#dog can do whatever it wants in the fenced in part of the back yard

[stripe-conlon]

9) what makes you think your neighbor without dogs wants to deal with your dog shitting in their yard?

Everyone else talked about outdoor cats, it's time for me to talk about offleash dogs

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 24

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: As the group starts to make a new home of the prison, someone sabotages their plans, leading to unfortunate losses. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; canon character death; killing walkers; ethical discussions; murder

Chapter 24 - Where Else

“Okay, let’s get the other car in. We’ll park ‘em at the West entry of the yard.” Rick instructed as they drove the vehicles in from the road. Iris backed the truck up on the side of the gate, careful not to drive over any walker’s they’d left on the ground.

“Good. Our vehicles out there look like a giant ‘vacancy’ sign.” Daryl remarked.

“After that, we need to load up these corpses so we can burn ‘em.” 

“Gonna be a long day.” T-Dog grumbled.

“Where’s Glenn and Maggie? We could use some help.” Carol stated. Iris walked over, rolling her neck. Those prison mattresses were terrible. She’d rather sleep on the ground.

“Up in the guard tower.” Daryl replied.

“Guard tower?” Rick asked, putting his hands on his hips. “They were just up there last night.”

“Glenn! Maggie!” Daryl yelled across the field. Iris could see their silhouettes as the two of them stood up, and Glenn shouldered the door to the balcony open, shirtless, still buttoning up his pants.

“Hey, what’s up, guys?” He called back. Iris whistled loudly, earning a hearty laugh from Rick and T-Dog.

“You coming?” Daryl asked impatiently.

“What?” Glenn asked. The rest of them burst out laughing, grinning to themselves. Carol had to cover her mouth as she smiled.

“You coming?” Daryl asked again, smirking. “C’mon, we could use a hand.”

“Yeah, we’ll be right down.” Glenn replied. Iris shook her head, turning around as they walked back to the gate.

“Hey, Rick.” T-Dog called, stopping them in their tracks. Smiles faded as they turned, seeing Axel and Oscar walking across the courtyard toward the field. Rick started storming toward them, Daryl and Iris following quickly.

“That’s close enough.” Rick hissed as they stopped about six feet away. “We had an agreement.”

“Please, mister. We know that.” Axel replied quietly. Glenn and Maggie came out from the guard tower behind them. “We made a deal. But you gotta understand… we can’t live in that place another minute, you follow me? All the bodies— people we knew. Blood, brains everywhere. There’s ghosts.”

“Why don’t you move the bodies out?” Daryl asked.

“You should be burning them.” T-Dog stated.

“We tried. We did.”

“The fence is down on the far side of the prison.” Oscar explained. “Every time we drag a body out, those things just line up. We’ve been just dropping a body and running back inside.”

“Look, we had nothing to do with Tomas and Andrew. Nothing. You trying to prove a point, you proved it, bro.” Axel assured. “We’ll do whatever it takes to be part of your group, just please, please… don’t make us live in that place.”

“Our deal is not negotiable.” Rick said sternly. Iris pursed her lips. “You either live in your cell block or you leave.”

“I told you this was a waste of time.” Oscar muttered. “They ain’t no different than the pricks who shot up our boys. You know how many friends corpses we had to drag out this week? Just threw ‘em out, like. These were good guys. Good guys who had our backs against the really bad dudes in the joint, like Tomas and Andrew. Now we’ve all made mistakes to get in here, chief. And I’m not gonna pretend to be a saint, but believe me. We’ve paid our due— enough that we would rather hit that road than go back into that shit-hole.”

Rick turned to get one glance from Daryl, who shook his head. They decided to lock Axel and Oscar up in between the front gates. Axel muttered small complaints, but they were safe at least. T-Dog argued for them to join in.

“Are you serious? You want them living in a cell next to you?” Rick asked. “They’ll just be waiting for a chance to grab our weapons. You wanna go back to sleeping with one eye open?”

“I never stopped.” T-Dog replied. “Bring them into the fold. If we send them off packing, we might as well execute them ourselves.”

“I don’t know. Axel seems a little unstable.” Glenn pointed out.

“More-so than the rest of us? He already said, he was in for drugs, which we don’t have, and Oscar broke in to some place. They’re not killers.” Iris argued.

“After all we’ve been through?” Carol asked. “We fought so hard for all of this, what if they decide to take it?”

“It’s two against eleven.” Iris replied. “And I still cuddle my knives like teddy bears.”

“It’s just been us for so long.” Maggie murmured. “They’re strangers, I don’t— It feels weird all of a sudden to have these other people around.”

“You brought us in.” T-Dog pointed out.

“Yeah, but you turned up with a shot boy in your arms. Didn’t give us a choice.” Maggie replied.

“They can’t even kill walkers.” Glenn replied.

“They did. Sort of.” Iris chuckled.

“They’re convicts, bottom line.” Carol frowned.

“Those two might actually have less blood on their hands than we do.” T-Dog countered.

“I get guys like this. Hell, I grew up with them.” Daryl said. “They’re degenerates, but they ain’t psychos. I could have been in there with them just as easy as I’m out here with you guys.”

“So you’re with me?” T-Dog asked.

“Hell, no. Let them take their chances out on the road, just like we did.”

“What I’m saying, Daryl—“

“When I was a rookie, I arrested this kid.” Rick started. Iris bit down on her tongue, looking out at the forest. “Nineteen years old, wanted for stabbing his girlfriend. The kid blubbered like a baby during the interrogation, during the trial— suckered the jury. He was acquitted due to insufficient evidence and then two weeks later, shot another girl. We’ve been through too much. Our deal with them stands.”

Rick and Daryl turned back to go speak with Axel and Oscar. T-Dog looked frustrated, but he was definitely outvoted. Plus, Rick had a point. They didn’t know them. Axel was a coward, but sometimes cowards did the most damage in situations like the ones they found themselves in all the time. Iris had often considered herself lucky she never wound up in prison as a youth. A few overnighters in a holding cell, but never anything crazy. But she knew people like the boy Rick described. And unfortunately, he was right. They’d lost so much already, the stakes were high.

-

They spent the rest of the afternoon piling the bodies up all together. They were sweaty and tired, but it was done.

“Move the cars to the upper yard. Point ‘em facing out. They’ll be out of the way but ready to go if we ever need to bail.” Rick explained, tossing the gate keys to Glenn. “We’ll give the prisoners a week’s worth of supplies for the road.”

“They might not last a week.” T-Dog replied spitefully.

“It’s their choice.” Rick replied.

“Did they really have one?”

Iris left them to talk it out as she followed Daryl to the gates. Maggie got into the SUV while Daryl got onto his bike, ready to pull up to the courtyard.

“Twin cylinder, is that a Triumph?” Axel asked Daryl, observing the bike.

“Don’t even look at it.” Daryl grumbled.

“Didn’t want it bored out?” Axel asked. Daryl ignored him, starting the bike. “Sounds like it could use a tune up. I’m pretty handy with a wrench. Heads are leaking. I know my bikes!” Iris chuckled as Daryl pulled away, leaving Axel to himself.

“Man, will you just stop? Have some balls.” Oscar scoffed.

“Just sayin’.” Axel muttered as Glenn closed the gate behind them.

-

A few hours later, Iris passed Axel a box of supplies as Daryl, Rick and Glenn went through the fence to scope out the hole Oscar had mentioned.

“I’ll cut you loose as soon as they get back.” Iris said quietly, clicking the lock shut.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Axel replied. Iris cringed.

“Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old.” She replied. Axel chuckled lightly. “Sit tight.” She sat down on the gravel in the dog run, watching the hole in the fence as the others climbed through, weaving the wire back through the links.

“So what’d you do before this?” Axel asked. Oscar muttered for him to keep his mouth shut.

“I was a mechanic. Mostly bikes, cars.” She replied quietly. “Hence the matching outfits.” Axel nodded. “You?”

“Gambling man.” He said, putting the box down. “Never had much in the way of a career. Though Oscar here was an electrical engineer.”

“Yeah, well…” Oscar grumbled.

“You think you could maybe put in a good word for us with your man? I know we—“

“We tried. If you can prove yourselves, maybe he’ll let you stay.” Iris murmured, frowning as she watched them walk the perimeter.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Oscar asked. Iris didn’t answer, instead turning back toward the prison. She smiled as she spotted Hershel taking a stroll with Beth, Lori and Carl in the courtyard. 

“Alright, Hershel!” Glenn called. Iris’ smile fell when she spotted the walkers come out of the courtyard behind them.

“Walkers!” She yelled, scrambling to her feet. Rick, Glenn and Daryl were running to the hole in the fence. Iris scrambled to unlock the gate in the dog run, sprinting past Axel and Oscar toward the other gate.

“Walkers, look out!” Carl called. Lori, Carl, Maggie and T-Dog started shooting, but that didn’t stop the swarm from growing. Hershel hobbled out of the way on his crutches, but he was slow. Beth screeched in fear from beside them as they moved around away from them. Iris threw the gate open, sprinting across the field and unsheathing her knives. She didn’t bother opening the gate to the yard, climbing over the fence and hopping down. She pulled her gun and started firing, bore walkers coming as fast as they shot them down.

“That gate is open!” T-Dog yelled, gesturing to further inside the courtyard where they had locked off all the walkers before. Iris grimaced. Maggie herded Lori and Carl inside, Carol and Iris backing up T-Dog as he ran for the gate. He shoved a few out of the way, pulling it shut.

“T!” Iris yelled, running over, but it was too late, and the walker was too close. He screamed as it’s teeth sunk into his shoulder, ripping out flesh with reckless abandon. Iris put a bullet in it’s brain as Carol screamed.

“Here!” She called, shoving open a door on the other side of the catwalk. She pulled T-Dog inside and slammed the door behind them. Iris was somewhat surrounded and she grimaced, making a break for the chain link cage Beth and Hershel had locked themselves in. They watched as she climbed the fence, perching on top of it while the walkers pooled around them. She unloaded her clip but there were still more.

Daryl, Rick and Glenn finally made it to the courtyard, pulling the gate open and unloading their own guns into the walkers surrounding them. Glenn used his machete to cut through to the gate while Daryl unleashed his crossbow on the walker’s surrounding Iris, Beth and Hershel.

“What the hell happened?” Rick yelled.

“The gate was open!” Iris replied, jumping down from the roof of the doorway after they’d removed the walkers surrounding her. “Lori, Carl and Maggie went through to the cell block. T-Dog and Carol went through there, but T got bit!”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“Stay put!” Rick yelled to Beth and Hershel while they continued clearing the courtyard.

“You alright?” Daryl asked. Iris nodded. She was fine, albeit shaky and nervous. 

“Those chains didn’t break on their own.” Glenn said after slicing the top of a walker’s head off. “Someone took an axe or cutters to ‘em.” Rick turned around, staring daggers through Axel and Oscar, who stood warily at the edge of the gate. “You think they did it?”

“Who else?” Rick growled. Iris nearly jumped out of her skin as a loud alarm blared out across the compound.

“What’s that?” Glenn asked, alarmed.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” Daryl yelled, exasperated. The noise was drawing walkers in from everywhere, and they started to gather along the outer fences. 

“Kill it!” Rick yelled. They pulled out their guns, aiming for the loudspeakers. He wheeled around, pointing his gun in Oscar’s face. “How the hell can this be happening?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it has to be the backup generators.” He insisted, putting his hands up.

“How do you turn those on?”

“There’s three that’s connected to a diesel tank, okay?” Oscar explained frantically. “Each one controls a certain part of the prison. The hacks shut them all off when the prison was overrun.”

“Can someone open the main gates electronically, with full power?” Rick asked.

“I only worked in there a few days. I guess it might be possible.” Oscar shrugged.

“Okay, come with us!” Rick yelled, grabbing him by the shirt and hauling him along. They burst through into the cell block, but there was no one there. A few walkers, but that was it. “Lori! Carl!”

“Maggie must have taken them further in.” Iris said, out of breath as she kicked her mattress that had been knocked askew.

“We just took down five of them in there.” Daryl called, running in from the other room.

“Four in here, but no sign of anyone.” Iris replied.

“They must have been pushed back into the prison.” Glenn breathed. 

“Somebody is playing games!” Rick yelled in frustration. “We’ll split up and look for the others. Whoever gets to the generator first, shut them down!” They split up, Iris following Daryl, Rick and Oscar as they jogged through the corridors.

Oscar led them to the generators and they burst through the door, narrowly escaping a few hungry, snapping jaws. 

“Daryl, get the door!” Rick yelled. Daryl and Oscar threw themselves against the door, holding it shut as the walkers pointed against it. Rick ran for the generator. “How do you shut these down?!”

“Go, I got it.” Iris traded places with Oscar, and though he was much larger than her, some help was better than none. She and Daryl pressed themselves against the door, boots skidding against the ground. Iris heard her heard pounding in her ears before the scream. Andrew yelled as he popped out from the corner, slamming his baseball bat into the electrical panel, aiming for Rick. They wrestled, Rick attempting to disarm him as they slammed into various panels. Daryl let out a cry of effort as they strained against the door. Iris slid to the ground, scrambling up against it with a grunt.

“We gotta let go.” He grunted. Iris nodded and they moved in tandem away from the door, grabbing their weapons. They killed the first few that were slamming against the door before Daryl shoved it closed once again. Oscar tossed one of the metal panels at Andrew, shoving him off of Rick before picking up Rick’s gun.

“Shoot him! We can take back this prison!” Andrew pleaded as they both stood on shaky legs. Rick held out his hand. Oscar panted. “What are you waiting for? It’s our house! Shoot him!” Oscar pulled the trigger, and Andrew’s body hit the ground. He handed the gun back to Rick and Iris keeled over, hands on her thighs as she panted. Rick shut the generator down, the alarms stopping, finally. 

They made their way down the hallways, searching for the others. There was a scuffle somewhere down, but when they rounded the corner, they found Glenn and Axel. They all moved together down the hallways, finding two walkers standing over a body. Rick shot them both, but Iris held a hand to her mouth in shock.

“T…” She whispered. He was flayed open, barely a corpse as his innards littered the ground. They all paused for a moment and Daryl belt down to lift Carol’s scarf from the floor. She was nowhere to be seen, but they had no idea. They followed the halls all the way through to the door T-Dog and Carol had escaped through, Hershel and Beth waiting on the stairs.

“Hershel!” Glenn called.

“You didn’t find them?” He asked.

“We thought maybe they came back out here.” They both shook their heads.

“What about T? Carol?” 

“They didn’t make it.” Daryl replied.

“That doesn’t mean the others didn’t. We’re going back.” Rick said lowly. “Daryl and Glenn, you come with—“ Rick stopped as the sound of an infant crying carried over the courtyard. They all turned to see Maggie stumble down the stairs, a small bundle of Carl’s coat in her blood-soaked arms. Carl followed blankly, his face dark and his eyes empty. His own hands were covered in blood and Iris held in a gasp.

Rick dropped his axe as he faced Maggie, shaking his head. She was crying, clutching the baby close. Rick shook his head again, his lip quivering. He blinked, staggering back and forth as he walked closer.

“Where— where is she? Where is she?” He asked. When Maggie didn’t answer, he made for the door.

“No, Rick no!” She cried, pulling him back. Rick sobbed, clutching his hands to his face as he stared up at the prison. Carl stood next to him, motionless.

“Oh, no. No!” Rick cried. Glenn walker over, pulling Maggie to his chest as she cried, resting her head on his shoulder. Iris sheathed her knives, running a hand through her hair as tears lined her eyes. 

-

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

Not done a life update in a bit. Sorry man. I doubt anyone actually reads this nonsense but eh.

First & foremost, ya girl obtained a button maker & is making buttons of FUCKING EVERYTHING. I love it. Other WIP include hand painting doodles on my headboard with micro brushes & craft paint. It's a good thing to do when bedridden. I beat BOTW & TOTK, then beat both of the first 2 Southpark Games, & bought a bundle of 50 Sega Genesis games that I mess around with when I get tired of puzzling over Shadows Over Loathing.

Yesterday I dismembered a swing set that was sketchy in its structural integrity & am using scrap to make a cat tree that the cats can use to come & go from my bathroom window. (Don't worry, I'm not a moron. We made it so they can't get out of our yard the same way we did for the chickens.) I replaced our sliding glass door because it was gonna Final Destination someone & statistically I was most at risk. So I ripped it all out & replaced it will new framing, french doors, drywall, siding, and a dog door.

The Man is still running for mayor. We will see how that shakes out. He has low key given me license to decorate/renovate however I see fit because I have good taste, talent, skill, and as he put it "the one who is legit trapped here the most & thus should have it decorated to enrich your enclosure, babygirl". That man is absurd... but not wrong.

Beyond that, there's not much. The Spawn is in her first apartment with a girlfriend from work, so I get calls about storage solutions, plants, and asking to raid my fridge. Oh and the one call in which 3 girls in the background were gushing because the gist of the call was "Mom everyone wants a fruit hammock like you made for me".

The 3 Bonus Kids are OK. The eldest starts h.s. next semester & is trying out for football & has really turned things around for the most part. The middle starts m.s. next year & is behaving like a middle school girl, but is also very sweet. The youngest is still on her "oh I'm just a little baby who can't use her words & wants her dada" bullshit despite her mother's second child approaching a year of existence. I basically just pretend I don't understand or hear her until she uses actual words & I don't do tantrums. You wanna scream because you didn't get your way? Cool, but you're gonna do it in your room. The older 2 have realized that I will absolutely pay them CASH if they do chores, so I made an alacart style list of chores, the definition of said chore, and the payment for it if done correctly and they know that I will happily supervise & help them learn. I think it helps that I have really framed it as chores and stuff are meant to give them the independence of having money while teaching them necessary skills for adulting (cleaning, cooking, budgeting). Plus, you are a member of the household community & thus should contribute in whatever way you can. Example: the youngest is 6, but helps me change laundry over (saving my back), puts her laundry away, likes to clean mirrors or magic eraser the walls.

Oh yeah and I'm at a point where the unrelenting agony & exhaustion have made me enraged, as happens when spring hits after a long winter sometimes. Hence the murder of the swing set & my upcoming relocation & repair of the chicken fence.

[thatpunnyperson]

Sorry to add to an already long post, but many animals need to be taught that predators are predators, before seeing them as danger. My examples are the interactions between my two indoor cats and the local squirrels.

Story and context under the cut because it's long

For some context right off the bat:

I live in a "gated community" neighborhood in southern california, where each house has a backyard behind the house and two side yards on either side, all fenced in for privacy or something

The fences between the houses are solid wood or vinyl, but the fences around the backyards are normal metal with thin vertical bars a few inches apart. Squirrels and bunnies and small animals can fit through the bars or under parts of the solid fences, but animals like deer or dogs cannot.

