#Luke hates grooming so it’s not as clean as it could have been. oh well. next time may be feet and ears tho!

[thebrittanybrigade]

My mom asked if I could dye Luke purple so I finally had an excuse to buy and try Opawz! It turned out cute!!

Fun bonus: the color choice upset a relative who decided it wasn’t an appropriate color for a boy 😂

[barbarianprncess]

“Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” and “Nobody’s seen you in days.” that would be inchresting 👀👀

for mari my beloved, 

(aka @chironshorseass ) 

as you know this sort of got away from me. one second i was writing a drabble of angst, the next I'm on the 16th page with no end in sight. so this maybe isn’t what you were expecting but have 5k of post-botl/pre-tlo pining idiot besties who are in love :). 

(also this hasn’t been beta’d and i'm welcome to volunteers i just finished and got so excited i had to post.)

(dear one anon who asked for 'forget it you're a fucking asshole' too, if you're reading this, don't worry yours is coming too i promise)

(final s/o to @posallys for letting me scream about them)

24 hours

read on ao3

enjoy <3

                                                      ...

Percy is fucking exhasted.

He was supposed to be back at camp four days ago. The deal was he’d spend weekdays at camp to plan and train and weekends at home to relax. But, he kept putting it off, opting to keep the weight on his chest that’d been pushing him down since last summer bearable, and not crushing the way it always was at camp. So, when he gets through the barrier, aside from nodding hello to Beckendorph and Silena, he makes a beeline to his cabin. He manages to keep his eyes down until he’s standing at his porch steps- and that when he sees her.

Annabeth is pacing on his balcony. She’s wearing jean shorts and her camp shirt, but instead of her typical ponytail her hair is in two intricate braids that reach her breastbone. She’s muttering to herself and wringing her hands together and for a moment Percy forgets. He forgets the past year and all the arguing and the bitterness and he sees Annabeth is worried about something and he reaches out as if to hold her. To wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything is going to be alright.  

But then he remembers.

He retracts his hands.

He clears his throat and Annabeth startles. Her grey eyes are as intense as ever and he can almost see her defences come up. He hates that it's because of him. Annabeth is the first to break the silence.

“Hey.” Her voice is small but clear. Not yet vulnerable, but gives Percy the sense that it could be soon.

“What’re you doing here?” He isn’t sure he said it out loud until she ducks her head and flushes.

“Nobody’s seen you in days.” It’s not the accusation he expects. It's also not an answer to his question. Just an observation.

“I’m here now.” He says it like it’s an invitation. He then becomes incredibly aware that he's still looking up at her from the bottom of the steps, so he grabs his duffel, bounds up the stairs, and opens his cabin door. He hesitates and meets her eye with another silent question. She answers by stepping inside.

He drops his bag by his bed and turns on the light. The air is charged with unasked questions and unfinished conversations. He can’t stand it. He’s about to attempt small talk when she says something that nearly knocks down where he stands.

“I miss you.” She’s wringing her hands again and she won’t look him in the eye, but takes his silence as confusion.

“That’s what I came here to say, that I miss you.”

Percy isn’t sure what to say. Percy isn’t sure this conversation is really happening, she’s broken so many of the fragile rules they’d been following all year. He’s 98% sure this is a really vivid daydream to cope with…. well everything.

He decides that on the off chance this is real he should play it safe so, he states the obvious.

“I’m here. We’re here, together. We’re together and-” She cuts him off and begins to ramble.

“Strained and awkward and it's like there’s this chasm between us of all these things from last summer. From our kiss, to you dying, and then you not dying, and Rachel, and Luke, and Luke being Not-Luke, and it’s like we can’t have a conversation anymore and that sucks ‘cause..”

She pauses for the first time to look up at him and her eyes are shining.

“You’re kinda my best friend. And I miss you. Everything sucks and I'm tired of fighting. And I really miss you.”

Percy’s too shocked to say anything. It occurs to him that he should respond but he can’t find the words. All the unspoken rules they had in place and Annabeth had just steamrolled right through them. Percy realizes his mistake in staying silent as Annabeth flushes and turns to leave.

“Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” And oh no Annabeth had just swallowed her pride (which he knows better than anyone is no easy feat) to say everything he’d wanted to hear and he can’t let her walk away.

“I miss you too.” The words tumble out of him, clunky and a little awkward but earnest. Annabeth stops and faces him, eyes suspicious in the way that breaks his heart a little bit.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Annabeth exhales and shoots him a tremulous smile he hasn’t seen in forever, and oh he’d forgotten what it did to his chest when she did. Before he does something stupid like tell her he thinks her smile is the best this he’s ever seen, he clears his throat.

“So…. this chasm you said, what do you propose we do about it?”

“24 hours. For 24 hours everything that I listed before is a non-issue. After that we can go back to…..whatever it is we’re doing now. One day, where we’re just two friends spending a day at camp together..”

“Best friends.” He corrects without thinking. She rolls her eyes, and he almost giggles because he’d missed her eyerolls too.

She holds out her hand to shake, all business-like and gods he missed her.

“Best friends. 24 hours.”

He takes her hand. Her shake is firm, her palms are warm, her eyes are bright, and she is beautiful.

“Where do we start?”

...

Apparently it starts with homework.

After he asked where they’d begin, Annabeth had flashed him a wicked grin, damn-near dragged him off the porch, and made a beeline to the Big House. Before last summer, Annabeth had been “tutoring” him. Once a week they’d head down to the Big House and spend hours combing through myths and legends, practicing Ancient Greek, and all things Demigod 101. It probably wasn’t ever that useful considering Percy barely remembered any of it, but Annabeth had always insisted. After last summer they’d non-verbally decided to take a break from it (eachother), and they’d never started back up.

Usually he’d halfheartedly complain that it was pointless and say some form of ‘I know enough to not die and that's good enough for me’ every five minutes, but today he nods dutifully along as Annabeth talks animatedly about Orpheus, and Theseus, and all the other -eus’s. He’ll ask a dumb question that they both know he knows the answer to, but she answers him anyway. He watches the wisps of hair that refused to be tied down, and counts the tiny sunspots across her nose and the way she wrinkles her eyebrow when she forgets a name.

It’s not terrible. It’s kinda the opposite. He’d forgotten that she made studying not terrible.

He’s so screwed.

...

The stables are almost empty when they get there.

After 2 hours of studying, (one hour of studying, one hour of laughing and talking and calling it studying) Annabeth declared it was his turn to pick the activity. Tired of sitting still Percy lands on tending to the pegasi. It was one of his favorite things about camp plus he got to teach Annabeth something for once. Annabeth was comfortable enough around them but she never spent anytime with them that she didn’t have to.

When they entered the barn, Blackjack gave him a look and he blushed remembering all the times he’d come to the stables with Beckendorph to vent about how much he missed Annabeth, (He didn’t even know horses could give looks but here we are) and silently told him it was a long story and to be cool. Annabeth had stopped next to one of the cleaning stations and was looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and they got to work. He showed her how to brush them and how to get tangles out of their manes, where to scritch them and where not to scratch them. He showed her how to check their feathers and make sure their wings were healthy and how to get them to be still enough to check.

Annabeth was excellent with them, gentle hands and kind eyes. Whenever she approached one she would look them in the eye and talk to them like the intelligent creatures they were. Each time she got started taking care of a new steed she’d gently reach for the muzzle and say in a soothing voice:

“Hi, my name is Annabeth and I'm going to groom you today. Don’t worry, I'm friends with Percy, and he taught me exactly how to take care of you. If I’m doing something wrong, let him know and he’ll tell me how to fix it. I promise I’ll do my best to make sure you feel like a brand new pegasus.”

Frankly, it was fucking adorable.

Pork-pie had taken a special liking to Annabeth, telepathically asking Percy if she could groom him more often. When he told this to Annabeth she’d beamed and enthusiastically agreed to come down whenever she could. Percy had off-handedly suggested that they take them out for a bit and Annabeth immediately started to release Pork-Pie from his stall.

They flew over camp for what could’ve been minutes or hours. He was lucky that Blackjack could fly himself because Percy couldn’t take his eyes off his flying partner. Her braids held firm, but a few rebellious curls were now whipping with the wind. The atmosphere combined with the speed they were flying, made her cheeks red and splotchy. Her smile is brighter than the sun, and eyes- gods her eyes were going to be the death of him. The sun and her mood (he had this theory that her eyes changed color based on her emotions) had made them almost blue, they are full of laughter, and Percy adores her. And when she directs her sunshine-smile at him, Percy can’t help but smile back.

(He doesn’t stop smiling until they land.)

...

As they're putting their pegusi back in their stalls, Blackjack decides to give him some advice.

“I know I don’t understand all of your fragile human emotions, but I know enough. There’s a lot of bad in this world of ours, and from what you’ve told me about this war business it's only gonna get worse. You gotta make the most of the good.”  He tilts his head over to Annabeth who is cooing at a preening Pork-Pie.

“You and ladyboss, you’re good together. And really nothing else matters.”

He doesn’t have time to even think about a response when Annabeth is walking over from Pork-Pie’s stall, and telling him it's time for a picnic.

...

(“What did Blackjack say to you? You looked kinda flustered when I got you.” Percy almost drops the plate he’s piling with food from the buffet. He’s gotten three pointedly confused looks at the sight of him and Annabeth together and not strangling each other and a thumbs-up from Grover. He and Annabeth are getting their food and then they’ll go sit by the beach.

“Oh,” He clears his throat and goes with the first thing he thinks of. “Blackjack calls you ladyboss.” Good that's good, not technically a lie either.

“Huh. Weird.” Annabeth, seemingly satisfied with this, returns her attention to the grapes she is adding to her plate.)

...

“Where do you go?” Annabeth asks. She’s sitting next to him in the sand brushing crumbs off her fingers. They had been eating and watching the ocean in comfortable silence and Percy furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Lots of days when you’re at camp for lunch and sometimes dinner you just disappear for hours. And I know you aren’t going home because your stuff is still in your cabin. Where do you go?”

It’s not an accusation, just a question. Percy gets the feeling she doesn’t want to know so she can disturb, she just worries. Percy knows her. He knows she’s always planning for the worst and she needs to be able to get to him if there's an emergency.

(It strikes him that she notices when he disappears and he feels guilty but also just a little hopeful. Because she misses him as much as he misses her.)

He stacks their plates and rests them on the blanket they’d been sharing. Percy stands up and holds out his hand, gesturing for Annabeth to do the same.

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

...

He tells her to close her eyes. She gives him a skeptical look but obliges and holds out her hands, a silent request for him to guide her. It’s almost easier to take her hands in his without those trademark eyes on him. But it’s not any less intense. As soon as their fingers interlock sparks of electricity lick up his arm. Now that her eyes are closed he can look at her face up close without fear. Her curls had gotten more unruly as the day went on, and the ringlets that framed her face blew lightly in the ocean breeze. He leads her slowly towards the ocean, using his powers to dry any spot she walks on. He sees her brows furrow when she notices how far they’ve walked towards the ocean without their feet getting wet, but she doesn’t say anything. He parts the water for her to walk through, and when the water rises above their heads, he forms an air bubble that moves with them, keeping them dry. When they get to a good spot, squeezes her hand signaling for her to stop with him, but tells her to keep her eyes closed. Then he closes his eyes with her and calls out to the ocean's creatures, making himself a beacon.

