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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years

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Type 2

Word Count: 10,755

Overview: You were diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes in high school and ever since then, you’ve been able to manage it without a problem. Sticking to a schedule and monitoring your blood was easy, but then came Jimin and suddenly, you found yourself hiding it all from him. But when your blood sugar drops dangerously low in the middle of the night, Jimin’s the only one you can call for help.

Pairing: Jimin and Reader

Genre AU/Rating: - Established Relationship AU - Medical Condition AU - Slice of Life AU - Angst - Fluff Rated: PG-13

Warning: In order of appearance-: Implied bullying, extreme thirst, lack of appetite, weight loss, passing out, type 2 diabetes, drinking, swearing, insecurities, needles, mention of blood while using a blood glucose meter, extremely low blood sugar.

A/N: This is not the story of everyone who goes through Type 2 Diabetes. Not everyone has it when they’re in high school. This fic is loosely based on my experience with caring for my mother who is diabetic, and based on my own family’s history with this condition. My mother who almost her entire family is diabetic, so it was only a matter of time that she would become diabetic, except she was able to keep from being diagnosed until her mid to late 50s. That is not to say you can’t be diagnosed as young as high school or even in middle school, it can happen, I went to middle school with a girl who had a pump in 8th grade. This is just one story.

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Part of the Intimacy Anthology Project

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

It first started in high school.

But when you actually sat down and thought about it, the early symptoms were there a year prior in eighth grade. More often than not, your throat was dry, so you always had a water bottle next to you. Back then though it wasn’t as bad. Plus, any conversation with one of the girls who wore makeup every single day – it was always shocking when they announced that their mothers let them – swore that drinking a gallon of water a day, would help with maintaining clear skin.

Whether or not there was logic to this declaration was to be remain hidden – many years later you would learn that actually, there was no science between drinking water and having acne free skin – you and all the other girls hopped on the train. It was because of this promise of clear skin, that no one batted an eye when you began going through a bottle a day, or the fact that you were using the bathroom more often as well.

You were fourteen. Your body was changing, nothing made sense anymore. Happy one minute, then curled up in fetal position as that depressing Sarah McLachlan commercial played on the TV, and you were telling your parents that they needed to adopt a kitten because it was the right thing to do. How were you even supposed to know that what was happening, actually wasn’t all that normal?

Mom simply handed over your water bottle, a bag of the secret stash of chocolate, and a heated rice bag for the cramps, and everything was decently better.

You only thought the sudden extreme thirst was…part of it all.

In freshman year, you were going through bottles to the point that you bought a cute reusable water bottle that you decorated with stickers, never willing to admit how many times you had tipped it back for it to be empty. You weren’t exactly the poster child for going green and advocating climate change, but you weren’t stupid either and knew that the plastic bottles weren’t going to help the Earth.

The popular girls from eighth grade had surged up the ladder, and were now the queens of the freshman class and upturned noses. No longer were they giving compliments or suggestions on how to blend eyeshadow, or discussing the latest trends in fashion. Instead, they ignored the good mornings in the hallways from girls, and laughed as they slammed textbooks out of their hands. Smiles turned into grimaces, and helpful tips morphed into jeering and mean comments usually centered around everyone’s looks.

While you tried to not let their lies get to you, you couldn’t help but pause by a mirror and turn every which angle possible, trying to see the flaws that they pointed out all the time. It was confusing because to be perfectly honest, you were average. There was nothing that made you stand out from the crowd, nor did you hide in the shadows, you were simply in the middle and that never bothered you.

You never gave them the satisfaction of letting them see how their words affected you on the simple fact that they didn’t. Maybe you’d shrug, or raise an eyebrow, before turning away to drink from the trusty water bottle by your side. They meant nothing to you, but everyone around you thought that they did. Friends were quick to jump on the reassurance train, their gazes lingering on the food you barely touched. Even when it was taco Tuesday, you’d barely eat half of it or even less before getting full.

No one seemed to believe that you were full, or that drinking two whole bottles of water by noon made it impossible to shove more than a few bites down your throat.

Dinner was always hard. Sat between mom and dad, the looks they’d give each other as they watched you push at the small amount of food on your plate never went unnoticed. You’d lost track of all the times that mom came into your bedroom to ask if everything was okay, if the girls at school were saying things, or if there was perhaps a guy you were trying to impress. If only you’d gotten a dollar for every time someone asked you that, you would have been a millionaire by sixteen.

Soon you were making excuses to not have to eat around people, saying that you had made up a plate of whatever was left in the fridge and weren’t hungry. At school you started bringing a brown bag lunch. Since you weren’t eating the food you bought, it didn’t make sense to waste money on it. It took a while for your friends to get that you just weren’t hungry, but eventually they knew not to bring it up, letting you eat as little as you want and drink water.

That was fine with you. You were fine, that was what you told them and you wanted them to believe them. You didn’t want them to know that every night before bed you stood in front of the mirror on your wall, turning side to side and every which way to see the new curves from your chest to your hips, or the gap between your thighs.

They didn’t need to know that you despite the fact that you’d refill the water bottle three times a day at school, you’d refill it four additional times at home. Or how your belt now had extra holes that you had punched in it an attempt on your part to keep what was happening a secret.

Every weekend was reserved for sleepovers, movies, and at home facials with you and your friends, equally rotating between everyone’s house to keep it fair on who hosted. It was how you were able to relax and have fun, but it was hard to hide the sudden changes. At first, you started arriving already in your PJs, that way none of them had to see you change, but then they stared as you barely touched any of the snacks. The same ones that you all used to bake together. Then every time you got up to use the bathroom they’d sigh, having to pause the movie or wait for you to come back to continue playing whatever board game was out.

After three attempts, you stopped going to the sleepovers, giving some excuse that you weren’t feeling well, or that you were behind on a pile of homework. Whether they believed it or not, your friends accepted it without a second thought.

Those months of confusion and sudden changes felt like they were moving at a snail’s pace, but then one day you blinked and it was two days before Christmas, and none of your clothes fit you anymore. Everything was hanging on you, you were in the bathroom multiple times within a couple hours, and your throat felt like it was filled with sand that no matter how much water you drank, never seemed to offer any relief.

It was a vicious cycle that no one could ignore anymore. You weren’t yourself anymore, barely even a shell of the human who you had once been.

The morning it happened you had once again been in the bathroom going pee. When suddenly, your head felt heavy, too burdensome for your shoulders, so you leaned back against the wall to relieve yourself of some of the weight. Black dots filtered in your vision as you cleaned yourself up, the toilet flushing as you stumbled to the sink. The water rushed from the sink as you stood in front of the mirror, barely able to make out your own reflection and going fuzzy when you walked out of the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the water or the lights as you left. You didn’t remember even opening the door.

Someone had been walking by at the moment, although they didn’t know it, you felt like your mind was underwater, unable to think let alone speak as you tried to go back to your room. It was your mother. She stared wide eye at you stumbling around the hallway like a drunk and when she called out your name, you didn’t even hear her.

She called your name again. Then a third time. It was on the fourth that you looked over at her, your mouth moving and filled with sand, only nothing come out. The last thing you saw was her running towards you. Then it was dark.

The next time you’d open your eyes it was with a stark realization that you were no longer at home. A glance to your left revealed box monitors and tubes of all types, one of them connected to the IV in your arm and the other going to a monitor that was attached to your pointer finger. The bed wasn’t comfy and at some point, someone had changed you out of your PJs and into a light green hospital gown.

The door opened as a nurse in blue scrubs walked in, her blond ponytail pulled high up as she carried a chart, smiling when she saw you.

“Good to see that you’re awake,” she said, coming to your side to read the numbers, marking some notes down. “How are you feeling?”

Wetting your lips, you tried to speak but like always, your throat was dry.

The nurse glanced over and seeing your struggle, held up a finger as she walked to the connected bathroom, water suddenly running before being turned off as she came back with a plastic cup.

“Go slow,” she instructed, helping to bring the mattress up so you were sitting as she gave you the cup.

It took a few minutes, but when your throat wasn’t so dry, you tried again. “What happened? Where…where are my parents?”

She was changing out the IV bag for a new one, and you wondered if your body had really emptied that packet dry. “You passed out hun, but don’t worry, your parents just went to get some snacks from the vending machine. I’ll go get them and then the doctor will be right in to explain everything.”

“Am I okay?”

Her badge turned right side, showing her ID and that her name was Jenna. “Everything will be fine. The doctor will explain and answer any questions.”

You watched as Jenna connected a new IV bag, once again reassuring that she’d be back with everyone before leaving the room as the cold liquid entered your veins, surprising you with how good it felt.

Jenna kept her promise. First bring round your parents who hurried to hug you, telling you how worried they were about you and asking how you felt. In only a few short minutes the doctor came back with the nurse, smiling as she pulled out a chair to sit on.

It wasn’t cancer, nor was it anything uncommon that would puzzle the doctors on how you got, but rather something that you had heard of all the time in health classes.

You were diabetic. Type two to be exact.

They had run some blood tests and from what they were able to tell, your blood sugars had dropped low during your sleep and hadn’t gone back up when you woke. Combined with the loss of weight and dehydration you were experiencing, your body’s natural instinct was to protect itself and, in this case, that meant passing out.

The doctor reassured that it at least explained the various changes you had been experiencing, and as grateful as you were to finally understand what was going on, it now meant that your way of life was going to change, again.

Now your life revolved around using a glucose meter to check your blood sugar throughout the day, taking medicine that would help regulate your numbers, cutting back on sweets and various other foods that had tended to make them high. Slowly but surely you were able to gain back some of the weight you had lost, and the trips to the bathroom slowed down. You were living a new life trying to find the perfect balance.

One thing had been made clear by the doctor that day. This was lifelong. It was never going to go away; it was something that could only be managed.

So, you managed. All through high school, and then all through college, you managed to maintain your numbers, discovering that when you felt sluggish and off it usually meant your blood sugar was either really high or really low. Besides that, you normally felt fine and took shots at mealtimes and before bed to help regulate your levels.

That was the second, biggest change in your life. Every pill and medicine that the doctor prescribed to help with your levels had its side effects, and the world must have had a grudge on you because every single one made you ill or have a reaction. Usually insulin was a last resort option, but in your case, it was the only thing that appeared to help.

Downside to taking the shots were the prices, they were the true killer, but like everything in your life, you managed it all. Your parents of course worried, and the day you had moved out was perhaps the most nerve wracking for them. You were going to be on your own for the first time ever, it was a big moment, and as much as you appreciated and loved them, it was time for you leave home.

Having this new lifestyle didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything; your life was perhaps more or less the same as any other adult that you knew who was your age. Went to work five days a week as a dental hygienist, spent the weekends catching up on chores, and binge watching the latest shows on Netflix.

The only thing missing, was a love life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t try. There were multiple first dates and a couple second dates, but rarely was there a third. No matter what you did or how you tried to explain it, they all got uncomfortable when you mentioned that you were diabetic. At first it didn’t seem like it would be an issue. But when you’d get up a few minutes before the meal came and you’d explain that you needed to take a shot, they all clammed up. Like they were suddenly realizing that what you were more trouble than you originally appeared to be. That you actually had a condition that affected your life.

After that they’d stop calling, the texts they’d send were more apologetic and that they were busy. There were never anymore dates after that, and unable to help yourself you’d check their social media, not surprised when there were new pictures with a new girl, usually captioned with some type of heart emoji.

If they were dumping you for something that was out of your control, then you were the lucky one for avoiding what could be a toxic relationship. At least, that’s what you told yourself. It was good that you were waiting for the right person, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. How could anyone decide that you weren’t worth the time simply because you needed to take insulin?

You were a human being. Nowhere did it say you didn’t deserve love.

Despite that mindset, you once again found yourself coming home from a date that had no future of a third. Tossing your keys on the bed, you rummaged around your purse for the two cases stashed inside, still dressed in the cute outfit that had taken a majority of the morning to decide on. The cases themselves were adorable, and pretty cheap on Amazon. The first was purple and no bigger than your palm while zipped up. The second one was a light blue wristlet that was slightly longer.

You sighed while setting them on the nightstand, resentment filling your heart. The purple bag contained your pen and glucose meter with the test strips, and the other had your insulin, alcohol wipes, and spare needles. They were the very things that you needed to stay alive. They told you your numbers, it was how you decided on how many units to take with meals, and yet, they appeared to be a part of the reason that you couldn’t seem to hold on to a relationship.

It just fucking…sucked.

No longer caring that you had spent several hours to get the curls just right, you ran a hand through your hair. Mike had made it clear after your explanation for why you needed the light blue case just to go to the bathroom, that there wasn’t going to be a second date.

Which is fine, you thought, kicking off your heels and pulling your legs up to sit criss cross on the bed. He only talked about himself the entire time. And his ex-wife.

Maybe it was because you were telling them early on. Wasn’t there some unwritten rule about not talking about medical things on the first couple dates? Granted, a majority of them wanted to go out to eat for the dates and you couldn’t exactly not take a shot, but it wasn’t like you were doing it right there at the table. You always went to the restroom and used the stall with the changing table to be able to lay everything out.

Glancing at the two cases, you pressed your lips together. This was a major part of your life; it was part of your identity. But maybe…maybe if they didn’t know? What if you hid this from the next guy? It probably wouldn’t do much, if it did, were you really going to hide such an important part of yourself in the name of love?

They always seem to run off when I tell them, you thought. What’s the harm in waiting, and seeing if it’ll last more than a few dates before I tell?

It seemed pretty extreme. But there was only one way to find out.

As you settled back against the pillows, turning on Netflix once again, you couldn’t but hope that this didn’t backfire on you.

“You did what?”

Pressing your lips together, you rested your forehead against the fridge. It was a bad idea to tell you best friend what you had done. You knew that she’d say it was wrong to lie, to hide such an important part of your life from him. She was the voice of logic and reason, which was terrifying at times, but that was Kayla.

Grabbing the milk from the fridge, you glanced over your shoulder. She was staring at you, eyebrow raised as she tapped her nails against the table, waiting to hear your excuse.

“I…I haven’t told him.”

“And you’ve been dating for how long now?”

You stirred the mug until it was caramel in color, starring down at the coffee and partially wishing that you could shrink and run away from her reaction. “Three months.”

“Dude!”

Wincing, you stashed the milk away to carry the two cups of coffee to the table, setting Kayla’s down on the cozy you had out. She thanked you, absentmindedly stirring the spoon out of habit.

It was a Saturday ritual the two of you had since meeting in college. The two of you bonded while waiting in an excessive line for coffee on campus, and despite it being ridiculously long, neither one of you was willing to leave. Coffee was what you considered your life blood, and funny enough, so didn’t Kayla.

That day forward, the two of you always got coffee together before classes, and on Saturdays you bought a box of munchkins with iced coffee before retreating back to the lounge to relax and bitch about anything and everything. She knew about your diabetes, didn’t mind that you could only have a few treats before stopping, and when she hung out in your dorm room, she hadn’t been uncomfortable with seeing you having to take a shot.

After that semester, the two of you became roommates for the reminder of college. Even after graduating and moving out in the real world, getting real jobs, Saturdays were still for coffee and bitchin’.

“Walk me through this decision again?” She asked, reaching over for one of the glazed munchkins.

You lightly tapped the spoon against the rim of the coffee mug, slouching in your seat as you wrapped your fingers around it. The warmth spread through your fingers instantly, soothing a few nerves for the moment. Kayla was your best friend yes, but she also had very strong opinions.

“I was just, sick of finding dead ends,” you answered, staring down at the mud colored coffee. Just the way you liked it. “Every time I had explained that I needed to take a shot to manage my blood sugar, they all froze up. And then they’d tell me after the date ended that it wasn’t going to work, or they’d ghost me without any warning.”

It sucked. It really did, but for once you just wanted to be with someone and be happy. There had already been too many times that you’d gotten your hopes up over a guy only for it to end, without even an explanation no less.

Kayla covered your hand with hers, gently squeezing when you looked up at her. Her red hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her freckles scattered across her face and body. She refused to cover them up with makeup, and even then, you wouldn’t dare let her do so either. As much as you treasured her, you had witnessed first-hand her attempting to do makeup so badly that it nearly sent you to cardiac arrest.

“Hey,” she softly said. “Those guys were dick bags, there’s no need to beat yourself over them.”

Chuckling, you raised the mug to your lips, glancing in the living room. The apartment wasn’t the largest or the fanciest, but you were able to leave a piece of yourself in each room. Sunlight streamed through the bay window and through the dream-catcher you had hanging on the lock. Bailey, Kayla’s little teacup terrier, was taking advantage of said light and was napping on the couch.

“I’m guessing I should have sent them all to you?”

“Of course,” Kayla agreed, leaning back in the chair. “I would have kicked their asses and told them what type of scum they are.”

You reached over for your own munchkin, placing it on the saucer to break it in half. “Sorry, but I think you’ve missed your chance.”

“Dammit.”

Amused, you popped a piece into your mouth, enjoying the sweetness of the chocolate. Life had certainly taken the two of you in directions that neither of you expected, but you treasured these Saturdays. It was like nothing had changed and you were back in college, talking about the classmates that annoyed the crap out of you, pointing out the cute ones, and procrastinating on the assignments that needed to be done.

“So, are you going to tell me about him?” Kayla asked. “Last thing you said was that your neighbor was setting you up. Does he deserve the best friend approval?”

At the thought of Jimin, you were grinning into your coffee, coyly trying to avoid eye contact with her as she squealed. Her reaction was so strong that it woke Bailey up, causing her to bark a few times. Which was more adorable than it was intimidating like the dog probably thought.

Flipping your phone screen side up, you went to go find a picture of him for her. “He’s very, very sweet,” you said, handing the device over for her to scroll through. “And kind. He works at the animal shelter in town, loves to take Polaroid pictures, and he indulges in my coffee addiction.”

“I love him already.”

You grinned at that, taking a drink as she cooed and laughed at the various photos, and you began to tell her the story about how you met him.

As much as you hate to admit it, you had been apprehensive about your downstairs neighbor set you up with his friend for a blind date. It wasn’t that you were complete strangers with Taehyung - the guy was pretty chill and kept things interesting with constantly dying his hair - it had been more along the lines that you didn’t know much about him besides the conversations the you shared before going your separate ways.

According to your neighbor, your dating life – or non-existent one – hadn’t gone amiss on him either, and conveniently had a friend who was also in the single pool for quite some time, so he thought it would be nice to help you out. Actually no, he flat out told you he was setting the two of you up for a date. With only a moment’s hesitation were you able to say no dinner dates before he disappeared inside, tossing a thumb’s up over his shoulder for you and shut the door.

The next morning when you left for work, there was a sticky note on your door telling you to be at the 10th annual Flower Shower festival that Saturday for one. Jimin would be waiting at Paws for Days, the animal shelter.

The Flower Shower festival the town’s way of sharing their love of flowers and nature with everyone. Every shop that decided to participate in the event was assigned a different type of flower, and with that, they decorated their stores with it. They were then automatically entered into a contest to see who was the most creative with their assigned floral. First place was given a trophy stating that they were the winners of that year’s festival, and second and third were given ribbons and a plant of their choice.

What made it such a hit, was perhaps was the event that gave it its namesake. During the day, not only were there flowers decorated on the storefronts, but each company was able to hand out coupons for their flower that could be turned in at one of the many floral shops in the area. There were stalls for making and selling flower crowns, jewelry, perfumes, anything and everything imaginable that could incorporate flowers into a product filled the streets to be sold. Even food vendors went all out with all the stops.

Filling in any empty spaces were local artists, using any and all varieties of flowers to create sculptures, sometimes of small animals that a person could hold in their hands, to ones so large that it required ladders and multiple hands to help. Face and body painters had kids and adults of all ages waiting in line, eagerly handing over the few bucks to be decorated with flowers and various other decorative forms of flower power.

It was like the hippie movement met modern times for a day.

Perhaps the most beautiful of all the events, was the parade that happened at the end of the day. The festival couldn’t last all night since it would be hard to see the flowers, so the ending parade occurred at six. All the contest participants and winners walked along with the vendors and painters, each carrying baskets with flower petals or single flowers to throw out to the crowd, and while they held the attention of everyone, up on the rooftops of all the buildings were volunteers who waited for their to cue to toss buckets of petals on to the crowd below. It was as if the entire world was hitting pause on the bitterness of life, to enjoy a moment of beauty to take a shower, made out of flowers.

You never knew what it was about flowers that had the entire town obsessed with them, there were at least six shops dedicated to flowers and bouquets – one at least in particular focused mainly on gardening tools, sculptures, and fountains – within the downtown area.

Which made having your first date with Jimin at the Flower Shower festival all the more pleasing. It was more exciting and had plenty of things to do than going to another restaurant, but at the same time, a bit nerve wracking. Not only was it another first date, with a guy that you’ve never met in your life, hoping that your neighbor hadn’t set you up with some weirdo. This was the first date you were going on with the decision to not tell him about being diabetic.

Even though you weren’t going to bring it up, you still packed the cases into your purse, not wanting to risk needing it and not having them on you. After dressing in shorts and a loose flowery blouse with sandals, even doing your makeup lightly to match with the summer theme, you were ready to go out. Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, but your hand had been shaking to the point that you had to set down the mascara brush or stab yourself in the eye with it.

This was your first chance at seeing if it really made such an impact on your love life, making it felt like you were stepping into the dating scene all over again. That was what made it terrifying. This simple date would tell you whether or not you weren’t able to hold a relationship because of your lifestyle, or if it was because of you.

If it was because of the needles, then that you could understand. Not everyone was fond of them, and dealing with having to give yourself shots four times a day can be annoying at times, but if it was because of you in general…well, that was the ultimate sucker punch to the gut.

Before you could let yourself get lost in the sink hole of self-doubt, you forced yourself to leave, locking the door without even thinking to double check that you had everything that you needed. Luckily, you did.

It was to your advantage that you lived downtown. Walking to the shops only took five, maybe ten minutes if you were feeling lazy and with the location of Paws for Days in mind, you headed down the street in its direction.

The sun was high in the sky, occasionally blinding you when you passed by the tall buildings and gaps in the trees, but you felt the heat of the sun on your arms, and saw the clear bright blue sky overhead. It all helped to take your mind off what Jimin was like. Hell, you didn’t even know what he looked like. All that Taehyung wrote was that he would be outside by the shelter’s sign.

Nearing the heart of town, you weren’t all that surprised to see that nearly everyone in town was walking the streets, making it almost impossible to tell them apart from the people who were working.

Paws for Days was a street down from being smack in the center of town, and resembled a large farmhouse with floor to ceiling windows on the front entrance, allowing everyone to look in and see the cats and occasional dog walking around the front of the store. They took in animals of every breed, and were also a no-kill shelter. During the warm months it was common to hear dogs barking in the larger fenced in area behind the building as the animals played and ran about, enjoying the time out in the sun.

As you neared the shelter, it was the sound of barking and kids laughing that made you smile. In their front lawn, staff had set up play pen areas for the smaller dogs to sit out on the grass and roll around. Parents with babies carefully held them as they leaned down, allowing their child to gently pet animals and laughing as their palms get licked. There were other areas for the larger dogs, but a large banner that was attached to the shelter’s roof stole your attention.

Paws for Days 10th Annual Adoption Day!

You hadn’t realized that in addition to it being the tenth anniversary of the Flower Shower festival, it was also an anniversary for the shelter as well. Staff was walking around with blue shirts with the name of the shelter written in black, a little black paw print serving as the period. Flower crowns made out of orange cream roses sat on everyone’s head, and as you looked around, a group of people around your age appeared to be constructing a giant sculpture of a…well, it had paws and the lower half of an animal body.

Maybe later you’d come back and see what it turned out to be.

Continuing towards the shelter, you tried to look for the sign, but with a swarm of people walking in your way so they could either play with the animals or actually go inside to adopt, it took a little longer to reach your destination.

When you finally broke through and stepped away to the side to catch a breather, you were able to see the shelter’s wooden sign. To no one’s surprise, there was a stone statue of a cat and dog sitting next to each other, with a bird on top of the dog’s head. It was adorable.

The man standing next to the sign however, was godly looking.

“No, fucking way,” you said, taking advantage of the fact that he was looking at his phone to stare at him.

The fact that his hair was dyed wasn’t shocking – you had partially expected that considering Taehyung was always dying his – but the mix of pink and orange hues suited Jimin so perfectly that it appeared natural on him. The sunlight glinted off of the silver chained earring he wore along with the silver rings on his fingers, all while standing out in a black t-shirt and jeans despite it being warm out. To top it all off, an orange cream rose flower crown that matched his hair color perfectly, was carefully placed on his head to resemble a halo, and he held on to a spare in his free hand.

Taehyung had completely, and utterly, forgotten to mention that his single friend, was insanely hot.

Maybe…maybe that’s not him, you thought, carefully wetting your lips as you walked over to him. Maybe this is some other guy, standing right where Taehyung had said, and was waiting for someone else.

