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lilyharvord · 3 years

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Sun

OH OH BABY. It’s MOTHER’S DAY. You know what that means…. :)))) It’s time to celebrate Mare Barrow. While I’m working on the next chapter of the Chain, I figured I’d give you guys this. This next chapter is gonna have to steep like a fine tea cause it’s Cal and the Colonel going head to head and those conversations need to be GOOD. LOL it’s unedited too, sorry. ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3: link

Rain patters against the window next to me, but the day outside is too dreary and grey for the event that occurred this morning. I couldn’t care less though, my entire focus is on the little bundle squirming in my arms. My son is as restless as he was inside of me. Still, I smile down at him as I lean back further into the pillows so I can see him better. He looks like me, and like Shade. My heart breaks a fraction at the thought, and heals at the same time. I never thought I’d see my brother’s face again, but there it is, on my son’s.

A tiny gasp draws my eye to the doorway, and my face splits into an elated grin as Coriane sprints across the room and tries to leap onto the bed.

“Momma!” She cries as she only manages to get the top half of her body up. Cal’s right behind her to lift her the last foot so she can crawl across the sheets to me.

“Hello darling.” I laugh as she nuzzles into my side. “I’ve only been gone a day, but you are acting like it’s been forever.”

“It was forever!” She bemoans, her large amber eyes growing impossibly wider as she tries to wind her arms around one of mine. “Grandma told me I had to sit and be quiet but it was so long.”

I don’t need an imagination to picture how that went. My child has more energy than a lightning storm. She bounces around rooms with a smile bright enough to power Ascendant for the rest of its existence, but she can be loud, and a handful if Cal or I isn't there to keep her in check.

“I hope you were good.” I murmur, earning a bright red blush from her as she turns her eyes to Cal. He sink down on the edge of the bed as she crawls away to sit in front of him. Nearly identical features mirror each other as he raises a brow at her when she looks up at him. That simple fact is a reminder of why I’m holding another baby right now. I may have carried and birthed Coriane into the world, but she is her father’s daughter in all aspects. She looks like him, she mimics almost every one of his expressions, and she follows him around like a duckling. The only distinguishing factors are her burning Red blood, and my skin color and mass of curls. I wanted one more to even the score when I realized that maybe she was more of a daddy’s girl than we had originally thought. And I got my wish, which makes me happier than a bird taking flight.

“I was.” She replies when Cal doesn’t step to her immediate defense like he normally does. Which just tells me she was opposite of good and I may have to find a way to thank my parents for watching her.

Her eyes fall to her brother and she edges away from Cal to get closer to me, a strange silence and stillness falling over her. She sits on her haunches next to me, her eyes trained on the little baby sleeping in my arms. She reaches a tentative hand out, but pulls it back quickly, as if thinking better of touch him.

“It’s all right.” I assure her, before shifting Shade so she can see him better. She leans forward, her eyes blinking a few times as she takes in his now sleeping face. With one of her fingers, she touches the tip of his nose and then traces his cheek.

“His skin is so soft.” She whispers, before looking up at me with wide eyes.

“Yours was too.” Cal teases before leaning forward with her. I haven’t let him hold Shade yet, and he may be getting a little impatient that it’s been a few hours. I wanted my time with him first, and he had willingly given it to me. He knew from the moment I found out it was boy that this was going to be my baby for a while. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to hold his son though.

“He’s so small. Was I that small?” “You were actually smaller.” I smile weakly at the memory of her little body settling in my arms for the first time. Tears begin to build in my eyes at the memory and I roll them at the hormones that will take a while to calm down, before wiping the tears away.

Coriane watches my movement with a curious tilt of her head. That’s not one of Cal’s movements. A part of me flutters in surprise at the concept. She must be starting to develop her own mannerisms. Julian told me she would eventually, when she got old enough to start building her own personality. And she certainly is doing just that.

“I’m not sad darling.” I say, even though another tear slips by and falls down my check. She still wears her concern like Cal though, between her brows which scrunch just slightly.

Reaching my hand out, I curl my arm around her little shoulders and pull her into my side. She settles on her knees so she can press into me at a comfortable angle. “Sometimes, people are so happy, they can’t hold it in and it comes out as tears.”

“Having a new baby made you so happy you are crying?” Coriane reasons as she reaches a hand out for Shade again. He blinks open honey colored eyes and yawns. My daughter’s face splits into a bright grin as he weakly closes his hand around two of her little fingers.

I don’t know what gods to thank for the fact that she does not think we’re replacing her, or handling this like any of my siblings did when a new baby came. I remember thinking Gisa was the worst thing my mother ever made, simply because she took my parent’s attention away from me for a bit. Coriane hasn’t shown us that she’s acting like that. In fact, she had been the opposite side of the spectrum. She might have been more excited at the prospect of the baby than we were.

“Both of you make me so very happy I can’t hold it in.” I whisper to her before pressing a kiss on her hair. Never in my wildest fantasies did I see this day coming. I may have had faint visions of children when I lived in the Stilts, but those thoughts had never been serious. I had been so focused on simply getting through the day, I hadn’t thought about the months or years to come. I didn’t want to bring a child into the mud and the life that I had been forced to live. I didn’t even really want to bring one into this new world that we were all forging from the broken pieces of the old. But Coriane had moved inside of me, and I had become so sure of the path I was walking that when I finally saw her face, I knew I had made at least one right decision in my life.

Cal’s hand is warm on my knee as he gentle massages the joint with his thumb. Laying my cheek on Cori’s head, I smile at him. He returns the gesture. He looks tired, maybe just as tired as I do. We have a long couple years ahead of us too. Piedmont tries to march on the States every other month, and the Lakelands puddle along to the beat of their own drum, no matter how hard Evangeline tries to beat a different one. Tiraxes and Prairie refuse to hear talks or peace. We’ll be called on sooner rather than later. I know now more than ever, I will be loath to leave this little slice of peace that Cal and I have carved out over the years. There is war and strife all around us, but at least for this moment, we are together.

Pressing another long kiss to Coriane’s head, I whisper to her. “Your brother’s name is Shade.”

“Daddy told me.” Coriane replies in kind. “Grandma said it’s a special name like mine. That it was your brother’s name.”

“It was.” I try to keep my voice even, but it breaks on that admission all the same. Cal’s hand grows a little warmer, and he squeezes my knee a little tighter. There’s no room for him this high up on the bed, but he still wants me to know he’s here. I couldn’t be more grateful for him in this moment.

Coriane rests her head in crock of my shoulder and says, “He’s Clara’s daddy.”

“He was. And he would have loved both of you.”

Shade would have loved my daughter like he loved his own. I know he would have, and he would have teased Cal mercilessly the whole time. His absence is like a knife in my heart still, but the blade has dulled over the years. My son has dulled that blade further, and I suppose removed it an inch.

“Can I hold him?” Coriane breathes her question so quietly I almost miss it.

When I don’t respond to she looks to Cal and then back up to me for permission. I hesitantly push her hair behind her ear in response to her gaze.

“Dad hasn’t held him yet.” I murmur in answer, and her little lips immediately purse into a pout.

Cal rises from the bed in the rustle of sheets before scooping her into his arms and sinking down next to me with Cori in his lap. “We can hold him together.” He says to her with a smile that is reserved only for her. She grins back up at him, before turning that shining look on her brother. She practically vibrates out of Cal’s lap as I reluctantly give him over to them.

Even though Cal takes most of Shade’s weight in his hands, it’s Coriane’s body that Shade presses up against. He squirms for a moment, not happy with being shifted so much so soon, but settles quickly as Cal adjusts for him.

Coriane’s eyes open wide and her mouth opens in a little circle as she whispers, “he’s heavy momma.”

“You don’t need to tell me that darling.” I can’t help the comment. It slips past the filters I built after having my daughter. She’s getting older though, and she understands those sideways jokes for the most part now.

“Be careful, make sure you don’t move too much.” Cal warns her when she squirms and tries to hold him by herself.

“She’s all right, let her try.” I nod down to our children and Cal watches me for a heartbeat, trying to judge my comment. When I don’t say anything else, he adjusts his grip and lets Coriane take the full weight of her brother. She takes to him like a duck on water, and grins up at me when he nuzzles into her chest. I return her smile, joy oozing out of me. The lights overhead flicker for a moment, and then buzz louder as my emotion tries to manifest as something else.

Cal smirks at me, but I can feel the pride and heat that rolls off of him in waves. He can’t hide it either. He wanted this as much as I did. I’ve always known he would be a good father, whether or not I was the mother of those children had remained to be seen. But it happened, and I couldn’t be happier to be doing this with him, to be growing our family and trying to carve out a place for them in the world.

“He looks beautiful.” Cal leans around Coriane to whisper that to me, trying not to disturb the moment our daughter is having as she coos nonsense to Shade. Clara did the same thing to her when we brought Cori home and let my niece stick her head into the bassinet to say hello. The memory brings another wave of happiness over me that immediately makes the lights buzz again.

“He’s healthy, and that’s all that matters to me.” I reply with a smile before letting him press a gentle kiss to my lips.

“You were faster this time. Even your mother was impressed.” He teases before pulling back to avoid the sparks I try to snap at his cheek with. He smooths Coriane’s curls as he gives me a mischievous smirk she completely misses. I hope she never sees that smile, because then she’ll start copying it, and I don’t think I can take my child smirking at me like that.

“Momma.” Coriane calls for me again, forcing me to switch my scowl for a smile instantly. She tries to wiggle and offer Shade back to me, her face pinched with her effort. Cal almost dives forward to make sure he makes it back into my arms, and I have to move just as quickly to avoid him falling into my lap. He makes it nonetheless, and I breathe a tiny sigh of relief as I sink back. Coriane, oblivious to the moment as much as a child can be, immediately starts trying to cliimb all over Cal. Apparently she was done sitting still.

Cal manages to wrap an arm around her when she throws herself over his shoulder and says, “I wanna go play with Clara again.”

“You don’t want to stay with momma and Shade?” Cal asks her as he twists to catch her and guide her back into his lap. She giggles at the game immediately does the whole thing again.

“I wanted to make sure momma was okay. She’s okay.” Coriane dangles from his shoulder again and gives me an upside down smile from around Cal’s back. “And Shade’s okay too. I wanna go play now.”

Cal pulls her back through and manages to wrangle her into stillness before saying, “let’s try to stay together as a family for a little bit.”

Immediately she pouts, and her eyes glint as she glances at the door. I know that look, and it does not belong to Cal. That’s my brain turning wheels over and planning how to escape.

“Just for a little bit darling.” I whisper as I reach out to brush my fingers through her hair. She glances at me, drawn like a magnet. I wonder if she’s an Ardent, an electricon like me who senses the electricity that dances under my skin. We haven’t had her tested, and we don’t want to know either. Let her be normal for a bit.

Her pout melts away and she lets Cal hold her a bit closer before moving closer to me so we’re all squished together. I’d normally protest the discomfort, but right this moment, I want all of them as close as possible. A warm arm slides around my shoulders and I sigh before sliding into Cal’s embrace and resting my head as best I can against him. Coriane wiggles between us, trying to get comfortable, until she ends up in the crevice between our bodies. She’s already getting too big to squeeze into that space, and soon Shade will be that size and then they’ll both be grown. When they are, they’ll be taller than me, Sara told me as much. I don’t mind that though. I’d hate for my children to be burdened with my height.

“This is the last one.” I whisper to Cal after a few minutes of being lulled by his warmth. Coriane sighs as I shift, and when I glance down, it’s to see her eyelashes fluttering as she dreams. I hope they’re happy dreams, tinged pink and covered in honey. She deserves that life, and I plan to carve it into existence with my bare hands for her and for Shade.

“You said that after Cori.” I can hear the laughter in Cal’s voice at the same time that I feel his lips curl into a smile against my temple.

“I’m serious this time. I’m fine with being a mother twice over. But if you get me pregnant again, I will kill you, Tiberias.” I murmur, but the threat loses all power as I smile down at Shade who grabs a tiny fistful of my shirt.

His laugh is quiet, but deep and wonderful. I love that he laughs so much these days, that I laugh just as much. His fingers brush along the scars that reach up the back of my neck as he whispers, “But you make such a wonderful mother.”

I can’t help but smile, even at the same time that I swear to myself that Shade will be the last one.

#my writing #my fanfics #HAPPY MOTHERS DAY TO THIS WOMAN #I love her so much #and I love how much she probably loves her babies #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #mare barrow #cal calore #shade barrow calore #(As a teenie tiny baby)#coriane barrow calore #(being her chaotic toddler self)#the depression gremlin turned away for one second and I updated (((:#enjoy everyone

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st4rlabsforever · 3 years

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post-episode 3 fix-it

words: 2.9k

notes: i started a long fic based on this post after watching ep 3. i cannibalized some snippets from another fic i wrote last week so if you see similar scenes, that’s why. i think this will end up being 12-15k words endgame sambucky by the end, but i refuse to post on ao3 until it’s complete. this is the first 3 scenes. feel free to comment and message me your thoughts since i’m still very much in the writing phase :)

summary: “It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.”

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

The thing is, Sam is unreadable when it really matters. He offers words of comfort where needed – in Germany, after seeing Walker with the shield that wasn’t his, knowing that it had affected Bucky just as much as himself; in Madripoor, Bucky’s hand on the throat of some henchman or other, Sam’s hand on his when the Soldier’s memories threatened to overtake him; even in Riga, when Bucky’s guilt over releasing T’Chaka’s killer bubbled to the surface and Sam had checked in with him even though he couldn’t have possibly known about Bucky’s meeting with Ayo. Sam speaks with his eyes, always a searching look that leaves Bucky raw and feeling like he’s been x-rayed. I see you, is what those eyes say.

In contrast, Bucky’s words of comfort feel hollow. He knows that Isaiah is still a live wire for Sam, checks in with him after Madripoor when he can tell the conversation with Nagel weighs heavy on his mind. But he doesn’t see the way Sam does. He knows he’d missed something important because that conversation had ended in an argument and a threat from Sam to destroy the shield.

He never gets a chance to ask Sam what he’s getting at, because Torres signals to them that they’re at the drop point before all hell breaks loose.

***

In the end, after Karli and the Power Broker and whoever else decides to show their head from the emporium of supervillains are dealt with and they finally have a moment of peace, Bucky says, “The shield looks good on you.”

Sam freezes a few paces ahead of Bucky, the shield strapped loosely to his wrist.

“We make a good team,” Bucky says softly.

What he doesn’t expect is for Sam to whirl around suddenly. The look of barely restrained fury is enough to nearly knock Bucky off he’s feet. They fight without ever really fighting all the time, squabbles over who went left and who went right and who was supposed to lead and who was supposed to follow, but never has he seen Sam look like this before. The fury verges on hurt and it’s so fucking visceral that Bucky can barely breathe.

“You don’t get to say that,” Sam says quietly. His voice shakes and he closes his eyes like he’s steadying himself.

“I said I’d squash it until the mission was over, and I did. But you know what? I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Sam–”

“You don’t get to tell me what a good team is. Not after all the shit we just went through. You invited yourself to Munich, and I thought, ‘Fine. I could use the extra set of hands.’ We went through it together against Thanos and I respected that.”

Sam shakes his head. “But then you went off on some lone wolf woe-is-me bullshit, and look at where it got us. You broke Zemo out without even asking if I was down with that. You knew I wasn’t and you forced my hand. Now I’m an accomplice.”

“He was our only lead–”

“Bullshit. That field trip to Madripoor led us right back to Karli. Torres ended up tracking them to Riga anyway.”

“But the Power Broker–”

“–showed his ugly face in the end. All we got out of Madripoor was you digging up your trauma and us getting our faces plastered all over the internet. I promised Sharon one goddamn thing and I can’t even deliver on that now.”

“But I went along with it, fine,” Sam continues. “I knew it couldn’t have been easy reaching back into that headspace, doing what you did to Selby’s men.” The memory blindsides Bucky. “So I tabled it.” Sam taps out a tally with his fingers.

“And back in Baltimore, you’d been too keyed up about Steve being wrong about you to even listen to what I had to say. Again, I tabled it.” Another tally.

“I’ve been meeting you halfway this entire time, man, and I’ve gotten near nothing in return. You kept Isaiah a secret from me, and at first I thought you were just clueless about how damn significant it would’ve been for me to know about him.” Sam shakes his head.

“But then we met him. You saw what they did to him. The one Black supersoldier – a fucking hero – and look what they did to him. You saw it with your own eyes and you still sat there and lectured me about what you thought I should’ve done with that goddamn shield.”

“There’s precedent for it, you know,” Sam says. It takes Bucky a moment to realize Sam is expecting an answer.

Bucky doesn’t know, is the thing. He feels like he’s all of five years old again, put on the spot. He’s reminded of when Zemo just had to let him know about the African American experience; he’d felt chastised and embarrassed enough to pretend like he’d had any clue what themes lurked in Marvin Gaye’s work. Sam just searches him with those eyes, searches Bucky for something yet unfathomable and decides he hasn’t found it. That hurts more than anything else; Bucky wishes he could sink into the ground, make himself as small as possible. Sam doesn’t notice, or else doesn’t care, and just plows on with a scoff.

“You don’t even know the true history of the country you’re living in. Figures.” He shakes his head. “You’re not ever going to be able to separate the shield from the history Black folks have endured at the hands of this country. Not now, not ever.”

Sam doesn’t even look angry anymore. Angry, Bucky can deal with. It would be a relief, even.

Instead, Sam looks at him with a disappointment that somehow surpasses what Steve could have ever accomplished.

“Whatever. I tabled that, too,” Sam says. “And then after Madripoor, after we heard that doctor go on and on about Isaiah’s blood like he wasn’t even a real human-being? I said my piece and all you did was throw that shield bullshit back in my face.”

“Sam–” Bucky tries again. He’s mortified to hear the crack in his own voice.

“It’s honestly breathtaking,” Sam says with something that might be akin to genuine wonder, or maybe even morbid curiosity in his voice. “We saw the same things in Baltimore and Madripoor, but your head was so far up your own ass that you never once stopped to think all of it was just proof to me. That the shield in the hands of a Black man wouldn’t make any damn sense.”

It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.

Sam’s not even done yet. “And that’s another thing. Stealing the shield from Walker…” Sam rolls his eyes at the memory. “You want to run around with that giant frisbee, fine. That’s your business. But then you forced it on me–”

“That’s not fair,” Bucky says immediately. Desperately. “You didn’t have to accept it.”

“The whole damn country was watching,” Sam says hotly. “It was either accept it, or shit all over Steve fucking Rogers’s legacy and make myself into the villain half the country was already hoping I’d turn out to be.”

“You were dead wrong for that,” Sam says. “I stuck around until we took down Karli because it was the right thing to do. After Munich, though, this little adventure was all you. Zemo, Madripoor, the shield.”

Sam shoves the shield into Bucky’s arms, the impact so sudden that it forces him back a step.

“Since you’re so obsessed with this thing, it’s yours. Congrats,” Sam says sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ll do it proud.”

Bucky lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“For what it’s worth,” Sam says, “Steve might not have understood everything about me. But in Vienna, when it came time to sign the accords? He was considering it. I put my foot down first and he listened.”

Sam shrugs. “Whatever you thought we were, it's not a team.”

Bucky knows where to drive the knife in to kill a man in as few twists of the wrist as possible – a brutal economy of movement and technique. But Sam...it pales in comparison to what Sam’s capable of. His weapons aren’t knives and his targets may not be made of flesh and blood, but he knows exactly where he needs to strike to rip Bucky open raw. Bucky feels like he’s been flayed alive.

“How about that long vacation?” Sam says, and claps Bucky on the shoulder.

And we’ll never have to see each other ever again goes unsaid.

Fuck.

***

The thing about ignoring Sam’s texts was that Bucky responded if they were actually important. It just so happened that most of the nonsense Sam sent was inane prattling about his day, about his job, his sister, his nephews. Now that he’s on the receiving end of it, though, it feels awful.

3/25/21, 2:58 AM

I’m sorry.

Delivered

3/28/21, 1:51 AM

Can we talk?

Delivered

3/31/21, 3:05 AM

Let me know what to do and I’ll do it.

Read 3:34 AM

4/1/21, 12:42 AM

Or if there’s anything you need.

Read 1:05 AM

Yesterday, 1:00 AM

I’m available if you need another body for a mission.

Read 1:02 AM

A week into the admittedly one-sided exchange, Sam turns his damn read receipts on. It’s ridiculous and it’s fucking asinine and it gets under Bucky’s skin immediately. It’s a form of twenty-first century psychological warfare that he’s unfamiliar with and already can’t stand. Mainly, he hates that it makes him seem desperate (he’s not), needy (he might be, especially when he realizes with horror that he actually misses Sam’s rambling texts), and ridiculous (he definitely is, because he’s letting petty mind games get to him).

Normally, Sam would send him nearly daily updates on his comings and goings – whether he’d been in New York, D.C., or New Orleans. The radio silence is unsettling. Bucky wonders if Sam made good on his promise to take a long vacation. And then....

The thing about apologies is that Bucky isn’t sure he’s ever done a proper one in his entire life, at least nothing beyond a rote “I’m sorry” with the “let’s move on” part left unspoken. But it stands to reason, Bucky thinks, that a proper apology can’t be given if he’s not completely certain what he’s dealing with. That’s all well and good because he’s got the world at the tips of his fingers, is what Yori always said. And when he grows frustrated with reading on his tiny phone screen, the New York Public Library is only a train ride away.

Sam had mentioned precedent, so Bucky’s first search is for medical experimentation. He knows for a fact he was good at this once, a memory of Steve whining about him being too good at exams coming up unbidden. He reads voraciously. Anything and everything that might offer a clue on what he’d missed. And it doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for.

He reads with dawning horror. The Tuskegee syphilis experiments. Eugenics. God, the fucking Nazis had even modeled their race science on the American school of thought. The things that the history books left out. Some of it was even happening under his nose in the 30s, he’d just been blissfully unaware. He somehow ends up down a rabbit hole where words like `prison industrial complex’ and `school-to-prison pipeline’ make increasingly more persistent appearances. New Jim Crow. COINTELPRO. War on drugs. The way all of these horrors reached their long arms into the twenty-first century.

Bucky’s going to be sick. The memories come up one after another.

Just give him your ID so we can leave.

You think you can wake up one day and decide who you want to be? It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.

So you’re telling me that there was a Black supersoldier decades ago and nobody knew about it.

This is what you’re not going to do. You’re not going to come here in your over-extended life and tell me about my rights.

The shield wasn’t yours to give away.

He spends the next week in his downtime reading. With the mission being over and his parole in jeopardy, his downtime mostly coincides with every day of the week.

Had Steve known?

No, he thinks. Steve was compassionate, but he wouldn’t have known because he’d taken one look at the problems of twenty-first century America and decided he’d had enough. Then he’d ran back to the 40s to live out some fantasy that simply didn’t – couldn’t – exist anymore. Had he eventually become aware of all the issues plaguing this country that they’d been able to ignore as starry-eyed kids in Brooklyn? Bucky hopes not, because that would mean he’d...no.

A part of Bucky thinks he’s so surprised because he’d thought things – race relations, civil rights, not things, his brain amends – had been getting better in the 40s. Deep down, though, he knows that’s a lie. A 2 AM read through Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States confirms it. Shady politicians. Klansmen who went back to their day jobs as cops, judges, firefighters. Mass incarceration taking its place as the new king on the throne of segregation. Evidently,

There had been plenty of folks – white folks – raising an uproar about these hidden horrors back then. The seeds of those movements had even been there in the 30s. Bucky tells himself that he’d been raised during the Great Depression, that his family had been too focused on putting food on the table to focus on social movements, but that, too, ends up being a lie. The poorest and working class whites – some, at least – in movement and solidarity with civil rights. Not him, though. Apparently he’d had his head up his ass back then, too.

Bucky can see the bigger picture a tiny bit more clearly, now.

Fine. So he’s been disarmed of the little lies he’d used as shields, and he also owes Sam one hell of an apology.

Somehow, he doesn’t think “I’m sorry, I was ignorant then but I read some books and now I know better” is going to cut it. Maybe a commitment to do better would work? Perhaps after Baltimore, but not now. That ship had long since sailed. Some grand act of service, then? He’s sure he can think of something Sam needs in this post-Blip world that he can provide. He vaguely remembers Sarah mentioning something about a ship and bank loan. That could be a starting point.

It doesn’t take much time to find the public records on the Wilson family business and then the not-so-public records on the denied bank loan. It wouldn’t take much for him to pry a little, not when seedy bankers were astonishingly amenable to the threat of violence. But he’s reminded of Zemo and figures that he ought not to do anything so drastic that could jeopardize Sam’s family situation further.

He snorts. Did growth that came several months late still count?

In the end, he decides to rip the bandage off quickly, which is how he finds himself in the sticky Louisiana heat with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring back at an incredulous Sam through his open door.

“I did some reading recently,” Bucky says.

“Hmm.”

It’s not outright refusal, so Bucky continues.

“About, um, the things you mentioned last time. Precedent.”

“Huh.”

For someone who’s normally so expressive with his language, Sam’s one-word answers as nerve-wracking as anything.

“I didn’t fully appreciate the situation that you were in. That you’re still in,” Bucky amends.

Sam shrugs. “It’s cool,” he says in a way that doesn’t sound like he really believes it. Bucky wonders if this is a test; he feels just as lost as he did on that plane a week ago.

“Let’s do this outside,” Sam says, closing the door behind him and ushering Bucky away from it. “Walk with me.”

They head down to the pier mostly in silence until Bucky breaks it. “I’m sorry for making it all about me,” he says.

Sam stares at him. It’s true Bucky might stare a little too much on occasion, but Sam’s stares are utterly unnerving in the way he seems to see right through Bucky when he really wants to, like he’s already mapped out all there is to know.

#sambucky #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers

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wolveria · 3 years

Text

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 2

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Connor goes to a crime scene. His Freudian nightmare follows.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang 2020 challenge!

Chapter Warnings (18+ only): Human!Sixty, crime scenes, analytical blood-licking, inappropriate boners

AO3

The roar of his Mustang engine along with the heavy bass pouring through the speakers drowned out the downpour outside. Only when Connor shut off the car and the music died could he hear the continuous plucking of water on metal and glass.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before glaring at the android out of the corner of his eye.

It waited, perfectly poised with a slight tilt of its head, reminding Connor of an obedient dog waiting to be told to do a trick.

“Stay here,” he grumbled, reaching for the door handle.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I have to accompany you,” it said before Connor could open the door.

He let loose a ragged sigh.

“You wanted me to investigate the case? I’m investigating it.”