Here I am, he thinks. The son of Poseidon.

Come to me.

Minutes pass.

“You can open your eyes now.” He whispers.

She does, and lets out a soft gasp, “Oh, Percy.”

He smiles and looks out at the scene before them. He’d come down here after a particularly bad day and just wanted to sit in silence. It was an accident, calling the creatures to him. Subconsciously, he must have sent a message along that he was feeling alone. And all sorts of sea creatures - from greek monsters and to great white sharks to your average cod had flocked to him. And he didn’t feel so alone. So now, whenever he couldn’t take the human world, he’d come down here and talk to the fish.

This time he’d actually concentrated on getting a message out and they did not disappoint. He couldn’t count all the animals that had heeded his call but it was a sight to behold. He had willed some glowing coral from the deeper ocean to stay in that spot, which created a multicolored tint to everything around them.

Normally they come right up close to him, but this time they were hesitant. And as he listened to the creatures and heard more than a few whispers of Athena and stranger, he’s suddenly reminded that she’s the only person he’s ever done this with. It’s his favorite place, and she is the only other person ever to see it.

“It's okay guys, she’s a friend.” He reassures them. When he looked back at Annabeth, her mouth was still hung open and she was staring out at the scene in front of them in wonder. He smiles at her dazed silence and uses the hand he’s still holding to tug her up to the barrier of the bubble. The first creature willing to accept Annabeth is a baby spotted dolphin. He swims towards the clumsily with eager fins and pokes at the barrier with it’s snout. Annabeth's eyes widen in fear and look up at him and it takes a second to realize she isn’t afraid of the animal, but of their bubble popping.

“Don’t worry, the bubble won’t break unless I break it myself, and it’ll last however long I want it to.” He reassures her. He senses her hesitation so he guides her hand up to meet the snout of the baby dolphin who seems fascinated with Annabeth herself. He reaches his snout and head bumps directly into the spot on the bubble where her palm is placed.

Annabeth lets out a laugh, the kind of laugh that sort of bubbles out of you without warning and it’s the best thing Percy’s ever heard. He watches as the shock fades for her features and she pets the infant creature through the sheen of bubble keeping them dry. The animals begin to warm up to Annabeth as well, and as soon as they figure out she’s not some evil Athena agent sent to destroy the ocean, they join in on the fun. Hundreds of ocean creatures of all sizes begin doing tricks, nuzzling up to the flexible barrier, all vying for Annabeth’s attention. Annabeth herself is happy to oblige. Ever consistent, she introduces herself to each creature she meets. She smiles and laughs and reaches out to all the animals she can. Percy is happy simply to watch her and keep the bubble up but then she turns to him, eyebrow drawn together in concern, pointing to a particularly awnry seahorse, and asks what it's saying.

“He says his name is Frank and that he’s ‘too pregnant for this shit.’”

Annabeth stares blankly.

“His words not mine.” Percy offers hands up in surrender.

Then she snorts and then they’re laughing, they’re laughing harder than they have in years, and it's that kind of hysterical laugh where everything around them makes it more funny, and soon Percy’s clutching his stomach and Annabeth is beet red.  As soon as it subsides enough to get words out Annabeth is shaking his arm saying “Do that one! What's he saying? Oh my gods what even is that? Does that one like me? That ones majestic, what's his name? Oh Percy, look!! Look at that one!”

So he translates and they laugh and he teaches her different species and Annabeth nods along like it’s very important stuff. She pets the baby dolphin through the bubble and listens intently to all the animals telling her stories, even though she can’t understand a word until Percy tells her what they said. And when it’s time to go he sees the tears in her eyes and tells Percy to promise the baby that she’ll visit all the time, even though they both know she can’t.

(Apparently the baby dolphins name is Arnold, and according to his mother, he was so enthralled by Annabeth because when he first saw her he thought she was an angel.)

(Percy thinks he’s not too far off.)

...

(“That was incredible Percy. Thank you so much for sharing that with me.” They had been walking in silence as they made their way back to camp using the bubble, enjoying the afterglow of their adventure.

“Yeah, of course.” She smiles at him and looks ahead.

He’s not sure why he does it but without looking at her he reaches out and ever so carefully, and brushes her fingertips with his.

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t say anything.

Then suddenly, miraculously, her hand tilts and their fingers are interlocked.

And there's no pretense of guiding her somewhere, they’re just….holding hands.

And it's perfect.)

...

Percy thinks if he’s not in love with her, he’s pretty damn close.

Because this feeling, the one he gets in his chest when he looks at her, is what love feels like.  

...

When they resurface, they’re met with twinkling lights and the last three stragglers singing softly at the campfire. It’s almost time for lights out.

Oh.

Oh no.

Annabeth seems to be coming to the same realization, as she clears her throat and lets go of his hand. He misses her fingers immediately.

“So, I guess we should start heading to bed.” She looks at him, hopeful but he’s stuck. Stuck in the feeling of dread at the idea of waking up tomorrow and not having his best friend. Suddenly the idea of leaving her side is so unbearable he can’t speak.

“Goodnight, Percy.” She’s turning around and backing away when the words lodged in his throat come unstuck.

“8 in the morning.” She turns giving him a ‘what are you on about’ look.

“That when you came and got me at 8 in the morning. We agreed on 24 hours. It's only been 12.”

She smiles slow and wide, “You know you're right, that math checks out.”

“We had very clear terms. We even shook on it.”

“Yes we did.”, she nods gravely. “It’s a binding agreement, we can’t just ignore it.”

“So what do we do?”

She flashes a wicked grin. “You aren’t the only one with a secret spot.”

...

Percy arrives in the Big House 20 minutes after curfew was called, exactly as Annabeth had instructed. He felt her presence before she re-materialized in front of him and in a low conspiratorial whisper tells him to follow her.

They sneak down to the basement and Percy is confused when she keeps walking towards the corner. She lifts up a floorboard and starts climbing down a ladder. She beckons him to join her and when he makes it down the ladder, he can’t help the smile that breaks out. It’s a sort of underground attic, complete with a worn dusty couch, blankets and an old TV.

“I found it my first year at camp by accident. I was down doing chores and one of the broom strings got caught under it. I didn’t have many friends except for….” She lets him fill in the blank rather than say the name out loud. “And when he wanted to be with kids his own age, I’d come here. There's only five movies down here and I memorized them.” She looks down at her shoes. “I know it’s not the sea floor but..”

“Are you kidding? It’s awesome. What are the movies?”

They dig around and end up finding two more that apparently seven-year-old Annabeth did not think worth the time. They watch Die Hard first, (“Oh my Gods I can't believe you haven’t watched Die Hard. This is a travesty. It’s a classic Annabeth.”) then Pulp Fiction, ("I can’t believe it, all the shit you gave me for not seeing Die Hard, and you haven’t Pulp Fiction?? You absolute heathen!") and Clueless. ("What? It has to be full of violence and toxic masculinity to be good? It’s a good movie Percy, shut-up.") Before he knows it, it’s 3:54 am shaking with hysterical silent laugher at Annabeth's impression of Dionysus.

“Oh my gods oh-OH! Do you know what we’ve got to do?”

“Uh-oh, what?”

She grins impishly and a little deliriously. “We’ve gotta go to our spot.”

“Ah, of course. Yes, our spot, totally.” He says in a voice he hopes is neutral, in an effort to gage if she’s serious.  

“Oh my gods.” She gasps, offended.

“What.”  

“I can’t believe this.”

“You can’t believe what?”

“You forgot our spot.”

“I’m sorry Annabeth, until four seconds ago I wasn’t aware we had a spot.”

“Oh my gods. I can not believe this-” He can tell she’s messing with him, and not actually mad.

“Annabeth, just tell me where it is.”

“I simply can not believe this, you absolute heathen-”

“Stop calling me a heathen, and tell me where it is.”

She smiles, “I can show you.”

...

“Oh, of course! This is our spot!”

Annabeth chuckles, “I told you.” They’re standing at the edge of the forest at the tallest of the rock clusters to the far left. It's the one they used to go to after their first quest, the place where Annabeth taught him the constellations. The place where he made his first real friend. Not people he hung out with to avoid getting picked on. Not a searcher who happened to like the demigod he found.  His first real best-friend.

They climbed up easily and lay down looking straight up at the sky. Annabeth points up at the floating memorials, and Percy dutifully recites the legends of how they earned their place in the sky. They're shoulder to shoulder and their fingers graze each other for longer than necessary. And slowly they lull into comfortable silence, arms overlapping, at some point Annabeth's head lands on his shoulder. Percy freezes for a while, staying absolutely still as if she’s a wild creature who could bolt at any moment. But then he relaxes, and she relaxes and he’s pretty sure she’s asleep until she takes in a shaky breath and whispers, “Hey, Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna be okay right?” He can tell she's trying to mask the vulnerability in her voice. And he can’t see all of her face from the angle they’re laying, but her nose is on his collarbone, and her hair is tickling his chin.

He closes his eyes, and he thinks. He thinks about Luke and Rachel and how nothings been the same since Percy blew up that mountain.

He thinks about seeing her for the first time, grey eyes wide hair falling off her shoulders and how even after everything he just went through, he felt safe. He thinks about ‘you drool when you sleep’, and the way she looked at him when he was claimed- awestruck and pitiful at the same time. He thinks about rolled eyes, stamped feet, and frustration always just under the surface. He thinks about silent truces, and letting guards down, and shared oreos in the back of a mobile zoo. He thinks about sweaty palms gripping each other in the Underworld, and shaky hands giving him a good luck camp necklace. He thinks about camp fires, stupid jokes, learning about the stars, and how the just fit.

He thinks about postcards and iris-messages, and how she punched Matt Sloane square on the nose. He thinks about how despite the arguing and the confusion about Tyson, she was always there when she needed him. How she didn’t hesitate to sneak out of camp with one of the first species he ever learned to truly fear, because he asked her to. He thinks about her in a dress and how tongue-tied him in guinea pig form. He thinks about her broken sobs and how she clutched at him in their underwater bubble. He thinks about winning a chariot race, the softest of cheek kisses and how in this world of gods and monsters, she’s the only thing he was really sure about.

He thinks about how she was the first girl he ever danced with, and how light everything felt when she was around. He thinks about how it felt strangely familiar when she fell off that cliff, and how only days later realized that it was the same desperation he had when Hades took his mother. He thinks about how gutted it was when he found out she was thinking about joining the Hunters. He thinks about his visit from Aphrodite and how even though she changed form, her hair smelled like lemons the entire time. He thinks about when he saw her on that cliff it was like the sun came out. How he saw her face and it was smudged with dirt and cuts but she was alive and he could breathe again. He thinks about how his throat closed up when he thought Artemis was going to pick her for the Hunt. He remembers how when they danced on Olympus, for a song she was prettier than Aphrodite.

