#me and the boys when instead of just communicating our problems we instead get trapped in the abandoned sects of the ocatrian domes and

[arolesbianism]

Update: the squids (and octopus) are now in a slowburn polycule 👍

[lemotmo]

Oh this was a cruel question, but very clever answer and I actually think this woybe my order as well 😬

Q. Okay, you have to answer, no chickening out! List the main cast in order from favorite to least favorite. And then tell us why. It's HARD and I struggled big time with it!!

A. Yikes, anon. This is a mean question. For the sake of my sanity I'm going to go with just the original main cast. And I'm going to cheat, slightly, lol. I'm going to rate them as a pair so my order would be:

1. Buck and Eddie

2. Hen and Chimney

3. Bobby and Athena

I have been a Buck girlie since season one. My sunshine boy deserves the world. Eddie baby trapped me and Buck when he waltzed in in season 2 with the cutest kid the world has ever seen. He brought with him a brooding persona who thinks he has to stay strong and take care of everyone else but desperately wants someone to take care of him. My man wants and deserves to be romanced. And I need to see Buck romance him. They share a singular braincell. Can communicate without words. And, if the show is smart, the greatest television slow burn ever. They are the Buckley Diaz family and they deserve their happily ever after. ADORE 💗

Hen and Chimney are the ultimate ride or die besties who are both too smart for their own damn good but occasionally share a singular brain cell and it's a joy to watch. Watching Chimney grow from the insecure unhappy man he was in season 1 to the badass husband and father he is today has been amazing. Everyone should have a Hen in their lives. The world would be a much better place if we all had her wisdom and judgement in our lives.

Bobby and Athena are the perfect fire fam parents. Bobby basically being Buck's dad is everything. Athena being a one woman badass parade is awesome. My only nugget of complaint is that the show leans very heavily into the misery with the two of them. Especially with Bobby. Responsible for the death of his wife and kids, along with many others. Alcoholic. Abusive, miserable childhood, and suicidal. It's a lot. It's why hos friendship with Michael was so good, he was allowed to be goofy. The Athena thing I get. She's Angela Bassett, they want to show that off, and they should. The problem is that certain writers, ahem Kristen, write her way over the top and some of her scenes can kind of get ridiculous as a result. I love them. I just wish the show would understand that they don't need to constantly be buried in misery.

There you have it anon. That's my list and why. I have zero doubt that it pisses off someone and I'm sure they will let me know about it, lol.

Thank you Nonny! :)

That is so difficult, but I mostly agree with Ali here about the order. Although I would put Eddie on top for sure. He is my first and biggest love. It took me a while to warm up to Buck in season 1, but I finally did and haven't looked back since. ;)

What a great question that was.

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[star-anise]

I'm up around 3am, thinking about incels and tradwives. (Note: If these are movements you're a fan of, or if you just want to fight with me generally, I will block you if you annoy me, and even if you behave there's a $20 fee if you expect me to actually reply to you in any way.)

This got started because of Khadija Mbowe's and F.D Signifier's videos about Black patriarchy, which has led me to pick up bell hooks' 2004 book The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love.

The thing that hooks says that really knocked my socks off in a "how dare you notice that" way is that a lot of people, men and women alike, are angry not just because of the male violence they've experienced, but because of the lack of male love they've experienced.

Which like, part of being human means that being seen and cared about is pretty viscerally equated with survival in our brains. We want it, we need it, we suffer when it isn't there. To be seen and genuinely loved by the people in our lives matters, so we are always affected when there's someone important to us who doesn't seem to see us, to love us, to care about our wellbeing, or to be proud of our accomplishments. It matters to be disregarded, rejected, or shamed by someone we want to love us.

But no power in the world can compel another person to give a shit about you—a truth most of us spend our lives frantically suppressing because being unloved is terrifying, so we work at being better, more attractive, smarter, more accomplished, more charming, sexier, or to be brutally honest, more lovable. But when we do experience a lack of love, a lot of us take that anger and decide to opt for second best. If we can't be loved, we can at least be powerful. Power can take a lot of forms, but because the lack of male love often goes hand-in-hand with violence, people who face it generally want, at the very least, to not be hurt anymore.

But there's another element in play. Patriarchal gender roles divide behaviours and skills in a very particular way: Boys and men are expected to use power to dominate, and girls and women are supposed to use emotions to tend and nurture. Anyone who fails to perform those roles gets harshly punished. Terrence Real talks about how this leaves men with very limited knowledge of their own emotional needs or how to communicate them to other people, and Paul Kivel talks about how boys are taught that this is women's work—that if they are masculine enough, they will attract a woman who will make sure that they feel loved and cared about. How a great deal of men's anger towards women is the feeling that women are witholding this essential service, or failing to fully handle men's emotions (which is pretty damn common, since humans aren't telepaths so it's basically impossible to reach inside someone's head and change their emotions for them).

So hooks notes that women are just as likely to uphold patriarchal gender roles as men, and one element of that is women's anger when men are emotionally vulnerable. Men who confess to their partners that they feel lost and ashamed and unworthy of love are doing exactly what women keep saying we want men to do, but the reaction many women have is a kind of incredulous frustration—"You want me to handle all this? Fuck no, I'm busy!"

Part of that reaction is that in patriarchal gender roles, it is a woman's literal job to completely soothe and manage her male partner's emotions—to diligently praise him, make him feel more accomplished, and to reassure him of her ongoing love and admiration in all things. And that is a lot of work that is quite likely not to succeed because it's really hard to talk someone out of a self-hating funk. (There's also an element of just plain sexism. Even without the implied demand for help, some women just think men's vulnerability is pathetic or laughable.)

The feminist response to this that hooks, Real, and Kivel advocate for is to spread the load a little more evenly; to work to reduce the violence with which gender roles are policed, to allow men to be soft and emotional, but in the process, give them the emotional skills to handle the shame and dread we all feel sometimes about not being lovable or or worthy, and empower them to form many different emotionally fulfilling relationships.

So the thing about incels is, they tend to be obsessed with finding a woman who will make them feel worthy, sexy, accomplished, admirable, and dominant, like a "real man". The prospect of getting a woman is the single potential oasis of love and support in an incredibly bleak desert landscape in which a romantic partnership is the only possible source men are permitted to seek love and care from. A man who hasn't gotten a girl is a pathetic loser whose life is meaningless.

What that entire worldview takes for granted is how the desert became a desert in the first place. How boys learn to fear the violence and rejection that comes from stepping out of their gender role by being emotionally vulnerable or by emotionally nurturing somebody else; how emotional knowledge and expression are punished by a system that says men should always seek to dominate. The desire for a female partner rests on a bedrock of learned fear and contempt for the idea that men can or even should have the kind of emotionally close and supportive friendships among themselves that women tend to have with each other.

Incels are the fucking allegory of the long spoons in action. They gather in huge numbers to discuss their pain, frustration, and disappointment about their difficulty attaining a relationship that provides emotional fulfillment, but it's impossible for them to try to seek or offer that kind of relationship with the many many people right there also looking for love, because violating the gender rules means inviting violence and ostracism. Affection and mutual esteem between men is super gay and doesn't count, especially when it's provided because of a mutual vulnerability instead of admiration for achievement. So it's incredibly hard for incels to in any way break out of the mental cage that says the way to be loved is to be as masculine, as stoic and unemotional and successful and admirable and dominant as possible. And because being dominant tends to require people to be better than, incels spend a lot of time criticizing each other for failing to be masculine enough, and therefore not worthy of love.

Meanwhile... tradwives.

If you're into men, the dream of being truly loved by a man who will take care of you and make your life materially better is fucking amazing stuff. That's just... that's just The Dream, okay? The romance industry's extreme popularity decade after decade will tell you what bell hooks also notes: Women who are into men want to be loved by men SO MUCH.

So it really seems to me that the basic appeal of being a tradwife is managing to be submissive enough to get the men they love to genuinely show up and fully commit to loving them. If conflict in relationships happen because men feel threatened in their masculinity or not fully loved by their wives, then gosh darnit, these women will plaster themselves over the cracks to make sure there are absolutely no problems. That will earn them a relationship where they are truly loved and appreciated.

(It's a trap. I hate to say it, but we're not a telepathic species, and you will never manage to be good enough to actually change what someone else feels. No matter how hard you submit, your husband will still feel moments of doubt and fear and inadequacy, because he's human and we're built like that. It's the cross we have to bear as a species. And it does not go well at all if both of you are used, in those moments, for blaming you for whatever you "did" to "make" him feel that way.)

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Star-Crossed

Summary: Virgil has known since he was little that some day he's supposed to meet his soulmate and fall in love with them.  You're supposed to date, then fall in love, and eventually ride off into the sunset to the sound of wedding bells and a happy life in front of you.  You're supposed to look forward to meeting your soulmate.  You're supposed to plan your life around them, because you're supposed to want to.

He's not sure what exactly you're supposed to do when someone else gets there first.

There’s a way these things work, Virgil knows.  Of course, everyone’s story is different, because people aren’t made with perfect cookie cutters.  But there’s a general way that these things work.  It involves meeting your soulmate, getting to know them, dating and falling in love, ending with a wedding at an appropriate age.  You’re supposed to be tailor made for each other, your love story written in the stars, to the point where communication is easy and problems aren’t hard to overcome.  Now, that’s of course not how it always works in real life, because people are complicated and problems can be just that.  But it’s supposed to be relatively easy to ride the wave to your happy ending, wedding bells and cheers and riding off into the sunset.

For most of his life, Virgil had craved that ease.  Relationships that didn’t come pre-packaged for success were hard, and he wasn’t very good at them.  It took him until eleventh grade to make any friends.  But even when he did, they were proof that soulmates made everything easier.

Roman, Patton, and Logan had the kind of soulmate story people dream about.  The three of them had been best friends since childhood and started dating in their early teens.  They’d had their general share of problems throughout the years, but overall they were good.  Their story made them popular too, and Virgil couldn’t imagine why they’d taken him under their wing, but here he was.

With popularity-by-association came pressure, though, and Virgil couldn’t name the number of times he’d panicked about what would happen if he didn’t live up to the soulmate story of his friends.  It was what they expected of him, in the way that they never said outright, but Virgil could tell they were thinking it.  He knew for a fact it’s what his parents expected of him, as unlike his friends, they had said it outright.  He wondered why exactly they felt the need to make that clear.  Did they know something?

Because in the end, that was the point, wasn’t it.  Nowhere in the general “way these things work”  did your soulmate story allow you to be here, in your crumbling backyard treehouse, wrapped in the arms of someone you love but shouldn’t as they kissed your damn brains out.

Virgil couldn’t give an exact name for what he and Janus were.  They weren’t quite dating, but they definitely weren’t just friends, if the way Janus’ hand was tangled up in his hair and pulling him closer had anything to say about it.  He did know that Janus made him feel alive, in a way he’d never quite gotten from anywhere else.  He wouldn’t trade Patton, Logan, and Roman for anything, but there were times the expectations they came with made him terrified.  His parents made him feel more trapped than anything else, though he didn’t think that’s what they intended.  But here, with Janus, he felt like the world could burn, and as long as he had Janus there with him, he would be perfectly content to just watch.

Virgil shifted enough to see the outside of the treehouse, and pulled his head up slightly.  “Janus,” he murmured.

“What, I’m busy,” Janus murmured back, shifting his lips on Virgil’s neck.  Virgil gasped and pulled in a breath.

“Janus,” he said again, though his voice sounded significantly higher than a second ago.  “The sun’s rising.”

“Oh, my, alert the media,” Janus said, moving up from his neck to capture Virgil’s lips again.

Virgil pulled back.  “You can’t keep kissing me to shut me up,” he said.

“But it works so well,” Janus crowed, leaning back in.

“Janus,” Virgil groaned, but wrapped his arms around him anyway, letting them both move back slowly onto the floor.

“You have to go, you know,” he murmured in a moment he pulled back to breathe.

“Mmm, I can’t convince you to stay just another half hour?”  He kissed the corner of Virgil’s mouth and Virgil held back a whine.

“You are very persuasive,” he muttered.

“Ah, one of the many reasons you love me,” Janus said, moving to the other corner of his mouth.

“I’ll love you less if we get caught out here,” Virgil said.  “You know how early my dad gets up.”

“Really?  Getting caught during one makeout session, that’s all it takes?”  He pulled Virgil up closer to him, wrapping his arms around his back.

“Janus,” Virgil said, pushing him backwards.  “It’s not about that and you know it.”

Janus sighed, dropping his head onto Virgil’s chest.  “You ruined it with seriousness, Virgil,” he whined.

“It’s going to be ruined with a lot more seriousness if you don’t go,” Virgil said, trying to ignore the way that Janus’ lips still looked so very tempting.

Janus had to have noticed his staring, because he smirked and leaned back in.  “Yes, and it seems like you want me to leave so much,” he whispered, right before connecting their lips yet again.

Virgil heard the soft click of a lightswitch, easy to hear with nothing else going on— well, with only one other thing going on.

Virgil pushed Janus back more firmly.  “Janus,” he said.  He looked over towards the house, where the kitchen light had just come on.

Janus sighed, and laid back down on top of Virgil.  “Curse your early bird of a father.”

“Yeah, he’s the worst,” Virgil said, only half joking.  “I’ll see you on Monday, alright?”

“How ever will I last,” Janus said with a smirk, leaning in one last time and kissing Virgil much more gently, the way he did goodbyes.

Virgil returned the kiss as Janus sat them both up, and pulled back a second later.  “Text me when you get home,” he said.

“I will,” Janus agreed, moving to climb down the treehouse ladder.  Virgil watched him go for a second before leaving himself, climbing across the tree branch that led through his open window.  He made it just in time to look out his window and spot Janus leaving through the gate towards his front yard.  He paused and looked up at Virgil first, giving him a sloppy salute as if saying “There, I did what you wanted.”  Then he turned and vanished into the early morning.

Virgil smiled to himself and sank down against his windowsill.  God, he loved that idiot.

He waited until he got a text half an hour later that Janus made it home before climbing into bed.  It would still be a while before he fell asleep, though, the buzzing feeling Janus left him with made him feel too alive for that.

Not for the first time, Virgil wished that the “way these things work” was something different.

…

“I’m just saying,” Roman said, his arm looped through Logan’s as the three of them walked to class.  “That if you’re going to give students an assignment over break you deserve nothing less than death.”

“Agreed,” Virgil said.

Logan shook his head at them both in disbelief.  “We are students,” he said.  “Our entire job is to learn.  If the teachers have assignments to grade over break, shouldn’t students have something to work on too?”

“No,” Roman said.  “It’s the teachers job to grade assignments.”

“Did you miss the part where I said learning is our job?”

“I don’t see myself getting paid for this shit,” Virgil muttered.  “And I don’t want to write a whole damn essay over break.  I don’t care if ‘learning is my job’ or whatever you think.  The whole point of a break is a vacation.”

“It’s just one essay,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow.  “You can get it done and still have a vacation.”

“Logan, your ‘I can write essays in an hour’ thing is kicking in again,” Roman said.  “It takes most people longer to write an essay than it takes you.”

Virgil didn’t catch Logan’s response, having instead caught Janus’ eyes on the side of the hallway.  Janus looked at him as he passed and smirked, giving Virgil just enough time to think about how absolutely gone he was for this boy before he passed behind them.

“Virgil?”

Virgil jerked around to face Roman.  “What?”

“Don’t you agree?”

Virgil blinked.  “Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

“See!” Roman exclaimed, spinning to Logan like that won the whole argument.  Virgil was happy to help.

They both continued the argument that Virgil had lost all interest in until they reached the lunchroom, where Patton was already sitting at their usual table.

Virgil pulled his phone out as he sat down, because if he’d passed Janus… yep.

 Janus: So how are the universe’s favorite love birds doing

 Virgil rolled his eyes.

 Virgil: You don’t always have to act like you hate them you know

Janus: Excuse you?  They are the worst.  I despise them and everything they stand for

Virgil: They also happen to be the only people who actually tried being my friends

Janus: Ugh

Janus: You and your hatred of loneliness

Virgil: If you want to talk to them they wouldn’t hate it you know

Janus: And surround myself with soulmate perfection stories all the time?  Please

 Virgil sighed.  They both knew he could see right through Janus.  While Virgil now had three close friends and gained the friendliness of everyone else by association, he remembered the things that you said when you didn’t have anyone and were trying to convince yourself you were okay with that.  “As if I want to surround myself with soulmate perfection all the time” was up near the top of the list.  Virgil had said it more than a couple times himself before he realized the soulmate perfection people were actually pretty nice.

“Hey, Virgil, whatcha looking at?”

…About most things.

“Nothing,” Virgil said, putting his phone back in his bag.  “Just making notes of assignment stuff.  Roman’s right, an essay assignment over break is BS.”

“Right?” Roman said, and started launching into his complaints.  Virgil sat back in relief and listened to him start to rant, rubbing his thumb over his phone case in his pocket.

He had other reasons to hate the essay assignment.  He and Janus had been planning what to do over spring break for months.  Janus had gotten his mother’s permission to take the car and go with a friend on a couple of day trips, so long as they didn’t like, leave the state or something.  Virgil had been looking forward to going somewhere fun with Janus, exploring the places Janus had picked out, finding places to be alone… maybe pretending to be soulmates.

Virgil looked down at the name on his wrist and sighed, wishing once again that it said something other than Ethan Baker.

Virgil went through the rest of the day trying to figure out a way to finish that essay before break.  He had a week, but he had other assignments due before break.  He could probably ask Logan for help, come to think of it.  He texted Logan after school as he was heading out to Roman’s car.  Logan stayed after most days to tutor.

 Virgil: Hey, could I maybe stay after Thursday to work on my essay with you

Logan: Sure, I don’t have any tutoring on Thursday.  Try and have an outline and an argument decided on by then, okay?

Virgil: Will do

 Virgil slipped his phone back into his pocket and glanced up as he approached Roman and Patton, who were standing outside Roman’s car waiting for him.

“Sorry,” he said as he ended up in front of them.  “Trying to figure out how to get an actual break.”

“Do you have a plan?” Roman asked, getting into the driver’s seat as Patton took the passenger and Virgil got into the back.

“Yeah, I’m meeting up with Logan on Thursday to write the essay.”

“Oh, can I join?”

“You should ask, but I’m sure he won’t mind,” Patton said.  “I need a treat.  Anyone else want ice cream?”

“Sign me up,” Roman said as he started to back up.  “Jenny’s?”

“Absolutely,” Virgil agreed.  Jenny’s was their favorite ice cream place.  He wanted to find a way to take Janus some day.

Patton texted Logan to meet them there when he was done with tutoring, and then they all headed there.

Virgil grabbed his notebook once they got there and started writing down ideas for his essay in between bites of ice cream.  By the time Logan got there, he had a couple ideas to narrow down, and he pulled out his phone to text Janus.

 Virgil: You don’t have any assignments over break, do you?

Janus: Fuck no.  What monsters do you have as teachers?

Virgil: Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it handled.  Just making sure you’re ready for our trips too

…

Turns out, Janus had quite a few good spots to go to, with different goals in mind.  They went to ice rinks, outlet malls with Hot Topic, and a state park all within the same week.  The park ended up being Virgil’s favorite.  It was filled with giant rocks that people were encouraged to climb on.  They found a high up rock tucked in between trees overlooking a river, and stayed there for hours appreciating the view, and appreciating… other things.  If anyone saw them, the names on their wrists were covered, and people were much more likely to assume they were soulmates than otherwise.

It was as they were getting into the car to leave the park that Virgil turned to Janus.  “Janus?”

“Hmm?”

“We can’t pretend we’re not dating anymore, can we?”

Janus huffed a laugh.  “I don’t think we can,” he said.  “Not really.”

“Should we talk about that?”

“What part of it?”

“You know what part, Jan.”

Janus sighed.  “No, Virgil,” he said.  “I’m not going to force you to tell everyone now just because we’ve admitted we’re dating.  Believe it or not, I like things as they are.”  He leaned over and kissed Virgil as if to make his point.  Virgil’s hands drifted to hold the sides of his face as he kissed him back.

“Hey,” Virgil murmured as Janus pulled away to breathe.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janus replied easily, like he barely had to think about it, and Virgil pulled him closer as sparks lit inside his chest.  It was going to be awhile before they left the park.

…

“What about that hotel, we could stop there.”

“We are not stopping at a hotel, dumbass,” Virgil said, shoving Janus’ head from the side.  “These are supposed to be day trips.”

“Oh, Virgil, how could you deny me the chance to spend a night with you?” Janus asked, throwing a hand up to his forehead as if this was some huge betrayal.

“Don’t you have to be 18 to be able to buy a hotel room anyway?” Virgil pointed out, crossing his arms and smirking.

“Hmm.  Fair enough.  I know a motel a couple miles away, we could try that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the same deal.”

“I have a fake ID in the glove box.”

“You what?” Virgil laughed, pulling open the glove box to see that Janus was right.  “Why are we going to a motel and not a hotel if you have a fake ID?”

“So what I’m hearing is we can go to a hotel!”

“Janus!” Virgil groaned, trying to stop smiling.

“What, it’s not like we have school again tomorrow.  We’re not needed anywhere.”

“Yes, well as technically true as that is, tomorrow is still the day we all meet up at Roman’s house to set up the pool and swim.”

All of the mirth faded instantly from Janus’ face.  “Oh.”

“Hey, what?” Virgil asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.

“Nothing.  You’re allowed to have other friends,” Janus said, sounding sincere in that.

Virgil sighed.  “Except I never get to see you as is,” he muttered.  “Right?”

“Well… yes,” Janus admitted.

Virgil reached over and grabbed Janus’ hand on top of the steering wheel.  “Come with me, then.  I’ll ask them if you can come.  I’m sure they’ll say yes.”

“Oh?  And what will you say?  ‘Hey, are you three with your perfect fairy tale story ending cool with me bringing my boyfriend that isn’t my soulmate over to your house?”

“Well of course I wouldn’t say that,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “I’ll probably say you’re a friend I’ve met.”

Janus sighed and shook his head.

“Janus,” Virgil said, checking to make sure no other cars were around before pulling his hand onto the middle console.  “Come with me.  You can wear a swimsuit and look hot and make me wish I could come over and kiss your face off.”

Janus gave him a look, and Virgil could see his answer before he said it.

“Maybe another time, Virgil,” he said, pulling his hand away and putting it back on the wheel.

They made the rest of the trip home in silence, and after a while Virgil leaned on the window and fell asleep.

…

“LOGAN, LOOK OUT!” was all the warning that Logan got before Roman landed right on top of him and sent them both underwater.  Virgil started swimming over to them instantly, but both heads popped out of the water before he got there, though Logan was rubbing his and looked in pain.

