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lottielovelace · 1 month ago

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công chúa

(ghost x könig's-sister!reader)

summary: You're just a student trying to make through med school with your sanity intact. That last thing you needed was to be kidnapped to serve as a hostage for a half-brother you've never met.

At least the special forces operative here to help is cute.

originally posted on ao3 (wordcount: 3.8k)

Rating: T

Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader, Kate Laswell x her wife (I call her Jean), König & Reader <- PLATONIC

Ao3 Tags: meet cute! in a prison camp / First Meetings / tries to follow canon characterization / less so canon events/timeline / so some things (like the villains) are VERY vague / Past Suicide Attempt / Undercover Simon "Ghost" Riley / Unmasked Simon "Ghost" Riley / (Temporarily) / reader has a name & backstory but I tried to make it unobtrusive

this is a part of a series

Author's note: I do write this story with a specific OC (check the series masterpost if you want a full breakdown of her) in mind just so characterization is consistent, but I tried to make it possible for you to replace her with whoever you imagine. I do have to explicitly mention details unique to the OC (most obvious example here being her ethnicity and name [Elise Veidt]), but for the most part I'll try to keep things open ended (ex: using "your hair" instead of "your dark hair").

Also, as I mentioned, the OC's ethnicity (half-Vietnamese) is pretty plot relevant this chapter, but if that disrupts your reading flow, feel free to mentally replace it with whatever makes sense for your own personal read-through. I'm not used to writing in second person, so the verb tenses are kinda screwy.

Also this is in the tags but TW: DISCUSSION OF A PAST SUICIDE ATTEMPT (character has for the most part fully recovered)

công chúa:

People could be so fucking stupid sometimes. Bold and stupid. Newbies especially. New recruits—or in this case, new criminal organizations—always think they’ll be special. The exception to the rule.

Take for example, this new group who had the bloody brilliant idea of trying to control special forces (and a handful of top PMCs) by kidnapping anyone ransom-worthy they could get their grubby little hands on. Which meant a lot of missing parents, kid siblings, and SOs.

Ghost couldn’t tell if they actually thought that would work or if this was just some distraction. Perhaps an intimidation ploy or a small part of some greater plan. Either way, in reality, all they ended up with was a whole bunch of pissed-off—and very well trained—soldiers, many of whom were willing to do anything to get their loved ones back. Even allying with their greatest rivals. Ghost didn’t predict to end up working with KorTac of all bedfellows, but even their lads weren’t safe.

In the past month, he'd had to bear witness to his comrades and competitors getting wrecked, worried sick over their nearest and dearest. Laswell might’ve single-handedly revived the tobacco industry and he’d never seen Johnny so torn up.

Ghost himself had been spared any grief. He would’ve liked to pretend that it was because his mask had protected his identity so well, but the reality was much simpler and bleaker. He had nobody to take. Tommy and Joseph and Beth and Mum were all already six feet under. Nothing would ever change that.

That being said, the mask wasn’t useless.

The hostagers had done extensive research into all their personal lives. They needed to in order to find out who they could kidnap and how. They had become intimately familiar with every combatant their cobbled alliance could send—with one glaring exception.

They certainly knew about Ghost, but not even they knew Ghost’s face—at least according to the dossier smuggled to the Task Force.

After that was discovered, going undercover was less of a choice and more of a duty.

----------

“Jean?”

The woman’s head jerked up at the whispered sound of her name. Finding no one in front of her, she swiveled. Her eyes landed on an idle balaclava-ed guard.

“Don’t look at me,” the guard commanded. He followed his own advice, keeping his gaze trained on the horizon. His voice was low and rough. Familiar.

Jean Laswell hazarded one last glance at him. She squinted, trying to place where she'd seen him before.

A stifled gasp rang out as her eyes widened in recognition.

“Ghost?”

“Keep your voice down, I’m undercover.”

Jean tried to keep her body language innocuous, eyes now glued to her own clasped hands. The last thing she wanted was to blow Ghost's cover.

“It’s good to see your face— or er, hear your voice.” Pleasantries aside, she went straight to the first question on her mind, the one that had plagued her sleepless nights. “How’s Kate?”

"Smoking like a chimney, but otherwise holding up. She misses you."

"Are you here to…"

"Not yet. KorTac and the team are planning a mutual offensive, but we need more intel before exfil becomes viable. Intel I was tasked with collecting."

His tone didn't reassure her.

"But…"

"I ran into a little roadblock. I was supposed to receive, memorize, and orally deliver crucial information about the compound’s layout and security flaws. We’d had some limited online communication with our informant, but couldn’t get anything sensitive past the security systems. So I volunteered to get it directly. Unfortunately, we didn’t know that our informant only speaks Vietnamese, Cantonese, and some very broken Russian. The dictionary he’d been previously using isn’t complex enough for the level of detail we need. Our shared Russian skills aren’t much better. I can’t leave until I have the intel memorized and I can’t memorize it until we find a translator."

"Could you leave and come back with a translator? A digital one maybe if you can't get anyone else past the guards?"

Ghost shook his head, “They know that we're trying to infiltrate them. They’re very strict about what technology gets in and out. Besides, my cover is only so good. I should be able to get a believable excuse to leave camp, but the scrutiny required for re-entry would compromise it.”

Jean pursed her lips in thought, running over the possibilities. She paused, half thinking out loud.

“I think the princess speaks Vietnamese.”

“Princess?” Ghost’s eyes widened beneath his mask. Shit, no one told him they'd taken someone so high profile. That significantly complicated security procedure. “I thought all their targets were lowkey.”

“No, no, she’s not royalty. She’s a med student. It’s just a nickname,” Jean hastily corrected with an embarrassed laugh. “We have a lot of those here. We get kinda bored.”

Ghost silently thought back on his own POW experiences.

“Things could be a whole lot worse than boredom.”

“The perks of being a hostage," Jean responded dryly. "Need us in one piece.”

“So where’s this ‘princess’ of yours?”

“There,” Jean pointed at the upper level of the compound's eastern turret. “You can see where the nickname comes from. She’s in solitary, but she has a window that we talk to her through during yard time.”

“What'd she do?” Unless the hostage takers were worse than he thought, they wouldn’t put someone in solitary for shits and giggles.

“She’s… a special case."

“Who’s she tied to?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. Not even she knows.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I know I’m here because of Kate. Ritchie’s here because of his uncle. Troy because of his brother. Eileen… could be her nephew, but it’s probably Soap. But Elise—that’s her name, Elise Veidt. Do you know any Veidts in Special Forces or KorTac?”

“Not to my knowledge, no. Could it be her boyfriend?”

Jean shook her head, “No. The common theory is an uncle or half sibling. Both her parents were civilians, but her father had family and an ex-wife on the other side of the Atlantic. She has no idea where they are now or if they’re even still alive, but it seems the most likely—if not the only—possibility. Plus she was single when she was discovered.”

Ghost's brow furrowed.

“Discovered? What do you mean by that?”

“There was… an incident. It ended with her being taken into custody.”

Ghost wanted to press for more detail, but Jean flashed him a look that stopped him in his tracks. She was married to Laswell, and that doesn't happen without being able to hold her own in an argument.

