#oh it's the chapter where that first tag becomes suddenly relevant

[kidlightnings]

ghost in the machine

chapter 3/4 | R-18 kim joon goo/oc trans!goo, stalking, under-negotiated kink, canon-typical violence, fucky power dynamics, full tag list on fic

"Let's add it to the terms of your employment. I choke you, you bite me? And you're responsible for dinner." "Does that make it prostitution?" I asked, testily. His mouth formed into the perfectly shocked o of affront. " That would be illegal ."

[ area man gains a talented, if odd employee while dealing with the absence of his partner. ]

#chapter 4 of this mess going up tomorrow #then maybe my mind will let me write the danjay lmao #lookism #kim joongoo #oh it's the chapter where that first tag becomes suddenly relevant

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

Chapter VI: Blurry truth

This moodboard is just woww! Thank you to the moodboard-goddess @flowers-in-your-hayr.

a/n: This is the last and also the longest chapter.I want to thank everyone who read, liked and reblogged Hidden Desires. It was my first time writing and I really enjoyed it. THANK YOU so much for the great feedback, that motivates me a lot.

Pairing: ALEX x Reader x MARCO

Spotify: Kiana Ledé & Jacquees- Only Fan

Words: 5541 (omg, I hope you read it anyway haha)

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, smut & dom/sub in the middle, again fluff and a lot of sadness in the end.

Tags: @heavenly1927 @ivarhoegh

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV - Chapter V

Summary:

Marco disappoints you again, Alex takes advantage of the situation and you doubt if you really know them. Will you give them another chance or leave Denmark forever?

You had your last day of work before your holidays and could leave earlier. You were very happy because you knew that the boys would also have free time the next week. You were hoping for a trip through Denmark.

You nervous and opened the apartment door, excited about their reactions.

"Hej, surprise, surprise, I'm at home." You said almosr singing it. You immediately noticed the beautifully set table. The white candles and gold-colored cutlery sprayed a romantic touch. The boys are usually very simple and plain, so this creativity really impressed you.

"Elskede, how nice that you are already here." Alex came out of his room. He always kissed you so soulfully, even when the kisses were short. You hugged him and put your arms around his neck and looked into his blue eyes, which enchanted you every time. He pressed your hip against his and rocked you slightly.

"I missed you. The table is so nicely decorated...-” You started but were interrupted.

"Hey Y / N, I didn't even know you'd come so early." It was a female familiar voice. Alex rolled his eyes and was clearly annoyed. You turned your head slightly and saw her from the corner of your eye. Clara. You were seething with anger. She was like a fly that keeps coming and you can't get rid of it.

"So nice that you can celebrate with us." She offered you a champagne.

"Thank you" You accepted the glass out of politeness.

"And what do we have to celebrate?" You asked confused and had to force yourself to smile.

" Our engagement, of course." You raised your eyebrow and had absolutely no clue what she meant. But you pretended you did, because you wanted to know what she had to say.

"Oh, exactly your engagement" Alex giggled. Your fake smile went away when you looked into Marco's face. He saw your anger, but didn't comment on anything.

,, Marco said he had already told you two about that. Don't you dear?” She looked at Marco with full conviction. You would have loved to tell her the whole truth and tell her what an asshole he is, but you kept silent and kept lying.

"I must have forgotten, I'm sorry. I congratulate you on your engagement. It's a shame I didn't notice anything about your deep deep love. But…you don't always have to be able to see everything. or not Marco?” You put particular emphasis on the word anything Your gaze was full of irony and you wanted to embarrass him.

Alex patted his shoulder and grinned. "You finally made the right decision, brother. Now everyone has what is theirs." Alex seemed to be enjoying the situation. He realized that your relationship with Marco was finally over. It was never the intention that Marco would fall in love with you. You put your hand on Clara's upper arm but kept distance.

“I wish you the best. But be careful sweetie, you know how charming our boys are. That would be tragic if he suddenly has another girlfriend and you don't even notice it.” You wink.

“I'm very lucky with Alex. He never lied and was always loyal.” You cuddled up to him and stroked his chest.

"I love you so much elskede" You kissed him deliberately, slowly and long, so that Marco sees it.

"I think we should sit down and eat." Marco felt uncomfortable and wanted to change the subject of conversation.

The mood was tense throughout the evening and Alex couldn't stand Clara talking anymore. He never liked her. Her childlike behavior annoyed you too.

Alex slid backwards with the chair and patted his thigh. "Elskede come and sit on my lap, I miss you when you sit so far away." You didn't have to think about the answer. Alex put one hand on your butt cheek and the other hand slipped under your skirt and placed it on your thigh.

,,So Clara you could stay here for the next few days. Y / N and I will go to see my parents tomorrow. " Alex smiled at you and stroked your cheek.

“I want to introduce them to this wonderful woman, my woman" He kissed you and his tongue gently brushed your lip. You didn't know anything about this plan, but the idea was great. Marco looked frustrated. He knew if his parents met you, you would become part of his family. And he ... he would lose you forever.

"You didn't tell me anything about your trip" He said briskly to Alex.

"It's not that relevant. We just tell each other the important things, right brother?” Alex looked at him angrily because he didn't know about the engagement either. Also, because Marco has never mentioned her lately. He didn't even know they were still together and now they are suddenly engaged. Alex looked at you like you were a goddess.

"I hope you are happy to see them too, elskede"

"It would be an honor." The joy could be seen in your face. For the first time you had the feeling that Alex was really serious about your relationship.

"Let's go into your room, I want to prepare my things for tomorrow and choose my clothes.” You drew circles on his chest with your finger and your gaze was directed to his crotch.

“Maybe we can spend a little more intimate time together.” Your hand slowly slid down his abs and your teeth sank gently into your lip.

"Can you remember the surprise when you blindfolded me? Maybe you can show me more of it." Your hand slipped under his shirt. It was a long time since you last felt his warm skin.

“Maybe you can tell me more about Ivar. I heard he is dominant and a little rude." Your lips were like magnets that attracted each other.

"He is much more than that" He whispered into your mouth. Clara moved closer to Marco.

"That seemed to have been a great surprise.”

“Oh yes, it was. It was very intense, I liked it. But Alex was definitely the best part of the whole surprise, I assure you sweetie." You looked briefly at Marco and noticed how he actually wanted to say something, but he couldn't.

"Honey, ask Alex what surprise that was, I want one too." She looked at him hopefully.

"Oh Marco knows exactly what surprise it was. He was there. You could really do that brother. You know how it works and you can definitely do it without me." You had to pull yourself together so that you didn't start laughing. Marco noticed exactly how malicious you were but did not allow himself to be provoked. You got up and leaned against the edge of the table.

“Let's go and leave them alone" You pulled his hand to make him stand up. He stood in front of you and and spread your legs with his thighs. Your skirt slid up. He grabbed your ass cheeks. He wanted to pick you up and carry you into the room.

"I think we should eat the cake now." Called Marco to stop him.

"I have another better candy in my room." Alex didn't look away from you and bit your lip. You had to giggle.

"We don't mean to be rude. Let's share a piece, okay?" You took the plate that Marco gave you. Your finger ran over the cream and made sure that Marco is watching you. Your lips wrapped around your finger licked the cream off.

"This taste reminds me of something." You said provocatively. Alex wanted to kiss the cream that fell on your thigh away, but you lifted his chin and rejected him.

"Not here, I can do it myself, thank you elskede".

You walked to the kitchen where Marco was standing. You hiked your skirt up and stretched your leg forward so that he could see your black lace panties and slowly wiped the drop away. You let your skirt down again and went close to his face, almost like you wanted to kiss him.

"You like to watch when I touch myself or not?" You whispered and touched his earlobes with your lips. You walked back to Alex and took him by the hand without a word and pulled him into the bedroom. You thought about whether you should close the door or whether you should leave a crack open. But you wanted to enjoy the time with Alex alone, so you closed it. You pushed him and he fell on the bed. You let your clothes slowly flow over your skin onto the floor. You removed your hair clip and your hair fell over your shoulder, lightly covering your nipples. Alex propped himself up on his elbows and admired your beautiful curves.

"So dear Ivar, show me your skills". You said demanding.

"Lie down here." He patted lightly on the middle of the bed.

"Put your arms up and stretch your legs" You followed all of his orders. He pressed his knees between your thighs. He took off his shirt and undid his zipper. You splayed your hands across his abs, feeling every single muscle. He lay down on you and pinned your wrists against the mattress.

"I said you should keep your arms up". He said firmly. His hand slid down your arm across your breasts and over your navel. He bypassed your pussy and touched your inner thighs. He reached around the back of your knee and knelt up your leg. You automatically lift your other leg and hooked both around his hip. He put his hand on your neck and gently choked you. His lips touched yours, but he didn't kiss you.

"Did I tell you to lift your leg?" He whispered against your lips. You tried to shake your head, but you couldn't.

"Lie face down and keep your arms up" You obey his orders without contradiction. Your pussy started to tingle. Not knowing what he was going to do, turned you on.He took your hair aside away from your face, so he could see your expressions. His warm skin on your naked back felt like a blanket.

"Say my name, slave!" His lips brushed your ear.

"Ivar" You mumbled against the pillow.

"Ivar what?” He said in a stern voice.

"My king Ivar"

“Good girl" He liked the way you submitted.He marked a trail of kisses on your back and bit your ass cheek. The slight pain made you moan briefly. Alex took off his pants and lay naked on top of you. His tongue ran over the back of your neck while his cock slide slowly up and down between your ass cheeks. You wanted it to slide into your pussy, so you lifted your ass up. Alex pulled your hair with one hand so that your face rose from the pillow.

"Are you disobedient again?"

"Fuck me". You begged him. He got off you and you thought it was over. You really wanted to have sex after the drama with Marco. You turned around and try to convince him, but he was faster. You felt the force of his hands on your ankles. He pulled you down until you were bent over the edge of the bed. You trusted him completely, so you were only frightened for a short moment and then immediately relaxed again.

“Now I have to punish you, slave” He knelt behind you and slapped your right butt. Your adrenaline level rose. He stroked your pussy with his cock and only sank the head of his dick into you. You closed your eyes and got goose bumps when it touched your entrance. You would cum quickly if his cock touched your walls. He wanted to tease you but actually he also teased himself. Alex bit back his moans every time when he felt your wet pussy. You tilted your head to one side, but he didn't see you. His gaze was directed up to the ceiling. He closed his eyes and bite his lower lip to control himself, at the same time he pressed his fingertips against your hip. You lowered your head and felt the tension in your muscles even more, it was so strong that it almost hurt. You just wanted to feel him, now, right now. You pressed your ass against his hip and his cock disappeared into your body, Alex groaned briefly but intensely. He held your hip firmly so that you couldn't bounce.

"I know you want that too." You reached under his palms and took his hands away from your body. He hardly gave any resistance. You knew if you stayed in this position, he would keep control of your movements. You turned around and pulled him back onto the bed. He leaned against the headboard and rubbed his dick. You crawled on the bed until you sat on his lap. You moaned at the same time as his cock stretched your walls and you began to ride him slowly. You hold on to his shoulders and tried to set a rhythm. You got warm and started to sweat but you didn’t care. Your ass cheeks pounded on his thighs and your pussy pulsed. Shock waves hit your body and you cried out his name like you never did before. You tried to keep the pace to made Alex cum too. You raked with one hand through his hair and felt his hard breathing on your throat. Your legs started shivering and you were slowly getting dizzy. His hands on your waist helped you keep the speed. His tongue brushed your hard nipples and you noticed how his moan got louder.

"I'm cuming" He mumbled softly against your chest and you increased the pace. He flooded himself into you. Your knees were already grazed and hurt a little. You stopped moving. He leaned his head on your chest and gave you a little kiss. You stroked the back of his head and gave him the kiss back.

You got off him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going? Come back here!" He patted his chest muscle.

"I'm all sweaty" You were ashamed.

"I don't mind, get here immediately and show me that you love me too." He grinned and held out his hand.You lay down again with your head on his chest as he wanted. You were tired even though it wasn't late. You could have fallen asleep easily, but there was something you had to talk about.

"Can I ask you something?” You stopped caressing him.

“Yes of course, always” He was still drawing circles with his fingers on the back of your hand.

“Did you plan the trip to your parents in advance? Or did you decide that spontaneously today?" You were very happy about the idea, but at the same time it made you feel as if Alex only wanted to take revenge on Marco. It confused you and you needed to clarify it. You didn't want to stand between them and even less be the reason for arguing.

"You know, I've thought about this several times, but I never dared to ask you, because of Marco. I didn't want to be rejected, so i didn't bring it up. I already told my parents about you when you were in Copenhagen for the first time and they keep asking for you too. Marco is my best friend, but you belong to me and I don't want to share you anymore. I want you to be happy and I want to be the one who makes you happy.” A tear ran down your cheek and you were just speechless.

Alex noticed the silence.

"Hey elskede, why are you crying?" He wiped away the tear with his thumb and kissed your forehead.

“I love you” You were touched by his honesty. Would your relationship have been different if Marco hadn't been there? How would it have been if you hadn't had sex with Marco? You remembered as Alex looked you in the eyes for the first time, you were immediately enchanted by those piercing blue eyes and after the first kiss you felt a firework of emotions. You just never admit your feelings. Maybe the situation with Marco blinded you, maybe… But now…you were quite sure…Alex is the man you love, and nobody will be able to change that.

"I love you too" You smirked, and it went quiet for a few seconds.

"Ah elskede, one more thing…” You looked up at him.

“That was a very gentle and empathic Ivar" You giggled.

********

His parents lived in a small village outside of Copenhagen. The way there wasn't too long, but you got up early because you decided to have breakfast out. You already knew Marco's trick. As soon as you are alone, he would jump at you like a hungry lion. You didn't feel like seeing him, nor did you want to hear his excuses again. Alex couldn't stand Clara anyway, so you left the apartment quickly.

You arrived at your favorite coffee house. You always got your caramel-chocolate capuccino there before your shifts.

"I think we should move in together; we should have an apartment to ourselves. We could live a little closer to the hospital. The airport would also be closer." Alex commented with his mouth full.

"You know apartments are more expensive in this area, but we could have a look at a few when we get back, if you want to" You were a little skeptical, but it would be the best you could do to strengthen your relationship.

"Elskede, I've been crawling in the mud for years now and I didn’t do it because I was bored and you have one of the best paid jobs in Denmark. You know we can afford it". He raised his eyebrow and hoped you meant that as a joke.

You were never cocky, on the contrary, you were humble before you met him and wanted to stay that way. You were proud of Alex and what he had achieved, but you never bragged. There were few people around you who knew who your boyfriend was and that was on purpose.

Alex paid the bill, just like he always did when you were out together. You got in the car and drove off. You drove through a cute village with small brown houses as he slowed down.

"Our house is up there." Your heart was pounding and your ears whizzed. He parked in front of the entrance and got out. Since you arrived, he couldn't stop grinning, his joy was huge. Alex opened the car door for you. Your legs felt like jelly and you didn't dare to get out. You were sweating even though a cool wind was blowing.

"Come on elskede, they don't bite." He held out his hand to you.

"Oh, my boy, haven't seen you in so long." His mother came out of the house, she saw you through the window. She hugged him tightly and gave him a kiss on his cheek. You didn't know how to greet her, so you remained silent and waited for her to speak to you.

“Mom, this is Y/N.” He spoke in Danish, but that didn't intimidate you. You took his hand and got out of the car. You saw in her face how she considered whether she should speak English to you.

"We usually speak English, but if you speak slowly, she understands Danish very well.” She looked relieved. She hugged you and welcomed you. Your hands were still shaking and sweaty. She accompanied you into the house and you met his dad too. A very warm man with a lot of charisma. Now you knew where Alex inherited it from. Alex took the bag from your hand and carried the suitcases inside. His sister wasn't home. You felt good and your nervousness slowly disappeared. Alex went to his room to deposit the bags and you followed him. You were still too shy to stay alone in a room with his parents. There were a few photos on his desk when he was younger. Always these beautiful blue eyes, you thought.

"How long are we going to stay here?"

"Do you want to go again? Don't you like it?" He grabbed your chin and stroked it with his thumb. He looked sad.

"No, not at all, I didn't mean that. I want to see everything. Where you went to school, where your favorite places are, just everything." You approach him without leaving a centimeter free between you, your lips almost kissed.

"I told my best friend that we would be arriving today. He has invited us to his place tonight. What do you think?" He grinned at you.

"We'll be there. I love you." You gave him a quick kiss before you heard his mom calling.

"The meal will be ready soon." Your lips almost kissed. You went the stairs down. Alex was holding your hand, but you weren't too comfortable with it, so pulled it away before they could see it.

"It smells lovely, thank you for having me" You smiled at her. You all sat at the table together and you got a little homesick. You missed your family and your friends, but the warmth of his family covered that feeling for a brief moment.

"And how do you like Vikings?" She asked and was curious about your answer.

"So ... uhm ... shall I be honest?" You looked at Alex. You were hoping for a sign from him, but he was only focused on his food.

"I only watched a few episodes.” You blushed.

“But Alex told me what the series is about." You commented and hoped that they are not disappointed. You wanted to make a good impression, but you didn't seem to succeed.

"Really? So, you don't know him because of the show?" She seemed surprised.

"No. Maybe I really have to watch the series."

"You have to know that he kisses other women on the series. So, if you get jealous you have to skip those episodes." Her honesty intimidated you. You knew from Alex that his previous girlfriend couldn't handle his fame and they often argued because of it.

"I think I should get through that; we didn't know each other at that time." You said confidently. Alex told them, how you met each other and how you emigrated to Denmark. Of course, he skipped the Marco-part.

His dad patted Alex's shoulder. "She is a tough woman. I like her." You blushed.

The conversation was cut off by Alex's phone. You were relieved because his mom's questions made you more and more nervous. They got more personal and you didn't want to say anything inappropriate.

"I said we'd be there in an hour, is that okay for you?" asked Alex, who had previously spoken to his best friend on the phone.

"Yes sure." You hadn't heard Alex speak Danish very often, only when he was alone with Marco. Hear him speak longer sounded very erotic. His voice was just perfect for this language.

"Maybe from now on we should always speak Danish, even when we get home.” You were ready to fully integrate into the culture, you wanted to feel like a Dane and act like a Dane.It would probably be weird at the beginning, but Alex seemed enthused about it and that made you feel good.

You helped clear the table and clean up the kitchen. His father stood with you at the sink. He put the clean glass in the cupboard and stepped closer to you.

"You are always welcome here, consider us as your second family. Alex is a good man, treat him well." He spoke in a low voice. It seemed important to him to tell you that in private. You looked into his eyes and realized that Alex means a lot to him. A tear gathered on the edge of your eyelid.

"Tusind tak..." Your voice was suppressed by your emotions so you couldn't pronounce it clearly.

"Elskede, are you ready, shall we go?" His father smiled at you one last time. You took a deep breath, nodded slightly and left.

"Have fun and drive carefully." His mom stroked Alex’s back and closed the door behind you.

******

Alex had such a big smile on his face when he saw him standing at the front door. He got out and they hopped towards each other. They hadn't seen each other in months. You didn't dare to join them, so you leaned against the car door and waited.

"Heeey, who is that?" He leaned back slightly. He patted Alex hard on the shoulder once, that made him take a lunge.

"That's Y / N, my girlfriend" He waves for you to go over to him.

"She's really hot, good choice"

"Nice to meet you". You shook his hand and ignored what he said.

"Dude, why don't you tell me that she understands Danish." He said grumpily to Alex."I'm sorry for my rudeness, my lady, please come in." Alex laughed. "He has always been a very honest person". Alex put his hand on your hip and let you go first.You sat on the sofa and he brought beer. You're going to drive back, so you just drank a coke. You didn't say that much during the evening because they talked about video games or about other friends you didn't know or about things from the past."Let's have a cigarette." Suggested his friend. Alex was a casual smoker, so he went with him on the balcony. You didn't like the smell, so you went to the bathroom. You didn't hurry, so you checked your cell phone and saw a message from Marco."I know you're mad, but I can explain it. Everything I've told you is true, please believe me." You deleted the message without replying and walked out of the bathroom.

You went back the corridor and noticed the beautiful pictures on the walls. The drawings were silhouettes of naked women. You stop at each picture to look closely; they were very aesthetic. The guys hadn't closed the balcony door completely so you could overhear the conversation, while admiring these pictures.

"... maybe; but believe me she's not the right one. I know you Alex. Talk to Alicia againand the problem will be resolved. Alicia loves you, she was here once and asked for you.” Your heart started pounding, and you didn't want to believe what you heard. You were frozen and couldn't move or say anything. Tears ran down your cheeks without you being able to control. You felt a pain in your chest and a pressure in your stomach. You were determined to confront Alex with it, but when you stood in the room and saw them outside, you got scared. You tried to listen carefully again.

"You once told me that your kisses on set were real. Then go and show her that." His friend continued to encourage him.

It got worse and worse with every word. You took your jacket and ran out of the house. You don't know where to go but you just wanted to get away. A bus drove to the bus stop. Maybe that was a sign.

You got in and bought a ticket back to his parents' house to pack your things. Your eyes were red from crying and your scarf was wet from the dripping tears. The knot in the throat kept pressing and you felt like you were suffocating. You rang the doorbell and hoped that they wouldn't ask any questions.

"Hej Y/N, come in, where is Alex?" His mom asked surprised and looked over your shoulder.

"He's not there. May I go into the room for a moment?" You answer briefly without looking her in the eye. She took a step to the side to let you in. You quickly tossed your clothes in your bag and walked back down the stairs.

"I thank you so much for your hospitality, I felt very comfortable. It was an honor meet you." The tears in the eyes made you see blurred. You remembered his father's words and worried about what he would think now.

"But dear, where are you going? What happened? Why are you crying?" His mom stroked your arm and was concerned about your miserable emotional condition.

"It's time to go back home…my real home." She knew immediately what you meant.

You went out and looked back one more time. Her sad face made you intensify your feelings and feel worse. A taxi picked you up and drove to Alex's apartment. Fortunately, you had the key in your handbag. You went in and tried to ignore Marco, who was having sex with Clara on the sofa. You packed the rest of your things. Marco followed you through the apartment and tried to stop you, but you didn't want to talk to anyone. You left the keys on the kitchen table and closed the door behind you.

You wanted to get to the airport quickly, so you paid the taxi driver to wait for you. On the way there, you tried to cover up your grief with make-up. Your fingers feel paralyzed, you couldn't hold the brush properly.

