a Boarbutusk. Yes, Willow. In a jam-packed volume like this, it’s nice to see these bits of character development for even the minor characters and it was done well here.

Then we have Whitley. I’m gonna admit it, it feels like his change is pretty rushed, but again we have about a million other things going on. Plus I guess the worst situations can bring out the best in people. That’s certainly the case here. He over-hears RWB and May talking and decides to call Klein, who is apparently a doctor, not only a butler (the temptation to NOT make an ‘I’m a doctor, not an X’ joke after getting into Star Trek is REALLY hard XD) to treat Nora. Which Weiss’ reaction to seeing him and him not at all blaming her for being fired was just beautiful. But it’s Whitley making a decision. Not due to his father’s influence. Not to get Weiss’ attention. He did it because Nora needed help and it was simply the right thing to do. The fact that he acted independently makes Weiss so happy that she hugs him. It surprises Whitley… but you can tell that he’s happy about it.

I think that really encouraged Whitley. Jaques isn’t there anymore. There’s no one controlling his fate anymore. It doens’t matter if Whitley defies him now, Jaques can’t do a thing about it. It’s Whitley who realizes that they have the resources and ability to send supplies and help to Mantle. It’s him who goes to his father’s office to get the process underway. Even when The Hound comes in, he still makes sure to give the authorization before making a run for it. With the fear of his father gone and Weiss showing more support, Whitley is showing that he’s not a bad person. He was very much like his sister was; someone trapped and forced to succumb to the toxic influences to survive. He didn’t have the support that Weiss did, nor the skills that either of his sisters had that let them escape. But he’s taking those steps now. He has an attitude still, but he’s kind of where Volume 1-3 Wess was; a major brat but one very much on their way to improving. If Whitey ends up taking over whatever remains of the SDC or outright remakes it, I think that he’ll be a fine leader while his sisters continue as Huntresses.

Finally, we come to Penny. I should probably talk about Nora as well, but since Chapter 11 is when she expresses how she feels ike how Ruby does, I’m going to hold off until then As far as Penny goes… God, I… it just hurts. Knowing how this ultimately will end only makes it more painful to go back through. But just as Chapter 5 made it look like Penny would finally be allowed to choose for herself, Watts ruins all of it. This is a girl who is utterly trapped. Ironwood bound her down by isolating her and then forcing the protection of a whole city on her. Pietro, while well-meaning, was over-protective and allowing that to keep Penny held by her strings. He let go… and look at how it ended. The Maiden Powers, while something that Penny accepted, now has her targeted on all sides and she can’t escape them while bound tot he responsibilities that come with it. Now we have Watts’ virus and despite her best efforts, she can’t stop it.

It’s just… heart-wrenching. Especially when Nora wakes up and calms her down by reminding her that whatever is trying to take over is only a part of her, not the whole being. It works… for a few moments. But in the end, all that Penny can do is succumb. This girl truly has no control over anything. Not over her own life. Not over the abilities that she possesses. And now not even over her own mind and body. She keeps having her strings yanked back and forth, wanting to just snap them off but all her limbs are held in place so she can’t. Watching her act utterly robotic, blankly describing how she will open the Vault then self-terminate… it’s just so wrong. Not to mention her coming dangerously close to being carted off to Salem with only Ruby managing a Silver Eyes blast saving her. It was hard to watch back when these premiered but after the finale? It’s just… it’s just so cruel.

Both of these chapters were excellent. War is mainly a setup chapter and ho boy the event that it sets up for… Chapter 9 is gonna be fun to talk about! But it also had plenty of pay-offs, especially for Ren and great moments like May’s scene, Salem conducting the Grimm, and it just captures the bleakness yet determination of our heroes perfectly. Then Dark… boy is that chapter title appropriate. Again great moments like the Ruby and Blake talk, the entire fight sequence, and probably the most horrifying revelation thus far. There’s some minor stuff like the jailbreak as well that made RWBY’s 100th chapter, as well as the chapter to kick off the return after the six-week hiatus, a thrill to watch. That's not even going into Alex Abraham's spectacular score, especially when the big reveal/death of The Hound happens. Just... it's just perfect. It can feel like there’s just so much going on that it gets hard to keep up with at times… but to be fair, that’s how our heroes feel as well, so I supposed that’s appropriate.

Chapter Stats

War

Favorite Character: Lie Ren

Favorite Scene: Ren unlocking his emotion-reading power

Least Favorite Scene: RWB sipping tea. It’s not a bad scene, but them just kind of standing by while the chaos is going on… it just feels a tad out of place.

Favorite Voice Actor: Kdin Jenzen (May Marigold)

Favorite Animation: Salem conducting the Grimm attack.

Rating: 8/10

Dark

Favorite Character: Ruby Rose

Favorite Scene: Ruby and Blake talk

Least Favorite Scene: I got nothing. Everything here was perfect.

Favorite Voice Actor: Arryn Zeck (Blake) and Jason Liebrecht (The Hound)

Favorite Animation: As horrifying as it was, The Hound reveal.

Rating: 10/10

Final Thoughts

When I watched these, all I could really do was stare wide-eyed. Even though I knew that this volume was going to be intense, somehow I wasn’t prepared for any of it. Certainly not for everything in these chapters. But all of it was just so freakin’ good. Does it feel emotionally draining? Yes. It was a big part of why I’m only getting to these several months later. But was it still worth watching? Absolutely. Compare Dark to the first chapter of Volume 1. RWBY has come such a long way. A lot of things both good and bad have happened in between, but it’s still going and I plan to be here until the bitter end. With quality like this, it gives me a good reason to stick around. So six more chapters/three reviews to go.

(Image Sources)

[axwalker]

The trade 13

Synopsis:  Liam is running for Cordonia’s presidency. To assure his victory, Constantine makes an arraignment behind his back for him to marry the rich ambassador’s daughter: Alexis O’Brien. Due to her father’s threats, she has no other option than to seduce Liam Rhys. But what happens when she falls in love with his best friend? (AU)

Pairings: DrakexMC

A/N: I took some liberties with Leo’s and Liam’s characters. In this AU their age difference is two years instead of six, and I made up their middle names.

I’m using Grey’s Anatomy prompt asked by @mskaneko​  : If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that it’ll cause problems. Even if you’re scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud and you go from there. (In bold) 

I love to picture FC when I read fanfic so I added a mood board with mine at the beginning. 

Warnings: I love drama and chaos so this will probably get a bit dark. In this chapter there is mention of rape, if you get triggered by this issue, don’t hesitate to send me a message and I’ll be glad to explain what happens without reading it. A lot of angst and heartbreak

NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Please note that this is my first series and English is not my first language. I really love ALL kinds of feedback.  Don’t hesitate to comment!

Disclaimer: Some of the dialogues and settings as well as most of the characters belong to Pixelberry (except for Alexis O’Brien and her evil father George O’Brien JR).

To catch up: Masterlist

Thanks to @pedudley​  my awesome beta reader, your comments and encouragement mean so much.  And of course, to @mskaneko​ for this beautiful mood board, and all the other great edits and mood boards 💕💕  Love you girls!!