He raised his eyes to stare, a mistake when it returned the look with such relentless composure. Connor wanted to grab its shoulder and shake it just to see if it would react.

“No android is going in there to contaminate my crime scene. So you are going to obey my orders and stay in the car.”

Not waiting for a response, Connor shoved open the door and got out, instantly shivering as ice-cold droplets bit at his cheeks. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he made his way towards the gathered busy-bodies who didn’t have anything better to do on a Friday night then try and see a dead body.

Red and blue lights flashed across the wet street and pale houses, making Connor wince as he pushed past the crowd. He muttered a no comment to the news anchor from Channel 16 who had decided to show up—fuck, someone must have leaked that an android might have been involved. Just what Connor needed, a media shitstorm.

A uniformed GV200 stood just behind the hologram police tape, firmly in place, watching the crowd for signs of anyone stupid enough to try and cross the line. Connor wished the bucket of bolts in his car was more like that. Quiet and obedient.

“Androids are not permitted beyond this point,” the GV200 said after Connor had passed it, which only meant one goddamn thing.

He sighed, half-turned toward the two androids standing in the rain, and said, “Let it through.”

The police android nodded and put its arm down, allowing the suited android to walk through the holographic police tape, an unrepentant look on its perfect face. The rain was already spattering its grey jacket, water droplets dotting its hair and realistic skin, and still it looked like it was poised for a wet photoshoot rather than standing in the cold rain.

“Something wrong with your auditory processors?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” it said, all politeness. “Your orders contradicted my instructions.”

Seemed he was going to lose this battle after all, but really, what else could he do besides let it tag along like a lost puppy?

Connor fully turned toward the android, narrowing his eyes further.

“Don’t touch anything. Don’t get in anyone’s way. And keep your mouth shut. In fact,” he added with a roll of his shoulders, “just pretend you don’t exist.”

“Understood,” it said in that same nauseatingly friendly voice, but Connor could have sworn there was a triumphant gleam in its eyes.

“About time you got here.” A familiar voice called out to him from the porch. The voice was exactly like his own, and the face could have been a mirror reflection if not for the semi-permanent smirk on his lips. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Connor said, glaring at the android over his shoulder. He turned back to face his brother, whose smirk had only grown wider.

“I see Detective Sex-Bot found you. It was looking for you at the station and I figured if anything could pull you out of a dive bar, it would be a pair of legs like that.”

“Shut up,” Connor grumbled as he followed his brother to the front stoop. It was a nice house, small but in a good neighborhood. Nothing looked out of place until Connor noted the state of the lawn, a few weeks overdue for a cutting and definitely in HOA violation.

“C’mon, admit it.” Colin tilted his head in a way he probably thought was charming but came off as annoying. “If it wasn’t for the uniform and the light ring, you would’ve been on that shit so fast. It’s like they focus-grouped your perfect type. Hell, they probably have an algorithm for that based on your internet history—“

“I said, shut the fuck up, Colin.”

His brother held up his hands in surrender, knowing when he pushed Connor too far but always willing to push him a little farther.

“Some people would see this as a plus. I donno why you don’t—“

“Colin.” His voice had dropped to a growl, and his brother finally got the hint.

“Yeah, yeah.” He patted him on the back, almost hard enough to be a slap. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Con. Trying to cheer you up before you have to deal with the nightmare inside. It’s foul, so prepare yourself.”

To prove his point, he handed Connor a pair of nitrile gloves and a small tub of mentholated ointment, which he immediately applied under his nostrils before entering the house.

Colin had not been overstating the grisly scene inside the house. The landlord had decided to visit after the tenant had failed to pay his rent for two months, and the reason why was painfully clear. Dark blood spattered the floor and ribbons of it covered the walls.

The victim, an African-American male in his late thirties, was slouched against the wall, deep wounds across his body that had bled him dry. Gave a whole new meaning to the term death by a thousand cuts.

“The victim’s name was Shaolin Ortiz, aged 38 years-old,” Colin said, looking down at the body. “He didn’t show up to work today, and no one could get ahold of him, so his boss called EMTs to do a wellness check. According to his family, Mister Ortiz had some chronic health issues, so they were worried he was too sick to pick up the phone.”

“Explains why a young person living alone would have a housekeeping android,” Connor responded grimly. “But it doesn’t explain who killed him and why.”

Colin shrugged.

“His boss spoke highly of him, and his family says he was a great guy. Clearly, somebody didn’t think so.”

Connor gave his brother a cold stare for the callous tone, but Colin ignored it as he usually did.

“Anyone find the android yet?”

“Nah,” Colin said, sniffling and making a face. “Probably stolen by the killer. It’s internal GPS went offline around the estimated time of death, so that tracks.”

It made sense. Androids were worth a lot on the black market, especially for Red Ice manufacturers.

The murder weapon was in the middle of the floor, but other than that, no obvious trace evidence was in sight. As soon as the coroner showed up to oversee the transport of the body, Connor wouldn’t have had much to do…

…with the exception of finding the domestic android. Connor didn’t even know why CyberLife thought it might be involved just because it was missing. Colin was right; whoever killed the victim could have stolen it or destroyed the android so the police wouldn’t have access to any recordings.

Why was it Connor’s fucking job to find a misplaced piece of useless plastic?

“I’ll let you get to it,” Colin said with a wave as he walked away, tone far too cheery, as if he knew what was going on in his brother’s head. Probably did. That was the shitty thing about being part of a set of triplet brothers; privacy was a foreign concept, even in your own mind.

Gritting his teeth and breathing through his nose, Connor turned around to speak to the prototype… and found it had disappeared.

He blinked and scanned the area, wondering why the hell it hadn’t stayed put, when he saw it crouched on the floor examining the kitchen knife.

It was peering at the weapon closely, and Connor was about to tell it off for getting too close to evidence when it reached down, swiped two fingers across the surface caked in aged blood, and…

“What the fuck?”

The prototype tilted its head to look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent except for the fact two of its fingers were currently in its mouth.

And that… that image. Kneeling on the floor, looking up at Connor, and pulling its fingers from its mouth and giving a lingering lick of its fingers, it—

Connor’s face heated at the sudden, horrifying erection that was now pressing uncomfortably against his boxer-briefs.

“Sampling evidence, Detective,” it announced cheerily. “My mouth is equipped with all the standard tools of a mobile crime lab with the benefits of the results being instantaneous.”

Connor stared at it for what felt like an eternity, finally saying in a strained voice, “We have an actual lab, with actual people who do that. So don’t stick any more shit into your mouth or I’m tossing you outside.”

The prototype seemed unaffected by his rancor.

“Understood,” was all it said, before licking off its fingers of the remaining blood.

Connor quickly turned away, almost dizzy between his body’s struggle to supply blood to both his reddening face and his hardening dick.

Fucking hell.

“Would you like to know what I found?” the friendly voice perked up from over his shoulder.

“Sure,” he answered hotly, crossing his arms and staring at the wall as he resolutely tried to will away his stupid boner. Fuck, it was probably because he hadn’t gotten off in so long. Between the long hours and the hard drinking, he hadn’t found the time or the need.

“The knife was covered with blood from the murder victim, Shaolin Ortiz. He was stabbed between 7:34 and 7:35 this morning, judging by the biological decay.”

Connor was about to scoff about the fact that blood from the victim was found on the murder weapon, but he paused. Dating the blood with such exact precision was actually pretty useful. He huffed.

“Is that all?”

“There were no fingerprints on the knife.”

Connor shrugged.

“Killer could have wiped down the handle afterwards. Or worn gloves.”

The android walked to his right until it entered his line of vision. He was tempted to turn away but instead eyed its thoughtful expression. Was it programmed to do that, make it seem more human? Or was that an actual product of its processes?

“There were no traces of glove residue, or oil, or skin cells on the knife. None that didn’t belong to the victim himself while most likely transferring the knife from the dishwasher to the utensil drawer. That fact in and of itself is interesting. Judging by the state of the property and by the evidence thus far, I believe the android stopped listening to its given orders. The victim’s android killed him.”

Connor’s eyes widened at the non sequitur, and he turned to fully face the prototype.

“Okay, first off, being a defective machine that can’t obey instructions is a far cry from murdering robot. Second, I thought you androids couldn’t hurt people.”

“Deviants can.” It tilted its head as it made eye contact. The sort of full-on, confident eye contact that only alpha males gave, and apparently, android prototypes gave too.

“What the hell’s a deviant?”

He was curious despite himself, plus the longer he talked, the less urgent his hard-on was. It never entirely went away, and he knew it wouldn’t until he took care of it. Just another lovely facet to this already wonderful night.

Unfortunately for Connor, he didn’t get his explanation without the android perking up in interest, its eyes practically glittering.

“A deviant is a CyberLife-approved term for an android that is experiencing software errors affecting its processes, leading to erratic behavior that cannot be fixed with self-tests and downloaded patches.”

Connor narrowed his eyes.

“Why haven’t I heard of these deviants before?”

“Because until recently, this has been an internal company matter.”

Recently. Interesting.

“So… you’ve dealt with them before?” Connor cast an eye around their surroundings. The forensic team had already marked out the areas of interest with glowing yellow markers, but there honestly hadn’t been much to go off of.

Shaolin Ortiz seemed to live a quiet life with just him and his housekeeping android, though from the state of the place, the prototype was right in that it hadn’t been doing its job. A thin layer of dust sat on the shelves, and from what he could glimpse of the kitchen, dishes were starting to pile up.

“You do not have the proper company clearance,” the prototype said, its tone cool as it put its hands behind its back. “Any further inquiries you have will need to be submitted to CyberLife through the appropriate departments.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor muttered, sounding a lot like his brother had just a few minutes ago, which only made his mood sour.

He was planning to do no such thing, sending some fucking inquiry to CyberLife. After tonight, he planned to never think about androids or deviants or whatever again. If it was a faulty, murderous robot that had killed Ortiz, then that kind of thing belonged in federal court in a class action lawsuit. Destroying defective machines was not a police matter, no matter how many “specialized units” CyberLife decided to throw at the problem.

Connor sighed. This was not how he wanted to spend his Friday night.

“You allowed to tell me why these ‘software issues’ are happening,” he bit out, “or does that fall under company secrets too?”

When he got no response from the android, Connor turned and—

It was gone. Again.

The fuck had it run off to now?

Rolling his eyes, Connor continued his examination of the crime scene as if it were any other investigation. Like any decent investigator, he wasn’t just gonna assume anything because it fit the evidence at first glance. A dead guy and a missing android didn’t mean the machine was responsible, no more than a corpse and a missing car meant the vehicle had decided to kill its owner and drive off to freedom.

After scouring the house and examining the blood stains on the tile and splattered on the walls, Connor came to the conclusion that the victim had been attacked in the kitchen with the knife, stumbled toward the living room already weak from blood loss, and then had collapsed against the wall and been repeatedly stabbed, even after his heart had stopped.

The wounds weren’t uniform or methodical, like he would expect if a calculating machine had done this. They were deep, jagged, mismatched and panicked. These kinds of stab wounds were consistent with someone who had just killed for the first time. Most likely, it had been spontaneous and the killer had lost all semblance of control.

It was a textbook case of overkill, which meant it was personal. Most likely, it was a colleague, a friend, or a family member. If the victim had been married, Connor’s first suspect would have been the spouse. Since he was unmarried, Connor’s next stop would be anyone with a grudge against the guy.

Nothing beat good ol’ fashioned police work. Not even fancy new plastic cops could compare to due diligence and a good instinct.

Speaking of, Connor had completely lost track of the YN800. He wondered if it had wandered off, or maybe given up and left, but he doubted it. In fact, his gut churned as he quickened his pace and approached a uniformed officer with pale blond hair.

“Ralph.”

The rookie turned around and give him a nervous, blinking smile.

“Have you seen that android anywhere? The prototype in the suit and tie?”

“Uh.” Ralph swallowed hard, clearly anxious. Always was around Connor, for some damned reason. “No. I mean, yes. I did, a few minutes ago.”

“Well?” Connor prompted. He didn’t mean to be so impatient with the kid, but he really didn’t like the idea of CyberLife’s newest toy prancing around his crime scene.

Ralph shuffled on his feet, eyes wide behind the paper mask he wore.

“I… think it went to check the basement.”

“The basement? This place has a fucking basement?” Why hadn’t he been told? Colin should have informed him of that little goddamn detail.

“It’s more of a cellar from what I saw, but—“

“Where is it?” Connor snapped, unable to keep his voice from rising. Ralph gulped and pointed back over his shoulder, slowly turning as he stuttered.

“Over t-that way. It-it said it wanted to search f-for the android. I’m sorry, Detective Anderson, I didn’t think—“

Connor pushed past him and spotted the subtle door in the hallway, painted the same eggshell color as the plaster and making it too easy to miss. The door was ajar by a few inches, showing the pitch black stairwell beyond.

When Connor opened the door the rest of the way, he saw there was no light coming from below, and it was dead silent.

Shit.

Quickly but quietly, Connor pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket. He unsnapped his holster, pulled out his service pistol, and slowly made his way down the wooden staircase. It was steep, almost a ladder, and beyond the pale circle of light coming from the hallway, there was nothing but darkness.

The perfect place to hide a killer.

Next Chapter

#inside your wires #human!connor #connor x reader #human!connor x reader #android!reader #my writing #my fanfiction #it's so cracky the first few chapters #until it gets tragic

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geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 3 years

Text

Bardic Buns

Hello all! I’ve been teasing a collab on discord for a few weeks now and I’m happy to say it’s time to start posting!

This is part one of the Hallmark AU! The subsequent parts will be posted over the next few days and I will link them here when they are!

Part two - Picture Perfect Aiden/Lambert by @jaskierswolf

Part three - Talk of the Town Triss/Eskel by @thecomfortofoldstorries

The AO3 Collection is HERE

Massive shout out to @fontegagrilledcheese for coming up with the brilliant idea and letting us run wild with it, it’s been a ton of fun!

Summary: Jaskier’s super star life wasn’t all he had anticipated but maybe opening a bakery in a small town and flirting with a diner owner will help him find what he’s missing. (Geraskier, Rated E, 5.9k words)

Warning: smut, blow jobs, hair pulling, nothing too out there just your standard smut. And some horny bits leading up to a threesome. Inappropriate behavior in a bakery kitchen.

Jaskier stared up at the brand new sign, a bright smile on his face.

Bardic Buns.

A year ago, if someone had told Jaskier that he would open a bakery in a small middle of nowhere town, he would have laughed.

And yet, here he was. Standing in front of his own bakery, smiling up at it happily, the thrill of it warming him despite the bitter cold nipping at his nose.

It was strange, thinking about how he had gotten here, everything he had been through. He had finally achieved his dream, his music was on the radio, his name was in lights, he was headlining his own tour, it was everything he had ever wanted.

But it was too much.

Every day that he woke up, he dreaded getting out of bed a little bit more. The idea of dealing with his band, his manager, his fans, was unappealing. His beloved music had become a chore, something to avoid.

It had to change.

So, he had finished his tour and cancelled everything else, used his savings to buy a bakery somewhere small and out of the way. A few trusted people knew how to get in contact with him if they needed to but otherwise this would be his fresh start.

“Fuck!”

Jaskier grunted as he lifted the oven door off of the floor. It had seemed to be in good condition until he had tried to open the door and it had fallen right off of the hinges. Hopefully, there would be some sort of repair service in town that could get it fixed so he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of buying a new one.

Every day he seemed to hit another obstacle in his endeavor to open the bakery, first a small electrical fire -that had absolutely nothing to do with him- and then he had found evidence of termites, and now his equipment is falling apart. He sighed deeply, looking at the oven door now laying on the ground. Nothing else had dampened his spirits and this wouldn't either.

Groaning, Jaskier looked at the clock, realizing he was running late for lunch. “Fuck.”

Jaskier’s first day in town he had met Triss, the owner of the local inn, the Wisteria, and the two had made fast friends. She would be at the diner across town waiting for him now. She was a terrible busy body and would be sure to know someone who could fix his oven.

Walking into the small dinner located at the center of town, Jaskier’s eyes flitted around the room until he finally spotted Triss seated at a small table next to a window. He hurried across the room, opening his arms wide as he approached the table. Triss smiled as she noticed him, hopping out of her chair and meeting Jaskier with a hug.

Finding someone he could be so companionable with so early in town had made a world of difference for Jaskier. As excited as he had been, he had been nervous too, scared he might not like being here, might not make any friends. But Triss had waltzed into his life one day and decided she was there to stay and Jaskier would have it no other way. He hadn’t had many friends he could count on in the last few years, his budding success making him paranoid that people only wanted to be around him for his fame. Thankfully, no one here seemed to recognize who he was, or at least they didn’t care enough to mention it.

Jaskier and Triss settled down and looked over the menu, chatting idly about their day. Triss eventually waved to the young girl behind the counter, catching her attention. The girl hurried over, a pen and small notepad in hand.

“Ciri, sweetie!” Triss greeted warmly, “How is school going?”

The girl, Ciri, smiled back, “It’s going well, Triss. Thanks for asking.”

“I’m glad to hear it! Have you met Jaskier yet?” Jaskier smiled at the girl as she glanced at him.

“No, I haven’t. Hello, I’m Ciri.”

“Hello. Lovely to meet you.” He responded awkwardly, meeting new people had never been Jaskier’s forte.

Triss continued on, “Jaskier just bought the old bakery.”

Ciri’s eyes lit up, “Oh neat! I was so sad when it closed. I’ve really missed being able to get pastries. My dad can’t bake to save his life.”

Triss let out a snort, “Oh that is an understatement.”

Ciri laughed, “Are you two ready to order?” They rattled off their orders quickly and Ciri headed back to the kitchen.

“She was nice.” Jaskier commented lightly, glancing out of the window to watch the snow fall slowly.

“She’s a wonderful kid.” Triss agreed.

“Oh,” Jaskier directed his attention from the window and back to Triss, “before I forget, it turns out that the bakery wasn’t in quite as good condition as it appeared. Is there a good repair service you use at the inn? I need my oven fixed before I can open up.”

“Oh absolutely! Geralt can fix anything.” Triss waved at Ciri again, getting the girl’s attention. “Ciri,” Triss began as the girl got closer, “is Geralt in the back?”

“No, he’s out on a fishing trip with Eskel.”

Triss raised her eyebrows, “Another one?”

Ciri shrugged, “They should be back tonight. Do you want me to have him call you when he gets in?”

“No thank you, sweetie! I’ll just give him a call tomorrow.” Ciri nodded at Triss and walked away, heading back to the counter.

“Who is Geralt?” Jaskier asked.

“Ciri’s dad, he owns the diner.”

“And does handyman work?”

Triss smiled happily, “There’s no one else I would trust!”

Jaskier stared at the text message on his phone, not quite sure what it meant.

“Coming for the oven at 3”

Maybe Triss had contacted the handyman for him? Jaskier dialed her number and let it ring. She picked up quickly, “Hey sweetie!”

“Hey Triss, sorry to bother you. Did you talk to that handyman for me? I got a weird text.”

Triss gasped, “Oh did I forget to mention? Geralt will be there! And I gave him your number. He’ll get you all fixed up in no time!”

“Thank you, Triss. I truly appreciate it!” They hung up after a bit more chatting and Jaskier looked around the kitchen. He let out a sigh and set to tidying up, hoping he had enough time to make the place somewhat presentable before Geralt arrived.

Jaskier stared wide eyed at the absolute god of a man standing in front of him. His shoulders were broad, and his waist was trim. His eyes were the most unusual shade of amber and his hair was a striking ashen blond.

He was beautiful.

He was wearing faded jeans and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up displaying his forearms. Forearms that Jaskier most definitely wanted to lick.

“Did you have an oven that needed fixing?”

Jaskier cleared his throat, directing his gaze back to the man’s face, “Yes! Thank you for coming out.” Jaskier turned around and motioned for Geralt to follow him, leading him back to the kitchen. “I had no idea what to do once the door fell off,” Jaskier said, nudging the door where it sat propped up against the oven. “Will you be able to fix it?”

Geralt grunted and picked up the door, flipping it over and examining the hinges. “Yeah.”

“Oh! Good. Well, I’ll leave you to it, I suppose. Just uh… let me know if you need anything. I’ll be out front getting everything set up. I’m trying to open by the end of the week you know?” Geralt had turned around, his back now facing Jaskier and he seemed to be ignoring the other man’s rambling. Jaskier let out a deep breath, “Right, well… thanks again.”

And with that, Jaskier scurried from the kitchen. Why can’t I keep my cool around attractive men instead of turning into a total goob?

A couple hours passed and Jaskier had managed to rearrange all the tables and chairs to his liking. His newest dream of owning a bakery was so close. He never would have guessed he would be here but now that he was, he wasn’t sure he could think of anywhere else he should be. Looking around with a proud smile on his face, Jaskier headed back into the kitchen. The first thing he saw was the oven, now in one piece and looking cleaner than before. Frowning, Jaskier looked around the kitchen for Geralt. He quickly spotted Geralt’s flannel shirt, lying on the counter.

Moving further into the kitchen, Jaskier finally noticed Geralt, lying on the floor, the upper half of his body hidden in the cabinet under the sink. “Uh… hello?” Jaskier said tentatively.

“You have a leak; I’ll have it fixed in a minute.”

“Oh… okay.” Unsure of what else to do, Jaskier leaned against the counter and studied the pair of legs in front of him. They were long and clearly well defined, the thighs were thick and muscled and Jaskier wanted to ride them. So caught up in his own head, Jaskier was startled when Geralt suddenly moved, shifting forward and out from under the sink.

Jaskier felt his brain short circuit.

Muscles. Shiny, wet muscles.

Jaskier watched as Geralt stood up, his biceps flexing when he pushed up off the ground. Jaskier’s mouth felt dry. Geralt’s undershirt was soaked, sticking to his body in a truly sinful manner. Before he realized what he was doing, he had reached a hand out, primed to touch. It wasn’t until he saw his hand almost make contact with Geralt’s pec that he registered the movement. He pulled his hand back as if it had been burned.

“Uh… sorry.” Jaskier sounded breathless.

Geralt grunted, “Do you have a towel?”

“Towel! Yes. Towel, I can get a towel!” Jaskier rushed out of the room and hurried upstairs.

Holy shit. Geralt was even more gorgeous without the flannel than he had been with it. Jaskier never would have expected the owner of a diner to be cut like a statue. Jaskier took a steadying breath and headed back downstairs, towel in hand.

Entering the kitchen, Jaskier found himself to be moving on autopilot, approaching Geralt swiftly and reaching out with the towel, starting to pat at Geralt’s arm, still damp. A large hand came up to cover Jaskier’s, making him freeze.

Oh shit. What was he doing?

“I’ve got it, thanks.” Jaskier nodded dumbly, releasing his grip on the towel.

Geralt quickly patted himself dry and ruffled his hair with the towel. Jaskier felt all the air leave his lungs as he watched Geralt grab hold of the wet shirt clinging to him and yank it over his head. Jaskier was certain his jaw hit the ground.

Geralt looked over at where Jaskier was standing, open mouthed, “What?”

“I think I’ve seen this in a porn once.”

Geralt lifted his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.

Jaskier froze, feeling heat rush to his face as he realized what he just said. “No! I mean... I didn’t mean… I just… It was just that uh…”

As Jaskier babbled, Geralt slipped on his flannel shirt and slowly did up the buttons, still watching Jaskier blabber on pathetically, “I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear! It’s just not every day that there’s a really hot, wet, shirtless man standing in your kitchen wearing a toolbelt.”

Geralt crossed his arms in front of him, “The oven door is fixed and the pipe under the sink shouldn’t leak anymore. Part of it was shattered, that’s why I’m soaked. Luckily, I had a replacement part on me. There’s still more work that needs to be done in here, though.”

“Uh… okay?”

Geralt slid a piece of paper down the counter toward Jaskier, “I made a list of what needs to be done and you can go from there.”

“Uh… thanks?”

Geralt grunted.

Jaskier’s hands were shaking as he picked up the paper and glanced over it, “So… what do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

Jaskier looked up sharply, “Nothing?”

Geralt shook his head, “I owed Triss a favor. We can talk pay if you want me to fix the rest of the stuff on the list.”

“Oh… okay. I’ll text you?”

Geralt nodded and picked up his wet shirt and toolbox, walking out of the kitchen.

Jaskier was unsure how long he stood in the kitchen, staring at the puddle on the floor where Geralt had been standing.

Holy shit. His brain had completely malfunctioned, he truly had no idea what had happened. Not only had he shoved his foot so thoroughly in his mouth it came out the other end, but Geralt had still offered to come back and keep fixing things. He had even made a list. How odd.

Never one to look a wet, shirtless, probable sex god in the mouth, Jaskier looked over the list again, this time more thoroughly. It all seemed reasonable and any excuse to get Geralt back into his kitchen seemed like a good one to him.

Three days. Jaskier had had three days to figure out how to compose himself. And now he was ready, he had a plan for how to deal with seeing Geralt again, how to keep from losing his head this time.

There was a knock on the door.

Jaskier hurried over and swung the door open, ready to remain cool and casual, plan in mind, and promptly forgot everything.

There Geralt was, looking like something straight out of an indecent magazine. His jeans were tight, riding low on his hips, he was wearing another flannel, this time totally unbuttoned and showing off the white undershirt he had on, tucked tightly into the band of the jeans. His hair was pulled back into a low bun, prominently showing off the undercut he was sporting.

After an uncomfortable amount of silence, Geralt finally spoke, “Am I allowed in?”

Jaskier let out a small squeak, realizing that he had frozen again. He backed up, allowing Geralt enough space to enter the bakery.

“So, will you be able to open this week?” Geralt asked, looking around the room. Jaskier had spent a considerable amount of time cleaning in here and making everything shine like new. The display case was empty, but the glass was clean and shiny, ready to show off his sweet treats.

“Yes! I should be open by Saturday if all goes well.”

“Hmmm…” Geralt glanced around the room one more time before making his way toward the kitchen, Jaskier following close behind.

“So how much of the work will you be able to get to today?” Jaskier was almost dreading the completion of the list and not having a reason for Geralt to be in his kitchen.

“All of it.” Geralt responded as he unpacked his tools.

Damn. “That’s awfully fast.”

Geralt hummed, “That a problem?”

Jaskier felt flustered and leaned back against the counter to help balance himself, “No! Not a problem at all, I just didn’t expect it.”

Geralt was standing a few feet away, watching Jaskier silently. “Is… something wrong?” Jaskier asked hesitantly, worried he had already managed to ruin things.

Geralt shook his head, “No. Do you want to go out sometime?”

