#I thought it would be so obvious because he's literally been flirting nonstop since they met????

[skynapple]

I watched the Marius 1st year anni thing and I gotta say

MC thinking their feelings for Mari were one sided was not on my bingo card for this game

[sam-roulette]

the only polyarchives au on my mind is an au where Sasha finally confides in Tim that maybe she has a small crush on Jonathan Sims and he immediately drags her into the breakroom, where Martin is already sitting, and both shake her hand and welcome her to the “trying to get Jon to fucking notice they have feelings for him” club which has been going on for Months now. she predictably is like “what”

Martin explains that Jon is the most oblivious motherfucker on the planet when it comes to romantic attraction. he and tim have been dropping obvious hints nonstop since October. Martin literally handed Jon a love note with his tea once and Jon thought it was the name of the tea. Tim’s tried every technique in the book. it’d be one thing if Jon rejected them out right but he keeps misattributing their flirtations to something Else, and he never seems to Realize That They Are Flirting With Him. Tim and Martin are at the ends of their ropes. 

Sasha’s like okay well, have you guys ever tried asking him Directly. and Tim says “yeah I tried! Mentioned we could go out for drinks after work! then he immediately invited you and Henry from research thinking it was a work bonding thing!” and Sasha’s like OKAY so have either of you Directly Told Jon that you want to Go Out On A Date With Him. In those exact terms. and both Tim and Martin are quite silent about that one. 

so now Sasha’s got something to prove and dammit, she needs to do something about these feelings, so over the next week she works up the courage (and spite from watching Martin and Tim fall over themselves trying to get Jon’s attention in somewhat subtler ways) to directly say to Jon the exact words, “You’re an interesting guy- want to go on a date? could be coffee or something,” 

and jon’s like “is this another prank,” and sasha’s like “that was only like one time and I’m being serious, I would like to go on a date with you” and Jon just says, “well! i dont believe you. see you on monday :)” and fucking leaves. 

Sasha is just left sitting in the head archivist office, staring at the wall, because genuinely How. on the one hand, she’s pretty sure that was a rejection, on the other hand, she has no idea if Jon was being genuine about thinking this was a prank, and now is just stuck with a giant question mark. Tim and Martin come in with wine and blankets to recover from the Jon-induced shock. they understand. 

(the secret is that Jon has in fact been picking up all the signals loud and clear but has been agonizing over whether they’re actually there or if his stupid three-way crush on all of his fucking coworkers is causing him to see something that isn’t there, thus leading to the destruction of their friendship

shenanigans ensue)

[fandomcelery]

Feelings are complicated, aren't they?

Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce

Word Count: 2107

Rating: Teens and Up

Tags: Sexuality Crisis, Internalized Homophobia, Pining

Beta: @useless-fanfictions helped me out a lot on this fic, especially since I'm just starting out writing, so a big thanks to them!

Summary: Walking next to Brittany felt normal and right, but at that moment it felt slightly wrong. A bunch of questions were running through her mind. Was she acting differently? Was it obvious that something was off? Oh god, does everyone think that she’s gay?

Or, the one where Santana realizes she might have feelings for Brittany and panics over it.

Read it on Ao3

For the Glee Character "This-or-That" Challenge: @gleethisorthatchallenge

Prompt: Sharing a bed or Sexuality Crisis

The way Santana feels around Brittany is normal, right? Sure, she’s never felt it for any other person—not even any of her previous boyfriends—but it’s a completely normal feeling. And yeah, okay, she also defends Brittany all the time when people insult or make fun of her, and when Brittany sticks up for her and is always by her side, she can never stop smiling. She always feels warm whenever she compliments her about literally anything that she’s wearing, or how her hair looks that day, or really anything that makes Santana feel pretty.

There’s also the fact that they have sex regularly even though they’re in relationships with guys who would willingly have sex with them as well, but that’s different. It must be different, because if it’s not—

No, it’s not an option for it to not be anything but platonic. It’s got to be, it just has to be.

Even though Santana hates when people flirt with Brittany and will usually try to scare them off when others aren’t looking. Or when they get into fights or arguments, big or small, she feels like shit when she can’t talk to Brittany, and then that means they can’t have their sweet lady kisses that make Santana feel like they are the only two people left on the entire planet.

Feelings are complicated, aren’t they?

As long as she always stands her ground, keeping their relationship just friends, and convincing Brittany—and a little bit of herself—that even though they’re in relationships they can have sex and it’s not cheating because they’re both girls, she will be fine. She just has to keep telling herself that their relationship isn’t anything, that they’re strictly friends and that she doesn’t have feelings for her best friend, because if she did then she wouldn’t know what she would do with herself.

She’s not homophobic, and just because Kurt freaking Hummel struts around with his gay flag waving in the air doesn’t mean that everyone can or has to. And even if they do, they’ll get bullied and harassed, just like him. It’s the way that everything goes, the straight popular kids are on top, and the gays are at the bottom, even though that’s ridiculous, it’s the way it goes.

She’ll just keep it to herself—even though there’s nothing there, obviously—and everything will be fine. She hopes that if she keeps telling herself that then maybe it will be.

***

Of course, that’s not what happens. The following Monday, after the weekend Santana had realized that something is different, it seemed like everyone has been staring at the two of them differently, but it might just be her paranoia talking.

Walking next to Brittany felt normal and right, but at that moment it felt slightly wrong. A bunch of questions were running through her mind. Was she acting differently? Was it obvious that something was off? Oh god, does everyone think that she’s gay? She is suddenly on the defensive side, glaring at the people who she thought were looking at her and Brittany weirdly. Maybe people always looked at them this way and neither of them ever noticed or cared; except now she did.

She knows the route they take to get to their next classes by heart because they always walk together, even though their schedules don’t really line up. Most people think that all the Cheerios just walk to class together in groups because the outfits look good together—which they do, she thinks conceitedly—and because of the cheerleading cliques. For a while that’s why Quinn, Brittany, and Santana would walk together, but then they actually got kind of close because of Glee Club, and now Quinn walks with Finn to her classes and Santana walks with Brittany.

During her fourth period that she has alone she can’t stop thinking about Brittany. How when she walks to class she hugs her binder to her chest, or how during class she always fidgets with her pencil when she’s in between writing, or how even if she doesn’t care about what people are talking about, she’ll listen to them anyway (like this one time a few days ago when they had arrived early to glee club and Rachel had come up to Brittany and her to ask for dance lessons, going on and on about something that had to do with her being a star and needing to know how to dance better, and Santana had only been paying attention to Brittany and ignored Rachel’s harping), Santana admires the way Brittany exists, and how it seems like nothing really bothers her. She doesn’t know why all of the sudden it’s hitting her, especially since she’s been friends with her for so long, and no, she doesn’t have feelings for her, they’re just friends.

***

They walk to their usual seats during lunch together, every now and again bumping shoulders with how close they are while they’re talking. Santana sits down across from Brittany, as she doesn’t miss a beat from what she’s saying to sit down.

“And I swear that Lord Tubbington has a gambling addiction, but he won’t stop—” she takes a bite of her food, “—and I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you just take away his laptop privileges?” Santana suggests, also taking a bite of her own food. It’s not bad, however, it’s not good. Then again, it’s the school’s food. When she looks up at Brittany, she looks quizzical, like she hasn’t thought of doing that.

“That probably would work,” Brittany responds, and continues eating.

Santana’s focused on something else. That something else is Brittany’s physical appearance, everything about her: to her flashing smile, to her thin and perfect eyebrows. her slim waist, long legs, and her torso—which she shouldn’t be staring at in the middle of school, and yet she is. She is stunning to Santana, with her lean appearance and bright golden colored hair pulled perfectly back into a ponytail. Her blue eyes seem to twinkle all the time.

“Santana?” Brittany asks after she’s been staring for a moment or two.

“Huh, what? Sorry, I was just, thinking,” she responds quickly and looks away to other tables where other kids are sitting, she lets go of her lip that she must have been biting on.

“About what?” Brittany takes another bite of her food, almost finished, whereas Santana has barely touched hers.

“Nothing important,” she mumbles, taking a drink from her water bottle. The answer seems to satisfy Brittany and they go back to normal and easy conversation like Santana hadn’t been just staring at her best friend’s boobs.

***

Glee Club isn’t that different. Rachel and Mercedes are fighting for a solo that Mr. Schue handed out, he doesn’t know how to handle it, and so they’re trying to argue over one another. Finn, Puck, Matt, and Mike are making bets about something in football. Kurt, Tina, and Artie are talking about something—she can’t hear their conversation, and honestly doesn’t care—and so it’s Quinn, Brittany and her talking about the Cheerios like they always are.

“Sue’s been on our asses about winning at Nationals,” Quinn comments as she sits down next to Brittany.

“She’s just concerned about staying on top,” Santana remarks, looking around the choir room. She looks up at the two who are arguing over one another and laughs a little bit. Everyone knows that Rachel’s going to get the solo, she usually does. Mercedes probably knows that, too, and yet she’s still going to fight for it.

“And her paycheck,” Quinn adds.

Eventually Mr. Schue stood in front of the class, apparently they had sorted it out where Rachel got this solo and Mercedes would get the next one.

This Glee practice they were going to focus on their choreography added with singing, and it wasn’t that big of an issue for the three cheerleaders (and it was mostly for the jocks to practice anyway, since they were the ones having problems, other than Mike, surprisingly).

Afterwards everyone was tired and sore, they had to start over a bunch of times because someone kept messing up (Finn). Slowly the choir room emptied, and Brittany and Santana walked to their next class together. They were going to walk with Quinn, but she had muttered something about a “troll trying to steal her boyfriend” and went off to walk with Finn. They separated at their different classrooms, and the three of them were going to meet up for Cheerios practice that was after school, which was their usual plan.

***

After practice Santana was even more exhausted than when she left Glee rehearsal. She grabs her water bottle that she had placed in her locker when she first got there. She gulps down a quarter of the bottle before putting it back.

There are many girls around her, yet the only one she’s focused on is Brittany.

Ever since they walked into the locker room, Brittany, and another cheerleader—Hailey was her name—were talking nonstop to one another. It’s not like Santana was eavesdropping, but it’s not her fault they were standing so close and speaking so God damn loudly.

“One time she made a girl cry just because she talked back,” Hailey continues while she brushes her hair in the mirror.

“I know, I was there,” Brittany responds, leaning up against the lockers next to Hailey’s that no one’s using. “Sue can be a bitch sometimes.”

Hailey wraps her hair in a ponytail and starts to put the hair tie around it. “Don’t let her hear you say that she might move you down the pyramid,” she jokes, which gets a laugh out of Brittany. “However, she is the best cheerleading coach McKinley can offer, so I guess we’ll have to put up with it,” Hailey states.

They all know that that’s true, no other teacher will coach the Cheerios, and she’s the only one that’s gotten them to Nationals and gets a pretty big paycheck put towards the cheerleading team.

And listen, Santana doesn’t do jealous, okay? And she’s not. She just doesn’t like Brittany hanging out with another person so closely. And it’s because no one understands her like Santana does is all. And sure, Brittany has other friends, but usually they go through Santana to talk to her, so she knows them, or they’re all in the conversation. This is an entire new person, and they’re jokingtogether, which Brittany can do on her own, of course, but-

“Stop pining and either go talk with them or leave already,” Quinn mutters behind her.

Santana whips around and glares at her, and Quinn smirks.

“Oh, come on, don’t think I didn’t notice.” She walks past Santana to get to her locker, and Santana decides to do what Quinn suggested.

She grabs her water bottle from her locker and makes sure all of her things are put away before she leaves to head home.

***

She can’t be in love with her best friend, right? Sure, she and Brittany are close, and they do practically everything together, and Santana loves everything about Brittany, but that doesn’t mean she’s in love with Brittany.

Those thoughts are how Santana finds herself pacing in her room, not for the first time in the last few days, lost in thought. She looks over at the photos that she has on her walls of all of the Cheerios, but there are a few of either her, Brittany, and Quinn, or just the two of them.

She walks over and picks one up to look at it. She gets the same feeling that she’s been getting every time she thinks about Brittany, yet she’s been ignoring it for a while now. Except this time, she doesn’t. She feels butterflies in her stomach and doesn’t even realize she is smiling at Brittany’s picture. She sets down the photo when she does catch herself, and goes to lay down on her bed.

Even if she was gay, how would she know? Would having feelings that aren’t actually feelings enough to be considered gay? And what would everyone else think? Maybe she should turn to the internet, she thinks. She sits up and grabs her laptop that she keeps on her bedside table and loads it up.

A few searches later she realizes that maybe terms like bisexual or even lesbian fit her. Some more questions pop up in her head after that realization, but at least one thing’s certain.

Santana is in love with her best friend, and she has no idea what she’s going to do about it.

[firemblem-fics]

teacher. | felix fraldarius

-> Pairing: Felix Hugo Fraldarius x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Slight Angst, Fluff

-> Warnings: Sexual Innuendos, Sword Fighting

-> A/N: i really don’t know if i’m back back but here’s a little something lol. it’s frfr comp cheer season so my schedule is now even more packed than usual. i should be back after december? idk it depends because then it’s ✨pageant time✨but yeah thanks for being patient with me i’m sorry

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“What? What did I do?”

“You’re holding the sword wrong. One hit and your wrist will break.” The man scolding you, Felix, scoffed.

You were a magic wielder, specialized in white magic and healing. You figured that you could hold your own rather well on the battlefield, but you still felt a little uneasy about your skills at times. This feeling made you pursue the art of swordsmanship, with your teacher being the one and only Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

You should have known that training with Felix wouldn’t be easy, but you still were shocked every time he reprimanded your technique or fighting strategies harshly. You considered yourself to be his friend, but it was obvious that such a title held no power when it came to training.

“Hold it closer to the hilt. Thumb on top- no, no, not that close- Goddess, Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

Furrowing your brows, you tried once more to correct your grip on the weapon. You really didn’t think swords would be this difficult and you considered quitting in favor of the lance, but those thoughts were shoved aside when Felix huffed and walked towards you, grabbing ahold of both the sword and your wrist.

He took your fingers and wrapped them correctly around the hilt, absentmindedly closing his own over them for a split second. Not long enough for anyone else in the training hall to notice, but enough for the both of you to feel sparks shooting up your arms.

Too soon, Felix let go of you and raised his own training sword. “Try to block my attacks. If you touch your blade for a stronger block, make sure not to actually grab the sharp part. Just use your palm to push. It’s a training sword, but it can still hurt you-“

“Hey, hey, hey, Felix and Y/N!”

You watched as Felix visibly deflated. He rolled his eyes and dropped his stance, but his fingers still danced dangerously against the sword.

“What do you want, Sylvain?”

“I just wanted to come ask this sweetie here for dinner and tea later on.~” Sylvain’s arm wrapped around your shoulder and he squished his cheek against yours.

You grimaced. Ever since Sylvain began suspecting something going on between you and Felix, he’d been trying nonstop to make the man jealous enough to snap. To any other outsider, it just seemed that Sylvain wanted a little fling with you and Felix just despised Sylvain, like normal, but the red-headed man knew his childhood best friend well enough to know that he was reaching his limits.

“She’s training with me after dinner.” Said man responded coldly.

“Please, Fe~ Give me an evening with her, you’re always hogging her time.” He turned to you and jokingly pressed a chaste kiss against your cheek, reveling in the fire that began to burn brighter in Felix’s eyes. “Y/N, c’mon. You won’t regret it, especially if you decide to spend the night-“

“Enough!” Felix raised his voice and everyone in the training hall turned their heads. Your face burned a bright red from the attention of both Sylvain and everyone else. “Y/N, let’s go train somewhere where imbeciles can’t interrupt.”

Sylvain laughed heartily. “You are unbelievable.” He said to Felix, before turning to you. “The offer’s always on the table, darling.”

“She’s not taking it.” Felix seethed, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the hall.

He led you behind the stables, where a rather roomy alleyway was located. Not many students took this route on their way to places, so you expected to be alone for a while. You wiped your hands on your shirt before readjusting your grip on your sword, suddenly nervous about being alone with the handsome fighter. However, you didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Felix raised his sword and came charging towards you.

Your eyes widened and you quickly parried his swing, stepping to the right and jabbing your sword towards his side. Felix was able to predict your movements- they were that of a beginner, of course- and he swiftly deflected your blade with his own, pushing it away.

Felix was fully offensive, rapidly swinging his sword down on you. You were able to deflect, parry, and block most of his attacks until his foot swept across your ankles, knocking you to the floor. You winced as you fell onto your elbows. Felix stood above you, ready to press his sword into your throat to claim victory, but you grabbed your own weapon and thrust it up, your arms shaking as you tried to counter the weight of his attack.

Felix leaned in, getting close to your crossed blades, and smirked. “You’re doing better.”

You finally let go of the breath you were holding as he relinquished his attack and stood up, allowing you to join him and recover. “You absolutely did not have to go that hard on me.”

“It was beneficial for the both of us. You won’t improve unless the lessons are hard and I needed to let off some steam. It’s a win-win, so why are you complaining?”

“Because you suddenly attacked me! Whatever steam you needed to blow off should not pertain to me. You’re my teacher in this, I’m not your little dummy to beat up!” You nearly cried. You felt as though you were being a little unreasonable, but you had literally started studying the blade a week ago. You weren’t ready for such an intensive fight.

“It did pertain to you, idiot!” Felix snapped back, but suddenly shut his mouth and clenched his jaw. He turned his back to you, beginning to walk away. “We start again tomorrow morning.”

“Wait- wait, Felix, what do you mean?” You followed behind him, but he never answered. You didn’t want to push him so much, but he was nearly out of the alleyway and you probably wouldn’t get another chance to talk to him alone like this. “How is it about me? What did I do?”

Felix stayed silent again, so you grabbed his wrist. He harshly yanked it away and faced you. “It’s about what you didn’t do, Y/N.”

You looked at him, confused. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but continued.

“Sylvain was obviously flirting with you. And you let him! Are you attracted to him or something? Goddess, if you are, I won’t ever understand how.”

“Wh-?” Slowly, but surely, some pieces were coming together for you. You just wanted to hear Felix say his thoughts out loud. “I feel nothing for Sylvain. I thought he was just joking. Is that why you got upset at him? Because he was flirting with me?” Felix nodded. “Why?”

“You’re- you’re ridiculous. I can’t believe I have feelings for such a stupid girl.”

You both flushed red, unable to say anything for a few moments as you let it all sink in. Finally, you stepped forward and reached for Felix’s hands. He let you, and you held them gently in between your own.

“And I can’t believe I have feelings for my own teacher.”

“Professor?!”

“Oh my Goddess- No!”’

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Mages Don’t Meddle

Rating: M

Genre: Angst/Mild Fluff

Word count: 16091

Summary: In a world where magic users must fear each other, Baz Pitch, a British born hex hiding in the 19th century American southwest, is just trying to stay alive. But when he meets a fellow British hex, his world is turned upside down in the most awful, amazing ways possible. PLEASE READ FIRST AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!

Read on AO3

AN: Alright some of you may know that my favourite book series of all time is The Hexslinger Series by Gemma Files. It’s a gory but brilliant horror/dark fantasy weird western trilogy about gay cowboy wizards fighting Aztec gods. (It's also where my AO3 username comes from). I've been writing this AU on and off for like two years now lol. So when I saw this event, I saw it as motivation to finally finish it. And I did! Idk how many people are gonna like this, considering the obscurity of the books. The mythos is a bit complicated so here are the basic rules of the Hexslinger world:

1. Magic users exist, called "hexes" or "hexslingers” by most English speakers. They’re commonly known of and feared by some humans because of their immense, usually unstable power. Their magic is usually called "hexation" and a common descriptor for anything to do with them is "hexacious." Being a hex can either be passed down from parent to child or appears randomly. Most are children of a hex man and a human woman as pregnancy for a hex woman can be very risky to mother and child, but it's still possible.

2. Hexes aren’t usually born having magic. Their powers manifest at some point later in their lives except in very rare circumstances. For women it usually appears after their first period, while for men it’s usually after some sort of grievous bodily harm, e.g getting hanged or beaten. Before manifestation, some hexes show no sign of magic at all, while others have hints like perfect aim or weirdly good luck. It depends on the person and their power level.

3. Hex magic varies between people based on personality, culture, family history, and power level/type. For example, an experienced Chinese born hex with refined power will have a very different kind of magic than a newly manifested American born hex with more chaotic power. (That’s literally just from the original books lol.) Even hexes similar in multiple aspects can be completely different in the way their magic is expressed.

