#and get in right under the wire. it's a couple hours before midnight still in my time zone

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 7: The Sail

Chapter 41

Squad 451 is in danger. Peeta is here, not handcuffed, and carrying a gun. And we’re in the Capitol with all its pods, the tributes of the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games, seven victors, six of whom have already been in the arena twice.

This just isn’t fair.

Still, they keep us far from the front lines, shooting glass out of windows and sometimes setting off “safe” pods—simple explosives, razor wire snares, tracker jackers, stuff we know how to avoid and contain that will nevertheless look good on camera. But the focus is on us. A squad of victors and professional soldiers. We are here because we know how to kill and we will look good doing it. And because the rebels can’t afford to lose their Mockingjay and their flock of stars to a part of the war that is actually dangerous.

Until now. Peeta is here, and we’re all aware of how dangerous things have suddenly become.

Boggs leaves to make what I’m guessing is a very angry phone call. He comes back and has what it looks like he wants us to think is a quiet conversation with Katniss when in reality they are speaking normally and we can all hear them.

Coin no longer needs Katniss alive, and she has put us all in danger to make Katniss her martyr.

But Boggs is right. None of us would immediately say Coin when asked who should lead after the war, so to her we are all a threat. If Peeta kills the rest of us before he can get to Katniss, Coin will breathe a sigh of relief.

Finnick and I step closer together as Peeta looks around at the group. Finnick still hasn’t quite gotten over his dig, and I don’t want to find myself going up against Peeta, knowing how strong he is.

Jackson sets up a guard schedule for the newly-handcuffed Peeta, but gone are those early days in the Capitol, chatting and laughing and shooting out the glass in the windows. It feels real again.

I guard from midnight to two with Leeg 2 and Gloss. Leeg 2 asks us about our home districts, and we are only too happy to tell her. Two hours pass quickly. When Alvan, Gale, and Leeg 1 replace us at two, I ease Finnick out of the cocoon he’s made with my half of the blankets and snuggle in next to him.

We’re not meant for winter in the Capitol, we kids from Four. There is snow in the air, and my ears just aren’t designed for this nonsense. Alvan has been stoically sleeping by himself, but Finnick and I have no such compunctions. We’re also not used to sleeping outside, ever, other than the arena, unlike Alvan, who says part of cowboying is sleeping out under the stars. But he makes it sound so romantic and invigorating and beautiful, and really it’s just cold.

Finnick mumbles something in his sleep, scoots closer, pulls the blanket up to his ears.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

“Real or not real?” Peeta says, pulling his knees to his chest, rocking.

“Real,” Katniss says.

I pull the blanket closer around my shoulders. “Was I like that?”

Finnick nods. “For a while. Remember after we got back from your Victory Tour?”

“You mean when I went full-sails crazy and they cancelled it?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. You couldn’t quite keep things straight, so I told you to just ask. I didn’t mind telling you what was real and what wasn’t.”

Truthfully, I don’t remember that part of it. I just remember months of miserable haze. But that does sound like something Finnick would have done as he tried to help me along.

I shrug. “I don’t remember doing that.”

“You did. Probably for a couple of months, until you evened out a little.” He looks out at Peeta. “That’s all he needs. Somebody to tell him what’s real and what’s not.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Shooting these propos can be fun. Like today, when Cressida wants close-ups of everyone as we react to the bomb from the pod we just set off on purpose, and to make sure everything looks perfect, she even sets off a few smoke bombs so we have appropriately-dramatic backgrounds.

Alvan, for all his skills and as seriously as he takes all his jobs, is not a good actor. Watching him trying to recreate his initial bombing face is hilarious, and Homes, Mitchell, and Jackson aren’t much better. Even Boggs is laughing as he backs up a few steps closer to one of the side buildings. The laugh is still on his face when that bomb throws him across the street.

I was better. I really was. Back in Thirteen, I had gone eight days without a blackout, and that was only separated from the previous four days by a few minutes at supper one night when they actually served us shrimp and I remembered Dad and Beck exchanging sauce recipes for spicy shrimp rolls. But now…

I do not know beyond flashes of sensation. Cannons boom to announce the dead. Peeta raises his unloaded gun to bash Katniss’s head in. The ground shakes, the arena floods, a black wave crashes toward us. I am running after Elsie, chasing the buffalo. I am running after Finnick, chasing Cashmere, fleeing the floodwaters.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Caesar Flickerman is talking to me. That can’t be right, I already did my interview. Years ago. Or yesterday.

There is the slightest pause, and now Finnick is talking quietly. “I’m thinking hardwood floors. They’re easier to clean, and we’ve got Johanna to hook us up with the best. Carpet in the bedrooms though. I didn’t know how much I hated getting up to non-carpeted floors until Thirteen. Brrr. Something sandy-colored.”

I look up. Sure enough, Caesar Flickerman is on TV, just in the corner, watching a live report of Peacekeepers digging through a street that looks like it’s been dipped in black paint. They have two bodies.

I look at Finnick.

He smiles, looking more relieved than actually happy. “Hey. I thought I lost you there for a minute.”

I shake my head, trying to clear the confused fog. “No. I said I’d stay with you, and that’s what I’m doing.”

He nods. “That’s my Tiger Shark.” Then he passes me a can of food. “Crab,” he grins. “And pineapple for dessert.”

I open the can and eat in silence. I want to ask what happened, but just looking around the room—we are in what I would guess is the living room of a Capitol apartment—it wasn’t good. I don’t see Boggs, Messalla, or Mitchell. Now that I’m thinking about it, I do vaguely remember someone tackling Peeta when he tried to kill Katniss. Probably Mitchell.

That makes me wonder why Peeta is still here. He’s sitting on a couch on the other side of the room, handcuffed and crushing a pillow against his chest, looking like he’s in agony. Pollux and Cashmere seem to be on guard duty. Everyone else is sleeping.

Slowly, I frown at Finnick over my canned crab. I move my hand to sit on his knee and start tapping. It’s dark outside, from what I can see through a crack in the window shades, and I don’t want to wake the others. Why are we not back at camp?

His hand rests on mine. Boggs gave Katniss the Holo. She told everyone she’s on a secret mission from Coin to assassinate Snow and Cressida is here to film it. It’s a lie, but we went along with it. Can’t speak for the others, but I believe she’s going to kill Snow, and I’m going to help get her there. He pauses, looks at me with an apology in his eyes. Sorry you didn’t have a choice. We couldn’t backtrack right away anyway, and it’s too late now.

I nod. That’s alright. I’m staying with you.

Finnick’s arm wraps around my shoulders as I start on the pineapple. I don’t have to see his fingers to know that pattern of taps. I love you.

I love you too, I tap on his leg. Get some sleep.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We go into the sewers. Nobody likes it. For one thing, the spaces are small for regular people. People like Gloss and Finnick and me and Cashmere and Gale would bang their heads on every exposed pipe. I speak from experience, and we soon learn to walk with one hand held at eye level in front of us, to brush the pipes and warn us of impending contact.

People like Gloss and Castor and Pollux would be almost too broad-shouldered for some of the crawl spaces. Even after Castor and Pollux shed their armor of camera equipment, their shoulders barely fit through some of the gaps.

We soldier on for hours, hurrying our careful way through the maintenance tunnels that Pollux knows his way around so well, from five years of working and living in them. There are less pods down here, but still enough that we need to be careful.

We make good time though. Good enough that late in the afternoon, Katniss and Jackson agree to a stop. We need rest, even if it’s only for a few hours. Everyone is exhausted and on edge, and I’m not the only one who settles against the wall with a weapon in my hand. But unlike Jackson with her gun, I clutch one of my spears, in its collapsed, shank form in one hand, and Finnick’s free hand in the other. His other hand holds his trident, also ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

He doesn’t talk, just kisses my forehead. For once, the Box actually prepared someone for combat. It’s me, and this mission requires as much silence as possible. Thanks to the stupid Box, I know I can do it. I’ll hate it the whole time, but I’ll do it.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

“Wake up.” Someone is shaking me. “Get up!”

I blink, sit up. It’s Katniss. “Get Finnick!” she hisses, moving on to Gloss on my other side.

I wake up Finnick.

“It’s me. I’m alright, you’re alright.”

He calms back down as Leeg 2 says, “Don’t make that promise just yet.”

At first I’m not sure what has Katniss so riled, as she wakes us all, then starts whispering furiously to Castor and Pollux. Then, when there is a pause as Pollux signs something to Castor, I realize what it is.

It is no longer silent in the maintenance tunnels.

“Katniss, Katniss, Katniss,” come the whispers.

My skin crawls.

“Katniss, Katniss, Katniss.”

“Follow Pollux!” Cressida hisses.

No one needs telling twice.

Pollux ducks out the door and takes off at a sprint down the hallway. Leeg 1 is right behind him, followed by Katniss, Peeta, Alvan, Cashmere, Gale, Leeg 2. Finnick pulls me after him, Gloss hard on our heels.

The hissing whispers have stopped.

There are wordless screams echoing up from behind us.

Pollux leads us through the tunnels like one second lost means certain death. Eventually, the screams die down and the whispers start again.

“Katniss, Katniss, Katniss.”

We explode into one of the supply train stations in the Transfer, well-lit and clean. Before we can cross it to the other side and the doorway we need, the whispers catch us.

From the other end of the station, the pale mutts appear, scaly and horrible and almost human-shaped and whispering.

“Katniss, Katniss, Katniss. Katniss!”

They lurch toward us.

It’s all I can do to keep from screaming.

An arrow shoots past, smacks the floor halfway between us and the lizard mutts, activates a pod. The floor opens up into a huge meat grinder.

“Run!” Katniss screams.

This feels familiar, as we sprint through the tunnels. The sheer terror, the hand around my wrist, dragging me along, the screams of “Run! Run, go!” It’s just like the mist in the arena. The whole Capitol is the arena now.

We reach a walkway over a flaming, reeking cesspool of something too terrible to describe. Pollux waves us along it and we follow Katniss. I realize I haven’t seen Jackson or Homes for a while now.

At the end of the walkway is a ladder and a smaller tunnel branching away into the darkness. Pollux gestures us up. Leeg 2 slings her gun and leaps up the ladder like a lizard. Cressida follows, then Peeta, as the rest of us circle up.

I realize I haven’t seen Castor for a while either.

A bomb arrow from Katniss’s bow takes out the front mutts, but their fellows just scramble over them and keep coming.

“Katniss, go!” Finnick snaps.

She starts to hesitate, but Leeg 1 grabs her and drags her to the ladder.

“Promise me somethin’,” Alvan says as those of us left waiting our turns square up in the tunnel around the ladder, shooting the encroaching mutts. Our bullets do very little damage, and I don’t want to let them get close enough to see if my spears do any better.

“Promise me you’ll be happy. You’ll live your life, sail your boat, swim in the ocean.”

I stare at him.

“What?”

It’s like we’re both under water. All I hear is the thrum of words. Someone’s boot bumps my shoulder as they start up the ladder.

Alvan’s voice is harder, more determined, pleading. “Promise me, Annie. Promise me you’ll be happy.”

“When we win.” My voice is calm, but there’s panic rising in my chest. Why does he need-

Alvan looks at Cashmere. Looks at her like she’s the world. She looks back, jaw set. Looks at him like he’s everything. They step closer to each other.

“No!” I grab at Alvan. Someone else grabs the back of my uniform and hauls me up the first two rungs of the ladder. “No, no, no! Alvan!”

But he says nothing. He shoots me one last look. One last look that says, “I chose this. I need you to choose to keep going.”

Alvan takes his jobs very seriously.

I climb the ladder mechanically. The only thing that registers is that I can’t climb too fast or Finnick will accidentally kick in my teeth.

I look down exactly once. Pollux is standing at the base of the ladder, fighting the lizard mutts off valiantly and futilely. Alvan and Cashmere disappear into the darkness, running down the side tunnel, and then Katniss’s voice echoes up from below, “This way! Gale! Finnick! Come on!”

I wonder if anyone told Katniss he can do that. Probably not. Like no one told me Zalea could juggle.

“Annie, you need to climb.”

I force myself to follow Finnick’s voice. Up, up, up. Another rung, another step, another rung, another step.

Another shout below, farther away, barely audible over the lizard mutts. Castor’s voice this time. “Over here! Katniss, let’s go!”

They haul me up through a maintenance hole. As I go up, the Holo goes down. I watch it fall in slow motion, into the waiting mutts below, surrounding Pollux’s body. Then more hands pull me out of the way and the cover slams down and the explosion is muffled but still shakes the floor.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I whisper, staring at the entrance to the maintenance hole. I want to scream, but all I get is a horrified, hoarse rasp. “Alvan- he’s still- he’s still down there- he- Finnick-”

Finnick says nothing, just crushes me against his chest.

Someone is clawing at the cover, trying to get back down. Someone else is hauling them away.

“It’s no good. Gloss-” It’s Cressida’s voice. “There’s no one left down there to save.”

I choke a sob into Finnick’s shoulder.

“We have to go.” Katniss is trying to sound like she’s in control of herself. She’s failing. “We have to keep going.”

I can’t. I can’t keep going. I want to lay down and die.

“I didn’t say goodbye,” I whisper. “I didn’t know what he was doing until it was too late. I should have stopped him-”

“That’s why he didn’t tell us. We all would have stopped him. She would have stopped him, if she had two minutes to plan.”

Gloss is still trying to tear the cover off the maintenance hole.

****

****

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Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

#wrey writes #the hunger games #thg: tiger shark #annie cresta #finnick odair #major character death #character death #canon typical violence #ptsd #dissociation #y'all i saved finnick but i can't save everyone

[absideon-ephemeral]

II - Roommates, Commanders, and Generals.

A/N: And they were roommates - I'm sorry. The next chapter will be a lot more interesting as we finally get into the plot. And just as a heads up, THERE WILL BE NO SMUT AT ALL. Idk how to write it and I don't want to make a complete fool of myself if I do so. If I ever learn I may add some.

Warnings: mild language, curse words.

METANOIA Masterlist

——————————

Who knew a ship could be so damn big.

     I had walked and walked, following the map on my datapad to my quarters, which seemed to be on the other side of the ship. It was nearly midnight and I still hadn't reached it.

     During the entire walk, I couldn't get the strange encounter with Kylo Ren out of my head. Why had he just stared at me? What was that prickling sensation? My mind was going so fast, asking so many questions, that I almost ran into a wall. I had stopped myself just short a couple of inches from slamming right into it. I stood there, recollecting myself, as a quiet, minuscule beeping came from my datapad.

     Looking down, the beeping was signifying that I had reached my destination. In front of me were my quarters and not some random wall.

"For kriffs sake, finally," I muttered.

     I shut off my pad and went to reach for the control panel next to me, but I stopped myself from hitting the door button. Are my roommates already inside? What if they're already asleep? I don't want to get on their bad side, who knows how long I'll be rooming with them.

"Hey!"

     My head whips to the side to be met with a stormtrooper.

"What are you doing here?" They asked. From the sounds of it, the stormtrooper was female.

"I asked you a question."

"I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be rooming here." My words flew out fast and uneasy.

"Whose orders?" The stormtrooper asked.

"Head technician Ademir. He said that there were no available rooms in the technicians' quarters and that this was the first available spot," I explained.

     The stormtrooper made a noise of understanding and hit the door button on the panel. It slid open with a slight whoosh and was pitch black inside. The stormtrooper went in, turning the lights on in the process. I stood there, awkwardly, almost waiting for an invitation.

"Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?" The stormtrooper said.

"Uh, yeah right." I hurriedly walked in, the door closing behind me.

     The room was semi spacious. It had two dressers, three beds, each with its small nightstand; a refresher, and a window that outlooked the galaxy.

I made my way further in and sat on the bed that looked unoccupied. I sat rather stiffly as the stormtrooper began to take off her armor.

     Her helmet came off first, revealing dark skin, that almost seemed to have a honey glow to it, brown eyes, and a pretty face.

"So what's your name little technician?" She asked. Without the helmet on, I could hear an accent that was unfamiliar to me. I gave her my name and asked for hers.

"LN-7245." She answered as she continued to undress.

"LN-72- okay, that's a lot to call you by. Do you have a nickname or something I can use?" I asked.

She momentarily stopped her movements. "No. All we ever go by is our numbers." She then resumed, sitting down on the bed to take off her shin armor.

"Well, what about," I pondered for a second, "Leonora or Leo for short." She looked up at me.

"Leonora," she tested the name on her tongue, "I like it. Sounds nice. Where'd you come up with that?"

" Your number started with LN. I just took it from there and made something out of it that sounded pretty."

"Well, thank you for that." Leonora stood up, grabbed a case from under her bed, and began to pack away her armor for tomorrow.

When she finished, she grabbed some clothes, presumably sleep ones, out of the drawer on her nightstand. Before walking away to the refresher to change, she turned to the bed farthest away from me and smacked the person, who I honestly didn't even see, that was lying in it. They awoke with a start, cursing in Durese, a language known by space travelers.

"Why would you do that? I was sleeping so nicely!" They groaned. It was another female. This one had blond hair with brown streaks, blue eyes, and a pretty face as well.

"We have a new roommate. Be nice." Leonora smacked her again with her clothes and went to the refresher to change.

The girl grumbled something then turned to me, leaning back on her elbows, her head cocked to the side.

"So, what's your name?" She asked. I gave it to her. She peered at me curiously.

"You don't look like a stormtrooper." She pointed out.

I laughed. "What gave that away?"

She looked me up and down, "You don't have the body of a stormtrooper. And the way you seem to carry yourself, I'd assume you're a technician."

"Right you are." She laughed.

"I'm ZA-7283."

"Nice to meet you. Can I give you a nickname?" I asked.

"Nickname?" She asked. Leonora walked out of the refresher, dressed in comfy, all-black, nightclothes.

"She gave me one," Leo laid down on her cot, putting hands behind her head, "I'm Leonora, Leo for short." She had an air of pride around her.

The other girl gasped. "That sounds so cool! I want one too!"

"Okay, um, how about Zariah?" I suggested.

"Ooo, I like that. Makes me sound badass!" Zariah exclaimed. Leo and I laughed at her enthusiasm.

After we all calmed down, Zariah asked me a question.

"So why did they put a technician with two stormtroopers?"

I told her the same thing I told Leo.

"Ahhh okay. Well, at least you got two roommates who aren't sticks in the mud. That would've sucked." Zariah laid back down. I nodded in agreement.

—————————

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."

     I hoped to maker that there were no higher-up officials around, because if so, I would've most likely faced punishment. I was currently running through the halls like a mad man with my jumpsuit half on and struggling to carry my small tool bag.

     I had completely forgotten to set an alarm last night, causing me to wake up 20 minutes late, which is by no means acceptable. Leo and Zari left way before me, as troopers have to get up earlier than the techs, and they didn't even bother to wake me up.

So now I had to resort to dashing my way through the metal halls, weaving in and out of other technicians and stormtroopers. As I slid around a corner, I suddenly ran straight into something. The force I hit it with was enough to send me sprawling backward onto the cold metal floor. I groaned in slight pain and made an effort to sit up. Regaining my bearings, my sight is immediately met with black boots.

My blood ran cold.

Trailing my eyes up, all I see is black. Black pants, a black shirt, a black cloak, and a black helmet.

The prickling sensation returns. This time it's sifting through my mind, weaving in and out of the crevices.

Kylo Ren.

I scramble to my feet as quickly as possible and bring my arm into a salute. Once again, the black soulless eyes of his mask stare into the very depths of me.

"Please forgive me, Commander, sir!" The wavering words flew out. He said nothing, and I feared that he would whip out his lightsaber and end me right then and there. But he simply stared for a few more moments then briskly walked away, the prickling fading with him.

I watched as he left, not dropping my salute until he disappeared completely and I could no longer hear his boots on the metal floor.

When I had deemed it safe, I dropped my arm and breathed a sigh of relief. Gathering myself together, zipping up my uniform properly, and grabbing my bag, I made my way to my task for the day.

I was assigned to fix some damage in a meeting room, presumably caused by Kylo Ren during a meeting that had gone sour.

But when I walked through the doors metal blast doors, I couldn't help but curse.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

In front of me was one of the biggest messes I have ever seen. The poor innocent wallhad been slashed many times by a burning saber, leaving deep jagged lines. They crossed and weaved in and out of one another, forming some type of chaotic artwork. No matter the strange beauty, this was going to be a pain to fix.

Setting my bag down, I went closer to inspect the damage. The wiring underneath it had been damaged severely. Some areas are worse than others, but half of the underneath panels would need to be replaced.

Looking away from the wall, I took notice of a larger bag of tools and a welding cart set off of the side; free for me to use. I walk over to the bag, open it, and grab my first piece.

——————

Four hours and counting. That's how long I've been fixing this mess. And I haven't even gotten to re-welding the slashes yet.

For the last hour, I've been working in a tight space. Literally.

To fix some of the wires in one of the deeper slashes, I had to go inside the wall. It required me to remove the vent cover, which resided right below the slash near the floor, and crawl inside; upside down. It took me several tries and having to unzip my jumpsuit halfway, revealing my black under tank, and tie the sleeves around my waist to finally weasel in. My back was flat against the air vent as I worked and I could hardly hear anything. Honestly, it was a miracle I even fit. After removing the air duct lining, I was able to finally access the wires.

Which leads me up to now. I was in the process of attaching one of my last wires, peacefully working and oblivious to the outside world, when something unexpectedly nudged my foot.

The sensation made me jolt up, my head slamming into the roof of the duct.

"Kriff!" The word escaped as pain now radiated through my head. My foot was nudged again. "One moment please!" I shouted. I began to weasel my way back out, having slight difficulty due to not being able to see much.

Once I finally got my head and arms out, I sat on the ground, blinking my eyes to adjust to the harsh lighting, having been in a dark vent for the last hour.

"Did you hear me?"

My head whipped up, and I was met with someone you hoped to never meet; the infamous, General Hux.

I stood immediately, getting a slight head rush from the fast movement, and saluted. "General Hux, sir." I addressed him.

He looked at me with distaste; not pleased to see me without my uniform on properly. But there was no going back now. He looked me up and down, a frown forming on his face. He was just like I've heard him to be. Short, red-haired, and a not-so-pleasing face that was always screwed up in a face of displeasure.

He huffed and spoke again. "Did you hear me at all?" His voice was snobby and pitched.

"No sir, I couldn't hear anything in there." I curtly replied, taking notice of the men behind him. Other Generals and officers, I had never seen, but by the way they presented themselves, they were important.

"Well, I had asked what you are doing in here. This is a restricted area to those without permission." He sneered, obviously not liking me.

"I was tasked to fix this damage, sir. Some of the wirings needed to be replaced but I could only access it through the vent, sir." I remained still, keeping my salute.

"On whose orders?"

"Head technician Ademir, sir. I have the assignment on my data-pad if you wish to see, sir."

"That won't be necessary. Do you have any other tasks to do?" He was growing frustrated at my presence.

"No sir, I don't. This is my only one due to how much work it requires." I answered. He huffed and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the blast doors opening, and someone walking in. My view was blocked by the other men, but General Hux rolled his eyes, already knowing who had entered.

"Ah, Commander, how pleasant of you to join us."

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader

[hournites]

The Beth Text

Hournite fic (Stargirl)

Summary: When Beth has an emergency, Hourman climbs through her bedroom window.

Read on ao3

~.~

Beth: Rick, I need you. 

~.~

Rick tumbled through her bedroom window, nearly breaking the frame. The glass shook like it wasn’t sure if it wanted to shatter or not, and the flap of her curtains blew up dramatically from the gust of wind. Hourman’s golden cape fell askew in his haste. His eyes darted up, alert in his mask as he oriented himself, sunken elbows-deep in her fuzzy floor carpet.

“Beth!?”

Beth had never heard Rick so panic-struck before. She cringed, feeling bad as she dragged the bag out of her closet through all of her clothes. “In here!”

Quick on his feet, he scanned the room for Cindy or Sportsmaster or another ISA member as if they’d jump out from under her bed.  

Beth pulled out four green plastic packs of X-Pression Bahama Curls from out of the bag and waved them at him. 

Rick stared at her, lost.

It took a good moment as Beth brought in her full-sized mirror to prop up against her vanity for him to be comfortable with the idea that he could let his guard down enough to not assume this wasn’t some sort of sneak ISA attack. Beth was fine.  

He let out a breath he might've been holding too long then narrowed his eyes at her accusingly. “You said there was an emergency.”

“I didn’t say it was an emergency,” Beth replied, tongue in cheek.

Although it totally was one. After Yolanda got caught upside down in that barbed wire that afternoon, Beth had to rush home to finish her math assignment—Without Chuck’s help, she needed to get quadratics right properly for a Chuck-free test— and that ate up so much time she yelped when she realized how close it was to midnight. So she texted Rick. It seemed like the next best option. The first one wasn't worth mentioning.

“I said I needed you.”

“For what?”

Beth smiled brightly at him. “My hair!” She gestured at her braid extensions and crochet latch hook needle in an array on her bed. “They take forever to do on my own, and my hand starts cramping before I’m even halfway done.”

“You want me to use my hour on your hair?”

“Please?” The day was almost over so it wasn't like it would be a risk, and by some stroke of luck, he didn't use it today.

Rick muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch as he peeled his mask off his face. Beth did a little celebratory dance from her bed. If he really wanted to leave he would’ve already been back out the window. 

“Are your parents home?” He looked down at his very obvious JSA—ness. The tight suit, the big emblem belt, the boots. As far as discretion went—it didn’t. Just because Courtney’s parents are cool with hosting teen superheroes at weird hours didn’t mean it was the same for the rest of theirs. 

She smiled and patted a seat for him on her crisp blue duvet. “Not until five in the morning. Night shifts.”

Chuck was on her nightstand where she left him, forgotten in favour of Youtube procuring a how-to video so she could share it with him in a regular way. 

“Rick,” she pleaded in a soft voice when he didn’t move. She discovered recently if she widened her eyes at him, a look would pass his face that yielded him to her knees. And in that precious pocket of time, Beth could lull even his angriest thoughts of war to a whisper. It always baffled Courtney, who tried to replicate her model of calming Rick down after Beth's with little sway.  Yolanda called it Witchcraft™️. Beth wasn't afraid to use it, but she worried sometimes in the heat of a battle if it was taking advantage of him. 

He sighed again and rolled his eyes in a way Beth knew was harmless. 

He kicked off his boots and yanked off his gloves.“How long did you say this takes?”

Beth made a face at the memory of the length of her last hair appointment. “Three hours?” 

“Oh my god.” He approached her, successfully coaxed in. 

“Well!” she added quickly. “I don’t have super strong fingers! That’s why I texted you! It’ll probably be a lot faster with your help.” 

Kneeling on her bed, he sat cluelessly, hands hovering over her thick, kinky hair. It wasn’t witchcraft. Rick trusted her. She never took that lightly.

 Maybe his fingers wouldn’t tire looping the braids in or holding the needle at weird angles for too long, but he was afraid of tugging too hard. He’d totalled a car before, Hourman wasn’t exactly delicate.

 As if she read his mind, she guided his hand to the part she’d just made with her wide comb. 

“I have a strong scalp,” she reassured him. “Just don’t yank and it should be fine.”

“...Okay,” he whispered still unsure, but after an informative tutorial and demonstration by Beth that he studied carefully, they went to work.

 “Why do you want these in?” He was six loops in and a lot more comfortable. He tackled her right side as she took on the left, keeping that part down the middle. He was better at this than she thought he would be, nimble fingers pulling through every time with the crochet tool. “Do you not like how it looks?” He tugged on the piece he was working on. 

“My hair?”

“Yeah.”

 “I do,” she said. “But it’s been a really long time since I’ve done anything more than a perm for our family pictures. Elementary school.”

“I remember.”

“My family portraits?” She frowned curiously. “I don’t think I’ve ever pointed those out.” Although surely he’d heard her talk about them on FaceTime calls to her parents every October in the cafeteria. And they hung on the wall of her staircase. He’d been here a couple of times since the JSA rebranded. It might’ve been an obvious object for Rick to notice, just something Beth had been blind to.  

“No, your braids,” he clarified. “Two thick ones down the back from second to fifth grade. They were cute.”

 Rick continued with his twist, concentrating intently. She watched him, stopping her own braid as he finished his down her back. Was she touched or stung or perplexed? She wanted Chuck to help her navigate her feelings. Beth couldn’t decide. 

“What?” he said. 

 “I didn’t think you noticed.”

 “We’ve been in every class together since we were seven.”

 “You never talked to me.” 

 Nobody ever talked to me, she wanted to say. 

 Rick lowered his hand, meeting her gaze through their reflection in her mirror. It was quite the image. A black teen girl in a washed-out grey tank and shorts sitting in front of her towering white, lean and reluctant hairdressing superhero. Beth’s lightbulb burnt out the other day and her dad never got around to fixing it, the dimly lit bedroom and late-hour made it all the more striking. And now they were venturing onto deep JSA taboo talks. Yolanda’s scandal. Court’s father. Rick’s bruises. Mr. Dugan's Starman. Henry’s mother. Beth’s bitterly pathetic history of social aptitude. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

 “I know.” The hourglass sand trickled steadily into its base. “Beth, I’m sorry.”

 She touched his spandex-clad knee. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she wore a tight smile, despite her sudden pressing urge to cry.

 “Rick. I’m not mad at you.” She uttered a soft laugh at the gentle way he stroked her hair in response, relief even. “It was never you. You still sat beside me all those years before Yolanda.”

“I never realized you were mad at all.”

“Well, that’s just stupid.”

“It’s not,” he replied, taking over her side of the part. He didn’t even need to refer to the youtube video or her completed braids anymore. She tried to help him but he knocked her hand away. She rested them over her knees after a moment of letting them hang in the air. 

“You’ve always been so...Beth.”

 “So Beth?” she repeated incredulously, smirking a little. 

He got hot under his collar, shifting in his position with a flush. “Shut up,” he said so uselessly she actually laughed out loud. “You know what I mean.” He was running out of time, but her hair was almost all done anyway. “Helpful and cheery and full of smiles without spite, even when people rejected you. Even if they don't deserve you.”

“Not everyone hurts the same way, Rick.”

“Yeah.” 

She knew he knew that now, experienced it firsthand growing close to her, Courtney, Henry and Yolanda. 

“My mom told me when I was little, that the last thing the person that hates you wants to see is your smile.” 

Rick reeled back. 

She frowned at herself. “I faked it a lot at first. But the more I smiled, the happier I felt with myself. The more I found joy in the small things in my life...Even if I was lonely.” 

Two arms wrapped around her middle from behind her, surprising Beth out of her internal monologue. Rick dropped his head against her shoulder.

 Beth had touched Rick a hundred of fleeting times. She fell into his arms or yanked him back from a rash fistfight, high-fived or brushed his fingers when passing school notes. She'd wrapped bandages around his purpling knuckles. Even reached for his hand a couple of scary times. 

 This was not that. 