You were standing at the check-in when Alex tried to call you for the fourth time, you ignored every single call, but he kept trying. You passed the passport control and you knew it was over now. It was a good time in Denmark, but you couldn't take it anymore. They both lied to you, several times. You never loved anyone like you loved Alex, but you just seemed to be his time- waster to forget Alicia.

Someone knocked loud on the glass partition. Since everyone was looking there, you had to turn around too to see what was going on.

“Y / N don't go! Please come back! Y / N! I love you! Do not get on the plane!”. It was Alex. He knocked the pane so hard that it could easily break in. It was difficult for you to just walk away and ignore him. The desperation on his face could not be overlooked. You sat down in the waiting area in front of your gate and watched how he tried to gain access to you. But it didn't seem to work. He argued loudly with the security guard and saw how he often pointed to the departure screen and tried to explain something to him.

The man stayed relaxed and that seemed to work.

He went up to you. “Excuse me ma’am. There is someone who needs to talk to you urgently. He said he won't calm down until you go to him. Do you know this man?" You didn't want to attract more attention and followed the security guard.

"What are you doing? Where are you going? Why are you leaving me?" He wanted to take your hands, but you pulled them away.

"Ask Alicia". You said it callously. You wanted to start crying again but you had cried so much before that you didn't have a tear to spare.

"Forget what he said. He likes Alicia, that's true. But HE likes her, not me. Yes, we had a relationship during the shoots, but that's history. I don't have any feelings for her anymore. She wanted to be with me again, but I didn't want to. Believe me, if I had wanted that, I would have done it a long time ago. " He wanted to stroke your cheek, but you turned your head away. You didn't want to be blinded by lies again.

“Well she’s still asking for you”. You insisted.

“Yes and after that she fucked with him.”

"When I saw you in the pub for the first time, I immediately had the feeling that you were special. There was another completely empty table that night, but I wanted to sit next to you. If you get on that plane now, I'll follow you. I'll go to the counter and buy a flight ticket. And if I have to sit on the floor, I'll fly with you. I can't let you take my heart with you. I love you. Please, we can build a new life together." He held back a tear and it was the first time you saw him cry.

He took your hand and bowed his head. "Please.." He said weakly as his tear fell on your hand.

You turned away from him and took your suitcase and Alex realized how you had made up your mind. He covered his face with his hands so that no one could see his sadness.

You took Alex’s hand to look into his icy blue eyes. “Let’s go home.” You squeezed his hand and he understood that you will never let him go again.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #alex hogh andersen #alex&marco #alex høgh #vikings #hbovikings #marco ilsø #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk #ivar #ivar imagine #fanfiction #alex høgh andersen #alex hoegh andersen

[freddiesaysalright]

Part of Your World - Chapter 3

Ben!Prince Eric x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Prince Ben is trying to escape an arranged marriage. A young mermaid wants to escape the sea. Their paths cross and they may just be what the other is looking for.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @queen-paladin​, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​, @radiob-l-a-hblah​, @xviiarez​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: I’m sorry these chapters are taking so long, y’all. I have just been having a rough time. I hope y’all enjoy this update, though :D

Warning(s): None :)

Moodboard

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Chapter 3 here we go!!!

“You were waiting for me?” you questioned.

She snickered humorlessly. “Of course, princess. I keep track of all things going on in the ocean. I hoped you would consult me for help.”

You squared your shoulders. “I’ve heard rumors about you, Sycoria. Your help always comes with a price.”

“Well of course it does, darling,” she practically sang back. “All things have a price, not just my services. How would the world be if you could just get something from nothing?”

She began to slink around you, circling you, her eyes hungrily searching your form. You were apprehensive about this. But you had come this far. And you had to see Ben again.

“So, what is it you know about my desires?” you asked. 

“You want the human prince,” she answered. “In order to get him, you’ll have to become human.”

You blinked. “Is that something you’re capable of?”

“Oh, my dear,” she chuckled. “I can do anything.”

“And...and what would it cost me?” you asked.

She stopped in front of you and examined your face. 

“There will be two things,” she said. “One for each leg. The first, that pretty ring on your finger.”

“But -”

“It costs what it costs, darling,” she cut across you. “No haggling.”

You remained silent.

“That’s a good girl,” she praised sarcastically. “And get used to that. The second thing I want is your voice.”

“My voice?” you questioned. “But won’t I need my voice to get to know him?”

“Who needs all that?” she returned. “You’re beautiful! What else does he need to know about you?”

“I just think we should have some common interests and -”

She cut you off again. “Listen, girl. Men on the surface are not interested in a woman’s opinion or interests. You’re better off using that pretty face of yours.”

You frowned. That didn’t sound right to you. There was no way Ben had that view and tolerated Behati at the same time. Even if human society in general felt it, that was not Ben. But, that probably wasn’t relevant to Sycoria. You decided not to argue the point any further. Besides, who needed a voice when your souls had already met? You could find a way to communicate.

“Okay,” you said. “So, what’s the catch?”

“I’ll give you seven days to get the prince to fall in love with you,” she said with a sneer. “And he has to kiss you - true love’s kiss. If it happens, you will be a human permanently, and go on your merry way.”

“But if I don’t?”

“If you don’t,” she said. “I turn you into sea foam.”

You gasped and your stomach dropped. That was a rather harsh alternative! Conflict stirred within you. If you accomplished this, you would have all you ever wanted. But if you didn’t, there was a horrifying existence awaiting. Either way, there was no returning to your old life. The only way to do that was to swim away now. But your heart ached at the thought of missing out on your chance for Ben. So that wasn’t really an option. 

Sycoria extended her hand.

“Is it a deal?” she pressed.

You observed her outstretched palm and hesitated. Your heart was hammering against your chest. There was no turning back now. No matter what happened, your life would never be the same. And you didn’t want it to be.

“It’s a deal.”

She let out a wicked cackle as she took your hand. A gold thread appeared above your arms and wrapped itself around your clasped hands. It tightened on you and it felt warm against your skin. Sycoria waved her free hand above it and began to chant in a language you did not understand. 

Ben’s ring floated off your hand and slid itself onto Sycoria’s finger. Water began to swirl around the fins at the bottom of your tail. The whirlpool rose up around you, except for the hand still attached to the sea witch’s. 

Your tail began to heat up. You looked down and saw it glowing the same gold as the string that sealed your agreement. You watched as the fins and scales twisted up and deformed. Magically, your tail began to split in half. It wasn’t painful, but you did feel an odd ache as your scales disappeared and smooth skin took its place. Suddenly, you had thighs, knees, ankles, feet! You almost gasped, but you couldn’t. Not with fully human lungs.

Sycoria released your hand. The whirlpool began to shoot upwards, taking you with it. It pushed you all the way out of her cave, and then rocketed away. It moved so fast your vision was blurry. That might have also been from struggling to breathe. But you were abruptly far away from her lair, nothing around you for miles. Then, you began a projection upward. You hurtled toward the surface, desperate for air.

When you finally broke through, you gulped it in. Fresh air. It had never felt so precious to you. The whirlpool slowly brought you to the nearby shoreline. Then you felt it. Warm sand. Dazed, winded, exhausted, and alone, you collapsed into it. 

***

“There’s an island up ahead where we can stop,” Behati said, checking her map. “We’ve been there before.”

“Are there supplies there?” Ben asked.

“There are no people, but plenty of animals,” she explained. “Wild turkeys and the like. Plus, fresh fruits. We stocked up in your harbor, but I’d like some more things. Plus, we can give the girls some time off the ship.”

He shot her a sympathetic look. She smiled.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, little prince,” she said. “Soon enough, I will find Sycoria and break this curse. Until then, I won’t deprive my girls.”

“I want to help,” he told her. “With finding the sea witch.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in it,” she replied.

“Well, it’s coming from you,” he said. “You’re the most honest person I’ve ever met.”

“That really is saying something, considering I’m a pirate,” she teased.

He chuckled. “I trust you, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m flattered, but we agreed that this was temporary,” she said. “Finding Sycoria could take years, and you won’t want to be here that long.”

“Sure I will!” he protested.

She shook her head. “No, you won’t. Remember that girl that saved your life? Don’t you want to find her?”

“Well, yes, but she might not even be real,” he said. 

“How could you imagine a woman rescuing you?” she challenged. “I appreciate you, Ben, but you have your own journey. And I have mine.”

“Maybe I could help you first, and then you could help me,” he suggested.

She grinned. “They are too different, little prince.”

She began to walk away. He frowned.

“Why do you call me ‘little prince’ all the time?” he asked. “I’m not that much younger than you.”

She turned to face him with a smirk. “I may not look it, but I’m actually old enough to be your mother.”

“That old?”

With astonishing speed, she whipped around, removed her boot, and hurled it at him, hitting him square in the chest. He took the impact with a soft “oof” and caught the shoe before it fell to the deck. He could already feel a bruise forming.

“Shut up and get ready to anchor, porky mouth,” she said with a scowl. 

He chuckled again and tossed her shoe back to her. She shoved her foot into it and stomped away, slamming the door to her quarters. He laughed.

“I wouldn’t be so amused, Ben,” Ari said. “She may leave you on the island for that one.”

He stopped laughing. “Are you serious?”

She shrugged. Then she moved along to prepare to go to the island.

Before getting on the rowboat, Ben was assured he would be allowed to return to the ship. He joined Kay and Ari in their boat as the crew lowered it down. It hit the water with a soft splash and then the three of them - with two other boats - began to row toward the shore.

The water was smooth, with few waves, so their oars cut through it easily. They were able to reach the shore within minutes. 

As they all climbed out and hit the sand, Ben noticed something that made his brows draw together. It appeared to be...footprints. Footprints leading into the woods. He nudged Ari with his elbow as she finished throwing her oar down. She faced him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Look,” he said, pointing.

She followed his finger and saw it too. She whistled and everyone looked at her.

“Ben just pointed out something we all should be aware of,” she said. “Someone else has been on the island.”

They all exchanged a nervous look.

“You’ll see just over there, footprints leading into the foliage,” she went on. “Keep your weapons up and your senses sharp. We don’t know who this person is or what they’re capable of.”

“Couldn’t it be someone in need?” asked Sharna, another crew member. “If they’re alone, they might be a victim of a shipwreck.”

Ben had not considered that. He looked at Ari.

“That might be true,” she agreed. “But if that’s the case, they may be as defensive and guarded as we are. If they’ve been through trauma, they’ll be jumpy. We still have to have the utmost caution.”

They all nodded. Several of them drew daggers, while Ari retrieved her pistol. They all crouched low and started toward the tree line.

You were just heading back to the beach, hoping to see any sign of Behati’s ship. But before that, you needed water and to eat something. You’d found a creek in the jungle, and drank from it to ease your parched throat. On several of the bushes, you found berries. You plucked them from the branches and headed back to the sand to enjoy them. 

Walking was proving to be a bit of a challenge. You had to carefully consider each step, and parts of the path were painful against your feet. It didn’t occur to you how much the plant life could prick and poke at you. 

Legs were a lot wobblier than a tail. In the water, you didn’t really need balance. But the sturdiness of the ground beneath you was jarring. To have your surroundings be so rigid and unmoving was something you were really going to have to adjust to.

As you approached the beach and the tree line thinned out, you saw that there was already a group of people there. Your eyes immediately found Ben, but you noticed that all of them were on edge as they came toward the trees. They had their weapons drawn and were all staying close together. They hadn’t seen you yet.

You crouched behind a bush, feeling an odd stretch in your muscles. Knees and ankles were strange and not nearly as strong as you had hoped. You had to put down the fruit and use your hands to stay balanced.

Ben took a deep breath as he and the girls stopped just before the trees. He looked carefully among the thick green branches but couldn’t see anything or anyone. It set him even more on edge. Ari was looking back toward the tracks in the sand, brow furrowed. Ben followed her gaze.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“It looks like….whoever this was had trouble walking,” she said. “There are drag marks in the sand too, and places where it looks like they fell. I think Sharna’s right, this is probably someone in trouble.”

“If they’re struggling to walk, they can’t have gone far,” Ben pointed out. “Should we call out so we don’t startle them?”

Ari hesitated. “I’m not sure. They could still be dangerous. I don’t want any of us at risk, either.”

You heard their hushed conversation despite their efforts. Now that their shoulders had relaxed and their weapons had lowered, you felt like now was the time to meet them. You were only a few feet away. Slowly, you pushed yourself up.

Ben and Behati’s crew jumped back when they heard the bush rustle and you rose to your full height. They watched in awe as you appeared before them. It struck you suddenly that they were clothed and you were not. Humans covered themselves. It was a mystery to you as to why, but you stood out enough to feel embarrassed.

Ben had never seen a woman so beautiful. You felt familiar to him, like he had met you before, only he couldn’t place where it was. Something about your eyes gave him the feeling. You held his gaze with such a knowing look, he was certain you felt it too.

“It’s you!” he gasped. 

“What?” Ari questioned.

He stepped forward, ignoring her, and he approached you.

“Have we met before?” he asked.

You nodded, beaming. 

“You’re the one I’ve been looking for!” he cried.

He reached out for you, and you took his offered hand. To touch him sent such a thrill through your body, you nearly forgot that the others were there.

“Please, you’ve got to tell me your name,” he said. 

You started to say it, but no sound came from your throat. In your excitement, you forgot that your voice was gone. You thought for a moment about what to do. Then you decided to try something crazy. 

My name is Y/N, you signed to him.

His face fell. The disappointed expression that claimed it broke your heart.

“Oh, I must be mistaken,” he said. “The woman who saved me spoke to me.”

You tried to stay optimistic.

You know sign language? You asked.

He nodded. “Yes. My mother is deaf, so I learned it young.”

That made you smile. He offered a small one in return.

“D’you need help?” he asked.

You nodded your head. He looked you over, realizing just now that you were naked. Your hair covered your chest, the bush you hid behind blocked you from the waist down, but his cheeks still went pink. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“There,” he said, then turned to Ari. “Should we bring her to the ship?”

“Well, she’s a woman in need, Captain Behati will be happy to help her,” she said. “What did she say her name was?”

“Y/N,” Ben said, looking back at you. “That’s rather pretty.”

Thank you, you signed, your own face heating up now.

“Come on, Y/N,” Ari said. “Ben and I will take you to the ship while the rest of the girls do some hunting and gathering.”

Her smile was gentle. You immediately trusted her. Still holding Ben’s hand, you came out from behind the bush. You stumbled when you moved, and you fell right into Ben’s chest. He caught you in strong arms, with a soft laugh. You looked up at him apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You’ve really been through something, haven’t you?”

You nodded slowly. He helped you steady yourself, and the three of you headed back down the beach toward the row boat. He had to assist you into it, but you didn’t mind at all. You settled onto the little bench seat, wrapping his coat tighter around your shoulders. It smelled so nice. Something you didn’t notice the last time you were close to him. 

“I’ll row,” Ari said, picking up the oar before Ben could. “You need to be resting that arm.”

“It’s fine,” he protested, but she shook her head. “At least let me help push it.”

“Fine,” she said. “But nothing more after that. You really want to have to get it sewn up again?”

“God, no,” he sighed. “You can row.”

“That’s a good lad,” she said.

You smiled at their friendly exchange. It felt a bit odd once you were on the water to be floating in the boat. You had never noticed how much the water actually moved before. The rocking motion made your stomach churn. 

“So, Y/N, how’d you end up on the island?” Ben asked.

Shipwreck, you signed. 

You didn’t like to lie, but the truth was too unbelievable. 

“A shipwreck, eh?” he continued. “It must have been some journey for you. I didn’t see any debris.”

You blinked, surprised by this observation, but slid quickly back to a neutral expression.

I’m not sure how it happened or where, you signed. There was an explosion, and the next thing I knew, I was on the island.

“That’s scary,” he said. “I’m sorry you went through all that.”

Thank you, you signed. 

He put his hand on top of yours and you felt warm.

It didn’t take long to reach the ship. Ben had to help you again, since you struggled to stand up in the rocking boat. However, this time when you climbed up, there was a rope ladder. It was much easier without a tail. Ari came up behind you, and Ben climbed up last. Ari helped you over the edge, and you planted your feet on the ship. 

Behati emerged from her quarters when she heard the noise. Your jaw dropped when you saw her. She was so tall, and her skin was so dark and beautiful. She was a living legend, right in front of you.

Then you remembered that she had seen you for that fleeting moment after you rescued Ben. You saw the recognition in her eyes - as well as some confusion at your new appearance - and you shot her a pleading look. She gave you a curt nod. She would not reveal you.

“Captain, this is Y/N,” Ari said. “We found her on the island. Apparently there was a shipwreck.”

“I see,” Behati said. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But we’re happy to help you.”

“She got on a lot easier than I did,” Ben joked.

“She is not a man,” she returned with a chuckle.

“Well, she can’t speak,” he explained. “But she knows sign language.”

“You know sign language?” Behati questioned, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, my mother’s deaf,” he said again. “I was raised with it. I’m surprised you know it.”

“I meet all kinds of people, little prince,” she said. “I thought it would be useful to know. There are a few other crew members who know it as well.”

That’s a relief, you signed. 

“I bet,” she teased. “Can you imagine only being able to talk to Ben?”

“Hey!” he said with playful indignance. 

Their banter made you worry a bit. Could it be possible that Ben and the captain were already attached to each other? You were so certain that you had felt something after rescuing him, but what if it was only gratitude? What if you were doomed to Sycoria’s fate because he already loved another? 

 “Come,” Behati said. “We’ll get you some fresh clothes and some water, yeah?”

You nodded and followed her to her quarters. 

Ben watched you go, feeling an unfamiliar longing in his chest. The way your hair fell down your back and swished when you walked was mesmerizing. The way your hands moved so delicately when you signed charmed him. And your eyes were absolutely captivating. 

“How sweet,” Ari joked. “Ben’s got a crush.”

“I do not,” he returned, rolling his eyes.

Inside with Behati, she addressed the elephant in the room.

“So, last time we met, you were a mermaid,” she said. “Although, we weren’t properly introduced.”

You looked uncomfortably at the floor. She pushed some clothes into your arms, then cupped your chin to make you look at her.

“I won’t ask what made you do this, it’s not my business,” she said. “But there’s only one being I know with the power to make such a transformation….Sycoria.”

You held her gaze and nodded.

“Do you know how to find her?” she asked.

You shook your head before you signed, After she transformed me, she sent me away so fast, I was disoriented. I’m not sure how far away the island is from her lair.

“So, she’s in a lair somewhere,” Behati said. “It can’t be too far from here. What do you remember of it?”

Purple, you signed. It glows purple.

“Well, it’s a start,” she said. “Welcome aboard, Y/N. I’ll let you get dressed.”

She started to leave, but you grabbed her arm. She faced you.

Are you and Ben...together? You asked.

It was such an awkward thing. But you had to know now if you were wasting your time. She threw her head back and cackled.

“Oh, sweet sea child,” she wheezed, wiping her eyes. “The only one interested in Ben on this ship is you.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I’ve never wanted a man,” she said. “Nor will I. I have only ever loved women.”

And your crew? They’re all like you?

She nodded. “There are a few of us who enjoy men as well. But most of us don’t.”

I never thought that human attraction was as varied as the merpeople, you signed. We have many couples of varied genders.

“Humans are fascinating creatures, Y/N,” she told you. “I just hope they don’t disappoint you.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Never mind,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll leave you to it now.”

You took her arm again. Now - a little embarrassed - you signed, I don’t know how to put them on.

She chuckled. “I’ll help you, then. No worries.”

You thanked her and she showed you how to wear everything. They were simple clothes, and she taught you the words for everything - pants, shirt, boots, et cetera. Human garments were surprisingly comfortable, but Behati explained that most human women wore dresses, underneath which were these things called corsets. They sounded horrible to you, so you were grateful to be where you were.

“And one last thing,” Behati said, grabbing a hat and placing it on your head. “Protect that pretty skin from the sun.”

You smiled again at her. 

“We’ll need to do something about that hair,” she said. “I can braid it for you if you want.”

You nodded eagerly and plopped yourself down in her chair. She laughed and took her place behind you. You had extremely long hair, and just the few moments you spent on deck showed you the wind was going to be a problem. Thankfully, Behati twisted your hair into two beautiful braids, and you were ready to join the crew.

When you stepped out, Ben and Ari were waiting. 

“How does she look?” Behati asked, twirling you.

“Great!” Ben said, enthusiastically. “Although, she looks much too sweet to be a member of a pirate crew.”

Your face flushed and you toyed with one of your braids. He felt his heart skip a beat at your display of bashfulness. He thought you were...cute. Very cute.

“I agree,” Behati said. “But luckily, it’s not permanent. Perhaps we’ll find something more suitable for her at our next stop.”

“When’s that?” Ben wondered.

“Not far from here is a harbor town called Henrietta,” she told him. “We’re going to stop there to pick up things like clothes and weapons. Plus, there’s someone there I’d like Y/N to meet.”

You shot her a quizzical look. 

“Not to worry,” she said. “Ben will go with you.”

She explained nothing else, but returned to her quarters. 

She’s so mysterious, you signed.

“She is,” he agreed. “But she’s got a big heart.”

You nodded. 

So, you began. Was your mother born deaf or did she become deaf later in life?

“She was born deaf,” he said. “Were you born mute?”

You shook your head sadly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

It’s alright, you signed. It was sort of my choice. But that’s a long story. 

“Well, I’d love to hear it someday,” he said kindly.

I want to know more about you, you replied. What’s your mother’s name?

“Asenora,” he said. “My father’s name is James. They’re the king and queen.”

Tell me more.

You coaxed as much information as you could out of Ben before the crew returned from the island. It was nearly two hours of getting to know him. He told you a bit about his childhood and the way he ended up with Behati - since he was unaware you knew the story from your eavesdropping. 

“You’re a very easy person to talk to, Y/N,” Ben said. 

Probably because I’m not able to interrupt, you joked.

He chuckled. “Well, you said it.”

Not technically, you continued.

He full on laughed. “Look, the girls are coming back. But why don’t we continue this later? It’s been really lovely to have someone to chat to.”

You nodded. 

Absolutely, you signed. How can I help?

“Ari and I can show you,” he said.

He took your hand and led you over to her. As the small team returned, it was time to get ready to hoist the anchor and move again. And dinner had to be prepared. Ari showed you how to help, and you were eager to prove you could. As you helped her wind up a rope, you looked over at Ben, who was helping Behati sort the food and game they had collected on the island. He caught your eye and smiled. 