4. The only universal trait between hexes is that they all have the urge to feed off each other’s magic. They’re like magic vampires (wink wink). If they get too close to each other, they have the immediate urge to absorb the other's power and kill them. It’s completely instinctual and very hard to resist. Hence why hexes can’t be around each other. Or, to use the common phrase from the universe, “mages don’t meddle.”Okay that's the basics. There's A LOT of other stuff but I think that's all you need to know for this fic imo.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: So there's some period typical racism scattered around due Baz being brown in the 19th century American south. It's not too harsh imo but I still want to warn people. I hope I handled it alright, considering I'm a white af Canadian Irish-Jew, but if I didn't I'm very sorry. There's also a bit of period typical homophobia at the start. The closest I get to slurs is the use of "red" and "Indian" in reference to Indigenous people, "queer" in a negative context, references to sand because Baz says he's Egyptian, and Baz being called "darker folk." I felt it would be disingenuous to not include bigotry of the past and pretend things would be all okay for a queer POC like Baz. Especially since Hexslinger itself has major themes of homophobia, racism, and not being accepted in the majority of society. A few mentions of suicide, self harm, and torture too in relation to hex powers emerging too, which is also major in Hexslinger. The series itself is pretty brutal and dirty with lots of bigotry, blood, guts, and death. So those elements have gotten in here. There is some flesh burning stuff but I don't think it's that graphic, feels pretty typical for Carry On imo. Hopefully this all works well/makes sense.

As always, big thanks to Raegan of @carryonmylovelies Now with that all out of the way, enjoy!

———————————————

I gingerly take a sip of my whiskey. It's a horrible rotgut shite, but there’s worse stuff out in the wild west. This Slipfoot Joe’s seems to be okay by my now very, very low standards for this area.

“Well well, if it ain’t a pretty red boy,” the man behind me croons. His voice makes evey inch of my skin crawl.

I let out a deep sigh. I’ve been expecting this, but I’m still not pleased. “Piss off, arsehole.”

“Oh! Didn’t know Indians could sound English!”

“I’m British Egyptian, you twit.”

The man leans on the bar, smiling wide. It’s easier to count the few teeth he has than guess how many he’s lost. “What brings your sandy ass to our great country?”

The Call. The unending Call that signals all of us to come here.

I take another long sip. “Your gorgeous face, obviously. How much do you charge? I’ve heard American men are cheaper here than in England.”

The man reels back scowling. “You think I’m some queer?!”

“Well, I assumed so. Considering you were just flirting with me, a man.”

He snarls, whipping out his pathetic little pistol. The barrel shakes nonstop. “You got some nerve, boy!”

I finish the whiskey and delicately place the glass rim first on the filthy bar. “And you’re a racist bastard. You don’t see me getting all pissy.”

The gunshot happens in slow motion for me. I don’t even need to turn. I simply hold one hand in front of me and let my magic pour from me like a dragon’s breath. It curls out in front of me, a circle of blacks and charcoal greys and burning scarlets. Every hex’s magic is different. Mine is like a constant roaring fire, always threatening to consume me.

The bullet hits the shield with a tinny clink. Racist Man is frozen with wide, terrified eyes. I turn to him, orange and red reflecting in my grey eyes.

“You- You’re... a hex?!” He splutters.

“Thought that was pretty bloody obvious. Now go, before I drink your blood.”

Racist Man and his buddy scamper out of the tavern. I let the force field dissipate, crackling and popping in the air like a dying campfire. Joe, the bartender and eponymous Slipfoot, sighs as he cleans another glass.

“You know,” Joe says, “I’ve met other hexes. They’re stupid reckless assholes but they ain’t ever drank blood. Just suck each other’s magic.”

I chuckle. “Well they don’t know that, do they?”

“No, lucky for you. What’s a Brit like you even doin’ here anyway?”

My mouth presses into a thin line. I envy him. He can't hear The Call from that damned Hex City. I heard it all the way in Washington, and before I knew it I was on a train southeast. The only reason I haven’t actually gone to the horrid place is sheer stubbornness.

“I’m a hex. Where else would I be going?”

Joe freezes. He stares at me with more concern than fear. “I’d be careful, son. Those hexes I met? One of them was Reverend Rook himself. He’s beyond bad news, ‘specially with that heathen goddess by his side.”

“I know.” I trace my finger on the old wood, trying to focus on that instead of the ringing in my head. “But what choice do I have?”

———————————————

1867, two years after America’s bloody civil war, and it seems they’re about to be plunged into a new one. Except it won’t be slavery versus abolition this time, but humans versus magic. 

The news has spread like wildfire. In the final days of the war, a confederate soldier and unofficial chaplain named “Reverend” Asher Rook was sentenced to hang for abandoning his regiment. But he survived, and the suffering of the ordeal caused his hex powers to emerge. Rumour has it one Bible verse from his lips can level an entire town. Rook decided to use his new powers to steal and murder his way through the west, aided by his ruthless gunslinging lieutenant (and rumoured lover) Chess Pargeter.

He should’ve been just another hex outlaw for those American Pinkertons to take down. But somehow, a mere month ago, Rook made a pact with an Aztec goddess. And together they’ve created New Azteclan, or Hex City to the common man. According to the magical homing signal I hear, that every hex hears, it’s a place where hexes can lose their insatiable urge to feed off each other’s magic. We’ll no longer have to be loners by nature, picked off one by one by humanity. We could be together. We could be safe.

But at what cost? Nothing in life comes without a cost. I know that too well. My magic cost me my home, my family, and a good part of my sanity. I’d do anything to not be a danger to others anymore. And the possibility is right there. All I need to do is go further south and cross the border into Mexico to reach Hex City. But once I do that, there’s no going back. The temptation of the Call will be too strong. And whatever price The Reverend wants, he’ll get it from me.

I sit at the fire, chewing on some absolutely horrific jerky. I’m trying to focus on the flames instead of the voice in my head. I’m not sure whose it is. Maybe Rook’s, maybe his witch goddess’. It doesn’t have a discernible tone, just sort of an indistinct everyman sound, or a thousand voices speaking the same thing. Either way, it’s very annoying.

Come, it whispers. Come seek out Ixchel, the Mother of Hanged Men. Come stand before Her priest-king, to offer up your service. Come to build the First City of the Sixth World- the world of wonder, the world of power. Come, and join New Azteclan.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I shout into emptiness, slamming the side of my head with my fist.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” someone replies weakly.

I bolt up. My magic roars to life inside me, a fireball forming in the palm of my hand. “Who said that?!”

The man slowly steps out of the darkness. He must be no older than myself, with his young, round freckled face. He has curly bronze hair, capped by an old second hand cowboy hat. His brown leather coat, plaid shirt, riding boots, and jeans are all filthy with desert dirt. A horse with saddle bags stands behind him. His blue eyes are wide and nervous. I notice a smell on him. Like green fire and smoke, with a strong scent of something brown and sweet. He smells like something I would gladly eat.

He’s a hex.

“Don’t you dare come any closer, you prick,” I say between gritted teeth. “I won’t hesitate to burn you to a crisp.”

The other boy shakes his head. “I’m not here to drain you. I...I just wanted to ask for some help.” He sounds British like me, but more rough and nervous, stumbling over his words.

“Yeah, right. Do I look that gullible? ‘Mages don’t meddle.’ We’d all drain each other dry if we were given the chance.”

He sighs heavily. “Well, of course I want to by instinct, but I’m not going to. I was just wondering if you had any food. All of mine got stolen by some angry humans.”

I consider just turning him away, or draining his magic and leaving his dried out corpse for the vultures. But he looks so desperate. How long has this young man been out here alone? My aunt had always warned me to be wary of all other hexes. We’re a bloodthirsty species, Basil. Never trust another hex, ever. Not even me. But I’m not my aunt.

I sit down again. “Fine. You can have some jerky. Just don’t come too close alright? I’d like to keep my magic and soul where they are, please.”

The man smiles (he has a nice smile) and sits opposite me at the fire. I throw a bag of jerky, and he catches in one hand. He shoves it in his mouth like a ravenous animal.

“So,” I say, “what’s your name?”

“Simon Snow,” he rep;ies, mouth still half full. “Your’s?”

“Baz Pitch.” Simon chuckles a bit, and I frown. “What’s so funny?

“Well, Baz Pitch is a pretty ridiculous name.”

“No more ridiculous than Simon Snow,” I snap. “What, were you named by circus performers?”

“Maybe. Not sure, actually.” Snow looks at the fire, but it feels like he’s looking right through it, his gaze very far away.

“Why’s that?”

Simon shakes his head. “Hey, are you going to Hex City?”

I huff, blowing some loose, dirty hair out of my eyes. I’m too tired to stop him from changing the subject. “I don’t know. Are you?

He shrugs. “Maybe. So far I am. The stories and Call do make it sound so wonderful.”

I scoff loudly. “Of course they do. Rook wants people to come. Then we’ll get there and be sacrificed to his bloodthirsty goddess. That’s probably what happened to Pargeter. No one’s heard from him lately, according to the locals.”

“But we’ll lose the hunger! What if the Reverend just wants us to be safe? Y’know, as a kindness to his own people.”

“No one does anything out of kindness, Snow. Least of all hexes.”

“You gave me food out of kindness, didn’t you?”

I glare at him over the flames. He shrugs with a faint smile. Fuck. He has a really nice smile.

 “I’m going to sleep,” I mutter. “But I’m putting a shield around me. Touch it and you’ll be burned alive. So don’t get any ideas about taking my magic.”

Simon throws his hands up in innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I lay down on my pallet, throwing up my force field. The crackle and hiss of magic around me distracts from the beautiful mage no more than seven feet from me. Whom I’m not sure I want to kiss or kill. Maybe both.

��——————————————

I wake when the sun's centre in the sky. I’m breathing, so this Simon Snow hasn’t drained me dry. That’s good, I guess. 

I sit up bleary eyed. Snow is passed out on his own cot, drooling profusely with his mouth wide open (mouth breather). He’s put up his own shield, of course, (at least he’s somewhat sensible). It sort of looks like an electrical explosion, white bolts constantly combusting around him in bubble form. He smells so powerful. It’s taking all of my willpower to not hurt him. To not submit to my basic hex desires.

I take my sweet time to pack my things and douse the fire pit, secretly hoping Simon will wake up before I run out of excuses. Luckily, with a very loud snort, Snow bolts upwards. There’s terror in his eyes, and his breath is uneven and shallow. I know that look. I’m no stranger to nightmares myself.

“A good morning to you, Snow,” I say.

Simon lets out a long breath, waving a hand to dissolve his shield. “You didn’t kill me.”

“And you didn’t kill me. What a miracle.”

“I’ll say. Are you leaving?”

“Obviously.”

“Where to?”

I sigh heavily. “Well, my map says, there’s a town southeast from here. I haven’t been there before but it probably isn’t too bad. I was going to hide there for at least a bit.”

Simon picks at his nail beds, even though they’re already ragged and bloody. “Can I...can I come with you? I haven’t been around anyone in so long, y’know. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to”

I look at him with the most neutral gaze I can muster. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

“There’s still time.”

Simon stands up, brushing the dust off his pants. “Alright, then I’ll make myself very clear. Baz, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to fight you at all, alright?”

I must admit that I’ve been lonely these few months in the desert. Hell, I’ve been lonely for the past few years. I’ve actually missed the company of others. But it’s not like humans or hexes want to be around me. Except for this one, it seems. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. If we don’t kill each other first that is.

“Alright, fine. Just don’t try anything or I’ll burn you from the inside out.”

Simon keeps smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We mount our horses and ride off. I try to keep my eyes ahead instead of on Snow.

———————————————

“I can’t believe the food here,” Snow says. “It’s so much more spicy than in the North.”

“We are closer to Mexico, Snow,” I reply. I’m trying to figure out our route, while also listening to Snow when he’s more than six feet away. The hunger is manageable from this distance. Mostly.

“Well, yeah, but it’s so insane! Why can’t the north people get some spice from here? It would make their chicken more tolerable. London street food was awful but at least it had some flavour!”

That makes me snort out a laugh no matter how much I try not to. Snow grins at me, and his face is literal sunshine. Why must he be so perfect? It’s not fair. “London street food? You mean fish and chips? Those aren’t half bad, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Snow’s tawny face gets a little pink. He rubs the back of his slightly sunburnt neck. “Y-Yeah, they weren’t too bad. Just...other stuff was terrible...”

“Like what?” It’s not late at night now. I’m less inclined to let his dodging go. Call me crazy, but I’d like to know about the man I’m travelling with.

“Um...” He looks down at his horse’s neck. “I-I lived on the London streets, literally, until I was old enough to work for room and board. Finding anyone who would house a hex though, that was a challenge.”

His laugh is tinny and hollow. My heart, or what dark horrible mass we hexes have in place of one, twists at the words. I wish I was surprised. His story is all too familiar.

“You don’t need to be ashamed,” I say firmly. “We all have our own rough pasts. It’s practically required for hexes, in my eyes.”

Snow doesn’t look up, but his (pretty) plain blue eyes flick over to me. “Really?”

I nod. “Yes, of course. Hexes are usually shunned and harmed. Finding one who hasn’t been in a dire situation is more rare.”

“Have you met a lot of hexes?”

“Some. Mostly, I’ve heard stories. Far too many are like your’s.”

“Is your’s?”

My grip on the reins is so tight my knuckles are going pale. Memories rush through my head no matter how much I want to stop them. The darkness, the pain, the fire, then the stench of burnt human flesh, all capped off by years of trying to survive on my own.

“Unfortunately, ye-”

“What the fuck?!”

Simon’s screech is ungodly in volume and tone. His horse lets out a similarly panicked bray. She bucks up, but can’t get very high with the red vines tangled around her legs.

“Oh fuck,” I hiss. I try to pull back my own horse, but his legs are similarly wrapped up. The vines circle up and around us. I kick and stamp them with all my might. The blood red flowers look like the gaping mouths of monsters.

“What the fuck are these things?!” Snow bellows. He tries to rear his horse back, but nearly throws himself backwards off his saddle instead. “Fucking shite!”

“Don’t do that, Snow, it won’t help!”

“Then what should I do?!” 

“Just stay still!”

Thankfully, Snow does as I say. Not thankfully, I’m not sure what to do. I know that human blood gets rid of the Weeds, but even if I count as human in this regard, you need a relatively large amount of it. So unless I want to pass out, I’ll need to think of something else. But what else can curb evil bloodthirsty Aztec plants?

“Baz!” Snow’s horse pancis the more the weeds wrap around her, which makes Snow panic in turn. He looks at me with desperate wide eyes. “Baz, do something!”

Oh, fuck it. I’ll solve this the way I solve my other problems.

I reach deep within myself, down to the flames that burn in what’s hopefully my soul, or at least what hexes have instead. I grab that power and let it out through my arm. Fire roars to life in the palm of my hand, and I unleash the full force of it on the Weeds. A tidal wave of blackened-red flames engulf the plants.

“Jesus Christ!” Simon shouts. The plants don’t burn per se, I’m not sure they even can. But they still shrink away from us. I keep pushing more magic out until they Weeds a good distance away. 

“Run,” I say, “now!”

Snow and I both wrench our horses 180 degrees and run like the wind. We ride fast and far with no destination, but we keep each other in sight. Only when my pulse is no longer hammering in my ears do I start to slow down. Snow follows, and eventually we stop near a large tree. All four of us are breathing hard.

“Bloody hell,” Snow says. “W-What the fuck were those?”

“Red Plague Weeds,” I reply, dismounting my horse. “They’ve been popping up all around here. No one knows where they come from, but we’re all pretty sure they have something to do with Rook and his witch goddess. Just like every other bizarre thing nowadays.”

“How come I haven’t seen them before in the towns?”

“Because the way to get rid of the Weeds permanently is blood, Snow.”

Snow’s eyes go wide with horror. “Blood? Any blood?”

I sadly shake my head. “No, only fresh human blood. I’ve heard a bowl full collected from the townsfolk is good enough. I don’t even know if hex blood counts. No one’s ever tried, as far as I know. We’re extremely lucky we got away.”

“So I gathered,” Snow sighs. “Now what? We’ve gone a good way backwards now, if I had to guess.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to try and move around the Weeds. If we’re lucky, the town will still be reachable.”

“No one has ever called hexes lucky.”

We both laugh a little. Sometimes laughter is the only way to deal with our horrible existences. I pull the waterskin out of my bag and take a deep, long drink. “Let’s stay here for a moment, though. That blast took a lot out of me.”

“Y-Yeah, that makes sense. Um, I’ll just...”

He turns his horse to the side, trotting away from me. My stomach drops out. Where’s he going? Am I going to be alone again? I’ve only been with Snow for one day. That’s nothing compared to the last two years I’ve been on my own. But now I can’t imagine going back to that crushing, never ending loneliness.

“Heading out, Snow?” I keep my tone neutral, holding back the desperate tremor that threatens to bleed out. “Suppose I’ll see you around, then.”

Snow whips his head around. If I were a more hopeful person, I’d say he looks even more panicked than when we were tangled in the Weeds. “W-What? No, I was just gonna go a little further away...”

“Do I smell that bad?” I probably do. Hygiene is not a priority in these parts.

“No! The opposite, actually...” Snow looks to the side, a little red on his face. “You used a lot of magic before. I can still smell some of it. I, uh, want to keep my promise...”

Oh. Right. I should count myself lucky that he didn’t drain me the minute we stopped. “Yes, yes, of course, makes perfect sense.”

“Unless...you want me to go...”

I gulp down the massive lump in my throat. “Do you want to go, Snow?”

Snow scratches his neck. He points his thumb to the side. “I’ll be waiting over there, until we’ve both cooled down. Alright?”

I would never admit how much relief that brings me. “Alright. We’ll set off again in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Snow trots over to a good distance away. His brown, sweet smell still lingers in the air, but it fades just enough for me to rest properly. I sit back against the tree, drinking a good portion of my waterskin. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Snow doing the same. I try to not watch him. But it’s very, very hard.

———————————————

Nightfall hits before we reach the town. Snow can’t ride very fast, and I’m still more than a bit drained. So once again, I have to sit opposite the man who will most likely kill me soon.

He fidgets endlessly, picking at his nails and sleeve. It’s infuriating. He gnaws on the jerky like a crazed cat or something. I huff and shake my head. Snow looks up at me.

“What?” he says through a bite.

“Do you ever stop moving? We’ve been sitting here for over an hour and there hasn’t been a single moment of stillness from you.”

Snow snorts. “I don’t see how that affects you.”

“It’s annoying.”

He snorts again, but there’s a small smile now too. “Maybe this is the real reason hexes don’t interact. We're all arseholes.”

“That is hardly a hex thing, Snow. I’ve known humans and hexes alike that I can’t tolerate.”

“Am I one of them?

I hope my face doesn’t flush too hard. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He chuckles quietly and goes back to eating his jerky, with far less fidgeting this time thankfully. We sit in silence for a while. I keep sneaking looks at him, then tearing my gaze away every time. The firelight makes Snow’s tawny skin almost glow and his bronze hair sparkle gold. He’s a constellation of moles and freckles. He’s a gorgeous mess. Just looking at him, I can almost forget that we’re supposed to be enemies.

“What part of England are you from anyway?” Snow asks through a mouthful of dried out meat.

“Hampshire. Though if you asked the people here, they’d say I’m from Buckingham bloody Palace.”

Snow throws his head back laughing. It’s a ridiculous, wonderful sound. “Damn true! I’ve lived on the streets of London for the past ten years and an American asked me if I’m related to the bloody queen! They have no idea about accent differences. They think every Brit is royalty.”

I freeze. Snow’s laughs slowly subside. He must notice the utter panic in my eyes. “You lived on the streets of London for a decade? That long?”

He pulls in, curling his thin body in on itself. This Simon is a hex like me, a terrifying being filled with unimaginable power, yet right now, he looks so...small. “Well, not the whole time. It’s been on and off. I found some places to live for a bit but they never lasted. Thank God for magic. Or thank the Devil, if the humans are right about us.”

He chuckles nervously. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, trying to hide the way his laugh makes me face heat up even more. “I guess so. It’s taken care of me since-”

There’s a crack. It’s small, far off, almost indistinguishable from the regular sounds of the desert, but it’s there. My aunt always said I have the ears of a bat. I swing my head around.

“What is it?” Snow says.

“Hush! I think I heard something.”

Slowly, I stand up, crouched over with my fists clenched. My magic sizzles and sparks inside me, begging to be used. I see Snow stand too at the edge of my vision.

“Die hex scum!”

The man launches himself out of the darkness, jagged knife in hand. He knocks me flat down to the ground. All the breath is forced out of me as my back hits the sand.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

I push at him with both arms, thankfully keeping my pretty face out of his slashing range. He writhes and struggles like a rabid wolf. His dirty crazed smile, missing most of his teeth, looms over me. I recognise him.

“You,” I growl. “Did you really follow me all the way here from Slipfoot’s, you pig?!”

“Die!” He says that like it means absolutely anything, like I haven’t heard it a hundred times before.