He thinks about planning a movie date, and how he discovered Annabeth doesn’t get any less pretty when she’s mad at him. How she sat right next to him at dinner and how when she fixed his armour, his neck burned wherever she touched him. He thinks about falling in a whole and holding her hand and how they’d done it before but it felt different that time. He thinks about ping pong table meetings and how he became aware of the fact that he’d follow her anywhere. He thinks about the determination in her when she faced the Sphinx, and how the same fire was in them right before she kissed him. He thinks about how she tasted like smoke and salt, and how for the 3.2 seconds that his lips were hers, the first thing he thought was ‘we fit like this too’. He thought he was going to die but it was okay. It was okay that he was going to die, because he had gotten to kiss her. He thinks about Calypso’s Island, and how he dreamt about her every night. How when he crashed his funeral, she held like she couldn’t bear to let go and how that was fine with him. He thinks about the blur that was the labyrinth, full of unshed tears, words that cut, and how despite all the scream fights and the terror, and the barely contained rage, none of it lessened the fierce protectiveness he feels for her. How despite it all, she's still the best thing that's ever fucking happened to him. He thinks about the last line of her prophecy, and how she thought it was about him.

He loves her.

He’s not sure if he’s in love with her because he’s 15 and he hasn’t exactly had time to date around but he knows that for a fact. Knowing Annabeth, loving Annabeth has made him who he is. She is burned into his DNA. Somehow the 12 year old with princess curls and eyes that cut, crawled under his skin. He knows he’s done the same to her, even though they’re both too stubborn to say it out loud. They could never really leave each other, even if they tried.

So Percy shifts so he can see her face in the pale moonlight, brushes a curl out of her face and says,

“Yeah. It’s us Annabeth. We’re gonna be alright.”

She smiles soft and real because she knows him, so she knows he means it. He’s not sure who reaches out this time, but they're holding hands and staring at the sky in a silence that speaks volumes.

They stay like that until it’s sunrise and they have to sneak into their respective cabins. Looking at stars, fighting sleep, and forgetting about the rest of the world.

______________

(They hold hands all the way back to her cabin.)

(He doesn’t stop smiling the whole way back to his own.)

______________

if your still here hi! thank you for reading. send in prompts from this list, or any sentence starter you want to read. ask box is open for those and if you just wanna say hi :)

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Anidala Week Day 2: Canon Divergence

(Canon Divergence is pretty much all I do. So here’s a thing loosely set in the universe I play around in anyway. :) )

To save the Republic(’s approval ratings), Anakin and Padme have to get married. 

Again.

“I’m not saying you have to.” 

Padme lifts an unimpressed eyebrow at her friend, crossing her arms. “But you’re saying we should.” 

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Bail shrugs. As head of the Chancellatory committee, he’s had a lot of work to do, and not much of it makes him popular with anyone. “You can’t argue that there’s been a lot of distrust between the people and the Jedi Order...and the Senate and the Jedi Order...and the Jedi Order and the Jedi Order. It would make them seem like they could be normal people.” 

“They’re not normal people,” Padme points out, taking a seat in Bail’s office. It feels strange to be able to move around again without feeling like there are two bowling balls in her stomach. Though she misses her babies terribly when she’s not with them at home, she’s glad for the freedom that not being pregnant gives her. “They’re Jedi. That’s always been the point.” 

“A point that isn’t working anymore,” Bail tells her. “Obi-Wan being on the committee is a good start for repairing relations between the Jedi and the Senate, but a public display would make a bigger impression on the people of the Republic.” 

“Bail, Anakin and I are already married,” Padme argues. “We’ve been married for years, and now we’re parents, and Anakin is still recovering from that fight with Palpetine. Between those things and my work, we don’t have the time.” 

“So hire a wedding planner,” Bail shrugs. “Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from being married to the Queen of Alderaan, it’s that sometimes you do stupid, ridiculous things to make your people happy.” 

“And you think that the stupid, ridiculous thing that I should do is have a very large, very expensive, very public wedding to the man I’m already married to, to show the people of the Republic that we’re all playing nice together,” Padme surmises. 

“Exactly.” Bail sighs softly. “You’ve already had the intimate wedding you wanted to have.” 

Padme huffs to herself. It hadn’t quite been what she’d always dreamed of, but…

“And the Senate and Jedi approval ratings are quite literally circling the drain,” Bail goes on. “If we’re not careful, all of us will lose our upcoming elections, which means that all the work we’ve done here so far has the potential to be completely undone. And a vote to remove the Jedi from government oversight wouldn’t be far behind, which means they would lose government support and funding. We have to at least try to give the people some sort of hope. Some sort of positive display that will restore their faith in the idea that we can all work together to clean up this terrible mess. And yes, a wedding is hokey. It’s obvious, it’s clearly a ploy. But it will be a popular ploy. Anakin is the most successful Jedi General of the Clone Wars; he rooted out the Sith Lord in our midst, and you are one of the most popular Senators among us. The people adore you. This is a PR goldmine.” 

“It’s my life,” Padme reminds him. “One that, up until a month ago, was very private.” 

“Well, you’re our only choice,” Bail says, sympathetically. “I’d ask Obi-Wan, but Jinn is already a year old, and no one likes Satine. Hell, they don’t even like Obi-Wan anymore, now that he’s on the committee instead of leading an army.” 

“Not that he cares, which he shouldn’t,” Padme mutters. “He’s here to advise us. Not win popularity contests.” 

“We work in politics, remember? It’s all a popularity contest.” 

Padme sighs heavily. “So. I’m getting married. Again.” 

Bail smiles at her. “Congratulations.” 

***** 

Anakin is visibly confused when she gets home that night. “What was wrong with our wedding?” 

“Nothing,” Padme tells him quickly, taking his hands. “Our wedding was wonderful and beautiful. I got to wear my dream dress and you were so handsome, and sweet, and it was just for us. But…” 

Anakin waits for her, still frowning. “But?” 

“But...this...isn’t about us,” Padme goes on. “This is about restoring the faith of the people of the Republic. Of showing them that there is unity between the Senate and the Jedi.” 

“There isn’t,” Anakin points out. “In fact, all there has been is finger pointing over who missed what sign that things were terrible. Mace got angry. I’ve never seen Mace angry. I thought he was going to slice off the heads of the entire committee. Including Obi-Wan.” 

“Well, that was a bad day at work.” 

“Angel, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they’ve all been bad days at work.” 

“Which is why we need to do this.” 

Anakin sighs softly. “So you want us to get married again. In front of the entire galaxy.” 

“It’ll be fun,” Padme insists. “We’ll get dressed up, we’ll eat cake...and we only got one night of a honeymoon, maybe we could take longer this time.” 

“Between twin infants and your work schedule?” 

“Why are you making this difficult?” Padme asks, starting to lose her patience. 

Anakin pauses for a moment before speaking up. “Because our wedding, however small...however brief, was special to me. It was the most important day of my life, right along with the day the kids were born. I don’t need or want a do-over.”

Her heart melts as she sees the sincerity in his eyes. “Oh, Ani.” 

He takes a breath and grins sheepishly. “Alright. Okay. If us re-getting-married is going to be the thing that unites everyone and brings peace to the galaxy, who am I to argue?” A rush of relief washes over her as she throws her arms around him. “Thank you. I promise I will make this as painless as possible.” ***** It is not painless. It is weeks of planning. Robe and gown fittings. Of tastings and flower arrangements and guest lists. “Well, the Council has agreed to come.” Anakin blinks owlishly. Padme sighs, a touch exasperated. “Ani, the entire point of this is to show unity between the Jedi and the Senate. I spoke with the Council last week, and they’ve agreed that they, along with other key members of the order will be there.” Anakin shakes his head as he changes Luke’s diaper, playing with his son’s feet absently. “Whatever you say, Angel.” “I know your relationship with them is a little strained…” “Yes.” Padme deflates a little, knowing that it’s taken a long time for Anakin to heal from his fight with Sidious, and that the Council nearly threw him out of the order anyway, for his marriage and children. “I should have spoken to you about this first. I thought you knew.” “It’s fine,” Anakin tells her. He takes a deep breath and turns to her. “After all, this isn't for us. This is for the Galaxy, right?” She nods, pursing her lips, and staying quiet. “And as long as I get to have Rex and the 501st there, it’s fine,” he says. It’s Padme’s turn to blink owlishly. “...Oh.” Anakin narrows his eyes. “You did invite my men to our wedding, didn’t you?” “I...may have...forgotten?” Before he can get truly upset, she holds up her hands. “I will fix this, right away, I promise, Anakin.” As she rushes out the door, she hears him call back “Invite the 212th, too!” Padme closes her eyes and takes a deep, cleansing breath. Between her work schedule, and this wedding planning, and trying to fit in Anakin and their children, her life has been a mess. Her husband has been a complete saint through most of this, taking care of the children, and putting quite a few of his Jedi responsibilities on hold, it’s hard to be mad at him when he acts like a bantha brain. But she will be completely glad when this is all over. ***** The day arrives without much fanfare. Since the ceremony is at night, (Mace Windu had been adamant about “On the steps of the Temple. The Senate needs to show it’s willing to actually meet the Jedi halfway, since we’re always coming to you.”), they have time for a quiet morning together. Padme feeds the twins as Anakin makes them breakfast, and she sighs contentedly as she listens to the nuna bacon fry under Anakin’s soft humming. “I want this forever,” she says wistfully, as she cuddles Leia. Anakin turns to her, cracking a grin. “Good thing we’re already married.” ***** It goes by much quicker than Padme had thought it would. Jar Jar performs the ceremony, which is strange, but it feels fitting, since he was there when they first met as children, and before they know it, he’s saying “I’sa now pronouncin’ you, husband and wife! Kiss her, Ani!” And Anakin does, tugging her close and kissing her eagerly, as if he’s been waiting to do this in front of the Senate and the Council and the Galaxy for years. He probably has, Padme thinks as she wraps her around around his neck, smiling against his lips. ***** The reception is enormous, and loud, and busy, and Padme is being pulled in all different directions, to be congratulated and kissed on the cheek and hugged, and the longer the party goes on, the drunker everyone seems to get. She knows she should be having a good time, but mostly, she wishes that she could have gone with Dorme and the twins back to their apartment. She would love to get out of this tight gown and rock her babies to sleep and then get a little work down before curling up with Anakin in bed. Padme supposes that she can do that tomorrow night. It takes her a while to find Anakin. They keep getting separated in all of the chaotic revelry, but she eventually finds him at a corner table with Rex, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Satine and Cody, watching all the party while nursing a drink. He beams at her when he sees her and when she gets close enough, he takes her hand and gently pulls her down onto his lap. “There you are.” Padme wraps her arms around his neck and instantly relaxes, surrounded by the people she knows well, a port in a storm. “I was busy making the rounds. Which you should be doing.” “Eh. Everybody knows where I am,” he shrugs, grinning at her. “Besides, nobody cares about the groom at a wedding. It’s all about the bride.” “I’d say congratulations, but since you’ve been married for years, it feels a bit silly,” Satine teases. “You said it,” Ahsoka pipes up. “I should have been in on that particular secret, by the way.” “No one was in on it,” Obi-Wan grouses. ‘Not even I knew.” “Er,” Rex says awkwardly. “Rex knew?!” Ahsoka cries. “Rex knew and I didn’t?!” “He didn’t know we were married,” Anakin snaps. “Just that we were together. And...talking regularly over holo comm during the war. That’s all.” “That’s all,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “How are you any better?” Anakin asks, bewildered. “Jinn is a year older than the twins. I had no idea you and Satine were still seeing each other. You hid your baby from me, Ahsoka, and the Council for an entire year.” “We were at war!” “Hey, no fighting,” Ahsoka cuts in. “We don’t fight at weddings.” “We were already married,” Anakin points out. “And our first wedding was better.” Padme smiles and kisses Anakin’s temple. ***** When they finally make it home, it’s incredibly late. Anakin goes to check on the twins, who are fast asleep, and Padme closes the door to the guest room that Dorme is sleeping in, so as not to disturb her. She sighs softly and turns to Anakin, taking his hands. “Thank you, Ani. I know this wasn’t really what you wanted. But I appreciate that you went through with it.” “Well, now that it’s over, we can get back to some semblance of normalcy,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “Maybe we could take the twins to the park tomorrow.” She smiles and closes her eyes, pulling him close. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

If These Walls Could Talk (Girls Talk Boys Part 34)

Some things are meant to be secret and not to be heard So if I tell you, just keep it and don't say a word Yeah, when the doors are all closing, it's bound to get loud 'Cause all these bodies are hoping to get addicted to sound

If these walls could talk, I'd hope they wouldn't say anything Because they've seen way too many things 'Cause we'd fall from grace, we're falling

New to this series click HERE

Camille and hurried down to the security gate with Luke in tow, as she'd insisted Calum stay behind. 

