#they throw up a picture and go '' this character should transition!!!!'' and I look at the character and I'm like:

[amplexadversary]

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[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel

Eighth Intel | Before

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman, Toxic Relationship, Obsession, Menticide

Words: 4k (What's a drabble again?)

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

 ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■  “Bell” ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■ 

Day After Ukraine Mission

16:07 | February 28th, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN” 

“You do that a lot.”

You start from what you were staring at, the codes that are so tricky and you feel so close. The intel from what you have in your hands adding a piece to the puzzle that you’re enamored with—the complexities satisfying a carnal part of you that you can’t name. Your head turns to find Lazar’s curious yet amused smile, close to the television they used sometimes for the news not at your usual spot at the too small desk with the too large computer; at the center table instead is where you chose to haunt. 

“What?” you reply dumbly, too out of your element to say a more snarky reply. The transition from focused on the task to this interruption from the man that is more of an Eema than an Abba due to how hearty he looks and feels and making sure everyone felt the same by also stuffing their face. 

“That.” You were met with Lazar’s finger in your face. You resisted the urge to stare cross eyed and instead gave him a more inquisitive look, eyes searching. Which only humored him more, releasing a chuckle. “You have quite an intimidating stare.”

You push the hand away, scoffing,

“What? At my work? Isn’t that like everyone else?”

Lazar hummed, his eyes glittering at a joke you can’t understand.

“No. You have that type of stare that will freeze lesser men. Or get slapped by someone who thinks you’re looking for a fight. Or get you put into an asylum. Only, when you decode, you have an insane smile on your face. It’d be creepy if we didn’t know you.”

“Uh huh.” You dismissed, eyes glancing at the medical office. “You should work better on your compliments if you want Park to have a drink with you.”

If Park wasn’t in the medical office room along with Adler, you’re sure Lazar would throw his old cup noodle at you. Alas, he only gave you a dry “Ha. Ha.” with a neutral expression but still didn’t leave. He wants an answer. 

You turn to him fully, elbows leaning back against the desk, petulant.

“I doubt I smile like how you describe…” Lazar snorted while you frowned at him, before shifting your gaze back to your papers. “I don’t know. I just…love puzzles. They’re fun to solve.”

“Is that what makes you stare so intently?” Lazar leaned against the television, the stand slightly creaking at the movement, his intrigue seeming sincere. Another question hidden, two subjects being asked for one answer. A wall. “The thrill?”

Is that what love is to you?

You tapped at the papers, biting your lip in thought. 

“Maybe a part…I just have this need to figure things out. To open it up—to find the numbers, the letters, the riddles. In an order that is random but it’s not. It’s just a trick. A shadow on the wall. A reason for each piece. Each hint. Every piece of the puzzle has its purpose. It’s reason for being.” You didn’t notice when you started smiling, the topic consuming you like books and pictures do. But you just kept going as you grabbed your pen and fiddled with it, miming writing numbers or letters. “Like Sims with mechanics, I think. Or you with bomb wiring. You find the hardy wires or broken pieces—and I untangle it all. I even love how difficult it could be if I find a cipher intellectual. It’s fun.”

“Sounds maddening,” Lazar replied simply, brow raising. “And painful. Maybe even obsessive.”

You shrug, staring deeply at your own pen, tone far away. As if you were speaking about another topic than this. Something other. Like a secret.

“That’s love, isn’t it? Pain and obsession?”

“Your books tell you that? Or you come to that conclusion yourself?” You pressed your lips, silent. Only glancing at Lazar(are you easy to read?) who only smiled gently before switching gears and letting out a booming laugh. “With that description of love—you very much implied Adler is in love with our friendly neighborhood Perseus.”

Your jaw dropped, a gasp being released as you sat up rigid in your chair. A defense for Adler and a denial ready only for a startling guffaw to join in.

“What the shit are you talking about, Lazar?” Woods comes from his previous spot practicing with the boxing bag, Mason side by side with his own amused gaze as they come close to the center table. Woods snorted as he leaned back against the table near you instead of taking a proper seat. “Can you imagine our own Robert Redford switching spit with a commie? Ha!”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Mason quips to his friend with a nudge while Woods expression quickly changed to offended with no heat as he pushes Mason back with a disbelieving snort. “What? Sorry I’m airing out your fantasies.”

It was strange watching them. The easy back and forth quips and teases. Lazar felt like a warm hearth and home cooked meals compared to Mason’s steady kindness of a worn animal despite its past and Woods…

You briefly think of the night prior, how charged he felt out in the field. Not eager for it yet…willing to take everything and anything out his way. But his friendly taunts and words to you too. The arcade. The room where you got the intel and the knowledge he had of you, knowing you would’ve loved to play around more with the tech and computers there if the both of you had time and not world ending doom.

You weren’t impressed by his skills. Skills are to be expected in this line of work. People can call you cocky all they want.

But how personable he is? That was different.

It was unexpected.

(Why did it feel like he’s more close to you than Sims right now? Why has everyone been so disconnected from you? Even—blue fire for eyes hidden by the shaded wall, wheat dancing in the wind, artful cracks across a canvas—)

A hand waved in front of your face, your eyes broken from its lost look as you blinked back to the present.

“Hello? Earth to Bell?” Woods was still next to you and you couldn’t help but notice that Mason moved away with Lazar to where Lazar’s station is. Still talking with friendly smiles and easy atmosphere. You blinked again before turning towards Woods, who looked at you with a mix of amusement and concern. “What happened there? Did you even listen to a word I said?”

You didn’t. You’ve been doing this a lot. Getting lost in your head. Your brain foggy and mind distant. Not as quick as you usually are. You thankfully haven’t had this happen in the field. You hope it stays that way.

Instead of giving a straight answer, your lips only rose in a dry smile.

“Sorry, was thinking just how you got the guts to punch Hudson of all people.”

Woods huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back, brushing your shoulders as he did. 

“Doesn’t take guts to punch a prick.”

“No,” your smile turns up a tad, more mischief. “Takes some balls instead. Can’t have balls without a prick nearby or there’ll be trouble.”

Woods made a choked sound, as he stared at you dumbly before slapping the table and releasing a loud boom of a laugh. You wonder how he does that. So loud. So free. 

“You got more spunk than I thought, Bell. Guess you need it to even get the idea to escape in a Ruskie tank.”

You huff out your nose, but your chest still lightened at the praise. Your smile coming easy now and tension completely fallen away. You hid it though as you turned back to your work, picking up a stray picture of the Ukraine base you took.

“Did it for you. I figured you would want to run some commie’s over.”

“Oh, I’ve dreamed of it. I would say top five of my favorite wet dreams.”

You couldn’t help it. You snorted, it bursted through your chest and it didn’t stop, only turned to a laugh. You put a hand over your mouth to try to contain it but Woods satisfied expression only made you laugh more.

“Why—why did you say that?!” You try to collect yourself but you couldn’t. Not when Woods waggled his brows as if in answer. “Pfft—should I even ask what’s top one?”

Woods shrugged. 

“No can do. Gotta protect your innocence somewhere. My mind is a crazy place. Don’t wanna scare you off.” You snort again, shaking your head at him and tried to get back to work. Woods didn’t move as you stared around at the different pictures you took with Intel. “Say, where’s the random pics you took of me?”

“Don’t worry, Woods. I didn’t take out a camera with you over the mannequin—“ You stopped when he shook your shoulder, a warning gaze that only made you bite back another smile and only glare at him with no heat as you pushed his hand off. “Calm down,” you say quietly. “I haven’t said anything. Scout’s Honor.” You raise a hand as if to show.

Woods rose a brow dubiously.

“Were you even a Girl Scout?”

“Doubtful. Looks like you just gotta hope I don’t open my mouth about it.”

Woods grunted. Yet still didn’t leave. 

“Do you normally take pics of everything and everyone? Even on missions like that?”

“I like it. I like taking pictures. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You did take a few of him before you took a picture of the base. It was nice lightning and he looked good. “I can give you the pictures I took to you, if you want. They were good shots.”

“I suppose I can add it to my scrapbook.” Woods joked before shaking his head, his eyes turning more curious as the conversation went on. Gaze more assessing as he stared down at you. “Nah, it’s fine.  Don’t mind you keeping them. After I take a look of course. I guess I’m just asking…what’s the obsession with the camera? Film is precious right?” At your shoulder tensing, you starting to get defensive, he quickly changed tactics as he rose a hand in calming manner. “I ain’t judging. Just curious. Couldn’t help but overhear Park talk to you that Adler doesn’t like wasting resources. Or some shit like that. I don’t get the big deal. But it must be if you keep doing it despite them having a stick up their asses about some film of all things.”

Your brows pinched together, gazing intently at Woods eyes. You don’t see a reprimand. Or exasperation. Or even amused exasperation, like you were just being cute while doing something disobedient—like a pet jumping at their owners even as they tell them no with an amused smile. (“Always the one who never listens. Huh, Bell? Didn’t I tell you before about the pictures?”) He’s being sincere in his interest. It was his expression that did it.

You looked away, eyes taking in the safehouse around them. 

“Ever feel like a ghost in your own body?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Woods answered roughly. You nodded next to you, him taking that as permission that he can finally properly sit next to you. You didn’t mind thighs or shoulders brushing. Comrades now. Both of you throwing your lives on the line. Getting shot  by a common enemy brings people together no other way can. 

“Well, the coma did a number on me. I don’t remember much. I can’t put a story to scars on my body. My life, my memories—it’s only Vietnam.”

“Fucked up thing to remember. That whole war was a shit show,” Woods provided. “You must’ve been young.”

You only hummed, distant. Eyes straying in the direction of the red room. Your skin prickled in goosebumps, ears falsely hearing shots and napalm strikes. You shuddered but hid it by clenching your fists on the table, eyes on your jumbled words of your work. 

“Yeah…Hue City was just the start of everything going downhill…But I guess my point is…” You don’t know how to properly say it, you can’t find the English word for this. Esurient for memories erased. The feeling of not quite fitting in everyone’s circle, even with Sims. Monachopsis. (Are you even here at all? It’s like they stare past you.) “Life is memories. I don’t have any. What’s a person if not memories? So…I don’t feel…like it. A person.” You shrug casually, mutely. Hand wandering to a picture, thumbing it. “Ghosts don’t seem to remember stuff besides a deep motive. That’s what others believe. But…with pictures…pictures are for memories. If I take pictures, I’m actually taking memories. And if take enough memories…” You struggled once more how to explain but Woods was sharp despite his looks.

“You’ll be a person again.” Your eyes darted towards him, giving him a minute nod as he seemed to consider your words with a tilt of his head. The silence between the two of you wasn’t stifling, just…there.

You felt like something was released from you. 

Unlocked. 

The key was just for someone to ask. 

“Hey, listen—“ you turned at the soft touch to your shoulder, and you noticed Woods looked uncomfortable about the atmosphere you created. Not used to sharing open emotions like this no doubt but still had what appeared like care in his eyes. “You should really talk to Mason, he—“

Your ears honed in on the medical office opening, your eyes quick to follow as your head swiveled. Everything turned silent as your eyes settled upon the body you can recognize even in the thickest of jungles or deepest of wet rice paddies. And as your eyes settled, your thoughts of ruminating toska and the sense of lacuna dissipated.

You were so busy trying to catch what Adler was saying to Park beside him, you temporarily forgotten Woods next to you. You could hear him talking. Some form of advise. 

You turned back to your work and absently nodded with a quick smile to match at him. Your lips moved to say thanks. You think you did.

You didn’t see Woods throw another look of concern towards you, of suspicion. Turning something over his head.

You forced your ears to stretch, as if with force you can have super hearing. With brute force you can have the arcane man with valleys upon his visage, with liquid nectar that bounces with voluminous silk, voice of gravel that leads to the path of victory and makes your mind hazy. 

You still had a pen in your hand, tight as you looked down with a frown at the papers. Your leg beginning to bounce under the table. Impatient. Restless. Athirst.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Adler called out(Beckoned, Signaled, Enticed—trinket waved like a treat. Your nepenthe.) clearly, more loudly than how he was talking to Park. You didn’t turn your head as he walked out the door near the garage door, too obvious. But you did sneak a look when he exited, stealing gaze right when you saw his back before the door closed.

Except it didn’t. A small rock held it ajar.

A secret.

“What the hell?” Woods was bewildered, staring after Adler while you tried to hide the fact. Waiting a beat. Or two. Your leg bounced under the table, growing more insistent. “Doesn’t he get his fix in here anyways?”

You heard Lazar answer for Woods, something about Adler needing a change of scenery sometimes. You can see in your peripheral his glance. You ignored it as you stood up to head back to your computer desk.

“I’m taking a break too,” you say, quickly picking a book from your pile in the corner after a brief deliberation.

“Uh…” Woods face would’ve made you laugh from how scrunched up it was as he stared as you quickly fixed your work papers back in the center table, book under your arm. “Isn’t that what you were doing? Like fuckin’ a second ago?”

“No,” you answer, organizing the pictures and quickly scanning them before you do so. “Lazar interrupted me from my work. And then you did. It was an interruption. Not a break.”

“You sure turned prickly,” Woods said in answer.

You pause, seeing Woods was somehow offended. He just doesn’t get it.

“Says the cactus,” you quip with a quick smile, twitching up more at Woods huff out his nose. “I…like taking my break the same time as Adler,” You decide to answer the question in his eyes. He did listen. “It’s what we’ve always done. I read. He smokes. And right back to work we go. It works better this way.”

You didn’t wait for his reply. 

You didn’t even bother to see if he was about to.

You have the book in your hand, and you have your tether(Your eyes looks for the sun tanned gold even though it should blind you, but you never cared for your wellbeing. Protect the quiet monster like a demon enraged. Demon for monster. Monster for demon. The coin. You keep it in your pocket, whelve it—the whispered confession—the gravity of your ustulation and agastopia can burn through your pockets and skin all it wish. You keep it in. Like the pain killers Adler gave you earlier for your migraine after their meeting with Hudson about Ukraine.) outside. 

You open the door and without looking, you went to the left side of the door that’s by some unused pallets. Sitting on them and opening your book to your last point, as if you were ignoring him. (How could you?) He was smoking as he leaned against the wall beside the door. You always left of it, him always right. (▞ He’s always right. ▞ He ▙ never ▞ lies. Not to ▖ ▞ ▗ you.)

It was silent. Only the turning of your pages as you focused on reading, and the occasional exhale you hear now and then if you strain your ears. A puff of grey smoke above the two as your audience.

You don’t mind the quiet moments. You take what you can get. The two of you have too long a history for you to be uncomfortable at silence. Or needing something more. 

You don’t.

(The secret coin in your pocket burns, and you try not to flinch nor whine. You must stay sated, ▚ демон ▚ ▛ ▖ ▖.) 

A shot went through the front of your skull, your hand darting up as it seemed to go to the back of your head, a hiss to your lips. You almost dropping the book with your other hand.

“Another migraine?” He was close. You opened your eyes you didn’t realize were closed as you were hunched over your knees, spotting his shoes. 

You only offered a small nod before closing your eyes again, jaw tight. 

“I don’t…” you stop, speaking more quietly to help with the pounding. The sunlight was too much already, you don’t want to add your own voice to your own misery. “Dont know why it’s getting worse. Is this…normal?”

“It can be.” He replied simply, to the point. “Here. Take this.”

You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head to spot he took out some more medicine from his leather jacket, holding it out to the pills in the palm of his hand. At the sight, your stomach curdled.

You felt yourself pale and you don’t know why.

Adler must’ve noticed your hesitation. Tilting his head and lips twitching to a frown around his cigarette. He lifted a hand, taking one deep inhale, embers subtly lighting his face before he threw it off. He exhaled out his nose, smoke flowing smoothly. 

Your throat tightened as you stared. But not in want. It felt more heavy. More heady. Your mouth open more in a wince than for anything else.

“You know this will help. We gotta make sure you’re in shape for this, Bell.” You bowed your head in shame, book now beside you on the pallet as you clenched your hands on your knees. You heard him sigh. And now you see him, closer—he’s kneeling in front of you. One knee down, the other having his elbow leaning against it. “I don’t have to explain to you the stakes currently. You know how serious this is since you and Woods found out Hudson’s dirty little secret about Perseus and the nuke he has. You know it. We can’t fuck around anymore.”

You hunched your shoulders, as if that can hide you from your guilt. Because you spotted his glance towards your book. You can guess what else he’s hinting.

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? A part of your mind asked. You tried to not let your heart crack of no more pictures.

“I know…” you say, eyes down and to the side. Yet… “It’s just…it wasn’t that long ago you gave me them…I don’t—I mean—“ Your tongue is tied again. Like always near him. You didn’t mean to sound accusing or hinting. Adler is trained for medical issues on the field. You tried to take a breath. “I just don’t want to be a burden with all this. Slow you guys down. I don’t want to disappoint you.” You did a tight squeeze of your knees, practically white knuckled grip, a mix of uncaring at your honesty and hating yourself for it.

You felt your chin be lifted up, Adler’s forefinger doing so you can be face to face. He assessed you seriously.

“You won’t, kid.” He’s so close. Breath to your face. So calm too. Your anchor. He believes in you. If you or him leaned just an inch or two forward—he took his hand away from your face before bringing his palm with the medicine again. “Taking these will help. I’ll watch over you. Just like the good ‘ol days.” He tilted his head, a quirk of the mouth up. And you think he couldn’t be more charming. 

You ignored your past nerves, quickly taking the medicine in a dry swallow, gloved hands brushing his bare ones(Damn it all.). 

He nodded at you, the barest thing of it before he stood up. Glancing at your book again with pressed lips before facing you once more with a raised brow.

“Oscar Wilde? Here I thought you only read Dostoevsky and Nietzsche.”

“It’s a collection of some of his poem’s. And a break from existentialism and nihilism is good for the mind. But you’ve always been more of a stoic,” you shoot him a teasing look, an attempt to get your bravado back. “Our very own Prince Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Adler did a small huff out his nose.

“Just don’t start bowing.” Adler did a quick motion of his to the door. “Come on. Back to work, Tolstoy.”

You nod, marking where you were in the book before following Adler back in, your hold on the book tight. Who knows when you’ll get to read again.

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? 

(It doesn’t matter. Adler made the choice for you.)

You tell yourself it’s fine. You instead let yourself be a book for Adler—willing to be read. You imagine how he would do it, a book of you in his hands. Read through your pages, open up your spine and let his fingers run through your creases—how easily can he finish you? How many times could he, until you’re worn and wrinkled from use? Will his touch trace the abuse of a loved book?

The place where he put his finger on your chin burns.

…

The page you marked on the page reads: “Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light."

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A/N: Bell is a SIMP. Poor girl. The best way to tell if Bell is in love, is if she suddenly starts thinking in poetry. Bell stares intensely you say? Bell loves intensely too.

I’m also confusing myself with Dark!Adler and Soft!Adler. But again he’s both so 🤷‍♀��� Man so toxic and a red flag, he’s even confusing the author.

Also, I’m planning to write really quickly to finish up For Whom the Bell Tolls. Didn’t want to but I really want to go ahead and write for BO6. Then again, that fic was NEVER supposed to be that long or longer. Sorry if I speed through some stuff, I just want to finish it and move on then torture you all further.

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae @makeyourpeacenow @obsessedgremlin

You have to tell me if you want me to tag you for each update or else I won't know. Or if you wish to be removed.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least. 

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facials; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic (except for Rei and Haruko). However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: AO3 is down & supposedly leading people to a scammy site looking to steal personal info, so for now, these 2 chapters are staying on Tumblr until further notice. It's ALWAYS something, I s2g. -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

**********

Chapter Five: A Break.

Several hours later, as midday drips into the afternoon, you are champagne-tipsy and shaking ass like it’s nobody’s business. 

The DJ should’ve known better than to start playing Uncle Luke and thinking you and Rumi wouldn’t be losing your shit. The rabbit hero is right behind you, catching your ass as you throw it, hyping you up in the meantime.

“Yaaass, bitch!” she shouts while Nemuri and Yu laugh behind her. “As you should with that ass, bitch!” 

At this point, your braids have fallen out of your updo and are swinging around your face and you’ve abandoned your shoes. The champagne has you feeling bubbly and warm. All is right in the world and nothing can touch you right now as you dance with your friends, joyful laughter spilling from your lips. 

The rest of the wedding reception was a whirlwind of food, alcohol, and pictures with Fatgum and Haruko as the newly married couple. You took pictures with them alongside Keigo by the gazebos before the DJ replaced the band and started pulling out the party songs like the Cupid Shuffle and Cha Cha Slide.

The blue sky has since transitioned to a tangerine orange as the sun begins to set on the summer evening. You almost don’t want the day to end. You’ve been having too much fun with your friends and enjoying yourself, tossing back glass after glass of the finest champagne. 

After the DJ gets all the “freak ‘em” tracks out of his bag, he begins to play the slower, more romantic songs. Instantly, people start coupling up with their significant others and partners. You look around, finding that you’re surrounded by couples you know: Fatgum and Haruko; Nemuri and Yu; Aizawa and Mic (after Mic drags him over to the floor against his will). 

And you’re all alone now. Rumi has since left the floor to go find someone to play with, leaving you with Nemuri and Yu to dance before the slow songs start playing.

You flush with embarrassment, feeling awkward and small now that you’re standing alone among the lovey-dovey couples. You wonder where Rei is. The last time you saw him was an hour ago…or was it two? 

You turn to go search for him, but as you turn, you become wobbly due to the alcohol catching up with you. A gasp leaves your lips as you teeter to the side, your hands outstretched to catch yourself if you fall. But someone interlocks their muscular arm around your waist, stopping you from hitting the floor and making a fool of yourself.

“Whoa, whoa, birdie!” Keigo teasingly says. “Wouldn’t want you to bust that pretty face. Especially before the Gala.” 

You look up into the citrine eyes of your best friend, thankful to have him come to your rescue. When he sits up upright, his hand brushes against your lower back, his fingertips grazing your skin. It gives you chills, but you pass it off as an effect of the sun setting. In this position, you now see Rei standing by the snack table chatting with Snipe and Hounddog.

Keigo looks in the same direction, scowling. “What, your man don’t dance?” he scoffs. 

“You know he doesn’t dance, Keigo,” you fire back, rolling your eyes. “Plus, he’s busy right now.” But even as you defend your boyfriend, you can’t help but feel a snag of irritation at the fact that he’s been chatting more with guests than spending time with you. 

“Well, he better not be too busy,” Keigo replies dryly. “I’ve seen way too many eyes on you for the past few hours.” You notice his eyes, steel-like and intimidating, cutting across the dance floor to stare at a couple of waiters who are ogling at your frame. They blush and scatter with their trays when they see Keigo glaring at them. 

You flush, not realizing you are being silently pursued. Has it been like that all day? Have you been too tipsy to notice it? The idea almost flatters you in your tipsy state. Maybe that’ll teach Rei.

“Whatever,” you scoff. “Anyways, go find Sakura so she can dance with you.” You push the blonde off the floor to go find his girlfriend whom you haven’t seen in a while either. The last time you saw her was when she was shoveling down lobster at your table. 

Keigo scowls at you, looking concerned. “And leave you all alone?”

You giggle, rolling your eyes at his overprotectiveness. “Keigo, I’m fine and Rei is literally right there. I need to talk with him anyway.”

You smile reassuringly at him and bump his hip with yours. “Go be with your girl,” you say, giving him a wink before leaving the dance floor. 

You head straight over to Rei, finding yourself becoming more bothered the closer you get to him. He’s looking quite good in his suit and the way the orange rays of the sunset are hitting his face is worthy of a nut. You slink up behind him and wrap your arms around him. “Hey, yoooou,” you coo, pecking his cheek. “Fellas, you mind if I steal him away for a bit?” 

Snipe puts up a hand while Houndog lets out a grumbling chuckle, already knowing what’s up. “Not at all, H/N,” he says through his metal mask. “He’s all yours.”

You nod at them in thanks as they walk away to converse with other pros who have begun to circle around the snack table where the huge, marveled, towering wedding cake that the chefs have brought out sits, ready to be cut. 

“You havin’ fun?” you ask Rei, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. He turns toward you, not even a bit tipsy. “Of course,” he chuckles, “but you definitely seem like you’re beating me in that department.” He stares into your hooded eyes, looking slightly concerned. “Babe, are you drunk?” 

You giggle tipsily. “A little bit,” you reply, pinching your thumb and index finger together. “The champagne just kept flowin’, so it ain’t my fault!” You give him a little pout before moving closer to him, pressing your sticky-glossed lips to his ear. “C’mon, I wanna show you something,” you whisper to him, a giggle in your chest. 

Rei pulls away enough to look down at you in hesitation. “But I think they’re about to cut the cake.”

He stares toward the snack table where Fatgum and Haruko now stand, their hands enclosed behind a large butcher knife as cameras flash. The couple stares lovingly at each other, Fatgum using his thumb to swipe strawberry buttercream icing over Haruko’s lip. 

Just seeing the love transcending between them is enough to wear your off buzz. Just another reminder of what you don’t have and what seems so complicated to possess. You immediately take Rei’s hand and drag him away. “We can get some later,” you reply, laughing as you begin skipping away with him in tow. “C’mon, hurry!” 

You drag Rei far away from any prying eyes, right to the other side of the park where there are several white tents and a group of trees blocking you from view from the guests. You can only hear the distant conversation and music carrying along the summer wind.

Rei looks at you confusedly. “What are we doing all the way back here?” he questions innocently. 

You press him up against the nearest tree, your hands gripping his biceps. Now that the alcohol has set in, so have its effects, including the horniness. Your body is begging for this man, pussy throbbing and nipples hard under your dress.

“Let’s go home,” you purr to your boyfriend. “I’ve been missin’ you so much lately. And you look damn good in this.” Your hands run over his expensive suit, feeling his muscled chest underneath. 

Rei swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “We can’t just leave, babe. It would be rude. Plus, don’t you want some cake?” His response kills your arousal somewhat, but Rumi’s advice comes floating back to you. “Then we’ll just do it here,” you whisper more to yourself than to him. 

Rei furrows his brows at you. “Huh?” he asks, squinting in confusion at your words. His eyes then travel to your hands which have begun to pull and tug at his belt. “Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” he hisses, trying to move your hands away. 

You put his hands up to your mouth, your body flushed and your heart pounding. “Shh,” you coo, pressing a kiss to his hand. “This won’t take long, I promise. Lemme just…”

You continue to work his belt off, loosening it before your hand dips underneath his briefs to find his softened cock. “Wait,” Rei protests. “Wait, Y/N, c’mon, I’m not even hard.” 

You stare up at him through hooded eyes, pressing your tits up against his chest. “Then let me get you there,” you purr before you begin to stroke him under his briefs. Your lips press against his jawline, trying in vain to ease his nerves. “Just let me take care of you.” 

