#but uh yeah your oc! HAND EM OVER

[scramble-crossing]

your oc is so fucking cool! divorced to minaman i'm guessing? i LOVE the noise form, that'sso clever! the idea of having a tiny lizzer that he has to hide in a big illusion, that's such a clever + fun idea. also, gecko is a cute asf noise form. the fighting using sigils is SO cool btw, i've done a lot with the idea of sigils myself but the whole concept of tearing out pages to fight is awesome. i love her flaws a lot too btw, most people end up not having ocs with enough flaws

also based as fuck being a union leader. the R.E.A.P.E.R. acronym made me laugh out loud, but man, unions are so underrated. good for them!

i would read stuff about him. also her design is cute! i love the implication that they were strangled to death (?) or are those just tattoos/? i wish that the twewy designs had implication sof how they died somehwere on them

do you actually want a lore dump about my oc? i will gladly give it if you want it, just meant that i don't want to sit here going "and now i will infodump about a topic that isn't actually wanted" (no harm if you don't want to btw) otherwise i will send another ask with the oc info! not gonna lie i don't do much with my ocs but i basically turned several canonical characters into ocs with how much i expanded on them lol. but i do have an oc that i can tell you about :)! i just spend more time expanding on the canon characters LOL

Aw jeez ;-; you're too kind!!

Um. Yeah. Minaman divorce 😔 Long story short, they're childhood friends who had a difficult falling out at the end of high school and reunited in the Reaper's Game. Sho is just as vicious and self-centered as he is in canon, and Fable's swept along in his undertow, blaming himself for Sho's actions and feeling a sense of responsibility, as his oldest friend, to put a stop to him. Sho takes this "betrayal" bitterly. He doesn't understand why Fable can't trust him to make things right again, once he's Composer, and everything that's wrong, he can fix. He just needs her to stay out of his way. He will make her if he has to.

I totally agree with you that'd it be cool if twewy designs implied how some characters died! But actually, Fable received their neck scars after they died :)))

Anyways I'm really glad you like the Noise form and the sigil fighting!! The Noise form is kinda close to Megumi's but I'm attached to itty bitty lizard...everyone else got these cool big cat forms and even Higashizawa's sheep Noise form is intimidating, then you've got this little gecko thing that can fit in the palm of your hand. Made to be held gently. Like hotdog.

And yeah I don't think anyone in the Reaper's Game is a very uh. Functioning individual (except maybe Kariya idk) so it's fun to come up with a character's fatal flaws! Fable is a self-depricating doormat who blames themself for things far beyond their control and clings to strict rules of reason to make sense of an unreasonable world and it pairs really well (or really poorly depending on how you see it) with Mina's unpredictable, domineering personally, especially in NEO once they've grown a bit and Mina has to deal with someone who, even in their best of days, really enabled him and let him get away with anything finally put their foot down and tell him to stop being such an insufferable jackass. Wrangling Support Reapers for three years will do that to a person. They're a funny crowd.

Anyways (again) I would totally love to hear about your oc! I haven't seen too many twewy ocs before and I think it's a series that's ripe for making original characters, so I'm really curious to see the kinds of things that other people have come up with :]

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

He’s mine || Billy the kid x oc!reader

Summary: Mrs Riley’s affection for Billy does not go unnoticed by you, or anyone for that matter. There was hardly competition because unlike her, you weren’t married and sworn to another man, but Mrs. Riley just needed a little push over the edge and she would be done for. What you didn't expect however, was that you would be there at the scene of her downfall.

Warnings: slightly dark oc! mention of blood, shooting, oc sorta manipulates Billy, possessiveness, guilt trapping, violence, mention of dead body

Wc: 4,712 this is a loooong one, longest one ive ever written lol.

A/n: Sofía does not back down when it comes to getting what she wants is all I gotta say 😃 also it's sorta long because I'm basically retelling some of the scenes from the btk episode but with sofia in it so..

Divider by @pommecita

In Mr. Murphy's sprawling house, the air buzzed with animated conversations, and the linger familiar scent of alcohol and smoke added to the vibrant atmosphere. You and Billy navigated the lively gathering, your hand on Billy's arm.

"There he is," A voice murmurs softy, pulling your attention away from Billy. "Billy! Come here." John Riley, Murphy's right hand man, beckoned him over for a chat. You could sense the hesitation within Billy but Mr. Riley persists. "I would like to introduce you to my wife," He rests his hand on the woman's waist. She looked no more than 3 years older than you, her hair elegantly arranged in a bun as she showcases her pearly white smile.

"Honey, this is the fella I was telling you about, this is Billy the Kid," Because of how tall Billy was compared to majority of the people here, Both Mr. and Mrs. Riley had to gaze up at him. "Billy belongs to The House now. This is Irene," John gestures to his wife.

Watching the entire ordeal by his side, you saw a glint of desire in Irene's eyes. "Howdy," Billy tips his hat nonchalantly, sporting a bored expression as Irene extends her hand out for a shake. Your gaze drifts around the room, noticing eyes already fixed on you as your hands delicately squeeze Billy's arm.

"So, you're a cowboy, are you?" She grins broadly, the smile stretching from ear to ear, her hand lingering on Billy's just a beat longer than deemed necessary for a married woman with high status like her. "Oh, he's an outlaw, baby," Mr. Riley corrects his wife with a sly smile. Leaning in, he murmurs into her ear, "This man's wanted for murder."

Irene subtly inches closer to Billy, her voice gentle and soft, "Well, it sure is nice to meet such a handsome outlaw." Her eyes carefully trace his features as Billy, feeing a tad bit awkward, manages a brief, but tentative smile, then glances towards Mr. Riley. "Billy," He bids him goodbye, tension already simmering, and he draws Irene along with him, her gaze remaining fixed on him.

"I don't like her," You assert boldly as Billy smiles, he loved it when you were up front with him. He turns to face you, his hand gently on your waist while the other finds its place at the base of your neck. "Me neither, sweetheart. She looks like trouble, and I don't want that," He reassures you, affirming his unwavering loyalty.

"Hey Billy," James Dolan interrupts his conversation with Jesse. "Uh, we've, uh, set up a little fun thing for you to do," he says, fixing an intense gaze on Billy. You set your glass down, and Jesse glances at you. "See, everyone here, they want to see what you can do with a gun, hmm?"

At the mere mention of guns, Billy's gaze shifts to the floor, and he leans back on the table behind him. "They've all heard the stories." Jesse uncomfortable shifts as you observe Dolan, "Murphy thinks it would be a great idea for you to give 'em all a little- you know- demonstration." He playfully slaps Billy's chest.

"Yeah? No." Billy says flatly, turning to leave before James firmly grips his arm "Okay, okay, Billy." He shakes head, his hands resting on his hips. You narrow your eyes at him, not liking him already. "I see you don't understand how the wicks. We're paying you a whole lot of money, so if we ask you to do something small for us in return," Billy's head drops, "we expect you to do it."

"Now, come this way," He gestures, anticipating Billy's compliance. Instead, Billy stands his ground, "I don't feel like doing that," You glance between Billy and James who kisses his teeth and beckons for a man named Jimmy.

Jesse turns around to face the table, pouring himself a glass of alcohol before extending the offer to you. A subtle shake of your head declines the offer, but Billy eagerly accepts, tossing his head back with a satisfied expression. James whispers into another man's ear, Jimmy you assume as he then continues to tell Billy how he should do this little, to show everyone how good he was.

"You can do that for us, yes?" Jimmy holds Billy's shoulder, his gaze on the floor once again. "And if you agree there, Billy, we got you a little gift, hmm?" James adds as he opens a wooden box revealing a gleaming double action revolver.

You weren't an expert on firearms but the subtle widening of Jesse's eyes before he averts his gaze signifies the weapon's quality "It's brand new. Very expensive. We think you're gonna like it," Jimmy adds as he and James stare at Billy.

Billy's gaze shifts from the gun to the two men standing before him. A momentary hush envelops the room before his eyes meet yours and Jesse's. A sigh escapes him as he sets his glass down.

Billy picks up the gun, inspecting it, before toying with it, eliciting gasps from those around the room. He then tucks it in his gun belt, pouring himself a reasonable amount of whiskey and downing it in one determined gulp. You approach Billy, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm as he wipes the corner of his lips.

"You sure you wanna do this?" You gently ask him, already knowing his reluctance. "What choice do I have, Sof?" He mutters before he's urged to move on.

"Ladies and gentleman, our friend Billy here's gonna demonstrate his gifts as a gunslinger and the reason why we hired him to protect all of our interest. Yeah?" Major Murphy's voice resonates with authority as Billy loads the gun barrel.

You stand alongside Jesse, a tantalizing sip of alcohol hovering at the edge of your lips as you observe the unfolding spectacle. Just a few feet away, Irene grips her satchel, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Come on, Billy!" Murphy exclaims, his applause echoed by the enthusiastic claps of those surrounding you.

Billy wipes his mouth, clearing his throat before fixing his gaze on the targets ahead. The initial shots are a breeze, a mere warm-up for someone of Billy's caliber. In a lightning-fast span of three seconds, all five glass bottles shatter, eliciting an eruption of applause from the captivated crowd.

You smile to yourself, you knew Billy was very skilled, this ordeal demonstrating it even further. He returns to the table where a range of guns were displayed. There's a palpable tension—anger, annoyance, perhaps both—etched across his features.

The stress of the last couple of days working for Murphy, threatening people out of their own homes, has left its mark on him. Night after night, Billy sought solace in you, pouring out his emotions as you offered him nothing but a listening ear and a comforting embrace.

In a swift motion, he removes his tie, choosing another revolver with a sense of purpose. The murmuring crowd hushes as Billy cocks the firearm, once again targeting cans on the ground—now more challenging to spot and precisely aim at, but not for Billy.

With each bullet making contact with the tin, a collective flinch ripples through the crowd, including Mrs. Riley. Unfazed, Billy seamlessly transitions to a rifle. He fires a few shots at a measured pace before seamlessly shifting into a rapid sequence of shooting, cocking, and repeating.

The tension in the crowd palpably escalated as Billy's anger became increasingly evident. The wooden backdrop itself caught fire amid his repeated shots, casting a fearful hush over the onlookers, the only audible sound being the ominous crackling of the flames.

You maintained a composed stance, your gaze unwaveringly fixed on Billy. He, too, remained motionless, likely processing the chaotic scene unfolding. A swift glance at Mrs. Riley revealed her frightened demeanor. Billy wiped his mouth, setting the rifle down, and approached you. Without a word, he took your hand, pulling you along as your eyes briefly connected with Irene, navigating through the subdued crowd.

"You okay, Billy?" You gently ask him knowing he was still fired up from before. He was sat on the bed, arms resting on his thighs with his legs open. You slot yourself in between them as your hands run through his hair, a tender attempt to soothe him.

He tilts his head back, his hands roaming around your back and down your . "You still seem stressed," You frown as he stares at you quietly, though the glint of mischief was still evident in his eyes. "I can fix that," You whisper against his lips before he kisses you aggressively, hungry, starving for more.

~

The saloon buzzed with the clinking of glasses and the shuffling of cards as Mrs. Riley sauntered in. Her eyes, keen with mischief, spotted Billy at the table, surrounded by others as he was deeply engrossed in the poker game, his attention fixed on the cards in his hands.

"Hey there Irene. Come to join in?" Sam says as Mrs. Riley smiles, "If you'll have me, Sam," As she approached, she ignored the way your hand rested on Billy's thigh as your eyes stay focused on the cards in his hands. Mrs. Riley couldn't help but cast a flirtatious glance his way, something that Billy doesn't catch on, but you do, and Charlie, who was seated on your other side.

"Good evening, gentleman," Her high pitched voice greets as you supress a subtle eye roll. True to their gentlemanly nature, they all reciprocated with polite greetings, Billy even taking his hat off as you remained silent. You silently threw daggers her way.

Your dislike towards the woman started from the second you caught her eyeing Billy when she sat beside her husband in the carriage. Even with Billy’s hands on your waist and the close proximity between the two of you that was more than platonic, it didn't seem to deter her away—drew her more in perhaps.

Undeterred, Mrs. Riley leaned in closer to Billy, her words tinged with flirtation. "My! It's Billy the Kid, isn't it?" She purred, a blatant expression of infatuation adorning her face, her smile captivating display aimed directly at him.

Billy's gaze finally shifts toward her for the first time since she stepped into the saloon. "Yes, ma'am," he responds politely, offering no more than a slight smile before his attention returns to the worn wooden table before him. You gently squeeze his thigh, and as his eyes meet yours, a silent understanding passes between you.

"Do not call me that," Irene interjects abruptbly. "It makes me feel old, and I am not old." She states, exhaling through her nose."I didn't mean to suggest you were," Billy quickly backs himself up.

Your gaze shifts to Charlie, and a subtle exchange of glances circulates the table. "I'm really so happy to see you, Billy," she utters, a faint smile playing on her lips, her voice lowering ever so slightly. The weight of her words hangs in the air, and Billy, in response, squirms uncomfortably in his seat.

You extend your hand gracefully above the space between you and Billy, a subtle bridge in the air. "Sofía Del Tobosco," you introduce yourself, your voice carrying the weight of confidence. Yet, she meets your greeting with a blank, unwavering stare, leaving the air between you tinged with an intriguing tension as the others on the table watch on.

"We haven't properly met, I'm Billy's-" "Aren't you Dulcinea's little sister?" With narrowed eyes, you retract your hand, an awkward silence settling over the table, "I'm good friends with her ya know," Mrs. Riley giggles, leaving you to decipher her intentions at the mention of your sister. A simple hum escapes your lips as you inhale sharply, shooting an annoyed look to Charlie, who quietly chuckles.

"Wanna start a new game?" Sam cuts through the silence. Irene gracefully declines the offer, "Oh, no. You go on. I'll watch," she smiles. "Good," you mutter under your breath, a quiet comment that only Billy and Charlie seem to catch.

Mrs. Riley gracefully raises a wine glass, "Here's to you, Billy," she toasts, her gaze unwavering as she lifts it to her lips. Billy's expression remains inscrutable as he watches. The corners of his lips hint at a subtle upward twitch before he speaks, "Well, we should get going."

You gladly agree with Billy as you get ready to leave, "Gentleman-" "Oh, no. Don't go," Irene cuts him off as Billy freezes, "Stay." Despite being on your feet, you cross your arms, fixing her with an irked expression. "Walk me home later?" She nervously proposes, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

Your lips part in astonishment at her words. There was no way she asking that from Billy when clearly, he has a girl by his side. Billy's eyes flicker towards you, a subtly nod indicating his loyalty. Mrs. Riley persisted, "Please, Billy?" Just as you open your mouth to respond, Sam beats you to it.

"I'll walk you home, Irene," Sam says, diffusing the tension in the air. The relief on Billy's face is palpable as you gently touch his bicep and he glances at you. He bids farewell to the table, and you follow suit, exiting the saloon with Billy. His hand extends behind him, finding yours as he pulls you along with a certain urgency, knowing what the rest of the night would entail.

~

Amidst the haze of smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol, Jesse and his gang sprawled across the room, resting a chaotic atmosphere. You were making small talk with the people around like the mannered young woman you were.

Your keen eyes wandered around the room before landing on Mrs. Riley, who was making her way to Billy. You narrow your eyes, “Has she learnt absolutely nothing?” Your words spat out with an unmistakable tone of annoyance. Charlie lets out a subdued chuckle, shaking his head as he swirled the glass of alcohol in his hand, a wry smile playing on his lips as he watches Billy and Irene.

"Hello there, Billy," Irene came up behind him, a huge grin plastered on her face. "Mrs. Riley," he politely greeted her, a trace of urgency in his tone, "I wanted to see you. I really—I want to talk to you. I need to." Her words were slurred. Sensing trouble, Billy discreetly scanned the surroundings, his eyes discreetly seeking you.

"Uh- maybe now is not a good time," He made a move once his gaze fixated on your silhouette. "Oh no, definitely now. I have something to say," Irene interjected, pulling Billy back with a subtle sigh escaping him. "Get me another drink, will ya?" Her request carried an undertone of desperation, a silent plea to retain his focus.

Billy surveyed her, noticing the telltale signs that she had indulged in one too many drinks. "Sure," he bobbed his head before moving to find a servant holding glasses full of alcohol. "Gracias,' Billy thanked the woman with a smile before he redirecting his attention back to Mrs. Riley.

She gracefully retrieved the glass from his hand, her fingers delicately lingering on his before she flashed a captivating grin, taking a sip. "What did you want to say?" Billy, with a subtle furrow of his eyebrows, gently steered her back to the purpose of their conversation.

Mrs. Riley gulped. "I want to tell you about my husband," she began, and Billy couldn't help but notice a subtle shimmer in her eyes, dulled by the influence of whiskey. "What about your husband?" Billy questioned, a hint of confusion coloring his expression, uncertain where the conversation was headed.

"I- I hate him," she confessed, punctuating her words with another gulp of whiskey. At the abrupt confession, Billy's gaze eagerly sought yours once again. "You can't even imagine," She shook her head, her voice trembling. "Maybe this isn't the place to talk about this," Billy pointed out as he nervously looked at the people around who could possibly be listening.

There was silence in the air as Billy's words manage to sink into Irene's head. "No," she utters softly, delicately placing her glass on a nearby table. "Light my cigarette, will ya?" She gazed up at Billy, who sighed but complies, retrieving a packet of matchsticks from his pocket and igniting the end of her cigarette.

From afar, you were silently raging inside as you watch the two interact. You knew Mrs. Riley's affection was more than friendly, oh it was more than that. "I feel like I'm going to be sick," You mutter with an eye roll, fishing out a cigarette from your purse.

You move the end of the joint to a nearby candle letting it ignite as you take a few deep drags, eyes glued on Billy and Irene. "Thank you," Irene said lowly, her eyes looking off to the side before she directs her gaze back at Billy. "You know, you're very good-looking, Billy,"

Billy wets his lips, casting his gaze downward, an air of discomfort lingering in the unusual tension between them. "Can we go somewhere? I like you," she murmured, drawing nearer with a drop in her voice.

Billy knew what she was trying to do and he wanted nothing of it. He locks eyes with you for a fleeting moment, your silhouette veiled in smoke, a clear sign of your annoyance. "I don't think that's a good idea," He firmly says as Irene's hopeful expression drops. "Please. Please, Billy," She pleaded. There was something uneasy about how she was begging him.

"I told you I hate him. I have to get away." Mrs. Riley persisted as Billy's eyes search hers. He ignored the unsettling feeling in his stomach, "No. I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley." She pursed her lips before she lightly shook her head, her eyes closing for a brief moment, an acknowledgement of his rejection.

"Never mind," She giggled softly to herself, "It's not your fault," Irene gave Billy a smile before it drops slowly as if something inside of her was sinking. The two of them stood there for a couple of seconds before Billy felt her lips on his.

"What is she doing-" You stub your cigarette on the table, ready to storm off in Billy and Irene's direction before Charlie subtly interjects, his arm forming a barrier in front of you. Your eyes were wide in shock after witnessing the unexpected kiss. "Did you see that? Tell me you saw that, Charlie," you exclaimed, shooting him a pleading look.

"Yes, yes I did. But causing a scene won't help, besides, I think someone else could do that," Charlie whispered in your ear, prompting you to give him a puzzled look as your nails dig into his arm.

Charlie cocks his head to where Mr. Riley was, a few feet away from the two, standing with a few other men. You smirk to yourself, imagining the havoc you would create when you redirect Mr. Riley's eyes to Billy and Irene kissing. Charlie removes his arm from in front of you as you straighten up.

Seizing the moment, you deliberately raised your voice, "Is that Mrs. Riley with Billy?" The words echoed through the room, catching the attention of those nearby.

Mrs. Riley's husband, mere feet away, overheard the commotion. Anger flashed in his eyes as he turned to witness the scene, realizing his wife's inappropriate proximity to Billy. Without a word, he stormed out, following Mrs. Riley into the night.

You push your purse into Charlie's chest, "Watch this for me, will ya?" You gave him no time to answer before you were already moving away from him. You made purposeful strides to follow Mr. and Mrs. Riley, leading you outside.

"Hey!" You hear John's voice yell loudly as you hastily conceal yourself around the corner. You peeped from the corner as your eyes widen; John had a firm grip on Irene who was whimpering. "You fucking, lousy fucking bitch." He seethed, his hold on his wife unwavering.

"What do you mean?" Irene fired back, "I saw you in there, with Billy," John lowered his head as Irene shut her eyes. "I know what you were doing, You was trying to get him to fuck you, because you're a little fucking whore!" He taunted her, violently shaking her slender frame.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Riley seemed the slightest bit drunk. Sensing the intensity, you quietly moved to another spot to hear them better, "I'm tired. I want to sleep," Irene pleaded helplessly, pulling away. Her once-neat bun now betrayed signs of disarray.

"I've had enough of you. Do you understand?" John forcefully pulled her back towards him, and Irene released a pained groan. "You're a fucking embarrassment. You're always out there in heat. It's fucking disgusting and I've had e-fucking-nough!" He yelled in her face.

Part of you wanted to go out there and confront him, but what would that do? Your gaze involuntarily fell on the revolver snug in his gun belt—John Riley, a man not hesitant to use it, especially if he discovered you eavesdropping on their private dispute.

"So have I!" Mrs. Riley yelled back, making you slightly jump at the suddenness of it. "I've had enough of you; I hate you!" She roughly shoved him off of her, stumbling as she walked away.

From where you were hiding, you could see what she was doing. What she was reaching for in her garter. A revolver. Swiftly turning, she cocked it and fired, the shot lacking precision. Her lack of aim resulted in wounding John's upper right arm, and you instinctively covered your mouth to stifle a gasp, your eyes widening in shock.

Meanwhile, Billy had been searching everywhere for you. His search for you led him out front of the house where the unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierced the air, prompting his head to whip in the direction of the noise.

Against the wall, you pressed yourself further, a silent witness to the unfolding chaos. In a single, fluid motion, Mr. Riley drew his gun, the metallic click resonating in the tense atmosphere before a decisive shot rang out. Her body dropped to the floor where you saw a clear view of the blood pooling around her body.

Your hands covered your mouth in both shock and horror. Trembling with fear, you couldn't tear your eyes away. At the echo of a second gunshot, Billy sprinted to the side of the house. The urgency became palpable – you needed to leave, immediately. Peeking cautiously around the corner, you saw John's back, hunched and vulnerable, as he clutched his wound.

You quickly slip out before you bump into a hard surface. Your eyes widen in shock as Billy stares down at you, his eyebrows knit in confusion yet his gaze reflecting genuine concern. Before he can question about your unexpected presence, his attention shifts behind you to where Irene's lifeless form lies sprawled on the ground.

His gaze then locks onto John, who winces in pain. "She's dead!" Billy instinctively pushes you to safety behind him; your breathing is quick and shallow, your chest heaving with rapid breaths. Billy's gaze remains fixed on Mrs. Riley.

"What did you do?" His voice turns cold, and the unmistakable sound of him cocking his gun follows. "Billy!" you whisper-yell, hand urgently tugging on his shirt. "She shot me! She tried to kill me!" John points to his bleeding wound, your fear lingering despite Billy's protective stance. "Now, get me some fucking help!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" James Dolan rushes in between the two, "what the hell is happening?" Billy's aim at John doesn't falter. "You're friend killed his wife." You flinch when John's yell rang through your ears, "She shot me! Look at me!"

"Okay, okay, just.... Billy," Dolan puts his hand on Billy's arm, lowering the gun, "Billy, put it down, all right?" Billy complies but hesitates when he puts his gun back in the safety of his belt. You clutch onto Billy's arm as pulls you into his chest, relief flooding through you as he holds you tightly.

"Hey, go fetch the doctor, huh?" You hear James yell. Unbeknownst to you, Billy's eyes stayed glued on Irene. His lip quivering slightly. There had been so much life in her just a couple minutes before, and now, he stared at her lifeless body, blood soaking into her dress.

As his hand moved to caress your hair, his eyes snap to James and John. James was ushering John to go back inside so that he could help him until Billy interjects. "We need a fucking sheriff!" He yelled, as you felt the vibration of his chest in your entire body as you clung to him even more.

"Billy, Billy please, take me out of here," You pull his face down in between your hands as he gazes at your desperate eyes. "Just, just get out of here!" James instructs the onlookers. Billy brushes the sweaty strands that framed your face back. "Sh, it's okay, 'm right here, sweetheart," He pulls you back into the warmth of his chest as you let out a choked sob.

~

“What were you doin' there?” The question, anticipated and inevitable, lingered in the air. Placing your cup on the kitchen counter, you turned to face Billy, his eyes fixed on you, awaiting your response. His expression, an enigma.

Exhaling through your nose, you crossed your arms, eyes drifting to the plant in the corner of the room. "I just wanted to check if she was okay, stumbling around the house drunk, Billy," you lied, leaving the part out where you saw them kissing and discreetly letting Mr. Riley know of the inappropriate behaviour his wife was partaking in.

Pushing off the counter, you approached Billy, your feet closing the distance. His legs, too long for the table, faced you, stretching out.

"Then Mr. Riley came, so I hid... And then it happened," you explained, shrugging. A sigh escaped your lips as you settled beside him, your hand offering a comforting squeeze to his thigh.

Billy scrutinized your features, finding sincerity in your eyes, yet sensing an underlying truth—you didn't truly care about Mrs. Riley's death. Your behaviour around her proved it.

"I just can’t stop thinking ‘bout it," Billy admitted, fingers toying with the mug handle before him. "Of course you can't, Billy-" You were cut off as Billy spoke, "She was even begging me! Fucking begged me to take her somewhere, away from him."

You bit your lip, containing your reaction to this new revelation. Irene begging him to take her away? Mr. Riley's accusatory words echoed in your mind, You were trying to get him to fuck you

"I-I should’ve done something. If I had taken her somewhere, she'd probably be alive right now," Billy stammered, and you moved to cradle his head, ushering him to stop. "Billy. Billy, stop." You spoke calmly, though turmoil brewed within.

He blamed himself for Irene's death, carrying the weight of responsibility for her demise, a fate she brought upon herself by flaunting more than friendliness—brazenly, in front of her husband.

"It is not your fault that Irene was murdered, okay?" you reassured him as he fell into silence. "Still, takin’ her somewhere could’ve helped-" "Stop!" You abruptly shouted, making Billy flinch in your grasp.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before releasing your hold on him, and Billy stared at you in shock. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just-" You halted, inhaling again to gain your composure.

“Do you really think nothing bad would’ve happened to either you or Irene if you did take her somewhere? Billy, Mr. Riley would not have taken it lightly if he found out you did take his wife somewhere,” you reason with him.

Billy nodded slowly. "Yeah, you’re right." You gave him a tight smile, patting his thigh. "I should probably get going, Jesse wants to meet up with me." Billy stood, adjusting his hat, and you rose from the seat.

"Okay, be safe." Approaching him, you smiled up, and he slipped his arm around your waist. "I love you." Leaning in, you replied, "I love you too," your lips meeting in a tender connection.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Spencer request: The team meets at a bar after they returning from a case and Spencer comes in looking dramatically different (like a nice new haircut and casual outfit and glasses) and the team / OC lose their minds

YES MAAM 🫡

It wasn’t fair.

Like, sure. Life isn’t fair, and you can’t always be the winner, but this felt personal.

Spencer Reid had agreed to go out with you all one your last night of vacation, causing Penelope to get you all to to commit to coming by signing death threats.

You didn’t even have to answer her text, knowing that the second Spencer said yes to anything, you would be there.

So that’s how you managed to find yourself packed into a booth with Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and Emily.

“I just don’t know why Morgan volunteered to drive Spencer. It sounds like a recipe for genocide.” JJ whispered in your ear, causing you to almost spit out the sip of your drink you had just taken.

Hotch eyed the two of you suspiciously before returning to his conversation with Garcia.

But that’s when you looked up, and the world stopped.

Spencer had gotten a hair cut.

And he looked fucking delicious. At least that’s what you said to yourself as your entire body froze on the spot.

He was dressed in a short sleeve button up, with the top button undone, and just these perfect pants that fit him like a glove: truly they were a gift for you at this point since all they did was make you ogle him more.

And of course, he was in his black converse, the pair you had bought him for his birthday last year. You knew because you had gotten the heel embroidered with chess pieces, A king on one heel, and a knight on the other.

But that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was that Doctor Spencer Reid was wearing his glasses.

Maybe you should’ve chickened out and not come because all you could do now was all but chug the rest of your drink, trying to not stare at him.

But you weren’t the only one.

