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twilightsagasworld · 4 years

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Riley Biers x Plus-size Reader

Part 3

Part 2 ; Part 1

word count: 2371

Requested by @fyeahtaylorp

“Carlisle, let me get this straight, Aro, one of the most dangerous vampires in the world,a maniac who has an obsession with power, recruited Riley Biers into his coven, and now Riley’s sent to what? Check up on my Daughter?!”

Bella was going off on poor Carlisle, but I didn’t blame her, I heard stories of the Volturi and the things they’ve done to people, and recently I’ve heard of the almost brawl between the Olympic coven and said Volturi, and how things had almost gotten messy if Alice and Jasper didn’t show up with the other hybrid in time. I hated to think about such terrible things, I never did like fighting of any kind, I tried to avoid it at all costs, I like to think of it as a type of self-preservation, but not completely.

A loud crash rang throughout the room. Great. Bella broke one of Esme’s vases. Edward promptly escorted Bella from the living room. Everyone else stood around awkwardly for a moment while Esme quickly cleaned the mess. Carlisle cleared his throat but Alice let out a small gasp and stared off into nothing. I was a bit on edge, I felt useless and weird to just stand in the living room waiting for nothing, so I plopped down onto a couch and twiddled my thumbs, “Alice” Jasper’s soft voice was almost inaudible as he whispered her name, his hand was on her waist where he caressed it gently. “It’s Riley..he left Italy”, who is Riley? I hadn’t heard anything about him, was he a friend of theirs? No, not if I was going off of Bella’s reaction, Carlisle then asked when he’d be here, “Tomorrow morning, just as the sun starts rising...But that’s all” she leaned more into Jasper, is Riley dangerous? A threat? I feel so confused. Rosalie’s voice sounded mocking when she spoke, “He’s just another one of the Volturi’s dirty dogs, why doesn’t Aro just come here himself?”, good point, Carlisle gave her an apprehensive look, “You know why Rosalie, Aro probably doesn’t think it’s necessary to come himself, he won’t waste his time with such things”, Rosalie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Yeah right, he seemed pretty interested last time, but that’s not my business”, I knew Carlisle was trying to keep calm, “Last time was a totally different story, I believe you do remember” he didn’t wait for her to say something else, “Now, I think we should all try to relax a bit before tomorrow, go out, enjoy yourselves” with that said, he and Esme left through the balcony’s exit, probably to go hunting. Rosalie went her own way while Jasper and Emmett raced each other outside, most likely for a bear wrestling match again, and Alice, she bounced her way over to me, taking her place on the couch beside me. I raised a curious brow in her direction, “You’re awfully springy Alice”. She smiled, leaning in closer to me, she swept the room with her eyes before whispering, “I saw something else (y/n)”, oh, why would Alice be sharing this with me? She seemed to know what I was thinking, “It’s about you” “Me?” “Let me finish” I pouted, fine, Alice gripped my hands gently, her smile widening, “Do you know what a mate is?”, I nodded, Esme had told me not long after I was turned, “Well, your mate just so happens to be Riley...Isn’t it great!”.

“What” I didn’t believe my ears, I frowned , “Alice are you sure? Riley? RIley is my mate?”, she just simply nodded, “But don’t worry, he won’t hurt you (y/n), I’ve-” “Seen it, yeah, great, just great, my mate, who I know nothing about, just so happens to be working for a bunch of sicko vampire overlords who have a creepy obsession with Bella! Oh how wonderful” my head slumped into my hands and I wish I could sigh, my heart would be pounding if it could. I felt Alice rub my back, “Hey, it’s going to work out just fine, you’ll see, but for now” she got up, “I have clothes to re-arrange” and she was gone, I stared after her, she’s just going to leave it there? I get nothing else? No other explanation? Great, yeah, I’m screwed. As much as I wanted to be happy, I couldn’t bring myself to embrace it, Edwardo and Bella are going to rip me a new one, and I didn’t even want to imagine Rosalie’s reaction. I hope everything turns out okay tomorrow. I really do.

Morning couldn’t have come any slower, I spent the whole night sitting on the couch, wandering about everything, no doubt Edward already knew what I knew, but he hadn’t said anything yet, I hope he doesn’t. At least not to Bella.

Everyone gathered around outside, it was very misty and no human would be able to see even 10 feet in front of them. Bella held Renesmee protectively behind herself, the scent of wet dog invaded my senses and I pulled my mouth into a sneer, I was familiar with this wolf’s scent, his name was Jacob, he came around nearly every day to spend time with Renesmee and I could see her smile when she noticed him. Jacob was in his wolf form and stood beside Bella, on her other side was Edward. Alice’s voice broke the silence in the air, “He’s here” , and there, not even 15 feet from me, appeared Riley. I took in Riley’s appearance, he was very attractive, lean but built, like Jasper. He looked wet, did he swim here? From Italy?

“Long time no see, Riley” Edward said, he seemed slightly uncomfortable, Bella looked like she was about to attack at any moment and I just stood beside Emmett shuffling my feet. Riley shrugged, his eyes swept over us, lingering on me for a moment, I felt a tug in my mind, I wanted to be near him, Riley’s face scrunched up in confusion for a moment, he must’ve felt it too, but he shook his head before speaking, “I won’t say I’m happy about it Cullen, but you know why I’m here, where’s the girl” , Jacob stepped forward with a snarl and a loud hiss was shot at him, everyone’s heads turned to me, and I knew that sound was created by me, “Sorry, I don’t know what happened” I said it so soft, it would’ve been missed by any human ears. Emmett let out a whistle but Rosalie shot him a look which shut him up, Carlisle stepped forward and gained everyone’s attention, I felt stupid and embarrassed, “It’s alright (y/n), I’ll explain later,but for now, Bella, if you please” Carlisle held out his hand to Renesmee, and Bella grudgingly stepped out of the way to let her daughter pass, Riley caught my eye for a second before he turned his gaze to Renesmee, he walked forward, not at all bothered by Jacob’s low growl, and he knelt down in front of her, he looked her over, she was a head taller than him now, “How much longer before she’s fully mature?”, Bella answered, “Three years”, Renesmee looked about fifteen , Riley nodded, “Her diet so far? How has her hunger and thirst been?”, “She feeds more on animals than human food, she’s had no problems switching between the two and her thirst is under control” another nod from Riley. I watched Renesmee closely, she seemed perfectly comfortable with Riley, I wonder why.

I think everyone found it weird when she all of a sudden placed her hand on RIley’s cheek, Riley flinched back, causing Jacob to become aggrivated and step forward, this caused me step forward as well, “Back off dog” I let out a growl, even in his wolf form I could notice the sudden taken aback look, “Jacob, (y/n), back off and calm down” Carlisle turned to Riley who was watching me, I huffed and did as I was told, but kept my eyes on Jacob, “Riley, don’t worry, it’s how Renesmee communicates, through physical touch”, Riley gave a slow cautious move forward again, “...Alright...”, Renesmee gave him a small smile before placing her hand on his cheek, Riley froze the instant her hand made contact with his skin, she must be talking to him, or showing him her memories, I don’t know how her abilities work honestly, I don’t think I ever will.

The tension in the air seemed to fade slightly when Renesmee pulled her hand away and Riley stood up and...Laughed? What? Bella shot forward and pinned Riley to a tree by his neck, “What’s so funny?!” Riley never got a chance to answer because I tackled Bella to the ground the next instant, “Don’t..Touch..him” I don’t know what came over me, was it the pull form earlier? Or was it because Riley is supposed to be my mate? I felt a wave of calm wash over me and two pairs of arms pull me up and away from Bella, I looked at Jasper, who was holding my right arm, he nodded his head, “Easy there” , i looked to my left to see Emmett who gave me a knowing smirk, I scoffed, “Go eat shi-” “”That’s enough, I believe we can discuss this inside, if you would” Carlisle motioned for Riley to follow him into the house, Edward had helped Bella up and they were already inside as well as Alice, Rosalie and Esme. Emmett told Jasper to head on in while he talked to me. Emmett crossed his arms, wiggling his eyebrows, “So, you found yourself a mate” I nodded, Emmett let out a laugh and ruffled my hair, “That’s awesome (y/n)!” I brushed his hands away, “No, Emmett! Bella’s going to rip me a new one!” Emmett shrugged, “Nah, she’ll get over it, she has to eventually” Emmett pulled me inside, I wish I was as carefree as him.

Inside, Carlisle was already explaining some things to Riley, I held my distance and chose to sit on the kitchen counter instead, everyone was scattered between the living area and the kitchen. “...We’ll give you some privacy, but don’t try anything”. Riley appeared in the kitchen. It was only the two of us now. Yay. Neither of us said a word, we just stared at each other, we were both probably taking everything in from what happened inside. It was I who broke the sience, “So,uhm, Riley...You swam here?” Riley raised a brow, “Yeah, I guess, it’s the fastest way here from Italy” I nodded biting my lip, “So...(y/n)...You liking the weather?”, I chuckled, “You’re asking me about the weather?” , Riley offered a small smile, “Yeah, I guess I am”, I shake my head and look out the large window before looking back at him, “I prefer the cold rainy days above the heat, of course I can’t really be affected by it either way now, but you catch my drift...” I hope., Riley took a tentative step forward and I hopped off the counter, we were two feet apart now, Riley stood a head taller than me, “How did you end up with the Volturi? If you don’t mind me asking”, he explained that after the battle with Victoria and the newborn Army, Edward had spared his life and Riley spent one year in hiding from anyone, but the Volturi had discovered his scent and had tracked him down, at first they were going to kill him, but Aro was intrigued by his ability to sense whether someone was lying to him, so he asked Riley to join his coven in Italy, and now, a month later, here he was, in the house of his newfly found mate and running errands for the Volturi.

It was long since past noon and the sky was darkening, Riley and I had gotton on great after the initial awkwardness faded, and turns out we had a lot in common. Riley had asked me what it was with the whole golden eye thing and I explained to him that it was as a result of the animal diet we were all on, Riley found it interesting since all he’s known was human blood, but I offered to take him out hunting later that night, and then he could experience it himself, he agreed and we talked some more. I learnt that he was turned at nineteen and he was manipulated by Victoria to create a newborn army, but recently he’s been taking his vampire life easy, he didn’t hate anyone, but he did really miss his parents, and he knows he can’t visit them because they think he’s dead and Aro would kill them. In turn I shared my story with him, and he was pleased to know I was only a year younger than him, well, used to be a year younger in human terms anyway. We were generally just really enjoying the other’s company and we never left the each other’s side at all.

But the next morning Riley had to leave, I felt dour, I just met my mate, and now he was already being taken away from me. It seemed unfair, but I didn’t let it show on my face, but that didn’t keep Edward fro reading my thoughts and shooting me glares which I kindly returned, he’s such a stupid shiny volvo owner.

It wasn’t raining today, which was great since it wouldn’t be intensifying the stench that was Jacob Black, he was in his human form today. I had apologised to him last night about almost attacking him and he was fine with it, I hadn’t apologised to Bella yet though.

Everyone was once again outside, Carlisle had written a note for Riley to give to Aro, it was details about Renesmee. Bella and Edward didn’t really say much, but Bella did say sorry to Riley for basically strangling him which he accepted. I hugged him, we were the perfect fit for each other. “Goodbye for now Riley, I hope we see each other soon”,Riley held up his hand and stuck out his pinky while he smirked, “Pinky promise” I grinned, interlocking our pinky fingers, “Pinky promise”

And then he was gone.

#Riley biers x reader #riley biers #riley needs more love in twilight #Twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #twilight #the twilight saga #twilight renaissance #vampire #twilight requests #plus size reader

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missmeela · 3 years

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The Gambler (Part Six)

Prompt 12: Free Day - Link to master post

Late afternoon. Lene sat at the card table in the bar, waiting. Eventually, Teon arrived, still looking a little glum. Lene smiled brightly and gave him a wave from her seat.

"Hey there, stranger. You look a little worse for wear. How about you come and sit with me?"

Teon plodded over and dropped down into the chair to the right of Lene.

"You may think this is just from a hangover. But you'd only be half right about that. You see, I'm a little low on funds, so I've got to be all business tonight."

Lene hummed softly and reached over to adjust his hat.

"Are you alright? Nothing bad has happened, has it?"

Teon shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's merely a temporary position. I just need a few brash drunks with too much gil in their pockets, then I'll be all straight."

Lene touched the back of his hand and nodded.

"Okay, I'll keep you company then. I'll be sure to keep you on track, especially after what happened last night."

"Yeah, about that. I don't... Well, I think I had a little too much. I don't remember too much of it all that clearly."

Lene grinned back at Teon and flicked her hair back.

"Maybe that's what you get from drinking too much whisky. I can't have you falling asleep on me again. Look, how about this guy? He looks ripe for the taking."

Teon looked over at the man coming into the bar. He did give off that certain air of having more money than sense. But he was cautious; it could all be part of an act. Teon was going to let him head to the bar to get a better feel for him first, maybe get a few drinks in him, when Lene called out.

"Hey, you. You over there in the red. Can you play cards? This guy has been boasting about how he's the best poker player in all of the city, and I think it's high time someone took him down a peg or two."

As an opening gambit, it wasn't a bad one. Teon looked over to Lene with surprise, and she gave him a subtle wink in return.

Over the subsequent series of games, Teon managed to make enough to pay off his loan and still have a little to spare. Lene turned out to be great for bringing in new players. She even sat in on a few hands herself to add to the distraction.

By the end of the night, Teon could see why they had trouble paying attention to the game.

"You know, Lene, I could walk you home if you like. The streets aren't a good place for a woman on her own at this sort of time."

Lene smiled and collected up her things to go.

"Well, okay. So long as you're not expecting anything to come of it."

"Expecting? No. But I feel like I owe you this, at least. And I'd certainly feel better about seeing you home safely."

Lene beckoned Teon to follow her out.

"I said okay, didn't I?"

Teon hurridly gathered up his things and offered up his elbow, which Lene took.

"It's not far, which is a good thing because I don't always have a handsome man to walk me home."

True to her word, it wasn’t so far. Once they arrived at her place, Teon looked up at the dark building.

"I could come inside, just to make sure you get into bed safely."

Lene laughed and gave him a playful push.

"You may have been playing your cards right against all those men, but you haven't gotten me beat just yet."

Teon pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket and waved them about.

"So, how about we do that now? High card wins. If I win, I come in, and you fix me up a cup of coffee. If you win, I go home with my tail between my legs, and I bring you over a bunch of flowers tomorrow."

Lene looked at the deck of cards, thinking that over.

"An honest draw, no cheating?"

Teon held his hand over his heart.

"Would I ever?"

Lene smiled and cut the deck. She looked at the card and then showed it to Teon.

"A Queen. Are you sure you haven't got any aces up your sleeve?"

Teon shook his head and cut the deck himself. A nine. He turned it to show Lene and gave her a shrug.

"Can't win them all, I suppose."

Lene leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"We'll see how you do again tomorrow. And don't think that I will forget about those flowers. I'll expect to see them with you when I see you next. Goodnight, Teon. Thank you for walking me home."

Teon tipped his hat to Lene and gave her a nod.

"And I thank you for the company too. Sleep well."

She disappeared behind the door, and Teon started off down the street back to his place. It looked like his luck was turning around, even if that last draw didn't go his way.

At least it looked that way until he rounded the next corner and nearly bumped into a large Roegadyn wearing a brightly polished suit of armour.

"You, you fuck. You owe me six grand."

Teon backed up slowly, holding his hands up.

"Now, now, my good man. That was all an honest game. You gambled, and the luck of the cards just wasn't with you."

The Roegadyn grabbed his collar and yanked him forwards. He banged a hand against his breastplate and shook Teon.

"You were looking at my cards in this. You're a damned cheat."

Teon held up his hands in protest.

"You can hardly blame me for that. If you were playing with your cards face up, would you not expect me to look?"

The Roegadyn grabbed Teon's neck now and added some pressure.

"Make that twelve grand. You're not leaving here until I get what I'm owed."

Teon tapped on the hand at his throat as he turned a deep shade of red.

"Well, you see, I don't quite have that much right now. Not even six. I could maybe see my way to giving you two?"

The Roegadyn drew his sword and pointed it at Teon's belly.

"It's twelve, right now. Or I'm doing what someone should have done long ago and put a filthy cheat like you in the ground."

Teon shook his head.

"I don't have it. Besides, you're bluffing. You're not going to kill me over such a small sum, surely?"

The Roegadyn threw Teon down to the ground and stood on his chest.

"You don't think? Then you have no clue who I am."

It was true; Teon really didn't know who he was. Just another guy he had taken money off of at the poker table. He struggled underneath the weight of the Roegadyns foot as the blade approached his throat.

"Okay, okay! I can get you your money. I know a few guys, I'm sure between them, they'd loan me twelve grand. I mean, what's such a little amount between friends?"

The Roegadyn spat in Teon's face and pushed his boot down harder.

"Fuck it, I've changed my mind. I'd pay that much to see that you never robbed anyone again. Death is what you deserve. Not to be a leech on countless others."

Teon grasped at the ground, trying to get out from under the Roegadyn's weight. The Roegadyn raised up his blade; this looked like it would be the end for Teon. Maybe it would be Lene bringing him flowers instead. Like they always say, if you cast the die enough times, eventually, you'll lose.

Then suddenly, the Roegadyn topped over backwards and clattered to the floor in an awkward heap. A hand came down towards Teon, offering to help him up. He grasped it without hesitation and was pulled to his feet. He was met with the face of the thief from the morning as his unlikely saviour. Teon looked down at the Roegadyn lying on the ground; his throat was cut.

"You killed him."

"Yeah, and he was about to do the same to you."

Teon clasped his hand and shook it heartily.

"You do have my thanks, but I need to ask why you'd help me like that. This is going to cause a whole lot of trouble for someone."

The thief smiled and turned to leave.

"You may be a bit of an asshole. But he seemed like a real nasty bastard. I've got to say, a belly full of food does wonders for my compassion towards folks such as yourself."

Teon reached into his pocket and drew out his winning for the night.

"No, you saved my life. I feel like you've earned this."

The thief waved his hand at the gil.

"You already paid up in advance. Besides, the gil you gave me was enough to pay for a ticket out of this place. I'm heading West, where the hunting is still good. You bought me a path back to an honest life. That's more than anyone has done for me in a long time."

The thief looked up and down the street to see if they had been seen.

"Well, an honest life starting from tomorrow. You should get yourself home. It would be better if neither of us was found here. There would be too many questions to answer."

He darted off into the blackness of the night and left Teon standing there a bit bemused. Teon took one last look at the Roegadyn and then hurried back to his place. Okay, he hadn't killed anyone, but he still didn't want to be drawn in on how he knew the victim.

Tomorrow was a new day with fresh beginnings, and Teon found himself lucky enough to see it.

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite

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wlsonsaraharchive · 3 years

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❛ HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY! ❜

WHEN: May 9th WHERE: Delacroix, Louisiana CHARACTER(S) MENTIONED: Bucky, Sam, Aaliyah, AJ, and Cass TRIGGER WARNINGS: None, aside from general Mother’s Day things for those who have asked for those sorts of things to be tagged.

❛Aye, keep it down. Y'all are gonna' wake her up with all that ruckus.❜ Sam's voice pipes up in the kitchen, where there is a lot going on. He's put the old record player to use, the sounds of "Trouble Man" by Marvin Gaye drifts through the house as everyone is enjoying the early hours of the morning. The kids are still tired, but they wanted to wake up early enough to put together breakfast for Sarah. She deserved to have a day off every once in awhile, so why not now of all days? With Sam and Bucky helping Captain the metaphorical ship, everyone had a hand in helping out. Though, some of them kept stealing bits of food here and there. Who could blame them? ❛I come up hard, baby, I had to fight. Took care of my business with all my might. I come up hard, I had to win. Then start all over and win again. I come up hard, but that's okay. 'Cause trouble man don't get in my way.❜ Aaliyah and Sam sing along to the music as the chorus rolls around, both of them dancing around and even bumping hips with one another. Laughter spilling from the pair a moment later as they set back to work once more. Aaliyah has been given the task of making pancakes, putting their artistic skills to good use. Pancakes created in different shapes and patterns, even some in shapes of different Avengers. They're proud of their handiwork, flipping the final pancake onto the stack that piles up on a plate on the counter. Meanwhile, Bucky is situated at the kitchen table. He's glaring daggers at the macaroni art in front of him. It was supposed to be a macaroni necklace, one that was supposed to match the macaroni bracelet that AJ had made for Sarah. But, it really just looked like a cluster of macaroni glued together haphazardly. ❛That's not how you're supposed to do it.❜ AJ's voice pipes up behind him, causing Bucky to turn towards the young child with a frown. ❛Yeah, I know, kiddo. I just don't know where I went wrong.❜ AJ settles down at the table beside Bucky, having finished up his duties of helping grab clean dishes from the cabinet. He wasn't allowed to do much in terms of cooking, so they gave him the easiest task possible. With a gentle sigh, Bucky turns towards AJ. ❛Do you think I can fix this?❜ AJ frowns slightly, picking up the still drying bundle of glue and macaroni. He shakes his head, tossing the mess into the trashcan not too far from him. Taking a seat back into the chair, he glances at Bucky. ❛Don't worry, we can just start over. We have a lotta' time before she wakes up... I think.❜ AJ wastes little time in helping Bucky out with the necklace. Soon, they're focused on their own conversation, one where AJ is carefully instructing Bucky on the proper way to glue the pieces together onto the thick strands of yarn they had used to make the necklace. In the end, they had come out with a colorful macaroni necklace. ❛Hey, look! This one turned out a lot better. Next time, you just ask the pro.❜ AJ nudges Bucky with his elbow, to which Bucky responds by tugging him into his arm to nuzzle his flesh fist against his head in a noogie. Breakfast had been taken care of, though the mess left behind would have to be cleaned up later. Meanwhile, Sarah had finally awaken from her slumber. One hand reached over to check the time on her digital alarm clock. ❛Eleven o'clock? I know I told 'em to let me sleep in today. But, boy... This is out of my comfort zone.❜ She stretches carefully, gentle yawn falling from her lips as toes stretch and parts of her body crack to release the tension. A gentle hum of appreciation falling from her lips as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. She's awake and ready to start the day, even if she wasn't doing too much working today. That was the whole point of the day, to take time off and really relax, while everyone else handled things. That was a task easier said than done when it came to Sarah. ❛She's awake. How much longer do we need?❜ Bucky pipes up from his spot downstairs, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. Perks of being a Super Soldier meant that a lot of his senses were farther enhanced than that of a normal human. ❛Just getting everything plated up and put on a tray. Go distract her or somethin'.❜ Sam grumbles gently, much to Bucky's amusement as he shuffles up the stairs to check on Sarah. He carefully picks at dried glue from his fingers and hands, leaving no trace of evidence, before he knocks carefully. Only after Sarah responds, does he carefully and slowly enter the room. ❛Good morning, sleepyhead. How'd you sleep?❜ His words are soft and gentle, as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed beside her. ❛Mm, good morning. I slept pretty well, never slept in this late before. Though, I gotta' admit, it was well worth it.❜ She grins cheekily, glancing up at him through sleepy eyes. Even now, in her sleepy and half-awake stupor, Bucky thinks she's the prettiest thing ever. He leans down to steal a gentle kiss from her, one that she meets him halfway for. A gentle hum falling into the kiss on her end, laughter following in its wake. ❛You sure do know how to wake a girl up.❜ She plants another kiss onto his lips, just as someone knocks soundly on the door. Bucky rolls his eyes, easily identifying that the knock belonged to none other than Sam. A moment later, the door is shoved open as the rest of the household spills into the room. ❛Surprise! Happy Mother's Day!❜ The four of them wear matching toothy grins as Aaliyah walks in with the tray full of food. Sarah sits up against the pillows, which are carefully fluffed by AJ and Cass, who go all out to ensure their mother is comfortable. Aaliyah and Sarah share a tight hug, before Sam follows behind with a hug of his own. Leaving a sloppy cheek smooch for his sister in the end. Much to Sarah's chagrin as face scrunches up in distaste. ❛Ugh, you know I hate when you do that!❜ She calls out, wiping at her cheek before surveying the food before her. ❛Would you look at that? Looks like you guys went all out on breakfast, huh?❜ She shoots a glance towards everyone in the room before AJ hops up and down. ❛Oh, oh! I wasn't allowed to cook anything because I'm still too little. But, I helped put everything on the plate!❜ AJ's excitement is palpable, something that causes Sarah's smile to turn into a full blown grin. ❛Oh, honey. Thank you so much. Mama loves it, it's perfect.❜ She plants a smooch atop his head, tugging Cass into the hug as well. Kisses for both of her favorite boys before she allows them to run off to go back to bed or to simply enjoy their breakfast together. With the youngest two of the bunch out of sight, it's Sarah's turn to appreciate her newest child. The oldest of the trio of children. Though, Aaliyah was no mere child. In fact, Aaliyah was an adult. But, that didn't make them any less Sarah's child. ❛Thank you for all of this, Li-Li'. Really, it's delicious.❜ Sarah's taking a long sip from her apple juice, only after a mouthful of a pancake in the shape of Sam's shield. Aaliyah leans over, presses a kiss to the crown of Sarah's head with all the warmth and tenderness. It fills Sarah with pure pride and joy that Aaliyah had warmed up to the family. The two share a brief moment together, before Aaliyah is chasing after the two youngest boys who make a beeline downstairs. Sam and Bucky both left chuckling as Sarah glances towards her brother. ❛Have I mentioned that you're the best big brother ever? Seriously, words alone could never say how thankful I am for you. Thank you, Sammy. For everything.❜ Sam rolls his eyes, shoving her lightly as she bites into a piece of bacon. ❛Don't go gettin' all sappy on me, lady. You deserve this. Enjoy it while you can.❜ He squeezes her softly, before leaving her alone with Bucky as he heads downstairs as well. ❛Happy Mother's Day, Sarah.❜ Bucky leans over, a lingering kiss stolen on his end this time. One that Sarah leans into happily. She adores him so much, they both decided to take a leap into their relationship. Both decided to adopt Aaliyah together just a few short months ago. Sam may have found him to be annoying at times, but Sam truly did care for Bucky. He was cautious of their relationship at first, Sarah had already been put into harms way because of Sam once before. Now, add in that of the man who was once known as The Winter Soldier. It was just asking for trouble that much more. But, Sam knew Bucky would keep his family safe when he couldn't. ❛Thanks, B'. I appreciate it. Truly. You hungry? I've got enough food here to feed a village.❜ Laughter spills from her lips as he settles into bed beside her. The pair sharing what remained on the tray together in comfortable silence. After much needed naps for everyone who had been on early morning duty, it was finally time to unveil the presents each of them had gotten or made for Sarah. Each bag and gift opened carefully and full of love and warmth. The first gift had been from Sam, two roundtrip tickets to Hawaii, with all expenses paid and a resort room ready to book whenever she was ready. A gift he decided to give her because she deserved a proper vacation, where Sam would stay behind to take care of the rest of the family. The second present had been from Aaliyah, a gift certificate to the local spa in New Orleans. Something that Sarah would be putting to good use soon enough. Finally, what appeared to be the final gift was from Cass. A picture frame with the word family burned into the wood in multiple languages. Inside the picture frame was a photo of all of them, Sam and Aaliyah, AJ and Cass, Bucky and Sarah. They say the best kind of family are the unexpected ones. The dysfunctional ones. The ones so full of tender love and care that it almost hurts to breathe. This was Sarah's family through and through. She loved each and every single one of them with every single inch of her. Perhaps even more, if that were even possible. ❛Wait, wait, wait!❜ AJ came huffing and puffing from running up and down the stairs a few times already. Inside his hands was a box as he took a moment to catch his breath. He took a puff or two from his inhaler, waving a hand slightly. ❛This one-- This one is the last one!❜ He walked over, carefully handing the box over to Sarah who carefully unwrapped and opened it. ❛This one is from me and Bucky! Do you like it?❜ AJ glances at Sarah with a slight look of concern on his face. Sarah taking her time to appreciate the gift thoughtfully. ❛Do I like it?❜ She pauses just briefly, carefully pulling on the macaroni bracelet and necklace. She smiles fondly, glancing towards Bucky and AJ who stand a few feet away. ❛I love it! Thank you so much. These are all the best gifts a lady could ever ask for.❜ She pulls all of them in for the biggest and tightest group hug she could possibly manage. Pouring out every ounce of love and affection and warmth she could spill into each and every single one of them. There was never enough love to spill for her family. Never enough words to tell them how much they truly meant to her. But, she cherished them all with every fiber of her being and she truly hoped that they knew that.