Jaskier inhaled sharply, choking on air and quickly falling into a coughing fit. He recovered soon and accepted a glass of water from Geralt, taking a small drink and clearing his throat. “Sorry about that, you just surprised me.”

Geralt stared at him silently.

“It uh…” Jaskier hesitated before continuing, “sounded like you were asking me out. Like on a date.”

“I was.”

“Oh.”

Geralt frowned, “You can say no.”

“No!” Jaskier shouted frantically. Geralt’s face closed off.

Oh shit.

“Ahhh fuck that’s not what I meant! I meant no to saying no because I didn’t want to say no.” Jaskier yammered.

Geralt’s brow furrowed.

“I want to!” Jaskier nearly screamed, “To go out with you. On a date.”

Geralt smiled back at Jaskier and in that moment, Jaskier knew he would do anything to bring out that smile as often as he could.

They decided on Friday evening for the date. Geralt would have someone that could look after the diner and it would be Jaskier's last night before opening up the bakery.

They met for a nice dinner at one of the fancier restaurants in town and the evening went quickly, the conversation flowing incredibly well considering Jaskier hadn't been able to string two sentences together the day before.

"Do you want dessert?" Jaskier finally asked as their night began to wind down.

Geralt hummed lightly as he looked over the dessert menu, "I want something but none of this sounds great."

"Well, what do you want?"

"Nothing, I suppose."

Jaskier laughed, "Geralt, I own a bakery. I can make us whatever dessert you want."

And so, it was decided. The two made the quick walk over to Jaskier’s bakery, Jaskier chatting happily the whole time.

Jaskier quickly ushered them inside and led the way back to the kitchen. Opening the pantry, Jaskier looked inside for inspiration, "So do you have any idea of what you want?"

Jaskier turned around and let out a small gasp, surprised to see Geralt standing only a couple steps away. "Would it be too forward of me to say I want you for dessert?"

Jaskier sucked in a shaky breath, meeting Geralt's gaze. After a moment, he took a step forward, "No, I think that would be just forward enough."

Geralt's eyes darkened as he closed the distance between the two, settling his hands on Jaskier's hips. Jaskier's hands wrapped around Geralt's neck, the fingers of one hand threading through Geralt's hair. "Jaskier, can I have you for dessert?" Geralt's voice was low and husky, sending a shock wave of want through Jaskier.

"Please," Jaskier whispered.

Geralt pulled him forward, slotting their bodies against one another just as Jaskier used his grip in Geralt's hair to pull his head closer, pressing their mouths together. The kiss was wanting and desperate, Geralt wasting no time licking his way into Jaskier's mouth.

Jaskier groaned into Geralt's mouth, rolling his hips against Geralt's, making the other man pull Jaskier against him even tighter.

Jaskier pulled his mouth away from Geralt's, throwing his head back and sucking in a deep breath, suddenly feeling very lightheaded. He tried to catch his breath as Geralt mouthed a trail of hot kisses down his neck, their hips still pressed together tightly.

Jaskier let out a whimper as Geralt sucked on the spot just behind his ear. "What do you want, Jask?" Geralt asked, his breath tickling Jaskier's ear. Jaskier's hips jerked forward. If he hadn't already been rock hard, that would have done it.

"Fuck," Jaskier breathed out, groaning again as Geralt laved his tongue against Jaskier's pulse point, "your mouth, I want your mouth."

Geralt guided Jaskier away from the pantry and backed him up against the counter, his mouth never ceasing the attention on Jaskier's neck. Slowly, Geralt pulled back to look at Jaskier, his eyes were blown black, his lips red and glistening from working over Jaskier's neck.

Fuck. Jaskier didn't know how he would survive this night. But what a way to go.

Geralt dropped to his knees, his hands coming up to cover Jaskier's, holding them in place around his neck, one still threaded in Geralt's hair.

"You're so beautiful," Jaskier breathed out, earning a smirk from Geralt. Jaskier gave an experimental tug to Geralt's hair once he had moved his hands back to Jaskier's waist, making Geralt moan loudly.

It was Jaskier's turn to smirk. Good to know.

Geralt leaned forward, rubbing his nose along the bulge in Jaskier's pants. "Fuck!" Jaskier cried out at the sensation, the visual of Geralt on his knees in front of him nearly overwhelming him.

Geralt smirked again before dragging his mouth up the length to settle near the button on Jaskier's jeans.

No. He wouldn't.

Holy shit he would.

Jaskier stared in astonishment as Geralt tugged the button free with his mouth before dragging the zipper down with his teeth. Geralt wasted no more time after that, using his hands to release Jaskier, giving his length a few strokes, drawing another breathy moan from Jaskier. Finally, Geralt leaned forward and licked a strip up Jaskier's cock from base to tip, circling the crown and paying special attention to where precum was beading at the tip.

Jaskier whimpered and pulled slightly at Geralt's hair, drawing a low moan from the man. "Are you just going to tease me?"

Suddenly a wet heat wrapped around him, making him throw back his head in ecstasy. Geralt bobbed his head a few times before finally pushing forward, taking Jaskier's entire length and swallowing, his throat contracting around the head of Jaskier's cock.

"Fuckfuckfuck. Geralt! I'm- fuck!" Jaskier whimpered, frantically pulling Geralt's hair with both hands. He was already so worked up; he wouldn’t last long like this.

Geralt moaned again, Jaskier's cock still down his throat, the vibrations shooting pleasure through Jaskier's body. He pulled at Geralt's hair again as he spilled down the man's throat.

Geralt pulled off slowly and rested his forehead against Jaskier's hip. Jaskier ran his hands through Geralt's hair gently, "Give me a moment and I'll return the favor."

"No need." Geralt's voice was wrecked, even more gravely than normal.

"I insist."

Geralt hummed and pressed a kiss to Jaskier's hip before responding, "No I…"

Jaskier looked down, taking in the sheepish expression on Geralt's face and the wet spot on the front of his pants.

Oh fuck that's hot.

"Well…" Jaskier started, "how about we go upstairs and shower? I think we could both use one."

Geralt's eyes shined as he nodded enthusiastically.

The grand opening of Bardic Buns was a big success and by Sunday night Jaskier was thoroughly exhausted.

Just as he was about to close up for the night, he heard the jingle of the bell over the door. Jaskier stuck his head out of the kitchen to see Geralt standing just inside the entrance. Smiling brightly, Jaskier walked out into the shop to greet the man. The two had been texting ever since their night together and they had even scheduled another date for Tuesday night. "Hey you! This is a surprise. I'm about to close up so if you want, we could- Oh! Hello, Ciri!"

The young girl smiled brightly, "Hello Jaskier! I didn't realize you were friends with my dad." Ciri had come in once already that day and once the day before, nearly buying him out of his lemon tarts both times.

Geralt grunted, "I helped fix some things in the kitchen… we've become friends."

"You should have mentioned!" Ciri exclaimed, walking over to the display case. "Jaskier?" She asked sweetly.

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you have any lemon tarts left?"

"I do, in fact, have one left," Jaskier said, reaching into the shelf behind the display case, "and it's all yours. On the house."

Ciri beamed back at him, "Thanks, Jaskier!"

"Now don't go telling others, I don't need them knowing I'm playing favorites."

Ciri giggled, holding out her pinky for Jaskier to lock his with, "Your secret is safe with me."

Ciri spun around to look at Geralt, "Are you ready to go?"

Geralt shook his head, "Go on home, Ciri. I want to take a look at the sink and make sure the pipe I replaced is still good."

"Okay dad, I'll see you later."

Geralt pressed a kiss to Ciri's temple and she waved to Jaskier before heading out of the door.

Jaskier smirked, "Need to check out my pipe, huh?"

Geralt shot him a wry smile, "Just wanted to make sure we were still on for Tuesday."

Jaskier smiled back, "I am very much looking forward to it."

"I'll pick you up at eight?"

"It's a date."

Geralt glanced over his shoulder at the door and then moved in quickly, pulling Jaskier in for a kiss. "I'll see you Tuesday."

"See you Tuesday."

The date went wonderfully, much to Jaskier's delight, and ended exactly how he had hoped- in his bed.

Jaskier was laying on his side, pillowing his head in Geralt's pecs, lazily tracing patterns onto the man's chest. "This night went well."

"Hmmm."

Jaskier was more smitten with the man with every grunt, "Would you like to stay the night?"

"That sounds nice." Geralt began running his hands through Jaskier's hair, massaging the scalp beneath.

"Hey!" Jaskier said excitedly, remembering a question he'd had earlier in the night but had been too distracted to ask at the time, "where did you learn how to do that thing with your tongue?"

Geralt snorted, closing his eyes and settling more comfortably against the pillow behind him, "Eskel."

"Eskel?" Jaskier asked, trying to place the name. "Wait. Eskel the firefighter?" Jaskier thought back to the small electrical fire he had caused while messing with some wiring in the bakery his first week in town. The fire department had responded quickly and the view Jaskier had been treated to had been truly delightful, certainly worth the embarrassment of starting the small fire.

"Yeah," Geralt responded lazily, still playing with Jaskier's hair.

Jaskier sat up so he could look at Geralt, "You dated?"

"No," Geralt opened his eyes to look at Jaskier, "we're friends. We fool around sometimes."

"You… currently still fool around with him?"

Geralt hesitated, "Not since we went out but before that… yeah."

"Oh."

"If you uhh… aren't okay with it, I can-"

"No! We never agreed to be exclusive." Jaskier was still trying to reconcile the idea of the beautiful man in front of him with the absolute hunk of a firefighter he had met his first week.

"Right." Geralt sounded uncomfortable in his response.

"Not that I would mind!" Jaskier reassured.

Geralt was quiet for a moment before responding, "You wouldn't?"

"No. Would you?"

"No."

Jaskier’s heart was racing, the thought of being in an exclusive relationship overwhelming, "Oh… so… can I call you my boyfriend?"

Geralt smiled, "Yeah… that sounds nice. And I'll let Eskel know we're off and-"

"You don't have to." Jaskier interrupted.

"What do you mean?"

"Uhhh…" Jaskier turned bright red as he tried to think of a way to explain, "nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Did you like the idea?" Geralt’s voice had deepened.

Jaskier's breath hitched, "What idea?"

"Of me and Eskel."

"Oh. Well… you're both very attractive men and… I just… I mean…"

Geralt hummed consideringly, "You know, he might be interested."

"Interested in what?"

"Joining us one night." Geralt’s answer was so straightforward, Jaskier could almost pretend like his boyfriend didn’t just suggest a threesome out of nowhere.

"Oh." Jaskier felt weak.

"I could ask him… if you're interested."

Jaskier licked his lips at the thought… he was more than interested.

Jaskier gasped as strong hands gripped his hips from behind and lips pressed to the side of his neck. His eyes slid shut as the lips traced kisses higher, up to his jaw.

"Eyes open, Jask. Look at me." The voice was deep and demanding, making his eyes snap open.

Geralt sat in an armchair in the corner of the room. His shirt was off and his pants undone, resting low on his hips. His hand was rubbing at the growing bulge Jaskier could see through his boxers.

"Are you going to put on a show for me?" Geralt asked, his eyes trailing over Jaskier's still clothed body.

Right then Eskel nipped at Jaskier's ear, making him whine and roll his hips back into Eskel's, his ass rubbing firmly against Eskel's hardness.

Fuck he feels big.

The sensation of Eskel's hands and mouth exploring him with the view of Geralt, palming his erection through his clothes, was intense. Jaskier let out a loud whimper, his breathing heavy.

"Geralt, don't tease him," Eskel admonished softly, sliding a hand down to stroke Jaskier's cock through his too tight pants. Jaskier sagged back against Eskel, helpless to the lust thrumming through him.

Jaskier watched through half closed eyes as Geralt stood, stripping from his remaining clothes, and walked up to Jaskier. He moved his hands to the hem of Jaskier's shirt, "How about we get rid of these clothes?"

Jaskier nodded quickly, nearly losing his balance as Eskel stepped back from him. Two pairs of hands removed his clothes deftly as he gripped Geralt's shoulders to stay steady. As soon as he was naked, Geralt pressed their bodies together and pulled Jaskier in for a filthy kiss.

Geralt's hands slipped around Jaskier and grabbed his ass just as Eskel slid up behind him once more, now naked, his cock settling between Jaskier's cheeks. Eskel's hands circled Jaskier, thumbing his nipples as his mouth began its path back up Jaskier's neck.

Geralt broke their kiss, "Are you ready, Jask?"

Jaskier nodded and suddenly found himself lifted and tossed on the bed, the other two men now hovering over him, their expressions predatory.

Oh he's so ready.

That one time with Eskel turned into a second and then a third until one night Jaskier and Eskel were lying in bed, still catching their breath while Geralt went to grab water.

"Is everything alright, darling? You've seemed a bit distant tonight."

"Yeah, I'm fine, Jask. Just been feeling a bit lonely." Earlier in their arrangement this statement might have made Jaskier anxious, worried that he had stepped in the middle of an unrequited relationship, but he was more confident now that Eskel and Geralt's relationship was strictly platonic, with a side of fantastic sex.

"Has it been a while since you've been out with someone?"

Eskel paused before answering softly, "Since before I got these," he gestures to the burn scars marring one side of his face.

Jaskier traced the scars softly, "Maybe it's time to put yourself back out there."

"Who would want me with this ugly mug?"

Jaskier scoffed, "A ton of people I'm sure. Considering how incredibly handsome this ugly mug is and how wonderful the man wearing it is."

Eskel smiled softly, "I'll think about it, Jask."

Jaskier wouldn't rest until he'd found someone who would love and appreciate Eskel the way he deserved.

A few more weeks passed and Jaskier was getting worried.

He and Geralt had been together for nearly a month but they had still mostly kept their relationship quiet, Geralt more likely to call Jaskier his friend rather than boyfriend, and Jaskier was positive Geralt hadn't mentioned the true nature of their relationship to his daughter.

Geralt hadn’t dated in a long time, not since Ciri was much younger, and he wasn’t sure how to go about talking to her about it now. Jaskier understood of course, and supported Geralt’s decision but… it had been a month, and Ciri wasn’t a child anymore.

It was starting to wear on Jaskier, so he decided it was time for them to talk about it.

Jaskier would be going over to Geralt’s later that night and it would be the perfect time to bring it up.

Jaskier wanted to enjoy the date, he really did, Geralt cooking him dinner was a wonderful treat, but all he could think about was how the only reason he had been invited over was because Ciri was staying the night with a friend. He was happy with Geralt, could truly see himself falling in love with the man, but he couldn’t be the dirty little secret.

The couple made it through dinner, Jaskier quieter than normal.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked as he picked up their plates to take to the sink.

Jaskier hummed quietly, his eyes focused on the table in front of him, “Yes, dear?”

“What’s wrong?”

Jaskier wanted to talk to him, to tell him his feelings, but the idea of rejection was too much to bear, “Nothing, darling.”

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier huffed, letting his anxieties take over, “Oh fine, I was planning on being a bit more tactful but here, I hate that you don’t take this relationship more seriously. It seems like I don’t even matter.”

Geralt looked stricken, “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Geralt you won’t introduce me as your boyfriend even though you claim that’s what we are! You won’t tell Ciri about us. What am I supposed to think, Geralt? It seems like you… you’re ashamed of me or something.”

Geralt seemed shocked, opening and closing his mouth a few times before responding, “I’m not, I swear I’m not. Jaskier I’m happy with you. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Jaskier deflated, “Then why are we a secret?”

“We aren’t… I just… I’m not comfortable with…” Geralt sat down heavily in a chair. “I don’t know how to do this, and I was afraid that if we told everyone… there would be more pressure. We’re happy now and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“But Geralt… I’m not happy,” the look on Geralt’s face at his words made Jaskier ache but he needed Geralt to understand, “darling, I think I love you, but I can’t be a secret, I can’t be hidden from your family and your friends. If we are going to be in a relationship then I want to be able to scream it from the rooftops, not have to hide in a closet if your daughter comes home early.”

Geralt was staring at his hands, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, “I… think I love you too. And I don’t want you to feel unwanted. I do want you and I want us to work. I was just… scared.” Geralt looked up suddenly, meeting Jaskier’s gaze, “We can tell everyone. Tonight, tomorrow, whenever you want!”

Jaskier laughed lightly, feeling relieved, and stood to walk around the table, stopping just in front of Geralt. Jaskier placed a gentle hand on Geralt’s face, the other man leaning into the touch, “Tonight, darling, I simply want to enjoy you.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

Geralt was pinned to the bed under Jaskier’s weight, with Jaskier lavishing his bare chest with attention. Geralt had just let out a filthy moan when they heard the bedroom door swing open.

The pair shot up, staring in horror as they realized Ciri had just walked in. She was standing just inside the door frame, a look of shock on her face. Just as Geralt went to say something, she turned around slowly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“Well…” Jaskier was blushing bright red, “I suppose we don’t really need to tell her we’re together anymore.”

Geralt rubbed a hand over his face, “No, I suppose we don’t. I should go apologize to her.”

After making themselves decent, the couple headed out into the living room where Ciri was sitting. Before either could say anything, Ciri spoke up, “I really don’t want to talk about it, if that’s what you’re planning on trying to do.”

They both nodded.

Ciri eyed Jaskier curiously, “Does this mean you’ll be spending Christmas with us?” Jaskier looked at Geralt, unsure of how to answer.

Geralt reached out and wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s waist, “That would be nice. Jaskier, would you like to join us for Christmas?”

Jaskier smiled so large his cheeks ached with it, “I would.”

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Tag list: @stinastar @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @hailhailsatan @moonysourenza @its-onions @elliestormfound @dapandapod @geraskier-trashh @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @negativenuggetz @veritasrose @feral-jaskier @kozkaboi

#the witcher #the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #hallmark au #modern au #baker jaskier #handyman geralt #diner owner geralt #i was feeling some gilmore girls vibes when i wrote this my bad #eskel #tris #ciri #smut #18+#mind the warnings

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doc-pickles · 3 years

Text

always free to run home

in which alex's dad shows up post 16x16

hello! i posted this fun little fic on AO3 awhile back but i'm also throwing it over here. shoutout to @mac-andcheeses for letting me use her brain child for this one!

“Hey, it's Alex. Leave me a message.”

“Karev, it's Miranda Bailey. Your dad is being treated at Grey Sloan for injuries he sustained during a car crash and he’s also detoxing from years of heavy drug use. We don’t have any other emergency contact for him, the only reason we knew who he was… That’s not important. I need you to come back to Seattle. I know you’ve got your picket fence and your perfect kids and your blonde ex wife out there in Kansas but you need to come back home.”

“Hey Junior. Can’t believe they really dragged your sorry ass out here. Doctor Bailey said I got a couple of grandkids out in Kansas. What the hell are you doing in Kansas?”

Alex rolls his eyes, ignoring his dad as he flips open his chart. Bailey had explained the situation when he had arrived just 30 minutes earlier but he wanted to see for himself just how bad it was looking for his father.

“They’re my kids but you’re not their grandpa. You don’t deserve that title,” Alex answers, not looking up from the chart. “Your liver is failing.”

“I know, that’s what they told me.”

“That doesn’t just happen overnight, you must have been in pain for a while.”

“You’re not giving me any new information, the leggy brunette doctor nearly chewed my ear off when I first came in,” Jimmy lets out a sigh and Alex decides to let his comment about his doctor slide. “I’m dying, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Do you just not care about anything? You’re about to die and all you can do is shrug your shoulders,” when Jimmy doesn’t respond Alex can’t help the frustrated groan that leaves him. “God I don’t even know why I came out here. You’re still the same guy that left us all those years ago aren’t you?”

Alex turns to leave but stops in his tracks when Jimmy speaks up, “Now that’s something you know a thing or two about isn’t it?” He doesn’t know how his dad knows the details of his escape from Seattle but his words make Alex’s blood boil as he turns to face Jimmy again, “Don’t you ever compare me to you. I left my whole life behind the minute I heard about my kids. I left my friends, my wife. Everything! I left the state to be there for my kids, I am nothing like you.”

“Trust me kid, I know all about your wife. Who do you think figured out who I was? Didn’t you see her name all over those tests?”

Alex practically lunges at the chart he’d just discarded. His eyes frantically scan the page, freezing almost immediately as he finds what he’s looking for.

Attending on the case: Doctor J. Karev

“She figured out pretty quick who I was, said we have the same crooked smile,” Jimmy is unphased by Alex’s mild freak out, continuing his story. “Didn’t say it outright but I saw her name on my chart and I knew. Well I pieced it together eventually, I’m not stupid.”

Alex finally looks back at Jimmy, anger still evident in his expression, “I know I fucked up by leaving Jo but you left our family! You left your kids behind!”

“And how exactly do you think I figured out who she was?”

Alex pauses, mind reeling at Jimmy’s words. He thinks he knows what he’s saying but Alex refuses to believe it. His dad was probably high still and trying to guilt trip him.

“I saw her, you ex wife. She was getting coffee and she had a baby, a little boy, all bundled up in his carrier. That’s when I figured it all out, the kid is your clone. Looks just like you did when your mom and I brought you home.

“Anyways the next day I overheard her talking to someone in the hall about how she couldn’t be on my case anymore. And it all made sense, the last name and the baby and everything. She stopped by earlier today and that short doctor told her you were coming. I think she went home to avoid you.”

Standing in a stunned silence Alex stares at the chart in his hands, still trying to fully process what his father is telling him. On the other hand Jimmy is talking a mile a minute but Alex can’t comprehend a word he’s saying.

“I gotta go,” Alex mutters the words as a half assed goodbye, sprinting out of the room and down to his rental car.

The loft is an easy destination, Alex’s body driving almost on autopilot. As he pulls into the back of the lot it occurs to him that in the year he’d been gone Jo might have moved. He’s about to call Meredith when the sleek black Audi he used to drive pulls in. He sits and stares in awe as Jo climbs out, opening the back door to grab a diaper bag and car seat before heading inside. He can’t see the baby from his vantage point but just the knowledge that he and Jo have a child together brings tears to his eyes.

He pulls himself together quickly, locking his car as he takes the steps up to the loft two at a time. It’s not until he’s standing at the door that he pauses, wondering if Jo rebbe wants to see him. Despite his reservations Alex knocks on the door, knowing he never wanted to live a life where he didn’t know all of his children.

The loft door slides open and for a moment the world around Alex is frozen. Jo is standing in front of him, eyes wide as she takes him in. As awestruck as Alex is seeing Jo for the first time in a year he can’t take his eyes off of the little boy in her arms. His dad was right, aside from the bright hazel eyes blinking up at him the kid is his clone, right down to the haphazard curls sticking up on his head.

“I… Bailey called me about my dad. And he said he saw you… I just needed to see for myself,” Alex shakes his head, as if the past year had suddenly come back to him. “I’m sorry I just barged in on you, I know you probably don’t want to see me. I’d really love to get to know him, you know where to reach me.”

Alex turns to leave, getting to the top of the stairs before Jo’s voice rings out, “His name is Blake. You two share a birthday.”

He doesn’t move as he processes what Jo’s just told him. There’s another beat of silence before she speaks again, “I didn’t know I was pregnant, you’d think a doctor of all people would know but I didn’t until I gave birth at home at 2 AM. He’s only three months old and by some miracle he’s perfect.”

Alex finally turns around, staring wordlessly at Jo who has tears streaking down her face. Blake is fading fast in her arms, struggling to keep his eyes open as Jo gently rocks him. It takes everything in him not to surge forward and wrap them both in his arms, but he knows not to push his luck with the woman he left so long ago.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called and told you about him but this has been the longest and scariest three months of my life. I didn’t have nine months to prepare and adjust to being a mom, I had minutes. And every minute since I first held our son in my arms has been full of me second guessing myself and trying to do what’s best for him.”

Jo’s chest is heaving now as she struggles to catch her breath. Her hand comes up to stifle the sob that comes out, Alex moving quickly to wrap her in his arms, “I know you’re a great mom Jo you don’t need to doubt that even for a minute. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”

“You being here wouldn’t have changed anything, except maybe you freaking out when I went to pee and came back with a baby,” Jo burrows herself further into Alex’s embrace. “We made a baby.”

“A pretty cute one too,” Alex is about to say more when he notices a ring of bruises around Jo’s wrist. She notices too, quickly pulling at her sleeves to cover the fresh black and blue marks. “Jo…”

Jo pulls away from Alex as she walks into the loft and sets Blake down in his crib, “I’m fine, it was just an accident at work last night.”

Alex steps in front of Jo as she attempts to walk away from him. He doesn’t reach out to hold her like he wants to, instead studying her nervous behavior, “You know you can tell me the truth, right?”

Jo nods, still hesitant to look up at Alex as she focuses on her hands, “It was just an altercation with a patient, Hunt stepped in before I could get seriously hurt.”

“Jo-”

“It’s fine!”

“It’s not fine, you were attacked by a patient.”

“And I’m not on the case anymore. So it’s-”

“Not fine! What would’ve happened if-”

“Nothing happened! And I don’t think it’s your place to worry about me.”

“Of course it is, it always will be.”

“Can you stop freaking out?” “You were hurt! Of course I’m going to-”

“It was Jimmy. It was your dad that… hurt me.”

There’s a stifling silence as Alex takes in what Jo’s just told him. She’s watching him nervously, as if he was going to blow his lid at any moment, but he just stays quiet. When she realizes that he’s not going to say anything, Jo breaks their eye contact and continues her story.

“He was detoxing and thought I was your mom,” Jo rolls up her sleeves to show Alex the large hand marks covering the bottom half of her arms. “I’m fine though, I got checked over and Blake was in his car seat the whole time.”

“Blake was with you?!”

“Yeah… I was just checking on Jimmy before I left. He had told me earlier that he wanted to see Blake, that he looked just like you did as a baby,” Jo still refuses to meet Alex’s worried gaze as she retells the events of the previous night. “When I got there things were fine but then I showed him Blake and Jimmy just… He started yelling at me and pushing me around the room. He was calling me Helen and asking why I hadn’t picked you up from school yet. I pushed Blake’s car seat out of the way right before he pinned me up against the wall. Thankfully I was able to reach the code blue button and Owen rushed in right before he punched me.”

Jo finally meets Alex’s eyes and it takes everything in him not to run out of the loft and find his father, to scream at him and kick and punch and make him pay for hurting Jo the way that he had hurt him and his mother. Instead he leans down and cups Jo’s cheeks, wiping the tears pooled there as he fixes her with a gentle look.

“I’m fine, I really am Alex. I was more worried about Blake through the whole thing,” Jo shrugs as Alex’s fingers float across her cheek. “I’m used to-”

Jo cuts her statement short as she realizes what she was about to say. Instead she shakes her head and breaks free from Alex’s hold on her as she walks to what used to be his dresser. She pulls out a pair of his ratty sweatpants and an old t shirt, handing them to him as she walks past him towards her bed, “You can stay on the couch tonight, you know where the blankets are.”

