#just wanted to use this to clear the air for those not clued in

[cosmicflw3rr]

things we’ve never said.

dominik mysterio x fem!reader

summary: you and dom have been friends for as long as you can remember, but when he begins to distance himself from you, everything falls apart. will you crumble under the weight of it all and confess your true feelings to him?

A/N: I could not come up with a good title for thiss.. 😭 also this is my first time ever writing on here so lmk how you guys feel about itt.

you and dom have been close friends since you were young. growing up with parents in the WWE, you and him would hang out whenever your parents brought you to work.

throughout the years the two of you remained close, the both of you following in your parents footsteps and becoming wwe wrestlers. you and him becoming inseparable, since you got drafted to raw.

even though he was in the judgment day, and you were making a name for yourself, you always found a way to support and be there for each other.

as time passed, it hit you that dom was gradually drifting from you. the post-show hangouts you both used to have were replaced by solo nights in your hotel room, binging your favorite show.

and you traded in your late-night waffle house trips for early morning trips to the hotel gym, trying to clear your mind.

while the friendship you shared with dom started to fade, his connection with rhea only grew stronger, leaving you to deal with your thoughts.

you could feel yourself fading into the background, witnessing all the moments that once belonged to you and dom now being shared with her instead.

avoiding both of them had become your new routine, yet there was only so much you could do when your job meant crossing paths every week, making escape almost impossible.

but you held your own. there were times you’d run into dominik but you’d just ignore him and pretend you didn’t hear him.

you were doing your best to try and move on from the situation, but your attempts at ignoring reality only caused you pain.

when your paths would cross it was like your entire body was consumed in pain as you watched them be happy together even if it was just for a second.

you could try and hold yourself together all you want, but it felt like your heart was ripping apart every time you saw them.

you had been sitting backstage waiting for your time to go out to the ring, you had a match against becky lynch. you were just waiting for rhea to get done with her call out promo.

the air in the ring was tense from their ongoing feud, full of sharp words and taunts. you felt a twinge of nerves, not just for the match but because dom was always rhea's shadow, and tonight was no exception.

glancing at the screen, you saw rhea laying down her final words, with dom looming behind her like a puppy.

your leg instinctively started bouncing up and down, dreading the inevitable awkwardness that came with being anywhere near dom. It was just one of those things that made you wish you were anywhere else.

rhea's theme hit, and she strutted out of the ring, her and dom making their way backstage slowly, nibbling on your lip to find some calm. someone sat down in the seat next to you, but you were too wrapped up in your own head to notice.

a moment passed, then a familiar voice cut through, "hey, you okay?" you glanced over to find liv, a good friend of yours, looking at you with concern. you pulled yourself together and offered a small, convincing-enough smile.

“oh- yeah, I'm good," you responded, as much as you liked to think you had a good poker face you didn’t. and liv saw right through you.

"if its about the match don’t worry, you’ll kill it." she said slowly, a touch of uncertainty in her tone. "but something tells me that's not it."

releasing a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, you asked with a hint of humor, "Is it that obvious?" liv was clued in on everything; you two had become closer ever since you and dom stopped talking. she had become your ride-or-die.

she just shrugged and said, "no, I just know things." as you rolled your eyes with a smile. right then, a crew member gave the five-minute warning. you rose to get moving, but liv called out to you. "y/n/n."

turning to face her, "everything's gonna be okay." you gave her a soft smile and sent a playful kiss her way before heading to the curtains.

as you approached, rhea slipped through them holding her title over her shoulder without a glance your way. but when dom passed by, his gaze found yours.

In that quick moment, your heart skipped a beat, time seemed to stop, stretching the seconds out endlessly. a series of unspoken questions and unresolved issues hovered in the space between you two. that look between you two spoke more than words ever could.

it was the first direct eye contact you'd made with him in weeks. and just like that, it was over, the moment ending as quickly as it had arrived.

he passed by, his gaze leaving you and locking on rhea, and that strange, churning sensation in your belly returned. It was puzzling, a feeling you couldn't quite name.

suddenly, your theme rung out. you took a breath placing yourself in your confident persona, you’d walked out to the ramp beaming that confident grin with your arms wide, you soaked up the the cheers of the crowd washing over you like a wave.

you found yourself forgetting about everything, right now it wasn’t about you. it was about your fans. and one thing you weren’t going to do was let your personal life interfere with your job.

strutting down the ramp, you exchanged grins and nods with the fans, their excitement mirroring your own. slipping between the ropes, you blew the audience a kiss before sauntering to your designated corner.

crouching, anticipation tingling through you, you waited for the signal.

ding! ding! ding!

The bell's ringing sent your heart racing—it was go time. you and becky lunged at each other, each fighting for control, neither of you letting up.

becky dashed toward the ropes, bouncing off with momentum, but you were ready and landed a superkick right to her face. she stumbled backward, and you quickly went for the your finisher, a ripcord flatliner. as soon as becky’s body hit the mat you pushed her shoulders down and went for the cover.

1! 2! 3!

your music echoed throughout the arena, signaling the end of the match. shifting off becky, you settled onto your knees, a cocky grin spreading across your face as you swept your hair back, basking in the applause. a quick swipe of your tongue over your teeth, and you rose to your feet, ready to soak it all in.

the referee walked up next to you, lifting your right hand high, the crowd's cheers roaring louder. when your hand eventually lowered, you took a moment to look around at the cheering fans before making your exit backstage.

as the curtain fell behind you, liv was there, her voice lilting with enthusiasm. "you did amazing!" she chirped, the melody of her praise ringing in your ears.

you grin was wide, a mix of relief lighting up your face. "thanks," you replied with a shrug. "how about grabbing drinks later?" you asked.

liv's expression was priceless, her mouth agape before she shot you a look that screamed, 'Is that even a question?'

"hell yea we should. want me to invite sam and nat?" she bounced back, her enthusiasm infectious.

you gave a nod, the exhaustion of the night seeping into your voice. "I don’t mind.” you admitted, feeling exhausted. “I just really need a drink." you admitted.

liv wrapped you in a comforting hug, her hand soothing your back. "you've earned it," she whispered, pulling away only to hold your gaze. "i have to shoot a backstage promo now, so I'll catch you tonight, okay?"

with a nod, you exchanged goodbyes, each heading your separate ways. as you walked through the arena backstage to get to the locker room, the post-match adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

turning a corner you suddenly bumped into someone. you looked up to see dom, your heart picked up its pace. the two of you looking at each other, after a moment of no words and eye contact you had to get out of there.

you managed a strained smile, thoughts whirling as you sought an escape. "sorry," you mumbled, already sidestepping away.

but dom's hand clasped your forearm, halting you. you glanced from his eyes to where he touched you. his hold was gentle, yet insistent, something you hadn’t felt in a while. It almost felt foreign to you. "wait, we need to talk," he said firmly, his gaze digging deep for an answer you weren't prepared to give.

the air thickened with his words, an unspoken acknowledgment that whatever was going on between the two of you couldn’t be ignored forever

your expression hardened, as you withdrew your arm from his grasp. "not now dominik," you told him, abandoning the nickname you usually used when talking to him.

dom's face was a picture of tension, his jaw clenched tight. "then when?" he pressed, his words hitting you hard. "when's the right time gonna be? why have you been avoiding me?" you could hear the sincerity in his voice, the raw need for an answer lingering in the air.

the words hit you like a hurricane, leaving you momentarily frozen, brows knitted together. "don't pretend you care now," you spat out, the words sharper than intended, as you finally faced your tangled emotions head-on.

dom looked taken aback. "what are you talking about?" he retorted, his guard up.

"you've been distant for weeks, but obviously, you didn't notice because you're too wrapped up with rhea, right?"

"that's not true, I—"

your heart pounding as you locked eyes with dom. "no—I've been there for you through everything, and now you just push me away for them, for her," you said, the hurt in your voice unmistakable.

dom looked taken aback, his own anger subsiding as he realized the depth of your pain. "push you away? that's not what I'm trying to do," he protested, but you cut him off.

"but it’s exactly what you did! god I-" you looked away from him as your eyes filled with tears. you bit your lip hoping to stop. you didn’t feel like crying in front of him.

the tears overwhelmed you, there were far to much that you couldn’t hide it. as you blinked the tears escaped, you hastily wiped them. you looked at him. “you pushed me away and it hurt-“ you told him your voice breaking.

“y/n/n-” dom’s features softened, you looked around trying to avoid looking at his eyes.

"and I hate feeling this way, and I wish I didn’t care but I do. because I'm in love with you, dom. I have been for so long." your words hung heavy in the air, and your eyes welled up, the tears you'd fought to keep at bay now tracing hot paths down your cheeks. "this sort of thing was never meant to happen," you said your voice breaking, a sob catching in your throat.

dom's anger dissolved and his arms were around you in an instant. "hey, hey, don't cry, I hate it when you cry." your arms instinctively wrapped around him, as your tears fell silently.

the hug was a deep, tight one, like he was holding you as if you were the only thing keeping him standing. no words were spoken, but the tension in your body melted away as you leaned into him, his mere presence calming your racing heart.

the hug seemed to stretch on forever, dom's hand gently threading through your hair as you rested your head against his chest, tears falling silently.

eventually, he drew back, cupping your cheeks as he met your gaze with tenderness, brushing away your tears and moving your hair out of your face gently. he missed you. so god damn much.

"I—y/n/n..." dom's voice wavered as he looked into your eyes, his emotions laid bare for you to see.

after a moment of silence, he spoke softly. "i've been wanting to tell you... but was so afraid of losing you and messing things up. i just..."

"i..." he spoke up again but stopped himself mid-sentence. "i've been avoiding you... because of the way i feel. and i thought if i tried to hide it and put some distance between us, it would go away."

his eyes bore into yours, making sure you were taking in everything he was saying. "i was wrong." your heart seemed to stop, leaving you momentarily speechless as you struggled to find the right words.

"i'm in love with you," he said.

his words hung in the air, lingering in the space between the two of you. he continued, “i was an idiot, and i thought if i kept us away, i could just make these feelings go away. but when i finally had some time to actually think... i realized i've loved you all along, and I'm done pretending like we can just be friends."

"i've never looked at anyone else the way I look at you, y/n/n." he murmured, his touch gentle against your cheek. "being with you just feels so natural. i can't hide how i feel anymore. please," his voice quivered, the words barely making their way out, "let me make things right."

dom's hand gently cradled your jaw, tilting his head as he gazed into your eyes. "can I..." he started, his voice trailing off.

you nodded, your eyes flickering between his and his eyes and his lips. "yes."

his lips met yours in a tender kiss, the embrace deepening as you both became lost in the moment.

it was a moment you had yearned for, and as your hearts raced and time seemed to stand still, it felt like a dream come true.

dom pulled back after a moment, his lips trailing away from yours. you could tell he was still processing the moment, his breaths coming in quick and shallow spurts as he tried to regain his composure.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” his eyes studying you as he took in every detail.

you smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "me too." you admitted,

dom's eyes lit up at your confession, a grin spreading across his face. Without another word, he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, this one more confident and eager than the last. you melted into his embrace, feeling happiness wash over you.

dom rested his forehead against yours. "i don't want to wait any longer," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want to be with you, in every way possible."

your smile widened, every moment, every obstacle, had led you to this point, and in that moment, it all felt worth it. "that's all I've ever wanted too," you replied, your voice filled with emotion.

dom smiled and engulfed you in a warm hug, lifting you off the ground and twirling you around. your joyful squeal filled the air as he gently set you down, peppering kisses on your lips that made you smile. "let's grab some food, I'm starving," he suggested.

"of course you are," you teased, playfully rolling your eyes at his mock-offended expression. he shook his head, then wrapped his arm around your shoulder as the two of you started walking.

the two of you reached catering, you noticed liv and natalya at a table and subtly intertwined your hands with dom's. "um, i'll catch up with you in a sec?" you said, releasing his hand to approach the table.

taking a seat, liv and natalya exchanged knowing glances as they looked at you with anticipation. "hey, girlie," natalya greeted with a playful smirk. "i'm ready for those drinks tonight!" she added, with a little shimmy that made liv burst into laughter.

as the excitement filled the air, you hesitated before breaking the news. "about that..." the two women turned their heads to look at you, their expressions shifting to curiosity. "sooo, how about we rain check on the drinks tonight?" you suggested, catching liv's curious gaze as you awaited their response.

"why?" she inquired, prompting you to glance back at dom, who was already heading towards the table. bracing yourself, you sat back as he casually draped his arm over your chair.

turning your attention from him to liv and natalya, who looked utterly shocked, you nervously chuckled. "yeah," you admitted.

"i told you!" liv exclaimed loudly, laughing and sharing a glance with natalya. confusion lingered as you and dom exchanged looks before refocusing on the two women in front of you. natalya shook her head, putting her head in her hands. "I told you," she muttered.

liv sprang up, doing a little dance with a bright smile on her face. "did you guys bet on us?" you asked, a hint of amusement in your voice.

liv stopped her dance, still beaming. "nope, just might've challenged natalya on when you two would make up," she revealed.

you rolled your eyes, laughing. "of course you did." you guys began talking about the upcoming pay-per-view event. focused in the conversation, you felt a sudden warmth as dom's hand found yours under the table.

glancing down at your intertwined hands resting on his lap, you couldn't help but smile at the sweet gesture. despite the subtle display of affection, you decided to refocus on listening to liv and natalya.

this is exactly where you wanted to be.

[marypsue]

I must know about leabian apocalypse robot tony stark

[from this meme]

This document is an original story that's settled into the title of Le Morte d'Artificial Intelligence! The document title comes from the title of this one comix recap copperbadge did, a title which promised much about a comic which delivered exactly none of it. I picked up the idea of an artificially-intelligent android (well, gynoid, technically, if you want to get personal) masquerading as an irreverent, deeply ADHD inventor and titan of industry and moonlighting as a mechanised superhero, and ran with it.

And then, while I was developing a superteam (and a villain) for her to have an It's Complicated with, I realised that I couldn't set a story with superheroes in the UK and not drag King Arthur into it. And then a couple of other ideas that I had floating around without homes (an artificial lifeform in the shape of a human woman falls in love with a human woman, who then turns out to be a changeling; an extraordinarily self-indulgent never-to-see-the-light-of-day f!OC MCU fic) dovetailed beautifully into a plot to go along with this premise.

Have a sample:

If Elin hadn’t already known what was waiting for her at Piccadilly Circus, it would’ve been immediately obvious as soon as she flew within shouting distance. Even if the unnaturally brackish quality to the air composition, the subsonic hum, and the flood of fleeing people – and, strangely, chickens – hadn’t clued her in, the tentacles were visible even before the heaving, buckling remains of the plaza drew into view.

“Dammit,” Elin muttered, pulling up to leave the street farther below her. She remembered too well from the fight with Morgan – huge and cumbersome as they looked, those beasties moved fast. And their reach was always just a little longer than she’d calculated.

In seconds, she was hovering over the plaza, assessing the situation. Definitely not stalling, whatever Goldfinger might say. The plaza looked like it had cleared out, and people in black tactical gear stood around the barricades that uniformed police had started setting up around the perimeter. Though, as Elin passed over, she noticed a little knot of people in street clothes still huddled behind a double-decker bus at the far end. She also noticed that there was only one of Morgan’s horrorterrors this time. Thankfully, it looked like a small one. Well, a relatively small one. As horrorterrors went.

The rip it had made in the world was relatively small, too, but growing wider as the creature’s assortment of mismatched limbs forced their way through. As she passed above it, Elin caught a glimpse of a knot of eyes and teeth, roiling and gnashing somewhere far below what the actual street could allow. Maybe the creature was bigger than it looked, then. Probably a good idea to get that rift closed up before any more of it got through.

Elin took a moment to wonder about that, as she scanned the radio frequencies for the agent and Arthur’s comms. They’d assumed the beasties had needed Morgan to open the hole that had ripped open in the London Eye, and with good reason. But she’d been under lock and key at Elin’s apartment the whole time this rift would have been opening –

Elin filed the thought into a subfolder for later consideration. She’d just caught a sliver of MI5 chatter.

“Rook. Arthur.”

It was a moment before the agent’s voice crackled back. “Motherboard. This is meant to be a secure channel.”

Everything in Elin’s database said that the emotion the agent was barely suppressing was relief. If the Motherboard had a face, Elin would’ve put a smile on it. “Then maybe you should give me access so I don’t have to keep breaking in. What’s your six?”

“Please stop trying to use military jargon,” the agent said, sounding still just a little too relieved to really be as annoyed as she was pretending to be. “You’re terrible at it. Arthur’s on the monster, he could use air support. I’m clearing these idiots -” Her voice dissolved into a muffled argument, before cutting off entirely.

Elin didn’t wait. She swooped low over the creature, at an angle she knew would make the Motherboard’s silver casing flash in the sun, scanning the many eyes below her to see if any of them fixed on her. At the last moment, when it looked like she was going to smash straight into a rising claw, Elin kicked in the Motherboard’s thrusters and shot straight upwards, spiraling between two reaching tentacles so that they wound around each other. One sharp shove, and they toppled over, smashing into the wall of screens that wrapped around one of the buildings encircling the plaza. In what looked like slow motion, every single light in the screen burst, with a cascading shower of sparks and a sound like fireworks.

The tentacles that had caused the damage had already vanished, disappearing into insubstantial soap-bubble shimmers and popping on impact. But, even as Elin watched the carnage of an exploding Coke ad, in the corner of her visual field, another tentacle began to reform. One moment, it was nothing but a patch of empty air delineated by the way the falling sparks bounced off and around it. The next, it was a horribly fleshy appendage covered in downright obscene-looking suckers, as thick around as Elin was tall and moving way too fast for anything that bulky.

And it was shooting, at top speed, straight for the double-decker bus. And – Elin zoomed in to confirm what she realised she already knew – and the little knot of people who were still trapped behind it. Including the agent.

Elin dove down through the air towards the tentacle, checking the charge on her laser cannon. She’d only get one shot at it before it reached its target –

Something slammed into her back, knocking her somersaulting through the air. Sensors screamed, her internal gyroscope frantically recalibrating and recalibrating, until she smacked, hard, into the side of a building.

Diagnostics flashed past – right foot thrusters operating at 67% capacity, outer shell not yet breached but integrity compromised, battery drain increased significantly. Oh, and she was upside down and halfway through a stone wall. Another hit or two like that one would put her out, easy, before she even had a chance to shoot.

She’d have to pay more attention to all of the creature’s limbs. Its…apparently endless assortment of limbs. That seemed, in defiance of all known laws of physics, to be able to appear from and disappear into thin air.

“Cake,” Elin muttered to herself, wrenching one leg free from the masonry the monster’s blow had half-embedded her in. “Total cakewalk.” She had to engage thrusters briefly to get the other leg free, and, for two ominous seconds, went shooting at top speed towards the pavement below. Headfirst. “Absolute piece of -” Elin executed a neat midair flip, and caught herself with her feet hovering barely an inch above the asphalt. “- cake.”

“Hungry, Motherboard?” Arthur’s warm, genial voice echoed over the commlink. If the Motherboard had had eyes, Elin would’ve rolled them.

“Only for victory, your royal highness.” She scanned the plaza, shaking out her right foot until the thrusters clicked up to 98% capacity. Still not perfect, but at least she wouldn’t be flying in circles. A glance told her that the double-decker bus had vanished, but Arthur and his gleaming sword had joined the people who’d been hiding behind it. Clearly he’d gotten to the limb Elin had been too busy getting her ass kicked to take care of. “Or – wait, I don’t remember. Is that the one you’re only supposed to call princesses?”

“I’ll let you both eat cake once we’ve closed this portal,” the agent’s voice cut in, sharply. “Need I remind you I’ve still got three civilians, and now no cover.”

“Gotcha,” Elin said, leaping back into the air. She ducked under an enormous scorpion stinger and wove around a whiplike limb with a ball of spikes on one end, spotting the bright red of the double-decker bus clutched in a tentacle high overhead. “Be as annoying as possible.”

“Motherboard -” the agent started, sounding exasperated, but Elin muted the comm. She wasn’t interested in a lecture. She had a distraction to provide.

And the Motherboard, flashy and dramatic as she was, provided such good distractions.

[systemadministratorclu]

Clu nodded in agreement.

"Yes, they are. And we're about to rezz in the first Program who will come into existence under them."

Soon their destination came into view. Clu had been right. No lightcycle could ever reach the place surrounded by a ring of incredibly high peaks, and between these, rocky walls that went straight up. Only by finding the right wind current (and likely by the Grid allowing them entry) did they clear these walls and not crash into the peaks.

On the other side, the dropped below the tops of the walls and the air became calm and quiet. Snow covered the valley floor as they descended further down, but it was packed tightly enough, and had enough ice in it that they could safely land and get off the jet.

"We're almost there." Clu said. He approached an opening that had not been visible from the air and that would be missed if Clu hadn't been looking for it.

"The Mirror is this way. Deep under the mountains. Don't worry, Tron. We won't need lights. Just follow me and you'll see why."

----------

"Ah, it's like a tactical stealth exercise. Okay, let's go and see how good the two of us are then."

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

"A-are you sure? I mean......I don't know if those memories are even accurate." Hal said, "Maybe they changed and didn't want me anymore. Or maybe I did something to them.......They may not even be alive. O-or if they are.......maybe they don't want me back." Hal sighed and picked up his datapad again.

"But......I guess it couldn't hurt. Who knows, it might reveal something important we need to know about how I work on this system."

🔪 (for Clu - it's fake!)

"Act scared - there's an Occupation patrol less than a block away, I'm using a chromatic distorter to hide our circuits so we're less distinctive but neither of us wants them to catch on so for sparks' sake play along! What are you even doing here, anyway!" - Eve, System Resource Allocation Monitor

"What the-Who the frag even ARE you and what do you want with me!?" He didn't need to act, he actually was scared.

[desidarling123]

Alright, I'm a little bit new, but listen... I'm a wolfstar stan and I don't see a real reason for this particular drama flare up. First of all, I don't like remadora and I doubt I ever will, but that's personal preference and I don't think the wolfstar fandom thinks there's anything wrong with the remadora fandom. With the reblogs on both sides, it looks like wolfstar fans think remadora fans are accusing wolfstar of being problematic, toxic, and/or abusive, inherently (I don't know the history behind you and op and I'm going to stay out of that as well but I'm talking about the fandom to fandom accusations). And remadora fans think wolfstar fans are accusing them of being homophobic because they don't ship wolfstar? That's not true, like I said, that's personal preference and I agree with what you said about nuance. The homophobic thing is in the context of accusing wolfstar of being problematic. To clarify, it's not that if you don't ship wolfstar you're homophobic, it's that if you think it's problematic while NOT thinking remadora is problematic (because, again, nuance) then that seems pretty homophobic. Anyway, I don't know. Maybe the fandoms just want a reason to be mad at each other and this isn't helping but I just wanted to clarify anyway.

You’re fine, and thank you for hopping into my inbox! Let me smooth the waters as bit -- us folks on the Remadora side are well aware that there are loads of issues with our ship, too (thx 4 nothing, JKR). We talk about it a lot within our community, and I think a healthy amount of critique is something everyone should be open to. 

What’s not been OK (and what I sort of jumped down OP’s throat for, which I understand, to unassuming onlookers would have been very !!!!) has been a recent flouting of what I would call traditional rules of engagement in fandom -- if you dislike something, tag it anti-X, and don’t cross-tag where someone who DOES like the ship might see it. 

Instead, as of late, the Remadora tag here and elsewhere has been FLOODED with accusations of homophobia (fully baseless, as you said) along with loads of general negativity from folks who do not know anything about us or why we enjoy the ship. People who are NOT a part of our community have felt entitled to entering our spaces and harassing us over what we like. 

The point of irritation (that led to the post OP talked about) is that the relentless attacks on our ship have come ALONGSIDE claims that Wolfstar is 100% unproblematic, or a “better alternative”. This feels unfair -- whatever your personal preference, painting one ship as strictly Bad and one as strictly Good is preposterous on face. It also puts us on the defensive -- yet again -- and so of course the counter has been to say, well, if we’re so Bad, what about This Thing About Wolfstar? Or This? (The kicker here being that we STILL manage to tag our critiques appropriately, even if that respect has largely not been returned to us)

It’s not enough for people to not like or be indifferent towards our ship -- instead, some folks have become hell-bent on proving that Remadora is the Beacon of All Things Wrong with fandom. Which is, frankly, exhausting.

OP has been part of that deluge of negativity -- their contribution was a meme  that deliberately misstated the facts of a real case, and spurred further attacks and accusations of homophobia towards our fandom. There’s been other accusations, too, but the homophobia one has struck a personal chord because so many of us ARE, in fact, queer.

They’ve also engaged on a personal and extremely rude level with many of my mutuals (the ‘cyberbullies remadora stans’ in their bio is a nice touch), so when I saw the post on my dash I did get angry. I got angry, because I looked into the very serious accusations his post made, accusations that had made so many of us feel guilty over something (a supposed lawsuit from Hers Truly) that we couldn’t have possibly had any control over -- only to find out they were all bunk, and clearly written to spur more hatred between the two sides.

Also, before I end, I’d just like to clarify: 

I was being snarky in comments to snipe at OP directly, but I have nothing personal against Wolfstar. (I actually have grown to like it quite a bit, despite other drama.) Nor do I think a ship needs to be canon for you to enjoy it -- that’s the whole fun of fandom, of filling in the gaps. Who cares what a renowned TERF has to say about it? Every iteration of these characters and pairings has a right to exist without backlash. You can enjoy Wolfstar and I can enjoy Remadora and we can all stick our🖕 at JKR, because I think both communities have been critical enough of her work and motivations to have reclaimed the ships -- problems and all -- on our own terms.

Anyways! Sorry for such a long post, and thanks for being so polite about it. I hope this clarifies some things from our POV. 

