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foolforharrry · 2 years ago

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Strawberries & Memories - Chapter 3 - Sweeter Side

Hi. This is the third chapter of my new book. I'm really excited about it and it would mean a lot if you shared it or gave me some feedback on it.

Summary for Strawberries & Memories: Anna went to the Coachella Music Festival to finally see her idol perform in person. Little did she know that would end up changing her life forever in ways she never even dared dream of. But everything comes at a cost.

Chapter index

Chapter 2

Harry has been a bit too cheerful.

Ever since I told him I’d be down for anything he wanted to show me, he’s had this extremely coy little smile on his face, glancing over at me every few seconds.

We’re on our way back to my hotel. Harry wasn’t happy with my outfit. He said I would need something more functional. And jeans aren’t cutting it for him, apparently.

When I pointed out that his trousers are tighter than mine, he smugly informed me that he has a change of clothes in the back of his car.

He still won’t tell me where we’re going or what we’re doing.

I’ve been trying to wrack my brain for the past five minutes, having given up on trying to make him cave and tell him what he’s got planned for us. But everything and nothing is what I’m left with.

Maybe he just wants to do yoga by the Hollywood sign. Or do water aerobics fully clothed at a random pool. Or maybe a fountain. It could be some rite of passage of some sort. You never know.

But whatever it is, I want to know.

“This is your hotel, right?” Harry points to the run-down looking hotel to our right, turning down the volume of the radio. The radio host’s chatter now drowned out by the sound of the engine still humming.

I nod, “Yeah. I still feel like I need to wash down your whole car now.”

I seriously do not understand why on earth he would let my dirty ass into this car. It’s white. And shiny. And beautiful. And more importantly, it’s a fucking Porsche.

“What do you mean?”, Harry asks confused. “Unless you threw dirt on it or something, there is nothing for you to clean.” He doesn’t let me explain, he just fully turns his body towards me, his expression turning hard and accusing, “Did you throw dirt? Why would you do that when I’m being nothing but nice to you?”

I raise my hands in surrender, “I’m sorry, H. it was just too tempting. Your car is so sparkly and expensive.”

“You’re a force of evil aren’t you?” Harry shuts off the engine, giving my shoulder a squeeze before he reaches for his door handle, “And you look great in my Porsche.”

Out of my say or control, I can feel blush spreading embarrassingly fast on my cheeks. But I ignore it, taking a deep breath to gather myself before I join him where he’s waiting patiently on the passenger side of the car, offering him a small smile as I carefully let the car door fall shut.

“Come on, then.”, I say when I hear the sound of the car lock. Harry trails after me when I make my way through the lobby and into the elevator, keeping his hands clasped behind his back the whole elevator ride. A comfortable silence blanketing us in the short time it takes the elevator to get from the ground floor to the 5th.

I turn around, walking backwards in the direction my hotel room is, making sure to look Harry in the eye when I talk. “There will be a few things. Here and there. And on the floor and stuff. You.”, I point at him to further my point, “Don’t judge. I’ve been busy.”

I have been very busy. Mostly holed up in there with my laptop and notebook jotting down every thought that’s passed through my head when I wasn’t sitting at the café or talking with Harry. Tidying it and cleaning haven’t really been a priority.

There has also been a constant do not disturb sign hanging on the outside of my hotel door. It’s still there.

Harry shakes his head with a laugh, “Ok, darling. I promise I’m not gonna judge.” “Do you pinkie promise?” I offer my pinkie, stopping momentarily to let him wrap his around mine and squeeze. “Promise

So it turns out Harry’s idea of sight seeing is quite what I’d pictured it would be.

“Come on. We’re almost there, Anna. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

I don’t even wanna look at him right now. How can one person be this cheerful while doing such a torturous thing? By choice.

I such in as deep breaths as I can, the sun making me have to squint my eyes. “You said that five minutes ago too, H”, I sigh. This is actually torture.

“It’s just up there, I promise.”, Harry offers me his water bottle. I accept it gratefully considering I finished mine a while ago, but just take a tiny sip. I’m not that horrible. After screwing the lid back on, I hand it back to him, thanking him profusely.

“Ready?”, he asks even though he’s already started walking again.

Reluctantly, I do the same, ignoring the burning in my thighs from the abuse the poor things have been put through.

This might be a sign that I should work out more often, because Harry is smiling at me when I catch up to him even though he is 100% doing this whole hike a lot slower for my benefit. Which is something I really appreciate.

Maybe this is a sign that I should work out more in general.

But one thing that’s for sure is that Harry wasn’t joking when he said the view from the top is to die for.

On one side there is ocean stretching as far as your eye can see. Different shades of blue mixing and blending together as the waves crashes against the shore. On the other side it’s green. Green with little spots and spaces of purple, yellow, tan and red. But it’s too far away for me to be able to see what it is.

The air, unlike on the beach where you could basically taste the salt from the ocean, is fresher than ever. Every breath feels like all the filth from the city is being cleansed from my lungs. The only form of civilisation I can see is the road we took here and the small town a little away from the small mountain we just climbed.

“I told you it would be worth it.” I don’t even have to see his face to know that he’s smug about being right. “You can say it, you know.”

This isn’t going to be good for my ego. “Yes. You were right. But.”, I turn on my heel so I’m looking at him and not the view anymore, “I still think you’re a horrible person for dragging my lazy ass up a whole freaking mountain for a view.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise in surprise, his lips pressing together to supress a smile.

There is a light sheen of sweat on his skin. But really, it’s just giving him a nice glow where the sunlight hits him.

I have no idea how he makes sweat look like that. I’m 99% certain that my sweat makes me look more like a drowned whale than anything. It’s unfair and there should be some rule against people making everything look good.

“You’re just hungry.”, Harry waves me off, “Once we’ve had something to eat, you’re gonna be able to appreciate me taking you here.” “Don’t sound too confident about it, pretty boy. I hold grudges.”

He doesn’t seem phased by my threat, instead he just nods, “Sure, grumpy. Let’s go.”

“Wait.”, I chase after him, careful not to trip over my feet or any loose rocks, “I thought we were going to enjoy the view.”

Harry is already walking at a fast pace down the hill again that we just came up.

I swear to God this man-

“You snooze, you lose, Anna.”, he just yells over his shoulder as I am tiptoeing as fast as I can after him.

If I survive this, I’m gonna cut off a piece of his hair.

It took us a good one and a half hours to get back to his car. My life flashing before my eyes several times.

I’m just thanking God that Harry has quick reflexes.

The journey down wasn’t much different from how we spent the one up. Only instead of me mostly keeping my mouth shut from lack of oxygen, it was out of either concentration in order not to die. Or to admire everything I didn’t have the patience to earlier.

Everything from the random, little flowers scattered to a wild animal we passed. I am not going to admit it to Harry, he doesn’t need to be told he’s right anymore today, but I kind of understand his whole thing about nature being freeing or whatever.

There was something oddly peaceful about not being surrounded by people milling around and cars packing the road.

Surprising, I know.

“You don’t look like you want to kill me.”, Harry breaks the comfortable silence that’s been blanketing us since we settled into his car and he told me he had another place to show me.

I lift my head from the window where I’ve been resting it, turning to look at him. “It’s the Porsche. I’m telling you.”

“I see.”, he hums. “So, the best way to stay alive after dragging someone on a hike is to have a nice car?”

I nod, patting his hand, “I’m afraid so, H.”

Harry blows out a breath, shaking his head in defeat. “The world we live in, Anna.”, he stares right at me, “It’s beyond saving.”

“How about this?” I gesture to the small town we’re just entering. “This also beyond salvation?”

But it’s the stark opposite of where I’d imagined that we would be going today when he said he wanted to show me his favourite places. I’m not really sure what I did picture. But it was for sure not hiking or visiting a small town two hours out of LA with the sun starting to set in the distance.

Instead of there being busy streets and tall buildings everywhere with noise and smells that never lets up, it’s quiet. The houses are all charming and inviting. Every one of them with a front yard and one or two cars parked in the driveway. There are kids playing outside without a care in the world.

It reminds me of the kind of towns you’d read about in a romance novel. With the boy next door and the small high school. The town where everyone knows everyone and their business.

I can see why Harry likes it here.

A soft smile that can only be described as fond has settled on his face where he keeps the car moving slow enough to take in everything without risking running over something. As if he is taking it all in for the first time.

“I came across this place back in 2016, you know.”, Harry starts, making me straighten up in my seat so I can give him my undivided attention.

He takes a beat before he picks up again where he left off. “I had some time where I didn’t know what to really do with myself. It was weird, you know. So a friend of mine and I had seen some photos from the hill we were just on, and decided to go there.”

“He went straight home when we finished the hike, but I’d seen the lights from the top since it had started getting dark. I was hungry and needed to use the bathroom. That’s all I wanted here.”

I nod when he glances over to me for him to continue. He does. “I ended up going to this little bakery. And even though it was almost time for it to close, they had the best hot coco and apple pie I’d ever had. The woman who owns the bakery, Molly, she’s the sweetest old lady ever. Her grandkids help her out after school, but it’s mainly her and her daughter who handles it.”

“Sounds like you love it there.”

“I really do.”, he agrees. “I’ve been coming here whenever I’m in LA for more than a few days ever since. It’s nice to have a place where you can go to just relax and still not be alone, you know?”

I don’t even know what to say, so I sit quietly processing everything he just said until he talks again. “That’s where I’m taking you right now.”

Struggling to keep myself looking like a human being and not a goldfish, I clench my teeth so hard it feels like they’re going to break. Don’t cry is being chanted repeatedly in my head. Because I refuse to cry. I am going to take a deep breath and calm down right now.

Fuck Harry for making me emotional right now. I’m cool. I’m stoic. I don’t cry over someone sharing a personal, really cute story. That’s not me.

He must take my silence as me not liking his plan because he is apologising and rambling and by the time I can stop him, he has stopped the car and pulled out his phone.

I snatch it away from him, turning it off after noticing the notes app was open. “Harry.” I grab his shoulder to make him stop talking. “I would love to go there with you. It’s a brilliant idea. I was just taking a minute to not cry. Because that would’ve been embarrassing.”

Harry’s shoulders sag in relief, wiping imaginary sweat off his forehead while heavily exhaling, “Thank God. And yeah, I agree. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself either.”

“Hey!” I shove him playfully. “You’re so mean today.”

He shoves me right back, his dimples popping out when he smiles, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Nope.”

“Great. Then let’s go.” Harry unfastens his seatbelt, gathering his phone and wallet before he leaves the car. I do the same, reaching into the back seat to grab my tote bag. I take a moment to pat myself on the shoulder.

I didn’t embarrass myself that much.

The second I’m out of the car, I can’t help but fish my phone out of my pocket and snap a photo.

There is a small park with a playground and a pond. Flowers are blooming along the edges and in clusters. There are benches placed by the cobble stone path running through the park.

Shops and what looks like restaurants are one side of the park and more houses on the other. The sun set casts an orange glow over buildings.

It’s idyllic is what it is.

“This actually feels straight out of a romance novel.”, I tell Harry when I feel finished with marvelling at the simplicity of the town.

He grins at me, pushing his hair out of his face, “I see what you mean. Maybe that’s why I love it here so much.”

With that we make our way to the bakery.

“It’s so pretty!” I can’t contain my excitement when he points it out, nearly speed walking to get there faster. Harry laughs as he walks faster to match me in my hurry.

The walls are painted a light pink and there are potted, green plants on either side of the white, door. The windows are big and inviting and the name of the bakery is written on the sign hung above the door.

‘Sweeter Side’

Ok, if that isn’t one of the cutest names for a bakery, then I don’t know what is.

I’m surprised by the warm smell of baked goods filling my nostrils when Harry reaches for the door handle. The bell rings when he pushes the door open.

It has a bell.

The second the door closes behind us, a small, old lady with white hair and big glasses is peaking her head out from a door in the right corner of the bakery behind the display and register.

Her expression goes from surprised to complete joy as she hurries her short legs to us “Harry, love! It’s been far too long.”

“Molly!”, Harry matches her excitement, meeting her halfway to engulf her in a warm hug.

They’re laughing as they take their time, greeting each other and it warms my heart seeing the genuine happiness on both their faces.

Molly then seems to notice my presence and waves me over. Harry steps to the side so I can stand next to him as he introduces us, “Anna, this is Molly. Molly, Anna.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”, I hold out my hand to her for a handshake, but she swats it away, pulling me into a hug.

“Call me Molly, sweetheart.” She’s warm and it feels like a hug your grandmother would give you.

“Ok, Molly. It’s so nice to meet you.” I hug her back, not letting go until she does.

The nervousness I had been feeling before I met Harry on the beach earlier today has been completely erased along with the little nerves I had about Harry taking me to somewhere special to him.

“This place is so nice.”, I praise her when she lets go of me. “And it smells delicious.”

“Oh, thank you darling. It’s small, but I like to think it is.”, she thanks me, humbly. “Harry here gave us the sofas over there.”

“He did?” I go over to the sofas she pointed at. Two identical, white, sofas with a floral pattern and soft-looking, pastel green and pink throw pillows. “They fit perfectly here.”

I settle into the closest one, sighing contently at how comfortable it is. It literally feels like sitting on a cloud.

And they do match the other interior and decorations perfectly.

The homey feel of the little plants everywhere as well as the paintings hanging on the wall. The shelf next to the bread display with framed photos. They’re too far away to be able to see what they’re actually of clearly, but I’m assuming they’re family photos.

Harry sits down next to me, his arm draping over the back of the couch. “Where’s Molly?”, I ask confused when I notice she isn’t here anymore.

“She went to the kitchen to finish making our coco and pie.” “Shouldn’t we go help her´”, I go to stand up, feeling guilty that we’re leaving the sweet lady to do everything herself. But Harry grabs my wrist, preventing me to go anywhere.

“She won’t let you. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Masterlist

#harry #harry smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles masterlist #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles #one direction #fanfiction #masterlist #coachella #harrychella

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kaijime · 4 years ago

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picture perfect

includes. step-brother! hinata shoyo x f!reader

cw. step-cest, mentions of nudes, masturbation, blackmailing, toys [butt plug], fingering, use of pet name 'bunny', video recording, praise kink, vaginal penetration, creampie, theres a mirror?

wc. 2.1k

a/n. this is for @dilfhub's everything-cest collab, hope you like it!! also i might make a pt. 2 for this

hinata knows what you've been doing, the pictures you've been posting, and the videos you've been sharing for anyone to see, and he plans to use it for his own benefit.

tit started with atsumu showing him a picture of a girl online, 'some girl on onlyfans' he said, but as soon as hinata saw one picture, he was hooked on your body. he quickly asked atsumu for a link to your account because he couldn't get enough of you from just a few pictures.

that night when he finally arrived to his room he was eager to follow the link atsumu had sent him. he paid for the exclusive photos and delved into them.

the most recent one was a picture of a girl's body, posing in front of the mirror, a pastel pink bralette and thin, lacy panties adorned her figure. he could swear he recognized that phone case from somewhere, but he brushed it off as a casualty.

but as he scrolled through the gallery, he kept recognizing things from the background. a jewelry box, the bed sheets, some shoes on the floor.

and then it clicked in his mind.

your jewelry box, the one he'd seen you open thousands of times when he still lived in your parent's house. your bed sheets, he remembers the day you bought them, claiming this color would match your room aesthetic. your shoes, the one's he specifically remembered you wearing for your family reunion.

it was too specific to be a coincidence, but you wouldn't do this kind of thing, right? when he still lived in the house, you never seemed like that type of girl. you never invited any boys over, and you never wore such revealing clothes like the ones you wear in these pictures.

he's scrolled too far, and every single picture he's seen has only driven him to his position right now, cock in his hand, stroking himself to you. he didn't care if it was you anymore, he needs relief after seeing your body with those different poses, different underwear that made his mind run wild with thoughts of making you his.

but his hand around his cock isn't enough to satisfy him. now that he's convinced you took those photos of yourself, he only wants to be buried between your legs, he wants to see how much of his cock you can take before whining and pawing at his chest, moaning that its too much for you to handle.

as soon as he pictures you sprawled out on the bed beneath him, panting his name as he ruts into you, he's a goner. he cums quickly, thick ropes of his cum falling on his stomach and dripping down his toned body.

he makes a reminder to confront you about it the next time he sees you, which is conveniently right now as he stands in front of your bedroom door. now, he's not sure if he really wants to do this. what kind of step-brother would he be if he blackmailed his pretty little step-sister?

after spending the whole day with his family, he decides to stay at his old childhood house for the night, and the only thing he can think about is how pretty you'd look wearing the pretty lingerie set you wore in the last picture you posted. he knocks on the door once, twice, until he grows tired of waiting and opens the door, surprised to find out it was unlocked.

he doesn't know what he was expecting when he decided to open the door, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see you posing in front of the body length mirror, a frilly pair of panties adorning your hip and a lacy bra that barely covers anything. even though you're posing in the mirror, there are still other props sitting unused on your bed, bunny ears and a butt plug with a little fluff at the end, a bunny tail.

he stands on the door frame, not daring to move an inch as you stumble to cover yourself with a blanket. despite not moving much, he closes the door behind him and locks it, leaving you with a confused, blushing face.

you can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest in anticipation, waiting for his next move, too embarrassed to say anything yourself.

"you're beautiful" he mutters under his breath before slowly approaching you, caressing your arm and coaxing you to take off the blanket that covered you.

"what are you doing? y-you shouldn't-"

"i know what you were doing" he says, pulling the sheets from your hands and throwing you over his shoulder. he throws you on the bed and towers over you, reaching his hand over to find the bunny ears.

"were you planning on wearing these?" he asks, when he really thinks about it, you would look nice as his little bunny. he puts the ears on your head and runs his hand over your cheek, soft skin trembling under his touch. he could tell you were scared, yet you didn't put up a fight. "they'd look very nice on you"

he reaches over again, fidgeting with the little butt plug between his fingers. "you gonna take another picture in them?" he asks.

"wh-what are you talking about?" you ask, acting innocent to his accusations.

"don't lie to me" he says, flipping you over so you're laying on your knees, your flimsy panties doing little to cover up the skin of your ass, completely exposed to him.

"i-i don't-"

"c'mon, i've already seen all of your photos" he says, a warm blush creeping into your cheeks.

he knows.

you can't do anything but keen at his words, bucking your hips back towards him where he rubbed the plug against your puckered hole. "i've seen you" he continues "in your cute little lingerie" he runs his hands up and down your body, pressing at the curve of your ass. he just can't believe you're finally like this, laid beneath him just how he imagined. "you looked so pretty, i knew i had to make you mine when i saw you like that"

"we can't" you protest, trying your best to slap his hands away from your body, but instead he takes both of your wrists in one of his hands, using his free hand to insert a finger into your ass. he works you open slowly, thrusting one of his knuckles to fuck into you until you're ready to take the metal plug.

you mutter curses under your breath when he pulls his fingers away, only to be replaced with the hard metal as he pushes it in. "ah!" you exclaim, gasping when its finally all inside and he pets the fluffy tail.

"good girl" he praises while he toys with the tail. when he's done admiring your ass, he slides your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your folds.

"you got so wet from me playing with your ass?" he asks teasingly. "my little bunny"

the pet name makes you drip down your thighs and he notices, he can see that your hole is drooling with your essence, eager to be filled to the brim, and who was he to leave you all high and dry?

"don't play with me shoyo" you whine, squirming and struggling to get his hands off of you, feeble attempts to make him stop.

"i'll play with you all i want" he says "unless you want me to show them what a little slut they have as a daughter"

he's blackmailing you. you're stuck between a rock and a hard place, nothing to do except do whatever he wants. you shouldn't have posted those stupid pictures, and you curse to yourself for getting involved in such a stupid cashgrab.

"no..." you shift your hips closer to him, grinding against him in hopes it would change his mind.

he knew you'd cave in as soon as he threatened you, but he didn't expect you to be so receptive. when you grind your wet panties against his clothed cock, how can you expect him to hold back?

"god, you're gorgeous" he sighs, the feeling of your wetness on his fingers excites him, drives his crazy as he sucks on his fingers, reveling in your lovely taste.

he inserts two of his fingers into your clenching hole, imagining it was his cock instead. he grows harder by the minute, biting his lip to hold back his want for you, and he swears he could cum on the spot when you moan his name.

"shoyo, please!" you whine when he curls his fingers to hit that perfect spot that left your legs weak, barely able to keep you kneeling properly on the bed. "'m gonna cum" you warn him.

"not yet" he says, releasing your hands and spanking your ass, then he lightly pulls on the plug buried between your cheeks.

"fuck! p-please let me cum!" your pleas fall to deaf ears, he's focused on getting your phone from the nigh stand and pulling out the camera app. he starts recording you, zooming in the camera in on the sight of your drooling hole, and capturing all your noises in the video.

"cum, bunny" he orders. you don't hesitate to let go of the built up pleasure, cumming around his digits and coating them with your slick juices.

"f"-fuck!" you say between sobs, tears streaming down your dainty face as he takes his fingers out. he pulls them apart, showing off the string of juices that cling to his fingertips to the camera.

he stops the recording and grabs your hips, rough calloused hands leaving dark marks that would probably be visible tomorrow.

"did you like that?" you can't even reply, still lost in your own pleasure and clenching onto the sheets. you're so buried in your mind, you don't even notice him taking his cock out of his pants and positioning it to your entrance. he covers it in your slick, using it as lubricant to slide into you.

he fills you up perfectly, leaving you gasping for air when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. you're stretched out beyond your limit, cursing under your breath at the burn he sends throughout your whole body.

shuddering under his grip, he starts his pace, rutting his hips into you at slow pace. he treats you so carefully, as if you might break if he makes a wrong move. you're a porcelain doll for him, a porcelain doll that clenches around his cock deliciously every time he hits your sweet spot.

"doing so good for me, bunny" that nickname again, it drove you crazy.

you pant and bury your face deeper into the pillow, trying to suppress you moans from him. you didn't want to give him the benefit of your moans, but he makes it so hard when he angles his thrusts to hit your g-spot over and over, prompting more and more sounds for him to drink in.

"taking me so well in your little hole" he keeps praising "this greedy pussy was made just for me" he pulls you closer with a hand to your tummy and drags it lower, low enough to roll small circles to your clit. you can't help but buck your hips against him, driving him insane with the way your little tail jiggled every time he thrusted into you.

he grips one of your cheeks with his hands, spreading you open to get a better view of the little plug, pushed neatly into your tiny hole.