He slipped his phone into his pocket before you were able to reach him and looked up, meeting to meet your gaze. The wire framed sunglasses he wore were tinted with pink lenses.

“Hi,” he said. His voice was soft and gentle, putting your nerves at ease as he smiled widely when you got closer. “You’re Taehyung’s neighbor, right?”

You shyly smiled, nodding as you supplied your name, which only helped to make the corner of Jimin’s eyes crinkle as he repeated your name. To you, your name was just that, a name. Nothing more and nothing less. But hearing he say it, it was like a pretty melody slipping out of his mouth.

Jimin held up the spare flower crown, pressing his lips together as he chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got you one. Is it okay if I…?”

“Of course,” you answered. It was sweet that he had gotten one for you, and as he stepped closer to put it on your head, you felt your cheeks warming up at how close he was. You were even able to catch a whiff of his cologne, just the faintest scent that wasn’t overwhelming like how some people tended to bathe in perfume.

“They’re roses,” Jimin explained, adjusting the crown so it sat on your head like his. “Orange roses. I had to ask for them specifically in case any of the animals tried eating them. Roses at least, are not as poisonous as a lot of other flowers.”

“They’re still toxic to them though, right?”

Jimin leaned back, quirking an eyebrow as his smile softened to grin. “Well, I don’t recommend eating them, for either animals or humans. They’ll probably make you sick...”

“He’s a smartass just like us,” Kayla interrupted, grinning as she handed you back your phone.

Laughing, you nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he can be. But he’s just, one of the sweetest guys I’ve met.” Double tapping your phone, the lock screen revealed itself to be a picture of Jimin. You had taken it one day when you went and visited him at the shelter. He had been holding one of the calico cats, even rubbing his nose against hers, and your heart melted at the sight. Now your heart melted every time you turned on your phone.

“And he really has no idea?”

The room fell silent then. Which wasn’t surprising considering that the two of you were introverts at heart, but together, you were loud and proud. Add in coffee and the entire world better watch out.

“Jimin’s seen me check my blood,” you slowly answered. The phone screen went black when you didn’t swipe it. “He saw the meter one day, so I explained that with my family history, that I have it as a way to monitor my blood.”

Usually, you had been so good about hiding your meter and needles when Jimin came around to your home. For some reason on that day, it had slipped your mind and the next thing you knew, Jimin was holding it up and asking about it.

You weren’t outright lying. The family history wasn’t that decent, and you did have to check your blood, so it was more of a partial truth. Maybe it was because he had seemed curious and interested in the item, but ever since that day, guilt had been gnawing away at your heart. You were still avoiding the truth, and if you wanted this relationship to work out, the only way it could would be if you told him.

Looking away from the coffee, you pressed your lips together upon seeing the way Kayla was gazing at you, her eyes softening as she opened and closed her mouth repeatedly. There were no words needed however. You knew that it wasn’t going to end well if you remained silent, but the lingering fear was still there.

What if it was too much for Jimin? What if after you told him, he decided that it wasn’t worth it? That you, weren’t worth it?

It was all just…terrifying.

“You know,” Kayla gently said, reaching out and reassuringly squeezed your hand. “If for some reason, it doesn’t work out…Bailey and I got a spare room for you to have.”

She had offered you the spare room more times than you could remember, especially after graduation, but you loved the town you grew up in. It was home and had everything you always wanted. But you squeezed her hand back tightly, looking up at her with a smile.

“I thought that was Bailey’s room?”

“Oh, it is. She’s fucking spoiled rotten. You’re the only human being I’d sacrifice my queen-sized bed for a bunk bed.”

Laughing, you shook your head as Kayla joined in. Even Bailey tried barking at the sudden noise.

You had to tell Jimin the truth. There was no if, ands, or buts about it. For right now, you were willing to pretend for a little bit longer, wanting to savor in his love before it all came crashing down.

You leaned over Jimin, stretching your hand out for the wine glass on the coffee table, his palm sliding down your back to your hip as you moved about. When you settled back against his side, the wine glass in hand, his chest shook as he chuckled when you tried to take a sip only to realize that you would have to sit up to get a decent drink.

“Oh shush,” you murmured, lightly swiping at his shoulder.

It only made Jimin giggle even more though, and a glance at his own wine glass that was sitting on the wooden floor by the couch revealed it to be empty. You were still on your first, knowing full well that there was a chance that a glass of your beloved Witching Hour Red Blend wine might spike your blood sugar, but Jimin had finished his first one within a half hour after arriving for dinner.

Not that you were going to judge. It was Friday night, neither of you had work tomorrow, and it was so damn good. There was no harm in letting loose and indulging in the fun adult drinks.

His keys were on the coffee table next to the black wine bottle along with his phone, and you must have eyed them for longer than you thought because next thing you knew, his hand was trailing up your back as he pushed himself up, capturing your attention.

“Sleepover?” Jimin said, locks of his pink hair falling into his gaze.

Smiling, you hummed in agreement, partially relieved that he wouldn’t go out driving, and partially thriving at the idea of waking up next to him tomorrow morning.

“Good, that means I can do this then…”

You frowned at first, suddenly gasping as the glass clinked against the rings on his fingers when he took your glass and raised it to his lips, successfully drinking about half of it in one gulp.

“You have your own glass,” you whined, pouting at the small amount he had left for you.

Jimin only grinned, setting the glass down on the table before pulling you close until he was able to claim you for a kiss. His lips tasted rich like cherries, and whether it was the wine talking or not, but he felt more intoxicating than anything you’ve ever had.

He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip before slipping in, his arms wrapping around your waist as the kiss grew in intensity, your hands unashamedly going under his t-shirt to roam up his body. Before you were able to crawl on top of him, he broke the kiss.

“No offense,” Jimin said, kissing your forehead to make up for suddenly stopping. “But your couch sucks to have sex on.”

That put a halt to where you mind had been going, recalling the one time the two of you ended up fucking on the couch. It had been rushed and both of you were too horny to even think about going to the bedroom.

“Yeah,” you agreed, giggling as you stood, taking the bottle and slipping your own glass between your fingers. With a coy smile, you walked backwards to your bedroom. “Good thing I have a fucking awesome bed though.”

His laughter filled the room as he swiped up his own glass, hurrying after you, and not just because you were holding the rest of wine hostage with the promise of sex, but because you were the one sweetly carrying his heart.

Blinking your eyes open, you frowned as you stared up at the ceiling, cold sweat making your hair stick to your forehead, the sheets wet underneath your back. You glanced to your side, the bright red numbers of the clock reading 3:00 A.M in the dark room, and on your right, Jimin’s soft snores reassured you that he was still asleep.

So why were you wide awake?

With careful movements, you moved so you were sitting on the edge of the bed, ignoring how the air hit your wet back. It was as if someone had turned up the heat despite it being summer. Everything was pointing towards a bad dream, it wouldn’t have been the first time that you woke up from a nightmare, unable to recall it but be drenched in sweat. It was with that mindset that you leaned down to pick up Jimin’s shirt, slipping it on to go to the bathroom, but the moment you stood on your own feet, the world slanted.

You barely caught yourself against the wall as you stumbled forward, feeling lost in a haze as you kept walking until you felt the sharp coldness of wooden floors on the bottom of your feet. The faint glow of the orange nightlight in a socket was blurry, acting as a guide as you stumbled around, trying to reach the kitchen table.

The meter. You needed your meter.

Head heavy, your heart raced in your chest when you suddenly felt the floor underneath you. A sharp pain slicing through your hip and a harsh whack had your leg aching, but it cleared away the haze, allowing you to think as you leaned against what you felt to be the couch.

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness but you didn’t dare risk standing, but you couldn’t just sit there. There was nothing within your reach for you to grab and make noise. The last time something like this had happened was back in high school, and that had been when you ended up in the hospital. Whimpering, your body felt heavy as you tried to move, the soft pap sound of footsteps echoing in the short hallway barely catching your attention.

“Baby? I heard a thud, you okay?”

The light suddenly came on, burning your eyes as you tried to move, but like when you had first stood up, your head felt twenty pounds heavier, forcing you to lean back against the couch.

“What the fuck? Baby?!”

Jimin’s feet slammed against the floor as he hurried to sit in front of you, eyes wide awake as he cupped your cheek and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you to rest against his chest. His fingers were blissfully cold compared to your heated skin, and for several moments, all you could focus on was his touch, unable to hear him call out your name several times.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shakily inhaled as you tried to focus and ignore the way the world seemed to suddenly tilt again. “My meter,” you said, your voice hoarse. “I need to check my blood. Something…something’s wrong.”

Vaguely you pointed towards the kitchen table, but luckily, Jimin had seen you place the meter there on multiple occasions. After leaning you against the couch again, he hurried to the table, pushing random notebooks and mail out of the way to find the purple bag. With a tug at the zipper, it revealed the meter and pen you needed.

“Hey baby, stay awake, please.” Jimin said, gently touching the side of your face, still holding on to the bag and its contents. Despite having watched you use them; he didn’t understand how to work the machine.

Maneuvering his way behind you once again, his legs were on either side of you as he pulled you to his chest. The shirt you wore was damp and he tried to move your hair off your neck and forehead.

It took a few moments, hands fumbling as you put a test strip into the meter and using the pen to prick your finger, the blood pooling up without even having to squeeze the area. The screen beeped as it calculated the glucose level, beeping again with a final result.

“It says fifty,” Jimin read aloud. “Is that…is that not good?”

“No,” you said, eyes wide as you stared at the meter, knowing that it would get worse if it got any lower. “It’s too low, I need…sugar. Orange juice, ice cream, something.”

Lifting your hand up to the arm of the chair, you tried to pull yourself up to get something, but Jimin’s heart raced at the prospect of you trying to walk around in this state, so he held you tighter to keep you on the ground and stood up himself.

“I’ll get it,” he said. He didn’t even give you a chance to argue. Instead he hurried to get the food you had mentioned, already figuring that you needed stuff that either had natural sugars, or were found in the junk food.

His arms were full with food and dishes when he came back, not knowing what exactly you wanted or would be best for this situation. Even though he wanted to help out, wanted to make this easier and go away, he had no idea what to do. Never in his life had he come across a situation that was like this. All he knew was that from the way you were moving so slow and how there was little to no color to your skin, this wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t how you wanted to tell Jimin. Out of every scenario that you’ve mulled over, this wasn’t even in the top twenty. To find you in a state like this so soon in the relationship must be a scene out of a nightmare for him.

Seeing the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream he had gotten out, you reached over and grabbed it along with the spoon. The treat was rarely touched since it was stashed away for special occasions that you treated yourself to, but this time you took a spoonful of the Half Baked delight, wishing that this was a chance where you could relax and enjoy it.

While you were eating that spoonful, Jimin quietly removed himself from you. He didn’t speak as he went into the bathroom, the water running loudly in the otherwise silent house before it was turned off just as quickly, and returned to his place behind you. It was without a word that he gently gathered your hair, bringing it into the messy bun that you always threw it up in when the two of you decided on having a lazy day. The task at hand was almost all but forgotten when the cold cloth was set on the back of your neck.

The gesture itself had your eyes stinging, the reality of everything suddenly crashing around you and how this could have gone if Jimin wasn’t here. The shirt was originally Jimin’s and while his clothes usually hung on you, had been clinging to your skin and making it impossible for you to forget about. It hadn’t been the biggest concern you had at the moment, which forced you to put it to the back of your mind for the time being.

A stray whimper escaped your lips, capturing Jimin’s attention as you set the ice cream container down to cover your face with your hands, silencing the cries and trying to hide from him. He wasn’t running away or staring at you like something was wrong, nor was he accusing you of lying and deceiving him. Instead, he simply rested his chin on your shoulder, leaving soft kisses on your neck and cheeks.

“Don’t cry baby,” Jimin murmured, tilting his head to add a kiss to your shaking shoulders. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, let’s get your blood sugar where it needs to be.”

As reassuring as that was, it only made you cry harder, the tears slipping through your fingers and dripping on to your thighs. He was right. You needed to focus on your blood sugar, but his soft whispers and the way his hands gently rubbed and squeezed your legs meant so much more.

For the first time in so long, a guy wasn’t disgusted by you. Instead he was here, doing the things that he could to help, and he was loving you.

When you finally felt like you could keep going, you sniffed and lifted your head, the lightest of touches caressing your cheek had your heart thumping. Again, you checked your blood. It went up ten points, but you sighed, and scooped out another spoonful of the ice cream in an attempt to raise it. It would probably be sky high by the time morning arrived, but it wasn’t going up fast enough at the moment.

Over the course of an hour, you sat on the floor in-between Jimin’s legs, checking your blood every ten minutes to see if it had gone up, and alternating between spoonsful of ice cream, cups of orange juice and peanut butter crackers, a combination that had your nose scrunching up every time.

Jimin stayed the entire time, only getting up to put away some of the food that you weren’t eating. Even after that he retook his spot and held you just tight enough to remind you that he wasn’t letting you go.

By the time it finally reached one hundred, you pushed the container of ice cream away from you and leaned back into Jimin’s embrace. It was still low. No longer did you feel out of control of your body, the sweat had dried to your skin and if you were to stand, you were certain that there wouldn’t be any more stumbling on your part. Although you doubted that Jimin would let you out of his sight for the next few days.

Neither of you spoke right away.

Wide awake in the dead of night, apparently not seeing any other option, Jimin reached out for the ice cream and took a spoonful for himself. The gesture itself was so simple, so ordinary, as if the two of you always woke up at the hour dedicated to artists who found solace under the stars and moon, to share a pint of ice cream on the living room floor, that you giggled.

Raising an eyebrow, the corner of Jimin’s mouth curled upwards at the sound of your laugh. He hadn’t realized that this scare would make him miss such a pretty sound so much. Licking the rest of the spoon clean as he maintained eye contact with you, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively to make you laugh once more.

As much as you would rather spend the rest of the time making each other laugh and eating to your heart’s desire, you knew that he was owed an explanation to everything that’s happened.

“I was diagnosed in high school,” you said. Your gaze fell from his face to the floor, only then noticing that Jimin didn’t have any pants on. He had come rushing out in only his boxers and stayed in them this entire time. “I’m a type two diabetic, which means that my body produces the insulin that it needs, but for some reason my body doesn’t process it and rejects it.”

Jimin patiently listened to your explanation. As you spoke, the invisible weight that had settled on your shoulders when you decided to hide this part of your life was being chipped away at, piece by piece until it felt like you were free. The nerves didn’t fly away, instead they settled nicely in your stomach for the time being, not making themselves known until you closed your mouth, waiting for his reaction.

He took a deep breath, moving his hand to run it through his hair. “Does this happen a lot? Your levels dropping like this?”

“No. This…” you set a hand on his thigh, shaking your head. “I don’t know what happened. I took my shot before dinner, and then I took my night one.”

“Baby, I never saw you take any shot.”

Pressing your lips together, you closed your eyes, the butterflies having found the perfect moment to take flight right then and there. This was it, the moment you had been dreading this entire time. “I… I had my bag with my insulin pens and needles hiding in the bathroom.” You admitted.

His eyes scanned over you, making a mental note that you wouldn’t look at him and how your kept on rubbing your arm. Suddenly it made sense why you were always sneaking off to the restroom anytime the two of you went out to eat, and how you’d tap your nails and watch for the waiter when it took longer than you expected for the food to come out. “How long have you been hiding this?”

“Since we started dating.”

Jimin’s arms tightened around your waist, the reassuring weight of his head on your shoulder was now gone, and in that split second, your heart stopped. He was moving away, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be with you anymore, he—

Suddenly you were no longer staring at the floor in front of you, but Jimin’s bare chest until his fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to look him straight on. His dark brown eyes that usually disappeared when he was smiling and laughing, appeared to be drowning in the tears that slid down his cheeks.

“Why…why wouldn’t you tell me?” He asked, his voice light and cracking with every word while his bottom lip trembled. “What if I wasn’t here? You…you could have been on the floor until morning. And if this is how you get when it’s this low, it would have been worse if you waited to get help, or until someone found you.”

His hands were roaming around your back as he spoke, unable to settle down, like he had to constantly reassure himself that you were conscious and talking to him. It was only when he shook his head, a soft coo leaving his lips as he cupped your cheeks to run his fingers underneath your eyes, that you realized that you were crying too.

Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against yours, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that you had hid this from him. All he could think about was you being alone when this happened. It tore at him the possibility of you ending up in the hospital, or worse, you laying on the ground until you either made your way to a phone, or someone stumbling upon you on accident.

It plagued his heart, making it ache as he tilted his head to gently kiss your forehead. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

It was such a simple reason for why you didn’t, but one that was without a doubt, rooted in your own selfish desire to protect yourself. Most importantly, to protect your heart from having to deal with constantly being let down by the men you let into your life. The idea had sprung out of fear and doubt, but every day that you spent with Jimin was enough to set those thoughts aside.

All the silly dates. The terrifying night where he let you help him dye his hair, the way his fingers traced your body with paths he long since memorized, and an afternoon where the two of you stayed inside while rain pattered against the windows when he suddenly said I love you, were enough to make you realize that Jimin wasn’t going run away.

Your eyes stung and tears slipped faster down your cheeks as you moved to press your forehead against his chest, his arms hugging your tightly. There was nothing for you to grip on to except his body, but you held on to him anyway.

Sensing that this ran deeper than you were ready to admit, Jimin gently kissed your cheek, resting his head against yours as he held you, softly stroking your back. His own back was sore from being hunched over for the last hour or so, and sitting on the floor was starting to leave an ache in his ass, but he was going to stay right there. As long as you needed him, he was going to be there, wherever and whenever you wanted him.

“It’s okay baby,” he said once your tears slowed down in volume. “We’re in this together, I promise.”

Those words had you wanting to cry all over again. For the first time in so long, someone wanted to stay with you, to help you, to love you for you, and that included the fact that you needed to constantly check your blood sugar and take insulin with your meals, and an additional one before bed. It was terrifying, a first, but so freeing at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shakily kissing his chest in an attempt to fix some of the damage your secret has done. “I’m so sorry Jimin.”

He didn’t speak. Instead, he kissed your cheek again, his arms tightening just the slightest. Condensation from the ice cream was pooling on the floor and the mini candy bars that he had found were scattered about. Your meter was right beside him. Outside, the birds that had made their homes in the trees near your apartment were singing their sweet lungs out, a noise that usually made both of you want to bury your faces in the pillows. This time, it had Jimin looking towards the bay window and the sheer yellow curtains.

It was still dark out, but within an hour, the night sky would give birth to morning.

Glancing down, he saw that your legs were already wrapped around his waist. With no other reason not to, Jimin carefully stood up, using one arm to pull himself up by the couch and the other keeping a hold on you. He ignored the yelps and questions that left your mouth.

Instead, he settled down on the bay window and stretched his legs out in front of him, only loosening his grip on you when he was certain you wouldn’t slip and fall on the ground.

“What are you doing?” You said, cautiously letting go of Jimin to straighten up. It wasn’t the first time that he ever picked you up without warning, in fact, his habit of doing so was close to becoming normal. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t like a warning in advance occasionally.

He leaned backwards against the window pane, drawing his right leg up until he was able to prop his arm on his knee as he smiled at you. “Have you ever seen the sun rise?”

The question was so random, so opposite of everything that had been happening for the last hour and yet, your mind honed in on it and took advantage of the its simplicity. Shaking your head, Jimin’s smile grew as he tapped his thigh. His own way to gesture for you to turn and rest against his chest that you had learned early on in the relationship.

“The ice cream’s going to melt.”

You turned around however, once again leaning backwards against Jimin’s chest as his free arm encircled your body, pulling you firming in place.

“We’ll take care of that later. We’ll take care of everything later, I promise. Right now, I just want to watch the sun rise, with you.”

“You’re not mad at me?” You suddenly asked, staring at the early morning sky.

The other apartments and houses in the neighborhood were nothing more but shadows for the time being, and you weren’t entirely sure if the living room was facing the east or not. You didn’t tell him that though.

“No baby,” Jimin softly said, staring at the sky as well. “I’m a bit disappointed, and honestly, I’m still a little scared about what happened. But I’m not mad at you.”

Feeling his chest lift with a deep breath, you relaxed in his embrace. This wasn’t the end of the conversation. He deserved a real explanation for why you never told him, and he would get it this time.

As you shifted slightly, Jimin adjusted his arm with your movements, a soft chuckle escaping when you played with some of the silver rings that he had forgotten to take off before going to sleep.

“I love you.”

Your fingers paused, watching his fingers move and lace themselves with yours, calming your heart so it was no longer racing. Any butterflies that had been hanging around in-case there was a to be a second round of sudden doubt finally settled down, allowing you to enjoy this moment with Jimin. Instead of fear, a blanket of content draped itself on top of you.

“I love you too,” you said, bringing his hand up to your lips to kiss.

Somewhere out there, a bird was returning the melody of another song under the moonlight, and running on only a few hours of sleep wasn’t ideal. While it wasn’t the night that you planned or expected to have, as you waited for the sun to rise, Jimin occasionally running his thumb over your knuckles, there wasn’t anywhere else you wanted to be.

It wasn’t planned, nor was the leading up to it ideal, but it was pretty damn perfect.

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tbhwhocaresanymore · 4 years

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Nancy Drew 2x1

ONE OF YOU apparently ran to @kat--writes, or as my friend and I call her Tumblr Kat, and snitched that I had not yet posted my Nancy Drew premiere review. I promised to get it up by today and yes it is technically after midnight but the sun has not yet risen, so please find my thoughts under the cut.

Before I do anything else let me just say I will never stop appreciating the continuous book Easter eggs the show writers drop. Nancy mentioning how she learned that trick with the mirror in “a bungalow mystery” when she did in fact pull that exact same trick in The Bungalow Mystery? Iconic.

Now that’s out of the way, I’m going to do something I’ve never really done before and start off with the negatives. Guys, I was underwhelmed.

Not by the episode itself, the episode was great. It picked up right where we left off and continued into the mystery of the Aglaeca, the cast was engaging, the horror was chilling, the story kept unfolding. The problem is, it was great as any other regular episode, it was less great as a season premiere. I waited TEN MONTHS for this episode. And granted I understand that ND didn’t get to finish off its first season how they wanted, but they have had, I repeat, ten months to plan this. The season 1 premiere, for all its issues, did exactly what a season premiere is supposed to do. It established relationships, a season-long arc, character trajectories, and even a couple of smaller plots. We saw Nancy and her dad were on the rocks, she and George didn’t get along in high school, Bess is rich but living in a van, Tiffany Hudson was murdered and the crew are suspects, George is sleeping with Ryan, Ace is working for the police, and we found the bloody Lucy Sable dress in Nancy’s attic, to name but a few.

You guys, that is a lot of plot lines. And the writers explored and solved every single one of them over the course of the season.

Now we have the season 2 premiere. The crew tries to find a mirror to fight the Aglaeca, meets a mouthy dude, and takes a break from the Aglaeca to hide from the Gorham wraith. (Gorham is 100% a play on Gotham fight me.) Like yes there is more if you squint, but aside from that nothing all that major really happened. Mr. Hudson is setting up a defense, but we knew that already. Ryan wants a relationship with Nancy and is pissed at Carson for keeping her a secret, but we knew that already. The new head cop doesn’t trust Nancy or the crew at all, but, again, we knew that already.

But since this was still a good episode even if a lackluster premiere, I will still give you some positives.

The Gorham wraith you guys, oh my god the horror was fantastic. Nancy Drew is really looking every other magic show’s super special effects in the eye as it hits them over the the head with a folding chair made by their costuming and makeup department. The scarecrow coming to life, banging on the back of the bus, crawling in after Nancy? On point. I was on the edge of my seat.

Ryan I know you are an asshole and your character arc is a work in progress but kidnapping? Are you serious right now? “Your suicidal girlfriend begged us to hide and take care of her child right before jumping off a cliff. Also I didn’t even know you were the father.” “Omg how dare you. Time for BLACKMAIL.” It’ll be interesting to see how this whole Ryan v Carson thing plays out. I suspect maybe Carson will become like an example father figure to Ryan, teach him how to be good to Nancy. Something like “if you’re serious about being a father lesson number one is it’s not about you anymore, it’s about her. And you sending me to prison won’t just hurt me it’ll hurt Nancy.” I think that would be a nice parallel, Kate was Lucy’s guidance counselor, and now Carson will be Ryan’s parental counselor/therapist/whatever.

I’m going to be completely honest here, I totally forgot Nick and George had not actually told Nancy they are together. No idea how long this is going to go on for, I suspect not that long, but maybe up until like episode 5 or 6. I do think it would be fun if Nancy found out in like the absolute worst way possible. Like here is my worst/best case scenario. I know Nancy is supposed to have some kind of thing with Gil so let’s say they hook up a couple times and he burns her, as he probably will, and Nancy goes to Nick cause she’s upset and needs to talk, and when he opens the door thinking it’s the pizza guy he is shirtless and George is in the bed behind him. Unlikely, but fun to imagine. But however they do it, all the Nick and George fans will undoubtedly get some fun footage of them sneaking around, so enjoy guys.