"Babe, I promise he won't hurt me, but we're probably going to argue and you get so protective," Camille insisted.

"That's not a bad thing," Calum protested but he could tell Camille had made up her mind and she could be incredibly stubborn when that happened. 

"Fine," he sighed, "Can you at least take Luke?"

Camille spotted Benji sitting on a bench outside the security gate, and everything about him repulsed her. Not that he was ugly or gross. He was average height and a bit pudgy with a tan complexion that was a bit darker than Calum, jet black hair and light brown eyes. He was a preening peacock, full of himself and always impeccably  well dressed and groomed. Even Camille had to admit he was decent looking. 

Just then he caught sight of her and scowled before catching himself and plastered a huge fake smile across his face.

"Camille, sweetheart, it's been too long since I've seen you," Benji called out. 

"What are you doing here?" Camille tried to sound light and friendly to keep the situation calm.

"I've come to find my wife," he smirked. "She disappeared almost a year ago and then suddenly she sends me papers that I'm just supposed to sign without even talking to her?" 

"So you drive across the country for a chat?" Camille wasn't buying that at all 

"I didn't come all this way to talk to you," Benji's tone turned condescending. "I want to talk to my wife or I don't sign the divorce papers. I can wait here all day."

"Okay, okay," Camille tried not to sound as annoyed as she felt. "Cher isn't even home right now and I don't know when she's coming home today."

"Text her, I can wait," Benji's smile was slipping. He didn't like Camille anymore than she did him.

"We both know Cher is terrible about checking her messages. She might not respond for hours, and then you're just hanging out in guest parking? No, no, no, besides she reacts poorly to surprises. Let me talk to her and she'll contact you," Camille was pleading with him now. She knew Cher and Ashton could drive up at any moment, and that she would freak out if she saw Benjamin. 

"You're not wrong, but I don't trust you two. After all, you ran away from your problems just like she did. You left Shaun stuck with the lease and all the bills. He's doing better now, by the way. He's with Melanie now, which I think is a huge upgrade, no offense," Benji was trying to goad Camille into losing her temper. 

Camille felt a surge of rage the mention of her ex boyfriend's name, the man who had done so much to tear down her self esteem. Melanie was one of the girls he'd cheated on her with, and Shaun had always blamed Camille for his infidelities. Comparing her to other women, criticizing everything about her, but Camille stopped herself. None of that mattered right now. Shaun couldn't hurt her anymore and she knew she'd upgraded more than her ex ever could. Camille smiled thinking about Calum before returning her attention to Benji. 

"You can't just wait here," Camille was serious.

"I'm not leaving until I see Cher," so was Benji.

"How about a compromise?" Luke had come up behind her startling Camille when he spoke.

"Who are you?" Benji was polite but guarded.

"My name is Luke," he gave Benji a friendly smile but stood up very straight. Camille almost giggled as the boots caused Luke to tower over the other man. "We're having our annual open house and neighborhood picnic tomorrow. Why don't you come by, Dale will let you in and you can come have a drink and we'll sort this out." 

Benji saw the incredulous look Camille gave Luke and nodded walking over to where Dale was waving a clipboard with a list at him. Luke ignored Camille's glare and the elbow she poked into his ribs. Luke could tell these two weren't going to come to an agreement, and Luke didn't want to stand here all day. Besides anything that would postpone a huge argument was fine by him. They needed to form a plan and both Camille and Cher had to answer some questions if they were going to work together to solve this. Luke watched Benji walk past Camille smug in the idea he'd gotten one over on her. 

Camille opened her mouth to say something and Luke squeezed her shoulder and shook his head mouthing, "let it go."

When Benji drove out of sight Camille spun on him, "what the hell Hemmings?" 

"Ashton is on his way home and unless you want them to drive up and everything goes to shit I had to get rid of him," Luke's face was serious. 

"You could've run it by me first," Camille grumbled. 

"That guy is an asshole. He wasn't going to agree to anything you wanted," Luke rolled his eyes. "So I some questions," he put his hands on his hips shaking his head, but Camille saw a tiny smile.

"Let's head back Peanut," Camille linked arms him. "I'll explain it all at once." 

Camille called Cody and he came over barely beating Cher and Ashton by fifteen minutes and Camille texted Cher. 

Just so you know Luke and Cody are here

That was a standard warning as there was no telling what those two were getting up to and both Camille and Cher had accidentally caught the other having sex.

Cher pulled her underwear back up before getting out of the car. She knew something was up the second she walked in the door. The room was vibrating with tension and everyone was staring at her. 

"What's going on?" Cher looked at Camille getting scared at how nervous she looked.

Camille stuttered and stammered unable to properly form words all of a sudden.

Calum walked up and handed her a shot of whiskey, "Benji showed up, he'll be here tomorrow." 

Cher grabbed the shot, downed it, and nodded at Cal. "Good man," she nodded him. "Okay so what the fuck?" 

"Who's Benji?" Ashton asked, completely confused.

Cher looked at Camille in a panic, "I can't do this right now. I'm not ready, I can't..." She started hyperventilating.

"Okay okay Cody," Cam jerked her head towards the stairs. "You take care of our girl and I'll explain what's going on to the guys." 

Cody nodded and grabbed the bottle Calum held out and headed up the stairs with his arm wrapped around Cher's shoulders. 

Camille found herself facing Luke, Calum, and Ashton all waiting for answers. 

Luke handed her a glass of wine and Camille say in her chair. Calum took his seat on the arm of her chair with the other two on the couch.

"Is Benji her ex husband?" Ashton guessed.

"Not exactly ex yet," Camille replied.

"She's not divorced yet?" Calum asked.

"No..."

"She just sent him divorce papers. That's why he's here," Luke cut in, piecing together all the bits he'd heard from Camille's earlier confrontation 

"Yeah it seems like," Camille took another sip.

"This whole time she's been married," Ashton shook his head.

"Separated," Camille tried to do damage control.

Ashton sank back into the couch, lost in thought.

"So what's the big deal," Calum asked. "This guy must be a real asshole." 

"That's obvious, but you know Cher hates being surprised. Especially shit like this," Luke told Calum.

"Is this why she's so weird about relationships?" Calum asked.

"Part of it, Cher never intended to get married, ever, but then Benji talked her into it at a time when she'd really hit rock bottom."

"Talked her into it?" Luke asked. "So she wasn't in love with him."

"Oh GOD no," Camille exclaimed as she got up and began pacing back and forth. "They worked together, well actually we all did, and Benji was here on a student visa. When he dropped out of school to become a sales rep for one of our vendors, his visa got fucked up, and he was facing the threat of getting sent back. Cher was in a really bad place at the time. She was dating this guy Xavier and it wasn't serious at all. However one night he got fucked up, on what? no one is exactly sure, but he broke into her apartment and fucking TRASHED the place. He punched holes in the drywall, kicked the bathtub faucet out, threw every bit of food out of the refrigerator and cabinets and into the living room before grinding it into the carpet. It was a disaster, when we walked in after it was over the first thing I smelled was the maple syrup he poured onto the couch, followed quickly by the smell of blood from the family size pack of ground beef he'd slung everywhere. There were even chunks of hamburger clinging to the popcorn ceiling. Eggs, sugar, cooking oil, shrimp fried rice, it was disgusting," Camille shuddered and Calum started to get up but she shook her head and kept going. "Cher was at work when this was all happening. She had no idea anything was going on until the police show up at her job because Xavier had been arrested after crashing her car. Apparently he found her spare set of keys in her apartment and no one noticed the sketchy little shit in the parking lot."

Camille finished her wine and Luke refilled her glass while she nervously fixed her ponytail.  Calum was now in Camille's chair leaning forward, listening intently. Luke hung on every word while Ashton sat with his head in his hands trying to take it all in. 

"So where does the getting married part come in," Luke prodded her to keep going.

Camille sighed, "Benji straight up offered marriage as a business proposal. If she'd marry him to help him stay in the country he would pay the cleaning bill her landlord stuck on her, buy her a new used car, and get her back on her feet. It was supposed to be just friends conducting a business transaction." 

Ashton leaned back and looked up at Camille and she noticed he looked less angry than before. 

She took a deep breath and continued, "the first few months were fine. They got along, went out to dinner once a week, and eventually they hooked up. Turns out that was a big mistake, he has a mediocre dick, and this is when he started acting weird. Suddenly he's acting like they are married for real and starts trying to tell her who she can't talk to, and trying to cut off all contact with all of her male friends, most of them are industry guys and her contact is work related, so instantly she was pissed. They start arguing more and more, he's trying to use his money against her but what he doesn't know is she's starting to make money off of Vexxed. However, Cher is not a self absorbed materialistic little fuckwit like he is. So his posturing about all the shit he could buy her, didn't impress her at all.   That was when he was sober, drunk Benji is a mean little cunt." 

Calum watched her get more and more outraged, more worked up and as much as he felt bad for Cher the moment he couldn't help but think Camille was so fucking sexy right now.

"He started calling Cher when he was drunk, starts talking crap  why was she even talking to these guys who didn't have money like him. He called her a whore, a slut, white trash, and said she was too ignorant to appreciate how great he was and basically being an insufferable arrogant abusive asshole. He and Shaun, my ex, teamed up trying to keep Cher and I from getting to talk or see each other. Our boss kept scheduling us together on the weekends and between the three of us we came up with a plan. I slowly got my stuff out of his house, Cher packed up her belongings under the pretense of her lease being terminated and our boss stored some things of ours in a storage unit. Finally, Benji had a work visa, and my aunt helped me buy this place. I picked a fight with Shaun knowing he'd pack up all my shit and tell me to leave, and so we did."

"Damn that's crazy," Calum shook his head taking it all in. "Okay, I have questions."

Ashton stood up abruptly and they all looked at him. He rubbed his temples and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Please just tell me what we need to do to get rid of this asshole. Why is he even here? How did he find you?" he asked.