"sh-sho- fuck! 'm cumming, 'm cumming!" you exclaim, your walls pulling him deeper into your cunt.

he almost cums along with you, but he remembers to take your phone and start recording again, capturing your hole as it clenches around his cock in the frame.

a few curses and he's lost in the pleasure, barely conscious enough to hold the phone correctly as he spills everything inside your tight hole. he records your trembling figure, and he puts the phone closer to your cunt, focusing in on the sight of him pulling out his cock and his cum seeping down your thighs, oozing out of your little hole as you pant and drool all over the picture.

the last scene he captures with the camera is the one of him pulling you up, positioning your body to have you kneeling on the bed, facing the mirror. he records your fucked out body, struggling to stay up and look towards the mirror.

its a sight enough to make anyone cum. its a sight enough to make atsumu cum as he sits in his bed, imagining its his cum that drips down your legs and makes a lovely puddle of slick on the bed. he sits in disbelief as he watches the next video, because he recognizes the red head that kneels behind the fucked out girl, caressing the skin of her hips lovingly.

he definitely has to talk to shoyo when he's back from his trip.

#hqcest #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu scenarios #smut #hinata #hinata shoyo #hinata x reader #hinata x reader smut #hinata smut #hinata scenarios #hqintheclub #cw. incest #cw. step cest #cw. blackmailing

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crossdressingdeath · 4 years ago

Note

if their genders were reversed JFM would 100% be viewed as an abuse victim. like whether he is or not, if he was a woman and madam yu a man, people would be far more sympathetic

i know everyone gets frustrated at or hates overly passive characters but,, arguing with her gets nowhere. she can't be reasoned with. ignoring her is the marginally better option because even someone as batshit as madam yu can only spend so long shouting at someone who isn't responding, and i'm pretty sure if he divorced her, her reputation would be wrecked, where would she even go? i don't think she /would/ willingly go anyway. she's not going to give up her position and her favourite punching bag.

there's just no pleasing madam yu?? jfm tries his best to just ignore her. she even has separate living quarters, but she can't help but go out of her way to stir crap up.

like when wwx woke up after xuanwu cave, what was she doing?!? she came to his sick bed just to start an argument and accuse wwx's mother of cheating,, while he's laying in his sickbed,, wtf is wrong with her??

and what was jfm supposed to do? he tries to not respond to her provocations, but she doesn't stop

can you imagine if he even tried to say 'lets not argue here, a-ying is still sick' ?? she would blow tf up again, bc how dare jfm show even the slightest degree of consideration for wwx right??

like its easy to get frustrated with jfm but there's just no winning with her, unless he just straight up throws her out of lotus pier. which he probably /should/ have done long ago.

ok i got curious and looked it up and apparently in ancient china there were only 7 specific reasons you were allowed to divorce a wife, and unfortunately 'being a huge bitch' isn't one of them. so i guess jfm couldn't even to that.

anyway obviously jfm isn't perfect or even,, that great but madam yu is just an entirely impossible person to deal with. some of us are unfortunate enough to know a madam yu irl and with people like her, you can not do a single thing without it being twisted into something else.

Oh, he could have divorced YZY. Jealousy and talking too much are both listed as grounds for divorce on the website I found. Like, it’s sexist, but he could’ve done it. He had that power. If nothing else he could probably have locked her into permanent seclusion for... y’know, slander and abuse of her authority over his disciples and such. As a man in a patriarchal society there were a lot of ways he could’ve stopped YZY. Yes, his marriage made him miserable, but he could have shut her right the fuck down if he just grew a fucking spine and did it. So like. JFM isn’t entirely a victim in this, he was passive to the point of refusing to use his power to do something about the situation. Ignoring her... is honestly kind of selfish; he’s deciding to stand down and let YZY do whatever she wants to avoid making things more awkward for him when “whatever she wants” includes whipping a child for being the son of a woman she hated.

Basically... yes, YZY was impossible to deal with. There was no winning with her. She went out of her way to make things horrible for everyone around her to the point of showing up in the room where WWX is recovering from nearly dying specifically to hurl abuse at him and at JFM for paying attention to him. But acting like JFM had no way out when everyone knew she treated him like shit (thereby giving him grounds for a divorce or at least forcing her into seclusion) and he did nothing... is no more accurate than saying he’s at fault for everything that happened in the family because he “let” YZY hurl abuse at everyone around her all the time.

#mdzs #jiang fengmian #lotus mom #anon #asks

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Note

Secret saturdays prompt

The secret scientists and/or argost finding out Zaks s1 finale secret. The show did a 6 month time skip and never showed us /how/ they came to find out.

Zak got sick when they came back from Antarctica. It wasn’t something particularly foreign to him. Traveling all over the world meant that he picked up a lot of bugs. It was an occupational hazard. Or, well, not occupational, exactly, because Zak didn’t get paid for what he did, but...

Yeah.

(Maybe he should get paid for this. He did a lot of work, if he was being honest.)

Usually, though, nothing he got was this bad. Mom theorized it was because he overused his powers. Dad thought it was just the stress and the shock- Both things that could impact an immune system. Doyle kept making jokes about bottled water, because, yeah, that was the problem.

Not.

A cold was something he could deal with, though. A nice distraction, even, from having to figure out the implications of the Kur artifact lighting up when pointed at him.

(Maybe, he hoped, Kur was an inherited title, and when he defeated Kur-controlled-by-Argost, it jumped to him.)

(Maybe it was just broken. It wasn’t like Doyle was all that spiritual.)

(Maybe it lit up whenever it was near someone with Kur-like powers.)

(Maybe Kur was living in the back of Zak’s mind and any minute now-)

(Maybe... Maybe Zak was Kur.)

Except, the universe had abruptly decided to hate Zak, because the illness was also screwing with his powers. Every so often, they’d just turn on out of nowhere, not even doing anything, and it would hurt. Like in the ice caves with Doyle, when he was flooded with more spiritual energy than his body could safely handle. Like when he overused his powers in Antarctica.

It really wasn’t conducive to the whole ‘ignoring it’ thing he was going for.

Mom opened the door to his room, and he groaned as the light hit his eyes. “Hey,” she said, maneuvering around the door with a tray in her hands, “how are you feeling?”

“Bad,” said Zak.

Mom put the tray on the table next to his bed and took his temperature. “Still high,” she said. “Do you feel up to eating? I have soup.”

“Okay,” said Zak. He sighed and rubbed his eyes and frowned at the gold reflecting off of them. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his powers off. With another groan, he forced himself into a sitting position. “I’ve been having weird dreams,” he said, taking the spoon. It felt heavy.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like... There’s something moving around outside, in the woods, and I think it’s Fisk, but Fisk and Zon are with me.” He poked the soup, breaking the thin skin that had formed on top of it. “You’d think I’d be having dreams about that but... I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” said Mom, ruffling his hair. “You should probably take a shower next time you get up. You’re all sweaty.”

“Okay,” said Zak.

“I’m worried,” said Drew. “I think there’s something supernatural about this illness.”

Doc looked up from the culture they’d taken of Zak’s throat swab. “Really?” he said. “You don’t think it was a pathogen he encountered when he went into the Antarctica cryptid to fight Argost?”

Both parents shuddered. They could still hardly believe they’d let Zak do that, even if the fate of the world was in the balance.

“He’s dreaming about the prowler,” said Drew, before reciting what Zak told her.

“That could be a coincidence,” protested Doc.

“You know,” said Doyle, entering the room with a bag of chips and his hair plastered to his forehead with mud, “after all this, I’m not sure I believe in coincidences anymore.”

“No food in the lab!” shouted Doc, pointing an accusing finger at Doyle.

“Jeez, dude, lighten up. What’s the worse that could happen?”

“You could ingest a deadly chemical,” said Drew.

“Oh,” said Doyle. “Yeah, I guess that would be bad.”

“Did you find the prowler?” asked Drew.

“Nope,” said Doyle. “Not hide nor hair, even with Jurassic overhead. But what I did find...” He made a face. “You know the river?”

“Yes, Doyle,” said Doc, “we are in fact aware of the river we live next to.”

“Yeah, cool. All the fish are dead.”

“What?” asked Drew, raising her eyebrows.

“Dead,” said Doyle. “Belly-up. A lot of the plants near the water aren’t doing so great, either. I’d stock up on bottled water if I were you guys.” He took a sip from his own bottle of water, as if to prove a point. “Now, what were talking about when I came in? Do you think this prowler has something to do with the little guy being sick?”

“Yes,” said Drew.

“Maybe,” said Doc.

They looked at each other.

“I think we need more help,” said Drew. “He’s not getting better.”

“Grimes and Lawhorn?”

“They do specialize in paramedicine. They’re even working on a cure for everything. Unless you think this is neurological, in which case we should call Dr. Bara again.”

Doc made a face. “Not after what happened last time.” More than half of the house was still in ruins.

“Hm, I don’t think Grimes and Lawhorn will be that happy to see us, either,” said Drew.

“They weren’t hurt that badly,” protested Doc. “Arthur just likes to exaggerate. They aren’t even O-positive!”

“Even so,” said Drew. “But, yes, I think we should contact them.”

Zak stirred as Fisk picked him up. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, sleepily.

“Hrry nn thhn yueeep.”

“It’s fine.” Zak sat up a little so he could rest his head on Fisk’s collarbone. “Where are we going?”

Fisk answered, and Zak nodded sagely.

“I’m really sick, huh?” He closed his eyes and let himself go to sleep again.

“Miranda, Arthur, we didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well,” said Arthur, “after that whole think with skunk-stripe’s mirror-world double, they’re kind of on edge when it comes to tall stuff, here.” He nodded at Fisk. “They asked us to monitor.”

“We also wanted to discuss what happened in Antarctica,” said Miranda. “Your report felt... incomplete.”

“Right,” said Doc. At least they’d ironed out a cover story before coming. “We’d like to take care of our son, first, though.”

“Of course,” said Miranda. “We’re in no hurry.”

“Hey, there, buddy, how are you feeling?”

“Dr. Grimes?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

Zak blinked slowly. “Better.”

“Good!” said Grimes. “We weren’t sure if that would do anything, but there we have it. Seems like you picked something up from Kur after all.” They spun in their chair and didn’t notice how Zak cringed at the name. “Had to give you an Ancient Sumerian protective amulet. Not easy to get those right!”

“Oh,” said Zak, who had been wondering about the thing tied around his wrist. “Cool. Where are Mom and Dad?”

“Talking to Miranda and Arthur.”

“Oh,” repeated Zak. “Why’re they here?”

“They wanted to talk about Kur,” said Grimes. “I heard you beat it and Argost both! That’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” said Zak, fiddling with the amulet. A spike of pain went through his head, and with it came a sense of movement, images of a forest, the outside of Lawhorn and Grimes’s home.

... What?

“Hey, Zak, are you okay?” asked Grimes. They said something else, but Zak didn’t hear him.

“Something’s coming,” said Zak.

Grimes rolled their chair to the door and pulled it open. “Saturdays! You kid is being ominous!”

Arthur frowned as he watched Doc and Drew leave the room. He wasn’t good at reading people, but-

“They’re hiding something,” said Miranda.

“I think you’re right, buns,” said Arthur.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “I can understand you not remembering my name, Arthur,” she said. “But if you call me that again, I’m going to hit you. With something heavy.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your circuit boards in a twist. What do you think they’re hiding, though? Why hide anything? Like, they told us the parts they screwed up on, letting Argost getting away and all. What could possibly be worse than that?”

Miranda frowned and rubbed her lower lip. “They aren’t the type to lie to make themselves look good, Arthur. There’s something else. The timing of Zak’s illness... They would lie to protect each other, to protect their children.”

“What, do you think short stuff was poisoned by Argost or something? Not that it’d be out of character.”

The idea that Argost got away with Kur, or at least that he had the Saturday’s under his control... That was scary. But it had to be the second one. Argost was patient, but not that patient. There would be wide-scale destruction.

If he was threatening the Saturdays into working for him by holding the kid hostage, that was bad enough. Even if it probably felt like a consolation prize from Argost’s perspective.

“No, it wouldn’t,” said Miranda. “We’ll have to look into it and hope Lawhorn and Grimes can find a solution.”

“We can do more than that! We can go back to their house and see what they’re giving Argost!”

“Arthur, no. We don’t even know if that’s what’s happening. We can’t just break into their house.”

“We can,” Arthur argued, crossing his arms. “You just don’t want to.”

“These are our friends,” said Miranda. “I was only giving a possibility. They might not be hiding anything at all. They could just be worried about Zak. I know I am. Besides, Drew has her mercenary little brother guarding the place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Arthur, waving his hand, “whatever. I don’t want the kid hurt, either. We’ll talk to them again when he’s better, maybe they’ll change their story.”

Arthur was about to elaborate on this when a rotund, three-legged, three-armed creature with far too many eyes tore through the walls.

Zak gasped and reached for the Claw. Which he didn’t have because he was still in his pajamas. His head pounded. The talisman wrapped around his wrist burned. Dad and Mom stepped between him and the monster, and Fisk pulled him away, to the side of the room, out of the line of fire.

“Who dares to take my prey from me?” growled the creature. “Who dares to come between me and Kur?”

“Azag,” breathed Zak. He didn’t know how he knew this cryptid’s name. He just did.

“The Sumerian sickness demon?” asked his mother, brandishing her sword.

“Kur,” said Azag, all of its eyes fixed on Zak, “the flesh you wear now is weak, and I will take great pleasure in watching it fail you, in watching it trap you, oh Kur, great king of the cryptids.”

“Stay away from him,” said Mom.

“Or else,” said Dad.

The monster started laughing. Then it was hit from behind by one of Arthur’s energy discharge weapons. It hissed and righted itself.

“Do you think I fear his mortal servants? Fools!” It lunged for Dad.

“No!” shouted Zak. His powers flared and the talisman burst into a hundred tiny pieces as he forced himself into Azag’s mind.

(Too familiar- Had he done this before?)

“Can’t,” he panted, “hold for long. Hurry!”

Grimes snatched a bottle from a cabinet, and a syringe from a drawer. “Just hold it a minute longer, Zak. If this is what I think it is-” They didn’t finish the thought as they filled the syringe with the liquid from the bottle.

Then he plunged the needle into the creature’s stony hide. It screamed, the sound and pain echoing through the connection Zak had made with it. His vision went white. He felt his eyes roll back in his head and his knees go out.

Nothing more.

“What was that?” asked Miranda, staring at the melted remains of Azag.

“Disease demon,” said Grimes, giddily. “Lawhorn and I always theorized- I’m so glad I was able to test it! The panacea! I wonder what diseases it represented and how they’ll be affected...”

“Whatever,” said Arthur. “I’m more interested in what that was.” He pointed at Zak, who had collapsed and was currently being fussed over by his parents. “You two have a lot of explaining to do. And you’re going to start with why that thing was calling him Kur.”

#secret saturdays #once again I find myself trawling sumerian myth for characters #fic #my fic #prompt #prompt fill #it's been a bit hasn't it?

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ladyvader23 · 4 years ago

Text

Darth Vader’s Unplanned Conversation

Thanks to @kittandchips for the prompt idea: How would Vader handle the twins thinking one of them was unplanned and therefore unwanted? Such delicious angst and fluff put this immediately on the list to write!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was so rare that Vader arrived home before the twins did. But today, he’d managed to sneak away early, and he was home, having just dismissed Miss Laena for the day, waiting for his children’s arrival. He was not a traditional father, by any means, but he still enjoyed family time with his young ones. He didn’t know what they’d do; perhaps he’d take them on a ride in one of his newest ships. Luke would love that, and Leia might even, too, though she wasn’t usually as vocal about it.

Then again, it was a school night. If he was being a good father, he’d sit with them and help with their homework.

The possibilities were endless. He just hoped his Master continued to leave him alone for the evening.

He sensed the twins arriving long before they even arrived on property. Their chauffeur would arrive in the hangar soon, drop them off, and they’d be heading up. He’d surprise them in the hallway, he decided, moving into position. He doubted he’d really surprise them; even untrained, Luke and Leia had a habit of being able to at least know when he was home.

He continued to keep tabs on them until they were in the lift heading for the apartment. He tried to make himself less intimidating, not wishing them to think they were in trouble, and he’d managed what he assumed was a comfortable pose by the time the lift doors opened and in walked Luke and Leia.

They immediately paused, looking at him with...admittedly, odd looks. Then, to his confusion, Leia glared, throwing her bag aside. He was about to remind her to put it away in the designated spot when she stormed up to him and crossed her arms. “So. Which one of us did you not want?!”

Vader blinked down at his little girl, just seven years old, completely surprised by the accusation. Then, he looked up at Luke, reaching out through their bond to try to get more information, only to be flooded with feelings of hurt and sadness. Luke, at least, tried to hide it as he put his bag away in the appropriate cubby.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He replied, finally, looking back at his daughter. “Explain.”

But Leia huffed, and instead of explaining anything, stormed around him and off towards her room. “Fine! Don’t answer, then!”

And before he had a chance to react, she’d entered her room, the door swishing closed behind her.

Vader stared after her, even more confused than before, and turned back to Luke. “Explain.” he demanded. Usually his son was more willing to offer more information--or at least, he was easier to coerce.

But Luke didn’t reply with anything but a shrug. “Nothing. Just girl stuff, I guess.”

“Do not lie to me!” He snapped, instantly sensing the lie. “You may not be yelling at me, but I know I have apparently done something to upset the both of you. Now explain.”

He expected Luke to cave, especially as he pressed along their bond...but Luke shook his head, and he too, walked past him. “I don’t want to know.” Was all he mumbled.

It was a good thing Vader didn’t have any hair left. He might have started pulling it out. He’d learned long ago that bullying his children into answering him like they were some kind of rebel wasn’t the answer, nor was using the Force on them. Parenting books didn’t exactly say using the Force on children was bad, but based on their guidelines, he’d made the assumption himself.

Still. It was too bad, especially as Luke too, shut himself in his room.

Vader stood glaring at the doors, wondering how the fun night he’d had planned for them had turned so randomly...angsty. He tried to wrack his brain for anything he might have done to make Leia think he didn’t want one of them. Nothing came to mind--as far as he was concerned, he’d shown far more affection to them than he had anyone else. In fact, using a rare free evening to want to spend time with them was proof enough that he more than wanted both of his children. But children weren’t logical beings; there was plenty of evidence of that.

He squared his shoulders, deciding which twin to face. Usually the answer was Luke...but this time, the Force seemed to pull him in the direction of Leia’s room.

Leia it was, then.

Yet he paused before entering, taking a moment to make sure he was as calm as a Sith Lord could be. Leia, as much as he cared for her, had a talent for making him angry in the blink of an eye. That never ended well when he was attempting to get something out of her, be it information or cooperation on her chores. As soon as he felt like he could handle anything she would throw at him, he entered the room.

Surprisingly, the room was dark. She hadn’t bothered turning on the lights. He didn’t need infrared sensors in his eye plates to know she was stretched out face-first on her bed, head buried in her pillow. He could very clearly sense that himself, and the emotion coming from her was no longer anger, but...intense sadness.

Again he tried to think of anything he might have done or said and honestly could think of nothing. So, tentatively, careful of the toys left on the floor, he made his way over to her bed. Though he usually preferred to stand, he winced as he sat down on the small child-size bed, his joints groaning in pain.

Something else he’d noticed since becoming a father: children liked it when you got down on their level to talk to them. He rarely did it, but this seemed like the appropriate moment for it, though he still didn’t know why.

“Leia.”

He wished his vococorder allowed for him to speak gently to her.

She didn’t stir. The only response was a muffled, “Go away.”

“I will not. Not until you tell me what is wrong.” Silence. Wishing he could sigh, he looked up at the ceiling, trying to maintain control of his impatience. “I cannot help unless you tell me what the problem is.”

Suddenly Leia sat upright, whirling to face him, and he was startled to find tears running down her face as she shouted, “I know you only wanted one of us, okay!”

That statement did nothing to clear up Vader’s confusion, but her tears...Force, he hated it when she cried. He was reduced to feeling helpless, like anything he did would just make it worse. He doubted she knew the effect her tears had on him, and he hoped she never figured it out or he was doomed.

Hell, he hoped the Emperor never figured it out.

“I do not understand what you mean by that. You...can you explain?”

It was so rare that he asked for information instead of demanded it. It seemed to be the right choice of words, however, because though she glared and looked away from him, she elaborated.

“Kenny asked which one of us you didn’t want because mommy’s and daddy’s only plan for one baby.”

Vader frowned, still trying to figure out the logic, then when he did, hot fury flashed through him, fury that he had to clamp down on to keep from scaring his daughter, or worse, giving her the wrong impression.

“Kenny who?!”

“Kenny Albrecht.” Leia replied glumly. “Is it Luke? He likes more of the same stuff you do.”

He...had murdered children before, but he was far less likely to do so now that he had his own. As soon as he was done fixing this mess, he’d definitely be giving Kenny’s parents a surprise call. The thought of their faces when they realized who was calling was almost enough to cheer him up.

Almost.

“Come.” He stood, again wincing at the strain on his joints the movement caused. “It would appear this is a conversation for the both of you.”

He expected Leia to resist, but she thankfully followed, her head hung as if she were somehow in trouble. He did not miss her sniffles, and each one was like a knife to his chest.

Yes. He would definitely make sure Kenny Albrecht knew never to bother his children again.

They entered Luke’s room. Luke, at least, had turned on the light, and he was building a toy ship model, though not very enthusiastically. He looked up when they entered, and Vader felt the normally cheery attitude of his son plummet further.

Vader crossed over to the bed and again sat down, facing both of them. “Come here.” He pointed at the spot in front of him. They were so small, even sitting down he towered over them.

They thankfully complied, though Luke shot Leia a look. “I don’t want to--”

“You will listen carefully. Both of you. Am I clear?” He waited until they nodded, though Luke did so reluctantly. To even think his children had been so affected by stupid Kenny who was far beneath them--

“It is true that your...your mother and I did not know we were expecting twins.” He didn’t want to talk about Padme, not ever, but he found his children forced the subject more often than not. He would never get used to the pain it caused him, but if it helped them… “We...wanted to be surprised when you were born. I did not know…” he hadn’t yet told them the circumstances surrounding their birth and how he’d almost lost them. He wasn’t about to tell them now. “I did not know until you were born. But not for one moment did I ever consider not wanting either of you. In fact, the moment I laid eyes on both of you, I knew you were meant to be mine.”

He couldn’t help the fierce possessiveness in his voice. They were his. How dare anyone suggest he’d ever want otherwise?!

“While our interests may be different, you and I do share many similarities in our personalities.” He told Leia specifically. “I do not need nor want you to like everything I like. You are perfect the way you are.”

Leia’s lower lip trembled, but she nodded and he sensed her calming down.

“You do not need to know who it was I didn’t want because there is no such thing. I want and need both of you.” He told Luke. Luke let out a breath, his shoulders slumping in relief.