#drabbles tbt #tw mother's day #mother's day tw

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

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mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 1

1. you look like my next mistake

Summary: You’re Douglas Booth’s adopted little sister, a YouTuber moonlighting as an assistant on The Dirt. The fact that your brother’s the lead is a happy accident. Another happy accident? Getting drunk with MGK and becoming fast friends with him. Until, of course, everyone assumes you’re together. What better way to make everyone shut up then by agreeing. Sort of. Okay so you’re not really dating but you’ve got to convince your respective fans that you are. And the rest of the cast and crew. It’s okay, flirting is totally harmless. The feelings? Everything else that comes after? Less harmless.

A/N: we meant to be a much different, much shorter fic for @kellysimagines, but i hope you like it!! fake dating AU. reader is adopted, not blood related!! warnings for drunken-ness.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @siriuslymooned @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples

----

The fact that you and your brother ended up working on the same project was purely coincidence, and that actually wasn’t a lie. Douglas had landed the role of a lifetime, Nikki Sixx in The Dirt, and was immediately up to his eyes in nondisclosure agreements. You, on the other hand, had been scrolling through Facebook when a friend of yours, Josy, who happened to be an assistant director who had been talking about a ‘huge project for Netflix she wasn’t allowed to discuss’ asked if you wanted to come onboard as her assistant, since you’d proven to be good under pressure and fast on your feet when she had still been filming student projects only a few years ago.

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today is a ‘Get Ready With Me’ for my flight to New Orleans! Can you believe it? I’m working on a big project and I have to travel - they’re paying for my travel! I’m so excited! This is going to be such a fun project, even though I can’t tell you too much about it just yet. So to start with, I’m going to run you through my every-day shower routing.”

You hadn’t been at the table read, but you had been at rehearsals, had turned up on the first day looking all done up, excited and professional, only to be met with your brother in eyeliner.

“Duck!” Of course he was elated to see you, grin splitting his face from ear to ear. He calls you by your childhood nickname, he always has, and already you can feel every pair of eyes on you, but you don’t care. The nickname had followed you through life, of course less than a day in the project and it was already spreading.

Everything making sense after you mention Josy had gotten you the job. She was a mutual friend, had always been fond of the two of you.

“This,” you enthuse, clutching your clipboard to your chest, “this is what you’re doing? You’re doing the Motley Crue biopic?” You’re looking at him with stars in your eyes, your talented big brother, who seemed to bring you along for the ride in one way or another.

And finally he can tell you about it, because damn it had felt like forever since the two of you had spoken simply because he’d been hiding the biggest news in his life from you.

“Oi, Booths!” You hear Josy’s distinct voice the moment she steps in the rehearsal room, though she’s clearly smiling, “good to see you both, but Doug, I need you up and in the space; I’m running warm ups before we get started. Duck, could you go on a coffee run for me?” She asks it sweetly; she’d picked up the nickname for you years ago from Douglas, and of course it had stuck, not that you minded. With that you’re both off.

You’d been so distracted by getting to talk to your brother, who had been early just as you had been - there’s something to be said for nature versus nurture, despite not sharing genetics, you certainly shared a sense of punctuality - that you hadn’t even seemed to notice the rest of the cast getting in. But they’re not your job; you just have to keep Josy happy, get her food and drinks when she requested it, and type out emails she dictates. Easy.

Of course this isn’t how things stay; you’re in close proximity to the cast for at least five hours a day, in a corner somewhere working on your own emails or scrolling through Twitter when you weren’t needed, but always around. For the first few days, no-one pays you much attention.

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! It’s my first week with The Project, and I’ve finally got a day off; it’s Sunday so I’m dragging my brother to a whole bunch of places you lovely people have recommended for me! Wish us luck!”

You’ve been in front of a camera for about as long as Douglas has, though never quite in the same way. You’d tried your hand at all sorts of jobs, both in the entertainment industry, and not, and while you enjoyed the entertainment industry well enough, you found that you had a passion for making your own videos. Your YouTube channel, which was almost at a million followers, had been going strong for almost four years, as you made videos about the lesser known roles in the industry. Sometimes your brother was in your videos, but often he wasn’t, and you felt lucky that you never really needed to use him for clout. He was just Doug, and your followers knew that if he was in a video, it’s because he wanted to be, but he wasn’t the reason the video was being made.

Douglas was nothing if not supportive, and when Sunday rolls around and when production gave you and the main cast the day off, while the second unit team worked with some of the secondary characters, you were both more than happy to take advantage of the freedom.

“Dude I have such a long list of places we could go, I don’t even know where to begin - haven’t you been here before?” You pressed the phone to your ear, frowning at the two outfits you had laid out on the bed before you.

“Yeah, for like,” Douglas hums at the other end of the line, “like press things, and like a week and a half for some Jupiter Ascending stuff-”

“Did that even make it -?”

“No, it got cut -” somewhere behind him, the milk frother of a coffee machine squeals, and someone’s indistinct name is called.

“Get me a drink,” you tell him, instinctively.

“Get one yourself!” He half laughs, and you hear him cover the receiver and muffle his thanks as he presumably picks up his drink.

“Who are you talking to?” When he uncovers the phone, you can hear another familiar voice; it’s Colson, you’re pretty sure. You know him from rehearsals, and a bit from his music, but not much beyond that.

“My sister,” Douglas offers, flatly, to which you make a noise of indignance.

“Ask him if he’s ever been to New Orleans -” you instruct, putting the phone on speaker and opting to change into your more practical jeans and sweater option.

“She wants to know if you’ve ever been to New Orleans -” He relays easily, and you hear a snort of laughter.

“Of course I have.” You hear Colson say.

“Of course he has -” Douglas tells you, as if worried that you hadn’t heard.

“Ask him -” You begin, but you’re cut off.

“We’re across the road,” Douglas tells you, and you know without having to see him that he’s rolling his eyes at you. Audi ambassador, philanthropist, movie star, and occasional model Douglas Booth had the composure of a saint for everyone but you, though neither of you would have it any other way, “just come over here yourself.”

“Get me a drink?” You asked hopefully, and you heard him sigh, knowing you’d already won.

Your favourite drink is waiting for you when you arrive, as are both Douglas, and Colson, sitting hunched over in a booth with dark glasses. You can’t help but chuckle.

“Booths in a booth.” You mutter, and at least that gets their attention. Sliding in next to Douglas, you make eye contact with Colson as he lowers his glasses and frowns at you, just a little, as you sip your drink.

He looks between the two of you for a moment; you don’t share a whole heap of similarities with him, but after a beat, he nods, and gives you a curious look.

“Alright, good to meet you,” he paused, narrowed his eyes for a moment, “you’re part of the crew, aren’t you?” Is what he focuses on.

“Assistant to the AD,” you nod, before adding, “Duck, you might know me as Duck,” and that he seems to recognise at least. Colson hums thoughtfully, nodding and sliding his glasses back up his nose as he leans back against the seat. Drinking your drink with a surprising focus, you hand over your list of recommended places to Douglas, who nods approvingly, but quickly turns it over to Colson. He makes short work of it, crosses quite a few spots off, adds a few of his own, and takes pause to look up from it.

“Why are we going all over town? Why not just like... chill and maybe go over lines and shit? Isn’t that what we’re meant to do?”

“Didn’t take you for the cautious type,” you tell him with a teasing edge to your voice. Colson fixes you with a half-smile, handing the phone back pointedly.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to narc on me if we start at bourbon street and spend our precious Sunday getting drunk in The Big Easy,” he matches your tone, sitting back with a posture so relaxed it’s almost scripted, and you’re pretty sure you like his nerve.

“I’m...” you hesitate a little, “a YouTuber,” and though Colson winces a little, it still stings. With so much stigma surrounding your profession, even in 2018, it’s hard to explain to people what you do for a living and not receive criticism.

“So you’re gonna catch all the stupid shit we do on camera?” He asks, and oh, so that’s what he’s worried about. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

“If you don’t wanna be in it, then you don’t have to be; anyways, I’ll edit out all the bits that break our NDAs,” shrugging, you shoot for casual, and Colson looks like he’s actually weighing up his options.

“You still haven’t told him you’re not a narc,” Douglas stage whispers to you, which makes your expression sour and Colson laugh.

“You’re a narc,” you hiss back, reflexively.

“We’re method acting,” Douglas offers, aiming for that same casual confidence that Colson was exuding, but not quite getting there.

“Fuck yeah, dude, that’s the spirit,” Colson’s expression breaks out into a grin, and he offers Douglas a fist bump, which your brother gladly returns. Then Colson’s looking back at you, bright and excited rather than judgmental; “you in?”

“We’ve gained a newcomer! A tour guide, if you will, Mister-” and you turn where you’re filming yourself and the two men beside you, the camera shaking in your grip as you head down the street, and your voice lowers, “what do you want me to introduce you as-” but he buts you off, moves around Douglas, who’s laughing quietly to himself, and grabs the camera.

“It’s MGK, motherfuckers! We ‘bout to hit Bourbon Street - we’ll bookend this shit; open with it and close with it, we’ll be back here tonight!” He sticks his tongue out, and throws out the devil sign with his hands, before turning the camera to catch Douglas laughing, and you looking both excited and concerned.

“We will?”

When you ask about Daniel and Iwan, the other two members of the film’s Motley Crue, all you get is vague answers; in time, they’ll all come to be good friends, but it’s their first Sunday off, and no-one begrudges them for them choosing to take time for themselves. Douglas and Colson, however, had decided early on to try and make their friendship both on and off screen as authentic as possible.

“Fuck, man, Tommy’s like, opening line in the book is that he and Nikki were like an old married couple, for like twenty years, dude, that kind of connection is insane!” Colson is nothing if not good casting, waxing poetic at a diner he’d spotted around midday, your little group already tipsy and hungry since your less than substantial cafe breakfast.

“I give this bacon and egg roll,” Douglas is in his own little world, only aware that you had your camera pointing at him as he devoured his lunch with a surprisingly messy gusto, “four-and-a-half out of five cups.” He announced with a mouth full of food, using the rating system you’d devised earlier in the day. After a moment, he swallowed, before turning to Colson, expression serious, “I’ve known you for about a week, and as much as I like you, I don’t think I want to marry you.”

“No, that’s the thing, man, twenty years is a long-ass time to know someone; I just, man, by the end of this, we are gonna be tight, okay? That’s all I want. Bros, you know?” And he wrapped his arms around Douglas, pulling him in for a hug, and your brother nodded seriously, wrapping his arm around Colson in return.

“Bros.” He confirmed, giving the camera a very pointed look. You make sure the camera catches when you flip him off. All it does is set off all three of you laughing.

It’s an incredibly fun day, the three of you traipsing around, visiting sound studios and memorials and sites that paid homage to the great city you found yourselves in. You know you shouldn’t be surprised, but Colson’s rather reverential when it comes to the history of music, and when you look back at your list, you see the sites he’s added all have to do with it. Honestly, you’re a little endeared. It’s also a fun night, the parts of it you can remember, stumbling, leaning on one another. There’s bound to be something about it in the gossip rags in the following days, not that the three of you were badly behaved, just that they had both stopped caring about avoiding paparazzi, and, alright, being a little bit raucous.

In bed by two, you know you’re gonna have a killer hang over for your nine-am start, but it was a fun night, and you’re looking forward to reviewing your footage.

“I give this bourbon from - hey, where’s this bourbon from?” You turn to look over your shoulder, and the cup in your hand slops over with drink, splashing out onto the street, not that you notice. Douglas is talking to someone running a stall, but Colson joins you, wrapping an arm around you.

“We give this bourbon a cup out of cup,” he announces, and you nod seriously.

“Cup out of cup.” You agree, and lift up the cup, before an idea lights up your face. “Drink it with me, like same cup, try and drink it with me.” It’s a terrible idea, your cheeks pressed together, tongues out as if it would help you drink better -

“You guys look like incredibly stupid,” Douglas calls out from out of frame, finally noticing the two of you. You go to respond, but that’s when Colson tips up the cup and it manages to hit neither of your mouths, instead it splashes against where your cheeks were pressed together, and all down your clothes. “Told you.” Douglas adds.

Colson licks the bourbon from your cheek with a grin, but moves on quickly. You look around shiftily once the boys had left, still holding the camera with one hand, and you pull the hem of your shirt to your mouth, sucking liquor from it as you follow behind them wearing a pleased little smile.

Honestly, things get more lively in more ways than one, after that. Now that Colson knows you, it seems the rest of the cast do too. Slowly but surely you’re developing a friendship with both Iwan and Daniel, though Colson’s been surprisingly quick to treat you like an old friend.

“Trial by fireball whiskey,” is what he tells you after rehearsals one Saturday night. You’re doing a dinner run, picking up pizzas before the four of them go out, with you as their chaperone, as directed by Josy.

“Speaking of,” though you can’t help but grin a little at the fact that you’d earned his favour so easily, “I’ve almost finished the video.”

“Oh God,” he groans, laughs, and covers his face with his hands, “do I even wanna see it?”

“It’s not that damning, I promise, I need to stay monetized, you know?” You laugh, but it’s a sad truth you’ve had to deal with a lot since choosing to become a YouTuber.

“I’m not exactly PG-13,” Colson’s smirking when you look at him, and his gaze meets yours and what does that tone mean and why are you reading into this all of a sudden.

“So I suppose you were on your best behavior that night?” You ask, voice innocent, though you can feel yourself getting flustered. His smirk grows wider.

“Only for Douglas’ sake.”

And then your name’s called for the pizzas and the mood vanishes and Colson just asks if you can send him a link when you put up the video; you tell him you can send him it before it’s published, just to make sure he’s happy with it, and he gives you this genuine smile that you feel warm your heart, just a little.

But it’s when you publish the video that all hell breaks loose.

Having a famous brother is one thing. Having a famous brother is allowed. Knowing someone famous is clout chasing, is gold digging, is not allowed according to the internet. Making someone famous laugh is downright illegal, surely he can do better than you. Because with the views come assumptions, and your burgeoning crush aside, they’re baseless. You’ve known him for three weeks. Twenty one and a half days in total. Flirting aside, the internet doesn’t know shit.

It still hurts.

The video kind of blows up, because everyone loves relatively harmless drunk celebrity shenanigans, and Colson’s kind of been blowing up recently between his music, and his upcoming film Bird Box. So now there’s invasive questions and death threats filling up your DMs on every platform, and along with a new influx of followers comes a new wave of toxicity. You know how to deal with people accusing you of using your brother for clout, but this is a whole other level.

“So you’re with Colson,” Douglas looks smug when you answer your door on the day after the video drops. Though quick to defend yourself, there’s already tears in your eyes having had little sleep from the stress of everything that had happened, his smug aura drops and he wraps you up in a hug. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” his voice is soothing and level as he walks you back into your room, closing your door.

“You’re an ass,” you tell him, sulkily, but you hug him back.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you in earnest.

“I’m gonna get fired-”

“You’re not gonna get fired, Duck, you didn’t break your NDA, you didn’t break YouTube’s terms of service, you bleeped out all the swearing, you had an alcohol disclaimer at the start; this is the fans and the media blowing things way out of proportion.” He assures as you sniffle, still hugging him tightly.

“They’re gonna fire me,” you murmur, voice a soft, sad whine.

“They’re not.”

This is the point at which your phone starts to go off; someone’s calling you, and the caller ID says it’s Colson. He must have just woken up.

“He okay-ed the video, didn’t he?” Douglas asks, and you nod. “Then he won’t be mad; he’s dealt with this shit more than us, you know?” He gently pushes you towards the phone where it’s sitting on your bed, and steps back. “I’m gonna give you and your boyfriend some space,” and it’s teasing again, his grin sharp as he ducks out of the way of the pillow you throw.

“Asshole!” You yell after him. Once’s he’s out of the room, however, you take a moment to compose yourself before picking up the phone.

“Hey, I’m so sorry -” you start, but Colson seems surprised to hear your apology.

“Nah, Ducky, don’t worry about it, I called to apologise to you; if I’m ever seen with a chick everyone thinks I’m dating her, I should have realised, I should have -”

“No, I mean, I can’t post a video with a guy who’s not my brother without five different tea channels claiming I’m in love,” you laugh, trying to hide your distress. An awkward silence follows, in which you sniffle, and reopen your laptop.

“I am really sorry,” Colson says, and there’s regret in his voice that you hadn’t expected. “If I could get them to all shut the fuck up, I would; you shouldn’t be all torn up over my shit.”

Something about what he says plays in your mind over the next few days, watching, subdued in rehearsals. The rest of the cast ask if your alright, sympathizes with you, all of them having had run-ins with the media in one way or another. Josy, in her own way, sympathizes too, in that she doesn’t treat you any differently, she doesn’t pity you. She, like you, like all of you, knows it will blow over. Probably.

“Hello,” your tone is so damn subdued, “hello and welcome back. I’m here today to address some rumours you may have heard. To all my new ducklings, hello. And to all my old, hello again.”

“They’re not gonna believe you if you deny it,” is how you greet Colson, barging into his room after rehearsals on a Wednesday. It had been a good day, things had calmed down somewhat online, but still gossip rags were still going hard, seeing as the paparazzi had managed to spot the two of you together during a break in rehearsals.

“Yeah, no, they generally don’t,” he says flatly, frowning a little as he closes the door, running with whatever train of thought you were on.

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Deny it.”

Silence.

“Are you asking me out?” He actually wears a little smile at that, but you fix him with a serious look, not even a hint of a joke in your tone or expression.

“Yes, because we’re twelve,” you rolled your eyes, tone so flat it’s almost comical, before you snap “- fucking no I’m not asking you out -” the thought had crossed your mind several times before shit had hit the fan, but there was no way in hell he’d genuinely want you now; you both came with a mob of crazed fans, and a sweet, if fake relationship with an amicable end would be far easier to manage than crazed rumors, “I’m fake asking you out. If you’d have me, I want to date you to get our fans to calm down.”

“How?!” He splutters, both confused and overwhelmingly amused. “That’d never work.”

“If we tell them we’re together, and we’re both working on projects, the industry won’t see either of as distracted by outside sources; we talk up how we’re supporting one another through this process, and that if our fans ever wanted what’s best for us, they’d support us too.”

“You’d...” he swallows hard, though he’s certainly contemplating the thought, “you’d still get death threats, you know that-”

“I get death threats when I don’t post feet pics;” you snorted dismissively, and his eyebrows rose, “I can handle them, but if you said this made you happy, well I think a majority of your fans would calm down. Stan-culture is weird and frightening, but a lot of them, most of them,” you corrected yourself, “want what’s best for you.”

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” And he’s smiling now, watching you with something that almost resembles admiration in his eyes.

“Tell me you haven’t had a hundred tweets yelling about how you’ve corrupted me,” you cock your hip, and he casts a glance to his phone, before admitting he has, “well if I go back to posting non-drunk content with you in it, they’ll die down, I guarantee it.”

“What about your brother?”

“He’ll support me no matter what, it’ll be more believable if he, you know, believes it.” You hold out your hand, waiting. There’s an almost intimidating spark in your eyes, a focus that Colson hasn’t seen before. “Are you in?”

“Yeah, fuck it, why not,” and he shakes your hand, firm, grinning brightly.

“I’m here to address some rumours regarding my...” you took a deep breath, “boyfriend.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #colson baker #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #douglas booth #douglas booth imagine #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #the dirt image #the angry lizard writes

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noddytheornithopod · 3 years

Text

Okay, now that I’ve gotten all the Bad Batch controversies out of the way... I can finally talk about the actual damn episode properly.

Like I said on my whitewashing post, overall I liked it, but I am kinda hesitant for reasons I explained there. I now want to focus on the actual story itself on its terms, and see how I feel about that. Apologies if I jump all over the place.

Probably my biggest issue narrative wise was that I felt some of the stuff around Crosshair was a bit contrived. Like, I was fine with him going full GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS and all that, my issue is that I feel like the others took a while to realise he was following Order 66. Like, Tech even says he can’t be certain their mutations entirely screwed up their programming, with the camera even cutting to Crosshair. And like, before that Crosshair is berating Hunter for letting Caleb escape. When Tech said what he did, I feel like Hunter should’ve probably said something like “that must be why Crosshair tried to kill the Jedi”. Granted, it probably would’ve then led to questions like why Crosshair’s genetics let his chip work and not the others (something that isn’t answered, but it’s not something I felt that needed to, different genetics affect things in different ways we can’t always predict), but like, when they’re on Onderon and Crosshair’s like “yeah let’s shoot literal child refugees”, I feel like they shouldn’t have just conflicted with him, they should’ve outright wondered if he was falling for his programming. It doesn’t break the episode for me and I guess they probably just assumed Crosshair was being his usual dickish self, but I guess that also is a reminder that this is the second time we’ve seen him, so we don’t know if he’d normally be up for killing innocents if a mission requires it (since TBB are still given missions, their thing is they just do them the wrong way). It’s just like, you’d think at least Tech would make some comment about it. As Saw said, he’s supposed to be the smart one lol.

On the topic of inhibitor chips, I was surprised that Crosshair’s was only partly working. I guess it’s because he still had a level of personality to him? The more you know, I guess.

I do think the Bad Batch work better here as many have said, I guess probably because they’re the focus of the story so they have more room to show who they are and nuances to that. My favourite is probably Tech, I tend to gravitate to the nerd characters in things. Shame he has to look so fucking white for being a clone of a brown man though. :/ Kinda like Wrecker too, even with the issues HE has too. Great, even in my main comments my issues with them are popping up. :v

On that note... I do appreciate the idea behind the Bad Batch, being clones who turned out different and it’s about accepting and embracing your differences. It’s just in execution, it’s a bit of a mixed bag. Like, it could be a commentary on things like ableism, but thing is, these characters are basically superpowered (if people weren’t fixated on bashing women they don’t like and were equal in their vitriol, you could EASILY call the Bad Batch a bunch of Gary Stus). It’s one of those things where a sci-fi/fantasy allegory is well intentioned but because of things that don’t apply to our reality, the allegory kinda falls apart. Like yes, “be nice to people different to you” is one thing, but it does lowkey feel a bit like “they’re judged because they’re better than everyone else, those stinkin regs are just jealous”. Well no jealousy is shown in the episode, in fact a normal clone calls them defects... which is weird because even if yes TECHNICALLY they are, they’re basically presented as turning out different, but those differences are things that are beneficial to them, and not impairments. I guess I feel like the message would be stronger if they actually had major weaknesses, aka why they’re “defective”, but their strengths are something they excel at so much they’re allowed to serve (which I GUESS was the idea, but we don’t know what made them defective originally and what got their mutations enhanced). And yes, you can infer things like Wrecker being “dumb” (which has its own issues, and even then he’s still competent enough on a battlefield, honestly he might even be more just impatient and impulsive and thus can’t sit still to learn more complex things), but yeah. It’s kind of a mixed message here, I appreciate what they’re going for, but like many fictional allegories, it kinda falls apart and it’s also presented in a very individualistic way.

Okay let me say something positive: AZI-3 IS BACK! I assume he got memory wiped so he wouldn’t have any memory of Fives, but I really liked him in the Order 66 arc of The Clone Wars so I was happy to see him again. Well, until he was hit with that stun blast. I hope he’s okay and able to be repaired!

Echo’s attack with his probe arm thing is pretty cool. It was also cool seeing how he was integrating into the Bad Batch. I also theorised he was most likely to be immune to the inhibitor chip out of the group, because while I felt the Kaminoans wouldn’t overlook inhibitor chips in even mutated clones (they do explain that they kept them around because they were always successful at what they do despite their unorthodox tactics), I had a feeling that the Techno Union putting all those cybernetics in his head maybe screwed with or even removed the chips. Get the poor guy some skin colour though.

I have also seen some people bring up the potential issue of ableism with Echo given he’s an amputee with prosthetics, but I don’t have much to comment on in that regard. But yeah, using disabled bodies for shock value and it being seen as a measure of humanity like in The Bad Batch arc of TCW is a trope I could really do without.

I’m liking Omega so far. She’s definitely got a different vibe to other kid characters we’ve gotten in these shows, probably because she was raised on Kamino. Also appreciate that her voice actor is New Zealander too (she’s not Maori which would’ve been the ideal, but was born to Indonesian Chinese parents). Her curiosity makes a lot of sense, she’s not just mischievous because kid. Was nice to see Hunter open up to her too.

I’m intrigued to see where they take Crosshair. IDK why his genetics allowed his chip to still work, but it’s nice to see at least one of the Bad Batch follow Order 66. I guess they decided against it for more (as much as I’d liked to have seen it) because Order 66 doesn’t just make clones decide to kill Jedi, it basically removes any level of humanity and personality they may have developed and makes them basically stormtroopers. That, and well they want our heroes of the show to be the Bad Batch, and that can’t work if they’re now the goody two shoes batch.

On the topic of Crosshair, my favourite scene in the episode was actually when Omega talks to him. She tries to empathise with him, and whether she’s just naturally intuitive or is Force sensitive in some way, she can tell that Crosshair despite everything seems to be struggling, and it’s ultimately beyond his control that he’s like this now. And then he’s off to get his chip working at full capacity and is now a full on Imperial, RIP.

Also yeah, I’m on team “Omega is Force sensitive”. It’s possible she just has some heightened abilities because she’s an enhanced clone, but the way they framed her firing the blaster especially just screamed Force sensitivity to me.