Tags: @burnsoslow  @mskaneko​ @drxkewalker @pedudley @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @pug-bitch @lauzales @desireepow-1986 @yukinagato2012 @kingliam2019 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker  @speedyoperarascalparty @drakewalker04 @ac27dj @ravenpuff02@msjr0119 @texaskitten30​ @loveellamae​ @texaskitten30​

March 2003

Constantine had been preparing for this day since the revolution had stolen him the throne that was his by birthright. After the monarchy had been overthrown, he had sworn to himself that he would be back to rule his people one day, so he had spent the last nineteen years of his life building a strong political career. And, there he was, about to become Cordonia’s third democratic president. He smiled at the irony, all that blood spilled by the revolutionaries had been for nothing. One way or another, he had been born to lead his country.

His eyes drifted to his two sons. Leo and Liam, so similar in appearance but with such contrasting personalities. 

Liam was sitting calmly next to his stepmother, not a hair out of place, his suit perfectly ironed. Leo was the opposite. Despite Regina’s efforts, Leo’s hair was all over the place and he wasn’t wearing a tie anymore. Constantine scoffed; they were going to appear in live television in a question of minutes.

“Leonard Alistair Rhys, could you care to tell me where your tie is?”

Leo jumped at the mention of his middle name. He knew it meant trouble. Plus, he hated it, he had been given the dreadful name of an old, forgotten ancestor, while Liam shared his middle name, Fabian, with one of Cordonia’s greatest kings.

He answered smugly despite the fear his father inspired in him. “I left it in my room, it didn’t suit my wild personality.”

Liam laughed quietly to his brother’s answer.

Constantine snapped his fingers at Jackson, his personal bodyguard. “I need a tie for him, now”

Then he turned to his oldest son. “You may think that this is simply about the tie, but it is not. It’s what the tie represents.” He arched one brow scornfully “You will never achieve anything important, Leo.  You have no discipline, no self-control, no respect. The monarchy was abolished because of nobles like you. I couldn’t see it back then, but they had a point. If the revolutionaries had lost, you would be an heir right now. The next Cordonia’s king. A terrible thing for our country. But thanks to the new democracy your brother who is far more capable and responsible than you can lead this country one day if he applies himself and works for it, as I did. I was against the revolution, but thanks to you I realize now, that they were right”.

Leo’s fists clenched; he was trembling with rage but didn’t reply anything. He was used to his father’s contempt and sourly remarks. He had been his favorite target since he was a little boy and his mother had left, something his father blamed him for. Leo didn’t cry, he had never given him the pleasure of his tears before, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.  

Jackson came back minutes later with the tie.

“Put this on, now, Leonard. We will talk about your punishment later.” Constantine barely looked at his oldest son for the rest of the ceremony.

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After the scandal exploded, Leo Rhys left the ballroom discretely through a backdoor. As he loosened his bowtie, he smiled to himself, the look in his father’s eyes had been priceless. He couldn’t help but feel slight remorse thinking about Liam. Frankly, he would’ve liked to avoid hurting his younger brother, but Liam had interfered with his destiny to be the next Cordonia’s king, so he had become collateral damage. It was too late for regrets anyway, it was done, the wheels were in motion.  

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Franz and Mara took Alexis and the Rhys outside the ballroom, followed by Rashad, Maxwell, and Drake.

When they reached a private room far away from the public’s curiosity, Constantine turned to the three friends.

“This is a family matter, leave us alone. I’ll call you if I need you, Drake.”

Drake’s eyes drifted to Alexis’s face. His heart tugged seeing how hard she was working to keep a strong facade, he needed to be there for her.

“I need to be here, Constantine. I’m the Chief of Staff of Liam’s campaign, this concerns me too.”

Liam stared at Drake, fully aware of the real reason behind his concern. “You heard my father, Drake. This is a family matter.” He entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“Fuck this!” Drake was about to barge into the room, but Maxwell stopped him on time.

“Do you think she needs the two of you fighting right now?”

“You know Constantine as well as I do, Maxwell. He’s going to blame her for everything. She has been through enough!”

Maxwell placed his hand in Drake’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but Liam is there. He won’t let Constantine hurt her. You’re just going to make everything worst Drake. Please, wait here with us.”

Drake sighed and leaned against the wall.

Constantine was so furious that he needed a minute to gather himself. Alexis had become a huge liability for his son’s campaign. In spite of her father’s money, Liam had to get rid of her. Regina served him a scotch that he gulped down.

“Could you care to tell us what you were doing in your underwear with Tariq, Alexis?”

She took a deep breath and answered in a calm, poised voice, “I was about to take a shower when Tariq barged into my room and tried to attack me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Liam took a step towards Alexis placing his arm around her waist. “I was there that night, father. Alexis is telling the truth.”

Constantine scoffed looking around the room. “Where the hell is your father?”

Alexis chose to tell him a version of the truth. “He wasn’t feeling right, he had to go back to Cordonia City.”

Constantine answered angrily “He’s like the rats and the cockroaches that leave the sinking boat before anyone else, isn’t he?”

“There’s no need for insults, father.” Liam raised his hands. “We will deal with this ourselves.”

“Don’t you understand, Liam? Your chances to get elected just got cut in half. And all thanks to this … this whore.”

Liam was a man that rarely lost his nerves, but at soon as he heard his father’s words, he cut the distance between them in one step and took him by the lapels of his tuxedo’s jacket. “You say another word against my fiancé, and I swear to God, I’ll forget you’re my father. Do you understand?”

Regina squeaked. “Liam! Stop, please!”

Both men stared at each other until finally, Liam let Constantine go.

The older man went to the bar and poured himself another scotch. Then he turned around with a mocking smile in his face. “I would love to see if you defend her so ardently after I tell you why she has agreed to marry you.”

Liam looked at Alexis and saw how pale she had turned. “Alexis? What does he mean?”

“I’m sorry, Liam I…” Alexis couldn’t find the words to explain to Liam what was happening. 

Constantine was faster than her.  “George confessed a few days ago that he was pressuring his daughter to marry you for political reasons. Alexis accepted because, apparently, she needs money.”

Alexis couldn't believe her ears. “What? That’s not true! You and my father were both pressuring me, and it wasn’t for money.”

“But they were pressuring you”. Liam’s voice was cold and steady.

“Liam, please I-“

“Do not believe a word that comes out of her mouth, Liam. You need to break up the engagement now. This little whore has done enough damage as it is.”

Liam didn’t even think about it. He raised his fist and punched his father in the jaw.

Regina gasped in shock. “God, Liam! What are you doing?”

“Liam is confused, Regina.” He turned to his son rubbing his jaw. “If you want to believe her, it’s your problem, but she lied. She doesn’t want you, the only thing she cares about is being First Lady.”

Liam turned to Alexis. “I just want to know if you only agreed to marry me because your father asked you to.” Before she could answer, he raised his right hand. “Just say yes or no, Alexis.”