All the Nancy and Ace shippers are also getting good material, even if I want to grab Ace by the shoulders and physically shake him.

Nancy: I can’t let you guys help me summon the Aglaeca, there could be really bad consequences.

Crew: Psh, consequences? What consequences? We have the power of FRIENDSHIP.

*Aglaeca sends them all death visions*

Ace: How dare you drag me into this Nancy I can’t believe we’re all going to die because of you.

LIKE BRUH. ACE. MY GUY. If you could maybe use your considerable brain power to pull your head out of your ass for TWO SECONDS I would greatly appreciate it. Thanks. But aside from that, their scene at the end? Poetic cinema. The slow burn is strong with this one. Even if I do have faith she will eventually find her way back to Nick aaaaaaaaah

Not sure how I feel about the twins yet. I know they were in some other ND-verse book series, but tbh I only ever read the Nancy Drew books. I never delved into the Hardy Boys or anything else, I was a Drew girl all the way. I do think the writers could maybe have done a better job introducing us to Gil and making us like him. Like they were definitely going for the Han Solo type I feel, and George being all “wow the Bobsey twins are hardcore” as he ups the price while literally dying. Um, George, no, the Bobsey twins are fucking morons, or at least Mr. Diabetic over here is. It says a lot that Amanda had only two lines of dialogue and I liked her considerably more than Gil. But who knows, maybe they’ll grow on me. And they did mention their family used to work for the Hudsons, I would bet good money they know about more than one skeleton that’s been stuffed in the closet.

This paragraph right here is for me and the like two other Drewson shippers in the fandom. Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the first meeting flashback oh my god. I was dying. I rewatched it ten times. I am in love. The way they both just sort of stared at each other, the way Nancy clearly feels a certain amount of nostalgia for him and what they had. I am deceased. Honest to god I don’t care how many Nick x George and Nancy x Ace moments the writers throw at us, just as long as I continue to get crumbs like that I am good. Have faith guys.

And finally, oh my dear, talented writers. I would like to know when exactly you are planning on pulling my three most favorite women out of whatever floorboard you have stuffed them under. I WOULD LIKE DEAD LUCY, VICTORIA, AND HANNAH GRUEN TO PLEASE STAND UP. Yes I know Hannah Gruen is in the next episode but the wait is excruciating. And if the last time we saw Dead Lucy was going to be in the courtroom scene, her standing in the doorway as Nancy read her suicide note? I am going to mcfreaking lose it.

Well that’s all for today. Sorry this took so long, I guess I just wasn’t all that inspired by this premiere episode. But hopefully I will get the next one finished much quicker. And with that, I leave you until Wednesday the 27th when Nancy Drew 2x2, The Reunion of Lost Souls airs. See ya

#Nancy Drew cw #Nancy Drew #the search for the midnight wraith #Bess Marvin #George Fan #Ned Nickerson #Ace #Nancy x Ace #George x Nick #Nancy x Nick #Drewson #Ryan Hudson #Dead Lucy #writers where is dead lucy

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bleached-d-soul · 5 years

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Bitter Chocolate: Thief of Heart

Commission for my good friend @the-wayward-arc

Emerald entered the room, her world still a blur. As she flopped on her bed, the former thief quickly exchanged a couple of messages with her teammates. Cinder was out restocking their supplies. Mercury was off doing some dumb shit as always. And Neo was busy doing whatever she always did.

Which left her alone for the rest of the day here.

She took an opportunity to get as much out of this as possible.

"Aaah!"

Emerald cried into her pillow, as the sensation of orgasm washed over her and her juices squirted all over her sheets. How many times has she brought herself to climax by now? Five? Seven? Whatever the number, it was not nearly enough.

The momentary absence of thought brought by orgasm was gone and now her head was again filled with the visions of him.

When Cinder told her to spy on their future rivals, Emerald didn't think much of that. Like any other team, they came here to win and earn some prestige for their academy. The cash prize also was great. And it's not like anyone would give them much grief over it. Studying your competition was a given when the whole Remnant would be watching.

And just like any job, Emerald did hers with the best of her ability. Mercury was studying the fighting styles of various individuals. Rough data, as was fit for his mindset. He would point out strengths, weaknesses and the way their rivals telegraphed thier movements. But Emerald? She studied something far more crucial. The minds and hearts of their competition.

From Beacon, their biggest challenge would come from teams RWBY and JNPR. The former had a solid lineup. Ruby Rose who specialized in long-range attacks and could get a decent distance with his Semblance. Her sister, a straight-up brawler, with the power to turn damage into even more brute force and fire. The Schnee heiress whose Semblance allowed her to manipulate the fighting circumstances just as effectively. And, of course, the sneaky Belladonna who was fast and slippery enough to give them some trouble.

It would take some effort and extra preparation, but they could be hanlded provided Cinder adjusted their plans according to the matches.

The other team - JNPR - would be less of a problem if taken out early. Many of students from Haven were looking out for the team. Not because of any accomplishments or rumors. But rather, simply because it was the team the Invincible Girl of Mistral was on. Half of the students were looking to make the team pay for stealing their Champion. Emerald and her team were in the other half.

The ones wanting to crush the Invincible Girl and her precious Beacon brats.

And how easy the redhead made it for Emerald.

Seriously, she might as well have worn a shirt that said, "I am crushing hard on my leader". Honestly, it was kind of pathetic. Unlike Cinder, who knew how embraced power and prestige, Nikos hid away from it. And unlike her leader, Emerald noted, Nikos had absolutely zero idea on how to get what she desired in something besides the brutal fighting tournaments.

Jaune Arc, the oblivious blonde that stole the redhead's heart, was the chink in the Invincible Girl's armor. A dumb, awkward and honestly naive chink that Emerald was not above exploiting. She needed some dirt on him and then, boom, the whole team would go down like a house of cards. But what kind of dirt could she dig up on him? It had to be something serious enough to keep him scared. But small enough to avoid any trouble with the authorities.

In the end, it all came down to the same thing that caused the downfall of any man she ever knew,

Their pride.

The boy had no reputation as a fighter or a student. So that left her with the bright idea of sneaking into the showers. Getting pics of his tiny little wiener and dangling it in front of him until he agreed to stomp all over the Nikos heart. Easy, peasy, lemon sq- Shit.

And shit it was, Emerald thought, as she stared. And stared and kept staring as both her lower and upper mouths drooled over the sight of the boy in the shower. The long and thick rod of white meat almost reaching the boy's - the man's - knees was too big to be called anything less than a fucking bitchbreaker. Her plan went poof and Emerald rushed to her room. Before she even knew, she was fingering herself to the pictures she took.

They were no good as blackmail material. Oh Gods, if Cinder found out about her failure-

Forget about Cinder, the voice of her libido hissed. How do we get ourselves a piece of that fuckmeat?

Now was not the time. She wouldn't abandon all her plans to chase after a piece of that cock.

How about a whole thing then? her lust bargained. With a soft and hungry chuckle, it added, We could easily make Cinder come around too. Just tie her up and withhold that bitchbreaker until the bitch breaks.

That was actually a good idea. Not taunting her leader but the idea of stealing Jaune away from the girl. Nikos was strong as a fighter. But as a girl? She was nothing. Yes, she was shy and quiet. Always bottling it all up and keeping it in. She would have to watch her beloved blonde get taken away and slip up. And thus the Invincible Girl would fall. And Emerald would secure herself a nice and hung boytoy for the rest of the festival.

She licked her lips and then pushed a finger inside her mouth. As she closed her eyes, Emerald allowed herself to dream. Of a wild and rough fucking. Of sucking and choking on something much thicker and harder than her finger. Of the poor little Nikos sitting by and crying as she watched the love of her life give all the passion and attention to someone like Emerald.

And with that thought, Emerald drifted away into the sweet lustful night.

When Jaune came to Beacon, he had clear plans on what he wanted to do. He wanted to learn how to fight. How to become a real hero like his ancestors. Maybe get a girlfriend while he was at it, too. The first part of his dream was coming along smoothly. He was getting better at handling his weapon, at least. And, for just a brief moment, he dared hope the part of finding a girlfriend would also be a success.

"Nghh, w-wait! Pull out, please pull out, Jaune!"

Only to run into a wall on that one.

Jaune swallowed a groan and proceeded to do just that. He knew a whole army of guys who would willingly give up their arms, legs and left testicle to be in his position. One on one with someone as hot and cool as Pyrrha, her legs spread wide and open for him. And like a boy in a candy shop, he went in to dig in and indulge in his gluttonous lust.

And just like that night, three weeks ago, they didn't go further than a tip.

Seriously, he saw Pyrrha tank Nora's bombshots. How was the Invincible Girl unable to handle some softcore sex? Jaune shook his head, refusing to let his sexual frustration get better of him. Even if they kept it secret for now, Pyrrha was a wonderful girlfriend. Kind and loving. What kind of jackass would give it up just because they couldn't have sex right now?

"Sorry, Jaune," she rested her head on his shoulder. "I thought I had it this time."

"No problem , Pyr," he smiled gently and gave her a kiss on the lips. Chaste, as everything with them for now. "Just like fighting, it is just a matter of time and effort. We'll get there soon."

Pyrrha snorted, a small cute quirk of hers that she showed only to him.

"You are right. Before we know, we will make each other stronger. I will make you into a big strong huntsman," she traced her hands against his erect shaft. "And you will make me into an insatiable size queen."

Jaune blushed slightly. Even when she tried talking dirty, Pyrrha was too adorable. A small - ugly and venomous part of him - rolled its eyes at that. Cute and adorable was good for her Mistralian fanbase but it wanted more. It wanted dirty and rough fucking. No handholding bullshit or whispering diabetes-inducing nothings. That lustful and angry part of him hungered for the pussy that he could reshape after his cock. The ass that would take it all and cry for more. The mouth that could gobble his cock up and drown in his semen. He wanted-

"Sorry, Pyrrha," he said, brushing her hand away and speaking just a tiny bit colder than he intended. "I think I need to take a quick shower."

The girl blushed, fully aware what he meant. Yes, she was a good girlfriend. And she knew how much discomfort she caused her lover with her... insufficiency for now. She smiled and told him to come back soon. She might not have been able to pleasure him properly but she took small comfort in keeping the bed warm for him and cuddling with his progressively stronger body.

As the door closer behind, Pyrrha laid down and rubbed her sore pussy gently. She would get it all soon. She was sure of it.

Jaune entered the showers, barely able to restrain himself. He was lucky enough to have found this place when hiding from Cardin. A small abandoned part of Beacon that used to function as showering rooms in its earlier days. Luckily enough, still operational. And lonely enough for him to rub it all out. If you thought attending the school with hot girls in tight clothes was a godsend, you clearly were not Jaune Arc.

The water cascading down his flesh washed away the unrest and frustration. As he closed his eyes, he let his mind drift off. The weeks of having the hottest girlfriend yet being unable to be intimate with her drove Jaune back to the pornsites that he had thought he would no longer need. In the worlds of digital porn, he found the way to relieve his pent-up lust.

In, particular, he hungered for the girls with thick thighs, wide hips and bubble butts. Did he sound like a complete pervert? Yes, so what? In all those videos, watching the girls just take foot-long cocks down their wanting tight asses drove him over the edge. Alas, Pyrrha was slow to take to the traditional missionary three weeks into their relationship. How was she ever going to agree to or endure anal?

With a guttural grunt, he released his load, the thick white cream hitting the cold wall. This was good. Better, at least. He was content to stand under the shower for just a while longer though. Just enough to relax enough so that when he came back to their room, he could fall alseep as soon as possible.

"Oh."

The single sound sent shivers down his spine.

"Sorry, I didn't know someone else was here."

Jaune looked at the girl and instinctively turned away. She was not hideous or unpleasant to look at. The opposite, in fact. The exotic dark skin. The delicious white hips. And the thick thighs that begged to be worshipped. Fuck, why did someone like her have to come here?

"Hey, don't be shy," the girl chuckled and brushed her light green hair. "Nothing that I have never seen before."

She gave him an appreciative look.

"Although, yours is much bigger than the ones I saw."

He refused to speak. As the mystery girl began showering herself, Jaune went through the steps of his quick escape plan. Stream away the soaps. Run out. Never look back. Sounded easy. In fact, it was easy. But sometimes, some things that were easy and good for you were not what you wanted. Apples and other fruits were sweet and good for you.

And yet, sometimes you just wanted the chocolate. Sweet and dark, melting in your mouth. And it seemed, as his eyes refused to leave the girl's juicy glistening ass, the girl had enough chocolate for him to last a lifetime.

"Hey, blondie, can you help me wash my back, please? It's kind of hard to reach by myself."

Jaune knew what was the right thing to do. Say he was in a hurry and leave. Go back to Pyrrha and cuddle with her. But what was right and what one wanted, sadly, rarely if ever were one and the same. And Jaune, who had spent the last few weeks on edge had chpsen to do what he wanted. Plus, it was just some quick back-washing. It's not like he was cheating on Pyrrha.

"Thanks, I knew you'd help me out, Jaune."

Maybe some other day, Jaune would notice that he never gave his name to the girl. Some other day, some other scenario, he would notice that the girl's back, much like the rest of her was perfectly clean. He would notice many things were it some other day. The way her voice melted against his ears like sweet poison. The way her hand was clearly rubbing her pussy. The way she pressed herself against him. Hard.

But today, this very day, Jaune was far too busy as his hands slowly went from her back to her ass. As if he was lost in some trance, he never thought twice on that. As his hands squeezed the soft and gentle dark meat, he felt his mind going blank. Being lost to something dormant and ancient inside. The pure unadultered instinct. And Jaune, far from being the strong and commanding man he would be one day, gave in.

Turning the girl around, he paid no mind to her yelp of surprise. Or the way she smirked and her eyes burned. All he cared about was having her close and his. His fingers dug into her soft welcoming flesh. His lips crashed against hers, burning hot and wanting. Right now, Jaune was not an awkward teen who wanted to be a hero. He was a man, driven by the oldest of drives of the mankind.

Lust.

As their tongue battled for dominance, their hands wandered and explored the bodies of each other. And as Jaune was soon lost in pure lust, Emerald smirked. It was easier than she thought. She would enjoy the pride of luring the boy into her soft and beaitful trap for as long as she remained conscious enough to do so. Which was getting harder and harder as the boy quickly proved himself skilled at fanning the flames of her lust.

His strong arms showed no mercy to her ass or breasts as the blonde practically mauled them. He was lucky she was into rough play. She hated vanilla sex. Too soft. Too restrained. The real sex was the kind where you lost yourself to the animal inside you. Where such things as manners and thought were not welcome and everyone involved obeyed only their own instincts.

And Jaune was proving himself a natural at this!

She was just about to get down on her knees and inhale as much as the monster he had between his legs when suddenly he pulled away. The expression on his face was the mixture of emotions. Disbelief. Fear. Shock. Anger at himself. She turned to reach for him, only to be met with a soft apology, "I-I am sorry. This is my fauly... I- We shouldn't be doing this."

And just like that, he left. Emerald, not one to enjoy being in the dark, used her Semblance and followed him. Concealing herself from him, she eavesdropped on him calling Nikos and talking to her. From the way the two spoke, it was clear their relationship was more than a crushing girl and an oblivious boy. And it seemed the blonde wanted to make it official.

Making up for his action with me, huh? How cute.

Perhaps he thought if he made it official, she would back off. Disappear and let him and his girlfriend have a happy sweet vanilla love. And perhaps, it would work. Not because she was a secret romantic or anything of such nonsense. She simply knew when to take risks and when to fold it. And, normally, she would rather not fight someone like Nikos over a stupid boy.

But Jaune was not some stupid boy. He was a well-hung and obedient boy. And if it meant getting fucked with that monster all night long, the thief of team CRMN was more than eager to take that bet. It would take some time. It would take some effort and some planning. But she was smart. The kind of smarts you earned on the streets and carried with yourself through life.

Jaune didn't look the kind who fooled around with girls for no reason. He was no player. And when she saw him, he was busy jacking himself off to notice her watch him. Which meant that there was some trouble in paradise between the two. Clearly, not because of his size though. As gears kept turning in her head. the picture became cleaner and cleaner until there was simply no other explanation to it all.

Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl of Mistral, was a fucking pillow princess. It was quite funny, Emerald would admit. The greatest Champion of her generation and she couldn't take a dicking. The sick and twisted thought made its way into her mind. Fed by Emerald's hidden frustration and craving for power of her own, the thought grew bigger and stronger until it was a fully-formed plan.

She would not simply use Jaune to get at Pyrrha. She would make sure to break the girl and take her for herself. And obedient little Champion sounded so great. Great enough to sow the seeds of ambition and hunger within the girl's heart. Perhaps, the original plan of making Cinder kneel before her would also come to fruition given time. But for now, she had preparations to make.

And a lot of cuts to make.

"I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!" Nora smiled and sung. "Renny, i kneeeeew it!"

"Yes, Nora," Ren smiled softly. "I think everybody knows it now too."

Pyrrha blushed bright red but refused to hide her face. The smile refused to go away from her lips even if she knew she looked silly with it so wide and bright. But it was real and she refused to stop smiling no matter what. Jaune must have known she was embarrassed about not pleasuring him properly. And to show her that he loved her despite that, he told her he wanted to make things official.

It was so sweet!

"Way to go, Jaune!" Yang whistled. Her smile turned foxy and she whispered dramatically, "So when are you going to get all hot and bothered with each other, hmm? Come on, don't leave me hanging!"

Now, the smile cracked a little. A painful reminder of the reason why she wanted to keep things unofficial until she could take Jaune's cock. Before she could come up with witty and good response, Jaune came to her rescue.

"Actually, we thought about waiting until after graduation," Jaune smiled. "You know, gotta keep focus on studies and training."

"Yeah," Yang grinned. "You definitely need to focus on those, Vomit Boy."

"Hey!"

As their table returned to the kind and casual exchange of words and jokes, Pyrrha couldn't help but feel content. This was everything she wanted in her life. Friends that looked at her like at any other person. A cute boyfriend that always had her back. And, of course, the peaceful and light student life.

"Ugh, talk about having no shame."

"Gotta agree with you on this one, Weiss," Yang whistled. "Even I am not that bold."

As she caught more and more whispers, Pyrrha turned towards the source of all the confusion. Walking down the mess hall, accompanied by the hordes of lewd and hungry eyes and dirty looks, Emerald wore something that must have been a violation of the dress code. It was not the casual clothes or something particularly wild. It was a Haven Academy school uniform. White shirt. Dark jacket and skirt.

The latter two being three or four sizes too small.

Her jacket couldn't even remotely hide the tight shirt the girl choose to wrap mid-way, exposing her flat stomach. Even less could be said about her skirt, since there was so little of it she might have worn nothing at all. Hell, coming in here with just panties on would at least be ridiculous and cause confusion. But wearing the skirt so short it exposed the girl's thick ass and dark lacy panties? She was definitely showing off.

She saw the boys eat her up with their eyes. Only to get smacked or slapped by their girlfriends. Afraid of the same, she looked back up at her partner. And then sighed in relief.

"Wow, Jaune, what a gentleman you are," Yang snorted as her partner refused to look back from his breakfast. "Keep this one away from the stripper over there, Pyr. Or she might eat him up."

Pyrrha felt the anger flare inside of her. Only to instantly calm down, Jaune was not like the other boys. She knew that now. Whereas the other girls had to keep their lovers on a tight leash, Jaune had her full and absolute trust. Without another word, she brought herself clother and kissed him on the cheek. So embarrassing to do this in public. But she would bare with it because she loved Jaune so much.

So much that she missed her partner's erect cock begging to be released.

"Care to tell my why you dressed like a slut?"

Cinder's icy tone bothered Emerald little. Few things bothered her at all these days. Her mind was too busy with keeping to the plan.

"Just following your instructions, Cinder." At the confused stare, the thief proceeded with the well-rehearsed lie. "Some teams are more secretive than others. They have places where they train in secret outside the school hours. Most of them, though, are getting anxious and frustrated. And horny too. I just decided to make myself look easy enough to lure them to my trap."

"Heh," Mercury chuckled and nudged Neo. "She said 'trap'."

Emerald wondered if the asshole's dad removed his brain along with his legs. That would explain a lot.

"Hmm, not a tactic I would use," Cinder thought. Then smiled. "But if that means increasing our chances at victory, then you are free to do as you wish. Though try to seduce those fools outside the school hours. I had to have a very unpleasant talk with Goodwitch on keeping my team in line and upholding the school prestige. I swear to Gods, that woman needs to get properly laid."

As Cinder began to rant on how she would run a school, Emerald couldn't help but grin at the thought of Jaune fucking Goodwitch. The woman was a real hot piece of ass for her age. And the thought of her future boytoy breaking the other girls down for her was just so hot. All those white bitches would be left to drool and fingerfuck themselves while she rode Jaune like there was no tomorrow. Those bitches, of course, included Cinder, the loyalty to which Emerald was quickly losing.

As she was soon left alone, she started her now normal routine of watching the hardcore porn. Particularly, that of white guys like Jaune finding the pleasure fucking thick ebony beauties like her. And damn, did she enjoy staining her sheets with her juices. Once she was done with the videos though, she decided to make one herself. Tha scrolls were no good, because there was always a chance of that video leaking and getting her in some hot water.

The black market burners though? Those were gold.

Positioning herself in front of the camera, Emerald made sure to go extra hard at it. Her fingers were just a start. Then went the toys. The some tasteful lingerie and finally, the costumes. And throughout it all, she imagined all the possible scenarios in which she would be taken and in which she would take. As her body went through the motions of showing off for the video, Emerald's mind drifted away into the daydreaming world.

"Class, pay attention," Goodbitch stood proud and haughty, despite being dressed like a complete and utter whore. Her chastity belt shone as she turned towards the class,"You will be quizzed on today's lesson next week. So you better now slack off."

The students nodded and watched as Jaune and Emerald made out on her desk. Rough and bestial, those were the only words that came to mind as they watched the resident dork and the exchange student. Many men watched in jealousy, fully aware they would never compare to Jaune. The pale pillow princesses like Weiss and Ruby were left biting their lips and fingering themselves, all too painfully aware they would never be able to handle someone like Jaune.

Only the black queens like Emerald were worthy of getting that cock. And her fellow ebony huntresses would all hunt for a piece of that action.

"As you know, women like me don't deserve something as big and thick as Master Arc's cock," Glynda winced at that, feeling the burning hatred of the fellow white bitches at her. "Which is why we must practice the proper conduct as cuckqueans. Slave Nikos, demonstrate!"

Emerald grinned. And so did Jaune as the girl he once loved crawled onto the stage before the class. A collar and a locked belt her sole pieces of clothing, the girl wasted no time or words and got onto her knees. Emerald stepped aside and allowed the girl to show where she and others belonged.

Using her tits to wipe Jaune's precum. Lubing his cock up with her saliva. Never a proper blowjob, just some licking and drooling. And as she got both of them prepared, she received the only payment a cuckquean like her deserved. A harsh slap across her cheek and across her ass by Emerald and Jaune respectively.

"Now, Slave Nikos forgot that she should have thanked them immediately," Goodbitch admonished. And Emerald knew it was all to gain some extra points with her. Whatever, she would allow the older woman humiliate herself further. "Which is why she will now be allowed to try and cum only every five months instead of the two."

Pyrrha didn't protest. Didn't even seem against it. She had long since accepted her fate.

"Faster, Nikos! Faster!" Emerald yelled as she cheered the girl on. "You do wanna cum, right?"

She did. She wanted it so much. She was screaming and begging for more time. Just five more minutes. Just five fucking more minutes and she would cum! She would cum and fry her brain just a little bit more. Get lost in the haze of the lust and idiocy as she allowed her brain go dead on her. Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, she failed and the ringing of the alarm spelled her doom.

"Of, you poor little thing," Emerald grinned down at her. Without mercy, she kicked away the dildos and ripped the vibrators off her cunt. "And I even gave you another five minutes to cum. Such a waste."

She didn't. She never did. But Pyrrha knew better than argue with her. The last time she did, Emerald whipped any revolt out of her and then made her sit and watch as she indulged in everything that was once hers.

"Back into the belt, bitch. Unless we are feeling disobedient."

Emerald watched the girl whimper and pull of her belt. A true wonder of sex toy world. Strong enough to withstand huntresses. And equipped with some nice features like vibration and shocker. Not that Emerald ever allowed the girl to enjoy the former to the full. She would occasionally turn it on at the lowest setting and leave the girl like that for a week or longer.

She wouldn't turn it off until Nikos threw herself at her feet, begging to be allowed to cum.