“Damn Spence. Didn’t know you knew how to dress like that.” Jj gave him a little wolf whistle which caused his cheeks to burn red, and Morgan to clap his back and slide into the booth next to Hotch.

“T-Thanks, it was, uh. It was Morgan.” He couldn’t help but fidget with his glasses, not fully used to them. Or that was his excuse. Maybe it was because he was nervous around you. Or maybe it was because you were refusing to look at him.

“Can I…”

You looked over at him, biting the inside of your cheek. “No—I mean.” You rolled your eyes and elbowed JJ’s thigh under the table as she laughed at you. “You don’t have a drink yet, and I need a refill.”

Spencer nodded and licked his lips. “Ye-yeah a drink.”

You smiled at him quickly, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach as the two of you walked towards the bar.

“Y-You, you look really good.” Spencer whispered to you, as you flagged down the bartender, causing you to smile as you ordered yourself and Spencer your respective drinks.

“I’m surprised y/n hasn’t burst into flames yet.” Rossi snickered, clinking his glass in a cheers with Emily.

“Give ‘em two minutes tops.” She held out her hand in faux competition.

“Oh you’re on.”

While they all placed their bets, they failed to notice the way you and Spencer moved closer and closer to one another at the bar, not making any inference of turning back to the table, even though you both had been sipping on your new drinks for a while, lost in each other’s company.

[sentientcave]

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Read on AO3

Chapter 3- Busted

<Prev Chapter -

Contains: OC x Gaz, Lorelai "Rory" "Scout" Blackmoore-Price, Age gap romance (Scout is roughly 25), Annoying old men, Schemes and Plots, Mentions of John Price's many divorces, Poor decisions, alcohol mention, embarrassing conversations with a parent, Brandon (Derogative), Inadvisable Flirting x2 electric boogaloo, Gaz does not know what he wants and he makes it everyone elses problem

~6.4k - 18+ Only - MDNI

“Mornin’, Scout. Goin’ for a run?”

Rory screwed the top onto her water bottle and turned slowly, frowning at Gaz. He was, for some unfathomable reason, dressed for a run himself, and grinning a little too widely. “Uh. Yeah.”

“I’ll join you.” Not even an ask, just an statement. “See if you can keep up with me.”

Rory really didn’t like the purr of suggestion in his voice. That spelled trouble. “Listen, you—”

“Good morning,” John said, clapping Gaz on the shoulder as he came into the kitchen. He gave Scout a half hug and kissed the top of her head.

“When did you get in?” Rory asked. “I didn’t hear the door.”

“Late. Things didn’t work out with Carrie, so I went back to base to do some paperwork and debrief Soap and the kids when they got in.” He shrugged. “Go have your run, if you’re feelin’ nosy I’ll tell you over breakfast when you get back.”

“Alright. I’m probably not going to feel nosy, but I look forward to you telling me anyway. Be back in an hour or so.” Rory pushed past Gaz and headed for the door. He followed close on her heels, like he was worried that she’d take off without him if he didn’t. Which was fair, because she would have skipped her warm-ups and taken off if it meant shaking him loose.

She shot him a glare from between her legs when she dipped down to touch her toes. He was very openly ogling her, hands on his hips.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

He grinned, entirely “No. I don’t mind at all.”

“What’s your problem?” she asked. “You’re all over the place.” She didn’t wait for a response before she bounded away, light on her feet.

Gaz leapt into action, quickly catching up, setting a pace that looked infuriatingly easy beside her. She resisted the urge to run full out so early, before her muscles were fully warmed up, but it was so tempting when Gaz opened his mouth again. “Look, there’s obviously something here. Neither of us wants there to be, but I think it’s pretty hard to deny at this point.”

“There isn’t. Could you try not to imprint on the only woman in your immediate vicinity? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

He laughed, shaking his head, but he dropped it, blessedly, until she stopped for a water break at her usual halfway point. He motioned for her to toss him the water bottle.

“Why didn’t you bring your own?”

“Aw, come on Scout, didn’t we learn our lesson about sharing last night?”

“Apparently not! I think the lesson was that we shouldn’t or Ghost will point a gun at your head. I don’t want your old man germs anyway.”

“I’m not afraid of Ghost.”

“Then you fell out of one too many helicopters,” she snapped, but she handed over the water bottle anyway. It was too early to get into an argument.

“There’s a good girl,” he said.

“Garrick, I’m going to kill you if you keep that up.”

“You could try. You gonna come out with us tonight? Soap’s back with the rest of the kids, and we always go out for drinks. You’d get on with ‘em.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“With Soap and Ghost there to keep an eye on us? I think you’ll be just fine.”

“I’ll think about it. Might see what Bill’s up to. I’d rather hang out with her, if I’m being honest.”

He handed back the water, shrugging. “It’s no big deal if you don’t want to. Just thought I should offer.”

“I’ll think about it. Now come on. I need a coffee before I can deal with any more nonsense from you.” She tucked the water back into her sling bag and hit the road again, looking very forward to getting into the shower and getting a moment alone. He was going to be a pain in the arse if he kept this up.

John was, as always, drinking his coffee and smoking a cigar when they returned. Scout hit the ground to do her usual stretches, and Gaz headed straight in for a shower.

“You two gettin’ on alright?” John asked. “You look a bit sour.”

“He’s just—” Scout thought about what she could say that wouldn’t get either her or Gaz in trouble. “He’s just an interruption to my routine. I’ll adjust.”

“Got a routine, do you?” John asked. “Not just layin’ about?”

Rory rolled her eyes. “Dad. You know I’m not. I’m a Blackmoore-Price, we don’t know how to do nothing. I literally just published a new book yesterday. Do not ask to read it.”

“That’s five now, and you still won’t let me read them?” John asked. “Has Sadie read them?”

She grimaced. If he knew that her mum hadn’t just read them, but read first drafts and advised her, he’d start getting a lot more insistent. “No,” she lied. “Mum’s too busy to read my silly little stories.” Another lie. Sadie always made time for her.

John made an unconvinced noise. “Scout, I just want to support you. You should let me.”

“It’s just embarrassing. I’ll think about it, okay? You can read my next one. Even the rough draft if you want, it’s kind of a spy thriller, you might like it. I was going to try publishing it under my own name and everything.” Rory grinned. “And mom hasn’t read that one at all.”

John hummed, blue eyes sharp. “I thought you said she hadn’t read any of them.”

Busted. “Yeah, alright, she has.”

“I thought as much. If you don’t let me read the rest I’m going to get nosy, and you won’t like that.” He pointed his cigar at her, the threat meant lightly, but serious enough that Scout knew he meant business. He was already a nosy old man and thought that was normal, if he was going to get what he considered nosy then Scout would have zero privacy. Not ideal for a grown woman living with a parent.

“Fuck. Fine. I’ll drop them on your desk. Do not speak to me about them. I don’t think I can handle the embarrassment. I’ve a delicate constitution.”

“No you don’t. Thank you, pumpkin.”

Rory rolled her eyes and pushed herself back up onto her feet. “If I die from humiliation it’ll be all your fault.”

He hummed, shaking his head with amusement. “Go get changed, I’m making pancakes.”

Rory bounced up the stairs, reaching the top just as Gaz exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. He was unfairly fit, lean and muscled like a classical statue carved by a very loving hand. The few scars that marred his skin only made him look better, adding a dangerous edge to an almost too perfect body. She dragged her eyes off the bead of water that slid down his chest before it reached far enough to get her in real trouble.

“Put some fucking clothes on!” she hissed.

“I’m about to. You worried you like what you see?”

“I’m worried that you’re a whore, Garrick! Get out of my sight!” Rory whirled around and firmly shut herself in her own room, grimacing. Maybe she should move back to London. At least there she wouldn’t have to worry about this.

She’d have to worry about other things, of course, like the press and the events and the lack of freedom. Out here, even with an overbearing father and his stupid protective friends, she could do a lot more without anyone bothering her about it.

She had a quick shower once she heard Gaz head downstairs, and got fully dressed before she left the bathroom. She wasn’t even going to risk a repeat of last night. Gaz was never going to catch her half-dressed ever again, that was for sure.

“Alright, what happened with Carrie?” Rory asked, throwing herself into one of the island chairs, leaving two seats between her and Gaz, just in case. “You’d been trying to get her to go out for ages.”

John wrinkled his nose. “Turned out she was usin’ me to make her ex jealous. Found out as much when he stormed into her flat when we were havin’ a drink. Didn’t need to be asked to go more’n once.”

“What a bitch,” Rory said, turning a small narrow-eyed glance at Gaz so he knew that her next words were meant for him too. “That’s just childish.”

“Well. It is what it is. How’s your mother doing, Scout?”

“Dad. You can’t keep throwing yourself at mom every time it doesn’t work out with someone else.”

“I suppose she hasn’t changed her mind anyway. Sadie’s even more stubborn than I am.” John handed Scout a mug of coffee and a plate of blueberry pancakes. “Just miss her. She never played games like this.”

“Thanks dad. And honestly, you need to meet someone nice, someone that doesn’t know you as Captain or Major Price, that you can just be, you know, yourself with. Maybe someone without any ex husbands. You have more than enough marital baggage for two people.”

John laughed. “You know anyone?”

“No! I am absolutely not going through that again. My friends are off limits.”

Gaz snickered. “You dated one of her friends?”

“She was older!” John said defensively. “She was a TA for one of Scout’s classes, and they lived together for a bit so we met— That’s besides the point. I’m not the one who’s love life we should be talkin’ about.” He looked at Gaz. “You got a game plan for Billie yet?”

“Not yet. Gonna give her some space, let her realize she misses me. Maybe I’ll bump into her at the grocery store or coffee shop, if I’m lucky.” Gaz dug into his own pancakes and chewed thoughtfully. “But I’m not going out of my way. Might try going on a few dates myself, honestly. Maybe Bill was right. We had a good run. Maybe we should call it.”

“You’re just gonna let her go without a fight?” John asked, sitting down with his own stack of pancakes. “That’s not like you.”

“No offense sir, but I don’t want to be sittin’ where you are down a few years down the line, still chasin’ an ex-wife who doesn’t love me. Maybe I should start lookin’ for someone new.”

“Sadie still loves me. It’d be easier to let her go if she didn’t. It doesn’t all just go away because you sign a few papers.”

“Sometimes people can’t give each other what they need. Love isn’t enough,” Rory said. “It’s just one ingredient. Common goals, clear expectations, communication— These are things that make a relationship last.” She knew that she was talking to some of the thickest men alive, but she still had to try to set them back on course. “You both have to stop thinking about it like that. The ‘she loves me, she loves me not’ shit is for kids on the playground. You’re grown men, and you need to start acting like it.”

John sighed, but Gaz looked down at his breakfast, contemplative. Rory was pretty sure her father was beyond help, but Gaz might not be.

She dropped her books on John’s desk after breakfast, and holed up in her room most of the day, texting her out of town friends about everything that had happened, and checking in to see if Billie was free to hang out that night. She wasn’t, which sucked. Rory wasn’t really keen on the idea of going out with Gaz and his task force, but she liked the idea of staying in the house less.

She was getting restless. Settling into a new place and a new routine had staved off the itch to behave badly for a little while, but she needed to blow off steam or she’d do something really stupid.

It was Brandon that tipped the scales in favour of going out, texting her out of the blue late in the afternoon.

Brandon: Gonna be in London for a week. Would love to see you, Lorelai.

Scout: I don’t live in London.

Brandon: I’d still like to see you. I miss you every day, you know. I get that you’re seeing other people now, but I think we can still work things out.

Seeing other people? Where had he gotten that idea?

Oh, right. Soap and Ghost answering her phone a few weeks ago.

Scout: I’m not. The guys who answered my phone were my dad’s friends.

Brandon: Oh?

Brandon: So you’d be free for dinner next Saturday? I’ll come to you.

Brandon: Hereford, right? If you’re staying with your father.

Rory groaned and tipped herself off her bed. She was definitely going to need a drink now.

Scout: Yeah. Sure. Great.

Brandon: Wonderful (: It’ll be good to see you. And to talk.

Ominous.

She thumped downstairs to make a tea, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, taking in the view of Gaz shaking his hips to some top one hundred pop song on the radio, chopping up some veg to throw into a bubbling pot that smelled enticingly of curry. He grinned when he noticed her, and reached over to turn down the music. “Hey, Scout. You decide if you’re comin’ out with us tonight?”

She slid past him to grab the kettle and fill it with water. “I think I will. Tea?”

“Please. What changed your mind?”

“My ex is badgering me to go out to dinner with him next week. I’m annoyed by him and I need a drink.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Gaz asked. “You were together for a bit.”

“Oh, he’s like, a rich asshole. We met at some fundraiser my mom got invited to, and he was the only person there who was remotely cute, so we hung out all night. And then he wanted to keep hanging out, and then he wanted to date, and I couldn’t really come up with a good reason not to. And then the next thing I knew, we were living together, and his mum started trying to get to know me, and when she started getting all weird, I knew I needed to get out before Brandon proposed. So I moved out over a weekend I knew he wouldn’t be home, and left him a note.” Rory huffed. “Cowardly, I know. But I knew he’d talk me down if I did it face to face.”

Gaz frowned, the few faint lines on his forehead creasing slightly. "That's not what I was expecting."

"I hesitate to ask, but what did you expect?"

"The opposite, I guess. Figured he was some immature college kid who didn't want to commit. Didn't think you would be the one runnin' away."

"With parents like mine?" Rory laughed bitterly, pulling mugs down from the cupboard. "I'm not the rushing in half-cocked type. I'm not going to marry the first guy who makes an offer just 'cause he's there. I don't ever want to go through a divorce, so I'm going to wait until I find someone who gets me. Give myself the best chance I can."

"Admirable. But it doesn't always work out that way. I thought Bill and I got each other."

"That's why I said that common goals and communication are important. You and Billie want different things. You want someone to come home to, and she wants a partner she can grow with. That doesn't work if you're not there."

"How are you such an expert?"

"I listen to what people say to me." The kettle clicked off, and she made tea, letting the radio and the soft domestic sounds of the kitchen fill the space. He was a lot more bearable when he shut his pretty mouth and kept his opinions to himself. She slid one mug to him when she finished, and carried one out to the living room, setting it on the end table next to John. He was reading her book, glasses balanced on the end of his nose.

He murmured his thanks, barely glancing up from the page, and Rory quickly retreated back into the kitchen.

"How d'you know how I take my tea?" Gaz asked.

"It's a splash of milk, its not exactly hard to remember." Rory sipped her tea, wincing when she scalded her tongue. “Do you want me to wash rice for dinner? Since you’ve got everything else covered.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s not a lot of effort, Gaz, I think I can handle it.” She didn’t wait for confirmation before she started on the task, gently pushing him out of the way so she could grab the rice cooker out from the island cupboard.

He stayed quiet until she’d finished and pressed the button to start the little machine. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said, and his pretty brown eyes were sincere, voice lacking the usual sardonic edge. “And this morning. Keep actin’ a right tit around you. Gets me right in the ego when you say you’re not interested. And you shouldn’t be— I shouldn’t be. Think I’m just worried that Bill was my only shot, and I’m tryin’ to prove that I still have somethin’ to offer.”

“Refreshingly honest, Garrick,” Rory said. “Keep that up. I’m gonna go shave my legs and figure out what I’m wearing tonight. I’m hoping to get laid. I was texting a guy for a while but he went dead silent on me, so I’m back to square one.”

“I don’t need to know that.”

“What do you care? All I need from you is to keep Captain Clean and Mr. Bones off my back. I already have one over protective dad, really don’t need you lads taking up the task too.” She picked up her tea and headed back upstairs, shaking her head.

She sifted through her closet for the right outfit, laying a few out on the bed while she shaved her legs and ironed the near-permanent ponytail crease out of her hair. It was hard to decide without knowing where they were going, so she asked over dinner, earning a raised eyebrow from John.

“Are the two of you goin’ somewhere?” he asked, the slightest hint of you’d better fuckin’ not be colouring his voice.

Rory pretended not to notice the undercurrent in his voice, even if a flicker of panic skittered across Gaz’s face. “Ghost and Soap invited me to come out and meet the kids. I’m looking forward to meeting Nitro. She sounds fun.” Rory was an expert study in the art of giving her parents just enough information to settle them down. “And I haven’t really been out to see the nightlife in this town yet. I’m pretty sure you can rely on Ghost to keep me out of too much trouble.”

“We’re going to that bar we went to last month,” Gaz said. “But Nitro and Lucky might manage to drag us out to that club they always want to go to. We’ll see.”

“Are you driving?” she asked. “Or are we taking a cab?”

“I’m drivin’,” he confirmed. “If we have to take a cab back or hitch a ride from Ghost, we will.”

“It’s a nice walk too.” Rory hummed, re-evaluating her short-list of outfits. “But that depends on what shoes I’m wearing.”

John nodded, content to leave it at that, just happy that it wasn’t what he had initially jumped to. It was a bit funny that he trusted Gaz so little, although it was hard to say if that was based off of their behaviour, or if he was just remembering some wilder, younger Gaz before Billie. Gaz was a charmer now, but Rory suspected that with looks like his, he could have been a real fuck boy. Probably had been.

With that in mind, she picked a tight black dress that showed off miles of leg, and pulled a pair of black jeans over top. Grown woman or no, she knew her father— There was no way he’d let her out of the house with that much skin showing. She didn’t need to waste energy on a losing battle with John Price before she even made it outside.

She pulled on her shoes while she waited for Gaz, eyeing the book sitting on the coffee table. The bookmark was close to the middle already, but John was keeping his end of the bargain and pointedly not talking about it. He’d been buried in it most of the day, which was terrifying. It was a very weird feeling, sharing her creative work with John. Sadie had always been the parent she opened up to.

Luckily Gaz didn’t take too long to hop down the stairs, wearing a nice button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Don’t wait up,” she called over her shoulder as she shuffled Gaz out the door, barely giving him time to snatch his car keys off the hook.

“You know I will,” John called back.

“What’s the rush?” Gaz asked. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“I know! But dad is reading one of my books and I can’t deal. I need a drink to cope.”

Gaz raised his eyebrows, grinning. “That’s your book?”

Rory groaned, throwing herself into the passenger seat. “Please don’t tell me you’ve read it.”

“Alright,” he said peaceably, turning the keys in the ignition. “I won’t.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Ghost really likes ‘em, recommended them a few times. Hadn’t got around to readin’, but I certainly will now. Does he know you wrote them?”

“No! And please do not tell him. Also, don’t read them. This is all plenty weird enough.” Rory shifted in her seat, kicking her shoes off so she could wriggle her jeans down her legs.

“What— What are you doing?” The panic in Gaz’s voice was very funny.

“I only wore these jeans so I could get out the door without a fight. I told you I was trying to get laid tonight.” She shook her head, folding the discarded denim neatly and tossing it into the backseat. It was like he hadn’t even been listening.

“Fuckin’ hell. You’re a menace.”

“That’s what I’m going for, thank you.”

“You don’t need to show that much leg to get attention, you know. You’re plenty hot with your trousers on.”

“Of course I am,” Rory scoffed. “But I’m not looking for some guy who’s going to appreciate me for my brains and wit, I’m looking for an easy lay in the back of a car from a big stupid military lunkhead who barely respects me.”

“Why?”

“Because if he’s an ass I don’t have to feel bad about using him, and we all get what we want and never speak again.”

“You can do better than that,” Gaz protested.

“Obviously. This isn’t about better, or about long term, or about anything except for sex. Didn’t you have ill-advised hook-ups with girls and boys you didn’t care about when you were my age? I know it was a long time ago, but I’m sure you can think back that far.” Rory shoved her hair over her shoulder and pulled her shoes back on.

“I mean— I guess some. But it’s better when you care about each other.”

“Well, yeah, obviously. But I’m not about to throw myself into another relationship just so I can get some dick. That would be stupid.”

“And fuckin’ some meathead in the back of his car is a real bright idea, yeah?” By the tension in his jaw and the way he gripped the steering wheel, Gaz was really unhappy with her plan for the evening. Was he jealous?

“What’s your problem?”

“Are you so hard up that you’d rather jump on the first cock you see instead of waitin’ for someone that you actually like?”

He was jealous. She really needed to find a way to nip this behaviour in the bud. “It could be ages before I meet someone I actually like. And It’s important to get laid before I see Brandon or he’s gonna work his way under my skirt. He sucks, but not at that.” When he didn’t respond, glaring out the windshield like the road ahead had personally offended him, Rory sighed. “Oh don’t take it personally, Garrick. I’m just looking for easy and uncomplicated. You’re hot, but I think we both know that this” — She gestured to the space between them— “would be extremely complicated. And possibly deadly, in your case.”

He shot her a look that was a little too affronted. “I wasn’t talking about me.”

“Of course not.”

He worked his jaw loose, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel, letting silence fill the space for a long minute. When Rory reached for the radio, he spoke again. “I think you’re right, you know. About needing to think about what I actually want. I was just holding onto the way things were because it was comfortable. I knew what to expect with Bill. And it’s nice to come home to predictable and familiar when you’re dealing with all the shit I do in the field.”

“Well, I’m here if you need to talk through it. Just not tonight, on account of the me getting laid thing.”

He laughed, turning the car into the lot down the street from the pub. The street parking closer looked all full up already. “Right, yeah. Don’t fuck any of my soldiers, by the way. I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Of course,” Rory agreed, hopping out of the car and pulling her dress down a little further. “I think I can handle that, unless they’re really cute.”

They walked the short distance to the pub side by side, and Gaz opened the door for her, following her in. It wasn’t too busy yet, but Ghost and Soap were already there, staking out a space in one of the larger booths, with two women sitting across from them.

The taller one, a short-haired tank of a woman, grinned at them. “Hey Captain! Who’s the smokeshow?” She had a faint Welsh accent, a little bounciness to her words that would be delightful to listen to all night, and a slight gap between her front teeth.

“I’m Rory,” she said, stopping at the top of the table and sticking a hand out. “Some of the old men around here call me Scout.”

“Spencer. Call me Nitro. This is Alex— Shivs.” Shivs was a slender, serious looking young woman, her dark hair pulled back in a braid, revealing the blondish roots around her hairline. “Lucky and Roach should be back in a minute,” Nitro continued. “They just went out for a smoke.”

Soap slid out of his seat next to Ghost and pointed to it. “Scout. Yer sittin’ where we can keep an eye on ye. Yer up tae no good, dressed like tha’. Surprised the old man let yeh out of the house.”

“She was wearing pants when we left,” Gaz said tiredly, dropping into the seat beside Nitro. “Nearly crashed the car when she started takin’ ‘em off.”

“I can see why. Those are some nice legs.” Nitro winked at Rory. “Wouldn’t mind seein’ ‘em—”

“Lieutenant,” Gaz said warningly. “That’s Price’s daughter. Off limits.”

“Scout, sit your arse down,” Soap said, glaring over his shoulder. “Best keep yer eyes tae yerself, lads, or Ah’m gonnae pry ‘em out.”

Rory glanced back at whoever Soap was talking to, frowning at the three men who were very pointedly looking anywhere else now. “Oh come on, Mactavish, let a girl live.”

“Sit,” he repeated firmly. “I’ll get ye a drink. Wouldnae be safe to let you near the bar.”

Rory sat, sighing heavily when Ghost pulled her tight against his side. "We're not 'avin' any funny business from you. If you can't behave I'll drag you back 'ome myself, got it?"

"Oh cut her some slack, Riley," Nitro said. "She's young and hot. Let some meatheads buy her drinks. If I looked like that I'd never pay for alcohol again."

"You look pretty good as is." Rory leaned forward, her eyes making an unsubtle sweep of Nitro's thick arms. "I'd buy you a drink if Mr. Bones wasn't holding me hostage over here."

“Scout.” Gaz pointed at her sternly. “No.”

“They’re so mean,” Rory complained. “Think that just because they’re friends with my dad that they have to act like this.”

“They’re worse than my dad,” Shivs said sympathetically. “And he dangled one of my first boyfriends over a second story balcony.”

“He was nice to me,” Nitro said.

“That’s because he doesn’t know we’ve fucked.” Shivs sent a sly glance down the table at Gaz. “Before she was my Lieutenant, of course. No fraternizing here.”

“Oh relax, Shivs. I’ve fucked three out of five of the people at this table right now.” Nitro pulled Shivs into her lap and slid further down the bench to make room. “But give it time.”

“You— When?” Shivs looked from Ghost to Soap to Gaz, eyes wide, trying to decide which two of the three men seemed the most likely. “The captains?”

Nitro shrugged, grinning. “Maybe.”

“What are we talking about?” A young man that looked a lot like Nitro settled into the seat beside Gaz.

“None of your business, kiddo,” Nitro said, hooking her chin over Shivs’ shoulder. “This is Lucky, by the by,” she added for Rory’s benefit. “And the lanky son of a bitch that looks like he’s seen a ghost is Roach. Lads, this is Rory. If you hit on her Soap will pull out your eyeballs and eat them.”

Rory glanced up at a familiar freckled face and propped her elbows on the table, dropping her chin into her hands. “Oh, hi Gary,” she said. “You never texted me back.”

He gave Gaz a slightly panicked look before returning his attention to Rory. “Um. Yeah. I should’ve. I’m sorry, I just, uh—”

“Ah told him he’d better leave ye be,” Soap said, sliding past Roach and onto the bench, setting a glass in front of Rory and sliding one further down to Ghost. “He’s a good soldier, I cannae ha’e yer da stranglin’ him tae death.”

“I’m sorry,” Roach said, grimacing. “I was going to— I just hadn’t figured out what to say yet.”

“It’s fine, really,” Rory said, peering around Soap’s bulky frame. “I know how these arseholes can be.”

“Jest bought ye a drink and yer callin’ us names.”

“I would gladly buy my own drinks but you’ve banned me from the bar. What is this anyway?”

“Dark an’ stormy. Gingerbeer an’ rum. Ah’ll switch ye if ye’d rather ha’e the scotch, but Ah think ye’ll like it.”

“I love gingerbeer. Good pick, Captain Clean.”

It was easy to fall into the easy camaraderie at the table, even if Gaz or Soap scolded Nitro every time she said something remotely flirty (which only made Nitro do it more).

She needed a plan to get Soap and Ghost off her back, however. They weren’t going to budge if she went at them head on, so she needed to get them to want to get a little distance. Just annoying them wouldn’t be enough, so she would have to go with the nuclear option.

After a couple more drinks, when everyone was relaxed and settled into the conversation, she put her hand on Soap’s thigh. He tensed up, giving her a wild-eyed look, which caught Gaz’s attention. None of the others seemed to notice, although Nitro gave Rory a sly look from across the table. She launched into a story, pulling the eyes at the table towards her, and Rory dug her nails in, not hard enough to do any damage through his jeans, but enough to make Soap inhale sharply, eyebrows snapping together when he looked at her. Scout kept her eyes on Nitro, pretending to be fully engrossed in what Nitro was saying, leaning forward to sip her drink, looking at Soap only when she already had the straw between her lips, eyes wide and innocent.

Soap sent a panicked look over her head, and Ghost shifted his arm down to hold her arm tight to her body so that when he pulled her toward himself her hand was pulled from Soap’s thigh. Ghost leaned in close, his breath stirring her hair when he spoke. “What are you doin’?” he asked, voice so low that even she barely caught it.

Rather than try to break away, she just snuggled in closer. “Nothing.”

Ghost sat up straight in his seat, every muscle locking up tight. “Let’s play a couple rounds of darts,” he suggested. “You’re gettin’ restless.”

Rory tipped her head back against his shoulder to look at him. “Mm, good idea. I do need to stretch my legs.” She stretched her legs out under the table, sliding the toe of her shoe up the inside of Gaz’s calf, putting him on high alert as well. If she played this right, they’d all be watching each other too closely to notice when she made a break for it.

There was another pub a couple blocks over. She could make it there and find a bit of fun before they realized where she’d gone. Or, judging by the look that Lucky was periodically sending her way, she might not have to go that far. She held eye contact for a beat, just long enough to let him know it was intentional, and then followed Soap out of the booth. It was too bad that Gary had turned out to be a dead end, but Lucky was cute too, a bit wilder looking. He had the same grin that Nitro did, one that spelled trouble and a lack of concern for consequence.

“What do you think you’re up to?” Ghost asked, eyes narrowed while he watched Soap throw the first few darts.

“Why do you think I’m up to something?” Rory asked.

“You’re actin’ like a little tart,” he said flatly.

Rory tapped the ends of her cluster of darts against his chest, tipping her head to the side and smiling up at him. “Maybe I am a little tart. You gonna do something about it?”