She looked at him directly into his eyes, unable to lie to him any longer. “Yes.”

Liam felt something breaking inside of him. “I see. I knew you were not in love with me yet, Alexis. But I thought you felt… something. I didn’t know you were doing this only to help your father’s political ambitions.” He looked at her with utmost contempt “Please, leave”

“Liam, let me explain.”

“Didn’t you hear me? Leave. Now.” He turned his back to her, refusing to break in front of her.

She tried to approach him, but Regina got in the middle.

“It’s better if you leave, darling. Don’t make things harder than they already are.”

Alexis turned around, feeling angry and defeated. She left the room furiously slamming the door on her way out.

Drake and Maxwell looked at each other and followed her.

“Blossom! I’ll go look for the car with Rash and meet you here. If you go through the front door, those so-called journalists won’t let you leave.”

She stopped walking and nodded. Drake went next to her, he needed to hold her and make her understand that she wasn’t alone, but he would have to wait until they were alone, another scandal would destroy her.

“Lexie, are you okay?” He brushed her hand with his fingers.

She hugged herself “No, I’m not. Liam knows everything.” Her eyes watered, Abigail was the only thing in her mind. “I can’t talk right now.”

“Go with them to Ramsford. I’ll drive there in my jeep. It’s better if we don’t leave together.”

“No, Drake. Don’t worry about me. They have a crisis inside, and Liam is going to need you.” She knew that if she threw one look at him, she wouldn’t be able to hold her tears any longer, so she jumped into Maxwell’s car without turning around.

Rashad, Maxwell, and Alexis arrived at Ramsford after a long, silent ride. She got out of the car and after thanking the couple, went to her room.

Abigail. She didn’t even know how to contact her, how to warn her parents. Her daughter needed her and, once again, she had failed her as she had done when she had been born. Alexis paced around the room, incapable of staying put. Her eyes were puffy and swollen after all the tears she had spilled on her way back from the engagement party.  She couldn’t believe that everything was over, but Liam was too sad, too disappointed and he wasn’t going to forgive her. Maybe if she offered something else to her father, he wouldn’t harm Abigail. She was willing to do anything he asked of her if that meant to keep her daughter safe.

“O’Brien let me in.” Drake knocked at her door. 

“Don’t worry about me, Drake. I’m fine.” Alexis was terrified about what could happen to him. She could only imagine her father’s revenge after Drake had beat him up.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t leave you alone. I will sleep outside your door all night if I have to.”

She debated with herself a little longer, torn between the urge to see him and the need to protect him.

When she finally opened the door, he approached her and cupped her face to wipe her tears away. Then, he pulled her to him enveloping her with his strong arms, making her feel instantly safe. Despite that, or maybe because of it, she began to cry again. Drake's heart broke at the sound of her small sobs. He rubbed her back as he talked to her.

“Shhh, everything will be fine, baby. I promise. Cry all you need to cry but know that I will do whatever I have to do to fix this.” He placed small kisses on the top of her head. “I promise.”

“How?” She spread her arms wide. “There’s nothing we can do. Liam hates me now, so it’s over. Over. My only solution is to beg my father for forgiveness and comply with whatever he asks now.”

Drake shook his head furiously “No! There’s no fucking way that’s going to happen, O’Brien. That man is seriously deranged! Only god knows what he’s going to ask from you now! Forget it, I won’t allow it!”

She glared at him “I’m sorry but you don’t have a say on the matter. You have to understand that Abigail is my priority and I will do everything it takes to keep her safe. I don’t even know where she is Drake, I can’t even warn her...her mother.”

He cut the distance between them taking her in his arms again. “Well, you have to understand that you’re my priority and I will do everything it takes to keep you safe. I’m serious, Alexis, anything it takes.” He cupped her face with both hands and looked at her. “I love you. We’ll find a solution together, but now you need to eat something and rest, you seem exhausted.”

“I love you too, Drake” She said as he wiped another tear off her cheek.

“Would you let me stay here with you, Lexie?”

“Yes, I’d like that” She gave him a small smile.

God, he loved her so much. “Perfect, why you don’t go get ready for bed. I’ll go to Beaumont’s kitchen to get us something to eat.” He took off his jacket and his bowtie before leaving the room.

She took a long shower. When she came back to the room, Drake had lighted the bedroom’s electric fireplace and had put some sandwiches and a bottle of whiskey on the small coffee table. Alexis had changed into a huge t-shirt with the inscription “Everything I need to know I learned by watching 80’s movies” printed on it and a pair of mini shorts. He blushed, remembering how soft her long, tanned legs felt around him.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “What’s your favorite?” He pointed at the t-shirt, grinning.

She looked at him. “I know what you’re trying to do, Drake. I really appreciate it, but nothing is going to take my mind off of Abigail”

He got close to her “I know how worried you are. I do. And I promise you that tomorrow we will spend the day trying to figure this out together.” He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “But you won’t solve anything tonight, O’Brien. Please eat something and try to rest.”

They sat on some cushions in front of the table and started eating the grilled cheese sandwiches he had made, in comfortable silence.

“Back to the Future,” Alexis said. 

He looked at her “What?”

“My favorite 80’s movie, Back to the Future.”

He grinned. “Chicken, Mc Fly”

She squinted at him. “Nobody.Calls.Me.Chicken”

They both laughed locking eyes for a few seconds. He placed a strand of hair behind her ear before speaking again.

“Mine is Indiana Jones.”

She giggled. “Figures, Walker”

“Why?” He asked, puzzled.

“Why? Seriously?” She smirked “A movie about a lonely, hot-headed hero that protects everyone around him?”

He chuckled.“I don’t need to protect everyone around me, O’Brien. Just you.”

She sat in his lap and gave him a soft kiss. “Thank you for everything, Drake. I don’t even know how I would’ve dealt with all of this without you.”

Drake smiled at her. “There’s nothing to thank me for, Lexie. I love you.” He gently rubbed her back. “Now, let’s go to bed, you need a good night of sleep.”

She rubbed her eyes. “I don’t think I can sleep now, I’m too anxious.”

He kissed the top of her head, before speaking. “What if I look for a movie on Netflix? You might fall asleep watching it, baby.”

Alexis shrugged. “It can’t hurt.” 

Drake grinned at her, placing a small kiss on her nose. “Perfect, Lexie.”

She began to undo the covers when she saw him taking off his clothes. 

“Are you giving me a strip show, Walker? Because I don’t have any dollar bills.” She smiled.

He chuckled. “Get your head out of the gutter, O’Brien. I’m not going to sleep all night in a fucking tuxedo.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Alexis teased. 

They went to bed together. Alexis snuggled against Drake and he held her while they watched “Back to the future 2”. Both of them enjoyed the intimacy, the proximity to the other. Drake revealed in the sensation of having her in his arms. He swore to himself that he would never let her go again. An hour later, he smiled content, Alexis had fallen asleep. He watched her for a few seconds, admiring how serene, and peaceful she looked. After placing a loving kiss on her forehead, Drake turned off the computer and put it on the bedside table. Then he went back to bed and carefully pulled Alexis against his chest, he needed to feel her close to him, safe and sound in his arms.