My cats are strictly 100% indoor cats, and only one of them has been outside and it was because he body-slammed the screen in a window so hard getting excited about a bird that the screen popped out and he fell into our fenced-in side yard.

I have had bird feeders in our back and side yard for the past 5 years, and we've had an apple tree in the side yard since we moved in 25ish years ago, so squirrels and birds and rats all frequent our yards.

I realized this year that the new litters of baby squirrels genuinely do not see my cats are predators. My cats will sit at our glass back door, watching the animals in the back yard intently, and the baby squirrels will literally walk right up to the glass to look in at the cats. It doesnt help that my cats are grey-brown with fluffy tails, and look like particularly large squirrels with pointed ears instead of rounded ones.

[Image ID: Two fluffy grey-brown cats sit in the forging next to two bags of dry cat food. The cats sit pressed up against a large glass window that forms the non-sliding half of a sliding glass door. On the opposite side of the glass is a very small squirrel stepping out from underneath a dark, weathered wooden chair. The squirrel is several feet back from the glass, and the cats are very compressed, practically spherical in their attempt to get as close to the squirrel as possible with the glass separating them. End ID]

For the past 5 years, I've been able to watch the squirrels--both adult AND baby--go from considering my cats predators to considering them weird squirrel-like creatures trapped behind glass windows. The squirrels of all ages habitually come up to the windows to smack the glass and climb the screens when they want me to refill the bird feeders, and I've made sure that I fill the feeders with seed blends that are healthy for both birds and squirrels, while not refilling them too often as to make the wildlife dependent on me as a food source.

What boggles my mind is the tiny baby squirrels, freshly able to leave the burrow or nest, barely big enough to no longer need nursing by their mom, and how these babies will deliberately walk up to my back door when my cats are there, pressed up against the glass watching, and place their little paws on the glass so they can stretch up to look my cats in their faces. 4 years ago, the baby squirrels essentially clung to their parents' sides when venturing out for seed, because 5 years ago, when is started putting out the feeders, there were no baby squirrels in my yard at all. And now they clearly see and know my cats are there on the other side of the glass, and they are curious and investigative, and clearly do not see my cats as the predators they are.

And my cats have an insanely high prey drive, so they are literally never going outside, even on a leash, because they for sure would break out of whatever harness I'd use. So these baby squirrels will never learn that my cats are actually predators to be feared. And I'm not sure whether that's good or bad, to be honest.

Around tumblr lately I’ve seen people with the opinion that not only are free roaming cats bad (correct) but also supervised cats in catios or on leashes (????). I assume it must stem from that “ecology of fear” post from a few months ago, but to me the sudden appearance of these kinds of posts just strikes me as odd. I’ve seen multiple posts like the below one in just this week.

—

—

If your cat is contained to your yard/catio/the sidewalk, then it still allows for predator-free safe places in your neighbourhood for wildlife, and creates predictability for them too. That’s one of the reasons why hiking trails ask people to stay on the trail— so you (and your dog, horse, cat, etc) can safely enjoy nature while still giving it space. It is possible to exist outdoors in natural spaces like that while maintaining wildlife comfort. If it wasn’t possible to do that, dog-friendly or (even just hiking trails in general, since humans are predators too) simply wouldn’t exist.

The problem with free roaming cats is that they break boundaries between human area (ie. trail, back porch) and wildlife area (foliage, etc) and there is nowhere the wildlife can go to exist that is safe from predators.

Idk, this is just my opinion but I just think there can be more nuance to the outdoor/free roaming cat issue than “never let your cat step outside under any circumstance”.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

People have always been afraid of Eddie on a very superficial level. He got good at talking his way out of situations, out of fights that he no doubt would have lost. But talking only takes you so far. At one point or another, someone's not going to care about whatever it is that he has to say, and they're gonna start swinging.

That's where the scary dog privileges come in.

He hasn't dealt with Jason Carver or any of the other asshole jocks in months. Turns out, not even the Hawkins Boy's Basketball Team wants to test their luck against Billy Hargrove.

Billy, with his mean, obnoxious car and bad attitude, has warded bullies away from Eddie like garlic to vampires.

And all Eddie has to do is... hang around the guy.

It's not so bad. They're neighbors in the trailer park, so anytime one of them doesn't wanna skulk around the house, they bum around the other's place. Sometimes they lie down in the jungle gym in the center of the park and smoke some of Eddie's better supply until it's dark out.

Eddie was surprised at first when he started being invited to parties. Not just any parties, the good ones. The ones that had better alcohol and less people. The ones that required an actual invitation.

Sure, he was always Billy's plus one, but still. He was hanging around the "it" crowd and it was strange, to say the least.

To be privy to the hot gossip that stayed in the upper circles of the high school hierarchy.

Not that he really gave a shit about that.

He was in it for the free booze and the shenanigans — the times that Tommy H. would dare Steve to hop his neighbor's fence and steal garden gnomes out of their yard, or when Billy would fall out of a tree that he drunkenly climbed because he was laughing too hard. The fun stuff.

Eddie eventually started realizing that he really enjoyed Billy's company. Like, really enjoyed it. He'd get excited when he'd hear a tap on his window in the dead of night, knowing that he was being beckoned out for a night of fun.

Sometimes it just stayed the two of them. Eddie would buy a six pack and they'd go somewhere private — maybe park out by the quarry and sit in the back of his van while they listened to metal and talked and drank. And then... well, it took a while to get the blond to open up, but he started to speak of things outside of Tommy Hagan's parties and babes from California.

He talked of his mom. Of his little sister, who Eddie had seen him get into screaming matches with fairly often, and how much he tried to be a better person for her. For them both.

It was unspeakably soft.

Eddie, at some point, lost touch with the part of himself that feared Billy. How could he not? He looks at the guy and all he can think about is how softly he speaks when he's comfortable. How easy and laidback he is during the late hours of the night when he fights sleep just to keep the conversation going.

So, yeah, now Eddie gets met with weird looks in the hallways at school when he invades Billy's personal space. Jumps on his back and shoves him around playfully, even ropes an arm around his neck when they walk and talk together.

Completely openly unafraid.

Tommy tried to test the waters one afternoon during lunch. Reached an arm around Billy’s shoulders and patted his chest while he was making some point that didn't matter, and Billy twisted his wrist. Made him whimper and pull away with a confused look on his face.

And, god, was Eddie absolutely thrilled when he found out that he was the only person allowed that close. The only person who could do it without being snapped at.

It eventually stopped being enigmatic and became more of an expectation. If you saw Billy out and about, Eddie wasn't far behind.

"Hey, sorry I’m late," Eddie says.

He slings his arms around Billy's neck from behind. Presses up against him and tilts their heads together.

"Hey." Billy takes a drag from the cigarette perched between his fingers. "Where've you been? People have been asking me where my boyfriend is."

Eddie snickers at that.

"Sorry. Got held up helping Wayne around the house."

"'S okay. You haven't missed much."

He glances around the basement, spies Steve and Tommy bent over the billiard table with intense focus in their eyes, and Chrissy chatting with Heather and a few other ladies in the corner. It's practically all cheerleaders and jocks milling around. More like a work function and less like a high school party.

Eddie prefers the smaller hangouts with just the main group, but he's not complaining. Free beer and free food are some of his favorite things. Even if he’s not getting to help Steve and Tommy steal Principal Higgins’ car or something right now.

"God, Munson, not even here for five minutes and you're already spooning up to Hargrove," Jason says and earns a few laughs. "Why don't you just get it over with and rent a room out at the Motel 6?"

Billy tenses up, but doesn't move away. So Eddie does all he can think to do.

Makes a scene.

He smirks and slides his hands down to Billy's waist to grab at his hips. Hooks his chin over his shoulder and grinds against him, humming delightedly when Jason's face turns white.

"Jealous, Carver? If you want us gone so bad, you could go ahead and pay for our room," he lilts. Turns inwards towards Billy's neck and noses fondly at his skin. "Hell, you could probably join us. Whatcha say, baby, you wanna have a little fun with the basketball captain?”

He coos the last part into Billy's ear sensually. Smooths one of his hands up the expanse of his abdomen, fingers spread, and grinds against his back again.

Everyone's looking. Jason has gone from ghost white to burning red, and Eddie's not sure if he's flustered or if he's angry.

The best part of it all is that Billy doesn't pull away.

"No offense, but I'd rather fuck a tree stump," Billy says.

His tone is flat. Unamused. Like he's above this whole conversation entirely. Eddie juts his bottom lip out in a pout.

"Sorry, Jason. Baby says no."

The room erupts in chuckles, and Jason clears his throat. Turns his attention back to his drink.

Billy takes another puff from his cigarette, tilting his head back against Eddie's shoulder as the smoke fills his lungs. Still unfazed by Eddie's closeness.

"You want a drink, baby?" Billy teases.

He turns to Eddie. Exhales the smoke like fire into his face. The brunet just grins.

"We getting drunk tonight?"

"Mhm."

"Cool."

Part 2 is here

[whateyescantsee]

Starbursts and Second Chances

Part One

Summary: Running to a possible haven.

Notes: Implied violence, knife throwing

Don’t Breathe, Don’t Breath 2 are behind him.

“We’re getting out. We can and we will.” You whispered to your friend.

Tears were streaming down her face. “I don’t know, I’m so afraid.”

“We gotta be brave.” Hesitantly you reached out and squeezed her hand.

Outside the room the floorboards creaked. You couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Hearing the metallic creak of the door knob you laid flat and tried to remain as still as possible.

The door clanged open, “Which of these bitches should we enjoy first?”

“I don’t know.”

Their voices made you ill. “How about the feisty one?”

“Nah, I want to work on her. I want to break her. Grab the other one.”

You tried not to flinch when they grabbed your friend. Her screams ripped through you.

When the door slammed shut you finally let yourself breath. You had to do something. Your hands were still bound together, but those idiots had not tied your feet.

Turning, you managed to finally sit up. Turning, rolling your wrists and tugging the best you could finally freed them from whatever rope they had used to bind them together.

Damn, if all of this didn’t make your head lurch. Bile raced its way up your throat but you managed to swallow it down..

Crouching and bracing yourself the best you could, you looked through the key hole. None of them were in sight.

Slowly turning the knob. You barely opened the door, you had to make sure that the hallway was clear.

You crept slowly down the hall. You stopped when hearing your friend’s screams and the jeers of the men. The door was ajar. Holding your breath you had to glance in. They all appeared to be in there. You didn’t remember seeing any more then four. And they were all in there.

Tears, instantly streamed down your face as you pressed your hands against your mouth. When your friend managed to drag her head up, from what you could see from the curtain of her hair, she didn’t look like she would last much longer. Oh god, your friend, your best friend was going to die by their hands. You had to do something.

There was nothing for you to grab. You’d have to hope for a fast death. But, but that meant they could get others and keep on doing this. You had to get out of there. You’d come back and kill all of them.

You crept down the stairs.

“I’m going to take a leak. Keep her alive a little longer.” You heard one of them say. Looking back you saw his face.

Why the hell did you look back, damn it.

“Hey guys. The other little mouse is free!”

You began to run down the stairs. How your legs carried you, you honestly did not know.

Seeing the front door, you ran to it. You made quick work of then locks and stumbling you ran out but tripped down the stairs. He saw you and the others were behind him. You struggled but managed to get up.

You ran then. He was closer then you wished and stopped the others. They looked like hungry dogs kept at bay.

“I have an idea. Let’s make this fun.”

He reached into his into a sheath of some kind on his belt. Your eyes grew and ran harder even when your lungs began to hurt. It did’t compare to the pain that blossomed in your arms.

“Damn missed!” He snapped his fingers.

“Let’s get her.”

“Run little girl, we’ll get you.”

You managed to glance back and saw him getting ready to throw another throwing knife.

You dodged into a yard. Seeing a fence, you practically fell against it, before you somehow managed to climb up it. All these houses looked like husks of their former selves.

That’s when you saw an old man on his porch.

If you made it to him, you’d be safe. That’s when pain slammed into you and you crumbled to the ground. A scream was pulled from your depths.

Hoots and hollers came from behind you. “Let her bleed out some, we’ll drive around and grab her.”

Looking at the source of your pain, one of those throwing knives stuck out of your thigh.

You had to get up. You did but then screaming you collapsed back onto the hard ground. You clawed your way up when you felt strong hands helped you to your feet.

Blinking, you looked up into a scared worn face. “Why are you screaming?” A voice asked. It sounded as if pieces of sand paper had scraped against each other. It was the old man you had seen on the porch.

“These manics ran my friend and I off the road and brought us here.” You cried. “You got to help me.”

“I don’t want any trouble.”

You looked up into his eyes or what was left of them. His eyes were milky, no not exactly that. They were actually silvery like a star burst in them and took away the color. They looked towards you but not at you.

“They already killed my friend and they are going to kill me next. And they are coming.” You grabbed his gray flannel shirt. “You have to help me, please.”

A guttural sound came from him. “Alright. Follow me. Just for tonight, so they don’t find you. But then I want you gone.”

“Sure, sure. I promise but please let’s hurry. I don’t want them killing you too.”

He made another sound, before sighing. “Hold my arm and follow me.”

“Alright.”

You don’t know how he managed but in no time at all you were up onto his porch, and into the warmth of his house. Backing away you gave him room so he could take care of the locks.

“Thank…thank you.” You managed as you watched him.

A darkness, a fuzzy warmth began to fill you. “I..I…umm.” The blackness dragged you and the world fell away.

@crazytxgradstudent @bdffkierenwalker @dogmatic255 @blackvalkyrie99 @underratedcharactersimagines @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 17 - Bad Habit [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Everyone needs help sometimes.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t that there weren’t any spies who didn’t lie to their superiors.

There just weren’t any spies who lied to their superiors and lived to tell the tale, especially on high stakes missions like these.

You tried to convince yourself that the General would never find out, but that wasn’t the only reason why you were freaking out. Putting false information on your report was bad, yes, but the worst part was that you were beginning to find it harder and harder to report whatever information you found out about your fake boyfriend.

For some reason, you had a feeling it wouldn’t just stop at one lie.

Your eyes opened as you snapped out of your sleep all of a sudden and you took a look at the window, but it was still dark outside. That wasn’t the problem, the problem was that you had gone to sleep with Bucky by your side but now you were in an empty bed.

“Bucky?” you whispered into the darkness and sat up in the bed. After kicking off the covers, you made your way to the living room but as soon as you got there, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“Hey,” you whispered, “Are you okay? Are the bandages too tight?”

He pressed a hand over his side to check the bandage, then shook his head.

“No, no…” he said, “Did I wake you up?”

“Nope,” you said, “Is the bed too uncomfortable?”

“The opposite.”

You tilted your head “The bed is too…comfortable?”

He let out a small bitter chuckle and ran a hand over his face as you stepped into the room, then sat down on the floor as well.

“I’m not really used to…” he waved a hand to motion around you, “It’s not familiar to be comfortable.”

Ah.

Of course. You should’ve seen it coming, he was a soldier and coming back home was always so hard for soldiers, especially in Bucky’s situation.

You had so many nightmares after bad missions, you had no idea how you would sleep if you had anything close to what he had been through.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked and he shook his head again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I was hoping this wouldn’t happen.”

“Don’t be,” you murmured, “Do you want to be alone?”

“No,” he paused for a moment, “Please stay.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you pushed your hair behind you ear, taking a look at the pillow and the throw on the couch, then grabbed them and put them on the floor.

“Y/N, you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

You rushed to the bedroom to grab your pillows and the blanket off the bed, then went back to the living room.

“What are you doing?”

“It’ll be fun,” you said, putting the pillows and blanket on the floor. “Like we’re outside, only not with…annoying bugs.”

“You’re not serious.”

You plopped down the floor and gave him a bright smile. “I am!”

“Darling….” He started but shook his head with a sigh as you lay on your side, pulling the blanket over your shoulders.

“I’m very stubborn, you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to change my mind,” you informed him and he shot you a small smile, then lay down as well. You entwined your fingers with his, then looked up at the ceiling.

“My virtue is so screwed,” you pointed out, making him huff out a laughter.

“Oh absolutely.”

“I mean, there goes my hopes of…” you trailed off, “White picket fence house and puffy skirts and homemade pies.”

“What, you don’t want them with me?” he asked and your heart skipped a beat, then you stole a look at him.

“Can you even imagine that?”

“Yes I can.”

“I think I picture a movie,” you said, “There’s this….big yard, and white picket fences and we painted the house white but the door is red.  And there’s a dog and— feel free to stop me anytime, Bucky.”

“Don’t,” he smiled as if picturing what you were describing made him happy, “Just keep going.”

“We have a rescue dog,” you said, “We got him from a shelter and named him… um, we named him something funny.”

“Is it a big dog?”

“Yeah and you take him on a run every night. Mornings with me, nights with you.”

“That’s a good schedule.”

“He likes me better.”

“Ouch,” his smile widened, “I don’t blame him.”

You hummed, “And you have a mustache I think.”

He shot you a look, “If you say a Clark Gable mustache…”

“I’m just putting it out there—”

“Nope. Not gonna happen.”

“Fine,” you let out a laugh, “And we have an apple tree in the garden. Wait no— we have an apple tree and a peach tree.”

“How big is the garden?”

“Not so big,” you said, “Like in those movies.”

He paused for a moment and you stole a look at him.

“You wanted a big garden?”

“Well,” he said, “We need a big garden for the treehouse.”

“We have a treehouse?”

“Depends,” he said slowly, as if he was intimidated, “Kids love treehouses.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of having kids with him, for the hundredth time the image of a happier future where you weren’t a spy flashing in front of your eyes. You tried to stop the smile pulling at your lips.

“Yeah,” you said, “I think our kids would love them too.”

You could see the ghost of a smile on his face as he rubbed his thumb over your hand.

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” you yawned, “And in summer we would put a bouncy house thing in the garden and we would put a hammock between the peach tree and the apple tree and we would relax there while the kids are wreaking havoc in the bouncy house.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, sleep luring you as you closed your eyes, taking in his scent, “Sounds like a good plan.”

                                                           ***

You really didn’t have time to second guess yourself today. Yes you had lied to the General and spent the whole night with Bucky imagining an impossible future but now, you had to keep your head in the game.

You would figure out what you would do. Eventually.

This was a mission. You had to start acting like it.

“I don’t think I like this one,” you called out from the dressing room and in a second, the door opened to reveal Chloe who raised her brows.

“Wow.”

You tilted your head and stepped outside to look at yourself better. The gold body chain wrapped around the lingerie gleamed under the shop’s bright lights and you fixed the suspenders, clicking your tongue.

“Nah. I don’t think so.”

“Wow,” she said again, “I hate you so much, why do you look so hot in lingerie?”

“Chloe, every woman looks hot in lingerie,” you said as you walked back to the dressing room to try the next lingerie set. It was a red lace bodysuit and after a moment of struggle, you got into it, and opened the door again.