Racist Man has no technique. He just screeches and flails with his knife. Aunt Fiona’s words come to my mind immediately. “Every self respecting hex needs to know how to defend himself, Basil.” She said just before pinning me to the ground in one move. I hook my leg around his and flip him onto his back. He gasps and lets out a rattling cough. I hover over him, knee on his chest, pinning his knife hand to the ground.

“You don’t deserve to live, you sand demon.” He spits at me, splashing against my cheek. I flick it off with ease.

“Such an original opinion.” I feel the fire blazing in my gut, threatening to consume myself and everything around me. “I should scorch off all your skin.”

“Course you would. All you hexes, just filthy murderers. No wonder y’all are fleeing to Rook’s heathen paradise. Your kind don’t belong around civilized folks.”

I growl again. First he despises my skin colour, then he thinks he knows anything about hexation. This bastard, so stupid and ignorant. We’re only monsters because we have to be. Because men like him come at us with knives and guns and nooses. There’s no holding the fire back. My hand heats up around his wrist. He screeches as his skin sizzles under my fingers. He drops the knife, but I don't stop. All my rage pushes out through my hand and onto his increasingly scorched skin.

“Get off me!”

I turn to see Simon, struggling against another man. His fingers spark and sputter uselessly as he pounds against the guy with a hand around his throat.

“Better save your man over there,” Racist Man hisses.

I give him one last good death stare. I see him shiver just slightly. At least he has some good sense. “Run fast and far. If you come near us again, so help me God I’ll melt through your entire brain.”

The look of terror in his eyes is enough of an answer. I jump off him and run towards Snow.

“Oi! Off him, now!” I roar.

The other man turns to look at me. He has the same crazed look as his friend. “Or what, you piece of devil shit?!”

“Or this.”

I turn to the fire. With only one hand outstretched, my magic wraps around it, and pushes my power into the very core. The flames shoot nine feet upwards, illuminating the vast dark in blinding light. I turn back to the terrified human. With one swing of my arm, the pillar slams into him. He’s sent flying in a shower of flames and skids on the ground, tossing up a cloud of dustin his wake. I start to march towards him. But Snow throws up his arm to stop me.

“Let me,” he growls.

The tone of his voice stops me in my tracks. Simon stomps towards him, his entire hand now covered in tiny sparks like fireworks. His assaulter sits up, panting heavily.

“You better run now,” Snow says.

He sneers. “Don’t tell me-”

“GO!”

Snow’s magic explodes like a fucking bomb. It’s a bolt of violent and powerful energy that hits the assailant square in the chest. He flies back even farther. I stumble from the sheer force of it. The magic disperses as quickly as it appeared. Snow is panting, bronze curls still staticy with stray sparks. The human scrambles and runs away into the darkness.

We’re left there, breathing hard in the darkness, the embers of the now dead fire our only light. Simon tries to pull out the crackling electricity still clinging to his hair. It curls around his fingers and won’t dissipate no matter how much he shakes his hand out. Finally, I find my voice again.

“That was...”

“Awful?” Snow mumbles. “Yeah, I know. Half the time my magic doesn’t work, the other half it explodes. Pretty fucking annoying.”

I turn to look at him properly, still trying to dust off the little sparks. “No, it was incredible. I’ve never seen magic that powerful, or beautiful.”

Oh fuck, why did I say that? I’m going to explode myself any second. Simon freezes, then turns to me. His lovely plain eyes are soft. Half of his mouth pulls up into a smile. My pulse is pounding in my ears. “N-No one’s ever called it beautiful before. And...no one’s tried to save me either.”

He starts to reach out to me with his spark kissed digits. I see the little bolts pulling towards me like I’m a magnet. My own magic flares to surface, reaching back towards him. Tiny flames from my fingers curl around the lightning. And a part of me, that horrible instinctual part, desperately wants to grab his hand and add his beautiful, terrifying energy to my own until his body is nothing but an empty husk.

I take a large step away, hands behind my back. Simon does the same. His eyes are wide with terror now. We both know how close we came to giving into temptation.

“We should go to bed,” I mutter.

Snow nods furiously. I speed walk to my side of the dead fire. We both lay down and pull the blankets to our reddening ears. The only sound for ages is the desert wind whistling through the cacti. Until Snow decides to speak up again, God help me.

“Baz?”

“What, Snow?” I snap. I can’t talk to him anymore, it’s too damn painful.

“Have...Have you ever actually fully drained anyone?”

Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. The question hits me in my heart. All that comes to mind is my aunt’s face as I saw her for the first time in weeks. Her happiness turned to utter horror in seconds. The memory still aches deep inside me. I can almost feel that horrible hunger when I first manifested. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “No. But I’ve come close. You?”

Snow pauses too. I can hear his shaky breathing clearly. “I had a hex friend back in London. Penelope. She was really good at magic, like you, so she tried to help me. We could only see each other for an hour a day for safety’s sake, and it worked for awhile. But one time, my magic got so out of control that I came this close to draining her.” He makes a loud sniffing noise. I hate imagining the tears I know are rolling down his face. “She told me it wasn’t my fault but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to hurt her. Next day I got on a boat to America. That was almost a year ago. I’ve been alone ever since, and it’s awful.”

“Is that why you want to go to Hex City?”

“Yeah. I mean, I just want to be able to have some choice, you know? Not make choices because of this power I never asked for. Don’t you feel like that?”

I think about my mother, who lost her life because of what we are. Or my six weeks of torture by that madman. Or how I had to run away from my family in fear of what I’d accidentally do to them.

“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes, “all the damn time.”

———————————————

We ride leisurely under the blistering sun. The desert has melted into more of a hot, grassy plain. Surprisingly, the climate and terrain actually gets less tortuous the further south you go in this awful state. I’ve only gone this far south once before. The Call somehow gets even stronger here. It threatens to fill every nook and cranny of my brain, but I beat it back. No disgraced Confederate chaplain or Aztec witch woman gets to decide what I do.

Snow is mumbling to himself about it being too hot. My head is whirring with a terrible, awful idea, but it won’t go away. My eyes keep drifting towards his beautiful face, and my mind keeps thinking of his beautiful magic. I got only a taste of the endless, consuming feeling of it, and it was exhilarating. If only he could control it.

I groan. “Snow, stop your horse.”

He looks at me confused, but does as I say. “What is it?”

“Get off. I’m going to help you with your magic.”

His eyes bug out of his skull. “What?! Why?”

“Because as incredible as your magic can be, I’d rather not have you explode when you sleep ten feet away from me.” 

It’s a convincing lie. Honestly, I want him to be able to protect himself. I don’t know exactly how long it will take to get to the south, or what could happen before then. Simon might’ve been killed if I wasn’t there. And I don’t know how long I will be with him.

I swing off my horse and Snow follows. We walk out into the empty plateau. He shuffles his feet nervously, chewing at his nails.

“Stay here,” I say.

I walk out and place my old empty flask on a cactus (it’s rusting anyway). Snow looks at it confused. I gesture to the metal bottle, then put my hands behind my back. “Hit that with a blast but avoid the cactus.

“O-Okay...” I watch his throat as he gulps. God, I want to touch that throat, I want to touch everywhere. But I’ll kill him if I do. It makes me hate my magic even more.

Simon raises his hand and takes aim. Small sparks dance between his fingers. One by one, they begin to increase. A small ball of lightning collects in his palm. Snow curls his fingers in, but they seem to be struggling. The ball starts to grow larger and Snow clenches harder. With little to no warning, a lightning bolt shoots out and hits the side of the flask. A blackened mark is left in its wake, but that’s nothing compared to the cactus. A massive chunk has been blown out of the top. It’s charred remains lay strewn on the gras.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Sorry, I was losing control, I had to let it go. Would’ve been much worse if I didn’t.”

“That’s alright, Snow. You technically did hit the flask.”

Snow scoffs, running a hand through his beautiful, sweaty hair. “Sure, I guess...”

I pluck the flask from the half destroyed desert fauna. Another horrible idea is coming to my mind, and I just might be mad enough to do it. “Maybe you need a greater motivator for staying in control.”

“Huh?”

I place the flask on my hand and hold my arm out to the side. “Hit the flask, but not me.”

Snow goes wide eyed again and inhales sharply like he’s been kicked. “A-Are you serious?! You just saw what I did to that cactus, right?”

“Well, you’re going to have to be accurate, unless you want me to end up like said cactus”

He pulls at his curls anxiously. The tiniest of parks fly off the ends. “I don’t know, Baz. I don’t want to hurt you...”

I try to ignore my rapidly beating heart. It’s been so annoying this past week, trying to get what it can’t have. I just flash a smirk at him. “Well, I believe that you won’t. Care to prove me right?”

A red colour spreads across his face. Part of me hopes that’s not just the sun affecting his pale, freckled complexion. “Alright, I’ll try.”

He rubs his hands together. His skin simmers with magic once again. It smells intoxicatingly good. Snow holds his right hand out, palm flat. The electricity builds on the surface. He keeps his hand clenched, but the energy threatens to spill over his fingers. I resist the urge to run in as fast as I can. I didn’t lie, I do trust him. But living on my own for almost three years has given me quite the self preservation instinct.

Sweat prickles Snow’s brow. He uses his opposite arm to keep the other one steady. “C’mon, Simon,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

The jagged white bolt shoots from his skin, far less formless than the last one. It zigs and zags, but in the end hits the flask straight on. The bottle explodes in a shower of jagged metal. I throw up a makeshift shield just in time. When I look at Snow, he’s flat on his ass, panting hard.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“‘Holy shit’ is right,” I respond with a chuckle.

He looks at me with a wide grin. It shines brighter than the midday sun. “I did it! That’s the most controlled my magic has ever been! Thank you, Baz.”

I nod. “You’re welcome, Snow. My aunt always said danger is a great motivator to learn. Especially when it comes to magic.”

Snow lays down on the grass, panting hard. It seems he’s not going to get up any time soon. “Your aunt, was she the one that taught you about magic?”

I kick at a piece of rusted shrapnel, my back to the resting Snow. “Yes, before it manifested, obviously. She wanted me to be prepared just in case. Her whole side of the family has a history of magic. It only appears every few generations or so. We both drew the short ends of the bloodline straw I guess.”

“You’re lucky with that, y’know. I never had anyone to teach me properly. Penny tried, but we never got far enough to make a difference. When I first got magic, this guy called the Mage offered to help. But it turned out he just wanted to drain me. I killed him by accident when he tried. I really didn’t mean to hurt hum, but he wouldn’t stop...”

I turn to him. There’s far too much pain in his eyes. “You had every right to defend yourself. Don’t feel bad.”

He lifts his head up. His smile is sort of sad, but it’s still gorgeous. “Thanks, Baz.”

I smile back as best I can. “You’re most welcome, Snow.” I place my hands in my pockets, desperately clenching my fists in hopes to keep my emotions at bay. “Unfortunately, I’m out of flasks. But we do have an oversupply of fauna. Want to try and not destroy a cactus this time?”

“Okay.” Snow nods, breathing steadily. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Snow takes his stance across from another unfortunate cactus. I watch him and give advice, but slowly have to back away as Snow’s sweet scent permeates the air. I try not to imagine being close to Snow, not having to fear him, him not having to fear me. Oh, what a life that could be.

———————————————

After another week of dodging the Red Weed, we finally get to somewhere. Covent Gardens, a town I suppose is named after the London borough. It’s sizable enough to have a slightly good inn; as in none of the panels are falling off and the sign is missing only a single letter. That’s practically a palace in these parts. I walk in with gusto, making the shutters rattle, Simon following behind me with his head.

Everyone looks at us. I’m not sure how obvious our hexation is, but I suppose we look enough like trouble. Plus my skin tone isn’t an asset here. Or anywhere, honestly. So I sneer and most turned away.

“They’re afraid of us,” Simon mumbles.

“As they should be,” I reply deadpan. I go straight to the barkeep, a bulky white man with truly horrific mutton chops. “I need two rooms.”

The man crosses his unnaturally large arms. “We don’t serve... people like you.”

I grip the bar lip, nails digging into the half rotted wood. “Like me how? Hexes or brown people?”

He sneers at me. “Neither.”

The fire blazes in my eyes. Wood blackens under my skin. “Now listen here, you stupid bastard, you better rent us a room or-”

“Now, now, Basilton,” a familiar voice says, “no need to be so rude. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“Hello, Nicodemus.”

Nico moves to stand next to me. His suit is cheap, the stitches fraying at the seams. He’s still got that sort of menacing look, but he looks tired too.

“Fancy seeing you here, Pitch. How’s your aunt?” He smiles, showing off his missing eye teeth. It makes me want to punch him in his stupid face.

“Why would you care, Petty? You’re the one who left her after everything she did for you.”

He hangs his head back with a groan. “Still defending your family’s honour, I see. Ain’t my fault I wanted to realise my full potential.”

“What, by getting your teeth pulled out so you could get magic? Even when my aunt warned you what a curse being a hex was? You’re still an arrogant idiot then.”

Nicodemus growls and grabs my wrist. His magic reaches out to clash with my own. It’s slick like oil, wrapping around my fire like a snake. But there’s a roughness to it. A sort of mangy, wild energy that I remember all too well from the hex duel with my aunt. Now, I can smell the acrid tang of it too. It leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat. I’m not surprised his magic is as disgusting as he is.

“Looks like you went through some shit too, Basilton,” he hisses. “You’ve got the same fire as dear old Fi. What, the guilt of letting your mum die finally get to you? Try to end it all? Too bad, you just became the monster she never wanted you to be instead.”

His power gnashes at mine, trying to rip it apart and eat it. But Nicodemus has made a fatal assumption; that he’s more powerful than me. I push back against him hard. The fire rushes through my every vein. I revel in the way Nico’s eyes go wide. My hand shoots up to his throat and I shove him down so hard his back bends against the wooden bar.

“You bastard,” I growl. “After all these years you still don’t know how to keep your bloody mouth shut.” I hold his throat even tighter. His eyes bug out of his skull. “Maybe I should shut it permanently.”

I open the gates within, and his magic begins to pour into me. It’s the world’s greatest adrenaline rush. I’m invincible, powerful, a bloody god. Nico gasps and tries to push me away. But I’m still stronger. He could never stop me.

“Baz!” Snow shouts. “Stop it!”

I turn to him with burning eyes. Everything I see is cloudy, like a smoke screen or rippling water. “Why?!”

“Because,” his voice is desperate, and maybe even caring, “we shouldn’t be the monsters they think we are. Just look at them, Baz!”

I still have enough sense to hear what he says. The patrons cower in fear, eyes wide with terror as they look at me. It’s not an expression anyone wants to be subjected to, or cause. And though I hate him, Nicodemus is right. My mother never wanted me to be this. Another terrible, murderous, evil hex.

With all my strength and good sense, I find the will to let Nicodemus’ neck go. His power rushes back into him with a sputtering gasp. I glare at him as I pull away, fingers still trailing with flames.

“Leave,” I say flatly. “Now.”

Nicodemus runs faster than I’ve ever seen a man run before. I take a few deep breaths. It takes a moment for my magic to balance out. It still yearns for Nicodemus’ power, but I beat it back into submission. I won’t let the hunger control me. Then I walk towards the now terrified barkeep.

“Rooms still not available?” He shakes his head frantically. “Good.” I slap down some American money. “Two rooms, please. Also throw in some whiskey. I need a drink after all that.”

The man picks two keys out of a box, then a bottle and glasses from the shelf. He shoves them both forward on the bar and takes two large steps back. I snatch them up with a tip of my ridiculous cowboy hat.

“Cheers, mate.”

Snow and I take a table in a corner. No one dares to look at us. I pour drinks for both of us and shove his glass to the other side of the table. We’re as far apart as we can be but it’s still risky. My power is still hungry. And Simon still smells delicious. But I won’t hurt him. I can’t.

“So,” Simon says, vowel drawn out, “who was that?”

I throw back the whiskey. It’s sour and burns my throat, but it's better than Slipfoot’s at least. “His name is Nicodemus Petty. He and my aunt Fiona were friends growing up. They bonded over their mutual family history of hexation. But when my aunt and his sister, Ebb, manifested magic as teenagers, Nico was jealous. Fiona and Ebb both tried to tell him that hex magic was far more of a curse than a blessing, but he never listened. He wanted the power. When I was about nine, he finally succeeded in activating his own latent magic.”

“By having two of his teeth ripped out...”

“Mhm. First thing he did was stumble all bloody mouthed to my aunt’s flat.” I clench the glass so hard I nearly break it. “The bastard attacked her by surprise, and tried to steal her magic. He almost killed her, but Fiona got a lucky shot and threw him out the window.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “As you can guess, I was there. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I can imagine.” He pulls in, picking at his nails nervously. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking...w-what was he talking about? With your mum?”

I pour myself another helpful shot of whiskey. I want to drown my brain in the stuff, honestly. I’ve never talked about my mum, it’s too painful, like ripping out a fingernail. But Snow has shown so much of himself to me. It seems unfair to hide. “My aunt and I aren’t the only hexes in our family.”

His eyes go wide as the revelation hits him, “Your mum is a hex too?”

I nod slowly, then drink the alcohol in one gulp. The warmth tingles in my veins and loosens my tongue. I stare at the glass, watching the light refract through it’s bends. “She was, but my father is human. They loved each other enough to not be scared, I guess. They never meant to have children. I was an accident, but my mother wanted me in spite of the risks. My father said she cried with happiness when she saw I was a boy. She thought if she kept me safe, I’d never become a full hex.” I flick a paint chip off the table with more force than necessary. “Then she died protecting me, doing what she promised.”

“How? Was it another hex?”

“Even worse, scared humans.” 

Snow’s face falls even more. He takes a long sip from his own drink. “So they tried to kill her?”

“They tried to kill all of us. Someone heard of my mother’s hexation, and they rallied a group together to fight our family. It wasn’t a real fight though. The cowards snuck in and tried to stab us. My mother killed almost all of them quickly” My fists clench so tight it hurts. “The last one nearly got me, but my mother stepped in front. He burned to ash just after he stabbed her through the throat.”

“Oh. Not even a hex could come back from that kind of wound...”

“I know,” I say between gritted teeth. “I know that very well, Snow.” I delicately place the glass down with a strained hand. “I...I tried to stop the bleeding but there was nothing I could do. I had no magic then. Even so, I doubt my powers could’ve helped.” A little flame pops up in my hand with barely a thought. Making fire is more natural than breathing for me, after all. I watch the scarlet snake dance between my fingers. “My family’s abilities have always been better at destruction.”

Simon takes another long sip, polishing off his drink. “I don’t know what my family’s like, but I hope they’re not like me. This power...it’s too much for anyone to have. I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”

“We all would, Snow. That’s what the humans don’t get. Most hexes are just as scared of themselves as humans are.” I pour my third drink. It’s been awhile since I’ve drank so much in one sitting, but if I’m going to get sozzled, tonight is a good time. “But that’s not up to us. We’re born like this. Nothing we can do but try to survive.”

“Believe me, I know that. All I’ve ever done is survive. In the orphanage, on the streets, here in America.” He lets out a small, sad laugh. “Hexation is how I ended up on the street, actually.” Snow looks directly down at the table. “When I was 11, I, uh, had a dream that I was exploding. When I woke up, the entire orphanage had been blown to pieces. Luckily no one was hurt, but the matron couldn’t very well keep a hex among other children.”

“So she thought sending you to roam among other humans was safer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think she cared as long as I was far away from her.”

I scoff, swinging the glass between two fingers. “Sounds about usual for humans. What made you manifest? A particularly bad paddling from the matron?”

Snow chews on his bottom lip. His fingers drum the wood slowly. “I, uh, actually didn’t have to suffer. I’m one of those rare cases of sudden manifestation, apparently. That’s what Penny called it anyway. She said it was rare but possible.”

My grip on the glass gets even tighter. A sudden jealous rage consumes my mind. So Snow just exploded one day at eleven. That’s awful, of course, I’ll never deny that. But all I can think of is the coffin. The endless night of being trapped in that box, waiting for a relief that wouldn’t come, until I finally broke and became the last thing I ever wanted to be. I went through absolute hell. Of course I assumed Snow had to, like all other male hexes. But he didn’t. He’s never had the acute kind of torture I did. It’s not fair.

“Excuse me,” I say more harshly than I mean to, “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

Snow’s pretty plain eyes go wide. “O-Oh...okay. Good night, then.”

“Night.” I snatch the bottle up and leave the key for his room. Then I stomp up the stairs with irrational anger still burning me up. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t get past it. Male hexes get their magic through suffering. It’s a well known fact. How could Snow be like me without the same kind of pain? How could he ever fully understand me the way I thought he could?

The second my room door is closed, I drink down the last of the whiskey bottle. I’ve tried to avoid alcohol over the past few years. It would be far too easy for me to drink away the pain, the memories, the horrible guilt. Eventually, I’d drown myself in a bottle. That’s not a way I want to go. But one night of indulgence will be fine.