“Do you never look before you leap into pools?” Logan asked, glaring at Roman.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Roman said, grabbing Logan’s head and starting to look it over.  “Here, I can kiss it better.”

“That is not how medical care works,” Logan said, as Roman kissed the area of his head he’d landed on.

“Oh for goodness sake, specs, I’m being sweet.” Roman said, continuing to look his head over.  “You look okay.  You want to get out for a minute?”

“I am alright.  I think a headache is forming after that, but I don’t feel I need medical attention.”

“Medical attention?  What happened?” Patton called, emerging from the house with a platter of various snacks.

“Roman was being the idiot he usually is and leapt right on top of Logan instead of just into the water,” Virgil said, swimming back over to lean against the side of the pool.

“Oh my goodness, are you two okay?” Patton said, setting the platter down and rushing over to the side of the pool.

“We’re alright, Patton,” Logan reassured, catching Patton’s hands before they could start fluttering over him in worry.  “Neither of us are seriously injured.”

“Good,” Patton muttered, kissing Logan quickly, and then moving on to do the same for Roman.  Virgil looked away, trying not to feel bitter.  He looked over at his phone, sitting over by his clothes, and debated going over to call Janus and make him get his ass over here.

He missed his boyfriend.  How had he gotten so used to seeing him every day so quickly?

The sound of people climbing out of the pool roused his attention, and Virgil saw Patton waving him over for the snacks he’d brought.  He pushed himself out of the pool and headed over to eat them, trying to push Janus out of his mind.

“You know, I heard there was going to be a new student coming to school after break is over,” Logan said.

“Ugh, of course you care about stuff like that,” Roman said, rolling his eyes and giving Logan an endeared smile.

“No, there was something about him.  His name sounded familiar, but I’m not sure why.”

“What’s his name?” Patton asked, popping a grape in his mouth.

“Um… Ethan, I think.  Ethan Baker.”

Virgil’s blood ran cold.  “What?”

Logan glanced over at him.  “What?”

“Oh my gosh, Logan!” Roman exclaimed.  “Why didn’t you say anything?  That’s Virgil’s soulmate, you dummy!”

Logan’s confused look cleared.  “Oh, that’s why it sounded familiar,” he said.  “Well, congratulations, Virgil.  Unless it’s a different Ethan Baker, it sounds like you might get to meet your soulmate soon.”

Virgil stood up suddenly and stumbled a few steps back.

“Virgil?” Patton asked, standing up and looking concerned again.  “Are you alright?”

“Um,” Virgil said, still moving backwards.  “I—”

Roman jumped up.  “Virgil, stop, you’re going to—”

The ground disappeared from under Virgil’s feet and his heart leapt into his throat a second before he hit the water, thankfully in a deep enough part of the pool that he didn’t hit his head on anything.

Maybe he could just stay down here and never have to face the reality that Logan just presented him with.

Unfortunately, a hand reached down into the water and pulled him upwards until he was above the surface and looking at Roman’s concerned face.

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, helping him out of the pool and sitting down next to him.

Virgil yanked his hand away and wrapped his arms around himself.  “Fine,” he muttered.  “I’m fine.  Everything’s fine.”

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton said, sitting on his other side.  “I get it.”

Virgil looked over at him.

“It’s okay,” Patton said, smiling.  “Of course meeting your soulmate is scary.  I was scared when I met Roman and Logan.”

“You were a kid,” Virgil pointed out.

“And?  You’re not allowed to be scared because you’re a little older than I was?  Virgil, it’s alright.  No one is going to blame you for being scared.  You don’t even have to meet him right away if you don’t want to.”

Something in Virgil’s chest lightened at the thought.  “I don’t?”

“Well, I wouldn’t conceal it from him,” Logan said, sitting down on the other side of Patton.  “You should tell him who you are.  But if you’re not ready for a relationship or even a friendship you can tell him that.”

“I can?” Virgil asked, as his heartbeat continued to slow.

“Oh, kiddo, of course,” Patton said, grabbing Virgil’s hand and squeezing it.

“This is your soulmate, Virge,” Roman said, and Virgil glanced over at him.  “You’re matched up for a reason.  He’s going to understand if you’re not ready.  And even if things are bumpy, it’ll be alright eventually.  I mean just look at my parents.”

Virgil wasn’t sure what Roman’s parents had to do with anything.  Roman had two dads who seemed as in love as any other soulmates Virgil had ever seen.

“Just relax, Virgil,” Roman said with a smile, cutting off his thoughts.  “There’s no reason to freak out before you even meet the guy.  You don’t know what he’ll be like.  Just keep that in mind.”

Virgil leaned forward and rested his head on his knees.  “Okay,” he murmured.  “I’ll do that.”

“These things tend to work themselves out, kiddo,” Patton said.  “That’s what soulmates are all about.”

Virgil’s test tightened again.  That’s kind of what I’m afraid of.

…

“Okay, I got your frantic text,” Janus said, pulling himself up into the treehouse.  “What’s going on?  Why are we meeting tonight when school starts again tomorrow?”

Virgil was grateful in the moment that he must have looked outwardly anxious in his position of being tucked against the back wall with his arms around his knees, because otherwise Janus definitely would have made some kind of joke about him being just that irresistible.

“There’s a new student coming to school after the break,” Virgil said.  “Named Ethan Baker.”

Janus shut his eyes and let out a long, slow breath.  He clearly knew what that meant.  He moved across the treehouse and sat in front of Virgil.  “Okay.  What do you want to do then?”

“What do you mean what do I want to do?” Virgil asked, staring at him.  “Janus, I want him not to come.”

“Yeah.  I figured.  But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s coming.  So what do you want to do?”

Virgil didn’t have an answer.  He didn’t want to think about it, or have to make this decision.  He didn’t want his parents to reject him.  He didn’t want Patton and Logan and Roman to hate him.  He didn’t want to go back to being alone and friendless, and especially not while dating someone who wasn’t his soulmate.  He’d be ostracized, and even when he was lonely, he hadn’t dealt with any level of vitriol.  But the issue was that, at the same time…

He wanted Janus.  He wanted this, stolen nights in a broken down treehouse and day trips over spring break and Janus’ wit and sarcasm and hatred for all things soulmates.  He just didn’t know if that want was strong enough to override all of the things that he didn’t want.

“I want…” he said after a moment.  “I want to meet him.  Who knows, maybe he’s an asshole who can fuck right off.”

“Maybe,” Janus said, in a tone that said ‘hopefully,’ but also in a way that meant he didn’t really believe that.

“Look,” Virgil said.  “What I want is to not decide anything before I meet him.  Let’s just do things like normal.  I’ll see you here on Friday.”

Janus looked at him for a moment, and nodded.  He turned as if about to leave, and suddenly Virgil wanted to scream at him to stop.  That would have been incredibly stupid, though, so instead he reached out and grabbed Janus’ arm.

Janus turned back to face him.

“What was that you said about wanting to spend a night with me?” Virgil asked, trying on a wobbly smile.

“I meant under different circumstances,” Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yes, but…” Virgil tried to figure out a way to say Don’t leave me like this without using those exact words.

Janus seemed to read it in his face.  “Okay,” he said, and he turned back around, thank god.  “But I’m not sleeping in a treehouse.”

Virgil nodded.  “Follow me,” he said, and climbed back across the branch into his bedroom, showing Janus where to put his hands and feet.

Janus dropped quietly down into the bedroom after him, and suddenly soulmates were gone from his mind, and the only thing Virgil could think about was that Janus was in his room.

When was the last time he’d cleaned up again?

Janus was smiling as he looked around.  “Wow, Virgil, you’re a regular neat freak, aren’t you?”

“Shut uuuup,” Virgil groaned, shoving his shoulder and stepping over various items as he started towards his bed.  Janus followed, and toed off his shoes at the edge.

“Here,” Virgil said, taking a short detour to his dresser and handing Janus one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in.  He crawled into bed as Janus changed, and then joined him a minute later, wrapping his arms around his waist.  Virgil leaned back against him.

“I set an alarm so I’ll get up and leave,” Janus said.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured.  He was quiet for a minute.  “Hey Janus?”

“Hmm?”

“I still love you.”

“I love you too,” Janus whispered, kissing the top of Virgil’s head, which made Virgil feel warm in an entirely different way from how he felt after a makeout session.  He fell asleep still warm all over.

…

Virgil recognized Ethan by finding his name on his wrist, which really just felt like one more way for the universe to laugh at him.  But Logan was right.  He couldn’t just hide from Ethan the fact that he was his soulmate.  So instead, he walked up and tapped him on the shoulder, feeling like he was sealing his fate.

Which he supposed, in a way, he was.

Ethan turned with a slightly curious smile.  “Hello,” he said.

“Ethan Baker?”

Ethan nodded, looking more curious.

“Uh,” Virgil waved his wrist.  “I’m Virgil Storm.”

Ethan’s eyes widened.  “Oh.  Oh, my goodness!”

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered, trying to make his smile look happier than he felt.

“Well, hi!” Ethan said, starting to smile much wider.  “It’s so lovely to meet you, Virgil!  I never would have thought—”  The warning bell rang overhead.

“Oh, damn that thing,” Ethan muttered, looking up at it.  “I wish we had more time to talk.”

“What class do you have?” Virgil asked.

“Uh… Holden.  English.”

Virgil tried to smile wider.  “Well, I’ve got good news then.  That’s my class too.  Want to walk with me?”

“Oh, awesome!” Ethan said.  “Yes, please!  It’s so good to meet you!”

“You too,” Virgil said, falling into step beside Ethan as they started down the hallway.

Come on, Virgil.  Give the guy a chance.  Maybe this will all work out fine and he is an asshole.  Maybe he’s about to say something super dick-ish right now.  Here it comes.

Ethan beamed over at him.  “I should have known you’d be even more gorgeous than I pictured,” he said.

Goddammit.

…

Ethan wasn’t an asshole, by any stretch of the imagination.  Virgil really tried, he tried so hard to hate him.  It should be easy, he was an expert at hating people for no reason!  He tried twisting all of Ethan’s words and actions into the most despicable light he could manage.  But Ethan was just too damn sweet.

He was gentle and caring.  His smile could light up a room.  He got along perfectly with all of Virgil’s friends.  Virgil was pretty sure he tried harder than anything else he’d ever done in his life, but he just couldn’t hate him.  Why couldn’t he hate him?  Was this the universe fucking with him?  Was there some kind of genetic thing that kicked in that made people incapable of hating their soulmates?

Or was Ethan just that fucking nice?

Either way, Virgil couldn’t hate the guy.  He wanted to, but he couldn’t.  Maybe that was why he was hiding here.  Virgil looked up from the stage, glad at least that the auditorium was big as well as empty.

He just couldn’t go back to class, where everyone would be staring at him and Ethan like all of their future problems were solved now.  He buried his head in his knees.  He wanted to get out of here.

He didn’t register any kind of bell ringing, but one must have, because doors opened and people started coming in, and Virgil remembered that there were drama classes in the auditorium.  He jumped up and headed backstage, trying to control his now much worse breathing.  He’d be fine, he just had to last until everyone starting doing things and then he could—

“Virgil?”

Of course.  Of course he would be here.

“Hey,” Ethan said, coming backstage.  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Virgil shook his head.  “No,” he choked out.  “No, I don’t want—”  He yanked his hood over his head and pulled hard on the strings until his face was obscured.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me.  Just come here, alright?  People are going to be coming back here soon.”

Virgil grabbed onto his hand when it was offered because he didn’t know what else to do, and they ended up in what looked like a prop area underneath the stage.

“Hey, breathe with me, okay?  I’m gonna count to four, try and breathe in.  It’s okay if you can’t make it all the way there.”

He started doing that, and waited so damn patiently until Virgil finally managed to calm down, and the whole time he didn’t make a single sudden move, and Virgil wished that he wanted him to leave.

When Virgil was breathing normally again, Ethan just smiled gently and leaned back.  He didn’t ask a damn thing about what happened.  He just said “You okay?” in a way that meant it would be totally fine if the answer was no.

Virgil took a shaky breath and nodded.  “Thank you,” he whispered, because Ethan was good at that, and he hadn’t met another person who knew how to do anything like this before he told them.

“Of course,” Ethan said with a nod.

“How did you know what to do?” Virgil asked.

“My little sister gets panic attacks sometimes.  I wanted to learn how to help her, so I did some research.”

Virgil nodded.  “Guess that’s lucky,” he muttered.  He looked up at Ethan.  “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want from this?”

Ethan looked confused.  “From what?”

“Me.  What are you looking for?”

“Well, a soulmate,” Ethan said, like that should be obvious.  “I don’t want to start dating you if you’re not ready, of course, but eventually.  I— I like you, Virgil,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he started to blush.  “I’d love a relationship with you once you’re ready.”

What if I’m never ready, Virgil didn’t say.  He shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall behind him.

“Virgil,” Ethan said, and Virgil opened his eyes again.  “If you are not ready to date me, we don’t have to date yet.  Is that what you’re panicking about?”

“I… don’t know,” Virgil lied.

“I’m not going to rush you,” Ethan said, taking a small step forward.  “Or push you.  I want to move at a pace we’re both comfortable with, and if that means I have to wait, I’m okay with that.  For now, I would be more than happy to be your friend, Virgil Storm.”

Virgil looked back at his soulmate, with the universe stamp of approval.  It was the ‘for now’ part of that statement he was going to have issues with.  But then again, maybe for now… that would be fine.

…

Virgil’s entire body melted with relief when Janus appeared in the doorway of the treehouse.

“Janus,” he said, climbing up and moving across to meet him.  He started to pull Janus down into a kiss, only to be stopped by Janus pushing back a second later.

“Janus?”  He stopped moving when he noticed the look on Janus’ face.  “Janus, what’s wrong?”

“Virgil, we need to talk,” Janus said.

“Oh, hardly,” Virgil said, starting to smile.  “I have good news.  Ethan says we don’t have to date if I’m not ready.  And I’m not.  So…”  He leaned up to pull Janus down to him again.

Janus sighed and pushed him back.  “Virgil.”

Virgil stopped smiling.  “What?”

“Did you miss the not ready part of that sentence?” Janus said, sitting down across from him.  “He definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with you dating other people in the meantime.”

Virgil scowled.  “I don’t owe him anything.”

“Yes, you do.  He’s your soulmate.”

“And since when does that kind of thing matter to you?  Part of the whole damn reason you fell for me is because I’m not your soulmate.  You hate soulmates.”

“But you don’t,” Janus said, looking firmly at him.  “Virgil, I saw you with him.  You don’t hate him.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him!  I love you.”

Janus sighed.  “Virgil.”

“What?”

“You can’t possibly see yourself falling for him?  There’s no chance you could end up in love with him even more than you are with me?”

Virgil leaned back.  “What— Janus.  It’s not about that.”

“What’s it about then, Virgil?  Come on, he seems made for you.  That’s what they say soulmates are supposed to be, don’t they?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes.  “I don’t care.”

“Oh, so you don’t care about whether or not your family wants you to be with him?  Or your friends?  Or everyone else?”

Virgil winced.  “That’s different.”

“I’m not going to push you into the limelight like that, Virgil.  You seem uncomfortable now, when you’re doing what everyone expects of you.  If someone found out you were dating me, I…” Janus shook his head, looked more helpless than Virgil had ever seen him before.  “I can’t do that to you,” he finished, shifting backwards slightly.

“Don’t you think that should be my decision?” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

“Well, I’m making it.  I’m sorry.”  Janus stood up and started for the ladder.

“Wh- wait, Janus!” Virgil moved and started climbing down after him, catching his arm before he could run from the backyard.

Janus sighed, then turned and faced him.  “It’s okay,” he said.  “We’ll be okay.  Don’t try and stop yourself from falling for him, Virgil.  I won’t even be a little mad, I promise.”

“Janus, please.”  Virgil tried to pull him back, but Janus wouldn’t budge.  “What— what if I don’t see you again?”

Janus smiled sadly.  “How ever will I last,” he whispered, leaning in one last time and kissing Virgil gently.

The way he did goodbyes.

He pulled his hand out of Virgil’s and ran for the back gate, slipping through it and into the night.

…

When Virgil had no reason to try and dislike Ethan, liking him was much easier.  He was sweet, and very cute when he was excited, which tended to happen whenever he talked about theatre, which was his favorite part of school (he got along well with Roman).  He knew how to help Virgil if he was panicking, and he took an interest in the kinds of things Virgil liked.  Virgil tried so hard to return the favor, but he couldn’t make himself interested for very long.  That… that was okay.  That would change with time.

For all of Virgil’s fears about what having a soulmate would do to his relationship with Janus, now that the worst had happened, having one actually having one wasn’t so bad.  Ethan was easy to care about, and easy to spend time with, even if their interests didn’t always line up.  Virgil would fall in love with him.  He just needed a little more time.

These things worked themselves out, Patton said.  That had to be true.

Virgil’s parents were thrilled to meet Ethan.  His mom got along with him really well, and his dad seemed approving, if his smiles and nods to Virgil were anything to go by.  His mom was astounded when Ethan mentioned they weren’t dating yet.

“Why in the world not?” she asked, looking over at Virgil across the dinner table.

“It’s just… a big step,” Virgil muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” his mom said, in the way she did when she thought Virgil was being too anxious about something.  “I suppose that’s fair.  Take your time, of course.”

“It’s not just him,” Ethan said suddenly.  “I don’t want to rush things either.  We both decided to just take it slow.”

Virgil smiled gratefully at him, glad for the save. Ethan gave his hand a quick reassuring squeeze under the table.

They went up to Virgil’s room after dinner, and Ethan seemed concerned.  “Is your mom always that pushy?” he asked, as Virgil shut the door.

“She just… wants me to push myself,” he said.  “She thinks I would be more satisfied if I took more risks, went after what I want.”

“What if you don’t know what you want?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“And therein lies the main problem in my relationship with my mother,” Virgil sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

Ethan chuckled a little, moving to lean against the wall next to the door.

Virgil worried his lip between his teeth, and looked back at Ethan.  “You’re really okay with moving slowly?”

“Virgil, I told you,” Ethan said, smiling genuinely at him.  “I want you to be comfortable.”

“You want to be with me though,” Virgil said.

“I… do,” Ethan admitted.  “But if you’re not ready for that, I don’t want to rush you.”

Virgil looked at him a moment longer.  Ethan wasn’t bad looking.  Virgil liked him as a person.  Maybe in order to make the switch into liking him romantically, he just had to force it a little.

He took three steps across the room and kissed Ethan square on the mouth.  Ethan made a muffled noise of surprise, and Virgil pulled back instantly.  Idiot, you need to ask before doing something like that, you moron.

“I’m sorry!” Virgil said, stepping back.  “I’m sorry, I just— I—”

Ethan cut him off by reaching up and pulling him back in to kiss him again, and in the moment, all Virgil felt was relief that he hadn’t freaked him out or pissed him off.

He could do this.  He’d done this a hundred times with Janus, he just had to… go through the motions.  Come on, Virgil.  You know what you’re doing.

He pulled Ethan with him as he stumbled back across the room and pulled them both onto his bed, wrapping his arms around his back and trying to push himself a little farther.  He’d start feeling something any second now, he just needed to—

“Okay, okay, woah,” Ethan pushed him back, panting.  “I need to breathe.”

Virgil leaned back.  “Sorry.”

“Hey, no apologies necessary,” Ethan said, grinning at him.  “You… you’re very good at this.”

Virgil felt his cheeks grow warm.  “You wouldn’t guess, huh,” he muttered.

“Absolutely not a bad surprise,” Ethan said.  “It just might be my turn to ask you to slow down a tad.”

Virgil nodded.  “Okay.  You’ve got it.”  He looked down and fidgeted with his fingers.  “Want to watch a movie?”

“That sounds nice,” Ethan said, still looking very happy with the situation.  Virgil leaned over the side of his bed and grabbed his laptop as Ethan sat up.

It’s okay.  It’s okay.  You’ll fall for him.  You just need a little more time.

…

Time passed, and Virgil didn’t fall for him.  He didn’t know what else to do.  He tried to come up with something to make it better, some kind of “at least” to work off of.  At least Ethan was nice.  At least he was pretty.  At least everyone else was happy for him.  At least Janus didn’t hate him.  None of them seemed to work.

Virgil was quickly becoming the soulmate envy of all just like Patton, Roman, and Logan, and feeling absolutely miserable because of it.  He hadn’t shown it, of course.  He’d beamed at Ethan and kissed his cheek before classes and smiled and rolled his eyes in endearment whenever someone asked him how knowing his soulmate felt.

He couldn’t stand it.  He was pretty sure he’d never felt less like himself.  But Patton and Logan and Roman all smiled at him like they thought he was happy, and so did his parents, and so did Ethan, so Virgil tried to brush aside the miserable feeling in his chest and fool himself like he’d fooled everyone else.

He hadn’t expected a change to come from Roman.  With his general romanticism and his perfect soulmate story, he’d expected Roman to be the last person to be able to tell when someone wasn’t happy with theirs.  He’d noticed the occasional suspicious look sent his way by him, but he’d managed to brush it off.  He certainly hadn’t expected Roman to say anything.

On the day he did, Virgil had already been feeling pretty shitty.  It was around lunchtime, Ethan was sitting next to Virgil and smiling at him as they both ate, riveting them all with a story about what had happened during drama class.  Virgil had mastered the art of smiling and nodding along, and that’s what he was doing when he turned at just the wrong time and met eyes with Janus, who looked as miserable as Virgil felt.

His eyes widened when their gazes met, and Virgil tried to think of the last time he’d seen Janus in any way.  Janus was very good at disappearing.

As if proving his point, Janus looked away and disappeared into the crowded room like a ghost.

Virgil stood up and pushed his chair back, saying something about going to the bathroom before all but sprinting from the lunchroom.

About halfway to the bathroom he realized that was a mistake, because it was just going to make Ethan come looking for him, so he veered right to head out to the football field.  He sat on the bleachers and buried his head in his knees, trying to quiet any of his rushing thoughts.

“You are going to seriously hurt someone.”

Virgil jerked upwards and saw Roman walking up the side of the bleachers towards him, arms crossed and looking firm.

Virgil swallowed, recovering his bearings as Roman stopped in front of him.  “What?” he asked.

“Virgil, if you don’t love Ethan you need to tell him that.”

Virgil’s mouth went dry.  “What are you talking about, I do—”

“No.  You don’t.”

Virgil looked away.  “But I have to.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Virgil.  You clearly don’t.”

“But he’s my soulmate.  What… what else is there?” Virgil asked, like he didn’t know the answer to that question by heart.

Roman didn’t reply right away.

Then suddenly, Virgil was pulled up off the bleachers and into a hug.

“Oh, Virgil,” Roman whispered.  “Virgil.  There is so much more if you want it.”