“Not this one either.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to sleep with him!” Chloe squealed, “Are you excited?”

You cleared your throat, “It’s just a mission.”

“Yeah but you want to sleep with him?”

“The dude is hot.”

“Y/N.”

“What?” you fixed your hair and frowned at your reflection, “Nope. I don’t like this. It’s too….meh.”

“I doubt Barnes would say meh if he saw you in this,” she said, “He’d probably pass out. You look like you’re about to grab your whip or something. Oh— Y/N, you should like tie him up or something! If we’re not going full on vintage, show him the modern fun times!”

You shot her a look, “Something tells me he doesn’t like to be tied up Chloe.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, because HYDRA scumbags tied him up a lot and he still has nightmares about it?”

“Ah,” she said, “I forgot about that. Hey, maybe he could tie you up!”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I said to Julian when he suggested I called him sir in bed,” you stated, “No thank you, I don’t do that sub thing.”

���Now I kind of wish we specified your cover’s kinks,” she heaved a sigh, “It’d make things so much easier.”

“My cover likes to be in control.”

“No, real you likes to be in control,” she corrected you, “Nothing about your cover says control.”

“Chloe—“ you started but stopped talking when the shop assistant approached you.

“Do you find it to your liking?”

“Um, not exactly,” you said, “I mean I like the color but overall—“

“Do you have bridal sets?” Chloe cut you off and your eyes widened.

“Easy there.”

“Like maybe soft pastel tones…. The whole thing though, garter belt and stockings and everything.”

“Of course!” she said, “We have some new arrivals, let me bring them here.”

“Chloe!” you whispered as the shop assistant walked away, “What the fuck?”

“Think about the dresses we picked for your cover,” she said, “Soft pastels. It makes sense that your cover would pick those shades in lingerie too.”

“Bridal? Really?”

“I mean, Barnes will want to propose you right there when he sees you in them so…” she grinned at you while you narrowed your eyes at her, “Come on! I’m very curious about how he is in bed.”

You tilted your head, “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” you asked, “Because love triangles are so early 2000s.”

“Hilarious,” she deadpanned, “And no. My type is more—relaxed. Less serious.”

You scoffed and leaned back on the wall, crossing your arms, “You could just say Keith.”

She shifted her weight, biting on her lip. “I mean…” she trailed off, “He still doesn’t make a move though.”

“Why don’t you make a move?”

“I could never!” she gasped, “Nope. Ever. Besides, I thought you were against me dating spies.”

“I am,” you admitted, “But it’s your love life. If you want to date a guy who has an extremely dangerous job and worry about whether or not he will come back to you alive….”

“You’re very romantic, Y/N,” she said as the assistant came closer, holding the set. Even you had to admit, it looked very sexy and beautiful at the same time, with soft pastel lace adorning the fabric, and you took a look at the basque, then walked inside.

“Besides, you’re the one to talk.” Chloe called out as you got into the lingerie, then ran your fingers over the garter belt.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your boyfriend does dangerous stuff too.”

“Fake boyfriend,” you corrected her, fixing the basque, and as soon as your reflection caught your eye, you raised your brows.

“Okay, maybe you had a point,” you admitted and opened the door, and Chloe grinned at you.

“See,” she said, “This is what I was talking about.”

You smirked at her and leaned on your hip, still looking in the mirror.

“Fine, I like this one.”

“Told you,” she sang and you crossed your arms.

“What dangerous stuff has he been doing lately?”

“He was texting with Wilson about some HYDRA person,” Chloe said, “Apparently they want to go after him. Tonight.”

“What HYDRA person?”

“No clue. And we can’t send a team because then it’ll be obvious— Y/N, I know that look,” she shook her head fervently, “No.”

You tried to look as innocent as possible, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You want to go after the same HYDRA person as them, but you have specific orders and we still haven’t got the okay from the top of the chain of command to go after that scum.”

“Chloe.”

“No. I’m not going to give you the address.”

“Well if Barnes ends up dead, I won’t have a mission will I?”

“He’s going to be fine, he fights better than you.”

You gasped, “How dare you?”

“He fights better than everyone in the division!” she insisted, “He can take care of himself.”

You pouted, “Fine,” you said, “I guess I won’t give Keith the idea of taking you out on a date then.”

She paused for a moment, “That’s bribery.”

“Uh huh.”

“You have no shame, do you?”

You motioned at the lingerie set you were in, “Does it look like it?”

She rubbed at her eye and let out a small whine.

“If my dad asks—“

“He’s not going to know.”

“Do you promise to behave?”

“I always behave,” you stated, making her snort.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Please?” you asked, “I promise I’ll be safe. I’ll just make sure he’s alive, that’s it. I won’t get involved in anything.”

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Chloe pursed her lips. “For your information, I think picnics are romantic.”

“Dully noted,” you said, “Trust me, he will take you on a picnic. So, do we have a deal?”

She rolled her eyes, then nodded, making you let out a laugh and walk back to the changing room.

“I want candles on that picnic too!”

“Send me the list of your demands,” you called out, “I’ll make sure they’re all covered.”

                                                      ***

In all honesty, Chloe was terrible at saying no to people, especially the people she loved.

You fixed your ski mask as you took a look at the text Bucky had sent you after you asked him what he was doing;

Nothing much, going home soon. You?  

“Liar liar….” You sang as you typed your reply.

Soup Kitchen was so tiring, I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.

Fine. Maybe he wasn’t the only liar in this relationship.

You took a look at the building’s window through your binoculars, then lowered them to check your phone when it vibrated.

Good idea. Sweet dreams darling.

You tried to ignore the smile on your lips but as soon as you heard gunshots coming from the building, your head shot up.

“Shit,” you murmured and tried to see what was happening, but it was impossible. Whoever they were, they were definitely staying away from windows.

“Not gonna get involved,” you muttered, “Not gonna get involved, it’s stupid and puts the mission in danger. I’ll stay right here, he can take care of himself.”

For about five seconds, it worked.

“I’m being stupid,” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed the gear around your waist, then checked whether it would actually carry you, “I’m being so fucking stupid, I haven’t even slept with the dude yet….”

You went over to the edge of the rooftop, then took a deep breath, grabbed the cables and jumped to crash through the window of the building the gunshots were coming from. You pulled your gun to shoot the person who looked like he was about to shoot Bucky, sending him to the ground and Bucky pushed the guy he was fighting with through the wall, then turned around to point the gun at you but as soon as he did, he frowned.

“….Shrike?”

“Hi handsome.” You unbuckled the rope from the harness, sending it up to the rooftop again as he lowered his gun. “Need a hand?”

Chapter 18

[storiesofsvu]

Pumpkins

Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: language, tiniest mention of smut. Covers the “pumpkin patch” square for fall bingo, and the “fall/autumn/winter” square for @adarafaelbarba ’s bingo!

(there will be a part 2/follow up!)

· You and Casey had gotten together shortly before Christmas almost a year ago. While you’d had more than enough time to explore Holiday traditions, they were all the December ones. You’d strolled through Central, wished for more snow, bought your first tree together, wrapped presents, gone ice skating, watched the ball drop and had the time of your lives.

· Problem was, Christmas was not either of your faved holidays.

· Casey had a soft spot for either summer, when sports were in full swing, or Autumn, where it was finally cool enough to actually indulge in outdoor sports and activities.

· You however were sold on Autumn, Halloween, and the like, you absolutely adored everything about it. You were ecstatic when Casey’s face leapt into a very excited expression at your question of celebrating the season.

· You both planned all of the events.

· You arranged horror movie nights every Friday, theme-ing them to certain trilogies or fandoms each week so your friends could join in whenever they wanted.

· Melinda was a fan of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Alex loved more of the paranormal stuff, Rita came by more for the company and free booze, but she also had a secret soft spot for the Scream/slasher movies. Liz loved coming by to hang out, teasing the two of you over your obsession, and she was the one who watched the Halloween moves every year, but was very particular over which ones were “canon” and which weren’t.

· It didn’t take long for you to do some research and find a pumpkin patch that was right outside of town.

· You pouted to Casey and it only took less than five minutes and a few kisses for her to agree to take you out there that weekend

· You were ecstatic when the two of you piled into the car, squealing at the sight of the pumpkins patch.

· Casey met your excitement as you stepped out of the car, multiple dogs quick to greet you once you were on the other side of the fence from the parking lot.

· You nearly had to drag her away from them, assuring her that you could get one once you’d moved into an actual house with a yard, but right now, you needed pumpkins.

· There were numerous shout outs from the both of you, all “IT’S THE GREAT PUMPKIN CHARLIE BROWN!!” And you were more than aware with the eyes on you, laughing to each other

· Casey naturally, had to prove to you that she was big and strong, that she could carry both the pumpkins back to the car. You couldn’t help but giggle softly as she struggled with opening the back of the car.

· You raced in to help her, laughing, tossing her a small smile as you helped her load the pumpkins in.

· Once the car was shut you turned to her with another soft puppy dog face, asking if you could maybe get some apple cider before you left.

· Casey simply melted, her hands cupping your cheeks as she smiled softly, kissing you gently,

· “Baby we can have whatever you want.” She kissed the top of your nose, “I already planned to pick you up some pumpkin lattes on the way home.”

· “You’re too good to me baby.” Your smiled, kissing her.

· “Nah, I just share your disgusting taste in coffee.” She teased back and you scoffed, swatting at her arm before she ducked to kiss you gently.

· “Let’s get some cider.” She murmured against your lips, “I love you.”

· “I love you more.” You murmured back, moving back to the cider booth, her hand linked in yours.

· As you sipped on cider and wandered the grounds, you started discussing what you were going to do with your pumpkins closer to Halloween, and decided to pick up a few more, some smaller mini ones, and some regular sized ones. Since you’d been celebrating the season with everyone else from the team already, you may as well make sure there were enough pumpkins to go around and you could host a little pre-Halloween party to carve them and drink spiked cider and decorate the apartment.

· The two of you ended up spending the majority of the day at the patch, exploring the farm and Casey of course playing with the dogs. You basically had to drag her away from them at the end of the day, promising her you could come back to visit next weekend, but right now, you had to get back to the city. It was only at the mention of the brand new lingerie set you’d picked up the day before that Casey finally darted to the car, eager to see what you had in store that evening.

______

@bisexualcrowley @natasha-danvers @laurenhope13 @imlike-so-gaydude @wannabe-fic-reader @gaylorrds @altsvu @disneyfan624 @svulife-rl @svushots @gay-ass-bitch @lesbianspacecowboy @whimsicallymad @mysticfalls01 @oliviaswifey @thatgaygiraffesquirrelgirl @swimmingstudentchaos891 @disaster-and-disgrace @nocreditinthestraightworld @beccabarba @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @enduringalexblake @molllss @wosoimagines @solemnnova @lawandorderimagines @infernumlilith @yourtaletotell @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @wandas-wife @emskisworld @lesbianologist @thestarrynightslover @newyorker14 @lawandorderuswnt @ex-uallyactive @mmmmokdok @wandasbrat @lustvolle-liebe @disn3y7 @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @season4scullyhair @narvaldetierra @dxtery @Awkwardreadera

[drabbles-mc]

Night Off

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Can I request something for my baby boi Angel? There is a fair/carnival in town so reader and Angel go to have some fun. Just some good, old fashioned fluff maybe even have Angel win her a big stuffy and a romantic kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel with a hint of what might happen once they get home

Warnings: language, Angel and the guys being cuties

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I only know what the county fairs are like in my home-town so that’s what I based this off of! I included the demolition derby because it has always been my fave part of the fair hands-down lol. Plus, the guys would totally be into doing something like that lmao

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

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Going to the fair had started off as a group event. Things had been quiet with the club and you suggested that they take advantage of the extra free time and do something fun. Who knew when things would be so quiet again? All of the guys had been quick to agree, and the fair being in town just made for a perfect opportunity to get out and unwind—to just be regular people instead of guys who ran drugs for a cartel. It was nice to see them all so happy and goofing around.

Throughout the evening, everyone sort of ended up separating. A few of the guys went off in their own little clusters to go and get food, or go find the rides. You had dragged Angel away to the petting zoo because you couldn’t remember the last time that you had been to one. He laughed as you crouched down and fed handful after handful of pellets to the goats that were crowding the fence in front of you.

“You look like a Disney princess,” he smiled and shook his head, “All these goats and animals following you around and shit.”

You laughed as you stood up, brushing your hands off on your jeans, “They only want me because they know I have snacks. Not quite a Disney princess yet.”

You leaned into him as the two of you continued to make your way through the fair grounds. It was nice to see everyone there having a good time. Kids were running around laughing, chasing each other with inflatable swords and mallets that they won from whatever carnival game they’d managed to win. You couldn’t help but to watch the controlled chaos unfold around you with a smile.

You turned to Angel and found that he was already looking at you, a soft smile on his face. You laughed as you nudged his side, “What?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. This is nice,” he was about to say something else when his phone went off. With a sigh he reached into his kutte to pull it out and answer it, “Yo, what’s up?” there was a pause and his eyes widened slightly, “Alright. Yea, I’ll ask her. Bye.”

You were looking expectantly up at him, “All good?”

“You know the demolition derby is tonight?”

You laughed, nodding, “Yea, last night of the fair usually,” you could see him practically vibrating with excitement, “You wanna go check it out?”

“Yes.”

You smiled as you gestured towards the arena where it was being held, “Well, let’s go!”

The derby used to be your favorite part of the fair as a child. You’d always wondered who came up with the idea of it in the first place, because it really was such a strange concept. Nonetheless, it was always fun to watch. And, as you sat down with Angel and a few of the guys in the bleachers, you knew that you weren’t the only one with that opinion.

Over the noise of the crowd, and of the cars racing around in front of you, you heard Angel talking to EZ and Coco, “We should do this shit next year! You know we got cars at the yard that we could use.”

“Yea, who’s gonna drive?” EZ asked with a chuckle, “You can’t afford anymore head injuries.”

Angel sucked his teeth, “Shut up. I’d be great.”

For the rest of the event you listened to the three of them strategize just how they would go about entering the derby next year. You wished that Bishop could have been with you so that he could hear the three of them scheming, because you knew that he would have some A+ commentary on the subject. You leaned against Angel’s side as you listened to them, shaking your head as all three of them went off on their tangents.

When the derby was over, and they had successfully plotted their plans for next year, you begged Angel to head back towards the carnival games. He had told you that the games were rigged, that it was no use. And part of you knew that he was right, but you still wanted to take a crack at a few.

“Go on,” Coco pushed Angel in your direction with a laugh, “You owe her a fuckin’ teddy bear or some shit. She just listened to that whole conversation and didn’t tell any of us to shut the fuck up.”

He threw his arm around your shoulder with a laugh, “Alright, alright. He’s right,” he pulled you close to him, “I’ll catch you guys later.”

“It better be one of the big teddy bears, Angel!” EZ called after him with a laugh.

For someone who was convinced that carnival games were impossible to win, Angel managed to win one. EZ had been the one who was always given praise for his baseball skills, but watching Angel pitch the ball at the milk bottle game made you rethink that stance entirely. He had a good arm, which wasn’t surprising in and of itself, but the fact that he had a good enough arm to beat a game that you weren’t supposed to be able to win was pretty impressive.

“Which one you want, querida?” Angel looked over at you when the man running the booth asked him what he wanted for his prize.

You beamed as you leaned against his side, “That one!” you pointed to the giant panda bear hanging off the top of the booth.

Angel nodded as he turned back to the man in front of him, “You hear her. One ridiculously oversized panda, please.”

You were hugging the panda to your chest, having to use both arms to do so. Angel couldn’t help but to keep looking over at you and laughing—the toy was almost the same size as you. He loved how content and excited you looked as the two of you continued to make your way around the fair. The bear was essentially the third person in your party as you carried it around. You sat it next to you when you stopped to grab some food, and you made Angel hold it when you decided to attempt a few of the carnival games yourself. The sight of him holding the bear was almost too much for you to handle, and you had to take a photo of it. He looked so tough in his kutte, with his serious facial expression, but the giant stuffed animal in his arms negated all of that.

“Alright,” he handed the stuffed animal back to you with a chuckle, “Anything else you wanna do before we go home?”

You looked at him with your best puppy-dog eyes, “Can we do the ferris wheel? Please?”

“That’s the ride you wanna go on?” he smiled.

“Why do you have to say it like that?” you laughed.

“I think it’s cute, quierda,” he leaned down and kissed you on the lips.

You made your way over to the ferris wheel, and Angel couldn’t contain his laughter as you situated your bear across from the two of you. You curled up against Angel’s side as you waited for it to start. He draped his arm around you as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. Both of you were quiet for a few minutes, just soaking up the whole night and everything that was happening around you.

‘Thank you for this, by the way,” Angel spoke up as the two of you began to make your way towards the top.

“Of course,” you reached and interlocked your fingers with his, “It’s been nice to see all you guys having such a good time.”

The ferris wheel came to a stop when you reached the highest point, and you felt a wave of excitement wash over you as you looked over the expanse of the fair. You’d spent all evening walking around it, but looking down on it from where you were, it made it seem so small.

“Hey,” Angel’s voice was soft but it still snapped you out of your thoughts.

You turned to him with a smile, “Yea?”

He reached and pulled you into a kiss. You smiled as you leaned into him, hands resting lightly on either side of his neck while his arms wrapped around your waist. A quiet moan slipped past his lips as you pulled him in closer to you.

You took your lips off of his, a smile on your face as you rested your foreheads against each other’s. He pressed a light kiss on the tip of your nose, “I love you.”

You hum quietly in approval, “I love you too.”

[villainousshakespeare]

Bobby’s Playdate Part 2

Part 1

The pandemic is keeping Tom idling in London by himself. One positive is that wearing the mask helps him avoid recognition, allowing him to wander in the park with his dog, Bobby. On one of their walks, Bobby becomes smitten with a dog named Lulu and Tom is equally enchanted by her human. Can the Hiddleston men manage to find a way to see the lovely ladies again?

Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Chapter 2 of4

Rated M - Pandemic, Fluff, Quarantine, Masks, Adorable Puppies, Meet Cute, Second Part May (will) Contain Smut

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere, from-hel-i-with-love, @sweetsigyn, @fictiondoesitbetter, @ms-cellanies @evieplease @viviennes-tears @turniptitaness @cynic-spirit @spooky1980 @ghostypau @viviennes-tears @lady-loki-ren

I am so sorry I took so long to update this! First I was distracted by a super busy week, and then I decided to rework what I had in store for it. It took a while to redo, but I have decided to make it a 4 part story. Hope you enjoy, and that the wait was worth it!