[vln-vibes]

The Good Ol’ Switcheroo

GUYS

GUYS

GUYS

I know there’s fics out there with switcheroo hijinks with Tim and Danny but imagine this---

Jazz and Babs

and

Danny and Tim

But like at the same time

So the Fentons are visiting Gotham, the reason why is a bit up in the air;

Jazz wants to visit the Gotham U campus, the Fentons have a meeting with W.E for a business deal (they’re sus about the whole ghost hunting thing but it doesn’t hurt to scope out what they’re capable of) or maybe they’re hunting down Batman because they’re sure he’s a ghost. Reader’s choice tbh.

Unfortunately Jazz sprained her ankle the week before while ghost hunting with Team Fenton. This also led to her parents coddling her and she just barely managed to convince them to still go on their trip as a way to get Danny a vacation.  The only caveat; they force her on a wheelchair for the duration of the trip.

Spring forward to a random Thursday afternoon during their vacation; Danny and Jazz were dying of embarrassment (in his case re-dying) with their parents antics. They didn’t think Gothamites would blatantly stare at them all things considered but even they had their standards they guess.

Danny bought himself some sunglasses and a coffee while Jazz just put on her reading glasses and just tried to bury herself in her new Spoiler themed sweater.

Of course that’s when the chaos started.

It was just their luck that just as they finally got away from their parents that a rogue finally attacked; where there was a rogue the Batman wouldn’t be too far behind.

Danny’s plan was just to hide in a random alleyway or wait until the coast was clear to use his powers and fly them back to their hotel room and wait for everything to die (hah) back down. That’s not what ended up happening.

“There you guys are, c’mon time to suit up”

The duo are too stunned to do anything as they’re dragged off by this random rich guy (Bruce Wayne) and into a really expensive and familiar looking car (the Batmobile). The door folds open and Jazz’s wheelchair is fastened in seconds, Danny just kinda goes to sit next to her (can’t let his sister be kidnapped by herself). 

There’s a guy sitting shotgun next to the original alley guy. He’s wearing a mask. Oh shit its Nightwing.

“Looks like Freeze is at it again, Uptown’s already halfway covered in ice. No time to waste Red Robin”

Red Robin? Like the food chain??

In those few seconds the Batmobile is speeding off, the alley guy is now the Batman and they’re passing a speeding RV going the other way. Cue that one Umbrella Academy meme but its Tim and Babs staring back at Danny and Jazz.

A compartment opens up revealing Red Robin’s suit with the cowl. 

‘Why the hell not? It’s not like it’ll kill me’ is all Danny thinks while he puts on the outfit, ditching the cowl tho because it looks ugly and instead grabs one of ‘Robin’s’ extra masks that were next to it. He took a selfie and sent it to Sam and Tucker, one also featuring a Done looking Jazz.

“You got that RR?”

“Hn yeah sure”

It isn’t until halfway through their fight with Mr.Freeze, not even noticing how the usually chilly Tim doesn’t look the slightest bit cold, when they meet up with Black Bat that any of them are clued in to what happened.

“Not Red Robin. New brother?”

“What are you talking about Cass, he’s right there?”

Cue to Danny using Tim’s bo staff to propel himself and air kick Mr.Freeze’s helmet.

“Ice to meet you frosty!”

“Yeah no. Our parents may be nuts but we’re not open for adoption” Jazz quips from the comms, strangely not too different from the system Tucker uses when they out hunting for ghosts.

“Wait I thought you were just recovering from the cold!?”

“Twisted ankle actually. On your five!”

Meanwhile Jack and Maddie got a ecto signature at the other side of town. They spotted Danny and Jazz leaving the library, grabbed them (not noticing the yelling crowds running the other way). 

They let the GAV fasten the kids in before speeding off to catch the ghost.

In his defense Tim was working on one hour of sleep in the last 48 hours and Bab’s lost her voice from her cold. In all the ensuing chaos Babs dropped her phone and Tim’s just ran out of juice.

They’d thought it was a Standard Wayne and Co Kidnapping until the duo in hazmat suits kept referring to them as Jazz and Dann-o. Hopefully not insane and trying to fake being a family. Hopefully

They take a turn into Crime Alley and the duo look at each other as they see the GPS head towards one of Red Hood’s places.

This would be good

[fermented-writers-block]

PART 1 of 6 of the Owl Deity Hooty Theory

[NEXT PART]

[OWL DEITY HOOTY THEORY MASTERPOST] (in development)

(TLDR at bottom of post)

Over several long months of research and analysis since March of 2020, I have been following an utterly fascinating thread of potential misdirection and subtle details throughout The Owl House, and today, I would like to start weaving together of what I believe could become one of the biggest and most cleverly disguised twists in the entire show.

To begin, let’s take a look at the B plot of Understanding Willow:

On first glance, it’s an ultimately inconsequential sidestory with the sole purpose of justifying an excuse to keep Luz and Amity in Willow’s mind, as well as providing some well-needed room to breathe and release tension after the veryemotionally charged confrontation with Inner Willow. After half an episode of Eda and King outdoing the other in ridiculous ways to win Gus’ vote and Gus running off in frustration at the end of the episode from Hooty’s inane rambling, it’s easy to laugh off Gus’ pick and assume that nothing/of value was said when he closed the door for the interview.

However, if one pays close attention to that very scene, Hooty actually canstill be heard (if faintly) underneath Eda and King’s grumbling, interestingly talking about how “It all started with a hunt. Blood red skies. That’s right, I was created-.”

Now, while it may seem silly to focus on dialogue from Hooty of all characters, this A) tells us that there was an event in the past involving blood red skies and a hunt of some kind, B) that Hooty had been created close to said event, and C) implies that what he knows but can’t tell as a story worth a damn is EXTREMELY important to be included and be hidden in such a manner.

For comparison, the only other instance of dialogue being tucked away in the background in the entire show is in Wing It Like Witches:

During the lecture at the beginning of the episode, the history teacher openswith lore on Belos appointing a head witch to each coven over 50 years ago, immediately cluing in the audience to try and decipher the rest of the lecture as it moves to the background. Adding to this is how the musical sting when Luz shows off her movie obscures what he says even further, making it even more of a intriguing puzzle that the creators clearly intended for viewers to pick up on and attempt to solve.

In contrast, the hidden dialogue of Hooty’s interview is much shorter and not as hard to decipher as the teacher’s history lesson, but at the same time, there are few to no indicators whatsoever in that scene to clue in the audience to even check for something like that. It comes at the end of an episode where most viewers would have been paradoxically tired out and driven abuzz by the revelations of Amity and Willow’s relationship, doesn’t attempt to draw much attention to itself, and frames itself as a comedic subversion of audience expectations with neither the “greatest witch who ever lived” or the self-proclaimed king of demons being picked by Gus.

Instead, he picks someone that the show portrays constantly as an oblivious and gullible idiot after being described as a “state of the art defense system” at the very beginning of the series. Someone who, despite it being played for laughs, is scarily capable of casually subduing Lilith offscreen one episode and then beating her and an entire squad of Emperor’s Coven members without even the slightest change in personality or temperament.

Someone who, due to being the Owl House itself, could be considered the titular character of the entire show, yet is taken for granted by those who inhabit him and barely gets any respect from even the cutely patronized King - including when Hooty could be interpreted as having potentially been full on DEAD for a time given the use of extremely cartoony X eyes and a lack of vital signs in The Intruder.

And someone who Eda at best tolerates and at worst abandons in personal interactions and only occasionally acknowledges him when he’s actually doing his job. Yet at the same time is so implicitly trusted beyondprotecting her home to the point where - when up against the closest person Eda has to an equal outside of likely Belos - the only actually recognizable spells Eda used in combat were 1) stereotypical energy blasts, 2) a single shield spell in Covention, and 3) a noticeably large reliance on imitations of Hooty above any other spells she could have decided to use instead.

In short, the show repeatedly tells us he is just an idiotic gag character through and through, but at the same time demonstrates he has immense power through both onscreen and offscreen demonstrations, implicitly tells us his importance ahead of time through Eda’s imitations in actually serious situations, and treats his interview and origin story as - if not even more- important to keep secret than a long lore dump about how Belos’ reign works.

After all, there being only two instances of hidden background dialogue in the entire season is already intriguing on its own, but for one to get plenty of clues to draw in people’s attention and for the other to be treated as just another gag about a “mere comic relief character” - aka a good way to draw away attention and lower one’s guard - heavily suggests a far deeper significance buried under layers of misdirection, comedy, and conditioned audience expectations.

I mean, when Eda bragged about being “a bad girl living in a secret fortress,” Hooty followed with a remark about how “I’m the secret.” While that line may sound like Hooty simply being confused as part of a one-off on the surface, it’s an odd dialogue choice for the writers to pick when you think about all the other reminders of his nature as the house itself throughout the season. With the precedent these moments set, it would have been much more appropriate for him to latch onto the “fortress” side of “secret fortress” AND it would have been just as equally funny of a joke about his awareness skills, but instead, Hooty broke away from the established trend to say something that would make people suspicious were it to come from anyone else.

In a way, this reminds me much of the many subtle bits of foreshadowing strewn across the show, like Luz unknowingly describing Amity in Witches Before Wizards and Eda burning a hole through Luz’s coven type quiz that coincidentally selected the same track she had taken at Hexside as “a punky potionist.” At the time of airing, these initially seemed like one-off jokes, but eventually came back in full force several episodes later with Amity’s hidden sensitive feelings and love for the Azura books becoming clear in Lost in Language, and the reveal of Eda’s school track in Something Ventured, Someone Framed with her school misdemeanor pictures.

That said, compared to these individual bits of minor foreshadowing, the jokes about Hooty in Understanding Willow appear to simply be the most obvious pieces in a giant puzzle, implicitly and outright telling attentive viewers that there’s a major mystery to be uncovered here.

In fact, I feel bold enough to say that we could be looking at a twist on a similar scale to that of the Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz and Stanford Pines twists in Steven Universe and Gravity Falls respectively, what with this particular puzzle piece coming from how Gus wanted to make THE greatest interview of all time, and how he was looking for someone who was “interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy:”

Note the emphasis on the ‘and’ here, as Gus had made a big deal that “people aren’t meantto be all those things” at the beginning of the episode, so as a result, stripping away all the comedic framing of his subplot leaves the intriguing implication that whoever - and, perhaps, what- Hooty is, they really are the most interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy person out of everyone.

I could go further and talk about why I suspect the mystery surrounding King’s origins, whether true or not, is partially meant to misdirect us from paying attention to Hooty, or how the TOH crew’s could be disguising legitimate clues to his nature among made up and highly meme-able joke answers in order to proliferate said concepts throughout the fandom - thus letting us do all the dirty work of getting ourselves used to the ideas and used to dismissing them at the same time - but to bring things to a close for now, I’d like to leave you all with a question that I’ll start answering next time:

What does it mean when both the most powerful and notorious witch on the Boiling Isles and the possible actual king of demons/the Titan itself/something don’t match up to a house? And what do you think it is that makes him so special to warrant such misdirection?

TLDR: Between Eda’s golem spells, the show stressing his nature as the titular house, his implicit strength, and the odd dialogue and structure of Understanding Willow‘s subplot in relation to him, I believe I have good reason to suspect the show has been giving us many hints towards Hooty being much, much more important than it would like us to currently believe or even joke about. Particularly, through clever uses of comedy to establish and enforce a strong audience bias against looking closely at him or unironically taking him seriously, and to potentially plant the seeds for something I will start exploring in Part 2.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Ignorance Is Blitzed (Part 7)

Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initially thought.

Warnings: SMUT! YA GIRL FINALLY WROTE THE SMUT!, light angst, fluff, SMUT, Ron is a dom but he’s so into you he turns into a soft!dom, Reader is a mess, Ron is a tease, SMUT!

~

~ ~ ~ ~

Lewis Nixon was a dead man.

Even if Ron’s sudden (if not minute) PDA hadn’t clued you in to the fact that someone had told him about Nuremberg, the look of fear in Lewis’s eyes when you’d caught his gaze basically confirmed it.

 You’d mumbled something about getting some air to Ron as you watched Lewis hightail it out of there, hot on his heels as he tried to escape the wrath that you were sure showed plainly on your face.

He doesn’t get far.

 When you catch his elbow in what seemed to be the hotel staff’s dining room, he whines like a wounded animal and holds his hands up pleadingly.

 “I swear to God I, thought you’d told him already—”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Nix scoffed at that, despite the fear clearly paling his face.

“Okay, one- people were going to find out eventually. Two? How in the hell was i supposed to know that you hadn’t told your boyfriend—”

 “Not my boyfriend—”

 “—yes he is your boyfriend- about it? And three: and he doesn’t even seem to be mad about it!”

 You scoff at that, hands going to your hips as you stare at him in disbelief.

 “It wasn’t something for you to tell- if the news that I was being asked to go in hadn’t come from you in the first place, I’d never have told you either! No one was supposed to know—!”

 “What were you going to do, just dump him and disappear?!”

 Your rebuttal sticks in your throat, guilt flooding through your veins at the bluntness of his question.

It must show on your face, because Lewis furrows his brows and looks at you in disbelief.

 “No… Y/N, you aren’t seriously trying to tell me that you—?”

 “I was giving him a clean break. I am giving him a clean break.”

 You’d made the decision after you’d heard about Ron’s decision to stay with Easy and go to Japan, when you’d realized that neither of you were going to be going home anytime soon. 

In Ron’s case, he may not come home at all- and if you knew him as well as you thought you did, you knew what that would mean for the two of you. 

Hollow promises to keep in touch, followed by equally well-intentioned agreements to find the other when it all was over, both of you ultimately knowing in your heart of hearts that those commitments would inevitably fizzle out and die the moment the going got tough.

 You didn’t want that, didn’t want to trap Ron in something that was destined to fail from the get-go.

As much as he liked you, cared for you, you also knew who he was. What he would always be.

A ruthless, brilliant soldier, ready to lay it all on the line at the first opportunity. And you loved him too much to ever ask him to be anything else.

 He deserved to find happiness- even if it wasn’t with you.

 Nix looked at you pityingly, a forlorn look on his face as he digested what you’d said.

 “Look, I don’t know the guy well,” he mumbled, clearing his throat and taking a step towards you to rest a hand on your tense shoulder. “But anyone with eyes can see that you mean a lot to him.”

 You nod and offer him a tight smile, eyes drifting downward to avoid letting any potential tears come to the surface. “I know I do- I don’t doubt that. It’s not about how things are right now, though. We don’t get to live in the right now for much longer.”

 The hand on your shoulder squeezes at the muscle there, a small sound of admonishment escaping under Lew’s breath as you feel him watch you. He doesn’t like what you’re saying- you can tell that he wants to argue that you’re being ridiculous.

 But even he knows that it wouldn’t be of any use. It wouldn’t change your mind.

 “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here, Y/N. I’d bet if the others knew, they wouldn’t like it much either.”

 You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek as you look back up at him and nod. “Guess I’m breaking up with all of you, aren’t I?”

 Nixon’s eyes are shining, and you wonder if he’d be this upset if he were 100% sober. When you step into him to embrace him, he beats you to the punch and wraps his arms around you quickly, taking a deep breath that seems to make his chest expand to twice his size.

 “I suppose you’re right. Not that being dumped ever stopped me before,” he gives you a sad smile when he eventually releases you, giving your shoulder a final pat before taking his hands away. 

“Don’t be surprised when I show up at your window, drunk as a skunk and proclaiming my undying love for you at 3 am sometime in the near future.”

 As you open your mouth to reply, you see Nix’s focus flick to something past your shoulder.

Even if you hadn’t seen the fear on the man’s face, you still would’ve known that it was Ron.

 Because of course it would be him. 

 Gritting your teeth, you sigh and close your eyes. Dread tasted sour on your tongue as you turned your head to peer over your shoulder, flinching at the look of silent fury marring his handsome face. Sniffing, you force yourself to speak despite the tightness clenching at your throat.

 “You should go, Lew,” you say quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 Lewis says nothing as you turn around to face Ron, the sound of his retreating footsteps barely registering in your ears as anxiety sends blood thrumming loudly in your ears. Ron’s sharp eyes make you feel impossibly small, and you think you can now understand what everyone else had been talking about for the past few years. Ron was scary. You did feel scared.

 “You and I need to get some things straightened out.”

 His words are clipped, and if he sees you flinch at the tone in his voice he doesn’t show it. You inhale shakily, realizing you had been holding your breath for too long and wetting your lips as you searched for the right words to say.

 Just as you open your mouth to speak, Ron turns on his heel and begins to stride off, and once you are able to unstick the soles of your shoes from the floor you trail after him cautiously. When you reach the doorway, you see that he’s stopped a few paces from the door frame, waiting. In a move that surprises you, he uncurls his hand from the fist it had been in and holds it out to you, eyes heavy and dark and trained on you.

 Quickly, you flicker your eyes between his face and his hand, only stepping forward and taking it after you’ve mustered up enough confidence that it wasn’t going to be something you regretted doing. You’d never had someone mad at you like this before, at least not for as intimate a reason as he was now. Of course, you’d never allowed yourself to care for someone like this before either- maybe this mortifying combination of guilt and heartbreak was normal.

 The moment your hand finds his, he turns away from you and starts walking again, and as you follow you realize that he’s leading you towards the room you both share. There's no softness in the way his hand holds yours, the grip firm and unyielding. It almost makes you feel like a child being pulled off for a private scolding from a parent.

You hate it.

 The journey to your room is both too long and not nearly long enough, and it’s only when he opens the door and releases your hand that you fear that you may never get the chance to feel his touch ever again. That reality was already one you’d been dreading, with him leaving so soon to go where you could not follow. The thought of that time coming sooner because of something like this was devastating.

 You stand in front of the door once it closes, ready to have him ask you to leave at a moment’s notice. Unblinking, you watch him shirk off his jacket and toss it on a nearby chair, shrugging the suspenders down from his shoulders with a spark of agitation. His hair has begun to fall into disarray, and the idea of him hating you while looking so unfairly handsome makes your heart tighten painfully in your chest. 

Unwilling to wait out the inevitable for a moment longer, you clear your throat at steel yourself.

 “Ron-”

 “You don’t get to hide that kind of shit from me.”

 He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his voice quiet and uncomfortably devoid of emotion. As he walks over to the table that held a decanter of whiskey and fine crystal glasses to pour a drink, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear and try again

 “I was just trying to give—”

 “—give me a 'clean break', yeah. I heard.”

 Bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip, you watch as he clenches his jaw and swallows.

“Did you ever think about asking me what I wanted?“

 That does throw you, and as he sets the glass down and turns to look at you you make no move to hide the look of confusion on your face. Glancing down at your shoes, you shake your head softly and try and find your voice once more

 “I- but you don’t want this. You don’t want to be tied down—”

 “And what makes you so confident that you know what I want, huh?” 

There's clear anger in his voice now, and you look up just in time to watch him walk over to you. You straighten as he comes to a stop right before you, hands braced on his hips as he all but glowers down at you. 

 “You don’t get to make those sort of decisions for me- got it?”

He emphasizes the bite on the ‘t’ in ‘it’, the puff of air from his breath hitting your face. 

 When you make to turn away from him, one of his hands flashes up to grip your jaw- his touch gentle but authoritative enough that you know it’d be a bad idea to go against it.  Something about the movement irks you, makes your heart beat faster from something much darker than fear or dread. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you tilt your head back infinitesimally. Defiantly. 

 Ron notices, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Last time I checked, you aren’t a mind reader- and even if you were, you’d be a shit one because if you think what I want is anything other than you, you really don’t know me at all.”

 “Stop it, Ron,” you mutter quietly, watching as his eyes flicker down to your mouth before dragging back up to meet your eyes again. “You’re being mean.”

 He exhales sharply at that, a ghost of a rueful smile quirking his mouth before shaking his head. 

“Am I?”

 When you roll your eyes, he steps into you even more, using his hold on your jaw to tilt your head back further so you are still able to hold his glare.

 “Like it or not, Y/N, you’re it for me- you got that? If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine- but know that I’d tear this whole entire goddamned continent apart if you wanted me to—”

 “Why!?” you snap, his declaration bringing forth the sadness you’d managed to temporarily quell. 

 At the sight of tears refilling your eyes, Ron’s brows furrow and some of the darkness leaves his face. Shaking your head imploringly, you bring a hand up to circle his wrist. 

 “You could do anything, be anywhere with anyone you wanted! We….we’re just children, Ronald- and I love you but I’d never delude myself into pretending that I know the first thing about how to do this- any of this!”

You bring your other hand up to rest lightly on his chest, lowering your gaze to look at the slight tremble of your fingers as you do so. 

 “You were born for greatness, born to lead and fight and conquer….but all I was born to do was just exist for other people- like my parents or my family or whoever else needed something from me. Then, eventually, become somebody’s wife and give him a family. But….. I threw away any chance of that future in order to be here, and now that this is ending I have no idea what I’m supposed to do!”

 Swallowing in a vain attempt to keep your voice from breaking, you look back up at him, offering him a small, shaky smile.

“I won’t drag you down that mess with me, you deserve more than that- than me. I won’t ruin you, too—”

 “Y/N,” Ron murmurs admonishingly.

 “What?!”

 With an ease that you two had only just begun to establish, he seals his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up and forcing you to take the first deep breath you’d taken in a long time. There’s an edge of desperation to it- just as there had been in your first kiss back all those months ago in Foy. 

 Only this time his lips taste like whiskey and something a tinge more wicked. 

A promise of more.

 Breaking the kiss but keeping his face close you yours, Ron brings his other hand up to cup your face. Brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, he eyes you softly.

 “Don’t tell me what I deserve.” 

Kiss.

“Stop telling me what to do.” 

Kiss 

“Let me conquer.”

 This kiss is filthy, his lips plush and confident and unafraid in their mission to leave you completely mindless. Ron has stepped so close to you that your head has tilted all the way back into his hands, his fingers purposefully twisting in your roots so he has more control over the kiss.

 Despite the fact that he’s never handled you this way before- you have no desire to ask him to slow down or be gentler.

You like it. You want more.

 When you whimper into his mouth, you can feel him grin briefly before sliding one hand down your back to fist at the material of your shirt and bunching it free from where it had been tucked into the back of your pants. 

 Up until now, Ron had been nothing but gentle when it came to you- and while you knew him to be dominant and ruthless in battle you’d considered what his temperament would be like as a lover. Clearly, the confidence translated. 

 You slide the hand that had been on his chest up and around his shoulders, your elbow hooking around his neck and pulling him closer. As you nip at his bottom lip, Ron hums low in his chest. The hand he’d had on the small of your back has moved down to grip at your ass, and with a quick peck he pulls back slightly.

 “Hold on,” he grumbles, and just as you open your mouth to ask for clarification Ron wraps his arms around your hips and lifts you so you’re having to lean into him, your feet stumbling across the floor as he turns you both and quickly walks the both of you to the bed. 

 He’s barely set you down before his hands find the hem of your blouse again, rucking it up your sides before your brain catches up with him and you tear it over your head. Your skin feels hot, and it feels even hotter at the feeling of Ron’s lips mouthing at the tops of your breasts as you fumble with the clasp of your bra.

 “Shit,” you hear yourself curse, hating your fingers for being so uncoordinated. Undeterred by the fabric of the bra you’d pinched from one of the homes the lot of you had been asked to secure a week ago, Ron bites softly at your nipples until they stiffen. When you finally unhook the fastenings, he pulls the cups of the bra down easily and continues his attentions.

 You curse again, head swimming at the realization that his own fingers have found the zipper of your pants and begun to pull it down. Carding your hands through his hair, you desperately try and calm your breathing while distantly realizing that he’s still fully clothed.

 “Ron,” you gasp, looking down your chest and meeting his bright eyes as he sucks marks down the valley between your breasts. “I wanna see you—”

 His hum is dark as he mockingly tilts his head at you, successfully pulling the fabric of your trousers down your hips until gravity takes over and it all pools at your feet.

 “You are seeing me,” he insists quietly, trailing his blunt fingernails down your hips until they catch your underwear and shucking them down your legs as well. When you frown he bites some of the skin just under your left breast, chuckling wickedly at the squeak of surprise you’re unable to hide.

 “Take your shirt off!” you nearly whine, your head falling back as he laves at the bite with his tongue. “You’re not being- shit….you’re being unfair—!”

 “Then do something about it.”

 You do whine at that, too frustrated to worry about being gentle as you take your hands from his hair to claw at his shirt- bunching and pulling at the fabric covering his back until you manage to get enough in your fists to pull it gracelessly over his head. Pure want has boiled your blood like a fever, with the only two thoughts in your mind being more more more and faster faster faster.

 Before you can work his shirt any further down his arms, he shoves you back unceremoniously onto the bed, quick to pull your hips to the edge of the bed before bothering to continue undressing himself. 

With a nearly comical desperation, you toe off your shoes, licking your dry lips as you watch the muscles of his torso bunch and lengthen as he strips the remainder of his clothing off- his eyes on you the entire time and his gaze doing nothing to calm the heaving of your chest.

 “Christ, look at you,” he says quietly, a clear note of pride in his voice. “Too pretty for your own good, aren’t you?”

 You blush at that, swallowing audibly at the praise and squeezing your eyes shut.

It all just was so much….

 When you open your eyes again, you moan at the sight of him kneeling before you and pulling at your legs until they were over his shoulders. As you start to sit up you are pushed back down again by his hand on your chest, the feeling of his breath on your sex robbing you of any speech capabilities you had previously possessed.

 “Just like that,” he commands gently. “Stay just like that.”

 Maybe it was because it had been a while since you’d had any sort of sexual intimacy with another person, or perhaps it had more to do with the fact that your previous sexual partners hadn’t been particularly invested in the act, but one thing was for certain:

 Ron Speirs was unfathomably good at cunnilingus.

 You could only gape stupidly at the ceiling with your mouth open in a silent scream of overwhelm as he took your clit between his lips and absolutely ruined you- his tongue and teeth and fingers tearing you away from reality with a nearly cruel proficiency. It was almost humiliating how effectively he dismantled your already tenuous sense of composure, and if you had any sense of pride left you probably would’ve hated him for it.

 He was making a mess of you, and he was doing it too easily.

 Feeling a sheen of sweat glisten your skin, you can only hold onto him as your body trembles- and it’s all you can do to keep your hips on the bed as your back arches and your body rocks.