“This Kenny Albrecht is an idiot...and yes, I know that is not a nice word, but it is true!” He had to be careful what language he use around the twins because otherwise they’d use it at school and he’d get phone calls from their teacher. It was stupid, and he doubted the teacher liked calling him, but there must have been some rule at the school requiring it.

Carefully, he opened up his bond with both of them so they could feel his sincerity and the genuine fatherly affection he had for both of them. He paused, marveling at how bright and innocent they were as they clumsily probed the emotions he allowed them to see. It was clear they didn’t understand all of them, being so young, so he bit back his pride, and said, “There is nothing and no one else in this galaxy that I love more than the two of you. Do not ever let anyone make you forget that.”

He very rarely ever said the “L” word. It was not in the nature of the Sith to do so. If the Emperor ever found out, there would be trouble. But when there were important moments when he needed his children to understand the severity of what he was saying, he would say what was necessary.

Tonight, it was necessary.

Immediately, the twins launched themselves into his arms, and he held them close as they grasped onto him for dear life, as if they had genuinely been afraid that somehow Kenny’s idiotic comment would make him remember he didn’t want one of them and give them away. The thought made him clench his teeth, and absently he ruffled both of their hair to calm himself down.

“Now. I am home early. I wished to do something fun with the both of you.”

Luke perked up, looking hopeful. “Like fly?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, son. Like fly. Maybe we can pick up some treats on the way home.”

The thought of him walking into a treat shop with his wide-eyed children was a bit ridiculous, but if it meant making his children forget about Kenny and his stupidity, he’d make it happen.

“Okay!” Leia grinned. “I want Jogan ice cream!”

“It will be done.” He stood. “Now go and get ready. I have a call to make.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I take prompts! <3

#Darth Vader #Dad vader #dad vader series #luke skywalker #leia organa #luke and leia #Little Luke #little leia #poor babies #they need hugs #so they got one #vader is starting to get good at being a dad #i would hope so after 7 years #though he's still awkward #writing #my writing #fanfic #star wars

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mka1098 · 4 years ago

Text

My Love is God

My Love Is God

Veronica x JD modern AU

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing; death; murder; depictions of violence and blood; mentions of sociopathy and insanity; sex

I have a couple of things to explain about this AU because it’s a bit confusing. This is also gonna be a mess since I’m trying something new here.

Backstory: JD and Veronica met in the lunchroom of their senior year when JD moved to her school. They met in a 7-11 and he was drawn to her and she didn’t push him away. They made close friends and he was so utterly in love with her. JD admitted his family problems to her and a lot of the deranged thoughts in his head. Veronica loved him a lot so she calmed him down and took him to therapy. It took time but he began to control his bloodlust and anger issues. Being 18, he moved out of his father’s house and found an apartment nearby Veronica’s home. JD became a normal teenager, more troubled than most but never wanted to do anything like bomb the school again. Veronica was his lifeline. She had saved him and helped him and he knew that. He fought his dangerous tendencies and continued going to therapy. One day, Veronica got into a huge fight with her best friend, Heather Chandler, who wanted her to get with one of the college boys at her party. It ends with them no longer being friends and Veronica humiliates Heather but reveals that Heather was too scared to even get close to kissing the college guy she was with. Heather is angered by this and hatches a plan to kill Veronica; she succeeds. And JD has just found out.

Go easy on me please; it’s my first time writing present tense and I’m very lost

My Love Is God

Heather Chandler hums to the mirror in her locker. Powdering her face during the passing period between the 4th and 5th period had become a regular affair. Her face got so oily; what a treacherous look would it be if people saw her face shiny? Biting her lip, Heather adjusts the red scrunchie in her hair. Ram has previously mussed it up in class and if not for her reputation; she’d rip hima new asshole.

“Heather.” A voice calls behind her. Her eyes roll back in annoyance; who the hell thought that they were good enough to address her?

“What in god’s name, do you want.” She says with bite in her voice. Her view catches on a darkened teen-boy. His long trenchcoat looked solely out of fashion and terrible for the nice summer weather. Her nose crinkled at his look. Face nearly covered up to the eyes, the boy stares directly at her. His dark brown eyes narrow into slits.

“I’d like to take this outside.” He says with a dead tone. Heather’s eyes roll. What was the point of entertaining some idiot’s needs?

“Look, I don’t give a fuck about what you like. I have people to attend to, so unless you have an upper. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She snaps. His expression remains unfazed, much to her annoyance. He was supposed to cower and fade into the background. What a \\\ douche. She fluffs her ponytail and steps out away from her locker.

“If that’s what it will take.” He calls after her. Heather spins around, glaring at him harshly. If this kid was kidding, she was going to end him. Heather puts out her hand, accepting the offer. “One the condition… we take this outside.” He continues. His stare was burning into hers. Heather inwardly scoffs at that, she had a harsh look and didn’t appreciate anyone matching it.

Heather breaths in but finally caves. She was fresh out and in need. “Fine.”

The teen doesn’t say much to her on the way; he was taking long, stiff strides. His arms and hands were clenched into fists. Heather had become a master of reading body language. This boy had a plan, but clearly, was unsure about it. Heather spoke not a word. Her eyes scan over him like a hawk. His appearance did merit a reliable product, that was for certain. That terrible coat would be great for cover.

“Where are you taking me?” Heather demands. It had registered that she had not a clue his name minutes prior however, she knew better than to act like a fool and ask like a child. “I have places to be after this. Do not, make me late. You will regret up.” Heather says haughtly, giving no empty promises.

He stops suddenly, their surroundings were empty streets and a 7-11 in only the visible future. Heather growls harshly under her breath. “You want to know where we are? We’re here. Where it all began.” He spoke in a low tone. It was slightly raspy and very attractive if she were to be honest. Heather’s perfected blonde brow rose.

“I know your plan. I catch on quick. I get it, I’m hot, I’m a heather. I’m the Heather. If you want a quickie I take them in a closet. You’re just extra.” Heather says in a cackling tone. If only the other Heather were here; they’d love the show of embarrassing a loner.

The boy’s expression began to morphe, not into embarrassment, not into fluster, not even impression. Instead, his hand reaches up to the hood and it tugs the fabric down behind him. “I’m not interested in fucking you.” He says in a deadpan tone. Heather laughs in a wicked way. This boy was stupid, sure but amusing as well.

“That’s cute.” She says, putting on a seductive smirk. The boy scowled at her.

It was now she could see his features; somewhere in her mind, there was a face match. Perhaps his father was a movie star? His hair was messy and long; skater boy hot indeed. His jaw, sharp as ever. Wide nose, but not bad. His face sure matched his voice.

Heathers tsks approvingly. “I get what I want though. Don’t hold back.” She winks at him. He frowns harder.

“I’d like to talk to you about someone.”

Heather licks her lip. “Enlighten me.” Her voice having now a delicate flare to it.

The boy glares at her. “Veronica Sawyer.” He says in a harsh tone.

Oh. Her. She was a nuisance, to say the least. Heather sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. “Do we have to? Her funeral was last month. It’s kinda overrated.” She says mindlessly. His face tightens.

“You were the last to see her alive.” He accuses her. Heather’s eyes roll again; God, why he about Veronica? Heather was a hot bitch and in front of him. Besides, Sawyer was being a pain in the ass, not the mention a huge snitch.

“Not really The hospital medics took her in. They didn’t let me in.” Her lips purse into a pout. “It was unfortunate. I tried to warn her from stepping into the road. The cars were going oh so fast.”

The boy snarled at her. “Don’t act so innocent. You hated her. You were friends and then you hated her.”

Heather gasps dramatically. Sure it was suspicious but she had been playing it off so well! “How dare you! Do you even know how traumatic that was? Watching even ex, your best friend die! The therapy has finally stopped my self-blame.” Heather defends.

“Don’t even try and think that act works on me.” He growls.

Heather let out a high-pitched sobbed. “Why do you-”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He shouts at her. Heather steps back in shook. That was unexpected.

“I know you killed her.” a finger shoves into her vision. “I know because she was so scared of going. But she went anyway because goddamnit she just had to see the best in people and hope for the best. She went because she wanted things to be just a bit more okay with you guys. But she was so scared, she knew you were going to do something; I knew you were gonna do something. You pushed her in front of that car. And I know you cackled like a fucking witch while doing it.” The boy’s mouth sprouts word afterword; his fury was increasing more and more in the most obvious way.

Heather racks her brain. Who was he? Why did he talk to Veronica? That girl only had two other friends after Heather let go of… oh… ohhhhhh.

“So what.” She says with danger. “You as her pretty little boyfriend is now going to cry about it? Get over it, she was no big thing. I’m sure the sex wasn’t that good to miss it. We’re all long past; catch up.” Heather steps forward, her intimidation factor went higher and higher up. “Calm your tits JD. No one else is worried. Learn to read a room.”

JD’s face explodes into angry. “You dumb bitch. You’ve never cared for a single person in your life, have you? Well, let me tell you this. We were in love. So in love. She was the best person on this shithole we call earth. Veronica saw only the best and fixed anything she could. She never turned away from someone who needed help. She fixed me. She stayed with me. And you took the brightest light away.”

Heather let out a huge laugh. “Wow, dramatic. Definitely her little plaything. Love is overrated. She’s not anything anymore. Get past yourself and find a new slut.” She says with amusement. “Be glad she died painlessly. That was the best gift I could give her. Well, painless after she was dragged across the street, but still.” Her laugh fluffed and sugared; JD didn’t seem to apparatus it. How rude.

“She hated you. She pitied you. She almost wanted to take you to therapy like me. But in the end, she decided you weren’t even worth the effort.” JD says darkly. Heather’s expression quickly shut down. Had she heard him correctly.

“Very funny joke.” She attempts her easy-going tone of voice but the slip-up didn’t pass him by. His mouth twists into a grin.

“Denial. Now you know how it feels. Rejection, you’re getting a lot of frists today. Congratulations princess of the fucking school.” JD’s voice echoes all around her. Coated in a thick layer of sarcasm and condensation, he spits it out at her. “Veronica felt sorry for you. That’s why she joined your little club. Sorry for the little princess who no one really cared about. She thought, maybe I can help her. But you want to know what happened? She met you and realized… what mattered? Certainly not you. Why else did you think she took Duke to the doctors? Duke was meant enough to the world to be fixed and now she’s all brand new. Mcnamara got a personality, kinda. But Veronica thought anyone worth it, was. Too bad that wasn’t you.” His wicked smirk sears her eyes.

“You’re bullshit,” Heather growls. He laughs; the sound is demented.

“Am I? Or am I right?” He continues his speech. “My Veronica wanted to help people. She did. She helped me, she saved me. She saved Martha, Duke, everyone. Just not you. You’re not going anywhere. Everyone knows… don’t you?”

His words pound into her head. Like in a small tunnel, they echo and get louder. “Shut up.” She snaps weakly. Her ears were about to bleed. Her head began to scream. How long had it been going on? The looks; the pitying looks? The laughs, the condescending laughs that she should have been the one making. She was the queen of the school; she was going to the top of the world. Did everyone think she’d melt to the bottom? “Shut up!” JD’s voice didn’t stop. Their pace; increased. The volume; skyward.

“Veronica would have been here to tell me to stop; to tell me to go home. She would have said, breath a little and remember me. Her hand would have touched my shoulder and slowly she would walk me home and talk about anything she could do to help. She would have cleared my mind, given me my meds, and sang a song terribly to ground me. Veronica would have been here. But she’s not. Actually, even if was alive, she’d wouldn’t do anything of that. She’d probably dance around with me with a smile on her face saying, babe you’re doing great..” JD’s voice became mixed with wicked, deranged laughter. Like her own evil cackles, but much, much worse. The insane glint in his eyes was terrifying.

She sucks in a breath; one final one to perceive her dignity, her pride. “Veronica this. Veronica that. For the love of god, she’s DEAD! She doesn’t matter anymore, you fucking jac- oof” Heather fell forward. Had he punched her in the stomach? What a weirdo! Heather went to take in a breath, only to find she couldn’t. What the fuck? The pain was there in her body; it was growing exponentially fast. Her eyes trailed down and oh- oh- oh holy mother of fucking shit!

“DID YOU FUC-” She not longer had the ability to speak; not when there was a knife sticking out of her body. JD’s eyes stare down the crumbling girl.

His face, wide with a grin.

His hands, perfectly clean.

His insanity bared itself to the world.

“You fucking psychopath.” She growls her last words. The red liquid was leaving her body fast.

JD remains unfazed. His deaden look, his empathy free eyes. “Sociopathic tendencies, actually. Diagnosed. They’re actually not that dangerous. This? This the anger-management issue at work.” He smiles. “This is what it feels like on the other side of the killing.” He crouches down to meet her face to face. Heather musters the strength to growl.

“What do you... want me to say? Dear diary? My teenage angst bullsh- bullshit now has a body count?” She snarls back. JD laughs.

“No.” His voice, dark as ever. “You’ve never loved a person in your life clearly. And no one has ever loved you, not a surprise there.” He stands up straight, looming like a darkened villain. “Let me tell you something. I love Veronica Sawyer. She was going to be Veronica Dean. I love her. More than anything in this fucking shit-world. I’ll worship her till the end of time. We had the strongest love in the universe. She was a goddess; you shouldn’t have killed her.”

Heather’s eyes roll for the last time. “Dear god, this whole love shit you’re trying to pull on me is really annoying the last minutes of my death” She voices drily. JD crouches down to her again, lifting her chin with a rough tug.

“Our love was so strong; it could have killed dinosaurs. I’ll settle for killing you though.” He threw down her face aggressively. The blood letched out to the ground. She scowls for the last time.

“We could have made a pretty good murder couple.” She comments. JD laughs and steps away, removing black gloves to shove in his pocket. “Dear God, just kill me now.” Heather expresses haughtily.

JD laughs darkly. “Right you are my dear. Veronica and I… our love was god; it could have killed worlds. But she’s gone now. I’m left. So yes. My love is god.” Heather’s eyes began to feel heavy; was he slipping away farthing into the distance or was she dying faster? This was it wasn’t it? She grimaces.

“My love is god. It has killed you. Isn’t that just beautiful?”

Okay, I know it seems like I made Veronica seem like a Mary Sue and JD as this romantic guy. Let me explain things now that I have finished the story.

Veronica hated Heather C and after helping JD, she started helping other people but she chose not to help Heather C who clearly has problems

Veronica was actually kinda okay with the murder. There was nowhere to put this and I briefly mentioned it, sorta at least, but if she didn’t like the person she was fine with JD killing them. She wanted to curb JD’s bloodlust, but she had accepted it as part of him and never was fully like THIS IS WRONG. As JD said, she would have laughed with him as he killed Heather C.

Veronica was also kinda manipulative. I didn’t know where to put this but basically, Veronica started to isolate Heather without her even knowing. She’s not a Mary Sue, I swear it’s just not a long story

Heather C. had a lot of clear mental issues that Veronica literally just ignored and used to her advantage. She has such narcissistic behaviors, Veronica was able to get people to turn on her all while she thought she was the queen

People stopped caring about Heather C. Like they basically just made fun of her and were sarcastic to her. But with all of her mental issues and stuff, it twisted in her mind to make them think they were worshipping her. People shot her dirty looks or laughed at her, but she didn’t notice that.

Heather D. got help for her bulimia because of Veronica. She thus was given kindness and was not a huge bitch

Heather M. also became less of a bitch. She wasn’t one before, it was just she followed Heather C. around too much. Veronica helped her.

Martha had Veronica back and it helped her feel like she had a true friend and ended up saving her from her depression

VERONICA IS STILL NOT AN ANGEL I REALIZE THAT’S HOW IT SOUNDS

JD is possessive and Veronica has learned to live with it. It’s kinda unhealthy but not dangerous to her so that’s why she puts up with it. It’s directed towards other people

JD praises Veronica. She is the only thing in his life. She’s his mildly unhealthy but weirdly good fixation

JD is adamant he and Veronica will end up together. There is nothing else. It will happen in his mind. His head is still a little twisted, though better than before. He’s not trying to kill for baby reasons now. He’d kill for Veronica and that’s basically it

Veronica’s parents do not like JD but deal with him for her

Heather C. invited Veronica to a girl’s trip to bond a bit and make-up, then she pushed her into a street. Veronica didn’t want to go but she was too trusting and nice, like how she was in the movie and musical n trusting JD

JD goes on to flee the town and Heather C. Is discovered to be dead at the end of the school day

Now, I’m not totally sure what this is. It was an idea in my head and I needed it out. It’s not very good, It’s not the level of gore and blood I think my honestly messed-up mind needs to get out, but it can suffice Basically, I have my own mental problems, though I don’t know what they are currently, but they do give me a lot of problems. Writing is my healthy way of expressing them rather than screaming at my friends. That was my old way… not good. Anyways, hope you guys liked this story.

#heathers fanfiction #heather chandler #heathers fanfic #heather chandler fanfic #heathers #jd fanfiction #jd #jason dean #jason dean x veronica sawyer #veronica x jd

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earsofducks · 4 years ago

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Day 4 - Blogging

Hello and welcome to blogging and online dating and such an intense crush, my gosh.

@ineffablehusbandsweek - thank you for reblogging everything, and thank you for putting this together!!! Why did I not say this before?? You’re fantastic and I appreciate you.

One of Crowley’s favourite things about being a full-time blogger is that he can sleep whenever he wants to for however long he wants. For example, it’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and he’s only just rolling out of bed and no one is judging him. What a good life.

He yawns, stretches, finds some water and drinks it. He stalks past his plants with a hypocritical “don’t you dare slack off.” He fetches his laptop from the living room and takes it with him into the kitchen, where he sets it on the table and then rummages in the fridge for some eggs.

Eggs are timeless. Eggs are always appropriate to eat. Crowley loves eggs.

Once he’s beaten and scrambled them to his satisfaction, he sits down at the table and opens his laptop.

20,000 hits. Not bad, he thinks, grinning to himself.

It helps that he used to be a network-employed journalist. He was good at it, too, at asking questions, at wheedling until an interviewee caved and told him the whole truth. But it felt restricting, being assigned things, only writing what his bosses handed him, so once his name got big enough he left the network and started a blog.

And somehow, it’s providing him with enough to live on.

He scrolls through the comments section, telling himself that he’s not looking for anyone in particular and knowing full well it’s a lie. He’s just about given hope when there’s a ping, a notification, and he clicks on the little pop-up, hoping that maybe…

And it is.

Angel1941: This was absolutely lovely, my dear. I have been so enjoying the chronicles of Frances the Fern. I hope that she starts behaving for you. Have a good week!

Crowley doesn’t bother hiding the massive grin that spread over his face the second he saw the user name. Angel, as he’s been calling the commenter in his head, started commenting on his posts about four months ago, and has been taking up progressively more space in Crowley’s mind.

He gets up from the table, grinning like a loon, and sets about making coffee while reflecting on how he should respond. It’s not like he can just say what he’s thinking. (What he’s thinking is something along the lines of “when did I develop a crush on you? Why did I develop a crush on you? We’ve never met each other!” Not the sort of stuff you can just post online.) He’s got to be clever, subtle, allude to the fact that Angel brings him joy without stating it explicitly.

He can do it.

Except he can’t. After a couple of hours, he gives up and replies in some little blurb about how Frances will shape up if she knows what’s best for her, and it’s good to hear that someone’s reading. Not even close to the witty, heartfelt content he was hoping for.

Discouraged, he goes searching for his phone and then pulls up a dating app when he finds it. Nothing to get your mind off of silly internet crushes like the cathartic left-right-left of Tinder. (Crowley is just enough of a public figure that sometimes people accuse him of catfishing, which is always fun. He enjoys catering to their suspicions, sending increasingly wacky and grammatically incorrect messages, until they report him and he gets to pull the ‘surprise! It’s really me!’ card.)

Crowley starts swiping, starting to warm to his work, and then a profile slides across his screen and his heart skips a beat.

Angel1941.

There’s the angel, beaming up at him, wearing a truly bizarre tartan bowtie and a suit that looks like it belongs in the 1800s. And he’s using the same username. What an old-fashioned... But he’s smiling, he’s happy, he’s beautiful, and Crowley can feel himself melting into the couch cushions.

He can’t swipe right. Angel won’t like him, not in real life. They’ll talk for a little bit and then Angel will, wisely, decide that Crowley is too much and he’d rather not have him in his life. Crowley won’t get comments that make him Snoopy dance internally. Crowley won’t have anything to look forward to.

(Crowley might just be enough. Angel might just like him. All his dreams might just come true.)

Not probable, but the possibility will be much more concrete than if he doesn’t take the risk.

Well, shucks, he thinks, and swipes right.

It’s a match! the screen congratulates him, and Crowley’s insides flop around like fish out of water.

Well, that’s done now, he tells himself, and sets his phone down resolving not to look at it again unless he gets a notification.

He picks it up a few minutes later.

After agonizing nearly the entire afternoon over whether he should send a message, Crowley’s phone pings from across the kitchen and he dives for it, nearly toppling his glass of wine as he does so.

Angel1941: Well, hello there! Perhaps I can hear about Frances in real-time updates. :)

Crowley sags against the counter and clutches his phone to his chest, smiling hard enough to hurt his face.

Angel - Aziraphale, actually, it turns out, but habits are hard to break - is a brilliant conversationalist, and seems to somehow enjoy Crowley’s pathetic attempts at responding in kind. Crowley doesn’t know why he seems to be so tongue-tied (as it were) when he’s speaking to Aziraphale - he’s a writer, for goodness’ sake - but he’s grateful that Aziraphale doesn’t mind.

As far as he can tell, anyway.

They chat off and on for nearly two months, and Aziraphale comments on every blog post and then gives in-depth reviews to Crowley later, and Crowley is having the time of his life. He gives Aziraphale his number and they switch from Tinder to texting.

Aziraphale starts calling him ‘dear.’ (He nearly chokes to death on his coffee the first time.)

He learns that Aziraphale works at the local library, that he loves sushi and hates hot dogs, that he goes to St. James’s every weekend to feed the ducks (frozen peas and things like that, of course, because bread is bad for them. Did you know that? Crowley hadn’t, but had been glad to find out.) and take a stroll, that he wants to go to Paris for the crepes.

(All the way to Paris just for crepes, angel, really?

I’d do a good many things for crepes, dear. You ought to know that by now.)

After two months, Aziraphale sends him a message that nearly sends him into cardiac arrest.

Angel: I’ve got something I’ve been meaning to say.

Crowley physically winces and sets about trying to brace himself for something like ‘you’re fun to talk to, but I’ve had about all I can’ or ‘I’ve had enough of you and your nonsense’ or ‘this was all a cruel joke and I’ve never actually cared about you.’ (He may be, possibly, a little dramatic.)