What you had felt after your rescue was still there, that much you knew. The only obstacle was getting to a place where you could explain everything to Ben. You just hoped he would believe you. But as you grinned at each other, you were as hopeful as you’d ever been.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x you #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x you #part of your world series

[a-lil-perspective]

Remember Me/Holding On (For Dear Life)

A/N: When I tell you I wept... I wept while creating this chapter. Here’s a bit different than what I normally write. Brother time. Verd’ika/Reader is not featured in this tidbit below. As much as this is her storyline post Order: 66, this is also very much the Bad Batch’s, and I’m alternating. I’m so happy to be bringing Echo into the mix, but this is incredibly sad. This chapter/scene is set less than three months after TCW episode ‘Victory and Death’... I’m sure you can guess where we’re going with that here. [Warnings: Angst, Mourning] @starflyer-104 @thegoodbatch @obiorbenkenobi @kriffingunlucky @karpasia @halzore @mangoberry43 @fxndxmxnxce @everyonehasanindividuality (Tag List is open:))

Chapter 2

Post-Imperial Proclamation

PIP Rotation Number: 79

Destination: Planet of Unknown Origins

Documentation: Scouting for Relics. Will update with any pertinence.

—Signed by Mar-4

~***~

“Well... at least the atmosphere is breathable,” Tech optimistically supplied as a small bank of snow catches in the winds from the Northeast and sprays the engineer in the face.

“Sure, but that wind is something else,” Wrecker mumbled, involuntarily shivering from a particular gust. Even the largest member with the toughest resilience to natural elements is rapidly discovering that his shield of plastoid is no match for the chilled temperatures.

“This planet seems to be nothing but a wasteland... but sometimes, not everything is what it seems,” Hunter wisely mused, keeping a few paces ahead of his crew. While the Sergeant was thankful for the stagnant and largely desolate atmosphere demonstrating hospitality to his heightened senses thus far, Hunter couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something out there was amiss.

“Hey Cross, anything yet?”

“Negative, Sarge,” the sniper briskly informed before quietly retreating back to his task of visual scanning via HUD.

“Echo, are you absolutely certain this is where those supposed Republic relics are? I’m still not picking up anything on my own scanners—”

“We’re definitely in the right place, Tech,” Hunter assured. His face scrunched and brows fused together in fervent concentration. He took a long whiff of the atmosphere, and stray icy specks slithered underneath the Sergeant’s helmet, swirling in his nostrils whenever he inhaled. Hunter’s senses become further rapt the closer the proximity. Therein, a wide range of sensations Hunter could make out in the immediacy: the scent of weathered but mixed alloys, and wet snow blanketing them. Occasional sparks from decrepit tech still spouting some juice. Weak pulses—of engineering components, that is. Definitive proof of remains; hopefully Republic. Hunter takes another measured breath and hones in further.

It was nothing of technological frequencies coursing through his veins this time. Instead: a distinct scent that assaulted the perceptive Sergeant. A scent too distinct and too familiar in a time of waxing chaos.

The smell of death.

“Markers. Markers in the distance. About two klicks out, directly ahead,” Crosshair suddenly informed, a sense of urgency coating his estimations.

“What kind of markers?” Hunter didn’t appreciate the way his tone failed to match his usual semblance of composure.

“Can’t tell. But they seem makeshift. All clustered together,” Crosshair supplies.

Like grave markers.

“That sounds really deliberate,” Wrecker muses aloud. “You think it’s a sign of some kind?”

“Only one way to find out,” Hunter murmured.

~~///\\\///\\\///\\\~~

Only one way to find out.

Echo wishes he never would have.

But it’s better he did.

Closure.

Yet painfully open-ended.

It’s cold.

Echo is hot.

The tears that flow down his face, streaming underneath his helmet, are hot.

Yet Echo is as numb as his cheeks, barely stinging from the cold.

Names to faces. Facing each name. Empty helmets, not one the same. Lifeless eyes through tinted black. Buckets staked, just want them back. Acknowledging then, blue and white. Honorable men, once shining lights.

Brothers.

A graveyard of brothers.

Brothers of the Five-Oh-First.

Oh, Fives.

Jesse stares directly at Echo, devoid of any emotion. The latter falls to his knees in front of, begging for forgiveness, and requesting that Fives’ sacrifice be enough. The raw snow molding beneath his cybernetic knee caps is the only thing that cushions and supports the man; a broken shell of someone he once was. A broken shell; a denotation tragically befitting when situated alongside shrapnel of a Republic Cruiser. Littered about, it menacingly encircles the man. The Cruiser becomes a crude background accessory. Everything is broken, cracked, shattered, lifeless... including the bodies bunkering six feet underneath.

Jesse is not here. Rex and Cody are not here. Fives, Hevy, Droidbait, Cutup—the Dominos are not here. Names flash rapidly behind Echo’s eyes, countless brothers all secured in Death’s cold embrace. He was too late. Too late to save them.

Oh, brother.

I hope I’ll see you in another.

You’ve been gone for more than a few.

But know I will always love you.

“I’m sorry,” Echo weeps in the wind and bows his head. His anguished cries and apologies are unworthy offerings, but it’s all he has to give in the land of the dead.

Endless rows of them...

The minute Echo dwells on just how many corpses he’s in the company of, he near forcefully expels bile.

Echo screws his eyes shut. He wonders what his helmet would look like staked in place of Jesse’s, or any of his brothers’. To see himself staring back instead.

Some vode used to say that the helmets have lived a thousand lives before a Clone has lived even one. It’s certainly survived that many, but there’s more to it. The brothers used to claim that the inanimate helmet of plastoid totally embodies the man underneath, taking a life of it’s own even after the trooper passes. Echo had always remained rather neutral on the matter, at least until Fives became the superstitious type.

Until Echo was directly faced with an army of deceased brethren, graves marked solely by their helmets. Until he could feel their deep contempt with every fleeting moment he gazed further into the visor of each. He wondered if their cold blood boiled with hatred for him. For the way no one saved them, for the way no one redeemed their poor unfortunate souls. Did they cry out? Were they fearful? Or were they impassive because that’s what they were programmed to be.

When they were programmed to execute Order: 66.

So many questions. So much guilt. So much pleading. Pleas that fell on deaf ears, for one can’t raise the dead. Many more tears because of.

Echo can only hope his brothers exited this life swiftly and peacefully. He prays to whatever higher power that they experience freedom in their eternal state of rest. That they’re dancing in the cosmos, traipsing along the stars with a euphoric pep. Maybe they’re singing a favorite. Maybe they’re dreaming. Maybe they’re doing both. “Dream A Little Dream Of Me...” A favorite tune.

Fives especially could sing that one beautifully.

The settled snow eventually shifts and dips slightly as a thin man sinks down beside. Crosshair wordlessly slings his arm around Echo. The sniper averts the imitated eyes of the dead men, but the unique patterns of their helmets have already been etched into memory. Tech gingerly sits off to Echo’s right, studying the emotions of the despondent man—not really studying, but watching for a sign; to ensure that it’s okay if he reaches out to comfortingly rest a hand on Echo’s arm. Wrecker is moving from behind to wrap Echo tight and give him a grounding squeeze. Hunter’s breath hitches because for a millisecond, he imagines seeing his baby brothers’ helmets staring back at him and suddenly Hunter can’t breathe.

It’s profound. On the desolate moon, midday turns to dusk even though the skies remain gray. The five men remain huddled together, each one in the same state of reflectiveness as the next. The frigid elements ease up if only somewhat, respectfully lenient in granting the quintet their quiet memorial.

Brothers. That’s what they are. That’s what they remember. One in the same. Same heart, same blood. There’s no such thing as Kaminoans or Cloners. There’s no such thing as ‘Regs’ or ‘Defects’. There’s only brothers. Each man remembers that day: that they were just pawns, never created to be individuals. But each man learns that day: that to still possess their individuality—their very life—is a luxury. It’s worth fighting for. Freedom is worth fighting for. And each man will fight on behalf of the brothers, of the men, who never became acquainted with the prospect before their last directive condemned and reverted them to nothing more than a number.

Numbers? The only numbers relevant are the ones The Bad Batch will do on the Empire. Over and over, and relentlessly. Blow after blow until all one can hear is the sound of Freedom ringing. And ring loud it will.

The day will come, and soon.

The Empire? They’d better watch their backs.

The Cavalry Has Arrived.

~***~

Post-Imperial Proclamation

PIP Rotation Number: 79

Destination: Planet of Unknown Origins

Documentation: Scouting for Relics. Will update with any pertinence.

—Signed by Mar-4

Update: Today I cling to the remains of fallen brethren. For the sake of anonymity, names will not be disclosed. But my heart sings with all of them. It sings, and it weeps. Some days, it will do both, for heavy is the weight. But the graveyard of men is revered; a symbol of strength that our enemies cannot defeat us all. We will prevail, because we are:

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.

Not gone, merely marching far away.

March easy, ner vode.

—Signed by Mar-5. Echo.

#star wars #The Bad Batch #Clone Force 99 #ahh I am a sobbing mess :’D #feedback is always appreciated :) #my writing #it’s a Lil thing

[rideboldlyride]

Perfect - Ch. 5: The Chapter Where Zuko Starts to Get a Clue

I’m trying this a different way- hoping to actually have this show up on the Zutara tag.... 

First off- The Link!

Part One of this chapter is under the cut. For Part two, you need to go to the link.... 

The morning was fresh and new when Zuko stepped outside. He had been awake for hours, long before venturing out of his fur lined tent. After all, Agni neared the winter solstice, and he kept the sky ablaze for longer this close to the south. As such, Zuko felt the restlessness in his bones, and had awoken long before the rest of the tribe had. He had kept to his tent, finalizing his shift in schedule, thereby securing his freedom for the rest of the day.

When he finally emerged, he was greeted by the flow of an active tribe, as it's members ducked in and out of tents, huts and homes. Feeling a bit lost, he gazed about the activity, searching for a familiar face to latch on to. He had become so accustomed to a schedule, that being without one felt like he was adrift at sea. Fortunately for the young man, his eye caught the motion of a familiar wolf-tail over a wash of dark skin. A frantic hand rose, waving. Zuko couldn’t stop the small smirk that pulled at his lips.

While word from Katara, outside of Aang, had been sparse over the past five years, Sokka did not have the same reservations. Apart, the diplomatic letters often were laced with personal information and humor, to the point where advisors had long stopped trying to intersect and interpret them before handing them off the Fire Lord. When in person, many a night, they were found together after some diplomatic engagement or another, at one of Zuko's private studies, or in the gardens, strategizing over ridiculous campaigns (one especially drunken night led to the Great War of the Sky Bison, against the small but feisty lands of the Air Plains Lemurs -- Momo held his own admirably), discussing politics over nigorizake, and in general, sharing rumors of their friend’s lives, that both men had slowly found themselves falling out of. It was the similar distancing; Zuko’s due to his new role, Sokka due to his new responsibilities in the South Pole and in the different capitals, as well as a husband and father, that had led to an easy camaraderie.

Now watching his friend bob through the crowd, his boomerang held up as a standard, Zuko couldn’t resist the smirk that pulled across his face. Sokka finally was deposited in front of him, panting exaggeratedly.

“It didn’t use to be this busy around here…”

A dark brow rose. “What happened?”

“The Northern Tribe.”

“Ah.” The Fire Lord nodded. He had seen the surprising growth of the small tribe in the South in comparison to the many years prior when he had first stepped foot on to that ice shelf. A wave of deja vu swept over him, and he forced that angry boy back down, under years of responsibility.

His friend refused to allow him time for his own thoughts, though.

“They may have changed a lot around here,” before adding a quiet aside of ‘and bred like mice-rabbits ’ and then continuing, “but there are plenty of our traditions we hold on to. I count it my duty to ensure you get to experience a few of them today.”

“Sokka,” the Fire national turned a weary eye towards his friend, “I’m not looking to do more diplomatic events today.”

A grin split the blue-eyed man’s face. “Good thing our traditions don’t consist of sitting around fires, reading from dusty scrolls.”

Curiosity peaked in Zuko, and he followed as the other man gestured to follow him into the foot traffic.

“Oh? What do your traditions consist of?”

“I’m pretty sure my dad mentioned ice dodging to you last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Guess that’s where we’ll have to start.”

“Wait.” Zuko stopped, a look of concern crossing his face. “Wait. I thought that was a name of a game or something metaphorical. It's not, is it?”

Sokka grinned mischievously.

***

Just outside of the growing and bustling city, the two men trekked across open white plains. A crisp breeze whipped against a pale cheek, struggled at a wolf-tail, and pulled at the brown tarp across the muddled shape before them.

“Is that a boat?” the amber-eyed man spoke first.

“Yep.”

“But the water’s at least 100 meters away.”

“Yep.”

“O-kay.” A perplexed expression crossed his face as he watched his impish friend. “If that’s not a problem, then why are we still standing here, waiting, while the tarp is still over the boat.”

“ZukoZukoZuko... “ Sokka spoke in a rush, and if anything, his smile only grew. “You’re not asking the right questions.”

The Fire Lord turned his body entirely to face him, a hand impatiently thrust to the still water vessel.

“I don’t know, Sokka. These questions seem pretty relevant , when we're standing nowhere near water,--"

"The cold makes you cranky."

"-- with a boat under a tarp, and doing absolutely noth-- ”

“Sorry I’m late!”

Her voice lilted over the icy plains, and while as carefree as a feather on the wind, it hit Zuko with all the force of a boulder. Sokka merely grinned wider and clapped the suddenly very pale firebender on the shoulder.

#zutara #zutara is my new hell #atla #atla is my new hell #zuko #katara #katara x zuko #zuko x katara #perfect #slow burn #we still have a ways to go #it aint time yeeeet....

[chaoticspacefam]

OC Music Meme

I was tagged for this by @actualanxiousswampwitch ! Thank you & sorry it took so long, didn’t have time to write this out before I left for holiday stuff so here we go! I shall tag: @actualanxiousswampwitch (go on give us another one XD), @a-muirehen​ , @kyber-heart​ , @thedinalixlegacy​ (no pressure as always, I know I’m kinda late now sksjkshskhs!) and anyone else who wants to do this, yes, I promise I mean you!

art is by @ ocellifera on deviantART! :D

Let’s do Aria this time, shall we! Since her playlist is the second-longest, and her and Vano’s ship playlist is the longest, we’ll have the most (probable options! Long post so goin’ under a cut. Additional TW’s for: drugs, alcohol, alcoholism, drug addiction and murder, in case I’ve forgotten to add it to the song-specific sections. If you click past this cut, know that this is what you may find there.

reminds you of them most: It was super hard to pick just three for hers, there were so many others I wanted to include here, but couldn’t, as I wanted to make sure I included songs that covered as much of her over-arching characterisation as I could. Honourable mentions to: Miss Jackson - Panic! At The Disco feat. LOLO, Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) - Fall Out Boy, Beekeeper - Keaton Henson, and Bones Of A Rabbit - Young Heretics, which can all be found (and more) on her Spotify Playlist - catch-all warning for: sex, drugs, violence and murdering of parents applies here, be aware her playlist is very dark, just as dark as Rai’s but with differing subject matter, proceed with caution if you find anything like that triggering!)

You’re Going Down - Sick Puppies :: This one is kinda self-explanatory. I heard it on a Spotify or Youtube shuffle at some point a year or so ago and immediately went “Oh, hey Aria!” so onto her playlist it went XD “Because I'm hyped up out of control If it's a fight, I'm ready to go I wouldn't put my money on the other guy If you know what I know that I know.”  don’t mess with the Tiny Sith, guys, she will put you in the medbay. She’ll do it, she’s done it before ask Vano what happened to the last guy *nods*

Liar - The Arcadian Wild :: This is a relatively “new” song in comparison, which was sent to me by a good rp/writer friend on Discord (who afaik doesn’t have other socials!) that I often discuss plot points etc. with among other things, saying “hey this reminded me of Aria thought you’d like it!”. I listened to it and yep, sure enough, it’s an Aria song. A big part of Aria’s character is that at the start, she really is quite a bad person. She’s nasty, and cantankerous and she really doesn’t care about anybody except for herself (and maybe her dad. A tiny bit.), as things progress, however, while she is still inherently quite rude and selfish, she DOES learn to value other people...provided they are people she cares about, like Vano, and her friends, and so on,  as well as (sometimes, she’s working on it still) taking the blame for her own actions and learning it’s not “weak” or bad to a) admit you care about people, b) make mistakes and c) admit those mistakes and take responsibility for them. "I sense there’s trouble ahead, it’s clear by the signs and warnings. That should tell where all blame is due, So why are they pointing at MY head? [...] I sense deception to come. Honestly, truth and I are never one. 'Cause I am the lying man and I have made you my next victim. I need you to see through my act, to tell me I'm wrong, to take off the mask, or else I'll be left in the lie. And I'll deceive my way straight to demise! Cause I’m not in the right state of mind, I just wish I had strength to admit it. My stubbornness will put up a fight! But I don’t deserve to win it... I’m left in the dark, pondering my mistakes But in the light I swear I will, deny it all...” 

I didn’t mean to post like half the song but woops it’s done so have it anyway lmao

Brutus - The Buttress :: TW: intense violent imagery in the lyrics. This one is very relevant but contains spoilers for upcoming and as of yet unposted/incomplete chapters (as in...like 3 ish chapters time at most) of Creeping Shadows, so I’ll post this quote as “explanation” and let you theorize who it’s about

“My name is Brutus and my name means “heavy” So with a heavy heart I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my Enemy! My whole life you were a teacher and friend to me Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy I too have a destiny! This death will be art! The people will speak of this day from near and afar This event will be history, And I'll be great too! I don't want what you have, I wanna be you!!“

reminds another character of them:

Where’s My Love? - SYML :: (Vano) I think the acoustic version is especially emotional : ))) Vano looked for her for years but couldn’t find her and genuinely thought Aria was dead. You can understand why she was so fucking angry when she found out that was a lie...but at the same time, she just wanted her love to come home :( “Did she run away? Did she run away? I don't know If she ran away, If she ran away, Come back home Just come home“

Mothers - Daughter :: (Myla, her mother) “Love all you need to love before it goes... When your face becomes a stranger’s that I don’t know. You will never remember who I was to you [...] I’m called “mother”, but they’re called “home”.”

Myla raised Aria for the first few years of her life, and really wanted to keep her away from both the Jedi and the Sith but as it became more and more clear that Aria’s Force affinity was as strong as her father’s, the situation rapidly spiralled out of Myla’s control. She tried to hide Aria, but in the end her father Noctis did find them and take Aria to train with the Sith. She didn’t see her daughter again until she was a teenager, suddenly turning up with the task to kill her for treason against the Empire (Myla is not the canon Imp Agent, but follows the general trajectory of the LS!Agent storyline i.e. an agent disillusioned with the Empire who eventually defects to the Republic with the help of the SIS.). Though she’s a Senator on Onderon now, Myla carried a blaster for personal protection and ofc knows how to use it, except...she couldn’t shoot her own daughter and that was all she wrote. I imagine her thought process during her final moments went something like in this song, especially the bit that I highlighted up there.

reminds you of a relationship of theirs, doesn’t have to be romantic, can be paternal, friendly, etc:

Tongues & Teeth - The Crane Wives :: Aria & Vano (Romantic). Aria’s relationship with Vano is incredibly messy and complicated. On one hand, she knows Vano deserves better, but at the same time she doesn’t want her to go anywhere else and it seems like no matter what she does to try and “warn her off” about what a “bad person” she is, Vano keeps coming back anyway. Ergo, this song. "Oh, I will ruin you. I will ruin you. It’s a habit...I can’t help it. I know that you mean so well, but I am not a vessel for your good intent. I will only break your pretty things, I will only wring you dry of everything! But if you’re fine with that, if you’re fine with that [...] You can be mine.”

Colours - Halsey :: Aria & Merak & Ziri (Friendship/Platonic Love) “You’re only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope, I hope you make it to the day you’re 28 years old...”

Aria “coped” (i.e. not very well but she did it) with the guilt of killing her mother and the stress brought on by the night terrors by self-medicating with glitterstims (spice) and alcohol, and this is how Merak in particular remembers her. Though she got clean from spice after they picked up Ziri, she still continued to drink (and still does) quite heavily, though at least it’s easier to manage that habit. Both of them supported her through this the best they could and it’s probably a big reason (other than Merak being Vano’s little brother) that they’re still Aria’s friends to this day, even if she doesn’t actively travel with them anymore.

(honourable mention to Agnes - Glass Animals which also falls under this “category” but I didn’t want this to get too crowded lmao, it is once again a super long post woops) You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring :: Aria & Roan/Darth Noctis (Familial/Familial Love) Listen, he may have taught her very bad emotional habits and turned her into a tiny attack dog, but her father did love & protect her the best way he possibly could. He was very proud of her and always envisioned her taking his place as a Darth one day (and it takes her a longass while, but eventually she does! Congrats dad!). That’s all I’ve got to say about this one 🤷‍♀️ Monster - Willyecho :: Aria & Satele Shan/The Jedi Order (Enemies to Begrudging Respect (eventually) “I can see the truth. No, you don’t have to lie to me. Don’t fill your head with things and think you’re free~ [...] You don’t believe in monsters, do you~?” ”Of course not!” ”Well, I do...” See me change...into something...darker....” My personal favourite from this “round”. It’s not until Ilum that Satele and the Jedi finally realise they have not “converted” Aria as they thought they did, but rather...they’ve had a Sith hiding under their noses, a Sith related to a Dark Councillor well-known for murdering Jedi no less, and that perhaps...the “deaths” she had convinced them were accidental, were in fact, not an accident at all. 😈 Aria, of course, gets her ass thrown in jail for a few years for this lmao When the schtick with the Revanites happens and Theron needs someone who can “negotiate in a civil manner with Sith”, he and his mother agree Aria is the best bet - if it works, the Sith will respond more positively to her than any other Jedi, if they kill her instead then they’re “rid of” her and don’t lose one of their own - when Lana’s point-of-contact happens to be Vano and the pair reunite after another several years apart, Aria refuses to return to the Republic after Yavin IV. By then, she’s developed enough of a begrudging respect for Satele (and vice versa) that the Grand Master lets her go (not that she was willing to try and fight Vano, Ni’kasi, Marr & Lana to try and take Aria prisoner again anyways). They haven’t seen each other since and though Aria is neutral to the Jedi who have joined the Alliance, she doesn’t care for those who are still loyal to the Republic and would rather have nothing to do with them if she can help it.