"She's got a licensing deal in the works that will set her up quite nicely, Cher doesn't want Benji to have any claim to anything Vexxed including that money and the new characters she's going to copyright. California is a community property state, he could technically get half. Not only that she promised him a year and it's been longer than that. It's time for a divorce, he needs to sign those papers." Calum pulled Camille into his lap as she sat down 

"Can she get a divorce if he doesn't?" Camille could see the wheels turning in Ashton's head.

"The lawyer says it will take a bit longer, especially if he counter sues," she replied.

"So everybody just needs to play nice tomorrow?" Luke got up, stretching his long legs while he looked down at Camille.

"Try and keep him distracted and hopefully we won't drink too much. I'm gonna give Cher a Valium and see if I can keep her from losing it." 

Cher was hitting her vape pen when Camille stuck her head in the door to tell her it was showtime. Cody had convinced her to talk to Benji so maybe they could get this over with. Everybody was being so supportive and positive Cher didn't feel like she could back out, but deep down she knew this man was just here to start shit. 

She'd passed out on Camille's bed somewhere after shot number seven. She'd woken up before dawn and taken a quick shower before sneaking over to Ashton's and waking him up with a blowjob. As nervous as Cher was she couldn't help but smile at the lingering soreness of her ass. She'd been sassy and Daddy had to punish her. 

Following Camille out towards the pool she spotted Cal talking to Harry and Benji so she headed to the other side to grab a beer. Luke saw her coming and fished one out of the cooler for her. He was talking to Tom and Lucy, filling them it on the divorce drama. Lucy gave Cher a big hug and smacked Camille on the ass the way she always did. That got the guys attention and Benji spotted Cher. He made his way over to their little group flanked by Calum and Harry.

"My sweet wife, I'm so glad to see you're looking healthy," Benji's smile did not reach his eyes and everyone could feel the tension.

Cher glanced at his tummy pudge, "I'm glad you're in good health as well. I'm surprised you traveled all this way just to chat with me." Her voice sounded strange in her own ears. 

"Couldn't just sign away what we had without discussing it first," Benji's tone of voice was giving her the creeps. Cher saw him glance behind her and his eyes almost popped out of his head. A couple of Lucy's friends had arrived and were peeling off their cover-ups to cool off in the pool.

He turned to Calum, "you have girls that look like that around here? You are a lucky man. I bet you get an eyeful all the time," he turned back to Cher "must be hard living here around some really hot girls." 

Harry intervened before it got any worse, he threw an arm around Benji's shoulder leaning in with a laugh, "oh, you wanna talk hot girls lemme tell you about this redhead I met in Belgium," as he led him away. 

Calum looked disgusted as Cher handed him a drink, "dude fuck that guy, what a prick." 

Luke looked at Camille, "wanna take bets on who hits him first?"

@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @wildhearthood @cal-pal-cuddles @rosettesofhappiness @5sos-ficssmut @unabashedlymyself

[all-my-novels]

BLOODY SUNDAY: Chapter 2

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@steakfryday @deepestbelieverstranger @slowreaderslowerwriter @poetinprose @dreamywritingdragon @siarven @zwergenmaedchen @seraphfilth @punny-alien @heavenlybattles @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad @bonewrites

Chapter Two: Devil in the Church

The following Sunday service began at the usual 9:15. Jethro woke up well before that time, groomed his fur and made sure everything was in place. He sat on the sink in one of the men’s bathrooms of the general store’s staff water closet carefully as he got cleaned up. Church was an important part of his life. He always wanted -- no, needed to look his best for every service. If he was going to be in the presence of God, he was damn well going to be well-groomed.

Jumping down from the creamy ceramic surface, Jethro padded out of the bathroom and into the dimly-lit store. Many of the stores in the small town chose to remain closed during the day of rest.  The general store would open after church, when the sun reached the highest point in the sky. Clearing his thoughts with the shake of a head, Jethro sneezed and made his way toward the cat flap. Giving way to the pressure of his forehead, the plastic door creaked. He stilled at the sound of a voice.

"Hey Jethro, wait up."

Channary’s tail stuck straight up as she came from behind the service counter, bumping heads with her brother. A surprised meow sprang from his throat before his eyes lit up in recognition. Channary rarely came to church with him and when she did, it was never of her own doing. She even cringed during special occasions, when the entire town pressured her into making an appearance. Since she was up at such an early hour, it could only mean she planned on attending morning service with him.

"Coming with me today , little lady?" Jethro purred. His cheeky sister snorted in response.

"Oh, Jethro, we both know I'm no lady." She brushed past him, tail higher in the air. "Something compelled me last night to go to church this morning, so I’ve decided not to ignore it. Daisy's real big into following what your gut tells you -- it's apparently a witch thing."

"Well, whatever urged you to come with me must be a good thing." Jethro said,pushing his way through the cat flap and into the brisk morning air.

Fog loomed above the ground of the quaint seaside town. It rolled in off of the water and coated Newsworth in a thick, almost suffocating cloud. It did not bother the cats because they weren’t required to drive around in it. Cats could easily go anywhere get where they needed to on paw. The only time fog posed a bit of trouble was for the hunting feline, but nothing too serious. If Jethro needed to work a case, the dense, opaque mist could interrupt a crime scene. Sometimes it could get rid of important evidence like the scent of a killer. It would not pose a problem for a mundane task such as walking to church.

A perk of living in a small town was being in close proximity to most of the places they needed to get to. The church was less than half a mile from the general store. Jethro and Channary made their way across the short distance in no time. It did not appear as though any other cats had arrived yet. The Holy Church of Cats held service in close proximity to the human church in a small clearing, but it was shrouded in fog. Jethro figured they had roughly thirty minutes before the reverend and fellow church members showed up to start the lecture.

"Do you want to go inside the human church and see if we can catch any mice?" He asked, turning to Channary. His little sister nodded in excitement and the tip of her tail quivered. The two cats retraced their steps back to the front of the human church.

Jethro’s dark nose twitched.  His thin, white whiskers flicked when he cautiously put a paw on the front step. The all-too familiar scent of fear, pain and suffering met his nose. A cat's coppery blood intertwined with the distinct scent of death. He froze and the fur along his muscled shoulders started to rise. Channary stilled beside him, tilted her head and leaned in towards her brother. Curiosity etched into her delicate features.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Can't you smell it?" Jethro's ears pressed against his skull in distress. His tail stayed low to the ground and lashed back and forth as he faced his sister. "That's cat's blood... something's not right."

"I can barely see or smell anything over this stupid fog," Channary complained, lifting her head and opening her mouth in an attempt to catch the elusive scent. "You should go check it out if you want. I'll stay down here but call me if you get into any trouble, okay?" Her tone was light, but her eyes glistened with worry.

Jethro did not have to be told twice. Bounding up the stairs, he stopped right in front of the heavy wooden doors marking the entrance of the church. The closer he got to the source of the smell, the easier it became to see who the blood belonged too.

Stretched out on the cement was a large, black tomcat with green eyes, opened wide with terror, claws outstretched. The blood that insulted Jethro’s sense of smell came from a shredded gash in the deceased cat’s throat. Based on the expertly shredded incision point, there was no doubt in his mind that an experienced killer did the job. The fairly clean site puzzled him. Jethro assumed the crime scene would be a bloody mess, what with the distinct scent of blood poisoning the air. A slaying of this type should have left a lot of blood.

The poor tom’s mouth was twisted in a snarl, evidence he likely went down fighting. Between his claws were tufts of black fur, and Jethro suspected it belonged to the perpetrator. The tabby leaned over, sniffing at the dead cat's mouth to see if he'd bitten his killer and gotten more of his scent. No such luck. He either hadn't bitten his attacker or the fog got rid of what little scent may have originally been there.

"Channary," Jethro called from the top of the steps. "We've got a middle-aged dead tom up here. Solid black and the throat's shredded."

"Want me to get the chief?" Channary asked. Jethro could barely see the silhouetted outline of her body against the fog.

"Help me move him, first," Jethro replied. "We need to get his body out of sight before the humans get here before some good Samaritan takes it upon himself to bury the body."

Channary bounded up the steps behind him. Jethro leaned over and grabbed the tom's scruff. He kept careful watch  of his paws to make sure he didn’t disturb any evidence as he moved the body. Channary helped support the bottom half of the tom's body.  With expert practice, the siblings moved in a series of coordinated steps, while they carried the deceased to some nearby bushes. The low branches would conceal the corpse from prying human eyes, until the medical examiner could retrieve evidence from the body. It was a shame they couldn’t preserve evidence at the scene of the crime but they had to work with what they had.

"I'll stay with the body, you go get the chief," Jethro told her. "I'm going to warn the reverend and everyone else. We should probably hold the service somewhere else this morning or hold it off for now. The smell of death is terrible around here." He still hadn't dropped his hackles. It felt as if danger was all around him, lingering like an oppressive cloud.

"Are you sure? You look pretty strung up," Channary chimed in cautiously.

"Just go-” Jethro said with narrowed his eyes. “-you're faster than me and I need to be here to warn everyone. What if the killer comes back, Chan?"

A lifetime of working carved well-defined muscles into Jethro. It would take a lot to bring him down. If he did have to fight, it would definitely draw a lot of attention from outside sources. The knowledge did not make him feel any safer. His whiskers continued to tremble with shock after coming across a body left in such a holy place.

As Channary disappeared into the fog, Jethro lowered his head to inspect the body further. He wanted to figure out who the mystery tom was before him. There was something oddly familiar about the dead cat but Jethro couldn’t put a name to the cat until he crouched down at eye level.  Alarm filled him and familiarity struck him hard.

"Tom-Tom!" He cried aloud.

No wonder he'd somewhat recognized the victim. A distinguished member of the church, Tom-Tom had been an attending member since he was a kitten. Jethro saw him sing in the choir along with a handful of other cats every Sunday.  The revelation caused Jethro's claws to sink into the leaves littering the ground underneath the bushes. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed hard, abandoning the shelter of bushes. He desperately looked around for any sign of other cats.

Through the fog, Jethro saw the small form of Reverend Luke running across the church lawn with Polly close at his heels. It was her first time back to Sunday service since her kittens were born. Jethro hated to have to ruin their day with such horrible circumstances. Accompanying them were a few church choir members, chattering amongst each other. Jethro wondered if they were discussing Tom-Tom's absence. The cat made a point of being very punctual, arriving at the church right on time every morning. Technically, he'd been punctual that morning as well, but in a different way.

Before the other cats got too close to the body, Jethro sprung out of the bushes and raced over towards them. Luke looked a bit surprised to see him out of breath but greeted him with the usual warmth

"Jethro, it's so good to see you," he purred. "Have you been out running?"

"Yes, but I'm not the only one out of breath, Reverend," Jethro said, panting as he tried to catch his breath. "Something terrible has happened... Channary and I have found a body." There was a collective gasp from the assembled churchgoers. "I'm afraid it's one of our own."

"Who?" Luke asked, owl-like eyes growing even wider as he listened to his friend explain who and what he found. Jethro hung his head, halfway expecting one of the choir members to lash out at him for the answer.

"Tom-Tom." Another collective gasp met with a few desperate wails. Tom-Tom's mother was one of the choir singers. Jethro approached the small ginger tabby solemnly. "I'm terribly sorry you had to find out like this, Minerva. Channary and I only found him about fifteen minutes ago."