"Jaune and I are going out to meet with Arslan and Ciel," Emerald informed. "Be sure to have our dinner ready."

And as it always went, Pyrrha would do everything perfectly. Even now, as she went from a respected and famed huntress a pathetic house slave who owned nothing to her name, she had her pride. Even as she willingly signed away everything to Jaune and Emerald, effectively becoming their property, Pyrrha did her best to satisfy her masters. Because, she believed, if she worked hard enough, one day...

One day Jaune would fuck her again.

Even as it was the tenth year he refused to give her any pleasure.

"Mistress Emerald, please me! Breed me next, please!"

""No! No, no, no! Me! I am begging you, me next, please!"

"I was the first! I deserve it above you! Mistress, please, you know I have always been loyal!"

Emerald sipped her wine as she passed a row of bound girls. From Ruby to Cinder, all the girls she knew back from Beacon were here. Tied up in the Schnee Mansion, with the official owner whimpering and whining for Jaune not to leave her. One by one, she got them all under her heel. And now here she was, the former street rat in a mansion with the other girls her slaves.

And Jaune as her Husband and Master.

"Well?" Jaune asked as he hugged her from behind. "Which one gets it next, Em?"

She smiled.

"Me."

The girls cried out in despair.

Most beautiful melody to her ears.

So many fantasies flooded her head, Emerald worked through each and one of them. But no matter the scenario, it all ended the same. Her at the very top of the totem pole. With other ebony huntresses sharing a very prestigious position among Jaune's harem. And the white girls doing whatever they could to earn their favor. It was a very pleasant dream. Perhaps, she would put extra effort and make it into a reality.

As she stopped the camera, she decided. She would work hard on reaching that future.

And it all began with this video.

Three hours worth of her home porn. Three hours of Emerald playing with herself. Three hours of describing all the way she would pleasure him.

Without any doubt or regret, she sent the video to the boy.

And then went back to dreaming some more.

"Oh look at you, Jaune," Pyrrha cooed. "You are so hard!"

It has been three hours since Jaune got that video. The video in which the girl he met in the showers was completely naked. In which she fucked herself with dildos as big as his cock without any tears or pain. The video in which she begged to be fucked by him.

"Do you like my tits around your cock, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked softly. "They are just for you to use and fuck as much as you like. Oooh, I bet you are almost close to cumming! Don't hold back! Give it to me!"

And now all he could think of was plowing that cheeky bitch until she was nice and broken. He would fuck her pussy until no other man could ever fill her like he did. He would violate her ass until she cried and begged him to make her his. He would claim each and every one of her holes and-

"Aaaah!"

Pyrrha cried out in surprise as Jaune released his load. The thick strands of heavy white cream hit her face and her chest. But the genius girl didn't despair or even feel angry. She felt happy! So happy she barely contained a squeal. She did it! She made her boyfriend cum. Sure, with her tits only and it took her a good hour to do so but it was the results that mattered!

She was slowly getting better!

Jaune looked down at the girl, too much in love with her to tell her the truth. How he was driven to orgasm not by her lovely dirty talk or expressions. But the thoughts of fucking the ebony Emerald until she was pregnant with his child. He had no heart to tell her that he could cum just the same by jerking himself off with that video the exchange student sent him.

He didn't have the heart to do anything but lie to her.

"That was incredible, Pyrrha," he patted her head. She leaned into it. "I love you."

"Awww, I love you too!"

He watched Pyrrha go to their dorm's showers. He laid down on his bed and wondered where the hell his life was going. He loved Pyrrha. She was a great friend. Amazing girlfriend too. So why did the sex matter that much? He wasn't one of those assholes who got into relationship just to have sex, right? He wasn't. So why couldn't he be happy with what he had?

His scroll screen flared up.

A new message.

Perhaps he was too confused right now. Too busy and anxious to think the situation through. But whatever the circumstances, as soon as he read the message, he put his clothes on and left the room. As if in a haze, he found himself on the rooftop. The same place where Pyrrha trained him. Where he confessed about his admittance here. Where she confessed his love for him.

Where Emerald was sitting and waiting for him to come.

"Wow, you are fast."

"What do you want?"

The girl seemed taken aback by his cold and rude tone. But she quickly brushed it away and smiled.

"I like this angry face of yours," she said gently as she came dangerously close to him. His eyes fell towards her cleavage. She had no bra. "You should wear it more often. Gets me all wet and hot."

He couldn't push her away. No matter how much his common sense and loyalty screamed at him.

"I asked," he cleared his throat. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want? Jaune, I think you got it wrong here," she pressed her breasts against him. His hands reached for her barely-covered ass. "It is what you want that brought you here."

She smelled of chocolate. Bitter and sweet. She smelled of dirt and sin, the heavy and addictive smell that invaded his every thought. She smelled of the broken promise and betrayal. The venomous yet sweet lie that risked it all.

"I... I don't think we should do this," he said. He was lying. But as long as he stuck to the lie, he would believe it one day too. "I don't love you. Hell, I don't even know who you are-"

"I am Emerald."

"Not my point," she chuckled. He ignored it. "The point is, I love my girlfriend. I love Pyrrha and I am not going to cheat on her, got it?"

She was smiling. Why was she smiling? Scream at him. Laugh at him. Do something so that he could forget about her and focus on his love for Pyrrha. Something that would take away the choice from him and leave him content.

"Is it cheating though?" Emerald smiled as she removed her jacket. He could have stopped her. Should've done exactly that right then. He couldn't. He didn't want to. "Tell me, Jaune, do you want Pyrrha to be happy?"

Like there was any doubt.

"I do."

"Then have sex with me."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, but it does," she took off her shoes and let them drop. Her knee-high socks fit her legs tightly. Showing off the fat of the thights in all the right places. "Do you honestly believe your relationship can last as it is? That you can just keep lying about how good her tits feel when you want to fuck her ass and cunt till she is filled with your cum? Trust me, Jaune, such noble intentions will only lead to your ruin."

She stepped closer. He stepped back.

She started unbuttoning her shirt.

"Just like there are Alphas and Betas among men, there are Alphas and Betas among us girls. Those who rule. Those who are ruled."

Jaune scoffed.

"Pyrrha could kick half the school's ass with her eyes closed."

"True, but it is not the strength that determines an Alpha. Otherwise, guys like Cardin would be running the world," she smirked. "No. What makes an Alpha is the drive. The desire. And your girlfriend, sadly, lacks it. She is too passive. She allowed her fans and agents control her entire life. And the only thing she could think of doing about it was running away. Like a coward."

Jaune glared at the girl. He refused to listen to someone talk like that about Pyrrha.

"Oh, please, don't be mad at me, I am simply trying to help."

"And how me cheating on Pyrrha will help our relationship?"

"You will be free to wait for het to bloom into a perfect woman for you," Emerald reasoned. "You may not admit it now but you are growing impatient. Frustrated with her failure. It won't be long until jerking off in the shower or getting some mediocre titfuck from her will satisfy you. And do you know what happens then, Jaune?"

She was next to him, her exposed breasts pressed against him softly.

"You will cheat on her anyway. Only unlike me, that woman will brag and lord it over her and you. You will break the poor little Pyrrha's heart. And worst of all, you won't even care about it. You will become just a player who fucks girls and leaves them because you feel like it. A complete and utter asshole."

The vision was so clear now. Jaune hated what he saw in the future. A broken promise and bond. Destroyed relationship.

Loss of trust and faith in each other.

"If you agree to my offer, I will do it all for you, Jaune," Emerald smiled as she planted a kiss on his lips. "This sweet chocolate body will be yours to enjoy. Any hole. Any position, Any sexual fantasy of yours, I will give you everything. And neither Pyrrha nor your teammates and friends will ever know."

"... They won't?"

Emerald smiled.

"Not unless you want to."

Jaune frowned.

"Why me?"

Jaune was suspicious.

"Because you have a huge cock and I want to get fucked by it."

Emerald was blunt.

"So what do you say, Jaune? Deal?"

He was quiet. The good kind of quiet. Emerald smiled as she practically heard his resolve breaking apart in the night air. She was good. She learnt it on the streets. Negotiate not from the position of power. But from the position of a friend. Make them believe you are there to help. Show how much they can benefit from following your lead. And once they see things your way, it will be easy to guide them down a darker and dirtier path.

"... Deal," Jaune whispered. "But I will choose when and where it happens."

Cute, Emerald thought, he thought he had control.

"Very well," she gave a dramatic bow. "So? Wanna get a taste right now?"

He wanted to. She could see it.

"I should get back to Pyrrha."

"Go then," she waved a hand. "Be sure to kiss her for me."

As just like that, the next step of her plan was accomplished.

She couldn't wait to go even further.

"Hey, Jaune, Pyrrha here," the soft voice of his partner, recorded in the message, spoke shyly. "A-Anyway, just calling to see where you went. Text me back as soon as you can."

Emerald moaned in his ear as he kept thrusting in and out of the girl. For the first time since he started the relationship with Pyrrha, he had the chance to go all out. No whimpering or crying. No biting lips or begging to stop. He was free. Free to indulge in the lust he held back all this time.

"Keep going, Jaune!" Emerald hissed, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Keep fucking me while your girlfriend is looking for you! Oh yeah, just like that, fuck me up!"

He groaned and grunted. He obeyed and fucked her. Without restraint, enjoying the feeling of her fat ass in his hands. He squeezed her cheeks and spread them further. His fingers dug into her asshole and spread it as well. The girl yelped and Jaune shut her up with a kiss. She fought against it briefly before melting into the hot embrace. No thoughts. No doubts. Just instincts.

He could feel his cock twitch and spasm.

"On your knees."

She hopped off and kneeled. Hands behind her hand, mouth spread wide open, Emerald was the picture of a perfect slut.

He never saw anything as gorgeous.

With a loud grunt, he came. A stream of white semen shot into her mouth. The girl didn't gag or choke. She took it all with a smile. As the last bit of his load splashed against her face, Emerald smiled at him. Opening her mouth, she gave him a show of her tongue sloshing around in the bath of semen. Winking at him, she swallowed it all down in one go.

"Does Pyrrha love your cum?"

"She says she does," Jaune said honestly. "But she never really swallows it properly."

Emerald smiled.

Ths plan was coming along greatly.

"Jaune, look!" Pyrrha smiled at her boyfriend, showing off her new swimsuit. "My mom sent me this adorable little thing! Do you wanna go to the swimming pool this weekend?"

"You dirty fucking slut!"

"Oh yeah... I am a dirty fucking bitch," Emerald smiled as Jaune gave her ass another slap. "You need to punish me or I will never learn better."

He was happy to give her a rough spanking. And wasn't it just unfortunate that Pyrrha fell asleep. Nora and Ren would stay there and make sure nobody took advantage of the sleeping girl. Emerald snorted at the thought. Not that anyone would find the plain white one-piece suit she wore anywhere near sexy enough. Not some random guy. And not Jaune when he saw her.

Emerald was proud of how easily she got him to follow her. With trashy slutty leopard pattern two-piece suit that barely covered her nipples and pussy, she could practically feel Jaune fuck her with his eyes.

"S-Someone might come and find us here," she whispered.

"Do you actually care about being seen?"

She smiled. He knew her so well already.

"You know that I don't."

With her Semblance, even if someone managed to get in this private room, they would never see them. Not that Jaune cared as he plowed her ass. It felt painful. Burning and addictive, the rough assfucking he gave her more than made up for him ignoring her during classes and in the hall. She could Nikos smirk at that slightly. Pfff, the stupid bitch was so confident her boyfriend was above being influenced by her looks.

So much that she missed the way he always smelled like her.

The bitter chocolate and the lie.

As he finished inside her, Emerald swooned. She liked feeling his cum inside her. It only added to the feeling of superiority she was slowly getting addicted to. The feeling she experienced every time she saw Nikos living a happy little vanilla fantasy of hers.

Eventually, Jaune went back to his friends. And Emerald saved another video of her getting fucked by Jaune.

"The Vytal Tournament is starting right after the dance, Emerald. Have you got all the information on our competition?"

"Yup, filed and organized. Just like you like it."

"Excellent. You are not very talkative today, are you?"

Emerald bit back the moan and doubled her focus. Stupid Jaune. Fucking God. She loved him.

As Cinder read through the files, she was completely unaware that she was talking to mere illusion of Emerald. While the real deal was getting fucked atop the girl's bed. As the raven-haired leader went on and on how the other teams would fall and Haven would stand supreme, Jaune chuckled. It was an ugly twisted sound that got Emerald's cunt tighter and hotter.

"This Arc boy doesn't seem like much. Why pay so much attention to him in your files?"

As the fake Emerald gave the well-rehearsed answer, the real one struggled with keeping up her Semblance as Jaune doubled the strength snd the speed with which he was fucking her. Whenever Cinder turned away. her mirage would waver and distort. She opened her mouth, ready to cry out only for Jaune shove his fingers inside.

She tasted her own pussy and ass.

She was getting drunk on the taste.

"Anyway, you should focus on your training," Cinder smiled and left. "Make sure to stay in shape."

The door closed.

Emerald came with a cry.

Jaune didn't stop.

Her plan worked well. Too well, one might say. She knew how conditioning worked. And she was betting on it. With Pyrrha and his friends, Jaune would be a perfect little knight. With her, he could be the beast she knew he was hiding. And damn did it work.

"No time to relax, bitch," Jaune slapped his still erect cock across her face. "Time to continue your training."

If this kept up... It would not be her who stayed in power. As she sucked the boy off, a new thought entered her fragile lustful mind. As he played with her breasts and ass, the thought grew, As he fucked her cunt and ass, the thought grew stronger and more persistent.

As he came inside her, her mind was made up.

"Woooohooooo, let's get drunk, everyone!"

"There is no alcohol! And get down from the table, Yang!"

The Vytal Festival was the tradition to celebrate the unity of four Kingdoms. But for the students here today, it was the perfect opportunity to break away from the routine of their studies and get one last breath of fresh and free air before they would start fighting in one of the most important fights of their lives. The prestige of their schools. Their reputation as future protectors of the humanity. And their personal pride as warriors. It all would rest on the way they performed.

But that was the talk for tomorrow. The worries for the day that had yet to come.

Tonight, they were here to celebrate like the young people they were.

Some drank. Some danced. Some simply had the time of theit life. And one young Champion couldn't be happier with the way her life turned out. A year ago, the tought of being somewhere where she could just be herself seemed like a dream. And now that dream was a reality. Her dream come true. Friends. Boyfriend. And a happy life.

"You were amazing, Jaune."

"Thanks, Pyrrha, you two."

She giggled like a little girl when Jaune gave her a kiss. And to think that she thought their relationship was in trouble. Silly her. Worrying over nothing. She was so lucky to have found Jaune. And tonight, she planned to show him he was right to stay with her. She would make sure he could never forget their night together. Once the dance was over, she would bring him to a special hotel room she found and paid for and then- Oooh, the things that they would do together!

Better move 'cause we've arrived

Lookin' sexy, lookin' fly

The sudden shift from the soft and slow dancing music took the whole room by the surprise, The surprise that was quickly followed up and overwhelmed by the arrival of the the girl Pyrrha has been seeing an awful lot of lately. Dressed in tight white dress that showed off her wide hips and fat ass, the girl walked with the confidence of the lioness. She cared little for whistles or stares. For envious and angry looks thrown her way. All she cared was getting to wherever she heading.

Pyrrha didn't realize until it was too late that she was coming for them.

Jaune stepped forward, his gaze hard.

"Something I may help you with, Emerald?"

He sounded so cool, Pyrrha thought. Oblivious to the way Emerald licked her lips.

"Just stand back and watch the show, stud."

Pyrrha practically frothed at her mouth as the girl kissed her boyfriend on the lips. She wanted to do something. Say something. But instead she found herself held in place by something truly ominous. She didn't dare make a scene. And so she was forced to watch.

The crowd formed around them, the alcohol and hormones running high. The beatiful black girl shaking her hips and ass in the center of it made them cheer and cry in approval. As if they were caught in some trance, the couple of cut her and the rest of the group away and pushed Jaune inside onto the single chair. Emerald looked her in the eyes and smirked.

Shaking her hips, the girl made a show of using the movement to ride her dress up until her juicy black ass was exposed for everyone to see. Ruby and Weiss covered their eyes. Yang ran off to get the teacher. Ren and Nora were comforting her. But those were the only people who appeared to be bothered by it. Instead, all the rest were practically infected with the lust.

As they watched the girl swing her ass round and round before throwing it up and down, the boys and girls around her started making out. Like the patient zero of some mysterious plague, Emerald's shaking ass and swinging hips spread lust and madness through the crowd. From then on, the foreplay was over and the girl began twerking for real.

Emerald didn't waste any time moving slow or making any more show of what she wanted. She wanted to shake her fat black ass, and that was exactly what she was going to do. Her cheeks began to clap against one another in a hypnotic rhythm, as her hips swung from side to side heavily. It was now apparent that she was not wearing any bra since the entire room could see her full tits wobble she leaned down further.

Like a little cum-hungry bimbo, Emerald straightened up suddenly as she ran her hands along the taunting countours of her body. A show for all to see, but only one man to truly enjoy. She was showing off what it would feel like to be so near her. To touch her. to handler her body so intimately.

Her booty conitnued to clap, ass cheeks rippling against each other. Soon, her bright green thong was lost within the mounds of her ass as trhe girl continued gyrating it like it had a life of its own. As the rap music banged on through the entire dance hall, all eyes were glued to the sight of Emerald twerking her fat ass right in front of him, smacking her cheeks from side to side to the rhythm of the music.

Growing cocky, she started grinding her ass on his crotch. The vibrations sent by the two fine pieces of meat smacking against him soon got the desired result. Emerald grinned, enjoying the feeling of a hot hard cock between her cheeks.

Reaching behind, Emerald made sure to give her ass a good smack. The smack that sent ripples visible through her thin dress. The smack loud enough to shake the numb and silent redhead out of stupor. Pyrrha saw red, her very being aflame. She hated this feeling. She hated the pleasant flame in her loins even more.

"GET OFF MY BOYFRIEND, YOU BITCH!"

The crowd fell silent and the music came to an abrupt stop as Pyrrha Nikos - the model student pushed the girl off and away before pulling the blonde out of the chair. She didn't blame Jaune. Her poor boyfriend must have been scared and confused so much he couldn't move. She glared at Emerald, forgetting all about appearances and hissed, "You better hope we don't fight in the matches, Sustrai."

And with that, Pyrrha dragged Jaune away. Away from crowd of horny assholes. Away from a thieving bitch. There was still time. Still enough time to make the evening theirs. Pyrrha smiled as Jaune gave her a kiss. She was looking forward to having him all to herself.

"I can't believe that bitch did all of this."

"There, there, Pyr, it's alright," Jaune said soothingly. His hand brushing her hair, he did his best to make her feel better. "Honestly though, that came out of nowhere. I hope she gets her just punishment. Maybe Goodwitch will make even smack her around with her crop."

Pyrrha giggled, "Knowing the way she is, she might actually enjoy it."

"And then twerk in front of Goodwitch?"

"I would be fine with it."

As long as the girl stayed away from her knight, Pyrrha didn't care if Emerald started a freaking brothel.

"Hey, Jaune?"

"Yes, Pyrrha?"

"I... I, uh... Oh, fuck it," she latched onto his lips. A soft and warm feeling filling her very being. "I want us to go all the way tonight. I want to claim you as mine. And hope you will do the same for me."

He smiled and returned her kiss.

"Let's do this."

Under the moonlight, the two undressed each other. As their hands worked on removing the layers of clothing, their mouths were busy exploring each other. Pyrrha knew she smelled of roses and apples. Jaune's smell surprised her. He always smelled like cotton candy and fresh morning air. But as she bit gently into his neck, she caught the smell of something else entirely.

The smell of dark and bitter chocolate.

"Pyrrha, is everything alright?"

The girl shook her head. What was she thinking about anyway? Of course, he smelled like Emerald. The nasty little whore tainted him with her smell. No problem, she thought. She would simply have sex with him until he smelled of her and only her.

"Everything is perfect, Jaune."

She pushed the boy onto the back and took the position, ready to mount his amazing cock.

"Time for you to have sex with a real woman!"

Jaune grunted underneath her as her trained cunt swallowed him whole. A far cry from the ways things used to be. A hopeful song of their future love. She rode him with all her might, gyrating her ass on the top of him. Feeling every single inch of his cock fill her up. He was so huge and hard but she would bare it all for him. As she felt him thust up and into her pussy, Pyrrha couldn't help but smile all the more.

It was finally perfect.

As the things should have been.

"I bet Emerald would never be able to take your cock, Jaune."

"She could never compare."

"You are mine, Jaune! I am so happy!

The air was filled with love and passion.

With the sounds of grunts and moans.

With the smell of bitter chocolate and sweet little lies.

"Jaune, fuck me from behind!" Pyrrha cried out feverishly. "I want you take me like a filthy little bitch I am!"

Emerald rolled her eyes and stuck the automatic dildo inside the stupid little cunt. The redhead swooned and moaned and panted like a bitch in heat. Though the way she acted, Emerald doubted if it was an insult to the girl or actual mongrels. The dildo the girl lost her virginity to wasn't even half the size of Jaune's cock but Nikos was far too stupid and arrogant to figure that out.

Welp, whatever worked for her.

"You are a real bitch."

"Which is why you love me."

Emerald smirked as there was no protest from Jaune. Out in the public, he would always be the same awkward wide-eyed naive idiot. But here? With her and her alone, he was someone else. A man she molded into the ultimate specimen of her tastes. Cunning enough to follow her plays. Strong enough to handle her and her sex drive. Vicious enough to make her submit to him.

And completely and hopelessly addicted to her dark fuckmeat.

Emerald gave Pyrrha another look. The girl was under heavy illusion this time. A technique of sorts Emerald developed for some deeper hypnosis. And as long as Emerald desired it, Nikos would only see, hear, smell and feel what she wanted. She was lucky Emerald was in a good mood. Like a dumb monkey, the girl was humping a fucking pillow fully confident she was getting a dicking from her beloved blonde. All the while the real deal was playing around with her ass like his favorite toy.

"Heh, okay then. Guess I should pay you back for the shit you pulled at the dance," Jaune said unzipping his pants. His thick foot-long cock fell out of its confines in all its girthy glory. "Don't expect me to go easy on you, Emerald."

Holy shit... He's even bigger than usual...! She thought her heart race a bit. The beating of her heart was nothing compared to the throbbing of her hungry cunt as she stared at the underside of his monster cock. They had fucked so much over the past few weeks but his cock looked as big, as thick and as threatening as if it would after years of neglect. Silently, Emerald promised herself that she would do her best to drain those balls and claim that cock as hers.

"Aaaah!" Nikos cried out, to Emerald's annoyance. "I am cumming, Jaune! I am cumming!"

She watched the champion of Mistral shake her hips as her pussy started squirting all over the floor. Emerald turned her nose away in digust. With a quick application of her Semblance, she pulled out a ball-gag and stuck it in the girl's mouth. As far as Nikos knew, Jaune found it in one of the drawers and used it add some spice. Nikos, like a dumb cunt she was, eagerly accepted it all.

"Now that the pest is dealt with, are you ready for a real woman to serve you?"

Jaune didn't move or say anything. Everything the girl needed was in his eyes. The command. The order. Impress him. Earn her right to be his. She gave Nikos one last look. The pathetic girl was whimpering and getting fucked by a dildo. She looked so pitiful.

Emerald loved it.

And she would make sure Jaune kept her by his side so that she could watch even more of such pathetic side of the Invincible Girl.

Falling to her knees, the girl cralwed up to him. Her dress was long discarded and now she was free to sway her hips for his pleasure. Quickly adjusting herself before him, with her palms straight on the ground and her pussy rubbing against the floor, Emerald placed her head spread her mouth wide open with lust-filled eyes. A game, she could remember, where she had to get him hard with nothing more than a glance.

As she found his previously flaccid cock press against her cheek, Emerald scored her first victory tonight. She silently asked for permission. With ass wagging and her eyes wanting, she was whimpering like a little slut. He rolled his eyes but gave his permission. Without further play, Emerald latched onto his bulging head. Sucking the tip of his cock into her gullet, she savored the bitter and salty taste of sweat and pre-cum.

Jaune groaned softly feeling the ebony beauty's hot wet mouth swallow up the head of his cock. She was sucking him off, slurping and smacking as if she was enjoying the sweetest candy her tongue ever tasted. Eager to please and desperate to be of use, he could feel her hunger for more grow. Not that he would grant it until he wanted to. Something changed in him. Changed for the better. And whatever it was, he now wished to see how far Emerald could go before giving her anything at all.

Closing her eyes, Emerald doubled her efforts on giving her man the best blowjob she could give. Having lived on the streets, she saw her fair share of whores give the men a sloppy blowjob. The hours she had spent watching all sorts of porn would also show their results now. Done with the generic stuff, she went for her some hardcore stuff.