“You don’t want me doin’ somethin’ about it, princess.”

The thrill that his growl sent down her spine was unexpected. In truth, she’d never considered the possibility that Ghost would entertain even the thought, but suddenly she was the one thinking about it. “That’s okay. I’ll ask Gaz to do something about it.”

“No ye willnae,” Soap said, pushing her into place so she could throw. “Yer barkin’ up the wrong trees, Scout. Barkin’ in the wrong forest. Ye dinnae want anythin’ ye’ll find around here.”

“I don’t know about that.” She squared herself up, sending the darts flying in quick succession. “I figure there’s enthusiasm around here in spades, if it comes to it, but I prefer experience.”

“Somethin’ wrong with ye,” Soap grumbled. “D’ye no’ want a nice boy yer own age?”

“Roach is a nice boy my age. You told him to get. Gaz’s cousin was a nice boy my age, and you tossed him into the garden. So who exactly do you think I should be flirting with?” Rory went to fetch the darts, handing half off to Soap. “Who among us is worthy, John?”

Soap sent Ghost a helpless look that said you deal with her. Rory hummed, turning her attention back to Ghost, head tipped to the side expectantly.

“We’re lookin’ out for you.”

“Oh I know. But if you don’t give me enough space to find a dick to ride I’m gonna be looking to you three for a volunteer.”

Soap’s last dart hit the very edge of the board and fell to the floor. He gave Rory and Ghost a wide, blue-eyed stare, the game already half forgotten. “Did ye just say what I think ye did?”

“I don’t know.” Rory switched places with him so she could line up for her turn. “Your hearing isn’t what it used to be. What do you think I said?”

“Ah think yer a wicked wee temptress, is what I think,” he said. “Tryna get us kilt by yer da, you are.”

“Johnny,” Ghost said, grabbing him by a belt-loop and pulling him in close. Johnny’s face flushed red when Ghost’s other hand tipped his chin up, the picture of a man with strained patience scolding his dog for digging around in the flower beds for the third time this week. “Price ain’t gonna ‘ave any reason to kill you, is ‘e?”

“Weel—”

“Johnny.”

“She’s grown, we cannae tell her what tae do,” Soap protested. Funny how quick he was to change his tune when she suggested that she might try to sleep with him. “An’ maybe it’d be better for one of us—”

“Bloody ‘ell, Johnny, use your upstairs ‘ead. You’ve got enough will-power t’say no, don’t you?”

“I dinnae ken if Ah do, Si. Tha’s a lot of leg.”

Rory tossed a look over her shoulder at the table, meeting Lucky’s eyes for a moment. He winked. She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she turned back toward the board, throwing another tight cluster of darts close to the bullseye. Soap was having a bad game, his head clearly somewhere else. She went to collect the darts, bending at the waist to pick up the fallen one.

“Steamin’ Jaysus,” Soap groaned, leaning his forehead against Ghost’s shoulder. “Ah’m a dead man.”

“Don’t worry,” Rory said cheerfully. “At least one of you will survive to look after your kids.”

“Don’t be so sure. If I let go of our lad’s leash and let ‘im ‘ump you, I’ll be in ‘ot water too. Just behave yourself.”

“Oh alright. You’re no fun.”

She handily beat Johnny, and purposefully lost to Ghost (although she had to admit that she might not have won against Ghost even if she had been giving it her all) so that Ghost and Johnny were set to play against each other. Once they set up, she slipped off through the back hallway and out into the alley. She was good at melting into the background when she wanted to, it would take a minute for them to realize that she was gone and not at the table with the others either.

They’d be glad for the reprieve. So was she. It was hard work walking the line of keeping Soap just riled up enough that Ghost’s attention was on him instead of her.

She started walking toward the street, buzzing with victory and drinks she hadn’t needed to buy herself, when someone stepped into the mouth of the alley, blocking her path.

“Hey, Scout,” Gaz said, placing a cigarette between his lips, smirking at her as he brought the shivering orange flame from his lighter up. “Are you goin’ somewhere?”

Busted.

Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - Banners by @/cafekitsune

[wexhappyxfew]

sweet-talking silver bullets

I in fact have never been normal about anything ever so enjoy a hodgepodge of MOTA OCs I've developed just because. You might've met Annie Bradshaw (who was Annie Chattaway) in another prompt request a few weeks back, but I wanted to do some more with her....and then I gave her a new position, changed her last name, and added an intriguing plot for some ideas, so....enjoy the introduction to some of the crew of Silver Bullets, and Annie, who is trying to navigate a crew who is suffering from a heavy loss, plus some John-squared (Egan and Brady)!

"You must be the new LT, huh?" a voice said from her left; turning sharply to her right, she noticed a woman sat at the bar, a cigarette hanging from her lip, and sad, downturned eyes staring at a piece of paper in front of her. Annie looked around briefly, slightly confused by the sudden addressing of herself, but then nodded - the woman couldn't see it evidently but it was out of habit - and stepped forward.

"Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw, just in from Fort Des Moines," Annie said, outstretching a hand forward to the woman, who glanced up from the piece of paper and then quickly shook her hand before turning and looking away again, "I'm-"

"Sorry for your loss." the woman said, glancing her way, "Yeah, we've gotten that quite a lot."

Annie went quiet and shut her eyes for a moment. She sucked in a deep breath before clearing her throat.

"You must be….?" Annie started, trying to see if this woman was who she thought she was.

"Francis Montez," she said with a nod, "Lieutenant. I was Faulkner's copilot."

"From what I heard, you landed the plane beautifully," Annie said with a firm tone, "it was brave of you to do." Montez glanced at her and pulled the cigarette from her lip.

"I didn't have a choice now, did I?" Montez muttered, before folding the paper and standing to her rather tall height and blowing smoke from her lips, "The rest of the girls are around. You'll meet 'em all soon enough." And with that, Montez was wavering away, disappearing between the folds of men in uniform and Clubmobile ladies. Annie remembered seeing the article - the day the 100th lost Captain Birdie Faulkner, the day her 2nd Lieutenant Francis Montez risked every inch of herself to get her, the plane and the crew to safety. The day she got the call to report to Thorpe Abbotts. Annie slowly leaned up against the bar and let out a breath.

"Lieutenant….uh….Bradshaw?" Annie looked up and found a shorter woman, with bright, blue eyes and beautifully curled, blonde hair stood in front of her, lips painted a deep cherry red, a careening smile on her face, "Margie Harlowe, put her there." Margie had her hand stretched out in front of her to shake, pristine uniform on point for all to see, and those bright eyes to match. Annie offered a pinprick of a smile and nodded, shaking her hand firmly before putting her hands in the pockets of the jacket over her own uniform.

"Real name's Marjorie, but��I don't know, Margie became easier to yell through comms thousands of feet in the air." she said with a growing grin, "Really a pleasure that you're here. I know Harding's been trying to get another one of you pilots in for days now. Scrambling and all."

"It's a pleasure to be here," Annie said quickly, her nerves bubbling over at the worst of times, before recognizing her manners, "Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw. Just in from Fort Des Moines, hopped one of the newer birds to get over here as quick as I could." Margie let out a barking laugh and crossed her arms, throwing her head back like it were the best joke in the world.

"Fort Des Moines, you say that funny, where you from?" Margie asked her and then held up her hands dramatically from her chest, "No, wait….let me guess. New England…..maybe Vermont." Margie seemed to understand the look in Annie's eyes and shook her head.

"Nah, gotta be midwest, you're sweet as peaches." she said, "Iowa?"

"Minnesota. Mankato." Annie offered with an attempt at a smile.

"Ah! You must've heard - Major Egan, he's a Wisconsin guy. 's a wonder that he's so chatty." Annie laughed at her words, "I assume you've met him then?"

"Out on the tarmac. Showed me the mess hall. Well….officers' club." Annie said and Margie seemed to get a kick out of that and nodded.

"Yeah, he's real sweet until you gotta start having to actually sweet-talk him." Margie said, noticing Annie's gaze again, "Don't ask." Annie smirked.

"So, you met Silver Bullets yet? She's a beaut." Margie said, with a gleam in her eyes, "Flies faster than you can bet on her with." Something passed over Annie's eyes and Margie seemed to notice it, the smile crinkling the slightest bit. Silver Bullets. The B-17 that Captain Faulkner had piloted on various missions and had died in as well.

The B-17 awaiting its newest pilot.

"Nah, not yet." Annie said, "Met Lieutenant Montez though…..said I'd find you all around here."

"Yeah, Monty, she's….she's not doing great. Well, after everything," Margie said with a half-hearted smile that looked more like a depleted frown, "she had to get the thing on the ground with Birdie's body next to her." Annie watched as Margie sighed and shut her eyes and seemed to shutter.

"We're really glad you're here," Margie said quietly, looking up at Annie, "It's been…..weird, without Birdie here. Everyone trusted Birdie, all the other pilots, Operations…..her being gone, I don't know….they don't like the thought of us going up with just anyone." The words 'just anyone' seemed to strike something deep inside of Annie as she stood there against the bar and she nodded. Just anyone, she thought to herself.

"I intend to prove our worth here," Annie said quietly, "you, me, the whole crew. Silver Bullets." Margie smiled at her and nodded.

"Really, though, we're glad you're here, ma'am." Annie did feel her nerves settle for a moment as she stood there, just hearing Margie's words directed at her with consolation and comfort all at once.

"Lieutenant 'No Name' Bradshaw," a incredibly distinct voice said from over her shoulder, Margie's eyes darting upwards and Annie slowly following her line of sight, "can't believe you actually came." Major Egan grinned.

"We were just talking about you, sir!" Margie exclaimed, jumping in with wide eyes, "Just near about summoned you like you were God."

"Don't inflate his ego," muttered a brunette coming in from Major Egan's side, "it's bursting the bubbles at this point." Annie looked to Major Egan.

"Captain Brady invited me." she offered towards him and he raised a surprised brow.

"Oh leave her alone, sir," Margie said with a scolding, but playful look, "just because you can pull all that sweet-talking with Farley here-"

"Hey." grumbled the woman - her assumption that it was Farley was evident.

"Don't go pulling it with Bradshaw alright, she could probably take you out swinging, sir." managed Margie and Major Egan chuckled.

"Dancing? Oh I'd love to." he said, with a nod, "Want to give me a spin, No Name?"

"Leave her alone," Farley said from beside Major Egan, "Kennedy Farley, gunner on Silver Bullets."

"Pleasure to meet you." Annie said with a quick smile, before noticing Major Egan was watching her again, "Is Captain Brady here, sir? I meant to go thank him."

"He's somewhere," Kennedy offered instead, "but don't mind him-" she swiftly pointed to Major Egan who was grinning as proud as he could, "-this is just Major John Egan for you." Quite the sentiment and statement about a Major in the 100th.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw," Annie turned from Major Egan, Margie and Kennedy and found Captain Brady there, removing the peak cap and tucking it under his armpit, before sticking out a hand, in what she assumed as a friendly reintroduction.

"Well, No Name, seems he came right to you," Major Egan said with a chuckle, as Annie reached forward and shook Captain Brady's hand firmly. He raised his brow and Annie felt her cheeks burn.

"I meant to thank you," she said quickly, crossing her arms, and smiling up at him, "for inviting me. I was going to look for you." Brady smiled, his eyes lingering on her for a few seconds longer than warranted, before he looked behind her.

"Not giving the 100th's newest pilot too much trouble, huh?" he asked, seemingly to mainly look at Major Egan, who, when she glanced over her shoulder, smirked proudly and gave a bow.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he offered, as Brady stepped to her side, with a smile.

"C'mon, let's get you a drink."

[ashes-2-ashes57cba]

The Clone Wars: The Bad Batch

Part 1 of the Clone Wars Bad Batch arc with my OC: Specter! Hope you stick around and keep reading! (This has been edited, thoroughly)

“I’ve heard mixed things about these guys.”

“They have a 100% success rate.” Jesse and Kix conversed as Rex and Cody exited the dormitory. 

Their mission? Infiltrate the Cyber Center on Anaxes and retrieve whatever was rendering the Grand Army of the Republic’s attack patterns completely ineffective. 

“It’s not that they win, it’s how they win that worries me,” Jesse said. 

“Repeat, coming in hot on platform TT-3-9-7.” An announcement over the P. A. system caught the clones’ attention just as an Omicron-class attack shuttle came into view, rapidly approaching the landing strip. All personnel scrambled to get out of the way as it roughly landed, sending loose crates flying away. “Clear the airfield! Clear the airfield!” the clone over the P.A. warned. The shuttle came to a stop only a few meters away from Rex, Cody, Kix, and Jesse, kicking up a cloud of dust. 

“So, why haven’t I heard of this squad?” Rex asked the commander, already second guessing his decision. 

“Experimental unit Clone Force 99. They’re defective clones with, uh,” Cody paused to look for the right description, “desirable mutations.�� 

“99, eh? Nice touch,” Rex commented, remembering the old clone.

“They call themselves, ‘The Bad Batch’,” Cody crossed his arms. With a track record like theirs, Cody knew they were the clear choice for this mission. 

Stairs lowered from the ship and the five members of the Bad Batch exited; the tallest and biggest one was the first to take off his helmet. 

“The cavalry has arrived!” he cheered in a big booming voice. Jesse and Kix exchanged looks— he certainly didn’t look like a regular clone. The Bad Batch approached the group, two more of them removed their helmets: one with long brown hair and a tattoo covering half his face, and the other with a longer face and short gray hair, complete with a toothpick stuck in his scowl. 

“These guys are clones?” Kix murmured. Another Batcher took his helmet off: he had goggles and an inquisitive expression. “They don’t look like clones to me.” 

The smallest clone in the group caught Rex’s attention. Of the batch, he was the only one who hadn’t removed his helmet. Rex couldn’t quite place just what was so curious about the way this mystery-clone carried himself and the odd fit of his armor. 

“Sergeant. Good to see you again,” Cody greeted.

“You too, sir.”

Cody turned to the rest of his group. “This is Hunter.”

“Sorry we’re late, Commander. We were putting down an insurrection on Yalbec Prime when your comm came in. Had a few unforeseen… complications,” Hunter explained, side-eyeing the big guy, who laughed in response.

“Ever fought a male Yalbec?” he asked, deciding to focus on Jesse.

“Um… No. Can’t say that I have,” he stammered. 

“You’re lucky! Only way to kill ‘em is with one of these,” the brute said, pulling out a large knife. Jesse gulped.

“That’s right. Wrecker here cut off the queen’s stinger while she was still alive. That’s why all those Yalbec males tried to eat us,” Hunter said. 

“Ah, technically they were trying to mate with us,” the one with the goggles spoke up. “And, for your information, the stinger of a Yalbec Queen is a delicacy on some planets.”

“They call him Tech,” Cody said. 

“Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours. Crosshair, on the other hand,” Hunter started to say, pointing back to the scowling clone, “is not much of a conversationalist, but when you have to hit a precise target from ten klicks, Crosshair’s your man.” Crosshair shifted his toothpick, analyzing the four clones through squinted eyes. “And finally, Specter— where’s Specter?” Hunter looked around. The smallest clone was out of sight. 

When did that happen? Rex wondered, realizing he hadn’t registered the trooper’s exit. 

He reappeared, tapping Kix on the shoulder and handing him the scanner he’d left back at the barracks. 

“What in the…” he took the datapad apprehensively. The trooper wordlessly went to stand next to Hunter, with his arms crossed and head tilted. The Sergeant chuckled.

“Specter, here, is our secondary sniper and assassin when we need it: covert, fast, and light-footed. I think the sprint record was about—oh, what was it again?” he paused to ask, although Rex could tell this was nothing more than an opportunity for the pair to show off. Specter said nothing, only holding up five fingers. “Right, fifty kilometers an hour, with reflexes just as fast,” Hunter finished.

Rex, Jesse, and Kix tried to hide their amazement while Cody shook his head and smiled. 

“We playin’ the long game, Specter?” he asked. The soldier nodded while the other Batchers smirked. It made the other two somewhat uneasy.

“So, Commander,” Hunter turned back to Cody, “what kind of suicide mission do you have for us this time?” 

“Let’s get going first. We’ll brief you on the way,” Cody instructed, leading the other eight clones to the awaiting gunship. 

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

It was cramped in the gunship as they flew over the forests of Anaxes. Though the one they called Specter still hadn’t removed his helmet, Jesse could feel he was being watched through the dim red light. 

“What are you looking at?”

“We don’t usually work with regs,” the one called Crosshair chimed in before Specter could speak, flicking his toothpick at him. 

“Regs?” Jesse scoffed, shifting towards the pair before Hunter blocked his way. 

“He’s talking about regular clones. It’s nothing personal.” Specter shrugged behind him, seeming to share a look with Crosshair. Jesse wasn’t sure he liked this bunch.

“Hey now, We’re all on the same team, so cut the attitude and listen up,” Cody announced. The clones stood at attention, even Specter from their small spot in the side. “Here’s the mission: Our target is this Cyber Center,” Cody pulled up a holographic display of the complex. “It’s the brains of the entire Separatist campaign here on Anaxes.”

“I could demolish that with one hand. Yeah!” Wrecker jeered. Everyone rolled their eyes.

“This isn’t a demo job, Wrecker. It’s strictly a retrieval operation,” Cody reminded. 

“Incoming fire!” the pilot inside the ship yelled. Their presence had clearly not gone unnoticed. Everyone inside was thrown around as blaster bolts struck the sides of the ship and the pilot attempted evasive maneuvers out of the canyon. The front of the ship was struck by a blast, and the team braced themselves for a crash into the canyon.

“We’re going down!” Wrecker yelled, almost excitedly. The gunship scraped against the canyon wall before sliding along the bottom, finally lurching to a stop. 

Amid the smoke and rubble, Wrecker used his strength to help his fellow troopers out of the crash. “We always get shot down when we travel with regs,” he said, almost teasing.

His comment went unheard as Kix spotted Cody still stuck underneath the gunship.

“Cody!” he cried, rushing to his aid. “Help! He’s trapped. We have to do something.”

“I’ll get him,” Rex rushed forward.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hunter stopped him. “Easy, Captain. Wrecker, get him out.” The brute nodded and cracked his knuckles.

“Get back,” he said. Everyone stepped back as he approached the ship.

“This is ridiculous! He’s gonna need help to get Cody out of there,” Kix complained. Crosshair chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s gonna get the gunship out of there, not Cody,” he explained, pointing with his toothpick. 

And just like he said, Wrecker, with his helmet back on his head, pushed the gunship over and out of the way; he carried Cody out from the wreckage and to the rest of the group. 

“Boom,” Wrecker quipped, just before the gunship exploded behind him. Cody wheezed and groaned; Wrecker put him down on the ground so Kix could scan his chest.

“He has internal damage. I can cut the pain, but he needs help fast,” he announced.

“We all need help,” Crosshair drawled, noticing a large force of battle droids approaching their position. “That blast gave away our position.” Hunter gave a short laugh.

“I thought getting shot down gave away our position,” he said with a smirk.

“Everyone, find cover. We’ll hold this position and let them come to us,” Rex ordered.

“I don’t think so, Captain. That’s not our style. We prefer going to them,” Hunter enunciated, pointing defiantly at the oncoming droids. “Bad Batch, Plan 82: Shockwave!” he ordered, putting on his helmet, his team followed suit. Wrecker hoisted up a large piece of the metal wreckage. “Let’s get to work.” The group ran towards the battle droids.

“Blast them!” a droid commanded. Wrecker’s piece of debris was placed in front of the team, acting as cover from the barrage of fire so they could keep advancing. Tech, Hunter, Crosshair, and Specter fired at the droids as they went. 

“Specter, watch our flank,” Hunter commanded.

“Copy,” the soldier’s voice was distorted. What must’ve been a faulty modulator made whatever Specter said next completely unintelligible. 

As the droids grew closer, Specter attached a heavily modified barrel to the end of his blaster, converting it into what could best be described as a shotgun. 

He loaded the weapon, inserting projectile shells into the ammo chamber, fired, and as the shells impacted against the droids, they exploded; weaponized plasma launched and propelled the inner pellets outward in a spray of death. It was like a firework as droids who were caught up in the blast were destroyed.

After the Bad Batch had gained some distance, Wrecker planted the makeshift shield down, allowing for Tech to peek out and scan the droids with his goggles. 

“45. Mark 151,” Tech relayed to Hunter.

“45. Mark 151,” he copied, pulling out an EMP grenade and throwing it high into the air. Crosshair shot it as it fell, disabling a group of droids. The team advanced again, Wrecker planted the shield once more.

“75. Mark 357.”

“75. Mark 357.” Tech and Hunter, respectively, relayed. Hunter threw the grenade, this time at a lower angle, but a battle droid had caught it.

“What the…?” the droid began to say before Crosshair shot the EMP, desemating an even larger group of battle droids. Spider droids entered the fray, firing near the Bad Batch as they moved forward.

“Spider droids. Specter, they’re all yours. We’ll cover you,” Hunter said, handing Specter his vibro-knife. Wrecker shifted the piece of metal, allowing Specter to speed through the rest of the battle droids, stabbing a few as he went by, towards the spider droid, dodging as it took shots at him. But the clone was too fast for the droid to accurately aim. He was soon in front of the spider droid, stabbing its eye and shutting it down. Then using the knife as a handle, Specter hoisted themselves up and reconfigured their blaster back to its original form before unleashing a rapid-fire setting on the second spider droid, completely mutilating it. The rest of the Bad Batch had destroyed the remaining battle droids and advanced to Specter’s position. 

“Any more? Come on!” Wrecker cheered in victory. Specter hopped down from the spider droid and handed Hunter his knife, who twirled it back into its sheath. With all of the droids defeated, the Bad Batch went to regroup among the broken droid pieces. The other clones made their way over, with Kix supporting Cody.

“That was some show you put on just now,” Rex complimented.

Hunter took off his helmet and nodded, “Just doing our job, Captain.” Behind him, Wrecker was playing with a dead droid head, laughing.

“Hey look, Crosshair, this little clanker likes you,” he teased, waving it in his squadmate’s face.

“Grow up, Wrecker,” the sniper said grumpily. Meanwhile, Tech and Specter were leaning close, observing something on his forearm monitor.

“Yes, your damage efficiency has increased since we made those last modifications. All in part, of course, to my engineering expertise,” Tech practically bragged. Specter silently turned his head toward him. Tech somehow understood the clone’s hidden expression and quickly modified his statement. “Fine. Our engineering expertise,” Tech sighed, giving Specter the proper credit; he nodded his head in triumph.

“We should move out before reinforcements arrive. Our position has been compromised,” Rex said, motioning for everyone to follow him out of the canyon.

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

The clones had their camp set up in the forest, Rex tended to Cody, Hunter investigated the ground nearby, and the other 6 were gathered around a warm light source. Jesse sighed.

“So, I get what makes the other Batchers unique, but what’s so special about Hunter?” he wondered out loud.

“He can put up with the other four,” Kix joked. 

“He was engineered with heightened senses,” Tech stated, kneeling down and warming his hands by the light, “A place like the Cyber Center, Hunter can feel the electromagnetic frequencies from anywhere on the planet.”

“And here I thought we were smart just using a holomap,” Jesse jeered, elbowing Kix.

“Well, maps can be wrong. Hunter never is,” the Batcher said, turning to look at his Sergeant as he stood up. 

Cody groaned, still in pain, catching everyone’s attention.

“Hang in there, Cody.” Rex encouraged his comrade. The captain stood up and went toward the group. “Listen up. We have to move out,” he commanded.

“Commander Cody’s in no position to move,” Crosshair said, stepping forward and removing his toothpick.

“Already called in Evac. Kix will stay with Cody until it arrives.” Rex indicated toward the medic, who nodded in agreement over his role. “I’m in charge now, and I’ve got a plan to get into that Cyber Center.” The sniper stepped even closer, challenging the reg.

“If your plans are so good, why did Commander Cody have to call us in?” he sneered. Wrecker moved closer too, sensing a fight. But it was Jesse who shot up and got in Crosshair’s face, pointing at him.

“You can’t talk to Captain Rex like that!”

“Says who?” Wrecker grumbled, almost with glee; he lifted Jesse up by the throat into the air, who immediately started to flail.

“Put him down!” Rex ordered. Kix went to intervene, but Crosshair pushed him away.

“Stay out of it,” he hissed. 

“Hey, watch it!” Kix pushed back; the two began to wrestle with each other.

“Uh, guys, come on,” Tech pleaded, staying out of the fight. Finally, Specter stood up and growled, taking off his—her— helmet and marching toward the chaos.

“That’s enough!” she shouted, using her helmet to hit Wrecker on the side of his head, knocking him off balancing and forcing him to release Jesse. She stalked over to Crosshair and Kix, grabbing the sniper by his ear. Her free hand reached up to pull down Wrecker by his ear too. The boys cried in pain and struggled in her grip. The regs caught their breath and watched the scene unfold.

“I swear, your egos are going to get us Court Martialed! Have you ever thought that maybe–just maybe–if you’d humble yourselves for one mission, it would go off without a hitch?! Heh, it’s no wonder the regs don’t like us.” she scolded. Tech sat back down, trusting his teammate to handle it. “If you would stop provoking fights, we wouldn’t need to keep cleaning up our own mess. Not like you clean up anyway,” Specter mumbled the last remark. They went to protest.

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” She pulled them closer, they grunted then silenced themselves. “Think about this very carefully; would you rather deal with me, or Hunter?” The boys grimaced and looked at each other, before deciding to hold their hands up in surrender. Specter huffed and dropped them, picking up her helmet. “Honestly, Crosshair, I’m almost embarrassed to call you my twin,” she mumbled, glaring at the sniper. He only frowned and turned away. “Thanks to you idiots, I’ve lost my bet with Tech. I’ll pay you once we get back to the Marauder,” she turned to the goggled clone who merely gave a triumphant thumbs up. 

The regs were still shocked at the presence of the woman. Her skin was fair and eyes were brown, chestnut hair was styled into a braided halo, although a few strands had fallen into her face. She may have been small and feminine, but she held herself with confidence and strength they had only seen in their other brethren. 

“What?” Jesse was the first to vocalize, running a hand over his bruised neck.

“Oh! Yeah, Tech and I had a bet to see if I could go the whole mission without giving myself away,” Specter explained, her voice turning sweet and jovial, compared to being full of disdain at her squadmates. This was the ‘long game’ Cody had mentioned before. 

“Not that. You’re… uh,” Kix tried to find the words.

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” Wrecker teased. Crosshair smacked him on the arm. Specter only laughed and gave a bow.

“The Kaminoans wanted a clone that was fast and flexible, they got me and they’re stuck with me. These idiots are also stuck with me,” she gestured over her shoulder to her team. “And now, you guys are stuck with me too!” Specter pointed at the regs and winked. Hunter came up to the group, saving Jesse, Rex, and Kix from any more awkwardness.

“If you’re all done, let’s cut the chatter and finish what we started. We’ll do it your way, Captain,” he said to Rex, whose stoic expression returned. “For Commander Cody.”

“Okay. Let’s gear up and move out.”

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

The clones carefully moved through the forest the following morning; a tower rose in the distance and the clones assessed it under nearby cover.

“Not our primary target,” Rex observed.

“It’s an outpost. Should we take it?” Hunter asked. They saw some droids guarding the entrance of it.

“Probably easier than going around,” the Captain shrugged.

“Alright. What are your orders? We pick ‘em off from the treeline, one-by-one?” 

“Actually, I was thinking we’d take a page from your book. Rush them head-on,” Rex said with a smirk. The Sergeant chuckled.

“I like your style.”

“Hunter, that’s our style,” Specter piped up, reloading her rifle. 

“Yeah, I’m still getting used to that,” Rex mumbled.

The droids remained blissfully unaware of the crew’s presence, maintaining their position. That was, until one was shot down.

“Clones! Get them!” a battle droid shouted, pointing at the oncoming force emerging from the treeline. Firing erupted from both sides, but the clones overtook the droids, making their way to the tower elevator. Wrecker and Specter stayed groundside to provide cover for the others going up the tower. More droids awaited at the top.

“Hey, you’re not authorize-” a droid began before he was shot down. The team made quick work of them, defeating them all just as Wrecker and Specter made it up.

“Is it over already? Aw, man!” he grumbled and pouted, taking off his helmet. The rest of the clones followed suit. 

“Not bad, for a reg,” Hunter complimented Rex. Tech approached a nearby console and sat down.

“All right, there it is. The Cyber Center,” Rex pointed to a building out the window. Specter whistled in amazement.

“Yeah, that would have been a fun demo job,” she said to herself, earning a few worried looks.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Wrecker exclaimed in agreement.