Unable to respond with her words, the elderly queen wailed out with misery. She turned to one of the other cats and buried her face in their shoulder. Turning back toward Luke, Jethro said, "I'm afraid we'll have to hold the service elsewhere. This will be considered a crime scene once Channary comes back with the chief. We have to keep it sectioned off to save evidence."

Luke nodded wearily. "I understand, Jethro. We will stay out of your way. May God bless you." He wrapped his tail around Polly, who looked distraught as she leaned against him. The couple took their time to make personal connections with each and every one of the church members. The death of Tom-Tom was hitting them hard. A murder so close to home upset Jethro as well, but he wanted to make the job easier on his favorite reverend.

"Listen, Luke -- you can use the general store for the service today if you'd like," Jethro said. "Cody doesn't mind us coming in and you know how he loves the animals. As long as you keep out of the humans' way, no one will bother you. I just want to make sure you're all safe." He stepped forward to give Luke a gentle lick on the ear in an attempt to show solidarity. "It's the least I can do."

"Thank you very much, that should be sufficient," Luke said with a sigh. "Can we wait at the front so all of the members may go together? I don't want to leave anyone out."

"Of course. If I find any stragglers I'll send them your way." A flick of the tail signaled Jethro's approval, and Luke nodded, murmuring a few words into Polly's ear before leading the rest of the group to the church's driveway. Sadly, Jethro noticed how low to the ground Tom-Tom's mother seemed to be as he watched them leave. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose a child. It was a reality all cats were forced to face and with a jolt, he realized Luke must be facing the same reality. Jethro flattened his ears and looked back in the direction of the bushes.

Whatever it took, Jethro silently promised he would find the bastard who committed such a horrible crime. This particular attack did not affect only Tom-Tom and his mother. It affected the entire church community and became personal to Jethro. The only question on his mind was if he would be able to find the killer before the killer found his next victim.

[winedwords]

Finn| Bad Intentions |Balor

Title; Bad Intentions

Pairing; Finn Balor/Reader, past Prince Devitt/Reader

Words; 6110

Summary;  Is it such a sin for me to take what’s mine?

Warnings; NSFW. Heel!Antagonist!Reader. Smut, choking, breathplay. Some angst idk? VERY unhealthy relationships. Emotional abuse, mental abuse, and grooming of a younger woman by an older man if you squint and read between the lines.

A/N: repost from the old blog

Don’t let anyone tell you anything different, I was the best in the business.

Most of my peers were loath to admit it, but I wasn’t in this to make friends.

I was at the top of my game and I had collected accolades, monikers, and titles in every promotion I had stepped foot in. I left a trail of blood, sweat, and tears in every country. No one could fucking touch me. I was the Queen of the Cage, la Reina de las Reinas, the First Lady, but none if it meant anything without him.

All the achievements, the championships, the milestones were hollow with him missing from my side. Food tasted like ash and charcoal, alcohol had no effect anymore. He was everything. He was my mentor, my best friend, the love of my life. I wouldn’t be where I am, who I am without him.  He broke me apart to rebuild me, to make me better and stronger. He pushed and pulled me to do more, to be more.

I hated him.

God, I missed him.

I missed him so much it made my bones ache and my stomach drop through the floor.  He was the sun to my moon, the lightning to my thunder. He was my other half, he made me complete.

I was a scared nineteen year old kid when I met him in 2012. It was my first time out of the United States, my first big contract and with Stardom no less, and my first time honestly being able to support myself. I didn’t know Japanese at the time, I didn’t know anyone in the country… I was well and truly alone and feeling isolated. I was slow to make friends, picking up many more rivals than I could keep track of, and it felt like more often than not I was crying myself to sleep.

My first tour hadn’t gone well, accruing more losses than wins, and I was licking my wounds in a little dive bar in Roppongi, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the worn leather of the booth. I wanted to be left alone with my sake and then he slid into the booth with me, all bright eyes with a pearly white and coaxing smile. He’d said he’d been watching me, that he thought I was special, that with just a little help, I could take over women’s wrestling.

“A pretty little thing like ya deserves th’ world. Ye don’ have ta make a decision right now. Jus’ come see what ’m talkin’ about and then make up ye mind.”

Do you know how intoxicating that is? For a man that looked like him, with the accomplishments that he’d already had at the time, to be paying attention to little, ol’ me? To be paying me a kind word and a flirtatious smile? I was a nobody who’d been given a lucky break, a green and wet behind the ears rookie fresh out of the training schools.

I was deeply under his spell within minutes.

He swept me off my feet and we ran Japan for two wonderful, whirlwind years. We fought and we fucked and we took everything we wanted without apology. He was my soulmate and we were living our version of a fairy tale.

Then it all came crashing down around us in 2014 and he was gone.

He didn’t let me explain. He ignored my phone calls, my texts, my emails. He blocked me on all social media. I couldn’t get into touch with him. I was stuck between two impossible decisions, each one as painful as the other: I either turned my back on the family I helped create to chase a man who wouldn’t listen to me or I stayed with my support system, give them hell for the position that I was now put in, and pine after what could have still been.

I chose to stay, watching with pride as my little family got bigger and more powerful, but still longing for the man on the other side of the world. I was no saint, I had my dalliances when the nights got cold and the emptiness of my bed became overwhelming, but there was never another that affected me as deeply. Acquaintances of mine gave me sporadic updates as to how he was doing, but they were nowhere near as frequent as I would have liked.

Then he began to change, washing himself clean of everything he had been in Japan, and it felt like a slap in the face. I no longer recognized him, even if this new man wore the face of the love of my life. He was showing those people the side of him that was supposed to be only for me, the side that I saw when we were wrapped up in each other in the afterglow of our lovemaking. It angered me more than anything I had ever experienced in my life. I could see little glimpses of the man he was in Japan when he wore the body paint, ruthlessly efficient with the briefest flashes of a sadistic streak.

For the first time, I had hope. He was still in there somewhere, under that good Irish lad routine.

I could work with this.

Which was why I was here, in the gorilla position at RAW in some stupid American city, with this damn oversized hoodie on to disguise my appearance. Anderson had insisted on this measure, wanting the element of surprise for this six person tag. It wasn’t like he didn’t know I was with the company now, he had successfully avoided me at every company function and at the Performance Center after all.

Tonight though, he had nowhere to run.

“Be good pipsqueak.”

Luke marched past me to the curtain, pausing just briefly enough to press a kiss to my forehead. Karl was so much less subtle, wrapping me up into a bear hug with a bellow.

“We’ll see you out there sis! God this feels good! Just like old times!”

He let me go with a booming laugh, ruffled my hair, then disappeared with Luke through the curtains as their music hit. I was left alone with my thoughts and suddenly, the nerves I didn’t know were building made themselves known with a vengeance. I hadn’t felt this way since my first show, the nauseating roll of my stomach mixed with the frantic tattoo of my heart threatening to derail all of my hard work.

No, not this close to getting what I wanted.

The sound tech nodded at me and the showing of teeth I gave barely passed for a grin, quickly shedding the oversized hoodie and replacing it with an equally overlarge leather jacket. It had been one of the few things I still had from our time together… The lights dimmed and my music started, the foreboding drum track setting the mood. The guitars hit and I passed through the curtain to the screaming crowd as my name was emblazoned above me on the titantron.

Am I beautiful? As I tear you to pieces?

The roar of the crowd was thunderous and I could feel the vibrations of their screams in my chest. Normally, the cascade of boos and/or cheers created the most intense high, but right now?  There was no time to drink it in, my eyes drawn immediately to the ring. Karl and Luke were at the end ramp, looking entirely too satisfied with themselves. I didn’t care about the other two, Rollins and Bayley, not when he was right there, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

His face was pale, eyes wide, and mouth agape in shock and the predatory grin that took over my face couldn’t be helped. Even after all these years, I still had an effect on him. I winked and straightened his jacket with a touch so slow it could have been mistaken for a caress. I sauntered my way down the ramp, my eyes never leaving him as he leaned over to hurriedly speak with Bayley, his hand gestures frantic. Bayley appeared skeptical, but there was a touch of worry there in the set of her mouth.

Whatever Finn was saying about me was likely true.

“Oh my god. That’s (Y/N) from NXT! What is she doing here? Is she Anderson and Gallows’ partner?”

“Are you dumb Michael? Of course she’s here as their partner! She decimated the NXT Women’s division, so why not get some fresh competition on RAW?”

I slid into the ring, between the top and second ropes, my eyes never leaving Finn. I didn’t play to the crowd or acknowledge anyone else in the ring, because it felt like everything else had fell away and every fiber of my being was screaming for him.

He looked almost exactly like he did in Japan. The lines around his eyes were a little deeper, the contours of his body a little sharper, the beard a little fuller than I remembered, but it was still him. Now if only he would not look so shaken by my presence, I’d be feeling a little more confident. I could faintly feel Luke and Karl flanking me and I gave Finn a slow, exaggerated once over, completely ignoring Bayley and Seth.

“Hello handsome. It’s been a while.”

The Irishman’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his jaw ticking, and he swallowed tightly at my words. He remained silent with flinty eyes and I pouted, disappointed at the lack of a more overt reaction. I heard what sounded like the bell and I was being cajoled by Karl back into our corner.

I wasn’t really paying attention to the match. I paid no mind to the chants of the crowd or to the curious looks from Finn’s partners. I was in a daze, my eyes only focused on the lean, sinewy body of Finn and trying not to be overwhelmed by the dizzying speed with which the memories assaulted me. I was in the middle of a particularly fond memory of a beach in Okinawa and tanning oil when Karl elbowed me sharply.

Bayley, the silly girl had tagged herself in, to the protests of Finn.

I wasn’t too proud to admit that the little green monster of jealousy flared at the concern he was showing for her. It was I that was with him when Bullet Club was formed. It was I who helped him to that second Best of the Super Juniors, and then picked him back up after his failed challenge to Okada. It was I who endured his rage after losing the title to Kota Ibushi. It was I who knew the darkest parts of his soul and still worshipped him regardless. I was the only person he should be looking at like that.

She was going to regret making herself special to him.

I kept my body deceptively relaxed as I entered the ring and stared down the former Women’s champion, head cocked to the side like she was a particularly fascinating insect. Bayley seemed to be caught off guard by my perceived disinterest in actually engaging her. I stood like that for several moments while my opponent circled me, the crowd becoming increasingly confused as well.

“Do something!”

I arched my brow at her cried words and still didn’t move. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Finn’s face contort in trepidation as he began to pace in his corner and Seth’s body language appeared to be equally as anxious. It was while my eyes weren’t on her that Bayley threw a clubbing forearm, my head twisting to the side as I staggered backwards and pain blooming across my jaw. I rubbed at the sore area, a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips as I turned back to her and I could feel the all too familiar buzz in my veins.

“This isn’t anything personal. You’re just in my way.”

Her eyes went wide as I hit her across the face with a European uppercut, her body crashing to the mat. She rolled towards the ropes, the gather herself, and I cocked my head to the side, a game plan forming. I let her pull herself up using the ropes and as soon as she was up to a vertical base, I aimed a sharp kick to the arm she had braced on the top rope. The crack of my boot hitting the tender flesh of the inside of her upper arm was satisfying and so was the way Bayley cradled her arm to her body.