Virgil blinked quickly, trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.  “What?”

Roman leaned back.  “Virgil, what on earth made you think that all soulmate bonds have to be romantic?”

“What— but you— but they are,” Virgil insisted.  “That’s just how soulmates work.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem very fair,” Roman said, smiling gently.  “First of all, aromantic people would be shit out of luck if all soulmate bonds had to be romantic.” Roman’s look turned curious.  “I have told you about my mother before, right?”

“Your mother, what— don’t you have two dads?”

“Not always.  My mother married my father before she realized she didn’t experience romantic attraction.  She ended up divorcing dad, but they’re still close friends.  That’s how their soulmate bond works, but my dads aren’t soulmates.  And mom lives with Remus.  He and I are soulmates, but that’s definitely not romantic.”

“Who’s Remus?” Virgil asked.

“My brother,” Roman said, waving his hand dismissively.  “He and mom live a couple districts over.  He’ll come over here more often on summer vacation and you can meet him.  Point is, soulmate bonds aren’t inherently romantic, nor should they be, in my opinion.”

“But… but you’re in love with Patton and Logan,” Virgil said weakly.

“Because I choose to be, Virgil.  The three of us don’t have to be dating.  I know that’s what most people tend to do, but it’s not fair to expect that of everyone.  What if you don’t want a partner right then?  Or ever?  What if you fall in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate?”

Virgil’s blood ran cold, and he took a step back, almost stumbling into the bleachers.  “Who told you?” he whispered.

Roman’s face fell.  “Oh, Virgil,” he said.  He moved forward and pulled Virgil into a hug again.  “No one told me, Virge.  I’m so sorry.”

Virgil’s breathing started to shake, and he pushed himself back from Roman.  “I thought— I thought you wouldn’t understand,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around himself.  “Because your soulmate story is so perfect.  I thought you wouldn’t—”

“A lot of people don’t,” Roman said quietly.  “I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong for being afraid.  But right now all you’re doing is hurting Ethan, and yourself, and the other person you love.”

Virgil sat down on the bleachers and buried his head in his hands.  Roman, after a moment, sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“I have to break up with him, don’t I,” Virgil muttered.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do in that regard,” Roman said.  “But I think you should strongly consider telling him what’s going on.”

Virgil nodded.  “I thought I could make myself love him,” he whispered.

“Love doesn’t work like that, Virgil,” Roman whispered.

“It would be easier if it did,” Virgil muttered.

“Yes,” Roman agreed.  “But then you wouldn’t get to have the person you love now.  Is that what you want instead?”

Virgil shook his head instantly.  He hadn’t wanted to lose Janus in the first place.  He didn’t want to trade him for anything.

“Do you want to stay out here for a while?” Roman asked.

“I want you to go get Ethan,” Virgil said firmly.

Roman blinked, seeming surprised.  “Right now?”

Virgil nodded.  “Yes.”

Roman still looked hesitant.  “Are you—”

“I’m sure.”

Roman must have seen he meant it, because a second later he nodded.  “Alright.  I’ll be back.  Um, advice, don’t dance around the subject.  Be straightforward and genuine, but also gentle if you can.”

Virgil nodded.  “Okay,” he said, and Roman left.  Virgil leaned back against the bleachers and took a deep breath.  This wasn’t going to be fun.  It may not be romantic in nature, but he did love Ethan, and he didn’t want to hurt him.  He leaned forward and buried his head in his hands again.  Why had he thought this would last?

“Virgil?”

Virgil jerked upright and spun around, because that wasn’t Ethan’s voice.

Sure enough, there was Janus, standing just at the edge of the bleachers and looking concerned.

Virgil leapt to his feet.  “Where the hell have you been?” he snapped.

“I saw you run off, I wanted to make sure you’re okay—”

“Not what I meant.  You completely ignore my texts and then you avoid me at school?  You asshole.”

Janus turned his hands upwards, looking a little offended.  “What, did you want me to hang around all the time?”

“I didn’t want you to leave in the first place you idiot,” Virgil snapped, jumping down from the bleachers and storming over to stand in front of Janus.  “You were clearly miserable on your own.”

“And you were fine,” Janus said, stepping towards him.  “I was trying not to be selfish for once.”

“Oh, I was fine?” Virgil said, throwing his hands to the sky.  “Janus who’s spent most of these past months avoiding me thinks I was fine.  Never mind then.”

“I thought you wanted to do what everyone expected of you,” Janus snapped.  “It’s not like you ever wanted to fight for me.”

“Oh, fuck you, Janus!  I wanted what everyone expected of me because that made me feel safe.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“No, right now I just want to feel alive again,” Virgil said, moving forward until he was nose-to-nose with Janus.  “Which is kind of hard to do considering I’m starting to spend my whole life going through the motions.”

“Why would you need me to change that?”

“Moron,” Virgil said, and pulled Janus into a kiss, desperate and passionate and making up for all of the months he’d been gone.

They both pulled apart when a gasp came from nearby.

Virgil spun around to see Ethan standing at the edge of the walkway leading up to the field.

“Wait,” Virgil said, stepping towards him.  “Wait, that’s not how this was supposed to happen.  Ethan—”

Ethan spun around but didn’t leave, and Virgil moved across the field until he was right behind him.

“You’re never like that with me,” Ethan murmured.

“I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to be how I did this—”

“But you were going to do this.  You were going to leave me for him.  He’s not even your soulmate.”

“I know.  I… I’m sorry.  I do love you, Ethan.  Just not…”

“Not like I love you,” Ethan said, looking over his shoulder at Virgil.

Virgil winced.  “I’m sorry.”

Ethan laughed a little and looked down.  “I think I kinda knew it, you know?  I just wanted… I wanted to be enough for you.  But I was never going to be, was I?”

Virgil started to reach for him, but stopped and dropped his hand.  “I’m sorry,” he said again.  “You can… you can hate me if you want.”

Ethan looked up at him again.  “But you don’t want that.”

“Not everything has to be about what I want,” Virgil said quietly.

Ethan turned to face the school.  “I… I’m going now, Virgil,” he said.  “I’ll call you if I’m ever ready to talk again.”

“Okay,” Virgil whispered.  “Take care, Ethan.”

“You… you too,” Ethan said, and then he walked away.

Virgil watched him until he was gone, and then turned around to face Janus, who was casually looking around back in the middle of the field.  He looked back at Virgil when he started walking across to meet him.

“All good?” Janus asked, like he already knew the answer.

Virgil shook his head.  “No.”

Janus nodded.  “Yeah,” he muttered.

They both looked at each other for a moment.

“Janus?”

“Virgil?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Janus started grinning, and held out his hand.  Virgil grabbed it, and they both started running.  They made it to Janus’ car, and both got in, and drove.  And drove, and planned to drive some more.

Nothing was fixed.  They’d have to come back and face the music eventually.  Virgil had to tell Patton and Logan what happened.  He’d need to tell Janus about Roman’s parents.  They’d have to figure out a way to make this work, actually work, work in the way they both wanted.

But for now, they rolled down the windows, and drove out of the suburbs and out under the open sky.  Virgil screamed My Chemical Romance lyrics at the top of his lungs.  More than once throughout the drive he checked to make sure no other cars were around and leaned in to kiss Janus’ face off.  He had a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.

And now, hopefully, a lot of time to do it.

Part 2

[starshipsofstarlord]

World Revelations

@etherealsxnder​

Warnings; spoilers for season 13, mentions of death, angst, lack of hope, some Alex Calvert x reader, and tiny bit of jack x reader, swearing, brief illusions to sex, angry brothers, mentions of a sex scene, insecurities, online hate, protective winchester brothers, apocalypse world, major character death, lucifer

(Y/A/N) – Your Acting Name.

A/N; it’s a little bit different from the request, so sorry about that, but I hope that any one that reads this enjoys. Also sorry about the wait, I had bad writers block, but when I started writing this it sorta figured itself out and I may have got carried away. Feel free to tell me what you think ☺️

“Look, I am not going to some other world to help stop Michael. But I can help you in another way, one where none of us get harmed.” Gabriel shrugged, reducing Sam’s expression to confusion. The archangel had felt like their last hope at retrieving their mother, into delving into the apocalypse world, and here he was, turning him down.

 He had tried his very best to make the celestial being better, and here he was, talking again, able to use his grace rather than have it removed and syringed into a demon’s veins. However, he still refused, and the hunter had no other plan in forcing Gabriel into helping. This was the last shot, and it had been blown.

 But however could he still help? This was the primary problem that had to be solved, there was no other route they could take to bring their family back together. And that was all that mattered in this life, saving people, remaining together.

 “What are you talking ab-“ Before Sam could complete his question, Gabriel set him with a poised glare, and snapped his magical fingers, a spark of electric blue grace sparking from the action. That was all Sam saw before he felt himself transported, and once he opened his eyes, he remained in the bunker, however there were cameras around him, and an entire filming crew.

 Gabriel had sent him to the other life, another world in which he presumed that he was called Jared. “What the hell Sammy?” Dean barked from beside him, twisting and turning his sights around, upon realising that although this looked like their home, it was an alternate version of it. A set, made of fake walls and truthless literature that was not at all necessary in this peaceful, monster-less realm. “Son of a bitch!”

 “Cut!” One of the cameramen called out, shaking his head exasperatedly at the line said wrong. Jensen had been doing so well, and Jensen seemed to have slipped far too into character, to the point where he had forgotten his lines. “Do you need to see the script again, or would you rather take a short break?”

 “I’ll go for the break.” Dean confirmed, grabbing Sam’s forearm and hastily dragging him from the onlookers, and towards which he assumed was his, well, Jensen’s trailer. It looked pretty much the same as last time. “Gabriel?” He asked, rightly assuming that the blame of this mishap ordeal was down to the glowing figure.

 “He refused to help us open a rift.” Sam licked his lips, his eyes jutting around the luxurious space. “And then he snapped his fingers, and we were here.” Here, another earth. However this was not their home, it was a disfigured writing of it, if anything, it was worse than the books Chuck wrote. There were more fans, and more complications that came along with being here in place of the actors.

 “We don’t have time for his tricks.” Sighed Dean, raking his hair with his rough hand. “Parading around as a painted whore is not on my agenda, all I care about is getting mum back, we have to get home quick.”

 “Dean, I don’t think that this is a trick…” Sam spoke to his elder brother, in thought of Gabriel’s words. “He said he could help us in another way. I don’t think he meant taking us away from the problem, there must be something else.” No matter how much he rolled the idea around his head, he could come to no conclusion.

 “What?” There was already plenty on the man’s mind, he didn’t need another incident coming their way. Dean was to begin speaking again, until a knock rapped against the door to his double’s trailer, intruding his mindset. Him and Sam shared a glance and frown until Dean called whomever was on the other side in, and to their dismay, he looked exactly like Castiel.

 Misha Collins. Last time they had visited this place, he had died, but the return of the real selves must have somewhat fixed the timeline, he looked well, even if he still was dressed as their angelic friend. “Hey, I was seeing if you are ready for the scene tomorrow.”

 “Scene? Which scene?” ‘Jared’ asked the colleague of his false identity, unaware of the context in which Misha spoke in. Dean only huffed and rolled his eyes, until Misha spoke, and he froze, both the brothers understanding Gabriel’s meaning for sending them to this world.

 “(Y/N)’s death scene. Apparently it’s gonna be quite emotional, and it’ll be strange after, not having the kid on set anymore.” It was a revelation, a nightmare that foreshadowed the truth in their own dimension.

 “Thanks uh- Misha.” ‘Jensen’ rubbed his hand over his face, shocked by the oncoming doom. They had already lost far too many members in their makeshift hunter family, but this was different. This was their sister, whom they had protected and vouched to continue doing since the day she was born. And now the universe had this grand plan of cutting her young life short, and sending her to either heaven or hell, where so many people they loved already were.

 “Do you know where um, (Y/A/N) is right now?” Sam asked, desperate to somehow convince her to remain on the show. It was the only way in which he could save his younger sibling, and he would, by the gods, do anything that he possibly could. Him and Dean had already had meetings with death himself, he couldn’t allow the new version to come and take you.

 Billy would not compromise, she was intent on having a Winchester under her cloak, forever taken from life, never to return to the living. And they couldn’t take a chance, any chance on not getting (Y/N) back, she was a legacy as were they, but she was supposed to live on for longer. Their names would otherwise be nothing more than memories in the world of hunters, until they faded into distant and dead members of the community.

 “In her trailer, I think. She’s rehearsing with Alexander I think.” The name that he mentioned was unfamiliar to the unfitting pair, but they spared no thought to it. Instead they sent him a quick smile before leaving the confines that they felt trapped in, and began their search for the actress of their sister.

 “We have to change her mind Sammy. If she stays on the show, then our (Y/N) lives. It is the simplest solution.” Dean spoke as they walked through the lines of trailers, unable to find the name that they were searching for on any door. “Where the hell is her damn trailer?”

 Sam squinted, until a name he had heard was seen on one of the doors. Alexander, whoever that was. Before he could even put any thought into his actions, he subconsciously knocked on the door, waiting a moment for an answer. And when the door opened, they were met with who looked like Jack, his hair a mess, and his shirt hanging over his shoulder, clearly put on in panic.

 “What’s up guys, need something?” He scratched the back of his neck, impatient with the situation, considering the one that he had been interrupted from. A part of him feared that this was one of Jared’s infamous pranks, he had mostly been on the end of shifted lines, but worse could have been heading his way for all he knew.

 Dean frowned at the sight of young man, it hardly felt right seeing the innocent boy that they knew with sex hair and slight bruises upon his neck. He cleared his throat, keeping up his expression, as he spoke to the boy. He had softened up to Jack, he was their kid in some ways, but this was no Nephilim, if anything it was worse, it was a man who impersonated they kid.

 “Heard that uh, (Y/A/N) was running lines with you. Y’know where she is?” Alex’s eyes shifted slightly inside of his personal space, before everything was given away by a familiar giggle. It sounded the exact same as the one that often left (Y/N)’s mouth. Dean knew it, he would never be capable of mistaking it.

 The noise had renegaded in his ears since she had been born, in the impala as John drove, through the halls of the bunker as her and Sam made jokes about his cholesterol. At the worst of times, before he knew that they existed, he liked to think that it was the voice of angel, she always guided him on the right path, and if she were to disappear from his life, he would sorely lose the track that he was hellbent on walking down.

 And he could see her face now, as she tugged the sheet over her body. A frown sculpted her expression, as she looked exasperatedly between Alex whom had tried to lure the tall pair from the confines of his trailer, and the intruders who had barged carelessly in. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if her and Alexander had actually been running lines, however the situation explained more than enough of the fact that they indeed were not.

 “Jared, Jensen, can you like, I don’t know, not cockblock me, for once in your elderly lives?” It felt peculiar, for both Sam and Dean. They knew that this was not their sister, but her calling them by other names was so foreign. Their skins crawled at the labelling, and it only reminded them farther of their cause, the reason that they were sent by an angelic being to be here in this very moment.

 “I am also getting bored of it.” Alexander tilted his head, in agreement with (Y/A/N), who only grinned at his compliance to suit her opinions, and Dean could only roll his eyes, just like he did with Jack the majority of the time. “But it’s cool, but can we hurry this along, I mean not to be rude, but aren’t you guys supposed to be filming a scene in like five minutes?”

 Sam cleared his throat, admittedly he did like Jack. The kid was sweet, however this was not him, it rather was a man who pretended to be a Nephilim for payment, and was bedding the doppelganger of his sister. If he were to see his sister and the devil’s child in such a compromising predicament, most people would assume he’d be the calm sibling, but they’d be wrong. He would go mad, and think of a way to keep the pair separate.

 But luckily for them, there had never been such adult situations insinuated between their dear (Y/N) and Jack, or at least not that they were aware of. This riled Dean, and so he couldn’t help but feel like exploding. It angered him that any man had laid their bare and lustrous hands upon his youngest sibling. No one was to have that pleasure, she was supposed to remain innocent, even if she were legal.

 “Seriously?! Jack of all people?!” He bellowed at (Y/A/N), shaking his head at their obvious exchange. If (Y/A/N) had any clothes on underneath the white sheet that hugged her body as she lay on the sofa, her instincts would have driven her over to Jensen and her palm would have met the side of his stubbly face.

 “First of all, you need to start remembering Alex’s name, and that goes for Jared too. You can’t just keep calling him Jack, even after I’m done here and move onto my next project.” Her words, although not having the intent to, had the effect of triggering Sam’s goal, in-deliberately reminding him of their foremost goal. It was not to get angry at the characters that played them and their loved ones, it was to save someone that was incredibly important to their world.

 “And second,” the woman in covering continued, “this isn’t exactly going to get me to stay on the goddamn show, if you barge in here, interrupting our privacy. If you don’t like what me and Alex are doing off screen, you sure aren’t going to like what is gonna go down between (Y/N) and Jack. Sometimes I do swear that you’re just like Sam and Dean.”

 The jab she made at them struck nerves, but they knew that this was not the real her. It may have looked like (Y/N), but this was only a woman who played the part of her. “We’ve been trying to make you stay on the show?” Sam asked, his voice soft. He didn’t want to be harsh, she was already uncomfortable enough.

 It was her unknowing that they were actually Sam and Dean that could be an element that they could use, a tool of convincing. “Yes, for weeks now.” (Y/A/N) sighed, pinching the point that was between her eyebrows. “And I’m getting tired of it, and overall, this character. I’ve played her for years on end, I think that her story should have a finishing point, a finale. I’m ready for bigger and brighter things, something that is not pretending to be a strong woman on set, and as soon as I walk away from the cameras, I go back to being weak.”

 “I think you’re going to have to explain a little more if I’m going to get any of that.” Dean prompted, both him and Sam had turned away, giving the actress in the sheets the privacy to change. The shuffling of fabrics could be heard, they had been in worse situations with their sister, small motel rooms, of which they could usually only afford one in the past, helped nobody. And none of them received the personal space that should have been an outright human right.

 “Of course neither of you understand.” Alex sighed, “she wants a smaller workspace, one where there aren’t so many eyes on her. The whole ordeal got out of hand, and now there are people online saying terrible things about her and I. Neither of you have made such a mistake, or had something so sacred and personal leaked on the internet. The things people say really digs in deep, she at least wants a break, can’t you understand that?”

 “Wait, what got leaked?” Sam’s curiosity often informed him of things that he did not wish to be aware of, and this was one of their instances. Alex huffed and rolled his eyes, walking over to where (Y/A/N) was now fully clothed, and took a seat on the sofa beside her, their eyes meeting and mirroring smiles shining at one another.

 The sight admittedly made Sam smile, but it made Dean feel internally sick. The sight of what looked like their sister and Jack fuelled a fire inside of him, he wanted his eyes to burn and the memory to be forever removed from his sights.

 “Look, you play a pretty badass character, although I’d say Dean has a bit more kick to him.” The man himself chuckled, but no one joined in, so he continued through a forced smile, coming to sit down next to Alex, his ignorance to what happened there merely minutes ago encouraging his brother to cringe.

  “But that’s not my only point, you’re here, whilst those sad souls that sit behind their computers all day waste their time typing crap. The life you have, the family that you have here, is worth more than the opinions of a few, invisible idiots, who are only jealous of everything that you have earned for yourself. Don’t breathe their toxicity win, because if you do, the bad guys win, and then you will only fade out of the spotlight and they’ll forget all about you, and all of the things they ever posted about you.”

 Alex had been understanding through all of (Y/N)’s decision to leave the cast, although to begin with he had tried to convince her to stay. And it seemed out of all of them, it was Jensen that made her reconsider her options, he could see it behind her eyes, the unravelling of interest, the flickering of hope.

 The only thing that the younger actor could not tell were that these were not Jensen’s words, they fell from the lips of Dean Winchester himself. A character that he knew of, and was an important symbol on the show that he was cast on. But it did not matter if he was not aware of that snippet, because it changed nothing, other than possibly (Y/A/N)’s mindful decision.

 “You know what, you’re right Ackles. It’s not often that I say that, but the thought of leaving everyone here, settling for something that I have no connection to or history with, it is undermining. And I’m going to talk to Kripke, he’ll be over the moon with the consideration, however if he chooses that (Y/N) is to die as was planned due to my indecisiveness, then that shall be the battle that I am to bargain with.” They had won (Y/A/N) over, it was victory.

 It was also the closest that they could do by themselves to save (Y/N). If this didn’t work, they would be nothing more than John’s broken tools, defined by all those that they were always mourning. And it would only make their sister another name on that sour list, even if her death would pain them substantially more than others.

 “I guess we’ll go then.” Sam awkwardly spoke, encouraging Dean to stand from the christened furniture and join him in leaving the sexually active couple alone. He sent the woman a nod, and Alex a raised eyebrow. He would have Jack’s head if he ever thought he had the guts or wings to be so intimate with their sister, he’d make him feel something, and it would be painful. Torturous even.

 They shut the door behind them as they departed from the actors, a smirk on Dean’s face. He felt victorious, he was the same hero that would read (Y/N) stories when it was dark and a storm was thundering outside, as she hid under the duvet of some dingy motel bed, a torch protecting her from the enveloping bleakness, but also her brothers. “I’d call this a win.”

 “They said about a video…” Sam had Jared’s phone in his hand, he scrolled through the feed with a wrinkled nose and scorned eyes. After he received an answer to what it was concluding, he put the device away, he could never look at Jack and (Y/N) around each other the same again. It was burdened by the facts of this world, contradicting the innocence that both the kids in their world showed. “It was a leaked sex scene of the show, Dean.”

 “Heck no!” Growled the elder brother, shaking his head. The instant images that flashed through his mind of the Nephilim atop of his little sister made his teeth grit in anger, and a pit of queasiness fold in the cave of his stomach. He already wasn’t too sure on Lucifer’s spawn, this only enhanced that formed opinion, and he wished to shoot the child more than ever in this instant, even if the real him was not around.

 “They’re not actually the people we know Dean.” Sam comforted him, easing his anger, but only slightly. “Nothing like that has happened between them, he is in another world, whilst (Y/N) is in the bunker, reading lore and trying to find a way to bring mum and Jack back to us.”

 “Yet Sammy, nothing has happened yet.” He allowed himself to shut his eyes for a second, and the next thing that he knew, he was returned home. His speech must have worked on the employee of the show Supernatural, otherwise, Gabriel surely would not have returned them to their home world.

  “He’s gone, for chuck sake. How are we supposed to bring Jack and Mary back if we don’t have archangel grace?!” The stressed voice of their younger sibling often triggered a debate from the brothers, but seeing and hearing her, it was a miracle. They couldn’t waste time and argue, instead Sam lurched forward, grabbing the girl and bringing her into the embrace of his giant like arms.