 “Ron, please….I’m gonna cum—” you hear yourself choke out in warning, squeezing your eyes shut as something burning hot and sugar-sweet builds deliciously in your lower belly

 “Oh yeah?” you feel him ask, one of his arms hooking around your hips to help still you. “Want to bet?”

 Your eyes flash open

“What—?!”

 You nearly howl in fury when he takes his mouth away, instantly sitting up to watch in betrayed dismay as he curls two fingers inside of you and adds a new kind of stimulation- one that keeps you on that cruel precipice without offering you any sort of relief.

 He smirks up at you, and any affection you’d previously held for him is jeopardized by his clear mirth at the situation. 

 “Sorry, Sweetheart,” Ron says lowly, nothing in his voice conveying any sort of remorse. “But you don’t get to call the shots right now.”

 You open and close your mouth desperately, unable to decide which sort of response would get you what you wanted. A frustrated shriek slips out in the interim, and when his smile broadens you remove your hands from his hair and smack at his head.

 “Jesus Christ, Ron! What’s the matter with you—?!”

 “Do you have any idea how good you taste, Y/N?” He continues as if you hadn’t spoken at all, ducking down to place a greedy kiss to your sex before pulling back again. “To think you were going to have me leave without letting me get my mouth on the source….absolutely heartless—”

 “I get it, okay? Fuck Ron! What more do you want me to do?” 

 You wince at the addition to a third finger inside of you, the stretch adding the tiniest bit of ache to your horribly prolonged almost-orgasm. The forearm across your hips holds you down when you try to squirm in any direction in hopes of getting some more stimulation.

 “Apologize.”

 You widen your eyes at him, a scowl on your face as you look down your panting chest at him. “What?”

 Like the cruel bastard he is, Ron shrugs as if the solution to all of this has been obvious the whole time.

“Say you’re sorry, and I’ll make it all better.”

 Shaking your head, you hear yourself scoff. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 You yelp as he turns his head to bite your thigh, fisting a handful of his hair to pull him away.

 Smoothing the flat of his tongue over the bite, he closes his eyes wistfully and sighs.

 “Close, but that’s not what I want to hear,” Ron says before tilting his head and looking back up at you, the tendons in his forearm pronounced as his fingers tirelessly continue their strokes inside of you.  

“Say it. Say ‘Ron, I’m sorry.”

 Biting the insides of your cheeks, you fix him with a glare and sigh with frustration.

“Fine! I’m sorry, okay? I’m really fucking sorry, Ron!”

 He purses his lips, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. You whimper as he slides his fingers out from inside you, but before you can think yourself victorious Ron uses those fingers to start rolling your clit- still keeping you on the edge while giving you just a hint of what you needed.

 “Goddamnit, RONALD—!”

 “Tell me that you deserve me,” he demands, his words taking on a gravelly tone. As you search his eyes, you see a heartbreaking shine of sincerity staring back at you.  “Say it and then I’ll let you cum.”

 Your throat is becoming tight, an unexpected wave of emotion hitting you and bringing tears to your eyes. The hand not currently torturing your clit squeezes your hip, and with a shake of your head you close your eyes.

 “I-I deserve you,” you acquiesce, feeling your lower lip threatening to quiver. “I’m sorry.”

 “Gutes Mädchen (good girl).”

 Your head falls back with a moan as he latches his mouth to you again, body bowing as he ruthlessly finishes what he’d started and destroys you- sending you spiraling into bright euphoria and letting you float in the heat of it. You’re suddenly thankful for the arm across your hips, for it’s the only thing anchoring you to the real world as you shake for him.

 “So perfect,” you can hear him saying, his voice now at your ear as you become aware of the press of his cock between your lower lips. “You’re the most perfect thing I've ever seen.”

 Whining pathetically, you tilt your head back and clutch at his back.

“Please,” you beg, eyelids heavy and gaze unfocused. “Please—”

 He doesn’t draw it out this time, quickly hooking his arm under your left leg and opening your hips so he can press himself inside of you. Still wrung out for your orgasm, you can only cry out softly at the feeling of him bottoming out, a broken sound of his own vibrating through his chest into yours.

 You’ve never considered Ron to be a particularly talkative person, so when he begins to babble it catches you off guard while simultaneously endearing him to you further.

 “I can’t believe how good you feel You surely were sent to ruin me God you’re such a good girl Better than I could’ve imagined Squeezing me so tightly I don’t want to be without you I want nothing else than this In what world would you think that I wouldn’t adore you I am yours entirely you ridiculous woman Shit I can feel you shaking Getting so tight Fuck do that again Are you going to cum again I want to hear you scream….”

 Too lost in his words, you don’t know if you actually screamed as you came again- but you do know that at some point you’ve turned your head and sealed your lips to his. His hips stutter as he cums with a breath shout, his free hand dancing up and down your side with a carnal desperation that you could understand but not replicate- not now.

 Because now you are well and truly wrung out.

 The weight of Ron’s body atop yours is welcome, and the sweet way he kisses you is almost too much for your fragile mind to process.

 “Y/N?”

 Ron’s voice is soft, and as you blink your eyes open you cannot help but smile satedly up at him. He looks beautiful, and the soft way he’s looking at you makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Hm?”

 He brings a hand to your face and smooths some of your hair behind your torn ear. 

“You weren’t born for someone else,” he says the words carefully, as if he is struggling with ensuring that they are the right ones. “But…. I’m starting to think that maybe I was. Or that, maybe we were…..Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

 Taking his face between your hands, you take a deep breath and let your eyes drift across his handsome face.

Lifting your head, you lightly press your lips to his and sigh.

 “Yeah, Ron….I think I do.”

 He deepens the kiss, pulling you with him as he rolls to the side and holds you against him.

 “Mo Leannan,” he murmurs into your hair as you rest your cheek against his chest. “Mo Chridhe.”

 You furrowed your brow, the words unfamiliar and in a language you could not identify. It was common knowledge that Ron spoke a passable level of German, but from the way his mouth wrapped around these words, you wondered if he was fluent in another language and had just never told you about it.

 “What did you say?” you asked softly, exhaustion having crept into both of your bodies and rendered you mostly immobile.

 Humming, Ron wraps the hand you’d rested on his chest in his and brings it up to his face so he can kiss your palm.

 “Later,” he says sleepily before lowering your joined hands to rest on his sternum. “I’ll tell you later. Rest.”

 And because you believe him, you do as he says and allow yourself to be swept away.

~ ~ ~

HELLO AND HI! This took forever and a day to write but only bc I overthought everyhting and got distracted by other shiny things SO WHOOPS MY B! Anyhoo- I love ya’ll and remember to hydrate!

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[bagelbright-tok]

Take Me to Funkytown!

____   

Yellow Temperance proves to be a great enemy to Jotaro. Without much of an aid there to assist the teen, he hasn’t much of a choice but to fight for his life. After trying to burn and freeze temperance off of his finger, hope is lost. At least, until an odd individual dances their way into the fight. Ally or enemy? Temperance and Jotaro are unsure.

Jotaro x fem!Reader [Platonic One-shot]

Italics = the music

Word Count: 1,564 Warning(s): Violence, swearing, negligence, bit of social isolation, intense grooving, swearing again, gross horny man tries hitting on reader, I did not re-read __ Blame It on the Boogie! __

You were mostly just touring Singapore for your own personal reasons. You had nothing else to do and you got bored quickly. So, you packed your bags and left for Singapore. You had the essentials; clothes, personal hygiene products, and your Walkman cassette player and headphones. The flights over were smooth as could be. Not like you noticed much anyhow. Most of the time, you had your headphones on, listening to the several cassettes you also had brought in your bag. Since you’d left, you’d made 0 social interactions with other humans. That didn’t bother you in the least. You didn’t necessarily care much for making friends along the way. In fact, you dreaded when people would talk to you. They were annoying, quite frankly. So you would drown out the voices with your music. The only problem was that you would get sick of listening to the same songs over and over again. The perks of traveling were being able to try out new music from places around the world.

Your thoughts were mostly blank while you peered out of the train window at the city you were approaching. “Hey pretty lady~!”

A man’s voice quickly pierced the air around you. But you couldn’t hear him over your loud music. He noticed that quickly and took this as a sign to sit right next to you. “What’s a girl like you sitting all by yourself?”

You scooted away from him once you noticed he had sat next to you. Your smiling expression quickly turned into a frustrated one. You couldn’t hear the man, but his presence alone made you uncomfortable. You became infuriated when you felt his hand remove your headphones. “C’mon girl, don’t-”

You didn’t let him finish as you summoned your Stand, and sent it lunging at the man. Your Stand, Ace’s Wand, representing the tarot card Ace of Wands, was a Stand with the form that could vary depending on your mood and the sounds in the air. With you angry without music, your Stand took on a horrifying form that you could barely comprehend. The noises it made as well were scary. All you could see was the body of the annoying man getting flung like a ragdoll. His body was crumpled like a piece of paper on the other end of the train.

You scoffed, grabbed your headphones, and returned to your position. Your music continued and your site seeing went on. Everyone was scared and confused as they surrounded the man in concern. “Won’t you take me to Funkytown?” You bobbed your head to the beat while everyone whispered in a hushed and terrified tone.

***

The train ride turned into a cableway ride. You sat in a cable car with a man, his kid, and their dog. The kid happily snacked on his popsicle as he enjoyed the view from the car. You were doing the same, except you were listening to your music instead of snacking on a popsicle. Looking out the window, you noticed a guy on a cylindrical shaped building that was tall enough to reach the height of the cable car. It was an odd sight for sure, you even gave him a confused squint. You noticed his sights landing on your cable car. You blinked a couple of times. Your eyes quickly widened when you saw him back up, then charge forth towards your car.

“Oh shit!” You whispered loudly. The teen landed on the car and clutched to the side you had been viewing from. You noticed a purple figure emerge from him and rip the door off the car. Things only got weirder. The man peered at you, then turned his attention to the kid with the popsicle. 

“Hey kid, I am gonna need to use this.” The kid began to cry until the teen spoke again, “Alright, I’ll buy you a new popsicle when we reach the ground.”

The kid nodded, and the tall teen rose back to his height. Your headphones had been knocked off during the impact of the teen crashing into the car. You hardly noticed, even hearing the teen talk and hearing yourself talk. “Whoa! What an entrance! What the hell are you doing?” You blurted out.

“Is this your kid, lady?” The black haired teen asked.

“What? Hell no.”

“Then shut up and enjoy the view.”

Your brows furrowed at that statement. It was of annoyance, but then it turned into confusion when you noticed the yellow blob on the teen’s hand. Just what was going on? You could only ask this as the teen pressed the cold treat onto the yellow substance, wincing in pain in the process as the gross yellow jello spiked and stabbed into his hand. Things only escalated when another presence began to enter the cable car through the door that the teen had rudely ripped off. The presence was similar to the substance on the teenager’s hand, except larger and with another person inside.

“Can’t you get it through your thick skull?” The deep male voice spoke in a taunting manner that sent shivers down your own spine. “My Stand, Yellow Temperance, is indestructible! No matter how much power you may have, you cannot beat my Stand!”

Well shit. It means you’ve found yourself in a Stand battle. You found yourself even more infuriated than before on the train. The black haired teen referred to as Jotaro had ripped a pole from the car and tried to swing it at Yellow Temperance. It wasn't just Jotaro, though. It was his Stand, a large purple humanoid entity that was clearly fast and strong. Angered, you put on your headphones and stood up. It was as the Stand projected itself onto Jotaro and the cable car that things got weird.

Jotaro and the user of Yellow Temperance were now looking at you. Your expression was scrunched up and you could feel the heat rising. With the beat of your music, you had better control of your Stand. "Don't blame it on the sunshine!"

You moved with the rhythm and summoned your Stand without further comment. "Don't blame it on the moonlight."

"Holy shit!" Temperance's user yelled in horror as his eyes laid on your Stand. You could barely make that out with your music as loud as it is.

"What the hell!" Jotaro also exclaimed, but not as loud. Based on Temperance's reaction, it clued him in on the fact that you are clearly not with him. A relief, but also, you aren't with the Joestars.

"Don't blame it on the good times." Just as Temperance was about to latch onto you, you sent out your Stand first. "Blame it on the-!" "BOOGIE!" Your Stand screeched as it went up against the yellow Stand.

The enemy user only screamed as he witnessed your Stand vigorously and aggressively stabbing and digging through his sludge. Even while your Stand could make contact with his, it couldn't be said that the situation could be switched around. Your Stand's form was horrifying in itself, but the idea that his Stand with no weaknesses couldn't touch your Stand was just as terrifying. 

Jotaro realized the opportunity he had now. The enemy had even panicked and removed his Stand from Jotaro. He wasn't even paying attention to Jotaro anymore. You knew why. The fear was overwhelming. You are the greater threat at the moment to him. You bore your eyes into Jotaro, telling him to make his move if he wants it. Your Stand was slowly making its way closer and closer to the user with its claws. Just as your Stand was about to make it to the enemy, with him sobbing, Jotaro used his Stand's fist to punch the user and knock him unconscious. Your Ace's Wand stopped mere inches away from The Temperance card holder. Your Stand emitted a sickly wheeze of laughter before being de-manifested. You were still grooving to the song, though.

"This magic music grooves me! That dirty rhythm moves me! The devil's gotten to me through this dance!"

Jotaro was unsure of how to communicate with you. That uncertainty was cleared up, though, when you yourself removed your ear buds and spoke.

"Hey! Jotaro right?" You chuckled, pointing at him. Jotaro nodded, knowing you had caught his name in the fight. "That was pretty cool. We should do that again sometime."

"What?" Is all Jotaro could murmur in confusion as response to your suggestion.

"I'm [Y/N] [L/N]." Your pointing finger turned into an open palm hand to shake Jotaro's. "I'm a Stand user, too. Not like.." You looked down at the unconscious and shirtless man at your feet. "...him, though. I'm cool, like you."

Jotaro hated women who fawned over him. Most of the female students who crowded him referred to him as "cool," as well. Hearing you say it, though, was different. It wasn't of lust or love like those ladies at school. It was of genuine friendship and curiosity.

"That's.. Great." Jotaro said, extending his hand out and shaking yours. "Hey, I have a question…"

"Go ahead and shoot!" You shook his hand and returned yours to your side.

"Could you join us on our mission to Egypt?" Jotaro is well versed in being blunt and very straightforward. Not that you would know that.

You paused and processed what he had said. " "Our...?" Mission..? Egypt!?"

___

E N D.

A/N: AAAA! This has been sitting in my docs for sooo long! I had no idea where to take it and how to end it. Finally figured it out though! Apologies if it seems rushed or half-assed. This one is very similar to the In With A Bang one-shot. Introducing a character in that fashion. Also, In With A Bang has reached over 100 notes!! That's fuckin bonkers! Please go give it a read if you haven't! I promise it's better than this one, lol!

[unbridgeabledistances]

I love your last fic so much it got me thinking could you write something about like the gallaghers( +Kev and v and sandy etc) observing Ian and Mickey’s relationship? Like their perspectives of seeing them be soft with each other and just their dynamic? I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol <3

hiiiii anon!<3 okay i want to start off by saying that this got WAY too long, bc i loved this prompt a lot- so much that i think i might make this a multi-part thing on ao3! i started with sandy (since i am in love with her) but i’ll also go through the gallaghers/kev & v soon- lmk if u guys want me to continue, and who u would want me to write next if i do (or if u want me to continue with sandy lol i have lots of thoughts and feelings)

this ended up taking place in s10 when we first meet sandy, fyi:) also tw for brief mentions of abuse (as always, bc of terry 🙄) -- and there is a reference to the line in 10x07 that jokes about mickey and sandy for a brief moment

--

When Sandy heard her phone buzz on that Tuesday afternoon, sitting on the stained and lumpy couch in her shithead uncle’s living room while drinking a beer and arguing with Alek about what type of insurance fraud could make the biggest payout, she had no idea what to expect on the other end of the line. The phone kept ringing, the contact info lighting up the screen: MICKEY.

Mickey? Shit. It had been a long fucking time. Between her own various juvie stints as a kid and Mickey’s time behind bars overlapping just as she got released, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey since… high school, maybe? Whenever it was, it was back when Mickey was a grimy kid with spikey hair and dirty fingernails, a kid with an obsession with guns and way too much time on his hands, back when they would hang out by the train tracks and drink beer and get way too high and do stupid shit; all in all, back when everything was a hell of a lot simpler. Sandy assumed Mickey had met Royal and been clued in about her shitshow of a life at some point while she’d been gone, and they’d possibly overlapped at a family party or two a few years ago when they both were in town— but other than hearing about the aftershocks of Mickey coming out and driving Terry up a goddamn wall, so much so that Terry broke his parole and was headed straight back to prison hours after his release, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey in forever.

Which is why this call intrigued her so much— Mickey was supposed to be in prison for at least a couple more years, or at least that’s what his brothers had said, so why the fuck was he using a cell phone right now?

Sandy nodded her head towards the cellphone, cutting Alek off mid-sentence and sliding her thumb across the screen to pick up the call. Before saying anything, she rose off the creaky springs of the couch and speedwalked out to the front porch before answering— whatever the fuck Mickey wanted, she assumed he was calling her because this conversation wasn’t for the ears of any other Milkoviches. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the post of the front stoop, listening to the silence hanging heavy on her phone’s speaker.

“Mickey? You there?”

A low chuckle came from the other end of the line.

“Fuck. Been a long time.” Mickey’s voice sounded the same; punchy and snarky, maybe a little gruffer and raspier after years of cigarette smoke. Sandy waited a moment for Mickey to give more of a reply, or an explanation for his call, but it was clear that Mickey wasn’t going to give one right away— it was like he was testing the waters, like he was deciding if making this call was the right move. Soft static echoed on the phone line.

Sandy totally got it— reemerging from a life of cinderblock cell walls and barbed wire fences fucking sucked, especially when you were a Milkovich and the moment you got out you were faced with a choice, an opportunity: did you want to go back home, or did you want to start fresh, erase your own name, and forget this dysfunctional family ever existed? Sandy knew she felt the same way when she got out. Mickey deciding to call Sandy was a big fucking move, and she realized that— reclaiming your life as a Milkovich on the brink of a new beginning took guts.

“So, I take it you’re out of prison?” Sandy asked after a moment, inhaling another slow puff of her cigarette.

There was that laugh again— Sandy had weirdly missed it. Honestly, Mickey hadn’t ever been too bad to be around— they’d both felt like outsiders in the family, had both always had a strong head on their shoulders and a fucking moral compass, unlike the rest of Terry’s sheep who did his bidding and got swastikas tattooed on their chest. When he was younger Mickey used to follow Terry and his older brothers around like a lost puppy, and he even got those fucking knuckle tats—but later in high school, Sandy remembered seeing something deep snap inside him, bleeding out in “STAY THE FUCK OUT” and “FUCK LOVE” signs taped onto his bedroom walls. At the time she thought it was the fucked-up shit with Terry and Mandy driving him up a wall— but now she realized the constant bombardment of homophobia, coupled with the cuts and bruises blooming on his cheeks and the cigarette burn scars on his arms, must have been signs of Mickey realizing the rude awakening that was inevitably going to come if he wanted to be who he was. Sandy couldn’t even imagine— no one really gave a shit who she fucked, and her cousins didn’t know anything about her sex life—but she couldn’t fathom being Terry’s son, the pride and joy of the Milkovich clan, and needing to outwardly admit those deeper parts of herself.

“Yup, I’m free to join civilization as of this morning. Overcrowding or some shit.” Sandy could hear Mickey also taking a drag of a cigarette on the other end of the line. She smirked to herself. Guess we both didn’t break the Milkovich nicotine addiction.

“So, uh, listen,” Mickey continued, and Sandy immediately knew he was in deep shit if she was the one he was calling to ask for a favor. “I’m in a bit of a… situation. Don’t wanna go into too many specifics, but there might be a massive fucking Mexican cartel after me right now.”

Sandy barked out a laugh before she could help herself. Fucking Mickey. “Oh yeah? Sounds like you’re feeling thrilled to be a free man again.”

Mickey chuckled again. “Fuck you. But hey, d’you think you can bring my shit by to me, so I don’t have to stop by the house and get fucking killed? You don’t gotta rush or whatever, just didn’t wanna show my face quite yet.”

Sandy could feel all the unsaid things wrapped in the way Mickey’s sentence ended. Didn’t want to show his face quite yet because of this cartel bullshit, or because of Terry? She decided it didn’t really matter— Mickey was a good guy, she could spend an hour or so rounding up his shit and bringing it to him if that’s what he needed.

“Got it.” She blew out more smoke, watching it curl and drift over the wasteland of the front yard on a gust of summer air.

Mickey cleared his throat, like he was gearing up to say more. When he spoke, his voice was softer around the edges, more genuine than before.

“I’m, uh. I’m sure you heard everything about me while I was gone. About Terry flipping his shit. Probably not the best idea for me to come around the house quite yet—my brothers n’ I haven’t really talked much since then either.” He paused, inhaling another drag of his cigarette. “I figured you’d get it. And hey, if you can bring the stuff by, I’d love to hear all the badass shit you’ve been up to the past few years.”

Sandy nearly winced—yeah, if by “badass shit” you mean getting forcibly married to a douchebag and then couch surfing for months— but she tried to keep her shit together for Mickey’s sake. She stubbed out her cigarette on the railing of the porch, straightening from where she was leaning.

“I’ve got it Mickey, don’t worry about it. Where are you right now, anyways?”

She could hear the hint of relief bleeding into Mickey’s voice when he replied. “I’m at the Gallagher house? The grey one by the tracks.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “I was in jail for a couple of years Mickey, not braindead. I know where the Gallagher house is.”

Mickey huffed out a breath, but there wasn’t any sharpness in it. “Excuse me for tryin’ to be helpful, smartass.”

“Why the fuck are you there, anyways?”

“I’m, uh, crashing with my partner for now. Ian?”

Holy shit, Mickey was still fucking Ian Gallagher? Sandy had pieced together that Ian was the reason Mickey came out months after getting married to some Russian bitch, and according to Iggy the whole reason Mickey went to jail in the first place was some love-crazed revenge plot on Ian’s behalf— but since getting locked up Mickey hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, other than a shady-as-fuck message to his brothers after he’d busted out of prison letting everyone know that he was in Mexico, despite getting thrown back into jail in Chicago a couple months later. Sandy didn’t really know the details, and she especially didn’t know anything about Mickey’s love life— but it was wild as fuck that someone as unsettled and ruthless and batshit crazy as Mickey could’ve been with the same person all this time, especially someone as seemingly bland as Ian Gallagher. Huh. Wonder if I’ll get to see Ian.

“Got it. I’ll round up your shit and bring it by the Gallagher house later today. And don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know you called til you’re ready.”

Mickey exhaled on the other end of the line. “There shouldn’t be much, just check the drawers or whatever. “

Sandy knew for a fact that most of Mickey’s lingering possessions had probably been taken, sold, or thrown out by a zealously homophobic Terry by now, but she wasn’t going to say as much to Mickey over the phone.

“I’m on it. See you in a couple hours.”

“Hey, Sandy?” Mickey blew out a long breath, and this time Sandy couldn’t tell if it was because he was still smoking or because he was riding a wave of relief, releasing the floodgates of anxiousness he’d been holding in the whole conversation. “Thanks. I fuckin’ owe you one.”

Sandy smirked. Maybe Mickey being let out of jail early was a good thing, despite how fucked his whole situation seemed— maybe, for once, someone in her family would be fun to be around, wouldn’t set her teeth on edge every two seconds by making a racist comment or forcing her to be something she wasn’t.

“I’ll text you when I’m almost at your love nest.”

She imagined Mickey’s grin as he replied. “Fuck you. See ya soon.”

**

After scraping through every rickety dresser drawer in Terry’s house for nearly an hour, Sandy could barely come up with anything that was reportedly Mickey’s: a couple of tattered shirts, an impressively overused-looking bong, and a single sneaker she’d left behind because she couldn’t find the other one. She threw it all in some shitty burlap rucksack she’d found on one of the bedroom floors, assuming no one would miss it— it dawned on her that maybe her cousins were lying, and some of the other stuff in the house was still Mickey’s, but she’d collected what she could based on the whispered directions Alek and Iggy had given her when Terry was out of the room.

Sandy unlocked her phone, and typed a quick message to Mickey. “Out front.”

Mickey’s reply came quickly, and Sandy noticed the front curtains rustling on the top floor of the Gallagher house.

“Coming down”

The front door creaked open, and Mickey walked out onto the front porch. He looked good; he looked cleaner, sure, but also like a fucking adult—like he’d grown into himself, like he actually carried himself with confidence instead of just pretending to. He nodded his chin up at Sandy in acknowledgement.

“Long time no see.” He smirked, leaning on the banister. “You make a good delivery service. All those hauls we did with Terry must’ve been good training.”

Sandy lazily walked up the front steps, reaching the bag out in front of her for Mickey to take. “Here’s all the shit I could find. It’s not much.”

Mickey jerked his head to the open door behind him. “You wanna come in for a sec?”

Sandy grinned. Why the fuck not. “Sure."

So that was how she found herself perched on what was presumably Ian Gallagher’s bed, watching Mickey ruffle through the burlap bag, his brows furrowed as he realized just how much of his shit was actually gone.

“This everything?”

“As much as I could find.”

They comfortably chatted back and forth about how everyone was— Sandy decided to divulge the fact that Mickey’s brothers were idiots who tried to crawl in bed with her every night, which is something that she had to joke about so she didn’t go fucking insane sleeping under the same roof as them.

“Fuck ‘em, chop their nuts off next time they try it.”

Sandy smirked. Finally, a decent fucking relative. She made some hollow joke about staying with Mickey, alluding to the extra-shitty night decades ago when their cousins had forced them to make out when they were way too high on something.

“Or I could stay here with you. Have fun like we did when we were kids.”

“You know that’s fucked up, right? We’re fucking cousins!”

“Plus he’s taken.” A voice came from around the corner.

Ian Gallagher looked bigger, taller, and more solid than Sandy remembered; he was definitely miles away from the scrawny kid with the bangs who worked at the Kash N Grab that Sandy and her cousins endlessly used to fuck with in middle school. Ian’s shoulders were wide, his body imposing in the tiny room; immediately, Mickey’s aggravated stance softened when Ian walked in, wrapped in a towel from the waist down.