“It’s not my story to tell." Her tone was measured, but Ghost could tell this was non-negotiable to her. “She’s a good kid. Just got in a bit of a rough patch. Along the way she had her blood tested and it must’ve pinged… something. Next thing she knows, she’s getting transferred. They refuse to tell her where. When she resists, she gets knocked out and wakes up here.”

“That still doesn’t explain the isolation.”

“We think that whoever she’s related to, it must be someone important. Or someone very dangerous. Someone they’re scared to anger.”

“Then why did they kidnap her if they’re so bloody afraid of pissing the bugger off?”

“Taking her was probably a calculated risk. Returning her damaged a death sentence. They wanted to make sure she doesn’t get hurt, either by her own hand or someone else’s.”

----------

Ghost cautiously approached the cell door. According to the directory, this was “Detainee #934287: VEIDT, Elisabeth.” He peered through the grate, careful not to get too close to the opening—he knew firsthand how solitary confinement could warp the mind and liked having both his eyes intact.

From what he could see, the cell had a tiny cot, stripped of its sheets on the left. On the right was a wash basin and bucket. In between was a small window—just large enough to stick your face out of. It wasn’t the worst cell Ghost had seen, but it wasn’t homey either. It also appeared to be empty.

“What the—” he muttered under his breath.

The low rumble of his voice almost made you jump from your position, sitting leaned against the door. The window was your only connection to the outside world, but it also made your cell freezing so you tried to stay as far away from it as possible when there was no one outside to talk to. You paused, confused then intrigued. You didn’t think they had a British guard. Slowly, you got up.

He was closer than you assumed. Right up against the door, you almost had to suppress the urge to jump again. You silently mourned the fact that such a pretty pair of eyes were wasted on some terrorist dipshit.

Still, you were bored enough that anything seemed intriguing.

“You’re new.”

“You’re Elise, right?”

Your lips quirked with all the cockiness of someone who knew they couldn’t be touched.

“Shouldn’t they have already debriefed you on that?”

“The only person who’s briefed me on you was Jean.”

Your eyes narrowed. You may have only been able to communicate through a tiny window, but you trusted Jean. You knew her. She wouldn't rat on you, not without a fight.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” his voice grew even gentler. Soft in a way that commanded you to hang on every word. “I’m here to help.”

Attractive voice and eyelashes aside, you were still unimpressed.

“Really?”

“I'm on a reconnaissance mission for Special Forces. I was supposed to memorize this file. I wasn’t told it was going in Vietnamese.”

You perked up at this. Finally, things were making a little sense.

“I speak Vietnamese.”

“So I’ve heard.”

You took one last look at him, trying to figure out if this was a trick or some sick game. Then again, if it was, what would they even do? Your captors didn’t seem allowed to punish you physically, and mentally there wasn’t much more they could do. Fuck it, you had nothing to lose.

You reached out your hand, “Gimme.”

He slipped you a folded up piece of paper. You unfolded it to reveal an annotated set of blueprints.

“Pen or pencil?” For all you know, he could be picky about that sort of stuff.

The man stood up to dig for something in his vest. You quietly realized that he’d been bending down to look you in the eye. This man, whoever he was, was tall.

He passed you a pen. You noticed that while his hands were gloved, a whisper of a tattoo peeked out as his sleeve rode up. It looked like it could be the bottom of a skull. Or a very small picket fence. Probably the former.

You figured he'd turn away and leave you to your work, but he doesn’t.

“Are you going to…”

“No,” he responded firmly. “If either of us get caught, at least two of us are screwed. I know I can get myself out of it, but our informant can’t. I won’t have his blood on your or my hands. So I’m going to keep watch.”

It’s slightly awkward with him just standing there, but you did your best to lay the blueprint flat against the wall and start scribbling away. Still, you couldn't help but let your eyes flit to him, now with his back to you, standing guard.

“Where are you from?”

“Hmm?”

“Your accent, where’s it from?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your work?”

“I could do this with both hands tied behind my back."

He made a doubtful noise.

You let a cheeky smile grace your lips, “Pen in my mouth, paper on the floor. Handwriting might be chicken scratch, but it’d still be legible.”

If you could see his face, you would’ve noticed his eyebrows raise as he tried to picture it. You on your knees, leaned forward with your ass in the air, hands bound, tongue twisted around the p—

“So, the accent? Where?”

“That’s classified.”

You tilted your head in thought, “It’s Northern, right? British, not Scottish. You don’t sound like Eileen.”

He bristled, quiet in a way that tells you you’re on the money.

“Look, how about this. For every question you answer truthfully, I’ll do the same. I won’t ask you anything I know you can’t tell me, not even your name. I just... wouldn’t mind a little conversation. They’re kinda in short supply here.”

A beat passed.

“Manchester.”

“I knew it!”

He made another noise. You think it was a laugh. You think it sounds beautiful.

“My turn. How do you know Vietnamese?”

“My mother. She immigrated from the South when she was young. Judging from some of his vocabulary, I’d guess your informant is from the North, but the dialects aren’t all that different, especially in script. What food do you miss the most?”

“Anything that isn’t an ORP.”

“An ORP?”

“Operational ration pack.”

If your hands were free, you would’ve crossed them.

“That’s a cop out.”

“Fine,” he relented. “I could go for a Nando’s takeaway.”

“What sort of food is that?”

“Chicken. Flame grilled with this Peri-Peri sauce and—”

He groaned. It’s a noise you want to hear again.

Mimicked him in commiseration. The plates the guards slid through your food slot were pitiful, to say the least.

He starts to ask you something but seems to stop himself.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s… I shouldn’t.”

You were many things, but you weren't a coward.

“I can always choose not to answer. Hit me.”

His voice was still hesitant as he asked, “What did you get arrested for?”

You were worried that the question would be gross or embarrassing, not utterly nonsensical.

“Arrested?”

“Jean said they found you because you were taken into custody.”

“Oh,” your cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t that type of custody. I was 5150-ed. Or more accurately 5250-ed.”

“Pardon?”

“I tried to kill myself. I failed.”

The man froze. He turned around, trying to get a glimpse of you—and any wounds—through the grate.

“Do you need medical attention?”

“No,” you reassured. “I stole some valium and then drank myself silly. I was found in time and they got me help before any irrevocable damage happened. If they hadn’t spotted the note they would’ve just written me off as some foolish party animal, pumped my stomach, and let me be on my merry way.”

You haphazardly glanced at him, expecting him to be stone cold. A proper soldier. To your surprise his eyes, those stupidly beautiful eyes, are trained on you with more care than you've seen in the last three months combined.

“Were you a user… before?”

You shake your head but your eyes remain locked. You couldn't bear to break contact.

“No. Too busy with school. But then my mom died and suddenly everything was… too much. Going to med school and becoming a doctor was what she wanted. The loans, the sleepless nights, the blood, sweat, and tears. It was all for her. Not me. I wanted to make her proud. Happy. And now that will never happen. Without her, I didn’t really see the point of continuing to put myself through hell. I tried to drop out, but the program wouldn’t let me. So I figured might as well cut out all stress in my life instead.”

“Are you planning to try again?”

“No,” the answer is honest. “I’m not giving these bastards the satisfaction. Plus I need to find whoever put me in this situation in the first place and give them a piece of my mind.” You turned back to the blueprints, gently trying to shift the tone back to the comfortable rapport you had earlier. You missed it and you need him to stop looking at you like that or you might do something stupid. “That was like three extra questions. It's my turn now. Any hobbies?”

