#barely any simon content and then they throw down THIS. in the middle of an absolutes wildass ending...

[themyscirah]

Simon's flash forward of the future being Jess' first appearance... 🤵🏾‍♂️💍👰🏽‍♀️ anyone???

[gatorlovebot]

nsfw. mdni. just a snippet from my daily daydreams. ghoap x reader where simon and johnny are both mechanics. this is mostly just simon x reader though. heed the content warnings before reading.

cw: light piss play.

“finally got the heat in the truck fixed.” simon announced in lieu of a greeting as he stuck his head in your bedroom. he had been downstairs working on his truck in the shop since after dinner, leaving you upstairs alone. you felt bad not going with him to keep him company, but the shop gets too cold at night and simon ignores your pleas to turn he heat up for you.

you had curled yourself up in bed in a little nest to pass the time, waiting for them to come back to you for the night. you knew it wouldn’t have taken him long to fix the radiator in the truck, but you expected johnny home later into the night, out at the bar with his biker buddies.

“good job,” you praised from your spot on the bed, reaching down to pause your show on your laptop.

“wanna go for a ride?” johnny is much more social than either of you, so the two of you started taking late night drives in simon’s old truck on the nights johnny was out. it started with you sitting up against the passenger window, watching the fall colors under the glow from street lights. over time you made your way over to simon though, sitting in the middle seat of the bench, pressing yourself into his side, one of his big arms wrapped around you to keep you warm in the winter chill. you hadn’t been able to go for a drive in a few days with the heat being out, but you slide out from your little nest, feeling a buzz of energy at the prospect of quiet, alone time with simon.

you bundle yourself up in your boots and your jacket before making your way downstairs to the shop where simon is waiting for you in the truck. delicious heat envelopes you as soon as you open the door. a comfortable silence settles over the two of you as you make yourself comfortable against his side.

he pulls out of the garage and starts making familiar loops around the neighborhood. you take in the colorful chirstmas lights of the homes against the frost of the windows before simon starts turning onto back roads, leading you out of the city and onto tree lined dirt roads. he drives down and then pulls off into a clearing before turning to you for approval.

you take a quick glance around, not noticing any other cars or homes back in the tree line. “yeah, this is good.” you declare and then he’s opening up the driver’s side door and pulling you out with him. your boots crunch against the snowy ground as he opens the door to the back of the truck cab, guiding you in.

your knees have barely hit the cushions of the back seat before he’s on you. he’s like an animal, pawing at your jacket until he shucks it off of you and throws it to the floor and then he’s pulling your pants down to your bent knees, plastering himself to your back. he sucks bruises along your spine before roughly grabbing one cheek in each hand, pulling you a part, glistening cunt on display.

“si, it’s cold.” you whine, he’s still standing outside of the truck, door wide open allowing the freezing air to lick at your exposed skin. he huffs and grumbles, pushing your forward until your cheek rests against the back window when you hear the door slam shut and all you can feel is his big body around you. it’s in moments like these where you can’t help but shut your brain off as he pushes his cock into your aching cunt.

he’s like an animal, nails biting against your skin, thrusts pounding, groping just a little too hard at your plushness. but when he scrambles one of his big paws for hands against your clit you can't help but cry out at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. the friction of his calloused fingertips is perfect and the pressure makes you keen as you cream and pulse against his cock, milking his seed against your walls.

he settles against the seats, huffing out big breaths, as he pulls you against him. his touch is softer as he strokes his hands against your trembling body as you both come down from your highs.

eventually you untangle yourselves from each other, you put your coat back and your pants back from where they got twisted around your knees. you exit the cab through the back passenger door, simon going through the back driver’s side door. before you reach for the passenger door to get back in the front you come to an annoying realization. you let out a frustrated sigh.

“what?” simon questions, hand on the driver’s side door handle.

you think for a moment, knowing that you guys were miles in the woods and it would probably be another 20 minutes until you were back in the city. “i gotta pee,” you huff, “do you have a napkin or something in the truck?”

and when you turn to look at him all you get back is silence, he’s just looking at you over the other side of the hood of the truck. instead of asking again you just kneel down, pulling your pants back down around your knees. you grumble to yourself about how he can be such a weirdo sometimes before gathering the crotch of your pants in your hand so as to not get them wet. the cold air nips at your exposed thighs as you finally relax and try not to get your boots wet with your stream.

once finished you awkwardly try to shake your hips to dry yourself off. you straighten yourself back out, “simon-” before you can ask again about a napkin, he’s on you again. strong arm holding you against the truck door before squatting in front of you.

he surges forward, mouth on your dripping pussy before you can get another word out, his tongue dips between your folds, lapping up the mixture of your juices, his cum, and your piss. he sucks at your throbbing clit hard before pulling away entirely. he stands back up to his full height, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve. “all better.” he declares, gathering your pants back up and pulling them over your hips.

you feel dazed as he opens the door and herds you into the truck, getting you situated in the middle seat and even going as far as pulling the seatbelt across your lap and buckling you in. he shuts the door and you’re in awe as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side. most people would find it gross, what he had just done, but you were amazed by the intimacy of it all.

johnny would be so jealous of the both of you.

[bullet-prooflove]

I went for safety by choosing from an old prompt list. So, still with Juice, "I'm following the map that leads to you", please?

Btw, as you told me I could pop a few requests in, I might send another one for someone else. But I haven't decided who yet so we'll see tomorrow...

Canvas!Series:

Canvas - You've brought so much colour into Juice's life.

Follow Me - Your ex Ronnie realises you have a new boyfriend.

Runaway - Juice comes home to find you absent.

Goodbye - Juice recieves a phone call from you in the middle of the night.

Love Letter (feat: Filip 'Chibs' Telford) - Juice begins to spiral.

It’s Evelyn that gives Juice the map, the one with your location highlighted with a red felt tip heart. He keeps it in the passenger seat of the truck as he makes the drive up to Spring Creek in Nevada. It’s been almost a year since he last laid eyes on you, since you’d called him from a pay phone in a shitty motel in Carson City to say goodbye. He’d been up there a couple of times to find you but the trail had always gone cold, now he knows why.

You were an artist with barely two cents to rub together, you didn’t have the resources to vanish the way you did. He’d assumed you’d had help, he’d just never realised how close it was to home.

“Did Chibs know?” he’d asked Evelyn as he’d sat at the kitchen table in the home the two of them shared.

“Not until this morning.” She had told him as she set the mug of hot chocolate down in front of him. “Keeping the secret gave him plausible deniability.”

Which means it gave the club plausible deniability. If anyone discovered her complicity in a network that helped to spirit women and children away from abusive situations, being disbarred would be the least of her worries.

“You saw what it did to me, you knew…” He trails off bitterly, his eyes stinging.

He’d almost killed himself last year, shot himself up with so much dope, he’d woken up choking in a pool of his own vomit. He’d been lucky that time. It should have been a wake up call but it wasn’t.

“That’s why she sent the letter.” Evelyn explained to him. “She couldn’t stand the thought of you blaming yourself.”

It had taken him weeks to read it. By that point he’d gone so far down the rabbit hole he didn’t know which way was up. It was Chibs that saved him, that forced him to read the letter, to understand it wasn’t his fault that you’d left.

“Why now?” Juice asks her, gesturing to the map and Evelyn picks up the newspaper from the counter and tosses it onto the table in front of him.

3 Dead During DEA Drug Raid, the headline reads.

“Her ex, he’s one of them.” Evelyn tells him, tapping her finger on the article. “I’ve told her it’s safe to come home but…”

“…but she doesn’t know if she has anything to come back to.” Juice finishes as he leans back in his chair.

“A year is a long time Juan.” Evelyn reminds him. “As far as she knows you’ve moved on, got yourself another girl.”

“No.” He says resolutely as his gaze strays to the garden outside of the window. “I fucked around in the beginning but there’s never been anyone that comes close to Simone.”

Eight hours later Juice finds himself standing on the doorstep of a cabin in Spring Creek. It’s the first time in almost a year he’s felt hope.

Love Juice? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[nbrook29]

robbe 1️⃣8️⃣

Warning: This is smutty, proceed with caution if it’s not your jam ;)

ao3

If anybody asked Robbe, bad weather in the summer should be illegal. Because what the hell? He needs sun rays and blue sky like he needs oxygen, he wants 30+ degrees temperatures and not a single cloud above, and he always welcomes it with all the small inconveniences it brings along, like clammy skin mere minutes after showering or freckles covering his nose and arms. So when it’s August and it’s raining, sorry, pouring buckets, sue him if he turns into a whiny mess for a bit. That’s just who he is.

Or, that’s who he was. Because right now, lying on a soft cloud-like throw blanket in a not-his t-shirt and sweatpants, head a mess of wild damp curls, fuzzy socks on his feet tangled with another pair, he’s feeling pretty good.

Even though the original scenario for his birthday was supposed to be different.

It all started at 12:00 am sharp with a dorky text from Sander because of course it did.

Sander: Hey there you sexy thing

Heard you're legal now 👅 

Robbe: Omg sander 🙈 

Sander: Yes, that's what you'll be screaming today during our own little celebration 😈

 Robbe almost spat out the water he was drinking, face burning hot as he tried to assess whether anybody was paying him any attention.

 Robbe: SHSHDHSHSJSJS STOP 

Sander: I'll do that thing you like 😏👅 

Robbe: IM WITH MY PARENTS DICKHEAD 

Sander: Am I bothering you cutie? 😏 

Robbe: Yessssss 😩 my face is all red they're gonna know what's up 

Sander: I think *I* know what is up 😏🍆 

Robbe: 🤣 GO COOL OFF 

Sander: Hehe

No but for real now

Happy birthday! 🥰🥳😘❤🎂

I love you SO much ❤❤❤💯 

Robbe: Thank youuuu baby 😊😘 

Sander: Can't believe you're an adult *wipes a tear*

You'll always be my baby tho ❤ 

Robbe: Haha yes ❤❤ 

Sander: I'll be waiting for you at 4 pm 

Robbe: But where?? 

Sander: 😌 

Robbe: Sanderrr tell me 

Sander: Nope 

Goodnight 😌

 Sander absolutely loves to tease him and keep him at the edge of the seat which is why he told him the place only half an hour before their meeting, for which Robbe intended to tell him off. That is until he actually got to Park Spoor Noord and saw his boyfriend lounging on grass, blanket underneath him, surrounded by Robbe’s favorite food and wearing the most charming smile as soon as their eyes met.

And he got him a sunflower. A sunflower. How cute is that?

Needless to say, there was no telling off, Robbe didn’t exactly find time for it between kisses and laughs and Sander feeding him croques and fries and cupcakes (which Sander baked and decorated himself, swearing for dear life the small thingies made from frosting on top were not dicks, but Robbe knows him too well to believe him).

And then all hell broke loose and the storm that had been loudly talked about in the media came to Antwerp and made a puddle out of the two of them.

They looked really miserable, but somehow Robbe couldn’t care less as they were running to Sander’s house holding hands, water in their shoes, the sunflower cradled carefully underneath his shirt, huge smiles on their faces as they finally got there, tripping in their haste to get inside.

The hot shower that followed next and Sander taking the lead oh so well will definitely rank in the top 5 moments of Robbe’s life. He’s very grateful Sander’s parents are on holiday in London because he’s not sure he’d ever be able to look them in the eyes otherwise.

Afterwards, Sander made them ice coffee and handed Robbe his real gift which turned out to be a long weekend in Paris a week from now, shutting him up with a kiss when Robbe was about to protest and complain about it being too expensive.

Since the concert they were supposed to go to was canceled due to poor weather conditions, they resorted to eating cake in Sander’s bed and watching the show Robbe had been talking about for weeks now. Sander, being the thoughtful and amazing boyfriend that he is, graciously agreed to Robbe’s birthday wish and sat him down between his legs, kissed the side of his face, brought his laptop closer and pressed play, as Robbe made himself comfy in his arms, the smile that originated at midnight not slipping off even for a second.

***

Another thunder strikes the night sky and Robbe jumps involuntarily, only a little, more from shock than actual fear, but it doesn’t stop Sander from tightening his arms around him, lips grazing delicately the lobe of his ear.

“Don’t worry, Robin, I will protect you,” he whispers with a teasing note in his voice, grunting when a well-aimed elbow meets his side.

“Shut up, I’m not scared.”

Sander’s only reply is a low chuckle and a kiss on that sweet spot under Robbe’s ear that never fails to send a shiver down his spine. Without barely having to move at all considering how close they are, he tilts his head and noses along Sander’s defined jaw, leaving a peck or two on his cheek.

“Now shush, I can’t focus.” He unceremoniously turns away from Sander’s searching lips, a sly grin on his face when he hears an affronted huff.

“Oh I see how it is, you-”

“Shhhh, Wille is talking.”

Robbe loves to be a little shit sometimes, especially if he wants to get a certain reaction from his huffy other half.

“Look how cute he is.” He has to press his lips hard to keep the giggle in when Sander whines in protest.

“Stoooop, why are you being mean to me.” He now has a full-blown pout on his face. “Jerk.”

The laughter finally comes out and Robbe pauses the show, cooing at Sander’s little frowny face and brushing the runaway strands away from his forehead, leaning up to press a kiss there too.

“It’s okay, I still think you’re the cutest prince in the entire kingdom.” He runs a thumb over his jutting lower lip, kissing it once, twice, three times, until the corners of Sander’s mouth pull up.

“Whatever. Simon is cuter than the other one anyway.”

Robbe grins cheekily. “You just think that because he has curly hair like me.” Sander’s jaw drops at that.

“Wow,” he exclaims, voice faux-scandalous as he shakes his head at Robbe. “Someone’s cocky today.” 

“It’s my birthday so it’s allowed.” Winking at him obnoxiously, he turns back to the screen, hands reaching for Sander’s arms to wrap them around himself again as he settles in his embrace with a content sigh before pressing play.

Sander’s quiet behind him for a second, and then his lips touch his ear again, tongue slightly peeking out to play and lick the shell of his ear with just the tip, hot air hitting Robbe’s skin turning his insides into mush, butchering his focus again just as Sander purrs, “I think it’s hot when you’re like that.”

There’s something important happening on screen, but Robbe can’t make any sense of the subtitles because Sander’s lips continue their path down the column of his throat, stopping for a second to suck a kiss in the middle, killing any rational thought Robbe might have had. His hand rushes to Sander’s head to keep him there without his permission, eyes closing as he sighs when the kiss turns into licks and nips to the thin skin.

“Do you think he could kiss you and touch you like that?”

The question breaks the fog in Robbe’s brain for a second, and he barks a laugh at the slight possessiveness in Sander’s voice that’s poorly hidden under a joking tone. 

“Like what?” He presses, excitement bubbling in his stomach when one of Sander’s hands sneaks underneath his t-shirt, fingers grazing the skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake as they finally reach the place Robbe needs them most. 

“Like that.” He flicks his nipple with those black-polish covered nails of his that make him look so hot Robbe’s head spins. “For starters.” He keeps it up, tugging and pinching unhurriedly, with a dirty smirk growing on his face that Robbe can just feel on his collarbone, and he pulls on his hair as he arches his back a little, seeking more of those skillful fingers.

With his hooded eyes, he can see Sander closing the laptop and putting it away quickly before his other hand joins in the fun, a featherlight touch to the growing bulge in his sweatpants, nothing more than teasing for now.

When Sander’s teeth tug at his earring, Robbe lets out a frustrated whine because it’s too much and not enough at the same time, and his boyfriend reads him like a book because he pulls the t-shirt off him to gain full access, mouth latching on his neglected nipple just as his hand dives inside his pants. It doesn’t grant him any relief though, bypassing his dick completely and traveling lower, caressing the soft skin, one finger running back and forth without reaching any further, and Robbe grabs Sander’s thigh in desperation.

“Sander...”

“You didn’t answer me,” Sander whispers in a sweet sweet voice.

“Whaa?” It takes a second for Robbe to understand what he’s asking and he would laugh if his body wasn’t on fire, Sander playing him like a violin.

Also, this playful possessiveness is getting to him, whether he likes it or not.

He does though. Like it.

Oh fuck, he likes it so much.

“Tell me, baby,” Sander breathes into his mouth as he reaches for something Robbe doesn’t see, and he can hear in his voice how it affects him too, can feel him against his lower back, rubbing himself off with minuscule moves, clearly struggling to hold back. 

“You, just you-, fuuuuck,” Robbe’s cut off when two lubed fingers press inside him at the confession, back arching slightly, the feeling so intense he keens and searches blindly for Sander’s lips. Thankfully, Sander doesn’t waste any time and plunges his tongue inside his mouth, swallowing the little whines that escape them with each twist of his fingers.

The rocking behind him gets faster and this is not how Robbe wants this to end so he breaks the kiss, ignoring Sander’s protests as he pulls away from him, only to pull his pants off completely, green eyes following his every move like he’s ready to pounce, and the need inside Robbe’s stomach only grows. He tugs impatiently at Sander’s sweatpants, biting his lip when his hard cock slaps his abdomen, the smirk dancing on Sander’s lips at his reaction liquefying his insides and he crawls closer to him, needing his touch to ground him. 

“You’re still good to go?” He loves how even when it’s hot and heavy Sander still remembers to check in with him.

“Uh-huh,” is the only thing he can come up with now, especially when Sander’s hand settles on his hip bringing them so close there’s no space left between them, guiding his movements just like Robbe likes. He kisses his glistening neck, licking the sweat of his body as Robbe reaches behind to position his slick cock at his entrance, forehead resting against Sander’s as he sinks down fast.

He gasps at the feeling of fullness because it’s always a lot, but Sander’s hands are always there, brushing his sides in a comforting motion, even when his own body is probably screaming at him to move.

“Happy birthday to me,” Robbe lets out a shaky chuckle that ends up in a gasp when Sander laughs too and involuntarily moves inside him. He’s quick to lick into his lips and distract him from the momentary discomfort, and once he’s done with him, the overwhelming need is back double force. 

Sander notices right away, guiding Robbe’s hips to keep grinding for a while before planting his feet on the bed and holding them in place giving several hard jabs that make Robbe hide his face in his neck, cries leaving his mouth with each thrust.

“Like that?”

Robbe just nods helplessly, mouth leaving a wet trail on his skin, but Sander doesn’t seem to mind because he continues his pace, completely taking over once Robbe’s thighs give out and turning him into a mess.

“You’re so hot like this, fuck.” The strain in Sander’s voice tells him he’s getting close so he goes back to bouncing, meeting him in the middle, and it only takes a minute for things to become too much, Sander’s uncoordinated jerks when he’s coming triggering Robbe’s orgasm too.

They stay like that, cooling off while kissing lazily, tongues sliding against each other, but without a rush for now.

Sander pulls back first, their lips smacking when they disconnect. "I'm sorry today didn't work out." Scrunching up his face, he reaches to comb through Robbe's hair consolingly. He leans into the touch before cuddling even closer, seeking warmth when the cold air makes goosebumps appear on his heated skin.

"But I loved today, really. We can go to a concert another time." He kisses the underside of his jaw, sighing dreamily. "And I can't wait for Paris with you."

[ofcowardiceandkings]

I think you mentioned listening to podcasts? Do you have any favorites to reccommend? I've run out of content :(

that i do !

im not entirely sure what kind of podcast you'd be interested in but i'll throw out a few of the goodies in my huge library of stuff , i'll miss out a few of the HUGE podcasts that have been all over tumblr though

a LOT of it is true crime or human interest stuff , or history because im nerd ,, and a few of these dont have nearly enough attention so [shrug] i'll try to keep this short i guess lol this isnt EVERYTHING ive got in my library or listened series' by any measure

i AM gonna pop a shout to both Stuff You Missed in History Class and Stuff You Should Know from iHeartRadio because their HUGE archives have kept me from losing my mind many times over , and they cover a wide range of both important and wacky topics

BomBARDed (ongoing) this is the only fiction podcast i have happening right now really but its DAMN GOOD ONE .... it's an actual-play D&D 5E podcast in the DMs own musically-inspired world, focussed on a group of multiclass bards going to music school !! and all players (+DM) are members of the Texas band Lindby !! and they actually use and play music in the show with one original song an episode !! Kyle's worldbuilding and storycraft are truly incredible, and (Nick) Goodrich, (also Nick) Spurrier, and Ali's characters are in depth and interesting as well as an absolute powerhouse :') i actually made a piece for its first fanzine, Bardic Dreaming, which published earlier this year and is free to view now, all the players and the community are super wholesome its just very good overall 💙

History & Humans;

Fall of Civilisations (ongoing) legit one of my favourite podcast finds, im so glad my youtube autoplayed one of these ... it took me like 2 hours to realise it was 1) not the same as what was playing before and 2) had been on for 2 hours and wasnt near finished lmao. anyway, this is a series by historical fiction writer Paul Cooper, and is honest to all thats good one of the best documentary series ive encountered in years - and ive consumed a LOT of documentaries. it covered the downfall of various civilisations through history, and the episodes run from an hour to FOUR hours depending on the topic. its so chill to listen to and just get done, but over the pandemic all of the episodes have been given full movie-quality video versions too on youtube if youre more of a visual person.

Casting Lots: A Survival Cannibalism Podcast (on series break) yeah that says that lol ... its a SUPER niche topic but its very interesting and treated very well despite being kind of comical at times, the hosts are just naturally funny lol ... it delves around from the history of cannibalism in whole regions to specific incidents as recently as the 1970s, and of course the first episode is about the Donner Party, and it covers things ive never heard of despite being kind of important ?? anyway Alix and Carmella are good eggs

Sawbones (ongoing) i probably dont need to mention much here other than say that Justin and Sydnee saved me from being SO BORED sooo often, the history of medicine is wacky as hell and its what most of my history GCSE was on so [shrugs]

Cautionary Tales (on series break) this was a wild-card find lol ... it's by Tim Harford "the undercover economist" who writes for the Financial Times, and its topics kind of weave modern topics and science with how to learn from historical errors ... its a bit weird but well worth a go, also each series has a few celebrity guest voice actors which is pretty awesome

Ephemeral (ongoing) this is a very strange but thought provoking series about sounds and other things just barely saved. topics include the last castrato, the hello girls, hand-stamped records, the spread of kīkā kila music, and acoustic fossils of wild places.

Neat! The Boozecast (ongoing) history and bartending whats not to like lol ... hosted by Teylor Smirl and now their dad Tommy, they're just digging around in how important booze is to human culture

True Crime (white collar and weirdness);

Swindled (ongoing) this is an amazing show full stop. A Concerned Citizen details some of the most impactful and unruly things to happen in white collar and corporate crime. very factually accurate but given the sheer bullshit of the topics the deadpan snarking is [chefs kiss] absolutely warranted ..

American Scandal (on series break) this one is a series within a series type, and spends a few episodes at a time poking holes in some of America's biggest scandals, from a dramatised but fact-based point of view. such as what the hell was going on with Enron, how big tobacco was forced to own up to covering its own ass, how Iran-Contra happened, etc. it also now has a sister show called British Scandal, which does the same thing for British cases but with a slightly different format.