“Oh right, you.” Sandy grinned as Ian hunched over the bed and grabbed his deodorant from the nightstand.

Mickey had turned back to the bag of clothes. “Hey, I had shampoo and shit, is there soap anywhere?”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “You’ve been gone for years, you think your brothers would save that shit for you?” she bit out— and okay, maybe she was a little pissed at Mickey’s brothers for the constant-sexual-assault thing.

Ian just applied his deodorant and leaned in close to Mickey as he passed by the bed towards the doorframe. “You can use mine. We’ll hit Costco later, I’m getting paid.”

It was stupid, but Sandy felt something soft pang in her chest at Ian’s words; it was just now that she was realizing it, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen someone take care of Mickey before, or so… automatically factor Mickey’s needs into a situation. Being a Milkovich was all about scrounging and scraping, and guarding what little you had; a Milkovich would never let someone use their fucking soap just because they cared about them, or not as an immediate reaction anyways.

“Nah, I can’t, man. PO texted me when you were in the shower, he’s got a job for me.”

Ian kept looking at Mickey from where he was leaning in the doorway. “Then give me a list of shit you need, and I’ll pick it up for you,” Ian said in an overly simple tone, like he was mocking the fact that Mickey didn’t realize Ian would run an errand for him.

Sandy smirked. Jesus, Gallagher is whipped.

“Isn’t that cute, little domestic bitches,” Sandy crooned before she could help herself.

Ian stepped into the room again and leaned in towards Mickey, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s cheek while Mickey aggressively tried to uncrumple one of the pile of shirts from the bag.

“Mm, thank you,” Ian said in reply, his voice muffling as he smushed his face closer to Mickey’s.

Mickey instantly smiled smugly as Ian’s lips pressed against his cheek—then he noticed Sandy was staring, so he flipped her off and smiled even wider. What the fuck? Sure, Mickey had flipped Sandy off, but he was practically fucking beaming in a way that Sandy had never seen. God, wonder if I’ll find this shit someday.

Ian detached himself from Mickey and walked out of the room, Mickey’s eyes lingering on his torso. Once Ian had turned the corner Mickey snapped back to attention, fixing his eyes back onto the small mountain of clothes spread on the bed in front of him. Mickey lifted the bong off the bedsheets, and met Sandy’s gaze. 

“You have to go, or d’you wanna hang for a bit? I don’t have to be at work for a couple hours, and it’s gonna suck enough that I should probably be high before I get there.”

Sandy grinned. “Hell yeah, I’m down.”

**

They sat on the rickety back steps of the Gallagher house, silently taking hits and passing the bong back and forth. It had been years since they’d been in the same space, but Sandy and Mickey easily sank into a comfortable silence, passively surrounded by the shrieks of kids playing across the alleyway and the bubbling of water as they inhaled. Mickey blew smoke out of his nose, then sat back so he was leaning against the banister and passed the glass pipe to Sandy.

“So,” Sandy started as she held the lighter to the bong and inhaled deeply. “Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey huffed out a laugh. “Yup. That’s some Romeo and Juliet shit for ya.”

Sandy smirked as she exhaled. “You really fucking love him, huh?”

Mickey eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as he looked towards her. “Yeah. Guess I do.” He took the bong from Sandy’s outstretched hand. “Took me forever to get shit straight with him, though.”

Ah. So their road to domestic bliss wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. Sandy’s curiosity was growing.

“Because of shit with Terry?”

Mickey stiffened, coughing a bit as he exhaled smoke, like Sandy’s question caught him off guard. “Shit. Yeah. That too. Let’s just say there were lots of fucking ups and downs, and we both had a lot of shit to unpack.”

Sandy snickered. “You sound like a fucking couples therapist.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “If you wanna see couples therapy, I should tell you about the months me and Ian were sharing a fucking cell. We nearly ripped each other’s heads off. We literally stabbed someone so one of us might get sent to fucking solitary.”

Sandy’s laughter grew. “Are you fucking serious?”

Mickey grinned, and passed the bong back to Sandy again. “Fuck. Yeah. I fucking love him, though. He’s fucking crazy, and I still can’t let him go.” Mickey looked off into the distance across the alleyway, and either the weed was really hitting him right now, or he was being a very sappy motherfucker.

Sandy nudged Mickey’s knee. “You guys are cute together.” Mickey’s eyebrows raised when he heard the word “cute,” and Sandy quickly tried to rephrase. “Not cute, but y’know. Good for each other. You seem happy. Happy is... good.”

Mickey nodded pensively. “How’re you doing, anyways?”

Sandy shrugged noncommittally. “Eh. We can talk about me another time. How the fuck did you and Ian end up sharing a jail cell, anyways?”

Mickey let out a throaty laugh. “I heard Gallagher was getting locked up when I was down south, so I essentially pulled some strings and fucking snitched on the cartel I was working for. Hauled my ass back up here so we could be together.”

Holy fuck. Sandy’s jaw nearly dropped. “Mickey, you’re batshit crazy.” She shoved him squarely in the chest this time. “Are you fucking serious?! You evaded the feds, were living in Mexico, and you came back for Ian Gallagher?”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, placing the bong on the steps. “I can’t explain it, man. I just didn’t wanna be anywhere else, I guess.”

Sandy leaned back onto the banister. “Shit.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask the next question. “Do you… want me to tell anyone you’re back?”

Mickey glanced over at her, his eyes alert. “Nah. Not yet. That okay with you?”

Sandy nodded. “Of course.” Mickey pulled out his phone, checking the time and presumably looking for a distraction from tiptoeing around talking about Terry— but Sandy had to tell him, had to let him know one more thing.

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey looked up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t really know the details of what went down with Terry, or whatever— but I just wanted to let you know that… if you ever wanna come home, I’m on your side. No questions asked. And I think a lot of the others are, too.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upward. “Thanks.”

Sandy stood, checking her phone and zipping her leather jacket. “Well, I’d probably let you sober up a bit before your big parolee first day of work.”

Mickey raised a middle finger up to her from where he was seated, but then rose to stand.

“Thanks for comin’ by. And hey—you’re free to crash here anytime. There’s a million fucking kids running around all the time, but there’s always a couch or something open if everyone at home’s giving you too much shit.”

Sandy felt something warm growing in her chest. It had been a long fucking time since someone offered to take care of her, just because they could, just because they wanted to— maybe being a Milkovich wasn’t half bad. Maybe there were some good ones.

Sandy nodded in acknowledgement, and turned to walk down the creaky back steps. Wow. If Sandy was sure of one thing right now, it was that Mickey really, really fucking loved Ian Gallagher.

[themuseic]

Only Fools (Chapter 15/15)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 4.9k

Read Chapter 14 here. // Read here on AO3. // Masterlist.

Warnings: Sad Times Again (Sorry), Imposter Syndrome, Implied Alcohol Use.

A/N: Thank you for sticking with me through this story, and as always, for reading. <3 

“I have to leave.” 

~~~

“Oh darlin’,” Clyde’s eyes softened as he folded you in close. You pressed your face into his neck and breathed him in as you attempted to reign back your quickly beating heart. You couldn’t feel the tear tracks racing down your face, but Clyde could feel them start to wet his skin and he squeezed you closer. You, on the other hand, couldn’t feel anything. 

Clyde rubbed your back as he absorbed the news and swallowed thickly. His mind raced, but his mouth couldn’t produce words. 

The cacophonous bustle of eager patrons pushing through the door of the Duck Tape broke your soft silence and you pushed yourself off of Clyde’s chest. You sniffed and rubbed your nose with a sharp inhale, unwilling to look toward the group of locals gathering at the end of the bar. 

Clyde snuck a look over to the group before he looked back at you, his eyes still soft and comforting.

“Why don’t y’ go wait back in my office,” he whispered, just to you. His thumb swiped back and forth over your hip. “Wait for me until I can get Earl to take over.”

“Then we can go home?” you muttered.

Clyde nodded. “Then we can go home.” 

~~~

Clyde’s office was pristine. He was the organized Logan. That was, apart from his books of course, but he had so many he simply could have no rhyme or reason to those. But everything else in his life was a picture of organization, and his office was a testament to that. The documents that detailed the Duck Tape’s business were tucked neatly away in files and even the smallest paperclip was perfectly set in a ceramic bowl on his desk. Everything had a place. Except for, it seemed, you. 

You curled up on the creaky leather couch that Clyde kept tucked in the corner for relaxing - though to be honest, the pair of you had found your own use for it - and gazed around the room. It was impossible to not feel out of place amongst his items. You hadn’t felt that overwhelming insecurity even once since you and Clyde had become official. But yet, here you found yourself, your departure impending, along with the looming reminder that your time in Boone County was temporary. It was never going to be your home.

Desperate to stop yourself from thinking yourself in circles, you closed your eyes and did your very best to quiet your mind.

~~~

Barely an hour had passed before the heavy wooden door squeaked as it pushed open slowly. Clyde slid into the room and his eyes zipped straight to you. The minute your gaze connected, you felt tears beginning to well in your eyes again. “Oh darlin’,” he crooned as he reached for you. “Come here.”

You allowed him to pull you off of the couch and into his chest. It was easy to melt into him as he wrapped his awaiting arms around you and squeezed you once. “Can we go home now?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

~~~

As you crossed the threshold of the trailer, you were hit with a sudden rush of emotions. It was a sort of nostalgia that you didn’t feel was within your rights to have but yet, it flooded your body. This cozy abode had become more to you in the last year than you had ever thought possible. Your heart tightened as you gazed at the books stacked neatly next to the couch, where you and Clyde had last left them. You smiled at the blanket that you and Clyde sat underneath as you read or talked, and you even looked at the cramped kitchen with fondness. You were sure burnt bacon was caked into the walls with how often Clyde cooked it, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Clyde plopped himself down onto the couch with a solid huff of breath and opened his arms to you. Your movements were laden with a sort of pervasive sadness as you sat beside him and flung your legs over his lap to settle back into his chest. His button-up was soft underneath the tips of your fingers as you dragged them across the fabric, searching for comfort in between the threads, but only when you slipped them through the gaps of the shirt buttons to caress the skin of his chest did you find it. 

You sat like that in silence for hours. 

~~~

Late that night, between stolen kisses and lingering touches, that answer became painfully clear, although neither of you wanted to say it out loud. There, tucked up under the covers and in each other's arms, you came to the unspoken agreement. 

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know.”

Silence filled the air.

“I have to go.”

“I know, darlin’.”

“I’ll always love you.”

A breath. 

“I’ll always love you too.”

~~~

.

.

.

.

.

~~~

It would have been impossible for any passerby to miss the sight of the bar that night.

The Duck Tape was full to the brim with the people of the town that you had gotten to know in the year you had been there. Clyde had closed the bar to anyone but them for the night. The air was filled with nothing sort of a dull roar as townsfolk and Logans alike bathed in rousing music, cold drink, and loud conversation. 

Your farewell party was in full swing.

It was a somber event, but you couldn’t have guessed that by scanning the crowd. No one had been clued into the reason for the gathering yet, just how you wanted it to be. You didn’t need some grandiose send-off. No, you were just happy to see everyone another time before you took off on the road the next day, so that bittersweet knowledge was reserved for you and Clyde to bear. Sure, you would tell them as the night ended, but you were perfectly content to revel in the happiness until that happened. 

Mellie sat beside you, chatting away to catch you up on all the town’s latest gossip. One of the many perks of having the town hairdresser as a friend was that you always knew what was happening in any corner of Boone County. 

“And I heard that Tristan, down the road,” Mellie mused, “Well I heard that he’s been thinkin’ ‘bout selling his shop and movin’ out to Charlotte.” She shook her head. “Just to be closer to the speedway.”

You managed a smile back at that. “What, you don’t like that? Not a NASCAR fan anymore?” you teased her. 

Mellie shook her head. “Nope, I haven’t watched since…. Well for a good while.” She winked at you and giggled. 

It was difficult, seeing her so happy and carefree when you knew that you would be leaving the state in less than twelve hours. Your eyes fell to the smooth bar and you forced a laugh at her joke, quickly sipping at your drink to cover your false joy. It didn’t go unnoticed. 

“What’s the matter there?” she asked, her brow furrowed and a frown plastered across her face. “You’ve been pretty quiet for such a fun night.”

A smile forced its way to your lips but didn’t quite reach your eyes. The performative joy just didn’t seem like it would make it that high up your face. 

“Nothing’s the matter! Guess I’m just a bit tired.” You shrugged and flicked your eyes down the bar to see Clyde passing a beer to one of the Bang brothers. As if he could feel your stare boring holes through his back, he looked at you and smiled. You shot him one in return before you looked back at Mellie, who was bouncing her eyes between you and Clyde in suspicion. “Nothing to worry about.” 

Mellie narrowed her eyes at you and opened her mouth to contest your response, but was promptly cut off. 

“What are you two chattin’ about?”

Clyde moseyed his way over to where you were both sat at the bar, and you grabbed the distraction gratefully. “Mel was just catching me up on what she’s been hearing around the salon lately. Just some gossip,” you explained between sips of your drink. 

Mellie nodded in agreement, successfully distracted from her concerns over your mood. “We’ll, I’ll let the two of y’all swoon over each other in peace,” she teased as stood from her seat at the bar. “I’ll catch up with you in a little bit, alright?” You nodded. “Of course Mellie, have fun!” you assured her, and she squeezed your arm in parting once before slipping into the crowd in search of Joe. 

“You alright? I see it in your eyes a bit,” Clyde fussed, his sincere hazel eyes holding you in their gaze. “See that sadness.” 

Not loud enough for your next sentence to fall on unintended ears, you replied, “Well of course I’m upset Clyde. I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow.” It was surreal to say out loud. 

Clyde reached forward to take your hand where it rested on the bar, his veins throbbing just slightly as he squeezed you. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand and looked up at him. He smiled at you as he could best manage, and lifted your hand to his mouth to plant a kiss on your knuckles and provide that silent comfort. His lips were soft against your skin, his goatee rough, and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the feeling. Oh, how you would miss it.

“Hey, Clyde, there another keg in th’ back?” a voice suddenly called to him across the length of the bar. Clyde sighed as he looked towards the request and hollered back, “Yep, gimme a sec.” His soft gaze returned to you and he insisted, “Try to enjoy yourself, darlin’. You deserve it.” With a pursed smile you nodded your head in a silent promise. “Good.”

Clyde leaned forward to kiss your forehead before he turned to the awaiting gaggle of men clutching empty cups, and he was greeted with a raucous cheer. 

You managed a thin smile at the jubilation that swirled around you and looked down at your drink, stirring it lazily. It wasn’t long before someone new demanded your attention.

You felt a tug on your shirt, accompanied by a very determined shout of “Hey!”

A pair of great big round eyes gazed up at you and you beamed right back. “Hey, Sadie. Are you having fun?” you smiled at her. She nodded back without hesitation. “Yeah! Uncle Clyde makes the most deeeeelicious Shirley Temples.” You laughed as you noticed the signs of her soft drink conquests. Now that you saw them, it was impossible to miss how the corners of her mouth were tinged bright red, the signature hue of the sweet grenadine that gave the soda its color.

You were still giggling when she thrust the twine-bound book she clutched in her grasp up towards your face. 

“D’you wanna see my book?” she squealed, her fingers tapping along the side as she shook it. Her eyes had that signature Logan gleam, the one that tipped you off that they had a thought that just had to be shared. Your eyes widened at the prospect, you pulled the barstool to your side back away from the bar, and patted it swiftly. “Get on up here, let me see it!”

Sadie’s feet shuffled with excitement as she clambered up onto the stool top. “Well perfect, I’d hoped you’d say that,” she crowed. The leather top of the seat hissed as she plopped down on top of it and spread the brown, flecked pages of the book flat against the bar. “See, I’ve gotten into photography,” Sadie glanced up at you with palpable self-assurance, “as you know, and so I made the whole book by myself.” 

You clicked your teeth. “No way!”

“Uuuh, yes way!” she gasped. “I took all the pictures, bound all the pages, and authored this all by myself.” Sadie snapped her mouth shut with conviction. “I bet I could win awards for this book.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong about that, not one bit!” You smiled and patted the cover of the book lightly. “But show me what you’ve done.”

“Oh yeah!” Sadie cracked open the book.

You were greeted with a barrage of photographs. Things you recognized and some you didn’t. There were pictures of the Purple Lady, sat prim and proper in the adjustable chair of Mellie’s salon. A small snapshot of wildflowers on the side of the road. Pictures of every single Logan you could think of.

Her bubbling voice pulled your attention to the next page as she flipped. “This one is from the fall, when my daddy and I raked up all the leaves just so we could jump back in ‘em,” Sadie giggled, her face split by her big, crooked smile. 

Your eyes creased with your grin. “That looks like a fun time Sadie!”

As she flipped through the pages and babbled away, you were surprised by the pang of nostalgia that began to ache in your chest again. The same feeling that had plagued you for the past week. The one that should have been out of reach for you.  

The same rush of questions that you had tried so hard to answer since you had discovered you had to leave Boone County looped through your head for the thousandth time. How could you already be nostalgic for a place you had known for less than a year? Was that fair? You felt like an imposter, inserting yourself into a life you hadn’t earned, and all because you had fallen for a man who lived among them. You felt fake. 

But in all honesty, it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how long you had been in Boone County or in Clyde’s arms, you still felt the sting of saltwater at the corners of your eyes. 

Sadie leafed through the booklet and showed you all different snapshots of the county. It was a special sort of walk down memory lane, through the eyes of a four-foot-nine girl. 

Slowly, the images became dusted with white. It was an ephemeral scene, the one that captures the solid memories and the essence of the season in one. 

“Ohhh,” Sadie drawled. “I just love winter don’t you?” You nodded as you thought back to memories of the winter festival.

Your heart clenched as your gaze caught sight of the picture Sadie had pasted in the center of the next page, surrounded by stickers of cartoon snowflakes and sleds. You looked down at the shiny, flash illuminated faces of you and Clyde. You had a wide grin plastered across your face, your nose was tipped in whipped cream, and Clyde was frozen, caught by the camera just as a laugh bubbled to his lips. His arm was slung around you like a protective shawl, and your head tilted towards his chest as though it chased his comfort. 

It was almost magical, how quickly you were transported back to that moment, happy and blissfully unaware of what the future would hold. 

“I really like this picture,” Sadie babbled, pointing at your smiling face. You bobbed your head in agreement and swallowed the lump in your throat. “It’s a pretty nice photo,” you sniffed in agreement. “Thank you for taking it.”

A gruff voice broke through your conversation. “Whatcha got there lil’ Sadie?”

You looked up to see Clyde stopped in front of you, his hands busy as they wiped down a glass and his head cocked as he tried to gaze at the book laid in front of his niece. 

Sadie slid the book around so that he could get a view of the page. “It’s you two! From the winter festival!” she exclaimed. 

Clyde’s face froze as he stared at the scene before him. You cheered on your lip as you scanned his face for any sign of reaction. 

“It’s beautiful,” he choked out. When his deep eyes met yours, you swallowed thickly again. It was impossible to break eye contact with Clyde as he stared you down. The amber seas of his eyes were easy to get lost in, and you stared at him, unable and unwilling to break that line of sight. He gazed back at you with an equally loving and intense stare. 

The party was far too intimate to allow anyone a moment of peace and quiet, and that was proven true in a split second. 

“Alright,” Jimmy announced his presence with the same subtlety ad a foghorn. He smashed his hands against the bar, pulling you and Clyde out of your bittersweet stare. “What in god’s name is going on with the two of you?” He huffed a breath through his upper lip as he clutched at the edge of the bar top. “You two hooligans invited us here for a party and now what? Y’ mope through the whole thing?”

In unison, almost as if it was planned, you and Clyde sighed through your noses. He cocked his eyebrow at you. “Think it’s time to tell ‘em?” Clyde inquired.

You bit your cheek and sighed lightly. “It’s as good a time as any,” you replied and shifted to look at Jimmy. He looked at you from under his brow expectantly and gestured his hands as if to hurry along the explanation he awaited. 

“I’m leaving. Tomorrow. I just wanted to see everyone again before I did.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” 

Mellie appeared out of thin air behind her brother, her mouth gaped in offense that you had kept that secret hidden away. You grimaced at her sharp inflection. “I’m really sorry Mel. I didn’t want to be a downer.” A nervous laugh escaped you as you tried to reckon with the freshly broken news and shrug it off. 

“Well, you better talk now,” Jimmy demanded, his eyes laced with concern. “What happens next? What’s your plan?”

You gestured your hands widely in surrender. “There’s nothing to do. I have to leave, I can’t lose this job.”

Mellie harrumphed as she shook her head. “What about the two of you?”

“Clyde and I already talked it through. We had a good run while it lasted.” Your face twisted as you tried to hold your emotions at bay. “But it’s time for me to go.” 

Clyde nodded behind you, staring just below his sibling’s eye line as he avoided their intense glares.

“Well, that just won’t do.” Jimmy wouldn’t let the topic go, nor it seemed, let you come to terms with the fact that it was quickly approaching. 

You sighed. “Jimmy, there’s nothing to do. I leave tomorrow.”

Clyde interjected, seeming determined to halt the conversation lest either of you burst into tears that didn’t need to be shed. “It’s done, Jim.”

“Me ‘n Jimmy can look over the bar.” 

Earl’s voice cut through the bar and all of your heads snapped to him. He looked over to Jimmy with a smile that screamed satisfaction, and the eldest Logan nodded right back at him. “Well Earl, that’s a mighty fine idea,” Jimmy mused aloud before he looked back at you. “So then Clyde can go with you.”

“Guys, I don’t know when I’ll be done with the next assignment-,” you started, but Jimmy cut you off with a hand and a definitive voice. “No, that wasn’t a suggestion, it was a statement.”

Clyde shook his head. “That one tall order to ask of you. I know Earl’s always fine bein’ here, but what about you? What about the hardware store?”

“I don’t have to take the seasonal job at Lowe’s again this season, I’m flexible.” Jimmy’s hand clapped against his brother’s broad shoulder. “Anyway Clyde, you haven’t had a break in how long?”

Clyde’s eyebrows pinched together as he pondered his brother’s statement. “Don’t think I ever have.”

“That settles it. You could use a break, and your darlin’ here could use some company on the road.”

Clyde chewed on his lip for a moment, pondering the offer his older brother had laid before him. You could see the gears turning in his head and your heart clenched. That one offer, that one saving grace from his brother could change everything. 

“Sweetheart,” Clyde started hesitantly. “Would you mind a lil’ change of plans?” he asked, choosing each word carefully as he mulled the plan over in his own mind. 

Your eyes widened at him. “Clyde, do you mean that? Would you… I mean would you want to?” You could barely form a single coherent thought, let alone process this sacrifice on your behalf.

Clyde laughed and shook his head. “You know I’d want nothing less.” 

It was impossible to believe the new set of rules before you. Sure, you still had to leave Boone County, but you didn’t have to leave Clyde. You didn’t have to set out by yourself. It seemed impossible that you didn’t swallow a bug with how far your mouth hung open as you tried to process the thought of it all. 

“What’s goin’ through that little head of yours?” Earl called over to you, pulling a laugh from Jimmy. You snapped from your bliss and gawked at the pair of them, each with goofy smiles plastered across their faces. “Jimmy, Earl, I could kiss you both right now.” 

“Hey, watch it,” Clyde growled as he reached forward and pinched your arm lightly. “You best be saving those sweet kisses for me.” You giggled and leaned forward to grab Clyde’s collar and pull him to you. He laughed as he allowed himself to fall forward, and he planted a fat, wet kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

You chuckled and pushed his face back with your free palm. “Are you sure about this? Coming with me, I mean?” Your hands vibrated with pure excitement. 

Clyde smiled wide at that. “More sure about this than I’ve ever been about anything darlin’.”

You beamed and yanked his face forward to kiss him deeply. Hoots and cheers erupted around you as you smiled against his lips, and you heard Clyde’s perfect chuckle as he pushed back into you. The roaring in your ears as you and Clyde got lost in the feeling of each other drowned out the sounds of the Logan’s celebration. Their cheers faded into the background slowly, until it felt like it was just the two of you in the bar, consumed in the bliss of one another. It was perfect. 

~~~

Trees zipped by you as you raced down the West Virginia highway, Clyde at the wheel and you prepped and ready to navigate. Music filled the air as it filtered out of the speakers that dotted the dashboard, and you hummed along to the tune as you gazed out of the windows.

The Logans had come to the trailer early that morning to see you off. Mellie had quickly helped her brother pack a suitcase full of everything he might need on your cross-country trip, and Jimmy whipped up a breakfast for the whole lot of you to share before you set off. 

Each of them had left you with a hug, a kiss on the cheek, well wishes, and the promise that they would see you sooner than you’d know, but you’d received two going away presents as well.

The first was from Sylvia. She had passed you a red canvas backpack with a shiny white cross plastered across it. It was stuffed full of first aid supplies “for when you’re out on the trails again,” she had said with a wink. “Can never be too safe.” You had thanked her, knowing you would inevitably come to need it, and she responded with a tight, warm hug.

The second was from little Sadie. You hadn’t wanted to accept them at first, reminding her that she needed them for her portfolio but she, in true Logan fashion, wouldn’t take no for an answer. She had pushed them into your hand and scurried away before you could protest, screaming “Bye, drive safe!” the whole way.

You thumbed the corner of the photographs, flipping in between them as you looked at you and Clyde’s smiling faces. They were both from the festival, from that cherry red booth that Sadie had photographed the two of you in. One had a rough patch of material on the back of it, where Sadie had peeled it from her book. You smiled at her generosity, that she would sacrifice a page of her book just for you to have a keepsake on the road. 

Clyde slowed down ever so slightly as the buildings of the town began to dot the sides of the highway, and you smiled at the business you had come to know and love.

“Nice ‘lil goodbye to the town, huh darlin’?” Clyde pondered as he peered forward out of the windshield. 

You turned towards him to smile and agree when you were suddenly hit square in the chest with just the perfect idea.