“We’ll figure it out (Y/N/N), we always do.” He spoke softly, earning a confused yet pleased smile. The hug had come out of nowhere, but it calmed her nerves, the rushing of the blood that hurtled around the veins of her body slowed, and it gave her a moment of peace, a blank mind before she began researching again.

 “I have a question.” Dean stated with his gruff tone, squinting at his female sibling. He suppressed a smile, she was oblivious to the blockade that had rested above her head like a raincloud, but he knew that she was here for good. And that she was not leaving to any sort of afterlife any time soon. “Do you have the hots for Jack?”

 (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, however she forced a scoff to hide the shock and cover up anything that her brothers could pick up on. She released herself from Sam’s hold, taking a couple of simple steps backwards, so that she could have a clear view of the expressions that both of them wore. “Are you seriously asking me that at a time like this?” Her sentence was finished with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

 But her brothers knew their sister well enough, and that she indeed did not want to admit something to them. (Y/N) was much easier to read than (Y/A/N) was, they had known this growing woman since the day that she was born, the same day in which John rescued the shrieking baby from a mother that was fed and eaten by wolves. She would have been next, however the hunter saved her, as was in his job description, but he couldn’t bare to let her stream through the system.

 He felt an attachment to her, and looking at her was practically the same as the notion of peering at one of his boys. She was to be a Winchester, he hadn’t decided it, but God himself did. The universe worked in mysterious ways, it was as though it was all written out for the family, but this instant, none of them minded. It gave the boys another reason to fight, another person to love, and eventually another family member to lose.

 But it had been evaded this time, Gabriel had although not helped them with reaching their mother and the son of Kelly Kline, however, he had somewhat saved (Y/N) himself. Without his trickster interference, they’d have never known of her doomed fate, or have been able to fix it.

 “I’ll take that as a yes.” Dean was smug with being right, as he always was. Overall though, he was more pleased to know that they had stopped the crumbling of the bottom of the family tree, they had protected their sister, literally to the ends of the world.

 “Pick up a damn book and help me, I’m not doing all of this research by myself.” Another sign that he was indeed correct, changing the subject, how original. But neither of the brothers, more so Dean than Sam, even wanted to try and switch the mindset that (Y/N) had about the boy. They were allowed to have feelings, romantic and so on, and their sister appeared happy with the tether that was from her heart to Jack’s.

   The vampires were almost mutated. This apocalypse world had really taken a toll on all life. Michael of this plain had destroyed everything that was known to be true, even living itself. The habitat of these morsal creatures was dark, and disgusting. Humans had already tried to pass through the deadly lair to reach the other side, to get to the rebellion camp, however, no one had survived to the opposite end of things.

 (Y/N) felt hopeless, even as she walked through the home of the starving monsters. She had never been a fan of vampires, no hunter was, but this was cruel to every extent. They didn’t even appear as human anymore, their fates had been cursed by this ruined land. Without the world that was in her own, they would be worse off, everything in this dimension was.

 Everyone of their company was on edge, Dean ensured that he kept a sturdy eye forward, looking for any light. He knew (Y/N) would have to be okay, it was paved for her to be so in the other universe, she’d be fine. Of course, he still worried, that was what he did in retrospect, all day, every day, he worried that it was to be someone’s last.

 And he was right, as the monsters crept from the dark, tasting the scent of rushing blood in the air. They had lured them from their slumber, and they began to attack, dragging one of the travellers towards their death, where they would be fed on until he was completely drained. (Y/N) swung her machete, beheading one of the animals without a second glance, but perhaps she should have spared another look on the side, as she was a target.

 She was the prey to what she was raised to hunt, it wrapped its clawed hand around her leg like a coil, dragging her to the ground, and feasting its teeth into her supple flesh. This was it, there was no route away from her fate, and her body was already weak from blood loss, and so she gave up, and refused to fight. Her body was dragged into the abyss of the nest, and its members followed after her.

 Sam noticed their apparent glee, they had yet again prized food from them. He looked around to see whom it may be, and he was aghast with the sight. (Y/N) had her eyes shut as her limp form was being taken by vampires, and he froze, traumatised by the sight. And his surprised and hurt stature gave another of the beasts the perfect opportunity to rip into the rubber of his neck, and relish in the unstoppable river of blood that poured out from the fatal wound.

 “No!” Dean cried out, noticing that his sister too had disappeared. Before he could follow after the menaces and get vengeance, and possibly save his family from being the meal of savages, Castiel grasped his arm, pain rendering in the blueness of his vessel’s eyes.

 “They’re gone Dean.” His words rang through the hunter’s head. This was his worst nightmare. Gabriel’s warning had not helped at all, because (Y/N) was dead, and so was Sam. He forced himself to trudge on, pained like no other time before. Sam had died before, but he had always found a way to retrieve him back into life, and even through his tragic absence, he always had (Y/N). Now, the only other Winchester was his mother, who also needed to be saved from this damned world.

   “Think about it Sammy, Jack is going to be so pleased to see you alive, but your little sis, well, I’m sure that is going to be one hell of a reunion between them.” Lucifer smirked, he was in Nick’s body again, using it as a vessel. “And he’ll think of me as a saviour, a knight that saved his princess from a terrible fate.”

 The fallen archangel always had ulterior motives, and Sam realised that he had no choice in whether he’d rather remain dead, or be used as a bargaining chip by the devil himself. His interest in Jack was not exactly pure, it was clear to the man that he sought the backup, the power of his biological son. His intent was to creep into the boy’s mind, and decipher for the kid the difference between wrong and right.

 “That’s what you want, to lie to him about who you are?” He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised, even more so that the audience of vampires were seething to break free from Lucifer’s force. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, he should have been in the bunker, his grace feeding away at Rowena’s spell, and keeping the gate open for their return.

 “I’ll just bend the truth to fit the story, and I care about my son. As you care about your dear sister, and it would be a shame if she were not to wake, and then the news will have to be delivered to my boy, and I’m sure that would just break his half and half heart.” The celestial being, the epidemy of evil tutted at the thought, only to send Sam a mischievous smirk afterwards. “You don’t want him to be like me, but without her, he’ll be in so much pain that he won’t think about his actions. If he has (Y/N/N), then that choice will be entirely up to him, and what he believes in, yada yada yada.”

 The sight of his sister covered in her own blood, motionless on the ground, bite marks on her shoulders and elsewhere drew out a desperation in Sam. He couldn’t not allow the villain to bring her back to life, and it seemed that no matter what he disputed, that Lucifer would do it anyway, to get himself in Jack’s good books. And so he hung his head low, awaiting the personal enemy of his to resurrect the most important woman in his life.

 On first instinct, (Y/N) gasped in air. There was a lack of it rolling around the vitals of her lungs, but her breath was taken away once more, when she saw the looming of a horrifying figure, a first son of god. He was supposed to be, even if forced to do so by the traditions of magic, be at the bunker, revelling them with a way back. Rowena had been left there also, to keep the spell brewing, and a fearful eye on the hellish shadow.

 Assumingly, he had escaped his sentence, and for some reason, brought her to life. It was no mistake as to what the vampires had done to her, she could smell the spilling of her own blood over her thrifted and worn clothes, and it was gruesome. Although it was not the hunter’s first time in being a sponge to her injuries, but nevertheless, she fought to stand beside Sam, who steadied her shaken feet, and balanced out the rest of her body by looping his supportive arm around her waist.

 “Come on.” Lucifer rolled the human eyes that he wore like spectacles into the lives of the Winchesters, unimpressed by the slowness of the world’s large cockroaches. “We have places to be and sons to meet.” At his verbalised of clarity for his ungodly presence, (Y/N)’s body became rigid. His intent was to get to Jack, she couldn’t allow him to provoke a fire inside the boy.

 He was sweet and innocent, even harmless, despite the accident that had happened when he accompanied her and her brothers on a hunt. If Lucifer reached him, he would only try and navigate the darkness inside of him to be what it was, rather than try and make him change it into something brighter, something that was good, like Kelly would have wanted.

 “No.” (Y/N) refused, earning a frown from Sam and a elongated groan from Lucifer. She had died, it didn’t matter if she were to return to that fate, not if she stood by what she truly believed in. Nothing much would change, other than the vampires getting another meal from the same body, Dean already thought that she was extinguished from life, and the news would be passed on before any of them were to reach him.

 “Oh, for crying out loud!” The devil shook his wolfish head, Winchesters were always so stubborn. “I’d allow it if Sam were to stand against the gift of life, I’ve seen what is inside of his head after all, but you! You’re the priority here, you are Jack’s weakness.” This gesture of good faith seemed to be more than it was worth, but if she didn’t comply willingly, then he would force her to follow him along, and live.

 “Where’d you hear that from? He doesn’t have a weakness, he just has a good heart. I’m just another person that he lives with, a soldier that is going to fight anyone that dares to try and hurt him. And I won’t mind if I have to give my life to try and kill you.” She spat at the disgrace of heaven, hardly moved by his goal. As a Winchester, the stubbornness ran through her veins, even if the bloodline itself did not.

 “I hear things, and I did in that bunker. Like how Dean was speaking about you and Jackie boy, and how it all made sense. The shared looks, the flushed faces, all that gross stuff. He didn’t seem too happy with the circumstances, but he was content with the fact that you were alive, like you are again, because of me.”

Lucifer was the last person that (Y/N) would thank for her existence, but she realised that there was no way out of his trap, she was the bait for Jack, that would reel the boy into the wings of his dreaded father.

He could sometimes be so naive, that she feared that Jack would fall for the extension of kindness, one that hardly suited Lucifer. But that was up to him, and in this apocalyptic version of her world, anything could happen.

“She’s dead.” Dean’s voice was gravelly, it had been dragged through hope, and now the realisation that his baby brother and sister were lost to life. The eyes belonging to Jack widened, and tears began to form.

He could quite comprehend how he felt. There was a tearing in his chest, he felt as though he was being split apart, his breathing rapidly increased, and his eyes flared like the bursts of the sun.

Until whispers hit his ears, and he looked up, only to see the girl alive and well. He was not the only one relieved in the circumstances, Dean and Mary were too, but they feared the fact that Lucifer had joined them, and was being trailed by the bloodied siblings; the ones that he had saved for his selfish purposes.

[thatwaywardwolf]

I love this community, but some of you are going to be the death of me.

Hey, gang, I got a suggestion for all of us; pagans, occultists, witches, spellcraft workers, and so on. A totally wild idea, so brace yourselves for this.

How about...we stop offering spellcraft advice to people are in dangerous, potentially life threatening situations and do something productive that has faster results, like getting the person resources and genuine help instead of endangering them further?

Just a suggestion. I know, right? It's so crazy that it just might work. I'm so goddamn tired of how absolutely negligent some people in the community are and it's fucking wild to me. There's a difference between offering spellcraft and ritual advice to say, comfort someone through a breakup or deal with short term stress and doing the same thing when someone is in serious trouble. There's a damn time and a place for everything, but this isn't one of them. This is on the same levels of negligence as people who suggest crystals to treat medical conditions. It's treading into faith healing territory and it's absolutely ridiculous, and quite frankly, some of you should know better.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, I got a notification ping in a server I'm in that keeps us notified about pagan and occult related subreddits. Someone made a thread begging for help because they're in an abusive, toxic situation and are at their wits end because they feel trapped with no support. What are people in the thread doing? They're offering spellcraft advice instead of shit that can help OP right the fuck now.

I genuinely don't understand. I've tried for years, but this I can't wrap my head around. I've tried to get it with Christians praying away illnesses and I've tried to here with people pulling similar shit here. How do some people not see a problem here? You wouldn't offer someone spellcraft advice if they were stuck in a burning building, or at least I hope you wouldn't, so why here? I don't get it.

Also, let me make it abundantly clear that I'm all here for spellcraft and ritual as long as you aren't hurting other people, violating their consent, or using it as a substitute to treat serious problems and issues in your life. If you want to do a ritual to bring you luck with finding a new job or get into your dream school, fuck yeah, I support you. I'm all on board for you doing something similar to help a friend too as long as they give consent first. If you want do a hearth ritual in the hope that the gods, the land spirits, and your ancestors will bless and protect your home, I support you.

But this? Absolutely fucking not, especially when people are actively being harmed. I wish more people took this shit seriously or were at least more vocal about it. I'm fearful we're going to get to a point where someone gives a person in crisis bullshit advice and then that person gets hurt or worse. That's their blood and pain in our hands and then we're going to have to have a serious talk about when we, as a community, are going to know when to be hopeful and when to be realistic.

I'm fucking done. I made my peace and now I'm hoping the mods from that sub do something useful if they haven't stepped in yet. These last few weeks have been a stressful pain in the ass on my end and I didn't think I'd come back to the community being on a whole new level of disgraceful bullshit. Happy fuckin' Pride month, I guess.

Edit: Oh, boy. A mod actually replied to the thread a whole two damm hours late. I posted screen grabs in the post just after this if you want to see them.

Edit 2: Joy. I woke up to a notification that I got muted in the sub from talking to the mods for four weeks. I love that :)

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Unsaid Emily- Luke x Reader

Luke Patterson was one of the most genuine, funny, musical people you had ever met, except he was a ghost. His buddies and him were killed by tainted hotdogs in the ‘90s and now, now they were making their comeback in 2020 with the help of Julie and yourself.

When Luke left this world, he left his parents behind with an uncertainty of how their child lived in his final moments. They had been fighting at the time, so there had not been much communication between them for some time. They hated the direction their 17-year-old was heading, and instead of being understanding, they made Luke was feel trapped, like they were trying to change his greatest love in life, his band and more importantly his music.

You had been blissfully unaware of how much Luke was truly hurting until his birthday, which happened to be today because there he was sitting on his parent’s counter, hot tears running down his face. Your heart broke seeing him so upset, you never realized how much Luke was really hiding behind his façade. He was trying to make up for the life he never got to live, they never saw him play or get married, to grow old. He lived a life that was cut abruptly short, and he would never forgive himself for walking out that night.

The more Reggie and Alex talked about the past, the more you realized that Luke spent a lot of time at their house. Like he was trying to make new memories with his parents who could never see him in the way you do. In their eyes, he was gone but in yours he could never be more alive.

So here you were, waiting for Luke to return to garage. You asked Julie and the boys to let you talk to him alone, the bond you had was something special and you felt he would open up to you more. Focusing on the book in front of you, it felt like you had been waiting forever. You knew he it was his birthday so he would be gone for most of it, so you just had to play the waiting game.

No sooner did you finish the last page of your chapter, did Luke poof into the chair next to you. You could see that his eyes were puffy, and his face was red from all the crying. You knew he was hurting but you did not know how to even approach him. He seemed shocked to see you sitting there by yourself, usually you were off with Julie or the boys.

He shifted in his seat trying to hide his sniffles, “Hey Y/n, I wasn’t expecting you to be here”

“Well… I thought we could talk. I just noticed you’ve been kind of distant and I wanted to make sure you were okay” you said honestly, you truly just wanted to make sure he was okay, or more so check to make sure he would be okay eventually.

He just sighed at me, trying to avoid my statement, it was clear he didn’t want me to be involved with his pain. He would rather keep it to himself than burden someone else with his problems from beyond the grave.

“Luke, please. I just want to help…” you said again, trying to get him to open up. He couldn’t get this all pinned up inside of him, eventually he was going to explode, and it was going to be fatal for everyone involved.

He was avoiding your eyes, afraid of opening the flood gates and not being able to close them again, he had been crying for days and he didn’t want to cry in front of you.

“I really just don’t want to talk about it, please just drop it”

“Luke… I know… I know it is your birthday, I know where you have been all day… so please don’t lie to me” you said, sitting on the coffee table in front of his chair, you could see his eyes rolling.

“Seriously. You and Julie preach about boundaries and you stalked me. Really y/n?” He said, the anger clear in his voice, so you did the one thing you could think of. You reached out to him, and surprisingly your hand rested on his knee instead of going through him.

The look of shock mirroring on his face as he placed his large hand onto yours. It was a sense of comfort, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“Luke… I know I didn’t… I mean I know I shouldn’t have spied on you. But I am worried about you, I know it’s your birthday and you spent most of your day at yours parents. I can’t even begin to imagine how you are feeling, but I am here for you, every step of the way. I know it doesn’t mean much but- “Luke cut you off.

“It actually means more than you could ever know. I never talked to the boys about my parents, so it is nice to have someone who knows. My parents… when I left this world I left on bad terms. I was doing something that they didn’t want me to do. They wanted me to finish school, get married, basically have a life worth living. But I was so focused on my music and the band, that I walked out. I walked out and that is the last memory they have of me. I walked out that door and I never came home…” He was choking back his tears; you only gripped his hand tighter. You just wanted to take away this pain, so you just stood up wrapping your arms around him.

You could feel his tears on your shirt, you pulled back wiping more of them away with your thumbs. He caught your gaze, “Please… don’t tell the boys. I don’t need any more pity”

You felt a frown appear on your face, “Luke, I don’t pity you. I know how hard it is to lose someone, and I just want to be here for you. Did you ever show your parents your music, or write anything for them?”

He pulled away from you, so you just sat back down on the coffee table. “Whatever I wrote for them, it would never matter. My music was nothing to them, it was always the one thing that drove me away. They regretted buying me that guitar the moment I started playing. They lost me, and they will never forgive themselves no matter what.”

You couldn’t help but feel tears pool in your eyes as well, you wanted nothing more than to take back the past, to give your life for his, for a moment to make up with his parents.

“I wrote one song; it was for my mom. It was right after I ran away, and it was everything I didn’t know how to say to her. But now, she will never hear everything I wanted to say, she was so important, and I just left her there”

You processed his words, you knew exactly what song it was and tomorrow you were going to give that piece of art to his mom, and hopefully it would heal some of the open wounds in her heart. You hand already made up your mind about that.

*Next day*

You woke up early, before heading across town. You knew if you waited later in the day, that you would change your mind about this. You knew Luke would be mad, but you felt he needed this to heal, and so did his mom.

You quietly pulled into the Patterson’s driveway, trying to keep your nerves under wraps. You shut the car door and made your way up the drive. You were almost to the front door when Luke poofed in front of you. The look he gave you was not exactly good…

“What- why are you here??” he questioned; you could barely look into his eyes. You knew he would be angry when he found out your reasoning.

“I wanted to help- so I brought Unsaid Emily with me for your mom. I think she deserves to hear everything you couldn’t say to her. You can be mad at me, but I need to do this for you and for her” You said with confidence before rigging the doorbell, Luke just scowled at you. He was going to give you an earful later.

Moments later the door opened, and there stood a man. He was older from some of the pictures you had seen, but he was Luke’s dad, and you knew that.

“Hi, may I help you?” He spoke softly

“Yes, Hi. My name is Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n. My friend lives in the house where Sunset Curve used to practice, and I found something that you might want.” You said, feeling the hot tears pool in your eyes as you saw him suck in a deep breath.

He stepped aside letting you in, Luke followed in behind you.

You picked up a photo on the table, “Is this your son? Luke, right?”

He nodded before talking, “He was about 2-years-old in that photo. He was definitely a light in our life” A small smile fell onto your lips; he was the light of your life now. Even in death, he was the most perfect, and incredible person you had ever met.

Before you could speak again, you saw Luke’s mom come into the room, “Hi honey, did I hear the bell ring” she just offered you a small smile.

“Yes, this is Y/n and her friend lives in the house where the band used to rehearse. She brought something for us” He said to his wife, who looked at you with wide eyes.

“I assume you must be Emily?” You asked, sending Luke a look across the room. You could tell he was holding in a breath.

She nodded, before you continued, “I was cleaning out the garage and I found this song. It is called “Unsaid Emily”, I could happily sing it for you… if that’s okay?”

“Uh- could you maybe wait a moment, I have something you’ll need” Luke’s dad said, before retreating out of the room. He quickly returned with a guitar in hand.

“it was a birthday present for Luke, we never got to give it to him. It would be wonderful if you could play it for us… if you can play?” His dad said, handing you the fresh guitar. You caught Luke’s gaze across the room, he was in shock. He always thought they hated his music.

Taking a deep breath, you sat down in front of them with Luke’s lyrics in front of you. It took you a few minutes to tune the guitar before you began singing,

First things first

We start the scene in reverse

All of the lines rehearsed

Disappeared from my mind

When things got loud

One of us running out

I should have turned around

But I had too much pride

It was like as soon as the song started, it had come to an end. You could swear you could hear Luke still singing the song, like he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“You have no idea what you have given us…” Luke’s mom said, playing her hand on yours. You just grabbed it tightly.

“I can say, I write my music in the same place he did. It is a beautiful place full of happiness. I just thought you would want to know that. He lived doing the one thing he loved the most, and that inspires me everyday” You said, pushing the guitar back in their direction.

His dad just shook his head, “Keep it, I think Luke would want you to have it. And please, come back. It is great to hear his music inspired someone, especially someone so gifted”

You were shocked, this was an incredible gift, especially from Luke’s parents of all people.

“I could not thank you enough, I promise I will be back soon… I will try to find more things of Luke’s” you said, gently hugging his parents before heading out the door. You gripped the guitar close to your heart, it was an incredible gift.

You got in your car, and there was Luke. You could see the tear stains on his cheek, you intertwined your hand with his.

“I cannot thank you enough for what you just did… You gave them back a hope, a happiness in their life…” He said, choking back more tears.

“Luke, I did this for you… Don’t thank me. I just needed to do something… I wanted to bring you closure as well. You don’t know how much I care about you Luke.” You said, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand.

His head whipped in your direction, “Of course I do, your dork. I know how much you care because I feel the same way about you. This is definitely something interesting we have. And I may be dead, but I am not dumb.”

You just laughed at his remark, Luke was always going to be the one who held your heart. He was the one who made your world spin in ways no one has. Luke was your one in a million, and he was going to be that until the end of time.

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number. 

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide. 

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today. 

Shit, did billionaires even text? 

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead. 

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out? 

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding. 

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway. 

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused. 

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door. 

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building. 

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to. 

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside. 

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional. 

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words. 

~

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle. 

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good. 

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window. 

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress. 

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically. 

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly. 

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me. 

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on. 

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress. 

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs. 

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline. 

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself. 

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself. 

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine. 

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one. 

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right. 

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap. 

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up. 

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.” 

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.” 

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again? 

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something. 

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist. 

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room. 

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but... 

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair. 

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling. 

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat. 

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed. 

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground. 

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless. 

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead. 

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs. 

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff. 

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display. 

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly. 

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened. 

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask. 

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses. 

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone. 

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine. 

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway. 

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important. 

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture. 

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I? 

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place. 

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod. 

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look. 

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it. 

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago. 

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners. 

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

~

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem. 

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks. 

He’s all I fucking think about. 

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck. 