Missing in Alaska (finished) this was a fascinating series, a deep dive into what happened to two US government officials who disappeared on a small chartered flight in Alaska in 1972. it goes some really strange places, but it actually turned up a lot of previously unknown information through the audience. John Walczak's new series in a new feed is Missing on 9/11 which looks into what happened to Dr Sneha Philip.

Pretend (ongoing) Host Javier Leiva holds interviews with anyone living a lie, or who have been touched by them. con artists, snake oil salesmen, former cult members, catfishing victims, anyone and everyone.

Power: The Maxwells (finished) hosted by journalist Tara Palmeri, the story of media tycoon Robert Maxwell from nothing to empire to mysterious death and the scandals uncovered after he was gone.

Lets Talk About Sects (ongoing) Sarah Steele covering cults from around the world, in particular those in Australia - where she is from. She often has former members on the show to share their stories, and share knowledge of how they left. each story has the relevant content warnings at the start of each episode.

Brainwashed (finished) investigation of the CIA's covert mind control experiments, centred on the experiments performed at a hospital in Montreal, and its cultural impact.

Dr Death (2 series finished) two series investigating huge cases of fraud and medical malpractice, and how they were brought to a stop. series 1 covers Dr Duntsch and his horribly butchered neurosurgery, series 2 covers Dr Fata and his fraudulent cancer clinic

The Immaculate Deception (finished) untangling the weird and disturbing fertility fraud of Dr Jan Karbaat, who fathered children himself through his fertility clinic, and the impact of his deception. later episodes also touch on other similar cases.

True Crime (Violent/General);

The Casual Criminalist (ongoing) Simon Whistler of-the-many-youtube-channels cold reads a script about the case of the day, with some of his daft commentary thrown in.

Southern Fried True Crime (ongoing) Crimes from the American South hosted by Erica Kelley, she puts all the facts out there but refreshingly for true crime she doesnt hesitate to tell you if she thinks someone is human garbage lol

They Walk Among Us (ongoing) probably one of the most popular UK crime podcasts, very measured and well put together, not weird or annoying about it either.

All Crime No Cattle (ongoing, feed slowed down for now) specifically about crimes from Texas, hosted by Erin and Shay, they're very sensitive hosts and a lot of the cases they cover shed light on why the Texas criminal system is how it is or show an impact at a national level

Canadian True Crime (ongoing) Canadian crime from an Aussie who's lived there for a decade, Kristi is again a sensitive and measured host covering some important topics

True Crime (Violent/Deep Dive);

Hitman (finished) journalist Jasmyn Morris digs around in the sticky tangle around a book published by fringe publisher Paladin Press, and its apparent use as a blueprint in the killing of a mother, her friend and her 8 year old boy for financial gain.

Camp Hell: Anneewakee (ongoing) this series is exploring how a wilderness camp "correctional facility" was endorsed by the Georgia care and juvenile reform system, despite widespread abuses and shady practices the whole time. warning for csa and child cruelty throughout.

True Crime Bullshit (on series break) this one is a huge huge rabbithole but a very interesting one where the host Josh Hallmark has spent years digging into the life and potential crimes of Israel Keyes. Keyes is often mentioned as a serial killer with no pattern, but in picking it apart thats not quite true, and has sparked some re-evaluations of missing persons cases and stumbling upon information the FBI has redacted organically. there's also a series in the middle looking into the crimes of Kelly Cochran

Forgotten: Women of Juárez (finished) this series looks into the huge numbers of missing women of Ciudad Juárez, the strange circumstances surrounding them, and the potential cover-ups and corruptions on both sides of the border, trying to give a voice to all of the forgotten women and girls and their families without answers. the series itself is finished, but a spanish language edition is being released every week now.

aaaaaand i'll call it there before i list everything lol, i hope you find something to plug your boredom hole with !!

[accio-that-gay-shit]

Locked in Love || Snowbaz Oneshot

Heyo! Theo here. I write all my one shots on Wattpad usually, but now I'm copying and pasting them here! Here’s one of my snowbaz ones! Enjoy! 

Watford is under attack and Simon trues to help. Unfortunately, he accidentally locks him and Baz in their dorm together

Simon had been laying on his bed for a short while, alone in his shared room. He'd been staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his mind. None were interesting enough to hold onto, until the thought of Baz came up. He used a hand to brush though his curls as he wondered why Baz had been gone for those two months, what on Earth he could have been plotting...

Baz rubbed the back of his neck as he stared himself in the mirror. (of course he could see himself. Those were just myths that he couldn't) he was a bit disgusted at how sickly he looked. Who knew that being in a coffin for so long did that to you? He shook his head and walked back to their shared dorm, opening the door and sitting on his bed. He stared at a wall, lost in thoughts

Simon looked at Baz as he walked towards his bed and sat, heavily debating saying something to break the familiar silence between them. He cleared his throat. "Your mother visited me while you were away." he mumbled, barely audible.

Baz looked at Simon. "My mother- what? Why did she visit you?" He said starting to feel annoyed. While Baz was out, getting kidnapped but numpties of all things, his mother visited Simon. And not him.

Simon cleared his throat. "Well, while you were away, your mother came through the veil. She was hoping you'd be here, because you always are, but you were too busy plotting or whatever to be in school. So she talked to me instead." he informed Baz, not giving the whole truth because he still thought he should talk to The Mage first.

"I wasn't plotting Snow. You seriously think I'd miss two months of school for that? Uh no thank you" Baz growled. "But back to the topic of my mother, what did she say? What did she want?" He was still upset that he missed the chance of a lifetime to see his mother.

Simon bit his lip and tapped his foot on the floor anxiously. "She..." he couldn't keep the full story from him, not anymore. "She told me... Your mother wants you to find her killer." he started. "She said something about a Nicodemus, I believe.”

"But the vampires killed her." Baz looked at him. "And who the fuck is Nicodemus?" He asked Simon. He didn't know why his mother said these things. It didn't make sense to him.

Simon shrugged. "I'm just the messenger, I haven't a clue who Nicodemus is. All I know is that your mother said he knows who the killer is." he was trying his best, he even went to the library and looked for anything with the name, but still got nothing.

Baz sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think if the name was familiar in anyway. But he couldn't remember anything. "But I thought it was the vampires... Everyone thought that.. everyone still thinks that, right?" Baz mumbled to himself

Simon chimed into Baz's mumbling. "Well, yes. They say the Humdrum sent them to attack the school." he said. He pondered the idea for a moment. That was the first and only time anyone's ever been killed at the school.

Baz nods "yes... So how can I find the killer if I already know it's the humdrum.... Unless... It wasn't.... Maybe it was someone else..." He said quietly, staring off into space

Simon's eyebrows furrowed. "Someone else? Who else could it be? Who else would bring vampires into the school?" he asked, wondering what Baz was thinking.

Baz bit his lip and shook his head. "I don't know.. I can't think of anyone who'd have a reason to.."

Simon shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, me neither. Did your mother have anyone who had something against her? Any enemies?" Simon asked.

"i-i don't know .. I was so young when she- …when they came..." Baz mumbled, shaking his head

Simon frowned. You'd think seeing Baz like this would make him smile because of the whole 'enemies' thing but it just made him upset. He stood up and put a hand on Baz's shoulder, looking down at him. "Hey, you don't have to think about that now. I'll talk to Penny, she can help us figure this out. For now, just don't worry about it." he said softly.

Baz looked up at him. "You will..?" He looked into his eyes. "Thanks..." He said quietly as he looked down once more. He didn't even know why Simon was agreeing to help him. It made no sense in his mind

Simon kept his hand on Baz's shoulder. "No need to thank me." he smiled softly. Of course he was going to do all he could to help, Baz's mother deserved justice and the monster who set up her murder deserved whatever they got.

Baz looked back at Simon. He smiled a little and nodded slightly. He still didn't know why Simon was helping, but he appreciated it . He really did.

Simon moves away after a short moment of content silence. "We should get some rest, figure this out tomorrow." he said. He was quite worried about Baz's health, he looked like a corpse, so thin and gray. Baz was always gray, just not this pale.

Baz nods. "Yeah.. you're probably right..." He wiped under his eyes. "And Snow? I really appreciate this.. your help I mean.." he said quietly, looking down

Simon nodded his head. "Yeah, of course. You mother did tell all this to me after all." he said. That wasn't really why he was helping Baz. Simon would've helped even if Baz's mother came to Baz himself.

Baz nodded. "Right.. yeah that makes sense.." he gave a small little smile before he closed his eyes, to attempt sleep. He never would've thought that Simon Snow would help him with literally anything. But, here he was. And Baz was grateful for that

Simon didn't say anything after that. He smiled before letting the exhaustion of those late nights searching for Baz catch up to him. He simply closed his eyes, passing out almost instantly into a deep sleep.

Baz laid awake for a couple of minutes before falling asleep quickly due to stress from recent events. It all was dropped on him out of nowhere. Thankfully, he was able to sleep despite the cluttered events and thoughts

Simon woke up to the rays of sunlight that peeked in from behind the curtain. He opened his eyes and yawned before sitting up to stretch.

Baz awoke and immediately pulled the covers over his head. The bright rays of sunshine were a bit blinding. Sunlight didn't actually hurt vampires as much as people thought, but Baz was not a morning person

Simon rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He didn't care what Penny said, he didn't want a haircut. He walked over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for the day.

Baz groaned quietly as he realized that he'd have to get up at some point. He sat up slowly and looked around. He didn't stand up yet and glanced at the bathroom where Simon was. He shook his head and slowly stood up

Simon was brushing his teeth when he looked in the mirror to see Baz was awake. Normally the two wouldn't interact at all, especially in their room in the morning, but now they had to get to finding whoever killed Baz's mother. He finished up whatever he was doing and walked out to the actual room.

Baz looked at Simon once more. But before a few moments he looked away and walked into the bathroom to get ready. Simon went to his wardrobe and picked out his clothes, the same clothes he wore every day. He started to dress while Baz was in the bathroom. Baz had quickly got dressed while he was in the bathroom. Afterwards, he brushed his teeth and looked at himself in the mirror. He hated how sickly he looked. He sighed and left the bathroom

As Simon buttoned his shirt, he felt the floor beneath him shake slightly. Odd, they never got any earthquakes here. It shook again, more violently this time, throwing a few things to the floor. Simon reached for his sword.

Baz stopped and glanced around, slowly grabbing his wand from his back pocket. He looked at Simon, a little curious to see if he knew what was going on

Simon looked back at Baz and shrugged. He made his way over to the window to see if anything was going on out there. And there was. Everyone was holding onto something, but no one could tell what was making the ground shake.

Baz walked up behind Simon and glanced out the window before stepping back a little. "Do you think it might just be a regular earthquake?" Baz asked quietly, although he doubted that to be true

Simon thought that's might be it, but it was weird. "I don't think so," he said, turning his head away from the window and towards Baz. "There's never been an earthquake here, I'm pretty sure the place is spelled against it." he turned back to the window to investigate.

Baz nodded, as that was what he assumed as well. He glanced out the window once more, before glancing around the room. "and you don't see anything suspicious..?" He asked quietly and curiously

Simon shook his head. "I'm looking. It looks like it's coming from the middle of the field over there but, there's nothing there. Maybe it's invisible." he said. He could feel his magic building up inside him. Baz nodded and glanced over at the field, but didn't see anything. He gripped his wand, bracing for the worst.

Simon tried to figure out what he could do. Maybe he could just lock everything in place so it would stop shaking, then maybe whatever it was would go away.

Baz looked around once more, standing still. He had a feeling that whatever was making everything shake, wasn't here to make friends. It was probably here to do quite the opposite

Simon turned to Baz for a second. "I'm gonna try something." he said before turning back to the window. He focused all of his magic on their surroundings, thinking about locking everything in place so it wouldn't shake.

Baz looked back at him, wondering what he was going to do. "Snow, what are you going to do…?" He asked quietly with a slight tone of concern in his voice

Simon kept his focus while talking. "I'm just going to stop everything from moving. Maybe whatever it is will go away when it sees nothing moving anymore." he answered.

Baz bit his lip lightly, wondering if this was a good idea. He eventually shrugged it off and figured Simon couldn't do anything to make it much worse, right?

Simon closed his eyes, keeping in mind exactly what he wanted to do. He pushed out his magic until he felt it was enough, then he opened his eyes and stopped.

Baz looked around. Nothing seemed, different. "Congratulations Snow, I think you successfully didn't blow anything up.." Baz muttered sarcastically, though hoping it was true. Everything stopped shaking and it seemed like whatever it was left.

Simon turned around and looked at Baz with an annoyed look on his face. "Very funny, Baz." he said with a sarcastic laugh. He closed the window and went to finish getting dressed. Baz just shrugged with a small smirk. He put his wand back up before finishing getting ready. He wondered if he could skip breakfast to feed in the catacombs, as he didn't do it last night. But he assumed that Simon would be too suspicious, so he decided against it

Simon finished up quickly, he usually liked to be out the door before Baz rolled out of bed. He reached to pull the door open and it didn't budge. He tried again, pulling harder this time. Baz watched as Simon struggled. He had finished up so he walked a little closer to him but not much

"What're you doing? Did you use too much magic where it weakened your strength or something?" Baz teased, as he tried to think of a logical way of why the door wouldn't open. Simon looked at Baz with an annoyed expression on his face.

"What? No. It just won't open." he said, tugging on the doorknob again. What the hell happened?

Baz rolled his eyes as he walked up behind Simon. "Here, let me try" he stepped up and tried to open the door. His face changed into one of annoyance and aggravation as he tried to force it open once more. "That's weird.." he muttered to himself. He pulled out his wand and pointed it to the door. "Open sesame!" He tried, but nothing happened. He tries the spell again, but still nothing.

Simon looked at the door anxiously. This was most definitely his fault, and he thought Baz might kill him for it. "Let me try it." he said. His magic was stronger, though he couldn't exactly control it too well. He thought maybe because it was him to did this, it had to be him to undo it. Some spells are like that. Baz looked at him and nodded slightly. Of course this was his fault, well at least it's better then being blown up..? He stepped back a little, to allow Snow to try to open it.

Simon channeled a small amount of magic, focused on the door, and cast 'open sesame' on the door. He walked over to it and turned the knob, or at least tried to. Still, nothing happened. He kicked the door, hoping it'd just fly open or something.

Baz rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because kicking the door will do so much more then magic will" he mumbled sarcastically under his breath, before running a hand through his hair and pulling it, slightly frustrated. He sat back on his bed and stared into space, wondering how to get out.

Simon mocked Baz once he knew he wasn't looking at him anymore. He leaned against the door and let himself slide down onto the floor as he thought about what else he could do. Maybe he had to use more magic to open it up. But he didn't want to risk messing up again. Baz laid backwards on his bed and closed his eyes . He doubted that they'd be out of there anytime soon, so why not just relax a little longer? So what if Snow was in the same room, it didn't mean that they had to talk. They ignored each other for the most part all the time. Simon cursed the rule of no electronics, he could really use some sort of distraction. He knew they'd be in there for a while, and he had no problem ignoring Baz when they could freely leave, but now they were going to be stuck there until the door somehow opened.

Baz sighed. He could've done his homework, but he had already finished it. He could've read, but he had finished most of his books. He could've talked to snow, but they hated each other's guts.

Simon straightened out his legs, crossing one over the other, and started fidgeting a bit. The silence was so horrible. Maybe, just maybe, he could talk to Baz, and maybe, just maybe, they might not have to hate each other so much anymore. Simon wasn't one to like having an enemy.

Baz bit his lip. The awkward tenseness was overwhelming. But he couldn't just, say something. Could he? No, he couldn't. He’d just get looked at like he was stupid.

Simon looked at the floor, under his bed, trying to space out so this would be less awkward. It didn't work. He sighed quietly. Baz wouldn't start a conversation, so he had to. "I don't want to hate you." he said, kind of awkwardly.

Baz looked up at him, not sure if he had heard him right. "What?" He asked quietly as his mind swarmed with thoughts. If snow didn't want to hate him then maybe he had a chance- no. Snow was straight. And he probably still liked Agatha.

Simon stood up. "I don't want to hate you," he repeated himself. "I don't want to have you as an enemy." he added on. In all honesty, Simon thought he and Baz would stop their bickering and become friends when they were still young. That never happened, so he took a chance now. He always wanted to be friends with a vampire, even if they did scare him half to death.

Baz sat up, but still sitting on his bed. He looked up at Simon. "I don't want to hate you either.. I don't want to have to fight you in this war.." he said quietly. "But the mage... And my family.. they can't stand each other.. "

Simon walked over to his own bed and sat down, crisscrossing his legs like a child as he faced Baz. "I know. But, we are not our families. I know they don't get along but that doesn't mean we have to be like that too." he said, trying to reason with the circumstance. One less enemy would be nice. One more friend would be even nicer.

Baz nodded. "But what would they say if they knew?" He asked looking at his as he ran a hand through his dark hair. He doubted his family would be happy if they knew. Simon frowned. He hadn't thought about that. He doesn't do much thinking.

"I can't say the mage would be very happy about it, but he can't just tell me not to be your friend. He wouldn't do that. He's not a bad guy." he said. But what would Baz's family say? Could they tell Baz not to be friends with Simon? Did they even have to know?

Baz raised his brows about Simon saying the mage wasn't a bad guy. Now was not the time to argue about that. "Maybe..." He said "maybe we don't have to tell them.. my parents I mean.. just-just in case.. "

"Really?" Simon smiled a bit. "But, you have to promise not to try and kill me again." he said, pointing an accusing finger at Baz.

Baz laughed. "To be fair I was just trying to scare you with the Chimera" he smirked a little. "But, fine. I promise that i won't try to kill you"

Simon looked at Baz skeptically, then softening his expression. He nodded his head before speaking again. "Can I just ask why you didn't like me in the first place?" he asked him.

"well my family hates the mage, and you're basically his heir. " Baz said with a small shrug as he looked at Simon

Simon frowned. "Yeah, but, we were just kids Baz. We didn't care about that stuff at age eleven." he said. At least, he didn't. He didn't really know anything about Baz's childhood.

Baz nodded. "True.. but I guess when I was younger my family just talked a bunch of crap about you and the mage, and it kind of fed into my head. My family probably wouldn't have been proud if I made friends with you, and I didn't want to disappoint them. So I pretended to hate you" he said

Simon looked at Baz. Did he hear that correctly? "Pretended to hate me? Are you telling me you didn't actually hate me?!" he put a lot of emphasis on the word 'pretended'.

Baz could feel his face heat up. If he could, he would be blushing furiously right now. Of course he pretended. He just didn't mean to say it out loud. It slipped out . "I- I didn't mean to say that, it slipped out. Ignore that. " He said quietly and awkwardly. He couldn't imagine how much Simon would tease him if he knew that he was hopelessly in love with him...

Simon blinked out. Baz was stuttering, which meant there was something he wasn't telling him. He was determined to find out what that was. "No, no you said 'pretended'. Why did you pretend? It can't just be your family, they wouldn't know what you did while away from home." he said. He was curious as to what Baz wasn't telling him.

Baz bit his lip lightly. There goes the only card he had. "I-its nothing Snow. I have my reasons.." he said quietly as he avoided eye contact.

Simon grinned. There was definitely something he was trying to hide. "come on Baz! Tell me..." He whined and Baz look at him with a raised brow.

"You're acting like a child."

"Just tell me!"

Baz sighed. "Fine. I technically didn't hate you. But I hated that I didn't hate you. But who could?! Simon, you're the chosen one! The quirky Watford boy whom everyone loves! And I'm- I'm just, not."

Simon looked at him with a frown. He wanted Baz to stop saying these hurtful things about himself. So he did the first thing he could think of. He walked over to Baz and lifted his chin up. He pressed his lips against Baz's. He expected Baz to push him away, but instead he kissed back.

Baz pulled away. "Snow..."

"You called me Simon before,"

"Did not."

Simon raised a brow and Baz sighed. "Simon, why- why did you kiss me..?"

"Why did you kiss back?"

"Because I love you, Simon Snow."

~

A reminder that this was made m o n t h s ago before my writing improved, so it’s not that well-written. 

[breaking-shadows]

Breaking Shadows

Chapter 2

The angel left promising he would return soon. He left me alone, with my grandmother very much alive and her soul intact. 

I looked at the cuckoo clock mounted on the wall. It had been intricately carved to tell the story of Hansel and Gretel. Creepy, for a witch. The devious children who ate a witch out of house and home and then murdered her for all her generosity. 

The hands read nearly four-fifteen. 

I imagined sinking into the soft mattress of my bed and curling up in the duvet, but if that happened, I’d be there for the duration. I fell asleep on the sofa, wrapped in a dressing gown, to the low hum of the TV. 

The light of breaking dawn woke me before half six.

“Officers attended the scene in Cullfield, a suburb of New York City...”

I peeled open an eyelid. The TV continued to play to itself, showing American-looking police standing by a strip of bright yellow tape. 

“...the whole town was found massacred in what eyewitnesses have described as a bloodbath.”

Bolting upright, I grappled for the remote to turn the volume up, heart hammering against my ribcage. 

“Police have appealed for witnesses and urge neighbouring towns to be vigilant. We’ll have more on this breaking story as the information comes through. Now, here’s the news wherever you are.” The opening credits rolled for the local news. 

Footsteps sounded on the floorboards above. Gran was up. She must be feeling better. I switched off the TV and raced upstairs. 

“Gran!” I called. “Gran!”

I caught her leaving my room, eyes puffy and red-ringed, skin grey. The soft grey curls framing her face were wild. She gave a gasp, sucking the air from the room and fell back against the door. 

My feet stalled on the top step. “Are you okay?”

Her mouth bobbed struggling to form words that wouldn’t come. 

“Gran?” 

“Oh my – Riley!” she crossed the few steps between us and wrapped me in her arms, the scent of lavender triggering a dormant headache. One of her hands went to my hair, pulling my head towards her shoulder. Over and over she whispered my name.

Then she pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length. Withered hands cupped my face, her thumbs making downward strokes with her thumbs. She laughed through her tears. 

“What did you want me for?”

“Are we not going to talk about this?”

Gran released my face to wipe her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, sniffing away the tears as though they’d never been. “There’s nothing to talk about, Riley. I’m  tired, I must not have recovered as much as I’d thought.”

I wanted to tell her she’d be fine, that the illness wouldn’t be rearing its ugly head again, but then she’d want to know why. Even I wasn’t proud about how I’d gone about it, but seeing Gran like this again, well enough to be on her feet or nearly tumbling from them… I’d made the right choice. 

“Once more then, what did you want me for?”

What did I want her for? “The news. On the news, there’s something about a massacre in a town on the outskirts of New York. From the sounds of it, it seems like the whole town. I didn’t know if it merited checking out. It could be a coven.”

Gran looked thoughtful. “It’s possible. I have a meeting with our coven this morning, I will raise it, contact other covens there. Even if it wasn’t a coven, something like that may require investigation. Can you remember the name of the place?”