I wobble towards my bed, shedding my outer layers as I go. I collapse face first onto the old mattress. Whiskey clouds my mind. And when I finally pass out, all I see is empty darkness. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than the nightmares.

———————————————

“...safe?”

“Out cold...”

The voices stay patchy as I slip in and out of consciousness. I try to force my eyes fully open, but the pounding in my head is too much. Indistinguishable figures move on the edges of my blurry vision. There’s little to no light. It must still be night, maybe only a couple hours since I passed out.

“Is..right thing?”

“Hex...Rook and Pargeter...dangerous...we...safe.”

“Fine.”

Something grabs both my wrists and my ankles. I try to struggle but I must still be too drunk. I can’t get my limbs to move save for some squirming. I try to summon my magic, but my mind can’t concentrate. It’s no use. Bloody hell, I’m trapped.

“Night night, hex,” a horrible voice says. Something soft is pressed hard against my face. I can’t take in air, I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe. It’s like the coffin. No, I can’t do this again. I try to thrash harder and scream but it’s still no use.

Oh Lord, I’m going to die here. I wonder if I’ll see my mother on the other side. I wonder if I even have a soul to go to the other side. And I wonder how if Snow is okay. Christ, my last conversation with him ended in anger. If I had known, I would’ve said everything I’ve wanted to say this past week. But the first thing would be ‘I’m sorry.’

I’m sorry, Snow, for everything I said and thought. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone.

“Hey! Get off him, you bastards!” That voice is familiar even in my half drunken state. Thank whatever gods are listening that he’s okay.

“It’s the other one!” one of my assailants shouts. “Wasn’t Garth supposed to take care of him?!”

“That damn idjit fucked up!”

I hear the telltale signs of punches and kicks thrown about. One of the hands on me pulls off. All this excitement has thankfully sobered me up some. I kick some stupid bastard right in the stomach.

“Fuck!” they wheeze. The other humans are wise and let go of my wrist. I’m on my feet in a second.

“Bloody humans,” I growl out, still slurring slightly. “You can’t even let me fucking sleep?!”

The burly barkeep scowls at me. My would be murder weapon is still in his hand. “Eat shit, you demon.”

I scowl right back at him. “Oh, you want a demon? I’ll give you a fucking demon, love.”

The fire blazes up in me, all shining black and scarlet, and I make little effort to contain it. I let the flames fly out and encase the man almost completely. He screeches as his skin bubbles and burns under my powers.

“Stop it!” a woman yells. She comes at me with a knife raised. A whip of fire forms in my hand instantly. With one crack, it wraps around her wrist. She screams in the exact same way and lets her weapon clatter on the floor. She goes to her knees, clutching her blackened, blistered skin.

“You bastard,” she cries. “How could you?!”

“How could I!?” Even more fire plays over my hands. “I could ask you the same thing, human.”

“We’re trying to protect ourselves, monster!”

In that moment, in her eyes, I see every human who’s hurt me. The people who mocked me, who killed my mother, who turned me into this. All sense leaves my mind in an instant. “I’m a monster only because of you!”

With one wave of my hand, she’s thrown against the wall hard enough to make it shake. I spin around to see a man trying to crack Snow’s skull open with a butcher’s cleaver. One well aimed blast sends him flying as well. Another casts two aside. They don’t move much afterwards, but I find myself caring little. Let them die like my mother did.

“Baz, stop it!” Snow shouts. I ignore him as I send the last assailant against the wall, listening to their screams as I burn their chest. “Baz!”

“Fuck off, Snow!” I roar. “I- Ack!”

Pain rips through my shoulder. I clutch it and my hand becomes wet with what I assume must be blood. I fall forward. My nose cracks against the floor. I scream in pain and flames roar out of me in a massive plume They hit everything, including my shooter and the walls of the room. I can feel the whole space burning around us.

“Baz!” Snow’s voice is beyond panicked. I hear his footsteps rush toward me. His hands hover over me but won’t touch. He can’t touch me.

“Get out, Simon,” I rasp , turning my head to the side to look at him. He’s covered in bruises and ash. Yet he’s still so beautiful. “Run before more of them come.”

“Shut up, arsehole! I haven’t turned my back on you yet, and I’m not going to start now!”

If the world weren’t literally on fire right now, I’d find that touching. I close my eyes. At least my dying image will be of him. “Don’t be an idiot, Snow.” Surprisingly, the bastard fucking laughs. My eyes snap open again. The bloody back of his hand is pressed against his mouth as he giggles. “What the fuck is funny about this?”

“You,” he laughs, “called me Simon before.”

My face heats up, and it’s not from the fire. “No I didn’t.”

“We’re fucking dying and you can’t admit you used my first name?”

“I’m dying. You’re being an idiot and not running away like you should!”

“You’re too stubborn to die, Baz, and we both know it.” He jumps to his feet. “Get up, we’re getting out of here.”

“Snow-”

“Or are you too much of a yellow belly to get up and try?”

Oh, this bastard. In only two weeks, he’s learned me too well. I scowl at his stupid pretty face as I push myself up on my good arm. At the same time, thundering footsteps can be heard from the stairwell.

“That route is out of the question,” I say. “Where are we to go, Snow?”

“This way.” He holds his hand and in a mere two seconds, the opposite wall is blown to pieces in a rain of spark. “Now let’s go!”

“We’re on the bloody second floor!”

Snow runs towards the gaping hole and throws himself out. I rush to the edge, blood pounding in my ear. No, Snow cannot die, I can’t let him die. But to my utter shock and awe, Snow is floating his way down to the ground. He stops and starts and still hits the ground in an uncoordinated roll, but he’s okay.

“Oh, Snow, you brilliant moron,” I whisper.

“They’re probably still in there!” someone shouts from the hallway. I take a few steps back, breathe deep, and run off the splintered edge just as the humans burst through the door.

Instead of sending my fire outwards like usual, I keep it within me. I will my body to rise high like flames from a candle. My legs move slowly like I’m running in the air. Fuck, this is actually working. Slowly, I let my flame flick and die down, lowering myself along with it. I reach the ground with my own thud but stay on my feet. Snow grins at me. In all this horror, that is the greatest thing to see.

“Let’s get the horses and get out of here, Snow.”

“Agreed, Pitch.”

We sprint to the stables and thankfully find our steeds unharmed. I count ourselves lucky that our attackers didn’t consider them demonic too. Mounting is difficult with my left arm fucked up, but let it never be said that a human bullet could stop Basilton Pitch. I hold the reins with one hand as I spur him into a dash.

The wind whistles in my ears. Snow and I run even faster than we did from the Red Weed. Our kind is always good at running. It’s our natural state.

———————————————

Snow and I ride until it’s nearly dawn. The sky turns purple then crimson with the rising sun in front of us. When I see orange, my horse finally starts to tire out. Snow’s does the same. We slow down then stop.

“Think we’re far enough away?” Snow asks, breath short and strained.

“Yeah,” I reply, sounding the same. “I think they would’ve caught us by now if they were still after us.”

“Good point, good point.” Snow leans forward, putting his forehead on his horse’s neck. “God, I’m fucking knackered. I barely slept.”

“Me too. We should both sleep.”

“What if someone comes after us?”

“Point. Sleep in shifts?”

Snow nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.” I slowly dismount my horse, but get my footing wrong and start to fall. I grab the reins with my left arm and practically scream in pain.

“Baz!” Snow rushes towards me, but stops when I raise my good arm.

“Don’t...” I pant, “don’t come any closer. I’m injured, Snow, and my self control is severely weakened. So unless you wish for death now after just barely escaping it, back away.”

“Oh, yeah, right...” Snow backs far away just as he should, but my heart still aches. “What are we going to do about your shoulder?”

“I can fix it, but I’m going to need your belt”

Snow’s brows shot upwards. “My belt? What for?”

“Just throw it to me, Snow, for Christ’s sake.”

Thank God he doesn’t ask another stupid question. He just unbuckles the belt and does what I ask. I try to not let my hands shake as I fold the belt in half. The last time I did this was three years ago, when I sat in a London alleyway after a drunkard broke my leg, a mere four days after fleeing my home for good.

“Baz, what are you-”

“Snow,” I say firmly, “I need you to do me a favour.”

“Okay...?”

I sit on the ground, belt held tightly in my hand. “I need you to stay right there no matter what. Don’t move, don’t try to help. The best way you can help is to stay fucking still.”

“What the fuck is-”

“Promise me you won’t move, Simon.” I look him right in his blue eyes, my mouth a thin, serious line. “Promise me.”

Snow gives me a once over, then thankfully nods. “Okay, I promise.”

“Good.” I put the belt between my teeth. When I check on Snow, he looks beyond panicked. “If it makes it easier,” I say clumsily between the leather, “you don’t have to watch.”

“Baz-”

I slap my right hand over my left shoulder, and it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. My magic scorches my body as it wraps around my injury. The buck shot is pulled through my muscles and skin, ripping and tearing as they go, and I can feel every bit of it. I can also feel as my tissue and bone stretches to knit back together piece by agonizing piece. It’s an indescribable kind of pain. It’s what I imagine hell must feel like. I scream, I can’t help it, but luckily the belt is muffling as well preventing me from biting off a chunk of my tongue. Snow gasps in horror but he doesn’t move. He keeps his promises. I knew he would. He’s a far better man than me.

The burning fades as the skin finally seals shut. I cautiously move my hand, shaking off the shrapnel and gooey viscera that trails between my fingers. God, it's a nasty scab, mangled and uneven and horrifically inflamed. I can only hope the scar won’t be too bad. The one on my calf has faded overtime.

“Are you-”

“Not yet,” I say, cutting off a frightened looking Simon. “This one won’t take as long though.”

I touch my nose, feeling for where the breaks are. I squeeze my eyes shut, and with a horribly painful crack, I move it mostly back into place. I let out a short yell, but just pant and seethe as the bone and cartilage knit back together. I try to wipe the bloody snot from my hand but it's no use. Disgusting, but better than a broken nose. I feel around to make sure things are okay. Well, the tip is a bit crooked, but I can live with that. Right now, I’m thankful to be alive at all.

“Okay,” I sigh, finally taking the teeth mark covered belt out of my mouth, “now I’m done.”

“What the fuck was that?” Snow’s voice is somewhere between fascination and absolute horror. In short, a proper reaction.

“Something my aunt taught me. Hexes are essentially manipulators of energy and matter. And what are bodies but living energy and matter? With practice, you can fix any part of yourself.”

“But isn’t it painful?”

“Was that not obvious?” I snap. But Snow’s genuinely worried face softens my demeanor. “Yes, it’s excruciating. Hence why I try not to use the technique as much as I can.” I massage my still aching shoulder. “Today it was unavoidable, unfortunately.”

Simon runs a nervous hand through his dirty hair. “Fuck...”

I cough out a small laugh. “Yes, that sums it up pretty well.”

He laughs too, just as shaky and sad. “Sums up the whole night.”

The two of us keep chuckling softly in the wee hours of the morning. The ascending sun hurts my tired eyes. Using so much magic has taken everything out of me. I let out a long, deep yawn.

“You sleep first,” Snow says. “I’ll keep watch.”

“No, no, I can-”

“Baz.” He sounds firm, but also tired, and maybe even a little fond. I’m probably imagining that last one though. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up in about eight hours.”

If I weren’t sleep deprived, magically drained, and recovering from grievous injuries, I would protest more. But Snow is damn lucky today. I simply sigh and stand up to get my cot from my saddlebags. I count our lucky stars we didn’t bring in too many of our supplies to the inn. Maybe God hasn’t completely abandoned us heathen monsters.

“I don’t have the energy to put up my shield,” I say, hoping my tone conveys enough.

“Okay,” Snow replies, “I’ll stay away, don’t worry. I keep my promises.”

My pulse flutters involuntarily. A smile creeps across my face no matter how hard I try to stop it. “I know you do, Simon.”

Snow gifts me one of his sunshine smiles. That’s the last thing I see before turning over and letting myself rest.

———————————————

Snow lets me sleep longer than eight hours. I’d be more mad if I wasn’t so exhausted. In return, I let him oversleep too. We’re both passed out by the time it’s dark again. Even hexes with all our inhumanity need to rest sometimes. Snow and I are lucky we get the chance this time.

In the morning, I reluctantly go to the next closest town. We did leave some of our things behind sadly, including most of our clothes. I’m damn well not going to keep roaming around the south of Texas in my bloody socks, and neither will Snow. I get us some new jackets, boots, and hats, ignoring the strange looks I get from the lily white shopkeeper. 

I grab us some more of that disgusting jerky too. If only good food could keep in these horrific conditions. When I reach the counter, the shopkeeper frowns at the things I lay out.

“You can pay for all this?” she asks. I scowl deeply. I’m too tired for this shit.

“Are people like me not allowed to have money here?” I snap.

“Ya can now, but in my experience, y’all darker folk are better at stealing my stock than paying.”

Bloody hell, I’m too tired for this racist shite. I slam two bills on the counter. “There. Hope I didn’t dirty these up too much for you.”

She glares at me hard. As she reaches for the money, I deliberately brush my finger on hers, and she yelps loudly. The edge of her index is red and inflamed. An undeniable burn mark, but far too small for anyone to believe it came from an evil, bloodthirsty hexslinger.

“Oh dear,” I say deadpan. “Your register must have gotten in the sun. Do be more careful.” I shovel the supplies in my bag as she looks at me wide eyed. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

I can feel her scared eyes on my back as I leave. I get on my horse and ride out fast. No reason to stay in this shithole any longer. And I need to get back to Snow, where I belong.

———————————————

“Everything okay in town?” Snow asks.

I toss the bundle of clothes at him, along with a bag of jerky. “No one attacked me, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t get made for a hex. But I did get some flack for my skin tone.”

Snow’s face falls a bit. There’s something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t, Snow. You’re in no place to apologize for some racist American bastards, it’s not your responsibility. Sorry from you means nothing.”

“But-”

“Would you accept an apology from me on behalf of all the rich men who have treated you like trash before?” Snow’s gaping mouth slowly closes. “Exactly. Now get those on. They’re slightly less dirty than our current garments.”

Snow nods and does what I say. I unbutton off my bloodstained shirt and wince as the tacky fabric peels off my skin. The scab has gotten a little better. That’s something I suppose. My eyes slowly move over to Snow without realising it. I steal a glimpse of his broad, bare back, golden like the rest of him. There are some jagged pink scars but they take nothing away how brightly he shines. I look away before I’m too tempted by what I can’t have.

“Much better,” Snow sighs as he slips on the new boots. “I’m surprised my feet haven’t been ripped to shreds yet.”

“Me too. I’m glad though, I didn’t want to do any more healing.”

“I don’t want you to either, fuck.” I hate how his concern makes me feel so good inside. “I’ll start setting up the fire. It’s going to get dark again soon.”

“By all means, Snow, do all the work. I won’t stop you.”

Snow snorts out a laugh, giving me a cheeky smile I can still see at this distance. Christ, I’m on fire, and for once it’s not from my magic. It’s so much better. I have to look away again before I do something ridiculous and deadly.

By the time the sun is down, Snow has made a wonderful small fire for the two of us. We both warm our hands from opposite sides. I don’t need to do it too much. My magic has almost fully replenished, for better or worse. And I’m so hungry that I actually enjoy the extremely salty bison jerky. Bloody hell, I’m turning into an American.

“Where are we going to go next?” Snow asks, mouth still full. “I’m guessing we should avoid any more towns.”

“Agreed. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not jump out of another building.”

“We certainly agree there. Christ, I was worried I was going to die.”

“Me too, Snow, me too.” I nervously fiddle with the string on my cloth bag. The words are coming out, and I can’t stop them. “I’m sorry, Snow.”

His brow adorably furrows. “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for the way I acted that night, before I went to bed. I was very rude to you and I deeply apologize.”

“Oh...okay. Thanks.” He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I was confused. Did I do something bad?”

“No, Snow,” I sigh, “you did nothing wrong. It was all me being stupid.”

“Okay...”

I sigh again. God, I can’t dance around it anymore. I have to tell him. After putting up with me for this long, he deserves to know.

“I was angry and...somewhat jealous of you.”

His eyes get very big. “Jealous? Of me?!”

“Yes, in a way. Because...you didn’t have to go through the same kind of suffering I did when I manifested. Which isn’t fair, because you lived on the streets while I grew up in a bloody mansion. It’s just not the same suffering I had, and I was angry I had to go through it when you didn't. Which is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry I pushed that on you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking...what happened?”

I stare at him for a long moment over the fire. He holds my gaze, eyes round with worry and care. It hurts me in the most exquisite way. “It’s not a pretty story, Snow.”

His mouth pulls into a sad, slight smile. “Weren’t you the one who said that all hexes live through hardship, and we have nothing to be ashamed of?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Using my words against me, a tactic of a true devious hex.”

He shrugs, still wearing that little smile. “What can I say? I can live up to our reputation sometimes.” Snow’s face falls again. “So what happened?”

With a deep sigh, rubbing my forehead, I start the horrid tale.

“My family always knew there was a chance I could be a hex,” I say. “But since my aunt couldn’t sense any magic on me pre manifestation, we assumed that I wasn’t too powerful, and manifestation could be avoided if we were careful. So I lived in the aforementioned secluded mansion all my life and I was never allowed to leave the grounds. All my time was spent reading, doing school work, or learning about hexation from my aunt, just in case. Everything in my life revolved around my mere potential to be a hex. I could never do or see anything. I felt like a prisoner. And when I was 18, I had enough.

“One evening, I snuck out of my room and went into the nearby town. I just wanted to see what was outside my home. But I was a naive sheltered kid. Of course I got lost on my way there and went into an area I never should have. Someone had knocked me out cold, and next thing I knew, I was in a cramped, dark box.”

“A box? What do you mean a box?”

I clench my fists tight until the shaking stops, then slowly let go. “It was a coffin, Snow. I had been trapped inside a coffin.”

I can almost feel the way Snow’s stomach must drop out at those words. I know, mine did the same when I realised where I was that night. “W-Why?!”

“It was hard to hear him through said coffin, but I got the main idea. He came from some old witch hunter family but had never caught an actual hex, until me. He’d heard the stories about my mother and had been secretly spying on me for months. When I escaped, he took his chance to kidnap me.”

“So he took you just to taunt you from outside a coffin?”

“I wish that was all he did,” I grumble. “He told me that the coffin was a test. There was a chance the hexation had skipped me over. If I was a hex, being stuck in the coffin would make me manifest, then he could kill me in good conscience. If I wasn’t and didn’t manifest, well, as he put it; ‘there are always casualties in the war for righteousness, boy.’”

Snow’s jaw drops to the grassy ground. “So even if you were human, he would’ve killed you anyway?”

“Mhm, mad bastard.” 

“How long did he keep you there before you escaped? A few days?”

I take long, steady breaths, beating back the old fear that creeps up my throat like bile. I can almost still smell that unique rotten scent from the coffin. I’ll never forget it. I never can.

“Snow,” I say slowly, “I was in that coffin for six weeks.”

And I thought he looked horrified before. Snow drops his jerky bag, hands shaking. I want to grab them, hold them still, comfort him in whatever way I can. The urge is almost stronger than the Call.

“S-Six weeks?! How are you still alive?”

“Thank the witch hunter,” I grumble. “He drilled very small air holes in the lid, and gave me enough food and water to keep me alive but starving. I think, hex or not, he wanted me to suffer because I was my mother’s son. A hex’s child was just as guilty of sin in his eyes.” I rub the bridge of my nose. It aches with the pain of my past. “At the time, I had no idea how long I was in there. It was just one endless night of torture. I begged and pleaded with the hunter to let me go, but he only laughed and called me pathetic hex scum. After six weeks, well, he finally got what he wanted.”

“You manifested.”

“Almost as violently as you did.” I trace the lines of my hand, the skin rough from my fire. I remember my mother’s hands being the same. “The details are blurry, but I remember enough. It started as just a tingling in my gut, but soon it became a burn. And then it spread as quickly as a forest fire.”

“Is it always fire with you?” The corner of Snow’s lip quirks up. The bit of teasing lilt in his voice makes me feel a bit lighter. I can't help but smile back a little.

“Usually, yes. It's always run very strong in my family.” I bounce a flame between my fingers. The movement is strangely calming to me. “I quickly learned I was no different. Before I knew it, I let out a massive ring of fire in every direction. It blew the coffin apart, of course, and turned my captor into a charcoal husk.”

Snow scoffs, a surprisingly vicious expression on his face. “Better than he deserved.”

“Agreed. I have no idea what happened to his body. I left almost immediately, though I wasn’t fully conscious. Six weeks in the coffin had deprived me of most of my mental faculties. Luckily, he kept me not far from home, and I could wander back on pure muscle memory. But going home turned out to be a terrible idea.” I grab the small fire and snuff it out in one go. But my fist stays clenched. “My aunt had been staying there while everyone searched for me. The second I walked through the front door, I could easily smell her. She was overjoyed to see me, until she smelled me too. And as I said, most of my mental faculties were gone.”