“Hobbies?”

The very word sounded foreign on his tongue.

“You know. Do you have a secret passion for knitting or something?”

“Embroidery, actually. And that’s no secret.”

“So, anything you do outside of… espionage or whatever your job is?”

“I dunno. Football. Tattoos.”

“Giving or receiving?”

“The latter, though I have been curious to learn it.”

“Got a steady hand?”

He smiled, thinking about something you know he won’t tell you.

“You could say that.”

“Anything else?”

He paused for a moment. You can tell there’s something on his mind. He just hasn’t resolved whether you’re worth it to tell to.

“There’s a bare knuckle boxing club I like to go to when I’m on leave.”

You haven’t seen him in combat, but there’s something in the coiled posture of his stance that tells you he knows how to handle himself.

“I bet you kick their asses."

He says nothing, but you swear he almost preens.

"Could you teach me?"

His lips quirked.

"How serious are you being?"

"Pretty decently. They got me this time. I won't let that happen again. Not without a fight."

"If you're ever in Town, visit Stuart’s and ask for Simon. Might be able to give you a few pointers."

You look up at him, grinning.

"Simon, eh?"

He smiled. His gaze was still intense, but its stifling mixture of pity and worry was replaced by something warmer that made your chest flutter.

"Can't promise I'll be there, but the lady at the desk should be able to tell you when I'll be back."

You folded the blueprints, neatly passing them through the cell bars.

"Well, Simon. Here's your translation. Give them hell."

----------

Chaos. Complete and other chaos.

Smoke and bombs and bullets. You agonized over whether or not to look out the window. The unknown of what was happening was almost scarier than the reality. In the few furtive glances you spared, you caught the bodies. So many bodies. The only relief was that all of the dead seemed to be guards.

You thought back on Simon, dressed in the guard’s garb. These are probably his people. He must’ve gotten out and they must’ve gotten the intel. By now he’s probably on his next recon mission. You were able to learn a little about military structure from what the other hostages told you about their families. If his specialty was infiltration they probably weren't going to waste him on a direct assault like this.

Manchester. Stuart's. Simon.

You didn't need to see him before then. You just needed him to stay alive, wherever he was.

The cacophony slowly grew closer. You didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.

A loud buzz rang out as the power grid malfunctioned and the hallway outside your cell was plunged into darkness.

Something was happening and all you could do was sit back and listen.

There were screams. Some seemed to be of pure joy, others of painful death. Many you couldn’t tell apart.

There were gunshots. Often followed by gurgles and the sickening sound of someone falling to the ground. There were footsteps. Heavy ones. Slowly drawing nearer.

Someone jostled the cell door. You froze, holding your breath. Maybe they wouldn't even notice you.

The darkness outside your cell moved. A single blue eye peered through the grate, surrounded by black.

"Stay back," the eye commanded. You were all too happy to oblige him.

There was a quick bang and the cell door swung open, revealing a man. A large man.

He bent down to enter the cell before standing up to his full height. Clad in black with a mask you'd expect on a cartoon executioner, he unfolded like an eldritch piece of origami. He just seemed to keep on going.

“Are you Elisabeth?” Hearing it again, you realized his voice was accented. Up close, his demeanor transformed. He seemed... nervous. Incredibly so, barely even able to get the words out.

“Yes,” your voice is almost as hesitant as his.

“I— I am— Ah—” his feet shuffled about anxiously. Any bravado he had from battle has melted away, leaving him almost curled against the wall. You catch sight of a patch on his left side. Red. White. Red. The Austrian flag.

“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” ( Do you speak German? ) you asked. Maybe talking would be easier in his native language.

The man perked up, surprised but excited.

“Ja! Du auch?” ( Yes! Do you? )

You nod, “Mein Vater war Österreicher.” ( My father was Austrian. )

You knew this was a possibility. Even with the covered face and the giant height difference. Still, his next words caught you off guard.

“Ich weiß. Ich bin dein Halbbruder.” ( I know, I’m your half-brother. )

----------

The tall man, your brother, escorts you out. He promises to tell you everything and more once you’re away from this wretched place wo die Wände haben Ohren ( where the walls have ears ).

After being cooped up for so long, your legs protest the walk, but you pushed through. You were a free woman and you would never take that for granted again.

The exhaustion was worth it to step into the daylight with your own two feet.

Once your eyes adjusted, you realized that two portable camps had been set up on the perimeter. As predicted, there was no sign of Simon. You did see a couple familiar faces though, along with a plethora of heavily-armed strangers (including a man wearing a skeleton mask of all things!). Eileen was deep in conversation with a mohawk-ed man, but she threw you a warm smile as she spotted you heading to the other wolf-emblemed camp.

"Are you alright?" a voice called out at you. It was British: Northern, but rougher and gruffer than Simon's had ever been. Still, you allowed yourself to revel in the fantasy for a moment before you had to face the speaker and ruin the illusion.

You didn't know who you were expecting when you turned around, but it certainly wasn't the skull-masked man.

Up close he was even more striking. You could just barely make out his shaded eyes, alone in a void of black and white. He was shorter than your brother, but still tall by any measure. Even at that size he managed to sneak up on you two.

Your heart was racing. You didn't know why.

"Ye—yes," you managed to stammer out.

Your brother noticed your distress. It seems to give him a confidence to act that he couldn't summon for himself.

He wrapped a protective arm around you and began to lead you away.

“She’s with KorTac,” he said, like that explained everything.

During your confinement, you had plenty of time to think about what you would say to whoever got you into this mess by joining the military. You had dreams of really digging in and tearing them a new one. All of those dreams flew out the window now.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t or were afraid to antagonize someone as big as your brother. But, seeing him… you didn’t want to do that, or anything that could hurt him.

You wanted to talk to him. To get to know him. To—silly as it was—protect him.

After all, he was about the only family you had left.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #platonic König & reader #platonic konig & reader #König #konig #cod #call of duty #fic #fanfiction #công chúa #cong chua #die Prinzessin series #die Prinzessin au #cod mw2 #modern warfare reboot

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nights-flying-fox · 8 months ago

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TMNT STORY AU COMP COMPETITORS MASTERLIST (@tmntstorycomp )

☆ Danny Phantom ROTTMNT Crossover by @chasingrabbits-art

☆ Love me, Love my Dog. by @tothefiniteyou

☆ We're not babysitters by @theawesomeninja-xd

☆ (Too Many Leos) Put One Back by @beeceit

☆ Mitosis = duplication and separation by @varianlikescheese

☆ The Loyal Remain by @daboyau

☆ Monster Inside the Man by @keepsdrifting

☆ A Tear in my Eye by @cartoonhostage

☆ ERICA by @13runningsomething

☆ Captainx2 by @veearrifarrariboom

☆ Black and brown fur AU by @haro0o

☆ Set a Course for Home by @los-ninos-tortugas

☆ Catch You AU by @mudlarkspur

☆ Same Story Different Font by @tmnt-obsessed-ace

☆ Saviors of the Yokai by @mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles

☆ Everything Stays by @oddpocalypse

☆ Twin-Sync (More Than You Think) by @little-banjo-frog

☆ Dimension Hopper Leo AU by @nights-flying-fox

☆ Inverted Confrontation by @boots-with-the-fur-club

☆ Cardinal Rules by @m0ths-wanderings / @dluebirb

☆ Manhatten: TMNT FARGO AU by @jxstacey [au masterpost]