“No, I can’t. But it must be all over the news.”

A weak smile crossed Gran’s face, the one she gave me when I wasn’t being helpful. 

“Do you need me to come?”

“Ha! Don’t think you’re getting out of your studies that easily. Talking about school, unless you get a move on, you’re going to be late.”

“Fine. Am I still okay to go out tonight?”

Gran cupped my face in her hands. “Of course, of course. Go Riley, and live.”

I took a swig from the bottle in my hand, grimacing at the bitter taste. The shaped glass knocked against my teeth. Something had been off with Gran. Yes, she’d been ill, so ill I’d made a deal with a servant of death to save her soul. But still – 

“God Riley. You’re quiet. You’re here now, you might as well enjoy it.” Kat knelt on the blanket beside me. 

I could smell it as soon as Kat sat down, the stench of stale smoke burning my nostrils. “Please tell me you haven’t been smoking,” I coughed, wafting the fumes away with my hand. 

“Of course, I haven’t,” she said before diving into her bag. She plucked out a shocking pink aerosol can and sprayed it all over herself with a few squirts in the air for good measure. “Simon insists he won’t stop though, so until Channing Tatum becomes available, I’m sticking with him. Anyway, back to you, what’s up?”

I balanced the almost full bottle in the grass, the contents settling uneasily in my stomach. Once again, it would be easier to tell the truth. Although confessing to be a witch would throw up more questions than answers for Kat, and Gran would surely kill me for divulging our secrets. 

“I told you earlier I was tired, I didn’t sleep well.” Striking a deal with an angel in the early hours of the morning proved to be more time-consuming that I’d originally planned. 

“You’re seventeen,” Kat yawned. “You should be able to stay up all night and not feel its effects. But if you’re feeling shit, why don’t we find something to put a smile on your face? Where’s Will?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t seen him for a while. The last time I did, he was fighting his way to the front of the crowd.” I bobbed my head towards the fifty-deep crowd who were dancing and swaying in ways unsuited to the heavy metal band rocking it out on stage. 

Kat had spent weeks talking about this clandestine festival. She’d had to sneak out under the hooked nose of her strict mother, and I felt guilty for spoiling it. Now, with my ears ringing because of the constant din, I wished I’d stuck to the lie I’d tried after lunch. My boyfriend had barely looked at me, never mind spent any time with me, and I found myself disturbed by fleeting thoughts of the angel in Will’s absence. 

Smoke gathered, seeping into my pores choking my lungs. Makeshift fire pits sprang up everywhere in the clearing in the middle of Derwent Woods. Uneasiness prickled my skin. As a water witch, fire put me on edge, and probably affected me more than any of the nemocanes in attendance. Nemocanes were non-witches, those without power. 

“Do you want to go find him?” Kat tilted her head and fluttered her fake eyelashes. 

I’d known her long enough to know she wasn’t asking and before I knew it, Kat had pulled me to my feet. “Come on, let’s see if we can get Will to put a smile on your face. If anyone can, I’m sure it’s him.”

We delved deeper through the crowd, ducking, and weaving through twisting bodies and flailing arms, some of which smacked me straight in the face. The stench was almost unbearable, cheap perfume, the musty smell of beer all mixed in with sweat and smoke. 

“I can’t see them, can you?”

“They’ve got to be here somewhere,” said Kat. She craned her neck to scan the crowd. “Tell you what, if you go to the right, I’ll go this way, and we’ll send the other a text if we find them. Okay? Great.”

“Kat, wait!” But the mass of bodies had already swallowed my friend, bottles of alcohol raised in the air, the crowd singing as loud as their voices would let them. 

Fighting my way in the direction Kat told me to go, I was confronted by one unfamiliar face after another. They swam before my eyes and merged into one continuous blur. Heat rose in my face. Sweat coated my forehead, droplets running down the length of my neck. I tugged at the stiff collar of my denim jacket, but the more I did, the more it closed around my neck like a vice.

More limbs struck.

The fire was overwhelming.

I fought for air. 

My hand raced around my neck in a frantic motion. The contents of dancing bottles dripped down onto my hair and face. Gran would think I’d drank a brewery. 

I forced my way to the back of the crowd, pushing through people as though they were water and I was desperate for the shore. Breaking out into the open, I inhaled as much fresh air as I could, letting the space subdue the rising panic within. 

The constant roar of the band was the only reminder of where I was and the only thing stopping me from falling to my knees and making a spectacle of myself before most of the year twelve and thirteens. 

A glint of white flashed through the trees ahead.

Then another.

My blood turned to stone. 

Then a hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I spun, blood throbbing.

“Where have you been?”

“Nowhere.”

I looked back towards the treeline. 

“You okay? Riley?” Kat’s voice was muffled and far away. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I’m not sure I haven’t,” I mumbled. 

“What? Doesn’t matter. Come on, I’ve found the boys.” Grabbing hold of my wrist, Kat pulled me through the crowd where I couldn’t help but look back.

Ghosts – a definite possibility and harmless in most cases. Demon – more likely and more deadly. I looked around at all those gathered. Shit, so many. It would be a bloodbath. 

“Here they are,” Kat thrust me forward. 

Will and Simon had worked their way right to the front. Lyrics flew from their mouths delivered out of tune between swigs of beer. As soon as Will’s eyes found mine, he stumbled to me with a lopsided grin on his handsome face. I felt a pang in my stomach as another face popped into my head.

Mentally, I told it to piss off. 

“W-w-where have you been?” he slurred. His hands were all over my back, moving lower and lower. Will leaned in read to place a kiss on my lips. Reaching back, I stopped his hands travelling further but welcomed the kiss I’d waited all night for. 

Despite tasting that wretched alcohol, my heart leapt. Worries of dangers lurking beyond the trees evaporated. I’d probably imagined it anyway. Reaching up, I ran my hand through his short dirty-blond hair. 

“We need more time together,” he said, lips pressing against my ear. “Alone.”

I tensed. The meaning was as clear as ringing bells and set in my insides like concrete. I plastered a smile on my face. After all, it was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Having pined for him for the last four years with not one sign I was even on his radar, I was determined to make the most of being his. 

Somewhere, screams pierced the deafening music. 

“What was that?” Will asked, pulling away. 

I ignored him. With my body as still as stone, I looked to see what had caused panic to roll through the crowd. People fled in all directions, frantic limbs flying. I’d stood still long enough to feel the loss of Will’s body heat and watch him leave to join the dispersing group. 

Nausea surged when I realised they were running away from the treeline where I thought I’d glimpsed something other. 

Shit. 

The music cut off and a loud crash sounded as the musicians abandoned their instruments. 

“Will? Kat? I spun on the spot desperately trying to find my friends. I battled against the onslaught of bodies, the only one going towards what made everyone else flee. 

The screaming was terrible. It punctured my mind until I couldn’t think straight.  A tall blur of blond hair and white t-shirt barged my shoulder and knocked me to the ground, not bothering to stop. I hissed at the sharp pain in my hands. Lifting them from the grassy field, thick blood trickled from a jagged wound across my palm. The fragmented remains of a glass bottle lay hidden in the glass coated in my blood. Black in the moonlight, the droplets slid down my hand and into the grass. 

Shadows emerged from the trees, the stark darkness of the woods bleeding into the clearing. They moved in quick, sharp jerks barely touching the ground with their stick-like limbs. The only creatures I had ever seen scurry like that were spiders. 

Demons. But what kind, I didn’t know, had never encountered them in any of my witch studies. My pulse drummed in my ears as all other sounds died. They drew closer, the pale white of their skin stretching over thin, sharp bones like a translucent film. Two pointed pincers bulged out of the side of their head and around the front of their faces. Fire danced in their feline-like eyes. 

The only one left in the clearing, I pushed myself back onto my feet. Only me and a dozen of these things. I grimaced at the throbbing in my hand, and took calculated steps towards the demons, taking care not to trip over the abandoned debris strewn over the grass. 

There were seconds left before they reached me. Would flooding the clearing work? Should I send out a jet of water to blast them back? Quick. Decide. 

“Are you going to make a half-arsed attempt to get away or just let them kill you?”

I whirled on the familiar voice to find the angel standing there. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving you.”

The untamed black hair grazed his shoulders. He held my gaze steady and sure, his lips slightly parted. Something registered on his face and a darkness bloomed in his widening eyes burning with such intensity that the night sky with all its stars and wonders paled in comparison. 

I blinked the image of him away and clicked my tongue. “Save yourself.” With that, I sent three demons skittling with a low jet of water. 

“There’s too many of them, we’ll never make it. Come on,” Rafe reached back and grabbed my wrist to pull me with him.

Not that I wanted to admit it, but he was right. We barrelled across the grass heading for the stage. My much shorter legs struggled to keep up with his longer strides. Even in frantic escape mode, Rafe moved with grace while all my energy was spent trying to stay upright. 

He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re gaining on us. Hurry!”

“Can’t you sprout your wings and fly us out of here?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’ll explain if we survive this.” 

I groaned as he increased his speed dragging me with him, my thighs and calves burning. 

“I need to get to the coven.”

Each penetrating stab reverberated across the ground, and the closer they got, the more their screeched pierced my ear drums. Rafe stopped when we reached a black and silver motorcycle propped up by a short leg at the side of the stage. 

“Hop on,” he said, throwing his leg over. With a kick of his boot, the leg flicked up and the engine roared into life. He looked at me once more. “What are you waiting for?”

“There isn’t a helmet,” I hesitated. 

Dark amusement flickered in his eyes. “Seriously? We’re getting chased by demons who I know want to kill us and you’re worried about where the helmet is.”

I could have explained. I could have told him why the sheer thought of getting on that bike was giving me palpitations and shortening my breath. But I didn’t.

“Safety first,” was all I said. 

“Get on the bike, Riley.”

I stopped myself throwing up. “If we die now, I’m betting it’s down to a lack of safety equipment and not shiny demons with excellent cheekbones.” I hitched up my long skirt and jumped on. At first, I didn’t know where to place my hands and settled on the thin strip of leather between us. 

“Here,” he reached round, grabbed both my hands, and pulled them around his waist. My injured hang stung. My chest crashed into the solid wall of his back.

“I need you to hold on,” he shouted over the noise of the engine. 

Gripping tighter, I brushed the contours of his stomach muscles. Heat bloomed on my cheeks and I was thankful he couldn’t see the fire in my face.

We sped away and the creatures gave chase. 

“Head for Valestone,” I called. “We’ll be safe there.”

Rafe drove straight into the forest. I wondered if he hoped the trees would act as an obstacle to slow the creatures down. Derwent Forest was thick and known for the dense canopy capable of blocking most rays. Especially now, as midnight fast approached, everywhere was black except for the small distance illuminated by the bike’s headlamp and the smouldering fires left in the clearing. 

“Do you know what those things are?”

“Arachna demons. Half human and half spider. All of them female.”

“They can’t be.”

“Female or demons? Hang on!” he steered left, avoiding a row of tree trunks. The bike weaved in and out of trees effortlessly navigating root laden paths as though he’d driven this way a thousand times. 

Daring to look back, my loose hair lashed my face like gilded whips. Somehow, my faux daisy headband stayed in place. A good thing for Rafe because if it flew off, I’d make him go back for it. Demons be damned. 

“They’re getting closer!”

“They can’t move that quick. These are new ones emerging from the undergrowth.”

My head snapped back to him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“None of this is about making you feel better,” he called back, swerving again. 

We hit an emerging root. My hands wrapped tighter around him to stop myself from falling off, but he jumped the bike and landed them back on the ground on the other side. 

“You okay back there?”

“Yes,” I said into the rushing wind. It whistled as it sailed by my ear.

A volcano of dirt and greenery erupted ahead. Rafe jammed on the brakes and skidded, landing at an angle. Two white pincers grappled out of the ground. He paused for a beat before flying off in the direction we faced.  

“Not much further now,” he called back. 

In the distance, the shadows of the forest faded paling to navy blue and lighter still as we neared the edge of the forest. I felt easier knowing we would soon be out. I’d have to wake my grandmother and summon the coven to deal with the demons – Arachna, Rafe called them. How strange I’d never heard of them before. 

We broke out of the boundary of the forest and slammed into the village. The closed lichgate of our village’s Norman church lay ahead, the church on our right, silhouetted against the sky. The interior was nothing more than an illusion created for any tourists making their way to Valestone or visitors from nearby towns. Witches in our coven could see through the magic veil like it was a splash of oil in a puddle. 

I gave a little yelp as Rafe spun the bike, landing parallel to the forest with the church behind us. He twisted the key and the noise died. 

“Well that’s something new,” he stared up at the sky, scanning across the span of the village. 

Following his gaze, I smiled, knowing what had piqued his interest. “It’s a protection dome for the coven. Powered by the High Witch.” When I spoke, my head felt like it was submerged in water, my words muffled, and ears blocked. 

And still the creatures came, their skin shining like a pearl in the moonlight.

“Here they come.”

One creature placed a pincer across the boundary marked by a row of uniform trees. As soon as they did, electric flashes surged up the offending limb until it covered the whole demon. It crackled, steam rising high before its body went limp and slumped to the ground, lifeless. Two other demons scurried up to the dead body, trying to nudge it alive with a pincer but when it didn’t move, they retreated in a hurry taking the whole horde with them.

“Nothing that intends harm can enter.”

“Impressive. I might need a word with your High Witch.”

I dismounted; my attention fixed on the smouldering mass of flesh. “I’m not so sure about that,” I said absently. “A servant of death seeking her out about a protection dome might freak her out.”

“Point taken.”

I turned to smile at Rafe. “Nice bike.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and threw his leg over the motorcycle to stand next to me. 

“Yeah, it’s not mine. Some idiot left it next to the stage with keys in the ignition. An idiot I’m very grateful to, but I’m just going to leave it here. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. I’m going to wake my grandmother with the wonderful news that half of the neighbouring town have witnessed and were nearly eaten by demons. Some possibly eaten if I don’t get a move on.” I studied the gash across my palm, flecks of dried blood formed a boundary around the open wound. 

“Are you hurt?”

I snatched it away, hiding it by my side. “Just a little scratch.”

“Show me.”

“I said it’s fine.”

Rafe sighed and held an upturned hand. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation in my mind and before I knew it, he was cradling my hand in his almost reverently as he ran a calloused finger tip down my palm. 

My breath bated. He smelled of soap. Clean, like rolling in freshly washed linen. I couldn’t look at his face. 

“When you get home, I want you to properly clean the wound.”

“My Gran will have a poultice of witch hazel leaves and bark. She’ll sort it.” I would have sworn I saw a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“And I’ll come back tomorrow to heal it when I have my powers back.”

My head snapped up. “What do you mean? Is that why you couldn’t fly? Have you lost your powers?”

“So many questions, little witch.”

I cocked my head to one side silently demanding answers. 

“Angels are given a day off, if you will, every ten thousand souls they collect. Today is mine, but you live the day as a mortal. No powers, no wings.”

“You had a day off and you decided to creep around a teenage party? Not that you look much older than we do…”

At that, Rafe chucked. “Get going, or someone is going to find themselves at the mercy of an Arachna demon.”

“I need my hand back.”

A hint of colour stained his cheeks, but he dropped my hand as though the contact burned him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Rafe nodded in reply. 

I kicked my legs into gear. I made it to the end of the lane before the urge to look back became too much. He should’ve gone, but he was still there, lounging against the stolen bike, watching. 

It took everything I had to move away. 

Chapter 1

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

CHAPTER UPDATE FOR NEVER TEAR US APART

Meddling siblings, lavender biscuits, encounters with Malcolm, and a sunset in Hampshire. Back to the world of Never Tear Us Apart! 

Sorry for the months long hiatus but hello, I'm back to Never Tear Us Apart! It’s been outlined and plotted since I wrote the first chapter but I hit a major wall this summer when real life hit me very hard.  It took me awhile to find my way to writing again and when I did return I realized I had so much to process with Wayward Son. It was particularly hard return to writing this particular fic. Much as I loved WS, it definitely put a pause on this fic, which was my version of a sequel to Carry On. I had to decide how I wanted to think about it--did I want to keep going with the story the way I had planned it out or did i somehow want to bring it in line with the canonical story line of WS?  In the end I decided to keep to my original ideas, to stay the course.  To regard this now as an non-canonical AU that is very much set in the post-Carry On world but not the Wayward Son one. I think I found their voices again. I hope those of you that have followed this fic enjoy this update. And for those of you that are new to it--it’s going to keep going. i can’t promise you a set update schedule but i am going to tell this story to the end. Accompanying playlists can be found on spotify under tbazzsnow. 

Here’s a bit of chapter 12:

Baz

Simon looks so fucking beautiful right now. His hair is a mess, strands sticking to his forehead, curls tumbled down over his face. He’s flushed from the dancing, finally letting himself succumb to the music—he throws his head back as I watch him, his arms and hips moving sinuously to the beat.

I follow a bead of sweat as it trickles from his forehead, down his jaw, to trace a line along his neck.

I want to lick it off.

That would lead to a whole host of other things I want to do to Simon and no amount of sound-proofing or door-locking spells would prove adequate at keeping my siblings from somehow encroaching on us during daylight hours. They are persistent and undeterrable.

And this next step of intimacy we’ve reached is so new, so precious to me, that I don’t want anything to intrude on it.

The song switches over to “Never Gonna Give You Up” and the mood shifts as Simon opens his eyes and huffs a laugh at me. “I can’t believe you, of all people, have this song on your playlist.”

“It’s Fiona’s playlist.”

“That she made for you.” He’s grinning now and I’m perfectly content to take any amount of shit from him about my musical preferences because the playlist fucking did its job and made him smile again.

Points to Rick Astley. And Fiona, I suppose.

And to me, for not taking this song off the list.

I’m never taking this song off the playlist.

Simon shuffles his way over to me, singing along with the song as he does.

“Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you”

We’re both singing along by the time he puts his arms on my shoulders and I slide mine around his waist.

“Never gonna make you cry  

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you”

It’s just a stupid pop song but I mean every word I’m saying right now. I’d put magic into the lyrics if I dared.

If I thought I needed to.

Simon’s lips find mine as the chorus fades into the next song. His fingers slide up to tangle in my hair and he pulls me closer. “That song is going to be stuck in my head for the rest of the day, thanks to you.”

We sway to the music as I trail my lips up his jaw to his ear and whisper “I meant every word of it.”

Simon pulls back to look at me, his blue eyes wide and questioning. “What?”

I lean down to press our foreheads together. “Every word of that ridiculous chorus.” All I see is that brilliant blue, the bronze glint of Simon’s eyelashes, the crinkles in the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

He’s smiling up at me. So close that I can feel his breath on my lips when he speaks. “I’ll never give up on you, Baz Pitch. I told you that once. I’ve never turned my back on you and I never will.”

This kiss is searing. His mouth is hot. Everything is hot. He’s pushing against me and I’m pushing back with everything I have, my grip tightening on his hips, his chest pressed up against mine, fingers clenched into my hair, the heat of him radiating into my every pore.

His mouth is dissipating every thought but the ones of him.

I’ll never give up on you, Simon Snow. I don’t know what the world would be like without you.  

His hands are under my shirt, his fingertips leaving blazing trails against my skin. My own drift to his waistband, sliding up to brush his belly, relishing the way he shivers at my touch.

Crowley, I wish we were back in London.

“I wish we were back home.” The words slip out as I mouth at that spot behind Simon’s ear. That makes him shiver too.

“You are home,” Simon says, tilting his head back as my lips trail down to his neck. He slides his leg between mine and presses closer.

“You know what I mean.” I bury my face in his shoulder and breathe him in. He’s brown butter and cinnamon today, with that underlying tangy scent that’s all his own.

I feel his breath in my hair, stirring the strands, his voice just a whisper but I can hear it.  “Home is wherever I’m with you, Baz.”

My heart thumps in my chest. When he says things like that, when he puts words to my own thoughts, when he speaks without stumbling over those words--those are the moments when I truly believe that Simon Snow loves me.

It’s a heady sensation.

A blaze flaring up in my heart, searing its way through my veins.

He’s in my arms, in my heart, in my lungs, he’s made his way into every part of me, pouring warmth and love and life into my very soul.

My mouth finds his. “I love you, Simon Snow.”

I can feel his smile against my lips. “I’ll never get tired of you saying that.”

“Then I’ll never stop saying it.” I kiss him again and I can’t help but smile myself. “I love you, Simon Snow.”

I kiss the mole on his cheek I’ve loved since I was twelve. “I love you, Simon Snow.” I kiss his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, repeating the words every time.

He’s trembling. Eyes closed, head thrown back, the glorious line of his neck exposed to my lips.

His hands rake down my back.

I should pull back . . . I should take a moment . . . I should . . .

Simon opens his eyes to pin me with a look. Pupils blown wide, face flushed, lips parted. “Why’d you stop? I was kind of liking that, yeah.”

His mouth curves up in a bit of a smirk and he’s so fucking delectable I would snog him to oblivion if I could.

Fuck. I’d do more than that.

“We’re here, not home.” It sounds as pathetic out loud as it did in my head.

“That didn’t stop us last night.”

“But . . .” Why the fuck did I stop? “Well, it’s the middle of the day . . . they’re all . . . well, you know. My siblings are . . . they’re devious little goblins.” Crowley, I sound an absolute tit.

Simon raises an eyebrow but he’s absolute shit at it so he ends up looking surprised rather than superior. It’s fucking adorable.

“They’re not even home.”

“What?”

“They’re not even here. Daphne took them to some children’s play centre for the day.”

“What?” Crowley, I’m repeating myself like an idiot.“How do you know that?”

“Vera told me. When I went for crisps.”

There is no situation that Simon feels cannot be improved with snacks. There are two packets of Walkers on my nightstand.

It’s not salt and vinegar crisps I’m craving at this moment.

“Come here, you stupid git.” Simon pulls me to him by my belt loops. It’s far sexier than it has any right to be. “Soundproof the room, if you’re that worried about it. Magick the door.”

Where the fuck is my wand?

Simon

I’m the first to get embarrassed around Baz’s family but it’s happened to me so many times now that I can’t summon up the will to worry about it at the moment. They’ve assumed we’ve been shagging for ages so I’m not fussed.

Particularly when the house is practically empty and Baz is looking like this.

He fed early this morning so he’s got a bit of a flush in his cheeks. And he’s got that look, that look I always used to think meant he was about to attack me. I mean, it is the look he gets when he’s about to attack me, but it’s all about a snogging me senseless type of attack. I like those. I like those a lot.

I like everything about Baz right now. The flush, the brightness of his eyes, how his lips are parted, barely brushed with pink. The way his shirt’s hiked up and his pupils are wide and dark, set against the grey of his eyes.

I pull him closer, fingers hooked in his belt loops and I like the way his breath catches when I do it.

He’s flustered, can hardly get the words out, and Merlin, I love it when he’s just as much of a mess as me.

I know exactly where his wand is. I move my hands to his perfect arse and squeeze. That makes him jump a bit so I yank his wand out of his back pocket and wave it in his face.