On the topic of inhibitor chips, Crosshair proves that it’s possible to make them stronger, so it does potentially mean that if members of the Bad Batch are captured, their chips could be dialed up to make them loyal Imperials. I guess one could also wonder if they could be slow for the effects to come into play for some of them, so some maybe slowly turn later on? I doubt they will go that route because they probably want to keep all our heroes around, but it’s something, especially if they eventually conclude they have to remove their chips to be safe.

Seeing Saw in the first episode was surprising but also pretty cool, especially with how the model is transitioning from his Clone Wars appearance into Forrest Whittaker. Love how he sees right through Palpatine’s bullshit, especially when he makes that jab at Tech that seems to be a bit of a blow to his ego, lol. Some have wondered why he’s so chill here, but you have to remember this is early days Saw. He’s still cautious, but he’s not paranoid and overly violent. The way some of those refugees reacted to the clones does make it seem like there’s already Imperial forces occupying Onderon (well, they’re literally out in the forest at a camp). Mainly bring that up because I have to wonder how much time has passed, and how quickly Imperial forces showed up to Onderon.

Seeing Tarkin be a dick is always glorious. He just goes everywhere and KNOWS he’s in charge, lol. It was also interesting how even if he’s feeling like he’s ready to abandon clone forces, he sees potential with Clone Force 99 if they can follow Imperial doctrine.

The Kaminoans also seem distrustful of the Empire, not because they’re against it but because they want to keep their current deal. Maybe if Tarkin heard them out the Empire would have a better army, lol. Taun We from AOTC even cameoes. I do wonder what’s eventually going to happen though, given the clones are obviously abandoned in the end, I wonder how the Kaminoans are going to take it.

Also, Nala Se is back. Yeah, THAT Nala Se. Wonder what she’s doing with Omega as her medical assistant, lol. Oh yeah, she also stopped the doors and let the Bad Batch escape. I have no idea what she’s planning, but I feel like she’s being shady, given not only the Fives stuff but also because despite having a fondness for Omega she does seem like she’s very controlling of her (after all, she’s just property to her), hence why Omega wants to get out and be with the Bad Batch.

Okay, I think that’s everything I wanted to say? But yeah, have a lot of reservations, but still curious to see where this goes despite that.

#tbb spoilers #sw spoilers #the bad batch #star wars

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mingjue · 4 years

Note

chuyao prompt um 👁️👁️ sharing a bed / falling asleep together on the couch?

i accidentally deleted the first version and im beyond pissed but here we go

word count: 2,978ao3 link: here :)

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

The day was a bit odd. At least to Lu Yao.

Normally, when Chuseng came over directly, especially holding a bunch of different files-- and returning to his car to get even more files, it was for a case. A case that Lu Yao would be told about pretty much immediately, and if Youning was there, she’d tell them what she knew before scrambling off to get even more information.

But today, Chuseng and Youning have purposely got him to keep out of the house, and they won’t tell him a single thing about . . . well whatever they’re doing.

“Go watch a movie or something!” Youning had huffed out, hurriedly giving him a handful of coins, “Or eat! I don’t know-- but we can’t have you in the house for a few hours.” That was the first thing he was told as soon as he got dressed. Of all days to plan on making breakfast at home.

He couldn’t reject money though.

So, Lu Yao stuffed the coins into his pocket and simply walked to the closest diner he could find. He stayed for about an hour and a half, scarfing down what food he got, getting more, and talking to the staff about pointless things. But then he got bored.

He took detours around the neighborhood, chatted with vendors he ran into, or anyone familiar to him . . . basically anything to stretch out the time before he got home. He ended up only being gone for two hours. But whatever, he wanted to know what was going on anyways.

The minute he walked into his apartment though, he was greeted with a pillow to his face.

“Go away!” Youning said, hurriedly getting up from her seat on the ground. Lu Yao scoffed after straightening up from his startle.

“I’ve been gone for two hours! Am I not allowed to stay in my own home?”

“Not for another two hours!” Youning picked up the pillow and hit him with it again-- and in retaliation he began wrestling it from her grip.

“Why not, huh?!”

“It’s a secret!”

“Since when are we keeping secrets?” Lu Yao let go of the pillow right as Youning pulled back, letting her fall back onto the loveseat. She landed with a small yelp, then let out an aggravated huff. He glanced at Chuseng.

Papers piled up on the coffee table, along with a couple of empty glasses, an opened package of cookies, pens . . .

Lu Yao stepped towards the table and snatched one of the fancier looking ones. He brought it up to his face and began turning it over in his fingers, looking at the gold trim and dark blue cap.

“Lu Yao,” Chuseng hummed before he could say anything, “If I let you have that pen, will you steer clear of the living room?” Lu Yao tilted his head in thought.

“Maybe.”

The two looked at each other. Youning groaned.

“You already have my other pen,” Chuseng said.

“I do,” Lu Yao said, “It’s run out of ink though, and the tip broke, so . . .”

“I’ll get you an ink cartridge for the other pen and pay for the repair, now go, San-Tu.”

Lu Yao grinned, which got a smile pulling at Chuseng’s lips, then hurried to his side of the apartment when Youning threw the pillow again. This time she missed.

Lu Yao managed to busy himself all the way until nightfall. And Chuseng was still sitting at the table. Youning was still here, but talking quietly in the phone-- which was the only thing keeping him from yelling out in annoyance.

“When am I getting my living room back?” Lu Yao hissed, stomping over to Chuseng, “And when are you going home?” Chuseng briefly glanced up at Lu Yao before closing the file he had been writing in, then starting to straighten out the table. Now that Lu Yao got a closer look at him, he looked pissed. He took a cautious step back.

“I’m staying until we get what we’re looking for,” Chuseng replied, voice quiet. The annoyance on his words were thick, “It may be another few hours, Youning is trying to get information from some of her people, and I still haven’t heard from mine.”

“Then let me help!”

“No, Lu Yao,” His voice was louder than anticipated, making Lu Yao blink, and Youning stammer in her conversation. Chuseng glanced between the table and Youning, “Not for this case, you can’t get involved in any way.” He continued to pick up the files and paperwork, stacking them to the side.

Lu Yao frowned a bit, “Is it mafia work?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Chuseng.”

“Damn it--” Chuseng dropped his hands on the table, “Just go, please!” Lu Yao almost flinched, then pulled back when Chuseng lifted himself up from the ground. He only went to sit on the couch, “Unless you want to talk to Mr. Bai about it personally, just let me and Youning handle this.” His voice dipped back down to just above a whisper as he spoke, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

In fact, he was a little hurt. Lu Yao bit into his cheek and furrowed his brows.

“Fine then,” He paused, “Can I at least cook something?”

“Yeah,” Chuseng ran his hands through his hair, “Go ahead,” Lu Yao nodded, but before he could get too far, Chuseng added a quick, “Sorry.”

The next time Lu Yao came into the living room, it was almost three am.

Earlier, Youning came into his room to inform him Chuseng was staying since it had gotten so late, and promptly snatched a pair of his pajama pants for him. Whatever.

What he didn’t expect though was to see Chuseng just sitting at their kitchen table, staring off at nothing, literally in the dark. He hovered at the doorway to his side of the apartment, blinking.

“Chuseng?” He said quietly. The man addressed looked over at him, then raised his brows just in the slightest.

“Hey,” He replied simply.

“What are you doing?” He asked, walking into the living room. He turned on one of the lamps, making Chuseng squint, “You okay?”

“Oh,” An awkward pause, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just can’t sleep.”

Lu Yao hummed and nodded, heading towards the kitchen.

“Why are you up?” Chuseng adds, turning his head to watch him. Lu Yao shrugged, and as he passed Chuseng, kept himself from lingering too long at his side. Chuseng was only wearing a tanktop with the blue pajama bottoms-- and the scars on his back caught his eye just for a second.

“Getting a drink,” He said that with a yawn starting at the end of his words, “You look so scary sitting in the dark like that.” Lu Yao opened one of the cabinets and got a glass out, turning to the sink to fill it with water as Chuseng chuckled.

“Sorry,” Another pause between the both of them, “. . . And sorry again, for earlier.”

“Huh?” Lu Yao grunted and brought the glass to his face, turning off the sink. He sipped at the water.

“For yelling at you.”

“You didn’t yell.”

“It felt like I did.”

Lu Yao went to the table and sat in the seat next to Chuseng, “Don’t worry about it,” He shrugged, “Didn’t bother me anyways,” Chuseng opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it, glancing away. Lu Yao took another sip from his glass.

Another bout of quiet between them. Chuseng leaned back into his chair with a sigh.

“. . . Is this new er-- case? I guess, bothering you?” Lu Yao asked hesitantly. There had to be something going on, for Chuseng to have gotten so worked up about it earlier. He looked at Lu Yao, obviously hesitating himself.

“It’s . . . hard to explain,” Chuseng began carefully, “It’s related to that, but it’s something else too.” Lu Yao nodded, the glass in hand now setting on the table while he toyed with the rim of it.

“I know you don’t want me knowing about it,” He stifled his yawn the best he could but pretty much failed, then quite awkwardly added, “But-- I am here for you. If you need someone to talk to, you know,” Chuseng laughed gently, a smile finally breaking through, “Hey-- don’t laugh, I’m not used to you telling me to go away for cases!”

Chuseng shook his head, “You’re fine, San-Tu.” Lu Yao huffed.

In his mild embarrassment, he grabbed the glass again and took another gulp-- and somehow that’s when exhaustion began pulling at his eyes. He ignored it, just for a second.

“Hey, Chuseng,” He set the glass down and slid it away from him, making Chuseng raise a brow, “Can I get a hint?”

“A hint?”

“Yeah, a hint,” Lu Yao leaned onto the table with his elbows, “About what you and Youning are dealing with right now.”

Chuseng stared at Lu Yao for a second before crossing his arms.

“Go to bed, you need sleep.”

“What? No!” Lu Yao said, “Just a hint!”

He rolled his eyes with another sigh, “Will you go to bed if I give you one?” He stammered briefly, “And not bring the topic up again?” Lu Yao tilted his head, but nodded, “. . . No, never mind.”

“Chuseng!” He whined, falling back into his chair, “It can’t be that bad!”

“It is that bad.”

“Tell me what it is, then!” Lu Yao looked at Chuseng with a pout, which got a small hum of amusement from him, “I don’t like that you two are hiding whatever this is from me-- if it’s dangerous I want to be able to help.”

“I really wish you could help,” Chuseng slowly got up from his seat, “But it would put you in danger, is that a good enough hint?”

“No!” Lu Yao scoffed, “I’m not moving until you give me an actual hint.”

“I wish you would get an actual hint,” Chuseng muttered-- Lu Yao furrowed his brows in confusion, standing with him, following him when he began to walk off.

“What does that mean?” Lu Yao jabbed at Chuseng’s back, making him flinch and turn towards him, “Hey! What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, nothing,” He raised his hands in defeat, “Just go to bed, San-Tu.”

“There would be no point in that,” Lu Yao said, “I would just sit there awake because you won’t tell me what’s going on,” Chuseng shook his head and turned away, heading to the couch, “What if one of you die or get severely injured, and it’s something I could’ve helped prevent, huh? I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me something.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“What?” Lu Yao stumbled a bit.

“To your room, come on,” Chuseng turned back to him and gently gripped his arm, “You need to sleep.”

“What?” He repeated, dumbly, “You do too, Inspector.” Chuseng glanced at him.

“I’ll sleep once you’re asleep.”

Lu Yao whined, but let himself get dragged to his room.

As soon as Lu Yao hit the bed, his exhaustion came back to him all at once. He blinked heavily, trying to wake himself up a bit, to no avail.

“Chuseng,” He said, “I’m not going to sleep if you’re just standing there watching me.” That was a bit of a lie. He could honestly fall asleep right now, whether Chuseng was standing near him or not. He was tired.

“I’ll go sit then.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“No.”

Chuseng went to the small couches set in front of his bed, sitting down-- then leaning over to the table to grab one of the books.

“Don’t just sit there either,” Lu Yao scooted up on the bed to pout at Chuseng again.

“What do you want me to do, then?” Chuseng opened the book and flipped through a few pages, “Need me to sit next to you?”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on and then go away,” Lu Yao said, a bit of a playful tone on his words.

“Ouch,” He continued to read, not saying anything else.

Lu Yao pouted again, exaggerating it when he noticed Chuseng peak at him from the book. Chuseng was biting back a smile.

“Come here,” Lu Yao finally said. He sat up further and patted the space in front of him. Chuseng closed the book and tossed it back onto the table, standing from the couch. He did as told and came to sit in front of Lu Yao, with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the bed.

“What?”

Lu Yao looked at him for a second. He genuinely was worried. He was almost scared, even, if whatever the situation was about was really connected to the mob. The fact that not even Chuseng was telling him about it was what worried him most.

“You’d tell me if you or Youning were in danger, right?” Lu Yao asked quietly. Chuseng had a gentle look pull over his expression, but he didn’t look him in the eye.

“. . . I would--” Lu Yao felt he was lying, but telling the truth at the same time, “--but it isn’t her or me that I’m worried about.” Chuseng set his hand on Lu Yao’s shin, as his feet were just at his knee, patting him.

“Who are you worried about then?”

“You.”

It set heavy in the air for a moment. Chuseng had looked up at him, and they held that eye contact for a few, long seconds. Lu Yao fiddled with the collar of his robe almost nervously. He finally pulled his eyes from Chuseng.

“Am I . . . in danger?” He felt childish hearing himself speak, but it was clear he was unsettled.

“We don’t know yet,” Chuseng’s voice dropped to just barely above a whisper, and he dropped his gaze as well, “I’m doing everything I can to make sure no one touches you,” His hand stopped, now resting on top of his leg, “We want everything to be low-profile. They’re going to be pissed enough that Youning is involved, I don’t know what they’d do if they found out you were too.”

“. . . Who’s ‘they’, Chuseng?” He looked at him.

Chuseng didn’t meet his gaze, he only shook his head. Lu Yao furrowed his brows and looked down at his hands-- still fiddling with his robe.

Eventually, in their now tense silence, Lu Yao slid back down on the bed, raising his knees when Chuseng got in the way. The second the man began to get up, Lu Yao grunted.

“Lay down,” He said. Chuseng looked at him.

“Hm?”

“Lay down,” He repeated, “Please.” He started kicking up the blankets from underneath him, leaving the blankets down next to him as he brought his side up to his chest.

“You’re not gonna get kidnapped during the night, I promise,” Chuseng had a small smile on his face.

“Well, I don’t know that!” He huffed, Chuseng snorted, “You’re so ominous about it, maybe there’s someone in here with us right now and they’re just waiting for me to fall asleep!” It broke into a quiet laugh.

“I’ll protect you, Yaoyao, don’t worry,” Chuseng said, and while he spoke, he climbed over to the empty side of the bed and laid down. Lu Yao helped him with pulling the covers over him, which earned another huff of amusement, even when Lu Yao jabbed his side for the nickname.

Then, once the two settled, Lu Yao fell asleep surprisingly quick.

The next time Lu Yao woke up, the sun was just barely grazing the horizon. At first, he had woken up thirsty again-- and hungry, but what kept him from getting up was an unfamiliar weight on him.

He looked down, blinking in confusion when he saw an arm wrapped around him. And of course, he felt the warmth on his back, someones breath on his neck. It didn’t irk him any, he was just confused as to why it was happening. Then it hit him.

Chuseng was holding him.

Heat immediately hit his face, burning his cheeks and the back of his neck. Why was he holding him? It didn’t feel bad-- he was actually quite comfortable, but he was confused. Did Chuseng just . . . do this with friends? Lu Yao held back a scoff. And sat there.

A giddy feeling gripped him, even if he was just staring straight at the wall with his hand hovering close to where Chuseng’s set. This felt surreal.

He was pulled out of his short trance when Chuseng cleared his throat and nuzzled against the back of his neck-- making Lu Yao instinctively pull up his shoulders at the touch. It didn’t seem to bother him. He slowly relaxed. His hand settled on top of Chuseng’s. Chuseng sighed through his nose.

He stayed like that for a few moments, the pad of his thumb rubbing along his hand.

Lu Yao breathed in deeply after a while. He wanted to turn around-- so he did. Chuseng lifted his arm, but didn’t seem to really wake up, and set it back on him when he settled. When he did, he had his face resting against Chuseng’s chest, hand shyly placed on his side.

When he realized he could feel, and hear, Chuseng’s heartbeat, that’s when it really settled that this was happening. Lu Yao toyed at his bottom lip with his teeth, finally forcing his eyes closed-- right as Chuseng moved his head to rest on top of his.

He slowly began dozing off again at this. Even if his mind was still rushing at the fact he’s being held for the first time in literal years, the comfort he felt from it just made him want to sleep.

As Lu Yao really began to fall asleep though, he felt a hand slowly rubbing his back, and a kiss being pressed on the top of his head.

#Asks #My Roommate Is A Detective #Qiao Chuseng #Lu Yao #Chuyao #My Writing #hi. i did this in one sitting. no edits or anything this is what you're getting #weiwxn

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astrologysvt · 4 years

Text

Chart First Impressions: Jihoon

For more SVT astrology posts, follow my blog! Check out my masterlist to see all the readings I’ve done so far and what I’ve got coming up! 💫

This is just a very general reading of the member’s charts — the parts that popped out to me, things I personally liked, things I thought were interesting or contrary to the image I have of them. I’m not looking at anything in particular with each reading. Some of their readings may be more aspect focused, where some may just focus solely on their personal planets and their signs. If you have any questions on specific aspects or want to request a more specific reading, feel free to send me an ask!

ugh jihoon you stress me out

so here is the huge astrology debate on whether or not cusps actually exist. can we technically be both signs?

i feel like recently the consensus seems to be that no, cusps definitely do not exist.

yet at the same time, you pick up any astrology text and often times they’ll include cusps in some what shape or form.

the way i do readings i really only take a cusp into account if 1) i don’t know the birth time or 2) it’s relevant to that specific reading.

even then, i don’t particularly view them as “cusps” more as just acknowledging that either or could be an option.

to me, even if you are born just a minute before the sun enters another sign, your natal chart will tell you the one definitive sun sign you were born under.

if you relate to traits of the sign you’re technically a cusp of, there is more than likely other, more specific influences in your chart that you can attribute that to.

not only that, but many people believe that the influences of the sign are the strongest towards the cusp. for that reason, if i know the birth time, i really don’t give them much thought.

so that’s my stance, generally.

but we dooon’t knooooow woozi’s birth time which makes things much more complicated.

we’re also dealing with two signs (sag/scorpio) that can kind of present themselves very similarly???

they’re both very straight forward people, sag for the sake of simplicity and honesty and scorpio for the sake of brevity and impact.

they’re both very take it or leave it signs as scorpios simply wont tolerate what they don’t like, and sagittarians are very quick to move on from unwanted situations as they’re good at redirecting their attention.

so this kind of muddles how i would categorize what i’d say are jihoon’s identifying personality traits for being this very candid, decisive guy.

not only that, but he’s got a lot of fire in his chart to begin with that makes it hard to discern whether it’s his sun that’s contributing to those energies or not.

the sun went into sag at 9:50 am on his birthday exactly so now we just gotta sit and wait and hope that someone asks him what time he was born and he somehow knows.

i really go between the two, but I feel like recently i’m leaning more towards thinking he’s a scorpio.

he’s certainly a fiery guy and I see that in his humor, creativity, and how active he is.

his sag mercury can make someone very antsy like gemini placements can, and his aries moon is constantly looking for new ways to release all that pent up aries energy.

so it could be those energies that i’m reading that could be mistaken as being a sagittarius sun.

it’s also hard because he’s said before that he likes his job as an idol because he gets to do a bunch of different things from composition, singing, dancing etc. etc.

having a sag in mercury could still make this true if he were a scorpio, especially since mercury would directly correlate this energy with his hobbies/interests.

with that being said, that sentiment in and of itself is a huge sag sun identifier.

but if we look at him as though he’s a sag, i hit three walls that really prevent me from believing it fully:

1) with a sag sun, aries moon, sag mercury -- that’d make him a super impulsive and hot-headed dude. his ability to to get distracted would be unmatched and these placements in particular are infamous for starting projects out of passion and then dropping them the moment they get bored.

not to say that this is the one definitive trait all sagittarians must have and if you don’t have it ur kicked out of the sagittarius club, but it just doesn’t sound like him.

sagittarians can easily get caught up in these big projects and surely enjoy them as they are out of passion, but the moment you introduce a sense of responsibility/work/obligation, it takes away that bit of passion that allowed them to work so diligently without thought.

it makes them overly aware of the energy they’re exerting and the freedom they’re compromising on, and without a lot of time and growth, a lot of young sags may deem it not worth it. again, the situation wouldn’t be helped with an aries moon either.

because of that his energies read too stubborn and enduring to match what i would typically associate with his chart.

i know a lot of really successful sagittarians, but their journey to success wasn’t nearly as steady and unrelenting as the path jihoon has taken with seventeen where it’s been work, work, work, work.

not only that, but he really doesn’t have a whole lot of aspects that may contradict this flightiness.

his saturn IS well aspected, but keep in mind his saturn is in aries which could add a sense of difficulty in asserting himself in a path his sag sun and aries moon may have felt restricted by.

with this placement you are pairing this super high-initiative, go-getting sign with a planet that’s incredibly cautious and calculated so they doubt themselves a lot and generally feel pretty inhibited.

it certainly bodes well for success in the long run as they learn to balance these energies and let their confidence and competence stand for themselves, but him having been so young at the start of his career it doesn’t 100% add up for me.

the only other aspect that may counteract this is his virgo mars that has a very similar antsy energy but directs it in the complete opposite direction his sag sun/aries moon naturally leans towards.

he’d want to take all of his fidgety energies and put it into his work and this could certainly make him a workaholic, but that wouldn’t particularly nullify the fact his sag sun may want still to apply that to a bunch of different things without restriction.

it’s certainly possible that he’s a sag sun and still achieved these things, i just think he’d struggle a lot more in his position in his career if not for a (supposed) scorpio sun.

without a scorpio sun i think he would have gotten too antsy and too unhappy in a career that is as all-consuming as the one he’s in, and his aries saturn would have more than likely gotten a lot more trigger happy at some point and would have taken his sag sun/aries moon cue to dip when it felt the most overwhelming.

whereas a scorpio would feel comfortable and would even thrive in these circumstances.

2) he’s too shy. his personal planets, as they are (except maybe that virgo mars), don’t just have extravert tendencies, they’re KNOWN for being extraverts.

life of the party guys who NEED attention and communication.

again, i think jihoon is much more outgoing than his image connotes, but he’s certainly not what i’d associate with a sag sun, aries moon, sag mercury, libra venus.

like if i think about those signs and jihoon i laugh a little. if his sun his definitely in sag then my god his houses must really offset his other placements.

but this is what leads me to believe that there’s a wall/blockage preventing these energies from manifesting how i’d expect in a sag sun.

a scorpio sun would make him more reserved, more secretive, more calculating while maintaining those talkative and energetic woozi-energies.

3) sag suns are open-books. again, i think there is an aspect of woozi that is very straightforward but that is certainly something that would come through with a scorpio sun.

Sag suns are known for being those sincere, tell it how it is guys. you trust them because they’re so optimistic and open, and not to say that woozi isn’t, but there is a reason people are slow to get close to him. a scorpio sun would make him more calculated with who he lets in.

not only that but in my experience with scorpios, people tend to have a lot of pre perceptions about of them REGARDLESS of how candid and honest of people they actually are once you get to know them.

it’s a common scorpio experience to learn after the fact that the person you just became friends thought you were gonna be totally different even though, in all actuality, you’ve been nothing but nice and open with them from the start.

it’s because of this scorpio veil there is that brings this sense of control they have over their image, and this command over themselves and people. it’s their desire to appear a certain way so people can’t mistake them as being vulnerable or gullible.

you also tend to get the impression that they’ve got an agenda because they are so purposeful.

on top of that, you don’t really doubt with scorpios that they have depths and layers to them from the moment you meet them, where as other people may instantly feel easy, simple, potentially superficial (sagittarians can certainly appear this way).

for scorpios this depth can add this doubt in your own judgement of how you see them because it’s so hard to gauge what’s going on underneath EVEN THO THERE MAY NOT BE ANYTHING GOING ON.

this is something scorpios tend to get very frustrated with as people tend to doubt their intentions.

with that being said scorpios are so straightforward people that, even with these vibes, developed scorpios are incredibly trustworthy, thoughtful, and attentive people so there isn’t any actual concern to be had.

But really scorpios are the type of people who give an impression of fluidity and depth and this is what makes them so magnetic.

i feel like a lot of woozi’s fans love him because he is that tsundere character and that concept of being someone super dynamic/complex underneath the image they project is inherently a scorpio trait.

i could go on for hours. i def think that woozi is far too clingy to be a sag and far too emotionally intuitive NOT to be a scorpio.

also, sagittarius are known for loving travel???? he literally doesn’t even leave his house????

for me it really comes down to whether or not im reading more of a fixed, or mutable energy. right now i’m feeling more fixed.

he’s a steadfast guy and his persistence speaks more for him than any one of his single actions.

he can do anything and he projects such a strong sense of purpose and integrity of character that you’d simply trust his track record and habits before you trusted a random act.

not to say that sag’s don’t have a integrity of character, but if they do something random their blunt and sincere actions would lend you to think, “oh, they’re just doing this now” as opposed to thinking that action was just an outlier.

and honestly he just reeks of the “don’t even try and test me” energy that a mutable sign wouldn’t be so privy to.

i’m almost super convinced but i also totally reserve the right to change my mind lmfao

mainly because his ascendant and houses could attribute to his not-so-sag qualities if he WERE still a sag sun.

i don’t particularly like trying to “decide” what his sun sign is, even though i so desperately want to figure it out (if that wasn’t obviously enough).

mainly because it goes against how i prefer to do readings, in that the person comes first and the chart is secondary. if i’m trying to figure out a sun sign, i have to work solely off of stereotypes of the signs when we’re obviously more complex than that.

trying to figure out sun signs is always going to be contradictory because astrology is allowed to be contradictory because we are contradictory.

ugh it hurts my brain sometimes.

with that being said, let’s actually look at his chart as it is REGARDLESS of his sun.

libra venus is adorable.

he’s a romantic guy.

his chart is very intense and straightforward in literally EVERYTHING except for love and affection.

he’s gentle in how he expresses his appreciation, and very traditional in how he’d approach romance.

this is what softens what i’d consider one of the most extreme and fierce charts in seventeen.

he loves gaining approval from the people he cares about and loves simply being around loved ones as they joke around as he sits back and watches.

feeling that sense of harmony really feeds him, which is why you see him in the background just laughing and enjoying himself.

virgo mars furthers this people-pleasing aspect of his. normally he’d really and sincerely comes across as a “take it or leave it” kind of guy, but when it comes to his loved ones he wants to make things work.

at the same time this is the aspect, kind of paradoxically, that makes him pretty picky and hyper critical.

the moments you see woozi truly angry are when people try and get him to do things he doesn’t want to do, do things differently from how he wants them done, or simply offends him and his preferences.

as i mentioned briefly before this also makes him the perfectionist/workaholic he is.

not only is he persistent in his work, but he genuinely feels listless unless he’s actively working on something.

for him, work heals him which he why he’s able to blur the lines between work and art and still enjoy it.

there’s really so much to unpack with jihoon, i have to stop here because this is getting too long and once i start talking about everything else i wont be able to stop and i’ll end up with a novel.

but my god.

if i ever manage to get my hands on his birth time.

bro.

it’s over.