☆ Universal Mayhem by @trixanimations

☆ Reminiscing that Old Time by @misshowdoyoudo

☆ Old Soul au by @delicatechildwitch

☆ Prime Leo AU by @darth-sonny

☆ TMNT: Broken Trifecta by @genderfluid-envy / @ask-broken-trifecta-turtles

☆ Body Horror Baby by @bambiraptorx

☆ Tiny Lil Fruit Turtles by @mochi-myles

☆ Through Your Hollow Bones au by @idiot-mushroom

☆ One Turtle Short of a Lair by @bucketofbugz

☆ Kitty's TMNT-Verse by @kittynumyum

☆ Shattered Pieces Of The Same Mirror by @xcometstarx

☆ Soulmates (Evil) AU by @error-core-animations

☆ Oh Hades, Let Me Have This by @faggotdonnie

☆ Empathy is Learned by @alicat54c

☆ Teenage Mutant Beetle Turtles by @beetleviolet

☆ Wouldn't it be Easier by @14muffinz

☆ Teenage Turtle Ninja Mutants (ttnm) by @idiot-mushroom

☆ The Birds & the Bees

☆ Two Nardos one dream Sequence by @tinytinyturttlesoup

☆ Sub-Zero AU by @noxvee6

☆ An OC, Echo! by @smol-bean-boi13 & @percy-eats-souls

☆ It's a Complicated Equation by @leilanising-vault-of-knowledge

☆ Good Genes by @lordshroom

☆ A Ghost of the Ninja I Used to Be by @robin-with-a-pen

☆ Sanctuary by @aquietwritingcorner

#tmnt story competition #tmnt competition #idk how to tag this #nighty made a litsty #lol #ok if there is any mistakes of sort please tell me!!#or anything you want me to change

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help-itrappedmyself · 10 months ago

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Sacred Moments (Batman AU) Part 2

Masterpost

The meeting was on the docks, surrounded by shipping containers piled high in maze-like configurations. The gang that called the meeting made their way through the winding tunnels in small black vans, and one sleek black sedan. They got set up, guards exiting the vans and taking up stations, forming a perimeter around the junction. Black mask comes out of the sedan’s backseat to lean against the trunk, waiting for his guest to arrive.

Red Hood had made himself known quickly. Gaining territory and followers in Gotham the way outsiders usually struggle to do for years without making any headway. This place isn’t friendly to outsiders, it takes a special something to make a home here, something that most people only receive by rights of growing up here, making a living on these streets, dealing with the dark heart of Gotham all their lives.

So, though no one truly knew where Hood had come from, Roman knew that he was a Gothamite. Only a Gothamite could so quickly make a home here. Only a Gothamite would be so stupid and crazy as to take a name left by the Joker and make it their own. And while dealing with strangers is difficult, no one in Gotham is truly a stranger to one another. They both have the same streets forming their veins, smog in their blood and toxins in their mouths. Black Mask knows one thing that unites the city is that stupid Wayne boy and the way it translates to the shadows that make up Gotham as greed and power. Almost every big-name player in Gotham has tried at least once to mess with the Wayne family. But Black Mask doesn’t play at the level of holding up galas for pocket change. And though the boy Wayne adopted does make nice catnip for those looking for a ransom, Black Mask has thought bigger. And more dramatic, but he’s from Gotham, drama thrives here.

Red Hood approaches on his bike and the guards let him pass easily. He parks and his boots thud the ground with every step.

“What do you want Mask? We have no shared business.”

“That may be true for now, but you're cutting into the drug trade and I wanted to step in early for territory negotiations.”

“Didn’t peg you for a negotiator.”

“I’m a businessman, and the Alley has a lot of business.” Roman stood up straight, pushing off the car. “I have something here I am willing to give you and in return I’m hoping to be able to sell closer to the Alley than my competitors.”

“I’m not stupid, I know better than to think I can stop the drug trade. But I don’t allow dealings with kids. Not as buyers, not as sellers, not as runners. I don’t think you’ll be able to follow the rules.”

“Your rules have made a nice open market. To be the only one selling to them would be a large increase in profits.”

Hood brings his hands closer to his guns. Roman waves him off.

“There is little need for that, I don’t want any part of your Alley. They can barely afford my goods as it is. Besides, you are highly outnumbered.”

“I don’t negotiate about kids.” Hood growled. “You leave them out of your business or you business stays out of my Alley.”

“Do you negotiate for kids?” Roman smirks. “I mean, you haven’t even asked what I’ve brought you.”

Hood becomes a deathly still, poised like a snake and waiting on a breath, whole body a hairpin trigger. “Do you have a child right now?” There is an amount of shock in his voice, even through the modulator, that Roman takes great amusement in.

Roman hums. “I mean she’s barely a child anymore. Sixteen, and almost seventeen at that.” He clicks his tongue.

“You kidnapped a child.” There is a thud from the trunk behind Roman.

“Ah, it seems she’s awake now.” His grin is slow and syrupy but does nothing to soften the rest of his face. “See, I had to find this girl in particular. Her value lies far beyond the fact that she’s young. But it took a long time to find her. Too long for her to end up being good for what I had planned for her. That Wayne brat died before we found her. But she could still be useful to you, or at the very least you could help her out some. She is very far from home.”

Hood says nothing, his mind racing.

“What’ll it be Hood, you interested? If not, I can alway find a use for her somehow. She won’t be worth as much as I had hoped, but I’m sure Wayne will find her interesting either way.”

“What does she have to do with the Waynes?” Hood asks, an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. Roman is glad to have sparked an interest, this is her main feature. “That brat that the Waynes adopted, the second one, he lived on the street. He was known here, so when he was formally adopted and all the knowledge about him became worth something we decided to find his soulmate. She would have been worth more if the brat was still alive to fight with daddy for her.” Roman frowned at the change in plans, still irritated by the time lost and plans gone to waste. “But she is still a pretty little thing.” Roman shrugs.

“Let me see the mark.” Hood growled out.

“Of course, you can inspect your property before the deal is finalized, but first I would like to talk about returns.”

“What exactly do you want?”

“Your territory, the Bowery and Crime Alley, can be yours.” Roman smirks at Hood. “I know better than to intrude, and your population is too poor to be of much use to me. But your territory is getting close to the university and I want to be able to continue my business there without interference.”

Red Hood’s territory was getting close, he was only a few streets away. The people living at the university would be a good crowd, with enough money to spend on University there’s enough money to spend on drugs. Hood could see why Sionis wanted access to the area. Right now Hood’s territory included a stretch of a few blocks that separated the university from Sionis’s territory and Hood's guys had been keeping his runner’s from passing through. This had ended up with Hood confiscating a fair amount of Sionis’ goods and money from the dealings.

“Show me the girl.” Hood demanded. “And we can discuss your passage through my territory.”

#batman #dc comics #red hood #black mask #jason todd #roman sionis #my writing #fanfiction #soulmate au #soulmate marks

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mlmshipbracket · 1 year ago

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First MLM Tournament Winners!

Completed Bracket

Here are the winners for the first ever MLM Tournament Bracket:

In First Place we have....

SASUNARU!

art by Behindxa

In Second Place we have...

