#wire mag

[lickmycoffeecup]

Having been through TMA, and still going through Malevolent and TMAGP… “Let’s try to live through the next few moments” INSTANTLY stressed me out 😂

Cause Ma’am, you have no idea how hard that is for some people

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

A lot of my collecting of WWII stuff was inspired by Medal of Honor: Frontline. I was playing it one day the summer I had my first job and I wondered while playing how hard it would be to find a helmet from WWII.

After acquiring said helmet, I set about putting together the uniform of this little knockoff G.I. Joe I had bought when I was a freshman in High School, dubbed "pocket Jimmy Patterson"

Pocket Jimmy Patterson there is a Sergeant in the 101st and was sold as a D-Day soldier but he's actually dressed for Market Garden.

I landed on paratroopers in part because of pocket Jimmy Patterson, and in part because I like airplanes. From there, I went with the 101st over the 82nd because I already thought they had the best patch, I liked the playing card insignia painted on the side of the helmet, the number 101 is aesthetically pleasing, and I didn't know about any other airborne units.

I mean,

Come on.

(the 101st is the one on the left, and the 82nd on the right, if you didn't already know)

I say all that because if you know anything about WWII collecting and especially re-enacting you know that elite units are dramatically over-represented and for the U.S. nobody more than the 101st, and this can be blamed almost exclusively on Band of Brothers, a show I had not even seen when I landed on the 101st.

How bad is it?

Well, by way of illustration, as a stress response to the final stages of my dissertation I've been retreating into buying WWII paratrooper stuff again, and I was questioning whether I hadn't better go with another unit this time. I had a great great uncle killed in the Philippines in WWII who was in the 11th Airborne so that's an obvious candidate, but of course if you want to stick to Europe and fighting Nazis your options are the 82nd, 101st, or 17th. Of those, the 17th only really got into the war in 1945 and if you want to do Normandy, as some 90% of re-enactments do, then you're between the 82nd and the 101st.

The 82nd has a much longer history than the 101st and, objectively, and I mean this with all implied asterisks and am speaking as though I were a twelve year old who does not know better, the 82nd is cooler, the inferior number/patch notwithstanding.

So I was on a website that is well-regarded for selling WWII militaria and they have a section for patches and I was doing some comparison of original WWII-era divisional patches. The cheapest 101st Airborne patch from WWII this guy has for sale is $175, most of them hovering closer to $300, and some in the $600 range.

11th, 17th, and 82nd patches are in the $50 range.

When I still did re-enacting as the 101st, I remember talking to some of the guys who were disappointed with the rather low "authenticity" standards of our unit (always something of a joke when a considerable number of G.I. re-enactors are in their 40s-60s and dramatically overweight), especially considering that the 101st Airborne are one of the most cartoonishly over-documented units in WWII, for whom reproductions of everything are widely available, and so there's really no excuse not to have your uniform and equipment more or less 100% correct.

Sure enough, trying to do a little research into the 82nd to see what that pool would be like, the resources are shockingly slim. The 101st had two combat jumps in WWII, Normandy and Holland. The 82nd jumped into Sicily, Salerno, Normandy, southern France, and Holland. They have a much longer combat record and are, comparatively speaking, almost totally neglected by idiots like me who are into WWII.

Even as I say all this

I am having a hard time severing the internal connection to 101

[hide-your-bugs-away]

CALL MY ROOM A ZOO BECAUSE THERE ARE A LOT OF ANIMALS IN HERE.

[reygunsandreynbows]

GODDAMIT WHY ARE PODCAST WRITERS SO GOOD.

I JUST WANT A CHARACTER THAT I CAN SHIT FOR BEING AN INDEIABLY SHITTY PERSON WHIS ACTIONS OUTWEIGH ANY WEAK SEMBLANCE OF MORALITY THAT FORMS A THINLY VEILED EXCUSE WITHIN THEIR MOTIVATIONS

instead I have a collection of beautifully written and inherently human flawed characters who yes they do shitty things but I cannot truly say that I could never do that, never been them, never fall down their path and into their actions.

The artistry is so stunning like I can't hate these characters, I can't justly call them irredeemable monsters. I sit here wanting then to make a good choice, begging for them to prove that there is still hope because I see crates of broken fragments of myself and my hope, my dreams, my fears and who I may be or am scared to be within each and every one of them.

equally there is no clear line of where the protagnoists end and antagonists begin. every character exhibits justification for the sympathy and equally they each show a reason to hate them. they all have some factor about them that individually is often treated within society as justification for hatred, as enough to write them off. and yet these characters are the ones we're rooting for, the ones we've decided are worth supporting but other than the narrative perspective there's no defining feature that differentiates them.

fuck you writers. FUCK. YOU.

[cosmogenous]

okay i spend too much time on the internet

[agiroflee98]

Day 2 - Wired Mag 📸

I really love the Wired Magazine photos that Pedro took back in January - especially this one. The only change I made was the way the light shone on him - instead of shining on one eye, I made the light look like the visor on Mando's helmet. I thought that would look pretty cool, especially since the cover says "Unmasking" Pedro Pascal. <3 <3 <3

[dare-g]

Some really good images from Wired 11/1995

[dzknik]

listening to jon and martin being stuck in a computer and thinking about MAG 65 Binary and the angles cut me when i try to think and it’s cold without blood and it feels like thinking through a cheese wire and the maze is sharp on my mind and

[determunition]

i took the switcheroo week as an excuse to finally try my hand at some scrybeswap designs! got a bit carried away as you can see, i love doing character design so much

decided to keep their species/major design elements fairly consistent (e.g. grimora's makeup, mag being vague and indistinct, leshy having nonhuman legs, p03 only having one arm) while still switching up their aesthetics as needed; super happy with all of these as a result!

design notes for each scrybe under the cut! def open to any further questions or curiosities, i always think way too hard about characters while designing them lmao

P03:

scrybe of the dead: i went for a possessed tv vibe; he's still mechanical but those bones do have a living soul trapped in them...also shoutout to @squid-hug for suggesting the x-ray machine, i was very tickled by that lmao

scrybe of beasts: overgrown old bot was kind of a given for this one, but i was also thinking that the plants are part of what's keeping him running somehow

scrybe of magicks: the magic eye is the core powering that top monitor, and the two side monitors display what he's seeing with that eye at any given time

grimora:

scrybe of beasts: she's a witch! like a chill terry pratchett kind of witch, she works with a lot of herbs and such; also her makeup is meant to mimic blood drops

scrybe of magicks: magick grimora is more of a warlock type, her magic is a lot more sinister and she almost never opens her eyes (whereas her third eye is basically always open)

scrybe of tech: tech grimora is kind of a wacky machinist-flavored dr. frankenstein; she inscribes by writing on circuitboards!

leshy:

scrybe of the dead: this leshy is a gargoyle/vampire hybrid! i thought a mirror would be fun for him bc you can get two different cultural refs; medusa (bc stone gargoyle), and the idea that vampires don't appear in mirrors!

scrybe of magicks: i decided to make him a bird guy (kinda harpy-esque) bc he's basically a more whimsical baba yaga hermit; the baba yaga thing carries over from slavic folklore obvs. also he has polycoria!

scrybe of tech: tech leshy was super fun, bc he's steampunk! rather than animal legs i gave him digitigrade robot legs, but other than that he's the most like, normal human guy here probably lmao; despite his well-adjusted appearance though i still think he's got a bit of freaky wonk in him

magnificus:

scrybe of the dead: this one was very ring-inspired lol, got those clump of hair you found in the shower drain vibes

scrybe of beasts: bush magnificus real! i think he'd be a bit more quirky trickster fae in this form

scrybe of tech: one of my favorites; tech mag is an emaciated cyborg draped in so many loose cords and wires that you can't tell what he looks like anymore. a lot of those cords are connected to him, and he plugs them in wherever as needed! he also has a drawing stylus, making him just an average art student tbh lmao

[bruisedboys]

Jealous Finnick part 2?

Instead it’s with Peeta and training for the Quarter Quell? 👀

of course honey! thank you for requesting x

finnick odair x fem!tribute!reader

Finnick's not exactly pleased when he finishes in the training simulation and finds you teaching Peeta how to make a fish hook. Your fingers are quick and delicate as they work thin bronze wire around a makeshift hook. Peeta copies you, pressed far too close to your side for Finnick's liking. The younger blonde is totally enraptured, and sure, Finnick doesn't blame him, you're beautiful, but still — a frown works onto his face on it's own accord.

"Hey," he makes himself known as he approaches your workstation, because you're too focused on your work, and Peeta's too focused on you.

You look up at the sound of his voice and beam. It makes Finnick feel a little better you're so happy to see him. "Finnick, hey. You're done already?"

Finnick's frown deepens. "Yeah. I got bored."

"You got bored of chucking your spear at stuff?" You tease.

Peeta laughs next to you. Something claws at Finnick’s heart.

"Very funny, sweetheart," he tells you, ignoring Peeta. He rounds the table to get an arm around your hips, tucking his chin over your shoulder, his front pressed to your back. "What are you making?"

You warm at his closeness. "Just a hook. It’s not very good. Mags showed me how, remember?"

Finnick hums, watching your hands over your shoulder. "Mm, I remember. It looks good to me."

"Peeta's looks better," you say. "Pete, hun, show him yours."

Pete? Hun? Finnick feels suddenly like he's been punched in the throat. He can’t focus as Peeta hands his hook over and you show it to Finnick, raving about the attention to detail, or something. He‘a hardly listening, too busy trying not to kick Peeta in the leg. Pins and needles bite at his skin and dance over his palms. He accidentally digs his fingers too hard into your hip and you twist in his hold to look up at him, concerned.

"Hey, are you okay?" You ask him. You forget the hooks, setting them on the table and twisting to look at Finnick properly. You touch his arm. “Baby, you're really stiff."

Finnick pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “Am I?"

You hum and take his jaw in your hand. "Yeah, honey." You pout at him, your hand dropping to his shoulder where you dig your thumb into the muscle there. "Could I give you a massage later, would that help?"

Finnick swallows hard. "I— yeah, okay." You want to give him a massage? You’re the loveliest person on the planet, he thinks.

"Okay,” you nod. “Remind me tonight, yeah?"

You beam at him and push up onto your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. Finnick feels far too overwhelmed to kiss back. He’s still dazed when you pull away and turn back to Peeta, who looks half embarrassed, like he shouldn’t be watching such an unabashed show of affection.

“Peeta was gonna show me some of his camouflage tricks,” you tell Finnick. “Did you wanna come, too?"

Finnick doesn’t answer right away, and at his pause, you lace your fingers through his and smile up at him, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Please?” You ask, all sugary sweet, practically dripping in fondness.

“Okay,” Finnick nods, feeling a bit like you’ve put him under a spell. “Yeah.”

You beam at him and then drag him with you to follow Peeta to the opposite corner of the training room. Finnick doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but he knows for sure now he never had any reason to be jealous.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

[itsgrimeytime]

feelin' flirty || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: Being a long-lost friend of Maggie's, you wind up at the prison, a line of dead walkers behind you. You are promptly confronted with one Rick Grimes, and it's suddenly your life's goal to flirt with him as much as you can. Rick doesn't usually respond, but what if one day he does?

TWs: innuendos, talk of sex, shameless (and I mean shameless) flirting, mention of both Beth and Hershel's deaths, gunshot wound, blood, guns, knives, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: Tumblr has deleted this THREE times. I am furious, hello??? Also, someone should've been hardcore flirting with Rick, I'll say it. That's what this is based on. Do I have social anxiety? Yes, but am I still writing this? I am. Don't ask questions. ALSO, I do not know the TWD timeline at all, so I am making it up, thank you. Enjoy :))) ]]

With one last stab, you finished off the last... zombie? You didn't really call them anything, since you were alone. Maybe you should think about that a little more.

Wordlessly, you turned and stabbed another square in the head. Undead? No. Zombie? No, too cliché-

Another one.

It went on like that for a few more minutes, before you took a breath -with no answer to your question. Frowning at your knife being covered in... guts, for lack of a better word, you crouched down and wiped it on the grass.

What was that, 15? You didn't really count, but you should have. You were trying to get a new personal best actually-

"Hey!"

You froze, pocketing your knife, before spinning on your heel. The voice was fairly distant, so you weren't worried. Instead, close enough for it to matter, was a big building with high walls and barbed wire at the top of them. A prison. Huh.

"Up here!" The voice called again, and you startled.

Shading your eyes from the sun, you looked up into the watchtower, and sure enough, there was a silhouette. A guy, you think, with dark hair. That was about all you could say.

"Yeah?" You called back, curiously.

"That was cool as shit!"

You laughed out, probably for the first time in months, "Thank you, mysterious stranger!"

"Glenn!" He clarified.

Huh, you pursed your lips, before responding, "Y/N!"

"Nice to meet you!"

You laughed again, before feeling a pain in your stomach. When was the last time you'd eaten? You paused, trying to think. Three days ago (there was a box of Twinkies that hadn't expired yet in a stranded supermarket). Not great.