#swtor #star wars: the old republic #tagged meme #OC music meme #swtor oc: aria saal #jedi consular #ds! jedi consular #jedi consular (sith assassin) #subterfugeverse #swtor shipping #aria/vano #ariano #tw: drugs #tw: drug addiction #tw: alcohol #tw: alcoholism #tw: implied ptsd #tw: violence #lots of angst on this one i'm sorry #i didn't expect aria's to be more angsty than rai's but here we are LMAO #tumblr ate this post right as i was about to queue it when it committed die last night #so uhhh...it might not be as good as the first draft #but i tried to put back as much as i could remember #:'D

[ashesarrows]

The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two by Catherynne M. Valente- FULL REVIEW

This review is the complete version of its counterpart on GoodReads.

This book really disappointed me. The roughest thing is that it’s right in the middle of the series, so you have to read it if you want to continue. There are bright spots (Ell! Saturday!), and I can sense the incredible book Valente was trying to write, but overall, this was a flop. Would’ve been a DNF if I hadn’t promised myself I’d finish the series. 

So, firstly: I’m a longtime fan of Fairyland, and I commonly list the first book and Valente herself as my favorite book and author. I had no negative preconceptions about the book going in. In fact, I know I have an irrational fear of series, and at first I thought my struggles with this book could be chalked up to that. 

But I loved the second book. It was entertaining, a good follow-up, and a unique new story to explore. When I picked up the third book and only got a chapter in before forgetting about it, I had a lot of excuses—I was burned out. I didn’t like the Blue Wind, and I didn’t want to read about her. I was busy with school.

As it turns out, having picked the book up three years later and finished it this time, none of that was true. This time, I was yearning for more of Fairyland, I quite liked the Blue Wind, and I had ample time to read in. 

It just wasn’t a good book.

I talk about planning/pantsing a lot, and that’s once again relevant. I’ll excerpt from my review of another book:

There are two types of NaNoWriMo writers: the planners, & the pantsers. Planners have an outline ready before they write, and pantsers go "by the seat of their pants"—very few, or even no, plans. Both have pros/cons; here I'll focus on a common pitfall for pantsers.

Almost every Western narrative… follows something akin to the 3-act structure. There is a main conflict which builds to a climax and is then resolved (think Star Wars’s Death Star.) For any good narrative, you need MOTIVATION-GOAL-CONFLICT—and occasionally stakes[.]

This book does not have a conflict.

So where do you find 300+ pages of writing? Just have something happen & see what comes next as a response!

The problem is that this makes an unworkable first draft. Things Happening =/= Satisfying Plot Arc. In editing, you have to take everything you've written and organize it into a plot shape, often cutting things that don't fit. (Planning is the opposite; tons of work upfront/you usually end up UNDERwriting.)

...The most common method of writing on Wattpad is pantsing. 99% of the time, writers write & then post chapters on a set schedule. Can't edit plot structure when you upload one chapter a week.

Now, I knew that Valente was a pantser before I read this book, and that she originally uploaded Fairyland one chapter a week. I was very impressed when I first found out; I don’t recall sensing any of these pitfalls in the two previous books. It is hard to write a book with no editing—it is damn well near impossible. Whether I liked this book or not, the first two are a triumph just for that. Valente has been writing this entire series with both hands tied behind her back and her eyes taped shut, and I have to commend her. Even my feelings of frustration are almost overshadowed by how impressed I am that it took three books for her to fail.

Valente herself acknowledged editing concerns in multiple / interviews. From the latter link:

I remember being at a convention right after it really hit, and somebody in the audience asked, “Well, you realize you can’t go back and change anything, because you’ve already posted it online.” And I said, “Oh, shit.” It had never occurred to me that that was gonna be a problem. I kept a couple weeks ahead of the posting schedule, but again, much like writing The Labyrinth in ten days instead of thirty, I just ran ahead with something without knowing that I couldn’t do it and it worked out incredibly well.

Did it? I feel differently, and this review aims to explain why.

This book lacks plot. Valente is attempting a 3-act structure, which relies heavily on a central conflict. There has to be some big mission; some big goal. First book example: September has to beat the Marquess (goal and conflict) OR ELSE everyone in Fairyland suffers (stakes/motivation). Every moment of the book ties back to this larger goal.

The central conflict of this book appears about halfway through. You know the moon, and the yeti, and splitting things? This comes up over a hundred pages in. September, and the audience, has no idea about any of that for a hundred or so pages, and so for that amount of time, the book is unconscionably boring. 

The beginning of the book sees September afraid she’s too old to go back to Fairyland, which is a great central conflict idea for the one chapter in which it exists. Aha! A book about growing up and the associated trials and tribulations. That’s a fantastic theme, and yet I forgot about it entirely until the end, where it briefly awakens again, after an entire book of Not That At All. More on this later.

For now, the book takes September back to Fairyland, which should be wonderful, but Fairyland seems to have become all exposition and no action. A whole chapter of The Blue Wind lecturing September, for example. This is a character we don’t know, have no reason to be attached to, and are being actively hindered by as she relentlessly slows the plot down. And then September gets talked at by an alligator or something, and then another something something… I don’t remember any of this, because it was not relevant.

This isn’t like Fairyland #1, where September might need to befriend someone to gain access to magic which would help her on her quest. In fact, for this first half of the book, September doesn’t even have agency! Someone hands her a MacGuffin (I refuse to recall its name) in the form of a box, and she Must carry it to some city or other on the moon. Why? Who knows. She just must. And she does. And you’re thinking to yourself, why isn’t September making her own ship and leading revels? We know, as an audience, that she’s more than capable. What on Earth has got her seeming so meek? She even sasses characters, but somehow always ends up doing as they ask.

The book also takes all this time to reach any characters we know and love. The readers want Ell and Saturday! We do not care about a horde of lecturing adults with no connection to a central plot or September! Looking back, I can see how Valente may have been hoping to pull off something similar to Alice in Wonderland, but in Alice nobody speaks for a full page. This is just one example:

direct link

I’m hard pressed to even call this exposition, because it tells us nothing about the world we’re in. It’s just a sermon Valente wants us to hear. And worse, because I’ve read the last two books, I know she can pull this off. It doesn’t have to be this way. Many people said many things in Fairyland #1, and it worked because there was a plot that the speeches were part of. 

(If you just look at the quotes page for this book, you can see how many there are—and how repetitive they get. X is a Y, okay, alright…)

But this sort of thing reached its peak when it almost ruined Saturday. Don’t worry, he’s generally well-written, but when September meets him and he starts lecturing? It’s just awful to read. Suddenly it’s not Saturday talking but Valente speaking through his mouth, giving those sermons again, and it just makes you want to scream.

This made me recall an old writing rule—“never remind me of the author’s existence.” I want to feel as though real people are really saying these things, and when all of them speak identically, it’s really difficult to believe that. I won’t deny Saturday his right to say poignant things, obviously, but in this case due to the volume of lectures, and the proximity of his to the others, and the obvious preachiness of all of them, it really got in the way of my even enjoying the scenes with Saturday. And come on; that is unforgivable.

But there is a plot. There is an, ahem… other MacGuffin. A paw? A yeti’s paw. Something about time. Look, at this point I just wanted to finish the book. The original MacGuffin had become a new one, which would lead them to the third, and all this because at 100 pages in someone said “hey there’s this yeti we really hate around here,” and September went “sounds awful I’ll go hunt him right now.” And of course she can, because she has been DOING NOTHING FOR THE LAST HUNDRED PAGES. What is she going to do, something else? There IS nothing else to do in Fairyland apparently. Again, what this book does to the world & inhabitants of Fairyland is near criminal.

So the plot starts here, and it’s not great—September takes it up because there’s nothing else to do, and of course her friends come along, but (at least to me) it seems obvious that Valente invented the moon’s political situation and the Yeti just to come up with SOMETHING for this book. It never felt convincing that this had really been happening behind the scenes in the other books. On top of that, since we get very little context (despite the lectures!), it feels less like a vital quest and more like September (again) doing something because someone else told her to. We really don’t get any other perspective on the issue until the very end.

But talking about the end will require a spoiler tag, so I’ll avoid it for now. Let’s take a break to talk about how confusing the book was overall. I often didn’t know where the characters were heading or why, or what role a new character played, or even if they were there or not.

After seeing a GR query about this particular issue, I went back and researched it. The character Candlestick allegedly leaves the party on page 189:

Candlestick had not come with them after all, turning up her peacock tail and refusing to speak further with any of the lot of them.

But then shows up in not one but two lines in the next chapter anyway:

The Tyguerrotype, the thirteen bouncing Glasshobs, the quivering houses—and September and Saturday, A-Through-L and Candlestick—had a little thickness, but no more than a thick sheet of paper. (201)

“Did we see what?” called Candlestick. (204)

I understand why Valente wouldn’t want to make major plot edits to the books after posting them, but why didn’t an editor read through this even once? It would have been easy to fix—delete one line, or even just a word. It seems clear through surrounding context, looking back, that Valente intended to leave Candlestick out of these chapters, so why didn’t anyone confirm that for readers?

It’s just not fair to your audience to leave things like this in. It’s not professional. It makes me look down on the publisher, to be quite honest, because they apparently couldn’t take the few months necessary to re-read the draft and offer Valente edits on these bare minimum issues.

So you can understand why I wasn’t sure what was going on most of the time. Especially in the beginning, when multiple characters existed just to lecture, it was hard to get attached to any one addition to the party because I could expect them to be gone without incident or importance within two chapters. 

For example, the Periwig (whose name I refuse to look up) who works with Ell in the library says she has cursed him to stop him from flaming around the books. Yes, Ell is having uncontrollable flaming issues now. As a reader pummeled by random lectures, watching September ferry around MacGuffins, this just felt like an “oh shit we have to come up with a NEW conflict for these characters” ploy, without much thought or logic. And I had no idea what the curse was for over fifty pages, until on page 173 there’s a specific reference to Ell getting smaller after he shoots flame. I’m sure there were more earlier on, but I missed them, and who can blame me after a hundred pages of content that was not relevant to the story.

This plot point is never satisfyingly wrapped up, either. Why did the Periwig think this was a good idea? Could she have undone it? Why did nobody address her about it? And why was it solved the way it was? Nothing made sense.

What’s really frustrating is what could have been. Near the end of the book, I turned to the back cover just to avoid continuing to read, and I looked once again in total bafflement at the two starred reviews of the book pictured there. Booklist’s back cover quote reads as follows:

As usual, Valente enlightens readers with pearly gleams of wisdom about honesty, identity, free will, and growing up. September often worries who she should be and what path she should follow, but the lovely truth, tenderly told, is that it's all up to her.

And, despite having read roughly two hundred pages of this book, it was only once I saw this quote that I understood what Valente was trying to do.

This is a great idea. And there are ELEMENTS of it here, and even elements I quite like. Occasionally, the lectures September hears do in fact correspond to some aspect of this theme (“you become what you are called” is one example of a line I could tell meant something, but needed to be expanded to accomplish anything.) It’s hard, as a reader, to differentiate between lectures addressing a vital theme in the story and lectures that are just talking.

Returning to Ell’s curse, it turns out that [SPOILER] Ell was just flaming for what is essentially dragon puberty, which is a GREAT opportunity to build on this theme! Somehow, though, we don’t get that.. I would have loved to see Ell have to deal with, essentially, a sexual awakening, and that did not happen, and it feels like the cure scene is random and therefore wasted. [END SPOILER]

It doesn’t help that Valente also wastes a scene with FANTASTIC potential where September literally destroys her fate by giving it no prior context, no weight in the plot, no relevance to the conflict, and fifteen tons worth of expositional lecturing to drown in. I want to love these scenes; some of these scenes utilize my favorite tropes! I just can’t get around all the ways Valente is leaving her story out to dry.

Then there’s the clothing September wears, her new designation, Aroostook the car, the attempted blossoming romance between September and Saturday: so many elements which could have made that theme great. It’s like a broken puzzle.

This brings us to the Yeti. I’m just going to go full spoiler, because I’m mad.

[SPOILER]

The Yeti is a reverse twist villain?? Can we stop with this? It’s not interesting & not an engaging surprise & also feels like going “ha ha I fooled you.”

From the moment September set off to beat him, I was wondering—are we really doing this? Based on one random person’s complaint? September has made it very clear that she doesn’t understand the politics of the world she’s inhabiting, and yet: this. Unlike in the first book, where the Marquess’s evil is confirmed by every person she comes across and September ends up fighting her out of personal connection, this just seems like meddling. September has no skin in the game; it’s almost a white savior trope—especially when the history of the Moon parallels colonization!

And then The Gang sees future-Saturday helping the yeti, and instead of thinking “maybe we got this wrong based on one person’s lecture” they think “ah FUCK maybe Saturday is going to be evil” and manufacture totally unnecessary conflict.

But it’s not even that they misunderstood, or that their source was biased; the end result is that the Yeti was seen as evil because he DIDN’T CARE THAT HE WAS. He gives this “none of their business” answer that is fundamentally unsatisfying (and makes no sense—had he explained, THEY WOULD NOT HAVE BOTHERED HIM) because at the end of the day, it means none of September’s actions in Fairyland were necessary. She just showed up and left. Nobody, not even the story, needed her. I guess September and Saturday have now kissed (twice!) which is great for them but not something that makes the whole book worthwhile.

[END SPOILER]

And on top of this, there are typos. I already covered the issue with Candlestick, so here are the others quickly:

 “All of us,” September said gently, and held out her hands. “I know what you said, Miss Candlestick, but however you count it, our fates are stuck together and stitched up good.” She paused for a moment, looking down at her flowing black silks and her own small hands. “Closer than shadows, she finished.” (170)

“If you’re not to tired after your cannonades.” (179)

The full moon rose passed the high barn windows, spilling in like milk. (248)

(First sentence ought to have put the end quotation mark after the word “shadows,” but accidentally places it after September’s dialogue tag. The second sentence should use “too” instead of “to”. The final sentence needs to either say that the moon “rose past the high barn windows” or “passed the high barn windows”, likely the former.)

What gets me is that this last sentence is on the last page. Even if Valente and her editors never flipped through most of the book, surely someone would’ve noticed this? It just drives home how little anyone cared. About Fairyland, of all things!

And then Valente, who DID NOT EDIT THIS BOOK, has the audacity to include lines like these.

September reached inside and took out the red book. It was heavy. A girl’s face graced the cover, finely embossed, but it was turned away, gazing at some unseen thing. Perhaps it was her own face, perhaps not. A miniature version of herself, after all. Was it an answer? Was it everything already written?  “You can’t argue with something that’s written down,” she said, stroking the red locks of hair on the cover. “If the heart of my fate is a book, there’s nothing for it. Once it’s written, it’s done. All those ancient books always say ‘so it is written’ and that means it’s finished and tidied and you can’t say a thing against it.”  Oh, but September, it isn’t so. I ought to know, better than anyone. I have been objective and even-tempered until now, but I cannot let that stand, I simply cannot. Listen, my girl. Just this once I will whisper from far off, like a sigh, like a wind, like a little breeze. So it is written—but so, too, it is crossed out. You can write over it again. You can make notes in the margins. You can cut out the whole page. You can, and you must, edit and rewrite and reshape and pull out the wrong parts like bones and find just the thing and you can forever, forever, write more and more and more, thicker and longer and clearer. Living is a paragraph, constantly rewritten. It is Grown-Up Magic. Children are heartless; their parents hold them still, squirming and shouting, until a heart can get going in their little lawless wilderness. Teenagers crash their hearts into every hard and thrilling thing to see what will give and what will hold. And Grown-Ups, when they are very good, when they are very lucky, and very brave, and their wishes are sharp as scissors, when they are in the fullness of their strength, use their hearts to start their story over again.

(page 184).

Like... all of that, and then she didn’t edit September’s story? I’m appalled.

At this point, you might well say I’m being far too harsh. I understand that. These next five paragraphs are for you.

For the first few months of (re)reading this book, I genuinely felt like I must be a bad reader, or my attention span was gone, or I just didn’t like Valente or her work enough. Looking at all the incredible reviews here, I felt jealous—and frustrated. Why couldn’t I just enjoy this book the way everyone else did? 

Obviously, I never want to dislike a book, but this was one that I almost feel betrayed me. I know there’s a significant amount of entitlement there; Valente doesn’t owe me any stories, let alone good ones. 

At the same time, I made every effort. I owned all the books, was working hard to read a series despite my long-time struggles with them, and, well, I LOVE Valente! I constantly talk about her work! And even someone like me—someone who’s usually a pretty fast reader, loves the series/author in question, and was determined to finish this book—struggled throughout. 

So I’m frustrated that the book made me feel like an idiot. I’m frustrated that, for the apparent crime of being devoted to Valente’s work, I was put through this. This book would be one star if not for the world of Fairyland and the returning cast—if this had not been a Fairyland book, I would not have finished reading it. For that first half, I was bribing myself (with better books) to read one or two pages at a time. Really.

Like I said, it didn’t have to be this way. I know damn well that Valente can do better than this. If Valente had been given the opportunity to edit this draft into a polished book, she could have done it. It’s only because of these restraints that she chose—and she is a grown woman who may choose what she likes—that the book came out this way. It’s genuinely hard to review, because I understand why she wrote the book this way, and I understand why she did not later edit the majority of the text, and I also have the perspective of a disappointed reader. It’s hard to balance all of that.

So two stars it is. I’m a little sad it took so long to review this book, because I was REALLY pumped to review it when I first finished, but I hope that on the contrary letting it sit has allowed me to be more objective and less emotionally upset by it. 

I hope to pick up the fourth book soon, but with the combination of it being unrelated to the main cast and the letdown that this book was, it’ll be a while before I feel up to it. Don’t worry, though, because I will come back to update you as to whether the series overall is worth continuing. I have every hope that it will be.

#full review #goodreads #The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two

[coeurvrai]

Nadya wakes up and tries to reach out to Marzenya, but is denied, and starts panicking. Honestly, I was expecting this to happen much sooner considering her goddess should care about how much she wants to and is making out with Malachiasz, but whatever.

Was this something the Vultures had done to her? Was she being punished for the power she used trying to escape? This was a different kind of quiet than before. This was worse than the veil. This was emptiness.

Calm down, she told herself. Figure out where you are. A stabbing pain went through her as the silence remained, the gods now more than just out of reach, but turned away completely.

Maybe she would never hear another quip after an errant prayer again. She shivered. It couldn’t be that. The gods wouldn’t have abandoned her. Not for a few doubts, not for kissing a heretic—not even that.

I mean, they are deities, Nadya, and deities are known to be petty and act in a way that is incomprehensible to humans, sometimes. It would be very typical for them to punish you for lusting after and making out with Malachiasz, especially when it is your divine mission to kill Tranavians and bring Tranavian under the gods’ rule again. Especially when your patron is the goddess of sacrifice and death, and that’s supposed to mean something.

Nadya tries to get up from where she’s laying and is met with a lot of blood and nails and glass shards. She manages to get off the slab, but falls to the floor, in a lot of pain.

She tries to find a way out.

Even if it was locked, she would feel less like she had ceased to exist. She had become nothing but the blood slicking the floor and blinding pain.

Edgy.

Nadya starts seeing things in the darkness watching her and coming towards her and tries reaching out to the gods again.

Anguish and a rage too fluid to fully define washed through her and she wanted to scream. She reached for the prayer beads she did not have and found nothing but Kostya’s necklace. She yanked it over her head and threw it across the room. She heard it hit the wall with a feeble, metallic clang.

“This isn’t fair!” she cried, to no one and to nothing because she was alone. Entirely alone in the kingdom of her enemies. Her best hadn’t mattered.

I hope Nadya doesn’t want that necklace back, because it’d be tough shit to find it again in the dark.

Also, this is hardly Nadya’s best. Or if it is, it’s sad and piss poor. She didn’t even last a hour before she got thrown into a life-or-death situation after their plan hinged on her not drawing attention to herself and fucked up that entire plan.

Then she blamed Malachiasz for Felicíja’s murder even though it was arguably the right thing to do in the moment, she had put herself in that situation in the first place and arguably Felicíja would still be alive if she hadn’t insulted her back and accept her duel, and Felicíja is her enemy and she’s supposed to kill Tranavians and has already killed Tranavians within the first five chapters of the book.

“I have only ever done what was asked of me,” she said, her voice feeble and broken.

Your god-given mission is to kill Tranavians and you kept making excuses for not killing Malachiasz, and then proceeded to act on your attraction to him. So, I wouldn’t say you’ve only ever done what was asked of you.

A line in a history book would half-heartedly mention the cleric who had tried to save Kalyazin but only managed to be forsaken by the gods. There would be no canonization after death for Nadya, just a quiet passing of the cleric who had failed.

Well considering there’s like 90 pages to go (dear god there’s 90 pages to go), I’m not holding my breath. Also, at least that way you’ll keep your promise to Anna that you won’t end up in the Book of Saints.

Nadya tries to pray to Marzenya again for something, anything.

Please don’t let this end here. If she cried out with everything left within her would she get an answer? Or would she have nothing but the ashes of the only thing that had ever made her life worth living? Zhalyusta, Marzenya, eya kalyecti, eya otrecyalli, holen milena.

Her plea went unanswered.

Nadya says a prayer that means nothing to me. Man, wouldn’t it’d have been cool if we had found out more about the actual religion stuff outside of the gods and how that work? Like how religion affects the lives of everyday people?

No? Okay then.

Anyways, Nadya notices a light in her peripheral and she went towards it, realising the light is coming from the necklace that Kostya had given her.

Some gods require blood.

She swallowed hard. Taking the pendant in her fist, she let the blood soaking her hands drip into the ridges.

She held it closer to her face, peering at the soft, almost eerie light.

“You deserve to know the truth about the beings that chose you.”

Oh for fuck’s sake, we’re going in this direction, are we? Anyways, so she suddenly hears a voice in her head, much like how the gods speak to her.

Nadya inhaled sharply, hit with a sudden barrage of images. The wave of pain that slammed into her nearly knocked her out.

Creatures with knotted joints like the whorls of a tree, faces enshrouded in fog, four eyes, six, ten. Beings with eyes on their fingertips, mouths at their joints. Iron teeth, iron claws, iron eyes.

One after another after another. Sinuous wings, feathered wings black as tar. Eyes of light, of darkness. And blood. So much blood.

Because that’s just it. It was always, always blood.

Feeling sick, Nadya dropped the necklace. The images stopped. She was panting, fighting for air.

Is it weird I’m being reminded of the Children of the Forest? Because I’m being reminded of the Children of the Forest for some strange reason. Also the volcra.