“Come on. Drop a “sound of silence” and stop being such a fussbudget.”

He draws back, wand in the air, eyebrows pulled together. “I am not a fussbudget.”

“Fine, then you’re a prig. Merlin, Baz, I’m starting to think you don’t want to have a good shag.”

He grabs my shirt in his grip and pulls me to him and I love the controlled power emanating from him, coiled and ready to unleash.

My tail wraps around his leg and he shivers. Baz will never admit it but he’s definitely got a thing for my tail.

I may have a bit of a thing for this too. I can hold him to me, wrap myself around him in every way.

It’s the last bit of magic left in me, I think. Not anything I can use or tap into or really even feel anymore. But I can still touch him with magic, when I do this. And imagine it’s enough.

read the rest of this chapter on ao3! 

full fic here!

spotify playlists at tbazzsnow 

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Friendly Neighborhood Harmacy || Simon and Kaden

TIMING: A few hours after Blanche was possessed LOACTION: Pharmacy Downtown PARTIES: @inconvenientsimonstrocity and @chasseurdeloup​ SUMMARY: Hunter and Werewolf shopping trip that didn’t go wrong at all

Kaden knew he shouldn’t be out right now anywhere unprotected with wards or salt. He was a walking lightning rod for bullshit ghost activity. But he needed more ibuprofen. Desperately. Maybe some Excedrin. The headache pounding in his skull seemingly refused to die down and there was nothing left in his house. The combination of crying and worrying and just overall stress wasn’t boding well. Riding it out wasn’t going to fix it. The pharmacy down and around the corner was close enough to his apartment. He’d be in and out quickly enough. The ghost should still be gone for now, too. If not, he had salt packets in his jacket and an iron knife in his back pocket. He turned the corner, eyes still a little blurry and saw someone standing in his way. “Hey. Can you move?” Kaden wasn’t normally super polite to begin with, but he was too haggard to even pretend tonight.

Simon had been standing there for… longer than he would’ve admitted to a total stranger-- well no, that wasn’t true. Simon was always ready to take a fall or look like the fool to spare someone else’s ego or intelligence and this was no different but he was honestly comparing and contrasting the labels on at least three different types of allergy medication at that moment. He wasn’t a huge fan of nasal spray but maybe that would’ve been more effective? He found himself slowly but increasingly growing worried of developing liver failure or a stomach ulcer from how many pills he had to take depending on how close to the full moon it was. Was it placebo? Was he just making this all up? What if it was psychosomatic? These were all thoughts that floated through his head as he lifted one bottle to read the contents, then the other that was wedged between his ring and pinky fingers when he heard a voice push through his thought cloud. He turned sharply and regarded a… Kaden? He had only seen the man once before, at his birthday party but he knew his memory wasn’t failing him yet though he certainly looked worse for wear this time around. “I’m sorry,” He apologised, taking a generous step back as he felt the hair on the back of his neck instinctively stand on end at being so suddenly close to a werewolf Hunter. He ignored the feeling. “Are… you okay?” He found himself asking though part of him certainly didn’t mean to.

“Thanks,” he grumbled as he shuffled past the guy to get to the rows of painkillers. For a second, Kaden thought he felt something. A chill, maybe? Was the poltergeist here? Or was it something else? He couldn't tell. All he could feel was the fucking throbbing in his head like it was getting louder somehow. Maybe this guy was bringing it out, maybe he was a fucking werewolf because that would be his luck tonight, who knew. Kaden certainly didn’t. And he sure as fuck didn’t care as long as he moved out of his way. Thank god he did. Or he was tempted to throw a punch or something. That kind of night. “Why do you care?” he said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed at least 3 different kinds of painkillers, barely looking at the labels to see the difference between any of them. Didn’t care. “What’s it to you anyway?” Normally he would move on and let some weird stranger’s small talk lie but something about tonight made him want to pick a fight. An eyebrow quirked in what seemed to feel like a mixture of concern and curiosity as Kaden seemed keen to shove past Simon had the latter not complied. “Because you weren’t like this at your party,” He said, considering after the fact that perhaps it wasn’t his wisest move to show his “cards” so soon into the awkward small talk. Normally, he would’ve been more careful about how to proceed but so far, he’d seen Kaden twice now and he looked miserable both times. He glanced briefly at the medication Kaden had picked up - and he seemed to pay more attention to what they were than the younger man, at least. He didn’t say anything about that though and set his own contemplations back where they had sat on the shelf carefully. He wanted to add something else, something like ‘you seem like you need to yell at someone’ but he didn’t, keeping his comment brief and leading. He remembered the verbal spat they got into online a few weeks back, noting that he had to get ‘mean’ for Kaden to… react. He was hoping that might not’ve been the case this time.

Kaden’s brow furrowed as he turned to look back at the other man. “At my party?” he asked. Did he know this guy? Should he know this guy? He looked kind of familiar, sure. In that way that meant you could have passed each other in a hallway once or twice or been to the same bar a few different nights. Noting specific sprung to mind. “Do I know you?” Shit was this someone he worked with? Maybe he was supposed to know this guy. Putain. Either way, know him or not, Kaden didn’t need anyone seeing him like this. Didn’t need to chit chat about his miserable fucking life in the middle of the fucking pharmacy. Just when he was about to open his mouth to ask something more, a light overhead flickered. Only a little. He glanced up. It was just a shitty  fluorescent light in a beat down small town store. Had to be. Right? Putain. As Simon correctly predicted, the question was enough to give Kaden pause and the younger man regarded him. He entertained several different responses to Kaden’s question such as ‘no, I just work at the morgue’, ‘no but I know you’ and just the regular classic ‘no, sorry’ but he didn’t give an answer at all as Kaden seemed to open his mouth to say something more but he faltered and looked up at the light as it flickered. Simon didn’t turn his head upward but he did accompany the hunter in looking up briefly at the light - he had been in and out of that store many times since he first arrived and not once had the lights been faulty, at least not like that. “I, uh…” He picked an answer to Kaden’s question. “No, you don’t. At least not the face.” He cleared his throat. “I’m the guy that said he didn’t like dogs online and got some backlash from you.” Animal Control, he remembered. He himself had a dog named…. Abel. Be kind.

This conversation made less and less sense to him as it went on. Kaden had a feeling there was something this guy wasn’t saying but he couldn’t put a finger on it. “Right. You.” He may not be able to recognize this man but anyone who didn’t like dogs was automatically questionable in his book. At best. “Weird way to introduce yourself,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He searched the guy’s face for any clue for his angle. What the hell he was after. “So. Who are you? Why were you at that shit hole of a party anyway?” The lights cut out in the whole store. Kaden staggered, head darting back and forth like he could find the cause of this. A few seconds later, they flickered and came back on. Not good. “I was--” Simon started to reply when the lights in the whole store shut off for a few seconds. His eyes adjusted much faster when they turned off than when they turned back on and he narrowed his eyes faintly, not entirely too shaken about what seemed to be a basic power outage but Kaden’s body language suggested otherwise, giving Simon the impression that this wasn’t normal. Well… he was correct, it WASN’T but Simon opted to stay calm; he had his fair share of paranoid nights and he was certain that people oftentimes thought he looked similarly disheveled to the Hunter. “Are you okay?” He asked again, tilting his head slightly as he regarded Kaden with a slightly gentler expression. “You seem… nervous.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. Kaden was used to being the one in control of a supernatural situation, the problem solver. The one to swoop in with the answers and the ability to protect the uninitiated humans around him. Asking people if they were okay was his line. “Why do you care any--” Before he could finish, there was a crash from across the store. “Putain de merde,” he grumbled, mostly to himself. Not again. He took the boxes of drugs and shoved them onto a shelf. Any shelf. “Yeah, gotta go.” As fucking weird as this conversation had been, he had to get out of there now. As he pushed past the guy, the lights went out again. And this time they stayed out. Kaden froze in place. The few other people in the store screamed. No. No no no. “I just wanted Advil!” he shouted in French at the ceiling, like that’s where his mother was. Granted, she was a fucking poltergeist. She could be anywhere. Fuck. All he heard was another crash, this time in the opposite side of the store. The older man also turned his head sharply when the crash sounded off and when Kaden passed by him, making sure to make contact this time, Simon followed whether out of innate curiosity for the sound, Kaden’s clearly compromised mindset or some third purpose. The lights went out yet again, not to return and he almost ran into the younger man as the latter stopped suddenly. Simon himself tensed up this time as other people screamed but he had to be honest, he wasn’t sure why Kaden himself was now yelling in French, why the lights kept going out, or what that crash on the other side of the store was. He wanted to ask what was going on but given Kaden’s previous track record of… not being honest, he wasn’t sure if his question was going to get an answer so he silently clung close to Kaden as his blue eyes glanced towards the crash… he may not’ve known what was going on but he had a feeling that Kaden, the ever-efficient werewolf hunter, would have some sort of weapon or knowledge up his sleeve to at least bark an order at him if he could help.

By this point, it seemed like the other people in the store had filed out or were making their way to the door. Not “Are you okay?” guy, though. Whatever, Kaden didn’t have time to worry about that. “Yeah, now’s probably a good time to be anywhere but here,” he told the other man through grit teeth. Kaden ran back into one of the aisles on the way to the front of the store. Then he heard a creaking and a big slam. Well that sounded bad. Then another slam. And another and-- Putain. Before he knew it, he saw the entire aisle tilting forward onto him, boxes and plastic containers pummeling him. Shit. At least he finally gave Simon some direction on where to go, even if that was to leave the store. Though part of him wanted to go check up on the other customers, he was noting as he followed behind Kaden that everyone else had fled, smartly. He didn’t run the way Kaden did but his stride was purposeful though his mind still buzzed with curiosity rather than danger the way it should’ve - why did the lights go out? What was attacking the pharmacy? . . . Would he get a sale if he offered to help pick up afterwards? He was interrupted from is absent thinking when he heard the sound of something colliding with something else, then repeated like… dominos. He tensed further as the rhythmic crashing got louder and he glanced ahead just in time to see the shelf tilting and starting to tumble towards Kaden. His next couple moves were autonomous, not thinking and just reacting as he dove forward, rolling onto his back and throwing all four of his limbs up to catch the shelf. He felt a burst of adrenaline, a pulse through his body as his strength was thrown into holding the shelf up at least long enough for Kaden to escape without being totally crushed.

Kaden winced and ducked, arms above him, anticipating the shelf to come crashing down on him. Only it didn’t. He opened his eyes and saw the other guy holding the fucking thing. Shit. Also why didn’t he think of that? Putain. Kaden didn’t waste anymore time and shuffled out of the aisle. He gripped his hands around the edge of the shelf and pulled with all he had. Only way to be sure his current life saver didn’t get crushed as well. “Out!” he shouted to the other guy. Not sure how long he could hold it. He didn’t have to wonder long. A gust of wind raged through the store. Kaden held tight until his companion was out, even as it threatened to push him off his feet. As soon as he could, he let go and ran to the door. He pushed. It wouldn't open. He pulled. Nothing. He rattled it back and forth, rammed it. Stuck. Locked. Maybe. One bang on the glass with his first was enough to assure him it wasn’t glass at all  but fucking plastic, some sort of anti-shatter shit. Which sure, made sense in this town. Also fucking inconvenient at the moment. “Need a way out!” he yelled over to the guy, seemed like they were the only two unlucky bastards left in there. As soon as he saw Kaden get out from under it and hold it up for him, Simon flipped onto his hands and knees and skittered out himself so Kaden didn’t have to hold the thing up longer than absolutely necessary though it seemed as though everything was trying to get him to fail - he sensed that was a running trend for Kaden. His arms hurt from catching the shelf and even then he was wondering why he did that but neither of them were hurt that badly so far so they had that going for them. “Thanks,” He replied over the sounds of disarray and chaos that seemed to swirl about them. He saw the other man try the door before banging on the glass with his own balled fist. “Damn,” He muttered, turning on a heel to look for something that could help them break the glass and instead finding the front counter. A key? He glanced up and found himself sniffing the air. A vent? That might be efficient. A back door? He found that too much information was going through his head, body getting more tense and he felt his fingernails growing subconsciously. “What did you have in mind?” He called back.

Kaden looked for an exit sign, the kind that usually stayed lit even when the lights went out. Apparently not right now. Putain. “Back door maybe. If we can find it.” He took his phone out and used it as a flashlight as he shuffled through fallen items on the store’s floor, hoping to maybe find some salt. Or that fucking advil he wanted. Shoplifting didn’t feel like a fucking issue right at this point. So far all he saw was a lot of weird colorful shit he assumed was makeup. Some hair products. Hey, that was one he-- A blast of wind poured into the room. From fucking nowhere. But it was so strong, Kaden had to fight against it; products were lifted in the air and swirling around, whacking and slicing into his already cut and scabbed skin. “Door-- Need to-- Find it,” he said as he tried to shield his face from flying objects. He tapped the guy’s shoulder, pointing towards the direction he was headed when he felt it again. That chill down his spine. He was-- Putain de merde. Of course he was stuck in here with a fucking werewolf. “You know what, I don’t care,” he said as he climbed over shelves and battled through the wind, trying to pick his way to the back of the store. The wind only intensified as he walked away from the werewolf. Back door, right. In a few light hops, Simon went over to the counter and opened the most obvious drawer quickly to try to find the key that could open either of the doors. Not the first drawer, maybe the second? Claws scraped around inside the drawers until he caught a faint glimmer and he snatched a toothy key up. “Okay, okay,” He repeated to himself and quickly caught up to where Kaden was searching for things on the floor when another sudden blast of wind buffeted them both with boxed medicines and fine edges of makeup. He held one of his arms up as he also tried to shield his face, not caring quite so much but something spiked in him when Kaden touched him, brief as it was. He wanted to run, fight and attack simultaneously but he pushed what he felt were ‘primal desires’ down. Suddenly, though, Kaden turned and he heard Kaden say something along the lines of ‘I don’t care’ even through the whipping wind. “H-hey wait!” Simon called, still following after him. “I have the key!”

Kaden’s foot caught and he slipped on one of the shelves, banging his calf into another on the way down. He cried out in pain and felt the edges of flat backed packaging starting to lacerate his skin. Again. He winced and tried to push himself up. He just wanted to run away from this and he couldn’t even do that. Then he heard something that sounded like “keys” through the blasts of wind. Kaden wanted to scream. Of course the werewolf was the one to save him and get him out of here. Of course. And he was sure his mother wanted him to kill it but really, he was having trouble caring what she wanted right now. With a groan, he pushed himself up and headed back towards the fucking werewolf. “Great. Get us the fuck out. And then run.” In the darkness and wind and items flying around them, Simon saw Kaden stumble and it was then that the smell of blood greeted his nose. Another pulse through his body, clenching his clawed fists, cracking his neck and he planted himself on the ground, steeling against the wind as he pushed through to meet Kaden as the latter limped back to him. “Here--” Though he knew Kaden was surely going to protest, he ignored the other man’s resistance if he put any up and placed one of Kaden’s arms around his shoulders, keeping the key tightly in his hand. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew every fiber of himself wanted to either try to kill this man or flee from him but he was determined to do neither as he pushed through the wind alongside Kaden. The store itself wasn’t very big and the emergency exit was within sight to him even in the pitch-black store so he kept going with a resolute pace and feeling Kaden’s warmth against his skin. “Okay, gimme one sec--” He pushed the key into the lock and struggled for a second to open the door, finally pushing it open and almost falling over as he tumbled forward, spilling onto the back patio.

Kaden grumbled but allowed himself to be helped out of the fucking tunnel of wind by the goddamn werewolf. As much as he hated asking for help, even more so when from a monster, he hated the idea of dying in a shit small town pharmacy because the ghost of his mother buried him with boxes of medicine and bottles of shampoo and packets of ramen. There was no way he could kill this werewolf either. Not in human form. He’d never even seen the change. Not that it seemed to matter to his mother. Still he sighed and pushed forward with the other man to the door. “Any faster,” he said through grit teeth, glancing behind him as the tunnel of wind in the center of the room picked up and began to spread. He bolted out of the door as soon as he could, then turned to slam it closed behind them both. “I’m going home. You should, too. If you know what’s good for you.” His voice had no warmth or appreciation to it, but it was better than the disdain most wolves garnered from him. “Thanks,” he muttered under his breath before turning to run back to his well warded apartment.

As soon as they were out, Kaden made sure to pull himself away from Simon, who exhaled heavily as he stretched his arms and legs; they were gonna be sore tomorrow. He didn’t know what he was expecting in terms of reactions from Kaden so it didn’t surprise him that the younger man was still abrasive towards him. Surely, he had to have figured out by now that Simon was a werewolf, which probably added to his innate hatred for him. Simon didn’t think much of it; at least he didn’t die in the store or get crushed by falling shelving units. He massaged his shoulders at the thought of that bit as he kept his eyes on Kaden with a certain alertness. As much as part of him wanted to scoff dismissively at Kaden’s warning - like he gave a single shit about suggesting what Simon should do that was good for him - he didn’t and instead gave a rather quiet “Happy to help” in response to Kaden’s half-hearted thank you. The Hunter departed and Simon sighed again, dropping to a crouch for a moment as he sat outside of the ruined pharmacy in the dark, clicking his sharpened nails together idly and finding himself wondering if he did the right thing.

[carmenlire]

Bop to the Top

Flufftober day 1: Dancing

read on ao3

The reception hall echoes with the sound of the hundred guests having a wonderful time.

Alec sweeps a hand down his husband’s back, pulls him closer as they dance to a slow song. He feels Magnus lay a kiss over his jaw and hums a little, more than content as they enjoy their corner of the dance floor.

They’re barely moving, just swaying in place really, and Alec blames the champagne for how light he feels– well, that and the warmth radiating from Magnus.

“What’s in that head of yours, Mr. Lightwood-Bane?”

Laughing softly, Alec’s noses along Magnus’s hair before replying, “I’m thinking that it’s about time that Luke made an honest woman of my mother.” His voice lowers as does his hand, until it’s grazing Magnus ass. “And that I can’t wait to get you out of this fucking suit.”

“Alexander,” his husband murmurs and it’s equal parts fond and exasperated. “We’re in public, darling.”

“So?”

He hears the quick intake of Magnus’s breath as nibbles on an earlobe, starts kissing a path down his husband’s neck. His progress is quickly halted, though, as Magnus pulls back enough to level him with an long suffering stare.

“So, darling husband of mine, I’m sure you don’t want to do anything you’ll regret in the morning– especially when it’s in front of your mother and the rest of your family.”

Alec just blinks at him, lost for words. Magnus’s argument is sound but damn if he isn’t getting increasingly impatient at waiting to rip the damn suit off his husband– something that Magnus, the bastard, knew the moment he put it on, as he’d watched Alec watch him through the mirror as he slowly, tortuously, buttoned his shirt earlier in the evening.

“Here’s a deal for you,” Magnus whispers and it catches in the space between their lips as he draws a hand over the slope of Alec’s shoulders, traces the outline of the deflect rune even as they keep up with the meandering pace of the music. “Calliope is staying the night with Raphael and Simon and that leaves us all alone in a hotel room for the first time in, oh, three years. If you can wait just a little longer, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Feeling unaccountably warm at Magnus’s drawling voice, Alec clears his throat before arching a brow. “And how do I know you’re a man of your word, Mr. Lightwood-Bane?”

Magnus grins and it’s sharp enough to make Alec dizzy. “Oh, I’m sure you have your ways to keep me in line, Mr. Lightwood-Bane.”

Alec’s just set to say fuck it and drag Magnus up to their suite when he hears a voice that he’d know anywhere call out, “Daddy! Papa!”

Taking a measured breath, Alec and Magnus take a hasty step away from each other and Alec looks down just in time to see a little body launch itself at his legs. Calliope wraps her arms around his knees, hugging tightly, and grins up at him.

Grinning back at her, Alec reaches down, pulling one of her curls down before releasing it so that it springs back up. He does it mostly because his daughter has inherited his husband’s flair for dramatics and her annoyed nose scrunch is cute as hell.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

Their daughter looks over at Magnus and her expression turns into a pout. “I want to dance but I don’t know how.”

Magnus looks over at Alec and raises his brows. Alec shrugs and crouches down until he’s more at eye level with their four year old.

“You want to dance to this,” Alec asks dubiously, considering a waltz is playing.

Nodding vehemently, Calliope reaches for his hands. “Show me how, daddy! Please,” she implores, dragging the word out until it’s at least half a dozen syllables.

Laughing, Alec takes her hands, notes for the thousandth time just how tiny she is compared to him. “Okay, okay, hold your horses. I’ll teach you how to dance.”

He looks up as Magnus slides a hand over his back and they share an amused glance before Magnus leans down and pinches her cheek. “Break a leg, dear.”

Alec huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as Magnus starts toward their table but not before throwing a wink over his shoulder. He finds his gaze dropping down to watch Magnus’s ass as he walks away but Calliope pulls on his arms just a few seconds later, demanding all of his attention.

“Alright, let’s dance,” Alec says and his kid’s enthusiasm is contagious. The music isn’t quite as slow as it was a few minutes ago but it’s still something sedated.

They start by moving side to side and gradually Alec starts adding a bit of a turn. Calliope is an athletic child but she trips over his shoes a dozen times and starts looking more and more frustrated.

The dance floor is mostly full and as Alec guides them, he keeps a lookout for any errant adults who might not notice a small child next to them. While the dancing is anything but smooth, Alec doesn’t think they’re doing that badly when Calliope suddenly pulls away from him and bursts into tears, covering her face with her hands.

Alec’s heart turns over– he never could stand to see his daughter cry– but he’s confused as hell.

Crouching down, Alec reaches out until he can cover Calliope’s arms with tentative hands. “Honey? What’s wrong?”

Calliope doesn’t say anything for a long moment and Alec moves one hand until it can sweep over her back in a comforting motion. When she finally speaks, though, her voice is too muffled for him to catch a blasted word.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you, sweetheart.”

Lowering her hands until her face is visible, Calliope crosses her arms and looks at Alec mutinously. She’s cute as a button even if there are tear tracks down her cheeks.

“I said that I’m not a good dancer and if I’m not a good dancer than I won’t ever be able to dance with anyone.”

Alec frowns at the explanation. It doesn’t make sense to him but hell if he hasn’t become adept at solving problems he doesn’t understand since Izzy was old enough to talk. As he studies his kid, Alec can’t help but think back to the dance lessons he took when he was her age. His instructor had been harsh but still no match for Maryse all those years ago. Perfection had been demanded and Alec can still feel the echo of his punishment when he stumbled, when he grew off beat.

He never wants his daughter to feel that weight of expectation. The truth is, no matter what kind of dancer Calliope is, Alec will always be honored to dance with her– not to mention that he’s learned a lesson from Magnus that the Institute never could’ve taught him.

Sometimes it’s better to have fun and enjoy yourself than to be perfect.

Pulling her closer, Alec wraps his daughter in a hug, relieved when she doesn’t pull away. “You aren’t a bad dancer, Calliope– you’ve just never done this before and it takes practice to get good at something. Plus, if someone doesn’t want to dance with you, that’s their loss– you can always dance with your me or your papa even if you do have two left feet.”