"Hey, Glenn?" You yelled, a little hopeful.

"Yeah?"

You pursed your lips, before deciding -taking a chance, really, "You got any food in there?"

Now, you were walking through the gate, which was a little dramatic. But, you kinda liked it. It felt like you were kind of a big deal, well, until there was a swarm of eyes on you. All different kinds.

You froze, licking across your teeth.

And then, a man ran up to your side -gasping a little. Was that Glenn? How did he-

He offered his hand to shake, and you accepted it -looking at the crowd, a little defensively.

"Are they going to kill me? Or...?"

"Shit," he turned to them, "-They just want some food, guys, c'mon!"

None of them even flinched.

"I don't bite," you joked, before frowning, "-shit. That was in bad taste-"

And then, a voice called out into the tense air.

"Y/N?"

You peeked over heads, looking, because-

Your eyes locked onto hers, and you nearly jumped in place -big smile blooming along your lips, "Holy shit, Mags?!"

You'd been friends, back in high school. You'd left junior year and tried to keep in touch. It just didn't work out. (You can't even remember now if it was her or you who stopped, at this point.)

Before she could so much as reply, you ran to her -arms wide open. She eagerly reciprocated, spinning a little with the force -you'd gotten pretty good at running at this point.

"What the fuck?" You breathed into her shoulder, and she laughed big and loud, "-What are the chances?"

With a thought, you pulled back -still holding her shoulders, "Are your Dad and Beth here?"

"Yeah," she cheered, and something in you felt relieved. Thank god, they were okay.

"And, you?" She offered, a little hesitantly -notable lack at your side.

You pressed your lips together, swallowing, and shook your head, "Been alone since the beginning."

Maggie frowned, hand coming up to rest on your arm and squeezing once.

"Only lived with my boyfriend," you explained, eager to lighten the mood, "-and he actually cheated on me, so. Wasn't the worst lost."

She laughed a little, before asking -carefully, "And your family?"

Something in your chest stung, you wordlessly shook your head. (Visions of unhinged jaws and blood filling it.)

She frowned, whispering her apologies before hugging you again. You leaned into it that time.

And then, you jumped back, excited, "You have to bring me to your family, Mags, it's been so long-"

"Ya 'ave to talk to Rick first," a voice grumbled out behind you.

You spun on your heel, facing a man. Tall, brunette, dark eyes, arms crossed in front of him (strong, you noted), but you could tell in his stance. He was a layer of stone walls, and you did not want to mine.

And then, your eyes smoothed across his back. Is that a fucking crossbow? Sick.

"Whose Rick?" You asked instead, Maggie still holding your arm.

"Whose askin'?"

That, was a good voice. Was your first thought as you turned back around, and your eyes landed on a figure.

Your voice got stuck in your throat.

He was tall, stood like he owned the place (and based on the recommendation, maybe he did), all broad shoulders and strong gaze. Speaking of gaze, he had probably the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. And his hair was brown and curly, a few hung forward on his face. His jaw was unspeakable, and his button-up shirt had a few extra buttons undone to account for the heat. Holy shit.

Maggie elbowed you, and you blinked.

"Uh, me," you answered, clearing your throat -motioning to Glenn, "-he said you had some food and I'm... hungry."

Maggie promptly stomped on your toe. You pressed your lips together trying not to laugh, carefully looking over his face to see if he'd picked up on it at all. Nothing. A shame, really.

Oh well, maybe next time.

"Look, Rick," she interrupted your thoughts, "-I know 'em, really well. Y/N is a good person."

Rick's eyes dipped to you, looking you over. Oh, the words were right there on the tip of your tongue. It would be so easy-

You're trying to survive, Y/N, your mind pressed, focus.

You bit at your lip, but before you could speak for yourself, Glenn did.

"I saw 'em take on a swarm outside," he added, eyes darting to Maggie (Huh.), "-without breaking a sweat."

There are other things I can do without breaking a sweat, your brain immediately remarked, this really was too easy.

Rick seemed to think about it a second, before turning to you, "Ya got a gun?"

I'd like to be loaded with-

"No," you cleared your throat, pulling out your knife (it was one of those multicolored ones, it's why you liked it clean), "-just this."

He hummed, tilting his head with a mouth shrug, "'At's impressive."

I bet your-

You pinched your arm, swallowing, "So, what? Am I in or not?"

Rick's eyes flicked up and down you again (so easy), before he decided, "Ya can stay."

That brings you to now, sitting with Maggie outside with a can of baked beans and a spoon in your hands.

You currently had quite the view of Rick working on the farm, sweat dripping down his brow, strained arms. You'd never thought about farming in that way, but now you were.

"Is his full name Richard?" You asked, curiously.

Maggie turned to you, watching the trail of your eyes to see what you were looking at. She rolled her eyes, "I don't know."

You put a spoonful into your mouth, humming around it, "There's a reason they call them 'Dick', you know."

"Oh my god," she shoved into you -making you laugh a little. You stared down into your can.

"I'm just saying," you stressed, "-he's hot enough for it."

Maggie paused a second, before deciding to say, "His wife died."

"Shit," your smile fell.

"Died in childbirth," she continued, something distant in her eyes -you wondered what exactly it was.

"How long ago?" You asked gently, looking at him in a new light -sympathizing.

"Few months," she answered, a little shortly. You pursed your lips, debating whether to say anything. Or if you even should.

Maggie clarified, herself, "I delivered the baby. Judith, her name is Judith."

"Fuck, Mags," you fully turned to her, putting the can by your feet, "-I'm so sorry."

She took a deep breath in and out, and you wrapped an arm around her shoulders pushing her into your side, "Thanks."

"No problem," you hummed, picking your can back up and letting your eyes drift to Rick again, adding, "-I'm great with babies, you know."

"You're ridiculous," she laughed, taking the bite you offered her.

"What?" You asked, "-Staring isn't bad. He's practically a piece of art, I'm just..."

He turned to the two of you then, blue eyes flickering along your faces -you did not move your gaze at all.

Instead, you gently waved, finishing, "-admiring him."

Rick furrowed his eyebrows for a second, waving back, and then, shaking his head smiling. Count that as a win.

You gnawed at your lip a second, "Do you think he picked up on my 'hungry' thing? I was looking at him and I-"

Maggie laughed, "He definitely did. Everyone did, Y/N, you're shameless."

"It's the apocalypse," you urged, "-who gives a fuck about shame anymore? Rick is hot, and as long as he lets me, I will flirt with him. The more you resist, the more I commit. You remember James in first period?"

She hummed, "I do."

"I chased him for half a year," you continued, swirling the spoon around the can, "-and it worked, didn't it? Guys hardly get properly flattered," your eyes dipped back to him, tone going low, "-I don't mind taking on that duty for the population."

Maggie laughed again, as you just kept your eyes on him. He had dirt on his hands now, wiping at his brow, and just a few curls hung forward on his forehead. God, how did you find him in the apocalypse?

"How valiant," she deadpanned, "-You're a real hero."

"Look, just because you have a type, Glenn, and you bagged him-"

"How did you-"

"Please," you teased, "-he practically ate you earlier with his eyes. Back to my point, I, at least, get to look."

She turned to you, "Ya don't want to date him?"

"Who said that, Mags?" You smirked, turning to her with a smile with eyes that spoke for themselves.

"You know he has kids, right?" She questioned, looking at you.

"So?" you waved the spoon around in your hand, "-Single dads? Hot. Kids? Cute. Where's the loss?"

Maggie looked at you a moment, before shaking her head, "You are clinically insane."

"Maybe," you offered, still watching him, "-but the world's fucked up too. So, at least, I'm not alone."

She laughed really hard at that one, and you felt eyes all over switch to you. Blue ones too. People didn't really seem to laugh around here, so you decided that was your mission too, get people to laugh more. Maybe they could go hand-in-hand.

Time to get to work.

Daryl was sitting across from you, you'd been bugging him for the past few weeks and he'd finally relented. It wasn't easy, but you were nothing if not persistent (hence the Rick situation). Or maybe stubborn. Both? Whatever.

"Daryl, listen," you pointed out, "-you have to take time to load up the bow."

"'At don't mean nothin'," he countered.

"It does," you stressed, explaining, "-in the amount of time it takes you to put in a new arrow, I would have killed at least two."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "It doesn't take 'at long."

"Who said it takes me long to kill two walkers?"

Rick walked by then, and Daryl stopped him.

"Rick, please, take 'em away from me," he spoke out, gruff, but something in you could tell that he wasn't being serious. The guy wasn't half the mystery you expected him to be.

Rick laughed a little at the plea, eyes on you, "What are ya doin' to him?"

"It's not that bad," you laughed, explaining, "-I was just talking about if we were pit against each other to kill the most walkers in a minute. And who would win."

"An' ya want me to help decide?"

"Daryl does," you clarified, "-I am fully confident in my abilities."

Rick laughed a little (another win), "Well, I kno' Daryl's skills, so tell me yours, so it's even."

You bit at your lip, debating. God, it would be so easy. All you had to do was-

"Well," you smiled, playfully, "-I'm told I'm very good with my hands."

He blinked, and it was silent a moment before you heard a snort beside you. You immediately flung to look at him, you had just made Daryl laugh-

"No way," you stressed out, throwing yourself to your feet -pointing at him, "-you just laughed at me."

Daryl pressed his lips together into a thin line, sniffing once, "No, I didn't."

You spun to Rick, and he was already looking at you, you didn't think about it too much.

"Rick," you begged, "-c'mon. I know you and him are like... buddies, but I-"

"Buddies?" He quirked a brow, smiling. Something stirred in your stomach.

"Look, I don't fucking know," you rolled your eyes, "-just agree with me."

He bit down a smile at you, before turning to Daryl, "Ya did laugh at 'em."

"Ha," you cheered, "-I made Daryl Dixon laugh. And, I would win against you."

"He didn't say 'at," Daryl instantly defended.

"Didn't have to, Dixon," you mocked, playfully, "-it's about time management."

"Time management?" Rick questioned curiously.

"Okay, think of this, Rick," you explained, leveling him with your full focus (god he was handsome), "-when you fight with a bow, or a gun for that matter, you have to reload."

He grinned a little at you.

"Follow me, follow me," you hummed, pulling out your knife, "-when you have a physical sort of attack method, like a knife, you don't have that same time issue."

"Ya kinda do though," he interjected.

You paused, looking at him -thoughtfully, "How so?"

"Body's gotta build up energy again," he reasoned (with too much thought for this dumb conversation, smart too? god has favorites), "-Stamina is key to attackin'."

You rolled your lip in between your teeth, he had to be doing this on purpose at this point. Seriously.

"Trust me, sheriff," you spoke -a teeny bit teasing but otherwise very genuine, "-there is no problem with my stamina."

Rick bit back a laugh, turning his head to the side and smiling. You thought you saw a little red on the tips of his ears. Cute. You were unraveling the layers of one Rick Grimes, that was progress.

Daryl didn't even try to hide it that time, letting a gruff chuckle leave his lips, "'M glad I'm not your focus for 'at."

You patted his shoulder, standing up, "It'll be devastating one day, Robin Hood. Don't come crying to me when it is."

"Did ya just call me Robin Hood?"

Rick laughed at that one, head tilting up to the sky. You smiled wide.

"Look at that," you hummed, proud, "-a two for one. Which-"

They both looked at you, but you stuck to your guns. And you smirked a little.

"-honestly, I would not mind," you added -thoughtfully, "-Think about it, and get back to me."

You walked backward a few steps, watching as Rick smiled at you before turning back to fix his gaze on Daryl. Smiling at the ground, you spun on your heel, and went off to find someone else to pester.

You felt a pair of eyes follow you though, and you maybe grinned a little brighter.

Now, you were wandering off on your own. On your own run, you liked to do that sometimes. Maggie nearly had a heart attack because of it, but what damage you did get was usually minor. Except for once, but that wasn't your fault. Well it was, you smashed a window with your fist to see if you could do it. And you could, which was impressive.

Now, you were strolling through an old novelty store -little knick-knacks. Finding some figurines, you grabbed a superhero one and stashed it away. Your eyes caught on a DVD player, the kind for both music and movies, and you picked it up -turning it over in your hands. Battery powered.

On a mission to find both DVDs and some batteries, you roamed through some aisles -particularly a mug one.

Peeking through at some of them, you paused. Taking your pack off and slipping the DVD player into it (along with the few good DVDs you found, no batteries though) on top of some canned food you'd found, you zipped it up. And with a breath, grabbed a mug.

Smiling big, you made your way out of the store.

When you got back to the prison, Maggie was waiting for you -tapping her feet, anxiously. She was a little like a mother, you weren't sure how you felt about it. But you loved her so, you dealt with it.

"Hey Mags," you cheered, mug handle twisted between your fingers.

She instantly relaxed, eyes scanning you over before dropping to the mug. She frowned.