Anyways, it obviously has something to do with the Vultures. And I just cannot get over the fact that the Vultures sound so much like the Ironteeth witches, it’s quite unbelievable.

Especially because I know Emily Duncan is aware of Maas. Also, for someone who has been critical of the editing of Maas’ books in the past, her and her editor sure haven’t done much better. 

When she picked up the necklace again, she was careful to not touch the spiral ridges but apparently any contact was enough. When the cool silver touched against her skin all her senses were flooded with white light. Purity with rivulets of blood staining it all. It fell in tiny droplets, from her fingertips, off her arms. There was nothing but the blinding white and the blood.

Like this paragraph, for example.

“When the cool silver touched against her skin”??? Just say “when she touched the cool silver” or some shit, at least that way it isn’t so awkwardly worded. The rest of it makes me wanna roll my eyes and grab a sandwich.

Anyways, she tries talking to this ~mysterious~ voice and the voice answers back.

What is this? What are you?

“Does that matter?”

She was surprised when the voice—unusually high, like reed pipes—responded.

Are you … one of the gods? There were gods she had never spoken to, was this one?

There was a long silence, leaving Nadya suspended in the blood-soaked white space. She was vaguely aware her pain was only a dim buzz now. It surrounded her like a fog, barely noticeable.

Then: “Once upon a time, yes.”

This is totally related to that story that was briefly mentioned about a human or some saint that supposedly was able to obtain godhood, isn’t it?

And once upon a time that answer would have terrified Nadya. A few short weeks ago, the girl in a monastery who believed so wholly in her gods and her cause would have looked upon this with horror, disbelief. She would have written it off as hallucinatory heretical magic. But now …

Now she had allowed herself to doubt. Now she was tired. Now she had been forsaken and abandoned. She sat down, crossing her legs underneath her, conscious of the floor wet with blood beneath her. There was nothing left to do but hope for answers.

She literally believed in her fucking gods and shit like half an hour ago, and I just- this is what I mean about how nothing feels believable, that I can neither believe in Nadya’s supposed hatred and xenophobic tendencies to the point of wanting to conquer Tranavia and essentially prepared to participate in a crusade against them nor her supposed doubts in her gods and her cause with actions like sparing Felicíja and being attracted and caring about Malachiasz.

Nadya doesn’t have a proper character arc because Emily Duncan can’t be bothered writing out a character arc for Nadya properly.

She asks the voice how it can no longer be a god and the voice replies:

“How does a human girl become something divine and feared by the gods that gave her the power she wields?”

Oh, so we’re bringing the book’s tag line into this, are we?

I mean, it’s not like unfeasible that the gods might be afraid of a person they have given so much of their divine magic to - after all, I’ve fucked with God of War - but one) that magic is totally dependent on them giving it to her and ttwo) then why did so many of the gods grant her their blessings instead of just Marzenya especially since Marzenya is her patron?

Also, even if the magic that Nadya possesses all by herself makes her a threat, why did Marzenya even tell her about it in the first place? That seems counter-productive to me.

Anyways, Nadya asks the voice more questions and receives more answers, even if they’re not the answers she wants.

Where am I? What do you want? The being never answered her first question, but she held back asking again in hope she would receive some answers.

“Where you are is as irrelevant as it is immaterial. What I want is better answered by the question of what you want.”

Can I see you?

“You do not want to.”

Nadya flipped the pendant between her fingers. It had come with her. Had she been carrying this being around her neck all this time? Where had Kostya—of all people—found this? Why had he given it to her?

That’s a good question. Too bad Kostya’s greater relevancy to this book was left behind in Chapter 1.

Also, can I just say, carrying bits of/entire beings around with you attached to or inside of objects is a very specific niche of mine and I’m not afraid to say it. It’s literally one of the main points of one of my D&D characters.

Nadya remarks that she doesn’t know what she wants.    

“You think they can take your power away from you?”

I see someone has been watching the first season of Winx Club. 

Nadya states that they can because they’re the ones who gave it to her in the first place. The voice tells her that that’s not true.

“Our time together grows short. You must make a choice, little bird. Do you continue on with your wings clipped or do you fly?”

Darkness plunged back around Nadya—abrupt and severe—as the necklace slipped out of her hands and pain crashed back down onto her.

Oh dear fucking lord, is this thing connected with goddamn Malachiasz?! Is that what’s going on here? Because Malachiasz calls her little bird or whatever. Ugh. Thanks, I hate it and I want a refund.

Anyways, that’s the end of that chapter!

#sarah reads ws #blood tw #i listened to the midnight on repeat reading this #you should listen to them too

[kazosa]

A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

Summary: All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Appearances by: Chuck Shurely, Donna Hanscum

Chapter Synopsis: reader and her boss, Chuck, have a talk and it doesn’t go well. Dean has a proposal to solve both of their problems.

Word count: 3450

Warnings: language, thievery, conniving

Tagging: @coffee-obsessed-writer (if you want to be added to the tags, holla)

(this will be a multi-chapter series until I get all the words out)

    Dean flipped the green invitation over in his hands, the gold lettering reflecting the light. It was same card stock the cheap, old bastard always used. This one, however, had a snowflake at the top and requested his presence for the annual Christmas party. The dread was already seeping in. The inevitable questions would come up.

    “Do you have a special someone?” then watching their faces drop when he said ‘no’. The disappointment, the sadness, the pity. If it didn’t come from his family, it would come from the shareholders.

    There had never been a real time-table on when his dad was going to retire, but John Winchester had been hinting heavily at it for the last six months. To make matters worse, Dean’s brother, Sam, had gotten engaged to his long-time girlfriend, Jess, at Thanksgiving.

    Dean never understood why being married was a requirement to run the family business. He didn’t need someone distracting him, there was no time for anything more than a one-night stand. His focus had been on creating new blends and staying relevant in the brewing community. If he was going to have any shot at running the business, he needed to, at least, make it look like he was going to have or already did have a long-term relationship.

    He tossed the invitation on the coffee table and got up from his couch. He had less than a week to get it figured out, but other things needed his attention. Grabbing his brown leather jacket and keys, he headed down to the garages. Baby needed a tune up and he didn’t have time to do it himself.

      Business was good. It was always good, and you were confident it was because of you. You did most of the work in the garage and stayed late to help with the books and maintaining inventory. Chuck was deep in the black and you weren’t being cut in on the profits. Getting your own custom design garage going had been a dream and you were saving up for it. You were still a year, maybe two away from having your start up capital at the rate you were going. With Chuck not sharing the profits you were responsible for generating, you asked him for a meeting to talk about it.

    “Damnit, Chuck, you can’t do this to me,” you pleaded. “I’m the reason you’re going on vacation every quarter. No one is going to give me the loans I need until I get my down payment secured. I was counting on you.”

    “(Y|N), if I hand you everything, you won’t appreciate what you have. You’ll never get the work ethic to see something through to completion without help,” he looked so smug sitting in his desk chair. “There’s nothing wrong with this garage and working here. I don’t understand why you’d want to leave.”

    The deep, throaty sounds of the muscle cars that were the bread and butter of the business were in the background noise of the rage you were feeling toward Chuck. You were vaguely aware of movement outside the door of Chuck’s office.

    “This is a load of bullshit. Do you hear yourself?! Do you actually believe the crap that comes out of your mouth? You know what an asset I am and you’re screwing me over to keep e here,” you could feel the heat of your rage begin to crawl up your neck.

    “I’d like to remind you that you’re under contract until the end of the month. You can either resign for another year, or you can walk.”

    “So, you’ve already made up your mind? This is it?” you were numb.

    “January 1st. 1 P.M. You’re not here to sign, I’ll consider your resignation immediate. No hard feelings,” Chuck’s voice was cool and controlled.

    “Anything else?” you matched his tone.

    “No. You can go,” he was almost glib.

    You were clenching your teeth, willing yourself not to break. Quickly, you turned and left Chuck’s office. the old wood and glass door rattled as it closed behind you. Too caught up in the disaster your life had suddenly become, you didn’t notice the man on the visitor couch until he cleared his throat.

    “The hell do you want?” you growled. “Oh, right, tune up.”

    You saw the car outside first before you’d put the information together.

    “Sorry, it’s not you. Winchester, right?” you asked.

    Dean stood up, but he didn’t move. For a man as big as he is and normally so confident, it was a little odd to see him so apprehensive.

    “Yes, but that’s not all,” he said.

    “Not interested,” you really hoped he wouldn’t be like the shocking majority of your customers and not hit on you. They all seemed to want to take you away, provide for you, or some crap about you being a woman mechanic. No one ever took time to get to know you.

    “What? No, wait. I have a proposition for you!” he tried to stop you from walking away.

    “Get the hell out of my garage,” you ordered.

    “Shit! No, it’s not like that! I mean, it is, but it’s not what you think,” he tried to get you to stop and listen.

    You looked at your crazy customer. Over the last year, you’d seen Dean for regular oil changes and a few other minor repairs you were sure he could have done himself. You’d gotten acquainted with him, but not much more than car talk.

    “Can we talk in private somewhere?” he asked earnestly.

    The ‘talk’ with Chuck was still ringing in your ears. You brushed off your hands on your coveralls and said, “Sure, what the hell.”

    The short walk to the café on the corner wasn’t long enough to cool off your flared temper. This Dean guy was working your nerves, too, but at least Donna’s brought the promise of hot drinks and donuts. Reaching for the door, you puled it open letting both you and Dean in. The smell of donuts, cookies, and coffee greeted you, as well as the owner of the store.

    “Hi kiddo!” she called from behind the counter. “Have a seat, be right with ya!”

    “She’s … cheerful,” Dean observed.

    You were feeling better already. Donna’s was the place you went to almost every day. She had the best donuts in town, a small variety of coffee, and now that the weather had turned, apple cider and hot chocolate.

    “Donna is the best. She takes care of everybody,” you felt yourself smiling. You stopped near your favorite booth and turned to face Dean.

    “Have a sea, I need to go wash my hands,” you held up your grease stained hands. “Donna keeps Lava for me. Be right back.”

    You didn’t wait for Dean to slide into the booth. You didn’t even care if he was there when you got back, but you were curious to hear what “proposition” he had for you. In the bathroom, you barely had time to turn on the faucet and grab the soap before Donna came bursting in through the door.

    “(Y|N)! Oh my gosh, who is mister cutie-pie out there?! And are you two going to…”

    “Donna! Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” you warned.

    “What?! He’s CUTE! If you’re not going to, send him back my way, huh?”

    Donna was too much, sometimes.

    “He’s a customer and we’re going to talk business,” you were using the scrubbing soap Donna hid under the sink, just for you.

    “I don’t care, you better get his number, then tell me all about it!”

    “Donna!”

    The woman you thought of as a sister, gave you a wink before she bustled out of the bathroom. The gritty soap worked loose the grease that stuck to your skin and rinsed off your hands. The soap worked well but left your hands dry. When you put away the soap, you put half a pump of lotion in your hand and worked if into your skin. Miraculously, when you did a mirror check, no stray strands of hair had escaped your bandana headband. Calling it a win, you went back out to the booth where Dean was still waiting for you.

    Dean sat at the booth, hands clasped in front of him, looking a little nervous. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen that look on his face. If that was how he looked for a business deal, you didn’t think you wanted to hear it.

    Putting your hand on the bench, you slid into the booth across from Dean. The menu was on the table and you put your hand on it, walking your fingers on it to bring it closer to you.

    “So, ahh,” Dean’s hands rapped out a rhythm on the table top, “you come here often?”

    He couldn’t see your face behind the menu to gauge your reaction to his poor choice in words. You didn’t roll your eyes, but you did raise an eyebrow at him.

    “Almost every day,” you admitted dryly.

    “Donna seems nice,” he said.

    You didn’t look up from your menu. You already knew what you wanted, you got the same thing every time. You were just in a bad mood and wanted to make Dean squirm a little.

    “Look… Dean,” you relented and put down the menu. “I only have so much time for my break.”

    “Seems like you might have a lot of free time soon,” he ventured.

    “And just how long were you eavesdropping? Man, you’re really batting .1000,” your voice rose in volume and attitude.

    “Your boss wasn’t being quiet when he gave you the ultimatum. Tow the line or get out, right?” he paused a moment. “You don’t seem like the conforming type.”

    “Oh really, and what type do I seem like?” your volume increasing again.

    “Hi kids! What can I getcha?!” Donna zoomed over to your booth and kicked your boot under the table.

    You started, “I’ll have…”

    Donna cut you off again, and without even looking at you, she said, looking at Dean, “I know what you want, I was talking to handsome, here.”

    For the first time ever, Donna’s bubbly personality bugged the shit out of you. How dare she be nice to the smug jerk across from you.

    “Any recommendations?” Dean asked, sweet as can be.

    “Powdered sugar donuts are on special,” Donna answered.

    “They’re on special every day, Donna,” you grumbled.

    “Doesn’t make ‘em any less special, sweetie,” she said, the usual cheer in her tone, ignoring your our one.

    Dean glanced at you, his expression wondering what he was missing.

    “Um,” he stalled.

    Donna glared at you.

    “In all fairness,” your attention went to Dean, “they are pretty amazing.”

    “You sold me,” he said and handed his menu to Donna, “Two and a black coffee.”

    “I’ll be right back,” she said, then mouthed the words “BE NICE” to you before going back behind the counter to fill your orders. You gave Donna a noncommittal shrug. She was back in just a few short minutes.

      Dean suspected that (Y|N) would be a tough sell on his plan. The whole drive to the garage he thought about what he was going to say. None of it sounded good. It all came out like garbage. After he parked his baby in the to-service area, he stepped inside the garage through the pass-through doors and to the right.

    (Y|N) was hard to miss. Not only was she the only woman in the shop, she had a style all her won, even in work clothes. She was in the office talking to the owner, Chuck. She had her pulled up, a bandana wrapped around her head. Her coveralls had the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and he couldn’t see, but he knew she was wearing beat up black combat boots.

    He took a seat in the waiting area. It didn’t take long before the conversation in the office became heated. He heard everything, and he finally knew how he could get her to help him. He stuck his foot in his mouth a few times, but she needed to get out of the shop and that worked to his advantage.

    They’d gone to a café on the corner and he found himself in a booth staring at an untrusting, angry (Y|N), and at a loss for words. (Y|N) gave off a vibe that she had zero fucks left to give, so he pulled no punches, even though he found her attitude slightly intimidating.

   “Look, I’m gonna get right to it, I need your help,” he began.

    “Oh yeah?” you were wary of what he might say next, “this is gonna be good.”

    “I’d like to pay you to do some…let’s call it ‘work.’ It’s out of the ordinary, but I’ll make it worth your while.”

    “How out of the ordinary are we talkin’ here?” you were curious.

    “I need a girlfriend for a week,” his voice was hushed

    You started sliding out of the booth, “You’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

   He half-stood on his side of the booth to stop you from leaving.

    “Hear me out, please. I swear it’s not what you think.”

    His hand was cool and firm on top of yours. When you looked at him, he was still hovering over his seat, his eyes pleading with you to stay. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was that made you change your mind, but you found yourself sitting back down in the booth to hear what he had to say.

    After you checked the time, you said, “You have fifteen minutes.”

    “My family owns a brewery and car dealerships where I’m from. My dad has been very controlling of it and didn’t want to try anything new or change anything about how business was done and... it was part of the reason I left.”

    “And the other part?” your curiosity about this job, and man, were growing.

    Dean squirmed in his seat. This was the tough part.

    “My dad thought it was important for the person he hands off the business to be in a solid relationship when he retires. They even tried to set me up with a “good girl” they thought would be good for me. Almost married her…There’s me and my brother left to take it over,” he said.

    “And you want it?” you guessed. You had other questions, but this was not the time.

    Dean nodded.

    “What’s the catch? There’s always a catch,” you asked.

    “The old man can spot a lie from a mile out. We’re really going to have to sell it. You might have to become my fiancé. I even have my grandmother’s ring if it comes down to it. The old man won’t give the business over unless he believes we’re real.”

    “What else are you leaving out?” you wanted to know.

    “My little brother got engaged at Thanksgiving. There’s a strong chance this won’t work,” he said.

    “And you’re afraid you’re not pop’s favorite?”

    “There’s that and I haven’t exactly been friendly with everyone and my track record with women has not been stellar,” he admitted.

    “You see he irony here, right?” you asked, and Dean gave you a “what are you gonna do” shrug.

    “Is your brother that much of a dick that he would try to snake the business from you by getting engaged?”

    “All he sees is the profit margins. He doesn’t love the business like I do. Never has.”

    You leaned back in the booth and polished off your donut and washed it down with the apple cider.

    “So, you want me to convince your family that we’re a sickeningly in love couple, so you can snake the business from him?” you deduced.

    Dean nodded again.

    “If I help you do this, what do I get out of it?” you wanted to know.

    “Would my unending appreciation be enough?” he asked.

    You crossed your arms and stared at him, unblinking, unamused by his joke.

    He leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones a though he were suddenly aware hey were in a public space.

    “I can provide the capital you needed that you aren’t getting from Chuck. I wouldn’t even need to be an investor. Just call it a gift, or a payment, or whatever, for services rendered,” he said.

    You definitely had not expected him to make you that kind of proposal. A lot of questions rolled through your head. How did he have that kind of money? He didn’t even know how much you needed. What was his dating history that he came to you?

    Dean was relieved that you were still in the booth with him. He could see you were thinking hard on what he’d offered.

    “And if you don’t get the business?”

    “Then I’m still screwed, and you can kick my ass,” he snorted.

    “I have the boots for that,” you said without missing a beat.

    “C’mon, sweetheart. Mutually beneficial deal here. Would it be so bad to pretend to like me for a week?”

    “No, not for the right price, I guess,” you said. “I’m not doing this for nothing, Winchester. And so long as we’re clear, it’s all for show. I’m not a whore to be bought, I just want my own garage. Why a week though?”

    “Not a problem. I don’t have time for a girlfriend, real or fake. The week is my dad’s doing. It’s the only time each year when we are required to show up. He makes a big deal out of it. Party for the whole company. Speaking of, do you have a dress?”

    You laughed, you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t believe the turn your day had taken. It was all so ridiculous. You had plenty of money saved, but you were unwilling to pony up the cash it would take to dress properly.

    “I have a dress, but I have no jewelry to go with it,” you said. “When do you need an answer about this?”

    You knew very little about Dean Winchester, but you’d found him to be mostly pleasant when you’d spoken to him in the past. You supposed there were worse ways to spend a week, especially with the possibility of losing your real job when you got back. But if it went well, you’d have the money to get your shop going. If it went poorly, you wouldn’t have your garage as quickly, but you might get a new friend out of it.

    “Soon as possible,” he responded.

    “I’ll let you know when you get your car tomorrow,” you started to slide out of the booth. “I gotta get back to work.”

      Dean followed her out of the booth and was going to walk her out when Donna stopped him.

    “Hey, buddy. No dine ‘n dash here,” she called out.

    He jerked his head around to see the back of (Y|N)’s coveralls walking away from him.

    “Nice,” he grumbled at her retreating figure. Turning back to the counter, he walked back to where Donna stood and pulled out his wallet. “My mistake.”

    Donna smiled brightly at him. It was like she had no “off” switch.

    “I used ta be a sheriff, didja know?” she asked.

    Dean shook his head and handed her a $20. Donna’s former career hadn’t come up in conversation.

    “Oh yeah. It gave me a particular set of skills acquired over a long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for guys like you. If you promise you’ll be a gentleman and not break my dear friend’s heart, I won’t look for you. I will not pursue you. But if you do, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

    Dean looked at the blonde woman. He felt like she was serious, but also like she might be jerking him around.

    “Did you just… Taken me?” he asked, waiting on his change.

    “Yeah! It’s good right?!”

    They both nodded and appreciated the reference. Donna turned serious again, her brown eyes burning through him.

    She extended her index finger at him to make her point, “I mean it, buck-o. You hurt her the D-Train is comin’ for ya.”

    She came around the corner, his change still in her hand.

    “It’s business, not happily ever after,” he said, letting her guide him to the door.

    “Well! That’s good, huh?!” she chirped. “Cuz cops know things. Thanks for the tip!” she put his change in her apron pocket.

    “Okay then,” she opened the door. “Thanks for coming in… Dean Winchester.” She patted his shoulder as she pushed him out the door. “Come back real soon, okay? Bye!”

    Dean walked out the door and was waiting for his ride to arrive before he realized he’d been hustled, twice.

    “Sonofabitch.”

Part 2

#dean Winchester x reader #au dean Winchester x reader #spn fan fiction #supernatural #reader insert

[emperorsfoot]

New one-shot, part of my “Elevator Monologue ” series. A missing scene from chapter 9 of “...Before Its Ever Even...”.

Since its just a short missing scene, and not very plot relevant, I don’t mind posting it here too instead of just linking it. (Although, I do prefer you comment on AO3 if you have comments you’d like to share.)

...

About as hesitantly as Zed had been when she came over, Devlin extended his fingers. He stroked up one of her pointed blue ears, paused to see if she was going to protest, whimper in fear, or run away. When she didn't, he repeated the motion on the other ear. Then Devlin looked at Kevin. Zed also turned her eyes to gaze at him, as if questioning what they were supposed to do now.

“There.” He said, smiling at them both. Legitimately smiling. Not just at Zed, but at Devlin too. Kevin never thought he would ever actually smile at his son for real. An honest to goodness smile of pride and affection. “Now, was that so bad?”

Zed gave a little wine of admission. No. It wasn't that bad. Devlin wasn't as bad as he was when he was still a new puppy.

Devlin pulled away. “She still hates me.”

“It'll take time.” Kevin assured him. Fixing broken relationships took time. Some more than others. The Osmosian had a lot of experience with that. It was easy to rebuild trust where there was already a history of trust. But Devlin was still newborn when he almost killed Zed. That was their history. That was their only history. There was no friendship before it to call back to or rebuild on.

Gwendolyn came out carrying a serving tray of spaghetti. She looked at both her boys sitting on the couch with the dog. Zed never hung out so close to Devlin. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Devlin said. He looked back at the dog, it was the first time Zed had let him touch her since he came to live with his mother. He glanced up at his father, and it was all thanks to Kevin of all people. “Actually, everything's fine.”

Who would have thought?

Upon seeing that human food was out and available, Zed abandoned the Osmosians in favor of pressing herself up against Gwendolyn's legs. The Anubian Baskurr gazed up at the sorceress expectantly, her crimson eyes big and sparkling. Zed might have become an elderly dog by this point, but she still managed to pull off the 'puppy-dog face' flawlessly.