“It looks like the Cyber Center itself has minimal guards, about 30 droids,” Tech reported, looking at the data from the console. “Oh… wait. Wait! I got a massive signal coming in,” he warned, widening the range of the detection signal. “A whole platoon of droids is headed this way.”

“Someone’s noticed our handiwork back at the crash site,” Hunter grumbled.

“Yeah. Make sure you keep an eye on those incoming Separatist forces. I wanna know when they reach this outpost,” Rex ordered Tech.

“You got it, Cap.”

“We gotta move swiftly,” Rex looked to the rest of the group. 

“There’s some speeder bikes down there. Think we can pull off a pincer maneuver, Sarge? Flank them from the back?” Specter nodded to the bikes. Hunter and Rex smiled at her plan.

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

At the Cyber Center, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech rode the speeder bikes around the back of the center, then hopped off the bikes and slid down an incline, leading to the building. Rex, Jesse, and Specter approached the heavily guarded front.

“Do you know what’s going on?” one battle droid asked another.

“Maybe it’s another drill-” it was cut off as the regs and Specter ambushed them. 

“Is everyone in position?” Rex asked into his comm. Jesse and Specter continued to shoot down droids and advance on the center.

“Affirmative,” Hunter answered for him, Tech, and Wrecker.

“Affirmative,” said Crosshair, who had taken a sniping position on a nearby cliff.

“Captain,” Tech spoke up, “you wanted to know when those Separatist forces breached the outpost.” He looked at a tracker on his wrist monitor; red dots, representing battle droids, surrounded the outpost. “Well, they’re getting there just about now.”

Specter took aim with her reconfigured sniper rifle, shooting down a droid talking with Admiral Trench. It signaled Jesse and Rex to also open fire on the droids. Rex threw a grenade, taking out a large group of them, also taking cover behind a pile of crates. Crosshair also assisted, taking out droids from a distance. 

“All units to the front door!” a battle droid from the back entrance commanded. The droids ran towards the front, leaving the back entrance wide open for the rest of the Bad Batch. Tech began working on opening the door.

“Hmm. This is a delicate operation,” he observed. Wrecker kicked the door open.

“Boom! Ha ha, you take too long.” Tech shook his head as his squadmate pried the door open. The team shot down more droids as they made their way further into the center. They reached a command station, quickly blasting the droids inside.

“Tech, get to work on these computers. We’ll go get the regs and Specter,” Hunter ordered. Tech did so while Hunter and Wrecker went to the front door. Meanwhile, Rex, Jesse, and Specter were making their way closer to the entrance, pushing the battle droids back until they were ambushed from behind by Hunter and Wrecker. With most of the droids destroyed, Rex, Jesse, and Specter approached the entrance and joined the other two in holding their position.

“What took you so long, Wrecker?” Specter teased.

“Hey, this is a ‘delicate operation’,” he replied. A loud noise caused them to notice a large droid transport approaching them. “Better get in there, Cap,” Wrecker advised. Rex ran back inside while the other four held their position and fired relentlessly at the deployed droids. Specter reconfigured her blaster to its shotgun form. 

“I have got to get me one of those,” Jesse commented.

Back inside, Rex found Tech working on the computer.

“Okay, I’m in. What am I looking for?”

“Here’s the algorithm,” Rex handed him the chip, taking off his helmet. “You’re looking for a program using this sequence.” Tech plugged in the chip and began working.

“Found it,” he announced after a moment. Holograms popped up above the table. “This is strange. It’s not a program. It’s a live signal from another planet… Skako Minor.”

“A live signal?” Rex wondered. 

Meanwhile outside, the battle droids continued to advance on the four clones, who were backed behind some crates. 

“Crosshair, we’re gonna need a lift,” Hunter said into his communicator. 

The sniper looked around for transportation and found a speeder, guarded by only a few droids.

“Not gonna be a problem,” Crosshair reported.

Inside the complex—

“Here it is. This is audible,” Tech said, finding a way to tap into the signal he found traced. 

“Patch it through. I want to hear it,” Rex ordered. Tech played the audio.

“What is that?” he wondered. They both listened intently for a moment. “It sounds almost… almost human.” Rex’s eyes were wide.

“It can’t be…”

“We gotta go, now!” Hunter ordered the other three. One by one they slipped inside, providing cover fire for each other as they began to make their way through the halls.

“Tech, find out who’s sending that signal. Ask who that is,” Rex said. Tech typed something into the console. The audio signal began to reply, repeating its answer.

“CT-1409.” 

The Captain went pale. “I… I don’t believe it.” The other four clones appeared in the room.

“We’re gone. Rex, let’s go,” Hunter said, urgently. Rex didn’t move, even as Tech brushed past him. “Rex, now!” He snapped out of it and put his helmet on, joining the others in escape, still pursued by droids. More droids waited for them outside, but Crosshair arrived in time with the transport speeder, pausing just long enough for all of them to hop on before they sped away.

Silence was heavy in the transport until the crew was safe and out of sight in the wilderness. It was then Tech chose to ask Rex a question. 

“That number, Captain, what did it mean?”

“CT-1409,” Rex paused, “that was Echo’s number. He’s alive.”

OMG thank you so much if you've read this far. This is the first time I've published anything anywhere so I'm really proud of what I've accomplished and really hope you (the dearest reader) continue to enjoy my story and OC! Stay tuned for more of Specter

[leftoverenvy]

Tastes Like Sugar (ch. 29)

Summary: India Mae, or Indi, is a music major, struggling to pay bills, tuition, work, and make good grades.  Emily Prentiss is a BAU profiler, as well as a DC socialite thanks to her huge family fortune.  The two enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement: Emily will pay for Indi's school if Indi accompanies Emily to her social functions for a few months, posing as her girlfriend.  As weeks go by, the lines between their arrangement and their true feelings start to blur.  But money can't buy love, right?

Pairing: India Mae Banks x Emily Prentiss; OC x Emily Prentiss

Warnings: smut; sugar baby relationships; age gap (16 years - but all over 18)

Word Count: 2.8 k

Read on Wattpad | Ao3 | Previous Chapters

Taglist: @ssa-sapphic 🧸; @5raysofsunshine 🌮; @reidselle 🦭; @swiftfiles 🐝💚; @gaelic-symphony 🎻 ; @sadgirlml 🌻💌; @hotchs-bitch 🦆 ; @multiverse-mxdness ; @madelineleong ; @scorpsik 🎨 ; @heidss

A/n: Wow, I am so so sorry that it's been so long since an update.  I've finally found my joy in writing again.  If you're still following this story, I cannot tell you how much your patience and loyalty means to me.  Enjoy <3

Chapter 29 - Wayward

My summer with Emily was like a dream. She had only been gone on two cases, spending more regular hours in the office. We didn't comment on her unusually light case load for fear it would jinx it. I loved the time we were able to spend together with a more normal schedule. I enjoyed twisting myself around her while we watched movies on the couch. I relished the way she made me feel as she watched me play the piano. I yearned for the way she touched me every night.

Even though she had been gone for a case in Alaska for the last week, I still counted it a blessing to have had so many weeks uninterrupted by calls away. "Hi angel!" I startled, jumping halfway off the couch.

Once I had caught my breath, I smiled widely and responded, "Emily!" She flopped down next to me on the couch, pulling me in for a proper kiss. "Missed you," I mumbled between kisses. Once our frenzy had slowed down, I whispered against her neck, "I have something for you."

"That's funny, me too!" She whipped out a keychain with a photo of the Northern Lights in it.

I chuckled, sitting up to grab it and examine it more closely. "This is actually very pretty, Em. I thought these were supposed to be cheesy."

"I thought the Alaskan landscape deserved better. It was gorgeous up there; I wish you could have seen it."

"Thank you, babe. I love it." She kissed my cheek, tugging me closer.

"Now," she started, "What's this about a present for me?" I smiled bashfully, suddenly nervous to play the song I had finished for her. "I thought I was supposed to bring you presents."

"I didn't say it was a present. It's not a big deal. Just a lil something."

"Mmhm," she hummed skeptically, her eyes narrowing. "Show me." Something in Emily's glittering eyes told me she was excited by the prospect of receiving a gift. When was the last time someone had gotten her something that she really wanted?

I reluctantly left her arms and stood up. Butterflies swarmed my stomach, nerves overtaking me. This was a bad idea. I should have recorded her song and let her listen to it on her own. I felt like the biggest idiot on the planet – she was going to hate this.

"I've uh," I nervously sat down at the bench, "Been composing this summer." I had worked all summer on this composition when Emily was out of the house.

"I know, baby. You've done some really great pieces."

"Yeah, well." I swallowed thickly. I tried to think of what to say next.  I thought you deserved one to show you how much I love you.  Instead, I whispered, "This one's called 'Emily's Song.'" Before she could say anything, I started playing.

As soon as I pressed down on the keys, my hands knew what to do. I didn't need to think about it, muscle memory controlled my fingers. I felt myself start to tear up playing, knowing just how much love I had woven into this song. I wished I was brave enough to tell her. Embarrassed by how emotional I was, I begged my eyes to suck the tears back in, certain Emily would be appreciative but not emotional. 

As I started the last part of the song, I knew that I would never love anyone like I loved Emily Prentiss. But the thought terrified me. I was only twenty-two – what did I know about love? And how could she feel even a fraction of what I felt for her?

When the final notes of the song rang through the air, I couldn't bring myself to look at Emily, far too embarrassed. I heard her sniff and then push herself off the couch. Another beat passed and I felt her arms wrap around my shoulder. "That was perfect, Indi. Thank you." She pressed a kiss to my temple, her lips lingering longer than usual. "I mean it, angel. No one's ever written a song for me before. It was absolutely beautiful."

Her lips trailed down the side of my face, lingering at the corner of my mouth and until I turned my head to kiss her back. She deepened the kiss and trailed her hands down my body to show me how much she liked the song.

- - -

Emily and I fell back into our morning routine as if we hadn't broken it during the summer. I made us breakfast as she packed her go bag for work. We ate in silence, as she read on her iPad. Breaking the quiet, she asked, "Are you ready for your first day back?"

"I guess," I responded morosely. "I liked our summer together. I liked being able to focus on music and you. No math or English essays to worry about." Emily chuckled at that, moving her dishes to the sink. 

"At least you have a good first recital piece ready."

Puzzled, I asked, "Which one?"

"My song," she said, beaming with pride.

I narrowed my eyes with uncertainty. "You really think it's good enough for recital?"

"Yes I do," she affirmed. And her voice was so confident, it left no room for objection. "This will be your best semester yet!" she said positively. 

"But how can I be expected to do homework when you're home if your case load keeps up like this?"

"Are you pushing for me to go away on a case?" she asked with a smirk.

"Absolutely not!" I protested. "I'm just saying, it will be hard to concentrate knowing you're home."

"We'll manage, angel." She kissed me on the forehead and moved to holster her gun to her hip. My heart skipped a beat staring at her; she made everything look sexy. "I'm off to work now. I'll text you if I'm called away." She leaned down to kiss me briefly. "I want to hear all about how your first day goes! I'll call you if I'm away, or I'll see you tonight."

"Bye, Em." When the door to the garage closed softly behind her, I sighed. I wanted to get to campus early so I could get a good seat in class. I quickly did our dishes, grabbed my backpack, and hurried out the door.

But life had a funny way of balancing itself out. I had had the best summer of my life and was already disappointed to have to go back to classes, just to receive the worst welcome back to school present: my car broke down. I called Emily in tears, worried that I was going to start the semester off on the wrong foot with my first professor.

I dialed Emily's number with shaky hands, feeling the passing cars shake mine as they zoomed past me on the highway. I wasn't sure how Emily understood me through my hiccups and tears when I told her I was stuck on the shoulder of the highway.

"Shhh. Calm down, baby. It's going to be okay, I'll make all the arrangements. As soon as we're off the phone, I'll call a tow company to come get it and take it to the shop." I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, tears abating, thankful, as always, for Emily.

She continued, "In the meantime, baby, just drive the Lexus – the keys are by the door." I felt my heart rate elevate at the thought. "Or, if you'd prefer, you can Uber over to Quantico and pick up the Jag."  Pick up the Jag.  She said it so casually, as if driving one of her very expensive cars did not cause me extreme anxiety.

"No I do not want to "pick up the Jag!" Emily, what if I crash your car?!" I felt my face go hot at the thought, palms starting to sweat in anxiety. "You love all of these cars and they're so expensive and I'm not on your insurance!" I rushed out.

"Breathe Indi! It's just a car. And you don't have one right now. Please, take whatever car you want. Or Uber everywhere – I'll put more money in your account for it. Is that what you'd prefer?"

"No!" I nearly shouted. I took another deep breath, trying to keep in perspective that this wasn't Emily's fault and she was just trying to help. "I-" I exhaled into the phone. "I'm sorry," I deflated, "It wasn't fair to blow up at you like that. I appreciate you letting me drive the Lexus." 

Sensing the storm was over, Emily said, "I'm only sorry I can't see you drive it." I could almost hear the smirk in her voice. "I'm certain you'd look damn sexy in that car."

I chuckled and swiped at the remaining tears, embarrassed I had cried so much in front of Emily. "We'll see if you still say that when I ding your Lexus," I half joked.

"Like I said," her tone more serious, "It's just a car, angel." I paused, unsure what else to say. Her voice was calming though – she calmed me. "Look, I've gotta run. I promise I'll send a tow truck, but Uber home and grab the Lexus so you aren't late for class, okay?"

"Okay," I said softly, tears welling back up in my eyes.

"I'll call you later with an update."

"Bye…" And the line went dead.

- - -

Throughout my first class, my thoughts fixated on my car and how I was going to pay for everything. Even though Emily had been paying for most everything the last few months, I wasn't sure I'd be able to afford whatever the mechanic's bill was going to be. 

As my thoughts contemplated every little thing that could go wrong with my car, I missed everything my professor said. I was immensely thankful the first day was always spent going over the syllabus. I'd just have to make sure to read that thoroughly later tonight.

Over the lunch hour, Emily called. "Car's toast and probably not worth fixing."  So much for easing into it, I thought. I sighed deeply. Of course life would throw this at me. Things with Emily were just too good for everything else to be going right. 

"Okay…" I sighed. I mentally calculated how long I could go without a car while I built my savings up again. I also braced myself for having a conversation with Emily later about asking to go back to work; that battle wouldn't be won easily. But how else was I supposed to take on a car payment?

"I'll see you tonight, okay baby? I'm going to make sure to come home early."

- - -

Later that evening, once classes had finished, I arrived home. I was excited by the prospect of Emily coming home early, and I eagerly awaited the garage door opening to see if her car was in the garage. Once the door had raised fully, I counted three cars in the garage…except, whose car is that?  In my spot, where my car should have been, was parked a shiny, new Audi. Panic swelled inside of me. I didn't want to rush to conclusions, but Emily didn't drive Audis. In fact, I had told her it was my dream car. But surely she wouldn't have irrationally bought me a car without thinking about it first.

Not seeing the Jag parked in her spot, I quickly dialed her number as I walked through the door. "Do you like it?!" she asked excitedly.

"So I'm not crazy?" I spit out, trying to control my rising temper. "You did buy me a car?"

"Yes! Do you like it?" she repeated.

"Emily…" I said in warning. 

"Don't make this a big deal, India. I swear to god, don't. This isn't a big deal."

Her flippant tone fanned the flames of my anger. "It's a car, Emily. An expensive one at that." Suddenly, Emily's cavalier attitude on spending rubbed me the wrong way. I had never cared what anyone did with their money; it was theirs to do with as they pleased. But to hear firsthand how dismissive she was about such a purchase enraged me. Especially because she was wasting her money on me.

How could she not understand this? She threw money around like it was nothing. It made me feel like shit, like I was worthless. How could I ever repay someone who gave me everything? How could I ever be enough for her? I had nothing. I was nothing.

She sighed into the phone. "Can we talk about this when I get home?"

Clipped, I responded, "Great." And I hung up. Immediately, I knew I shouldn't have done that. No matter how badly she angered me, she didn't deserve to be disrespected.

I paced the living room waiting for Emily, counting out each step until I lost track. I tried to match my breathing to each tick of the clock on the wall. For forty-three minutes, I tried to calm down, anxious about our impending argument.

But no amount of mental preparation would have helped, because as soon as Emily walked through the door, we started fighting about the car.

"I don't see what the big deal is, Indi. It's a car for fuck's sake." I winced at her cursing during an argument.

"But that's exactly it, Emily! You can't understand why this is a big deal for me."

"Do you not like the car? Is that what it is? We can exchange it for any kind that you want," she offered.

"It's too much! And it wasn't part of the deal!" I shouted at her.

Shock flooded her face and she froze. Softly, almost hurt, she asked, "Do you seriously still consider this just an arrangement?" She spit the last word out as if it left a sour taste in her mouth. "You can stand there and really tell me that you still just see me as an ATM?"

"I NEVER saw you as an ATM, Emily. Of course this is more than being your sugar baby." It still didn't sit right. Rocks settled in my stomach. How could I ever get her to understand? 

"Then what? You think just because I love you that should mean my support should just stop" - she snapped her fingers - "like that?"

Our argument entirely forgotten, "You love me?" I whispered, aching at the thought of her taking it back, but sick at the thought of her really meaning it. I wouldn't allow myself to believe she meant it.

"I-" She blew out a puff of air. "Yeah." Time stopped. My breathing, my thoughts �� they all stopped. "I love you, Indi. I am so in love with you."

And for a split second, I almost accepted the car. But accepting this huge gift almost felt like I would be solidifying our original arrangement. I couldn't sort it out anymore. I was overwhelmed by it all. By how much I needed Emily. By how this had turned into something so different than the life I had pictured for myself. I didn't know who I was anymore; I had lost myself in a game of make believe.

Emily couldn't want me forever like I wanted her. Too soon she would realize that I could give her nothing in return. Only then, it would be too late for me. I would be too far gone, too far entrenched in the India Emily wanted me to be, the real Indi never to be seen again.

My eyes went huge at the thought. Who had I let Emily turn me into? Who had I become during this arrangement? And how had I lost myself so quickly? Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. This mansion felt like a collapsing, cardboard box. Emily's affection, once a warm, safe blanket around me, now felt like a noose.

Shaking my head, I turned and ran upstairs. When I came back down, bag packed, Emily hadn't moved an inch. 

I needed distance from this life – from Emily – so I could find Indi again. But who was I without Emily? It had only been six months, and already I had no idea what life would be without her. I had pretended to be what I thought Emily wanted for so long that I forgot who I was. It didn't matter, though. Because if anything was certain it was that I could never be enough for Emily. She deserved so much more than the little I could give her.

I drove quickly back into the city, to Penelope, to my real life. I knocked on the door to what used to be my home praying Penelope was there to greet me. When she opened the door, tears flooded down my face. As I walked through the door, Pen's arms around me, I couldn't help but feel unsettled. I didn't feel at home here anymore. If I didn't fit into my old life, or into Emily's, where did I belong?

Continue to next chapter

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 4 - I'm Standing on the Ashes of Who I Used To Be

| FERAL WOMAN | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 5.3k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: none | CHAPTER SUMMARY: With your solo trip to the market taking a jarring deviation from what you’d planned, you find yourself alone with Joel in his house for a moment of reprieve. The one-on-one setting grants you the opportunity to get more insight into the man who is quickly becoming something of a fascinating and commanding companion.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

Joel and Ellie’s house was much different from Susan’s. The usual tidy and bright space she kept was a far cry from the laid back atmosphere of the one you currently found yourself in. Jackets were draped on the stair banister. Boots were jumbled along the hallway baseboard. Comic books were strewn about the floor of the living room in your periphery. An empty glass sat dangerously close to the edge of the console table next to you. Susan’s mantra “a place for everything, and everything in its place” would be more of a “this is our place, so everything’s all over the place” here. It wasn’t dirty or cluttered. Just, very lived in. While it was obvious there wasn’t a lot of coming and going from Susan’s - yours and Susan’s, you mentally amended - Joel and Ellie’s home reflected the flurry of constant movement of its inhabitants.

“You can hang Tommy’s jacket on that hook over there or jus’ keep it on, whatever’s your preference. Same for boots. Kick ‘em off somewhere to your left if you want,” he signaled as he began shucking his jacket from his shoulders and hanging it on a hook.

“I didn’t take it,” you declare abruptly.

“Take it? Huh? Take what?” Joel looked up from shoving off his boots. His furrowed brow and downturned mouth signaled pure confusion at the sharp left in the conversation.

“Tommy, he gave me this. This jacket. And I can, well. As long as, until Maria can bring me- get me a new one. But I didn’t s-steal it,” you stressed.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really thinkin’ you managed to nick his favorite jacket from him,” Joel quipped with a snort. 

“Favorite?” you mumble.

You frowned and looked down to the jacket you had been wearing almost constantly since it had been lent to you. Your face twisted in displeasure at the stain along the buttons where you had spilled your drink  a few days ago. A dark tea Susan had urged you to drink. 

You weren’t usually in a situation where you had to worry about food or drink being too hot - or even warmed, for that matter - so you weren’t thinking when you raised the cup to your lips and burnt your tongue almost immediately. The tea had dribbled out from your mouth, followed by more drops sloshing from the mug. It all joined in a splotch of brown that had already ruined Tommy’s jacket. His favorite jacket.

“He’ll recover,” Joel ragged. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You brush aside the fledgling awareness that your hyperexcitability today was a showcase of your absolute lack of sensibility. Forming your own movements and thoughts felt unbearable, so you mimicked Joel’s actions and removed your jacket and boots. Joel stood with his hands firmly on his hips. The corner of his bottom lip was neatly tucked under his incisors as if in thought. Noticing you had made yourself comfortable, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight.

“I can, uh … Do you want me to sit outside? I don’t mind,” he offered.

“No. S’your house.” 

Him offering to sit outside in the cold sank into your mind like a fallen tree into a torrential river. A hard stop in your internal turmoil, shifting your refractory thoughts yet again. Although it was a considerate gesture, it only underlined the extensive accommodations you required to just fucking exist. 

You weren’t going to force him to sit outside in the cold. Not after all he had done for you today. 

“Alright. Just tryna gauge the situation. Want you to feel comfortable,” he admitted. “Know you’ve had a mornin’.”

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Couch.” You motion vaguely to the living room where you could see the open seating. A shrug of your shoulders was intended to offset the rude demand and distort it as more of a question, but Joel didn’t seem to mind your choppy communication.

He nodded and planted himself comfortably onto the far left side of the couch. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at you when you hadn’t moved. Before you could entertain your hesitations too long, you hurled your leg out to set yourself in motion towards the couch. When you rounded the right side, you were presented with yet another dilemma: where to sit. 

If you sat all the way to the right, Joel might feel offended that you wanted so much space between you. If you sat in the middle, you’d be uncomfortable. And maybe he would be, too? As usual, you were left without an obvious place where you belonged.

“Just take the other end, darlin’,” Joel drawled. 

Your eyes snapped to him. You tried to identify any impression of offense that you clearly didn’t want to sit too close to him, but there was nothing to discover except his unfazed, neutral disposition.

You turned and plopped down into the opposite corner of the couch from Joel. You tugged the lifted edges of your sleeves down in an attempt to cover your wrists. It seemed pointless to do so when your fully visible face and neck had plenty enough evidence of imparted violence, but you couldn’t eschew the way it made you feel exposed. You wanted to hide away as many parts of yourself that you could.

Joel pivoted to face you more directly, clasping his hands together loosely between his knees as he rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward. “You’n Susan gettin’ on alright?”

It was an innocent enough question. Probably just an attempt to make small talk while the two of you waited for Ellie to return. But none of that stopped the onslaught of reminders about everyone’s opinions about you. Your supposed splintery, temperamental nature. Your delicate balance between calm and chaos.

A flush of irritation swept across your cheeks. You played back Tommy and Maria’s conversation from earlier today in your mind. The heat spread to your chest, mingling with your thundering heartbeat, when you remembered how Ellie had shown up at the door to speak with Susan after the unorthodox introduction you’d had with her and Joel.

“Did you send Ellie to the house the other day?” you challenge.

Joel didn’t answer right away and instead paused to absorb your brusque charge. It was all you needed to confirm he had indeed enlisted Ellie’s surveillance of you.

“I did,” he admitted.

“I’m not going to hurt Susan,” you snip. 

A constricting sensation wrapped your lungs. Everyone assumed you were ready at a moment’s notice to harm other people. A primal defense. A ticking time bomb. You weren’t that person. 

Why did everyone think you were that kind of person?

“Huh? Hurt Susan?” Joel parotted, a perplexed inflection in his voice.

“You sent Ellie. That’s why you had her, told her– That’s why you sent Ellie. Isn’t it? Because you–you think after the other day, in the snow, that I’m– Because I’m not in my right mind, and I will hurt Susan?” you protest.

You words came out a jumbled mess, but you didn’t care. You were sticking up for yourself. Or something like that. Tommy and Maria freely discussing how much of a catastrophe you were only instigated round after round of residual anger. Each recounting amassing with the others, snowballing into a pit of fury in your gut.

“WELL?” you demand.

You ignored the bile licking at your throat as you recklessly addressed Joel, a man who could slam your head in one swift strike against the stone fireplace a few feet away and kill you instantly, if he wanted to.

 “I sent Ellie, yeah, but it wasn’t Susan I was thinkin’ we needed to check up on,” he snorted in disbelief. He glanced at your hands folded in your lap and back up to you with a frown. “You’re shaking.”

“No I’m not,” you argue immediately. The tremor in your voice was clear even to your own ears.

“Alright,” he drew the word out in a mumble, not paying any mind to your awful lying.

When he stood up without warning, you flinched with such a frenetic motion that you knocked one of the back cushions out of place and over top your legs.

“Whoa, whoa now. Hold on,” Joel implored. He took a large step away from the couch and raised his palms out and up to his shoulders. You wanted to sink into a hole in the floor. He was interacting with you like he was trying to pacify a startled animal.

“Wasn’t thinkin’. Sorry ‘bout that,” he apologized earnestly. “I was gonna get you some water. You keep lickin’ and bitin’ at your lips. Gonna bleed if you keep it up.”

Trembles wracked your entire frame as you willed yourself to sit upright and return the cushion to its rightful place along the back of the couch. “S’f-fine.”

“Do I, I mean, should I announce myself? Coming back in?” he suggested.

You shrugged and cast your eyes to the ground. Apparently you were never short on finding new ways to make yourself appear more demented and disturbed.

Heavy footsteps sounded down and back up the hallway, followed by Joel’s clear call that he was behind you and coming up on your right side. As promised, he appeared on your right-hand side and passed a full glass of water to you. You whispered a thanks and emptied its entire contents in a few, rapid gulps. Joel repeated his trip to the kitchen and his words of notice as he brought you another glass of water, which you downed a touch less voraciously this time.

You finished the last sip and turned the glass in your hands. Your stomach gurgled at the rapid ingestion of liquid with no solids present to settle it.

“Hungry?” he prodded. 

You dipped your head “yes” even though it hadn’t been that long since you ate breakfast. Usually your appetite wouldn’t build so quickly, but it was yet another thing you were coming to accept as your new normal.

“C’mon,” he instructed, turning and walking back into the kitchen. You followed with slow, gradual steps. Your nerves were still on fire from all the events of the day, and Joel’s surprise departure from the couch had set ablaze an entirely new fit of anxiety.

“Dunno what you like,” he said from behind the fridge door. He straightened and sighed, seeming dissatisfied with the offerings. He closed the fridge and opened a few cabinets. He pulled down a container that had a variety of bagged nuts and some jerky.

A little noise escaped you when you saw the jerky, and you cringed when Joel noticed. 

“Somethin’ you see? Can have whatever you want.”

“I - I would – if it would be – some, some of the jerky,” you whisper, pointing feebly to the container.

Joel didn’t hesitate to grab the packet and hand it to you. Your eyes widened as you extended your arm and carefully extracted it from his grasp. Joel sent an amused smile your way, and the thin line of your mouth twitched up at the corners in response. You opened the packet and looked back up at Joel for permission. 

“Go on,” he insisted. “Knock yourself out.” Your smile fell flat at his harmless idiom.

“Oh. Somethin’ I said?” He frowned in consideration at your shift in mood.

“It’s .. not you. It’s me. It’s my problem, I mean. You didn’t. You didn’t do anything.” You worried your bottom lip between your teeth and stared at the jerky. It was ridiculous how nervous you felt to just reach out and take a piece.