“Y/N, cut it out!” Rei quickly jumps away from you, leaving you empty-handed. “Someone could see us!” He motions angrily toward the pointed tips of the tents that stretch overhead behind the canopy of trees that only hide so much of you. Maybe you weren’t as hidden as you initially thought.

Rei stares at you like you’re a different person; someone he isn’t sure he can trust. “What’s gotten into you?” he huffs as he fixes his pants and belt. 

You stand there, embarrassed and humiliated. The alcohol only makes you feel much worse. You feel stupid. Idiotic. And more than that, tired. It is an exhaustion that settles in your bones and makes you want to pop an Advil and smoke a blunt.

It is exhaustion only contributed by the constant work given to this relationship–mostly the sex. You know you’ve exhausted all other options and tears conjured from the champagne prick at your eyes from the fact. 

“Maybe it’s all that alcohol,” Rei sighs, already moving past you to head back to the wedding. “C’mon, let’s get you some water.” But as he begins to leave, he realizes you’re not following him and stops. “Y/N?” he asks expectantly. 

You lean against the tree, feeling like you need something solid to hold onto. “This isn’t working,” you blurt before you can stop the words from arriving. As soon as they’re out, you look at Rei, wide-eyed and damning yourself.

He stares at you, perplexed. “What isn’t?” he asks, sounding and looking so confused at you feel horrible for feeling like this. 

You will the tears threatening to drip down your face away as you sigh exhaustedly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” you weakly say. You stare down at your bare feet, afraid to look at Rei. Coward.

“I think we need a break,” you blurt out, cringing at your words. 

Silence swells around you, uncomfortable and tense. You look up at Rei, finding him to be standing as still as the trees surrounding you as your audience. “W-What?” he softly stutters, sounding devastated.

A knife stabs you in the heart, twisting. “I-I just need some time to think things over and to be alone,” you attempt to explain. Rei rapidly blinks at you, his lips parted in shock. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asks incredulously. 

“No!” you immediately reply, but then backtrack with a weak, “I don’t know. I-I just need a short break to be alone, at least until next month when the Gala is over. I wanted to give you time to work because it’s important to you.”

You turn away from him, staring out at the stretch of forest leading toward the hiking trails. “More important than me,” you murmur. 

Rei scoffs behind you, the sound pissing you off for some reason like he just can’t believe you feel so hurt. “Do you really believe that?” he questions in disbelief.

You turn to face him then, hoping he sees the exhaustion and hurt in your eyes. “What am I supposed to think, Rei?” you retort, frustrated. “We’re barely together anymore because of your job and if we are, I feel even more distant from you.” 

You huff, shoulders slumping. You wrap your arms around yourself to comfort yourself with a hug. “I’m just not happy right now with us…or the sex.” Rei’s scowl shifts to one of irritation. “The sex?” he parrots with a haughty scoff. “You’re breaking up with me over our sex life?” 

You stare at him, not believing his words. Did he hear anything you just said about feeling distant from him because of his work? He stares at you in utter disbelief and anger. “I don’t believe this!” he huffs. “I try so hard to be the perfect boyfriend for you. I give you gifts; I text you sweet little messages; I…”

He leans toward you, his voice hushed. “I performed cunnilingus on you when you were on your period!” 

You flush at the memory, especially since he’s using it as a weapon in his argument about why he’s the perfect boyfriend. He’s doing a good job at it too. “For the record, I told you that you didn’t have to do that,” you retort. “And you didn’t even do a good job.”

Rei stares at you, dumbfounded. “And you didn’t think to talk to me about this?” he asks accusingly. 

“I’ve tried!” you snap, your frustrations finally being released. “For months, Rei! You’re not attentive, you barely wanna try anything new, and whenever I try to talk to you about it, you’re either too busy or you blow me off!”

Rei doesn’t look convinced. You can see he has his own unspoken frustrations in his eyes. “You sure this isn’t about him?” he cooly asks. The ice in his tone makes you wince. 

“Who?” you ask, confused. Rei doesn’t clarify, but the way he’s staring you down so harshly makes you realize who “him” is. Only one person you know can make Rei this enraged.

“Hawks?” you squeak incredulously. “You think I like Hawks?” 

Rei is dead serious, his hard stare never softening. “I see the way you look at him,” he growls. “Don’t deny it! You were looking at him today like you wanted a piece of him.”

You gape at him, realizing he’s deadass. You can’t believe he’s even insinuating this, let alone putting you on the spot like this. “Are you insane?” you scoff angrily. “No, that’s not true and I don’t appreciate you bringing Keigo into this just because you don’t like him. This is between you and me.” 

You take a moment to inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. “This isn’t working, Rei,” you firmly say. “I just need this break for time to be alone. You’re able to focus on work and so am I. Then maybe after the Gala, if we still feel the same way, we can talk more about this.” 

You wait for Rei to continue to argue or protest. But he does neither. He just stares at you silently, sizing you up like he would an opponent. He doesn’t gaze at you with love or adoration, his eyes completely void of any of those warm emotions. 

“No,” he finally growls. “I’m not waiting after the Gala. I don’t need you on my conscious during one of the most important nights of my career, so if you don’t wanna do this right, then I will.”

He looks at you and inhales. “I’m breaking up with you,” he exhales with finality. “There. You got what you wanted.” 

You feel those tears begin to rise again and quickly blink them away. “I’m sorry, Rei,” you softly utter. 

Rei continues to give you that fixed, cold stare, his lips in a tight line. “No, you’re not,” he finally murmurs, making you flinch. 

Before you can even utter another weak-ass apology, he’s turning around and zooming up the hill until he’s at the parking lot in the blink of an eye. You stand there and watch him leave until he’s in his car and peeling out of the park’s parking lot without you. 

He leaves you standing there, heartbroken and feeling like total, oven-roasted shit. Desperate to be as far away from the wedding as possible, you quickly leave and head for the nearest gazebo that overlooks the stretch of forest surrounding the backend of the park.

You stand in the white gazebo for you don’t know how long, but the evening has begun to transition to dusk. The sky has begun to turn from a shade of orangey-gold to a light hue of lavender. Fireflies flicker in and out of grass blades and between the trees now darkened from dusk. 

The sights of nature comfort you, but only a little. You’re still feeling guilt and uncertainty that eats at your entire being. You know that you hurt Rei, and that hurts you even more. How can you be sure you did the right thing? Will he even still want to rekindle things after the Gala? 

You lean your head against one of the gazebo’s pillars, staring out into the forest. You’re so transfixed on the swaying trees and the stillness of the forest that you barely notice footsteps creeping behind you through the grass.

You jump, startled, and turn to see Keigo making his way towards you. “Hey, you!” he sing-songs. “This is where you ran off to? I’ve been lookin’ for your ass for ages! Rumi swore you were kidnapped.” 

At the sight of his sunshine-bright smile, you quickly plaster your own smile onto your face. “Oh, just needed some air,” you lie through your teeth. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be with your girl?”  

Keigo joins you in the gazebo, leaning one hip against the ledge. “She’s asleep,” he chuckles. “Poor girl couldn’t take the festivities, so she’s in one of the tents.” He looks around, suddenly noticing you’re short of one person. “Where’s your date?” 

At the mention of Rei, your false smile wavers. “Oh! He, uh…”

You quickly search for a good lie to avoid telling Keigo the truth. “He wasn’t feelin’ well so he left. That lobster flipped his stomach. You know how shellfish is sometimes.” Keigo just stares at you, not at all persuaded or buying your shit. 

“You’re a shit liar,” he says but not unkindly. You can see the soft concern in his citrine eyes, and that makes you feel utterly sick. 

You sigh defeatedly, wrapping your arms around yourself once more to comfort yourself. “I asked for a break,” you dryly answer. Keigo’s smile falters, turning into a serious scowl. You know he wants to ask what happened, but you’re not in the mood to talk. You don’t even want to think about it.

You turn away to avoid crying in front of him as those damn tears rise again. “Look, can we not talk about this right now?” you squeak out, swallowing the lemon-sized lump forming in your throat. 

Like a good friend, Keigo doesn’t ask questions. Instead, he offers something much better. He wraps a comforting, muscular arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into him. “Looks like someone needs a pick-me-up,” he hums, smirking down at you. “Patron shots?” 

You swear that you could’ve kissed him right then. 

[rad-roche]

chit-chattin about some books i've read (or reread) recently. not a review, and i'll refrain from big spoilers in case you happen to be interested in reading any, but just a general overview and some thoughts ( ᐛ )و

been making an effort to read more lately. that thing happened that comes with adulthood, you know, things take priority, life happens, as well as the SocMed's curse i'm sure we all share; books take time, and effort, and is competing with a skinner box. i've come up with a pretty good system, which is taking me e-reader somewhere nice, or at least into a different room, away from my desktop, but not getting too hung up if i do get distracted. i'll dig out my wireless headphones, put on an album or lofi, then throw my phone the maximum distance away before it disconnects. i make a point not to make time to do it every day, like a set hour, because i know how my brain works and if i feel like i 'have' to do it i'll resent it. it's somehow much easier for me to think, independently, 'oh yeah, i've got a book to read' every single day rather than planning to do it. this is a fool's system. i do not recommend structuring anything like this.

in no particular order;

negative space - b.r yeager: i really loved this! there are a lot of 'sad kids roam around on bikes with Horrors Occurring' books, but this is very contemporary and has a very specific sort of late 10s malaise. teenagers are committing suicide en masse in a dying suburban town, and all there is to do is drink, smoke and see who comes up next so you can take a picture and talk about it on a specially made gawking message board, and that's before the hallucinogen that lets you see into another reality. explains very little and that just makes it better, don't worry about things making sense the first time through. strongly recommend if you like your books to make you vomit

the thin man - dashiell hammett: nick and nora charles. need i say anything. is there a single thing i need to say. it's fucking dashiell hammett. it's dashiell hammett writing nick and nora charles. one trillion out of ten. nora. nora fucking charles is here.

archer in jeopardy (the zebra-striped hearse, the instant enemy, the doomsters) - ross macdonald: three book omnibus from another of the Big Three (chandler, hammett, macdonald). they're all fantastic. they don't quite have the poetic turns that chandler does but also, comparing anybody to raymond chandler on turns of phrase is criminal. set in a time period you don't see so much, the transition from the 50s to 60s. a little old-man-yells-at-cloud-y about the youth, but you're going to struggle to find a noir writer who approaches his subjects with such empathy. lew archer is a kind, open-hearted man, and he suffers hugely for it. i know a significant amount of you are here for fallout stuff, so i think this is a fair comparison; nick valentine owes a lot to how lew archer is written. if you're looking to get into the genre and need a reference point, these are probably the books you should start with

mass effect revelation - gave it a whirl, couldn't stick with it. might try again later, i really like anderson as a character and i'm big into ME.

quantum devil saga; avatar tuner - yu godai, kevin frane; it's okay! i enjoyed it, but i'm super into the game it's expanding on. supplemental material, you know. i wouldn't read it by itself

body scout - lincoln michel; neo-noir set in the future where corporations run amok and pump athletes so full of experimental drugs that they turn to chunky soup on the field. i appreciate how batshit weird it gets, it's very confidently written. i finished it a month ago and have thought about it every day since, it's very up my alley, themes and such that i like and explore. you'd probably like this if you like dmt.

dishonored; the corroded man - adam christopher; an interesting read in that it takes the incredible setting of dishonored and somehow makes it tedious. didn't like it

devil house - john darnielle: now here's a fuckin tome and a half. a (fictional) true crime writer digs into an occult double-murder. but it's not about that. well it is. don't let the cover fool you, it's not a horror. but it kind of is? whatever it is, it's worthwhile. really dense, good if you want to get your teeth into some Big Questions. you'll spend the first part wondering when it will pick up speed, then you'll be screaming for it to stop

pictures of sea slugs; various sea slugs - not a book but something i've been looking at a lot lately. i think they're very cute. i love their little frills

i mean my god

[officialrickshades]

I AM VERY INTERESTED IN YOUR CAMPAIGN CHARACTER, PLEASE TELL ME MORE

ME? MY LITTLE GUY? I LOOK UP WITH BIG OL EYES...

(before we start off- i want to clarify his epithet is Thief)

he is one of the characters thats incredibly hard for me to play due to how different his reactions to certain situations would be from mine, but because of that it makes me want to study him LIKE A BUG. honestly i should draw him more soon but hes weirdly hard for me to draw for literally no reason (i think its how inconsistent his outfit is?)

the most basic parts of his character is, he plays himself off someone whos very lax and uncaring. hes a master criminal! he doesnt need anybody, he’s just in it for himself, yeah? and most people he meets? they play along with that! so why should he even try to be anything other than that. really, everyone should see stuff like this coming from him! hes not a good person and he know that.

to get into the MEAT of him though- (SORRY ABOUT THE WALL OF TEXT IM BONKERS ABOUT HIM)

i point at Ori, EMOTIONALLY STUNTED MAN WITH SELF IMAGE PROBLEMS AND TRUST ISSUES SO BAD HE SELF SABOTAGES AND TAKES OTHERS DOWN WITH HIM. AND ALSO RUNS FROM TOUGH SITUATIONS VERY QUICKLY.

look i have so much brain rot about him at times, that i will just, put his playlist right here. i love him. i want to throw him off a bridge. i look at him and all the things he does wrong and i want to THROTTLE HIM. I WANT TO SHAKE HIM UNTIL HE MAKES BETTER CHOICES. thankfully he is getting on his Character Arc and slowly learning that he can care and be cared for. though he is in a transition stage for his character and its GOING TO BE A WHILE UNTIL THE NEXT SESSION......

hes coming to terms right now, with the fact that people have ACTUALLY placed trust in him, and... hes scared. hes scared because theres a part of that actually doesn’t want to disappoint them, but he feels like hes going to no matter how hard he tries. him trying to leave shouldve been proof enough, but still she... she trusts him. part of him cant help but want to trust her to. to... try harder to. even if he knows he shouldnt either.

also he has performance anxiety, specifically in the form of stage fright.

(the picture is a /j)

IF YOU READ THIS FAR MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO ME GO ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT OVER MY STUPID LITTLE MAN

[twinkleimagines]

Hiii drew smut where they meet from Madison and have been talking and then the cast plus y/n go out clubbing and they confess there feelings / also can drew be rough.

*Keep it on the low*

Warning: smut and language.

I got carried away with this one so I hope you guys like.

“ I just feel like we never see each other anymore “ you spoke over the phone Bailey.

“ I know” she whined out. “ listen we’ll fly you out this weekend so we can hang and you can meet my friends okay? You’re going to love them “ she insisted.

“ okay” you agreed, the feeling of excitement rushing through you. Madison was your best friend since middle school and it had been a touch transition since she began filming her new tv show, Outer Banks. Of course you talked on the phone but it wasn’t the same, and you missed her truly.

You had almost became envious of her new cast mates because they were daily posting videos and pictures with each other and it made you miss her more than ever .

You quickly went back to your bedroom, packing a suit case- the weekend couldn’t come any faster .

****

“ I’m walking down the escalator now” you spoke as you sat on the phone with Madison trying to find your way to her.

“ okay - wait I think I see you” she spoke out.

“ y/n!” You heard someone yell from in front of you. You lifted your head only to see Madison standing at the bottom of the escalator, her hand waving at 90 miles per hour.

“ Maddy!” You yelled before jogging your way down the already moving steps.

“ oh my gosh!” You yelled out as you both wrapped each other in a tight hug.

“ I’m gonna cry “ she spoke as she squeezed her arms around your shoulders.

“ ugh I know I’ve missed you so much” you poured .

“ c’mon we’ve only got the weekend and I have soooo much to show you” she insisted, tugging on your arm .

****

The ride to Madison’s hotel that she was staying it a was a bit of a drive from the apartment. She was staying pretty close to the beach and Charleston was probably one of the most beautiful cities you had ever laid your eyes on.

Madison had updated you on a lot, including a new girl she was talking to as well as her new friends and their characters on the show.

“ this Rafe guy sounds like a dick” you joked.

“ yeah but you’ll love Drew he’s literally polar opposite than his character . “

******

"Ahhh she's back!" a blonde headed boy beamed, running over towards your friend, ingulfing her in a hug.

"Rudy this is Y/n" She said with a wide smile, pulling you over.

"Hi" You beamed holding your hand out but Rudy instead pulled you into a hug.

"So glad you finally made it. Maddie over here wouldn't shut up about how much she missed you" He joked.

"Awe Maddie " You said with a sympathetic pout.

"Shut up" She laughed while rolling her eyes before pulling you further into the hotel.

"Guys" She spoke out loudly to a group of people sitting on her couch causing all of their eyes to advert towards you. " This is Y/n" She announced pulling you up next to her.

You awkwardly waved, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as she practically put the spot light onto you.

"I'm Chase" One guy said leaning over the couch, holding his hand out.

"I'm Madelyn " The blonde girl next to him said standing up, walking over towards you. " it's nice to meet you" she beamed, pulling you into a hug.

'Okay so everyone is big into hugs,' you thought. You smiled widely at her before you looked over at another one walking towards you.

"I'm Jonathan Daviss, but you can call me JD" He spoke. you nodded excitedly.

"That's a cool nickname" you beamed, causing a smile to form on his face. You then looked over towards the last face on the couch.

Woah.

Now this man- he almost took your breath away. He stood up, his tall figure stretching high towards the ceiling.

"Hi, i'm Drew" He spoke, his voice the perfect tone, almost sounded like music to your ears. He had these sky blue eyes, perfectly pink lips, a little bit of fuzz on his jaw from being recently shaved, and brown hair draped over the sides of his forehead, parting perfectly down the middle. Your heart began to pound as he reached his hand out for you to shake. You hadn't realized you were staring until Madison nudged you with her elbow, bringing you out of your trance.

"Oh uhm yeah- i mean hi I'm y/n" You stuttered embarrassingly. He smiled a bright smile, his white teeth shining perfectly on his perfectly aligned face.

You sighed deeply. You never believed in love at first sight until now. How perfect this stranger was to you. If it weren't for you not wanting to humiliate yourself even more than you already were, you would've continued looking at him with admiration, but instead you turned your head to look at Maddie, trying to not to creep the poor guy out.

"okay guys I'm starving" Chase spoke up as the room filled with silence. "who wants to go eat?" He asked throwing his hands up. You grinned , already loving everyone's bubbly personality.

You sat your bag down onto the ground before tucking your hair behind your ear, watching as everyone began to make their way out the door.

"After you" Drew said, you and him being the last ones left in the room.

"Thanks" you said softly, walking out in front of him as he held the door open for you.

Who would've known that this would only the beginning of a very special relationship.

********

"Drew" You spoke out before his lips placed onto yours once again, his hand placed firmly on your thigh as your were tangled in his hair.

"Hmm" He hummed against your lips, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

"We should tell them" You breathed out in between kisses.

"Mmm" he mumbled, his eyes closed as his lips trailed down your jaw towards your neck.

"I'm serious Drew I don't want to hide you anymore" You responded pulling away from him.

He stopped his movements, making eye contact with you.

"You sure?" He asked.

You and Drew had instantly hit it off that first weekend Madison brought you over.

It had happened the first night you had stayed the night. Everyone had fallen asleep and you and Drew stayed up for hours on hours endlessly talking about anything and everything. The sparks were flying. You were so engaged in every word that came out of his mouth, his sentences sounding like lullabies to your ears.

Before you had left you both had exchanged numbers and before you could even make it to the airport you were both texting each other. Throughout the first week you both spent every night on the phone until one had fallen asleep. It had almost became addictive the way he made you feel.

Neither of you spoke of your friendship to anyone though. Mainly wanting to take things slow but you also didn't want to upset anyone or cause any issues between Drew and Madison. He assured you it wouldn't upset anyone or cause issues but at the same time he wanted to respect your wishes and keep things a secret.

You both had been virtually seeing each other for three weeks before he flew you out for a weekend, just the two of you. You had stayed with him the whole weekend, movie nights and a lot of sex.

This week though you were invited by the whole group, and right now you were hidden off in Drew's hotel hiding from the group with Drew laid on top of you, the both of you shirtless.

"We can tell them tonight okay, i just want to enjoy the time we have together right now" He insisted. You simply nodded before leaning your head forward before placing your lips against his once again.

Drew sat up, smirking at you as he tugged on your jeans, pulling them down your thighs, exposing your pink laced panties that complimented your skin so well.

"So beautiful" Drew mumbled as his hands massaged against your thighs before reaching up towards your panties pulling them down as well. He reached over to the nightstand grabbing the condom on the top before pushing his own pants down, exposing his hardened pink shaft, the veins popping out the side.

You stared in admiration at the size as he placed the rubber over him.

"Flip over" he instructed. You quickly obliged, your face in his pillow. He tucked his arm under your waist, pulling your hips bag some to wear your bottom was pointed upwards.

You gasped loudly as you felt his tip insert into you, stretching your walls around him.

"fuck" you moaned out as he pushed into you, his hips pressed against your cheeks before he pulled back out, letting your own juices help lubricate him before he pushed back in at a faster speed.

"Fuck you're tight" Drew groaned out as he slowly pulled himself of you again, leaving just the tip in. You looked over your shoulder, smirking up at him as he looked down at you, his Adams apple poking out. Drew sighed heavily , closing his eyes for a brief second almost coming undone right then and there just from the sight of you.

He finally regained his composer, looking back down at you before pressing his hand onto the back of your head pushing your face further into the pillow before he began moving his hips once again, this time at a much faster pace.

"God Drew" you cried out as he hit your spot with each thrust, your hands balling in a fist around his sheets as you struggled to breath, overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You arched your back further against Drew, giving him more access to go deeper into you, your hips moving causing your walls to tighten around him.

"Fuck" He breathed out, lowing his head some as we watched himself sliding in and out of you, his abs flexing with each thrust.

"Oh yes daddy yes "You moaned out, reaching behind you, grabbing hold of his hand that was placed on your bottom.

"You like that baby?" He asked before placing a firm smack against your left cheek. You hissed out , biting down on your bottom lip as your eyes focused on his body jerking forward over and over again, every inch of his body flexing as he moved himself in and out of you.

Since that first weekend you and Drew had spent together alone, he had learned more and more ways to work your body, especially when he realized you enjoyed it rough like him.

"Pull my hair baby" you pleaded, attempting to tug on his hand that had a firm grip on your hip while your body continued rocking back and forth.

Drew quickly obliged, reaching up to grab a hand full of your hair, pulling you back towards him, your back arched to where your arms stretched out, your hands placed against his pillows.

"God yes" You winced out, a slight stinging as he had a tight grip on your hair.

"Fuck princess" he groaned feeling his climax beginning to build. His thrusts began to speed up, your tits bouncing in the air as he continued to pound into you. You leaned up some, arm wrapping around his neck . You both began to lower, you practically sitting in his lap as he leaned back, propped up on one arm as the other had his hand wrapped against your throat. His thrusts were now at a steady but rough pace, slamming up against you as he placed sloppy kisses alongside your shoulder.

"God" He groaned out as his thrusts slowed down, turning more into grinds as his cock pulsed inside you, his warm load filling the condom. You begin rocking your hips back and forth along him riding your own high out, moaning his name out loudly as your toes curled, your climax euphoric. You climbed off of Drew, flopping your body down onto the his bed, breathing heavily as you ran your hands through your hair.

"That was amazing" you breathed out. Drew nodded, himself out of breath as well.

"I'm gonna get a shower" He responded as he stood up, his member beginning to soften. "We gotta meet everyone in two hours. Wanna join?" He asked. You smiled up at him before nodding, grabbing ahold of his reached out hand.

*****

"Finally" Madison groaned as she saw you climbing out of the black SUV that escorted you to the night club you and the gang were linking up at .

"Sorry got caught up" you responded brushing the hair out of your face as the wind blew against it.

"I can see" she chuckled, her eyes focused on the round purple hickey on your collarbone. Your eyes widened, you had almost forgotten about it. You had saw the hickey as you did your make up and Drew's shower but had forgotten to cover it.

"Who were you with?" She asked out of curiosity but you only shook your head, pretending to be shy about your actions.

"ugh okay come on everyone else is inside" She responded. You nodded before tugging slightly on your black dress as it rode up your thighs. You had your hair down with white sneakers on, a simple butterfly necklace and a skin tight strapless dress on that barely that went down a few inches on your thighs.

The music was loud, everyone definitely lit as you both walked in. Your eyes roamed the club. It was definitely a party style. There a lot of people around dancing, and neon objects glowing in the black lights. Madison guided you to the corner booth your shared friends resided in, including Drew.

""You look so cute!" Madelyn beamed as she wrapped you in a tight hug.

"You too babes" You responded, well yelled as you placed your chin on her shoulder, only to see Drew standing behind her, his eyes focused on your body. He almost looked upset. Seeming how you were still on the low about your relationship you didn't confront him, but you did check him out from afar. He stood on the side next to JD black denim jeans with a white striped button up collared shirt, with his signature gold chain around his neck and a black watch on his wrist.

Despite just getting your back blown out by Drew, you had to leave before anyone came searching for you so you didn't get to see Drew dressed up, the last image you had of him was of him in a towel and his wet hair slicked back.

He was looking so good at this point you had to distance yourself from him before you made it obvious of your secret.

"Come dance" Madelyn pleaded tugging on your arm.

"I need to be drunk before i get onto the dance floor" You joked. Madelyn though took you serious and walked over to the bar, ordering at least two shots for everyone since you were each going to be getting an Uber back to the hotels.

"Okay drink up" She responded holding both yours and her shot in the air. You quickly glanced over towards your secret boyfriend who was watching you intensely before you tossed your head back opening your throat, letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat.

"phew" you said, a shiver following shortly after.

"Okay, One more " Madelyn insisted. You didn't plan to get shit faced of course , but you were definitely interested in a good time so you obliged, repeating the same action again, this time the liquids going down a bit easier. You both stood for a second in silence before she shook her head.

"I think one more with do us justice " She grinned. You chuckled, already feeling a slight buzz coming as the alcohol spread through your blood stream.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" You heard someone mumble from behind you. You looked over to see Drew standing behind you. You furrowed your brows together. How the hell did he get over there so fast?

"Don't " you mumbled before looking down at the table trying to avoid his gaze. "You're making it obvious" You responded before taking a step away, turning your back towards him.

Unfortunately you didn't notice how much those words actually upset Drew. IT had almost felt like he was an embarrassment to you with how much effort you put in to hiding him so he walked away, finding his way back next to JD.

"You okay man?" JD asked as he saw the obvious frown on Drew's face.

"Yeah man" He mumbled as he looked across the both of them, watching you quickly gulp away yet another shot of alcohol, bursting into laughter shortly after with Madelyn. He shook his head in disappointment. Of course he wanted you to have fun but he just didn't want you to get so waisted you end up doing something you regret and him not being able to help you since you didn't want him to show his affection towards you in front of everyone.

