#i've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time and i buried the important part under a goofy villain with formatted dialogue

[scarletssienna]

I'll Never Let You Go

Summary - Your fights with Wanda were unusual, but often recently. Misunderstanding was bound to happen. When things with Wanda get too difficult you seek comfort in someone else's embrace. 5k word count

Warnings - Hurt-Comfort, angst, mommy Wanda, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamics, mean Wanda, grinding, pinning, Natasha comforting, fighting, face-slapping, jealousy, talk of threesome, talks of consent

AN - Part two of the mini-series. Part one here. Surprisingly no real smut in this chapter. Don’t worry, you’ll get your fill-in the next one. Some insight into their fighting as well as what happens after R left ;)) The next chapter will probably be the last in this series! Feel free to hit me up in my asks with thoughts/ideas/requests though! :))

18+, minors + men dni

Two weeks ago

“Detka. I have had enough.” Wanda exclaimed as she angrily tossed the sponge into the sink, turning to you with wide eyes. Her jaw was slack as she looked at you, her eyebrow raised and one hand on her hip as she expected you to understand what was bothering her. You dropped your spoon back into your cereal bowl, looking quite confused at the sudden anger, choking down your bite of frosted flakes. Before you could ask what was wrong, she decided to tell you. “You have been sitting there, chomping loudly enough for the entire neighborhood to hear you eat that for the past what?! 20 minutes?!” She exclaimed in frustration as she dried her hands on her robe, bringing her hands to hold her forehead in pain, grumbling under her breath. You knew it wasn't about the cereal. Her head had been killing her for the past few days. She had just been covering up the sickness with anger. She pressed her palms to her eyes, holding them firmly.

“I’m sorry Wands,” you said as you stood up, dumping the rest of the cereal down the drain as you took over the job of washing the dishes. When you finished the dishes she was still standing there, leaning up against the counter, her head buried in her hands. You walked over cautiously as you gently placed your hands on her hips, sliding them up slowly to her waist. You leaned closer and kissed her temple. “Maybe you should take a break from work?” You suggested tenderly as you rubbed her sides softly. “You've been working so hard lately and deserve a break. I can stay home with you - run you a bath and-” 

“I should take a break from work?” She interrupted you with a scoff. She pulled her hands away from her eyes and put them on your wrists. “Yeah, suddenly you're the one to talk about when to take a break when I've been telling you to for the past like,” she grumbled not knowing exactly how long the fight was as it was truly pointless. “Forever.” she pushed your hands off her waist and stepped away. “Don't touch me, I'm gross and haven't showered.” She said as she walked towards the cupboard, grabbing a glass of water. You rolled your eyes as you watched her move around the kitchen aimlessly. She never knew how to accept comfort when she wasn't feeling good. She didn't know how to let herself just be taken care of. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled under your breath as you went to get your shoes and jacket on to leave for work. You walked into the kitchen again to tell her you were leaving. She hadn’t expected you to come back in because she was leaning face forward on the counter this time, her head buried in her arms as she mumbled in pain. “I won’t be home until late tonight.” You stated, causing her to startle and stand straight up. “Don't wait up,” you told her before contemplating walking over. You always kissed her goodbye, but it didn’t seem like she wanted that today. 

She rolled her eyes at you saying you wouldn't be home until late again tonight. It had been like this for the past 3 weeks. You would either plan on being out late or accidentally get her hopes up by saying you would be home but leaving her to sit alone at the dinner table with the meal she prepared for the both of you. She had truly grown to just expect it at this point. She walked over and grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling you into a fast kiss before retreating upstairs. Although she was upset she always made sure to kiss you goodbye. She feared that one day she wouldn't and you would die or something gruesome and she just couldn't risk her chances. 

With the deadlines for the end of the year approaching you were at work much too often lately. Not that she was any better to be fair. It seemed anytime one of you was home the other would be off working. It wasn’t ideal and you felt guilty about being gone so often. It would be better in a few weeks.

That night you were surely tied up in your office,  paperwork surrounding you in scattered piles. You rubbed your forehead and looked over one of the files on your desk, tapping your pen on the desk. You glanced up at the time, grumbling as you saw it was nearly midnight and you were nowhere near done for the night. When you heard a knock on the door you startled at the sound. Everyone had long left the office and you and the security guard were the only ones that usually remained at this hour. When you looked up, your eyes met with a familiar redhead. Natasha smiled at you before biting her bottom lip softly. 

“I figured I’d find you here still.” She licked her lips and shoved a hand in her pocket. “Can I come in?” She asked with a little chuckle and smirk on her face. 

“Yeah for sure!” You said, just happy to see anyone at this point in the night. You shut the file in front of you and pushed your chair back slightly. You pushed your glasses off your face, resting them on the top of your head as you looked up at the girl who wandered over to your desk. “What are you doing here?” You asked as you looked up at her. She stood on your side of the desk in front of you, leaning slightly against the desk. 

“Oh, you know. I can never seem to remember everything I need when I leave. Makes me come back at odd times.” She said with a laugh as she set her file on top of your pile of stuff. You giggled and bit your bottom lip slightly, sighing at how late it was. You brought a hand to your mouth as you covered up a yawn. “Boring you already huh?” She teased and reached out, taking your glasses off your head and setting them on the desk. Her hand brushed your cheek softly before sighing and leaning back a little further on the desk, her hands bracing her on either side of her body. You blushed a little at the action and quickly turned your face away, looking towards your desktop as you typed a few more things into your document. “You know, you should be working less. These long hours aren’t good for a pretty girl like you.” She said as she looked into your eyes. You avoided eye contact and scoffed a little.

“You sound like Wanda.” You murmured, glancing up at her with a little smile before quickly looking away. 

“Oh, do I now?” She asked with a smirk as her hand reached out, spinning your chair so that you were facing her again. “Sounds like the little witch may be right then.” She stated, causing you to roll your eyes, a tiny grin on your face. 

“Be nice.” You warned. There was something about Natasha that drew you in. You could never go for it though. You loved Wanda more than anything. It would be stupid to do anything to put that in jeopardy. Unfortunately, your girlfriend seemed to pick up on it slightly. And even more unfortunately Natasha did as well. And she wasn’t good about helping negate those feelings. She reached down and pulled your chair closer to her as she leaned down. 

“Yeah?” She grinned. “Or what?” She asked as she raised her eyebrow slightly. Her hand reached underneath your chin. “You’ll spank me?” She teased, knowing you could never. Your breath hitched in your throat slightly and your face turned a bright red as you pushed your chair back, quickly standing up to put some space between you. She got the hint and backed off slightly, reaching for her folder. “Let me take you home at least?” She offered, walking around to the other side of the desk. “Being here too long is…dreary.” She said with a furrowed brow and a tone of dramatics. You nodded and rubbed your face before collecting a few files to bring home. You liked to walk to work and back. You found it peaceful and it wasn’t all that far. It was a little too late tonight to be walking alone so you agreed.

“Fine, but you keep your hands to yourself and the teasing to a minimum.” You warned and pointed a finger at her before collecting your bag and jacket. She just smiled and walked with you to her car. The drive home was fairly quiet. There was little small talk every once and a while but it was a short drive and it wasn’t long until you were home. You said goodbye before going inside. You were always quiet with the lock when you got home, not sure where Wanda would end up for the night. You locked the door behind you and discarded your jacket and bag, hanging them in the closet by the front door. As you crept into the room you smiled as you saw Wanda curled up on the couch, snuggled up under a blanket, a random sitcom playing on the TV. It was all ignored though as she slept through it. You walked over and reached for the TV remote, flipping the TV remote off. As silence filled the air you sighed, watching her so peacefully. You leaned down kissing her forehead before carefully picking her off the couch. She stirred and her eyes opened slightly, her bright but tired green eyes looking up into yours. 

“Detka.” She murmured as she wrapped her arms around you, assisting in the carrying to make it easier as she nuzzled her head on your shoulder. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” You whispered with a smile, leaning down to kiss her softly as you paused on your walk. She hummed into the kiss. 

“Bed.” She whispered and poked your nose with a smile before closing her eyes again. You laid her on her side of the bed, a blush covering your face that was luckily hidden by the darkness of the room. You covered her up and kissed her forehead. She held onto your arms when you attempted to walk away, a confused look forming on her face. 

“I have to get ready for bed, silly.” You whispered and she sighed, slowly letting go to let you get ready. She stole your pillow, pulling it between her arms tightly as she turned onto her side. You smiled at the sight and quickly moved into the bathroom, getting ready for bed as you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be in bed with Wanda. When headlights lit up your window Wanda sat up slightly. She frowned when she saw Natasha’s car peeling out of the driveway and driving down the street. Why she took so long to leave was unknown but all it left was this pit of self-consciousness in Wanda’s stomach. She has quickly and wrongfully assumed you were out so late because you were with her. When you came back to bed you crawled in bed next to her, scooting up and pressing your body against hers from behind. You wrapped your arms around her closely and rested your head on her pillow.

“May I have my pillow back, darling?” You asked gently as you rubbed up and down her side softly. She shook her head, squeezing it tighter to her chest. You let out a tired chuckle when she shook her head and pulled her closer, kissing her neck. “I guess that just means I’m going to have to be closer to you tonight huh?” You teased, referring to the fact that the two of you would be sharing a pillow. She let out a hum as an approving response before closing her eyes. You placed one more kiss on her neck before closing your eyes as well. You fell asleep, holding the girl close to you. Unable to sleep, Wanda's quiet tears were muffled into your pillow. She couldn’t understand why you would be out with Natasha so late, again, instead of being home with her. She felt as if it was her fault and she grew to become extremely self-conscious about it.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next morning Wanda woke up upset. She just snuggled closer to you as she waited for you to wake up. Typically she would get out of bed and head to work early but this morning she needed the extra time with you. When you woke up you were surprised to see Wanda awake, lying on your chest, her fingertips tracing patterns on your stomach. 

“Good morning.” You whispered as you lifted your head slightly to kiss the top of hers. Instead of continuing with the customary response Wanda decided to jump right in. 

“You’re always out with Natasha.” She complained, not even looking up at you. You sighed, quickly catching the mood she was in. 

“Uh,” you started, confused about where the sudden accusations came from. You went with it anyway. “I mean sometimes, yeah? But I’m also working all the time lately I mean I don’t have the time to be out with her.” You said as your forehead wrinkled in confusion. You brought your hand up to her hair running your fingers through it carefully before massaging her scalp. She grumbled and sat up, turning to look at you. 

“Notice how neither one of those things is being with me?” She asked as she pushed your hand away and sat up. You wanted to giggle at how dramatic she was being but you were lucky you didn’t as you realized she was genuinely upset. 

“Wands, what’s up?” You asked as you propped yourself up with your elbows. She grumbled and rolled her eyes at your question, assuming why she was upset was blatantly obvious. She moved and straddled your lap. You automatically reached up to put your hands on her thighs but she swatted them away and instead held them by your sides.

“She’s like, obsessed with you or something.” She complained as she pressed your wrists to the bed, silently telling you to keep them there as she pulled her hands away and moved them to your stomach, pushing your shirt up. You got the hint and kept them still but your face wriggled into a frown. 

“Come on she’s not obsessed with me.” You said, looking away as you thought back to last night. It was purely situational and she had just been in the area. Remembering the teasing and little bits of flirting Natasha had put out there, maybe you needed to reconsider that idea slightly, and maybe you needed to leave that part out to Wanda. The girl above you took it into her own hands though and with a raise of her hand, her eyes glowed red. When you looked back at her and noticed her you quickly reached up, grabbing her hands. “Wanda!” You frowned, now upset. “Stop using your powers on me.” It was your turn to complain now but she ignored you. Her eyes turned back to normal and she ground her hips against you, pinning your wrists back to the bed, now above your head. 

“The little witch may be right. You are working too much.” She scoffed as she began reciting some of the words from last night. “Or what? You’ll spank me?” She grumbled repeating the line as her hips ground against you, suppressing a moan. “Keep your hands to yourself.” She squeezed your wrists tighter. “Why?” She asked, stopping her movements as she looked into your eyes and raised her eyebrow. “Does she not keep her hands to herself?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes at what she was doing. 

“Wanda get off me I’m not in the mood.” You said firmly and seriously as you looked up into her eyes. She let go of your wrists with a grumble and moved to sit next to you. “Nothing happened. And nothing is going to happen.” You said as you stood up, rubbing your wrists. “Ever.” You said before disappearing off into the bathroom, leaving her on the bed alone. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Now

Running away was your specialty. Anything that got too hard or scary, you ran. The unknown was big. How were you supposed to act and behave if you didn't know what would come next? You could handle the unknown when you felt secure with Wanda. She always seemed to know what to do. Her security pulled you in. It all had disappeared lately and you were in search of it once again. Tearful, you knocked on Natashas' door harshly. As you waited for her to answer you grew self-conscious. Suddenly aware that you were standing outside her door, dressed in Wanda's shorts and hoodie, not wearing a bra. Remembering last night you assumed there were probably marks on your visible body as well. You crossed your arms, turning a bright shade of red when Natasha opened the door. The sun was just beginning to creep above the horizon which made her face glow. 

“Hey…?” You spoke softly and your voice cracked as tears began to fall once again as you saw the confusion on Natashas' face turn to concern. She quickly pulled you inside and made fast work of trying to comfort you. 

“Detka…what's wrong?” she spoke gently, the nickname falling all too easily off her tongue. Instead of saying anything you practically fell into her embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around her as your head tucked down and rested beneath her chin, tears falling rapidly as you sobbed. Seeing your state a ping hit Natashas' chest as she suddenly got nervous. “Did she hurt you?” There was hesitation in her voice yet she was firm in finding out the answer. You gasped at her question, the idea of Wanda ever even laying a hand on you non-consensually, was unfathomable to you. Shaking your head quickly she sighed a breath of relief as she shut the door, gently guiding you inside. You clung to her tightly and she awkwardly moved the two of you to her couch. She sat down before pulling you gently next to her. You didn't take much prompting as you practically sat on her, clinging tightly. She began to rub your back up and down in an attempt to quiet your sobs. While they slowed they never ceased completely. Her hand slid gently under your shirt and rested on your bare back, trying to continue the movements when you stopped her. 

“No.” You murmured as you lifted your head for a second looking into her eyes. You reached behind your back, placing her hand back on top of your shirt. You wiped the tears from your face with open palms and sniffled before laying your head back down. She got the hint and continued her slow patterns up and down as you calmed down. When your sobs calmed and turned into quiet sniffling she finally attempted to ask what was wrong. 

“Detka…” she tried again, and you grumbled snuggling closer. 

“Don't call me that.” You said firmly and pulled your phone out, declining a call from work as you set your phone on the coffee table next to you. You sniffled and buried your head in the crook of her neck, closing your eyes. Natasha, at a loss of what to do let you stay in that position. When she felt you drift off to sleep she smiled a little at the sight and pulled you closer. Just after you fell asleep your phone began to ring, Wanda. Asleep, you had no idea. Natasha had to decide, she took a second. She hesitated as she reached over to the coffee table. When she saw who was calling her eyes flickered back and forth between you and the phone. She slowly set the phone upside down, ignoring the call. Unbenounced to you Wanda was growing increasingly worried and anxious at you being gone. She had taken up pacing back and forth between the living room, her phone held to her ear as she dialed your number repeatedly. After the tenth call with still no response she had an idea of where you had been. Despite how she seemed, she wasn't angry. She was scared, scared something had happened to you. But also confused. What had she done? Above all the familiar feeling of self-consciousness grew in her chest. Ignoring everything in the house she tore through to the door. As she got closer to Natasha’s house her concern grew, her power setting off nearby car alarms. 

When the phone calls ceased and the lights flickered in the house Natasha knew Wanda was nearby, and upset. The door flung open, breaking the hinges with a loud bang. You startled awake at the loud noise, a loud gasp leaving your lips. In a panic you sat up, your attention immediately drawn to the front door, Wanda, standing in the doorway. 

“What is going on here?” She demanded firmly as she stalked over to the two of you on the couch, unnecessarily close. This wasn’t Wanda anymore. This was Mommy. Her tone was demanding and firm, but it had a sweet sultry tone that dripped as she spoke. You’d always noticed the more worked up Wanda got, the more her accent came through. This was surely one of those times. When neither of you answered fast enough to her liking she asked again. “I asked a question.” She reached out her hand. You had expected her to touch you, to grab your chin. Instead, she reached towards Natasha. Her fingers gently reached under her chin, lifting it slightly as she made deep eye contact with the other girl.

“She came here this morning!” Natasha stuttered quickly. “She just fell asleep!” She explained with an urgency and demeanor you had never seen from her before. You watched the sight before you, surprisingly curious as you tugged your bottom lip into your mouth. Wanda’s hand raised from off her chin before delivering a slap to Natasha’s cheek. Natasha yelped at the hit, causing you to flinch. You could feel the tension as the two of them interacted. Wanda’s hand gently rubbed and soothed where she had just hit as Natasha leaned into her touch, her legs pressing together in anticipation. The sight in front of you made you squirm. You physically felt your breath hitch in your chest when Wanda leaned forward and kissed Natasha. There was no jealousy behind your eyes as you watched the two of them, their kiss becoming more heated by the second. You squirmed next to them, your legs pressing together as you gnawed on your bottom lip, waiting impatiently in anticipation for your turn. When Wanda finally pulled away her breath heaved slightly as she caught her breath. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Wanda said as she stood up and smoothed out her shirt. “Natasha, you are going to go to your room and wait for us in bed. We are going to have a little chat then join you up there. Okay?” She said it in a tone that sounded as if she was asking but she wasn’t. Natasha just nodded and glanced at you before carefully standing and quietly heading to her room. When she left you looked up at Wanda with wide innocent eyes. 

“Mine.” You mumbled as you grabbed Wanda’s hand, tugging her down into a passionate kiss. She straddled your lap happily as she kissed you back, her tongue wasting no time as it brushed against your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You happily obliged, allowing her tongue to take control. “Mine.” You mumbled again, into the kiss this time as your hands reached around her waist, squeezing her sides lightly. 

“Yes, all yours Detka.” She said as she slowly pulled away from the kiss. She dragged her finger across your jaw, tracing her fingers across your face. It was as if she was trying to memorize it. As if you would disappear in her fingers at any second. Her breath grew shaky as tears brimmed her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She took a second, closing her eyes for a second before opening them, a fresh tear falling slowly but beautifully down her cheek. “You left this morning.” She said in a whisper, any louder, she feared would break her. “Why?” In the second part, she spoke even softer. Each word felt like a chore as it left her body. You felt your blood rushing in your ears, just as it always did when you got anxious or scared. Your hands reached up gently holding her face. Your thumbs brushed across her cheeks, wiping away the tear that had fallen as you kissed her cheekbone tenderly. 

Your jaw shook as you opened your mouth to speak. “I left before you could.” You said, in a level just above a whisper. “I left before you could remember how mad we were.” You paused, sucking in a quick breath, the noise in your ears getting louder. “How mad you were.” You admitted quietly, the guilt and setting in for what you had done. Wanda frowned, her eyebrows crinkling ever so slightly twisting into an even sadder expression.

“You think I’m going to leave you?” She asked as her fingertips paused on your face. “Detka I would never.” She assured. “I’m not mad at you.” She smiled sadly. “I mean, I have been mad.” She admitted carefully. “But only because I’m scared.” She looked away, breaking eye contact for the first time since the conversation started. She pulled her hands away to wipe her face. “Scared you’re going to leave me. For her.” Wanda said quietly as she glanced at the stairs and then back to you. You couldn’t shake your head quick enough. 

“No!” You exclaimed quickly, a little louder than either of you had expected, causing a sad giggle. “Wanda no, no, never. I love you so much. I just.” You stuttered out of shock. “Absolutely not.” You said as you brought your hands back to her face, turning it towards you. “Wanda, you are the love of my life. I can never even imagine leaving you for any reason, let alone another woman. I don’t even want to imagine it!” You sniffled before leaning closer and resting your forehead against hers. 

“I love you too.” She whispered before kissing you. It was a tender kiss, sweet, and simple. She pulled away for a second and chuckled breathily as she wiped your tears away. “Stop crying and kiss me Detka.” She whispered with a little smile before kissing you again, more passionately this time. 

After several minutes of kissing you remembered to Natasha upstairs. You paused, pulling away and pressing a finger to Wanda’s lips. 

“Natasha?” You whispered with a question in your voice about what was going to happen in that situation. Wanda seemed to have an idea. Her hands snaked under your sweatshirt slowly and she kissed the tip of your finger. 

“I think it would be good to get the temptation out of the way.” She admitted, her hands rubbing your sides as they moved upward. “I also think it would be good for me to gain a little control in that whole situation.” She said, a small smile coming across her lips. “How do you feel about that?” She asked it was a genuine question and she was looking for your honest response.

“I like that idea.” You said as a dark blush crept across your cheeks. Wanda hummed happily when she heard your response. 

“I expect you to use your safe word if anything crosses any lines. Okay?” She said firmly as her fingers stopped beneath your bra, she needed you focused for the rest of the conversation. You nodded quickly at her instruction, trying not to get too distracted by the thought of what was about to happen. “Is there anything different you don’t want happening in there?” She asked and you thought for a second. Your face blushed even darker and your head fell to her shoulder in an attempt to hide it. You nodded a little and she slid her hands down your sides, needing to know your thoughts. You were embarrassed to admit them but she prodded anyway, knowing it was necessary. “Detka. What is it?” She asked, letting your head stay where it was if it would make it easier.

You hesitated before quietly admitting it. “I don’t want her mouth.” You paused and built up further courage. “I don’t want her eating you out.” You stated a deep red blush on your face at having to admit that out loud. She didn’t laugh at you as you had expected though. Instead, she smiled understandingly. 

“That’s yours huh?” She asked with a smile, causing you to nod on her shoulder, your face nuzzling into her neck as you began to place soft kisses on her sensitive skin. “Anything else?” She asked, knowing she would have control of what went on up there and could set her boundaries for herself. When you shook your head she hummed, pleased. You pulled back and kissed her again, sighing happily into a kiss. You found yourself distracted by Wanda’s hands trailing up your shirt again. Suddenly you pulled away with wide eyes and began to laugh. Wanda looked confused before realizing it. 

“How long has she been waiting up there?” You asked between giggles as you covered your mouth at the realization. 

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit.

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

chapter Four

You got the shoe back to the grieving mother. Helped her bury it before you got home and rested your tired eyes.

It was over. He let you leave.

But a pestering feeling told you that it wasn't true. That instead you had just painted a target on you back.

You walked to work the next morning with the same feeling. You tried to shake it. Peacekeepers would have knocked down your door last night if he ordered. He wasn't going to grab you now. It was over.

But as you saw you boss guarding the entrance to work, you knew it wasn't.

You tried to pass her anyway. maybe commander Snow had taken the Panems back off her and all she wanted from you was payback.

You reach the bottom of the steps but your boss blocks the entry to your work. Dread pools your stomach. Without this job, you and your mum don't eat.

She was only 5-foot but her fiery personality, and dark features made up for her short frame.

"I never thought you were stupid" she spat.

"I've got to get to work".

She steps forward to stop you, "You already know there's no work here for you".

"Six years I've worked for you. Never turned up late. Never took a day off. And now with a click of his fingers you wanna toss me aside? I never thought you were a coward". You snap back.

In the six years you worked for her you never rose your voice at her. Always gave in to her demands to work late, do something outside of your job description.

"Anyone not a coward to Commander Snow is dead. You're looking to end up the same way".

"Commander Snow!" you heard a voice holler from behind the door. She popped her head out to show Vanessa. She was a pretty girl with long red hair and blue eyes.

"I heard you were receiving parcels from a peacekeeper but from Commander Snow! God. I'd let that man root me for free".

"Get to work" Your boss snaps, and Vanessa disappears behind the screen doors. Her laughter following her.

Now sensing sympathy for her loyal worker, your boss takes the journey down the steps coming up beside you, and placing her hands on your shoulders.

''Can i give you a piece of advice; men love the chase but hate the catch''.

You pull back from her stunned that she would suggest such a thing to you.

"It could be worse" She continues, "Uglier men. Men who take with nothing in return. He could prove to be useful to your survival".

You shake your head no. You had never even flirted before. You were so timid, you needed someone gentle and kind for your first time. Coriolanus Snow was no such man.

Your boss nods back understanding your temperament.

"Maybe he will bore" She tries.

"He will". Your voice was shaky and unsure.

"Good luck until then". Your boss turns from you and walks back up the stairs.

You feel your chest tighten as you turn and walk home. You still had two panams that would keep the house afloat for at least two months on a stingy budget.

But you were unsure how much patience that the commander had. Could he outlast you. Would his infatuation run you dry in time. What then if not?

Your mother wage could cover the rent but not much more. You had a few candles, a few sellable things. But who would buy them for what they were worth. Had Coriolanus got the message to all the community that you were to suffer.

You move past people in the opposite direction going to work as you walked. You kept your head down ashamed until you made it to your gate.

Only the opened letterbox lifted your sprits. You reach in pulling out a thin letter with a re-attached capital seal. Your brother had always been resourceful and smart. The letter would not have even left district 8 if not for the seal.

You peel it off carefully, planning to re-attach it once you had enough money to send the letter back.

The letter itself did nothing for your confidence.

The first line demanded to know why your letter had a capital seal. He called you silly if you stole it, and stupid if you traded for it. He reprimanded you for sending the coins which he sent back. He was fine in district 8 and didn't need any help. You only had one job; look after yourself and look after mum. It seemed to him you were failing, consorting with Peacekeepers. If he was still around he would smack you until you saw sense. Stay away from Peacekeepers and look after yourself, the last line read,

I love you, Archie.

You fold the letter, keeping the coins in your hand. He always knew what to do even if he had no idea about the circumstances. You thumb the place where your ring was suppose to be, wishing you fought harder to keep it.

The door was already unlocked as you reached it and you called out surprised.

"Mum?".

You hear cries coming from her bedroom and you rush to get to her.

"Mum!" you call again.

"Bernard fired me" She sobbed on her bed. You sit on the edge and pat her back.

"Mum, I am so sorry. This is all my fault".

She doesn't deny it but places a warm hand on your knee.

"We're going to be ok. It won't last forever" You console. You were going to beat him at his own game. You could endure, you've been doing it all your life.

"Look what Archie sent" You showed her the coins in you palm. She smiles at you through her tears and you smile back.

You would endure.

He would bore.

You hold your Saturday market stall using the last of your ingredients.

You had only just started but sold four cakes already. You smile brightly at your customer passing him the brown bag. But he doesn't take it, scurrying off.

The Peacekeeper coming up explains it. He picks up a cake and expects it before throwing it to the ground. Four more peacekeepers come up, and start going through your things.

You stand still with the bag pressed to your chest. You wanted to protest but interfering with peacekeeper work was punishable by whip.

You watch as they turn violent. Throwing over your table and stomping on the baked goods. They kick at your things until they break.

You watch them as he watched you.

You hadn't realized he was there until one of the peacekeepers addressed him asking what was to be done about your money box.

His blue eyes remained on you. "Take it".

All of your days profit and your change was taken.

He stands tall in his commanders uniform, his hat upon his head, and hands in his pocket as the peacekeepers left a mess.

You stare at each other until he calls them off. There was nothing left to destroy. Their time there was now wasted.

He takes a step to you as they went back to the van through the parted audience.

You expected him to say something as he nears but his lips never parted. Instead he takes the brown bag from your hands and follows his men to the van.

You stare at your ruined things but don't cry. It was going to take more than that.

You were going to endure.

You got some work on the side doing laundry. Your clients underpaid you and you had to deliver in the dead of night, but the supplement income took the pressure off.

You had to rebuild your stall, but now that word got out that Commander Snow had it out for you everything tripled in price. No one was willing to be labeled a traitor by him for the going rate of materials.

Food was also tripled. But you didn't tell your mother that. Choosing to tell her you had a reduced appetite given the circumstances.

You had found a macadamia tree behind a row of houses to pick from. You went late afternoon to avoid being seen as you tried and fill your belly.

You stood there now. Plucking the small nuts off the large tree. You had to climb the base, already have taken the lower hanging offerings. You deshelled some, putting them in a pouch for the walk home.

You had been there for nearly an hour but your basket was only a quarter full. It would take another hour to crack all the nuts out of their shells before you could eat them to your full. Your belly ached at the thought.

"Careful you don't fall". Your foot slipped at the voice.

There was no one around to watch you pick the nuts so no one around to hear you scream.

"What did I just tell you" He scolded.

You look down from the tree to see him staring back. He had you crawling higher up but he caught your foot and tugged you gently down. As you lowered yourself he held the deseeding body part as if he was tugging down on a rope.

First your ankle, then your calf, your thigh, your hip, the your upper arm before finally resting on the side of your neck.

In his other hand he held a capital issued duffle bag, and his fingers curled around an apple.

You push off the tree away from him and he lets you.

"What do you want" You ask.

"I heard you were washing laundry" he threw the duffle bag at your feet, "I'll pay double what everyone else is paying".

"I am booked out" you lied. As the series of events escalated people were too scared to even cheat you of work. You had lost two clients just yesterday.

"a trade then" he smiles and it puts you more on edge, "an apple for 10 minutes of your time".

He holds up the apple in his hand. You eye it hungrily. It was red and large, looking juicy in his hand. But you couldn't bare the thought of spending a minute in his presence let alone 10.

"5 minutes" you try.

He smirks, brining up the apple to his teeth and taking a large bite.

"10" he resolves, chewing the apple.

He could see how hungry you were. Your eyes never leaving the apple.

You nod slowly, walking up and taking the apple from his hand. You retreat as soon as you take it, going back to your place.

"You look tired. Have you been sleeping?".

You were right the apple was juicy and delicious. He waits for your answer, not moving on.

"Hard to sleep when you're hungry". You take another bite of the apple, avoiding where he bit.

'You miss my packages" He said it as more a statement then a question. He said it pridefully as if he was proud that you were starving without him.

"Not even a little bit, Sir". it was the truth. The care packages scared you more then anything.

"I miss my job, I miss my stall".

Your answer perplexed him. His strong features locked, and his body tensed.

"Yes, well self-inflected" he dismissed.

You were finally forced to eat the side he bit and he watched with eager eyes as you did.

"Will you sit?" he gestures to the steps of the old house. There was only three of them but they were long and looked stable.

You do take a seat and he follows you.

Once seated, he places his head on your lap, laying down along the step. It causes you to jump up and he lift his head in an uncomfortable position as his cushion jumped away.

He sits back up on the step and reaches for something in his breast pocket. He pulls out a peanut chocolate candy bar. They were popular in the capital and Tigress thought he might want to try them in her care package she sent.

He had no interest but knew you would.

"Here you want this?" it was wrapped in shiny plastic, "All you have to do is sit and let me rest".

You shook the feeling off and returned to your seat. If he tried anything you could just move again.

You tear open the bar, ripping it in half and putting the remainder in your pocket for your mother.

he rests his head down and lays quietly.

"todays the anniversary of my mothers death. Both her and my sister died in child birth together".

he had wanted some condolences. Maybe for her to stoke his face and tell him to sleep.

But she scoffed at him. "last week was the anniversary of little leo lerman's pa. It will always been the day you hung him".

Little Leo Lerman's pa was a traitor to the capital, his mother was a victim of the war they started.

"I've had a long journey back from the Capital. If you can't be kind, you can be quiet".

"I thought you were away" you comment.

"I went back to the Capital for a few days. Returned this morning".

A funeral for a old academy school mate required him to return home. He had to look in touch with Capital matters. But truth being told, he never cared for the man who died. Couldn't remember even talking to him, only ever speaking over him in class when he gave the wrong answer. He was used once more to make Coriolanus look good.

He was glad to see Tigress and Grandma'am too. They both swooned over commander Snow in his uniform. It was nice to be doted over but still didn't itch the need he had. If anything it only grew it.

He longed to return to you. He had hopped that his effort were enough and he would return to you begging for his forgiveness.

Hearing you now noticing his absence gave him a renewed confidence that you would fold sooner rather than latter.

You had only noticed his absence due to the halting of your suffering. No more being stopped and searched by every peace keeper who crossed your path. The 10pm door knocking to check you were home stopped. People even began to talk to you again. You were beginning to think it was over until moments ago.

You chew on the candy, looking around to see even a shadow of a person.

"I heard a rumor while you were gone that you were a peacekeeper in district 12 before commander".

"Most Commanders are Peacekeepers first."

Your hand clutched the railing ready to pull yourself up. But first your gnawing question had to be answered.

"And that while you were a peacekeeper you ran about with a girl named Lucy-grey". His eyes shoot open upon her name. dead and still ruining his life.

"Expect Lucy-grey went missing, and no one's heard from her since".

He sits up and leans against his knees, "It's just a rumor".

You jump back to your feet now the weight of him was off you. Getting as much distance as you can. He reaction confirmed it for you.

"I don't want to disappear" you admit, your eyes tearing up. Your family would never recover. Especially your brother.

He gets up with you, closing the space you created and taking your face into his hands despite your struggle against him.

"And you won't, okay. I never even knew Lucy-grey".

He was going to find whoever told you about her and string them up.

He could see the panic in your eyes, and he wanted to stamp it out.

"It's just a district rumor" he consoles.

The look in his eyes told you the truth.

"No it ain't".

You pull free from him, grabbing you basket as he stood frozen.

"i owe you an apple". You try and move past him, unable to spend any more time in his presence but he grabs your arm and flings you back into the macadamia tree.