Calliope looks down, frowning. “I don’t have two left feet, daddy. I have a left and a right just like you taught me.”

Biting his lip to keep his laughter in, Alec replies, “It’s just a saying, honey. Having two left feet means that someone isn’t a very good dancer– which is not true for you,” he hastily adds.

Calliope doesn’t look convinced and Alec has two seconds to think of a solution before his daughter has another crisis. Thinking fast, Alec nudges her to look up, which she does with watery eyes.

“Why don’t we dance with you standing on my feet? That way I can show you the moves and neither one of us has to worry about running into the other.”

Alec’s rather proud of himself for that solution but Cally doesn’t look so sure. “I’m a big girl, daddy! I can’t stand on your feet.”

Heart surging, Alec looks down at his kid who doesn’t even come up to his waist and feels something shift in him because he can already feel time sifting through his fingers faster than he’d like and he knows that, far sooner than he’s ready, Calliope’s words will be true.

Still. He rolls his eyes, poking her gently in the stomach just to hear her giggle before sternly saying, “Nonsense. You’ll never be too old to dance with me.”

It takes a little more convincing but Alec guides Calliope until she has one foot over each of his shoes and he starts dancing along to the music. Now that he’s not worried about stepping on his daughter, Alec lets loose a little and they keep easy time as they take a turn around the room. His back is starting to ache from being so hunched over but Alec knows he’d spend an eternity just like this if only to make his daughter happy.

Calliope holds his hands with all her might and Alec makes sure they don’t stumble as they follow the beat of the music. His daughter laughs, enjoys the spinning around, and Alec finds himself echoing that laughter and feeling lighter than he ever thought imaginable.

He’s mid laugh when he looks up and the breath is knocked from him.

Because there’s his husband meeting his eyes from across the room. Magnus is watching the two of them and his expression is far too soft for everyone to see. Alec easily deciphers his gaze because he feels the same riot of emotions when he wakes up to see Calliope helping Magnus with breakfast or watching as Magnus reads their child a story from the rocking chair they’d bought the week before the adoption became official.

It’s something he never understood, not even when he sometimes felt less like a brother and more like a parent to his siblings.

There’s something that just squeezes his chest when he thinks of the family he’s made with Magnus and Calliope. He sees that same love and devotion and wonder in Magnus’s eyes and they share a look filled with everything they can’t find the words for before Calliope is pulling on his hands again and hopping off his feet.

“Thanks, dad,” she says happily before taking a step back. “I know how to dance now!”

She runs through the dance floor a second later and Alec’s left standing in the middle of things as he watches his little bundle of chaos miraculously avoid all the tipsy couples on the dance floor.

Shaking his head, Alec makes his way back to Magnus, who’s enjoying a piece of wedding cake.

“What was that about,” he asks, amused and Alec makes a noncommittal noise before leaning in and taking the bite off Magnus’s fork before his husband can react.

“Who the hell knows,” Alec laughs and they spend the next little while people watching and enjoying their cake.

They’re getting ready to let Simon and Raphael know that they’re heading upstairs when Magnus starts laughing, leaning in until he’s hiding his smile against Alec’s sleeve.

“I think I know why our dear daughter wanted to learn how to dance.”

Alec looks up and it takes him a moment but then he’s grinning at the dance floor. He relaxes back in his chair, pulling Magnus close with an arm over his shoulders. “She takes back after you, you know.”

“Oh please, Alexander. I would never be so obvious about my crush.”

Alec scoffs and when he sees his daughter echo a move that Magnus uses to this day, his husband doesn’t give him a chance to reply before he’s grumbling, “Okay, maybe she has been watching me.”

“How to woo the object of your affections 101. She’s a natural,” Alec laughs.

He hears Magnus sigh but doesn’t take his eyes off his daughter, who’s dancing with Maia, looking up at the Alpha leader with shining eyes. Calliope’s always had a bit of hero worship for the woman but now Alec wonders if maybe his daughter didn’t have the tiniest crush on Maia, too.

She’s still a little wobbly but her dancing is much better than it was at the start of the evening.

They watch as Calliope kisses Maia’s hand in a move that Magnus still treats Alec to every time they dance and Maia takes it with good grace, biting back her laughter, and gently guides them around the room.

It’s adorable, Alec thinks and he imprints this moment in his mind, one of a thousand memories he’s accumulated over the years that bring him unimaginable joy.

He’s lost in his thoughts as he watches his daughter dance but he’s shaken out of his reverie when Magnus nudges his arm.

Looking over, it takes everything Alec has not to kiss that coy look off his husband’s face.

“Why don’t you join me on the dance floor one more time before we call it a night, darling? And then I’ll let you have your wicked way with me until morning,” Magnus murmurs and it’s not strange, after all this time, for Alec to feel a dizzying mix of joy and lust and overwhelming love for the man in front of him.

Instead of answering immediately, Alec stands and holds out a hand to Magnus. “Only if you let me lead,” he says with a cocky look.

Magnus laughs out loud, sliding his hand into Alec’s as he stands and starts guiding Alec back towards the other couples.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.”

[tobythewise]

Jimon in omegaverse? Omega!Jace please :D

Hello lovely anon! I hope you enjoy. If you’re not really into mpreg I’m sorry! Feel free to send another ask and I’ll be happy to write you something without it!

Warnings for mpreg, omega Jace, alpha Simon, knotting, bottom Jace and top Simon 

Simon walks into the apartment he shares with his mate, taking his jacket off as he goes. He follows his nose until he finds Jace in their bedroom. He’s wearing one of Simon’s tshirts as he throws random blankets and clothes onto their bed. 

“Jace?”

Jace freezes. He turns slowly, his eyes wide like he’s been caught doing something terrible when in reality, nesting is something Simon expects, especially since Jace is in his third trimester. Simon’s shirt is stretched to its limit around Jace’s round belly. He looks perfect. 

“What’s going on?”

Jace finally moves, tossing another one of Simon’s shirts onto the bed before walking over to Simon. He kisses Simon’s cheek before letting out a sigh. “Today was a bad day.”

“Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Jace nods before leaning his forehead against Simon’s shoulder. Simon’s hands come up to Jace’s hair, running through the long strands. He smiles as Jace slowly begins to lose some of his tension, his scent mellowing out. 

“I’m so fucking sick of desk duty. I tried to get Alec to spar with me but he wouldn’t.”

“Of course he wouldn’t spare with you. You’re pregnant, Jace.”

“You think I’m not aware! I’m the one carrying this baby around, Simon.”

Simon’s arms run up and down Jace’s back, trying to soothe him. “And you’re doing such a good job, Sweetheart.”

Jace groans in frustration. “You’re damn right I am. But that doesn’t help how fucking frustrated I am! I have all this energy that I need to work off but no one will fight me!”

Simon smiles, his chest doing a funny little flutter. Somehow, he falls more and more in love with this omega every single day. If someone had told Simon he’d be mated to someone like Jace even a year ago, he would have laughed in their face. From the outside they shouldn’t work. They’re too different. Yet, somehow they just fit. 

Simon will always be thankful for that fateful night. Their story might not be romantic or swoon worthy but it’s theirs. A one night stand turned into an unplanned pregnancy somehow turned into reluctant dating that merged into something beautiful. Simon loves Jace more than anything and wouldn’t change anything. 

“You know,” Simon murmurs, leaning back so he can look at Jace’s face. “There are other ways to burn off that energy.”

Jace’s face suddenly relaxes, a smirk playing at his lips. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Simon hums before burying his face against Jace’s throat. His nose runs along his scent gland, greedily taking in the scent of Jace, loving how it suddenly spikes with arousal. His lips find Jace’s mating bite, kissing the place his teeth left permanent indents. 

“Simon,” Jace whispers, his voice already sounding breathy with lust. Simon licks across Jace’s throat before nipping at his ear lobe. Jace pushes Simon away and he staggers back, breathing heavily. Simon raises his brow and Jace curses. “Naked. Now.”

Simon rushes to get his clothes off, watching as his omega does the same. They scramble and almost trip a few times but soon enough, Jace is stalking towards him, both completely bare. The glint in Jace’s eyes has Simon’s cock twitching, desire pulsing through his veins. 

What Simon isn’t expecting is for Jace to shove him onto the bed with enough force to make him bounce before climbing onto Simon’s lap. Their hard dicks rub against each other as Jace holds Simon down, moving his hips to tease and torment Simon. 

“Oh god,” Simon gasps out when Jace’s tongue finds his throat. He begins to bite and nip at the skin, worrying it with his teeth, all the while his hips just keep on moving. 

Simon’s hands finally move. He finds Jace’s hips, digging his fingers into Jace’s skin before one hands moves further back. Jace shudders at the first feel of Simon’s fingers. 

As Simon’s finger finds Jace’s hole, Jace takes Simon’s lips in a fierce kiss. Simon moans from the dual sensation of finding his omega so wet and from Jace plunging his tongue into Simon’s mouth. Their tongues run against each other, Jace’s taste flooding Simon’s senses. His finger rubs circles around Jace’s hole, teasing him until Jace pushes back, forcing the finger inside. 

“Fuck,” Jace hisses as he rides his hips back, fucking himself on Simon’s finger. 

Simon loves it when Jace gets like this, chasing his pleasure, using Simon’s body as he sees fit, so lost in it all that he has no worries, no frustrations. He’s beautiful. Jace moans as a second finger is added, scissoring him open. Simon’s fingers are completely covered in slick with how wet his omega is, how turned on Jace is. 

Jace grips both of Simon’s wrists, pulling them away from his body and holding them over Simon’s head. “Enough. I’m ready and fuck, do I need it.”

“Then take it,” Simon says, leaning up enough to place open mouth kisses across Jace’s throat. 

With one hand holding Simon’s wrists against the mattress, Jace uses his other hand to line Simon up before slowly sinking down. He takes all of Simon’s cock without any teasing until his ass is against Simon’s pelvis. Jace throws his head back, tilted up towards the ceiling as he slowly swivels his hips, getting used to the intrusion. 

From Simon’s position, he can see the long line of Jace’s throat, his gorgeously tight chest, and his perfect, rough belly. Simon’s hands itch to touch where his baby is growing, making his mate radiant and glowing, despite what Jace says. 

“Yes. Fuck,” Jace murmurs under his breath as he begins to move, riding Simon’s dick as he sees fit. 

“Jace,” Simon whines as Jace continues to hold him down. “Please.”

Jace smirks down at Simon, his eyes shining omega gold. His fingers tighten around his wrists to the point that Simon’s sure there will be bruises later. It only makes Simon more turned on, his dick throbbing where it’s buried inside of Jace. 

Jace rides him until he’s panting, sweat dripping down his forehead and chest. He lets out a long groan before pulling off of Simon’s cock and flopping onto the bed on his side, his back to Simon. “I’m tired,” he murmurs. “You do the work.”

Simon turns onto his side, spooning up behind Jace. He eases his cock into Jace’s ass, rotating his hips and teasing his omega. When Jace whines, thrusting his hips back, Simon begins to fuck into him with long, hard thrusts, just the way Jace loves. 

Simon’s arms wraps around Jace’s middle, his hand landing on Jace’s large belly. He rubs his hand over the bump, his inner alpha roaring with dominance over being the one to do this, to have claimed his omega so thoroughly. 

“Fuck, Simon,” Jace moans as Simon’s hips pick up speed, the sound of their hips colliding resounding through the room. His hand moves lower, taking Jace’s erection into his palm, stroking him in time with his thrusts. 

“I love you,” Simon gasps out against the back of Jace’s neck. “I love you so much. My beautiful omega.”

“God, Simon,” Jace gets out, his ass tightening around Simon’s cock, his knot beginning to form at the base. “I love you, too. My fucking,” he says between pants, “idiot alpha. Love you. Now fucking knot me.”

Simon smiles against the back of Jace’s neck. Jace will always be bossy and sassy and Simon wouldn’t have it any other way. His knot continues to grow, stretching Jace’s ass wider with every thrust. His omega moans, begging for it, wanting to be tied together. It only takes a few more thrusts until he shoves all the way in, his knot growing too big to pull out. He grinds his hips just right to have Jace squeezing down, milking Simon’s orgasm right out of him. 

“Fuck,” Simon calls out as he comes, filling Jace with his seed and biting down on Jace’s neck. Jace whimpers as his own dick twitches in Simon’s hand, becoming impossibly harder before he finds his own release. 

Simon moans as Jace’s ass throbs around his knot, milking a second orgasm from him. Once he’s calmed enough, Simon lets go of Jace’s cock, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking the cum from his hand. 

Jace groans. “Don’t do that! I’m finally beat and ready to sleep. I don’t need to get frustrated again.”

Simon runs a soothing hand up Jace’s side before kissing his neck. “I’m sorry, angel.”

Jace hums contently, happy to snuggle into his pillows now that he’s got Simon’s knot tying them together. He’ll never admit it but he always sleeps better like this and who’s Simon to deny his omega anything. 

“I love you,” Simon whispers against Jace’s nape. 

“Love you too, Sunshine. Thanks for putting up with my crazy.”

“I’m glad you’re finally able to admit that, Jace. They say admittance is the first step.” Simon grunts as an elbow connects with his ribs. “I’m kidding. I can’t imagine sharing my life with anyone else.”

“Me neither, idiot.”

“Now go to sleep. Once you get a good night’s sleep you can go apologize to Alec for trying to fight him. Again.”

Jace grumbles around a yawn. “Fine. But I’d like it to be noted that I’m doing it against my will.”

“Yes, Dear.” Simon rolls his eyes as he tightens his arms around his omega, one hand resting against his belly. As sleep claims him, Simon wonders how he got so fucking lucky.

[queenburd]

and in the end; chapter 2

When originally writing this chapter, it took a much more aggressive turn than I expected. I think that made it better.

chapter 2: i'm not passive, but aggressive

callbacks and references: ZiM messing with the pipes, Bridge Showdown, Severance Contingency, Space Dork in Trouble

What is SCP-4891?

[TRANSMISSION RECONNECTED. RELAYING...]

[PLAYBACK]

Dib had never been a particularly heavy sleeper, even in the moments where he did finally deign to catch some shut-eye. It was important, after all, to jump to alert when his computer chimed, reminding him to switch on the control lights for his molds, or that his software was finally finished updating. He'd trained himself to have a sharp ear, even in his sleep.

That said, even a heavy sleeper wouldn't have been able to ignore the absolute pounding that would have knocked the front door off its hinges, if not for the many locks.

“Mmguh--”

Dib shot upright without even being fully conscious, instinctively. He shook his head, squinting at the bright blue of his computer screen as if expecting to see a notification, and then nearly jumped a foot into the air as the banging resumed.

He finally scrambled to his feet and was shoving his feet into woolly little slippers when he managed to half-tumble down the stairs. There was shouting outside, though it was still dark. For Glob's sake, was that another neighbor angry about ZiM's messing with the water systems? He had already talked to him about that, if ZiM had started it up again there was basically no hope in it sticking.

“Dib!” He heard more clearly when he began to undo the door's security. “For god's sake—hurry up!”

That—Dib pulled back, blinking in astonishment. That was May, he was fairly certain, and a peek through the peephole confirmed. She looked frantic in the small fish-eye view, hands buried in her hair before she raised her fist to bang on the door again.

“Hang on!” He said hastily, doubling his attempts to unlock the door. When it finally swung open, there were no greetings; May swooped past him without so much as a glance and stormed to the stairs that led to the basement.

“May—huh—hang on!” Anxiously, Dib pursued her down the stairs. “What's going on?! Wuh-What's happening?” Still no response. Instead, May pushed through the portal without pause.

Dib hesitated a moment, looking himself over. His sleeping attire wasn't by any means something he was ashamed of; who could be ashamed of a sweatshirt with ghosts on it? The slippers were less appropriate.

Dib considered running up the stairs and finding his boots, and how long that would take. Grimacing, teeth digging into his bottom lip, he followed May through the blue-green disk.

Though it was still the darkness before twilight and dawn, the lights in Bonnie's lab were all on. He blinked hard, eyes narrowed into slits he could barely see through. “Mmn. What's going on? May?”

His eyes adjusted to take in the pacing figure, who was texting in a panic without looking up to the others in the room. Simon met Dib's gaze, and grimaced from where he was sitting on the edge of Bonnibel's table. As for the scientist herself, she was leaning against the door, seemingly less interested in the whole matter.

“Guh,” the bird finally said, shoving her phone into her pocket and pulling her thumb to her mouth to bite the nail, without pause. “Okay. Texted Mab. Okay. Okay okay.”

“May,” Simon said carefully. “Talk to us. I got your text but you didn't explain anything, we can't help if you don't--”

“Shut up, shut up, I'm thinking. Words are fucking hard Simon, I can barely breathe.” Certainly, May was nearly hyperventilating. Her face was contorted somewhere between rage and... tears, Dib realized. He stood up straighter, and crossed the room to take May by the forearms, and pull her hands out of her short hair, where they had buried themselves.

Dib was one of the few people that could do this when May went into a poor state, if only because she cared about him so much that she couldn't be mad at him for being near her. The only other person he knew was able to do this was--

Something cold ran down Dib's spine.

“May,” he said, hushed. “Where's Kass.”

The expression on May's face twisted again. She pulled her body inward, as though cringing hard.

“We—We were, we were out hunting something, and he—and they—Dib, they took him!”

His gut rolled hard. Dib nearly heaved, and then asked, already knowing the answer; “Who took Kass?”

Her mouth twisted and opened, like she was screaming, but no noise came out. Finally, May inhaled loudly.

“The Foundation,” she told him, voice cracking.

Dib looked back at Simon. He didn't know what his face looked like right now, but if it was anything resembling Simon's, it looked ghastly.

“We were,” May started again, her voice just barely a bit more steady, “we were hunting something, by that, that glass factory. Where all those homeless people would go? With the bad gate? Because,” she inhaled loudly again, “they were going missing. So, so we went to check it out, and then there was a dead agent, and then we were hiding, and he stuck me in the vent and, and he—nnnuh--”

She seemed to relive the moments, and in doing so, her panic became more angry. Startled, Dib stepped back, out of range. This was probably for the best, because she was radiating heat, brows furrowed and teeth bared.

“He just—the fucking idiot, told me not to be a hero, the fucking hypocrite! Who the fuck does he think he is?!”

Dib cast Simon a panicked look, but Simon wasn't looking at him. Simon was focused on the angry form in the middle of the room, with the face he made when he was deep in thought.

“And then he calls me the idiot!” May continued, undaunted, striding to one of the work tables to shove its contents aside. “When we both could have gotten out, he just stared at me like, like he just gave up, and fuck him! Fuck that!”

Here, Bonnibel stepped forward, if only to save the instruments that were being cruelly knocked about. She looked none too happy about it, but it was Simon who finally moved forward into line of fire.

“May, I get it, I seriously do, but we gotta keep our heads on. Come on, is there anything you remember?”

She snapped her head up to him, her hands on the table, as though holding her up. For a moment she was silent, fuming, and then she spoke, as though spitting the words out.

“He said—he said he'd lead them off. But he didn't need to, we could have both made it out, and he made up some bullshit excuse about the vent not holding his weight, and—fuck, Simon,” she interrupted herself, shoving her hand into her hoodie's pocket and slammed the item she pulled out onto the table. It made a vicious noise of plastic and metal on metal.

It was Kass's gun.

“He, he shoved it in with me and just left. Why would he do that?”

Simon glanced back to Dib. Dib bit into his lower lip.

Of all of them, Kass was undoubtedly the most terrified of the Foundation, and with good reason. After two decades in their system, he knew what it contained, and what the people trained in it were capable of. He had, after all, been one of them, and while it was hard to claim Kass was the most loyal, he was certainly one of the more capable.

Of them all, Kass was also arguably the most cowardly, and the most likely to throw others under the bus to save his own hide. Hell, that had happened, just not in his favor. So for Kass to claim to lead the trail away, and leave his firearm behind with someone else?

It was not very much like the Kass Dib knew. He had a funny feeling that the look Simon was giving him was along the same line of thought.

Dib was not a very empathetic person. It wasn't that he didn't care for others, it was more that he didn't know very well how to see the world in another person's eyes. He only had his own life to compare it to, and trying to compare his life to the life of someone like Kass filled his mouth with a sour taste.

But—and it was a bitter memory—he remembered the bridge. He remembered the fear rolling through his stomach for someone else, if the Foundation found them. Dee had been totally unaware of the awful thing Dib had been preparing her for, she had no way of knowing what would have happened to her there. But for him, the knowledge was torture, so much so that he couldn't help but do something about it. He couldn't let anything bad happen to her, or Simon or Mab or Gunter. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Dib looked from Simon, back to May, who was staring at the gun with a furrowing brow and wavering lip.

The thought trying to form in his head seemed so impossible that it was having trouble coming together. Still, he forced himself to look at the facts.

Kass had been in a situation with another person, where the Foundation had appeared. Kass had chosen to arm the other person and place himself in line of fire, of the Foundation, the thing he was terrified of.

Simon, helpfully, finally put together the words that Dib was trying to string together in his mind.

“He didn't want them to find you. He wanted to keep you safe, May.”

May said nothing, her head still down. There was a tension in the air, thick enough to cut through, before she finally spoke.

“I'm getting him back.”

Dib went stiff.

“He's a fucking idiot and he should know better,” she continued, picking the gun back up and shoving it into her hoodie. “And I swear, I swear to fucking god, I'm going to storm in there myself and bring him back, if only to kill him myself for being so fucking stupid.”

“May--” Simon began, before Dib's hand pushed him aside to stride forward and grab May by the shoulder.

“No you're not. You are not going in there.”

May slapped Dib's hand off her, twisting, her expression fierce. “I am, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Yeah? Nothing I can do?”

“Dib,” Simon started, “don't--”

“So what, you're just going to walk in and take him? Oh yeah, just gonna walk into Site 17, just here to pick up my belongings, thanks, bye? Just like that?”

“So what if I do?!” May shot back. “I'm not fucking scared of the Foundation, Dib!”

“Well you should be!” His voice was raising, and he wasn't trying to tower over May, but he had grown so much in the past year, and she stepped back as he encroached her space. “You walk in there, tear the roof off the place, and they will never stop looking for you, and they will find you, and you will just be there. You want to spend the rest of your life in a small empty room, being poked and prodded and glob knows what else?”

“I will kill anyone who gets in my way,”

“There's always more! There's always more! You know what,” Dib shot, his hand outstretched to stop Simon, who was trying to approach and defuse the situation, “I'm glad Kass got caught, because it wasn't you.”

There was no pause between the spread of rage in May's face and her throwing herself at him, grabbing Dib by the shirt. She didn't weigh much, but she had momentum on her side, and his knees buckled to bring them to eye level.

“You,” she said, voice trembling in rage, “don't know anything. You've never let go of your fucking grudge, and I said that was fucking fine. I put up with that shit! But you do not get to have a say in who I keep safe, you stupid brat.”