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him. 

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more. 

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically. 

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days. 

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals. 

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings. 

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars. 

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring. 

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him. 

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book. 

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible? 

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying. 

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.” 

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over. 

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me. 

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside. 

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything. 

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment. 

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping. 

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain. 

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away. 

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake. 

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.” 

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility. 

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface. 

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile. 

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side. 

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest. 

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago. 

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation. 

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me. 

She’s falling for me. 

Which, technically, is the plan. 

Technically, everything is going great. 

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her. 

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture. 

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself. 

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born. 

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily. 

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that. 

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold. 

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect. 

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care. 

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake. 

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send. Revenge, it seems, really is sweet. 

And I’m just getting started. 

___________________________________________

Part 4

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[papergirllife]

Down The Rabbit Hole

Xiao De Jun (M)

🎃Happy Halloween,everyone.🎃

*gif credits to owner

*masterlist is pinned at blog.

warnings : unprotected sex, high sex, choking.

Alice in distress,

may the Cheshire cat be blessed.

Community service your mom said, it’ll be great for publicity, which is all she cares about. Your mom is the part of the community of your neighborhood, and let’s just say she loves fulfilling her duties so much that it’s become an obsession of hers to be seen on the local papers for the activities she attend, something like a minor celebrity. Sadly, the moms here all love her, your mom wanted to work a reputation up, since your father left her for someone younger, your mother needed something else to fill the emptiness and lack of accomplishment she’s felt because of him. Hence why you’re trekking in the forest of your town, trying to pick up as much rubbish as you could that were thrown by irresponsible hikers.

“This is all you fault Y/N, if it weren’t for you, we won’t be stuck in this shitty hike in such a cold weather.”

Becca was part of the so called ‘friend group’ of this neighborhood of yours that your mom forced you to make friends with just because she was friends with her mom. You don’t bother answering her nor the deathly glares from her clique to you, you didn’t have any real friends in this town, other than one or two boys you played games with.

It was until the middle of the hike when your mom called for a break, the community members all started to sit down and have a picnic.

“Remember to clean up after yourselves,” your mom said.

You chewed on a sandwich you packed begrudgingly, wishing you had hot food instead, cursing at yourself for not packing food into a thermos. When you finished, you decided to venture further away on your own, unable to stand the not so silent whispers behind your back. You decided to sit underneath a sturdy looking oak tree that looked older than any other tree here. Once you leant back, your back started falling, for some reason, the stem of the tree opened up and swallowed you in, the hole you fell in closing as you fell deeper into the hole. You didn’t scream, you were too scared, you knew you would be dead once you hit ground, so you closed your eyes and waited.

Instead of hitting ground, you fell into something that felt softer than cotton, with a blue glow like the clouds on the sky. Were you dead? You looked around, you were still in the forest, but the forest looked different here. Were these the unexplored parts of the hill?

“How graceful, Alice has nothing on you, sweetheart.”

You screamed, trying to get out of the ‘cloud’, but all you could do was trash in it because of how it’s too soft and big.

“Easy, don’t panic. I’m right here.”

Suddenly, a man around your age appeared next to you, his smile bright and somewhat familiar looking. That’s when the memory came back to you.

“You’re just like the Cheshire cat in Wonderland. Where am I? And who are you?”

“You’re in the other side of the forest, or the whole world, depends on how you see your position geographically. I’m Xiao De Jun, but you can call me Xiao Jun, and I’m a fairy. Oh and another detail? I eat humans.”

“Wait what? What do you mean the other side? What do you mean fairies eat humans?”

“Well, let’s just say fairies aren’t all Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, those stories are told just to induce naive humans like you to fall in our traps. But you’re a pretty one, and you didn’t scream like a darned banshee just now, I might just keep you.”

“Keep me? Get us out of this thing, who said I was an object?!”

“I’ll get us out once we reach my palace, now hold on tight sweetheart, and please don’t scream like a mad woman, or I’ll eat you up in a gulp like the others.”

Xiao Jun booped your nose with his index finger before he leant back with an cynical smile on his face. The cloud floated up high, letting you see the scenery below you clearly. There were cities just like the human world, but instead of metal and blocks, these were held up by wood and magic, because there was no way a building as tall as the Eiffel Tower require no bolts and nuts, and you doubt its transparent like bubble had any glass panes.

"It’s beautiful.”

“It’s nothing compared to the beautiful lady beside me.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up at his flirty remarks. You quickly thought up of something to divert the topic, not being used to receiving compliments out of the blue.

“You said you have a palace? Are you a prince?”

“I’m a king, my father just passed away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Xiao Jun.”

“For a human you’re quite sentimental, cleaning the forest, not threatening to kill me even though you have a knife in your pocket, and not screaming at me like a mad woman. You’re quite different from what I expected.”

“What do you...

“That’s our stop, less chatter and get a move on, or no mint chocolate ice cream for you.”

Calling Xiao Jun weird would be an understatement, his personality was like a cross of between Marry Poppins and Willy Wonka, and his palace was nothing far from that either, fortress painted with pastel tones, and that fountain was definitely chocolate, the windows looked like panes of thin candy, while the draw bridge was shaped like a milk cracker. The swimming pool at the back looked like it was filled with different flavours of fanta.

“Are you the witch from Hansel and Gretel?”

“Do I look like an old hag?”

Instead of entering from the main entrance, the cloud took you to the back of the castle where there was a balcony which overlooked the pool and the garden. Once you landed, the cloud disappeared beneath you, but Xiao Jun’s quick reflexes caught you before you fell on your butt.

“Welcome to my chambers. I forgot to ask for your name sweetheart.”

“Y/N,” you said as breathlessly, still in shock from your near fall.

Xiao Jun’s room was huge, the walls were mint green while the furniture were all made of dark oak with gold accents, just like his favourite ice cream flavour. You looked up to see a beautiful chandelier that defied the laws of gravity. The candles as well as the whole structure of the chandelier was shaped like an overturned tiered cake, each tier turning at its own pace with different colours flickering on the candles. The bed was just like the cloud you travelled on, just bigger and in a shade of pastel pink that made it look like cotton candy.

“You must really like your sweets.”

“The only human food that actually tastes good. Make yourself comfortable, it’s not like you’re leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m keeping you.”

“You can’t do that! I don’t belong to you!”

“It’s written in the stars that you’ll be my queen, and I don’t have to force you. You’re going to stay.”

“Why would you know that?”

“Because I’ve been watching you and your fate in our stars, you lead an unhappy life in the mortal world, living like a balloon which lost its string, wandering aimlessly, slowly deflating just like your personality. When was the last time you truly enjoyed yourself without your mother giving you disapproving looks? What happened to your dream of being a writer? What happened when you said you wanted to go out for your birthday? What happened when you told her about your anxiety? Oh right, she called you a freak.”

Xiao Jun wasn’t shouting the words in your face, in fact it was gentle like an angel’s singing, yet what he said drizzled into your heart like sweet poison. You let out a chocked sob, you felt naked under his scrutinisation. Xiao Jun observed your life under a microscope, knowing you better than yourself.

“How do you know all of this?”

“I’ll show you.”

Xiao Jun wiped your tears with his expensive button up, the tears making the blue silk turn inky black. He then took your hand in his, guiding you out of his room into a room down the same hallway. Compared to the other odd looking fancy doors, this was bare of any jewels or gold. Xiao Jun turned the knob and led you in the dimly lit room, the room only had a large mirror with red candles on its sides.

“Show me, Lee Hyenji.”

That was your mother’s name.

The mirror flickered a few times before showing you the image of your mother.

“Where is that dumb girl? Always day dreaming and never getting things done. Wandering on her own, I’m just waiting for the day she leaves me like that useless father of hers.”

“Show me Becca Park.”

“I’m soo glad she’s lost, we don’t need to deal with her just to make our mothers happy anymore. She didn’t like hanging out with us anyways.”

Xiao Jun’s eyes flickered to yours to see your reaction, instead of holding sadness like he thought it would’ve been, your eyes were empty, the images on the mirror reflecting in your eyes like shadows in a murky lake.

“Why aren’t you angry?”

“Because they’re right.”

“No, they’re not. Mirror, show me Saved Memories.”

The mirror played images of you working on your short stories, snippets of you singing along your favourite song, as well as videos of you learning a dance.

“You shine like the brightest star in the galaxy sweetheart. Don’t let ducks call a swan ugly. They’re not even in your league, darling.”

“Am I?”

“You don’t need my confirmation, you can see it as well, maybe a flicker here and there, but those little flickers will grow into a  flame if you leave that life of yours. Don’t think too much about it, come, have a shower, I’ll show you to your room.”

Xiao Jun took you down the hall into your room, which was in front of his.

“I made it just like the bedroom in your world, so there shouldn’t be a problem with figuring out the shower. That laptop is yours, as well as those books, they’re the ones you already have and ones that you always wanted to read. The internet’s password is your birthday, yes we have internet access here. I painted the walls with the shade of blue you love, the bed is lilac, since you love that colour as well. There’s clothes from your own wardrobe as well as our clothes, it might be a bit fancy, but you might like it.”

Xiao Jun turned into such a sucker for you, the ‘I eat humans’ was such a front, you couldn’t help but smile at his dorkiness.

True to what Xiao Jun said, the shower was just like a regular shower, and the clothes in the wardrobe were nicely prepared to fit your size, making you wonder how he knew even these little details.

You went out and knocked on his door, Xiao Jun was out by the third knock, his hair now in yellow curls.

“What’s with the hair?”

“This is my natural hair colour, didn’t want to scare you too much just now. Though we really do eat humans, just the hearts, the hearts taste exquisite, according to the old fairies, and only if they threaten to develop that piece of forest. We used to eat humans all the time, until my father put a ban on it, didn’t want to look suspicious.”

There was a look of horror on your face.

“Trust me, only the old fairies eat humans, we prefer animals most times.”

You let out the breath of air you were holding in.

“This is my own private dining room, and tonight we would be having steak and ox tail soup, no humans.”

You manage to let out a laugh at his odd humour, starting to feel more at ease in his presence.

The two of you ate and drank wine, talking about his life as a royalty in his fairy kingdom.

“My mom told me I would have wings, I was so scared I checked my back every night before I slept, until I realised no one had wings and that it was just something made up in the tales.”

After dinner, the two of you danced ungracefully, the wine making your head light and footsteps a mess, giggling at each other’s mistake. After the two of you got tired, Xiao Jun carried you into his room.

He placed you on top of a couch, taking a seat beside you to admire the beautiful stars in the clear night sky.

“Would you like to try fairy dust?’

“It makes you fly? Like Peter Pan?”

“That is only one usage of fairy dust, we eat it as well. Wait let me show you.”

Xiao Jun took your hand and led you to his walk in wardrobe, it was just as big as the room he gave you, but what caught your attention was a mini pool, but instead of liquid, it was filled with swirling sparkling dust.

“Oh my god.”

Since you were drunk, you did the dumbest yet most logical thing ever, jumping into the pool. The dust made you bounce on an invisible force.

“Why am I not flying?”

“You have to give directions in your head, but I wouldn’t recommend doing that, I wouldn’t want to call medic when you hit your head.”

“Right...Jump in, join me!”

Xiao Jun shook his head in disbelief, but jumped in with a smile on his face regardless. Xiao Jun walked to your direction, stopping right in front of you.

“Breath it in.”

You did as he said, the fairy dust making you feel happy and free, as well as a warm feeling in your stomach that you can’t put your finger on once you look at Xiao Jun,, your eyes scanning his beautiful physique. Xiao Jun breathed in the dust after you, his eyes diluting into a darker shade of brown, his senses picking up little things about you that he didn’t before, like the plump of your lips, the curve of your hips under that tight skirt.

“Y/N, I want you.”

Xiao Jun kissed you with fervour, his tongue dipping into your welcoming mouth. Instead of pushing him away like he thought, you kissed him with just as much passion, your hands starting to linger under his shirt. Xiao Jun started to unbutton your top, throwing it out of the pool.

“No bra?”

“This isn’t the mortal world, there aren’t any sex predators here.”

“What about me?”

“This is for you, my king.”

Xiao Jun didn’t know whether this was you talking, or the fairy dust in your system. Xiao Jun marked up the length of your neck, purple flowers blooming in his wake as you started taking off his shirt and pants.

“Why the rush, love?”

“I need you, please.”

The amount of slick flowing onto your legs was too much to be normal, you didn’t know what side effects the dust has, but you just needed relief, and only Xiao Jun could give that to you. Xiao Jun took off your skirt and panties, smiling at that pretty piece of ruined silk in his hands.

“Wonderful.”

Xiao Jun let his hands travel southwards as his lips engulf your breast in his mouth, nibbling and sucking away like a new born, as well as leaving a mark near your nipple, the slight possessiveness sending shivers down your back. Your hands curl in Xiao Jun’s soft locks as he pushes a finger into you, when he could feel how wet you were, he decided to push two more in, curling his fingers at your sweet spot, making you cry out his name breathlessly. 

“Xiao Jun, more please. I need you inside me.”

You grinded onto his bare cock, his pre cum smearing over your slit, egging him to slide inside you.

Xiao Jun, pushed inside you in one go, your wet walls welcoming him. The action made both of you moaning in sync, lust filled relief washing over the both of you, making both of you crave for more. He started moving once you adjusted to his length, you could feel every vein and curve of his length as he bottoms out inside of you. Xiao Jun pushed himself closer to you, feeling you nipples against his own as he thrusted inside of you, the friction making your head spin from pleasure. Xiao Jun couldn’t believe it, after so many years of waiting, he finally had you in his arms, withering under his pleasurable touch. Xiao Jun slides a hand from your hips down to your clit, rubbing quick circles over it. Whimpers of his name fall from your lips like a beautiful piece of music, you were nearing your high as you felt the build up of an orgasm as your toes start to curl, your legs wrapped tighter around Xiao Jun’s waist as your head falls onto his shoulder, the overwhelming pleasure binding your body with his as he continues his thrusts, pace quickening once he felt you nearing the edge. Xiao Jun lifts you higher to thrust into you at a better angle, his tip hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, making you scream his name as your nails dug down his back, the pain mixing with the pleasure fuels Xiao Jun’s desire to absolutely ruin you under his touch.

“Cum for me, Y/N. I know you’re close.”

When you didn’t answer his request, Xiao Jun snapped his hips against yours at an even quicker pace, the speed of his thrusts inhuman, making your head swirl in pleasure as little bits of saliva drip from your lips down your throat as you throw you head back, the sight of the marks Xiao Jun left behind from earlier pushing his need for release. Once Xiao Jun wrapped a hand around your beautiful neck, you lost it. You couldn’t even scream as the pleasure was overwhelming all your senses, blinding white light behind your closed lids, your mind chanting his name like a mantra. Xiao Jun let out a beautiful moan once he felt your walls closing around his length in a vice grip, sending him over the edge as he paints your walls a milky white, his pearly white teeth biting down your shoulder to muffle his noises.

Once your orgasm subsides, you collapsed into Xiao Jun’s arms, energy drained completely by the handsome fairy. Xiao Jun carried you into his bed with the assistance of fairy dust, glad that he didn’t need to wobble into bed supporting your weight as well as his. He adjusted the pillows and blanket to accommodate your comfort, slipping in beside you once he was done, taking you into his warm embrace. Only one thought in his head.

‘You’re going to be with me for eternity, and nothing is going to take you away from me, my love, just like what the stars told me.’

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Seducing Suga - Part 2

⮱ Summary: You were happy to find out that Yoongi likes your rap skills, and your original plan involved him, but then the unexpected happened.

Back to 🌼 PART 1 🌼 ⇖

⮱ Words: 2k

⮱ Pairing(s): Yoongi x Reader, t i n y Jungkook x reader

⮱ Genre: Smut, Angst

⮱ Warnings: Cheating, graphic depictions of sex, swearing

                                _______________________

“I’m just moving forward, no matter what happens behind me,

Even with the tears running down my cheeks I, I, I am a survivor.” You finish recording the demo as the girl group looks at you with curious wide eyes. You weren’t just singing, you were crying. The leader of your girl group, Nadi, made sure to give you a tight squeeze before patting you on the back and sending you out. It was official, you were the biggest loser of an artist the company had produced.

You’ve been crying a lot lately, and everyone knows it’s because of your idol boyfriend. Because of certain obligations, you had to come clean about your relationship to Yoongi, so that your company could take measures to help you come up with a cover story. You weren’t in a good place with him at the moment, since you hadn’t texted each other in a little over a month and you expected him to text you first.

Your company had declared you their new solo artist and you just had to work on a collaboration with BTS. This one wouldn’t feature a rapper though, you were to record vocals with Jungkook and they wanted you both there to get a sense of your sounds together. Old fashioned producers prefer it that way. 

You know you’ll have to meet Yoongi, Namjoon, or Hoseok but most likely Yoongi since he was on the list of producers for the song. You already released your first album and you were planning on dropping two singles. The first one would be the finished version of “Survivor,” the song which you just recorded a demo for, and the second one will be the song you’re working on with Jungkook.

“There you are! The girls told me you were crying? Come on honey, look over the lyrics for your new song. Jungkook himself wrote it after sitting down for five minutes. This boy has a knack for writing about feelings.” Confused, you take the sheet of lyrics from her hand and you see them handwritten in cursive english. You could tell the song was meant to be sung in Korean but for whatever reason, Jungkook decided to translate them to English.

“If there’s a love that must be true,

That would be the love I have for you.

No matter what may pull us apart,

In the end you have my heart.

P.S I hope this collab makes you feel better, I know you’ve been hurting just as bad as my brother has been.” You sigh at the note, smiling and feeling my spirits lifted higher after reading Jungkook’s neat handwriting. You thought it was sweet that he still believed in old pen and paper as his main form of communication. Obviously, he has a phone and he could’ve texted you, but he opted for the letter.

You open up your phone and send him a picture of the paper. A few minutes later he replies back, and you talk more about the collab. Then you stop talking after he tells you he has to practice. It has been a while since you sat down and talked about your life with anyone. Normally you stay away from talking about work when it comes to Yoongi, but it’s so natural with Jungkook.

You decide to sit down and start writing. “Dear Jungkook,” You start.

Your POV

The day for our first collaborative project has arrived. After sending each other letters back and forth for the past month or so, me and Jungkook were joined at the hip. So much so that Jimin pulled me aside to tell me off about my closeness with Jungkook and how it was like I was forgetting about Yoongi.

“How is it any of your business, Jimin? Me and Jungkook are friends. If Yoongi thinks there’s something more, that’s his problem. Did you know that I was heartbroken after he decided not to text me after telling me he needed a break? We haven’t even talked to each other since then. Things aren’t the same between us. I didn’t realize how much I had in common with Jungkook until after that happened. So in a way, I’m glad that me and Yoongi are no more,” As soon as I say those words, Yoongi steps out of the shadows. “Gah! Where did you come from?”

“I was having my coffee in the other room. I heard about what you said. It sounds like you and Jungkook really hit it off. I’m happy for you, really,” He sets down his mug on a coaster nearby. “So that’s why I wanted to tell you that we should break up.” I feel a pang of sadness inside but it’s nothing compared to the immense longing in my heart I have for Jungkook. The positive feelings took over the negative ones, and for the environment and mood in the studio to be good, I needed to concentrate on that.

“Okay. I agree with you. Shall we start?” I ask him as an artist would to a producer, and he nods, sitting down with a blank look on his face. This time, it really does look blank. I can’t read him as well as I used to, I suppose.

Me and Jungkook ended up spending four hours together, and after a lot of time holed up in the studio, we were a lot closer than before. Enough for him to kiss me during our 30 minute break. I returned the kiss gingerly, savoring the taste of his strawberry lip balm. This boy smells and tastes good.

“Will you please go on a date with me?” He asks after recovering from the long-winded kiss.

“Yes.” I smile in response, happy to jump back into recording with Jungkook. We even filmed a Bangtan Bomb, and it was so obvious that there was a spark between us. But the closer I got to Jungkook, the more gloomier Yoongi got. 

“And it’s time for Yoongi to hop in the booth with you. It’s the rap verse.”  I check the paper quickly, noticing that Jungkook hadn’t written a prior note about Yoongi.

“There’s a rap verse?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yeah, I added it after hearing you guys together. It didn’t sound like enough…” He dissed my singing skills right in front of me! We sit through two grueling hours of that before we’re dismissed for the day.

I grab Yoongi’s collar and I drag him towards the janitor’s closet. “How romantic. Isn’t it sweet that we have candles already here to set the mood?” I raise an eyebrow, pinning him against the wall.

“Shut up. I just wanted to be happy and I was starting to really like Jungkook. Why do you always have to ruin everything?” Seeing his blank expression soften, my heart started to race. What’s wrong with me now?

“Your lips say one thing, but your eyes say another,” He shushes me as he suddenly has me pinned to the wall, reversing our predicament so that I was in his trap again. “Maybe we should see what your body says.” Before he puts a hand on me, I stop him.

“Yoongi…” He stops midway, making sure he has my full consent before proceeding. “...Kiss me.”

We start off slow, with kisses so fiery they could melt my heart into a puddle. Yet my heart was encased again, as my body was telling me to act on impulse. The lust takes over each of us, pushing us into the wall-literally, as Yoongi’s tongue slipped into my mouth and I parted my lips so that he didn’t have to force his way in. Our tongues danced together as our lips collided in a sad, forbidden way, and we pulled apart for air after the anticipation had died down.

“You didn’t think we were stopping just there, did you?” I feel his hand circle my thigh and I warm heat shoots up my core. 

“I don’t know. Depends on what you want.” He lets his hands linger for a bit, groping me in ways that should make me feel dirty but instead I feel excited. The thrill of the moment makes me feel good.

We kiss again as he pulls off his shirt and I lose my own, our bodies filled with lust for only each other again. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time.

“Shit, I’m hard. You feel that? You make me so hard, princess.” I roll my eyes at the cliche line.

“Don’t call me “princess.” I ain’t royalty. Call me by my name, kitty cat.” I allude to his nicknames from the fanbase, mostly cat-based since he resembles a cat with how tired he is whenever a camera is in his face. Little do they know that behind the scenes, Yoongi is a hard worker and that is why he is tired all the time. He barely had time for me when I was his girlfriend.

“Don’t call me kitty cat. It’s bad enough I gotta deal with crazies on a daily basis who baby me and call me lil meow meow.” I suck in a deep breath when he drops to his knees, his fingers hooking on the sides of my panties before he pulls them down. I shudder at the feeling of the cool air hitting my sensitive region at first, and I practically melt when Yoongi puts his lips on me.

I groan and buck my hips as he savors my juices, making me climax with just his lips and tongue. He smirks, burying his head further between my legs as I smother him with my clit, stroking his smooth tufts of grey locks as he kisses me to my orgasm.