But Gwendolyn just looked down at her, unimpressed. “If I don't let Kevin and Devlin give you human food, what makes you think you'll get any from me?”

Kevin stood from the couch.

“I can carry that.” He said, offering to take the spaghetti tray from her.

But Gwendolyn shifted her body, moving the tray out of his reach. “Ya know what else you can do?” She said. “Help our injured son to the table.”

“I can walk!” Devlin snapped from the couch. Both parents noted that, to spite his protests, the boy didn't actually make any move to get up under his own power.

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Kevin came back to the couch and hoisted his son up over his shoulder. Carrying him like a sack of potatoes, the Osmosian deposited him in an empty seat at the dining table.

Gwendolyn set out the spaghetti and the three of them sat down for what was their first ever dinner together.

Devlin looked from one parent to the other at a bit of a loss as to what to think. Sure, he'd seen his parents in the same room together. He'd seen them at Plumbers HQ, and at Gwendolyn's library, and sometimes just out around Bellwood. But he'd never seen them look so... domestic before. The whole picture -the whole idea- was a little too surreal for him.

“Eat something.” Kevin barked at him.

At least Dad was the same old Dad. Bossy and impatient. Good to know a change of scenery and change of company didn't change him. Devlin twirled a string of spaghetti around on his fork before lifting it to his mouth. He knew the sauce came from a jar, but Mom always added her own spices and seasonings to it which made the store bough sauce so much better.

Zed came up beside Kevin's chair and looked up at him expectantly. As if he owed her or something. And maybe because he made her let Devlin pet her, he kinda did. Besides, the Osmosian never had any problem feeding her human food before. This seemed to be no different. Kevin chanced a glance at Gwendolyn to make sure she wasn't paying attention. The sorceress was watching her son eat. Kevin carefully slid one of the turkey meatballs off his plate and onto the floor. Zed quickly scooped it up with her tongue and started chomping on it loudly.

Gwendolyn turned her head at the sound. “What's Zed got? Is she eating something? Kevin!”

“What?” The Osmosian feigned innocents -he wasn't very good at it.

“How many times have I told you not to feed her at the table and not to give her human food!” The sorceress glared at him. “She's not as young as she used to be, she needs to eat healthy. I spend good money on senior formula dog food made especially for Anubian Baskurr. Its not easy to get on Earth and only a few feed stores carry it -feed stores, not pet stores! So, could you please not let her fill up on our food which is full of sodiums and grains that are bad for her!”

“But she likes it.” Kevin argued back.

“You like moldy fluffeloafs.” Gwendolyn was quick to counter. “That doesn't mean their good for you.”

“I'm bad for you.” The Osmosian reminded his Anodite wife. “That doesn't seem to stop you from handing out with me or-” a quick glance at the child at the table “-doing other things with me.”

Devlin couldn't help but snort with amusement at the exchange. “You can say 'sex', Dad. I'm twelve, not stupid. I know what sex is.”

“Just so long as you're not having any.” Kevin brushed off his son's remark. The censorship was more for Gwendolyn's benefit than the boy's. The Osmosian assumed she would like to keep things clean and appropriate for mixed company or around preadolescent children.

“Bottom line: everyone likes things that are bad for them.” Scoffed the younger Osmosian.

“What do you like that's bad for you?” Gwendolyn asked, watching her son from across the table with a critical -almost concerned- look.

Devlin twirled more spaghetti on his fork, unbothered by his mother's scrutiny. His answer was casual, almost as if nothing about it mattered. “Soft drinks, processed foods, and -oh yeah!- the big one, helping Uncle Ben with his stupid alien and monster fights.” To illustrate this, the Osmosian lifted a leg and brought one injured and bandaged foot on the table. “But then, that's pretty standard in this family.”

“Get your feet off the table.” Kevin growled.

The boy slid his bandaged foot back to the floor.

Gwendolyn heaved a sigh. Her son made a valid point. Liking things that weren't exactly in ones own best interests was kind of a standard in their family -on both sides. She and Ben never could pass up the chance to nearly get themselves killed fighting aliens and monsters (or dating aliens and monsters). Kevin used to trade in contraband alien technology, and even after he went legit, would still continue to haggle with warlords and tyrants over the price tea on Khoros. Devlin liked tinkering with machines like his father, and tagging along with Ben on missions and pretending to be a Big Damn Hero -a combination of which lead to his current injury. So, yeah, self-destructive behavior was pretty standard in their family.

That didn't make it healthy.

Gwendolyn decided it was best to change the subject. “Tell me about school, Devlin. I know you were sent to ISS again last week, I hope you're remembering to catch up on the work you miss when they send you out of class.”

She did not suggest that he should amend his behavior so that he wasn't sent out of class anymore. The sorceress already learned that was a losing battle. So long as he wasn't attacking his classmates in the middle of tests or breaking bones for disputing the terms of a trade, she was happy.

“Yes. I am.” He assured his mother.

Kevin cast a sideways look at the boy. “Oh, really? Is that what you were doing with the textbook abandoned on the coffee table while you putzed around on your e-reader.”

Devlin cast his father a scathing look, as if to reprimand the older man for tattling on him. Out loud, he said, “How do you know I wasn't reading a book for school on my e-reader?”

“Well, were you reading a book for school?” Gwendolyn asked, fixing her son with a scrutinizing glare that seem to cut right through him. Dissect him in a way the boy thought only his therapist could. Peer down into his soul with her Anodite eyes.

“Um...” He faltered, suddenly unable to lie to his mother. Devlin opened his mouth, a semi-convincing half-truth ready on his lips. But Gwendolyn only raised a single scarlet eyebrow and the young Osmosian collapsed like a house of cards. “I was reading 'A Song of Ice and Fire'.”

Kevin didn't know what that was.

But Gwendolyn did.

“Devlin!” Her fork clattered onto her plate with a loud clinking of metal on porcelain. “You are too young to be reading that! How did you even get that on there? I put parental controls on it!”

“And I overrode them.” The boy informed her, proud of himself. His pride quickly deflated as her glare of disapproval only deepened. She was not impressed with her child's ability to hack his tech. Devlin sank into his seat. “I just really needed to know what all the memes were about. Okay? I did it for the memes.”

Kevin looked from one to the other, not understanding the objection here. Sure, the kid had been neglecting his homework, but it wasn't like he was rotting his brain on video games or doing drugs. He was reading. Wouldn't Gwendolyn be relieved he was reading? “I don't get it. What's the big deal?”

“Game of Thrones!” Gwendolyn snarled at him, as if he were a moron for also not having an objection. “Your twelve-year-old son is reading Game of Thrones.”

The Osmosian opened his mouth, thought about what he was about to say, decided he did not want to share. Like, yeah, Devlin was only twelve, and yeah, all the sex, violence, and death in the books was a little inappropriate for a normal human child that young. But Devlin wasn't exactly a normal human child and it wasn't like he didn't get his fair share of exposure to violence and death in his real life. Back when it was just him and Kevin, and Kevin was his most insane version of himself -Kevin 11,000- Devlin got a front row seat for Red Weddings, blowing up Septs of Baelor, and Battles of Bastards. Really, the only thing that might be in those books that Devlin hadn't been desensitized to would be all the gratuitous and creative fantasy sex.

Kevin remained tactfully silent.

He looked down at his plate and slid another meatball off it. It rolled off the table and landed on the floor next to Zed, whom scooped it up greedily, once again chomping loudly. Kevin would much rather have his wife mad at him about feed the dog human food than all the bloody, violent shit he exposed their younger-than-eleven-year-old son to over the course of his short life.

“Kevin! Stop that!” She snapped at him.

Zed gave a drawn-out little whine of an “Ar~rf!” As if to say, 'Oh my gawd! Shut up, Gwendolyn! You let me eat my own poop!'

“I want my dog to get the things she likes.” Argued the Osmosian. “As you keep reminding me, she's not that young anymore. She should be allowed to enjoy the time she's got!”

Zed let loose a loud bark of agreement.

“And I want her to have as much time as she can have!” Gwendolyn snarled back. “Don't you want her to have a long life?”

“What's more important to you, quantity of life, or quality of life?” Kevin demanded. “What's the point of prolonging a life if its not being enjoyed.”

“How can a creature enjoy a life that's cut short?” The sorceress evaded his question with one of her own.

Devlin sat there watching his parents argue. This conflict of philosophy really explained a lot about them and their disagreement about him and his very existence. Back when his mother was pregnant and dying because of said pregnancy. Kevin suggested terminating, and Gwendolyn refused to even consider the idea.

“They wouldn't care!” Kevin informed her. “They'd be dead.”

There was a strange kind of comfort to be found in nihilism.

“You are so heartless sometimes, Kevin!” Gwendolyn was raising her voice now. “I really don't understand how you can say these things so casually!”

“Look, I've had a hard life, and you know it. You were there for a lot of it. You got to witness first hand!” They were both using raised voices now.

Devlin couldn't help the schadenfreudian grin that pulled at his lips from watching the exchange. “Mom, Dad, please keep fighting.”

That comment got the adults to pause their disagreement. Both turning their attention to the boy at the same time.

“Eat your food, you need the calories to heal.” Kevin commanded.

Gwendolyn stood from her seat and exited the dining room. “I need to take those books off your e-reader and reset the parental controls.”

Devlin watched her head to the living room and pick up his e-reader. As she overrode the lock screen, the boy turned to his father. Leaning over the table, he hissed. “Okay, quickly, tell me everyone who dies and their method of death.”

Kevin twirled some spaghetti around his fork, unconcerned. “So, I never read the books, and -apparently- they're very different from the show. Just make a mental list of all your favorite characters and assume they die.”

“Thanks, Dad.” The boy groaned, unamused.

“Eat your food.” Repeated the older Osmosian. “Maybe if your mother see's you've cleaned your plate by the time she get's back in here, she won't look too closely at what else you have on your e-reader.”

“What makes you think I have anything else on my e-reader Mom might object to?” Devlin argued back, putting on his most innocent -and most fake- insulted glare.

“Because I was a twelve-year-old boy once.” Kevin reminded him.

The boy continued to glare at the older man for a bit longer, before deciding that maybe it was a good deal, and he should take it. He scooped up a giant wad of noodles and shoved them in his mouth, chewing loudly.

“Okay, but eat slower.” Kevin amended. “Otherwise you're gonna make yourself sick and I don't wanna have to clean up your puke.”

…

After dinner, Devlin was gassy and had a stomach ache because of it. Gwendolyn was pouring him a dose of Pepto while Kevin cleared the table.

Gathering up all the plates, he was given explicit instructions to deposit any uneaten food on them into the garbage disposer in the sink, and put any untouched spaghetti from the serving tray into a tupperware container. Under no circumstances was he to give any leftovers or uneaten scraps to Zed. At all.

Kevin carried everything to the kitchen, making a big show of ignoring the Anubian Baskurr's wines as she trailed behind him. He paused, at the sink, leaning away from the counter to peer out into the living room where Gwendolyn was standing over their son with a shot of pink stomach medicine and a glass over water.

“This better not be an act to get out of finishing your homework.” She was saying.

Gwendolyn seemed adequately distracted. Kevin set all three plates on the kitchen floor. “Zed,” he hissed, “help me clean these.”

The alien dog was all too happy to oblige. Lapping up the leftover sauce and scraps of meatball and noodle with loud licks.

“Okay, but do it quietly!” The Osmosian tried to keep his voice at a whisper while also putting enough authority into it to get the dog to listen.

Zed paused briefly to look up at him, then back to the living room where Gwendolyn was collecting the empty Pepto cup. She also took his e-reader with her. On her way to put the medicine away, Gwendolyn turned towards the kitchen slightly and the dog walked away from the plates before she could see and get mad at Kevin again.

“Good girl.” Muttered the Osmosian as he gathered up all three plates and deposited them in the sink.

Turning on the water, Kevin meant to just rince the plates off. But then they looked so close to being clean already, the Osmosian touched the lavender dish gloves that Gwendolyn kept there (she always bought them sized for own hands, not his) and absorbed the rubber. Squeezing some soap into the sponge, Kevin started actually washing the dishes. He was just finishing up the last plate when Gwendolyn came up behind him.

Circling her arms around his waist, she peered around his broad body. “Is Kevin Levin washing a dish!?”

He was about to reply with some kind of witty retort, but Gwendolyn had moved by the time he turned around. The sorceress was gathering up the pot and saucepan from the stove and threw them in the sink with the plate Kevin had just finished.

“I'll dry and put things away while you wash.” She smiled.

The Osmosian suppressed a groan. He preferred being the one who dried and put things away. It was the easier job, and besides, Kevin was taller. It was he didn't have to stand on his tip-toes or use mana to put things away in the higher cabinets. Besides, washing was gross. He preferred not to have to do the dirty part of the job.

But then Gwendolyn kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for being so sweet and considerate and, well, he couldn't refuse after that. So, before the Osmosian even know what he was doing, he had already scrubbed through the sauce pan and was currently rinsing soap off noodle pot.

When everything was done, Kevin even wiped down the counter.

Gwendolyn wrapped her arms around his waist again, this time turning him around to face her. Kevin encircled her waist in his own thick arms and pulled her closer to him. She leaned up, and he leaned down, both lips parting. Gwendolyn was ready for a sweet gentle open-mouthed kiss, her tongue waiting to dart out into his. But at the last moment, Kevin turned to the side. Whispering in her ear, breath hot on her lobe.

“Ya know, I didn't bring my pajamas.”

“That's good...” She whispered, back. Her own voice taking on a thick heady quality. It sent a shiver down Kevin's back. “...Because you're not spending the night here.”

“What!?” He pulled away. Looking at her confused, and slightly betrayed. He thought they made so much progress! She let him in the house while their son was here. Devlin was more comfortable with him. “But you said I was doing good. I did do good. I got Zed to let Delvin pet her!” He snapped his fingers at the dog. “Zed, go let Devlin pet you again!”

The Anubian Baskurr just turned her head to look at him, gave a short snip of an “urf”, and trotted through the kitchen dog-door, and out of the house. She let Devlin pet her once already today.

“She still hates me!” The boy shouted from the living room where he was -finally- working on his homework -for real.

“She barely knows you!” Kevin called back.

“I live with her!” Devlin continued to argue.

“Okay, stop shouting across the house!” Gwendolyn grabbed Kevin by the arm and dragged him out of the kitchen. She pushed him down on the couch next to their son. “Now, finish your conversation using your inside voices. After that, Kevin, you're gonna make sure Devlin stays on task and gets his homework done. Then I'll check it over and, Devlin, you can have your e-reader back. I've already taken off all the inappropriate books and changed my Kindle password.”

“Hey, does he get internet on that thing?” Kevin asked. “'Cause you should also check his AO3 feeds. Just to be safe.”

“Shut-up, Dad!” The boy snarled, practically jumping off the couch as he launched himself to his feet. Completely ignoring the discomfort from putting his full weight on his burns.

Gwendolyn paused, glaring at her son and wondering exactly what tags her twelve-year-old son was searching that Kevin thought should be checked for her approval. What was Devlin looking at that she might object to?

“You'll get your e-reader back tomorrow.” She walked back into the kitchen to make up a to-go container for Kevin's portion of the leftovers.

Devlin flopped back down on the couch. “Why are you so terrible all the time?”

The older man only shrugged. “Why do you read instead of looking at stuff like a normal guy?”

“For the plot, obviously.”

Kevin only flashed him a skeptical look. The things that he was reading that Gwendolyn might object to included many things a pubescent pre-teen might be interested in. None of them were 'plot'. But the older man didn't call him on it. Instead, the Osmosian tried to bring his son back to task. “Get back to your homework.”

He was still new to the whole 'responsible and nurturing parent' thing.

Devlin stuck his tongue out at the older Osmosian. But he pulled his textbook onto his lap and got to work all the same. After a few minutes of watching his son fill out short-answer questions on a separate sheet of paper, Kevin got board. He stood from the couch and wandered back into the kitchen where Gwendolyn was just finishing up a sweet little to-go bag for him. Complete with the spaghetti they just ate, some bread, and sliced fruit -because she knew he didn't have anything fresh at his own place.

“I guess this means its time to go?” He asked.

“Only if you don't want to stay and help me helicopter around Devlin for the rest of the night.” She answered.

Amazingly, that did not sound particularly appealing to the Osmosian. “I'll head back.” He took the to-go bag. “When can I see you again?”

“The next day that Devlin has his therapy appointment.” Gwendolyn supplied. “We can grab dinner after work.”

“That sounds nice.” He wrapped an arms around her, pulling the sorceress flush against his body.

This time, she she leaned up and he leaned down, Kevin did not turn away. Their lips met, parted, and Gwendolyn's tongue slithered out to slide along her husband's. The Osmosian pressed deeper, and the sorceress gave a light moan... ...before pushing him away.

“Don't go starting any of that, mister.” She warned. “I already told you, you can't spend the night.”

“Right.” He muttered.

Kevin didn't know why he was so disappointed. What was he expecting? Gwendolyn just barely let him have dinner with them. That didn't mean that everything was fixed in their relationship, she implicitly trusted him again, and would allow him to be around their son for extended periods. It was literally just dinner.

Gripping the leftovers in one hand, the Osmosian exited the kitchen.

“Bye, Brat, I'm leaving.” He told his son as he passed the couch.

“Be a stranger.” The younger Osmosian replied.

Kevin left.

He went home with a tupperware container of leftover spaghetti and meatballs, and a good feeling in his chest. It was nice having dinner with the wife and kid.

But Gwendolyn still wouldn't let him spend the night. She now trusted him enough to be around their son so long as she was present and in a position to easily intervene should hostilities arise between father and son. But she did not trust him to stay in the house over night while Devlin was there. Not when she was asleep and not alert.

After all, it was in the middle of the night when she was asleep that Kevin originally kidnapped the boy in the first place. He understood, and was amazed at just how much trust in him had been restored already. Sure, their relationship was completely and perfectly healed. But it was well on its way there. That was Kevin could ask for.

…

END

#fan fiction #gwevin #Ben 10 #devlin levin #Gwen is Devlin's mother #Devlin is Gwen's son #Kevin Levin #gwen tennyson #Kevin 11000 #Devlin 11 #Bad Luck #Zed #family dinner #game of thrones #Devlin is gay #RenkonNairu

[spnrelatedurl]

Con-Blue’s - Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, I’ll put another A/N at the end of this chapter, but I wanted to say thank you to everyone who’s liked and commented on my stories so far. this is a Jensen!daughter fic, and the daughter’s gonna be a little different to everyone else. It plays a major role and it’s something I live with, and always will. People think Autism hinders you, but in reality it is you. I love my autism. I hope people will think I write mine with justice. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this story and want more of it. Please like, comment, and talk to me. I love my followers! (and constructive criticism is always welcome to. I’m always looking to better myself.)

Trigger Warnings: Autism, Long Lost Family, Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment.

Summary: Veronica “Ronnie” Lockhart found something in her life that she never needed nor wanted. She never asked him for a damn thing. That is until her mother kicked her out. Now Ronnie needs the help of her father, Jensen Ackles. She’s a girl with autism, and she hates change. But maybe this one will be the change she’s always needed to feel at home with herself. With the help of the Supernatural cast and families, as well as her best friend Alex, will her life finally stabilize?

Word count: 3001

Tag List:  @winchesters-favorite-girl  @winchester-writes  @storyofawinchester  @rosie-winchester  @bea789 (Anyone can be added. Just ask!)

“Are you sure you want to do this, Ronnie?” My best friend, Alex asked for the trillionth time today. And to think, this all started a month ago at school.

Mrs Newbury was, as per usual, droning on and on about something scientific. I’ll be completely honest with you, I’m terrible at science. I keep failing it, and nothing even motivates me to try and pass my classes. I’m not all that academic. Besides English and Performing Arts, I don’t really do well at school. Not that it’s a massive problem for the school board. They blag it off as us being special needs students. Which we are, but I feel like that’s all the school thinks of us. But I’m starting to drone on about school, and let’s face it, nobody deserves to be that bored, so let me tell you the relevant points about that day.

We were told to do a family tree for homework, which didn’t initially scare me because I figured they’d give me just my mother’s side to do.

Mrs Newbury is very traditional, so I had to do my father’s side as well.

I had no clue who my father was at that point.

I dreaded going home to ask my mum about my dad’s side of the family.

Mrs Newbury has had it in for me ever since I burned her sheets on a Bunsen burner one lesson.

And that school day wasn’t even the worst I’d had in my life. It’s what happened once I came home.

You see, I’ve asked my mum about my dad about three times in my life. Once when I was really little and started learning that everyone has a dad. The second time was when I was a bit older and went to the doctors. They asked my mum if there was any history of hereditary illnesses, so I asked if dad had. And the third time, I did it to piss her off. She’s always hated the mention of the man, and whenever my grandma mentions my father, she doesn’t speak to her for a month. So asking her about it for school makes me feel like being sick.

I walked in through the front door and smiled nervously at her. I mentioned Mrs Newbury gave us a project and I needed my birth certificate. She froze in her place for about five seconds before going absolutely ballistic. “If you want your birth certificate so much, you should leave this house!” Were her exact words. I was so angry at that point. Why was she so defensive? Well, I found out as soon as she threw the crumpled piece of paper at me.

Turns out my dad is Jensen Ackles, star of my favourite TV show, Supernatural. So I’ve been looking up to this guy for ages, and been going on about him and his co-stars to her, and whatever happened, it ended badly. So after a week of meticulous planning, I got in touch with my American pen pal, Alex Gateley. He’s so funny and we’ve been speaking for years. Since we bonded over a band online. And then we came up with a plan.

“If only I had the money. Then I’d buy a plane ticket, find him at a convention in America, and then the rest will be history.” I said to him.

“Veronica, you do realise I can help you?” Alex replied.

His family isn’t wealthy, but they have enough money to burn it a bit. I shook my head and told him I couldn’t do that.

“My parents love you. They’ve always wanted to meet you. And as we’ve been speaking I’ve found out that they have a con in Los Angeles in three weeks. That’s a thirty-minute drive from where I live. So you can stay at our place. And then when it’s con time I can drive us there. Sound good?” He asked.

I kept saying it was too much for him to do, but he kept insisting and I eventually gave in. And skip ahead a few weeks, and we’re outside the con.

“It’s something I have to do, Alex. Whether I’m sure or not.” I told him. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just scratched the back of his neck.

“Got the birth certificate?” He asked. I nodded my head.