She let go of him, pushing him back and stepping away. “That man is a person, same as you, same as me, and I'm done letting you shit on him when he's there, when he's in the worst place in the world. You don't get to be spiteful, Dib. Not in front of me.”

They were both panting, he realized through the haze of anger and fear as he picked himself off the ground.

“That's not what I said,” he said, lowly. “It's not about Kass.”

“Oh?” She scoffed, disbelief in her voice. “Isn't it?”

“No,” Dib said, his eyes narrowed. Stay calm. Don't get angry again. Simon was at his side, standing between them. “It's not about him. It's about you.”

“What about me?”

Dib inhaled deeply, and Simon spoke in his place. “May, you have never faced the Foundation. Not once. Knowing they're a threat is not the same as knowing what they are capable of.”

May grimaced, but Simon continued, undeterred, “You have always said you could handle it, but you don't know that for a fact. What if you can't? What if you try, and lose? Do you think Kass would want that?”

“Nn,” was the response they were given, watching May shove her hands back into her hair. “Don't do that, don't.”

“He did that so it wouldn't be you.”

“But I didn't ask him to! I didn't want him to!” Dib could see her at conflict, the fury turning to anxiety again. “I can't just leave him there!”

He inhaled again, deeply, and then said, quite clearly, “I am not telling you to leave him there.”

It caught her off guard. Simon turned to Dib, but he was watching her eyes dance from the floor to his face, totally vulnerable. “You're not?”

“No,” he said again, “I'm not.”

“But--” she said softly, confused, as Dib crossed the room again and, far more gently than before, placed his hands on her shoulders.

“What I'm saying is, you're not doing this by yourself.”

“Yeah,” Simon said, beside him, the three of them in their small circle. “You think I would just leave that jerk to rot in the Foundation, after all this time of making sure his butt doesn't get caught? It's almost a matter of pride at this point.”

Dib almost snorted. May made a small noise like an exhale, sniffling as Simon fluffed her hair fondly.

“We're gonna get him out together, May,” Dib said, meeting her eyes. “But if we're doing this, we're going to need a plan.”

-

Dawn had broken by the time Kass had returned to consciousness. The drive to Site-17 was a long one, as it always had been, and he had little more to do than examine his thoughts.

It was not a pleasant experience. Being alone with his thoughts had never served Kass well in the past, and now was no different. He opted, instead, somewhere between the hours, to think of more pleasant things.

While the van curved and sunlight leaked through the small crevice above his head, painting light on the wall across from him, he recalled the water hose he'd aimed cruelly at his housemate on the hottest day of the summer. She'd chased him around the lawn, looking like a fluffy bird who'd gotten caught in a downpour. He had cackled for hours, even as she'd finally caught him and turned the thing on him, turning him into the equivalent of a wet cat.

When Kass was hauled out of the back of the truck, his hands twisted behind his back and his head pushed low, he was considering the silly moments where she would compare the size and structure of their hands with an inexplicable fascination. He still had never understood, despite her trying to show him in her drawings, how the personality of a person could be seen in their wrists and knuckles.

As he was processed into the facility, Kass had to double his efforts. He focused on the memory of finally cleaning himself up and letting someone else fix his hair, which had gotten so long in the years, instead of thinking about the hair falling on his face and the razor on his scalp. He tried very hard to recall the smell of clean laundry while he was handed ghastly orange fabric and ordered to change.

He had gotten good at disassociating, compartmentalizing through the years. He was almost able to ignore the absolute terror that left his joints stiff when he walked through the familiar dark halls of Site-17. Yet it became impossible to continue that line of thought when the agent that was escorting Kass chose not to lead him down to the D-Class level, but instead opted to weave deeper into the facility.

“Hey, rookie,” he said sharply, forcing panic to not slip into his tone. “You're going the wrong way, dipshit. D-Class cells are two levels down.”

The agent stopped, and turned. He grinned at Kass, like a leer. It took Kass an embarrassingly long moment (they had taken his glasses) to process, before whatever blood that had remained in his face drained entirely.

“Christwanker,” he said, hollowly.

“There's been a change in schedule,” Harper said pleasantly, checking his pager as if to confirm something. “You're needed in the Sigma Sector, Agent Kass.”

They were sending him directly into scip experimentation chambers. Fuck, but he was an unlucky bastard.

“You know,” the smug agent continued as he pushed Kass forward again, “when we got the report that you were coming in, and you weren't sending trucks flying off the road somehow, we started the betting pool right away. Do me a favor, and survive till day four, would you? I've got sixty dollars on you getting lost in SCP-4891.”

Breathing was becoming very difficult for Kass. He was ushered further down, down, pushed through doors and halls, until Harper pushed him into a dark room with an examination window. His cuffs were undone, and then he was abandoned there, waiting.

Well. He was well and properly dickmunched.

Use proper English, for Christ's sake, he could hear her swear, like a little whisper. He laughed pathetically, unable to help himself.

Right. Kass stood straight, waiting at the door by the examination window, clenching his jaw to a tightness that hurt. D-Class personnel. He may have been screwed, but he didn't have to go down without a fight. If there was anything Kass was good at, it was making life hell for others, scip and human alike.

The door slid open, filling the doorway with light. Kass narrowed his eyes with a grimace, braced himself, and stepped into the containment room.

[TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED—RECONNECTING...]

[alwayscarryonjily]

Still Rockin’ Your Hoodie, Baby, Even Though it Hurts

I’m still lying in my bed when Fiona carries a cardboard box into my room around 3:00pm. She drops the box next to my feet and it turns on its side, tipping its contents over the duvet. I twist my neck around so that I can look at the various objects just as she rips open the curtains. The late autumn sun streams through the window, blinding my eyes that haven’t seen light in perhaps three days? I think it’s Tuesday, but it could easily be Wednesday or Thursday.

“Basil, it’s time to get up and stop being pathetic. When I let you move in, I did not sign up for a moping emo kid,” Fiona says. “This is the last box of crap your friend Bunce dropped off yesterday. I figured I’d give you a while before dumping it on you.”

I push myself up and wipe the dried tears from the corners of my eyes. “Bunce? Did she say anything about Simon?”

My breath catches in my throat until I meet her eyes. She shakes her head and I let the air escape from my lungs.

“I’m sorry, kid.” She turns towards the door but pauses. “It’s take-out night. If you don’t come out for food, I’m dragging your ass back to your father’s house.”

I twist in my duvet after the door closes and watch as a book falls from the bed onto the floor. It looks like a psychology textbook, but I don’t take psychology. Simon does. I grab the book that’s lying next to my foot. It’s a biology textbook. Yet another course I don’t take. I lift the box and the array of colourful clothing that greets me tells me that this isn’t my box. Bunce delivered Simon’s last box, not mine. I want to believe she did it on purpose, trying to get me to speak to Simon and fix things, but she’s not that kind of person. I know this was a mistake. I reach for a pink sleeve and pull it towards me. T-shirts, socks and a scarf are pulled out of the box with the hoodie and I pick them off, placing them carefully back in the box. I lift the hoodie up by its shoulders and stare at it. It’s the one I bought Simon for his birthday last year. The pink one with the white blossoms on the sleeves and the circle of fairies on the back. ­I drop my head into my knees and pull the material up to my face. Tears fall from my eyes and catch on the pink fabric. It still smells like smoke and baking; like Simon. I sit there for another hour, letting Simon’s hoodie muffle my sobs. Fiona knocks on my door once, but she walks away when I don’t answer, although I know she’ll be back if I don’t make an appearance before dinner arrives.

I let myself take five more minutes to get myself together before I pull myself out of bed. My legs struggle to hold my weight steadily, but I make my way to my dresser. I pull out a pair of sweatpants, some new underwear (cause lord knows I need it) and a black tank top. My bladder is near bursting and I reek of sweat after not showering for days. I know Fiona wouldn’t appreciate having a sweaty 19-year-old sitting in her kitchen any more than she must like having a mopey emo kid sulking in her spare bedroom, so I spend the next half hour in the bathroom. When I return to my room to throw my clothes in the laundry basket my eye catches on Simon’s hoodie. I reach to pick it up and press it to my face, inhaling Simon’s scent.  My nose rubs against an old cigarette burn under the collar and the teeth of the zipper scratch my cheek.

“Basil, if you want anything in particular you better get out here soon!” Fiona yells.

I pull my face away from the hoodie and look towards the door, even though I know it’s closed and that Fiona will be looking through a pile of take-out menus. I glance back at the lump of pink in my hands before pulling it on, up and over my arms.

-

When I enter the living room of Fiona’s small London flat I instantly spot her sitting cross-legged on the breakfast bar. She has her nose stuck in a menu for one of the Indian restaurants down the street. Her feet are covered in various take-out menus from restaurants in the flat’s general area. I saunter over to her and pick up one of the Chinese restaurant menus.

“Can I have honey roast chicken, pork dumplings and chicken-corn soup if I go pick everything up?” I ask before dropping the menu back on her feet and walking over to one of the two sofas.

“If you help with the bill,” she replies, looking up with a smirk as I drop onto the couch.

I narrow my eyes and stick my tongue out. She winks before dropping off the edge of the counter and reaching for the phone. She dials and orders from the local Pizza Hut. I roll my eyes at her Hawaiian pizza and large coke. She hangs up and turns to me with her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow.

“You have such cultured taste.”

Fiona glares at my words and picks up a menu. I can’t read what restaurant it’s for, but I’m willing to bet it isn’t McDonald’s. She picks up the phone again and dials.

“Hi, can I place an order of mango chicken and tikka masala for Fiona. Yeah, thanks.” She glares at me as she puts the phone down. “Have fun picking up food from three restaurants, Fiona.”

I sneer at her back as she stalks out of the room, chuckling to herself. I spot my cell phone on the coffee table in front of me, the shattered screen still present. I really should have asked Fiona to get it fixed for me. I reach over and pick it up, pressing the on/off button as I lift it towards my face. The screen lights up and through the shattered glass I can see the lock screen; a selfie of Simon and I from our one-year anniversary dinner three months ago. Simon’s cuddled into my side on the floor of our old apartment. He’s holding the phone while reaching up to kiss my neck and I’m smiling at the phone in his hand. He has sauce all over one side of his face and a few pieces of rice stuck to the corner of his mouth. I know there are stains on the shirt he wore that night from all the food he dropped down his front and Penny wouldn’t speak to us the next day because we reeked of garlic. But we were happy that night. We were happy together.

“I haven’t heard you leave yet, and it’s a half hour walk down the street!” Fiona yells from her room.

I sit up, wiping a tear from my cheek with the pad of my thumb and rub a pink sleeve over my eyes. I drop the phone on the couch as I stand and take a shaky breath.

“You left yet?” She yells again.

“Jeez, you’re impatient! I’m leaving now!” I yell back.

I reach around my door frame on my way to the front door to grab a pair of shoes and shove my feet into them while I grab my coat and keys. I pocket the cash Fiona had in her coat pocket and check I have some cash in my own. I yell a goodbye to Fiona before the door closes behind me when I step out into the hallway.

-

I’m struggling down the street with Fiona’s two bags of food and my own when I see the head of bronze curls ahead of me. I stumble and almost drop everything over the pavement. Someone knocks into my shoulder as I readjust the bags in my hands. My eyes drift upwards and look for the mop of brown hair down the street. I spot the person walking towards me, bobbing through the crowd of people. I consider my options; continue walking towards them or cross the street and run like a wimp on the grounds that the person is possibly Simon. I take one step in front of me and bolt across the street, weaving through the backed-up traffic.

I barely stop running from that spot on the street to Fiona’s apartment door. I take a few minutes in the hallway to catch my breath before I open the door. Fiona’s sitting on the couch watching some American reality show and eating popcorn.

“I wasn’t even gone an hour and you couldn’t wait?” I roll my eyes as I drop the food on the table by the door and shrug off my coat.

“Hey! I’m old. I need my sustenance. I can’t be waiting around for melancholic teenagers to get home to give me food.”

I carry the bags of food over to the coffee table and dump them in front of her. She shoots me a smug grin as she reaches for her pizza box and I aim my middle finger at her, mimicking her grin. The smell of the garlic in my dumplings wafts towards me as I rip open the paper bag. The sounds from Fiona’s shitty reality show continue as we unpack our food.

“Are we having a movie night or are you going to subject me to this colonial rubbish?” I ask from the kitchen while grabbing some cutlery for us.

“If we can watch a Disney movie I’ll turn this off and save your poor brain cells from further destruction.”

I throw a plastic fork and spoon at her and reach for her laptop to open her movie files.

“Well the only ones you have downloaded are Frozen and Tangled, so your pick I guess,” I say through a spoonful of soup.

She turns to me with an evil grin on her face. I watch as she takes a sip from her coke before she says, “Frozen.”

“Why did I know you’d say that?” I groan, leaning away from the dumpling on the table that I was about to eat.

-

I glance over at Fiona as the end credits start to roll. She’s snoring into her half empty pizza box and is hugging her coke (which has spilled all over the couch) to her chest. I reach across to her sofa and grab the remote from the arm of the couch, clicking the television into silence before closing the lid of her laptop too. I pull the blanket from the back of the chair I’d been sitting in and drape it over her. She shifts as the woolen weight settles over her, but her eyes remain closed. I sneak around the apartment, putting whatever food we didn’t eat in the fridge for tomorrow’s lunch – or breakfast in Fiona’s case. I check to make sure she isn’t being smothered by the pizza she’s using as a pillow before escaping to my room. I change into some sweatpants, keeping Simon’s hoodie on, and pull out my laptop before climbing into bed. When I open it and the screen lights up the first thing I see is the notification from Facebook in the bottom corner of the screen informing me that I have a message from Penelope Bunce. I click the notification, letting it take me to Facebook. Messenger opens, and Bunce’s chat pops up.

Hey, how are you doing? Do you want me to send you the economics notes you’ve missed?

I consider not gracing her messages with a reply, but the message was sent two days ago, and despite her loyalty to Simon, I know she wouldn’t want to think that I’m miserable. So, I type a quick reply and close the tab, instead opening my emails. A collection of emails from my lecturers appears on the screen, all of them containing links to Google Docs that my classmates have filled with homework and class discussions, none of which I have shared my usually obnoxious opinion in. I close the tab and shut the screen, placing my laptop on the bedside table before turning off the lamp beside me and burying down into my blankets.

I’m half asleep when my laptop makes a noise, letting me know that I have a new notification. I reach for my laptop and open the lid. I click on the notification and my emails open.

Hey Baz, are you okay? I just want you to know that I’m sorry.

I want to type a reply, but my vision becomes blurred by tears and I have to delete the email from Simon. I close my laptop for the second time in the past half hour and slide it across the floor, so it rests as far from my bed as it can get. I curl into a ball, pressing my face into my pillow and fall asleep to the sounds of my own sobs.

-

When I emerge from my room around twelve the next day, Fiona is eating my leftovers. She’s trying to be sneaky about it by hiding behind the fridge door, but I can see her perfectly well from the doorway to the kitchen. I clear my throat and place a hand on my hip. She jerks back from the fridge, sending rice scattering across the floor. Her eyes narrow when she sees me, and she quickly swallows her mouthful.

“That’s your fault,” she says, pointing at the rice on the floor. “You can clean it up.”

She laughs and goes back to eating my food when I flash my middle finger at her. I grab the half broom and shovel from below the sink and start collecting the rice from the floor.

I feel Fiona’s eyes on me before she says, “Didn’t you wear that hoodie yesterday? I didn’t know you knew what colours were.”

“Of course, I know what colours are. I did take art in high school, you know,” I reply, not looking at her.

I hear a rustle of clothes and the sound of a container being placed on a shelf before the fridge door closes. I turn and see Fiona leaning against the wall. She has an eyebrow raised as if to say, are you gonna cut the shit or am I going to have to rip it out of you? I glare at her but feel myself wanting to tell her where it came from and why I’m wearing it, but I can see the pitying look in her eyes and I don’t want that sympathy to transfer to her face.

“It’s just something I found in my wardrobe.” The lie rolls right off my tongue and leaves a sour taste in my mouth as well as a prickling behind my eyes.

She makes an mhmm noise before opening the fridge again and pulling out my dumplings.

“Hurry up so that I don’t have to eat all your food.”

I grin at her, sweep up the last of the rice and tip the floor scrapings in the shovel into the bin. Fiona takes the lead walking into the lounge and I follow, dropping into the same seat I sat in last night. Fiona, too, sits in the same place she did last night. She seems to have cleaned up a bit because her pizza box pillow is gone and the couch she spilled coke on no longer has a dark brown stain. Although it wouldn’t have mattered whether she’d done something to fix the stain when you consider the dozens of other stains on the furniture around the apartment. She reaches over and offers me the container of dumplings. I take a few and let her claim the rest for herself.

“Does your cloak of darkness fit over that hoodie? It looks a bit big,” Fiona says through a mouthful of dumpling.

I furrow my eyebrows and cock my head slightly to the side, trying to express my confusion without speaking with my food-filled mouth. She rolls her eyes at the manners I display (courtesy of my upbringing) but elaborates on her question.

“Does your leather jacket fit over the hoodie? Or are you turning into a pastel-loving cinnamon roll? Because if so, I want first dibs on the black clothes you’re abandoning.”

“No, I’m not turning into a cinnamon roll. And how do you even know what a cinnamon roll is?” I shove another dumpling in my mouth while she answers.

“I spend more time on the internet than you do, or did you forget that some of us adults can actually use technology, unlike that father of yours.” She places her last bite of dumpling in her mouth and turns around to check the clock on the wall. “I have to go. I’m meeting someone. There’s still food in the fridge if I’m not back later. What am I saying? You’re an adult. Take care of yourself. That isn’t my responsibility anymore.”

“What time will you be back?” I ask, reaching out to take the empty container from her.

She stands as she shrugs and says, “Dunno. If I’m not back by four call me using the house phone, but I probably won’t be longer than an hour. Oh, did you want me to get your phone screen fixed while I’m out?”

I look at the couch cushions that I know my phone is hidden between and shrug. “Couldn’t hurt I guess.”

She reaches between the cushions and pulls it out. How she knew where it was is beyond me, although she was sleeping there so it’s highly likely that she felt it digging into her stomach while she was snoring into her pizza pillow.

“Wow, this screen really is a mess. How did you manage to shatter it this much?”

I shrug again, opting to irritate her rather than tell her that I threw it at a wall during the fight with Simon. She glares at me but comes over to kiss the top of my head before leaving me alone in the apartment. I look around the room and decide that I should probably start catching up on all the lectures I’ve missed, so I collect my laptop and a blanket from my room and return to the couch in the hopes of having a study afternoon.

-

My head jerks forward, throwing me out of my dream and I blink slowly. My computer is still in front of me, open on an economics Google Doc. I meant to read through the notes my classmates had left, but I don’t remember any of what’s in front of me, so I assume that I fell asleep soon after turning on my laptop. My earplugs are miraculously still in my ears and the Fall Out Boy album I’d been listening to is still playing. I pause the song currently playing and pull the earplugs out of my ears. As soon as they leave my ears, I hear the ringing of the phone. I jump up, almost dropping my laptop and race over to the phone. I turn back to the clock by the door as I take the phone off the hook on the wall and press it to my ear. The clock reads three seventeen, so I didn’t sleep for very long and there’s no sign that Fiona’s returned but I don’t have to worry about that for another hour or so.

“Hello?” A voice asks.

I forgot that the phone was pressed to my ear for a reason.

“Hey. Hi. This is Baz.”

“Baz, hey. It’s Penny. I’ve been calling for the past hour,” the voice says.

“Hey. How are you? Is everything alright?” I can’t help asking; Bunce never calls me. She rarely even texts me. She’s more of an email person, and even then, she doesn’t tend to use that either.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to check you’d got the box of stuff I dropped off? You didn’t say anything about it in your Messenger reply.”

I think about the box of Simon’s things sitting in my room and the hoodie that I’m currently wearing. “Actually, Bunce, you gave me the wrong box. You gave me Simon’s stuff.”

There’s a pause on the other end and for a second, I think I hear voices, but then Bunce says, “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Um,” There’s another pause. “Well, do you want to maybe meet me somewhere, so I can switch the boxes?”

I think about how switching the boxes means I’ll have to give Simon’s hoodie back, and then I think about how selfish that is. The hoodie belongs to Simon. He loved it. I can’t take that from him.

“Yeah. I can meet you later today if that’s fine?” I ask, knowing I won’t be going anywhere else for the rest of the day.

“Actually, I have a meeting with one of my lecturers and I’m meeting, uh, I’m meeting Simon and Agatha for dinner with Micah,” She says, and I have to force myself to take a shaky breath.

Of course, Simon is going out and enjoying himself. He’s probably glad to be rid of me; the pathetic, boring boyfriend that always kept him from doing the things he wanted to do.

“Okay, well I should probably go to work tomorrow, but I can meet you afterwards? If you don’t have any afternoon lectures, that is?”

There’s a pause on the other end and I think I hear voices again before Bunce speaks. “Yeah that should be fine. Do you want to meet at the coffee shop by your work?”

I agree to meet her there at four and say goodbye before hanging up. I put the phone back on the hook and take a few steps into the living room until the phone rings again. I sigh and reach around to pick it up, not bothering to greet the caller; it’s probably Bunce calling again to double check our plans are good. But the voice on the other end doesn’t belong to Penelope Bunce.

“Hello?” A deeper, male voice says.

My breath catches in my throat and my stomach drops.

“Is anyone there?” Simon pauses. “Baz? Are you there?”

My throat starts to burn with the lack of oxygen in my lungs and I force myself to take a shallow breath. Simon sighs on the other end.

“Baz, I just wanted to find out if a box of my things ended up with yours. I’m missing a few textbooks that I need for exams… Well, text Penny if you find them. Bye. I miss you.”

The silence that follows on the other end tells me he hung up. I place the phone back on the hook for the second time in the past few minutes and continue my earlier path into the lounge. I drop back into the sofa and move my laptop on the coffee table; I can’t handle the thought of studying right now. I curl into a ball and press my shoulder against the back of the chair. I hold in the tears, but I can’t keep the uneven breaths from racking my chest. I close my eyes and let myself fall into a restless sleep.

-

A hand on my shoulder brings me out of unconsciousness. I open my eyes and see the apartment lit up by the lamps around the room. The kitchen light is on and through the window I can see that it’s dark outside. I look up into Fiona’s grey eyes and see the concern in her eyes vanish behind a mask of impatience. She leans away from me and places her hands on her hips.

“Take out was last night, so tonight’s cooking night and I don’t want to burn anything, so I need a supervisor,” she says simply before vanishing into the kitchen.

I look at the clock and see that I slept for roughly five hours. Well, I won’t be sleeping well later. I peel myself out of the couch and join my aunt in the kitchen.

“Is it curry night then?” I ask when I see the various assortment of spices littering the bench.

“Mhmm,” Fiona replies absentmindedly as she examines the types of rice in the cupboard.

“We only have brown rice and jasmine rice, and you like being healthy when we cook. Get out the brown rice,” I say while rolling my eyes.