You gasp as you make impact. It was a beautiful sound to Coriolanus's ears. He would have enjoyed it if he hadn't been so angry.

"Who do you think you are walking away from me?" his hands reach your throat applying pressure. It wasn't enough to cut your air supply completely off but it was enough to make it difficult to breathe.

You struggle underneath him, trying to push him off.

"I am Commander Snow, you are district scum. You think i am going to let district scum treat me this way?"

His hold tightens as he shakes you a little bit.

"Are you mad? bringing up lucy-grey. mocking the death of my mother."

this was not his sweet girl that plagued his mind.

"Get off me!" you scream at him with all the breath you had left.

His hand comes down. One-two-three times across your face. Tears fill your eyes from the stinging sensation but he doesn't relent.

This was the man who ruled district 12. He wouldn't have to make you disappear he could just leave your body were it laid.

Your hand reaches out, touching his neck and it stilled him from his rage.

"Stop" you beg, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to".

You feel his fingers loosen from your neck, and you take gasps of air while you can.

"I am sorry" you say again and his hands rest on your collar bone rather then your neck.

He lifts one hand up stoking your cheek,

"That bruise will never heal if you keep this up".

"I know". You wrap your hands around his wrist. He seems receptive to your touch.

Keeping his hands on your collar bone he rests his forehead on you.

You needed to get away from him. His temper flared so quickly, you were sure to make a mistake that would lead to his hands reaching for your neck again.

If codling kept him kind then you were going to lay it on thick until you were back to safety.

You rub his back like he was a child, while your other arm laid across his shoulders.

He presses further into you, moving his hands so there wrapped around your waist.

It looked like a lovers embrace but you felt like a mouse in the mouth of a snake.

Commander Snow was a mummy's boy, you learnt. It seemed logical that he was trying to replace the hole she left.

"Can you walk me home?" you ask. The walk home was nearly 15 minutes but you knew of you tried to leave without him again, his anger would flare back up.

You feel his nose rubbing your skin as he nods but he doesn't move.

"come on" You urge pushing against him. He straightens, heaving off you and picking up the basket you dropped and the duffle bag he threw.

He held out his hand to you, and you take it without hesitation.

You walk behind the houses to avoid being seen together. He leads and you trail slowly behind him.

Your eyes drop with tears from the pain of your cheek. He only notices when you snuffle.

It halts him in his tracks. He turns to you, wiggling his hand free and wiping away your tears.

"Hey, I am not angry anymore" he consoles.

You nod your head, taking his hand back in yours and coaxing him forward again. You were almost home. Just a few more meters.

Night had just begin to overtake the sky as you saw your house come into view. You let go of Coriolanus hand and press yourself against a neighbors house as man covered in coal returns from work.

You had expected that he would leave you at the gate but he continues past it, staying just behind you as you reach the steps of your house.

"Thank you for walking me home, Commander". You reach for your basket but he keeps it out of your grip.

"I'll bring it in side for you".

You freeze at his words. The last thing you want is for him to enter your home were he would be given free reign to do what he wanted behind closed doors. At least out in the open you had a chance of a good Samaritan coming to your aid.

But you couldn't tell him that.

You nod instead. Unlocking your door you turn to him.

"Could you check the mail for me?"

His hand touches your elbow as he turns, "Of course".

You wait for him to open the empty mail box at the end of your house before you rush inside. Locking the door behind you. You double check the windows on the side, ensuring they are well secured.

He heard the door slam and turned back up the drive. He tries the door nob to see it locked. If he was upset he didn't show it, keeping his face emotionless.

He walks to the window where you stood, eyeing you through the glass.

"vanessa lives by the lake. House 1-02" He begins to eat the de-shelled macadamias that you planned to have for dinner.

"she's very pretty and less troublesome then me. You'll like her".

He smiles a tight smile, no longer looking at you he turns, tipping your basket as he walks back to the gate. You would pick the nuts up later for dinner.

You felt as if you won watching him walk away. You bested him today.

But he didn't want Vanessa, he wanted you.

No one was willing to have their clothes washed by you. He must have figured out your clients, and scared them into submission.

With the loss of income, you were forced to use your savings that were fleeting fast with the rising prices.

The macadamia tree was no more. He had cut it down to a stump the next day. You only had a small basket left to last you.

Your mother was depressed by the isolation of the community. She rarely left the house, unable to beg for a job any longer.

You tired to lift her spirt by using the last of your flour to make her a small cupcake. You surprised her with it after dinner.

She hadn't even taken a bite before the sound of a van pulling up was heard. You both froze waiting for what was next.

Peacekeepers knocked down the door, coming in full force in a single file.

One grabs you and pushes you against the wall while the others tear apart your house. You feel his hands upon you as he searches for valuables upon your body.

Your mother is subjected to the same treatment by another.

A tight hold on your neck kept you from turning but you could hear the house being turned over. Crashing sounds could be heard from every direction. Smashes from things being broken, sounds of cheering as they found something valuable.

One had taken your mums silver necklace that was gifted by your dad just before he died. She had beg the Peacekeeper to leave it but you knew their orders were to reek havoc.

Breaking up the sound of looting was a drill. You could see out of the corner of your eye that a peacekeeper was taking your door.

You yelled but it was drowned out by the sound.

Once it was off its hinges, the peacekeepers released you and your mum, beginning to return to their truck with the door and your valuables.

You rush to your bedroom, falling to your knees seeing that the loose floor board panels that you hid your savings under was opened.

You and your mum were officially destitute.

The open door way let the cold air and bugs in. You had put up a old blanket but it did little.

It also didn't offer you any protection from unwanted visitors.

Coriolanus walked right past the blanket into your home. You shoot up from the table. Standing in front of the hallway to block him from going any further into your home.

"what are you doing here"

"I came to see if you had changed your mind about apologizing. I thought coming to the compound might have been a little scary for you".

He takes a step forward coming across to you. His head turns as he examines the damage his peacekeepers did.

"i want my door back" you demanded.

"I want my apology". He continues to you

"an apology for what? look at my house". He backs you into the wall

"an apology for treating me so cruelly".

"get out" you demanded.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn't have to be this way".

"get out of my house" you repeat.

He places a hand on the wall next to you, leaning in. You feel his hand on caressing your cheek.

"you showed me the other day what a sweet girl you can be. Must i wring it from you?".

You think about shouting for your mother. She took to lying down in her bed to starve off the cold. But you worried for her safety if you did.

His stoking hand stopped, bracing itself against the side of your face.

He leans his head closer, his lips brushing yours. You knew what was coming next, and tried to move your head out of the line of attack.

He takes a stronger hold on your chin to keep you in place, and kisses you with the same hunger as the night against the wall.

He comes back for more before he had fully pull apart his lips from yours.

'Commander Snow". Your mother voice broke his kiss, and he turns to see her in the living room.

"Ma'am" he greets.

He doesn't move from you, unashamed as your mother glares down at him.

"What an honor it is to have you in our home" She pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for him. One of three that didn't break. "Can i offer you some water".

"No thank you, Ma'am. I just came to check on your daughter".

"As you can see, she's fine. Thank you, Sir". Your mother walks to the door way, holding up the blanket, " If anything changes I will be sure to let you know. So there's no need to come back down. We would hate to keep you from your important duties".

Commander Snow scoffs at the women. She was a bad influence on you.

He turns back to you and places a quick, deep kiss on your lips before following his directions to the door.

"No trouble at all. I'll be back to ensure the safety of you both" he pins your mother under his stare as he spoke, "District 12 is a dangerous place".

"Good night, Commander" your mother voice wavers.

"Ma'am" he nods in her direction and disappears behind the sheet.

Your mother rushes to you once he goes, pulling you into her arms. You were too frozen to hug back.

You knew your mother was going to pay for her interference.

But as peacekeepers invaded your house once more and dragged her down the road. You had no idea what awaited her.

You shout at them to get off her. Hitting and pulling the Peacekeeper that had her.

People come out from their houses at the noise. Watching as the women is pulled to the town center with her daughter carrying on behind her.

You feel arms secure you to a chest and you turn expecting to see Coriolanus giving you an out only to find a faceless peacekeeper.

You beg him to let your mother go but he continues silently, pushing you along.

You watch as they lock her on the whipping post.

"Commander Snow" you yell out for the only man who could stop this but he was no where to be found, "Commander Snow".

You scream as the whip came down upon your mother.

The cries of your mother will forever be engrained in your brain. You stood helpless as you watched her be whipped unconscious. Only then was she unlocked from the post and the peacekeepers moved the crowd on.

You rushed to her as the Peacekeeper released you. You cradled her head in your lap. it was you who should have been whipped. You wished you could have taken it for her. But he knew the only way to hurt you was to hurt the people you loved.

Your friend, Lydia saw the ordeal and helped you get your mother back to the house. You didn't have anything that could help her. The best you could do was clean the blood with water which caused her to wake from the pain and put her to bed.

"it's my fault, Lydia" you cry reaching out to hold her but she retreats from you.

"I am so sorry. I can't be seen with you". she rushes back to the entry way, "I shouldn't have even helped with your mother".

You fall to your knees as you watch her leave. You were utterly alone.

Your mother is bed ridden from the pain. Unable to eat or sleep. Two nights later, you receive a letter from him. In it was two small bottles of morphling.

I have what you need. Come see me

-C

The note read.

You rush to your mother giving her the small bottle. It worked instantly to relieve her pain. You stroke her head as she sleeps.

You remember what your boss has said; men love the chase but hate the catch.

Perhaps if you let him take what he wanted it would mark the end of this torture. You wouldn't be the first women to loose your virginity to a peacekeeper. the consequences weren't worth the effort in keeping it.

Your pride lumped itself in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it.

The next morning you gave your mother her breakfast and second dose of morphling before rushing over to your bosses house. You knew she was the only one who would see you.

She doesn't allow you in but greets you on the front porch.

"Have you come to your senses?" she asks.

"He whipped my mother"

"I heard. What do you plan to do about it?".

"The only thing I can" your voice was low and soft but she heard you.

"What do you need?"

"Two cups of sugar and a cup of flour".

She goes back inside and returns with your request. You could feel her neighbors staring out at you from their windows.

She comes down to the steps to where you stood and you take the whole pouches of ingredients.

"Thank you", Your boss was not known for being generous.

"When he is done, come round and i'll pour you a drink".

You nod your head unable to form a thought.

"Oh and Y/N, relax. It will hurt less the less you fight it".

She offers a comforting hand on your back, but you shake it off quickly to return home.

You make a batch of brownies with the ingredients.

You give a small patch to your mother and box the rest up in your basket.

You had showered and prepared yourself. Putting on your nicest dress, a soft blue one that ties into a bow in middle of your back. You borrow your mother worn black high heels, and brush your hair a hundred times.

You feel your pride bubble back in your throat as you reach the compound. You have to push it back down to give the guarding peacekeeper your name.

He repeats it into his communicator and the gate swings open.

You follow the guard to the well known building to see Coriolanus waiting at the bottom step.

He dismisses the Peacekeeper as he takes your basket from you and places a hand on your back.

"Thank you for seeing me, Commander". You talk to him as he leads you to his office.

"I was going to visit tonight. Is everything ok?"

You stare at him. He was so detached from his actions.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior".

You reach his large oak doors, which he opens for you.

"i am glad to hear it" he follows you in.

"Are these for me?" he asks looking through your basket.

"yes'' you answer.

He pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit in, choosing to lean against the desk as he eats the brownie.

"These are good" he praises, taking another bite.

"I used the macadamias".

He reaches into the basket and offers you one. You decline it.

"I don't think i could ever eat another one. It took a hundred just to keep me semi full".

He nods in understanding, putting it back. He leans forward over you as he speaks.

"one time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach".

"that must have been awful".

he feels his heart lurch at her words. Finally sympathy. How he longed for it. For someone to care about his suffering.

But he tried to remain nonchalant. Not wanting her to think he was weak.

He shrugs his shoulders, "it was a long time ago".

He brushes his hand together, clasping them shut on his lap.

"So your apology. Lets hear it".

You thought you already had done it with the brownies but he wanted you to grovel some more.

That pesky pride bounces in your chest. But no, you wouldn't let it interfere. Your mother needed the morphling not only for the pain relief but to warn off infection.

"Commander Snow I-"

"Coriolanus" He interrupts.

"Coriolanus" you start again, "I don't know what came over me".

You don't look him in the eyes, keeping your eyes on his shiny shoes. You can't. But you can feel him looking at you.

"My actions are not reflective of the respect I hold for the capital".

The flex of his shoe tells you that he was unpleased with you apology.

"Or you". Yes, the shoe pointed back down. He wanted the focus on him.

"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I would never repeat my actions again. You would have my undivided loyalty for your kindness".

He stands up going to his desk chair and folding his hands on top. You eyes rise to watch him. You half expect him to pick up the phone and call a peacekeeper in.

"If you are after my forgiveness you have it. But if you are after my services there are no longer free".

You press your legs together and repeat your mantra; men love the chase but hate the catch.

It was time to be caught. You rise from your chair to stand in front of him. He angles his chair to face you. His legs brush against yours.

"My mother needs morphling". Would it be hint enough.

It seemed to be as he places his hand on your hip.

"And what do you need?". He tugs you down with his hold on your hip and you land awkwardly between his legs. You hold yourself up on the arm of his chair.

"Morphling," you answer. You face was inches away from his. The closest you've ever been without his hands wrapped around your neck.

"Maybe to not have to eat macadamias again?"

His smile throws you off guard. You find yourself dazzled by his straight white teeth poking out behind his plump lips.

"A new dress perhaps?". His hand goes to its favorite place on the side of your face and you can feel his thumb moving back and forth.

"Morphling" you repeat and it earns a laugh from him.

He loved that your needs came second to everyone else's. To his.

"Okay, morphling," he laughs, "What are you willing to trade for morphling? It's not easy to come by".

"Anything". This was it. You would loose you virgnity on the floor of the Commanders office for a case of morphling.

"hm" he muses. He picks up your right hand from the arm of the chair and wraps it around his neck. It throws you off balance.

"How about dinner?". You look at him. Maybe the floor didn't suit a man of his stature. Too animalistic.

"Where?". Did he want to go to a backroom of the hob?

"Your place".

"Tonight?". You had nothing to cook.

"Tomorrow". You still doubted your ability to find something. You doubt your boss would extend her kindness anymore, and all your friends had deserted you until it all blew over.

"do you like macadamias?". You think you still had a handful left. Did it matter. He wasn't truly coming to eat.

"They taste like paste in my mouth", he leans forward and presses a button asking someone to bring in the box.

"I'll be there around 6:30. Keep your mother in the backroom. I don't think she likes me very much".

"She can't even get out of bed" you admit.

He reaches into his draw, pulling out two small bottles of morphling.

"These won't help that but will ease the pain".

You take them fast. "Thank you".

"They aren't free. You owe me".

You jump as you hear the door open. Getting off him, just in time for a women in grey to enter with a small box. Coriolanus remains in a relaxed position in his chair.

"Commander" she greets as she places the box on the table and walks away. You peer into the box to see a small lot of vegetables, a bag of apples, two pears and a small bundle of meat wrapped up in parchment.

"For dinner tomorrow night".

He gets up from his chair taking the box with him, and directs you to the door with a hand on your shoulder.

"Now as much as I have loved seeing you. I have to get to a meeting, and you have to get home".

He leads you back through the building and down the steps to were peacekeepers were loading up into their van for night patrolling.

You buck against him as he pushes you to the van. You felt safer making your own way home.

They salute him, halting their process.

"14 Cherry lane", he nods in your direction. A young peacekeeper nods back.

He places the box on the floor of the van so he had two hands to lift you up. You protest telling him you could get home yourself but you were grabbed by a series of hands and placed on the bench

The men stood, hanging on to the material of the roof to avoid sitting down next to you. You felt safer at least knowing that they were too sacred of Coriolanus to touch you.

The leader of the group, dressed in smarter uniform comes to Coriolanus and confirms it will be done with a salute. Coriolanus pays him no mind, handing the box back up to you.

Two Peacekeepers lock the gate in and the van takes off. Coriolanus watches it go, and you watch him get smaller and smaller as you pass the boundary out of the compound.

The van ride is bumpy and silent. The men look out for protentional danger and you look out for familiar landmarks to track how far you were off.

You see a large red sign that marks the beginning of your neighborhood.

"wait, just here, please" the sound of the van would have the neighborhood looking out the window, and after tonight the judgemental looks of your negibours would be too much to bear.

The driver pulls over and the same peacekeepers unlock the gate for you. As soon as you jump out the van takes back off and your grateful for the darkness that covers you.

You walk back in your uncomfortable high heals. They snag every rock as you walk, and your ankle twists so many times you loose count.

Tomorrow night he would come, and it would all be over.

The next morning Peacekeepers come and reinstall your door. It was a welcomes surprised that earnt a few head nods from your community. It was a mark of the end. Things were returning to normal.

The new door even allowed you to trade the two pears for some pastry and 2 eggs. People were no longer afraid to do business with you.

You spend the rest of the day baking an apple pie for desert, tending to your mother who could now eat and bathe without pain, and tiding up the house for your visitor tonight.

You hopped he would bring more morphling. Your mother woke screaming in pain as a bird entered the house without the door and landed on her back. You had to give her the second bottle to ease her. But it left her dry for tonight.

Extra food would be nice too. The box only really fed a meal for two, and he had expected you to prepare dinner for him tonight with it.

You had thought about feeding your mother first and leaving a plate for him. But knew it would upset him. Dinner involved two people eating together. Instead you would only take small bites until he finished his meal and give the rest to you mother once he leaves.

You wouldn't be able to eat much with the anxiety in your belly anyway. But you assured yourself it would be fine.

He would come and take. And tomorrow morning you would go to work, and then your mothers work to earn both wages. With that and a tightened budget you could afford black market morphling, until that too was just a bad memory.

5 o'clock comes and you busy yourself with cooking and cleaning. When that was finished you dressed yourself back in your best dress and mothers shoes. Your feet cried as the shoes pressed down on the sores they made.

You stare at the clock until it hits 6:30. he didn't appear out of thin air. You wait at the table still.

It hits 6:31 and you think maybe he changed his mind. But a hard knock at the door tells you he hadn't.

You don't keep him waiting. he was an impatient man, and you also didn't want people to see him on your porch.

You yank open the door to see him standing tall in his official uniform and another small box in his hands. His smell hit you instantly. It was fresh and masculine. It was the first time you didn't hold your breathe around him, and his smell invades your nose.

Checking behind him for a peacekeeper van, you found none. Did he walk here, you wondered. But there wasn't a drop of sweat on him. It was unlikely.

"Hello" He greets.

You step back to let him in. He juggles the box in one hand while the other closes the door behind him.

'Hi" you return half-heartedly.

He offers you the box and you take it to the kitchen. He follows you like a lost dog, never allowing more then an inch between you as you walk.

'Dinner's ready. If you're hungry". You look through the box digging for the morphling, but disappointment fills you as you fail to find it.

"Starving" he responds.

He turns you towards him by your hips and smashes his lips down upon yours. he is a needy kisser, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth to stop you from moving before returning to your top lip to restart the kiss.

He pulls way breathless.

'For the morphling, yesterday" He justifies with a peck to your cheek.

What about the morphling, today, you wanted to ask but you weren't sure how he would respond to the question.

Instead you tell him to take a seat at the table and you would bring it out to him.

He sits as he is told. You set two places across from each other. One with their back to the wall leaving the other to face back from the door. Coriolanus takes a seat at the one facing the door. It allowed him to watch you in the kitchen as you plate the food.

He drags the other place mat across the table and seats it next to his. Traditional face to face dinning would not do tonight.

You come over with the plates, noticing the new arrangement. You go with it. Tonight would be about what he wanted.

"It smells amazing. Thank you". He praises.

You smile a tight smile at him. Unable to form words. Your mother would wake soon in a great deal of pain.

he watches you take small bites of your food while he demolishes his.

Your feet ache under the table, the shoes pressing hard into you. You slip the backs off, letting your heels rest on top.

The air carried a awkward silence. He was eating his food while eyeing you. You could tell he was trying to figure out why you chose to spend ten minutes eating a single potato. He knew how hungry you must be.

You needed to keep him focused on himself.

"I didn't hear a van. Did you walk?". You ask. You push your food to the side to make it look like there was an empty space on your plate.

"I parked it in the woods behind. I heard you asked to be dropped off before your stop last night. Figured you didn't want the attention".

"Thank you" you say earnestly.

"You know" he places some stake into his mouth, "people are going to know about us. Most already do".

Us. There was no us. It was commander Snow and a district girl. Entirely separate.

"you're my girl. People should know it".

Your eyes shoot up to his. No. he was going to catch and release.

"the people here-" you start.

"If some one gives you a hard time, you write their name on a piece of paper for me".

You would never do that. You felt your anger flare up and you stomp it down. The door was closed and your mother was injured. No one would come to your aid if you did something stupid.

"Okay?" He presses.

You nod your head in tune to your mothers crying.

Your head snaps back to the bedroom, and then back to Snow.

he made no offer of morphling, as he ate. You wondered how he could stomach it hearing another person cry out.

"Commander Snow".

You were going to ask, saying no wasn't the worse thing he could do but you were desperate.

"Coriolanus. You can call me Coriolanus in private". He wipes his mouth from his dinner with a handkerchief.

You couldn't call him Coriolanus. It was too familiar. So you just continued your sentence.

"I am very grateful for the food that you brought".

Your sentence filled his eyes with light.

"But" they darken at your ongoing, "I was wondering about the morphling that was promised".

"You think you deserve morphling? I told you favor has to be earnt".

Your mother cries out again, calling out for you.

"How would I earn morphling?" here it was his proposition.

"You could try being nicer to me".

You hands ball in frustration. Just say what you want, you begged, You couldn't be the one to offer it.

"I will. I will be nicer, but could I have the morphling now and then we can go to my bedroom?".

"Why would we do that?"

"Please!" you grunt, lunching onto his arm.

"You think I want to fuck you?".

You mother screams for you to come to her and you dig your nails into his uniform.

'You don't?" what the hell was this all for.

"Not until I get back to the Capital".

You lurch up, holding out you hand.

"Coriolanus please"

"who's to say I brought it?".

You knew he did.

''You're welcome to check". He grins, holding out his arms for a pat down.

A sob from your mother had your hands roaming his uniform. Pressing over his arms, and chest for small pockets that he could hide them in.

You pressed against nothing but soft flesh. You go to his uniform belt that was tight around his waist, checking the small compartments built in. He had taken off his hand gun but his handcuffs were still linked over his belt.

He takes hold of the back of your neck tugging you closer so he could brush his teeth against your throat. He kissed and bit as he pleases while you continued to search.

You shake you head at him, trying to keep you throat from his mouth but his hold tightens, going up to your hair.

You pat along his torso. The Commander peacekeeper uniform was intricate there could be a secret compartment anywhere.

When you get to his pant pocket you feel the shape of the small bottle. You dig into his pocket and he catches your wrist.

You tug back but don't make it far. You beg him to release you. You had found the bottle. You had won.

Your mother calls out for you again and he does release you. Letting you go to her.

You run down the hallway to her bedroom. falling to your knees beside her and uncapping the bottle.

"here" you bring it up to her lips but she doesn't take it.

"is he here" .The darkness of the room covers bites on your neck but she still eyes them like she can see them.

"No, mama. No one is here. Drink".

You tilt the bottle to her lips and she sucks it down hungrily. Her eyes droop as she rests her head back on her pillow. You stoke her hair until they close fully.

You couldn't let you emotions get the better of you. You just had to grin and bare it until he leaves. But now he has left you confused. He told you he didn't want to sleep with you until he's back in the Capital.

You thought you knew what tonight was going to hold but now everything is up in the air. Still, at least you knew he had plans to return to the Capital. You wouldn't have to endure him forever.

He could continue the morphling supply. That would save you having to consort with rebels. If you could avoid making him mad.

With your mother asleep you return to the living room where Coriolanus had started to eat your mothers dinner. If she won out in your attention, she lost out on dinner.

You clear you throat, "Thank you".

He looked pissed in his chair, and you were eager to return him to a good mood.

You clear the empty dinner plates from the table,

"Would you like some desert? I baked apple pie just for you".

He liked being center of attention and you would give him special treatment tonight.

He notices your pained walk to the kitchen. The way your knee slightly buckled as you put weight on your left foot. When you reached for the powered sugar in the top shelf, your foot rose from the heal and he could see the redness from where it rubbed.

You pat the sugar on top of the slice of the apple pie and bring it back over to him at a slow pace.

You place it in front of him. You didn't cut a piece for yourself, your throat hurt from bites.

Still he looked unhappy and you worried as he pushed the bowl away from him, and took you into his arm.

With his chair scraped back he positioned you in front of him, shoving you into a sitting position on top of the table.

His hands trailed down to your shoes, and he took them off, rubbing your sore heals. He knew what it was like to wear shoes that were too small.

He sat rubbing your sore feet, you slightly pull away as his strong hands dug into separated skin.

"What about your desert?" You asked. You had planned to try and send him on his way as soon as he ate it.

You strong finger latched themselves around your ankle and threw it over his shoulder. His other hand pushed your dress up around your hips.

You push his shoulders back as his head came between you thighs.

"you said you wouldn't" you squabble.

"I said I wouldn't fuck you. I didn't say we couldn't do other fun things".

His fingers find their way to your panties and he pulls them off, pocketing them.

"Lay down" he demanded, "i have some more morphling if you're good".

You lay flat against your dinner table and squeeze your eyes shut.

he takes both your knees and hooks them over his broad shoulder, pulling you closer to his mouth.

Your body jolts as he lays his lips across your center. Sucking as if it were a juicy stone fruit. You could feel your own wetness and you felt ashamed. But as your boss had said, there were uglier men out there.

As his first lick lands your hand shot out to his head. If he still had his curls you would have grabbed them but you clutched at air.

He laps and sucks hungrily as you wiggle beneath him. You bite back soft moans. This had never been done to you before, and you had no idea you could feel so good.

You could feel him as he spelt out his name with his tongue. C-the O had your hips bucking-R-I- another hard O and a sound crawled its way from your throat- L-A-N-U- he sucked as he finished the S.

You felt his teeth graze your pearl, giving you a second of pain before he went down and started to poke at your entrance.

He was slow and lazy as he ate you out, keeping your thighs in a strong hold. It felt your stomach form knots as he went up and down. Never letting you fully build from one spot.

You could hear him slurping and moaning as he worked. You tried your best to keep quiet. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing it felt good.

But as you came undone, the orgasm that ripples through you demanded to be known. You hand claws at your own face unsure of what to do while the other clamped down on Coriolanus hand on your thighs.

He added his thumb from his spare hand to your pearl and massaged you through your organism. The over stimulation was too much and you kicked at him to release you.

"Just feel it" he ordered.

You did and it left you spent on table.

"Good girl. You took it well". He tugged you down from the table to the floor beneath him where you sunk.

He undid he belt and you guessed it was his turn.

"Hold out your tongue". You did as he asked poking out your tongue to him.

He freed himself just enough to release his throbbing cock. It stood upright begging for attention. You thought it was going to look scarier, but it could have been your own arousal that soften the member.

He grips your chin, pulling down so your mouth was open as he slowly stokes himself over you.

"Kiss it" he challenged.

You press a soft kiss to his tip and he shudders. Was this all it took for the great commander Snow to crumble.

"Take it" he breathed, "Just the tip".

You take just the first part into your mouth, and he reaches down for your hand. You give it to him and he places it around his cock. He moves your hand for you back and forth.

"Get off" he barks but keeps his hand pressed tightly around yours. You take his mouth off him, and watch as he pumps himself with your hand.

You watch him with his head thrown back and eyes closed. You could see his quick breathes passing through his tummy.

He looks down, seemingly irritated by you, he grabs your hair and yanks it back.

"Open" was the only word he could get out.

You resume your position of sticking your tongue out with your mouth open and he goes back to his state of pleasure.

"That's it, baby" he moans, "like that. Yeah".

His hand over yours quickens and you can see him clutching the arm of the chair.

"Fuck, baby" he says as his milk spills out of him.

The salty taste hits your tongue making you instantly close your mouth. It goes all over the floor and your best dress. Your mothers terrible shoes were safe through.

With his claw still in the back of your head, he maneuvers you out of the way as he bends down and scoops some of his cum off the floor.

He pushes it back into your mouth, through your teeth.

"taste me, baby".

He lets you get up after his fingers are clean. You both straighten out your dress wear. He kicks your chair out for you and you take it. Slumping into it, feeling sick.

He reaches for his pie, taking a bite. He groans in appreciation of its taste. Digging his spoon back for more, he lift it to you.

You stare at him dazed before you eat from his spoon, wanting nothing more then to get the taste of him out of your mouth.

He leaves later on with a kiss goodnight and two more bottles of morphling. Enough to last you until tomorrow night. Where you expected to see him and earn some more.

--------

taglist; @namelesslosers @urfavnoirette

[mrsshabana]

while reading Against All Odds I was like "AAAA JUST KISS ALREADY" in every chapter before they started dating- So I was wondering , how would AAO gyutaro react if in the middle of a study date the reader just couldn't take it anymore and said "gyutaro I really want to kiss you O-O " out of nowhere

Kissing Gyutaro in the middle of a study date ~ ♥

Against All Odds - Gyutaro x Female!Reader

Gyutaro had invited you over for a study date. Another study date. It seems like he invites you over to study at least 3 times a week, even though most of the time the two of you get distracted and start talking or watching youtube videos together.

But this time, he is adamant about studying. Making sure that you remember everything for this upcoming anatomy exam.

But even though he is focusing so hard on studying, you can't seem to focus on anything but him. Your gaze fixated on his hunched form.

He sits across from you on the bed, his head buried in the textbook sitting on his lap. He goes back and forth between the book and his flash cards.

You stare at his lips as he mumbles to himself.

"Gyutaro, I really want to kiss you," you say without really thinking.

He immediately looks up at you. His face red and eyes wide.

"Wh-what...?" he mumbles.

You blush with embarrassment when you realize what you've just said. But there's no going back now, so you might as well take what you want.

Leaning forward, you caress Gyutaro's face and press your lips against his.

His body goes stiff, and he stares at you as you kiss him. His thoughts start spiraling.

SHE'S KISSING ME! SHE'S KISSING ME! Why the fuck is she kissing me?! I didn't put on chapstick! I'm not ready for this! FUCK!! It feels so good though... her lips are so soft... and she smells so sweet...

He begins to calm down. Closing his eyes and reciprocating the kiss. You swear that you can hear a soft moan escape his lips. He puts his hand on your thigh and leans forward. Getting lost in your affection.

When you pull away from the kiss, the two of you just stare at each other. Unable to believe that that actually just happened.

Gyutaro speaks up first, "Wh-why did you do that?"

"Because... It's something that I've been wanting to do for a very long time," you admit.

Gyutaro frowns. Everything within him is telling him to reject you. That he should break your heart so you won't ever try to be close to him again. It'd be for your own safety after all. Do you not understand that you just kissed a demon? And not just any demon, one of the most dangerous demons on campus? For a moment he thinks you are just some stupid girl, blindly following her emotions. But he knows that's not true. And he knows that he can pretend all he wants, but he will never be able to deny how he truly feels about you.

"It's something that I've wanted for a very long time too," he smiles shyly, "Maybe... we could do it again?"

[myeagleexpert]

The Silence of the Seven

Synopsis:

The peaceful atmosphere is shattered when Yuu finds one of her friends in a coma of unknown causes. Determined to uncover the truth, Yuu and her friends begin investigating the case and discover a curious pattern that links the victims. But as the investigation progresses, they find themselves in a tangle with powerful enemies, and this time the danger is out of Twisted Wonderland. Yuu and her friends will have to fight against unknown forces to find answers and unravel the mystery before it's too late.

Notes: I won't give many warnings before each chapter, because, you know, the suspense. Yuu is a girl and is around 18 years old. I'm just saying that we will have many platonic and romantic moments in the series, and that you always read until the end of the chapter <3

Chapter I: I'll Get You

Yuu walked through the long corridors of the ancient library, passing them as if he knew every old corner and every forgotten book. Because actually, she does. As soon as she arrived in this strange world, she tried in every way to return to her original dimension, digging through all the books on multi-dimensional travel, mining any and all information about how to return home. But that's not why she's here today and with Riddle much less.

“If you want to survive in this world, you have to learn about it”

It was the purpose Riddle insisted on taking some classes with the foreign student. The leader of Heartslabyul had crimson red hair and the temper of a kindergarten principal, his nostrils always smoked and his mouth recited the 810 questionable laws of the Queen of Hearts. If not for the beautiful blue-gray eyes, Yuu would have joined the chaos of anarchy, but being peaceful she opted for one provocation or another.

"Riddle, I've been wondering, are these laws really necessary?" usually this led to some fun discussions with the grinning Cheshire cat

Today they were at a secluded table in the ancient library, discussing the origin of some figures and mythology.

“According to historians, the Queen of Hearts had a proportionate head, but due to an accident just before the coronation, she suffered an injury that led to swelling of her head.”

“And your ego…” Yuu muttered, he had several things to say about the tyrannical majesty but bit his tongue… today at least

"What did you say?"

“What about the creatures from the Kingdom of Roses?”

“It is said that the creatures are extinct species from the kingdom during the colonization…- he stopped and looked for the page in the book with illustrations- When the settlers tried to explore some unknown lands it was reported that they found flowers so tall that they stopped them from going on, so they decided to cut them down and heard voices from the forest expelling them.” Was that supposed to be scary? An idea flashed through the mind of the magicless student, her eyes glistening with memories and she did the best horror storytelling voice she could muster.