The day had started out like every other since the lock down began. Leia had slept late, having no where to go. A cold, wet kiss on her nose from Lulu woke her up when the pup could no longer wait to be let out and grumbling she had taken her out for a quick walk up and down the block. After two cups of coffee and some melon, Leia had realized that after three months of enforced solitude, both she and her dog had gotten decidedly surly. It was time to get out, even if it was only to the local park.

Lulu’s excitement when she took out the little pink and white checked dress had been enough to put a smile on Leia’s face. Really, the small dog was a ridiculous creature, but she could be such a bundle of sunshine. After they were both outfitted – Lulu in her dress and Leia in a comfy outfit and mask, they made their way to the nearby park, enjoying a leisurely stroll around the newly green paths. She wished that Lulu was not too timid to play in the dog run, but after spending a year in the shelter the poor thing was terrified of other dogs.

That was why she was so surprised when Lulu’s tale began to wag excitedly. Normally she would have been cowering and whimpering in fear at the sound of another dog approaching, but for once her reaction was completely different. She jumped up from where she had been snuggling on Leia’s lap and perked up her ears, tongue lolling out happily. When the chocolate spaniel came trotting around the bend, she even jumped of Leia and strained at the leash to meet him.

Keeping a tight hold on Lulu’s leash, Leia let her eyes travel up the lead attached to the strange dog. It was quite a long trip, as it happened, past a pair of long legs in torn jogging pants, a faded shirt that would once have been bright blue, and a plain black mask until she got to a set of smiling blue eyes that made her heart stop.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, “I promise he is completely friendly.”

She had known who he was instantly, of course. No face mask could disguise those cheek bones, the copper curls that brushed his collar, or the baby blues that had sent a million fan girls swooning. If she had had any doubts, one word from that sinful voice, a verbal caress of polite friendliness, would have stamped it out. She had seen almost all of his movies, after all, and quite a number of his promotional appearances as well.

“It’s okay, so is she,” she replied struggling to keep her voice normal and grateful for the mask that hid her stunned initial gape. “You know, she’s usually quite shy, but she seems to like him! May I pet him?”

And then Tom Hiddleston –  The Tom Hiddleston! – had sat down on the bench next to her while she petted Bobby and struck up a casual conversation! She had kept her eyes on the pups at first, afraid that if she looked at him, he would see the excitement and intimidation in her eyes. He introduced himself, needlessly, of course, and she gave him her name in a kind of daze. She realized that he had only provided his first name and had the quick flash of insight that he might be enjoying the idea of anonymity. If that were the case, she would not want to spoil it for him by gushing. Uncertain of what to do, she let the obvious joke about her name lead her to mentioning Marvel characters. That way, she decided, he would have a segue to talking about his career should he want to. When he let it slide and quickly changed the subject, she decided that her assumption must have been correct.

Which was absolutely fine with her! She was sitting and talking to Tom Hiddleston! While she would, of course, love to pick his brain about Loki, or Shakespeare, or any of a dozen projects, she was more than happy to listen to him discuss his dog in that proud pappa voice. By the time she had told him the story behind Lulu’s dress excitement she was reasonably settled and could actually manage to look him in the eye without blushing.

She had met a few famous people in her time as a London tour guide, and many of them had been a colossal let down. Tom was not one of them. He was everything she had ever imagined or hoped he would be. Kind, funny, clever, a little prone to talk on about any subject he happened on, but in all a delightful conversation partner. She was disappointed but not surprised when he had to leave, but she didn’t want to be too greedy; it was already one of the most magical afternoons of his life. When he mentioned running into them again, she almost squealed with excitement, just barely managing to keep her face impassive.

Thus began a fairy tale of month for Leia and Lulu. After two days of rain, during which she was certain he would forget all about her, they had found the boys again at the same spot. Leia half wondered if she were simply dreaming, but if so, she had no desire to wake up. They met up with Tom and Bobby most days, walking for hours sometimes as they discussed London, their childhoods, school. She learned quickly that he changed the subject instinctively whenever anything came up that might lead to his career. She could respect that. It must be hard, she thought, being always in the public eye. For her own part, Leia tacitly decided to keep the subject of her book a secret. After all, a fantasy story based on Norse Mythology, with Loki playing a leading role, was bound to bring up the sort of conversation he obviously wished to avoid.

As time went on, she began to forget he was a movie star and just think of him as her friend, insane as that struck her when she stopped to look at it. Oh, she was still absurdly attracted to him, but it was no longer for his stunning character portrayals or teasing banter with interviewers. No, the teasing banter she was interested in now was much more personal for her. He was delightful company, unfailingly polite, quick with a wickedly funny comment or a profound musing on life. In short, Leia was well and truly smitten. Hopelessly, she thought with a sigh.

When he invited her to his home, she could barely believe it. A casual acquaintance in the park was one thing, a dinner chez Hiddleston was completely different. She knew it was in large part for the sake of the puppies, and that was fine. Lulu was as besotted with Bobby as Leia was with Tom, only in this case it was obviously mutual. Leia would just have to be careful to guard her heart. She was not a part of his real life, and she needed to remember that, even if they never discussed it.

***

Bobby started barking seconds before the buzzer rang, his tail wagging back and forth at a frantic pace. Tom, scarcely less excited, gave a quick glance in the mirror before slipping on his mask and opening the door.

Leia stood on his doorstep looking even more lovely than usual. Her simple leggings and long tee had been replaced by a pretty, floral sundress in shades of red and yellow and her hair, usually tied up or back, was long and curling about her shoulders. Tom swallowed and tried to keep his eyes from doing too obvious an up and down of her body. It was difficult, considering the shape of her legs and amount of them showing. Lulu’s yip drew his eyes down to her, and he saw that she was dressed in a purple polka dotted number for the evening, her hair sporting several sparkly clips to keep her braids from coming undone.

“Hi, welcome!” he greeted them, straining to keep Bobby from leaping out the door. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thanks,” she smiled with her eyes as he ushered her inside.

“You found the place alright?”

“Your directions were perfect,” she assured him, glancing around at his newly bare entryway. “It’s quite the posh street you live on! I don’t think I’ve ever been into one of these houses.”

“Oh, it’s just like any other home,” he said modestly, feeling stupid as he did. His house had an electronic gate (that he had left unlocked for her) and a private surveillance system. He knew it was not the usual home. “I can give you a tour later if you like.”

“I’d love that. Whatever you have cooking smells delicious!”

“Thanks. I’ll have to check on it in a bit. For now, though, why don’t we go out back? I have some drinks chilling.”

He gestured for her to proceed him and subtly steered her past the kitchen and living room and out the sliding glass doors into the back. The yard was pretty, a nice square plot with flowers growing along the fence on three sides and one large tree giving shade. A table with four chairs and a grill stood on a little stone area, and Tom had set it up with a selection of glasses for beer, wine, and mixed drinks. A pitcher of iced water stood next to a bottle of dry rose in an ice bucket, and another small bucket contained iced beers.

“Here you go, Bobby,” he unleashed the spaniel who instantly tore off around the yard, looking for his favorite toy. “Why don’t you two have a nice frolic.”

“Oh Lulu, this will be fun!” Leia cooed to her pup, also removing her dog’s leash.

As the little dog scampered off after Bobby, Tom took a deep breath and turned to her owner. Now was the moment he had been waiting for.

“I suppose since we are alone and outside and all… as long as we stay six feet apart… would you mind?” he gestured towards his mask.

“Not at all. Oh, and I got my negative test results back. I have a copy on my phone if you want to see them!” she offered.

“No need, I trust you,” he was quick to assure her. “I got mine as well.”

It was strange – until a few months ago he would have felt tremendously awkward wearing a mask around another person. Even when he had needed to wear one for a few scenes in Only Lovers Left Alive it had seemed tremendously cumbersome and rather silly. Now though, Tom realized that he could not remember the last time he had been around another person without one. There was something shockingly intimate in the act of taking it off in front of Leia, and he found himself feeling almost shy. Blushing a bit, he unhooked the straps from around his ears and took the fabric from in front of his mouth, setting it on one of the chairs.

His eyes fastened on her as she reached up to do the same, the red mask peeling away to reveal a small bow of a mouth, pink lips curved in a slight smile. Her chin was slightly pointed and had a cute little half dimple to one side. Smile lines were just barely visible and added to the appeal of her face. It was a very kissable mouth, he decided.

“Hi,” he said, rather fatuously, face breaking into a sheepish grin. “I’m Tom.”

“Hi Tom,” she smiled back, and his heart skipped a beat. “I’m Leia.”

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, until he cleared his throat and pointed to a chair.

“Please, have a seat,” he managed to say. “As you see, I have wine, beer, water, or I could make you a cocktail if you’d rather. Or lemonade if you prefer a soft drink…” he realized he was babbling and cut himself off.

“Wine would be nice,” she said, sitting down and crossing one long leg over the other, giving him a lovely glimpse of her thigh.

“Right, wine it is,” he said, uncorking the bottle and grabbing a glass. “I hope it’s alright. My sister loves this brand, she brought it when she was here last, and it is better than anything I would have known to get.”

“Not a wine guy?” she asked, accepting the glass from him.

“Oh, I like a good hearty red with a steak now and then, and I will definitely have some with dinner tonight – I hope you like Italian, by the way – but for casual drinking, I’m more of a beer or scotch fan myself.”

While he prattled on Tom opened up one of the beers and poured it into a pint glass. When the foam had gone down a bit, he raised the glass and tilted it towards her.

“To deepening new friendships,” he dared to say, eyes finding hers.

They clinked their glasses, and he took a long sip of the hoppy beverage, hoping he hadn’t over stepped.

“To embracing human interaction!” she added. “Selectively, of course.”

Well, she obviously didn’t recognize him. That was a relief. He had been half worried that she would shriek, or become tongue tied, or worse. It was remarkable to him how many women seemed to have extreme reactions to meeting him. He was so ordinary! Just an overgrown ginger kid from Wimbledon. It wasn’t like they were meet Daniel Day Lewis for god’s sake. On the other hand, he couldn’t help feeling the tiniest twinge of disappointment. He worked hard at his job, after all, and was proud of the reputation he had developed and of the work he had done. It was strange, with how up on everything Leia always seemed, that she didn’t have any knowledge of Marvel at least, or The Night Manager. Still, some people didn’t watch a lot of movies and TV, or if they did it was more intellectual fare.

They both leaned back in their chairs and watched the dogs play chase back and forth. Tom found his eyes drifting back to her, staring at her mouth. He had never realized just how much a person’s mouth said about them. Leia’s smiled as a default, giving her a more youthful look than she had when it was covered. There was something fresh and approachable about her that he was drawn to.

The conversation was light and easy. Neither of them had been doing much of anything lately, so they resorted to telling older stories from their childhoods. Tom was amused to think of Leia playing with her friends, insisting that no, she wanted to be Han Solo despite what her thoughtless parents had named her. Tom, of course, had wanted to play all of the characters, and delighted her with his spot-on Darth Vadar and Grand Moff Tarkin impressions.

“You were a terror, weren’t you?” she laughed as he described bossing his sister about the correct way to make the light saber noises.

“A bit, yeah,” he admitted. “Emma and Sarah would probably say more than a bit. They had it coming though.”

“I’m sure they would agree with that, too,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s not my fault they couldn’t take direction,” he grinned. “I’m sure you would have made an excellent Han Solo. With the proper lessons.”

“Perhaps you can make me your student after dinner, if we have enough wine,” she suggested.

He knew she meant it innocently enough, but he felt a blush creep up his cheeks at the image her words planted in his mind. Leia in a schoolgirl outfit, bent over his desk flashing through his brain was enough to make him reach for his beer and gulp down more than was advisable. She seemed to realize after a moment, as she too reached for her glass and took a long swallow.

Lulu chose that moment to break away from where they had been digging around the tree and came running over to them, something grimy hanging from her mouth.

“What have you got there, peanut?” Leia sked, sounding a bit relieved.

“She seems to have unearthed one of Bobby’s treasures,” Tom smiled, glad of the distraction himself.

“Here, princess, you want me to throw it for you?”

Leia held out her hand and she happily dropped the toy into it. Tom looked at the toy and felt his jaw go slack and his eyes frantic. It was Loki. Of course it was. One of Bobby’s favorite toys, naturally, given to him during the lead up to one of the movies, the thick ropes of green and gold formed a long God of Mischief chew toy/tug of war combo, complete with horns. Tom licked his lips, glancing quickly at Leia, only to see that she was smiling down at her fluffy pup.

“Oh, Lulu, Look! It’s just like yours, only a bit more loved,” she said with a laugh. “Good girl, saving the handsome prince from a shallow grave. Loki never stays dead for long!”

With another laugh she took the toy and threw it across the yard, Lulu and Bobby both quickly scampering off after it. Tom gaped at her, uncertain what to say.

“You must have a lot of those,” she commented off handedly.

“You… you know?” he stammered.

“Know what?”

“Who I am?” it sounded stupid and conceited to his own ears.

“Well, I hope so since I’m in your home.”

“No, I mean you know what I do for a living,” he ground out, feeling like an utter ass.

“Of course,” she told him, quirking her lips.

“Since when?” he choked out.

“Since the first day. You’re not exactly easy to mistake, Tom.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t seem to want to talk about it. I figured it must get old, people falling all over themselves around you, treating you like you’re not even human.”

“Yeah. Yeah it does.”

“So I took my cue from you.”

“I see,” he was completely flummoxed. “And you have a Loki toy? For Lulu, I mean?”

“Of course, he’s our favorite! Poor, misunderstood boy. You know, I am glad I have the opportunity to tell you now how good you are. And not just as Loki. You were breath taking in Betrayal.”

“You saw Betrayal?”

“Twice. Stunning work.”

He knew his mouth was opening and closing stupidly, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. She had known, all this time. She had been humoring him by not talking about it. He was not entirely sure how to feel about that.

“Tom is everything alright?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“Was that why you talked to me?” he heard himself asking. “Why you agreed to come over? Because I am famous?”

“No,” she said slowly. “I came over because you asked, and because I like you. Yes, I was a bit star struck at first, but I got past it. Are you angry? I just assumed you realized.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I… I should go check on dinner.”

“Tom, really, are you okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Be right back.”

Turning tail, he fled into the house, mind in complete turmoil at the new turn of events.

[whumpinggrounds]

All Caught Up

woohoo here for day 1 of @whumptober2021 with some superhero/sidekick content :) as i’m sure you’ll figure out, this is for the barbed wire part of the prompt

tagging @whumpy-writings, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed :)

CW: barbed wire, (duh), blood, field medicine, cuts, pain, crying, sidekick whump, environmental whump (kinda??)

The mission is going well, as far as August can tell. He’s been relegated to recon, which is a nice way of saying that he’s spending the night running circles around the action. Beck, ever the diplomatic leader, makes sure to talk up the importance of it, emphasize how August is keeping them safe by watching everyone’s back. August, young and green though he might be, is smart enough to know that it’s a little less dramatic than all that. At least he’s contributing, August tells himself. Mercer, his fellow trainee, is back at the compound with the medic girl, Valerie. Perhaps it’s only because August’s power is more useful, but he’d like to pretend it’s a little deeper than that.

By his fifteenth lap around their perimeter, August has to call his wishful thinking what it is. He’s not any more capable than Mercer, and certainly he’s less useful than Valerie. He’s just convenient for the current mission, which, by the way, he doesn’t even get to know about. After just a few minutes of the task, he has to admit what he’s really doing, which is running pointless circles around a warehouse in the dark, keeping his eyes open for anyone suspicious.

“What kind of suspicious person should I be looking for?” August had asked, overloaded on adrenaline as Beck and Donovan briefed him on the mission. Beck had nodded at the question, but Donovan had looked nothing short of disgusted.

“We’ll be at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city in the middle of the night. Anyone shows up, they’re suspicious. Is that simple enough for you?”

After weeks of training with him, August was well used to Donovan’s digs, but hearing it in front of Beck made him flush like it was the first time. He ducked his head, cringing from the friendly pat Beck tried to land on his shoulder.

“Don’s just stressed,” Beck had explained with an apologetic smile. August had forced a smile. If that was true, Donovan’s spent the past several weeks stressed, every minute of every day.

The memory of the conversation cheers August, just a little. It reminds him that he’s out here, jogging easy laps around the warehouse, instead of inside, within range of Donovan’s caustic comments. At a steady, sustainable lope, August cuts through the clear, slightly cool night air like a knife. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, including a mask pulled down over his face that hides his spiky, strawberry blonde hair. When he first dressed out like this, August had been tempted to ask what would happen if someone thought he looked suspicious, skipping around dressed completely in black. Before he got the words out, though, he imagined Donovan’s withering response, and Beck’s awkward pity. August decided it was better just to keep his mouth shut. Now he focuses on watching the world around him, scanning alleyways and empty roads in widening circles. It’s easy, meditative, the most familiar motion August knows.

Around him, the night is thick and silent. His footsteps echo down quiet streets, only the sound of buzzing streetlights and distant sirens there to keep him company. Of all the sketchy parts of the city, August wouldn’t have picked the warehouse district for a criminal hotspot – most of these places are legitimate shipping contract, complete with a rent-a-cops posted outside their chain link fencing. This building is on the edge, though. August examines it on his closer loops, trying to glean from the outside what must be going on within. He has a lot to learn, and it’ll take him twice as long if Donovan and Beck won’t explain things to him outright.

They’ve been in the area almost an hour when a new noise makes August’s ears prick up. Something rattles in one of the side streets, a way that’s been empty the last three times August checked it. Tightening his circle, August trots toward the sound, not sure whether he should hope for a stray dog, or something a little more exciting.

As he draws closer, August tries to note the ways the alleyway might’ve changed, but he just hasn’t been paying enough attention in all this quiet. There’s a bottle, gleaming empty, in the center of the alley, which may not have been there before. Slowing to a walk, August scans both sides of the way carefully, making sure to check the window sconces above him. He gets to the street on the other side, ready to give up, when he sees him. Across the way, there’s a man watching him – dark clothes, shifty eyes. Their eyes lock, and August feels his heart rate pick up.

Before he can say anything or start to move, the other man is turning and running. Despite himself, a smile spreads across August’s face. Perfect.

Springing into action, August throws himself into the chase. After all the casual jogging, it feels so good to run – muscles firing at top speed, peak efficiency. The world blurs past his face as August’s legs pump beneath him, fine and strong. Fully confident in his abilities, August charges forward, fighting the urge to grin.

Up ahead, the stranger doesn’t look back. Presumably, he can hear August’s footsteps, catching up to him in leaps and bounds. The guy darts into a nearby building, dodging through dilapidated rooms, no doubt as a last-ditch attempt at evasion. Smirking, August tears after him.