Crowley: ask away

Crowley tosses his phone onto the couch and paces his flat restlessly. He really, really, really doesn’t want to stop talking to Aziraphale. He’s gotten more than a little attached, and he doesn’t - he can’t -

His phone buzzes and he lunges for it.

Angel: Very well.

Crowley, it has been an absolute joy texting with you, but

Crowley’s heart sinks. He hasn’t opened the message. He doesn’t really want to. He looks at his lock screen until it goes black, and then he finds that he wants to know. (Needs to know, even.)

Angel: Very well.

Crowley, it has been an absolute joy texting with you, but I must confess that I’d dearly love to see your face and speak with you in person.

Would you consider joining me for dinner sometime this week? If you’re free, of course.

I’d very much like to take you to the Ritz, if you’d be amenable.

Crowley laughs. He laughs and jumps up and down like an excited toddler and clutches his phone to his chest and holds it at arms’ length and chucks it at the couch again.

“Yes!” he cries to his empty apartment, “yes!”

After he’s celebrated enough, he picks up his phone again.

Crowley: I’d be amenable.

Angel: Oh, good! Shall we say Sunday? 9 pm?

Crowley: It’s a date.

#ineffable husbands au week #aziraphale #crowley #have I mentioned that I love them #because I do #blogger au #blogging #online dating #tinder #I have no idea how any of these things work #I don't know what I'm doing

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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11. This is Fucked Up

Who. Did. This. Null. Think. He. Was?

Xander had every intention of simply observing, recording, collecting, submitting. And waiting for Grace’s approval… But, even through the course of knowing that this particular potential X… No.. this confirmed X; Xander somehow convinced himself that perhaps Grace had actually simply found someone who could safely and comfortably accompany her baggage. He wanted to be wrong, even though he had known that he was right.

This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up.

“I can explain,” Simon said. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes were wide. The arrogance from earlier seemed long gone and with this realization, Xander was as cold and hard as steel.

“The fact that you even believe that there is some type of way that you ever could explain this makes me morbidly curious. Please, explain to me why you have an entire man cave of stalker paraphernalia on the single most important person in my entire life. Explain to me a scenario in which me finding that you have cameras set up in my sister’s home doesn’t end in your death. Make me, a feral child with a little hair dye and a cool kid’s outfit, react in a civilized way to you marking my family as prey.”

“Not prey…”

“I’ve been doing things like this for years. I know how the mind of somebody like this works. You don’t watch someone this way unless it's to seek out details to give you an advantage over them. There's no person who does this for reasons other than power and/or predation.”

“Protection,” Simon said. “I did this to try to protect her. You weren’t there with her…” Xander flinched for a moment. “She was trying to do everything on her own. She lost Heath. She los…”

“You don’t get to speak about him like you knew him.” Simon silenced himself. Xander began to pace, slowly, assessing the storage room, but keeping his distance. “He told me about when you stopped into the flower shop. You called Grace by a label that I know she never would have told you. I knew then that you were suspicious, but I never thought that you were like this!” He gestured his pinky around the room, absolutely horrified to see so much of Grace’s face in one place… in this place. This box with pictures and products and everything appeared to be either her image or something pertaining to her. “This is disturbing , Simon. Even to me, and I once stabbed off a man’s genitals with a serrated blade…” Xander watched for a reaction to that.

Simon hardly showed any, but he was definitely uncomfortable. Still, that wasn't the response of someone who was afraid… It was the response of someone who was… plotting. Simon shifted. Xander warned him, “Stay where you are. If you come near me, I will kill you, and judging by your non-reaction to what I said, I think you know that I’m more than capable of it.”

“Capable, definitely. But… I don’t think that you’re that reckless.” Xander raised an eyebrow. Nobody had ever accused him of not being reckless before. This had to be another one of Simon's lies... “Sure, you’re impulsive and you have very little self preservation, but you know as well as I do that I matter to Grace," Simon couldn't help but to smirk about that. "I don’t think that you’d take that away from her. She’s already lost so much. That’s why you’re even talking to me right now instead of stuffing me in a bag and throwing me in the van.”

Xander’s nostrils flared. Simon was smart. Arguably, the most book smart person that Xander had ever met, personally. He might be able to trip him up if he said too much. Regardless, Xander knew that he was right about this . Grace had already taken his side in the swing of things, as far as Xander believed, by even having him hold this space in her world, undeserved…

Simon casually leaned back on his table and held on to it. “Let me ask you this, Xander. Has Grace ever allowed you to hurt anybody who didn’t hurt anybody, or do you all hunt down every potential danger in the city?” Xander flinched. The O’s. If he couldn’t prove that Simon was dangerous… she would be upset with him, but she wouldn’t let Xander kill him, even if it was obvious that he was a threat! Xander’s breath hardened and Simon’s arrogance returned. “I didn’t think so. Because, she isn’t some sadist searching for victims like Dexter to fulfill a bloodlust. She’s an avenging angel. Everyone she kills has hurt people and that is why she hurts them. She doesn’t even like to do it. She just thinks that she has to…”

“Is that something that she told you, or something that you stole from her?”

“It’s something that I understand, because I know her better than anybody ever has…” Simon said, stepping forward.

“Fuck you. STAY!”

“I want to show you something. Something that I collected in secret before I decided to do this…” Simon slowly moved, with his hands where Xander could see them to retrieve something. Xander snatched photos from his hand and stepped back. “When Jalicia was grieving, because Heath died and you nosedived… Grace came over for an alibi and fell asleep.” Xander was flipping through photos of bruises on her body. He felt dirty for even having seen them, because she was sleeping and Simon obviously took these without her permission, and guilty, because that never would have happened if he hadn’t slipped up. Xander flung them and they slapped Simon in the face. He let them fall to the ground. “I was worried that one of those times, she might get hit harder than she could stand. She needed someone else, because nobody else was there for her.”

“You really think that I’m naive. I know what you’re doing. You think that you can make me feel guilty for being sick and unavailable to Grace and make me think that this is why you needed to do this… but all you’re doing is making me see why it has to be me that handles you. She won’t be able to do it, because I left her exposed to the elements and you poisoned her. She’ll be hurt at first. She’ll be angry that I took away her favorite new thing. She’ll be hurt that you wasn’t what she thought… But, she’ll be safe, and I care more about that than I do her having a tantrum over losing you.”

“You want to add to the list of names that she cries out in her sleep?” Simon asked.

Xander had flashes of Grace through the years. That was precisely what she did. At 12, when he met her, she whimpered in her sleep for kids that were even right next to her in bunks, dreaming about the things she’d seen them go through. Of course she still did this. There were so many names. So many losses. If she loved them, she’d probably lose them. All she had left was her Apex survivors. And Simon?

Xander fumed and rushed forward. How dare he try to use Grace’s pain to save himself! He didn’t care about her! He just wanted to… do SOMETHING to her that Xander wasn’t sure of, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him. He tackled Simon to the concrete and Simon bumped his head on the table as they knocked it over. It caught Simon completely off guard. He was on guard, because it was a stressful time and still caught off guard. He tried to get away, but Xander pulled him into a chokehold and wrapped his legs around him. Elbowing Xander only made him punch Simon extremely hard in the ribs and gut.

Simon began to pat him down, panicked, but still thinking. This dude was… sort of impressive, Xander noted, until Simon found what he needed. Xander’s syringe. Xander tried to get it from him with one hand and keep him choked with the other arm, but that gave Simon enough room to unseal it and stab him in the arm with it. Xander flailed for a moment, but he managed to sputter out. “You can’t do anything, Simon. You’re… still… fucked…” He was disoriented whenever Simon got up and looked at him, on the floor, trying to move away.

Of course, Xander was absolutely right. Simon couldn’t kill him! He wasn’t sure that he had the stomach to kill anybody, not even somebody who hated him as much as Xander clearly did, but this was Grace’s… there wasn’t even an accurate word for what he was to her. Brother, best friend, hell even soulmate seemed so pale in comparison to whatever it was that they had going on… Not in a romantic way, but in a... ugh symbiotic way, in which he didn’t think that Grace was any more capable of living without Xander than he was without her. Hurting Simon would have hurt her, but hurting Xander? That would kill her. She would kill him, probably.

Whatever they gave their victims to knock them out was doing it’s job with Xander. Simon checked him for his phone. It wasn’t on him, so probably in his vehicle, if he even brought it along at all. Simon grabbed his gun. The last thing he needed was Xander to wake up and find it somehow. He looked around. He’d have to figure something out. Did he want to try to throw Xander in his trunk? Tie him up here? He searched for something to tie him up… he didn’t have anything. At least nobody could ever accuse him of being prepared to abduct. He improvised, with Xander’s overshirt. That wouldn’t hold him for long, but it might help a little. He grabbed a few things that he valued and put them in his trunk. He didn’t believe he had the time or the room in his car to grab the surveillance equipment, but he at least unplugged it all.

He shut the storage and left to go meet up with Grace. He was crying, but at least Xander couldn’t warn her that he was coming. But, he had to determine what he was going to do about him.

He holstered his gun and pulled his hoodie over himself. He just… was on edge, felt unsafe, didn’t know WHAT to think or do… He paced for a little bit outside of her apartments before daring to go knock on the door.

She flung it open, looked relieved, and hugged him tightly, “Simon! You’re okay…” He wrapped his arms around her, positive that this was probably his last time to do so. Once she found out about Xander, his world might come crashing down.

Then he saw her. That girl with the bomb on her neck and it finally hit him where he recognized her from. He’d seen her on Xander’s social media months ago whenever he was trying to find out more about Grace. She was in on this… Was Grace? D id Grace know Xander had found him out? Did she send him? She cupped his face and kissed him quickly on the lips. “You’re safe.” He shivered and she wiped his tears, “It’s okay. Come on…” She led him in and the tattooed lady folded her arms and stared at him. “I think you’ve met my friend, Alexandria.” Grace covered her face with her hands, then took Simon’s into hers. “You’ve been super patient with me through a lot of questionable shit, but I know, with what happened earlier, that you’re probably so tired of me and my mess…”

“That’s not..” he shook his head. “It.”

“Where is Xander?” Alexandria asked.

Grace was so consumed by the thought of her friends breaking into Simon’s home and potentially hurting him that she got distracted. But, Simon turned pale whenever asked that, so she immediately tensed up and stared at him. “He’ll be here shortly… He was following him, right?”

Alexandria showed Grace her phone. The picture mail from Xander was of Simon opening a storage unit and being inside of it and the caption, “747: Gonna engage the X” Now, Grace and her both looked at Simon. “Redness on his neck, little blood on the side of his face. Xander engaged with the X.” She jumped up and rushed at him, “What did you do?”

Grace quickly slid between them and held her at bay. “I’ll handle this, please have a seat.” She turned around and studied Simon’s visible signs of a struggle and smiled softly at him, “Hey. Xander can be scary. He’s not very big, but he makes up for it in other ways. He’s tough, and he’s always been a fighter. If a fight occurred, I would imagine that somebody who isn’t very used to hand to hand combat might panic and try to defend themselves however they could, so… What did you do?” Her voice was calm, but her heart was racing and beating in her ears as her face was red and tears burned to escape the stronghold of her ducts. She was on fire, worried about why Simon might be so pale at the mention of Xander. Was Xander somewhere with head trauma, bleeding out while Simon found the courage to put it into words?? She didn’t want to alarm him and make it harder to find her friend, but she also was the most unsettled that she had been in a long time.

Simon nodded, “I defended myself. He.. He had a syringe, but I was able to get to it and I stuck him with it.” Both women sighed with relief. Simon started crying.

“Hey… Mon Beau Petit,” it sounded so pretty in her voice, and she was smiling, relieved that her symbiotic other was still alive as she touched Simon’s chin. “Can you take us to him?” He wasn’t bleeding out, but the tranquilizers in his system probably would make him sick, especially having recently detoxed.

“I locked him in my storage closet.”

“Okay, then we won’t have to search for him. But, let's just get to him so that I can make sure he’s okay, and I’ll keep them away from you and then… you’ll never have to worry about us again. I’ll leave you out of this mess. I just have to get Xander returned safely to me, okay?”

Simon sniffled, “You don’t understand. The reason he was trying to attack me…”

“Let’s… get to him first, okay? Please?” He nodded.

In the car, he tried to explain to Grace what happened. “Do you remember whenever I told you that I follow people?” Alexandria tilted her head, surprised by hearing this interesting tidbit. Grace blushed. She didn’t want to speak about that in front of someone else, but Simon kept going. “I thought maybe you realized. There were definitely moments where I said to myself, she knows. She has to. You must have sensed it, at least… Xander did. He sensed what was happening and he got suspicious and he came after me because I was watching you…”

Grace sputtered some air through her lips and cracked her fingers, “This isn’t really the time.”

“It has to be, because whenever we reach Xander, he’s gonna have the floor. I have to tell you now!” He sounded very urgent and Alexandria was already reaching for her butterfly knife.

“Stand down,” Grace said, not even looking at her. Then to Simon, “Listen… I know that you and Xander were fighting for a reason and I love Xander very much, but I don’t always side with him. I just think we need to get to him, then we can…”

“I did it to you!” There was a lengthy silence in the car. Whenever he finally stopped, in the lot of a storage company, he added on, “Xander found proof that I did it to you and he knew that wasn’t enough, so he was going to kill me and I… I didn’t want to die… I don’t want to die.”

“You aren’t going to die, Simon,” she said, but she felt like she had been gutted. Of course she knew… There was always a little sign that he knew too much. But, he was harmless. If Xander wanted to kill him, she just… there had to be more to it than this…

They could hear him before they reached the unit. He was throwing things and yelling. “Let him out!” Grace said. Simon unlocked the pad and opened the storage.

Xander was ready to lunge, but he saw them first. “Grace!” He hugged her tightly and then whimpered, “Xandria.” Simon stepped into the storage container. Xander had made quite a mark. So many things were tossed around… months of research and fixation…

“Simon… what is that?” Grace wondered, pointing the monitors. Her home, the inside of her car, her locker at work??? “Simon…?” Xander had plugged them back in and didn’t damage them… of all the things that he had taken his frustrations out on.

“I… just… needed…” She backed away. He stopped. Damage had been done.

Her lip was quivering and she was still holding on to Xander, who was sobbing, mid panic attack, yet still zoned out from the tranquilizers. She didn’t want to let go of him. He was clean, and now he had chemicals in his system, along with being locked up for however long he was conscious, the fear that maybe Simon had gone to find Grace and hurt her and surrounded by… what Grace could only think of as a room of horrors. Her photos, artwork, partial figures… he even had what appeared to be a mannequin or a life sized doll… and she didn’t want to let Simon out of her sight or be in his presence, simultaneously.

“X confirmed,” Xander whimpered, over and over. “X confirmed. X confirmed…”

“Shhh shhh shhh…” She strummed his hair and guided him over to Alexandria. “Take him home. Don’t… say anything to the others, yet. I’ll take care of this.” She gestured at Simon.

“By yourself?” Alexandria wondered, looking at Simon. He didn’t look like much, but he was a little bit larger than Grace and he had somehow gotten the drop on Xan, of all people. Xander wasn’t able to fight right now and did need to be brought to safety, but she didn’t know about leaving Grace alone, especially getting a look into this storage room.

“Yeah. Simon, toss me your car keys.” He bit his lip, and obeyed. “I’m gonna take his car and I’ll um… I’ll be okay.”

“No, Grace! He’s an X.”

“Who has he hurt, Xander? What child did he attack? What person has he abused or killed or did anything to?”

“This… This is fucked up, Grace, look at this!” Xander said, shaking Alexandria off of him. “You’re gonna give him an O? You’ll make him an O instead??? You trusted him, the first person you trusted and he violated that trust.” He began whispering to her, but everyone could still hear him, “You know how much damage I’ve been able to do with my reconnaissance… He’s doing what I do to perps, but to YOU. And his budget and his system is massive. You can’t let this stalker walk.”

And after that, he knew that he knew how to do Xander’s job, and do it better.

In the moment, he was more concerned by what Grace thought. Would she kill him for this? Surely not. That wasn’t the woman that he had come to know. Under all of the things that she made herself into, there was this precious woman who was soft and caring...

“He told me who he was, Xan. This is… This doesn’t feel good, but you can’t X him over it…” Simon smiled at the fact that she wasn’t willing to kill him. He didn’t like that she didn’t feel good, but presently, it pleased him more that she hadn’t dismissed him outright. So, he reflexively let out a pleased little chuckle and Xander broke free from her, determined he would take Simon out right then and there.

He wasn’t cohesive enough, but he still had pretty good form to punch (albeit not as hard as usual), and he managed to get him to the ground where… a gun fell off of him… Grace kicked it aside and Xander laughed, vindicated as his best friend actually crumbled before them. “You have a GUN?” Grace asked. “I’ve never seen you with a gun before, Simon…” her eyes were wide, shocked, frightened.

“I have a license…” He began to pick himself up from the ground.

“But… Why… did you bring your gun to see me ?” she asked in a small voice, already crying, holding her arms out for the sky to drop an answer into them. Her face showed him she’d deduced an answer on her own.

He shook his head, “No. No. I wasn’t gonna… I would never hurt you, Grace! All I’ve wanted to do since I’ve met you is know you and love you! Why do you think I’ve never turned you in? You think that I wouldn’t do my research? I know what you’ve been doing. I don’t know where they vanish to, but I’m guessing it’s someplace for the dead.” He laughed nervously, but came too close, so that she flinched when he neared her and he froze… He shook his head. Why would she flinch? Why didn’t she understand that he wouldn’t hurt her? “Have I ever done anything but support and comfort you? Grace… My Doll…”

“Don’t.” She was crying, now and her eyes couldn’t manage to stay still as they retraced every thought of every interaction that they ever had. She shook her head, “Oh my God… I was never even a person to you, was I?”

“A person? Grace… People are disgusting... animals! They’re scum that prey on others and harm them. You’re someone who cleanses the world of such filth… So, no… You’re no person. You were always more than that and I just needed to BE with you!” He took a swallow and said, “I didn’t want it to come to this. I tried to be close to you organically and you pushed me away every time it felt too good, because you just couldn’t believe that anybody could adore the real you. You MADE me do this!”

“808, stay on the O,” Grace said. Her voice was cold, but he saw in her face that it hurt her to walk away from him. Alexandria picked up his gun and whipped out her knife.

“Grace, don’t leave. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just upset. Please don’t…” He tried to follow her.

“I can injure an O,” Alexandria said, pointing the gun at him as Grace and Xander got into Simon’s car. Simon pulled out his phone, but she slapped it from his hand. “Are you trying to make me kill you? Because, I really don’t like to do that. Not like this, anyway. An explosion or a fire, yeah. I hate getting blood on me. It’s hard to clean off and the smell makes me gag. But, behind them, you’d better believe that I will.”

He smirked and raised his hands, “I understand. She has that effect on people.”

“Come here…” She grabbed him and shoved him towards Xander’s car, popped the trunk and said, “Get in.”

“Are you going to kill me?” He seemed numb as he asked it.

“Grace said not to, so no. But, I’ve gotta make sure that you don’t get anywhere near her. So, hop in or I take out your limbs and throw you in.” She almost felt bad for him. Grace had just walked away from him and she obviously mattered a lot to the dude. But, he also was an enemy.

“That sounds unpleasant,” he said and climbed in. “What do you usually do to O’s?”

“Usually they don’t know we exist. We wait for them to fuck up to get the proof to bump them up to an X.”

“Grace doesn’t like to kill harmless people,” he said.

“We saw children die before they ever had the chance to even know who they were. You don’t kill innocents, then you’re no better than the nulls that we kill.”

“No matter what I did to get close to her, she was never going to let me into her world, was she?”

Alexandria sighed and stuck his gun into one of her pockets and zipped it up. She kept the knife brandished though. “Why would you want to be? Xan looked you up. You had academic trophies and shit. You were writing books as a child. You’re famous to people who give a fuck about books. Your mom loves you. You’ve got a sister or something. You get to speak on panels at conventions or go to them and play dress up, and that’s something you appear to love, and with people you have things in common with. Why was it so important to you to be…” she gestured at the storage with her blade, “This close to somebody like Grace?” ‘ I wish I never met these people,’ She didn’t add.

He crossed his hands over his belly and wrapped his fingers in each other. “Have you ever watched something die?”

She scoffed, “You know what we’re about. I’ve seen plenty of “somethings” die.”

“Then, you know how it is at the end of their lives. They fight. They move. They do anything to stay alive one moment longer. Even if it hurts. Even if it only kills them faster. Survival mode has been initiated and they will not stop until they recover from even the sense of death, or until they die…” He shut his eyes and began thinking about the pain in Grace’s when he first met her. “Seeing Grace live was a lot like watching something die. Always in survival mode, even if it hurt, even if it could kill her faster. With most situations, when you’re watching something die… you want to do something about that. You don’t just want to watch it die. Sometimes, you just can’t help. But, sometimes… they let you get close enough to take them in and patch them up and see them through.” He let out a sad chuckle. “She left survival mode when she was with me. She knew that I was there to help and to heal her.”

Alexandria had tears in her eyes and she turned her face towards the moon. “That’s not really love, though. I mean, it’s nice or whatever, in certain cases, but if the only reason that you wanted to be with her was so that you could save her, that’s some self important bullshit and only serves your ego.”

“Only?” He sat up, but she didn’t get alarmed. He adjusted, and sat next to her. “Yes, it felt really good to know that I had been given access to her, but you saw how she was with me… have you ever seen her that way with anyone? Xander thinks he helped her but he’s the person who sees you helping and comes along and says, “Leave them alone. They don’t need help”… Then you both just watch them die…”

“Man… What. Even are these metaphors of?”

“That one was about the bird that Paul Levchefsky said was fine and told me that if I touched it, its mom wouldn’t want it anymore. It died. Paul just continued playing at recess, and there was a dead bird near my action figures that had just died because I didn’t do anything to save it…”

“In Paul’s defense, if you were young enough for recess, you totally couldn’t save that damn bird on your own. They have like… bird doctor specialists or something.”

“I watched a lot of shows and documentaries on animal habitats and wildlife rescue whenever I was a kid and I was very smart. I could have at least tried, if he hadn’t interfered.” She shrugged her shoulders. Simon kept talking, “I was fixated on those shows for years. I remember seeing certain scenes where the cameras would be filming something being mauled to death, crying out while being ripped to shreds…”

“In a wildlife rescue show?” She asked, laughing.

“What? No… two different… Animal habitat shows AND wildlife rescue shows…”

“Shit, I was gonna say…”

“We are so off topic…” he did notice that she wasn’t holding her knife as tightly.