#seventeen #svt #lee jihoon #woozi #ugh #i think i made a strong case but i promise you there are always going to be holes #i wanted to address the sag/scorpio dilemma here so i wouldn't have to do it again #lmao until i change my mind at least

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who-gave-atlas-a-pencil · 5 years

Text

follow the blackbird home

Summary: A pit inside a pit inside a cave, a handful of skeletons, a little bit of hope, and a conversation.

Read on AO3 for notes.

@shwarmi (Tagging as requested - thank you for the lovely comment!)

By the time they’re all done getting their asses summarily kicked by occult forces taking up residence inside a cave, Clayton’s got two bullets loaded in each gun, a matched set of bloody knuckles, and a scowl carved into his face so hard he thinks it might become permanent.

They’ve been on the trail of this last clue they’d found for three days now. Three days of wandering through the desert and plains, fighting off weird snakes and weirder spirits and though it has truly only been three days, it feels much longer than that. If Clayton never sees another fucking ghost in his entire fucking life, it’ll still be too soon. “Whatever happened to the dead finding rest in the Lord, Mason?” he grumbles, loading another round to replace the ones he’d just expended. “These fuckers don’t look to me like they’re resting.”

“What explanation there may be in heaven or earth, I’ve not yet found it,” Matthew replies from across the cave where he’s helping Bella stand. “Are you alright, Miss Whitlock? That was quite a blow you took a moment ago.”

“I’m rattled, but I’ll make it,” she says, steadying herself on a wall before brushing off his hands. “How are you faring, Reverend?”

“I’m rattled, but I’ll make it,” he echoes, a faint smile chasing across his face. There’s blood seeped across the shoulder of his duster, but he seems to be ignoring it for now. Clayton almost snorts. It’s a fair bit of progress, shrugging off a rock slash when not even a week ago he’d been limping all day from being bucked off a horse.

Almost like he can hear his thoughts, Matthew glances toward Clayton with a look that falls somewhere south of stern. Before he can say anything, Aly pipes up from where he’s been exploring further to the back of the cave they’re stuck in. “Hey, Reverend, Coffin, ladies! Got somethin’ back here!”

Thoroughly regretting the day he’d been delirious enough to admit to his moniker in front of Aloysius, Clayton follows the lantern light back to where the other man is standing by a hole in the ground and squinting at its contents. “This better not be any more of them snake creatures,” Clayton mutters.

Aloysius snorts. “Think I’d be standin’ this close if it was? I may be crazy, but it ain’t that kind of crazy. Look.” He holds the lantern higher and gestures.

Clayton moves beside him, peering down. It’s another pit full of corpses, because apparently nobody in this godforsaken desert believes in throwing dirt over a body to finish burying it. “They’re bones, Aly. Nothin’ new about that.”

“Oh really, it’s bones? You don’t say.” Aloysius elbows him hard in the ribs, pointing again. “Look again.”

Clayton scowls and squints. Tattered scraps of clothing cling to the bones in the pit – a woman’s fancy dress, a pinstriped vest, one single boot with rotting leather soles – but that’s not what catches his eye. The lighting shifts and glints off a rusted metal edge deep beneath the bodies, half covered in dirt. “Is that a box?”

“Looks like one to me. Maybe our dearly departed friends here were buryin’ something before they got buried themselves.”

The others approach from behind. Matthew stands behind Clayton and looks over his shoulder, then mutters a soft oath. “God rest their souls.”

“If God didn’t, I think we just might’ve,” Clayton says, glancing back at Matthew. “Four bodies. Four ghosts. I don’t reckon that’s a coincidence.”

“What powers would have possessed them to render such a return, though?” Arabella is leaning on Miriam, who has a hand around her waist. For being ladies of such fine standing, they’re both looking mighty tired. “Most of the dearly departed don’t come back to exact vengeance on those who visit their grave.”

“Not much of a grave, Miss Whitlock,” Clayton says. “More like a hole in the ground.” He turns around and finds himself face to face with Matthew, nearly bumping into his chest. He pulls the rope from the side of his pack and holds it out, instinctive. “Anchor me?”

“Always,” Matthew says, and grabs the rope with both hands.

Not five minutes later, Clayton’s feeling more than a slight sense of déjà vu as he swings himself down the fifteen foot drop into the pit, wondering all the way what the hell would prompt someone to dig a hole this deep and where the displaced dirt got off to. He’s careful dismounting at the bottom, mindful of the skulls and bodies beneath him. They’re probably past the point of caring, but the dead are due a little respect.

“You see anything down there, Mister Sharpe?” Miriam’s head pokes over the top of the pit, just barely.

“Nothing I didn’t see up there. Gimme a minute. Aly, hold that lantern a bit higher, I can’t see shit.” Breathing in the faint rot that surrounds the bodies, Clayton watches the light shift and makes his way toward the metal edge in the dirt when he sees it glint again. He moves aside the skeletal remains of the man laying inconveniently atop it, then frowns. “What the hell?”

“Clayton?” Matthew’s voice is laced just barely with a hint of concern. “Is everything alright down there?”

“Yeah,” he calls back. “Yeah, everything’s fine. But this ain’t a box, it’s a door of some kind.”

There’s a sudden burst of conversation from up top, everyone talking all at once. Clayton ignores them, kicking at the dirt around the metal slab in the floor until he reveals the full of it. It’s about three feet square and hinged on one side, a heavy and rusted padlock keeping it closed tight. Clayton contemplates it for a moment, looks at his gun, then looks up at the top of the pit. “Miriam, Matthew. One of you toss me your gun.”

“That doesn’t seem safe to me,” Matthew says nervously.

Fogg sighs. “Come on, gimme the rope. I got you.” He braces himself, and a moment later there’s a second person in the pit with Clayton, broad shoulders taking up a good amount of the narrow space.

Matthew hands over the shotgun, looking nervously between the padlock and the weapon now in Clayton’s hands. “You don’t mean to shoot that, do you? It’ll be rather loud in such a small space.”

“It’d also end up like as not with a bunch of holes in both our legs from the shrapnel,” Clayton remarks drily, then starts to slam the stock of the shotgun into the lock. After a few solid blows, the metal gives with a groan and the lock falls uselessly away. Clayton takes a step back and holds out an arm. “You want the honours, Father?”

“Not particularly,” Matthew admits, but opens the door anyway, slow and cautious as he can with the amount of rust collecting around the hinges. It looks like a heavy son of a bitch, but the preacher makes opening the door look easy, if not entirely effortless. Clayton looks inside, and all he sees is a rope ladder descending into more shadows. Matthew makes a face and sighs. “That’s not reassuring.”

Clayton scoffs. “That’s puttin’ it mildly.”

“What’s down there?” It’s Bella this time, sounding worried. “All we can see is a pit and then another pit.”

“That’s all we can see too,” Clayton says, biting back a sigh. “I’m going down. Keep an eye out up here. Best to be ready for anything.” He turns to Matthew. “Give me your lantern, would you?”

“That seems unnecessary, given that I’m joining you in this pit.” Clayton frowns, but he’s met with another cheerful if slightly worried smile. “You can hardly expect me to let you go alone. There’s no telling what manner of foul creature might be down there.”

Probably nothing fouler than I can outrun, Clayton thinks, but keeps it to himself. He doesn’t fancy being joined in another ominous pit of doom by someone with the Reverend’s reputation for kindness, but he fancies going into it alone even less. Two sets of eyes are better than one, and if there’s anything he’s learned this past week of working with the other man, it’s that he’s known mules that are less stubborn. He holds out his hand anyway. “Fine, but give me the lantern anyway. I’m goin’ first.”

With a few more slightly panicked well-wishes from the top of the pit, they descend. For how old and rickety the ladder feels, it holds Clayton’s weight surprisingly well through the twenty or so feet he spends climbing down it. He reaches the bottom and Matthew starts down from the top as Clayton turns around, the lantern held high to illuminate just what they’ve gotten themselves into now.

The first thing he sees is a body, or what’s left of one. It’s been rotting a while by the smell of it, and its guts are splattered half across the floor like shriveled, gory worms, its head twisted around so far the neck is tearing. Whatever did the body in, it did the job thoroughly. Behind him, Matthew gags and makes the sign of the cross in the air.

For as little thought as he gives to religion, Clayton can’t help but feel the same instinct rise up in his guts. Whatever did this, it’s a hell of a way to die. “Let’s hope we’re not about to go out in the same way,” he says, “or the others might get it in their heads to come down and check.”

“I certainly hope they’d have more sense,” Matthew murmurs, and Clayton pretends he doesn’t hear the note of uncertainty in his voice. It’s a strange arrangement that they’ve come to, the people at the top of the pit and the pair of them in the depths of it. They look out for each other, all of them. It makes things complicated, when so many of the situations they keep finding themselves in end with them feeling torn between saving their own skin and saving each other.

They explore in silence for a time, periodically reporting their progress to the three upstairs as they pick their way through the chamber. It’s almost entirely empty, with the obvious exception of the body in the middle of the floor. The only thing they find other than empty bottles and rats is a single book, thick and covered with dust and written entirely in some foreign tongue or another.

When he shows it to Matthew, the Reverend’s brow creases for a moment before he brightens. “It’s Latin,” he says. “I can translate this. It will take a minute, of course, but I can do it.” He flips the book over in his hands a few times, frowning. “It’s strange that it shouldn’t have a title.”

“It’s strange that it’s written in Latin. Think it might be this dead gentleman’s journal.”

“Or his last will,” Matthew suggests.

“That’d certainly be convenient, given the circumstances.” Clayton shrugs off the admonishing look Matthew gives him and, leaving the light with him, walks back over to the ladder, looking up through the gloom to where he can still just make out the others up top.

Aly’s taken to sitting at the edge of the pit, his legs dangling over the side. “Found anythin’ interesting yet down there?”

“Not since you asked two minutes ago, no.”

“Goddamn,” Aloysius swears, scratching the back of his head. “That place completely empty or are you just hard to impress? Maybe I oughta ask the Reverend instead. He finds good shit everywhere. Hey, Reverend!” He cups his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, and the result is an entire cave ringing with the echo.

When he’s done plugging his ears, Clayton fixes Aloysius with a stern glare that has absolutely no effect on the other man’s grin. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“Gentlemen, would you please stop pretending you hate each other for five minutes?” Bella interrupts, loud enough for Clayton to hear even far below. “This presentation is giving me a headache.”

“It’s probably not the only thing makin’ your head hurt, Miss Whitlock,” Aloysius points out, not unkindly. “That was a mighty hit you took not too long ago.”

Whatever response Arabella gives, Clayton doesn’t hear it. At that moment, a hand falls on his shoulder, and he spins around ready to deck someone before he realises it’s just the Reverend come up behind him, and not the reanimated corpse of whoever came down here last. Matthew puts up both hands in a show of innocence, briefly terrified. “Hold your fire, it’s only me.”

“I can see that now,” Clayton mutters, relaxing. “What is it?”

“Good news,” Matthew replies. “We were right.”

“Well, that’s a shocker if I’ve ever heard one. Right about what?”

“This is the dead person’s journal, and I believe it is the key to understanding what’s going on in this town beyond our current, ah- primitive understanding of it.” It’s a mighty polite way of saying that they know fuck-all about any of this weird shit, but Clayton waits for Matthew to continue instead of commenting. “Look at this.”

Clayton blinks at the journal, the line he’s being shown in it. “Matthew, it’s still in Latin.”

“Yes, of course. Foolish of me. What I meant to say is, this line is referencing gold, a great wealth of it. And this here, it speaks of riches and the protection of them through means not of this earth. There’s symbols too, though that’s more Miss Whitlock’s area of expertise than mine, but the important part is-“

“All this weird shit’s been happening because somebody was protectin’ their gold stash,” Clayton finishes. He blinks and shakes his head, the Dealer’s words echoing in his head. This land is poisoned by greed. “I’ll be damned.”

“I doubt that greatly,” Matthew retorts almost offhandedly, snapping the book closed. He grabs Clayton’s elbow with a feverish excitement that doesn’t belong in a dark pit like this. “Don’t you see? These are the answers we’ve been looking for. If Miss Whitlock can decode the meaning of those symbols, we can stop this madness, bring peace back to this place once and for all.”

There is a hopeful light in the Reverend’s eyes, and it’s only now that Clayton realises this is the first time he’s seen it. All those times before, when he’s been preaching and begging for help to rebuild the church, that’s been well-meant speeches. Here, now, he isn’t just crossing his fingers and asking for salvation. He’s looking like he intends to bring it whether the Lord grants it or not.

Hope doesn’t serve anyone too well in these parts. But Clayton’s in too deep to back out now. He clasps the Reverend’s shoulder and squeezes. “ Then it seems we oughta get upstairs to see if she can make sense of those symbols.”

“Right. Of course. After you, then.”

Clayton nods and ascends the ladder, then starts on the rope once he sees Matthew start to climb below him. Aloysius holds the rope steady, but as soon as Clayton gets to the top he takes over anyway as he hears the heavy metal door close once more. “You sure ‘bout this, Mister Coffin?” Aloysius asks. “Reverend’s a big man. I might do better lifting him, or the both of us.”

“I got him,” Clayton says, maybe a bit sharply, and braces himself for the weight. Two minutes later, Matthew’s over the top of the pit and brushing himself off as Aloysius helps him to stand. He shows the book to Arabella, and the two of them are off, discussing translations and the possible meanings of the book.

Clayton watches them for a long moment as he recoils the rope around his forearm, and doesn’t notice he’s frowning until Miriam sidles up beside him. “Why don’t you and me take a walk, Mister Sharpe? This cave is stifling me something dreadful. I could do with some air.”

“Don’t reckon you need my assistance to breathe, Miss Miriam, but I’ll accompany you nonetheless if you want me to.” There doesn’t seem to be any further threat in this area, and with Aloysius enraptured by the conversation between Matthew and Bella, it could be a while before anything else of interest presents itself. All the same, he checks his guns and gives the area one more keen scan before starting off toward the distant mouth of the cave at Miriam’s side.

They keep a leisurely pace, making their way along without much small talk. It’s a few minutes’ walk, but the path is simple, no branches or side tunnels to confuse them. When they step outside, it becomes obvious that they’ve been in there a good while. The sun that had been hanging high overhead when they entered is now dipping low toward the horizon, dyeing the sky a dark, bloody red.

“That’s more like it,” Miriam says, breathing deep. Clayton gives a noncommittal hum and tilts his head back to look at the sky. It’ll be a clear night, if they fancy sleeping outside instead of nestling up in the corpse cave, a notion he certainly favours. He’ll take his chances with the elements over the undead any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Then again, nobody’s asked him.

A minute passes. Two. Clayton says nothing. Miriam brought him out here with a purpose. Now it’s just a matter of waiting until she decides to bring it up.

Just as he’d expected, she starts talking before too much longer. “What do you expect they might find in that journal, Mister Sharpe? Occult symbols and Latin diaries mix uncomfortably with the phenomena we’ve been experiencing.”

There ain’t much that mixes comfortably with what we’ve been experiencing, Clayton doesn’t say. His shoulder twitches in a brief shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. Reverend said something about gold, protectin’ it with ‘means not of this earth’.” A week ago, the phrase would have dripped with sarcastic venom, but now it's too real a possibility for him to mock. “I expect we’ll either find ourselves toe to toe with a demon of the abyss, or we’ll find the gold the poor bastard downstairs was tryin’ so hard to protect.”

“Perhaps you men folk should place bets on which is more likely to happen.”

You couldn’t pay me to make a bet like that these days, Clayton thinks, raising an eyebrow. “Us men folk? Am I to assume you and Miss Whitlock wouldn’t have an interest in participating, then?”

Miriam flashes him a smile, quick and sharp and without any teeth. “Of course not. It’s below our delicate sensibilities.”

Clayton snorts. “All due respect, ma’am, but that delicate sensibilities line would work a far sight better on someone who hadn’t seen you shoot.”

“Maybe so. All the same, never hurts to put on a bit of a show, now does it?”

“I suppose not.”

“I thought so,” Miriam says with a smile, a real one this time. She leans in close and drops her voice low. “Seems to me that you’re familiar with a bit of showmanship yourself, Mister Sharpe.”

There it is, the real reason they’re out there. She wants to know more about him, about the man who’d called him The Coffin. The reveal doesn’t surprise him, but the sudden way it drops into the conversation reminds him of a rattler, coiled up on the sand and ready to strike. “Knew you didn’t ask me out here to talk about the weather,” he says, keeping his face clean of emotion. “Something you’d like to say, Miss Miriam?

“I’d like you to relax yourself, for one thing,” Miriam huffs, sounding slightly offended. “I’m not about to interrogate you. That was an observation, not an accusation.”

“Where I’m from, those two things are mighty similar more often than not.”

“If I wanted to accuse you of something, I’d come out and say it more bluntly. I do have a question, however, one I’d assumed you’d rather not answer in front of the others.”

“And that is?”

“How are you handling all this?” It’s not the question he’s expecting. Clayton jolts and looks over at Miriam, only to find her looking back. There’s a sternness tugging at the corners of her mouth, her typical ferocity carved in her brow, but there’s no hint of unkindness to be found.

He blinks, stunned. “Beg your pardon?”

“How are you holding up?” Miriam repeats. “Arabella’s all over the idea of the occult, and Aloysius doesn’t seem inclined to letting any situation dampen his mood. The Reverend has his faith. What are you holding onto in all this mess, Mister Sharpe? What’s stopping you from walking away?”

“Five hundred gold and keeping myself on the green side of the grass seems a solid incentive from where I’m standing,” Clayton says drily. “Mister Swearingen isn’t the type I like to make an enemy of.”

“I expect if you wanted to badly enough, you could get away without that being a concern,” Miriam says, her voice all too knowing. A shiver runs down Clayton’s spine like someone walking over his grave, and not for the first time he finds himself wondering just what the hell kind of tricks it is that Miriam has up her deceptively short sleeves.

“I like havin’ powerful friends,” he says.

“I thought you preferred a life in the shadows,” Miriam counters, and he understands very suddenly that his earlier thought of conversations like snakes was not so wrong after all. In a fight, Miriam shoots to kill. When she talks, she does the same.

He looks away and crosses his arms, feeling entirely too exposed. “What difference does it make? I’m not walkin’ away. What does the rest of it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t. You do.” Clayton stiffens, and Miriam continues. “We’re partners in this enterprise, you and me and all the others. Even if you don’t want to consider us friends, for the time being we’re responsible for each other. You spend a lot of time looking after the others, Mister Sharpe. I think it only fitting that someone be looking out for you.”

“I appreciate the concern, Missus Landisman, but I look out for myself just fine.” He can’t help the slight chill that slips into his tone, the way it flattens out. He’s spent his whole life looking out for himself, doesn’t turn his back on anything if he can help it. He doesn’t mind people saving his neck when they’re in the vicinity and he can return the favour, but the last thing he needs is anyone watching him or his back.

“I know you do. I’ve also seen how you look out for the Reverend.”

“That’s because he’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Same thing,” Clayton snaps, suddenly angry. “He seems to think by solvin’ this mystery he can bring peace on us or something. You believe that? Peace don’t belong in Deadwood or anywhere near it. All he’s gonna do is get himself run out of town with the church on fire behind him, again.”

Miriam watches him with a steady expression. “That was a lot of passion just now out of a man who purports not to care,” she says without any malice, and just like that the fight slides back out of Clayton like it was never there at all.

He leans his head back against the wall of the cave entrance and closes his eyes. Counts backward from ten, slowly, then does it again. He thinks that if this place goes under, it'll take him with it. If this thing they've got going falls through, if they fail, or if they succeed and walk off to different corners of the horizon, he's not sure what he'll do. He’s got his guard up for a reason and somehow these people and their foolish ways have already slipped past it, wormed their way into his brain like parasites. If this fails, if they fail, everything will go down with them, and he never has much liked waiting for the world to fall. He’d rather be the one to make it kneel.

After a long, heavy silence, he tries again. “Caring’s just a word, Miss Miriam,” he says and opens his eyes again to the horizon, the crimson sky. “It won’t save anyone from bad luck. Nothin’ will.”

To his surprise, Miriam steps closer, lays a hand on his shoulder, slow and tentative. “I don’t think you give that heart of yours enough credit, Clayton,” she says, her voice soft. “Caring about someone can do more than you think.”

The moment stretches out for a long while before her hand falls away. The moment it does, Aloysius appears from the tunnel behind them like he’s been waiting for a cue. “Sharpe, Ma’am, you best get back here. The other two made themselves at home with that journal and I think they’re getting somewhere with all this supernatural mumbo jumbo.”

“Is that right?” Miriam turns, smiling like they’ve only been discussing the weather all this time, and loops her arm through Aly’s. “In that case, I think you should lead the way, Mister Fogg. Mister Sharpe, will you be joining us?”

“In a minute,” he says in what he hopes is a normal tone. The pair wander off back into the cave and leave him alone at the mouth of it, frowning out into the horizon like it’s personally done him wrong.

What are you holding onto in all this mess? What’s stopping you from walking away? The questions scrape at the inside of his skull, harsh and grating. Ahead of him, the flat expanse of desert and plains asks no questions, tells no lies. A man could build a life out here, if he tried hard enough. There's supposed to be gold, plenty of it, and hope to spare. To his eyes, the sunset still looks like blood.

Clayton turns around, faces the cave entrance, and walks.

#critical role #undeadwood #fanfiction #reverend matthew mason #clayton sharpe #matthew mason/clayton sharpe #gen fic #m/m #tw: brief descriptions of gore #atlas writes

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sweetheart-station · 4 years

Note

Hi I love your blog! Could I request a rwby imagine..? Jaune x reader where the reader starts to notice she has feelings for Jaune but knows he’s still dealing with the loss of Pyrrha? ☺️

Ah, thank you for the kind words! I hope I did a good job with this one. It ended up becoming so loooong I’m so sorry - Mod Venus

Believe

Jaune Arc x Reader (REQUEST)

Having a crush is hard.

Having a crush on someone whom you know personally? Harder.

Having a crush on someone you know that you know someone else had a crush on? The actual worst.

One might have never expected Jaune Arc, former resident bumbler of Beacon Academy, to be the reason for such an issue. And yet...here you were. Pining for a boy who had no idea of how you felt.

That was mostly your fault, though. You weren’t about to blame him for your plight. Heaven knows he had enough to deal with as it was; far too much for someone so kind-hearted. It was that exact reason that made it so hard to tell him. With everything you and he had ever known crumbling around you at a charging pace, how on Earth was there any room for such frivolous things as confessions?

“Hey...you ok, (Name)?”

A familiar voice snapped you out of your internal monologue, making you look up at the concerned face of whom it belonged to. Ah, of course it had to be him.

“I’m fine, Jaune. Just lost in thought. Lots to think about, y’know,” you said casually, adjusting the weapon sheath on your back so the strap wasn’t drooping off your shoulder.

Crap, way to be a professional huntress, (Name). You totally look prepared for anything to jump out at you with your only tool of defense hanging like an unconscious koala baby off your back.

Pyrra wouldn’t have been so sloppy.

You shook your head rapidly. You were NOT going to let your mind wander down that path. Absolutely not.

“You sure? You had a kind of weird expression on your face,” he continued. You shot him a smile.

“Really, I’m fine. It’s nothing important. If it were, you’d be the first to know,” you reassured him. Jaune’s face screwed up a bit, like he was trying to decipher any hidden meanings, before it relaxed. He returned a smile and looked back to the road ahead. You mentally breathed a sigh of relief, before yelping as an arm flew around your shoulder and nearly toppled you over.

“Soooo, (Name,) is there’s any chance you still have any of those snacks you packed left?” Nora asked slyly. You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you replied cheekily. “It’ll be more than enough for when we set up camp tonight...for me.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Jaune couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face as Nora whined at you, begging as you just deflected every plea with a playful smirk. It was good to see you socializing, especially after how distraught you had been with the fall of Beacon and the loss of half your team during the Grimm invasion. The last remaining team member had been found, but now was lying in hospital deep in a coma in one of the towns spared from the onslaught.

He empathized so much with you it hurt.

Jaune sighed. He never would have expected you to tag along with his team, but he was grateful you had for a number of reasons. One, you two were good friends despite being on seperate teams; two, you were laid back, but reliable; and three, he didn’t want to imagine you being left all on your own...all by yourself with only the “what-ifs” and “should-haves” there to keep you company.

He knew how it felt first hand. It was awful.

“Jauuune! You’re the leader! Say something!” Nora’s voice snapped him back to the present, making him blink, perplexed.

“Wha?”

“Come on! Surely (Name) can share, right? Don’t you wanna know what kinds of goodies she has stashed?” Nora pressed, staring at him expectantly and waving wildly in your direction. Jaune glanced over, trying not to be intimidated by your cocked eyebrow and deadpan expression, almost daring him to say something. You were a notorious foodie, not one to part with your treasures so easily.

“I don’t know...” he trailed off, perking when you raised your hand to cut him off.

“It’s fine. She has a point,” you said, nodding sagely. Jaune was confounded, but Nora grew excited.

“Heck yeah I do!” She trilled. You continued to nod with fingers on your chin, like you were contemplating philosophy.

“Yes...I can part with some things. I shall share....with Ren,” you finished, leaning over to hang your arm off the shoulder of the man in question. Jaune snorted, Ren let out an “uhhh..,” and Nora gasped dramatically.

“HOW COULD YOU”

~oOoOoOoOo~

The night came fast, bringing the chill of the dark with it. Thankfully the campfire provided some comfort as everyone sat around it, tired but almost too anxious to sleep. Everyone except Jaune.

You bit your lip. This wasn’t the first time the team leader had gone off on his own, but it never stopped worrying you. What if something happened while the rest of you were asleep, with no way of hearing him call for help? What if he got attacked with no one to back him up and by the time you all got there, it would be too late?

You almost wanted to chew him out for it, making you fret so much. At the same time, you wanted to respect his privacy. Clearly he was doing it for a reason, otherwise he wouldn’t be doing it every single time you all slept. He wasn’t some angst-filled loner archetype from comic books and movies. He was Jaune. Goofy, simple, sweet Jaune.

You sighed. You hated when your mind raced like this, like snow building up higher and higher as it rolled down a mountain. Deciding you couldn’t take it any longer, you stood up and turned toward where Jaune had gone. Guess it was time to see what exactly was going on.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Jaune let out a grunt as he swung his sword, the clang of metal ringing through the air as it sliced through nothing. He gritted his teeth as the soft, digital voice of his former teammate called out more commands. Every jab, counter, and swing just riled him up more, instead of wearing him down like he’d hoped.