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Hakim knew that restoring the monarchy was the right measure for his country. Thirty-five years ago, when he was young and idealistic, he had been one of the few nobles involved with the revolution but now he saw the errors of his ways. Democracy hadn’t solved the numerous problems Cordonia had, worse than that, it had added several more. Corruption was a sickness at every level of the state and liberal ideas like gay marriage or abortion rights were threatening the conservative values he cherished so deeply. The old noble houses like his continued to rule in more ways than one but they were losing more and more power every day and depended on the elections. Of course, he had considered forming an alliance with Godfrey Amaranth but that would only have fixed the problem momentarily, and he needed something permanent. Something that would bring the monarchy back, along with all the old titles. He sighed thinking about his father the old Duke of Castelraillan and how that title would be inherited by Ezequiel one day.  

Hakim remembered the day he had approached Leo Rhys to help with his plans. The idea was actually quite simple, he would help Leo claim his right as an heir to the old Monarchy and in exchange, Leo would have him as his closest advisor. Hakim wasn’t worried, he knew Leo since he was a small boy, as long as he had enough women and scotch, he would be easy to manipulate. The first step was to ruin the reputation of the candidate highest in the polls, Liam Rhys. It was a pity, Liam would have made an extraordinary king in other circumstances. The second was to create a scandal big enough that it would make everyone question their democratic leaders and the third, well it was the most extreme but undoubtedly the most effective of the three.

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Alexis laid down restless with her eyes open, she had slept exactly three hours before a nightmare had woken her up. Fortunately, Drake was still asleep, he was exhausted and worried about her, he definitely needed the rest. Drake’s concern for her filled her heart, no one had ever cared so deeply about her before. Liam might’ve thought he loved her, but the truth was that he didn’t even really know her. Of course, that didn’t help diminish her guilt. Alexis knew that she had deeply hurt him, and she wasn’t going to forgive herself. She rolled over to look at Drake, and couldn’t help the smile forming in her lips, she had never imagined she could love someone with such intensity before meeting him. She stroked his face with her hand, and he opened his eyes.

“Hi,” he looked at his phone. “It’s only 4 o’clock, Lexie. You can’t sleep?”

She ran her hand through her hair “There are too many things on my mind. I’m sorry that I woke you up though. Go back to sleep, Drake.”

He lifted his upper body with an elbow and leaned down to kiss her. She tugged his hair and soon the soft kiss became hungry, passionate.

“I need to feel you, Drake.”

He slid his hand under her shirt, her naked skin underneath was unbelievably soft. “I need to feel you too baby.” He pulled her shirt over her head, the smell of cherries washing over him.

“Fuck, Lexie you’re gorgeous.” He ran his hands all over her body, almost desperately. When he finally found the hem of her short, he softly stroked the skin under it, locking eyes with her, enjoying how her breath hitched with the mere touch of his fingers. He lowered himself, covering her stomach with soft kisses, savoring her soft gasps, until he reached her lower belly. He carefully undid the knot of her shorts and pulled them down with her underwear, as he kissed the inside of her thighs, her knees, her calves. She was lost in his touch, barely able to moan. Then he made his way up kissing the length of her legs all over again until he reached her core.  

She wasn’t able to think anymore. “Oh god!” Her voice sounded raspy, foreign.

“You make me insane, Lexie” He took his time kissing the hot skin around her core, taking pleasure on how wet she already was. He sank his head on her until his tongue found the little nub inside of her making her moan harder. Drake thrust two fingers inside of her curling them as his tongue continued to pleasure her and she came hard, losing all control of herself.

When he felt her become undone under his tongue, he couldn’t take it any longer. He placed himself over her, as desperate as he was to enter her, he took a second to watch her. She looked like a goddess with her messy hair framing her beautiful face and her eyes closed as she tried to stabilize her breath again.

“Open your eyes baby” He whispered, and she complied, her already brown eyes, darkened with lust.  

-For me. That look is only for me- he thought, feeling himself grow harder.

Drake didn’t stop looking at her for a second as he positioned himself over her entrance, teasing her with the tip of his cock before slowly sinking into her.

“God, Drake! I need you!”

He growled at the sound of his name falling from her lips. He thrust into her as she moaned his name over and over again.

“Come for me, Lexie,” he whispered, and she moaned again. Sliding his arm under her back, Drake pulled her closed to him and pounded mercilessly into her, capturing her lips until her walls clenched on him. Soon, Alexis was too far gone to care about her screams.

“DRAKE! DRAKE!”

“That’s my girl.” He growled coming right after her.

He held her close to his chest, their bodies covered in sweat as they tried to even out their breath, and he noticed her eyes fighting to stay open.

“You need to sleep, baby” He laid down wrapping her body with his arms and kissing her nape.

She felt her eyes closing. “I love you, Drake”

“I love you, Lexie.” He whispered before falling asleep next to the love of his life.

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Regina Rhys wasn’t used to making important decisions on her own, she had always let others, especially her husband to make them for her. That was the reason why she had kept quiet when she had found out that Constantine was trying to buy a wife for Liam. A few days later, she had heard a conversation between George and her husband and had discovered that they were blackmailing Alexis into accepting their deal. Regina ignored the secret they had over the poor girl, but it had to be dark because she had barely protested. For all those reasons, she had been tempted to defend Alexis the night before, but she knew her husband would never forgive her and she definitely didn’t know how to confront him, so Regina had decided to wait until the morning to speak alone with the man she considered her son.

Liam hadn’t slept all night, his mind was consumed by her and all the moments they had spent together. If he was true to himself, he had to admit that she had never really told him that she loved him. She had been kind and gentle, but a wall had always been there between the two of them. He couldn’t understand why he felt such a powerful need for her, for someone that was so clearly not interested in him and so obviously…infatuated with someone else. He threw his glass furiously against the door. It was his fault. Everything had been perfect until he had decided he liked her too. Liam knew Drake was a womanizer, just like his brother. And even if he thought he was in love with her, eventually he was going to get tired of her as he always did, and she would end up sad and alone. Not that her fate mattered to him anymore. Liam took another tumbler from the cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch.

Regina found him in his office, nursing the glass. “Good morning, Liam. I brought you a cup of fresh coffee.”

She removed the scotch from his hand and gave him the mug, squeezing his shoulder.

She cleared her throat trying to summon her courage. “I want to tell you something about Alexis.”

He looked at her expectantly.

“Your father and George were blackmailing her. I know it isn’t money, Liam. They mentioned an old secret. Your father told George that she had asked him to stop the engagement because she didn’t want to hurt you. I think you should go and talk to her. I’ve known the ambassador for a long time now, and there is nothing he wouldn’t do for money or power, including hurting his own daughter.”

“I don’t think I should talk to her, Regina. She doesn’t care if I love her or not” His voice sounded hollow, hopeless.

She approached him, placing her hand in his shoulder “Liam, If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that it’ll cause problems. Even if you’re scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud and you go from there.”