This felt warm and spell-binding, even with the huge hourglass pressed against her back. Slowly, she reached up to run her hand through his brown mussed white boy hair, feeling the silk of his cape and hood. Rick shuddered at her touch and said something else, muffled into her skin. It was like he ached for this, needed it deep in his bones or soul. Beth didn’t know what to do. Or if there was anything to do. She had never been this close to a boy before. She had never been this close, physically, with anybody. Maybe the girls had it wrong. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. But the lightheaded dizzy feeling with Rick's breathing near enough to hear was not something she ever wanted to let go of.

Maybe Beth was the bewitched one.  

His time ran out. He held her just the same. It was nice to know it was possible, she thought wistfully. That Rick Tyler could be as intimate and secure without some external source of strength. 

“Thank you for spending your hour with me.” 

She turned around, and her hair moved freely with her head, shoulder-length and new. It weighed heavily. A tension headache crept into her temples from her edges, though she wouldn’t tell him because they weren’t of any fault of Rick. Twists and braids always had a certain ache to them on the first day. It was late too, Beth just needed a good sleep. It didn’t seem hard, now. Something about this hug made her peacefully sleepy. 

“Your welcome,” he said, his eyes softening upon hers once again. 

She didn’t even have to pull her sorcery moves. She could already hear Yolanda’s voice in her head. Double Witchcraft!™️

Lucky Beth. 

“Let me know what kind of an emergency I’m getting myself into next time. I’ll be there.”  

"Even if it's just my hair?" she joked. 

"Yes," he said. It sounded like a lingering promise. She hoped he knew it went both ways.   

"Okay." Beth closed her eyes and hummed. "I'll text when I need you." 

#hournite #hournite fic #stargirl #my fic #Beth Chapel #Rick Tyler #fluff

[anonniemousefics]

My Dearest Inej | Chapter Eleven

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Eleven: A Balancing Act

My darling Inej,  

Don’t think for a minute I don’t know what you’re aiming at with this letter full of questions. You may have my heart, but you can’t be privy to all of my schemes, especially when I’m now aware that your birthday is next month. Did you think I would forget? My dear, I forget nothing.  

So, no, to all of your questions. I’m not telling you what I’ve been plotting lately. I’m not telling you what has been on my mind. I’m not telling you if I’ve been visiting Jesper and Wylan’s more than usual. You must wait in suspense just as Jesper did. That’s part of the experience.

And don’t make that scoffing sound when you read this. I remind you that this whole birthday gift experience business was all your idea. You have no one to blame but yourself.

How do I sleep at night, you asked? Noisily, I’ve been told, but just fine, thank you.  

With all of my scheming heart,

Kaz  

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

To my favorite Inej,

Has he said anything at all to you – regarding the incident in my last letter? We found him on the couch again this morning. It’s at least becoming less startling when it happens. I just wish I understood it. He has that uncanny ability to vanish without explanations, and Wylan and I aren’t sure how to bring it up since he’s so clearly bent on pretending it’s not happening.

I suppose if our sofa and our dog are what he needs right now for whatever is happening inside that ridiculous brain of his, then I’m glad we’re able to help in some small way. He’s not taking advantage of much. We only wish he’d trust us with more.

I mean, we’ve all have nearly died for his schemes on more than one occasion. Should I remind him of that? What could possibly be too much to ask of us at this point?

All my love,

Jesper  

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

To our feared and beloved Captain

For her twenty-first birthday:

Cake and kvas and mysteries galore

Are awaiting your arrival

Return to Ketterdam if you wish to know more

Your presence is requested at the enclosed address, at 3 bells the 18th of October.  

No questions. All will be revealed in time.

Love,

Your favorite Crows

(addition in Kaz’s handwriting)

That gods-awful poem was Jesper and Wylan’s idea. Withhold judgment until after the evening. I’ll make it worth your while.  

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

 Dear Nina,  

I’m sailing away from Ketterdam today having nearly every single one of my birthday wishes fulfilled but one. But I won’t hold it against you. I know why you couldn’t have been there, or at least, I understand why I don’t know the specifics of why you couldn’t be there. Just know that, at the time of writing this and always, you are sorely missed.  

You would be so proud, though, with how our boys outdid themselves. I am impressed and moved and, frankly, still a little speechless. I’m honestly still replaying the memories and recalling the half-starved scrappy little things we all were seven years ago, and the two images side-by-side could not be any more different. I hope, wherever you are, the passage of time is bringing you similar new hopes. You deserve that and so much more, Nina.  

Where to begin? You know, years ago, just before we started the Ice Court, Kaz made me this lofty, insane promise. That, if we did it right, we’d be kings and queens. I’ll be damned if he wasn’t right.  

The day started at a dressmaker’s shop. I’d been given an address and a time to arrive, and that alone was a little jaw-dropping. It was in The Lid – an absolute premier spot I’d never even heard of when I lived in Ketterdam. I was grossly underdressed when I arrived. It’s not that I have anything against dresses – you know this. They’re just not at all practical for my line of work, and so I have none. I confess that sometimes I’ll admire them in a shop window when I’m out and about in a port town, but why in the world would I ever spend the coin on one? I wouldn’t even know what suits me anymore.  

This dressmaker, though, Nina. She knew all everything about the right fabrics, the right cut, the right make. They’d booked me the entire shop all to myself, just me and the dressmaker. She found me an absolute perfect gown – I’m staring at it right now. I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do with it now that my birthday’s over. Maybe I’ll prop it up in my desk chair and have tea with it every once and awhile. It’s this breathtaking light, pastel yellow, like sunshine, with all this detailed beadwork and exposed shoulders and what the dressmaker called an A-line waist. You might know what that means. I think it’s just dressmaker code for very pretty. She tailored me into it right there in the shop and fitted me with shoes and a cloak to match.

(My one regret was having no idea what to do with my hair. You’d cringe, but I left it in the braid. A minor detail the boys overlooked.)

It took a good few hours to get fixed up in the dress, and it was nearly evening by then. The dressmaker assured me it was all paid for, and right about that time, a black carriage pulled up in front of the shop. And Jesper and Wylan had their heads out the windows, shouting like madmen at me from the streets. I think the entirety of The Lid knew then about my birthday.

Kaz was in the carriage, too, hiding his enthusiasm as he does so well. I have to tell you, though, Nina, I won’t ever forget the look on his face when I got into the carriage. He was clearly trying his best to remain cool and unaffected, but I saw it, the way his jaw dropped slightly and his breath caught. This is obviously why I can never get rid of this dress. I’m just imagining what he’s going to end up writing in his letter after this, since, verbally, he actually managed to mumble that I looked beautiful, right there in front of Jesper and Wylan.

You know, it’s interesting. When he says it, it’s not at all like hearing a man in the Menagerie say it. When he says it, it’s like it’s not just the dress. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s the same words, and yet it’s so very different.  

And it only got better from there. The city was getting dusky, and the lamps were being lit. We were still in The Lid, amongst carriages and carriages of the filthy rich from the Financial District, the Government District, and tourists from all over. I kept leaning my head out the window to figure out what was coming next.  

Nina – they had bought us all ticket to the Cirque Euphoric.  

Maybe this means nothing to you. But it’s only the most ancient, most elite, most elaborate traveling circus in the world. It can only be afforded anymore by the wealthiest of tourists. And they were there doing an entire season in The Lid in Ketterdam, under a big top the size of two city blocks.

Nina, you don’t understand. My entire childhood, I kept posters and drawings and any relic that made its way to the markets from the Cirque Euphoric. Their high wire artists set the standard for all other performers in the business. The things they do in the sky, Nina, are things I haven’t even begun to imagine yet.

Sufficed to say, as soon as I figured out where we were going, I lost it. I did not know what to do with myself. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I burst into tears. It was a horrifying few moments for everyone involved. They were fairly certain they’d done something horribly wrong, instead of so wonderfully right. But that only last a couple minutes. I was able to get it together before Kaz could yell at the driver to take us back to East Stave. And then the merriment resumed, soaked handkerchief and all.

Oh, Saints, Nina, it was everything I’d ever imagined and more.

I don’t know how he knew this, but Kaz had reserved us the very best seats. You don’t want to sit too high at a circus or you’ll miss entertainment on the ground. Sitting too low presents a problem, too, because you want to be able to see the footwork the high wire artists can do. We were right in the middle, just where I’d have picked seats myself. Sankta Alina, I felt like a little girl again. I haven’t been that happy in years. I’d almost forgotten what it was to be that happy. And to watch it all with such beloved friends, who knew me well enough to know I would like this, to watch and hear their reactions to the performances. They might have loved it almost as much as I did. Almost.

We took another carriage ride after, hours later, when it was dark and the streets were bustling with very different crowds. I would have assumed that was the end of it, but Kaz had made us reservations in a private dining room at a fine dining club I’d never heard of.

My entire crew from The Wraith was waiting in the dining room. We ate a meal there fit for royalty, with drinks and a cake big enough that even you might have gotten sick of it after awhile. I don’t think I’ll need to eat again for weeks.

It must have been around midnight or past when we finally rolled ourselves out of the club. We took another carriage ride, stopping first at the Van Eck mansion so Wylan could haul a decently-sloshed Jesper off to bed and hopefully not to the toilet bowl. I actually never heard how he ended up faring that night.

And then it was finally just Kaz and me. If I hadn’t been so tired then, I think I’d have tried to snog his face off the whole way home. I’d been noticing his smug little smirk all evening. He’d planned the whole thing. Like I said, kings and queens. He’d made good on his word at last.  

But we were both exhausted on that final carriage ride – he’d booked me a room at the Geldrenner. And it’s not like I needed anything else at that point. The whole experience had already exceeded my expectations. He leaned back against the window, and I rested against him under his arm. We both dozed off there before the end of the ride.  

Which is another point I realize I haven’t mentioned to you yet. This has been happening lately. Kaz falling asleep in unusual places. Jesper’s been worrying about it for weeks now. I was having a hard time believing it until I witnessed it myself. Tell me this isn’t weird:

We got to the Geldrenner, and I asked him to come up. Oh, calm down. Are we really going to pretend like this is shocking at this point? Frankly, given the number of years, it’s shocking we weren’t sneaking into hotel rooms four years ago. And it’s not like we do much more than kiss. Although, I thought about it. It was my birthday after all, and he had just gifted me the experience of a lifetime and a luxury hotel room to boot. I was definitely thinking about it.  

But that’s not the weird part. Let’s agree that’s not the weird part, anyway. We came up, and we did very little talking. There’d been plenty of talking happening all night, and I was more interested in other things he can do with his mouth. Kissing, Nina, Saints. I can sense you doing that waggling thing with your eyebrows. I’m talking about just a lot of kissing, as soon as he let me get my hands on him. The kind of kissing every grown woman should have on her birthday, kisses that slide into more kisses, like there’s nothing else in the world happening but this.

But then the weird part happened. We’re lying on the bed (fully clothed, Nina, he even still had his gloves on), or at least, he’s lying back on the pillows and I’m kissing him, and then I notice he wasn’t really moving. And I sat back a moment, and I swear to you, he had fallen asleep. Believe me, I called him out on it right then, literally – “Are you sleeping?!” And he flinched right awake and apologized and blamed it on the kvas, and I might have even believed him.  

Except Jesper keeps talking about this strange new habit of his. And, as I replay the night’s memories in my head, it does feel like something was off. He seemed paler. He seemed quieter. He seemed – well, tired.  

Now I can’t kick this feeling like there’s something more happening behind the scenes. I wish you were here, Nina, and you could work your magic like you do and just squeeze the truth out of his brain somehow. I’ll have to settle for my own magic, I guess.  

When I look over my letters from him, he’s off-handedly mentioned feeling overwhelmed, particularly since this kid Artie joined the Dregs. And, don’t get me wrong, the kid is kind of handful. His moods swing wide between murderous rage and affectionate admiration. But he’s not Kaz’s sole responsibility. Pim and Anika do a lot to keep him on task and out of the bad kind of trouble. I wouldn’t think this would be enough to drive him to exhaustion.

But then again, Artie is the same age Jordie was. I wonder how much that gets to him. I wonder how much time he spends avoiding that. I wonder if he allows himself to think of it at all. Would that be enough to push him to the edge? Or is it something more?

It couldn’t be me, could it? Am I becoming exhausting?  

Ugh, Nina, come squeeze this out of my brain, too. And then come dress shopping with me, because it is much more enjoyable than I thought it would be.  

Missing you terribly,

Inej

#six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #ketterdam #kanej #kanej fanfic #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #kaz x inej #fanfic #fanfiction

[missnmikaelson-main]

A Year to Eternity? - Chapter 5

Elena dozed in her hospital bed, bathed in a shaft of sunlight, and appeared dead to the world. He would have chosen another word to describe her current state of consciousness, but Freya had chosen ‘dozed’.

He gave a soft tap on the door frame, startling Caroline from her light doze.

Her hand curled tighter around the edge of the bassinet as she jerked out of dreams into awareness, straightening up and acknowledging his presence with a short nod.

“How is she?” His eyes traced the sharp angles of Elena’s face. Without meaning to he stepped forward, hardly recognizing his own actions until his fingers skimmed the prominent curve of her cheek and the feathered lines around her eyes, smoothed in sleep.

Lines that hadn’t been present when he left her in the hands of her friends.

“Exhausted,” Caroline stretched. Her voice softened, lifting an octave. “Little baby no-name decided she was coming into the world feet first.”

Elijah glanced over, finding her cooing into the open-top of the bassinet.

“They say children born feet first will have healing abilities,” he offered a half smile.

“Don’t they also say that babies born at night will never sleep at night?”

“I’ve known that one to be true,” his smile widened. “Kol was born at night and would cry at all hours, only going to sleep when it was time for the rest of us to begin chores. I forgot what true rest felt like for the first three years of his life.”

His fingers absently stroked Elena’s hair from her face.

Caroline glanced at his hand, but he had eyes only for Elena.

“Aside from exhausted how is she?”

“I would imagine sore,” she tilted her head in an attempt to block out the beep of the heart monitor. “She was still in a lot of pain with the epidural and needed to have stitches.”

He nodded, eyes darting to a second visitor’s chair, empty save for a sweater. “And Miss Bennett?”

“She started feeling the spell so I sent her home to sleep; she must have forgotten her jacket,” her fingers reached for the dark grey wool. “She saw the baby and held her. We cooed, we awed, and two of the grown-ups crashed. One with the aid of heavy painkillers,” she gestured to the bed.

His eyes rose to the bassinet. His feet itched, wanting to circle the hospital bed so he could peer into the tiny face he couldn’t see.

Would Elena dominate the infant’s features? Would there be a hint of the potential predator who altered her memory?

Would there be some information for him to utilize in a quest for answers?

Would there be a starting point, or would he be captivated by her tiny features as he was by her mother?

A different captivation to be sure, but captivation nonetheless.

“Hope wasn’t born in the hospital,” he twisted a lock of brown hair around his finger, “it is common practice to keep newborns in the same room as their mother?”

“No,” Caroline shook her head. “After the labour and delivery she was a little dazed, but insisted the baby stay. She got really worked up about it. I was scared she would pop her stitches so I agreed to stay after compelling the staff.”

“Worked up?” His frown etched into the lines around his mouth. “Why?”

“She seemed to think that if the baby was away from her then she would disappear.” She busied her hands folding the wool neatly. “Bonnie and I tried to tell her it wasn’t gonna happen, but she had that ‘I’m gonna sacrifice myself to a sadistic hybrid’ stubborn look, so this was just easier; I fully believe she would have tried to walk to the nursery.”

Elena shifted in her sleep, leaning into his touch as she had all those years ago in the gazebo. With emotions the movement accompanied a soft hum.

“If you need to get back to work I don’t mind staying,” he touched her jaw. Elena turned, fitting her cheek into the palm of his hand.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Caroline smirked. “I do have a few things to do at work.”

She schooled her features into indifference when he looked up sharply, but couldn’t keep her eyebrow from raising slightly.

He withdrew his hand.

Elena’s brow wrinkled, twisting her nose.

“I…”

Caroline held up a hand, waving away the halfhearted explanation.

It took Elena four hundred thirty-two days after waking up to mention the letter, one hundred ten to bring up his sign off, and a further three days to talk about what occurred in Willoughby before Idiot One and Idiot Two dragged her home.

On top of that, she had seen every look as they rose from tolerance to a grudging respect, admiration and finally adoration. She knew that for once the captivation didn’t begin and end with her friend’s face.

Elijah may not have been as vocal about his affection. There had never been a sweeping declaration of ‘your last love’, or promises to see the world, but ‘Always and Forever’ had a quieter ring to it.

The vow would echo through the ages.

It already had.

“I’m not blind,” she said simply. “I’m gonna go, but I’ll come back later with afternoon with a car seat.”

“Will they release them so soon?” He pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Today or tomorrow, and if not today then I’ll leave the car seat for whoever ends up taking them home.”

He nodded as she took one last look in the bassinet and left. He managed to wait a few minutes, a true testament to his thousand years of patience, before he moved a human speed around the bed.

Between a pink hat and striped hospital blanket peeked a tiny face. She had the makings of her mother’s nose and jaw. He thought he might get away without being taken in, but then her large eyes opened: unfocused and deepest blue.

With a grunt she worked a tiny fist free and waved it at him.

He glanced towards a soundly sleeping Elena and then back to the baby.

Her mouth opened, ready to bawl.

He scooped her up before she could cry and swayed, cradling her in the crook of his arm as her stomach gurgled.

“You’re hungry,” he cooed; something he would deny if either of his brothers asked. “Your mommy is sleeping, though. Do you think you can be patient? Hmm?”

He reached for the call button, pressing it while the infant studied his face.

“Can you hold on for the nurse?”

She puckered her lips, searching for food he didn’t have.

“Is it feeding time already?” A man’s head poked in the room, kind eyes crinkling in a smile.

“Am I going to have to wake her?” He nodded to Elena.

“We’ve got formula on hand, and she had a hard delivery. I’ll get it.”

Elijah nodded, rationalizing that he had to be one of the compelled staff to not mention the baby and strange man in the room; he returned before she could fuss.

Elijah settled into the visitor’s chair.

Her nose crinkled familiarly and she suckled. A little formula dribbled from her mouth into the roll of her neck. He gently wiped it away when she was done.

“That’s better, isn’t it sweetheart?” He placed her on his shoulder, rubbing her back until she released a small burp.

“‘Lijah?” Elena’s sleepy voice rose from the bed.

Bleary eyes struggled to focus on him.

“Elena,” he shifted the baby back to his arms. She blinked up at him with more focus than her mother, but Elena managed a lazy version of her half smile. “I’m right here. I’m watching her. You can rest.”

“I wa’ ho’,” she frowned, bringing a deeper pucker between her brows. The age had taken her overnight; it was jarring but no less beautiful. She opened her mouth and tried again.

“I want to hold her.”

“I thought it was something like that.” He stood, arranging her neatly in the curve of Elena’s arm that remained wire free.

She lacked the physical strength and energy to lift the infant so he slayed her on the mattress with Elena’s arm acting as a bumper.

Her fingers carefully traced the arm outside the blanket.

“Hi,” she breathed.

The tiny fist jerked, bumping her arm.

“I’ve been interpreting that as hello,” he chuckled. “I’m certain it will seem less violent when she can uncurl her fingers.”

Elena managed a half smile, different then ‘his smile’, and kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

“How are you feeling?” He helped her tuck the child’s arm back under the blanket.

“Tired,” she mumbled, lashes fluttering against her cheek.

“Then sleep, Elena,” he settled into a chair, “I’ll be right here.”

“For how long?” She mumbled.

“As long as you need,” he watched mother and child drift off, “until you say go.”

He stayed there until they were both asleep and on the path to recovering from the trauma of birth. Then he stood and moved the baby back to the bassinet.

By the time Elena woke up again he had shed his jacket, tie and rolled up his sleeves; her baby wiggled in his arms.

She remained awake long enough to question Caroline and Bonnie’s absence.

The third time she tried to sit up, so he moved and raised the bed into a sitting position.

“Still tired?” His watch read 12:43.

“A little,” she shifted with a wince and a hiss.

“Are you okay?” He filled a cup with water.

She sipped while blinking the sleep from her eyes.

“I had stitches,” she pursed her lips and bit her cheek. The line between her brows deepened. “Was Kol here?”

“Not to my knowledge,” he eyed her pale features, drawn tight in pain. “Would you like some help in healing? I hate to see you hurt.”

“That’s sweet,” she leaned against the pillows, situating her hips in the most comfortable position she could manage, “but vampire blood lost all effect on me when I took the cure. You might want to warn Rebekah about that in case she gets any ideas about going skiing or something and breaks a leg.”

“Speaking from experience?” He untangled the wires, gently brushing her hand.

“I’ve never broken a leg skiing, but I did break my arm after a fall down the stairs,” her eyes glazed over, lost in memory, “a couple of ribs too.”

“Carrying too many things?” Elijah guessed.

“Ex-boyfriend,” her fingers twitched, reaching for the ghost of a wound. She saw him stiffen from the corner of her eye; redhot fury flashed across his features. She enunciated each word carefully so he would be sure to hear and calm down.

“It was the first and last time he hit me; I think Caroline made a midnight snack of him, but six years later I still don’t have verbal confirmation. He disappeared after that and the only thing Caroline would say was that she took care of it and that nobody would find him since the spot had been chosen by Klaus years earlier.”

“Good,” some of the tension left his shoulders, but his jaw remained locked. “Niklaus is proficient in covering his missteps.”

“Why do I get the feeling if he were still alive his fate would be a lot more… grisly?” She tilted her head, not thinking before reaching for his hand.

He looked down, watching her cool fingers curl around his palm. His gaze strayed to her arm, sharp eyes picking up the faint lines of an old surgery. He hadn’t given much through to the punishments of old in a long time, but he would not have been opposed to enacting a little Viking Justine on her behalf. In his opinion any man who would beat a woman, or a child, deserved a violent death.

Had he not lacked the courage he would have stricken Mikael down the first time he raised a hand to Niklaus. He should have done so, but he had been a boy of nine.

Still.

There would be hell to pay when he found the bastard(s) responsible for her memory loss and subsequent pregnancy. He knew of several fitting punishments for rapists should that prove the case.

“Grisly…” he began, tracing the veins in her hand, “… feels too mild a term.” His muscles twitched with the desire to raise her hand to his lips and smooth the furrow between her brows with a soft kiss.

He settled for rubbing circles into her palm with his thumb. “I’m sorry that happened to you, and I apologize for making you relive it now.”

“Forgiveness is kind of our thing, so I suppose I can let it go,” her eyes crinkled slightly when she smiled.

“Isn’t betrayal out thing too?” He chuckled.

“And trust,” she added, shrugging, “we go round and round. The carousel never stops.”

“I think I saw an emergency break,” he teased.

“Oh, good,” she sank into her pillows. “I’m starting to get a little dizzy.”

“That will be the after effects of your painkillers.”

“What did they give me?” She struggled to sit and immediately regretted it.

Elijah passed her the chart hung over the foot of the bed, flipping it open. She took it after pulling off the heart monitor clip.

A long beep filled the silence as she read. He half expected a nurse to race in their direction, but before one could the cord pulled itself from the wall.

“It was annoying,” she whispered into the silence.

“What else can you do?” He eyed the blank monitor.

“Mostly fire and moving things with magic,” she licked her dry lips. “I don’t practice a lot so I’m not very good, but I wouldn’t have minded the telekinesis as a kid.”

“Kol used it for all kinds of mischief as a child.”

“No trouble,” she smiled, “I just wanted the good cookies off the top shelf.”

“I’m sure you still found a way to get them.”

“I climbed,” she nodded, shoulders rising in a silent laugh. “I fell. I cried?” She tilted her head. “My mom thought my wrist was broken, but dad wrapped it up, gave me some just and one of the cookies; I was fine a few minutes later.”

“So your mother over-reacted.”

“It’s possible,” she licked her bottom lip, “but dad was also experimenting with vampire blood for the town council, so…”

“The paediatric ward would probably frown on that.” His smile softened when a gentle gurgle reached his ears. “Are you certain blood has no effect on you? The cure is gone, and has left you, presumably, human.”

She laid the chart on her legs, watching as he refilled her glass from the sink.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Would you like to try?” He shut off the tap. “The worst that can happen is nothing.”

“Isn’t the worst that can happen having it work, and then something unexpected comes along and I wake in transition?” She countered.

“Elena, I give you my word that I will not let that happen unless it’s your choice.”

That was what it truly came down to with Elena after all. The only thing she truly wanted for herself was the freedom to make her own decisions.

He waited patiently for her choice.

The gurgle acquired accompaniment from a waking heart and a tiny hitch in breathing. The same kind Elena made when she was surprised. He suspected waking outside the warmth and safety of the womb must have come as quite the shock.

Elena nodded once.

He bit into his wrist and a let a small stream of blood dribble into the cup. A turn of the plastic diluted most of it.

She drank with a grimace as he cleaned his wrist, tipping her head back and downing the water like a shot.

He lifted her wriggling baby into his arms and cradled her close to his chest.

Elena’s face twisted up. After a decade she had thought she forgot, but the feeling of skin knitting together appeared to be stuck in her body.

She yanked the IV from her hand as it began, starting as always with a tickle. Then the tickle exploded into a full-blown itch between her legs and up into her abdomen.

The moment it began to feel unbearable it stopped, leaving her with a niggling discomfort caused by the remnants of her stitches.

Showering was bound to be fun.

“It worked,” he nodded to her hand. “Was it enough?”

Elena took stock of her body while he transferred the baby into her arms. The deep ache and tearing were gone; she could tell that by feel. The only physical reminders of her pregnancy seemed to be the extra layer of softness around her belly, the heaviness in her breasts and the newborn in her arms.

“I think so,” she murmured. Her eyes dropped, catching the deepest blue. She had lacked awareness before and was only half-convinced she had held her baby, but now, free of painkillers and somewhat rested she knew what was happening.

Her heart swelled, accepting what her mind had pushed back for months.

Mine, she thought, precious and mine. A tear fell on the blanket.

“Elena?” He didn’t try to stop himself from gently tucking her hair behind her ear as he perched on the bed by her thighs.

“Hi,” she breathed, allowing her finger to trace a pudgy cheek. “Hi, baby girl. I’m your mommy,” her eyes shimmered as she choked on a sob. “I’ll try not to screw up, I promise.”

“You won’t.”

Blue eyes swivelled. He leaned a little closer so she could focus on his face.

“Elijah,” she glanced up, “thank you for helping me last night, and for being here.”

“You’re welcome,” he lifted his gaze from the baby. “I meant to return, but your darling daughter made her appearance first. I still don’t know her name.”

“Neither do I,” she huffed a small laugh. “I thought I’d have a little more time, plus, as you know, I was putting everything baby related off.”

“I do know,” he nodded, lifting a finger to smooth out the blanket.

“What about now? Do you have any ideas? She’ll need a name before she goes home.”

“No pressure,” Elena sighed. Her daughter wiggled and grunted, looking towards Elijah with a pucker in her lips.

“I think she’s hungry.”

“How can you tell?” Her brows lowered.

“I’ve been diligent in keeping her satisfied so you might rest,” he pointed to his ear.

“Oh,” a faint flush stained her cheeks, “right. Um…” she turned her head, eyeing the snap of the hospital gown. “Could you hold her a second?”

“Of course,” he nodded, taking her.

He spoke softly in a language Elena didn’t know, cooing to distract while she pulled on the buttons.

Before that moment she would have called anyone who labelled Elijah Mikaelson as soft a complete and utter moron with an obvious death wish, but his entire continence changed. She had seen kind eyes and gentle smiles, felt tender touches and heard sweet words, from him directed at her, but this was different. The way he cradled and spoke to the baby suggested he would slaughter anyone who wished her harm; much as Elena had felt when she looked into her baby’s eyes.

“Okay,” she blushed, baring one breast, “I’m ready.” She wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or pleased when he placed the baby back in her arms without looking at her chest.

Her tiny mouth rooted, searching. Elena guided her nipped into the hunting mouth. It took her a few tries to latch, but then she felt the tingling trickle. She hardly glanced up as Elijah placed a blanket over her front to preserve her modesty, draping it so she could still see the baby’s face.

“This feels weird,” she admitted on a breath of air. She also felt closer with the skin on skin contact. Her heart felt ready to burst.

Was it safe to feel the amount of love she did?

She needed a distraction before she broke down in tears.

“Can I ask you something?” She lifted her head in time to see him nod. “What did you mean last night when you said you forgot? How was that possible?”

“I was compelled by the joint efforts of Marcel and a witch,” he spoke after a beat. “We had just divided the Hollow, and I feared my devotion to Niklaus would cause everything to unravel. He compelled away ‘always and forever’, and my memory went with it since without it I’m nothing. I did eventually learn who and what I was, but without my memory the knowledge of my family meant nothing, so I fought against remembering.”

She gaped, feeling different tears threaten. “I’m…”

“Not the distraction you were hoping for,” he gave a wry smile.

“I’m so sorry that happened.” She swallowed, spotting the guilt in his eyes. He had done something, or neglected to do something, and someone must have been hurt.

“I’m sorry for whatever you’re blaming yourself for,” she adjusted the baby over her shoulder and reached for his hand before burping her, “but I feel pretty confident in saying it wasn’t your fault.”

“Perhaps not, but I’ll likely blame myself for a while yet.” He raised his hand to the baby’s back. “Names?”

“Is that the answer to ‘what’s the first thing I can screw up as a mother’?” She cupped the baby’s head, smiling when she released a tiny burp under Elijah’s ministrations. She cradled her in both arms, lowering her head to press a tender kiss on the downy cheek. “I should probably come up with something before Caroline comes back with the big book of children’s names.”

“You don’t think that would help?”

“I think Care would try to help, but the sheer volume of names will be overwhelming,” she peered down into the littlest face he had seen since Hope. “You wanna tell mommy your name, baby girl? Huh?”

She looked up, tilting her head in thought. The last cry she had heard came after the first gulp of air, and she knew that was down to Elijah’s care.

“I don’t think she’s going to be any help,” the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“They don’t talk much during the first year,” he nodded, “after that they never stop. Did you consider any names at all?”

“A few,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to bright eyes. “I liked Brooke and Harper and Ava, but I don’t think they fit. I liked Lily too.”

“For Lillian or Lilith?” He tilted his head.

“I wasn’t about to name my baby after a demon,” she rolled her eyes.

“That all depends on interpretation,” he smiled, motioning with one hand. “Lilith was Adam’s first wife, made from the same clay, but she refused to be subservient so she left the garden of Eden. So she has been interpreted as a dangerous demon, but she also represents female empowerment, autonomy and individuality.”

“All good things,” she agreed with a nod, “but the first thought is demon, and the next thing you know my sweet little girl is growing into a hellion and turning my hair grey.”

“That would be quite the change from the serene child in your arms,” he smiled, meeting the blue eyes.

“She is very serene,” one tiny arm got free. “If I call you Serena are you going to immediately rebel and act like a Lilith?”