You couldn’t shake the memory of the night at the cabin. The dirty, forgotten piece of jerky on the floor underneath the cabinets. Getting caught by Sam’s men. How you didn’t get the jerky or anything else to eat, but instead you just ended up–

“I appreciate you wantin’ to spare my feelings and all, but it clearly was somethin’ I did,” he contested. “If I knew what it was, I could avoid doin’ it again.”

Your eyes met his searching gaze. Your heart jumped into your throat when you saw the sincerity he held for you. Maybe he deserved to know. He had done more than enough for you today.

If telling him the truth was all you had to do, maybe you should just do that. Return the kindness. Like you were trying to do with Susan. Give something to these people showing you kindness and help. Offering way less in return for all they were doing for you. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a rough idea of your previous living situation. Your roughed up appearance and skittish demeanor did very little to obscure the extent of the challenges you’d faced.

“Well. I-I don’t know how to. How to say it, exactly,” you confess.

And you didn’t. You were still struggling with basic small talk. How were you supposed to explain your apprehension in a way that wouldn’t be awkward or too personal? And without getting completely tongue-tied?

“Then don’t think about it. Jus’ say the first thing that comes to your head,” he suggested. 

A deep pull of air. A reaping of your determination. A categorical allotment of your trust in Joel. 

You had to try.

“When you said ‘knock yourself out’, it reminded me of the-the last time I tried to sneak a piece of jerky, because .. because I was so hungry... Sam didn’t feed me. And thirsty. He was asleep. Drunk. I snuck. Wasn’t roped to the bed. I got out. Got out.”

Your voice became more uneven the further you got into recounting that night.

“And they- they had dropped on the floor– the jerky, a piece on the floor. But they were asleep. The men. I thought. Distracted because I was hungry and thirsty. And. It was- but they caught me. That’s how I ended up … that’s how I got my…,” you trailed, gesturing towards your cheek when your words failed you. 

You blinked a few times as you processed how amazing it felt to have just managed to get most of that out without tripping over every other word.

When you focused back on Joel, the unbridled rage in his face made you freeze. He looked dangerous. 

“M’sorry,” he gritted, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Not mad at you,” he assured you, picking up on your trepidation at his incensed state.

“Just … Makes my blood boil. That somebody did that to you.” 

Your eyes flitted down to Joel’s fist clenching and unclenching. Rather than feeling frightened, the tight spot in your chest loosened ever so slightly.

“Can’t imagine…how anyone could do that.. to you…” He shook his head in angry jerks. 

You were secretly pleased that you weren’t the only one who had trouble expressing difficult feelings and thoughts. Maybe Joel was someone who understood how hard it was for you to just get things out there in a way others could understand. 

His eyes snapped open. His expression was still furious, but didn’t hold the same lethal bite from before.

“Fuck ‘em,” he bit out in a humorless laugh. “Glad Tommy killed that piece of shit. Glad they all got their shit wrecked up on that mountain. Bunch of dumbasses couldn’t even keep a low profile. Bound to die sooner or later, so fuckin’ stupid. Deserved worse than they got, though. Wish they woulda suffered more.” 

You stared in wonder at Joel’s circling thoughts and felt little prickles of exhilaration blooming over your skin at the way he had responded to the circumstances you had endured. It sent a thrill up your spine so forceful you shivered slightly.

“I… Me, too,” you agreed.

“You’re gonna eat as much fuckin’ jerky as you want, you understand? And you’re takin’ that with you when Ellie gets back with your food. Keep it in your room, eat it whenever the hell you want to,” he demanded, pointing a stern finger at the packet in your hand.

“Okay,” you breathe. A wide grin rearranged your entire face into an expression of fiendish delight. You felt a surge of adrenaline over Joel’s impassioned appeal to your wellbeing and the sheer potency of his defense on your behalf.

He huffed a small laugh through his nose at your impish expression and seemed to shift away from the anger directed at the monsters in your history. 

You sat in the kitchen together as you nibbled at your jerky. Joel helped himself to a piece, and you sat in a comfortable silence until Ellie returned with the groceries for you and Susan.

“Here ya go,” she puffed with a smile as she dropped the bags onto the table. “Ooooh, jerky!” She nabbed a piece beside your hand, and you felt a rush of pride when you didn’t even flinch. Your lips knit together as you tried to contain your self-conscious but elated smile.  Joel grinned at you, noticing your reaction and making the connection to its catalyst.

Your efforts to contain your glee dissolved, and you directed your proud smile towards the table. Maintaining eye contact was too much with these kinds of strong reactions you were fielding. Sometimes you just had to look away to help level yourself.

Even the good moments like this inundated you with thoughts and feelings that needed to be processed - just like the blanket Susan was making you. It would have to wait until tonight for you to mull it over.

As if he had a front row seat to your inner workings, Joel announced he would help to carry the food over to your house. He snatched the bag of jerky from Ellie, who promptly let out a, “Hey what the fuck, man?!” You snickered quietly at her accusation that held no real hostility.

“Well well well, glad to see somebody’s feeling better,” she chirped and jutted her chin at you. You shrugged once into your shoulder but didn’t shy away from her assessment.

“Shut up, Ellie,” Joel grumbled.

“Hey, come back over some time! It’s so fucking boring with just Joel around,” she heckled, twisting her way to Joel’s side when he tried blocking her off from you.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbled theatrically, but you caught the way he held back a smirk.

“Oh. Oka- Yes. Def-Yes,” you titter. The blush on your cheeks wasn’t from anger this time, instead a giddy relief that you somehow hadn’t managed to drive these people away from you. Even your fluctuations between every point on the spectrum of human emotion at a moment’s notice hadn’t been too much for them. They seemed to just take it in stride. They seemed to handle it better than you did, if you were being honest with yourself.

When Joel walked you back, refusing to let you carry a single thing, you worked up the nerve to discuss something with him that had been weighing on you.

“Hey. Did you … the other day. With the snow. And everything,” you rambled. “Did you say .. to Tommy and Maria? Say anything to them?”

“No,” he replied. You paused in surprise at his answer. You had been so certain he must have gone to tell them all about your erratic behavior.

“No?” you repeat. 

“None of their business,” he asserted. “And none of today is their business, either.”

You took a moment to digest the meaning of his words. He hadn’t told anyone about your first meeting and how bizarre it was. He wasn’t going to say anything to anyone about today. Your attention shifted to your front door only a stride away and then back to Joel.

Seeming to understand your unasked question, he added, “And Susan doesn’t need to know all your business, either.”

Your hunched shoulders relaxed, and you closed your eyes as you culled a full breath into your lungs. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You just keep on. You’ll be okay,” he asserted in that same confident tone that had a rapid sedating effect on your nerves.

You patted his arm in gratitude with three quick taps before snapping your hand back to your side. The corner of his mouth twitched up at your friendly gesture. 

“Here, take these now.” He handed the bags of food to you before rapping his knuckles against the door. You bounced on the balls of your feet just a little when you managed to not jerk away from the noise. Joel gave you the same grin from the kitchen table when you had your last moment of pride. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing bigger.

“And, what Ellie said earlier, about comin’ over sometime, we’d enjoy the company,” he said. You didn’t have a chance to answer him other than a soft gasp of disbelief and delight before the door swung open.

Susan stood in the doorway and remarked on Joel’s surprise appearance, expecting to see Maria with you. Shit. The next time Maria came over, Susan was bound to talk to her about your outing and find out you had foolishly gone alone.

“Me’n Ellie caught her just as we were headin’ out. Goin’ to get our shoppin’ done, too. She did real good, Susan. Whatever you’re doin’ is helpin’, I think,” he said as he jerked his head in your direction. 

You nodded with enthusiasm at Joel’s cover for you. Bless this man and his skillful lying! you sang to yourself. “Oh, Bug! That’s wonderful!” she lilted. Her excitement was palpable.

“You know, Joel, usually Maria stops by about once a week to fetch me some things, but it might just work out that Bug could start doing the shopping when you and Ellie go out. Now with two people in the house, we’ll need to keep more food around. I’m sure however often you and Ellie go would be about the same we’d need to do our shopping, too.”

An eyebrow shot up to your hairline at Susan’s estimation. Joel, the bulky, broad man next to you? That could probably eat a Thanksgiving tier meal three times a day, every day? You doubted you and Susan’s intake combined would put a dent in Joel’s diet. If he and Ellie didn’t make multiple trips a week to the store or the canteen, you were certain they were lugging back more than just two measly fabric bags of food. 

“Sure thing, Susan,” Joel replied. You looked up at him in surprise. “That is, if you’re alright with it?”

“I, of course. Of course. That sounds good,” you agree. Maybe going with him and Ellie would be better than Maria. After all, today’s outburst at least gave them an idea of what to expect if things went south again.

“Alright, great. I’ll let y’all two get inside where it’s warm.” Joel stepped aside for you to enter and gave a quick wave before heading off.

You tucked the carrots into the fridge while Susan unpacked the second bag.

“See, Bug? I promised you that they were great to have around for some help. Isn’t Joel such a nice man?” she asked. “Yes. Yes, he is,” you answer.

It was the only thing you had said today with swift, unconditional certainty.

The next week rolled around, and you made your way to Ellie and Joel’s for your market trip. Joel answered the door and started to lock it and head out. “Ellie’s at some school somethin’ or other today. Bitched about it all mornin’. Just you and me today if that’s alright,” he explained.

“Oh. Sure. That’s-That’s fine,” you reply.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And I’dda had you come in while I finished up the dishes, but I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with that or not.”

“I-I think that would’ve been okay,” you lie. Joel’s lip twitched, but he was kind enough to not vocalize the fact that you both knew you weren’t telling the truth.

“I’m-I mean it. I do. Being around you. It’s fine. I like it. Being around you,” you blurt out unceremoniously. Embarrassment started to creep up your spine at your tactless social etiquette, but you pushed it down. You refused to feel shame for your lack of decorum aftering spending so many years alone or worse yet in the company of those you’d hesitate to even call human beings.

Joel didn’t say anything at first, although his quirked brow and upward tug at the corner of his mouth gave the impression that he was at least amused by you.

“I’m glad t’say it’s the same for me,” he chuckled. His lack of reaction at your awkward outburst made you feel like you should explain yourself.

“Thanks.” The conversation lulled, and you tried to steal a few furtive glances at Joel. Not satisfied with the glimpses you were managing, you settled into a loop of peeks that you knew were much too close to gawking for it to go unnoticed.

 Joel didn’t shift or seem uncomfortable under your watch. It was as if he didn’t have a care in the world. 

You’d give anything to feel like that.

“My people- My social skills aren’t too great. Sorry,” you excuse yourself in a hurry.

Joel simply shrugged, clearly not going to engage in your negative self-talk.

“Guess that’s what being kidnapped and kept prisoner for two years does to you,” you laugh hollowly.

Joel did stiffen at the casually lobbed statement you offered up as if it weren’t absolutely gut-wrenching and devastating. You blatantly stared up at him, wanting to see his reaction.

“Honey, you’re better company than just about anybody I’ve met in Jackson, so I’d encourage you to not get stuck on shit like that,” he contended firmly with an unwavering gaze set on you to match.

“S-Sure you don’t just-just put up with me? Because you, ‘cause you feel sorry for me?” The words came spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“I wouldn’t put up with somebody if I didn’t want to,” he corrected. 

You felt a warmth in your chest at his admission. You wished you could also claim you wouldn’t be around somebody if you didn’t like them, but you had just spent month after month after month of your life doing just the opposite.

“I’m just, you know, just trying to learn. Learn how to be… around people?” Again, the words spilled over without thought. Joel’s low reactivity somehow made him into a sort of sounding board.

“You and me both,” Joel chuckled.

You tilted your head in question. He seemed to interact with people just fine. He didn’t seem anxious at all whenever he spoke to anyone. Sure, he didn’t say much usually, but you never got the impression that he felt nervous. 

You’d give anything to feel like that.

“But you talk to everyone just fine,” you counter.

Joel laughed some more and shook his head in disagreement. “No. I simply do what I have to in order to get by. Simple as that.”

Your body flexed in response to his offhand remark. If that’s what Joel was doing, did that mean you were going to have to do the same? More fakery?  More saying whatever people want to hear so that your life is easier? More forgoing your own wishes just so you aren’t in danger? Being a different person entirely just because it kept you safer than being yourself and listening to your own desires and wishes?

You curled and uncurled your hands at your sides in frustration. “Somethin’ I said?” Joel leaned over to get a better view of you.

You averted your face so you didn’t have to look at him. “S’nothing.”

He walked silently for a moment before it seemed he had an idea of what you had reacted to.

“Nothin’ wrong with doin’ what you have to, to survive,” he said sternly. 

You glanced back up at him. The mist over your eyes clouded your vision slightly, but you didn’t risk blinking it back and sending it spilling over.

“But you don’t have to do that sorta thing here, you understand me? Talk to who you wanna talk to. Say what you wanna say. You don’t owe anybody shit.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the gathering wet in your eyes to recede.

“Hey.” Joel’s voice was so soft you would’ve missed it if you weren’t on such high alert already. You sniffed back your frustration and turned to look up at him when he stopped. You really didn’t need to cry in front of this man. Again.

“I’m gonna say somethin’, and you need to listen to me,” he said slowly. His hand sort of hovered near your shoulder as if he had intended to place it there but thought better of it at the last minute. “You can keep me company any time you see fit. You might feel self-conscious at the way you talk with people, but I like it.” 

You blinked and stared back at him, unsure if he was telling the truth or just trying to make you feel better. 

“I mean it. Half the time people talk around what they’re really tryin’ to say, and it drives me nuts. You? You just say it. You try to, even though I know it’s hard for you. You say what you’re thinkin’. You got the guts to say what’s on your mind. I like it. Takes the guess work outta things. Makes it easier to talk when it’s somebody like that.”

The tears you had tried so hard to keep in check were now teetering on your lashes. “I hope you like how I talk freely with ya, too.” His tone took a questioning turn, and you could only laugh at his unwarranted uncertainty.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” you warble. “Trying to trust people. You’re doing a- doing a pretty good job of m-making that easier for me, Joel.”

You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to keep from crying even though you were sure Joel could see the wet lumps brimming along your eyes.

“And thanks for saying that you, um, that you like b-being around me.” It came out more pitiful than you had intended, but it was out there now.

“Not a hard sell when somebody’s easy to be around,” he shrugged.

The movement of your face rearranging into a smile pushed the teetering pools onto the curves of your face in little rivulets. Joel’s thumb twitched as though he was considering brushing them off for you, but you shook your head in warning and scrubbed the heels of your palm over your face to dry them up before he could.

A small frown curved into the line of Joel’s mouth as he lowered his hands to his sides in an almost apologetic motion.

“Too much still,” you reminded him. “Nothing to-to do with you.”

He nodded in understanding and motioned for the two of you to continue walking.

You waited a few beats to collect yourself before trying to start up a conversation again. 

“You know that, uh, you’re-you’re in big trouble, right?”

Joel’s head snapped to attention, and you worried you had overplayed your joke.

“Yeah, I hafta use some of the slips for s’more jerky,” you tease. “Your fault.”

Joel cracked a wide grin when he realized you were trying to give him a hard time.

“Already polished off the bag I gave you, huh?” he taunted with equal levity.

“Actually, yeah. I-I did. Is that bad?” you ask in earnest.

Joel sniffed a laugh and replied, “Nope. Already told’ya you’re under strict orders to eat as much of it as often as you want.”

You were glad it wasn’t actually a bad thing that you were having to use some of Susan’s slips just to support your jerky habit. 

“A-Affirmative, lieutenant,” you giggle. You hoped your play on Joel’s wording of “strict orders” landed.

“Christ you’re a mess,” Joel laughed, and you gladly joined him with a timid one of your own.

Turns out Joel's struggles with communicating feelings improve greatly when presented with somebody who's even worse at it than he is lmao.

Also, I know it's not really funny considering the context, but Joel angrily commanding somebody to eat jerky is hilarious to me.

What are y'all's thoughts on the story so far? Would love to hear from you. :)

And thank you to everyone who has been interacting and even reblogging my silly little fics. It's so kind of you, and I appreciate it!

Catch ya later, 

♥Puddles♥

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Three

Father Figure! Lucifer x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Three: He Doesn’t Just Throw Those Words Around

Summary: (Y/N) notices Lucifer is acting strangely.

            “(Y/N), why is Chloe calling me?” called Em.

            “I dunno,” said (Y/N), clearly lying.

            “Birdie.”

            “What? She could just be calling you to talk to you,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            “She never calls me. She always calls you, and if she needs to talk to me, she has you hand over the phone,” said Em.

            “What? That’s stupid. Chloe knows we’re not always together,” said (Y/N).

            Em deadpanned. “We kind of are.”

            “Oh. Right,” said (Y/N), blinking.

            “But this is beside the point,” said Em. “The point is that if Chloe is calling me, it means you weren’t answering your phone.”

            “…Okay, fine, I wasn’t,” said (Y/N). “But it’s because Lucifer is on a case with her, and if she’s calling me, it means he’s causing trouble, and I don’t want to be around him.” They crossed their arms. “So I’m not getting involved.”

            “Well, Chloe keeps calling me, so I’m answering,” said Em.

            “What?! No!”

            “Hi, Chloe,” said Em, ignoring (Y/N). “Yeah, they’re here. Yeah, they didn’t hear their phone ringing. Yeah, they’d love to talk.”

            “Em…” whined (Y/N), but it was too late, and Em shoved the phone into their hand. “Hiiii, Chloe.” (Y/N) mimed strangling Em.

            “Hey, (Y/N),” said Chloe. “Have you, uh, seen Lucifer?”

            “Yeah, he came back to the penthouse like he owned the place and he hadn’t done anything,” grumbled (Y/N).

            Chloe, smartly, decided to move on from (Y/N)’s anger. “Okay…Well, he’s been acting a little strange, and I was wondering if you thought so.”

            “I haven’t been hanging out with him,” said (Y/N).

            “Right,” said Chloe, sighing. “Okay, well, can you just…try? And see how he’s acting? I think something is troubling him.”

            “Yeah, well, I’m troubled,” said (Y/N).

            “Please? I think might have happened to him in Hell,” said Chloe, worried.

            (Y/N) let out a sigh, but as angry as they were at Lucifer, they still cared. “…Okay. I will.”

            “Thank you, (Y/N). I’m sure he’ll open up to you,” said Chloe.

            If he hasn’t completely forgotten me from being in Hell.

            What a depressing thought.

l

       ��    “(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” said Lucifer, tilting his head as (Y/N) walked into the LAPD office.

            “I’m here to do homework. I didn’t like doing it in the Penthouse when you were gone,” said (Y/N). They narrowed their eyes. “And Chloe is nice to be around.”

            “Yes, of course.” Lucifer smiled. “Well, whatever works for you.”

            (Y/N) paused. That was odd. Lucifer was never so…well-adjusted to decisions that excluded him. Even if he was trying to make it up to (Y/N), this wasn’t normal. Maybe Chloe was right and Lucifer had been affected by being Hell.

            In that case, (Y/N) would feel a bit bad about being so angry and focusing on themself. (No, actually (Y/N) would still be pissed, but they would maybe feel sympathetic to him).

            (Y/N) sat down. “Is your case going well?”

            “Chloe and I have a few leads,” said Lucifer.

            (Y/N) blinked, and the shadows beneath their chair swirled as their intuition perked up at his words. “Chloe?” He always calls her “Detective…” I don’t think a thousand years could change that. It’s something he did because he loved her…Loves. Whatever.

            “Right, well, that’s good,” said (Y/N), taking out their homework.

            “Yes,” agreed Lucifer. He looked at their schoolwork. “If you need any help, let me know. I’m here to help.”

            He smiled, and something, something made (Y/N)’s fingers flex towards their shadow.

            “I’m fine,” said (Y/N).

            Lucifer smiled. “Are you sure? Maybe you need a break or something. We could go out and…just hang out. Bond again. I’ve missed you.”

            “I think I’m just going to do my work and go grab food with my friends,” said (Y/N), narrowing their eyes.

            “Well, whenever you want to spend time with me, I’m here. I swear, I’m sorry for leaving you. I want to make it up to you,” said Lucifer.

            The words were sweet, but (Y/N) just felt unsettled. Every part of them wanted to pull away from the situation. The familiar sense of fight-or-flight settled into their heart as anxiety constricted their lungs. The beloved sense of security that had always accompanied Lucifer’s presence was gone, replaced by unease.

            “…I’m fine,” said (Y/N), holding their notebook and pencil tighter. They were leaving as soon as possible.

l

            “(Y/N)!” shouted Olive, running (skating) up to (Y/N) at the skatepark. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

            “Huh?” said (Y/N), blinking.

            “I mentioned Lucifer came back yesterday,” said Em, successfully balancing on a skateboard for once.

            “Is it true?” said Noa, frowning.

            “It is,” said (Y/N).

            “I thought he was leaving for your safety? Wouldn’t returning defeat the purpose?” remarked Leon.

            “I have no idea how he’s back or even why,” groaned (Y/N), sitting down on a bench.

            Their friends exchanged looks and gathered around them.

            “What’s wrong? I mean, he’s obviously come back for you. He’s your dad. Aren’t you…happy?” said Marcel.

            “He hurt (Y/N). They don’t have to be happy. They’re entitle to be a little angry,” said Olive supportively.

            “It’s more than that, isn’t it?” said Em, sitting down next to (Y/N) and gazing at them gently. She could tell (Y/N) was upset, and they wanted to help them in any way they could.

            “I can’t explain it,” said (Y/N), sighing. “But I think Chloe was right, something’s wrong with Lucifer.”

            Em frowned. “Lucifer.” Not “Dad.” Alarm bells went off in their head.

            “You think Hell hurt him somehow?” asked Noa.

            “But isn’t he the king? Doesn’t he have the power?” asked Marcel.

            “It must be a mentally taxing responsibility,” said Leon.

            “That’s not it,” said (Y/N). “Something’s wrong with him, but I…I don’t know if it’s Hell. It feels like it’s him.”

            “What do you mean?” asked Olive.

            “We won’t judge you,” said Em. “We’re here to help, Birdie.”

            “It just doesn’t make any sense,” said (Y/N). “He just isn’t my dad. I don’t feel safe with him. There’s just something…wrong. I can’t shake the feeling.”

            “And it’s not something a thousand years changed in him?” asked Leon, as concerned as any of them but trying to walk (Y/N) through the situation logically so they didn’t spiral.

            “No,” said (Y/N) firmly. “My Dad wouldn’t make me feel unsafe. I know no amount of time would change that.”

            “He’s not going to…hurt you, is he?” said Olive softly, voicing a terrible thought.

            “No. That’s not something Lucifer would do,” said Em firmly. “Even back as the King of Hell before coming to LA, he was never cruel.”

            “Good, good,” said Olive, protective of her friends.

            “What are you going to do?” asked Noa.

            “What?” asked Marcel.

            “They have to figure out what to do,” said Noa. “If they feel unsafe, they can’t stay at the Penthouse. But if they think Lucifer might become more like their dad again and it’s just him being back in LA that’s odd, then they can stay.”

            “And if something is wrong, we need to decide what to do,” said Em, narrowing her eyes. They would protect (Y/N) above their “king.”

            “So, (Y/N)? What are you thinking of doing?” said Leon.

            “I’m going to talk to him. I can figure out what to do from there,” said (Y/N), squaring their shoulders.

            “Are you sure, Birdie? If he’s acting strangely, I don’t…I don’t know, I just don’t want anything to happen,” said Em worriedly.

            “I’ll get the truth,” said (Y/N). They offer a smile. “I mean, he doesn’t lie.”

            Right. Lucifer always told the truth.

l

            “Hey, Maze,” said (Y/N) as they walked onto the elevator and Maze walked out.

            The demon looked away before meeting (Y/N)’s gaze. “Hey.”

            “Is Lucifer in the Penthouse?” asked (Y/N).

            “Uh, yeah, he is,” said Maze.

            “Are you okay?” (Y/N) frowned.

            “I’m just…I’m still pissed Lucifer went back to Hell and left me here,” said Maze.

            “Me, too,” said (Y/N).

            “I have to go, I have a bounty to pick up,” said Maze.

            “Good luck,” said (Y/N), pressing the button for the Penthouse.

            The elevator went up, and when the doors slid open, (Y/N) found Lucifer making himself a drink at the counter.

            “Hey, uh, Lucifer?” said (Y/N), squaring their shoulders. They could do this. They could figure it out.

            “Yes, (Y/N)?” said Lucifer, turning around with a smile.

            “I know I’ve been…mean because you abandoned me and went to Hell,” said (Y/N). “Which I’m not apologizing for, by the way—but I just…I’m ready to talk.” To see how I feel near you and what’s going on…

            “Excellent,” said Lucifer. “What do you have to say?”

            “I want to know why you could leave me so easily and come back as if it meant nothing,” said (Y/N), their heart clenching as they went straight to the point.

            “…It was hard, (Y/N),” said Lucifer. “That’s all I can say.”

            “That’s it?” snapped (Y/N).

            “(Y/N), I love you. What more do I need to say?” said Lucifer.

            That was it. (Y/N)’s entire body rejected his words, and the shadows around the room flared upwards, dimming the lights.

            “Lucifer told me he loved me once.” (Y/N) glared at the man standing in front of them. “He doesn’t just throw those words around.”

            The man in front of them laughed awkwardly. “I’ve…learned to be more open with my emotions. I’ve improved. I’m Lucifer 2.0!”

            “You’re not Lucifer.” (Y/N)’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t care what lies you try to tell me, you’re not him. You don’t know his heart.”

            The man’s smile fell as he realized (Y/N) truly wasn’t going to be tricked by anything he said.

            “Of course the brat figures it out after everyone else is easy to handle,” muttered the man, his voice dropping into a southern drawl.

            “Who the hell are you?” demanded (Y/N), narrowing their eyes.

            “I’m Michael.”

Taglist:

@sammyscreencaps-13

@grippleback-galaxy-galaxy

@scarlettqueen190

@ziro-the-null-god

@sammy-13

@zeros-rot

@ceridwyn3

@technikerin23

@poetoflawed

@slytherinroyalty16

@ilse235

@theurbannoodle

@lookitseddie

[thatone-brightstar]

Before You (Carmen Berzatto X Fem!OC)

It was Isaac before Carmy, and it was Ross before you.

Part I. // Part II.

Part III: February.

words: 5.8k

a/n: I'll be gone for a while. Enjoy this ferewell gift. Not proofread, couldn't bother to.

 “What’s Vygotsky’s theory?”

“Uhm… the one where a child’s cognitive development and learning ability is guided by their social interactions?”

“Yes, good.” Carmy whispers back with a gentle smile. “Okay, now gimme the four stages of Piaget’s cognitive development.”

Sensorimotor… preoperational, concrete operational and… shit.”

Her head goes blank, lids heavy with the weight of the day and the darkness. The only source of light coming in from the green neon light continuously strobing behind his flimsy curtains.

“C’mon, you know it…” He reassures from his space in the mattress, legs crossed and bare back resting against the wall.

Ross throws herself face forward and groans against the plushness. School and her job had extended the day longer than usual, and now with the post-sex study session not being part of her plan, all she wanted was to finally give her drained body a rest.

“Formal-” She jolts her head up from the bed, hair an even bigger mess around her. “- formal operational!”

Carmy nods, his own messy hair swaying to the rhythm of his soft movements. “Fuck yes- see, told you you could do it.”

She falls back against the covers with a pleased smile and stretches her limbs out in a way that reminds him of a cat- confident and graceful. His shirt feathers delicately around her upper thighs, cotton taking the place of where his lips had met the tender skin not so long ago and he can still feel her soft flesh rub over them again.

“Last one-” He tries to say but is interrupted by her groan. “-it’s the easiest one c’mon, first rule of patient confidentiality?”

“ ...snitches get stitches?” She whispers, doe eyes boring deep into his from her laid down position.

Her answer yanks a chuckle from his overworked chest and he nods down to her, repeating the phrase back. “Yeah that’s… actually correct- snitches do get stitches.”

He contemplates her closed eyes and relaxing features for a couple seconds, how every slow breath takes her deeper into her subconscious and away from him, before closing her binder and standing to turn off the bathroom light. 

Ross stirs in place, slight frown forming when the mattress dips heavily beside her, and the weight of his body has hers rotating a few inches to his side. Carmy remains still, hands by his sides and making little effort to move or even breathe as the act of sharing his bed is still one of novelty. Ross hadn’t spent too many nights over, always creating an excuse to exempt herself from the situation. 

On days like these, though, when she’s too worked out to make the drive back home and the warmth radiating off her is enough to chase the winter chill away, Carmen feels an unnerving sensation flourish deep in his chest. He would associate it as melancholy, although he doesn’t know what he’s melancholic for exactly. 