“The legends here are very interesting, but in my world we have a different view of nature”

“Ah, please tell me Yuu.” Riddle leaned forward as Yuu approached, naturally curious and thirsty for knowledge.

“In the era of exploration, a rich farmer wanted to increase his lands and for that, he destroyed the protected lands of the indigenous people. Once he took his foreman to open the forest in a sacred land and on this day, the furious nature sent a creature with a head of fire and feet turned backwards to end man's miserable life.”

Widening his eyes and holding his breath, Riddle silently nodded his head for Yuu to continue "With an animalistic scream the creature drove a fiery stake through the heart of the man who fell 'dead' to the ground-

“Why the quotes? Is he not dead?” Rido questioned the physical quotation marks his friend made, but felt an immediate chill when he saw how much his face darkened.

“However… he was so hideously terrible that both heaven and hell rejected him and earth refused to bury such a devilish soul. The now Dry Corps was cursed eternally into a condition of filthy spirit doomed to roam the cities until the end of time but… it is said that if the Dry Corps finds a host as bad as it is, it will possess it and use the living body to do even worse evils until a stronger entity of nature appears.”

The so stern leader of Heartabull kept his eyes fixed on a specific corner, he felt anesthetized with so much information that he had just heard so much that he didn't even notice that Yuu had gotten up from his chair with the mischievous intentions of scaring him from behind.

“Riddlee~” with a light pat, the red-haired one let out a high-pitched squeal that, yes, the entire library heard.

“Oh by the Seven! Yuu!”

"Riddle-chan, you shouldn't make noise in the library, you know?" teased him

“I wouldn't have yelled if you hadn't—

“Yanoo….cans of tuna…” a darling feline, Grim, was sleeping peacefully with no problems on top of the books when he escaped words in his sleep Such an action, brought to the two leaders childish and innocent giggles, which were muffled by the soft fur of Grimm. A sweet moment few would ever see…

And like all good things come to an end….

"Aaaah Kingyo-chann I know you're there" a very familiar voice of the two echoed through the halls

“Aa-ah Floyd! He can't see me, otherwise I'll be late for the Riding Club" his little antennae flick up in warning and in agitated whispers he turns to Yuu

"I distract him, Grim takes him to the corridor 03 passage" whispered back Yuu and traded a can of tuna for his companion

The girl knew the secret passages of the NRC like the back of her hands, and Riddle trusted them so because Ramshackle's memorable duo were like brothers to him, which was very difficult considering the walls and barriers that had been built since his overblot .

“See you later, thank you.” "Thank you"

A code of signs was exchanged between the two before Riddle entered the dark secret passage on the other side of the library, the language was created little by little, a mix of the sign language of his dear world and Twisted Wonderland that deepened as he went. that the bonds with the other person were deepening.

“Who was Koebi-chann talking to?” The twin's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, he was at the table they'd been studying at just now, his posture relaxed with the familiar wide, sharp-toothed smile.

"Floyd, let's play."- determined she started her plan in mind.

“Aaah, I'm not in the mood to play tag with Koebi-chan, I want to play with Kingyo-chan"- Already uninterested Floyd got up with a serious expression

“What if we make a deal?” When Yuu stepped in front of the tallest one, he didn't expect those words from her "If you catch me in 3 minutes, I'll tell you where Riddle is, but if not, I won't tell you anything." Oh that got his attention, already setting the timer on her watch

“Koebi-chan is so creative! Let's play! I count ok: 1…2…3 and that's it! Run fast or I'll catch you~” the twin hummed, lazy voice but a predator's gaze

The two ran wild leaving the library, Yuu was dodging the tables while Floyd, the mermaid, preferred to jump on top of them to annoy the students. Outside, the girl got a good boost down the hall, taking advantage of Floyd trying to get through the door.

2 minutes…

Each on the opposite side of the hall, Floyd showing his sharp teeth and Yuu a playful smile, the laughter of both spread in the hall: loud, uncoordinated and without any concern. As she turned a corner that led to the patio, she lost Floyd and only then did the adrenaline let her remember a little thing: Where there's fire, there's smoke. And the horror twins, as Grim calls them, are a real fire. Floyd is here…where is Jade?

1 minute-she checked her watch

"Ahh I'm so close to getting rid of this crazy guy!"-She thought with her chest rising and falling and breathing heavily. Her eyes searched every possible place to climb or hide, Floyd is faster but if she can stay away from him until time stands still…

"The tree!"

30 seconds

The girl ran with all her might towards the patio tree, her loud footsteps alerted Floyd who was trying to see where she was. The little bug was out of breath and was trying to circle the patio trying to kill time to get to the damn tree just didn't count that—

“Oya oya, what do we have here?”- She didn't see where the voice was coming from, she just felt someone put her foot on her for her to fall, Floyd who is not silly at all, took the opportunity and grabbed the student rolling them both on the floor.

“I got you Koebi-chan!~~~” for a moment they forgot why they were running, laughing until their stomachs hurt, biting each other- hey, that's a sign of trust, right?- “Come on little shrimp…I got you ahead of time. You have to do your part of the bargain!”

“You cheated Floyd! I made the deal with you and not Jade-

“I was just passing by and coincidentally tripped over it just as our dear Yuu was running. Oh, I'm so sorry. What a tragedy.” With her hand on her chest, Jade helped her to get up from the ground, but her smile had nothing innocent about it.

“Don't even come with that Jade-” not here you felaa-” Floyd, it was supposed to be you alone but since I'm in a good mood today let's do this: I'll tell you where Riddle is NOT and you can hug me more…”

“What a good treat Koebii~” Floyd didn't need any more words to convince him, throwing his tall frame on top of Yuu and her brother, taking them to the ground.

But she was used to the twins' unpredictable tendencies. After all, 1 year had passed since his arrival. When she arrived in this strange world, everything was very “strange” for her, so much so that reality only dropped three days later, and when it did, all she could think about was hiding in a dark corner of the abandoned house.

The sun was setting when they got up, after laughing and talking about various topics Yuu would probably regret someday. After so much brutality, Floyd extended a gentle hand for his friend to stand up, his eyes widening as he realized—

“Neee~Koebi-chan, you're getting heavy and meaty too!” happily he comments

“Hunhun, and it looks stronger fufu. It ran a lot further this time and endured my brother's hugs longer” Jade congratulates her, looking at her legs and biceps that were no longer fragile matchsticks

“But if you grow too big, I won't be able to call you little shrimp anymore…ah! Ah! I know! If you grow any bigger I’ll call you the little lobster, okay?”

“Well, get ready, honey, I’m going to be a lobster!” determined Yuu hugs her friends and then says goodbye. She didn't know it, but there were eyes watching her...

A year later adaptation arrived, his body that had lost a lot of weight due to the excessive work of a certain crow and the constant stress that brought it, was weak and thin, but now with the balanced diet that Vil himself had prepared and physical exercises with Vargas she was able to get back to the body she was: strong, toned and curvy, she could keep up with the athletics group with Deuce and go for morning jogs with Jack - when Grim pushed her out of bed she inevitably woke up and by coincidence Jack was passing by Ramcharchle. Killing two with one stone.-

It was at the start of quiet sophomore year that her hair, once a shade of brown with golden, curly strands, was dyed night-black. Her hair was opaque before and didn't reach her chin, as the foreigner used her impulsive cuts as a defense mechanism, saying it was "not to draw attention". A year later, her hair was bust-length, shiny and perfectly brushed and styled.

At first glance, her ties were deepened here, but there was a symbolism behind it that left your mouth bitter. Her natural hair was her memory of home, something that says "I'm not from here, I have a place to go back". Crowley was the one who came up with the idea "Well, if you're going to stay longer, why don't you look like your beloved director who welcomed you as a father figure, my little bird?" Crowley and Crewel became very attached to the girl, always taking care of the puppy with affection but with hugs that didn't allow her to go very far. .

In her second year, she improved her beast taming capabilities. Occasionally, she is seen piloting a great blue dragon through the skies, or combing the fur of a dangerous chimera, or stopping Grim from stuffing his mouth with fish at Scarabia's dinner. The latter, he finds to be the most useful skill.

Not far from there, Riddle had finished his Riding training, saying goodbye elegantly to his colleagues and walking to the Heartstabull...unfortunately he didn't get there.

Trim..trim…

'Huh? Call from Carter?' - In the middle of her sacred coffee with Grim, Yuu receives a call from her senior, Carter Diamond. What would the magicam star want at a time like this?

-Hello? It's Yuu, all right senpai? -A-ahh Yuu, I need you to come to the dorm now! -Is it really necessary? I put my coffee on now… -What Yuu?? I'm not l-l- istening! Something… interfering… -The toast is warm too…want to have a coffee with me? -I'm serious Yuu! It's- an emergency! Come quickly!

And hung up…

Her precious coffee was already in the cup filled to the top, waiting to be taken and enjoyed by the tired student, but the agitated and trembling voice of the so cheerful Carter made her take only three sips worriedly, leaving quickly with Grim meowing that the toast would get cold. Until a hoarse, frightening scream interrupted her mind and the thousand scenarios of what could be happening.

“How strang-!!!”- Yuu gasps, clutching Grim protectively in her arms, despite being flustered the girl takes a moment to record the image of the sound maker, who was on an old pole near the house.

It was a white bird, a type of owl with a heart-shaped face and eyes like completely black spheres, then a hook-shaped beak. The creature turns 160 degrees and stares at Yuu and Grim, the girl feels a shiver run down her spine and a bad feeling settles in her stomach but….

Yuu decides that with so many fantastical creatures and so many overblots, a white owl is the least of her problems right now and continuing on her way more quickly she thinks back to what could have happened in the dorm, which she considered her second home.

Of all her imagined scenarios none came close to the vision in front of her.

Riddle was lying on the floor. His body pale and icy. His eyes were completely white, without corneas, without irises and without pupils. His red hair was an aged shade of red, as if all of his life had been sucked out of him. Veins, now transparent, pulsing reluctantly to life and bringing a barely existent low breath, no signs of waking up.

“Carter! What's going on? What happened to Riddle?”- one of the clones of the red haired one grabbed Yuu who ran when he saw the scene and tried to calm her down, while Trey covered his fallen friend's body with a jacket.

“Riddle took a long time to come back, 15min late. This has never happened before.”- Trey replied from afar.

“We arrived here and when we saw his state, we called you and the Director”- completed Carter, who was trying to take Yuu to check the body, he himself didn't have the courage- “We cast an invisible barrier spell, and we waited for the director to arrive to take him quickly to the infirmary.” he concluded.

“What do you think it could be?”

“I don't know, I've never seen anything like it. It must have been something really strong to catch him off guard and leave him with…”- swallowing the fear and sadness trapped in his throat, the green-haired one tries to continue, being the responsible senpai ever-”… with that expression. terrified in the face.”

There were no signs of violence on the body, no spell fighting, no signs of poisoning. Grim didn't smell any different, saying it was the same as the one in the library.

“Let's sort this out, guys.”- giving one last look at his friend, Yuu puts his jacket over him again and stands up to look and investigate.

They checked every inch of that area, but the wind blew a small white feather from the enclosure.

You are here Next>>

[imasadboi]

Raise The Stakes

Next

.

CW: Blood, violence, stalking, kidnapping, death, vampirism, sex, blood drinking, drugging (with blood), ooc Leon, cutting (palm), (more to be added as series goes on).

Summary: Leon, a vampire turned against his will, believes he can get everything he lost through you. He will have you, not even your fiancé would deter him.

Word Count: 1,257

.

Hi, this will be my first fully fledged series. I've been working hard on this for this past month and intend to do weekly uploads. (If not weekly, then bi-weekly!) I hope you enjoy and look forward to future chapters. And don't ask for pings, please. Simply follow my blog to get future updates.

That night still rings in his mind like discordant notes—the night he was turned. His gums ache and his hands clench into tight fists as the memory threatens to replay in detail. All it took for his family to be lost to the hands of Death was a rogue vampire, a spawn of the Devil. By the cruel hands of fate, he was spared and awoke to the grim sight of his mother’s throat torn to shreds and bloodied. His father had his head torn from his body, the bone sticking out from the gaping wound. His younger sister’s body was nowhere to be found—at first. It wasn’t even a short walk down the road until he saw the way that beast had torn his beloved sister’s dress apart before doing the same to her mortal flesh. He cried out in agony at what had befallen his poor family.

Worst of all, the scent of iron hung cloyingly in the air. His new hunger was made known to him in brutal fashion. His mind was befuddled, as both human and beastly instincts fought to dominate his actions. As his new instincts took over, his nails elongated almost painfully from the roots. His canines grew longer causing his gums to chafe from the rapid growth. Senses heightened and everything became too much at once; The thought to give in crossed his mind at that moment.

But the one thing that held him true despite his entire being changing; rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. Whether God had decided to show him mercy that night or not, it was due to this feeling that kept him tethered to his humanity. Even through unabating hunger and lines of drool slipping down his chin, he steadily buried each family member. As he sought to repair the wreckage of his family home, he noticed the silver chain that lay on the floor, its only pendant, a dainty cross. His fingers burned upon contact, before he ripped a piece of cloth from his already torn shirt and picked it up. He held it close to him for a moment before pocketing it. He wouldn’t rest until that vampire had paid for what he’d done.

Leon regains his bearings as he’s finally released from the memories of his past. From his palms, rivulets of blood flow freely. He quickly rids himself of his tight grip, nails no longer digging into soft flesh. He grimaces at how he’s let 100 years slip by without any progress. Sure, he’s hunted down other vampires yet the one he looks for never seems to be around. He shakes his head in frustration, his obsession beginning to crawl back into his mind like a decrepit parasite when a wave of nausea washes over him. Hunger. How long ago did he feed? He can’t recall. Time no longer ties him to this plane of existence. What would be the point in keeping track of the seasons, of the sun rising and falling when he can no longer feel its rays on his skin—skin that’s become paler with each passing day.

He grimaces how foreign his thoughts have become, how less human he’s become. But now’s not the time to be thinking of his ever fading humanity. He needs to eat. All he really needs is himself, so he gets up from the throne he’s sat on. He dusts off imaginary dirt from his lap and sets off to find yet another poor animal to claim as his victim. If there was one thing he’d swore never to do was feed on a human. 

Can’t really uphold that promise if I keep starving myself, he thinks. I wonder if it’ll be wolves or unsuspecting deer on the menu tonight. 

Finally out of the castle—one that was so graciously empty—his eyes linger onto the forest that lies ahead. Just as he’s about to take a step, he hears hushed voices. Part of him feels annoyed that someone’s decided trespassing was a suitable nighttime activity but his curiosity also gets the best of him. He makes his way towards the voices, keeping to the shadows. 

“We really shouldn’t be out here,” a voice says quietly, yet with the night so hushed, they might as well have been yelling. 

“We’ll be fine, you know you don’t have to be scared with me around, right?”

Leon hears the hesitance in the other’s voice just before they speak, “I know but there’s been more animal attacks as of lately. I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“You have such an imagination, but that’s what I’ve always liked about you. I didn’t want us to miss this chance to be together with all the wedding planning that’s been going on. I’ve missed you. Missed us being alone together.”

Leon feels a pang of jealousy as his confliction has yet again robbed him of something so precious. Something he as a vampire will never get to have again. He moves to get a closer look at the couple before him when he carelessly steps on a layward branch. He holds his breath, more  out of habit than anything, as he quickly moves to obscure himself.

“Did you hear that?” The first voice asks.

“Hear what?” Leon hopes the second person might convince the both of them to continue with their walk but the first voice pipes in again.

“Is anybody there?” Leon decides to keep quiet, hoping they both lose interest.

“See, it was nothing, let’s just keep walking. We only have so much time before we have to head back.”

Leon listens to the pair of footsteps walk away but that ache in his chest doesn’t seem to go away.

Would it really be so bad to keep an eye on them? Leon deliberates as his feet follow after them, I just have to make sure they stay safe. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to convince himself of, the morality of stalking after a couple or if he’s really doing this with their best interest at heart. 

He follows them for some time, keeping a good few paces behind so as to not arouse suspicion. It’s only when they stop to settle down in the grass does he catch sight of them both. The first he sees is a man, dark-haired and brown-eyed. He’s got a smile on his face as he talks to his partner, you. 

The moon hangs high in the sky and perfectly illuminates your being to Leon. His eyes widen a fraction as he takes in your appearance. The smile you reflect back at your partner tugs at his heart. He can’t help but want it for himself. He’d do anything to have it all for himself. A feeling cements itself in his brain, he had everything he loved taken away from him in an instant. But you, he could have you, right? It doesn’t matter that you’re engaged to be married.

You would be his, no matter what it took. But acting too hastily is ill-advised, he knows capturing you had to be done with care and planning. And most of all, he had to make sure nothing and no one would get in his way, that included your so-called fiancé.

He memorizes your scent carried over to him by the wind. A slight shiver runs down his spine. He lingers to take one more glance at you before departing. He makes quick work of dinner and walks directly back to his abode. His dead heart beating in anticipation of what’s to come.

[aladaylessecondblog]

the life you knew before (good tav/gortash pt. 4)

Previous chapter here

Banter, and sex (obviously). Enjoy :)

---------------------------------------

Tav stood, mind off like a shot. Cazador she had seen several times in the eight months she had been Duchess Gortash, and somehow it had entirely slipped her mind to talk to him about...the situation.

How, how could I forget about CAZADOR?

The same way you forgot about ME, my dear, returned Astarion's voice in her head.

"Lord Szarr," Tav gave a slight curtsy, "A pleasure to see you. I almost didn't recognize you, so rarely do I see you outside your palace."

"And so rarely do any see you outside the city."

"True enough," she replied, "I've had so much to do...but I have had rather a...taxing day. I found time in nature and with...old friends...a better prospect than remaining behind stone walls."

Cazador did not respond to that, but took a step forward and looked down on the gravestone.

"Were you--"

"Who is this Halsin?" he interrupted and gestured at the carving atop the headstone. "Don't tell me Astarion went and wed himself to a bear."

"A druid...he did love to stay in his wildshape much of the time. Were you...familiar with Astarion?"

She hated to pretend it, but she also knew it was a good idea to act as though she did not know what he was. For now.

"Perhaps we might call him a bastard son, for certainly he acted like one. Running off like a slave, cavorting with--animals..."

Is he daring me to say something?

Cazador then turned those eyes on her. "And you say you loved him."

"I--did, yes. Before I met the Archduke, of course." She looked at the gravestone and gave a soft smile. "It was strange how long it took to earn his trust. He was running from something, I think."

"He always was a fearful sort. I assume you were the one to bury him? The one to make this gravestone?"

Tav took a deep breath before she answered. "I was, yes."

"Quite frankly, it surprises me that you would bother."

His voice was so severe; it made her think she'd done something wrong. She resented the feeling, but tried to keep her tone polite.

"Every man deserves a proper grave," she replied evenly. "I did not know him long, but...for that time, he was..."

It had started with wanting him, as she was sure he had intended. Then it had become oh-so-much more, and now...now, she didn't know.

She bowed her head just slightly.

"One might think you are unhappy in your marriage, if you pine so over a dead man," Cazador said then. "I cannot think the Archduke would approve."

"He knows of this...former romance. And he knows--" Tav gulped just slightly before going on, "--he knows, really, that 'tis he who holds my heart now. It is just that every so often...I think of the past, and what might have been."

"A life in the trees amongst the beasts is not fit to be lived." The sternness had a slight edge in it now, "You are lucky to have the Archduke to show you that there is more to life than speaking to those who have nothing to say worth hearing."

"It would have been good enough for me. My poor pale elf could have used a few colorful flowers in his hair."

With that she turned and began to walk away.

(The spawn who had been holding the umbrella over her head seemed to tense; she actually saw his eyes widening into fear when she looked.)

"I wasn't done speaking to you," Cazador said.

"I was done listening." It was out before she could stop it.

"One might think badly of a lady who makes so free with those above her."

"The only man above me is the Archduke, Lord Szarr. Unless you have plans to ascend to a crown."

She turned back briefly.

"One never knows what might happen," Cazador said in a darker tone, "I am surprised, you know, that you have so sharp a tongue. I expected nothing like this from so subservient a woman."

"I am such to my husband and no one else."

It was the last thing she said to him as she walked away. There was a strange thrill and yet a fear with it when she heard Cazador seething.

-----------------------------------

"Someone's been acting up today."

Tav had been standing by the window, staring out at the ships passing on the water for nearly an hour when she felt Gortash's hands on her hips.

"Your lady is only feverish," she said quietly, "An illness she caught tending to the needs of the people..."

"Of course she will require several days of rest to recover. After all, her loyalty is well known...and anything that could make her say such terrible things in earshot of others, well..."

It was easy, so easy, to relax into his touch. To gently cover the hands that slid forward and around the bump of her belly and feel...well, she didn't know what she was feeling. But she couldn't think that it was wrong anymore.

And even that fact was not scary any longer.

"When are you going to grow angry?" Tav asked after a long silence. "Throw something, perhaps...or have me locked away for making you look foolish?"

"Is that what you think of me?" Gortash's voice was softer than she had yet heard it. "I wasn't lying when I told you that you had nothing to fear from me."

Please... She gulped softly and begged silently, as she had been begging for months now. Stop being like this. Like someone I could...

To distract herself Tav looked out the window. The sun was setting in brilliant reds and golds, with a single dark ship passing on the horizon.

"You were a decision I made in haste, and I presume the same could be said from your position. But must you keep yourself in this state of agony? I'm sure you don't wish to be there." There was the lightest of grips at her belly. "And it's certainly not good for the child."

Deep breath.

She thought of Astarion, the first time he was comfortable participating in the lovemaking with Halsin. The first time she had woken up with the two of them. The last smiles she'd seen from either of them.

Then...

Then those thoughts turned to Gortash. The dances she had with him at the wedding, the smiles he gave at balls later on...the way he went about showing his interest. He was for every appearance a perfect gentleman...except in the bedroom, where he did things that made her weak in the knees. Where he left her wanting only to push her to greater heights of desire.

And where of late she slept beside him more often than not.

Tav opened her eyes and saw that the ship on the horizon was gone.

"You have not been what I expected," Tav replied, "Everything since the tadpole has been an endless series of unpleasant surprises. I could scarcely lay down my head without being woken by some problem, some fight...and then...then I lost everything."

Where was this coming from? Why was she saying all this this? She hardly knew. Her emotions were a horrible typhoon centered around the calm that he'd created. She had now been his wife longer than she had ever been with Astarion or Halsin...and there was a space shaped like him forming in her mind.

"I'm afraid to be at rest." she added "Because when all is quiet..."

She waited--waited for some mocking, some cutting remark she was sure was coming. But none did.

Deep breath.

"The nastiness comes out. My poor bride, dealing with so much...and alone. You really needn't do that. After all, how well can you help me handle this city if you are so burdened?"

"I didn't know whether I could trust you then...and now...and now..."

"We should lay down," Gortash said, "Clearly, you're in need of rest."

Tav relaxed and allowed herself to be lead to her bed, and was glad when he joined her. Even more so when she realized he was clad as he had been that first night, with one difference--this time, he wasn't wearing the gauntlet. Just that pair of black trousers...

"Something set this off," he said gently in her ear. "I want to know what set it off."

"I..." she took a deep breath as Gortash reached a hand up to stroke at her face. "I visited the...the grave, and...there's something--someone you should know about. I was...afraid to mention it because he's..."

"Did he harm you?"

"No, but...he could be dangerous to you at some point soon. I forgot all about him with the...the uh...what lead to my marrying you."

She was glad. So very, very glad, that he was really listening to her right now.

"Cazador." Tav said, "He was...Astarion's...sire. A vampire...and one of the most abusive pieces of shit I've ever heard of, if the way Astarion acted was any indication. I had been planning to deal with him--"

"Unsurprising," Gortash replied, "The man was always odd and reclusive, and while I had my suspicions..."

"And I may have upset him by not...paying him what he saw as his due. He's planning some sort of ritual..."

Here she explained what she knew of Cazador and his plans for ascension, and while Gortash quickly began to look more severe, at least he didn't vent any of that potential anger on her.

"I must inform the guards about that. Noble or not, I'll not have him steal what I've worked so hard for." He smirked slightly and pressed a brief kiss to her lips. "And I'll not have YOU risking either your life or my heir's by going after him."

"I've helped imprison Mizora--the former patron of the Grand Duke. I've assisted in the killing of a cambion..."

"Really, now."

"Raphael never stood a chance. Foolish man...and very stupid, too, telling me he had something I wanted, and by extension where to find it WITHOUT taking his deal."

There was something in Gortash's face then that she had never seen before.

Shock.

"I...presume...that you are not talking about th--"

"Raphael of the House of Hope, the one who wanted me to hand over the crown to him so he could become king of the hells or something along those lines."

"And you are...quite certain...that he is dead?"

"Certain as the sunrise," Tav replied. "He'd been a smoothtalking pain in my ass for too long for me NOT to kill him."

A pause...and then, from nowhere--one second, Gortash was laying beside her, looking her in the eye. The next, his lips were on hers and he was moving over her.

"Eager," she got out quickly, and when he let her break for air she added, "Aren't we?"

He didn't answer. There was a pause, and then, in rather an awkward dance she reached down to pull up the hem of her gown as his hands moved down to rid himself of his trousers.

"Off," he demanded, once he was bare before her, as he tugged her gown up and over her head. He yanked off her underclothes and moved atop her, planting another hot kiss on her lips.

Tav returned the kiss, and awkwardly shifted beneath Gortash as she spread her legs for him. And despite the awkward maneuvering due to her swollen belly, they contented themselves like this for several minutes.

He seemed to want to say something at one point--but then apparently thought better of it, and settled for pressing his hard cock against her wet heat and thrusting inwards a moment later. Tav groaned, and reached up, wanting to hold SOMETHING. Her hands ended up on his shoulders.

"Please," she said, meeting his eyes, "I want--"

It was what usually excited him. Her begging, pleading to be fucked, yet somehow this time, she didn't need to say any more. He drew back and pushed forward in rapid thrusts that were pushing her high already from how deep they were hitting.

More, more, MORE

Tav's nails clenched at the skin of his shoulders, and her knees squeezed at his sides as his hips rocked against hers. Gods above, how badly she suddenly wanted to kiss him again!

But there would be none of that, only the repeated invasions of his cock, spearing and spreading her around him as he vented whatever in the hell this was.

"More," she moaned softly, "More..."

She needed him now, wanted to feel him within her, to be reminded of what passion lay behind that dark smirking face of his.

And he was going to give it to her.

Gortash's thrusts grew faster and faster still. He braced himself with one hand and lowered his face, only just far enough away from hers to prevent a kiss. But she could see it now, the expression, the desperate need for her, the agonizing pleasure he felt as the climb begin.

It was like he wanted her to see his ecstasy, to witness what he was drawing from her.

"Harder--"

It sparked suddenly, unexpectedly, and Tav forced herself to keep that eye contact as the pleasure seized and burned through her body in rapid wildfire.

"Oh, gods!"

She moaned for Gortash, let him hear her pleasure, let him see the look in her eyes as she let go. It lifted her high, so high, so achingly keen, and then dropped her back into the warm sea of the afterglow.

Faster, and faster still. She was still sensitive but he was thrusting hard, lust driving him onward with no coherent thought or reason other than fuck. She bore with it, bringing her heels up to dig into his ass and encourage him to go deeper still.

No moment of hesitation appeared, as sometimes it had since first they had been married.

Tav kept his gaze, and it was exhilarating. He was close, so close, and for once she was focused solely on that, on seeing his pleasure, taking it in in every sense of the word.

On an inward thrust, as he sheathed himself entirely inside her, it struck him. His cock pulsed and he went empty inside her in three warm waves of lusty heat that rose threatening to drown him.

Gingerly, Gortash withdrew from her and curled close, as though all the troubles of the world melted away with his head on her chest.

For all his scolding that she needed to relax, Tav realized--as she raised a hand to tangle its fingers in his hair--that this was the first time she had ever seen him do so.

[dani474]

Jiang Cheng, the Golden Core, and why it's love. [PART 1]

First off, this has been a topic on my mind for a few weeks now and I've finally gotten around to putting my thoughts into a document. I was sharing my thoughts through tags and little notes in my drafts, but after some lovely encouragement from @travalerray I decided I'd go ahead and do it.

This didn't have as much focus on the fandom, but nevertheless gets my thoughts on this character and his relationship to Wei Wuxian across.

On my methods here, I went back through the manhua (mostly because it's much easier to skim through and get clips from) and I was making the draft as I went. That document turned out to be around 26 pages/11,200 words. I finalized by reordering what I wrote to make it more coherent (I hope) and added the novel clips needed so this is going to be super long.

Here we go.

The very first thing we learn about Wei Wuxian is gossip. Nothing in the first chapter is from his or Jiang Cheng's point of view. While not discussed overmuch in this, gossip is a HUGE factor in why their family relationship is so strained, including why the children are treated in much a way. This, of course, affects how Jiang Cheng navigates the world and his relationship with Wei Wuxian.

When we take a look at their youth, we can see quite a lot about their dynamic. The cloud Recesses Arc shows us:

Even when he says this, Jiang Cheng follows Wei Wuxian around pretty often when he gets into trouble. Wei Wuixian often throws his arm around Jiang Cheng and teases him. They do the whole elbowing and tussling thing.

“...You’ve already buried my corpse so many times. There’s nothing wrong with once more.” - Wei Wuxian

“Shoo, shoo! Don’t let me know the next time you’re doing such a thing! Don’t ask me to watch either!” - Jiang Cheng, in reply.

It’s very casual, reflecting certain loose boundaries due to being raised in the same household and being very close in age, while also being a contrast to what’s expected of them as people know Wei Wuixian is the son of a servant. This is a conflicting status that permeates their relationship.

Loud talking, playing, and loud arguments are common among the Yunmeng folks due to the nature of the sect’s rules and culture.

This gives us some context as to why Wei Wuixian is often speaking frequently and loudly and doing things with a looser regard for rules/politics other than just personality. It also tells us why Jiang Cheng responding to teasing and annoyance the way he does wouldn't be very noteworthy in Yunmeng.

Loudness and freeness are part of the philosophy and -- despite what his parents think - Jiang Cheng does reflect that, outside of having learned his attitude from his mother. Just differently than Wei Wuxian does. I'll come back to that.

Anyway. We get another hint at the complicated relationship and status dynamic when Lan Xichen, on the topic of the Water Ghoul hunt, says: "the head disciple and son of sect leader Jiang are quite well-known in Yunmeng.” Usually, the heir would be referred to first.

On top of this, the current social culture during this period is gradually getting tenser. Lan Xichen silently pointing to the sky to imply the waterborne abyss was a result of the Qishan Wen Sect and the others immediately getting it shows how people have gotten used to being unable to speak openly about the things happening. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian talk quickly about how there will be no repercussions or acknowledgement, but otherwise do not speak of it out loud, much less by name in public.

Still, they are children, and no one truly comprehends the scope of the Wen sect’s actions yet. Up until the Indoctrination, the biggest issue between them was Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian’s treatment of them. They try their best to deal with it.

For example, I noticed that while Wei Wuxian is arguing, stepping forward while they talk about Yanli and the arranged marriage, he doesn’t actually punch Jin Zixuan until this:

He clearly doesn’t like that people think this and this defense is about both of the Jiang siblings.

I don’t really have to point out the camaraderie in Jiang Cheng checking on Wei Wuxian while he’s kneeling during his punishment. Despite the brashness, their whole conversation here is casual and holds no jealousy about the last comment Jin Zixuan made. 

From here though, we can see how their relationship beings to become more fractured and malformed.

To start, I want to talk about Jiang Cheng’s view of Wei Wuxian and the internal philosophy that stems from his position as a sect heir. We all know Jiang Cheng complains that Wei Wuxian gets involved in other people’s business (ex. water ghoul/waterborne abyss) and this plays into the idea that Wei Wuxian is attempting to be a hero. In response to Wei Wuxian worrying about Lan Wangji’s leg injury during the indoctrination, says: “Stay out of it if you know what’s good for you.” Considering how tenuous their position is right now, this is understandable. Standing out is not a good idea, however they have no idea that their situation is much worse than they’re assuming. This is because they don’t know the Cloud Recesses were attacked, so having the Indoctrination right after is incredibly worrisome. 

I’m pointing this out because it’s a fundamental difference in perspective that causes the most prominent issue between them. Jiang Cheng, like his parents, believes that if they stay out of Wen business and keep their heads down, nothing will happen, but they’re severely underestimating the Wen’s ambitions. We learn proof of this later, when Madam Yu is surprised to hear about the Supervisory Offices. Wei Wuxian, in contrast, responds to the immediate threat of the Indoctrination and is ultimately unable to strategize about the long-term political consequences.

On one hand, they’d work well as strategists, because Wei Wuxian can adapt on the fly very easily and Jiang Cheng can observe and move according to the politics overall, they do not have the luxury here. (And, as the result of canon, are unable to do so in the future.)

This is why YunmengJiang sect was so unprepared. The response to the Wen’s, from pretty much everyone, was to stay low and wait it out. The larger sects relied on their status but, unlike the LanlingJin sect, couldn’t buy patience or leniency from the Wen. Because the disciples don’t fully comprehend the scope of what’s going on, they can’t respond to anything outside of immediate circumstances and can't predict the consequences. This is an issue for every single one of them.