"Want a shot?" Drew asked glancing over at JD who also looked not too amused at the moment with the environment and in need of some lighting up. They both watched you and Madelyn make your way to the dance floor, merging in with the crowd as the quickly took their first shot, both of them sighing heavily as they attempted to mask the burning feeling.

You immediately began swaying your hips to the upbeat music, the alcohol coursing through your body, giving you an almost out of body type feeling, something you usually didn't get unless you were in bed with Drew.

You didn't intend to jump into the party that fast. after 2 songs Chase had came by with more shots, unaware to the previous t3 you both had taken but neither of you denied them, quickly throwing your head back, wiping the drips off your chin as you looked over at Drew who surprisingly paid you no attention. You dancing slowed down as you realized the group Drew was associating with.

You could see JD and Rudy with Drew which was not an issue. it was the 3 bimbos standing with them too, one in particular standing too close for your comfort towards Drew, her index finger twirling in a poorly curled strand of hair.

You rolled your eyes, jealously now running through you. It was obviously intensified from the alcohol but you wanted to drag him away from the girls and show those girls exactly who he belonged to but you knew you couldn't say anything considering you and him were a secret.

"Hi" You heard from behind you. It was a tall brunette guy, pretty stocky with what looked to be hazel eyes and curly brown hair. At least that what you guessed since the dance floor was only lit up from black lights above you.

"Hi" You said with a friendly smile before turning back around, a frown forming as you noticed Drew laughing at whatever the girl closest to him just said.

"You got a name?" The guy asked, dancing behind you. You turned your head, almost ready to tell him to piss off until you glanced over towards Drew who still had not even given you a glance.

"Y/n" You responded as you turned your body completely around, facing towards him.

You studied his face. He looked cute, or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding your judgment. To your drunken eyes, he favored Timothee Chalamet to you, which was some one who was a sight for sore eyes.

- but, never the less, he wasn't Drew.

The guy mentioned his name back to you but between the alcohol and the music , you didn't hear him clearly. You looked to your side to see Chase and Madelyn in their own little world so you shrugged your shoulders, turning back towards the tall boy.

"You come here with someone?" He asked as he took a step closer, his body swaying along with yours to the music. You glanced over your shoulder towards Drew, the same scenario playing as earlier . You rolled your eyes becoming agitated with Drew before you looked back forward trying not to be obvious.

"I thought i did but it's looking like they didn't come in with me" You said, your lips close to his ear as he leaned forward to hear you.

"Huh" He responded leaning back. "That's to bad. You're very beautiful" He responded. You grinned widely, enjoying the attention.

The song changed, turning to a slower song, a more sensual vibe to it. You turned around, swaying your hips up against the guy as his hand wrapped around your waist.

You usually wouldn't do this, but between the alcohol and your jealousy towards Drew, you were enjoying every second of it in hopes Drew would catch on and realize what he was losing.

And surprisingly , that's exactly what happened.

Drew tried to play things your way. He tried to pretend that there was nothing going on between the two of you. He even gave other women attention to make it believable but it was all fake smiles and laughs when really all he wanted was to hold you. He did try his best though, that is until he looked up to check on you only to see your body being held by another guy, your ass pressed against the guys crotch as he practically dry humped you from behind.

Now Drew didn't drink as much as you did, but he did have 1 to 2 shots , enough to help spark a fire inside of him, rage flowing through his veins. Drew didn't hesitate to make his way over to you, his mind only focused on removing the guy from his girl.

"Y/n what the fuck" He spat out as he tugged on your hand, trying to remove you from him. Your eyes widened, guilt instantly flowing through you. You didn't mean for any of this to happen and seeing Drew standing in front of you fuming, you couldn't help but to feel embarrassed by your actions.

"Man back off alright she's just having a good time" The guy said with a cocky smirk plastered across his face.

"Fuck off " Drew scolded before looking back at you, completely brushing the guy off.

"This is really how you want to sell it ?" He said, his voice louder than normal because of the music, but those surrounding him including Chase and Madelyn hearing.

"Oh go fuck yourself Drew" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. You began to march off of the dance floor, making your way towards the table you were previously at, leaving the stranger stranded.

"REal mature Y/n" He responded following closely behind you. The rest of the group followed behind, beyond confused as to why the two of you would even be arguing like this.

"Oh but you weren't doing the same thing over here with the chick ? Laughing at every little thing she said" You spat out.

He threw his hands up.

"Y/n i was trying to play your little game of secrets" He argued back.

"Wait what secrets?" Madison spat out. The both of you stared at each other, unsure who was going or not going to spill the truth.

"No point in hiding it anymore Y/n" Drew argued. You furrowed your brows in frustration, crossing your arms over your chest as Drew spoke. Which he was absolutely right which upset you anymore.

"Somebody better start talking in point two second or -"

"We're dating" you interrupted, looking over towards Madison.

Everyone's jaw dropped except for JD's, his response was jut of him shaking his head.

"What!?" Madison yelled out in shock.

"Like talking?" She asked, looking between the two of you. " Or like, dating dating?"

"More like dating dating" Rudy butted in, pushing his index finger into a circle he made with his other hand, indicating intercourse.

You quickly placed your head in your hand with embarrassment.

"No fucking way" Chase responded, a wide grin on his face.

"Bro why didn't you tell me?" Chase yelled out placing his hand on Drew's shoulder.

"We didn't want anyone mad at us or like, i don't know it ruin this friendship we all have" You responded, lowering your head in disappointment.

"Y/n are you delusional? Why would that make any of us mad ?" Madison replied with a wide grin on his face.

"You guys, i called it" JD finally spoke, a cocky smirk across his face.

"Whaattt? " you responded looking over at him with confusion.

"You guys have been clung to each other since you first met. I'm not stupid" He laughed. You shook your head, a grin forming on your face.

"Okay the cats out of the bag so you guys don't have to continue pretending okay? " Madelyn responded. "Can we please get back to dancing?" She pleaded. They all nodded before the group once again went their separate ways, leaving you and Drew alone at the table.

"I'm sorry" You responded stepping closer towards him, placing your hand on his.

"ME too" He responded looking down at you.

"I kind of want to get out of here, yanno" You said with a smirk on your face. He grinned back, nodding his head.

"agreed".

*****

Hope you guys liked!

✨feedback as well as a like and reblog is always appreciated 💗✨

[agentnico]

Last Night In Soho (2021) Review

It seems that with this and Dune I really am challenging the critical status quo this year. I’m very much in the minority on my views with these two films. 

Plot: An aspiring fashion designer is mysteriously able to enter the 1960s, where she encounters a dazzling wannabe singer. However, the glamour is not all it appears to be, and the dreams of the past start to crack and splinter into something far darker.

Edgar Wright as a filmmaker always leaned primarily towards the comedy genre. Whether its the projects he collaborated with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost on or his bigger scale Hollywood projects such as Scott Pilgrim vs. the World or Baby Driver, they all had that sense of whimsy and sarcasm to them all. Heck, even his documentary this year about the Sparks band was filled to the brim with jokes. So Last Night In Soho is definitely a step in a different direction for Edgar Wright, and it is nice to see him finally be willing to experiment more and try out things outside his comfort zone. Gone is the humour and instead we have this visually rich creepy horror tale that jumps from modern day to the 1960s, and the result may be questionable, but I certainly admire Wright for his efforts to try something different. And yes, from that sentence and tone I think you may gather that I didn’t really like Last Night In Soho that much. And you would be right!!

The primary issue with Last Night In Soho in my humble opinion but an opinion I choose to post online for the world to see is that I feel like this film tries to take on too much all at once. What’s more it is evident Edgar Wright is a filmmaker but also a massive film buff himself, as you can see how much inspiration he’s taken from other movies to create this motion picture. Visually you can see Nicolas Winging Refn’s neon visuals all over this thing, and the gothic gory side of things is very Italian horror in nature with the prime example being Dario Argento movies, with the crazy amounts of fake looking paint blood and creepy ghosts, and then there is the central mystery that is very Agatha Christie in style that I was half expecting Hercules Poirot to walk on screen and be like “Piss off ghosts, there’s been a murder here and I am the only one to solve this as I am the greatest detective in the world!!”. Okay, I feel like a bit of Korg slipped into that line but hey, if Taika Waititi ever decides to take on Hercules Poirot as a role I would be open to it, for better or worse, just saying. Anyway, it’s all these different styles thrown into this one movie, and the result is really messy. It tries to do so much all at once, however if you look at the narrative, the main plot-line is actually overly simplistic, however Wright’s style unnecessarily overcomplicates it. In fact, I was really enjoying this movie up to the halfway point, but then it decides to go bonkers and throw a bunch of crazy nonsense at you and at that point it lost me. For one, you get introduced to these ghosts who are supposed to scary you, however every time they appeared I found myself wanting to laugh as they would all trot along together like a bunch of Minecraft characters and act all creepy, but it just came off weird and ridiculous more than anything else. I get what Edgar Wright was going for, as I remember him mentioning in an interview that he was inspired by Nicolas Roeg’s psychological horror film Don’t Look Now where in that movie too things start out pretty calm and civil, but then at the end things naturally go AWOL and nuts (damn that red hood!!), however in that film that transition seemed to go more seamlessly. In Last Night In Soho it feels really messy and disorganised. This movie should have either leaned more fully into it’s traditional horror elements or have been more of a straightforward mystery with flashbacks. Not try and do both those very different genres together in this way.

There’s still elements I enjoyed here. The 1960s sequences for the most part looked very dazzling and stellar with the fitting costumes of the time and the streets of London being lit up with the 60′s night lights and shiny old school cars driving past. The glamour was indeed present as they say. The cast performances too were solid for the most part. Thomasin McKenzie is our main character in modern day and we see the events transpire from her perspective, and at first she annoyed me a little, not sure if it was due to her delivery of lines or her facial expressions, but eventually I did warm up to her. Anya Taylor-Joy also appears but primarily in flashbacks, so unlike the trailers and marketing may make it seem she is not the main character and isn’t in the movie that much, but for the time she’s in she does well and can apparently sing so that should be news to everyone. Where both McKenzie and Taylor-Joy get there chance to stand out is in the first dream sequence where McKenzie first enters the 60′s through Taylor-Joy’s character’s body, and Wright shows off his main technical gimmick for this movie in that whenever Taylor-Joy passes, looks into or stands next to a mirror we see McKenzie in the reflection mimicking all her actions, and it was actually impressive seeing how in-sync they were. There’s also a Matt Smith being evil and doing evil things, and look, his demeanour fits a villainous role so it works. I don’t know why, but when I see Matt Smith’s face I always wonder if he may be a bit of a prick, hence why evil characters seem to bode well for him. Terence Stamp appears and is appropriately creepy and unsettling, and Diana Rigg appears posthumously in her final role as the landlord of McKenzie’s character and she did her part well but I felt really bad when the end credits rolled, as throughout the movie I kept thinking she was the “hag” from Hot Fuzz. Point to note, she’s is not.

Cast performances and 60′s costumers aside, I can’t say I bought into Last Night In Soho. It was too many ideas and styles thrown into one. It’s as if Edgar Wright wanted to break out of his comfort zone, but in doing so tried to take on everything all at once. You can tell that in this movie’s narrative as things are set up but aren’t paid off. For example, in the beginning when McKenzie’s character arrives in her new university halls, she has to deal with this group of “mean girls” which their leader evil-Rachel-McAdams-type being set up as someone who’d constantly be getting in her way. But no, there’s a bit of bickering and then that character is completely forgotten about until the very end of the movie where she appears again to give McKenzie the ol’ side-eye treatment. There’s a few of these story choices that are left undealt with, which the more signified how this movie doesn’t know what it wants to be. Regardless as I said I admire Wright for trying something new and as always I look forward to seeing what he cooks up next.

Overall score: 5/10

[beelspillowpet]

If your requests are open and your willing to, would you be able to do the brothers reacting to a trans MC? 👉🏻👈🏻 preferably female to male, but either way is fine! Sorry if your not comfy with this type of request >~<

Anon, just because you were afraid that I would turn down your request, I am going to PROVE to you how much it doesn’t bother me I'm going to do the 7 brothers AND the side characters. Because you BETTER BELEIVE we have a cast of supportive people!! Yessir!!!

I myself am the twin sister of my late twin brother, who was also FtM! I’ll be using his memory as inspiration, if you do not mind? Thank you for requesting this!

~

Lucifer

At first he presumed you were just not girly. He didn't really mind your behavior or way of dressing, so long as you got your tasks done on time and were on your best behavior.

When you cut your hair and stopped wearing that nail polish (despite Asmo’s pleading) he still thought nothing of it. You wore pants, and started trying your best to drop hints, and thankfully, Lucifer isn’t an idiot.

So what you’re telling me is that we’ve made you uncomfortable when referring to you as a woman? If that is the case, MC, then we would be more than happy to refer to you as anything you request. You only need to say the word.

He is dedicated to making sure you’re happy and comfortable here. He and his brothers may be demons, but they aren’t heartless. They were once angels too. He goes through the process with you, if you were shaky or unsure of what to do in the past. If you want HRT, surgery, need a new wardrobe, he and his brothers will be the first to provide. Whatever to keep you happy in your skin.

Mammon

Oh. Honestly speaking, he’ll still love you regardless of what form your body takes. He liked the way you looked, but secretly he can’t wait to see how you’ll look after you transition.

Before we even get to that point though, it takes a lot of hint dropping for him to get it. And even then, he has to go and ask the others what you’re trying to tell him. Of course he gets picked on a little bit for it, but once he figures it out he’s really happy you were comfortable enough to tell him.

Hell, he might get a job just so he can help you be able to afford all the things you’ll need to properly transition. Some of the details make him blush quite a bit, and if you’re uncomfortable with touches or any signs of affection during your process of transitioning, he will politely refrain from making his human uncomfortable.

He’s taking you to Majolish and you are going to get your ENTIRE wardrobe redone. Courtesy of The GREAT Mammon! You should feel grateful that he’s working this hard to make you happy. I mean c’mon, he LOVES you! He can’t wait to love you more after you’ve become the man you always were deep down inside.

Leviathan

He does notice that you act different from other women. Not that he minds it, not at all. His Henry is still the same old Henry. Just a little bit different. He’s a little bit different too, there’s nothing wrong with that. Right?!

It’s when you start preferring to be called Henry as opposed to your birth name, do the cogs start churning in his brain. He would have suspected at first that maybe you just were very good friends with him and loved TSL almost as much as him.

He’s seen a few heart-warming anime about it. Specifically one about a girl becoming a boy, and the struggles he went through while attending school. The title wasn’t too important to him, but now that he had a reference for what you were dealing with, he was a bit happy. He just wanted to wait until the moment was right to bring it up to you. Perhaps his Henry was really a Henry after all!

When the moment comes, he’s proud to say the least. He throws his arms around you happily, and promises to be there by your side every step of the way. He’s not exactly rolling in money, but an Otaku finds a way. The Lord of Shadows is your best friend ever, and he can’t wait to see the before and after pictures of your full transition!

Satan

It started with a book you read with him. He didn’t fully comprehend your situation, but he knew you didn’t act like normal girls. It reminded him of a character in a book he read a few weeks ago. The guy didn’t really act like a girl.

While sweet and thoughtful, this character didn’t hit the nail on the head in some ways. When talking over the book with you, you explained just as much to him. The energy was there, but it was backwards for you. He picked up on it immediately.

So what you’re telling me is, you understand this characters struggle with themselves, and can relate to it. But something about it is backwards? A little smile appears on his face as it fully dawns on him. MC, I think I’ll be able to assist you in any way you need.

With Satan’s wonderful connections across the entire Devildom, it wasn’t long before you were getting some of the best treatment possible. The prices seemed a bit scary, but he assured you everything was being taken care of behind the scenes. If you needed to worry about anything, it would be the tiring, long process to come with transitioning. He’ll be sure it goes relatively smoothly for you, though!

Asmodeus

Oh he gets it immediately. Darling why didn’t you just say so in the first place?

He’s dragging you back to your room, rambling the entire time about how he can’t wait to take you out and go shopping. He puts together a devious little page to gather up donations and the like to support your transitioning. His fans would be HONORED to pitch in, right?

In the mean time, he stops pampering you with makeup and his other routines that you used to tolerate for the sake of being cordial. He still pushes for the nail polish, since gender is simply a social concept and he’s ready to crush it into dust any chance he can get. But it’s not about him, it’s about you.

Soon your room is painted a new color, your dresses and skirts and frilly outfits are tossed out for more appropriate attire for your sex, and he’s taking photos for his Devilgram page to show everyone how beautiful you are, even while going through the long process!

Beelzebub

You and Beel got along fabulously. He seemed astonished that a female was interested in all these manly habits he indulged in. He heard from some of the guys on his team that you were interested in playing Fangol. As evidenced by how you always showed up to his practices and games, no matter if they were home or away.

He figured you were just a really big fan of sports. But then you even started working out with him, and giving him suggestions and tips on how to get even more out of his workouts at the gym. You were really passionate about this.

Let’s not kid ourselves, he probably does not pick up on any of the signs. You have tot ell him, and you have to tell him firmly. You are a man, just like him. When you do tell him, however, he’s eager to help you transition. Imagine having another guy in the house who loves Fangol as much as you do!?

He isn’t much aside from emotional support through the transitions, and he coddles you when you have those bad days. If you want to eat something, he’ll rush to the kitchen and cook you a full meal before you move an inch. You’re allowed to lay in bed today. Let him handle the heavy load of work for you.

Belphegor

Oh wow, look at that. He picked it up almost immediately.

I mean, there’s no way a girl would act the way you do, right? Dress the way you do. Be the way you are. He doesn’t care though, and just wants you to be happy. If that means you transition into a man, then hell, he’s on board with you.

He may be a lazy bastard, but he knows when it’s time to get up and work hard to get something. That was what he was like as an angel, anyways. Working at Hell’s Kitchen is the worst, and you hear him complain about as much, but he smiles and assures you that it’s all for a good reason.

His final gift to you to apologize about the Incident, is money. Now at first glance it seems like something Mammon would do. Probably. In reality though, this is the money that will be going towards your HRT. He doesn’t know if you want to fully transition or not, but if you want that top surgery, he can help pay for that too. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and healthy in your own body.

Diavolo

It really is a house of men, isn’t it?

He’s glad though, truly, that you were comfortable coming to him about it. Don’t bother ever opening your wallet to pay for any therapy, medication, or surgery. As the Prince of the Devildom, he would be more than happy to get you doctors of all sorts to help you. No questions asked!

It might be a bit overwhelming at first, but the news is exciting. If the Prince accepts you so readily, it gives you hope that other demons will as well. Pretty soon you’re going through your processes, and Diavolo couldn’t be happier to see it happening.

You really is a wonderful guy, and he’s glad he’s getting to experience the changes you take in your life. 

Barbatos

To say he didn’t suspect this would be an understatement.

Ever silent and respectful though, he never spoke a word of it. You are probably uncomfortable with people assuming it, even though it’s true. An insecurity that humans seem to deal with, although unfortunate.

However, when the news is broken during a meeting between you, Lucifer, he, and the Prince himself, a smile creeps on his face.

He’s happy to hear that you are so comfortable speaking about this sort of thing. He knows it must be tough, having hidden your true feelings for so long. He prepares a delicious tea with small treats, to celebrate your coming out, and transitioning.

Simeon (and Luke)

Oh dear. God loves you, still. Don’t worry about this. He doesn’t see you as an imperfection.

They assures you constantly that you have their full support, and that will never change. You are not broken, you are not unwanted, and you are not strange. You are a regular trans man in their eyes, and they will defend you on that.

Simeon almost takes on a fatherly role to you, wanting to make sure everything goes as smooth as possible. He probably has done a bit of research in preparations for your transition, and all the nasty little side effects that come with it are worrying him.

However, once it’s all over, Luke and Simeon are glad you came out on top. And my, what a handsome man you make!

Solomon

He figured, but didn’t want to assume. I mean, who the hell is he?

He’s got a few spells for this though, make it quick and painless. One wave of a wand and POOF! Woman no more!

Oh but that’s probably dangerous. The shifty bastard. You would much rather do it the regular way; and not have your insides and outsides shifted around by some crazy sorcerer.

He doesn’t protest much, but that does suck. Hehe. Oh well. You can count on him to support you through it all!

[lover-of-trash-and-people]

shadow and bone rewatch s1e6 while drinking mid-range scotch

I wish I have a face that is as unlined and pretty as Ben Barnes' when I'm 39

Arken you dirty dirty liar

the face Alek is making at his lies that he knows are lies firstly because he knows the art of lying so well and also because he can read people very well

okay Ivan is kind of a bad bitch with his smirk at Arken's lies

alek's eyes narrowing and his little smile when Arken says 'im an entertainer' bitch I love this show

*grabs hand, pulls up sleeve, and discovers Arken's hand is full of marks indicating successful passages through the fold* 'well, that is certainly entertaining' I love this man with all my heart

him screaming is so fucking hot, is that weird for me to say

Nina being the Darkling's spy is quite interesting

Ben giving the Darkling crazy eyes when Arken owns up to his guilt is so cool

also wtf is Arken a fool trying to negotiate with possibly the strongest man in the world

kind of loved the darkness literally eating him

also love Alina learning to use her powers better when she is alone than when she is with anyone else, wish we got to see the cut in this season as per the books, ah can't have everything I guess

the camera pan to Jesper's gun at his side, amazing

god Jessie is literally so beautiful I need to see her bring Alina to the peak of her power so bad

netflix you better renew this series to let the plot run to its completion

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY CAST THE CROWS SO PERFECTLY

INEJ FUCKING TREMBLING JUST THE TINIEST BIT AS SHE BOWS SLIGHTLY TO ALINA SGSHSBSJJSJSSJ MY TWO QUEENS

'And where is my Summoner?' my little Darklina heart ouchie I really wish you hadn't used and manipulated her like this Alek it was incredibly fucked up especially considering you actually caught feelings

'Ivan and I won't fail you' oh Fedyor my baby, my angel, you don't deserve what is coming

Helnik literally recreating Titanic lmao stop this is a joke

I too would jump off the raft if I came to consciousness to see a gorgeous woman with magical powers with her hand on my back

omg but why is ryevost so pretty though

'I know exactly how she felt. The King's soldiers treated me the same way... I'm not myself today.' why must you do this to me, why must you fuel my darklina soulmates agenda idiocy

I don't quite think I have a problem with the Zoya Darkling relationship as much as I have a problem with the line they chose to reveal it to use with.

my drink's over and I don't know if I should have another, considering that it's 7 am

the tenderness with which he looks at Zoya and takes her hand and then when he says 'I shall relax when I have Alina' makes me believe more that the man that is reduced to tears time and again in front of Alina could in fact be the master manipulator I know him to be

god I can't wait for Zoya's character arc

'I speak six languages, it's part of my job' why is Nina literally the fucking coolest

Alina blinding the oprichniki was so hot, I can't wait to see more of her power and her ruthlessness

I know I've said it before but good god is Jessie Mei Li gorgeous

HER LITTLE SMILE AMONGST ALL THE PANIC AS SOON AS SHE SEES MAL, THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY

THE SCORE COMING IN AT THE RIGHT MOMENT, THEIR HANDS MEETING, HER SMILE AGAIN DHDHSBSNSNSNSNAN IM IN PAIN

REALLY?! YOU'RE GONNA GO DIRECTLY FROM MALINA TO HELNIK WITH NO CONCERN FOR MY HEART?