Maybe for being given a glimpse of something that had been unknown to him until now, something he knew wouldn’t last him long. Like mourning the death of a loved one long before it happens, the inevitable loss. 

“What’s the original beef?” She mumbles half asleep, pulling him from his head and he swallows back down the thick goo bubbling in his stomach once again.

“Hmm?”

“There’s like… five shirts of ‘em in your drawer.” Her voice is thick, mostly speaking past the veil of sleep. “Is it like a band?”

He breathes out a thin laugh- a lighthearted sigh- and remembers the multiple blue shirts hiding in the bottom of the drawer he let her pull a shirt from. “No… it’s uh- the family restaurant.”

“Hmm, that sounds really cool…”

“A restaurant?” He scoffs.  “You work in one…”

The girl’s voice is such a quiet whisper, that he can hear the light crinkles and whistles of the vowels forming on her tongue. “No… a family one.”

The warmth of her hand slides timidly over the sheets, pointer finger wrapping shakily over his cold pinky and eradicating the few inches left of the glacier wall she had been unknowingly calving at since before New Years. With her euphonic laughs invading the service area anytime she walked to the back; and with her short temper terribly disguised behind expressive eyes. 

With a shuddering exhale and eyes glued shut behind a creased brow, he hooks his finger around hers and gently drapes her limp hand over his abdomen. His other palm and volatile pulse cradle it tenderly, rubbing a calloused thumb over the velvet knuckles until he drifts peacefully asleep.

It felt almost like slipping into a warm bath. Comfortable, fragrant, embraceful. His kind words flickered bright on the wicks of the candles he lit just for her, painting the steam across a matted gold.

It felt like soft kisses over shoulder blades, uneven digits tracing goosebumps across a bare back, hair brushed to the side. The sweet mumbles pouring from her lips fall on paper boats, rocking on the choppy water over their joined thighs. 

It was soft and slow and silky. Like the taste of roses and soap invading her mouth with each gentle stroke of his tongue and the gasps she takes when his hips snap up. Her hand slips from the edge of the tub, wrapping instead over golden tendrils catching the lowlights. One of his arms circles her waist while the other has disappeared between them, past the pink shimmering liquid.

She braces herself for the wave of shivers the contact will arise, but it never comes. Instead, the walls seem to be growing taller, making space for the water that’s beginning to surpass her waist. 

Ross pulls around the tightening arm to make an escape but it’s useless against the growing strength of Carmy’s hold, almost pushing the last bit of air from her lungs. She wants to scream at his face- beg with burning tears that he let her go- as the water rapidly bubbles around the shoulders he once sweetly kissed. There’s rocks in her mouth, thick and heavy ones that roll down her esophagus and ground her back to the porcelain floor.

With a blurry sight and tear stained cheeks, she tries to quickly read his hardened expression for any trace of apathy or remorse, but any of it is gone. He sees through her, past her ghost, like you would a glass window in a café while awaiting the arrival of somebody else.

It’s the haunting expression of nothingness that breaks her out right after the water devours them both. 

The strobing green neon light outside his window flashes in her widened eyes once awake, though not fully conscious. She pries the deadweight of his arm off her waist with all her strength and rolls to the side in a heaving fit of dry coughs that will surely wake him up. Throat burning dry, Ross reaches an arm back to his chest, feeling the accelerated rhythm of his breath and while her coughs subside, she turns to catch the pained expression looming over a sweaty brow.

A croak similar to his name scratches the walls of her throat as she aimlessly crawls over the covers to his tense form. She grazes her trembling hands over his face and pushes back the strands sticking to his cold forehead. “Carmy- hey, c’mon wake up-”

His words are a mumbling mess, mixed between sighs and desperate inhales failing to pass through his tightened jaw. Strained tendons bulge from the sides of his neck and the scattered movement of his eyes behind the thin lids raises her panic even  higher. Her logic hangs off the window railing, next to the flashing sign, as she moves above him and pulls his head to rest on the soft of her thighs. 

The room is silent, apart from his struggling breaths. “Carmen, please… c’mon hun, you gotta wake up-” She mutters close to his face.

Ross leans down to press her lips over his temple, repeating his name over and over while rocking him side to side. She does it until the salt in her tears combines with the one on his hair and the messy sheet has ribbed her sensitive knees. 

In a short instant, Carmy takes in a sharp breath, catapulting his upper body off the mattress. Ross pushes back with a hand flying over her stammering heart as her eyes scan over him. His look is wild, unstable as he searches around the darkened room. With a shaking hand, she barely graces her fingertips over the tense muscle of his shoulder. 

“Hey-It’s okay-”

He flinches back as if her skin stung his own and he whips his head back with the sound of her voice. His scattered gaze flickers over her face, eyes wide in fear, as if he’s still stuck inside his nightmare and doesn’t recognize her. Her hand hovers inches away from him, not daring to move any closer.

“You’re okay, Carmen.” She pulls her hand back, down onto her folded thighs and guides him with the best blank tone she can manage. “You’re safe. Breathe…”

He follows the rising movements of her chest, unblinking eyes orbiting back into reality with every inhale. She sneaks a tender ‘You’re okay’ in each exhale.  She doesn’t stop her words until she sees his heaves have gone down to slow intakes and his brow isn’t as pinched together anymore.

Carmy mumbles a ‘sorry’ that muffles with the skin of his palm. He takes another inhale, rubbing harshly over his features, then finally opens his eyes to hers. “So-sorry…” 

Ross immediately shakes her head. “It’s okay.”

“Are- are you okay? I didn’t hurt your or anythin’- right?”

The bruise forming over her stomach is beginning to hurt, though not as much as the hole his preoccupation for her creates. Despite waking up from what appears to be the worst of night terrors, he still asks her if she’s alright, and she’d rather conceal the aching palpitation over her abdomen with a lie than break him any further.

“No-no. I’m… I’m good. You did scare the shit out of me though…”

“Good… good.” He adds, absent minded and following her nods with his own, then he winces at his response, “Sorry- I mean, good that you’re okay- not that I scared you- that’s… fucked.”

All she can do is offer a thin smile and another low “It’s okay.” because she’s not sure of what to say or even if she should say anything at all.

The silence grows long and heavy. His eyes unfocus to an empty space on his wall, past her head, where he’s probably recreating fragments of his nightmare once again, trying hard to tell reality apart. 

Ross swallows hard- the action nipping at her sensitive abdomen for only a moment- then she moves her cramped legs from under her and lays on the space by Carmy again. With a gentle tug to his wrist, she’s able to draw his attention back to her and it doesn’t take much convincing to have him sprawled out back at her side. 

“Do you know how to make pasta from scratch?” She asks in the silence, both sets of eyes holding up the ceiling with their unwavering stare. Ross feels him nod beside her and she can tell his head is still clouded with the mirage of his subconscious. 

“Tell me how?” She whispers again, turning to his side with an arm tucked under the pillow and drinking in the strong silhouette of his nose and jaw. 

Carmen swallows to alleviate the thin ache the scream left in its wake before he answers. 

“It’s, uh, kinda easy…” He begins to list the ingredients by heart, unaware of the subtle drowsiness behind his voice as he reaches the kneading process; or the lulling motion of her nails raking along the inside of his arm. Soon, his pauses grow longer and his tone lighter, until his soft snores fill the room one after another.

He goes dreamless for the rest of the night, at least the few hours he had left before his alarm blares from somewhere in the bed. Once he finds it and turns it off, an arm instinctively reaches to her side, but finds only the messy sheets and a lack of warmth in its wake. The cold covers let him know Ross has been gone long before he even woke up, maybe even hours ago. He searches around for a discarded note or his phone for a  text, but there’s nothing when he remembers he doesn’t have her contact, and his chest is once again constricted with the stinging sense of melancholy that replaces her absence.

**********

Ross hadn’t been able to hold anything in all day. The sole idea of food was a passing thought that couldn’t stick to the anxiety ridden walls of her brain. Her last try had taken place that morning, under fluorescent lights and dawn barely breaking past the skyline. Through a caffeine induced awareness and a heavy sleep deprived haze, she managed to drag her way across the exam, though not really remembering any of the questions soon after. She tried to concentrate, truly did- it was her future in the form of paper after all-, but each segment seemed to be written in Simlish and no amount of re reading helped getting the information in. 

It also didn’t help that in each microsecond of her tired blinks, all she saw was a haunted stare behind baby blue eyes. The lines had blurred too far, too deep, too out of her grasp and control and now the idea of the unknown occupied her every thought. 

To leave him in the middle of the night, with the fear that he might have another nightmare and she wouldn’t be there for him, was a hard decision to take. She had swayed on the balls of her feet for minutes, just staring at his puffing chest from the corner of the bed like some sort of creep, before quickly padding forward and planting a goodbye kiss on the center of his forehead. She felt the stress of being suspended over a tightrope with only a flimsy string tied at the waist each time the idea that it might not be just a fling slithered into her mind. 

Seeing him the way she did, almost in agony, would naturally have her cutting ties with anyone else, ghosting them without a second glance. But she couldn't do that to him, not sweet Carmen. Not to him, who asked her if she was alright seconds after having what looked like the worst of night terrors. To him who made her dinner after a long night of cooking for others and still explained every step with patience.

“-you just gotta keep stirring so it doesn’t stick-” He commented from the other side of the tiny unused kitchen, curls bowed over the bubbling pot of mac & cheese. “-are you even listening?”

She nodded out of habit, though her thoughts were flooded by the view of tight veins trailing up his arm as he slowly moved the wooden spoon around. Carmy couldn’t help the small grin pulling at the corner of his mouth when his eyes found hers on his body.

“Totally listening…” Ross added, then blinked a few times to chase away the dirty thoughts. “I know how to make mac & cheese y’know, it’s not rocket science.”

“It’s also no Kraft’s” He joked back and followed her movements with his eyes, how she rounded the small island then hopped to sit on the surface beside him, the slick skirt rising higher up and exposing her thighs. 

“Hey, don’t shit on Kraft like that-” She responded with a small laugh that pulled his gaze up to her face instead. “-it’s easy and delicious. Plus it’s the first thing I ever learnt to cook.”

“Oh, yeah?” Carmy asked and she nodded with a proud smile. “How old?”

“Uh… four, I think.”

“Damn, that’s young. How’d you reach the stove?” He asked, taking his eyes off her only to turn off the flames. then leaning on his hip and giving her his full attention.

“I had a uh, milk crate, that I’d drag around the house.” Ross tried to hide the drop of her lips behind her palm by rubbing her finger over her cupid’s bow, but the slight sadness in her tone didn’t go unnoticed to his ears. “You?” She asked suddenly.

He contemplated her question for a long moment. “A… step stool.”

“Ooh, fancy.” She mouthed, pulling a chuckle from him.

“Very self-sufficient of us, huh?” He praised after a few seconds of silence, 

“Had to be.” The girl said with a shrug and a forced smile.

It was the way he was looking at her that gave her a sense of solace, the silent comprehension between two people bonded by similar childhood experiences. His eyes bore big and weighted over her for an eternity, under the dim light bulb above his stove. It’s not like he’s never looked at her before, but the glow behind them was different the closer he moved towards her still form.

“So is it done?” Ross whispered, no need to speak any higher in their limited space.

“What?”

A slow smile unrolled over her lips at the way his eyes flickered down. “...the mac & cheese, Carm.”

Carmen blinked a few times and cleared his throat with a choked laugh. “Right, ye-yeah it’s done.” He pushed off his side and pulled open a drawer to take out a spoon. “So… I uh, only have one spoon.” He reached up to rub his neck embarrassed.

“You’re one person.” She teased back, making the tint on his skin grow darker. “It’s fine, we’ll share-” She shrugged. “- it’s not like I haven’t tasted your spit before…”

Her insides flutter at last night’s memory. It was the first time she had ever felt a single doubt about someone, it was uncharted territory and it made her absolutely fucking terrified.  It was the reason why she had been avoiding the back of house all night, filling her bottle at the bar instead and passing any requests through Meg, who couldn’t stop huffing with every ticket her way.

“Hey- ‘member there’s a birthday on 32, please.” She calls out to Meg, seeing her pass through her peripheral vision, then throw her head back with a groan.

“Dude just go in yourself, I’m swamped-”

“I can’t, my scores will be up any minute and this is the only place with good wifi.”

She snatches the paper from her outstretched hand. “Test scores my ass- just admit  you don’t wanna see him and move on.”

Meg leans slightly on the wooden desk that separates the entrance hall as she keeps her eyes on the bustling dining room. 

“Thought you were swamped…” 

“I lied.” She shrugs and leans her head in closer. “So what, did he give you the ick? Called you baby girl or some shit?”

“No…”

“Then what, is his dick all wonkey lookin’? Y’know, like when it curves to the side?”

Ross keeps tapping at the tablet in faux concentration, hoping that the lack of an answer will drive her friend away. 

“Oh my god, of course- it’s not him is it?” The almost blind tension in her jaw is enough of a response. “You actually like him!”

“Shutthefuckup Megan-” Ross snaps, turning her head back to her friend who couldn’t seem to hide the gleam on her face.

“Oh god- you so do!” She whisper-cheers, throwing a hand up to cover the wide smile threatening to burst at the seams. “Dude, I thought it was just a fling!”

“It still is… I think- I’m not sure anymore-” She shakes her head a bit too hard and closes her eyes to erase the little spots beginning to form. “I’m just gonna cut it off tonight. I don’t have time for that shit.”

“Oh c’mon, seriously? How ‘bout you tie your laces together while you’re at it.”

“What?”

“If you wanna self-sabotage that’s easier, don't you think?” Meg explains and Ross rolls her eyes, turning back to the tablet.

“Well what would you rather I do then?!”

“I dunno, take ‘em and run! Ross, he seems actually decent- better than anyone else I’ve ever met you-, plus he’s really cute…” She teases, both hands wrapped around her forearm and shaking excitedly.

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Ross shuts her eyes hard enough that the stars behind her lids block out the deep blue.

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can-”

“No I can’t- you don’t get it Meg. He- he’s really good, like too good-” She can faintly hear Martin's voice travel towards them behind her rambling, but that doesn’t make it stop. “-he makes me food n’ he’s sweet and-”

There’s sweat beginning to accumulate on the palm of her hands, making the pen she’s constantly tapping on the desk extra slippery.

“-what if I fuck it up?” She finally admits, eyes screwed shut. “What if he doesn’t feel the same, or- or he does- and I end up fuckin’ it up catastrophically cause I’m just like them and I don’t know how to properly show it”

“Okay, chill and breathe or you’ll puke on yourself-“

Ross shakes her head a bit too hard as her breath comes out in short gasps. “Can’t- there’s nothing to puke out.”

“What? When’s the last time you ate?” Meg asks again, ignoring Martin’s second call. 

“Last night, I think. I was too nervous- couldn’t eat.”

Despite knowing this, her mouth begins to develop the excess saliva that comes with the contractions of sickness. A thin layer of cold sweat forms over her forehead and through the light haze, Ross can hear Martin’s consistent stomps move in their direction.

“Megan, did you not hear me?! 37’s been waiting for their third course for almost ten minutes-” He stops shouting long enough to spot Ross’ disorbiting gaze. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry Martin, Ross isn’t feeling well and I’ve been trying to help her-” She half lies, heavy hand dramatically palming around the moisture on her friend’s face. 

“I’m good- probably just need some air.” Ross puffs out her cheeks and swallows down the thick liquid in her mouth.

“Alright, you heard her- she’s fine, go watch your tables.” Martin shoos her off with a motion of his hand then turns back to his hostess with a creased frown. “You, go to the back and take a breath, I’ll keep watch here. Maybe drink somethin’ sweet- you look like shit.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She mumbles, too tired to make a sarcastic comment, and moves blindly around the perimeter of the room to avoid bumping into any of the servers.

The sensation only intensifies once she crosses to the back of house, as hundred different smells bombard her senses and twist at the already tight knot invading her stomach. She doesn’t stop or look up from the non-slip matts while crossing the narrow hallway to the back. 

She’s crouching and heaving dryly by the wall before the door even finishes closing. There’s just the repeating sound of hard contractions leaving her throat, but nothing other than that exits her body. It’s still torture, but the fresh bruise decorating her midrift distracts her enough from the multiple shakes. When her gut finally stops, Ross spits out the bile coating her tongue, wipes her mouth and leans back against the cold wall, all puffy-eyed and sniffles. 

Her hard puffs materialize in the February breeze, little clouds of vapor that caress her reddened cheeks only momentarily, then disappear into nothing, almost poetically. She stays glued to the cold bricks while her pulse de-escalates, only to spike up again at the sound of the door slamming hard beside her and another figure running out a few feet away.

She watches immobile how he paces in the small space, hands shaking by his sides then raking painfully hard through his hair. He’s breathing hard enough that she can hear it from her space by the entrance and despite the alarms ringing in her head, she can’t stop her feet from moving forward.

“Hey, you good?”

He stops abruptly at the sound of her voice, head turning in her direction for only a second, but it’s enough for her to see the fierce emotion bubbling behind his eyes, a more somber one than what she’s used to.

“Not now, okay-” He snaps still pacing, hands moving wildly because the anxiety coursing through him doesn’t allow a second of peace.

She stops a few feet behind and tries hard to ignore her own bubbling stress. “You gotta breath, okay-”

Carmy shakes his head again, gaze still lost. “I’m fine.” He shuts his eyes hard enough to crease his forehead. 

“Carm, you’re not-”

“Jesus fuck, Roslyn- can you just leave me the fuck alone for one minute!” 

The strength in his voice makes her take a step back. “I know you’re pissed but-”

“Can you not fuckin’ psychoanalyze me right now-”

“-I’m not.” Ross cuts in immediately. “I’m not- I-I just wanna help-”

“- well, I don’t need your fuckin’ help, okay?” He spits. “I said I’m fine.”

“Yeah, clearly.” Her mumble drips with sarcasm as she straightens her posture and moves back.

“What- what’s that supposed to mean?” She can hear the edge in his voice as she stares down at the gravel under her feet. “Ross-”

“Nothing- you’re right, it’s- you’re totally fucking normal…”

Her shoes turn on the crushing gravel as she takes a step towards the exit, but his anger moves him faster, stepping in between her and the door, heaving chests almost touching. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Roslyn?”

His eyes grow cold, anger clinging with its nails onto the last bit of sensibility.

“Nothing.” 

Carmen takes a step in her direction and the gravel creaks again as she takes another back. Once her eyes meet his face, she can see the tightness of his jaw and the way his shoulder square tall, like an animal ready to pounce.

“No, go ahead- you got somethin’ to say, go ahead and fuckin’ say it-”

“You’re being a dick.” She finally snaps.

“What?”

“I said you’re a dick! I spent all of fuckin’ last night trying to stop you from choking on your own breath, Carmen. So maybe a fuckin’ thank you would be nice instead of tryin’ to pick a fight.” She rolls her eyes and pushes past him, reaching for the door, but he takes another step and once again blocks her way.

“That’s the fuckin’ problem? Shit- well thanks for the fuckin’ breathing exercises.”

Her head snaps up to his face and tilts with a hardened expression. “Y’know, what- next time, I’ll just let you choke on your own tongue, how ‘bout that, huh?”

“Nobody asked you to do it, y’know?” There’s no space between their puffing chests as they stare each other down, flight no longer an option. 

“I was trying to help you, asshole-”

“I don’t need you’re fuckin help, alright!” He shouts back. The words pierce her skin, like falling knees first over sharp glass, each letter digging into the frail skin. “D’you think just cause we fuck around that makes you my fuckin girlfriend or somethin? Cause it doesn’t, so just- back the fuck off.”

The force following his words hit harder than the bruise and knocks the last bits of composure from her. “You know what- thank fuck for that, because why would I ever want to be stuck with some egotistical jagoff with seriously rooted mommy issues-”

“-You don’t know shit about me.” 

“Oh, I know enough. I know you’re too fuckin’ stuck trying to prove your worth to others, but you don’t really believe it yourself-” Carmy’s jaw grows even harder, hooded eyes drilling a hole on hers.

“Stop-”

“You can’t really believe you deserve anyone that actually likes you so you do this-” She says, hand pointing between them. “Push anyone away with hurtful remarks and a shitty attitude, then wallow in self pity because that’s what you’re comfortable with.”

The city is eerily silent, or maybe it’s the anger ringing behind her ears that deafens the noise around her. Whatever it is, seems to drag on forever in the narrow space.

“You’ll find someone one day, Carmen. Not me, of course-” She dismisses with a wave and a bitter taste that she’d never let herself admit. “-but you will. And if you never learn to let go of all the crappy traits that make you a crappy person, you’ll end up just another sad and bitterly lonely man,”

Ross doesn’t wait for an answer back, not even just to hear a last ‘Fuck you’. She brushes past his side for the third time, but this time he doesn’t try to block the door and she makes no effort to stop. At least not until the warm air circles her and the sound of the pans grounds her again. The knot left back on her throat resembles the rocks from her nightmare and she’s quick to painfully swallow it back down before anyone can catch her.

There’s a small tickle over her cheekbone, one that travels slowly down her skin. She swats away the tear with the back of her hand, sniffling, then takes a deep breath before moving forward and out the back of house. She tries to resume her shift as best she can, counting down the hours left until closing and busying herself drawing flowers at the bottom of a discarded ticket while saying goodbye to the diners.

The phone rang at around 10, when most of the tables had started to clear out and she was busy collecting the menus that she almost didn’t catch it. The woman on the other line seemed worried and tired, on the verge of breaking down as she asked for her brother.

“Berzatto, I think he works there- I called his cell but he’s not picking up.” She explained through rushed words. “Please, tell him it’s urgent.”

“Uh yeah… he’s kitchen staff.” Ross answered a bit disoriented but hoping to maintain calm for the lady on the line. “I think they’re just finishing up, but I can call him over, just give me a sec-”

With her stomach in a knot and hands glued together, she called over for him, swallowing her pride. The kitchen was half empty by then and he even seemed surprised to hear her call for him after the fight. 

“Someone on the phone. She says it’s urgent.” She spoke softly, leaning on the entrance.

He nodded lightly, stepping around the counter and wiping his hands on the towel he managed to keep pristine all night. Just before walking past her, he stopped as if he had something to say but couldn’t find the words.

“Can we talk later?” His tone sounded shy, eyes darting around the half empty space, then landing on hers. “Look, I know I was a dick- and I’m really sorry. It’s just… this is really nice and I don’t wanna fuck it up-”

“I’ll wait for you here, yeah?” She places a hand on his shoulder to push herself up and plant a kiss on his cheek, the anger disappearing with a look of his clear baby blues.

He whispers a sweet ‘okay’ as he watches her fully move into the room and lean on the granite bar to wait for him, a thin smile pulling at his features before turning to the swaying doors.

The wait seems infinite but she tries to pass the time by pushing at the now cracked gel on her nails. Ross turns several times towards the far wall where the clock sits, hoping he’ll show up under it. Five minutes turned to fifteen and the knot in her stomach grew again with each tick. 

By the twenty minute mark, her worry was too overwhelming and she pushed herself past the doors and to her area. She expected to find him there, still on the phone, but the desk was empty. No note, no Carmy, no worried woman on the phone. There were still a few servers left as she moved again to the back to see if maybe she had missed him, but the lights in the kitchen were already off by the time Ross stepped back in.

He doesn’t reappear all night, not when she takes her bag from the lockers, nor is he standing by her car when she reaches it parked at the end of the block. He doesn’t show up to work the next day either. Or the day after that, or any of the days after. 

At first she tries calling in hopes he’ll pick up with a great explanation on why he went m.i.a., but he never does. So on a saturday morning, she shows up at his place. It seems crazy and invasive in a way, but she’d rather have him think she’s crazy than not know if he’s alright, or alive.

With nervous hands, she reaches up to knock. The door beside his opens up instead, letting her see a short woman cradling a Tabby in her arms.

“He’s not there.” She answers before Ross even has a chance to ask.

“Sorry?”

“If you’re looking for the boy, he’s not there. Fled a couple days ago, in the middle of the night.”

“Fled?”

“Yes, girl, fled- slamming doors n’ all- little disregard for anyone else with a decent sleep schedule…” Is all Ross could hear before the lady slammed the door shut.

The stone steps to the entrance of his building turn her skin cold and the light wind bites over her cheeks. Her trembling hands cradle the thin phone opened up on his contact and her finger hovers over the call button one last time. A sigh escapes her chest once more as she opens her emails instead. 

The approbatory message glows with the artificial light and there’s an ache in her chest that she did not expect would come with the good news. The news she had waited so long to receive, she had passed. All her effort had finally paid off.

Ross felt happy, to an extent. She tried not to think about it too much. Because everytime she did, the memory was polluted by late night dinners, sleepy study sessions and a wave of nauseating blue that reminded her of him.

She stands off the dirty staircase and wipes off the dust from the back of her jeans. Then she readjusts the zipper over the washed out blue shirt and pushes her cold digits into the warmth of her pockets. Ross throws a last glance at the neon sign flashing just beside his empty window and sighs deeply, slowly making her way back to her car with an empty chest.

*********

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat, @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 and that’s it lmao

[improvised-finish]

15 Lines of Dialogue

Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @archaiclumina, thank you so much! (And apologies this took so long to do, it slipped my mind)

Admittedly I don't have a ton of dialogue for Lehon'a written yet and I'm currently working on a story featuring someone else's character for a gift exchange, so I don't have anything really new. But! I figured I could grab a snippet from one of my finished fics to perhaps convince people to give them a quick read. So here's a chunk from one of my Wondrous Tails fics, which you can find in full here!

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

“Hi, Lehon’a… I hope you, uh… haven’t been waiting long,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

“Nah, I just came to get a bit of this stuff in me before we get to spilling our guts, so to speak,” she replied. “D’you want some? I just finished this one, I’ll grab both of us another, if you’d like. On me.”

“Yes, I would. Like one, I mean. Please. And thank you.”

“Of course, G’raha.” She stood up, steadying herself on the edge of the table and making a mental note to order some water in addition to their beverages. “Be back in a sec,” she said as she strode off to the counter, leaving G’raha to sit in one of the two unoccupied chairs.

While Lehon’a was waiting at the counter for the drinks, she watched Y’shtola walk in and scan the crowd for familiar faces. Eventually she spotted Lehon’a, who pointed behind her to where G’raha gave a shy wave. Y’shtola took a seat right as Lehon’a returned with the tray of glasses and the pitcher of water.

“Doesn’t someone usually… bring that to you?” Y’shtola asked, more confused than anything.

“Yeah, but I figured I’d save ‘em the trip since I’d have to walk back over here anyway. Still left a tip, don’t worry about that,” Lehon’a replied, setting the beverages on the table and pouring herself a glass of water.

Y’shtola let out a laugh, shaking her head.

“So getting back to business, as it were,” Lehon’a began, “you’re probably wondering what in the seven hells could be so important that I felt the need to wrangle you both here and intoxicate myself for your amusement.”

“I did notice that after a brief moment ashore you seemed to make haste towards the source of liquor, yes,” Y’shtola said with a wry smile.

Lehon’a’s already red face grew a slightly brighter shade.

“Anyroad,” Lehon’a enunciated, clearly trying to move past that point of discussion. “I wanted to talk with you both after what happened in the vault. And not the fight in general, you both held your own in the heat of battle. I guess what I'm trying to say is… when I went to use a dance to heal all of us, I took your hand,” she continued, gesturing to Y'shtola, “and… well, you both gave me quite a look after that.”

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

Tagging a few folks who I believe also have some writing they might like to share (as always, these are optional, no pressure): @azems-familiar @ferrocyan @sasslett @gatheredfates @otherworldseekers and anyone else who's got dialogue to share!

[idkfitememate]

Hey! 🐗 Here and I know that your oc is very different from another OC but they kinda reminded me of each other, *cough cough priests in mond cough cough* it's from a webtoon called breeze to ascension and I totally recommend it! I don't remember the name of the character right now but the story is really good and I think you might like it, based on my very bad character read lol. Anyway thanks for the answer and oh my gosh Ella, hilichurl OC's for the win!!!!!!!!! She is already in my heart and I love her!!!! Wings!!!! She is just so akbeksjqvmshdbwjs!!! Care to elaborate a little on her? My mind in already making up scenarios with her and I don't even know her lol

-🐗

I don’t usually read Webtoon but I can at least look it up!

Also Ella!! Yay!!! I love her sm I’d be more than happy to talk a bit more about her!

Her entire deal is that she is a winged Churl, which were thought to be extinct. If you look through the Genshin manga (or just look em up), you can see that they existed during the time Mond was under the aristocracy rule!