“Clyde!!” you exclaimed, your arms flying out in front of you. 

“What, what!” his head whipped to face you, a look of horror plastered across his face. Clyde’s head whipped back and forth between the road and you as you stumbled and blubbered over your words. “Can you… over?” you thrust your arm in front of his face and pointed to the building coming up on the driver’s side of the road. 

“Diner!”

Clyde shot a quizzical look at you and you responded by nodding your head. Without a second thought, Clyde turned across the highway and skidded into the asphalt parking lot. You didn’t hesitate to throw open the door of the car and toss your body out once he was just barely parked. 

You rushed through the glass door of the diner, grabbed a tack from the small dish by the front, and clambered onto the squeaky vinyl seats of the booth near the back, the one you and Clyde had your first date in. The photograph of you and Clyde in the very same booth was still clutched tightly in your hand. You hollered a quick hello to Muriel behind the counter and she responded with a quick laugh and wave. The excitement that radiated from you was palpable eagerness as you bounced up and down on the vinyl cushions. 

The gallery wall before you was packed full of smiling faces and you scanned it quickly, looking for just the perfect spot. 

“Ah hah!” you exclaimed as you spied a clear area in between a collage of photographs. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you held up the photograph and tried to line it up as level and as straight as possible. 

The thumbtack made a small thunk as it pushed through the paint coating the wall, and you stepped back on the bench to admire your work, your chest heaving from the sheet excitement of it all.

The tinkle of the bell made you turn back towards the door.

Clyde walked in behind you, grumbling something about how you “never goddamn slow down” before he stopped to stare at you. 

He looked at you quizzically for just a second before he saw what you had done. He whistled low as he sauntered up behind you and hugged you at the waist. “Lookin’ pretty good up there huh?” 

You beamed down at him where his head rested against your hip and ruffled his hair. “Did you think we could leave without adding ourselves up on the wall?”

“Guess you’re right. Looks good with my family up there too.”

“You think your momma would mind?”

Clyde scoffed and tugged you down to kiss you. You laughed against his lips as he smiled and broke from you to look at you from under his long lashes. “Darlin’, I know she’d love seein’ you up there.” 

~~~

You were back on the road right away, and although you were loath to leave, you were also happy to be on the open roads again. You gazed lovingly at Clyde as he drove your car through the West Virginia mountains. It was a daydream - the windows down, music lilting through the speakers, your mountain man beside you. The fresh mountain air streamed over your hand where you dangled it out of the window and you felt the sun as it warmed your body.

It felt weird, the bittersweet twang at your heart as you drove away from Boone County. You still couldn’t believe how much it had come to mean to you in the time you had been there.

But most of all you couldn’t believe what the man sitting beside you meant to you. You turned over in your seat to gaze at Clyde your eyes full of a love you could barely capture in words. As if he could feel you staring at him, he flicked his eyes to you with a raised eyebrow. 

“You alright there darlin’?” 

You hummed as you settled back in the seat and propped your feet on the dashboard. “More than alright Clyde,” you responded. “I feel perfectly at home.” 

And that was the full truth. 

You tapped your toes together on the dashboard as you rolled the taste of that statement around your mouth. “I feel perfectly at home.” It had been years since you had an address to properly call home, but you knew that didn’t matter. 

As long as you had Clyde by your side, you were home.