“I already did, and it didn’t change anything.”

“I’m only telling you all of this because I think you deserve to have all the information, what you do with it, only concerns you, Li.” She rubbed his shoulder and let him alone so he could think.

Drake felt her absence as soon as he opened his eyes. He sat on the bed and found her wrapped on a blanket watching absentmindedly through the window.

“Hey, Lexie.”

She turned her head towards him. “Hi, Drake”

“Come to bed, baby”

Alexis went to him and sat on his lap looping her arms around his neck. She rubbed his stubble with her nose. “You’re so handsome in the morning”

He teased her. “But only in the morning.”

“Yes, you lose all your charm at noon, like a reversed Cinderella.”

They grinned at each other, but he noticed that her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “What were you thinking over there?”

“Abbie … and Liam”

He furrowed “Liam?”

“Yes, how sad he seemed last night, all because of me”

“Because of both your fathers, O’Brien.”

“I accepted the offer and no matter the reason, I hurt him.” She sighed “And Abbie, she will be eleven years old soon, what if she never gets to ...”

Drake lifted her face up to him and locked eyes with her. “Hey! Look at me, Lexie. I swear, I would keep you two safe.” She tried to shake her head but he cupped her face. “I swear it on my life, okay?” He kissed her softly “This morning I thought about contacting Damien, he’s a friend of mine in New York and he’s a PI. He’s the best there is, and I’m sure he will help us find her. I promise I’ll help you fix this.”

“And my father?”

“I will deal with him.”

Alexis was about to respond when her phone rang. She saw the name and the screen and answered immediately

“Hi, Liam.”

Drake stood up from the bed and angrily started to dress. He didn’t want to hear their conversation; he knew how it would end. If Liam was as in love with Alexis, his Lexie, as much as he was, he wasn’t going to go without a fight.

She finished her call and sat next to him on the couch. “He wants to talk to me in person. He asked me if I could meet with him today at noon at his office”

Drake cocked his brows as he asked the question he already knew the answer to. “And you accepted?”

Alexis hugged herself. “You know I did, Drake.”

He answered bitterly. “Yes, I forgot that we were just friends, O’Brien”

Her heart sank at his words. “Drake, please. Don’t do this now”

He shook his head. “I know it’s difficult for you, Alexis, but it’s damn hard for me too. Can’t you see that I die every time that I have to see you two together?” He raised his voice “Every time he touches you, I want to fucking kill him. He was my best friend, and now I want to end him every single time he dares to look at you.”

She approached him and rubbed his face with her small hand. “You know, I love you, Drake.”

He took her hand between his closing his eyes. “Yes, I know you do now.” He muttered.

“What does that mean?” Alexis asked, glaring at him.

He took a sharp breath. “It doesn’t matter, Lexie”

She took his head between her hands. “I love you, Drake, you have no idea how much.” She stood on her toes and kissed him tenderly. “I will never, never, stop loving you. Please, never forget that”

“I know, baby, I know” He kissed her forehead “I’m sorry. Let’s focus on Abbie right now”

She smiled at him.

“What, O’Brien?”

“I like it when you call her Abbie”

He smiled back at her “We’ll find her, Lexie. I promise”

They decided that she was going to ask Maxwell to lend her a car so she could go to Cordonia city by herself. He would go later, so no one could see them arrive together.

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Alexis steadied her breath to calm herself before entering Liam’s office.

“Hi, Liam” His heart skipped a beat just hearing her voice.  

“Alexis, sit please”

She sat on the couch he was pointing at.

“Something to drink?”

“Do you have whiskey?”

He scoffed “Yes, I do”

He poured a whiskey for her and a scotch for him before sitting next to her on the couch.

“I talked to Regina, she seems to think that my father and yours are blackmailing you”

She gulped her whiskey before speaking. “Yes, they were, they are. I don’t know how much Constantine actually knows, but he’s definitely aware that my father was forcing me.”

He spoke with an icy tone. “With what exactly? What was so important that it was worth your happiness and mine?”

“Almost eleven years ago, I was … attacked and I got pregnant. Obviously, I wasn’t married, so my father wanted to avoid a scandal. He was ashamed of me.” She took a deep breath refusing to cry in front of Liam. “When my daughter was born, I had to give her up. My father knows where she is, and if I don’t do what he says, he … well my daughter won’t be safe anymore”

Liam couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he settled his glass on the table and took Alexis’s hands, squeezing them softly.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I can’t even begin to imagine what you have been through” He wanted to hold her but he wasn’t sure that she would accept it. “Can I hold you?”

Touched by his concern, she nodded. “Yes.”

Liam took her in his arms trying to erase the past, trying to make her understand how much he loved her. It was comforting and kind, but she couldn’t feel the same sense of security she did when she was held by Drake.

Liam broke the embrace and looked at her. “I’m here for you Alexis. I told you I loved you, and I wasn’t lying. If you want to, we can still get married.”

“Even knowing that I … that I’m not in love with you?”

He took her chin between his fingers. “Yes, I want to help you, and I will. I imagine that your father wants to control the commerce we have with America.”

She nodded

“And he wants us married as some sort of guarantee for him”

“Yes, your father told him he would convince you to give him all the access he needs”

Liam stood up, his hands tightened into fists.

“I want to marry you, Alexis, more than anything, but we can’t let our fathers control our lives.”

“I know, Li, but I have no option, if we go against him, he will harm Abigail. That’s her name.”

“I’ve known George my whole life. I know he would.” Liam took her hands again and kissed them softly. “Marry me, Alexis. Marry me and I swear, I won’t let him harm you or your daughter. We will make them think that I will go along with their plans, but we will be looking for her and gathering evidence against them. I’m sure we will defeat them at the end. Together.”

Alexis didn’t have another option. As much as she loved Drake, she had to accept. “I can’t even begin to thank you, Liam.”

“I’m only going to ask you one thing, Alexis.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“That you try. That you really try to fall in love with me. I promise I won’t pressure you. I won’t be expecting anything from you on our wedding night, or any other night for that matter. Not until you’re ready. But, other than that, I want us to be a real couple, I want you to be honest with me.” He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “I want us to go in dates, and get to know each other better.” He lifted her chin to him “And for that to happen, I need you to stop seeing him, for good. Can you do that, Alexis?”

Her heart tugged, learn to live without Drake would be the hardest thing that she’d ever have to do, after giving Abigail up. But Alexis will do it for her.  

“Yes, I can. I just need to talk to him one last time.”

Liam shook his head “I don’t think it’s a good idea”

“I’m only telling you because you want me to be honest, but I will talk to him one last time, whether you like it or not Liam. He deserves to hear it from me”

“When?”

“I’ll go to his office now.”

He poured himself another scotch. “I’ll be waiting here.”

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Drake was unable to work or focus on anything related to the campaign. All he could think about was Alexis, and her discussion with Liam.

Suddenly, he saw her standing at his door.

He stood up to join her.

“Come in, O’Brien” He was about to ask what had happened with Liam, but he saw it in her eyes.

“He wants to marry you.”