I simply cannot get over Calahan's accent lmao it's really funny

'im not afraid of you' he says to the insanely gorgeous girl with magic

HIM HANGING HIS HEAD IN DEFEAT TO INDICATE NINA HAS MADE VALID POINTS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CAN'T BREATHE

'You're just a man. Like all the others.' she says and then forgets her train of thought looking at him as he strips. god I love this

not sleeping all night and then scotch is not a good idea, I think

'I promise not to ravish you' 'I hate the way you talk' her hand on his chest, his hand gripping hers, my fucking heart feels like it's about to explode

good god these shooting locations and sets are so beautiful

Alina throwing the flask at Mal and Mal going 'OI!' I fucking can't, I guess I am a

simp for childhood friends to lovers, give me more of that banter and childhood friend energy, I am thriving

wow it literally seems like they took book! Mal sl*tshaming book! Alina and made show! Alina sl*tshame show! Mal, hmm, interesting

'They would have split us up!' MAL'S LITTLE SMILE AT THIS, and the 'You wrote me letters?' Mal's nod, the Malina yearning stare, the Malina hug, 'thank you for finding me' 'always. I'll always find you.' NO MALINA YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE MADE ME ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL

I understand they had to split time between my ravkan babies and the crows and that is why there were several aspects that were sort of not reflected on enough but Alina's training at the Little Palace, Alina's cut, Mal's personality, a teensy bit of backstory for the crows, maybe one lockpicking scene from my boy Kaz

random note: we have far too many idols and paintings and pictures and whatnot of Hindu deities in our house apart from the specially designed temple (we are Hindus, so maybe it's not that weird but it's a little weird)

Kaz's cane is a literal star, it's so beautiful my heart wants to explode

'Why would Heleen get the Crow Club?' *literally fucking gets up and walks aways instead of answering the fucking question* I LITERALLY CAN'T BREATHE I'M LOSING MY MIND

'I know that voice' WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ME FIGHT FOR PLATONIC SHIPS IN FANDOMS

'We won't starve' omg get you someone who packs food for you when you go on the run together hiding from your ex who wants to capture you and use your powers as a weapon against your consent

Mal looking surprised at her summoning sunlight, Alina looking cautiously at him waiting for him to disapprove or run for the hills in fear or smth like that, 'I'm sorry it took me this long to see you... But I see you now' my dumb little shipper trash heart ouch

they really said we're gonna feed you this part asian couple as the protagonists in this show in 2021 and guess what I'm eating it's really tasty I'm very satisfied as a south asian

NINA'S LITTLE SMILE WHEN MATTHIAS WAKES UP WITH HIS ARM AROUND HER

'I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me' 👀👀👀 BITCH SAID IMMA SPILL THE TEA AND THEN SHE DID

it's 8 am and guess what I'm getting another drink my parents have c*vid and are in govt qu*r*ntine centres there is nobody to supervise or stop me

I too say 'Why do you have to say things like that?' to my pretty crush when she flirts with me

Nina smiling at Matthias bragging about his conservative ways is my aesthetic

'No, it's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall and yet, oh, there you stand.' MY FUCKING QUEEN

Matthias laughing uncontrollably at Nina saying something which isn't even that funny is a whole ass vibe

Kaz Brekker saying 'The Black General' ooh fuck yeah

YESSSS STEP OUT OF THAT CARRIAGE ALL SEXY BLACK GENERAL

isn't alcohol supposed to like kill germs? well, the amount in my system definitely will

I love my crows so much (always but this time particularly for setting that alarm in the stolen carriage)

ooh Polina recognising Inej by the knife yesss let's go writers

this Ivan Jesper showdown is all I needed from life and yet did not know about

Ivan taking off his cloak was, um, sexier than I wanted it to be

I just realised how thirsty I am going to sound in this post

'Has no one told you that keftas are Fabrikator-made and resistant to bullets, hmm?' 'Oh, I do love a challenge' LITERALLY EVERYTHING

im sorry to be pointing out flaws in a perfect show and adaptation but the line delivery on 'You robbed me of my brother, now I'll rob you of your life' from Polina was kind of weak

'You're a-' *gets knocked out with the back of a gun* LMAO we love the hints

got excited at the prospect of kaz v. zoya until I realised they will not be letting the opportunity of kaz v. darkling pass up

my goodness is Amita Suman a splendid actress

I AM NOT KIDDING WHEN I TELL YOU I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW DARKLES EMERGE OUT OF THE SHADOWS IN FRONT OF MY BABY BOY KAZ

THERE BEING ACTUAL FEAR OR ATLEAST DOUBT ON KAZ'S FACE, THE LITTLE BACK STEPS AS

THE DARKLING WALKS TOWARDS HIM, AAAAH I CAN'T

THE DARKLING STOPPING AT KAZ SAYING 'SHE FLED ON HER OWN' AND THE HINT OF TEARS THAT WE SEE IN HIS EYES

'IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR SHE WASN'T INTERESTED IN BEING A CAPTIVE ANYMORE' YOU TELL HIM, KING

*ACTUAL FUCKING TEARS IN THE DARKLING'S EYES AS THE SHADOWS APPROACH*

NOT ME YOWLING LIKE A HYENA THAT THIS CHILD OUTSMARTED THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN EXISTENCE WITH A FAKE MAGIC TRICK

'Are you sure you added enough cloves?' literally warranting a wide ass smile from my queen Alina making my entire fucking day

for some reason, no matter how much I push it from my mind, Ben Barnes dressed up as the Darkling, dancing to 'push it' keeps coming to mind, it's absolutely ridiculous

I got somehow distracted with interviews but good things came out of that as it gave my body the time for the booze to kick in

and I would just like to say that I love Leigh for all she has given me

Alina is so fucking compassionate, I have no much love for her. I can feel her guilt and her sorrow as Mal talks of Mikhail and Dubrov

don't particularly like how the stag plotline is woven in, could have been executed better

'You're afraid you might start to like me?' *flaps furs like a bird's wings in frustration*

'I DO like you' my fucking heart you idiots

the sexual tension is so palpable and the moment is so intimate I simply cannot

OMG SHE FUCKING FELL

that moment where you think he might let her fall despite having read the books and he doesn't and he tells her his name I- <3

YOU DARE TRANSITION FROM A HELNIK SCENE TO A KANEJ SCENE YOU REALLY HAVE NO MERCY FOR MY HEART HUH

people have talked about this endlessly but Freddie's little jaw tic after he says Inej because Inej is wounded and he can't physically bring himself to help her I fucking cannot

THE MUSIC PICKING UP AS KAZ LOOKS TO THE DARKLING'S CARRIAGE I CAN'T WITH THIS SHOW ANYMORE

and now for one of my favorite scenes in television and cinematic history, David Kostyk throwing a book at Jesper Fahey without even knowing who he is merely because he opens the door of his carriage and says hello to him before getting knocked out by Kaz Brekker while trying to run away

Immediately followed by another, the scene with David Kostyk raising his finger to put forward his point in front of the Darkling and the Darkling trying to let him know he doesn't have to before obliging is one of my favourite scenes in the world

also sir please stop being devastatingly attractive in your glorious appearance with your face and your black kefta and cloak because all that comes to mind is Ayesha Erotica's Emo Boy and I'm afraid that is terribly inappropriate.

'No, you look great.' *literally looks down from embarrassment or blushing* MALINA RIGHTS?

THE LOOK ON THE DARKLING'S FACE BEFORE HE SAYS 'NO ORDINARY TRACKER, NO ORDINARY GIRL' BITCH IM OUT OF BREATH

'ORPHANS OF KERAMZIN, REUNITED.' 'ADORABLE.' HE FUCKING SNEERED IRL I FUCKING CANNOT

GOD IT'S SO GOOD

[seasonsofeverlark]

Hope Lies In Tomorrow

Author: @mega-aulover​

Prompt: Katniss is caught crossing the fence by peacekeepers. Serves time. Conditions of parole: employment nearby (busy bakery?) and reporting weekly to the parole officer (Haymitch?) Will she find anything to be thankful for this thanksgiving [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Rating: M (Because, well, it will get to that status. There will be violence and mentions of abuse, and some characters are off canon.)

Author’s Notes: This story took me for a loop. I couldn’t resist it. I tried to make it light and fun, but it just wanted to be a freight train to the gut. The words “serves time.” I kept on getting back to that, and my imagination just took flight so much that the first two chapters are about 9.5K words. I promise chapter 3 will be a painful doozy. Special thanks to @norbertsmom​.

     Chapter One

The spotlight made Katniss wince as she distinctly heard Darius say, “Pluck a duck,” into the cold dark night.

“We caught a Poacher!” The young Peacekeeper said out loud. He jumped and clapped his hands like a preschool girl with pigtails who just won a prized sticker. He was one of the new cadets brought in for training. 

Daruis was the new Head Peacekeeper. He earned the promotion when Cray retired. Darius also inherited the group of new Peacekeepers. They were eager rule-following Cadets. 

“Everdeen!” Darius groused.

Katniss sighed. She kept her hands in the air. It was the perfect ending to the worst day. It started with the evil spawn of Buttercup peeing inside her drawer. Things got worse when Gale announced he wasn’t going to be able to join her tonight, and he wouldn’t tell her why either. Then this afternoon she discovered her baby sister, well technically, Prim was seventeen and taller than Katniss, but that’s neither here nor there, she was rolling in the hay with Vick Hawthorne. 

Prim wasn’t supposed to be…. well…sex crazed.  Katniss saw red, took a bucket of ice-cold water, and dumped it on top of the two idiots. Vick was fifteen and, like Gale, looked older than Prim’s baby-faced self. Needless to say, Prim was livid. Vick went home with blue balls. And the arguing match that ensued gave Katniss a massive headache. 

However, finding her sister doing the equivalent of two goats breeding in Lady’s pen was nothing compared to their mothers’ reactions to Prim’s escapade. Euadora Everdeen backed Prim and said, “Prim was doing what came natural.” It was what came next that flabbergasted Katniss. “At least I have one normal daughter.” 

It was the last straw, until this moment.

This day was supposed to go so differently. She’d woken up with so much hope  then things fell apart. But she’d kept thinking, tomorrow, tomorrow would be a brighter day. Just get through today and tomorrow would be a better day.

“Katniss,” Darius growled.

Katniss shrugged. There was nothing Darius could do. If he had been alone, he would have looked the other way.

“I’m sorry, but I have to take you in.” 

She held out her hands; she knew the drill. This wasn’t going to be her first time in the District Twelve lock up. In fact, as Darius pulled her toward the transport, and she quietly climbed into the back, this was all familiar. The last time was at that darned Harvest Fair five years ago.

“This would have been easier had you gone to the Fair,” Darius said.

 Her scowl was instantaneous.

“What,” Darius said, jumping inside of the wagon while the young Peacekeeper closed the door. 

“I’m sorry, Darius. 

“I know, Katniss,” Darius was sympathetic. His communicator crackled with a voice that communicated a code. “Roger that.”

In the semi-darkness Katniss could see Darius teeth as he grinned. 

“Old man Haymitch is going to throw the book at you.” Haymitch and she had a long-standing history. She stayed out of trouble and he wouldn’t bring trouble to her. 

Haymitch Abernathy was the former Victor of the 50th Hunger Games and town drunk. The transition from a government run by one man, President Snow, to one run by a council with a true elected leader were the scariest months in Panem. No one knew what would happen. Fears of retaliation from the former government ran high. The word came down from the Capitol for each district to send a District Liaison.

Haymitch volunteered.  

Turns out the drunken Victor was smart, wilier than anyone could perceive. Haymitch helped form the transition team to create the new charter between the Capitol and the Districts. When he came back, Haymitch could have been elected to become the mayor. He could have taken over the position of Head Peacekeeper, since Cray was from the old regime. Instead, Haymitch made up a position, the town Magistrate. Every district would have a way to fairly dispense justice, with the Peacekeepers relegated to do just what their name described keeping the peace. From town drunk to judge, this was the world of the new Panem. 

Though Katniss would rather face Haymitch than her mother.

“Has your mother calmed down?”   

Katniss grimaced. It all started with the initiative. Ever since the President  went crazy and abolished the Games, calling it the Lucy Grey Baird initiative, and then promptly dying before anyone could change the law, her mother’s focus changed from reliving the past to finding Katniss a husband.   

Her mother began railing against her plan to stay single. Mind you Katniss was only sixteen at the time and she could only focus on the fact that her baby sister would never again experience a Reaping.

Nope, not her mother, Eudora Everdeen, somewhere between her melancholy that ensued after pa’s death and the cancellation of the 74th Hunger Games, decided to become a holy nightmare, worse than any horror Katniss’s imagination could conjure up. Her mother tried to fix her up with various men throughout the district. Her mother’s sting about her single status was the last straw tonight.

“She’s stopped,” Katniss flinched; it wasn’t the entire truth.

Eudora hadn’t really stopped, there were introductions all of the time. There was Waylon, Adam, Zachary, Jackson, Hank, Lee, Hunter, Davis, Ashley, Samuel, Vernon, Beau, Elijah, not to mention Humperdinck, who was also known as the Goat Man. It was always the same pattern. A subtle introduction, followed by an invitation to tea or supper or both, a run in in the Seam or the Hob, before the guy in question lost interest and her mother went back to the drawing board. Eudora didn’t push, but she didn’t relent either. However, recently, her mother had been quiet. Katniss hoped after 5 years, her mother finally gave up.    

“But?” Darius asked.

The transport shook as it began to move. 

“Nothing.”

“You know, you’re a bad liar.”

“She doesn’t like me being alone.”

“That’s preposterous. I know plenty of women Peacekeepers.”

“You know we are talking about Eudora Everdeen?”

Darius grinned. “You mother did tell one of my new recruits she should leave her hair down because it would make her look pretty. She even asked me when my time was up and if I was interested in courting you.”

“Yup,” Katniss breathed, “that’s my mother.”

“So is it true she tried to pair you with Gale and even Gale got scared.”

“How do you know?” Katniss’ mother first picked Gale, who conversely, after seeing her mother try to manipulate them as a couple, was shocked. One good thing came off Eudora’s meddling. Gale laid off the entire, we-make-sense offer to toast angle, and suddenly became a perfect angel around her and the rogue doubled his efforts around other women to prove that he wasn’t interested in Katniss.  

“You forget how small District Twelve is,“ Darius said looking tired as he rubbed his face.

He’s right. Twelve is the smallest of all the Districts. And nothing stayed buried, just like a piece of coal, it would be eventually unearthed.

"Gale said my mother was loonier than the Goat man when he got drunk on Ripper’s special liquor.” Ripper called her special liquor, the ‘shine.’ There were rumors the shine caused people to do strange things. Katniss wasn’t interested in drinking anything that wasn’t life sustaining. Her only thought was to keep food on the table and maintain the roof over her family’s heads. Just last summer she had to fix the roof all by herself. Drinking or marriage were out of the picture.

When Gale politely said he wasn’t interested in Katniss, her mother was upset, but said she understood that Gale only saw Katniss as a sister. Five years ago, Katniss hoped with her mother’s attempts thwarted, Eudora would give up getting her hitched. Little did she know it wasn’t over by a long shot. 

Darius snorted. “Your name comes up every year." 

"Ugh. I avoid that damned dance every year.” There were three main social events in District Twelve, where parents shoved their young for possible partnerships and couples did coupley things, The Spring Formal, The Harvest Fair, and the Winter Festival. The last of these major social events had been the Harvest Fair.

“Waylon still asks about you every time.”

Katniss groaned hearing that name again. He was Leevy’s brother, who was in Gale’s class. Waylon was the next on her mother’s list. Waylon’s obsession began slowly. He failed his last year of school and became a quasi-associate. He would show up at her locker and want to walk with her to class. At first it was nice. He was Gale’s friend and as long as he didn’t talk, she didn’t mind. When they graduated, he went to work in the mines.  Katniss set up a booth in the Hob selling her jerky.

And for a time, everything was calm. Then he started coming to supper. He tried to become friends with Prim. Her sister thought him weird. Then one day, Waylon tried to kiss her. When she pushed him away, he chased her straight into the forest. Thankfully, he didn’t dare go into the woods. 

The woods became her refuge. As soon as she knew Waylon was let loose of his shift at the mines, he would head straight to the Hob.  Katniss would pack up her booth and run off into the woods. She began hunting at night to get away from him. Also, she sort of used Gale as an unofficial bodyguard to keep Waylon at a distance. Waylon was a sore spot in her relatively short life span. 

“He does?” The words slipped out before they could be stopped. 

“He’s got a thing for you Katniss,” Darius’ voice sounded full of mirth, “He’s one of many in the district.”

“If I weren’t in handcuffs, I’d deck you.”

Darius grinned. “He still shoots Peeta the evil eye.”

At the mention of Peeta’s name, her brain misfires.

Peeta.  

Sigh, strong, capable, dependable, sweet, kind, lovely, delicious…always lurking in her dreams, Peeta. 

That night at the Harvest Fair, every time she saw Waylon come her way she hid. Thankfully Peeta came to her rescue. He asked her to dance and afterwards he escorted her the entire time.

Oh, Peeta tried to keep her out of trouble. He was so nice, and she had no way to pay him for his kindness in rescuing her that night. Even four years later she could still recall every detail. He did admirably despite her lack of social graces, and inability to dance. 

Katniss groaned in the transport, her head leaning up against the metal wall. Dancing with Peeta was heavenly, being with Peeta was indescribable, but Katniss shoved that feeling deep, deep, way deep inside of her, locked it up and only took out that memory in the dead of night. When she was alone in her bed, her fingers drifted to her lady parts and she sought relief from the thoughts of what it would be like to kiss him over and over.  

She had a secret bond with Peeta, a bond she couldn’t shake. “Peeta,” her heart whispered with longing. Katnis hoped Darius couldn’t see how deeply she was affected by her baker. Peeta was the one soul in the district who knew her better than anyone else. 

“So, it’s Peeta you have a thing for. Waylon’s not wrong in giving him the evil eye.” 

Katniss scowled at Darius, causing him to laugh.

“I’d have to be drunk on the shine,” Katniss grumbled. She hoped to redirect Darius, he was so near the truth.

“Katniss,” Darius rubs his face. “Please don’t tell me you’ve drunk the shine.”

“No. Gale swears he has. He said it’s so strong it has the power to peel paint off the walls. Is it true…about you and the shine?” Katniss asked.

Darius became serious.

"So, it isn’t true. I knew Gale was lying."  

Darius cleared his throat. "It made me hallucinate. There are things, Everdeen, you shouldn’t ever try.”  

"Duly noted.”

The transport rolled, and another command came through the radio. Darius “What?”

“Star 451,” the voice answered back.

“Pluck a duck,” Darius whispered angrily. “Are you sure?” 

His angry voice sounded out of control as if he wanted to hit something or someone. The atmosphere changed suddenly. It crackled with foreboding darkness. Katniss tried to ignore it, she knew she was in trouble.

For the rest of the journey Katniss wondered what was going on, what did that Star 451 mean? Katniss noted Darius became quiet, and sullen; all the traces of humor left his face. Darius stopped looking at her as if he couldn’t face her. Finally, the transport came to a halt.

“We’re here.”

Katniss winced, thinking of Haymitch Abernathy, and the uncertainty that faced her outside of the transport.

“Wait for me to get down before you get up,” Darius bit out as the door opened and the cold wind caused Katniss to shiver. 

Katniss wrinkled her nose. Haymitch was going to be a pain in the neck. The last time she’d been before him things were not pleasant.  When she got down, her eyes widened. They weren’t at the Justice building. They were at the Victors Village.

It was one thing to stand in the Justice building, a cold sterile edifice made of white stone. It was another to stand inside of a home. “Darius?”

The transport moved on and there was another waiting, one that did not have any insignia on the side. It was black and it reminded Katniss of the one they used to transport the corpses of the deceased.

“Come on,” Darius said gently, once more avoiding looking at her.

Katniss nodded. She wasn’t someone who let things affect her. She didn’t scare easily, this however, put pure fear in her heart.

Darius escorted her inside of the massive house and guided her into a room by the side. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace. The warmth stung her cold skin. There was a dark wooden desk, two comfortable chairs, and another pair facing the fireplace. “Sit.”

Katniss sat in one of the chairs facing the desk.   

“Give me your hands, Katniss,” Darius said.

Katniss lifted her trembling hands.

“What did I tell you ‘bout keeping your nose out of trouble, Sweetheart?” Haymitch grumbled from the door.

Katniss masked her fear.

Four years ago Gale was sick and couldn’t attend that darned Harvest Fair. Katniss needed a way out, thankfully Peeta rescued her.

Everything was splendid and at one point while staring into his gorgeous blue eyes Katniss was breathless. It was toward the end of the night when his mother, the witch, pulled him away and that’s where all hell broke loose. Accidentally, in her haste to get away from Waylon, a small fire started when one of the glass lamps fell, and broke. Several bales of hay caught fire. It somehow escalated and concluded with a goat stampede down the center of town. 

Her mother blamed Katniss for embarrassing Waylon and his family, and basically setting the fair on fire. Haymitch told her mother that her unfettered meddling would one day cause the destruction of all she held dear. Eudora Everdeen was not amused, nor was she happy with the outcome. Haymitch let Katniss go with a slap on the wrist because her only criminal act was trying to flee the unwanted attention of a man. Plus, thanks to Peeta’s quick thinking, it was only the stage that burned. He and his brothers managed to get the fire out and they built another stage, how they did it in one day, Katniss didn’t know. 

She kept away for the rest of the Harvest Fair, thinking it was better not to remind the community of her stupidity. She’d been lulled under Peeta’s spell. She’d done more than dance and start a fire at that fair. Heat rose from the pit of her belly and flowed to her core and spilled on to her cheeks.

The sound of a chair being scraped on the wood floor caused her bubble to break. Katniss shook her head. Her eyes came back into focus to the present.

“Darius, you can wait outside. Katniss isn’t going to do anything stupid,” Haymitch turned his grey eyes toward her, “are you?” 

Katniss shook her head no. 

Darius nodded and walked outside, closing the door.

Katniss didn’t even bother rubbing her wrists. She balled her hands and rested them at her side.

“You’re probably wondering why you got caught?”

She hadn’t really. Katniss thought it was just a routine inspection. There were bears in the woods and just one week ago the electric fence had been damaged.

“Your mother.”

“What?” Katniss growled. Her lips thinned her anger skyrocketing. Then she thought for a second it couldn’t be. “She wouldn’t…”

“She did, and there wasn’t anything Darius or I could do. We had to arrest you?”

A combination of bitterness and sadness swept into her soul like the bitter winds that brought the frigid winter air. It was one thing to try to get her to marry; it showed that her mother cared. However, handing her over to the authority showed Katniss that her mother had fallen out of love for her. Can a mother un-love a child? It could happen, she supposed, thinking of Peeta’s mother, the witch. That woman only cared for one person, herself.

“Sorry Sweetheart, Darius tried to dissuade her. She said it was time for you to learn what the real world was all about. But instead of leaving it with me and Darius, she went to the Justice building and filed a complaint with Panem’s Bureau of Justice. She got Seneca Crane’s underwear in a twist. He’s demanding you pay for your crimes.”  

Katniss gasped. Seneca Crane was from the old regime. He was the Head Gamemaker of the 74th Hunger Games. His arena was never used. The man was so twisted and evil that he was merciless with those who came under his thumb, and she was one of them. Katniss wondered how someone like him still had power in this new Panem. 

There was no doubt in her mind she was going to serve time. Those who served time were often sent away to another District. She could be sentenced to District Eleven to work in the fields, District Two to work in the mines, or work in District Four in the fish processing plants doing the lowest of menial jobs. “How much time will I be sentenced?

“A year Sweetheart, you can get out early for good behavior, come back here and work the rest of your sentence as a parole.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. She’d never been away from home, never was tempted to escape into the wilds of the forest. Now she was going to be carted out in the middle of the night. She was a blemish to society, unwanted, a problem for her mother. A solitary tear rolled down her face.

Katniss didn’t need handcuffs any more; she was about to be branded as undesirable.

Darius quietly walked in with the machine. They slid her hand in the machine and she cried as the skin of her wrist was seared with an imprint. Cradling her hand she read *451. Now she understood.

“I’m sorry Katniss,” Darius whispered.

Two heavy set men dressed in black came in and pushed her inside of the waiting black transport.

Chapter Two 

Peeta whistled.

“You’re in a good mood,” Norma Jean, his brother Graham’s wife said.  

Norma Jean was his favorite sister in law. Graham had fallen head-over-heels for her. It was funny because before Norma Jean, Graham’s type were tall statuesque thin blondes. Norma Jean was short, and as she put it, rounder than an apple. She was also sweeter than the candy she and Graham sold at the confectioners’ shop.

“I am.” He couldn’t help himself.

Today was Saturday, his favorite day of the week, one because the bakery closed early, and two because Katniss always came by on Saturday to trade with him. No one else. Peeta knew for certain Katniss didn’t trade with anyone else but him.

“Well it’s my favorite day.”

Norma Jean grinned. “Is it because of a certain huntress?”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Hmmm,” Norma Jean said, rubbing her belly, she was heavily pregnant. She was sniffing the air. When pregnant, Norma Jean had the ability to identify different herbs by smell. Her nose was that good.

Peeta kept quiet and wondered how long it would be before she sniffed the cheese buns he had hidden in the back.

“Have you heard from Rye?”

Peeta grinned. “He’s back in District Two.”

Rye was the reason Peeta had inherited the family bakery. With Graham married to Norma Jean, their mother thought Rye would take over the bakery, leaving Peeta out of the inheritance. Then, one-and-a-half years ago Rye announced he wanted to be a Peacekeeper. Nothing their mother said or threatened dissuaded Rye from becoming a Peacekeeper.

“He’s great actually, talked to him last night.”

“Graham’s still upset with him. He didn’t want Rye to sign up to a twenty year commitment to be celibate to serve home and country.”

Peeta recalled. “You know how Rye gets when he wants something.”

“Yeah.” Norma Jean nodded.     

“His training is over, and he’s waiting for his assignment. When we were talking at least ten guys came by to say hello.” Peeta had gotten to know the guys in Rye’s squad. They were from all over Panem.

“Good, I am glad.”

“Won’t Graham miss you?”

“Nope, my sister Virginia is helping him set up; the boys were fast asleep.”

“You do realize today is Saturday and they’re up early on Saturday.” Peeta said.

“Exactly, no one bothers the sweet shop at six in the morning, nine maybe, but six…only those who are craving stuff like me…now, hot buns, give me one of those treat’s you’re saving for your huntress,” Norma Jean demanded.

Peeta shook his head. “I would never deny you anything.”

He walked into the back whistling and grabbed two of the cheese buns he’d saved for himself to share with Katniss.

“For you,” Peeta said, bowing slightly.  

“I haven’t seen you like this since that Harvest Fair?” Norma Jean raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Peeta said.

“You can’t lie to me, Peeta,” Norma Jean said, narrowing her eyes, one fist curled around the cheese bun.

“You’re right,” Peeta said.

“So, it is Katniss,” Norma Jean said.

Peeta could feel the heat raising up to his cheeks. He looked at his reflection in the smooth surface of the metal case; he looked ruddy.

After they graduated, Katniss set up her shop in the Hob. Her jerky was a favorite amongst the residents. Katniss had enough coins to buy everything she needed. She could buy bread, but she didn’t. Their friendship began slowly. At first it was a slight nod, with her cheeks so rosy she couldn’t look him in the eyes.

The Harvest Fair changed everything. They’d been a little tipsy as a result of the hard apple cider Greasy Sae offered them. She’d pulled him into Mr. Plover’s blacksmith and horse barn and kissed him. The kiss got out of hand and one thing led to another. Soon they were in one of the empty horse stalls and tearing their clothing off. Katniss had given him her virginity and he had given her his. When they walked out hand in hand Peeta couldn’t help the goofy grin on his face. He would never forget how soft her eyes looked.

Then his mother came looking for him, and everything became a nightmare. Peeta advocated for Katniss, got his brothers and his friends to clean up and rebuild the stage. Katniss was arrested, and the community shunned her. They took Waylon’s side, no thanks to Mrs. Everdeen. Katniss had never attended another social event after that.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Norma said excitedly.

“Well.” His eyes went to the store front. Mrs. Bernelle came into the store. With Thanksgiving tomorrow Peeta expected a brisk business today.

“Hello Mrs. Bernelle,” Peeta greeted.

“Hello Peeta, Norma Jean.”

“Hello,” Norma Jean said, rubbing her stomach.

 “You’re due any day now?” Mrs. Burnelle said warmly to Norma Jean.

“ Just about.” Norma Jean smiled warmly.

“How can I help you, Mrs. Burnelle,” Peeta said, wanting Mrs. Burnelle out of the store so that he could speak to Norma Jean.

“May I have a dozen of your dinner rolls, but only the freshest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peeta said, grabbing a brown paper bag. He quickly dispensed the rolls.”

Mrs. Burnelle smelled the bread, “These smell delicious,” she leaned over and with a mischievous lilt in her voice. “Don’t tell you father, but you are the better baker.”

“I won’t,” Peeta laughed. “Is that all for today?”

“Yes.” She had the exact amount. She put it on the counter. “Thank you Peeta and Happy Thanksgiving.”

Thanksgiving became a national Holiday after the treaty between the Capitol and the Districts was ratified as law. A day for both sides to come together and celebrate everlasting peace and tranquility and celebrated with a big meal. Normally the Capitol sent all of the Districts a parcel with some sort of treat. Each year a District was selected to make a parcel to send to the Capitol. District Twelve had yet to be selected.   

“Thank you, you too,” Peeta said. He waited until the door was closed before he turned his attention back to Norma Jean.

“Whatever you have to tell me has got to be really good for you to be acting like you did four years ago?”  

Peeta sighed happily.

“Did something happen between you two?”

Norma Jean knew all. Peeta confided in her. When Katniss didn’t show up that Saturday after the Fair, she encouraged him to seek out Katniss. Peeta gathered his courage and found her at the Hob. She looked like hell and she wouldn’t even look at him in the eyes. Peeta found out from Greasy Sae, no one was buying her jerky.

Peeta brazenly bought her jerky and told her he’d run out of squirrels. Then he sent Norma Jean, and Norma sent Rye, and Rye sent Delly to buy her jerky. Delly sent someone else and so forth. There was no way he was going to allow the people of District Twelve to turn their backs on Katniss.