She flashes her middle finger at me over her shoulder and pulls out the bag of brown rice. She grabs a pot from one of the cupboards and fills it with water. I lean across the breakfast bar and turn the radio on. When I look around at Fiona she’d dancing to the WHAM! song that’s currently playing. We spend the night dancing around the kitchen to the radio while we cook.

I wake up the next morning in my room to my alarm going off for work. The alarm clock reads seven am. I sit up, pulling the duvet with me, and turn the alarm off before it wakes Fiona up from down the hall. I change into a pair of black jeans and an MCR shirt before pulling Simon’s hoodie over my arms. I shove my arms into my rain jacket at the front door and carry the box of Simon’s things down the hall and out onto the street. I place it carefully in the back room when I get to work and clock in. My co-worker for the day is a girl called Trixie. I let her take counter duty and instead start restocking the shelves in the science fiction/fantasy section. We take our lunch break behind the counter because our manager, an older woman named Miss Possibelf, went out for lunch with her sister and needed us to mind the store while we eat. Trixie’s girlfriend, Keris, visits after our break and I tell Trixie that I’ll close the store for her, so she can get off early. I sit behind the counter, opening and closing the tray on the cash register while staring religiously at the clock on the computer screen.

When the time finally reads three thirty I sit up and start packing up the shop for the day. The sign reads ‘Closed’ and the lights are all off when I leave ten minutes later. I carry Simon’s box to the café down the street and order a pumpkin mocha breve before choosing a corner table. I consider taking Simon’s hoodie off and putting it in the box, but it’s only Penny that’s meeting me and it’s not like she’d judge me. I pull my phone out and start writing a text to Penelope, but the door opening makes me look up.

I catch a glimpse of bronze curls before my eyes meet blue ones. A wave of emotion sweeps over me and I find myself struggling to my feet.

“Baz,” Simon says at the same time I say, “Simon.”

I watch as his eyes drift down and focus on the hoodie I’m wearing. His hoodie. I feel my cheeks heat as I rush to take it off.

“Baz- uh, you don’t- don’t worry about it,” he says, and I stop wrestling with the hoodie.

“Sorry. I assume you want your stuff back?” I notice he carries a cardboard box under his arm, presumably containing my own lost things.

He nods.

We stand there for a few seconds just taking each other in, then we both rush to speak.

“Do you want to-”

“I assume you want-”

“Sorry,” we mutter at the same time.

I sit back down awkwardly and pick up my drink to occupy my hands. Simon looks at the counter for a second and turns back to me.

“I’m just gonna go get a, uh, drink,” he says. “I’ll just leave this here.”

He puts his box on one of the chairs opposite me and walks towards the counter. He comes back a couple of minutes later with his own pumpkin mocha breve. He sits down in the other chair on the other side of the table and looks up at me with those blue eyes. Fuck.

I clear my throat and nod towards the cardboard box on the floor next to me. “I guess you know Bunce accidentally gave us the wrong boxes.”

Simon opens his mouth and closes it again. I cock my head to the side and furrow my eyebrows.

“What?” I ask.

“Penny did that on purpose. I thought you knew.”

I narrow my eyes and start planning the email I’m going to send her later. Simon grimaces across the table and lifts his hand slightly, as if he was going to reach for my own, but he drops it again.

“That’s your plotting face. Forget about Pen. She just wanted us to talk and sort this out,” he says, still grimacing, worried eyes trained on my face.

I catch myself clenching my hands around my cup and force myself to loosen my grip. “What is there to talk about? We broke up.”

Simon winces and recoils slightly in his chair at the words. My hand twitches, wanting to reach out and grasp his own, to rub circles on the back of his hand and comfort him. I remove my hands from my cup and lace them together in my lap to resist the urge.

“I’m sorry, Baz. I regret everything that happened that night. I’m so, so sorry.”

I watch as his eyes glaze over and he looks down at the table to avoid eye contact with me. This time I can’t help it when my hands untangle, and one reaches across the table to grab Simon’s hand. I lift our interlocked hands to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. His head tilts up and our eyes meet while I continue pressing my lips to his hand. I watch as he smiles at me and he pulls our hands away from my mouth, lifting them towards his own and kissing my knuckles.

In this moment, I know everything is going to be fine between us.

[pheacas]

“The Musical Fandom is Sexist” Response Post

I saw a post trying to express the thought that the musical fandom is sexist because there was a lack of f/f ships from @justiceforalanabeck, and although there is something in there, the execution was lackluster, at best, and I thought I would quickly run down a couple of reasons why I find that argument to be weak and a (slightly) more structured argument for my own personal opinion.

Original post (for reference I just didn’t want to reblog because it’s so long and there’s no ‘keep reading’ option on it): https://justiceforalanabeck.tumblr.com/post/182985916366/the-sexism-in-musical-fandoms

Summary of my thoughts I put at the end: There is a clear and slightly unsettling ratio between m/m and f/f ships within fandoms, but the ‘ships’ are not the end all be all of a fandom being ‘sexist’ and shows with women leads deserve more love, but there is still plenty of content created for the women that shouldn’t be discredited because it isn’t ‘ship related’.

My (6) main arguments against the original post:

I’ve heard people argue that Pinkberry is ‘toxic’ (which I can make an argument for just about any ship in popular fandoms), which can certainly keep it from becoming popular.  Although Jeremy and Michael have some toxic interactions in the show, particularly the middle, they’re clearly there for one another at the end of the day and are best friends and have nice relationships (although I’m indifferent on almost all BMC ships).  Chloe tried to screw Brooke’s boyfriend against his will and made Brooke not just feel like shit in that one instance, but constantly put Brooke down in general which she didn’t deserve.

Within the canon universe of Dear Evan Hansen, Zoe and Alana (Zolana) have zero canon interaction in the Broadway run.  Literally zero (unless you could the couple of audios where they interact for a moment in Arena Stage which I wouldn’t count since almost no one has actually listened to it).  I’m personally not a fan of Evan x Connor, but when it comes to it vs. Zolana, they at least interact for a moment in canon, and in the computer lab there is an opportunity where Connor does truly seem to be attempting to befriend Evan and it is established that, yes, they could have probably actually been friends if Connor hadn’t read Evan’s letter to himself and/or Evan didn’t bring Zoe up in it (although they would have still never gotten into a relationship).  Also, in canon, Zoe and Evan’s relationship is built completely by lies on Evan’s side, which is, again, extremely toxic (although it is a ship I prefer to Tree Bros outside of canon).  And also, it’s hard to say that the fandom is being sexist when that’s literally the only f/f ship, until you want to get into Heidi x Cynthia which is extremely weird territory.

The two shows you focused on have a male lead who the entire plot is centered around and focuses mainly on (with Michael also getting a good amount of solo time and being able to be called one of the ‘main characters’ along with Jeremy, Christine, and the Squip), so obviously the male lead is going to be more paired with people than other characters who don’t get as much focus on how they interact (in DEH we don’t go away from Evan’s perspective other than Anybody Have a Map and Requiem, which are Murphy family songs so no shipping there, and whenever we stray from Jeremy I feel like it’s more Michael’s part most of the time).

Heathers has never had a Broadway run and doesn’t have a long running production, so it makes sense it wouldn’t be ‘as popular’, although it certainly does have a fandom, it’s just doesn’t have as steady of a stream sometimes (and there is confusion under the tagging for Heathers and Mean Girls, as well, since they’re based off of a movie, although there still admittedly isn’t as much content, especially for Mean Girls, compared to the behemoths of DEH and BMC (although Heathers I think comes close to DEH)).  Plus, the hype train for BMC was really big in the summer because of off-Broadway, and West End revivals…  Don’t pick up as much traction (although the soundtrack coming out should bring more attention to it which I’m hyped for).

The use of Waitress as an argument for people not liking f/f is just…  Off because Waitress doesn’t appeal to a Tumblr fan nearly as much as other shows because it’s about a middle aged woman getting pregnant in an abusive relationship and cheating on her abusive husband with a man who is also married.  Wicked…  Also doesn’t appeal to a theatre fanbase that will write fan fiction nearly as much.

The Prom is another debatably iffy one because yes, it does really give us f/f on Broadway we need, but it puts many off because of how misleading it feels.  You think you’re walking in and the two lesbians will be the leads, but instead it’s a straight woman which can put people off (along with those first ten minutes I really like the show but not those first ten or so minutes).  Although again we still 100% need love for female-lead musicals and f/f in Broadway just don’t fake me out with the straights (although I understand why that needed to be added to prolong its survival in a business which throws out what the rich, old populous doesn’t like (which is why ETAJ and Bare will never make it to Broadway but that’s another topic in itself and a post for another day)).

My feelings on the situation: Looking at m/m vs f/f can give you a hint of how the fandom feels on female characters, but, in reality, that truly cannot be the be all end all when looking at a fandom.  It does such that we don’t get that sort of representation, but that doesn’t mean by itself that a fandom is sexist.  In most cases, these ships just make zero sense.  If we’re shipping something, there should be a slight basis behind it.  Galaxy Gals has nothing and Pinkberry has toxic interactions.

Waitress and Wicked don’t appeal to a Tumblr audience for the most part.  Mean Girls and the Prom are sadly left in the dirt compared to the other fandoms, but MG has a stigma around it by some of the big musical fans (including me) and the Prom just hasn’t gotten as popular because it doesn’t have a Broadway video more than anything (and those first ten or so minutes I legit clicked off the first time with my friend who is now a mega-Prom stan).  Heathers does have a good-sized fandom, but nothing big has happened to it compared to BMC and DEH.

Looking on Tumblr, though, you can find that the fandom still does appreciate the female characters.  Zoe, Christine, Alana, Brooke, etc. get a lot of fanart around them!  In fact, one of my trading friends named their trading stuff after a female character in BMC, and not Jeremy or Michael or whoever else!  The females do truly get attention in the fandom and calling them sexist really isn’t seeing the full picture.

Also, the part of the fandom who would be writing and reading this stuff is more younger girls, and they just have a tendency to prefer writing/reading about gay men over gay women and straight couples.  It could be seen as possibly sexism placed on themselves by the society they live in, but I think it’s just sort of a fetization of gay men that we’ve seen many times before (namely: Love Simon), mixed with the male leads get more development than their leading ladies and supporting actresses which just makes them easier/more interesting to write on because they’re already 3D.

But, yes, females in musicals and female-led musicals do deserve a lot more attention than they receive and it is sad that sometimes they don’t get the recognition they deserve, but calling the fandom ‘sexist’ for not writing f/f is just so wrong.

[little-fandom]

Strong At The Broken Places - Chapter X

Alec and Magnus get a fair idea of where Jonathan's power comes from. Back at the Institute Alec and Clary figure out what might be able to break the demonic bond.

read on ao3  

As if it couldn’t get any worse.

While the medic treats Clary’s wound Alec receives another fire message. And knows Jace won’t be happy about its content.

“Jace,” he starts, and his brother turns to him from his spot besides Clary, still not letting go of her hand.

“What?” He raises his brow in question.  

“It’s from the Inquisitor,” Alec waves the card in his hand. “About your trail. It will take place tomorrow-“

Alec barely gets to finish when Jace interrupts with frustration in his voice.

“What? Are you serious? Now?” He snorts. “Doesn’t the Inquisitor have any more important things to do, like she did all this time before? Now when Clary is here-“

“She doesn’t know this. I haven’t told her yet.” Alec cuts in and Jace looks at him confused, so he sighs and adds. “We had more pressing matters than Clave, right?”

“Yeah, right.” Jace looks taken aback for a second. “But this doesn’t change anything. I’m not going, I can’t leave Clary.”

“Jace, please.” Alec tries. “I assured her you would come at any date she established. To be honest, I thought he may come here and discuss this with me before but, here we are.”

Actually he more wanted that, than thought it might happened. He isn’t the Clave’s favourite person right now, has never been.

“No, Alec. Look,” Jace moves to get closer to him and starts in lower voice. “We’ve just got her back, and who knows what happens next? I need to be with her-“

“But Jace, this won’t take long. It’s just a formality. We’ll go there and-“

Jace starts to shake his head and Alec knows if the only person can break his Parabatai stubbornness, it’s Clary. So he turns to her with a pleading expression.

“Jace,” she starts and he quickly makes her way back to her. “Alec’s right. You should leave this whole thing behind. Think of the trial as the end of this.” She smiles gently at him. “Besides, I can take care of myself. It’ll be only a few hours.” She puts her hand on his cheek and rubs it lightly.

Jace sighs heavily as he turns to Alec, but finally he nods.

“Okay, I’ll go.” Alec doesn’t get to cheer for a second as Jace carries on. “But only if you stay and look after Clary.”

“Jace.” Alec’s mouth hangs open for a second. “I-, We settled that we’ll go there together-“

“Alec, I can handle this. Like you said, it’s just a formality. Please.”

Alec hesitates for a second. They were supposed to do it together. But as much as he hates leaving his brother alone in this, he knows Jace won’t change his mind.

“Fine.” He agrees. “I’ll stay.”

Jace beams at the news as he returns back to Clary.

It’s getting late and Alec can feel the exhaustion settling back at him. It’s been a long day, for all of them. They still don’t know everything, but with Clary’s memories back, it’s more than they’ve knew for about a month.

“Darling,” he feels Magnus’ hand traveling from his shoulder down his arm to intertwine their fingers. “we should head home. It’s been a long day.”

It’s just like Magnus has been reading his thoughts.

“I agree.” Maryse responds as she stand up from the bed she’s been sitting at. “We’re all exhausted and should get some rest. Everything seems to be under control here now.”

Clary nods at them reassuringly that she’s fine, but Luke still eyes her cautiously.

“Seriously, I’m fine!” Clary exclaims. “But you all look like death. Really, get some rest.” She holds Luke’s hand gently. “Besides, Izzy and Jace are still here. If anything happens, they’ll let you know.”

They seem to be convinced enough, too tired to actually manage to protest. Luke leans in and kisses Clary on the forehead, while Maryse smiles gently at her. Simon hugs her and then leaves with Isabelle, who declares to walk him out.

“I missed you Fray.” Alec states with a soft smile and pats her on a shoulder.

“Wow, this is probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Clary responds with a smile and Alec chuckles.

“He does try.” Magnus says as he also hugs Clary goodbye.

As they’re back at the loft, making their way to their bad, Alec remembers he needs to talk to Magnus about something. As much as he wants to go to sleep… it just won’t let him rest.

“Magnus…” He starts, when he moves under covers to join his boyfriend.

“Yes, darling?” Magnus already holds his arms open, and Alec pillows his head on his chest, but still looks up at him.

Alec takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

“Do you think… I mean,” he struggles to find the right words and exhales again. “Do you think Jonathan might be getting his power from Asmodeus?”

Magnus turns his eyes to look at the celling, his expression hollow, so Alec can’t really read it.

“It’s possible.” He answers after a moment.

None of them speaks for a while after that. Magnus starts to run his hand up and down Alec’s back, as if he’s trying to ground himself.

“And do you think…” Alec asks then. “That your father could show up here?”

“Look, Alec I don’t know.” Magnus answers frustrated. Alec knows he doesn��t like to talk about his father, but this is important. They’re not ready for a greater demon to show up here, more the Prince of Hell.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Alec puts his hand on Magnus’ chest and strokes lightly, trying to calm him down. “I’m just trying to figure something out of this.”

“I know, angel. I know.” He exhales again, his tone turning gentle. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Alec places a kiss to his chest.

“It’s just…” Magnus tries again. “I have no idea what my father might be planning. But whatever it is, it’s bad. Maybe taking my magic was already part of that? Maybe he planned to give it to Jonathan all along and I was a fool to-“

“Hey, you saved us all that night.” Alec interrupts him. “No matter what.”

“Yes, maybe I did then.” He sighs, “But now…”

“We’ll figure it out.” Alec throws his arm around Magnus’ middle and holds him tightly. “Together.”

Alec feels him nod, and then Magnus places a kiss on top of his head.

“You know,” Magnus starts after a while. “I used to think my father is not so bad. He did love my mom, and maybe he even loved me in so twisted way, but now…”

He doesn’t need to finish. Alec knows. Even after what Asmodeus did to him as a child, Magnus still tried to find some good in him. As he always does. But after his magic… There’s no way his father’s intentions may be decent.

“We need to figure out how to break this demonic bond.” Magnus resorts. “I’ll look through the rest of my resources tomorrow.”

“Need some help?”

“No, sweetheart. You need to be back at the Institute.” He feels Magnus smile into his hair. “Jace won't be happy, if you leave Clary.” He chuckles.

“Very funny.” Alec states, but there’s laugh in his voice. Magnus looks down at him and pecks him lightly on the lips.

“I’m glad you’re staying. I’ve always hated your trips to Alicante.”

“I know babe, but I don’t like leaving Jace all alone.” Alec adds in a helpless tone.

“He’ll handle it.” Magnus assures him. “Now, sleep. There’s another day waiting for us tomorrow.”

Alec nods, settles more comfortably on his chest, and waits for sleep to overtake him.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, confused when he doesn’t feel the familiar warmth pressed next to him. He knows something is wrong. Turning on his back, he scans the room for any sign of Magnus.

He doesn’t need to try very hard to spot him. He sits at the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

“Hey, baby what’s wrong?” Alec tries, as he moves on the bed to get closer to him.

When Magnus still doesn’t answer, Alec’s not sure if he should touch him, but he attempts with a light as a feather touch on his arm.

“Are these the nightmares again?” Alec asks gently.

Magnus sighs, nods slightly and rubs his hand on his face.

The nightmares haven’t returned for weeks. At least Magnus claimed so. When Alec is with him, he usually sleeps through the whole night. But now…

“It’s fine now.” Alec says, gently stroking Magnus’ hair from his face. “We’re safe.”

He puts him into his arms and hugs gently, till he feels Magnus relax a little. Then he pulls back and continues.

“Do you want to tell me what was it about?”

It usually helps. When Magnus tells him, he lets the emotions flow out, and it’s good. He shouldn’t keep it all inside, when Alec is right  here to listen.

Magnus pulls back lightly to look him in the eyes.

“Alec, I-…” He takes a deep breath. Right now, he looks so small, scared and vulnerable. “I don’t think it was just a nightmare.”

Alec looks at him confused, but hands never stopping creasing his back softly.

“What do you mean?” He questions.

“It just felt so…real.”

“Babe, they always do.” Alec assures him smiling softly.

“No, this was different.” Magnus breaks from his embrace, to which Alec is surprised, but lets him. Then Magnus’ hands wander up and down his arms, like he needs to ground himself onto something. With his eyes still down he continues. “It was my father.”

Alec doesn’t say anything more. Just waits for him to elaborate, but can’t help the feeling that he knows what this is about.

“He said I was right.” Magnus whispers as his teary eyes finally meet Alec’s. “Alec, if we’re right-“

“We can’t be sure.” Alec interrupts gently, soothing his hands on Magnus’ thighs.

“Yes, we can. It was Asmodeus himself who told me, how can this be a coincidence?”

It’s not. And Alec knows it. But still, he doesn’t want to believe it. Recently, it’s becoming worse with every day. And when this whole mess hits its climax… it might end even causing even more damage than they thought.

Alec closes his eyes for a moment to breathe deeply and sort out his thoughts.

“So, if Asmodeus is really going to divert his magic, or yours to Jonathan…”

“Which now we know he will,” Magnus cuts in. “Alec, the whole city might be in danger.”

“I know, your magic is powerful-“

“No, I don’t really think you do.” Magnus says, but there’s no anger behind it. It sounds more like fear or concern. “Look, my power… it can crumble down whole cities.” He adds the last part in a low whisper.

Alec knew his boyfriend was powerful, but… that much? It somehow terrifies him, that something so known as safe by him can cause so much damage if in the wrong hands.

“What do we do?” Magnus looks at him with a pleading expression.

But Alec doesn’t have answers. How can they go against something so powerful and dangerous? Jonathan wants to destroy New York, and with suitable resources, he might be able to do just that.

“I don’t know.” Alec replies honesty. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Magnus lets out a long exhale and falls forward onto Alec’s chest.

And he’s always there to catch him.

“Maybe I should stay with you?” Alec starts, as Magnus settles down his books, to start the search for a way to break Clary’s connection to Jonathan.

Alec is still worried. After Magnus’ nightmare, everything feels more real. And he really doesn’t want to leave his boyfriend alone right now. Even though he has his task at hand, Alec knows Magnus will get consumed by the thoughts of his father eventually.

“Or you can come with me? The Institute’s library-“ Alec tries to continue, but Magnus interrupts gently.

“Darling, Isabelle and Simon will cover the library, I need to find if something is here.” He gestures at his surroundings.

It’s true. They’ve established that Izzy and Simon will research the library, while Alec watches over Clary. Luke and his mom probably will come over sometime to help.

“Okay, so we can bring the books back there and-“ Alec suggests, but Magnus lets out a small laugh.

“Angel, there are dozens of books here, moving it will take all day.” Magnus moves from where he’s been standing near the couch to reach Alec by the doorway, and place his hands on his shoulders.

“Then I’ll stay.” Alec states.

“Alexander, Jace will be mad if you let Clary out of your sight today.” He starts to run his hands up and down Alec’s arms.

“Well, Jace can deal with it. Clary is perfectly fine.” He sighs. “Besides, I really don’t want to leave you.”

“I’m perfectly fine too.” Magnus resorts as he ducks his head to catch Alec’s eye.

Ale rolls his eyes to that, and Magnus chuckles. But as Alec’s gaze turns more serious Magnus mirrors it.

“Are you sure?” Alec asks.

“Positive.” Magnus smiles at him, and his hands wander to Alec’s waist. “I think some time alone will do me good. Besides, you’re just a call away.”

“Of course.” Alec tries to reciprocate his smile, but he must be failing, because Magnus still eyes him with concern.

To reassure himself and Magnus, he leans in for a soft kiss. Magnus’ hands tighten around his waist, and Alec hooks his arms around his neck.

He doesn’t want to let go. But right now, the world around them is slowly starting to crumble, and only they can stop it from totally falling apart.

“Go, I’ll be fine.” Magnus smiles when they pull away from each other. “Let me know if you find anything.”

“Sure.” Alec nods. “Love you.”

“Love you too, angel.”

They decided not to tell anyone about Asmodeus. For now. Right now their priority is to find out how to break the demonic bond and help Clary.

He walks into the Institute and spots Izzy, heading in the direction of the library, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“Hello big brother.” She greets when she notices him.

“Hi, how’s it going in the library?”

“Slowly, but going. Haven’t find anything yet, but there’s still quite a lot to get into. Mom and Luke will come over later to help.” Izzy finishes, but looks at him in concern. “Are you okay? You seem tired.”

“Yeah I’m good, we just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Izzy must have heard the worry in his voice that he’s desperately trying to hide, because the next moment she asks.

“Is Magnus okay?”

“Yeah.” Alec sighs. “Nothing to worry about, for now. Let’s focus on Clary.”

Isabelle nods and walks straight back to the library, knowing the best not to push now.