During the Indoctrination, the two of them argue over whether or not Wei Wuxian should carry Lan Wangji (after learning about the CR burning), and once again, Jiang Cheng approaches with a specific philosophy: “If we can’t take care of ourselves, how can we take care of other people’s difficulties?”

This, here, is why Wei Wuxian protecting the Wen’s leads to Jiang Cheng agreeing to a staged defection. He cannot protect his sect and Wei Wuxian if he continues to involve himself with the Wen remnants and their difficulties. That was not a lack of care, but quite literally a lack of strength. I'll come back to this with more detail later.

When Wei Wuxian wakes up in Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng is able to bicker with him a little about the Xuanwu, but becomes increasingly upset, even as he gives a congradulations.

His comment about how Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have helped Lan Wangji results in Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian arguing over Wei Wuxian being favored while their son and heir is treated like he cannot understand their sect’s motto. By both Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu's own words belittle their son, even as they argue about it.

Of course, Madam Yu is blaming Wei Wuxian for the issue, even though the thing that started the “rebellion” was MianMian being threatened with her life. She ran to hide behind Lan Wangji and Lan Zixuan. They guard her by their own choice and only block her. Jin Zixuan arguing with Wen Chao causes Wang Lingjiao to order the soldiers to attack. Only after that does Wei Wuxian unsettle Wen Chao by reciting one of their ancestors. It’s unsurprising that Madam Yu never bothers to learn the circumstances. Nor that she dismisses the threat that the Wen’s truly pose.

I'm not blaming her for the attack on Lotus Pier, only her willful misunderstanding of the situation.

I want to note something here.

“One day he’ll definitely land our clan in some serious trouble.”

“Sect leader Jiang, take a good look at your biological son. I’m sure you know about the rumors, that people think Wei Ying is your..”

Madam Yu is angry because of the rumors. She is angry at Wei Wuxian because people believe he is Jiang Fengmian’s bastard. That she's been disrespected and dishonored. Jiang Cheng is upset because his father hates his mother – and by extension, him – and favors Wei Wuxian as a result. That's not even getting into his father's feelings for Canse Sanren.

Jiang Cheng is hurt and jealous because Wei Wuxian is noted as being able to follow the sect motto while he is scolded for not being able to. Here, his actions after the indoctrination went unsupported and unacknowledged. This is a very reasonable thing to be upset about. Pitting people so close in age, especially those raised together, is super unhealthy -- not to mention unfair-- especially for the one overshadowed.

Like how Yu Ziyuan can't seem to break out of Canse Sanren's shadow in her husband's eyes, or even the eyes of the public due to the favoritism, Jiang Cheng cannot either. Are their reactions always proportional? No, but there is a reason behind them.

Wei Wuxian responds by reassuring Jiang Cheng that even if he doesn’t understand or follow the sect motto by tradition, he can still be a great sect leader. This calms Jiang Cheng down enough that Wei Wuxian can put an arm around his shoulders again.

Here, Wei Wuxian promises: “In the future, you’ll be the sect leader and I’ll be your subordinate, just like your father and mine.”

I want to talk about what Wei Wuxian is actually saying here.

Yes, they can be the Twin Prides of Yunmeng, but the position he offers is one of servitude. Literally. 

In an attempt to reduce the tension between them, he leans into the perception that he is the son of a servant and offers to fulfill that role for Jiang Cheng* as his father had (“Wei Changze–Jiang Fengmian’s most loyal servant.”). Wei Wuxian is not doing this from a place of self-depreciation (as we know from how he talks about his parentage) but is probably an unconscious comparison to make Jiang Cheng feel less threatened. As head disciple, he shouldn’t really compare it to their father's relationship or positions, but he does. I don’t think Jiang Cheng caught it. 

*This is an issue that will crop up again later.

Half a month after the disciples returned from the indoctrination, Wang Lingjiao comes to Lotus Pier. They use an archery target as “proof” that a younger disciple is plotting against the Wen sect. This already tells us they just want an excuse to start trouble.

Then, Wang Lingjiao says she came to punish someone (WWX). She actually uses the rumors about Wei Wuxian’s parentage to goad Madam Yu into listening to her, by implying that protecting Wei Wuxian would be lending credit to them. This is a great example of how gossip has a huge influence on how people are perceived and the power it can wield over certain politics. 

Madam Yu does whip Wei Wuxian, saying: “...hadn’t I told you, long ago, you…unruly thing! Sooner or later, you’ll bring trouble to the Jiang clan!” Note the dehumanizing language.

Jiang Cheng is trying to stop his mother but is physically restrained by her two servants.

“While Madam Yu always pelted him with hostile words, she’d never really hit him hard before—two or three lashes at most, or being made to kneel or confined indoors, and it never took Jiang Fengmian long to release him from that. But this time, he took dozens of hits from that whip, each lash so hard his back burned with pain until it went numb.”

Remember, he ends up walking around and carrying Jiang Cheng with these injuries. He didn't truly complain about his injuries during the Indoctrination, and he doesn't -- even once -- complain here.

After finishing, she tells Wang Lingjiao that it would take at least a month to heal. When WLJ says she can chop off one of his arms and be left alone, Madam Yu genuinely looks to be considering it.  Jiang Cheng breaks away from the servant’s and covers Wei Wuxian’s body, telling his mother: “...It’s not like what she said at all…” [Regardless of what Jiang Cheng says in the immediate aftermath of seeing Lotus Pier, this is what he thought.]

Besides that, the only reason she didn’t was because Wang Lingjiao mentioned the Supervisory Office. Jiang Cheng trying to hold her in place doesn’t seem to deter her at all.

We could talk all day about the parenting of Madam Yu (and Jiang Fengmian), but it's not the point here, so I'll go on.

It takes two hours for Lotus Pier to be annihilated. That’s it. 

 Right after, he starts to cry because he wants his parents.

While his actions here were hurtful, it is not entirely intentional or malicious. Logically, he understands there was little to stop them from coming, but emotions won’t be soothed by that, so all he has is his pain and rage.

And once Jiang Cheng is rescued from Lotus Pier. Well.

Wei Wuxian mentions his self-esteem for a reason.

“I want revenge but…I don’t have a golden core anymore. How can I get revenge now? Core-melting hand. Hahahahahaha. Core-melting hand. Wei Wuxian, why did you save me? To let me live in this and understand that I can’t change anything?!”

He’s literally having a breakdown due to trauma and stress.

He attacks Wen Ning and is worried that Wei Wuxian brought them into a trap (fair concern). He chokes Wei Wuxian again for a moment before Wen Qing steps in. Jiang Cheng was mostly laughing and shouting here, and I have no idea (am given no indication even later) if he remembers any of this.

They stay in Yiling for 3 days and Jiang Cheng looks…Well dead inside. He’s mostly distant now that his initial rage is dampened. Wei Wuxian brings his spirit up by mentioning the golden core. Note here that Wei Wuxian wants to get revenge as well. He wants Jiang Cheng to be able to get his revenge. He went out of his way to do research in the novels to help achieve this. I don’t think I have to elaborate on why this is a contributing factor in the Golden Core Transfer.

Wei Wuixian leads Jiang Cheng to the mountain and says he can receive a golden core with the help of Baoshan Sanren, and remains there for 7 days. We don’t see Wei Wuxian’s thought process in the manhua, and I'll go into more detail later.

Unfortunately, when he tries to go to the town and into a winehouse, he gets cornered by Wen Chao and his goonies. Then you know, the burial mounds happened.

There's so much happening after Wei Wuxian's return, but for the most part, their personal relationship remains quite good.

 Look at how happy Jiang Cheng is to see Wei Wuxian again. His words are fond.

Wei Wuxian looks tired and less happy, but not upset either. Unsurprisingly, Jiang Cheng's response to worry and relief is to yell a bit and lightly punch him. It's not at all malicious and is typical of close male friends.

When Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have *their* typical brand of misunderstanding here, Jiang Cheng is quick to step between them and support Wei Wuxian as his sect leader.

This is the first time he's given the opportunity to do so, and yet, during the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, we see Jiang Cheng overhearing gossip, having the strength of the Yunmeng Jiang sect attributed to Wei Wuxian, once again with no acknowledgement of his work to rebuild the sect. His insecurities over this are deeply rooted, but the more external pressure he faces over it, the deeper the wedge between them becomes.

[We hear Jin Guangyao point out the weakness of this wedge outright, years later, but it's still surprising to see how much manipulation was going into that, and how much is due to sect weakness.]

In the aftermath of Wei Wuxian liberating Qionqi path, Jiang Cheng attempts to soothe the distrust and anger shown by the other sects, but Jin Guangshan specifically plays at his insecurities and lack of support to guide him to abandoning Wei Wuxian.

Stating: “Wei Ying is your right-hand man. You value him a lot. However, whether or not he respects a sect leader like you is hard to tell. During the flower banquet, he dared to throw a fit right in front of you. Yesterday, he was even more presumptuous with his back on you.” 

JGS continues: “He even dared to say something like ‘I never look up to Jiang Wanyin, this sect leader! --” and this is an outright lie. Lan Wangji tries to push against this; however, the Jin’s follow up with their own additions and ultimately speak louder. 

MianMian struggles with this as well, when she tries to defend WWX’s actions at Qionqi path. Her words, of course, are dismissed due to misogyny, more so than sect power dynamics. Even so, her words here are extremely relevant: “Fine! Your voices are louder! Fine! You’re the rational ones!”

Her statement here is exactly why this happens:

He does not have the political backing nor experience to outweigh everyone else, and their voices are so loud that his words end up carrying no meaning and no weight. Look at the expression there. He's not even frustrated, he just seems sideswept by it.

Jiang Cheng did not want to. He supported Wei Wuxian and was trying to protect the Wen’s due to Wen Ning and Wen Qing’s support. He is ultimately outweighed and outnumbered, regardless of how true Wei Wuxian’s claims about the prisoners or Jiang Cheng’s promises of alliance actually are. 

Initially, Jiang Cheng's visit to the burial mound is pretty non-judgmental. it's not until they being to discuss Wen Ning that the fractures forming show.

“Don’t you know how many eyes are watching you right now? We burn this corpse right now and return all of these remnants of the Wen sect, that way people will stop talking!”

We can talk all we want about Wei Wuxian’s goal here, but Jiang Cheng is in a completely different position. He’s a young, inexperienced sect leader and his sect is still diminished. Wei Wuxian is not trusted and the only people who spoke in support of either of them were shouted into silence. Right now, he does not have the room to think about how to protect the Wens, only how to reduce the backlash Wei Wuxian and his sect will face for it. 

Not to mention, those in power fear Wei Wuxian’s strength while also seeking his Stygian Tiger Seal. 

Everyone is familiar with this panel. But I think people often ignore its context (or its actual meaning entirely) when discussing Jiang Cheng as a character. He is taking Wei Wuxian’s side. He’s also saying that Wei Wuxian’s attempts at justice will not be regarded positively.

“Do you want me to say it clearer? If you insist on protecting them, then I won’t be able to protect you.” 

Wei Wuxian is the one who decides that Jiang Cheng – and the Jiang sect – should not protect him. Jiang Cheng never even implied such. In fact, he says the opposite. This is relevant because it speaks to how their goals, restrictions, and philosophies are different.

Jiang Cheng wants to protect his sect and stay out of other people’s business as they do not have the political clout or manpower to support anyone else. Wei Wuxian has no limitations because he no longer plays an active role as head disciple, and his own moral compass tells him that it’s more important to protect the Wens – the people currently facing an injustice – over safety. Both of them are unwilling to give up on their goal of protecting someone, and the current situation doesn’t allow for much compromise between these two things. Protecting the Wens automatically makes Wei Wuxian’s goal a threat to the current powers and Jiang Cheng knows it.

That doesn't mean he wanted to denounce Wei Wuxian, though.

And yes, he snarks here about Wei Wuxian understanding the Jiang sect motto more than him but has no space to linger on it. Instead, he proposes for a duel.

I want to point out that Jiang Cheng has no idea what the state of the prison camps were like as he had no chance to actually investigate. All he has is Wei Wuxian’s claims and everyone else’s scorn and manipulations.

Also, him stabbing Wei Wuxian can look pretty bad, but remember, Jiang Cheng does not know about the Golden Core Transfer, so he has no way to gauge the risks properly. And considering Wen Ning was involved in the duel for at least some of it, not using his sword would immediately give them away. Zidian is likely avoided because it’s a bit too. hm. Real.

The emotions driving their actions are genuine, even if the duel itself was staged.

In the end, it came down to protection for justice and debt (to Wen Qing and Wen Ning) vs. protection for security and stability.

This is a conversation between LWJ and WWX, but at its core is the whole issue:

“To be honest, I’d like to ask as well. If not like this, what else can I do? Give up the demonic path? Then what about the people on this mountain? Give them up? I can’t do that. Neither can you.* Is there anyone who could give me a nice broad road to walk on? A road where, even without the ghost path, I could still protect the ones I wish to protect.”

*And neither could Jiang Cheng. He can't give up on his sect.

Wei Wuxian holds no grudge over this because there was not really any other option. Because of the communication issues between them in general, they could not have had such a frank question of their options. Lan Wangji does not have the external pressure of a sect on his shoulders restricting him and he’s clearly weighing the risks. Jiang Cheng can care as much as he wants and can want to protect Wei Wuxian with all his strength, but unless they could talk like this and could open another path, they wouldn’t have been able to fulfill both goals.

Even after their duel though, Jiang Cheng arranged for Wei Wuxian to locate him and see Yanli in her wedding robes. He’s the one who got the idea of Wei Wuxian giving Jin Ling his courtesy name. Despite all circumstances, he’s still trying to keep Wei Wuxian as part of their lives. They even talk about the duel they had in a casual way. You can take Jiang Cheng's brutish words at face value, but his actions are telling us how much he cares, and his circumstances are telling us how much of a struggle it actually is. He even warns Wei Wuxian of it.

He adds: “You never listen to any of my opinions. One day, you’ll come to understand that what I said was right.” Fandom often mentions Jiang Cheng’s arrogance but let’s be real, Wei Wuxian is severely underestimating the dangers around him, and Jiang Cheng is right. Because he’s involved with the current politics, he can see that people will not be willing to leave them alone. 

They get one year of peace. No more.

The saddest thing is Jin Zixuan had genuinely invited Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling’s one month banquet. None of them could have even imagined that Jin Zixun would set up an ambush, nor did anyone know about Jin Guangyao playing behind the curtains for his father. Due to lack of information, they had no way to prepare. Wei Wuxian struggling to manage his emotional response to the situation is only one factor. Jin Zixuan wouldn't have been there without someone influencing him to.

By the way, Wei Wuxian being blamed for something he didn’t do, with no opportunity to defend himself proves Jiang Cheng’s point. He didn’t do anything for a year. And he was still the villain somehow. They did not care to figure out the truth. They already decided Wei Wuxian was guilty and that his death would be justified.

As a result, Wen Ning and Wen Qing sacrifice themselves in hope that the Lanling Jin sect will leave Wei Wuxian alone. The themes of love and sacrifice are repeated to us again.

I have no idea why Yanli would be at a siege conference, but she was. She went outside searching for Wei Wuxian specifically because she wanted to see him, and because she wanted to help him. When it comes to each other, the three of them are very impulsive and irrational. This is very much a mutual issue.

She saw a threat to her A-Xian, even as he began to stop the corpses, and jumped to defend him. She would’ve been safe had she stayed in JC’s arms (or WWX’s in the novels, I think), but it was instinctive.

[And again.]

I’m not surprised this, of all things, would severely damage Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's relationship. And using the Stygian Tiger Seal makes sense in context, but now, there’s nothing that can convince the others to leave the Burial mounds alone. Jiang Cheng wouldn't be able to argue for rehabilitation even if he tried.

The fact that this siege ends in Wei Wuxian's death and still isn't the end of their relationship is just. yeah. I'll be going over that in part 2.

LINK TO PART 2

[what-the--curtains]

Fire & Ice

Chapter 6 - Dances & Diatribes

(Robb Stark x f!Targaryen!Reader)

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

Summary: Tenuous bridges are built with the arrival of a wedding present from across the Narrow Sea. Bridges that are tested by a visit to the Vale

Authors note: She's Baaaaaaaack (by unpopular demand) Let me know if you want to be untagger I know I've been gone a while!

TW: Fighting, Swearing (maybe?), mentions of blood, hallucinations, alcohol

Taglist: @kittykylax @winxschester @mihrimahsultan03 @stargaryenx @the-desilittle-bird @roselibrary @luxlisbonlover @r1dd1kulus

Word count: 5.1k

Playlist

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

Snow dusts the foliage around you. The quiver hangs on your back, reigns grasped loosely. A hushed barter with a stable boy allowing your escape for a few hours most mornings. ​​The woods are silent this hour. You basque in the quiet knowing the men would soon return from the front. The sky glows copper as the sun rises, blood has been spilled. 

You slow your horse to a walk stopping when tracks appear in the distance. Three pronged digits jut out from a large base, the prints were uncanny, unfamiliar, distorted. The air goes silent as you raise your bow. No birds chirped above, no crunch of the frosted ground beneath you, no wisp of the wind. 

Nothing. Not even the sound of your own breath reached your ears. 

Something is watching you. 

 You turn and a chill shoots down your spine, every hair on your neck lifted. Your heartbeat fills the empty space as cold breath hits your neck. You grab an arrow and drive it backwards, but it falls to the ground imprinting in the snow that dusted the remaining grass, the sound of the forest returning. 

Your hand reaches back again and you fire into the nearby bush pheasants flocking upwards and you shoot two down.

You were spending too much time alone, too much time with your head buried in books full of tales meant to scare children. The chilling legends that had always managed to find themselves lodged in your head.  These occurrences were the last thing you needed, a senseless distraction. 

You prayed Jorah's return with the rest of the men would settle you, though you hesitate to share your visions with him considering your lineage. Unless it progressed further, it was best kept a secret. 

In addition to the sense of comfort you hoped Jorah would provide insight into Talisas departure, you had your suspicions but you weren't one to breathe life into rumour before it was fact. The thoughts are fleeting and they dissipate as you dismount inside the stable. Coming forward to thank the mare for her efforts.

“Thank you for lending her to me, and for your discretion,” you say to the sable haired boy appearing from the shadows of a stall he was cleaning. He smiles, but it drops slightly as footsteps approached. Had it followed you back from the woods? You look over your shoulder to see Robb freshly returned from war, unwashed and bloodied. 

“Fear not, he is not nearly as ferocious as he looks, and he only turns into a wolf on the battlefield” you whisper to the boy who smiles. 

“You ride?” Robb asks, rinsing his hands of blood in a nearby barrel. 

“A long time ago, in another life,” you admit, your wedding gift from Drogo passing through your mind. You hand the saddle to the boy who runs off as quickly as he came. 

“You're working in the stables now, is he sharing his pay with you?” Robb asks. 

“Yes, and you should pay him more, it's hard work. Do not blame him I am very convincing,”

“Seems people find you impossible to refuse,” 

“I can think of at least one person always ready to refuse me,” 

“Your lack of broken neck suggests you ride well, you should take your pick'' Robb states, “save for the white mare, she's mine. ” he relays storking the creature's speckled face, one of his fathers final gifts to him.

“She’s beautiful, do the rest not have owners,” you ask, hanging the pheasant on the wall as the boy leads the horse back into the stable, you hang them on the wall as you wash your hands of the mud. 

‘Four in the back lost their riders, they would do well to have someone keep them in shape, try them, choose your favourite. Did Ser Darrion shoot these?” he asks, before you have time to thank him.

“I shot them, your Grace.” His eyes flit to you then back to the birds “they go to the boy, he takes them to his family, that was part of our deal,” you relay pulling them down off the wall “He wanted nothing of course but I told him to never do anything for free, especially if the person asking is wealthy,” Robb’s laugh catches you off guard 

“Aren’t you angry,” you ask, turning to make sense of the lightness you felt in the conversation. 

“Quite the opposite. You’ll have to teach my youngest sister, Arya when… if we find her,” he relays, stone faced. “She would like you,” he admits. 

“I look forward to meeting her,” 

“His family must be well fed, you're a good shot,”  Robb says, looking the birds over. 

“I've been hunting for a long time your Grace, though Visery didn't think it a very lady-like hobby so naturally…” 

“Well my mother would agree, but if it keeps you out of my hair for a few hours I see it as a benefit to our union,” 

“Did you come here to land an insult or was there something else you needed?” you ask 

“I believe I just paid you a compliment,” he states

“What was your intended purpose here then?” 

“A gift arrived late last night, a wedding present for you,” he says as you re-don your cloak. 

“A compliment, a horse and a gift. Seems a very fortunate day for me. Why haven't you opened it yourself?” You ask, looking down in confusion at his arm extended to you.

“They are not addressed to me” he states, “And we may as well look the part” you link your arm in his and exit the stable. Appearances were crucial now, and any effort on his part at this point seemed miraculous.  “You’ve grown more accustomed to the cold, last I saw you wore three cloaks when you went outside,” 

“We run warm, I just needed some time to adapt,” You explain, though the heat radiating from your arm was welcome as days grew colder. 

“Blood of the dragon, I almost forgot,’ Robb states. 

“Was that a joke your Grace,” you ask looking at him. 

“Was that a compliment?”  he replies, mouth cautiously upturned. 

“I don't recall saying it was funny,” you remark dryly as he pulls the tent flaps open. Perhaps there was a reason his men followed him to death after all, now he was no longer blaming you for his anguish; he was, dare you say it, tolerable.  Your heart skips seeing Darrion inside, and you instinctively drop Robb's arm. 

“Ser Darrion, Ser Jorah,” you address “It does my eyes good to see you both alive and unharmed,” your eyes trail down to the chest before them. 

“Thank you Ser Mormont for delivering this to us, safely and for ensuring it is not tampered with,” Robb states, so Jorah had brought them back. 

“Who are they from?” you ask 

“An Iilyrio Mopatis, you stayed with him a while as a child after the maesters. I told him you were married and he said he had been saving it for the last true dragon,”

“Rheagar was the last true dragon,” you reply, “but I will not refuse a gift from someone who cared for me when the rest of the world would not. I will entrust you with a letter of thanks that is to be delivered to him, I will write it myself,”

“Yes, your Grace,” Jorah replies

“You may leave us,” Robb finishes throwing his gloves down on the desk. Your eyes involuntarily stuck on Ser Darrion as he bows, his own eyes trailing up your body causing a heat to flush throughout your inside. 

“Are you going to open it?” Robb mutters, removing his blood stained linens and rinsing himself with the water from the basin, warmed by the hearth burning beneath it.

“Have you always been so impatient or are you just used to getting what you want?” you prod playfully, looking over your shoulder quickly. 

“I have always been good at getting my own way,” he relays

“Privilege of being the eldest,” you replay, kneeling before the chest on the floor. 

“Topped only by the preference for the youngest,” he counteracts, watching your hands ghost over the box, hesitantly.

“It has been checked, both by Jorah and Darrion, though I can open it if you…” 

“I am fine your Grace, just admiring the craftsmanship, appears to be welded in Dothraki gold,” you click the latches open slowly pushing the wooden lid eyes widening as the contents are revealed. 

“What has he sent?” Robb asks, unable to hide his curiosity, noting the look on your face your hands reach in, pulling out an egg, the size of a man's head, a bright gold. 

“Dragon eggs,” you reply breathlessly, wonderment plastered on your features as your hands trace down the scales, warming them.  “Three of them.”

“All gold?” Robbs queries, watching  you intently as you carefully place the first down on the hearth. 

“No. It’s rare any within a brood are remotely alike,” You lift the other two together, one black and one green reuniting them with the gold on the hearth. 

“Dragon eggs have to be kept warm if you want them to hatch, they cannot survive in the cold and before you start I know they are decorative in a likelihood, but you have your gods and we have ours. To leave them in the cold would be disrespectful,” you explain looking up to meet Robbs own gaze of bewilderment at the mythology placed before him. 

He pulls a clean shirt on and sits down in his chair rolling up his sleeves before decanting wine into a glass, watching curiously as your hands gently stroke the scales of the matte coloured eggs illuminated by the embers.

“I realise now I know nothing about you, or your family or your beliefs. Well apart from what I assume are the most horrifying details and some of which I assume to be less than true,” 

“Whose fault is that?” you counter eyes still on the eggs, hands trailing across them. 

“Must you always be so difficult,”

“Me?” you begin, but when you turn towards an argument he's smiling at the wall, so you forgo it. It was the first time he had asked you a question about yourself, the first time either of you had to be fair.  “Well some of the atrocities are certainly elevated though many I fear to inform you are true. Tell me then, your highness, what it is you wish to know,”

“Is it your highness now? Is that better or worse than your grace,”

“I am only trying to uphold the standard of address you set for me when we first met,” 

“Tell me about the dragons. They were the only part of my lessons I could focus on from what I remember,”

“Oh I find it hard to believe you were anything but the perfect student. Would you like to hear the truths or the myths?” you ask and gently stroking the tops of the eggs, the scales lining the shell shine in the flames, and for a moment you swear you feel them beating.

“Are they different?”

“You have much to learn your Grace,” you replay standing, brushing off the ash from your skirts. 

“Then teach me, perhaps some of your ability to perceive strategy will rub off on me,” 

“As much as it pains me to say, you would survive without me, most of my conclusion are easily found once you know what you're looking at,” 

“Yet none seem to find them,” he replies 

“Was that another compliment? Two in one day, have I strayed into a dream?” you joke  

“Eye for an eye,” he replies, a playfulness playing off you both, previously unknown. 

“Very well, I concede, what would you like to hear about the dragon's your highness”, you ask, curtseying, causing Robb to shake his head. 

“Where did they come from?” he asks as you pour yourself a glass of wine. It was bitter compared to that you'd had in Dorne, but you were growing accustomed to it. 

“Depends on the source. Some say they were born from deep beneath the mountains. When Westeros and Essos parted and the earth cracked open, ash and fire rained down from the sky as dragons crawled out from the centre of the world. Others say they fell from the moon, a gift from the gods,” 

“Why was your family so favoured by the gods,”

“The gods simply placed the dragons on this earth, the Targaryens learnt to train them,”

“How did they manage that?” he continues. 

“My fore-bearers knew of their breeding grounds, before kings and kingdoms existed, before Targaryens and Starks and Lannisters and Baratheons. We lived alongside them in trust until a rule was broken. An egg stolen, dragons devastated bruning the land before them,”

“Creating the red waste,” Robb finishes, enraptured in your words glad for your immersion in tale lest you see his stare, one he could not seem to deter as the warmth of the light illuminated your features drawing him further in. 

“See, the perfect student,” he chuckles, “ Well the dragon went into hiding as the kingdom of men grew, and relationships strained. It became a tradition, a ritual, a rite of passage; it was the entrance into Targearyn lineage. Before the incest and the inbreeding a Targaryean was any who would be bold enough to survives the dragons nest and return with the eggs. Then it became a customary practice of marriage and engagement, and eventually even a gift for children, but populations dwindled. The dragons became few and populations inbred shrinking them making them vulnerable and weak in the mind, an easy correlation perhaps to my own family history,” you admit sadly, swilling your wine around in the glass. “You know, we once rode them to war,”

“I have heard that tale, They said your forefathers would ride to war a back them,”

“It is not merely a tale nor was it only the men. Women rode alongside their husbands; you'll find that in any book you read.”

“Will I,” he challenges 

“Are you calling me a liar,” you press 

“Perhaps I'll believe it if I ever see it, for now the hour grows late, so I must call a truce,” he states, weary from battle, your tales having entranced him into a state of relaxation he rarely felt. 

“I accept,” you reply, placing the glass down, going once more to the eggs to bid them goodnight. Your arm reaches down but they are caught before they make contact. You look up to Robb whose thumb runs gently over your wrist. “You’ll burn your hands beyond repair touching those now…” he drops your wrist, realising the intimacy of the moment “ without gloves at least,” words fail you, but he clears his throat. 

“There is another piece of business that demands a truce,” he admits and you look at him. “ We are stopping at the twins. My grandfather survived another year, he is to celebrate his name day at the Vale, and my mother demands our attendance. I agreed with her on the sole condition that more support is needed if we are to win. While you need not attend, I believe you would be an asset,” 

“Truly,” 

“Yes,” he confirms. 

 “If you believe I will be useful, then we shall attend,” 

“Be warned, since her husband's death my aunt has gone somewhat mad, try not to take offence,”

“Salt helps well with the blisters,” he says, nodding down to your hand “They stop forming once practise with the blade is consistent, they should heal up by the time you meet my grandfather, I do not know what kind of chastising I will get for allowing you near a weapon. Also, it may also be best if you address my by my name when around family,”

“Is your grace giving me permission to forgo his initial request?”

“Robb, is very much indeed asking that of you,” 

“Very well, if your grace demands it, who am I to refuse,” the haze of the wine had seeped into the surrounding air, the whole room slightly out of focus when you blew out the candle and pulled the furs over your shoulders. “Goodnight, Robb,” 

“Goodnight Rhaeanya,” 

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

The Vale

Light blue garments adorned your body, intricate silver clutching around your waistline flowing up into trees and woodland scenery and downwards into roots, starks colours for the night. 

“You look well,” Robb says, offering his arm as you meet him by the base of the stairs. 

“As do you,”  you reply, taking it, you had arrived a few hours ago from the front, Cat had arrived early in the morning.  The ride to Riverrun was silent for the most part, Robb having fallen asleep, saving you the need for unnecessary small talk, less chance of irritating the other. 

“The celebration is due to begin shortly but I will first introduce you to my aunt ,nephew and grandfather,”

“Lysa, Robyn and Hoster,” you list

“Very Good, my Uncles will likely be here as well, The blackfish and Edmure. The former is interesting and the other is relatively useless but harmless.”

“Lots of family, once again my job is much harder than yours. I only had one and that proved so difficult for you to remember you killed him,” you state, relieved by Robb’s huff of amusement.

“Best behaviour, just for Lysa and my grandfather, the rest well they are easier to converse with,” your feet almost trip over one another when you enter the large room, taken aback by the woman sitting high atop a throne nursing what appeared to be an eight year old boy. 

“Lady Arryn,” you curtsey  “I wish to thank you for your hospitality, your home is truly a work of fine craftsmanship, and its upkeep impeccable,”

“The last time I saw a Targaryen here was when I was a few years younger than you, I believed you all dead,” she states, a carelessness that implied neither malice or hatred, neutrality was better than you had expected. 

“We are sturdy folk, hard to be rid of my lady, and my lord. Your son looks well, may I ask his name”

“Robyn,” she replies, the boy looked sickly with large eyes and runny nose perched atop a somewhat frail frame. 

“Robyn Arryn, a gentle name, but a strong one as well. One of good fortune and friendship, it is a name as high as honour one that carries the Tully spirit with the Arryn name,” she smirks. 

“And your name,” she asks

“Rhaeanya, my lady,” 

“Flowing with grace in the common tongue, we shall see if that holds true,” she replies, sushing Robyn who had begun pulling at her hair. 

“I hope it does, my Lady“

“And what of you my beloved nephew come forward you need not stand in her shadow of all places. The king in the north , avenging your father and your uncle against the evils birthed of lannister incest.”

“Thank you aunt, your husband gave his life for my family, that will not be forgotten, but I must see the guest of honour before the festivities begin,”

“He is with your mother, and Edmure no doubt gossiping without me,” 

“It was lovely to meet you lady arryn and you as well lord robyn,” you smile at the boy whose brown eyes stare at you as if you were an apparition. Though your features were likely obscure in the north especially to a boy who hardly left the tower walls. 

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

“Please my lord do not rise on my behalf,” you begin

“Fear not you grace, I am old but I am not dead yet,” 

“You have her likeness, your mothers,” he says sitting down at the dresser, and your heart drops 

“I am glad to encounter one who knew her, though I warn you I may bore you with many questions now we are acquainted,”

“Tales I am happy to share, none find my words interesting these days, not since they were children, and I am always happy to share the past especially with one so full of beauty,”

“I see Robbs charm is not merely a product of the Stark lineage,”

“The Tullys were always less serious my dear,” 

“Where on earth would you get the idea Robb was serious?” you joke opening the door allowing his dressers to enter. 

“Speaking of serious,” Robb interjects, “There are matters I hope to discuss,not tonight grandfather not on your name day but there are things that need seeing to before we depart,”

“Of course, my boy, tomorrow we will discuss before you leave but tonight we celebrate. Rhaeanya, a pleasure to meet you, and what a joyous thing for you to be apart of our family,” 

“It is my greatest joy to have found family here, I thought it lost to me forever,”

“Well you shall have children soon enough, I hope to meet them,” your chest tightens, your throat closing as you swallow your panic, fear of being caught for the fraud you were. Unable to complete what was needed to ensure a war won. 

“Well my aunt only slightly insulted you, and my grandfather seems to want you for a son, so  all in all its going quite well,”

“Had you not prepared me for the breastfeeding that would have thrown me, how old is the boy?”

“Must be nearing 8, and for once you are speechless. I suppose we should make our way down to the festivities am I still presentable,”

“Are you asking if you appear kingly,” 

“Yes,” he replied, his earnestness catching you off guard, you refute the joke sitting behind your teeth and take a step back. You move forward, hands reaching up, his gaze following you as you shift the crown on his head just to the left. 

“It's never quite fit right,” he mutters,

“It fits, and more importantly it suits you, shall we,” you ask. There is a steadiness to him as you enter the hall, despite the eyes and the whispers, the paranoia you felt entering a room was absent in him. You wonder if he felt through your facade. You watch intently as he pulls out your chair waiting for you to sit before taking his place next to you taking up conversation with his grandfather. 