The following Saturday he found a package at his doorstep. Norma Jean packed up some bread and told him to pay her for her game meat. He’d gone down to the Hob and put the bread on her table and told her she’d forgotten her payment before he walked away.

This went on for weeks until she came by and shyly waited to make the exchange. Every Saturday he’d do his best to tamp down his own yearnings because Katniss needed a friend. He made it his mission to befriend her. Like a flower blossoming she opened up to him.  

Peeta remained tight lipped.

Mrs. Evangeline walked into the shop.

“Good Morning Mrs. Evangeline,” Peeta greeted, but he could see Norma Jean wanted to shove the nosy woman out of the bakery.

“Hello Peeta,” Mrs. Evangeline said with her list in hand. She nodded at Norma Jean. This morning Mrs. Evangeline was in battle mode. “I am in a rush this morning. I have to get to the butchers before the best cut of meat is taken,” she muttered. 

“What can I help you with today?”

“My daughter is coming home with her new husband and I need her favorite bread, a baguette.”

“Oh yes, I remember Rosalee loves the sourdough with Mrs. Caries strawberry preserves.”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Evangeline said. “May I also have a loaf of the sourdough?”

“Absolutely,” Peeta said.

“Thank you Peeta, you always remember everything,” Mrs. Evangeline gushed.

“It’s no problem,” Peeta smiled but he saw Norma Jean’s impatience.

“So, when you are due?” Mrs. Evangeline asked Norma Jean.

“Any day now,” Norma Jean answered.

Peeta bagged the baguettes and the loaf of Sourdough. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Evangeline. “How much?”

“Ten credits,” Peeta said.

Mrs. Evangeline took out her credits and paid Peeta. “Thank you and happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.”

“Thank you, you too.” Peeta waved as Mrs. Evangeline left.

“Finally,” Norma Jean exclaimed.

Peeta shrugged not wanting to give anything away.

“I thought she’d never leave,” Norma Jean huffed.   

He feigned innocence.

“Okay hot stuff, what happened? And don’t spare any details. I know Katniss has been coming here every Saturday for the past three years.”

Norma Jean wasn’t wrong. Katniss had been coming to the bakery every Saturday.  She’d knock on his door precisely at nine in the morning. They would talk and sometimes she’d linger to drink tea. Recently he began showing her some new recipe he’d been working on.

Peeta grabbed a cleanser and a squeegee and wiped down the counter.

“Uh-uh…none of those diversionary tactics!”

Peeta put his hands in the air.

“Go on, what happened?” Norma Jean fixed with him the mommy glare.

“We kissed,” Peeta whispered.

“What,” she screeched. “When?”

“Last week.”

“Okay, more!”

“Katniss came to the door, we traded, we drank tea. I introduced her to my newest creation. These cheese buns. And I saw that same sparkle in her eyes, as the night of the Fair. I do not exactly know how it happened. But we kissed.” How precisely their lips met Peeta was still fuzzy on that, but he did recall the desire and longing that shot through him like the fireworks that lit the sky at Thanksgiving. Her lips were soft and warm, and he marveled once more at the taste of wild berries, sweet and tart, crisp and delicious.   

“Good for you,” Norma Jean said. “Are you guys going to talk today, going to, you know, talk about getting together?”

“I hope so. I’ve waited so long for her to see me, and not just as a friend.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Norma Jean said. Her eyes looked past him above him at the clock, and she groaned, picking up her packages. “I’m late, I have to drop this off at your mother’s house.”

“Good luck,” Peeta grinned.

“Nothing to it,” she rubbed her expanded belly. “Your mother is always rainbows and hearts when I’m pregnant. She keeps on expecting a girl. Sadly, I keep on producing strong Mellark men, much to your father’s delight. He loves his grandchildren. But not as much as your brother loves to keep me fat and round.”

“Norma Jean, you’re not fat,” Peeta replied.

“And that’s why my wife prefers you over me.” Graham came into the shop with his twin boys, one in each arm. Their other child was wrapped around his ankle.

Norma Jean patted Peeta’s hand. “Graham is the grouchy one and Rye is the wild one and you, Peeta are the good Mellark. You’re the hot goods every girl in District Twelve wants to get her grubby hands on, but only one can have.”

“Please don’t call my baby brother hot in front of me,” Graham whined.

Norma Jean grinned wickedly. “Sorry Graham we both know that even Rye with all of his wild ways isn’t as hot as Peeta.”

“Evil woman,” Graham said, handing one of his boys to Peeta.

“Hey buddy!” Peeta grabbed Malcom and tossed him in the air. 

“Uncle Peeta,” his twin brother Marvin shouted. “Me, I’m next.”

Martin who was wrapped around Graham’s ankle popped up, “Me too, me too.”

Peeta loved his nephews.

“Boys,” Norma Jean said with that firm mommy voice they listened to.

“Yes mama?” All boys said with rapt attention.

���Your uncle is working. He will wrestle with you tomorrow,” Norma Jean said.  

All three boys nodded their pale blue eyes wide with excitement.

“Here’s a cookie for each of you,” Peeta said, taking three plain cookies out. Norma and Graham were careful about the sugar the kids ate. “Why don’t you guys sit at the table and eat the cookies?”

All three of them scampered to the table and sat, eating.

“So if uncle Peeta comes over then maybe mommy and me can…”

“Nope,” Norma Jean said. “Peeta and mommy have serious girl stuff going on.”

“Seriously,” Graham settled his eyes on Peeta. “What the heck? What kind of pull do you have over the ladies?”

“I told you Peeta’s the hot one,” Norma Jean winked. But then placed a playful kiss on Graham’s lips.

Graham stared lovingly into Norma Jean’s eyes then turned to Peeta and playfully growled, “She’s mine, all mine.”

“I know,” Peeta shrugged. “Besides, she’s not my type.”

“I’m not,” Norma Jean said. Then she stood on tiptoe to place a small kiss on Graham’s chin. “If we leave the kids today at grampa’s, maybe we can have a private chat about my candy shop, after we close at noon?”

“Oh,” Graham said, his voice brightening.  

Peeta was grossed out by the innuendo.

“Okay, Mellark Clan, march out,” Graham said. “We’re going to grandpa’s.”

The store emptied of his brother’s family, but then the customers came in filling the store for two solid hours. As the time neared 9 o’clock, Peeta started whistling.

Nothing could get him down.  

He had the tea prepared, he had cream, and plenty of sugar. Peeta grimaced. How Katniss could drink her tea that way, he didn’t know, but Katniss loved her tea with loads of cream and sugar. He whistled as he wiped down the display cases.

He looked at the clock, 9 o’clock. His gut twisted, anticipating her soft knock. But it didn’t come. He put his cloth away and walked to the back door.

He opened the door looking to see if he could spot her trademark bag or braided hair. He worried something was wrong. Katniss wouldn’t have stayed away. He knew kissing her could have been a mistake and maybe she was regretting the kiss. Peeta shook his head. This was different. Something felt off and he didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t put his finger on it either.

Peeta looked at the clock, she was fifteen minutes late. Katniss was never late; she was alway punctual. He was truly worried, maybe she’d gotten into another argument with her mother over her single status. Mrs. Everdeen was dogged in her search for a husband for Katniss. All of the men Mrs. Everdeen picked for Katniss were strong minded individuals. Men who liked to be in charge. Peeta chuckled, Katniss didn’t need a domineering guy. Anyone with her same fire would cause them both to combust. 

These four years Peeta had gotten to know Katniss, and from what he gleaned she  needed someone who treated her as equal or someone to balance her fire. Someone who understood the value of partnership. Peeta hoped he was that man for her. 

He once more looked at the clock and another five minutes went by. Foreboding crept inside of his being, causing the hairs of his neck to stand on end. The last time he felt that was right before the fire. Something was wrong. 

“Where are you, Kat?” Peeta asked. He had half a mind to close the shop and walk to her home in the Seam. 

The bell to the front door rang. He sighed then went to the front. Though his mind was made up, he was going to close up shop and head to the Seam as soon as he finished with the patron waiting for him.  

“Dad?”

“Son,” his father glanced at him and there was concern in his eyes.

His father hardly came to the bakery now that he had retired. His parents moved to a house just outside the central market. His father enjoyed gardening and canning. He enjoyed his little group of other gardeners. His mother didn’t like the sedate life but she didn’t really have much of a say.

“What’s going on dad?”

“I came to check on you,” his father searched his eyes.

“Dad, you’re acting weird,” Peeta said, frowning. 

His father was uneasy, his feet shifted, his hands were buried deep in his pocket, and there was something about the way that his dad looked at him reminded Peeta of the day that his dad sat him down and talked about what it meant to be the third son of a baker. It was one of the hardest conversations they’d ever had. Peeta loved the bakery, loved the smell of yeast, and yes even though he didn’t like the heat, he loved the smell of the hot ovens. There was something immensely enjoyable about seeing the awe and wonder in a customer’s face when he delivered a cake for a special occasion. 

He hoped one day to see that same awe and wonder in Katniss’ face, if he could only find her talk to her.

His father cleared his throat.

“What is it dad?” Peeta said, walking to the shop door and flipping the sign from open to close. He closed the door. Peeta squared his shoulders waiting for whatever news his father had for him.

“Son,” his father drifted off. He closed his eyes then said, “…it’s about Katniss…”

“What about Katniss,” Peeta couldn’t believe how calm his voice was. He should have been freaking out. His father knew how important Katniss was to him, though he didn’t know the extent of their friendship.

“She’s been arrested.”

That feeling in his gut that told him Katniss wasn’t okay, caused Peeta’s senses to sharpen. He needed to help her get out of trouble. He stalked to the cash register as if it was his mortal enemy, opening the drawer he took out all of the credits and emptied it into a bag. “I’m going to Darius; what’s her bail?”

 “She was caught last night in the middle of the night, with squirrels, poaching.”

Peeta’s heart stopped beating. She’d been hunting for him. At least now he knew Katniss wasn’t running from him. His mind quickly formulated a plan. He walked to the back and put his coat on. As he walked, he talked, “Fine I can talk to Haymitch, tell him why.”

“Son,” his father’s grave voice let Peeta know there was more. His father put his hands on his shoulder. Peeta was still. He didn’t want to know more but he knew he needed to listen. “Her mother.”

“What has she done now?” Peeta didn’t wait; he shook his head. “No, I need to see Haymitch.” Peeta ran out of the back door and speedily ran to the Justice Building. He tore up the stairs taking them two at a time. She’d spent the night in jail.

He didn’t even bother talking to Haymitch’s assistant Anna.

“Mr. Mellark, you can’t go in there,” Anna stood.

Peeta had never been uncourteous to anyone. He was always kind, always aware of other’s feelings. It’s why his mother thought him soft, but he wasn’t really. Not when it came to Katniss. He loved her, and for Katniss he would give up his life.

“Anna,” Peeta growled, and her eyes opened wide as if she’d encountered a feral beast in the meadow.

She stepped to the side.

Peeta barged right through into Haymitch’s office. The last time he’d been here he was eighteen. Desperate to help Katniss. He wasn’t a kid anymore; he was a man, a man who was willing to move heaven and earth for the woman he loved.

Haymitch had a drink on his desk, and an opened bottle. Another was tossed into the waste paper basket. His office smelled of malt whisky and white liquor. Peeta hadn’t seen Haymitch drunk in years. Not since he was fifteen.  His eyes swept the room and he noted Haymitch was not alone.

Mrs. Everdeen and her sister Primrose stood in a corner. Mrs. Everdeen looked surprised to see him. Her pale blue eyes were like stones in a river, hard and cold. Her sister Primrose stood away from her mother. Her arms clamped around her middle. Her eyes were red rimmed and her nose was bright red. The rest of her, her face, hands, and legs looked pale, ashen really.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to get here,” Haymitch rasped gruffly.

“Where’s Katniss?” he demanded.

“Boy, sit, have a drink,” Haymitch said, pointing to the two chairs in front of his desk.

“No, where’s Katniss and how much to bail her out?”

Haymitch rubbed his face. “When I took this job on I did it because I knew that the people didn’t trust Cray or any Head Peacekeepers to make the laws just. I set up this position for each district so that they could have one of their own to make decisions on their cases. I specifically set it up with loopholes so that no party could have the ultimate power over the other.”

Haymitch gave Mrs. Everdeen a scathing look.

Mrs. Everdeen lifted her nose. “I only did what was right. She was poaching.” Her voice was filled with indignation, as if she couldn’t understand why she was being reprimanded.   

“Eudora, what you did was send an innocent girl into hell because of your stupid pride. You’re no better than the folks that tossed you out into the street when you chose to marry Jack,” Haymitch barked.

Peeta noted how Eudora blinked and her eyes flickered with momentary pain before they went back to that cool indifference. Katniss had a similar look, but unlike Mrs. Everdeen’s which held no personality depth, Katniss’ look always showed a small bit of vulnerability, compassion, fiery resistance and some trace of emotion. Peeta could spend a lifetime examining Katniss’ smallest gestures.

“What happened, Haymitch, where’s Katniss?”

“I don’t see why he should be here,” Eudora said coolly.

“He has every right to be here,” Haymitch said, standing up. “That boy is the one fella your daughter loves.”  

Eudora’s eyes widened with shock and she looked at Peeta, really looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. She shook her head, “No, not him, she doesn’t love him. She doesn’t even know him.”

“She does, mama,” Primrose said.

“Katniss was caught poaching for me,” Peeta said quietly. “Every Saturday she comes to my shop and we trade, and talk…” Peeta looked at Haymitch, “Where is she? I need to see her?”

Her mother suddenly looked pale.

“Eudora tipped Darius about Katniss poaching on Fridays late in the evening. I guess she thought Darius wasn’t going to do anything and filed a complaint to Panem’s Bureau of Justice. It got to Crane; that bastard ordered me to hand her over for justice.”

“No,” Peeta roared. He stood up, his eyes landing on Mrs. Everdeen. Prim stood at his side.

“No,” Prim said quietly.

His hands were stretched out resting on Mrs. Everdeen’s neck.

“Boy,” Haymitch ordered.

Mrs. Everdeen’s eyes were wider than saucers. Her body trembled underneath his fingers. There were horror stories about landing in the clutches of Seneca Crane. “Do you realize Katniss can be killed because she was bringing me squirrels.” His voice cracked. Tears stung his eyes. He let go of Mrs. Everdeen and sat in the chair.

“Momma, you’d done wrong.”

“Primrose, I wasn’t going to let her stop you from marrying. I wasn’t going to let her…”

“MOMMA!” Primrose squeaked.

Mrs. Everdeen became quiet.

“If you bothered to get to know Katniss, you would know that she would never stop me from getting married if that’s what I wanted. You would know that all Katniss wants is for me to be happy. Yes, I got mad at her for walking in on me and Vick.” Prim stopped, wiping the tears from her face. “But I know she did it because she loves me and she did not want me to foolishly get pregnant.” Prim squared her shoulders.

Peeta raised an eyebrow; he’d never seen this side to Katniss’ sister. Prim was a sweet girl, innocent, loving and caring. The girl before him had grit and integrity, something she learned from Katniss. Prim leveled a look at her mother before turning to look at Peeta.

“Yesterday she said she knew what it was like to get carried away in the arms of a man that loved you so much it hurt. She knew what it was like to give into pleasure so deep without thought of the future. She told me she didn’t want me to go through the worry of a pregnancy scare.”

Peeta’s hands gripped the arm of the chair he sat in. Katniss thought she was pregnant. He could just imagine her terror. He thought she’d been avoiding him because of the fire; he didn’t know it was because she didn’t know if they’d made a baby together. Katniss was right to be scared. They weren’t ready back then. He had no future and she still had her sister to rear. He looked up to Prim and nodded acknowledging her words.

“You and Katniss,” her mother sounded brittle.

“No Momma, don’t redirect; look at me,” Prim ordered.

Mrs. Everdeen looked at her youngest daughter.

“If you would have taken the time to get to know your eldest daughter, you’d know she sacrificed herself for me.  I made her promise me that after I graduated that she would follow her dreams. Katniss promised me,” Prim looked at Peeta. “She’d promised me she’d talk to you, Peeta.”

“I,” Mrs. Everdeen said.

“Katniss helped me, after I graduate, I was going to go to District 3. Dr. Jensen helped me get into an accelerated course in medicine. Everything is set up.” Prim’s voice sounded watery, she had tears running down her face. “Now I can’t go knowing my sister is in the hands of that butcher.”

Mrs. Everdeen flinched.  

Peeta stood and gently held Prim in his arms as she cried. “I don’t understand how you could do this to Katniss. I don’t understand how you could betray her when all she’s ever done is to put food on your table and keep a roof over your head. She is the most selfless person. The most loyal. All Katniss has ever done is tried to protect her family, yet you betrayed her.”

“I did it for her own good. I didn’t betray her.” Mrs. Everdeen stood straighter. “This new regime, it may not last forever. There are men like Seneca Crane out there who are vying for power. What if one of them becomes president and then we end up worse? Katniss is a foolish child. I had to do what I thought was best for Katniss, and taking away her ability to hunt was the only way I could think of to get her to think…to see how dangerous this world was.”

“What you did was feed her to the wolves,” Peeta spat. “They called my mother the witch, but you lady, you are a cold hearted bitch.”

Mrs. Everdeen’s eyes became colder. “Primrose we are leaving.”

“No momma,” Prim said, shaking her head. “I’m not going back to that house. I’m gonna to do everything in my power for my sister.” 

“How long?” Peeta asked Haymich.

“A year,” Haymitch sighed. He looked tired and drained as he spoke, “Maybe less for good behavior.”  

“Where?” Peeta asked.

“District Two.”

Hope bloomed in Peeta’s chest. “My brother is in District 2, maybe he can watch out for Katniss, keep an eye on her, and make sure nothing happens to her.”

“You think Rye would do that?”

“Yeah, he would,” Peeta said. Then he turned to Haymitch and  asked, “What happens when… if she gets out for good behavior?”

“If Crane’s people let her go for good behavior, and I doubt it’ll happen, Katniss will be paroled and required to work the rest of her sentence.”

“I want her assigned to me. She can work off the rest of her parole in my bakery. She can live under my roof and I can take care of her.”

“Okay I can do that.” Haymitch sat down at his desk. He pushed the bottle and the glass into the waste paper basket. He took out a form.

“Wait, what’s going on,” Mrs. Everdeen said.

“There’s no way I’m going to give up on Katniss. When she gets out of there she’s going to need a home, a place where she can be safe, and know that she’s wanted and loved.”

“What will your mother say?”

“My mother has no decision in the bakery or how it’s run. The bakery became mine last year when my father and Rye signed it over to me. Believe me, I’m going to make a Katniss campaign and when she comes back everyone in town will welcome her with open arms.”

“Haymitch,” Prim said, stepping out of Peeta’s arms. She sat in the chair facing his desk. “You said Seneca might not let her be released for good behavior. Does that mean he will make sure that she serves out her full sentence?’

“Yes, that rat bastard makes all of his victims pay.” Haymitch set the paperwork aside. His eyes though, were churning as if he was working on a puzzle.

“Then how can we make sure, or what can we do to make certain Crane has to shorten my sister’s sentence?” Prim asked on the edge of her chair. 

“What are you thinking about?” Peeta asked, sitting down in the empty chair. 

Haymitch opened his drawer and pulled out a slim electronic device. Because District 12 was the outlying district, and it was the poorest one, it dealt mostly with papers. However, there were things that needed to be done with the fancy electronics that the Capitol favored. 

Peeta had a computer at the bakery, it was one of the first things he splurged on. It helped him maintain his accounting and supplies. It also was a way for him to get incontact with his brother in District Two.

“This is a computer, and it contains all of the bylaws of Panem. When we set up the justice system, I wanted to make sure there was a catch. Our newly appointed President Paylor helped come up with this. I had forgotten about it until this moment, Prim.”

“What is it?” Prim asked, voicing what Peeta was asking himself.

“Ha!” Haymitch said triumphantly. “There is a clause in the law that stipulates that family members can step in and volunteer for family in case they unjustly fall into the hands of Panem’s Bureau of Justice. Your sister was caught with two squirrels at the time she was caught poaching. Now poaching is a serious offense. But squirrel hunting is completely legal. In fact it just happens to be hunting season for the little critters.”

“So in reality all Katniss did was get caught crossing the fence,” Peeta said.

“And that is a lesser offence than poaching.” Haymitch turned to Primrose. “Which means that her conviction is unjust and a family member can volunteer to work some of her time off here in the district. If someone volunteers, Katniss’ hard labor sentence will be cut in half, but she’ll still have to be paroled.”

“Six months of labor?” Prim whispered, before looking to Haymitch and asking. “Will I be able to finish school?”

“I don’t see why not, we just need someone to take you in for six months for you to work for them for free.”

“No,” Mrs. Everdeen said.

“I’m seventeen Momma, well past the age of consent in Panem,” Prim said.

“I forbade you,” Mrs. Everdeen said, stomping her foot.

“Haymitch, I volunteer for my sister. I volunteer to work off of her debt.”

“YOU CAN’T!” 

Prim turned to her mother. “This is all your doing Momma, if you’d let Katniss alone, she’d be with Peeta now talking about the future. Talking to the man she loved about a toasting, children, everything she denied herself for a long time. But you wanted to punish her. You wanted to punish her for looking like Papa, for being his daughter. For always doing the right thing even if it meant going against your archaic wishes. Now you will take the punishment the way I am sure Katniss took hers, with dignity.” Turning to Haymitch Prim said, “Where do I sign?”

Mrs. Everdeen cried, and ran out of the room.

Peeta turned to Prim. “Will she be alright?”

“No,” Prim said. “But Katniss was right; our mother is selfish. I didn’t see it until now. She thinks what she did is justified, that she did the right thing. But she didn’t and now it’s up to us to save Katniss.”

“You’re a lot like her,” Peeta said.

“Thank you, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Prim said.

“I think we need to get my sister-in-law,” Peeta said to Haymitch.

“Norma Jean,” Haymitch said.

My sister-in-law is pregnant with her fourth child. She said she is ready to give birth any time. Anyways, her sister Virginia’s getting married in a month to Jason Swanson, the railroad engineer’s son. Once she gets married, she’s going to work full time there, which means my brother will be alone in the store. They’re going to need help, and I know Norma Jean would never treat you poorly. She’s the only one I trust to help out. My brother Graham will pretty much do anything Norma Jean says.”

“Anne,” Haymitch barked.

Anne walked in, “Yes, Mr. Abernathy?”

“Go have one of Darius’ do-gooders get Peeta’s brother and sister-in-law here,” Haymitch grabbed another piece of paper. “We’re going to save Sweetheart’s butt.”

Peeta sat back, but he knew the battle was far from over. That night he called his brother. His brother was like him, but his features weren’t as soft. His face was angular, and his blonde hair was darker and it was curlier, though you couldn’t tell since he was sporting a buzz cut.

“Hey Peeta,”

“Rye I need…”

“Don’t I know. I heard about Katniss. It’s all everyone is talking about. The girl whose mother betrayed her for you. I’m kind of a celebrity now.”  

“You saw her?”

“No, she’s been put deep in the tunnels. The star squad is so deep they don’t surface for months at a time. Communication down there is only done when necessary.”

“Will you keep me apprised if you do see her, take care of her for me?” Peeta asked.

Rye nodded then he said, “Did Graham really say yes to Primrose staying with him?”

“Yeah,” Peeta smiled ruefully. He was tired and he wished he could have done more.

“Huh, was it Norma Jean?”

“No, he volunteered when he heard what happened to Katniss, before I could even ask.”

“Really, I guess he’s not like mom.”

“Nope, if he were like mom he would have married Esme Smith.”

Rye laughed. “I forgot about Esme; man you know she popped my cherry.”

“Rye, really, I don’t need to know your escapades,” Peeta joked but it didn’t reach his eyes. Rye was trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working.

“Look Peeta, I know Katniss is your girl, and I promise, in fact all of the guys in my squad, in all of the squads know how special she is, they told me if they’ll take care of her.”

“Except for the guys working under Crane,” Peeta muttered. He closed his eyes. He wanted to punch the wall, wanted to scream.

“Just hang in there, Katniss is strong, she’s tough. For any girl of twelve to brave the forest and hunt animals with the threat of predatory beasts to put food on the table, that takes bigger balls than I have.”

“Thanks Rye,” Peeta whispered.

“I’ve got to go, but maybe the next time tell Graham that what he did for Prim was great.”

“I will.”

The communication went off. Peeta sighed and leaned back. He looked up at the darkened sky just beyond his bedroom window. “Hang in there Katniss. Please hang in there,” he whispered brokenly.

A lot of things could happen in six months. Katniss could be beaten mercilessly. She could be raped by one of the prisoners or even by a sadistic guard. She could catch a disease and die. The fear he’d been fighting threaded through him and for the first time in all of his life he was unsure of the future. Sleep was not an option for him tonight and he couldn’t celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow. Not with the love of his life in some hellhole beneath the earth.

Getting up, he began to clean and sometime around midnight he decided to make bread for the children tomorrow; that would keep his mind occupied. The next six months were going to be the hardest of his life.

[cestlestial-beings]

like that

Summary: Three times Sam and Dean have sex: 1. Dean visits Sam at Stanford and they find out they feel the same way about each other; 2. Sam confesses to Dean that he's a man, and Dean does his best to ease Sam's worries; 3. Years into Sam's transition, Dean enjoys Sam's masculine traits.

Fandom: Supernatural Characters: FTM!Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester Word Count: 4600 AO3: Link

Notes:

Thanks to @jackklineisperfect for beta reading :) Any errors you find are my own.

Pronouns are based on Dean's perception, not Sam's identity.

Part 1/Stanford Sam looks like this.

More notes on physical transition for transgender men are included in the end notes on AO3.

Full Fic:

The First Time with Her

Dean fell in love with Sam when she was sixteen. One day, it just clicked. She was beautiful.

He would never act on it. She was four years younger than him, and they were siblings.

But every time he hooked up with someone else, he thought about her.

* * *

Dean visits Sam a couple of days before her birthday, two years into her time at Stanford.

He has no idea how she’s going to take it—they’d had enough angry arguments over the phone during Sam’s first six months that they haven’t spoken to each other in more than a year, despite how much Dean has wanted to—but here he is, in front of Sam’s apartment building, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.

Finally the front door to the building opens, and Dean sees her.

His breath catches. She’s embraced her feminine side since she’s come to Stanford. She’s wearing a fitted t-shirt and shorts that show off her long legs instead of the too-loose hoodie and jeans of her high school days; she has a wavy, shoulder-length hairstyle and bangs instead of a choppy, done-at-home haircut; and she has just a hint of makeup on—light eyeliner and lipgloss. She looks nothing like the frumpy, tomboyish girl she’d been when Dean saw her last.