She blinked up, slow and tranquil, watching her mother. Her fist waved as Elena said the name again.

“I think she likes it,” her hand closed around the fist.

“She likes you,” he nodded, “and your voice. And I think the name suits…” He looked over his shoulder, finding the source of the knock that interrupted him.

Bonnie leaned in the open door.

He stood up.

“Hey,” she greeted, “auntie Bonnie’s here; should she come back later?”

“Of course not,” Elena smiled, “get in here.”

“I didn’t know you had company,” Bonnie stood at the side of the bed. “I was hoping to cuddle a cute little baby.”

“That can be arranged,” she moved, carefully transferring the girl.

“Hello, sweetie,” Bonnie cooed, “do you have a name yet?”

“Serena,” Elena snapped her gown closed.

“That’s beautiful.” Her eyes lifted to Elijah questioningly.

“Are you recovered from the spell?” He pushed his hands into his pockets.

“I’m better,” she nodded. “I was hoping to talk to Elena… alone.”

“Then I shall take my leave for the time being,” he reached for his jacket. “I’ll see you soon Elena.”

He moved towards the door, pausing at the sound of her voice.

“Elijah…” he caught a slight flush on her cheeks. She chewed her bottom lip for a second and exhaled. “You could probably get away with it again.”

His heart fluttered as he turned giving her a hint of a smile and showing Bonnie the start of his own flush.

He left them in the room and moved towards the elevator with no intention to eavesdrop but their voices carried before he made the conscious decision to ignore them.

“Get away with what?”

“Murder,” came Elena’s dry reply. He chuckled. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Last night’s spell.”

Elijah froze with his finger over the button.

“It’s not a permanent solution, but with your help we can make it one.”

The doors glided open.

@elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @naughtynecromancer @ethanjwillis @cry-btch@geekofmanyfandoms @morsmornte @xanderling@bellemorte180@iw1shiknew@blndbandt@petrova-banz @bulldozed88 @njeancastro316

#Elena gilbert #Elijah mikaelson #elejah #Caroline forbes #bonnie bennett #the vampire diaries #the originals #legacies

[connordavidscamera]

First Date | Connor Brashier

A/n: this is a repost from my Shawn account!! This is my piece and is not stolen. 

Summary: neither of you are ready for this night to end. So what if it didn’t?

Warnings: switches POVs

Word count: 2.3k

***

“The night’s still young,” Connor says, looking at the clock on the dashboard.

I rest my head in the palm of my hand and look up at him, “What should we do?”

“We could just drive around. I’ve still got a full tank of gas if you’re down.”

I check the charge on my phone, it’s still at eighty percent, so I shrug. “Okay. Let’s do it. Where to?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere. You pick. Don’t even think about it. Just say the first thing that pops into your head.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“One… two… three.”

“The beach.” We say at the same time.

He smiles, “Then I guess we’re going to the beach.”

I shake my head, “Connor, the closest one is like two hours away.”

“Then I guess you should tell your roommate that something came up and you’re not going home tonight.”

I gape at him. 

“What?” He asks with a chuckle and I notice just how beautiful he is when he laughs.

“What are we even doing?” I ask in disbelief.

He turns on his signal light and merges into the empty lane next to us. “We’re having fun. Come on, it’s one night. Just do something crazy with me. Let’s go out to the water and watch the sun come up.”

“You’re insane, you know that?”

“I do.”

“This could get us in trouble.”

“With who?” He laughs and takes the hand that is currently holding my head in place. “Y/n, it’s no big deal. But… if it’s really bothering you, I don’t mind taking you back to your apartment. We can call it a night and I’ll take you out to the beach for our second date.” The sincerity in his voice makes me melt. But all I could focus on was that he wants to go on a second date with me.

I don’t say anything for a while, chewing on the inside of my cheek. 

“Well, what’s the verdict? I can get off at the next exit if you want.”

I don’t realize it, but I shake my head. “Keep going.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I place our laced hands in my lap. “I want to.”

“Okay,” Connor beams and focuses back on the road in front of us. “I guess you better get comfortable, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

I’m good just like this, I think but can’t bring myself to say as I smile stupidly at our joined hands. I feel him glance over at me again and I involuntarily shrink under his gaze. 

By midnight we’re cuddled up on the hood of his truck with coffee and snacks, talking about everything under the stars. 

“So wait, you were how old?” He asks, dumbfounded.

“I was six when I first started playing piano and was classically trained by eight. I can also play guitar, harp, cello, and the drums.”

He stares at me in amazement. “You're… wow. You’re fucking phenomenal.”

I shrug off the compliment, “I wouldn’t say all that.”

“You don’t have to. I just did.” He nudges my shoulder with his and smiles down at me. “What other hidden talents do you have?”

I hum and look up at the dark, never ending sky, lit by the moon and stars. “I did ballet for six years. From age nine to fifteen. I hated it.”

“What else?” His chin rests on his arms which rest on his knees. He’s so eager to get to know me and I don’t know what to do about that. I wasn’t used to the attention.

My face burns, “I, uh, have a tattoo. My parents know nothing about it. They’re really strict about that kind of stuff." 

"What is it? Where is it?”

I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Let’s go for a swim.”

“What?”

I slide off the hood of his truck and shrug off my cardigan. “Let’s go swimming.” I kick out of my sandals and place them over my discarded cardigan. 

“The water has to be at least negative three degrees.”

My jeans are next to go. He’s not at all fazed that I’m stripping right in front of him. “There’s only one way to find out.” I lift my shirt from my chest, revealing my rib tattoo, just peeking from under my red lace bra. “You coming or what?” I wink at him before turning around, skipping toward the ocean. 

The sound of his feet hitting the ground makes me smile. I’m thigh deep in the cold water before he catches up with me. “This is crazy, you know that?”

“Well how do you expect to drive all the way to the beach to not even get in the water?”

Connor chuckles and takes my hands. I stare up at him, smiling wide. “You have the most adorable smile.”

I bite my lip and look down at the water crashing against us. “Yeah? Well yours isn’t so bad, either.”

He boops my nose and I scrunch up my face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I mean it. You are downright adorable and I think… I could probably spend every waking moment with you if you let me.”

“Really now? You think you could handle that?”

“I do.”

“Well you are lucky, because I might want that too.”

“So,” he looks at my side where my inked skin is on display. “What’s the tattoo mean?”

“A little bit messy. A little bit ruined. A beautiful disaster. ” I swallow, “It’s a quote from my favorite book. I uh, I got it during one of my dark periods a few years ago.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Very much,” I nod.

“Can I feel it?”

“Sure,” I take his hand and place it just under the wire of my bra.

—

Her fingers are cold against mine, but I revel in the feeling. What we’re doing is far from what I expected to happen. I was just hoping to get a kiss by the time I dropped her off. But now I’m here, in just my boxers, freezing in the ocean with her. And she stands before me, eyes closed, breathing uneven, in nothing but her bra and panties. 

I run my fingers gently over the soft skin of her stomach and that’s when she shudders against me, making me melt. It’s intimate being this close to her, and something in me wants this to last forever. She looks so pretty standing in front of me, not a care in the world, just looking like the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. Her hair falls carelessly in her face, covering her burning cheeks. The moonlight basks her in this angelic light and I’m afraid that if I close my eyes, she’ll be gone.

I don’t realize I’ve been staring for so long until a cold gush of water hits me and I stumble back. Y/n’s laughing, no doubt at my shocked face, clutching her stomach. “Sorry,” she clears her throat. “This was just getting too serious for me.”

I wipe at my face, shaking my head. “Oh you’ve started a war.”

“No!” She says already starting to back away from me. 

“Yes,” I lunge for her and catch her before she gets too far. She squeals, her back flush against my chest. I spin her around a couple times before I throw her in. 

“Connor!” She screams, and stupid me very curiously wants to know how my name would sound when she screams it in different circumstances. 

We play around in the water for a while. Splashing and throwing and ducking and diving. It’s the most fun I’ve had on a date ever. This girl has me totally whipped and she doesn’t even know it yet.

After we’ve become all shriveled and the water has become too cold to be bearable, we make our way back to my car. I pull out a couple towels from my trunk and she narrows her eyes at me. “You just have random towels with you at all times?” She asks when I wrap one loosely around her shoulders.

I take mine and run it roughly over my damp hair. “My mom was always overly packed when my brother and I were kids. I guess I just took after her in that aspect. I always have extra clothes and blankets and everything.

She hums, gripping the towel tighter around her, her teeth chattering. "That’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” I muse. “Come on, let’s warm you up,” I walk around her and open the passenger door for her. She smiles gratefully and slips in. I take our clothes from the hood and walk back around to the driver’s side. I blast the heater and see her visibly relax. The dash reads twenty past three. “We still have a couple hours before sunrise. What should we do?”

She shifts in her seat to face me better. “Tell me about film. Like what made you want to do it?”

I sigh, “It’s dumb.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” her hand rests on my bare bicep. “Come on. I really want to know. I want to know you. I’ve told you probably everything you could possibly know about me. Now it’s your turn.”

I hum, “Okay. I guess - I started when I was pretty young. I always liked photos. I still do. But there’s just something about videos. When you can hear and see and feel the energy radiating from the crowd. Pictures are great, don’t get me wrong. Videos are just that little something extra. You get to fully relive a moment instead of just thinking back to it, when you can forget minor details.”

She smiles. “You’re amazing. You know that?”

My face flushes red and I rub the back of my neck sheepishly. “I’m okay, I guess.”

Another hour passes of us just talking about anything, we make our way back out to shore about an hour before the sun comes up. We’re walking hand in hand, neither of us particularly dressed - my jeans hang low on my hips, exposing the waistband on my boxers,  and she’s in my sweat top. The sleeves are so long, they bunch up at her wrist so she can comfortably hold my hand.

“What do you think about travel?” I ask her, looking down at her while she looks over the water beside us.

“Travel… hmm. I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to, it’s just hard with classes and stuff. Hard to find the time to get away, I guess.”

I nod, “Yeah, I get that.”

“What about you? You travel a lot with Shawn. Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah. No, it’s amazing. Exhausting, but amazing.”

“What’s your favorite place you’ve been to?”

“Italy was nice, I really liked Spain too.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. It’s basic, I know. I just always thought it looked pretty.”

Well maybe I can take you one day, I think to myself. “You’ll go someday. I’m sure of it.”

We sit down a short while later and I lean back on my hands as I watch her pull her messy hair into a bun. I want to kiss her, run my thumb over her cheekbones, feel the crushing weight of her lips against mine. She catches me staring and covers my eyes playfully, “Connor, stop!”

“What?” I take her hands and tangle our fingers again.

“You’re staring again,” she says, leaning into me, her head resting in the crook of my neck.

—

For a second my eyes flutter shut, but I will the sleepiness away. “What time does the sun come up?”

“Not for another twenty minutes. You got time to take a nap." 

I snuggle closer to him, loving the sea salt smell that coats his body - the scent in itself like a sweet lullaby. But I shake my head, "No, I’m okay. Let’s just,” I yawn. “Let’s just stay like this for a little bit.”

“We can do that,” he wraps one arm around my waist and we stay like this until the sky starts to become lighter and bluer, a comfortable silence still falling over us.

“It’s so pretty,” he says quietly, as if speaking any louder would ruin the moment.

“Yeah, it is.” I yawn again and bury myself into him again.

He chuckles. “You okay there?”

“You’re comfy,” I mumble. “Could fall asleep right here.”

“And I would love nothing more. But I unfortunately have to get us back home.”

“No,” I whine. “Don’t wanna go. Wanna stay here with you.”

“Well I guess we could stay a little longer. How about I take you to breakfast?”

“Like a second date?” I look up at him through hooded eyes.

“Well I haven’t taken you home yet. This is technically still date one.”

I smile, “Okay.”

He pats my thigh and I remove myself from him so he can stand. When he’s done dusting himself off, he holds a hand out to me. We’re dangerously close to each other as the sun basks us in the six o'clock light. His hands detangle from mine and find their way to my jaw. I’m extremely aware of everywhere my body touches his, and before I have the nerve to pull away, his lips are covering mine. I hum and wrap my arms around his neck, playing with the tufts of hair that would touch his collar if I wasn’t wearing his shirt. His tongue slides into my mouth and he bunches up the shirt, pulling me closer to him. 

When we pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine, trying to catch his breath. “Let’s go get you something to eat so I can get you home.”

I mock hurt. “Dang. Okay.”

“No,” he laughs. “Because if I take you home, that means I can take you on a second date. Maybe tomorrow?”

“You’d think after 15 hours you’d be tired of me.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think I ever could.”

***

I hope you enjoyed (again)! Please, like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

#connor brashier #connor brashier x reader #connor brashier x y/n #connor brashier imagines #connor brashier imagine #connor brashier fanfiction #connor brashier blurb #repost from old blog

[prettywordsyouleft]

Neighbourly

Summary: With a drip in your roof, you weren’t going to get any sleep if you stayed in your apartment. It was a good thing you had Jae as a neighbour who owed you a favour.

Pairing: Jae Park x reader

Genre: neighbours to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: So I have a drip in my roof and we’ve had a lot of rain lately. It means I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep as I suffer from misophonia, and this idea stems from waking up exhausted one morning after some heavy rain. Thankfully, I think I’ve solved my issue, now Y/N just needs to solve hers XD

Also, just want to thank @noona-clock because without B’s guidance over this, you probably wouldn’t be getting a DAY6 story today. Xxx

Word count: 3525

You convinced yourself everything was fine. Rolling onto your side, you composed yourself and asked for your slumber to come forth and take you into a peaceful dimension.

Instead, you heard it again.

Letting out a huff of air, you swapped to your other side more vigorously, trying to suppress the somewhat desperate expression now residing on your face.

You would sleep. You would get so much sleep that you were certain you would wake tomorrow fully rested.

It happened again, this time louder than before.

Who were you kidding; there would be no sleep within this predicament.

Sitting up, disgruntled, you glared up at your bedroom ceiling to the spot that seemed to be causing all the ruckus. With heavy rain falling endlessly from the heavens, of course, the roof in your apartment was leaking somewhere with the overflow. Although you didn’t have an actual leak yet, you could tell something was definitely dripping up in the ceiling. You had contacted your landlord earlier in the evening and he had promised someone would come over to clear out the gutters and look into the problem first thing on Monday morning. Given it was Friday night though, and rain was forecasted for the next day as well, you were already at the end of your tether.

You cursed your innate ‘gift’ to hear everything that happened around you.

Staring at the ceiling still, you wondered what you could do. The first thought you had was to shift out to your living room. Over the next ten minutes, you lugged your mattress off your bed and out into the small living space, knowing your tiny sofa just wouldn’t cut it. Once settled back on your bedding, you smiled forcibly and nodded to yourself slowly.

“Let’s get some sleep now,” you instructed your body and mind, closing your eyes and placing your hands over your waist lightly. A posture of peace and tranquillity. You would be slumbering in no time.

You could still hear the drip from out here.

You were laughing now at the ridiculous state of your frazzled mind. It was already closing in on midnight and you would be lucky if you caught the bare minimum of needed rest to function tomorrow. You would have to cancel brunch with your friends in order to return to a decent human after all of this.

But what could you do in the interim?

Glancing around your darkened apartment, you groaned heavily. The rain was too much to travel out in this late at night, and you thought that the constant lashing on the roof above would ease your mind from hearing the dripping pipe within the ceiling. Of course, being someone highly sensitive to sounds meant even if you didn’t want to, your brain was one step ahead of you and focusing solely on the dripping. Exclaiming how clever it was to decipher such a sound with the din outside.

For the umpteenth time in your life, you cursed how easy it was for you to process sounds faster and more precisely than others.

For the next hour, you played games on your phone since you were now wide awake. You caught up on Instagram stories and read a couple of updated fan-fictions. After that, you brewed one of your favourite teas, hoping with the calm aroma, your over-stimulated mind would fall asleep, dripping sound or not.

You were in front of your door twenty minutes later, contemplating an offer your neighbour had once given you.

“If you ever need anything, just knock on my door, Y/N. You’ve helped me out by letting me stay here this week; I’ll gladly return the favour at any time.”

His words played over in your mind as you stood there wrapped up in your blanket, hand half-raised for your front door handle. Jae’s apartment was across the hall from yours and would use a different gutter system than the one attached to yours. You were certain his home would be free from the incessant dripping right now and that was rather appealing.

But was it acceptable to knock on Jae’s door at this time? Surely this hour was out of the jurisdiction of being a friendly neighbour, right? You knew if Jae knocked on your door right now, he wouldn’t unless it was important. And you would no doubt be all too accommodating.

This was kind of important, and so you believed you should at least try.

Steeling yourself for the impending interaction, you placed a smile onto your lips, only to remove it. You needed to look as desperate as you felt. With this thought at the forefront of your mind, you stepped out of your door and over to his, knocking three times on it.

Your usual amount of knocks, of course.

Waiting for a minute, nothing seemed to happen. Resigned, you heaved your blanketing around for the dejected trek back into the dripping symphony within your roof.

“Y/N?” a voice called out sleepily and you whipped around, unbalanced within your blanket burrito. Jae’s eyes flashed open as he reached out to steady you, blinking slowly when you were stable again. “What are you… and like this… is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you started, widening your eyes in what you hoped would show just how distraught you were.

Because you were beyond all rationale now.

“My roof has a leak and I’ve tried to sleep but it just won’t stop dripping and-”

Jae swung his door open wider, padding back inside. You wondered if he was about to shut the door over your ridiculous predicament, yet it remained open and you waited to see what would happen next. He reappeared, scratching at the back of his head in confusion. “Are you coming in?”

“Oh, that was you inviting me in, right,” you babbled and waddled into his home with your array of blanket ends dragging on the ground. Stepping into his small living area, you eyed the sofa in relief. “Thank you, I’ll just take the sofa and-”

“You nursed me for an entire week when I was so sick and my heating went out, do you really think I’m going to let you crash on my sofa?!”

You blushed at his memory and shrugged lightly. “I’m not fussed, honestly.”

“I am, you look like you’re about to strangle something if you don’t get any sleep. I’ll take the sofa, and you can have my bed.”

“Are you sure?”

Jae nodded firmly, prodding you and all of your blanket into his room. Taking his top blanket off the bed, he then gestured for you to lay down, wishing you a restful sleep and closed the door.

You thought it would take some time to fall asleep. After all, you had been so wired up until this point. However, as soon as you were comfortably arranged under your blanket, sleep finally reached out for you and took you off into a deep dream state.

So deep, that you didn’t feel the bed dip when Jae climbed onto it in his own sleepy stupor, nor were you bothered when you rolled into him and felt the warmth of lying next to another person. In fact, you relished in it, burying in deeper and sleeping soundly until the light of the morning infiltrated the room and you had finally gained sufficient hours of sleep.

And then you became aware.

How, when a single dripping sound had almost driven you to a complete meltdown, had you not woken up to Jae climbing into bed with you?! Why was he here anyway? Was the sofa too cold? Did something happen? Your mind raced with multiple scenarios and the longer you contemplated them, the further you became aware of other things around you. Like the arm Jae had slung over your waist loosely and how you hadn’t yet moved it away.

Glancing down at his limb, you chewed on your bottom lip thoughtfully. Should you disturb him? After all, it was a little inappropriate even if you were friendly, to be sleeping this intimately with your neighbour. Yet, you hadn’t been held like this in some time, and a large part of you was kind of enjoying it. Jae’s warmth comforted you and his even breathing made you smile.

No, you couldn’t wake him up.

But what about breakfast? You were hungry by now and it wouldn’t be long until your stomach started to be vocal about it. You didn’t need the embarrassment of not only waking Jae up overnight but expecting breakfast as well.

You were a woman of standards! If anything, it would make sense for you to get up now, head home and make a delicious thank you breakfast and then bring a portion over for Jae. Could you simply look within his refrigerator instead and cook here? Jae would need to eat breakfast. You could just save the trip home and cook for him here.

For the two of you.

You blushed at the thought of doing something like that here.

You were neighbours though, and neighbours this close could make food for one another and not be offended. Or misconstrue sentiments like arms over waists and being in the same bed together.

Right?

It was already too late for logic, your body temperature clearly indicated how affected you were with Jae’s arm over you.

Now was the time to leave. To escape this heady experience where you fell in love with Jae over a drip in the roof and a fumbled, poorly constructed excuse from him about why he was sleeping beside you in the first place.

Life wasn’t a fairytale and you had slept all too well within Jae’s bed because you needed a cold dose of reality to put you in check.

Move, you willed yourself, and you shifted agonisingly slow from Jae’s slumbering side, gently lifting his arm off of you in the process. Before you were fully out from under him, Jae moved, curling the arm you had almost succeeded in escaping back around you and pulling you toward his warm body.

You held your breath, eyes wide when, “Don’t go yet,” tumbled from his lips.

“But I need to.”

“Why?” he mumbled, tightening his arm over you. He let out a deep breath, inhaling you in as he settled back into your side. “Whyyy?”

God, was he always this cute when half-asleep? You thought back to the time when you had looked after him. Jae had definitely been an adorable, albeit whiny patient. He would try to damper down his demands, yet you had fussed over him, making it easy for you to succumb to his whims. During that week, you had gotten to know him pretty well, and one thing that you remembered was his little mumbles whenever he was half-asleep. You had little conversations with him during those moments until he fell asleep, smiling the whole time at his little pouts and whines.

Right now though, he wasn’t sick and you needed to stop smiling.

“I have to go home.”

“No, stay.”

“But I’m hungry,” you continued and he sighed again.

“So eat with me.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed and you couldn’t help but let the small smile itching to cross your lips spread out. Jae nuzzled in again, content with your lack of a response. “Just ten more minutes.”

It didn’t make it to that time before Jae finally became alert. His grip around you loosened off and his posture changed. You realised the dream had come to an end and sat up quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you mentioned, smoothing down your bed hair. “I should have pushed you off. You’re surprised, right? I was too when I found you in here instead of on the sofa but-”

“I must’ve come in here after going to the bathroom,” he explained, though he was smiling.

You nodded all too quickly, reaching out for your blanket to pull off and go home. Back to the dripping and the clarity that would come within your own space.

Jae grabbed on, preventing your hasty escape. “Are you embarrassed?”

“Thank you for letting me stay over.”

“You are,” he commented, chuckling to himself.

It irked you. “Well, it’s not every morning that I expect to wake up in your arms, Jae.”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

“It was just a thing that happened since we were both sleepy and now that we’re…” you trailed off when he tilted his head to the side, his expression still bemused. You stared back at him until he nudged you.

“And now that we’re…?” he prompted, causing you to blink rapidly. He chuckled again. “If I knew you were this cute to wake up to every morning, I would do it more often.”

Excuse me?

You took in his expression properly, noticing behind the amusement, Jae actually looked like he was enjoying this. Not the teasing, well, he was having his fun. But holding you had meant something more than coincidence. You weren’t some other girl he was dreaming of whilst he held you.

It dawned on you that when he was talking to you before, when he stopped you from leaving; it was because he knew it was you.

And he didn’t want it to end either.

Jae got up as you sat there reeling from your discovery, leaving you sitting in his bed as he departed the room. Only to stick his head around the threshold a moment later. “Didn’t you say you were hungry?”

Leaping out from the bed, you ensured your pyjamas were straight before you stepped into the living room, now finding Jae in the kitchen preparing a simple breakfast. You silently joined him and soon you were both seated at his small table to eat. You had just taken a bite of your toast when Jae spoke again.

“Did you contact your landlord?”

You nodded, swallowing down your food before replying. “He said someone would come out Monday morning.”

“Where’s the drip?”

“Bedroom ceiling.”

Jae nodded softly, contemplating. He looked up at you and smiled. “You can stay here until it’s fixed.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t do that, I’ll just go home to my parents for the weekend,” you hurried to say and Jae shook his head.

“Why, you slept fine here last night. Don’t they live like an hour away?”

You didn’t want to inform him of just how well you had slept. You were convinced it was driven from pure exhaustion and not because he somehow wound up at your side during the night.

You wouldn’t let yourself believe in it being any other reason, for the remaining sanity you held onto.

“I can’t expect you to give up your bed for another night,” you told him and Jae chuckled.

“Two nights, and you gave up a whole lot more for me when I was sick.”

“You needed my help back then.”

“And now you need mine,” he pointed out, staring back at you.

You realised he wasn’t going to let up and decided to be straight-forward with him. “I don’t think it’s wise for me to stay again. It’s not that I don’t want to, I appreciate your offer-”

“But?” he interjected and you tried to smile.

“I don’t want to draw conclusions in the wrong way.”

“Like what?” He now leaned his head on a hand, the ghost of a smile licking at the corners of his lips. Was he really fighting back the urge to laugh right now?

Blushing, you glanced away. “It was nice, this morning was. But it can’t happen again.”

“Why not?”

Your head snapped back in his direction and he was smiling now. It was charming and you soaked it in like the love fool you were becoming. Blinking slowly, you then shook off the effect and squared your shoulders. “We’re neighbours.”

“That we are.”

“It would be inappropriate if something happened again.”

“Like me holding you?”

“Must you be so blatant about it?!” you hissed and he finally laughed, nodding once.

“I need to since you’re so blind to my advances otherwise,” Jae announced, folding his arms over his chest. He smirked before continuing. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I won’t pressure you into staying again even if it is the most convenient. And whilst it was an honest sleep-driven mistake that I came back to my bedroom overnight, I’m not ashamed of my actions. You clearly were comfortable with it, heck I think you even liked it more than you’re letting on.”

Your cheeks flamed with obvious colour.

“I just want you to know, it’s fine by me. Us being just neighbours. Or neighbours that share the bed when in a predicament.”

“Or?” you continued, sensing the rest of his sentence that remained on the tip of his tongue. Jae studied you for a moment longer before he answered.

“Or we could be more than just neighbours and admit there’s something between us. At least, I think so.”

You couldn’t deny it; you had had a soft spot for Jae since he had been ill. But was that just it? Fellow comradeship that helped you get through the daily grind? No, you knew there was more to it. You wouldn’t just allow someone else to hold you like Jae had. And even if it had made you anxious initially, he was right.

You had liked it, a whole lot.

“I mean, even if you accept option number three, I can totally sleep on the sofa again tonight.”

“What, so you can stumble in during the night like you did?” you teased and Jae gaped at you dramatically.

“I’ll have you know I can be a gentleman. In fact, I didn’t cross the line even if I did end up climbing into bed with you.”

He had a point. And honestly, the longer you discussed it, the more at ease you were becoming.

It was also kind of giddying to know he liked you more than just a friend, and you were definitely fuelled on by this.

Besides, you were a grown adult. You could share a bed with Jae without doing anything crazy. And even if you did, well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, right?

You decided with how fast your heart started to thump in your chest that keeping things simple for now would be better. You needed a place to stay and Jae was offering you one.

And if it came with his warmth and arm over your body free of service, well, who were you to complain?

Smiling, you nodded. “I’ll stay, thank you.”

“Any stipulations?” he asked, grinning genuinely. It made you mirror his reaction, shaking your head a moment later. Jae leaned closer. “You’re sure about that?”

“Well, you’re right, there is no rush. But if you’re going to just end up coming back into your bed by habit in the middle of the night, you might as well just start out there. Besides, it’s your home, and I’m your guest. I am happy to go with whatever works best.”

“How does a pre-ritual before bed sound then?” he wondered and you frowned at his suggestion. Jae laughed at your reaction and pointed to the sofa he had slept on last night. “We could start there together. Watch a movie or two, eat popcorn, and just enjoy a rainy night in. And then when it comes to bedtime, we can decide what we’re comfortable with then.”

You relaxed, nodding in agreement. Eying the dismal world outside his apartment window, you then turned back to Jae. “What are you doing today?”

“Nothing much with all this rain, why?”

“Should we start the ritual now? Today’s the perfect day for a movie marathon.”

“Is this when I find out whether our tastes in cinematic replay match or not?”

You giggled. “It’s an important thing to discover!”

“You’re on.”

“I’ll just go home and get changed and then come back with supplies. Can’t have it be just only your movies that we watch.”

Jae agreed heartily and with breakfast now finished, you got up, heading to the door of his apartment. He followed you, and you turned to smile at him before reaching for the handle. Just as you were about to open it, he took a hold of your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

He hesitated before smiling at you. “You’re beautiful when you first wake up in the morning.”

Not knowing what to say, you tried not to smile too wide or blush too much, gave his hand a squeeze before you stepped out and over to your own apartment. Taking a moment to regulate your breathing, you bit your lip to suppress the squeal that rose up in your throat, in case Jae was still by his door and heard you. Pushing away from your door, you went into your bedroom, glancing up at the affected area. You listened for the sound of the drip and when you heard it, your smile grew.

You had a lot to thank the rain for.

_________________

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[httpjeon]

04. hot bot ― jungkook (m.)

jungkook/reader | android!au, hotbot!au | smut, angst, fluff

wordcount: 5.1k

contents: ATTEMPTED MURDER, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, praise kink, light cockwarming, choking, rough sex, soft sex, tit slapping, clit slapping, lots of kisses and caressing

― synopsis: you make your decision. but was it really the right one?

note: this is it, yall! ... i wonder what that ending means?

blog masterlist ― series masterlist

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost or modify.

There was a heavy beat of silence, you took a moment to glance over to where Jungkook was sitting on the floor. Bleach was playing but his eyes were completely empty and blank as he watched the animations flash across the screen.

You could remember the nights that Jungkook would sneak out of bed to watch Bleach when it came on at midnight on television. Even though he wasn't caught up on the series enough to understand what was going on. The show brought him so much joy and now he didn't even seem to register that the TV was even on.

It was sad.

"What do you think?" You asked softly, keeping your gaze on Jungkook.

"It's not my decision to make," Yoongi replied calmly, not giving you even a hint on what he was thinking. His response frustrated you but also reminded you that you couldn't make you choice based on someone else's opinions.

As you gazed at the empty shell that was Jungkook, many thoughts passed through your brain.

Just as with any person, or...think, in his case, capable of thought -- or once was capable, he deserved a chance, right? He deserved the chance to live as he wanted and as he deserved. But you didn't want the two of you to be forced to live on the run or in hiding because there was the chance you would be arrested and he would be terminated.

Is giving a chance to a robot, a chance that could most definitely go wrong, worth the potential of spending your life in prison?

And what if something went wrong? What if you became responsible for the death of other because you caused Jungkook to go defective and he killed people? Could you live with that?

As Yoongi's eyes glared into you, awaiting your decision, you felt in your heart what you had to do -- what you wanted to do.

"Let's do it,"

"Do you have tools?" Yoongi asked, following you when you led him to the closet where you kept things for storage.

Since you were a girl who lived alone, you had taken to keeping some tools around yourself to fix things up if you were able to. You were relatively handy and it was much cheaper buying tools than hiring someone for $1,000 so they could fix a leaking pipe.