“And you must be the new bride,” a rough voice speaks out. 

“Perhaps the old bride now, but yes, no longer a Targaryen by name,”

“But in appearance, the lineage is unmistakable”

“You must must the Blackfish,”

“Aye your Grace, I see my reputation precedes me, I hope you don’t think too ill of me,”

“Well, hard to pass judgement while rebelling against a kingdom that deemed my entire family an outcast. Perhaps we are more alike than you think,” 

“And how does Westeros compare to Essos,”

“Essos is warmer, the wine is sweeter and it smells less of piss and more of flowers,” you relay, causing the Blackfish to cough into his drink caught off guard. “Apologies my lord, but I assumed you of all people would forgive such low language. Now tell me for I must know, what was he like as a child, I imagine he came out stern faced and serious, shouldering the weight of the world before he knew it,”

“In ways he was, but unlike now it was attributed to an almost unbelievable shyness,”

“Shyness,” you respond, shocked at the revelation. 

“I believe so, but duty always prevailed and he always did what he needed to,”

“Well that what not nearly as fun as I had hoped, nor did it provide me with any such ammunition for teasing,”

“He use to be funny, though now I fear joy may be lost on him, make sure he finds some,” 

“I will try, though I do admit I may not be the best candidates,”

“Well you made me laugh, and that's a victory in itself these days,” he nods his head back and you turn your attention to where your name had just been called

“Rhaeanya, when may I expect a great grandchild, I will be first in my family to see such a sight,” Hoster states loudly, Robb seemingly gone white

“Soon, we hope, I pray everyday” you say, taking Robbs hand in yours. 

“Unfortunately the situation with the Targaryen lineage,” Lysa chimes in from further down the table, “they are mad and rumours say their offspring have been born deformed and scaly, monsters. You should have found better breeding stock for your eldest son, such a fine young man surely others would have been willing,” Lysa shouts loudly, words clear over the crowds clamour, you feel Robbs hand tense as your eyes glaze over. 

“Lysa,” Catlynn warns, but she doesn't let up, and you feel your demeanour shift, cowering inwards at the fear of being found out. An uncharacteristic meekness that caught the attention of another. 

“Your highness,” Ser Darrion interrupts, you release Robbs hand and tune back into the crowd  “may I request a dance with your wife,” 

“It is her decision, though I encourage it. Conversation here has grown tiresome, she has my permission if she wishes to leave,” you feel his eyes on you

“Thank you Ser Darrion. I would be glad to leave the scene,” you state standing from the table and making your way to the floor. 

“Her stock is higher than any I am aware of, she's the only with a true claim to the iron throne, and in addition to that she is invaluable in the war room. She does the work the Lannisters entire counsel cannot. As for scaly children, perhaps you have fallen victim to propaganda dear aunt, ” Robb defends. “A war your father supported,” Lysa fires back

“A war that saw her entire family slaughtered, and would have seen her dead had my father not intervened,”

“Enough, no more of this on my name day, celebrate, the night is young and I am old, I do not wish to spend my last days listening to family squabbles,” 

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

“Apologies for interrupting your conversation,” ser Darrion whispers.  

“Is that what it was, felt more of personal attack from a woman who still breastfeeds her son,” you mutter

“I have missed you,” 

“And what about me is it that you have missed,”

“Every aspect, you face,  your voice, your laugh, your stories,”

“Enough of my stories, I need a few of yours,”

“Anything you request,”

“You have known Robb since childhood”

“I have,” 

“Was he always so… well… him,” you chuckle 

“Yes, but infinitely more reserved. He never danced, hardly laughed, was always shy, and very serious. Keep to himself, drove most of the girls to him of course, man of mystery and all,”

“Is that jealousy I sense in your voice,” you joke 

“I’d like to say I’ve gotten over it,” 

“Oh i'm sure you did just fine,”

“Well I was able to make them laugh, does he make you laugh” the lightness of the conversation shifted. 

“He is my husband,” you reply, hoping to avoid broaching an intimate topic so publicly. 

“If I was your husband I would ensure your happiness,” he whispers  “My hands would never leave you, there would not be a day that went by without my love for you being expressed,” 

“Ser Darrion,” you whisper

“Rhea,” he replies seriously, 

“You forget yourself,” you mutter sternly,  eyes boring into his, resisting every urge in your body. You stare over the shoulder to see Robb staring directly at you grey gaze amber under the light as the music ends

“Thank you Ser Darrion, but you should be on your way,” you reply, and he kisses your hand.

“If you ever wish to leave this behind you need only ask,” he states, and your stomach drops, heart racing.  Your eyes watch as he leaves the floor, ignoring the women walking towards him. 

Your heart flutters, beating up into your ears. Against better judgement you lift your skirt and follow him, but by the time you reach the outer room he’s gone. You walk off into a hallway looking around when you turn to go back you see Robb. Concerned at the look in your eyes during Lysas trade, seeking you out as another olive branch, only to see you following another. He had not been concerned with the dance, not until he saw you rushing out after Darrion.

“What do you think your doing?” he asks

“I… I was… what was I doing with what?” you stutter. 

“Don’t act stupid, we both know you are not,” he relays, and you shift into defensive mode. 

“So you get to go gallivanting around into every whorehouse in Westeros, but I am not allowed to walk in the same direction as a man?”

“I will not have an uncertain heir, I cannot, do you understand,” he states firmly

“Are you jealous,” you ask, echoing back words he had once shouted at you. 

“Of what? I seem to remember getting an earful about making you out to be a fool. You dancing closely, so closely with your guard makes me look foolish. Do you understand that? They will not follow a man they do not respect. If you cannot see that then perhaps I overestimated your intelligence,” he scolds. 

“Do not mock me,” you reply evenly, feeling smaller than you expected

“You do it so easily for yourself in your hypocrisy,” he digs further into you.

“You are being unnecessarily cruel,” you snap. 

“Perhaps you bring it out in me,” he states

“Apologies, your highness have I awoken the dragon,” you shoot back.

“Do not compare to that man,” he states, anger now evident in his features. 

“Then stop acting like him,” you state clearly

“Perhaps if you were not such a spoiled brat…”

“Me?” you laugh, “ I am not the one currently in the throes of a tantrum. You have had everything handed to you since the day you were born, the perfect prince, beloved by his kingdom, adored by all. Well perhaps not so perfect considering your failures of late,” there it was. The dagger behind your teeth sharpened to a point, always ready to strike, always to kill, never willing to only wound. 

“I am well aware of my failures, I know my fathers death , and my sisters' continued torture falls into my hands. So yes I am a failure to them. I need not have a stranger remind me of this,” You feel the truth in his words and guilt washes over you. 

“Tonight by all accounts has been a success. So we will go back inside, we will dance, we will drink, we will stay a night then we shall return to a war I'm failing to win. Join me once you have composed yourself,”

“Robb,” you call and he turns around

“Save it, I do not care to hear anymore from you tonight besides what is owed to my family.”

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Female rage my beloved -Danny Words: 2,189 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Bleeding Out' -by Imagine Dragons

LVI: Oh, the Horrors... They Love Me So

Ara slips holding onto the rope Annabeth tied in place. 

"Wow, this looks like a freaking nightmare," she dusts off her hands. "Where's the giant, then?"

"Do you hear that?" Piper looks around. "It's coming from inside the statue... The heartbeat of the chained god."

Annabeth seizes her sword—drakon bone and pretty good at killing things, she got it in Tartarus. "I—I don't like this, girls. We need to leave."

"The shrine is ramping up our emotions," Piper warns them. "It's like being around my mom, except this place radiates fear, not love. That's why you started feeling overwhelmed on the hill. Down here, it's a thousand times stronger."

"Oh, crap," Ara's heartbeat picks up. "Phobos and Deimos."

"Panic and Fear," Annabeth looks at Ara. "Your brothers?"

"Not them again!" She whines, using the hair tie Leo gave her to gather the hair away from her face. "Last time they wouldn't stop bullying me about my height! They're the worst half-brothers ever! Worse than Eros!"

"Do not worry about them, child of Olympus," a giant comes out of nowhere, startling her. "You have bigger problems than them."

Ara had been thirteen years old when she faced her twin brothers, and the only good thing she'd managed to do was to keep them distracted so Clarisse and Percy could strike. She was terrified then, and she's felt that way for a long time. It is telling how the immortals she hates most are so closely tied to her nature. 

Her most horrible memories flash through, and one of them closes up her throat from pure shock. A deeply buried memory: Her father's face.

Annabeth crumbles, overwhelmed by Tartarus's memories. It clears Ara's head a bit, Annabeth is a person who holds onto her wits, if she loses them, she loses the whole battle. Ara blinks and stands before her while Piper kneels and tries her best to calm the girl down.

"I'm here," Piper fills her voice with reassurance. "We will get out of this."

"A daughter of Olympus born from Aphrodite! Now I've seen everything. How would you defeat me, girls? With makeup and fashion tips?"

Ara rolls her eyes. "And who are you?"

The giant snarls. "I'm Mimas!"

"Mami, okay—it's just that y'all are so identically ugly it's hard to tell you apart," she seizes her flintlock. "Do you want to give a speech before I stuff you with bullets, or..."

The giant tries to flatten her with his hammer, but Ara dodges it and takes Piper and Annabeth with her. She pushes them forward. 

"Pipe, what do we do?"

"Why are you asking me?" She asks as they evade more hammer attacks. "You're the general!"

"You're the one figuring this place out!"

"We can't reason pure fear!" 

"Run?"

"Run!" 

They rush into the nearest tunnel.

"Fools! That is the wrong way!"

"Guys, we need a plan!" Annabeth screams.

"No plans!" Ara and Piper shout together.

Ara can't think, she's too scared to gather her wits, but she trusts her sister, Piper always keeps a cool head just like Ara, but right now Ara is sleep-deprived and sort of affected by the memory of a core childhood trauma.

"It's like the House of Night," Annabeth sobs. "We should close our eyes."

"No! Keep them open. We can't try to hide." Piper presses.

"Lost forever. Swallowed by the darkness."

"Why did we just plunge in?" Annabeth stops running and Ara has to grab Piper before the girl leaves them behind. "We're lost. We did what he wanted us to! We should have bided our time, talked to the enemy, figured out a plan. That always works!"

"Annabeth, we never ignore your advice—But this time we have to. We can't defeat this place with reason. You can't think your way out of your emotions."

"No matter how hard you try..." Ara mutters, trying to come up with something. 

She keeps hoping to wake up less scared, and it never happens. Sometimes it works, reasoning her feelings and giving them a name, but when it comes to this... the urge to cry comes and overwhelms her faster than when she was younger.

"Despair, Annabeth Chase! I am Mimas, born to slay Hephaestus. I am the breaker of plans, the destroyer of the well-oiled machines. Nothing goes right in my presence. Maps are misread. Devices break. Data is lost. The finest minds turn to mush!"

They're fighting the anti-Hephaestus in the temple of panic and fear? Really? Ara almost laughs at the revelation. This is her personal hell. All the things that keep her steady in the world: Knowledge, blueprints, and experience... she's been stripped away from her strongest tools.

"I—I've faced worse than you!" Annabeth shouts, trembling from head to toe.

"Oh, I see! Are you not afraid?"

"Never!"

"Of course we're afraid," Piper intervenes. "Terrified!"

Something pulls them back into the room and Ara falls on her back, the air leaves her lungs abruptly. "I can't win..." she coughs out. 

"You're right, Arae Jackson, you cannot defeat me. In the last war, it took two gods to bring me down. I was born to kill Hephaestus, and would have done so if Ares hadn't ganged up on me as well! You do well by staying down, your death will be quicker."

"I won't die," she says it in such a steady tone the giant freezes. "I won't win, because I won't fight you. You're like Eros... a part of me I refuse to acknowledge." She sits up, spotting the flintlock lying next to her right foot.

The giant doesn't attempt to kill her yet, maybe curious about what she's saying. Ara struggles to reach for her gun and stands up.

"I've never been perfect, but at some point, I convinced myself that I was supposed to be... I think it was when Beckendorf died, maybe?" She breathes in shakily. "Everything changed."

Ara looks up at the giant, eyes fiery. Piper circles the chained Ares statue in complete silence, holding onto her cornucopia while Annabeth remains behind it, ready for whatever they need.

"The one thing that's been motivating me is fear," Ara continues. "I don't sleep, and I can't love right..." her voice breaks. "Someone has to pay for that, Marimar—And it can't be me no more."

"Ara, this temple," Piper is trembling and frightened but does not attempt to cover it up. "The Spartans came here to prepare for battle, to face their fears. Ares was chained to remind them that war has consequences. His power—the spirits of battle, the makhai—should never be unleashed unless you understand how terrible they are, unless you've felt fear."

Ara understands what Piper's telling her. "A coward doesn't throw away her youth fighting the wars of others," she aims the flintlock at the giant. "I'm not a coward, Mitten, but something tells me you might be."

The giant lifts his hammer sneering at her. "Children of the love goddess trying to intimidate me? What do you know about war?"

Ara shoots at the giant's ankle. Piper joins quickly, using Zethes's sword. Their double attack makes him crash his head against a wall, creating a large crack over the ceiling. Ara doesn't use Leo's shield fearing Mimas's magic will make it malfunction, she also makes a point of not using her flintlock now since the guy could jam it, and she keeps Almighty in sword mode.

"Girls, this place is unstable!" Annabeth shouts. "If we don't leave—"

"Don't think about escape!" Piper runs to the rope and cuts it.

"Piper, have you lost your mind?" Annabeth gasps.

"Annabeth, stay back!" Ara warns her. "This is our battle!"

"That hurt!" Mimas wails. "You realize you cannot kill me without the help of a god and Ares is not here! The next time I face that blustering idiot, I will smash him to bits. I wouldn't have had to fight him in the first place if that cowardly fool Damasen had done his job—"

"Do not insult Damasen!" Annabeth blurts out with unexpected anger. She jumps into battle, startling the giant enough so Piper can slash across his face.

"GAHHH!"

"Don't think of tactics, just aim to hurt!" Ara advices the older girl as the giant's ear falls next to them.

Piper seizes Ara's free hand and Ara grabs Annabeth's in turn. They run into another tunnel. "I will bring down this chamber!" Mimas warns them. "The Earth Mother shall deliver me, but you shall be crushed!"

"Girls, stop!" Annabeth implores. "How—how are you dealing with this? The fear, the anger—"

"Don't try to control it. That's what the temple is about. You have to accept the fear, adapt to it, ride it like the rapids on a river."

"Remember what you told Percy on our first quest?" Ara pants. "I'm a coward—"

"I didn't mean—"

"It's true," Ara grunts, her head pounding from fatigue. "I get scared so easily it's laughable, but that's the point, I've learned to move in it. I'm not ashamed of it anymore, it's only made me stronger."

The tunnel shakes so violently that Piper stops and hugs them tight. Ara can feel her breathing. "Fear can't be reasoned with. Neither can hate. They're like love. They're almost identical emotions. That's why Ares and Aphrodite like each other. Their twin sons—Fear and Panic—were spawned from both war and love."

"And if ignored," Ara gulps down her discomfort. "They rot you from the inside out. They don't even have to fight you to win."

"Unless we learn to tame them," Piper agrees.

"I hate that," Annabeth complains.

"It's fine," Ara replies. "I always wanted to be calculating and disciplined like you—and now that I am, I've realized I hate it. They still help."

"You can't plan for feelings," Piper eyes the crumbling walls anxiously. "Like with Percy and Leo, and your futures—you can't control every contingency. You have to accept that. Let it scare you. Trust that it'll be okay anyway."

Annabeth shakes her head and speaks in a choked voice. "I don't know if I can."

"Then for right now concentrate on revenge for Damasen. Revenge for Bob." Piper holds onto the back of Ara's head. "Prove Lily's doing the right thing by staying faithful."

Ara and Annabeth have gone through so much together, and then apart. They owe their lives to so many, that dying here is not an option. There is work to be done.

"I'm good now," Annabeth says, focused and serious.

"Great, because we'll need your help. We're going to run out there together."

"Then what?"

"We kill the bad guy," Ara states.

"How?"

"No idea," the girls respond.

"Gods, I hate Aphrodites."

Piper laughs and Ara feels a tinge of amusement as the girl leads them forward. "Come on!"

They end up back where they began, but they already knew this was going to happen. The three slash the giant's legs, and he falls snarling and hissing. "Weak mortals! No plan of yours can defeat me!"

"That's good—Because we don't have a plan," Piper breathes heavily.

Ara glances at the statue. "Maybe we do..." she locks eyes with Piper. "It's time you meet our godly counterpart, Pipes. Make sure he's comfortable, those chains look painful."

The girl runs to the statue. "You keep mee-ma occupied!"

"It's Mimas!"

"Who cares?!" Annabeth and Ara reply.

Piper kneels before the statue and places the cornucopia before it. Ara dares to shift Almighty's form to the roughest weapon she can think of: a club.

"No child of love can beat my power!"

"For the last time, Monty," she dodges his hammer while Annabeth stabs his ribs. "I'm the daughter of Olympus!"

Piper stands up and cuts off the statue's head. 

"No!" Mimas growls in rage.

Flames erupt from the statue and swirl around Piper, Annabeth, and Ara. The girls act like an amplifier. Crazy can only be fought with crazy, so Ara prays, and her body glows purple. She strikes with the club once, twice... still feeling like she's on fire but so affected by her emotions that she's no longer in control of her actions. 

"Children of Olympus aim to kill!" She screams, hitting the giant over and over. "And I've run out of mercy!"

She swings the club hitting the giant's chin, Annabeth slashes across his ankle, and Piper swiftly and casually moves out of the way as he falls causing such a quake that one of the chiseled heads above them breaks and falls flat on top of the giant's skull.

"How's that for a mushed mind?" Ara breathes heavily.

Annabeth stares at the sisters in shock. "What just happened?"

"Ara got a blessing," Piper eyes her with interest. "Mr D?"

"Baccus," Ara nods, staring at the pile of ash the giant turned into. "That's the second time he helps me kill a giant, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Piper, you girls were amazing, but those fiery spirits you released—"

"The makhai."

"How does that help us find the cure we're looking for?" Annabeth asks.

"I don't know. They said I could summon them when the time comes. Maybe Artemis and Apollo can explain—"

The wall cracks more, and Annabeth holds onto Ara's shoulder. "We need to get out of here."

"I'm working on it," Piper mumbles.

"And, uh, I think that ear is your spoil of war."

"Gross."

"Would make a lovely shield."

"Shut up, Chase," Piper looks at the remaining face on the wall. "Thank you, brothers, for helping to kill the giant. I need one more favor—an escape. And, believe me, I am properly terrified. I offer you this, uh, lovely ear as a sacrifice."

Ara turns Almighty into a compass and looks at the symbols on it. "Let's take a walk."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[thedo0zyslider]

20

!!!!!

This is another eal one haha!! It's from the Scott and Sausage pov fic I've been dying to write :33

Its more on the emotional side lol, this scene would happen around uhh Chapter 16-18 of EAL I think. These two are doing so much needed healing :]

"You blame yourself for what I did, don't you?" Sausage asked quietly. Scott just looked downwards, nodding in confirmation. "But why don't you blame yourself for what Joey did too?"

"Joey told me that...even I had been truthful it wouldn't have changed his mind at the time.." The elf muttered, wringing his hands together. "I could've saved you but I didn't, Sausage. I just lied and let you get corrupted and-"

He reached to up the elf’s face, but stopped himself. Instead he placed a slow and gentle hand on the others outer thigh, cutting off Scott’s guiltly, self hatred induced rambling. He looked upwards to meet the Mythlander’s gaze, blinking away the beginnings of tears.

"It's not your fault I was stupid Scott." Sausage said firmly. "Yeah, you could've saved me, but it's my fault I got greedy for power."

"...Would it have done anything? If I told you sooner?" Scott's voice is small when he speaks, and it makes Sausage's heart break just a little.

"I don't know...probably not...." He says, gaze becoming fixed on the ground for a handful of seconds. The now familiar shame for his past washing over Sausage once more.

"Can I hug you?" He asked, full expecting a no. To his surprise, Scott nodded yes. The elf was the one to surge forward, wrapping his arms around Sausage's neck tightly. He blinked, surprised, but returned the embrace just as quickly. Scott buried his face into Sausage's shoulder and took deep, shaking breaths. The Mythkander just held him close, rocking back and forth gently. He didn’t even care when he felt the fabric of his shirt dampen, and cared more about how many tears where being spilled instead. It didn't seem to be that many, thankfully, and Sausage hoped his hug was doing something good.

He didn't care how long they sat there, even it did end up being hours, as long as it would help Scott. If he helped the elf in his arms, then nothing else mattered.

[hikennosabo]

trimax vol 14 random thoughts (ch 5-8)

okay enough stalling... let's get this done... HOO BOY

chapter 5:

i love how vash is drawn in these panels... and vash waking up from hearing meryl's words... WAAHHHHH...

GET UP COWARD (<- lyric from my chemical romance's 2022 single 'the foundations of decay' which i may or may not be considering for a vash playlist)

oh, i LOVE this image of knives covering his face...

hmhmhm... the way knives addresses the other plants is... gentle, almost?

"sorrow and grief," huh... over the humans trying to communicate with them? those are the kinds of emotions this scenario is bringing out? there is something there but... i don't quite know what it is...

uwahhh... i do love this image...

"we were united in hatred" -> "i feel a murmur of fear"... hmmm. sounds like knives himself, who buried his fear underneath hatred... am i connecting any dots???

but fear in communicating with humans... fear because communication is scary in general? fear because of the abuse humans have put plants through? fear of uncertainty of what this communication will result in?

the tiniest merylmilly u can imagine...

they ask if it's safe, but it's not like vash cares if it's safe, he's been prepared to die for several volumes now, so... he's probably thinking "if i die i die," lol. (<- in pain)

this is a cute expression...

"don't touch me," he says...

knives trying to incorporate himself with the fused plants - now it's HIS turn to go "if i die i die" i guess LJSDKLFDS... both him and vash risking it all for their ideals. they really are brothers...

vash's "grant me that ticket"... it doesn't directly address god, but it feels like a prayer nonetheless.

chapter 6:

wah... meryl's strength gives vash strength... wahhh... is this the first time they've... well, "talked about it" isn't the right phrase, but is this the first time vash understands what meryl was going through that time when she flinched away from him?

"what matters is that you communicate. that you understand the person next to you is breathing and existing." ugh, fuck, i can feel myself getting weepy again.

the people getting good AND bad memories from the plants.. good! good! they said a few volumes ago that most(?) of the population has gathered in this city, so this really is everyone?! individual normal people couldn't do much about plant abuse, but now that EVERYONE understands, things can change! they can acknowledge what's happened, and they can change, and move forward!!

and vash being the bridge, the point of commonality between humans and plants... uaaghgh it's so interesting because for a long time vash's reputation among the humans was one of destruction. but in this moment everyone understands who he really is and what he wants. ueueeueueue....

also. this pattern of receiving traumatic memories via feathers, and to come out the other side not with fear and hatred but with increased compassion and understanding... sounds like what happened between vash and meryl, doesn't it?

"i've never made a promise like this before, but today i'd like to try" UAAGHGHHG.G U AHGHGHGHG.

haha. hey. why does it look like he's been crying. i'm going to throw up.

i don't know if the rest of this post will be comprehensible.

chapter 7:

what do i even say here.

hey remember the chapter title "king of loneliness." i'm gonna go eat rocks now.

even now, he's stubbornly clinging to his ideals, thinking he's in too deep, that he's gone too far to turn back...

oh, this is getting to me, the way it's worded. "caught up in something too big" and the panel of them as kids. they were just kids when this all started. this was too big for them. knives was a kid, a traumatized, scared kid who made a very bad, very destructive decision, and he has lived his life up until this point digging his heels in, growing more and more twisted, more controlling and violent, trying to justify his own actions to himself because how do you carry something like that.

"kill me, vash, there's nowhere else for me to go." literally two chapters ago vash said "where am i going? what's there left to see?" i'm fucking eating rocks.

"even though we were apart for so long, we were still brothers. but i was the one who broke away..." knives looks so pained when he thinks this. now, after all this, he's finally feeling regret, or letting himself feel regret. in the last possible moment.

...or so he thinks. vash has a clear shot, the opportunity to kill knives, and knives wants vash to kill him, he expects it - but vash protects him instead. with his last bullet. despite knives's blade going through his torso. despite everything. despite EVERYTHING!!!!! vash has EVERY REASON to hate knives, to KILL knives, and he STILL chooses not to!!!! i'm not okay i'm crying again

in 98, rem tells vash "take care of knives"... this is pretty much the same thing... i don't want to say this is necessarily another thing nightow took from 98 because of course this is what she said, what else would she have said at that time?

the beginning of the chapter had vash struggling to remember what rem said, but the preceding pages imply it's knives remembering her words... or maybe they both are...

this is fucking getting to me, fuck, i'm crying again!!! fuck!!!!

also, oh, chronica IS still alive... honestly i was (and still am) so caught up in the twins that that information just immediately left my brain the first time around LMAO...

i am so. fucking. unwell. about knives's expressions in this scene. he's feeling so many things at once. i just... the fact that vash protects knives and picks him up to haul him away... he ISN'T leaving knives on his own, even in the end, even after everything that's happened... and knives is just. what IS he feeling? shock, disbelief, regret... love, can i say love?? love for his brother?? the love between them that never went away, despite everything?? i am gonna fucking throw up

i don't know where to put this in the post because it occurred to me while i was proofreading, but knives stabbed vash, felt shock and regret, and then acted to save him... which sounds awfully similar to what happened between rem and vash, huh?

this, with knives's hair turning black... new hair, new outlook, right?

will you drive me back, can you take me home... (<- lyrics from gerard way's 'brother' from his 2014 solo album 'hesitant alien')

oh, the fact that they sprouted wings like this in the stampede s1 finale is gonna make it hit SOOOO MUCH HARDER once THIS scene gets adapted. this is such a beautiful spread, a beautiful moment... i'm gonna cry again...

LIVIO!!!! TO THE RESCUE!!!! also... that's not a double fang, whose gun is that?

WOLFWOOD!!!!! WWWAHHHHGHGHGHH!!!!! the "turn around and he's gone" scene is SUCH a cliche but FUCK!!!!!! IT'S GETTING TO ME!!!!!!

chapter 8:

i feel so normal i feel so normal (affirmations) (lying)

i can't. i can't type. i'm crying too much. this is love. it's just love.

his last act, knowing that it will kill him, is an act of love. love for his brother. so vash can eat. so the doctor and his kid can eat. and as time goes on it'll grow bigger and be able to feed more people. food as a love language. i'm crying and sobbing.

knives understands he has no place in this world, especially after everything he's done, and the world needs vash more than him... that vash can't live in the world as long as they're together... he doesn't even tell vash himself that he intended to disappear... it's his choice, he walks his path with pride... but i'd like to believe they were able to spend some time together before this. just being brothers. TALKING. eating together. sleeping next to each other. hugging?? apologizing?? knives finally being a good brother after so long and taking care of vash?? making up for lost time. i'd like to imagine it. let me imagine it.

i've been thinking this for a while but i actually do think that vash would forgive knives if knives expressed regret and asked for forgiveness. because vash is jesus and all, and that's how sin and forgiveness work in christianity, if you believe and repent you will be forgiven, etc... i don't know if vash would forgive knives right away - he is very, very human after all - but i definitely think he could. and maybe he did. maybe they had that talk.

phew. okay, i'm finished crying now, and BOY was it a big cry. not any easier the second time around. anyway.

does he really need a wig? if he doesn't spike up his hair, that would be effective by itself, since it's one of his identifiers according to the earth forces...

DOES THIS CONFIRM THAT VASH CAN'T GROW A BEARD WITHOUT EFFORT? like since his plant powers are completely drained he can no longer grow a beard???

AHHHH... VASH'S BIG SMILE!!!!! and everyone's wearing their old clothes, and with a bunch of guys comically chasing vash around, yeah, this is really all for callback's sake... we've come so far, and full circle.

meryl's lecture to him is so typically meryl LOL... he DID NOT keep his promise LMAO

the fucking jojo sound effects are cracking me up HDSFKSFJDFS

also everyone who complained about stampede """changing""" meryl into a reporter owes me $100 right fucking now. that was a complaint i saw SO MUCH. i thought it was a bit strange myself, but i figured orange had a reason, and now i know. those complainers know NOTHING!!! NOTHING!!!!!!

meryl frantically reading from her script and milly's big smile... cute... also WHAT DO YOU MEAN WARDROBE MALFUNCTIONS LMAO?? are they planning on stripping him?? vash the stampede nip slip???

AAHHHHH LIVIO GREW HIS HAIR OUT AGAIN!!!!! and he's at wolfwood's grave... oh fuck i said i was done crying GODDAMMIT!!!!

okay. okay i'm done for real now. man. man. what do i say. what can i say.

"the same song of humanity still sang." and what a beautiful song it is.

i don't really know how to conclude this post... just. wow. what a journey this was. i don't think i've ever cried this much over a manga, lol... i... had a really good time!

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 14 | Chapter 16

Chapter 15: Wet On Wet

TW: some sensually themed dreams, language as always, mentions of smoking and drinking (as always), mentions of past violence and minor injuries, some minor violence (the friendly kind this time), fluff, some Simone, some Howard, Jake & Olive finally get to have that heart to heart 😈👀, Jake and Lena are shameless flirts, a bit of light somewhat smut (oral, fem receiving), flashbacks and a good old cliffhanger to really torture you guys. SO sorry for the wait! As many of you know I had some work stuff going on, but things are finally slowing down and I'm hoping I'll be able to really get back on track with these fics. I did my best editing this long ass chapter (38 freakin pages), so as always sorry if there are any mistakes! Enjoy!

The slight chill that swept into the room brought goosebumps to my flesh, though I couldn’t really know for sure if it was the breeze or the sensation of Jake’s lips dragging down my neck. I knew outside it was cold, but I didn't feel it, even with the window open. I felt warm, almost smothered in heat. “Jake.”

His lips curled into a smile against my collarbone as he hummed, a thing he knew sent shivers down my spine. “Lena.”

“You’re tickling me,” I teased, wiggling in his arms.

With a huff, he lifted his head away from me, looking down at me with that dumb smile that warned of his coming mischief. “Am I? I had no idea.”

“Don’t you dar- JAKE!” I shrieked as his fingers ghosted up my ribs, lips resuming the light touches, tickling me in earnest now.

I rolled, just barely managing to escape his hold on me, darting forward into the hazy space of undefined shapes and lights. I only got a few steps in before his arms wound around my waist and hauled me back to his bed. A faint feeling sparked in my chest. Not the fear or the anger or the shame I expected. Not some old ache. It was something new, something almost foreign to me.

Laughter filled the room. My laughter. I rolled over again, my senses swarmed by the smell of his cologne as my face hit his blankets. His fingers traced the tattoo along my spine as I turned my head to look at him. Jake always looked like the perfect mix of heaven and hell, of sin and saint, of peace and war. He had a way of drawing me in that I didn't fully understand but that I didn't want to fight against anymore. "I like you."

His smile made me feel alive as he shifted closer with a light laugh. I dodged his kiss, burying myself in his blankets, listening to his infectious laughter as he joined me. "I think you might like my bed better than me, though."

"Maybe I do," I joked. "It is really comfy."

"It's certainly better than your bed."

I scoffed. "I'll have you know that bed is very comfortable! I've slept sixteen years on it, and each one has been glorious!"

"Jesus, sixteen years?" Jake replied, finding me beneath the covers. "No wonder it's all lumpy."

"I like lumpy," I retorted, scrunching up my nose at him as he pulled me in close. "And so do you."

An amused look of curiosity made him look younger as he settled his head against his arm. "Do I?"

I nodded, smoothing my hands down his shirt. "Everything I own has lumps. My mattress, my favorite pillow." My throat tightened as I chose my next words quietly, "I'm lumpy." Jake's eyes softened, and his smile turned into a sweet one. "And you like me… Right?"

"Yeah, I like you, princess." His lips were like silk against my own, slow and unhurried, passionate but not at all demanding. Safe.

My eyes shot open, and for a split second, the feel of a bandage against my neck made me panic. Patrick's industrial snoring was quick to banish all my fears as he tossed himself onto his side, putting his loud mouth right next to my head. Peter was curled up like a cat on the opposite side of me, his head of peach fuzz tickling the side of my face. Outside in the living room, I could hear Dom tidying up after himself. I lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, that odd feeling my dream had caused to stir inside me slowly starting to dim.

Feelings like that, the warm and fuzzy things that nestled deep into the soul and opened people up from the inside out, they were dangerous. This world was filled with too many people who took advantage of others and used feelings of warmth, love, and safety to manipulate, lie, and abuse. I could practically hear my mother's voice, whispering loving words one moment and then spitting insults at me the next. Alongside thoughts of her, he was never close behind. I closed my eyes and counted my breaths, focusing on where I was now. Somewhere truly safe. Not some dream. Not with a stranger. Home. 

Only when Dom ran into the corner of the table and loudly cursed did my brothers stir. Patrick’s snoring abruptly stopped, and he sat upright, slowly sliding off the bed. Peter simply opened his eyes, still looking tired as he sighed, running a hand down his face. “Table?”

“Yeah!” Dom hollered back.

Patrick yawned, stretching before standing up from the floor and heading to my bedroom door. “You staying for breakfast?”

The shadow of the large biker was all I could see of him as he met Patrick outside the door. “Sure, I ain’t got anywhere to be yet.”