He always hoped. He never believed.

He sighed, pausing as he listened to the recording continue, turning from instruction to praise and encouragement. He couldn’t tell if he liked this part or hated it every time he heard it. It filled him with anger and bitterness.

Guilt and regret.

A tiny part of his brain always tried to reassure him. It wasn’t his fault. He would never have gotten there in time. He didn’t even know there was someone strong enough to defeat Pyrra, let alone...kill her.

What could HE have possibly done?

A vein twitched in his neck and he yelled as he swung his sword again, with enough force to make it fly from his grasp and spin in the air before spearing the earth. He stumbled forward, barely catching himself on his knees and shield digging into the dirt from supporting his weight.

He panted, sweat forming on his temple despite the cool night air. How pathetic he must look right now; how fitting for how he felt.

“Jaune..?” A soft, cautious voice snapped him out of his pity party if only for a moment, making him look up to meet your eyes.

“Oh, hey...what are you doing up? And all the way out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing...” You peered around the clearing, noticing the flattened grass from numerous footsteps and the sword sticking haphazardly out the ground. He sighed.

“Nothing really, just...couldn’t sleep,” he replied, running a hand through his hair before standing up.

“I see...” your voice remained gentle as your eyes landed on a nearby log. “How about a seat then?”

He stared at you before nodding, breath returning to normal as he followed you. The two of you let out grunts as you slumped into your seats. For whatever reason he had a hard time looking at you, scared to meet your eyes and see the pity that was surely sitting in them.

“...Wanna talk about it?” you questioned, cautious. He scoffed, though it was hollow.

“Not really anything to talk about. Nothing that hasn’t been said a bunch already,” he replied. He could feel your eyes scowering his face, which might have embarrassed him had he not felt so low.

“...Alright.”

He blinked, managing to look at you with a tired and befuddled expression as you casually offered him a snack bar. The familiar and cute face of Pumpkin Pete stared cheerily back at him from the wrapper: a cereal bar.

“Take it. A midnight snack won’t hurt, right?”

“Right...” he repeated, taking it slowly and peeling back the packaging with a crinkle. You watched as he took a bite before starting on your own. The night air was quiet; only the two of you filling the silence with the sounds of wrappers. It was an odd kind of peaceful, though the lingering tension remained. What was he supposed to say now?

“You know...you’re an amazing guy, Jaune.”

He froze halfway through taking another bite, eyeing you. You continued unbothered.

“Despite how many times you fallen down, which may or may not be a lot,” you quipped, “you always get right back on the horse. I’ve known a lot of people who just call it quits after a quarter of the stuff you go through. And that’s always been amazing to me.”

He stared at you blankly at first, but when he opened his mouth to say something you cut him off with a look.

“And before you say anything, no, I’m not just saying this. It’s the truth.”

“Trying doesn’t mean it works...” he muttered bitterly. You shrugged.

“Trying also doesn’t mean you’ll always fail.”

“It does for me. But what else is new...the only reason I’m still here is because of the team, and I can’t pay them back for that no matter how hard I try.”

“Who said that?”

“Well-“

“If it’s those meatheads from back in school, their opinion is garbage. If it’s you...then you really need an eye-opener. Because no one who matters asked for you to flagellate yourself like this...no one wants that. It’s ok to hurt..but don’t hurt yourself even more. That won’t change what happened in the past, and it won’t help you get a brighter future. The most anyone can do...is just keep trying, until it doesn’t feel like trying anymore.”

Jaune stared. You stared back, no judgement in your eyes, but instead firm belief.

Belief.

He didn’t know when his forehead had found your shoulder, or when the burning in his eyes and the knot in his throat had formed, but he didn’t bother trying to figure it out. Instead, he just sat there, leaning against you like the pillar you always were. You just sat silently, gaze soft as you looked on.

You of all people would understand...of course you would. You too had felt loss, and you too had tried not to make a big show of it despite the concerned faces and tentative questions. And yet...here you were, offering advice that you had likely heard...or even told yourself. Jaune doubted the guilt would ever fully go away...but maybe with you, he could turn that guilt into a reason to do better. A purpose.

A belief.

And he knew the two of you would fight for it together.

-Wow again sorry this took so long but...it turned out so long and it’s been a busy couple of weeks. I should be getting back on track shortly! - Mod Venus

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sporadic-writer · 5 years

Text

Mrs. All American

Harrison x American!Reader

At least 2 parts, maybe more.

Warnings: my usual ones.. swearing maybe some mentions of alcohol or being suggestive plus sarcasm

Summary: reader is a friend of Tom's and finally meets Harrison

°••°••°••°••°••°••°

You and Tom Holland met on vacation. Your families both happened to be at the same place at the same time in America. You all met and ended up finding ways to stay in touch, even his brothers, but mainly Tom. Despite knowing him before his rise to fame, you never stopped staying in touch with each other. Even a few vacations after your first meeting, you met up again and caught up.

You met right before your sophomore year of high school, now you were a junior in college and he was a movie star. Even though it would be cool to brag, not once did you say you knew him as a friend like you did. People wouldn't believe you anyway. Your friends did know that you had friends from England though. Over time, you both went on vacations less and therefore saw each other less. You always made sure to keep up on life details, but both of you mutally missed each other. Plus, he wanted to catch up for real rather than over texting. So one day the Brit told you he is flying you to London in order to properly hang out again. Initially, you refused, not wanting him to cover everything and take advantage of him. He protested, found a few dates you could visit, and gave you no other option but to fly out and see everyone. He really won you over when he said twins and his mom wanted to catch up. After telling your parents and convincing them that it would be fine for you to go, you got a passport and began packing.

Sooner than you thought, it was time to travel and you were at TSA and going to the international boarding areas. You texted Tom and updated him on things and patientally waited. Next thing you knew, you were on your first international flight and off to see your foreign friend. The flight wasn't too bad, and you kept yourself busy with music and TV. Luckily, school was over for the semester and you didn't have any summer work to focus on. So this was a nice break for you. Eventually, the flight landed at London's airport and you tried to remember where Tom told you to go. After texting him, you took out an ear bud to focus better on the signs and managed to get your bags and go where Tom said to go. Once you were pretty sure you got to the area, you saw no one familliar and sat down to wait.

While humming to Paramore you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning, you expected Tom, but came face to face with Harrison instead. You never actually met him, but obviously knew of him and saw pictures. He smiled and you pulled out your headphones.

"Are you Y/N?" He was cautious and was probably worried had just approached the wrong person.

You smiled and nodded. "Yeah haha I am. How did you know?" Thinking, you questioned how obviously American you looked.

"Tom described you pretty well. Bunch of rings on, leather bracelet, h/c about your length. Also said you would probably be listening to music. He did a good job. Mentioned you would be somewhere in this area too."

"Ahh gotcha. Here I was worried I was the American that stuck out like basic tourist." You chuckled and so did he. You took note of how handsom he was in person. And you kicked yourself for only now getting acquainted with him. Tom was a simple a friend, but your friend's friend doesnt have to be.

He grabbed one of your bags for headed in the direction you assumed was the car. "Well love, you do with that strong accent of yours, but don't worry, you look good regardless." He glanced at you from his side view and you prayed your blush was hidden via your hair.

"That's good at least. And not to sound rude or anything but.. where's Tom? He made it sound like he was picking me up." You looked at him curiously but hoping not to offend him.

"Considering it is a busy time here and you aren't associated with him too much in a famous matter I suggested that I pick you up and take us to him." It was this statement that you realized his beanie and casual attire. He blended in easily and if you didn't know any better you would have thought he was anybody else in an airport.

"Clever. I am not in the mood to pop up online. My friends don't even know I've met him or any of this friends and fam." By this point you made it to the car and bags were put in the trunk. You walked over to the passenger seat, but he came up to the same door. The way you looked at him made him laugh.

"England remember? This is the driver's side."

You groaned and leaned your head back. "Well I'm a fucking moron!" In an embarrassed manner, you walked to the other side of the car. "If ya'll didn't know I was American you sure do now!"

At this point he's laughing and smiling at you. "Again, the accent does that all on it's own. But you do swear as strongly we do."

"Yeah back home not everyone appreciates that. That and the sarcasm has gotten me in trouble before. Uptight pricks." The last part was mumbled, but he caught it. He grew a quick liking to you. In the least cringey sounding way possible, you were different. You were genuine. Then the 2 of you spent the drive together listening to music and he updated you on some other English things to note. Some of them he did in a teasing manner that made you roll your eyes and laugh. But sooner or later you made it to Tom's family's place.

Harrison went for the bags but you said to wait and get them later. You just wanted to see your friends again. Following Harrison into the house, you heard feet rush up to the door and you were trapped in 2 hugs at once. Instantly, you knew who it was.

"Boys. How's it goin?" The smile on your face was broad as you were rocked back and forth in the hug.

"Better now that we finally get to hang with you again Y/N." Sam was slowly detaching himself from you. At this point Tom was walking up and shoved his brothers off you.

"Move your asses it's my turn to hug her. Haven't seen her in like 3 or 4 years in person!" He pulls you in and you laugh as you hug each other.

Harry huffs, "Neither have we. Just because you flew her out here doesn't mean you have dibs. Last we saw her was when her family said goodbye before our vacation ended."

"Tom promised me a party of some sort? So we can all hang out don't worry." You smiled at the boys, remembering why you missed them in the first place. "God I missed you guys! School has been kicking my ass so this is nice. But before we party, I am gonna need to sleep hard. Because I can already tell jetlag will ruin me."

"Mom and dad won't be back til later anyway, so we can hang and you can see them tomorrow." Harry smiled at you, clearly just eager to spend time with you again.

Realizing that you've been back for a while, it hit you that you never let your parents know. "Oof, ok I need to call my folks, tell them I'm back and safe and everything. I'll be right back." You walked off and heard Tom say they would be in the living room.

The boys followed in as you went off on your phone. Tom spoke up first, thanking Harrison for picking you up.

"No problem mate, she's cool. Kinda annoyed you kept her to yourself all this time."

"Hey the one time you came to the states with us for vacation, her family couldn't go then. Why you buggin about it? Into her?"

Harrison looks away while checking you aren't too close. Softly he responds, shrugging. "Yeah a little I guess. Like I said, she's cool."

"Haz and Y/N sittin in a tree!" Sam and Harry started laughing at the same time while Harrison rolled his eyes.

"I regret saying anything. Those 2 morons will blab the minute she's back." Like magic, you walked back in. Putting your phone in your pocket with a bright smile.

"Alright. That's done. Now I need a comfy couch, some good TV, and to catch up with ya'll." Tom and Harrison chuckled to themselves.

You groaned slightly, "Really? It's because I said ya'll isn't it? Come on..!"

"Y/N! You aren't even from the south! I don't know why you say it but it is really American so it's funny to us."

Plopping down between Harrison and Tom you smacked them both lightly. "Whatever. You don't hear me giggling whenever you say mate or something."

"Relax it's cute. Right Haz?" Tom looks playfully at his best friend, testing the waters a bit. He ignores the slight glare he sends back in return. You do as well.

"I guess it is." He was trying not to get flustered by your perfume. If he wasn't mistaken, it was Channel no. 5. It was hypnotic. All he did was pick you up from the airport and talk in the car, feelings shouldn't be building up this fast. Considering the girl is only here for a little while, he figured take a shot before she leaves and who knows when he will see her again.

"Alright, well let's hang tonight. Y/N want a beer?" He looks to the girl as he is getting up. Her voice perks up with a cute 'yes please' and he walks to the kitchen releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. Grabbing a few beers he returns and distributes them out. Once handing one to the girl next to Tom he sits back down and everyone speaks casually. About 2 beers deep he feels good and she's ever so slightly giggly. He feels bold enough to get up, grab some more for everyone, and as he sits down his arm goes to the back of the couch near your shoulders. He swears you leans in a little bit, but he tries not to think too much into it. Wanting to help him get the picture, you lean in more after that new beer was finished. A couple hours pass and his arm is around your shoulders and you feel sleep coming over you. Tom simply glances at you guys and smirks. He sends the twins a text to not say anything, and one to Harrison with the smirk emoji.

As time passes Sam is the first to get up for bed. A few minutes later the rest of you follow his lead. All of you get up and Harrison's hand falls down and lightly trails your arm as it lands at his side. You hold the goose bumps back and stretch.

"Goodnight guys! I am dead. Surprising because it is only like 7pm back home for me. But thank you for a great first night. Tomorrow the parents are swinging by? Good! Tom we are all crashing at your place tomorrow right?"

The man in question nods. "Yup! Tomorrow we stay at my place in town after my parents come back then the party day after that."

You smile at everyone widely. "Yay! I get to play tourist! At least by then the jetlag will be fine. But alright. Show me my room!"

Tom showed you up and Harrison remembered your bags were still in the car. By the time you started walking to the door he was already back.

You stopped as to not run into him. "Oh damn sorry! I didn't know you were back already."

"You're fine love. Where do you want them?"

"Just by the window please." He put the stuff down and turned to face you after you thanked him. As he stayed standing there you smirked and spoke up. "Want a tip or something Harrison?"

He flushed realizing he zoned out and mutter out a response. However, you didn't catch it and got closer. The air was filled with slight tension and neither knowing how to act.

Quietly you asked, "What were you sayin?"

"Nothing. Sorry.. I was trying to think of a clever response, but couldn't think of one." Although you weren't that short, you still felt like he towered over you. So you glanced up at him through your lashes.

"I guess I should get to sleep then? I don't know how long jetlag will keep me sleeping tomorrow, but I don't want to keep Tom's folks waiting." He nods and little and looks down at you. Then he turns a bit and heads towards the door, and you follow a few spaces behind.

Once at the door he turns back to you and you can see in his eyes he is thinking about something.

"Um I don't know how guys say good night to a cute girl in America but.." He leans down and sweetly kisses your cheek. His lips are warm and soft. You smile as he pulls away, looking right at you. He starts to turn but you grab his arm lightly and pulls him back to you. This time though you gently pressed your lips to his. The kiss was not hot or deep, just lips to lips in a sweet manner. It was quick and light, but enough to get the point accross.

As you pull back you look at him with a smirk. "That's how you do it Haz." Then you close the door to rest for the next day ahead you. The only thing you missed was Harrison coming back to reality and with a full grin as he walked to his room.

°••°••°••°••°••°••°

There isn't enough Haz fic in the world. Hope you guys like this! As always like and reblog!!

Part 2 here!

#harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield #harrison fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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distant-rose · 6 years

Text

Playing Off Foul (1/2)

Notes: I’ve been working off this idea for awhile. I just needed to get it off my chest. I have so much baseball!Killian crap in my WIP drawer and it needs to see the light of day. A special thank you to @welllpthisishappening and @katie-dub for being my support system and for encouraging me to write this nonsense. My apologies to fans of the Arizona Diamondbacks and Carmelo Anthony. My shade is nothing personal. Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t know anything about baseball, only that her son Henry is obsessed and works as a ballboy for the New York Yankees. She has no interest in it, that is until her son gets whacked with a foul ball and she comes face-to-face with the player that hit it - Killian Jones. Rating: T+ Word Count: 4,600+

When it came down to it, Emma blamed David.

Though it had been Neal who had introduced Henry to baseball, it had been David’s fault that he became a Yankees fan. Since the moment he learned that Henry was interest in the sport dubbed “America’s Favorite Pastime,” Emma’s brother had taken to bringing her son to every baseball game he could afford and spending the rest of his money on more merchandise than their tiny two bedroom apartment could afford.

It was David who had told Henry about the ballboy job opening at Yankee Stadium and like a fool, Emma had allowed her teenager to apply. She didn’t think he would get past the application review but two weeks later, Henry had gotten the call in for an interview which was followed by an official job offer and a celebratory dinner at Fazio’s. She wasn’t been sure how was more excited about it - Henry for having an opportunity to meet his heroes and get paid for it or David who now had an inside man on what was really going on in the Yankees’ locker room. Emma had been less enthused about it.

Though the team that spent half of its games on the road, the stadium seemed to have constant need of Henry and it wasn’t uncommon for him to come stumbling back into the apartment at one or two in the morning on a school night. Furthermore, the players had an habit of giving him more money in tips than Henry knew what to do with on top of earning an whopping $21.50 an hour. Emma nearly blew a gasket when she find out one of the players had given her son a thousand dollars to keep quiet about some girls coming into the locker room for a “private tour.” She didn’t want their boorish behaviour and outrageous spending habits rubbing off on her son. She already had Neal to contend with, she didn’t need to add a bunch of immature rich assholes to the mix. However, there were silver linings to Henry working at the ballpark. Being a ballboy required him to be on top of his grades and it kept him out of trouble for the most part. More often than not, his Saturday nights were spent cleaning bases and polishing cleats rather than going to parties. She also no longer had to worry about Henry asking for money to hang out with his friends since he made more than enough to fend for himself. Another added cherry was that nothing pissed off her Diamondbacks loving ex more than knowing their son was working for “the Evil Empire.” Still, Emma didn’t like it.

She especially didn’t like it when she saw “Yankee Stadium” on her caller ID when she was in the middle of a honey-trap operation to catch a guy who had been charged with credit card fraud.

“Hello? Is this Mrs. Swan?” It was a voice she didn’t recognise but he sounded vaguely nervous.

She bristled slightly at bit at the misnomer. “It’s Miss Swan and yes, this is.”

“Right, sorry, Miss Swan, my name is William Smee and I’m a clubhouse assistant manager over at Yankee Stadium. I’m calling in regard to your son-“ “What happened?” Emma cut him off in a clipped tone.

“There was an accident. A foul ball caught him unaware and he was knocked unconscious. An ambulance was called and he’s on his way to Bronx New Lebanon.”

Fear spiked up her spine as he spoke but she tapped it down, immediately going into crisis mode. She couldn’t afford to get hysterical. Henry needed to keep her cool. Before Mr. Smee even finished his last sentence, she had picked up her purse and was shrugging her coat back on.

“How long ago was this?”

“Twenty minutes ago. We wanted to make sure Henry got immediate attention and was looked after before we did anything else. His health is our top priority and rest assured, Miss Swan, the organisation is willing to pay any medical bills or anything-” “I literally do not care,” Emma cut him off again. “Just give me the address.”

“It’s on Tiffany Street, I believe, ma’am.”

Emma got up, so focused on the situation with Henry that she had forgotten all about her “date.” She turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Emma hissed when his grip was a little more forceful than necessary, fingers digging into her skin.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked rudely.

“My son is in the hospital. I need to go.”

“You have a son?”

“Yes. He’s fourteen and was just in an accident at Yankee Stadium. Now, let me go.”

“Look, Emma, I don’t know what your malfunction is but I know a lie when I see one. You’re wearing an old ass dress and false stones after all. How about you sit down and actually give me a chance. I’m a really nice guy with some cash to burn.”

“Listen, dude, let me go and I will forget about this.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do me, sweetheart?”

Emma let out a short humourless laugh. This guy didn’t realize how lenient she was planning on being. When she heard Henry was in the hospital, she had decided that she would let this skip go and focus on her son. Now, she wasn’t going to be so generous. On top of being a massive credit scam artist, he was also an asshole and she wasn’t going to let that fly.

She pulled out her cuffs and attached one to his wrist faster than he could blink. He stared at his wrist dumbfounded while she attached the other end to his seat. When he tried to take off, Emma tripped him. She watched in smug satisfaction as the chair landed on top of him. She placed a heeled foot on top of it to keep him in place as she took out her phone once more and called her brother. He picked up after the second ring.

“Is Henry okay?” He asked immediately, not even bothering with pleasantries.

Emma blinked in surprise. “You know about that already?”

“Yeah. It was just on ESPN.”

“Shit.”

“Where is he? I saw him get pulled off. He okay?”

“I’m heading to Bronx New Lebanon now,” Emma replied, applying more pressure on the man beneath her foot. “I need a big favor though. I need you to pick up a Mr. James Graves from Piccola Cucina.”

“On it.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” The skip growled.

“Hey! You had your chance!” She snapped back. “You should have just let me go and see my son!”

The maitre d’hotel came over with a cautious expression, holding his hands up in front of him as if he was approaching a wild and dangerous animal. Emma flashed him a smile in hopes of defusing some of the tension. He gave a tentative one back.

“Is everything okay here, Miss?” He asked nervously.

“Hi. My name is Emma Swan. I work for Nationalwide Bail Bonds Agency. This gentleman, and I use that term loosely, missed his court date and there’s a warrant out for his arrest. There’s an officer on the way. I needed to leave like twenty minutes ago because my kid is in the hospital. So, no. It’s not okay.”

The maitre d’hotel’s eyes went wide and he glanced between her and the man underneath her boot a few times, looking entirely unsure on how to handle the situation. Emma sympathised. This wasn’t the type of joint that was used to rough clientele and this wasn’t normally the sort of spot that Emma would bring her skips but James Graves had insisted on this spot, probably in an attempt to impress her into sleeping with him.

“I’ll going to talk to someone...I will be right back…”

“I’ll be here,” Emma muttered bitterly, taking out her phone and glancing at the time. She didn’t want to leave Henry alone in the hospital.

“You could still let me go...and see your kid...and I will be willing to forget all about this…” James Graves wheezed from under her.

Emma rolled her eyes. “You had your shot, buddy. You blew it. Now, you’re going to hang tight until Officer Nolan comes.”

The maitre d’hotel returned four minutes later, two large stocky men flanking him. Both were wearing black shirts and white aprons that were covered in grime; the customary mark of someone who works in the back of a restaurant. Neither of them looked happy, both eying Emma’s skip with disdain.

“Miss, I know you need to leave so I talked to some of the boys in the back who are willing to babysit your friend until the authorities arrive so you can get to your son.”

It was the nicest thing a stranger had ever done for her. She gave them her first genuine smile of the night.

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an eye on him. Go see your boy… and perhaps come back for some eggplant parm when you’re able.”

With her skip issue settled, Emma raced to where she had parked her car. Her eyes nearly bulged when she saw a parking ticket tacked to her windshield but it was nothing she couldn’t sort out with David later. It was just another annoyance and one that she needed to set aside until she saw to Henry.

The drive to the Bronx was as painful. It was as if the some unmerciful god knew how stressed she was and decided to add to it. FDR Drive was backed to hell with bumper-to-bumper traffic. She watched in frustration as the ETA on her Waze app crept up minute by minute, screaming against her steering wheel. If only she had gotten a Hummer instead of a Volkswagen Bug, then she could just crush everything in her path and be with her son already.

It took her nearly an hour and twenty minutes to get to Tiffany Street and then another ten minutes to find parking before resigning to put her car in an overpriced garage that only took cash. The men at the lot were unsympathetic to her plight. They rolled their eyes at her explanations, telling her to that the local convenience across the street had an ATM and to come back when she could actually pay them.

Needless to say by the time she finally got into the hospital, Emma was in a foul mood and was ready to go to war with anyone who got in her path. Her anger must have been plastered all over her face because anyone who saw her gave her a wide berth and the nursing staff seemed to shrink under her gaze when she demanded to know where her son was. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She just wanted to know her kid was okay.

She was led down the hall by a harassed looking nurse who was trying very hard to make small talk with her but Emma was having none of it. The nurse stopped towards the end of the hall and gestured to the last room, mumbling something about seeing to other people. She paid the woman no mind though.

She was surprised to hear laughter coming from her son’s hospital room. It wasn’t the laughter of a teenager but rather a grown man, one she didn’t recognise. Frowning to herself, she entered the room to find her son sitting up in bed and playing cards with a stranger.

Henry’s face brightened when he saw her.

“Mom! You made it! Did you get your guy?”

Emma didn’t acknowledge the question. Her attention was focused on the man sitting at her son’s bedside. He appeared to be the same age as her and dressed in the most expensive pair of sweats that she had ever seen. The New York Yankees logo was emblazoned across his chest and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms. He had messy dark hair and well-manicured stubble that seemed to enhance the line of his jaw. He was giving her a tentative smile and brushing his hands against his knees nervously. In the back of her head, Emma acknowledged he was incredibly attractive but she was more concerned with who the hell he was and why he was in her son’s hospital room.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Mom!” Henry sounded scandalized.

“Ermmm…” The man ran one of his hands through his hair. Emma noted the massive scarring that seemed to encompass webbing between his thumb and index finger and seemed to radiate in angry lines across his knuckles. He stood up and held out his other hand for her shake. “Killian Jones.”

She didn’t take it. Instead she crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised her eyebrows at him. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Henry let out a loud groan and looked like he was about have a fit.

“Mom! Are you kidding? He’s the best second baseman in the league! He has the highest on-base percentage and leads the AL in stolen bases! He’s, like, one of the top twenty best hitters! How do you not know who he is!”

Emma glanced back at the proclaimed baseball superstar and squinted a bit. Now that Henry had mentioned it, he did look a little familiar. She was pretty certain that he had seen his profile on her son’s bedroom wall. Though, he looked more intense on the poster than he did in real life. If anything, he now looked awkward and embarrassed. Killian’s face flushed under the praise and he took back the hand he had held out in order to scratch behind his ear.

“I’m pretty sure Jose Altuve would disagree with you on the best second baseman thing.”

“Okay, maybe not the best second baseman but you’re up there. You have an insane record in double plays and you play for the best team in baseball,” Henry conceded, picking up the deck of cards that had been scattered across his rollaway table.

“I appreciate the show of team spirit, Henry.”

“Okay, I get it,”she said, cutting into the bizarre display of male bonding that was happening in front of her. “What is he doing here?”

Both Henry and Killian looked uncomfortable at the question, the two of them exchanging glances. Emma felt her stomach tying itself in knots. She had a feeling she was not going to like what they had to say.

“I just wanted to make sure your boy was okay…” Killian replied slowly, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. “...and you know, make sure that there was no hard feelings or anything…”

“Excuse me?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Killian. It was a foul ball. I should have been paying attention more.”

“Perhaps but still, I would never forgive myself if anything bad had happened to you.”

“You’re the one who hit my kid?!” She hissed, looking at him with murder in her eyes. She was five seconds away from decking him in the face.

Killian seemed to sense her aggression because he put his hands out in front of him in surrender. “Not intentionally! I promise!”

“Right,” she replied in a clipped tone before turning to her son. “Do you mind if I borrow Mr. Baseball here for a moment so we can have a...chat?”

Emma wasn’t certain who looked more nervous, her son or the professional baseball player who was shifting in place like a guilty toddler.

“As long as you promise not to kill him… if he dies, we, for sure, won’t make the playoffs this year.”

“Glad to know that’s all my life is worth to you, Henry.”

“Just being honest.”

She gestured for Killian to follow her out into the hallway. He followed her but she could see the clear reluctance that embodied his stride. He reminded her of the children who sat in front of the principal’s office, waiting to be screamed at. She closed the door behind them, so Henry wouldn't listen in on their conversation. She leaned against it, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looked startled by the question. “I already told you. I’m here for your boy, Mrs. Swan.”

“You say that but I know how you assholes work. Everything with you is image. Henry keeps a tight lip on what happens in that locker room but I know that you and some of your buddies pay him to keep quiet about the nasty shit that goes on in that.”