“You’ve been standing out here for two hours. Are you just gonna stand there looking like a stalker, or are you coming to come in?”

He ducks his head and jogs up the steps to the door. Right back into her sass, before even a hello.

“You look so grown up, Sammy,” he says, as she walks him up the stairs to her apartment.

Sam smiles shyly. “My friends are really insistent on helping me with my style.”

No kidding. Dean’s never seen her look so much like a girl.

She leaves the stairwell at the third floor and stops at a door about halfway down the hall, then turns to him.

“Dean, why are you here?” she finally asks.

He gives her a wavering smile. “I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, Sammy.” He knows that doesn’t answer her question, so he sighs and adds, “I know I gave you a lot of crap for leaving me and Dad behind, but…” He shrugs. “I miss you. I’ll accept your decision if it means you’ll be in my life.”

“Awwww. That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” he says, rolling his eyes. All grown up and yet still the annoying little sibling.

And then she smiles, and it lights up her whole face. His heart melts, and he hates himself for it.

She pulls him into a hug. “I really missed you too, Dean.”

* * *

Sam introduces Dean to her roommates as “an old friend” which strikes Dean as strange, but he rolls with it. She grabs her stuff and they go out for burgers, talking about everything except what Sam left behind. The conversation is so natural, it’s almost as if the two-year gap since they last saw each other hadn’t happened at all.

Dean gives her a gift (a small stack of classic movies he knows she hasn’t seen but should) and buys her a milkshake. He sticks a candle he’d brought with him into the top of the milkshake and lights it, and Sam laughs when an employee comes over to tell them to put it out because it’s a fire hazard. As it gets dark, Sam takes Dean on a walk around the Stanford campus, pointing out certain landmarks as they go.

It’s almost ten at night when they get back to Sam’s apartment building. They stop in front of the building, and it feels like the end of a date, neither of them sure where to go from here. Something shifted in their relationship since they’d seen each other last; there was a new, unexplored dimension to it that hung heavy in the air between them.

“Where are you staying?” Sam asks him.

Dean points to the Impala, parked across the street. “That’s my room for the night.”

Sam rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she says, already headed inside.

“Won’t your roommates mind?”

“No,” she says. “They have boys over often enough, I don’t think they’ll care.” Dean feels his cheeks start to burn, and he can see Sam start to blush at the careless comparison as well. “You know what I mean!” she says, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

Sam lays a futon out on the floor for him and gives him a stack of sheets before leaving to go through her bedtime routine. He sets up, feeling nostalgic for when they shared rooms as kids. You have to sleep on the floor because you’re younger, Dean would say after setting up the bedding on the ground, and Sam would throw a fit but finally give in, and ultimately Dean would give her the bed because he felt guilty.

Dean looks around the room, running his fingers along the back of the spines of textbooks and picking up picture frames with photos of Sam and people Dean doesn’t know.

Sam finally comes back into the room, dressed in plaid pajama pants and a loose AC/DC t-shirt. She’s so gorgeous that Dean loses his breath for a moment.

“Hey,” she says, shutting the door behind her, and it’s a little awkward now, since they’re alone, awkward like it hasn’t been all night. She bites her lip and pauses like she’s going to say something. It takes her a moment but she finally says, “There’s something I feel like I should tell you.”

“Hm.” He’s completely still, waiting for what she’s going to say.

She takes a deep breath. “Part of the reason I left was to get away from you.”

It feels like a punch in the gut, and he turns away.

“No, Dean, I…” She runs a hand through her hair. “I wanted you in a way that I wasn’t supposed to, so I ran. I ran because I was guilty, and scared. I just thought you should know, before you leave again. So you can know not to come back.”

Dean’s breath stops completely as he takes in her words.

She forces a laugh. “God, it was a mistake inviting you up here tonight when—”

He cuts her off with a kiss. She’s surprised but leans into it almost immediately, the tension melting out of her body. He thought this would feel worse. He thought this would feel gross, and predatory, and wrong. But he can tell how badly she wants him, so it just feels good.

He pulls back, just a little. “I want you too,” he says. “In a way that I’m not supposed to.”

She lets out a short, giddy laugh, and pulls him back in for a kiss.

He sits down on the bed and pulls her onto his lap, their mouths never leaving each other’s. His hand slips up under her shirt to cup her breast, and he’s surprised to note she’s still wearing a snug-fitting sports bra, even in her nightwear. She leans away from him and pushes his hand down.

“You don’t want to…?” he starts to say.

“No, I do. You can touch me anywhere but there.”

He doesn’t really understand but he doesn’t mind because there’s so much more of Sam to explore. He lets his hands roam down her back, across her belly, around the firm curve of her ass. He pulls her shirt off of her and helps her slide out of her pants and she’s here, bare in front of him in just her underwear and so, so beautiful.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, and she nods, hungry. “Okay.”

He flips her over onto her back and takes a moment to pull off his own clothes. He feels self-conscious in a way he’s never been with other girls as he undresses in front of her. When his clothes are off, he crawls over to look down at her. Her eyes are sparkling and happy, the corner of her mouth just barely pulled up in a smile.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, and now she does smile, fully.

He presses kisses down along her body, along her collarbone and arms and stomach—careful to skip over her still-covered chest, like she asked—and he pulls down her panties, down and off (lacy pink doesn’t seem like Sam’s style, but the thought only registers in his head for a moment).

He kisses her lower stomach, and he feels her gasp lightly, goosebumps rising on her skin. He pushes her legs apart for access and slides his tongue along her folds and up to her clit. She’s wet already.

“Dean,” she moans, and the sound runs straight through him to his rapidly hardening dick. She buries a hand in his hair while his tongue swirls around her clit. She tugs his hair a little bit. “Dean, I want you inside me.”

He slides back up and kisses the corner of her mouth. “Sure, baby.”

“Condoms in the second drawer,” she says, pointing to the nightstand.

He opens the drawer and rifles through it. There’s a couple of dildos, a vibrator, several sizes of butt plugs. “Sammy, you naughty girl. Playing with yourself, huh?”

Her face is in the shadow of his body, but he can still see her blush. She slaps his arm. “Just get the condom, asshole.”

He obeys. Fishes one out, tears open the packaging, slides it on. When he looks back at her, her lips are parted just slightly, her eyes hooded with desire. Fuck, she’s beautiful. She’s everything he’s ever wanted.

He lines himself up with her hole and she uses her hand to help guide him in. He pushes in and she gasps, pressing her head back into the pillow and squeezing her eyes shut. He slides in slow, letting her adjust to his presence inside her. She’s tight and warm and it feels so good it’s almost overwhelming.

Dean stops when he’s all the way in.

She opens her eyes and meets his, bringing up her hand to rest on the side of his face. “This is pretty fucked up, huh?”

Yeah, he wants to say. There’s a part of him insistently reminding him that it’s not too late to stop, to put things back to the way they were. To make their relationship be that of siblings, not whatever the fuck this is.

But he wants this and Sam wants this and he doesn’t want her to feel like a freak for her desires, so he says, “Less fucked up than everything else about our lives,” and she laughs softly before pulling him down for another kiss.

Sam keeps him close as he rocks into her, slow and sensual, and sometimes when he hits just the right spot, she’ll moan against his lips. Their bodies move together with a familiarity that only comes from having known each other their entire lives, though they’ve never known each other like this.

She comes with a moan, and the feeling of Sam clenching around him pushes him over the edge a few seconds later.

“Fuck, Sam,” he says, the pleasure washing over him in waves.

“Dean,” she says, and, breathing hard, she takes his face in both of her hands, watching the pleasure on his face with a satisfied smile.

He pulls out and flops down next to her, lying on his side so he can watch her catch her breath.

She brushes a lock of sweaty hair out of her face and rolls to face him as well. She grins. “God, you’re hot.”

“I know,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. He leans in close and kisses her forehead, the way he’s done since she was a little kid. He thought it would feel weird, a gesture of an older sibling right after sex, but it just feels natural. Like the physical intimacy they’d just shared was simply an extension of the emotional intimacy they’ve had their entire lives.

“Hey,” she says, running her fingers along Dean’s cheek. “I don’t have class tomorrow morning.”

“So...?”

“So you can keep me up tonight,” she says, and she winks at him, an awkward wink closer to a blink, and he laughs at her attempt to be sexy. Her cheeks turn red, but she scowls at him. So cute.

“Okay, I’ll keep you up tonight,” he says, giving her a quick kiss.

And he does, but they spend more time talking than fucking, and he’s so content. He could stay here forever.

* * *

Dean doesn’t call for a year, even though he knows he should. But what is he supposed to say, after a night like that with his own sister?

Finally he works up the nerve.

It’s a short conversation.

Sam is in a committed relationship now. She’s trying harder than ever to distance herself from her past, and Dean doesn’t fit into her new life.

It shouldn’t hurt like it does. Dean is the one who’d put space between them, and she was going to move on eventually. But he still feels hollow, and he doesn’t call her again.

The First Time with Him

Sam is having a breakdown in the motel bathroom and Dean doesn’t know what to do. Dean thinks she was set off by meeting Dean’s old flame Cassie, and Dean doesn’t know how many more times he can assure Sam that Cassie isn’t the one he’s in love with anymore, that Sam is the only person he has eyes for.

“That’s not it,” Sam said, but wouldn’t elaborate any more than that.

“Come on, Sam, just talk to me,” he says, resting his head against the bathroom door. “Please.”

“Give me some space, okay?” she says again.

He sighs, but there’s not much he can do, so he goes out and gets a couple of burgers and comes back. When he enters the motel room, Sam is sitting on the bed in a huge, oversize hoodie and a loose pair of Dean’s jeans, staring at the wall. It’s almost impossible to make out any of her form beneath the clothes. She’s been dressing in super loose, baggy clothes like that more often than not lately, and Dean doesn’t understand.

“Food,” he says.

Sam begrudgingly gets up and sits down at the motel room’s table, helping herself to one of the burgers. She munches on it silently, her red, puffy eyes carefully avoiding Dean’s.

She’d been so much more masculine by the time Dean had broken into her apartment to tell her Dad was missing. Away from her feminine attire and presentation she’d had the previous time they’d met, and back to a short, boyish haircut and masculine outfits that hid her curves. Anyone would see her as a guy at first glance, and probably at second glance too. I just feel more comfortable like this, she’d said, and then it turned out her committed relationship was with a woman. Dean was shocked. Had Sam really been a butch lesbian this whole time? Was what happened between them two years before just a dream?

It didn’t make him any less drawn to her, though. She was still Sam, with her piercing green eyes and sharp intelligence and a level of empathy and kindness that seemed miraculous, given the background she came from. And she was still drawn to him too—their relationship became physical a few weeks into working with each other again.

The closer physical intimacy meant that in the past couple of weeks, Dean has been noticing that some things are seriously off. Sam wears a tight sports bra every time they fuck and refuses to take it off. She barely speaks to him when she’s on her period. Sometimes during what he considers pretty vanilla dirty talk, she shuts off for the night. He chalks it up to hormones, but he knows it’s something more, especially now that she’d had a full breakdown over whatever it is.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Dean asks, not yet starting in on his burger. He tries to keep his voice gentle and even, to coax her into talking about what’s been bothering her so much.

She sets down her food and pushes it away. She absently taps the table with her finger like she’s trying to decide whether to share what she’s thinking or not. She’s still avoiding looking at Dean, and it’s starting to piss him off that she’s barely acknowledging him.

“Sam, come on,” he says, and his voice comes out harsher than he intends. But he’s tired of her brushing it off and pushing him away when it’s not something that either of them can just ignore. “You can’t just expect me to walk on eggshells around you, hoping that I won’t set you off about something I don’t even understand. Why the hell are you upset?”

Sam shakes her head.

“Come on, man, give me something,” Dean pleads.

Sam swallows. “I’m not who I am, Dean.”

Dean furrows his brow. Sam couldn’t be any more unclear if she tried. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m…” She gestures down at herself. “This isn’t me. It’s not me. I’m not supposed to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“A girl.”

“I don’t get it.”

She takes a long, shaky breath. “I want—I need—to be a man.”

Dean supposes he should be more shocked by her declaration, but Dean has always seen her more as Sam than as a girl. And finding out she feels like a guy… Things just start to click.

All the times Sam had called herself Dean’s brother as a little kid, despite John and Dean’s frequent corrections. Excited chatter about how much she related to the boys in her most recent book. Complaining about not playing soccer at the same time she quit the girls’ soccer team. The complete withdrawal into herself as soon as she hit puberty.

Dean had always figured it was identity confusion because Sam had never had a female role model growing up, but that wasn’t what it was, not really.

And more recently—leaning into anything masculine while distancing herself from femininity. He remembered when a store clerk had called her “sir” the other day, and her face had brightened. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time—it seemed a lot of people mistook Sam as a guy—but it makes sense now why it would make her happy.

“Okay,” he finally says, waiting for her to elaborate.

“‘Okay’?” she asks. “What do you mean, ‘okay’?”

“I guess I don’t understand what this means, exactly.”

“It means…” She sighs, runs a hand through her hair. “I’d be different, Dean. If you were okay with me starting hormones, it would mean I would look different, and sound different, and probably feel and smell different too.”

She laid it all out for him, but he’s still not sure he understands. He has no clue what the changes would look like on Sam specifically. He focuses on the one part of the sentence he did understand. “What do you mean, if I’m okay with it?” he asks. “The Sam I know would never ask permission.”

Sam picks at a fingernail nervously. “I don’t want to lose you,” she says softly.

“You’re not going to lose me, Sam,” Dean tells her. “I’m going to stay with you, I promise.”

“No, Dean, I mean… You’re attracted to women. Just look at Cassie. She was so… And I’m so…” Sam shakes her head as she struggles to find the right words. “I’m going to change and…” Her voice starts to fade as she talks. “You’re not going to want me anymore.”

Dean has no idea what to say. He can’t see any universe where he wouldn’t want Sam. He’s silent for a long moment as he looks at Sam carefully, thinking about what she would look like as a guy. Yes, he loves her body as it is now, the soft curves and smooth skin and feminine moans he pulls from her during sex. So what would it feel like to be with her, if it was different? Stubble and broad shoulders and a dick?

He tilts his head slightly. He’s never sought out guys, never really been interested, but he’d never really been averse to it either. If Sam became a man, Dean’s pretty sure he wouldn’t mind. He would miss some things, but he wouldn’t mind. His attraction to Sam is because she’s Sam, not because she’s a woman.

Sam shifts uncomfortably, his eyes still avoiding Dean’s.

“Hey,” Dean says, and his hand snakes across the table to take Sam’s. “I’m gonna love you no matter what, okay?”

“Yeah, but not like—”

“Yes, like that,” Dean says. “I loved you the way you were when I came to see you in college. I love you the way you are now. I’ll love you no matter what changes you or your body go through, okay?”

Sam’s eyes well up with tears. “Really?” he says softly.

Dean squeezes Sam’s hand and gives him a reassuring smile. “Yeah.”

Sam sniffs. “God, I tell you I feel like a guy and then start crying like a girl.”

Dean stands up and pulls Sam up to his feet too.

“Hey,” he says, taking Sam’s face in his hands and wiping away Sam’s tears with his thumbs. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Dean pulls him into a hug and holds him close while he cries himself out.

Normally they’d look for their next job at the end of a day like today, but they take the night off and talk about where Sam is going to go next. How he’ll get hormones, if he’s going to get surgery, how fast the changes will happen.

Sam gradually starts to open up about it and get more and more excited, and Dean can’t help the warm feeling deep in his core. When Sam is happy, Dean is happy too.

* * *

Dean falls asleep in Sam’s arms that night and only wakes up when the light streaming through the crack in the curtains hits his eyes.

He groans and rolls over so he’s facing Sam. He nudges Sam awake.

“Hey, handsome,” Dean says, and Sam blinks his eyes open sleepily. Sam smiles when he meets Dean’s eyes.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Dean brushes a messy lock of hair away from Sam’s face. It falls right back into place. “Since you’re a guy now, would it be gay if we fucked?” he asks. He’s excited to try, now that he knows the feminine words to avoid and the masculine words to try out. Now that he knows what will turn Sam off and what might turn him on.

Sam rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, does that bother you?”

“Can’t knock it ’til I’ve tried it,” Dean says. “I’ve always wondered what it’s like to suck a dick.”

Sam raises his eyebrows.

Dean starts to scoot down the bed and looks up at Sam through his eyelashes. “You mind if I give it a try, stud-muffin?”

Sam bites his lip. “Hey, I’d like if you never called me that again, ever.”

“Daddy?”

“Gross, that’s so much worse.”

“Lover boy.”

“Dean.”

“Little brother?”

Sam doesn’t object to that one, so Dean takes it as a green flag. Not a traditional sexual term, but he thinks it’s kind of hot.

While Dean goes down on Sam and listens to Sam’s moans, he realizes this feels right. Sam, a guy. It’s going to take some getting used to, but it fits. Things have changed, but they’re the same; it’s a new chapter, but still the same book.

The Hundredth Time with Him

It’s a few years later, sometime between near-world-ending events, that Dean wakes up in a motel bed with his arm draped over Sam. Dean still likes being the big spoon, no matter that Sam is bigger than Dean now. When Sam started testosterone, he bulked up big time. He’s huge and all muscle, but that doesn’t stop him from snuggling up against Dean.

Dean yawns and strokes his fingers lazily through Sam’s chest hair and Sam hums sleepily. He runs his hand down Sam’s side. Gone are the feminine curves Dean loved about Sam before, smoothed out and adjusted by hormones, but Dean loves the new shape just as much. And ever since the surgery they’d only had to commit light fraud to afford, Dean’s pleased that he can touch Sam’s chest wherever he wants.

Sam rolls over and nuzzles his nose against Dean’s. Dean strokes a thumb along Sam’s jaw, the stubble prickly under the pad of his finger. Dean hadn’t expected so much facial hair growth, but he doesn’t mind it. The scent of Sam’s aftershave turns Dean on just as much as the familiar smell of her vanilla shampoo used to.

“Hey,” Dean says, pressing a light kiss to Sam’s lips. “We should get up.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam mumbles, eyes still closed. He’d been up far past Dean, finishing up on a lead for some research, so Dean doesn’t blame him for wanting to stay in bed.

“Come on. We’ve got work to do. I’ll suck your dick if you come take a shower.”

That seems to do it. Sam groans and rolls out of bed. “Fine.”

Sam is too sleepy to do much himself, but Dean takes his time lathering Sam up with soap, scrubbing him all over his body with a washcloth. Sam is so comfortable in his body now, too, in a way that he never was before. It’s a relief to be able to touch Sam anywhere without Sam turning off or pushing him away.

Dean massages shampoo into Sam’s scalp and grins at the moan it elicits from Sam.

He shuffles around so he’s in front of Sam and gets on his knees, brushing his soaked hair from his eyes. Sam looks down at him through hooded eyes and buries a hand in Dean’s hair. Dean smiles and takes Sam’s dick between his lips, lapping at the tip and water running over it. Sam’s cock is still small, but it’s grown since Sam started hormones, almost an inch and a half long now, sometimes a little more when Sam is hard.

Dean slides two fingers into Sam. He knows Sam’s body almost better than his own, so when he curls his fingers, he finds Sam’s g-spot instantly. “Mm, fuck, Dean,” Sam says, pushing his hips towards Dean.

Dean takes his time, sucking on Sam’s cock and stroking his fingers in Sam, enjoying Sam’s panting and gasps until Sam comes with a moan. Dean feels himself start to get hard as Sam’s pussy clenches around his fingers. Dean runs his tongue along Sam’s cock one more time and then stands up. He meets Sam’s lips with his own. “Worth getting up for?” he murmurs.

“It was… adequate,” Sam says, and Dean punches his shoulder while Sam laughs.

“Last time I ever do anything nice for you,” Dean grumbles.

“Aw, come on,” Sam says, and he tugs Dean in, pressing their bodies close together. Dean leans his forehead against Sam’s and lets out a contented sigh. It crosses Dean’s mind, briefly, how far they’ve come. How far Sam has come.

How everything about Sam is different, except that he’s Sam.

And Sam is all Dean wants.

[sanstropfremir]

would love to hear ur thoughts re. these street woman fighter's performances and who you would personally vote as the "better dance crew" in how they interpreted each other choreos and the song.

this was for their first elimination round (ep4) and it was interesting to hear from the judges + why they gave the points they did. (i'm not entirely sure if you're watching the show's episodes. they are roughly 2 hours long. so if you would like more context, pls let me know! i wrote brief comments underneath each one as well as the winners [spoilers ahead!]. assuming you are not: for this mission, each crew is paired with another crew and they have to choreograph one of the soloist songs. songs were "split" into two parts: part one [would be one song] and part two [another song]; one crew would choreograph one part and follow the other's crew choreograph for the other part.)

1. boa - eat you up (want choreo) + better (ygx choreo). dance crews: ygx vs want

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCfK_qWAhM0&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: ygx. boa gave 151 pts to ygx and 49 pts to want (the biggest gap in points between crews), sharing that although want choreographed eat you up, ygx was more cohesive (pointing to how want wore hats and it was messy). additionally, ygx had better stage presence and was able to capture the camera more. also, because ygx is the only crew to have a b-girl and use it in their routine, the judges applauded want for doing the best they can.

2. cl - doctor pepper (wayb) + hello bitches (prowdmon). dance crews: prowdmon vs wayb

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEEpZ9SrvaE&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: prowdmon. judges shared that doctor pepper's routine is a trademark of wayb and that they should have been the standout. however, they felt like prowdmon did it better.

3. hyuna - crazy (4minute) (coca n butter) + i'm not cool (hook) + lip and hip (hook). dance crews: hook vs coca n butter

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1ikpPKEA30&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: hook. the two dance crews are VERY different in terms of style. coca n butter is described to be more hip-hop while hook is definitely more reflective of the current/newer trends. (when hook was first introduced in the show, they were known as the crew who was famous only for tiktok dances.) the judges shared that hook was more fun and interesting, given their stylistic choice of wearing the pink wigs. whereas it seemed for coca n butter, they felt like something was lacking (they showed something but it didn't feel they did.)

4. jessi - what type of xx (lachica) + nununa (holybang) + gucci (holybang). dance crews: holybang vs lachica

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtZzI11oyqc&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: lachica. (this was the only battle where both crews came in v close pts. whereas for the other crews, there were huge point-gaps.) judges had a hard time choosing, sharing that for lachica they were more detail-oriented while holybang had better teamwork.

-

imo, i agree with the judges' choices. though i would have to say i think wayb did their routine (doctor pepper) better than prowdmon. they stood out to me then, but when it came to the second part (hello bitches), prowdmon was better. i loved lachica's performance - it was v clean + reminded me of something a kpop group would do (which like, the crew largely works with kpop acts like chungha, boa's better, etc. so it makes sense).

-

this was LONG. thank u if u do read it and post! i miss the kingdom "era" when u would post weekly reviews. the two are v different but this new mnet competition show is the only one i'm invested in. i'm not sure if it's big internationally? i know it is v popular in korea right now. while i've only seen i-fans talk about the show as it relates to chaeyeon (want) because she's an idol. - swf (streetwomanfighter) anon :]

omg this is so long and well organized, forget me writing reviews anon you should do it!! i'm not currently watching the full episodes but i've been catching the few clips that pop up in my youtube recommended occasionally, so i definitely don't have all the context but i'll take a crack at it!

ok so my assumption/from what i can tell, they have a bit of leeway to alter the competing group's choreo as needed to better suit numbers and formations. i also went and found the individual versions of these because why did they make them so small on the split screen, don't they know i'm old and wear glasses. also: MNET FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY STOP MOVING THE FUCKING CAMERA. WE DO NOT NEED SCROLLING VERTICAL BOOM SHOTS OF THIS. just keep the same lens at eye level it's really not that hard. this is like, one of the worst possible ways to shoot dance it is SO annoying. ok i'm done bitching about that let's go.

1. boa - ygx vs want i agree with the big point gap on this one, and i think want made a couple of choices that were not cohesive enough, and obviously they also got set up to fail by ygx. actually i think both groups made choices that were not particularly good, but ygx had more of the skills to back up what they were doing than want did. breaking is very difficult and requires a lot of upper body strength and a higher centre of gravity, which are two physical traits that are less common in women. personally i wouldn't have tried to break to better because although boa songs do have more of a beat than other idol music, it's still not at all the right type of music for breaking. it's gotta be fast, breakers rely on speed, because it's all about momentum; they're literally throwing themselves around the stage. here's the final from battle pro 2019 for example. the music is basically beats only; heavily lyric based music, like idol music, is bad for battling in general because there isn't a lot of consistency. i have more to say about this but i'm getting off track. basically by choosing to handicap the other team (because they don't have a bgirl at all) they shot their own bgirl in the foot because the song is too slow to properly show off her skills. i applaud want for making bold choices, like the hatwork and attempting the breaking, but ultimately when combined with their styling the performance looks disjointed. also they have some formation cohesion issues that make it look a bit like they'e struggling to keep up, even with their own choreo.

2. cl - prowdmon vs wayb i agree with the judges, i think prowdmon bodied the wayb choreo. i actually thought that was their choreo at first. they have the best presence that i've seen of all the groups and the performative "hard bitch" attitude fit in with their genre setting. wayb had several mistakes and synchronization issues that in my opinion made them look sloppy in comparision to prowdmon, who were sharper and had two more people to put into formations. 3. hyuna - hook vs coca n butter ok personally i don't like either of these choreos, but i'm agreeing with the judges here, i think hook's was the mildly more engaging. i can tell that they're very young and do mostly short form tiktok content because i see a lot of eye catching moves, but i don't see a lot of strong connective tissue between those moves. they have good ideas but they also really struggle with putting people into formation and balancing it out well. it doesn't help that they're a seven member crew going up against a four member one, so they have three extra people to figure out what to do with. there's a lot of empty space where there are members waiting in position for a group formation. it also doesn't help at all that they (mnet) appear to just be rawdogging the songs together without any kind of mixing, which is a huge detriment to groups that have to choreograph for two in their section. i'm not cool and lip and hip have two totally different feels and kudos to hook for at least trying to get them to at least visually be cohesive when mnet is go girl giving us nothing sonically. coca n butter has much more of an old school hip hop style, so putting these two up against each other was (probably a random lot draw) an interesting choice. personally i would have been more interested to see hook against want with the boa tracks and ygx against coca n butter with the hyuna tracks. however, i think the reason why coca n butter's stage felt like it was lacking is because they tried to emulate hyuna, without having the stage presence or the weirdness of hyuna. it feels like they're trying too hard and there isn't really any personal character in the piece, versus with hook, who embodied hyuna's weirdness a little more authentically and took a completely different direction. 4. jessi - lachica vs holybang lachica took this one easily, although their formations were a bit wonky for nununana, they covered it fairly well and i think they managed the best transition between songs (between nununana and gucci). they were sharper with good stage pictures and had a good gimmick with the double fringe on the gloves and hats. holy bang had some issues fitting their extra person into the what type of x choreo, but they did well with their own choreo. however, like with coca n butter and hook, because lachica took a new visual spin, this felt too derivative of jessi, so it wasn't that interesting for me to watch. i do think they are one of the groups on the stronger end of skills and presence. --- as far as visually what performances i liked the best, since would this even be a writeup by me if i didn't talk about design, here's a quick breakdown:

prowdmon - got some rudimentary setpieces, got a theme, got some fun variations on a uniform look; excellent for what i assume was limited budget capacity and also it's a dance crew show.

lachica - great continuity of effect in costuming with the fringe, and using the gloves as a mouth/lip effect was one of the most interesting choices of these routines.

hook - the pink wigs and the black latex on the checkered floor was a nice gimmick that was a bit of a nod to hyuna's weird without being too derivative. i'm not expecting a whole lot because these are dance crews but i think this was a decent amount of styling effort.

want - they made a bold choice with the hats and even though it didn't quite pay off for them i still respect it.

coca n butter/ygx/holybang/wayb - ygx and wayb did basic hip hop type styling and while it's absolutely fine, it's just boring. holybang went for a directly inspired jessi look, and although yes bodysuits, overall it wasn't that interesting either. coca n butter get props for doing a costume change and actually incorporating that into the choreo but it feels too much like it's trying to be hyuna weird with the caution tape strapped over their tits and asses.