She nodded. “He wants to help me, but he wants us to try to have a real marriage.”

Drake scoffed. “Of course, he does.” He pulled her close to him and kissed her, only her lips at first, but after a few sweet seconds, he let his tongue rub hers, at first softly, almost delicately but fast the kiss became hungry and burning. She parted from him, panting.

“He asked me to stop this, us. He’s going to help me, but in exchange he wants me to stop seeing you.” Alexis took a deep breath. She was going to need all the courage, she could muster. “Drake, listen to me. I need you to quit this job that you hate so much, and finish your veterinarian degree.” She rubbed his cheek. “I need you to live your life and forget about this horrible world.” Her eyes were filled with tears but she forced herself to keep talking. “If you love me, if you really love me, please just leave me here and try to be happy with …with  someone else, anywhere else.”

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to lose her. “I told you before that that’s not happening Alexis. Forget it.”

“Drake, we can’t be together. We just can’t.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “It kills me too but If I have to live my life seeing you being miserable here, I won’t be able to do it, and if I leave with you and something happens to her, I’ll die.” She was openly crying now. “Can’t you see that no matter what I choose I lose something?”

His chest tightened “I know, baby.” He kissed her front.

Liam hadn’t been able to wait in his office for more than a few minutes. The jealousy was killing him. He decided to go to Drake’s office when he got to the threshold and saw him holding her, he approached them almost shaking with rage.

“Do not touch her!”

Alexis gasped “Liam, it’s fine. We’re just talking”

“She doesn’t belong to you, Liam” Drake balled his fists

He tapped a finger into Drake’s chest. “She sure doesn’t belong to you either”

“Get your fucking hands off of me, asshole!”

Liam took Drake by the lapels of his jacket “Or what, Drake. What are you going to do?”

Drake took a swing at Liam connecting his fist with Liam’s jaw, so the blond man hit him back “I’m going to kill you”

Drake grappled him and they fell together to the floor.

Alexis yelled. “Fuck! I can’t take this anymore. Stop or I swear I’ll fucking kill you both myself!”

Both men stopped, panting. Liam threw her an apologetic look.

“Alexis is right, we can’t keep going like this” He turned to her. “We need to talk, darling. Please leave us alone.”

She nodded “I will, just please don’t kill each other”

Drake looked at her cleaning a drop of blood from his swollen lip “Don’t worry, Lexie. We won’t”

Drake stood up from the floor and extended his hand to Liam.

Liam took it .“You still punch hard.” he rubbed his chin.

“You haven’t lost your magic touch either”

Liam sighed “I guess you know everything about Alexis’s story”

“I do,” Drake replied simply.

“I can help her, Drake. I have the resources to do it, and if we marry her father will back off.”

Drake scoffed. “He’s a fucking monster, he won’t just back off. He will keep on asking things because he knows she will do anything for her kid.” He smiled “When she loves someone, she’ll do anything for them”

Liam poured himself and Drake a whiskey. “I love her, Drake.”

Drake gulped his glass. “I know, Liam. I love her too”

“I will help and marry her, but we need to try to be happy, and that won’t happen if you stay here. We were friends, almost brothers, for a long time. I’m asking you for that friendship and for the love you have for her, to leave.”

Drake didn’t want to renounce to her, she had become everything to him, but he wondered if that gave him the right to be an obstacle to her happiness. Right now, she loved him but if he left now, maybe one day she would be able to be happy with Liam. The thought of them together was almost unbearable, but he didn’t have a real choice. He reminded himself that her happiness and safety were the only things that really mattered to him if that meant that he would have to look out for her from afar … he would do it.

“And the scandal?” Drake asked.

“I’ll ask Alexis to give a statement to the press of what happened that day with Tariq. I’ll be there for her. I’m sure they’ll believe her. In any case, Franz and Mara have investigated and they found other women that he has attacked and that are willing to come forward.”

Thinking about Tariq made Drake’s blood boil. “And that asshole? Have you found him?”

“Franz has some leads, apparently he’s in America. In Los Angeles. I swear to you I’ll find him, and he’ll pay for what he almost did that day.”

Drake nodded. “I’ll work in your campaign until you find a replacement for me. After that, I’ll leave.” He took a sharp, painful breath. “If she has to marry you, she deserves at least the opportunity to try and be happy.

Liam placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I appreciate it, Drake-“

Drake raised his hand interrupting him “I mean it, Liam. Make her happy, she deserves…” He stopped himself “She deserves everything, give her everything.”

Liam stared at Drake stupefied “I didn’t know how much you actually cared for her, Drake. I promise I’ll do anything in my power to make her happy”

Drake stared at his former best friend “I don’t care for her, Liam. I love her. I’m crazy about her. She’s the only reason I’m leaving. Her”

Drake stood up and left the office, Alexis was waiting outside. He looked at her one last time, trying to take her all in, trying to print her image in his brain so he would never forget one single part of her. He had never felt anything so painful before. 

They locked eyes for a few seconds, both understanding that it would be for the last time. Both trying painfully not to take the other in their arms. Alexis felt like something inside of her was dying at that moment. 

Finally, Drake shook his head and left her there, broken.

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George entered the rich mansion limping, he also had a swollen eye and a fat lip, all of it, courtesy of Drake Walker. The butler took his coat and walked him to the room where the meeting was being held.

Hakim cocked his brows when he saw the injured ambassador enter the room.

“Is everything alright, George?”

“Perfect. Let’s go straight to the point.”

Hakim nodded. “As my daughter told you, I and some other important people have formed an alliance that will overthrow the democracy. Our plan is to restore the monarchy and give the throne to his rightful heir, Leo.”

George looked at Hakim with obvious contempt. “Leo Rhys? Please, Hakim. Even his father thinks he’s a useless drunk.”

“He is going to give this revolution what it needs, a real cause. There are a lot of royalists in the streets, and they will follow the real heir blindly. Plus, Leo is very easy to manipulate, we will marry him with someone adept to the cause”

“Like your daughter?” George smiled thinking about all the nights he had shared with the beautiful brunette.

“My daughter just ended her engagement, she’s not ready for another one. But we’ll find someone else, someone from an old noble house.”

The American ambassador raised his hands smiling. “It was just an idea”

“The real question is why do you want to join us. Your daughter is about to marry, Liam Rhys”

“After what she did with that Tariq his chances to be president are almost zero, and I need to be in the winning team. I would contribute with money to fund your little movement and you already know what I want in exchange of my…help” He sneered. “And don’t worry about my daughter, we can still use her as an advantage, I‘m sure that I can convince her to help us betray Liam Rhys, she will give us anything we ask.”

Hakim furrowed. “How can you be so sure?”

He gave him an arrogant smile. “Believe me, Hakim, I know. There’s just one more thing I need.”

“You’re already asking us to control all our commercial deals with America. What else could you possibly want, George?”

“Kiara told me the last stage of your plan. I know you are planning to attack Liam Rhys’ headquarters the day of the election.”

Hakim looked at him, thinking that George was going to ask for protection for his daughter, but the rich ambassador had someone else in his mind.