“Tha’ barely stung, stór. Y'need ta kick me like y'hate me. Do ye want ta be a champion or a nobody? Do it again.”

The ghost of Devitt’s words echoed in my ears and added extra force to my strikes. The buzz that was in my veins began to intensify, the blows of my elbows, knees, and palms connecting with Bayley with the most satisfying sound of flesh striking flesh. It’s hard for anyone to get an offense going when they’re curled in on themselves, looking for any sort of reprieve in this kind of assault. Luke and Karl were behind me yelling encouragement and I could have sworn I smelled blood in the water.

“Yer hips are outta position again stupid girl. Yer never goin’ ta get the height on tha’ suplex and yer opponent will use it against ya. ’m not gonna fookin’ tell ya third time.”

Something as elementary as a suplex was what tripped me up. My hips weren’t positioned underneath Bayley’s, nor were they square enough to lift her. The former champion sensed it and was able to reverse my attempt at a German suplex into one of her own. I landed heavily on my shoulders, my head pounding against the mat, and I could have sworn I saw stars. Fuck, not like this. I had too much to prove.

A moment passed, then I realized over the roar of the crowd in attendance that she wasn’t making a pin attempt.

She began to crawl her way towards her corner, her hand stretching towards her teammates to tag someone, anyone in. Bayley’s digits were just mere inches from touching Finn’s outstretched hand in a tag, but she was just a hair too slow as I caught her by her boots.

“No one is goin’ ta help ya. Th’ queen’s job is ta protect th’ king. Remember yer role and don’t ask me again.”

“Won’t you help her Finn? She needs you!” I jerked Bayley back by her foot violently, before grabbing her outstretched arm and waving it mockingly in his direction. “Save her Finn!”

The boos and screams of disapproval made my blood sing.

Finn’s face was stony and Seth was yelling at the referee about sportsmanship as I grabbed Bayley by her ponytail and pulled her to the middle of the ring. I gave a small giggle before attempting to lock in a cross armbreaker.  I wasn’t quite fast enough as she locked her hands together and I couldn’t pry them apart. Sweat was burning at my eyes and my muscles were screaming, but I pushed it all aside as I kicked a boot to her face and got back to my feet.

I needed to end this.

Bayley was like dead weight and it was a struggle to get her to her feet, but I was able to manage it. I grabbed a fistful of her now loose ponytail and jerked her head upwards as I turned to make eye contact with Finn.

“Ye take what y'want. And make a fookin’  statement when ya do it. Now come and give me some lovin’.”

The feral grin couldn’t be pushed off of my face as I held my index finger and thumb to my opponent’s temple in a mimicry of a gun. Finn snarled, but it was already too late. I pulled Bayley up into Bloody Sunday and sent her crashing to the mat, quickly floating over for the pin.

Luke and Karl had snuck around the ring to pull both Finn and Seth off the apron to prevent them from breaking up the cover.

One.

Two.

Three.

“’m so proud of ya, stór. So fookin’ proud.”

He approached me a couple minutes after the match, in a seemingly abandoned hallway. It didn’t matter that he had a thundercloud over his head and an angry purpose in his walk. I lit up with a sunny smile when I realized I was his sole focus and God, did it feel good to be the only thing he could see again.

“Hey handsome! Are you proud of me? That was a really good match, wasn’t it? I did good right?”

I could feel myself practically vibrating with nervous energy and anticipation. He was here, in front of me, and I had his undivided attention and I was blind to his anger.

“What th’ fook is wrong with ya, (Y/N)? That wasn’t a match, that was ye tryin’ ta hurt Bayley!”

I blinked, confused. Why was he so concerned about Bayley?  I beat her, that’s what mattered to Dev- Finn.

“But I won? That’s what you told me always mattered. Besides, I’m here now! We can be like we were!”

He shook his head, a wan smile on his face. “Un-fookin-believable. Is that what ye really think?”

I knew he would be different, I just didn’t know that it would be like this. The hurt and the confusion pumped through me, my brows furrowed.

“I don’t understand Devitt. What has this place done to you? You make a little more money and then you go soft? Or do you just not believe in yourself anymore?”

“’m not Devitt anymore. It’s been a long time (Y/N), ’m not the same man ye knew in Japan.”

I snorted derisively, venom on the tip of my tongue. The hurt remained, but the confusion was quickly morphing into anger. He didn’t see it, he would always be Devitt. You don’t just throw away pieces of your personality, of yourself, simply because you’re afraid of it.

“That much is clear. The man I knew in Japan was fearless, he took what he wanted and when he wanted it. He didn’t care about how he got it or what the fans thought about him,” I spat the words like they were something disgusting at him. “The man I knew in Japan wouldn’t have become this castrated shadow  that’s standing in front of me.”

Finn’s face went slack for just a moment, the barest of moments, in shock before the fire sparked in his eyes and his visage twisted into an angry snarl.

“Ye don’t get ta say shit like that ta me. Not after what ya did.”

I felt like I had been slapped, the air rushing from my lungs. I knew we’d be discussing this eventually, but like this? So soon? And in an empty fucking hallway?

“If you would have let me explain after it happened instead of shutting me out like a child, you would have known that I wasn’t involved! They didn’t tell me any-”

“But ya still stayed with them! Ya still stayed and ya did nothing. If that doesn’t tell me all I need ta know about it, I don’t know what will.”

The anger that bubbled within me was swift and all consuming.

“I had no other choice Dev- Finn! Was I supposed to turn my back on people that you made like family to me? To be alone again? Would that have made you happy? Would you have spoken to me then? ”

His bark of laughter was condescending and for a moment, just a moment, I thought it was the man I fell in love with in front of me. The cold cruelty and the rapier tongue, the vicious sneer and the calculating eyes… Beneath the burn of anger in my veins, my heart swelled with hope. He was still there.

“Family? Do ye fuck the new head of the family to welcome them? Did ya call AJ daddy? How long did it take for ya to hop inta Omega’s bed? Or maybe Cole’s more yer taste, ya do like them pret-”

The crack of the slap echoed through the hallway, Finn’s head snapping to the side from the force of my palm striking his cheek. The palm of my hand felt numb from the force of the slap and I could have sworn I heard the barest of growls escaping from Finn’s mouth, but I continued, any sense of self preservation fleeing in the face of my own fury.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you ever doubt how I feel about you. Nothing ever happened with Styles or Cole. And where do you get off trying to pull that shit? Like you’ve been a fucking saint since Japan. I know all about the rats.”

Finn touched the angry red handprint on his cheek, rubbing at it tenderly.

“So it was Omega then. ‘ow did I know? Figures ye’d go fer someone as mentally fooked as you.”

My vision tinged red.

With a shriek I launched myself at him, fingers outstretched in a crude imitation of claws, with every intention of gouging those pretty blue eyes out.

Gallows, from seemingly out of nowhere, materialized, wrapped his arms around my waist mid air, and proceeded to frog march me out of the hall. Ever so faintly, from behind me as I was flailing helplessly in the much taller man’s arms, I could hear Anderson trying to talk Finn down from the rage he was inevitably in.

I caught Gallows’ muttered words though, the anger fleeing my body and a feeling of satisfaction settling into my bones, and I just knew that I looked like the cat who caught a canary.

“God, it’s like we’re in Japan all over again.”

Several weeks went on like that. I was the cat and he was the mouse and God, did I enjoy the chase. There was just something so primal and satisfying about this. I would show up at ringside for his matches, never interfering, but just watching. I made sure to get underfoot whenever he was going anywhere, always with an offer of help and a smile. We were even arguing with each other again, which was something I always looked forward to.

Fale used to joke that arguing and fighting was practically foreplay for us.

He was a little rattled at first.

I was wearing him down, I just knew I was.

He had called me stór during one of our many arguments.  He’d visited me, ever so briefly, in the training room when it was thought that I sustained a concussion in a match with Banks. When he thought I was asleep on a flight, Finn had walked by and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear.

Finn seemed to be changing as well. His temper was shorter, which was leading him to become more easily frustrated in matches. On more than one occasion, I had tracked the Irishman’s eyes to a chair or to the ramp. I had even caught him looking like he was about to call to me for assistance when I was at ringside during a house show. He seemed to have realized what he was about to do as well, because he looked like he swallowed a lemon.

Things escalated one Monday night, in the dead of summer.

Finn was on his way to the title match with Brock and that pesky swamp man kept getting in the way. Wyatt made my skin crawl and just meeting his eyes once was enough for me to start checking behind me in dark hallways and parking lots. So it was with a great deal of dread that I made the decision that I did when it was apparent that Wyatt had brought lackeys with him to interrupt Finn’s match.

The lights had cut and then that eerie music began to play for just a moment.

Then the music cut and there was just darkness.

I was in the back watching on a screen, Anderson and Gallows nowhere to be seen, and the hair immediately began to stand on the back of my neck. This wasn’t good and I couldn’t leave him out there alone without backup.

The lights came up and I was out of the dressing room like a shot out of the barrel of a gun.

Wyatt and his two large masked lackeys were in the ring, Finn surrounded, and Reigns knocked out cold on the floor.

I at least had the wherewithal to grab a steel pipe on my way to the ring.

The crowd was confused, exploding into simultaneous cheers and boos as I charged down the ramp to the ring, where Wyatt was laughing and not paying me any mind.

Which was fine by me.

I slid into the ring and swung for the fences into one of the mask wearing lackey’s abdomens. The vibrations up the pipe from the force of the strike hurt my hands, but I couldn’t stop. There were three of them and one of me, Finn and Reigns being of no help after their beatdowns. Wyatt was relaxed against the ring post, his head cocked to the side with a the strangest grin on his face. The second masked goon charged, his arm held out for a clothesline.  The one thing I did have going for me was  agility and I was able to duck underneath the thick arm, to pivot and strike at the man’s low back.

The way the man dropped was only satisfying for a moment.

I had turned my back to Wyatt and when I turned around, I was kicked in the stomach, the air rushing out of me audibly and the pipe dropping from my hand. Before I was able to recover, I was bent backwards into a horrifying dip. Air was still a precious resource and the lack of it limited my struggles as Wyatt laughed, then he pressed a scratchy kiss to my forehead.

I thought I heard a shout from where Finn lay, then darkness.

The world came back to me just a moment later, with Gallows’ worried face swimming in my vision.

“What the hell, pipsqueak?”

I went to laugh, but I groaned at the pounding in my skull. Medics came to attend to me and I waved them off. It was going to take more than that to keep me down and needing medical attention. Groaning, I moved to sit up in an upright position.

“’m fine ’m fine. Finn, is Finn okay?”

Gallows’ barked laugh startled me and made my head throb, but he was shaking his head with a fond grin and he leaned back onto his heels.

“I guess some things never do change. See for yourself.”

It was then, over the dull roar of the crowd, that I could make out the accented shouts that could only be from one person and my heart swelled painfully as I turned towards them. For a moment, it’s like I was back in Japan.

“Did ye really think ye’d get away with this? ’m gonna rip ya to fookin’ pieces!”