TAAKITZ!

art by bodaciousbasil on tumblr

And in Third Place we have...

SIDLINK!

art by Lukellios on DeviantArt

Congrats to our Top Three winners and all of our competitors. You fought hard and well.

Note from the moderator: I want to thank all of those who voted, commented, reblogged, and tagged posts and polls for this tournament. I also would like to thank those who submitted ships for this tournament. This bracket would not have flourished and succeeded without the participation of the varying fandoms. I hope everyone who participated enjoyed watching the progression of the tournament, whether or not your chosen ship won or lost. Its all in good fun after all. Feel free to reblog or comment on this post. I would love to hear your excitement for your winning ships, lamentations for those who lost, favorite moments, and feedback. Take care to all and I hope to see you around in the future ~

MLM Ship Bracket Masterpost [HERE] Original Match-Up's [HERE] ROUND FIVE (Finals) POLLS (ENDED) [HERE]

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mi6-cafe · 4 months ago

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2024 Fest Masterposts

We know the end of fest can be chaotic and you may have missed some of your fellow competitor’s creations, so here is the complete listing of all the fancreations from 007 fest. (Check out previous year’s here too)

If your masterpost is not linked here, please reply to this post with a link, or otherwise reach out to us.

Anyawen

Arwen88

Ato

BluebellofBakerStreet

BondLocker

Cas

Cicer

Dude

Foxy

Ginger fan

i-eat-your-pancakes

Kitten-kin

L219TJ

SpiritofCamelot

luminiferocity

thestalwartheart

Mel

Mely

Myn

Naq

phinnia

Ruggsie

Tales-of-Whales

#007 Fest 2024 #007 Fest #007 fest masterpost

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redandyellowbracket · 2 years ago

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Welcome to the red and yellow bracket! Inspired by the likes of @purplegreenbracket, @blueandorangebracket, @blackandpinkbracket, @purpleandyellowshowdown, @blueandyellowbracket, @redandgreenpoll, etc. and run by @moonknightproductions. Submit your favorite red/yellow duos and/or characters here! Any type of relationship is allowed except for pedo/incest/etc. Edit: NOT ALL OF THE RELATIONSHIPS PRESENTED IN THE POLL ARE ROMANTIC. In fact, some are platonic or even familial, as is the case with the Sides. Non-poll stuff will be tagged with #Moon Speaks.

Banned fandoms: Harry Potter (because it’d be way too easy and it’s controversial/actively harmful), South Park (why is there even a fandom for it), Danganronpa, and I reserve the right not to include a character/duo even if it meets submission requirements.

Season 2 submissions closed!

Rules:

Be mindful of others, this is supposed to be fun. Please don't harass/send threats/etc. to anyone involved. Anon WILL be turned off if this rule is not followed.

Art/propaganda is allowed, and must be tagged with #red and yellow bracket. Alternatively, feel free to @ me in your pieces! I'll also reblog any additions to the polls. This will be tagged #redyellowpropaganda (no spaces). Non-propaganda asks will be tagged with #Talking to the Moon. The polls themselves will be tagged with #tournament poll in addition to the #red and yellow bracket-specific tag for easier finding.

Competitors are paired up by franchise/vibes (e.g. Aradia and Sollux vs. Karkat and Sollux). Will probably shuffle each side's matchups for each round after the first.

Previous polls are listed below the cut in masterposts.

Round 1

Round 2

Round 3

Semifinals

Finals

Our current victor(s):

Dick Simmons and Dexter Grif! Congrats, you imposters!

#red and yellow bracket #Tumblr polls #rules and regulations #Moon Speaks #asks will be tagged as talking to the moon (cuz I'm Moon lol)#I tried my best for fair matchups #Season 2

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companion-showdown · 4 months ago

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Which character is most likely to wander off?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

#stray companions: round 1

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ceilidhtransing · 6 months ago

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If you're eligible to vote in the upcoming UK general election, please for the love of god vote against the Tories

The 2024 Conservative manifesto is a total disaster for LGBTQ rights, particularly those of trans, nonbinary and intersex people.

A smattering of fun things they plan to do if elected:

Change the Equality Act such that the “sex” category only means “biological sex”, thus removing discrimination protections for trans and nonbinary people

Codify that an individual “can only have one sex in the eyes of the law”, denying nonbinary people the right to have their gender legally recognised

Force teachers to follow recent government guidance that bans discussion of gender identity in schools and outs gender-questioning kids to their parents

Ban gender-neutral healthcare terminology like “chest-feeding” or “birthing parent”

Legislate to permanently prevent the private prescription of puberty blockers for trans, nonbinary and questioning youth

That last one is a biggie. You read it right - they have already banned any new prescriptions for puberty blockers on the NHS; now they want to make it illegal to even access them privately, through services like GenderGP or YourGP or GenderCare or any other non-NHS provider. I'm sure I don't need to detail at length how devastating this would be to so many young people and their families.

And aside from these specific promises, this section of their manifesto is full of transphobic dogwhistles like “biological sex is a reality” and that a ban on conversion therapy is a “complex issue”.

So please, if you're eligible to vote on 4 July, go and vote against the Tories. No, I'm not saying you therefore “have to vote Labour”; there are plenty of valid reasons you might not want to vote for that party either, and you may well live in a constituency where Labour is not the primary competitor to the Conservatives anyway. But if you don't want to vote Labour - totally fair - at least go vote Liberal Democrat. Or Green. Or SNP. Or Plaid Cymru. Or something else that isn't this flaming binbag of rabid transphobes. I have a whole election masterpost pinned to the top of my blog that directs you to registering to vote, making sure you have the right ID, and finding out about anti-Tory tactical voting if that's something that you're interested in. If you're not already registered to vote, you have until midnight on 18 June to do so.

And I know that everyone is already saying with certainty that the Conservatives will face electoral wipeout this year. But it's a genuine risk that too many people will just take this for granted and not bother to vote because “the Tories aren't going to win anyway”, so they end up sneaking through with far more seats than expected because of crashingly low voter turnout. We can't just rest on our laurels here. Please do your small part to deny any more power to this hateful nightmare of a political party.

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indieswag-competition · 2 years ago

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Indie Game Character Swag Competition!

Masterpost here!

Post propaganda to #indieswagcomp or @ me!

Rules and Info:

Matchups will be decided via randomization and a bit of my personal picks

A 50/50 tie means both characters move on and a sudden revival poll runs to bring back one fallen character to continue the challenge

Polls will last for 24 hours, so be sure to make it on time

Remember, vote for your favorites

BE NICE TO EACH OTHER. All these characters made it in for a reason. This is a friendly fun voting competition, not a deadly warzone

Here are our starting 32 competitors:

Mae Borowski (Night in the Woods)

Loam Arnault (Entropic Float: This World Will Decay and Disappear)

Nugget (Kindergarten)

Sal Fisher (Sally Face)

Rouxls Kaard (Deltarune)

Zagreus (Hades)

Chloe Price (Life is Strange)

Monika (Doki Doki Literature Club)

The Knight (Hollow Knight)

Six (Little Nightmares 1 and 2)

Sunny (OMORI)

Crewmate (Among Us)

The Goose (Untitled Goose Game)

Kel (OMORI)

Baba (Baba is You)

Gregg Lee (Night in the Woods)

Stella (Spiritfarer)

Garry (Ib)

Sebastian (Stardew Valley)

Niko (OneShot)

Kris Dreemurr (Deltarune)

Madeline (Celeste)

Sara Chidouin (Your Turn To Die)

V1 (ULTRAKILL)

Slugcat (Rain World)

Hat Kid (A Hat in Time)

Ori (Ori series)

Hornet (Hollow Knight)

Stanley (Stanley Parable)

Krobus (Stardew Valley)

Mono (Little Nightmares 2)

Webber (Don't Starve)

#polls

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divine-swag-summit · 1 year ago

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CONGRATULATIONS TO MADOKA KANAME FOR WINNING THE 2023 DIVINE SWAG SUMMIT!!!!