“Yoongi, Oh it feels too good. Fuck yes.” I moan as he drives me over the edge, slapping my clit with his fingers before lapping up my juices. 

“That felt good, didn’t it sweetheart?” I nod, unable to speak as the aftershocks of my orgasm leave me unable to stand straight for a minute. He helps me up, lifting me to my feet since my legs forgot how to function from the crazy orgasm that Yoongi administered. “Well you’re in for a treat. Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work. Now, sit back and relax.” I nod as he makes me sit with my legs wide open in a chair and he strips down completely so that I have a great view of his giant dick and cute butt. “I’m gonna fuck you now, is that okay?” He asks as I gulp, feeling thirsty as he lowers his cock into me slowly.

“That hurts.” I groan, earning an apology from him before he turned me around and unclasped my bra so that I was fully naked as well.

“Shit, such a nice ass.” He spanks me as I bounce on his dick, moving involuntarily since he was the one slamming into me in the first place. I feel his warm hands on my ass, taking in the pleasurable feeling of his cock sliding into me with ease, as he was hard and dripping. I realize somewhere in the middle of riding his dick that we forgot to use protection.

“Yoongi, are you cumming yet?” He shakes his head, his pale cheeks flushed red as sweat drips down his forehead and our bodies cling together from the extra sweat. He looks a bit more exhausted than usual, but that’s probably because he was tasked with fucking my brains out for over an hour now.

“Shit, I’m close now. Y/N, hold me.” 

“But I-” He kisses my neck, holding my hips in place as I attempt to bounce off his lap, and before I can say anything his hot white semen has painted my inner walls. Cream drips down my inner thighs, leaking onto his stomach as I pop off his dick with an evident look of fear on my face.

“That was amazing, babe. I haven’t cum like that since—”

“I’m not on birth control, Yoongi,” And with those words he freezes, his look of pleasure replaced with fear. “That’s not all. I just cheated on Jungkook. Oh my god.” I feel my heart beating out of my chest, blood rushing to my head all at once before I pass out.

[thetravelerwrites]

DuMont (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Elf Ranger/Male Tiefling Barbarian Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, Kobold, Half Elf, Human, Rogue, Bard, Barbarian, Ranger, Mage, Wizard, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Sex, Third Person Perspective Words: 3839

Kharis seems dissatisfied with DuMont's... performance, so DuMont intends to ask for advice from Rupert. Things don’t go as planned. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Why do you do that?” Kharis asked as she and DuMont lay in their bed of straw and furs together.

They were sheltering in a run down barn on the outskirts of the nearest town. Rupert, Sanoh, and Norman were at an inn, but DuMont was too large to fit through most doors. Kharis decided to stay with DuMont instead of enjoying the comforts of the inn, which usually meant she was feeling frisky.

“Do what?” DuMont asked, looking over at her in confusion.

She sighed. “Ask me if I’m okay every time I make a noise when we have sex? And you’re always so gentle, like I’m made of glass and you’re scared you’re going to hurt me.”

“I am scared of that,” He replied, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her. “I could injure you very easily if I’m not careful. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kharis sighed discontentedly and reached up to scratch his chest absentmindedly. “It’s not that I don’t like the gentleness. It’s sweet. But I wish you would lose control sometimes, take charge, be spontaneous. Just grab me and fuck me senseless without even saying anything. I’m always the one who tells you what to do, and trust me I love giving orders, but I’d love it if you told me to just shut up and suck your dick once in a while.”

DuMont grimaced. “I don’t think I’d feel right, saying something like that.”

“That’s kind of my point, darling,” She said, sitting up with a slight chuckle. “You’re too pure for your own good sometimes. It’s growing up in that church that did it, it must be. What did that caretaker of yours tell you about sex?”

“That it was mostly a trap set by women to steal a man’s money. He was rather bitter about some woman in his past, I think, though he never talked about it.”

Kharis snorted. “That tracks. Look, it’s not like I want you to treat me badly or be cruel to me. It’s not about being gross or vulgar or wanting to hurt me, it’s about being aggressive, feral, demanding. Using my body to get what you want. When that’s done the right way, it’s so sexy. And I’m giving you consent to do it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But I don’t know how to do that without hurting you,” He said, mildly frustrated.

Kharis sighed again. “I know, angel. It’s alright, don’t worry yourself too much over it. We’ll figure it out.” She rolled into him and snuggled against his body. “Get some sleep. We need to be up and moving before dawn. Love you.”

“Love you,” DuMont echoed, curling his body around hers and making sure she was as warm as he could make her.

Kharis fell asleep pretty quickly, but DuMont was unable to fall asleep for some time. He replayed the conversation with Kharis over and over in his mind, trying to parse what it was she wanted. Did she really want him to hurt her or be violent with her? That couldn’t be right. When he was violent, he killed people. He didn’t even mean to kill people sometimes, it just happened. He was still trying to gauge his strength and he often failed. How could he be forceful with her and not end up injuring her, or even killing her?

Maybe he could ask Rupert or Norman. Rupert and Sanoh were… very active… almost as active as he and Kharis were, but they both had more experience than he did. Norman was known to hire companions frequently, so he had different partners often. Norman and Rupert might be able to help.

The next day, the five of them came upon something that they hadn’t encountered in their travels: a proper bathhouse. It was lavish and resplendent and wildly out of place in this little town.

“Oh! Look!” Kharis said, pointing excitedly. “Look how big the doors are! DuMont, you’ll fit! We should splurge a little! We made a ton of gold from our last job and I haven’t had a bath that wasn’t in a cold pond in ages. Please, let’s go!”

“I’m totally down for this,” Sanoh said. “My scales have been so dry and itchy. I think I’m getting ready to molt.” She grimaced and scratched at her arm, which did look a bit flaky. “I hate molting. I’m out of commission for a solid week. It’s such an inconvenience.”

“How often do you molt?” Norman asked.

“Once a year. The good news is, once I’m done we can sell the skin for a good price. People grind it up and use it as a wound paste.”

“That’s actually fascinating,” Rupert said. “I wonder what magical properties your sheds might have.”

“Yeah, that’s great and totally not gross at all, are we doing this or what?” Kharis said impatiently.

“Sure, sure,” Norman said. “As long as we’re not spending all our money, it’s fine.”

The four of them started forward toward the building, but DuMont hesitated. Kharis doubled back.

“You okay, big guy?” She asked, patting his arm.

“Are you sure you want me to come in with you?” He asked apprehensively.

“Of course!” Kharis said. “Have you ever had a proper bath before?”

“I don’t think so,” He said.

“Then this could be an opportunity for you. Come get pampered with us. It’s fun.”

DuMont groused uncertainly, but he allowed Kharis to drag him into the bathhouse.

DuMont felt very out of place inside the pastel walls of the parlor, looking around at the delicate figurines and statues with discomfort and attempting to make himself smaller. The hostess, an elven woman, looked at him warily but greeted them all brightly.

“Welcome to the Rushing Waters Baths. Will you be needing separate rooms or a communal room this evening? The separate rooms are more private, but also more expensive.”

“One for the boys and one for the girls?” Rupert asked.

“Sounds good to me,” Kharis said. “Do you have one big enough for my sweetheart here?” She patted DuMont’s arm.

The elven woman looked him up and down appraisingly. “Unfortunately, I think the only bath that will fit him is the public bath. However, we have no other customers at the moment, so he will have it to himself.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Kharis said. “You’ll get to stretch your legs and soak for a while.”

DuMont grunted. “Thank you,” He said, addressing the hostess. His deep, low voice rattled the shelves slightly.

“We also offer laundering services,” The hostess said. “Simply leave your clothing on the shelves at the exterior of the bathing rooms and a silver for the service.”

DuMont looked down at himself and the simple loincloth he wore for modesty’s sake. He also donned a simple coat that Kharis had fashioned for him out of some large drapes for when it started getting cold. She wasn’t a great seamstress and the coat was a little haphazard and slapdash, but DuMont had treasured the gift and rarely took it off.

He had money now for the first time in his life, but there wasn’t many places that made clothing in his size. He could commission something, he supposed, but considering how often he ended up covered with dirt and blood, there wasn’t much point.

“You will need to leave your�� weapons,” She glanced at the massive church bell tied to a post that DuMont used as a bludgeon. “At the door, of course. They will also be cleaned.”

“This is a strange place to be in the middle of such a small town,” Norman said.

“We’re a resort town, actually,” The hostess replied in a chipper tone that made Kharis roll her eyes.

“A what?” DuMont asked.

“It’s a town rich people build so they can pretend to be simple country folk while looking down their noses at them at the same time,” Kharis said in an undertone. The hostess frowned at her.

“How much for two private rooms and the public bath?” Sanoh asked, redirecting the hostess’s attention.

“The public bath is only two copper, and another copper for soap,” The hostess replied, still eyed Kharis while disfavor. “For two private baths, it’s six silver. Soap and towels are provided.”

“Do you provide companionship?” Norman asked.

“Wait until we get to the inn, Norm!” Rupert said. “I don’t want to be in the room with you when you have your fun!”

“Prude,” Norman sniffed.

“We actually own the inn, as well,” The hostess said. “You can book your rooms and companionship here for later, if you’d like.”

“Good, let’s do that,” Norman said.

It took a few minutes for them to iron out all the details while DuMont stood in the back awkwardly. He then waited while his friends were led to their own bathing rooms.

Before he could be taken to the public bath, he asked the hostess, “Could I visit my friends’ room? I’d like to ask their advice privately.”

“Of course,” The hostess said. “Right this way.”

She led him to one of the rooms, in which there was a flowery perfume smell. Steam emanated from under the door.

“They are undressing in the side room,” The hostess said. “You are free to wait for them.”

“Thank you, miss,” He replied. She nodded and excused herself.

DuMont stepped in and lowered his massive body into a squat-sit position, waiting patiently. The door opened after a moment, and to his dismay, a very naked Sanoh walked through. DuMont slapped his hands over his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed. “The hostess must have brought me to the wrong room! I meant to go to the mens’ bath!”

Sanoh laughed. “It’s okay, big guy!” He heard the sound of her slipping into the water. “Feeling a bit lonely? Did you want to bath with the guys?”

“No,” He replied, still covering his eyes. “Well, yes, but no. I wanted to ask their advice about something.”

“Oh?” She said, her voice piqued with interest. “Maybe I can help. What’s the problem?”

“Oh…” DuMont hesitated. “Well… It’s private.”

“It’s about Kharis?” Sanoh hazarded.

“Yes,” He responded.

“Is it about sex?” Sanoh said shrewdly.

“Yes,” He said, almost dropping his hands in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Because Kharis and I talk, sweetie,” She replied. “Look, you can lower your hands. I’m not all that shy, honey; ask Rupert. Besides, if you want to know what a woman wants during sex, you shouldn’t ask a man. Why don’t you get in and sit with me and we can talk. Kharis is getting a drink, so she’ll be a few minutes.”

DuMont slowly lowered his hands and was relieved to see that Sanoh had sunk beneath the bath, which seemed to have a cloudy, pleasant smelling mixture in it that obscured most of her body. He carefully stood up and climbed into the bath, raising the level of the water by at least a foot. He took great care not to crowd her, looking much like an oversized dog crouching in a box too small for him.

“Alright, so what’s the issue?” She asked.

“Kharis wants me to be more aggressive,” DuMont said, hanging his head. “But I’m worried that I might hurt her.”

“I see,” Sanoh said, leaning forward a little. “I mean, I like a little bit of pain during sex, but I imagine it would be difficult for you, considering your size and strength.”

“That’s what worries me,” He replied anxiously.

“Well, there are plenty of ways of being assertive without hurting anyone,” Sanoh replied. “What about just ripping her clothes off the next time you feel frisky? Ooh, with your teeth! That would be hot.”

“But wouldn’t I make her mad if I ruin her clothes?” DuMont asked, cocking his head.

Sanoh shook her head. “Trust me, do it right, and she’ll be putty in your hands. Besides, we’re flush with cash right now. Kharis can buy new clothes. Kharis is also a little bit of an exhibitionist, so she’d probably like some public sex.”

DuMont balked at this idea. “That’s indecent! And also illegal, as far as I know!”

“I don’t mean do it out in the open! Although, knowing Kharis, she would probably love that,” Sanoh muttered thoughtfully. “No, no, somewhere public adjacent, like a rooftop or just beyond a tree line, somewhere you have the potential to be caught.”

DuMont frowned uncertainly. “Alright. What else could I do?”

“You could snarl at her when the two of you are getting in the mood. Some women really love that primal, feral energy. Love bites could be good, too. I do love it when Rupert puts his teeth to my scales.”

“But…” DuMont ran a finger over his exposed fangs. “I don’t know if I could do that. What if I actually bit her?”

“Drawing a little bit of blood might be alright, just don’t go very deep.”

DuMont grimaced uncertainly, but didn’t say anything.

“Honestly, honey, I think you’re really overthinking things. You’re just a big sweetie pie! I don’t think you could hurt Kharis, even if you tried to.”

“That’s patently incorrect,” DuMont protested.

“Just try it, big guy,” Sanoh insisted. “It’s called experimenting for a reason. If it doesn’t work out, then you don’t have to do it again.”

“I suppose,” DuMont replied slowly.

“Either way, Kharis should be here soon, and you should go take your bath. First rule of being a freelance mercenary: never let something you paid money for go to waste.”

With some difficulty, he climbed out of Sanoh’s bath and headed back for the public bath. It was fairly large; he was able to stretch out, still clothed, and soak his whole body with relative ease. He swam around the bath a little, using the soap Kharis had bought for him to wash his body and clothes.

In the warm water, he mulled over the suggestions Sanoh had given him. Feral, huh? Like… maybe hunting? The only time he really let loose is when he was hunting, though his intent was usually to kill. Perhaps he could modify it and turn it into a game? Would Kharis like that? He could try it.

After only ten minutes, he rinsed himself and got out of the bath, sloshing water all over the floor and walked dripping back out into the foyer, the hostess glaring at him as he exited the bathhouse. Should he try now? It certainly would be unexpected. He wanted to be more spontaneous, like Kharis suggested, and take her by surprise. She might like that.

Hide. He needed to hide. There was a grove of trees near the bathhouse, an orchard likely belonging to the inn. The trees weren’t especially dense, but the sun was setting and it would be easy enough to hide in the dark.

It was over an hour before Kharis came out of the bathhouse. She was alone, thankfully, and looking around with concern, likely for him. It was understandable; DuMont usually stuck close to Kharis in unfamiliar places.

“DuMont?” She called. “Where’d you go?”

DuMont purposefully snapped a twig, catching Kharis’s attention. She spun around and looked into the orchard, squinting, and moved away from the lantern light.

“Is that you?” She asked as she walked forward.

DuMont let a low, quiet, guttural snarl issue from his throat, shifting his weight carefully. Kharis’s brow furrowed and she laid a hand on the hilt of her short sword. DuMont moved forward slowly, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had to admit, this was kind of fun.

“Show yourself!” She said. “I’m armed!”

DuMont snarled again, a little louder this time. Kharis started backing away, beginning to draw her weapon.

Now.

DuMont rushed out of the shadows of the orchard, snatching Kharis by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder, making her squeak in surprise, and began to scale the tall bathhouse building, digging his claws into the stone.

“DuMont!” She shrieked, smacking his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

DuMont didn’t answer, just continued to climb the wall up toward the roof. As he pulled himself up, he dropped her unceremoniously, pulling rope from his waist pack. Kharis watched in confusion as he tied her hands up, behind, and down to her legs.

“DuMont, what are you doing?” She asked, a slight smile on her face.

“Taking your advice,” He replied, a deep growl to his words.

Her eyebrows raised, intrigued. “Well, I’m glad, but how are you going to get my clothes off if I’m tied up like this?”

He took hold of her tunic with his hands and ripped it open down the front, exposing her breasts to the air. Her skin smelled of the rose and cardamom soap she had used.

“Oh,” Kharis said. “Well, then.”

He put her on the ground and sniffed down her body, growling low like an animal stalking prey. She bit her lip and squirmed a little. DuMont pressed his nose in between her legs and took a deep breath before taking the fabric in his teeth and ripping it, tearing a ragged hole

“Oh, fuck,” He rasped. “That’s so fucking hot.”

His tongue came out and licked a large swipe up and down, and she strained against the ropes, squealing. She was swollen and pulsing against his tongue, and he could tell she was enjoying herself.

With one hand, he picked her up and carried her to the ledge, where there was a large decorative gargoyle looking down over the courtyard. He placed her face down on top of it, so that she could see the courtyard. The way the light was directed by the lanterns, she could see down, but people couldn’t see her. Probably.

Holding her down with his hand, he plunged his tongue inside her and contracted it over and over, in and out, up and down. She moaned loudly, and DuMont answered with a snarl. The entire lower half of her body was inside his jaws, and while he knew he wouldn’t hurt her, he had to admit that the hint of danger was thrilling.

Her hips moved in time with his strokes until she lay her face down against the stone and just whimpered in pleasure. Before she could recover, he withdrew his jaws and lined himself up with her entrance, thrusting in hard.

She howled, making as much noise as she could, reveling in the feeling of him inside of her and the idea of being overheard by anyone down below. She’d always loved the idea of being almost caught.

She began to quiet down to a faint whimpering, and the interior of her body flexed and contracted as she climaxed around his cock. He slowed to let her draw out the orgasm, and then sped up again, thrusting so hard that her body rocked to and fro on the back of the gargoyle. He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and pulled her up against him, holding her in the air and pumping into her, moving her on him, using her body as she told him to. He granted her, it did feel amazing.

Her head was thrust back and she grunted with her teeth clenched, her eyes closed. Her face was flushed, a vein bulging in her neck, and she was sweating all down her body.

“Are you--” He began, but she opened her eyes and snarled, “Don’t you fucking dare ask if I’m okay,” and he shut his mouth.

He thrust and thrust vigorously, with more force than he normally used, until her body went completely stiff and she was gasping for air, then went limp in his arms. He slowed his movement to a crawl, giving her a moment to recover, before driving himself back in again, full-speed, not giving her a chance to regain speech. She strained against her restraints, not as though she wanted to be free of them, but in a manner that suggested she was trying to contract and stretch with pleasure, the muscles in her stomach and legs rigid and hard. Her face was red with exertion and sweat poured off her body.

“Cum,” She grunted at him. “Cum for me. Do it.”

He snapped his hips against hers faster still, the rise of ecstasy building in him quickly, and he roared as he released inside her. He had to be careful not to drop her as he felt himself pop finally, gushing and shooting into her. As such, he did manage to lay her down before collapsing. As exhausted as he was, he used his claws to snap the ropes free and let her body completely relax under him.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked breathlessly.

“Shush,” She replied faintly. “Let me bask in the afterfuck.”

They lay there together on the cool bricks of the roof, the evening air blowing lazily over their flushed, overheated skin.

Eventually, Kharis pushed on DuMont’s shoulder and he rolled off and lay next to her. She sighed contentedly.

“Yes, to answer your question,” She said. “That was undoubtedly the best lay I have ever had in my life. I didn’t think you had that in you, but I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“I wasn’t too rough?” He asked.

“No, not at all,” She said. “It was perfect. Just what I needed.” She rolled on her side and looked up at him. “You weren’t uncomfortable with doing it, were you?”

“No,” He replied. “I was uncertain I was doing what you wanted and worried I was hurting you. Did I?”

She shook her head. “I think if you had gone any harder than you did, you might’ve, but it was great.”

“Good,” He said, satisfied. “The hunting and stalking part was really fun, I enjoyed that very much.”

She laughed. “You startled me, certainly, but it was fun. Next time we’re camping in the woods, we should have ourselves a nice game of hide and seek.”

“I would like that,” He said.

“Well,” She said, hopping to her feet. “I’m starting to get cold, and my clothes are…” She looked over at the shreds of her tunic and trousers. “Well, unwearable. Can you give me a lift down to the ground?”

“But you’re naked.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got spares in my bag downstairs.”

“But you’re naked.”

She snorted. “It’s not the first time I’ve walked nude through an inn before and it likely won’t be the last. Just get me down.”

He obliged, lifting her onto his back and scaling back down the wall. Kharis drew a lot of stares as she made her way through the common area of the inn. Like normal, DuMont was too large to get into the inn, but he watched Kharis from the door to make sure she didn’t run into trouble.

Norman, Sanoh, and Rupert were sitting and drinking, staring at Kharis as she strode through the room, though Sanoh caught sight of DuMont at the door and smirked, winking at him.

If he ever needed advice in the future, he definitely knew who to ask.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 1

Word Count: 2,683

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language

Notes: Ok so here is basically our introduction to the Bubble Wrapped story. I have no timeline for this thing or even if it will continue, you guys let me know. As a background, this story will be about life inside Hotel X. In case you don’t know the teams inside Hotel X are the Bruins, Capitals, Flyers, Penguins and Lightning. So here we go, Happy Reading!

You'd been shocked when Hotel X had been picked as one of the hotels for the NHL to stay at when they resumed play in Toronto. Even more so when you were asked if you would take over the management of the place over the next several weeks. "Listen (Y/N) we know we are asking a lot. You'll have to live at the hotel with all the players as the NHL is really trying to keep everyone in this little bubble."

 "I understand. I've already talked to Carly about putting different measures in place when the Maple Leafs came to us before submitting their proposal." Carly was another member of the hotel staff, that served as one of their concierges. She knew the ins and outs of the city and could get tickets or dinner reservations on the drop of a dime. That was all before COVID though. Now, some restaurants were still closed and shows hadn't resumed yet. What once was a bustling city, had come to a dead stop over the last several months, though things were starting to get back to normal; well the new normal that is.

 "So we heard." You hoped the blush that crept up your cheeks couldn't be seen on the zoom call as that had become their new form of communication with you. "You've dealt with the players before, we know you can handle it. Though this time it'll be completely different with five or six teams staying there." Most of the players had always been super nice to the staff, though there were a few that could be demanding at times. You prayed they'd all push their egos aside, at least while in the hotel, though somehow you doubted that. "I think you're familiar with the NHL's protocol on their reopening, but we'll email you everything once we get it. Start putting together the staff that you want. Just some core people that you'll need."

 "I've got the right people in mind, don't worry."

 The call went for a bit longer going over specifics. The only benefit out of the whole thing was that they were giving you the Presidential Suite to stay in. Honestly, it was the least they could do; you thought. Of course, the called ending with them saying, "Don't let us down."

 As soon as it ended you called Carly making sure she was on board. "I'm just saying Car that many hockey players in the hotel; the testosterone is going to be flying around."

 "So what you're telling me is you've already packed an extra-large box of condoms."

 "Carly!" You shouted at your friend. "That's not what I was saying at all."