“Doesn’t matter. We have nowhere to be at the moment. We can chill and talk about Grace… and animals being ripped to shreds, apparently.”

Back to his point, “The cameras recorded for us. We were able to see these things. My mom would be like, ‘Why would you want to see something like this?’ and the truth was I didn’t. I hated seeing animals die. I hated seeing it, but it was nature. It was for their survival. I’d just ask her, ‘Why would anybody want to record it?’ They recorded it because they wanted those of us who weren’t in the wild to know how it was. It was allegedly educational. They’d have a British guy explaining what you already were seeing with your own eyes, just in case you couldn’t comprehend why everything was so brutal and why you couldn’t turn away. People are similar. I’ve been watching people for a long time. They’re interesting to a certain degree. But, despite what reality television series would have us believe, if you looked at people’s lives, there’s not much to be interested in over an extended period of time. The only people that we want to see is one with a story that gives us that feeling that we get when we watch animals in the wild.”

“Are you comparing Grace to a wild animal?”

“I’m comparing mankind to wild animals. Grace is... something else. There’s never been something in the wild like her before. She’s seen what animals do to each other and she’s stepped in on their behalf. She’s like a saint…” Alexandria stared at him, looking at this zealous passion in his eyes as he marvelled over Grace and how wonderful she was. He didn’t know her like she knew her. Grace was definitely the Queen Bee, but Saint was absolutely stretching the truth.

He laughed again, “St. Catherine… You know… I think I know which St. Catherine she chose her last name for.” Alexandria looked uncomfortable. “St. Catherine of Alexandria!” He cheered. She didn’t seem phased by this discovery of his. “The patron saint of… philosophers and scholars? Grace loves reading, has a Messiah complex and a friend named Alexandria…”

“She wasn’t thinking of me whenever she named herself that. It’s just a coincidence. Definitely probably the… scholar thing, or whatever you said. She does think she’s so smart. But, if she’s so smart, how did she let you get this close?”

He smirked, “Almost seems like she wanted me there, huh?” He shrugged his shoulders and laid in the trunk again. Alexandria had all but put her knife away. She was thinking about that one statement. Out of everything else this man said, (and he could talk a lot), that was the one that wouldn’t leave her mind, even as he spouted out all of the facts that he remembered from when he read up on St. Catherine of Alexandria (to predict why Grace chose that last name. Hell, she could have just chosen from a list or something!)

But… for her to not notice that Simon was watching her so closely… IF she didn’t want him there, that meant that she maybe was in those last moments, before death. She was weakened or dimmed, somehow. She… was potentially a threat to herself and the operation and most likely a liability… Xan would NEVER hear that. Not about his Grace, and look at the mess she’d gotten him into tonight! He’s got tranqs in his system. As a recovering addict, was having a full blown meltdown and really believed that this guy needed to go to the Field of Nulls. The problem was that usually, neither of them were wrong. Xander made mistakes, but was rarely wrong. Grace didn’t usually make mistakes, but had obviously made one this time, unless the throwaway comment was accurate and she wanted this from Simon… Alexandria was vexed, and Simon was STILL talking

Simon’s car was in the driveway whenever Alexandria let him out of Xander’s trunk at home. “She’s gone.” He sighed. “I’m going to find her, you know. I’m never going to let her go.”

“That’s not my problem,” Alexandria knew that when it came to that, Xander would definitely make it hers. In order to make it hers in less time, she wouldn’t mention that little comment to him.

“It was nice to meet you.”

“As a hostage?”

“I didn’t consider myself a hostage. We were in fellowship. Discussing Grace.”

“I don’t worship her.”

“Then why do you do everything that you do for her?” She furrowed her eyebrows and he nodded, “You do it for him. He’s got a girlfriend though. At least, they seem… cozy…” He saw her eyebrow twitching. “Of course, you know that. You’re all a close knit group of friends. That’s precisely why Grace was all alone whenever he was incapacitated...”

“Until next time, marked O. Be careful.”

“Same to you, 808…” She clenched her fists and took off walking down the hill of his driveway.

It had never been used, so she broke it in with housewarming, even though she didn’t want to be there long. Her friends all came. Xander complained the entire time that with that O out there, they were foolish to come to her safehouse in Canada. But, she was both confident that she had no sign of this place anywhere that Simon would have had access to, and she was lonely.

Xander didn’t want Alexandria to come. He told Grace that he feared that she had been compromised while keeping Simon away from her while she got away. To not start an argument, she simply let it go. She and Alexandria were once very close, but they hadn’t been lately. They’d always all be Apex, but 808 had left them for a time, too… Grace wasn’t worried. Xander was taking care of things. “Training someone to do Heath and Jalicia’s work isn’t easy. Heath’s not here to show his system and…” he looked over at Jalicia, who may have been asleep or not, with a cowboy hat resting on her face. “I don’t like to bother her. It’s still all too much, I think.”

“I have a responsibility to help everyone that I said I would help. So… I’ll see what I can do. I still have plenty of shady contacts from back in the day...”

“We can’t trust them. We can only trust us.”

“Well, according to you, we can’t even do that. Alexandria was “compromised?”

“Well… She’s been behaving oddly. Like she has ideas that she didn’t have before. I know he tried to get into her mind, like he tried to get into mine… like he…” He began to fasten and unfasten the velcro on his shoes.

“Like he got into mine?”

“She did have one point… There’s no way that you’re both on your A game and didn’t realize what you were dealing with. I think he played every angle that he learned from watching you to make you vulnerable… So, maybe it’s good that you took this vacation. You can even work from here…”

She blinked away tears. “I’m all alone here. I hate being alone. Alone is when the monsters get to you.”

“Hey. What did we say whenever I had to be in rehab? It’s not forever, just ‘til it’s better.”

“There was a building full of people there. I’m off the grid and far from home.”

“Let me deal with him, and then you could come back.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I can come back any time I please.”

“Of course you can.” He felt embarrassed. “I only meant… I don’t think it’s safe.”

“What’s he been doing?”

“I’m making sure he’s not able to reach out to you… Unless that’s not why you’re asking?”

She felt hot, “He was a soft spot, Xan. Somewhere that I could rest my head and just breathe for a little bit. That was taken away from me, and I’m sorry that I haven’t bounced back in a matter of days.”

“I watched you bounce back in a few minutes after your first beheading.”

“That was before I realized that monsters are people like us… I thought a steward was some type of dragon. They’re all people. Horrible people… but people. Simon wasn’t a horrible person. He did something that I never thought anybody could do… he made me feel like I loved him, and it was different than how I love you. It was different than how I love Mom and Dad. It was… I felt like he was in my system… in my bloodstream.”

“That was fucking oxytocin.” She bursted into tears and he chuckled too, even though he was serious.

She leaned on him and gave him a hug. “No. This is oxytocin. That was something else.”

“Whatever it was… you don’t need it.”

“No. Whatever it was, I didn’t know I needed it… and now, I do.” She grabbed her phone and went online. “I want so badly to check his pages. Then, I wonder, does that make me a hypocrite? I got so mad…”

“That he placed cameras in your personal spaces without your permission. He could have cyber stalked you all day and night for all I care. But, I wasn’t going to allow him to do that .” He could tell from her face that she was about to justify things and take up for him. She had been back and forth with this for the past few days. Reminding them that he didn’t actually hurt anyone, confessing that she told him that stalking wasn't even that bad (one time), and regretting walking away from him and fleeing town...“Remember that he showed up with a gun.” She nodded. That was always the reality check. He did show up with a gun. Why? If not to harm or threaten her? And just seeing a gun (sometimes just in media) gave her a visceral alarm. The red flags were drenched in blood and she didn’t want it to be her blood. She had too much work left to do, after this little staycation. She had to let Simon go the way that she had to let everyone else that she loved and lost go.

The storage room went up in flames the day that Grace found out about it. Simon tried to salvage what he could and had the storage insurance, but the things that couldn’t be - certain recordings and photos that he no longer had access to, with Grace blocking him and blotting him out! He was trying to be sensible about things. It was a volatile situation. He knew that, but he just couldn’t believe that she was going to stay angry about this. The things that she had been through in her life, and this was where she chose to draw a line? Of course, he was grateful that she hadn’t allowed him to be killed. He truly feared for his life whenever he saw Xander Helstrom.

That was why whenever he was trailing Grace’s friends, if Xander ever appeared, Simon quickly caught ghost. He knew that he had at least warmed Alexandria up a little bit whenever they talked. She didn’t have friends outside of this group (like most of them), but the difference was… she wasn’t really friends with them, either. She felt more like a trauma bonded obligatory participant than like one of Grace’s other inner circle acolytes. The ones that he needed to work on were those other two ladies.

He rented an apartment to rebuild his… research facility, and fortunately for him, he knew where an apartment had just been vacated, and he also had the money to get it immediately, telling the renter that he needed it too urgently to wait until they cleaned it out, so he would just do so and was willing to sign a waiver stating such… Grace left a lot behind. Nothing about the organization, of course, but just other things. Whenever you were related to people like the Monroes, you didn’t really need to hold on to things. She took what mattered to her. She hadn’t left behind anything that might be sentimental, but her furniture, many of her clothes, and stuff like bedding, towels, etc were still there… Simon searched through everything and… nothing that he had ever given her was there. “She took me with her…” Or she threw you in the trash…

He set up anew in the space and didn’t get rid of any of her old things, either, though he moved much of it around to clear a room for all of the things he needed.

Simon read several “tips” on hacking, talked to Tulip and some of his computer nerd associates. Hypothetical questions… you would expect them to only be able to go so far, but for the most part, a few laughed about his “nefarious plans” with the information and kept talking but several didn’t seem bothered at all. They’d ask, “What project are you working on?” and depending on how well he knew them, he might say, “I’ve been trying to look up an old friend who I heard moved away, but I’ve lost her info, or research for a story.” Either way, the only person who seemed bothered was Tulip, and he’d tried to be as vague as possible with her.

“I told you not to come to me with anything else crazy.”

“How is this crazy? I’m just trying to figure out what systems this guy used and in what way!”

“Well, this guy, whoever he is, was doing some pretty sad work and honestly, if someone were to try to track him down, they’d find exactly what they were looking for… A lot of spying on a lot of people, people… who it looks like have VANISHED, Simon.”

"WAIT. So, this hacker wasn't even good at what he was doing?"

"He wasn't wonderful… I mean the cops probably wouldn't catch him but hopefully the FBI or CIA or something would. I say those because there are dozens of missing people in this man's computer. Simon… I told you not to…"

"Tulip, listen to me. This is very important, okay? It's life or death."

"Dear God…"

"I need you to give me that information and tell me how I would be able to defend against somebody doing what you're doing right now."

"Simon. Is this for that woman? Grace? Your mom told my mom that you're "seeing someone" named Grace. I thought it was odd, because of the information we discussed before and…"

"This is a dead person's computer. What he has on it is why he's dead."

"You promised, Simon. This is really unfair…"

"Life or death, Tulip. Could be mine, could be somebody else's…"

She looked at the first figure that Simon ever made her, of one of her first video game characters and whispered, "This is the last time that you get to do something like this. I feel manipulated and I don't appreciate that this is potentially dangerous to you or anyone else!"

"I'm sorry, Tools… I had nobody else. You're my only friend and I just happened to be lucky enough to have you be the best at this kinda stuff." She was there, because he heard her sigh repeatedly as she thought about it. “I’m really in love with her. She found out about me looking into her and she felt betrayed.”

“She’s justified in that.”

“And now, she’s out there alone, and people like those on that list, the ones who vanished… I know that you’re in the process of researching them… They’re bad people. They would hurt her. I just want to protect her.”

“I would ask if you’ve been disappearing these guys, since I obviously don’t know you at all… but the timeline isn’t right. They’ve been disappearing since before you ever looked into her,” she groaned, “Why on Earth could you not have mediocre white man first world problems? I don’t want to cross the mafia because you want to… whatever it is that you’re doing with these people… I… What is happening to them? Do you at least know that?”

“Thankfully, I don’t. I wouldn’t want to have to give you any more madness. But, from what I understand, Grace is helping to take down a child trafficking ring.”

“Taking them down, alright.”

“Is that so wrong?”

“We all say stuff like, “I’d like to get rid of them all!” but… None of us actually do it, most of us don’t actually want to do it, and all of us should not do it. We just don’t know enough. What if they’ve done nothing wrong?”

“They all have.”

“But how do you know, Simon? Did you see them? Were you there when they did it? Was it real, or was it an interpretation of scared children? There’s just so many variables, and with the types of proof that your dead source came up with… why not just turn these people in? Why do they have to vanish in order to handle them?”

“Look up Washington’s laws on these things and see for yourself.”

She sighed again but it was a different type. “10 years does not seem like a lot of time for trafficking.”

“And it would have to be proven, beyond a reasonable doubt. I just had to convince my closest friend that I’m not working for the Seattle mafia, if that is even a goddamn thing.” She chuckled. “I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate you, and especially this mess from this year. I never should have involved you. But… your tuition is paid up!”

“Therapy is next, Buddy.”

“Send me the bill. It’s done. I PROMISE promise.”

And after that, he knew how to do Heath’s job, and do it better.

Whenever he first went to Heath Farmer’s home, it was indecent. He knew two things at the time. One - that he was killed on the night that Grace first asked him to lie for her and her friends and two - that he seemed to be where Grace picked up the paperwork. So, whenever Jalicia was having a moving out garage sale, Simon stopped by to give Grace a cupcake, look around, and phish his computer on the sly. He found out soon that Jalicia had been Heath’s long time girlfriend, and also that he eventually planned to marry her. Heath’s computer was like a shrine to her. Her photos were backgrounds and there were folders of them and she was in his calendar a lot and… They LIVED together. Why did he need this calendar? What was important was that Heath left a lot for Simon to work with.

This woman was young. She wasn’t even old enough to drink yet, but apparently was really great at games and puzzles…

There were photos of her gaming (Simon knew to try to find out what games and what her handles were online), photos of her putting puzzles together, finished products, several of those puzzle books in their home, and Simon wondered if she ever put this little gift into play for Grace. How might she have contributed? What did she do for work, he wondered… Not that it mattered for this project, as Heath Farmer’s work didn’t have much to do with his job for Grace and these people, but he was curious, all the same.

Alexandria Jones was not a threat. He knew how to do Xander’s job. He knew how to do Heath’s job. He pinned up two photos of his next studies. Jalicia Barrett (227) and Sunetra Kincade (1000). He placed a sticky note on the corner of hers: Xander’s GF? Destroy that.

12. On Your Side

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

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popularity, or pink flowers

well the good news is i have absolutely no excuse for this. a month ago my dear friend spidey anon send this ask about wicked!5sos and then tonight it was revived when @calumsclifford starting discussing it and now it’s 4am and muke!gelphie exists. SO.

not to pretend this is a Real Fic because it’s literally just the Popular scene but with muke as gelphie, but anyway you can read this as pre-slash or as just homies, i don’t really care. also if anyone cares, kara lindsay is my favorite glinda and this is the video i watched to get the dialogue and gist of this scene down. even if you know absolutely nothing about wicked i recommend you watch it because kara lindsay is fucking hilarious.

anyway, obvious shoutout to maggie, who’s tagged above, for being the bearer of all the great musical!sos aus. this is my humble offering to you. also to spidey anon.

(side note i changed the ending a little bit because you know me. a sucker for a hopeful ending. fuck angst 2k20 baby)

[ao3]

Luke is buzzing when they get back to their dormitory, just a few minutes shy of midnight, and Michael sits at the edge of his bed and pretends not to notice the way Luke is literally bouncing on his own mattress.

Finally Luke snaps. “Your very first party ever!” he cheers, as if that’s something to be celebrating, that Michael is college-age and still has never been to a party.

“Do funerals count?” he asks, because if so he’s been to quite a few.

Luke frowns for a moment and then carries on, undeterred. “Your very first party,” he says, emphasis clear, and grins. “Yay!”

Michael doesn’t think the party was as much of a smash hit as Luke seems to believe it was, but Luke’s already leaping off his bed and scurrying over towards Michael’s. It’s possible Luke has had too much to drink; Michael wishes he’d known there would be alcohol. He would have taken advantage.

That, or Luke is just naturally this bubbly, which is an even more exhausting thought.

“I know!” says Luke, clambering onto Michael’s bed, pushing right up against his side. Michael shies away, hugging tighter to the pillow across his lap, but Luke doesn’t get the message and reaches to straighten out Michael’s fringe. “Let’s tell each other secrets. Something you’ve never told anyone before.” Grinning conspiratorially at Michael, he says, “I’ll go first.” Then, in a low whisper: “Ashton and I are going to be married!”

Michael blinks. Luke and Ashton are well-suited, he reckons; both a little bit flippant, a little bit ditzy, and very popular. “He’s asked you already?”

“Oh, he doesn’t know yet,” Luke says cheerfully. “Now you tell me a secret.”

Michael can’t think of a single secret he wants to share with any version of Luke, but especially not this version of Luke, who’s so ridiculously upbeat it makes Michael want to crawl under his bed and hermit until he becomes one with the dust bunnies.

“Like what?” he asks.

“Like,” Luke says, and then before Michael can react he’s off the bed and reaching under Michael’s other pillow, “why do you sleep with this green bottle under your bed?”

Michael jumps to his feet, cheeks hot. “Give it back!”

“Come on, what is it?” Luke screeches, holding it high up, almost out of reach. Michael grabs hold of it and they play tug of war for a moment, Luke demanding to know what it is and Michael growling for him to return it, before Michael finally wins the battle and the bottle is safely in his hands.

“It was my mum’s!” he snaps. “That’s all. Fuck.”

Luke looks deeply upset. “That’s not fair,” he accuses. “I told you a really good one.”

Michael thinks he’s going to do something violent in a few moments unless Luke does something really redeemable. And then Luke turns back to his own bed and flops face-first into his pillow, unmoving. Like he’s really, truly hurt by this betrayal of Michael’s, daring not to match Luke’s oh-so-secret secret with one of his own.

It occurs to Michael that Luke is trying to bond with him. Or at least be friendly. And to be perfectly honest, that’s not something Michael’s come by too easily at Shiz. Friends, friendly people, anyone willing to make polite conversation...they’ve all been effectively nonexistent for Michael. For Luke, who had been such an asshole to him in the beginning (though Michael had returned the favor), to try and build a bridge despite their past failings, is actually pretty admirable. And Michael’s being cagey.

He caves.

“My dad hates me,” he admits. Luke immediately springs up. “That’s not the secret.” Once again Luke flops into his pillows, disappointed. Michael sighs. “The secret is that he has a good reason to. It’s my fault.”

This time Luke stands up and turns to look at him, and Michael recognizes the faintest trace of concern in his features. Sympathy. Not something Michael expected to see on Luke.

“What?” Luke asks, brows drawn together. “What is?”

This time, when he approaches Michael’s bed, it’s tentative, and maybe that’s what makes Michael shift over so that Luke can sit himself down. Still hugging the pillow close, Michael says, “That my sister is — the way she is.” Crippled, he doesn’t say, because she hates it when people call her that, even if it’s true. Nessarose is crippled for life.

Luke watches him, careful, and doesn’t say anything, so Michael clears his throat and starts from the beginning. “See, when our mum was carrying Nessa, our father started worrying that the new baby might come out, you know.”

“Green,” Luke supplements, although there’s nothing mocking in his voice, surprisingly.

“Green,” Michael agrees, looking down at his hands for a moment. When he looks back, Luke’s eyes are still on him. “He was so worried that he made mum chew milk flowers all the time. Only…it made Nessa come too soon, and her legs were all tangled. And mum never woke up.” He swallows, shakes his head. “None of which would’ve happened if not for me.”

Luke is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “But that was the milk flowers’ fault. Not yours.” He grabs at Michael’s hands and Michael is too startled to pull away. “That may be your secret, Michael, but that doesn’t make it true. You’re blaming yourself for something you didn’t even do. For someone you just are.” And then, just as Michael is thinking that maybe Luke is cleverer than he lets on, Luke cuddles into his side, stroking his hair and whispering, “Shh.”

“Uh, Luke,” Michael whispers back, because this is pretty weird.

Luke ignores him. Then he catches sight of the clock on the wall and leaps away from Michael to his feet, clapping in excitement. “Hey, look, it’s tomorrow!” Turning to Michael, he adds, “Mikey — is it alright if I call you Mikey?”

Michael grimaces. “Well, it’s a little childish.”

Luke ignores him again, happy grin fixed into place. Whatever Luke was sincerely reassuring Michael that Nessa’s deformity hadn’t been his fault is gone, and this bubblegum version of him is in his place. Michael’s not sure which one is the real Luke, or if there is a real Luke. Maybe Luke is just a bunch of personalities that slot in and out of place like gobo lenses on stage lights.

“And you can call me…” Luke spreads his arms. “Luke!” Like Michael wasn’t already doing that. “See, Mikey, now that we’re friends, I’ve decided to make you my new project.”

Michael stares. “You really, really don’t have to do that.” Please don’t do that, is what he means to say. Michael can only imagine what that means, and it’s not pretty.

But Luke, once again, is steadfast. “I know! That’s what makes me so nice.”

Michael doesn’t know if nice is the word. “I don’t need to be a project,” he tries, but Luke is already talking over him.

“You see, Mikey, I’m a very fortunate person,” he chirps. “And so when I see someone less fortunate than I am — which, let’s face it, is most people — my heart aches for them. And when someone needs a makeover — well, I’m amazing at makeovers.” He tosses a grin at Michael. “Clearly. And I know —” Michael opens his mouth to protest and Luke puts a finger over it, “I know exactly what they need. Oh!” He stalls Michael on his return from putting the green bottle back underneath his pillow and reaches for his glasses. Michael winces as Luke pulls them away from his face, examines him for a moment, and then puts them back. Awesome. Michael’s always thought he looked dorky with glasses, but somehow Luke thinks he looks worse without them, which is just great.

“Luke —” he tries again, and is once more cut off.

“No, no, no! Mikey, listen. This is going to be tough. I’m not going to lie. You’re a real fixer-upper, but don’t worry. I have a perfect track record with makeovers. When I’m done with you, I swear, you will be popular.”

Michael frowns at Luke’s winning smile. “Popular?”

“Popular!” Luke agrees brightly. “I’m an expert on being popular, Mikey. I can teach you everything you need to know.” He gasps excitedly. “I can teach you to talk to boys!”

“I’m not really planning on —”

“And we can fix your hair!” Luke continues, growing more excited by the minute. At Michael’s face, he hurriedly says, “Not that there’s anything wrong with it! Except that it’s um, bad.”