With a cheeky glint in her eyes, the girl squeezed her lips tight around his thick head. Having it trapped with no means for escape, Emerald started bobbing her head up and down the thick girthy shaft. A small faint gasp from the blonde was all the encouragement she needed to continue on. Pushing her throat to the limits, she was slowly working it across the length of his cock. Slurping all throughout it, she felt on shame in letting the dirty cocktail of her saliva and his precum mix and drool down her mouth.

It didn't take long for her to adjust to the feeling in her throat. Even less to quicken the pace and give her man what he definitely desired. Under Jaune's grunts, her head was now bobbing up and down the full length of his monster cock. Her lips, still as tight as before, were sucking him without mercy. Emerald felt the pride swell inside her chest as Jaune started patting her like a good little bitch she was.

"Mmm~" She slurped loudly. Shamelessly as she enjoyed pushing her face into his crotch. The feeling of his full length taking all the place inside her throat was more intoxicating than any drink she ever had. "Mmm!"

She could feel it! As she quickened her pace, her heart started beating in tune. She could feel him get closer and closer to orgasm. She didn't dare stop. Didn't even think of slowing down. She wanted his cum. She wanted it! She needed it! She craved it like nothing ever before. Emerald slurped and sucked loudly and tirelessly, her tongue hungrily dragging its way all over his cock in a desperate attempt to get as much taste of him manmeat.

It tastes so good ... More... Please, Gods, above, let me taste more ...I...I want to suck him my whole life...

Fuck Cinder and her plans. Fuck Pyrrha and his friends. Fuck whatever else life would throw at her. As long as she could service Jaune for the rest of his life, she would be perfectl content with whatever came after them.

As Nikos continued to moan and rolled her tongue around, Emerald couldn't help but enjoy the feeling more. Nikos seemed to be giving a blowjob to the phantom cock. And while she was sucking and smacking on thin air, Emerald was getting all the cockmeat and cream a bitch like her needed. The melody of sucking and moaning and grunting filled the room. She looked up at Jaune, drinking in his pleased expression. Her work. This was all her work and she couldn't have anything better than his cruel smile.

"Time for your reward, Emerald. Make sure not to waste a single drop!" Jaune hissed and she braced herself. Roughly grabbing her hair, Jaune pushed his whole length inside her throat. He eyes and throat bulged out, her cunt going out of control from all the pressure. And just as Jaune released sick loads of his potent semen down her throat, the thief came all over the floor like a complete degenerate. "Someone has to clean it all up."

Emerald smirked and changed the illusion for Nikos again. She removed her ballgag and stared at the puddle of Emerald's pussy juices, "Oh, look at the wine you spilled, Jaune," the girl giggled and crawled over to the spot with a sweet little smile. "Just let me clean this up for you."

Emerald and Jaune watched Pyrrha lap up the girl's pussy juices and comment on how much she liked this wine. Emerald thought it was hilarious, briefly wondering if she would enjoy her piss as well. Jaune found it hot, evident from his quickly returning erection. Emerald growled, feeling that even when Nikos was nothing but a dumb bitch she was somehow stealing the attention away from her.

Well, that was about to change.

Making Nikos go sit in the corner and masturbate, Emerald walked over the bed. Getting on all fours, she turned away from Jaune and shook her thick fat ass in front him. She didn't care what she looked like. How little respect or pride was in her humiliating submissive posture. All that she cared about was getting that thick cock inside her.

"Haaah... Jaune? Please, Jaune?" She whimpered, letting go of any restraints. She felt his hand rubbing up against her exposed cunt. They had fucked so many times before. But she always had some semblance of control. But not anymore. And never from now. With him, she would always be at the mercy of his temper and will. She was almost ready to cum from such thoughts. "Please, I wanna make you feel good! Let me service you with my needy tight holes!

A smack across her ass made her cry out in surprise. A second one - from climaxing all over again. He continued to rain down smacks across her sensitive chocolate ass until it was more burning bright red.

The girl whimpered and panted, not quite used to this rough treatment but no less welcoming of it. As long as it came from him, she would happily bear all of it.

"Spread your ass, Emerald," Jaune hissed into her ear. She nodded and eagerly did just that, exposing her tight hole for him to see. "I must say, you taught me a lot about myself. How much I enjoy being in control. How easy it is to like something even when you know it is wrong. Tell me, Emerald, did you imagine things would be like that between us when you approached me?"

Never in her life.

"N-No, Jaune," she whimpered, embarrassed to tell him what she thought. What she expected. He already knew why she was spying on them. But she never told him what she expected from their relationship. "I thought I would be able to keep you as my personal boytoy. Fuck you when I want. How I want. Make you into my own source of stress relief."

"And now?"

"I-I know better than that," Cinder was wrong about so many things. But she did get one thing right about Emerald. She was not cut out to be the top dog. "I know that you will handle a harem better. Y- I would be happy if you let me work as your second-in-command. I would be so happy to teach the other black girls I know how great you are."

Arslan from team ABRN, The uptight cunt Ciel from Atlas. She would be so happy to get them and more as her slut sisters for Jaune.

"And white girls?" Jaune asked as he squeezed her ass tight. "What about girls like Pyrrha?"

"T-They could never satisfy you, Jaune," Emerald spoke from the heart. Seriously, who could fuck that monster cock of his like her and other ebony beauties? Not the jailbait Ruby. Or that heiress bitch Schnee. Perhaps the fat-assed Vakyrie could do something but the rest? None of them had the hips, asses or tits to compare to girls like Emerald. "So please, let me help you see just how much better the girls like me are compared to some vanilla shit these girls would give you."

He was silent.

"P-Pleas-AaaaH!" she felt his strong hands grab at her waist. His thick tip resting against her tight little asshole. She grinned at him, "So, you finally gonna give in and give me some good time, right? Go right ahead, I know you want to, Jaune. Fuck me up! Fuck my ass until I can no longer be satisfied by anyone else!"

Eyeing up her delicious black ass, Jaune chuckled. No need for him to be told twice, he rubbed Misty's pussy and ass with two thick fingers. Slowly, he pushed them inside and got all her wet and ready. Not thatr it required much time or effort from him at this point. Emerald was really strong. But she was also sneaky and would likely try and manipualte him if he left her enough of willpower to do so. Her mind was definitely not as good or solid right now as it was when they met. The girl was on the verge of breaking apart into a bunch of instincts.

It was only natural that he pushed her towards it.

"Don't cry for mercy later than, you slut," He muttered, his cocktip invading her puckered asshole without much argument. Emerald hasn't been a virgin even when she met Jaune. But those were small one-time nights and with how big and thick Jaune was... Well, she might as well have been a complete and total virgin.

Emerald slapped the bed, letting out a low loud moan. As if she was being ripped apart in the most pleasant of ways, she bit into the sheets and cried, "FuuuUUUcucking shiiiiiiit! Yes, yes, yes, YEEEEEEEES! You are ripping my ass apart! Please, don't stahp!"

She could feel her Aura fizzle and crack from the pain. Oh, once it was out, how much more painful and pleasurable it would get. The mere thought was enough to drive her even wilder. Jaune grinned as he continued to spread her ass open inch by inch. To his growing surprise, Emerald was taking it all with the same kind of love as before. Even when he was not nearly as big or ferocious as he was right now.

"Fuck, your cock is fucking best, Jaune!" she cried out deliriously. "Oh, Gods, I can feel your cock in my guts! You are so deep in my ass I can feel it in my guts!" Emerald was positively babbling now. Her words a barely coherent mess of expletives and curses. Her mind a wild hive of every single dirty thing a girl knew. His cock went deep and hard, pressing down on her innards to the point she was cumming from a simple act of breathing. That's how powerful he was. How much power he held over her. "Please, make me cuuuuuuuum!"

Jaune thrusted inside her one more time, the pressure from her ass and guts so strong and overwhelming it reached even further inside. Right towards her womb. And as Jaune continued to fuck her ass with his full length, Emerald felt like he was pounding her pussy at the same time. Her world was falling apart. Her loyalties and goals crushed into dust, all she cared for was getting Jaune to fuck her even harder. Even faster.

With a wet sticky sound, Jaune pulled out. Leaving her so hollow she couldn't bear a single moment of it. What was wrong? Was it something she did? She would make up for it if only he let her.

"You are a good bitch, Emerald."

Her heart swooned at the praise.

"Now I want you to do something for me. Do it and I will cum inside your pussy and make you my top bitch."

Anything. She ready to do anything.

"Just tell me what you want."

Jaune grinned.

"Help me tie Pyrrha up."

Emerald was quiet, taken aback by the odd request. But as she met Jaune's eyes, she realized instantly what he wanted. And just like the opportunistic sadist she was, Emerald jumped at the chance to get the girl she wanted to hurt for so long.

Pyrrha was at the top of her world. Hours and hours of sex with Jaune were the kind of heaven she never imagined possible or wanted. But now that she had tasted the forbidden fruit of his body, she would never tire of the taste. His strong arms and gentle touch were all the Pyrrha needed to be happy. The whole world might have pushed her to be perfect, but as long as Jaune stayed by her side, she would happily fight through everything.

"Jeez, Pyrrha, go easy on that toy," the familiar - an unpleasantly so - voice spoke candidly. "Talk about going wild."

"Emerald," Pyrrha hissed as she covered herself with the sheet. How did she get in without her noticing? Little matter. "Leave before I make you. You know I can do that."

"Can you now though?" Emerald smiled. The kind of smile that you wore when you knew of yours victory. When you were sure of it. "Tied up like that?"

What was she talking about? Pyrrha had no time for this. Jaune was sound asleep and she refused to let him be woken up by the likes of Emerald. She moved to get up. her feet never touched the ground though. In panic, she looked at Emerald. The green-haired girl gasped in false shock, "Sorry, Nikos, I forgot something. Here, let me help you."

With the sweet smile and hungry eyes, Emerald pulled off some kind of seal from Pyrrha's wrist. The same place where she touched her during the dance. The effects of the seal being removed didn't wait for long. As if she was woken up from a dream, the world around her changed. She was no longer in warm and soft bed. Instead he was on the cold floor, her arms tied behind her back. Her legs spread apart and duck-taped. The hotel room was the same but the feeling about it was all wrong.

And then there was the smell.

The smell of bitter chocolate.

"Emerald, you bitch, what have you done?" Pyrrha raged. "Where is Jaune? If you hurt him, I swear to Gods, I will-"

"Why not let him speak for himself?"

It was only now that Pyrrha noticed that Jaune was in the same room. But something was off about him. There was no more of that bubbly puppy feeling about him. Instead he looked like a wolf. And he was hungry.

"Hey Pyrrha. Glad to have you back with us."

"Jaune..." she whispered, not at all liking how casual the blonde was with being naked. Or Emerald rubbing herself against his leg. "What is going on?"

"A confession," Jaune smiled softly as she walked up to her. His cock, erect and imposing, stood even bigger than she remembered. "The last night was Emerald's illusion. She made you think you were fucking me the entire time. In reality, while you were busy with this plastic toy," he picked up the dildo that absolutely reeked of her juices. "I was busy fucking Emerald into submission."

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no... This couldn't be true. It must have been some nightmare. A cruel prank her imagination was playing on her. She would have shut her ears but her arms were bound. And so she listened on as Jaune spoke further.

"I have been having sex with Emerald ever since we became official. I tried to ignore her. Tried to focus on what happiness we had outside the bed, but I wasn't able to do it foreve, Pyrrha. Then Emerald came along and offered to be my stress relief until you learned how to handle my cock. Until you became strong enough for me to actually fuck."

Pyrrha was openly crying at this point. It was all wrong. All of this was so messed up.

"But that day never came. Even know, if I tried to have sex with you, I doubt you would be able to handle my full length for even a few minutes before passing out," Pyrrha sobbed as she felt how worthless she was. It hurt even more as Jaune sounded absolutely disappointed in her. "Despite all of this, I still love you more than anyone else in the whole world. I want to be with you, Pyrrha. One day, I wish to marry you too."

He was cheating on her. Making a fool out of her all this time. So why was she feeling so happy about his words? Why did she feel the damn hope he would keep his word?

Why did she feel so hot?

"I was tired of living a lie. Lying to you. To our friends. To myself," Jaune brought Emerald up from her knees. "Now is the time to be honest with myself."

He gave her a kiss. The kind of kiss even her wildest fantasies didn't see. There was nothing princely or romantic about it. It was wild and savage, full of nothing but sheer mating desire. Pyrrha could have had it for herself. Would have if only she were a better woman. But she was not and now she was watching a better woman - Emerald - take her beloved away.

Why did she feel so hot?

"He loves ebony girls like me, Nikos. With our wide hips, thick thighs and juicy asses, we are the only ones who can actually handle studs like Jaune," turning the girl around, Jaune lifted her off the ground. Emerald looked positively giddy as Jaune impaled the girl on his cock. The guttural bestial cry the thief let out sent shiver down Pyrrha's spine. Why did she feel so damn hot? As Jaune began to fuck her pussy, she looked her straight in the eye, "This is what real sex is like, Nikos! This is the kind of raw fucking you should have given him! Maybe then he would never leave you for me!"

Would she ever be able to handle it?

Pyrrha doubted it.

Emerald was screaming, crying in gibberish. Fuck her up. Impregnate her. Make her cunt his personal cum tank. The flood of obscene phrases filled the room and Pyrrha watched in awe as Emerald was actually enjoying having her pussy stuffed full of all that cockmeat. Her loins burned with want. Her mouth ran dry with need. She wanted it. She couldn't have it.

All she could do was watch.

"Oh yes! Oh, fuck! Gods above, fucking hell!" Emerald cursed as she looke down at Pyrrha. "Get used to the view, Nikos! I am not letting you have anything but his scraps!"

Jaune placed her down. On all fours, staring Pyrrha straight in the face, Emerald looked like she was some otherwordly being. Panting and grunting, Jaune's enormous cock plowing her from behind, the girl cupped Pyrrha's face and smiled at her. A cruel twisted smile.

"He still loves you. You still have his heart," she hissed. It was clear she hated to say that. "But his mind and body? They are all mine now. Nghh!"

Jaune gave her a harsh slap across her ass. So hard her Aura flared up.

"You can run, Nikos. Leave the two of us alone. Leave him for me to conquer his heart. I am sure you will find yourself a nice pencil-dick who will be happy with your being easy to please," Emerald spoke sweetly, even as venom dripped off of every word. "Or you can stay with us. Fight me for him. Try and get on my level. But I promise you, if you do that, I will not let you go easily."

Pyrrha whimpered. She was stronger than Emerald so why was she shaking so much?

And feeling so hot from the thought of losing to her?

"Aaaah!" Emerald cried out as Jaune pumped one final load inside her. Getting on her feet, Emerald proudly showed off the thick semen oozing out of her fucked-up cunt. "See this? This is what I earned. And this," she pointed at Pyrrha's throbbing swollen cunt. "is what you earned. So what shall it be, Pyrrha? Will you stand and fight for Jaune? Or would you rather give him up here and now?"

"N-Never!"

She refused to give up.

"Whatever you've got, bring it on!" Pyrrha glared. "I will make myself worthy of Jaune's cock. And then you will never get fucked by him again."

Emerald chuckled. Jaune did as well. Pyrrha's heart sank, her bravado now having a hole in it.

"Very well, Pyrrha. That's one of the reasons I love you so much," Jaune gave her a soft kiss. She leaned into it, grasping on the feeling like a life jacket. "But until you are actually able to handle me, you are going to be our cuckquean."

C-Cuckquean? What was that?

"W-What will I be?"

"Cuckquean," Emerald spelled out as if Pyrrha was an idiot. "A beta bitch. A denial slut. A no-touch no-fuck servant that I get to order around. Here, let me demonstrate t you!"

With a sick grin, Emerald pulled on Pyrrha's nipples. Giving her no time to recover from the shock, Emerald gave her a couple of slaps across her face before finally pushing her onto her back. With a laugh, the thief stepped on Pyrrha's swollen red cunt and pressed.

"Stop! Please, it hurts!"

"Exactly," Emerald smiled. "And physical pain is only a part of it. You will serve us, Nikos. Whatever I say, you will do. If I tell you walk through Beacon naked, you will do that. If I tell you to eat only whatever I give you, you will do that. No matter how humiliating and degrading it is, you will do what I say. And you will keep doing it until Jaune promotes you from a Cuckquean Cunt to his Bitch. Unless you want to back off now and stop bothering us."

The picture was grim, Pyrrha trembled. Having Emerald given so much power was terrfiying.

But she was Pyrrha Nikos. And she didn't give up.

"I will do it," she hung her head in shame. "And when Jaune and I are married, I will keep you as a dog, Emerald."

Emerald chuckled.

"Sure thing, Nikos. Give it your best shot." she pressed herself against Jaune. Wiping some of his semen from her pussy, Emerald smeared it all over Pyrrha's face. "Until then, enjoy the show. And your snack too."

Tied up and unable to move, Pyrrha was forced to watch the love of her life fuck the thief she considered a nuisance at best. And like an obedient cuck, Pyrrha ept the small bit of cum in her mouth. Enjoying whatever pleasure the small portion of it gave her.

Jaune held the two of them close as Emerald sucked him off. Pyrrha watched closely as the girl swallowed down his whole length. Jaune threw the two of them onto the bed, first her then Emerald on the top of hers. Pyrrha whimpered and sobbed as she felt Jaune fuck Emerald in her ass and pussy, She felt the pain doubly since she could tell just how intense it was. How much she wanted it to be her who was getting fucked.

Come the morning, Pyrrha paid for the room and walked beside the two. They went back to the dorm and Emerald gave Pyrrha another humiliating gift. Her own thong, drenched in Jaune's cum. The sight of it made her happy though and Pyrrha humbly accepted the gift. That night was the last night she could pleasure herself. And so she did.

With Emerald's thong held between her teeth, the leftover semen in her mouth, Pyrrrha was masturbating. Drowning in her lustful fantasies, the girl imagined where her life would go now. She imagined so many different scenarios. So many ways she would find her way back into Jaune's heart and embrace.

But no matter how much she thought of the future, it all remained the same. She would always be the pathetic whimpering cuckquean who begged and pissed herself for her betters' amusement. And Emerald would always be the harsh and cruel Mistress that Pyrrha depended on to get any semblance of pleasure.

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

She came, shamelessly staining her cold sheets. Where was Jaune, she wondered briefly. Her scroll screen flared up. A picture of Emerald gorging herself on Jaune's cock. Her loins burned again. The fantasy changed in her head. Now she was kneeling beside the two. Panting and begging for a drop of Jaune's cum. She was not given any. Not directly at leasy. Like a good little doggy, she lapped up whatever fell on the carpet.

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

Pyrrha came again.

The fantasy shifted. They were getting married but Pyrrha was still locked in a chastity belt after all these years. And once they came to their room, she would be allowed to hump the pillow while Jaune and Emerald enjoyed their night.

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

Pyrrha came again.

The fantasy shifted once more. She was Pyrrha Arc. A wife, a mother and a slave. Her daughter never knew she was her real mother. In her eyes, Pyrrha Nikos was just the maid of daddy and mommy, Jaune and Emerald. Her being impregnated by Jaune was her anniversary gift. She wondered if she could beg herself another one this year. Maybe if she acted like a really good dog, Emerald would give it to her.

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

Pyrrha came again.

And again and again and again. Thousands of fantasies. All with the same outcome.

But one that, with each orgasm, Pyrrha was slowly coming to accept as her fate.

#emerald sustrai #jaune arc #bitter chocolate au

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bae-science · 4 years

Note

❥,+,✘

❥: barefoot, sleepy wanderings

✘: forehead kisses

+: being led back to bed with patient whispers

TW: light blood, surgeries, mentions of hospital setting, needles, portrayal of OCD, vomiting

When people hear that Vanessa was diagnosed at five years old, they assume she doesn’t remember the experience. Her brain wasn’t developed enough. Other memories have clouded it over. Things got blocked out for being too frightening for a small child to deal with.

They’re all wrong, of course. She wishes they weren’t.

The experience isn’t totally crystallized in a perfect sequence of events; she doesn’t know exactly how her parents noticed her disorientation, weight loss, and difficulty with toilet training. She can’t remember the faces of the nurses who took care of her, or the doctor that tried to gently explain how drastically her life had changed forever. She doesn’t even know the title of the binder the social worker gave her parents on Type 1. Probably something ridiculous, though, since it was a pediatric ward. Sometimes she wonders if hospitals have crack teams specifically for that.

She remembers the IV, though. The way she couldn’t stop thinking about the way it lay under her skin, putting things inside her body she couldn’t see or understand, and the image of blood pooling underneath the clear tape from all the times she bent her elbow. Her mind looped the thoughts over and over again, expanding like a dense mass of black cotton that would, later in her life, prove persistent, and open to other topics of obsession. How she seemed to never be able to get warm. The exhaustion from being woken several times a night to be pricked and poked and sent back to bed for a few more measly hours of sleep, until the parade of doctors began anew. The blurry vision that seemed to take months to fade.

It seems almost comical, after twelve years of this, when a routine trip to the dentist reveals that her wisdom teeth are coming in wrong. The issue is so laughably common, so often played for jokes with laughing gas and woozy patients spouting nonsense before the anesthetic wears off, that Vanessa almost has trouble developing anxieties about the whole thing.

It’s then of course she’s informed about her own personal risk factors. The anesthesia could send her blood sugar either way: low because of the blood loss and healing required during the surgery, or high because of the adrenaline and falling asleep during the daytime. She’ll need to calculate her ratios, test her blood sugars, and monitor herself and her food while still recovering from the procedure. It makes a knot swell in her stomach as the dentist talks on, growing so large and choking that she nearly sprints for the car as her mother takes care of the paperwork, slamming the door and curling into the passenger seat to scream at the top of her lungs.

That night, Vanessa has to check the stove burners three times before she feels safe enough to go to bed.

Karla, bless her heart, doesn’t quite understand, but Hermann does. He tells her how he felt going under, and which over the counter painkillers help and hinder sleep. They go out and purchase an electric blanket to drape over her pillow, hoping the heat will help any pain in her jaw, and both him and Karla declare they’ll be sleeping over several nights while she recovers, Vanessa not even given a chance to dissuade them. She’s never loved her friends more.

Hermann’s correct in that she barely remembers nearly the whole hour before the assistant slips an IV in, Vanessa clenching down her jaw to steady her breathing. The drive home, too, is a blurry haze of aches and the wooziness that comes with hovering just above the lower end of her blood sugar bracket. They pass by a McDonald’s hanging just on the outskirts of the city, gripping to the slow crawl of modernity by its fingernails, and Vanessa thinks of her classmate Rebecca, who boasted two years ago after getting her own wisdom teeth removed that she ate nothing but ice cream for a week afterwards. The gauze in her mouth is sticky and bland. Her stomach growls.

Hermann and Karla are sitting on the porch steps when they pull in, overnight bags and cane sprawled beside them. Karla leaps to her feet before Vanessa’s mother is even parked, opening the passenger side door and taking her hand. Even with no small amount of anesthesia in her system, Vanessa still feels her heart skip a beat at Karla’s slim, cool fingers closing around hers.

“How are you feeling?” she asks anxiously, sliding her other hand around Vanessa’s waist and helping her up the steps. “Are you hungry? What hurts? Hermann,” she snaps, “get the Ibuprofen; I told you to have it out already!”

Hermann shoots Vanessa a look, and she gives a weak chuckle. The gauze in her mouth prevents any real speaking, but he understands.

“She’s not dying, Karla,” he says, holding open the door as Karla hurries her inside. Vanessa’s mother and Hermann follow after them, and after instructing the twins to call for her if they need anything, gives Vanessa a careful hug and kisses her forehead. Karla looks as if every second Vanessa isn’t tucked into bed like a sardine and being fussed over is causing her personal agony.

“‘c’n wohlk,” Vanessa mumbles, tongue refusing to shape the words right, but the gentle way Karla guides her up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom makes something soft and funny flutter in her chest. It’s been happening more often lately; this rush of discomforting elation whenever Karla shines that focused, diligent attention on her.

Hermann, seeming to sense that this is his role now, holds open her bedroom door and fetches her water bottle from the desk to bring it over. Karla pulls back the covers and eases Vanessa to sit down, kneeling to untie her sneakers. The world still hums with a muted fuzziness, but the sight gives Vanessa a brief, powerful urge to run her hand through Karla’s short, choppy curls. She wonders what it would feel like clipped and uniform, in the buzzcut she’s seen her admire on so many men.