You were tense but Yoongi seemed as cool as a cucumber. There were many thoughts and fears flowing through your mind but you made no move to stop Yoongi as he began to set up on the couch behind where Jungkook was still sitting.

He didn't even acknowledge you when you moved around him. Perhaps he went into sleep mode? The old Jungkook never did because he enjoyed being...alive.

"Jungkook," Yoongi spoke, voice as empty as Jungkook's eyes. The robot turned his head to look over his shoulder at Yoongi.

"Yes?" He responded monotonously.

"Can you take off your shirt?" Yoongi asked, confusing you.

Jungkook immediately did as he was asked, pulling his shirt off and dropping it onto the floor beside him. Mindlessly, you went over and collected it. You played with it for a moment, keeping a watchful eye on what Yoongi was doing.

First, he began messing with Jungkook's activation button -- glowing blue to indicate his active status. To your shock, the skin around the button began to peel away when Yoongi pulled the little LED indicator out. It was almost like the indicator was holding in the seams -- keeping his skin connected and on his body.

Beneath the skin was a a mechanic exoskeleton -- wires and metal everywhere along with blinking lights and screws of many types.

As Yoongi picked up a screwdriver and began pulling out screws and unhooking wires you noticed that Jungkook seemed to have shut down. His eyes were closed and his head was hanging low with his chin against his chest.

"Y-You know what you're doing, right?" You asked softly, hugging Jungkook's discarded shirt against your chest.

Yoongi paused in his work to glance at you through the mess of his black bangs.

"Of course I do," Was his easy answer.

You inhaled deeply and decided that you didn't want to watch Yoongi finish this work. You didn't want to watch him pick apart Jungkook and possibly cause an end to lives -- be it yours or others.

You had managed to get a two loads of laundry done, the only sound in your apartment being filled with the washing machine, dryer, and the sound of metal being moved as Yoongi worked. You were growing sleepy, closing your eyes where you stood in the kitchen as you made a small pot of coffee. You didn't want to fall asleep before Yoongi finished his work. You wanted to be awake for the end result.

As you sat down at your kitchen table, both hands wrapped around the mug of coffee you drank Yoongi walked in. His hands were covered in grease and oil, fingertips marked black and a little smudge on his cheeks from where he pushed his bangs away. He didn't say a word as he sat down across from you. You offered him your cup, wanting to wait to hear the result for as long as possible. You were nervous.

Yoongi took a sip, cringing slightly when it was too bitter for his tastes before handing it back.

"I'm finished," He said suddenly, making you chuckle at the announcement.

"I figured," You took another sip, mentally noting that it really was a bit too bitter. You were too caught up in your thoughts to put the right amount of sugar in.

"He's still not activated," Yoongi said, getting up to get a drink of water to chase the bitter taste out of his mouth. "If you want, you can come in when I do it,"

"Why haven't you yet?" You asked.

"His computer software needs a moment to compute the changes to his system," He explained. "It's kind of like updating your phone or your computer. He's got new software so it'll take a minute,"

"I...I'll be there," You muttered. "Just let me finish my coffee,"

It was several minutes of silence, just sipping on your coffee with Yoongi's watchful eyes on you. He didn't rush you nor did he seem in a rush. When you finished, you placed the empty mug in the sink and followed Yoongi to where Jungkook was.

He was still in the same position -- chin tucked into his chest and eyes closed. His skin was back in place with the activation button glowing an ominous yellow. Yoongi hummed, sitting down where he was before and pressing the button.

Immediately, the button began to glow its usual blue color. Jungkook's eyes opened and he lifted his head, blinking several times as if clearing his vision.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi asked only to receive no response.

"What's wrong?" You whimpered, wondering why he wasn't responding like he should.

"He's just a little slow to start, it happens sometimes," Yoongi began gathering the tools and putting them back in your toolbox. You kept your gaze on the unresponsive Jungkook who now was looking at his hands like they were foreign objects. "He should be back to normal in a couple hours,"

"Are you sure?" You asked, taking the toolbox from Yoongi and wandering down the hallway to put them back where they were.

"Positive," He responded coolly, putting his jacket back on. "Just give me a call if you need me, alright?"

"Yeah, thank you Yoongi," He placed a kind hand on your shoulder, smiling ever so slightly at you.

"It'll be alright, I promise," His words had you relaxing slightly and you nodded before leading him out the door.

Once he was out of sight down the hallway, you shut your door.

You tried to wait up for Jungkook to come back around, sipping on your bitter coffee and watching the episode of One Piece that was now playing on TV. But soon, as your head lulled onto the arm rest, the television faded into the background and you slipped into sleep.

You were rudely awoken with a shriek of surprise as a heavy body landed on yours. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and you became aware of the sobs filling the room.

"It's really you!" Jungkook cried, burying his face in your neck. "You're really here!"

"J-Jungkook," You whispered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bury your hands in his hair. "You're back!"

"I can't believe --" He pulled back away from you and you laughed, seeing the tears trickling down his cheeks. Smiling through your own tears, you used your thumbs to wipe his away.

Before you could squeeze out another word, his lips were on yours. The kiss was full of so many emotions and a passion that had more tears trickle from your eyes. His hands slid under your thighs and he pulled you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He navigated to your bedroom just like old times, knowing your apartment like the back of his hand. Dumping you on the bed, you realized how nice it was to have him -- the real him, on top of you again.

"I missed you so much," You whispered, meeting his smiling eyes.

"I know," He replied, leaning down to whisk you into another breathtaking kiss.

No other words needed to be spoken, everything being conveyed through soft caresses and loving kisses pressed to each others lips. Jungkook worshiped your body, remembering every curve and detail and touching you like he was making up for lost time. Part of you wondered if he remembers the mindless, empty sex you had when you bought him again.

You would get to that later.

As your clothes were shed, the both of you with your bodies pressed together. He was hard -- leaking against your thigh. With his fingers inside you and sliding hotly against your clit, you were thrown into your first orgasm. You could cry, hearing Jungkook's little praises and feeling him kiss your skin as you came down.

You had no problems when he slid into you, stretching you just the way you liked. He angled his hips, brushing your g-spot as he fucked you -- his pelvic bone meeting your clit every time he bottomed out had you keening in seconds. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing against your hard nipples as you gasped.

"Jungkook," You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck to press another kiss to his lips.

It was sloppy and uneven as he fucked you through it. Your tongues met, bringing the kiss into messy and sloppy rather than soft and passionate. Still, there was undeniable love in the meeting of your lips.

Once the kiss broke, you were taken aback by how dark his eyes became. Biting his lip, he smirked down at you -- a look that had you clenching pathetically around his cock.

Abandoning his hold on your breasts, his hands wrapped around your throat. Your heart jumped in your chest -- this wasn't the first time he'd done this. In fact, it had brought you some phenomenal orgasms in the past.

You clawed at any skin you could reach, pulled your own hair and tugged at the sheets beneath you. He kept his dark gaze on you, biting his own lip as he watched you writhe beneath him. His hair was a mess -- probably as much as your own was. You were panting, struggling to breathe around the heaviness of his hands around your throat.

It didn't take long before you reached your peak, back arching beneath him as your cunt clenched his cock. His hips stuttered and he moaned out his own release. He filled you up -- warm and thick and it began to leak out around his cock as he fucked you through both of your releases. He began to slow his pace until he stopped completely.

It took you a second to realize that his grip around your throat hadn't released. No, instead it was tightening. Your eyes widened as it became harder and harder to breathe.

Your hands flew up to try and pull his hands off of you and push him away. When he stared down at you with dark, emotionless eyes you began to really panic. You have no idea how, but after delivering a sharp kick to his side he was knocked over. His hands came loose from your neck as he used them to steady himself. You took that opportunity to weasel out from beneath him.

"Jungkook..." You whispered, noticing that the once blue LED was now a solid and ominous red. He stood up, facing you with that same scary blank expression on his face. "D-Don't..."

He said nothing as he began to advance towards you -- heavy steps hitting the floor. You were backed into the wall with nowhere to go, your only exit being blocked by him. If you ran towards it, he'd catch you for sure. You didn't know what to do.

"Jungkook, please!" You cried, tears falling from your eyes as you watched him. You were trembling, terrified that he was actually going to kill you. Before you knew it, he was in front of you -- looming over you and staring down at you through his bangs. They were still messy from where you had ran your fingers through them.

He showed no signs of hearing you or he just didn't care. One hand found your throat again and your sob was cut off by him slamming you back into the wall. In the slight darkness of the room, you could make out the faint red glow from his LED.

"P-Please don't h-hurt me Jungkook," You sobbed, gripping his wrist in your trembling hands. "I-I love you, please, Jungkook!"

His words seemed to bring him to a halt. The solid red began rapidly blinking and Jungkook's brows furrowed. His jaw set and for a moment his grip tightened around you throat so hard you saw spots in your vision.

Then all at once, he was gone from you and you tumbled to the floor coughing. Looking up, you found Jungkook backing away, staring at his hands as if they had betrayed him.

"_-_____...I..." In a flash, he was pulling on his clothes. Still recovering from nearly being choked out, you struggled to get to your feet to chase him out. The slam of the door was what finalized his departure.

You realized that the red had been replaced with the calm blue once again before he left.

You had no idea how long you waited for him -- the sun had come up and then disappeared through the covering of clouds before rain began to fall. Looking out the window, you thought of the fact that Jungkook was out in the rain somewhere. Maybe he was scared? Maybe he was crying? Maybe he...maybe he had hurt someone else.

That last thought spurred you into action and you were throwing on a jacket and your shoes.

It was coming down pretty hard outside, the streets vacant and quiet aside from the occasional car zooming by. As you stood on the sidewalk, unsure of where to go and shivering you had half a mind to call Yoongi. He'd surely be asleep but -- then you remembered a place he would go.

You took off down the street, ignoring the fact that when you stepped in a puddle water filled your shoes and soaked your socks.

By the time you reached the river, you were panting but the rain had slowed to a simple drizzle. You let out a big sigh of relief at the sight of Jungkook huddled beneath a tree. His arms were bugging his knees to his chest and his face was buried in them. He looked so...small.

"Jungkook," You muttered, your voice just loud enough to hear over the running water. His head snapped up and whipped around to look at you. His back went stiff and his eyes widened. "Come home,"

He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. You smiled sympathetically, holding your hand out for him to take. As his hand slid into yours, you couldn't help but feel a flash of fear at remembering how just a couple hours ago they were wrapped around your throat trying to kill you.

Jungkook seemed to notice your thoughts his shoulders slumped, head bowing forward so you couldn't see his face past the curtain of his bangs.

The way things changed between the two of you was immediately noticeable. Jungkook carried on around you as if he were walking on eggshells. He stuck to gentle touches and even refused to sleep next to you.

When you begged him to sleep with you, you would often wake up in the middle of the night to find him curled up on the couch watching TV. He wouldn't stay with you.

It was almost as if he were scared of himself.

He wasn't the only one. You were scared of him as well.

Every once in a while, he would sneak into the room and you would jump so hard there was no way he didn't notice it. No, he couldn't ignore the small flinches and looks of fear you threw his way whenever he snuck around. He wasn't trying to scare you or sneak around, he was just being cautious. But even then, he still managed to frighten you.

You decided, one day, that you wanted to find out what went wrong. So you called Yoongi.

He showed up, brows furrowed after hearing that Jungkook had...turned violent. He was shocked to simply find him eating a couple of pink frosted cupcakes you had made while watching I Love Lucy on TV.

"He just...stopped..." You had explained what went wrong, how Jungkook had choked you but he wouldn't stop. How the LED had turned red, blinked, and turned back to blue before he ran away.

"I think there was a minor glitch," Yoongi's use of the word minor made you twitch. Attempting to murder you was a minor glitch. You'd hate to see a major glitch.

"So, what now?" You prodded, watching Yoongi pull out his tools again.

"Hey Jungkook," Yoongi drew the androids attention away from the television. "I'd like to check you out again, yeah?"

"Sure," He agreed easily, pulling his shirt off and turning his back to Yoongi.

"Tell me what happened," Yoongi asked, pulling Jungkook activation button off just like he had last time.

"I don't know," Jungkook replied honestly, sounding choked up now. "I just...I couldn't stop. My mind was telling me to stop but my body just wouldn't. It was so hard to control,"

"How did you stop then?" Yoongi asked, prodding with a little blinking light beneath Jungkook's skin.

"When I heard her tell me she loves me...I just...stopped,"

It didn't take too long before Jungkook was back to his normal self -- mechanic inside covered back up. When you, Yoongi, and Jungkook were all gathered at the kitchen table you were able to find out what happened.

"He managed to override the glitch himself," Was Yoongi's certain response.

You had no idea that was something he was even able to do himself. But for some reason the news that he was capable of that had given you a sense of ease. If he could override his own glitch once he could do it again.

When you and Jungkook were alone, Yoongi having left, you were in a comfortable silence.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" You asked, cuddling yourself closer to his chest.

"I'm going to stay up a bit," He mumbled, predictably. It was his way of confession that he didn't want to sleep with you tonight without outright rejecting you.

Your heart hurt and you gave him a soft kiss to his cheek before heading to your room for the night. You didn't know why, but when your head hit the pillow you couldn't fight the tears that stung your eyes. That night, you fell asleep on a wet pillow.

Sobbing woke you up. You felt a sense of deja vu as you quickly realized Jungkook was clinging to you and crying. The alarm clock on your bedside table had 3:23AM in blaring red.

"I'm so sorry," He sobbed, face buried in your hair as he cried. You attempted to turn around to face him but he tightened his grip on you to keep you from seeing him. "I hurt you and I'm sorry,"

"Jungkook, it's o--"

"Don't say it's okay!" He snapped tightening his hold on you. "You're scared of me and that's never okay. God, I almost killed you, _____!"

"I know..." Your reply had his grip loosening and you used that opportunity to turn around and face him. When you saw the heartbroken, lost look in his eyes you felt tears pricking your own.

"You never should have brought me back," Your eyes widened at his words. "If you had just let me rot as a mindless object, you wouldn't have been hurt and you wouldn't be scared of me. I deserve to be nothing. I don't deserve what you've given me, _____,"

"That;s not true at all," You hissed, sitting up to glare at him. "I love you, Jungkook,"

"You shouldn't,"

"Well I do!" You snapped, throwing the covers off in a huff to stand up. "I don't care what you did. You didn't mean it. You came back to me when I told you I loved you, Jungkook. I don't know about you but that means something to me,"

"_____,"

"I love you so much, Jungkook," By now the tears began to drip down your cheeks. "Please tell me you love me too,"

Your words had Jungkook leaping from the bed. His arms wrapped around your waist and his lips found yours in a well-practiced kiss. He held you so fiercely, your body flush against his as if he was shielding you from everything around you. For the first time since that night, you didn't feel an ounce of fear go through your body.

"I love you so much, I love you more than anything," He confessed, the words a whisper against your lips. You erupted into a tearful laugh as he kept repeating the phrase even as you found yourself pressed against the bed once again.

Your whispers dissolved into breathing as you both shared kiss after kiss. Strong hands pulled your clothes off until your bare back was against the soft comforter, the clean scent of your detergent filling your senses.

Jungkook was more than willing to allow you to strip him until he was just as bare as you. Your fingertips were gentle as they traveled down his soft skin, past the ridges of his hips until you were met with the heat of his cock. Wrapping your hand around him elicited a small gasp from him. Collecting a bead of his precum on your finger, you made a show of popping the digit in your mouth and moaning at his sweet taste.

"You drive me crazy," He whispered, spreading your thighs so he could position himself comfortably between them.

Wrapping his own hand around his cock, you felt yourself nearly drooling as he slowly fucked his own fist. Making sure his length was well lubricated with his precum, he positioned himself at your entrance.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he pushed himself inside you. The stretch was a burn at the lack of prep given, but you couldn't care less -- it felt phenomenal to have him inside you like this. He touched your body wherever he could, cupping your breasts and grazing his way up your thighs.

His pace was controlled, not too fast but not slow enough to be teasing. He knew exactly what you needed in that moment and you were sure it was what he needed as well.

Balancing his weight on his elbows beside your head, his lips briefly brushed yours in a fleeting kiss.

Your bodies were pressed close together -- chest to chest. Every time he sunk into you he met your clit, drawing a cry of pleasure from you. His cock grazed your g-spot with experienced ease, only driving your closer to an early end.

"It's okay, baby," He cooed, nosing softly against your neck before delivering a soft kiss there. "I'm gonna cum too,"

Your lips met his and before you knew it, you both were falling into orgasm together. Your body trembled beneath his, safe and comforted beneath his close warmth. He gasped into your mouth, hips stuttering against yours as your walls clenched desperately around him to milk him of his orgasm. His warmth filled you up, his cock twitching inside you as he gave you his load.

Slowly, he sat up, watching as you caught your breath beneath him. You were still pulsing around him through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"I don't want to hold back anymore," He whispered, sitting back to sit on his heels. You felt so exposed beneath his leering gaze even though you were still speared on his cock. "I want to fuck you now. Can I?"

"Y-Yes, yes please," You whined, clutching the sheets beneath you as you looked up at him. His hair was a mess, courtesy of your wandering hands.

"Good girl," He whispered, moving his hand down to find your clit.

You keened when his deft fingers brushed against the swollen bud, still sensitive from your orgasm. Despite your trembling reaction to his touch, he continued to touch you. Stuffed on his cock, your walls clenched around him as he hurled you into another orgasm.

As you began to come down, he started fucking you in earnest. You gasped, eyes rolling back into your head. He didn't give you a moment to truly come down from you high, your body was overly-sensitive. A shit-eating smirk crawled across his handsome face the louder your cries of pleasure got.

"Do you feel good?" He cooed, the sound of skin slapping filling the space as you quieted down to respond to him.

"S-So good, fuck," You cried, reaching up to claw at the pillow above your head, needing something to hang onto as his pace increased.

"You're such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this," He growled, sliding his hands up to cup your breasts. "Look at your pretty tits,"

"Fuck," You whined at his dirty words, cunt clenching around him in response.

He pinched your nipples, the light sting making your back arch as you were eager to get more. Jungkook, biting his lip, watched with his pupils blown wide in lust at your eager reaction to his touches.

Suddenly, there was a sharp sting blooming across your breast. Jungkook outright laughed, a sadistic sound that had you whimpering as he supplied another burning slap to your breast.

"I can feel you gush around me when I slap your pretty tits, babygirl," He growled, smacking you again and this time you cried out. Your skin was burning, but he was right -- you did only get wetter with every impact. "You like being slapped huh? Answer me,"

"Y-Yes, I like it!" You gasped, Jungkook slapping your other breast this time -- the new sting lighting up your body.

"How about," His hand traveled down your stomach until they met your clit -- hard and neglected. "if I slap you here?"

You nodded, eyes wide as you awaited the impact.

When it came, you were sent flying into yet another orgasm; this one was much more powerful. As you gushed, Jungkook rained down more smacks to your clit -- making you almost shriek through your orgasm. Through it all, Jungkook's hips never stopped, he abused your g-spot with no mercy.

FInally, he began to let you come down. You were panting beneath him, your chest heaving with every breath. Your whole body was sweaty, your hair sticking to your slick skin and you were sure you looked a mess. But still, Jungkook leaned closer to you to press a gentle kiss against your lips.

"Breathe, baby," He whispered, caressing your body to help the trembles settle. "Good girl, you're so beautiful,"

You shared a kiss, your lips moving together calmly. He cupped your cheek, smiling into the kiss as it deepened. When you both finally pulled away, he looked at you with wide eyes.

"_____," Hearing your name had you looking more clearly at him in question. "I want to try something,"

You immediately consented, already eager to see what he wanted to do. However, when his hand wrapped around your throat, you felt your heart leap in panic. Jungkook seemed to notice this and leaned down, kissing your lips softly again.

"Just trust me," He whispered, beginning to move his hips once again. Your eyes rolled at the feeling, still feeling overly sensitive from your previous orgasms. "I won't hurt you,"

Hearing those words with his hand wrapped around your throat -- where he could easily kill you. How he almost did before. It put you more at ease.

His eyes were fond on you when you reached up to grip his hand around your throat -- urging him to tighten his grip.

Part of you still felt scared when it tightened, but his words -- urging you to trust him, assuring that he wouldn't hurt you, repeated in your head. Jungkook's other hand traveled down to find your clit.

"Cum with me," He growled, tightening his hold even more on your throat.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as your orgasm hit. Just as you reached your peak, he released his hold and you gasped for air. Jungkook came too -- filling you up even more. His cum gushed out of of you, mixing beneath your body on the bed.

Finally the two of you stilled, Jungkook pulling out from you. He didn't seem to mind your sweat-slicked body being pressed to his as he pulled you into his side.

"Do you think this will work?" He asked suddenly, kissing the crown of your head.

"It has to," You mumbled, hugging him tighter against you.

Just as Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, your phone began to ring. You reached over Jungkook's body to grab where it was sitting plugged in to charge.

"Jimin?" You muttered, seeing his name flash on your screen to indicate he was the caller.

Picking up the phone, you didn't even have a chance to say hello before Jimin was muttering out panicked words. You responded the best you could before he suddenly hung up with a soft cuss.

"What was that?" Jungkook asked, sitting up in curiosity now.

"I...I'm not really sure, something about Hot Bot Inc.,"

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts preferences #jungkook preferences #bts reactions #jungkook reactions #bts fanfics #jungkook fanfics

[ilguna]

Tacenda - Chapter Thirteen (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 3.8k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The wall finally breaks, and you’re sent flying forward. You toss the knife off of you as you throw yourself at Finnick, pulling him against you as tight as you possibly can without hurting him. His hands had long since been removed from his ears.

He meets you with the same amount of enthusiasm, but you don’t see it that way. You wanted to cry the entire time the hour was going on, watching as his facial expressions turned from okay, to bad, to worse. It has taken its toll on him, and it’s so painfully obvious.

Finnick buries himself into your neck, and you can feel the tears. You put your head against his, brushing his hair back as you try to rock him slightly, “It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m right here, Finn.”

His arms are tight around you, and you look over to see Johanna. She’s in pain too, watching as he holds onto you. You can feel him trembling slightly in your arms. All you want to do is scream at the gamemakers for purposely trapping him into something like that.

“It was you,” Finnick says, his voice is amazingly even, “And the rest of your family with Mags.”

You tilt your head slightly, “How did they…? Don’t jabberyjays copy?”

“They can.” Beetee says, “But they can always fabricate the sounds. Computer generated.”

You look over, “I understand how they got myself, but how would they get Mags, and my siblings? Mags hasn’t spoken in years and my siblings have never been on television, ever. I’ve made sure that they haven’t because I don’t want them to have the publicity.”

“Same goes for Prim.” Peeta says.

Beetee shrugs, “It’s not far off to think that they might have taken them speaking to other people and changed it to fit.”

Your arms tighten around Finnick a little bit at the idea that they would have recorded your families voices without permission.

“They won’t touch Prim.” Peeta tells Katniss.

You don’t move off of Finnick, because his arms are still tight around you. Instead, you carefully play with his hair, and sink down a little bit lower on his lap. When you’re completely sitting on his thighs, this is when you rub his back gently.

“Your fiance’s right, the whole country loves your sister.” Johanna says, you don’t move from where you are against Finnick, “If they tortured her–if they did anything to her, forget the districts. There would be riots in the damn Capitol.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Johanna starts yelling, “Hey, how does that sound, Snow? What if we–what if we set your backyard on fire? You know you can’t put everybody in here.”

You laugh a little bit, and Finnick does too.

“What?” she asks, quieter now, “He can’t hurt me. There’s no one left that I love.”

She says that she’s going to go ahead and get Katniss some water, walking off.

It’s a couple of minutes before Finnick lets you away from him. You help him to his feet, and even then he looks distant. He looks as distant as you felt when you had just woken up from the nap that you were taking. Regardless, he holds onto your hand tightly, and doesn’t let it go no matter what when you all start to move back to the beach.

He stabs his trident into the sand, but it eventually falls over. His hand also lets go of yours, and he heads straight into the water, sitting down.

You stand almost helplessly, clenching and unclenching your teeth. Seeing Finnick like this makes you want to cry, just like you had wanted to cry, seeing him inside of that wall. Alone, and watching him turn numb as time went on.

It was the longer hour of your goddamn life, watching him like that.

“Go sit with him.” Johanna tells you, nodding her head forward.

“I think he needs space.” you say, but you make no move to sit down next to anyone. Instead, you cross your arms and stare at Finnick’s indifferent body.

The Capitol will pay for this. They’ll pay for all of this as soon as this is over. There’s going to be hell, and you’ll be at the front lines with it. Because in no fucking life of yours, will this be acceptable.

“He’ll be okay.” Peeta says.

You ignore him, finally deciding to go and join Finnick in the water. You don’t touch him at all, wrapping your arms under your thighs as you lean forward. You let Finnick come to you, so you’re not overwhelming him with being on top of everything that he does.

He puts his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, “Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, watching as another wave comes over to you guys.

“For volunteering.” he says, and you look over in surprise, “For telling Elysia to call boys first so you would know to volunteer.”

“Finnick…”

He shakes his head, looking back out to the water, “What if you had been at home? And we all still came across those jabberjays, and I was hearing your scream? I wouldn’t have known that you were okay. Not even after the birds stopped, I would have no clue.”

“I love you.” you tell him, moving one of your hands to place on his knee, “And I would literally go to the ends of the earth for you, you know that, right?”

Finnick nods, “I would do the same for you. I would have volunteered just the same. I don’t think I ended up telling you that.”

“I know you would.” you lean your head against his shoulder.

You guys sit here, watching the waves in silence. You let your legs down, fully submerging them and settling for sitting criss-cross for a while.

It’s at least fifteen minutes or so before it’s interrupted by Johanna yelling for you guys. Finnick gets up first, and helps you to your feet. The both of you go over to stand over everyone.

“Where do the careers feel safest? The jungle?” Beetee asks once you get there.

“Jungles a nightmare.” Johanna says.

“Probably here on the beach.” Finnick answers.

“Then why are they not here?” Beetee asks.

“Because we are.” Johanna leans forward a bit when she talks, “We claimed it.”

Beetee looks around you guys, “And if we left, they would come?”

“Theoretically.” you shift on your feet a little bit, not liking how the sand feels under the boots very much.

“Or stay hidden in the treeline.” Finnick adds, Johanna nods.

“Which in just over four hours will be soaked with water from the ten o’clock wave.” he looks around you guys, “Then what happens at midnight?”

Katniss answers this time, “Lightning strikes that tree.”

“Here’s what I propose,” Beetee starts, “We leave the beach at dusk.” he points, “We head to the lightning tree, that should draw them back to the beach. Prior to midnight, we then run this wire–” he motions to it, and then goes back out to pointing, “–from the tree, to the water. Anyone in the water, or the damp sand, will be electrocuted.’

You watch as Beetee and Peeta both feel the sand in their fingers.

“How do we know that the wire’s not going to burn up?” Johanna asks.

“Because I invented it.” he says, “I assure you, it won’t burn up.”

He looks around at you guys, clearly looking for input.

You look at Finnick, raising your eyebrows somewhat, and then the both of you look to Johanna. She has the same look at you do, the one that says ‘it can’t hurt’. What else are you guys going to do?

You can see Katniss is staring at you three curiously, almost like she can’t believe that you all just did that. That not only can you share a look like that with Finnick and completely understand what he’s thinking, but you can do it with Johanna too. You all think alike here, Katniss and Peeta just haven’t reached that level of friendship just yet, you suppose.

“Well, it’s better than hunting them down.” Johanna says.

“What else are we gonna do?” you cross your arms, shifting in the sand again.

Katniss turns to look at Peeta and Beete, “Yeah, why not? If it fails, no harm done anyway.”

Peeta nods, “Alright, I say we try it.”

“So what can we do to help?” Finnick asks.

Beetee pauses for a moment before answering, “Keep me alive for the next six hours? That would be extremely helpful.”

Beetee lists off the rest of the plan, and since you guys are waiting until dusk, it seems like there’s a lot of time to pass. You all sort of split up, Peeta and Katniss sit farther away, Beetee sits on his coil of wire, talking to Johanna about the plan.

You decided to go for a swim in the water after you pulled off your boots. The second you did when you were deep enough was pull out the hair tie that’s holding your ponytail in. You got all your hair wet, and scrubbed your scalp even if there’s no soap. When you were satisfied, you tied all of it back as smoothly as possible, right back into a ponytail again.

Finnick spins around his trident. Above his head, around his back. You eventually got bored of swimming and sat next to him while he messed around. To fill the silence, you two talked about what it would be like to be back home right now, watching. If neither you or Finnick had been an option for the games.

“What would you name our baby?” Finnick asks, slowing down his spinning.

You look over to him, “Depends on the gender.”

He gives you a certain look for that answer, “Okay, a girl?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought. Have you?”

Finnick smiles a little bit, “Ever since you brought it up.”

You nod a little bit, “It would have to relate back to the ocean in some way, or at least sounds like it belongs to the water.”

“So, Finn?” he suggests.

You laugh, “That would be a nightmare to deal with.”

“Oceana?”

“Classic, real classic.” you stand up, tired of sitting in the water, “I’ll put that right up there with ‘coral’.”

Finnick stops spinning the trident, placing it down in the sand. You go over to him, wrapping your arms around his chest while you give him a quick kiss.

“What about Delmore?” you suggest.

“Delmore?” he asks, almost like he’s about to tell you that your suggestion is ridiculous.

“It means ‘of the sea’.” you tell him, moving away.

Finnick nods, thinking about it.

“Beetee says it’s time we start heading to the tree.” Johanna says to you two.

“Sounds good to us,” you look at her, and then your eyes flicker to Katniss and Peeta, “Good luck with those two.”

She laughs, a small smirk coming on her face, “Alright, lovebirds!”

You all start heading back to the sand. You slip on your shoes in the water, making sure that no sand gets inside of them. Finnick goes back to spinning his trident in the meantime.

Peeta and Katniss get up soon enough, and you all start heading across the arena, walking through the beach, rather than the cornucopia. Along the way, Beetee will occasionally ramble on about his plan, but it’s mostly quiet.

The jungle is when the real problem starts, since you’re climbing over rocks, going nothing but uphill. Finnick leads the way on this one, and you follow just behind him. It seems like none of you realize how late it is, until the anthem begins, showing off the fallen.

You stumble to catch your footing when you turn to see, and Finnick saves you before you end up on your ass.

The first two are Cashmere and Gloss, respectively. Wiress follows, and then it’s the girl from District Five, the girl morphling from six that had saved Peeta apparently, Blight, the guy from ten, and then Chaff.

The anthem ends there, and you all turn and go back to making it up the hill in silence.

When you finally get to the tree, you all stop to stare at it, with Beetee up front.

“Minimal charring, impressive conductor. Let’s get started.” he goes towards the tree, and you guys loosely follow.

He starts to wrap the wire around the tree. In the meantime, you all just kind of stand around and wait. Every now and then, you’ll find a place to pace, not really wanting to be huddled up next to everybody. However, paranoia creeps back onto you, and you’ll head back over to Finnick.