The only thing that keeps the man out of August’s reach are the doorways and minor obstacles that block August’s path. He has to slow down to dodge, and the stranger pulls ahead again, fleeing out the back door a few precious yards before August. Growling, August hurls himself forward again, springing off the bottom steps of the house. He takes two massive strides and then –

And then August is on the ground, for seemingly no reason. Heart pumping hard, adrenaline surging through his veins, August tries to bounce back to his feet without even checking what might be wrong. That’s when the pain hits.

It’s stinging, at first, in his legs, and then a strange, metallic rattling sound. August lies still, brain still trying to catch up to what exactly is going on. Slowly, tentatively, he tries to separate one leg from the other, and then sucks in a breath as the tearing pain sharpens. Peering down, he whimpers as the source of his agony is revealed.

A bunch of old, rusty strands of barbed wire are wrapped around his legs. He must’ve run into them, almost full speed. If they were stapled to something before, his momentum must’ve carried him straight through, but it’s just as likely that the coils were just sitting there. Either way, the wire is now wrapped tight around his legs, digging in with every little motion he tries to use to escape.

Okay. Okay. August tries to keep his breathing level, but it’s hard. It’s getting shaky. Okay, he tells himself, just, just sit up-

But sitting up moves the wires, makes them tear at his skin in new and agonizing ways. Hissing through his teeth, August gives up for a second, lies panting on the ground like a landed fish. The weight on his legs makes the barbs dig in all the deeper. Whining, August pushes himself up on his elbows and, fighting pain, reaches back to try to pull the damn thing off. Every single motion makes the barbs dig deeper, rip and tear at August’s skin like they have teeth and independent, vicious will.

Despite his gritted teeth, his clenched fists, his desperate attempts to control himself, tears leak from August’s eyes. Angrily he swipes them away, panting through the waves of stinging pain, trying to think. He needs to…he needs to…he needs to get upright, so he can untangle himself.

The thought of standing, of all the maneuvering he’ll need to do, puts a sob in August’s throat. He just wants it to stop hurting. Adrenaline is draining from his system, leaving him with helpless, useless pain. August wants someone to come help him – but even if Donovan and Beck are out looking for him, he has no way of knowing when they’ll find him. Besides, he’s a full-on adult. He’s supposed to be a superhero. He’s supposed to help on this mission, not hinder. August needs to fix this himself.

Drawing in a long, unsteady breath, August steels himself, eyes closed. He can’t fix anything from his current position, facing the ground and unable to see just how bad the knotting is. Trying to stand is going to dig the barbs even deeper into his thighs and calves. Flipping over on his back will tangle him further in the loose strands of wire. There’s no good option, but he can’t just lie here on his face and let the barbs bury themselves in his skin, hoping someone finds him soon.

Gritting his teeth, August makes his move fast, giving himself no time to chicken out. Throwing his body to the side, he flips himself onto his back, dragging the strands of wire with him.

The pain is blinding. Either the wire is still attached to something, or its own weight resisted August’s move – whatever it is, the wire wrapped around his legs drags hard against August’s flesh. Caught off guard, August screams, a harsh, ragged sound that echoes loud into the night. He screams just once, and then bites down savagely on his cheek, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle his sobs. Below the waist, his pants grow wet with blood.

Fuck. Fuck. It hurts so bad his body shakes with his tears. It hurts. Inside his head, August is wailing, but on the outside, all he can do is lie on the ground shaking, pressing his fist so hard against his teeth that his knuckles split and bleed.

Fuck. Fuck. Just breathe. He has to breathe. He has to breathe, and then he has to get it together, and then he has to fix this.

After a few minutes of regaining his composure, August sits up gingerly. In the dim glow of flickering streetlights, he looks at the mess wound tight around his legs. Just seeing it makes his stomach drop. He has no tools with him, nothing that could be used to cut spiky steel wire. August will have to sit here and peel each piece away from his skin by hand, even as tugging at one strand pulls another strand tighter.

It's going to be agony. But August doesn’t have another choice. Already, his pants are damp, and it won’t be long before a puddle starts to form. He can’t just sit here and weep until his mentors come to save him.

With one shaking finger, August tries to trace the wire, to figure out where and how to start. Eventually, he abandons that idea – he’s held by at least two, maybe three separate pieces of wire, and they’re all twisted together, a chaotic tangle that engulfs his legs in too many different places. Locking his jaw together and vowing that he won’t scream, August sets out to free himself.

It feels like it takes forever. A few times, August wishes dizzily to pass out from blood loss, or pain, but though the barbs cut deep, he’s not losing a dangerous amount of blood. The pain, rather than knocking him out, seems determined to keep him inescapably, unbearably present, aware of every little agony that razor wire can cause. Every shift, every tug, every careful little motion sends searing pain reverberating through his body.

Driven to distraction by the pain, by gritting his teeth and reducing his screams to grunts, August casts around him, finally landing on an old cardboard box collapsing in on itself nearby. With greedy fingers he hauls it to himself, folds it into a packet as thick as a wallet, and stuffs it in his mouth. Cringing from the taste of earth and mold and damp, August draws in a difficult breath around the mouthful and then attempts a particularly hard yank.

Head falling back, August yowls into his makeshift gag, biting down so hard he chokes on his trapped tongue. Coughing, crying, keening into the cardboard like a wounded animal, August works an especially tight strand away from his calves, not letting himself stop, no matter how painful or loud the going is.

When the loop is finally loose, August lets his teeth creak apart. His jaw aches from the clenching, and his teeth have worn deep, blurred impressions in the old cardboard. His hands are trembling, stained with blood from his legs and from where he’s cut his palms heaving at the wire entrapping him. Swiping a bloody hand across his mouth, August tries to get his breath back, all the while moaning, letting out little repetitive whimpering cries, like an animal caught in a trap and begging for aid. Distantly, he’s surprised at himself – he’s never heard these little pleading whines before and wouldn’t have thought it was something he would do. He’d always thought of himself as a yeller, before, someone who outright bellowed their pain. Tonight, he’s timid and pathetic as a child.

By the time Beck and Donovan find him, August is working on the last round of wire, surrounded by the bloody remnants of his prior successes. He’s too exhausted and pain-sick to focus on anything but freeing himself, so he isn’t alerted to the presence of the other supers until he hears Beck’s murmur. “Oh, fuck.” The leader sounds horrified, sick. “Oh, fuck, August, what happened?”

Too weary to have dignity, August just opens his mouth and lets the cardboard fall out, hands dropping to his sides and away from the barbed wire still stuck in his legs. “Saw som’n watchin’ the warehouse.” It’s been so long since he tried to talk that August isn’t sure why he’s slurring – maybe exhaustion, maybe the pain. Maybe because he’s been biting down so hard on cardboard his jaw feels like it won’t work right ever again. “Trieda chase ‘em. Didn’ see…didn’ see the wire.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Don’ know. Feels like…a long time.”

August looks up at Beck with total, hopeless, bottomless despair. Swallowing hard, Beck drops to his knees beside August, hand slipping down to his toolbelt. In seconds, he has a pair of wire cutters out and ready, and August feels hysterical laughter well within him at the thought of how easy this all would’ve been if only Beck had been around.

From another street floats a familiar, four note whistle. Beck replies in kind through his teeth as he brings the clippers to rest against the wire. August grits his teeth, steeling himself for the snap, the sudden retraction of the coils. Hesitating, Beck peers at him. “This…this could hurt.”

“’ve peeled…plen’y of it off m’self,” August grits out. “Jus’…hurry.” He drags in a shaky breath and wills himself to be brave. “…please.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, August remembers the cardboard too late. Without it, he lets an agonized grunt escape his lips as the wire cutters sever the last loop. Even the minute relaxation of his newly released legs is enough to jerk cruelly on the barbs embedded in his thighs. Fresh tears spring to his eyes beneath his mask, and August wonders wretchedly if Beck can see them.

If Beck does see his youngest trainee crying, he’s good enough not to say anything about it. When August peeks through slitted eyes, he sees his leader bent over the wire, focusing hard, drawing each barb out carefully and trying not to jostle as he does.

It hurts only a little less than August’s work on himself, but it’s over blessedly quick. When Beck finally sits back on his heels, August is left panting and bloody, but finally free. For a long moment he just sits there, leaning back on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. Opening his eyes, he discovers that sometime in the last few minutes, Donovan arrived, and is now staring at him, green eyes unreadable under his mask.

“August was trying to chase down a possible spy and ran into some razor wire.” Beck’s voice is low, distracted. “Maybe night vision goggles next time? Or-”

“Or the trainee learns not to run into shit like fences, walls, and goddamned barbed wire.”

“Don-”

“Can’t teach common fucking sense, Beck.” Donovan snorts. “Or maybe you can, but you shouldn’t waste your time.”

Letting his head drop, August bites his lip hard to avoid dissolving into tears. He’s tried so hard to be brave. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a wavery, exhausted whisper. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a long silence from his two mentors. “Come on, Donovan.” Beck sounds tired. “He’s lost a fair amount of blood.”

Donovan just grunts, and crosses the courtyard, and scoops August up in an effortless bridal carry. He isn’t especially gentle, but he isn’t especially rough either, and he carries August, bloody and teary and exhausted, all the way home.

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part five: Click here, butters, elpacho, last meheecan.

Part six: You're here, dumb!

Part seven: Finally here!

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Peeta and I end up helping Haymitch to his compartment, the reek of vomit and alcohol wasn't exactly pleasant.  Since we couldn't set him down the bed, we ended up hauling him to the bathtub, setting the shower on him. 

Peeta gave me an odd look when I laughed awhile ago; there was no humour in the situation after all. Forming a good impression wasn't really on my agenda. "It's alright; I can take it from here," he said.

I nodded, "Okay," I nodded, putting my lips together. "Do you—need me to call those Capitol people?" I asked, stumbling over my words. My confidence seemed to have been drained at some point.

He shook his head "No, I don't want them," he responded. I nod for the last time and head to my own room, relieved that I don't have to wash putrid vomit off Haymitch's chest hair, or something. Though it would be the perfect "revenge" for the people working here, I get why he doesn't want to see them. 

I wonder, why does he want to help such a wreck? Was he simply kind like the time he gave me bread? Or was he using this to gain Haymitch's favour? A feeling of nervousness bubbled up within me, a kind Peeta Mellark was way more dangerous than an unkind one. Not everyone in the district can afford to be kind, so kind people make such a mark on me.

I looked at the packet of cookies at the table beside the fancy bed—a lump formed in my throat. Kindness would've been nice, but not in this situation. I sighed, taking my attention to the window instead. 

There stood a lonely yellow flower, a dandelion. It took me back to the schoolyard, all those years ago. My eyes had just left Peeta's bruised face when I saw that dandelion; hope rose within me that moment, I plucked it gently from the ground and hurried home. I grabbed a small, broken bucket and grabbed Nal's hand and headed to a meadow. It was filled with the same flowers.

It was the first moment where Nal smiled after our Father's death. He loved the way the flowers smelled and looked. However, he was quite upset because we had to eat them, with the rest of the bakery bread. My father loved his plants, maybe a bit too much. 

I remember countless hours we spent in the woods looking for a specific type of plant, whether for eating or for medicine. He had me memorize them by heart, which took a couple of years because I got distracted halfway through. 

The next day, we were off to school. I hung around the edge of the meadow after, contemplating whether I should jump the fence. My mother couldn't get a job, well, she didn't want to. She thought the whole District would shame her the moment she stepped out of our crumbling home. It made no sense to me; we had nothing to lose anymore.

Which is exactly why I went under the fence, retrieved the old, leather-bound daggers my father made from scraps and wood. It was pretty frail, but if you handle it carefully and throw it properly, it won't break—most of the time.

I didn't go beyond twenty yards that day; I didn't feel confident enough to go deeper, fearing I'd get lost in the forest. I took home a small rabbit that day, we hadn't had meat for months, so it honestly looked like a full course meal, like the one we were served in the tribute train.

My mother isn't the greatest cook, so she burnt a couple of bits, mainly the thighs. But it still filled us. The woods became my second home, escaping the sad atmosphere my mother gave off and the pressure the Peacekeepers would regularly make us feel. 

The hunting started slow, but each time I went under, I went deeper. I stole eggs from nests, jumped from tree to tree and managed to shoot a squirrel or two down. I struggled with the fish; my father would always throw his dagger to the fish with little to no effort. Whenever I'd throw mine, it would miss. It took me a couple of times to figure out the water distorts my vision.

The plants were no effort; I knew which one to pick, which ones were poisonous. The signs of danger used to terrify me back to the fence until I gathered enough courage to climb the tall trees, then I stuck with it, not liking the feeling of being chased. The wild dogs would always leave me alone after a while.

On July 15th, I finally signed up for the tesserae, carrying the first batch of grains and oils in the same broken bucket I used to gather those dandelions. I patched it up with some scrap bark. On the 15th of every month, I would put my name once again. I still had to hunt; grains weren't enough. We still needed soap, milk, thread and many more things we used to have. I began to trade in the hob, learning how to hold my tongue in the process. My father used to trade there as well; he used to do all the talking while I watched, stayed silent. 

And so I simply tossed the game I had to their tables. They caught on fairly quick; I'd only speak up when it came to bargaining or when I'd change what'd I'd buy. Or when I would insult wild dog soup. My father was a charismatic man, always able to persuade people to buy whatever. Not me, though, I was like a sore thumb. Painful, to talk to at least.

My mother wasn't very enthralled with the fact that I had been hunting, too much like my father, she said. That's when we argued, "Don't be stupid like your father!" she shouted. I remember my face contorting to anger, how my fists clenched as she continued to scream. 

I finally exploded, "Why don't you go out and get a job if you don't want me hunting, then? You'd rather we starve?!" I said, slamming the table. "I won't die, I won't end up like father! I won't be Capitol's pig, neither was he!" 

"But if you do die?" She argued back, tears flowing down her cheeks as she gripped both my shoulders. "I'm only thinking of you, Y/n!"

I scoffed, glaring at her, "If you're thinking of us so much, then why aren't you helping us?! If I don't die being accused of rebellion, then I'll die because of those stupid games because of you!"

"Don't blame me for this! It was your father's fault for being brash—" She reasoned, but I cut her off by pushing her off me. I stared at her as if she grew three heads. "They asked you," I whispered, "All you did was nod, you could've lied."

Her green eyes shook at my words, "Lie to the Peacekeepers? The Capitol? And get us killed as well?! I only what your father wanted," 

"They didn't have anything on father! It was your voice that gave it away! It's your fault that he's dead, now we're over here starving because you can't get over yourself—"

Then there was a sting on my cheek. She had slapped me. My eyes landed on a crying Kunal; guilt surged through me, so I ran. I ran to the woods and slept on top of a tree, humming a soft tune to the mockingjays next to me. They listened and sung back. I fell asleep to their lullaby, surprisingly, not falling off.

I found my hand on the same cheek my mother slapped that day. I was going to die the same way I said, how ironic. I won't be able to apologize or tell my mother I loved her anymore. A sigh left my lips as I continued to stare out the window. 

I clenched my fists, punching the wall as my breath hitched. I let out a groan, holding the stinging part of my hand. I glared at the wall, grumbling under my breath before I decided to fall asleep, not wanting to think of my regrets and what I could've done. As I closed my eyes, I only hoped my dreams would be pleasant. 

"Up! Up! Up! It's a big big day!"

Effie Trinket's voice awoke me from my dreamless slumber. I groaned, muttering profanities as she left my compartment. I tried to imagine what it was like in that stupid wig--- well--- head of hers, it made my head hurt.

I had fallen asleep in the green shirt, causing it to become wrinkled, the. Not that I cared, there will be some stylist stripping me anyways. I shuddered at the thought of Capitol people touching me, what a nightmare. My eyes landed on the packet of cookies on my bedside table. I decided to grab it.

I entered the dining compartment, still half-lidded and yawning. Effie Trinket brushes me with a cup of black coffee. She was muttering obscenities, probably because of Haymitch. Peeta held a roll, looking somewhat embarrassed  "Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch said.

Peeta flashed me a smile, amused by how dishevelled I look. To be fair, I wasn't a morning person, I find waking up to be a tiring task. I rubbed my eyes, the packet of cookies still in my hands as I slid down the chair.

They served an enormous platter of food. I'd hate to admit it, but I was starving. So for the first time, I decided to stab it with the fork, not sure what to do with the cookies so I pocketed them. I figured I'd eat them much. . . much later.

I chewed slowly, glare on my face as my eyes struggled to remain open. I didn't even notice the orange juice next to me because of it. Peeta nudged me, handing me a cup of brown, rich liquid. It was quite warm. "They call it hot chocolate," he said. "It's quite good,"

My green eyes moved from him to the cup, then back to him. As if asking for permission. I sniffed, muttering a "thank you," before I took the cup from him. The moment the hot chocolate touched my lips I felt awake.

Not only was it hot, but it was also amazing. I've never tasted anything like this before. Coffee was a luxury, this I cannot even fathom. After I've drained my cup, I put it down and muster a sheepish smile. "Is there more?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Effie seemed to be excited by my sudden interest. "Glad you're finally appreciating the finer things," she quipped as another cup was passed to me. "Right," I responded, gripping the cup tightly.

I stopped eating when I felt somewhat full, only asking for more hot chocolate. Peeta is still eating, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them in his hot chocolate.

Haymitch hasn’t paid much attention to his platter, but he’s knocking back a glass of red juice that he keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it’s some kind of spirit. I don’t know Haymitch, but I’ve seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He’ll be a mess again by the time we reach the Capitol.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He grinned, "Here's some advice, stay alive," then he burst out laughing.

My brows furrowed, "Ha. Ha." I let out, unamused. I glanced to Peeta, surprised to see Hardness in his eyes. Usually, he looked mild. "That's very funny," he said as if adding to my remark. He suddenly lashed out at the glass in Haymitch's hands. It shattered, spilling the blood-red liquid on the floor. "Only not to us,"

Haymitch took this opportunity to punch Peeta straight in the jaw, knocking the boy out of his chair before turning around to reach for more spirits. I stopped him, driving a knife into the table, between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers.

I expected some sort of retaliation, but that didn't come. "Oh, well what is this?" he said. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta rose from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He started to raise it to the red mark on his jaw.

"No," Haymitch stopped him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you’ve mixed it up with another tribute before you’ve even made it to the arena."

"That’s against the rules," said Peeta. "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren’t caught, even better," said Haymitch. He turns to me. “Can you hit anything other than the table?"

I shrugged, pulling the knife off the table. "Your head or. . ." I said, before tossing the knife in between the seams of two panels. If I was confident at one thing, it's my aim. But not so much with a bow.

"Stand over here. Both of you," ordered Haymitch, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces. “Well, you’re not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you’ll be attractive enough.”

Peeta and I don’t question this. The Hunger Games aren’t a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors. Though I do enjoy the fact that the stylists are likely going to have a hard time styling me.