"Please, tell me-"

"I got some food," you sighed, "-I'm not entirely useless."

She pursed her lips, "And the mug?"

You grinned, holding it up for her to see -tapping your fingers along both sides. Her eyes skimmed over it before she frowned (biting back a smile, you could tell).

"Seriously?" She asked.

"What?" You responded, groaning, "-I can't get gifts?"

She shoved into your side, and before you could take too many steps, you were met with your target -leaning against the fence, few steps from Maggie. Was he waiting for you too?

"Rick," you dropping your hands, particularly to avoid him from reading the text, "-what are you doing here?"

"Ya do 'at a lot?" He asked, a little pointedly. You thought you recognized something a little like worry in it, "-Go off on your own?"

Huh.

"Yeah," you laughed a little, "-you haven't noticed? I've been getting like... half the food we have."

Rick hummed (a little in appreciation) before his eyes dropped to your hands, "And what's 'at?"

"A gift," you extended it to him, unflinchingly.

He pulled himself from his spot on the wall, walking forward and accepting it. His fingers (great fingers, really. Was that weird to say?) wrapping around it, you noticed for a second that your fingers brushed -your breath halted a little in place.

"A mug?" He asked looking at you for a second, eyebrows furrowed.

You took your hand, and spun it around in his hands -brushing his skin against yours, "The other side."

He smiled a little, laughing.

Right there on a rather plain mug, were the words '#1 HOT DAD'.

He bit back a smile, eyes peeking up at you again, "Ya really ain't gonna let 'is go, are ya?"

"Nope," you popped the 'p', before clarifying, "-unless you want me to."

Rick licked a line against his teeth, grinning a little with something in his eye, "Who said 'at?"

"Noted," you smiled back, something fluttering in your chest, "-now, where's Carl? I got him something good."

"Ya got him somethin' too?"

He was looking at you a little curiously, like he was seeing new layers of you. You kind of wanted to squirm a little at his gaze. You were not used to people figuring you out.

You sighed, quickly turning your pack to the front and unzipping it. With a breath, you dug around and pulled out the figurine -Rick's eyes caught on it immediately. A small smile creeping along his mouth.

"He told me once he liked comics," you clarified, clearing your throat, "-figured he would like this. You... You think he will?"

"He'll love it," he answered, something new in his eyes, "-C'mon, I'll take ya to him."

On the way there, he seemed to pause a moment, something on his mind. You patiently waited for him to say it.

"'Saw somethin' else in 'ere," he mindlessly remarked, as the mug swung between his fingers "-What is it?"

"Oh," you pulled your pack foward again, excited, extending the figurine to him for safekeeping (he took it with a smile), "-a DVD player."

You held it in your hands, showing to him.

"Found some DVDs, good ones," you continued, before putting it back in your bag, and accepting the figurine back (your fingers brushed again), "-no batteries though."

Rick hummed, pursing his lips like he was thinking about something. He didn't say a word though.

You didn't have much time to think about it, because a few days after that, the prison fell. You'd escaped with Rick and Carl, but you weren't exactly yourself. Not after everything.

There was Judith, and Maggie, and... and Beth and Hershel. Every day felt like there was bile turning in your stomach; every time you closed your eyes, you saw someone... someone dead.

You were lying against the grass, looking up at the stars -it was still so pretty. Despite it all, the sky was still the same. Bright and twinkly. It was when everyone was on the road, wandering for a place to go. You just couldn't sleep, so you took it upon yourself to just look at the sky. You thought the clouds might be pretty, but the night was a little breathtaking.

"Ya awake?"

You didn't say a word.

"C'mon, Y/N, I know ya are."

"Yeah, I am," you sighed, saying shortly, "-Can't sleep."

There was an echo of footsteps, and then you felt body heat beside you. There was a beat.

"Ya ain't gonna say anythin'?" Rick hummed, turning his head to face you.

You matched his eyes (he's probably more handsome now, honestly), "About what?"

"Me, ya know," he motioned, to your side, "-layin' with ya."

You laughed at him a little, before teasing, "Awe, you miss it, don't you, sheriff?"

"Not a sheriff anymore," he hummed, something a little heavy in his voice.

"Eh," you shrugged, looking back to the stars, "-you still are in my mind."

Rick smiled at you, wordlessly.

Before you added, plainly, "Mostly because I love a man in uniform."

He laughed then, big and bright, and you felt something warm in your chest that you knew but hadn't felt in a while.

You wanted to be genuine, really genuine.

"You are a good man, Rick," you turned to look at him, and he looked straight back, "-We've all done shit we never should've, and maybe it's fucked us up a little bit, moved our path in the wrong direction once or twice, but-"

You looked back up to the sky, still feeling his eyes on you. It was kind of like a dream, like the apocalypse wasn't real for a second, just you and Rick. And maybe you wanted that a lot more than you knew.

"-you've got a big heart, Rick," you finished, soundly, "-And even if sometimes you lose sight of what you're doing, or maybe who you are, that... that doesn't change."

Rick didn't say anything for a moment, words echoing out into the night air. You couldn't find it in yourself to regret them, though. You never really regret what you said these days, there was no reason too.

You really only regret what you didn't say. Maybe to people who aren't around anymore. Your heart sunk a little in your chest, but it felt a little lighter -just a smidgen. (Maybe because of who you were with.)

"I got somethin' for ya," Rick suddenly spoke, sitting up (you followed suit).

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You got me something? When?"

Mindlessly, he replied, "On the last run."

You pursed your lips but waited patiently. He moved over to his pack, unzipping one of his pockets and pulling something out -you couldn't quite see. Trying to peek you moved over a little, but nothing.

With a breath, he stood back up and waltzed over to you (somehow he made walking hot, they needed to research that), extending it forward right into your face.

You blinked, gently taking it into your hands and looking at it closely. It was dark so you couldn't really-

Batteries. He handed you a pack of AA batteries.

"No way," you laughed out, "-you remembered that?"

"I remember a lot of what ya say," he offered casually, and you felt something shoot down your spine. And with a breath, he sat right beside you, so close your knees bumped a little.

Pulling your bag over to you, you dug around in it. You'd kept the DVD player and DVDs, not really with the hope of finding batteries. But, to feel a little human, remember life before.

You'd taken to putting stickers on it when you saw any, so the top of it was covered in an assortment. You ran your fingers over it a second, taking it in, before flipping it over. Popping open the little tab, you let out a breath of relief when it was AAs.

Rick laughed.

"I was going to be so pissed if it wasn't," you spoke, "-you have no idea."

He just looked at you then, in a way you'd seen before but never really thought about. You turned back to your bag, shuffling around to find your stash.

"You want music or a movie?"

"Movie's fine," he hummed, and you still felt his eyes trained solely on you. You tried to shake it off.

"Let's see," you pulled out a few of the movies you had, showing them to Rick, "-I've got... a kid's animated movie, or... a... cheesy romcom!"

Rick stared at you, instead of the movies, before flickering to them.

Rambling, you continued, "I also picked up some horror stuff, but I... I really think that was a bad move on my part."

He laughed again, just looking at you in a way you didn't really know how to label. Or react to. You were kind of a little overwhelmed at the fact that he'd even gotten you the batteries, and then the way he was looking at you-

"Think romcom sounds good," he interrupted your thoughts, scanning over you.

"Alright," you acknowledged, putting the other ones up, and scooting back next to him -not enough to touch. It was a little awkward and you weren't sure how you were going to-

"I don't bite ya know," he quipped, laughing a little.

You turned to him, grinning, "Well maybe I do."

Rick laughed again for a moment, just looking at you. And then he extended out an arm, welcoming you into his side.

You paused a moment, before carefully guiding yourself to slot into him; the back of your head against his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around the back of your shoulders. You brought your knees up, to carefully balance the DVD player (shaped like a little laptop really). A tiny little screen for the two of you to see on. Logistically, that's why you were so close but a part of you thought a little otherwise.

"I don't," you hummed.

"What?"

"I don't bite."

He laughed a little, "Good."

"Unless you want me to-"

And the laughter that filled the night was just between you and him. And maybe in the morning, you were fast asleep on his shoulder and maybe he looked at you a little like you were the greatest thing he'd ever seen and maybe he shushed all the others just to have the moment last even a second longer.

You'd never really know.

Now, you were in Alexandria. You'd gotten Maggie back, you'd gotten Judith back. You were on a new high, and that meant two things. More pestering, and two, flirting with Rick.

You were walking through Alexandria with Maggie, just keeping her on her feet really. She wasn't super pregnant yet, and it was good to be healthy.

"I cannot believe you're pregnant," you mindlessly remarked, holding Judith close to your side.

"I have been," she retorted, "-for a while. Think ya have had time to digest it."

"But, it's like physical proof that you fucked," you commented, "-unprotected, by the way. I know you missed that sex-ed day, but seriously-"

"Carl's proof that Rick fucked," Maggie defended, eyes smoothing over him with a few of his friends.

"Well," you pursed your lips, "-I know that Rick fucked. Just on principle, he's-"

She motioned for you to zip it, "Don't start. I know you are doin' good, which is great. But it also means ya become a lil' unbearable."

"Me? Unbearable?" You turned to Judith, cooing a little, "-Can you believe the nerve of her, Jude?"

Judith smiled at you with her big brown eyes and toothless little mouth. You pinched her cheek, instinctively, "So cute."

"I still can't believe that you're in love with Ri-"

"I told you that in confidence," you interrupted, pointed.

Maggie stuck out her tongue at you and Judith laughed a little at it. Funny faces, right. You could physically see the pregnancy hormones on her face as she cooed at Judith.

You would've said something, but you had just done it yourself.

"Where's your keeper anyway?" You hummed like you'd been stuck with her (you actively searched her out).

"'E's not my keeper," she responded, sternly (mom voice, already?), "-and he's out on run, gettin' supplies."

"If he's not your keeper, how'd you know who I was talking about?"

"You are so-"

Before she could finish such a kind sentence, the two of you were interrupted. A presence waltzing up to your side.

You turned to look who, and-

Your heart lept into your throat. It was Rick, now clean-shaven, and although, you had loved the beard (don't even get you started), his jaw was on full display. Blue, blue eyes. And dipping to his clothes, he was in a damn uniform.

"Look at you, Rick," you complimented, smiling.

"'Heard ya liked a man in uniform," he smiled (a new type of way), and winked. And before you could say a word, he walked forward -past you.

You stuttered to a stop, Maggie right beside you. Blinking you turned to her, and she looked right back at you. And then you both turned to look at Rick, still walking the same way he was.

Turning back forward, you opened your mouth, "Sorry, did that just happen?"

Maggie hummed, pulling you with her, "It did."

"How did I never think of that?"

"Think of what?" She offered, as you smoothed back into a step with her.

You answered, eyebrows furrowing, "That he might flirt back."

She shrugged, "If it helps, I never thought he would."

"I am not against shoving a pregnant woman," you hissed back, with no bite. You never really had any. And you both broke into laughter, as you roamed through Alexandria.

Now, Daryl was leaning against a house as you stood beside him -pestering as always.

"No, listen," you turned to him, attentively, "-it's called fuck, marry, kill-"

"I ain't playing it with ya."

"C'mon, Daryl, it's fun, look-" you flagged down Glenn (who was carrying a box, of what, who knows?), "-Glenn, fuck, marry, kill. Michonne, Carol, and Daryl."

"Easy," he laughed, "-fuck Michonne, marry Carol, and sorry, dude, but kill Daryl."

"See?" You motioned to Glenn, as he walked forward.

"Don't ya 'ave a wife?" Daryl remarked, as Glenn moved along.

"Oh please," you shook your hand dismissively, "-it's all just fun. Just hypothetical scenarios."

"Okay, now," you started over, "-fuck, marry, kill. Deanna-"

"Kill," he answered -unflinchingly.

"See!" you cheered, "-you're getting the hang of it-"

"What are the two of ya doin'?"

You turned to see the one and only Rick Grimes, a little more worn today, which you kind of preferred, still had those bandaids on (how did he make that look hot?), and more casually dressed. In the white t-shirt, we trust.

"I'm teaching Daryl how to play fuck, marry, kill," you answered, eyes solid on him, "-obviously."

Before he could respond, Daryl chimed up, something mischievous in his eyes. You squinted at him, trying to figure it out. And then he opened his mouth.

"I got one," he spoke, a smile teasing on his lips (looking at Rick, directly), "-Y/N, Glenn, and Rosita."

You stared at the eye contact for a moment (everything was so suspicious), before asking, "What am I supposed to do with myself?"

Daryl shrugged, you bit your lip a second.

"I guess I could kill myself, big waste, but-" you paused, "-ooh, wait, I could, like, clone situation fuck myself-"

"Now, 'at would be a sight to see," a low southern drawl interrupted your words, and your voice faltered to a stop.

You turned to him, squinting at him for a second -trying to understand. All he did was wink at you again, and you hated that it made your knees a little wobbly. Especially when he was holding onto the column of the porch, and slightly leaning toward you-

"Before I was so rudely interrupted," you cleared your throat, "-I would marry Glenn, fuck Rosita, and, tragically, kill myself."