“So you attacked her on instinct.”

I chuckle sadly. “Quick study there, Snow. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I was just so bloody hungry all of sudden. I can’t even describe it.”

“You don't need to describe it to me, Baz.” He brings his knees under his chin. “I’ve felt hex hunger too. It’s...awful when you’re in the middle of it.”

“And when you’re not, you try to drown it out or distract yourself. But deep down, you know one day you’ll give up and listen. Then it will take over.”

Snow nods, looking at me in the eye. I’ve seen so much profound sadness in a person’s face. “And you’ll hurt someone, no matter how much you’ll regret it later.”

If I have a soul, it’s aching horribly. How could fate be so cruel as to give me Snow? So wonderfully brave and kind to a fault, and who actually understands what my life is like. The perfect man. And someday soon, he’s going to kill me. There’s no doubt I’ll be the one to die. I won’t kill him, not ever. I’d let him take everything from me before I’d kill him.

“Did you hurt your aunt?”

Thankfully, I can shake my head to that. “No, not at all. She was an experienced magic user, while I was a starving, half crazed newly minted hex. She took me down in seconds. When I woke up again, I was cleaned up and in my room. It took a second to regain my bearings, but I soon remembered what had happened...what I had become. There wasn’t any debate in my mind. Within an hour, I had packed my most practical clothes along with any small valuables I could pawn. Then I ran away and never looked back.”

“Which is how you ended up in America.”

“What better way to protect my family from me than by putting an ocean between us? At first, I stayed in an empty little corner of the American frontier. I just wanted to live out my lonely hex existence as long as possible. I didn’t expect the Call or this looming hex war.”

“No one did,” Simon sighs. “Hexes working together has never been possible before. Who could’ve imagined some American preacher would team up with an Aztec goddess to do just that?”

“Fair point. But now he’s made our existences much harder in a way. Look what those humans tried to do to us at the inn. They were even more scared because of Rook”

“Yeah...”

I groan, pushing my face into my hands, rubbing it up and down. “I never asked to be like this. I tried my hardest to avoid being like this. Then that choice was ripped away from me by some madman. Now I’m trapped between murderous humans or a bloodthirsty witch goddess. Why am I here? Why do I have to be here?!”

“Baz-”

“I don’t want this,” I choke out through my building sobs. “I want to see my family again. I just want to go home!”

I breathe hard and fast, holding back tears with all my strength. No, I refuse to cry. I swore to never cry again after the coffin, because I wasn't sure I could survive falling apart again. Yet here I am. I thought I had shed every tear I have there. I’m so pathetic.

“It’s okay,” Simon says. His voice is far louder than before. “Whatever you’re feeling is okay. It’s...it’s okay if you’re not.”

Slowly, cautiously, I lower my hands, blinking away the tears that had collected. I inhale sharply. Snow is less than two feet away from me. I can count the moles on his face, see the golden highlights in his bronze. But worse, his unbelievably delicious scent fills every cavity of my nose.

“You really shouldn’t sit so close, Snow,” I whisper. My eyes fall down and become completely fixed on Simon’s plush lips.

“I know,” he says under his breath, “but I don’t care.”

He touches my hand, and I feel his magic run through me. That explosive sensation pulses through my veins so hard it almost makes me gasp. The instinctual part of my brain goes fucking mad. It wants me to grab his throat and drain every drop of his magic, his essence, his very soul. My breathing gets shallow and laboured.

“Simon...” I say.

And then he kisses me.

It’s cautious and shy. His lips barely brush against mine, but I feel it everywhere else, especially in the way our powers rise to meet each other. The magic collides, but doesn’t clash. They meld and twist together at our points of contact, desperately needing to connect.

Snow opens his mouth, turning the kiss into one of pure heat and hunger. I gladly do the same. He grabs either side of my face and shoves his tongue down my throat. I grip his collar and push back against him. My entire body is filled with endless energy. I’m a star going supernova. And I want to explode with Simon. My nails scratch viciously across his neck. He clenches his fist in my hair, pressing our faces closer. I shudder as Simon bites hard on my bottom lip. I’m wrapped in cold heat, wrapped up in him. I feel so alive. It feels so right. But it’s wrong.

With all the strength I have, I shove Snow off me. We both fall back on the ground, breaking our closed circuit of feeding on each other simultaneously. Simon scrambles further away panting. I’m similarly out of breath. Both our lips trail white smoke, like they’ve been singed by ice. My magic readjusts after being sucked away and added to all at the same time. A bit of Snow’s explosive energy still sits in me, swirling around like a miniature star. We just stare at each other wide eyed for a long time.

“Shit,” Simon whispers.

I sigh heavily, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Well said.”

“We nearly killed each other.”

“Mages don’t meddle, Snow. We both know that.”

Simon groans, clutching his hair in his fists. “I know, I know. I almost killed Penny last time and I swore it would never happen again. But look at me now. Of course I fuck up.” I can see tears forming under his eyes. “What’s the point of being an all powerful hex if it means being alone forever?! I can blow up a building with my mind but I can’t even bloody kiss you! It’s not fair!”

I pick at my shirt sleeve with shaking fingers. “Maybe God is punishing us.”

“We didn’t ask to be like this, Baz!”

“That doesn’t change what we are, Simon! We’re freaks of nature, cannibalistic monsters!” I nearly rip through the fabric of my shirt. I'm so angry and so fucking tired. “Maybe we truly are devil spawn or something, like all the humans say. Maybe they’re right to be scared of all of us...”

I turn away from him, just staring at the fire. The sting of the smoke keeps me from sinking too low into my self loathing. Snow moves in my peripheral. We sit side by side. My skin prickles as he hovers his hand over mine. It takes every bit of my will to not try and drain him again.

“There’s somewhere we can go where we aren’t 'Devil spawn,'” he says.

I tense up. “Simon, that’s risky. It could all be a farce.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s just a farce, Baz! It’s still a chance. For you and me, for us.” He lightly brushes one of my fingers. I have to rip my hand away before I hurt him again. His pretty eyes are filled with pain. “See? Wouldn’t you like to stop doing that? Isn’t it worth the risk?”

I’ve been running for most of my life. I ran from my mother's legacy for as long as I could. I ran from my family when I feared my own hunger. And I could run now, from Simon and the fear of killing him. But I’d also be abandoning the chance for some sort of happy life. It may not be perfect, but it would be far more than my ancestors ever had before. Can I sacrifice that for fear?

“I’m tired, Snow,” I say weakly. “We should both get some rest.”

“But Baz-”

“Let me sleep on it, alright? Please?”

Snow takes in a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I want to kiss him so badly right now. Just grab his gorgeous, sunshine face and kiss him goodnight. Since I can’t, I smile as genuinely as I can at him. It’s not easy for me, but I mean it with him. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Snow stares at me for a long moment. But slowly, a smile creeps across his face too. The fondness threatens to melt me, “Goodnight, Baz.”

We keep our eyes locked for as long as we can. When I finally lay down, putting my crackling shield around me, the image of Snow’s wonderful face relaxes me into sleep.

———————————————

I bang my fists against the wood over and over, ignoring my already numerous splinters.

“Help!” I yell. “Someone help me! Please, get me out of here!”

All my pleas fall on deaf ears, as usual. No matter what I do, no matter how loud I scream. I’m stuck in this damned coffin. I scratch at it until my fingernails tear from their beds. Blood drips into my mouth, leaving an iron taste in the back of my scream sore throat.

“I’m not a fucking hex! I just want to go home!” I sob so hard I nearly choke on my own breath. “Just let me go home.”

My aching arms finally fall. I curl in on myself as much as I can within my confines. I close my eyes, but there’s little to no difference in the endless pitch black. Tears run hot down my face. They leave small trails in the dirt that’s accumulated over...however long I’ve been here. I don’t know anymore. Time is meaningless where there’s no sunrise or sunset. Life is meaningless in here.

“Baz?”

His voice is far away, but it still rings clear. My eyes slide open. “Simon?”

“Oh lord. Hang on, Baz! I'll get you out!”

I can only hear as Snow desperately tugs at the coffin lid. It should be impossible, the thing is nailed shut, but somehow Snow rips it open. The light is dim yet still hurts my eyes. I can't help but hiss at the pain.

“It’s okay, Baz,” he says in that unbelievably soft tone.

His hand reaches to me through the blinding light. Slowly, I reach back. And when I hold it, I know I’m supposed to be in pain, but I’m not. Instead, I’m just calm, happy, safe. Snow slowly pulls me out. His arms snake around my back, holding me up. He looks me over, taking in my decrepit, decayed state from ages in that damn box. And miraculously, he smiles. Even like this, he looks at me with such care.

“You’re alright now, Baz. I’m here.” He cups my face. “I’m here for you.”

Emotions clog up my throat and tears run down my cheek, but this time they’re for a good reason. I put my own shaking hand on his golden face. He’s so warm. “Yes, you are. And I’m here for you too, Simon.”

He’s still grinning as I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. But this time there’s no fear I’ll kill him. There’s just the utter joy of being with the one who understands me best, the one I want the most.

Oh, how I want this.

———————————————

I blink awake slowly. The morning sun is just rising over the horizon, turning the grassy landscape violet. I sit up and see the now familiar body on the other side of the fire. Snow sleeps in a knot, arms and legs pulled in. The furrow in his brow says he’s in the middle of a nightmare too. Though mine wasn’t one by the end. Not when he was there.

My mind is made up.

Once again, I’m packing my things lowly, waiting for Snow to wake. Luckily, he stirs while I’m only halfway through tying up the cot. He rubs the sleep from his eyes in such a terribly adorable way.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning,” he yawns. “Are we going now? Or...are you?”

My heart seizes, but only for a moment. He’s right to be concerned. The fact that we’ve travelled together for two weeks without killing each other is a miracle among hexes. After last night’s close call, a sensible man would leave and never return. I was once a sensible human man. But I’m a deranged, bloodthirsty hex now. Why not act like one?

“You should get up and start packing, Snow. If we’re going to make it to the Mexican border before nightfall, we’ll have to ride fast.”

His eyes go rounder than a full moon. “You mean...”

I pull the pack tie tight. “We’re going to Hex City.”

“What changed your mind?

I sigh heavily, then walk over to him. I stay at a safe distance of course but Snow’s magic pulls me to him, my body begging me to take it. Instead, I simply hold out my hand to him. Snow stares for a moment but does catch on. He offers his own to me. Once again, our magics reach out to each other, wisps of fire and lightning twining together. It sends a faint whisper of that explosive adrenaline through my veins. So incredible and so wrong.

I snap my hand away, fists clenched hard. “Because of that. If I were a more selfless person, I would simply leave, but unfortunately I’m not. Are you?” Snow looks me over. His eyes pierce me in a way no one’s ever has before. He slowly shakes his head. “Exactly. I may be scared of Rook and his goddess, but I’m more scared of hurting you. There’s only one place where I won't.”

“Hex City.” He chews on the corner of his bottom lip. “What if you’re right though, and Rook’s price is too high?” 

“Then at least we’ll pay it knowing we tried to have a real life, instead of running like we’ve always had to.” I stand straight with my head held high. No matter the fear, I’m sure of this. “I think we’ve both suffered long enough, Simon.”

The way Snow’s face relaxes means the world to me. I love seeing that, seeing what he looks like without the heavy burden of hexation on his shoulders. Maybe I’ll be able to see that more in Hex City.

“It’ll probably be nice there,” he says. “I mean, a city made for hexes by hexes is going to be weird, but I bet it’ll look amazing in it’s own way.”

I chuckle and nod. “Agreed. Buildings and roads made by magic will certainly be interesting.”

“Penny would probably want to study them.” He sighs, but there’s a lightness to. “Maybe Penny will come one day, and I could see her again.”

“Maybe. I would love to meet her. I might be able to see my aunt again one day, too. I could introduce you to her.”

He beams so bright at me I fear I’ll get sunburnt. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Me too, Snow. So let’s get going.”

We finish packing very quickly. Snow gets on his horse as clumsy as he usually does. I snort at the way his American cowboy hat nearly falls off his head. The death glare he gives me has little impact, what with the way he’s grinning. He hasn’t stopped grinning almost since he woke up. I can’t blame him. I have trouble controlling my smile either.

“Ready?” he asks. As if he even has to. I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it.

“Ready,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Snow and I both send our horses into gallops. We soar across the grassy plain, the Texas sun illuminating our way. The impending hex war still looms over us. But I will fight until my last breath to keep any happiness Simon and I can find.

I can almost see our future. Soon, we’ll reach the terrifying and wonderful Hex City. Rook will ask for his price, and we’ll pay, because it’ll mean a freedom we've never known before. We’ll be able to hold hands, kiss whenever we want, sleep in the same bed, simply be around each other with no fear of our hexacious hunger. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of even a few months ago.

For once, I’m going to run towards something good, instead of away from the darkness inside me. I cannot wait.

———————————————

AN: And that's all folks! I hope people enjoyed that, even if y'all have never read Hexslinger. If you wanna read the books, I highly recommend them, tho be warned they require trigger warnings for all the stuff here and more. Almost anything that usually needs a trigger warning is in those books. I'm okay with reading it, but I also completely understand others not liking that shit.

In the positives, it's an extremely interesting and complex series dealing with survival, discrimination, identity, the pain that can come with love, and the unlikely bonds formed between people. The world building is amazing and the magic system is super cool. What I love the most are the characters, who are all very interesting and complex. No one is 100% good or evil, they're just people trying to find ways to achieve their goals or simply live. What actions they take are up for moral debate, but a lot of the time they're at least understandable. There's a lot of period typical bigotry, and it's much more vicious than what I wrote here, but what I love is that there a lot of diverse characters who say "fuck that" and fight back against the shit they get. You've got queer, Indigenous, black, latinx, Chinese, and Jewish main characters in a wild west story who are all well rounded and interesting. That's pretty awesome imo.

Okay enough gushing about Hexslinger lol. Hope this story was good. No guarantee when my next fic will be out. Work and school are killer. Until then, see you later!

[bow-woahh]

If you’re still doing the game, chapter 6 from the grocery store onward?

Send me your favorite scene/chapter from one of my works and I’ll post a DVD commentary on it.

ask and you shall receive!

Little bit of background info, this chapter is obviously part one of two, chapter six being it's better if I calm down, and chapter 7 being the rest of the line: it's better if I lash out. If you listened to the song full stop, you might have already known that lmao

I felt like these two chapters worked well being split into two parts (I mean imagine how long it would have been if it wasn't ... like no thank you) because of the overarching themes across them and most importantly, the plot line with her mom and the readers not knowing what's putting her on edge in chapter 6. It was so much fun to play around with and hint that there was clearly something bothering her. I think in my outline, before I found the official title this chapter was called "calm before the storm" because that truly is what it is, there's a lot of nice, fun moments, but it's clear there is something bad on the way.

Anyway, tangent over, commentary time!

They caught a bus to get to the closest grocery store, which was still a twenty minute journey away, so Catra ignored Diego for most of the ride, listening to music and texting Adora.

When I was originally outlining chapters and everything, the grocery scene wasn't planned in to this chapter (I just love giving myself more to do). I have a section in my outline document where it's kinda just a thought dump of things I want to happen possibly at some point, because I think it'd be cool or cute or whatever. This was one of those instances, and because this chapter felt a bit bare bones at first (the final product was not in the slightest) I added this in as it felt like a great way to introduce Adora and Diego and since Catra and Adora are still fairly early in their relationship here, it just worked so well, because they truly didn't expect to see each other.

“Hey, hi! I knew you said you were going shopping, but I didn’t think—well I guess it does make sense since you live in Alwyn but—”

Okay, time for context no one asked for! Bright Moon is the city they are in (obviously) and Frighton (the Fright Zone) is the neighbouring city. Bright Moon is kinda split into lower city, upper city and mid/center city (guess which kinda classes live where). Alwyn and Elberon (where Catra and Adora live respectively) are more lower city, so they are typically where poorer people live, though there are some nice places there I'm sure. Just not many.

Adora said, “Loser? Nah, Catra’s actually super cool, trust me.” She looked at Adora, properly, for the first time in a few minutes, and found her staring back at her with a fond smile.

Adora's piss poor attempt at flirting. Jk, but I do think this moment is v cute and I just love how Adora defended Catra, even though it's just her younger cousin being stupid. We love to see it.

Once again Diego beat her to it, opening the door and saying, “Sure!” before jumping out and slamming it shut.

[Context for this line: Adora asked if they needed help taking the bags out of her truck.] Honestly, Diego's really cute here. He really admires Adora and looks up to her so he's taking every possible opportunity to talk to her, and be around her.

“You know you could've left, like, ages ago, right Grayskull?"

“Yeah well,” Adora did that little shrug she always did. “I didn't mind.”

Narrowing her eyes for a moment, Catra said slowly, “Alright. Well, you can go now. And I should probably head in.”

She turned to go inside, when Adora grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

Ahhh I love this whole section of dialogue so I had to talk about it. These two are just... useless. What I love about them, and writing them in specifically this, is the constant push and pull with them, how they can never just explicitly say whar they want, either in fear they'll be judged and rejected or because they don't even fully understand what they want to begin with. With Catra and Adora, as much as one can say something like "You should go" the other will always hesitate to, will always have something at the tip of their tongue that they're not quite saying, or like here, will literally tell them to stay, using words or otherwise. They want each other but aren't quite ready to admit it yet. And I just think that's beautiful.

Also the grabbing of the wrist and the "Wait"? Pretty sure that was an accidental reference to the "stay" scene in Taking Control but it's so ingrained into my brain I'm sure it was subconscious.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

This line is just so... teenage romance vibes and I love it

Even though they had been talking nonstop for days now, and had seen each other just the other day, there was a palpable tension in the air, one that Catra wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with.

The said tension was definitely more on Adora's end than Catra's, because obviously, Catra is still hiding things (or more accurately, just not sharing them) and although Adora wants to pretend to be fine with it, the closer she gets, the more she wants to know what the truth is, she doesn't want to listen to the lies and rumours anymore.

Adora studied her face for a moment, before saying carefully, “Well, I, uh, have a ton of old gear I’ve been meaning to get rid of, but maybe you could ask him if he wants it? It’d be a good start.”

Catra hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I'm sure he'd like that. I'll, uh, see what he says and get back to you.”

“Great!” Adora beamed.

Another little moment I love because Adora is just so considerate here and understands that Catra doesn't want to delve into things like money issues. She also gets Catra isn't one to accept handouts but the way she puts it isn't ‘let me help you out’ but more ‘you'd be doing me a favour’. Adora understands how she feels. She gets it.

“Why did he think you were texting your ‘boyfriend’ by the way?” Adora asked, and Catra felt her heart drop to her stomach. She hadn’t thought Adora had been paying attention to what Diego said (arguably nobody should ever pay attention to anything he says, ever) but of course she had, because once again, Catra had underestimated Adora’s observational skills.

“Because he's a stupid kid who doesn't know what he's talking about.”

Honestly Diego isn't that far from the truth he just needs to turn that 'boy' in boyfriend to girl.

Also the fact Adora is asking about this.... interesting. Catra's answer.....very defensive and also interesting. Once again they're so many unspoken words and subtext layered in all of this. It's like a tiered cake.

“That? Oh, nah. I don't—it's not really any of her business, y'know?” Catra replied, staring just past Adora’s shoulder.

Catra is replying to Adora asking whether or not Serenia knows she's a lesbian and, well, obviously what she said wasn't true. Well it was, technically, but she's ommiting the real reason. As I've already at least slightly portrayed, Catra has a complicated relationship with her sexuality, and I don't want to spoil it but that will definitely be explored more in the future, and Serenia definitely plays a part in it, being her guardian after all.

“I guess it was always kind of obvious. I never looked at guys the same way I look at girls—my first crush was some girl in like elementary, although I didn't realise at the time, and they just continued from there. I thought all girls had crushes on other girls at some point, that wishing I was a guy so I could be with them was what everyone did. When I realised they didn't, that it was weird, I spent all my time convincing myself I just wanted to be my celebrity crush and not be with them, until I actually kissed a girl for the first time. Then I couldn't exactly ignore it. I still tried to though. Especially when—well yeah, I tried to deny it for a while. But then, I guess I got tired. Of lying to myself.”

This whole paragraph is just... yes. No one has ever asked Catra how she knew, but more importantly, Catra has never wanted to answer this question, and if it were anyone else asking, she would have definitely shut it down, or answered with something short and simple. It's because it's Adora, and because she's growing more comfortable with her, to the point where she doesn't mind, even wants to share these types of details about herself. That vulnerability is even more important in chapter 7, so this was a stepping stone of sorts for her.