“Pardon?” His lips formed a thin line. His nerves were giving way to irritation but Emma didn’t care.

“You heard? I’m not an idiot. You‘ really not here out of any concern for my son. You’re here to cover your ass and keep up your good guy image. I will not have you use my son as a publicity stunt.”

“Publicity stunt?” He repeated. He looked positively offended by her words. “Listen, Mrs. Swan-”

“It’s Emma. Not Miss Swan, especially not Mrs. Swan,” she cut him off. “I’m not married. Everyone at that fucking stadium always assumes I am. It’s annoying.”

“Alright, alright, fine, Emma,” he conceded, looking more frustrated. “I’m not here for a publicity stunt. Do you see cameras? Reporters? Any media specialists?”

“No,” she admitted.

“That’s because no one knows I’m here. Especially not any reporter. If anything, I’m in big trouble because I skipped media. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here except one of the base coaches and only because he asked where I was going.”

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?”

“Most definitely,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“Then why are you here?” she whispered again.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it to you but I genuinely like your son, Mis-Emma. He’s a nice kid. He’s always got a smile on his face and never complains or asks for anything except what else he can do...some of the ballboys after a while try to cut corners or try to go out partying with the team but not Henry… he’s been with us just for this season and it feels like he’s always been there…If he had been seriously hurt…” Killian paused, rubbing his hand over his jaw and looking distressed by the very idea. “...I was serious when I said I would never forgive myself.”

Emma studied him for a moment, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. She felt slightly guilty about accusing him of using Henry in such a way when he seemed so earnest in his attachment to her son.

“I didn’t want him to take the job,” she admitted. “He’s got enough going on… And now this...”

“I know.”

She looked up at him, slightly startled. “What?”

“Henry told me you were apprehensive about letting him work in the clubhouse… he thinks you only allowed it to piss off your ex.”

“Henry told you that?”

“I don’t think you understand how closely your son works with the team, love. Like I said, he’s a good kid so I tend to gravitate towards him instead of the others...we talk a lot about things...from freshman baseball tryouts to his writing...”

“You know about Henry’s writing? Henry doesn’t talk to anyone about his writing, not David, not his father.”

“Well, I think he’s more open with me about it because I’m admittedly a Babylon Five and Stargate Atlantis junkie so he’s more comfortable sharing things with a fellow nerd… from what I understand your ex was quite disparaging of his Doctor Who obsession...not that he has much taste, considering he’s a Diamondbacks fan.”

“You’re a sci fi nerd AND a professional baseball player?”

“They aren’t mutually exclusive,” he teased. “What? What did you think we only watched ESPN or Fox Sports or something?”

“Honestly, yes.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and smiling at her. Her breath caught a little and her stomach did annoyingly flips that it hadn’t done since high school. She was stunned how she went from wanting to murder him for hurting her kid to literally squirming at the sight of his face. She needed to get a hold of herself.

“We should probably go back in,” she replied. “You know, so he doesn’t think I murdered you and the team’s playoff chances…”

“Probably a good idea.”

Henry looked anxious as they opened the door, craning his neck to see past Emma. His shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw Killian, alive and well, behind her. She couldn’t help her snort of amusement.

“Did you honestly think I was going to kill him?”

“With you anything is possible, Mom. You did almost run over Carmelo Anthony that one time..”

Killian’s eyebrows rose as he regarded her with a look that was equals concerned and amused. “You almost ran over Carmelo Anthony?”

“That’s not my fault! He was on his phone and walked in front of my car!” Emma defended. “He’s lucky that I have amazing reflexes and was able to stop in time or else he would have been out for all of 2016.”

“I think at that point Knicks fans would have thanked you. I’m pretty they were trying to get rid of him by then. He was a cancer to the team,” Killian responded with a smirk.

“You follow basketball too?”

“I follow most major sports, love. Except maybe golf. But that’s because I firmly believe if you can drink and smoke while playing it, then it isn’t a sport,” Killian remarked.

“Babe Ruth used to eat, drink and smoke between innings,” Henry teased.

“That’s because Babe Ruth was a baseball god and could do whatever he wanted.”

“If you say so.”

Killian gave Henry a light shove in response. He sat down in his original seat and picked up the neatly stack cards that Henry had been fiddling with.

“Do you want to play another hand?”

“Only if Mom deals in,” Henry smiled.

“I can play,” Emma responded, taking another chair and sitting next Killian. She miscalculated the distance between them, causing her knee bump against his. Emma was vaguely surprised when neither of them pulled away from the accidental contact. “As long as I get the official story of what happened.”

Henry’s face turned red and ducked his head down, focusing on the cards Killian was dealing.

“Okay….so with foul balls, we’re supposed to give them away to fans. And when we say fans, they mean to give them away to the little kids. You know? The four to ten-year olds. Anyway, there was this family and they had two kids and the older kid really really really wanted a ball....so I gave him one and the other kid who was maybe three, I think? I’m guessing he was three, anyway, he threw a big tantrum and I just wanted him to be happy and have a good time so I decided to give him the next ball that came our way...So that’s what I did. And this kid, I don’t think he understood that you’re supposed to keep it because he threw it back on the field...The long and short of it is that I was supposed to be paying attention to the batter. You’re not supposed to do anything but watch when someone is in the box because of safety reasons but the kid threw the ball and I went to pick it up...and the next thing I knew I was on the ground... So really, it’s not Killian’s fault, Mom. It’s mine. And I’m probably going to lose my job over it.”

“You’re not going to lose your job over that, Henry,” Killian said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Things like this happen. You’re not the first and you probably won’t be the last ballboy to get hit.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” he responded, picking up his cards.

Emma was more focused on her son than on the card game, looking at him in concern.

“What did the doctor say?”

“That I have a mild concussion. They did tests and say I should be okay, but they want to keep me overnight for observation,” Henry shrugged.

“They did tests!?”

Tests and an overnight in the hospital? She could only imagine what the hospital bill was going to look like. She highly doubted her crap ass insurance plan would do much to cover the costs. She was going to be paying this off all year. She could feel it.

Killian seemed to sense her distress and played a hand on her arm. She jumped slightly at the contact.

“I’m pretty sure the organization is going to foot the bill, love. And if they don’t, I will. You don’t need to worry.”

“We’re not a charity case,” she snapped.

“I didn’t say you were. It’s just the right there to do.”

They didn’t talk much after that, instead focusing on the card game that they had started. Henry was pretty much sweeping them both but Emma had a sneaking suspicion that Killian was losing on purpose, trying to make Henry smile and laugh. It was strange to see someone interact with her son like this outside David and Neal. It did funny things to her insides.

Killian stayed with them past visiting hours, using his charm and clout as a professional baseball player to keep the nurses from kicking them out. It wasn’t until his agent, an imposing woman in a well-tailored pantsuit, came and pulled on the back of his sweatshirt, did Killian leave. Emma didn’t know who was more upset, she or Henry, that he was going.

“You’ll see me sooner than you think,” he told Henry, ruffling his hair a bit and causing the teenager to scowl at him. “You’ll be working at the clubhouse again before you know it and we still have to work on your swing. If you’re not a starting baseman by next year, I will eat my shoe.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Henry replied smartly.

Killian’s eyes cut to Emma, smile softening. “Will I be seeing you around?”

“I don’t know, do you plan on whacking my son in the head again?”

“Hopefully not,” he chuckled, ducking his head a bit.

“Then maybe…”

“Just maybe?”

“It’s better than no.”

“Too true,” he chuckled. “Well, I look forward to maybe seeing you around.”

Henry hit her in the shoulder as soon as Killian was out the door, smirking at her. “You were flirting with Killian Jones!”

“What? I was not!”

“You were too! And he was flirting back! I saw you!” he crowed. “Wait until Uncle David hears this!”

“You’re not telling Uncle David anything because nothing happened!”

“Suuuuureeeeee Mom.”

“Shut up,” she said, giving him a light shove back. “And you should be resting.”

“And you should have gotten his number.”

“Henry. Sleep.”

It turned out that Emma didn’t have to ask. Next afternoon there was a large package outside their apartment, containing a large display of flowers, a personalized New York Yankees jersey with ‘Swan’ on the back, a pack of baseball cards and an index phone with a handwritten message: Just in case, you want to make that maybe a certainty, give me call: 212-921-2012 - KJ

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfiction #cs fanfic #playing off foul #my fic #my shit #I love baseball #laura and I are gonna form the 'killian jones in pinstripes coalition'#yankee!Killian #baseball!Killian

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justanotherwriter243 · 7 years

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Complicated (Prt8) - Barry Allen x Reader

Complicated (Part 8) - Barry Allen x Reader A/N: Lmao rip. Feel free to message me if you have a question, if u would like to know more about the story, or if u just wanna talk lmao. oh also I can never find the perfect gifs 😵 Summary: After checking out the new crime scene, things start to get a bit hectic. Disclaimer: I’ve never actually watched Arrow, I apologize for that. If you notice any huge mistakes or gaps, please, message me and let me know. Constructive criticism is encouraged ! Warnings: suggestive themes, cursing, anxiety ig Word count: 2960 more or less hhhhh —

“Body was found by that bicyclist” Joe turned to the guy then back to the corpse, “Same M.O. as the first one. The victim was performing here last night. He’s a lounge singer named Julio Mendez” “Julio Mendez?” Barry inquired, “In Flashpoint he was Captain Mendez” “Flashpoint?” I cut in, “Like your parents, Flashpoint? Ramon Industries, Flashpoint?” I paused, “You and me, Flashpoint?” I raised an eyebrow at Barry. His expression changed as he seemed to remember the time he spent in the alternate timeline. It went from a sheepish look, to one of realization, to one of embarrassment. Barry turned a bright red, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. He swallowed hard before coughing. “Yeah,” he averted my eyes, “that Flashpoint” “So, in Flashpoint, this alternate timeline that you lived in, he worked at the CCPD?” Asked Julian, trying to get rid of the awkward situation I’d just created. “Yeah,” Barry answered him, he thought before speaking again, “Wait a second, the other the other vic, Stuart Holzman do we have a photo of him?” “Yeah” “Can I see it?” Barry asked eagerly. “Yeah, hold on” Julian said as he took out a his phone to show Barry a photo. “That’s him” Barry said, his face finally turning back to its normal shade. “What is it?” “He was a cop there, too” “Damn, cops gettin’ hate” I added. “So this is the second dead cop from Flashpoint?” “Yeah” “We got to figure out who this guy is” Joe obviously stated. “Well, if we hurry, there’s still a chance we can get some of the attacker’s residual DNA before this corpse disintegrates, but we’ve got to move quick” Julian said. “What are you waiting for, Allen?” I turned and teasingly raised an eyebrow at Barry. “All right,” he smiled back at me, “come on” he said to Julian. There was a whoosh and lightning trail. Before I knew it he was back and had dropped off Julian at S.T.A.R. Labs. “Did anybody see me?” Asked Barry. “Damn, I barely saw you” Said Joe. “I will never get used to that” I said. “Look, we got to get going” Joe told Barry, completely excluding me. “Where you guys heading?” I tried asking nonchalantly, but couldn’t help sound a bit jealous. Obviously, I was new here and wouldn’t be included in every hang out or get together they had, but that didn’t mean I had to be okay with it. I mean, Joe’s a great guy. Everyone here is. The thing is, they’re great together. They’re a family. They know each other. They’ve all been through so much. I’m the outsider here, and I’m making my way in one way or another. “We’re meeting up with Cecile and her daughter for lunch” Joe quickly told me and I frowned.

“Cecile?” I thought for a second, “Work Cecile?” “Uh, yeah–” Joe started, but Barry cut him off. “They’ve got this thing going,” Barry explained to me, “And we’re meeting her daughter for the first time” “Oh,” I realized, “Oh! Wow, okay–um–well, good luck I guess. You guys will be fine. Just gotta let your true selves shine for who you are. Um–I guess I’ll see you guys later then” I smiled politely at them. “Did you want to do something?” Barry quickly asked me, “Because I can skip th–” “No! No, that’s okay” I told him, “I was just going to go check out one of the apartments–” “Apartments?” Joe asked me. “Yeah, I’m finding a place to stay at. It’s just that I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get around the city easily. I’ve literally been here a few weeks–but I think I’ll be fine! You guys have your lunch thing” I tried to not show my disappointment, but Barry saw through me. “I can meet Cecile’s daughter another time. I’ll help you get around town, let me just–” “You are not skipping this lunch, Barry” Joe firmly told him, “(Y/n) just said they’d be fine, so let’s get going” Joe motioned for Barry to follow him and started walking off. Barry gave me an apologetic look before shrugging. I gave him a soft smile and a wave. “Jitters later?” He said, walking backwards. “Jitters” I nodded.

I watched as he jogged over to Joe. I watched them visibly arguing, even from where I was at. I watched as they bickered about the lunch, or possibly me. I watched as they not-so sneakily turned around to look at me. I watched as they waved at me when they noticed I saw them. I watched as they walked off and disappeared behind a corner. I watched as they left me alone.

“Of course not, Cisco!” I walked down the streets of Central City while talking to Cisco on my phone through my earbuds. Which, Cisco had made and designed both items himself. He installed a bunch of apps on the phone including a Meta Human app that could notify me of an attack. The phone had been waiting for me when I first woke up. Apparently, Cisco had a feeling I’d be needing a new one and just decided to make me one. I was grateful, but confused as to why he had made me one. My phone was in my pocket as I spoke through the mic in my earbuds. “What? Why not?” Cisco asked on the other line, “It has an amazing view and was at a good price” “Exactly, it was at a good price,” I told him, “until that douche bag found out I was loaded with money and raised the price on me” “But,” Cisco asked carefully, “are you loaded?” A lot can happen in two years apparently. “I–” I sighed, “I-I have s-some money in a bank that wa-as stored for me back when … ” I rubbed my temple as I walked, “Yes, okay? I’ve kind of been doing my own thing with the whole money situation– ”–a-and I may have parted some money aside back when,“ I dropped my voice, "back when Oliver was running the company,” I groaned, “Of course I took some money, I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it, so, yes! I am, kind of, loaded. Jesus, I’m such a bad person” I looked up at the sky as I continued to walk restlessly. “Girl,” Cisco started his pep talk, “You were doing what you thought was right at the time. You’re not your family and that was your money, too. You were being cautious and prepared” “But–”

“No but’s. Your family did the best they could and it’s up to them to decide how that goes for them. Now, you have that money for yourself so you can spend it on a nice apartment. Eat a good meal, settle down until you get your life back in check. "It can’t be that much money, right? I mean, what do you have? A couple thousand dollars?” “More like 6,” I swallowed hard. “Thousand? That’s nothing. Maybe you should’ve taken more–” Cisco tried joking around. “Million” I winced as I closed my eyes. “ … (Y/n)” Cisco said on the other line. “It’s not like Oliver would’ve realized I took anything! Like I said, he did stupid things with his money back then!” I defended myself. “You are so buying me pizza this week” he told me and I gave a weak laugh. “Shut up,” I shook my head. “I just don’t understand, you liked the place, why didn’t you just buy it?” Cisco asked me in confusion as he referred back to the apartment I was checking out earlier. “I wasn’t going to give the guy selling the satisfaction of winning me over,” I rolled my eyes, “Besides, I have a tendency to buy ridiculous things–er–that’s what my mother used to say anyways” I scratched he back of me neck. “Dude, video games are not ridiculous–they are amazing” Cisco told me and I laughed. “As great as they can be, I still haven’t found a place that I really like” I sighed, “Also, I think I’m lost” “Keep walking, another 2 blocks, and you’ll find Jitters on your right” Cisco informed me. “Really? Thank–” I stopped myself and stood in place for a second, I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. I looked around with a frown on my face, “Cisco–” “I may or may not have put a tracker on your phone” Cisco’s voice went up a pitch. “Dude,” I held my hands out in exaggeration and shrugged my shoulders, “don’t put a tracker in my phone without my permission” “It was just for precautions” Cisco told me.

“Great,” I started walking again, hopefully towards Jitters, “I don’t think I’ll ever find a place” Cisco was quiet on the other end. As I walked, I felt my phone vibrate. I took my phone out and saw it was a message from an unknown number. ’Yo u think I could help me out later ?’ I frowned at the number. “Hey, you know, if you don’t want to go through the trouble of looking at more apartments, you could just stay with me for a while?” I was taken back by the two suggestions. I was quiet for a moment. “I mean–only if you want to,” Cisco quickly added, “It’s just that, being here, waking up, missing everything–it just all seems like so much and I thought maybe–” “I’d love to stay with you, Cisco” I quickly said, “I’ll pay rent and I’ll buy you pizza and video games and” I smiled, “thank you” My phone vibrated again with another message. ’This is Wally btw lol Cisco gave me ur # Just wanted advice on speedster stuff thought maybe u could help idk’ I hummed at the message. “Great,” Cisco’s voice was enthusiastic, “I guess I’ll take that pizza tonight. Dinner is on you” I could practically hear the smile on his face. I laughed at that and we said our goodbyes. As I hung up, I went to respond to Wally’s messages. ’boiii Ur supposed to be having lunch with Cecile and her daughter stop texting me !! also y me ?¿’ I sent the messages and took the earbuds out of my ears. I held the middle of the two earbud cords and swung the tips around as I continued walking. I could see Jitters in the distance. I silently thanked Cisco for putting a tracker in my phone. I checked my phone again to see if I had gotten any new messages. Wally must type slow, huh, that’s ironic. While I was at it I went ahead and added Wally as a new contact. I started looking through my phone for things to keep my distracted while I walked. Then, I got a message. ’Idk i mean after all u did get struck by lightning, too Barry’s also telling me to pay attention to our lunch ugh u guys r the most annoying parents ttyl’ I chuckled at him comparing us to his parents. However, I was confused as to why he would do such a thing. I mean, his sister was dating Barry, wasn’t she? I didn’t bother responding, but I couldn’t stop staring at that first message. He was right. I was struck by lightning, too. Did that make me a speedster? Does it take a while for the powers to accumulate? Since I was in a coma for longer–does that mean I don’t get my powers early on? Or at all? Am I overthinking this? Am I not thinking enough? Questions raced through my head as I thought of the possibilities. What was to become of all this? My pace picked up as did my thoughts. I put my earbuds away and started fiddling with my hands to distract myself. I sighed, trying to relax myself, but only became more frantic. As I approached Jitters, I wondered if coffee was the best thing for me right now. However, I didn’t have much time to wonder. People starting coming out of the cafe in a frantic manner. I sped my way towards a woman of my age. Joe and the others could still be in there. “Excuse me!” I called out to her. She turned to face me with a sour look on her face. “Hi, I’m sorry to disturb, but what’s going on?” I said, my voice shaking. “There’s a metahuman in there, you should probably run” she told me, starting to frantically run again. “Oh! Wait! No, I’m actually–” I tried yelling and catching up to her.

“You’re actually helpless in the situation,” she said, cutting me off, “Unless you’re the Flash or Kid Flash, I suggest you run like everyone else” She then quickly ran off. I watched as she ran off, as everyone ran off. I instinctively reached for my phone to call for help–Oliver, Felicity, Thea–anyone. I stopped myself when I realized I couldn’t call them. A wave of anxiety washed over me again. I had to do this on my own. I couldn’t fall into old habits. I tried calming my breathing as I carefully walked up to Jitters’ entrance. I stayed by the wall, creeping my way up. If there was a metahuman attack, I’d have to be extra careful. I slowly peered over the glass doors. I saw a man in dark clothing speaking to a group of others on the second floor. On closer inspection, I realized it was Barry and everyone else.

As the man, assumingely the meta, approached the others, Joe pointed his gun at the man. My eyes widened and I took my gun out as I quietly walked in. As I did so, Joe shot at the man. Three bullets moved through the air in what seemed like slow motion. The three bullets disintegrated as they touched the man, and the remains fell to the ground. I stared in shock at the way the world seemed to move slowly around me. However, the feeling quickly went away as the man spoke. “Told ya,” the man said, reaching for a pillar holding up the floor everyone else was on. “Freeze” I spoke, pointing my gun at the man. The man stopped and slowly turned to look at me. He took me in, stared me down. He looked at my shaking hands and raised an eyebrow at me. I quickly glanced at Barry, giving him a signal to get everyone else out. Barry just shook my head at me, his eyes full of worry and panic. I looked back at the man and stood my ground. “They didn’t work when he did it,” The man gestured with his head to Joe, “Why should they work when you do it?” “Because I’m not going to shoot” I calmly said and the man frowned. I heard a swoosh and I felt a gush of wind. Oh, thank god, I thought. I didn’t move my gun, but I noticed Barry was still up with everyone else and that Wally wasn’t. “Stop,” Wally told the man, walking towards him. My eyes flickered between both of them. “Ah, ah, ah!” The man snickered, “You can’t touch me speedster” I noticed Wally and Barry look at each other, Barry signaling hand movements. Wally stopped and turned to me, I shrugged my shoulders. Wally rolled his eyes and gestured for me to leave. I frowned and shook my head. He gave me a desperate look and I started giving in. I backed up, not completely leaving, but out of the way.

Wally turned back to the man and started waving his hands around, I watched as, again, everything moved in slow motion. Wally created air funnels and the amount of wind caused the man to fall back and crash through the back glass door. I saw Wally normally run out of the room, while everything else still moved in slow motion. I felt myself shaking, a lot more than usual. Everything returned to its normal speed, and Barry came running towards me. His eyes were wide as he approached me. I looked down as I saw my hands moving in an inhuman speed. I dropped my gun in surprise. I felt myself start to freak out. I felt Barry grab my hands and keep them from vibrating. I looked up at him in shock. “I was struck by lightning, too,” was the only thing I managed to say. “(Y/n), listen to me, we need to get you out of here” Barry began guiding me out of Jitters. “Barry? Queen!” Cecile called out as she saw us rush out. Barry didn’t mind her as he opened the door for me. He quickly took me to an empty alley. My whole arms were shaking now, too. The rest of the world decelerated and I felt electricity run through my body. Barry seemed to be the only thing that was moving with me. “Barry, what–what do I do?” I looked at him with bewildered eyes. “We need to get you to S.T.A.R. Labs” he told me as I felt my whole body vibrate. “I can’t” I shook my head. As I did so, Barry slowed down. He stood there, slowly taking me in. I felt myself worry again. I was alone. Not even Barry could keep up with me. My legs were starting to shake harder and I needed to move. Calm down, I told myself, you’re okay–you’re okay–what would Barry do? I tried calming down my breathing. Concentrating on slowing down. When I did, I managed to understand what Barry was saying. “Run, (Y/n),” his voice echoed through my head, “run”

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everlarkbirthdaydrabbles · 7 years

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Happy Birthday titaniasfics

Happy birthday @titaniasfics! To help you celebrate in style, here’s a little bit of Everlark PwP, just for you. Enjoy! And thank you @thegirlfromoverthepond for the request.

Campfire

rated E

This is not camping.

This little slice of dirt, surrounded by giant trailers and caravans, with their generators humming and televisions flashing. That’s not camping! Who comes out to the ‘wilderness’ just to watch TV anyway?

Nothing about this trip has gone according to plan. The tent I borrowed from Gale can hardly be called a tent at all, ‘pop-up coffin’ might better describe it. My sleeping bag fits in there. Sort of. But nothing else. He, of course, has the huge tent we usually share, and a mattress on a stand, because heaven forbid Madge soil herself by sleeping on the ground.

Madge.

I should have realized, when Gale suggested inviting a bunch of friends along on our annual trip to the woods, that what he really meant was he wanted to bring his new girlfriend. And the red flags should have been flying when, instead of our typical backcountry camping, he suggested a drive up site. “But it’s right on the lake,” he’d insisted. “We can swim and fish, it’s going to be amazing!”

I guess his girlfriend prancing around in high-heeled sandals and a bikini about as big as a bandana, while refusing to actually go in the water (it’s not chlorinated!) is his definition of fun.

Who am I kidding, of course it’s his definition of fun. He looks at her like she hung the moon.

I’m not jealous, or at least, not in the way you might think. It’s just that Gale and I have been friends since we were kids. A brotherhood of sorts. Partners in crime like that are hard to find.

“What did that log ever do to you, Everdeen?” Peeta chuckles behind me. I lodge my hatchet in the end of a stump, and turn to scowl at him, but I'm pretty sure it's unconvincing.

Peeta's been, by far, the best part of the day. When Madge declared the hiking trail too long and too hot, Delly was quick to agree. Gale and Jo were more than happy to escort their girlfriends back to camp. But Peeta insisted on continuing, just him and me.

And it was amazing. I had so much fun wandering the woods with him. Chatting, or just listening to the steady racket of him stepping on every leaf and tripping over every root behind me. With anyone else it would have driven me insane. But it's hard to be annoyed with Peeta Mellark.

We went to school together, he and I, but we never talked much, never ran in the same circles. That changed when his friend Delly started dating my friend Johanna a few months ago. Since then, we've gotten to know each other over weekend gatherings and pub nights with our common friends.

And the more I get to know him, the more I get to see of his kind and generous nature, the more I like him. I don't make friends easily, but with Peeta it just feels effortless. He’s sort of snuck up on me.

“I think that tree is dead now, Katniss,” he laughs. It’s true; instead of kindling, I’ve reduced it to matchsticks. I shrug.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. Everyone is going to the amphitheatre to watch a movie instead of having a bonfire.” Another reason I’m pissed off. A movie? Who wants to spend two hours watching Bridget Jones whine and stuff her face when we could stare into the flames, contemplate our existence in the cosmos while watching the sparks float into the night sky?

“Not a movie fan,” he asks, but before I can yell I see his smirk, and I know he’s teasing me. “It is a little strange,” he says softly. “To come out here, only to to be glued to a screen. As if we’re still in the city. Such a wasted opportunity.” He looks up into the dusky sky, streaks of orange split the shades of blue and violet. The first stars stealing through.

I shrug. “I like movies, honestly,” I tell him. “But… I don’t know. I look forward to this trip every year. And this year it’s just been…”

“Disappointing?” he supplies. He’s still looking up at the sky, but he looks sad. As if it matters to him that I’m disappointed in the trip.

I’m not, or not exactly anyway. True, it’s been nothing like I’d planned, nothing like I’m accustomed to. But there have been some bright spots. All of which have involved Peeta. “Not disappointing,” I murmur, and my soft tone makes him glance my way. “Just different.”

He flashes me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me. “Different can be good,” he says. And I smile.

“Different can be good,” I agree.

He reaches for my hand. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. Apart from my sister Prim, Peeta might be the only person I'm certain I can trust. He twines our fingers together and tugs me away from the campsite, pausing only to grab his backpack. We head down the dark path that I know leads to the lake.

The moon hangs low in the sky, spilling across the water in glossy silver waves. He guides us along the shore, remarkably surefooted for a guy who couldn't traverse the woods in broad daylight without banging into every branch. Finally, he stops at a rocky outcrop where a tidy stack of split firewood waits. “What's this?” I ask.