Daryl nodded his head, before motioning to Rick, "What 'bout ya?"

"Am I playin'?" He questioned, finger pointing to himself and eyes dashing to you.

"Might as well," you shrugged, "-you're already over here."

He pursed his lips a second like he was thinking, eyes particularly avoiding you, "An' I can't choose one person for two of 'em?"

You swallowed, oh, he was playing dirty.

"Nope," Daryl answered.

And then, he turned into something much softer, something more familiar, "Then, marry Y/N, fuck Rosita, and kill Glenn."

Marry?

Your heart lept into your throat, and your fingers started fidgeting with your shirt -instinctively. How the hell was he winning? I started this game-

"Thought so," Daryl responded.

And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carol. Her eyes matched yours a second, and you tried to convey how desperate you were to get away from this very scene. Her eyebrows furrowed for a second, but then she spoke.

"Hey, Y/N! Can you come help me with the food?"

"Of course, Carol," you called back, smiling at the two of them, "-sorry, duty calls."

Rick just grinned at you then, like he knew exactly what you were doing. And you were 100% sure he did. Stupid handsome men with stupidly beautiful blue eyes. Ignoring the fact that you physically brushed against him to get off the porch, you frantically caught up to Carol.

You were in the pantry now, gathering ingredients, Carol directing you -naming them as she found them.

"So," she looked at you, "-are you gonna tell me what that was about?"

You pursed your lips, before answering, "Rick's flirting back with me."

Carol raised her eyebrows at you, "Huh."

"And I was teaching Daryl how to play fuck, marry, kill, and he-" you rapted your fingernails along one of the cans, "-and he said he'd marry me. But all... genuine and shit."

"And that's bad?"

"No, no," you shook your head, putting the can into a basket, "-It's not bad. Just... I don't know if he means it."

"You just said that he said it genuinely," Carol pointed out, grabbing another can.

"Well yeah, but-" you scrambled a moment, "-all that time ago, I was flirting genuinely. I mean even though it was playful, it was still genuine."

"And," she connected the dots, "-you're not sure if he's genuine?"

"Yeah," you skimmed along the shelves, gathering the last can she needed.

"Well," she took it from your hand, blue eyes on you softly, "-if it's worth anything, I think he's genuine. And maybe this is his way of showing how he feels about you."

You hummed, wordlessly.

"He's let you flirt with him this long," she continued, bringing a hand up to your shoulder, "-that has to mean something, doesn’t it?"

She had a point.

"Now," she adjusted the basket, "-are you actually going to help me with the food? Or was it just an excuse to run away from Rick?"

You laughed, "I'll help, I'll help. I'm not a total dick. Speaking of-"

She turned to you.

"Do you know if Rick's full name is Richard?"

It was a few weeks later, and they were filled with frustratingly blue winks. And that was one thing, but now you were being stupid. You were stupid.

You'd thought Oh, it'll be just like old times, I'll go out on a run. It'll be so nice-

And now you were walking with a gunshot would, quickly bandaged by a rip of your t-shirt and whatever you had around you. Which in whatever the hell store it was, was not a lot. All you'd managed to find was alcohol so you at least soaked the shirt.

You'd blearily walked all the way home, eyes foggy, and praying that a walker wouldn't come near you. And now you saw it, Alexandria.

"Gabriel," you called, breathlessly, "-Gabriel, please let me in."

You heard him say something but you were delirious. Maybe something with your name? Head fuzzy and eyes bleary, you were coming down from the high of getting somewhere safe. As you waltzed into Alexandria (pain in the abdomen so hot it almost felt numbing), there was a swarm of people around you immediately. Felt like you were back in the prison, when Maggie would be waiting and you think she was now.

"Hey, hey," she chanted, grabbing your face (and you could see her now), "-look at me, Y/N, tell me what the hell happened."

"Some guy, the bitch," you muttered out, a little slurred you think, "-just shot me, because he wanted the last of the damn Campbell soup, who shoots someone for Campbell soup?"

Her eyes dropped to your body, you mindlessly noted that it was sticky. Your eyes dropped too, and saw all the red -so much red.

"I think I lost a lot of blood, Mags."

"Somebody go get Rick, and the doctor, now," she shouted (loud, loud), before turning back to you, "-How the hell did you get here?"

"I walked," you answered simply.

"You walked?" She responded, hands on your shoulders, "-How did you-"

You were safe now, and everything in your body just gave out.

"Adrenaline is a hell of a drug," you hummed, laughing a little, before falling to the ground.

Your head stung from the ground, as Maggie tried to get down by your side -all pregnant belly.

"'S okay, Mags, don't-" you mumbled "-don't hurt yourself."

She frowned, and you thought she might have tears in her eyes, "I have to stay with you, Y/N, whose going to keep you awake-"

"Glenn," you called, and you saw him saunter up to your side, a little slurred, "-take care of 'er, help her sit. Don't worry, Mags, don't worry-"

You heard a slap of footsteps then, quick and brisk, and before you could wonder who, blue eyes and rough hands were guiding your face. He was starting to grow his stubble back, you mindlessly noted.

"Rick," you smiled a little fuzzily, reaching up and patting his face, "-See Mags, Rick'll take care of me."

"Hey, hey," he brought your focus to him, "-keep lookin' at me, okay?"

"Well," you slurred a little, "-'at's not very hard, sheriff."

He turned to the crowd then, voice low and gruff, "What the hell happened?"

You heard Maggie respond then, through sobs, "'Ey said that some guy shot 'em, over a... over some food."

"Didn't even ask if he could have 'em, first. Who does that-"

"Daryl," he motioned -tone low, and he immediately nodded. You watched him leave your eyesight.

Rick instead, brought your face back to him, as you recognized the doctor to be by your side, scrambling with some white stuff.

"Hey, hey, baby," he spoke, low in a whisper, "-I'm 'ere, focus on me. Look at me."

You smiled again, delirious, "You called me baby, that feels nice. Everythin' else burns-"

"I kno', I kno'," he soothed, you felt pressure on your abdomen (hissing in pain, as your eyes got more blurry), "-ya did a good job gettin' back 'ere. To where you're safe. Ya did a good job."

"Just kept walking," you slurred, "-couldn't stop. Wasn't gonna die to some asshole."

Rick laughed then a little, and you felt something a little different than pain. Your hands naturally came to his face, mindlessly rubbing your thumbs against his cheekbones. He's always been so handsome, only gets better with time.

You noticed he leaned into it a little, careful not to hurt you. Yeah, you realized, he was genuine.

God, what if you had missed out on this, with Rick? All because of some stupid can of soup-

"Rick," you started, and he looked at you a little like you held the world, you were the world maybe, "-I think I'm gonna die."

"You're not, no-" he held his hand over yours (it was so warm. Why had you never held his hand?), "-You're not gonna die, baby. You're gonna be fine."

"I'm bleeding," you breathed out, scanning over him, "-Been bleeding the whole time. You're not supposed to bleed that much, Rick."

"Ya ain't gonna die," he repeated, hands gathering your face, "-Look at me, ya ain't dyin'."

Concern clear on his face, you felt the urge to soothe, soothe, soothe-

You looked at him, eyes scanning over his face. He was handsome, yeah, but he was caring, smart, and so, so kind. You wanted to tell him that, see what he'd say. What he'd do.

"'Said that you were a good man, 'at you have a big heart," you hummed, eyes languidly blinking, "-still mean it. Don't you forget it."

He looked at you for a second, eyes flicking all over your face, before looking to the doctor. She must've said something (your ears felt stuffy) because then Rick was picking you up. He was everywhere, smell, sight. All you could feel was Rick, body heat thrumming and blooming into your side.

"Always knew you were strong," you mindlessly remarked.

You felt Rick laugh in his chest, and your eyelids were so heavy then. You slowly began blinking, your brain slowing down. Maybe you could close your eyes just for a little bit.

"Got so much to say to ya."

And then, it all faded to black.

This blanket is scratchy as hell, you mindlessly remarked. It was almost like a thin sheet, barely coating you, and you think if you moved your arms, it would make that noise that shitty bedsheets did. Why were hospital beds so bad? Shouldn't they be comfortable?

And then your nose was hit with the heavy sterilized air. You scrunched your nose up on instinct, it made your throat burn-

"Y/N? Darlin'?"

You slowly blinked your eyes open, heavy and languid; they always had those florescent lights too. How was that helpful?

"'S too fucking bright in here."

You heard him laugh a little, maybe in relief mostly, and you blearily blinked to get a look at him.

"'D turn it down for ya if I could."

You laughed a little and squinted your eyes open, laying gently on him. He looked a little worse for wear, his hair messy and shirt a little crooked. You wanted to fix his curls back in place, and your hand moved before you could stop it.

Gently, you threaded his hair back. He was a breath away from where you laid, so it wasn't too far of a reach.

Rick looked at you so softly, that the words cut off your from your lips. And with a breath, he pulled your hand down from his hair, sliding it against his cheek. Before you could say a word about it, he turned his head and gently kissed your palm.

You bit at your lip, eyes flickering over him, "How long have you been here?"

"Since the doc' allowed me to be," he answered, fidgeting with your hand -not really wanting to let go, you guessed.

"And Mags?" You asked, concern flickering through your eyes, "-Are she and the baby okay?"

"Yeah," he looked at you, a little in disbelief, "-they're alright. She was stressed, yeah, but Glenn kept 'er calm."

"And," your eyes darted to your abdomen, where your wound now hid, "-the wound?"

"Good," he replied, eyes swimming over you like he couldn't quite believe you were okay, "-Doc' says ya just need to rest, not irritate the stitches. Which I kno' will be hard for ya."

You sighed, leaning your head back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling, "I am going to be so bored."

Rick chuckled a little, before falling suspiciously quiet. You turned to him, just to see him looking down and fidgeting with your hand -a little like he was working on saying something. You simply waited.

"'Ve been looking for those batteries since ya said ya wanted 'em," he spoke, a little quietly.

You froze, "Since the prison?"

"Yeah," he offered, "-apparently 'ey're a hot commodity."

"Why?" You questioned, looking at him curiously, "-Why all that work for some batteries?"

"Because," he hummed simply, eyes matching yours now, "-ya wanted 'em."

You pushed your lips into a thin line, the glimmer of hope sparking in your chest. Not saying a word, you just stared at him for a second; not unlike in the early days, you were just admiring him for a lot more than his (still unbelievably handsome) face.

"Y/N, I-" he started, eyes dipping back down to your hands. He seemed to pause a moment, debating.

And then he looked up at you, eyes set in his path -unflinchingly. In a sort of understanding, like everything made sense to him now. The silence was heavy until he leaned forward and brushed his hand along your cheek -carefully. It made you feel precious, and your eyes maybe got a little cloudy because of it.

"I'm in love with ya," he let out a breath, tone heavy and genuine, "-an... and the way ya blatantly hit on me but in the damn most genuine type of way."

You laughed a little and leaned gently into his palm. He looked at you in a way you couldn't label then, or maybe you could (love), and rubbed his thumb along your cheekbone.

"I didn't know how to react to it, at first," he hummed, something settled in his eyes, "-the attention ya gave me. 'S somethin' I've never dealt with before."

"Really?" You let slip past your lips, and his grin grew wide as he let his head fall and shook it, smiling at the ground.

"Even now," he laughed a little, turning his gaze up again, "-ya always said thin's like it was so easy to do. Like ya were tellin' me 'at the sun was hot."

"You did give me some pretty good set ups," you clarified, smiling at him.

"'Never meant to," he added, grinning a little in wonder, "-I couldn't think straight when ya said 'em, so I'm surprised I even did."

You hummed, eyes twinkling at him and he looked at you just a little more like he was in love. It made a spark shoot down to your toes, warmth flooding your chest.

"If it's worth anything," you spoke, a little embarrassed, "-my brain stops working when you do the fond thing."

"The fond thing?"

"It's just," you sighed, trying to articulate, "-It's a way that you look at me, or... or smile at me. When you do the soft stuff."

"What exactly is-" he hummed, gently, holding your attention like your words really mattered, "-'the soft stuff'?"

"Uh," you blew a raspberry with your lips, "-like giving me the batteries, and... and that whole conversation actually."

"Oh," he laughed a little, blue eyes twinkling, "-like I was in love with ya."

"What? No, you weren't... not that early-"

And then you looked at him.

"Shit," you marveled, "-really?"

"Like I said," he smiled at you, a little like you were cute, "-I looked for those batteries for months. For ya. An'-"

His face got a little more serious.

"-I really missed ya. 'At was probably when I first realized it."

You rolled your lip inbetween your teeth, "Yeah?"

"Ya used to make everybody laugh, and were always smilin'-" he explained, "-it wasn't even just the flirtin', it was just... I knew ya were hurtin', an' I couldn't help. Or I... I didn't know what to do to help."

You just stared.