“So, uh, how about you? Not that I’m saying that you’re—but since you asked…” She cursed at herself internally when Adora's expression morphed into one of surprise, eyes slightly widening. 

“Oh, me? I, um—I don't really know. Is that weird? I just haven't ever really thought too much about it. I guess my main priorities are school, lacrosse, and work.”

God, it's in moments like these where I wish I wrote from Adora's perspective as well. Because there's a lot to unpack here. She's not lying when she says this, I do think this is partially how she feels. But, some could argue it's so obvious how much she likes Catra, and she's definitely admired some women before. So. I'll leave it at that because otherwise I'll say too much.

Quickly though, back to the what I said about writing in Adora's perspective... saying this here and here only because I don't know if it'll happen but I did have an idea to make a sequel of sorts, from her perspective. But, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

The smooth stream had been interrupted once Adora had asked if Catra's had any plans next week, with Halloween coming up. The relaxed, open demeanor that Adora had seen for the past few hours had almost instantly closed up again, and she could hardly focus on what Adora was saying anymore.

Now that Chapter 7 is out, why she reacted this way obviously makes a lot of sense, but to add more of a commentary to it, as we saw throughout this chapter she was trying her best to ignore her emotions about her mom's death anniversary because for once things were going well and therefore she had other things to focus on. Adora mentioning Halloween forced Catra to acknowledge it, along with the memories that come with her mothers death.

“Promise you won't ditch me?”

“I, Adora Grayskull, promise not to ditch you,” she said, hand on heart.

We love a good promise cameo.

“Did you really get kicked out? Of Horde High?”

Catra should have been expecting this to come up once again. It was bound to. With all the rumours. Especially when Sparkles seemed to be a fan with how she brought it up on Sunday.

I've already talked a bit about the rumours and how they arose in my chap 1 commentary, but really I wanted to talk about Glimmer here, since her scene was before the grocery scene and I have a lot to say about this one. Initially when I wrote it, the scene was a fairly quick altercation that kinda lacked a real punch, but after spending a little more time on it after my beta pointed some things out...it hit hard. I know there is a fuck Glimmer train at the moment because, yeah, Glimmer is pretty mean in that scene. And other scenes. I don't know why I love writing Glimmer as her S4 self so much, but it's fun to play around with okay? I like how she can take on an almost antagonistic role at times.

Glimmer thinks what she is doing is to the benefit of her own friend, by pointing out all of Catra's faults and the fact that she's from the Horde, but I also think there's a little jealousy there. No Glimmer doesn't like Adora, but she is quite a possessive friend, so I can't imagine she likes the fact Adora is spending so much time with someone she doesn't know, and to add to it, she's got the worst reputation in the school. So.

Catra thought back to the moment, and remembered what had provoked it, all the way back in eighth grade. “Yeah. I'd say they did.”

Exclusive for Tumblr gang only, but yes they did on fact deserve it because they called Catra the d-slur. This was during a time where she was really struggling with her sexuality so at the time, this cut deep.

As Catra lay in bed that night, she found her mind wandering back to Adora's handshake, how they had held on for just a little too long, mismatched eyes staring into blue ones. How such a casual touch had brought back that burning sensation, that need to be closer.

Ah...the handshake. There is literally no other reason for this other than the fact they are gay. This chapter along with the next are especially important for their development physically—they get a lot more comfortable touching each other in passing but at the same time they still have to find a reason to touch each other (hence the handshake). Either way, it helps break another barrier in their relationship, and this is even moreso the case in chapter 7. I don't know if you noticed, but that chapter is full of small touches and more, but they couldn't have gotten there if it wasn't for the little steps along the way.

Boy that was a long one! I hope you guys enjoyed this, I know I said chap 8 would be out soon but schools really kicking my ass, trying to find a balance is hard. Nevertheless, it will be out asap, I appreciate your patience! (:

[ephemelody]

everyone knows my love is you

commission for @/interstelklance on twitter! the prompt was: no one believes keith & lance are dating until their engagement, gasp!

“Pidge, look.” Lance wiggles into a seating position on Keith’s lap, settling in as Keith loops his arms around his waist. “You’ve spent the whole morning with us at our apartment today, watching us do the laundry together and feed each other waffles and cuddle on this couch. I’m wearing Keith’s shirt right now, too, if you haven’t noticed. Do you really think I would do all that if I wasn’t head over heels in love with him?”

“I could kiss him if that helps.”

Keith sounds entirely too hopeful voicing that suggestion. Lance shoots him an admonishing — yet disgustingly giddy — look.

“Holy quiznak,” is all Pidge can push out in the end, realization crashing into her like two terabytes of code. “You guys are engaged.”

They tell Pidge first, because for all her brains and computer smarts, she couldn’t figure out the most obvious answer.

“Hey Lance, when did your photoshop skills get so good?” Pidge asks, staring at a picture of Lance holding his left hand up to the camera, Keith hugging him from behind. They’re on one of the beaches of Cuba, the setting sun casting a golden-pink glow behind their backs, and it’s honestly the perfect picture, with their smiles so broad and bright. “You almost got me!”

“Got what?”

Lance is sprawled on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, his stomach cushioned over Keith’s thighs. He’s working on a stack of Garrison reports, feet kicking up and down as he types away at his tablet. Keith, sitting comfortably beneath his weight, is quietly reading a book.

“This, your Instastory.” Pidge waves her phone in the air. Lance tilts his head sideways to take a look. “That ring almost looks real.”

“Oh, you mean this?”

Lance flicks out his wrist, and resting on his finger is the exact same ring in the picture, red jewel bright as a flame against the band of gold.

Pidge gapes. Lance gloats.  

For several long moments, no one says a word.

Then, Pidge hollers — “Since when?!” Her brain furiously processes through the last several months, wondering how a literal engagement sprung out of nowhere. “When did you guys even start dating?!”

“Since June?” Now Lance looks affronted. “Pidget, I literally announced it everywhere, even on Facebook!”

“But— that? Was a joke?” Pidge feels like a wire in her brain has fried up, gone kaput. Only snatches of memories fizz weakly in the wreckage now: Lance and Keith holding hands, kissing each other good morning at breakfast, hugging each other intimately beneath the soft glow of street lamps. Those had all been for show, as she and the other paladins had collectively believed. “This whole time everyone thought you guys were just messing around! Both of you told us you were better off as friends last year when we tried to set you two up!”

“That was before we got together,” Lance clarifies matter-of-factly. “We’re very much happy boyfriends, partners, future hubby and husband now, thank you very much! I can’t believe that hasn’t been obvious from the start.”

Pidge continues gawping like a fish. Lance flops onto his back, giggling when Keith runs a hand across his stomach.

“Pidge, look.” He wiggles into a seating position on Keith’s lap, settling in as Keith loops his arms around his waist. “You’ve spent the whole morning with us at our apartment today, watching us do the laundry together and feed each other waffles and cuddle on this couch. I’m wearing Keith’s shirt right now, too, if you haven’t noticed. Do you really think I would do all that if I wasn’t head over heels in love with him?” 

“I could kiss him if that helps.”

Keith sounds entirely too hopeful voicing that suggestion. Lance shoots him an admonishing — yet disgustingly giddy — look.

“Holy quiznak,” is all Pidge can push out in the end, realization crashing into her like two terabytes of code. “You guys are engaged.”

Everything made so much more sense now. The way Keith and Lance would always disappear together in the middle of Garrison meetings. The nonstop flirting, touching, gag-inducing nickname calling—

They were meant for each other, in all the best ways.

“Awww, is the little pigeon crying for us?”

Lance makes his way around the coffee table to sit down next to her, bundling her into his arms. Pidge doesn’t dignify him with an answer, but she hugs him fiercely back, wrapping her other arm around Keith when he joins them, a gentle palm patting her head.

These two became her closest friends in the lonely infinity of space; her most trusted comrades on the battlefield, and now the brothers she loves so dearly as they grow older and wiser together. 

She couldn’t be more happy for them.  

❦

Hunk comes next, with his culinary and engineering skills in dire need for the planning of the wedding. Lance and Keith visit him during his restaurant off-hours, walking through the backdoor into a tidy, well-lit kitchen. They find Hunk elbows deep in a line of bakery orders.

“Hunk, will you make us a cake for our wedding?”

“Uh-huh, sure Lance,” Hunk agrees absentmindedly. His brows are deeply furrowed, jaw clenched in perfect concentration as he shapes the loveliest blossom of icing with a nozzle tip. “Who’s wedding?”

“Mine and Keith’s.”

A row of buttercream piping veers jaggedly to the side, streaking the otherwise faultless cake. Hunk lifts his head slowly and blinks at them, as if emerging from a dream.

“You… and Keith?”

Lance nods excitedly as Keith pilfers some of the icing. “Yeah! We were thinking maybe chocolate and peanut brittle, or red velvet in case anyone has allergies. Oh, and a mini rollercoaster going in and out of the cake, with the Lions as the rides!”

“But—” Hunk struggles for words, utterly flummoxed by this sudden turn of events. “You guys aren’t even dating?”

At that, Lance visibly deflates. Hunk grasps for an apology, struck by the distraught on his friend’s face, but the younger man quickly smooths his expression over. “Hunk, I’ve been calling Keith my boyfriend for over a year now.”

“You call me your baby daddy,” Hunk rejoins.  

Keith chokes. Lance scrambles. “Food baby daddy. And there’s a difference Hunk! Have I ever kissed you?”

“Well— no, but—”

“Fondled your pecs?”

“Uhhh—”

“Sucked your dick—?”

“Okay no! I get it now, I get it!”

Lance huffs, satisfied with Hunk’s admission. Meanwhile, Hunk is reshaping the last one and a half years of his life, based on the belief that this entire time, his two best friends had only been messing around with each other, acting overly affectionate just for jokes. Somehow, he and all the other paladins had convinced themselves of that, after watching these two dance around each other for years and years, before announcing that they were perfectly fine staying friends.

But maybe things had changed after that.

Understanding dawns on him, like a giant vat of batter pouring over his head. On instinct, Hunk grabs the nearest loaf of brioche and cuts two slices from it, slapping them over his ears.

“I,” he says gravely, “am an idiot sandwich.”

A beat of perfect silence. 

And then Keith doubles over with laughter, clutching his stomach and the edge of the counter, nearly kneeling on the flour-dusted tiles. Meanwhile, Lance gently takes away the slices of bread from Hunk’s hands, eyes twinkling with fondness and mirth.

“You,” he says very seriously, “are the most delicious sandwich to ever exist. And I know you’re gonna make the best cake Keith and I could ever dream of for the wedding.”

An hour later, after Lance and Keith had left, Romelle walks in, inspecting the state of the kitchen with eyes round as marbles.

“Hunk, what happened?” she asks, staring baffled at the war zone of icing, the lopsided, teetering cake, and the random loaf of brioche sitting on top.

“Started making it, had a break down.” Hunk dusts his hands off on his apron, his shock gradually morphing to a shimmering excitement and happiness for his newly engaged friends. “Bon appétit.”

❦

In retrospect, announcing the news at dinner to the family probably wasn’t the best idea. Shiro’s reaction to it certainly wasn’t expected.

“Don’t you think you’re taking this joke a little too far?” the retired space veteran asks, ladling a plate of bolognese as Keith and Lance regard him with matching bewildered expressions. Next to his side, Adam shifts in his seat, taking a long sip of wine without coming up for air.

Keith manages to answer first. “Joke?” Against the table, his hand wraps tight around Lance’s, the gold bands on their ring fingers twinkling beneath the light, one red star to link the blue. “We’re engaged, Shiro. As my mentor and my brother, I’m asking you to be my best man at the wedding.”

Shiro sets the plate of food down and falters on filling up the next, a waver in the train of his thoughts. True — it wouldn’t be like Keith to joke about something like that. He had been Shiro’s best man at his own wedding after all, and Shiro had promised Keith to return the gesture once it was the younger man’s time. But everyone knows he and Lance haven’t been dating these past few years. Shiro knows he would’ve realized it.

Or…

Had he?

“Shiro, we’ve been dating for over year now,” Lance says, cheerful and tinged with a breath of laughter. “Man, and I thought Keith was the dense one in the family. When we got together I literally had to take off all my clothes before he—”

“Lance,” comes the fond, exasperated rasp of Keith’s voice, just as Adam chokes on his second glass of wine.

“We tried setting you guys up last year, though,” Shiro says, sitting down as his mind swirls with confusion. “You guys came home from the date and said that you’d rather remain friends.”

A wry smile crosses Keith’s lips. “I was scared,” he admits, in a moment of vulnerability, “of ruining what I already had with Lance. Loving him in whatever way I could was better than not being able to love him at all.”

Lance’s heart squeezes at the open honesty of his words. He lifts the back of Keith’s hand to press a kiss there, pouring the breadth of his emotions into that light, warm touch. Shiro stares at them, unable to believe that he hadn’t seen it before, the utter love and devotion between them.

“But— but I’m your brother.” How could he not have realized? “I would’ve—”

“There, there, Takashi,” Adam soothes, setting down his wine glass.

“Did you know?”

Adam doesn’t even hesitate. “I did,” he says, and Shiro lets out an anguished, betrayed gasp, burying his head into his arm. “It was obvious, dear.” He gently runs his fingers through the nape of Shiro’s hair, smiling fondly at his husband before turning his gaze to the couple across the table.

“Congratulations, Keith, Lance. Takashi and I will look forward to your wedding.”

❦

Later that night, Lance is oddly quiet as they go to bed.

They had just gotten off the phone with Allura, who was currently staying in Altea with Coran. She had taken the news of their engagement with grace and excitement, though she too had been surprised at first as well.

Keith turns around to take Lance’s hand before shutting off the light.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asks, noting the spider-line crease between Lance’s brows and his soft, pursed frown. His blue eyes seem to glisten like a lake beneath sunset, rippling with a sheen of tears.

“Do you know why none of them realized we were dating this whole time? All their combined brain cells, and yet no one connected the dots.” Lance pauses, the frown folding deeper. “Is it because I don’t show my love for you enough?”

Keith’s heart eases from its worry, settling into a familiar, gentle affection. He pulls Lance into his arms, dropping a kiss to the corner of the younger man’s brow.

“Pretty sure all of them combined equals one braincell,” he says, smiling when he hears Lance’s aborted laugh, breath feathering hot across his collarbone. Lance nuzzles into him, nosing the curve of his throat. “We literally made out in front of them for ten minutes during the New Year’s Eve party, remember?”

A leg is thrown over his hip, and Lance tilts his head back just a little to gaze up at him, eyes now twinkling with a brighter, easier light. “I think they were all too drunk to pay any attention to us ravishing each other.”

Keith cocks a brow. “We fucked in the shower when they were all having breakfast the next morning, and you weren’t exactly quiet.” He thinks of the memory fondly, while Lance’s face colors crimson with heat.

“Allura’s walls are soundproof, just so you know. And I can’t believe you kiss me with that filthy mouth, yeesh.”

“You’re marrying this mouth,” Keith counters childishly, boldly, because it’s the truth, and it fills with him joy like none other. In the low light of their bedroom, Lance’s engagement ring shines next to his.

“I know,” Lance whispers, soft and adoring. “I love this mouth,” he presses a finger to Keith’s lips, “I love you, more than anything in the universe.”

And they would have the rest of their lives, sharing that love, together. 

[benhardyorbust]

Just a Little Fun Pt 3

A/N: Here is the last part of this series! I hope you all like it! It’s a little shorter than the other two parts, but I thought it wrapped things up nicely. 

995 words 

part one part two

I heard the horrible sound of my iPhone alarm going off and rolled over to grab my phone and stop it. My head hurts and I feel kinda gross, and I am also not in my own bed. 

“fuck,” I whispered. I rolled back over to see if I did what I think I did last night. 

Yep. I’m in bed with Ben. 

“Good morning love,” he says as he opens his eyes. Even when he just woke up he looks like a Greek god. 

“Did we...?”

“We did... actually a few times.”

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t like dream that or something.”

“Is that... okay with you?”

“Yes! I definitely, definitely wanted to,” I say, stroking his arm. 

“Good, because I definitely wanted to too,” he says pulling me closer to him. “Was I really that good that you thought it was a dream?”

“Don’t get too cocky now,” I say back laughing and snuggling into his chest. 

“It’s hard not to get cocky when you..”

“I know where this is going and I’m begging you to stop before you get there,” I say to him laughing. He laughs and hugs me in a little closer. I could stay here all day, in his arms. I feel so comfortable and at home. 

I look up at him and kiss his cheek. He smilies and kisses my forehead. I probably shouldn’t feel this way about a guy who just broke up with his long term girlfriend, but I just can’t help it. I feel so good when I am with him. 

“Do you have to be on set today?”

“I’m a PA, I have to be on set every day.” 

“I don’t have any scenes today so I don’t have to be there. You should call in sick so we can stay like this all day.” 

“As tempting as that is, I don’t really think that’s an option.”

“Well, how long do we have?”

“I have about an hour before I need to leave.”

“Well that is plenty of time for me to impress you with my breakfast making skills.”

“Wow you really are the full package, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think so,” he says back to me, winking. 

He rolls out of be and puts on a pair of pajama pants. 

“You want a shirt?”

“That would be nice, yeah.”

“I’d rather see you with out one but, here you go.” 

I rolled my eyes and laughed. 

He tosses me a t-shirt, chuckling to himself, and pulls me out of bed. He grabs my hand and leads me to the kitchen. 

“Eggs and toast?”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Coffee?”

“As quickly as possible.”

For the next hour or so, Ben and I talk about everything from his dog, which is so cute by the way, to my high school football team. 

“Well as fun as this has been, I’ve got to get to set! I’ll see you later?”

“See you later, love,” he says. He kisses my cheek as I leave his flat. As soon as I close the door I can’t stop smiling. 

Oh my god! I can’t believe the last 24 hours. 

I drive up to set, and quickly look in my car mirror to make sure I don’t look too awful. As soon as I walk up to the coffee machine Mia is there waiting for me. 

“Well, if the way you look right now is any indication on how your night went, I’d say it went pretty well.”

“You would be correct,” I say pouring myself a up of coffee. 

“So.... are you going to tell me about it?”

“There isn’t much to tell really. We went to the pub down the street, had a few drinks, and then a few more and maybe a shot and then you know..,”

“You went home with him?”

I laugh and start to blush, was I really that obvious?

“I did. All I will say is this: it was so good, I thought it was a dream.”

Mia literally squeals. 

“Shhh! We don’t need to bring any attention to this.”

“I knew it! You can tell just by looking at him that he is good in bed.”

“Mia! Shh! If we are going to talk about it we are going to talk about it quietly. The whole set doesn’t need to know.”

Right as I say this, another one of the stars, Joe Mazzello, walks by. 

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he says walking up to Mia and I, “But basically the whole set knows.”

“How?!”

“Well you two have been flirting nonstop since we started filming. You left together last night and now you’ve shown up today wearing his shirt. We might not have PHDs but we are quite observant. Honestly, good for you! I am sure there are girls on this set that would kill to be in your place!”

I can’t help but blush.

“He also texted me about it like 20 minutes ago, telling me about how he hasn’t been this excited about a girl in a long time. So, whatever you did, it worked,” he says with a laugh. 

“He really said that? About me?”

“Yeah, he’s really smitten with you, y/n.”

I can’t stop blushing! What is wrong with me? This kind of stuff never happens to me!

“Well if the whole set knows, you might as well yell about it Mia.”

Mia laughs and waits for Joe to walk away. 

“So what do you think will happen now?”

“I’m not sure really. We both had a lot of fun last night but we never really talked about what will come next.”

*Ding* 

“Oh wait, that’s him texting me.”

“What does it say?”

“He said ‘I had a great time last night, can I see you again after work?’“

“And what are you going to say?”

I can’t stop smiling at my phone. I type out “I would love that” and send it off. 

Tag List: @immajustreadwritereblog @vanniebean @onceuponadetectivedemigod @fancybrittrash

[kakashisavakening]

Chapter 9 - Love Triangle

Dark clouds were gathering above Konoha, and Tsunade sent Kakashi on a mission with some Jonins. Sakura was once more alone, since Naruto went off with Jiraiya to gain some intel on the Akatsuki. Most of them were still in the wind.

"But master Tsunade, don't you think sending Naruto after his pursuers would be a bold and - quite frankly - a dumb move?" - Sakura asked as she gathered some papers the hokage has already reviewed. 

"Don't question my decisions, Sakura." - She growled after taking a deep drink from a cup of tea. Lately she has been seen drinking way more tea than sake. But Sakura was smart enough to know what she kept in the lower drawers of her desk. There were eyes on her constantly, waiting for her to slip up, so it was understandable that she kept her alcohol consumption literally under the table. The pink haired kunoichi sighed at the unnecessarily angry response from the sannin. - "I think you need to practice some more, I haven't given you a proper beating in a while."