"All right, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you," said Haymitch. "But you have to do everything I say,"

Of course, there's a catch. "Fine," Peeta said while I shrugged carelessly, sipping on my hot chocolate. "In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist," Instructed Haymitch

Oh, well there goes my plan on being a general nuisance. Damn you, Haymitch.

He takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but outside it’s as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains made them easy targets for the Capitol's air forces.

Peeta and I stood in silence. My finger raised, mouth opening but I decided it wasn't worth it and awkwardly shuffled to one of the windows. He seemed to have caught on, however. "Nice view, isn't it?" he joked.

"I guess if you're blind," I answered dryly, raising the warm cup to my lips. "Sophisticated darkness, my favourite type," I finished.

He chuckled, walking next to me, the train slowing on cue. My muscles tensed as the sunlight entered the compartment. It was blinding. After my eyes adjusted I finally saw the Capitol.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't beautiful. Rainbow hued buildings that tower to the sky, possibly beyond. Shiny cars rolling on the fancy, clean pavement streets. The cameras failed to capture its beauty. It would've been perfect if not for the fact that the oddly dressed colours, wearing blizzard wigs and painted faces exist.

They looked painfully artificial. I much prefer the natural tones of district 12. "Eugh, how do they look at themselves?" I muttered, catching the attention of Peeta, who chuckled at my comment.

Huh, I forgot that he was there.

The same disgusting people began to point at us, enthralled. I was sickened, they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other like wild wolves. I suppose that's better than ending up at soup.

I stepped back, a scowl on my face. No longer able to stand the obnoxious attires and the mocking smiles of scums. Peeta held his ground, smiling and waving at them.

He only stopped when the train stopped at the station, blocking up from their view. "Who knows?" he said. "Some of them may be rich."

My body seemed to freeze as I took one last sip of the now-luke warm hot chocolate. That's when I realized, I had misjudged him. Not that I can read people well.

Which made sense, if I could I would've known that his father visiting me, offering to help Haymitch only to challenge him and now, waving and smiling at those slugs. He had a plan in mind.

He hasn't accepted his death yet. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread was fighting hard.

And that terrified me.

word count: 2.8k

Hey guys! sorry for the long wait! Had to take a break!

tags;

@nin3s

[needtherapy]

The Necromancer’s Apprentice

Xue Yang has seen The Dark House and he’s heard the rumors that a zombie, a witch, and a necromancer live there. It’s stupid, obviously, but...well...maybe he’ll just sneak in one night and find out.

It’s better than doing nothing. It’s better than going back to the group home. It’s better than sleeping on the street.

Aka, three mildly feral twentysomethings are forcibly adopted by one (1) very feral thirteen-year-old Xue Yang.

Read on AO3

Many thanks to @coslyons for co-writing this with me (all the funniest parts belong to them) and @kevinkevinson for beta.

There is a Dark House in Ballard, and people say to avoid it.

It is probably not called the Dark House because evil lurks inside, although there is some debate about that. It is called the Dark House because it is black from threshold to cupola, from shutters to frames, and it looms on a block where whimsical shops of brick and steel are far more common. Unlike the thrift store and the record shop, the hiking outfitter and the vegan patissiere, no ivy reaches toward the roof of the Dark House. Unlike the local yarn store, no dogs sniff the Dark House’s gate, although at least two cats—also black, naturally—are always sitting on the porch.

It may not be fair to judge a house by its color, but the local legends are clear. If you step on the cracks in the sidewalk, the Dark House will steal your soul. The wrought iron gate of twining snakes comes alive under the light of the full moon to snap at unwary joggers. Children who walk alone after dark get eaten, and the yard is full of bones that wail songs of their murders.

Xue Yang sits on a bench, across the street, eating ice cream and admiring the house. He wonders about the sanity of people who mow the lawn and trim the roses, yet painted their pretty little house black, until it occurs to him that he could just go inside and find out.

He waits until dark, not to stay hidden, but because it’s a more terrible idea, and Xue Yang always gives himself permission to do more terrible things whenever he gets the chance. The high iron fence buzzes with a strange kind of energy that crackles in his palms, so Xue Yang wraps his hands tightly in his flannel shirt as he climbs over. His mother always said he was a practical boy, back when she was still around to say things.

Xue Yang lands in the backyard with a quiet thump onto thin and scraggly grass. The center of the yard is dark under the watery moonlight, with the dirt churned up and loose, and for the first time, a tiny twinge of warning pings in the back of his mind.

He ignores it.

With a flick of his wrist, he summons his knife, a long black switchblade that is seven kinds of illegal and which he loves more than anything else he has ever had, not that there is much competition. With nimble and practiced hands, he slides the knife between the door and the frame, twisting just right when he reaches the lock. With a grin of triumph, he turns the handle, shaped like a gaping mouth, and opens the door.

In the center of the room, there is a long sort of table that seems somehow to pull all the darkness of the room toward it. The shadows gather most thickly around a large, human-shaped lump laid out stiffly on top of it. Xue Yang reaches out to poke it and feels something unexpectedly warm give slightly under his finger.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Xue Yang shrieks.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the shadowy lump shrieks back.

“Why the fuck is everyone yelling?” a voice says, and the room is suddenly filled with light.

The shadowy lump rips off the sheet and turns into a guy in his early twenties with a scraggly little beard and wicked bedhead. The voice belongs to a grumpy-looking woman wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe. She squints at him in the oppressive brightness, glaring for a long moment before apparently deciding to deal with the man on the table first.  

“Wei Wuxian, I’ve told you a thousand times that the workshop is not a place for sleeping.”

“Technically—” the man begins, before being abruptly cut off by the woman.

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘yes, Wen Qing,’ then I don’t care. Go to bed.” She rounds on Xue Yang and he takes a tiny, involuntary step back. “You. What are you doing here?”

Before Xue Yang can answer, another guy—this one with long hair, killer tats, and a dedication to the goth look Xue Yang has to admire—runs in with a baseball bat held in his hands like a club.

“Jiejie! Is there something wrong?”

The woman—Wen Qing, she’d said—pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “It’s fine, A-Ning. I’m just trying to figure out what this little hooliganthinks he’s doing breaking into my house and tripping all of my wards while I’m trying to fucking sleep .”

Xue Yang is now convinced that what he’s broken into is some kind of madhouse, and he pastes a charming smile on his face, the one he uses when fists are clenched and the smell of alcohol burns in his nose. The smile whispers words like “anger issues” and “prone to destruction,” and it’s usually weapon enough, but he holds his knife a little tighter too, just in case.

The woman snaps around like she’s felt his fingers grip the handle of the blade and holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”

No. He will not. His chin tips dangerously, his smile grows icy spikes.

Her eyes narrow. “I could just take it.”

They face off for a minute, the tension almost palpable. Actually, Xue Yang thinks, it’s not tension after all. There’s something else in the air. It reminds him of the buzzing fence, and he doesn’t like the way it confuses him.

“Ah, Wen-jie, let him keep her. Can’t you tell? The kid is scared, they’re both scared, and it’s not like he can hurt us.”

Xue Yang is offended. He is not scared, but he’s relieved that Wei Wuxian spoke up all the same, because even though Wen Qing purses her lips and looks annoyed, she drops her hand.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms again. “Wei Wuxian, make sure our little guest leaves. I’m resetting the wards in five minutes and going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wei Wuxian grins and shoots finger guns at Wen Qing. “Sleep well and dream of me.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “Yes, because I love having nightmares.”

“Oh shoo.” Wei Wuxian flicks his hand at the goth man and Wen Qing. “To bed with you both. I can handle it.”

Their footsteps creak on the wooden floors as they walk further into the house. Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian wait in silence until the footsteps quiet, and then Wei Wuxian turns to Xue Yang. The grin he’d been wearing drops off his face and he looks serious, his eyes shaded and dark.

“Look kid, you should know better than to piss off powerful witches. It tends to be bad for the health.” The side of his mouth just barely tilts upwards, more wry than mirthful, and he looks old now. Old and grey and tired. “So, we’ll just call this a learning experience, and you’ll never come here again, right?”

Xue Yang snorts. “Are you kidding? If you’ve got real magic why the fuck would I leave now?”

“Toddlers shouldn’t swear.”

“I’m almost fourteen, fuck you very much.”

“Ah yes, I am now so convinced you are an adult.” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “It’s two in the morning. You want to go home and go to bed. There’s nothing here for you to be curious about at all.”

Something sibilant and musical weaves its way through the words, and Xue Yang has his hand on the door knob before he fights off the slithering compulsion.

Holy fuck that was cool.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” he says, sauntering back casually, pausing to look at a weird painting of a monster facing off with an axe-wielding guy in front of a lighthouse. He feels a very strong sense of camaraderie with it right now.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Sure, maybe you’ve got a little gift. But you’re a kid. Don’t you have parents who are going to, you know, notice you’re missing?”

Xue Yang stares him in the eyes, willing himself not to flinch. Something tells him this is a chance he’s never going to have again, a chance that requires honesty.

“No.” Xue Yang lifts his chin stubbornly. “I don’t.”

Wei Wuxian stares back, and Xue Yang gets the feeling that he sees all the years and all the disappointments that fit into that no. He doesn’t care. No one gives you what you want unless you take it.

This standoff lasts forever, or maybe it’s only a few seconds.

“She’s going to kill me,” Wei Wuxian mutters, and a little louder, “You can sleep on the couch tonight, but I’m locking you in the room and if you touch anything, I will turn you into a mannequin.”

He turns to leave, but looks back with a frown. “Wen Qing builds beautiful, elegant wards that you’ll never feel, never even notice if she doesn’t want you to. Mine will hurt. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Xue Yang decides, in the principle of magnanimity, to agree. “Whatever.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and points a finger at Xue Yang. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”

The words hold Xue Yang’s hand and lead him to the couch, make him lay down, and within minutes, he is asleep.

He opens his eyes to piercing sunlight and a pale face inches from his.

“What the fuck!” he yelps, instinctively grabbing for his knife and snapping it open.

“Mr. Wei, he’s awake and noisy,” the face says, and Xue Yang focuses on its features.

It’s the goth guy. His arms have full-sleeve tattoos, matching patterns of stark black geometric lines and circles, but his neck has weird black veins tattooed on it. His eyes, which are still way too close to Xue Yang’s, are so dark they’re practically black.

“Where’s the witch?” Xue Yang asks, sufficiently recovered to be an asshole.

“Boiling children,” Wei Wuxian retorts. He’s leaning over the table and taking notes in a tattered book, poking something with a tiny screwdriver. “It’s the only reason we let you stay.”

“Really?” Xue Yang can’t decide if that’s cool or terrifying.

“He’s always like that in the morning,” Goth Guy says conspiratorially. “By ten, he’s pretty nice again.”

“I’m never nice,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. “A-Ning, can you take our miscreant home, please? The last thing I need is cops knocking on The House door asking if we’re kidnapping children. Again.” “Okay, Mr. Wei.”

Xue Yang panics. He can’t go back there. Not since they found him alone with the fire. He knows what they’ll do, and he can’t go back. He won’t . He ducks under Goth Guy’s arm and has his knife angled under Wei Wuxian’s chin before he’s even processed the motor function commands “get up” and “don’t let him send you away.”

“No! You have to…” He scrambles though thoughts, desperate ideas, each one crazier than the last before he hits on words that work themselves loose from his mouth. “You said I had a gift, you have to teach me to use it.”

Wei Wuxian frowns, but instead of being afraid or angry, he tips his head and whistles, two notes that almost sound like a name. To his great shock and horror, Xue Yang’s knife vibrates in his hand, and his fingers snap open like a broken trap, dropping the knife onto Wei Wuxian’s waiting palm. He carefully folds the blade back into the handle.

“Jiangzai,” he says, almost affectionately.

It doesn’t mean anything, but then it does , and it hits Xue Yang so hard he collapses to the ground. The knife has a name, and he knows it’s right as soon as Wei Wuxian says it. Xue Yang’s heart pounds, and he hates it. He hates this motherfucker who just took his knife away and he hates the Goth Guy who is helping him back to his feet. He doesn’t want to stay anymore, and he shakes off Goth Guy, wishing he could throw his kindness on the floor and stomp on it.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe you have a little bit more than a little bit of a gift. But you still can’t stay, and I’m not teaching you anything.”

Xue Yang snatches his knife— his Jiangzai—out of Wei Wuxian’s hand and stomps to the door. “Fine. Fuck you.”

He gets as far as yanking the door open and slamming it against the wall before he realizes that there is a person in the way, and she doesn’t look inclined to move.

“Here you go, kiddo,” she says, handing him a bag. “I bought you some clean clothes and a toothbrush. A-Ning will show you where the bathroom is. Come back down for breakfast when you’ve changed.”

This is somehow more terrifying than when she was yelling at him. Yelling he understands. Now she’s just being...creepy. He stares at her belligerently, and she sighs.

“Listen, you little shit,” she says, bending over to look him dead in the eye. She doesn’t have to bend very far, he realizes. She’s actually tiny, even though she seems as big as the Fremont troll. “You will either go willingly with A-Ning, who is very nice, or you can test my patience and get buried in the yard with all the rest of the naughty children who break into my house. Your choice.”

Yeah, that’s more solid ground.

“Fine.” He grabs the bag from her and waves at the Goth Guy. “Lead the way, A-Ning .” He means it to be an insult, but Goth Guy just grins.

Xue Yang hears Wei Wuxian ask, “Wen Qing, what the fuck,” before Goth Guy herds him up the wide staircase, and he doesn’t hear any more of her answer than, “A-Xian, I can’t let him leave. You don’t understand, I did a location…”

This close to the Goth Guy, Xue Yang decides to acknowledge that the pale translucence of his skin is probably not makeup.

“I’m Wen Ning, by the way. I doubt Mr. Wei or jiejie introduced me,” Goth Guy—Wen Ning—says in a casual tone.

“So are you actually dead or what?” he asks Wen Ning, and Wen Ning grins.

“Or what,” he answers enigmatically, and gently shoves Xue Yang in a bathroom with pink tiles and a claw-foot tub.

Once he’s bathed and changed, Xue Yang heads back downstairs. Breakfast is bacon, eggs, and toast, and he doesn’t even pretend it isn’t the best food he’s eaten in a week. It is, in fact, the first food he hasn’t stolen in a week, and that alone is a novelty.

He’s halfway done with his food when Wei Wuxian, who hasn’t touched a bit of his and looks as sullen as an orange, says, “I have been informed that there is some arcane rule about teaching a gift you discover, and my...how did you put it, dear Wen Qing? My immortal soul and earthly being will be in danger if I don’t capitulate to the inevitable?”

He glares at Wen Qing, and she smiles sweetly at him.

“Whatever,” Xue Yang says around a mouthful of eggs. “Are you going to eat that?”

Wei Wuxian passes him the plate of food, and Xue Yang closes his eyes in bliss. Food is amazing.

“There are conditions—don’t look at me like that, Wen-jie. I agreed, okay? I get to set conditions. First of all, you do whatever I tell you. If I tell you to sell turnips on the street corner, you better sell some goddamn turnips. Second, you don’t touch anything unless I say it’s okay. A lot of this stuff,” he waves his hand around the white and yellow room, which looks surprisingly cheerful for a kitchen in a black house, “is priceless and dangerous, so…”

Wen Qing clears her throat and glares at Wei Wuxian.

“Uh...don’t touch anything.” Wei Wuxian finishes, snaking a piece of bacon from Xue Yang’s plate and shoving it into his mouth before disappearing back into his workroom.

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “I promise he’ll actually teach you stuff once he pulls his head—” She visibly checks herself. “Once he stops being an idiot. More bacon?”

The rest is on AO3

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Pink Chains

Part Seven.

Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment. 

Tags. @galagcica @haikyuu-but-low-iq @mocha-babes @derpeedoo @kayisweird @kozushiki @lunebabie

The ride back into the city was quiet; the only sounds were the crying kitten on your lap and Kyotanis music. No one was saying anything and Kyotani did not have his hand on your thigh, you were staring down at the kitten watching it wobble around on your lap trying to balance itself out. It was a brown cat with a white creamy head and back. Looked to be male, too.

You tucked the kitten closer to you watching it shine under the street lights then go dark then go light again. Kyotani was focusing on driving, his knuckles hurt and he could feel the irritation in his lip where Bokuto punched him. He was so goddamn angry at everything right now; he just wanted to give you a nice day after the shitty morning and day at school you had, he just wanted to see that smile on your face that he loved so much, that happy look that was just for him. He was going to end the night at his house with you in his arms watching whatever movie you wanted…

But everything changed so fast… too fast. He hated himself. What would have happened if he punched you? If he did not see you come between him and Bokuto? How bad would he have hurt you? ...it all hurt him right in his heart…

*

Kyotani pulled up to your apartment and helped you bring the things in from the zoo. You sat down on the ground by Mohas cat hut looking in with the kitten on your lap.

“Mocha.. I .. brought you a friend..” you said, breath shaky.

Kyotani could only watch, he wanted to console you so bad. Tell you its okay now, but he was not sure if he should even go over to you, or say your name.

Mocha emerged from her hut to see you and the kitten, you set the scared animal down and pet Mocha. “His name is Machi, short for Macchiato , hes your new friend okay?”

Mocha sniffed Machi and lightly grabbed at its neck dragging the kitten inside it. You sighed, relieved, Mocha could take it from here.

You got up to see Kyotani sitting at your table with his hands in his hair, elbows on his knees staring at the ground.

“Kyo..”

He didn't move.

Slowly you dropped to your knees again to fit between his legs so you could see him.

“Kyo i wanna go to your house….”

You blinked when his tears hit your face, his lip was fumbling and his nails were digging into his hair. You laid your head on his thigh talking very calmly.

“I enjoyed my day with you so much, ive never seen a lion before. They are so fluffy huh? I bet its fun to brush the males crazy hair. The wolves liked you too huh? Did you notice that?” you rubbed his leg soothingly feeling it twitch under you. “I bet they will remember you, especially the one who stared at you. I really liked the red pandas. I still cant believe you set that up. Just for me. Did you see them flop around? They are such silly creatures.”

Kyotanis left hand fell to weave itself into your hair to hold your head.

“I had a very nice day with you Kyo. What happened does not change that. Promise. You said yourself you wanna talk it out with Bokuto. When you do youll be friends. I know you can do it. Your my Kyo you can do anything.”

Kyotani choked out a heavy breath, it felt like he was holding everything in just to listen and focus on you. He pulled you up to press his forehead against yours. He had a very shaky and nervous voice.

“I-i-i-i… i kno-ow,, Sweetie.”

*

Kyo had indeed brought you to his house and you were very happy to be there, you were curious about this surprise he had mentioned and Kyo refused to say anything more on it.

It was a very nice big house. A fenced in yard with a even bigger garage.