“How's the neck?” Peter asked, slowly sitting up and looking over at me.

I touched the bandage and shrugged. “It’s fine. Like Oz said, it was just a little scratch.”

He nodded, watchful eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “It wasn't as bad as some of the other times. Watching Dom get all… That was the worst of it."

"I'll be the last one to act like that guy didn't have it coming, but I'm glad Dom snapped out of it before things got too ugly. You did seem a lot more present after it all this time," Peter agreed. "I still figured I'd ask, though."

I rubbed his head and smiled at him. "I know. You're just doing your brotherly duties and whatnot."

He shrugged, standing up with a stiff groan. "Well, shower and change. I'll try to salvage breakfast."

I listened to him leave, greeting Dom with fondness and then attempting to help Patrick with cooking. Throwing the blanket over my head, I fumbled for my phone before flipping it open and wincing at the screen's bright light. I answered Prue and Quinn's messages of concern, and then, without hesitation, I opened Jake's contact.

I'm alive! I texted. You know, just in case you were feeling hopeful that you were finally rid of me.

After spending a few more minutes listening to the sounds of my brothers bickering over breakfast and Dom making awkward small talk, I got ready for the day. The shower water was warm and relaxing, and soon the smell of savory bacon and slightly sweet pancakes wafted into the bathroom. I changed the larger bandage around my neck for a smaller one, meant to hopefully not draw too much attention.

"Holy shit, you didn't burn anything," I remarked, stepping out of the bathroom and drying my hair with a towel.

Patrick nodded, patting himself on the back. "I'm gettin' kinda good at this cooking shit.” He set a plate down in front of Dom and smiled at me. “Better watch your back, lil sis. Looks like I'm comin' for your fancy cook title."

The biker took a bite of the pancakes and shook his head. “These taste like shit.”

“Fuck you!”

Peter kept his nose buried in his paper, quietly sipping his coffee as I took my seat at the table. Ozzy's loud steps echoed up the stairwell as he joined us with a smile. "Good morning, little misfits."

"Morning," we mumbled back.

He settled into the empty chair at the head of the table and tapped my arm. “I see you’ve changed the bandage. How is it looking?”

“It’s just a scratch,” I reassured him with a smile. “But thanks for helping patch me up last night.”

“Always, my dear.”

Patrick set the plate of food down in front of Ozzy, who looked at it with raised brows. “They’re letting you cook now?”

He rolled his eyes and sat down beside me. “Joke all you want, but you’ll all eat it anyway!”

“Or,” Peter spoke above his newspaper. “We could go to Nanas.”

“Rude,” Patrick huffed. “All of you.”

Ozzy took a few bites, swallowing them down with large gulps of coffee before he turned to me again. “I almost forgot! I’ve been emptying the storage unit behind the bar and found your paintings!”

I played with my food and sighed. “Are they taking up too much space?”

“Afraid so,” he chuckled. “I forgot how many you did.”

“Me too.”

Dom wiped his mouth and set his dishes in the sink. “Me and the boys can take them to your place if you want.”

“Aren’t you guys busy?”

“Nah,” he replied. “I’ve got time to spare.”

“Okay, that’d be a lot of help. Thanks, Dom.”

“No problem, kid,” he said, still looking a bit awkward as he passed me with a hesitant pat on the shoulder. “See you later.”

My phone buzzed on the tabletop, bringing a smile to my face but at the same time making those warm feelings start to bubble up again. Damn, and here I was, enjoying my peaceful morning.

Patrick glanced over my shoulder and smirked. “You two are just adorable.”

“Shut up!” I shoved him, moving back into my room to grab my bag. That’s rough. I hate to tell you, but you’ll never be rid of me now, Sweetie.

*

He smiled down at his phone, reading Lena's message once, twice, before replying. Damn, and here I was, enjoying my peaceful morning.

That's rough. I hate to tell you, but you'll never be rid of me now, Sweetie. Jake could hear her evil cackling in his head, a sign, perhaps, that he'd been spending too much time with the redheaded minx of a woman.

Smirking down at his lap, his fingers slid across the keys. I'll never recover.

Simone cleared her throat, sipping her mug of coffee with dead, predatory eyes, and like a child caught playing with a forbidden toy, Jake's back went ramrod straight. Her red-lined lips curled into something between a scowl and a smile. "What's funny?"

"What?"

"You've been smiling, practically giggling to yourself since we sat down." She set her mug down and wildly gestured with her hands before moving them to settle under her chin. "So, what's funny?"

Jake's mood almost instantly deflated as he shrugged. "I don't - it's nothing."

She hummed, clearly unhappy with his answer. "How typical."

"Simone-"

"No," she replied, softer as her shoulders fell and she looked defeated. "I didn't ask you to come to yell at you, Jake. I just… I miss you."

For the first time in months, he saw the softer side of Simone - the side that had raised him. She blinked a few tears away as she straightened in her seat, clearing her throat to keep her voice from breaking. Guilt filled him, a sense that he'd been neglecting her… Abandoning her made him sick to his stomach. "I miss you too. I'm… I'm sorry things have been so strained."

She smiled, a thoughtful look taking over her sad face. “It’s not entirely your fault. I’m guilty of letting things get to this point as well. What matters is we’re still here… Together.”

“Always,” he replied softly, a calm reassurance washing over him.

From there, things flowed smoothly. Conversation with Simone returned to how it always was, natural, honest, and open. The two of them laughed together and caught one another up with the gossip of the restaurant. She took a drink of her coffee and laughed. “It’s been rather enjoyable watching Howard freak out every night.”

Jake laughed with her. “Hell yeah, it has been. I don’t know what’s been going on with the schedule, but I have been thoroughly enjoying it.”

There was a short moment where Jake thought he saw something fill her eyes, a look of knowledge and a slight quirk of her lips before she covered it with a sigh. “It has made me a bit worried at times.”

“Worried?”

“For the others,” she answered. “Sasha and Ari and the lot of them haven’t exactly had things easy lately. I just hope they’re all doing alright under all the pressure.”

Jake smiled, a fond, warm feeling filling his chest as it appeared that Simone had gone back to how she’d always been. Kind and loving, and concerned for those around her. She helped people with things, and she was much better at it than he was. “They’ve been alright as far as I can tell. Ari’s got a girlfriend to help keep her grounded. Heather’s got that cook she’s been seeing. Scott’s Scott. Sasha’s sober-”

“Sasha’s sober?” Simone asked, eyes slightly wider in shock.

“Yeah,” he replied. “He has been for a while now.”

“Interesting.” She mused.

His phone vibrated again, and that smile returned to his face. Aww, don’t worry, tough guy. I’ll try to make the time as enjoyable as possible.

"So, how is your new fling?" Simone suddenly asked, smiling with that gleam in her eyes she always got when he gossiped to her. "Anyone I know?"

"No," Jake said, shaking his head. "It's nothing like that."

There was a long pause, a silence that was as stiff and unnatural as the skyscrapers that surrounded them. "You will tell me when that changes… Won't you?"

Jake caught her meaning without her having to voice it. Simone was asking him to be honest with her about the nature of things with Lena. He nodded, responding with a chuckle meant to put her at ease. "Trust me, I don't think you'll have to worry about anything like that."

“That’s good,” she said. “Though I have been meaning to ask if Lena has been alright lately. After everything with her mother and the stress I unknowingly caused, I’ve been worried about her.”

“She’s been alright,” Jake assured her. Simone made a noise, her brow arching slightly. “Why? Has she said anything to you?”

“Oh no,” she said, waving him off. “She’s not said anything to me, but she does seem like the type that would keep things like that bottled up to spare others.”

“And you think she’s been doing that?”

Simone shrugged before reaching over the table and holding his hand. “Breathe, love. You know her better than I do, so if she seems normal to you, then I’m sure she’s fine.”

It was then that Jake realized that ever since he’d left the bar last night, a feeling… hideous and slightly selfish had plagued him. He’d watched the entire encounter and had prepared himself for the worst. He was ready to follow Lena to The Cape, but instead, she was fine. She appeared a bit dazed, but after a minute or two, she’d reached out, touched him, and held a casual conversation as though nothing had happened. It was a pattern he’d taken note of early on, the way she would brush off serious moments where her life was in danger and push forward without second thought or care. He’d found it odd the first time and had written it off as them not being close enough for sharing deep emotions. But now, it was clear she did this often enough.

He had no clue why she’d care so little about her own safety, but that feeling, as ugly as it was, was something valid. He was frustrated. Angry that she didn’t even blink when someone threw a rock through her window intended for her. Angry that she’d reacted so little after almost drowning in the ocean or getting cut with a knife. Angry that Lena Harrow, a woman that meant more to him than words could express, had not even considered just how important her life was to him, to all of them. As Jake walked to work with Simone beside him, the feeling festered.

*

I watched the drones of people passing by the diner where Prue and Quinn ate their breakfast, my mind still letting that dream play. It wasn't like dreaming of Jake was new. I'd had at least a dozen over the past months, but those were… They were sexual, raw things fueled by the underlying well of desire that everyone had. Jake being at the center was just proximity. Having not had sex in a while didn't help the dreams die down. But that dream was different.

There was nothing too sexual, nothing that compared to the others, but I felt impossibly more shaken by it than those. It wasn't about Jake but about how I felt in an unknown place… How I didn't react at all when he grabbed me. Instead of falling into a terrifying memory of Tony or my mother when his arms had wrapped around me, I was flooded with warmth. I was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was safe. Jake made me feel safe.

It was just a dream, I reminded myself. But even that reminder couldn't account for all the other times Jake had made me feel that way. Times I'd apparently been able to ignore until now. Dreams often made little sense, they were a science still discussed and debated among even the brightest minds. Yet one thing everyone agreed on was that dreams were messages sent by our subconscious to warn us of threats and to help us realize things of importance. That knowledge only made me feel more confused. Was Jake a threat? Or was he something important? Was this dream meant to be a warning or some realization?

A hand waved in front of me, pulling my attention to Prue as she asked, with furrowed brows and concern in her eyes, "You're being quiet. Is everything okay?"

I sighed. "Just in my head. Sorry."

Quinn rolled her eyes, saying and signing, "Let me guess. This is about your little bartender?"

I answered with my middle finger.

Quinn returned the gesture with ease as Prue shook her head at us. "Is something the matter between you two?"

"No."

"Then why the long face?" She wondered.

Buttering a biscuit, Quinn snorted. "Here's a crazy solution to your sour mood. Fuck. Him. I'm telling you, it'll solve all your problems."

"It's not that." This caught her attention. "I… I had a dream about-"

"Ohh, my god!" Quinn interrupted with a whine, throwing her head back. "I love you to death, Lena, but I swear to Christ, if you're trying to pass another sex dream off as platonic, I'm going to throttle you!"

"Shut up!" I insisted. "It wasn't… The dream was normal."

"No sex?" 

"We weren't even fully naked."

"Interesting," Quinn cooed, wiggling her brows. "Sounds like you've got some real feelings to unpack."

I shook my head and set it in my hands. "I knew there were feelings. I mean, of course, I like Jake, he's my friend, and he's…" With a heavy sigh, I melted into the booth. "It was more about how I felt."

The slight shifting breeze in front of my covered face told me Prue was attempting to get my attention, but I couldn't bring myself to move. Quinn cleared her throat and kicked the seat beside me. "Well, how did you feel?"

"Warm," I answered softly. "Safe."

There was a moment of quiet as Quinn translated for Prue. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

I knew the question was Prue's before I even lowered my hands to see Quinn's face. She understood. Having been my friend since we were younger, Quinn knew why feelings of warmth… Of safety were so dangerous. It was because, in this life, safety was more often than not just a fancy lie, an illusion, people told themselves to keep from thinking about all the horrible things in the world. Things that could and did happen. Things that happened to me and Quinn and Patrick and Dom and Jake and Ozzy and everyone else that was unlucky enough.

Prue didn't have life easy either, but she grew up under different circumstances, better ones. She grew up in a stable home with two parents that loved and protected her. Quinn and I had always agreed on the simple fact that Prue was the best of us. Funny, talented, confident, and, most importantly, kind, she made everything better. As I looked into Quinn's eyes, it was as if we'd shared the same thought. We make everything worse.

We held that thought for a moment before Quinn nodded, a silent acknowledgment, a gesture meant to reassure me that my feelings… My fears were valid. It had taken me, taken everyone I knew with similar mountains of trauma, years to trust anyone, even family. Yet, I trusted Jake… I felt safe with him after just a few months of knowing him. It was frightening and entirely foreign and not something I'd expected or realized fully before now.

Prue tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled. Beautiful and kind, Prue said, "Good or bad, you still have us."

"Thanks," I whispered, signing a quick but no less heartfelt, "I love you guys."

Her eyes shifted to my plate. "Are you going to eat that bacon?"

I set the greasy meat on her plate, smiling as she tugged me into her side and kissed my cheek. A different kind of warmth, simple and innocent, eased my conflicting feelings. Though some feelings still seemed to make me tense and confused, love certainly wasn't one of them anymore.

When I arrived at 22West the chaos was palpable. While the bikers that had secretly tailed me waited outside, casually moving through the busy crowds of people and traffic and hanging out in the old bodega across the street, I was thrust into a kitchen of sweltering heat, and Scott hurriedly rushed the team through prep. 

"Holy shit," I breathed.

Scott's scowl was set as he glanced up at me. "Hurry and change. All hands on deck."

"What's going on?"

"The fuck do you think?"

"Another scheduling mixup?"

"Yep." He shook his head, taking a sharpened knife and chopping an onion. "Now hurry up!"

I rushed to the staircase, hurrying up each step. "Yes, chef!"

Jake barely flinched when I collided with his chest. With a chuckle, he steadily me. "Easy there, princess, no need to throw yourself at me."

"You're so funny," I replied, slipping past him with a smile. "Scott's freaking out, so I gotta get ready."

He leaned against the door frame. "How's your neck?"

I halted in the quick stripping of my shoes and looked at him, tentatively pressing my fingers to the bandage that kept the small cut covered. "It's fine."

"Some asshole almost cut your throat open," he replied, almost angry. "And you're just fine?"

"I…" Sighing, I shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

Jake shook his head. "That seems to be the theme, doesn't it?"

"What's crawled up your ass today? You seemed fine with it all last night."

Mimicking my shrug, he held my gaze. "Maybe I just realized you'll never really let anyone help you."

"That's not fair." I glared at him. "And not true."

"What's not fair is you just expecting me to not say anything when you almost die because of some crazy person throwing a rock through your window and putting a knife to your neck." He paused and relaxed his tense posture slightly. "I was scared. When I shoved through that crowd and saw you covered in blood… I was scared, Lena."

"I…" Fear was an odd thing for people like me. People that had seen and lived through horrors most people never knew. Shocked would have been a more accurate word, but I doubted Jake cared about the words I used. "I'm sorry about last night being so fucked and about acting like it didn't happen."

"It's not your fault that it happened," he assured me. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to pretend like any of this is normal."

I chuckled and put my shoes in my locker. "It's not normal, but for me, it's not exactly out of the ordinary either."

He gave me a considering look. "Are you ever gonna explain what that means to me?"

"It's…" I turned away from him, focusing on my locker. "There's a lot of shit I've put behind me, or have tried to, and some of it comes with some nasty people that wanna fuck my shit up." For a minute, I really missed having my dad's jacket. I missed the comfort it brought me in situations like this. "I want to tell you about it. I do. But it's… It's not easy."

Jake moved like he was water, his silent steps bringing him beside me. His arms wrapped around me awkwardly. "Look, I get it. Just… don't forget you matter. Your life, your peace, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, matters."

That warmth, that sickly sweet feeling of safety and security, was back. It was wrapped around me, smothering me in Jake. His cologne, his voice, the feel of his arms around me, the faint memory of his leather jacket, the memories of every dream I'd had of him. Oh, how I wanted to stay wrapped in that feeling forever. But that tainted, ugly, corrupted voice that was still so entangled in my very being made doubt and fear wash over that feeling.

I carefully turned, offering Jake a slightly tense smile. "Thank you."

It was clear he could sense the sudden tenseness that had filled me, but with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, Jake let it be. The commotion of the kitchen grew unimaginable now as Scott's loud voice echoed through the stairwell. Jake smirked, unable to hide the enjoyment he got from everyone going insane. "Better get down there, or Scott's gonna start throwing things."

"And you wouldn't?"

"I don't," he replied. "I was born for this shit."

"Hmm."

The cocky grin he sent me on his way out made my heart sputter. Watching the doorway for a second too long after he left, I shook my head of the less-than-work-appropriate thoughts and resumed changing. Scott had the kitchen in full swing as I hopped between the open positions, turning the chaos of the night into something better.

Everyone was in a horrible mood. The cooks shoved and bickered over having no space while the servers fought among themselves over petty things. Simone's never wavering smile made me irrationally heated, but it was Olive's loud and obnoxious voice filling every moment of silence with overconfident boasting and pointless jabbering that really made things difficult. Still, I kept my head up, and I found ways to lighten the tension.

Sasha barreled through the doors and stuck a finger in Heather's face. "You pampered privileged brat!"

"Oh fuck off!" She sneered, shoving his finger out of her face.

Scott groaned, throwing his rag down and stepping in between them. "What the fuck is going on?"

"She stole my sale!" Sasha insisted. "Sneaky cunt talked my take into another bottle of wine, but now they want her to get the tip."

"I wouldn't have had to step in if you'd paid attention to your tables."

The two of them raged like feral street cats. "ENOUGH!" All eyes turned to me. "My god, pull it together! Heather split the tip with Sasha. Sasha, kiss the guest's asses better. And everyone get the fuck back to work!"

Silence filled the kitchen as Isaac and another cook slid five plates onto the outgoing table. "Um… Table fifteen is up."

Sasha took three plates, turning and looking at Heather. "Follow me?"

"Yeah," she replied with a sigh, picking up the leftover dishes.

Scott and I rejoined the line, working quickly to make up for the time lost by the distraction. "You did good. Those morons would've been at it all night."

I laughed. "Everyone's just under a lot of pressure."

"Well, you seem to handle it better than most."

"Thanks chef." 

Everyone soldiered on through the remainder of the night, luckily no more petty fights broke out and while overbooked the guests seemed easy enough to please. By the end of service I was standing next to Santos helping him and the rest of the dishwashers finish up all while making jokes and telling stories to help  keep everyone's spirits high. The servers hurried upstairs, Simone sparing me a smile as she walked past without Olive by her side.

"Tiger!" Sasha shouted. "Have I ever told you how positively annoying your infectious goodwill is?"

"No."

He smiled, squeezing my cheek. "Well, It's absolutely horrendous and I hate it."

"Love you too Russian bastard," I replied. He flipped me off and headed up the stairs.

*

The night had been horrible, truly one of the worst ones since all the scheduling fuck ups began. Jake heard multiple squabbles echoing from the kitchen and wine cellar, but lucky for the sloppy servers he was good at his job. Nicky finished taking stock of the bar while Jake counted tips, hoping to finish before the group returned looking to drown their shitty moods. "Did you make good money tonight?"

The voice was sweet, sickly so, and he turned his head to find Olive sliding into the space beside him. Here we go, he thought, turning his attention away from her. "Can't complain."

"Well you are rather charismatic when you want to be," she said, running her fingers up his arm. "It's one of the things I like about you."

"Good lord," Nicky mumbled, trying to stifle a laugh.

Jake sighed. Months ago, before Lena, he'd get a real kick out of Olive's whole act. Hell he probably would have fucked her a few times if she was a tolerant lay. But now, her constant presence and her attention was unwanted and unnecessary. "What's your game?"

"I'm gonna go get changed," Nicky said quickly as he fled from the bar.

"What do you mean?"

Jake gestured to her hair. "Are you just trying to prove some point or is this seriously you trying to replace Lena because your mom didn't love you enough?"

Olive pushed herself up against him, rolling her eyes. "I want you. No game. No fuss. Unlike some people I'm not afraid to go after what I want."

The dig at Lena was obvious and so wrong Jake laughed in her face. "You don't even know what you want. You think if you act like her, dress like her or look like her that everything will just magically click. Well, life's not that easy and neither am I."

"That's not what I've heard." She insisted, ignoring his insults. "I've heard the gossip, you haven't had sex in months. Months all because she wants to be an upright brat. You don't owe her anything Jake, and she's not going to give you what you want… What you deserve. So come on, what's stopping you?"

That's it. He set the money down, turning to face her fully. "I'll make this as clear as I can since you seem so slow. I don't want to fuck you. Most of the time I don't even want to look at you. You, Olive or Olivia whatever the fuck your name is, are pathetic. I. Don't. Want. You. I will never want you."

*

After finishing the dishes and telling Nicky I'd cover the bar for him I made my way toward the front. As I opened the door I just barely had time to move as Olive rushed out from behind the bar past me. “She doesn’t seem happy.”

“She’s probably not,” Jake replied with a thin smile.

“Should I be careful around the stairs?”

“You should be fine,” he said, walking toward me. “Guess she just can’t handle my charm.”

I laughed, standing my ground as he entered my space like all the times he’d done it before. “Well, her loss. You are quite charming."

He laughed a bit and shrugged. "You helping me with the masses tonight?"

"Looks like it."

"Good. I like having you behind a bar."

I smirked, pressing against his chest. "You haven't had me behind a bar." His eyes darkened as he caught my play on his words. "Yet."

His eyebrows rose. "Not gonna leave me hanging again?"

"You're really not gonna let that go are you?"

"Nope."

The crowd of coworkers was demanding after a long night of horrible service, but Jake and I made a good team. Eventually we all closed things down and Jake and I headed upstairs to change. Howard stood in the locker room, quickly straightening up as we entered. "Lena," his eyes darted to Jake. "I was hoping to speak with you before you left."

I folded my arms. "Speak then."

"In private."

"Am I fired?" I asked.

"No!" Howard answered quickly. He sighed, taking a step forward, one Jake almost matched. "I wanted to apologize. I knew things with your mother were… I… I shouldn't have put you in that position."

I nodded. "I'm glad you realize that and I accept your apology Howard."

He smiled. "Thank you. I…" Once again he looked at Jake and straightened his back. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

Once he was gone Jake scoffed. "What a dick."

"Apologizing hardly makes someone a dick."

"Please," he insisted, changing. "He only did it to get back in your good graces. He didn't mean it."

I changed as well, shaking my head at him. "Howard's strict, but he's not horrible."

"Agree to disagree." He closed his locker, leaning back to watch me fix my top. "We going out tonight?"

I shrugged. "Ozzy's doing another karaoke night."

"Sounds fun." He stood up straight, following me out. "You gonna sing?"

"Fuck no." I bumped his shoulder. "Are you?"

"No," he laughed. "I don't think anyone wants to hear that."

"I do!" I replied, smiling at him. "I bet you're a good singer."

Smirking, he tilted his head. "Why's that?"

"Because you have such a pretty voice," I answered. "Especially when you're breathlessly whining my name."

Jake leaned in, breath caressing my face as he said, soft and slow, "You're it."

I hadn't felt the light touch of his hand on my shoulder until he hurried past our friends with two large strides. "That's cheating!"

*

On the stage, Patrick was spinning and dancing fancily, singing Enya's Orinoco Flow with every ounce of passion he could. The crowd of drunken patrons both booed and cheered him on. All of my friends that sat in our booth were in hysterics laughing. This kind of thing probably seemed odd to them, considering Patrick's build, appearance, and profession, but to me, this was a glimpse back into our childhood. Enya was always his favorite.

Sasha downed the last shot at the table and pointed at me. "Your dirty bitch ass is singing tonight!"

"Good luck with that," Quinn mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

"Problem Quinn?" I asked.

She set her glass down, nodding. "You're being a buzzkill!"

Jake's smirk did little to help me contain my laugh. "How am I being a buzzkill?"

"You won't sing with us!" She whined. "Prue and I have been begging you every karaoke night! Last time it was because your grumpy bartender was throwing hands in the street. The time before that, you said your throat hurt. And so the excuses go on!"

I shrugged. "Maybe I just don't want to sing."

"But you're so good at it!" She continued. "And it's more fun with all of us! Prue won't even go up without both of us there."

Jake looked at me again, this time with a slightly raised brow. "Sounds like solid evidence to me, buzzkill."

Shoving my elbow into his arm, I cocked my head. "I'm a buzzkill now? I'll have to remember that next time you call me late at night."

"You were a buzzkill then, too," he retorted. "From what I understand, hanging up on a friend in a time of need is considered rude."

The crowd erupted into cheers as Patrick stepped off the stage with an over-exaggerated bow. He made his way to our table, accepting high fives and fiat jumps along the way until he reached his drink and chugged it. Breathlessly wiping the excess from his mouth, he smirked at me. "Are you going up tonight?"

Quinn nodded, making her eyes as big as possible as she pursued her lips out, begging me. I turned in my booth seat, resting fully against Jake and letting my legs stretch out over the empty seat. "Nope."

"Copperhead?" Quinn asked, glaring at me over the table. "Execute operation raccoon."

"Wait-" I tried.

Patrick grabbed my ankles, pulling me away from Jake's cocoon of warmth as he dragged me out of the seat. "Roger that, Peach. Come on, little sis, it'll be fun!"

"Patrick!" I growled as he hoisted me up over his shoulder.

With a slight groan in his voice, he nodded to Quinn. "This a duet or a solo act?"

Chuckling, she joined us, pinching my cheek and dodging my hands as I waved them around, trying to slap her. "Bitch you're lucky I'm coming up with you at all after that!"

Prue's face lit up as she hopped away from Will's side. "Are we going up?"

"Hell yeah, we are!" Quinn signed, throwing an arm around her. "Every girl group has at least three members. The cute one, you darling Prue. The sexy one, me, obviously. And the bitch-"

I scoffed. "Someone's delusional."

"See? Bitch." She flipped me off.

Patrick hurried up the stage and popped me back on my feet. "Give 'em hell, little sis."

"I'll deal with you later," I growled.

*

Jake watched Patrick sling Lena over his shoulder, carrying his sister toward the stage as she moved like a crazed raccoon trying to shake herself free of his grip. After hearing about karaoke night, Jake couldn't help but secretly hope Lena would take the stage. Part of him wanted her to be bad at it. At least then, it'd be easier to remember that she wasn't perfect, but the other somehow knew she wouldn't be. So he sat up in their little booth and watched the siblings argue for a moment before Lena finally seemed to cave.

Arms crossed and a bitter, but still slightly amused, scowl on her face, she stood next to her friends as they flipped through the song booklet. Jake couldn't help himself as he lifted his hands up and signed one of the only two words he remembered from Prue. "Smile."

She shook her head, clearly fighting a grin as she lifted her finger and flipped him off before signing back the only other word he remembered. "Asshole."

He couldn't have contained the laugh even if he'd tried. From beside him, he noticed Peter's smile grow, and for a second, he wanted to ask him why, but then the drug-dealing biker sat down across from him. "Give us the booth Pete."

Peter nodded, sliding out of Lena's seat and walking with his brother to the bar. Dom hadn't given him any trouble since the first time he ran into the man in the alley, but Jake still tensed. With a forced tone of calm and uncaring, he asked, "Is there a problem?"

The biker smirked. "I ain't gonna kick your ass or nothing if that's what you're asking."

"Can't blame me for being on the cautious side after the other night."

"A fair point." He turned his head, looking over at the stage where Lena was now trying to help her friends decide on a song. "I wanted to say thank you."

"What for?"

"Being with her after I…" Shaking his head, Dom sighed. "Trouble always seems to follow her, and I guess lately I've been realizing more and more that I can't always be there to keep her head above water." On that, it seemed Jake and the drug dealer agreed. Lena was a woman that lived just a few steps ahead of the storm, and while he knew little about what she had put behind her that made everyone so damn protective, he knew enough to recognize the danger. "I didn't think you were gonna stick around this long. I took one look at you, a hot-headed, ill-tempered little boy running his mouth to anyone and everyone, and figured you'd run out of steam long before now." With a chuckle and a smile that Jake would describe as almost friendly, he said, "Guess I'm saying I'm glad you're still here to help keep her out of trouble."

It felt weird, having someone - especially someone like Dom - thank him. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been sincerely thanked for anything. It was rare and often tied to a string of favors. This wasn't, though. This was a type of gratitude Jake was unfamiliar with, a type that required practically nothing from him. Dom, a man who commanded respect, thanked him for something that Jake enjoyed. "I'm just being a friend."

The man shook his head. "Lena has plenty of friends, but none of them are like you. Whether you see it or not, you're important to her. Don't waste it pretending it's as simple as friendship."

His gut instinct to deny the truth of Dom's words came bubbling up his throat, but anything he would've said was silenced as the music finally came roaring to life on stage. The girls huddled around the singular microphone, Quinn on the left, Lena on the right, and Prue in the center with her hands raised up in an easy signing position. I Got You, Babe, by Sonny and Cher, was not the song he'd imagined them choosing, but it fit the trio well.

Lena's voice was light and perfectly melodic as she sang Cher's lines with a smile. Quinn's naturally lower voice suited Sonny's part well enough; the impression she had of the old singer, however, did not. Giggling would occasionally fill the microphone as Prue attempted to vocalize the background harmony while she signed the words. It was chaotic, but not a single person in the crowd complained as they sang along and cheered the trio on.

Ozzy's tall figure stood next to their booth with a smile. "Been a while since I've heard that voice."

"She doesn't sing often?" He asked, wondering why she wouldn't with a voice like that.

"She used to." He chuckled. "Drove everyone damn crazy some mornings. She stopped after Jack passed." The bar owner's face grew solemn as he looked over at Dom. "Seems like our girl's getting some of that spirit back."

The biker glanced at Jake, nodding. "Looks like it."

"I got you, babe."

*

Hearing the crowd's encouraging cheers and their enthusiastic waves and smiles made me feel almost giddy. It had been so long since I’d been on the stage, so long since I’d really let myself enjoy the little things that had once been normal. My eyes lifted to the bar, where just for a moment, I could have sworn I saw my dad’s hulking figure standing at the office door. Prue squealed beside me, latching onto my arm and shaking me. “That was so much fun!”

Quinn wrapped an arm around me with a smug smirk. “Told ya!”

I shook it off, returning their smiles. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. Whatever!”

We made our way back to the table, where Ozzy served a round of drinks to Dom and Jake, who sat across from one another in a way that made me suspicious. Oz turned, wrapping me in a bone-crushing hug. “My little showstopper!”

“Oz!” I giggled. “It was hardly showstopping.”

“Nonsense, it’s you, so it’s always magnificent.”

Once he let me go, I turned my gaze back to the two men sitting in the booth. “Having a nice conversation?”

Dom looked over at Jake and shrugged a shoulder. “I was perfectly pleasant.”

“Sure.” I nodded to Jake, who looked at Dom with an uncertain expression. “You wanna get out of here for a bit?”

He knew what I meant and carefully slid out of the booth. “Sure.”

Once the noise from the bar faded and the slightly chilled breeze washed over us in the alley, I turned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered, slightly confused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Dom can be…” The image of him bloody and angry popped into my mind. “Overprotective.”

“I noticed.” Jake opened the gym door, holding it for me as we slid through. “He was just thanking me for helping out the other night.”

My eyes widened slightly as I searched Jake's face, waiting for some kind of punchline. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "Why does he not do that often?"

"No. Dom's not exactly the most vocal guy." I bumped his shoulder. "He must like you."

Before Jake could answer, Patrick whistled. "Oi! Jerky Jake, grab some gloves and hop in the ring!"

Jake looked at him with confusion. "Aren't we meeting tomorrow morning?"

"We are. It ain't me you're gonna fight tonight."

Peter moved from inside the ring and smiled. "I'm the challenger. If you're down for a quick match."

Looking over at me, the silent question hung between us. Is this okay? I shrugged. "If you think you can take him, hop on in, Jerky Jake."

"If I win, do I get a new name?" He asked, rolling his eyes.

"No," Patrick and I answered.

He draped his jacket over my shoulders before walking off toward the locker room. I hid my smile as I shoved my hands through his sleeves. Looking up at Peter, I sighed. "Are you up for this?"

He made a face, annoyed and slightly worried. "I want to at least try, and Jake's honorable enough not to kill me."

"He's also still kind of shit." Patrick shrugged. "It's the truth!"

Jake joined us again moments later, now dressed in more casual breathable clothes. He hopped into the ring and got to work preparing for a match.

I leaned on the ropes, watching Jake secure his gloves, and listened to Patrick's instructions. "Peter's got the technical advantage while you've got the physical. Don't get cocky."

"And just be prepared," I added. "Win or lose, he's gonna be such a good sport it'll annoy the hell out of you."

Jake smiled. "Noted." Once Patrick left his side to talk to Peter, he stepped closer. "Gonna give me a good luck kiss, princess?"

I leaned forward, my lips hovering over his. "Raincheck?"

He bit his cheek and shook his head. "Now you're just being mean."

"Try not to get your ass kicked too bad. It'd really fuck up your reputation, tough guy."

The match itself was slower than a normal one would be, and while Peter looked in better shape than he had months ago, he was still struggling to keep up. Jake was clearly holding back, taking Peter's hits without even really attempting to dish any out, and my brother knew it. He stopped, lowering his arms with a sigh. "Hit me."

Jake followed through with a weak punch to Peter's shoulder. The movement barely rocked him. Pete shook his head. "Fucking hit me, Jake."

"I'm not gonna hit you, Peter," he replied.

"Then we're gonna be here all night." Peter landed another slow blow. "HIT ME!"