 "Come on (Y/N), I know you're one of Seguin's regulars when he's in Toronto."

 "I'm one of them because I can keep my mouth shut." It was true that when Tyler was in town during the summer or on a road trip the two of you always hooked up. Sort of a no strings attached relationship, though you did talk from time to time. "Besides he's not even going to be in Toronto. He's in the Edmonton bubble."

 "Oh, I didn't realize." Carly despite being from Canada was not a hockey lover, though she did appreciate the men who played the sport. "Well, maybe you should call him and get the scoop. You know find out who we need to be aware of."

 It wasn't a bad idea, not that you were going to ask him who to sleep with, but maybe it would help get a handle on who was going to be problematic, as there was no way you wanted to let the owners of the hotel down. You had a lot riding on this and after all, you couldn't put bitter rivals in one hotel and not expect some drama. "You're right. I am going to call him."

 "Ooo good, let me know what he says and if we should get more than one box of those condoms."

 You shook your head at your friend before hanging up and dialing Tyler's number. "Hey beautiful, long time no talk," Tyler said and you could almost hear the smile in his voice.

 "Hey Ty, how's quarantine life going?"

 "Ugh, don't get me started. I was not meant to be locked in my house without hockey for this long." Tyler wasn't meant to stay put anywhere too long, including relationships.

 "Well, hockey's almost back so there's that."

 "Yeah, I'm pumped about it, though I wish I was staying in Toronto instead. I know some fun that we could get up to since I have to stay in the bubble." He paused and you could clearly tell he was running different sex scenarios in his head. "I'm assuming your working at the hotel."

 "Yeah, it's kind of why I called. I'm one of the ones trapped in the bubble with you guys."

 Tyler groaned. "So, you called to ask me who you should hook up with? Cause babe, I'm not sure I'm willing to share you like that."

 "Shut up Ty, you know we're not like that. You couldn't stay faithful to one woman if you tried." Part of the reason the two of you got along so good, was the fact that you called him out on his bullshit.

 "I might if I could drag you with me everywhere." You giggled at the insinuation of being taken everywhere just so you could keep him satisfied. "You're definitely gifted with many talents (Y/N)."

 "You're not so bad yourself, but we're getting away from why I called."

 "You mean you didn't call to have phone sex with me," and you could hear his pout.

 "No, I didn't call for that. I was just curious if you had any idea who was going to give me problems while we're in this so-called bubble. I'm trying to be preemptive here."

 "Ok, but if I give you some information you at least have to promise to send me a pic of your tits." You mentally rolled your eyes at him; the boy was a horndog.

 "Fine, now spill some tea."

 "Spill some tea, what is this a gossip blog or something."

 "You're avoiding the question Ty, and I'm putting on a sweatshirt." He groaned.

 "Alright, don't get your panties in a bunch…or maybe do." It never ended with him. "I don't know a lot about some of the younger guys that are newer in the league, but my guess is they're all horny little bastards. Hell, I was when I first got in the league."

 "You still are."

 "Touché." He answered before continuing on. "So, like I probably don't have to mention the rivalries to you, but like Caps and Pens hate each other, the Flyers and Pens hate each other. Doesn't everyone just hate the Pens?"

 "I think you either love them or hate them."

 "That's true," he agreed with your statement. "The Flyers and the Caps hate each other as well and don't get me started with who hates the Bruins. Wow, who really put them all in your hotel?"

 "I'd like to know that as well." It seemed like whoever did, had a warped sense of humor and you were now going to be stuck handling the mess that they'd made. "So, basically what you're saying is that it'll be an all-out brawl at times that I'll have to clean up after."

 "Sorry babe, but I think it could be. On the bright side, we're supposed to stay on our own floors."

 "Like that's going to happen." Maybe you should designate elevators or something because you could just see Alex Ovechkin and Claude Giroux getting in one at the same time and by the time, they got to your lobby they'd both be bloody and beaten. "Anything else I should know?"

 "You seriously want me to go there?"

 "I mean...if you want to." You certainly weren't going to ask but if he offered the information you'd tuck it away for later that's for sure.

 He sighed heavily, "You know I hate this, but like Tom Wilson gets around that's for sure and I've heard that Travis Konecny does as well. If I'm being honest there's maybe been a girl or two that's compared us."

 "Really?"

 "That doesn't mean you have to be one of them, though if you are…you better tell them I'm better."

 "Don't worry Ty, I'll sing your praises. I promise." Obviously, you wouldn't be doing that but it didn't hurt to stroke his ego a bit. "Anyone, to avoid?"

 "Marchy!"

 "Dude, he was like one of your best friends. Why would you say that?"

 "Because I know him. Stay away he's trouble." The fact that you could almost see the look on his face as he was telling you was comical.

 "Fine."

 "Oh and stay away from Carter Hart." The name sounded familiar.

 "The goalie from Philly? Why?"

 "Because you'll corrupt him." You burst out laughing and Ty joined you. "He's too innocent for you."

 "Dually noted, as I do not want to be known as the corruptor of innocents." You searched your mind thinking of anything else you could ask since you had him on the phone. "What about Crosby?"

 "Sid?" and he just couldn't stop laughing; you could even hear him try to catch his breath.

 "Why is that so funny? The man is hot Tyler, whether you want to admit it or not."

 He got serious as he asked, "Who's hotter him or me?"

 Thank god you weren't on FaceTime, so you could answer him without your features giving you away. "You are Ty, of course."

 "I thought so, but like the guy is hockey twenty-four seven. There's no way he's going to be thinking about getting laid."

 "That's disappointing."

 "He's about the only one that I'd give you permission to fuck, only because I know it would be impossible for you to accomplish, even given all your talents." You could hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

 "Hmmm, are you willing to bet on that?"

 "What? Like bet, you'll fuck Crosby in the bubble?"

 "Yeah." Did it really sound like such an unattainable accomplishment?

 "What's the wager?"

 "Winner flies out when this whole COVID shit is done and is the other's sex slave for twenty-four hours."

 "Oh, you are on, baby. I can already see you handcuffed to my bed in some skimpy lingerie." He cackled at the thought and it fueled your resolve to win this bet.

 "Don't be so sure about that."

 "And how am I to know that you actually slept with him?"

 Well, this would be tricky. "Well, it's not like I'm videoing it."

 "No, but that gives me ideas for when I win." Maybe you should be rethinking this gamble.

 "What do you want his underwear?"

 "Nah, you could get that in the laundry. But I'm sure you could sneak a pic of him sleeping." God that sounded creepy but if it meant you had Ty as your slave for a day, it'd be worth it and you'd never show it to anyone else but him and even then you weren't going to send it to him, though he didn't need to know that now.

 "Ok, it's a bet then."

 "Too bad we can't kiss on it."

 "Oh, you'll be doing more than kissing when I win, Seguin." Mentally you started packing sexy outfits to take into the bubble with you while thinking of all the things you'd have Tyler do the next time you saw him. "On that note, I better get my ass to work and make this hotel ready for these guys."

 "Fine, I'll let you go as long as you promise to FaceTime me at some point during this bubble thing."

 "I'm sure I'll have a night open for you at some point." You teased.

 "Woman, you better."

 "No worries Ty, you're still my main man; when you're in town."

 "That's right baby, good luck."

 "Thanks for all the info, Ty. We'll catch up soon and good luck in the playoffs."

 You were just about to hang up when you heard him yell. "Don't forget my titty picture."

 All you could do was shake your head and click end call, though you being a woman of your word, you snapped a quick pic and sent it off to him; to which he responded with a drool face emoji.

 The next couple of weeks were a literal whirlwind as you moved into the hotel's presidential suite and got things ready. Beds were moved out so that some rooms that had two queens now had one king in them. The hotel was disinfected from top to bottom. If felt like you were wearing a hazmat suit all the time during this process. A week before the players arrived the NHL staff did, making sure everything was in order and making sure you had things set up for daily COVID testing. Of course, you had everything well in hand and organized per their instructions, though with a few tweaks that made the process more efficient. Overall, they seemed impressed with everything that you had done.

 All that preparation lead up to the big day, July 26th, when the teams moved in. The league had them spread out so that no two teams were checking in at that same time. Tampa Bay was the first in as they traveled the furthest. "You look nervous. Why are you nervous?" Carly's voice came up from behind you as you saw the bus pulling in through the gates.

 "There's a lot riding on this Car, and if anything goes wrong; you know it's going to be my head that rolls."

 "You're going to do great; this whole thing is going to be smooth like a bubble." She started to giggle. "See what I did there…bubble." You rolled your eyes at your friend but did let out a little snort of laughter at her pun. "Well, here they come."

 You straightened your jacket and smoothed down your skirt, before throwing your mask up to go meet your first arrivals. "Gentlemen, welcome to Hotel X." You tried to speak a little louder than normal hoping the mask didn't muffle your words. "We're excited to have you all here. I'm (Y/N) manager here during your stay, anything you need, feel free to call me any time of day." More of the guys filtered in while you spoke to Coach Cooper and a few of the players.

 "Anytime huh?" you heard someone mumble in the background and a couple of the guys snickered. It was hard not to roll your eyes as you knew they were focusing on them with your face partially covered. Someone else said, "She can manage me anytime." That was until someone cleared their throat, effectively silencing them.

 "Now if you'll follow me, let's get you all checked in." Tables lined with a welcome packet and lanyard with their ID on it, were off to the side and you were able to shuffle them through with pretty good speed, then sent them off to their rooms before they had to head to testing. Your information was inside every packet, in case you were needed at any point during their stay. It seemed like you no sooner got them in and the area disinfected then the next team, the Capitals, were pulling in, and so the day went on until all five teams were safely ensconced in the hotel. Thankfully you made it through that process without any problems, even though the Bruins flight was late and the Flyers were pulling in right as you got the last players through.

 It wasn't until dinner, that you encountered your first dilemma, getting a text message from Alexis, who was coordinating the meals. It was a simple message, Get to conference room 3. NOW! As fast as your heels could take you, you headed down to where the Capitals were supposed to be having dinner if you remembered the schedule correctly. You never expected to see what you did though when you entered.

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt92

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

When Chloe pulled back Marinette kept a hold of her shoulders to force eye contact. She knew Chloe still got embarrassed showing any type of affection so if she let go Chloe would likely retreat back into herself. As it was she just looked confused.

“I’m sorry.” She watched as Chloe blinked at her, obviously not sure how to react to that.

“Sorry about what?” Where did she even start?

“I’m sorry I scared you last night.” Chloe opened her mouth to respond but Marinette just kept going. If she didn’t get this out now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to. “Sorry that I’m so used to pushing myself past my limits that I don’t even stop to think if I need to anymore. I’m sorry you feel like you need to keep up a front around me because you’re afraid I won’t be able to handle hearing your problems. And I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like this was something you could talk to me about.” She motioned to the papers still spread out on the table. “It’s obviously something that you’re passionate about and have put a lot of work into. I can’t believe I got so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t even notice you were working on something. You deserve better.” It hurt that Chloe was so afraid of adding stress to her that she didn’t even want to share the good things.

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, at least not until I had a better idea of if it will work or not.” The mumbled response just made Marinette feel more guilty.

“Chloe.” She waited for her girlfriend to make eye contact. “You are not a bother. Your ideas and thoughts are not a bother. We’re partners. Even if you don’t want my input on something, you can still talk to me about it so I can at least offer you support. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.” Chloe just stared at her for a minute before Marinette saw tears in her eyes. The next thing she knew she was in another crushing hug.

“Thank you.” She sounded so grateful and Marinette was mental cursing at herself. She forgot to take into account how different their home lives were far too often. Marinette had parents who loved her. More than that they were present in her life. If she was excited about something she knew she could go to them and they would at least be interested in how she felt about it. Chloe had never had anything close to that. Her father gave her money and shooed her away. Her mother couldn’t be bothered to remember she had a child most of the time. Chloe had been alone for most of her life other than Sabrina.

“You don’t have to thank me. Given all the times I’ve bored you to tears with my nonsense, not to mention everything you do for me, I’m the one who should be grateful.” And she was. She honestly didn’t know what she would have done without her.

“You’re never boring and after everything I’ve done I still can’t believe you’re even willing to talk to me.” That was the problem. She felt like she deserved to be alone and ignored by everyone around her. Marinette was fairly certain Chloe expected her to just up and leave one day, or maybe even start being abusive towards her because that was really all she knew to expect.

“You made mistakes, yes. But you learned and grew from them. Judging someone on their past actions but completely ignoring their current ones is insane. We’ve both done things we regret, but letting those things define you just keeps you trapped in the past. I’d much rather concentrate on our future.” Marinette caught Selina give Chloe an ‘I told you so look’ that she was going to have to ask about later. “But to do that we’ve both got to get better at talking to each other. I need you to remind me every once in a while that I don’t have to do everything by myself anymore, and I’m going to get it through your head that just because your parents don’t think anything is more important than themselves doesn’t mean no one will ever put you first.”

“You two are so cute. I imagine this is how talks with Bruce would go if the man understood the concept of communication. Or admitting he’s wrong about something.” Chloe let out an amused snort before pulling back to look at the woman.

“So you’re saying Damian comes by it honestly then?” Marinette shot her a glare but the girl just stuck her tongue out at her.

“Between having a mother with no emotions, and a father with no idea how to show them you could certainly say so. He seems to have gotten much better at it since moving here though. We actually talked for once instead of just poking at each other.”

“Mari has that effect on people.” Marinette just rolled her eyes at the praise.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one calming him down.” Selina’s eyes lit up and Marinette regretted being so flippant.

“Ah yes, the mystery boyfriend that the boys think doesn’t exist. I’m looking forward to meeting him as well.” Marinette shared a look with Chloe.

“That will be on their terms if it happens at all. Given some of the things they’ve said and done, Damian’s not thrilled about having told them that much. And he doesn’t want to subject his significant other to their interrogations until they’ve had a chance to calm down either.” Selina rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated breath.

“I don’t blame him. Bruce was an only child and really has no concept of how siblings should interact versus how his kids actually do. Some of the things that come out of their mouths are ridiculous, especially Jason and Steph. Bruce always seems surprised when their teasing results in Damian pulling out weapons. It’s sad really.”

“So you’ll leave him alone to tell everyone in his own time?” Selina looked surprised by the question but Marinette had to make sure.

“Of course. When I figure out who it is I’ll keep it to myself. I promise I won’t even tell Bruce.” Chloe was eyeing the woman with a calculating expression.

“What makes you think you’ll figure it out before he tells you?” Selina chuckled.

“Because unlike the Bats I pay attention to the things that are right under my nose. Not to mention they all seem to be expecting some drastic transformation whenever he’s around this person and won’t be looking for subtle hints. I do know that Alfred and Cass have figured out who it is already and aren’t sharing, so I’m confident I’ll be able to figure it out, and keep the boys from looking too closely at the wrong things, just in case.”

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[oneweekoneband]

In the first cold hours of a new December morning, Taylor Swift once again revealed herself to be the primary antagonist in my hero’s journey. Weary and woebegone as I am, I will not waste strength on any attempt to deny that this latest attack has knocked me off balance, but I believe it is important that I—we, really, the lot of us who have been bloodied pitiably beneath this most brutal show of force—rebound immediately into a defensive posture so that there might be any hope at all for survival. Taylor’s second pandemic album will be released at midnight tonight, so I guess Shakespeare and his little “play” about elder abuse can get fucked after all. The album is called evermore. It was hubris, I can see in retrospect, which led me to tempt my enemy by writing all these words about her on this, the week of her birthday, knowing as I do that Taylor is one of those especially dangerous adults who make a big deal about both birthdays and lucky numbers. Icarus is my name now, covered in melted wax and tumbling to the sea. So as to steel ourselves for these horrors yet to come, I offer now, with not arrogance but the faith of the foolhardy, my best conjecture as to the content of each detestable track. 

willow - Could be about a tree. Could be about a girl. More likely it is both somehow, which is extremely pervy, and not just because that’s part of the plot of the unspeakably cursed The Raven Cycle novels, which I, a full blown adult with, generally speaking, normal brain function, voluntarily read for the first time this summer because some of us, ma’am, used the pandemic for activities that hurt only ourselves, not others. Well, happy holidays, tree fuckers.

champagne problems - Whatever this is, know that I will be considering it a work after Fall Out Boy’s “Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends” and I’ll be right to do so and many people will say as much admiringly and they’ll smile at me with pride and doff their caps as I go.

gold rush - If this song is anything but a loving, comprehensive summation of the children’s novel DEAR AMERICA Seeds of Hope: The Gold Rush Diary of Susanna Fairchild then I’m going to walk directly out of my home and, deadly virus be damned, keep walking until I’ve entered Taylor Swift’s instead, at which point I will begin to scream out a litany of complaints at the very top of my voice, ceasing only when her security team kills me or we fall in love.

tis the damn season - Worst case scenario this is a sad Christmas song (the best kind of Christmas song) and it devastates me in the most degrading way possible. Best case scenario it’s really bad and dumb and I can live without pain.

tolerate it - Many possibilities here. Could be about white-knuckling it through a period of depression, or a breakup. Most obviously, it could be about COVID-19 lockdowns keeping us trapped in our homes, disconnected from loved ones, going slow-brained and strange, bowls piling up, and suddenly so desperate for human interaction that even memories of having drinks with somebody from Hinge who quoted Friends twice in an hour are tantalizing in comparison to the touch-starved dreamstate of staying indoors... But I kinda feel like this is Taylor replying “COPE” from on high to my tweets about how I would rather be boiled alive than have to face the existence of this record.

no body, no crime (feat. Haim) - What would be very good is if this is a homosexual romp about Taylor Swift and the one hot Haim guitar girl with the really gay energy doing a murder together a la “Somethin’ Bad” by Miranda Lambert with Carrie Underwood, but honestly, it is probably another song about Gone Girl.

happiness - Impossible to speak on this since, thanks to Taylor Swift, happiness is something with which I have no familiarity. 

dorothea - Have seen chirping on the odious bird application about how perhaps this song title suggests that Taylor has written a song about Middlemarch, titling it for Dorothea Brooke, but I reject this because it implies that Taylor has read Middlemarch, which is a premise I cannot accept. Whether this refusal is out of self-preservation, being unwilling and in fact unable to face a world where Taylor Swift read and was moved to creation by the novel which was my most essential friend the summer I got dumped by a guy who I still had to work feet away from in a candle factory for another month, and about which Emily Dickinson (Emily Dickinson whose birthday it happens to be today, which isn’t to say that this means anything about anything. I am simply trying to batten down all hatches literally and spiritually in light of having been had once again by this numerology obsessed demon) once wrote "What do I think of Middlemarch? What do I think of glory.” or because I just at my core do not believe that Taylor has read a single book since Gone Girl I couldn’t possibly say.

coney island (feat. The National) : Some ungodly americana ass bullshit that is going to ruin my life. The thought of holy terror shaped like a horse girl Taylor Swift and trickster nymph in the body of a tax accountant Matt Berninger, two individuals I have allowed, separately, to cause me grievous psychic harm, having even the barest amount of one to one contact, even digitally, has made me want to peel all my skin off and put it back on flipped inside out so that I might, when I look in the mirror, see a version of myself which approximates how I feel.

ivy - Another song for the plant lesbians. That’s fine, and I’m happy for that community, but what I want to know, looking at this growing pile of songs named after women, is where, Taylor, is the song about loudmouth queen Inez, legendary gossip and, for my money, the star of folklore?  

cowboy like me - Putting it as mildly as humanly possible, to slit my throat would be less cruel. I am drawing a straight line from me writing illegible sequels to perfect film An American Tail: Fievel Goes West (itself a sequel) in crayon as a toddler, to Paula Cole’s “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?” on the radio in my mom’s two door Honda, to me everyday after school in third grade changing into the cowboy costume my godmother bought, to me at fourteen internalizing a sense of righteous indignation that would take years to even begin to outgrow when Crash beat Brokeback Mountain for Best Picture, to the winter I dropped half my classes out of fear and sickness and read paperback westerns on the twenty third floor of the college library for tens of hours at a go, to the profoundly gay episode of Supernatural called “Tombstone” which is, yes, named for the profoundly gay cowboy film Tombstone, to the inspired and revitalizing pause in “Space Cowboy” by Kacey Musgraves where she’s like, “You can have your space........ cowboy”, to Mitski’s Be the Cowboy, to the perfect boygenius cover of certified classic “Cowboy Take Me Away”, to whatever the hell this is going to be.That line is not to make a point at all. It’s just that there is a line and beside it there is me, incapacitated.

long story short - Just like all the other times anyone has ever invoked this phrase in the entire history of human beings expressing themselves with language, it is going to be a huge lie, because this woman never shuts up.

marjorie - After all that Taylor has put me through over the years, she should have at least named one of these wretched things “ellen” after my dead Sagittarian grandmother, whose birthday is tomorrow, December 11th, which is again, the release date of Taylor Swift’s second album in sixth months, but it’s probably for the best that she didn’t because you simpletons would immediately think it was an homage to George Bush’s friend Dory the fish, and therefore gay, regardless of the actual text of the song, and it’d be the “betty” massacre all over again. That being said, this is almost assuredly another horny song about some mid-century white lady. Only days ago Taylor was telling Entertainment Weekly that she’s been watching a lot of movies in quarantine, and while she didn’t name 1958’s Marjorie Morningstar starring Natalie Wood, I wouldn’t put it past her.

closure - God, I hope this one is another Kaylor classic so we can all act like complete raving lunatics online from the confines of our own plague quarters for a few days. It’s been a hard year.

evermore (feat. Bon Iver) - I’ll be catatonic by this point. Who cares?

right where you left me - Yes, in hell.

it’s time to go - Yes, TO HELL.

[c4pricornc4ts]

The Minors Lunch Club (MLC for short.)

This is a Valentines day one-shot for intruxx <3

Characters: Tommy, Ranboo, Sam, Tubbo

Catagory: Fluff 

Words:2.1k 

For a MCYT writing challenge, join the writer’s block discord here!

----------------------------------------------- It’s a very on-brand thing for Tommy to do- leave getting his friend a gift the day before Valentine’s day. He kept putting it off because he wasn’t sure what to get Ranboo. He has hybrid friends, but Tubbo was easy. He and Sam had taken a break from the hotel to make the boy a small bee necklace that he knew he’d love. 

Endermen were a whole new category. What did enderman hybrids even like? He hadn’t talked to Ranboo much unlike Tubbo. So he was really at a loss for ideas. Are there items that are offensive to give an enderman? He hopes Sam will know. Otherwise, he’s going to have to ask Tubbo and he really doesn’t want to get laughed at. 

Sam doesn’t laugh, even if Tommy knew the question was ridiculous. He wasn’t used to that. 

“What do endermen like?” He’s gathering more wood for the hotel, Sam somewhere behind him. 