It’s a while before Beetee’s even cracked a dent on the damn coil, “Typically, a lightning strike contains five billion volts of energy.”

You spin the knife in your hand, trying to keep your mind entertained. You don’t really want to be the only one here suffering of boredom or sleep deprivation. Considering that none of them have slept in a good while, either.

“We don’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits.”

You all begin to move away from the giant tree, Beetee pulling it in the direction you guys came. Then, he looks to you, Johanna and Katniss.

“You girls go together now, take this.” Beetee hands off the wire to Katniss, “Unspool it carefully, make sure the entire coil is in the water, you understand? Then head to the tree at the two o’clock center, we’ll meet you there.”

Katniss looks completely confused, looking between you and Johanna. You stop spinning the knife for a moment, waiting for her to protest what’s going on.

It comes from Peeta first, “I’m going to go with them as a guard.”

“No, you’re staying here to protect me.” Beetee then adds, “And the tree.”

“It’s an even split.” you tell Peeta, “Johanna and I have it covered.”

“No, I need to go with her.” he shakes his head.

“There are two careers out there, I need two guards.” Beetee argues.

“Finnick and (Y/n) can protect you just fine.”

Katniss now butts in, “Yeah, why can’t Finnick and (Y/n) protect you, and Peeta, Johanna and I take the coil?”

“You all agreed to keep me alive until midnight, correct?” Beetee moves in closer.

“It’s his plan, we all agreed to it,” Johanna says.

Finnick is next, “Is there a problem, here?”

“Excellent question.” Beetee tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

It’s a moment, before Katniss answers, “No, there’s no problem.”

As Katniss goes to say goodbye, you look to Finnick, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t get yourself hurt.” he says.

“No promises.” you smile, and then head towards Johanna, ready to go.

“Alright, let’s go.” Johanna tells her.

You follow Johanna down the path, still playing with your knife. Just as you predicted on your first day here, the jungle is an absolute nightmare during the night. It’s dark, it’s hard to see, which means that you won’t know if something dangerous is around you.

You barely have the moon to thank for the stuff you can see.

Every now and then, you’ll take Katniss’ bow for her so she can step down a particularly steep spot, since she’s the one pulling the wire. You hand the bow back to her.

“Come on.” Johanna says, stepping onto a rock that overlooks the beach, “I want to put as much distance between me and this beach as possible. Frying is not how I want to go.”

“Not a fan of being scrambled?” you tease.

You and her stop when you don’t hear Katniss moving anymore. This is when you can see that the wire is pulled tight, obviously stuck on something.

“There’s something…” Katniss mutters quietly, tucking on the wire.

The wire tugs back, and it snaps. You move out of the way for Johanna, keeping an eye on the careers. Brutus is the first to pop up.

Johanna hits Katniss over the head with the wire. Katniss falls on her back, clearly out of it now. Johanna moves in with the knife, cutting open Katniss’ arm as planned to get the tracker out. Katniss screams in pain, and normally that wouldn’t be very helpful, but in this case it is.

It’s making it look like Johanna just hurt Katniss, which will throw Brutus and Enobaria off of her. They won’t think to go and kill off Katniss, especially if she’s supposed to be ‘suffering’ at the moment. They’ll expect her to die off in a couple of minutes.

Johanna lightly shushes Katniss, and places her bloody hands against Katniss’ neck, “Stay down.”

Johanna gives you a look, and you extend the sword, staring straight at Enobaria and Brutus. Johanna throws her spare axe, hitting the rocks next to them, and then takes off. You watch and make sure that they don’t come towards you, and instead they chase after Johanna.

Once you’re sure they’re gone, you collapse the sword again. Katniss stares at you with wide eyes, clearly not knowing what to take of the situation. You press your fingers to your lips to keep her quiet as you listen for any footsteps.

You then take off to go up the hill but not where the rocks are. It’s hard for a moment, but you stab and pull your way up the dirt with the knife.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick yells.

“Here!” you yell back, and he comes out of the trees to see you.

He helps you up the rest of the way.

“Enobaria and Brutus are after Johanna.”

He leads the way as you two look around for Johanna. However, you guys come upon nothing. The sound of a cannon worries you slightly, as you know that’s signaling someone’s demise.

At the sound of Katniss screaming, you and Finnick begin to head towards where it’s coming from. Finnick is much faster than you are with running, but you manage to just barely keep on his heels.

You nearly slam into his body when he stops so suddenly, “Katniss, where are you?”

You find her in the bushes with an arrow pointed at Finnick. You move in front of him. He realizes where she stands after that.

“Katniss,” he starts, holding out his arms like it’s a surrender, “Remember who the real enemy is.”

Your eyes are locked on her arrow, and you’re instantly relieved when she begins to lower the bow. The midnight storm brews above you, causing her to look at it suddenly. You relax, moving out of the way of Finnick.

Katniss turns to look behind her, staring straight at Beetee. He’s just laying in the dirt, you take a step forward.

What happened?

The lightning overhead begins to get a little louder, “Katniss, get away from the tree.” you tell her.

She wraps the wire around the head of the arrow, and Finnick takes off to grab her, “Katniss, get away from that tree–!”

Just as the lightning comes down, Katniss sends the arrow flying up towards the ceiling of the arena. When the lightning hits the tree, she’s sent flying away from it, the same time you and Finnick are.

The air is static. The type that makes your hair stick up, The electricity is lingering in the air around the tree.

The arrow hits the dome, sending the facade of a blue sky to black, as it slowly starts to spread throughout the rest of the arena with a fire-like border in front of it.

Your ears are ringing from the sound of the blast. You’re just barely able to move yourself around, not completely paralyzed by the electricity that had flown at you. You watch as the ceiling begins to fall apart, and the greenery around you turns to flame.

The ground shakes with each part that hits the arena, almost like an earthquake.

It’s a minute before the hovercraft appears, lowering a bit into the arena. It sends it’s claw down, heading straight for Katniss. You watch as it scoops her up and brings her in, and then it’s sent down again.

You’re curious on who it’s going to next, you, Finnick or Beetee. But then you realize it’s Finnick, and you can kill two birds with one stone by joining him.

You drag yourself over to him, trying your best to crawl but it’s not working just yet. Your muscles seem to have turned to jelly from the electricity, they’re absolutely useless.

You throw yourself on Finnick. He looks awake, and he tells you that he isn’t able to move. You position yourself on his chest the best you can, telling him that it’s okay.

The claw picks the both of you up, bringing you to the hovercraft. You place your head on Finnick’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut because you don’t want to look down. You don’t want to see how far you are into the air.

It’s quickly over though, you’re greeted with Haymitch, who helps pull you, and then Finnick off of the claw. You tell him that Beetee is down there too, but you don’t know where Johanna and Peeta are. Or if they’re even alive, because of the cannon.

“Use that knife and get out the trackers.” he tells you, motioning to your belt.

You look down, confused on what he’s on about. Staring right back at you is the knife that was sponsored to you. You hadn’t even realized that you had put it there.

You focus on getting Finnick’s out first. You roll up his sleeve and place your knee on his upper arm to keep him from moving. Then, with your left hand, you hold down his wrist.

You quickly dig the tracker out, which causes a commotion with Finnick, and then hand it over to Plutarch so it can be stomped on. You do the same to yourself, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before you stab, and twist. You don’t stop on that arm though, you go ahead and do it on the other one, too.

Both trackers are out, and you push it towards Plutarch, watching as he steps on them. Haymitch then pulls Beetee in, and they call it a wrap. Peeta wasn’t the goal of this, it was always Katniss.

Finnick is able to feel his legs again soon after, and you all move to the back. Where Finnick changes into a robe, and you do too. The both of you stand around a table with Haymitch and Plutarch.

“So, where are we heading?” you ask, looking between them.

Plutarch answers, “District Thirteen.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair tacenda #tacenda

[papergardener]

Futurama Fanfic: Paths

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Family Characters: Turanga Leela, Philip J Fry, Leela’s Parents Summary: In which Leela has a vision of what if everything went wrong when she first meets her parents. Based on the episode 'Leela's Homeworld.'

“Hey, Leela?” She turned to see Fry had followed her. It was much quieter once the door shuttered behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Uh huh,” Fry said, nodding. “Cause of earlier? That dumb alien thing?”

Leela shrugged, and then looked more closely at Fry, and realized this was an odd hour for him to be watching underground robot fighting, even with Bender’s bad influence. There were shadows under his eyes. “Want to walk with me?”

Paths (Ao3 Link)

She still remembered the sharp recoil of the gun as it fired, could still smell the staticky ozone, and absently flexed her hand against the ship’s wheel.

It had felt so real.

How she had murdered her parents...

Apparently they had seen visions or dreams or something, all because of some weird alien drug, because of course it was some weird alien drug. When Bender had swindled some sweet-tasting gummies, they hadn’t realized it had been a hallucinogen until Fry was practically in a coma. Nor did they realize that Bender had stolen it from a powerful space cartel who had then captured their ship. They had escaped all that with only minor cuts and some slashed wiring that spat out sparks from time to time, but they’d deal with it later.

That didn’t concern Leela as much as what she’d seen. 

The alien—in between yelling at them and threatening them with a flesh-eating slime (trademark pending)—had said something about the drug’s effects, how it took a moment from their past and… something or other. Her translation wasn’t the best, but she got the jist of it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t real, and that’s what mattered. Leela didn’t need to know all the details, she just needed to know how to fly the ship.

Which she was doing.

Well enough.

“I think we’ve still got an asteroid lodged under the wing-thingie,” Fry said, his face pressed against the glass on the far side.

Leela jerked the wheel sharply right, throwing the ship sideways, rocking it back and forth before she felt something shift, the wheel shuddering under her hands. She leveled out again to the sound of creaking and loud groans from everyone not belted in—everyone being Fry and Bender, which was plenty enough.

“Better?”

“Uhh…” Fry drunkenly stumbled over and smushed his face against the glass again. “Yep. All clear!”

“Good.” Leela didn’t look over as Fry slumped into the copilot’s seat beside her. “I just want to get back and pretend this never happened.” She paused. “Except on the incident report.”

“Yeah, I feel ya,” Fry said, pinching his eyes in a way that couldn’t be good for his optical nerves. “Man, I’ve got such a headache from that stupid thing. That was worse than the time I ate a tray of pot brownies in high school.”

Leela gave him a quick glance over. Fry certainly looked tired, but overall fine. Except for some scratches, that is, but he deserved at least half of them.

It wasn’t surprising he had been affected more: Fry had been under the drug’s influence for almost an hour, while she had—thankfully—only seemed to last a few minutes before fighting it off. Maybe it was her own horror that snapped her out of it, when she realized she had murdered her parents in cold blood.

“So what did you meatbags see?” Bender said, stomping over and throwing himself into a chair, not pausing as he pulled out a beer bottle from his chest cavity.

Fry pressed harder between his eyes before letting go, letting his hand drop off the edge of the seat. “Ya know… stuff,” he said, frowning at the dark expanse before them, darkness interwoven with a billion stars and planets. “Just a bunch of dumb, boring stuff.”

“Same,” Leela said. Her eye itched as if she’d been crying, which she hadn’t been. It had been an illusion, that was all.

Except it had  felt  real, and that was the terrifying part. A tucked-away part of her was desperate to get back and check that her mom and dad were fine. But she didn’t do more than push the old ship a little harder than usual, keeping on a steady course for home.

Even so, it was several hours before they approached the familiar blue marble, with the sun at their backs and late at night—at least according to the standardized earth clock on the ship. Leela wasn’t alone as they rounded the curvature of the earth; Fry was with her, and together they watched the sun set in a blaze of orange light casting long, long shadows over the clouds.

Soon the ship settled into it’s docking port with the usual hiss and groan, before falling quiet once more, all except for the hum of the engines and soft ticking of the navigational instruments. They didn’t talk much, and it was quiet still as they plodded out the gangway with yawns and long overhead stretches, already well past midnight. Maybe in the morning she would go check on them—she was overdue for a visit, anyway.

They were fine. Of course they were.

Her fingers twitched as she remembered the warmth of the gun in her hand.

She didn’t bother going to her own apartment, but settled into one of the spare rooms of Planet Express for just such a purpose, with little more than a bed and a hamper in the corner for anything radioactive. For hours, perhaps, she lay sprawled on top of the grubby sheets and couldn’t slpee. She stared at the dark part of the ceiling, or the bar of light from the street, or the gray pulsing inside of her eyelid. Sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind wouldn’t let up that damn vision, like an awful commercial jingle that wouldn’t shut up. It so easily could have happened, that was the worst part. The difference was only a fraction of time. If she had fired five second earlier, a couple seconds earlier… if Fry hadn’t crashed through the ceiling and distracted her…

She could still picture it, standing in that dark, foul room, both hands holding her gun steady as it clicked, clicked, clicked, charging. Her parents, hooded and bowed, standing before her, waiting for their execution at the hands of their own daughter.

I’ll kill you!

She had meant it.

That… would be best.

They had meant that, too.

Again, the gun fired. The bodies crumbled with hardly a sound, just a heavy fall against the hard floor.

This time, there was blood.

Leela jerked up, gasping and staring about the room. With a shaking hand she brushed her cheek, slightly damp. She held it to the little light coming in from the window, and it wasn’t blood.

For some moments she pressed her head tight between her hands, shutting her eye and forcing herself to breathe. But it couldn’t get rid of the afterimage burned into the back of her eyelid. She could still feel the blood as it hit her face, warm and coppery against her lips.

“Dammit,” she muttered, swinging her feet off the bed and throwing on her boots.

Sleep wasn’t happening that night.

By force of habit she slipped on the metal cuff as she headed out, and then paused. She snapped it open again, exposing her forearm, and watched the little metal bracelet shift, the same one she had worn since she was a baby, identical to her mother’s. She snapped the cuff closed again and rubbed her face, hard.

Maybe she should go check on them. Just a casual, totally normal visit at… she squinted at the bedside clock. 1:42 in the morning. Hm. Or maybe she should be rational and wait until morning. She could even bring coffee and donuts. They’d like that.

Still, she wasn’t going to sleep that night. With every intention of slipping out unnoticed, she walked into the rec room of Planet Express to see Fry and Bender shouting at the TV, which seemed to be shouting right back.

“And Slammerbot slams right onto The Underslammer, what a move! What’s this? The Underslammer saw it coming?! And he’s back on his feet—“

“You two are up late,” Leela said, making Fry shriek in surprise.

“Only for your dumb human biology,” Bender said, tossing an empty beer bottle on the floor and missing the trash by a body’s length. Leela watched it roll and tap against the table.

“I thought you’d be back at your apartment by now,” Leela said, leaning against the wall, crossing her arms and trying not to yawn.

“Eh, too far,” Fry said, tilting his head back all the way to better see her. “Surprised you’re here.” Then he looked around the little room, the bright lights the same whether day or night. “Man, what time is it?”

“Late,” Leela said simply, before her voice was drowned out by the TV crowds screaming, and Bender screaming as he jumped to his feet, swearing like he’d taken up a job as a personal manager with the most insulting, unhelpful encouragement imaginable. Fry had also jumped to his feet on impulse, but was too confused to do more than give a half-hearted yell and squint at the screen.

Leela looked between the television and the screaming idiots, and pursed her lips. A distraction might be nice, but this wasn’t it. Leaving them to it, she headed out towards the side-door, the hall light slowly flickering on around her as she made her way. Almost immediately the early thoughts and images resurfaced, leaving her cold and jittery. Maybe underground robot wrestling would be better than being alone.

“Hey, Leela?” She turned to see Fry had followed her. It was much quieter once the door shuttered behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Uh huh,” Fry said, nodding. “Cause of earlier? That dumb alien thing?”

Leela shrugged, and then looked more closely at Fry, and realized this was an odd hour for him to be watching underground robot fighting, even with Bender’s bad influence. There were shadows under his eyes. “Want to walk with me?”

The night was unremarkably nice, the streets deserted and most of the shop lights dimmed or off. Leela shoved her hands in her pockets against the chill, glad to have at least remembered her jacket. Fry kicked at bits of trash, and pointed out a scurrying rat on the opposite street. It was hard to see, but it seemed to have an extra eye and faintly glowed. Likely from the sewers

Like her parents.

Leela shrunk into her jacket collar and shoved her hands deeper, balling them into fists.

“I think I’m going to go see my parents,” she said suddenly.

“Yeah?” Fry said, and then looked up at the dark sky. “What, like now?”

“Maybe.”

Fry made a little sound like a shrug and then fell quiet, oddly so.

The late hours of night affected people differently, and it didn’t always fall to moderation. Some nights, Leela would stay up with the others, drinking and talking and laughing over the dumbest, un-funniest shit. Once they had played truth or dare like teenagers, knocking back shots and smashing beer cans, talking about sexual mishaps and drug-induced disasters. Those nights were good, and they inevitably happened in those late, late hours when they were drunk on exhaustion as much as booze.

Other nights? They might fall like this: quiet and dark, when one could speak of things they couldn’t say in daylight. A time for murmured secrets and soft-shelled vulnerability.

“I saw my parents earlier, actually,” Fry said, frowning and kicking a soda can. It clattered a few feet ahead, and he kicked it again. “Dumb alien drugs.”

Whichever way the night fell, it seemed as arbitrary as the toss of a coin.

“I don’t get exactly what happened to us, but I know what I... it was…” He made a tangled noise in his throat and shrugged, looking and sounding younger than usual. That alone shouldn’t have been so strange, since he was often childish and immature, but this was different. “I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“I was back home,” he said, his face pinching tight. Home. To him, it meant the year 2000, in the city of Old New York before it became Old. There was something melancholy about him calling that place home. “Everything was the same but instead of staying in the lab when I realized the pizza order was a prank, I left. I went home.” He looked up, seeing the world of his future, and perhaps seeing well beyond it. “Like none of this would ever happen.”

“Oh.”

Leela considered that, following his gaze upwards, unseeing.

A flip of the coin, was that it? A glimpse down a path not taken?

“Yeah. I showed up at my house and they were all celebrating without me. Like they didn’t notice I was gone.” He pulled his chin lower to his chest, frowning. “It was like they’d already forgotten me. I guess... why wouldn’t they. I was just the screw up.”

Leela stared at him as they walked, her own chest feeling tight and strange.

Fry continued in a lower voice, talking as if it might be his only chance to say these words. Almost desperate. “You know, after I got here, I’d sometimes wonder how long it took anyone to notice that I was gone. If they ever did notice. Or, like, if they ever cared.”

“Fry…”

He gave a shaky grin at the sound of her voice, his look painfully, falsely optimistic. “Yeah, that’s dumb. I bet they missed me. I mean, I was their son. Yancy was my brother. They probably did. Eventually. But just… that dumb alien drug made me realize… I think I was alone even before I lost everyone. Now they’re gone, and they’re all dead and I’m not and it’s…” He trailed off, brows pinched. There didn’t seem to be a word for whatever he was feeling.

Leela reached over and hooked her arm around Fry’s shoulders, pulling him close and not losing step.

Fry gave a nervous laugh and tried to pull away, several times almost saying something but the words stuttered and started and lead nowhere. Then he stopped trying, his shoulders tightened and then fell and he moved closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and grabbing a fistful of her jacket. He bowed his head, and she kept them steady, their footsteps keeping time when nothing else seemed to.

“Your family missed you,” Leela said. “You know they did.”

“Yeah.” He leaned in closer, his fist pulling harder. His voice was almost steady. “Yeah. I know.”

Fry had always been childish, it was one of the most annoying, frustrating parts about him. This was childish too, but Leela didn’t mind it. It was a different kind than his usual idiocy. Instead, this was the thoughts and fears of a child that lingered on and on, always in the back on one’s mind, the kind that would seem to vanish with maturity and then snap up and make one feel young and stupid and desperate to be loved.

Leela had a bit of that child in her, too.

Linked tight, they walked on through the half-lit world, a wash of gray metal and concrete in patches of light and shadow. In theory, time moved forward, and the stars continued to move overhead, but it felt as much an illusion as any other, like they were the only ones alive and awake on the entire earth.

A taxi zoomed by ahead of them, breaking that thought and leaving an afterglow of headlights, but then it was gone and the silence and stillness returned. Leela thought she wouldn’t mind if time did stop, just for a little while.

They came to the edge of a park, ignoring the hooker bots and avoiding the designated drug spot, lit in ugly, flickering neon like an enticing bug zapper. There was a quiet edge along the grass with cold metal benches that they leaned against, slick from the early morning dew and a thin mist that swept past in tendrils. Once, Leela swiped her palm against her forehead, brushing back her damp bangs and imagined smearing blood. When she pulled away her hand was clean, if sweaty, and she rubbed it against the corner of her jacket.

It was an ugly reminder of her own nightmares, and a reminder that Fry had been part of them. It was his reaction that had helped break what power the drug had on her. The sight of his horrified face when he saw what she had done, how he had staggered and stuttered, knowing he was too late.

Don’t do it, Leela! You can’t… you … oh my god… Leela, what did you do?

“I never did thank you for before,” Leela said, making Fry perk up and make a little noise like a confused dog. “For what you did for me back when you stopped me from... when I almost killed my parents.”

“Oh.” He went quiet for a moment, pondering that. “Is that what you dreamed about? That dumb drug thing?”

She shrugged, rolling her ankle on the ground and not looking up. “Back then, if it hadn’t been for you…”

It damn well terrified her, how easily it could have all gone wrong.

“I don’t think you would have fired, if it helps any,” Fry said, with more confidence in her than she had herself.

It had felt so easy to pull the trigger, so Leela wasn’t too sure about that, but it was comforting regardless. Maybe he had a point. They had been unarmed. Even with how angry she was, would she really have murdered two people in cold blood?

“Maybe,” she muttered. She felt slightly drunk. Or perhaps it was merely exhaustion. She wished she was drunk, it’d at least give her an excuse.

“It’s still weird, you know? Having them,” she said, waving a hand towards nothing. “Having real, actual parents. After all my life thinking I was an orphan, or an alien, and now they’re just there.” She scraped her foot against the concrete, a flash of anger she couldn’t direct. “They’ve always  been there , and it’s so—“

She stopped, overwhelmed and stupidly emotional and unsure. Night did that, sometimes. It made things go all stupid and reflective.

Before she could give voice to those thoughts, Fry knocked his shoulder into hers, almost shoving her off the slippery benchback. “Hey.” He grinned. “Whatever happened, I’m glad you found your parents.”

She closed her eye and focused on that. It sounded so nice. She had found them, and things had turned out well, hadn’t they? Amazing, actually. Her parents were alive and they loved her, and wanted her. She had found her parents.

“Yeah,” she said, her emotions tangling. “Me too.”

I’m sorry you lost yours, she thought, taking his hand. It was warm and stiff from being held in a fist, and gooey with sweat.

They were sweaty, tired, lonely messes, the both of them, on opposite ends of a shitty pendulum.

For a time after they were quiet, staring up at the dark sky, a deep black not yet tinged with the gray of pre-dawn. Then, together, they walked back to the Planet Express, stopping in the middle of the empty road at the maintenance hole just outside it, her usual entrance. Fry opened it, pulling it back before reaching out a hand with a smile. With gentlemanly grace he handed her down into the sewers.

Just before she was almost fully under, Leela paused, her hand stilling on the cold metal rung. Looking up, Fry’s orange hair was outlined by the glow of neon lights. He had saved her, and that time it had gone right. Tomorrow he’d almost certainly be back to his usual idiot self, but this had been a good night. She’d remember it.

“Thanks, Fry.”

“Good night, Leela.”

He waited, watching her until she was a good way down before closing the heavy circular lid above her. It took a moment for her eyes to settle, but it was actually easier to see underground, the toxic lake casting everything in a green, radioactive glow that made descending the metal ladder easier, and then the woven rope ladder after that.

Even though the world wasn’t tied to the rising and falling of the sun, it still had that chilled, calm air of night. Leela knocked against the rotting door jamb, and listened as the muffled voices came closer before the door creaked open a moment.

“Leela!” her mother cried, opening it wide, her father right over her shoulder. “It’s so late. What are you doing here?”

“Are you in trouble?” her father asked worriedly, stepping out and looking up and down the dark, deserted pathway.

“No, I’m fine.” Leela rubbed her arm. This was starting to seem foolish. “I, uh, just… wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Her mom blinked at her. “That’s… sweet of you. But you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Maybe all our clocks are just broken,” her dad said, squinting across the room. “I thought it was after 3am.”

“It is,” Leela said, rocking back on her heels a bit. The idea had been to come and talk with them, but that was seeming too much at the moment. Exhaustion was catching up quick, it was late, and her thoughts and feelings were still jumbled.

“Can I stay here for the night?”

Her parents shared a look, speaking with their eyebrows more than anything. Was it worry? Embarrassment?

“Here? Are you sure? You’d be more comfortable in your own place,” her mom said, gesturing a tentacle vaguely upwards, to the surface. Where Leela didn’t belong and yet she did now, because of her parents’ sacrifice.

“And it’d be cleaner,” her dad added.

“I don’t care,” she said in a stronger voice. “I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to.”

Luckily she didn’t have to sleep on the floor. Her parents easily conceded—it seemed there was nothing they would say no to—and set about finding extra sheets and pillows, leading her to a couch against the wall. It was new, they said, torn somewhere between pride and shame.

It was new to them, anyway. The faux leather was shiny from overuse in parts, claw marks showed the off-white insides, and it reeked of dog, but it was better than the floor.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right,” her mom asked, fussing over her and adjusting the threadbare pillow under her head, shoved up against the armrest and also reeking of dog. Leela was only half sure they didn’t actually have a dog.

“I’m fine. This is… nice.” Leela kept the old blanket tucked under her arm, gripping it in both hands, feeling slightly delirious. It was so far from nice, and a far cry from her own clean, comfortable bedroom, but the anxiety curdling in her gut had turned down to a manageable simmer. She pressed her socked foot against the far armrest, faintly testing, and then let it hang over the too-short couch and breathed in the smell of wet dog and sewage. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“If you need anything, we’ll be just in the next room. You come get us for anything,” her dad said, touching her shoulder. There was a moment’s hesitation as her mom and dad looked at each other before slowly stepping away. This was new to all of them.

“Well… good night,” her mom said, lingering as they both moved towards their own bedroom, keeping her eyes on Leela before leaving with another shared glance.

That pulled at something, and it cried out in Leela’s chest, and surged up her throat and escaped past her lips.

“Wait!” she said, sitting up.

Her parents looked back, but she couldn’t even pull forth the words. She didn’t even know what she wanted to say, or what she wanted, except that she wanted  them. Her parents who gave her up for a better life, who would sacrifice everything—their own lives—for her happiness. She loved them, and yet the words stuck.

It was too much to think about, or talk about, but her parents understood anyway. Smiling, they returned.

“Good night, Leela,” her mom whispered, kissing her cheek.

“We love you,” her dad said, also bending and kissing her as well.

“I love you, too,” she said softly, like a breath held too long.

Her dad stroked her hair, and it felt oddly familiar though she couldn’t recall anyone ever doing it to her. It was nice. “You’d best get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll talk more in the morning if you like.”

“You can tell me what your favorite breakfast is,” her mom said in a throaty voice, almost in tears and covering her face with one tentacle.

Leela watched them go, the door closed but not shut, and she took comfort at that.

It was quiet and dark, all except for a glow-in-the-dark nose her mother had placed on the little table in the corner, like a nightlight.

#Futurama #Leela #Turanga Leela #Leela's Homeworld #fanfiction #my writing #I wrote this instead of working on my other WIPs #shocked I actually finished it #this was such a powerful episode #I love her relationship with her parents and how much they love her #Fry is here too #more than I expected #it was a fun change of pace from my other stuff #writing for a dead fandom #nice

[kenzieam]

Destroyed - Chapter Three - Raen’s Story (Chris X Raen)

Rating: M - ***TRIGGER WARNINGS***

Warnings: Violence, language, drama, angst, mentions of abuse and rape

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@iammarylastar​​​​​ @captstefanbrandt​​​​​ @jewels2876​​​​​ @moonbeambucky​​​​​​ @badassbaker​​​​​ @everythingisoverrated​​​​​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​ @oliviastan17​​​​ @igothroughphasesalot​​ @sashli​

I KNOW I’M MISSING TAGS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN

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PLEASE READ RAEN’S STORY WITH CAUTION.

IF YOU’VE READ MY OTHER STORIES, YOU KNOW I CAN GO DARK AF, AND THIS IS NO EXCEPTION. HOPEFULLY THIS EXPLAINS WHY MY OFC HAS SUCH A HARD TIME TRUSTING ANYONE.

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LAST CHANCE......

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Raen’s Story

The phone call woke her, startled her out of an uneasy sleep. Sharp pain flooded in with her senses and she winced as she reached for the phone, pulling it to her ear with a muffled groan.

“Miss Casteel?”

Close enough. Although she and Marshall weren’t married, he still insisted she take his last name and stop referring to herself as a Casteel.

“Yes, this is.”

“My name is Judson Plante. Do you know of a woman named Agatha Desmond Casteel?”

“She’s my grandmother.” Raen replied, sitting up with a wince. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m her attorney. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a month. Your grandmother’s passed, and she left you everything.”

Raen nearly dropped the phone, fingers shaking. “She’s died?”

“Yes, dear. I’m sorry. I take it you weren’t close?”

No, not at the end. Marshall had taken and moved her far away from any family, settling in a backwater town in a backwater state, where the majority of the housewives that perused the shelves of the local Piggly Wiggly all wore large, shielding sunglasses and had the tendency to ‘fall down the stairs’. “I stayed every summer there when I was a child.”

“Ah, yes. She spoke of that.”

“Did she…. Was it bad?”

“No, Miss Casteel, she passed in her sleep; the ladies she lunched with found her the next day. They say she looked very peaceful.”

Raen sagged in relief, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t… what do I do?”

“I have everything laid out here in my office. I just need you to verify your identity and sign some paperwork. I can send it out to you, to the nearest attorney, if you wish. You’ve moved quite a distance away, I see.”

A sharp pain rocketed through Raen’s lower belly and she bit back a moan, curling in on herself. Marshall, like most of the men in this small town, liked to drink, and sometimes he got mean; a fact that the majority of the women seemed to share and accept as their miserable lot in life, flicking sympathetic glances at each other as they passed in the store or at church, their large sunglasses not always completely hiding the bruises. But, every couple of months, something turned over in Marshall’s brain and he went from mean to downright evil, something Raen could never predict.

Three nights ago, he’d come home stinking of another woman’s perfume and ripped Raen out of their bed, then stomped out the baby he’d raped into her the last time he’d come home like this. She’d been to bed ever since, the bleeding slowing while the pain remained and, as the newest pang tore through her, so did the realization that this would never end.

Despite his regret between the spells, despite his murmured kind words and promises that he’d ‘never do it again, angel. Believe me.’ Raen knew it would never stop, he would never change, the alcohol poisoning his mind and gradually eroding the part that stayed decent would eventually override any humanity he had left.