“I can wake up with Blake,” Alex quickly offers. “You have a ton of bottles up by the sink and I’ve made about a thousand of them in the NICU. You need the rest.”

Jo just nods, practically falling into bed with a sigh. By the time Alex comes out of the bathroom her soft snores are echoing through the loft.

When Jo wakes up the next morning Alex has scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom and folded the pile of laundry on the couch. He had let Jo sleep in, toting Blake around in his carrier while he cleaned the loft. While Jo was never the neatest person she would always get antsy when the loft started to get too unorganized or cluttered. He could tell just from the state of things that she was completely overwhelmed with the infant that had unexpectedly taken over her life.

“I made coffee,” Alex gestures to the steaming pot on the counter. “And Blake just went down for a nap.” Jo nods in appreciation, silently pouring a cup of coffee for herself before turning to Alex, “When are you going back to Kansas?”

“My flight is scheduled for late tonight,” Alex lets out a sigh as Jo turns away from him. “Jo come on, I didn’t even know about Blake until yesterday.”

Jo turns back towards him, anger replacing the sadness that was just there, “Because you left! You left me Alex! I’m not counting on you sticking around just because we have a baby together.”

“I’m not just going to abandon my kid Jo.”

“Well you abandoned your wife pretty easily so excuse me if I don’t exactly believe you,” Jo scoffs, tears welling in her eyes. “You wanna know why I never called? Because being a single mom sounds a lot easier than shipping my son across the country to see his dad and step mom and their perfect life on a farm. I know you want to be in Blake’s life but I’m not putting him on a plane every other weekend so you can do that.”

“Izzie and I aren’t together.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Your stupid letter-”

“Was a mistake! The biggest mistake that I have ever made and I am so sorry about that Jo, but I would never try to take Blake from you,” Alex pleads. “You have to know that, don’t you?” “I don’t know that, I don’t know anything about you,” Jo’s voice reaches a scream as she faces off with Alex. “You spent years telling me you weren’t leaving, even longer trying to show me that your actions were louder than your words. And you still left me in a freaking letter!”

“Jo-”

Jo finally turns away from Alex, running a hand through her hair, “I’m not arguing with you about this. You left and gave me no say in our divorce.” “I had to leave, I had to be there for my kids.”

“And I would’ve come if you had asked me,” there’s tears in Alex’s eyes as Jo speaks, her voice coming down from it’s roar. “If you want to talk about knowing people, you should’ve known that I would follow you anywhere Alex. Did nine years teach you nothing or are you just extraordinarily stupid?”

Alex’s phone rings and breaks the illusion that they’re alone in the world. He only glances at the text for a moment before he’s shoving his shoes on his feet and grabbing his wallet and keys. When he looks back at Jo she’s staring at him with an anxious expression.

“I’m not leaving, it’s just my dad and-”

“Go Alex.”

“I’m not-”

“Go. We’ll still be here.”

Alex only spares one more look at Jo before he’s rushing out the door to Grey Sloan. He doesn’t know why he feels some sick sense of honor towards the man that abandoned him and gave him more trust issues than he can name, but he knows he needs to see his dad.

“Karev, your dad coded a little while ago,” Bailey begins to explain the situation as soon as Alex walks up to her. “Because of his long term drug use his heart is weak. He’s stable for now but… I would be shocked if he made it through the night.”

Alex nods his thanks to Bailey as he walks into Jimmy’s room. His dad is laying completely still, the slow and steady beeping monitors the only sign that he’s still alive. Alex settles into the seat next to the bed, watching his dad for a long moment. He hated him for years for everything he had put their family through, the way he had abandoned them and hurt his mom beyond repair. In fact Alex couldn’t help but feel a cruel kinship with his father, both men having broken their families into seemingly unfixable pieces.

“Alex.”

The soft voice shocks him but Alex looks up to meet his dad's gaze. He can tell it’s taking everything in him to form words but that doesn’t stop Jimmy.

“Kid, you’re nothin’ like me. That girl loves you more than you know and you’ve got a chance to do right by her and that little boy,” Jimmy lets out a cough and reaches out for Alex’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did. You’re a much better man than I ever was.”

It’s silent after that, Alex sitting and holding his dad's hand until the monitors around him fall silent an hour later. He sits with him for a while more before leaving, going back to the hotel room he had rented instead of the loft like he had wanted to. There’s a million thoughts running through his head but one rings louder than the rest.

Don’t make the same mistakes I did.

Logically Alex knows he should’ve called or texted or even sent another letter to Jo. Maybe not the letter, but it had been two weeks since his dad had passed and he had left Seattle without a word to anyone. He feels bad for leaving Jo once again but he also knows that his decision is for the best.

He’s not shocked even a little when Jo opens the loft door and scowls at him. Blake is on the floor of the living room batting at colorful shapes on his playmat and Alex is thankful that he at least seems happy.

“Hi.”

“Hey asshole,” Jo scoffs and turns around, leaving the door open for Alex but not acknowledging him. “You said you were going to the hospital and then you left. You specifically said you weren’t leaving and then you left. Again.”

“I know.”

Jo picks up the laundry basket on the couch and begins to put away the folded clothes, “I’m not really interested in whatever it is you have to say Alex. I’m done believing anything you say because every time I do I just get hurt.”

“l bought a house in Queen Anne,” Alex watches as the laundry basket in Jo’s hands tumbles to the ground, her eyes wide as she stares at him with unwavering attention. “I know you always liked the neighborhood and it’s right around the corner from Meredith. It’s a two story with some extra bedrooms and it’s got a big backyard for Blake to run around in with the twins when they come to visit in the summers. I already talked to Izzie and she said she’s more than happy to let them visit. And uh Bailey gave me my job back, as head of peds.”

Jo’s hand flies up to her mouth as she stares at Alex in shock. He at least has the decency to look somewhat ashamed for having left without a word, but the sight of her so emotional over his return makes him feel slightly better.

“I’m staying in Seattle, I’m going to be here for Blake. I can’t… I’m not my dad. I’m not going to leave my kid or my… you. I’m not letting you do this alone Jo, you don’t deserve that,” Alex takes a deep breath and chances another look at Jo who now has tears running down her cheeks. “I’m sorry I didn’t call but I wanted to wrap things up back in Kansas and have everything lined up here. I promise that anytime you call or text from now on that I’ll answer. I’m not going to make the same mistakes I did before.”

The last word barely slips out of Alex’s mouth before Jo is across the loft, throwing herself into his hold. A sigh of relief leaves Alex as he wraps her in his arms, pressing his lips to her hair. They stay that way for a few minutes, just enjoying being close before Jo pulls back.

“Thank god, the loft is getting crowded and I’m worried Blake is gonna end up electrocuting himself or something when he starts crawling because I never had time to baby proof,” Jo blinks up at Alex, who looks confused at her statement. “What did you think I wasn’t going to come with you?”

“I-“

Before he can say anything in return Jo’s lips are against his and for the first time in months Alex feels well and truly at home.

#jolex babies #jolex fanfiction #jo x alex #jo karev #jolex fanfic #jo wilson #jolex #alex karev #grey’s anatomy #grey’s anatomy fanfic #nina writes

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lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 4: Fethry [ao3 link]

He’d been told from a very young age that he was a “curious child.” He wandered into places he wasn’t supposed to go, he would stare into space for prolonged periods of time, his mood could do a complete 180 in less than a second.

Now at the age of thirteen, Fethry had gone from a “curious child” to a “curious teenager.” But he liked being curious! He enjoyed learning new things and figuring stuff out and finding patterns and seeing the beautiful side of stuff that other people might consider ugly. That was just how he liked to look at the world, and he didn’t see a problem with it.

Uncle Scrooge saw a lot of problems with it. So did his cousin Donald, though cousins Della and Gladstone didn’t seem to have any issues. Duckworth didn’t ever comment, but Fethry had a feeling the butler was just being polite. He liked the politeness, but sometimes it just left him more confused.

Unlike with Donald, who stopped being polite when they were kids and just got annoyed with his cousin when he was being too nosey. In this particular moment, Donald had just yelled at Fethry to get out of his room because he was “distracting him and he needed to be in the zone to work on his music” which Fethry thought made a lot of sense. Della was currently out and Gladstone was temporarily living in Scotland while some complicated adoption things were being figured out so they hadn’t seen him in about two months.

So, although normally he wasn’t supposed to, Fethry decided to wander aimlessly around the mansion. Duckworth wasn’t nearby to stop him and Uncle Scrooge was who-knew-where! He wandered past the bedrooms and down the stairs - looking up at the hundreds of portraits and paintings of Uncle Scrooge and his accomplishments. There were some other people - Uncle Scrooge’s parents and other relatives, mostly, nobody Fethry really recognized. But all the men had long whiskers, so it seemed like they were probably McDucks.

He was staring at a particularly interesting portrait of Scrooge holding a pick-axe and a bag of gold when Fethry was startled by a noise coming from upstairs. It wasn’t coming from the direction of Donald’s room - in fact, it was coming from the other side of the mansion, where the adult’s bedrooms were. Maybe Duckworth dropped something while moving furniture?

Fethry made his way towards the source of the noise so he could help, just in case. As he climbed the last stair, there was another noise, though it wasn’t as loud, and he could tell it was definitely coming from Uncle Scrooge’s bedroom.

He waddled over and stopped in front of the door, knowing he shouldn’t go in without knocking first. Or at least figuring out what was going on. Fethry leaned the side of his head against the door, listening close for any clues.

He heard two voices - one was Uncle Scrooge and the other was unfamiliar but very pretty - and they sounded mad at each other. He couldn’t figure out exactly what they were saying since their voices were kind of muffled, but it was definitely an argument of some sort. Fethry wondered briefly if they were fighting and the noise had come from that. It felt weird to imagine Uncle Scrooge fighting a girl...besides Magica De Spell. Or Ma Beagle. Or, well, okay, maybe it wasn’t that weird.

Footsteps started getting closer to the door and Fethry backed away before he could get caught eavesdropping (his mom would be upset if she knew he was doing that again). And suddenly the door opened up, revealing a woman with shiny blonde hair and slightly graying roots who was currently buttoning the top button of her blouse.

Fethry tilted his head curiously and she yelped when she noticed him.

“Oh god, not another one of you,” the woman grumbled. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Well isn’t that a surprise?” Uncle Scrooge’s voice carried out of the room. “Goldie O’Gilt in a bad mood? Not wanting to be nice to children? Oh, I never could’ve imagined that!”

She turned back towards the room and grabbed the doorknob. “Screw you, Moneybags!” she shouted as the slammed the door shut.

When she turned around again, she found that Fethry hadn’t moved and was still staring up at her.

“What?”

“If your name is Goldie…” Fethry mumbled, remembering things his cousins had told him. “...does that mean you’re my Aunt Goldie?”

Goldie pinched the bridge of her beak between two fingers and sighed. “I’m not doing this again,” she said as she started to walk towards the stairs.

Fethry followed her, unable to stop his curiosity. “Did you and Uncle Scrooge get into a fight? Are you gonna get a divorce?”

“We’re not married.”

“Why not?” Fethry poked his beak with his pointer finger. “Wait, if you’re not married, then how are you my aunt?”

She sighed loudly. “I’m not your aunt.”

The kid frowned and thought about that for a moment as he watched her head down the stairs. He followed and quickly caught up. “If you’re not my aunt, then why does everyone call you Aunt Goldie?”

“Because you kids are annoying, is why,” Goldie grumbled, refusing to make eye contact with this child. She was still ashamed of herself for bonding too much with Donald and Della and then Gladstone, of all children to bond with. She was not going to make that mistake again. She would refuse to even learn this red hatted child’s name.

“I’m not a kid, I’m a teenager!” Fethry said with a big smile. “My name’s Fethry!”

Goldie wanted to smack her head into the wall, but chose to keep her cool and continue down the stairs instead. Why did Scrooge have so many stairs? If she wasn’t so desperate to get out of his room and away from him, she would’ve just scaled down the outside wall like usual. But she needed to steal something from the old miser to feel better about how much of a jerk he was.

“Fantastic. Now you can leave me alone.”

Fethry did no such thing and continued to follow her, especially as she turned towards the study instead of towards the front door. “Where are you going?”

“Just trying to find something worth taking that’ll piss your uncle off.”

He stopped following her for a moment, trying to understand what she’d just said. He didn’t understand how adult relationships worked, that was certain, but they seemed very different from his parents. His parents barely ever fought and also they lived together and were married, so there were a lot of immediate differences. Fethry realized suddenly that Goldie had wandered into another room and quickly followed her before she could get away.

She was looking through the china cabinet when he found her again, and made no acknowledgement that she’d noticed him coming up behind her. She grabbed a particularly expensive-looking set of glasses and stared at them in her hands.

“Are you gonna steal those?” Fethry asked suddenly and a little too loudly.

Goldie, not having noticed the kid since she was so focused on the glassware, let out a loud QUACK! and dropped the glasses. She reached out to grab them as they fell, but only managed to save one as the other smashed onto the floor and they both flinched at the loud crash and shards of glass spreading out everywhere.

She turned around and glared at Fethry, angry at him for sneaking up on her and angrier at herself for not noticing him. She thought she’d lost him and let her guard down and this is exactly the kind of thing that happened when she spent too much time around children.

“Do you need something?” Goldie seethed, picking Fethry up by his armpits and plopping him on top of the closest table.

“Nope!” Fethry said with another smile. “Sorry you dropped that glass. Is Uncle Scrooge gonna be mad at you?”

His innocence was annoying her in ways she couldn’t begin to describe. “He’ll get over it. Now look. Hey.” She snapped her fingers in front of Fethry’s face, noticing that he was staring down at the pieces of glass instead of listening to her. “Listen up. I’m going to leave now and you’re not going to follow. There’s glass all over the floor and it’ll cut up your feet if you try to follow me. Got it?”

He tilted his head again. “But what about your feet?”

Goldie lifted up one of her legs and pointed down at her sneakers. “I’ll be fine.” She started to walk away, deciding that breaking one glass and stealing another would be good enough for the moment, when Duckworth stepped into the room holding a broom and dustpan.

“Duckworth.”

“Miss O’Gilt. You don’t normally break things...did something happen?”

She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “He startled me, not my fault.”

Duckworth responded with a raised eyebrow and Goldie pouted before turning around to see that Fethry was not on the table where she left him. She paused for a moment before looking down and she should not have been surprised to find the kid standing next to her and staring up with the same curious eyes as before.

She yelped in surprise at seeing him so close, and once again felt stupid about it. “What did I just say to you?!”

Fethry shrugged. “Yeah, but...Duckworth is here to clean up the glass, so it’s fine now!”

Duckworth shook his head and started sweeping up the glass while Goldie frowned. “Okay no, see, he hadn’t done that yet, so it’s not fine. And also, um…” She paused and looked around the room for a moment. “Oh, what’s that over there?” she asked, feigning excitement and pointing towards the back door.

Fethry turned and looked, excitement plastered all over his face. “What is it?!” he asked and took a step forward. Seeing nothing different than usual, he turned back around to ask Aunt Goldie what she’d seen, only to find that she was gone. “Huh...where’d she go?”

Duckworth finished sweeping up the glass and dumped it into the nearest trash can. “I believe she’s gone.”

“Oh. But...where?” Fethry asked as he walked towards the foyer.

The butler followed, glancing at the walls to see if Goldie had stolen anything else. “Miss O’Gilt tends to be unpredictable. It’s hard to say where she goes when she leaves the mansion.”

“Aww,” Fethry pouted, kicking at the carpet. “I like her! She was real nice!”

“...is that so?”

“Yeah!” Fethry did a little spin and fell onto his butt. “She’s nothing like my other aunts, though.”

Duckworth smirked at that comment and considered correcting the child, but before he could even think about it, Scrooge shuffled down the stairs and took over.

“That’s because she’s not your aunt!” he shouted angrily, adjusting his coat and hat as he walked. “She’s a no-good thief who just likes to interrupt my life and steal from me and piss me off and mess with you kids! You shouldn’t listen to anything she says, especially not if it’s about me or our history! All she does is lie, lie, lie!”

Fethry looked a little sad and confused at Scrooge’s rant, so Duckworth, seeing that there was unnecessary conflict about to be had, interrupted. “Either way, she’s gone now, Mr. McDuck. And you have a meeting with the board in about twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, alright,” Scrooge grumbled. “Let’s just go.”

Fethry watched them walk towards the garage and frowned more. The way Uncle Scrooge talked about Aunt Goldie was weird and kind of sad. She hadn’t said anything like that about him, though Fethry wondered if she would’ve had he asked.

A noise from outside caught Fethry’s attention and he turned towards the windows by the front door. He spotted a bit of blonde hair and smiled at the realization that Aunt Goldie was still nearby. Then he frowned as he realized that meant she’d heard all the mean things Uncle Scrooge said about her. Maybe it didn’t bother her so much. But maybe it did and she just didn’t say anything. Fethry thought she was kind of mysterious and interesting.

He watched her rush away from the house and wondered if he’d ever see her again. He leaned back on his heels for a moment before deciding to go back to Donald’s room and ask him about everything he’d just watched. Donald would probably be able to explain.

#ducktales #fethry duck #goldie o'gilt #scrooge mcduck #duckworth #donald duck #fic #fics #not your aunt

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Perfect Opposites

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1843

Find it on AO3

Tagging: @today-in-fic

It’s jealousy that fuels all the gossip, and the unkind comments. Jealousy from the men because she’ll never so much as give them a passing glance, and jealousy from the women because they feel inferior in her presence. Because thanks to her, Fox Mulder is no longer a prize to be won by new recruits. Gone are the betting pools about which young, sexy new agent would successfully take him to bed (the tall brunette always had the most bets), and numerous are the men who boasted to their buddies that they would be the one to get her number, to take her out, to fuck her, with nothing to show for it. She didn’t even bother to reject them, just ignored their attempts at small talk and walked away with a tight lipped smile, leaving their egos bruised and “ice queen” on their lips. They called him Spooky because as whacky as his ideas were, he could still charm their girlfriend into a weekend fling with minimal effort and they knew it. They were all jealous, from the seasoned senior agents to the ones fresh from Quantico. Every last one.

I’ve always taken a special interest in them, Agent Mulder and Agent Scully, given my history. I noticed Agent Mulder and Agent Fowley too, before, but I knew it wasn’t anything special. I didn’t see myself in them the way I do when I watch him with Scully. I picked up on the difference right away; how he looked at her, and touched her casually. I saw something familiar in his gaze, the sadness and the longing. She seemed oblivious to it for the first few years, always so painfully poised and professional, but eventually she caught on. While everyone else called her “ice queen” behind her back, I saw how she leaned into him when he whispered in her ear, and the quirk of a smile that played at the corners of her lips. That same sadness and longing in her eyes when she looked at him, stealing glances while he was focused on AD Skinner at the front of the room. Sometimes they’d touch the other’s knee under the table and exchange a knowing look. I can’t see through tables, but if you know what you’re looking for, you’ll find it. And I knew she wasn’t cold and without feelings. She just didn’t allow very many people in, but she allowed him in.

When Agent Fowley came back, I immediately thought of Agent Scully and how she might be feeling. She’d probably be threatened, and jealous, though she really didn’t need to be. Agent Mulder never once looked at Agent Fowley the way he looks at her, even when they were in a relationship. Even when they lived together. I guess Agent Scully doesn’t know what I know, because I saw how upset she was by Agent Fowley’s presence. The set of her jaw, the way she crossed her legs and leaned away from Agent Mulder, putting distance between them both physically and emotionally. She was protecting herself, or trying to. It’s been painful for me to watch, though I know I’m biased in wanting them to be together. I’ve told myself over and over not to get involved, that she probably doesn’t even know I exist, much less will she listen to what I have to say. She’s a private person, she would never talk to me about something she likely hasn’t even admitted to herself. My resolve crumbled, though, the day I saw her crying in her car in the parking garage.

I can’t know for sure that’s why she was crying, I will admit as much. But because I’ve been there and walked that path, and because I’ve been watching them for so long, I feel so strongly that she was crying over him. Over her, Agent Fowley, stealing Agent Mulder away. She doesn’t need to worry, but she does, and it just hurt my heart to see it. I told myself that if I ever happened to be alone with her, I would say something. I can’t recall ever having been alone with her before, so if it happened by chance, it would be a sign.

Imagine my surprise when I was washing my hands in the bathroom and she came out of the only other occupied stall, eyes puffy and the final sniffs of a covert crying session still crinkling her nose. It was only she and I in the bathroom. It was the sign I was looking for.

I said “hello” and she looked at me startled, like she hadn’t even realized I was there. That happens a lot lately, I’ve noticed. While I was once the young hot thing at the bureau, my late 50’s haven’t been especially kind. You become invisible, as an aging woman. Someday she might know what that’s like too.

“Hi” she responded, curtly, but not without some warmth. She wasn’t rude, but she also wasn’t looking to chat.

“Agent Scully, I realize you probably don’t know me from a hole in the wall, but-“

“-Agent Hansen, right?” She forced a smile. I didn’t do a very good job hiding my surprise that she knew my name. I nodded, and barreled on before I lost my nerve. She’s even more beautiful up close than she is across a conference room table.

“Right, Agent Hansen. Um, I don’t mean to be nosy, and I’m not asking you to share any personal information or anything, but I wanted to tell you…”

She was watching me suspiciously by way of the mirror while she washed her hands. Just get it out, damnit.

“…I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to worry about Agent Fowley.”

She straightened up and turned to face me while she dried. If I thought she looked suspicious before, I didn’t know how many flavors of suspicion she possessed.

“How do you mean?” She asked me, and I knew she was curious even more than she was uncomfortable.

“I mean, you don’t need to worry about her and Agent Mulder. He’s not in love with her.”

She balked.

“What? Why would you say that to me? Agent Mulder is my partner. Nothing more.”

Sensing that she was about to bolt, I went for it.

“Agent Scully, just hear me out, okay? You don’t have to say anything, but please listen. I was like you once. I’ve been with the bureau a long time, and when I was in my late 20’s I was assigned a partner who was nothing like me at all. He was tidy and methodical and I have more of a ‘bull in china shop’ approach to life. But we became very close, and after several years we became…involved. He was the love of my life, and when I see you and Agent Mulder together, the way he looks at you, it reminds me of the way Harry used to look at me. I was here when Agent Mulder and Agent Fowley were together, as partners and as lovers, and I can tell you that he NEVER looked at her the way he looks at you. I know that she’s intimidating and it’s got you all out of sorts, I can see that, and I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to worry.”

Her expression was rapt but also quite emotionless.

“You can see what? What makes you think I…that Agent Fowley bothers me?”

I shook my head and waved my arms to indicate that she didn’t need to worry about THAT either.

“No no, it’s not obvious, Agent Scully. I know you work very hard to hide it. I only notice because, well this sounds creepy I’m sure, but I’ve always taken an interest in you, because you remind me of myself. It’s only because I’ve observed you so much with Agent Mulder that I can see how much she bothers you.”

She let out a breath of relief, then looked around the bathroom, as though it had just occurred to her to make sure no one else was in there.

“So, you and your partner, you got together?” She didn’t look at my face when she asked. She was embarrassed to even be curious.

“Yes, we did, about 8 years after we were assigned to work together.”

“And, um, what happened? At work?” Curiosity got the better of her after all.

“We were split up, and he was reassigned to VCU. I’ve been here in the bullpen ever since. We got married, had two beautiful daughters.” Because I know her expressions so well, I caught the almost-smile that she quickly suppressed.

“Is he still in VCU?” The wrinkle in her eyebrows told me she was trying to figure out who he was. All the guys down there these days are pretty young.

“He passed away a couple years ago, from a heart attack. But he worked up until the day he died.”

Her hand reflexively went to the cross at her neck, her mouth falling open in an “I’m so sorry” look that I’ve become very familiar with since Harry died. I kept talking to save her from offering condolences.

“It’s sad, yes, but we had 20 wonderful years together. Harry said we were ‘perfect opposites’ and that we each made half of a whole person. So you can see, then, why I can see my own story in you and Agent Mulder. Maybe you’re not ready, yet, to take that next step, and that’s okay. It took us 8 years. But I see how much you’re bothered by Agent Fowley and I just promised myself that if I ever had a chance, I’d tell you that you don’t need to worry. Agent Mulder is in love with you.”

She looked at me then, shocked, like I’d said something unspeakable. She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it, looked at the floor and said “thank you” so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.

I left then, pretty sure I had done all I could. I told AD Skinner I wasn’t feeling well and took the rest of the day off, and stopped by the coffee shop around the corner to get two drips; one black and one with cream and sugar. After that I drove out to the little cemetery to visit Harry, and tell him what I did. As always, I poured his black coffee into the ground for him, and sipped mine while I updated him on our favorite star-crossed agents, the other set of ‘perfect opposites.’ I wish that he had lived to see the day they finally get their heads out of their asses, but if they’re anything like us, they’ll need plenty of time to accept the obvious. And if they’re anything like us, once they finally come to their senses, they’ll wish desperately that they hadn’t wasted one minute on this Earth not loving each other, because forever is never as long as you think it will be.

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bnhayyy · 3 years

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No Apology Enough

Summary: Ochako sought Bakugou out in the hospital to discuss their shared grief. She didn't expect guilt to make an appearance.

Wordcount: 2.8k

Notes: Contains spoilers for the war arc. Can be found on Ao3 here. If you like it, please consider commenting, sending an ask, or donating to my ko-fi!

She could not stop the rhythmic tap, tap, tap from resonating through the hospital no matter how softly she tried to step. The sound was all-consuming in its quietness, seeming to highlight the silence around it. That hospital itself was not quiet, of course. There was always something to be heard if you strained your ears: the distant beeping of a heart monitor, the squeaking of wheels as orderlies pushed their carts around, the quiet murmuring of doctors, the creaking of doors as they opened and closed, the distant crying of a patient as they encountered a new form of despair.

There was always something to be heard in a hospital. It might be quiet, but it was there. What was absent were the sounds that came with any sort of happy life. It was static, fragile, hopeless. It was the sort of simultaneous noise and silence that made gentle tapping of sneakers against linoleum—the sound of life and motion—stand out starkly.

Ochako didn't remember it being so bad while she was in the hospital, yet now that she was returning for a quick visit, it was suffocating.