You got out of the car watching the gate close behind you and Kyotani pulled you in for a hug from behind burying his nose in your neck holding you for a minute. Just taking it in, you were so special to him. You were the one for him, he knew it. And he was never letting go.

“Ready sweetie?”

“Yes yes !!!” you turned to give him a kiss and he sighed wiping the blood off your lips.

“Sweetie let me wash up first” he told you, taking your hand and going into home from the garage, the door sliding down on its own sealing the garage up.

“Be quick ab-”

A lot.. Of barking could be heard, a lot..

You hugged Kyotanis arm, squeezing it. “Puppies?!!!”

“Oi quiet down its 9 at night!!! King stop it!!!”

“Is that iwaizumi?” you asked him.

“Yep.” he took you up the stairs and opened the door to his living room.

A large all black german shepherd was barreling towards you barking its head off, it was deafening. Behind him was a yellow Shiba inu trying to bark equally as loud but he was not as big, next was a skinny tan pit bull barking low, his little tail wagging very fast.

“ BABIES!!!!” instantly you dropped down and the dogs tackled you with kisses and wagging tails. Your laughing was music to Kyotanis ears, god it helped so much.

Kyotani stepped over his dogs to go see Iwaizumi who was holding a white pomeranian. He pet it and instantly Iwaizumi could tell his friend had gotten in a fight. He did not say anything, just gave his rough looking friend a look. Kyotani shook his head looking back at you, you were standing now and petting all the dogs with a excited face.

“The big one is King, the shepherd. The Inu is Rex, the skinny one is Chicken Legs, hes a rescue,” he told you.

“And this is Mango! My lil baby” Iwaizimi said, holding the happy dog up .

“More babies!!” you gave each dog a nose kiss and hurried over to greet the happy snowball of a dog in Iwais arms. “So cute! All so cute!”

“Sweetie, my room is upstairs, go find something to change into okay? Ill be up in a minute”

“Kay! Iwaizumi Kyo has something hes gotta tell you!” you told him, all huffy.

“Oh yeah?” he teased putting the dog down .

All four dogs followed you up the stairs and Kyo shook his head knowing he would have to kick them out after he got up there.

As soon as they hear the door shut Iwai crossed his arms over his chest dipping his head at his friend taking in his cut lip and bloody knuckles. Kyotani sat down after grabbing a wet cloth and explained while he cleaned up.

“Seriously? “

“I dont even care that he showed up, i almost fuckin hit her.”

“Punched, is the correct word” his friend said sitting down with him. “What happened next?”

Kyotani shrugged, squeezing the towel for a second. “I broke down, i had accepted im a monster and that she was gonna run off leaving me. But instead she got on that dirty ground with me to yell at me and give me a talking to.” he wiped his knuckles, one by one. “She thought i started it but Bokuto spoke up, i told him to get in touch with Yahaba and then we left..”

“Christ..”

“Iwaizumi i dont know how shes still with me”

“I dont either. But shes special Kyotani, thats more than obvious now.”

“I want to move on from that day, that tourney. Everything, and start a life with her.”

“Well Yahaba will want this cleared up pretty soon so expect that in the morning, you know how he operates”

“Mhm,” Kyotani got up rubbing his face with the towel. “Ill see you tomorrow Iwaizumi, Oikawa is opening right?”

“Yep, lets hope he remembers how”

“God..”

*

Kyotani went up the stairs to see you in one of his old jerseys with no pants on with all the dogs sitting with you on the floor wagging their tails. You were petting each one and telling each one something special about them.

Kyotani put his hands on his hips whistling, alerting the dogs.

“Cmon now.” he motioned for the stairs.

The dogs pouted and you giggled getting up to sit on the bed criss cross. All the dogs went to Kyotani and he moved to the side. “Out, out out, “ he told them walking behind them. Each dog flopped down the steps except for Chicken Legs, he was whimpering and giving Kyotani a nervous look.

“Scared to go down still?” he crouched down picking up the dog. “ okay okay,” Kyotani brought the dog downstairs and gave it a gentle hug. “Go get some sleep, she will be here in the morning.” He made sure Chicken Legs made it into the dogs room before going back upstairs, closing his door with a sigh. Kyos room was full of posters, trophies, and jerseys. He had a desk with an expensive laptop sitting on it and a little picture bored next to it with pictures of him and lal of his volleyball friends. His bed was very big, a King size maybe. It was across from a big screen tv that sat next to the wall.

“Kyo…”

He looked up after ditching his pants and shirt to see you waiting for him to join you.

You looked so perfect in that jersey to him. He made his way over spotting you clothes on his floor along with a pink bra. He crawled in the bed pulling you on his lap facing him giving you a a really long deep kiss.

[nagia-pronounced-neijia]

w(h)ip wednesday

It's a surprisingly quaint little farm, the kind of thing some traveller from the far-away west might paint into his little journal and tell all the Belgians and Austrians and French about.  Green hills rise up in a gentle roll, with occasional stones that must have tumbled down from God-knows-where, looking pushed up through the grass and the barley like crooked teeth.  Sheep meander among the gray rocks, bleating occasionally to each other and munching on the plants.

As they step past the low wooden fence, Trevor spots a goat chewing cud in a pen.  It stares disinterestedly at them, eyes gleaming with that peculiar mix of cunning and stupidity native to goats.  If it was ever a person, their mind seems long gone, he thinks, replaced by a goat's determination to be the biggest pain in the arse it possibly can.

They keep going and find a yard full of chickens.  Here chickens, there chickens, everywhere fucking chickens.  Mostly roosters, judging by the wattles, which he finds odd, and when Sypha steps too close to a hen, one of the stupid cockerels jumps at her.  His wings flutter, feathers flying further than he can, and he seems determined to murder her with talon, beak, or both.  He makes the most insane noises as he does it, like metal screaming.

It's instinct to try and put himself between her and something trying to hurt her.  Even something as small and stupid and surprisingly vicious as a pissed-off chicken.  He raises his arms to block the pecks and scratches, glad of the fur-and-leather vambraces, thick enough that he feels nothing.

"Calm the hell down," Trevor says, and puts a boot to the bird, which doesn't improve his disposition, exactly, but does manage to make him reconsider attacking.  "I'll do it again," Trevor warns him, and immediately feels like an idiot.

But the rooster subsides, sulky, glaring at them both with beady eyes.

And the cabin door swings open.  The woman who steps outside isn't quite pretty, but she's striking.  He thinks her nose might have been broken, once, and her hair falls loose around her shoulders in a riot of deep red that catches in the sun.

But it's her hands he's most interested in, and, just like every family book always said, they tell the real story to him immediately.

Her face may look youngish -- certainly only of middle years -- but her hands, too pale, have wrinkles and liver spots, a sure sign of a witch.  The deep, nearly black bruising that extends from the nail to the second knuckle of her littlest fingers, however, is the mark of a witch who has embraced questionable magic, if not outright reveled in the foulest and blackest of workings.

Beside him, Sypha moves to wave one arm.  "You must be Sârșe," she says, and he can hear that she's smiling.

The woman inclines her head.  "I am.  And who might you be?"

"I"m Sypha, and this is Trevor."  She jabs at him with an elbow.  He doesn't jab back, but mostly because he's trying to figure Sârșe out.

"Hello," he says, about a second after Sypha's pointy elbow makes contact a second time.

Sârșe watches them both.  Absolutely no emotion colors her face.  Even her eyes look flat and lifeless, no more interested in them as people than the goat had been.  "What have you come to find?"

He sighs.  "Oh, we found it already."

"Trevor," Sypha hisses.

But Trevor ignores her.  "Look, we know you're a witch.  Well, Sypha suspects.  But I know.  And I don't care about the whole," here, he makes a sort of quotation mark with the fingers of both hands, "'demons into chickens' thing.  Not sure anybody should be eating those, but it's not my business."

The very furthest corner of Sârșe's mouth curls up for about a second before smoothing back down.  Her gaze remains flat.  "And what is your business?"

"I'm not saying I expect you to turn them all back, mind, because I know that's not how it works.  But how many of your sheep used to be people?"

He's a little relieved when, rather than hotly deny it, Sârșe licks her lips.  "All of them," she says, calmly, like she doesn't care at all.

Well, that explains at least one of her fingers.  Hell, he's a little surprised it hasn't spread further.

Sypha's the one to step forward and ask, "Do you have any plans to stop?"

Sârșe stares between them for what feels like several minutes.  It's probably not even a whole minute of its own, but it sinks its teeth into him and drags.  Her eyes look like empty wells, endless and awful.

"No," she says, still very calm.

"Told you," he mutters to Sypha.  "When they're this far gone, they don't really listen to reason."

That draws Sârșe's attention.  She snaps her head to look at him.  Something even darker stirs in her dark eyes, moving and shifting, and they bite into him.  He doesn't look away, but he wants to, because eyes like those see, and the brain behind them judges, and men are always found wanting in a gaze like that.

Found wanting and then turned into farm animals.  And then potentially sold at fucking market day, to be slaughtered and eaten. Christ.

"Do you think yourself such a hero, Trevor Belmont?"`

He lets out a short bark of a laugh.  "I helped kill fucking Dracula, sure.  But what I was really doing was helping a man kill his own father.  What kind of hero is that?"

She repeats the question back at him, emphasizing it.  "What kind of hero is that, Trevor Belmont?"

"No kind at all," he replies.

And, for the first time, she smiles.  It's terrible and pitying.  "Will you kill fucking Sârșe?  And if you do, what will you really have done?"

Sypha fields this one.  "We'll have stopped animals that used to be people being sold and eaten by those who once knew them.  You have to admit that's grotesque."

"I admit no such thing.  They know who I am.  They know the consequence of crossing me.  They know what I bring to market day.  They choose to buy from me regardless.  Their business is no business of mine."

God, witch logic.  It's all perfectly factual, but frustratingly circular in a way he can't put words to.  A sort of pure, unfeeling truth that leaves no room for honesty or humanity.  Infuriating.

"Yeah, done with you, now," Trevor says, and draws the Vampire Killer.  Consecration is little good against witches except in their hands, but the Morningstar would be worse than useless.

Where's a rowan branch when you need one?  Not that there would be a single rowan tree on this property; they would have all died the first time she took a piss here.  Hell, if he were half the Belmont that Sypha thinks he is, he'd have a fucking pouch of salt on him, and he doesn't.  Their salt is in the wagon with their goddamned cooking supplies.

Sypha conjures a ring of fire, driving away all the chickens and other animals from the farm, and Sârșe's eyes widen for a moment.  She looks between them again, gaze darting from Sypha to Trevor, trying to determine if the Belmont or the fellow magician is the bigger threat.

She apparently decides on him, because she flings an arm out and tries to drag him toward her.

Trevor, more used to this sort of thing by now than he likes, drops forward.  He lets himself fall, and feels the grip of the spell break as his weight pulls him away from it.  His hands hit the ground first, and he pulls himself into a roll, coming up on one knee.

He lashes out with the whip, half-turning to improve its force as he lets his arm flow then jerks his wrist.  The line sings out, tip whistling, and the metal end bites into her hand.

Her finger flies away, landing with a sort of wet, useless noise in the dirt.

Sârșe doesn't even scream.  She just looks between her now maimed hand and the finger on the ground.

"That was very stupid," she says, somehow wholly unbothered by the fact that he just tore off part of her hand, a part she probably uses pretty often.  She raises the same hand, even as it bleeds, and makes a curling gesture with her remaining fingers.

Once again something grips him, trying to pull him closer.

When she raises her other hand, Sypha slides sideways, colliding with one of the wooden fences.  It cracks with the force she hits it at, splintering.

He's not thinking when he sends the whip out again.  It's anger that drives him to it, and this time, he gets her in one of those tainted, blackened littlest fingers, and Sârșe screams.  At first it's just a gurgling sound of pain, thin and high, like any woman might make when a man reached out and hurt her because he could.

But then it turns to something else.  Something thick and strange sounding, that scratches at his ears and the air around him.

"I name you worm, that crawls in the dust," Sârșe says.  "I name you dog, that licks his master's hand.  I name you cock, that lords himself over nothing.  I name you buck-goat, that ruts and farts, and I name you pig, that wallows in shit."

Absolutely no imagination on the woman.  He supposes whatever demon she serves, or made a deal with, or whatever, has probably long eaten it.  "People have really got to find worse things to call me."

Sârșe laughs.  "What a strange worry," she says casually.  "But needless.  You'll call yourself all those things, in the end, and worse."  And she raises both hands, and this time, she really does manage to pull him in, mostly because he lets her.

Once he's close, she smears her blood on his cheek and smiles that terrible, pitying, dark-eyed smile, and the empty wells of her eyes stare at him, judgmental, even as he sinks one of his knives into her throat.

He pays no attention to the witch's body after that.  Instead, he runs for Sypha.  She'd fallen among the splinters, and he doesn't even think about kneeling, about passing his hands over her to feel for blood, for anything sticking out or misplaced.

"Are you alright?  That was some hit."  And fuck him, his job is to be the one taking the hits.  He still hasn't forgiven himself for the scars on her upper arm from their fight with Dracula.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she grumbles.  "Help me up."

He does, splaying one hand under her back and supporting her under the elbow with his other hand.  He hefts her up, taking most of her weight, and she stumbles a little as she rises.  She leans heavily against him, and he lets her, wrapping one arm loosely around her shoulders.  "You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she snaps, predictably irritated, and waves a hand at him.  "Leave it be."

"Alright, alright, if you say so.  And, well, she's dead.  If we're lucky, some of these people might start turning back.  Do we want to be here for that?"  They probably should.  He thinks his uncle would have.  His father certainly would have.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch2: Hey Sailor

Chapter Summary: Mary is excited for her first riding lesson, and it seems that she’s not the only one…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Again, as you will all know I’m a Brit so apologies if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me. This chapter is a bit of a filler, things start getting a bit more interesting in the next one, and then we’ll be diving into the Gifted story line in Chapter 4.

Thanks to my beta reader/sounding board @icanfeelastormbrewing​ for her input and her modes of transport kink...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

“Mary…” Frank sighed. “Take the boots off and get in bed.” “You told me that Miss Gallagher said I needed to wear them.” she looked at him.

“Yeah, but you can’t wear them in bed…”

Mary flopped onto the side of her bed and reached down to unzip the boots before she kicked them off and Frank picked them up and placed them out of the way. Mary shuffled down under her covers and lay her head back on the pillow and, once she was settled, Frank gently smoothed her blonde hair back off her face and smiled at her. Times like this she really did remind him of Diane.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?” “Can I read for a little while?” she asked.

Frank rolled his eyes “Mary…”

“Please!”

“Fine, fifteen minutes tops. And I’ll be in to turn the light off, ok?” With a grin she sat up and reached for her latest book- Moby Dick, and he dropped a kiss to her head and left her to it. He made his way into the kitchen, cleared the dishes and then grabbed a beer his attention turning to the table which was had clear, the other half scattered with the parts from one of the engines he had been working on. He knew he really shouldn’t bring this home with him but sometimes it was just easier.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it, glancing down at the unknown number.

“Hi Mr Adler, just a courtesy message to remind you of Mary’s lesson tomorrow at One. If you can’t make it please let me know ASAP so I can offer the slot to someone else. Otherwise see you then. Regards, Fliss.” Frank smiled, like he would have chance to forget. Mary had talked of nothing else since Saturday. His fingers hovered over the reply button, before he dropped the phone back down. He didn’t need to reply…did he? I mean…

Oh fuck it. What was a bit of harmless flirting? He picked the phone back up and tapped in a quick response.

“Like I’d have chance to forget. She’s been like a broken record since Wednesday. I had to pry her

boots off tonight as she was threatening to wear them in bed.” Setting the phone down he headed back through to check on Mary, her 15 minutes was over. He found her fast asleep, book clutched to her chest. Gently taking it from her, he slipped the bookmark into the page and turned off the lights, making sure she was tucked in. When he moved back into the main part of the trailer he had a reply.

“Brilliant! That’s what I like to hear. Get used to it, you’re going to hear about nothing but horses now for the rest of your life.” “Great, I can’t wait…” he set his Nokia down, not really having a smarter response to that, so he gathered a few pieces of the engine, setting to work. About five minutes passed and his phone went again.

“You know I offer starter lessons for adults too, maybe you should try it, see if you understand what the fuss is all about.” “No thanks, my feet stay firmly on the ground. Unless I’m on a boat.” “A boat? I didn’t have you pegged as a sailor?” At that Frank let out a bark of a laugh.

“I’m not, not really. I fix them. And besides, you don’t sail speedboats.” “What do you do then?”

“You drive them.”

“Do you drive them on water?” “Dur.” “That’s called Sailing.”

His work abandoned, he took a pull from his beer bottle and shook his head, smile tugging at his lips as he replied.

“But they don’t have sails…” “It’s a boat. It goes on water. It’s called Sailing.” “Alright, I bow to your superior knowledge…” “Glad we agree…even if I do detect a serious underlying tone of sarcasm in your message. See you tomorrow Sailor.” He laughed again, shaking his head. He tapped in a goodnight and placed the phone down, turning his attention to his work.

***** “What are you grinning about?” Bill Gallagher looked at his daughter as they walked across the field, Thor and his own dog, Rupert, hurtling ahead in front of them, their flashing collars keeping them located in the twilight.

“Oh, nothing, just winding someone up.” she smiled “One of the dad’s from tomorrow’s lesson, trying to convince me you drive, not sail, a speedboat.” “Hmmm…well they don’t have sails.” Bill mused.

“Whatever, they go on water, they sail.” Fliss shrugged, slipping her phone back into her pocket as Frank’s ‘Goodnight’ rounded off their conversation.

“So, who is he then?” Bill asked.

“Oh, his name’s Frank.” Fliss replied, nonchalantly, but her dad didn’t miss the flicker of a smile that hit her mouth.

“Is he the one that your mum said was eyeing you up in the bar?” “He was not eyeing me up.” Fliss groaned “He was just being friendly.” “Sure he was.” “Dad.” she warned him, nudging him with her elbow.

“What?” “You know what!” she laughed “Stop it.” “Alright.” he smiled, holding his hands up “I yield, it’s just nice to see you happy, that’s all.” “Well, I am.” she said after a moment, and she meant it “The last six months the riding school has taken off, I’m feeling more, well, myself than I have in years. Just need to find an apartment now.” “Well, on that.” Bill looked at her. “Me and your mum have been thinking. We thought, maybe, you might want to move into the annex. We can do it up, gives you your own space…”

Fliss paused walking and turned to her dad. “That’s where Steeby stays though, when he comes out with Sian and the kids.” “There’s plenty of room in the house.” Bill shrugged “And they come like what, four times a year? It’s stood empty the rest of the time.” Fliss bit her lip.

“It’s just an idea and your brother won’t mind. Look, I know it’s probably not what you had in mind, living in your parent’s annex but for the time being until the Yard starts to turn over more of a profit we just thought it might give you a little bit more freedom.” “Whilst still staying close.”