---

as a final note/question to you, my lovely invested swf anon, what's the format of the show? are there stages like this every episode to review? if these were from the fourth one only, is there anything worth me reviewing in the first three? i'm not particularly interested in the aggressive competitive nature of the show and editing so i don't particularly want to watch the full two hour episodes, but if you think it's worthwhile for me to review stuff then i will. otherwise if there's a set structure (like with kingdom) i can seek out the stages specifically and review them if i know what i'm looking for.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded: Chapter Six; Spring Watch.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie:

A hard man is good to find. [Mae West]

--

Jamie woke with a start, the alarm blaring in the background.

The dream had been intense and had left him panting, a sheen of sweat on his skin as he pushed the duvet aside and stood. As always it was light outside, the sunrise half blinding him as the blasts of orange and red permeated the old curtains. Washing the night from his skin, he plunged himself beneath the pounding rivulets of water coming from his power shower, his body temperature receding slightly as the morning wore on.

Fortunately Claire wouldn’t be awake yet and he could slip from the house almost unnoticed. He needed to get a good day of work done, and to forget the memory of his dream before he faced her again. The mere thought brought colour to his cheeks, the heat in his belly reminding him of how incredibly realistic it had been.

Delicate pink skin appeared without his permission and once more he could feel the remnants of it haunting him as he slid his wellies on and closed the door softly behind him. Working in a daze, he prepared his cows for milking, the heat of the morning fading slightly as the clouds rolled in. The animals barely paid him any mind, going about their own business as he fed, watered and tended to them.

She hadn’t snuck into his bed, as she had in his dreams, but she had infiltrated his thoughts and no matter how hard he tried, sporadic jolts of her came unbidden throughout the day as he worked.

She’s married, he told himself, although the argument felt pretty weak in his own mind. In the abstract she was, he could tell that she still thought herself that way despite starting her new life. Without knowing it, she often rubbed her wedding ring finger - though the ring had long since been removed. It was obvious she was struggling with the transition and who could blame her, it had only been a couple of weeks. She was still hesitating on her name whenever he spoke it out loud to her, the subtle twitch betraying her.

But she was beginning to thaw, the shocked reaction he received when he spoke to her growing less and less as time went on (which, secretly, made him smile).

The baby lambs were out in force as he pulled the sandwich from his rucksack - one Claire had made him the night before. He smiled to himself as he perched on the fence, watching his first time mums as they paraded their babies around the perimeter of the field. Food somehow tasted better when someone else had made it for him, the slight differences in style allowing him a great enough change in routine to be noticeable.

She, it seemed, had a penchant for adding multiple salad products on her ham sandwich. Whereas Jamie was always in a rush at 4am, trying to collect his thermos as well as various food items to keep him going for the day, usually he would just throw slices of meat on top of bread without much thought. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and *butter*, however, made all the difference. He even had potato salad on the side and a bag of what looked like homemade crisps.

Before Claire had arrived, John had given Jamie a very brief update as to her situation. Knowing a limited amount, he gauged that the difficulties she’d encountered recently hadn’t really set in yet and, instead, she was going through some sort of nesting, using her time at Lallybroch to cook and clean, ensuring that her mind is actively kept away from thinking about much at all.

His mind needed something similar as the image of her pottering about in his kitchen whilst he was away brought to the fore those visions that had him startled awake this morning before his alarm had even a chance to ring and he shook the picture of her bare skin from his thoughts, turning back to his task list.

The orphaned lambs were thriving now. Most had been ‘adopted’ by other nursing mothers but he still had two rogue ewes who were waiting for collection - Rupert, his nearest (mostly by proximity but also by friendship) neighbour had offered to take them for him but had yet been unable to drive over to collect them. In lieu of this, Jamie had been spending time hand feeding them every day though he worried each time he left them that he might return to something unmentionable.

Luckily, they’d survived another night in the small outhouse and he crawled in between them, the straw poking and prodding him as he settled with the warm milk bottle. The first, the largest of the two, squirmed in excitement, rushing to plonk herself by his side and suckle noisily at the teet.

“Easy now, lass, there’s enough for the both of you.” He soothed, watching as she butted the bottle, falling to her knees as she fed. Sheep were notoriously terrible pets, losing their fear of humans when in contact for too long and he had worried this close contact wouldn’t be good for the ewes, but watching the smaller of the pair sit helplessly in the corner made him think of Claire.

An idea came to him all of a sudden as he moved towards the lone female. He could, if he wanted, take the lamb home that evening and leave her in Claire’s care. Not only would it give the poor wee thing a greater chance, it might give her something else to turn her attention to in the day. There was a large chance he’d lose this one if he didn’t do something drastic.

-- --- --

An odd feeling settled in her stomach from the moment she woke up. Though she couldn’t put her finger on what the issue was, she felt a strange atmosphere hovering around her. Her skin prickled as she got out of the shower and she immediately felt as though there was something she should be remembering but couldn’t quite hold onto the memory.

She’d heard Jamie leave this morning, which was odd in itself. Usually she was fast asleep at dawn, not waking until much later when the house was quiet and she was alone. But she’d been woken this morning by some forgotten thought or dream that she couldn’t picture from the second she’d opened her eyes.

After barely speaking for two weeks, the weekend had been a welcome change.

Conversation had not been forced or odd, Jamie had allowed her time for quiet reflection and had seemed really quite pleased with her suggestions for the upcycling of his old furniture.

She felt useful, finally. A feeling she hadn’t had in some time.

Putting herself to work, she opted for cleaning downstairs for the best part of the morning. There was still a lot of dust residue from the sanding epic they’d had on Saturday, even spending most of Sunday dusting and hoovering hadn’t removed it all, so she pulled the dyson from under the stairs and tried to be as thorough as she could be.

Like cooking, she had never considered herself to be fluent in the art of housewifery. Before...when she had been able, her time had been dedicated to studying. There had been a cleaner for such tasks and, even afterwards, she hadn’t *needed* to be useful in that way. Here, though, there was nobody else to clean, do the dishes or cook and she found that losing herself to each task kept her mind (and body) active.

Sitting with the remnants of her crisps, she decided that was the dish she’d been most proud of since her introduction to the kitchen. She found herself thinking of Jamie and hoped that he was enjoying them too.

Their food deliveries now consisted of a greater variety of produce and she’d been able to add some colour to his lunch - which she had been making every evening and putting into the fridge for him to take when he left in the mornings.

She felt pleased as well as shocked at how easily she had moulded to fit her new life here.

Happy with her efforts, she turned her attention to the bookshelves in the back living room. There were titles dating back hundreds of years. Thick leather covers with yellowed pages sat proudly amongst the newer softback novels. She could tell which books had been read just by glancing at the spines, though there had been fingerprints in the thin layer of dust that had been there only hours before.

They were categorised, it seemed, by the surname of the author, carefully and methodically organised so that each time a new title had been purchased, it had been added in the right spot though there wasn’t room for many more.

His taste was eclectic, from non-fiction books on farming, agriculture, holistic medicines and horticulture to the classics (neatly bound with multiple editions ordered together, oldest first) including Jane Austin, Victor Hugo, Descartes, Melville and Hemingway. Jumbled in were some biographies but she’d assumed those belonged to either his parents or sister as none had been touched for some time.

Her fingers ran over the spines, stopping to hover over the drawing and painting books she’d first read when learning to doodle on the post-it notes in the first few weeks. She didn’t stop until she reached a relatively new title that she hadn’t noticed before. There was ruffling on the edge, a clear sign of frequent use, and some damage to the corners. Pulling it from the shelves, she settled into the comfy armchair, her cup of tea now cool enough to drink, and began to read.

It was modern, eloquently written with intricate plot weaving from the moment she turned the first page. The front cover clearly denoted that of a romance but there was intrigue and art as well as carefully homegrown characters. Before she’d had time to digest the prose, the front door opened and closed and she blinked. The clock on the desk ticked loudly and she noticed that hours had passed without her knowing.

Placing the book back on the shelf, she decided to leave it where it was for the time being and come back for it before bed. Though the visuals she’d imagined for herself stayed with her as she stretched and went in search of Jamie.

A loud noise caught her attention and she burst out laughing as she walked into the kitchen to find him wrestling with a small lamb.

“A new friend?” She said, her shock fading quickly.

“Ah; lass, I need ye!” His words were breathless, his cheeks a vibrant pink from the exertion of keeping the lamb from darting off and wrecking the joint. “I have a challenge for you, if you’re up for it!?”

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Heartbreaker- Part 2

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Female character/ reader (She)

Word Count: 5573

Warnings: Sexual content, language and angst.

Beautiful mood board by the amazing @peterquillzsblog Thank you again 💙

So clearly, I have no self control. I got a little carried away. This was only meant to be a one-shot and here I am posting a second part 😅 @youbloodymadgenius, I hope you don’t mind 💙 Thank you for all the wonderful feedback from the first part, it inspired me to write this second part. 

Part 1

...

“Here we have the famous Oseberg Ship. It was discovered by a farmer in Vestfold over a hundred years ago in 1904,” Her heels click against the hardwood floor, coming to an abrupt halt right by the ancient Viking ship, “It is known as the most beautiful Viking tomb to be discovered.” She watches the tourists surround the vessel, all sporting wide eyes as they take in the sight of the giant ship.

She goes on to explain the history of the ship, the noblewomen that were buried within and the various items unearthed in the vessel. She never grew tired of watching tourist faces twist in fascination as she educates them on the Viking Age and of the narrative that most didn’t know about besides knowing that the Norse were fearsome warriors. They were much more complex than that. The last half hour was spent exploring the rest of the exhibition and alerting the small crowd of the donations that would kindly be accepted for the preservation of the vessel.

Leading the small group back towards the entrance of the museum, she waves them off, thanking them for their time and wishing them a good day. That was only her first tour of the day. 2 more to go. Smoothing down her nicely fitted black pencil skirt, she goes behind the ticket counter, greeting the 2 cashiers, Anders and Christina, before checking the roster posted by the register for the next tour.

“I’d like to purchase a ticket for the tour at 2.” Immediately her head snaps up to look towards the familiar voice, her jaw clenching as soon as she sees those familiar blue eyes. Fuck. Her hand grips Christina’s shoulder tightly, causing the cashier to look up at her before she could hand him his ticket and change.

“What?” Christina questions, shifting away from her touch before smiling prettily at Ivar, “Enjoy the tour, sir.”

“Thank you.” He smiles back charmingly, the same kind of smile that had her hooked at that stupid party. His eyes shift to hers immediately, cocking his head as he purses his lips, trying to elicit a reaction from her. The reaction would have been to slap him, but she’d rather keep her job. Adjusting the collar of her white pinstriped button down, she turns away, muttering something to the cashiers before going straight toward the museum cafe. She ignores Ivar completely, her nude heels clicking desperately against the floor as she tries to get away from him as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t be able to catch up with her with his crutch. He must have been in pain that day to be going out with it. And who cares? Fuck him.

She gets herself a bottle of water, tapping her foot impatiently as the cashier takes his sweet ass time getting her change. She should have given him her card. Before she could slink away, Ivar gets a firm grip on her wrist, his large hand pushing her bracelets up against her skin uncomfortably.

“Wait,” He says smoothly, turning her gently to face him. She bites her lip, finally bringing her eyes to meet his. She couldn’t read him at that moment, but really, could she ever? Ivar was like a fucking android when he wanted to be. “You blocked me. I’ve been trying to reach you for days now.” She scoffs, removing herself from his grip and folding her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been unavailable.” She says with a shrug, giving him the best glare she could muster. It had been a little over a week since the incident and she had done well to stay out of his way, not that it was difficult to do so in the first place. They lived about 15 minutes away from each other, but it was still far enough that she wouldn’t really run into him, and Ivar drove everywhere which was the upside of her walking and taking public transit. Thankfully, they worked completely different jobs. What a nightmare that would have been if they didn’t. Of course, he knew where she worked. The museum wasn’t far from his office and he sometimes picked her up after work when he had the chance. She supposed that was the downside.

Ivar gives her a once over, admiring how her pencil skirt hugged her gentle curves and how her legs seemed endless in those pricey heels. He remembered how happy she had been when she bought them for herself. He insisted on purchasing them for her, what was a measly 2000 krones? That wasn’t easy on the salary of a museum tour guide, but she refused of course, and he kinda liked her all the more for it. But that was in the past.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” He corrects, leaning heavily on his crutch, masking his discomfort as well as he could, but he couldn’t fool her. He licks his lips, raising a brow as if insisting she give him a decent answer. Who was he to insist upon anything?

“I have nothing to say to you, Ivar.”

“Come on, really? Nothing? I doubt it,” He snorts with a shake of his head, “Did you at least like the flowers? I stayed up all night finding the right florist that had your favorite flowers and that could deliver them early on such short notice. I had to pull some strings. It wasn't easy, you know.” What, did he want her to fall to her knees and kiss those expensive ass beige Chelsea boots that went well with his navy blue fitted suit? Fuck, she needed to stop.

“Oh yes, I loved them so much that I had to throw them out. They were too pretty. The little card was the best part. Thank you so much for that, asshole.” He trailed after her when she pushed past him, rushing out of the cafe. 5 minutes left till the tour started.

“Wait, slow down,” He calls out to her as he maneuvers himself through the crowd of people, finally catching up to her quick steps, “What did you want me to say? I warned you-”

“Yes, yes, not to fall in love with you, got it,” She dismisses his comment, “And I’m trying to accept that, so why aren’t you?” Ivar clears his throat, shoving a hand into the pocket of his tight dress pants.

“I want you to come back.” She snorts at his audacity, and he frowns, abruptly coming to a stop in front of her. He looks deeply into her eyes, her lashes nice and thick from her coat of mascara. He moves his eyes down to her lips, set in a snarl. That’s not the reaction he wanted, but at least she wore a pretty shade of lipstick.

“You must be out of your mind. Go back where? Your bed?” She whispers harshly over to him, “You’ve made a decision and so did I. Go do what you do best and leave me out of it.”

“But we were doing so great,” He whines, and she found it hard to believe she was talking to a grown ass man, “And I miss you.” He missed her body, not her.

“Fuck you.” She spits, fighting the urge to pour her entire bottle of water over him. Wouldn’t it be a sight to see him looking like a drowned rat.

“That’s what I’d like for you to do, yes. Preferably with you on top.” He smirks, loving how her face burned in both embarrassment and anger. He absolutely loved when she got flustered. It was cute. She quickly looks around hoping no one has witnessed their little exchange.

“This is a professional setting Ivar, so please do me a favor and respect my job,” She looks down at her watch, “I don’t have time for your bullshit. The tour is about to start. I gotta go.” She could already see the small group lining up, waiting to be led into the exhibit.

“Luckily, I’ll be joining you.”

“You hate museums.”

“Please, I’m totally interested in…” He pulls out the ticket, squinting his eyes at the description typed in the finest of print, “...The Gokstad ship.” He didn’t even know what tour ticket he fucking purchased.

“Oh god.” She groans, rushing over to the group to greet them. Ivar smiles, following right behind her.

God, her ass looked great in that skirt.

…

“The Gokstad ship was built at the height of the Viking period,” She begins, trying her very best to ignore Ivar’s piercing gaze. She was used to having eyes on her whenever she did her public speaking, but Ivar’s eyes were different. He wanted to devour her. “It was extremely versatile, but mostly used for raids and voyages.” The group of tourists, consisting of families with young children, began their picture taking of the massive ship.

“If you look up toward the stern posts, notice the absence of the notorious dragon heads. Although most of the wood has rotted away, archeologists believe there were never dragon heads fitted in the first place. This ship is quite fearsome without them, don’t you think?” The group erupted in murmurs as they turned their eyes up toward the very top of the ship.

The only person who lacked interest was Ivar. He smirks at her, leaning against the arched entryway while the rest of the group roamed around the perimeter of the ship, unaware of the silent battle between the handsome crutch man and the pretty tour guide. The fucker was making her nervous, her hands beginning to sweat as she fumbled with her fingers behind her back. When she shifts her eyes back to his she gulps. Slowly, he drags his tongue over his lower lip, coating the plump muscle in a shine before he bites down gently, wiggling his brows in suggestion.

Fuck him.

After what seemed like hours, the Gokstad tour finally ended and once again she brought the group back towards the entrance of the museum, suggesting they visit the cafe for a quick meal before bidding them a good day.

“I forgot how smart you are,” Ivar pulls up right behind her, his breath close enough to form gooseflesh on the nape of her neck, “My little bookworm, hmm?

“I’m nothing to you,” She whirls around, looking up at him with sad eyes and the same frown she’s been wearing for most of the tour, “Have a good day, asshole.”

…

Norwegian weather never seemed to agree with her. It was pouring outside and she didn't bring an umbrella. There wasn't even rain in the forecast till tomorrow. She runs down the steps of the museum, careful not to slip in her damn heels. The sidewalks were already slippery, and she had to mind her steps to avoid falling on her ass.

A familiar expensive car pulls up right beside her. This fucker waited an extra 2 hours for her to finish work, just to pull up in his car? "Let me give you a ride." Ivar lowers the window of the passenger seat, tapping on the gas pedal lightly to match the extremely slow pace she had in those heels.

“I’m fine.” She bites out, awkwardly maneuvering her trench coat over her head in a pathetic attempt to shield herself from the rain. It wasn’t too bad, she told herself, and the train station wasn’t that far.

“Seriously? You’re soaked and you’re gonna get sick. Stop being stubborn.” He scoffs, craning his neck to get a better look at her.

“Ivar, you're holding up traffic, just go.” The cars behind him began to honk their horns at Ivar’s turtle-like pace, but all he did was roll down his window and flip everyone off.

“Which is exactly why you should get in. Come on, it’s the least I can do.” He flashes her that charming smile, and all she could really do in that moment was to stare at his pearly white teeth and his perfect lips.

“Fine.” She grumbles, opening the door as soon as she heard him unlock it, quickly shuffling inside. She sits on her trench so as to not wet the fancy leather interior of the sleek black car. That was way too nice of her.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“Just shut the fuck up and drive.” Ivar chuckles at her irritation, unaware of the potty mouth she had, but he liked that. He does as told, hitting the gas and taking off down the street.

The drive to her flat was mostly silent with the exception of the radio playing softly in the background. She makes sure to look out the window, staring at the most mundane details of a tiled roof, or counting how many people she could spot walking down the street. That was the only way she could successfully ignore Ivar without getting trapped by his gaze. After 25 minutes he pulls up in front of her building, and she doesn’t hesitate to hop out the car, slamming the door with more force than necessary.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He rolls down the window, calling out to her retreating figure.

“Fuck no.” She yells back, not bothering to look back at him.

An elevator ride to the 3rd floor and a quick conversation with her neighbor, and she was entering her cozy flat in no time. After tossing her keys in the ceramic dish, she removes her heels, setting them to dry by the coat rack where she hung her trench and purse. She removes the tie holding her hair up in a ponytail, quickly ruffling her fingers through the knots to no avail. After switching on her fairy lights, she immediately goes to pull out a bottle of Pinot Noir from the cupboard, wasting no time in pouring herself a glass and gulping it down in almost one go. There wasn’t enough wine in the world to muddle her thoughts away from Ivar. Her heart was beginning to ache again.

The loud obnoxious knock on her door had her sighing dramatically as she already knew who was behind it. All she wanted to do was shower, maybe watch a show, eat takeout, and go to bed. It could’ve been so simple if it weren’t for Ivar.

“No one’s home.” She calls out, leaning her back against the door with the glass of red wine in her hand. She sips it lazily, hearing Ivar’s frustrated grumbling from the other side.

“Can I please come in?” His tone was boardline pleading, and she let out the most unbecoming snort before turning around and flinging the door open.

“What do you want?” She questions.

“A ‘thank you’ maybe?” He was leaning heavily against his crutch now, all that standing, walking and driving catching up to him. His nice clothes were damp from the rain and a few strands of hair escaped his almost neat bun, plastered down on his prominent forehead.

“Thanks. Goodnight.” Before she could slam the door in his face he shoots a hand out, stopping the door from closing any further.

“Please.” Was all he said, and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was something akin to sadness swimming in those big eyes of his. Fuck. She steps to the side, opening the door wide enough for him to slip in before slamming the door shut. He stands there awkwardly as she moves back to her kitchen counter, pouring herself another glass before going on her phone in search of a playlist.

“Well?” He finally questions, removing his dressy boots and placing them right beside her heels.

“Well?” She questions back, brows raised.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a glass?”

“Here’s the wine,” She pushes the bottle forward, “I’m sure you remember where the glasses are.” She hears Ivar grunt in displeasure as she flopped down on the sofa, not caring that her clothes were soaked and most likely seeping through the material of the sofa. She should probably invest in some leather ones. After a minute Ivar plops down beside her, setting aside his crutch with one hand while gripping his wine glass in the other.

Once again, there was silence between them as her playlist filtered throughout the living room from her hidden wireless speakers. She always did have a love for classical music, Ivar realized. It was something to calm her nerves, like the star projector in her room. He does a quick scan of the living room. He hadn’t been inside her flat in a while, but nothing really changed. Maybe she added a couple of new plants to her collection but that was it. He wasn’t sneezing yet, which was a good sign. That meant no candles were lit. And that fucking cat hasn’t shown up to hiss at him, another good sign.

“You want some takeout?” She asks him in a bored tone, the kind of tone she used when she wasn’t particularly keen being in someone’s presence, mostly towards those she disliked. It was always the one she used when around a specific set of Ivar’s friends, or even his brother, Sigurd. She bends forward, picking up the stack of takeout menus that were neatly placed in a pile on the small wooden coffee table, filtering through them until she pulled out a menu that caught her eye. “Mexican?”

“Mexican is fine.” He agrees, taking another sip of the bitter wine as he raked his eyes over her form for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Her cheeks were dusted in pink and her hair was a wet mess. Her white button down was soaked, giving him a great view of the white bra underneath the thin cotton fabric.

“Stop fucking staring,” She mutters, “You’re not entitled to that anymore.”

“You’re right.” He clears his throat, bringing his attention to the TV that never seemed to be in use. He stared at his reflection off the black screen, wondering just what the fuck he was doing there. It was all spontaneous, you see. He’d woken up that morning with dozens of messages from his brothers and another dozen missed calls from Freydis. But none of them were from the person he wanted.

After his lunch break he decided to take the rest of the day off, much to Ubbe’s annoyance. He left his older brother’s office while hearing him shout out something along the lines of him being a lousy paralegal. Instead of doing his actual job, which was to draw up contracts for Ubbe’s clients, he decided to pay the fucking Viking Ship Museum a visit. He decided to pay her a visit. He didn’t give a flying fuck about those Viking ships, and he had little to no interest in his ancestors and their artifacts, but there was no denying that she looked amazing while talking about it.

While she orders over the phone, her cat decides to hop on the coffee table, baring his teeth and hissing at him immediately.

“Benji, come on,” Ivar groans, lolling his head to the side to eye the angry calico, “I send you your favorite treats and this is how you repay me?” Benji hisses at him again, standing on his little legs to appear more intimidating, but all he did was look like a fat spotted meatball. She tosses a throw pillow at him, successfully hitting the cat in the face and he immediately bolts off the coffee table and into her room.

“Your cat hates me.” Ivar complains, watching her set her phone down before getting up to pour herself another glass of wine.

“That makes two of us.” Was her snarky reply, her lower lip resting over the rim of the glass. Her eyes held a glint of danger, like she’d chuck the glass at him at any given moment. Thankfully she wasn't crazy like that. Instead she rolls her eyes at him, taking a sip of her drink as she leaned against the counter.

“You hate me?” He asked softly, his brows curving up in a worrisome look. He had absolutely no business looking the way he did. It was borderline adorable and she hated her thoughts for even thinking to describe him that way.

“Maybe hate is a strong word,” She says, swirling the dark liquid around the glass, “Dislike. I dislike you, Ivar Ragnarsson.” He frowns, turning away from her searing eyes for a moment, grunting when he stood with the help of his crutch. Fucking legs. Today was not the day. He walks over to her small kitchen, stepping closer to her until he gets in her face, arms caging her in as his hands gripped at the edges of the counter. His nose was mere inches away from hers, his blue gaze so penetrating she thought she could melt right into his arms. No. This was bad.

“What a shame,” He whispers, tilting his head down until his brow touched hers. He could hear her intake a sharp breath, her fingers gripping the wine glass tightly in the small space between them as her eyes fluttered closed. She looked so beautiful like this, cheeks flushed and lips parted as if begging for a kiss, and he had the biggest desire to do just that. He tilts his head, his nose tracing alongside hers, his lips so close to molding perfectly over her own. The knock on her door had him releasing a breath of pure frustration, groaning at the interruption. She blinks up at him, her eyes glazed in that lustful way he was familiar with. God, he missed that.

Shaking her head as if to clear her mind, she pushes Ivar away with little grace, hearing him stumble a bit as she made for the door. This was bad. Very bad. Searching the pocket of her trench coat, she pulls out her wallet, fishing for a few bills before pulling the door open, grabbing the bag of food from the delivery boy and handing him the money.

“I could have paid, you know.” Ivar says as soon as she slams the door closed, watching her drop the food onto the coffee table and rummaging inside.

“Paying for food isn’t going to change anything. Flowers aren't going to change anything.” She says, sitting on the sofa with a taco in hand. Ivar bites the inside of his cheek, sitting beside her and grabbing a taco of his own. She turns on the TV, putting on some random documentary about the Sami people as she takes another messy bite of her taco. Had she always looked this good while eating? He didn’t notice before, but he sure as fuck did now.