“What are you setting up some kind of… enderman trap?” 

He throws his axe down, splitting another log. Trying to keep his focus on his work, embarrassed to admit the truth to Sam. 

“No- I don’t know what to get Ranboo for tomorrow. And I don’t think he’d appreciate me trapping his cousins.” 

“Yeah you’re right, don’t tell him about Philza’s hardcore world then.” Tommy hears Sam shudder, his tail making a slight sound as it puffs out. 

“Didn’t plan on it Big S.” Tommy laughs and cuts through another trunk. 

“Just get him something he likes, we hybrids aren’t that different you know.” 

“That’s the problem! I don’t know what he likes. We barely talk, but Tubbo went and invited the guy to our lunch and now I need to find him something.” He tosses the logs into their wheelbarrow and pushes it towards Sam’s pile to collect his as well. 

“Okay then, get him a grass block or something. Better yet, let him pick. Y’know?” 

“Your ideas are shit, Sam.” He hopes Sam can somehow hear a “thank you” in that insult. Because Tommy just got the best idea ever. “I’ll drop all this off, then I’m off to build something else. I’ll see you tonight yeah?” 

“See you then, good luck with Ranboo. The only way you could mess this up is by giving him water so just- don’t do that.” The creeper hybrid goes back to the rest of the trees as Tommy pulls out his silk touch shovel and gets to work collecting grass blocks and a few other blocks just in case Ranboo likes variety. 

He tucks his new blocks away into his inventory and goes towards the main path of the SMP. 

With how far everything has gone, can he even call this the main path anymore?

He goes into the abandoned Walmart that Tommy for the life of him can’t remember who built it and starts arranging the mostly grass blocks into different piles and sections. Adding a small pile of sand and some smooth stone he mined with a silk touch pick for a little variety. He can’t have a store that only sold one thing, it was bad for the economy. He reasons. 

Once he was finished he went to Sam’s house to find something to make for dinner. He and the creeper hybrid had a deal, he does dinners and Sam lets him stay in the spare room while the hotel is being built. Though he knows Sam doesn’t actually care if he does it, he just wants Tommy to feel like he’s earning his stay. 

He appreciates it. He’ll never say it out loud but he appreciates all the little things Sam does for him. Maybe he’ll try being nicer to the man tomorrow. 

Probably not. 

He tears into his baked potato after wrapping Sam’s in some tin foil before running up the stairs to his room. Tomorrow he would drag a hopefully excited Ranboo to an abandoned Walmart and make the best second impression ever. 

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

Once he’s dressed and double-checks he has Tubbo’s gift in his inventory he pulls out his communicator to message Ranboo. Leaning against the front door. 

You whisper to Ranboo: Hey, meet me outside Sam’s house, I want to show you something. :)

Ranboo whispers to you: Alright, I’ll be there by the time you read this message. 

Tommy reads the message again, trying to understand what it meant when he hears a small vwhoop and jumps a bit when he looks up to see a slightly disoriented 6’6” enderman hybrid standing on his front porch surrounded by purple particles. 

“I hate teleporting. But Philza says I need to do it more so here I am.” 

Tommy regains his composure as Ranboo straightens out his suit that Tommy can only assume got ruffled in the process. 

“You know, that whole teleporting thing would’ve been useful back when we were fighting for L’manberg.” Referring to L’manberg so lightly with anyone else would be impossible, but Ranboo’s absence from those days made it easier to joke about with. “What were you doing before you came here anyway?” 

“I don’t remember.” Ranboo looks away, Tommy silently berates himself for asking. He really didn’t want Ranboo to hate him. 

“That’s okay tall man! You’re here now and I’m stupid for asking.” He starts walking towards the Walmart hoping Ranboo would just follow. 

He does. “You’re not stupid, most people would remember. I just have beef with memories y’know?” 

“Beef with memories…? You’re gonna have to tell me about whatever that means later. But for now I gotta show you your gift.” 

“My gift?”

Tommy stops and turns to him. “Your valentine’s day gift! I thought you knew, why else would you just teleport to me no questions asked?” 

“I must’ve-” 

“Forgotten. Right. It’s no big deal, but what I’m about to show you inside of this broken down Walmart is.” He takes Ranboo to the entrance which is just the 2x2 opening not surrounded by broken glass. “Welcome to the enderman store! I made it myself because I am just so cool.” 

Ranboo immediately ducks under the doorway and starts moving the blocks around. “You aren’t very cool but this makes you at least 20% cooler.” 

“Does that mean you like it?” Tommy asks as he goes to stand behind the makeshift counter. 

“Of course I do! It’s like- like a block playground.” Ranboo teleports around the store and Tommy looks down because the sight of him appearing and disappearing was making his head hurt. 

“You pick one yet?” He plants his elbow on the counter and tries to give his friend a good impression of an underpaid cashier. 

“Pick one for what?” 

“As your gift.” He says it like it was the most obvious thing in the world but with the way Ranboo stands confused he supposes it wasn’t. “I mean, the whole store is your gift actually. But you gotta like, pick your favorite block or something.”

“That’s kinda stupid.” 

“Whatever, at least I’m not 6’6”, now pick your favorite grass block so we can go to Tubbo’s and show him how cool I am.” 

“Okay, I like…” He carefully considers the dirt for what? Tommy doesn’t know. Maybe endermen have a block grading system. 

He finally picks one of the many grass blocks in the corner and places it in front of Tommy. 

Tommy uses his communicator as a scanner and pretends to ring up the block. Ranboo just seems even more confused. 

“What? This is a store roleplay. I’m just keeping things realistic.” He pushes the grass block back to Ranboo who takes it and immediately holds it out in front of him. “The cost is teleporting Tommy to Tubbos because he’s lazy and doesn’t want to walk.” 

The taller laughs and Tommy climbs over the counter and clings to Ranboo’s arm bracing for the sudden movement. He closes his eyes and stumbles forward a bit when the hybrid brings them to Tubbo’s in under a second. 

He lets go of Ranboo once he’s sure he won’t trip and goes up to Tubbo’s door, instead of knocking he just let’s himself in. Rather he announces he’s here by shouting, “Big T! We’re here for lunch and I brought a very tall man with me. I think his name is Rainbow, not sure though.”

“Tommy it’s-” Ranboo is interrupted by Tubbo appearing from the kitchen, the fur coat he is usually buried in abandoned for a cheesy heart covered apron. 

“Ranboo! Tommy!” He runs up to them both with excitement, but he quickly tilts his head at the grass block Ranboo had brought in that was no doubt ruining his floor. Tubbo runs back into the kitchen and orders the boys to, “Stay there!” and when he returns he is carrying a planter pot with a little note attached that says, “To: Ranboo, From: Me :)”

“This is perfect, you can fill my gift with… wait did Tommy really give you fuckin dirt?” 

“No! I gave him a whole store of dirt you dickhead!” 

“I liked it.” Ranboo adds, trying to help Tommy’s case. 

“See Tubbo? He loves my gift, you are just a hater.” 

“Whatever.” Tubbo rolls his eyes and turns around, leading the other two into his kitchen. 

They take a seat and Tubbo places a basket of bread in the middle of the small wooden table. Tommy runs his hands under it to where he can feel the carvings of his and Tubbo’s name. They had built the table together, hell they had built most of the furniture in this house together.

Tubbo sits down next to Ranboo and places a jar of honey, no doubt from his own bees on the table.

“You know we should invite Purpled next time, then we can call it the MLC.”

“Call it the what?” 

“Y’know the minor lunch club! All the teenagers in one place, hopefully shit-talking the adults.”

“Tubbo can you-” Ranboo is interrupted by Tubbo, who was focused on what Tommy just said.

“We are not naming anything ‘Lunch Club’ ever, pick another name.”

“What? Why not?” He whined. 

Ranboo reaches over the table to grab the honey, knocking over the vase of flowers in the middle of the table. Tubbo pauses, he’s stood up, preparing to lean over and hit Tommy. 

“Tubbo I’m so sorry I’ll-I’ll clean it up.” Ranboo starts to go grab a towel when Tubbo tackles him and pretends to be mad. Tommy just sighs at the scene and goes to actually grab a towel before the water could ruin the table. 

“It’s valentine’s day and you’re fighting.” 

“It’s play fighting, it's a hybrid thing you wouldn’t get it.” 

Tubbo knew what he was doing, get Tommy mad so he’ll come over there and join them too. 

It works, Tubbo giggling as Tommy pushes him off Ranboo and shakes him gently. 

Tubbo headbutts him gently, careful not to actually hurt him. (It had happened once, Philza was not happy.) 

Tommy wraps his arms around the deer and refuses to stop hugging him, Ranboo takes the opportunity to get up and actually wipe down the table before going back to where Tommy was sitting against the door laughing holding a faux annoyed Tubbo. 

“Let me go Tommyyyy.” Tubbo whines, it’s muffled by the blond’s shirt. 

“No, you were mean to me and now I’m sad.” 

Ranboo sits down next to them and whispers “Clingyinnit.” causing Tubbo to laugh and Tommy to let him go opting to go mess with the enderman instead. 

“I am not clingy!” 

“He says, as he clings to Ranboo. His newest victim.” 

They finally get up, dusting themselves off, and go to exchange the rest of their gifts. Tubbo giving Tommy earrings with two purple disks on them. Tommy hands him the bee necklace and then Ranboo gives both of them a pig spawner. 

They go out and help Sam with the hotel for the rest of the day and when it’s dark outside they say their goodbyes and promise to come back tomorrow to see Tubbo’s new ‘project’ which the two no doubt means more nukes. 

It’s almost midnight by the time Tommy works up the courage to give Sam his gift. Walking up to his bedroom door and knocking gently. Fiddling with the letter he had made. He had no reason to be nervous, it was just a card to thank Sam for everything. He owed the man so much more. 

He had avoided giving Sam the card all day, but there was no turning back now. He supposes he could just run back to his room, pretend to be asleep when Sam goes to ask if he knocked. 

“Tommy?” Sam opens the door, yawning. Tommy had clearly woken him up.

He shoves the card towards the creeper hybrid and looks away as he reads it. 

Tommy can tell when he’s done because Sam murmurs an “Oh, Tommy…” before going to hug the blond. Who happily accepts it. 

“Your gift idea wasn’t shit, he loved it actually.”

“I know, I never have bad ideas.” Tommy can imagine the grin on Sam’s face as he says that and it’s enough to make him laugh softly. For the first time in a long time, Tommy finally takes a deep breath. Holding onto Sam a little tighter than maybe he should. Tommy’s tired of letting go. 

Neither of them ever want to let go. 

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (9)

In Which Plagg cuts the Umbilical Cord

Howdy folks! Thanks for the patience! I like to pretend I’m regular with uploads, but we all know that’s not true. And for a little while, it’s going to be worse. I had a gallbladder attack this week, and I have to wait about a month to get it out. In the meantime, I get sick pretty easily from most foods. So I’ve kind of put writing on the backburner. 

Oh, I’m also planning a wedding!

Thanks for understanding and not sending demands for updates!

FF.net | Ao3 

—

Adrien was feeling pretty darn good, all things considered. 

Ladybug, or Marinette rather, had been so adamant for so long that no one could know their identities. It was a mantra he stuck to, though he desperately wished to know her outside the mask. 

With Nino in on the secret, it felt more liberating than he expected. All night, he told Nino stories of his terrible excuses and narrow misses of getting caught. 

“I don’t know how I didn’t catch it sooner.” Nino had said, hindsight being 20/20 and all that. 

And Adrien admitted that he felt dumb for not realizing Nino was Carapace sooner. So Nino’s guilt was lessened a bit by that. 

While the boys talked, Plagg stayed rather neutral. He didn’t divulge any more of his plans or prepare them for what was to come. 

Because he couldn’t. Plagg was preparing for several different outcomes, all hindered on many overlapping factors. He just had to hope for the best for now and not stress Adrien out. 

The kid deserved to enjoy his first sleepover.

—

Being an ancient being, Plagg’s passive perception was relatively high. He noticed things and had an awareness that surpassed most other entities on the planet. 

Though, he rarely acted on anything he noticed, since he could phase out of most danger.  It mostly kept him from being seen by people who weren’t supposed to see him. 

However, alarm bells were currently going off like crazy inside his—or Adrien’s—head. 

Lila was hovering just a bit too closely for comfort. 

Though she was usually the main attraction in a conversation, she wasn’t very good at spying. She hovered, just at the edge of the circle, throwing out plenty of ‘oh, don’t mind me’s, but keeping her eye trained on him. She even followed them when they went out for lunch. Far enough away that no one would notice, mind you, but there none the less. 

Lila was not Gabriel’s muse. She was his stooge. His little puppet. His meat camera. 

As long as Lila was around, Gabriel was aware of every action he took. Who knew what kind of bull shittery she’d pull if he did something remotely different. 

But what exactly was she watching for? Just reporting his change in behavior? 

Had Gabriel suspected too much? 

It was high time Plagg put the next phase of his plan into action. 

But first, he needed to throw Lila off the trail. 

It was after class, and everyone was packing their stuff up and discussing how the weekend had gone. 

This seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

“Hey guys! I taught Lila how to play Magic at the last photoshoot! Anyone want to play with her?” 

The words were like fresh blood in a tank of sharks. Lila was grabbed and sat down at a desk, as she tried to come up with an excuse to leave. 

“Oh, I’d uhh...I’d love to play. But my mom has a doctor appointment after school and she wanted me home...” 

“Oh Lila, it’s okay,” said Plagg. “Don’t feel bad about skipping our study session. This is your chance to really bond with the boys in our class!” 

Lila just sent him a tight lipped smile. 

“Okay, Kim, let Lila use your deck.” 

“What? No! ‘Soul Sisters’ is perfectly crafted and only an expert can really unlock its true potential.” 

Alix swiped the deck from his hand. “Yeah, you build a deck with all the tig-bitty angel wifus. It’s great. Take a break, horn dog.” She slammed the deck down in front of a traumatized Lila. 

Max was her partner. “Don’t worry, we’ll go slow and I’ll explain everything as we go along.” 

Plagg smiled to himself, watching as the boys, and even some girls, crowded around to watch. 

He then caught Marinette’s eye and gestured out to the hall. There was no way Lila could stealthily maneuver her way over to him without drawing the attention of all their classmates. 

In the hall, Plagg took Marinette’s hand and led her away, into a secluded corner of the upper floor. Hopefully, Lila wouldn’t spot them if she tried to do something rash. 

“Is everything okay, Adrien?” Marinette asked, her face tinged pink. 

“Not...not completely. Lila was following and eavesdropping on me all day.” 

Marinette gasped, covering her mouth. “That’s sick!” 

“Yes, I agree. I’m not quite sure what she was looking for, but I’m fairly certain she’s spying for my father.” 

Marinette squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry, Adrien. If I knew how to help...” 

“I should be the one apologizing.” He said, genuine sadness in his voice. He had hoped solving Adrien’s problems would have helped Marinette out, but he worried it would be the opposite. 

“What do you have to apologize for?”

He took her hands, holding them delicately in his own. “I told you that I made a deal with her to get you back into school. But…”

She whispered. “Adrien...” 

He touched her face, ever so gently, laying the charm on thick. “Marinette, I care about you so much, and if I could avoid this I would, but...” 

“But what?” 

“Lila’s made it clear that she’s taking this feud I’m having with my father personally. She’s going to take whatever chance she can get to go back on our agreement. She’s going to go after you again.” He shook his head, conjuring tears into his eyes. “I can’t bear to see you hurt by her!” 

“Oh Adrien!” She gasped, before throwing her arms around him. “Please don’t cry. I can handle her, honest.” 

“I have a plan in motion,” he clarified, squeezing her. “She won’t get away with her lies and harassment for much longer. I just need you to be strong.” 

“Whatever you need, just let me know. You don’t have to do this alone.” 

“I know. Thank you, Marinette. Now, I have to go before Lila escapes my trap.” 

Her smile was genuine and full of gratitude. “I’ll see you tomorrow then! Bye!” 

Eager to take what head way he could get, Plagg pressed a kiss to Marinette’s cheek before hurrying away. 

He missed her squealing and dancing after he turned his back. 

—

“I really dislike that sausage-haired cretin.” Plagg muttered as he walked home. “It’s one thing to lie to get attention, but for her to spy on us all day? Talk about creepy!”

“Thank you for warning Marinette,” Adrien said as he floated by his shoulder. “I agree that Lila is looking for any opportunity to go back to bullying her. I think with the warning, she’ll be able to come up with some way to protect herself.” 

“Nothing against your lady’s ability to find solutions, since that is her job as Ladybug, but I don’t know what kind of back up plan she can have against a compulsive liar. Why is every adult in Paris so gullible?” 

“I have a theory,” Adrien suggested. “They aren’t gullible. They just see a pretty young girl crying and they just go along with whatever she says to make it stop. They just assume she’s exaggerating or something.” 

“Good observation,” Plagg commended. “I agree.”  

“But I think we should put off worrying about Lila for a bit and focus on my father. He hasn’t seen you since Friday morning when you serenaded him. I can’t imagine he’s going to be happy to see you.” 

“Adrien, we’ve been over this. I can handle a grown ass adult throwing a temper tantrum. There’s only two things he hasn’t tried yet, and they’re both pretty extreme. I don’t know if he has it in him. I called his bluff before, anyways.” 

“What two things?” 

“Having me arrested...or getting violent. I dared him to hit me and he swore he never would. I just can’t imagine he was telling the truth.” 

“Are you trying to drive him to it?”

“I’m trying to drive him to a place of ‘I give up, what do you want’? Hopefully we can talk, and he’ll come to see you aren’t a child anymore. As much as I think your dear old dad is capable of being a butt head, I think he’s also capable of understanding. He is a successful businessman after all. Business doesn’t come without a little mercy.” 

“That’s a...way to look at it...” 

At that point, they reached the mansion, and Adrien returned to the pocket. 

Plagg decided not to ring the doorbell, and instead climbed the wall. 

He strolled very nonchalantly up to the front door, and entered, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Then he waited three seconds. 

“1...2...”

“Adrien!” Gabriel rushed out of his office. “I didn’t expect you home already.” 

“Because Lila didn’t text you with my location?” 

Gabriel just stared, slightly wide-eyed and pale. 

Caught red handed. 

“She is spying on me for you, right? This isn’t just her stalking me on her own. She’s not smart enough for that.” 

“I—“ 

“So what? You don’t know how to communicate with me so you go to the only person in my class that I not only dislike, but has a record of compulsive lying? Seriously? You thought that was your best option?” 

“You do not get to lecture me about my choices!” Gabriel barked. 

But Plagg just shook his head. “You make no sense to me.”

“My decisions and actions don’t have to make sense to you. You are my child, and you will obey me! Do you understand?” 

Plagg just gave him a patient smile. Arguing with him never went anywhere, because Gabriel always turned his ears off the second Adrien said something he didn’t want to hear. 

Which was anything that wasn’t “yes sir.”

“I understand what you want. But I can’t give it to you. You haven’t listened to what I’ve said. You’re so caught up in injustice, that you haven’t seen how your yelling has affected me. I’m just pulling farther and farther away. Do you want to lose me for good? Is that what you want? Because that’s the road you’re heading down. I’m 15 now. Three years of this, and I could easily move away and never speak to you again after how badly you’ve treated me.” 

“I do not treat you badly! Have you ever gone without food? Without a soft bed? Without clothes or showers? No! You have it better than most people in this city.” 

“You’re right, I should be without want or need. But you’ve severely neglected my heart. Gabriel, I’m lonely, and sad. I’m disappointed every time you break a promise. I can go anywhere and have food and shelter and whatever, but only you can give me the love of my father.” 

Gabriel was silent at this, staring at his son, his lips in a firm line. 

“So I’m going to go. I’m staying with some friends for a while. Just to give you a taste of what it’s like without me. If you like it, then, when I’m 18, I’ll leave, and never come back.” 

Gabriel looked to the ground, but found himself unable to say anything. Plagg ascended the stairs, and went into Adrien’s room. 

“I don’t want to leave…” Adrien said, quietly. “I’d rather stay and…” 

“And do nothing?”

Adrien looked away. 

“Look,” said Plagg, directing his chin up. “Your father is a hard nut to crack. We just have to push harder and harder. Do you still trust me?”

“What choice do I have?”

“It’s going to be okay, kid.” He rubbed his thumb over his whiskers. “I promise.” 

He packed up his duffel that he had taken for his sleepover, and came back down the stairs. 

Gabriel was right where he left him. “So, you’re going? Just like that?” 

“At this point, I think it’s for the best. Just for a little while. Give us both some perspective.” 

“You’ll regret it,” he warned. 

“Maybe. But what’s there to learn from if I don’t make mistakes?” 

Gabriel didn’t stop him as he walked out the door. 

After he left, Nathalie emerged from the office. “Your son is surprisingly mature for his age.” 

“No, he’s stubborn. Just like his mother. I give him three days before he comes crawling back.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” 

“Then I’ll make him come back.” 

—

Chat Noir bounded over rooftops at sunset. He had a destination in mind, and getting spotted by Lila or one of Gabriel’s other goons would ruin it all. 

After traveling in circles, he finally reached the Lahiffe house and stopped on the fire escape outside Nino’s room. 

Nino looked up at the sound. “Oh dude!” 

“Nino Lahiffe, the time has come.” Said Plagg in his ancient voice. “This is the Miraculous of the Dude.” He opened his hand to show a single Hersey’s kiss. “You will use it for the greater bro-kind, and let me crash here for the foreseeable future, as I have run away from home.” 

“Dude...” Nino took it reverently. “I will fulfill my sacred oath...but you should probably come in through the front door, and we should kind of explain this to my mom, or she’s going to wonder how you got in the house.” 

“True. Meet you downstairs in five!” 

—

Marinette laid in her bed, eyes trained to the sky through the sky-light, hands clutching a pillow tightly to her chest. 

She sighed.

The sound made Tikki roll her eyes. She knew Plagg was hamming it up, but did he have to be so…charming?! 

“Tikki…” Marinette announced, after mooning for over an hour. “I think…I think I can tell him tomorrow.” 

The words were music to her ears! Finally! “You can do it Marinette!” 

Then a shadow passed Marinette’s face as the worst past through her mind. “But what if he hasn’t been earnest? What if the way he’s been acting has just been to get back at his father or Lila?” 

Tikki almost groaned. “Marinette, Adrien loves you. He really really loves you! The way he pulled you aside today and warned you about what was going to happen with Lila? He didn’t do that for anyone but you. That was real care! The longer you beat around the bush, the more you’re putting off your own happiness. And you don’t want that, do you?”

Marinette sat up, resolve hardening. “Tomorrow then. I’ll tell him tomorrow, and get my happily ever after.”