And he’d kill her, she’d bleed out in their bed, or on the floor; and Marshall would push her corpse aside and find another to lay beneath him, to believe his lines and fall under his spell. She should have known, three years ago when this all started, how it would end. Hadn’t she watched her own mother wither away under her stepfather’s tyranny?

“Miss Casteel?” The terseness in Plante’s voice said he’d been trying for some time now to get her attention.

“I said-“

“I’ll be there. Just give me a few days.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m driving out. You said grandma left me everything, that means the house too, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then I’m taking possession. Just give me time to get there.”

“I… alright. I will have everything ready for you.”

Raen thanked him, scrawling down the address of his law office. It was a few towns over from her grandma’s house but that was no hardship. Like Raen had said, she’d spent all her summers out there as a child, she knew the area.

And it was absolutely time for a change.

Pulling her raw body from the bed, Raen packed quickly, what few possessions she had and wanted to take. Faint doubt clawed at the edges of her mind, was she really doing this? Leaving the man she’d lived with for three years; the man who, while rough with her occasionally, provided for her? Kept her safe from the dangers outside? Even as she thought that, she knew it was bullshit, lies Marshall told to keep her compliant, lies a small part of her accepted as truth and was trying to keep her here with now. There was danger out in the world sure, but he was the bigger threat.

Why had it taken so long for her to wake up?

Marshall and her grandma had never met, but Grandma had known what was coming; she’d been around the block too, so to speak. When she’d learned Raen had a new man and was planning on moving, she’d called her, asked if she knew what she was doing and although Raen hadn’t set foot in that kitchen for better than five years at that point, she could still picture the flowered curtains swaying in the breeze from the screen door as she listened to the old woman’s soft voice. Raen had tried to assuage her worry, reassure her that Marshall was different, that he’d take care of her, they were moving to another state because of a job opportunity, not to isolate her but Grandma had been right. And she’d left her favorite grandchild a safety net.

It was a sign, and it was time to go.

Her father’s old Land Cruiser sat on the far side of the dirt driveway. Raen had been careful to keep it covered, protected from the sun and Marshall had only let her keep it because it didn’t run. ‘Thieves can’t steal what they can’t get running, Raeny baby, mind your daddy.’ Raen smiled to herself remembered her dear father’s advice, the man that she should have grown up with, the man who her mother should have had in her life, if not for that accident at the factory, as she poured fresh gas in the tank and attached the proper wires, laughing despite herself when the Cruiser roared to life. Marshall wasn’t that smart; she’d gotten this past him, thanks daddy, and now she was leaving forever.

Despite the fact that Marshall would have no clue as to where she went, if he even remembered she had a grandmother he had no idea where she’d lived; for when he and Raen had met, four states separated them and then he moved them further still, Raen white-knuckled it through the next thirty hours, driving as far as she could before pulling over to sleep, then driving again.

Freshening up in a local motel, Raen met Plante and signed the paperwork. Part of the few possessions she’d taken had been a small locked box, one Marshall had never seen for he surely would have opened it and destroyed what lay inside. And inside had been Raen’s lifeline. Her papers, her ID, pictures, what she needed to fulfill Judson Plante’s and the Law’s requirements for her to take what was left to her.

She’d taken the keys, the folders and left the stately office. Arriving at her grandma’s, her, house, she’d cried at the sight. It was just as she remembered from her childhood, down to the flowered curtains, the vintage Kelvinator fridge in vibrant yellow, the old farmhouse sink. A bone-deep exhaustion, a years-in-the-making collapse hit her then and she’d slept for almost two days, wakened and hid inside for another week, until the fear that Marshall would find her faded.

Grandma had left her some money, and she’d hidden little bits away from Marshall’s left-around- the-house change, but she needed to find a job and, after a time, found The Bend. She’d done some bartending before, that’s how she’d met the prince named Marshall himself, and found it came back to her easily, and just a bit ago her boss asked if she wanted to try waitressing, start working the early lunch shift at The Bend instead of the late one.

Raen found she’d liked both, and would often work doubles, noon to midnight or later, and it had been fine, a quiet existence for the last few months until her Cruiser chose to act up, coughing like it was it’s last as she limped it into Griffin Mechanical. The man who’d approached her had not been old Mr. Griffin, the man she remembered from her childhood, but a young and handsome devil who’d haunted her dreams ever since.

Tall and muscular, his head shorn and a dark goatee on his chin, his fierce appearance was at complete odds with the gentleness Raen had seen immediately in his bottomless eyes, the kind but nervous smile he’d given her. His voice was one she could listen to forever, one that soothed her to the very depths of her soul and one she imagined was capable of heating her blood to an inferno if he ever leaned close enough to whisper in her ear what his eyes said he wanted to do to her.

Her heart had immediately been lost, tied to this man and she’d never been more scared.

Men were rough, men were brutes who used their fists as much as their words when they were angry. Loving a man meant pain and humiliation, it meant feeling the burgeoning life trying to live within you that was forced upon you but, in the end you’d come around to want, seep out between your legs as a pile of hot stones took residence in your belly.

Chris’ hands were large, stained with grime, capable of wielding heavy wrenches and, no doubt, painful blows. The bulging muscles in his biceps and forearms meant he was strong, his punches and strikes would hurt and what’s worse, the gentle light in his eyes would be all the more monstrous as his fists rained down pain.

His body, his smile, his very aura was bliss, strumming hers to life and it could never be. Raen would never make that mistake again, she would never let another have power over her.

She would never let another Marshall into her life.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky barnes #destroyer #destroyed #destroyer chris #chris x raen #destroyer chris angst #destroyer chris drama #sebastian stan #destroyer chris fanfic #destroyer chris fanfiction #bucky

[timeagainreviews]

Sifting through the Dregs

For series twelve of Doctor Who, I have opted to take a casual approach. I've avoided spoilers as much as possible. Although I caught the trailers, and the odd press photo, I've managed to stay away from things as simple as episode descriptions, writers, or even episode titles. I want to come into each story with as little expectation as possible. This is so that I might avoid hype, both of the negative and positive varieties. So when I read the words "Part One," after "Spyfall," it was genuinely a surprise. And when I read the words "Orphan 55 by Ed Hime," I was suddenly very hopeful.

If you remember from series eleven, I was a big fan of Ed Hime's episode "It Takes You Away." I praised its brazen absurdity, likening it to something Douglas Adams may have done. The episode is rather divisive in the fandom, as some might call it one of the worst episodes ever. Obviously, I disagree. Ed Hime stands out to me as exactly the kind of writer Doctor Who needs. Someone with a bit of a taste for the absurd, while still managing to capture human moments. Ironic then, that despite my best efforts to approach the episode without expectation, the hype I would most contest with would be my own. Does "Orphan 55," live up to my expectations? Let's get into it!

As I said, Ed Hime lends a sort of mad weirdness to Doctor Who that I feel a certain section of writers possess. Think your Lawrence Mileses, your James Gosses, or even the occasional Steven Moffat. These are writers, who for better or worse understand one thing about Doctor Who- it's weird. Strangely, one of the common most aspects ignored by Doctor Who writers is the absurdity. A blue police box wrapped around an impossible machine, piloted by an ancient trickster somehow becomes mundane. Doctor Who's weirdness is an integral element that has been around since its inception. That's why when the gang gets teleported by a contest cube Graham has assembled, and the first person we meet is a furry, I feel we're already onto a good start. Especially when they just finished cleaning up the biggest calamari ever from the TARDIS floor. (Anyone else think of the Nestine Consciousness?)

Characters like "Hyphen with a 3" or "Hyph3n," remind me of some of the '80s era's odder characters. I could easily see her and her tail living in "Paradise Towers," or perhaps riding a bus in "Delta and the Bannermen." But another reason I love her is that she's not just a furry, it's part of her identity. You don't get the idea that she's an outlier like real-life Trekkie, Barbara Adams, who famously wore her Star Trek uniform to jury duty and her place of work. Instead, you get the feeling that in the future, people respect identities. To use Star Trek again, I remember watching an episode of "Star Trek: Enterprise," where the character Trip has a crisis over whether or not a girl "was a man." When you compare this to the dialogue we're having about transgender rights in 2020, you're automatically reminded that Enterprise came out in 2001. By today's standards, furries are still seeking acceptance. Seeing Hyp3n in a partial fursuit may seem absurd now, but in its own way, it's futuristic. How very Doctor Who.

Things in this future, however, aren't all progressive acceptance of our fine furry friends, there seems to be trouble in paradise. As I said, the gang is greeted by Hyp3n, a sort of porter for a relaxation destination called "Tranquility Spa." The companions immediately take to the spirit of things, as they settle in for a bit of rest and relaxation. The Doctor, of course, starts snooping around. Meanwhile, a security team of two, Kane and Vorm are responding to "another security breach." Whatever it is requires machine guns, which seems like quite a lot. And if you're like me you'll spend the next half hour trying to figure out where you've seen Kane before. I'll help you out- it was Lydia from Breaking Bad. You're welcome. I just saved you a trip to IMDb.

The next scene introduces us to a concept that will run strong within this episode- Yaz as a gooseberry. We see a couple of pensioners, Benni and Vilma, enjoying their spa getaway. Just as Benni is about to ask Vilma to marry him, Yaz stands right between them. I mean, I know the pool is for everyone, but read the vibe, Yaz. Jeez. Meanwhile, Ryan is checking out the interior of Tranquility Spa. The bar looks like the kind of place art vampires go to get lemongrass enemas. It reminded me a lot of "The Leisure Hive," with a budget, or even a more modern twist on the Centre of Leisure from "Time and the Rani. So much of this episode reminded me of classic Doctor Who.

Ryan notices a vending machine, but as he's retrieving his food is infected by a hopper virus. The Doctor explains the virus is capable of jumping from computers to humans. After expelling it from his system, the Doctor bags it to take to whoever is in charge. While Ryan is sucking his thumb to reduce the hallucinogenic side effects of the virus, he sees a cutie in a similar situation, a young woman by the name of Belle. It's pretty obvious at this point that Belle is to be a sort of romantic interest for Ryan, and who can blame him? She lives up to her namesake!

Everyone is rounded up for a "tranquillity drill," to a safe location while Kane and Vorm run through the lobby with their guns in tow. As with most companions, travelling with the Doctor embeds a deeper curiosity. Much like the Doctor would, Ryan questions what type of drill requires guns. This question entices Belle to follow him as they investigate. I really liked this pairing of the two of them as their chemistry was natural, despite Ryan's repeated failures at chatting her up. It only added to their charm.

The Doctor confronts Hyp3n who seems just about as confused and nervous as many of the guests. Whatever she's hiding is only because she's been instructed to by her superiors. Considering the hopper virus and drill, the Doctor deduces that the spa is under attack, and demands to know what they're hiding. Who would want to harm a spa? The spa has been using an ionic membrane to keep out unwanted visitors, visitors which appear to have breached the membrane. Now under a full-on attack by a group of monstrous beings, guests become casualties. Not only is the base under attack, but the viruses have also handicapped the systems, disabling the emergency teleportation devices. With everyone trapped the Doctor has to work fast to stop the killing, as well as survive.

Graham finds a pair of green haired servicemen in the form of Nevi and his son Sylas. Their entire character design once again had me thinking of classic Doctor Who characters such as the Swampies from "The Power of Kroll," or the Karfelon androids from "Timelash." I liked wondering if they were a kind of species that has naturally green hair, or if they had father/son hair dying nights. In this brief interaction, you learn that Sylas is the better mechanic between the two of them, but that Nevi does a bad job of acknowledging this. Graham gathers them and others to evacuate while Ryan and Belle hideaway in a sauna of sorts. While there, they confide in each other that neither of them is nearly as impressive as they initially led on, and the truth strengthens their bond.

Sadly, as Graham is rounding people up, Benni gets separated after backtracking to pick up Vilma's hat. As life signs extinguish across a computer screen, highlighting the trail of carnage, the Doctor finds a way to push back the onslaught. By repairing the ionic membrane, the creatures, known as Dregs, are physically pushed out of the spa by a force field. The crisis averted, the survivors search for the bodies of their loved ones. Much to Graham's relief, Ryan and Belle have both narrowly avoided the claws and teeth of an angry Dreg. Benni, however, is nowhere to be found.

After discovering a hole, which looks like a tear in reality, our heroes discover that Tranquility Spa is actually an illusion. A dome separates the spa from a hostile planet far too polluted to inhabit. This abandoned, or "orphan," planet is designated "Orphan 55." This is the reason guests are teleported to the spa- to cover up its seedy location. However, it would appear that whatever the Dregs are, they seem to be apex predators, able to survive the hostile environment of Orphan 55. And they want the spa and its inhabitants gone.

The Doctor makes Kane drive them out into the wasteland to find Benni, as his oxygen tank would allow him to survive outside of the dome for some time. It was a thin chance, but it might be enough to save at least one person among the carnage. I was really hoping for some silly "Moonbase," style helmets, but instead, we got these minimalist blue breath right strips across the bridge of the nose that linked to small wrist canisters as supplied by Nevi and Sylas.

The trip out onto the surface reminded me a lot of the great Russell T Davies episode "Midnight." And much like Midnight, the confined space of a vehicle traversing harsh conditions offers plenty opportunity to explore the people within. Remember how I said Yaz is a gooseberry? She wastes no time getting right between Ryan and Belle. I honestly can't tell what's going on between Yaz and Ryan at the moment. Last season, there was a bit of a "Will they or won't they?" vibe between them. But series twelve seems less interested in coupling them off. First, we had the Master and Yaz getting weirdly touchy-feely, which surprisingly never comes up again. And now we've got Yaz teasing Ryan in front of Belle like a jealous school girl. We learn that along with sucking their thumbs, Ryan and Belle also share having a dead parent in common, so that's something.

The vehicle picks up a bit of barbed wiring leaving it, as the Doctor put it- completely knackered. Keeping with the Midnight vibe, the surface of the planet is too dangerous due to monsters and killer sunlight. Afraid for her own self-interest, Kane wants to abandon the search mission, but a pleading Vilma begs her to continue looking for Benni. After callously accepting Vilma's necklace as payment, Kane agrees to continue with the rescue mission.  The crew abandon their vehicle and run for the safety of an underground service tunnel, but Dregs attack from every direction causing them to return to the safety of the vehicle. But that safety won't last long.

It's then that they hear Benni calling for Vilma. He asks her to marry him and then asks them to shoot him as well. It's a morbid moment as you realise the only reason the Dregs have kept Benni alive is to taunt the survivors and prolong his suffering. I don't really understand what the point of having them run back into the vehicle actually was. They basically run back out a moment later with the new plan of Kane and Vorm covering with gunfire. I don't understand why it was so important that they leave one location just to return moments later.

As Kane and Vorm blast Dregs, the rest of the crew run to the safety of the service tunnel. In the scuffle, Vorm dies, but Kane catches up just in time to open the tunnel. The entrance to this tunnel had me thinking of the opening of "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers." I kept waiting for Rita Repulsa to pop out and say "Ah! After 10,000 years I'm free! It's time to conquer Earth!" They make it down into the tunnel where there is a short-range teleporter nearby. Vilma asks Kane if she saw what happened to Benni, and Kane coldly tells her not to worry, that she shot Benni as he requested. It's at this time that Belle steals Kane's gun. She reveals that Kane is her mother and that she's here for revenge for abandoning her and her father. Belle teleports back to the spa taking Ryan with her. Seeing as the teleporter only had enough juice for one go, the rest of the crew must go deeper into the tunnel to find their way back.

Back at the spa, Belle reveals a huge bomb she plans to use to blow up the spa. Poor Ryan, he just met this girl and already he's dealing with her baggage with her mum. I kid, but damn girl, take a guy to a movie first. It's lucky for the Doctor that this adventure isn't actually from the '80s. Had it been Ace in this position, she would have seen the bomb and said "Wicked!" while offering up Nitro 9 to add to the destruction. Instead, Ryan pleads with her not to blow up the spa, dooming everyone involved.

Meanwhile, the Doctor and crew discover a plaque written in Russian, cluing them in to the fact that not only is the planet abandoned, but it was also abandoned by humanity. Orphan 55 is in fact, Earth. This revelation hits Graham and Yaz hard, as they never imagined the fate of the world to be so ugly. Their grieving is cut short by the appearance of Dregs, who Vilma bravely sacrifices herself to, to save the others. The Doctor, at this time also appears to be running out of air. It appears that the ability to be the loudest talker isn't always helpful when oxygen preservation is to be considered.

The sole reason for her running out of oxygen serves only to discover the Dregs breathe out oxygen. She discovers this when she finds a Dreg conveniently hibernating within the tunnel. Why this is important is that it gives a bit of insight into the Dregs' motivation. Kane's big plan was to make a spa that slowly terraforms the planet, which would harm the Dregs. It also explains the trees seen on the surface of the planet. That or these trees are also apex predators able to adapt to anything. Using her Time Lord brain magic, the Doctor looks into the mind of the Dregs and affirms what she feared most- they evolved from humans.

Everyone has now made their way back to the spa. The Dregs are closing in and they need to fix the teleporter. We're treated to a series of people once again leaving and returning to the same location for the sake of upping the tension. Kane appears to sacrifice herself and Sylas gets in an argument with Nevi once more over being told he's not a mechanic causing him to run away. But both of them are ok, as they both return unscathed. Yaz and Ryan wheel Belle's bomb to try and take out a few of the baddies. It's kind of a clusterfuck if I am honest. Lots of characters get taken in and out of scenes merely to pad time and add to the tension. It's not egregious but could have been edited better.

Sylas appears just in time with a solution to use the hopper virus to convert fuel for the teleporter. I was happy they brought the virus back, even if they don’t make a whole lot of sense. Were the Dregs weaponising the hopper virus? Were the viruses remnants of human civilisation? Regardless, I’m glad they brought it back. Sadly, this entire end sequence acts as evidence that perhaps there are too many companions in the TARDIS at the moment. Graham's job is to stand over Nevi and Sylus saying things like "That's right lads!" Yaz and Ryan are basically running around doing busywork, while the Doctor and Belle are having a stand-off with a Dreg. The Doctor manages to equalise the air in the room so that it is mutually beneficial to keep her and Belle alive. What the Dreg breathes out, they breathe in, and vice versa. This stalemate allows them the ability to leave. With the teleports up and running, the Doctor and her crew are transported back aboard the TARDIS, but not before Belle steals a kiss from Ryan. Are she and her mother going to be okay? We're left to wonder.

The victory celebration is short-lived as the companions remember the fate of the earth. Now, I need to preface what I'm about to say with the following- I fully believe climate change is a thing. I say this because we need to talk about how Doctor Who handles the subject. I've seen a lot of people (see: morons) complain about when Doctor Who gets "too political." They seem to think anything they don't like is political. The Doctor being a woman is political to them. But as I said with episodes like "Rosa," and "Demons of the Punjab," it's not that Doctor Who shouldn't be political, it's that it's simply not very good at it.

I can appreciate that the message of climate change is a real and pressing matter, but the cautionary edutainment way in which they present the information was so cringe. It felt so unnatural and tacked on. In their desire to address the audience directly, they lose a level of reality that makes the dialogue seem fake. These scenes always feel badly acted to me, but it's the fault of the dialogue. There's no good way to break the fourth wall without also sacrificing the characters' voices. It's like one of those adverts where you have two people talking far too candidly about something like their period flow, or constipation. It's a way to disseminate information about a product or ideology, but don't mistake it for dialogue. Nobody talks like this.

All in all, this was your standard "base in peril," episode. While not as transcendent as "It Takes You Away," I believe Ed Hime has given us another solid episode of Doctor Who. It's hard for me to tell if Hime's ability to write action was wanting, or if it is simply the fault of the director, but it definitely suffers at points due to the janky pacing. Pacing has really been an odd sticking point for series 12, and I hope they work it out. Even still, I was hoping that after the two-parter of "Spyfall," we would get something a little more grounded. Having this odd little contained storyline with little homages to classic Who is actually more than I had hoped for. It also gave us a new character in Belle, whom I expect to see return eventually. And despite the heavy-handed and unnatural way in which they dealt with climate change, I understand that it's a family show. In keeping with classic Who, it aimed to be educational, and for that, I cannot fault it.

#doctor who #Thirteenth Doctor #Jodie Whittaker #Bradley Walsh #tosin cole #mandip gill #Graham O'Brien #Ryan Sinclair #yaz #yasmine khan #orphan 55 #ed hime #dregs #series 12 #TARDIS #BBC #Time and Time Again

[eamesandbellamyaremyheaven]

Heart of Novocaine Ch2|| Jax Teller x Sansa Stark (SoA/GoT)

Sons of Anarchy x Game of Thrones AU (show divergent)

Warnings: none for now, but there will be violence and smut in the future - with SAMCRO what do you expect? 😜 

Summary: After loosing her mother and elder brother in an accident, Sansa takes her younger siblings and moves in with Jon, who lives in Charming, to start anew, amidst from and the suffering and heartache from the past. But can she adapt to Jon’s dangerous lifestyle? And what if her “past” comes looking for her? And for how long will she be able to abstain herself from the alluring advances of Jax?

Chapter One ||

Chapter Two - Bird on the Wire

Sansa sat down on top of her bed covers, crossing her legs under herself, waiting for Margaery to accept the video call. She looked to her side, watching as Arya was sound asleep, with her back turned to her. In her younger years, she had always complained having to share her room with her sister, and now, both grown-ass women, had to share a bed. A fucking bed. Thank god it was a big, double bed, or Sansa would’ve rather slept on the floor. Arya was a lousy bed companion, and during the night would throw her legs on top of Sansa’s, or somehow she would manage to slap Sansa on her face and chest. And there was also the matter of the drunk snoring, something Sansa had experienced the last time they went camping, when they stole their parents a couple bottles of whiskey and played drinking games.

“Hellooo, earth to Sans!?” Margaery high pitched voice echoed through the phone, calling Sansa out of her daydreaming

“Sorry, I’m here” Sansa apologized, smiling fondly “I missed you so much, Margie! How are you?”

“Oh, you know, bored to the core, nothing fun happens here” Margaery pouted, before continuing “How about you, living with a biker gang... Anyone worth mentioning?” she asked, giggling her eyebrows suggestively

Him “No” Sansa tried to sound nonchalant, but she knew she had failed, as she felt her cheeks warming up, something that her best-friend had also noticed

“You sure?” she teased

“Yeah, I’m sure” Sansa said, rolling her eyes, but her grin was hard to miss. Those damned eyes...

“Sansa, dear, by the way you’re blushing, I bet those pajama trousers are wet as hell”

“Margaery!” Sansa yelped, bringing her spare hand up to cover her face, as her friend laughed happily. Margaery always pushed her just the right way, and she became a different person around her. More loose, confident, and daring, and Sansa loved the power that transpired from her, when she was with Margaery. She looked to her side, and Arya was deep in her heavy sleep “Okay, I’m gonna tell you something, but you cannot, I repeat CANNOT tell anyone”

Margaery smiled deviously “Cross my heart”

“Jon’s been friends with this guy since his teens, right, and he was the one that introduced him to the club. It so happens that his family owns the auto shop we work in and he’s also smoking hot, I mean, steaming hot, drop dead gorgeous, looks that could kill kind guy. And you know what’s the worst?”

“what?”

“He knows he’s so damn irresistible, and he’s not afraid to show it. And he keeps teasing me, and calling me Red, and I’m trying really hard to keep my distance because I know nothing good will come from messing with him, but he’s starting to get on my nerves. Even the way he smokes is stupidly sexy, and that smug grin does things to me that I’m too ashamed to say out loud”

Sansa finished with a sigh, feeling a lot better for finally talking about her frustrations with her best-friend. Margaery, on the other end, was silent.

“You need to get laid” she finally said, despite the protests that erupted out of Sansa “So let me get this straight. Your boss is a hottie, your personal Christian Gray in leather, whiskey and smoke, that keeps flirting with you, and you’re having second thoughts?” Margaery asked, dumbfounded

“He’s my boss” Sansa recalled

“Yeah, I know”

“And he’s Jon’s best - and quite possibly - only friend” Sansa pressed

“That’s unfortunate. For Jon”

“Margie!”

“Alright, I get it, off limits” the brunette said, bringing her arms up, as a gesture of surrender “But I still think you need to get laid, to get him off your mind”

“Any suggestions?” Sansa joked, as her friend brought her hands down, and looked up, thoughtful

“The 4th of July weekend is coming up in a couple weeks, I could visit you and I would help you find a gentleman that is willing to... assist you in that matter. I can take Loras with me and we’d go out to a bar, or something. It’ll be fun” she finished, with a wink

Sansa chuckled “You’re my hero”

“I’m happy you be of service”

Sansa looked to the clock on the bed table, it was twenty minutes past midnight.

“I need to go to sleep now, but we’ll talk about your visit tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, bestie” Margaery waved and sent a kiss

“Love you more, bestie” Sansa replied, before ending the call

She sat the phone down on the table, next to the clock, and slipped inside the covers, feeling happy knowing her best-friend in the world was coming to spend a couple days with her, and she would finally get rid of that itch that was a certain mister Jax Teller.

*~*~*~*

Sansa set down the last book on the shelf with a self-satisfied grin on her face, as she finally finished organizing the accounting books of the Teller-Morrow Autoshop. It took her the better part of two weeks to do it, too, and countless late evenings, but it was done.

“Fuckin’ finally” said Gemma, as she tapped a stack of papers on the tabletop, aligning them perfectly, and set them inside a folder, closing it promptly “I’s starting to think we’d never see the end of it”

“Well, it’s done” Sansa stated, with a smile, and the older woman smiled back.

Sansa liked Gemma a lot, and it seemed to her that the feeling was reciprocate. Gemma had taken her in her wing, these past couple weeks, and Sansa had learned that there was nothing Gemma wouldn’t do for her family, and the club. All she asked in return was devotion, and honesty. She would occasionally ask about Sansa’s life before she came to Charming, about her family, her friends, and past lovers, and if there was a topic Sansa would evade - past lovers - she wouldn’t press on.

“So, have you got any plans for the 4th of July?” Gemma inquired, with a raised eyebrow, as she leaned back on her chair and lighted a cigarette, as Sansa sat down on her chair

“Actually yes, I do. My best-friend and her brother are coming for the weekend. Arya and the boys cleaned the backyard, and the pool, and I think we’ll have a BBQ” Sansa raised her head and looked towards Gemma, as an idea settled in “You should come. I mean, Jon could invite the club, everyone brings the family, and we’ll have a good time”

Gemma laughed “Oh honey, they would bring the house down”

“No, it’ll be fun, I like having them around”

Sansa was caught by surprise by her own admission. They were starting to grow on her. Gemma had been right, they were a big family, there was no way around it.

“Alright then” Gemma grinned, and Sansa noticed it was the same smug smile Jax had “But we need a fuckload of beer”

*~*~*~*

Even though it was only the beginning of the week, and the holiday was only on Sunday, Gemma had insisted to do the shopping beforehand. She had to stop by the cleaners, she had said. For that, Sansa was left “in charge” of the shop. It was not the first time, really, but it was the first time something went terribly wrong.

“FUCK!”

Sansa rushed to the garage, her heart pounding on her ears, when she noticed a terrified Eddie jumping up and down with his hands clasped on his butt-cheeks, while the rest of the group, Tig, Chibs, Jon and Juice stood there laughing their arses off, practically into tears.

“What in the hell happened!?” Sansa snaps, eyes wide and hands over her hips

“We’re just playin’ with the prospect, that’s all” Juice says in between coughs, as he tried to contain his laughter, as the rest of the group were too

“THEY SHOT ME IN THE ASS!!!” Half-Sack yells, and the loud laughter returned

Sansa frowned, looking at Jon with menace, and he began to explain, knowing fully well that she would kick his ass in front of the Sons if she didn’t get an answer “It was an accident, Sans. With a nail gun. He came out of nowhere, and-”

“Someone needs to take him to the ER” Sansa cut him off, pointing at the poor boy

“It’s nothing, no need to worry that pretty head of yours” Juice retorted, as the laughter was dying out

“You know what, Juice? You better watch your mouth or I’ll slap the bullshit out of you!”

There’s not a sound on the garage. Jon is wide-eyed and mouth open, paralyzed on the spot. Tig and Chibs, the wonder-duo, had adverted their gaze to anywhere expect her imposing frame, and Juice’s expression is a mix of confusion, and admiration.

“Whoa Sans, didn’t mean to upset ya” he said in an apologetic tone

“Just forget it, I’ll take him. C’mon Eddie, let’s go”

Sansa stormed out, pulling her car keys out of her back pocket, followed closely by an agonized prospect. She never meant to snap like that, specially at Juice, whose company she’d learned to appreciate over time, pet names aside. He was funny and kinda sweet, although a little empty-headed. She would apologized when she returned from the hospital, she had decided. But for now, she wanted to leave him feeling guilty for pushing her buttons a little too far. As she was reaching the door, she heard Juice’s voice “Damn Jon, ya sis got some big balls of steel!”

*~*~*~*

Jax enjoyed these little private times with Abel. Of course, for the baby it was all the same, whether he was there or not, but for him it meant the world. Abel was his world, at least, the innocent part of him that he hoped to preserve unstained. There was no hope for him and Wendy, no love left, but for Abel he knew, in his heart, that he had something good left to give.

So he would visit his baby son, and he would talk with him, for him, for a couple of hours everyday. And the baby responded well to his voice, Tara had said, as he was growing strong everyday. Jax couldn’t be more proud of the little ass-kicker.

The only matter he was still wary of was Tara, as in being around Tara and not get his heart broken, again. Tara had bailed on him once, and he knew that if things went south she’d do it again, it was her classic MO. Still, having her around once more made him optimistic, thinking that maybe this time she would stay with him.

But did he wanted her to stay? With him, for the matter? If felt bittersweet, thinking of Tara, looking back to their childhood good times and the way they’d loved one another without remembering the way he felt when she left. The hurt of the betrayal was still very present on his mind, and he wasn’t sure he could trust her again like he used to, specially now, that a wrong turn, a bad decision could affect directly the club, and his family.

And, to complicate things further, as if they weren’t a big mess as they were already, there was the growing infatuation on a certain redheaded goddess, a crush he didn’t seem to have any control of, that was leaving him a sleepless moron and a daydreamer, like a love-fool. He hated the power she had over him, even if she didn’t know it. She was too good for his lifestyle, anyway. What would happen to the sweet Sansa, being thrown into a world of chaos, blood and violence? He would never let that happen to her, he had decided, she deserved better.

Jax waved goodbye to Tara, and glance once over to Abel, as he left the nursery. He walked his confident stride, but he knew his face showed different, a bit gloomy. He hated when he was logical. Now he was brooding, he though to himself. What in the hell was she doing to him!?

As he walked by the emergency room, he noticed a tall frame of a woman with hair the colour of fire, that even behind a curtain he could see the bright shades of red, and he stopped abruptly. 