“Well, that day no matter what happens, I need you to kill Drake fucking Walker first”

[thekisforkeats]

In The Hall of the Raven Queen (Let All the Broken Pieces Shine, Chapter Four)

Info: The Magnus Archives, D&D AU. JonMartin, more ships to be added. Rated T. Post-Canon. Jon is amab nb and uses they/them, Martin is a trans guy.

CWs: Body transformation, Ageism (sort of), Apocalypses (mentioned), Doubting reality, Child abuse (mentioned; Martin remembering his mother), Alternate realities, Character death (mentioned), Shouting, Minor Innuendo

Summary: Martin and Jon are both alive; they reunite, flirt a bit in front of a goddess(!) and get their marching orders. Cryptic marching orders, of course. Can these two ever get any other kind?

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First Chapter Previous Chapter

Martin opens his eyes and is, for a moment, confused. There was a Jon in his arms, and now there is no Jon in his arms, and this is Bad. He can remember poetry and fire in the darkness, burning the web, burning the tapes… and the last thing, the most important thing: he’s never letting Jon go, ever again.

He scrabbles about a bit as he gets up, like he’s trying to find his glasses. “Jon? Jon!!"

Jon’s voice comes from above: “I’m right here, Martin.”

Martin looks up and there’s Jon, looking down at him with a sad sort of smile. And something’s off about them, to be sure--they look twisted and withered and are their ears pointed? But, no, that doesn’t matter just now. All that matters is that Jon’s alive.

So Martin climbs to his feet and stares at Jon for just a moment before wrapping his arms around the other man. He just breathes in the scent of Jon, somehow still all paper and cigarette smoke despite the apocalypse.

Then he proceeds to kiss Jon within an inch of their life, because they both survived. Mostly. Sort of. He’s ignoring all the weirdness he feels, just now.

It’s Jon that breaks the embrace, which is rare; usually Jon is incredibly clingy when it comes to hugs. “There will be time for that soon enough, I hope,” they say. They take a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Then their jaw drops.

“Your… your skin. And you…” They gesture to Martin’s face.

“My skin? What about my skin? What about my face?!” Martin eyes Jon and then his face falls. “Oh, God, do I look all old now??” Jon’s always looked older than they are, but some part of Martin still can’t quite believe that no, really, Jon loves him, and that part is somehow worried this might be an issue.

Not that he’s vain or anything, it’s just, he’s not sure he can pull off “younger than he looks” like Jon can.

“No,” Jon replies. “It’s… you’re… rather handsome. Tan, a bit slimmer. Your features are almost…” They pause, considering. “Yes, there is a decidedly… elven look to them. Your ears aren’t as pointed as mine, but they still point.” They indicate a nearby mirror.

Martin’s been so focused on Jon he’s barely noticed his surroundings. He’s already reaching up to feel at his ears, blinking, when he peers into the mirror. And there it is: his hair is red again, the touch of the Lonely gone almost entirely. He seems like he’s maybe a couple inches shorter, and he’s definitely slimmed down. His ears are slightly pointed, his eyes tilted a little differently, and his skin’s gotten bronzed like he’s gotten a tan.

It all clicks together in his mind, all at once. “...Oh. I’m a half-elf. Cross between a human and an elf. That’s… huh.” That’s odd, is what it is. He clears his throat and actually starts to look around. “So what’s going on…?”

“It seems our mission isn’t entirely over,” Jon replies, and points out something so obviously strange it’s a wonder Martin overlooked it thus far: a hovering cloak. And again as Martin takes it in, it all clicks in his head at once. The hovering cloak, the raven symbol on the same. The monochrome nature of everything but the figure of himself in the mirror. The balcony of the fortress overlooking the bleak landscape.

Martin's response is to yelp and grab Jon as he steps away from the floating cloak, dragging the other man a step or two back with him, because if Jon thinks Martin’s letting them out of his sight ever again they're sadly mistaken. Jon gets to stay right next to him for the rest of eternity.

In the meantime, his voice is speaking his realizations aloud as his poor brain catches up with reality. “The Raven Queen!!” A pause. “...The Shadowfell!!” A pause. “...Wait. Am I… dreaming? This… can’t be real.”

He remembers the poetry and fire in the darkness, yes, but… that can’t be real, either. For one thing, if they’re here then they should both be dead. Shouldn’t they?

The Raven Queen sounds amused when she speaks. “Ahh… you know of me, then.”

Jon turns to blink at Martin. “After what you saw this past year… you’re asking if something is real?”

“Well… I mean…!” Martin waves a hand to encompass drained colors and black sky and craggy peaks. “This is… Jon, this is… it’s from a game. A tabletop roleplaying game.” His cheeks heat. He doesn’t consciously think Jon will mock him for his hobbies, but it’s still a difficult thing to admit to. If nothing else, his mother used to gripe at him endlessly for being so fascinated by “fantasy worlds.”

Jon’s response is almost flippant; they merely nod. It certainly doesn’t seem to surprise them that Martin knows this.

The Raven Queen still sounds amused. “The Sage of Shadowdale had traveled to your world many times before. That was part of how I even knew to send… Jon there to begin with.”

Martin blinks at her rapidly. “...Come again?"

Jon blinks at her as well, “‘The Sage of Shadowdale?’ Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Elminster,” Martin puts in immediately, and waves a hand. “No, no, I get… now that I think about it… I mean, Ed Greenwood, the guy who wrote… well, ‘wrote’... the Forgotten Realms setting for Dungeons and Dragons, he would claim that these three wizards from different worlds visited him because they all had portals to Earth, and that’s where he learned all this stuff? And, I mean, it’s like… neat bit of world-building there, guy! It never seemed as daft as, say, Robert Ervin Howard claiming Conan actually visited him and being completely serious about it. But it’s always supposed to have been that the D&D worlds are just… other worlds on the Prime Material Plane. So, no, I guess… everything was real all along, except whatever wasn’t, and we’ll never really know which is which.”

He frowns. “No, I’m talking about ‘sending Jon there to begin with.’” He clutches Jon’s arm tighter and almost glares at the cloaked figure. “Has Jon been a shadow elf this whole damn time?!”

Jon sighs. “According to…” they gesture at the Raven Queen, “...her, yes. I have been one of these ‘shadar-kai’ for some time. She had restored me to being a high elf when I awoke, but you were dying and I…” They look away. “I couldn’t let that happen. So I… told her to siphon the vitality of my form and give it to you so that you’d live.”

“You WHAT?!” Such terrible fury overtakes Martin that he turns to Jon and actually shakes them slightly. Jon’s eyes widen, and they start to open their mouth like they want to reply, but Martin’s still barrelling forward. He’s shouting in the shorter man’s face, shouting so he doesn’t cry.

“What happened to ‘one way or another, together?’ What happened to ‘where you go, I go?’ You’re just… you’re just doing it all again, after… after everything… I mean… Annabelle was right, Jon, it worked, you heard them, didn’t you?! And now you just… you just… give up your life to…” He trails off, blinking. Oh. Oh.