"An' I missed ya so desperately, I just-" he let out a breath, "-It all clicked into place, and I went on 'at run, hopin' to god there were batteries-"

You laughed a little weepily, leaning into his hand.

"-because I just wanted to make ya feel better. Bring ya back to me."

"How the hell did you even find them?" You questioned, wiping at your eyes, "-It couldn't have been that lucky."

"'Wasn't," he replied simply, "-I was only supposed to do a few stores, I did the whole strip."

"God, really?" You smiled, "-For batteries?"

"No," he hummed, simply, "-for ya."

You fell quiet.

"I would do anythin' for ya," he added, voice a little breathless, "-anythin'."

"Anything?"

Rick laughed a little, grin bright, "Ya need to rest, baby."

"That's not a no," you chimed, grinning.

He looked at you a certain type of way then, "'S definitely not a no."

You felt your heart pound in your chest for a moment. That was something to look forward to. Something stirred in your stomach.

"What?" He asked, teasing, "-Ya all bark and no bite, hmm?"

"If I wasn't bedridden," you spoke flatly, "-I would kick your ass."

"Ya would," he agreed.

And you laughed, eyes smoothing over his face. Before noticing something you hadn't quite said yet.

Words fell out of your lips, "Even though you probably already know, because I've chasing you all this time-"

He smiled at you.

"-I love you too," you finished, "-if it wasn't obvious."

"'Was kinda obvious," he leveled -teasing, but something was sparkling so bright in his eyes that you didn't really mind.

"Yeah, yeah," you moved your hand dismissively, "-don't start, sheriff."

You paused for a moment, eyes dancing along the room, "Do I get to go home today?"

"No," he spoke, with a certainty that shook through your bones (this man had literally everything), "-'Need to be taken care of, so ya are stayin' wit' me until you're healed."

You blinked at him, he was doing the fond thing again. Your mind relaxed to a low hum.

"Maybe after too," he added, tone softer but not any less certain, "-if ya want."

You stared at him, wordless.

Rick blinked, looking at you, before grinning, "'At the fond thing?"

"Yeah," you cleared your throat, embarrassed, "-I don't... It's been a long time since I've been cared for. At all. And you're a very handsome man offering to-"

"Not offerin'," he clarified, eyes set on yours, "-just doin'. 'Specially now, 'cause I kno' ya love me too."

All headstrong, decisive, and certain. How was this happening to you?

"'Thought you said it was obvious?"

"It was," he hummed, grinning at you, "-I could just barely wrap my head around ya flirtin' with me. Couldn't really see it."

You thought for a second, before speaking, "Was it Daryl?"

He grinned at you, tilting his head a little, "Maybe."

"Always knew he was a big softie," you hummed, "-read him like a book when we first met. Stone layers to an ooey-gooey center."

Rick scrunched up his nose, "Ooey-gooey center?"

"Sometimes," you sighed, "-Sometimes I say stupid shit around really attractive people. It's a habit."

"'Guess 'at means you're still gonna be flirting with me?"

"As long as you want me to, sheriff," you clarified.

"So maybe forever then," he grinned and you felt your heart leap into your chest (fuck his fond things). You were totally never getting over that.

"Yeah," you hummed in agreement, "-Maybe forever then."

Mission accomplished.

[anatay004]

ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part five)

ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ

"MORE THAN HALF THE TRIBUTES WANT YOU AS THEIR ALLIES."

Mags announced a few days later when you and Finnick were sitting across from her in the living room. The tension in the atmosphere was suffocating, tethered to the interaction you'd had with Peeta in the training center a few days ago. You'd never seen Finnick so annoyed about something before, the brief interaction had been nothing but innocent — yet, it had Finnick grappling for something to say, spitting over remarks, and dismissing your presence in blatant resentment for the last few days.

It annoyed you, but you should've seen it coming, you supposed. Just when you'd thought that things had finally elucidated between the two of you — just when you'd thought things were starting to heal again, he'd taken three steps back. Just like he'd done the first time he'd broken things off with you back at home.

"They saw her in the simulator room." Finnick's voice broke into your reverie, but you didn't bother to look at him. You knew what he was referring to; you'd overshadowed Katniss again, but this time you'd done it in the training center.

When she'd stepped inside one of the simulator rooms to practice her archery and had formed a crowd outside her windows. You'd felt slightly threatened then if you were being honest, but Johanna had been quick to advise you. "Opaque her little show" she'd whispered into your ear and, despite you knowing better, you fell into her instigation and walked over to the rack where the tridents hung. You'd never been a fan of violence, but you were good with weapons. Your ability to swing the trident and aim for the heart had been acquired through fishing and watching Finnick practice for many hours back at home.

So, it was no surprise when you stepped inside the simulator room and astutely swung at the targets without missing a single one.

"Well, whatever the case was, you both are doing better than anyone else," Your stylist, Dean, congratulated from across the room. "So, now, you have your pick of the letter."

"We'll have Johanna." Finnick declared, and you nodded in silent agreement.

"Anyone else?" Mags signaled with her hands.

You chewed on the inside of your cheeks pensively. You tried hard to ignore the alliance that Peeta had established with you a few days ago. He'd labeled you as his friend and, you supposed, he wasn't so far off considering the past interactions you'd both shared. But you didn't dare to blurt that out into the open air, afraid that you might just ignite a fight or two with Finnick Odair.

So, instead, you decided to ask. "What about Beeta and Wires?"

Finnick pinched the bridge of his nose, in evident disapproval, but you ignored his gesture and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Anyone else?" Dean repeated, after taking note of your preferences.

"Katniss," Finnick added nonchalantly, and you couldn't help, but turn to glare at him. He pretended not to notice, but the faint grin that tugged at his lips stated otherwise.

"You have to be kidding me," You spat through your teeth, and Finnick feigned an innocent look on his face when he turned to you. "You do realize we were dragged into this mess to compete against them — not with them."

"Oh, yeah?" He quipped, narrowing his eyes at you. "Because it doesn't seem that way when you're drooling over Peeta, honey."

"I do not." You argued, growing frustrated.

"Then why are you always looking at him?"

You didn't reply for a moment. Finnick was right — these past few days, you'd found yourself looking at Peeta a lot more, but it wasn't in the way Finnick thought it was. You wanted to decipher Peeta Mellark, his gentleness and his persistence to approach you were conflicting to you. You weren't used to receiving such kindness, especially from other Victors, hence the reason you often found yourself looking at him. You wanted to break down him into pieces; just to make sense of him.

"He's kind to me," You eventually replied, to which Finnick only rolled his eyes. "You could learn something from him."

With a visible tick in his jaw, Finnick turned to face you again and you knew you'd hit a nail when his eyes darkened. "Oh?"

You pretended not to hear him.

"Okay, this — " Dean suddenly interjected, signaling you and Finnick back and forth with his finger. " — needs to stop before tonight's interview. I cannot have you both acting this way."

There was a moment of silence.

Dean signed audibly before offering you both a faint smile. "Besides, it is your wedding day."

Your muscles immediately froze at his words. And, for a moment, you could've sworn you heard the loud thumping of your heart against your chest. "What?" You managed to blurt out.

"Your wedding day," Dean repeated as though as if it were the most obvious thing before his face dropped when he saw the startled expression on both of your faces."Oh, you didn't know?"

Instinctively, you turned to face Finnick, but his expression reflected the same as yours — shocked. His eyebrows were pulled together, his gaze hard and calculating; as if he was almost trying to make sense of what Dean was saying.

"What are you talking about?" Finnick eventually questioned, and you almost winced at the hoarse sound of his voice.

"Snow will have someone come up to marry you in a few hours. He said you both had agreed to it." Dean explained, with an almost apologetic smile on his face. Instinctively, you turned to look at Mags for a little consolation, but she only dropped her gaze.

This was not part of the deal.

Snow'd never mentioned this in the agreement, but then again, you weren't surprised — he was President Snow, after all. And it made sense, you supposed, you were trying to one-up the lovers from District Twelve, and, since their wedding had to be canceled; it made sense for Snow to want you both to steal that advantage from them. Besides, you'd always assumed you would marry Finnick at some point in your life.

You just kind of wished it would've happened under other circumstances.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Finnick cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Do we even have a say in this?"

"I'm afraid not." Dean shook his head.

"Shit." Finnick hissed, pushing himself off the couch. You watched as he paced back and forth around the room for a while, and you couldn't help, but feel slightly conflicted with his reaction. It forced a feeling of uneasiness to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. You knew Finnick's love for you was complicated and sometimes even fleeting, but this reaction had your head spinning — perhaps, you'd read something wrong.

"Is it so bad?" The words slipped out your mouth mindlessly, and the room grew immediately quiet at the mere sound of your voice. It was low yet vehement, it underlined the thinly veiled pain that settled over your features.

Is it so bad to marry me?

Stupidly, you were hoping for his assurance. For a word that could have quenched down the feeling of rejection that burrowed beneath your chest. But, instead, Finnick's silence answered you — it was deafening, and it forced a lump to form in your throat. He doesn't want to marry me, you thought to yourself. And the thought alone was enough to force you off the couch and back into your room.

"(Y/N), honey, don't — " Dean started, but his words froze on the tip of his tongue when you shut the door behind you with a loud thud.

"I look like a slut." You complained when you stepped out of the fitting room later that day and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing a mesmerizing dress — there was no doubt about that, but the liquid organza fabric that draped over your skin was barely visible (except for your undergarments) which left more than enough room for the imagination.

"Honey, that's the point," Dean replied, brushing a few strands of straight hair away from your face."Besides, you look stunning. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen before."

Subconsciously, your gaze dropped to stare at your left hand, where a beautiful ring rested over one of your fingers. You swallowed hard at the reminder that you were now married. Even if it'd taken everything in Finnick to sign the damn paper, even if he'd hesitated in slipping the ring on your finger — even if it wasn't real.

"I know this isn't the best timing," Dean suddenly reminded you, placing his hands over your shoulders in silent comfort. "But I want you to forget about everything tonight, okay? You need to forget about everything, darling. Remember why we're here for..."

You took a deep breath.

Remember why we're here for.

"You will talk about your wedding," Dean instructed you, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "You will talk about how deeply in love you're with Finnick Odair. You will talk about your ring and your future with him."

Your head was spinning again.

"Okay." You nodded before you were swiftly beckoned backstage. The room was dark and filled with most of the tributes, they were all lined up and waiting for Caesar Flickerman to interview them — and the mere sight of them made you sick to the stomach.

You'd been here before; in a different time and with different people, but the sight pained you all the same. It brought back memories that you'd hoped to diminish, to incarcerate in the back of your head and never set free. As much as you pretended to be okay with everything going around you, you knew that, deep down inside your chest, you were far from being fine.

And, somehow, Finnick did too.

"You okay?" Finnick whispered behind you, and your muscles tensed when his warm breath pressed against the skin of your neck.

"I'm fine," You limited yourself to answer.

But he wasn't convinced.

And, without a warning, he slid a comforting arm around your waist and traced arbitrarily patterns over the fabric of your dress with his thumb. You should've pushed him away, retaliated, and escaped his cursing touch, but you didn't. Instead, you subconsciously leaned against him — because it was the only way your heart wasn't hammering against your chest.

"Finnick Odair"

"Stay calm," Finnick encouraged, before pressing a fleeting kiss to the side of your head when he was instructed to stand by. "I'll be back soon."

You exhaled shakily, hating the way his lips pressed against your skin so nonchalantly. As if he hadn't just made it clear he didn't want you.

Remember why we're here for.

With a feigned smile on your face, you straightened your frame and nauseously waited for the curtains to part open.

Remember why we're here for.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for Finnick Odair."

You watched as Finnick stepped on stage.

It never failed to amaze you how well Finnick masked his emotions under the limelight, and how fast he was able to shift from his normal demeanor to a hypnotizing one. He was unrecognizable, flashing his perfect teeth to the crowd and sweet-talking his way into their attention — as if he was happy to be there. You envied how good he could fake it.

"So, Finnick..." Caesar started, once the audience had settled down. "You are a married man now if I'm not mistaken. You're married to our beautiful — our darling, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"

"(Y/N) Odair," Finnick corrected, and Caesar let out an amusing laugh.

"I love it!" Caesar cheered and turned to face the crowd across from him. "Don't you love it?"

The crowd cheered. "Okay, now, Finnick, tell us, do you have any more plans that we might like to be aware of? So, we are not taken aback like we were with your wedding."

"Well — " Finnick's voice suddenly dropped, and the crowd went silent. Subconsciously, you held back your breath as you waited for his answer, confused. "We were trying for a baby."

You blinked.

Once. Twice. Three times.

"Oh, my god!" Caesar gasped, and the audience quickly copied his reaction. "This is exciting news, everybody! Finnick Odair and (Y/N) Odair — I love that she changed her name, by the way — are trying for a baby. How wonderful!"

The crowd cheered.

"If we win the games," Finnick clarified, a smile stretched across his face. It almost scared you, how convincing he could look. How easily you could've fallen for his lies if you didn't know any better. "We'll have a baby on our way."