“Oh,” Michael says faintly. “Well, if that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not!” Luke says. Michael is tempted to try sarcasm again but it obviously sails right over Luke’s head, so he keeps his mouth shut as Luke fluffs a hand through Michael’s hair. Evidently he’s trying and failing to get it to do something — maybe stick up in a quiff like Luke’s does, which Michael could have told him would be a lost cause — and eventually he rocks back on his heels and huffs. “Well. We can work on that later. You look offended.”

“Well —”

“Lighten up,” Luke insists. “Think of it as…personality dialysis!” Which is a big word that stuns Michael into silence. He hadn’t really known Luke knew any big words, much less how to use them correctly. “Don’t be worried, Mikey. I told you, I’m a pro. And now that we’re friends and I can give you advice you have nothing to worry about.”

Michael is worried, although not for the reasons Luke thinks. He can’t picture a scenario where he walks out of this engagement unscathed.

“Luke, this is nice and all, but I don’t really feel like I need…to be popular.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Luke says. “Nobody needs to be popular. Well. Except me. But I am popular, so it works out pretty well!” He giggles. Michael wonders if the alcohol has worn off yet. Part of him hopes it hasn’t; if this is how Luke normally is with his friends, Michael has reason to be concerned. “Just let me help you. Let me try. You can be someone new! Instead of your old self! Well, your current self. Well — you get it.”

Michael sighs. “Okay,” he says, because the path of least resistance also seems like the fastest way to wear Luke out. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, and when Michael gives in he immediately springs into action.

“Amazing! First of all, let me take these —” Luke lifts Michael’s glasses off his nose and folds them up, then grabs Michael’s wrists and tugs him over to Luke’s bed. Michael doesn’t really see why this pseudo-makeover can’t happen from the safety of his own twin, but whatever. “See, Mikey, you just have to think logically. I mean, think about the big-shots you know about. Heads of state, diplomats.” Still chattering away, Luke reaches for something between his pillows, and Michael barely has time to register that it’s glitter — glitter, what the fuck, why would he keep that between his pillows — before it’s being dusted over his face. “Do you think they got those positions because they were smart? Of course not! They were popular. It’s all to do with being popular, Mikey. I know you’re smart, but that’s not enough anymore! It doesn’t matter how smart you are. It matters how many friends you’ve got.”

There’s a lot going on right now, what with Luke babbling about aptitude while he applies fucking glitter to Michael’s cheekbones, so Michael almost misses the part where Luke compliments him. Almost, but not quite. It’s right there; I know you’re smart, but…Michael feels his cheeks flush with pride.

“You really think being — popular is going to help me with my studies?” Michael asks hesitantly.

Luke beams, leaning away from Michael to survey his handiwork, and claps. Glitter clouds around his hands and flutters to the carpet.

“I don’t just think so,” he says giddily. “I know so. Okay. First of all, you need to learn to flirt.” Michael doesn’t really have time to wonder how flirting is going to help him get ahead in class, because Luke’s powering forward, and Michael has no choice but to listen in helpless captivity. “This is a simple two-step move. Step one: hair.”

“Hair,” Michael repeats.

“Yes, try and keep up,” Luke says impatiently. “Step one, you run your hand through your hair. Like so.” He demonstrates, and his hair takes on a charmingly mussed-up look. “Now you try!”

Certain that his hair will either stay the same or get worse, Michael concedes, dragging his hand half-heartedly through his hair. Luke looks unmoved.

“You’ve got to do it like you mean it, Mikey. Here, pretend I’m some hot guy you’re trying to impress. Well, you won’t need to pretend I’m a hot guy, but you get it.” He giggles.

Michael rolls his eyes. “Maybe if you tell me the second step I can put them together?”

“Oh! Right. Step two: bite your lip. Like so.” With a halfway smirk, Luke drags his bottom lip between his teeth, then grins at Michael. “Okay. Put it all together. Come on come on come on! You can do it!”

There’s no denying that Luke looks pretty sexy with his infallible two-step move, but equally no denying that Michael will crash and burn. Luke looks too excited not to at least give it a shot, though, so Michael bites the bullet.

He tries for a smile, which definitely looks more like a grimace, and then pulls a hand through his hair, biting his lower lip as he does. Confused by both things at once, he bites down too hard, and then winces. “Ow, fuck!”

Luke looks so overjoyed at his attempt that he wraps him up in a too-tight hug. When he pulls away he looks optimistic. “Well,” he says hopefully, “you can practice.” Michael snorts. Luke’s eyes light up like he’s struck with an idea, and he pulls Michael to his feet. “Ooh, oh! And now, I shall turn your ratty clothes into a bespoke suit!”

Ratty clothes? “I like these clothes,” Michael says defensively, as Luke grabs for his wand. Skinny jeans and t-shirts are most of his wardrobe, most if not all black. It’s part of his whole look. The emo, brooding loner look.

Luke ignores him, which is becoming a theme for the night. Morning. Whichever. Brandishing his wand in Michael’s general direction, he declares, “Suit!”

Nothing happens.

Luke frowns, taps the end of his wand, and emphatically repeats, “Suit!”

Again nothing.

“Is this thing even on?” Luke grumbles, and starts hitting the wand against his bed.

Michael doesn’t want to be wearing a suit, but he also doesn’t want Luke to break his wand over this. “Do you want me to try?” he offers.

“No!” Luke says hotly, and throws the wand behind him, where it clatters against the wall and then to the floor. Calmly, he adds, “Just keep the, um, statement clothes. They’re cute.”

His expression says otherwise, but Michael decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“And now for the finishing touch,” Luke says, leading Michael to sit again at the foot of Luke’s bed. Michael goes willingly; hopefully this means an end to this nonsense, and Michael can get to bed, and in the morning they can be, like, awkward acquaintances at best. Michael isn’t expecting a lasting friendship out of this. It will be nice not to be constantly hostile towards his roommate, sure, but Luke’s…well, Luke is Luke, cheerful and bubblegum pink and popular, and Michael is Michael, that is, none of those things. In no universe could he and Luke remain friends, whatever Michael might want.

Patiently, Michael sits and watches as Luke reaches for the flower clipped in his hair, pulling it neatly back from his face, and slides the clip into Michael’s hair instead. It probably looks ridiculous — Michael’s all dark colors and green and grumpy, and pink shouldn’t be within a five-foot radius of his outfit, much less in the form of a hair clip flower — but as soon as it’s in, Luke gives a short gasp, and a smile spreads slowly over his face.

“Pink goes good with green,” he says happily. Michael can’t help but smile himself at the sincerity in Luke’s expression. “Michael. Look at you. You’re beautiful.”

In all his years of life, Michael has never once been called beautiful, and he jerks at the word now, sure that Luke must be having him on, that this must all be an elaborate prank. But Luke tugs him to his feet and leads him to the mirror, and the Michael in the mirror is — huh.

Pretty, actually.

Everything fades around Michael until Luke is just a blur off to the side, and Michael stares at himself until his eyes start unfocusing. He’s never been pretty before, never been anything other than an embarrassment to everyone who’d known him. But now his cheeks glimmer when they catch the light, and somehow fussing with his hair has actually made it look soft and inviting, and the flower, somehow, inexplicably, does look good.

Warmth is blossoming in Michael’s chest, and with it, panic. This isn’t — this isn’t him. This isn’t Michael Clifford. This is some bootleg version of him, some bastardized combination of himself and Luke, and Luke isn’t who he wants to be, or even who he should be. He should be Michael fucking Clifford, and that should be enough. His intelligence should be good enough to carry him through his studies; he shouldn’t need popularity, or pink flowers.

“I,” he chokes out, as the world rushes back to him. “I have to go.” Anywhere else, anywhere other than in front of this mirror. He heads for the door but Luke grabs his arm.

“Hey,” he says, pouting. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Michael says, strangled. “I mean, thanks but no thanks. This isn’t me.”

“It looks like you,” Luke points out, still holding his wrist. “Just a prettier version of you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be prettier,” Michael snarls, wrenching his hand free.

“Who wouldn’t want to be prettier?”

Michael groans. It had been too good to be true all along; Luke really is that stupid, that shallow, that daft. “I don’t! I don’t care if I’m pretty, or if I know how to flirt, or if I’m wearing a fucking suit! I want to be enough as I am. This might be hard for you to believe, but some people want to have worth outside of their looks!”

Luke stares at him as Michael cuts himself off, chest heaving from the outburst. “You think all I am is a pretty face?”

“No, Luke,” Michael says tiredly. “You think all you are is a pretty face. But I don’t want to be that. I’d rather be clever than handsome.”

“You can be both clever and handsome,” Luke argues. “You’re not stupider if you put glitter on your face, Mikey.”

“Michael.”

“Mikey. I don’t think you’re being very fair right now.”

“How am I not being fair?”

“I’m trying to help you, and you’re just — yelling and running away!” Luke says, throwing his hands up. “Maybe instead of blaming me, you should acknowledge why you’re really upset right now, huh? Admit it — you’ve never felt beautiful in your life, and now you’re upset because you didn’t realize you could have been pretty all along, and it was stupid, bubbly Luke Hemmings who taught you how to do it! You’re embarrassed that I knew something that you didn’t!”

Michael opens his mouth to retort, closes it, opens it again as the pink rises predictably in Luke’s cheeks — he’s probably not prone to violent outbursts the way Michael is, or confrontation at all, and now he looks like he might start crying — and says quietly, “Okay. Fine. You’re right.”

Luke’s eyes go wide. “I’m…right?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, though it pains him to admit it. “You’re right. I — I’m sorry, Luke. I shouldn’t have tried to run out. You were just trying to help.”

“I did help,” Luke argues weakly, bottom lip quivering. “I did.”

“You did,” Michael allows. “Thank you.”

“You look really nice, you know,” Luke whispers. “Even if pink isn’t usually your color. It suits you.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael says, casting around for something to say. “Maybe you should start wearing green.”

Luke quirks his lips in a smile. “Maybe I should.”

He won’t, and they both know it — Luke’s color is going to be pink until the end of time — but it’s an olive branch for the both of them, and as one they both grab hold of it. Michael gets the feeling that something is going to be different. Maybe Luke isn’t just going to be an awkward acquaintance. Maybe they’ll be friends.

It’s far-fetched, but stranger things have happened. After all, Michael’s wearing glitter.

#i cant believe myself. i literally cant i cant believe THIS is how i break my ao3 silence i am not even a real person #luke hemmings #michael clifford #muke #muke fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #wicked au #muke!gelphie #i dont know what these tags are for i just #like. you know when uget possessed by thte writing bug #it hasnt happened to me in a long time #and of course tonight of all night it happens and THIS is what i write?????#i am not a real person i refuse to believe i am #anyway maggie and spidey anon this is literally ONLY for you #stuff #okay........................yeah it's half 4am and i should go to sleep so #enjoy this! see you guys in the morning #posting it at half 4am because that way i can pretend it didnt happen #disowning this fic as soon as it's posted #muke gelphie? cute idea . someone should write it !#:)))))))

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diamondchoices · 6 years ago

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Of Accusations and Apologies

[MC deserved an apology from Ajay at the very least, but since PB wasn’t gonna give it to us, I did. Click here if you’d rather read on Ao3.

m!MC: Dylan Hart

Word Count: 2496]

I always liked how clever you are, Dylan. But that also means that I know you’re clever enough to pull it off.

Ajay’s words from Friday’s rehearsal kept floating through Dylan’s mind, resurfacing any time he felt his mind start to drift from the issue. His eyes stung as he thought about Ajay’s face as he’d said those words—he didn’t want to believe it, Dylan reminds himself, he didn’t want to. The young director had looked upset, disappointed, angry, and a little disbelieving. Dylan wanted to believe that Ajay didn’t really believe that he would break Thea’s leg on purpose. He wished on as many stars as he could that Ajay didn’t really believe it.

I always liked how clever you are—

“Stop it,” Dylan croaks to his pillow. It’s the middle of the night, and he’s having a hard time falling asleep. His nose is running and there’s a wet spot on his pillow from crying.

—I know you’re clever enough—

He doesn’t get any sleep that night.

—//—

Dylan was surprised that Thea invited him to her party, but he was glad she did. He was in desperate need of a distraction from…well, everything. And being thrilled and terrified was a pretty good distraction from feeling miserable.

He was the only freshman in the room but none of them treated him like he was a little kid like some other upperclassmen had when talking to freshmen. He also noticed that there were a couple people at the party who didn’t go to Berry so at least if he embarrassed himself, he was less likely to see them—a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. Then Thea had explained Friday’s rehearsal and Dylan was surprised and elated to hear that no one in the room believed he would have harmed Thea purposefully.

When the guy in the green jacket—Michael, if Dylan remembered correctly—had said that they’d found themselves in similar situations last year.

“Really?” Dylan asked.

Thea and the person from the art gallery, Cameron, looked at each other and chuckled.

“Oh yeah,” Thea told him. “During spring quarter last year, while Hearst students had to attend Berry, I was accused of sabotaging Cameron’s audition for the sax solo. They’d gotten an email saying that the audition was postponed when it hadn’t been.”

Dylan’s eyes widened.

“That’s awful!”

“Yeah, it is,” Thea smiled. “But we got to the bottom of it in the end and my name was cleared. I have no doubt yours will be too.”

Dylan smiled and gave her a small nod.

Yeah, he thought, it was an accident. Mr. Olson will look into it and everyone will realize I’m innocent.

“So,” Myra smirked, a gleam in her eyes. “Dylan. Crushing on anyone yet?”

Dylan flushed as he started to stutter, one hand going to the back of his neck while the other fiddled with the hem of his shirt. His ears felt like they were on fire as Myra began to laugh a little and Aiden leaned towards him worriedly.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Myra cheered. “Who is it? Are they in the play? Ooo, is it the other lead—you know, that sophomore, Rory?”

“N-no! It’s not Rory,” Dylan said just as quickly as the rising temperature of his face. “And, I mean, they’re in—he’s part of the play, yeah, he’s just—just not on the stage.”

Myra looked like she was about to continue her interrogation, but Emma interrupted while Caleb clapped a hand on Dylan’s shoulder.

“Aw, leave him alone, Myra,” she said, voice sweet and teasing. “Look at him! He’s embarrassed enough.”

“Fine,” Myra huffed. She pointed a finger at Dylan, eyes narrowed. “But I will figure it out.”

Dylan covered his face in his hands as the rest of the people laughed and Caleb quietly explained Myra’s obsession with setting up her friends. Apparently, she and Thea were quite the matchmaking duo—they had helped Caleb with Jade and Luis with Emma, and Caleb was pretty sure that Myra was pulling some strings to help Aiden and Thea too. Dylan couldn’t tell if the athlete was trying to encourage him to let Myra meddle or just trying to explain that this behavior is normal.

He decided he didn’t really care either way. These people were so cheerful and welcoming and nice.

Dylan liked them.

—//—

The party had been winding down and Dylan hadn’t thought about the accusations once since it had been brought up when he had arrived. Then the other shoe dropped.

It had started with a game of charades. Dylan’s team was winning, and it was his turn to do the charades instead of guess. He had looked at his slip of paper that he’d pulled out of someone’s hat and only thought for a few seconds before an idea took hold. According to the timer, it took his team four minutes and thirteen seconds to figure out what he was miming.

“Wow, I never would have thought of doing that if I’d drawn it,” Emma smiled. “You’re really clever, Dylan.”

I always liked how clever you were, Dylan.

He drew in a sharp breath and gave a shaky smile as he excused himself to the bathroom, Ajay’s words bouncing around in his head again. And just like that, it was like the floodgates had opened.

—liked how clever—that means I know you’re clever enough to—I always—Dylan—Dylan—Dyl—

“—an? Dylan, hey,” there were fingers being snapped in front of his face, “are you feeling alright?”

Dylan looked up at Thea’s concerned face. He noticed that he hadn’t quite made it to the bathroom and that he was leaning against the wall of the hallway, just far enough away that no one would see him unless they were standing at the mouth of the hallway. He was on the floor, back to the wall, and his fingers had pressed into his palms hard enough to leave little crescent moons in the skin.

Thea snapped her fingers again and Dylan managed to refocus some.

“Uh, no, yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” Dylan said, forcing a smile on his face even though it was the least convincing thing he could do. He wouldn’t have believed himself, that’s for sure.

An eyebrow rose ever so slightly and that was all it took. He caved, too tired to hold it in any more.

“No, I-I guess I’m not…fine,” he sighed. “It’s just…it’s something that, that Ajay said…on Friday.”

Thea moved to sit down next to him, plopping herself down with little grace.

“And what did Ajay say?”

“He—He said that…that he always liked how clever I was, but…” Dylan’s voice cracked as his eyes started to burn. “But that it just meant he knew—meant he knew that I was, was clever enough to p-pull it off.”

He closed his eyes tight, trying desperately to keep his tears to himself. He felt arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him sideways, as Thea made a sympathetic sound. She guided his head to her shoulder, and as she started to run her fingers soothingly through his hair, the tears slipped past his eyelids. His breathing grew shaky as he tried to rein in his emotions.

“It re-really hurt,” he whispered. “Be-because we’d been—we’d been hanging out and we were…we are friends, and I—I really—”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Thea hushed, beginning to rock very slightly. “It’s okay. I know it hurts. And I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it is going to be okay, I promise. I may not know Ajay as well as I know the people here at this party, but from what I do know about him, he and Aiden are a bit alike—when they’re upset, they don’t always say the right things or what they mean, and they always feel terrible about it afterwards.”

The tears had slowed, and Dylan was only sniffling now, but he didn’t dare lift his head from Thea’s shoulder. Her fingers still threaded through his hair, nails scratching dully against his scalp. That combined with the exhaustion that follows crying, he was slowly being lulled into a state of sleepy calm. They both just sat there in the calm, not daring to break the silence between them as laughter erupted from the living room.

It was another couple of minutes before either of them said anything.

“Thanks,” Dylan muttered, voice still in a state of post-cry scratchiness. He lifted his head and leaned forward off the wall a bit. Thea’s hand moved from his hair to rub his back with a friendly smile. “Sorry for crying all over you. That’s…really not what I was planning on doing tonight.”

“Don’t mention it,” Thea dismissed. “I couldn’t let a friend be on their own when they kind of looked like they might have a panic attack.”

Dylan blinked at her, brain hung up on one word.

“F-Friend? Are we…friends?” He asked, quiet and hesitant and maybe just a bit hopeful.

“Yeah,” Thea chuckled, smile bright. “Yeah, we’re friends. In fact, if by lunch at school tomorrow you’re feeling overwhelmed or anxious, you should come sit with us. It’s supposed to be a nice day tomorrow, so we’ll probably eat in the courtyard.”

“Alright, if—if you’re sure it’s okay,” Dylan told her, unable to stop his small grin from growing into a large smile of relief and gratitude. “Man, I really should go to the bathroom now, huh? I’d rather not walk back in there looking like…well, this.”

Dylan gestured to his face and Thea laughed.

“It’s not too bad, but I totally get it. I always feel like I look like a wreck after crying. Just come back out when you’re feeling up to it, okay?”

He nodded and they both stood up from the floor, Dylan offering a helping hand when he reached his feet before she did. Dylan swiped a hand across his cheek quickly and smiled, promptly tripping over his own feet once he took a step towards the second door on the right. Thea chuckled but otherwise didn’t say anything as she turned the corner and walked back into the living room.

Embarrassed but pleased, Dylan made quick work of his (actual) bathroom visit, splashing cold water on his face until the red in his face died down and his eyes weren’t red and puffy. He rejoined the party with a smile, and no one said anything about his fairly lengthy bathroom break.

When he returned home and had gone to bed, Dylan found that sleep came much easier that night.

—//—

Dylan ended up eating lunch outside with Thea. Skye and Erin joined them a few minutes after Dylan had sat down with Thea, Aiden, Emma, and Luis.

He hadn’t planned on eating outside. He’d wanted to try and talk to Rory, but he’d been harshly shut down by Danielle, Natalie, and Clint and told to sit somewhere else. Ajay hadn’t even been able to look him in the eye, despite Dylan’s attempts to catch his gaze before giving up and stalking off. He’d been grateful that he at least had a backup plan for lunch.

“He couldn’t even look at me,” Dylan moped, head in one hand as he ate.

Erin put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder as Skye glared and stabbed at her food.

“It’s total bullshit! I doubt you could even bring yourself to hurt a fly,” Skye griped. “I told Trevor as much over and over after practice but he’s being a complete ass about it.”

“Look, I really doubt that Ajay actually believes you brought out the wrong box on purpose,” Erin says, expression a mix of anger, defeat, and exhaustion. “He just thinks it’s his job as the director to be impartial.”

“Hmm,” Thea hummed. “From what I’m hearing, it sounds like he feels pretty guilty about this fiasco at least.”

Emma nodded vigorously.

“It really does! I’m sure if you’re able to get him alone and talk to him, you’d be able to smooth some of this over until everyone else realizes that you’re innocent,” she said, smile optimistic. Aiden, on the other hand, looked less convinced.

“I’m not so sure that’d be a good idea, Emma,” Aiden sighed. “If Dylan did that, he’d have just as good a chance at making things worse. Ajay’s already confused and conflicted; cornering him would probably just make him lash out or make a rash decision.”

Dylan pursed his lips, pushing his food around on his tray.

“Well,” Skye looked up, leveling him with a determined look. “Today’s rehearsal will settle everything, one way or another.”

Not long after, the bell rang and everyone started clearing out to get back to class.

—//—

Danielle confessed. She had been the one to make sure Dylan grabbed the box with wheels. She had been the one accuse him first. She had been the one to scheme for a particular part.

All that trouble because of a crush.

Maybe Ajay is right, Dylan thought. Relationships between actors are dangerous.

Aside from the rocky start, that day’s rehearsal had gone well overall. Dylan and Trevor avoided each other, awkwardly working around the other when they occupied the same space. Neither Natalie nor Clint apologized but they had gone back to their normal obnoxious selves which was a relief. Dylan was particularly happy about the air of smugness that Erin had, relentlessly telling everyone that she’d told them so.

Rehearsal had ended on a positive note, everyone optimistic for the performance.

Dylan was grabbing his backpack from the audience seat he had left it in when someone behind him cleared their throat. He jumped and turned with wide eyes to find Ajay standing behind him with his hands in his pockets.

“Dylan, I…” Ajay sighed, shoulders losing tension as he finally met Dylan’s eyes. “I owe you an apology. I know that—I know I said I knew you would be clever enough to pull off such a trick, but I—I should have also known that you aren’t the type of person who would even though you could. And I should have said something on Friday because Erin was right. You’re my friend, and I should have said or done something.”

His arms were wrapped around Ajay before he could finish his sentence. He pressed his face into the older boy’s shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I accept your apology,” Dylan said quietly. “But if you want my forgiveness, you have to buy me a milkshake.”