~~~

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @hopeamarsu @kkysolo @clumsycopy @mylifeisactuallyamess @daydreamsofren @mariesackler (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

~~~

A/N: Holy fuck. It’s done. I genuinely don’t even know where to begin to thank people but I guess I have to start somewhere. 

@mind-p0llution - For so much. Without you, I wouldn’t have started writing, let alone posting. Thank you for encouraging me, boosting my confidence, and encouraging me every step of the way. Thank you for beta’ing chapters and for just being the wonderful human you are. This story wouldn’t have seen the light of day had it not been for you and I am eternally grateful. 

@clumsycopy - For creating such gorgeous art for this story and being so kind to it at every turn. AND inspiring me to keep adding to it! You are such a gem. 

@kkysolo - For being you. You have kept me writing this story just by supporting it so much and have helped me through so many writers blocks and story issues. Thank you for helping make the story what it is. 

@mylifeisactuallyamess @the-sacredtexts @daydreamsofren​ - For helping when I don’t know how to use punctuation and when I write sentences that sound funny! And again, for being the supportive angels you are. 

@clydesducktape​ @hopeamarsu​ and treecreeper86 (AO3) - You have been so incredibly kind about this story and I am just? So humbled by it and your more than generous comments. Thank you for just brightening my day all the time. 

And to anyone who has given this story a chance. Thank you so much for reading it, interacting with it, and supporting it in any way. It’s been nothing short of an absolute joy to put this story out there, and I am still in shock that it’s over. If you have left a comment in on the past few chapters I am so sorry that I haven’t gotten to address them yet, but I am so, so grateful for it, and I will be answering those over the weekend. I am so thankful for all of you, and I really really hope you enjoyed. <3 Love you. And thank you. 

[bloodfromthethorn]

The past is never dead. It’s not even past

Bozer and Riley knew, logically, that Mac and Jack would share some bad memories. They weren't expecting to stumble across one while they were busy planning some R&R over the Pacific Ocean.

Also on AO3 ->

..

Bozer was still getting used to the idea of going on actual, honest-to-god missions for a US government covert agency, but even he had to admit, this one sounded pretty simple. Mac and Jack apparently had some sort of aversion to the word - the instant Riley had said it earlier, the pair of them had looked a heartbeat away from running for the hills - but all of them had had to agree that being tasked to fly to the other side of the world and sit around surveilling a suspected dead drop was about as plain sailing as it was ever going to get. They didn’t even have to confront anyone who approached said dead drop, just record and report it. 

The result was, unsurprisingly, Riley and Bozer planning what they were going to do with the ample free time they were sure to have. Jack had initially made some attempt at reining them in, reminding them that as easy as it may seem, they were going there to do some actual work, but he’d given up some time ago and now seemed content to listen to them plotting in peace. Amused, Mac had just watched the whole conversation play out without a word. 

It wasn’t until Bozer and Riley had spent a solid ten minutes arguing about the possible pros and cons of a natural mud spa that the blonde figured it was time to intervene. “You two know that at most Matty’s going to give us a few hours of R&R before she calls us home. All of this planning is going to go to waste.”

“If that,” Jack put in with only a touch of sullenness. “Remember that time in Trinidad? We didn’t even get a full ten minutes before we had to be back on the plane.”

Mac wrinkled his nose at the memory. His recollection was foggy given that they had more or less crawled back to the landing strip and then passed out the instant they were off the ground, but then, that was really the point Jack was making. “Right? Just saying you shouldn’t get your hopes too high.”

Bozer scowled at them both. “You two have absolutely no faith. I have no idea why Matty thinks all four of us should be on this mission but I for one fully intend to make the most of it. If you want to sit back and be negative, that’s on you.” He let that indictment hang in the air for a minute, then bumped his shoulder against Mac’s. “'Sides, you’re supposed to be helping! You must know all the best sights, right?”

Unexpectedly, that earned him a confused frown. “Should I? Why? I’ve never even been to Fiji.”

Across from them, sprawled out carelessly against his seat, Jack suddenly went rigid. The change was sharp enough that all three of them picked up on it even though the man hadn’t actually moved, staying exactly where he was like a bug under a microscope. Bozer cast a quick glance at Riley but she looked every bit as lost as he did.

Fortunately, Mac was apparently more clued in. “When was I in Fiji, Jack?” He asked quietly, his voice very gentle. 

For a very long moment there was no response. Bozer considered answering the question - he’d asked Mac about tourist attractions in the first place because he remembered Mac had holidayed in the South Pacific with Nikki three summers ago - but he’d gotten the sense that maybe this wasn’t a conversation he should involve himself with. Jack still hadn’t so much as twitched and he could feel Mac tensing up beside him. 

Eventually, Jack answered with a heavy sigh. “July 2015.”

A short pause. “Ah,” Mac said quietly, his eyes darting to an unremarkable spot on the floor for a second before jumping back to Jack. 

The pair of them fell silent, Jack glaring sharply at the ceiling of the plane cabin while Mac watched him steadily. Evidently something significant had just happened, and Bozer had a sneaking suspicion he was at fault for whatever it was, but he didn’t think he could just leave it there. Apparently, neither could Riley. “What happened in July 2015?”

Predictably there was no response, so Bozer offered her the little that he knew. “Mac went on a ‘work trip’,” he said with quotation marks. “I thought he was in Cleveland. Then just when he was due to come home, Nikki called me. Said they were taking a last minute vacation to Fiji and I shouldn’t expect them back for another two weeks. Ended up being gone most of a month.”

At the time, it hadn’t been that weird. Logically he understood that it might sound strange to most people, but Mac had always been a somewhat inconsistent presence in Bozer’s life, even when they were kids. It was just the way he worked: Mac would go where his brain took him and he wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved whatever it was he was hoping to do. In hindsight, that long standing pattern of behaviour must have been a godsend when Mac had joined DXS and Bozer had become part of his cover.

But that was then. Now, he knew the truth of those strangely frequent, unpredictable work trips - except in all the ways that he didn’t. “I take it you weren’t in Fiji,” he asked slowly. 

Mac didn’t look away from where Jack was still frozen. “No.”

“Where were you?”

He hummed. “Not entirely sure, to be honest. I think I wound up somewhere in the Ural mountains.”

Bozer tried to work out the most delicate way of asking further and found none. The deadened tone of Mac’s voice would have made it very clear it wasn’t a happy memory even if the fact that he apparently hadn’t known where he was hadn’t given it away, and his eyes hadn’t drifted from where Jack was looking more and more strained. 

As Bozer floundered, Riley pressed on. “A mission gone bad?”

“In the worst way,” Mac agreed, then seemed to come awake from some reverie. He blinked, and finally looked away from his partner to take the two of them in. Whatever it was he saw on their faces, he visibly made an effort to make himself smile and relax, shaking off the grim set of his shoulders like an unwanted coat. “We were in Minsk, tasked with surveillance on a human trafficker. Turned out that he was more well-connected than we thought, and some of his friends ended up grabbing me out of our hotel room.” His voice faltered ever so slightly and he bit off whatever he was about to say next. 

Bozer did some quick maths and came up feeling ill. “You were gone for a month.”

“I wasn’t with them the whole time,” Mac hurried to reassure, immediately seeing what Boze was getting at. “Jack caught up with me after about ten days.”

“It was too fucking long,” Jack murmured, the first thing he’d said in over a minute. He still hadn’t moved, but he was wearing one of the darkest expressions Bozer had ever seen on his face. “Should have got there sooner. Should never have let them take you in the first place.”

“It wasn’t your fault Jack,” Mac said with the air of someone who had already said it a thousand times, but was willing to repeat it for as long as necessary. “You were on the other side of the city when they found us. We didn’t even know that they knew we were there.” He glanced back at Bozer to explain, “Someone at the CIA leaked information. The target wasn’t supposed to have any idea there were agents in the city, but somehow his guys knew exactly what hotel room to hit. We didn’t get any warning.”

“I knew something was bogus,” Jack said, more to himself than anything. “I said it felt off, and then I fucked off and left you in that hotel on your own.”

“Instinct isn’t everything. We had no reason to suspect the hotel wasn’t safe.”

Jack shook his head sharply and said nothing more. Mac sighed, but didn’t press. 

Thoroughly thrown for a loop and feeling more than a little bit guilty for inadvertently touching on what was so obviously a sore point, Bozer cast a wild-eyed look at Riley. She looked little better than he felt, pale in the harsh white of the plane’s overhead lighting. They’d both known that, in theory, Mac and Jack both had years of service behind them and that those years were likely to be host to any number of bad memories, but to have the knowledge of that so suddenly and specifically confirmed was a lot to take in.

“If you were- there for ten days,” Boze started slowly, half-knowing the answer and needing to hear it anyway, “Why were you gone for so long?”

Mac glanced back down at the floor, looking distinctly uncomfortable before he settled himself. “I was in medical for a bit. Once I could shake the oxygen mask, I moved into Jack’s apartment for a few weeks. I would have been good to come home but there was- bruising.” He fumbled over the last word, waving a distracted hand at his face as though that explained anything. 

For the first time since they’d broached the topic, Jack moved. He jerked to his feet with a strange lurching step, as though he hadn’t expected to do it himself, then marched towards the back of the plane, shaking his head as he went. Bozer caught the tail end of some dark mutters, but he couldn’t make anything out past the stormcloud of Jack’s expression. Startled, Riley shifted forwards to go after him, but Mac just waved her down, watching Jack’s retreating back with a careful eye before turning back to the two of them. 

“He’s okay,” he said, as though that was in any way believable. “It’s not a great memory, for either of us. Despite what it sounds like, he got the worse end of the deal.”

Riley’s eyebrows rose. “You were in captivity for ten days and he had the hard time?”

“I knew he would come after me. He didn’t know what he would find when he got there,” Mac said with a shrug. He’d said it flippantly, like it was some great truth of the universe that was just the Way Things Were. Maybe to him, it was. “Sure, physically I was a mess, but that stuff heals. If I had the choice again, I wouldn’t have switched places with him for anything.”

Bozer was shaking his head slowly, trying to remember details he had brushed off as unimportant years ago. “I remember you coming home. There were bandages on your arm.” A pause, then, accusingly, “You said you got got by a jellyfish.”

Looking down, Mac tugged self-consciously at the cuff of his rolled-up left sleeve, only managing to draw attention to what he was trying to keep hidden. They were faint - so faint as to be almost invisible against his already pale skin - but for the first time Bozer was able to make out a fine tracery of scars marring the skin of his forearm like a spider’s web, twisting all the way from his wrist to beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Jesus, Mac,” Riley breathed. 

“Electrical burns,” he offered as the explanation they wouldn’t have asked for. Catching their thunderstruck looks, he shifted his expression to what he probably imagined was reassuring. “It looks worse than it was, mostly; being shocked hurts like hell but there’s no real permanent damage to worry about. Honestly, most of it was superficial stuff, scarcely a mark left on me. The only reason I was in medical for as long as I was was because they had to drain my lungs and get me on antibiotics in case of infection. Could have been home within a day otherwise.”

Bozer wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Mac that made him think that explanation would do anything at all to allay their concerns, but he didn’t care for it at all. Worse than any of that though was the dawning realisation in the back of his mind that had been growing steadily ever since Mac mentioned moving into Jack’s place. “Except you couldn’t have come home,” he said quietly, needing to hear it for himself. “Because I was there.”

Mac shuffled in his seat, but held his gaze. “A couple of bruises could probably have been explained away, but I was… kind of a mess. Even if you could have believed I got hit by a car or something, all it would have taken was a few screaming nightmares to give me away. No way it wouldn’t have blown my cover.”

He sounded apologetic even as he said it, bracing himself as though he was expecting Bozer to lash out at him for something that had already been long forgiven. Sure, lying to him for years had been a shitty thing to do, but Boze understood why he had done it now, and he knew that Mac had only ever been trying to keep him safe. It might have been the wrong choice, but it was done for all the right reasons. 

“Mac,” he started, uncertain and wounded and so, so guilty, “Mac, you should have been at home. After whatever it was you went though, you should have been able to recover in your own house.”

Mac blinked at him in clear surprise. Did he really not understand? Boze tried again. “I’m guessing that Jack wasn’t the only one dealing with some shit when you got back to LA and I’m not even going to pretend I can imagine what that was like. You should have been able to come home, come back to the place where you felt safe and cared for and-” He sucked in a hard breath. “And you couldn’t, because of me. I chased you out of your own house when you’d been tortured.”

The blonde was already shaking his head, looking stricken. “That wasn’t on you. Boze, that was never on you.” He finally stopped worrying at his sleeve to grip Bozer’s shoulder, tight and grounding. “I was the one who kept the truth from you. I lied to you, for years, and that’s all on me. I know that if you’d known what had happened you would have been there for me and you only weren’t because I didn’t let you.”

He wasn’t wrong and Bozer knew it, but he wasn’t exactly right either. “I get that. But you do know that you shouldn’t have had to make that choice, right? You should have been able to come home Mac.”

Riley was glancing between the two of them looking utterly lost, and Mac was starting to look not much better, so Boze took a slow breath and tried his best to let it go. He had spent years of his life trying to convince Mac that he should rank his own well-being at least somewhere on his list of priorities, and this was really just another piece of that endless puzzle. There would be time to fight that battle later. “I’m just glad you’re okay man. No lasting damage?”

Thankful for the lifeline being offered, Mac dropped his hand away from Bozer’s shoulder and shrugged lightly. “A few scars, but nothing else. Like I said, I had a surprisingly easy time of it in comparison to Jack.” His eyes darted over to where his partner had hunkered down as far from them as he could get. “And speaking of, give me a minute.”

He was on his feet and gone before either of them could even think about trying to stop him, not that they would have done. Bozer had the sense that this was a conversation they had had before, and he knew that Mac would have it handled. If there was anyone who could convince Jack that he hadn’t somehow apocalyptically failed the man he had dedicated his own life to protecting, it would be the man himself. 

“How many stories do you think they have?” Riley asked quietly, soft enough that the others wouldn’t hear her. “All the years they’ve been doing this… How much is there that we don’t know about?”

Bozer thought about the scars on Mac’s arm that he’d never really seen before, about the number of unannounced work trips he had gone on after he came back from Afghanistan. Thought about the number of times he had heard him moving around the house late at night after a nightmare, or worse, the times he’d woken up crying out in panic. He’d known for years that Jack had a protective streak a mile wide and he’d centered it firmly on Mac; before he’d known about the Phoenix, Bozer had always wondered if the man was going overboard. Now, he knew with certainty that he wasn’t. 

When he met her gaze, there were tears in Riley’s eyes. “Too much.”

[seasonsofeverlark]

Operation Push Katniss Over the Cliff of Love

Author: @mega-aulover​

Prompt: The crunch of frost when the mornings first start to become crisp ❄️❄️❄️  [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T

A/N: There are no games. The districts won the war and the seat of power rested wherever the District Tribute won the candidacy for President.  The current president is from District Eight. Katniss takes Peeta out to see nature on a dare or is it a dare? - special thanks to my beta and best friend @norbertsmom who is more than just a beta, she’s amazing.

KPKPKPKP

The light from the Everdeen front porch spilled outside, lighting the three figures that huddled together near some trees. It was safe enough for them to gather outside and talk about their important subject: getting Katniss Everdeen married. Each one had their own reason for being present. One other member, Delly Cartwright, had sent word she would be late. She was roped into planning a fall festival with Effie Trinket, the district liaison. 

Delly wanted Peeta and Katniss to get together. She was the one who inadvertently brought the group together. Gale wanted to prove that Katniss was human, Rigel Everdeen, Katniss’ father, wanted Katniss to be happy, and Prim, her sister, had her own selfish reasons. She’d recently turned sixteen and she wanted her own room. Katniss was always in her business. Prim loved her sister and wanted her to be happy, so when Delly mentioned Peeta had the hots for Katniss, and that they should do something about it, it didn’t take Prim long to realize there was a way to satisfy everyone’s needs.  

“It’s cold outside,” Prim whispered.

The chilly air indicated winter was finally on its way. They had had an unusually warm fall. It kept the trees from uniformly turning right away. Some trees in the district were now displaying the bright beautiful colors, while some of the trees toward the edge of the district were bare. It was as if nature was warring with itself.

“You sound like your sister,” Gale snickered. 

Prim’s pale blue eyes gleamed in the darkness.  “Mama always said never trifle with an Everdeen.” 

“Careful Gale, Prim is sweet and lightness until provoked,” Rigel said, winking at his youngest. He leaned on his cane.  “Now how are we, as Prim said, pushing Katniss off the cliff.”

All three of them had been trying to figure out how to get Katniss and her secret crush, Peeta Mellark together. Peeta worked everyday at the bakery from sunup to sundown since his sixteenth birthday. His father was slowing down. He had had a massive heart attack last year, and Peeta took on more responsibilities at the bakery. 

Katniss not only traded the game she caught, but she also made it into jerky and sold it down at the Hob. Both she and Peeta were very busy people. 

“If Prim hadn’t clued me toward the Merchants I wouldn’t have figured it out,” Gale said stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I knew she liked someone in the Merchant quarter,” Prim rubbed her arms. “Whenever you guys go to Merchant quarter to sell, she always stops here to wash her hands and change. Katniss isn’t one for dressing up unless she has too.”

“I can’t believe I never picked up on that,” Gale rubbed the back of his neck.

“That’s because you, too, were getting gussied up for all of the ladies,” Prim said. “You take longer than Katniss to get ready. Also, let’s talk about your abuse of the orange extract in your aftershave.”

Gale turned bright red.

“That’s enough Prim,” Rigel admonished. “We’re getting off topic. How are we getting them together?”

A loud ruckus could be heard as Delly speedily walked toward the group. “Sorry I’m late!”

“Shhh…Katniss is a light sleeper. She’ll hear you and want to come downstairs and find out why you are here,” Prim admonished.

“Sorry,” Delly whispered, but in reality Delly didn’t know how to whisper. Her version of whispering was using her inside voice. 

“Okay where were we, how to get those two together?”

Delly shot her hand up in the air. Her blue eyes sparkled and she hopped with barely contained excitement. 

“What?” Prim rolled her eyes. She couldn’t understand why Gale was so smitten with Delly. She was like that annoying little lap dog Effie had. Delly was sweet, but sometimes her exuberance could be annoying. Though Delly was loyal and kind. And if anyone said anything about her, Prim would be the first to defend Delly. 

“Well you know how Katniss hates the cold,” Delly said smiling. 

“Yeah,” Rigel said.

“And you know last week Gale and Katniss were bickering about Katniss being late.”

“She claims she wasn’t late,” Gale said, taking his gloves out of his jacket pocket and putting them on Delly’s hands. 

Delly smiled at Gale.

“I remember. She was spitting mad and she’s made it a point of going to bed early,” Rigel said.

“Well,” Delly said, looking at all three of them as if they understood where she was coming from. “You can use Katniss getting up late to get them together.” 

Prim’s mind worked quickly. “Delly’s right, we can use this to our advantage. Delly, you said Peeta uses nature as one of his inspirations right?”

“Yeah,” Delly responded.

“Well, what if we make Katniss take Peeta into the woods.”

“She can take him by the lake. When it’s cold enough, the water condensation freezes and it latches onto the trees and leaves.” Rigel grinned. “I took your mom up there once when we were courting. She called it a winter wonderland.”

“Peeta would love that.” Delly sighed. “A romantic trip into the woods with the girl he’s had a crush on forever.”

“I can goad her in front of Peeta,” Gale said. “Make her angry enough to fall for a bet. She takes Mellark out to the forest if I win, and I have to do something dumb if I lose.”

“Yeah, you know how to push all of her buttons at once,” Prim snickered. She turned her focus onto Delly. “When is the best day for Katniss to take Peeta?”

“Sunday. Sometimes he closes down early or doesn’t open at all.” 

“Okay, Gale do you think you can switch out one of your days off on Thursday?”

Gale gave Delly a look. 

“Gale!” Delly exclaimed, and the others shushed her. “Sorry,” she whispered, then continued, “You can switch, it’s not like we’re going to do anything romantic other than hanging out with your mom. You can switch your Monday for a Thursday.” 

Haymitch Abernathy from District 12 had won the Presidency after the explosion that Gale’s father caused. One of the things Haymitch did when he was President was make the working conditions in the mines better. He also ensured all miners got two days off, as well as yearly pay increases and a paid time off. They also had paid holidays off and they also promoted within. Gale was poised to move up in the mining company. He was pretty smart and had a lot of ideas. 

“Fine,” Gale muttered.

“Thanks Gale, I am proud of you, son,” Rigel said, patting Gale on the shoulder.

Gale looked up to Mr. Everdeen. They had developed a bond, especially since Gale helped his mom raise his three younger siblings. 

“Gale, you can use that you don’t get up early argument,” Prim said.

“Katniss will fall for that. When she gets angry she forgets about being shy,” Rigel chuckled. 

“Right, but how are we going to make sure Katniss is late?” Gale asked, frowning.

“Easy,” Prim grinned like her cat Buttercup when he’d trapped his prey. “I put sleep syrup in her favorite drink.”

“I will distract her enough to make sure she’s really late,” Rigel said. 

“Great, then next Thursday operation push Katniss over the cliff of love, begins.”

Thursday Morning Katniss was surprised when Gale showed up to hunt with her. He said he switched days with his buddy George, who needed the day off. His eldest was Toasting. 

They were approaching one of their last trading stops. Katniss nervously tugged on her shirt sleeve.

“You like him,” Gale said out of nowhere.

Katniss nearly tripped on the stairs she was climbing up. “Woah…”

Gale easily reached out and caught her.

Katniss straightened up and firmly gripped her game bag. “What are you talking about?”

“You like him,” he pointed to the bakery back door right before he knocked.

Katniss was left speechless, her mouth hung open. Her face felt hot from all of the blood rushing to it. She wanted to refute it, but she didn’t have a chance. The ‘him’ Gale spoke of opened the door. Gah, Katniss thought as her heart thumped against her chest at the sight of his flour covered forearms, and sparkling blue eyes that rivaled the color of the lake in the woods.

There were no words to describe why Katniss found Peeta Mellark so appealing. 

He was freakishly strong, with gorgeous blue eyes, broad shoulders, large hands. She shivered when she thought of those hands. Supple hands that were strong enough to rip apart timber and yet delicate enough to create the most intricate of frosting flowers for the cakes he decorated. Katniss recalled the day she caught him ripping wood in half by hand to take out his frustrations at something his mother did. She had stood by the fence staring at him, her mouth ajar and drooling.

“Hi, Gale and Katniss, here to trade?”

Even his voice did funny things to her. His voice was not soft or hard, it was smooth and she died a little when he said her name. Her palms became sweaty and her ability to think rationally went out of her head. Katniss couldn’t even formulate a ‘hello.’ 

Next to her, Gale cleared his throat. Glancing up at him, she saw his shoulders shake, and his lips formed a mocking grin. She realized what Gale said was a trick to get her to show her true emotions. 

Katniss wanted to punch him in the arm. 

“Yeah, Katniss caught some fat squirrels for you,” Gale’s voice taunted. 

Katniss wished the ground would open up and swallow her. How in the hell did Gale know that she had a thing for the baker’s youngest son?

“Oh, great. You guys want to come inside? It’s getting chilly out.”

“Sure,” Gale said.

No sooner did Peeta turn his back than Katniss punched Gale in the arm, hard.

“Ow!” he grunted.

Katniss scowled at him.

“You didn’t have to hurt me,” Gale said with a grin while rubbing his arm. 

“You deserved it, you big oaf!” 

Ever since Katniss turned down Gale’s invitation to run away into the woods a few years back, he’d been trying to get her to admit that there was someone else she liked. Gale had been methodically trying to eliminate the possibilities. He tried several guys from the Seam, then he turned to their own group, the Covey. 

The Covey lived on the outskirts of the district. When the war began the Covey, a group of traveling minstrels, settled in District Twelve. Katniss and Gale’s families were descendants. One of their own became the tenth President. During her brief stint as President she fell in love with a man from the Capitol and ran off. It caused a huge uproar, thankfully her vice president, Undersee stepped in and took the spot. 

The Covey had a tradition of singing and dancing. They mostly lived on their own. Katniss had family that were touring throughout the other districts singing. Katniss had been invited because of her voice, but she turned it down. Firstly, her family needed her, and secondly, she didn’t want to leave because of him. She couldn’t leave Peeta behind. There was a bond between them, an electrical force that drew her to him. 

It began with the bread.

When her father got hurt in the mine explosion, Peeta came over with a basket of bread for her family. The mining company’s compensation toward the injured miners ran out quick. The only source of income was from her mother’s healing business. But with her father’s medical bills, they were drowning and necessities became expensive. They were living off of meager rationings when Peeta brought them a basket of bread and canned goods. 

Peeta must have done it behind his mother’s back because she hit him so hard he missed two days of school. It was this act that caused Mr. Mellark to petition to divorce his wife. Peeta had risked it all to help her family. Katniss could never forget what he did, nor could she repay him for the kindness he bestowed upon her family. 

Through the years she looked for ways to repay him, but one day it dawned on her, she was keeping track of him for more than just the repayment of the food. The more she saw him interact with other people, the more she liked him. She nearly swooned when she saw him in those darned wrestling tights. 

Katniss thought her secret was safe. Until her sister, the little traitor blabbed one New Year’s Eve that Katniss wasn’t into the Seam look. Gale was surprised, but then began trying to look at all of the men in the Merchant side, including the Peacekeepers. He often said Katniss had a hankering; someone she would give her eye-teeth for, like a miner lusting for a cool breeze in the mines.  

Katniss wasn’t sure what he meant by eye-teeth, but using his analogy made her think it meant hungry for Peeta, which in a way she was. 

“Look, just admit you like him,” Gale whispered, elbowing her.

“Grr,” Katniss growled with all of the fake venom she could muster. 

“Why don’t you get all of those juicy squirrels you hunted for him.”

“Gale,” Katniss whispered. “Stop.”

She wanted to pummel him with her fist but he walked into the bakery. 

“GALE,” she squeaked. “Come back here!”

Katniss wondered why the hell they were friends. He was annoying, angry, petty, and infuriating. His one redeeming quality was that he was a good hunting partner, and those were hard to come by. Before partnering with Gale, she had tried to hunt with another hunter named Jed, but it was disastrous. A lynx attacked her and Jed did nothing. He didn’t warn her nor did he try to stop the lynx from attacking her. Katniss was lucky she was such a good shot. She got it in the eye as it leapt in the air. 

Gale saw her shoot the lynx and approached her about joining up with him. Leery, she wasn’t sure she should. His dad was the reason the mine collapsed. He drunkenly set some TNT on fire, blew himself up and caused many miners to be injured, including her dad.

Her dad told her that Gale’s family was hurting. Katniss didn’t want to give in, but then she saw one of his intricate traps and slowly they became friends. Now she wished she’d never accepted his request for friendship.

“Aren’t you coming? Your bread boy is waiting.” Gale winked at her.

Katniss stomped inside, furious at being found out. Gale was going to pay, she hadn’t decided how, but she was going to make him pay for his betrayal. 

“So I know how much you like our nut and raisin bread,” Peeta said good naturedly. 

“Yeah, she just loves your bread,” Gale said.

“Do you?” Peeta settled his eyes on her and Katniss didn’t know where to look. By the heat that was radiating off of her cheeks, she was sure she was redder than a ripened tomato. 

“Yeah, she loves your buns,” Gale kept on talking and Katniss wondered if a court would convict her for killing him. “Your cheesy ones.” 

“You mean my cheese buns?” Peeta’s eyes brightened. “I didn’t know. I’ll add some into the pack.”

“Delly told me you decorate all of the cakes.” Gale changed the subject and Katniss was grateful.

“I do.” Peeta was busily packing things. Katniss took the opportunity to take out the squirrels she shot for him, and then she added a rabbit. 

His brothers moved away to other districts, leaving Peeta as the sole owner of the bakery. Since his parents were divorced, Peeta lived in the bakery with his dad. His father favored rabbit meat. 

“Some of those cakes are complicated,” Gale said.

“Yeah, a cake can take me up to a week to decorate.”

“When are you and Delly going to toast?”

Gale hesitated, turning pale while looking at a dozen leaves in different shades of red, green, gold, and orange before changing the subject. “Do you get the inspiration for the cakes from nature?”

Katniss noticed Gale never answered the question. This was a bone of contention between Peeta’s best friend and her hunting partner. Gale wanted to marry, Delly wasn’t ready. She wanted to date a little bit more before settling down. 

Gale and Delly were such an odd pair. She was this round faced plush girl. She wasn’t beautiful like Madge, who Katniss thought he would have gone for. Before Delly, Madge and Gale used to flirt. It was a little gross to witness. It’s so funny how life worked. When Gale and Delly were introduced Gale couldn’t stand Delly’s bubbly nature. He said she grated on him like a tone deaf canary. Though slowly her generosity won Gale over. Gale told Katniss Delly crept up on him.

“Yeah. I always walk around with my sketchpad and pencil. Though, as you can tell, ever since my brothers left I don’t have time to walk around and observe as much as I used to.”

“Man, you should go to the woods,” Gale said. “The woods get frosty. It’s unlike anything you’ll ever see.”

“Frosty?” Peeta said with wonder.

“Yeah, the frost in the woods is amazing, like a winter wonderland. Katniss here doesn’t appreciate it.” Gale shook his head. “It’s a struggle to get her up on cool mornings.”

“Gale, the animals are still sleeping when you want to go out there,” Katniss grumbled.

“You know that’s not true. The early bird gets the worm. Nature’s teeming with life. They get busy living while you’re all wrapped up warm in your blanket.” 

“You know I get up plenty early to hunt and make ends meet for my family.” Katniss forgot for a moment she was in the bakery. She was still upset with Gale over his trick. 

“Sure you do,” Gale said. 

“I’m there before you are,” Katniss growled. Gale was a foot or more taller than her, but Katniss stood up to him.

“You want to make a bet?” 

Katniss poked Gale’s chest, “I can handle anything you can dish.” 

“Fine,” Gale said. 

“If tomorrow I don’t get up on time,” Katniss wasn’t going to let Gale get the best of her. “I’ll…”

“Take Mellark out into the woods.”

“What!” Katniss sputtered, disbelieving what Gale was proposing in front of Peeta.

“What, you didn’t hear me?” Gale smirked.

“You guys don’t have to-” Peeta said. 

“Mellark, wouldn’t you like to go out there in the woods, and see nature in its purest form?”

“Well,” Peeta said, sneaking a furtive glance at her.

“See, he doesn’t want to,” Katniss harrumphed. The prospect of having to take Peeta into the woods and talk to him was frightening as hell. Anyone who knew her knew she was awkward with people. District Twelve’s old President, Haymitch Abernathy, claimed she had the personality of a dead slug. 

“I didn’t say no,” Peeta said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He didn’t say no, so what’s it going to be, Everdeen. If you wake up early and are in the woods before me, I lose.”

“And you have to tell everyone we trade with I’m the better shot,” Katniss said, narrowing her eyes. She knew Gale hated to admit it. He liked to boast how handy he was with a bow.  

She saw the nerve in his jaw tick right before he answered, “Fine! But if I’m right and you get to the woods late, you have to take Mellark here to the woods to observe the frost.”

Confident she wasn’t going to lose the bet, she came home from trading with Gale, convinced she was going to be fine. Yet out of an abundance of caution, she went to bed early after sharing a cup of tea with Prim. Katniss made sure she was dressed so all she had to do was slip on her boots and get out the door. But when she woke up the following morning, the sun was already in the sky. 

“Crap,” Katniss said. She jumped out of her bed, grabbed her boots, quickly combed her hair with her fingers and put her cap over her head.

“Good morning, Katniss,” her father said from the table.

“Hi dad.” Katniss sat down briefly to put on her boots.

“You’re late today,” her father said as he wrote something in his plant book.

“Ugh, I don’t know how. I know I went to bed early.”

Her father coughed. “Maybe you were tired.”

“Ugh,” Katniss groaned. She didn’t catch her father’s smile. 

“Don’t you want some toast, Katniss?” Her father asked. 

“Sure,” Katniss said, taking a slice of bread from his plate. “Thanks daddy. I’ll see you in a little while.” 

“Sure, Kitten,” her father laughed, shaking his head.

Katniss left and headed to the woods, not noticing her sister Primrose hiding in the corner laughing. Katniss was more concerned about beating Gale. She climbed over the gate to the fence. It had a sticky latch and she didn’t want to waste time fidgeting with it to open the gate. She ran to their spot in the woods, pausing only once to grab her hunting gear. She saw Gale sitting on the rock with a piece of grass in his mouth.

“Darn it!”

“You’re late, Everdeen,” Gale said in a singsong voice.

Katniss wished very much she hadn’t let her anger get the best of her yesterday. Now she had a date with the boy she’d fancied since the tender age of eleven.

KPKPKPKPKP

Sunday morning Peeta nervously slipped on his jacket. His hands shook. He was nervous about meeting Katniss this morning. He thought her to be the most beautiful girl in the district. Katniss was also the most courageous and strongest person in the district. When her father was injured, Katniss went out into the wilderness to hunt. There were a lot of qualities that he admired in her. It made him fall deeper for her. 

This opportunity to actually have the time to speak to her was unforeseen. Peeta wanted to make an impression on her. He wasn’t sure what was out there in the woods and he didn’t want to act like a fool in front of her. Peeta didn’t consider himself a tough guy like Gale; he was more of a pacifist. He could fight if he had to, but he preferred to talk things out before resorting to hurting people. His mother had often called him soft.