In a tournament with so many competitors, it's truly an impressive win! Though maybe I should've expected her to sweep since this is literally the gay people website? Still, congratulations to Madoka for being the swaggiest fictional god-like being!

Congratulations to the Axolotl for getting second place! I gotta say, a giant space axolotl is pretty swaggy.

And congratulations to Palutena for her third place win! She may have lost her first match but she clawed her way through the Losers Bracket and straight to the Finale! What a comeback!

Also, shoutout to all the other competitors for being here! There were tons of characters that I didn't even know existed, and I loved reading your explanations for every submission! You guys sure do love your blorbos!

This was so fun that I've decided that I wanna make this an annual thing, so I'll see you all next year!

Also, if you wanna see the full bracket of this past tournament, here's a link to the masterpost!

#divine wisdom #divineswagsummit2023

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asordinaryppl · 3 months ago

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A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 15: PAINFUL RE:BAKE - Episode 32: Wolves

Kumon: 3Q’s ranking will be uploaded any minute now!! What do we do!?

Azami: There’s nothing we can do now.

Kazunari: It’s all G! “Picaresque Returns” has been getting good reviews online, we’re definitely moving up in the rankings.

Banri: Well, all we can do is wait for the results, let’s rest a lil.

Juza: We did all we could.

Sakyo: There’s no point in worrying about it now.

Taichi: My audition pilgrimage prepared me for this exact moment, bring it on~!

Omi: The boscaiola pizza and pumpkin pizza are ready~

Tsumugi: The Autumn Troupe are all sort of calm.

Homare: That goes to show they know just how much they put into their play, yes?

Itaru: It’s up. MANKAI Company is–

Taichi: 11th! That’s an improvement!

Sakyo: But still not enough to qualify.

Banri: Damn, so close.

Tsumugi: I think this is a good enough improvement considering how many strong competitors we have.

Omi: Furinkazan and GOD-za both ranked higher too.

Juza: Exactly what you’d expect of ‘em.

Azami: And Hyakka Troupe’s 7th.

Banri: For real? And here he was talking about them falling off last time…

Omi: Isn’t this thanks to you two appearing as guests?

Sakyo: So you ended up helping the enemy…

Azami: We ranked up too, I’d say it’s alright.

Banri: Still, we can’t let our guard down in 4Q. All the talented troupes are gettin’ a hang of things and increasin’ their ranking.

Juza: Well, the baton’s in the Winter Troupe’s hands now.

Taichi: Right! Tonight we celebrate~!

Juza: Hm…

Sakyo: You’re savoring that drink, huh?

Juza: Azuma-san brought a bunch of sweet drinks, and I couldn’t help myself.

Juza: But, y’know, Settsu’s actin’ was real good today. ‘t was fun to stand next to him.

Juza: Feels like I totally understand what being partners with someone means…

Banri: Pfff! So honest! Don’t make me laugh. This is why I hate it when you drink.

Taichi: They’re both drunk~

Sakyo: Settsu's a merry drunk as usual…

Azami: Hard to believe they’re the same guys pulling off crazy action stunts on stage.

Omi: That reminds me… I’ve got an update to report to you all regarding the workshop.

Omi: Zen-san and I plan on making it a regular thing starting with the third one.

Omi: We’re also thinking of increasing the frequency, so we’re going to ask some of the Wolf members to help with the management.

Sakyo: Good idea. The Autumn Troupe and Yuzo-san might not be enough if that’s your plan

Izumi: The Action Workshop will also be in high demand from the cast members of Zen-san’s shop, so I think it’s a good idea.

Azami: There were lots more participants in the third one, too.

Omi: And I was also thinking of offering boarding like I did to Keiku the first time around, so that more kids like him with no place to go would come, but–

Omi: When I talked to Zen-san about this, he said it’d be better if we created a group for it. I’ve decided to call it “Wolves”.

Taichi: Ohh~! It’s like, the newborn Wolves!

Omi: I’ve realized that what I truly want to do is give a place to belong to those who don’t have that.

Omi: So, I don’t want to do this half-heartedly… I want to devote my life to it.

Azami: I think that’s good. It’s a choice that suits you.

Sakyo: Right. This is something you can do exactly because of who you are.

Banri: I’m sure there’s a lotta people who’ll be saved by a place like that.

Omi: In the end, I truly prefer working for other people’s sake rather than my own. I can give it my all that way.

Omi: I was worried that’d mean I wouldn’t be facing myself, but…

Omi: Now I can proudly puff out my chest and say that doing something for someone else benefits myself, too.

Juza: All of us will be rooting for you.

Taichi: Let us know if we can help in any way!

Izumi: This is your big, new challenge, Omi-kun.

Omi: Yeah. ... I swear I’ll see it through.

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

#a3!#translation #a3! translation #banri settsu #juza hyodo #taichi nanao #omi fushimi #sakyo furuichi #azami izumida #izumi tachibana #+ more

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clatoera · 1 year ago

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Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 2: Barefoot in the Wildest Winter, Catching my Death

Heeeeeey. Welcome back, I call this a mini chapter. It's still almost 3400 words. Thats insane of me. This chapter is

Clove centric/ Clato

20 months after the war/ 7 after the epilogue of ARWBFB

Ironic because the starbucks I wrote this in was so cold my fingers were fucking numb, which you will understand the irony of once you read it.

This is not..intense. It's just a palate cleanser after the Glimmer Prequel I posted this week. I think everyone needed it. I honestly wrote it because we got 10 inches of snow last week and currently are getting multiple more inches as we speak.

Anyway!

Chapter title from Evermore (Taylor Swift)

Masterpost

AO3

Theres also a good bit of cashmere/enobaria mentioned in honor of @bodyelectric77 giving me brain amoebas. I'm just going to tag @kentwells because this whole sequel is your fault. Anyway! Love y'all! love the besties! love everyone! ( I just..love love),

By virtue of the location, the widespread villages littering the biggest mountain range in Panem like sprinkles atop a cupcake, District Two gets substantial snowfall. The kind of snow that allows an extra industry for capitol elites to come and pretend to live like a district citizen in a heated, maintained cabin on the mountainsides, where people can party and celebrate the simplicity of a winter snow in the way that only someone who doesn’t have to worry about keeping heat on can do.

If you were a child in the district without the commitment (Privilege? Curse?) of training, you could celebrate heavy snowfall with snowball fights followed by hot chocolate with your friends in one of your living rooms. If you were a trainee, a possible tribute, snow meant drills in the cold, running despite snow reaching your knees, agility trials on ice. If you were a trainee with just enough of a rebellious streak, snowfall meant you snuck out with the other kids in your class and rode makeshift sleds down the hills otherwise used for terrain testing. And if you were a trainee that got caught, snow meant laying on your back in a bank of it, in shorts and t-shirts, until your skin burned and your body ached. If you were the right kind of District Two training kid- the punishment was worth the glimmer of childhood you got to experience.