“I want to keep you safe Titch.” Bill shrugged “I didn’t do that before but,” “Dad don’t.” Fliss shook her head “None of that, it wasn’t your fault. I hid from everyone what was happening…you didn’t know.”

“I should have.” he sighed “You’re my daughter.” “He had everyone fooled, including me. This is no one’s fault but his, I get that now.” Bill smiled and pulled her into a hug. “I know.”

“We should head back.” Fliss smiled, pulling away. “Mum will be wondering where we are.”

“You have anything to finish off?” he asked

“Nope, everything is out for the night and looks reasonably settled.” she squinted at the various horses dotted across her land.

“Hmmm, unlike this fencing.” Bill frowned, examining the broken bit of post and rail that Fliss had patched up with electric tape “This could do with replacing, love.” “Yeah, I know.” she shrugged “I was going to mention it but forgot. The temporary fix has worked for the time being.” “I’ll stop by and do it tomorrow.” he nodded, “Won’t take me long. I’ll level that top field as well whilst I’m at it if you want.” “Thanks Dad” she smiled. In comfortable silence they made their way back towards the main part of the yard. *******

Fliss grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in her office and took a long drink. The heat was pretty intense today, and she was just wondering if really holding Mary’s lesson as advisable when she realised it wasn’t like they’d be doing anything too strenuous. She adjusted her baseball cap and walked back onto the yard, shouting instructions to the three members of staff to go and take a water break. Just as they were passing her towards the office, she saw Frank and Mary walking onto the yard. Mary was sporting a new riding hat and Fliss couldn’t help but smile.

“Well check you out!” she said, tapping the little girl on the head “Nice hat.” “I liked the silver on it!” Mary grinned, pointing to the sparkly strip that ran along the front.

“Me too.” Fliss nodded. “I have the same hat but mine has blue sparkles.” she straightened up and looked at Frank. “Hey Sailor.” He gave a snort of a laugh “I told you, you don’t sail speedboats.” “They go on water.” Mary said, “Its’ sailing.” “Ha, see!” Fliss laughed

Frank sighed “Whatever.” The corners of his mouth turned up and he handed Fliss the forms he had brought back.

“Oh great…” she thanked him “I’ll just file these and then Ruby will get Monty ready. I thought you might like to help her.” Mary nodded eagerly. Fliss excused herself and Frank heard her shouting something and a moment later a tall, wirey Hispanic girl emerged from the office with a saddle. Fliss followed, bridle slung over her shoulder and gestured for Mary to follow. Frank watched as the girl skipped off following and headed after her at a slower pace, rubbing at his neck which felt like it was burning. He’d slathered Mary in sunscreen before but of course had forgotten his own.

He stepped into the relative cool of the barn and watched as the stable hand was explaining to Mary what each piece of tack was as she began to place it onto the pony. He knew Mary would be taking all of this in, just like she did with everything, and Roberta would be hearing all about it later on.

Fliss handed over the bridle and stepped back, heading towards Frank. “I normally do have the ponies ready” she said, almost apologetically “But I thought she’d enjoy this bit.” “You thought right.” Frank laughed “I was just thinking to myself she’ll be chewing our neighbour’s ear off later.”

Fliss smiled and they both stood in silence watching until the other girl said they were ready.

“Alright, let’s go!” Fliss grinned and they walked out into the yard. She took the pony from her staff member with a thanks, and walked with Mary following into the riding paddock. Frank leaned on the fencing outside as Fliss led Mary and Monty over to the wooden mounting block at the side.

“Ok, so…” she turned to Mary and patted the top step “Climb up here…” Mary hopped up.

“Left foot in this stirrup,” she instructed. Mary placed her foot in. “Left hand here,” she guided it to the front of the saddle, “and then I want you to swing your right leg over.” Mary did as she was told, sitting down on the saddle.

“Good stuff kiddo!” Fliss smiled as she checked the stirrups “Ok, so we need to put these up a hole so…”

She busied herself shortening the stirrup leathers, and eventually when she was happy she nodded.

“So, what we’re gonna do for today is a bit of walking around, and stopping, and then if you’re happy with your balance we can try a bit of trot ok?” Mary grinned.

“Right…so take your reins…” Fliss showed her how to hold the reins correctly, and then she slipped the lunge line through the ponies bit and looked at the girl. “If you feel wobbly or anything you grab this…” she said, gesturing to the leather strap around the pony’s neck. “And shout to me ok?”

Mary nodded.

Fliss began to walk besides the pony who followed her like a dog. Mary all the time concentrating on what she was doing. Fliss explained to her how her legs made the animal go, and how to make it stop, and they practiced that for five minutes before Fliss moved slightly further away to let Mary take a bit of control, instructing her to go, then stop, go, then stop…

Frank watched intently. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly nervous about Mary falling off but he knew that he had to let her discover all this for herself. He leaned further over on the fence, watching and couldn’t help but smile at the look on Mary’s face, she was concentrating so hard her brow was furrowed, tongue poking out from the side of her mouth.

“Your kid?” a deep voice with a similar accent to Fliss said and he turned to his right to see a tall, stocky guy in his sixties, maybe, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans looking at him.

“Neice.” he nodded, “First lesson.” “Ahh...” the man chuckled “Yeah I remember Fliss’ first lesson. I crapped myself.” Frank let out a laugh “Yeah, I’m a little nervous.” “Bill Gallagher” The man stuck his hand out “Fliss’ dad.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Frank.” Bill looked at him, nodding before his attention turned to the paddock “Hey, Titch, sorry to interrupt…” Fliss stopped the pony and turned to her dad “Hey.” “Fencing is done but I can’t get that bloody tractor started, so the field’s gonna have to wait.” “I can look at it.” Frank offered immediately “I mean, if you want.” Bill turned to him, “You a mechanic?” “No he’s a sailor.” Fliss shot back and Frank rolled his eyes.

“I fix boats. Engines, that type of thing.” “Huh.” Bill nodded appraisingly. “Well if you wouldn’t mind…” “Not a problem. Mary you okay here if I go for a minute?” Mary looked at him “Dur.” Bill let out a chuckle as Frank turned to him “Tell me raising them gets easier.” “Oh no mate.” Bill shook his head, grinning “You just get different shit to deal with.” Frank followed the man round to the back of the barn and spotted a dark green baby tractor. Bill explained what it was doing and Frank crouched closer to have a look before he headed to his truck for the jump leads.

After ten minutes or so he’d found the problem. They could start it, but it wasn’t holding any charge. Meaning when the turned the engine off it needed jump starting again.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the alternator.” he chewed his lip, stepping back “I’ll need to strip it down to see whether I can repair it or if it needs a new one but we can get it started again you can do what you need to do for today.”

Bill nodded “So not quite ready for the scrap heap?” “Not quite.” Frank smiled, wiping his hands on his jeans “Just needs a bit of a fiddle with.” “Don’t we all?” Bill quipped, making Frank laugh. They jump started it again and Bill thanked him before hopping on and heading over to the gate that led to the field.

By the time Frank returned, he was surprised to see that Mary was now riding the pony almost unaided in a circle around Fliss who was holding the end of the line attached to the Monty’s bridle as it trotted around. Mary was gripping the strap round the pony’s neck and trying to rise in time to the trot. It was clumsy and she was a little bit out of balance but that didn’t matter. He could hear Fliss shouting gentle encouragement to her, counting out the rhythm and eventually Mary fell in time with her counts.

“Good!” Fliss beamed “see, I told you you’d get it…” This continued for another 5 minutes or so before Fliss told Mary to slow Monty down to a walk and give him a good pat. They walked the pony around for a while, to give him chance to cool down a little before Fliss walked towards Mary gathering up the line as she went.

“That was awesome for a first go!” she said, smiling “Did you enjoy it?”

Mary nodded “Yeah, it was really cool!”

“Good!” Fliss said. “Now I’m gonna unclip the line and walk around for a bit. He’ll follow me but when I stop I want you to stop him yeah?”

Mary nodded eagerly and she unclipped the line and began to walk. Fliss knew Monty would stop when she did but she wanted to let Mary have a go anyway. They did a lap of the paddock and on the second she stopped by Frank.

“Look, Frank!” Mary smiled “I’m not on the line.” “Yeah, I see!” he smiled at her “Good job!”

“How’s my tractor?” Fliss asked.

“Think it’s the alternator. We got it started for your dad but I’ll need to strip it down properly…I can come back tomorrow and sort it properly if you want?” “Oh, I don’t wanna put you out.” Fliss started to protest but Frank shook his head

“It’s no bother, honestly.” he ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t promise I can fix it but I’ll be able to see if I can or if you need a new one.” Fliss looked at him and then nodded “Alright, but in that case today is free.” “No, that’s not why I offered.” Frank began to protest but Fliss shook her head

“I know.” she smiled that damned gorgeous smile again, and Frank felt his stomach flip. “But I’d like to.” Frank looked at her for a moment, her brown eyes locked onto his and he swallowed, nodding. “Ok, thanks.” “Wait am I coming back tomorrow?” Mary asked

“I’m booked up, sorry sweetie.” Fliss looked at her “But you’re welcome to come anyway, that is if Frank says its okay. You can always give Monty a groom.” “We’ll see. “Frank looked at Mary.

“I can put her to work.” Fliss said, grinning “Nothing like a bit of child labour.” “That’s illegal.” Mary said.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Fliss looked at her and Frank gave a chuckle.

They made their way out of the paddock and Fliss showed Mary how to swing her leg back round the saddle and slide down. She landed on her feet and took the reins from Fliss’ hand, leading the pony back to his stable. She helped untack and then Fliss handed her the bridle to carry. They walked into the office and Fliss tapped a code into the door to the left and led them into a tidy tack room, rows of saddles and racks adorned the wall along with bridle pegs and a few shelves full of rugs and blankets for the horses. Fliss slipped the saddle onto a spare rack and then directed Mary to Monty’s bridle peg. Frank took the bridle from her as the peg was a little high and hooked it over.

“Now, you need a drink.” Fliss looked at Mary “I got water or some apple juice.”

 “Apple please.”  Mary said. Fliss nodded and headed back into the office, giving her a juice box from the fridge “Frank?”

“Oh, errr, water would be great thanks.” She handed him a bottle and he screwed off the tap.

“So, do you want to book in again now or do it tomorrow?” Fliss looked at him. “I think she’ll cope on the group lesson fine.” “So when do they run?”  Frank asked, swallowing his water.

“Saturday afternoons at two.” Fliss said. “Or Wednesday at six.” “Can we come Saturday?” Mary asked.

Frank hesitated “I did say you couldn’t do this every week.” “Yeah but you didn’t pay for today.” Mary shot back.

Jesus Christ

He glanced up at Fliss who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Fine, you can come this Saturday but then that’s it, we go to every other week like we agreed, okay?” Mary nodded.

“Settled, I’ll book you in.” Fliss grinned. “If you get here about quarter to I’ll introduce you to the other girls before you join.” Mary frowned a little, before she recovered and nodded. “Okay.” “So do you like work here every day?” Frank asked and Fliss nodded

“Mostly. If I want a day off then I get Joanne to cover the lessons and the girls can open and close up.” she said “But it’s few and far between. Like I said, still in the early days so…”

Frank nodded “Yeah I know what it’s like, trying to get yourself established.” “I take it you’re a self-employed sailor then?” Fliss smiled and he gave a grin back and nodded.

“He takes me for rides.” Mary said “In the boats sometimes.” “That’s really cool. I’ve never been on speedboat.” Fliss mused.

“You should come with us one day, right Frank?”

Frank hesitated a little, surprised to find that he wasn’t filled with dread at the idea of her joining them.

“I’m sure Fliss has enough to be doing without you demanding more of her time.” he shot the girl a look, his tone even.

“Yeah, I’m very busy.” Fliss smiled, offering him a way out. He shot her a thankful look.

“We can do it when you’re free…” “Mary!” Frank’s tone was exasperated as Fliss laughed.

“Maybe one day.” she said, nodding.

This placated the girl somewhat and she bounced off towards the truck.

“Sorry.” Frank turned to Fliss “She can be a little bit…” “Tenacious?” “I was gonna say a pain in the ass.” Frank shrugged, causing Fliss to laugh, her soft chuckles made him feel a little warm, or maybe it was the afternoon heat…

“She’s a good kid.” Fliss said gently.

Frank smiled and then jerked his head in the direction of the car park “I better…” “Sure.”

“I’ll drop you a message about tomorrow?” Fliss nodded “Yeah, but don’t put yourself out.” “Well I owe you now for the lesson so…” he shrugged “I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Yeah, guess you will.” Fliss smiled. There was a pause again and Frank nodded, before he turned and headed after Mary. He turned to look over his shoulder at Fliss who was now walking back towards her office before he wandered onto the car park to find Mary was now chewing Bill’s ear off.

“For the love of God.” he mumbled as he drew nearer to find her mid discussion with the man about the Olympics.

“Did you go?” she was asking.

“You bet!” Bill smiled “I’ll tell you something else as well…” “What?” “Those fences are even bigger in real life than they look on the photos.” “It said on the internet she jumped One meter forty!”

“The internet?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, we googled her.” Frank groaned “Mary.” “What?” she looked at him. “I was just saying…” “Well don’t.” He said, “Truck, now…”

“It was nice to meet you Mary.” Bill smiled as the little girl bid him goodbye.

“Sorry.” Frank apologised to him.

“Don’t be silly.” Bill waved his apology off. “She wasn’t doing any harm.”

“I meant about the google thing.” Frank sighed. “We weren’t prying, she was just curious after seeing the medal and…” Bill shook his head “Kids are nosey.” he shrugged.

With another nod he climbed in the truck and turned to Mary with a sigh “What did I say to you about not telling Miss Gallagher we googled her?” “I didn’t.” Mary said “I told her dad.”

There was a pause as Frank contemplated what she had said, and realised technically she was right. He should have closed that particular loop hole. “Smart ass.” He grumbled back, before he clipped in her belt and they left.

***** Fliss was surprised to see Mary wasn’t with Frank the next day. Frank explained he had come straight from the boat yard so she was busy doing some lesson work with their neighbour. “Gives me chance to work without her continually running around causing a nuisance.” he had explained, setting his tools down by the tractor.

Fliss chuckled, “Ok, well, I got another client due in a second so just give me a shout if you need anything.” He nodded. It didn’t take him long to realise he had been right. It was the alternator. He took the engine apart and was leaning over it on the flat bed of his truck when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look at Fliss.

“It is the alternator, but it looks like it’s the brushes inside.” he said, “I can fix this.” She nodded, the movement almost imperceptible, and he frowned at the look on her face. She’d glazed over in front of him, eyes were widened, almost like she was stuck in a memory.

And she was. Something about the fact he’d been leaning over the back of a truck, his grubby t-shirt riding up slightly, dirt on his hands and arms had stirred a really inappropriate thought in her head…which in turn had triggered another flashback.

“He was fixing the car.” Fliss looked at John “I offered him a drink, that’s all…” “He was in our kitchen.” John advanced “I saw you looking at him. Admiring him…” “I wasn’t…”

“Don’t LIE TO ME!” John’s voice as loud and then there was a stinging slap to the side of her face, which sent her reeling. As she recovered, the ringing in her ear still loud from the blow, she gently reached up to her cheek, tears stinging her eyes. John’s face was immediately apologetic, and he reached out for her, causing her to shrink back against the counter.

“You hit me.” she gasped.

“Sugar, I’m so sorry.” John stuttered, his eyes filing with tears “I didn’t, you just made me so jealous…I…” He held his arms out and pulled her to him, his hands on her back as he dropped a kiss to her head “I will never do that again, I’m sorry…” “Fliss?”

She started slightly and looked at Frank. “Yeah, sorry, I was…” “Miles away?” he frowned.

“Something like that.” she nodded, shaking her head “Sorry, you said you could fix it?”

“Yeah.” he said “I can take it with me and then I can bring it back Saturday unless you need it before that?”

“No, Saturday’s fine.” she said gently.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry but are you sure you’re ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” she spoke quickly. “Look, I gotta get on and…” “Sure.” he nodded, “I should be going anyway…” She smiled at him, and turned and headed back to the yard.

****

“You clearly triggered something.” Roberta said to Frank wisely as they both sat in his living room later that evening. He’d just finished telling her about the afternoon. “Some kind of memory.”

Frank hmmed his response. “Question is why are you so bothered?” Roberta asked.

“I’m not, I just, well it wasn’t nice to see. She looked so scared.” “Well you said her husband was sent down for assaulting her.” Roberta shrugged “She’s clearly had a lot of trauma. Maybe she just needs a friend.” “Yeah, maybe.”

“Could be good for both of you.” “I know what you’re doing.” Frank looked at her sternly

“I’m not trying to do anything!” Roberta chuckled

“Course you’re not.” he rolled his eyes before he changed the subject.

It wasn’t until he was alone later, that he pulled his phone out to text Fliss. He’d typed out his message, just a perfectly innocent one to check she was okay before he deleted it, shaking his head.

Whatever it was, it really was none of his business. He had enough of his own past demons to live with as it was.

But the more he lay there the more it wound him up. And he couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head.

“Fucks sake,” he grumbled, before he retyped the message and sent it.

**** Fliss was curled up on the sofa watching TV. Her parents were out for the evening so she was making the most of enjoying the space. Her phone went and she leaned over to grab it from the coffee table, unable to stop smiling as she saw who it was from.

“Hey, just wanted to check you were ok after before. I hope I didn’t do anything or say anything that upset or scared you.” The last line made her heart sink. He clearly knew about her past. Her dad had mentioned something about them googling her, and the case had been fairly big news amongst the equestrian circuit so she knew that the story was out there to read. Well, most of it was anyway. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking of how to respond. She hated that even after almost a year of him being out of her life John was till effectively a shadow she couldn’t seem to emerge from.

“It’s not your fault. I get flashbacks sometimes, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well the past has a way of doing that. Trust me, I know.”

Fliss smiled gently as she tapped out her response. “Yeah, what is it Rafiki says on the Lion King? You can either run from your past or learn from it?”

Little over thirty seconds later he responded.

“Sound advice from a cartoon monkey…not always that easy in real life. If you ever want a non-judgmental ear to talk to, I’m a pretty good listener if you fancy a beer and a chat. Just as friends.” There was just something about this man, something that Fliss couldn’t help but warm to. She wasn’t stupid, the girls at the yard had told her a bit about him, his reputation amongst the ladies…he was a bit of a player from all accounts, but there was something there, something buried deeper, she could just tell. And what’s more, for the first time in years, she felt like she could trust another person other than her family.

It was for that reason she found it so easy to almost, sort of, maybe, possibly accept his invitation.

“I might just hold you to that Sailor.”

**** Chapter 3