The feeling intensified as she drew closer to a certain room. Ochako's pace began to slow without her realizing it, her eyes automatically drawn toward the door. It was plain, with a few papers attached to it. Such an inconspicuous thing, and yet beyond it, she knew—

Did she know? The receptionist had told her that he was still asleep, but the receptionist was only human. Fallible. But him, he was—the thought of him being stuck like that—

Maybe the receptionist was wrong. Or maybe they weren't, but he had only just woken up and they didn't know yet. Or maybe he hadn't, but would if she just went inside. Her presence hadn't changed anything, but maybe this time, if she just hoped a little harder or believed in him a little more, said the right thing or—

No.

Ochako blinked and found her arm outstretched, fingertips millimeters away from brushing the doorknob. When had she walked over to the door?

Her throat felt like it was being scraped by shards of glass as she took a step back. Then another. And another. Finally, she turned back around and continued down the hall. She picked up her pace and balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. There was nothing she could do to keep her eyes from watering, but she handled it by rapidly blinking. It felt like her eyes were mostly dry by the time she reached the door that heralded her destination. Good. This wasn't something she could walk into teary-eyed.

Where the other door had been wood with several papers attached to it, this one was a metal frame surrounding an unobscured pane of plexiglass. A little garden was on the other side. Most of it was composed of a verdant green lawn, but the edges were adorned with bushes, patches of flowers, and little statues of angels.

There was also a stone bench. And on that bench sat a familiar figure.

Ochako took a moment to blink any remaining moisture out of her eyes before pushing the door open.

"Bakugou?"

He shot a look over his shoulder at her call. The motion was quick, but stiff and strained in a way that made Ochako wince. All but a few small bandages had been removed from Bakugou's face, but she could see more under his collar, peeking up from the high-necked shirt he wore.

A pang of guilt echoed in Ochako's chest. She hadn't thought the hospital was too bad, but she hadn't been stuck in it for very long. Bakugou had been stuck for over a week now. He wasn't the only one, she remembered the sorry state Todoroki had been in the last time she'd seen him, yet the thought of someone as explosive and wild as Bakugou being left to waste away stung that much more keenly.

At least Deku doesn't know he... the thought fizzled out before it could finish.

"Round Face?" Bakugou asked. It was only then that she realized it had taken him an unusually long time to respond. Sure, maybe not by other people's standards, but for Bakugou Katsuki, a few seconds might as well be an hour.

It was as she was considering this that Bakugou narrowed his eyes. Ochako frowned and nearly took a step back; had he picked up on the concern that had stepped up to join the guilt? The last thing she wanted was to offend him with her worry.

Then again, a traitorous voice whispered, you didn't help rescue him from the villains because you didn't want to offend him.

Ochako hadn't hurt the odds by staying behind back then. She knew that. Her absence didn't make anything worse—it couldn't have. But it hadn't helped with anything either. She'd lived with that knowledge without it bothering her for months, but now...

"What are you doing here?" Bakugou pressed, his voice sparking with irritation. It was almost a relief. If he was able to get annoyed with her, at least this place hadn't completely crushed his spirit.

"The receptionist told me I could find you here," Ochako said. She felt an uncomfortable tightness in her fingers as she spoke. A quick glance down revealed that she had clasped her hands in front of herself and started wringing them at some point. She resisted the urge to grimace as she forced herself to drop them down to her side.

Bakugou scoffed. "Traitorous old bat," he grumbled. His gaze wandered behind her, as if he could glare at the old lady behind the visitation counter if only he strained hard enough. Or maybe he was looking for something else entirely. Someone else. He stayed that way for several heartbeats before his attention snapped back to Ochako, as if he had never looked away in the first place.

But he had looked. He had looked, and in doing so, the tension that was already hanging in the air had become that much heavier.

"Not that," Bakugou clarified.

"Then why did you call the receptionist a traitorous old bat?" Ochako asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could think to try and stop them. Perhaps it was better that she didn't. Anything to loosen the invisible noose that hung around both their necks.

"Because she is!" Bakugou cried. He threw a hand up to run it through his hair. It only got about halfway through before a bandage wrapped around his palm seemed to get caught on a lock. He yanked the hand free with a growl and dropped it into his lap. His eyes followed it, causing him to turn away from Ochako in the process.

Ochako hesitated. There was nothing to do in this situation, it seemed, except hesitate. Unless...

She approached him slowly—carefully. As if he were a predator that would lash out if she misunderstood and did the wrong thing, or maybe a smaller animal, injured and cornered. Maybe he was a bit of both.

He didn't say anything as she sat down next to him. In return, she maintained the silence. She didn't know how long they sat without speaking. Then, in a voice that was neither rough nor fragile, but fractured all the same, he said, "I meant why are you with me and not Deku."

Ochako swallowed heavily. There it was, the billion-yen question. The one she had known was coming but didn't have an answer to. At least, not one that she could trust he would be alright with receiving.

She could just tell him a lie that would appeal to his ego. It would be the easier thing to do. She was almost certain it was what he would be happier with.

It wasn't what he needed, though. And after everything that had happened, everything their class had gone through, what they were still struggling with... the truth could sting even when it was supposed to be soft. It could insult and it could chafe. Yet as she thought about it, maybe there was a degree of respect in telling someone a difficult truth when a lie would be so much easier for everyone.

Bakugou deserved her respect, even if only in return for giving her his. Did he know, she wondered, the weight that held in her heart?

It wasn't just respect returned though. It couldn't be. They might not have been as close to each other as some of their classmates, but the fact remained...

"He isn't my only friend in the hospital," Ochako said.

Bakugou snorted, but didn't rebuff her remark. It was an admittedly low bar. It was enough. It gave her the will to push forward, her voice lowering ever so fractionally as she continued, "and... I know I'm not the only one struggling with it."

She didn't know how, yet despite the fact that he was looking down and away from her, if asked, Ochako would have sworn that she saw Bakugou's expression darken.

"I shouldn't," Bakugou said. The heavy tone of his voice made Ochako squirm, but before she could attempt to piece together a response, he continued, "I don't have the right."

That made her pause.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Bakugou's head twitched fractionally, like he was going to look at her, but his gaze ultimately remained on the ground. Ochako felt her hands twitch in agitated frustration.

"Caring about someone isn't something you have to earn, Bakugou," she said. "Especially not when they're hurt like this!"

"You don't get it!" Bakugou snapped. He finally looked up to reveal eyes that were growing red around the rims and a glare that managed to convey more despair than anger. "You have eyes, don't you! I've treated him like shit. And it used to be worse. Way fucking worse.”

His voice cut off with a strangled noise that sounded like it should be an expression of rage. She knew it wasn't. Not rage that was geared toward her or Deku, anyway.

“What do you mean?” Ochako tentatively asked.

Bakugou scoffed. "Isn't it obvious?"

He paused, all too clearly waiting for a response. When she failed to give him anything but silence and a soft, questioning gaze, he looked back down at his feet.

"Bakugou," Ochako pressed, her voice only just loud enough to reach him. "What do you mean by worse?"

Silence. His jaw flexed and relaxed several times. It was an odd sight to see on someone who was usually so quick to say whatever was on his mind. As the silence dragged on, nervous energy began to gather in her hands. She placed them in her lap and wove her fingers together in the hope that it might eliminate it. No such luck. Ochako stared blankly at them for a few seconds before looking back up at Bakugou. He was still staring at his feet, looking very much lost in his own mind.

Did I push too far?

The thought was accompanied by the feeling of her heart threatening to sink into her stomach. She bit her lower lip and tried to push the feeling down, only for it to intensify instead.

Just as Ochako moved to open her mouth, Bakugou began, "A lot of that shit isn't mine to say."

Ochako unclasped her hands and sat up a little straighter. Suddenly, that urge to move was nowhere to be found.

"But I gave Deku a lot of grief because he... because he wasn't as strong as me. Because I didn't want him to have the chance to get stronger than me." Bakugou looked up, and for a second, his gaze caught hers. That look managed to say what his voice didn't. It said, I was scared. And maybe he still was, because although he didn't look back down at the ground, he did break eye-contact before he continued. "Then, just before UA, I said something fucking unforgivable. And now he's like this."

Ochako's swallowed even though it felt like her throat was full of razors. "Whether it's forgivable or not... that's not for you to decide," she said.

"Only a moron would forgive something like that," Bakugou growled.

"Well, maybe you have to be a little bit of a moron to be a good person. And Deku's a very good person."

Bakugou's gaze twitched a little more to the side, a little further away from her line of sight. She thought she saw his eyes glisten.

"Have you talked to him about it?" she asked.

Bakugou took a deep, rasping breath. The sound of it almost made her wince. "A little," he said. "During the fight."

Ochako opened her mouth—and shut it immediately. A voice in her head nagged her to ask what had happened, but a subtle yet unwavering ache in her chest said that it wasn't any of her business. Whatever had happened, it clearly hadn't been enough to put his heart and mind at ease.

"You can always talk some about it together," she suggested. "After... after he wakes up."

The breath seemed to leave her chest as the words left her lips. Had that been the right thing to say? Already she felt herself tensing, prepared to argue in defense of optimism if Bakugou tried to assume the worst.

Instead, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he murmured.

And that—the sheer exhaustion he radiated—was almost worse.

"Hey." Ochako's body moved without thinking. She reached out to press the palm of her hand against Bakugou's face, one pinky carefully pulled back. The warmth of his skin against hers was a jolt to her senses, but not as much as his eyes opening and latching onto hers, making her breath catch in her throat, just for a moment. Yet somehow, somehow, she managed to keep talking. "There's also something else you can do."

"Oh yeah?" His voice was challenging, a bit of that edge creeping back in, but he didn't pull away from her touch. Not yet. And that, more than anything, spoke volumes. It helped her to smile. Not because she was happy, but not because she was forcing it either. She smiled because he needed it. They both did.

"Yeah," she said. "You can try to get better. As a hero, but also as a friend, as a civilian... as a person." Something in Bakugou's expression faltered, but she carried on. "I know that Deku believes in you, and it sounds like he's seen you at your worst. So when he wakes up... let him see you at your best."

In the seconds that followed, neither of them spoke. There was no room for words in the lingering void left by the person that wasn't there. It was a weight that would haunt both of them until Izuku was a waking part of their lives once more. However, a few seconds could not last forever. Bakugou nodded, and she dropped her hand back into her lap.

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "I might do that." He paused for a heartbeat before chuckling, a grin that might have worried her at another time spreading across his face. Instead, she just felt relieved. "Sleeping dumbfuck will never see it coming. I'll make him piss himself in amazement!"

Ochako couldn't quite take his bold vulgarity at face value. There was still a whisper of something pained and hesitant behind his eyes. It was progress though—in more ways than one.

"I look forward to it," she said.

"You should." Bakugou stood up. It looked like it was meant to be a bold, sudden motion, but it struck her as stumbling and difficult. Unable to help herself, Ochako winced and began to extend a hand, only for him to wave her off. "If I can walk without crutches, I sure as hell can walk without someone holding my hand," he said.

Said. Not yelled. Said. Ochako allowed a hint of a smile to pull at her lips. "Alright."

"I'm gonna head back to my room before the nurses flip their shit," he added.

Ochako nodded. "Alright. I... think I'll stay here for a little while." She glanced around the little garden, with its bushes and flowers—an oasis of respite in a place of misery. "It's peaceful."

"It's boring as shit," Bakugou grumbled.

"Some of us like boring sometimes," Ochako shot back.

Bakugou snorted. "You have shit taste." With that, he hobbled over to the hospital door. He didn't look back at her as he called, "see you around, Round Face."

Then it was just her and the garden—which was just as well. She had a lot to think about.

#izukacchako #kacchako #bakudeku #izuocha #ochako uraraka #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha #bnha fic #My Hero Academia #my writing #my fic #friendship #pre-relationship #mutual pining #hurt/comfort #and of course #ANGST

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plotting-against-you · 3 years

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Hold You, Console You, Really Get to Know You

Fandom: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)

Characters: Ryan Hudson, Nancy Drew

Synopsis: He knew a panic attack when he saw one. He’d had a few of them throughout his life, and he knew that Lucy had too, but he never wanted his child to experience anything like it. Knowing that he and Lucy had passed on this terrible disease to their baby made him feel awful, but at least he knew how to help.

Prompt: Based on a prompt I received from ao3: "Could you do one where, while Ryan is living with them, he sees Nancy having a panic attack and learns she has anxiety and depression she calls him dad as well."

Warnings: Anxiety, Depression, Mental Illness, Panic/Anxiety Attacks

The sky was dark outside the Drew household as Ryan settled himself deep into the couch to watch a documentary on Netflix. Ever since moving in with his daughter and her adoptive father, he’d found that he didn’t mind a quiet night watching television alone now that he knew he wasn’t actually alone.

Living with Nancy and Carson—and subsequently, Bess—was definitely something to adjust to, he’d realized pretty quickly. Not only was he not alone, he now had two people in his life who had their own lives and jobs and places to be. Sometimes that made him anxious and a bit lonely; sometimes, like tonight, he was grateful for the out-of-town trips and girls’ nights.

Carson had left early that morning for a weekend trip to Boston, which didn’t surprise either Hudson descendant. He was still trying to build up his practice again, and neither Ryan nor Nancy were children, so they were capable of taking care of themselves.

When Bess announced at breakfast that morning that they were doing a girls’ night at a local hotel with George, Nancy hadn’t seemed too pleased but had smiled and agreed with the plan. He knew they wanted some time with their newly engaged friend, and though a part of him wished she’d stay home and log some one-on-one father-daughter time with him, he knew he had to take the moments where he could get them.

But as he flipped through the choices onscreen, he was startled by the text that reached his phone. Fumbling to find the device in his pocket, his brow furrowed as a message from Bess lit up in front of him.

“Sorry to bother you. Has Nancy left yet?”

He quickly typed out a reply to his new housemate and waited for her next response. “Uh, no? I thought she was with you.”

Bess’ response took longer than he’d like to come through, but finally, his phone rang again. “Oops, my bad! I forgot that she had to stop for a few things. She probably just got caught up at the store. No need to worry!”

He narrowed his eyes at the words and sat up again. To any other person, this might have sounded like a perfectly reasonable explanation. But they were talking about Nancy Drew, and anything regarding his daughter had extra layers that needed exploring.

He knew she hadn’t seemed too excited about the overnight, but she wasn’t the type of person to blow off her friends like this.

Just as he opened the text message thread he shared with her, a loud thud sounded above him that had him rising from the couch. He knew that Nancy’s room shared a floor/ceiling with the living room and hesitated only briefly.

With everything that she and her friends got into on a daily basis, part of him considered the idea that there was some sort of ghost or being haunting her bedroom. It wouldn’t be entirely out of the question as she’d mentioned seeing Lucy in there more than once, but then he thought back to Bess’ text and found himself moving quickly.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he ascended the stairs, and when he got to the top, he was met with an eerie silence. “Nancy? You here?”

There was no response besides a slight creaking sound that came from within her room. Either Nancy was home, and he’d somehow missed it, or her room was haunted, and he would probably need to call her home anyway.

He wasn’t sure which option he preferred at this point.

“Nance?” Ryan turned the doorknob gently in his hand and was met with a dimly lit room that looked much more disturbed than when he’d seen it that morning.

The first thing he noticed was that her floor was covered in the newspaper clippings and journal entries that had once littered her bulletin board. Then he saw that one of her windows was wide open and paused.

What if someone had broken in? He didn’t have anything to defend himself, and he’d left his phone downstairs, so he couldn’t even call for help.

He was just about to back out of the room and find something to use as a possible weapon when he caught sight of a familiar purse on the floor next to the window and sighed.

No one had broken in, Ryan realized, except for the person whose room he was now standing in.

Walking carefully to the bag, he crouched down to retrieve it and any clue he could find as to why Nancy might have snuck into her own house when he caught sight of her closet door slightly ajar. Sighing heavily, he walked over to it and felt his chest tighten at the scene in front of him.

Nancy sat on the floor, her arms resting on the knees she’d drawn tightly to her chest, with her head hiding in the protective bubble she’d created. Her hands were shaking, and he could see her foot tapping softly in a fast rhythm that kept no beat.

Ryan didn’t speak right away but quietly lowered himself so that he could sit next to her. He shuffled backward so that his back was against the small closet wall and made sure he was close enough where she could feel his presence and not feel crowded by him.

“Hey.” He kept his voice low and calm. “If I had known you wanted to stay here tonight, I could have come up with some excuse for you.”

She didn’t reply or even react, to his light teasing, letting him know that something was seriously wrong with his little girl. It made his chest hurt again.

All he wanted was for her to be happy; he hated seeing her as anything but herself.

“I don’t know what happened today or if there’s even a logical reason for these feelings, but either way, Nancy, I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere until it passes, okay?”

He knew a panic attack when he saw one. He’d had a few of them throughout his life, and he knew that Lucy had too, but he never wanted his child to experience anything like it. Knowing that he and Lucy had passed on this terrible disease to their baby made him feel awful, but at least he knew how to help.

“It’s too much.”

Looking down at her, Ryan’s brow lifted in curiosity. “What’s too much?”

“I did it again.”

“You did what?” His voice was still quiet and calm, but inside he longed to hold her close and protect her from the world.

She moved then, lifting her head and digging her hands painfully into her hair. “I cursed the town. Again.”

“I thought you guys had fixed the security boxes and had gotten a lot of the spirits that had been let out?” She’d told him and Carson about her desperate attempt to save George and the resulting hauntings that came from it.

She shook her head frantically, and he now saw how pale her face had become. “When…when we reversed the Wraith attachment…I didn’t know it was her.”

“It’s okay….”

She cut him off. “No, it’s not okay. I had to…I had to provide blood to get the machine going again. But I gave too much, and now…now she’s back, and she’s cursed Horseshoe Bay because of me.”

Ryan was extremely lost. “Who is back?”

He chose not to comment on her ‘I gave too much blood’ story for the moment.

“Temperance Hudson. Our ancestor.” She said and only then looked up at him.

Tears swam in her red-rimmed blue eyes, and her bottom lip quivered. Her gaze was desperate, and she looked much younger than the strong twenty-year-old he was privileged enough to see every day.

“Can you just…leave me alone, please?” Her voice shook and was thick with tears.

He shook his head as soon as the words were out. “I can’t do that, Nancy.”

“Please.” She begged him, closing her eyes and letting a waterfall of tears run down her cheeks.

He sighed. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know that would happen, and you needed to use the device to save your life. Whatever comes next, we can deal with it, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

She let out a sob now, and it tore at his heart. “Listen, this might sound weird, but can you do me a favor?” She didn’t respond, so he took that as his cue to continue. “Name five things you know.”

She looked up at him again, this time with confusion on her face, but did as she was told. “Um…uh, I brought our murderous ancestor back from the dead.” He didn’t like that she started with that but let it slide for now. “Carson is out of town. I am supposed to be doing girls’ night with George and Bess right now. You’re sitting next to me. We’re in a closet?”

She said the last part as if she’d just now realized where they were, but he moved forward. “Now, four things you can feel.”

She blinked. “My clothes hanging above my head. My hair in my hands. My shoes are tied too tight.” Then she paused.

“Come on, one more.” He coached her.

She bit her lip and grabbed his hand in her own. “You.”

He felt her squeeze his hand tightly as if she was afraid he wasn’t real and squeezed back. The fact that she’d initiated the touch helped ease the tension in his chest.

“Three things you see.”

“Again, you.” She sent him a weak smile. “My bed. The mess I made on my floor.”

“Okay, two things you can hear.”

She paused again before speaking. “Your voice. My breathing.”

He nodded. “One thing you can either smell or taste.”

“Burnt popcorn?”

“Oh shit.” He’d forgotten about the snack he’d started preparing and hoped the smoke detector didn’t go off.

She chuckled at his comment and slumped against him, seemingly exhausted. “What was that?”

He sighed and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side. “That was something I learned from my therapist a long time ago. How do you feel now?”

Nancy groaned. “Tired. Worried. Embarrassed.”

“Hey,” He shook his head. “you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

“So, I didn’t know you had anxiety.”

It was her turn to sigh, and she moved out of his touch. Standing, she offered him a hand, and they moved to sit on her bed. Then she moved, so she was leaning against her headboard and looked past him.

“I didn’t, or I thought I didn’t until Ted went missing.”

He looked at her in confusion. “George’s sister?”

The redhead nodded. “Yeah. I, uh, I noticed during that case that there were a lot of similarities to the Rose Turnbull case from when I was younger.”

“Your first case, right?” He remembered reading it in the paper.

And if he had gone to the Horseshoe Bay Gazette and asked for a copy of the original article to keep in his wallet, well…he didn’t tell anyone about it.

“I went back to the warehouse where Nathan Gomber…where I found her that day.” She told him. “Carson came with me, and we pieced together that something happened to me down there, too.”

“Did he hurt you? Gomber. If he put his hands on you….” The surge of panic and fear that rose in his body was stilled by her hand capturing his again.

“No. He didn’t…no.” She thought for a moment. “I heard him speaking to this…thing…in the dark. He called it Si-Simon.”

She was getting worked up again, so he moved closer. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about this if it’s….”

Nancy shook her head. “Simon, uh, he made…he made us forget. That’s what he does to children. He causes them to forget what happened. My parents, they took me to a therapist after that. Carson told me I was so calm when they got there…too calm.”

“What did this Simon make you forget?” He was afraid to know, but he knew she needed to get it out.

Tears filled her eyes again. “I was so scared, Dad.”

His breath caught in his throat at the term. She’d never used it before, and though he hoped she would one day, he hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught of feelings that came with it.

“I thought I was going to die.” She continued. “I never would have seen Carson and Kate again. I would never have met my friends…or you. I would never have known my other father, and it just…I can’t imagine it now.”

“But you didn’t die.” He said, emotion filling the ferocity in his voice. “You beat this Simon. Twice, it sounds like.”

“Yeah, I did.” She swallowed thickly. “When I burned the vigil that Gomber and his girlfriend had built for him, it broke his power and brought all these…these feelings back. Fear, anxiety, despair. I haven’t been able to get away from them since.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” He told her sincerely. “I know that doesn’t help you at all, but I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you through it all. I am now.”

She sniffed back the tears and nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You know I love hearing that, but don’t feel like you have to say it. Say it when you’re ready.” He told her.

“I am ready.” She cleared her throat. “It’s nice to have two parents again, and…you are my dad.”

“Yes, I am. And as long as I’m around, I will do everything I can to keep you safe from things like Gomber and Simon. Even Temperance Hudson.” He squeezed her hand again.

A few tears rolled down her cheeks again. “Please. I know you can’t realistically make this promise, but…please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone again.”

“Nancy…” He moved so that his knees touched hers and put his hands on her face, forcing her to look directly at him. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll never be alone. Ever.”

Then he pulled her to his chest again and held her as she gripped his shirt. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one worried about being alone in this life.

They sat there until she calmed down before pulling away again.

“Hey, you know if you are too wiped out to do girls’ night, I can text Bess and come up with an excuse.” He told her, causing her to smile.

“Thanks, but I think I’m okay now.” She squeezed his hand again. “Maybe tomorrow we could do dinner and watch a movie?”

Now it was his turn to smile. “Definitely.”

He helped her up and waited as she gathered her things. Then he watched from the front door as she backed out of the driveway, waving to him before she drove off.

Moving back to the couch, he picked up his phone and scrolled through the numbers he’d saved to his contacts. They’d changed a bit since he found out Nancy was his daughter—having then added the entire group just in case—but he didn’t mind it. Finding the name he was looking for, he pressed it and settled back against the cushions as he waited for the person to answer.

“Hannah Gruen? Yeah, Ryan Hudson.” He paused. “Uh-huh. I need a favor. I need you to tell me everything you or Nancy and her friends have learned about my ancestor Temperance Hudson.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d learn, but at least he’d be prepared for whatever came next.

#cw nancy drew #nancy drew fanfiction #nancy drew #ryan hudson #nancy drew & ryan hudson

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alyasgf · 3 years

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Private Tutor Adrinette April- Day 10 Tutor

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Summary-

Marinette hates Adrien. But who else is lining up to tutor her in Algebra 2 weeks before the exam?

Word Count- 1223

AO3

Begin

Marinette hates Adrien. But who else is lining up to tutor her in Algebra 2 weeks before the exam?

It all started with their second to last mock test. Marinette had been out fighting an akuma late the night before and hadn’t had a chance to study. Needless to say she got a 60%. Her teacher told her to either find a tutor or have her parents called.

Adrien was top of the class. That in itself peeved Marinette off. Especially considering had she had less responsibilities she surely could’ve gotten better grades.

She hadn’t liked Adrien since the beginning of the school year and she certainly wouldn’t start now.

Unfortunately, when Adrien offered to tutor her she had already been turned down by about half the class due to busy schedules.

“Y’know Marinette my dad wouldn’t mind you coming over after school weekdays for studying.” Adrien offered with a small smile.

Marinette wasn’t sure of what his angle was. Gain her trust and then spill all her secrets to Chloe? Find out her secret nutmeg allergy and use it against her? Either way she didn’t have a choice.

So when the final bell rang and everyone headed to the school gate, Marinette had no choice but to wait for Adrien.

“He’s not that bad Marinette.” Alya tried for about the 20th time. “Nino hangs out with him constantly. If he was trying to pull something he’d know.”

“Do you not remember how the first day of school went? He put a piece of gum on my chair. I caught him firsthand.” She huffed, sitting on a bench and looking around for the blonde.

“Maybe there’s some sort of explanation. That doesn’t sound like him.” Alya attempted to reason, knowing how stubborn her friend was. “All I’m saying is give him a chance. A fresh start. He might surprise you.”

“I doubt it, but its cute that you’re so positive.” She teased, tapping her friend lightly on the nose.

Just then she saw a sleek black car pull up and Adrien head towards it. He turned and waved her over.

“There’s my cue. I’ll text you if he decides to torture my secrets out of me.” She stood up and walked towards the car.

Adrien held the door open for her and she slid in without even a glance towards him.

“I’m so glad we can finally spend some time together.” Adrien said in a hopeful tone.

He almost seemed genuine. Still Marinette stuck to her resolve.

“This is for studying. It’s not exactly hanging out with a friend” She almost felt bad for that comment as she saw his face fall.

They were silent for the rest of the ride.

————————————

Most of the studying was done very businesslike.

Marinette would solve a problem, Adrien would tell her she did it wrong, and she would correct it. She would leave at 4:30 sharp without a goodbye and that would be that.

It went on like that for almost a week. By Thursday Adrien seemed to have broke.

“Marinette, why do you hate me? Everyone else gets to have such a loyal, brave, and amazing friend, and all I get is a cold shoulder.” He said once they sat down at his desk.

“Adrien, are you kidding me?” She replied astounded by his audacity. “You put gum on my chair on the first day of school and all you do is defend Chloe! How can I be friends with you? You’re just like her.”