Ajay snorted and Dylan felt a laugh building in his chest.

“Heh, cute. Alright then, grab your stuff and we’ll go.”

“Right now?” Dylan asked, surprised. Ajay smiled at him, a soft barely-there redness in his cheeks.

“Well, I’d rather have your forgiveness as soon as possible, but I guess if you don’t—”

“No, don’t be mean! I’m coming!”

#high school story #high school story class act #hss #hss class act #hss class act mc #hss mc #hss mc: thea mcclain #hssca mc: Dylan hart #mc x ajay #mc x ajay fic #mc x aiden #choices #choices fic #fanfic #fanfiction #choices stories you play #choices hss #choices hssca

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sakuramarie · 6 years ago

Text

Sea Witch Marinette

So I kinda feel a bit ashamed of my WIP Game results SO I decided to try and knock off some of these WIP off my list. Now granted, this WIP was almost done anyway but I’d like to make some progress here XD .

Summary: Before Marinette was born war broke out between the Mer and Cecaelia. The Mer being led by the Agreste and the Cecaelia being led by the than Queen who was a Cecaelia. The Queen's forces lost and all her followers and kind were banished to the trenches. The Cecaelia's never forgot and forgave the treachery.

Marinette is a Cecaelia raised to distrust and resent mers and she does. Her favorite target of her hate was the mer prince Adrien. As she stalks hs life plotting against him, she gets to know the poor lonely boy who wants to escape the palace and her heart melts.

When she sees Adrien run away from home she sends her two companions Tikki and Plagg to lure the prince to her has two reasons to lure him to her. One to actually help and meet her prince second reason is save him from seeing the wrong witch who would harm him and give him a terrible deal. If word got out the Agreste Heir was in the trench, it would be disaster.

What Adrien wants is to be normal and being human seemed like the only way. He was known throughout the seven seas after all. He heard the stories of Cecaelia's natural affinity for magic and even if they were mortal enemies he was willing to do anything to escape the ocean.

Addional Information: This was based on the art i did Day 31 of AU Yeah AUgust: Dealer's Choice I do like this idea a lot but I have a very vague idea of what I want for it and I have so many WIPs I need to tackle before I try to deal with this.

Marinette made herself and her cave look presentable.

She had to make an impression that would make her witchy ancestors proud.

"I am a seductive and conniving witch! " she said to herself multiple times as if saying it as a mantra would make it automatically true.

Plagg snorted at this " Oh yeah~ and I am Queen of the Mers" He said in an annoying smug tone that made Marinette turn at incredible speeds and glare at him.

"Shut up Plagg! Don't you have a prince to be led here?"

"Tikki can handle it~ I need to be here to mess with you."

Marinette sputters " I will turn you into the smallest kelp fish in existence if you don't leave right now!"

The large eel laughs " Don't get your tentacles in a twist! I'm going! I'm going! "

The eel swims off before Marinette could throw a potion at him.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself. Nothing was going to go wrong, she just knew it. Everything will be fine and she will make her first real deal.

Ok , so maybe she wasn't the smoothest sea witch in the seven seas. She had tried so hard to imitate some of the older witches with their tips to seduce Mers. It didn't seem to help, unless one calls tripping over her cauldron seductive.

She was so close. She maintained eye contact, let her tentacles gently graze his face, arms and torso, used the patented "seductive witch voice" all was going well. He was a mess after everything she did and she was feeling confidant. Her confidence must have been her downfall cause it seemed when that happened, her clumsiness decides to strike. How was she supposed to convince him she was a capable witch when she tripped over her own cauldron.

Still, she SOMEHOW managed to get him to make a deal with her. It was oddly easy, he didn't resist at all to her terms or anything. Still there was a tiny little detail they needed to straighten out before she could start her spell.

"You can't have something for nothing... "

"What do you want? "

"Hmm ... i need something that is equal in value to gaining legs... " She was playing with her seashell necklace absent mindly, trying to come up with something he could give. His money meant nothing to her so what could he give? "

"Will my voice work? No one listens to me anyway. I don't need it, not really. "

Marinette's heart broke at that, the poor neglected mer. How underappreciated does he feel if he feels his voice meant so little to him? Still, a voice was a good trade and to a witch it was very useful for spells.

"I accept that your offer of your voice. "

Adrien smiles widely and shakes her hand

"Pleasure doing business with you my lady. " He shakes her hand then kisses it.

Marinette goes so insanely red and stutters "u-u-uh yes! Contract! W-w-w-w contract sigh... sign! Sign Contract! "

"Keeping it legal my lady? "

"Y-yes... It keeps me protected... " She nods rapidly as she makes a contract appear "feel free to read...'

Adrien looks over the paper for a few seconds " It still says I have a month to get True Love's kiss right or I belong to you ...? Just like we agreed?"

"Y-yes?..."

"Ok than! " he grabs the quill made of fish bones and happily signed his name. Marinette looks baffled as he didn't even bother to comprehend the contract. He was entirely to trusting, to a fault. He was missing quite a few key terms and conditions that they didn't even have time to fully discuss.

It was a good thing she found him before anyone else could.

A week into Adrien becoming human she gets a visit from the king himself. She wasn't surprised in the slightest that he was upset. She was more surprised he actually bothered to come himself and not send his favorite Nathalie. He seemed to use her as a stand in when talking to Adrien all the time anyway. She had seen it plenty of times when she was watching Adrien.

Marinette glares at King Gabriel as he flung insults at her. She turns her back to him and tries to swim away, obviously disrespecting him.

"How dare you steal my son! I demand you release him to me!"

Marinette stops as she rolls her eyes " I don't have him... right now. "

Gabriel looks confused as Marinette continues " He still has a while to finish his end of the deal. If he doesn't, Well... he will belong to me."

Gabriel tries not to sputter "You tricked him! You played dirty and it's all your fault."

Marinette is enraged now as she turns to face the king "How dare you accuse me like this. I would never do him wrong and I NEVER tricked him. I told him my terms and he happily agreed to them and signed our contract. None of this is my fault. YOUR son came to the trenches... Your son actively saught a witch to make a deal. He was so desperate to escape your kingdom he was willing to swim into an the sea lion's den and make a deal with a devil in order to escape. You should be thanking me by the way. I ,in essence, saved his gullible tail because the Prince would be a hot commodity down here. I gave him all the chance in the world to succeed and I will not turn him into some little guppy mutant if he failed. Trust me on this, no one here would let the Agreste heir live if they made a deal with him. If anything... this is YOUR fault! He wouldn't have left if it wasn't for you."

Gabriel looked affronted as this tiny witch swam up to him to meet him in the eyes.

"Oh, I could make a deal with you.. but there is no way I will extend any courtesy to you"

"I am the KING"

"Not mine! Never mine. Our lives are nothing but misery because of you and your father. I hate you and everything you stand for. Consider this a fair warning, King of fools. I will be the friendliest witch you can meet here. You have no power here. Magic comes at a price and we are the merchants, You and your father did not do yourselves favors as you have angered the merchants."

"You are just as bad as your kind's reputation" he snarls

Marinette sticks her nose up "Oh, that is rich. You are not a saint, Gabriel. " she drawls

"How dare you be so formal "

"Down here, you are just a mer. A plain mer and you are way out of your element. So you will listen or so help me I will hex you! It doesn't take a crystal ball to know you are utterly consumed with appearances. I will hex you so hard it will make you hide away in shame since that seems to be the only thing in the world that seems to matter to you!"

"Show me this contract you said he signed. "

Marinette pulls it out of thin air and he tries to destroy it with his scepter. She rolls her eyes and shoves it in his face

" It is a legal binding contract. completely unbreakable, even by you. "

He barely manages to read the first paragraph when it rolls up and it vanishes.

" Leave .. now" Marinette's voice is low and dangerous "you are unwelcome here. Your son is not here. He is on land, it's too late for you to stop it. No matter what, you lost your prince and you are to blame. "

#Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir #miraculous ladybug #adrienette #fanfcition #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #mermaid AU #sea witch marinette #Merman Adrien

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fiveknivesdates · 5 years ago

Text

Starting fires wherever we go

Camilla

The rest of the floors pass in a blur. Shira showed me the training rooms and the cinema, the gardens and the hangars. She even showed me an entire floor that is just a maze. She told me that the Maze can be changed into different settings, like a cave system or city plan.

“Are we done now?” I ask as we enter the elevator again. We had just been inside the hangars, which Shira had told me were the last floor. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on my stuff again, and then go to sleep.

“Not quite,” Shira said with that usual cheer in her voice that reminded me of a more chaotic Erika. “We would be bad hosts if we just let you go to bed without dinner, n’at”

It was the first time I really noticed that Shira had an accent with the slur of words and that. I couldn’t place the origin of her accent. I am only really familiar with the English my mom used when I was younger. I realized that I must also have an accent when speaking English, and it was highly likely that I had inherited my mother’s Italian accent. It made me close my mouth, afraid that Shira or one of the others might suspect that I had deeper roots than just being Danish. Italy was my secret, it was my plan B if everything else failed. I couldn't give that away to any of them, and especially not through something so stupid as an accent.

Shira didn't notice my silence but continued. “I am sure that some of the others will show up, so it’ll be a chance for you to get to know the others”

She looks at me, waiting for something. A reply, a nod of my head, anything to acknowledge what she said. I continue staring ahead, waiting for the doors to open. As soon as they do, I step out into the Kitchen and Common Room. Erika, Zeph, and Aiden are all sitting by a dining table, talking quietly together. A girl that I hadn’t seen before is standing by the kitchen, possibly making the food. Her back is turned to me, but still, I can see something elegant about her, it's in the way she holds herself as if her feet aren't touching the ground. Her hair is such a light shade of blonde that it looks white. She is wearing a white dress with a silver belt, and her shoes look like porcelain. She moves around the kitchen with grace, her pale hands poking around in the cabins

Shira sits down by the table, so I follow her reluctantly.

“What do you think of the Pyramid?” Erika asked. She was sitting in front of me, with her hands folded neatly on the table.

“I like it” I lie. The only thing going through my mind is how much I want to leave and go back to my room.

“That’s good to hear,” She smiles genuinely. “You must be hungry then. Morrigan, won't you tell Camilla what’s for dinner?”

The girl with the white hair, Morrigan, looks over at me with gray eyes, up and down as she judges my worth.

“Pie with roasted chicken on the side,” She said with a smile that showed of her perfect teeth, her face radiating fake all over.

“Dips on the chicken,” Zeph says quickly, eyeing the oven.

“You are disgusting,” Lynn says simply from behind me. I had not noticed him joining us. I looked back and forth at Zeph and Lynn, but none of them said anything further. Morrigan sat the food down on the table and everyone began taking a piece of the pie, except Zeph who only took the chicken.

“Don’t mind Zeph,” Erika said to me, clearly noticing that I was still staring. “The only kind of meat that Zeph eats is chicken.”

“Is it a diet thing?” I ask, mostly to make small talk.

“No,” Zeph cuts in, mouth full of chicken. “It's cause it's fucking delicious”

“You are literally going to die of poisoning,” Lynn said

I looked at Erika for an explanation, but she only shrugged.

The conversation never died at the table. Shira and Aiden talked the most, and they talked loud, laughing and almost choking on their drinks multiple times. Zeph and Erika talked with Shira and Aiden from time to time, but they seemed more interested in asking me questions, all of which I avoided or ignored. Sometimes someone would ask Morrigan a question, and she’d answer politely, still with that edge in her voice. It was clear that Morrigan felt somewhat distant towards the others.

Lynn was situated between Morrigan and Zeph, and he kept glancing over at Zeph and his roasted chicken.

“So Camilla,” Erika started. I tensed, waiting for her question. “How come you are so good at English? Not to be invasive or anything, but you did drop out of school early”

I shrugged, making something up in my mind. “It just came naturally. Maybe it's a power or whatever. How come some of you have accents? Where are you all from?” I narrowly changed the subject and gave myself a mental pad on the shoulder.

Erika simply smiled at me, which didn’t make me feel good. I was beginning to suspect that she wasn't taking me seriously. “Both me and Shira are from America.”

“I’m Canadian,” Aiden said, not hiding the fact that he must have been listening to our conversation. “We are kinda like the American Trinity.”

“I voted for ‘American Gods’,” Shira said. “You know, like the book, but apparently it's an unsaid rule that we should not compare ourselves to gods.”

“But your accent?” I asked Shira, who then began laughing. Zeph and Aiden both joined her, with Erika smiling along and the two others just staring at them.

“Americans have accents. Erika has an accent too, she just hides it” Shira shrieked, trying to stop laughing.

“As if Erika has an accent,” Aiden yelled, “You were fucking unintelligible when we first met you. All yinz and n’that. That! That was an accent like I’ve ever heard one”

“And you don't think you talk a tad bit funny, eh?” Shira teased right back. They continued going back and forth until I realized that I was no longer a part of the conversation I had originally started. I looked down at my food.

“Shira is from Pittsburgh,” Erika told me with her gentle voice. “They tend to talk rather funny there”

“What about the others,” I asked, trying to ignore Shira and Aiden’s loud and friendly bickering. “Where are they from?”

“Morrigan is from Sweden, so don't try to curse at her or anything in Danish. Lynn is from Australia, though I think he might also be Irish, I don't know, he never really talks about it. Adi is German.”

“And what about Zeph,” I asked, glancing over at the guy who was slowly chewing his chicken while smirking at a fuming Lynn.

Erika just shrugged. “Dunno. Somewhere in Europe?”

“Oh,”

“He used to be a Drifter,” Erika said, then explained when she saw my look of confusion. “A Tethered person who isn’t part of the Organization. There are quite a lot of them, actually. They usually operate on their own in territories. Both North Africa, Alaska and parts of India are controlled by other Tethered, which makes it extremely dangerous for us to enter those zones since Drifters tend to be quite territorial.”

“But Zeph was a drifter?” I asked, “For how long?”

“I don't know, like thirty years or something.” Erika wondered. “He teamed up with Javier in like the forties and they both joined the Organization in 1977.”

Everybody by the table went quiet at the mention of Javier’s name, and a few even turned to look over at Zeph.

“Who’s Javier?” I asked, maybe a bit too oblivious about the situation in front of me.

“Javier was the best thing that ever happened to this place,” Zeph said quietly, then laughed and ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair. “Sorry, I just. I don't know. He died four years ago. Killed.” Zeph said with force. “He was killed four years ago”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I knew I should properly offer comfort, but I barely knew Zeph nor this Javier.

“I am sorry,” I tried, but even I could hear that I wasn’t, that I didn't really care.

“It's okay, I am fine now,” Zeph said. “I just wish we had found out who killed him and Miriam.”

“It’s not like it could just be anyone,” Aiden said, glancing over at the other side of the table where Morrigan and Lynn were sitting.

“Only Tethered people can kill Tethered people,” Erika told me, trying to put the conversation back on track. “We are immortal unless someone takes our immortality, which takes a lot of power to do”

She clearly failed in keeping the others civil, because Morrigan shot Aiden back with a. “Why are you so quick to make up assumptions?”

“Because you never liked Javier and were clearly jealous of Miriam,” Aiden accused

“You don't know anything,” Morrigan yelled, getting up from her chair. Her silver-gray eyes were blazing with fury. “How dare you accuse me of murder. How dare you say to my face, in front of everyone, that I was jealous of Miriam. Miriam! She was my friend, Aiden, but clearly you don't know what those are, seeing as you always just third wheel on everyone else” Everyone was quiet for way too long. I was about to open my mouth to say something, but then Aiden got up too and said with a calm I knew he was faking. “Thanks for dinner, Morrigan. It’s always a pleasure to hear your opinion”

Everyone followed him with their eyes as he left, his footsteps ringing loudly through the room.

“Morrigan,” Erika said disappointingly. “That was not very nice”

“He had it coming,” Morrigan answered airily. “He should know not to throw accusations around at dinner. Better wait till after dessert with wreaking havoc in the family”

Nobody said anything again. We all continued to eat or dinner and soon we moved onto dessert which was a soft chocolate cake that Morrigan had also made. Her cooking wasn’t anything extraordinary, but still it felt like the best meal I had ever had.

It wasn't until we were halfway through dinner before Shira said “I really hope we have it wrong. That it's not one of us, but someone or something else.”

I fell down onto my bed as soon as we were done. My brain was still buzzing from being around so many new people, and my vision was blurring slightly at the edges. Still, I couldn't sleep. The conversation between the others kept replaying in my mind. If I had understood correctly, two people had been murdered, which meant a murder was on the loose. It seemed kind of unsafe for my well being to stay in a place where there had been two unsolved murders. I knew how hard it was to end someone else’s life and I didn’t trust anyone who could do that to another human being.

I knew I had to leave before it was I who was dead.

Still, I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t trust a single person here, I knew it was dangerous, knew that I could just leave right now and find someplace in the world, and then live peacefully for hundreds of years, but I was just beginning to learn about this new side of myself that I had never known existed. I wanted so badly to learn how to use my powers, I wanted that rush of power I felt when I was running or when I was swimming. I wanted to feel alive and to feel well, and I suspected this was the only place I might learn how to feel those things.

That’s why I came up with my plan. It is a compromise that will let me stay, while also making sure that I wouldn’t be in danger for longer than necessary.

The plan: Find the murderer. It sounded unrealistic in my own ears, but still, I needed to try. It was the only way my own paranoia would let me stay in this place.

It was the only way I could live with myself.

I closed my eyes. Determined to do this and do it well. I needed all my walls in place, I needed to be able to be objective, to never get too close to the suspects, and they were all suspects. I needed to think quickly, but if there was anything that I was, it was fast. Faster than everyone else.

With my eyes closed, the only thing I could hear was my own heartbeat, fast but steady, never slowing down, never giving up. I heard as much as I felt two screams from far away, and just as the third was about to be unleashed, I woke to the quiet of my new room.

On my bedside table is the book that Shira had given me. A page for each member of this place, a page for the two people who are dead, and quite possibly also a page for the one who killed them. Now I just had to figure you who could have done it <- Previous chapter // Next chapter ->

Chapter index

#n'at #Original story #Five Knives #Five Knives Story #Murder here we go

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ravenhairedknight-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Who {Backstory}

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Mental/Emotional/Verbal Abuse & Rape

Ashley sighed to herself as she sifted through one of the many boxes that were piled up in her bedroom. She had just finished putting whatever personal items she had packed inside of her apartment, with the help of her older brothers. Ashley never thought she would ever live in an apartment again, but...it was much better than the toxic environment she'd been subjected to over the last three years

Ashley never thought in a million years that her life would take the turn that it did. She thought that she'd met her Prince Charming, and that they would be living out their Happily Ever After together. But...her Prince Charming was far from the man she thought he was. Unbeknownst to the young Brit, there was a monster lurking behind those seemingly innocent brown eyes. A monster that, over time, manifested slowly deep within the heart of the man that she once loved. She didn't see it at first, though. No. She was naïve, thinking that she was overreacting to what was going on. Surely, her Prince Charming would never treat her so poorly...

Oh, how wrong she was...

Alfie's behaviour had begun to grow increasingly worse as time went on. His once innocent jealousy had grown into bitter resentment towards any man that dared to even breathe in Ashley's direction. He'd constantly accuse her of cheating on him if she took too long to reply to any of his text messages, or if he caught her even casually talking to another man. It got to the point that he wouldn't allow her to go to work unless he approved of her attire, and, he wouldn't even allow her to wear makeup. He had gone behind her back and threw out every article of clothing he deemed to be "too slutty" and had thrown out every bit of makeup she owned. He barred her from interacting with anyone unless he approved of it, and this included her own mother, who had been nothing but kind to Alfie since the two had met. Day in and day out, Ashley was subjected to horrific mental, verbal, and emotional abuse. He had alienated her from all her family and friends. Thomas and Erin blamed her for the sudden change in Alfie's behaviour, too. All because of the fact that Alfie was soon treating his own family and friends the way that he was treating his own wife...

Alfie had grown jealous of Ned and Hannah, due to the fact that he felt like their wedding was being made into a bigger deal and was gaining more attention than his. The verbal altercation had grown physical when Alfie, to Ned's face, referred to Hannah as an "attention seeker" and a "disgusting, junkie whore." Ned and Hannah had eventually barred the two of them from the wedding, and, soon they had cut off all contact. Alfie, unfortunately, worked with Ned, but, Ned had made sure to not speak to, or go anywhere near Alfie. Everyone soon followed suit. This even included Thomas, Erin, and Vivian. And, as the years rolled on, the abuse had gotten worse. And, sadly, it took something worse than a verbal berating for Ashley to finally say that enough was enough...

Alfie was also a sexual deviant. He constantly demanded sex from Ashley, even if she was on her menstrual cycle. He never cared if she was in any sort of pain, either. If she expressed the fact that something he was doing was hurting her, he'd tell her that she was being a baby and that it wasn't that bad. He'd say that even if she was screaming and crying from the pain. He only ever cared about his own pleasure. Eventually, Ashley had started fighting back, even if it resulted in Alfie going on his usual rants about her being a horrible wife and that he'd find someone that would give him sex whenever he wanted it. But...that never happened...

It was the first time that Ashley had decided to fight back that this had taken place. She had a really long day at work, and, she was too tired and sore to even consider having sex. Alfie, of course, tried his hardest to get her to cave, but, to no avail. Ashley had shoved him off of her, and that's when he grew angry. Before Ashley could even dare to move, Alfie had pounced on her, pinning her beneath him with all of his weight. Ashley tried to fight back, but, Alfie was much stronger than she could ever be. She continued to try and fight as Alfie tore her panties off, and he ignored her attempts to fight back as he violently raped her. It took every ounce of adrenaline in her to finally push Alfie off of her, and, she managed to land a hard kick to his groin as she ran to get her car keys. She didn't even care that she was naked from the waist down and without shoes as she ran to her car and drove herself to the hospital to get treated. Thankfully, Rebecca still had some compassion in her heart to convince Ashley to file charges, as well as a restraining order. Ashley did both, then, she had asked George to call James...

She wanted to file for divorce

Thankfully for her, the divorce went by smoothly and quickly. Though he hated her, James did everything he possibly could to help her. She had a police escort to help her pack up her things and leave, because she was afraid that Alfie was going to hurt her. Her mother was supposed to come by at some point and help her get unpacked and settled. Ashley was surprised her mother still loved her enough to want anything to do with her. Now...it was time for Ashley to start a new chapter in her life. She was going to get the old her back, no matter what it took

Alfie isn't going to hurt her. Never again...

#tw: rape #tw: mental abuse #tw: verbal abuse #tw: emotional abuse

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beautifulramblingbrains · 7 years ago

Text

Crush - Chapter 5. Entry Level

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M

A memory from Eric’s past plays tricks on him. And it’s all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: Thanks for all your kind words! :) Enjoy!