Karla pulls her shoes, then socks off, and Vanessa crawls under her comforter and places the side of her jaw most painful at the moment onto the electric blanket. She fumbles for the switch to turn it on, but Karla brushes her hand aside and puts it on medium. “There,” she says with an air of frazzled satisfaction. “Right. Now Hermann and I will be right here, and we’ll wake you every two hours if we need to to take your medication. You’re supposed to alternate Ibuprofen and Advil, and you can drink and eat but only liquids at the moment.” She turns to Hermann with the sharpness of a military general. “Hermann, get the soup out. We made soup,” she clarifies. “Well, I did. Hermann’s a horrible cook. Are you hungry?”

Vanessa shakes her head as best she can, swallowing spit that tastes like iron. “’m okay. Th’nk y’.”

Karla pulls out her desk chair for Hermann to take a seat, then sets a cluster of Vanessa’s throw pillows on the floor next to the bed. She leans back against the side and looks up at Vanessa, face craned so far back it’s nearly upside down. “Are you okay?”

Vanessa nods into the pillow, letting one hand dangle down off the bed. Karla catches it without missing a beat and runs a finger over the tops of her knuckles. “Mmhm.” She’s hungry; no breakfast besides a glass of water for the first dose of medication, but can’t find the energy to even consider calculating how much insulin she needs, especially when she’s so sedentary. Sleep, however, is a tantalizing prospect so close to going low, and Vanessa is out the second her eyes close again.

She wakes excruciatingly thirsty, disoriented and heart pounding. Her body is the kind of overheated she recognizes as a telltale sign of a high, and panic races through her as she tries to push herself up and search for her bag.

It’s not there.

Vanessa’s breath catches, and she slides her hands over the jumble of books and empty plastic cups and pens on her bedside table. Where the fuck is her bag? She needs her bag; she needs to find out how high she is; never mind that she doesn’t know she’ll hold her finger steady enough to prick it, or insert the strip into the meter, but she needs her insulin because she’s hot, and exhausted, and her numbers are definitely so, so bad right now.

She stumbles out of bed and towards the door, catching herself on the doorframe briefly before fear propels her forward. Maybe she left it in the bathroom? Did she go to the bathroom? She might need to if she’s over 240; oh God, if she’s over 200 she’ll just stick her head in the bathtub and turn on the faucet because that is way, way too high, and if her numbers are too high her A1C will be bad, and if her A1C is bad then she’s doing it all wrong and failing diabetes, which is definitely something that is possible to do, and her stomach twists with anxiety so badly at the thought of her beautiful, perfect 5.7 going up even a percentage that she barely makes it to the toilet before dry heaving.

Pure bile, void of anything else from her empty stomach, splatters her tongue and the inside of the bowl, and Vanessa presses her face against the cool porcelain before the stench of bleach makes her retch again. She hears footsteps just outside, barely processing the sound of the door opening wider over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

“Vanessa--?” Karla asks, before seeing the scene before her and rushing to her side. She puts a hand on each shoulder and immediately begins rubbing them soothingly, a sensation that does a surprisingly good deal to steady Vanessa’s pulse.

She gags out, “High,” the last of bloody gauze finally falling into the toilet, and Karla nods against the back of her neck.

“Hermann!” she calls, “Hermann, get her kit! On the desk! Put a strip in the meter and new lancet!”

Oh, thinks Vanessa, that’s where it went, but Hermann is already clacking down the hall towards them. He quickly sets his cane on the bathroom counter and prepares the meter, then hands it and the lancet to Karla, who in turn hands Vanessa a tissue.

“Here,” she says gently, “for your mouth. May I see your hand?”

Vanessa clumsily wipes the acid from her chin and holds out a shaking hand, letting Karla take her pinky with careful fingers and prick it on the lowest setting she can. The pain is dulled there as well, thankfully, but the countdown as the meter processes her blood makes Vanessa’s stomach swoop.

When it shows 122, she frowns.

“But... ‘m hot,” she says, leaning back against the side of the bathtub. Karla hands the supplies back to Hermann and resumes rubbing her shoulders.

“Well you were lying on a heating bad under a bunch of blankets, ‘Ness. That might have something to do with it.”

“Thirsty?” Vanessa adds. Hermann makes a startled face and quickly leaves, returning with her water bottle. As she takes it and swallows a few grateful mouthfuls, he raises an eyebrow.

“Dry mouth from anesthesia is a common side effect. You really should be drinking regularly, especially since you weren’t able to for several hours.” He takes his cane from the counter and shifts his weight to it. “Come on. You should go back to bed.”

Vanessa tilts her head back against the rim of the tub and lets out a long, shaky sigh. “Yeah. Okay. Gimme a sec.”

She lets herself lean into the feeling of Karla’s hands on her skin, the chilled lip of the tub on her neck, and hears Hermann move to lean against the doorframe. Karla never pauses for a moment.

“You’re alright,” she murmurs, her head just brushing Vanessa’s hair. “We’re right here. You’re alright.”

She takes another breath, then nods. “’Kay. Let’s go.”

#ask #anon #ask meme #karnessa #pacific rim #mine

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triscribe · 4 years

Text

4am is not the time for an adventure

But I got one anyway.

So, my work shifts start early (even earlier than usual lately thanks to how many of y’all are ordering stuff online now), and this morning I’d set an alarm for 1:30 in order to get up and go to the overtime Saturday shift. Well. Didn’t happen, since I count make myself get out of bed until 3. I wasn’t inclined to let Mom put me to work first thing when she woke up, though, so I grabbed my backpack and headed off to the downtown library to sit on a bench outside and use their wifi.

And, uh. I got approached, about an hour later.

This woman, maybe late thirties, early forties, came down the street towards me, crying, and asked if I could help her. No idea at the time what the problem was, I said of course - what else could I say? She sat down on the bench next to me, still crying, and repeating herself over and over: “I lost the key fob, I’ve been walking around for three hours looking for it, for the car, I’m so stupid, he’s gonna kill me, he begged me not to go-”

It took a while, but I managed to ascertain the following facts:

-She’d been at one of the local restaurant/bars, which had closed up for the night a while ago.

-She wasn’t entirely sure which one, and wasn’t entirely sure where in the main street area she wandered, because she’s only been in Texas for two days.

-Her keys were locked in the car. She couldn’t find her car. She’d also misplaced the electronic fob that would unlock the door to let her in even if she did know where the car was. Quite possibly the fob and vehicle had both been stolen, which was contributing to a large amount of her panic.

-Calling for help was out, and her partner (boyfriend? husband? I never did learn that one) was “going to kill her”.

-She was still drunk. Or something. Distraught, understandably, and definitely not thinking straight.

So, I packed my stuff back up, guided her over to my puppy truck and got her settled, then waited as she called her partner. From what little I could hear of his voice over the phone, he sounded fairly chill if confused. Or maybe that was just a side-effect of being woken up at 4:30am while still hungover from their dinner before she even left for the bar. Anyway, my new friend starts crying again, because and/or in spite of whatever he said to her. I figure it’s time to start driving.

Right turn away from the library parking lot, up one block to where my favorite internet cafe is on the corner, left turn towards the only restaurant/bar I know of and, conveniently, the only parking garage in our dinky little Main Street area. She insisted she’d parked on a street, not inside the garage, so I go around to the back where I know there’s some parking spots by the sidewalk.

Lo and behold, there’s her Cadillac.

Queue tears of joy - followed by more sobs of despair as she remembered the missing fob, and pulled fruitlessly at the locked door handles. I pull out my phone to look up a number for a local locksmith who’d come out to us. She calls her partner again, to let him know the car was found. Cries harder again after hanging up. For the second time, I find myself letting this woman - complete stranger, still don’t know her name - hug me and cry on my shoulder.

She calmed down a bit once I got ahold of someone who said they could send a driver in half an hour. Then the lament for a cigarette started up. I’m asked if there’s a nearby gas station - maybe half a mile up the main road to the highway - and then if I’ll go get a pack for her. I’m, uh. Not comfortable agreeing to that, for personal reasons, so instead I drive her up there. On our way back the locksmith dispatcher calls, apologizing, saying it’s gonna be closer to eight or nine before he can get someone to us - maybe sooner if anybody wakes up early. I thank him, don’t give any details to my new friend (she’d burst out into tears earlier when the first company I tried said they couldn’t do anything until 7) and just get us back to the parking space beside her car.

(It should be noted, I made sure to ask her if it was safe to go back to her partner, and she blinked before bursting out laughing. “Shit, yeah, he’s a pussycat. And I know he’s not really angry with me, it’s just that I’m beating myself up over being so stupid, y’know?” I know. Believe me, I know.)

So. She smokes on the sidewalk, I get out my drawing stuff since dawn is breaking and it’s light enough to see the page. She finishes smoking, flops down into my passenger seat, and zonks out so hard I could practically see the sleepy Zzz’s coming out of her mouth.

I focus on coloring in some inked sketches for the next hour and a half or so.

About - 7:30, 7:40, get another call, this time from the actual guy driving around looking for us. I manage to establish our location for him: ”Can you tell me the actual address?” He asked three times. “I don’t know it, we’re next to the public parking garage at the intersection of this avenue and this street,” I explained twice. “Uhh... oh, is that by the library?” “Yep.” “Gotcha, we’ll be there in seven minutes.”

New friend starts to wake up right around the time this guy and his wife pull up. I figure we’re in the home stretch: out comes the little inflatable pouch to force the window out a sliver, and the long bendy pole to push down on the unlock switch.

Except.

The damn. Thing. Won’t. Work.

Ten minutes of cursing and wiggling, but because of the Cadillac’s arm rest design, he can trigger the UN-lock side of the button, but not the other. Tries reaching the other way to get the button on the back door. Tries coming around to the passenger side. Tries opening the center console to fish out the actual keys. Complains that the Cadillac he dealt with yesterday, just ONE YEAR different from this model, went so much easier.

Finally, FINALLY, he grabs a different tool, the little grabber arm, and after a few repeated attempts, manages to grab the pin of the actual lock and tug it upward. Car alarm goes off, of course, but my new friend is at least able to promptly clamber in, grab the keys, and shut it off.

Holy fucking shit.

She pays the guy and thanks him profusely, hugs me long and hard again, and then PULLS OUT A DIABETIC KIT TO CHECK HER BLOOD SUGAR LEVELS. I’M- JUST- WHAT.

“Oh my levels are so off-” WELL NO WONDER I THOUGHT YOU WERE STILL DRUNK.

Goodness gracious, woman.

I get another hug, and she gratefully calls me an angel. I just laugh it off and say I was in the right place at the right time, because honestly, I spent way too much of the four hours we spent together internally begging her to stop repeating herself to be anything close to an angel.

Never did catch her name, either.

Now I’m back on my bench, eating a breakfast burger I got from the cafe, and lamenting the fact I won’t be able to tell my mom about this misadventure because I don’t want to admit I didn’t go to work this morning. But y’know what? I’m glad I didn’t, or that poor fool of a woman might’ve spent another three hours wandering up and down the street, searching for her car, one block over from where it was parked.

(Also got to reaffirm a decision I made several years ago: I am never touching alcohol in my life ever.)

#real life shenanigans #I might've been less dismayed by this whole thing if she was #like #my age #but no #this woman's old enough to be my mother #apparently she even has a kid my age #but not sense enough not to go out drinking alone #geez #I do hope her day gets better though

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yallreddieforthis · 5 years

Text

Impossible Things

Fandom: It Chapter Two, It (2017)

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Rating: Explicit (in later chapters)

Words: 1.9k

Also on AO3

“What the fuck,” he mutters, trying his key one more time. His therapist always says he’s too quick to jump right to the doom and gloom. Maybe he didn’t get evicted all of a sudden. Maybe he just put the key in upside down or… Nope. His key straight up does not work.

And then suddenly the door swings open and Richie whacks him in the shoulder with a frying pan.

August 7, 2013 was the worst day of Eddie Kaspbrak’s life. He got dumped on a breakfast date by this guy he was kind of very into at the time, he totaled his brand-new Dodge Dart...by hitting a cop car, spilling iced coffee all over himself in the process. And that was just before work.

When he got to work, he was informed by fucking Claudia of all people that his favorite patient who was supposed to make a full fucking recovery had died during the overnight shift. He spent the rest of the day completing paperwork for his now-deceased buddy over in 44G, and playing a super fun game ferreting information back and forth between one of the endocrinologists--who was on a cruise with almost no reception--and her crazy bitch of a patient who insisted that Dr. Google told her she could cure her diabetes with a combination of like six essential oils and lemon juice. And also fighting over the phone with Marcus from Geico. Fuck Marcus from Geico and his manager Suzanne.

Anyway, yeah, that day was fucking nothing compared to this Saturday, when he went back to his shitty ass hometown, watched the first guy he ever loved die in his arms and then wiggled out the back door of a collapsing house containing all his childhood friends.

He’s pretty sure he hasn’t completely processed the awfulness of the whole thing yet. He’s done a decent amount of crying, but like… God, where to even begin? There’s literally no one alive who he can talk to about what he went through. The idea of keeping all this shit to himself for the rest of his life makes him want to consider pulling a Stan. Not that he ever would, actually. Because he’s a stubborn bitch, and when life tells him to go fuck himself, he usually just yells it right back.

Also he got stabbed in the fucking face by Henry Goddamn Bowers. And like, Ben did a decent job patching it up with gauze and superglue, but Eddie hauled ass to Urgent Care and got some actual stitches once he realized there was nothing else he could do at Neibolt. He’d been a fucking mess...like, crying and shit, but even in that state he could tell that the standard of care at Derry Clinic was subpar at best and he kept having to correct the NP who was sewing him up until she finally snapped and asked if he’d rather just do it himself. Actually, he normally would have preferred to, but his hands had been shaking too badly. He definitely plans to have it looked at by Dr. Lim, who will for sure know the best way to keep scarring to a minimum, as soon as he’s back at work.

Also, he was hoping that all the weird shit that had been going down with Pennywise and stuff would have fucking stopped after they killed It, but when he got back to the Derry Townhouse and went to get his shit from his room, there were three goddamn suitcases in there and he couldn’t figure out why. The first one had enough crap in it for like a three week trip, although the clothes weren’t all his. Also, the second one was filled with a bunch of pill bottles with his name on them for prescriptions Eddie has never needed, and his actual medication, amitriptyline, was not among them. But to be totally honest, by that point, he was so fucking tired and upset that he just kind of went fuck it and hauled everything into the back of a cab and got the fuck out of there.

And now he’s standing on the curb at LAX waiting for an Uber to take him back to his apartment in West Hollywood, where he can cry in private and maybe eat a pint of frozen yogurt from Whole Foods. Greek yogurt, of course, for the probiotics.

The first thing that strikes him as amiss back in LA is when he gets up to his apartment and there is a mat that says WELCOME TO THE SHITSHOW on it that he definitely did not buy in front of his apartment and his list of instructions for delivery men has been taken off his door.

Then he tries to open the door and his key doesn’t fit, which makes no fucking sense at all, unless Ms. Slavkin changed the locks while he was gone, which would be super illegal and also mean. Like, they’re on good terms, he thinks, especially since she barely speaks English and he knows exactly no Russian. They’ve never had a problem, though. His rent is always paid up on time. She brought him vatrushka two weeks ago and he referred her grandson for a volunteer position at Cedars Sinai over the summer. They’re good.

And then suddenly the door swings open and Richie whacks him in the shoulder with a frying pan.

“Ow! What the hell?”

Literally everything about what just happened is impossible though, because Richie is:

Dead. He died in Eddie’s arms under the Neibolt house less than 48 hours ago after telling him he fucked his mom one last time for good measure. Like...even while he was bleeding out he couldn’t… God. Anyway…

A resident of Illinois, last time Eddie checked. He even said some shit the other day about security at O'Hare. That’s… that’s the one in Chicago, right? It’s not LAX, Eddie knows that for sure.

Richie looks about as dumbfounded as Eddie feels. He does not apologize for hitting Eddie with a frying pan, although it’s not exactly cast iron. At best, it’s aluminum.

Which is another weird thing. Eddie uses exclusively cast iron or enamel cookware in his apartment because he’s not some kind of idiot sauteing his veggies in perfluorinated chemicals. The frying pan Richie is holding right now is undoubtedly riddled with BPA that would seep into his food and cause thyroid problems.

And honestly the only reason he’s probably getting hung up on that is that he expects Richie to disappear as soon as he blinks, because what the fuck would he actually be doing here. It’s going to hurt a lot more than that frying pan did when he evaporates, and Eddie’s going to feel like he lost him a second time.

Any second now.

Nothing else happens though, except that Richie manages to squeak out, “Eddie?”

And it’s corny to think, but it’s his voice that leaves no doubt in Eddie’s mind that it’s really him. Because Richie Tozier can sound like almost anybody in the world, but there’s no one that can sound like Richie. Even Pennywise never tried to imitate him. Because no one can. That, Eddie is sure of.

Dead is… Eddie is a nurse, and he’s no stranger to death. Richie was dead. No one could survive that kind of blood loss. But that also doesn’t change the fact that Richie is standing in front of him, in his apartment somehow, alive and breathing and miraculously free of giant holes in his chest. Also, this past weekend has had Eddie really rethinking his personal beliefs on what is and isn’t possible.

“Oh god, Richie—” Eddie reaches out and places a hand on Richie’s chest. Richie doesn’t stop him, but he also doesn’t react other than staring at Eddie’s hand, like he’s still unconvinced that Eddie is really Eddie.

Also he’s apparently speechless for the first time in his life.

“What the fuck,” he breathes out. His heartbeat is pounding beneath Eddie’s fingers. “I… we had to leave you. God, I tried to—”

“What?” Eddie interrupts him. “You died. Right in my arms, like, right in front of my fucking face and then you all got sucked into that pit and I—”

“What? No. Wh--wait. Wait wait wait. How did you find my apartment?” Richie demands.

“Uh, excuse me, this is my—”

But Eddie doesn’t finish that sentence because at that moment he looks past Richie into the living room and his point dies on the tip of his tongue. This is not his apartment. The doormat wasn’t lying. This is some kind of bachelor pad nightmare. One sofa, no art on the walls, a TV that’s too big for the room. Eddie glances up at the number on the door. Seven. It’s the right number, the outside of the place looks right…

“What did you do to my house?!” Eddie cries, because of course he’s happy Richie is alive—too happy to even process it properly—but he’s not going to pretend he won’t be pissed if Richie donated all of his good Pottery Barn furniture.

“Your— I live here, dipshit,” says Richie, apparently kind of snapping out of it. “I’ve lived here for like ten years.”

“You told me you lived in Chicago and—”

“Yeah,” says Richie. “Well, like kind of. I have an apartment there, usually sublet it. Didn’t think I needed to get into my whole real estate history, cause it’s not like we had bigger things to worry about.”

“Just—”

“You know what?” says Richie. “Just fucking come in. Let’s...can you call Mike?”

“Mike isn’t dead either?!” Eddie cries. What--How--

“Of course not,” says Richie. “I mean he better not be, I’ve been texting him all day.”

Eddie takes his phone out of his pocket and goes to his recent call history. He taps on the Derry number that called him the other day, back in another fucking lifetime, while rolling his suitcase into this like sham of an apartment that apparently Richie lives in.

We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed…

“You try Mike,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “My phone says his number is disconnected.”

Richie is texting furiously. He sinks down into the couch.

“Does that thing have like bed bugs?” Eddie asks, because the couch looks kind of suspect if he’s being honest. Like the kind of thing Richie might have dragged in off the sidewalk.

Richie makes a face. “No, what the fuck, of course not.”

Eddie sits down next to him on the edge of his seat, still not entirely convinced about the bed bug situation.

“I’m gonna FaceTime Mike, cause…” Richie shakes his head. “Fuck, I don’t know. Mike’s the crazy bitch with all the answers, right?”

Richie then does something kind of un-Richie-ish. He turns to the side and drops his head on Eddie’s shoulder, inhaling shakily and deeply. It’s then that Eddie notices his coffee table is littered with tissues.

“What?” Eddie asks him. He gets the distinct impression that Richie is about to cry, maybe, which is terrifying. And that’s stupid because Eddie works in a goddamn hospital. He deals with crying people every day. But there’s something about being around Richie that just… He feels like they’ve fallen back into the dynamic they had when they were kids. And teenage Eddie wouldn’t have known how to deal with Richie crying and so adult Eddie is kind of panicking over the thought of trying to figure that shit out on the fly.

If Richie starts crying, Eddie probably will too. This situation is… Honestly, it’s super overwhelming. He doesn’t feel equipped to deal with this fuckery.

Just then though, Mike picks up. Like a flash, Richie lifts his head up off Eddie’s shoulder and shoots Mike a shit-eating grin.

“Explain this shit, Mikey,” he says, and turns the screen to face Eddie.

Mike immediately drops his phone.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter two #my fics #impossible things fic #fanfic #losers club #it chapter two spoilers

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bobdangit · 4 years

Text

That's Not Very Gucci Of You || Bob & Vashti

Bob tries to conduct his back-alley deals in private. Vashti is not so obliging. Especially when she suspects the lives of fellow snakes are on the line.

Just looking at the window display of the Candy House was enough to give Bob diabetes. Think of the money. Don’t think of the chocolate mice. He tore his eyes away with some effort, focusing instead on the uniformed girl behind the counter. Hildegaard said her name tag, as she continued to beat pastries with a spatula. She looked several feet too short and was without the requisite number of gold teeth to be Bob’s contact. Approaching her with perfect sheepishness, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me, miss. Have you seen a man wandering through here? Big as a Dumpster, pushing around a trolley—” He didn’t get much further than that, cut off too fast by the staccato machine-gun fire of footsteps.

The second the doorbell chimed at 3:45 on a Saturday afternoon instead of 10:30 that same Saturday morning, Vashti untied her apron and slammed it on the bench in a huff, stomping towards the door from the kitchen to the floor and wrenching it back with enough force that its own welcome bells rung Mike the Delivery Guy’s impending doom rather than tinkling a cheery hello.

Vashti of Barzrud waited for nobody.

“You were supposed to be here five hours ago with my fresh raspberries, you moron,” she hissed at Mike at the counter as soon as the door flung open, her finger jabbing the air towards him as she approached with fury etched upon her face. Her high heels click-clacked against the polished floors (against store policy, massive OH&S issue, slipped back on daily as soon as her boss left for the day), sounding like Freddy Krueger pulling his knives against a fence with the same homicidal intent. Hildegaard, about to reply to whatever Mike the Delivery Guy had been saying to her, scuttled away immediately.

“For Paimon’s sake, it’s 3:45 next week, not this -” Suddenly, Vashti cut herself off. This guy was not Mike the Delivery Guy. He could have been Mike the Delivery Guy (generic, white, wrinkly old human male the colour of a pale boot heel), but he wasn’t wearing the Mike the Delivery Guy uniform, nor did he enter with any berries in tow. He was just a Guy. A customer. Vashti narrowed her eyes. Hardly made any difference to her.

“And what do you want?” she asked. Unapologetic. Coldly.

Bob got as far as, “Uh.” He tried pointing in the direction that Hildegaard had been a second ago, now finding himself staring at thin air. The dark-haired girl teetering on stilt-like high heels didn’t seem like his contact either. “Hi,” he said, pulling himself together. He flashed her a wide, if not slightly insurance-salesman-like, smile. “Raspberries, you say? Why don’t I get cracking on that right away for you. My associate—he does the actual deliveries, you see, drives the van—must be around here somewhere. He’s about yea high, grunts a lot, very much a Mainer. Let me go rustle him up and you’ll have your produce in a minute.”

Vashti narrowed her eyes, wholly unimpressed. So he was connected to her missing delivery, and was apparently simple-minded enough to think it wise to take one step into her shop without her premium Autumn Bliss raspberries to show for it. Pulling up the counter hinge, she barged past not-Mike as she stalked towards the entry, barely even glancing at him. “The pair of you idiots have already wasted my entire afternoon,” she shot back, eyes already scanning outside the window for the van. “I wouldn’t trust you to find the bell at the end of your dick, much less your associate and my raspberries.” With that the door to the Candy House clattered shut behind her, high-heels growing fainter against cobble stones as she searched for her promised bounty.

“Whoa, not that way,” Bob began to protest, but it was too late. Miranda Priestly Mini had already swished out the back door of the store. (Well, maybe not Mini so much. She was already taller than him.) No doubt, she was about to get up close and personal with Bob’s buyer. He all but ran after her, emerging into the alley to discover his suspicions were totally correct. There was the candy girl on one end. On the other, like a bad, bad Mexican standoff, was the man that Bob had come to meet. Six feet four; beard big enough to nest several small woodland creatures; pockets of his motorcycle jacket bulging with cash. Or a Sig Sauer. Hard to tell. Bob stepped up unobtrusively behind the candy girl, signalling to the contact that the deal had to be put off. Signals such as shaking his head, slicing one hand across his throat, and every possible non-verbal synonym of ‘no’. Tall Boy simply replied by taking a menacing step forward.

“Skin,” he growled. “You got it?”