She is able to speak the common language and has “human” intelligence, making the Mondstadtians feel a bit off and iffy about killing them.

She a take-no-shit give-no-fucks kinda girl. She will fuck you up, no hesitation if you mess with her.

She’s essentially the Churl representative for Mond. Churls & humans have reached a kinda symbolic relationship here because of Ella’s & Ludwig’s attempts!

I can also say this about her, she fucking hates Liyue. She flew over it once, nearly got killed by a certain short Anemo boy. Fucking hates them. She hates a lot of thing ngl-

For world building I like to give them voice lines so here’s a few:

Good Morning: “What are ya doin’ out here? The sun’s barely up and you’re going f’ what? A walk?.. Let me come with. The sleepin’ pile’s gettin’ crowded.”

Good Night: “The moon’s up… Nice time f’ a bonfire beneath the stars… Wanna come? Pretty sure some of m’ mates are gonna sing some songs. You ever danced a Hilichurls waltz?”

Good Afternoon: “It’s nice ta take a moment… jus’ ta breath n’ take it all in… oh. You’re here too, I guess.”

Good Evening: “Nice crisp winds, perfect f’ flyin’. You got one of them uh… wing gliders? If not you can ride m’ back. No right grips or nothin’ though.”

When it Rains: “Guh… hate the rain… makes m’ hair all matted n’ stuff… you know how hard it is to comb ya hair with no hands?”

After the Rain: “Ngh… Now m’ all wet n’ cold n’ shiver-y…”

When it Snows: “GAH?! I don’t fly up Dragonspine f’ a reason!! To cold TO COLD!!”

When the Wind is Blowing: “Finally, some nice weather!”

About Ella: “What do ya wanna know me? M’ a talkin’ Churl who has wings. What else could ya possibly want ta know?”

About: Vision: “Vision? Don’t got one. Doubt the bast… I mean… people up in Celesta would even consider givin’ one to a ‘monster’ like me..”

About Diluc: “Diluc? Ya mean that guy who goes around at night beating m’ friends up? Yeah, hate his guts. Should see how he looks at me when I stroll around town durin’ th’ day.”

About Razor: “Wolfie? Ya I know im’. Nice little thing when ya really talk to im’. Nice hunter too. Gets th’ good stuff heh.”

About Klee: “The amount of time I’ve had ta tell her I ain’t for blowing up is insane. Good kid, don’t get m’ wrong just… uh… I don’t know what ta call her honestly…”

About Albedo: “The weirdo tries ta experiment on me every. Single. Chance he gets. Can’t shake im’ off or nothin’. Hate im’ and hate the way he looks at me… freak…”

I think I’m gonna stop here, but that’s the basis for her! She will beat you up, no hesitation, give her a chance. She will. And I wanna hear some of your ideas now that you know a bit about her! ☆૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა

Also more questions are always welcomed and appreciated!! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 07 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2285 | ao3 link

I wondered if he knew he was the first one to touch me like this. I couldn't resist him. Apparently, he could tell — and he enjoyed it, the power he held over me.

✦ summary: As Cliff's birthday party approaches, Dave and Nore deepen their relationship and feel the sexual tension between them growing stronger and stronger.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female oc, oc is cliff's cousin, nsfw, +18, language, slice of life, mentions of sex, no smut but almost, drinking, smoking, fluff, cliff being cliff (overprotective older cousin), lars being lars (a little shit but in an endearing way), james being a good friend, dave and oc completely in love with each other

✦ a/n: hello! so today i will finish posting the parts that are already on ao3 (parts 7 and 8). later tonight i will release part 9 (which hasn't been posted anywhere yet). after that, i will resume the posting schedule, with new chapters coming every wednesday and sunday. hope you like it, feedback is welcome! ❤

✧ if you love me, be my angel ✧

"Hey, Nore, how about a beach party?"

Cliff's question caught me off guard. I was chilling on the couch, reading a book he had loaned me. It had been a few weeks after I moved in, and after the usual moving tensions, I was starting to feel like I fit in like I’d never felt at home.

"When?"

"For my birthday, this weekend. Joe's folks have a sick beach house, and he's down to let us have the bash there. You coming?"

I grinned.

"Hell yeah, count me in. Wouldn't miss your birthday."

"Awesome. I'll give Lars the heads up and hit up Leanne," he flashed a smile.

"Have you told James and Dave?" I asked, and he shook his head. "I'll give 'em a heads up then."

"Sounds good. But grab me a beer on your way back."

I jumped up, leaving the book on the couch as I headed to the hallway. I breezed through the kitchen and snagged a beer can from the fridge before heading upstairs to Dave's room. I stopped at the door, catching sight of Dave chilling on the bed without a shirt, strumming his guitar, while James kicked back in a chair with a beer in hand. I admired the scene for a moment; when they weren't at each other's throats, those two actually got along pretty well.

"You should, man," James was saying when I arrived. "For real."

"Hey," I said, and they looked at me. Dave flashed a smile and got up.

“Hey, Nore," he said. "Wanna come in?"

"Oh, I didn't want to barge in. I just came to tell you that Cliff said he's having his birthday party at Joe’s this weekend."

"Damn, party at Joe’s! I'm in," James grinned. Dave glanced at him, and they seemed to reach a silent agreement. I watched, curious, as James quickly got up to leave. "I'll give Lars the heads up. Catch ya later, Nore."

"Uh, bye," I said, confused.

He checked out the clothes by the foot of the bed, grabbed a Sex Pistols t-shirt and quickly put it on, running a hand through his hair to fix it. He smiled. "Is that beer for me?"

"Well, it was Cliff's actually, but I'll get him another when I'm back. You can have it," I handed him the beer. He held my wrist, pulling me onto his lap, making me blush.

"So, you going?" he asked.

"Where?"

"Cliff's party."

"Oh, yeah. Are you?"

"Like I'd miss the chance to see my girlfriend rockin' a bikini," he said, flashing a smile and gently brushing my lower lip with his thumb. I blinked, confused, feeling my heart skip a beat.

"Your... girlfriend?" I whispered, puzzled. He let out a soft laugh, and I realized he was a bit flustered. That was definitely new, I thought. He was always so confident, even bordering on cocky. I hadn't seen this side of him before.

"You know, I was just talking to James. I know we said we'd take it slow... with all this stuff happening between us. But he thought it was a good idea, so..." He held my chin in his hand, making me look into his eyes. "I really like you. I think we should be together for real."

I blinked, my heart racing and a sense of happiness welling up in the pit of my stomach.

"You mean..."

"I want you to be my girlfriend, Nore," he said, then glanced away with a sheepish smile. "Of course, if you don’t want to..."

"Dave," I cut him off, placing my hand on his cheek. He always seemed to think that I wouldn't want to be with him, but how could I not? He made me feel accepted. He made me feel safe. He made me feel loved in a way I had rarely felt before. I felt my heart flutter as I answered him, "Of course, I want to."

He didn't say a word, just pulled me close into his lap, his lips meeting mine as he held me tightly in his arms. All I wanted was for him to devour every inch of me. Even in that moment, I could feel the electricity in the air that sparked when we touched, as if we couldn't bear to be apart for too long.

If that was love, then we were way past the point of no return.

There was no turning back.

And I didn't want there to be.

I wasn't sure whether we should tell Cliff and the others about our relationship. I was certain that Cliff would give me a hard time about it one way or another, but Dave convinced me:

"Hey, I'm not going to hide that you're my girlfriend. If we're going to be together for real, I want everyone to know."

Of course, after hearing that, I couldn't deny him anything.

"Come on," he said, taking my hand in his. I smiled as our fingers intertwined. "Let's find Cliff."

We didn't even have to go far. I jumped back in surprise when I opened the door and came face to face with a grinning Lars.

"Lars, what the hell is this?" I yelled. Taking a closer look, I saw Cliff and James leaning against the hallway wall, Cliff looking bored and James barely holding back his laughter.

"So, are you two a thing or what?" Lars asked.

"We're what?"

"Dating! Are you his girlfriend now or not?"

"Oh," I felt my face heat up. "We... Yeah. I am."

"Ha! I knew it!" Lars celebrated. James chuckled, and Cliff rolled his eyes.

"Wait. How did you know? And what are you three doing here?" Dave asked, furrowing his brow. "Were you spying on us or something?"

"I just told them you wanted some alone time with Nore," James explained himself. "The rest Lars figured out on his own, and he dragged us here to confirm."

"You sneaky bastard, Lars," I said, smiling in disbelief. "Unbelievable."

"Hey, I ain't to blame if you two are the most obvious couple in California," he answered, making everyone laugh. Dave wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close and planting a gentle kiss on my forehead, and I smiled as his embrace surrounded me.

A month ago, I could hardly imagine feeling so alive like this. Yet, here I was, living with my cousin, dating the guy I liked, and having new friends who truly cared about me.

I couldn't be happier.

The weekend of Cliff's party started off sunny, although a bit chilly, which got me excited. I woke up early and packed my swimsuit and everything I needed in a bag, then loaded it all into the borrowed van. James was loading the van with crates of beer when I arrived.

"Hey, are we good to go?" he asked.

"Not yet," I answered. "Lars and Dave are still asleep. Cliff left. I think he went to pick up Leanne."

"Yeah, he did. Just talked to me a sec ago before he split. But you know those two, they'll be running late 'cause they're busy fucking again," he chuckled. I laughed, feeling a bit awkward. "Hey, mind lending' a hand with this stuff?" he asked. I nodded and started helping him load up the van.

We were quietly working for a bit until he asked, "So, how's it going with, uh, you and him?"

"Him?" I questioned.

"Yeah, Dave," he clarified.

"Oh," I blushed, "It's going well."

He chuckled. I gave him a curious look.

"You blush so easily," he shrugged.

"It's not on purpose, I swear."

"Nah, but it's cute," he smiled, "Just don't tell Dave I said that. He might throw a punch at me... again. Looks like you're surrounded by some jealous dudes, huh?"

"That's not on purpose either," I chuckled, awkwardly.

I handed him the last crate of beers, and he placed it in the back of the van.

"I'll go fetch Lars. You should wake up Dave… Before Cliff shows up," he said, grinning.

I headed inside the house, quickly climbed the stairs, and hesitated at the door of Dave's room. I turned the knob and let out a soft giggle at how he was sprawled out asleep on the bed. I shut the door before stepping in and perched on the edge of the bed, giving his arm a gentle shake.

“Dave...?” I whispered. He turned in bed, opening his eyes amidst a mess of ginger hair, and smiled when he saw me.

"Hey," he said, taking my hand and kissing it, making me smile.

"Good morning."

"Come here," he said, shifting in bed, making room for me. I lay down beside him, and he pulled me into his arms. I nuzzled his chest, feeling comfortable in the warmth of the bed and his body. He kissed my forehead and breathed, "You're adorable, you know that?"

I blushed, wondering why he was being so affectionate. Maybe he was just sleepy, but it didn't matter — I loved it when he praised me.

He held me with one hand on my waist, pulling me close effortlessly as he buried his face in my neck, using his other hand to lift my leg and place it around his hip. I shivered as he kissed the base of my neck and then my collarbone. 

"Cliff left, didn't he?" he whispered, his lips against my skin.

"Yes," I whispered back, my heart racing. 

"So no one's going to bother us now?" I could feel his smile against my neck. 

"I hope not," I said, softly. 

He held me firmly, turning me in bed as if I weighed nothing, and rose, kneeling with his legs around my hips as he took off his shirt. I stared at him, his dark eyes in the dimness of the room, his hair a mess of curls; I could see in his gaze that he wanted to devour me right there.

I was completely surrendered to him.

He held my brown hair firmly in one hand, his lips meeting mine in a kiss as his tongue eagerly invaded my mouth, his other hand holding my hip vigorously as he pressed his hips against mine. I moaned in his kiss when I felt his erection against me, my heart racing as my whole body shivered. I wondered if he knew he was the first one to touch me like this. I couldn't resist him. Apparently, he could tell — and he enjoyed it, the power he held over me.

Dave moves his hips slowly against mine while his kisses trailed off to my neck again. I raised my legs, placing them around his waist and bringing him closer to me while his hand cupped my face softly. He lightly bit my neck as I held onto his arms, my nails digging into his skin as my breath quickened. 

"Dave..." I whispered. He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes and smiling sweetly. I felt my face flush as he caressed my lower lip with his thumb, his brown eyes getting lost in my blue ones. In that moment, all I wanted was to stay in his arms forever. 

Of course, that's when we heard someone knocking on the door.

We froze, waiting. After a few seconds, the knocking repeated, followed by Cliff's voice. 

"Hey, you guys ready? We're already heading out." 

"Fuck," Dave growled, getting up and forcefully swinging open the door, revealing Cliff leaning against the frame in a relaxed position, holding a lit joint in his hand. "Damn it, Cliff! Why did you have to butt in now?"

"Oh, did I disturb something?" he asked, smirking with irony. 

"Yeah, you did. Everyone has to wait when you go to Leanne's place, but now you're busting in on us? Come on, man!" 

"Well, at least I don't make everyone late," Cliff answered, coldly. "Get dressed or I'll leave you behind. Hurry up, Nore."

I quickly got up and left the room, blushing as my eyes met Cliff's. He seemed to be enjoying my embarrassment, but I didn't say a word to him. I walked outside and got into the van, sitting next to Leanne with an annoyed sigh.

“Rough morning?” she asked with a smile.

"Thanks to Cliff, that moron," I grumbled. She let out a little chuckle. 

"He cares about you, you know?" 

"A bit too much." 

"Well, it's nice to have someone who looks out for you like that, isn't it?" she smiled. "So, what did he do this time, anyway?"

“Ruined the moment, like always.” I grumbled, feeling my face heat up. She laughed. 

"You and Dave were...?"

"No!" I blurted out, then buried my face in my hands, embarrassed.

"Okay, maybe... almost," I confessed. 

"Hey, think about it this way. At least you dodged the whole pregnancy scare thing, right?" 

I arched an eyebrow. Honestly, that hadn't even crossed my mind.

"Guess I should be thankful then," I mumbled, and she let out a soft chuckle.

James and Lars popped out of the house and hopped into the van. James took the driver's seat while Lars settled in the one right in front of us. 

"Morning, ladies," Lars greeted with a smirk. He glanced at me and snickered. "You know you've got a hickey on your neck, right?" 

I blushed, instinctively covering my neck with my hand but stayed silent.

Soon, Dave and Cliff showed up. Dave plopped down next to me, while Cliff squeezed in beside Lars, arms crossed. The atmosphere became slightly tense. Dave wrapped his arms around my shoulders as the two of them locked eyes in a tense stare-down.

I sighed. This trip was gonna be one hell of a ride.

[multifandomfanfiction]

You’re On Your Own, Kid Chapter 2

TITLE: You’re On Your Own, Kid Chapter 2 PAIRING: Bob/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 2/? SUMMARY: Caroline Kazansky’s birth was the Navy’s worst kept secret. Taken in by Admiral Kazansky after being dropped on his doorstep months after her birth, her true father has been kept a secret from her. Her father is none other than her adoptive father’s wingman, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. So what happens when she’s called back to Top Gun? And what happens when she catches the eye of a shy WSO?

They heard Penny ring the bell and everyone around them cheered.

“Oh, come on,” Hangman said as he took his shot. He stood up and said, “What do we have here?”

A woman walked in with two men following her.

“If it ain’t Phoenix! And here I thought we were special, Kami.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “You’re special alright, Hangman.”

Hangman ignored her comment and leaned back on the pool table. “Turns out the invite went to anyone.”

“Fellas, this here’s Bagman,” Phoenix said.

“Hangman.”

“Whatever.”

Caroline could get to like Phoenix. She loved anyone who put Hangman in his place.

“Boys, you’re looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

“Please don’t inflate his ego any more than it already is,” Caroline said.

“Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War.”

“Cold War,” Coyote corrected her.

“Different wars, same century,” one of the guys with Phoenix said. His uniform said “Fitch.”

“Not this one,” the other said. His uniform read “Garcia.”

Caroline laughed. “I think I just found my new best friends.”

“Who are your friends?” Coyote asked.

“Payback,” Fitch said.

“Fanboy,” Garcia said.

“Hey Coyote,” Phoenix said.

“Hey.”

Phoenix turned to Caroline, who wasn’t in uniform.

“Caroline Kazansky,” Caroline supplied.

Fanboy’s eyes went wide. “You’re the Admiral’s daughter!”

Caroline had a feeling she was gonna get sick and tired of hearing that.

Phoenix cocked her head to the side. “Who’s he?”

“Who’s who?” Coyote asked.

Phoenix turned to the bespeckled aviator who was wiping peanuts from his uniform pants.

“When did you get in?”

“I…I’ve been here the whole time.”

So not only was the aviator cute, he also had a cute accent.

“The man’s a stealth pilot,” Hangman joked.

“Literally,” Coyote said.

The joke was lost on him unfortunately.

“Oh, Weapon Systems Officer, actually.”

And he was a WSO? This guy kept getting better and better.

“With no sense of humor,” Hangman said. Hangman handed his pool cue to Phoenix and walked away.

“What do they call you?” Phoenix asked.

“Bob,” he said.

“No, your callsign,” Payback told him.

“Uh…Bob.”

“Bob Floyd. You’re my new backseater? From Lemoore?” Phoenix asked.

Bob nodded. “Looks like it. Yeah.”

Phoenix handed him the pool cue. “Nine-ball, Bob. Rack ‘em.”

Bob stood up. “Okay.” He took the pool cue from Phoenix and came to stand by Caroline.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Bob said.

“I’m Caroline.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Caroline blushed. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

God, Rooster would tease her if he knew she was blushing right now.

Speak of the devil.

Rooster came strutting into the bar.

Caroline squealed and dropped her pool cue. “ROOSTER!” She ran to the man who caught her in his arms.

“Hey Caroline.”

“Oh my god. I’ve missed you. When did you get in? What’s up with the mustache? Is that one of your father’s shirts?”

Rooster chuckled. “Slow down, motor mouth.”

“Sorry…I’ve…”

“Missed me. I missed you too, Lina.”

Rooster was the only person she let call her Lina.

They walked over to the pool tables.

“This is how I find out you’re stateside?” Phoenix asked him.

“Yeah, I just thought I’d surprise you.”

Phoenix leaned over to take her shot and jammed her pool cue into Rooster’s ribs, causing him to double over. “Guess I surprised you back.”

Rooster looked up at her. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

Rooster patted her on the arm.

Hangman returned to the pool tables and handed a beer to Coyote and Caroline. “Bradshaw. As I leave and breathe.”

“Hangman,” Rooster said as Hangman took the pool cue from Bob. “You look…good.”

“Well, I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.” Hangman took his turn at the pool table and stood up to his full height. “In fact, I am too good to be true.”

Caroline turned to Bob and held out her beer. “You want one?”

Bob shook his head. “Oh, no. I don’t drink.”

One more point in his favor.

“So, anybody know what this special detachment is about?” Payback asked.

Everyone turned to Caroline. “What? I may be an Admiral’s daughter but that doesn’t mean my father tells me anything.”

“A mission’s a mission. They don’t confront me. What I wanna know: Who’s gonna be team leader? And which one of ya’ll has what it takes to follow me?” Hangman asked.

Caroline rolled her eyes. Every one of them had a chance to be team leader.

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave,” Rooster said.

Hangman approached Rooster and got right in his face.

Caroline was tempted to step between them, but she knew her godbrother could handle himself.

“Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel. But that’s just you ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch, waitin’ for just the right moment…that never comes.” Hangman walked away and Caroline breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, he hasn’t changed,” Phoenix said.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t.” Rooster walked off, probably to get himself a drink.

“Check it out. More patches,” Fanboy said.

“That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha. Shit, that’s Fritz,” Payback listed off.

“What the hell kind of mission is this?”

“That’s not the question we should be asking. Everyone here is the best there is. Who the hell are they gonna get to teach us?” Phoenix asked.

Rooster pulled the plug on the jukebox and started playing around on the piano.

“Hey guys. Come on,” Phoenix said.

They joined Rooster at the piano and Rooster tapped the top. “Hop on up for me, darlin’.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, but obliged her godbrother.

Penny rung the bell and people started yelling “Overboard!”

Caroline turned to the bar and saw a man she’d only ever seen in pictures. Her father’s wingman Pete “Maverick” Mitchell being dragged out by Hangman and Coyote.

That could mean only one thing.

Maverick was teaching this mission.

Series Taglist: @maverick-wingman​ @justanothermagicalsara @xcastawayherosx​

Lewis Pullman Taglist: @tallrock35​

[ourtearsofrain]

Mon Beau (J.T.K/O.C) (Save a Horse Universe)

Summary: Continuation/offshoot of Ride a Cowboy; what happens between Sebastian and Jake that night.

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Male OC

Genre: fluff, teeny bit of angst if you squint, drabble

Word Count: 2 k

Warnings: none, they’re cute and gay; Sparrow (Sebastians’ sibling) is a little protective, mentions some shitty things Seb has been through with past partners but nothing graphic or traumatic; brief mentions/implication of sex between Sam and Danny, and Austin and Josh but as lighthearted comments or jokes.

A/N: I would highly highly recommend reading Save a Horse and Ride a Cowboy, (and Salty Dogs, Anyone?) as this is a continuation/offshoot of Ride a Cowboy. Hope y’all like this short little fic, I’ve really enjoyed expanding on the stories of the boys and their oc boyfriends :)

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

[Brief excerpt from Ride a Cowboy as a timeline reminder]:

Once again, he taps his brother on the shoulder to get his attention. “Hey Jake, Sam and I are heading out. Josh is getting a ride with Austin, so either catch a ride with him or leave now with us.”

Just as his twin had done, he asks “Are you guys ok?”

“Yep, just tired.”

Jake looks towards Sam, also immediately knowing what was going on. “Uh huh, well, get some rest guys.”

“I can give you a ride home if you’d like, mon beau.”

Jake and Danny both smile at Sirena as Sam is too busy staring at his boyfriend in the cowboy hat to respond to her offer to Jake.

“Thanks, Sebastian.” Jake turns to Danny and Sam once more, “See you guys later, have fun and get some rest.”

“Thanks Jake, see ya.” Danny says before turning away, finally pulling Sam towards the exit.

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

Both watch as the other boys make their way briskly towards the exit.

“They look mighty eager to get home.” Sebastian laughs.

Jake turns back towards him, chuckling. “Yeah well, I’m just glad I live with Josh and not Sam. I think I would have killed myself if they had gotten together in high school and I had to hear them through the thin ass walls.”

Sebastian lets a loud laugh loose at this, covering his mouth with his hand. Jake smiles at him questioningly, "Why are you covering your mouth? You have a great smile.”

His hand drops as he looks down self-consciously. “Well, mon beau, you may think that but, it’s kind of a subconscious habit at this point. Other kids weren’t the nicest in high school so, like I said, it’s habit.”

“You have a gorgeous smile, Sebastian.”

He smiles wide at this, his hand starting to come back up before stopping himself. “Thank you, mon beau.”

The song changes to something Jake recognizes as a favorite of Josh’s. He automatically looks over to his twin, seeing his clear excitement from across the room. He smiles from knowing Josh was having fun with Austin.

“You alright, mon beau?”

Jake turns towards Sebastian again with a smile still on his face. “Yeah, Josh loves this song and looks like he’s having fun, I’m happy for him.”

Sebastian glances over at Josh and Austin, smiling with Jake. “Him and his man look like they’re enjoying themselves. They make a cute couple.”

“I know right??” he exclaims. “Josh’s been into him for a while but never made a move. Hopefully one of them will tonight.”

Sebastian raises his eyebrows, still looking at Josh and Austin. “Well, mon beau, looks like one of ‘em just did.”

Jake whips around towards them, to see them swaying gently as they kiss. “Fucking finally!” he says with a grin.

Sebastians attention turns towards Jake again. “It’s sweet how happy you are for your brothers.”

He shrugs, “They’re my brothers. I love them and want them to be happy.”

As if summoned, Jake feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to see Josh and Austin behind him.

“Hey, Austin and I are heading back to our place, need a ride?”

“Na,” Jake nods towards Sebastian, “Sebastian’s taking me home. You guys better be done by the time I get back, I swear to god if I hear anything, I’m smothering you with a pillow while you’re asleep.”

Jake sees a blush fall across Josh and Austins cheeks, before Josh rolls his eyes as he replies, “We’re not gonna do anything, Jake. Stop being so melodramatic."

Jake smiles, “Uh huh, right. Either way, have fun.”

Josh shakes his head at his twin, “Thanks, Jake. See you later.” He says before turning away, grabbing Austin’s hand and intertwining their fingers as they make their way towards the door.

Jake focuses on Sebastian and their dance again as the song changes.

“If not for you,

Babe, I couldn’t even find the door.

I couldn’t even see the floor.

I’d be sad and blue, if not for you.”

“I love this song.” Jake says with a smile.

“George Harrison, right?”

“Yeah, it is. I like The Beatles, but think his standalone music is just as great.” Jake thinks for a moment, “Actually, I think I have this album on vinyl.”

“Well then, you’ll have to play it when I come over to see your pirate coins.”

Jake grins, remembering their deal to show each other their various pirate-themed collections of trinkets. “Of course!”

They slowly dance through the song, changing their pace as another, faster one starts as the closing notes of the song conclude. They dance through so many songs, laughing and making light conversation as they go, that they lose count of them all. Jake finally fails at containing a yawn, having danced so long and late that his feet were sore and his body exhausted.

“Tired, mon beau?”

“Little bit, but it’s alright if you need to stay later.”

Sebastian shakes his head at him, already stopping their dance to lead Jake towards the performers exit to the back room. “They’ll be fine if I split now, it’s getting late anyways. You fine waitin’ out here while I change?”

They stop next to an empty two-person table near the door and Jake slides onto the stool. “Of course.”

Sebastian offers a small smile at him, “Alrighty, I’ll be 10 minutes, at most.”

“No rush.” Jake says, before he turns away and disappears behind the door. He pulls his phone out, sending a text to Josh saying, “Heading back in 10 ish. Like I said you guys better be decent when I get there.”, before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

He sits in silence for about five minutes, listening to the music and taking in the bar and its remaining patrons, before he's approached by a familiar looking person coming out of the performers exit. Her fishnet shirt replaced by a black shirt and cozy knit vest, and her hair different; her platinum bun gone and instead a short, dark mullet of clean coils. Jake recognizes her as Sparrow, Sebastians sibling. She sits down across from him, her expression unreadable.

“You’re Jake.” She says, more as a statement than a question.

“Uh, yeah?”

“I’m Sara, Sebastians sister.”

Jake smiles at her, “Nice to meet you, Sara.”

She doesn’t return his smile, face still cool and collected as she stares him down.

“Seb’s nervous about you seein’ him out of drag. He’s too nice to say it to your face but, he is.”

Jake’s brows furrow, “What? Why?”

“My guess? He’s worried you won’t be attracted to him outta drag too. I’m only gonna say this once, ya hear me? I’ve seen boys like you toy with my brother cause they think he’s hot in drag, and then split the second they see him outta it cause they’re hit with the realization he’s a man and they ain’t ready to confront their sexualities. I am fiercely protective of him, and he deserves better than that. For some reason he thinks you’re somthin’ special and he really likes you. So for that, I’ll give you one warnin’. If you hurt him like that, I’ll hurt you. If you ain’t ready to understand and recognize he’s a man, makin’ you queer, you better leave now before he gets back out here. That’ll hurt him less than you pretendin’ and goin’ along with it.”

“I understand.” Jake says solemnly, “Him and I talked about that, I know that whatever happens between us makes me queer, the last thing I want is to hurt him. I truly like him for who he is. I swear.”

This eases some of Sara’s worries, her body physically relaxing as the tension leaves. “Good. You seem like a nice guy, I don’t mean to scare you off or nothin’.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. I admire how much you care for him. I have brothers myself, so I understand.”

She slides out of the bar stool, “Well in that case, Jake, ya’ll have fun. Imma split before Seb gets back, I hope to be seein’ you again.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Jake offers a smile of goodbye, and this time she returns it before walking away, snaking her way through the diminishing groups of people to get to the bar’s exit.

Jake is still focused on the door, not realizing that Sebastian had come out until he hears him. “Ready to go, mon beau?”

His head turns towards his voice, seeing Sebastian out of drag for the first time, long locs shortened, makeup gone, and wearing a simple red corduroy jacket overtop a loose black shirt. He stares for a second, seeing Sebastians’ expression go from confusion to worry. “You alright, Jake?”