Tags: @iammarylastar @badassbaker @pathybo @mimigemrose @frecklefaceb @beltz2016 @ariwolff14 @lauraaan182 @kenzieam @tigpooh67

Eric had multiple things that demanded his attention. His top priority being organizing Dauntless around Amity, then coaching Amity folk, who Johanna had asked, to be briefly instructed on movements so they weren't left out of the loop. – Johanna's words, not his.

That damn woman wouldn't let it rest. She just had to have her two cents in whatever was going on. Didn't she realize he needed to report her liaisons with the factionless to Max and Jeanine at some point and possibly get her prosecuted? Any other functioning human being with a brain would be keeping their head low; inconspicuous – not Johanna.

But what seemed to pain him the most when the sun began to set across the rolling fields and throwing shapes and shadows upon the odd Amity buildings, was that he still hadn't seen Abbey. He actually didn't have time and it was a specific guilt that had begun to burn, slowly at first, then he was almost beginning to feel frantic with it and he wanted nothing more than to try and rid of it, however, he had no idea how. He'd actually never felt guilt like this. To some extents, on small personal levels, yes. But not like this.

It was practically written across his face as a group of Dauntless appeared from one of their rounds and found him at Johanna's office, telling him for the umpteenth time that nothing was happening or out of the ordinary. But he knew it was only a matter of time. Today, tomorrow, a week. Eric had amazing gut instincts and very much relied on them. Right now, they were telling him something was coming, he just didn't know when.

Eric had been using Johanna's building all day as a temporary workplace, a meeting point easily reached by others to handle small problems. - At one point, he had to dismiss accusations that the Dauntless were too loud during meal times. It was extremely bothersome.

As the Dauntless group finally leaves to continue their rounds, he calls it a night, grabbing his stuff off the desk and sighing to himself. This barnyard was a sweat box and he couldn't think of doing anything other than hitting the shower first thing.

"Knock, knock."

Abbey chinks a bottle of something on the side of the staircase railing as she talks, and Eric roams over her for a second before a creeping winning smirk begins to form. She couldn't have been all that mad at him earlier, possibly just shocked which caused her to react the way she did. She smiles back at him and he closes the distance, meeting her on the stairs.

"What's this?" He points to the bottle in her hand but not before touching her, running fingers down her arm, anything.

"You're in Amity so it's wine." Her eyes follow his hands. "I thought you might need it… could use it. You look a little stressed."

"I've been stuck around here all day. Of course, I'm stressed." His tone is a little snappier than he'd like but she doesn't take any notice. "You trying to get me drunk, Abbey?" He quirks a brow, unsure as to whether she was celebrating being free from her fiancée or the fact she was actually being slightly seductive, or both.

"Yeah, so I can take advantage of you. I'd have no chance of overpowering you and having my wicked way with you if you were sober," she laughs lightly. "Of course not. I thought we could just, you know, relax…" She motions something stupid when she says relax and he bites back how provocatively endearing she appears.

"I need to shower before I do anything."

She juts her bottom lip out. "You could shower at mine? And I can cook now." She says expressively and excitedly. "Nothing like that awful meal I tried to feed us when my parents weren't in that time." The memory floods back to him, he overlooked the black bacon and burnt eggs - she really can't cook. "So, I'll make you something?"

"Fuck no, you'll poison me."

He descends the stairs after her and she turns back a little, throwing her arm through his that sit casually in his pockets. "Okay, fine, you can cook us something, deal? Great, thanks for offering."

"Dick."

"You owe me anyway." She pulls on his arm throwing him off balance.

"I owe you nothing."

"Eric… You went without my word to my now ex-fiancée and told him to break up with me. And for that you owe me. I could seriously have hurt you with all my impressive Amity taught fighting skills."

"Get out of here." He tries to shrug her off but she holds on. "Stop rubbing your Amity tripe on me."

They make it back to where he's staying and he throws the door open, grabbing his bag of stuff sitting by the bed. She continues to hang off him when they take the small walk back to hers and in a way, he kind of liked it. It was like she was afraid to let him go and wanted to be as close to him as possible; like he was going to make a hasty escape – he seriously wouldn't of course. But to him, that's what the actions meant.

She had also managed to talk the whole way, about what he was entirely unsure and he just hoped he wouldn't have to acknowledge or repeat anything.

Eric whacks the shower to icy cold, taking sharp intakes of breath when he steps in, but being so hot all day it was an instant relief. What he wasn't prepared for when he steps out and throwing just his boxers on, is her busy in her small kitchen. She turns slightly, her eyes dropping down him, and it was the exact reaction he was looking for as she tries to divert her eyes.

"Here." Abbey scrabbles for the glasses of wine she's poured and passes it to him, taking a long gulp of hers. She continues to watch him as he collapses on her small couch and eventually snakes her way over to him, placing herself clumsily next to him. "You hungry?"

Eric rumbles a small noise from his throat before replying. "Nah. Tired." He was a little but he couldn't be bothered.

"I've been meaning to ask-" She dips her fingers in her wine and skims it across the top of her glass. "When do you plan on going back to Dauntless?"

"When things are settled here."

"So that's soon, right?" Her tone echoes disappointment. "And then what? Do you ever plan on coming back?"

"Usually no," Eric says sharply, noting the way she nods to herself, her lips pursing together. "Usually there is no reason for me to come back unless there is some sort of unrest. But, as it so happens, I may have other business here."

"I want you to come back."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"Don't get me wrong-" She shuffles a little closer. "I know how hard it is for two people of two different factions to have a relationship. And considering you're a Leader, it triples that by ten…"

"You mean multiplies…" He rolls his eyes.

"Whatever."

Eric puts his hand on her leg. If anything it was to silence her dribble. "Is that what you want?" She appears doe-eyed, suddenly not prepared for the low tone and impressive way he's caught on to her unsubtle hints. "You want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Don't play dumb, Eric. I knew you would never say it, so I have to. Don't tell me that it's not what you want either." Abbey places her glass to one side, playing with her fingers nervously. "I just wanted to know… that while you were gone… that you wouldn't be with someone else…"

Eric hums to himself, putting his glass down too, grinning at the way she's suddenly grown ridged. "I think that I could be persuaded." His eyes flash down to his lap and a wry smile forms on her lips. She climbs over him, sitting on top of him, knees either side as he sits back casually looking up at her.

"If you wanted me to sing, you could have just asked." She flirts at the same time her arms rope around his neck.

"There's far better things that we could be doing." Eric notices the way she blushes a little, biting at her lip. "Come here." He flicks his head and she leans forward, a little confused. When he moves to whisper in her ear, she pulls away, snuffling a laugh.

"What? … Don't do something stupid." Abbey tilts her head, speaking in a dulcet tone that's almost complaining.

"No, I just want to tell you something…" She leans forward but mumbles to herself, something along the lines of 'You're so lying right now,' and it kills the seriousness of his actions and he laughs, unable to continue his prank.

"I knew it!" She whacks him, trying to scrabble away and off his lap but he keeps her locked. "You are just as bad as me. I damn well knew that you were going to do something." Abbey stops trying to get away and caves, leaning forward against him and resting her head on his shoulder, her nose nuzzled against the skin of his neck.

Her fluttery breaths sliver across his bare chest and there's a long, almost suspended tranquility while they stay like this.

"Eric?" She says in a tone that's wrapped in all significance. He hums, a slightly sleepy feeling shadowing over him in this warm and smothered position. "You were right."

He raises his eyebrows; to which she can't see, his eyes daring to close. "About what?" Usually, he would have a witty reply, but right now he felt utterly sedated.

"Nothing's changed." When she sits back, he frowns, not in distaste but in confusion.

"I do still love you."

Even if he felt uncomfortable, he will not push her away, not give her any reason to doubt him or herself. Instead, he pulls her towards him, one vast hand casing almost the entirety of her shoulder, his thumb digging into her delicate neck, as he kisses her.

Probably his first ever initiated kiss towards her.

This time it's not rough or frantic, but warming, the taste of sweet wine in passing. She sighs against him before she resettles her head back on his shoulder. They are both exhausted from a seemingly hectic and pivoting day that neither had expected. – Eric, a little.

"Let's go to bed," Eric whispers into the quiet as she hums, and he's glad to find that they were on the same level.

Like usual, the militant soldier raises its ugly head and he stands, her still balled against him while he strolls the way into the bedroom, ungracefully depositing them both on the bed with a tumble. They don't readjust, just stay limbed together messily and at an angle on their sides.

Eric waits for her to fall asleep first, he always liked to be aware of the levels of consciousness when he was in a room. But his own consciousness has seemed to falter when he suddenly realizes why she fell asleep so fast. For the first time in his life, he's dotingly massaged her back without even realizing, the entire time.

A sweeping sense of displeasure forms within, he's gone soft, too easily leashed, but mainly he was afraid for Abbey. People wanted to hurt him - kill him even. But in all reality his enemies never could, whether that be the factionless or someone else closer to home. Eric had now given them other means to get to him.

He's ultimately passed that baggage to Abbey, and what makes it worse is that she doesn't even realize…

As he peers down at her sleeping form in the blue light, all he imagines is her dreaming about silly fucking flowers, perhaps shitty little trees - completely none the wiser. He had no intentions of ever changing that. But the simple fact is, is that it would change, whether he liked it or not. Selfishly, he wasn't going to give her up and he was pretty sure she would be as adamant as him.

Eric would quite simply die before he'd let anything happen to her… Which was also expected of him in his job back at Dauntless…

The thoughts stop dead as Abbey shuffles closer, nuzzling into the cover of the bed and throwing a leg back over him in her sleep. He could forget everything for now, for at this moment in time - This was enough.

He reminds himself for the second time in one week how he still doesn't believe in fate. … And the sentence has only become to feel a lot less meaningless.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, another, hot and glorious day at Amity…" Abbey swerves through the doorway already dressed, some blue looking child's dress with weird white lace over the shoulders while she disastrously juggles two hot cups of coffee in each of her hands. One spills slightly on the floor. "Shit…"

Eric can't help but laugh as she stupidly wears some weird wicker hat on her head to add to the full effect. "What the fuck is that?"

"It's my hat for when it's sunny and I don't want to burn. Dip. Shit. Don't mock my favorite possession."

"It's awful. Get rid of it." Eric sits up to the head of the bed. They slept with no sheets and he still doesn't cover himself in them. In fact, he has barely moved from the bed, he was enjoying the time here.

"I don't like your black, Dauntless, weird, restrictive uniform, but I don't say anything…" She tries to pass him the cup and he waits till her fingers begin to burn on the edge with a one-sided smirk on his face. "Take the cup!" She tucks one leg underneath as she sits next to him, sipping on her own. "For your information, I'm heading to the fields today. I've got some things I need to do. That's why I'm wearing my hat. Smart ass."

"What fields? Why do you need to go into the fields? Is someone going with you?"

"Relax, I do it all the time. When we get certain orders we have to see to them. But also, we have a huge sunflower patch and its great!"

"You make me sick." Her coffee tastes vile but he doesn't say anything. "It's not a good idea anyway, I'd rather you wouldn't."

"I survived three years without you. It won't be any different from all the other times," Abbey says, putting her coffee down on the bedside table next to him and shuffles on her knees, gradually sitting on top of him again. "It's okay, you can say you are afraid." Her index finger pulls on his bottom lip and he allows her.

"I'm not afraid. There's trouble with the factionless and the fields are very open. Can't you leave it for someone else?" He has a hard time keeping focus as their skin touches.

"You and I both have jobs to do, Eric. I can't not do mine because you say so, because you are afraid." She smiles.

Eric discards his own cup and places his hands on her hips, pulling her tightly against him. "Keep saying that and you'll find yourself in trouble."

"I'm terrified…" She says while smirking at him.

Eric pulls her forward as her hands slide down his chest, gliding across his ab's, reaching the bottom of his boxers where she runs along the band. "Keep doing that and you'll also find trouble."

"I'm really asking for it now." Her hat knocks his forehead, and in one swift movement, he throws it from the top of her head. "Hey!" However, she doesn't have time to protest further as he grabs a fistful of her hair and kisses her. When she shudders, Eric pushes her off his lap and continues to do so till he can climb on top of her, making a point of pushing his hips like deadweight against her while she tries to laugh it off. But his eyes have clouded over with utter lust, this was a position he'd wanted her in since he'd seen her for the first time back at Dauntless.

"Eric," she gasps as his mouth and tongue work against her neck, leaving wet trails in their wake. And without much self-control on his part, his hips grind against hers. He can feel the heels of her feet run down his thighs and the muscles in her tanned legs as she tries to pull him closer.

"You like that, Ab's?" he coyly asks, lifting himself away to look at her flush face. She nods, bravely reaching for him again. This time her hands travel lower as he braces himself on his elbows, watching their intended destination. "And what are you planning to do when you get there?" He grins back at her and watches as her lips begin to tug slightly upwards.

"For an ex-Erudite, you're stupid." She jams her hands in his boxers roughly, giggling at his flinching reaction, then stopping as she finds the tip of his erection and sliding her hands timidly over it till she's fully gripped him.

"Big mistake," he hisses, pulling her up to sit and yanking at the bottom of her dress.

"Don't rip it!" she squeals out, but he doesn't give a shit. Wrenching it roughly over her head and watching the way her hair wisps in every direction, he lobs it somewhere in the room. She's not wearing a bra…

Eric's mouth finds the soft skin of her breast, licking carefully and watching the way she squirms underneath him. "Hold still," he tells her, trying not to laugh at her efforts. He trails down her stomach, reaching the flimsy strap of what she called 'underwear' and slowly hooks his fingers underneath, pulling it down her legs gradually.

"How can I hold still when you insist on moving so slowly?"

For that he parts her thighs and puts his mouth against her, flicking his tongue against her clit. He had every intention to fuck her right now. He couldn't wait any longer and he could taste that she was already ready for him.

While she groaned out above him, his own personal ache was fit to burst. So, when he comes up for air, he begins ridding of the restricting boxers while she eagerly watches him, biting her lip as his erection springs loose and he strokes himself a few times.

Abbey waits in anticipation, staring wide eyed at the scene unfolding in front of her. All man. All muscle. And extremely turned on. Her own body was laid out completely exposed to him and the thought makes her blush for a split second.

"I can't wait any longer, Abbey."

Clambering back on top of her, he guides himself to her entrance, making sure to keep her eye contact. She fleetingly runs her fingers over his hair, pulling him forwards and kissing him.

At the same time, he pushes into her.

She licks his lip in complete ecstasy at the sensation, enjoying the wet, slippery feeling forming between them. Eric becomes faster, at one point leaning on his elbow for a better position and holding her leg. But she meets him thrust for thrust.

Sweat beads on his head. He doesn't want to admit it - but he so wants to fucking come right now. Abbey must sense it as her hands slip between his and pull them in to touch her. Suddenly growing ridged, she lustfully emits a caught sound in her throat, then sighing higher and higher and louder every time he pushed back into her with much effort on his part. "Eric…"

Shit.

Abbey saying his name was enough, and as her nails dig into his back and walls tighten and spasm, he comes, hard, spilling inside of her and crumbling towards her. "Fuck…" She bites his shoulder and it's hard enough to bruise but he likes it.

Still inside her, he rubs his sweaty forehead against an arm and she's looking relatively pleased underneath him. "That was a lot like making lurve…" she whispers mockingly.

"Thought I'd better start off at entry level as you were so terrified. Give you time to adjust or whatever a true gentleman is supposed to say."

"I had high expectations of the cruel and cold Dauntless Leader…" She leans up to whisper in his ear, "Fantasies, even."

He couldn't give a shit about where she had heard such rumors. Eric isn't quite done with her just yet and is more interested in what, exactly, her fantasies consisted off, and what she had been doing about them. "Well, you can tell me all about it while you're on your knees. You better change your sheets later."

"So, this is the perimeter of Amity," Eric speaks expressively to Johanna over an old-fashioned unrolled map spread across her desk. - He's in a fucking good mood.

"Yes. There are also fields beyond the wall that are used every day but that's mutual ground."

"I want you to mark every spot of any disturbances however insignificant they may seem that have taken place recently. Look for a point of activity that may be unseen from us, might be how they come and go without being noticed." Eric's finger traces the roads. He also can't help the way he calculates exactly what field Abbey has gone to today. He's about to say something else but is interrupted by clumping boots up the stairs.

"Sir, it's Max." And Eric wonders why he didn't ring him directly, then remembers his replacement phone and how Max would still have the water-drenched phone number from before. No wonder he's been at peace for a few days.

The young Dauntless passes him the overly bulky handset. "Max."

"How's Amity?"

"As you would expect."

"I've been in contact with Jeanine," Max says gruffly, and Eric sighs.

"Yes? And?"

"There's been some hear-say. Words got around that you've been at Amity and she's afraid of an attack at Erudite. They're more important apparently."

"I can't be in two places at once. An attack is inevitable at Amity, it would be unwise to for me to leave just yet."

"I think you may need to take a trip to Erudite to explain this to Jeanine yourself as my voice is falling on deaf ears. I understand the controversy of Dauntless being situated there at Amity so long, but then again, if we didn't, we wouldn't be doing our job…" Max sounds torn just from the reluctant way he talks. Eric thinks for a second he's possibly looking for some sort advice or anticipating Eric's return to Dauntless. Perhaps he was just airing random thoughts and ranting whatever was on his mind.

"You got that fucking right. We can't seem to win at the minute."

"Fine. Well, you send an email to Jeanine so she knows we've spoken. I'll call someone else to pay a trip to Erudite and hopefully that'll do - I can tell you won't be back for a while. But you do realize, the moment we do that, Candor and Abnegation are going to be pissing themselves and asking for the same." While Max is talking Eric strolls over to the window, peering out across the land viewable from here. There's Amity folk ambling past, groups of Dauntless roaming in between. Then he spots the stupid wicker hat in the crowd. "You even listening?"

"Yeah, something's come up."

"Any success on the other job?" Eric's bite on his shoulder suddenly throbs and he runs a hand across it - that woman can bite hard. He watches as Abbey chats to the girl with glasses next to her, baskets in their hands with huge bunches of wild flowers he's never seen before.

"You could say that."

"Good. But just don't let it get in the way. There are bigger things at stake." Abbey gets stopped by a group of Dauntless and they hit the hat off of her head – that fucking hat.

"I've got to go." He hangs up before Max can answer and as Eric leaves, Johanna walks over to the window curiously, watching as Eric strides out into the chaos that usually follows Abbey around and she sighs, shaking her head.

Abbey grabs the bunch of flowers tightly out of the basket, whacking one of the Dauntless round the face with it as petals and leaves sprawl out around them. The next minute she's dragged away steadily and spun, being shaken to her senses. "What the hell are you doing?" Eric asks her, looking completely furious.

"They stroll around like the own the place!"

Eric turns his head to the Dauntless. "I want reports now. And I want to know why you find it's acceptable to behave in such a way within a place that has welcomed you so amicably."

"She was asking for it…" one of them mumbles as Eric turns. That was all that was needed and Abbey folds her arms, eyebrows raised with a cruel smile on her face as she watches Eric close the distance between his men.

"I guess you wouldn't mind helping out with the garbage disposal considering you have enough time to push the little Amity's around?" To make his point extremely clearer, he takes another step forward. "If I hear of one more situation like this, I will personally see to it that I deal with you in the same manner as I do with my other unruly initiates. I can break you as quickly as I made you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" they call at the same time.

"Now get back to work!" He gives Abbey an expressionless look. "You-"

"Oh, don't start. I had that handled anyway. They'll think again before-."

"Oh yes, that's right, because hitting them round the face with petal power is really going to stop them." Eric grabs her by the arm and heads back towards the shadow of the barn. Johanna waits just inside the doorway.

"Abbey…" she greets. "I see you still manage to shock me. I wouldn't worry Eric, it's not the first time Abbey's shown ferocity before." Her features suddenly become stern. "We don't act irrationally. We are a faction of peace," Johanna tells her and Eric scoffs, still keeping Abbey locked in his grip. "If there is trouble you should have just reported it."

"Nothing ever happens when we do, you know that!"

"Maybe there's a little bit of Dauntless in you, Abbey?" Eric chucks out playfully. He meant in more ways than one.

Abbey pulls away from him, embarrassed. "I like standing up for my rights, Eric…"

Johanna's smiling to herself watching the two stand-off, but it's not horribly, it's complete bicker. "I heard you have broken off your engagement?"

Abbey composes herself, entwining her fingers together in front of her. "He broke it off with me."

"Coincidental with Eric suddenly reappearing, isn't it?" Johanna's still smiling, her frog-like face stretched wide and frankly irritating. Eric makes sure he frowns at her.

"Yes, well, things happen at weird times…" Abbey pulls the poorest excuse she could find. "If you don't mind, I now have to recollect my order and I'm already running behind." She dusts off her dress, turning with a sense of purpose and Eric hides his smile under a hand with his head down.

"Remember violence is not the answer, Ab's!" he calls out, checking out her ass as she walks away. She just gives him a quick death glare.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Eric…" Johanna says after a long moment and now that Abbey's out of earshot. "You've possibly ruined her chance of ever running a normal life at Amity, you know that?"

"Leave it out, woman."

"I hope you have intentions on marrying that girl. That's all I ask." Once again, they are stood side by side, not looking at each other. Something that's been happening more than Eric would like.

"What's it to you anyway?" His slate eyes still watch after the girl that's scarred his entire being.

"I look out for my people. She is my people. You broke off her engagement and I hope you have all the right intentions on fixing it. I don't care for your history with Dauntless and your extremely rude and obnoxious behavior with me or anyone else, I just don't want your actions to be impulsive and then leave her here for me to pick up the pieces. Her reputation will be dashed under your limelight."

Eric finally turns his head while placing his hands behind his back, glaring at Johanna. "Do you honestly think that's what I would do?" he snipes horribly, almost spitting the words. "Fuck up her life and leave?"

"I actually wouldn't put it past you." Johanna doesn't waver, even if her heart had skipped a beat in fear. But she wanted her thoughts outed to him. At least push him to answer honestly, which only ever seemed to be when he was angry with her. "I promise I won't say any more. But please… just do the right thing…" Johanna brings herself to walk away, shaking her head, lips pressed together firmly and inwardly hoping that he'd taken some form of resolve from her words.

Eric's left awfully stuck in the doorway.

Marry Abbey?

Now that was whole new other subject…

#crush #chapter 5 #entry level #eric coulter #divergent #insurgent #eric and abbey #jai courtney #eric divergent fanfiction #fanfiction #eric #beautifulramblingbrains

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