After a few minutes of silence, she gets up, packing away the trash and moving back to the counter to pour herself the remainder of the wine. She only drank like this when she was anxious, meaning, Ivar was making her anxious. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Hurt maybe? No, women never hurt him, not since that incident with Margrethe. He was the one doing the hurting now. So what made this any different?

Again, he gets to his feet with the help of his crutch, walking over to her and caging her in again, this time with her back pressed up against his torso. He lowers his chin to her shoulder, feeling her tense up at his actions. She smelled of her usual perfume. Chanel? He couldn’t remember, but the scent was amazing and had a desire raging within him. She pushes him back just enough to turn around within his arms, tilting her head up at him in a type of defiance that made him want to ravage her.

“It seems like that blonde hasn’t been fulfilling your needs. What was her name again? Freydis?” She knew what she was doing when she fluttered those lashes, worrying her lip between her teeth. She was teasing him, he knew. He didn’t want her to mention Freydis. He didn’t want to be thinking of that bimbo, not when he’s been craving her like madman for the past week and a half and finally, she was right in front of him just waiting to be tasted.

“She could never do what you can.” He mutters, inching his face closer to hers, his lips hovering over hers as they did before. He tries to steal a kiss, but she turns away from him, his lips landing on her cheekbone. Ivar groans, annoyed, pulling back to reveal his utter displeasure. He was desperate to kiss her, to feel her lips on his where they rightfully belonged.

“What a shame.” She shrugs, bringing her glass to her lips and taking another slow sip of her wine. She knew she was driving him crazy. He wanted her, she could see it in his eyes, in the way his body yearned for hers, how his hands gripped tightly at the edge of the counter, his knuckles white. He was like a wanton whore, silently begging for release.

“She could never do what you can.” He repeats again with a sigh.

“And what’s that, hmm?” She inches closer, her face so close to his as she questions him, “What is it that I can do? Because from the look of it, you seemed quite happy with her under your sheets.” She didn’t mean to say those words that angrily, but they came out rushed and heavy, the rage bubbling up within her. Ivar takes note of the vexation in her eyes, shifting his gaze back down to her lips. Fuck it.

He surges forward, crashing his lips to hers, molding them just like he wanted to. She takes a breath of surprise, hesitating to return the passion he was giving her until finally, she gives in, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down towards her. She moans, delighting him greatly, and it was enough to grip her backside in his big hands, lifting her up onto the counter.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” He mutters over her lips, pulling out her dress shirt from her skirt, desperate to feel the soft skin beneath, “I’ve missed you.” She doesn't bother to reply, continuing to kiss him while she pushes his lapel jacket from his shoulders. She tosses it to the floor, moving to untuck his white dress shirt. “Did you miss me, kitten? I think you did.”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, asshole.” She growls, working on unbuckling his belt. Ivar grins as a new wave of arousal hits him, slapping her hands away in order to rip her shirt open. The buttons flew everywhere, clinking over the counter and onto the floor, and wherever else they happened to fall, he didn’t really care. “Ivar! Benji might eat one of those!”

“Fuck it. I’ll buy you a new cat.” He says, pulling down her damp bra to release her breasts, her nipples immediately hardening as the air hit her skin. He wastes no time in latching on to a nub, swirling his tongue over her heated flesh. She squeals, her fingers weaving their way through the roots of his hair and giving a harsh tug, his neat bun tumbling down into a messy ponytail.

“Shit.” She groans, tilting her head back as Ivar nipped and sucked, worshiping her skin until finally dragging his tongue toward the valley of her breasts and up towards her neck. Just the way she liked it.

Ivar makes a noise of approval, grunting at the tight grip she had on his shoulders. He peppered kisses up her neck and over her face, being as gentle with her as he  possibly could. Usually Ivar opted towards the rougher side of sex, with heated touches and sloppy kisses, but not that night. He wanted to give her soothing touches and tender kisses, anything he could do to please her. Anything to get her back to him.

He pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, moving his hand to cup the side of her face while the other holds onto the edge of the counter. She was breathing heavily, uncertainty swimming in her eyes as she looked up at him with a growing desire.

“Bedroom?” He whispers. She sighs, biting her lip. This was very bad. Bad, bad, bad. She nods her head weakly.

“Bedroom.”

…

Ivar didn’t notice when she had turned on her projector, but he was staring up at it now, watching the stars twinkle brightly against her ceiling. He laid with an arm behind his head, his skin still damp from recent physical activities. It was amazing, like fireworks shooting off in his head and it was exactly what he needed. It was exactly what he’d been missing, the touch of her skin, her little moans and whimpers, her nails scratching down his back. He was sure his back was riddled with angry red lines, and he knew it would sting once he showered, but he enjoyed it, so it didn’t bother him much.

He turns to look at her when he feels the bed shift, watching her naked form move in the darkness to light those damn scented candles around her room. He smiles, eyeing the little dimples on her lower back that became more pronounced when she leaned over her nightstand. The scent of roses filled the room, reminding him of the garden back in his family’s summer home. His nose pricked with the familiar sensation of a sneeze, and he immediately wrinkles his nose to keep it at bay.

She settles back on the bed, bringing the quilt patterned sheets she favored over herself. She faces him, but doesn’t look at him, choosing instead to follow the geometric shapes of a mandala printed on the linen. Ivar reaches out to touch her cheek, his finger tracing down her skin in gentle swipes. She looked so beautiful. The starlight from the ceiling and the flickering candles danced over her skin, draping her in a glow that made her look ethereal.

Any other time before last week, she would have enjoyed such touches. Okay, maybe she was enjoying them a little too much in that moment, but this was probably the last time she’d let herself fall into his sly little trap, right? Feeling his toned chest under her palms felt amazing, and his skin still had the lingering scent of his body wash. He was always meticulous in the products he used for himself, which meant he never used one of those 3 in 1 body washes that are a typical man’s holy grail. His skin always had a fresh smell, like cucumbers, and his hair had that pleasant coconut scent from the shampoo she introduced to him.

“You’re amazing.” Ivar whispers, bringing her out of her thoughts. His eyes flutter with the signs of sleep, his day ending in complete satisfaction. She was almost sad to be bursting his bubble, but if it were the other way around he wouldn’t be sad to burst hers. She clears her throat, preparing her next words carefully.

“Ivar?”

“Hm?”

“You can leave now.” Whatever drowsiness he felt had disappeared almost immediately, eyes now wide enough to bulge from his sockets. She wanted to laugh, but felt it would ruin the moment, and he wouldn’t take her seriously if she broke out in laughter, so she kept her serious face on.

“You don’t want me to sleepover?” He asked, dumbfounded, sitting up to lean on his elbows, gazing down at her.

“What for? You hate it here.” She says, waving her hand around to make her point. Ivar frowns, not really understanding her. She used to beg for him to stay, and she eventually stopped asking him after a while, but he was so sure that having him there and him deciding to spend the night would make her happy, so why was she not happy?

“I don’t.” He answers.

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” He pouts, “I just prefer my place.”

“I’m not stopping you from going, Ivar.” She says flatly. His expression was comedic, mouth slightly agape and eyes blinking stupidly. The sheets pool around his waist as he sits up, staring down at his hands. His ego had just taken a beating.

“Are you serious?”

“Very.” Ivar’s face twists in utter confusion. How could she deny him? She wanted him. She loved him...didn’t she?

“But…”

“What’s the matter?” She moves closer to him, “Are you upset?” She taunts, her naked chest in full view for him to admire, but before he could, she grabs his jaw tightly, holding it in place to lock eyes with him. His blue irises were intense and mesmerizing, and was one of the reasons why she fell for him so hard. Ivar was beautiful, but his heart was ugly, and he needed to be put in his place. “Did you want me to still be in love with you despite the many times you’ve warned me not to?” Ivar remains silent, searching her eyes for something more than the words she’s uttered. There was nothing there.

She loosens her grip on his jaw, pushing him away from her. His face falls, utterly dejected. The corners of his mouth twitch as he stares at her, noting the little smirk that played on her lips.

“Get the fuck out of my flat, Ivar.”

...

@a-daydreamers-day @heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @shannygoatgruff @syrenak​

[jobrookekarev]

I Remember it All Too Well

Chapter One of Six: Invisible String Tying You to Me

Words: 2200

Summary: Alex knew from the moment he signed the divorce papers that leaving Jo and Seattle was the worst mistake of his life. As Alex works his way back to Seattle, he sees Jo again four times before she allows him back into her life. 

Or

The four times Alex saw Jo after their divorce, and the one time they finally got back together with her, plus a soft epilogue.

Fandom: Grey's Anatomy

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Jo Wilson, Alex Karev, Helen Karev, Eli Stevens, Alexis Stevens.

Rating: General Audiences

Additional Tags: Regret, Longing, Pining, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Foster Kid, Adoption, the Pandemic.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: Will update weekly

……………………………………………………………………

Alex was in the kitchen getting dinner ready. It was spaghetti night which means twice the mess as usual nights as he dumped the first jar of spaghetti sauce into the huge pot on the stove. 

“Here you go, Daddy,” Eli said, handing him the other jar of spaghetti sauce.

“Thanks, bud,” Alex smiled at Eli, his little co-chef tonight.

Eli ran off to get the noodles as Alex put the other jar of sauce in the pot and turned on the burner to simmer.

Izzie always went all out with the homemade sauce and everything, but Alex made a version of spaghetti sauce that he and Jo used to make. It was basically just, roasted ground beef, two different kinds of store-bought spaghetti sauce, and a dash of fresh garlic and hot pepper flakes. Izzie hated it, but the twins absolutely loved it and she wasn’t here to tell him what to do. So Daddy’s spaghetti sauce it was.

“Alex!” He heard his mother call out to him from the office down the hall. “There's something wrong with my video call!”

“Just a second mom,” Alex said as he put the can of sauce in the sink and wiped his hands. 

“Eli hold off on the noodles and don’t do anything in the kitchen until I get back,” Alex said, taking the pack of noodles from him.

“Okay,” Eli said as he scurried off to join his sister on the carpet as she played with their tablet. It was a little pre-dinner technology time and they were completely engrossed in it and didn't even notice as Alex left the room. 

He walked down the hall to the little office Helen had in the corner of the house. Ever since the pandemic started Alex had moved back to Iowa to keep an eye on his mother during the lockdown. The library had closed and Helen struggled to maintain her schedule. Having Alex there had helped as he set her up with her therapist two times a week and she was able to help the kids with their school work in place of her work at the library. It wasn’t perfect, but they made do.

Izzie wasn't with them as the two of them were fighting. Izzie was upset he wouldn't call her his girlfriend, despite their relationship and the fact that they lived and parented together. Alex tried to love her and he wanted to make it work, but he couldn't just jump all in. Izzie wanted to pick up where they left off. She wanted them to be together, so she could say she had the perfect life; a partner, and kids, and everything. However, Alex wasn't ready to fully love her like that again. Truth be told he was still in love with Jo. He needed time to let go of Jo and grieve the loss of his marriage to her. 

The pandemic had put a strain on all of that and Izzie had opted to stay back in Kansas, although she called every day to talk to the kids. As Izzie continued to work through the pandemic, Alex was left alone to parent the twins when the schools closed. Before the shutdown, Alex hadn't been able to find a job and was just subbing for the Ped’s attendings at the hospital Izzie worked at. With the quarantine that had transitioned to the occasional Zoom call consult and now he was mostly just a stay-at-home dad to the twins. 

“I had the email on the computer and I clicked the link, but then this little box popped up and asked for a password, but I've never used a password before?” Helen explained as she pointed to the computer set up on the desk for a video call with her doctor. 

She sat back in the chair and twisted her fingers as she looked up at the clock. It was five minutes past five and he could tell she was getting upset that the call hadn't gone as planned throwing off her schedule. She was going to therapy twice a week and had an extra doctor’s video appointment every other week, on Friday evenings. 

“Okay, let me see,” Alex said as he pulled up the zoom meeting on the computer. He double checked the internet settings and went back to the original email. Alex quickly read it over. It was the standard zoom email with time and place and the passcode at the bottom. Alex clicked the link and waited for it to start up. 

The Zoom started up but prompted him for the password and Alex quickly input the code and the zoom meeting connection started up on the screen.

“Thank you, Alex, but you should go,” Helen urged as she put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. 

Alex stepped away to give his mother her privacy, but then the video connected and a baby appeared on the screen. The baby couldn't have been more than six months old as the camera was angled to the floor so they could see the baby sitting up on a blanket surrounded by toys. The baby smiled as soon as the video started. They locked eyes with Helen and babbled excitedly before leaning towards her. The baby excitedly babbled, as they seemed to recognize Helen and she smiled as she looked at them.

“Hello, little one,” Helen said as she leaned forward and waved at the baby. “I’m so happy to see you, but where’s your Mommy?”

Alex stepped forward and smiled as he watched them interact. He wasn't surprised that the doctor put their computer on their coffee table and did Zoom meetings with their baby. They were in the middle of a pandemic and he had done the same with the twins when he consulted for a few Ped’s cases at the hospital in Kansas City. Then he recognized the couch behind the baby. It was the white couch that Jo had bought for him with his money that she won after the ping pong match. The room around the baby was the loft in Seattle.

“Hey, do you see Grandma?” Jo's sweet voice came through the line as she sat down on the floor next to the baby and picked them up before sitting them in her lap. “I was worried when you were late. I was just about to call you, but I couldn’t find my phone... Alex?” 

Alex stood there dumbfounded as they locked eyes. Jo was just as shocked to see him as he was, but only for a moment before Jo grew angry and reached forward to end the call.

“No, Josephine, please wait, he's leaving,” Helen pleaded with her but it was too late as Jo closed the laptop and ended the call.

Helen turned around and glared at him. “I told you to go.” 

“No you can't do that, you can't just tell me to leave when you've been video chatting with my ex-wife and her baby?” Alex said, he tried not to get too upset, but he couldn't help it.

Alex just stood there shocked as he thought about Jo and the baby in her lap, video chatting with his mother. This had to have been an ongoing thing as Helen had it scheduled out every other Friday for weeks. He remembered walking past the door one time and hearing baby giggles, he brushed it off as just weird feedback, but there was a baby. 

It was Jo’s baby. He didn't even know how she’s had a baby. She couldn't have been pregnant when he left because the baby was around six months old and he'd only divorce her five months and twenty-one days ago. So unless she’d given birth right after he left Seattle the baby wasn’t theirs and he’d certainly know if Jo was nine months pregnant before he left. The tally in his head of how long it had been since he left her was a constant reminder of the life he'd left behind. 

“Just because you cut Josephine out of your life doesn't mean that I have to,” Helen said, raising her voice as she twisted her fingers. “When you left she had no one, no family, I still remember the day she called me to say that you had divorced her. Instead of hearing it from you, I heard from my daughter-in-law that my son had two kids and an ex-wife in Kansas and that he was divorcing her to be with them.”

“So what, you just took her side in everything?” Alex said, getting defensive as he crossed his arms.

“I'm not on anybody's side,” Helen insisted, getting more upset. “I let you come stay with me and, I love you, Alex I do, and I love your twins, and I love being a Grandma to them, but I love having Josephine as my daughter-in-law, too. Before your divorce, Josephine and I called each other twice a month and after you left her I continued to call her, she never stopped taking my calls, unlike how you did. It's part of my routine and I'm so gracious that she still lets me be a part of her life. Her one condition was that I couldn't tell you that we were still in contact and I respected that.”

Alex sat down in the chair across from his mom as he processed the information. He didn't know anything about Jo’s life now. Meredith wouldn't tell him anything when they talk, despite how he asked occasionally. 

“I'm sorry, you're right and you have every right to keep in contact with Jo,” Alex said as Helen nodded and relaxed back into her chair. “How is she? The baby, is it hers?”

“Sort of, he’s her foster baby and she’s trying to adopt him. Josephine picked him up from the fire station after his birth parents dropped him off there and she’s been fostering him ever since. His name is Asher, he just turned six months old last week,” Helen said as she smiled and pulled out her phone, she quickly pulled up a picture of them and handed her phone to Alex. 

Jo was holding Asher and they were pressed up against each other cheek to cheek. Jo had such a wide smile across her face, one that he had seen many times when she was joyously happy and it made him smile too. They had been trying for a baby before he left and it made his heartache, despite how happy he was for her. 

“He’s really cute,” Alex said handing the phone back to his mother, but the image remained burned into his mind. 

“Yeah he's such a sweetheart too, always babbling on about something,” Helen said as she looks down at the picture. 

“Why don't you text Jo and tell her that I'm gone. I won't interrupt your video chats again, maybe she'll call back,” Alex said as he got up and went to the door.

“Thank you, Alex,” Helen said standing up and reaching to put a hand on his cheek. 

Alex just nodded and left. He went back down the hall and went back to the pot of sauce, but he couldn't get his mind off the image of Jo and Asher. He looked over at the twins. They were completely engrossed in the game they were playing. It was this water game where they had to draw a path to give water to an alligator so they could take a shower. Alexis was directing Eli's hand and trying to draw the path over him as they argued over the right path for the water. 

“Alexis let your brother create the path for the water this time, you can do the next one,” Alex said to them as he turned the heat on the spaghetti sauce down as it had started bubbling over while he was gone. “But just five more minutes guys and then I need your help to set the table.”

“Okay,” They quickly replied in sync, but didn't look up from their game.

It was easy for Alex to step back into the role of father for his twins and focus on the life he had in front of him, but he couldn't get Jo off his mind. Alex started the water for the pasta set before he got out a stack of four plates and set them on the counter where the kids could reach them. Then he walked back down the hall. Alex pressed his ear up against the door as he heard Jo and Helen talking while Asher babbled in the background. He heard Jo laugh at something that Asher did and he took in a breath as a knot formed in his chest. 

He had regretted his decision to divorce Jo from the second he sent out the papers, but he was too much of a coward to take it back now. Alex loved Alexis and Eli with every fiber of his being and he didn't regret a second of his life with them. He just wished he could go back and tell Jo about them. He wished he would have asked her to co-parent them with him. He wished he would have done all this with her, but he didn't and he couldn't take it back now. So he just stood there and he closed his eyes as he listened to her laugh.

[365days365movies]

April 8, 2021: Swiss Army Man (2016) (Recap: Part One)

Don’t think about the Boy who Lived.

Daniel Radcliffe is a talented actor with a wider range than he’s given credit for. He’s been working since childhood, and has picked up quite a lot over time. While most famous for...a certain role that will go unnamed...he famously started his stage career in 2007 with the musical Equus, and that later progressed to How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, and Endgame.

Meanwhile, he also made appearances of television in varied roles, live-action and animated. He started his career in an adaptation of David Copperfield in 1999, voiced a character on The Simpsons three separate times, hosted Saturday Night Live in 2012, and also currently has an excellent role in the anthology series Miracle Workers.

And MEANWHILE, he also had quite the robust film career, especially after...the role which shall not be named. There were a few films made during that time period, like December Boys and The Woman in Black, but most of his time was understandably taken up, as was his public image. That, of course, ends in 2011. The first time I saw him in a role outside he who shall not be named was in the film Kill Your Darlings, about the collegiate career and romance in the life of famous gay poet Allen Ginsburg. It was very good!

The same year, 2013, he starred in Horns, a unique fantasy film that I considered watching for Fantasy March. His film career would be full of ups (The F Word, Trainwreck, Lost in London) and downs (Victor Frankenstein, Now You See Me 2, Playmobil: the Movie oh God REALLY JESUS). And right in the middle of those came one of his most famous weird roles. And that’s today’s focus. And I’ve been wanting to watch it for YEARS. And while we’re talking about him, let’s talk about this film’s other star: Paul Dano.

Dano’s career also began young, and in the opposite way to Radcliffe’s: in theatre first. After a stint on Broadway at the age of 12 (GODDAMN) in Inherit the Wind, as well as several other productions, he transitioned to film in 2000, around the same time that Radcliffe started as well. Eventually, he gained acclaim with his role in Little Miss Sunshine, and then...anybody else in the mood for a milkshake right about now?

Yeah, I haven’t seen that movie, but I really should this year. Consider it on my list...at some point. I’ll figure it out. Anyway, Dano’s role in There Will Be Blood only increased his acclaim, and found him acting in a number of indie films. Dano’s definitely not a blockbuster guy, but that’s not to say that he completely avoids them either. He’s been in Knight and Day, Cowboys and Aliens, and Looper, which all fall under that category. And except for the last one...they aren’t especially good, either. 

But again, he was also in 12 Years a Slave, Okja, Wildlife, Where the Wild Things Are, and Meek’s Cutoff, and all of those were critically acclaimed, and some almost reached blockbuster status themselves. So I don’t really know how to feel about his upcoming role as...the Riddler.

Yeah, we’ll see, but I’m holding my breath. Dano’s great, and I love the Riddler, but...I dunno. Like I said, we’ll see. But in the meantime, that’s enough navel-gazing. Let’s watch Swiss Army Man! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin at sea. If you have thalassophobia, this is already terrifying for you. After seeing many plastics floating on the ocean, covered in written messages, we make our way to a deserted island, where Hank Thompson (Paul Dano) is committing suicide after being stranded there for so long.

However, as he does, he spies someone lying on the beach. The rope snaps, and Hank runs over to greet the body, hoping that he isn’t dead. Unfortunately, after a very loud burst of flatulence, it’s pretty damn clear that this is a dead body. And yes, this is Daniel Radcliffe, but I’ll introduce him formerly when the time comes.

Hank’s sad that the guy isn’t alive, but still speaks to him about his hopes and dreams in the past. He’d always wanted a life of parties and friends and love, and imagined that he’d see that kind of life in a flash before he died. Instead, he only saw the body, who responds with yet another fart. But with that, Hank goes back to trying to hang himself. 

And as he does...the body keeps interrupting with its INSANE gas. Like, it’s so bad that the body keeps shaking as if it were alive. The body washes into the sea, and its flatulence begins to propel it away from the shore. Hank sees this, and he uses the humming he was doing to make the Intro Song, which is strangely mesmerizing? Like, literally soundtrack-worthy, I’m not kidding. He also grabs a piece of his noose, uses it to grab onto the body, and rides it as the farts propel them both far away from the beach. It’s absolutely absurd...and kind of great. And then the titles play.

Hank wakes up on the short of a different island, or possible a larger land mass, and is overjoyed by the change in scenery. He shouts his name to the world, and credits the body with his rescue. No longer stranded in the Pacific, as far as we know, he tries to use his phone, to no avail. He decides to head out and look for help, grabbing a bag of Cheetos that washed up alongside them, bids the body farewell...and then comes back for it.

Carrying the farting body on his back (and kind of treating him as if he’s alive), he wanders through the forest to find help. He wonders if the gas is the result of decomposition (likely, if excessive), or if its the body’s soul leaving it. Either way, the trudge forward. They settle in a cave for the night, as it rains heavily outside. As Hank is want to do, he hums to himself, and shares more of his personal life with the body, as he sings to it. And yeah, I’ve been linking to these songs, because the soundtrack is genuinely fascinating to me.

Morning comes, and Hank awakes to a raccoon prying at the body, which he subsequently chases for food. In his desperation for food and water, he’s once again about to leave the body in the cave, but notices it leaking copious amounts of water from its mouth, which it had collected from the cave walls overnight. And yes...he drinks it. Which is absolutely disgusting when you think about it, which I now choose NOT to.

In the process, Hank squeezes the body for more water, and air escapes his mouth in such a way that it sounds like it’s speaking a name: Manny (Daniel Radcliffe). From that, Hank gets the body to speak his name and a simple greeting, but grows frustrated from the inability of the body to speak properly. This leads to him being a bit abusive towards him, reminding him unfavorably of his own father. Ooh, character revelations, me like.

Anyway, he apologizes to Manny for treating him that way...and Manny responds. Which FREAKS HANK THE FUCK OUT, understandably, and he punches Manny and flees the cave. As he comes back, Manny is indeed speaking outright, which is either a miracle or Hank just straight-up hallucinating. Either way, Hank asks Manny to try and remember his past life, but all he can get is the vague recollection of the Jurassic Park theme song. But Manny can’t remember the movie itself, which is when Hank says the most correct line ever said in all of film.

You’re goddamn right. Anyway, from, there, Hank tries to teach Manny about the ways of the world, and the nature of life and death. And the resulting conversation is absolutely fuckin’ ridiculous, and I love it all. Through the process, Manny learns about the world, and Hank asks him to help get home.

In the process, Manny inadvertently insults Hank, causing to walk off and once again look for help, only to eat poison berries and throw up for a sec. The two reunite, and their conversation turns to the topic of sex. See, there are some magazines in the cave that they’re in, which prompts some questions about women, sex, and love. To both of their surprise, this conversation causes Manny’s heart to beat! Spurred on, Hank continues, and Manny’s heart appears to reawaken...as does his penis. That’s a link to the soundtrack, I promise.

Hank and Manny both freak out, as his little Manny seems to have a mind (and motility) of its own. But in the ever absurd nature of this movie’s premise, this too has a secondary function: it’s a compass. Yup. And that prompts the next step of their journey, which is full of a conversation about fetishes and masturbation. Yeah, Hank’s surprised about that, too.

This leads to a conversation about his parents, as well as somewhat traumatic parts of his childhood, including his mother’s premature death. This makes Hank upset, and he lashes out at Manny, who briefly returns to being dead until Hank apologizes. As they go on, however, they encounter another denizen of the forest: a bear. This causes the two to fall off a cliff, and causes Hank’s phone to fall out of his pocket and turn on, allowing Manny to see the picture of a girl on his background.

Manny’s enraptured by the picture, and constantly asks to see her again, as Hank continues to struggle for food. The problem is that Hank needs to conserve the power on the phone, but Manny asks if Hank can dress up as the girl in order to help him remember, and bring him back to life to help save them both. He does so reluctantly, but Manny calls him beautiful, to which Hank reacts positively. This not only helps Manny come to life a little more, but also leads Hank to shave to look more convincing for Manny...and possibly for Hank, too.

As these two engage on a fake date and create a fake bus (while Manny listens to a fake self-sung cover of Cotton Eye Joe that I’m putting on my playlist), this is a good time to mention the one thing I know about this movie...maybe. I don’t quite remember where I heard this, but I have heard that this film is possibly a commentary on the transgender experience, or at the very least that Hank is transgender, but hasn’t come to terms with that as of yet. Now, I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I have heard that, and I’m definitely interested to see if that’s the direction this goes. This scene definitely seems to somewhat confirm this theory. Also, I will say (as I have said before when watching The Danish Girl), I’m a straight dude of the cissexual sort, so this is in NO WAY in my wheelhouse, but I still figured I’d mention it.

We’re also at the halfway point now, so this would seem like a good time to pause for Part 2! See you there!