Your mouth fell agape.

For a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Finnick was promising a baby — a fucking baby, to the people of Panem. Your head reeled with the sudden possibility of that happening. If you were to win the games, what would you even do? Would you continue with this farce of a marriage? Go home and carry his child? And endure his resentment?

Was he even okay with that?

What the hell was he thinking?

"By the look on your face, you don't seem too content with this news spreading around," Peeta suddenly whispered, and you instinctively flinched at the unexpected sound of his voice.

"Are you really trying to have a baby?"

"I — " You started, but the faint smirk that itched his lips made you pause. He was teasing you, you realized, but, at the moment, it seemed as if everyone in the room was suddenly looking at you. So, you decided to continue with the lie. " — We are. In fact, I could be pregnant."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Really?

Your shoulders tensed. "Ern — yeah."

"You don't say."

You chewed on the inside of your cheeks. "Yeah."

"Well, why aren't you?" Peeta questioned, and you nibbled your bottom lip as you tried to come up with something to say. But Peeta was making it hard for you to concentrate, especially when he was looking at you as if he'd finally decipher you.

As if he'd suddenly understood something.

"That's none of your business." You argued, trying to hide the hesitation in your words.

"Maybe," Peeta continued, but there was a subtle change in his tone when he spoke again. "But...if you plan to win the games through a pregnancy and your husband can't seem to get the job done — " He paused, dropping his gaze down to look at the ring on your finger. "— well, I guess, you know where to find me."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were stunned, frozen in place when his words registered inside your brain. For a moment, you simply stared at him with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look on your face.

"Cause' we're friends, right?" Peeta quipped, and your cheeks ridiculously burned.

"Give it up for Finnick Odair, everyone!"

You opened your mouth to say something — anything, but the words quickly died inside your mouth. For the first time in a while, you were lost for words. And, soon after, your name was being called and you were instructed to stand by.

All while Peeta grinned at you.

"You should've told me about the baby."

Was the first thing that came out of your mouth when the elevator's doors shut closed. To your surprise, there was no one else inside, but Finnick and you. He was irked, it was more than evident, that his plan to up-one the lovers from District Twelve had gone awry after Peeta had decided to blurt out that Katniss was supposedly pregnant in front of the entire audience during his interview.

Which, you found quite hypocritical, due to reasons you could not tell Finnick about.

Finnick audibly sighed. "I know."

"I would've come up with a much better story," You continued, leaning against the glass tiredly. It was unfair, you thought to yourself, the whole situation in which the two of you were tethered to. One wrong move and Snow's promise to keep you both alive could shatter within seconds. "We should've said I was already pregnant." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but Finnick's head turned towards your direction at that.

"Would you have gotten pregnant?" Finnick questioned, with a general air of curiosity in his voice and you froze. "If Snow had wanted us to?"

You didn't say anything for a few seconds.

Instead, you thought about that alternative; you thought about how miserable Finnick's life would've turned out if having a baby was the necessary case. You thought about what he'd first said when he'd broke things off with you a few months ago. You thought about how hard it was for him to sign the marriage papers. You thought about how much he didn't want to be with you.

"No." You eventually answered, and you could've sworn you saw him wince at the even sound of your voice. "I wouldn't have allowed that to haunt you. A marriage was more than enough."

And then the doors parted and you stepped out of the elevator without another word. But, before you could even reach your room and lock yourself away, his hand latched onto your wrist and you were pulled back without a warning.

"What do you mean by that?" Finnick narrowed his eyes when you turned back to face him.

You withdrew your wrist from his touch. "You know exactly what I mean, Finnick."

"What?" Finnick's eyes darkened as he slowly processed your words. The intensity in his gaze made you swallow hard, but you refused to look away from him — you didn't want to, somehow, you thought it would make you smaller. "You think a child with you would haunt me? You think marrying you torments me?"

Your lips can't help but twitch in slight amusement. "We both know it does."

Finnick looked taken aback and, for a few seconds, you both stared at each other in silence.

"I don't blame you," You eventually continued, trying to quench down the tension in the room. "I know it's complicated for you to have to act like you still love me. And...I know you didn't want to marry me, I suppose you're in the right. And — God, I know you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, but — "

"— what the hell are you talking about?" Finnick interjected as his voice raised a few decibels. "(Y/N), what the actual fuck are you talking about?"

You knew his oblivion shouldn't have riled you up. You knew his cluelessness shouldn't have made your blood boil. But, you couldn't help it because he had to be playing dumb, right? How else could you have possibly interpreted his actions?

"Stop acting like I'm crazy, Finnick!" You spat through your teeth, feeling your face heat up.

"You're not, baby!" Finnick argued, trying to stifle the humorless smile on his face from stretching. "But you're not making any sense."

"I'm not making sense?" You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're the one who's driving me crazy, Finnick. And I'm so fucking tired of trying to decipher you."

He blinked, trying to grasp your words. But the mere expression of confusion on his face stated that he was, in fact, oblivious.

"One day you're making love to me and the next you're pretending nothing ever happened," You explained, exhaling shakily. "One day you're saying that you love me and the next you're acting like marrying me is the worse fucking thing in the world. But two hours later, you're telling Panem that you can't wait to have a child with me. That if we win the games, we'll have children of our own."

Your words stung and forced your eyes to gloss with unshed tears, but you refused to let them spill. You didn't want to cry in front of him. "And I'm exhausted," You added in a whisper. "I don't know what to think anymore. Because what happens if, by some miracle, we do win the games, Finnick? What happens then?"

Your question made him swallow.

"What happens if we do come back and Snow wants us to have a child?" You challenged, taking a deliberate step towards him. "Would you think of our family as something silly? Would the thought alone make you want to let me go again?" His eyes narrowed as he remembered what he'd said to you in an argument a few days ago. "Or would you refuse to have a kid at the very last minute? Pretend like it's the worst fucking thing in the world too?"

Finnick opened his mouth to reply, but then something slipped out your mouth subconsciously and the whole room grew dangerously quiet. "Or would I have to seek someone else to do me the favor? Just so Snow could spare our fucking lives while you try to figure out if you want me or not in your life."

You knew you'd hit a nail before the last words even escaped your mouth. Finnick stared at you — hard as if he was almost trying to figure out whether you'd been serious or not. But when you didn't open your mouth to elaborate any further, his shoulders slumped in disbelief.

"You wouldn't." He paused, dragging a lengthy sigh out as he examined you carefully.

"It would surprise you," You breathed out, trying to keep yourself from falling apart. "the things I'll do to keep you alive."

Finnick didn't know about Peeta or his suggestion to you. He didn't know that you'd considered — for a split second, to take his offer. Although Peeta was teasing, you knew that the thinly veiled insinuation was there. And, if you were to walk into his room, he would've opened the door and let you in without a doubt.

And, for some reason, you didn't hate the idea as much as you should've had.

And Finnick didn't know any of that. But, under his gaze and the burning hue in his green irises — it almost seemed as if he did. And, subconsciously, you embraced yourself for the worst: for an argument, an accusation — anything that could've broken your heart.

But, instead, Finnick whispered. "Please don't."

And your stomach dropped at the teary sound of his voice...because you weren't expecting it. "I don't think I would be able to survive that."

Your mouth went dry. "What — "

"— No, (Y/N), you don't understand," He interrupted, sliding a hand behind your neck to gently stop you. "I can survive Snow, I can survive the games — God, I can survive being sold off to the whole Capitol. But, please, don't ask me to watch you have somebody else's baby — our baby, please don't believe that for a second that I could ever be at peace with that."

"Then be with me." You exhaled, but it almost sounded like a pled as you rested your forehead against his and he shut his eyes tightly. As if he was almost debating over the matter in his own head. "Please, baby."

Your heart sank when he shook his head.

"I can't do that to you, (Y/N)," Finnick whispered, and for a moment, you weren't sure as to what he was referring to this time. Was it the marriage? The children? The punishment Snow had haunted him with? Or was it the games? You weren’t quite sure.

"We could win the games."

"No, baby," Finnick kissed your forehead and you exhaled audibly. "There are no winners."

He was right.

And, although you should've been mad at him — the anger quickly diminished when he wrapped his arms around you. You knew you should’ve pushed him away and turn the other way, but you didn’t. Because, despite everything, you still loved him and that night would be the last before the games — before the massacre.

And you didn't want to lose him just yet.

"Could you sleep with me tonight?" You whispered against his neck and his arms tightened a little more around your body.

"Always."

It was somewhere in the middle of the night when you woke up to the sound of muffled voices outside your bedroom. You opened your eyes to find the door slightly parted and the light from the hallway streaming in through the gap. Instinctively, you pushed onto your elbows and turned to the other side of the bed, but you were more than surprised to find the space empty.

Finnick was gone.

Confused, you made to toss the blankets aside and climb out of bed to look for him, but your muscles momentarily froze when you registered a familiar voice outside your door.

“You can’t speak of this, Finnick,” Haymich whispered, and the urgent sound of his voice forced a shiver to run down your spine. “It’s too dangerous, especially with Snow watching her.”

“I need to tell her, Haymich.” You heard Finnick reply, but his voice was quiet, barely audible.

“It’s for the best. If you want to protect her.”

Then silence ensued for a few minutes and the lights eventually shut off. Immediately, you laid back on your pillows and tossed to the other side of the bed to pretend you were sleeping. Until the other side of the bed deepened with the weight of Finnick and an arm wrapped around your waist.

For a few minutes, you lay there quietly as Finnick fell asleep; wondering what the hell Haymich and Finnick were talking about.

Soooooo, this chapter was longeeeer, but I do apologize for the wait, I’ve been busy with schoooool😫 Anywho, I’m wondering what team are you guys on?

Team Peeta or Team Finnick?

Please let me know you thoughts

@serrendiipty @avoxrising @queerqueenlynn @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @stayc-a-I-m @chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425 @leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-blog @meikoo @mozz-are-lla @nomorespahgetti @aestheticOcherryblossom

[hd-junglebook]

"Hey Sugar"

-said with rizz

Luke Hughes x F!Reader, Trevor Zegras x Reader (platonic)

Masterlist Link

a:n I had so much fun writing this, I'm literally already starting part 2 because I can't wait to get Lukes's story started. Young dad over here. This part is just a bunch of flirting, can you blame y/n?

Warnings: throuple jumpscare, angry ex girlfriends, flirting, alcohol, maybe cursing, suggestive flirting

Summary: The story begins with you at a party with your close group of friends. Simmering sexual tension crackles between you and Luke, building through flirtatious banter and charged dancing.

Word Count - 5450

Part 1

It was one of those classic house parties - the kind where the music thumped through the walls and the smell of stale beer and desperation hung thick in the air. You sidled through the crowd, dodging wandering hands and spilled drinks, scanning the familiar faces for your crew.

Finally, you spotted them crammed onto a sagging couch in the living room, laughing raucously at something one of them had said. Making your way over, you plonked down next to your best friend Jessica.

"Hey! You made it!" she shouted over the music, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Y/N, this is Luke. Luke, y/n."

You turned to find the source of the deep, gravelly chuckle beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met Luke's - a pair of piercing brown pools that seemed to stare straight through you. A lopsided grin played at his full lips as he extended a hand.

"Nice to meet you," he said smoothly.

The party raged on around you - bodies gyrated to the rhythmic bass line, red plastic cups sloshed with cheap booze, and a thick hermetic heat radiated from the mass of people. But in that moment, the chaos seemed to fade away as you studied Luke's face, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense yet playful gaze.

You swallowed hard, Lady Gaga singing about love over the speakers suddenly feeling all too appropriate. "Likewise," you managed with a nervous laugh, taking his hand.

An electric jolt shot through you at the contact, his calloused palm rough against your skin. You quickly pulled away, hoping the dim lights concealed your reddening face.

And just like that, the spark was lit. As the night wore on, you and Luke traded increasingly outrageous jokes and stories, your friends looking on with delight at the undeniable chemistry.

The party blurred into a dizzying kaleidoscope - the acrid smoke burning your nostrils, the relentless thrum of music in your bones, and the warm press of bodies all around. Yet through it all, you remained hyper-aware of Luke's proximity, his rich laugh and musky scent enveloping you like a cozy blanket.

Every accidental touch, be it a graze of the arms or bump of the knees, set your skin tingling with electricity. The few times your hands brushed, it felt like an exposed live wire.

You could have sworn you saw his gaze linger a little too long whenever you tossed your head back in laughter, swiping away a rogue strand of sweat-damp hair from your flushed face.

"Oh my god, y/n, we need to grab you a drink - stat!" Your friend Maggy grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the couch area with a conspiratorial look. Jessica trailed behind, her perfectly arched brows raised knowingly.

You let them drag you into the chaos of the kitchen, dodging half-naked bodies and heaps of abandoned solo cups. Maggy was a force of nature - her wild crimson curls bouncing as she maneuvered the crowd with ease.