“Campfire,” he grins. And I laugh. But something warm flares in my chest, and I have to glance away before I do something stupid like kiss him.

Peeta's a whiz with fires, coaxing a spark into a roaring flame within a few minutes. He rifles through his pack, pulling out an old camp blanket and spreading it on the rock. There's barely room for both of us, but I find I don't mind sitting pressed against him. I don't mind at all.

We watch the flames for awhile, not really talking. Then he reaches into his pack, pulling out a bag of Jet Puffed marshmallows. “Not even homemade,” I tease. “You’re off your game, Mellark.”

He affects a mock wounded expression, and then reaches back into the bag for a tupperware container. When he pops the corner of the lid I melt.

Homemade graham crackers. Of course.

He has thin bars of chocolate too, not the crappy stuff I usually buy, but good Ghirardelli chocolate, dark and rich.

It's sweet, sitting side by side, toasting marshmallows in silence. Flickering firelight plays across his handsome face, highlighting his straight nose and sharp jaw. But it's his eyelashes that I'm a little fixated on, so pale you don't normally notice them, but golden in the fire’s amber glow. And so long I can't figure out how they don't get all tangled up when he blinks.

He catches me staring, but he doesn't tease me. He just smiles.

He's perfectly controlled, turning his marshmallow precisely until it's golden on every side. I rush; mine ends up partially charred and only half melted. “How do you do that so perfectly?” I mutter as I yet again blow out the sugar-fuelled inferno on the end of my stick.

He laughs, just softly. “I think you'll find I'm a very patient man, Katniss,” he says, and his eyes twinkle. And I can't help thinking we're not talking about marshmallows anymore.

Of course, when he slides his bit of liquified sugar perfection off the stick and onto a chocolate-ladened cookie, he holds it out for me to take.

There's something in the way he's looking at me, smiling eyes soft and affectionate, that emboldens me. I take a chance and lean in, guiding his hand towards my face, encouraging him to feed me the delicacy himself.

I hold his gaze hostage as I wrap my lips around the decadent treat, watching the firelight play across the dark oceans of his eyes. I groan as the rich chocolate and gooey sugar caress my tongue, and Peeta swallows hard. When I pull back to chew, strings of glistening white marshmallow cling to my chin. His nostrils flare, and he reaches for me, almost as if his hand has a mind of its own.

He tries to wipe away the sticky bits but really only succeeds in making it worse. But I don't care; the feeling of his large, warm hand on my face is making my heart pound in the most thrilling way. My eyes slip closed, and when I can pry them open again his are fixed on my mouth, where my tongue collects the sweet chocolate remnants of our treat. I don't know how we got so close, his every breath whispers across my lips.

He starts to pull his hand away, but I wrap my fingers around his, keeping him in place, nuzzling his hand just a little. “Katniss?” My name is a question, and I answer it the only way I know how. I close the gap between us.

His lips are soft, softer than any man’s have a right to be. And after a shocked little half inhale, they move against mine eagerly.

And it's incredible.

The cookie gets tossed aside somewhere and his other hand tangles in my hair. I groan at the twin sensations of his fingers carding through my hair and his tongue stroking my own sensuously. Even his kisses are methodical, measured, as he learns what makes me whimper. He pulls back just an inch. “Is this real?” he pants. “Please tell me it's real.”

“God, I hope so,” I moan, then kiss him again. He smiles against my lips.

His arms move to engulf me, warm and steady, even as he continues to kiss me. “Do you have any idea,” he whispers as our lips part just enough to drag in gulps of clean night air. “How long I’ve wanted this?” His lips trail along my jaw, nibbling at a spot just under my ear that makes me gasp. “How long I’ve wanted you?”

I shiver, his lips and his words ignite a fire low in my belly. I lie back on the blanket and tug him to follow, until he’s hovering over me, thick forearms braced by my head. His eyes are cautious, but his pupils are blown wide and I can feel his excitement pressed against my hip. “I want you too,” I whisper, and his smile lights up the night.

Unlike other guys I've fooled around with, Peeta takes his time. He kisses me languidly, trailing his fingers over the soft skin of my belly, but no further, teasing me until I'm squirming and arching, wordlessly begging for more. I try to pull him into the cradle of my thighs, desperate to feel him hard where I need him, but he resists, smiling against my skin. “Patience,” he chides gently. “I've waited so long. I want to savour you.”

“Please touch me,” I whimper. His sharp little intake of air encourages me, I grab his wrist, loosely, so he could pull away if he really wanted to. But he doesn’t, letting me drag his fingers under my shirt until I shyly release them just below my bikini top. It’s all the encouragement he needs, that large, warm hand cups my breast and I moan.

“Oh shit, Katniss,” he gasps, his hand squeezing convulsively. “You are perfect. You are so fucking perfect.” Hearing those foul words fall from Peeta Mellark’s sweet pink lips might be the biggest turn-on of my life. Knowing it’s me making him lose control.

I throw caution to the wind and wriggle my t-shirt off entirely. Peeta’s eyes are wide in the moonlight as he gazes down at me. I’m still wearing the simple bikini top I was wearing earlier at the lake. It's nothing special, not like Madge was wearing, and I certainly don't fill it out the way Madge fills out hers. But Peeta looks at me as if I'm something exotic. He shudders, a low groan rumbling from his chest. Then his head descends, and his tongue traces the slight swell of my breast just above my bikini.

I thread my fingers through his soft golden curls, and surrender to his maddeningly slow exploration. His lips and tongue and teeth worship my small mounds before finally - finally - he nudges aside my top and exposes my tight nipples to the night air. When his lips close over one aching bud I swear I see stars. I moan and writhe, tug his hair and arch into him. I can feel his smile against my skin.

My hand sneaks up under his shirt, finding taut muscle that flexes under my fingers. Peeta’s not ripped, but he’s strong and lean and hard in all the right places. He's perfect.

His own hand slides up my thigh, slipping under my shorts to palm my ass. I'm so aroused, and seconds away from begging.

The sound of laughter and splashing comes from down the beach and we both freeze. “Shit,” Peeta gasps, angling his body to shelter mine even though no one can see us here. Protecting me. Something warm flares in my heart. “I'm sorry,” he says, tugging my top back into place. “I shouldn't--”

“Can we take this back to your tent?” I interrupt. The look he gives me is smouldering.

It's takes a few moments to smother the coals of our forgotten fire and toss our snack back into Peeta's pack. Then we're rushing hand in hand along the dark path, back to our site.

We sneak up carefully, but the others haven't returned. Thankfully. No distractions.

We crawl into Peeta’s tent, more than three times the size of my little coffin and with a comfy looking double-sized inflatable mattress in the middle. I ditch my boots, shoving my striped hiking socks into the toe, then sit on the edge of his bed before my nerves can get in the way, wrapping my arms around my knees.

Peeta creeps towards me, chuckling. “What?” I ask. In answer, he grabs my foot, pressing a kiss to my toes as I squirm.

“My favourite colour,” he says, stroking my orange-painted toenail.

“I know,” I admit with a half smile. His expression darkens, with a last kiss to my ankle he sets my foot down and cups my face in those huge hands. And then he’s kissing me, not slowly, not any more. He kisses me with barely restrained passion, stealing my breath and my senses with every shocking sweep of his tongue. It’s electrifying. It's magic.

This time, he’s the one who lays me back, and then he crawls between my thighs, the hard length of him pressing against me. I can’t help but groan, the twin sensations of his tongue thrusting in my mouth while he grinds against me are almost enough to send me spiralling over the edge already. And it’s not just that he’s so damned sexy, or so damned good at this. It’s that it’s him, Peeta Mellark. The only boy who ever caught my eye in high school, the one I thought about all through college.

I claw at his shirt, trying to pull it off, to feel the broad expanse of his sun kissed skin under my palms. He kneels over me, whipping the shirt off and affording me just a moment to appreciate his firm chest and sculpted abs, a masterpiece in the moonlight. He's beautiful, strong and broad and perfect. Then all of that glorious sun-kissed skin is pressed against me, warming me even as his lips and tongue and wandering fingers set my blood to boil.

He’s so patient, so controlled in the way he touches me, but there's nothing boring about it. He reads me like a book, and each time his mouth and hands coax me right to the brink of begging, to the point where I think I can take no more, he somehow understands, pushing further, delighting me anew.

My bikini top disappears into the dim, the rasp of his stubble on my sensitive skin in sharp contrast to the featherlight kisses he presses everywhere as he slides sinuously down my body. Then he's tugging my shorts and bikini bottom off, baring me to his greedy eyes. I pull at his shorts with far less finesse, and he acquiesces to their removal, but when I reach for him, aching to weigh the hot length of him, he retreats. “Not yet,” he whispers, and the sound is so raw, so needy, I know how desperately he wants me to touch him.

Almost as desperately as I want him to touch me.

He pushes me gently back, spreading my thighs wide. I can't even feel shy about what I think he's planning to do as he stares at me, unblinking and licking his lips. “Please,” I beg.

He locks eyes with me just briefly, just long enough for me to see his desire, desire I'm sure is mirrored in my own expression. But still he takes his time, pressing tickling kisses along my thighs, making me squirm. When those thick fingers finally part my folds, I almost come. “Fuck,” he groans, and I shiver. “You're so wet.” My retort is lost in a strangled cry of his name as his talented tongue laves a hot trail along my slit.

Never once had I ever imagined Peeta's silver tongue painting masterpieces across my aching flesh. And now that I've experienced it I know I'll never forget. That the soft groans he presses into me as he thrusts into me with his tongue and laps up my arousal will be the soundtrack to my every future fantasy. Every hot flick of his tongue guides me higher, higher than I've ever been. His lips curl around my sensitive little nub and he hums; I can do nothing but wail invocations to the nylon sky as the rapture rises up to claim me and I'm forever changed.

I'm still whimpering and pulsing with the last waves of the most spectacular orgasm of my life when he crawls up my body, pulling my boneless limbs into his warm embrace. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs against my temple. I can feel him hard against my hip, a bead of pre-come slick against my skin. I want him. I want more.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” I pant, and he nods, pushing himself up onto his knees. A shaft of moonlight illuminates his cock, proudly jutting out, long and thick and mouthwatering, as he shuffles not to his discarded shorts for his wallet, but to a side pocket in his backpack. The same backpack he'd packed for our campfire.

Only when he returns to me does he seem to realize the implication. “I, uh. I didn't mean… I mean, I wasn't planning--”

“I'm glad you have them,” I tell him, pulling him back down for another blistering kiss. “I want you, Peeta.”

His teeth glow white in the dim as he grins. “I've waited years to hear you say that,” he says. At my incredulous expression, he chuckles. “You have no idea, the effect you have.”

I have no answer for that, so I kiss him. I've always been better with actions than words.

He pulls back to sheathe himself, then crawls over me. His eyes are almost electric in the dim, huge and excited. And even still he's infuriatingly patient, taking himself in hand, teasing me with his latex-enrobed tip until finally I grab his ass and pull him against me. I moan at the feeling of him nestled between my folds, not entering me, not yet. Just sliding in all of the wetness. He must like it too, because he swears softly under his breath and thrusts against me.

Peeta kisses me softly, tracing my lips with his tongue as he rocks with me, each deliberate stroke making me gasp and mewl.

Finally, after a groaning, shuddering eternity, he shifts and positions himself at my entrance. He's big, and it's been awhile, but I'm so turned on and he's so controlled. He fills me in one long stroke, and I feel everything in me stretch - my body to accommodate his, my heart with a swell of affection for this man, this kind, beautiful, gentle man.

When he's completely buried in me he stops, head tipped back, eyes closed. I can feel the tension in his body, see how his neck muscles strain, sharp in the moon’s silver glow. “What's wrong?” I whisper.

His eyes flutter open, hooded and lust-hazed. “You feel so good,” he groans. “I just want to freeze this moment and live in it forever.”

That stirring is back in my chest, warm and curious. I want to tell him okay, that I'll allow it. The idea of being with Peeta this way forever is awfully appealing. “Please move,” I whine instead.

His face lights up, a cocky smirk replacing the awe. “You want me to move?” he teases. “Like this?” He pulls back achingly slowly, until just the tip of him is still inside me, and I wrap my legs around his thighs, trying to prevent his escape. His smile only widens. “Like this, Katniss?” He's pushing in and pulling out, just a fraction of an inch at a time, just enough to drive me absolutely mad. “Is this how do you want me to move?”

“Hard,” I groan. “I want you hard.” I swear he laughs, pulling out completely, teasing me again with just the tip of his dick, tracing my sensitive folds.

“I don't know,” he says. “I'm pretty hard already.”

“Dammit, Peeta, I want you now,” I growl in frustration, and the amusement in his expression morphs to something more carnal.

This time he fills me in one hard thrust, and I cry out. His moan is softer, but just as passionate.

This time there's no teasing, no slow exploration, no caution. This time he sets a blistering pace, and I love it. He kisses me, swallowing my cries, grunting against my lips as I arch, gripping fistfuls of his sleeping bag and locking my legs around his back.

I'm already climbing when I hear it, the telltale high-pitched prattle of Madge heading back to camp. Peeta hears it too, but he doesn't stop, doesn't even slow. Instead, he reaches up to cover my mouth with one huge hand, his lush lips next to my ear. “Can you be quiet, Katniss?” he whispers.

I lock eyes with him, molten blue irises almost obscured by fat black pupils. And I shake my head, helplessly. I'm not usually so loud. But sex has never been this good before. And even knowing our friends are returning, I don't want to stop. I'm not sure I could.

His hand stays clamped over my mouth, muffling my moans, as he pants filth into the crook of my neck. Angelic Peeta Mellark is a dirty talker. I never would have guessed, and it's the hottest thing imaginable, his words in my ear and his hand on my mouth, and the rough way he slams into me over and over.

I bury my hands in his downy curls, tugging firmly and he bites my shoulder. It's so hot and so unexpected, my orgasm hits me like a shockwave, radiating pleasure from my core to every inch of my body.

Peeta slows, prolonging my climax, wringing every drop of pleasure from me until all of my muscles slacken. Only then does he remove his hand.

He's still panting in my ear, only now the words are soft, sweet. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs. “So much better than my fantasies.” And when he comes, it's with a shuddering whimper of my name.

We lay together, boneless and breathless for a long time, listening to the crickets’ lament and the low murmur of our friends chatting just a few yards away before Peeta pulls back just enough to discard the condom. Then he wriggles the sleeping bag free to wrap around us both and gathers me in his arms again, kissing me softly until I fall asleep.

o-o-o

Birdsong filters through our nylon ceiling. A silver-grey dawn is fast approaching. I try to wiggle out of Peeta's arms, but his grip tightens. “Don't go,” he murmurs, mostly asleep, and my heart clenches. I know he doesn't mean it. Everything is so much clearer this morning; the way we snuck back to his tent like thieves in the night, how he kept me quiet, swallowing my moans even as he pumped into me. This is just a secret dalliance. It’s a cliché, really, the two single people in the group hooking up. Expected, I guess, but temporary. Better to slip away now, save us both the mortification of a walk of shame in front of our friends.

“The others will be up soon,” I whisper. I’ve never had a one-night stand before, but I’ve been roommates with Johanna for years, I know how they’re supposed to go.

His sleepy blue eyes search mine, the flare of pain unmistakable. Bewildering. “Katniss?”

“I, well. I thought you’d want me gone by then.”

“Why on earth would you think that?” I try to scowl at him, but it's hard to to appear indifferent when his very naked body is pressed against my equally bare skin. When I can still taste him. I shrug.

“I guess, I mean, well. You didn't want anyone to know. And I get it.”

“Katniss,” he breathes, all vestiges of sleep gone. “I didn't want the others to hear us last night because I know how private you are. How… pure.” He shakes his head. “This… I want so much more than just one night with you.” He cups my cheek in one large, rough hand. “You have to know that? I'd like to tell the planet about us. I would put it on a billboard or tattoo it across my chest, if you'd allow it.”

He's so earnest. So open. My doubts start to melt away. I want that too, to see where this could go. To see more of his smile, hear more of his laugh. “Okay,” I murmur.

“Okay?”

“Maybe not the tattoo,” I smile. “But the rest… I'll allow it.”

“Yeah?” he grins.

“Yeah. I really like you, Peeta.” His soft laugh dances across my cheek as he tilts my face to kiss him.

“I really like you too.” And snuggled together, we slide back into slumber.

#Everlark birthday drabbles #titaniasfics

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idealisticrealism · 7 years

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Blindspot 2x21 recap

(Aka the one where Sandstorm takes the NYO)

So it’s been like five days and I’m still screaming internally over how FREAKIN AMAZEBALLS this episode was. Tbh if I didn’t have to make sure I survive to see the finale, I probably would have died already. Like seriously, this show is 100% back to its old self, and with a VENGEANCE. Thank god for a guaranteed season three...

Anyhow, more screaming below the cut.

Aaaahhh nooo my babies, please stop, I mean I know siblings are meant to fight but not like this!! And ughhhh he's really actually trying with the whole killing her thing but tbh I'm kinda proud that Jane still wins? Our girl is the Warrior Queen, no one can defeat her. Not even when she’s pulling her punches like she is now. And ugh she knocks him out just as the detail gets in there-- you seriously need to work on your response time, dudes, though I guess it's good you weren't any earlier or you would have probably shot Roman which would have been completely unacceptable. But ugh he's regained all his memories from this fight, and now knows everything she's done... ughhhhh my baby boy please just think things through, because she really truly loooooves youuuuu. I swear. Also wow his biceps look amazing in this shirt? Ugh but then Jane comes to see him in the now-spartan cell (I guess all his stuff went with him to the safehouse) and ugh she’s all cautious and worried and ughhhhh he literally hates her and no matter what she says he just thinks it's more lies-- and tbh I feel like between this and the whole Emma thing with Weller, Jane is going to be 100% honest for the rest of her life bc she's already experienced too much pain due to lies. But ughhh I don't think I'll ever get over how much Luke just nails Roman's anger and pain??? The prowly way he walks, the deadness in his eyes as he tells her that the more he remembers, the more he hates her?? And then just turns his back on her and ughhhhhh my poor babieeeeesss let me hug you bothhhhhhh. Surely Roman must think about things and realise she was genuine, though? Although I guess he feels kinda like Weller did when it was revealed Jane wasn't Taylor; that just because part of it was a lie, everything must have been. And ughhh my baby is so heartbroken and walks out into the corridor and ugh Weller is right there waiting for her. I bet he escorted her down there in the first place and ugh man I wish we'd gotten to see when he first got there and was briefed on what happened? Like how terrifying must it have been for him to get that call, to think that Jane had nearly been killed by the man that HE had sent home with her? And at the same time he would be devastated for her bc I bet she was literally in shock as she robotically explained what happened and he could already see how much this was going to destroy her. And so when she comes out, he's still hovering there, waiting-- like I guarantee he was ready to go in and pull her out if it all sounded like it was getting too much. And now he stares at her with his big sad eyes and tells her how sorry he is, and then she tells him it's his and Nas' fault, and for a moment he looks like he wants to argue, but he also understands that she needs somewhere to place some of her blame (because god knows she's already shouldering enough of it herself) and so he doesn't try to defend himself, bc he knows she's not wrong. If she needs to blame him, he'll let her. He’ll help her in any way he can. But when her voice breaks as she insists that Roman could still be useful, he knows he has to be tough, and tells her that Roman's dose is wearing off and he's reverting to who he was. He needs Jane to accept that now, before her hope slowly kills her. But ugh it must be slowly killing HIM to see her upset like that and yet not reach for her?? I feel like he was seriously about to do just that when his phone buzzed about Pellington. Ugh, they never get a damn moment alone...

Oohh Zapata has rocked up in the lab, and uh-oh, I bet she's about to embark on her little crusade to break Parker by breaking the rules. And then ooh Reade's there, awkwardly ducking in to say hi since they already saw him going past and he couldn't very well ignore them haha. And Patterson's so happy to see him and so supportive and then he tells them that he put in for a transfer??? What???? And oh god Zapata's face just drops and ugh it's clear he didn't mention this at all last night and nooooo all she asks is how long he'll be at the new position and the answer is FOREVER and ughhhhh she just looks like she just got sucker punched and nooooo Reade you can't gooo! We need the dream team together!!!

Aaaahhhh Pellington is shutting down Jane's case (again), both the tattoos and Sandstorm-- and Weller looks like he's barely keeping himself in check, which explains why he looks to Jane to steady him, and okay firstly I love that she's actually in here too?? Like I thought this was going to be a meeting just between the Big Boys, but lbr Weller and Jane are kind of a package deal again nowadays haha. And then Pellington says they're going to put a public face to Sandstorm-- Shepherd, AND Roman. Which means that literally every law enforcement officer in the country will be hunting them both. Shit. And he seems undecided about what he's going to do with Jane-- hold on, so, what? You're going to ignore all she's done for the team and turn your back on her? Maybe throw her in jail? And ugh she doesn't even seem to care about her own precarious fate, she just tries to convince him not to turn on Roman, and then she literally starts shouting at him, making Weller panic a little bit bc honey please don't piss off the man who could have you thrown behind bars with the wave of his hand-- but it's kinda lucky (and also unlucky) that she does, bc when she tells Pellington that Roman's regaining his memories, that actually changes his mind. Which is great in that Roman won't be one of the targets of Sandstorm... but terrible bc Pellington now wants him to go to the CIA for 'acceleration of his recall'. Yeah, we all know what that means. And then Pellington is outta there and ughhhh Jane literally begs Weller to help Roman and ughhhh he knows there's nothing they can do and he is hurting for his wifey and wow these guys are having a really bad start to the day aren’t they

And then Zapata gives them one bright spot--- they have leverage on Parker. Devon's pregnant. Wait actually pregnant tho, or did Zapata make it up and then trick the others so that Parker would believe them? I love that all three of them go into the interrogation room and tag team him (I'm very much ignoring Weller's contribution bc it only reminds me of the whole Allie situation ugh), and ughhh Parker tries to brush it off but Jane convinces him and he tells them about the Sandstorm warehouse, but will only give them the exact location once Devon is safely on a plane to London. I can't tell if he's playing them or not?? And they all know it could be a trap but they've gotta try anyway, so when he gives them the address, Weller and Jane take a bunch of FBI dudes, leaving Zapata to keep interrogating Parker. And ugh as much as I enjoyed the 'let’s split up bc you're the only one I trust' thing last week, I really love seeing them enter side by side, guns up and ready. And ooooh here's the structure that Sandstorm has been building-- is it a replica of the NYO, a la Ocean's 11, like I suggested in a past recap?? Ughhhh it is! God this must be so weird for them and aaaahhh they realise it's a training ground (close, guys, but that’s not all it is) and that they're about to take down the real NYO and aaaahhhhh their signal is being jammed so they can't warn anyone. And then just as they're about to pull out to get back to the NYO, a sniper starts taking out their guys. Weller takes him down though bc remember he's Mr Crack-Shot, and Jane notices a weird red X on the floor in the fake-gym. What does it meaaaaan?

Meanwhile back at the NYO, a couple of Sandstorm guys have already snuck in disguised as technicians and are doing something nefarious with the power grid. Reminds me of Weller in the prison... Not so fun when the tables are turned, eh? Anyway Reade's with Dr Sun, asking her to clear him psychologically so he can take the transfer. And you know what, she actually seems pretty on the ball right now? "Needing help doesn't preclude you from helping others" like daaaamn that's some wisdom right there. And it's definitely true in my own experience-- you know how many doctors I've met who have mental, emotional, or social issues of their own yet still give their all to help others?? And then ugh when she says that he can go, but he'll still be Edgar Reade when he gets there. And wow I am actually impressed rn? This is a rollercoaster in of itself lol

Ugh Jeller are racing back to the NYO and frantically trying to call anyone inside to warn them but it's all still jammed. Which means the attack has already begun. Weller calls the NYPD to mobilise them for help but argh it may already be too late. And ugh Pellington walks into the lab to demand all the info they have on Shepherd/Sandstorm and hahaha I love that Patterson's first response is to question whether Weller knows about it, despite Pellington being HIS boss and being able to do whatever he wants regardless of how Weller feels about it. Lbr tho man, literally everyone in the NYO would follow Weller over you if it came down to it. And Patterson is belatedly like 'oh yeah you're actually the boss-boss' and so she’s gonna put it all on a hard drive for him-- but tells him it would actually be quicker if she did the data migration she'd already been planning, and all it would mean is that her servers would be stuck in boot mode for 30mins while it was happening. But then their conversation gets derailed by an official emergency alert, and Patterson brings up footage of the bullpen to see active shooters attacking people. Pellington gives the order for evacuation, and then says he'll join the armed response team and take out the shooters. Wow, I think this is the first time I've actually felt genuine respect for you, sir. Nice. Instead of evacuating, Zapata goes straight for the lab, because of course she does. She knows that that's where Patterson will still be, and she won't leave her girl. And then she sees a glitch in the videofeed, realising that it might have been tampered with-- just as Pellington and the strike force get out into the bullpen, which is completely normal and shooter-free. Awkwaaaard. But because the evacuation protocol was initialised, all the external doors were unlocked, now allowing Sandstorm to come in. And ughhh now it really is a showdown-- Pellington and the FBI vs Shepherd and Sandstorm, and for a moment there's just a bunch of shouting about 'you surrender/no you surrender' then some dumb guy knocks over a coffee cup and all hell breaks loose and everyone is shooting and ughhhh Paterson and Zapata are stuck there watching and Zapata is about to run out to help but Patterson won't let her bc it's literal suicide, and so she does the only thing she can and seals in the Sandstorm peeps. Ughhh. Pellington is crawling for his gun, and the rest of his team are dead or wounded. Shepherd calls him by his first name and tells him that that didn't need to happen-- and okay did these two know each other or something?? Like there was the way he called her 'Major-General' and now her using his first name?? And ugh she demands his access code and I'm actually super impressed that he still won't give in, just tells her she's under arrest, and wow this dude actually has way bigger balls than I gave him credit for? Don't tell me I'm about to start liking him just before he dies?? And ughhhh Patterson and Zapata are still there, stuck watching, as Shepherd kills their agents one by one and ugh the tears running down their faces and ughhhhh on one hand I know that Pellington's refusal means the death of his agents, but still... he's protecting thousands (if not millions) of lives by preventing anyone getting access. I feel like Weller would have done the same, though it would have destroyed him. Though if Shepherd had threatened Jane... then I don't know. Maybe he would have given in. Glad we don't have to find out. And ugh Pellington tells them all that this is how they-- the good guys-- win. By staying strong. By sacrificing themselves for the greater good. And then ughhh Briana stands, and tells her she knows Weller's code, and honestly I can't blame her. She's saving her own life, but also everyone else in the room-- friends, workmates. And I don't think she has quite the understanding of just what Shepherd could do with access to Patterson's lab. Who can really know what they themselves would do when faced with that choice? But ughh I actually feel really sad for Pellington, he knows that they have just failed so many civilians and he tried his best and now he's about to die. Dammit, man, how dare you make me respect you right before you die??? I guess I should also apologise now for always assuming you could be a Sandstorm mole... my bad. And ughhhh Patterson and Zapata are feeling so helpless bc Weller's code overrides Patterson's and now Sandstorm has free access to everywhere-- and is heading right for them. And ughhh I love that they know, they already know that they can't win, that they are just heading for death, but they fight anyway-- Zapata's immediate response is to get guns and go down in a hail of bullets, because of course it is. Patterson fights back in another way-- starting the database migration to slow Shepherd down, utilising one of the only tools they have. And then together, they go to the armoury, even knowing that one of Shepherd's teams is on their way there right now. Sidenote: screw you, Borden, for giving these guys a full blueprint of this place. You traitorous asshole.