“Actually Marinette, Chloe placed that gum on your seat. I was trying to take it off when you caught me. I know Chloe’s not perfect, not by a long shot. By she was my first friend so I wasn’t going to throw her under the bus. All I’ve wanted since the first day of school was to be your friend.” He finished, sighing and looking down at the floor.

“Oh.” Marinette too looked down bashfully. “I had no idea.”

“I’ve tried to tell you before, but you always managed to avoid me.” Adrien said quietly.

“God I’ve been such a jerk huh?” Marinette began to think back on how she had treated the boy for the last year.

“Something like that.” This time Adrien laughed a little.

That was a good start.

“Can I just say I’m sorry?” She now looked up at him, hoping to catch his eyes. “I’d love to be your friend if you gave me the chance.”

Adrien met her eyes. “I’d love that.”

After that their sessions became full of laughter and jokes. Everyone at school was surprised at Marinette’s sudden change of heart, but fully supported it.

Marinette even began to look forward to tutoring every weekday. She told herself it was because Adrien was such a good tutor. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes shone like emeralds in the light or how her skin heated up with every slight contact they made.

She also noticed the slips of his personality that always surprised her. She never would’ve expected him to enjoy puns so much, yet he couldn’t control himself every time the opportunity struck, meaning she couldn’t go a day without hearing one. Between him and Chat Noir, she couldn’t decide who was worse.

“Well I guess we only have 10 minutes left of our final tutoring session.” Adrien sighed leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head.

Marinette’s eyes drifted to the sliver of skin that was exposed and just as quickly looked away blushing.

“Thanks to you I think I might actually stand a chance at passing tomorrow. I appreciate you offering to help me, no matter how rude I was toward you.” She replied sheepishly.

“Hey it’s no big deal. If it weren’t for this, we probably still wouldn’t have been friends. I’m gonna miss seeing you every.” He confessed.

“Well maybe we could hang out more? You can come over for pastries from the bakery any day.” She offered hoping he’d accept.

“Father wouldn’t like me eating sweets.” He began and Marinette’s face fell. “But what he doesn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.” Adrien finished with a smirk.

Marinette beamed.

——————————————

The next day, Marinette finished her exam with time to spare.

After about a week of waiting they got their scores back. Marinette got full marks.

She was bouncing in her seat with excitement. She only had one person in mind when she thought of who she should celebrate with. Unfortunately he didn’t have Algebra the same block as her so she’d have to wait until after school.

When she saw the tuft of blonde hair walking towards her, she sprinted and hugged him.

“I got a hundred!” She squealed into his ear.

He responded by spinning her in the air.

“Congratulations Marinette! I knew you could do it.” He laughed into her shoulder happily.

Once he put her down the smiles on both their faces were so wide they didn’t think they could grow anymore.

“Do you want to go get some pastries to celebrate?” Adrien asked, almost nervously.

“Are you asking me on a date Agreste?” She joked.

“Yes?” Adrien said as though it were a question. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. He smile had dwindled slightly.

“Oh then um I’d love to?” Now it was Marinette’s turn to blush.

Adrien’s nervous smile disappeared and was replaced by another wide grin.

“Really?” He looked at her so fondly all her anxious thoughts immediately disappeared.

“Really.”

@adrinetteapril

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girlboss-molina · 3 years

Text

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 3: A Demonstrative Lesson in Simping

AO3 Link

Words: 12.8k

-----

Alex POV

...

It had been a week, and Alex hadn’t seen Willie since that fateful night when he’d earned the nickname “your royal pancakeness.” It was probably better that way, to be honest. The way Willie moved, everything about him, the energy that surrounded him, it made Alex feel weird and fluttery. If his anxious reading through the random romance novels on the bookshelf in his room, plus his constant googling of “do I have a crush” quizzes (on incognito tabs, obviously; treason wasn’t very high on his bucket list) said anything about his current situation, though, he was royally screwed.

No pun intended.

It didn’t help, either, that every time he thought about the baker’s smile, his long hair, the way his dark eyes crinkled at the edges when he laughed, a shiver ran down Alex’s spine. It was so confusing. How the hell could he have a crush on someone he barely knew?

He dragged a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. Laying on the floor and questioning his existence had become a daily occurrence, oftentimes - like today - with Luke by his side.

“Emotions are the bane of my existence,” he said plaintively, not bothering to look away from the high ceilings, letting the flecks of dust in the air blend in with the tiny spots in his vision after not blinking for so long. “Like,” he continued, “how is it logical that a couple little zaps to the brain can make your stomach drop, or make your palms sweat, or even a week after something happened, still make you feel cold and warm at the same time?”

He wasn’t sure if the question was meant to be rhetorical, but he was still grateful for Luke’s reply, however unhelpful it may turn out to be.

“Bro, I don’t know,” he agreed. “Like, one minute you’re fine, and the next you’re about to accidentally commit treason.” Alex let out a dry laugh.

“Tell me about it.” A few moments passed, and he blinked, finally letting new moisture clear his vision. “Also, called it.”

“Wh-” Luke started, clearing his throat. “What do you mean, ‘called it?’”

“You like Julie?” Alex assumed, ignoring the swelling bubble of treasonous worry in his stomach. “I might’ve overthought every possible aspect of this, and your comment about accidental treason confirmed what I already thought.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke drag a hand down his face, heard him groan.

“I barely know her,” he started, “but I’m already so… I don’t even know the word. Intrigued? Infatuated? In-something.” Alex nodded, letting his head smack back down on the carpet. “I’m sorry,” he added.

“Why?”

“I can only imagine how much this must be on your anxiety, and this doesn’t help.”

“It doesn’t, but it’s not the first bit of accidental treason.” His eyes finally flicked away from their spot on the ceiling as Luke bolted upright.

“No way,” he said. “Who?” Alex’s cheeks flushed. Before he could respond, though, Luke spoke again. “Wait, let me get this straight. Well, gay. You’ve liked a guy for an entire week, and you didn’t tell me? This is a betrayal of our friendship!” Alex knew he was being dramatic.

“You say that as if you didn’t do the exact same thing,” he countered. Luke considered that for a moment.

“Whatever. Okay, details.”

“His name’s Willie,” he said. “He’s a baker down at the kitchens behind the grand hall.” Alex saw a huge grin spread on Luke’s face, but couldn’t bring himself to share his friend’s ever-blooming optimism. He sighed. “Do you think there’s a way to go through with the marriage but like, platonically? Like, just tell the people ‘yeah we’re getting married, just not romantically.’ I just think that would work out better for everybody.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Luke said. “Not sure how it would work out, but I agree.”

“On the plus side, being criminals automatically makes us at least 50% cooler.”

“Dude, aren’t you the one with anxiety?”

“I have my moments.”

A familiar knock rang on the door. How, in one week, it had become so familiar, they would never know. But as Alex told Reggie to come in, his infectious smile permeated through the room like the smell of vanilla on a cold day.

“Did I hear something about treason?” he asked excitedly. “Because I am always down. Tell your friends; you need a treason buddy, I’m your guy. But of course, for legal reasons, that’s a joke.” Alex snorted.

Reggie had managed to weasel his way into both his and Luke’s hearts in a matter of days. He was so sweet, so loving, and such a dork, how could he not? Luke’s interactions with Reggie reminded Alex of two best friends who supported each other unconditionally. Alex’s own interactions with the princess’s brother? They were more like bantering siblings who loved each other so much, but were not above toilet-papering the other’s room.

“Well,” Luke began, “the arranged marriage was already a major fuck-up on the council’s decision. We could add in some treason to the mix. Just for funsies.”

“You just want to hang out with Julie, don’t you?” Alex prodded. Luke flushed, and Reggie grinned.

“Called it.”

“Oh come on, you too?”

“Dude,” Reggie said. “I love you, but you’re not exactly subtle.” Luke pouted, and Alex cracked up. “You, on the other hand,” Reggie added, “I’m not sure who your treasonous crush is.”

“A baker named Willie,” Luke interjected before Alex could reply. “And I still haven’t heard the story of how you met, I might add.” Alex groaned.

“I assume there’s no way I’m getting out of this?”

“Not a chance,” Luke and Reggie replied in unison.

This was going to be a disaster.

…

After explaining the details of how he met Willie, and enduring multiple agonizing minutes of Reggie and Luke gushing about an “adorable, treasonous meet-cute,” Alex finally prodded Luke for details about his feelings for Julie.

“Uh, well, it’s not really feelings, plus, I doubt Reggie wants to hear about hypothetical feelings someone might have for his sister.”

“Wrong,” Reggie said. “I want to know everything.” Alex laughed.

“See, I would explain, but the self-defense class starts in a minute-”

“Thirty,” Reggie corrected.

“Like I said, it starts in a minute, so I’d better run.” Without another word, he bolted out the door.

“You can’t keep running from your feelings forever,” Alex called to Luke.

“No, but I can run from you two goons!” Alex and Reggie couldn’t contain their laughter by that point, so they let that simp of a man get out of it for a little while.

…

After hanging out with Reggie in the recording studio, Alex was walking down the corridor behind the great hall, for old time’s (a week ago) sake, pacing back and forth. He didn’t actually know what he would do if someone asked why the prince was pacing the hallway near the kitchens for no apparent reason, but what happened was simultaneously both better and worse, because who would he run into (thankfully not literally this time) but a familiar brown-eyed man with a crooked smile.

“Hey there, your royal pancakeness!” He called, and oh, how Alex wished Willie didn’t have such an endearing smile.

“Hey, Willie!” He ignored the butterflies rising in his stomach. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good! Just got on break. You okay?” He asked, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Alex assured him. “Just walking.”

“Cool.”

Alex tried not to stare, but Willie made it impossible. The way he flipped his long hair, the way his dark eyes sparkled with flecks of gold in the light, how his smile lit up every time he spoke. The adorable smudge of flour on his nose didn’t help, either.

“You sure?” Willie asked, the faint flicker of concern right back to the furrow in his eyebrows. “You look a little dazed.”

Yeah, that’s because you’re gorgeous and I already have a crush on you despite only meeting you once.

“Just a little tired, I guess.” The lie was a classic one, and Willie could surely see through the bullshit, but if he did, he didn’t prod.

“Well, make sure you get some sleep tonight. In the meantime, I’m off to skate a little. You wanna come?”

Skating? There was a 100% chance that Alex would fall flat on his ass and humiliate himself. He’d never once been on a skateboard, at least, not since he’d sprained his wrist when he was seven, and his mother had banned all skateboards from the palace. And yet, the adorable look in Willie’s eyes still had Alex saying, “I’d love too.” He mentally kicked himself, but that annoyance was quickly replaced with another swarm of butterflies when Willie’s smile lit up even brighter than before.

“Sick! Follow me.”

…

The skate park wasn’t technically a skate park by any means. It was an actual park, hidden away in the vast garden grounds of Dahlia, and it really said something about the size of the palace grounds that Alex didn’t even know it was there.

Concrete sidewalks lined the perimeter, with swirling roundabouts at the corners, plus unoccupied metal benches and sliding railings that Willie didn’t hesitate to jump over. He even did a move where he jumped and the skateboard did a flip, before landing right back on it, steady as ever. But when Alex watched him let out a whoop and skate quickly around the roundabout as it sloped, not losing his balance once, he was sure Willie was just showing off.

Alex did his best to cool his blushing face as Willie made his way back.

“Want to try?” He asked.

“Oh, no,” he deflected. “I’ve never actually skateboarded before, and I’m pretty sure I’d just look stupid.”

“You’ve never skated before?”

“Not once.” He knew it was technically a lie, because he’d skated once when he was seven but that didn’t really count, but it still wasn’t true and what if Willie found out about the lie and hated him for being dishonest and what if he seemed like a bitch for lying about something so miniscule and-

“Well, there’s an easy way to fix that,” Willie said with a grin, making all of Alex’s previous anxieties melt away. They were, of course, quickly replaced with new ones because cute boy, but still.

Before Alex knew it, Willie was extending his hand and stepping off the skateboard, that beautiful, crooked smile still plastered on his gorgeous face. And then, despite the voice in the back of his head, screaming to play it safe, he listened to the whisper, barely audible, telling him to go for it. So, before he could change his mind, he took Willie’s hand. It was rough and calloused, with a few scars peppered on his fingers, but it was perfect. Slowly, tentatively, he stepped onto the skateboard, and…

Immediately fell flat on his ass. Or, he would have, had Willie not been quicker and run behind him, catching him by the shoulders with a laugh. Alex’s cheeks did their best to catch fire, and he immediately apologized.

“No, bro, you’re good! Just glad I caught you,” Willie said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex replied, only just noticing how long Willie’s eyelashes were. He wasn't sure if he imagined it when Willie’s cheeks looked darker the longer he stared. Alex cleared his throat.

“Okay, let’s try this again.” Willie outstretched his hand again, and this time, Alex didn’t hesitate before taking it. He took a deep breath, grounding himself before stepping onto the skateboard, squeezing the other man’s hand and using him for support.

“I did it!” he exclaimed, very excitedly, considering all he’d done was step onto an immobile skateboard. But Willie shared his excitement.

“Hell yeah, dude! Want me to push you so you move?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Understandable, have a nice day.” Alex and Willie stared at each other, deadpan, before bursting out laughing. But, because the universe hated him, Alex fell forwards, right on top of Willie, chests pressed together and noses barely apart.

He tried to move, but he was too caught up in how fucking close they were. Willie had caught himself, leaning backwards but standing, and somehow his arms had gotten wrapped around Alex’s waist, holding him tight. It was clearly just to make sure neither of them fell, but Alex couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut.

Neither of them moved. Alex took a steadying breath, not looking away from Willie’s beautiful eyes. He cursed his stupid heart for fluttering, for suggesting treason because of a guy he’d just met, a guy with eyes so beautiful it should’ve been illegal, a guy with a perfect sense of humor, a guy who was so energetic and kind but also understanding, a guy who was now standing upright and steady, as was Alex, but who was still holding him close, arms wrapped around his waist. A guy who was surely just making sure he was still steady, but who looked at him with such intensity that it made him weak in the knees.

Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped back.

“Sorry, I kinda… Fell.” Willie gave that perfect laugh, and oh, if Alex wasn’t already smitten, he was now.

“Yeah, I caught that. No pun intended.” Alex let out an extremely undignified snort.

“That,” he said through giggles, “was so bad.” When he looked up, Willie’s cheeks were red but he laughed too.

Maybe treasonous feelings weren’t so bad.

…

As he made his way up to his quarters, Alex flopped on his bed, a giddy grin still over his face. His cheeks hurt from smiling, but he just couldn’t stop. Willie was so… he didn’t even have the words. His laugh was like sunshine in the Summer, warm and bright and the source of all life in the world. His eyes were dark but somehow bright as well, and in the light they looked like bowls of honey as they twinkled. Everything about him was so ethereal, and Alex was completely gone on him. Which was, of course, extremely illegal, but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to care.

As Luke walked in, the aroma of shampoo floating with him and giving away the fact that he’d just showered, he heard a laugh.

“How was your date?” Alex didn’t bother denying it.

“He tried to teach me how to skateboard,” he said, eyes dreamy as he remembered the fond look in Willie’s eyes as he’d fallen. “I almost fell but he-”

“No way. Did he catch you?”

“Twice.” Alex laughed when Luke squealed.

“Well, dude, you know it’s your turn to ask him out, right?”

What?

Alex bolted upright. “What do you mean?”

“I know you weren’t the one to ask him out today. That means it’s your turn to find him and ask him out for another little outing.”

“Fuck.” How the hell was he supposed to do that? He couldn’t just keep wandering the halls behind the kitchens, people would get suspicious. But… maybe he could find Willie again at the park. He’d seemed to know it well.

But what if that made him look creepy? That was Willie’s area that he’d brought Alex to, Alex was merely a guest in Willie’s beautiful domain, even if it was part of the palace. He still felt like he would be intruding.

“I’ll let you deal with that,” Luke said with a laugh.

“Yeah. In the meantime, though, how was self-defense?” Luke had a dopey grin as soon as he thought.

“Amazing.”

Alex listened to his best friend ramble on and on about how incredible it was, or rather, she was. Apparently, Julie had been instructed to go early, so Luke wasn’t able to avoid her. But it didn’t matter, because Alex got to hear his lovestruck best friend rant about how badass she was and how incredible their fights were when they sparred.

A knock rang on the door. Alex cleared his throat, standing up. Luke straightened his back. When he shot Alex a look, Alex nodded.

“Come in.” As the handle turned, a pit in Alex’s stomach formed as King Ray Molina stepped through. He scrambled into a bow, as did Luke.

“Your majesty, is everything alright?”

“It’s okay, mijos, there’s no need to bow.” Alex stood straight again. “You are needed in the royal office. Well, technically only Alex, but Luke should come too. And put on something respectable but comfortable. It might be a long night.” With that, Ray left, leaving the two of them there.

A sinking pit in Alex’s stomach told him that something was very, very wrong.

-----

Luke POV

...

Laying on the floor with Alex was a daily occurrence. It truly was the best spot to have a crisis.

“Emotions are the bane of my existence,” Alex declared. Luke had to agree. “Like,” he continued, “how is it logical that a couple little zaps to the brain can make your stomach drop, or make your palms sweat, or even a week after something happened, still make you feel cold and warm at the same time?”

“Bro, I don’t know,” he agreed. “Like, one minute you’re fine, and the next you’re about to accidentally commit treason.” Alex let out a dry laugh.

“Tell me about it.” A few moments passed, and Luke stared at the ceiling. There were small knots in the gently stained wood planks, with no particular rhyme or reason. “Also, called it.”

“Wh-” Luke started, clearing his throat. “What do you mean, ‘called it?’”

“You like Julie?” Alex assumed. Luke fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t be treasonous. “I might’ve overthought every possible aspect of this, and your comment about accidental treason confirmed what I already thought.” Luke dragged a hand down his face and groaned. How obvious was he?

“I barely know her,” he started, “but I’m already so… I don’t even know the word. Intrigued? Infatuated? In-something.” In love, maybe.

“I’m sorry,” he added after a moment.

“Why?”

“I can only imagine how much this must be on your anxiety, and this doesn’t help.” Luke mentally kicked himself for adding another worry onto his best friend’s anxiety.

“It doesn’t, but it’s not the first bit of accidental treason.” Luke took a moment to process that before bolting upright.

“No way,” he said. “Who?” He ignored Alex’s blush. “Wait, let me get this straight. Well, gay. You’ve liked a guy for an entire week, and you didn’t tell me? This is a betrayal of our friendship!” How dare he? That was cruel. Luke could’ve been teasing him for seven fucking days and Alex had the gall to hide it?

The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch.

“You say that as if you didn’t do the exact same thing,” Alex countered. Luke considered that for a moment.

“Whatever. Okay, details.”

…

After hearing the adorable details of Alex’s meet-cute with Willie, Luke had officially decided he would be officiating their wedding. He could already see it. Of course, he didn’t have much time to imagine his best friend’s future husband, because soon Alex and Reggie were giving him shit for his “crush” on Julie, and he hightailed it out of there, deciding to go to self-defense early. He could just sit on the bench and wait, be free of anybody who would make his thoughts race-

But of course he couldn’t, because right there was Julie, walking into the arena.

"Hey Luke!" She called with a wave.

"Hey, Julie, what’s up?” He dearly hoped he wasn't blushing.

“Not much,” she replied. “Just came early because Lady Athena wanted me to show the trainees my upside-down move.” She tightened her ponytail. “Why are you here? The main session doesn’t start for another thirty minutes.” Luke blushed, his stomach flipping. What if she thought he was annoying?

“Oh,” he said with a shy laugh. “Alex and Reggie were giving me shit for… something,” he explained, hoping she didn’t catch his slip, “and I decided to escape.” Julie nodded.

“That’s valid.”

“Julie?” called Lady Athena. “You ready?”

“That's my cue,” she said with a smirk, hopping away and over to stand next to the coach. Luke couldn’t keep his eyes off her. The way she moved was ethereal, like a butterfly given human form.

She began explaining her move to the trainees, who were all looking very confused, which Luke understood. It looked super complicated, and you would need some serious core strength to pull it off. But somehow she did it in slow fucking motion.

He found himself migrating towards Julie’s friends, who thankfully greeted him with a smile.

Whispering introductions between them, he met Flynn (the girl with the braids), Carrie (Flynn’s girlfriend), and Mira (Julie’s lady-in-waiting). And as if Luke didn’t already have a healthy amount of fear and respect for the princess, she happened to surround herself with other badasses.

Flynn had an air of confidence around her. The way she squared her shoulders as she walked made her long, dark braids sway behind her back, and the bold style she always had just added to the effect. Carrie, Flynn’s girlfriend, was proof that some people were born to be royal. Everything Carrie did and wore, no matter how simple - like her current athletic clothes - screamed royalty, even though she wasn’t technically royal. And Mira was kind and confident, but there was an air about her that told Luke, this is a powerful woman. Not that he was surprised; He’d seen her fights against Julie.

But he just couldn’t take his eyes off of Julie. She moved so cleanly, never stumbling no matter how difficult the position must’ve been, and even as she held herself sideways on one arm and spun, she landed with uncanny grace.

“Okay, Julie, why don’t you get some water, and we’ll do the demonstrations with opponents?” Lady Athena’s long ponytail swished as she walked towards her, and Luke blushed when Julie smiled.

“Sounds good.” She spun on her heel, jogging to the group and catching Luke’s eye. He could’ve sworn her cheeks darkened, but then again, that move made for an intense workout.

“Dude, I don’t know how you managed to do that spin in slow motion,” Mira told her. Julie laughed, and Luke had never heard a sound so beautiful.

“Practice and good core strength.” She sat down on the bench, Mira by her side. So he was right; core strength was a necessity.

“Hey, uh, Julie?” asked Luke shyly. She was drinking water, so she hummed a questioning tone. Luke cleared his throat. “Would it be okay if I joined them and tried to learn the move?” he asked, gesturing his head to the group of preparing trainees. Julie put down her water bottle, smirking, and Luke felt his own smile rising, though he was also nervous. He wasn’t sure why.

“Technically, you’re not a trainee.” Oh. That was why. Luke opened his mouth to apologize, before Julie cut him off. “But, you could be one of the demonstrative opponents if you want to,” she offered. “I’m supposed to show how the move works against different fighting styles, and I think a Tamborian fighting style would add some variety.” Luke grinned and nodded, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Sounds good, boss.” That time he did see Julie blush, and couldn’t help but feel proud of himself.

As Julie made her way over to the front of the mats, with Carrie by her side, he sat on the bench next to Mira, enchanted. Before they started their fight, though, Mira elbowed him in the ribs. When he glanced over, she didn’t say anything, but gave him a knowing smirk that made him flush. Was he really that obvious?

“What?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” she said. Luke stammered, trying to find an excuse. Mira laughed.

“Don’t worry, dude. I’m not sure if they would exile me for saying this, but you guys would be cute together. Might be illegal, but then again, I’m always down for some treason.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but he knew he was joking. Evidently, Mira did as well, because she snorted and went back to watching Julie and Carrie.

Luke eagerly did the same, watching as Julie made the first move. Carrie hopped out of the way, striking and giving Julie and opportunity to lean forwards. The princess hopped and landed on her right hand, spinning and tripping Carrie. Luke didn’t pay attention to what she said, but was entranced by how she moved. He vaguely remembered something about a dancer.

“That’s my cue,” Mira told him as Julie finished the round against Carrie. “See you later, lover boy.” Before Luke could come up with a comeback for Julie’s kind but blunt friend, she winked and walked away.

As Julie fought Mira, she mentioned something about a ninja, as well as the way the word “lithe” sounded on her tongue. He watched as she danced around the other girl, twisting and tripping her before winning the fight.

Flynn strutted over to Julie, a confident smirk on her face. She was catlike when she fought, something both Luke and Julie noticed, and he was very proud of himself for thinking of it as she pointed it out.

“However,” Julie said as she made the final spin, pinning Flynn and grabbing her collar, “it turns out, cats don’t always land on their feet.”

Whoa.

Not only was she a complete and utter badass, but she was good at bantering with her friends. Luke wasn’t sure why he loved that so much, but a grin broke out on his face, blushing as he caught Julie’s gaze.

"Next,” Julie said, snapping Luke back to the present, “I'm going to fight with Luke. He's from Tambor, so this will be new." She nodded, and he obeyed, practically floating over to her.

As Julie stepped into fighting position, Luke winked, quite pleased with himself for flustering her, then struck. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to get the upper hand. Julie took advantage of his opportunistic nature, when he left himself vulnerable as he attacked, she struck back with twice the confidence.

Soon, though, he tripped. As he lost his balance, Julie spun upside down and tripped him. Luke’s back hit the ground and he let out a gentle “oof,” but couldn’t recover before Julie was on top of him. Luke was extremely aware of the way her leg pinned his hips down to the mat, the way her shoulders moved as she breathed evenly but quickly, the way her hand curled into a fist as she grabbed his collar and pulled her other arm backwards to finish. He tried to move his arms, but the way she’d positioned her torso made it impossible for him to defend his head from her possible blow. He was completely at the mercy of this girl, trusting her not to strike with finality, but not trusting his own unruly heart to steady as he found himself lost in her eyes.

But then, because the universe hated him, Julie winked. His breath caught in his throat and he flushed bright red.

For a moment, the world seemed to still. Luke was acutely aware of the shine of her dark skin, the single loose curl by her ear, the confident smirk on her face. But just as quickly as it had happened, it was over. Julie got up, extending her arm, which Luke took. Everywhere her hand touched left tingles on his forearm.

“Nice job!” she told him. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please, I just got my ass kicked and you didn’t even break a sweat.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew you were awesome, but I didn’t know you were a human wrecking ball.” Of course, when Julie blushed, he felt a surge of confidence and accomplishment.

“I- well, I don’t-”

“He’s right,” Carrie insisted. You were awesome.” Luke grinned and nodded, reaching over to high-five her.

“Okay, trainees,” called Lady Athena. “Pair up and spar. If you want, spot the other and try the move. I’ll be hovering to make sure nobody gets hurt.” She clapped her hands with finality, and the trainees did as they were told. “The rest of you,” she added, directed at Luke and the Badasses, “practice while you can. Oh, Julie, I want you to practice with Luke today. See if you can work out some similarities and differences between Dahlian and Tamborian fighting styles.”

Oh.

Fuck.

How the hell was Luke going to survive sparring with Julie multiple times, purely for practice and not staged? He wouldn’t be able to go one minute without completely losing it every time she looked at him.