"Okay, spill!" she demanded once you reached the relative safety of the counter. Jessica busied herself fixing you a vodka cran, her slim fingers deftly working the sticky bottles.

Maggy smoothed her short ruffled dress over her curvy hips. "Don't tell me you've fallen for Hughes' charms already?"

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed. "It was just some harmless flirting, Mags. I can handle myself."

"That's what they all say..." she warned with a shake of her head, making her diamond studs dance. "I've heard the stories, y/n. That man is a bonafide panty-dropper."

Scoffing, you swiped the proffered drink from Jessica and took a defiant sip. "Well then it's a good thing I'm not wearing any panties tonight."

The three of you dissolved into raucous laughter, drawing annoyed looks from the nearby beer pong champions. Once you recovered, you fixed Maggy with a reassuring smile.

"Look, you know the last thing I need right now is another relationship. Nick and I just ended things. I'm simply enjoying the flirtatious banter, that's all."

Maggy held up her hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just looking out for you, babe. We all know how charming Luke can be."

"Don't worry," Jessica chimed in with a wink. "Our girl can handle herself."

With that, you allowed them to whisk you back towards the living room, drink in hand. But you pulled up short at the sight of Luke engaged in a heated exchange with a beautiful, irate-looking woman.

"You've got to be kidding me, Luke!" the woman hissed, her face contorted in anger. "First you go radio silent for weeks, and now I find you here making moves on fresh meat?"

Luke? You shot a panicked look at your friends who seemed just as confused. Luke, however, appeared unfazed by the confrontation. A slight smirk played at the corner of his lips as he slowly looked the woman up and down.

"Relax, Amanda. You know how this works between us. We were over a long time ago," he stated coolly, taking a swig from a bottle of beer.

Amanda opened her mouth to retort, but seemed to notice your presence for the first time. Her icy glare landed on you as she sized you up with disdain.

You watched with a mixture of confusion and fascination as the gorgeous but venomous Amanda stormed away from Luke. Before you could even process what was happening, she was suddenly in your face, eyes blazing with contempt.

"Listen here, you little homewrecker," Amanda spat, jabbing a precisely manicured nail into your shoulder. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay far away from my man."

Your friends tensed beside you, but before they could intervene, Luke was there - placing himself squarely between you and the irate woman. Up close, you could see the taut muscles in his back and shoulders straining against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

"That's enough, Amanda," he said firmly, fixing her with a stern look. "We're not together anymore, in case you missed the memo. Multiple times."

"Oh, I got the memo loud and clear!" she retorted, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Doesn't mean I'm just going to stand by while you sow your oats all over town!"

Luke rolled his eyes so hard, you thought they might stick that way. He opened his mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of continuing this ridiculous showdown in front of an audience.

"You know what?" you interjected, hands up in surrender. "I'm just gonna remove myself from this situation."

Luke's brow furrowed in protest, but Amanda cut him off with a derisive laugh. "Yeah, that would probably be best, sweetie."

With that parting shot, you spun on your heel and made a beeline for the kitchen, needing to put some distance between yourself and the unstable ex-couple.

Your head was still spinning from the strange confrontation as you grabbed a fresh drink and settled into a miraculously empty couch in the corner.

"Wild night, huh?"

You startled at the unexpected voice beside you. A gangly, bespectacled guy around your age offered an awkward grin, clearly having witnessed the whole Amanda meltdown.

"You could say that," you replied with a rueful chuckle, scooting over to make room for him. "I'm Y/N."

"Trevor," he said, sticking out a clammy hand to shake. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just got the best dinner and a show."

You couldn't help but laugh at his self-deprecating humor, feeling yourself instantly relax in his affable presence. Trevor had a dopey, teddy bear quality about him that put you at ease.

"So is that your girlfriend then? The one trying to claw your eyes out?" he asked with an amused snicker.

"God no!" you replied quickly, perhaps a little too emphatically. "I seriously just met that guy tonight. The crazy ex is all his."

Trevor's eyes widened comically behind his thick frames. "No shit? Well damn, Y/N, you really don't waste any time stirring up drama."

"Hey, I'm an innocent bystander here!" you protested with a laugh, giving his arm a playful shove.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, clearly emboldened by your easygoing banter. The two of you slipped into a conversational groove, chatting and laughing like old friends as the party raged on around you. You found yourself regaling Trevor with tales of your romantic exploits, your tongue rapidly loosening thanks to the alcohol.

"So to sum it up," you said, words starting to slur ever so slightly, "I did not come here looking for any more drama or dick after that whole Nick debacle."

Trevor very nearly did a spit-take with his beer at your crude candor. "Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, sweetie, but it sounds like both drama and dick found you tonight!"

You threw your head back with a raucous cackle at that. Leave it to Trevor to cut right through the tension with well-timed crass humor. You were really starting to like this guy.

"You know what?" you said, looping your arm chummily through his. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Trev."

…

"Y/N! Get your cute butt over here!" Maggy's voice sliced through the din as she waved you over to the makeshift dance floor.

You shot Trevor an apologetic shrug before letting your friend drag you into the sweaty mass of bodies. Jessica was there too, her eyes shamelessly roving over Trevor's lanky frame as he trailed behind.

"We've been watching you two lovebirds canoodling in the corner all night," Maggy shouted over the thumping bassline, giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

"Somebody's jealous they're not the center of attention for once," you teased back with an impish grin.

Maggy's cherry-painted lips curved into a Cheshire smile. "Please, I'm an eternal attention hog. And FYI, your dorky friend is kinda doing it for me."

You followed her gaze to where Trevor was awkwardly bobbing his head to the beat, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He offered a small, lopsided smile when he caught you looking.

"Well what are you two harpies waiting for?" you challenged with a salacious wink. "Go get your man!"

With a raucous whoop, Maggy seized Jessica's hand and the two descended on the unsuspecting Trevor - a flurry of hair tosses, wiggling hips, and bright laughter. You watched the spectacle with unbridled amusement, letting the bass pump through your veins as you swayed your hips.

This was exactly what you needed - to let go and get gloriously lost in the music, surrounded by the frankly ridiculous antics of your nearest and dearest. You threw your head back, shutting out everything but the driving rhythm.

That's when you felt it - a solid chest pressing against your back, large hands skimming over your hips to settle at your waistline. You turned with a start to find Luke's heavily lidded eyes staring down at you, a rakish grin playing at his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he murmured, words barely audible over the pounding speakers.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he simply shook his head and leaned in closer, his mouth a whisper from your ear.

"I didn't mean for Amanda to make such a scene back there," Luke said, his breath hot against your neck. "I didn't even invite her here, but...she always finds a way. It's..."

You turned slightly so your lips were nearly brushing his chiseled jaw as you finished the thought: "Complicated?"

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest as Luke nodded almost imperceptibly. "Exactly. Complicated."

One of his hands trailed up the curve of your waist, leaving a searing trail in its wake until it came to rest at the nape of your neck. You shivered at the contact, equal parts electrified and apprehensive.

"What do you say we get out of here?" he purred, dipping his head so your noses were virtually touching.

You wanted so badly to give in - to lose yourself in those smoldering brown depths and see where this tempestuous night took you. But the memory of Amanda's feral snarl flashed behind your eyes, quickly snapping you back to reality.

"I...I can't," you managed to rasp, hating the way your voice trembled with longing. "I can’t leave my friends. They might rip Trevor to shreds if they’re not supervised."

Luke's eyes searched yours for a beat, likely trying to gauge your sincerity. You could practically see the thoughts churning behind those blazing irises as he processed your hesitation. After a weighted pause, his expression softened into something like resigned understanding.

"You're worried about leaving those knuckleheads unsupervised, huh?" he murmured, one side of those obscene lips quirking faintly.

Though Luke aimed for a teasing lilt, you caught the undercurrent of knowing behind his words. He understood, perhaps better than anyone, the tangled responsibility you felt towards maintaining harmony within your dysfunctional found family.

Swallowing hard, you gave a tight nod - hating how your throat still felt obstructed by the press of yearning. "Something like that, yeah.”

Rather than argue or attempt to sway you, Luke simply held your gaze for another few suspended heartbeats. You waited with bated breath, half-expecting him to withdraw his heated proposition completely in favor of rejoining the main fray.

To your surprise, however, the pad of his thumb began tracing idle circles against the jut of your hipbone - calloused whorls raising delicious frissons across your sensitized skin.

…

The thunderous bass line reverberated through your bones as you swayed absently, still dazed from Luke's heated proposition. You were so lost in the lingering tingle of his phantom touch that you didn't notice your friends closing in until they were right on top of you.

"Earth to Y/N!" Maggy's raucous laughter pierced your stupor as she looped an arm around your shoulders. "Where'd you just go, girl? We've been watching you make heart eyes at McDreamy over there."

You blinked rapidly, struggling to refocus on Maggy's mischievous grin with Trevor and Jessica flanking her. The three of them looked like the cat that ate the canary as they not-so-subtly craned their necks toward Luke.

"I wasn't...we weren't..." you fumbled lamely, feeling heat bloom across your cheeks.

"Oh save it, we all saw that heavy flirtation!" Jessica crowed with a wiggle of her sculpted brows.

Trevor chuckled good-naturedly, giving your arm a consoling pat. "Hey, no judgment here, Y/N. I'd be a stuttering mess too if I had a stud like that whispering sweet nothings in my ear."

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, but couldn't quite suppress the giddy smile tugging at your lips. Leave it to your cadre of derelict besties to drag you out of an emotional spiral.

With a groan of mock exasperation, you shoved at Trevor's shoulder. "You're all ridiculous, you know that?"

"And you loooove us for it!" Maggy sang out as the first few lines of "Sandstorm" began thumping from the speakers.

She immediately launched into an embarrassingly enthusiastic dance routine, throwing shapes with reckless abandon. Trevor and Jessica were quick to join the absurdity, shouting the iconic intro at the top of their lungs while thrashing about uncoordinatedly.

"Oh my god, you idiots..." you huffed through a peal of laughter, shaking your head at their antics.

It was then that you noticed Luke watching the scene with undisguised amusement - a lopsided smirk playing at his lips as he clutched a beer loosely in one hand. His gaze met yours over the bouncing heads, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Suddenly, Maggy seized your wrists and yanked you into the fray with surprising strength. You stumbled clumsily into the center of their ridiculous mosh pit, nearly toppling Jessica in the process.

"Y/N! Get in here and get LOW!" Maggy hollered over the thunderous refrain, demonstrating a particularly lascivious body roll.

You couldn't help but cackle at the sheer silliness of it all - these beautiful disasters grinding outrageously as the bass threatened to shake the walls down around you. Even Luke was chuckling now, biting his full lower lip in an utterly delectable way.

"Like this?" you shouted back with a wink, dropping into as crude a dance as you could muster.

That sent your friends into a fresh gale of howls and wolf whistles, cheering you on like it was a damn Olympic sport. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Luke's intense stare tracking every roll and pop of your hips. The heated look in his eyes sent a delicious curl of desire unfurling low in your belly.

Before you could dwell too much on the implications, Jessica grabbed your arm and spun you around - purposefully flinging you in Luke's direction. You landed square against his solid chest with a tiny "oomph!", totally disoriented from the dizzying maneuver.

Large hands immediately bracketed your waist, steadying you as Luke threw his head back with a rich peal of laughter. You could feel the rumbling vibrato against your back as he tugged you more solidly against him.

"Careful there, sugar," Luke's gravelly timbre purred in your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive shell. "As much as I'm enjoying this dance routine, I'd hate for you to injure yourself on my watch."

You bit back a soft whimper at the feeling of his firm torso pressed against you, the scent of his sandalwood cologne utterly intoxicating. With your drunken bravado bolstered by your friends' raucous cheering, you leaned further back into his embrace.

"I don't know, big guy," you countered with a saucy grin over your shoulder. "I think you could handle me just fine."

Luke's eyes blazed at the obvious flirtation, his arms tightening fractionally around your middle. You could have sworn you felt his hips cant subtly against yours in time with the grinding bassline.

This charged dance continued for what felt like an eternity - your friends whooping and hollering in delight as you and Luke traded searing looks and teasing quips.

At one point, his hands drifted tantalizingly low on your hips, fingers splaying possessively. You retaliated by arching your back in a slow, filthy body roll that had his eyes darkening with naked want.

Just when you thought the tension might combust into something more, the song mercifully ended - leaving you both panting heavily with lingering desire. Trevor was the first to recover, clapping Luke heartily on the shoulder.

"Damn son, get a room why don't you?" he joked with a lopsided grin.

Luke merely chuckled darkly, finally releasing you from his iron grip so you could put some much-needed space between your overheated bodies. "Maybe next time, Trev," he shot back with a wink.

You busied yourself straightening your disheveled clothes, decidedly avoiding his molten gaze. But you couldn't deny the delicious new tension sparking between you.

"Hey, uh, not that this hasn't been a total blast and all..." Trevor piped up once you'd fully disengaged. "But I don't know about you hedonists, but I'm starving. Who wants to grab some late-night munchies?"