Rounding the corner into the alley beside the Candy House, Vashti just about smacked straight into the Hell’s Angel on steroids that was waiting by the store dumpster. He took up almost the entire walkway, and whoever he was, he definitely wasn’t Mike the Delivery Guy. The only thing she knew for certain: he was right in the middle of her road.

“Skin?” She echoed, putting her hands on her hips, the tips of her claw-like rose petal pink manicure digging into the fabric of her uniform. She fixed him with dark eyes as she looked him up and down, even less impressed than she was before, until she threw up her hands in exasperated defeat. “Skin? Listen, I’ll have your skin decorating my lampshades if somebody doesn’t get my Andras damned raspberries to me in the next five minutes. Now if you’re going to magic them out of thin air, great. If not, get the hell out of my way.”

Bob, wincing, tried to butt in: “Hi. Excuse me,” and the meatlocker glanced irritably in his direction. “Are you Mister—” Bob checked the name scribbled on his hand real quick— “Ted? You’re my three-thirty. Nice to meet you. If we could just…” It took some manoeuvring but he managed to wriggle into the tiny bit of space between the twin skyscrapers of the candy girl and the man capable of snapping her like a twig. “You want the, uh, goods?” Bob had to mutter the last part out of the corner of his mouth, but he laid it on as meaningfully as he could. Short of a lobotomy, there was no way for Donkey Kong to mistake it. “I got it right here. We don’t have to make a scene.” Reaching into his windbreaker, Bob held out a brown-paper-and-string parcel for the buyer to take. It was innocuous enough, except for one thin, long rip in the paper through which the scales of the ill-gotten lamia skin gleamed.

Not-Mike had gone unnoticed behind her. When he suddenly began worming his way between her and the human barge, Vashti recoiled in disgust as he nearly touched her in the close confines. So far, she’d successfully gone without human touch and she had no plans to have them brush up against her with their filth any time soon.

We don’t have to make a scene? What was he even talking about? Vashti began to ask as much until her eyes tracked down to where Not-Mike was pulling out a bundle that definitely wasn’t her raspberries from his jacket. Something was glimmering inside, a beautiful, lustrous copper, and as she noticed it Vashti’s heart plummeted deep into her stomach.

From Not-Mike’s hands, she grabbed the package, tearing it open with savage intensity. Lamia skin.

Vashti stared at it a moment. It was like holding the skin of a murdered loved one (if she had loved ones to speak of) in her hands, and for the first time since the fateful night in Iran, she paled, heart twisting. From the package, her gaze drifted downwards to the man’s boots. What were they made of? No prizes there.

She turned on the man immediately, hardened features dissolving as she waved the package in the air above her head. “What do you want with this?” she snarled, pushing Not-Mike to the side into the alley wall until she remembered his role in procuring it in the first place. Then she whirled on him too, jabbing the package into his chest.

“Where did you get this? Where?”

Oh, bugger. Bob was seventy-five percent concerned about himself, and marginally concerned for the candy girl… Oh, she had a name tag. “Vashti.” Saying it aloud had no impact. He was still flat against the wall, and Ted still loomed over her shoulder, looking none-too-pleased. “Vashti, listen to me here, that thing you’re holding? That’s not yours. It’s a little concept called… Ah, never mind.” Taking advantage of the fact that she was literally sticking him with it, Bob yanked it out of her hands. “Hey, Ted. Ted, we can sort this out nice and easy.”

Too late. Ted was in no mood to negotiate. He let loose a single word, “Double-crossers,” before he ran at the pair, meat-hook sized hands extended to catch them by the throats.

Somehow, the human possessed the audacity to swipe the package back from her, offering it back to the meatheaded one like he was playing here kitty, kitty, kitty with a particularly stupid lion. Vashti was just about to yank it back when there was a shift in the air, a primal yell, and she had a split second to turn and see him lunging for her and the human (Yes, he was a double-crosser! Where were her raspberries?) before she stumbled from surprise, her stiletto heel giving way.

Grabbing the human to steady her, she succeeded only in dragging them both down to the dirt. The package went flying through the air, Vashti crying out in dismay as she watched it hit uselessly against the wall, further tearing it so the delicate skin slapped into a puddle of mud by the dumpster.

Bob could only stare as six months’ hard work and reconnaissance went flying into the mud. A howl of sheer mourning was building up in his chest, but he had to think fast. Think practical. Ted was momentarily distracted with fishing the lamia skin out of the gutter. Meanwhile, Bob had himself and Vashti to take care of. He hoped that ankle of hers wasn’t twisted. He hoped it didn’t hurt. Much. Scrambling to his feet, he shoved at her in a silent urge that she do the same. Ted’s back was turned to them, making this their only chance at a getaway.

Except.

That was three grand easy in Ted’s pockets right now, and Bob hadn’t risked life and potential facial scarring to walk away from this unpaid. He glanced at Vashti, murmuring, “One-two-three, and we rush him, okay?” And then he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Hey, big guy! The lady here would’a like to apologise!”

Following the human’s lead, Vashti scrabbled to get back onto two legs, her heels doing the utmost best to keep her from a smooth recovery. The one that had stumbled her had twisted at the sole and bruised her ankle and she hobbled as she kicked one, then both of them off. She threw a glance back at them hopelessly. They were Gucci and they were ruined.

One-two-three, and we rush him, okay?

“Oh, you...” Vashti began, venom contorting her features and seeping from every one of her pores. The next words that spilled from his mouth just confirmed it - he was going to die, and he was going to die painfully.

“I’ll apologise by making sure the casket stays closed at the funeral of your seraphspawns!” she yelled at Big Ted. Then she turned back to the Not-Mike Human. “Is that a good enough apology for you?” she spat. “Huh?”

Bob didn’t rise to the bait. “Rush ‘im was the plan,” he said, not waiting for an answer as he dived straight towards the oncoming Ted. Ted, about the size and intelligence of a Zamboni. Bob, fast-approaching sixty but genetics was on his side. Preternatural strength and all that. He put his shoulder to Ted, heaving hard.

If she were the type to do it, Vashti would have handed it to him - this human was unflappable. If he were a Greater Demon, he would have been hundreds of thousands - millions of years old for how old he was in human years, but still he rushed Ted like he was a far younger man.

Clearly, this was no garden variety human. As she watched as Ted was brought down from the safety of the concrete footpath where her stockings wouldn’t slip in the mud, Vashti’s eyes slid back to the sad bundle of lamia skin sitting in the muck. She steeled.

Near the dumpster, an abandoned beer bottle was lodged in the mud and Vashti swooped down to pick it up. The human, still struggling with Ted, had the back of his head to her and Vashti trod carefully through the muck to avoid slipping. As she neared, she raised it...

And brought it smashing down across Ted’s head, the bottle bursting into a cloud of green glass.

Bob realised about two seconds into the fight that not only was he on his own, he was going to fail a physics lesson about using Ted’s momentum against him if he didn’t do something fast. When Ted obliged him by crumpling to a heap on the ground… Well, maybe there was a benevolent God up there somewhere. In the empty air where Ted had been moments ago, now stood Small, Dark and Scowling. She was holding what was left of a glass bottle.

And still, Bob’s first reaction was to shove his hands into his pockets. Had to hide the wads of cash he’d filched from the inner lining of Ted’s jacket.

“Wow,” he said, not a beat later. “Vashti, right?” Gesturing at the broken bottle, the best he could still come up with was, “...Wow. You must’a really liked those shoes.”

A part of Vashti hadn’t really expected that to work as well as it did. Big Ted crumpled to the ground in a heap, but that was humans for you - little more resilient than flies.

She ignored the human as she scooped her shoes up, tossing them and the remnants of her beer bottle into the dumpster. As she did, she retrieved the package of skin that still lay beside it.

Considering it for a moment, she tucked it into her shirt.

Limping to the back door into the Candy House kitchen, Vashti turned back to the human just before she went back inside. “If I ever see you back around here again, I’ll make sure you don’t live to make it again. I don’t care what human you are.”

As the screen door shut behind her, a bitter voice called back out before she disappeared back into the depths of the shop.

“And yes, I really did like my shoes,” she said. “They were Gucci.”

#wickedswriting #cy: vashti #chatzy #that's not very gucci of you #i still don't understand this title because i'm old #but vashti made me laugh very hard during this

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almondharry · 5 years

Text

you look so good : one

you look so good [5.6k]

“You must think you’re so hilarious, don’t you?”

A charming smile crept on his face slowly. “It is why you married me, isn’t it?”

“I am beginning to rethink that decision. Not one of my finest moments.”

“You’re thirty years too late for that, love.”

There was a pause, then a loud scoff. Her jaw hung open in disbelief. The napkin that laid on her lap was flung towards his chest with a soft thump. “We’ve been married for 32 years, you wanker! Don’t tell me you forgot!”

Alexander and his Algebraic K Theory

September 2, 2019

It was a slow night. There was not a single car found between the thick yellow lines freshly painted in the lot. A flickering lamp post finally gave out. The moths previously circling it floated to the next one. Besides the elderly couple arguing over a crossword puzzle in their booth, there were crickets in the diner.

The checkered floors were swept and each table was found crumbless. With a broom in hand, she would pretend that she was a chess piece being moved strategically. Genevieve sat behind the counter with her chin in her palm, textbooks in front of her, and a highlighter in hand. With the cap caught between her teeth, Genevieve dragged the yellow ink over the numbers she found important. The mint green coloured plastic stool did little to relieve the ache at the bottom of her spine. Occasionally she would hum in tune with the soft melodies the local radio decided to play– the songs were interrupted by cracks after every three songs, a pattern she had observed. She preferred night shifts over day ones. When the diner was close to deserted, it gave her the perfect opportunity to crack open her books and get started on her coursework that she was weeks behind on.

Flo’s Diner was a well known spot for people to grab their fix of greasy comfort food. It was sandwiched between a laundromat and a music shop. Red leather booths lined the perimeter and mismatched frames of posters and photographs hung on the walls. There was even a twenty year old menu, slightly browning and curving in at the corners, behind protected glass.

“Excuse me! Dear!”

Genevieve abandoned her work, her fingers expertly gripped the neck of a steel teapot before carrying it over to the booth the voice came from.

“More tea?” she offered with the raised pot.

“Oh no, darling, I just called you over so you can tell Eugene that cholesterol is the word he is looking for in the across.” The man sitting across from her had grey hair that was combed neatly to one side. He wore a deeply indented frown on his face. He grumbled something under his breath as he kept his eyes glued to the newspaper in front of him. “I tried telling him, but he has suddenly decided to ignore my existence. Couldn’t watch him struggle like that. It’s painful, really.”

“Well.” Eugene squinted his eyes behind his glasses to read the name tag on the left pocket. “Genevieve, maybe you can help me to find a four letter word that is a synonym for annoying.” Eugene crumpled his face in thought, his eyes brightened a moment later. “Nevermind I’ve got it! It’s W-I-F-E.”

A chuckle scratched the back of Genevieve’s throat. She tried to distract herself by tipping the pot to refill their cups with pursed lips, but it tumbled out and Eugene grinned. This only prompted his wife to cross her arms and narrow her eyes at him across the table.

“You must think you’re so hilarious, don’t you?”

A charming smile crept on his face slowly. “It is why you married me, isn’t it?”

“I am beginning to rethink that decision. Not one of my finest moments.”

“You’re thirty years too late for that, love.”

His face stretched into a wide smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling upwards. “Of course I knew, Maggie. Just keeping you on your toes.” His left eye dropped in a quick wink. “Genevieve, can we have the bill, please?”

“I’m on it.” She nodded and headed towards the register to print out their receipt. Genevieve exchanged their dirty plates with a credit card machine, not forgetting to include a few chocolates that are kept in a jar by the register. On her way back, she heard Maggie smack Eugene's hand away from the sweets.

“No chocolates for you.”

“One won’t knock me dead,” Eugene counters with a huff.

“Tell that to your diabetes specialist next time, won’t you? I’m sure he’d love to hear all about that.”

By the time Genevieve returned from the kitchen, Eugene and Maggie had gotten up. He was helping Maggie with her walker by the front door. They would be bundled in scarves and hats in no time.

“Have a great night!” Genevieve called out with a smile and a wave. Similar goodbyes were echoed back, and Genevieve went back to their booth.

The clanking of the bell–much like one that would be strapped around a cow’s neck– above the door signified that she was the only one left in the diner other than Walter, who was prepping in the kitchen for breakfast meals. Walter was quiet as a mouse, making a noise only when absolutely necessary, so it was her and her books for the rest of the night.

Genevieve cleared the table of the machine and she swept up the small crumbs left behind with a dishrag. She folded the discarded crossword and the flimsy paper crumpled under her hold. She rearranged the condiments into their set spot. As she fiddled with the jam holders, the bell above the door chimed once again.

Without turning towards the door, she called out, “Forget something?” She scanned the table for keys, wallets, anything of importance. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for customers to rush back in for their valuables a minute or two after leaving the diner—but Genevieve didn’t see anything left behind.

Her brows furrowed when no one responded, and she turned around to discover Maggie and Eugene were long gone.

The lanky figure that stood across from her was disgustingly familiar. His jeans had rips at the knees and his boots were on the brink of falling apart. The wind outside had coloured his cheeks and thrown his hair in a way that veiled his eyes. It was shorter now, more blunt than she recalled. The longest strand–that once would hit his chin–sat at the tip of his nose.

Genevieve was the first to grasp a handle on the situation, as he was too busy struggling to remove a folded book from the pocket of his denim jacket to notice the scene.

He hadn’t seen her yet.

She still had time to get away.

The impulse thought was to plan an exit. There was a back door on the other side of the restaurant. Too far. She could grab a seat at any booth and stay out of sight. Or– the kitchen door was only a couple of steps away. If she acted fast enough, maybe even ducked her head down, she would go unnoticed. She could beg Walter to take his order and hide in the back until he got up and left.

In the midst of her plotting her exit, her body betrayed her. Her feet felt like heavy frozen blocks, cemented to the tiles beneath. Somehow her throat became wrapped with spiky barbed wire. Her hands were damp and fingers pruned as if she had just wiped them with a rag after drying wet dishes.

A hand swept his hair back to clear his sight, and Genevieve wanted to become as invisible as the crumbs lodged between the tiny cracks of the tables.

His lips parted and his eyes blinked quickly, the urgency reminding her of flapping butterfly wings. He swallowed a lump in his throat as his green eyes widened, becoming more awake and alert.

Genevieve was very familiar with his eyes, a shade of green like the plush moss that stuck to tree barks and abandoned stones. The corners of his eyes flicked up when he focused them in on her. There was no denying how beautiful he was. With his strong jaw and sharply contoured face, he turned heads immediately, he was something to be awed at. A sprinkling of colour dotted the high points of his face, meaning he had recently gotten some sun. But Genevieve paid close attention to his soft features, unable to tear her eyes from the slope of his neck and the dips of his bitten lips.

He was a bit too much at times. His presence could overwhelm and suffocate you. His shy smirks and beaming smiles and obnoxious laughter. He took up space and his beauty was borderline interrupting. Uninvited.

Despite it all, Genevieve despised how good he looked.

There are countless things in the world that sting. A sharp needle to a finger, a flat iron on high heat and of course, and, the worst of them all, Harry Styles walking in at Flo’s Diner.

“Genny?” Harry breathed out, his bottom lip curved into a perfectly cut slice of peach, and Genevieve almost winces in pain.

His voice is like sugar being melted over a pot set on high heat—sweet, caramelized, and could burn you if you let it.

There were sleepless nights where Genevieve had given a thought to this situation. What would happen if Harry stood in front of her? The scenarios she had concocted in her brain closely resembled hell freezing over. She was sure time would stop and the Earth would split open. But when she looked down at the floor, there were no cracks. It stayed intact. The needles on the clock continued to turn without a pause.

Harry Styles stood in front of Genevieve, and she felt nothing.

“It's been too long.”

When Harry took two steps closer and positioned his arms for what Genevieve knew too well to be a warm hug, she quickly retreated towards the pile of laminated menus.

Struggling to make her stale smile as welcoming as possible, she looked him in the eye. “Booth or table?”

Genevieve swallowed pennies as the silence prolonged, while Harry’s brows were curled in confusion from the formality. His arms held their place for a moment too long—awkward, expecting—but dropped them at the clanking of the bells above the door. Her chest visabily deflated, as if she was pricked with a sharp sewing needle, and her lips parted to sigh a breath of relief now that she and Harry were no longer alone. Somehow having others around steadied Genevieve’s heart rate.

A group of three came staggering in the diner with loud laughter and limbs intertwined from holding each other up. Their cheeks flushed and they wore matching grins.

“Harry! You didn’t even wait for us, tosser!”

“He went so fast! Did you see him? I did—” hiccup “—not.”

“It must be the long legs. How do you not get dizzy?”

Genevieve blinked back to Harry. His eyes were the clearest of the bunch, the supposed designated driver of the night. She tried to manage what one can only call a subpar attempt at a smile. It was plastic and stretched her face in a way that hurt. “I’ll get you a booth.” She nodded.

Harry noticed it didn’t reach her eyes. If this was a different time, he would’ve made it painstakingly obvious to her that she wasn’t fooling anyone. Instead, he let her turn away.

“At least his bum looked super cute.” A voice, Genevieve presumed to belong to Harry’s friend, giggled. “Have you been doing squats or some shit, because you were flat as a board!”

“Now that’s progress!”

“Must be those nasty green drinks.”

“Oi!” Harry interrupted their banter. “That’s enough from you lot.” The mischievous laughter subdued to amused snickers as the group struggled with their coats by the rack.

Genevieve busied herself with placing the menus on the table of the empty booth. The first one of the bunch to reach the booth was a pint sized girl. Her face was covered with orange freckles and her chopped hair sat below her chin. Her steps were a bit muddled in her short walk to the table, but she managed just fine to her seat. A strong scent of American Spirits followed her like a cloud heavy with rain. With heavy limbs, she plopped down and her face instantly laid on the cool surface. She let out a dreamy sigh and closed her eyes.

Harry took a seat across from the sleeping girl in the booth, and Genevieve scampered towards the kitchen. She went with the intention to let Walter know that orders will be coming up soon, even though she knew he didn’t need the heads up.

Harry used his index finger to poke at the flesh of the girl across him, but her arm didn’t move at all. This action was repeated twice and the same result was given. “Angie’s down, guys,” Harry called out to the rest of the group.

This caused the two vacant seats in the booth to be filled.

“Fuck, not again.”

“I’m not carrying her this time, I did twice before.”

“Zayn, she puked on me last time. I reckon you can carry her once more.”

“Oh sod off, Liza. She gets cranky and pulls out my hair, no bleeding way.”

“What if we just…” Liza leaned forward on her elbows that were supported by the table. She dropped her voice a couple octaves lower. Her eyes blinked from Harry’s sober ones to Zayn’s clouded. “Left her here? It would stop her from pulling this again.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger, his head shaking at their drunkenness. The fact that this was an actual topic of conversation and it was actually happening was insane, but nothing out of fashion.

Zayn tilted his chin, as if the possibility was a film tape reeling in his head.

“I am still very much conscious, thanks for your concern.” On cue, Angie raised her head up from her quick snooze. Her hair was tied in knots and a line of saliva connected her back to the table. “I love knowing I can depend on my lovely friends to look after me. What’s next? Leaving me an abandoned alley? Leaving me locked out? Oh wait, you lot have done that already! Cheers!”

“Oh stop exaggerating, Angie.” Liza rolled her eyes. The paper napkin was scrunched up and dragged over Angie’s mouth as she grimaced. “You are no angel here, you had your fair share of responsibility in that.”

“Let’s talk about how you guys wouldn’t be having this conversation if you left me with that fit bloke at—”

“Jesus, Angie,” Zayn groaned. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “We’ve talked about you using your shit coping mechanism to get over—”

The temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees. Icicles hung in the air. “If you utter her name, you are dead to me.”

Zayn sighed deeply at the hardened glare the messy girl shot his way. “Just saying you can do much better, yeah?” His words were soft, tender, and just what Angie needed to hear for the night.

“Yeah, Z.” Angie sighed, her shoulders dropping. She shifted in her seat and laid her head on the wall. “It’s just hard at first.”

Liza and Harry sat beside each other with their menus in hand.

“I say do whatever to get over that bitch, really. Sleep with whoever you want. I’m pretty sure that waitress was cute, get her number,” Liza suggested with a loose shrug of her shoulders. Harry’s knee jerked up and collided with the underside of the table. This caused the salt and pepper shakers to almost tip over.

Zayn shot a funny look, his brows drew together. “You alright, H?”

“Great, should we order now? I’m starved,” Harry prompted. “I have an early morning, so I need some food in me.”

When met with collective nods, Liza signalled Genevieve, who had just come out from behind the swinging kitchen doors. Genevieve plucked out a pen and a pad of paper that was stored in the front pocket of her apron. Each step she took towards their group made her want to take two back.

Liza was first up to order. She went for the scrambled eggs and avocado toast. Zayn ordered his black coffee and eggy bread. Genevieve tried to make eye contact with Angie, but she was still browsing the menu. She wanted to prolong avoiding a specific awaited conversation for as long as possible.

“I’ll have the number two special, but no eggs,” Harry spoke up.

“‘Course, will that be all?”

“I’ll get a tea.”

“How do you take it?” The question was simple, but to Harry it manifested a slap to the face. Genevieve knew well how he took his tea. He had taken it the same way for years on end. But the thing about people is that they change and grow apart. Harry’s lips parted slightly and the downward tilt to his brows deepened as he looked at Genevieve with a dumbfounded look that said really?

“Harry, mate, you done?” Zayn said, looking from Harry to Genevieve.

Harry cleared his throat quickly.

“Milk, two sugars.”

“Yeah.” Genevieve gave a nod and looked away.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Thanks, Genny,” said Harry. A drunken giggle followed right afterwards from the girl seated across from him. Angie cupped one side of her face as she stared at Harry with a dopey grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Even I’m not drunk enough to read her name tag wrong, you numpty.” Angie found the white tag pinned on the left of Genevieve’s chest and all eyes squinted to read the somewhat broken letters. “It’s Genevieve. That’s pretty.”

Genevieve cleared her throat. “Um, Gen is just fine.”

“Alright, Gen, can I please have some banana pancakes with extra syrup?” Angie asked. Genevieve nodded and scratched her pen against the miniature pad of paper. After she had written down all the orders, she began passing the pen between her fingers. “What else do you recommend here?”

“The eggs and bacon are really popular, I always go for the traditional English.”

“You see, I’m not really the traditional type, you know?”

This prompted Liza to terribly disguise her bubbling chuckle behind her pursed lips. The shifting pen in Genevieve’s hand halted. It also caused Harry’s boot to meet Angie’s shin.

“Bloody hell, Harry.” Angie scowled as she jumped further back into the plush cushion of the booth. “Are your legs fucking spazzing tonight? Do we need to take you to an A&E?”

“That’ll be all,” he interrupted. After he saw Genevieve’s back disappear into the kitchen, he narrowed his eyes at his scowling friend. “You’re ridiculous, Angie.”

“Loosen up, H. I was so close to getting her number, but I reckon you need it more. Why are you always so wound up?” Angie spat. “Live a little. You didn’t even have one drink tonight.”

“I have work tomorrow morning and I’d rather not show up half intoxicated.” Harry shot her a knowing look to which she responded by rolling her eyes.

“Alright, that was one time, okay!”

“One too many.” Harry smirked. “You know she tipped over a whole shelf of books on herself.”

“Did not.”

“Bloody hilarious.” Harry shook his head and smiled widely.

There was loud chatter, drunken mumbles, and bickering. Angie was complaining about an overdue assignment, Zayn had just came off the waitlist for his stats courses, Liza’s thumbs were typing away at her cell phone screen, and Harry was trying not to look at the swinging doors one too many times.

When Liza’s phone met the table and she leaned forward towards Harry, he sunk in his seat. He had been caught.

“You have the look,” Liza whispered, brown eyes narrowing at his green ones.

“Do I?”

“Hmm.” Liza was observant. She picked and prodded and critiqued until she would dig deep enough to find her pot of gold. She liked knowing things about people and places, she wasn’t afraid to get personal and into uncomfortable territory.

Harry found her nosiness particularly amusing when other people were under her investigation lamp. Especially when Zayn would bring girls home and they would be scampering in the morning. When the light was aimed at him, however, he froze, and sweat formed above his brow. “You’re jittery, your eyes are bouncing off the walls, and you’re calling girls by different names. Wanna tell me what it is now?”

“Just hungry is all, Liz.”

“Sure. I’ll just find out when I do.”

Angie and Zayn were preoccupied with their little side conversation to pay them any attention. Zayn had mentioned he had her professor before, so he knew the marking structure. Angie was bribing him into finishing her assignment.

“I’m not hiding anything.” Harry shrugged.

“I believe you.” Liz nodded, her back resting on the cushioned fabric. “For now, at least.”