I smoothed over it’s folds with my thumb. It was now the single most important possession of mine. I kept it zipped up in my pocket. We left and locked the car then made our way into the con. Even from outside you could feel the excitement in the atmosphere. I must’ve been the only person there who was tense as hell. Apart from maybe Alex, but he was tense for different reasons. He was stressed for me, and making sure everything ended up okay. I was tense to do it though. But I knew I had to. We went to the counter and got checked in.

“You guys don’t have any photo ops or autographs? I guess it’s fun just to be in the hall anyway.” One of the workers said for chatter. The hall is where it would have to happen, I guess.

“When’s the first Q+A for Jensen?” Alex asked with a smile on his face. He always was a bit of a charmer.

“That’s starting in…” She began, checking the timetable. “Five minutes. I guess you should go. Have fun!” She said with a kind smile on her face. Her bubbly attitude was kind of grating at the moment. But usually I’d be just as bubbly. Maybe even hyper. I don’t know. I guess I haven’t been myself since this whole thing started. I blame Mrs. Newbury.

We walked into the hall and took our seats – hoping and praying I’d get a chance to talk to him. I knew I wouldn’t get too many chances at this. He was only here for the weekend and doing two Q+A’s in total. Everyone in the room was buzzing for him to come on stage. Well, him and Jared – his co-star and best friend. When they finally did it was like the room exploded into cheers and applause of star struck delight.

“Hey guys!” Jared greeted with a wave. Jensen just waved with him with a huge grin on his face. You could tell how much they love doing this. And here I am, possibly about to ruin one of their lives. I sat down along with everyone else in the room.

“So, who has questions for us?” Jensen asked. We made a plan earlier to both raise both our hands so we get an even bigger chance, but right now I didn’t think I could. I guess my heart was ignoring my head as my arm raised gradually. And what am I even going to say to him if I get picked to speak? “Oh yeah, just wanted to say I think I’m your daughter. I mean, why would my mum lie, right?!” Nah, that’s way too casual. And it wouldn’t accurately express everything anyway. Besides, I’d probably get kicked out of the con and I’d never know.

“Well, we rarely get guys asking questions. How ‘bout you?” Jared asked, pointing at Alex. A microphone was passed to him, and it was then that I realised, I didn’t have a lot of time to figure out what I was going to say. I guess I’ll just have to improvise. But how could I improvise what was essentially a make or break moment of my life.

“Uh-“ Alex said, nervous as hell. I couldn’t blame him. He hates being centre of attention. If it were up to him he’d be a hermit crab. Besides, what he was about to start was the furthest thing from a hermit’s chosen lifestyle. “I actually came here with someone who has a really important question to ask you. Is it okay if I just pass you on to her?” He asked, gulping. Jensen smiled and nodded his head.

Suddenly the microphone was handed to me, and I felt everyone’s eyes on me. Alex sat down straight away, leaving me to stand up. I used my free hand to unzip my pocket and put my hand in it. The certificate was still there. I scrunched my eyes shut tight. Then I opened them.

“Hey. I’m Veronica Lockhart – daughter of Brynn Lockhart.” I added. Jensen’s eyes widened slightly as everyone else in the room seemed to giggle.

“Thank you for stating your ancestor’s name. Are all Brits like this?” Jared jested. Not out of nastiness. Just because he’s like that. At least from what I’ve gathered from interviews and stuff.

“My question is for Jensen.” I said, noticing Jensen already getting emotional. “Do you remember her? At all? Because if you don’t that’s fine. But if you do, I think you can gather who I might be.” I said. The whole room turned into a state of confusion. Apart from the three in the know. Me, Alex, and Jensen.

“Y…You mean…?” He asked, with a quavering voice.

“I don’t know for sure, but I have my birth certificate.” I said. I took the paper out of my pocket. It’s so weird. I wouldn’t expect to have a piece of paper become so significant in my life. “I would’ve spoken to you privately, but there was no money left from my flight. My mum kicked me out. There was no way mum would give me a clue about how to find you. And I couldn’t get a photo op or an autograph. My whole life my mum has been evading the whole discussion of my father. But I think you’re it.” I said, with tears in my eyes. Everyone around me seemed to be in shock, but I was hyper-focussed on trying to figure out what Jensen was thinking. I could barely see him. He was such a blurry figure through the tears. Even Alex stroking my hand with his thumb felt numb.

“J?” Jared said in the mic, trying to get Jensen’s attention. I was hysterically crying. I never wanted it, and now it’s here it’s like it’s not how I wanted it at all. There was no way this could make me happy.

“I’m sorry.” I said. I ran out of the convention with Alex hot on my tail.

I covered my mouth with my hand and let out these guttural sobs, then as they turned into hiccupping cries, my hand lowered to my stomach. Alex caught up with me and put his hand on my shoulder.

“It’ll be okay.” He said, pulling me into a hug. I sniffed.

“No. It won’t. I’ve basically just ruined his life.” I said through my choky moans. “Can we just drive somewhere?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t go anywhere if I were you.” A voice said from behind me, and I turned around to see the owner.

A large man with huge muscles came forward. He had a lot of tattoos, a bald head, a greying beard and sunglasses. He came closer.

“Leave her alone, man. She’s had a rough day.” Alex stood up for me. He kind of separated me from him. Sort of ironic considering Alex’s skinny stature and timid presentation.

“I know that, I promise I’m not here to hurt either of you. I’m here to help. I’m Jensen’s body guard.” He said.

“How can we be sure?” Alex asked. He had a point. I mean, apart from having all the right looks of a body guard, we had no definitive proof he was who he said he was.

“My name’s Clif Kosterman. One f. You can look me up online, I swear I’m here on his behalf.” He said. Even from that I could tell he was genuine, but Alex looked him up just to be sure. I looked at the screen as he typed. Pictures of him with the guys came up. It was true.

“Well, if you’re here to tell me to never see him again, you don’t have to worry. I’m sure he wouldn’t want me after I ruined his career and family anyway.” I said with finality in my voice.

“He wants to talk. He sent me to run after you. He doesn’t want the situation to escalate for your sake.” He said. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Alex let out a breath of laughter.

“Bit late for that, don’t ya think?” He said, getting angry on my behalf.

“It’s okay, Alex.” I said, not wanting him to get in any trouble. Besides, if we should get angry at anyone, it should be my mum.

“No. No it’s not okay. You deserve better.” Alex said. I shook my head.

“I don’t deserve anything. Okay? I expect nothing and I still get less. I don’t even get a family. I can guess how this conversation’s gonna go. Let’s just get it over with.” I said. Clif shifted awkwardly, then led us to the green room. Basically the room for the stars to unwind and take a break. We went through the back of the convention and entered the room. It was empty apart from one man. Jensen.

He looked how I always imagined him to look in person. Skinny, yet muscly. Tall, but not overwhelmingly so. He had sandy blonde hair, green eyes, a slightly different shade than mine, but the same shape. He had freckles, heavy stubble. Everything about him looked how I imagined him. Everything apart from the bags under his eyes. He must be taking this hard. Not that I’m exactly easy to handle.

“Wh- um… How long have you known?” He asked.

“About a month.” I answered. We all walked further into the room and Clif closed the door. Everyone was sitting down, but I stayed standing. I knew I wouldn’t be here for long. I just needed to handle it. To rip it off like a plaster. He smiled slightly.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“Eighteen… just.” I answered.

“Finishing school soon then?” He asked, attempting small talk.

“Jensen, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry I dropped that bomb on you. It wasn’t fair. But I had no other way of finding out if it was true, and even now I have no way of knowing it is.” I said.

“What are you talking about? Of course…” He began rather quickly, then he cleared his throat, looked at the coffee he was swirling around in his paper cup, then looked back up at me with a slight smile. “Of course you’re mine.”

“What? So that’s all you’re gonna say? How do you know?” Alex pressed.

“Well, we can do a paternity test. I think we both need confirmation, but I think… No, I’m sure of what the results will be. It’s just – she lied. She completely lied to me. After everything…” He said, being vague about everything he was saying.

“Even if we do a paternity test, what then? What will your family say? I’m sure I’m not wanted by them, and I’ve ruined your life enough.”

“You think you’ve ruined my life?” He asked, sounding sad.

“You don’t exactly seem impressed by my presence.” I pointed out.

“I am. Believe me, I am. It’s just… I don’t know. A shock, I guess? I’m gonna do right by you. I promise. It’s a lot to get my head around.” He said to me. I calmed down a bit then. I walked slowly to the nearest chair and then sat down.

“What have your family said?” Alex asked.

“Well, I’ve just texted Danneel. She’s still writing back. It’s a lot to process for both of us.” He said. “How do you two know each other?”

“Oh, um. Online. We met on this website. Kind of a fan website of our favourite band at the time. They’re actually my favourite band still for that reason alone.” Alex said. I couldn’t help a slight smile from being plastered on my face.

“What band?” Jensen asked, trying to take an interest.

“Dust Biters.” I answered meekly.

“Cool. Um, when did you become boyfriend and girlfriend?” Jensen asked. My eyes widened and cheeks flushed a rose red.

“We’re not.” I said.

Not that I haven’t thought about it. Alex is, for a lack of better word, hot! He’s got messy, side swept brown hair, and he wears a bandana to keep it from falling over his face most of the time. He’s got dark brown eyes and an almost constant cheeky grin. His humour makes me adore him. But he’s my friend. I wouldn’t even think about becoming more than that. It’ll never happen. Alex looked as embarrassed as me.

“Oh. Sorry.” He said. For him the awkwardness was over. For me and Alex, we were still revelling in it.

Suddenly Jensen’s phone buzzed. Again and again. I guess Danneel decided to call him.

“I guess I’ll answer this.” He said, picking up his phone. Clif then tried to get my attention.

“This uncertainty will pass, kid. I promise ya.” He said. I smiled gratefully at him. Looks can be really deceiving. When I first saw him I thought he was gonna kill me. Turns out he might be about the most helpful human being in the world.

“Hey honey.” Jensen greeted over the phone. “Yeah, she’s with me… no, no… oh yeah. Of course we are. No, I totally agree. Did you tell the kids…? Right. No. No and I don’t think I should for a while. Yeah but not now. I know. Of course I love you… like five minutes. Yeah we’re getting it done as soon as possible. Okay. I’ll call you after. Love you too. Bye.” He said before switching off his phone.

“Is… is she okay with this?” I asked. Jensen turned to look at me. For the first time today, I couldn’t read him at all.

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you liked this chapter! So, mainly I just wanted to say that Alex Gaskarth is who I envision to play Alex in the story, so if the gifs I add seem off because of different people playing different roles, just know that it’s because I see different people who have never met (to my knowledge) merging together and being the people in this fic. As well as this, I want to say about the tags: Of course everyone’s welcome to be on the list, whether it be for this story or every story I write. However, I also want to say that if your url changes could you please notify me? It’d help heaps. And if you don’t want to be in my tag list anymore, please don’t hesitate to tell me. You don’t have to say why, and I won’t judge. These fics are only for fun and to get to know you all better. But I digress. If there’s anything at all you want to talk to me about - be it about the fic or otherwise, my ask box is always open! See you around! :D

(This is not a Danneel hate fic. She’s a good’un in this fic, as I’m sure she is in real life. Any hate for ANY of the IRL actors portrayed in this fic will NOT be tolerated.)

#Jensen Ackles #jensen!daughter fic #Supernatural RPF #spn rpf #RPF #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #danneel ackles #supernatural #SPN #con-blues

[miriolemillion]

Thoughts on chapter 152

Phewie! This chapter was probably very emotional to all of us, especially us Mirio and Big Three fans! I’ve just finished reading the new chapter and I myself, am all jittery and just sjdsdjksdk WOW this chapter is A LOT to digest. Feelings? What ARE THOSE. MIRIO. Mirio. A mirio chapter. The third one in a row which makes me go WOW but also kinda anxiously screaming and just. THIS MIGHT BE TOO PLOT INVOLVING TO MY TASTE but also I rly want that to happen and I’m thirsty for Mirio content so GIMME.

First of all I want to say that this chapter didn’t get to me to the fullest until I got to the flashback scenes, but I wanna try and calm myself and stay consistent with my commentary and hold my horses ahah. Before the chapter, there were three things I had in mind:

1st) something WILL happen to Mirio. (even if all the deathflags in his tag made me go eh, I still believed sth will happen.) And if it’s not death, it’s probably gonna be that he will lose his quirk, due to the last scene in ch 151 with the bullets.

2) It (the sth that happens) will be plotrelevant. We saw it coming. There was so much going up to that arc, and so much was relevant to Mirio, to introducing him, making him sb that Midoriya looks up to, sb who COULD have been like all might, kinda was, could have been what midoriya probably will be, sb who had a hard time but tries even harder. This all made it clear that the arc will have sth abt Mirio which will get the story going and have a greater impact on the storyline.

3) whatever WILL happen, I probably won’t like it due to my habit of picking favourites and not getting genuinely warm with the main-main cast (I’m so sorry, the third years caught my heart, even more than once...)

TL:DR - I analyze what Horikoshi is probably trying to do with Mirio’s character and why the stuff is happening that happened, while being extremely disappointed on how it was carried out. Also I don’t want Mirio to lose his quirk bc I think it’s so... unnecessary. Cheers.

(disclaimer: I’m trying to be critical while still enjoying Horikoshi’s work! Also I love Midoriya just a -- eh-- heads up...)

ALSO I WROTE THIS AT THE END OF THE DAY COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED PLS DONT MIND GRAMMAR OR ORTHOGRAPHIC MISTAKES THANKS

There was the whole debate going on, will Mirio die, will he live but “lose” something veery important to him, will he be able to save Eri but get harmed severely... So when I first saw the first few panels my first thought was “oh god he will def get shot and probably lose his quirk”. And that’s probably what would be the “big plottwist” that gets the story going and I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THIS.

For one thing, I would absolutely love to get more “angst” for Mirio going, I love when my favourite boys experience some sort of pain and grow from it, but on the other hand he already had to go through so much to get where he was and become this strong so it feels a little unnecessary to make him lose his quirk completely. We already have All Might for that kind of storyline and there are plenty of other characters whose quirks could probably called “useless” but they prove that wrong. Not to forget that the whole point of boku no hero is that someone who is /quirkless/ can actually find a way to get one and become a hero this way... so yeah... this is why I conclude: A Midoriya/Mirio thing.

The whole point of Mirio “Lemillion” Togata existing in bnha is most likely to make Midoriya stand out as the pro hero to be as Mirio himself loses his quirk and experiences pain that way and I don’t like it one. damn. bit. People would probably disagree and I want to disagree myself but when I think back to earlier chapters when Mirio was just introduced, suddenly there is this whole new stuff about All Might and how Mirio was actually supposed to be his successor and there was a lot of drama (Midoriya even cried bc it was too much stress with all the stuff going on and the internship and then he wasn’t even meant to be the one? Well congrats Midoriya now Mirio doesn’t have one anyway...). It definitely was on Midoriya’s mind a lot and it was clear that there was supposed to be some kind of mentorship between the senpai and kouhai, both kind of successors of All Might.

We already had All Might losing his quirk dramatically, what even is the point?

The point is that Mirio is probably here to show that one can be a hero despite not having a quirk. And I would laugh my salty laugh if he manages what Midoriya couldn’t: become a hero without your favourite hero maigcally appearning from the sky and handing you his dna to become the protagonist of a super hero story. (oh wow my salt level is rising with writing this oops...)

Don’t get me wrong I love Midoriya with all my heart, I love his relationship with Mirio and that he finally has somebody to ask questions and hang out with a third year senpai. In fact I think it’s lovely. I’m just questioning whether it was really necessary to put Mirio in this position for dramatic effect. And what will Mirio do about it?

We don’t know the extent of Eri’s powers nor do we know if her qirk even fully manifested. She’s still a child, her quirk could be weak, her quirk could be something entirely different, or later in life she could even be able to grant quirks or give them back, however you want to see it. I would definitely love to see that, give Mirio his angsty arc where he overcomes his frustration and sadness and then Eri appears and helps him recover. If anyone would deserve it than Mirio.

Even more so after reading this chapter, and noticing all these panels of the flashback scenes (and GOD am I weak for childhood flasbacks aaaa MIRIO’S FATHER DJSDKJSD and the miritama childhood panel absolutely KILLED ME), it opened my eyes just how bad Mirio thinks of himself. How low of an opinion he has on himself. It was shocking because you get introduced to Tamaki and think “yeah, he feels so bad about himself, good that there is his buddy mirio to cheer him up”... JUST THAT IT’S ACTUALLY THE OTHER WAY ROUND. Tamaki might have felt inspired from Mirio to strive even harder bc of his hard-working attitude but boy does Mirio need all the cheering up from his friend.

I mean just LOOK AT THEM SOBS. This was actually my favourite part of the new chapter, that we get to see more of the Big Three’s origins and how they came to be friends. I always thought that Mirio and Tamaki were practically always a duo from point one since they started at UA and gradually Nejire appeared in their lives, but no, it’s actually Tamaki that stood out more in the beginning and so did Nejire.

It was actually so heart-warming for me to see Nejire talk to Tamaki first and be interested in his quirk. Mirio looks so adorable as he stands in the back, not rly sure what to do with himself, even if it’s also a little sad bc that was before they were the big three so he must have dealt with his own amount of self-doubts. Poor boy, but he’s not giving up!!

This is something very positive I find about bnha manga, the energy spent on showing characters back stories and interpersonal growth, even for villains and side characters. You don’t find that in every shonen manga and it’s a pleasant surprise (I’m talking abt beyond main cast-flashbacks here!).

And when Sir compliments him and tries to encourage him, he looked so happy and excited I honestly nearly cried.

So yeah, in my mind it’s still unlikely that Mirio will lose his quirk forever and never be abe to use it his whole life, but there is definitely something that happened to him that can’t return to the way it was before. The scene with Tamaki waking from his unconsciousness to worry about Mirio is kind of a proof to that. He worries about his friend, his gut feeling tells him that sth happened. And Miro himself was thinking about Tamaki and other people that are important to him.

About the last two panels, I honestly to god am very disappinted that for once, Mirio doesn’t get to end his angst chapter himself, but no Midoriya had to steal that spotlight from him. Because the oh so mighty protagonist appears, and saves his poor quirkless senpai from the hands of the villain and/or death. Like really. We really didn’t need that. What we wanted, at least after all that, was a Mirio that stood to the end, presevered, standing and not losing his hope, grasping Eri into his arms and carrying her to safetly (preferrably outside where he could be tended to too bc damn did you see those wounds...)

Alright those were my two hundred) coins, I am a salty Mirio fan who is curious about what turn his storyline will take.

#mirio togata #tamaki amajiki #nejire hadou #boku no hero academia #big three #bnha spoilers #spoiler #chapter 152 #admit speaks #meta: bnha #long post #big 3

[anavoliselenu]

claim me chapter 14

“I heard through the grapevine that you were working on something similar at C-Squared,” he says, referring to Carl’s company.

“I was,” I say, then decide to take the plunge and tell him the truth about what happened. It pisses me off, but it’s not as if I’m the one who did anything wrong. “I was on the team that pitched the C-Squared product to Justin.”

“Is that how you two met?”

“No,” I say. “We actually met years ago in Texas. We reconnected at one of Evelyn’s parties.” I don’t mention that Carl had sent me into the party with the specific goal of attracting the attention of Justin Stark. That had been my first clue that Carl was an asshole. And many more clues followed in quick succession. “At any rate, the pitch went great, but Justin declined to invest because he knew about this Israeli product, though he didn’t say his reason at the time. By then, he and I had gone out.” Once again, my cheeks heat, because “gone out” doesn’t even begin to describe the things I had done with Justin.

Bruce, thankfully, doesn’t appear to notice my blush. “And Carl blamed you.”

“And fired me,” I say with a thin smile. “He’s not high up on my favorite people list.”

“To be honest, Carl Rosenfeld isn’t high on anyone’s favorite people list.”

I smile, immediately more at ease.

A moment later, Cindy steps into my office with an envelope from a local messenger company. There is no address. I, of course, am certain it’s from Justin. Considering the way Cindy hovers by my desk, she must think the same thing, and she’s curious about what the world’s sexiest billionaire sends to his girlfriend.

I’m curious, too. But since this is Justin we’re talking about, I’m not opening it with Bruce and Cindy standing there. I set it firmly on the corner of my desk right next to where I have put the framed picture of Justin and me. “Insurance paperwork,” I say nonchalantly, before turning back to Bruce and rattling off the first relevant thing I can think of about the Suncoast meeting last week.

Finally they are both out of my office, leaving me to, supposedly, settle in to work. I immediately reach for the envelope.

I open it, peek inside, and find my own pink scarf.

Okay …

Then again, at least now I have an excuse to call him. Not that I actually need an excuse.

Unfortunately, I only get his voice mail. “Hey,” I say. “It’s me. Thanks so much for the scarf. It suits me perfectly. How on earth did you know? I had a great time yesterday,” I add, then hesitate a moment before continuing. “And I thought you might want to know—I’m wearing a denim skirt, a purple T-shirt under a denim jacket, and absolutely nothing else.”

I’m grinning when I end the call, and it takes some doing to focus on the specs that I pull up on the laptop I’ve been issued by Innovative. After a while, though, I get into a groove, and it’s not until one of the guys on my team pokes his head in my door that I realize I’ve been engrossed for hours.

“I’m going down to grab a sandwich,” he says. “Want anything?”

“Alex, right?”

He nods.

“Mind if I tag along?”

“Oh. Well, sure. Okay. Yeah. I mean, I’m just gonna get something downstairs and bring it back.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” I grab my purse and follow him to the elevator. He’s tall and so skinny that I’m guessing I have at least ten pounds on him. His hair is cut short, almost into a military buzz, and he’s wearing a T-shirt announcing that Pluto is still a planet. On that, I agree wholeheartedly, and I tell him so.

It is as if I have opened the conversational floodgates. By the time we reach the lobby, I know everything about him except his Social Security number and have been invited to join his World of Warcraft guild anytime.

“So you’re dating Justin Stark,” he adds, as we cross the lobby to the small cafeteria. “That’s cool.”

“I think so,” I say politely, but I can’t help but cringe a little. I am starting to realize that by being Justin’s girlfriend I have taken on more than just Justin. I have parked myself under a microscope. For someone who has lived most of her life behind a mask of polite indifference, it is not the most comfortable place to be.

“Yeah, so the sandwiches here are pretty good,” Alex says, and I am grateful for the change of subject. “The pizza kind of sucks, though.”

“Salads?”