“Sansa?” he called, hesitantly, pushing the curtain aside slightly, just enough for him to peek through. She turned around, in surprise, but as soon as her eyes met his her face softened, and she gave him one of those smiles that race his heart, boiled his blood, and shook his bones.

“Oh- hey Jax” she said gently, and he rushed forward

“What happened?” he asked, and she raised her hand, pointing at Half-Sack. He was lying in the stretch facing down, his bloody butt-cheek sticking out of the hospital robe.

Jax raised his brow at Sansa, the curiosity of the situation making him grin, or maybe it was the sinful looks she was sending him as she spoke.

“Juice shot him in the ass with a nail gun”

Jax crossed his arms over his chest, trying really hard not to laugh his ass off. He looked at the boy, and back at Sansa, who was looking back at him, biting her lower lip, obviously trying not to laugh too. So fucking adorable.

“Well, I bet you can find a good use to that hole too” he finally said, mockingly, not being able to hold it in anymore

“Oh, screw you Jax!” Eddie yelled, raising his head at him, flustered

“I just might let you, if I can use the new hole” he said, winking at him, as Sansa made a repulsed expression and shove him aside, making him finally burst in laughter

“Jax, what are you still doin-?” Tara walked in, but stopped abruptly as she noticed he was not alone. 

“Tara, this is Sansa and Half-Sack, they work at the autoshop. Tara’s the doc looking after Abel, and she’s an old-friend” Jax explained, the latter part more directly at Sansa, although he wasn’t sure why

Tara glance at Sansa quickly, as she walked towards the stretch, holding the patient chart, analyzing it “It’s a small puncture, there’ll be no need for stitches. Just the tetanus shot and a bandage, and he’s out in 20 minutes, max”

“Thank you” Sansa said with a soft smile, and Tara smiled back

“Well, in that case I’m going back to the TM. Sans, need a lift?” he cursed himself under his breath, Tara was looking at him with curiosity

“Nah, I’ll wait for Eddie”

Eddie? What the fuck!? When did he became Eddie!?

“Besides, I brought my car” she finished with an apologetic smile

“Sure, whatever” he tried to sound casual, uninterested, but by the way Sansa looked confused, and Tara amused, he knew he was failing miserably. He needed to get out of there, quickly. He grabbed a cig as he turned around to the exit, already knowing the reaction he would draw out of Tara

“NO SMOKING INSIDE THE HOSPITAL!”

*~*~*~*

Sansa watched as Jax left the room, unsure of what to think of what had just happened. Jax looked uneasy when Tara joined them, they obviously had more in common than an old-friendship. Not that Sansa cared, anyways. Okay, maybe she cared a little. Tara was stunning, and she had a medical degree. She was no croweater.

“Hey, I’m gonna stop by Abel’s, do you wanna come with me?” Tara asks, and Sansa hesitates “It won’t take long, it’s just enough time for the nurse to take care to your friend”

Sansa couldn’t decline, it would be rude. So she nodded, and followed quietly the doctor into the nursery, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw the baby. Abel was lying inside an incubator, tubes covering his small frame and dressed only in a diaper. Sansa felt herself gasp at the sight of the fragile body, a recent scar covering most of his chest.

“He was born with an hereditary heart condition, passed on from Jax’s family” Tara noted, as she walked closer to the incubator. She looked back at Sansa, who was petrified at the door, and made a motion with her hand, pleading for her to join her.

“He was also born premature, due to his mother’s drug abuse”

“I know, Gemma told me” Sansa heard herself say, low and mechanical, as she could not advert her eyes from Abel. She felt herself grabbing hold of her own left wrist, brushing her finger softly over the handkerchief she wore folded as a bracelet. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him...

“You need to be careful with Gemma” Tara said, and Sansa looked away from the baby, right into her eyes “There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her family. And that makes her dangerous”

Sansa wasn’t a stupid girl. She knew Gemma was dangerous. They all were.

“I know what Gemma is, I know what they all are capable of” her gaze was intense, determined “But my brother Jon is a member of the club, so this is my home now. They can’t frighten me”

Tara shook her head, recognizing the eminent defeat, as the end of her mouth curled up slightly, obviously impressed by Sansa’s boldness. From now on she would think twice before underestimate Sansa ever again, for sure.

“May God help you then”

A.N.//- Well, here’s the second chapter! Didn’t expected to finish it so soon, but I’m really excited with this story progression. If the end seemed rushed, it’s because the chapter was getting long, and I didn’t wanted to break it in two. There will be plenty of Sansa and Tara interactions in the future, I promisse!

Sorry for any mispellings, english is not my native language, and I don’t have a beta-reader. Feedback = Love!

Taglist is OPEN: @lokilvrr​

#heartofnovocainefic #jax teller #sansa stark #sanjax #jax teller imagine #sansa stark imagine #crossover #fanfiction #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller fanfiction #sansa stark fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thones au #soa #got #got au #eabamh masterlist

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

EPILOGUE (AO3)

AN: There is discussion of symptoms of post-traumatic stress in this epilogue. It's nothing too dramatic, I don't think, but I wanted to note it for anyone who is sensitive to the topic. Please take care of yourselves, readers.

Jake was right – the ceremony was no New York Public Library gala. The room was decorated with wilted streamers and a few drooping mylar balloons, and it had a stale high-school cafeteria aroma. All of the appetizers plus the sparkling cider – which was definitely not Champagne – were an unappealing room temperature. The metal folding chairs were stiff and unforgiving, and Amy’s butt was falling asleep.

But as she sat in the front row among the cops and politicians who made up the bulk of the audience, as she watched Jake stand square-shouldered in his dress blues – as the commissioner thanked him for his bravery and hung the Medal of Honor over his chest – Amy blinked back tears and thought: This is exactly right.

An elbow nudged her gently, and Amy looked down to find a tissue pushed discreetly into her hand. She glanced to her right and caught Melanie’s eye.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Melanie whispered, quickly brushing a stray tear from the corner of her own eye.

Amy looked back at the stage, where Rosa was now getting her medal, and she saw the barely-there smirk on Jake’s face as he caught her eye.

“I think they’re onto us anyway,” she muttered to Melanie, and they both laughed under their breath and dabbed at their eyes.

+++

The weeks after they’d been kidnapped had been rough.

It started a day or two after she’d gone back to work. At first Amy noticed that she startled easily. Car alarms, the bang of a door slamming shut, the thud of a stack of newspapers dropped on a newsroom desk – any loud, sudden noise made her heart race and her breath catch in her chest. She thought it was lack of sleep or stress about work, then Charles came up behind her one day at the copy machine and she was so surprised – so scared – that she elbowed him in the gut and very nearly stomped on his hand when he fell to his knees. Terry took her aside after that and gently suggested she take some time off. Later he slid a business card into her hand and said it was his own therapist, and Amy should make an appointment.

She dismissed his concerns at first, but then she called in sick two days in a row when it was too cold to walk and the thought of getting on the subway, surrounded by the noisy chaos of too many strangers packed into a too-small space, sent her into a panic. So she called the therapist, and after one nerve-racking visit she was diagnosed with acute stress disorder.

Though Amy knew it wasn’t logical she felt instantly, deeply ashamed. She told herself that she couldn’t be traumatized, that she’d come through it all fine, no injuries, barely even a bruise. So she’d been scared for a few hours – they’d been held in a penthouse suite the whole time, lounging on a king-sized bed with silk sheets and embroidered throw pillows.

But she couldn’t stop feeling scared, and sometimes she couldn’t stop crying, and sometimes she felt so angry that her blood pulsed in her temples and her neck. The worst was when she was overwhelmed or overstimulated and seemed to float out of her own body, like the real world was slipping away while she stood by, cotton-headed and paralyzed. Her therapist called it dissociation. She said it was normal. It made Amy feel like she was losing her mind.

Jake figured out pretty quickly what was going on, and he told her it was understandable that she had post traumatic stress, that he’d been there too, in the past. He was gentle with her and he validated every one of her roller coaster emotions and he didn’t judge her or patronize her. And when she threw him out of her apartment one night because she fucking needed to be alone, she texted him an hour later and he was at her door instantly, because he’d stayed in the hallway the whole time, waiting for her to come back to him.

After that they talked about trust some more, because it always seemed to come back to trust between them. Amy realized she needed to trust that she could lean on Jake, that he wasn’t going to break and neither was she if she let him take care of her sometimes. And Jake realized he needed to trust Amy when she said it was time to handle things on her own. Amy knew she’d gotten the easier deal, because she couldn’t imagine watching Jake hurt and letting him go.

But it had been eight weeks since the Vulture. Amy could take the subway to work again. She didn’t jump out of her skin every time a taxi honked or Gina suddenly swore at someone on the phone. She still sometimes cried in the shower for no obvious reason, but she hadn’t yelled at Jake since that one night.

And Jake – he was so good. They were great.

+++

Jake and Rosa were swarmed by reporters as they walked off the stage after the ceremony. Normally this kind of commendation wouldn’t get any media attention, but the Vulture story was still huge, and now every local publication was present. Amy spotted Hitchcock in the fray – he was pretty much the only person on the Bulletin staff without any ties to Jake, at this point – and also Adrian Pimento, their new photographer. Pimento was a talented shooter but had a tendency to go rogue on his assignments. Amy avoided working with him.

Amy and Melanie watched with amusement as their significant others braved the throngs, and Amy couldn’t help the flush of pride at how Jake handled himself. She’d drilled him over the weekend on how to handle the press, and the practice seemed to be paying off. She could read the signs of stress in the fine lines between his eyebrows and around his mouth, but to a casual observer he would look courteous and professional. Rosa, on the other hand, was standing just behind his shoulder and scowling. Amy couldn’t hear what either of them was saying, but every now and then she saw Rosa frown even more deeply and respond with a “no comment” Amy could read from across the room.

When they finally broke free, they bee-lined for Amy and Melanie and both couples exchanged the briefest of cheek-kisses before everyone seemed to deflate with relief and the simple joy of being on their own in the crowd.

“I still can’t believe we got the same medal when only one of us was kidnapped and stabbed,” Jake said to Rosa, who smirked at him.

“Not my fault you got your ass captured,” Rosa said, and turned to Amy. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Amy said. “But if anyone should be annoyed, it’s the woman who helped take down the Vulture and got kidnapped and nearly died and isn’t getting any medal at all.”

Everyone laughed and Jake gave her a quick one-armed hug. Melanie said, “I thought there were rumors that the mayor was going to give you some kind of civilian commendation?”

“Yeah, but probably not after that piece on the mayor’s slush fund she wrote last week,” Rosa said.

“Plus, she’d never take a commendation from the mayor,” Jake added. When everyone glanced at him he shrugged and said, “Conflict of interest. Right, babe?”

Amy just beamed at him and said, “You do know me.”

+++

Amy had met Jake’s mom the weekend after the kidnapping, when she had a well-timed lull between breakdowns and Karen came by Jake’s apartment with a bag of frozen meals to get him through the couple of weeks his arm would be in the sling. Jake had met Amy’s dad and the rest of her brothers over Christmas. They both made great first impressions – Amy because Karen was kind and sweet-natured and basically impossible to scare off, and Jake because her family had decided he had saved Amy’s life, despite Jake insisting that it was mostly the other way around.

She’d been exhausted after the holidays, burned out on anxiety and too much family, and they spent New Year’s Eve in her bed, watching old TV blooper reels and favorite SNL sketches on their phones until they both drifted off, well before midnight. And Amy thought if it was true that how one spent the last hours of the old year would be echoed in the new year, she was all right with that.

They mostly stayed holed up in her apartment or Jake’s after that, though they met Rosa and Melanie for drinks more than once. Those two were an odd but charming couple, a sweet-and-sour combination that clearly brought out the best in both of them. Melanie was warm and easy to just be with, even when Amy felt socially exhausted. And Amy found in Rosa a surprising ally as she worked through her issues, because Rosa was an attentive listener and also brutally no-nonsense. Sometimes Amy needed to spiral a little bit, but sometimes she needed someone to shut her down, or to help her put things in perspective.

“I’m just tired of having a panic attack every time the Uber Eats guy buzzes my apartment,” Amy said morosely one night at Shaw’s, when it was just the two of them at a table while Jake and Melanie dueled over darts.

“Yeah, it’s ridiculous,” Rosa said.

Amy froze. She was getting used to Rosa’s bluntness, but there was blunt and then there was insensitive. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m ridiculous-”

“Not you,” Rosa said. “Our brains are wired to turn trauma into chronic stress sometimes. It’s dumb. I hate it.”

Amy stared at her, mouth agape, because it wasn’t every day a revelation was dropped in her lap. “Yeah,” she said. “It is dumb.”

+++

Jake slipped Amy’s glass of (flat) sparkling cider from her hand and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. Then he turned and offered her his arm.

“Time to mingle?” he said.

And it was a small gesture, but it made Amy’s heart rush to loop her hand over his bicep and let him escort her toward the crowd. Rosa rolled her eyes as he led her away, but Melanie gave them a playful wave and mouthed “good luck.”

“So now I’m just arm candy?” Amy said to him.

“Always. Wait- never,” Jake said. “Is that a trick question?” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

They hadn’t actually discussed that this would be their first big outing as a couple. Somehow, despite all the press around the Vulture and countless interviews with Amy (and a few with Jake) and multiple in-depth stories about the night they’d been kidnapped, the fact that they were dating had not been made public. Amy wasn’t sure why anyone who wasn’t family or friend would care at this point. Still, given their history, she’d expected Jake to be nervous about coming out.

But his only reservations in the days leading up to the ceremony had been for her sake – making sure that she was going to be okay with all of the people and the socializing. They’d walked into the venue hand-in-hand, Jake in his crisp uniform and Amy in a wintery-green day dress. She’d felt a flutter of nerves in her belly, but only for a moment, and he’d pressed her fingers as if he sensed she needed the reassurance. They’d met up with Rosa and Melanie inside, and Jake had found Amy a seat and he’d stayed by her side until the ceremony began, and she wasn’t sure if his attentiveness was out of concern or affection or both, but she appreciated it all the same.

Now, as they moved through the celebratory mob, Jake was enthusiastic with his introductions. Amy met men and women he’d been in the academy with, and former partners and mentors from before his time under the Vulture. Everyone seemed to have a story about Jake to share – some prank he’d pulled, an amazing solve he’d made, how if anyone was going to take down a captain they would have put their money on Peralta. There were also an alarming number of stories about horrible bouts of food poisoning, and Jake apparently had a bizarre tendency to accidentally pants people. She thought that was some kind of running joke until she caught Jake blushing furiously after the third story.

After a while they found themselves surrounded by a few high-ranking officers, stumbling over each other to congratulate Jake and make some comment about how they’d always had doubts about Pembroke, which was as hilarious as it was insulting because men like the Vulture didn’t climb the NYPD ladder without support from the top. Jake introduced her to his new captain too, a man who insisted she call him CJ, and who seemed pleasant enough; both Jake and Rosa had said the jury was still out.

Amy was glancing around the cluster of brass, thinking how odd it was to be standing with so many gray-haired white men who looked the same, when she noticed a faint buzzing in her ears and a tingling in her fingertips – signs of an impending dissociation. She fought it for a moment, impulsively chastising herself for becoming overwhelmed in such a non-threatening place, but then she reminded herself that it wasn’t her fault and she wasn’t alone. She was still holding onto Jake, and she squeezed his arm slightly. He glanced at her and must have recognized something on her face, because he interrupted his captain, and with barely an “excuse us, sir” he led Amy away.

He took her to a quiet corner of the room, where they could watch the clutches of people talking and laughing, wait staff slipping in between to pick up used glasses and plates. A DJ set up near the stage was playing something Amy couldn’t quite make out. Jake slipped behind her and tucked his arms around her waist, holding her to him. She felt him kiss the top of her head, felt his thumbs rub over her knuckles, felt his chest solid and reassuring against her back. She leaned into him and breathed through the anxiety. Keeping herself in the moment. Letting him ground her.

When she felt like herself again, she closed her hands over his briefly, and turned in his arms to face him. He gave her a careful smile, and she nodded back at him that she was okay – because she was, truly.

She let her eyes fall to the star-shaped medal on his chest, and she reached for it, holding it in the palm of her hand. It was heavier than she’d expected, and cool to the touch. She ran a thumb over the points of the star.

“You realize,” she said, now tracing the engraving with the tip of a finger, “I’m going to need you to wear this all night.”

She looked up at him with a coy smile, expecting a flirty smirk in return, or a whispered suggestion of what else the night would bring. Instead, the smile he gave her was soft, even wistful, and the warmth in his eyes made her stomach do a slow flip.

“You realize that I’m in love with you,” he said.

Amy felt her cheeks flush, felt the warm rush of tears in her eyes, and she nodded, because yes, she did know. She’d felt the same for a while now, and maybe it had been petty of her but she’d needed him to say it first. She thought maybe they’d both needed that.

“I know,” she said, when she thought she could trust her voice. She brought her hands up around his neck, felt his hands at her back, pulling her a little closer. “I love you too.”

The kiss was just a brush of their lips, but also a promise.

+++

Rosa and Melanie came up not long after, Rosa complaining that she was straight-up insulted that there was no open bar. “Can we leave for your mom’s now?” she said.

Jake pulled out his phone and glanced at the time, and he noted that they would be a little early to the after-party that Karen was hosting but she wouldn’t mind.

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Melanie said, ditching a plate filled with half-eaten appetizers on a side table as the four of them headed toward an exit near the stage.

“We might want to stop somewhere for a snack first – Charles arranged the catering,” Rosa said.

“Smart,” Melanie said.

They disappeared into the lobby, Amy and Jake right behind, but Jake paused when someone called out his name. Amy turned, and it took her a moment to recognize the man jogging toward them, an anxious smile on his face – he ran a new Brooklyn newsletter-slash-gossip blog. She’d seen him at a few recent press events. She thought his name was Teddy.

“Can I get a photo?” maybe-Teddy said, addressing both of them.

Amy opened her mouth to say no, but Jake was faster, and he said, “Sure” and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. Teddy grinned and lifted his phone, and just before he snapped the picture Jake turned and planted a kiss on the corner of Amy’s mouth. It was sweet and it was chaste but it was also a kiss, and Amy blinked in surprise as Jake pulled away with a sheepish smile.

The photo ran on the top of Teddy’s blog that night. Two days after that, Amy found a printed-out copy of it on Jake’s refrigerator, under a Donatello magnet. The image was slightly out of focus, and the quality of the black-and-white print was not good, but it was impossible not to see the warmth and the love between them. Jake’s eyes were closed, his lips curved into the hint of a smile against her mouth, and Amy looked like she was a breath away from laughing, utterly charmed by her impulsive boyfriend.

“It’s not the first time we made news together,” Jake told her, when Amy asked why he’d put the photo on display. “But it’s the best.”

Amy told him that was the cheesiest thing he’d ever said and she was never going to let him forget it, and he said, “Promise?” And she kissed him.

The photo ended up on Amy’s refrigerator when Jake moved in with her six months later. She laminated it.

And that, officially, is the end. <3

#b99 fic #peraltiago #jake and amy au #newspaper au #life writes its own stories

[goddessofthundathighs]

I. O’SHEA THE INSATIABLE

Evan, aka Disappointment #3 in O’Shea’s phone, panted over her, sweat dripping onto her face. The bed shook and the headboard clapped loudly against the wall. His eyes were screwed shut, his breathing heavy and his grunts gorilla-like. O’Shea looked out from under his arm into his slim floor-length mirror. Her face was of pure disappointment. This was punishment dick. She was punishing herself with weak dick because she'd scared away another real prospect, Damien Jones. Damien was 6’2, chocolate with tattoos, a bright smile, a good job, and better taste in shoes. All of those things rarely came together well. It was smooth sailing until she let Bennie out of the cage. Who was Bennie? Bennie was the unquenchable demon between her thighs. She remembered that fateful night in vivid detail.

“Wait, wait!” the man called out in a panicked voice. He and O’Shea had been going at it for almost two hours and after 5 Earth-shattering orgasms, she was still begging him for more.

“You gotta calm down babygirl. Give me a second, dick machine broke.”

“What you mean broke?” she inquired, crossing her arms over her chest. “We haven’t seen each other in two weeks, Damien. The dick machine should be primed and prepped for go time.”

“It was, two hours ago. You gotta let me rest.” She groaned in exasperation as her small body flopped back down against her satin pillowcase.

“Daddyyyy,” she whined in the innocent voice she knew he couldn’t resist. “Just let me suck it one more time and I promise I’ll be done.” He raised one eyebrow, not sure if he believed her or not, but quickly lost that train of thought once he felt her tongue licking a long stripe up the underside of his shaft. That one little action lead to two more hours and countless more orgasms until he pinned her to the bed to stop her from touching him again.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you girl, but you dangerous.” She only giggled in response, knowing that it was no longer her that was running the show. Bennie had been present and accounted for ever since he called her his little nasty bitch as she sucked him off on the drive back to her house. As they pulled up to her place, Damien let out a heavy sigh puffing his cheeks as he released himself in the back of her throat.

“Yo, we gotta cool off for a minute,” Damien stated once the car had stopped moving.

“Why?” O’Shea questioned, thoroughly confused.

“You’re a real cool girl with one of the dopest personalities I’ve encountered in a while, but your sex drive is way too damn high and if I’m being honest, it’s a little unattractive.”

“Unattractive?! Most niggas would kill for a woman to serve pussy up on a silver platter anytime and anyplace.”

“Yeah, but I’m not most niggas. See you around.” With that, he sped off into the California sunset, leaving O’Shea somehow even more horny than before.

Evan finished with a loud grunt, spilling himself into the condom. Finally, O’Shea thought to herself. Before she could fix her lips to ask him to drive her home, he was asleep, passed out beside her like he’d just worked a 15-hour shift at a Nissan plant. Shea rolled her eyes as she pulled her clothes back on and waited for the Lyft back to her apartment. This would definitely be their last encounter.

--

“Why you so uptight?” Skylar asked O’Shea as she drug her feet into the toy shop. Dr. Skylar Greene was an expert in the female anatomy and owned the biggest adult toy store in California. She’d hired O’Shea to be the creative director to her new sex toy line.

“I’m just sick of whack niggas delivering whack dick. I haven’t had a decent orgasm in months and it’s not from lack of trying.”

“Have you seen a therapist?”

“I’m not crazy, Sky.”

“No one said you were. Here, go see my best friend. If he can’t cure you, then you’re a lost cause.” With that, Skylar handed Shea a business card and wandered to the back of the store saying something about inventory. O’Shea twirled the card in her hand for a bit before sticking it in her pocket. She’d make an appointment later.

Before Shea knew it, it was almost midnight and she was still huddled at her design table in the back of the shop. Skylar had liked the idea of a ribbed toy so much that she had her start designing the prototype asap. She yawned and stretched before grabbing her purse and keys and heading out the door, sure to lock up behind her. Morning came and she found herself still in the clothes she wore to work the previous day. After a quick shower and the rest of her morning rituals, she fished the business card out of her jacket pocket and dialed the number.

“Dr. Stevens’ office, how can I help you?” a young woman called from the other end of the receiver. O’Shea took a deep steadying breath before speaking.

“Yes, my name is O’Shea Powell and I’d like to make an appointment.”

“Oh, yes, Ms. Powell. Dr. Greene has already spoken to Dr. Stevens and if you’re free this afternoon, he has a 1:00 appointment slot open.” Gee, thanks Sky.

“That’s perfect, I’ll be there.”

“Alrighty, Ms. Powell. See you this afternoon.” With that, O’Shea sauntered to her closet to find something to wear. She settled on a black bandeau top with black leggings and her black So Kate Louboutins. She completed the look with tan duster and her black Prada sunglasses. She wanted to look sexy, but not desperate. She followed the directions to his office, noting that it was approximately 10 minutes from the toy store. Guess these two really are close. She parked her Porche in the designated area before making the journey to the 11th floor. The secretary greeted her immediately.

“Ms. Powell?”

“Yes?”

“Good afternoon, I’m Harper, Dr. Stevens’ secretary. Dr. Greene is already inside and they’re expecting you.” O’Shea nodded and walked into the lavish office. It was decorated in all black with gold and white accents. African-themed art littered the east and west walls of the office while his degrees and photos of him and Skylar occupied the wall behind his desk. He sat atop the desk dressed in navy blue slacks and a white button up. A navy bow tie and navy Louis Vuitton loafers completed the look. His dreads were neatly braided to the back of his head and gold wired glasses adorned his face. Skylar had mentioned how good looking her best friend was, but she neglected to mention that he looked as though God and all of the angels handmade him, taking their time to make sure that he was perfect.

“Ms. Powell, nice of you to join us.” His voice caused an instant flood in her panties. It was deep and rich like bourbon. She smiled sweetly at him, before sending a look to Skylar. The two were definitely going to have a talk about this later.

“Well, I’ll let you two get to know one another. See you at work tomorrow, Shea,” Sky teased before sauntering out of the office. She knew she’d made the right decision in recommending O’Shea to Erik. He, like herself, was an expert in sex and the female anatomy and he just so happened to be single. She knew that if his treatment was successful, not only would Shea be saved from wack dick, but she’d also have a lifetime companion.

“So what brings you in today, Ms. Powell?”

“What, you mean Sky didn’t tell you?”

“Oh no, she did, but I’d like to hear it from your mouth.”

“Well, as of late I’ve been having trouble achieving orgasms. I know what I like and I know all of the things necessary to get me to that point, but nothing seems to be working. I’ve scared off all of my usual dick appointments because they say that my sex drive is too high and it’s unattractive, which I find absolutely ridiculous.” Erik nodded as she explained, occasionally writing things down in his notepad.

“Toys?”

���Tried almost every toy known to man, including ones I’ve personally designed.”

“What are your kinks, Ms. Powell? What turns you on?” O’Shea smiled a devilish smile before answering.

“Well, to be honest, I like a lot of things.”

“Elaborate.”

“Well, I like choking, dubious consent, saliva or spitting in my mouth and pussy, ddlg, voyeurism, edging and orgasm denial, collaring, face fucking, cream pies, blasphemy, and any and all forms of public sex just to name a few.”

“Blasphemy?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Being that inappropriate things turn me on, I’m super big on religion play, sex in church and sex while wearing religious paraphernalia.”

“Oh so you nasty nasty?” He inquired with a smile, his gold bottom canines peeking from behind his full bottom lip.

“You could say that.”

“And what about name calling?”

“Degradation can be very sexy when done right, Dr. Stevens.” He nodded with a smirk as he wrote more notes.

“So you like to be called a little nasty bitch and shit like that?” He asked, looking up from his notebook. It took all of her willpower not to moan out loud. There was something about the way her favorite pet name fell from his lips coupled with the way he looked at her that made her core heat.

“Y-Yes,” she replied, her voice much more shaky than she intended.

“Don’t get all shy now,” he teased. “You’ve already told me what a little nasty bitch you are, might as well keep talking.” His voice dropped an octave and O’Shea was ready to drop her panties. Though she knew he was triggering her on purpose, she allowed it.

“I’ve got something I want you to try,” he spoke, reaching behind him while still holding her gaze. “My cousin designed this toy in Wakanda. It’s been tested to make its user cum within the first 30 seconds of use when paired with this lubricant. I want you to use it and report back to me in a week, understand?”

“Yes Da— Dr. Stevens.” He chuckled, his voice still deep and seductive.

“I can be Daddy if you want me to be, Ms. Powell, but it’ll cost you.”

“Cost me what?” she inquired, completely turned on and close to cumming from just his conversation.

“You’ll find out if this doesn’t work for you,” he retorted with a wink and a sly smirk. “Until then, this is your prescription and I expect you to fill it. Each and every inch of it,” he said, placing his index finger under her chin to guide her gaze back to his.

“Can you do that for me?” She nodded.

“Words, Princess.”

“Yes, Dr. Stevens.” Her voice was soft and needy, a sure sign that she was close.

“Good girl,” he purred, ghosting his lips over hers. “See you next week. Harper, send in my next client,” he said into the intercom system, pulling O’Shea from her trance. She could already tell that this wouldn’t be the last she saw of the good doctor.

—————————

@ledouxange7 @vikkidc @bartierbakarimobisson @raysunshine78 @amethyst1993 @trevantesbrat @kaykay0829 @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @forbeautyandlife @tntnv @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @madamslayyy @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @thehomierobbstark @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @yaachtynoboat711 @blowmymbackout @youreadthatright @beaut1fulone-blog @bugngiz @amirra88 @chefjessypooh @post-woke @theogbadbitch @im5ftbutmythroat66 @queengodiva619

#vanity writes #my shit #erik stevens #killmonger smut #daddy erik #killmonger fic #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x black oc

[hannahmcne]

Westward sc 3

When he woke up, he was buried underneath a very large, heavy blanket that was pressing him into a thick comforter. The feeling would have been relaxing if it hadn't been so unbearably hot. Slowly, Ben crawled out from underneath the weighted item and discovered that his shoulders, knees, wrists, and ankles were sore. He winced as he rubbed them and then squinted at the daylight visible at the top of the teepee. It looked like mid-afternoon outside and was high-noon in Agrabah inside the teepee.

Ben picked at his clothes. He looked like he'd walked through a waterfall. He was completely drenched in his own sweat and completely parched. He ran his hands through his hair and then found, like Evie had promised, a new outfit laid on a tarp at the center pole of the teepee, where he had originally fallen asleep. A long-sleeved maroon shirt that looked like something that would keep him warm on a jog in November, some tan pants with very deep pockets, and a pair of shoes that were brown with black designs on the sides. He wondered if Evie had made them.

He wasn't too excited to see the winterish clothes but grateful that Evie had come through nonetheless. He wondered what his wardrobe would be the next few months and found he wasn't exactly sorry to say goodbye to suits and polished shoes for a little bit.

He rolled the sleeves up on the shirt to his elbows before he wandered closer to the flap of the teepee. He could hear people bustling around outside. He wondered if it was 'safe' to go out now. He wasn't exactly wearing Auradon colors anymore. What if Evie, Mal, or Uma got mad at him?

He pushed the flap open and stepped out. And the sight outside shocked and scared and thrilled and amazed him all at once. There were so many people.

People were rushing across the camp, which was actually much larger than Ben had first realized. People were standing and chatting, passing water bottles back and forth with bright smiles. People were tending small shops and exchanging wares. Hurt people sat in chairs and talked with each other. Young children raced on little horse and dragon toys, and there were even young adults his age who were walking arm in arm, shoving each other, everything. There were carts and small wagons lining the outside of the main road, which stretched for at least two miles in either way. There were other teepees and small structures, but it appeared everyone was living out of wagons and off the land. How extraordinary.

"Ben!" Someone called, and Ben's head snapped up in the direction of Jay, who was sitting on the back of a cart with Mal and Carlos. Mal was kicking her legs back and forth nonchalantly, and the sight of her made him pause before he glanced to make sure he wouldn't run into anyone and then crossed the road to join them.