Tsunade's voice indicated that she was kidding, but her eyes said she was dead serious. And to a certain extent she was serious. There was still the matter of Kakashi and her - it was never discussed between Tsunade and Sakura. Heck, it was never even discussed between Kakashi and Sakura... after they were released from the hospital, Kakashi left to complete mission after mission, never letting the hokage assign him anything shorter than a 3 week job. Tunade never wanted to pry, but she felt responsible for pushing her into the arms of the copy-ninja. Sakura waited patiently, for she let herself believe at every single occasion that after the current mission he would come and talk to her. 

But it has been literal hell for her. She would wake up in agony sometimes, feeling a kunai cut into her sides, or flames burn her skin... but eventually realise that it was not her experiencing these injuries, but her other half - Kakashi. 

On the other side, she has stopped telling the details to Ino after a couple months, since all she said was that she should tell Tsunade about these side effects and that she should talk to Kakashi about it as well.... which was pretty obvious, and she knew it was logical, but she still couldn't bring herself to do that. Why? 

Because Tsunade had warned her before all this began that going in for Kakashi came with great risks and that the jutsu, which she planned to use was not fully ready. She had also told them to let it burn out. Maybe that is what Kakashi was doing. Waiting for all this to disappear.  However she felt as if the bond was getting stronger. She would sometimes feel more than the extreme pain of being injured. She would sometimes feel hungry after just finishing a meal or feel sadness out of the blue.  The other reason was that she had walked by Kakashi's place on purpose so many times in hopes of running into the sensei that now she could not even bring herself to go near the neighbourhood anymore. The locals started to notice her, a lady in the small convenience store knew her by name and since she always pretended she was there to help someone, most people knew her for helping out wherever there was work to be done. It gained her a very positive reputation, but she was sure if the sensei wanted to notice her, he would have had plenty of opportunities. He never did, and because of that, she started going less and less until she gave up hope entirely. 

I wish I would know why men tend to avoid me like this... even the sensei... Her thought trailed back to their one night stand - if it can be called as such. Physically, they only almost kissed. Mentally, they knew every inch of each other. She looked at the corner where she would take a left turn to walk to Kakashi's neighbourhood... and instead, she took the right. Going into a small bar, she ordered a bottle of sake with the clear intention of drinking away her sorrow and moving on from all and every heartbreak she has ever had to experience. But as soon as she poured her first cup, a figure slipped into the booth with her.

"I wouldn't advise you to do that." - Shikamaru said as he lit a cigarette. Ever since Asuma's death, he'd been smoking nonstop. Understandably so. 

"I won't lecture you on the health risks of smoking, and you won't bug me for day-drinking... How does that sound, Nara?" - She said after throwing her first drink back. 

"Like a deal, Haruno... Like a deal." - Shikamaru sighed and waved at the waitress to bring him a cup too. He poured them both the next round and drank his before Sakura could object. 

"So what is the deal with you, why are you here?" - She inquired. Her pony tailed friend just shrugged his shoulders.

"You could say, life's being a drag." - He said, quickly drinking another round, catching up to her. 

"Oh, I can relate." - She sighed.

After four bottles of sake, they were both extremely intoxicated. She had told Shikamaru everything about how she was connected with Kakashi and how they had a moment but months had since passed them by. He told her about how Ino got weird after he told her about his relationship with Temari.

“She was super supportive at first, always helping me figure out what that damned woman wated or meant... then when I asked for advice on what is the right time to suggest some more... intimate relations, she just dropped me like I was just some annoying dude she had to put up with.” - Shikamaru sighed - “She even said that she was only hanging out with me because the history of our families... because it was mandatory. A day or so after that she started sleeping with Genma. She seems happy, so I am sure he treats her right, but it’s... it’s GENMA for fuck’s sake. That man is a pain in the butt when it comes to women. Leaving the rest of the team the pick up the pieces when he is done with her.”

Sakura chuckled a bit. - “Ino can be harsh when she feels vulnerable.. and she does stupid things to hide her pain.” - she waved at the waitress and ordered a glass of water. She was sure this topic required a bit more attention than her drunk brain could manage.

“Pain?” - Shikamaru scoffed - “What about the pain she inflicts on the rest of us?”

“Nara, you are the smartest man in Konoha. Hell, maybe the smartest ninja alive right now... yet you still manage to be dumb when it comes to women.” - Sakura chugged her water and poured another glass from the pitcher the waitress (very considerately) brought instead of one single glass.

Shikamaru looked confused for a second then burried his face in his hands - “Please don’t tell me Ino...” - he started massaging his temples - “No, that cannot be. You are just messing with me.”

“I am her best friend. I know Ino like the back of my hand..” - she said and reached across the table to put her hand on his shoulders - “She might have acted like she never cared for you like that, because she felt like she had to go for the coolest man possible.. but it is not news.” - Sakura shrugged her shoulders. Ino has never told her she liked Shikamaru per se, but she did told her things that made it clear as day. The blonde admired his wit and strenght openly, looked up to him and complained about Temari to Sakura nonstop. She had even went as far as to say that the sand ninja is not worthy of her teammate’s attention - let alone his love. Obviously, ‘I love Shikamaru Nara’ never left her lips... it was possible even she didn’t know how obvious it was.

“It is news.” - Shikamaru growled. He was trying to make sense of it all. They have known each other since they were born. Their families were so intertwined they might as well be in the same clan. He has been around Ino through thick and thin, saw her at her lowest and they helped each other through more than one difficult situation. It would be a lie to say he has never once looked at her and thought about her in a different way than a friend or a comrade. She was extremely beautiful - that was undeniable, but he found her hunger for attention and twisted image of beauty repulsive. He had brought Ino home after countless times after she had a couple more drinks than she should have and he recalled that each and every time Ino tried to get him to bring her to his apartment rather than hers, but he thought it was because of her father being a drag when she was drunk. She did flirt with him openly when she wanted something, but again, she WANTED something. It was her way of GETTING what she wanted from every member of the opposite sex.

Sakura watched with amusement as a storm of emotions stormed across the poor man’s face. Sure enough, Ino was a piece of work, and Shikamaru has always voiced his frustration with complicated women.

“But, if she wanted to get with me, what is the deal with her and Genma?” - He asked and poured himself another glass of sake. He was not going to stop just because his drinking buddy has. - “She should have known I won’t ever go for her like that. Genma is not just my elder and my superior. He is a friend.”

“Rebound.” - she said without looking up. He has realized that she has been playing with her fingers. The topic made her uncomfortable for some reason. Even she couldn’t explain why. - “Look, Ino is my best friend. I shouldn’t even tell any of this to you. She would squash me like a bug if she knew we talked about this. But I want her to be happy, and I guess I wanted you to see the whole picture. I’m sure you love Temari. You two have had chemistry since day one. But I would much rather see her with you than anyone else.”

“That’s not fair.” - Shikamaru said and lit another cigarette. - “Temari and I have had some sort of connection, sure. And dating her has been not awful either. But you know I would give anything up for my team.” - he blew out the smoke. That was true, he would have given up his life to protect Ino and Choji. But this was different. He was not obligated to chose. He could just go on and be with Temari, Ino would find a man easily. She would still live happily ever after. But blaming Sakura was easier. What he really blamed her for was giving him ideas rather than telling him the truth.

“Life’s not fair, Nara.” - She finished her drink, but despite her words, she did feel a bit guilty. It was not fair steering Shikamaru towards Ino when she was occupied with Genma. But her friend chose the biggest playboy in the village for a reason.

“So what about Kakashi?” - Shikamaru tried to turn the topic around.

“What about Kakashi?” - echoed a man standing by their table. He appeared there without them noticing. Kakashi. In the flesh. He wore baggy dark blue cargo pants and military boots and a sleeveless slik top that was in one with his mask. The top was thin and figure fitting. Every muscle visible underneath. Sakura felt her throat tighten as her eyes met his. She waited for so long. She longed for him to come to talk to her since he left. Now he was here, and she just wanted to run.

[ficsxreaderr]

Running lines.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

A/N: I know this one isn’t a big deal, nor it is the most original thing I’ve written but I just had the idea wandering around my head so I wrote it down! Ballroom is taking me a while, but I’m getting there!!

I don’t have a “permanent” tag list, but if you would like to be tagged in the upcoming stories (Seb/Bucky/Marvel related), just ask!!

Warnings: Making out?? Small amount of fluff...

Reblogging and feedback are appreciated!

“Y/N, did you make sure you cancelled my breakfast meeting tomorrow?” He asks as he sits on the couch of his office, taking the book he’s been reading from the coffee table.

“Yes, Robert, everyone’s been notified, and I also set your lunch meeting for…2 PM.” You reply checking your tablet, twice so you don’t make a mistake and send Robert Downey Jr. an hour early or an hour late for his meeting. You’re sitting on the couch across the table from him, checking multiple apps as you revise his schedule.

“Perfect, that’s all for now, thanks. Now go have some coffee, please, I can’t imagine what 8 hours straight walking beside me feels like.” He replies, with the most concerned tone you could hear. You smile at him in relief and turn off your tablet as a sign that you’re done for the day.

“Thanks, Rob, and if you need me, please call my phone or text me, okay?”

“I won’t do that because as for this moment you’re free for the rest of the day. If I need to be a pain in the ass I will be to someone else.” He shrugs, and you both laugh, but you know he means every word of it.

“Alright, bye, Robert, enjoy your day.”

“Bye, kid.” He winks at you and you walk away, as tired as ever. You’ve been working for him nonstop for the past three days, he’s been so busy lately which instantly makes you busy. You don’t have much to complain about, though, he’s the best boss you could ask for. He has his bad moments just like anyone else, but you’ve known him for three years now, you know how to handle him. He’s never disrespected you, you’ve had your fights and arguments, but it hasn’t gone that far. Sometimes, he drives you crazy because he’s so indecisive about the dates he wants to set for appointments or meetings, but you rather help him choose instead of making the decision harder for him

You leave his office and as you close the glass door, you sigh, keeping everything that reminds you of work in your purse. You walk down the hall, and to the elevators to make your way out of the building.

You walk out and hear your phone starts ringing, since you had put it inside your purse, you need to look for it, and while you’re at it, you curse yourself for not turning it off before. You keep walking but you can’t find it, and as you stuff your hand deeper in the mess your bag is right now, you’re stopped by a voluminous body, which instantly makes you look up, scared of someone being mad at your for walking so stupidly.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot.” You say without recognizing who it is.

“Relax, Y/N,” Sebastian chuckles at your reaction. “What is Downey making you do now?” He puts his hands on your shoulders, ready to listen to your complaints. You’re not going to tell him that, but finding him now is just what you needed to make your day brighter.

“Oh, no, nothing, I just heard my phone ringing and couldn’t find it in this damned bag.” You run a hand through your hair in desperation and sigh deeply. “But tell me, how are you?”

“How are you?” He frowns in concern. He cannot stand seeing you when you’re stressed, he feels the need to make everything right for you. “He’s driving you crazy, isn’t he?”

“No, not at all, in fact he gave me the rest of the day off but I—you know how I am, I stress out for nothing.”

“Well, he better be treating you right if he doesn’t want to hear a word or two from me.” He jokes, stroking your upper arms for you to relax.

“Shut up, you wouldn’t kill a fly!” You hit his arm playfully.

“For a girl like you, I’d have everybody fired if necessary.” You roll your eyes in amusement and he chuckles as he sees you’re now a little relieved. “I’m glad I ran into you, sweetheart, I hate to say this now but I was wondering if you’d help me run through some lines, you’re the best at it…but if you’re too tired, then I understand.” And there it is…sweetheart. You’ve known Sebastian for almost a year, and during the past months he’s chosen to call you with that pet name. You melt inside every time he calls you that, and you would die for him to feel the same way you feel, but maybe it’s just flirting and he doesn’t mean anything by it.

“I’m never too tired for you, Seb, I love running lines with you.” You certainly do, you love anything that has to do with hanging out with him. He smiles broadly and pulls you in for a hug, his hugs are the best. He strokes your back up and down, and you surround his huge body with your arms. You inhale his scent, too god for your senses, close your eyes and smile, too glad you just found him. He nuzzles your hair and then pulls away, too soon for you. “Your place or mine?” You ask.

“If you’re good with it, we can go to my place, we can run lines, and then watch a movie…or watch a movie and then run lines, it’s your call.” He shrugs, letting you make the decision you want, as always.

“Your place is fine, I guess, my place is a mess right now. This script is for your new project, right?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t let you even think of the script for anything Marvel related, that would kill you…and the Russos would kill me.”

“Thanks for your consideration, Stan.” He chuckles. “Shall we?” You ask, gesturing with your arm for you to start walking. You get to his car and, as usual, he opens the door for you and then gets in to drive to his place.

—

“Have I ever told you I love your apartment? It’s so classy and the view is great!” You say, standing in the living room with your arms crossed, watching through the huge window that lets you see the whole city. Sebastian is making some popcorn for the movie you’re going to watch, since you both decided to do that first.

“It’s no big deal, I picked this place for the silence, to be honest.” He speaks up from the kitchen, as humble as ever.

Once he’s done, he walks back to the living room and sits on the couch. “Come here, sweetheart, I poured you some beer if you’re in the mood.” He says turning on the TV and starting the Netflix app. You sit beside him, at a distance that won’t make it obvious you’re dying to cuddle with him, but that doesn’t show that you’re trying to stay away.

“What are we—did we just meet?” He frowns, sarcastically. “Get closer, it’s not like we don’t know each other!” He says, chuckling and propping his arm on the back rest, inviting you to sit as closer as possible so he can put his arm around you. Screaming internally but just smiling on the outside, you do as he tells you, trying not to look so eager. He drapes his arm around you, stroking your shoulder as you get comfortable.

“Are you okay there?” He asks, looking down at you, and you’re just dying to tell him you’re more than perfect, that you’re the happiest when he’s around. You nod and give him a smirk, and he smiles back, letting you see the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, those you love so damn much.

As you’re watching the movie, he lets you grab your beer from the coffee table, but as soon as you lean back on the couch, he drapes his arm around you again, pulling you closer to him. Once or twice, he kisses or nuzzles your hair, or places his fingers on your nape, caressing it through your hair, making you melt at the warmth of his hands. He plays with the ends of your hair, he asks you if you’re comfortable every twenty minutes, and if you’re cold every fifteen minutes. Within the first thirty minutes of the movie, you feel a lot more confident, and curl up your legs on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder, near his chest, and resting your hand on his abdomen, and so when he takes a deep breath or chuckles, you feel his chest vibrate against your ear, which only sends shivers through your body, and peace to your mind.

“I was not sure you were going to like it, but I see you did, you were quiet during the whole thing. Or did you hate it?” He asks after you’ve watched Inception, not moving a muscle to change his position.

“Of course I liked it, Seb, I had only watched parts of it but I never got it until now.” You reply, in almost a murmur, since you’re now a little sleepy.

“You sound tired, Y/N, are you sure you don’t want to go home?” You could be awake for hours if it meant spending them with him, so you just nod and sit up, facing him, showing him your best smile.

“I’m okay, I’m tired but we still have a pending task.” You prop your elbow on the couch, fisting your hand and resting your head on it. “Hey, Seb?” You say, already regretting what you’re going to ask, but you know if you don’t do it now, you never will.

“What is it?” He asks, mimicking your position.

“Why did you start calling me…sweetheart, and treating me the way you do?” You ask, almost murmuring but very sure of what you want to know. He remains silent for a moment.

“I thought you knew how I felt, Y/N.”

“I know you care about me, I know I’m your friend, but you’ve never told me anything else.” You say, hoping with all your might that he will tell you how wrong you are and how he’s fallen for you as hard as you have for him.

He draws his hand to your cheek, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb. He stares for a moment, his eyes glowing in the dim light, you’re mesmerized.

“I’m crazy about you, Y/N, I’m…the luckiest man for finding you and having this…bond with you, I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” Your stomach sinks, your heart is pounding, you can literally hear it; you feel your pulse getting stronger and faster, you even feel your hands are shaking. You thank God the lights are low so he can’t see your face as hot as fire, though you know he might feel it as he hasn’t taken his hand off.

“W-why didn’t you tell me…before?” That is all you manage to ask. You want to cry of happiness but you still can speak clearly without your voice cracking up.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way, at the moment I still am. I was going to tell you, I just never knew how or when. I-I’m such an idiot, Y/N, I’m sorry.” Why the hell is he apologizing for? He didn’t do anything wrong and making him feel he did was certainly not your intention when you asked him that.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, I just wanted to know why you hadn’t told me because it drove me insane to be…so in love with you…” You whisper the last words, already falling apart and wanting to hug him forever.

He leans over, slowly, staring at your eyes until he kisses you. He slowly grazes his lips against yours, until you press yours against his, allowing him to kiss you as deeply as he wants to. He melts into the kiss, letting out a soft moan that makes you smile, but you’re unable to pull away. He keeps kissing you, placing one hand on your waist while the other one remains on your face; you place your hands around his nape, grabbing his hair gently.

“Stay the night, Y/N.” He whispers as he stops kissing you for a second to catch his breath. He stares at you with his beautiful eyes, which beg you to stay, hadn’t he said the words.

“I have to get up early and I have no clothes here.” You reply while he draws his lips to your neck, flipping the ends of your hair so your neck is exposed.

“I’ll drive you home early, I swear.” He murmurs against your ear, making your heart rumble, your body shiver and your hands fist on his hair. He nibbles your ear, and you close your eyes, letting out a small breath.

“Give me one more reason to stay.” You tease him, knowing damn well you already made up your mind, which you clearly couldn’t control given the way Sebastian was so close to your body, driving all of it completely insane.

He looks at you, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and pecks your lips softly.

“I—I love you, Y/N.” You let out a breath and curl up your lips in a smile, not believing your ears. Your hands now cup his face, tracing your thumb along his lower lip, he grabs your wrist and draws your hand to his lips, kissing your palm. “Is that enough?” He frowns.

“It’s more than enough, Sebastian.” You kiss him softly. “I love you, too.”

…

“Hey, Y/N.” You hear a whisper against your ear. Now, you feel his lips softly grazing your cheek, his fingers tracing along your neck, and his hands moving slowly along your bare shoulders. He kisses your shoulder, making you shift on your side to face him. “Good morning, baby.” He smiles broadly at the sight of your face, even if you feel you look lousy and tired. He strokes your cheekbone with the back of his fingers and kisses you softly.

“Good morning, Seb.” You sigh and smile to him. “Did last night really happen?” You ask, making him chuckle.

“Of course it did, baby, I find it hard to believe it myself, but it did.” In a second you come back to Earth. Shit, it’s Friday.

You sit up quickly on the bed and glance at the clock. “Shit, it’s late, Robert must have called me at least 50 times by now!” You exclaim, quickly sitting on the edge of the bed to put on your clothes and shoes. Before you can even stand up, Sebastian grabs your arm gently.

“Y/N, Y/N, relax.” He says, making you look at him over your shoulder. He sits up and kisses your cheek. “I called Downey at 7, okay? I told him you were sick and you had stayed here because it was too cold outside for you to go back home.”

You sit back on the bed, crossing your legs. “Did he buy it?”

“Fuck no, but he still gave you the day off.” He chuckles and you mimic him. He draws his hand to your neck and kisses you deeply, groaning softly when you bite his lower lip. “I love it when you do that.” He shakes his head in amusement, smirking and biting your lip. “I love all of you, baby.”

[quiet-onset]

Secrets

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

TW: mugging

Word Count: 2,329

Lunch was pretty much the best time of day for you.

Most of your day was spent waiting for your usual patients (not that you had a bunch) or worrying how you were gonna pay rent for that office space. At lunch time, however, you went across the hall to the law firm where your best friends were always waiting with the day’s meal.

Though, the best part was that lunchtime was almost always at seven o’clock in the evening.

You twisted the knob to Nelson and Murdock Law Firm only to discover that it was locked. You sighed, remembering that Foggy was worried that there would people after then after the whole Fisk ordeal. “Hey,” You called, “It’s your friend who’s definitely not here to murder you.”

A minute later, Foggy opened the door with an exasperated look on his face. “Must you make fun of me all the time?”

“I must.” You grinned. “Please tell me we have something good tonight.”

“Well, I did pick up burgers from the joint down the street you like.”

“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite.” You said, sighing happily when Foggy tossed you a burger.

Just then, Matt appeared in the doorway as he finally left his office. He crossed his arms and smiled that smile that made your stomach flutter. “I thought I was your favorite.”

“Obviously, I’m her favorite. Look at me.” Foggy shook his head as if it were obvious.

“Can’t really do that, bud.”

You interrupted their disagreement with a laugh, “The secret to parenting is to tell both your children they’re your favorite.”

“Hey, Y/N, can you take me over to that chair?” Matt asked you.