Ughhh Jane's biting her nails and Weller confirms that Sandstorm has the NYO-- maybe even for Phase 2. But the NYO is Weller's kingdom, and he knows it better than anyone. He knows that there's a sub-basement access tunnel from previous construction. He and Jane are gonna save their people or die trying.

Well, Patterson's delaying tactic has worked, pissing Shepherd off. Also dude, it's 5% complete when she arrives, and Patterson said earlier that it would take about 30mins total to complete. To get to 5% would have taken about a minute and a half, which means that's how close behind Patterson and Zapata Shepherd was. Aaaargh. And now Parker's there, saying that 'Remi' and Weller took Devon to a blacksite. Mmmhmmm, way to cover your butt, Mr Slimy. And ugh Shepherd expected Weller and Jane to be there-- what if they had been?? What was her plan for them?? Nothing good, I’m sure. But haha he says that at least now they won't be a problem. Think again, bucko! Meanwhile Patterson's being problematic enough on her own. I'm so proud. But wait they have targets in four timezones?? What and where??? And so they're about to hunt her down (ugh stay away from my baby) when Parker finds Roman on the screen instead. Ugh, stay away from my other baby!

Ugh my girls in the armoury with their vests and guns makes me simultaneously so proud and also want to sob. My babies are making their stand. And then the door opens and they nearly shoot the intruder-- but it's just Reade, here to stand with them and defend their home. Patterson explains that Shepherd's after the lab, realising that her computers have access to the Homeland Security servers. Which is very, very bad, for reasons I don't entirely understand but I'll take her word for it. And so she proposes going to the server room so she can try to divert auxiliary power and fry her computers before the migration completes, thus locking Shepherd out. Ugh, the sacrifices my baby is willing to make... those computers are HER babies. And ugh her talking about the chances of it succeeding: "80%... 75%... closer to 60 if I'm being honest." and ughh why must even the humour in this show be heartbreaking? But she doesn't wait for permission; she just goes and the others follow. Tbh without Weller (or Jane, the unofficial next in line) there, Patterson is now the team leader, regardless of actual hierarchy. Lbr, the other two would follow her anywhere.

Idk where Weller found this fire-stick thing but I'm happy he has it. They're breaking into the sub-basement now, and ughhh Jane is so worried about the team and what might have happened to them, and she's beating herself up about lying to Roman and causing him to be in that cell right now, completely vulnerable if Shepherd decides to punish him for his betrayal of her. And Weller tells her that she had to lie, because she knew what he was and was scared of what he'd do if he learned the truth. And he looks up at her as he says it, and hmmm this is interesting, bc Jane only ever lied to Roman bc Weller and Nas made her. She was going to tell him the truth. Now who else has she lied to recently that she only did it bc she was afraid? Ah yes. I remember. Well, good to know that Weller understands her choices and is making it clear to her that he forgives her for them. He needs her to hear it, because he knows that one or both of them could be dead within minutes. Ughhhh. And she worries that if Roman's turning back into Old Roman, then will the same happen to her? Will she turn back into Remi (her greatest fear?) and ugh he promises her that it won't happen and that they'll do everything they can to save Roman along with the others and ughhhh. They've broken into the sub-basement-- ew, it reminds me of Oscar's grimy dungeon-- and then suddenly they spot four Sandstorm guys, and ugh they communicate with hand signals and basically pincer-manoeuvre the dudes and take them out in about two seconds because they're badasses. And that would be great, except the dudes were there guarding a shit-ton of explosives (that's the technical term). Well I guess we know where some of that HMX went? And aaahhh Sandstorm is gonna take down the whole building. Well, shit.

Aaaahhh my lil warrior babies are defending their home by destroying their own servers from within, and ugh the lives of SO MANY people literally rest on their shoulders (specifically Patterson's) rn?? Like holy shit if she doesn't get a message through to the DHS, the other sites will have zero warning of the attacks about to take place. Also ugh I've mentioned before how Patterson is literally one of the most powerful people in the FBI, but this proves it-- with her computers, she possesses access to several other major agencies. Literally if she wanted to, she could cripple the entire country at any time. She could have done exactly what Shepherd is trying to do with just a couple of taps of her screen. And she's what, barely past thirty? Like okay I have a job where I have some small measure of power over life and death, but this kind of scale is HUGE. Patterson literally has the keys to the kingdom handed to her, and could be the world's biggest supervillain-- but instead she protects everyone to the best of her ability, even now, when it may very well lead to her death. No one will ever convince me that Agent Patterson of the New York Office of the FBI is not some kind of cult figure in the world of government agencies. I bet her name has even become a common term for absolutely owning something through skill and ingenuity: "I'm gonna pull a Patterson"/"I'm Patterson-ing this biatch". For real, Shepherd, you have no idea who you're up against...

Weller delicately disassembling the cover of the bomb detonator while Jane stands guard over him with a huge-ass gun is entirely my aesthetic. And then he explains how to disarm it-- I love that he knows this, our boy sure paid attention in class-- and when he tells her he'll need her to do it (because of his giant meat-paws, as Rich lovingly named them), she doesn't hesitate. And then ugh he talks her through it and I love that they're BOTH needed for this. Jane wouldn't have known what to do without him, and he couldn't have physically done it without her. They're two halves of a whole, the perfect partnership. And ugh I love that she trusts him to guide her and he trusts her to be able to do it. And ughhhh he compares it to playing Operation and she's all "Weller this is a terrible analogy I've never played that game" and he's all "c’mon honey you can do anything ilsym babe"* (*paraphrasing). No but actually he's so cute with how he reassures her, using humour to settle her, and ugh the little look she gives him like 'you're such a giant dork and god I love you for it'. But don't worry anyway Jane, I've never played Operation either, and I've assisted in actual operations without any issue. You got this.

Aaand Shepherd's down with Roman. He's heard all the alarms-- I wonder what he thought was going on? I wonder if he was worried for Jane? But anyway he remembers everything, including Shepherd, and ugh she says that everything she's done she's done for love, and tbh that's true. Love of herself, and her own conviction that she is in the right and everyone else is wrong. Newsflash, lady. Pretty much every terrorist who ever lived thought they were the ones in the right. But ughhhh then she says one of the few things I will give her credit for being right about-- that Roman chose Jane over her. JANE, not Remi, because as she says, Remi is GONE. THANK YOU, psychopath lady. Remi ceased to exist the moment the zip coursed through her system, and lbr, that was likely what she intended all along. I don't know the particulars of how or why, but I firmly believe that by the time Phase 1 & 2 were being developed, Remi lost her faith in Sandstorm, and in herself. I'd like to think it had something to do with her surveillance of Weller, and I hope that someday we'll find out. But the fact remains that in the end, Remi was ready to give her life to the cause. Not to Shepherd's cause; to her own, which was to stop Shepherd and save not only her brother, but Kurt Weller, and the country itself. I strongly believe that if Asshole Oscar hadn't killed Markos, he would have been able to fulfill his side of her plan and tell her everything. Maybe if that had happened, though, Jane would have run off with him to stop Shepherd, and Weller and the team would have continued their lives without her ever being more than a blip in their existence. And regardless of all the bad that came along with her, I'm glad things happened the way they did. (Except the CIA part. Screw you, Keaton.) But anyway ughhhh Roman says he chose Jane bc she wasn't forcing him to choose. She gave him free will and agency, whereas Shepherd always tried to enforce her own agenda. You can see though from the fact that she offers for him to rejoin her, that she's desperate for that connection back, for someone she has a relationship with other than that of Commander and soldier. Family. Well guess what, lady, you could have had a loving family and lived a normal happy life, but instead you chose to be a mass murderer. Forgive me if I don't feel at all sorry for you, you human stain.

Ughhh someone save me from Weller's whispered 'good, Jane' as she slowly pulls out the detonator pin. He can feel how tense she is (after all, she has both of their lives plus the lives of everyone in the building depending on the steadiness of her hands) and he reassures her, staying right there in front of her-- not crowding her, but reminding her that he's there with her-- and then ugh when she gets it out safely he gives her this approving grin and she lets out this huge breath and rests her head against the block of explosives and ugh these two are literally the cutest. Supportive hubby Weller is one of my fave Wellers tbh. But there's no time to rest-- he's certain there's more bombs, and Jane remembers the red X from the Sandstorm training replica. And ugh they don't even hesitate before throwing themselves straight back into danger to protect everyone and ugh I love them so much

I love how much it upsets Shepherd when she discovers that the sub-basement bomb is now offline. Take that, you evil cow! And then she sees Jane and Weller on the monitors, and it's like that's right biatch, you are being thwarted by your two former favourites. Not only will they never follow you, but they will beat you. And ugh she sends a team to kill them and Roman doesn't look at all comfortable with it. I wonder whether that's because he still loves his sister, or-- as has been suggested by others, including in @gypsyscarfwoman’s amazing fic-- that he feels like he owes a debt to Weller for what he did to Emma. Hopefully a bit of both??

Ughhhh back in the server room, Patterson knows that all her computers are now back online, and Zapata tells her to go ahead and surge the lab. And ughh she hesitates, and at first it seems like she's just having trouble facing the thought of killing her computers (her babies), and Reade impatiently tells her they'll get her new ones-- but that's not it. Surging the lab would effectively paint a target on their backs, bringing Sandstorm right to them. If she does it, she basically signs their death warrants. And if the bad guys come quickly, she may not get to complete the surge before they're all killed. And then ughhhhh just let me die bc Zapata looks at Reade and Reade looks at Zapata and then Reade tells Patterson that they'll buy her as much time as they can and Zapata looks at Patterson and gives her a little nod and tells her to start it and ughhhhhhh they know they're about to die and that was their goodbye to Patterson-- a 'we can't save ourselves but maybe we can help you save others' and ughhhhhh my baby manages not to break down and instead gets right down to it, further ruining Shepherd's day when she instantly recognises that Patterson is about to out-manoeuvre her. And ugh Parker's already leading a team their way as Reade and Zapata set up a barricade (Do you hear the people sing??) and ugh this might be their final minutes together and Zapata chooses to give him shit about ditching them for Quantico and basically telling him she does not at all approve haha. And ughhh even as she's giving him a hard time about it she's also reminding him what a good agent he is and ugh I love the love these two have for each otherrrrr

So Jane was right (as she so often is) and the other bomb is in the gym. I love their perfectly coordinated sweep of the room, and then Weller crouching to remove the outer cover of the bomb detonator for her while she checks behind the bomb for any sneaky baddies. Nice. And then he hands over the reins and moves to stand guard over her-- the stakes are higher on this one, since they're no longer in a secluded basement with the enemy team already dead. Right now, they're sitting ducks. Jane gets right to it, now a veteran at this, and Weller only glances over briefly to make sure she's going okay, confident that she can do it but ready to support her if she needs it. All is well-- until they hear the kill-team approaching and know that they're busted. Jane makes the split second decision, with Weller instantly following her orders as she tells him to go, to meet the bad dudes somewhere that is more even territory, tactically speaking, rather than as the proverbial fish in a barrel that they are now. And ugh right now she has her hand in the jaws of death and he's about to walk out into the same when he pauses and says her name, and for a moment they lock eyes and ughhhhh "Don't die."/"You too". And ugh that was so THEM? Like they each refuse to believe that this will be the last time they see each other, and they know that they'll both fight like hell to make sure it isn't, because they've barely even had a chance to start the life they're gonna have together and it sure ain't ending here. And then ugh Weller goes into Super Agent mode, taking out one of the Sandstorm dudes before they even know what hit them, then sprinting across the room and body-slamming two of them at once while shooting the other, only to grab one and use him as a shield before beating the crap out of another, then tackling another and wrestling his gun off of him just in time to kill the one who was about to kill Jane. And ugh poor Jane, she had to focus on steadily removing the detonator even as she could see everything that was happening, knowing that any one of the many gunshots could have found Weller, meaning not only that she would lose the man she loves, but that she'd be left alone and completely exposed. But she manages it, disarming the bomb and looking up at a panting Weller, who is da bomb, tbh. Take that, Shepherd! You sent five men to kill one, and he took them all down. Bam! Ugh and Jane's little 'thanks' is so cute, like omg could you two just freakin' dive into each other's arms already, you know you want to!! I mean, let's not pretend that that little 'don't die' wasn't just a shortened version of 'don't die because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I plan that life to be more like 50 years than just the next 5 minutes'?

~~Will you join in our crusade, who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see? Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be freeeeee....~~ Okay yes, I did have to pause my recapping to go listen to some Les Mis because of this. I'm just getting a lot of feels (and literal goosebumps) about these two and their sacrifice, okay?? And ugh Parker's team is on them and bullets are flying and they might be dead any second now and Zapata is still snarking about Quantico (while also crouching in tight jeans and heels wow #iconic), and he snarks back about writing her a recommendation letter and ugh I love these two and the fact they both know that the only way they can cope with this is with sass and ugh save me. And then Patterson fries the system and everything blacks out for a moment, and then the lights come back on they reveal all of the Sandstorm dudes are down. Wait, guys, wait! Havent you heard of a term called 'playing possum'?? I don't care if it seems dishonourable, please shoot the crap out of those bodies before you leave the safety of your barricade! And ughhhhhh they juuuust start to grin at each other, almost believing they really made it, when FREAKIN' SLIMY-ASS PARKER SHOOTS MY BEAUTIFUL BABY. HOW DARE YOU SIR, I ALWAYS SAID DEVON WAS FAR TOO GOOD FOR YOU. And ughhhhh the shock and rage on Reade's face as he fills him with bullets is so intense ughhh. And ugh my baby is only concerned about Reade even while she's bleeding and okay okay at best guess the shot looks like it got her in the shoulder? Which in reality could very easily be deadly but in TV land generally means you'll be just fine (let's not forget that both Jane and Patterson have been shot in the abdomen in the last few months and were in fighting form like 2 days later), so I'm not too worried. But ugh speaking of my other baby Patterson, she's all alone in the dark, frantically dialling DHS to warn them because she needs to save as many people as she can, all while having no idea whether Sandstorm has already killed Reade and Zapata or how much time she herself has left to live. Ughhhhh seriously can I hug her rn bc we both need it

Given that we know how pissed Shepherd gets when things don't go her way, I'm very suspicious of her 'meh' attitude towards her plans being ruined rn. What else does she have in store?? And ugh then she uncuffs Roman (keeping the cuffs tho which feels weird? Maybe she's just into recycling? Or souvenirs?) and then even offers him a gun?? And tells him that staying means being locked up alone in a cell for the rest of his life and noooooooo Roman she's wrong! Jane will fight for you! And ugh the first thing he does is aim the gun at her, and ugh SHOOT HER ROMAN. She doesn't love you, she doesn’t even deny it when you accused her of controlling you your whole life. And ugh she says that losing Remi was an inherent risk of the plan that they all accepted. Yeah, idk about that. I mean I totally believe Shepherd was willing, but I doubt Roman accepted it easily. As for Remi herself, well, I already said that I believe she went into it with the hope of coming out as someone new, hoping for the chance to finally become the person she should have been, instead of the one Shepherd warped her into. I think Jane's dream was wrong. I don't think, if her two selves could meet in a dream, that Remi would see Jane and try to kill her, to take back over. Instead, she would just look at her with tears in her eyes and whisper 'thank you'. And then she would look behind Jane, where dream-Weller and Dream-Roman are standing, and she would tell her to take care of them. And then she'd close her eyes and fade away, at peace at last. Because she'd spent her whole life as a prisoner of who she was, and it was only in letting herself be erased and replaced that she could finally be free at last.

But anyhow that's speculation for another time. With her warning given, Patterson has raced out of the server room to find her friends, initially relieved and then panicked as she sees Reade crouching over Zapata. And ugh she races back to radio for help. And ugh she must just want to collapse in a sobbing heap when she hears Weller's voice and discovers that he and Jane are in the building. Mom and Dad are here. They'll fix everything. The kids have done their best, and now they get to hand over the responsibility to the grownups. And ugh speaking of family bonds, Roman steps out into the hall right in front of Jane and Weller, and she immediately drops her gun, looking as stunned to see him as he is to see her. And then he raises his gun and shoots right at them-- or does he?? Like yes, Weller immediately shoves Jane through a doorway and to safety, but how did Roman, trained sharpshooter, not hit them with either of the shots he got off before that?? Because he WASN'T AIMING FOR THEM. He aimed wide, just enough to look like he was trying to kill them, while actually sending them into cover before Shepherd could fire at them. He knew his side outnumbered theirs, and so did the only thing he could to protect them without having to turn on Shepherd and try to kill both her and her men. He and Shepherd flee into Borden's office while Weller and Jane take out the last of the Sandstorm guys, joined moments later by their own backup team (better late than never, guys, tho lbr these two badasses don’t really need you). And ugh she tells Weller that they won’t surrender, and the understanding passes between them that this will be shooting to kill. He locks his eyes with hers, and tells her to take Shepherd.Her unsteady breath and tiny 'thanks' kills me. He would never make her kill her own brother, and we all know that he's going to do whatever he can not to kill Roman either. And she's right there with him as they go in-- instead of sending the backup guys, they're both through the door first. But seriously dude that smoke is super dangerous for them, obscuring their vision in a way it wouldn't for Roman and Shepherd, meaning that they would be totally vulnerable to being shot before they even see their targets. But actually there’s none there to be seen; I assumed they escaped out the same air vents that Jane and Patterson crawled though in the lockdown ep, since Borden clearly knew about those from that time, but instead, the sneaky bastard had actually cut a hole through the wall behind a panel, pre-engineering their escape. Dammit, Borden, why you gotta keep hurting us even from beyond the grave? I definitely get how Patterson feels rn...

Ugh, the calm after the storm. Jane is standing near Weller-- I have a feeling they haven't been more than a couple of yards from each other since this whole thing happened, a subconscious connection of both protection and reassurance-- as he looks down at Pellington's body, and ugh they may have both had their issues with him, but they never wanted this. And then Patterson joins them like a timid puppy, telling them that Shepherd tried to attack six other buildings all over the country. Their efforts prevented four of them, but couldn't stop the other two-- but all civilians were evacuated in time and the law enforcement casualties were minimal. They're still shaken over it, naturally, but it's a better outcome than they could have hoped for. Jane looks almost near tears as she realises that they saved thousands of lives. And they did. But Weller's right; that's not what people will remember. People always look for someone to blame, and don’t necessarily always care if it's the right person. This poor team has been through hell today, and though they did save thousands, there were plenty of their own that they couldn't save. Lbr the bullpen is going to have a very 'Empty chairs at empty tables' vibe for a long time.

Omgggggg. They're in the cell and Weller is fluffing the pillow and all I can think is BLUE SHIRT BLUE SHIRT BLUESHIRT BLUESHIRTBLUESHIRTBLUESHIRTTTTTTT. AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH. IT'S HAPPENING. And ugh Weller apologises that she can't go home-- everyone else can, because they're not in danger of being murdered by their mother or brother (well, as far as we know; maybe they have a complex family situation too). Tbh I feel like Weller is totally fine with her staying; this building is now a fortress, and there's probably nowhere safer for her to be. Plus, he's now kinda the big boss, and will no doubt be staying in his office (not forgetting he'd be a main target too), putting him only moments away if she needs him. And ugh now that they're out of the firefight and reality has settled in, she can't think of anything but how her family is responsible for all of this death and destruction, and how she herself played a role in bringing it about. Not to mention that Roman, one of the people she loves most in the world, turned on her, shot at her, and fled with Shepherd, choosing to be a terrorist rather than stay with her and fight for good. And that's where her real fear comes in-- what if the same will happen to her? What if she's just a time-bomb, ticking down to the moment when the zip wears off and Remi reawakens? What if one day she could suddenly lose all that she has become, could snap and turn on the team, on Kurt, and have no control over it? It's her Remi nightmare all over again, except this time she's faced with the possibility of it becoming reality. Ugh how awful must that be, to live with that potential death-sentence over your head? But ugh Weller won't let her think like that; he immediately reaches out, and ugh her voice hitches almost imperceptibly as his hand covers her knee and she fixes her eyes on his, needing to hear that it will all be okay, and he tells her that they aren't their families and she shudders and looks away and you can practically see the 'but what if I am?' that runs through her head, and he turns to her, voice more insistent as he tells her that he knows her heart (asdfghjkl of course he does, bc it's the match of his own; he knows her as well as he knows himself) and ughhhhh then let me die because he PUTS his HAND over her HEART. Just like she did with his all those months ago; it was her starting point, the symbol of her journey of becoming Jane, becoming the person she truly was. This is her. The tattooed FBI consultant who saves people on a daily basis and whose heart of gold belongs to Kurt Weller. That is who she is, not a cold and calculating terrorist who only wants to watch the world burn. "[Remi] is not who you are,' he tells her, and he's right. She's his Jane, and always will be. And ugh she holds his hand against her chest, head down and eyes closed, keeping him from pulling away, needing that reassurance. Needing that contact. And then she looks up at him almost pleadingly, like she's so desperate for him to be right, and so needing the reassurance of his touch, of his love. And he sees it, understands it, because he needs her too. And he never looks away as he shifts his hand to cup her jaw, and ugh the way her hand covers his and her tear-filled eyes find his and her chin trembles and okay it's super faint but I am so sure he shakes his head just a fraction and whispers 'it's not', and ugh I'm also convinced that he pressed his fingers just lightly against the back of her neck in like a tiny 'come here' gesture and she's barely fighting off the tears as she does, finally letting herself give in and believe that she can truly have him this time, that she can at last give him her heart completely. And ugh her hand lifts from his but falters, wanting to reach for him but unsure for a moment if this is just a comforting peck or if this is an everything-laid-bare, I'm-never-letting-go kind of kiss, and she soon realises it's the latter and curls her hand around the back of his neck as he buries his in her hair, the other gently gripping her arm, anchoring her to him, and ugh this is a kiss they could both happily live in forever; a real everything-out-in-the-open, no-more-hiding-or-pretending kiss, no more secrets, no more ghost-Taylor, just the two of them choosing each other. Just Kurt and Jane, finally kissing the person they're stupidly in love with. And god, part of me so hopes Patterson is still in her lab rn and happens to look at the video feeds just at the right time and is standing there with happy-tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouth to hold in her squeal, because the day had been full of fear and suffering and devastation and darkness and then there was this one tiny bright spark, this one beautiful and happy thing, and ugh I bet she mutters abuse at the secret service guys when they interrupt and is already anticipating the moment she visits Zapata later and gets to tell her about this because if anything makes her friend feel better, it'll be winning the bet that they've had going on since the other night in the bar and ughhhhh this is the first moment of sunshine through the clouds and the first time that she realises that maybe things might just be okay. And ugh back in the cell, Weller is super displeased about the Secret service interruption-- when they first arrive, he doesn't even seem to hear them straight away, bc for a split second when Jane pulls away he seems confused, grip tightening on her like he wants to pull her back in, and then he registers what was said and realises why she pulled back haha, and you can literally see him make a gesture like 'kind of in the middle of something here guys' lol. And then ugh when they say he needs to come with them, his body shifts, and as usual idc that their hands are out of shot, bc I am 100% certain that when he says 'I'm not leaving my people'-- meeting Jane's eyes as he says so-- he closes his hand over hers on her thigh, linking them like he's daring the agents to try to separate them. And then she tells him that he has to go and it's okay, and gives him this adorable little encouraging smile, and he gives a tiny huff like 'alright, wifey, but only because you said so' and ughhh he gets up and moves past her and their hands are still holding onto each other and he gives her fingers one last tiny squeeze before forcing himself to let go and ughhhh he walks out without looking back because he knows he has to go do his ~duty~ and if he looks back and sees her sitting alone on that bed he won't have the strength to leave. But his dedication to serving and protecting others is one of the things she loves about him and she would never want to stand in the way of that. Doesn't mean she won’t miss him like hell until he gets back, though.

Oh boy. Shepherd is all dressed up, medals and everything. I have to say she does look good in a beret. But hold on, this isn’t one of those situations where the person gets in their full military dress before killing themselves, right? Nope nevermind, she's making a video announcement. I'm intrigued by the two empty chairs beside her-- were they originally intended for Roman and Remi? Was this vid meant to be a family affair? And she claims responsibility for the attacks, blah-blahing about how the country is failing and needs to be rectified (look, I'm not necessarily arguing with that, but I sure disagree with her methods), and ugh as she talks we get little glimpses of Weller being taken somewhere unknown, while Patterson stands in the bullpen with tears running down her face, and Reade sits by Zapata's bedside, and Jane sees the R carved on the bed and grieves afresh for Roman. Ugh. Oh right, the empty chairs are for 'those we have lost and those who will take up the fight'-- so, they kinda are for Remi and Roman then. And apparently now is the dawn of a new America, and clearly Roman is as discomfited by this as the rest of us, because that definitely sounded like a victory speech. Given that she wants him to send it to the Times tomorrow, yet said 'Today's attacks', then clearly she has a lot more planned.... #shit

Aaand now Weller is being escorted into a mysterious bunker in a mountainside, having to surrender his gun and phone (noooo, how will you tell wifey you're okay??) as part of the Deputies' Committee protocols. And then we see the flashback to Briana getting him to sign those documents and well, nice work show. Way to plant that little seed early on haha. And now Weller's in the hands of the army, walking into... a giant, fancy conference room filled with official looking people. I love that Weller's focus isn’t on the guy addressing the group; it’s on the bunker doors sealing behind him, cutting him off from his team, and from Jane, for who knows how long. And he already knows that something about this is very, very wrong. And then he hears the words Continuity of Government Subcommittee-- COGS-- and sees the copy of the Truman protocol in his binder. Not to mention the fact that Keaton, Julia Chang of the CDC, and Agent Valentine of the DEA are all there, people who are all in place due to tattoo cases removing their superiors from power. And then he knows. Knows that THIS, the Truman protocol, is Phase 2. They are the new dawn of America, the new founding fathers (and mothers). Shepherd chose them all based on their leadership skills and morality, which is kind of a weird thing to think about when she is the exact type of thing that they will be protecting the country against. It's very ‘be the villain in order to become a hero’ kind of thing? But either way, literally everyone outside this bunker, including everyone Weller loves, is now in terrible mortal danger. And he has absolutely no way to stop it. #Checkmate

#Blindspot #Blindspot recap #Jeller #ASDFGHJKLKSDFGHJKL THIS EPISODE DESERVES LIKE TEN RECAPS #ALL FULL OF SCREAMING AND HEART EMOJIS #BLESS YOU GEROOOOO

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