The snow was not even the worst part– District Two was extremely cold. Not the type of cold where the cute jackets and scarves produced in District Eight would be sufficient, but the type of bone chilling cold that it was a miracle the majority of the population did not freeze to death by the end of a particularly bad winter. The academy just factored the weather into training– figuring out ways to layer, to stay warm, how to get rest in these types of conditions, and how to keep at peak performance despite below freezing temperatures. The embarrassment of a tribute losing because they lost grip on a weapon (“because of the weather” is an unacceptable excuse), is deeply ingrained in any child who has gone through training in District Two. They considered it to be a privilege to train in such harsh conditions, a leg up on competitors of how to deal with what could be thrown on them in the arena. Weather was not an excuse for failure.

Clove, of course, knows these things. Years later she can handle Brutus’s remarks about her clumsy frozen fingers almost ending her life, but at the time it was an insecurity that was fortunately never addressed due to the scandal of her long-term hidden relationship and accompanying secrets coming to the surface.

Despite her games being a literal arctic blizzard, the snow and the cold had not bothered Clove in the immediate after her games. Sure, there were times where if she closed her eyes long enough on her porch that it felt like she was back in the arena for the briefest of seconds. However the heat of adrenaline that rushed to her chest brought her right back, and when her eyes would fly open and land on her Victor’s Village yard she’d be snapped back into her new reality. A reality of survival and victory.

She was even somewhat fond of the snow, with the recollections of childhood, of times her and Cato had snuck out back in the dead of night to “practice” in the wintry conditions.

“If it weren’t for your hair you’d blend right in.” Cato teased, but his hands slipping under her arms and knees revealed that he meant business. He tossed her, as hard as he possibly could, into an adjacent snow bank, where her tiny teenage body did indeed slip under the entirety of the pile. The fifteen year old girl would have in fact blended in if not for the deep espresso color of her hair. And the constellation of freckles all over her skin. And the deep evergreen color of her eyes. None of which, Cato knew, were normal details to notice about one’s training partner.

The brief distraction would always be enough for Clove to grab him around the ankle, pull his feet out from under him, and bring him tumbling down right into the snow beside her.

They’d always sneak back in with icicles in their hair, water dripping off their clothes as the snow melted away, and a redness that danced across both of their noses and cheeks. Sometimes the only thing that could properly warm them up after was sharing the same dorm room bed, with snide remarks from Clove about how he may as well be a human heater. While those remarks may be snide, they were never a complaint that is.

It wasn’t snow after her games that bothered her, and truthfully, last winter hadn’t even been too terrible. Maybe somewhere, some cosmic control of the universe decided the people of District Two (realistically, the people of all of Panem) had suffered enough the previous year during the war. A couple of inches here or there, temperatures that dropped but never quite hit that bone chilling type of cold they were so familiar with. It was cold but not cruelly so, and that was nothing short of a miracle considering how many District Two citizens were displaced and without housing as a result of the rebels’ bombing. Those signature temperature dip and the blizzards would have been catastrophic to a district that was already facing such immense population loss.

Now, over a year and a half since the conclusion of the war, brutal weather was back to strike their home with a bite.

Multiple feet of snow combined with temperatures plummeting to near zero, both confirmed what Clove knew was coming: Winter in District Two was back with a vengeance.

While Cato had been thrilled to have a classic District Two winter; to take his little sister sled riding, to introduce her to hot chocolate and the power of a hot bowl of soup at the end of a day in the cold (courtesy, of course, of Clove), Clove had truthfully been dreading the impending storm.

The cold, quite frankly, hurt.

It did not hurt from the biting sting of cold wind against flesh or because of tingling fingers and ears from too long outside; no, it hurt deep in her body, in every single movement of her joints. It hurt like her skeleton was crackling, like the marrow inside her bones itself was forming ice crystals that shattered with her movement. It wasn’t just the flexion of her fingers and shoulders that hurt at this point. It hurts to exist. It felt like her ribs were cracking with the expansion of her lungs. With every step, a dull pain inside of her hip sockets begged her to stop moving and just rest. She hadn’t been prepared for every joint that had been dislocated and every healed fracture to remind her that she was never truly going to be able to heal from what Snow had done to her.

Clove, for the first time, understood what they meant when they called it bone cold. And holy shit did it hurt.

She tried the rational and logical ways to warm up. She tried a shower with water so hot it should have blistered her skin off, but only slightly brought her down from the feeling of ice in her veins. She layered on two, three of Cato’s already oversized sweatshirts, swimming in layers of clothes that made her look like a child playing dress up without any warmth radiating deeper than her skin. She had laid in bed, weighed down by a comforter plus another ten pounds of throw blankets, that didn't even touch the ache inside her.

All this is to say that Clove tried a lot before her desperation for any comfort resulted in her current position. On the floor…in front of the fireplace… both on top of and underneath the same ten plus pounds of blankets she had dragged downstairs with her. Even this, the combination of blankets, heat, and Cato’s clothes were only enough to slightly tamper down the ache.

Still, it was apparently just enough for her to fall asleep that way, because the next thing Clove knows, she’s being gently shaken awake with a foot on her shoulder hearing the panicked whispers of “Babe….babe…Clove..babe…Clove..are you alive?” That can only possibly come from Cato, who is insistently shaking her awake. “Clove?”

“Hmmm?” Clove murmurs, peaking one eye open to glance up at the man oh so kindly waking her. He stands over her, flecks of snow melting on the tips of his hair, cold water running off the black waterproof fabric of his coat and onto her face all the way down where she lays under him. “Move back, you’re making me colder.”

“Are you okay?” He nudges her again, but kneels down to closer to the same height as her. He reaches out with an ungloved hand, and the second his icy fingers touch her face Clove recoils into her blanket shell. From this height Clove can see the redness along his cheeks and over his nose that makes him look closer to twelve than twenty three. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I’m cold Cato, and it really fucking hurts.” She whines, tucking her hands into the blankets with her. “I can’t get warm.”

“Right..okay…did you try the bed–”

“Do you think I laid on our living room floor without trying the bed first?”

“Okay, what about those really hot baths you like, I can take you-”

“Cato. I tried it. This is all that helps.” Clove whimpers, rolling from her back onto her side, facing the blaze in the fireplace.

“I’ll be back just… Give me like..fifteen minutes.” Cato stands, and is already taking long strides upstairs before Clove even gets a moment to ask where he’s going.

She lays there for what feels like years in the glow of the fireplace, in the warmth it irradiates and the minimal relief it provides. She feels the presence of him behind her, the light tugging of her blankets, before she sees him.

“Don’t unwrap me, Cato, I’m warm-” Clove protests, but when she feels large, warm hands sliding under her layers and practically wrapping around her torso she melts. “You’re warm, oh my god.”

She doesn’t see him smirk, but knows him well enough to know he is, before he twists her to face him with the easiest twist of his wrists. He flashes her a grin, before pulling her flush against his bare, warm chest. Clove notices, absently, the way his wet hair falls just over his forehead how it did only in the immediate time after he showered until it dried.