This is the Shadowfell. Martin was dying. If he’d died here, then he wouldn’t have been able to go with Jon, because he’d have been stuck here serving the Raven Queen.

One way or another, together.

Why does “or another” always have to be something bad, though?

“You would have had to remain here, had they not,” the Raven Queen puts in, echoing Martin’s thoughts. “This way, you can go together. Which, I take it, was the point.” She was regarding Martin, the tilt of the cloaked head seeming thoughtful.

By the expression on Jon’s face, some of the things Martin said hit hard; there’s a flicker of guilt and remorse before they pull themself together, bring their composure back up. They nod. “Exactly. I was doing what I had to so that we could go together.”

Martin feels sheepish now. He doesn’t like yelling at Jon; his love already puts so much on their own shoulders, and Martin doesn’t like the feeling that he’s trying to overpower Jon to get what he wants. He’s always terribly aware that he’s taller and bigger and stronger.

So he smiles and says, with a little shrug, “Guess that explains the half-elf thing, actually. If you put your energy in me, then…” And then he realizes how that sounds and starts blushing really hard.

It seems to have worked; Jon smiles a bit. “Usually you were the one putting energy into me.” Their tone is nonchalant. “What’s the phrase, turnabout is fair play?”

Martin knows damn well Jon does not mean that in the way he’s taking it, because Jon just doesn’t really… do innuendo most of the time and it’s pretty obvious when they are. Nonetheless it makes him blush more and then he catches Jon’s grin widen and… wait, no, was that… was Jon trying to make him blush...?

Ugh, the man confuses him sometimes.

Jon turns back to the Raven Queen as if they said nothing at all (and infuriatingly they might just be unaware of how their comment could be interpreted and Martin just can't tell) and says, “So… what is it that we are supposed to do to help this world?”

“I thought you would never ask.” Is that sarcasm from the Raven Queen? It seems it might be, a little. “There is a great evil that will be rising soon, and I am sending you to restore the balance. If this evil is not stopped, all Toril will be destroyed.”

Martin’s still distracted by Jon’s maybe-not-purposeful innuendo, so he’s not thinking when he mutters, “Oh, that’s helpful. Cryptic knowledge instead of just ‘here’s what you need to do.’ Again.”

The Raven Queen just… looks at him, the glowing eyes inside the cowl unblinking.

Martin blinks and stammers, realizing just who he’s talking to. “Oh. Oh! I didn’t… I mean… uhh… I’m sorry, y-your… Majesty….” He tries bowing a little. It’s still sinking in. Actual demigoddess.

This seems to pacify the cloaked figure. It’s not flying at him and attacking him, at least.

Jon just nods. “Very well. I trust that… between Martin’s knowledge of this world and our combined intuition we shouldn’t have too much trouble figuring it out.” They pause, then say, “Are we to do this on our own or can others assist us?” They look to Martin. “Will others assist us?”

“Oh, we’ll probably be able to find, umm… adventurers and such.” There’s a kind of giddy excitement rising in Martin. They're talking to an actual demi-quasi-goddess queen and they're in the Shadowfell and they're about to go on adventures in Toril.

“There will be others who will assist you,” the Raven Queen says cryptically. She looks between them both, then turns. “Come this way. I have something to return to you, ‘Jon.’”

Martin frowns as they follow, and whispers to Jon, “I don’t like the way she says that, like you should have some other name.”

Jon whispers back, “Well… given my knowledge of elves is limited to Tolkien and other high fantasy… Jon doesn’t exactly seem very ‘elf-like.’” They give Martin a pointed look. “Does it sound elf-like to you?”

“N-no… not really… I mean it could be short for, umm…” Martin thinks. Hard. “Uhhh… no, I’ve got nothing.”

The Raven Queen moves on into the room beyond the balcony, past the table on which unappetizing food is laid, while firmly ignoring the mortal blather going on behind her. Something about her attitude and tone, her movements, indicates that she clearly expected to be doing this earlier, before Jon got all “save my boyfriend or else” and  “I’m mortal now deal with it” on her, and while she’s put up with all of it thus far she’s reaching the end of her patience.

There’s a dias behind the table, and near the dias there’s a stand on which sits, in a place of honor and reverence, a long sword. It is made of a black metal that seems to absorb the shadows around it rather than reflect the minimal light of the room. The same black metal constructs the cross guard and hilt. On the pommel is a gem, possibly a sapphire, that gives off the only reflective glint of the weapon. The scabbard is plain, if well made, and is stained a matte black color as well--having the same light absorbent quality as the weapon itself.

Jon stares at the weapon with a look of awe and steps forward, their hand outstretched. “This… this is mine…” It’s not a question. It’s the same sort of look they had when they looked at Jonah Magnus in the Panopticon, and yet somehow it doesn’t bother Martin as much as it did before. Then he realizes that it doesn’t bother him because it’s not quite the same sort of look. There’s no envy there; it’s just a recognition that yes, this thing Jon’s looking at is meant for them even if they didn’t know it until this moment.

“I’ve never fought with a blade in my life… at least… not that I remember, but this is… it’s mine.” Jon looks to the Queen. “May I?”

The Queen merely nods.

Martin finds himself gaping. Jon is actually an elf, and has a magic shadow sword. “...I must be dreaming,” he whispers.

Jon reaches out and takes the sword in their hand. “I know this weapon…” They look at Martin and a chuckle escapes them. It’s not as mirthful as it once was, but it’s something. “This… I know it. I don’t know where the knowledge comes from… but I can use this.” They look so right holding the sword, like it was a piece of them that had been missing and only now was the picture of Jon complete.

Martin can’t really help it. “You are .i hot right now,” he bursts out, and then blushes, because the weird shadow queen’s right there. What is he thinking?

A tinge of pink comes to Jon’s cheeks in response and they busy themself sliding the sword into its pitch-black scabbard as if to try to hide the reaction. “Thank you,” they say to the Raven Queen. “Truly. I hope that more… memories? Knowledge? Come in time. Perhaps when next we meet, I can be more cordial and… more as you anticipated I should be.”

The Raven Queen takes a moment to look at Martin and murmur, “Mmm, yes, likely Sune.”

Martin sputters and stands there, just… blinking. Sune is the goddess of beauty in Faerun, their version of Aphrodite or Venus, and sure he's red-haired, but he couldn't possibly serve her! He can’t shake the feeling that the Raven Queen said that just to shut him up.

The cloaked figure turns to Jon then. “Of course. You are to be forgiven for this entire encounter; you have had a difficult time.” She gestures. “Come. There is a place not too far from here where you may travel to the Material Plane. My servants will outfit you and then take you there.” A pause. “While you travel this realm, do not stray. The place you go is not remotely safe for the living, and only my protection will keep you from being sold as slaves or meat.”

Jon straps the sword over their shoulder, not seeming to care that it looks terribly out of place with their clothes. “We will not. Thank you again, for all your generosity.”

Then they grab Martin by the arm and follow the Queen deeper into the fortress.

Next Chapter