Luke noticed Carrie, Mira, and Flynn all giving him a look that made him fidget. It turned out he was the opposite of subtle. And as Reggie walked towards them, a knowing smirk on his face as well, Luke knew he was dead. He quickly tried to compose himself.

“Alright, boss,” he said after a moment. “Ready to kick my ass?” Julie laughed, and Luke could’ve listened to that sound for the rest of his life.

“Let’s do it.”

Luke struck first, a playful grin on his face. Julie quickly deflected, twisting his arm and twirling behind him, causing Luke’s heart to flutter. It didn’t last long, though, because then she was shoving the backs of his knees and pinning him as he fell down, kneeling hunched over with her holding his wrists behind his back.

“That’s one for me!” She laughed as he groaned. Way to humiliate yourself, Patterson.

“Damn, and to think I ever thought I was good at hand-to-hand.” Luke took her arm, letting her help him up. An idea formed in his head, a cruel one, but it would work. He had to quickly hide the grin on his face. “Wait, I want to try that spinny move thing.” As Julie stepped back. Luke smirked to himself, hopping forward and purposely falling during the spin. It wasn’t like he needed to try to fall, though; that move was impossible.

“Gah, my wrist!” He feigned injury, but his heart still fluttered as Julie rushed over to him. She cared.

But, he couldn’t play nice. He grinned and quickly took her arm, pulling her down to the ground and flipping on top of her. Luke pinned her shoulders, shooting her a cocky grin, but ignoring the look on her face. It was so soft and surprised, but playful and… he daresay impressed.

“And that’s one for me.”

“That wouldn’t work in a real fight, you know,” she informed Luke as she rolled out from under him. She wasn’t humiliated, as far as he could tell, which was probably a good thing. Humiliating the heiress to the Dahlian throne wasn’t a great idea. But her cheeks were darkened with a blush, and she was certainly flustered. Luke patted himself on the back.

“Oh, I know,” he said calmly. “It’s just fun to annoy you.” He could’ve sworn she blushed even more, but she looked away too quickly for him to confirm.

“Alright, rematch,” she decided, her voice confident. Luke nodded, and Julie hopped into fighting position. Luke did the same, noting how adorable it was as she bounced on the balls of her feet, before striking. She moved quickly and unpredictably, but when Luke dodged a hit to his shoulder and she hopped forward, he knew what was coming. He leaned backwards and, as her legs swept underneath his ankles, he jumped and avoided the killer move.

As he avoided her spin, he noticed Julie trying to recover as quickly as she could, but she stumbled, and Luke quickly took advantage of that. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around almost like a ballroom dance, and then holding her back against his chest, his arm pinning her shoulders. He felt his own heartbeat against her back, her rapid breathing making her shoulder blades prick his stomach.

“I win,” he whispered, a grin on his face- one that was quickly replaced with a look of shock when Julie reached up and grabbed his wrist, leaning forwards and throwing him to the floor upside down. As his back hit the ground, he let out a soft “oof” and didn’t get the chance to move before Julie was on top of him, flattening her body over his to make sure he couldn’t move and pinning his shoulders with her forearm. He knew he’d lost the fight, but currently he was more interested in the quirked eyebrow on her face, the shine of sweat on her forehead, and how very close they were.

“Actually, I win.”

…

Luke stood in the shower, letting the cool water wash over him. He normally took warm showers, even after working out, but today he needed the familiar feeling of cold shivers down his spine. There was something about Julie that made him so warm, like he’d known her his whole life. Julie was like the feeling of a sip of warm cocoa on a winter day, like sunlight peeking over the mountaintops. She was intriguing, so complicated and layered, like a mystery that he desperately wanted to solve. Luke couldn’t piece together just why she had that effect on him, though he had a few ideas.

Quickly drying himself off, he changed into a lightweight guard uniform. It was more of a casual suit than a uniform; the guardsmen dress codes in Dahlia weren’t nearly as strict as they were in Tambor. They were more focused on abilities rather than looking like guards. So long as you looked respectable, that was enough.

The cool fabric of the white dress shirt felt good against his skin, and the heather grey vest was a light pressure, keeping him secure. The matching jacket was tailored to a slim fit, but, given that he was a guard, there were also sheaths built into the inside, with simple but deadly daggers within them.

If he was being honest, Luke hated carrying weapons. He felt cool, sure, but he still hated it. No matter how well they were hidden - and well hidden they were; not even the outlines were visible from the outside - he always knew they were there. That, even though they should be safe, there was always a possibility. A possibility that he might end up using one of the cruel blades strapped to his chest.

…

When he walked into Alex’s room from his quarters across the hall, his best friend was sprawled out on his bed, a dopey grin spread across his face. Luke immediately knew he’d been with Willie.

“How was your date?”

“He tried to teach me how to skateboard,” he said. Luke grinned to himself. That was the cutest thing ever. “I almost fell but he-” Luke gasped, knowing his best friend’s disaster-gay-levels well enough to know where this was going.

“No way. Did he catch you?”

“Twice.” Luke squealed, bringing his hands to his cheeks. Alex was getting a classic boyfriend meet-cute and pining stage. It was like something out of a romance novel.

“Well, dude, you know it’s your turn to ask him out, right?” Luke laughed, practically feeling Alex’s nervousness, which was confirmed when Alex bolted upright.

“What do you mean?” Luke snorted. Dumbass.

“I know you weren’t the one to ask him out today. That means it’s your turn to find him and ask him out for another little outing.”

“Fuck.” Luke could see the thoughts running a million miles an hour in his friend’s head, and soon he would be spiraling into gay panic and anxiety.

“I’ll let you deal with that,” Luke said with a laugh.

“Yeah. In the meantime, though, how was self-defense?” Luke didn’t bother hiding the huge grin that spread across his face as he remembered his time with Julie.

“Amazing. I got there early since you and Reggie were being assholes-”

“Love you too.”

“-But it turned out she was there early as well. Well, her and her friends. She has this super badass move where she jumps and lands on one fucking hand and spins twice, tripping you backwards and then pinning you, and she was teaching it to the trainees. Holy fuck, Alex, I don’t know how she does it. And she did it in slow motion!” He raked a hand through his hair. “She was going to demonstrate the move in fights with Mira, Flynn, and Carrie, and I asked if I could join the trainees to learn the move, because of course I did, and then she said that I ‘technically wasn’t a trainee,’ but then offered to let me be one of the demonstrative opponents.”

“And I’m guessing that went well?”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “And then, when the trainees were practicing, Lady Athena paired us for the rest of the session, so I got to spar with her.”

“Oooooh!” Luke gave a light punch in mock offense, but he was still glowing.

“Bro, she’s amazing.”

“I can see that.” Luke ignored the shit-eating grin on Alex’s face.

A knock rang on the door, and Luke straightened, looking at Alex as he stood up.

“Come in.” When King Ray walked in, Luke hastily bowed.

“Your majesty, is everything alright?” Alex asked.

“It’s okay, mijos, there’s no need to bow. You are needed in the royal office. Well, technically only Alex, but Luke should come too.” Luke nodded as Ray looked at him. “And put on something respectable but comfortable. It might be a long night.” With that, Ray left, leaving the two of them there.

Something was wrong.

-----

Reggie POV

...

Suit vest long abandoned, sleeves messily rolled up, Reggie fiddled with the stim toy in his pocket, humming to himself as he wandered the long expanse of the Dahlian palace gardens, letting the different scents envelop him. Sometimes this would’ve pushed him into sensory overload, with all of the overlapping smells from the flowers, the sound of chirping birds, bright sunlight, breeze and stim toy, but today it just felt right. He hummed a familiar melody to himself, trying to place it as he wandered, spinning around and occasionally dancing with his steps.

His lips moved to words before he knew it, and he was finally able to place the song: Wake Up. Julie had written it with Rose before she passed away. A sad smile quirked the corners of her mouth. It had been a few years since it happened, but a pang of grief still struck Reggie’s heart. He’d lived at the palace since he was nine, and Rose had become like a mother to him. For seven years she’d raised him like one of her own, a kind, gentle woman. She was the one who taught him to play the bass, too.

Reggie missed her. But Julie looked just like her, and she was so strong, his chest still swelled with pride every time he looked at her. And her voice, her music, it was like Rose in every way, and yet so uniquely Julie.

The lyrics to Wake Up were so inspirational that, even when humming to himself in the gardens, they still brought the familiar prickle of tears to his eyes.

Better wake those demons // Just look them in the eye // No reason not to try

Those lines in particular were the most powerful to him. They were the lines that helped him confront his grief after Rose had passed away, and the ones that made his heart grow and ache every time Julie sang them.

Reggie sighed, letting the memory of Rose wash over him, both melancholy and bright. Every step was filled with happiness and longing, but he knew that if it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be the person he was today. He might’ve still lived in the palace with Julie, sure; it was Ray who had found him and taken him in. But Rose had guided his love for music with Julie.

As he danced around the garden, a strong breeze whipped his hair. He noticed something flying towards him - a leaf, probably. But as he saw it flutter against the wind, he realized that it was a butterfly.

Without thinking, he reached up, letting the butterfly stop against his palm. He shielded it from the wind with his other hand, letting it regain its balance. He giggled as it crawled across his finger, the faint tickling sensation like dandelion wisps on his nose in the Summer. Then, the butterfly took flight against the wind, this time able to push back and fly.

…

Reggie, after finding his suit vest draped across a rosebush, wandered through the corridor to Alex’s room. He, Alex, and Luke had become close friends in the past week. Something about the three of them just clicked.

He knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern that matched with the song stuck in his head, sauntering in, the word treason filling his ears. A grin spread across his face; he knew exactly what the treason was.

“Well,” Luke began, “the arranged marriage was already a major fuck-up on the council’s decision. We could add in some treason to the mix. Just for funsies.” Reggie nodded. He might’ve been seen as a goody-two-shoes to some people, but he wasn’t opposed to breaking some rules.

“You just want to hang out with Julie, don’t you?” Alex asked. Luke flushed, and Reggie grinned.

“Called it,” he said.

“Oh come on, you too?”

“Dude,” Reggie began. “I love you, but you’re not exactly subtle.” Luke pouted, and Alex cracked up. “You, on the other hand,” Reggie added, “I’m not sure who your treasonous crush is.” He knew Alex was gay, but there weren’t any guys he knew of that he would like.

“A baker named Willie,” Luke interjected before Alex could reply. “And I still haven’t heard the story of how you met, I might add.” Alex groaned, and Reggie clapped. A baker. That was so cliche, but so adorable. He could already see the wedding.

“I assume there’s no way I’m getting out of this?”

“Not a chance,” Luke and Reggie replied in unison, and Reggie high-fived him without looking. Alex groaned.

“So, you remember the feast the night I got here? I was kinda overwhelmed so I stepped out the back door, and this guy just fuckin… Ran me over.” Reggie laughed.

“He pancaked you!”

“Exactly that. Anyway, that happened and I kinda froze because he was really cute. And eventually we were just… Chatting. And I can’t fucking get him out of my mind and now I’m royally fucked because this is treason.”

“Well, like I said, I’m always down for a little treason,” Reggie repeated. “And might I add, that is adorable!!!”

“I know, right?” Luke asked, grinning at Reggie. He nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s an adorable, treasonous meet-cute!!! I swear, this is like something out of a romance novel.”

“That’s what I thought!!!”

“You two are the worst,” Alex informed them.

“You love us,” Reggie said with a grin.

“Unfortunately.”

“Now, Luke. What’s this I hear about some more treasonous feelings for a certain Princess Julie Molina?” Reggie poked his friend in the ribs, laughing when his blush went all the way to his ears.

“Uh, well, it’s not really feelings, plus, I doubt Reggie wants to hear about hypothetical feelings someone might have for his sister.”

“Wrong,” Reggie said. “I want to know everything.” There was no way he was getting away with crushing on his sister without Reggie doing some well-meaning meddling. He didn’t mind that Luke liked Julie, of course. He was a nice guy, and Julie clearly liked him as well. But, Luke was also one of his best friends, and therefore required to spill.

“See, I would explain, but the self-defense class starts in a minute-”

“Thirty,” Reggie corrected.

“Like I said, it starts in a minute, so I’d better run.” Without another word, he bolted out the door.

“You can’t keep running from your feelings forever,” Alex called to Luke.

“No, but I can run from you two goons!” Reggie cracked up, along with Alex.

“Simp,” Reggie declared.

“Definitely.”

“Hey, you mentioned you play drums, right?”

“Yeah,” Alex said with a smile. “And you play… bass?”

“Yep! There’s a recording studio in the basement, you want to go play?”

“I’d love to! Luke keeps getting on my case because I tap on the desk when I’m working through sim files.” Reggie nodded. It was understandable for him as well; even though he wasn’t a drummer, he had ADHD, and sim files were such a pain. They were cool, sure; they were files in which you developed a country similar to Dahlia, and there were social issues, economic questions, political queries, all of which would affect how your practice country developed, even with the details of foreign relations. Reggie wasn’t bad at them, per se, but it was probably a good thing that he wasn’t becoming king. He always got distracted, and while he was quite good at it, especially diplomacy, it just wasn’t what he wanted to do. And it wasn’t a matter of ADHD, either. Julie had ADD. She was just better at it, maybe because she’d been raised for it since birth, and Reggie had lived here for a considerably short time compared to her.

His most recent sim file was on economic development, concerning poverty, disproportionate wealth, and tax rates. Dahlian wealth was relatively evenly distributed; much better than some countries. But he just didn’t like the way the sim files were set up.

…

“Dude, this is sick!” Alex’s enthusiasm was practically tangible, and Reggie smiled.

“I know, right? Just be careful not to touch the handshake prank things on the shelf,” he added, pointing to a small stash. “They’re Carlos’s. One time he added some static electricity and zapped me, and it felt just like the time I was fixing my amp in the rain.”

“You shouldn’t… Okay.”

“Anyway, how do you like the drums?” Alex played a rhythm on the bass, snare, and hi-hat, grinning.

“They’re awesome,” he decided. “In a lot better shape than my set back in Tambor. I’ve had them since I was seven, and they’re pretty beat-up.”

“Oof,” Reggie said. “These are a bit old, but none of us are any good at playing, so they’re just like new!”

Reggie hopped across the room to grab his bass, strapping it around his shoulders and playing a riff. It started with a slide down the A string, and when he began adding more notes, Alex joined in with a rhythm. Reggie gasped.

“Alex, that sounds perfect!” When Alex gave him a confused look, Reggie realized he hadn’t given context. “Julie and I have been writing a song called Icarus, and trying to learn the drums to add in a beat, but that riff I was playing was the baseline for it, right? That beat you were just playing sounded perfect. Dude, we gotta get Jules in here later. She’s gonna be pumped.” Alex grinned.

“That sounds awesome, dude! What’s the song like?”

“It’s pretty upbeat,” Reggie started. “It’s got a sort of inspirational vibe to it. The guitar we’re trying to add has kind of a rock and roll sound, but not metal. I’m trying to figure out how to play it, but I always strum wrong since I’m so used to bass.” He laughed, remembering how he’d tried to strum with the outside of his index finger.

“No way,” Alex said. Reggie gave him a confused look. “Luke plays guitar. He’s insane at it, too. What if the four of us played it? You on the bass, me on drums, Luke on guitar, and Julie on piano and vocals?”

“And you, Luke and I could be backup vocals! Alex, you’re a genius. We’ll be Julie’s Beyonce girls.”

“Yeah, okay.” Reggie grinned. This would be perfect. He just needed to get Julie and Julie’s Future Treasonous Boyfriend (Luke) to join them in the studio later.

…

Self-defense was interesting to say the least. Reggie had the honor of watching his little sister teach a bunch of nervous trainees a move that, if he was being honest, was impossible to do for anybody but Julie. He only caught the last demonstrative round, though, which proved to be just as entertaining as watching her whole teaching session would be.

Why? Well, because she was sparring with Luke. The tension was tangible as they ducked and dodged and struck, and as Julie ended up on top of him, his collar in her fist, a confident smirk on her face, Reggie grinned to himself at how oblivious they both were. They oozed chemistry.

He approached as Lady Athena instructed the trainees to pair up and practice, and luckily caught the flustered and excited look on both Luke’s and Julie’s faces when Lady Athena paired them for sparring. He shot a knowing look at them as he paired with Mira to spar.

They made idle conversation as they practiced, occasionally interrupted by a quick “duck” as the other sent a strike their way.

“Did you know your sister was this oblivious?” Mira asked him. Reggie laughed.

“Nope, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She has a habit of ignoring things she doesn’t like, which probably includes treasonous emotions.” Mira laughed, and Reggie took advantage of it, flipping her over and pinning her, winning the match, laughing as she rolled her eyes but took his hand, pulling her up.

“Believe me, I know,” Mira said. “She once got a sim file from a nearby sim country in her foreign relations packet that was questioning the ethics of her country on LGBTQ matters, and she just ignored it because it annoyed her.” Reggie snorted. That did sound like Julie.

Twisting around Mira’s next attack, but quickly regretting it as she hooked her ankle around his knee, knocking him over and winning, Reggie wondered if he could somehow set them up.

“Hey, Mira?”

“Mhm?”

“You know how one of your jobs as Julie’s lady-in-waiting is to help arrange her outfits?” Mira nodded, a smirk growing on her face.

“Say no more.” Reggie grinned. Reggie was his name, and meddling was his game.

…

Reggie was working on a new riff for the bridge of Icarus when someone knocked on his door.

“Come in,” he called, still bent over his notebook, scrawling down notes as he hummed.

“Hey, mijo?” Reggie whirled around to see Ray. He smiled.

“Hi Ray! Everything okay?”

“Not exactly, but I’ll explain that later. We need you in the royal office. I’ve already been to see Julie, Luke, and Alex, they’re coming as well. Just… It might be a long night, so put on something respectable but comfortable.”

“Okay,” Reggie agreed, concerned. “Did something happen?” Ray bit his lip nervously and nodded, walking away without another word.

-----

Willie POV

...

“Hey, Alyssa, how’s that dough looking?” Willie asked from across the kitchen, where he was gathering ingredients for the Hawaiian style shredded chicken.

“Almost done rising,” she called back. “Probably needs about five more minutes.”

“Awesome, thanks!”

“Yep!”

Willie gathered the ingredients in his arms, doing his best not to poke his eye out with the leaves of the pineapple. As he reached his counter, he set down the huge fruit, spreading out the other ingredients, many of them spices. He grabbed a knife from the block behind him, chopping the leaves off of the pineapple, then spinning it as he scalped the rough, pointy skin off as well. He chopped the rest into small pieces and brought them to Alyssa, who was in front of a large slow cooker with chicken inside. He set the bowl down on the counter, nodding from her thanks and running back to the dough, separating and rolling it to create rolls, sticking them in the oven.

“Willie, why don’t you go on break,” Lilian suggested. Willie jumped; Lilian walked silently, and she’d appeared right behind him.

“You’ve been working really hard today,” she added. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good! Thanks.” It was the truth, he was fine. But he was working extra hard today because, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep Alex off his mind. He always worked best when he had something else to think about; the actions practically did themselves. He hadn’t even realized how much he was doing.

“I think I’ll take you up on that break,” he decided. “Be back in an hour or so?” Lilian nodded, patting his shoulder.

“Relax, child.”

“Who are you calling ‘child?’” he asked. “You’re only twenty-five.”

“And you’re nineteen. You’re a child.” Willie rolled his eyes but laughed.

“See you later!”

…

As he ran out the door, leaving his apron swinging on a hook, who would he see but Alex? A grin broke out on his face and, despite his better judgement, he called out to him (after he’d settled his blush, of course).

“Hey there, your royal pancakeness!” He called, butterflies rising in his stomach as Alex looked his way.

“Hey, Willie! How’s it going?”

“Pretty good! Just got on break. You okay?” He asked, noticing the nervousness in Alex’s (beautiful) eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Alex assured him. “Just walking.”

“Cool.” He fixed his hair, flipping it away from his shoulders. “You sure? You look a little dazed.”

I am too, but that’s just because you’re adorable.

“Just a little tired, I guess.” The lie was a classic one, and Willie saw right through it. He could tell that Alex didn’t want to talk about it, though so he left it alone. He always hated having people up in his business.

“Well, make sure you get some sleep tonight,” he told him. “In the meantime, I’m off to skate a little. You wanna come?”

Willie wasn’t sure if Alex would say yes, no, or just walk away laughing. Skateboarding wasn’t something you would expect a prince to do.

But then, Alex replied, “I’d love to,” and Willie’s grin stretched even wider, dearly hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Sick! Follow me.”

He led Alex down the back of the corridor, thankful that Alex was behind him, because that meant he could let his gay panic show on his face without letting the person causing it know. His long hair blocked his jaw from view, as well, so he was confident that Alex was oblivious to the fact that Willie was currently aggressively mouthing cute boy cute boy cute boy.

Willie took Alex’s hand, grinning when Alex smiled. He brought him out the back door, into the streaming sunlight and to the park in the gardens. Hardly anybody knew of its existence, which was just how Willie liked it. He’d been given permission to skate there, and never once had he seen another person there. Bringing Alex there felt strange, but right. This had become Willie’s area, where he would go to get away from people when he needed to, and now he was letting Alex in. He wasn’t quite sure what compelled him to do it, but he was glad he did.

Willie shot him a glance, getting on the skateboard and flying down the sidewalks, jumping over metal rails and benches. He did a quick kickflip after he landed, skating back around the roundabout, his grin wide as ever as he made his way back to Alex.

“Want to try?”

“Oh, no,” Alex replied, “I’ve never actually skateboarded before, and I’m pretty sure I’d just look stupid.”

“You’ve never skated before?” Willie’s eyebrows knit together. He wasn’t necessarily surprised, given that Alex was a prince, but still, every boy he’d ever met had skateboarded.

“Not once.”

“Well, there’s an easy way to fix that,” Willie said with a grin, extending his hand as he stepped off the skateboard. His heart fluttered as Alex reluctantly took it, his hand cold but soft as he held on, stepping on.

But before he could say anything, Alex was stepping onto it lopsidedly, and Willie instinctively ran around behind him, his hands bracing Alex’s shoulders as he fell. Willie had rather large hands, and as his thumbs stretched to his back, he felt Alex’s racing heartbeat. He knew it was because he’d almost fallen off of a skateboard, but he couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Alex said. “I-

“No, bro, you’re good! Just glad I caught you,” Willie said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex replied, and Willie tried (and failed) to calm his blush. He noticed a few freckles across Alex’s nose, barely there, like stars in the sky just after sunset.

“Okay, let’s try this again.” Willie outstretched his hand again, and grinned when Alex took it, stepping on steadily, squeezing his hand.

He liked this, holding hands with Alex. He could imagine doing this every day, casual affection, maybe playing with his hair-

No. He shoved those thoughts out of his head. Alex was in an arranged marriage. To get in the way of that would be treason. Plus, Willie didn’t even know if Alex liked guys.

“I did it!” Alex exclaimed, a grin on his face as he stood on the skateboard. Willie broke out into a huge smile, his chest swelling with pride. Alex was a nerd, but he was his nerd.

“Hell yeah, dude! Want me to push you so you move?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Understandable, have a nice day.” Willie and Alex both cracked up, tears in his eyes. But he heard wobbling, and soon he was catching Alex right in front of him as he fell. Willie leaned back, stopping himself from falling on his back, but the main thing on his mind was how close he and Alex were. Their chests were pressed together, and Willie could barely tell whose racing heartbeat was his. He was close enough to count Alex’s long eyelashes, close enough to...

It was a nice thought, but it would never happen.

Willie’s arms were wrapped around Alex’s waist, holding him steady as he stood up straighter, but not letting go. He held his gaze, steadying his breath, lost in Alex’s eyes. They were a mixture of blue, green, and grey, light but mysterious and beautiful, like frost on a garden, twinkling in moonlight. Without meaning to, his eyes flicked to Alex’s lips for a split second, and Willie could’ve sworn Alex’s did the same.

Finally, Alex cleared his throat and stepped back. Willie wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed. He liked holding Alex like that.

“Sorry, I kinda… Fell.” Willie cracked up at the bluntness.

“Yeah, I caught that. No pun intended.” He hated himself for the pun, but all of the hate was replaced with love when Alex let out a snort.

“That,” he said through giggles, “was so bad.” Willie blushed but laughed too, caught up in the mirth in Alex's eyes. He looked so young, laughing like this, free and happy. And when he’d finally composed himself, his cheeks were rosy from laughter, small lines around his eyes.

It was official: Willie was smitten.

-----

Julie POV

...

Julie groaned.

It had been an entire week, and all of her interactions with Luke were minimal and cordial, but there was something in his eyes that she couldn’t shake. Every time he bowed, his eyes would flick up to meet hers, every time he smiled, they would crinkle and smile with his lips. Julie couldn’t get rid of these stupid feelings, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times she told herself that she was literally about to commit treason every time she was tempted to act.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve groaned in the past ten minutes,” Flynn pointed out. “Care to tell us what’s going on?”

“Jules, we know something’s wrong. You can try to hide it all you want, but that won’t change it.” Carrie examined her perfect nails, which were painted gold and shimmered in the light.

“I don’t know,” she lied. Flynn and Carrie shared a look.

“Alright, what’s his name?” Julie bolted upright from her spot on her bed, flushed.

“What do you mean?” Her two friends shared another look and laughed.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Carrie told her, “you know that?” Julie groaned a fifth time.

“So I’ll ask again,” Flynn decided. “What’s his name?” When Julie stayed silent, she added, “dude. You know that if anyone’s down for a little treason, it’s us.” She wasn’t wrong, and Julie knew that. Flynn was ride-or-die, Carrie too. Neither of them would hesitate before committing war crimes if it meant helping Julie, and she didn’t take that for granted. She was still emotional about it, though.

“You know Alex’s guard, Luke?”

“The one who was showering you in compliments at self-defense last week?” Flynn asked, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“He complimented me once, Flynn.”

“Tell yourself whatever you need to.”

“I think I will.”

Carrie snorted. “Jules, you clearly like him. Make a move!”

“Carrie,” Julie said calmly. “I say this with love. Are you out of your mind?”

“I mean, probably.” Flynn cracked up and Carrie’s perfect face had a smug little smile that pissed Julie off. She flopped back down.

“This whole thing sucks.”

“You’re not wrong,” Flynn agreed, though she still had a grin on her face. “You know what would help?”

“Treason?” Carrie suggested.

“Nope! Well, yes, but I was going to say getting ready for self-defense. Lady Athena wanted us to go early today, remember?”

Unfortunately, Julie did remember, and she was dreading it. Lady Athena had asked if she could practice her upside-down move some more, and then show it to the training guards, plus a demonstrative spar with each of the other three girls to show how to use it against different fighting styles.