That was when Jake moved faster than he intended, throwing a real punch that hit my brother square in the gut. Patrick and I jumped slightly, hands tight on the ropes as we prepared to jump over and help him. Jake was frozen in place as he looked down at my brother, who lay across the mat, breathing heavily.

Peter's laughter instantly put us all at ease. "Well, shit! You've got some chance at this, after all!" Jake held out a hand and helped him to his feet. Peter shook his hand, his smile never faltering. "Keep that up, and you'll be ready for a real match in no time, little brother."

The smile on Jake's face said it all as he looked at me. "You're right. That is annoying."

"I told you," I replied with a grin.

Patrick tucked under the ropes and slapped him on the shoulder. "Hell yes! Just a bit more practice on that footwork, and you'll be ready for a real fight."

As Jake changed, I slapped Peter's arm. "What the hell was that?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to see if I was strong enough to take a hit."

Patrick nodded along. "Well, you are."

"You're both fucking stupid."

I made my way out into the alley, sitting on the couch and letting Whisky jump in my lap. Jake joined us shortly, awkwardly sitting next to me. "Are you mad?"

"That you punched my idiot brother?" I laughed. "No."

"Thank god," he breathed, reaching over to pet Whisky. 

Usually, he'd have lit a cigarette already, but tonight he just leaned into my side and pet the hairless cat. "No smoke tonight?"

"Nah," he replied. "I don't really feel like I need one."

"Okay," I replied, smiling. "Whisky isn't too big a fan of the smell anyway."

Jake scoffed and shook his head. "Hemingway loves the smell."

*

The brush smoothed along the surface of the canvas, leaving a thin trail of vibrant cerulean in the path I carved. Soft, even strokes helped mingle the dark shade with the lighter ones just enough to shift the overall hue of the waves. Teal paint bled into the water as I gently dipped the tip of the brush in the small glass jar, washing it around for a moment and watching the color move through the water before I pulled it out and applied the wet brush to the canvas, smoothing over the paint to blend it further.

The noise of the city outside was almost unnoticeable as I lost myself in the art and to the feeling of freedom I'd long forgotten it brought me. Art. The expression or application of human creative skill and imagination. To the billions of people that populated this planet, art was subjective to the eyes that beheld it. Each piece, each artist, a topic of debate to try and put a physical value or price tag on it to determine its worth. A pointless venture, one that changed more than the phases of the moon.

I remembered the stifling feeling of those rich, snobbish eyes on my paintings. I remembered feeling naked under the expensive and lavish gown my mother and Tony had squeezed me into. Most of all, I remembered looking at the painting everyone admired and wondering in my mind, the only place of solace I'd been allowed, why I felt nothing. No matter how many people complimented my work or technique, the piece in front of me remained empty. A void, I'd realized years later, a place for me to depict how I felt beneath the makeup and clothing. A silent cry for help that no one heard but me.

"So much talent! And for one so young!" An older woman adorned in fine silk and sparkling jewels cried out as she smiled at the looming shadow beside me. "You must be a very proud patron."

His laugh, deep and foreboding, sent chills down my spine. The weight of his arm curling possessively around my shoulders and his hand squeezing my arm made me feel nauseous. "Very proud indeed. Lena is an extraordinary girl."

The woman practically swooned at him, eating up his fake smile and fake words with glee. "Oh, Anthony! How did you ever come to discover such a hidden talent?"

"Hidden?" Tony questioned with a shake of his head. "It was never hidden from me. Nothing is, right, Lena?"

I looked up, daring to meet his gaze as the hand on my arm squeezed tighter. The dead gray of them spoke the words he didn't, his smile never faltering. "Right."

All too pleased with my compliance, he turned away, re-engaging in conversation. From across the room, my mother scowled at me, waiting until the passersby had left before storming over to us and turning me, pulling roughly on my hair to tighten it back into place. "Are you trying to embarrass us?" Before I could answer, she turned me again and shoved against my chest, forcing my back straighter. "Stand up straight, Lena! Chin up, neck extended!"

My eyes stung with repressed tears that the pain my fractured rib caused me in this position. My breaths were shallower, the pressure of my injuries making sure I got less air than I needed. Tony set a hand on my mother's cheek, and she calmed instantly, meeting his eyes with a sparkling gaze and a soft smile. "Relax, Jennifer, everyone's so focused on her painting they'll hardly remember her slouching."

"You're right," she said with a laugh. "You always are, dear Anthony."

I spared a look at the painting that hung beside me, bathed in light to properly showcase the colors. Intricate and ornate and entirely void of life. An empty thing created simply to fill space. A reflection of myself.

The brush held firm on the canvas as I breathed through the mild sensation of old panic and hopelessness. Soon the steadiness of the brush began to waver as tremors overtook my hands. The brush fell to the floor, followed closely by the glass jar of colored water as I moved my arm out to steady myself on the stool.

My front door slammed open, and Ryker shoved himself inside, gun in his hand and eyes scanning the room before quickly finding me. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I breathed out. "Nothing happened. I just…"

He put the gun away and came to my side, carefully pulling me into his arms and hugging me. "What do you need?"

I closed my eyes, trying to slow my breathing and regain control of my still-shaking hands. "Just stay and talk."

"That I can do," Ryker insisted.

"Thank you."

He talked for what felt like hours, telling me every story he could think of, most at Dom's expense. Eventually, my body relaxed, and Ryker eased into moving around my living room, helping me reorganize the massive piles of canvases, both painted and blank. He set a pile of sketchbooks down on my counter and smiled. "I remember when you always had one of these with you. Rain or shine, no matter where you went, you had one of your little books and some pencils."

I leafed through the colored pages, admiring the scribbles of my younger self. "Yeah, it was nice getting to draw stuff I wanted to."

With a wide grin, he turned the sketchbook he'd been looking through toward me, revealing my old sketch of him. "You sure know how to capture my good side."

"Every side is your good side," I reassured him, punching his cheek and snatching the book out of his hand.

It was old, bound in rich red leather, and practically falling apart. One of my oldest sketchbooks and one filled with faces I'd drawn. My dad. Ozzy. Patrick. Peter. Nana and Abdul. Quinn. Prue. Everyone that meant something to me. The pages were stained with smudges, but the pictures I'd drawn still held some life in them. Compared to my most recent one, the one I'd filled with new faces from 22West, it looked like a book you'd find in some dumpster.

I set the book beside my newer one, blue leather still tightly bound beside the old one. Ryker helped himself to some leftovers as my phone rang. The wide smile practically made my cheeks hurt as I looked down at Jake's familiar number. "Hello?"

"Hey," he answered, sounding a bit breathless. "You busy?"

"Nope," I replied, shooing Ryker out of my apartment. "What's up?"

"Bored. Figured you'd have something for me to do."

I cleaned up after Ryker, opting to save the dishes for later. "Did you just finish your training session with Patrick?"

Jake chuckled. "Yeah, he got in a few good hits today."

"Well, how about some lunch at Nana's to help with your aches and pains, tough guy?"

"Sounds fun. See you there."

"See you there."

Nana's was just a few blocks down the road, but by the time I'd changed, I was certain Jake would be waiting for me outside. Instead, I found him sitting at a table, laughing with Nana as she set plates upon plates of food down in front of him. When she turned to get more, she saw me, her eyes lighting up with joy. “There she is! My lovely girl!”

I kissed her cheeks and smiled at her. “Hi, Nana. Trying to make him pop?”

Jake laughed at my joke while Nana swatted my arm. “He’s thin! The boy needs to eat!”

“Well,” I said, sitting down across from him. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am,” he replied with a smile. “Besides, the food here is so good I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist.”

I nodded. “That’s how she gets you.”

“Truly dastardly.”

We ate and talked for an hour or so before we were roped into delivering more food to Prue and Ozzy. Prue and Katie welcomed us with open arms and growling stomachs. Prue taught Jake some more words in sign language. The sight of him so intentionally paying attention and trying to follow along with her teachings without words made my heart swell. Katie nudged me. "Not gonna fuck him, my ass."

I scoffed at her. "I'm not."

"Oh, sure!" She replied with a grin. "I might not be very smart, but even I know what that look means!"

Prue made a loud noise, a cheer, as Jake got the sign right. Waving me over, she pointed to him. "Watch!"

Jake repeated the motions just as she had. "I like Lena Harrow."

My eyes went wide, and my face burned as Jake looked up with a tilt of his head. "What did I say?"

"Nothing!" I replied over Katie. Turning to Prue, I signed, "I'm gonna get you back for that bitch."

"What? I thought it was cute!" She giggled, giving Jake a hug. "He's a quick learner."

"What's she saying?"

"That you're a quick study," I replied. "Come on, you don't need any more compliments."

Just as we turned, Patrick walked through the door, his hair smoothed back and his clothes looking better than usual as he picked at the bouquet of flowers in his hand. Jake and I paused, all three of us staring at each other, questions waiting on each of our tongues. "Not a word, Lena." My brother warned. "Or I'll make my boyfriend jokes even worse." He added in Irish.

I nodded. "Good to see you, big brother."

"Jake," Patrick greeted as he passed to stand at the front desk, where Katie returned, eyes wide and cheeks pink as she looked at him and the flowers.

"Patrick," Jake replied with a grin.

"Have a nice date!" I replaced, slipping out the door as his loud fuck off echoed through the glass.

The bar was slow when Jake and I arrived, moving through the bouncers and the bikers, who all sniffled the air and mumbled about how hungry they were. Ozzy was behind the bar, looking down at a small stack of papers, signing here and there. "Order for the mighty Oz!"

He looked up, smiling at the sound of my voice. "No wonder why it's taken so long! Nana entrusted my meal to the chatterbox!"

I scoffed. "Don't look at me. It's all Jake's fault!"

Jake glanced at me. "Really?"

Ozzy opened his meal, happily digging in before gesturing between the two of us. "What have you two been up to today… together?"

"Lunch," I replied. "So scandalous, I know."

"Well, it seems like fate then that I just so happened to find a box of old photos."

"No!" Ozzy set the box on the bar between him and Jake, easily holding me back with his arm as I tried to reach around him to get it. "Jake, don't even think about looking!"

He'd already pulled out a stack of photos, grinning ear to ear as he flipped through them. "Holy shit. This just became the best day ever." He held one up, one of me and Quinn at the arcade looking like idiots.

I reached over, trying to snatch it from him. "Gimme!"

"Here, look at these ones," Ozzy said, handing him another stack.

"Ozzy!"

The two of them laughed at my expense for twenty minutes. Ozzy even promised to look for the old home videos my dad had recorded for Jake to see before the subject finally changed. The topic, however, didn't exactly spare me any attention. "Did all your paintings make it to your place alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah, they're all still in one piece. Though you were right, I might have too many."

"Paintings?" Jake asked.

"You haven't seen them?" Ozzy asked as I smacked my head on the bar. "Lena is quite the artist!"

"This has been absolute torture," I whined, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "See you later, big guy."

Outside, Jake looked at me again, eyebrows raised. "Paintings?" He repeated.

I groaned. "Seriously? Were the pictures not enough for you?"

"Oh, come on, you did say you'd show me last time we hung out at Nana's."

"Fine, I will, but that means you'll have to return the favor with your photography."

"Deal."

Back at my apartment, Jake sifted through my old canvases and ate up all the stories I’d share with him about each one, eyes bright and focused solely on me. It was addictive and somewhat intimate in ways I didn’t understand. "You have a lot more than I was expecting."

"Yeah," I scratched the back of my neck. "I had a lot of time after moving in with my dad. It was easier to express how I felt with paint. Words… They're harder to put together."

Lifting an old piece of Cape Cod, gloomy and swimming in dark colors and muted tones, he nodded. "I think I understand. I'm not exactly good with words either."

I arched a brow. "No? And here I thought you were charming."

"Flirting doesn't count," he replied with a wink. "We both know I'm good at that."

"Uh-huh."

He moved to my sketchbooks, flipping through the pages of my youth, appreciating each one. He stopped on my dads sketch, smiling at the picture. "You look a lot like him."

The compliment was so genuine and innocent that it almost brought tears to my eyes. I tucked my hair behind my ear and shrugged, suddenly feeling self conscious about the whole thing. "Really? Everyone always said I looked like my mom."

Jake made a face of disgust as he shook his head. "You don't look anything like her. She always looks so… Cold and judgmental, while you," he paused, looking up at me. "You look warm… Approachable like your dad looked."

"Thanks," I whispered.

"What's in this one?" He asked, setting down the older book in favor of the new one, the one he absolutely could not see.

"That one isn't done yet," I replied hastily while also trying to not draw too much attention to it. Still, he started turning the pages. "Wait!"

His mouth curved into a smile at the sight of the sketch of the restaurant. It only kept growing as he continued, flipping through the sketches of our coworkers until he stopped at his. Looking up, those eyes gleamed, prideful and smug. "You drew me?"

I tried snatching it out of his hands, but he quickly moved the book out of the way. "I drew everyone."

"What's this writing at the bottom?"

"Jake!" I jumped for the book again.

"Eyes so blue I drown,

In an ocean vast and deep,

Storm clouds gather,

And the sky cries out.

A cry for death,

A cry for life,

A cry for peace,

Eyes so blue he drowns."

After reading my poor poem, the smile faded slightly, his eyes scanning the words a second time. Then a third. After the fourth readthrough, he finally asked, "You wrote this about me?"

I shrugged, finally catching the edge of the book. He held firm as I tried to pull it from his hands. "Kind of. I'd drawn everyone else but couldn't get your eyes right. You probably thought I was staring at you to be flirty, but a lot of the time, I was trying to get a good look at your eyes. And once I finished them…" This sounds so dumb, I thought. "The words just kind of came to me, and I wrote them down. It's stupid, I know."

"It's actually pretty good." He smiled again, softer than before. Real.

"Oh?" I tried to hide my blush. "Never would have taken you for a man that likes shitty poetry."

"Maybe I just like your shitty poetry."

My face burned under his intensely sincere gaze as I pulled on the book harder. Jake leaned forward, towering over me with a satisfied grin. "Let go."

After a second chuckling at me, he let me take the book, closing it and setting it on the counter. "Are you gonna teach me something about painting now?"

"Do you want me to?" I asked with a nervous laugh.

"Why not?"

"I'm not much of a teacher," I answered.

Jake shrugged off his jacket. "Come on, princess, teach me something."

I relented too quickly, gathering my paints and clean water and setting up a new canvas on my easel. Once everything was ready, I handed Jake my brushes. "Hold these. I have to change."

Slipping into my bedroom, I searched for my usual painting clothes, a baggy T-shirt and shorts, but when those were found at the bottom of my hamper, I had to improvise. The tank top was a size too small, and the shorts were a pair of Patrick's I'd accidentally grabbed, but it'd have to do. Jake was still waiting when I returned. His eyes widened at the sight of my outfit. "Not a word," I warned.

He held a laugh. "You look good."

Grabbing my brushes, I organized them around my station and sighed, settling in the high stool. "Well, where do you want to start?"

"You're the teacher," he retorted, standing close beside me, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. "Why don't you just start, and I'll try to keep up."

"Alright," I picked a large brush dipping it in the water for a minute before wetting the canvas. "We'll start with technique. This is called wet on wet. It's where you wet the canvas before applying paint. It's best for watercolors and bleeding colors together."

He nodded, seemingly paying attention, but I caught a glimpse of that gaze. Dark and hungry and full of mischief. "Wet on wet sounds fun."

I rolled my eyes and squeezed a few drops of paint onto my tray. "Now I'm gonna cover the whole canvas in this yellow-orange color. We can layer more color on top to help us get the perfect  sunset look." Focusing on the canvas, I ignored the clamoring noises off to the side of me until the easel bumped and Jake's hands set on my thighs. Looking down at him, now kneeling in front of my knees, I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing?"

His fingers caught the hem of my shorts, the cigarette hanging from in between his lips, tugging them down impatiently. "Lift." With a sigh, I followed his request, lifting my hips to help him get my pants and underwear off.

"I thought you wanted an art lesson."

Jake smirked, blowing the smoke up toward me before putting it back between his lips, freeing his hands to carefully pull my legs apart. "I do. Just keep going."

"Fine," I huffed, trying to ignore the burning in my cheeks whenever I let myself recognize that he had my entire pussy in his face. The intense hammering of my heart and the pool of pleasure building in my gut as he pulled me forward and gripped my hips in his hands was thrilling and too distracting for me to keep going.

I could feel him breathe smoke out across my skin as he chuckled, tapping my thigh with his fingers. "Is the lesson over?"

"No!" I yipped, shaking myself out of the trance he'd put me in. I refused to give him that kind of satisfaction. "Wet on wet," I continued trying to recall where exactly I'd left off.

"Wet indeed," he teased, dragging his fingers through my folds.

My face, my whole damn body, was on fire. I bit my cheek and kept my eyes trained on the yellow and orange hues in front of me, mixing some red onto the brush and lifting it to stroke across the canvas, making sure to do it as sloppily as I could to ensure Jake got splashed with some of the drops. If it'd bothered him he didn't say. He just continued his lazy motions for a moment and smoked his cigarette. If I hadn't been so concentrated on trying not to moan, I would have complimented his ability to multitask.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued, "Once you mix enough red in around the edges, creating a nice contrast to the yellow, you'll wet the brush again and-" His fingers slid over my clit, making my jolt as the instant pleasurable sensation hit me with a sharp gasp. Jake's blue eyes drank in every bit of it. I breathed out and straightened up again. "And blend out the harsh edges."

"Edges…" I remembered his half-threat, half-promise from Ari's hotel room.  Fuck. He held the cigarette up with a wicked grin. "Hold that for me, princess. I'm gonna need both my hands."

"Jake-" My fingers accepted the cigarette, and the desperate plea for mercy died on my tongue as he gave me a smug look. He'd be insufferable if I admitted defeat after all the shit-talking and all the riling up I'd been doing since that night. So I closed my mouth and gripped my paintings tight. "Don't bump my easel while you're down there."

His smirk widened, and his thumb rolled over my clit again. "Yes, ma'am."

God damn him! I lifted my head up, sucking in a deep breath as his fingers worked my clit in earnest now. Trying to paint with a very attractive bartender between my thighs was not at all what I imagined would happen today. Not that I could really complain. I managed to keep myself fairly composed, only slipping up a few times with heather breaths and some choice curves, but all my resilience just made Jake want it more.

I gave up trying to talk him through my actions when his fingers slid inside me, stealing my breath in seconds and forcing me to bite down on my lower lip to keep from giving into the pent-up moan I held in my throat. His pace was slow and languid, focused on building up the pleasure and pressure rather than trying to bring me to orgasm. It felt good, and he knew it. When my chest started heaving a little harder, he lifted his head up slightly, nodding to the cigarette that faded in between my fingers. "Give me a drag?"

Placing the cigarette between his lips, I let him take a long drag of it before pulling it away to place it in between my own lips. Maybe that'd help calm my nerves. Jake blew the smoke across my skin again, making it break out in goosebumps. His teeth scraped against my inner thigh, and in the blink of an eye, his mouth was on me. "Ah!" I breathed out a startled moan, my legs closing on instinct.

Jake's fingers left me as his large hands wrapped around my thighs, keeping them pried open. The cigarette fell from between my fingers into my paint water, fizzling for a moment as it snuffed out. My eyes closed tightly, the paintbrush pressing hard into the canvas creating long drip lines through the sunset hues. The warmth of Jake's tongue licking and sucking at my core made my legs shake, and my chest burn with the effort to keep my noises inside. He swirled his tongue around my already pulsing clit, and my composure snapped.

The brush clattered to the ground, just narrowly missing his shoulder as my hands slid into his silky hair. He hummed, the vibrations only making my body want more. "Oh my god! Jake," I breathed, head falling back.

He answered my breathless whisper of his name with his teeth, scraping them against my sensitive bud, trying to coax another moan from me. I could practically hear him encouraging me, the sensual whisper of his voice something my mind was well familiar with. Louder. More. Give me more. He pulled me closer again, startling me into leaning back, my hand reaching back to steady myself against the counter.

Jake's hands moved, one sliding up my leg to support my lower back while the other slid up my stomach. He cupped my breast, deft fingers once again working my sensitive nipple through the course material of my shirt. My eyes squeezed shut even tighter, making me see white for a minute as my hands pulled at his hair. "Fuck!" The pleasure building inside me was so close to exploding. "Jake!"

I could feel the corners of his lips lift, smug even now, as his tongue quickened the pace. His blunt nails dug into my back, urging me to let go, to give him the thing he'd been slowly forcing to build inside. "I'm… Shit…" My body was practically shaking now as I dared to look down and meet his eyes. The blue was gone, replaced by black pools of lustful desire. "I'm close."

A single flaming star burned in those dark eyes, a star that seemed to accept my words as some kind of challenge. And he was determined to win. His hand squeezed my breast one last time before disappearing beneath his head, sliding inside me with ease, pumping quickly to match the urgent pace of his tongue as it honed in on my abused clit. My eyes fluttered shut, ragged moans filling my apartment as I begged him, pleading with him to keep going. I could feel how every sound I made, every word I said, affected him.

I came on his fingers and tongue with a cry of his name and a sharp tug on the strands of hair still worn between my fingers. "Jake!"

He licked up every drop of my release before bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them. Once he'd finished he settled back on his feet, grabbing my thighs and squeezing them for a second before he reached over and grabbed my underwear. Smiling, he offered them up. "I believe these are yours."

Ignoring the knowledge that my face was likely redder than the painting in front of us, I snatched them out of his hand. "You don't have to be so smug, you know."

Standing, he shrugged. "No, but it's more fun that way." I tried to stand, nearly tripping as my legs wobbled unsteadily. His smugness only grew as he asked, "Need a hand, princess?"

"No!" I managed to get my underwear back on without falling face-first into the mess of paint that I'd unknowingly made in my orgasmic haze of hands and movement.

Jake whistled, looking at the mess, while I couldn't look anywhere but at him. His hair was standing up, huge chunks of paint staining the dark strands, much brighter shades of red and orange. He turned toward me, looking like he was about to say something snarky, but before he could - and before I could stop myself - I'd taken hold of his shirt and pulled myself up to kiss him.

His lips were stiff at first, surprised by my sudden action, but after a moment had passed, they softened. Jake's hand lifted to cup the back of my head as his lips moved against mine. The light taste of myself lingered on him as my tongue darted out to taste his lips. As he opened his mouth, determined to devour me further, I pulled back.

"I thought we agreed, no kissing," he questioned breathlessly.

"We did..." I scrambled to come up with an excuse better than sorry you just looked so pretty standing in my apartment looking around like an idiot after eating me out. "It just seemed like the best way to thank you for all that hard work." 

Jake fought a smile, dipping his head down to press his lips against mine again. "That one was cause I wanted to."

"Ass."

He caught a glimpse of my handiwork in the mirror and almost snorted laughing. "I think you got more paint on me than you did the canvas!"

I poked at the now-dry paint speckling the sides of his face and stuck in his hair. "Yeah, you're definitely gonna need help getting that out." Tugging him toward my room, "Come on."

Just like with every new space, Jake drank in the sight of my bedroom, curious but respectful. He admired the bed full of pillows and an old pile of half-folded laundry, but the antique wardrobe Quinn thrifted for me held his gaze longer. I watched him from the bathroom doorway, quietly appreciating how naturally he fit into a space I shared with so few. His long fingers ran over the old wood, eyes dazzled by the craftsmanship before him. "Does it live up to your expectations?"

Jake turned his head, eyes dragging down my body. I ducked my head, suddenly too aware of the fact I was only in my old underwear and a slightly too-small tank top covered in dried paint. "Kind of," he said. "I guess I always imagined it'd look like your old room from The Cape. This is more you, though."

"A compliment, I hope," I replied, turning to get my counter cleaned up.

"The highest."

I let the warm water run between my fingers for a minute before turning to look at him. "Shirt off."

Without hesitation, he began tugging the thin white material off. "Thought you'd never ask."

The sight of his chest made me pause, watching every flex and movement with wonder. When his shirt was over his head, I looked away, pulling a stool over to the sink. I set a towel over the edge, acting as a neck pillow for him, and patted the top. "Hop up."

Jake sat down and leaned back, blue eyes shining beneath my bathroom lights as I reached over him and fiddled with the temperature for a moment before letting it fill my palm so I could wet his head.

"It's not too hot, is it?" I asked, looking down at him as I ran my fingers through his damp hair, testing.

Jake looked breathless for a moment, his lips parting ever so slightly as his dark eyes scanned my face before meeting my gaze. "It's fine." The words sounded harsh, but the look on his face told me he hadn't intended for it to be that way. "It feels good."

I smiled, gently massaging his scalp. "I used to do this a lot with Peter and Patrick. They'd always find a way to get gum or something sticky in it. They even got lice once! Patrick swears it was Peter's fault, but of course, Peter claims the opposite."

"Knowing your brothers, it was probably a collective effort."

The laugh that echoed off my bathroom walls was too loud and embarrassing, but Jake seemed to like it. "Probably. Sorry for getting your hair all fucked up."

He rolled his eyes before closing them. "A bit of paint getting clumped in my hair is hardly fucking it up. Should show you the pictures from when Simone used to cut my hair. I looked like one of The Beatles one year."

"Oh my god, please!"

Jake laughed, looking up at me with those eyes. "Raincheck?"

"I'll hold you to it," I warned, returning my focus to working the paint out of his hair. As the comfortable silence pulled me into an odd sense of security, my eyes drifted once again down his bare chest.

Training with Patrick had resulted in Jake's arms growing lean with well-defined muscle. I could tell by the stiffness of his abdomen that my brother wasn't skipping other workouts in favor of his arms. "Like what you see?"

My eyes quickly looked anywhere but him, a bashful smile tugging at my lips as I turned, reaching for some shampoo. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Suuurreee," he drew out with a grin. "Feel free to stare as long as you like. I don't mind."

"Shut up," I mumbled, lathering the shampoo in my hands before massaging it into his hair.

His eyes shut, and his whole body relaxed with a lovely sound. "You're gonna put me to sleep."

"Good," I giggled. "Then I won't have to listen to you talk."

"Want to ogle my muscles in peace, do you?" He teased.

"Maybe." I looked back down at the tattoos that stained his pale skin, finally getting a chance to admire them closer. "I'm more interested in the tattoos, though."

Jake smiled wider, lifting his head slightly to look down at them. "Should have guessed. All ladies love the tattoos."

"Would you tell me about them?"

"Maybe." I gave him a look, and he instantly crumbled. "I will if you tell me about yours."

"All of mine or just the ones you know about?"

His brow rose, head tilting to the side and bonking against my sink. "There's more?"

With a smug smirk, I shrugged. "Maybe."

An amused scoff bubbled from his throat, and he asked, "Am I gonna have to guess?"

"I'll show you one if you want," I replied. "After you tell me about your tattoos."

“Ask away, princess. I’m an open book.”

My eyes took in the artwork that etched his skin, carefully considering my choices before I hummed. "What about this one?" I asked, removing one of my hands from his hair to poke the flowers on his upper arm.

Jake chuckled. "Drunk bet with an old buddy of mine. I lost."

"And the band?"

"Another impulsive decision made while half hammered."

I moved my other hand, leaning over him to touch the anchor on his other arm. "What about this one?"

His smile faded, and the light left his eyes. "I got that one for my mom. Or in spite of her, maybe… I don't…" He sighed. "She loved The Cape. Loved the ocean and ships. We had so many of the dumb things around the house. It's one of the only things I remember about it before moving in with Simone's family."

Nodding, I stoked the soft skin. "It's good to remember little things like that. Little things that made you happy once." My finger dragged down his arm, smoothing over the mermaid. "Now I get to ask you: why a mermaid?"

He shrugged, eyes still holding that far-off look. "I've kind of always liked them. Used to think it was a Cape thing. When I was a kid, Simone made up some story about my mom being a mermaid that had to return to the sea. It was… Comforting, I guess, at the time. After a while, it started getting harder and harder to remember what she looked like. Whenever I'd think of my mom Simone's face was all I could see."

I shoved down my disgust for Simone and what I knew she'd done with her position as Jake's maternal figure. "That's sad, but it makes some sense. You were young. Simone stepped up and raised you, so, of course, you'd picture her when thinking of a mom."

"Yeah," he replied. "I guess. Anyway, I got the mermaid because of that story she'd told me. She'll never admit this, but when she got back from France… After her divorce, she got a matching one."

On instinct, my nose scrunched at the nauseous feeling that came with his all-too-innocent reveal. "I'll be honest, I can't really picture Simone with a tattoo."

"She hates them," Jake answered, laughing. A look, fond, and if I'd been as naive as I used to be, something I would have thought was full of love. "But she got it for me. Something to show me that she'd never abandon me again."

Something to placate your rightful anger at her for leaving you in the first place. I bit my tongue. "What about this one?" I thumbed the words over his ribcage. "Together/Or?"

Jake's momentary joy dwindled slightly as he ground his teeth together. I was about to tell him he didn't need to share it with me, but then he spoke, "I got that one while Simone was in France with her asshole husband. Before she left, she said she and I were destined to be together, no matter how much space separated us. Together or separate. It made more sense in my head."

This time it was my turn to clench my jaw as I tried to think of something nice to say. "It looks good. It might hold some… Less pleasant memories, but as long as it brings you some kind of peace now, that's all that matters."

"Yeah," he said softly, eyes refocusing on me as I finished rinsing the shampoo from his hair and turned to grab a towel. Once I'd dried his hair a bit, examining it closely to make sure I got all the paint out, Jake smiled. "My turn."

Tossing the towel in the hamper, I held out my arms. "Ask away. I’m an open book."

Jake took a step forward, reaching out to push my hair away from my shoulder to run his fingers down my spine. "Might as well start with this one."

"The snake." I smirked up at him. "Your favorite."

"Can't decide which one's my favorite until I know about all of them."

I hummed in response before answering the question his fingers asked. "I got it after I'd been clean for a year. A symbol of, well, shedding my old life… and all the pain that came with it."

He understood, on some deep level, Jake knew exactly why something as simple as a tattoo would help purge the darkest of things clinging to the soul. His fingers moved again, sliding down my arm to the tiger. "And this one?"

"My first tattoo. I got it when I came to live with my dad. He used to say I was like a tiger. I had the rage and the claws meant for killing, but inside I was just a big cat. It was also the first time Quinn and I met Prue. We were sixteen."

"Quinn get one?" He asked.

I bit my lip to contain my laugh. "She got a peach on her ass with juicy inked in the leaf."

He laughed. "That sounds like her." The feel of his fingers sliding along my hip, tracing the intricate lines of the mermaid tail, felt too soft, too good. "I already know the story behind this one. With your mom and all."

"Yeah," I answered. "It's still pretty, though."

"It's very pretty," he reassured me, body sliding closer to mine as he bent slightly to tap my knee. "And this one. You said it was a reminder… That there are worse things than death."

I gulped, my jaw clenching and my body feeling tight as I nodded. "You remember François?"

Jake's face fell slightly, most likely remembering the hour he spent holding me as I sobbed in the stairwell. "Yeah."

"It's for him. Kind of. It's a reminder that things you love can get taken away from you if you're not careful." I cleared my throat, desperately trying to keep from crying again. "He lost the things he loved because of me, and so… When I got the chance, I got the tattoo. It helped me cope with it all, I think. At least a little."

There was a moment of silence before Jake spoke again. "It might hold some… Less pleasant memories, but as long as it brings you some kind of peace now, that's all that matters."

I laughed softly at the use of my own words against me. "Touche."

"Now, what are the others?"

"I have cherries on my ass." I held up my finger and stopped him in his tracks. "Quinn made me get them!"

He nodded, brows raised, and a poorly concealed smirk plastered on his face. "Of course she did. Does it say juicy, too, or?"

Damn it. I looked away, blushing slightly as I committed to telling him the truth. I owed him that much after his honesty with me. "It says ‘bite me’ in the stems."

"Oh, I've gotta see that!" He replied, laughing.

"Ah! I have two more!"

Leaning back slightly, he gestured for me to continue. "Let's hear it. I wanna make an informed decision."

"Well, there's one on my chest, above the heart. Canis Major. It's a constellation. My dad's favorite one. Each star represents someone I care about. Sirius, the heart of it, is my dad. Muliphein, the head, is Peter. Mirzam, the front foot, is Ozzy. Furud, the back foot, is Nana and Abdul. Wezen, the ass, is Patrick. The tail, Aldura, is Quinn and Prue. And there's this tiny cluster of stars in the chest area, by the shoulder, called M41. That's Dom and his lot."

"Do I get a star?" He asked only half teasing

I smiled wider. "You can share the ass with Patrick."

His eyes showed the joy his face didn't as he nodded along. "Last one."

"On the ribs," I said. "It's a big koi fish. A simple ode to an old friend in Japan. Now, let’s get this over with. Which one do you want to see?”

Jake considered his choices for a moment before taking a slight step forward and placing his hands on my hips. “Show me the fish.”

“The fish?”

“Yep.”

“And here I thought you’d never pass up a chance to see my ass.”

He shrugged, a gleam in his eyes highlighting the blue. “Oh, I fully intend on seeing it eventually, but I figured I should save the best for last.”

I tugged my shirt up just enough to expose the tattoo that lined my ribs. “Uh-huh, whatever you need to tell yourself, tough guy.”

His attention quickly turned to the simple linework. His hands squeezed my hips for a second before one moved, fingers sliding along the dark ink, curving with my rib in a feather-light touch that made my body tingle. I flinched with a giggle, meeting his questioning gaze with a look. “Tickles.”

“Ah,” he replied with a smirk that was all too familiar.