Angie groaned dramatically, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “It's all numbers, Z, you know I can’t count above fifty. Whose brilliant idea was it to stick a maths course in an arts degree, anyway? What genius thought that the people who—”

“Angie—”

“Do me this one, and I’ll owe you.”

Zayn didn’t have a chance to answer since plates of warm food hit the table. Cheers from the group erupted. The heavenly smell was enough to quiet down any discussion.

Instead of Genevieve delivering the food, it was an older man with buzzed hair. He smiled, his eyes crinkling, and asked if there was anything else they needed. He filled their drinks and let them devour the greasy comfort.

“So good,” Liz moaned. Angie nodded and mumbled an incoherent agreement.

The three were too busy shoving forkfuls of food into their mouths to notice the missing waitress. Harry chewed his food slowly. Maybe it was a misunderstanding on his end. Did he really expect to hit play on something that had been paused for so long and watch things go back to his parameters of normal?

Change was unavoidable, and it was evident even in the small things. He noticed she preferred to leave her hair down now, instead of her previous pony tails. She wanted to be called Gen. Her eyes, once full of fight, were now barren, almost bleak. Harry wondered what else had changed as his fork scratched his plate. Did she really forget how he takes his tea? Or did she not want him around? He frowned at the thought.

Harry knew that Genevieve didn’t owe him warmth and comfort, besides, he got enough of that from the friends surrounding him. What Harry needed was to look in her eyes and not see vacancy.

***

October 25, 2019

“Jesus.” Liam shook his head when he spotted Genevieve by the tree across the street. Its roots ran deep, the width of the trunk was more than the length of her arms. There were framed pictures, a few candles and wilted flowers laid against it.

They both had matching stacks of photocopied paper. Each one identical.

Flatmate wanted. 3212 Ashford Street, Apt number 12. One bedroom. Parking available. On campus location. Utilities included. Call below for more details.

“I know I told you to put the fliers in prime locations, but I reckon above a student memorial isn’t the best of places. That’s poor marketing,” Liam whispered harshly as he jogged over.

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut your gob.”

Liam and Genevieve both knew she wasn’t here to stick a thumbtack onto the tree.

She squinted her eyes and crouched forward to get a better look at the framed picture. Gravel crunched loudly under the soles of her boots as her knees sunk into the dirt. The girl in the pictures was around her age. She was pale with short, dark brown hair and front bangs. The backdrop was a classic blue, the ones used for high school graduation photos. She had a thin smile and her eyes crinkled in the corners. Her name was written with neat swirly letters: Jenny Wu. There were notes about her being a loving sister, a daughter and a dedicated church volunteer.

“When was this?” Genevieve inquired, looking down at the handmade cards that had the weight of stones to keep from flying away.

She looked up at Liam. Behind him dark clouds were floating in. The wind had picked up and dimmed some of the flames. Genevieve pulled at her jumper to trap heat.

Liam scratched the back of his neck. “Almost two weeks? Maybe three.”

“Shit.” Genevieve breathed out.

“Drunk driver hit her when she was on her way home. Can you believe that? Some people can be so fucking reckless.” Liam scoffed as he crouched down beside her. He fixed some of the tiny frames that had toppled over. “She died on the scene before the ambulance arrived so they couldn’t do much, but the bloody tosser made it to the ICU.”

“That must be so hard for the family.” Genevieve reached in her pocket to pick out her cigarette lighter after spotting a few unlit candles. Her thumb helped to ignite a spark and she cupped the glass jars with her palm. She repeated this until there were a couple steady dancing flames.

“I saw them on the telly. The mother said something about forgiveness and not letting her grief turn into hatred of him.” Liam shifted to lean on the trunk, his arms folded as he looked down at her. “Like, that sounds like a terrific thing to actually do, but I can’t imagine myself especially in that situation. I would be up in flames.”

There was a moment when Genevieve saw snippets of what she assumed to be Jenny’s life. In her head, Jenny was a brazen girl with a sharp wit. She was studying politics and international relations and juggled a part-time job as a cashier. She was the head of the debate team and won their last championship. She had a younger brother who got on her every last nerve. She was learning to play the piano.

She liked to think each person had a well crafted formula to model their life. Each one unique and distinct from the other. Everyone was working towards balancing their equations. Some were lengthy and angry looking and some were simple and short. Essentially what mattered was that they always tended to work out.

Genevieve knew first hand that solving one of these formulas was like maneuvering a spider’s web. It could get messy, tangly and dizzy. Often times there were just too many unknown variables and sticky irrationals that needed to be ironed out. And on rare occasions, webs would seem to stretch out across empty fields.

“Yeah, me neither.” Genevieve stood up quickly. Her palms patted at her knee caps. “Let’s go? We still have a few.” She waved the stack of A4 papers.

Genevieve was halfway down the street when she realized there weren’t matching steps following her. She turned around and saw the curve of Liam’s back still slumped by the tree.

“C’mon, let's get you a flatmate! Sitting on your arse won’t make rent any cheaper!”

Liam sighed but got up with a low grunt.

Genevieve smiled. “Last one to the car gets dinner!”

***

“Oi!” Liam hissed. “You’re a bloody cheat!”

Genevieve looked over her shoulder and raised a brow. “How so?”

The sidewalk was a narrow strip with small potholes that held bowls of rainwater. Liam lagged behind, muttering under his breath. The glowing neon open sign of Peter’s was only a short distance away. Genevieve inhaled a breath and the aroma of gooey cheese and tomato sauce danced about. She glanced above just as the streetlights were beginning to flicker on.

“You were already ten steps ahead from me. Practically two away from the car.”

She grinned. “All I am hearing are excuses.”

“You’re making me buy you a pizza after knowing I can’t make rent and you cheated.”

“It would be the polite thing to do after your friend spent relentless hours across campus for your service.”

“It was hardly twenty minutes.”

Genevieve scoffed. “I still haven’t heard a thank you.”

Liam rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “You’ll get it when I find a decent flat mate.”

They were in front of the heavy door. Liam had picked up some speed and was closer to the door. His hand pulled at the handle, and a bell above sounded loudly. A comforting heatwave greeted them.

“After you.” Liam points his chin towards the inside. The shop was nothing fancy, it was owned by a family and had promising specials. Genevieve eyed the awaiting door. She blinked from his grasp to his eyes with brows shot up. “It’s just a door,” Liam chuckled. “You can hold it when we leave.”

As she placed their order of half cheese and half pineapple, Liam slipped out his phone. His thumb hurriedly typing over the keys. He craned his neck towards the door.

“Alright?” Genevieve raised a brow.

“Yeah, I have a friend from the radio coming by to drop a USB key for tonight’s show. Is that okay?”

Liam had gotten a new gig. Two students had got together to launch a student lead radio show on campus. Liam’s curiosity started a couple months earlier and the fliers across campus advertised they were looking to take on more people.

“‘Course! How is that coming along so far? You liking it?”

“Absolutely loving it, it’s fucking sick. Sometimes I think no one is actually listening, but then I get a call or a request to replay a certain track or talk more about a topic. It’s fun, keeps me on my toes.” He grinned, his teeth on display. “You should drop by, see the workings. It’s much more thrilling when you’re actually on air.”

“If my arse is ever up at 2 a.m on a Wednesday, Thursday or Monday, you’ll have my company.”

“We both know you, of all people, are,” Liam emphasized. Genevieve was notorious for her review and course work schedule that didn’t seem to have a beginning or an end. It lead to sleepless nights and cramped shoulders. “Doors are always open. It’s a dodgy basement, quite small, but there’s a couch that has your name on it. Smells like piss, so come at your own risk.”

“Creepy basements and pissed on couches, you’re really selling this to me, huh?” Genevieve raised a brow with a crooked smile. The door opened with a quiet jingling of the bells, bringing in a gust of cold air and a set of heavy doc marten boots.

“Promise it isn’t as bad as it sounds—”

“Don’t listen to him, its absolute shit with next to nothing funding.” A hand slaps the back of Liam’s back. “But beggars can’t be choosers, so we’re working with what we have. I’m Liza, by the way.”

She had full, tightly coiled curls that sat on her shoulders. They bounced as she looked from Liam to Genevieve. Her eyes were perfectly almond and a colour of honey that was only seen in magazines.

“I’m Gen.” She offered her a smile.

Liza’s lips puckered in thought for a moment, her index finger lightly tapping them. “Gen, Gen, sounds awfully familiar.”

“I’ve talked about her before in passing. She’s the one studying Maths.”

“Brave one, you are,” Liza hums, a sympathetic glaze washed her features. “Isn’t it one of the toughest courses? That’s all I’ve heard at least.”

“It’s not too bad.” Genevieve shrugged. “I’m keeping afloat.”

“Have you got the USB?” Liam implored.

Liza’s fingers dipped into the front pocket of her skinny jeans, presenting a stick the size of her thumb. “Oh, you’ll also be needing the keys to the panel, just make sure the grid is okay. I know the computer is freezing, Zayn will pop in to take a look at it.”

Genevieve had stepped aside quickly when her order was placed on the counter, leaving Liam and Liza to their conversation. There was a lot of nodding and a couple chuckles. She came back shortly with a medium sized white box.

“What are you two doing Thursday night?” Liza prompted with hopeful eyes. “I know it might be short notice, but I’m playing with my band at this pub. Both of you are expected.”

“You got the gig? That’s insane!” Liam gasped, his smile bearing teeth.

“We did!” Liza chuckled at his excitement. “It’s nothing fancy, and it’s one of our firsts, but gotta make it count. Bring your mates. The more the better.” The beeping of a car horn from outside, impatient and loud, made Liza shut her eyes tightly. “Fucking Angie has the patience of a two year old.”

“We will be there.” Liam nods, and Genevieve smiled.

“Cheers–” Another set of honks followed. “Fucking hell! I’ve got to run, text me if you’ve got any questions with that.” She pointed at the USB key in Liam’s hand while taking backward steps towards the door.

“Will do!” Liam waved dismissively.

She was gone as fast as she came. The doors swing shut, leaving Liam and Genevieve with another gust of cold air. She turned to Liam with a small smile. “She’s nice, I like her.”

“Yeah? She—” Before Liam could finish his thought, the door swung open again, this time with a bit more urgency. Heads snapped to the ringing of the bells. It was Liza, her eyes wide and a knowing gleam shining bright. An animated light bulb hovered over her head.

A loud snap. “Gen! From the Diner!”

“That’s me.” Genevieve shook her head with a laugh tumbling out from her lips. With another wave goodbye, she was gone.

“—Great.” Liam finished.

***

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marril96 · 5 years

Text

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 17: The Truth Won’t Set You Free

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Things don’t go exactly as planned.

Editor: @wonderifshelikesroses

Saturday.

The coldest, cruelest day so far this December.

The first day of your midterm preparations, the mere thought of which sent shivers of dread down your spine.

The day you were going to tell Rowena about Lucifer and Olivette.

That scared you more than the midterm. Just a tad, but still, it was a fear that made your blood run cold (though, to be fair, it may have been helped by the god-awful weather you were stuck in on your way to the MacLeods' residence).

What if she didn't believe you? What if she called you a liar to your face and told you she never wanted to see you again?

You shook your head, balling your gloved fists in your pockets. She wouldn't. The two of you were friends now. She wouldn't accuse you of something like that without giving you a chance to explain, to tell your side of the story.

Would she?

After all, she was still a mean girl. All the popularity, all the power she wielded was courtesy of Lucifer and Olivette. They'd given it to her, and they could easily take it away.

Would she let them?

Would she be willing to lose everything over a small indiscretion?

He cheated on her, you reminded yourself. With her best friend. Rowena was strong, prideful. She knew her worth. She would never let something like that go.

Even at the cost of losing her status?

Yes. Most definitely.

No, a traitorous voice in the back of your mind spoke up.

You ignored it.

Rowena had proven more than once that there was more to her than met the eye. She wasn't a mean girl cliche. She had layers. Depths. Sides you doubted her traitorous friends knew of. She wouldn't let someone walk all over her for something as silly as popularity.

She would believe you.

You repeated it to yourself over and over. A mantra, a prayer to any deity that would listen.

She would believe you.

The door swung open before you could knock and a figure froze in place, almost colliding with you. You flinched, startled, and took a cautious step back.

Crowley's face was the picture of rage, but upon seeing you, his expression softened. "Hello, girl."

"Hello, boy," you said. "You running away?"

"Believe me, I'm tempted. But no."

"And here I thought I'd never see you again."

"Don't look so heartbroken."

You pressed a hand to your heart theatrically. "You make me feel things, Crowley."

"I'm flattered," he quipped dryly. "The whore's all yours. I've had enough of her for a lifetime."

"Another fight?"

"What do you think?"

Ah.

The MacLeods and their drama.

You'd never seen siblings that were so hostile to each other.

"I'll take very good care of her," you teased.

Crowley snorted. "You can kill her for all I care. Ungrateful bitch." He smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. Diabetes inducing. "Well, don't let me keep you from your studies."

Damn.

Those were some serious words.

What could Rowena possibly have done to earn them?

"You're going out in this weather?" you asked, shivering at the mere thought of someone willingly leaving the warmth of their home for the unforgiving cold.

"I'll take the cold over the whore," he said simply.

A wink, a wave, and he was gone. Just like that. Probably on his way to one of his bars, looking for a girl or a boy whose company would get his mind off his sister and the drama at home.

Unlike him, you were looking forward to spending a few hours with Rowena. Your heart jumped at the thought of the two of you alone, buried in books and conversations. Skin brushing against skin by accident, but long enough to burn, to send electricity through you. Smiles playing off each other. School statuses forgotten.

She greeted you as soon as you stepped inside. She was clad in pants and a t-shirt, barefoot, hair pulled into a neat ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed with color. Pale skin pink. Eyes bright with life.

She'd gotten better.

"Your brother just ran away," you said.

She rolled her eyes. "I bloody hate that numbnut."

You chuckled. "I see you're better."

She smirked. Twirled around like a ballerina, then did a small bow. Theater actress in her element. "Why, of course. A wee flu can't hold me down for long."

"It picked a fight with the wrong person."

"Bloody right, it did!"

You burst into joint laughter.

Leaving your coat on the hanger in the hallway, you followed Rowena to her room. The house was warm, your frozen flesh and bones melting in the welcome heat.

"I got some more homework for you," you said, taking out the folded papers and handing it to her.

"How generous of you," she said as she took them and looked them over.

"Don't shoot the messenger."

"Worry not, dear. I'm unarmed."

You begged to differ. Her tongue was proven to be quite an effective weapon. Otherwise she wouldn't have had a record Principal Shurley could blackmail her with.

"These are easy," she said with a shrug, tossing the papers on her bed. "Ms. Hanscum worries too much."

"She doesn't want her favorite student to miss out," you said.

"Her best student," Rowena said smugly, earning an eye-roll from you. "And I'm not missing out. These new lessons are a joke."

You shrugged. "I'm not laughing."

"Someone of your… capabilities wouldn't," she said teasingly.

You flipped her off. "Cut the pretentious crap."

She chuckled. You followed suit.

There was a time, mere two months ago, when a conversation like that would have been serious. No teasing, no laughs — pure animosity, hatred dripping from every word.

How times had changed.

Instead of dreading seeing her, now you were looking forward to it. Anticipating it like a child the night before Christmas. Tutoring sessions had become the highlight of your days.

Even math seemed a bit more appealing than it used to. Just a teeny tiny bit, but still.

Rowena had made it happen.

The majority of the good in your life for the past few months, you realized, Rowena had made happen.

She'd made you like her.

As a person.

As a friend.

As…

As something you didn't dare put into words. Not here. Not now.

"You really think I'll pass?" you asked.

"Aye," Rowena said, not the least bit concerned. Casual as if she were talking about the weather. Noticing your uncertainty, she added, "These are all lessons we've worked on. You’ve managed to get good marks on those, haven't you?"

You did. Cs and a few Ds. Much to Ms. Hanscum's delight and your bafflement.

Math still barely made sense to you, and yet…

Here Rowena was, making it make sense.

This girl could make hieroglyphs make sense.

"Yeah, but…"

"But nothing. You'll pass the bloody midterm with a C!"

There was so much determination in her words, so much confidence that you believed her. She could tell you, in that same tone of voice, that she had superpowers and you would believe her.

"I'll take your word for it," you said half-seriously.

"You do that," she said. "I'm a professional. I know what I'm saying."

"You're a teacher now?"

"Considering I've been able to teach you what Ms. Hanscum couldn't, I'd say I'm a bloody good one."

Damn.

Your heart fluttered like a swarm of butterflies in your chest.

There was something… exciting about her confidence. Exhilarating. Attractive.

You recoiled at the thought, but the more you pondered on it, the truer it rang.

Confidence was attractive. Especially Rowena's. The girl was sure of her capabilities, of everything she could do. She knew who she was and what she could do, and she didn't let anyone tell her otherwise. Didn't let petty things such as poor understanding of math get in her way.

She knew her worth, and expected — demanded — you to know yours.

She would settle for nothing less.

Settling down on the bed, the two of you instantly got to work. You briefly got through this week's lessons, which, as Rowena explained them in detail, seemed much less incomprehensible than they did in class. For someone who hadn't been to class in five days, she had the perfect grasp on this new material. A superpower, if you'd ever known one.

She didn't get frustrated. Not even when you gave her that blank stare as if she'd just spoken some ancient, long-gone language. Not when she had to explain the same problem three times exactly the same way. Not when you followed her instructions and work she'd written down for the exact same problem and you still managed to get a different result.

In over two months she'd been tutoring you, she'd never gotten frustrated. Not once.

And when you got frustrated by your incompetence, she was quick to calm you down and explain yet again what it was you needed to do.

She spoke in a sweet tone of voice, one so unlike the tough, stern one you were used to. Your heart fluttered with every word that fell from her mouth.

Was that how she spoke to Lucifer when they were alone? Was she that sweet, that patient with him?

Only to end up cheated on. Betrayed by the two people who were supposed to care about her the most.

You would never do that to her. You would never lodge a knife in her back and pretend everything was fine. Never take her for granted.

Because, the truth was, Rowena MacLeod was amazing.

In so many ways.

The mean girl persona was just a facade.

The real Rowena was kind. Sweet. Gentle. Endlessly patient. She was caring, no matter how hard she pretended otherwise. A friend anyone would wish for.

If Lucifer and Olivette couldn't see it, they were blind.

Just like your friends were blind. You understood their concern, their protectiveness. It was only natural they wanted to keep you safe. But, at the very least, they had the best intentions at heart. They'd never gotten a chance to meet the Rowena you knew.

Lucifer and Olivette had.

And they didn't give a damn about her.

After you were done with the new lessons, Rowena started explaining some of the old ones. Those you were more in touch with, your memory of study sessions and numbers that made slightly more sense still fresh.

"See? You can do it," she said.

"That's just two lessons," you pointed out.

"Two lessons that you understand."

"Somewhat."

"Enough."

"Agree to disagree."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "You are one stubborn lass."

"I learned from the best," you retorted.

She glared, then sighed. "You will pass that midterm, or so help me."

You quirked up an eyebrow. "You gonna punish me?"

"Aye."

"Should I start calling you mom?"

"Mummy is more suitable," she teased, offering a suggestive wink.

Your cheeks burned, set alight with heat that spread all throughout your body. Heart jumped wildly as if in a race.

Good god, Rowena, you thought. Good fucking god!

This girl would be the death of you.

You chuckled, nervous, and turned your head in an attempt to hide your discomfort.

Not that you could. It was all out in the open, shouted out by your traitorous body.

Rowena smirked wickedly. She knew exactly what she was doing.

That little minx.

"Idiot," you said through giggles.

Her features smoothened into a look of pure innocence. "Whatever do you mean?"

You just shook your head. She knew what you meant, and she enjoyed it. Enjoyed teasing you. Enjoyed tormenting you like the cruel girl she was.

She gave a small chuckle, her toes curling up like a kitten's.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Curl your toes. I noticed you do it sometimes. It's…" Cute. Completely and utterly cute. So cute your insides melted every time she did it. "Weird."

Rowena's cheeks flushed red as her hair, making her even cuter. "It's a habit, from back when I did ballet. Pointing your feet every day gets exhausting, so…"

"This is like rest?" you assumed.

She nodded. "I guess it stayed with me."

"It's nice."

She stared.

"It is," you said. "Sorta… cute."

"You take that back!" she demanded, holding up her forefinger in warning.

You laughed. "Nope."

"I am not cute."

"You totally are."

The cutest girl you'd ever seen. The girl you felt so much for that calling it friendship wasn't enough.

Not anymore.

What you felt — what you wanted, what you craved — was something more. Much, much more.

Something you knew you would never get.

Rowena pouted, slapping your arm.

"Ow!" you exclaimed. "So rude."

"That's what you get for calling me cute."

"You're right," you conceded. "I should call you adorable."

The glare she threw at you had to have killed before.

You raised your hands up in surrender. "Don't shoot!"

"Another word and I will," she threatened.

You were tempted to keep up the banter, but elected to give it a rest for now. Instead, you said, "You coming to school Monday?"

"Aye," Rowena replied. "The good doctor cleared me."

"Cool," you said, trying to keep your enthusiasm at a minimum.

She wasn't fooled. "Missed me?"

You don't even know how much.

"Yeah. Had no one to glare at me and walk around like they owned the place."

That prompted her to snort. "I'm sure that's not true. Lucifer and Olivette were there every day."

Yes, they were.

Unfortunately.

But they weren't her.

They would never, ever be her.

"They come to visit you?" you asked.

She shook her head. "We texted."

You remembered their words. Remembered the scorn that dripped from them like poison. How needy Rowena was. How all she talked about was her sickness. How she always whined, and the only thing that saved her relationship was that she was good in bed.

Anger filled you at the memory. Your fists clenched to the point of pain, skin taut on your knuckles.

Now was the time to tell her. The time for her to find out what they were really like.

Just as you were about to speak, she said, "Fergus tried to make problems for us."

You furrowed your brows. "What?"

"Just before you got here. The numbnut said Lucifer is cheating on me." She chuckled. "As if."

So that was why he'd run out like that. Why he'd called her ungrateful.

Your blood ran cold. "Maybe he is," you said tentatively.

She looked at you as if you'd just said the Earth was flat. "I know my boyfriend. Lucifer is a lot of things, but he is not a cheater."

There was a touch of uncertainty on her face, but she quickly masked it, smoothed it clean as if it were dirt.

Heart sinking, you said, "He did grab my ass that one time."

And had undoubtedly done so, and even worse, to other girls. Girls who didn't dare punch him in the face for it. Girls who stilled with fear, or ran away in tears.

Men like him never stopped at just one.

"That was before we got together," Rowena said.

It was still wrong.

It was still sexual assault.

How could she be so casual about it? How could she not see it as a problem?

What was it about Lucifer Shirley that made her get over everything, that made her ignore so much of his bullshit?

His dick couldn't have been that good.

"He looks — everyone does — but he doesn't touch anymore," Rowena said, more to herself than you.

Lies.

All lies.

And she knew it.

Her mouth may have been willing to spew nonsense, but her face had enough decency to tell the truth.

She doubted Lucifer.

But she still remained loyal to him.

She refused to believe he touched other girls without permission. Refused to believe he cheated on her. Refused to acknowledge he wasn't the perfect boyfriend she'd deluded himself into thinking he was.

Willful ignorance.

It couldn't be true if she refused to accept it as such.

"And Fergus — he thinks he's on a stage," she said with a roll of her eyes." He sees drama everywhere. And when he doesn't, he creates it. I'll not let him use my relationship for his entertainment just because he's bored with his life."

Except, he wasn't.

Whatever it was he'd told her about, it had to have been true.

Crowley did tend to lie from time to time, but not about things like that. He wouldn't hurt her on purpose.

Yes, the two of them bickered and often spoke to each other like bitter enemies instead of siblings, but they still cared about each other.

He most likely had told her about Lucifer to piss her off, but he hadn't made it up.

Crowley was her brother. Her family. If she didn't — wouldn't — believe him, what chance was there that she would believe you?

You, who were nothing to her. Whom she barely considered a friend.

A lump formed in your throat, thick, suffocating. You swallowed it, teeth clenching, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt so tightly the fabric almost ripped.

You couldn't tell her.

Everything you'd heard — those horrible words and sounds — you had to keep to yourself.

Rowena couldn't know.

She didn't want to know.

If you uttered a single word, at best you would be a liar.

At worst…

You would lose her.

As much as she clearly cared about you, you were only her tutoring friend.

Olivette was her real friend.

Lucifer was her boyfriend.

Their word against yours, and, unlike Crowley, you had no blood ties to keep you in her life.

Instead of setting you free, the truth would ruin you. Rid you of everything you'd accomplished in the past few months.

You were in love with Rowena, so fucking much, and you had to lie to her.

And, good god, did it hurt.

*****

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#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #spn family #crowley #fergus macleod #my fics #high school au

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