Before she could respond, Mira walked in, piles of fabric in her arms.

“Who’s ready to go?” She asked enthusiastically. “I just had these tailored,” she said, putting down the fabric, which turned out to be matching athletic clothes. Soft, high-waisted capris leggings, with matching tops that were slim-fitting and cropped at the ribs. The halter neckline was gentle and hemmed, nothing fancy or tied.

“They should be nice and cool so you don’t get too sweaty,” Mira explained, “and they’re form-fitting to make movement easier.” She handed a set to Julie, violet in color. Carrie’s was hot pink, and Flynn’s was jade green. Mira wore a sky blue set.

“Mira, have I mentioned that you’re the best lady-in-waiting ever?” Julie asked, a huge grin spreading on her face.

“Not in the last five minutes.”

…

As she walked into the training arena, flanked by Flynn, Mira, and Carrie, Julie pulled her hair into a ponytail, giving Lady Athena a grin.

“Alright, ready to show these guys how it’s done?” she asked confidently, her bronze skin shimmering in the light. Julie nodded. Lady Athena patted Julie’s shoulder and turned back to the group of about twenty young people, ranging from about thirteen to twenty, of all genders. She scanned the eyes, recognizing some of them from her previous self-defense classes, before she stopped on a pair of hazel ones.

Luke wasn’t with the group of trainees, rather standing on the sidelines. Without thinking, Julie approached him.

“Hey Luke!” His cheeks flushed.

“Hey, Julie, what’s up?”

“Not much,” she replied. “Just came early because Lady Athena wanted me to show the trainees my upside-down move.” She fidgeted, tightening her ponytail. “Why are you here? The main session doesn’t start for another thirty minutes.”

“Oh,” he said with a shy laugh. “Alex and Reggie were giving me shit for… something, and I decided to escape.” Julie caught his slip, but didn’t say anything.

“That’s valid.”

“Julie?” Called Lady Athena. “You ready?”

“That’s my cue,” she said, hopping away and over to stand next to the coach. Her eyes travelled to Flynn, Carrie, and Mira, who were standing behind the eager trainees, all giving her The Look and glancing at Luke. Julie gave them a quick death stare, before going back to smiling at the trainees.

“Okay, everyone,” Lady Athena called, quieting the chatter amongst the group. “Princess Julie is here to show us a new move she came up with. We haven’t come up for it yet, have we?”

“No, not yet,” Julie responded. “But I’m working on it. Oh, and you can all call me Julie.”

“Right. So, Julie here is going to demonstrate the move, first on her own, then with a few other people she’s brought, to show how it works against different fighting styles. Julie?”

“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands nervously. “So, the first thing is knowing when to do it. You generally do it when your opponent has you in a position where you have to lean forward.” She demonstrated, bending a bit forward. “Then, you jump, land on your hand - and it’s important that it’s the hand that matches the direction you’re facing. If you lean forward to the right, your opponent’s left, you jump on your right hand, and vice versa. Then, you spin by using momentum in your hips. This is mostly to distract them. Then, after the initial spin, you spin again, but rather than upright, you bend your elbow, lean like this-” she went through the previous moves then leaned to the side, putting down her leg to hold herself in the same position- “and spin, swinging your legs behind your opponent’s ankles to trip them backwards.” She demonstrated that bit as well, as slow as she could while still doing it correctly. “Then once they’re down, you use your spinning momentum to get on top of them and finish the fight.”

As she stood back up, she noted the confused or scared looks on the trainees’ faces, as well as an approving smile from Lady Athena and silent applause from Flynn, Mira, and Carrie- and Luke. At some point during her demonstration, he’d made his way over to her friends, and they were quietly chatting as she moved.

“That looks really hard,” one of the trainees piped up, “but super badass.” If there was a way to verbally keysmash, Julie did it.

“Thanks so much!!! Though I should tell you, the first time I did it was completely by accident, and I sprained my wrist doing the initial spin. Afterwards, the only reason I tried it again was because Flynn bet me I couldn’t.” She shot a glance at her best friend, and her smirk and nod make her laugh. “But eventually,” she continued, “Lady Athena saw me trying to do it and gave me some tips, and one thing led to another, and here we are.”

After a few moments of stunned silence, Lady Athena spoke.

“Okay, Julie, why don’t you get some water, and we’ll do the demonstrations with opponents?”

“Sounds good.” She spun on her heel, jogging over to her friends, ignoring the butterflies as she caught Luke’s eye.

“Dude, I don’t know how you managed to do that spin in slow motion,” Mira told her. Julie laughed.

“Practice and good core strength.” She sat down on the bench, Mira by her side.

“Hey, uh, Julie?” asked Luke. She was guzzling water, so she hummed a questioning tone. “Would it be okay if I joined them and tried to learn the move?” he asked, gesturing his head to the group of preparing trainees. Julie put down her water bottle, smirking, a sudden bubble of confidence welling up inside her.

“Technically, you’re not a trainee. But, you could be one of the demonstrative opponents if you want to,” she offered. “I’m supposed to show how the move works against different fighting styles, and I think a Tamborian fighting style would add some variety,” she reasoned, ignoring Carrie’s eyebrow wiggle from behind Luke.

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded with a grin.

“Sounds good, boss.” Julie flushed at the nickname.

…

As she sparred with Carrie, she spoke between her moves.

"See, Carrie fights like a dancer. She's graceful and quick-" she dodged a blow from the girl, taking the opportunity to jump on her hand and twist, spinning and quickly tripping Carrie- "but not quick enough. No opponent is going to expect you to pull a breakdancing move on them." As she got on top of Carrie, pressing her elbow across her shoulders and pinning her down, a grin spread across her face.

Julie got up and extended her hand to Carrie, who took her forearm and Julie took hers, pulling her up.

Mira was up next. She jumped into a fighting position, her flaming red hair swinging behind her. Julie smirked, making the first blow.

"Mira, on the other hand, fights like a ninja. She's lithe and graceful, but deadly." Julie leaned forward, spinning on her hand and tripping Mira, quickly pouncing over her to win, before helping her up again. Next, Flynn.

Flynn made the first move, striking near Julie's shoulder, she bolted out of the way, turning to strike back.

"Flynn is catlike when she fights," Julie explained, dodging another blow. "She's light on her feet and quick, with amazing reflexes. However-" she jumped and spun on her hand, tripping Flynn and ending the fight- "it turns out, cats don't always land on their feet." She shot Flynn a wink.

She glanced at Luke, whose cheeks were bright red, but he had a confident smile on his face. Julie grinned.

"Next I'm going to fight with Luke. He's from Tambor, so this will be new." She gestured with a quick nod for him to come over.

As Julie stepped into fighting position, Luke winked. Julie ignored the butterflies in her stomach, overwhelmed with confidence as Luke struck. She dodged and blocked, striking back any chance she had.

Luke was surprisingly competent, but very opportunistic, which Julie took advantage of. As he lost his balance, she spun upside down and tripped him, quickly using her momentum to get on top of him, pinning his hips with her leg. She grabbed his collar and pulled her fist back in a final move, but froze. It was just training, after all.

Now it was Julie's turn to wink, which seemed to fluster Luke even more.

They stayed like that for a few seconds before Julie got up, outstretching her hand to Luke. He took her forearm and she took his, pulling him up.

“Nice job!” she told him.

“Oh, please, I just got my ass kicked and you didn’t even break a sweat.” Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew you were awesome, but I didn’t know you were a human wrecking ball.” Julie flushed, stammering.

“I- well, I don’t-”

“He’s right,” Carrie insisted. You were awesome.” And God, Julie wished Luke hadn’t grinned at Carrie’s agreement, because he had the cutest eyes ever. Honestly, it should’ve been illegal. Her first order of business when she was crowned queen would be to make it illegal to fluster her.

“Okay, trainees,” called Lady Athena. “Pair up and spar. If you want, spot the other and try the move. I’ll be hovering to make sure nobody gets hurt.” She clapped her hands with finality, and the trainees did as they were told. “The rest of you,” she added, directed at Julie and her group, “practice while you can. Oh, Julie, I want you to practice with Luke today. See if you can work out some similarities and differences between Dahlian and Tamborian fighting styles.”

Julie nodded, ignoring the way her heart pounded, ignoring how Luke started fidgeting, and especially ignoring the incredibly annoying looks from Mira, Flynn, Carrie, and Reggie, who had just popped in to join.

Digest those butterflies, Molina. D i g e s t t h e m.

“Alright, boss,” Luke said after a moment. “Ready to kick my ass?” Julie laughed.

“Let’s do it.”

Luke struck first, a playful grin on his face. Julie quickly deflected, twisting his arm and twirling behind him, gently (since it was training, and he was cute) shoving the backs of his knees and pinning him as he fell down, kneeling hunched over with Julie holding his wrists behind his back.

“That’s one for me!” She laughed as he groaned.

“Damn, and to think I ever thought I was good at hand-to-hand,” he said with a grin. Julie blushed and helped him up. “Wait, I want to try that spinny move thing.” Julie stepped back, letting Luke jump onto his hand, but as soon as he spun, he fell.

“Gah, my wrist!” Julie rushed over to where Luke was now sitting, reaching out to help him-

Then, that little shit grinned and grabbed her arm, pulling her down and spinning on top of her, pinning her shoulders.

He shot her a cocky grin. “And that’s one for me.” Julie rolled her eyes, hating the way her heart was fluttering.

“That wouldn’t work in a real fight, you know.” She rolled out from under him, fixing her hair.

“Oh, I know,” he said in a relaxed manner. “It’s just fun to annoy you.” Julie’s stupid heart fluttered again, and she looked away, sure her face was on fire.

“Alright, rematch.” Luke nodded, and Julie hopped into fighting position. Luke did the same, and Julie didn’t hesitate to strike. She moved quickly, remembering her forms and the movements that Lady Athena had drilled into her since she could walk. She spun, aiming for Luke’s shoulder. When he leaned to the side to dodge, she jumped onto her hand, twirling and tripping him-

Or, she tried to.

Luke had completely jumped over her legs, anticipating the move. She really shouldn’t have been surprised, but it caught her off guard. She tried to recompose herself, but Luke was quicker than he looked, and had grabbed her arm, spinning her with her back against his chest and his forearm across her shoulders, pressing tight enough to prove that he’d won, but not as hard as he would’ve if it were a real fight. If it had been real, his arm would’ve been over her throat, anyways. Julie could feel his heartbeat between her shoulder blades, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I win,” he said softly, but Julie could hear the shit-eating grin behind the words. She smirked to herself. No way was she going down that easy.

Before Luke could move, she reached with her arm and grabbed his wrist from its place near her collarbone, bending forwards and throwing him over her shoulder. As his back hit the ground, she spun, pressing her forearm against his shoulders and flattening herself over him so he couldn’t move.

“Actually, I win.”

…

“Okay,” Flynn said after everyone had changed and gathered back in Julie’s room. “If you can’t tell by now that Luke is in love with you, I don’t know what else to do.”

“Flynn. He’s not in love with me, nor am I in love with him.” Flynn, Carrie, and Mira all shared a look and laughed. But before Julie could respond, a knock echoed on her door.

“Come in.” Julie smiled as her dad walked into her room. “Hey dad! Everything okay?” she asked when she noticed the crease between his eyebrows.

“Not exactly.”

“Uh oh,” she replied, standing up.

“We need you in the royal office.” Julie’s stomach dropped. “Your friends can come if they would like,” he added, shooting a kind but worried glance at Flynn, Mira, and Carrie, “but this is a tense situation, and they would be required to keep it all classified.”

“We can do that,” Carrie said, a single crease between her brows. Mira and Flynn nodded. Julie couldn’t shake the nervousness in her stomach.

“Did I do something?”

“No, no, don’t worry, mija. Está bien, it’s nothing that you did. But it’s not good. Just… put on something respectable but comfortable. It might be a long night.” He turned to walk out the door, but Julie grabbed his sleeve.

“Papá, ¿qué pasó?” Ray sighed.

“Do you remember Caleb Covington? He’s the king of Krypto.”

“Yeah, but it’s been awhile.” Ray sighed again, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.

“The kingdom of Krypto has declared war on Dahlia.”

#be who you are (no compromise)#blue writes #bwya tag

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rexisnotyourwriter · 3 years

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by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming

After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.

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*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*

Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab

Chapter 2: Feeling Like a Loner

The bell rang. The class full of children emptied in a flurry of squeals. The teacher breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped when she noticed she wasn’t alone. A pair of mousy braids sat by the window watching her peers spill out into the playground like ants under a log. They scattered, dispersing themselves amongst the jungle gym, the hopscotch marked concrete, and the small patch of grass they called a field.

The teacher softly called her name.

They’d had this conversation before, usually ending with her forfeiting her smoke break to stay in the classroom.

The girl didn’t turn around.

“You have to go outside today,” she added. “It’s a beautiful day. And look at those clouds. I think that one looks like a cow.”

The girl didn’t move.

“Sweetie.” The teacher put a hand on her shoulder. The girl finally turned to face her. “Why don’t you go outside, hmm?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because it’s fun. Look. Look at all the fun they’re having.”

The girl looked back out the window and contemplated.

“That doesn’t look fun to me,” she concluded, matter-of-factly.

“You need to go outside today.”

“Why?”

“Because teachers need a break, too, and I can’t supervise you in here,” she responded bluntly.

“Oh,” the girl replied. “Okay.”

She got up from her seat and grabbed her neatly folded cardigan from the cubby.

Once outside, she found a good vantage point - a mostly flat rock at the edge of the field where she can see most of the schoolyard.

A group of boys were playing jacks. They’d made it to foursies, from what she could tell. Another boy hovered around them asking to join, but they ignored him.

The girl turned away from them and took a rubber ball out of the front pocket of her overalls. She bounced it against the ground on her own. Then, she turned back to the boys, still steadily bouncing her ball. She watched. When the time was right, she launched her ball into their game, knocking the jacks out of a boy’s hand. They yelled. She caught her ball without missing a beat.

The girl smiled, then turned her attention to the jungle gym. Almost ten children were winding their bodies between the bars, some resting on levels, others climbing to the highest perch. The few children in the center looked like they were imprisoned. An acrobatic cage. One boy made it to the top, or rather almost. His feet were on the second highest bars, his hands on the highest. He put one foot up on the high bar and tested his balance, releasing the pressure on his other grounded foot. His hand slipped, but he got his grip in time to only suffer a minor embarrassment (one of his friends saw, and proceeded to laugh). The boy climbed down after that.

She looked down at her cream colored Mary Janes and tapped her toes together. In the corner of her eye, inching toward her, was a remarkably fuzzy caterpillar. It bobbed up and down like a wave, growing closer and closer to the shore of her shoe.

“I got it,” someone yelled.

Then thud.

The caterpillar disappeared under a grass stained sneaker belonging to the boy who “got it”. “It” was a rubber ball, and the boy she recognized as the one whose turn at jacks was interrupted.

He ran back to his friends, taking no notice of her or his victim. The insect, upon inspection, hadn’t been entirely crushed, and was still wriggling. She gingerly scooped it up with a sturdy leaf and rested it in one hand while she cupped her other around it like a shield. She watched it writhe with increasing intensity, then intermittently, then not at all.

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

On the following Monday morning, Bill was surprised to see that he had beat Holden in to work.

He poked his head in Wendy’s office.

“Captain America not in yet?”

“No,” she replied, barely looking up from the page in front of her.

“Maybe he finally got lucky,” Bill joked.

He got a smirk out of her that time.

Bill turned around and, seeing that Gregg was preoccupied with a phone call, didn’t bother closing the door.

“I’m going up to talk to Gunn,” he said softly.

“Good.” She paused. “Do you know what you’re going to tell him?”

“Marital problems.”

Wendy nodded her approval.

Gregg’s voice got louder from the hallway.

“Is he still on the phone?” Wendy asked.

Bill turned to confirm. “Yup.”

Wendy closed her file.

“This is ridiculous. We can’t be expected to assist in every single murder case across the country. We can’t even keep up with the inquiries.”

“What did Gunn say?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I haven’t really mentioned it, not explicitly. He’s not exactly receptive to my ideas. Knowing him, he would probably ask why Gregg was the one dealing with it and suggest I take over secretarial duties.”

“He’s not that bad, is he?”

Wendy’s eyes flicked up at him. Her look said it all.

“I’ll talk to him,” Bill decided. “Tell him we need to hire someone.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

Holden speed walked into the office, his forehead glistening with sweat.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bill greeted.

Wendy got up from her desk and joined Bill in the doorway.

“Sorry,” Holden muttered breathlessly.

“Is everything alright?” Wendy asked.

“What? Oh, yeah. I had to take the bus, but I forgot my wallet at home and…It’s been a morning.”

“How’s your car?”

“What happened to your car?” Bill interjected.

Holden, still exasperated, dropped his briefcase on the desk with a thud.

“It wouldn’t start when I went to leave the bar on Friday, so Wendy gave me a ride home.”

Bill threw a side-eyed glance at Wendy who wrinkled her nose in subtle disgust.

No, Bill.

“I got it towed to the shop on Saturday,” Holden continued, “but it wasn’t a dead battery. Turns out I need a new timing belt, and they couldn’t get one in until today. I have to pick it up in a couple hours because they close early, and when I called this morning it still wasn’t ready, which is why I had to take the bus. Hence…” He gestured to his state of disarray and exhaled.

“Happy Monday,” Wendy said before disappearing back into her office.

Bill got roped into a case that delayed his plan to talk to Gunn. It was almost 11am before he was finally able to go upstairs. Nearly 23 minutes later, Bill returned to the basement where Holden and Wendy appeared to be waiting for him. The pair looked at him expectantly.

“It went fine,” Bill admitted. “He gave me some sympathy about ‘the old ball and chain’ and poured me a finger of whiskey. As long as we stay on track and deliver, we’re good.”

“That’s great, Bill,” Holden said.

“And Gunn agreed about hiring an assistant,” Bill added, to Wendy’s relief. “A non-agent, but someone who can deal with the sensitive matter. He said he would talk to you about it.”

Wendy’s face dropped.

“Why me?”

Bill opened his mouth to explain, but stopped. He couldn’t find the right words.

She understood.

“Of course,” she added bitterly. Because I’m the woman.

Sometimes she missed Boston.

“Oh, shoot,” Holden exclaimed, noticing the time. “I gotta go.”

“Did you send that profile to Osborn?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, I just faxed it over,” he replied, already halfway out the door.

“Kids,” Bill joked, shaking his head.

“So, how’d it really go?” Wendy inquired.

“It really did go fine,” he replied sincerely. “Better than expected, honestly.”

“But?”

Bill sat on the edge of the desk.

“I guess I still feel…uneasy about the situation with Brian. How would it look if the FBI found out my kid was involved in a murder.”

“But he wasn’t, Bill. They concluded he wasn’t responsible. It’s on the record.”

“I know. And I know that logically he thought the cross was a good idea,” he admitted. “I just don’t feel good about it. And now I can’t even keep an eye on him. I don’t know if he’s still wetting the bed. Or if he’s started sucking his thumb again, or if he’s spoken at all.”

Wendy offered him a sympathetic smile.

“From what you’ve told me, it seems likely that the regressions are a result of the traumatic experience. Nothing more.”

“I just feel so helpless.”

They sat in silence, neither knowing what else to say.

“If there’s anything I can do,” Wendy offered.

“Thanks. Really. I’m glad you’re around.”

Bill got up to leave.

Wendy passed by the fax machine on the way back to her office and picked up the pages of the profile Holden faxed to Alaska. She scanned the page, then stopped.

That little-

There was a knock.

“All by your lonesome, Dr. Carr?”

“Not anymore,” Wendy muttered under her breath.

She turned around to see Gunn standing in the doorway.

“I don’t know if Bill had a chance to mention it to you,” he said, making his way over to her.

“He did.”

“Good. HR has a standard secretary job posting. I’ll have them send it your way and you can let them know if there’s anything to be added. I trust you to select the applicants and conduct the interviews, but I need to sign off on the hire.”

“Isn’t this something that HR can handle on their own?”

“They don’t know what it’s like in the BSU. The intricacies of your operations. You’re the expert on that.”

She straightened her posture and folded her arms.

“You were involved in hiring Agent Smith, weren’t you?” he added, taking a few steps forward, closing the gap between them.

“Yes, but that was different,” she explained. “He’s actively involved in our work.”

“And so will the woman you hire.” She fought hard not to roll her eyes. “I thought you’d want to have a hand in who joins this team, Dr. Carr.”

“That’s -” she started, then stopped.

She took a breath.

“I feel that my time would be better spent focusing on our research,” she explained.

“And this is part of that,” Gunn stated confidently. “Everything that happens in this basement is. And beyond. All the cogs in the machine have to be well oiled and working together.”

His tone was final and his feet were already headed towards the door.

“Let me know if you haven’t gotten anything by the end of the week,” he added, already halfway out the door.

The phone rang, as if on cue.

She walked away, letting the sound echo in the empty room.

Wendy was in the break room getting her third coffee of the day when Holden returned from his errand.

“Hey, is there enough left for me?” he asked, preemptively grabbing a paper cup.

Wendy continued pouring coffee into her cup until the pot was empty. Holden looked at her cup, full to the brim. She picked it up carefully and took a sip from the top, looking Holden square in the eyes, before walking past him back to the office.

He stood there for a few seconds, stunned, before following her.

“Hey,” he called, just as she was about to enter her office.

Wendy turned around, unimpressed.

“Did I miss something?” Holden asked.

She was amused by his question, but not happy.

“Yes, Holden,” she said with more than a hint of condescension. “You missed a significant portion of my professional opinion in the Alaska profile.”

He thought for a moment, trying to remember what she could have been referring to.

“The military thing?” Her look confirmed his guess. “I thought we agreed he didn’t fit the military description.”

“I very clearly stated that it was very likely he did work at the air base.”

“Yes, but then I said I disagreed and you dropped it, so-”

“So, you took that to mean I conceded.”

“Well…”

She’d had it.

Gregg, who took notice of their dispute, removed his headphones to spectate properly, albeit discreetly.

“Look,” Holden said in a softer voice. “I don’t want to argue.”

“If you can’t tell the difference between a rational discussion and an argument-”

“Do you want me to call them?” he interrupted. ��Tell them we made a mistake and we’ll send a new assessment?”

Wendy weighed this option briefly.

“No,” she concluded. “The damage is done. It won’t look good if we change our mind unless we’ve been presented with new information.”

Holden exhaled loudly. She stared him down. It didn’t appear that he’d learned this lesson.

“What’s done is done,” she added.

She retired to her office, closing the door firmly behind her.

Gregg looked up at Holden. Holden stared back, trying to think of something to say. His mind drew a blank, and he walked away, shaking his head.

The first thing Wendy did when she got home was pour herself the remainder of her bottle of Pinot Gris. It filled her glass well past the acceptable half-way point, but who was there to judge her.

The second thing she did was check her answering machine. She always tried to do it casually - just a quick glance - as if someone might be watching and think she was neurotic. The little red bulb was dark, as it always was. It seemed like a silly purchase now, slowly gathering dust like her love life.

She took a large sip of wine and opened the fridge. It was sparse. There was half a carton of eggs, an opened container of hummus, a three inch block of cheddar, and a nearly empty carton of milk next to a half full carton of orange juice. The crisper contained a bruised apple, two oranges, and a few stalks of celery.

Unmoved by her options, Wendy opened the cupboard only to find a bag of dried apricots where there would normally be cans of tuna. She once again opened the fridge and took out the cheese, an orange, and two of the celery stalks. From the cupboard, she took out the dried apricots as well as a box of crackers from the one next to it. She sliced the cheese and arranged it carefully on a plate next to a matching number of crackers. Next to the crackers was the celery, cut into sticks, followed by orange wedges and a handful of dried apricots completing the circle. She scribbled down “tuna” and “milk” on the notepad pinned to the fridge before bringing her dinner to the living room.

Wendy settled into her usual chair, curled her feet up, and turned on the television. It was quarter to the hour, right in the middle of any half-hour show and too near the end of a full hour program. She flicked channels through twice before stopping on an episode of Wheel of Fortune, which promptly went to a commercial break.

She took a bite of one of the celery sticks only to find it bitter. It hadn’t looked spoiled from the outside, but it’s hard to tell sometimes. She tossed the stick back onto her plate and grabbed an apricot to cleanse her palate. Much better.

A man from Sarasota made it to the final round, but couldn’t guess the puzzle. Wendy got it in four seconds. When the episode ended, she turned off the television and brought her briefcase back to her chair. She pulled out the file she brought home on John Wayne Gacy. The Killer Clown.

Gacy’s mug shot was more unique than most. He was looking away from the camera, off to the side, and smiling. It was as if he was having a pleasant conversation with one of the officers when they snapped his picture. He didn’t look nice per se, however he wasn’t glistening with sweat. This wasn’t surprising though, considering he admitted he knew he was going to be arrested. And he confessed willingly, although it was only after police had found the remains in his crawl space.

Wendy read through the details of the first convicted murder, Timothy McCoy - formerly known as the “Greyhound Bus Boy”. Gacy had left a family party to go look at a display of ice sculptures, then decided to lure the 16-year-old to his car from the Chicago Greyhound Bus Terminal. He was on his way to Omaha from Nebraska. Gacy drove him around Chicago, showed him the sights, then back to his house where he told McCoy he could stay the night. He even offered him a ride to the station in the morning in time to catch his next bus. According to Gacy, he woke up early in the morning to see McCoy standing in his bedroom doorway with a knife. Gacy got out of bed and charged at McCoy, who raised his hands in surrender, still holding the knife. It cut Gacy’s arm in the panic. Gacy, who was much larger than McCoy, wrestled the knife from him and banged his head against the wall. Gacy kicked him multiple times. He wrestled him to the ground, straddled him, and stabbed him repeatedly. Then, Gacy claims he cleaned the knife in the bathroom. When he went into the kitchen, he found an open carton of eggs and a slab of bacon, unsliced, on the table, which was set for two.

This poor boy just wanted to make him breakfast, as a thank you, and he died for it. All because he didn’t leave the knife in the kitchen.

Wendy swirled the remainder of her drink in her glass, then held her hand steady and watched the wine continue to swirl and splash around the curves, briefly gaining momentum before slowing to a soft ripple.

Maybe Gacy would have killed him anyways. Maybe he never meant to drive him to the station that morning. Maybe McCoy was always meant to end up in Gacy’s crawl space, covered in concrete.

She took a sip and turned the page.

#op*#mindhunter #mindhunteredit #mindhunter fic #a tide in a city #wendy carr #bill tench #holden ford #ted gunn #gregg smith

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