Alec enters the infirmary just when Jace is about to leave.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” He catches his brother by the arm.

“Completely. I’ll deal with this, you just take care of her.” He points at Clary with his head.

Alec still doesn’t feel convinced, so Jace exhales heavily and adds.

“It’s not such a big deal. It’ll be fine, just stop worrying.” He pats Alec on a shoulder. “Call me if anything happens, see you tonight.”

“Yeah, good luck.” Alec says and his eyes wander behind Jace as he leaves the room.

He makes his way to Clary’s bed, and sits opposite to her.

“Looks like it’s just you and me today, Fray.”

She smiles brightly at him, sweeping her hair behind her ear.

“So, did you remember anything more?” Alec asks, as he settles more comfortable on the bed.

“No,” she shakes her head lightly. “I mean, I do get those flashes of memories, but… to be honest I don’t think I want to remember everything yet. I don’t want this to come and crash on me, you know?”

Alec, nods and smiles softly at her.

“Of course. What’s important is that you’re here. Don’t worry, we won’t let you beat yourself up with those memories, it wasn’t your fault. Whatever he made you do.”

Clary looks more relieved after his words, as she exhales slowly and then moves to get up from the bed. Her smile extends as she speaks again.

“You know, I kinda missed you too.”

As they both laugh Alec thinks this day may not turn out as bad as it was supposed to.

He takes Clary back into her room, since she’s completely healed, so there’s no need for her to stay in the infirmary.

“Oh, how I’ve missed this.” She traces her fingers down some of her sketches hanging loosely on the wall.

“Do you need anything?” Alec asks from his spot by the door.

“Besides a paper and some coal, I don’t need anything else.” Clary smiles at him.

“Okay, so I’m just gonna…” Alec emerges fully into the room and sits on the edge of the bed.

Clary shoots him a bit annoyed but also soft glare.

“Alec, I know Jace told you to keep an eye on me, but if you leave me alone for a few hours nothing will happen.”

“Well, you can’t be sure of that.” Clary sighs at his words as she moves to stand in front of her easel. “Besides, Jace would kill me if I left you for even a minute.”

Clary laughs and sets a new canvas on the easel.

“Okay, so if you need to stay, at least you can fill me in.”

“Fill you in on what?” Alec asks confused as he shifts on the bed.

“Alec,” Clary throws her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “It’s been a month, and I have basically no idea what’s been going on with all of you.”

Alec sighs and rolls his eyes.

“So, tell me what’s up. Come on, distract me.” She continues.

Alec doesn’t feel like talking about it. It’s been good recently and not thinking about that night seems to help a bit. He doesn’t even want to remember, but involuntarily his hand wanders to the spot slightly above his heart, where the worst reminder is located. He knows Clary is dealing with a lot too right now, so she could use a distraction from her own memories and feelings. But Clary also deserves an explanation. She sacrificed herself for Jace. Alec’s sure he told her some of the events from that night, but of course left out a few awful details.

“Fine.” Clary states after a minute, taking Alec’s silence as a refusal. “If you don’t want to talk about you then… how’s Magnus? I didn’t really have time to catch up with him.”

It’s even worse question. What Magnus had been through… well there’s not any blissful story he can share, but his mind mechanically suggest him the same answer as always, before he even gets to think.

“He’s adjusting.”

Clary’s eyes shoot up from her canvas as she looks at Alec in confusion.

“Adjusting to what?”

So Jace didn’t get to that part, Alec thinks.

He messed up. Alec’s not sure if Magnus wants Clary to know. Hell, he said he wouldn’t tell anyone if Magnus didn’t approve. But he didn’t even think, before saying it. It just came out.

But also Clary is family. And Magnus did save Jace that night.

“Ehm,” Alec clears his throat awkwardly. “I guess Jace didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Clary moves to sit on the bed next to him, her expression turning even more concern.

“Magnus…he…” Just say it Alec, he won’t be mad, Alec reprimands in his mind. He takes a deep breath and continues. “Magnus gave up his magic to save Jace.”

Clary’s eyes widen in shock, and she shakes her head lightly as if to pull the jolt away.

“He did… what?” She questions, and Alec is not in the mood to repeat it, but before he gets to she pulls her hand out to stop him. “No, I heard you but… it’s just… huge. A huge sacrifice.”

Alec sighs and nods lightly.

“And how is he doing?” She carries on as she turns to fully face Alec.

“It’s better.” Alec admits honestly, because it is. Or it was. Before yesterday, the nightmare and... well everything that may come upon them. “It’s been hard but… yeah he doesn’t regret it.”

“I need to talk to him.” Clary states as she stands up.

“Wait, Clary. It might be better if you just stay at the Institute-“

“Alec.” She stops him, voice dripping with frustration. “You’ve just told me Magnus sacrificed his magic for Jace, I need to go thank him, it’s the least I can do-“

“Yeah, I know Clary.” Alec admits. “But… he just needs to be alone for some time now.”

“What, why?” Clary questions.

“It’s just…” He starts and sighs. They agreed not to tell anyone yet. It might not even be truth. It feels real but… no, not now. If he starts even thinking about it now, his mind will go down the spiral of not so pleasant thoughts. He can't have this now, can't lose his composure. “He just wants to focus on his research back at home. Let’s not disturb him.”

Clary eyes him cautiously, like she knows he’s not telling her something, but she lets it go for now.

“Okay, fine. But let me know, if he shows up here. I really want to talk to him.”

“Yeah sure.” Alec agrees and hangs his head down as Clary returns to her spot on the bed, next to him.

“So,” she starts, a playful grin playing on her lips, as she nudges Alec with her elbow lightly. “Home?”

“What?” Alec asks, confused at what she means.

“You said Magnus wants to be alone back at home.”

“Well, yeah… the loft.” Alec frowns.

“Your home too, right?” She continues, soft smile creeping onto her face.

“Well… I mean, yes.” Alec rumbles. “But how did you know? I’ve been referring to it as home for some time now…”

“Oh I know,” Clary’s grin widens. “There’s just something different about the way you say it. It feels… warmer, I guess. I don’t know.” She chuckles.

Alec laughs too, and they don’t say anything for a moment after that. When Alec speaks later, there’s a soft smile playing on the corners of his lip.

“Yeah, it does.”

Everything was going great. Perfect even. Alec spent most of the day in Clary’s room, looking over her, just as he promised Jace. He did call Magnus and told him he might have accidentally reveal the secret of his magic lose to Clary. He wasn’t mad. Actually he said he was planning on doing so sooner or later if she already didn’t know. He promised to come by later, because all of the books were exhausting him. And he has missed Alec.

At that Alec feels his heart warming.

Now he’s settled in his spot on Clary’s bed, looking through some paperwork. After talking to Clary he informed the Clave of her whereabouts and the Inquisitor is scheduled to visit some time tomorrow.

So everything’s been going great. Clary’s at her easel, drawing. But as Alec shoots his head up, to rest his eyes from the paper work, his gaze wanders to Clary’s canvas, and there’s something bothering about it.

“Clary, what are you drawing?” Alec asks as he gets up from the bed and stands behind her.

“What?” Clary’s voice sounds like he woke her up from a deep sleep. “What do you mean? I wasn’t drawing-“ At that her eyes land on the canvas and she gasps. “By the Angel, it looks just like-“

“Lake Lyn.” Alec finishes for her. It looks identical as the painting that’s hanging in his office. “Clary, why are you drawing Lake Lyn?”

“I don’t know.” She answers taken a back. “I wasn’t even aware I was doing that.”

Alec feels this strange feeling building in his gut.

“Should we call Jace?”

“No.” Clary states. “Not yet, it might be nothing.”

“Clary, do you really believe-“

Suddenly Clary drops her piece of coal and winces in pain. Her hand wanders to her collar bone, the rune.

“Clary what’s going on?” Alec feels the panic overcome him, but still tries to keep calm. She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are shut tightly and her whole body feels tensed. “Clary come on, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“It burns!” She almost yells, and it’s followed by a helpless cry, her hand clutching on the demonic rune.

Alec tries to remain calm as he catches her before she gets to fall from her chair and half carries her to the bed so she can lie down.

“Clary, I’m going to get some help, okay?” He wants to turn and leave to quickly get a medic, but then Clary is gripping his forearm tightly, with no intention of letting go.

“No, just…” She gasps and a screams tears through the room.

“Okay, okay I’m here.” Alec reassures her and runs his hand through her hair softly.

He has no idea what to do, how to help, or what the hell is going on. All he can think about is that Jonathan is coming. And he’s coming sooner than they thought he would.

He pulls out his phone and quickly texts Isabelle, to get a medic to Clary’s room.

Izzy shows up not even a minute later.

“I sent Simon to get help. What’s going on?”

“I don’t kno-“ Before Alec gets to finish Clary lets out another scream.

Alec takes a deep breath and tries to think. He draws out his stele from his pocket and puts it onto Clary’s skin with his trembling hands.

“What are you doing?” Izzy asks with her hand on his forearm.

“I’m drawing a blocking rune.” Alec announces. “It might not help, but we never know.”

Isabelle nods and lets go of his arm.

Alec’s hands are still shaking, but somehow he manages to draw the rune. Clary’s breathing seems to calm down a little and Alec looks at Izzy with a little bit of relief, which she mirrors.

“It’s…” Clary’s voice is low, almost a whisper and Alec needs to bow down to hear her. “It’s Jonathan, he wants to break to me.” She barely gets to finish and another scream follows.

“What do we do?” Izzy asks, panic clear in her voice. “Where the hell is the medic?”

Alec thinks, a million thoughts seem to race through is mind, but none of them is able to help Clary in any way. He’s heartbeat speeds up, and he runs a nervous hand through his hair.

He does the only thing he can think of.

“Clary listen to me.” He leans down and takes her face between his hands. “Open your eyes, look at me.”

“Alec, what are you-“ Izzy starts, but Alec cuts her off with one glare.

“Clary, come on.” Alec pleads and a second later Clary’s eyes flutter open. “That’s good, just focus on my voice, okay?” Clary tries to nod, but then another wave of pain shakes her body and she cries out.

“Clary listen,” Alec continues. “You’re stronger than this, than him, okay? You can resist it. You did before, back on the beach. Do the same now. Block him of.”

“I can’t.” She sobs.

“Yes, you can Clary. You’re stronger than you think.”

Clary shuts her eyes again, but her expression is focused, as if she’s really trying to fight it.

Then Simon enters the room with Annika, but Izzy stops them with her hand, clearly understanding that Clary can’t get distracted now.

“I can hear…” Clary whispers and squeezes Alec’s hand, harder than anyone would accuse she’s capable of. “The voice, it’s… the Angel.”

Alec’s eyes widen, but he tries to shock not to hit him too hard, staying focused, still continuing.

“Focus on him. Whatever he’s trying to tell you, focus on it. Force back every thought of Jonathan. He’s nothing. Okay?” Clary frowns, but her breathing seems to even out. “You’re doing great Clary, keep going.” He encourages.

Alec is sure he hears Simon’s voice from the doorway, full of dread, but he doesn’t let it get into him. Not now.

Next moments pass by in silence, only the sound a Clary’s heavy breaths filling the room, but soon they start to even out. Then Clary seems to calm down completely, she’s still breathing a bit hard, but then her eyes flutter open.

“Alec…” She starts and Alec lets out a breath he was holding. “What-“

“It’s okay. You’re fine.” Alec slumps down on the bed and runs his hand through his hair again.

“Clary!” Simon’s heading to her side, Isabelle no longer able to stop him. “What the hell happened here?”

He looks at Alec, but he just shrugs, not sure if he’s able to force some words through his throat now. He feels his sister’s hand on his shoulder, and immediately relaxes a bit, putting his own palm to cover hers.

“The Angel…” Clary starts and all eyes turn to her. “He wanted to communicate with me, and Jonathan tried to stop him.” She explains.

“Did he say anything, the Angel?” Izzy questions.

Clary seems to think a bit, before she speaks.

“It was more like a vision.” She states. “I saw my rune, and Jonathan, and-“ She pauses and her head shoots up to look back at the canvas. She gets up from the bed, regardless everyone’s attempts to stop her.

“This.” She says, tracing her fingers down the lines of her drawing. “Lake Lyn.”

Alec tries to put the pieces together. There’s gotta be a connection. Nothing is a coincidence, not anymore. Magnus’ dream, Clary’s drawing and now the vision…There’s only one thing he comes up with.

“Clary, if the Angle showed you this…” He says carefully. “What if this is the way to break the bond?”

All eyes turn to him and his sight hoovers over them.

“How?” Clary asks.

Alec takes a deep breath and explains his theory.

“What if the water from Lake Lyn can destroy the bond? It would work like holy water. Besides, the lake is a Mortal Mirror, it’s a Mortal Instrument after all.”

Everyone seem to wrap their heads around this new information. The room turns quiet again, everyone’s expression scrunching in thinking. Then it’s Simon, who speaks first.

“Actually this makes perfect sense.” There’s no sarcasm or bitterness behind his tone, and Alec realizes that it really does makes sense.

“First the Angel made you draw it, you didn’t even knew you were doing it, right?” Alec continues, because he needs to be sure.

“Well, yeah.” Clary replies as Alec can see the thoughts running through her brain in her eyes.

“And then he showed you the vision, which Jonathan wanted to disturb, but you resisted him.”

“Yes.” Clary nods slowly. “But, why now?”

Alec swallows visibly before speaking.

“Because he’s coming.”

Everyone in the room wears the expression of fear and worry on their faces. But they need to work, there’s no time to lose.

“All right, so we need to get to Idris-“ Izzy starts, but then Alec is hit with the sudden realization.

“Jace.” All eyes turn to him again. “He’s in Idris now, we need to get to him.”

“I’ll go.” Izzy says, and Alec is already opening his mouth to argue, but his sister stops him. “Look, Alec someone needs to stay. You watch after Clary, reach the others and tell them what we found out.” Alec still doesn’t look convinced, so Isabelle adds. “I’ll find Jace as soon as I get there. Besides, I’ve been there before. There’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I don’t want you to go alone-“

“I’ve got this big brother, you need to handle everything here.”

“Okay,” Alec nods, because it’s true and there’s no time to lose. They don’t know how long Jace will stay there. He knows he needs to stay here. He’s the leader after all. Then he pulls his sister into a hug. “Just, be careful.”

He kisses her on the forehead as she nods and then, she’s leaving the room.

“Call Luke,” Alec turns to Simon. “tell him to get here as soon as he can, I’ll reach Magnus.”

Simon is already pulling out his phone, and when Alec is about to do the same, he feels a light hand on his shoulder.

“Alec…” Clary stares back at him as he turns around to face her. “Thank you.”

Alec looks confused, not sure what Clary means, and as she notices it, she continues.

“For, you know, talking me through it.” The corners of her lips quirk slightly, but then she drops her gaze and becomes more serious. “I don’t think I would be able to resist it, if not you.” She looks up at him, and there’s so much honesty and gratitude in her eyes that Alec can barely stand it.

“You would.” He states firmly. “You’re really stronger than you think.” He smiles a little at her. “Now, we need to get to work. We figured out one thing, but it doesn’t solve all of our problems.”

He turns into his Head of the Institute mode, and strides out of the room to call Magnus.

It’s time to tell them.

[luninosity]

Opening up that sequel to the m/m erotica thing from ages ago. I had more done than I thought...

##

In the onyx crevices of night, surrounded by blue satin-stripe sheets and pillow-mountains and bed-coziness, Ben Smith, ex-secret-agent and happily married Academy instructor, attempted poking his husband in the ribs. For the second time. “Love?”

 “Completely asleep. Go away.”

 “You love me.”

 “Wholeheartedly, indubitably, and eternally. Also sleepily.” But a hand curled up and found his, fingers lacing together in the night. Unspoken question: was it a nightmare, whose face did you see, which memory of a mission performed too well for your country, can I hold you, let me help.

 “I love you,” Ben told him, answering the unsaid words with a kiss to the back of Simon’s neck, fine hairs and fair skin and familiar warmth reflected in his own heart. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

 Simon rolled over and opened curious eyes at him, a lazy glint of pale blue in the dark. “Depends on what you mean by busy. I’ve got the proofs of the American edition of Lady Olivia’s Lover to go through—and I can only hope they’ve not just done find-and-replace with certain words this time, because round and around do not always mean the same thing even in the Colonies—”

 “What century is this, again?”

 “At three in the morning you’re lucky I’m within five hundred years. And yes, I love you. They don’t need my input until next Wednesday, so I’ve got a few days. Did you have something in mind?”

 “Maybe. How’re you feeling?” He balanced on an elbow, brushed fingers over that moon-washed cheekbone, cupped Simon’s face in his hand, rubbed a thumb over enticing skin. “Better?”

 “I was better last week,” Simon said, and smiled, brilliant and sweet in drifting shadows. “These days I believe frustrated is the term. Am I allowed to have all the incandescently wonderful sex with you, yet?”

 “I said maybe. If I’m convinced you’re up to it.” His hand trailed along the line of curling gilt-edged hair, almost silver in the dimness, a beacon. Fingers over a temple, a pulse-point, beating. The night held its breath.

 He’d gotten that phone call while teaching, in the middle of a history class: Agency legends and the truth behind them, guest lecture next week from a very old acquaintance with a Russian accent, so pay attention to this bit and brush up on the nineteen-eighties alliances—

 His phone’d vibrated; he’d not recognized the number, and ignored it.

 One of the secretaries’d come in. He’d turned, at the opening of the door. Had seen the boy’s face.

 A car. A drunk driver—at three in the afternoon, what the actual hell—and a person who’d just stepped out for a trip to the post office, enjoying the walk and the sunshine, giving recalcitrant words some space before returning to the computer. A person who’d lived in America for barely a year and who consistently looked the wrong way at street corners and who could be left alone for five seconds in an empty room and find something to walk into or trip over.

 Simon did have a decent amount of flexibility and athleticism, otherwise. Went running in the mornings. Had tried, mid-intersection, to throw himself out of the way.

 Ben, shaking internally, had followed the nurse through numb white hospital corridors, and told himself that his husband was fine, bruised but fine, awake and talking, they’d said so on the phone, not lying broken and unconscious and bleeding to death while a class went on and a phone rang unanswered…

 The nurse had opened the door. Simon, sitting up, bandaged and pale, had smiled at him.

 The world had exhaled, thumping back into familiar rotation.

 In the present, he exhaled too. Remembering.

 “Love,” Simon said, and draped a leg over his waist, and managed to only slightly kick him in the hip along the way; better than average, Ben thought, and smiled, though only to himself. Holding on. “Can we play with handcuffs and vibrators, then? Or should I not ask, if you’ve got surprises in store?”

 “I’m…not sure yet. Nothing too intense, though.” Nothing that might leave more bruises. No extra wounds. “And you’ll tell me if anything hurts.”

 “I always have.” Leaning forward, a nudge of noses in the smoky night. “I always will. I am perfectly fine, you know.”

 “I know.” They’d mostly kept Simon overnight for observation—he’d been unconscious when the ambulance had arrived, and had thoroughly confused the paramedics by waking up en route to the hospital and asking whether anyone’d picked up any packages of books signed by Lady Simone Ashley, romance novelist, and if so could someone please put them in the post, because they needed to end up in London by next week, thank you.

 Ben, hearing that story with his husband’s hand secure in his, had laughed. He’d had to, in order to hold back the tears.

 The injuries had all but faded out of existence, two and a half weeks on. Even the hideous evil color that’d spread over that vulnerable temple, turning fair skin black and purple and ugly. It’d made Ben’s stomach twist every time he’d caught a glimpse: a new gut-shot, unexpected and cruel.

 “Turn off your alarm,” he said, skimming fingers over a bare shoulder, the compact muscles and lines and planes of Simon’s back. Memorizing, though he didn’t need to: already etched into his soul. “I’ll wake us up.”

 And then, hastily: “No, wait, don’t move. I’m turning off your alarm. The last time you tried to find your phone in the dark we lost a bedside lamp. Um. Orders.”

 “Oh, fine, if you’re making it an order, sir…” Simon moved the leg, rolled over, stayed put amid the encouraging sheets. “To be fair, it was a hideously unpleasant lamp. Gave me bruises. This one’s nicer.”

 This one was wall-mounted. There were reasons they owned easily replaceable coffee mugs and kitchen chairs. Ben climbed happily across his husband and the expanse of bed, plucked Simon’s mobile phone neatly from its spot, and tried not to be too smug about spy training and mobility in darkness.

 “I can hear you grinning.”

 “No you can’t. Secret agent. Stealthy. Undercover.”

 “Writer. Automatic superpowers. Though—under covers, you said…”

 “I did.” He tugged all the gilt-and-moonbeam hair and tiny-whirlwind muscles back into his arms, pulling up the sheet. The night settled snugly around them: no need for heavier blankets. Only themselves. Enough.

 He’d always loved the way they fit together. Puzzle pieces that shouldn’t work, but somehow did: incongruities finding each other, English-aristocrat pixie-height slimness and startling strength aligned with usefully ordinary brown hair and average build and a still-standing Academy marksmanship record. Simon was eight years younger than he was, and—rather astonishingly given their respective professions—about a hundred times more cynical, except for when it came to one word, and that word was love.

 Happy endings, in all the novels. Hope. Commitment. Acts of banner-waving courage, given the author’s background. Most readers didn’t know. Ben did, and was privately all too aware that an ocean lay between his guns and Simon’s father.

 He wrapped a hand around one elegantly-boned wrist. Squeezed, enough to be felt. Simon sighed, smiled, shut phantom-blue eyes. “Yes, please.”

 Anchors, then. A foot hooked over an ankle, body weight deployed as certainty. Holding on; holding down. Conviction: all mine.

 “All yours,” Simon whispered, castle-spire echoes of Ben’s thought. “Always.”

 “You are. Go to sleep.” And he heard the hint of drowsy laughter, tinged with arousal, submission, sunrise desire, in the answering “Yes, sir,” in the way that wrist and smaller body relaxed under physical and verbal command.

 They fell asleep tangled up together. They woke the same way.

 Or at least Ben did; he lived with a person who often didn’t awaken until several minutes after freshly brewed tea’d been waved under his nose. He wondered on occasion how Simon’d ever survived morning classes at that starched-collar boarding school. Unsolved mystery of life, that one was. But not one he minded living with. Forever.

 He lay unmoving for a moment, appreciating the view. Watched his husband sleep, face squashed into the pillow in a fantastically inelegant fashion, hair sticking up in mischievous night-spikes. Simon asleep looked like sunrise, he decided, all sunshine curls and creamy skin and careless contentment; like a miniature masterpiece painted in gold that’d somehow collided with a pillow and learned how to very quietly snore.

 Beautiful, Ben thought, and his heart twisted under his breastbone, a helpless fiercely longing ache; he did have plans, and had made promises. So he got up, noiseless as ever, and wandered over to a very particular dresser drawer.

  Simon woke up blinking, yawning adorably, trying to move a hand to sweep disheveled hair out of one eye. The eye, and the other one, widened. Ah. Realization.