“Beats me,” he says. “I don’t do rabbit food. Meet you back here?”

I nod, then head toward the rabbit food area. I’m waiting for the server to put together a Cobb salad for me when a familiar-looking Asian woman steps into line behind me. I’m trying to place where I’ve seen her before when she points at me and says, “Innovative, right? You’re the new girl.”

“Selena Fairchild,” I confirm. “I’m sorry, I’ve been introduced to about a million people, at least it feels that way. I don’t remember your name.”

“No, no, we haven’t met. I work in the building. Lisa Reynolds. I’m a business consultant, and I’ve known Bruce for years.”

I suddenly remember where I’ve seen her. “You were in the lobby on Friday,” I say. “At one of the tables.”

“I usually am at least once a day. I can’t live without coffee, and I like to get out of the office. Here,” she adds, then digs in her purse for a business card. “If you ever want to sneak downstairs for a latte, give me a shout.”

“Thanks,” I say, genuinely pleased. I haven’t met that many people since I moved to Los Angeles, and I’m psyched to have a potential friend in the building.

I promise Lisa I’ll give her a call this week, then head upstairs with Alex. I want to get back to work, but I also know I should get to know my team. I suggest that we eat in the break room, but I have to confess that I am relieved when he tells me that he’s going to eat at his desk so that he can play WoW.

I’ve finished the salad and am deep into an analysis of some troublesome code when Justin calls. “Hey,” I say. “Did you see that article in Tech World?”

“Talking shop, Ms. Fairchild?”

I laugh. “What else should I talk about? The scarf you sent me? Your skill at picking out gifts has become a little rusty, but I guess there is some logic. If I already own it, I probably already like it.”

“You make a good point,” he says. “I’ll keep that in mind for future gifts, too. At the moment, though, I was hoping to talk about the very interesting piece of correspondence I received this morning.”

For a moment, I have no idea what he could be talking about. Then I remember the drive in the Bentley. Oh my.

“Are you in an office or a cubicle?” he asks.

“An office,” I say. I swallow, recalling all the things I wrote in that letter.

“In that case, my dear Ms. Fairchild, I think you should close your door. For that matter, I think you should lock it.”

“Justin, I’m at work,” I protest, but I do as he says.

“What a coincidence. So am I. Imagine my surprise as I’m reviewing my morning mail. Requests to speak at business conferences. Investment opportunities. Real estate proposals. All intriguing opportunities, but none so enticing as what I find when I open a simple letter sent on my very own stationery.”

“Justin …”

“You have a way with words, Ms. Fairchild. I was quite relieved that my assistant was at her desk when I read your letter. I don’t know that I would have been able to hide my erection. You really are quite a little minx.”

My brows lift. “A minx?”

“I can still remember the sound of your voice,” he quotes, “so smooth I almost came just from the sound of it. And the cool leather against the hot skin of my ass. Even then, I wanted your hands on me, your cock inside me. I barely knew you, and yet I wanted to submit to you utterly.” He says, “Yes, I think minx is a very accurate description.”

“Oh.” Hearing my own words read back to me, I have to silently agree. “I was inspired.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. When I ran across the scarf in the apartment this morning it reminded me of you, and after I got your letter, I thought that I should return it right away. You see, we didn’t really let that scarf live up to its potential.”

“We didn’t?” My mouth is dry.

“No,” he says, softly. “But I intend to make up for that. There are a lot of things one can do with a scarf. A lot of things one can do with fringe. The delicate brush over your erect nipple. A teasing stroke over your hot cunt. I promise you that we’ll fully explore all of the various possibilities.”

“Um.” I swallow.

“Wear it today and think about what I’ll do with it tonight.”

“Tonight?” I ask, as I drape the scarf around my neck.

Justin laughs. “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says. “I’ll have you naked by eight.”

I float through the rest of the afternoon, though I do manage to partition off my Justin thoughts so that I manage to accomplish some work. My head is down as I step off the elevator at the end of the day. I’m reading a text from Jamie detailing exactly how amazing Raine is, so I don’t notice Carl until he steps right in front of me.

“Selena.”

I freeze, momentarily caught off guard. Then I regain my senses and start walking again. “We don’t have anything to say to each other.”

“Wait,” he calls. “Please.”

Maybe it’s the “please,” but I pause just before the exit. I don’t turn around, but I hear him hurrying up behind me. “Two minutes,” I say, then step out the door and wait under the building awning.

He slides in with the exiting crowd and joins me outside. I don’t say anything. I just stand there, my face blank, my arms crossed over my chest.

He has a paper tucked under his arm, and he holds it out to me as if it’s an apology. I don’t take it, but I glance down and see that it is the same issue of Tech World that Bruce brought into my office earlier. I meet Carl’s eyes, and remain silent.

“Dammit, Selena, I didn’t know there was any other company in that market.”

“What is it you want, Carl?” My voice is icy.

“I just—well, I may have acted rashly.”

Ya think? I want to shout the words and slap his face. With effort, I remain quietly stoic.

“It’s just that, I thought you were fucking Stark.”

I am on the verge of boiling now, and I want nothing more than to get away from this toxic little man. But I force myself to conjure a thin smile as I lift my chin just slightly. “I am.”

Carl actually looks embarrassed. “Right, right. I mean, yeah, I’ve seen the pictures of you two and all that. It’s just that, well, I thought you had a fight. Or that maybe Stark thought that you and I had a thing going.”

“I promise you he thinks much more highly of me than that.”

“Dammit, Selena, I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Is that what this is about?” I’m genuinely surprised.

“I fucked up, okay? I was stupid and I blew the whole thing out of proportion.” He runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end and giving him an even more harried appearance. “I acted rashly, and I’m sorry.”

I cock my head, trying to hear the part that he’s not saying. “We’re talking about more than firing me, aren’t we?” My skin prickles with worry. “What did you do, Carl?”

“Oh, hell. Other shit. You know.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “All you said was that you were going to fuck Justin over. So what did you do?” My left hand is closed into a tight fist, my nails biting into my palm. It is only through a supreme force of will that I am remaining calm. “Dammit, Carl. What other shit are you talking about?”

He stays silent, his expression unreadable.

“For Christ’s sake, Carl, why did you come here in the first place?”

He sucks in a gulp of air. “You know how Stark paid Padgett off, right? And now Padgett has to keep his mouth shut.”

“How do you know that?” Eric Padgett was threatening to go public with his theory that Justin had something to do with his sister’s death, and Justin actually wrote a check to shut the worm up. It’s not something I like to think about. More than that, the terms of the settlement were supposed to be confidential.

“I know a lot of things. Padgett did a lot of talking before he got Stark’s money. And most of his talking was to other people with an ax to grind against Stark. Trust me when I say that I realized pretty fast that Padgett was the least of Stark’s worries. There are a lot of people who want to see the shit fly.”

“You included,” I snap.

“Not me. Not anymore. That’s why I’m here. I get it. I got the whole thing wrong and I screwed Justin and I screwed you. I’m saying I’m not the only one.”

“Who, then? And what shit?”

He shakes his head. “Just tell Stark that he may not see this one coming.” He makes a rough noise in his throat. “I was blown away when I learned who Padgett had lined up with an ax to grind against your boyfriend.”

I stand very still. He’s scaring me more than he probably knows. “You won’t tell me who?”

“I’ve said everything I’m going to. I’ve played my part, and now I’m getting out of this mess. Whatever happens isn’t coming from me, I can promise you that.”

“Then why did you come here at all?”

“Because telling you is like telling Stark. It’s a small world, and I burned a bridge I shouldn’t have.”

“And you think this is going to fix it?”

“No, but I think it’s a start.” He meets my eyes. “Tell Stark to watch his back.”

“I’ll tell him,” I say, proud of myself for keeping my voice from shaking. “But he always does.”

18

I am actually wishing for the paparazzi as I walk toward my car. At least then I could be pissed off at them instead of worried for Justin.

The second I get in my car, I reach into my glove compartment for my phone charger so that I can call Justin, but the damn thing isn’t there. I forgot to put one in my briefcase, so my phone hasn’t charged at all today, and it’s almost dead. I dial anyway, figuring I can talk fast, and am relieved when Justin picks up immediately.

“I ran into Carl,” I say without preamble.

“Ran into him?” His voice is low and measured and very, very ominous.

“As in he came to Innovative and waited for me in the lobby.”

“Are you okay? What did he do?”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, because I can hear both the worry and the temper. “He wanted me to tell you to watch your back.”

“Did he? Tell me everything he said, exactly how he said it.”

I comply, relating the conversation in as much detail as I can manage.

“And he wouldn’t tell you any more?”

“No,” I say. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

I hold my breath, wondering if Justin will cite the thing going on in Germany. Or the tennis center. Or even the Eric Padgett settlement. There are so many things that this could be about, and though I haven’t got a clue, I am certain that Justin does.

But when he speaks, he tells me nothing. “I think this is Carl’s way of blowing smoke.”

“Why would he do that?” I ask.

“You said he wants to rebuild burned bridges. What better way to do that than to warn me about some upcoming danger?”

“Because there’s always some sort of danger for a man like you,” I say, picking up the direction of his thoughts.

“An angry competitor. A fired employee. A stolen patent. And then Carl comes along and tells me to be on guard, and when I next notice some nefarious deed, I will think, oh, isn’t it lucky that Carl warned me. I guess the little prick isn’t so bad after all.”

I laugh, because Carl is a little prick and nothing is going to change that. But the laughter doesn’t erase my worry. “So you’re really not worried?”

“I make it a point not to worry,” Justin says. “There’s no profit in it.”

“Justin—”

“Stop,” he says gently.

“Stop what?”

“Stop worrying about me. You’re wasting precious energy.”

“What else am I going to do with it?” I ask airily. “It’s not as if you’re here beside me.”

He laughs. “Good girl,” he says. “Where are you?”

“The parking lot. I’m going to hit the grocery store and go home.”

“Good. Can you do me a favor and pick up some—”

And that is when my phone decides to die. I curse it, but at least I got to talk to him about Carl.

Even though Justin isn’t troubled, I am, and it stays on my mind as I poke through Ralph’s, grabbing coffee and ice cream and other staples of living. I’m sure I’m forgetting something, but as my list is on my dead phone, I’ll just have to wing it.

I end up with two plastic bags full of various essentials, and after I park my car at the condo, I leave the parking area and follow the sidewalk around to the front stairs. There’s a crowd gathered there, and it takes me a second to realize that they are waiting for me.

Shit.

I may have been in the mood to confront them earlier, but that has passed. All I want now is to get inside, eat ice cream, and wait for Justin.

I square my shoulders, make sure every trace of emotion is wiped off my face, and soldier on.

Immediately, they swarm me.

“Selena! Selena, look over here!”

“Was the portrait completely nude?”

“Does it have the usual Blaine elements like bondage?”

I’m breathing hard, and my body feels suddenly cold and clammy. I don’t understand where these questions are coming from, and I’m afraid—so very afraid—to think too hard about it.

“Why did you do it, Selena? Was it for the money or the thrill?”

“Selena! Can you confirm that you accepted a million dollars from Justin Stark to pose nude for an erotic painting?”

I freeze, too horrified to take another step, as camera flashes burst around me. I feel sick, and I am certain that any moment now I’m going to throw up.

“Have you ever posed nude before?”

“Is the painting a reflection of your sex life with Justin Stark?”

“Why did you agree to be tied up?”

They’re all around me, circling me, and I reach out for Justin’s hand, but of course he’s not there. My knees feel weak, and I have to force myself to stay upright. I will not fall, I will not react, I will not give them the satisfaction of knowing they’ve gotten to me.

But they have. And as variations of the same questions are thrown at me—as I try to get to the stairs but can barely move even an inch—I know that I’m going to scream soon, just for the shock of it. Just so I can get away.

A loud squeal cuts above the din, and for a moment I think that I have screamed, because suddenly the crowd is parting, and I look up and gasp.

Justin. He’s running toward me from the street, his black Ferrari left idling in the road. And if I have ever been uncertain about Justin’s capacity for murder, I no longer am. I see it in his eyes. In the line of his jaw. In the tenseness that fills every muscle of his body. Right then, in that moment, he would kill to protect me.

He reaches out and grabs my arm, and I’m so relieved he’s here I almost cry. He pulls me roughly to him, and hooks his arm around my shoulder, holding me close as he shoves us through the crowd toward the car.

He tosses the groceries onto the floorboard, then gets me settled in the passenger seat. As he straps me in I see something break inside him. “Baby,” he says, and though the word is barely loud enough for my ears, I hear the apology and the bone-deep regret.

“Please,” I whisper. “Let’s get out of here.”

He’s in the car and accelerating toward Ventura Boulevard before my mind even catches up. His right hand is on the stick, but once we’re on the freeway, he reaches for me. “I’m so sorry. The painting. The money. I never thought—”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend. “Later. Right now, I want to pretend that it didn’t happen.”

The look he gives me is heartbreakingly sad. For a moment, we are silent. But the stillness is broken by Justin’s single hard smack of his hand against the steering wheel.

“Who did this?” he asks. “Who the fuck leaked this?”

I shake my head. It still feels like cotton. I realize from somewhere outside of myself that I am not coping well.

I slide my right hand down so that it is between my body and the door, and then I clench it tight into a fist, letting my manicured nails dig deep as I squeeze and squeeze.

I bite my tongue, drawing blood.

And I wish—oh, how I wish—that I still had that tiny knife I used to keep on my keychain.

“Look at me,” Justin snaps.

I comply. I even smile. I’m starting to get some control back.

I take a deep breath, relieved that I’m functioning. But oh god, oh god, this isn’t going to stop. It’s out there, and they’re going to keep coming, and it isn’t going to stop.

“Carl,” I whisper. “This is what he was warning me about.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

“Who then?”

“Does Ollie know about the painting?”

“No!” The word comes fast and hard, but then I immediately falter. Could he have found out somehow? “No,” I say again. “And even if he did, he’d keep quiet. I’m not the one he wants to hurt.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Justin says darkly.

I swallow, because Justin has to be wrong. Even if he’s right about Ollie being in love with me, surely Ollie wouldn’t do this just to get back at me for being with Justin. Would he?

I close my eyes because I can’t stand to think about it. “Who doesn’t matter,” I say, tightening my fist again. “It’s out there.”

Justin doesn’t answer, and we drive toward downtown in silence, Justin’s anger so thick it fills the car.

“How did you know?” I finally ask.

“Jamie. She’s home. Apparently she had to push through them, too, and they were asking her about the painting. She pretended not to have a clue, then called you.”

“My phone’s dead,” I say numbly.

“I know. She called me when she couldn’t reach you, and I tried you, too. When I couldn’t get you on the phone to tell you to stay away—”

“You came to rescue me yourself.”

“Fortunately I was in Beverly Hills and you made a stop before going home.”

“Thank you,” I say.

He turns just long enough to glance at me, and his smile is sad. “I will always protect you,” he says. “But this—”

He cuts himself off sharply and I see his knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. I understand. He can’t protect me from this, and he hates that.

Frankly, I’m not crazy about it, either.

Justin stays quiet until we enter the apartment. But the moment we do, he lashes out. In one fluid motion he grabs and hurls the ornamental vase that holds the floral arrangement that is the focal point of the foyer.

“Goddammit!” he shouts, the crescendo of his voice underscored by the tinkle of shattering glass hitting the floor and the splash as water flies everywhere.

I do nothing but stand there. I know how he feels. I want to lash out and break something, too.

No, that’s not true. I don’t want to lash out, but I desperately wish that I did. I wish that I could grab a glass trinket and throw it hard against the floor and take comfort in the fact that it is my hands and my power that have caused it to shatter.

But that is not what will satisfy me. Those shards of glass would not be an end for me, but a means to an end. And I would not be comforted until the glass is cutting a line in my flesh, and I have latched on so tight to the pain that it erases all the other horrors around me. Those horrible camera flashes. The jeers from the reporters. The embarrassment, the humiliation, and the knowledge that no matter what, for the rest of my life, this is never going to go away.

I shiver, feeling so very fragile, and I imagine the weight of a knife in my hand.

No.

With effort, I force myself not to cross the room and pick up a piece of the broken vase. Instead, I look at Justin, who stands with clenched fists and real anguish on his face. “It will be okay,” I say, because that is the kind of platitude that people say, even if they don’t really believe it.

“Screw okay,” he snaps. This is the temper that was so famous in his tennis days, and that has fueled his reputation for being dangerous. A sharp brittle breaking point that got him in too many fights and left too many scars, including the dark eye that is now looking at me with a bitter, resolute anger.

“None of this should be happening,” he says. “I should be able to protect you. I should be able to keep my bastard of a father out of my life and out of my car. I don’t want him or his shit near me, and I sure as hell don’t want it near you. And as for the rest of it all over the goddamn globe—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment I think that it is out of his system.

It isn’t. “I should be able to keep your secrets as well as my own. But then again,” he adds with a mirthless laugh, “that’s crashing down, too. Goddammit.” He lashes out so fast and hard that he puts his fist through the drywall.

I gape. “Well,” I say. “That’s going to need more than a broom and a dustpan.”

He stares at me for a moment, and then his shoulders begin to shake. It takes a moment for me to realize he’s laughing. Not because it is funny, but because he is overwhelmed.

I want to hold him; I want to help him. But I can’t even help myself.

I draw in a trembling breath, and realize that my hand is curled around the end of the pink scarf that still hangs around my neck.

Slowly, I tug the end of the scarf until I have pulled it free. I wrap one end tightly around my wrist, then hand the other end to Justin. He takes it, though I see the question in his eyes.

“Tie me up,” I whisper. “Spank me. Tell me exactly what you want me to do. Do whatever you want. You want to lash out? Lash out against me.”

“Selena—”

“Please, Justin. You can’t control the world? So what? Control me.” I meet his eyes. “Please,” I say, and I hear the tremor in my voice. “Please,” I whisper. “I need it, too.”

“Oh, Selena.” He cocks his head, looking inside me to where all my secrets lie. “Need?” he clarifies. “Or want?”

I lick my lips, as if that will make the words come easier. “You told me once that if I ever needed the pain that I should come to you. I’ve broken that promise twice.” I point to my hair, and then the tip of my finger. “So yes, Justin. I need it. I need you if I’m going to get through this. And I think you need me, too.”

For a moment, he says nothing. Then he runs the scarf through his fingers. “I believe I told you on the phone that I had plans for this.”

“Yes,” I say.

He stands still, and looks me up and down. His gaze starts at my feet and travels oh so slowly up my body. He does not touch me, but still my body burns merely from the passing of his glance. I let myself go, surrendering to his power over me. Over my body. I want this. I want Justin and his strength. I want his touch.

Mostly I want him to make the rest of the world go away.

He continues his heated inspection, his face as dark and hungry as a wolf, and just as dangerous. He will consume me, and so help me, I want to be consumed. I want to disappear—I want to go somewhere that only Justin can find me.

My legs are weak, my sex throbbing in anticipation. Tiny drops of sweat form between my breasts, and my nipples strain against my T-shirt.

I keep my eyes on his, and my mouth goes dry, my pulse kicking up its tempo. He is no longer the Justin who jokes and teases, who holds and soothes me. This is not a man who will reveal his secrets to me or to anyone, and he is certainly not a man who will explode outward into a fiery rage.

No, the man standing before me is grace and control personified. There is power in his touch, power in the slightest look. He is a hard man who commands a billion-dollar enterprise, and right now I am simply one more thing that he owns.

I bite my lower lip. I am not disturbed by the thought. On the contrary, my body is tingling with awareness. To be owned by Justin Stark is heady stuff.

“Take off your clothes.”

I comply, shedding my jacket, then pulling the T-shirt over my head. Because we’re playing the game again, I am not wearing a bra, and when he sees that, the tiniest of smiles touches his mouth. I unzip the skirt next and let it fall around my feet. It is as if the hundreds of times he has seen me naked are forgotten. I feel shy and awkward. But when I see the way his eyes take me in, I feel beautiful.

“Spread your legs,” he says, and when I do, he goes down on his knees. He holds my hips, then presses a soft kiss just above my navel, and that simple touch sends shivers running through me. My body is on fire, alight with anticipation. I reach down to bury my fingers in his hair.

“No,” he murmurs. “Cup your breasts. There you go, baby,” he says when I comply. “Stroke your nipples. Are they hard?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says. “I want them harder. I want them so tight that just brushing a fingertip across your nipple shoots fire all the way down to your cunt. What do you say?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

He smiles up at me, a smile of praise and promise, and then he turns back to my bare abdomen. His lips brush over me, lower and lower until he is tracing the neatly trimmed line of my pubic hair. And then lower still until his tongue laves my clitoris and I have no choice but to break Justin’s rules and grab hard to his shoulder, because if I do not, I will certainly topple over.

His tongue is merciless. Teasing me, fucking me, hard and demanding until I explode, my body a storm of sensation.

He is kind enough to keep me from falling, urging me down to my knees in front of him. “You taste amazing,” he says, then kisses me as if to prove the point. The kiss is deep, but all too short.

“I’m going to fuck you, Selena,” he says. “Right here, right now. Hard and fast, until pleasure rips through you like a cyclone. And then we’ll start again, slow and easy, letting it build and grow like a tiny seedling into a massive tree. Do you know how long that takes, Selena? Can you imagine a pleasure that lasts for an eternity?”

My mouth is dry, but I manage an answer. “With you, yes.”

He chuckles. “Good answer. Now unfasten my jeans.”

“Yes, sir.”

I’m so turned on that my fingers actually fumble with the button fly of his jeans, but I manage, then spread the denim and stroke my fingertips over his cock, still trapped behind the cotton of his briefs.

I hear Justin suck in air, and I relish the knowledge that as much power as he has over me, I have the same over him.

“Good girl,” he says. “Now take it out and turn around. On your knees, Selena.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, but I have another plan. I slide my hand into his jeans and over the bulge of his briefs until I find his fly. He is thick and hard and as soon as I shift him, his cock bursts out as if desperate to play, too. I know I’m supposed to turn around—and I know that I’ll undoubtedly be punished, but I can’t resist the temptation.

I lean forward and draw my tongue up the velvety length of his cock. He tastes salty and male and delicious, and when I hear him groan and say my name, my body seems to open up. I close my lips over the bulbous head, tease him with my tongue. Slowly, I take more of him into my mouth, then pull back, letting my teeth graze ever so lightly over him.

I rest my hands on his hips, and I can feel his body start to shudder. I raise up higher on my knees for a better angle. I want to take more of him; I want to make him come.

@.}