There was a point in time he was bullied for being pudgy as a boy. Peeta learned how to talk his way out of situations, and in doing so he learned that a physical altercation wasn’t always the right course of action. He was worried he wasn’t good enough for someone as dynamic as Katniss Everdeen. 

“Stop quakin’, chicken legs,” Delly said.

“Dell’s this is Katniss. What if I act like a total doofus and say something wrong and make her not like me>” Peeta said in one breath.

“Nonsense,” Delly said, packing up a thermos. “Believe me, you can’t screw this up.”

“It’s Katniss,” Peeta insisted.

“I know, I know. it’s the girl you’ve had a crush on since the Valley song way back in grade school.” Delly grinned, “Believe me Peet, Katniss has noticed you.”

“I don’t know,” Peeta doubted it. “She’s never talked to me.”

“What if she’s shy?” Delly asked.

Peeta blinked.

“Do you know how hard it is to walk up to a guy you like and say ‘I think you’re cute, do you want to go on a date’?”

“Well…”

“When was the last time you saw a girl do that?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.” Delly said triumphantly. “Now let’s look at the evidence. She went to all of your wrestling events.”

“Yeah, but those were mandatory.”

“You and I both know your brother’s matches were mandatory, and she skipped all of them. She also went with the Mayor’s daughter to see you practice. I’ve caught her hanging around the train station on delivery days.”

“She could be trading,” Peeta said.

“Nonsense,” Delly said. “You and I both know she shows up magically every time you have to unload the stuff from the train station. The girl doesn’t ogle every guy in the district.”

“Speaking of ogling.” Peeta turned to Delly. “What’s going on with you and Gale? I asked him when you and he were going to have a toasting. He looked wounded. He actually turned pale.”

Delly made a face. “He wants to get married.”

“So, isn’t that what you want?” Peeta was confused.

“It is, it’s just…” She sighed. “Gale is such a womanizer. I am the only girl who has refused to sleep with him. I want to make sure he loves me and is willing to settle into a committed relationship. It took me forever to make him understand that intimacy meant more than just sex.” 

Peeta understood. 

“Okay, so I packed a few blankets and the food you made. You are all set,” Delly said.

“Thanks Delly.” 

“Go out there have a great time, and just be yourself.”

Delly watched him leave. She quickly ran over to the Hob where Gale was waiting. 

“He just left,” Delly said, giddy. 

“Great, then it’s all up to Prim and Rigel now.” Gale nodded.

KPKPKPKPKP

In her home Katniss slipped on her warmest jacket. She wasn’t sure if she looked alright. This meeting was more than just a scenic walk through the woods. She frowned and then it melted into a scowl. No thanks to Gale’s big mouth, she had to take Peeta into the woods. 

What could she, Katniss Everdeen, talk to the most popular boy in school about? When they were in high school Peeta was always surrounded by his friends. 

“It’s kind of late for you to be going out into the woods with Gale,” her baby sister said from the bed.

Katniss had hoped to avoid speaking to her sister. She knew Prim would have all sorts of questions Katniss wasn’t sure she had answers for. “I’m…”

Prim sat up, her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders. “You’re not wearing your normal smelly hunting shirt and pants to go out into the woods.”

“Prim, go back to bed,” Katniss said, turning around. She hoped that her sister would listen. At sixteen her sister was strong willed.

“What’s going on here?” Prim walked over to her, her eyebrow shot up. 

“Ah,” Katniss said nervously.

Prim sniffed the air and gasped, ‘You’re wearing perfume!”

Katniss felt her cheeks burn. There was nowhere to hide.

Prim cornered her. “Katniss Everdeen, you tell me what’s going on this instant!”

Katniss sighed, “I’m meeting someone in the woods, okay.”

“You are?” Prim clapped her hands.

“Shhh,” Katniss said, grabbing her sisters hands. “You’ll wake mom and dad up.” 

“Okay, okay,” Prim whispered. Then her face looked horrified. “Katniss you can’t go out into the woods looking like the bride of a sasquatch!” Prim turned to their dresser. “Let me see, what do you wear for a clandestine meeting in the woods. How does one look pretty in the woods?” She muttered to herself. Then began the questions, “What are they like? Are they tall, handsome? Where do they work? Are they young or is it someone older?” Her sister waggled her eyebrows.

Katniss groaned this was one of the things she was trying to avoid. “Prim. He won’t care what I look like. Look I’m showing him the wooda so that he can use it for the bakery.”

“Eeewww,” Prim exclaimed. “You’re going out on a date with Mr. Mellark?”

“What?” Katniss grabbed her sister before she flew off the handle. “No, that’s just ew, no. It’s Peeta. I’m going to show Peeta the forest. I’m ah…going to show him what the frost looks like.” Katniss let her sister go. She looked down. “He’s not, well, he’s a nice person and…”

“And?” 

“And…he’s cute.”

“Cute?” Prim’s eyes danced. Her grin was wider than the lake in the woods.

“Okay, okay,” Katniss said, lifting her hands in the air. She might as well let Prim make her look pretty. Her sister did have a way with clothing. “What do you think I should wear?” 

“Ohhh, this is going to be great. First off those pants are way too baggy. Lets get you into dark jeans, oh and one of mom’s grey sweaters…” 

Katniss allowed her sister to dress her up. When she finished she was wearing one of their father’s old orange checkered shirts underneath their mother’s knit grey sweaters, dark jeans, and her boots. Prim gave Katniss her navy coat instead of her own. Prim was taller than Katniss and it hung loosely around her frame. She had to admit she looked nicer than before.

They both snuck to the door. Once outside Katniss looked to the path that led to the meadow.

“Okay remember, just let the conversation flow. Don’t try to force small talk. You’re not great at that. One more thing, he’s probably more nervous of you than you are of him.”

“Why would you say that?” 

“Katniss, you do know you’re known as the huntress around here right?”

Prim words caused Katniss to take a moment and think about what she was saying. “What does that mean?”

“Besides the fact that you have the ability to shoot someone through the eyes?” Prim joked.

Katniss blanched at the idea of killing someone. 

“It means you’re a legend in our district. Dad’s super proud of you. When he got hurt and couldn’t work, you stepped up and helped out our family. Believe me, he knows you’re not someone who can be easily swayed or impressed with dumb pick up lines. Peeta knows he’s got to work hard to get into your good graces. He probably has a crush on you but is too shy to tell you. Not to mention, you’re always with Gale and he’s pretty intimidating.” 

Katniss hadn’t thought of that. “You think he likes me?”

“Oh Katniss, I know he does.” Prim smiled warmly. “You’re great.”

“Thanks Prim,” Katniss breathed. 

“Now get out there and show him the forest.” 

Katniss smiled and walked away.

“So did you plant the seed?” Rigel said quietly when Prim re-entered the house.

“Yup,” Prim sat down. “She’s going to meet him with the knowledge that he likes her. That should help Katniss warm up to him.”

Katniss reached the meadow in good time. She waited for Peeta to meet her by the gate. It was a cold morning outside. Her breath came out in puffy little clouds. Katniss gazed up at the heavens, the clouds were gathering, a storm was brewing. 

Prim’s words circulated in her head. What if he did have a crush on her, but didn’t know how to articulate it? She could imagine how it looked to Peeta with Gale hanging around her all of the time. 

She heard his heavy steps approaching before she saw him. The crunch of his boots set several sparrows into the air. 

“Hi,” Peeta said. 

She waved shyly. 

He wore a dark orange knit hat. His wavy blond hair peeked out from the sides and he looked adorable. He also had a knapsack with him.

“There’s frost on the ground,” Peeta said, coming up to her.

“A sure sign winter’s on its way.” Katniss looked at the meadow. There was frost on the ground. It was pretty, but it was nothing compared to what lay in the woods. It was colder today than in the past days.

“Ready?” 

“Sure,” Peeta said.

Opening up the gate they made their way inside. They stopped only once to get her bow and arrows from their hiding place. 

As they walked deeper into the woods, she couldn’t help but smile. The woods was her home, she felt alive here. In the woods, Katniss did not have to worry about society’s demands. Often people found it strange that at the age of 20 she hadn’t married or had a boyfriend.

Her close-knit family and friends accepted her decision to stay alone. Those outside her circle often talked behind her back. Everyone was expected to have a companion. Everyone would be shocked to know Katniss did have someone in mind and he only walked a few feet away from her. 

She snuck a quick look at him and her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped. There could very well be someone that Peeta Mellark was seeing and kept quiet about it. Yet even as she thought this, her sister’s words played in her head. People also gossiped about him. Katniss couldn’t understand why he wasn’t taken. Peeta was compassionate, smart, funny, and selfless. He was perfect, but none of the women in 12 wanted him, and that was okay by Katniss. Peeta never had a girlfriend and by the looks of it, he wasn’t going to get married anytime soon. Maybe he did like her in secret. She wished there was a way for her to know for sure.

“It is very cold out here. I can understand why you want to stay in bed a little bit longer.”

Katniss shrugged. she didn’t intend to talk to him, but then it dawned on her this was the perfect situation for her to get some answers about questions she had. “Gale is so over dramatic. I’m usually awake before he is and waiting for him. What about you, how early do you get up?”

“Well to be honest, I’m downstairs in the bakery before four in the morning. Ever since my dad had his heart attack, I’ve had to do the morning prep work.”

Katniss whistled. “Why don’t you take on someone, an apprentice?”

“Because it’s expensive. We were finally making a profit when my dad had his health scare. His medical bills cleaned us out.”

Katniss understood where he was coming from. “When my dad got injured we had the same thing. Thankfully my mom was his caretaker. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through.”

“I had to hire a nurse to help my dad recuperate. Thank goodness your mom helped out, with all of those free resources and the menu for a lower salt diet.” 

“I’m glad my mom could help.”

“She did it for next to nothing, for that I’m eternally grateful.” Peeta stopped walking, he took a look around the forest.

“I’m glad to hear your dad is feeling better.” Katniss stopped moving. “It must get really hot in the bakery. How do you deal with the heat in the summertime?”

“I sleep with the windows open.”

“Oh,” she said. Katniss didn’t imagine it would be such a simple solution.

Peeta stopped walking. “Wow! Look at all of these colors.”

Katniss saw a tree with red, gold, and yellow leaves. It was warmer closer to town, and the woods that surrounded the perimeter still had some of their leaves. The heat from the mines and the factories warmed the area. The further they got away from the district the colder it got. 

“I can see why you love it out here.” 

They were having an unusually warm autumn. 

“What’s your favorite color?” Peeta asked her.

“Green. Why, what’s yours?”

 "Orange, not like an in-your-face-orange, but muted, like that leaf over there, or your orange checkered shirt.“

Katniss couldn’t help but smile. It occurred to her that talking with him was easy. She thought whoever Peeta dated was a lucky girl. Her curiosity about whether or not he was with someone grew. They walked some more. He asked various questions about how she knew the direction they were heading, and other things that to her came naturally, but that someone who had never been to the woods would be curious about.

“So,” Katniss was working up the courage to ask if he had a girlfriend. 

“Yes?” Peeta asked. 

“Ah…” Katniss closed her eyes momentarily before blurting out, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

She watched him turn red before answering, “I don’t.”

“Really?” The word slipped from her mouth before she could stop herself. 

“You sound shocked.”

“It’s just that,” Katniss stopped to face him. “In high school you were so popular, I was sure there was a girl that you fancied.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, then shyly said, “There is this one girl I like.” He looked her in the eyes. “She’s amazing and I draw her constantly. But I’ve never had the courage to tell her anything. There was a time I thought she liked someone else, but it turned out they weren’t a thing. I guess I chickened out after that.” He shyly said, “I don’t think I’m good enough for her.” 

Katniss felt like she was suddenly a fire that was doused with torrential rain. Of course there was a girl he liked, an amazing girl he held a torch for. “Oh. Okay.” 

“What about you, is there anyone you like?”

Katniss couldn’t smile, she couldn’t even formulate words. Mutely, she nodded.

“Are you thirsty? I packed some hot chocolate for us.”

She looked toward the path. “We really should get going.” Moving was the only thing she could do. Katniss kicked herself the entire route. Of course there was someone special. Why did she have to listen to her sister? Prim was sixteen. Prim knew nothing about affairs of the heart. Katniss wanted to cry for the loss of hope. She held it together the rest of the trek. 

When they came to the lake Katniss stopped walking and Peeta gasped.

Everything was coated in little ice particles. The cold breeze here was noticeable. The condensation from the lake had frozen and latched on to the areas surrounding the lake making it look like freshly fallen snow. Ice crystals hung from the branches, crawled up the tree bark, coated the tall grass. A mist floated up from the center of the lake making it look mystical. 

“It’s beautiful, amazing.”

Katniss smiled watching Peeta get up close to a tall blade of grass. “It’s like they’ve been brushed with ice. It has little ice particles.”

“My dad calls it silver thaw.”

Peeta examined the fallen leaves on the forest floor. His face was flushed and his eyes glowed with excitement. “I never get to see this. I mean, I am sure this happens on the inside of the fence, but I’m inside the bakery most of the time.“

“My dad says no two snowflakes are alike.” 

“Wow,” he said. Peeta whipped out his sketchpad and pencil, and quickly drew what he saw. Loose papers were sticking out between the pages of his sketchpad.

Katniss was amazed by how quickly and accurately he could draw. He was unrivaled; there was no one in the district like him, and she quietly mourned for the loss of what could be. His curiosity and childlike glee at the majestic picture nature presented him would be one of her favorite memories. 

“Do you think we’ll get snow soon?”

“Possible,” Katniss shrugged looking up at the sky. “It’s getting colder out. When it gets really cold out here the lake makes snow. It gets pretty dangerous out here. The snow can accumulate quickly.” 

As he stood up, pages fell from his book. Peeta tried to contain his sketchbook, but various pictures fell down. One of them floated over to her. 

Peeta dived to get it, but was too late. The drawing fell at Katniss’ feet.

Picking it up, she was curious as to whom he had drawn. What she found drawn stole her breath away. The girl in the picture was gorgeous. Then Katniss saw the long braid, the cap she wore on her head. She looked to the other pictures and they were all of her. Peeta had drawn a picture of her, as if she was beautiful.

“You drew this?”

Peeta tucked his sketchbook under his arm and stuck his hands in his pockets and couldn’t look up at her. He shyly gave her a nod.

Her heart thundered in her chest. “Is this me?”

Peeta’s eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly open. He cleared his throat. “I ah…”

She picked up another one. There were pictures of her laughing, others of her eating, one of her sitting by Madge in school. Another showed her with Prim, another with her dad. It dawned on her he said he drew the girl he liked constantly. But she needed to be sure. She didn’t want to make assumptions. Maybe this girl looked a lot like her. 

“Katniss,” Peeta said. 

 “Can I keep it?” she asked.

Her questions seem to baffle him because he gave her a look of wonderment and at the same time puzzlement. “You want to keep it?”

“I mean, if this isn’t me?”

Peeta walked up to Katniss and stared longingly into her silver eyes. As if he was looking for something. Finding it, his face broke out into one of his legendary smiles. “Of course this picture is you. You’re the only girl that I’ve…well…liked.”

“You like me?”

“Ever since we were in kindergarten, when you sang the Valley song. I was a goner then and I’m a goner now. You’re the girl I was describing. I just didn’t know if you felt the same way about me. I was afraid I was projecting what I feel on you. You don’t have to feel any which way about me. I’m okay with that, I just can’t help the way I feel.”

Katniss didn’t know whether she wanted to jump or laugh or run. Instead she took his hand, leaned up on tiptoe, and kissed him on the cheek.

His smile was crooked and his cheeks were flushed. “I think we better get you out of the cold.”

Katniss nodded. It wouldn’t have mattered to her if it was 30 degrees below zero outside. All she knew was she was on cloud nine.

Together, hand in hand, they made their way back to the bakery. They sat down in front of the fire to snack on the cheese buns and hot chocolate he packed for them. They talked and laughed, and for Katniss it was like finding a kindred spirit. It was the start of a beautiful relationship. 

As she left the bakery Peeta held her hand, “When can I see you again?”

“Silly I’ll be back in the morning to trade with you.”

“No I mean,” he shyly gave her a smile, his fingers brushed over her knuckles and Katniss thought she would melt. “When can we spend more time together.”

“How about we have lunch tomorrow? We can meet here at the bakery.”

“Great, we can stroll in the meadow afterwards. It’ll be nice to see the daylight. I’m always stuck inside of the bakery.” He smiled and kissed the back of her hand, and Katniss knees wobbled at the contact of his warm lips brushing up against her skin. Katniss couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow.

When Katniss finally came home she was grinning from ear to ear. Her mother was out attending a birth with Prim.

“Hello,” her father said. “Where have you been?” He was carving a cane for one of her mother’s patients. 

Katniss froze. She wasn’t sure what to say to her father.

“You look like Buttercup when he gets a bowl of cream.”

The heat rose to her face. There was no way she could keep this away from her father. “I was meeting with someone.”

“Oh,” her father said, putting his knife down. 

She sat down. Katniss and her father were close and if she wanted to see Peeta, she needed to sit down and talk to her dad about the boy, no, scratch that, man, she’d had an unbreakable bond with since forever. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Dad, I was with Peeta Mellark. I took him to the woods and we had a fine time.” Katniss sighed. “We spent the rest of the afternoon at the bakery talking. His dad was an earshot away.” Her eyes pleaded with her father’s matching silver eyes.

“You were with Buck Mellark’s youngest son?”

“Yes.”

“And do you like him?”

Katniss didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Her father smiled. “I have only one piece of advice Katniss. Just follow your heart as you take the metaphorical leap off the cliff of love. If your heart tells you to stop or you have doubts, just walk away. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“Thank you, dad,” Katniss smiled and walked away. She didn’t know her father gave her baby sister a detailed report on their conversation. Nor did she know Prim was determined to make sure her sister took that final leap and toasted with Peeta Mellark.

Prim and Gale were on chaperon duty, to make sure the lovebirds stayed in love. Katniss for her part went to lunch with Peeta. Each time she and him were together, she did just as her father said. She and Peeta took it slowly. As she and Peeta grew closer Katniss fell deeper in love with Peeta, while the relationship of others cooled.

Katniss stood with Peeta watching Delly slap Gale in the face.

“Delly, I swear I didn’t kiss her!” Gale ran after Delly.

“I saw you!”  Delly cried and ran inside. Her brother stood by the door arms crossed not letting Gale enter the house.

“What can we do?” Katniss whispered.

“I don’t know Katniss,” Peeta answered back. Gale rushed past them in the direction of the meadow. Peeta held her closer. “What we can do is promise each other to be honest and talk to one another.”

Katniss nodded, what Peeta said was true. Delly and Gale weren’t communicating with one another. Her parents talked all of the time, even about trivial things. Communication, as Prim pointed out one time to her, was the key to a successful relationship. She vowed she would talk to Peeta. And so she did, when she got angry at him, she let him know why. When they didn’t agree, they still talked.

It helped them get to know the other. Adversity could do one of two things, draw couples apart or bring them together. The intimacy between their words caused her hunger for Peeta to grow. They abstained and strained from physical intimacy but it was getting harder for Katniss to walk away. Peeta always seemed to be able to hold himself in check, it was Katniss who craved more.

It was hard for her to keep her hands off of Peeta. It was during this time Katniss decided to take the leap. Though she waited for the right moment, it never came. So she contented herself with simple things like taking long walks. There were many trips to the lake. Many trips to behold the wonder of the woods and it’s majesty. When it got cold and the snow coated the earth they walked hand in hand together facing each new adventure together. Slowly, the cold air became warmer and spring kissed the earth. The snow melted and Katniss and Peeta’s relationship heated up.

They were at her father’s cabin, lying in each other’s arms. 

“Are you okay?” Peeta asked.

Katniss was warm and blissful. Her body still coming down from the flight of pleasure she had within Peeta’s care. “Yes.” 

Peeta pushed tendrils of hair away from her face. “I love you,” he whispered.

Words of love and adoration were no longer hard for her to express. “I love you, too.”

He sat up and reached into his pack. He took out a small necklace that had a silvery gem on it. “It’s a pearl.”

“It’s beautiful.” Katniss had never seen such a beautiful thing before in her life. 

“It reminded me of your eyes.” Katniss sat up and he slipped it around her neck.  As he fastened it he said, “Marry me, be my partner in life. I pledge my love and loyalty to you. I promise to honor, obey, and love you with my heart and soul. I know there will be hard times, but I’ve found that when faced with things together, the burden becomes easier.”

Tears streamed from her face. “Of course I’ll marry you!” She rushed at him and they fell back into bed, a tangle of arms and legs.” 

On the day they married, Peeta made a cake that looked like the wintry wonderland of the forest.

It was as they toasted that Prim and Gale and her father were looking all too much like the cat that got the cream.

“What are you three grinning about?” Katniss asked.

Her father coughed, but said nothing. Gale avoided looking at her. It was Prim who spilled the beans.

“Katniss, don’t get mad at us, but we were tired of seeing you make moon eyes at Peeta. So we came up with a plan. Gale was supposed to get you to make a bet to take Peeta out into the woods. I was in charge of slipping you sleep syrup that night, and in case you woke up on time, dad was in charge of making sure you were late getting to the woods.”

Katniss couldn’t believe what Prim said. She wasn’t sure if she should be angry, but then a strong pair of arms wrapped around her middle and she didn’t care. This, after all, was the happiest day of her life.

When Gale walked away Katniss turned to Peeta and together they asked, “Okay Prim, how do we get Gale and Delly hitched?”

Prim grinned, “Well I have a plan…” 

The End….well maybe? 

[amethystpath-writes]

If you have the time and motivation for this, would you mind writing about the hero finding out the villain has been dating his sister? And the sister has no idea but the villain is like taunting the hero with public displays of attention and gushy romance things. The hero can’t do anything bc he thinks the villain will hurt the sister if he says anything about it. You can decide whether the villain actually loves the sister or not :)

I have been excited about this idea since I read it. Thank you, nonny!

******

Pulling up to the curb, Sister pushed the door open. How long ago did she unbuckle? Hero wondered. He hated how- how…uncaring she was. It wasn’t so much about her hurting other people with her carelessness as it was about her hurting herself. Hero loved Sister, which meant he hated to see the path she was taking. She was going to get herself killed, maybe not by going on dates, but with all her other tendencies; things like getting into car crashes at sixteen, going to skateparks in the middle of the night, and the general rebellious thing she had going on. Hero wish she could understand that the reason he was so overbearing was because their parents weren’t at all. And he wasn’t a helicopter brother; he just wanted her to be safe.

Hero turned the key counter clockwise and pulled it out, before getting out of the car himself. Now was the moment he’d evaluate Sister’s boyfriend. Yes, evaluate. If the guy Sister was dating was some jerk or something right off the bat, Hero would make him leave. He’d- uh- puff his chest and…and do the intimidating stuff.

Truth be told, Hero didn’t know how to come off as intimidating without using his abilities, but no one knew about those, and no on could know. He had watched too many movies of people with weird powers being taken and experimented on or tortured or other terrible things. It’s why he and Villain took things to rooftops, or otherwise amidst destruction where they couldn’t be seen. But that wasn’t the point! The point was that Hero was about to meet the person his sister was spending so much time with.

Sister was running up to one of the tables of the small ice cream bar, and when she got there- or to the person there- she wrapped their arms around a man, and as he looked up, Hero felt his whole body freeze. He felt his hands shake as the man- Villain- dragged a hand up and down Sister’s back, taunting Hero because he knew the shock it would cause.

It was Villain. Villain was coddling Hero’s sister right in front of him, and he even made eye contact while doing it.

After a few more frozen moments, Hero took one- two- steps forward. Villain watched, not ceasing his teases. At one point he even full on glared at Hero, stopping him in his tracks. Hero didn’t know what to do but to remain where he was and watch. He nearly spoke, opening his mouth to break it up, to get Sister away, but one flick of Villain’s hand on her neck stopped him.

The two kissed, not too awfully long- certainly not a make out session, but it was too long to be considered a peck.

“Oh.” Villain’s gaze caught Hero’s again, and he smiled. “This must be the brother you have mentioned a time or twice.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” She gave a small laugh, adjusting her shirt, as it’d become somewhat crooked, and turning to face her brother while still standing beside her boyfriend- who now slid a hand behind her before settling it on her waist opposite of his own side.

Hero swallowed. Should he talk? Initiate the conversation? But with that hand on his sister’s hip…it was a threat. Villain could take off with her any second.

Or maybe he just loved Sister.

No. No, of course he doesn’t love Sister. That was a ridiculous idea and Hero couldn’t believe he even thought of it for a second.

“You never said he was mute.”

Still not knowing whether to speak or not, Hero only took very slow and deliberate steps forward toward the- the couple, if you could even call them that. “When do I need to pick you up?”

Sister’s face scrunched up. “What? You suddenly don’t want the cone and taco you made me promise to buy you before you left?” She laughed and crossed her left arm over her chest so that she could place her hand on Villain’s shoulder. “You don’t approve.”

She thought it was because Villain was wearing raggy clothing, a shirt with purposefully torn holes and bleached pants. No. That wasn’t the problem at all. Someone who looked as Villain did now was exactly Sister’s type, and they weren’t all shitty people. It just so happened to be that this one was. And this wasn’t the clothing Villain typically wore either. It was a lie, a façade, to lure Sister in. It worked.

Villain’s hand began to draw circles on Sister’s side. Hero had to take a deep breath. Another warning, or threat, or whatever you wanted to call it, to Hero to say the right thing, to play a role in the act. “I didn’t say that,” he settled for. Easy, simple, neutral.

“Your face is saying that,” Villain said. Hero could have sworn Villain held up a one with his fingers for a moment. He felt his heart thundering in his chest.

“Why don’t we all order our food and sit down, hm? Clear the air up a bit.”

It wasn’t a request or a suggestion. It was a demand.

Hero didn’t realize his jaw was clenched until he opened it to speak as he walked toward them at a proper talking distance. He kept his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were fisted. “Right. Not a problem at all. Sister, I’ll order for you. What do you want?”

She looked up at him, then Villain.

“I told her I’d pay, but if you’d like to go order for yourself with me, then that’s fine. Maybe we can get to know one another a little more. Do you want to pick a table for us, mi amore?”

Wordless, Sister left to do as Villain suggested. Now it was just Hero and Villain standing out in the wide open.

Villain was the first to begin walking to the order line. Hero followed two steps behind, too nervous to be any closer. He didn’t think Villain was stupid enough to act out here, but it was hard telling- especially if he was apparently willing to date Sister. Hero still couldn’t believe it. The denial would have been stronger if Villain hadn’t been actively cluing threats.

“I have really rendered you speechless, haven’t I?”

Hero said nothing.

“Go on, say something. Do you think I plan to rip out your tongue?”

No. I think you might snap my sister’s neck. “What are you doing?”

Villain gave a small chuckle. “Did you ever consider that maybe I just like your sister and that’s why I asked her on a date today?”

“I considered it, then found it unlikely.”

He hummed. “Well, you’re right. I don’t despise her, but I would have no interest in her if it didn’t dig under your skin. It’s funny, the way you find me to be so threatening. A touch on her wrist makes you think I’ll break it. A touch on her neck, and you think I’ll dig my teeth into her throat as if I were a vampire and she my prey. What else, hero?”

“You would do all of those things.” Straight to the point.

“Is that what you think?” Villain smiled, stepping forward in the line now that some kid finally decided to order three scoops of various ice creams with sprinkles and syrup on top- no cherry though. “Perhaps. That only means you should continue to tread carefully. I’d hate for you to twist an ankle.”

Hero was becoming more frustrated than worried now. What was the point in all of this? The only thing Hero could come up with was that this was Villain’s form of a punishment…for looking for him, Hero assumed. But why was that such a big deal? Maybe Villain was up to something and needed Hero off his back; dating his sister and threatening her nearly every moment was the solution, and it was somewhat effective.

Silence followed through the rest of the line until they made it to ordering. “You used to buy her the toppings options,” Villain said to Hero before looking back to the person taking his order. “Add some rainbow sprinkles on top.” Having finished the order, Villain handed over a twenty- Did he just hold up a two with his other hand? - and told the worker to keep the change- all five dollars and thirty-six cents. Turning back to Hero, he began again. “She misses those times- when you actually tried to spend time with her.”

Gritting his teeth, Hero said nothing. Villain knew the reason he didn’t talk to his sister- or any of his family. Hero was busy looking for wherever Villain was hiding out when he wasn’t going into cities and attacking people from above.

They waited for their orders after Hero paid for his, and as they did this, Villain spoke up again, “You’re thinking about what to do in this scenario.”

“I’m not thinking about much of anything actually.”

Villain hummed. “I would be head over my heels in thought. I must have really boggled you up there.”

Hero said nothing. There was nothing to do.

**

Bringing the food and ice cream back, the date went as any would- with the exception that Hero was now a part of the date. It was originally meant to only be Sister and whoever her boyfriend was- which as Hero knew now, was Villain.

They all chatted like good friends, and Hero was warned subtly a few times to watch his displeased facial expressions. The unhappy expression usually only happened when Villain would hold Sister’s hand and all Hero could think was, He’s going to crush her bones. He’s capable of it. One squeeze is all it’d take. They also frequented when Villain put an arm around his sister’s shoulders, draping a hand almost carelessly. Again, Hero’s thoughts would get the best of him. Fingernails in her arm, river of blood. What did he think Villain was exactly, Hero wasn’t even sure, but evil was an easy way to define him.

Sure, they both had abilities, but only Villain was sadistic enough to ever use them against people powerless and defenseless against it. He never did it where he could be seen, but- well, Villain was unpredictable, wasn’t he? Hero certainly never expected the guy to start dating his sister. It was possible he really would hurt Sister in public.

“Hero, what did you say you do for work again?”

He swallowed. Hero could out Villain right now, just say it in the next moment and no one would expect it. And it was outlandish enough that it would be surprisingly unquestionable. Some things you just couldn’t lie about. It wouldn’t even need thought, though, because Villain would deliberately prove it…by concussing Sister with a tiny flick.

“I work with the Containment Justice Department in town.” This was what Hero told everyone, mostly his family. It wasn’t so difficult to lie about anymore, except that now Villain was smiling with the brightest beam of amusement.

Containment Justice Department, Hero could hear Villain mocking him.

“Interesting. I thought you had to graduate from some police academy or something to do that.”

“I excelled.”

“Right. Sister said you dropped out of high school. Suppose that’s why I never saw you in the halls.”

Villain tucked a piece of hair behind Sister’s ears then brought his lips to her cheek. She smiled and pushed him away playfully. Hero held his breath.

What could Villain possibly do with a kiss? What deadly thing could come out of that? His creativity was shrunken at this point, exhausted. This had been such a long day, and the sun was setting. Hero was stressed beyond relief, he felt.

“How long have you two been together?”

Sister opened her mouth to answer, but Villain beat her to the punch, his lips still on her skin. “Next week will be a year.” He put a hand on her chin after drawing his own head back just barely to make room for movement, then dragged her head to him until their lips were almost touching. “Isn’t that right, mi amore?”

A blush rose in her cheeks before he kissed her, and this time it was longer than when she and Hero first arrived.

“Right, well it was nice to meet you. Sister, we should go before it gets dark.”

“Um, I was actually…” Sister began, but trailed off.

“I’ll bring her home later tomorrow.”

“We should go home now. It’s dangerous out at night.” Hero added, “Not just for her sake, but yours.” Hero only included this for two reasons: (1) Villain would have silently scolded Hero, threatened him- or his sister, he supposed- for not wishing good will for Villain, and (2) because Hero needed his sister to agree with him, to want Villain to go home so that he was safe since they were a couple and couples cared for one another.

“My house is well lit. I think we’ll be okay. But I do hate to drive at night. Astigmatisms,” Villain said, “nasty things. Are you ready to go, mi amore?”

She nodded, and Hero didn’t know what to do as she began to stand. Sister couldn’t go to Villain’s home; she might never come back. What if he killed her? Hero didn’t know where he lived, and that meant there would be no rescue. He had to stop this now. But he couldn’t. Because if he tried to, Villain would act out now, and he’d probably find a way to make it Hero’s fault.

“You win, okay?” Hero rushed out as the distance between he and Sister and Villain grew. “You’ve- uh- been there for my sister when I couldn’t be. You are a…” Hero grimaced. “You’re a good guy.”

Villain licked his lip before dragging it in with his teeth, then looking at Sister with only his eyes- no tilting of the head, no action Sister could see.

“Thank you for taking care of her. Drive safely.”

And that was all Hero could do to ensure any amount of safety; admit defeat. Admit the Villain one, and maybe he would ease up, maybe he would break the tie he made with Sister, let her be free, even though she didn’t know she was caught to begin with.

“Will do.” Villain tossed a hand in the air- a careless goodbye.

Hero felt his heart drop. What did the carelessness mean- if anything at all? There was nothing he could do about it anyways. Villain won. Hero could only hope- maybe even pray- that Villain would show mercy. Until then, Hero hopped in his car, and before he took off, he turned the ringer on on his phone. It was the least he could do. If Sister was in trouble, maybe she would text or call him, and he would be there in a heartbeat after she told Hero Villain’s add- That’s it!

Hero opened the messaging on his phone and clicked on Sister’s name. ‘What’s his address? Just in case something happens.’ he typed and hit send.

Not a moment later, Hero received a text back from Sister, reading, ‘Seriously? How dunce are you?’

Another message as Hero began typing. ‘That’s three.’ it read. Hero squinted his eyes, looking up at the brake lights in front of him. A hand was stuck out of the driver side window. Three fingers were held out. And then? The car in front of Hero surged forward, wheels squealing with the highest screech he ever heard.