I lifted my finger to his face, grabbing his hand quickly. “Don’t even think about it.”

Jake scoffed playfully. “I would never.”

My eyes flickered down to his lips, admiring the soft curve of them for a moment, wanting to kiss him again, before I laughed it off, reaching off to the side to hand him his shirt. “Here. It’s probably got a few paint stains, sorry.”

He took it from me, examining it for a quick moment before shrugging as he threw it over his head. “I think it’s an improvement.”

We headed back out to my living room, standing in front of the painting that had suffered from Jake’s overactive tongue. “Not my best work.”

“I think it’s perfect.” He smiled at me. “Showcases both our talents.”

I rolled my eyes at him, moving to pick up the trays and cups of water left out. “You can have it if you want.”

Humming, he seemed to consider my offer. "So, who taught you to paint anyway?" He asked, suddenly, finally looking away from our masterpiece.

“Softly now,” Rada said, gently pulling my brush back slightly. “We want the colors to blend. It’s not a fight, Lyubov'.”

I laughed, following her instructions to help the colors meld together. “Who do you think would win in a fight, blue or red?”

Rada wiped a small dot of paint off her uniform and polished the glasses beside me, smiling at my ridiculous question. Still, she looked around and leaned in close as if it was some sort of master secret. “Purple.”

The two of us laughed louder as she pressed a kiss to my head. “Purple is a nice color.”

“It’s my favorite color,” she admitted. “But don’t tell the others.”

“I won’t,” I answered.

"A cleaning lady," I suddenly replied without fully intending to. "She was an immigrant from Russia, where she was an art teacher."

Jake smiled at my openness. "Did she teach you Russian, too?"

Nodding, I laughed to myself. "Yeah. It took a while, but she made learning it fun." I laughed more, tears starting to build in my eyes. "She used to put random Post-it notes all over the penthouse, labeling random objects. I ran around like a dog to find them all and show her I knew the right words."

"You lived in a penthouse?" He asked, and I froze. "Was that when you and your mom traveled?"

"No." Shaking my head, I stood, shakily gathering up the rest of my things and taking them to the sink where my dishes from earlier still sat. I counted my breaths in my head and flexed my fingers to keep the numbness and the memories away.

I was thankful that Jake was who he was because even though I knew he had a list of questions a mile long, he said nothing. He stood up and moved beside me, quietly helping me wash the dishes and clean out the painting supplies and stack them on my drying rack. After the task in front of us was done, he smiled, tucking my hair behind my ear with a still-damp finger, making me squirm. "Thanks for the painting lesson, princess."

"It was hardly a lesson," I replied. "I bet you can't tell me a single thing I said."

"I remember the term 'wet on wet'."

"Do you remember what it means?"

"No," he admitted with a sly grin. "But regardless of how much information stuck in this thick head of mine, I enjoyed hearing you talk about it."

I could feel the heat rising to my face as I bashfully shrugged. "Thanks for listening. It…" Pausing, I breathed out a soft sigh and smiled up at him. "It means a lot."

Jake nodded, a look of understanding filling his face with a youthful glow. "I know."

"Next time, it's your turn."

"What?" His eyes widened slightly, his brow arching, the dirty implication of my words clearly on his mind.

I rolled my eyes, smiling wider. "To teach me about photography. I believe the exact phrase you used at Nana's was, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours'?" Gesturing to the paintings that lay scattered around my living room, I continued, "I showed you mine."

With an understanding nod, he replied, "Well, it's only fair."

The longer I stared at him, standing in my apartment, looking at me like I was the real piece of art, my body longed for that dream to come to life. I wanted Jake, not just to know what sleeping with him would be like, but the fun and soft moments that could follow as well. “Do you-”

His phone cut off my train of thought, and the look in his eyes, slightly stressed, slightly relieved, told me in seconds who it was. He smiled at me, a silent apology for the interruption. “Hey, Simone. No, I’m not home yet.” There was a long pause as she spoke to him over the phone. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

Once he hung up, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Duty calls?”

“Sorry, she needs some help with something.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I… had fun tonight.”

“Me too.”

“See you at work?” I asked, tapping his foot with mine.

Jake nodded, a soft smile reassuring me that whatever Simone had called him for wasn’t going to cause him any stress. “Yeah. Goodnight, Lena.”

 I lifted myself up onto the tips of my toes and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Jake.”

*

From across the street he watched the man clad in leather and a simple t-shirt exit the apartment. The biker by the door smiled at him, shaking his hand and offering him some small conversation before he walked away down the street. He could just barely make out her shaded figure through the curtains as she moved through her atrocious apartment to turn off the light. “Should we follow him?”

Tony glanced away from the windows, following the man down the street with his eyes as he smoked his cigar. He said nothing, just gestured simply with his hand knowing the man beside him would understand his wishes.

“We should go,” Jules replied. “Before the other ones come down this street again.”

“Yes, we should. Wouldn’t want to rouse the old junkyard dog just yet.” He put the rest of his cigar out with his foot and smiled at the building. “Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

Once they’d walked a block or so away Tony unlocked his car, waiting with an annoyed look as one of his smaller paid men ran up to him, panting. “We found him, Sir.”

A cold smile spread on his lips. “Excellent.”

[saficswrites]

EoaFH the Rinnen Cut

This is a scene from chapter fifteen of Elegy of a Forgotten Heir containing the fan favorite character Rinnen. I wanted to post this separately so her many fans the world over could enjoy one of her scenes without having to go through a really long fic with a lot of content warnings just to see her.

I do worry how much sense this will make without the context provided by the overarching story so I’ve included some small elaborations and a very brief summary, also this scene does contain some spoilers for the fic due to it taking place over 60k words in.

But without further ado it is Rinnening time below the cut and I hope you enjoy!

Elegy of a Forgotten Heir is an au retelling of Radiant Dawn from the lens of Petrine barely surviving Riven Bridge and becoming an integral part of the Dawn Brigade. It also includes a pretty extensive prologue giving her an actual backstory as a bastard daughter of the Crimean royal family (Ramon and Renning/Bertram’s half sister, not Elincia’s generation) and the first orphan Volke took in.

Also she and Micaiah have a thing, a weird codependent toxic thing.

If this sounds interesting to you please be mindful of the content and trigger warnings I gave to the chapters on their tumblr posts as well as the tags on Ao3. This has been a very viscerally dark story so far, that said there are no major warnings for the scene in this post.

(Larabel’s, a brothel run by Anna in Nevassa that serves as a front for an information and spy ring. Rinnen ended up becoming one of Anna’s agents, primarily an enforcer, in the aftermath of the war and she serves as Volke and Tormod’s main contact within the ring.)

(Samina, Bryce’s mother and King Ashnard’s physician. She was the one who kept Petrine alive for two years in the aftermath of Riven Bridge, though her wounds were so severe she wasn’t able to recover past simply delaying the inevitable until Micaiah’s eventual use of Sacrifice.)

Nevassa region of Daein

648th year Begnion Central Epoch

Rinnen

Rinnen stuck out like a sore thumb in her lily-white bishop's robes. Shedding them in an alleyway, she carefully sorted through the thin chains that sat on her hip. 

"Piss off, gutter trash." A man sneered as she strolled into the bar.

Rinnen snarled at the man, briefly flashing a stiletto before pushing past him to join Volke at the counter.

"You shouldn't make such a scene, little red." He murmured, sliding his tankard down the bar her way before setting a stack of cards next to her.

"You know I'm not as good at subterfuge or defusal as you, old man." Rinnen replied, her blue eyes warming with delight upon inspecting the stack of reaper cards. She swiveled in the stool, glancing at him. He looked the same, right down to the tired eyes. "How are things going in Crimea?" 

The Fireman flicked his maroon eyes in her direction, and waited for the barkeep to pass.

"Not well, Rinnen. The nobility seems primed to revolt against the newly crowned Royal.” He explained impassively. “And Daein?" 

Rinnen pocketed the reaper cards, and slid a marked coin across the bar. Tossing her long red locks over her small shoulders, she leaned forward.

"The occupation army is committing abuses on a mass scale. I've evacuated most of your orphanages to remote regions, and ensured the safety of the remaining residents of Palmeni." She whispered. Her hand briefly brushed over his, just a whisper touch as she sipped from his tankard.

"And Sella?" He muttered. Their eyes locked in silence again, and Rinnen hesitated.

"Samina is gone. I'm sorry, Volke." Rinnen whispered.

She saw it in his jaded eyes for the briefest moment. Pain, insurmountable, and a horrific flash of grief.

"Is the village okay?" He murmured, lighting a pipe. She smelled the mint, and tobacco, and closed her icy eyes.

"Yeah. By the time I got there, grandma had already been buried. Right next to my father. After I unleashed my grief, I went looking for answers. The Begnion were all but slaughtered, Volke. The villagers talked about an injured woman who fought like 3 devils, and a saint. I couldn't get much from them... something about blades of light, and rebels." Rinnen muttered, twisting a few chains around her hand in a rare sign of nervousness. "It's likely they were the Dawn Brigade. We've been in contact with them, well Anna has. I meant to visit you sooner.... I'm sorry." 

Volke shook his head.

"Samina would be happy you didn't mix yourself up in it. How is Larabel's?" He murmured gently, his grief obviously softening his tone.

Rinnen signaled for another drink, and grinned.

"Profitable as always. You should visit Anna. I'm sure she has a contract or two for you." She chuckled.

"I'm already under a job." Volke muttered, shaking his head.

"Well, I'm about to set off on a new contract. Gotta get word to the Laguz Liberatore from another one of your kids." Rinnen grumbled as she stood up, laying her hand on the old man’s shoulder.

"Be careful, Rinnen. You're the last in a bloodline of brilliance." He murmured, seemingly amused at her willingness to give out information.

"If I see any more of your 'projects', you want me to say anything to her?" Rinnen chuckled at the brief flash of anger in those old eyes, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry old man. I told you I have no ability for defusal." 

She felt a bit sad, to leave him alone in a bar. But at the same time, they both had jobs to do.

[llycaons]

SO. I've hit 14 books this year!! I do have a goodreads but it's kind of public so it's mutuals-only (feel free to ask!). but here's my list so far

babel by r.f. kuang

kindred by octavia butler

the goblin emperor by katherine addison

horse by geraldine brooks

spinning silver by naomi novik

kitchen by banana yoshimoto

deep as the sky, red as the sea by rita chang-eppig

the buried giant by kazuo ishiguro

annihilation by jeff vandermeer

the order of the pure moon reflected on water by zen cho

the mask of mirrors by m.a. carrick

black water sister by zen cho

the witch's heart by genevieve gornichec

mexican gothic by silvio moreno-garcia

I also attempted, but gave up on

the night tiger by yangsze choo (the stepsibling romance...I couldn't)

the tiger's wife by téa obreht (just a bit slow - may return to it)

song of the huntress by lucy holland (I just hated one of the leads so much 😭 my blood pressure skyrocketed every time it was her chapter)

these violent delights by chloe gong (WOW this book is for 15 year olds and also pretty pretentious and stupid to boot)

black sun by rebecca roanhorse (it did not grab me)

the black tides of heaven by neon yang (frankly this was a bad book)

silver in the wood by emily tesh (shut UPPPPP white rich british man!!!!!)

lucha of the night forest by tehlor kay mejia (very juvenile and an embarassingly heavy-handed 'drugs are evil' moral right off the bat. also just not very well written)

my reading map as of now

borrowed

ancillary justice - scifi isn't my usual genre but I was really intrigued by the sample I'd read, and I loved the raven tower by the same author. audiobook

sistersong - I had such a bad time trying to read song of the huntress I'm wary about this one but I do still want to try it. ebook

holds - physical books

gods of jade and shadow - I don't know much about this one but I do love a more modern take on folktales and I don't know much about mexican mythology

snow crash - I'll finish this eventually lol. another scifi

pachinko - sampled this ages ago. will it be good? idk. I was absorbed

salt fish girl - REALLY looking forward to this one. it says zero copies available so perhaps I will need to buy it 😭

warbreaker - a podcaster I listen to gave a glowing review and I've been meaning to get into brando sando for ages

lolita - lower on my priority list. I'd like to listen to the audiobook but maybe that would be harder. the only available copy is in spanish anyway

holds - audiobooks

warbreaker - I'll takewhatever arrives first. the waitlist is fucking. months long

pachinko - ditto. these are both 20+ hour audiobooks so maybe a physical book would be less tiring. maybe

wuthering heights - I want to know what everyone is talking about when they rave about their toxic doomed love

the final empire (mistborn #1) - another sanderson offering

the watchmaker of filigree street - I have been on the waitlist for so long for this one...

the water outlaws - please be good please please please

giovanni's room - long waitlist for this one too!!

on my list but not in my library

when a fox is a thousand - I want to read this one so bad I feel SICK. libby PLEASEEEE

piranesi - honestly this did not captivate me but it's so short. why not

sorcerer to the crown - only the second book of this series was available, oddly enough. is the second one so freestanding? is it so much better? I'd like to read them in order. lower on my list since it was a new addition

this is like 16 books and some of them are VERY long so I doubt I'll get to this entire list by the end of the year but it's so satisfying to look back and see how much reading I've done 😊 I've done more this year than I have in like, a decade and it's been so wonderful getting back into another long-beloved form of storytelling even if I don't get as obsessed with it as I used to in hs and middle school

[mangoshorthand]

Flesh and Blood- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch8 (Hard Feelings Part 3)

SUMMARY: As Christmas approaches, everything between you and Five is perfect...until a destructive temporal anomaly gets in the way. Five is convinced another permutation of himself is to blame. Nothing's simple when you're in a relationship Five Hargreeves: could your loyalties be tested in a way unique to him? Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen

After a year of grief, Viktor told Five he needed a project. He found one.

Initially confusing chapter ahead. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter Eight: The Life that Is

Five's in the outbuilding, readying the Snowcat for tomorrow's journey. Although the handover point is only a couple of miles away, he doesn't want to take any chances. He's near enough that he could blink to your side in a second if a portal erupts. 

It's been so good to speak to Klaus and Lila again. You're looking forward to seeing Klaus tomorrow, even just from a distance. The idea of having some new stuff in the cabin is exciting too- something to relieve the burden. The idea of Sloane's care package is particularly appealing. 

You listen to the weather getting worse as your eyes grow heavy. It had been a fine day, but now you’re sure you hear thunder. At the flash of light in a snow-gray sky, you sit up, moving as fast as you can with your belly getting in the way. Staring out of the window, you struggle unsteadily to your feet.

There’s a swirling blue-toned storm in the sky. It’s a portal, but not one of the baby’s. There’s no pain and it’s at least fifty feet away behind all the trees. It swirls more sedately and less like a washing-machine on a spin cycle. And then, as suddenly as it appeared, it vanishes. Is it the Commission? Could they have found you? You back up, eyes still fixed on the window, edging towards the back door and Five in the outbuilding. But then the front door flies open and Five’s standing there in a suit and shoes entirely unsuitable for the snow: his heavy coat, hat and boots are gone. You don’t have time to wonder when and where he managed to change clothes before he blinks across the room and wraps you tightly in his arms.

What-?”

He doesn’t reply, he only inhales deeply with his mouth and nose in your hair. When he exhales, it’s in juddery bursts. And then his shoulders heave.

“Five? What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

He’s crying and breathing you in, his tears wetting you and hands trying to touch every part of you at once. He's shaking as he kisses your face and neck again and again.

“It’s really you…it’s you…I’ve got you.”

"I don’t understand, what was-"

He cuts you off with a sob, his face buried in your neck. His skin is mottled with temperature: warm from his emotion with patches of ice-cold from the snow. 

"Fuck. Oh fuck. I've got you. I love you. I love you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," his voice is muffled and more tears bleed from his eyelashes, running onto your collarbone.

You just hold him, confused but knowing that he needs you. You rub his back automatically and he holds you even tighter to him in response.

And then the back door bangs open and Five stands there too.

He’s the only kid crazy enough to be out here. It’s only 30 degrees or so but he whined until Diego had to give in. He could never hold out for long when Santi did that. He looked exactly like Lila.

Coat zipped high around his neck, Diego watches Santi’s breath fog out before him as he throws himself down the slide with a long whoop.

Watching from behind the waist-high fence surrounding the playground, he stamps his feet to keep warm. His boots crunch dried leaves into the hard ground.

At least this means Santi is likely to sleep tonight, Diego comforts himself. Maybe even give him and Lila a chance to fool around for once.

Santi’s cry is abruptly cut off and Diego looks up, suddenly alert. If he expects anything In the split-second it takes for him to absorb the scene, he maybe thinks Santi’s taken a fall and winded himself, but that’s not what’s happening here.

He’s just shot down the slide and should be landing on his feet, but he hasn’t. Instead, he’s suspended in midair. So is his fogged up breath, trailing behind him like an old steam train. 

Diego stares for a fraction of a second before vaulting the fence and heading towards his son. He freezes himself, however, when a voice sounds behind him.

“Hi Diego.”

Hand on a knife at his belt, Diego whirls around. Standing by a nearby tree, Herb waves awkwardly. 

“Santi’s okay. I just froze time for a couple of minutes.”

Diego looks at him disbelievingly for a second. He looks disheveled and distinctly careworn. Exhausted, even.

“What the hell are you doing here Herb,” Diego said, withdrawing the knife from its holster and pointing it warningly in Herb’s direction, “after what you did? You send a killer into my house, near my son?”

“I-I need your help!”  Herb says, frantically, hands held up each side of his face in surrender, “Come on Diego, there are at least two killers around your son most days and one of them is his Mother- what harm does one more do?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Diego growls, “you put him in danger.”

Herb blinks

“ I didn’t put him in danger. If Wynn had been able to carry out her contract that night, Santi would never have been hurt like that.”

Diego lets out a slow breath and chews the inside of his cheek.

“Please, Diego.”

 He lowers the knife. 

“You better tell me what you’re doing here Herb.”

Herb nods eagerly, 

“We got a real problem back at HQ. It’s your brother: he changed the timeline. It’s a catastrophe just waiting to happen.”

“Elaborate,” Deigo says, sternly.

“After Wynn failed, I ran the numbers again and they showed that matters were going to resolve themselves anyway: your brother killed his fiance and the baby trying to induce birth.”

Diego feels all the blood drain from his face. His old stutter returns.

“W-w-what?” he manages.

“And that was fine, ” Herb hurries on, “I mean, it was sad; it was really sad, but there weren’t going to be any more portals. But then Five- he must have been working on it all that time- Five traveled back eight years and wiped out that timeline. That means there are two of them somewhere in this timeline and the pregnancy can continue.”

Herb takes a deep breath, pulling in air to carry on with his frantic explanation:

“You have to tell me where they are. We have to stop this. Those portals are going to get worse and worse: destruction on a scale you can’t even imagine!”

Diego’s brain is struggling to take it all in.

“They’re far away from people,” he says, slowly, “and Five can stop them, anyway.”

“Not as the pregnancy progresses!” Herb says, wildly, “by the eighth month we predict they could swallow everything within a fifty-mile radius; even break the fabric of time itself! And that’s not to mention the paradox of two Fives running around.”

Diego shakes his head.

“Please!” Herb says, stepping towards him, “I need you to tell me what you know.”

Diego looks over at Santi again for a short second before turning back to Herb.

“Okay. I'll help. But you need to tell me that all again. Slowly this time.”

You wriggle free of the man holding you, looking between him and the Five standing at the door with fearful disbelief. As you take him in, you realize he looks different. Older. His skin, though still young, looks a little worn and he has a single gray hair at his right temple.

“What-?”

But the older Five just hugs you again.

“Okay, that’s enough,” the younger Five pulls him roughly off you, bringing a shoulder up to his face to scratch an itch there. The older Five breaks free of his grasp.

“Listen asshat, I haven’t seen her in eight years because YOU are about to kill her...tomorrow, if I got my math right. So excuse me for showing a bit of emotion.”

He scratches vigorously under his armpit and gives himself an intense glare.

“What?” your Five sounds dangerous, impatient.

“Yeah- that’s right. You kill her and the baby trying to play OB-GYN.” he keeps tight hold of your hand, “and I spent the last eight years working out how to fix your…my fuckup.”

He looks around the cabin disbelievingly for a second and lets out a peal of relieved laughter.

“I actually pulled it off. I can't believe it. Would you say I look about eight years older?”

But you don't answer: you're still computing what you heard a few seconds prior.

"We die?" you whisper. 

The older Five looks at you, all the mirth leaving his eyes like sand through an hourglass.

"Not if I have anything to do with it. Not this time."

You can read the intensity of emotion in his voice. His face has the haunted quality you associate with his regular nightmares. He tears his eyes from yours and addresses his younger self.

“We are not equipped to induce birth and deliver a preterm baby here. But, lucky for your sorry ass,” he shoots a dark look in his direction, “I got a plan.” He uses his shoe to scratch his shin.

“And why should I trust you?” says the younger Five.

“He’s you!” you say, incredulously.

“That's not good enough!" His eyes narrow even further as his tense shoulder scratches his cheek. Older Five's face spasms as he points aggressively into his doppelganger’s face.

“Well, I know how to keep the baby inside her until she’s fully cooked.”

“She?” you whisper.

Older Five looks away from his younger self to look back over at you, lip twitching.

Yes," he says, more softly, "she was beautiful." He lifts your hand gently and looks down at your fingers laced between his.

Younger Five clicks his fingers impatiently in the other’s direction, causing his brow to knit again.

“Let go of her and tell me how we keep the baby inside.”

You remove your hand from older Five’s and step a little way between them. He lets you go with regret but keeps his eyes on his younger self.

“It needs both of us.”

They stand with identical posture, hands in pockets and bodies tilted forward, jaws set. Through gritted teeth, the younger Five says,

“Bullshit. What’s your game, shithead?

"I'm trying to save her life, moron!"

"You've created a paradox," he says, emphatically, wiping sweat from his brow, "you know what that can do! You wanna trigger another kugelblitz?"

"I've had eight years! You think I didn't take that into account?"

The younger Five grinds his teeth as he steps forward aggressively. 

"And we had forty-five to work out the jump to 2019 and we still managed to fuck that up!"

As Older Five looks murderous, you hold out a hand as it dawns on you:

“Is this that…paradox psychosis thing?”

“No,” they say, simultaneously, eyeing each other with suspicion.

“And what was the first stage again?”

“Denial.” they say, together, and then scowl at one another.

 “He definitely has it," says older Five, "but I’m fine!”

“You’re the one scratching himself like a chimp,” says the younger.

Older Five grunts in frustration, removing the fingernails chafing his hair.

“How about you hear me out and then decide if it sounds like bullshit?”

Your Five shifts uncomfortably and lets out a wet-sounding fart.

“Sorry. Go on.”

“Thank you,” says Five 2.0, “Now. We know that baby’s brain is firing all kinds of crazy stuff out as it develops, right? Hence the portals.”

“Right.”

Older Five turns to you, straightening his tie uncomfortably, “She’s projecting nonsense portals outside the womb because your body isn’t equipped to compensate. That’s why Lila didn’t end up with loads of placentas or whatever would have happened with Santi: because she’s powered, her body can cope.”

Younger Five scratches behind his ear, “We’d got that far, genius.”

“-And,” he continues, “if we can recreate that compensation using OUR power in a form we can place inside her, then the baby can throw out whatever she wants and be born when she’s ready.”

“I’m listening…so do we need to anticipate the convection or wave nodes before they happen?”

“No,” he scratches his leg, “we need to produce two portals with nice, steady vortices. Any frequency as long as they’re totally oppositional. Then we externalize them, confine them to this instance and compress them into one. Think of it like a sphere to go around the baby. And because they’re constantly opposing each other-”

“-It creates stasis within,” younger Five finishes for him, comprehension dawning, “Like a time-travel-proof forcefield? That’s actually a pretty good…”

“-it’s not a forcefield,"  he snaps, "this isn’t Star Trek, asshole. It’s a relativity suppressor.”

“I don’t understand.” you say.

Older Five turns to you, face softening even as he smacks his lips a little, trying to lubricate his dry mouth.

“It makes sure that time IN the womb matches time OUTSIDE the womb, no matter what she throws out. It will counteract her portals before they erupt. It should keep her in there until she’s ready to be born or until her brain is developed enough to stop spitting them out. Does that make sense?”

You nod. It makes enough sense, anyway. He smiles in return and reaches for your hand again.

“Hey! You just keep away from her.”

He scowls, reaches into his inner pocket, pulls out a notebook and throws it none-too-gently at his past self, who catches it just before it hits him in the chest.

“Here’s the math, dipshit.”

Your Five looks down at the equations, stripping off his coat.

“This is going to need maintenance,” he says, slowly, “it looks like it will degrade.”

“Yup. That’s the worst part. We gotta be roommates for the next ten weeks. Until she delivers. Just to be safe."

Five nods slowly and then says, “How do I know you’re not going to wait until she delivers and then off me?”

“You don’t, " he replies, "but you’re going to take that risk, aren’t you?”

They stare each other down, both shifting, scratching and breathing a little too hard. Finally, the younger Five gives a miniscule nod and says:

“Want to try it?”

“No, I came all the way here to talk about it. Why do you think I'm here?" snaps the older Five.

“I didn’t mean you.”

He turns his eyes to you.

“Your decision, dear one. It seems…logical to me, but this isn’t about me and him.”

You look at the older Five,

“Will it hurt?”

His mouth pulls down a little as he wipes psychosis-related sweat from his forehead.

"I don't know. I don’t see any reason why it should but I’ve not been able to test that part. All I've been able to do is practice shaping one half. Lila can only mimic- she can’t create them independently. No chance of an oppositional portal from her.”

You think for a few moments. If it’s this, death or more skin-ripping portals then this seems by far the better option.  

“Okay.”

Older Five squeezes your hand.

“If you just sit there on the couch, we’ll try to create one and then see about insertion.”

“This is still just theoretical,” says the younger Five, looking at himself with a mixture of scorn and anxiety.

“Then let’s get some practical experience,” he replies, with passive aggressive bite. 

They scowl at each other again as he continues.

“You create one, make it simple and steady and I’ll counteract it.”

You watch as both Fives take their braced stance, hands clawed and ready to summon. With a look of concentration, a flash of light erupts from Five’s hand, and a tiny portal appears before him. It’s not like the baby’s mad, sucking voids, it’s more sedate. There’s no sucking sensation coming from it, though it makes your stomach flip.

“Okay! Now hold it!”

Younger Five’s face tenses as Five 2.0 summons a portal too, identical to the other, to your eyes at least.

“Now push. It needs to be round and fit together, so it holds itself in shape.”

Both versions of him push their arms outwards with effort, pushing the portals towards each other. You can see veins standing out on their arms.

“Smooth it- we want total amalgamation!”

Hands still splayed and tense, they both manipulate their portals: the energy appears to you like the texture of chilled butter: reluctant to mold without the persuasion of many warm touches. The older Five, clearly more practiced at this, smooths his into shape, like one half of a yin-yang sphere. Younger Five, using his movement for reference, eventually works his own into the reciprocal shape.

Breathing hard with the effort, older Five makes eye contact with his younger self. “Good. Now we need to push. There’s going to be resistance but it should fuse.”

They exchange a nod and, grunting with effort, extend shaking arms.

“Keep it steady!”

They work against the portals’ natural urge to repel each other, like the same pole on a magnet. One vortex or the other tries to become wilder, but each Five forces his half back to sedation each time it happens. Flashes of lightning-like energy fizzle between them. As both Fives start to sweat even more than before, the halves finally join, the final inch between them closing abruptly with a flash and buzz of static electricity. The orb contracts, expands and finally settles into smooth stasis at around two feet in diameter. The noise ceases and it revolves gently, like a planet.

Your Five looks to the other for confirmation, still tensed and ready to manipulate the orb as required.

“That looks good, now we gotta get it in.”

“How?” pants the younger Five.

“It should pass through her if we place it there.”

“You’ve had eight years and you give me ‘should’?”

"Sorry, I didn't exactly have a way to PRACTICE," spits older Five. And then he looks at you, nervousness replacing anger: “Do you want to try?”

You meet his eyes. They’re the same green you know, but something in them tells you how much extra suffering he’s faced.

“If I’m going to die anyway, then this is probably my best chance.”

“Are you sure? You trusted me once and…” he can’t finish.

“I’ll trust you every time.”

He shuts his eyes, looking pained, and takes in a deep breath.

“Then let's try.”

The younger Five looks between you, nods and decides to cooperate. They direct the orb towards you. As it meets your protruding belly, you find you aren’t scared.

“You okay?” says young Five.

You nod. At this final confirmation, they both push. You tense, ready for pain.

But, as it enters you, the orb only feels a little cold: pleasantly so. Despite their intense expressions, it glides into you with what feels like ease. Once it’s disappeared into your skin, it’s almost like it clicks into place.

The older Five kneels in front of you, “Feel ok?”

“Yeah..." you shift experimentally, a little disbelieving, "I can’t even feel it.”

You stand up and take a few steps around the room, half expecting the orb to be left behind where your womb once was, but when you turn around, there's nothing on the couch.

“I think we did it,” says the older Five, “but it will need us to maintain it. I think once a day, just to be safe.”

He lifts your shirt and the younger Five’s arm darts to stop him, but you bat him away with a palm.

Ignoring his younger self's objections, he runs his hands over your skin, “That feels good. You feel it."

He steps back and nods, scratching his neck hard as he does so.

Your Five steps forward, frowning, and holds your stomach too.

“Yeah…it feels…intact.”

All three of you spend a few moments taking in the success, both Fives scratching periodically. The baby kicks contentedly and you stroke a hand over the area. She's kicking you. You're having a girl.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

[oboetemasuka]

Order of Attack (part 6)

Mm, this dialogue chapter is still so big that I had to split it again. Sorry, Amane will show up later. But don't worry, I won't keep you waiting too long with the next part. It'll fall neatly into my queue slots. Give it ~8 hours. Then I'll post both parts on AO3 around the same time when I get around to it.

Besides, the next part is going to be much more intense (and include a new trigger warning), so it's probably better to split to avoid tonal whiplash.

(I hope I handled Mikoto and John correctly... Sorry if I messed something up. It's a balancing act.)

-

"Hey, Fuuta, Shidou-san," Mikoto said as he opened the door.

"Kayano-kun, thank you for stopping by," Shidou responded wearily.

"Fuuta, how have you-"

"Why are… you here?" Fuuta asked as snappily as he could manage.

"I just wanted to check on you. I don't really remember anything about the attacks, but I felt bad-"

"Don't."

"I'm sorry?"

"If you're just…" Fuuta took a shallow breath. "Leave!"

Mikoto looked as if Fuuta had just punched him. Then his expression morphed into a level of aggression Fuuta had never seen before. Mikoto jerked forward, and Fuuta's eyes widened in terror. But it only turned out to be a feint.

"Kayano-kun!" Shidou shouted.

Mikoto glared at Shidou before stomping his way out of the cell and muttering, "Damn brat." The door slammed behind him.

Shidou turned to Fuuta. "I told you to stop lashing out at everyone who visits."

"H… how was I s…" It was the obvious question.

"I specifically warned you that Kayano-kun has been very stressed out and not to exacerbate it."

"You didn't say…"

"That he would lash out in response? Kajiyama-kun, it's basic decency not to say harsh things, even if he wasn't going to react that way."

-

"Fuuta-kun…" Mahiru said as Fuuta opened his eyes.

Would you lot stop hovering over me while I'm sleeping?

Mahiru didn't seem to notice Fuuta's glare—or maybe he just wasn't able to be intimidating enough. Her hands remained on her shoulders, like they had been for the whole interim. She realizes nothing is keeping her arms in place anymore, right?

"How much does it hurt?" she asked, still uncomfortably close to his face. Rub salt in the wound, won't you?

"Back off," he managed to say. Mahiru sat straight up, putting space between them.

"Sorry. I… I've been worried about you."

You and everyone else. "So what?"

"I just wanted to know if there's anything I can do to make you feel better."

You? Make me feel better? If it wasn't for you, someone might have saved me sooner! Yuno might have heard the attack right away. Or Shidou wouldn't have sent Kazui out to protect you. Then I wouldn't have been so broken!

Whatever expression was on his face as he tried to get his words out must have caused Mahiru to tense up. Eventually, three words made it out.

"It's… your… fault…"

Mahiru looked very hurt, but not surprised. Her eyes started to quiver, like she was trying too hard not to blink.

"You're… the cause… of all my problems!" Fuuta continued.

"You think I don't know that?" she responded quietly, tears streaming down her face.

"…doesn't… seem like…"

"You think it doesn't keep me up at night? Wondering what it would have been like if things were different? If I was the one alone, if Kotoko-chan had attacked me first, if you and Amane-chan didn't have to go through all of this because I wanted a little comfort? If…"

Mahiru's ramblings soon became engulfed in her sobs. But things are like this, Fuuta thought. I wouldn't wish this pain on you, but that doesn't mean you can waltz in here and try to make me feel better. As if you know me.

"You're… making this… about yourself…" he said.

"I-I didn't mean…"

"…can't stand it… looking at you…"

Mahiru let go of her own shoulders to bury her face in her hands. Shidou walked up to her and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, got up, and walked out of the cell. Shidou sat down in her place.

"Kajiyama-kun, what did you say this time?"

"What's… it… to you?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that your injuries are no excuse for you to treat everyone else like dirt?"

"Then maybe… they should just… leave me alone."

"I need their eyes from time to time. I can't monitor you constantly and in isolation."

Fuuta huffed. "Then tell them to… stop saying s…"

"At this rate, they'll figure it out on their own."