"Sleep well?" Jay asked with a laugh as Ben neared them. "You look like you came back from the dead."

"Close enough," Ben shrugged, shielding a yawn. "How long was I out?"

"Four years," Mal drawled. "We made it all the way to the new land without you."

Ben snorted at the same time as Carlos. He took that as a good sign – he was catching on to her humor rather well. Mal looked down at him, carefully taking in the red shirt and his mussed hair, and then glanced away.

"It's only just starting to become evening," Jay assured him. "But we've got things on their way. Some people are already packing up. I think Evie is gonna have your teepee dismantled with the rest and put your stuff in with Carlos and I's wagon. That okay?"

"Only if it's okay with you," Ben assured Jay. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nah, it's cool, man," Carlos nodded. "We've never met a king before. We'll have to assimilate you into Isle culture."

"Assila-wha?" Jay crinkled his brow. "You and Evie both talk mouthfuls."

"It means to integrate. To mix," Ben supplied.

Jay rolled his eyes. "Well, look at this, guys," he elbowed Carlos with a roll of his eyes. "He's pretty, he gives inspirational speeches, and he has a brain."

"Two of those are true," Ben conceded. "However, I'm not sure my looks prevailed after having my face in the mud and then passing out for, well, all day." He tried not to look at Mal or Jay too hard or to sound like he was accusing them.

"Beauty is pain," Mal drawled, pulling her leg up onto her knee and continuing to kick the other one out. "And it could be worse. You could have been woken up right before midnight, hiked through the forest with a defense squadron thinking that the high kingdom had sent someone to order you to move or be moved, accidentally kidnapped the King of Auradon and then stayed up till now without a nap so you could go hunting to feed two-hundred kids and young adults." Mal let out a long, loud, piercing yawn. "I have been up for seventeen hours on two hours of rest."

"My cot is still set up if you want it?" Ben offered, cringing a little as he imagined how damp it might be from him basically drowning in his own sweat. Luckily, Mal didn't seem interested. "And wow, you lead defense squads, cast magic spells, and feed the masses. Anything else?"

"Spray paint," Jay mumbled under his breath. Mal kicked him.

"Excuse you," She spat. "Spray paint is a noble art form. I'd like to see you create anything remotely intelligible."

Jay furrowed his brow. "Intelli-wha?" He asked.

"Don't hate on the spray paint," Carlo nodded. "Her crap is pretty darn near perfect."

Mal let out a snort. "Ha! That's me, I am perfect. She multi-tasks; she dabbles."

"You're the best," Carlos shrugged. Mal nodded in agreement.

"Are you guys… a couple?" Ben asked slowly, glancing between Mal and Carlos. Carlos burst into laughter while Mal gave him an unimpressed look.

"No," She shook her head. "No. So don't get all worried, Prince Charming."

Ben's face turned red as he held up his hands. "I wasn't implying anything," He insisted. "I just wasn't expecting such high praise among friends from the Isle of the Lost."

"We're more like family," Jay explained. His face had taken on some dark tones and he was examining Ben in that same way Evie had been.

"Nah," Mal shook her head and kicked him again. "The King's right. We're like a gigantic lust-fest. You, me, Evie, and Carlos. We're all in a gigantic, messy relationship together."

"Oh, does that mean I get to hold your hand and bring you flowers?" Jay puckered his lips out as he teased her. Immediately, a cloud of rage darkened Mal's face.

"No, that's what Evie's for," She shoved Jay off the cart this time. "But you can walk down the street and make sure Shrimpy isn't messing anything up."

"You're too much work, Mal," Jay sighed. "I'm breaking up with you. You can keep Evie and Carlos."

"Who's Shrimpy?" Ben asked, crossing his arms and choosing not to comment as Carlos began to laugh even harder.

"Uma," Jay rolled his eyes. "She and Mal are having this power struggle that Evie usually balances out."

"It's not a power struggle," Mal hissed. "I'm more powerful than her. Especially here. Her little seashell trick only works near the ocean. I can turn into a dragon wherever. What we have is her thinking she can control me, and Evie trying to convince me to let her."

"So Evie's in charge?" Ben asked, glancing between Carlos and Jay in amusement.

"Evie's our people leader," Jay explained. "She's the, uh, Carlos, what's the word?"

"Executive person," Carlos supplied. "She works better at getting the people to rally behind her, though Mal and Evie both think they're effective leaders." He elbowed Mal, who simmered. "Uma is better at dividing resources and keeping track of things, so she's our Resource Advocate. Mal, you probably noticed, is a fighter. She's the one who keeps us safe and handles the weapons, the squads, anything involving hunting or fighting, etc…"

"Military," Ben supplied. "Cool. It looks like you have things going."

A whiff of something nice caught his nose and he turned to look down the road. In the distance, a thin smoke was rising. "Is that where Uma is now?"

"Yeah," Carlos nodded. "Mal and whoever else was hunting today brought back a few deer. Uma, Harry, Gil, and the pirates used to work her mom's food shop on the Isle, so they and whoever else can cook are handling it."

"I hope she falls in," Mal muttered under her breath. "I wonder what fried octopus tastes like."

"Have you ever tried being nice to her?" Ben suggested, raising his eyes at Mal.

"Have you ever tried kissing up to a live wire?" Mal shot back, turning her fiery gaze on him.

"No, why did you do that?" Ben replied. Carlos snorted and shoved Mal's arm. Mal scoffed and kicked her leg out at Ben. Ben caught her boot and held it up higher. Mal yelped a little as she scooted forward and scowled at Ben as Carlos and Jay both laughed at her. Ben took a moment to examine her foot in his hands. It was small – he could wrap his entire hand around her sole – and he probably had mugs at the palace with a wider diameter than her ankles. Tiny little Cinderella feet, this girl had. But she made up for her size with what looked like acres of toned muscle. He could see strength in every single tendon going up her leg. It helped that she was wearing tight pants with a few threadbare places behind her knees, across her calves, and even stretching up inside her thighs.

He dropped her foot as he felt his face growing a bit warm. Mal scowled a little as she moved back to her original position but didn't seem to have noticed him examining her. Either that, or she seemed to not care. Jay and Carlos, on the other hand, exchanged a cautious look.

Jay leaned forward and clapped Ben's shoulder. "Come on," He invited. "I'll show you Uma's area. You'll probably be helping us pack things up there tomorrow."

Ben nodded and let his eyes rest first on Carlos and then on Mal. He put a hand behind his back and bowed to them both, to which Carlos snorted at again. Then, without another glance back, he followed Jay away.

As soon as they were in the midst of the crowd and out of sight of the cart, Jay swung an arm around Ben's neck. "Okay, listen up," He whispered in a hushed, warning tone. "I want you to picture Mal for a second. Don't ask questions; just do it."

Ben blinked. It wasn't hard to conjure up the image of the purple-haired fairy – especially so soon after glancing at those long, long legs she had. "Okay?" He questioned, furrowing his brow.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Jay pressed his lips together. "I'm sure you noticed how her mouth is all one color and how her eyes have those little flecks that catch the sun, right?"

Ben's mouth went dry. "Jay, if she's yours, then-"

"She's not," Jay hissed, cutting him off. "She's no one's. That's why I'm telling you this – don't go after her. She's pretty to look at, but don't touch her. She's dangerous."

Dangerous. He said it the way you would talk about a person's identity. They're Christian. They're Bisexual. They're president of the women's court or they're the national tourney champion. Not a description; a title. "That's what Evie told me about her," Ben nodded. "But, uh, Jay, I wasn't-"

"Evie's right," Jay interrupted. "Because that purple-haired pixie has more fight in her pinky finger than the rest of us do in our bodies. Even Uma. And she doesn't exactly consider love a priority."

"Jay," Ben interjected with a blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm, uh, taken back home. I'm not going to make a move on Mal."

Jay blinked in surprise. "You're taken?" He asked. "As in, you've got someone waiting for you? Why did you agree to stay, then?"

"I, uh-" Ben stammered and then swallowed. "It's complicated. But she'll understand."

"Sheesh," Jay snorted. "Must be one heck of a patient lady. Alright, then."

They stepped under a little string of blue lights and Ben saw people hard at work cutting up the carcasses of several deer. Dozens of small, hot fires were being tended to by a variety of people in teal blue. Most of them seemed to be pirates. Ben watched a pirate with a teal sash tied around his hat take a large, clean knife from a collection.

"Be warned: Uma might put you to work," Jay called in his ear to be heard over the noise.

Ben looked around at the hustle and bustle. His stomach growled a little at the good smell in the air. "I'd be happy to help,"

"Wonderful," A voice came from his immediate right. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Uma put a hand on his bicep and turned him around. "You ever done any of this before?" She gestured over her shoulder to the deer, which had been strung up with rope so they could effectively get the meat off, and pulled a long, sharp, clean knife out of the pile.

Ben glanced over his shoulder and discovered that Jay had vanished. That didn't surprise him. "I have done high school dissections and I'm a quick learner," Ben shrugged. To be honest, he'd much rather be tending the fire than dismembering meat, but if that's what Uma needed then he would do it.

"Lovely," Uma clapped him on the arm and handed him the knife. "Gil has been at this for four hours since Mal's crew started bringing in the first few. They brought in extra so we could smoke some and that way we don't have to stop as we travel. I'm going to have him show you how to do it so you can take his place and then when all is said and done, you'll either be on the smoke racks or cooking things with Harry." She pointed at a tall, bulky, blonde-haired man who was mostly apart from everyone else. Ben nodded and, taking the knife firmly in his hand, headed towards the lone outsider.

"Hey, I'm Ben," He called when he got near enough. "Uma sent me to help you out. She said she wants you to teach me how to do this and then take a break."

Gil wiped off his forehead as he stood up and looked at Ben. His face lit up with a bright, childish smile. "Hey man! I know you! You're the character who passed out in the teepee today when we were bringing you your cot!"

Ben turned a little red. "Yeah, sorry about that," He apologized. "I meant to be awake to help you guys but I, uh, had lost a lot of sleep."

"Hey, no problem," Gil reassured him. "And uh, you're King Ben, right? I know you, man!"

"Really?" Ben raised an eyebrow and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "No one has recognized me yet."

"Well, my dad talks about your dad a lot," Gil said nonchalantly. "My dad… well, I'll give you a hint. He's quick, slick, and his neck is incredibly think."

G. Gil. Gaston. Ben inclined his head. "Do you… have a problem with me?" He asked cautiously. "I mean, I don't have a problem with you, but…"

"Nah," Gil shook his head. "I never really cared. But hey, when you get back to the castle, tell your mom that Gaston says hi, and tell your dad that – well, actually, don't mention that." He snorted and then gestured to the deer he was working on. "I already got the insides out and took care of the fur. We have someone from Evie's crew working on the hides because they're tough and we can make things with them. Mal has this nifty spell she made up that makes it so we don't have to wait for the meat to get older so it's softer. Usually, you have to wait until after this thing that Evie and Carlos know the word for goes away. It think it starts with an r…"

"Rigor Mortis," Ben supplied.

"Yeah, that's the word!" Gil nodded in approval. "We basically do it piece by piece. I already did the shoulders and that's the easy part, but I'll help you go through the rest. We have people over there with smaller knives who are getting things ready to be smoked or dried or cooked. The important thing over here is to not let it touch the ground and to not shred the meat to bad – oh, have you washed your hands?"

"I haven't," Ben shook his head. "But I will right now." Gil nodded and turned back to the beast. Ben turned away and spotted a line of people rinsing their hands off under a stream of water. He followed them, scrubbed his hands off(they even had soap… in the forest?) and then returned as Gil was handing off a few large pieces of meat to a young girl who'd come to get them.

Gil carefully explained how to trim the fat so that Uma could have the others turn it into soap or use it for whatever else she could find. Then, he guided Ben through the butchering process. Ben never, in a hundred years, had imagined he would be doing this, but decided it was best to consider his life choices when he wasn't holding a very large and heavy knife.

Gil stopped helping him after a while and went to go clean his knife off and get his water bottle, but then he returned and started talking to Ben as Ben worked, occasionally giving advice but mostly telling jokes about Auradon, the villains, and everything else he could think of. It was refreshing – Ben couldn't remember the last time he'd actually laughed with a friend.

"Hey, Ben," Gil started, taking a swig of his water bottle. "Do you know the name of the prize my dad won?"

Ben paused to briefly examine Gil, who was trying his best to not smile as he kept his eyes off his new comrade. "No," He responded slowly. "Does it have anything to do with hunting?"

Gil shrugged. "Depends on your point of view?" He shrugged. "I don't think so."

Ben shook his head. "I give up," He declared. "What was the name of the prize your dad won?"

"The No-Belle prize," Gil responded, snorting a little as he spoke.

Ben burst into laughter – the embarrassing kind where you snort and chortle more than you actually laugh. He turned away from Gil as Gil began to laugh even harder at his embarrassment, and then leaned his head against the tree they'd been working beside. "Oh my gosh," He gasped. "Oh my gosh."

Gil smiled brightly and took another drink before he pointed to the sky. "The sun is going down," He pointed out. "We better finish up soon. Do you have a place to stay? It'd be nice to have a bunkmate. Harry usually hangs with Uma."

"I've been put with Jay and Carlos," Ben explained. "But maybe I'll switch around. I like you a lot."

"Me too," Gil nodded. He got to his feet. "Let me finish up these last little bits. If you take what you've cut up over to Harry and everyone, they can show you how we get things done."

Ben nodded. He would have shaken hands with Gil, but his hands were kinda gory. So instead he laughed and thanked Gil and then took the collection of his work over to the opposite side of the road, where he put it down on a rack, like how he'd seen another young boy do it.

"Well, well, well," Someone drawled over his shoulder. "Wha' a lovely surprise."

Ben turned and found a man's face hovering close to his. He leaned back a little, eyes wide, and the man let out a tiny, barking laugh. "How's it feel being a king now?" He asked, leaning in even more with a crazed glint in his eyes. Then, maniacal laughter spilled from his lips as he retreated, curling his fingers and removing his pirate's hat. His red and white clothes were in tatters and clutched in his left hand was a glinting, slightly dinged pirate's hook.

"Give it a rest, Harry," Uma rolled her eyes, putting a hand on Ben's shoulder as she navigated around him. "He's still new."

"Aye, we nicked him," Harry agreed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "How long d'ya think he'll last?"

Uma laughed. "Evie told us not to scare him off. Honored guest."

At this, Harry's face twisted into something similar to rage, though a strong sense of humor remained trapped underneath his skin. "You said I could hook him!" He declared, brandishing the hook at Ben.

"I said if he didn't do his work," Uma corrected, rolling her eyes. "And you don't need to get all jealous. If anything, he's gonna end up Evie's second." The daughter of the sea witch gave him a cursory glance. "Though he probably wouldn't mind if Mal decided she wanted a partner."

Ben's cheeks burned red. "I'm not here for any relationships," He corrected Uma quickly. "I'll be working with them, and you, but I'm, uh, already spoken for back home."

Uma raised an eyebrow and turned to Harry. "Don't listen to him," She advised. "You should have seen him turn into a fish when he first saw Mal. Even if he is spoken for, it won't last long with her around."

"I'm married," Ben interrupted. He felt around his neck and pulled up a ring on a chain strung about his head. "I don't wear the ring while I travel in case of ambushes but I'm married."

Uma gave the ring a cursory look. She hummed. "Pity for her," She shrugged and then turned around. "Alright, Harry, how much more?"

Ben let the comment slide. True, Mal was lovely, and yes, Evie seemed to be rather offended that he didn't find her equally so, but he was tied to Audrey by law. There would be no ruination of that fact while he remained here.

Uma and Harry wandered away without giving him any more commands, and Ben shifted uncomfortably before glancing down the assembly line. It amazed him how many people there were. Children and teenagers were everywhere, tending to all sorts of different tasks. He noticed that there were fewer of them further down the path, where large drying racks were set up beside fires and a couple of smaller children occasionally turned the meat so it would dry evenly. He headed down that way.

Ben supposed, gauging from the shortage of helpers and the type thereof that this was a task reserved for the small children, but seeing as he'd been given no other orders, he guessed that this would be a good place for him to pitch in until Uma came up with another job.

A bright-eyed little girl with colorful streaks in her brown hair was chatting happily with anyone who dared come too close to her lively spirit. Ben examined her from a distance – the colorful, jeweled headset around her head, the large glasses, and frilly dress. It struck him how alike she and Evie were. He'd assumed all of the people on the Isle simply went around ruining each other's lives over and over again and again, yet it seemed he couldn't have been farther from wrong. These people were creative, dedicated, and happy. Sure, they could all probably kill him and they had all had their fair share of hardships, but they were good. A deep love was taking root in his chest for every single one.

"Can you acquaint me with the process?" He asked cheerfully, stepping up next to the small girl. She looked up at him with a bright, fearless smile. "Of course!" She exclaimed. "We're just rotating everything around every half hour to make sure it dries evenly. And there's a system! Those ones over there will need to be done in five minutes, and then those and those-" She pointed to each of the fires in turn and it occurred to Ben that there were six fires. Clever.

"So, what's your name?" He asked, reaching up and helping her begin unpinning strips of meat. They had a nifty contraption that looked like a giant shelf, but with thin boards that held clothespins to dangle the meat in the smoke and above the flames. There were four to each fire set at equal distances with about two or three hovering around the one he had joined.

"I'm Dizzy," the girl introduced. Ben cast his mind back to his list of villains that he'd memorized at fourteen for his ninth-year history project – she could be the daughter of Doctor Doom or Doctor Doofenshmirtz, but his best guess was Lady Tremaine's granddaughter.

"Drizella's daughter?" He asked to confirm.

Dizzy nodded a little, keeping her mouth closed in an easygoing line. "Yeah," She agreed softly. "What about you? Were you sent to the Isle afterward? You don't seem like someone who was there for very long."

"Neither do you," Ben pointed out, casting his mind back to Mal, Evie, and Uma. "And no, I'm someone Mal picked up on the road yesterday and I've decided to hang out."

Dizzy looked over at him with wide eyes. "Oh!" She gasped and almost dropped the piece of meat she was turning. "You're the king? You're the person who's going to be helping us?"

Ben could blush and stutter out something. Or he could tease her for not knowing him. Neither seemed like the best reaction. So, instead, he stopped and wiped his hands on his pants for a second before he bowed, picking up Dizzy's hand and kissing her knuckles for a few seconds. He could feel eyes boring into his back – maybe Uma, maybe Harry, maybe any number of Islanders. Or maybe Mal. He imagined her green gaze watching him and a smile crooked his mouth as he stood back up. "I'm Ben," he introduced, leaving out the title. It was better without the title. He was more like them without making himself out to be something he had never really been able to play the part of. "Please to meet you, Lady Dizzy,"

"Well, aren't you a charmer?" A sultry voice came from behind him. He glanced over as he straightened up and saw Evie, still in her clothes from earlier, looking a little offended as she watched him release Dizzy's hand. "Where was that chivalry earlier when I was with you?"

Ben's danger sense, however weak it was, started tingling. "I don't usually do that," he admitted with a light blush. "I just thought that… the situation called for it." He wanted to impress the younger girl. He wanted to make her feel special.

"Ah," Evie's lips curled. "I see. You shake hands with me, kiss Dizzy's hand, and get on your knees for Mal."

"I did not-" Ben began before he recalled what she was referring to. He exhaled. "Evie, is it so much of a problem to you if I want to make Dizzy feel special? Could you perhaps be grateful for the way I did act rather than terrorize me for not immediately being smitten?"

Evie flinched and frowned and Dizzy set a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Ben," she consoled him. "Evie and I are like sisters. And she's been through lots. You can take the Isle out of the girl, but you can't take the girl out of the Isle!"

That doesn't stop Evie from turning and striding away.

"I hurt her, didn't I?" Ben whispered as he watched Evie disappear.

"It'll be okay," Dizzy shakes her head. "She's just been clued in to how she's still bending to her mom a little. We all forget; it's hard when we haven't been gone so long yet." She glanced through a rack at Ben. "Her mom used to beat her for every man who didn't stare when she walked past. So she's always tried really hard with people who don't react as quickly. And it doesn't help that you're a King with a big castle." Dizzy paused as she flipped around another strip of venison. "How many rooms in your castle?"

"I, uh…" Ben stuttered, completely thrown off by what Dizzy had revealed to him about Evie. He couldn't imagine being beat because other people didn't look at you as you walked past. "Uh… too many. Too many to count."

Dizzy nodded like this made sense. "Do you think there'd be enough for every one of us to come to live there?" She asked. "I know Evie said that we're going to go build our own place, but I was just wondering."

"I don't think so," Ben replied honestly, looking around at everyone surrounding them. "I wish, though. I'd take you all with me in a heartbeat." Then, he smiled at Dizzy. "Especially you."

"I've always wanted to go to Auradon," Dizzy sighed dramatically. "Do you really have carpets you can walk onto? Have you been to a swimming pool before? What does ice cream taste like?"

Ben stopped and stared at her. There was this horrible building in his chest that felt like he was being filled with hot tar. "Carpets?" He asks weakly. They have carpets everywhere. They have carpet decorations hanging on some of the walls. Little Belle has bright pink carpets that make his head hurt every time he walks in. Audrey has her own thick, plush carpet rug that he's not supposed to touch. And swimming pools… he's taken Belle to the pool more times than he's taken her anywhere else. She doesn't like swimming but he makes sure she goes and that she knows how to swim, no matter how much of a fit she throws. "I, uh, yeah," He agreed softly. "I'll have some carpets sent to you guys when you get things set up. Big ones with fun colors that feel soft. And, uh, yeah, I love swimming. Ice cream… well, there are different flavors, but it's cold and sweet, and if you eat it too fast, then it gives you a headache."

"Really?" Dizzy gasped, eyes growing large and bright in excitement. "I've never had ice cream and most of the carpets are ruined. Cruella De Vil has lots, though, but we're not allowed to touch. Mal once threw a party at Carlos's house and so I got to see them then. And I don't know anyone except for Uma and her pirates who can swim."

"You live on an island," Ben blinked. "You can't swim?"

"There's a barrier," Dizzy shook her head. "Even Evie and Mal can't swim."

The back of Ben's neck grew hot, as if someone was glaring at him from behind. He stored that bit of knowledge about Mal away and then exhaled. "If you can't swim… how did you make it here?" He asked.

"Carlos built boats," Dizzy shrugged. "After he broke the barrier and Mal kept it open for everyone to get out, they put everyone on boats. And Mal cast an invisibility spell so we could cross without Auradon finding out. That's also why Uma was allowed to come."

There was so much information in that sentence that Ben had to stop and stare. Carlos built boats. Carlos broke the barrier. And Mal held it open. Holy crap.

"That's cool," he managed to choke out after a little bit. "And good that you were able to come over. I… wish I'd been able to bring you over myself. I guess I was too busy being king… gosh, that sounds lame." He exhaled and shook his head. "So, what about you? What was your life like?"

"I worked in Grandma's hair shop," Dizzy answered. "I had a few customers… a witch here and there. I mostly did lots of scrubbing and scouring and sweeping. Lots and lots of sweeping."

"Sounds like the old Cinderella treatment," Ben mumbled.

Dizzy's eyes flicked back up through the rack, and then she glanced past Ben as a group of kids ran by screaming. "Yeah," She mumbled. "She went from Wicked Stepmother to Wicked Grandmother."

Ben gestured out to the kids with a thumb. "You want to join them?" He whispered.

Dizzy shook her head. "Not really," She declined. "I know I should, but I'm used to the work. It still feels weird to play."

A little boy that only came up to Ben's knee dashed up and tapped his hand on Ben's thigh. "Diseased," He announced. "You're diseased."

Diseased. Ben glanced up as the group of kids all howled and shrieked at him. He reached over and tapped Dizzy. "Now you're diseased too," He laughed.

"Me? I can't be diseased!" Dizzy stared at him. "Who will tend the fires?"

A man in white and red stepped up out of the shadows that Ben hadn't even realized were falling over the camp. It was Carlos, who had apparently made his way down to Uma's side of the camp. "Go on, Diz," he encouraged her. "You need a break. I'll cover you."

Dizzy hesitated, and Ben took her shoulders and shoved her away. "Go on," He told her. "Go play. You're only a kid once."

The little boy jumped up for Ben's hand. "You too!" He declared, yanking on Ben's fingers.

"I dunno," Ben shook his head. "I've got to help Carlos with the – Woah!" He tripped forward, glimpsing only Jay's long, brown hair as he caught his balance, and then the other diseased kids flooded around him to pull him in as Mal's two associates began finishing the fire he and Dizzy had been on. Dizzy shrieked as she was pulled into the vortex of screaming kids.

Ben laughed as he was pushed to the ground and then started grabbing random children, gathering them into his arms, and tickling their sides mercilessly. He laughed, then let out a little roar that made all the kids scream and giggle. Little ones climbed up onto his back and older children hung off his neck as they tried to team wrestle him to the ground. Some danced out of his reach and pointed their fingers with little shrieks. "Beast!" They cried. "Beast! Beast!"

It appeared word of who he was had gotten around. Ben didn't mind all that much as he picked up one of the smallest children and tossed them, squalling above his head, into the air. More kids gathered around. "Me! Me! Me!" They begged. Others held fast to his back. "Piggy-back ride!" They shrieked.

Instead, Ben reached out to one of the older kids. "Tag!" He yelled. "You're diseased!" Immediately, everyone jumped away, screaming, and took off running as the child tried frantically to tag everyone who dashed past. Ben jumped out of the way and about ten small children and older toddlers ran after him, letting out little yells as they dashed away from the tagger.

The sun went down. Ben did his best to guide the cluster of children away from the fires, but they all slowly dropped out one by one as the sun dipped out of sight and the night grew cool. Some mothers and caregivers called the children for dinner while others went of their own accord. Eventually, Ben was left to pick up three tiny kids who hadn't yet recovered from Isle emaciation and head up to the camp with Dizzy looping her arm through his and resting her head on his biceps. He balanced one kid on each shoulder as they yawned and stuck thumbs into their mouths, and then one six-year-old boy climbed onto his back and burrowed his nose into Ben's shirt as they walked up. The racks were still up, but adults were now switching the meat from side to side as the children all ate and went to sleep. Ben found several clean blankets stacked beside a wooden cart and spread them out, laying each of the three kids comfortably before covering them from the night chill. Dizzy he let use his arm a little longer as she tried to find Evie and then finally set her inside what she said was her cart so she could curl up with a soft sigh on her own blankets.

Ben leaned against a tree and watched as Uma directed for bones to be chopped up for broth to be made with and a large collection of young adults started packing away the jerky venison for the trip. His arms felt a bit sore from playing with all the kids, but he supposed he'd better get used to it. A few days more, and they'd be packing up this small camp and heading west.

He wondered if Audrey had been informed he'd vanished yet.

Someone slinked up through the shadows to him and held out a white plate to him. He took it, curious, and then saw green eyes light up through the dark. His hands went a bit clammy and a deep fire lit in his stomach as he stared at her. Mal.

"Good job tonight," She commended. "That looked absolutely exhausting."

Ben laughed a little, nervously. "What's this?" He asked.

"Dinner," Mal declared, stepping forward and leaning against the tree as well. She was facing the other direction and not nearly close enough for him to touch, but it was still close and he felt his breath hitch. "You missed it, so Uma put that aside for you."

"Ah," Ben nodded, squinting through the dark and then reaching down to feel some jerky and something that felt like a fresh vegetable on the side. "Thank you." It occurred to him that he hadn't eaten all day. "Is it safe?"

Mal burst into laughter, rolling her eyes, and Ben blushed. "Sorry," He apologized. "I didn't mean to accuse or anything."

"No, no," Mal shook her head. "I get it. Be careful of the food offered by kids of villains. I'm sure every kid in Auradon would know that."

"No!" Ben disagreed, snapping a little in his haste to explain himself. "No, that wasn't it at all. I totally trust you!" And to prove this, he reached down and found a piece of the vegetable, quickly raising it to his mouth and biting. Mal watched him with slatted eyes. It was so dark, he could barely tell where her body was, though he knew in the back of his mind what she looked like. Thin and powerful and with calluses and muscle in place of everywhere Audrey had soft skin and plush weight. He remembered, briefly, what it had felt like when he and Audrey had last lain beside each other over two years ago and then pictured Mal lying at his side in his wife's place.

God, was he so twisted that he was replacing Audrey after being away for a day?

'A month,' a voice nagged in his head. 'You haven't seen her for over a month. And she didn't look at you when you went to see her, so she hasn't seen you in longer.'

"I was just joking," she started in a slow tone. "I don't expect you to trust us after knowing us for a day and for, well, everything last night."

Ben blinked back at her and he hoped he could see the honesty in his eyes. "But I do," he replied.

Mal rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe you're a fool after all," She declared, and then pushed off of the tree. "Don't die overnight. Evie's rather fond of you."

"No, she's not, but she thinks I'm fond of you," Ben refuted. His words made Mal stop. She didn't turn to look at him, but he could almost feel her lips press closed.

"Careful, your majesty," she mumbled in a little hiss that had him immediately drawing connections to snakes and lizards and dragons. "Hasn't anybody bothered to warn you yet?"

"Only every person who mentions you," Ben raised an eyebrow. It was dark, but he somehow knew she would know. "It makes me wonder what happened to the last poor fellow?"

Mal snorted a little like he was a small child who'd said something particularly amusing and then walked away, still not looking back at him. He frowned a little and finished his dinner in the dark. Then, minding the ground, he headed back to the fires. In the light of one, Uma and Harry were standing very close, speaking to each other with tiny grins and soft whispers. Uma wrapped her fingers around Harry's hook carefully, and he watched her with a crazed look.

Ben set his plate down with a small stack of others he could vaguely see the outlines of. Uma glanced up at him. "Oh, good, you did get something to eat. I was wondering."

Ben nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Thanks for setting it aside for me."

Harry tilted his head a little and frowned at Ben as Uma's face twisted in confusion. "What?" She asked.

Ben stopped and examined her face. Pure, unabashed loss. She had no clue what she was talking about. "Oh," he shrugged it off. "I must have been misinformed. Pardon me. Well, I'll see you in the morning, then."

He turned and walked away, and Uma did not follow.

He went back up the road and found where Jay, Carlos, and Mal had been before. Jay and Carlos were curled up in their cots in the backs of their carts, and in the middle was a spare one for Ben. He hopped up, pulled his shoes off, and glanced around and up at the stars before noticing the next cart over. It was darkened, but nothing could silence Mal's striking green gaze as she hovered on the edge of the cart, gazing out over the road with her slatted gaze and watching everyone come and go. Watching him, specifically. She was like some emerald-gazed gargoyle, staring down from above.

Ben didn't say anything to her. He had a feeling he'd done enough damage for one day. He pulled up under the blankets and pressed his nose into the pillow, trying to put out the girl next door from his thoughts without forcing his head to acknowledge that there might be a small problem.

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