“No!” Hero fumbled with his keys, trying hard- maybe too hard- to put in it the ignition slot. “No, no, no.” He glanced up and down, watching as Villain’s car sped off until it turned out of sight. “Dammit!” Finally, the key slid in, and Hero started the car, speeding off just the same as Villain did just two minutes ago, but by the time he turned on the street Villain had, the car was gone, his sister with it.

******

Requested Part 2 here

[snarkymonkeyprime]

Oh hai; more of the sci fic weirdness that is eating my brain.  No Dean here but maybe plot?

Given how little had resulted from the autopsy, Castiel went with the only lead he had; that of the former Councilwoman’s successor, Balthazar Severin.  To his annoyance, the flamboyant civil servant was currently not in his offices nor at his home; he was instead traipsing about with donors and other hangers-on in an over-priced, gaudy ballroom in one of the grander buildings downtown.

He bit back an annoyed groan as he called out the address.  The car’s communication screen flickered and announced pleasantly, “Please buckle up for safety,” before sliding into the fast-paced traffic of the early evening.  

As he rode, Castiel pulled out his case tablet, flicking through the information he’d gathered. Rebecca Errol had been hounded by scandal in the last few terms of her Seat.  Everything from purchased votes to greased palms over development deals.  Little wonder why Severin had managed to be win by such a large gap.  Not that Castiel saw much difference.  The Council had long since been a localized but fully corrupt replacement of local governments.  Only really shocking concept was that states continued to function at all.

A half hour later, he arrived at the ballroom.  He left the car and it dinged as it sped away, searching for a parking space. Given it was Friday and relatively early, Castiel believed his car would simply end up circling until he called it back after his interview.

I hate the city, he admitted.  He ignored the valet’s look of superiority and flashed his ID screen.  The man’s face paled and he gestured rapidly.

At least some things still work.  The wide entry to the ballroom was brightly lit and full.  He didn’t stifle the look of disgust.  All this opulence and for what?  Ego stroking?  The amount of money spilling from the crystal chandeliers and elaborate buffet tables would certainly be better served elsewhere.  Not that he could voice such an opinion.

He asked about quietly, seeking the newest councilman.  He found him rather by accident, talking with a tall brunet nearest the open bar.

Both men turned at the same time as Castiel stepped close.

“Councilman Severin? Might I have a word?”

Before the man could respond, the younger, taller one held out a hand.  “I’m Sam, his attaché.  You can make an appointment with his office in the morn-“

Castiel held up his ID screen.  “It’ll take only a few minutes.”

Balthazar tapped Sam on the shoulder and inclined his head to the left when the man looked back.  “I do so love it when he’s aggressive.”  He grinned at Sam’s annoyed squint.  “What, Agent Novak, might I do for you this fine evening?”  He sipped his drink, pale eyes on Castiel’s.  

Maybe I just hate people, Castiel grumbled.  He pulled out his case tablet.  “Last night, Rebecca Errol was murdered at her campaign headquarters.”

“So sad,” Balthazar muttered.  He waved away Sam’s groan of protest.  

“Might not be the best reaction,” Castiel pointed out, hiding his smile at Sam’s look of no shit he threw at Balthazar.  

“You’d have a harder time finding someone who liked her over someone who didn’t,” Balthazar drawled. He shrugged.  “In any event, I don’t know why you’re bothering me with this news.”

“Councilman Severin, you have to understand why I’d be asking.”  Castiel fought back a yawn.  He didn’t truly believe the man had anything to do with her death.  Even the idea of hiring an outsider appeared laughable. Balthazar was many things but from what little Castiel knew of him, he was too lazy to engineer assassinations over something as small-time as a Council Seat.

“Please, call me Balthazar. You make me sound so old,” he wheedled.  

“Fine.  Balthazar.  You’re an obvious suspect given your past in regards to Errol.”

Balthazar pulled a face. “Oh, yes; she and I were fond of our public tête-à-têtes, were we not?”  He held his half-empty glass loose in be-ringed fingers.  His gaze wandered the room, flickering about like a moth distracted by a wildfire.  One could think him well beyond the intoxication of the socially-acceptable; but Castiel could see the pale blue eyes that roved were still sharp and clear.

Balthazar caught his look and smirked, before swallowing the last of his drink.  “My condolences to my predecessor but you’ll no doubt find I have not been in her presence – or in fact, near her base of operations – in nearly a fortnight.”  He didn’t lift his gaze from Castiel’s as he replaced his glass with a full one from a wandering waiter.  He looked away then to peer at his drink, shifting it under the myriad lights of the ballroom.  “In fact, I would believe she has been rather naughty these last few months.” He let the glass dangle from his fingers.  “Perhaps those avenues are better traveled?”

Castiel ignored the question.  “Have you ever actively hired Alters?”

Strangely, Balthazar glanced at Sam before answering.  Any sly humor had tempered as he responded.  “I don’t seek them out, no.  I may have hired them in the past but not with any intent.  Mods are rarely so useful to require purpose.”  His flirty, drunken behavior vanished entirely.  He stood straighter, glass forgotten in his hand.

The man was a chameleon. Castiel could see why he’d been able to win the election so handily, even with Errol throwing money at every corner. Balthazar appeared to be expert in behaving exactly as expected or desired, no matter the venue.  But beneath that shifting exterior peeked a cunning awareness that Castiel found far more interesting.

“Why?” Balthazar asked, tone low.

“Her killer is thought to be one.  He, uh, removed her mods.”  She didn’t have many.  One in her left ear for communicating with staff and cash card chips on the back of her right.  He showed the crime scene, her right arm ending in a bloody stump and the left half of her head torn away, exposing bone and brain.

“Bloody hell,” Balthazar breathed, his face pale.  That reaction alone was enough to convince Castiel that Balthazar had no hand in her death.

The other man took effort to tear his eyes from the photo.  He cleared his throat and pushed Castiel’s tablet down and out of sight.  “I may not have liked the woman but I never wished her dead.” He turned to Sam and leaned in, whispering low.  

The other man frowned but nodded.

He turned back.  “Why do you think an Alter is involved?”

Castiel flicked through his tablet, pulling up the same distorted image he’d shown the shop owner at Winchester Station earlier.  “This.  This was the last person seen around her compound before the morning when her body was found.”

Balthazar grimaced.  “Unfortunate looking soul,” he muttered.  He shook his head.  “I am genuinely sorry she suffered like that, but I’m afraid I’ve nothing to offer.”  He held out his empty hand.  “Nor have I seen that man before.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Sam took the tablet from him, frowning at the image.  “Do you think her mods had anything to do with it?”

“Not at present, no,” Castiel replied slowly.  He retrieved the tablet.  It was an avenue he was considering and found it interesting that a councilman’s attaché had clued in so quickly as well.  Everything about the crime scene spoke of a serial killer with intent.  This wasn’t an assassination.  He’d taken his time with Errol.  Careful and methodical.  Though, his superiors were quick to indicate anything but.  To them, the easiest and cleanest answer was a political argument turned bloody.  Castiel feared it something more.

It resembled two other unsolved cases he had.  In far too many ways.  The grotesqueries.  The destroyed mods.  The time.  He hadn’t exaggerated when speaking with the shop owner; he was certain this killer targeted Alters.  And given Errol’s demise, apparently even ones with minor mods.  Which meant more than half the population at this rate.  

He eyed Sam, watching his reaction.  “Do you have information?”

Sam blinked in surprise. “Er, no.  Sorry.  I just . . . her body getting damaged like that.”  He drew his hand along his mouth and shuddered.  He coughed and looked toward Balthazar who watched him carefully.  “I’ll, uh, have flowers sent to her office in the morning, Councilman.”

Balthazar nodded, a slight smile on his lips.  “So thoughtful, Samuel.”  

Castiel turned off the case tablet and returned it to his coat pocket.  “Chances are, it’s as you intimated; an enemy of hers.  Possibly angry over her election loss.”  He tugged on the collar of his coat.  “I’d be more suspicious of you, Balthazar, if she’d died before votes were cast.”

Balthazar’s grin was cold. “Indeed.”  He raised his eyebrows.  “Well, if I’m no longer needed?”

Unwilling to consider the avenue closed, Castiel nodded.  “For now.”

There was no missing the narrowing of pale eyes.  “Do help yourself, Agent,” Balthazar purred, gesturing to the excess around them.  “As a dutiful servant of the Council, you’re more than welcome.”

Castiel worked a hollow smile.  “Thank you, but no.  I’ve still plenty of work to do.”  He touched two fingers to his temple in a false salute.  “I’ll be sure to leave a message with your office when I’ve more to discuss.”

“Until then,” Balthazar murmured, raising his glass.

Castiel felt two pairs of eyes on his back until well out the ballroom’s false opulence.  He glanced over his shoulder as he headed toward the street and noted both men were now huddled together, the taller one’s hands motioning quickly in agitation.

He frowned.

Something there.  Something to pursue.

Outside, the cold musty air a boon compared to the stuffy confines off the ballroom, he tapped a code on his wrist.  The medallion he wore there vibrated and quite quickly he heard the soft hum of his car as it approached.

He slid into the vehicle with a grunt and directed it to home.  A fruitless day, in the end.  He’d done little more than unearth new questions.  He tapped a code into the console of his car, opening his private computer link.

“Yes?”  The soft, male voice filled the cab of the car.

“Run a search on Winchester Station.  I want to know who owns the building, who runs it, anything.”

“Yes, sir.”  A click and the AI disconnected.

He rubbed his jaw, wondering why his instinct wouldn’t let him risk the public channels.  Why only the ones provided by his old friend, Gabriel. Paranoid, maybe?  Yet, some quiet part of him knew it a wrong turn to use the Department’s servers.  Given their insistence on this being an assassination and Castiel knowing it spoke of worse, he figured he may as well give in.  For now, at least.

He sighed and ground his knuckles into his eyes.  “I’m turning into him, probably,” he muttered.

Thinking of Gabriel reminded him that he owed his friend a visit.  Maybe Gabriel had heard something.  Or knew who might have performed the killer’s mods.

Or knows who performed the shop owner’s.  He sat back in his seat, eyes unfocused as street lights and head lights turned into streaks of brilliant white and gold.  Something very strange there.  Mods so well hidden were expensive.  And if that were true, why would someone with that kind of financial access work in a backwater repair store like that?

He sighed and shut his eyes, settling in for the long drive home.

“What I wouldn’t give for an ordinary murder.”

[comfy-whumpee]

170

@whumptober2020​ Day 18: Panic attacks. TW: slavery, dehumanisation, drugging mentions, implied parental abuse.

A request for @wildfaewhump​, who wanted to know more about Arden. Here’s the full story.

Taglist: @lonesome--hunter​, @iaminamoodymoodtoday​, @wildfaewhump​, @ishouldblogmore​, @lektricwhump​, @that-one-thespian​, @raigash​, @burtlederp​

It had never happened before. But then, it was only batch fourteen, and there was a first time for everything.

“170,” Pete said, crouching down opposite the teenager with his arms wrapped around his head. “170, look at me.”

He waved a hand, and the guards started clearing out the other trainees. Their reactions were standard, fear and anger and confusion, but this is...beyond what he expected.

The boy had shaggy black hair around a thin, undernourished face, and Pete knew from his recruitment profile that he was running away from his home life, spending hours each day walking the streets to avoid having to go back. He needed feeding, but he had stamina, and should be grateful for a chance at a life.

That was all Pete knew. It was all he ever knew, nothing else was meant to matter, but this time... He needed a little more.

With a sigh, he sat down, crossing his legs on the concrete floor. 170 was bent over his knees, curled up like he was expecting a baton any second. Pete considered him for a moment, and then laid a hand slowly on his shoulder.

The boy flinched, whimpered, but didn’t pull away. After a moment, he even looked up. Scared blue eyes peeked from his face, made bigger by his haggard cheeks. When Pete only smiled, and didn’t move, the boy settled. Gradually, his breathing slowed.

Pete kept his hand resting on the bony shoulder, letting it be a warm and reassuring weight. “That’s it, 170. You’re alright. Can you tell me what you’re afraid of?”

170 didn’t correct his name. Didn’t object. He didn’t even seem to realise he’d been taken captive. “Mm, I can, can b-behave, sir. I can, I can be quiet and-and respectful. I can behave, sir, I can b-behave, quiet and r-r-respectful, please...”

The words were fast and tumbling, but the repetitions clued Pete in. These were rehearsed. He’d begged before, enough times that the words came naturally. There was already a break in this trainee, made by someone much earlier in 170’s life. Perhaps the reason he was jobless at nineteen. Perhaps the reason he was willing to gamble everything on the chance to have a job.

“You’ll do all of those things,” Pete agreed calmly, smiling in reassurance. “If you don’t, I have ways to make you.”

170 flinched and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Pete didn’t know who put this into 170’s head, but he didn’t care. It was a way in. Not the burrowed holes of repeated conditioning, like the others, but a chasm in 170 through which Pete could stroll at his leisure. And the fact 170 was answering his questions - it was like being handed a map.

“You’re going to work now, 170,” he said gently, kindly. “Work hard, and you’ll never be hurt, never go hungry or be left in the cold. Can you do that?”

The eyes were wide with surprise, and then earnest gratitude. It was a shockingly naive expression. “Y-Yes sir.”

“Do you want to work or not?”

“I do, sir, I-I want to work, sir.”

And just like that, he’d made two months of progress.

-

170 was an anxious, but very dedicated worker. The Teacher praised him frequently. When 170 went into one of his episodes, where he couldn’t breathe even though nothing was wrong, and expected to die even though he was fine ten minutes ago, the Teacher didn’t shout at him. There was no insulting or hitting or kicking out of the way, as he expected. The Teacher cleared a little space, crouched down, and laid a hand on 170’s shoulder. With his other hand, he moved 170’s breathing in and out. His voice was low and soothing, and afterwards, he didn’t rush 170 back to work.

“I know that when you’re going again, you’re going to work twice as hard as everyone else,” he said instead, and 170 does his best to make that true.

And then, at the end of the day, the Teacher went between the cells with the water bottles and the bottle of pills. And when he came to 170, he merely passed him a clean bottle of water, and smiled, and went to drug 171.

Success was measured by those moments, the pause as he decided what to give, and 170’s relief showed he knew it. Nobody else had this responsibility. It was a few days before he realised that what the Teacher had given him...was trust.

-

“You’re not like the others, 326.”

Arden stood by the door, listening while staring straight ahead. The Teacher had been spending a lot of time with this one recently, and Arden wasn’t sure about it. It seemed different, a special focus that went beyond the norm. It seemed worrying.

326 hadn’t been drugged. That was the other scary thing. He sat in his cell and stared at nothing, but he wasn’t dosed to make him compliant. He just did what he was told and worked hard anyway. He could have already be sold anywhere in Arden’s opinion, and have as good a life as a slave would hope for.

But no. The Teacher was still in his cell, talking to him. Just...talking.

“You don’t need any encouragement. You know what your future looks like without me. I won’t need to drug you as long as you can keep that up. “

It was the first time this had happened. Arden felt his chest tightening painfully as he realised the Teacher had met someone else. Someone he liked more.

Arden would no longer be wanted.

-

“What are you doing, Arden?”

It was a certain kind of voice. A voice that said Arden, but meant 170.

Arden dropped the baton to the ground on instinct. 326 didn’t move, even to try and grab it and retaliate. He just sat, nursing the hand that Arden had hit. His head stayed down and his eyes stayed low. It was Arden who was shaking.

“He tou-touched me, sir,” Arden stammered out on realising the Teacher was waiting for an answer. “H-He touched my arm, grabbed it.”

The Teacher looked at him for a long moment. Then his gaze moved to the captive on the floor. “Is that true, 326?”

“No, sir,” the trainee said dully, without looking up.

Arden’s breath caught as the Teacher looked back to him, disappointment sitting deep in green eyes. “Good. Well done, 326. I expected no less.”

326 finally looked up. “Sir?”

The Teacher smiled, relaxing as though he had never been angry, although he was, Arden could feel it, could taste it in the air like the sudden quiet of birds when a predator nears. But the Teacher smiled. “An important test for you. To obey your owner, even at risk of harm. To be honest, not to fawn.”

The trainee blinked, then nodded, head dipping down in the suggestion of gratitude. Arden couldn’t breathe, but he turned anyway, and followed the Teacher out, knowing he would be reminded, again, how hard he should work to stay Arden, and not 170.

-

“Don’t fucking touch me you sadistic fucking shitstain!”

Arden looked up with a sinking heart. 392 was supposed to be having his dose, but he was kicking off for a fight instead, thrashing and biting the guards, trying his damndest to land a kick somewhere it would hurt. He always did this when they approached him, always looked for some way to ruin everyone’s days with his misbehaviour.

Arden didn’t like 392. He was scared of the man’s anger, at the rage buried in him so deeply they weren’t sure they could get it out. The rage exploded in every direction and Arden didn’t want to be the subject.

“Piss off!” There was the sound of fighting, bodies moving and fists into flesh. It would only last a few minutes, but fists on flesh always made Arden nervous, made him think of a distant past, or of the Teacher training him to beat down the captives, over and over until he didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think about it anymore, just hit whatever he was told to, however hard the Teacher wanted. Arden didn’t like that part of himself.

392 appeared in the doorway and Arden moved on trained instinct, grabbing him by the arm and then the neck, half-pivoting on a foot, and throwing him back into the cell. The guards inside descended on him again.

“Fucking freak!”

That one was aimed at him, wasn’t it? Arden shuddered, and focused on his breathing. He wouldn’t have a panic attack here, in front of the other guards. They would only laugh at him, at what he was.

-

“The problem was never 511,” the Teacher said slowly, his whole face lighting up with the realisation. “Don’t you see, Arden? We’ve been duped. The person pulling the strings was 510.”

Arden nodded, although he didn’t understand at all. This batch, though they’d taken a long time, seemed to be nearly finished. 510 never acted out. It seemed strange that the Teacher thought he was the problem. “What should we do, sir?”

“Continue as we are, of course.” The Teacher smiled, and Arden felt the same relief he always did, confirming that he wasn’t disappointed. “Keep a hard line with 511. Accept no disobedience, no reluctance, nothing. He’s gone, and we all know it, but it’ll keep 510 off balance. He’ll lose his focus on himself. He’ll fall too.”

The Teacher had been doing this for...five years, since Arden had come to him, anyway. He knew all the ways to break someone. Arden was just the tool he used. They all were – even the other trainees.

Arden had never seen someone who didn’t break, eventually.

-

510 was back, and different. He broke back down into who he was quickly, but Arden watched him in quiet moments and recognised the old steel underneath. He’d put himself back together while he was free and now he was holding on.

The Teacher beat him. Put him on display as an example. Took him home to be his wife’s new dalliance. Threatened to kill him.

None of it worked. When Arden drove 510 to his grave and opened the boot, the eyes that met his were intelligent, wise and steady. Clearly they hadn’t bothered dosing him enough to last the journey, but... This was more than just clarity. There was no disorientation, no confusion, and there was barely any fear. It was just 510, watching him from where he was folded into the back of the car.

“Hi,” he said. His voice rasped from disuse and dehydration. “Can we talk?”

-

“Can we talk?” Leighton’s gym trainer said, the man his father had hired to toughen him up.

“Sure.” Leighton dropped his water bottle into his bag and slung it over a shoulder. “What’s up?”

His gym trainer was one of the few people in his life that he actually trusted. Most people he met were his dad’s kind of people, not interested in weakness or emotion, more likely to break something than shed a tear. But Arco was cool, and let him vent about stuff on the treadmill.

“I know you’re looking to get out of your dad’s house,” he said. He didn’t know the details there, how bad Leighton had it, but he’d seen bruises. “A friend of mine is looking for someone to work for him. Odd jobs and stuff. I asked him to consider you before he opens interviews. Are you doing anything after this?”

“Mm, no.” He was meant to go home, but it wasn’t like he wanted to. The chance to earn money to get away was too tempting.

“Amazing. I’ll let him know to meet you outside.”

“Thanks.”

It didn’t convey the gratitude he felt for the impromptu, casually-offered help, but Leighton meant it. A chance was a chance. Escape was an escape. One more person in his life who would take his side over the old man.

He met the employer, got into the car, and never came back.

-

“You were abducted,” 510 said. His name was Ty, he said. He was sitting up in the boot now but still not moving, not raising his voice, as Arden had insisted he do. It hadn’t stopped his words. “He kept you at the compound, but you’re still a slave.”

Arden wasn’t sure he’d had a conversation like this ever before. It was strange. It was like he was the one in control, and 510 - Ty - was the Arden. Listening, responding, occasionally suggesting ideas. “I wasn’t sold,” he pointed out. “I’m an employee.”

Ty looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded. “An employee. Do the other guards get paid?”

“Yes. I’m still – working off my sale price.”

“Do the other guards go home?”

“Yes, but, I don’t have a home to go back to.”

“Are you allowed to leave the compound?”

“Of course. I drove you here.”

“How about outside of work?”

“Well... He taught me to drive.”

“That’s work, Arden.”

He didn’t like this. It was prickling at his thoughts, twisting up his feelings. Was it important that he didn’t leave or get paid? Wasn’t it just the conditions of his release, of not being one of the numbers anymore?

510 didn’t speak while Arden thought. He watched, frowning in – in concern. He was so strange. Nobody had ever worried about Arden. Even the other guards just treated him like a slightly weird colleague, not talking to him much, passing comments about his role as the Teacher’s attack dog and nothing else. They all knew how he had come to work there.

“It’s better than being a number,” he said eventually. It felt like a pathetic blow. He couldn’t think straight, questions crowding his head.

“I’m sure it is,” Ty agreed calmly. “I can see that you’re grateful for it. But it is still captivity, still slavery. You deserve to be free. You could be free, if you wanted.”

Arden didn’t want to be free...but he didn’t stop 510, either.

“You leave the compound for jobs like this one. One day, if you wanted to leave, or wanted to save someone, save the batch and all the batches in future... You could go to a police station instead. They have an open case about the Teacher, did you know that? They’re looking for him. You could be helpful. And you would be protected.”

He couldn’t imagine it. He didn’t even know what he’d say. He’d just have to tell them...everything, and hope they could make sense of it.

Ty was smiling, just faintly. Arden wasn’t sure anyone but the Teacher had smiled at him before.

“You could do it today. Right now, instead of killing me. Wouldn’t that be amazing? To free yourself?”

Nobody asked him questions like that, either. His chest felt so tight with an emotion he couldn’t name.

“You’re going through something horrible. You deserve an escape. If we go now, I can help you. I’ll make sure they keep you safe.”

Was this what it felt like, to be treated as your own person?

“And after?” he asked, and his voice was breathless, weak. It always sounded weak, like he was asking to be told what to do. One man’s orders had dictated his whole life for so long. “What do I do after?”

There was sympathy in Ty’s stare. No numb blank gaze, no spitfire hatred, no grinning defiance like 511. Perhaps this was how 510 had created the most difficult batch the Teacher had ever had.

“After, you can do whatever you want.”

What did he want?

He couldn’t breathe.

“I want...”

The words didn’t finish.

“Take a deep breath, Arden,” 510 soothed, and he sounded so much like the Teacher, and the world was tilting askew.

“I want to work,” Arden said thinly, his heart pounding against his chest. “I want to work. I want to work, I’m, I’m-m g-grateful to b-be able to work.”

510 said something else, but Arden didn’t listen. He wasn’t supposed to listen to the trainees. He got up, feeling the anxious energy build up, remembering how he’d been taught to let it out. He grabbed 510 by the shirt and yanked him forwards to the ground, and kicked him hard in the ribs. He wheezed, more words, lost to the noise in Arden’s head, and he kicked again, and again, a scuffing melee of boots on bones and heavy breathing, until blood tinged the air.

His skin boiling wet with exertion, Arden stepped back. He should finish it now. He knew 510 was meant to die. He should do it. It was his work, and the work was never done.

He was the attack dog and he was so lucky to be permitted to even see another person.

510 looked up at him, and his lip was split, his eyes were swelling, and his hands were mangled from trying to defend himself with broken thumbs and fingers. His voice was rasping, wheezing with pain. “I-It doesn’t have t-to be t’day,” he forced out, blood spilling from his teeth. He coughed, red splattering the dirt under him, and tried to sit up – but his arm couldn’t hold him, and he thumped down onto his side.

Arden felt very, very small.

“Y’can still save yourself,” 510 murmured breathlessly into the dirty grass under his cheek. “Can end ev-verything, Arden.”

But he didn’t want to. He wanted to work. He was a guard, an employee, a slave, the Teacher’s pet, it didn’t matter. He was Arden and he had to work.

But he didn’t draw the knife.

He got back into the car, and drove away.

[brideofcthulhu10]

The Lost Boys Find Out Their Fem!S/O is Pregnant [3/4]

Guh, this one has taken the longest so far. Dwayne is such a strong silent type, and unfortunately got the least lines in the film so I had to really push myself to get into the right mindset. I think it came out fantastic, I hope you guys love it too. Now it's time for:

DWAYNE

Rays of light were beginning to crack through the little nooks of the ceiling, a slow sunrise ushering the vampiric quartet into the depths of the hotel ruins for a long anticipated rest after another wild night. The last to go was your night bird, Dwayne. Calloused hands dragged on your cheek, stealing away any kisses he could. You savored the smokey scent his hair carried and nearly giggled at how his stubble tickled your neck.

"Dwaaayne, I'll still be here tonight," you insisted, gently nudging him off. "Go inside before you burst into flames."

He chuckled with a wide grin, taking one last kiss. "Alright, I'll be back. 6 o'clock on the dot, as soon as the sun goes down."

"It's a date."

You watched him scurry into the cove, pushing past collapsed beams and cobwebs. How they could sleep in that you would never know. Still, that meant you had an entire day to kill before they would be up again. A long, boring day.

You had stopped verbally complaining long ago, every time you did David would insist if you just let Dwayne bite you, this wouldn't be a problem. But you just weren't ready. At least, not yet. The night was so alluring, and every day you felt yourself wanting to be beside them more. However, you still had some final days to cling to. Maybe it was just the fear of making such a massive change. Cowardice.

Just waiting around the cave quickly grew boring, laying atop the bed that once housed Star and Laddie now eerily vacant. You tried to pass the early morning hours by flipping through magazines, listening to your portable cassette player- yeah, you knew it was going out of fashion, but CDs were so expensive, and you were not about to let the boys steal a $200+ player just to listen to Mötley Crüe on a slightly different player. You'd brought your own entertainment after so many visits, but you soon groaned when you realized it was only 10 am. There were still 7 and a half hours of waiting to go, and you were nowhere near tired enough for a nap!

Maybe a quick walk would kill your boredom, a quick snack on the boardwalk, pick up the guys something to munch on before they go out hunting. Yeah, that should be good.

With a soft grunt you scooted off the bed, wedging your feet into your boots with your backpack slung over your shoulder. "I'll be back soon," you whisper out loud, looking over at the dusty hole they'd disappeared into. Dwayne definitely couldn't hear you, but it still felt nice to give a little goodbye every time you went out. This time you'd use the cave entrance that led up those old wooden stairs. The walkway was a gorgeous deck barely over the water. On high tide it could wash over and hit your feet. Part of you was amazed it was still standing after so many decades of wear and tear.

However, the moment you looked outside it made your eyes squint, weighing heavy on your brow. Was it always this bright during the day? 

It got significantly worse once you were fully outside shuffling around the debris littered across the rocks. It wasn't just your average tired eye sting. That was pretty common after spending all night out, and half the day in a dimly lit cave. But you'd never experienced it like this. It was a splitting, throbbing headache that almost made you lose your footing. You had to close your eyes just to feel any kind of relief. Noise was amplified- Oh god, those stupid seagulls made your ears ache! 

Walking just made it hurt more. It was taxing on your body, like wading in molasses in August. Now, you weren't a stranger to the heat. After all you grew up on California sunshine. Almost thrived in it. Now you barely made it up the stairs atop the cliffside, until you just had to sit down. Wedged tightly against the banister you reveled in the tiny slivers of shadow that cascaded from the wooden railing. When your jacket became to much you peeled it off to use for cover, and eventually you forced yourself to continue walking. What was happening?? Those few steps were enough to make your stomach wretch and twist with starvation. Truthfully you hadn't been eating well lately, everything just made you nauseous. Stomach flu, maybe. Why was the ground spinning..?

And that was it. The next time your eyes opened the last bits of sun were long gone. Something- no, someone, was shaking you, trying to snap you out of that fog. They yelled out, nearly swinging you around like a ragdoll in a panic. It was muffled, you could hear another voice, then another.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

"Dude, you keep shaking her like that, she's gonna break something."

"What is she doing out here in the first place anyway, man?" 

A huge breath of life reanimated your body, almost screaming as you sat up crashing into the chilled chest of Dwayne who still had you in his arms. "Hey, easy, easy. You're okay, it's just us."

Quickly your eyes darted around. Dwayne's arm was hooked under your back elevating you off the ground, Marko was knelt on your other side with Paul leaning on the smaller vampire's back. David was just behind Dwayne with arms crossed, looking down at you. 

"You know, Y/N, if your bed was uncomfortable we woulda gotten you another," Paul teased. 

"Dude," Marko questioned, lightly elbowing him in the ribs. 

"Ow. Aw, c'mon I'm just kiddin'."

Dwayne still wouldn't set you down, pushing sweaty locks of H/C from your face. "What happened," you managed to ask in a raspy voice, carefully shifting your weight onto your butt. 

"We found you out here, I was hoping you could tell us," David answered with a cigarette clenched between his teeth, a small flame roasting the end into ashy cinders. 

"I honestly couldn't tell you. I only wanted to head over to the boardwalk for an hour or two. I thought I could pick you guys something up on the way back but..," you held the side of your head, the remains of your headache still lingering from earlier. "My stomach hurt all over and.. I just fell."

Something just wasn't adding up, enough that David paused, looking at you. Your heart beat was calm but… every other beat an entirely new rhythm would chime in. Rapid, quiet, stirring. "You sure you hadn't been with anyone else, Y/N?"

"What," You questioned, immediately offended by the implications of that question. Unsurprisingly, Dwayne was equally outraged as he helped you onto your feet. 

"Y/N isn't like that, you know this David," he snapped. Dwayne always had that sulking gaze but it wasn't often he was legitimately upset. With his arms still around your waist you could feel his muscles tighten into cement. The atmosphere was so thick you could cuz it with a knife, and after a few minutes of intense glares… Dwayne's eyes widened. 

He heard it too. Faster than your own heart beat, buried deep below it was almost too soft to hear. A pulse submerged in water.

He had been so busy worrying about your fainting, he never realized why. It made sense the more he thought about it. Grabbing you, he spun you around to face him. He hadn't intended to be so rough that even Marko was telling him to ease up. "You swear.. you swear you haven't..." The suggestion was cruel. He didn't want to even say it out loud, and your face twisted into one of disgust, slapping his hands off your shoulders.

"Alright that's enough," you snapped, stepping away from all of them. "What is with all of you?! Is this just how you guys check up on people who faint, accuse them of adultery? What the fuck?!"

You could feel tears forming in your eyes and you immediately had to look away. You were not about to show weakness while angry. Dwayne gently took your wrist before you could storm off, looking deep into your eyes. Why did he look so afraid, even in the inky night you could see something haunted those chocolate orbs. "Dwayne...What's going on…," you asked again, this time softening your tone. David, easily sensing the building tension, cleared his throat. 

"Marko, Paul, let's wait inside."

"Aw what," Paul chimed in, arms up in the air. "No way man, I wanna know what's going on! What's with all the crazy??"

Marko looked at David, then back and for between you and Dwayne. Oh. He got it. While Paul still protested, Marko slung his arm over his shoulder and yanked him down to whisper in his ear. At first he looked utterly confused, but then his face went wide. The realization of the century. "Ohhhhhhh," he finally said, looking over at you. "Gotcha. Good luck babes, we'll give you guys a little alone time." Both blondes had these odd smirks on their face, no doubt clued in on the inside joke you were definitely a part of yet left completely clueless. David followed them down the steps with a smug grin, giving a small wave. 

Alright, now you were confused. Dwayne didn't speak though. He just clasped your hand tightly in his. All he said was "c'mon" while lightly pulling you along. The moon was so huge tonight in lit up the ocean, a sea of stars dipped in black. There you both sat, legs just barely hanging off the edge in utter silence. Whatever it was must have been weighing heavy on his mind because he never turned to look at you. Instead he kept your hand firmly clutched in his own, staring straight off into the unknown. His sigh broke the silence, fingers tightening around your hand again. "There's more than one heart beat… coming from inside you."

It took a moment for what he said to sink in. Another..? What did that-...

Oh. That's why they were being so weird. It was hard to breath, like someone was sitting on top of your chest. And now what haunted Dwayne's thoughts now crept into your own. Their suspicions were reasonable. No one figured that.. well considering the boys were undead it wasn't exactly expected for you to..

"Dwayne I…," you started, looking at him. "I've never been with anyone else. You know that, right?"

This time he couldn't speak, just nod in agreement. Of course he knew you were loyal. Honestly he never doubted it, but the shock of what that meant was a bit much for him to handle. He'd taken care of Laddie alongside Star for years, even before he turned, he was great with kids. But the thought of fatherhood never really crossed his mind. Were he human it'd be common sense, he'd be at the proper age. Maybe even already have a family.

But he was 19. He just… happened to be 19 for a very long time. Quietly he pulled you by your waist so you were beside him, then nudged your head onto his shoulder. You weren't scared, just in awe. For a moment you brushed your hand over your abdomen. It was warm, already firm to the touch. In the months to come you knew it would grow, your baby would grow. But in that moment, as Dwayne's calloused hand placed over yours feeling that little life stir inside you, you felt at peace. That was that. You two sat there for what felt like hours, watching the waves, watching the moon rise high above. It really was a beautiful night. A perfect night. The first night of many more to come.