A raucous cheer went up from your breathless crew, with Maggy and Jessica readily agreeing. You opened your mouth to voice your assent when Luke cocked an inquisitive brow in your direction.

"You in, sugar?" His voice was midnight sin - rough and dripping with unspoken promises.

Something low in your abdomen clenched at the pet name, now inextricably linked to his heated stare and probing touch. Maybe it was the alcohol buzz, or residual adrenaline from your shameless grinding, but you found yourself nodding almost shyly.

Luke's answering grin was pure, predatory satisfaction. "Perfect. I know just the place."

…

The five of you made your way toward the exit with a chorus of giddy laughter, still riding the high of your dance-fueled flirtation. As you stepped out into the cool spring air, Luke fell into step beside you - though he kept a carefully measured distance between your bodies.

"I'm parked just up here," he said by way of explanation, gesturing vaguely down the darkened residential street. "That is, if you kids don't mind piling into my douchemobile?"

The teasing lilt in his tone made you huff out a laugh, still giddy with lingering adrenaline. "Only if you stop calling it that immediately and forever."

Luke threw you a rakish wink over the sloping muscles of his shoulder. "Whatever you want, love."

Trevor, Jess and Maggy trailed a few paces behind, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. You caught Maggy's pointed look in your direction and offered her a warning glare - though you were sure your flushed cheeks gave you away.

Sure enough, Luke's rumbling chuckle confirmed he'd borne witness to the silent exchange. The streetlamps cast his chiseled features in a warm amber glow as he slanted you an amused look. "I have a feeling I'm about to be interrogated by your overprotective friends, huh?"

You nibbled your lower lip self-consciously, considering your response. There was an undeniable spark between you - one that had been stoked higher with every heated look and lingering caress. The real question was whether you were brave enough to fan those flames further or risk getting burned.

Steeling yourself, you lifted your chin to meet his piercing brown stare head on. "Maybe. But I kind of like to make people sweat a little."

The remark clearly took Luke by surprise if his arched brow was any indication. But it was fleeting - that roguish half-grin quickly stretching across his kiss-stung lips.

"Is that so?" he rumbled in a tone that could only be described as molten sin. "Game on then, gorgeous."

You held his fiery gaze for a beat, letting the exhilarating tension build between you like a livewire. Only when the rest of the crew caught up did you finally tear your eyes away, turning to lead the group toward Luke's parked car.

The quiet streets seemed to amplify every sound - the crunch of loose gravel underfoot, the peal of distant laughter, your thundering pulse in your ears. You drew a steadying breath into your aching lungs, trying to center yourself amidst the storm of giddy adrenaline.

When you finally reached Luke's sleek black Mustang, he turned to the group with an almost apologetic quirk of his brow.

"She's not the roomiest ride, but we can make it work," he said, clicking the keyless remote to unlock the doors.

Jessica immediately scrambled into the front passenger seat with Maggy and Trevor piling into the backseat, leaving you and Luke to bring up the rear. He held the driver's door open in an exaggerated show of chivalry, one side of that delicious smirk quirking higher.

"After you, gorgeous."

You rolled your eyes at the pageantry, but couldn't resist shooting him a playful grin as you slid into the buttery leather interior. Luke followed close behind, the hot brand of his body heat prickling at your hyper-aware senses.

Once he'd maneuvered his large frame behind the wheel, he flashed you a Look from beneath those obscenely thick lashes. "You good?"

The simple question seemed layered with unspoken subtext, like he was silently gauging if you were ready to continue down this path of escalating tension and blatant flirtation. Were you?

You could have backed down, downshifted the energy into something more innocent and casual. But the memory of his firm hands on your hips, the hot scorch of his stare...your mind was made up.

"I'm good," you murmured back, holding his gaze unblinkingly as his eyes ignited with fresh interest. "Just tell me where to put my hands."

A muscle ticked in Luke's tensed jaw at the brazen double entendre, his nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly. You could practically see the war raging behind his blazing eyes - restraint battling with base desire.

Finally, he seemed to reign himself in with a huff of startled laughter, raking a broad hand through his tumbled curls. "Jesus, Y/N...I'm gonna have my work cut out for me with you."

The delicious promise in his gravelly timbre had your pulse kicking up another few notches. You wet your lips unconsciously, unable to tear your eyes from the searing heat of his stare.

"I'd apologize," you said, aiming for nonchalance but landing somewhere around breathless, "but I don't think either of us would mean it."

Perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, or the lingering high of the party thrumming through your veins. Whatever the reason, you were powerless to halt the breakneck freight train of flirtation between you two. And judging by Luke's molten countenance, the feeling was entirely mutual.

"Don't you worry, gorgeous," he rumbled, one side of those obscene lips quirking dangerously. "This is going to be fun."

With that tantalizing promise lingering like a heady cloud around you both, Luke finally started the ignition. The rumbling growl of the Mustang's engine was like a physical force pulsing through the car as you tore off into the night - laughing and shouting along with your friends.

The revelry continued as you wound through the darkened streets - one outrageous story segueing into another, punctuated only by riotous bouts of laughter. Maggy, as ever, was in rare form - dramatically reenacting an ill-advised tale involving a Thanksgiving turkey and far too much tequila.

Even Luke was in stitches by the end, so enraptured by the ridiculous saga that he swerved slightly on a tight curve. You cried out in surprise, bracing yourself instinctively against the solidness of his bicep. At your squawk, his gaze swung toward you - heavy-lidded and sparking with remnants of mirth.

"You alright, gorgeous?" he rumbled, that infuriatingly charming lopsided smirk back in place.

You aimed a petulant glare his way, but couldn't quite bite back an answering grin of your own. "Eyes on the road, hotshot. I'd like to make it to this mystery food destination in one piece."

Luke threw you a lazy wink, as if reading the lack of any genuine heat behind your words. "Don't worry, I've got great hands."

Your breath caught at the pointed innuendo as Jessica let out a scandalized gasp from the front seat - apparently eavesdropping on your hushed flirtation.

"Oh my GOD!" she crowed with delight, whipping around to face you with shining eyes. "You two are too much! When's the wedding?"

"I'm asking for a plus one," Maggy piped up from behind you with an audible smirk.

Leveling the both of them with a long-suffering look, you simply shook your head and settled deeper into the plush leather interior. Out of your peripheral vision, you caught Luke's answering eye roll - one corner of that lascivious mouth tugging higher.

...

For a while after, the inside of the growling Mustang lapsed into a companionable quiet. Your heart still hammered a staccato rhythm against your ribs, fueled by the lingering adrenaline and the heated promise in Luke's flinty stare.

Now that you were alone with him - temporarily freed from the raucous peanut gallery - the tension hummed between you like a livewire.

You felt him shift almost imperceptibly closer to you, the delicious warmth of his solid body ghosting along your side as he navigated the winding back roads.

He held the wheel in one large hand, his other arm draped casually along the center console - close enough for you to count the fine golden hairs dusting those corded forearms.

It would have been so easy then - to traverse that scant distance separating your bodies and slide your palm over his, to lace your fingers through his and seal this casual flirtation into something more. But you refrained, cognizant of your friends' continued presence just a breath away.

Still, you couldn't deny the delicious tension sparking between you and Luke. Nor could you ignore the way your body hummed in attuned response to his proximity, every molecule attuned to drinking him in.

A heavy silence had fallen over the car's occupants - the only sound the occasional burst of laughter from those in the backseat, quickly smothered under mutual hushing. Luke appeared singularly focused on the dark ribbon of road whipping by, his chiseled jaw tight and flickering in the intermittent glow of passing streetlamps.

Just when you thought the hot tension might calcify into something unbearable, he cleared his throat subtly. You startled at the quiet rasp, inclining your head slightly in acknowledgment as he slanted you a weighted look.

"So...Maggy seems delightful," Luke murmured dryly after a beat, their low timber thrumming through you. "Among other things."

You couldn't quite stifle the snort of laughter that bubbled up at his tactful observation. "That's one way to put it. Though I'd add 'loyal to a fault' in there too."

"Ah, so the protective smokescreen is merely for my benefit then?" he surmised with a sidelong glance, the barest quirk playing at those obscene lips. "Should I be insulted?"

Huffing out a rueful laugh, you shifted minutely closer to him - near enough to catch the cedar and smoke notes wafting from the open vee of his shirt.

"Definitely not," you assured him in a lowered tone, keeping your words confined to the intimate pocket between you. "If anything, you should feel fortunate. They don't extend that...dedicated brand of harassment to just anyone."

Luke seemed to digest this as he guided the Mustang around another tight bend, his jaw tensing almost imperceptibly before easing into an indulgent grin.

"Lucky me then," he rumbled after a beat, shooting you a Look from beneath those ridiculous lashes. "Should I be bracing myself for an interrogation?"

The sultry backnote in Luke's words hung heavy between you as the Mustang's growl filled the weighted silence. You were hyper-aware of each whisper of movement from him - every subtle flex of those chiseled forearms as he gripped the wheel, the shifting of corded muscle in his thighs as he worked the pedals.

It was enough to make your mouth go dry with longing.

You worried your lower lip, struggling to keep your thundering pulse in check as you murmured your response. "Well, if their interrogation tactics are anything like their dance moves, you'd better buckle up, Hughes."

The rich ramble of Luke's laughter seemed to reverberate through your very bones at the rejoinder. You stole a glance at the hard line of his smiling profile, bathed in the warm amber glow of the passing streetlamps.

"Is that a promise, gorgeous?" he countered without missing a beat, slanting you a Look from beneath those ridiculous lashes.

You held his molten stare for a heated heartbeat, caught like a moth in that blazing glare. Did he have any idea what he did to you with that stupid pet name and the sinful rasp of his voice? Probably, if the blatant flirtiness was any indication.

Before you could formulate a suitable retort, the sudden assault of bright neon lights up ahead shattered the electric tension. You blinked rapidly, struggling to read the flickering signs as Luke slowed the Mustang.

"This is the place," he explained as he smoothly guided the car into the near-empty parking lot. "Open 24 hours and right on the beach."

As he killed the engine, the overhead dome light bathed the car's interior in a warm halo of illumination. From this angle, you could make out the sharp planes of Luke's striking profile - that aristocratic nose, the razor cut of his stubbled jaw, and the artful sprawl of those ridiculous curls.

Good lord, the man was distractingly beautiful.

Any further appreciation was curtailed as the trio banged against the seat in a noisy clatter. You and Luke relented, pulling up the seats to free them. Maggy and Trevor came tumbling out in a gangly, graceless heap - seemingly having partaken in too much backseat horseplay if their breathless giggling was any indication.

"About time!" Maggy crowed dramatically once she'd righted herself. "I thought we'd be cruising the streets all night before Sir Lancelot here found a suitable dining establishment."

One dark brow arched elegantly over Luke's hooded eyes as he slanted her an imperious look. "I beg your pardon? This place is a fucking culinary treasure."

Jessica snickered indelicately, clearly gearing up to instigate whatever fresh hell was brewing. However, you opted to defuse the situation before it could fully detonate.

"Shall we, troops? I don't know about you animals, but I'm starving after all that..."dancing.""

The loaded pause and meaningful look you threw Luke didn't go unnoticed if his answering smirk was any indication. Egalitarian as ever, he merely chuckled and nodded towards the brightly-lit takeout counter in the distance.

"Lead the way, gorgeous."

…

Tag List <3

empty lol

[naturallydark]

LadyLyra🤝determinution Tech!Mags is wires

Awesome Scrybeswap designs by @determunition [x] and @ladylyra [x]!

[lucillethebat]

Something about how the Eye’s always been there. About how Jon’s voice starts slow and monotone in the first season, when he still doubts these statements. Something about how, toward the middle of the statement, before the thing happens, he takes a breath where the victim took a breath, where their thoughts stumbled. About how he reads them and laughs when they do, and how his tone changes.

Something about how, in Mag 33, Tim was asking Jon why he classified things under the wrong date, someone’s name was wrong, something was cross-referenced wrong…he Knew all along, and had no idea he did.

Something about how he knew everything since the beginning, he read the statements as if they were his own stories, with fear and questions and scoffs and stutters. Something about how the Eye’s been in him since he worked above the basement.

Something about how Jon would read each statement and give what seemed to be an initial reaction to the content—shock, fear, ‘more spiders’— and then say “I had Martin look into this,” and then explain what they followed the case with, even though this seems to be the first time he’s read it. About how the Eye looked into every case, or set it before any of the gang and had them look into it before Jon could read it.

And now, something about how the computer voice fades. How Jon’s voice is still there, how he’s still real. How he’s real on his own terms, in computers still run by the Eye. How he can’t escape but he’s still listed as “unknown” on his Wiki page. Something about how Jon Simms is still out there and still being human through these wires.

Something about how the Eye’s known and loved Jon, and how the Eye still crinkles when someone tells a lie and how Jon’s still human enough in there to read these statements to everyone, listening or not.