“I’d prefer hot but I'll take it.” Cato taunts lightly as Clove buries her cheek against his chest, right over where his heart. “Comfy?” He teases, and a furrowed brow and a single narrowed green eye looks up at him in protest.

“Very.” Clove sighs, curling into him as his hands travel along the skin of her back and bringing heat with them. “You’re like a personal heater.”

“You could have called me, Clove…” Cato reminds her, tucking one leg over both of hers, using as much surface area contact as he could to bring her relief. “I would have come home.”

“You were with your sister, I wasn’t going to interrupt.” She doesn’t mention the embarrassment, the humiliation even, that she felt at the newest physical reminder of her time in the Capitol. A girl who used to love the snow, who loved the cold, now in pain greater than she’d ever admit to her husband. There were some things she didn’t even want him to know– her reduced pain tolerance, being one of them.“How did she like it?”

“She loved it!” Cato lights up, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes as he recounts his afternoon playing with his little sister. “Mom about killed me when she found out I was letting her go down the hill alone, but she had fun. No bones were broken.”

“Mmm, remember that time we found a trash can lid, and I sat on your lap as we went down that big hill behind the training center in the middle of the night?” Clove muses, freeing her hands from her blankety protection and tucking them against his abs. She holds back a giggle at the way he flinches away from her cold touch, his muscle flexing under her fingertips.

“You mean when we slammed into the brick wall and thought you broke your nose? And the giant bruise on my forehead that looked like you decked me with the handle of your knife?” Cato muses, wrapping Clove even tighter in his grasp, smiling to himself when he realizes that all the layers she used to try to insulate herself are his. “Of course I remember.”

“Your entire body weight landed on me and crushed me into the wall, yeah, I thought I was broken.” She wants to lift her head to scowl at him, but she is simply too warm, too comfortable, too safe right now to care. “You were giant, then, too.”

“We’re just lucky it was Brutus that punished us, not Enobaria.” There is a fond smile on his face as he thinks back to what cannot even be considered a simpler time –surely, laying on the living room floor with his wife, no games in sight, was far simpler than being fourteen and grasping for a glimpse of childhood– but certainly a nostalgic memory.

“Lucky? He made us run four miles barefoot, Cato. I would have taken whatever Enobaria was going to throw at us.” Clove tucked her icy feet against his for emphasis, and Cato actually flinched out of the way that time. “See? You still don’t like cold feet.”

“Speaking of Enobaria…doesn’t she have that hot tub, why didn’t you go over? She’s in One isn’t she? You would have had it to yourself…” One would have thought, twenty months into sharing custody of Enobaria with Cashmere and District One, they’d have gotten used to her schedule, used to her not always being readily available at their beck and call.

So many things had kept Enobaria in District Two, of course, in the past thirty some years of her life. Be it the limitations of interdistrict travel, the secret nature of her relationship with Cashmere (who had her own limitations, of course, considering the extent of the Capitol’s influence and abuse on her for over a decade), her commitments to her district and training, or maybe even Clove. Many reasons had existed to keep the Victor woman home, and now in the dawn of a new country, Enobaria had taken her well deserved freedoms.

Of course, that did not mean that they could keep track of her.

Some may go as far to say that Clove, Cato, and even Brutus, missed her sometimes.

Not that a single one of them would ever utter those words to her.

“I thought about it.” Clove sighs, turning her face to press the other cheek against his skin, equally warming her face. “But they’re actually here, I guess they’re here for a while…until Glimmer has the baby. Cash wants to stay in One for a few extra months straight after, I guess, so they’re making up time here for now. And I did not want to interrupt something over there again, especially not in the hot tub…” She shutters, not from the cold this time but from a distasteful memory that she clearly has brought to the surface. “Besides…I didn’t really want to go outside.”

“It’s kind of funny that Enobaria and Cashmere act like kids with divorced parents…back and forth back and forth to split their time evenly. Why don’t they just stay here?” Cato raises an eyebrow, a coy smile on his face. “District Two is obviously the better option.”

“Cashmere can’t leave her brother and sister, you know that. And she’s definitely not leaving now that Glimmer’s gonna have a whole kid soon.” Not just a kid, a little girl, a fact that Clove had to hear from Glimmer multiple times a day. “It would arguably make more sense for her to move to One if we’re suggesting permanent moving..and you know she isn’t going to leave here.”

“Enobaria would never survive with a neighbor named Rhinestone.”

Clove’s laugh is muffled against his chest, but he’s right. Splitting their time, like kids traveling between homes on holidays, was going to be their best bet. It didn’t make it any less funny, to imagine the mentor they all know and love spending half her time there.

Her laugh fades as her smile falls, and Clove can’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I have to lay on the floor like this, I know it isn’t comfortable.”

“Clove..”

“I’m serious. This is just another new weakness, I guess. Just another thing Snow took from me.”

Cato’s hand slips off the skin of her back and Clove bites back a groan at the loss of warmth, before his hand holds the exposed side of her face. He doesn’t force her to look at him, simply strumming his thumb along her cheekbone. “Clove? I will bring the mattress down here, and we can sleep in front of this fireplace for the rest of Winter, hell, for the rest of our lives if it makes you feel even the slightest bit better. You aren’t weak, babe. I don’t even know if I could have survived what you did. You were tortured. And if this is how winter is going to go, this is how we’re going to survive it. Together.”

The composure she had tried so hard to maintain crumbles like the facade it is, and the gasping breath she takes startles Cato to the point that he has to look down at her.

“It hurts to breathe, Cato. My lungs hurt and my ribs hurt and it hurts to move and it hurts to bend my fingers. It’s like I'm frozen inside and it hurts.” Clove gasps out, burying her face firmly in the center of his chest. “I didn’t think i’d be in this much pain because of some fucking weather.”

Hurt. Pain. Neither words that Clove would ever admit to, not to anyone else in the world. To anyone but Cato, they made her a target, they made her vulnerable, and they made her weak.

“I know, Clove. I know.” He admits, bringing his hand back down to her side, warming her up from the inside of her shirts. “I wish I could take it for you.”

I wish I could take it for you.

What a gesture that is, in District Two, where pain makes you weak and vulnerable. To be willing to carry that burden, to take on that proverbial target. Only among District Two, would the admission of pain and the subsequent willingness to take it be such a marker of love.

“I just feel like someone could take me out so easily and i’m so useless right now and-”

“Noone’s coming after us. Noone’s going to take us out. And if they were, I think I’ve got it covered. I’m a Victor, too, you know.” Cato promises, bringing his lips down to kiss the top of her head, where she is nearly trying to burrow into his skin for the warmth he so readily provides. “I’ve got us, Clove. Pretend it’s my turn to keep watch in the games, okay? Sleep…relax..I’ve got us.”

“Am I gonna get a turn?” Clove nearly teases, and he can feel her lips quirking into a smile against his skin.

He snorts, and somehow manages to pull her closer. “Once a snowman isn’t your biggest opponent, sure.”

The pinch he feels on his side is enough for him to know that she was going to be just fine.

#clato #cato and clove #arwbfb au #arwbfb tag #always remember we're burned for better tag #clato fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #clato fanfiction #clato tag #clove tag #cato tag #cashmere and enobaria #cashbaria tag #arwbfb sequel #pfsk tag #picket fences sharp as knives tag

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