He manages to organize his thoughts into a sentence, still staring at Sebastian in wonder. “You’re beautiful.”

His thoughts catch up to his mouth as a look of bashful confusion passes over Sebastians’ face. “I mean, you were beautiful before, too. But, just, wow.”

Sebastian smiles at him, “Thank you. You’re beautiful too, mon beau. Glad you ain’t scared or turned off by how I look now cause I’ll tell ya right now, this is how I look 90% of the time.”

Jake makes no move to get off his stool, still awestruck by Sebastian. “Well, ready to head out?”

This snaps him out of it, “Oh! Uh, yeah.” he says as he gets off his stool and heads towards the door with Sebastian.

“Do I needa pull up google maps or you know the way back to your place from here?”

“I got it, it’s not far.”

They walk to the car in comfortable silence, only broken by quiet music from the radio as Sebastian starts his car. Jake begins directing Sebastian to his house as a feeling of dread in his stomach grows as they get closer. Sebastian pulls into his driveway, shifting the car into park before speaking.

“Here you are, mon beau.”

“Thanks for the ride.” He starts, still not wanting to get out of the car. “Do you- do you want to get drinks or go to dinner or something soon?”

Sebastian smiles, glad Jake asked the question he had been worrying over the entire car ride. “I’d love to, mon beau. Here, give me your phone. I’ll put my number in.”

He hands him his phone, all former dread leaving his body, happy with the confirmation that he would be seeing him again soon. He hands his phone back, signaling that it was time for them to part ways.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Course you can, Jake.”

Their kiss is as sweet and slow as it had been back in the bar, only now with a little less lipstick. Neither want it to end, but Sebastian eventually pulls away, resting his forehead on Jake’s as they sit for a second in content silence. “As much as I hate goodbyes, you should probably go check on your brother. Try not to kill him if him and his man are still havin’ fun, I quite liked him in the, albeit brief interaction we had.”

Jake snorts, remembering Josh and Austin had gone back to their place for the night. “Yeah, I’ll try. No promises though.” He finally opens the car door, saying, “Thank you for tonight, Sebastian. See you soon.” before getting out.

“Thank you for tonight too, mon beau. See ya soon, you have my number.”

Jake smiles at him before closing the door and walking towards his house. He unlocks the door, fighting the urge to loudly announce his presence as he hears a movie playing faintly from the living room. He locks the door behind him before making his way towards the sound to investigate.

He finds the end of Dirty Dancing playing on the TV, with Josh and Austin passed out together on the couch, Josh laying on top of Austin, whose arms are wrapped protectively around the other man. Jake laughs to himself quietly, thankful that they were both fully clothed. He turns the TV off and lays a blanket over the pair, before grabbing their empty glasses off the coffee table and taking them to their kitchen.

Jake makes his way towards his room as he tries to decide whether he should text Sebastian. He finally gives in, despite his slight anxieties, and sends a short text to him: “This is Jake, now you have my number too :)”

He sets his phone down on his bedside table before starting his nightly routine, trying not to think too much about if Sebastian had replied. To his delight, he comes back to see a notification from him: “Thanks, mon beau. Get some sleep it’s late, talk more tomorrow <3”

He smiles to himself as he climbs into bed, turning the light off and trying to fall asleep despite his racing mind stuck on thoughts of where he should take him. He manages to fall asleep, content and thoughts still full of Sebastian.

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

Songs mentioned:

If Not For You- George Harrison

[herbalsingularitea]

Holly Jolly (Chapter 12)

Summary - “That’s good. You’re so good.”

Oh god, she wasn’t good, actually. No, no. She was so very bad. He was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he? Asshole. 

Pairing - Bernard x Female OC

Word Count - 5235

Warning - This chapter is rated M for some mature themes

Check my pinned masterpost for ‘Bernard x Reader’ and Male OC versions!

Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter

Chapter 12 - Walking In A Winter Wonderland

Bernard hadn’t even dismounted from his snowmobile before Holly had run up and exclaimed, “Where’s Tiny Dancer?” with an absolutely devastated look on her face. 

He snickered at her theatrics, turning off the snowmobile and standing up in one fluid motion. “She’s not coming tonight. We’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?” 

“Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“It’s fine, really. What the others don’t know won’t hurt ‘em. You aren’t gonna see anything too major anyways, so it’s not even technically against protocol. This way I’m saving us a lot of paperwork and headaches.”

She looked unsure, her eyes squinted in suspicion. He scoffed. 

“It’s fine! I promise. Quit worrying about it, alright?”

“It’s just a little unlike you to go against ‘protocol’, Saint Bernard.” She lifted her hands and air quoted as she spoke, a teasing smirk directed at the man before her. 

“Hey, c’mon! You know I’m all about schedules, not protocols. I swear, it’s like you don’t even know me!” he cried, his hands gesturing wildly. A startled laugh escaped her as he suddenly pointed a finger in her face. “As long as the job gets done, then I don’t care. When you’re in charge, you gotta learn to compromise some things, Holly Jolly!” 

“Just not the schedule, though.”

“Precisely!” He jutted his finger forward again and Holly giggled. 

“Okay, okay! I get it! Sheesh.” She brushed his finger to the side and stepped into his open arms. He wrapped her up in a hug, chuckling as she nuzzled into his scarf. “So did you account for this little spat in the schedule too, then?” she asked. 

“Well…”

“You nut.”

Bernard laughed as he squeezed her once before letting go and stepping away. The scent of pine and nutmeg trailed after him. 

“Alright, so here’s the rundown. We’re gonna head out towards the party, then stop in at my house and eat dinner while we wait to hear from Judy. She’ll let us know when we can come out to the lake. We’ll meet up with her and Belle, do some skating, have some drinks—it’ll be fun.” 

“Hold up, pause. Your house ? You have a house here ?”

“Yeah, did I not mention that?”

“Uh, no, you didn’t.” She sputtered, eyes wide and disbelieving. “What the hell do you mean you have a house here? Like a ‘house’ house?”

“I told you, I’ve been working here practically my whole life—a lot of us have. We don’t all just live at work. We have houses we stay in.”

“So it’s like a village then?”

“Yes! It’s precisely like a village.”

“But how? Wouldn’t someone somewhere have noted that there’s a village all the way up here? I mean, surely you would see it by plane if you flew over, or picked it up on radar or something, right?”

“No, not really. We have ways of concealing our presence up here. You’ll see.”

“Man, Morozko is crazy serious about their privacy, huh? I feel kind of lucky I get to know about any of this, let alone see it!” 

The smile on his face was warm and wide. “It’s definitely not common to let outsiders in, that’s for sure. But I trust you.”

There was a fluttering in her chest as her heart swelled. She returned his smile, resolving to never break the trust he’d so effusively placed in her. 

He turned back towards the snowmobile and waved his hand out wide in an elegant bow. “Well, then! Your chariot, miss?”

She snorted and brushed past him, eyes rolling. “Yeah, yeah. You might be prince charming, but I’m certainly no princess!” 

“Nah, definitely not.”

“Hey!”

--

They had been riding quite a while now, Bernard seated in front of her driving the snowmobile expertly through the tundra. The landscape on the way there had mostly been the same white flatlands she’d seen for weeks now. Now however, they were starting to pass larger chunks of ice and snow drifts that created a maze of trails that twisted and turned. She had a hard time keeping track of where they’d been and where they were going. 

A flash of green caught Holly’s eye as they sped past jagged icy towers. 

“What is that?”

“Huh?” Bernard turned his head to look in the same direction. “Oh! A hot spring.”

“There’s a hot spring up here too?! Okay, I’m actually mad you didn’t tell me about that. I’ve been wiping off with cold rags for weeks.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, that’s definitely not low profile. Maybe someday, though!”

She sighed wistfully. “Yeah, maybe.”

They turned a corner and were met with a shimmering ice wall that glowed pink, no green, no… blue?—different colors. Like the northern lights. It pulsated a color she’d never seen before and an energy buzzed deep in Holly’s head. Her mind filled with uncomfortable static, and her stomach clenched as her fight or flight instincts were triggered. The feeling was abruptly overwhelming. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forehead pressing against Bernard’s back as she struggled to stay composed. 

“Hey, you okay?” His voice was cautious and solemn. 

“Yeah… I-I don’t know.” She breathed in again, deep and trembling. “I can’t think… I’m, I-I can’t…” She leaned back and blinked hard, opening her eyes to see that they’d stopped right in front of the wall. 

A huge mountainous cavern was before them, its entrance stretching far to the right and left beyond the horizon. She couldn’t tell how big the opening was exactly—it seemed to go for miles and miles. The ice wall was sealed over the mouth of the cavern, translucent but distorting what was inside it. Whatever was there, though, was colorful and vast. 

The Village, she thought. It must be. 

But it didn’t look as dark in there as she thought it should. It was lit up and cozy, almost like daylight. But that much light couldn’t just be from floodlights and houses. It was almost like the ice barrier itself lit up the space, casting its oppressive buzzing color onto everything. She couldn’t make sense of any of this. 

“Bernard, what is that?” she whimpered. 

Her hands twisted into his green cloak and her breathing sped up as she stared at the frozen wall. She felt uncomfortably seen, like she was being watched and judged. But not by Bernard, no. By it— that thing . Its looming color shining on her face and challenging her to either comprehend it or turn back now. 

She gulped. 

“It’s how we keep our privacy,” he replied. “One of the ways, at least. It’s a barrier.” He turned his body to grasp her hands in his. “It’s okay, Holly. Everything’s fine.”

“I don’t feel fine.”

“It’s just checking you out. Making sure you aren’t a threat. The barrier won’t let people in who aren’t meant to be here.”

“But I’m not meant to be here!”

He tucked a loose strand of her hair back under her hood, something heavy and pensive glimmering in his dark eyes. “Maybe you are, though.” 

Her brows pinched at his cryptic response, but before she could formulate a reply, there was another deep pulse. Bernard’s mouth fell open, his breathing uneven as he turned back to the barrier. 

An archway had suddenly appeared in the ice wall, grandly carved images of polar bears in the frame. He huffed a short laugh, a wide smile splitting his handsome face and pure joy in his eyes. 

“Okay!” He cleared his throat, visibly composing himself. “Huh, wow. Okay, so we’re good!”

“We are?”

“Yeah,” he nodded emphatically, “we’re fine.” The significant look he sent towards the barrier was lost on her. “We can go in.”

She didn’t understand what had happened but Bernard seemed to think it was quite remarkable. At least one of them was happy, she supposed. 

The polar bear carvings on the entrance frame were incredibly detailed. Every scene had two bears in it, cuddling or playing in a variety of ways. Whatever technology Morozko used to create this barrier was obviously very advanced, but it was also unbelievably beautiful. 

She knew they were the best of the best, but this was a whole other level. She tried not to feel too intimidated by it all. 

As they crossed the threshold, she noticed the amount of snow falling dropped drastically. They were inside the cavern now, so this made sense of course. She looked up to see the barrier stretching inside the confines of the cavern. The rocky ceiling was extremely high up, she could tell that much. But the frosty mist that hung in the air blocked her view too much to tell just how high it went. A snowflake landed on the tip of her nose and she noticed that some snow was blowing in through the ice barrier from the outside. She quickly looked away and tried not to stress about the logistics of that particular phenomenon. 

She trusted Bernard. His world was strange, but so was he. That didn’t mean he wasn’t also amazing. 

All of this was giving her a headache, but she would just have to put it out of her mind for now, and focus on him. She was here to have a good time with her—uh, well, her whatever-he-was. 

They hadn’t exactly established that they were in a relationship, but they were definitely more than friends now. He wasn’t her boyfriend. That label didn’t feel quite right even if they were dating. Not quite a significant other—more like close friends. Very, very close friends. Who enjoyed hugging each other. And also holding hands. And she wouldn’t mind a kiss, honestly. 

She swallowed at that thought, and buried her face against his back again. She felt him turn briefly to look at her before focusing on driving once more. “Almost there,” he murmured. 

She felt them stop again and looked up. A huge two story cottage stood tall against the white backdrop. She dismounted the snowmobile and backed up to get a better look. The foundation was stone, with wood making up the majority of the house. It had a small staircase leading up to an oaken back door, stained dark and glossy. The windows were lovely and grand, overhangs decorated with evergreen branches. The roof was topped with red tiles, lightly sparkling with a thin dusting of snow. It looked like an incredibly old house, but the exact style wasn’t something she could quite put her finger on. 

Several short blue spruce trees were growing along the house, various lights and decorations hanging from their branches. 

She walked up to one at the end of the row and touched its branch. 

It was real. 

She blinked and stepped back again, looking around at their surroundings. The frosty mist hung thick in the air, the distant light of the barrier only slightly coloring things as it pulsated. She could just make out lights in the distance, and from their shape and placement she assumed they were houses, but they were a great ways away. 

She heard the oak door come unstuck and creek open. She turned back towards Bernard to see him holding it for her, so she hurried over to join him. 

She shook her boots off and stepped through into Bernard’s home. He shut the door behind them and began removing his cloak and hood. She mindlessly started doing the same with her own outerwear as she took in the dimly lit hallway they now stood in. 

The walls were a dark green color that complimented the dark oak of the bottom paneling and furniture. A door to her right opened into a space under the stairs that she assumed was either a closet or bathroom. Further down the hallway, a small table was set up with various pictures set up on display, some on the table itself and some hanging on the wall above it. Beyond that was a foyer and the front door, another dark oak piece with lovely carved filigree in the frame and side windows on either side with stained glass in blue, green, and yellow. 

Bernard’s home smelled like him, but there was a lingering scent of dust in the air. Old houses sometimes smelled like that. Despite this, everything looked very clean. She turned to hang her coat on the stand by the back door and was stunned at the sight that greeted her. 

Bernard stood straight with his hands behind his back, watching her take in his home. His usual style of dress was swapped for a black long sleeve tunic that had silver fastenings in the front instead of the brass buttons that she usually saw running down his back. The accents around the high collar and the sleeves were also silver. Over that he wore a silver vest, the ends touching the tops of his black breeches held up by a silver buckled belt. 

But what really struck her was the hat he wore on his head. 

It was a fur hat, black and soft looking. The shape was odd though. Circular and somewhat tall. 

“Your beret! You switched it out?”

“Well, It’s been awhile so I thought I’d dust off my old shtreimel. I usually only wear it for special occasions.”

“It’s so cool! You look great!”

He really did. As always, his outfit was eccentric, but it fit him well. The black and silver suited him, making his dark eyes stand out even more. 

She blinked at the shadow on the lower half of his face. She’d never seen him with any kind of stubble before. 

She herself had dressed up as much as she could for this night. She wore her cleanest blue puff pants and a purple turtleneck that was often covered in the many layers she donned each day. Bernard usually only saw her in her overcoat, puff pants, scarf, muffs, and hat. Sometimes when they spent time in the tent, she’d remove her coat, but underneath she had on a slightly less puffy coat, so her whole figure was left to the imagination, really. 

She hung her outerwear up now and tugged nervously at her sweater. She wasn’t naive by any means. She knew that looks weren’t entirely irrelevant when it came to attraction. She and Bernard had hit it off, but what if he didn’t like how she looked under her layers? 

Perhaps it was a silly problem to consider that he might only like her for who she was as a person and not for how she looked, but nonetheless, she found her posture hunching in self-consciously. 

“Oh, wow,” Bernard caught her wrists and gently pulled them out from her torso, looking her up and down with a spark in his eye. “You look great too!” 

She snorted softly. “It’s just a turtleneck. You’re the one dressed all fancy.”

Heat sizzled in his gaze as he took in her form, a small smile curling his lips as he moved his hands from her wrists to her waist. “Fair. I’m not really talking about the outfit, though.” 

A squeak escaped her as her hands flew up to clasp heated cheeks. She felt his thumb rub slightly along her side and her stomach tightened in response. His head stayed angled low, but his eyes flitted up to lock with hers, a smirk peeking out from the dark curls framing his face. 

A weak smile twitched between her flushed cheeks. 

“Oh, you are smooth .”

“Thanks, I try.”

She huffed a laugh and stepped into his arms more. Dark eyes widened—he obviously wasn’t expecting that. Delicate fingers trailed up his tunic, tugging here and there at the silver trimmings. The shy grin she’d sported before sharpened into a smirk. 

She leaned up close to his face and gave him a chaste kiss on his stubbled cheek before stepping back. “Your house is gorgeous, Bernard. How about a tour?”

A dazed blink before the moment caught up with him and his unfocused eyes squinted at her. Huh, okay. Two could play that game. 

He nodded and gestured for her to walk ahead of him. 

“So, this is the foyer here, and over there” he gestured to the open archway to the right of the stairs, “is the den. My office is through that door there too.”

The den was set a step lower than the rest of the floor, with a fireplace on the far wall and a couch and two armchairs circling it. There was a cushioned window seat to the left with a multitude of potted plants surrounding it and another oak door to the right—his office.

“Your office, huh? You work from here a lot?”

“Not really, it’s mostly used for home projects now. Hobbies. Things like that. But I don’t know, I’ve been so busy lately, I can’t even remember the last time I was in there.” 

“What kind of hobbies?”

“Gardening mostly. I had an herb garden once upon a time, but now I just have whatever’s left in those pots that doesn’t mind being neglected for weeks on end.” 

Many of the plants were indeed shriveled and brown, long dead from the looks of them. 

“I play piano occasionally. More often I’ll play the lyre or harp. I paint some. I tinker. Carve wood. I have a little cuckoo clock I’ve been piddling around with for years in there—“ he cut himself off at the astonished look on Holly’s face. “Sorry, I’m babbling.” 

“Bernard! That's amazing! Dude, is there anything you can’t do?”

“I’m not great with large engines and machinery, I suppose, but if push comes to shove—“

“Jeez, you’re incredible!”

Sparkling cheeks dusted pink at her praise. “I’ve had a lot of time to learn new things, that’s all.”

“Well, I certainly haven’t learned any of that! I played a recorder for like a month when I was 6 and that’s it. This is seriously impressive!”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and put a guiding hand on her back. “How about we continue that tour?”

“Whatever you say, Einstein.”

“Shut it, Holly Jolly.”

He lead her over to the opposite archway in the foyer that opened into a large kitchen and dining area. 

“Woah, this is nice,” she exclaimed. 

The wooden floors were polished and stained in various shades. The counters were spacious and tidy, vegetables placed in baskets along them. Like with the den, there were potted plants crowded around every window. Hanging above the counter were dried herbs of all kinds along with brass pots and pans for cooking. A long dining room table was situated by the front window, several ornate chairs set up on one side. 

She circled the room, taking in the little details of his kitchen. Judging from the fresh ingredients and well preserved utensils, he must use this room a lot. 

She stopped when she noticed a brass object in the center of the dining table. “Hey, I’ve seen this kind of thing before.”

“It’s a menorah.”

“Are you Jewish?”

“I am.”

“Oh, wow! Huh, but isn’t Hanukkah passed already?” 

“It’s not that kind of menorah. See, it only has seven branches? The one for Hanukkah has nine. I have my hanukkiah upstairs.”

“Oh, I see,” she listened intently, looking appreciatively at the decorated brass candelabra and its blue candles. “Hey, but wait! Isn’t shrimp not kosher? I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere.”

He chuckled at her confused expression. “I'm ethnically Jewish. Not practicing. It’s my roots, my culture, but I'm not religious by any means.” 

“Ahh, gotcha,” she hummed. “Yeah, me neither. My family was pretty religious, but I never really got into it myself.”

Holly circled the room and noted the lack of certain appliances. No toaster, no microwave. There was an old ice box that looked to be in decent working order. Bernard struck her as someone who didn’t eat many prepackaged snacks. 

Hm. His loss. 

“So that leaves upstairs, right?”

“There’s just bedrooms up there, nothing too interesting.”

She was, in fact, interested in seeing his bedroom, but she wouldn’t push it. 

“Bedrooms? As in plural?”

“Three upstairs. There’s a cot in my office as well, but I’ve never used it.”

“Man, this place is huge!” she breathed. “You live here by yourself?”

He grimaced, shoulders hunched. 

“Yeah, just me. It’s a lot, I know. I kind of inherited the place, but the original owners had a family here.”

“Huh, nice of them to leave it to you.”

“Yeah, uh,” he walked over to the icebox, pulling a basket of vegetables down from the top of it, “so about dinner. I was thinking stir-fry? Nothing too fancy.”  

“Sounds good to me! Can I help?”

A mischievous spark lit his eye and his head swayed side to side in mock apprehension. “Ehh… I don’t know about that one.”

“What! How come? I can help!” 

“I mean, I’ve tasted your hot chocolate, so-“

“Those are packets! I can’t do anything about those,” she huffed, arms crossing as she caught onto his teasing. 

He gave her an exaggerated look of doubt. “Well… I don’t know…”

“Rude! You are so rude! You’re the most rudey rude person ever—I shared those with you out of the goodness of my heart!” She scoffed, a note of mirth coloring her voice. “I can’t believe this!”

“Hey, look, we all have different talents.”

“Lemme do it, ya jerk. Move over!” She pushed him aside as he was setting up the vegetables on the chopping block. She grabbed a bell pepper and began slicing it. 

The sound of a throat clearing came from behind her and she stopped, shooting him a grumpy look over her shoulder. He didn’t say anything, though, so she went back to chopping. Next she grabbed a carrot and began slicing it up into pieces. 

He sighed. 

“Okay, what! What is it! What am I doing wrong?” She cried, placing the carrot and knife down and whirling around to face him. He looked like he was barely holding in his laughter, face twisted with an amused smirk. 

“You chop like you’re battling an army. It’s a carrot!”

“I’m doing great, thank you very much. Who asked you, anyways?”

“You did! Literally two seconds ago.” He was full on laughing at her now. “Here, let me show you how to do it.”

He stepped up to her, taking her shoulders and turning them so she faced the chopping block once more. “Grab the knife and carrot.” She followed his instruction, grumbling under her breath. “Hush, you. Now take the point of the knife and put it on the block, then bring down the blade on the carrot. See? Doesn’t that go through much smoother?” 

It was going through much smoother, actually, but she was loathed to admit it. 

“No, no, that’s too fast. Get the rhythm down first. Here.” 

He put his hands over hers, pressing his chest up against her back and showed her how to chop the carrot. 

“Feel that?” 

She couldn’t speak. She certainly was feeling something . 

“Careful you don’t catch your fingers, though. You curl them in like this so they’re protected as the blade gets closer.” His breath wafted over her cheek. Mm, peppermint. “That’s good. You’re so good.” 

Oh god, she wasn’t good, actually. No, no. She was so very bad . He was doing this on purpose , wasn’t he? Asshole. 

“Let’s grab another and try it faster this time, okay?” 

Her ragged breaths were certainly audible, they had to be. Did he just not notice? With a start, she realized that his own deep breaths were echoing hers. She let him guide her hands through the motions, the chopping lesson the furthest possible thing from their minds at that point. She pressed her back more snuggly against his front and he pressed his hips into her backside in response. She felt his throat bob against her ear as he swallowed and she took a shaky breath. 

He released her hands and she realized everything on the block was already perfectly chopped. She watched dumbly as he grabbed a pan and poured some olive oil in it, lighting the stove and bringing the chopped vegetables closer. He started to bring down herbs and spices, setting them up beside the stove for easy access. She snapped out of her stupor when he grabbed the oregano, the knife a blur as his steady hands expertly bunched and chopped the herbs into a fine dice. 

“Hey, I still wanna help!”

“Come help, then. I’ll tell you when the vegetables can go in,” he said without looking up. 

They worked together well, Bernard giving instructions to add this spice or that herb or to stir the vegetables occasionally. He took every opportunity to grab her hands and show her the ‘proper’ way to do it, though. Too bad she just wasn’t quite retaining anything. Neither one of them seemed to mind the remedial lessons, though. 

So he kept showing her exactly how to do it—over and over. 

--

Bernard set up a wooden fold out table in front of the fireplace for them to set their drinks. Holly suggested that since this was just a casual dinner, there was no need to set up at the grand dining table in the kitchen; so here they were, sat together on Bernard’s comfortably plush maroon couch in front of a crackling fire. 

Their legs were touching, Bernard’s knees pointed towards her and Holly’s pulled up and over his thighs comfortably, their plates balanced in their hands. It had become a familiar way to sit for them over the past few days. Snuggled close and comfortable. Usually their outerwear provided much more cushioning, however. Holly’s heart fluttered at the feel of only two thin layers separating them now. 

The food was delicious, fresh. Stir fry was always a good meal. 

Her eyes kept getting drawn to the pictures over his mantle. Some were painted portraits of various figures. Maybe ancestors? None of them bore a particular resemblance to Bernard, except one that looked like a child version of the man beside her. The curls piled on the little head in the portrait were absolutely adorable. She desperately wished she could pat those cute rosy cheeks. What gave her pause however, were the inexplicably pointed ears that stuck out on the sides of the child’s head. 

An elf? 

In fact, as she looked, she noticed every one of the figures in the pictures and paintings had pointed ears. 

Some of the pictures had a person who looked like Bernard in them—never alone though. There were just a few recurring faces in the pictures besides the look alike. A great many of the photographs were in black and white, which threw her for a loop. The person in those pictures must be a relative of Bernard since they were practically twins. But something about that seemed not quite right. 

The black and white figure in the pictures was dressed so incredibly similar to how Bernard himself dressed, even down to the green beret, except the version in the pictures wore it correctly. And there on the side of the figure’s head was a pointed ear sticking out of the dark curls. Her breathing stuttered for a moment as she struggled to process this. 

There were a couple pictures that seemed somewhat recent. 

But wait, no, not actually that recent. 

They were in color at least, but they still looked old, like maybe they had been taken a couple decades ago. The doppelgänger in those pictures looked exactly the same as the one in the black and white pictures. 

Exactly the same as the man sitting beside her. 

And every single one of the maybe-Bernards had pointed ears. 

She turned to consider the man beside her. He was still working on his plate; he was a much slower eater than she was, always savoring each bite. As he chewed, he watched her, obviously having noticed her perusal of his mantle. He had a strange look in his eye, though. Expectant. Like he was waiting for her to do something. 

Her thoughts had been hazy for weeks now any time a moment like this happened. At first she had just brushed it off. The unique atmosphere of the arctic could sometimes cause lightheadedness. And many of the things she thought were weird about Bernard could be easily explained. Not that he ever did try explaining them—usually he would redirect or outright ignore her questions. But she was good at filling in the gaps with the most logical explanation. Maybe if it had just been one or two instances like this, she wouldn’t have started wondering at all. 

But she had started wondering. And no matter how much she tried to think of reasonable explanations for the things he said and did, some parts just didn’t add up. 

She wanted to say something, ask him point blank maybe. The words just wouldn’t come, however. 

Her mouth fell open and his face filled with anticipation.

But she stayed silent. 

Her head was starting to clear the more she was confronted with this—whatever it was, but she still wasn’t sure what the question was exactly that she wanted to ask. 

Why was he like this? Was there something he wasn’t telling her? Was this all just in her head? 

Was he a fucking elf?

Just then a flash of light pierced the night and broke the moment, both of them exhaling in disappointment—or maybe relief?

Bernard stood quickly and approached the window, peering outside. She joined him and together they watched as a spotlight shined directly towards them, flashing once before turning off completely. 

“That’ll be Judy. She’ll have sent everyone home and completely turned off the floodlights,” he faced her then, “so we can get in without being seen.” 

“Great. Sounds good.” 

Holly didn’t sound very enthused, though. Balled fists clenched into her pants, and her body curled away from him. Her mouth pulled down into a frown. 

Bernard ached to smooth it away. He reached up to do just that, and she flinched back, suddenly looking scared. 

His face crumpled at her reaction. 

“It’s okay, Holly. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I-I know that. I do. I just,” she was breathing shakily, her eyes pleaded with him. She didn’t know how to verbalize her question, but she wished he would answer it anyways. He always seemed to know what she was feeling, what she was thinking. He was always two steps ahead of her. Why couldn’t he do it now? 

But he just kept quiet, waiting for her to sort her thoughts out. His hand was still hanging in the air between them and he slowly started to move it towards her face again. She let him this time and he gently cupped her cheek. She sighed and closed her eyes, melting into his touch as some of the tension left her. 

Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed up at him, looking lost and exhausted. 

“We need to talk, Bernard.”

His breath hitched. 

“Okay, let’s talk.”

“No, I mean... Judy’s waiting for us, right? I need,” she paused, her brows pulled tight, “I need some time to think. We came here to have fun, so let’s just focus on that for now. But tonight, after everything... Let’s talk. Okay?”

He nodded solemnly and dropped his hand from her cheek. 

“Tonight then.”