All three of you knew damn well that he could get to the chair on his own. He was just looking for an excuse to get closer, to fluster you. Foggy watched you with an amused look as you hopped down from the desk and walked over to Matt. “I’m starting to think you’re doing this just so you can touch me.” You told him.

“Of course,” He chuckled, “Who wouldn’t want some of your elbow crease action? Among other things, I mean.”

Foggy watched on as your cheeks flushed a light shade of pink and pretended to gag. You’d never been more thankful that Matt couldn’t see.

“You two make me sick.” Foggy said through a mouthful of cheeseburger.

When you finally made to the chair, Matt sat down and immediately jumped up. “So either I sat on something or our chair has a bump in it.”

You looked under him and saw that your bottle of mace had rolled off the table and onto the chair. You grabbed it and allowed him to sit back down. “My bad. It’s the mace you gave me when I moved here.”

Matt laughed, “You still have that?”

“Of course she does!” Foggy said. “When you’re as gorgeous as Y/N, you gotta have something to weed off the creeps.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Nelson. Besides, as gorgeous as I may or may not be, I’ve never had to use it. I keep it with me—“

“To remind yourself of how much you love me?” Matt guessed.

“—Just in case.” You said, feeling a new blush creep up on your cheeks.

After that, the three of you caught up with a short conversation. You asked them how the firm was doing. They asked you how your practice was doing. It was the usual small that you liked to get out of the way before you moved onto more pressing matters. Like who would win the Superbowl or whether a hot dog is a sandwich. Or  local news.

“Did you guys hear about Daredevil again?” You asked them as you ate another fry.

Foggy gave Matt a slightly worried look, but luckily you didn’t noticed. Matt cleared his throat and sat up a bit in chair. “What about him?”

“That he’s trying to go up against that Punisher guy.”

Foggy shrugged nonchalantly, “I mean, either way, the bad guys are getting off the streets.”

“But do they really deserve to die?” You asked. “There’s gotta be a line. Daredevil’s done a lot of crazy shit, but I’ve gotta say, I’m with him on this one.”

Matt stood up abruptly and reached for the wall, feeling his way across the room. He grabbed his walking stick and headed for the door. “I, uh, need to get some rest. Big case tomorrow.”

When he left, the breeze pulled the door closed with a slam. You looked to Foggy with a confused look. “What crawled up his butt?”

He fought the urge to tell you the truth and sighed. “I don’t know. He’s been acting pretty weird lately.”

“And he hasn’t talked to you about it?”

“Nope.” Foggy shook his head. “It might just be the case. We’ve been working it kinda nonstop ever since we got it.”

You chuckled, knowing that your two best friends worked their hardest on each and every case, no matter how big or small. It was part of the reason you admired them so much. “You guys should learn how to rest. It’s really easy.”

He snorted, “Tell me about it.”

After an hour or so of talking and debating with Foggy, you both headed home. Foggy had offered to walk you home, but you declined despite his insistence. “I’ll be fine, Nelson. Go home and sleep.” You’d said.

You walked down the street, your shoes clicking against the concrete. Although it was dark, and the only lighting nearby were streetlights, you weren’t really scared. You always walked home this way. You’ve never ran into any trouble in Hell’s Kitchen at night.

Until that night.

Once you were a few blocks away from the firm, you heard a second set of footsteps behind you. You turned a corner and caught a glimpse of a man. He was definitely following you. You picked up the pace, starting to panic when the heavy footsteps behind you did the same. As soon as you reached for the mace in your bag, a hand was on your shoulder, pulling you into an alley.

The man’s body was practically pressed against yours as you let out a scream. “Shhh.” He said. He covered your mouth with a leather clad when you felt a cold piece of metal against your temple. “I don’t wanna have to hurt you.”

You shook your head, eyes desperate and wide. Tears threatened to fall as you spoke into his hand. “I’ll give you anything you want! Please!”

“Let’s start with your money, yeah?”

You nodded.

He stepped away from you, warning you to move slowly. You pulled out your wallet and offered it to him. He plucked it from your hand, a menacing smile on his face. “You know,” He said, “I think there’s something else I want.”

Before the man could get any closer, a shadow dropped between the two of you. When the shadow stood up straight, he towered over your mugger. You could tell from the suit that adorned the shadow’s body who it was.

Daredevil. He said one word to you. “Run.”

So, you ran down the alley and squatted behind a dumpster. You could hear the fight from your hiding spot. You heard every grunt, and punch, and every sickening thud when a body hit the ground. Then, all of a sudden, it was silent.

You brought your knees to your chest as you reached back into your bag and grabbed the mace. You clutched onto it as you heard footsteps slowly approaching you.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” It was Daredevil. His voice sounded familiar to you. The grip on your mace loosened as he spoke again. “That man won’t hurt you anymore. I have your wallet.”

When he finally stood in front of you, you sprang up with your eyebrows furrowed. It couldn’t be who you thought it was, right? “Matt?”

Matt stood there, speechless. He knew it was you (which was part of the reason he beat your mugger until his face was bloody). When he heard the scream and headed towards you, he could smell your shampoo from down the block. He didn’t think you would figure it out. Hell, he almost had to spell it out for Foggy. “H-How did you know it was me?”

“You think I don’t know my best friend’s voice?!” You asked him incredulously, smacking his chest. “How are you doing this? You’re blind! You’re the freaking Daredevil?! We literally had a whole discussion about you in the firm an hour ago!”

“Could you keep your voice down? Jesus!”

“And why the hell are you so stupid?! You’re throwing yourself in front of the Punisher every night!” You found yourself hitting him harder and harder with every word. To him, though, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

“I’ll explain everything, just be quiet—“

“Damn right, you will!” You said. “What the hell, Matt?!”

“Look, I’d rather not have my identity told to the whole world, so can we discuss this elsewhere?” He asked calmly.

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him. You wondered for a moment if he could tell that you were glaring at him. You then rolled your eyes and sighed, “Meet me on the rooftop of my building.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Since you like hanging out on rooftops.”

“I got it, Y/N, thanks.”

Matt was already waiting for you when you arrived. He sat on the edge with his legs dangling over the side. He seemed on edge, listening for anybody in danger. He was almost unrecognizable to you in that suit. Was he still the same man you flirted with endlessly? The one gave you that bottle of mace because he was so worried that something would happen to you?

“You want me to take it off?” He asked. You jumped when he spoke. You didn’t think he knew you were there.

“Please.”

You watched him pull the mask off as you walked towards him. He lifted his legs and spun around to face you. His eyes still had that sort of blank look that most blind people had. What you couldn’t figure out is how he could fight criminals he couldn’t even see.

“I know you must have a lot of questions.”

“That’s an understatement.” You scoffed.

“Just let me explain.” He said. “Then you can be mad at me and tell me off, alright?”

Matt adjusted on the edge, and you felt a sudden rush of worry was over you. What if he fell over the edge? He, however, took the hint and stood up, opting to sit on a barrel across from you. You looked at him with a confused look, “How did you know I was—“

“Your heartbeat got faster when I moved.”

“You can hear my heartbeat?”

“Its part of the explanation.”

So you sat with Matt for an hour as he explained. He told you about the chemicals, the training, his sight and senses. He told you about what happened with Fisk and what was happening with the Punisher. He wanted you to know everything.

At the end, you were still so angry with him. Not just for not telling you, but for putting himself in danger day in and day out. “You can’t just run around the city beating up bad guys!”

“You’re taking this a lot better than Foggy.” He muttered to himself.

“What?! You told Foggy, but not me?! What the hell, Matthew?!”

“As much as I love hearing you shout my name, now is not the time.” He held up his mask to remind you.

“Don’t you try to flirt your way out of this!” You stood from your barrel, pacing in front of him. “This is totally irresponsible of you! And inconsiderate! Did you ever think about what would happen if they found out who you were?!”

“That’s why I got a suit and a mask.” He told you. “I’m taking precautions.”

“Obviously not enough if I can recognize your voice.”

“I’ll look into a voice changer then.” He chuckled. “Just please stop being mad at me. This is something I have to do.”

“You could let the police do their jobs.” You said, your index finger poking at his chest.

“The guys I fight have men inside the force. I need you to trust me.”

“Trust?!” You scoffed. “You could’ve died, Matt! You still could! I don’t even know what I would do if you died. What if I never got to—“

You stopped yourself before you could say. You realized then why you were so angry. Sure, you were angry that he lied to you, but that wasn’t why your heart was racing at the thought of him getting hurt.

You loved him. You loved Matt Murdock. You loved Daredevil.

And that scared you to death.

“Y/N?” Matt called. “What if you never got to what?”

He knew exactly what you wanted to say. He just wanted to hear you say it. You cleared your throat, pulling on the hem of your shirt. “What if I never got to…” You trailed off again. You weren’t sure why you couldn’t say it. You decided to just pretend like it didn’t happen. “The point is you should’ve told me and Foggy sooner. We’re your best friends and we’re gonna worry about you—“

Suddenly, a pair of lips were pressed to yours. His leather clad hands were at the bottom of your back, pulling you closer as your lips moved together. Your hands found their way to his stubbly cheeks when you both pulled away.

You weren’t sure that you agreed with his being Daredevil, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. In that moment, he was Matt Murdock, and you were ready to accept whatever came with that.

“I was trying to be mad at you.”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

Forever Tags:

@jockarchie, @kimmy-h-life​, @wishuponastarlana​, @ben-platt-deserves-the-world​, @yumel21​, @here-for-your-bullshit​, @bethbat​

[anastycrimeboy]

Honestly, not much of someone who post anything but I feel like I wanted to talk aloud to the world anoynomously and on a format noone would likely look at so eh. Anyways I met you in 7th grade for the first time. Me? I was quite frankly just an antisocial prick. We talked truly for the first time I believe in social studies where you refered to me as "turtle boy" because of the way I sat (think somewhat like L from death note) we had a group assignment, something minor. I remember reading some question outloud I think, misspoke something aloud and had said "Saint Texas" I have no idea why it was so funny at the time but I remember it being one of the inciting incidences of our friendship. At first, I acted quite cold and annoyed towards you and your friend. You two, however, were quite subborn on making me your friend. Something I am quite honestly very greatful for, as i have no doubt my life would be very different had you two not done so. So we became friends. True friends. The closest and best two friends ive ever had the experiance of having. I dont remember much more of consequence happening in our relationships development during 7th grade. Eventually 8th grade rolled around and what a year that was, for both of us, and our mutual friend as well. You and your friend had a tough, depressing year. By December, so had I become immersed within the pit of depression. However when thinking back, I see that maybe that wasnt such a horrible thing. Our mutal suffering had brought us closer together in some ways. We shared thoughts, emotions, memories, things that brought us closer together. At some point through this, I had begun to have feelings for you. I remember vividly how happy I was when we would stay up until 3 A.M talking nonstop about anything. How happy it made me to simply sit there for hours and talk to you and see your beautiful face and hear your wonderful voice, laughter... I knew how I felt about you. I didnt tell you how I felt for a while. Eventually you had gotten with a guy, actually a friend of mine at the time. Man was I jealous of him... He got your first kiss, was I believe your first boyfriend to my knowlege. He got to hold you, cuddle with you, kiss you, be with you in a way I felt I probably never would. Ha, hell how right I was. You were with him for some time. Through this we continued our close relationship, talked for hours, just enjoyed eachothers presence, at least I know I did. I know at some point while you were with him, believe it was around Christmas, I had told you that I liked you. Not in the manner of just being friends but in a romantic manner. Pretty stupid looking bad, who tells someone they like them when they have a boyfriend? It didnt change anything really, you had expressed that that would not happen then at least. You let me off easy when I had told you then, said perhaps someday. I truly took that to heart. Looking bad, I probably shouldnt have haha. Things were awkward for a week or so but things got back to normal between us soon enough, no damage done. I remember being very very envious of your boyfriend, man jealously is such a powerful emotion. Somewhere around Feburary I remember you and him had broken up for good. As bad as it sounds I remember being trilled that had happend, in spite of your obvious greif and pain at the failure of a long term relationship. To be fair, I was young. I didnt truly understand what love was then. More than likely, then what I had felt for you was nothing more than simple infatuation. Although at the same time it was more than that, i cared for you deeply, and honestly, as we both recognize now the guy was a total asshole. So i like to justify that thats part of what I was so thrilled about but I couldnt say for certain. At this point, both our states of mental health were pretty piss poor. Both of us very depressed people, something that had only gotten worse for us both over the year. You became... this bright sun in my everyday life. The one person who would always bring a smile to my face everytime I simply laid eyes upon you. Without you, I felt hallow, and with you I felt like the sun was shinning on my skin on a spring day. I knew full well you didnt feel the same way about me. Deep down I knew you never would truly feel the same way. However I held some feable hope thst maybe, just maybe one day you'd love me like I grew to love you. Sometime around april, or may you and your friend were just about healed from this depression we had suffered, and I had stagnated. Looking bad, im sure that was mostly due to one crucial fact: you two were bound to go to one high school, and me, another. I knew I was losing two people who.... quite frankly were closer to me than my family ever was, even including my beloved deceased father. I remember on the last day of school crying a bloody waterfall. I never conciously thought this at the time, but im sure in my heart I knew: this would cement that our relationship would only go downhill in terms of our closeness, there was no alternative. You see i neglected to mention, we had experianced a bit of a falling out a month and a half before graduation relating to my depression and extreme drug use. You guys eventually so fed up with it you stopped talking to me altogether. This had forced me to stop abusing oxycotten, and in doing so, you accepted me once more as your friend a week or two before school ended. Our other friend however, from this point forward, was no longer a friend of mine. And my fallout with her was permanent. This left me with you as literally my only true close friend. And man the thought of losing you too then was just... Unfathomable. During the summer I recall talking to you somewhat frequently for a month or so. Then, there was a point when I had for some stupid reason, talked about my issues with your sister. God knows why, i sure dont know what the hell i was thinking haha. This led to you being quite rightly pissed, essentially telling me that you were done talking to me until I got my head straight and out of my shithole of a depression. Quite frankly looking back, man was you not talking to me a great motivator. First it got me to stop doing hard drugs, then got me to actually really start to work on changing my mental outlook on life. By the end of the summer we were talking again, friends once more. Perhaps not as close as I wished but thats not suprising. Id be lieing I said I was totally better. That wouldnt happen until February of next year. But I was definetly in a better state than the end of 8th grade. School started, and man did I hate it. I never realized that truthfully, the only reason I could stand school so much was because of how happy seeing you made me. At this time in my life, I had no real self-confidence. I was a smart kid, my techers knew this, my mom knew it, but damn my grades sure as hell didnt reflect it. I hated school so much without you, i skipped probably more than 30 days and walked home in the first semester. We talked, texted. But man did I miss you... I only saw you once that year, during thanksgiving break. That was by far the most fun I have ever had before. We didnt do anything crazy. We just went out, had got orange leaf, went to barns and nobles and got coffee, you dragged into bath and bodyworks.. Haha man I think that was, what? The second? Third time just you and me hung out by ourselves in peron? I remember never wanting that day to end. I remember thinking 'what if everyday could be like this?' My love for you only grew as time went on it seemed. Distance has never dulled my love for you in the slightest. Time went on. By Feburary my mom was getting desperate reguarding my depression and alarming rate of skipping school, so she took me out and placed me in a charter school, self paced, self taught. A place I could avoid everyone and just learn. Did wonders for my confidence and my mental health. Since then ive been just fine, had a great outlook on life. Great work ethic. You were always there, cheering me on as I got better and worked harder. Haha I remember we flirted a little toward the end of that you. You teased me quite often texting me on my phone you little minx hahaha. Ah, yeah that had sent me some mixed singals alright. Our relationship was still quite solid. We were close, had grown up quite a bit for the year before... things seemed good. Summer once again rolled around, we hung out on my birthday. That alone made it my favorite birthday I've had to date. We had gone to the movies, and just went back to my house, smoked a bowl or two, and relaxed and watch some Star Wars. Enjoyed our time together. I remember multiple times wanting nothing more than to get closer to you and just hold you in my arms... Eventually you left. Once again, I couldnt help but feel that strange hallowness I experiance without you. Wishing I was brave enough to try to hold you, kiss you. Summer went by. We kept somewhat in touch. The next year, 10th grade, is when I would say we truly started to experiance an increase in the gap between us. We talked yes, occassionally discussing what was going on in eachother lives. By this point, and this point onward I dont think we ever shared another long conversaion. Never since then have we had one of those wonderful nights we would just stay up and just talk and enjoy the others presence... Nope. Those times seemed to have passed. I tried on occasion to start one of those kinds conversations, but something would always come up, or one of your sisters would interupt is and eventually i'd just let you go as we were no longer talking, ect. I think i may have seen you once that year. I dont truly remember it if we did. That year went by quickly. We kept in touch of course. We would always talk about how much we missed eachother ha... I just worked hard that year. Nothing else to do really. I've always been a bit of a loner socially and dont bother making friends. Did quite well, ended up both my softmore and junior year, and became a senior. You were quite proud of me I remember. Once again, I got to see you on my birthday and, well, it was then I think I really noticed the deaph of how much we had spaced apart. We just kinda watched a movie for a few hours and you left after a while. I remember being nervous the whole time. We hadnt seen eachother in so long I wasnt sure how to act. I still loved you, just as much as ever, but for fucks sake I didn't for the life of me know what to say, what to do, how to act. I didn't really know what to do around you anymore. By then... We seldomly saw eachother over the course two years, hardly spoke the year before. We didnt have recent experiances, or interesting things to talk about. Well I mean at least I didn't. As a bit of a loner all I had to discuss was my acedemic acheivement and video games or music. Im sure you had stuff going on in your life but by then... Im pretty sure we had seperated to a degree where you didn't even know where to begin discussing what was going on with you, nor did I know the questions to ask. So yeah that was awkward. And I remember kicking myself again and again over it. Same thing happened in augest when I went to your house before school started.... Sigh I remember thoughout these years you've had a few boyfriends, by the middle of freshman year I had a much better grasp on the true meaning of love: that when you love someone, you put their needs, their wants, and their happiness before yours. So I was okay with it. I let go of jealousy. What replaced it was this heart wrenching, smoach dropping sadness when you were with someone else. But again, I knew that you'd never truly loved me in the romantic sense, just as friends really. I knew this spite of the fact you had told me otherwise multiple times. I know you were just reassuring me to spare my feelings. And in a way, i thank you for that. Hell at times, I even let myself believe it. But I was somewhat hopeful, some peice of me remained stubborn that one day you just might like me even slightly in a romantic manner. Hell im graduating now, and I still have not dated, kissed, loved, or truly considered being with another girl. Ive always hoped you would be my first everything. My first kiss, first girlfriend, first date. Hell one day I hoped youd be my first and only wife... we'd have a beautiful little girl... Sigh. Just dreams I suppose. Then this year cam along. Things only got worse. We've hardly talked. I mean sure ill text you general well wishes most mornings when I can and have said more "I love yous" than one could probably count but really? Thats about it. Weve met up twice this year for lunch but i feel like the damage has been done already. Yes yes we have seen eachother but you know I find it hasnt actually alleaviated my missing you. Its like... Idk I see you but at the same time I didnt. Both times we just talked about old friends, school, advancements in life. Nothing really significant or personal... Only had two, somewhat awkward, hugs with you this year. When, bloody hell, ive always wanted so much more than that. Now... The year is ending and really I recognize that we are honestly little more than acquaintances. I mean yes we know eachothers history, but bloody hell we hardly talk anymore about anything. We have no idea what the eachothers life is like... Well okay you know what mine is like due to how honestly shallow it is but I hardly know how yours is going. And quite frankly i dont know the questions to ask or the things to say to find out.... I just wish we were as close as we once were... Gods how id give almost anything just to be close friends again, romanctic thoughts aside. Now I see that our drift is just... This gaping raveen the size of the great cayon. And I know its only bound to get worse and eventually end altogether... With me going to college and you your own way with withever you decide to do, likely traveling with your beautiful, adventurous soul. I hope our paths interwine once more in the future... Odds are they wont but I mean you never know what God holds in store for us yeah? Ill always regret not getting the chance to experiance something more with you. Never really trying my hand at something more truly. I was a coward. Quite honestly in some ways though, im glad. You really deserve someone much better than I am. Someone who can make you happy, laugh, and feel joy every minute your with them like you have made me feel. Comfort you when you need help, be there for you when your in pain. These are things I've tried hard to do for you, but could never do perfectly. I really hope you meet a man who can do those things for you. You deserve it more than anyone else. Looking back, I can see that I was lucky that I even ever got to call you a friend. And I was smiled upon by god by the fact that you love(ed) me as a friend. That alone was really more than I had the right to ask for really. Thank you, for everything you have done for me. And helping me become who I am today. I only wish I could have helped you half as much as you have me... I love you, forever and always. And may god bless your life and the path you walk on my love.