Old Machine Gun, bless him, was attempting to hold back an absolutely enraged Irishman who just so happened to be wielding the steel pipe I had dropped. Wyatt was laughing maniacally at ringside, security surrounding him and his two masked lackeys. Off on the other end of the ring, the medical staff were tending to a groggy looking Reigns. Luke put a thick arm around my frame and hoisted me to my feet, mumbling the entire time about how the last time this happened, Captain New Japan was in the hospital for a week.

“The queen always comes to protect the king, Balor! Just like I knew she would!”

The roar that tore out of Finn’s body was damn near inhuman and he lunged forward towards the ropes, the pipe at the ready. Karl cursed, leaning into the Irishman to keep him from attempting to commit murder. My blood buzzed pleasantly at the way that he seemed so intent on caving in Wyatt’s skull, seemingly because the other man had mentioned me.

“Easy there Finnegan! Hey! Hey cool it man! She’s up and moving!”

He whirled around, seemingly possessed, with eyes ablaze and the steel pipe at the ready.

Those molten blue-gray eyes made contact with mine and time seemed to slow. Everyone else fell away and it felt the only two people in an arena of fifteen thousand was Finn and I. Electricity crackled in the air and through my body and Finn took a hesitant step forward, hesitation and uncertainty clear in his body language. He was angry (with both myself and the creepy swamp man, no doubt), concerned with how heavily I was leaning on Gallows, and for the first time, in a long time, lust.

“Don’t you ever doubt me again.”

I had to be helped both backstage and to the hotel room that night.

My head was pounding and my neck was painfully stiff. I’d been here before, no amount of compresses or painkillers would help, just sleep and time. Gallows and Anderson hovered like burly mother hens until I threatened to smother them with pillows and then they mercifully left. I had been cleared of a concussion by the medical staff, there was no need for this, especially when we had been in Japan together and they’d seen me in much, much more dangerous situations.

I had to force myself to take a shower after that. Every movement was a struggle, the little twinges of pain constant and annoying. Each time I blinked, I saw Finn on the inside of my eyelids. The way his face had set in determination when I had spoken to him tonight, the fierce brightness in his eyes, the way every muscle in his body seemed to be tensed in preparation for something…

Sleep was within my reach, curled up on the too soft mattress in an overly large t-shirt, limbs heavy when I was unceremoniously pulled from the world of dreams by a series of heavy knocks at the hotel door. I groaned, pulling a pillow over my head. Maybe if just ignored whoever it was at the door, they would take the hint and leave.

Luck was not on my side, as the knocks became louder and so much more insistent. I punched at the pillowy mattress with a growl before vaulting myself off the bed and stomping to the door, my mood fouling with each step. If it was Gallows or Anderson, I was going to take more than a pound of flesh.

My heart stuttered and my breath caught as I peered into the peephole.

Dev- Finn. Finn was outside of my room. His face was dark and unreadable, his body language tense and filled with barely restrained energy.

My fingers shook as I unlatched the locks on the door and I could feel sweat beginning to bead along my hairline.

As soon as the hotel room door was open enough to face Finn, he was suddenly surrounding me. There were no words spoken, not when his mouth was moving almost viciously against mine, all teeth and tongue. One hand had a bruising grip against my hips, the other cradling my face tenderly, and then my back hit the wall with a thud. I could have sobbed at the sudden rush of emotion and arousal.

He’d come home. 

“Can’t stay away from ya anymore.”

The words were murmured against my mouth, as he made short work of large, worn sleeping shirt I was wearing. The cotton fabric gave way underneath his large hands, the delicate lace of my panties shredding with ease, the elastic of the waistband biting into the flesh of my hips before it gave way. The sting of the elastic made me gasp and Finn took that opportunity to place biting kisses along the sensitive skin of my neck. The feel of his lips and teeth sent a livewire of arousal to my core, the flesh between my thighs becoming uncomfortably slick.

The hand on my hip traveled to my core and dipped in, to test to see if I was ready. His sudden touch on my overheated flesh sent me arching against him with a lusty whimper and the smirk on his face alone was enough to bring me to the brink of an orgasm. There was a rustle of clothing and then my right leg was being lifted to loop around his hip, the thick and blunt head of his cock pressing against the opening to my core.

“P-please Finn. Missed this, missed you!” I barely recognized my own voice in the high pitched whine that squeaked out of me. His hips snapped forward sharply giving me no time to adjust, the sudden stretch right at that razor’s edge of pleasure blending into pain.

“Yer gonna wanna hold on, stór.”

I scrambled to grasp his shoulders, forced onto tip toes to keep this angle that made me pant with pleasure. Finn, somehow after all this time, was still able to find that one spot hidden inside of me that made my toes curl and my fingernails dig into his shoulders. His breath was labored and he littered bites along my neck and shoulders. With every new mark, I could feel my orgasm creeping closer and closer.

He wrapped a large hand around my throat and leaned in to mutter filth about how much he missed this and how I felt so much better than he remembered. The pressure on my neck was mounting with every snap of his hips, air becoming more precious and my vision going fuzzy.

“Scream fer me. We’re jus’ gettin’ started.”

His hand came off of my throat and I came apart with a scream, just as I was commanded.

He was exactly as I remembered, completely insatiable. No surface in that small hotel room went unused, the bed being saved for the last two rounds. I fell asleep with my head over his heart, deliciously sore and sated with a soft smile.

He came back.

I woke up to an empty bed the next morning.

“One! Two! Three! He did it! Finn Balor has taken back the championship he never lost!”

I had never been so proud of him.

I hadn’t seen him since that stolen night in the hotel less than a week ago. He had been successful in avoiding me, my little black heart tugged painfully at the possible thought that what had happened was our final hurrah.

“Do you wanna go congratulate him pipsqueak?”

My head snapped to Gallows, who was watching me with soft eyes and a knowing smile on his face. The big man was deceptively perceptive and he seemed to prefer it when people underestimated him. He’d never once corrected anyone, preferring to let others just think he’s muscle.

“Can we?”

The words came out a little bit more earnest than I intended to, but Gallows just gave a grin and shouted at Machine Gun to come on out, that we were going to give Balor an early victory celebration. Karl gave a woop of excitement, hurrying everyone out the door of the dressing room.

It’s as we were making our way to the gorilla position, that the monitors showed we weren’t the only ones with the same idea. Ambrose, Reigns, and Rollins had joined the new champion in the ring, appearing to both congratulate him and throw their name into the metaphorical ring for a title shot.

The heads of the four men snapped towards the ramp as the Club’s music hit and we started down the ramp. The former members of the Shield were tense, clearly preparing for a confrontation, but Finn… Finn was pretending to be ready for a fight.

I knew him better than I knew myself. I was able to read every mood, every subtle shift in body language. It was part of the reason our relationship was so turbulent in the past, we knew exactly where to needle each other. He was putting on a front for the three other men, but why?

Then I saw it.

The barest of winks. The smile that split across my face could only be described as maniacal.

Not only had he come back home, he was coming back home completely whole.

I knew my Prince would come back.

[nocteverbascio]

lintz - what i left behind (10-11/?)

Pairing: Sydney Katz/Maggie Lin Summary: AU. Post S3, when Sydney leaves, she leaves for good. Without realizing it, Maggie feels like something is missing in her life. The story where Sydney leaves breadcrumbs for Maggie to follow but Maggie doesn’t realize it. A/N: sorry im running into some writers block because this turned into a longer project than i intended so its a bit daunting but rest assured im going to finish this there’s gonna be some lintz goodness here!

ao3 link

x.

“I see your emails, Maggie,” Alex announces as she walks into her room with her chart.

“Those better be my discharge papers,” Maggie says as she stares at Alex. She doesn’t move to get up though. The moving table has her laptop and several books open. She’s in the middle of studying.

Alex throws a cheeky smile at her. “What did you threaten Jackson with to get all this?”

“Har har,” Maggie returns sarcastically. “I already had them in my locker. I know your schedules too well that I covertly made it there and back without you knowing.”

“You should be resting.”

“I have been.”

“Maggie, when’s the last time you went on a vacation?”

“I was just in Boston a couple of weekends ago,” Maggie reminds. “I have a lot of work to do. Second round of interviews with BWH are in a few days.”

Alex shuts her mouth. She knows how stubborn Maggie can get, but she also knows that Maggie is clearly working hard to overcompensate for something. Or in this case, someone. “Well, when that’s done with, maybe it’ll be good to take time off before jumping into your new job,” Alex suggests.

Maggie scoffs. “If I get it.” Alex narrows her eyes and Maggie sees this.

Alex is about to respond when a ringing starts from Maggie’s laptop. She glances over. “Sydney Katz?”

“Yeah, just one second--” Maggie accepts the call.

“How old do I look to you?” Sydney sharply asks, frustration clear in her voice. Maggie smiles at the flustered look on her pale skin. “You wouldn’t believe what this intern had the nerve to say to me today--”

“Hey, Syd,” Maggie starts, glancing at Alex, who raises her eyebrows. “Can I call you back in a few minutes?”

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” Sydney asks.

Maggie opens her mouth to talk when Alex steps beside Maggie into the camera view.

“Oh! Hello, Dr. Reid,” Sydney greets in surprise.

“Hi, Dr. Katz,” Alex casually returns. “It’s nice to see your face after so long.”

Sydney shuts her mouth. “I’ve been really busy. How is Luke doing? He should be toddling around by now,” she jokes politely.

Maggie holds back a smile as Alex glances at Maggie, noticing a change in Sydney’s demeanor.

“Luke’s doing great, thanks for asking,” Alex says. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well,” Sydney answers. “I should let you go. I can call back later.” She glances at Maggie to see if that’s okay.

Alex sees the looks between them and finds it’s time to bow out. But Maggie says goodbye too quickly and presses the end call before Alex can protest.

Maggie bites her lip as she closes her laptop. “So, the discharge papers?” she diverts.

“So, video calls?” Alex prods playfully.

“You said I should talk to her and now I am,” Maggie deflects back to Alex.

“Mmm.”

“Don’t be weird about this. We’re just talking.”

“How long have you been talking?”

“Just a couple of days,” Maggie brushes off. “She worries about me since the bombing.”

“Hmm.”

“Stop that.”

Alex lets out an innocent, “What? I’m not saying anything.”

Maggie gives her a serious look. And if that look could kill. “You’re being weird about this. Don’t make it weird. We’re just talking like friends.”

“Were you ever just friends?” Alex asks.

Maggie blushes. “Whatever. Are you going to discharge me or what?”

Maggie knows full well she and Sydney have been...more than friends.

xi.

Maggie realize she can’t stand being at home. The week she gets discharged, she spends approximately two days cleaning up her small apartment before realizing there isn’t much else for her to do. Outside of work, she realizes she hasn’t had a hobby in years.

Her dating life is also abysmal but to be honest, with how things are going with work, it feels like she can actually focus on herself now.

She tries not be too hasty. She takes a day to go on a hike, ride her bike, and tries to see a movie. She relearns how to properly make tea, meticulously grooms her nails, and tries to cook three times a day. It’s relaxing but feels purposeless. The most productive thing she was able to do was the second round interview with BWH, which had felt stellar. By the end of the week, she’s more than ready to go back to Hope Zion.

Maggie is getting checked out by Shahir when she gets a page from Dawn.

“Dr. Lin, I see that you’re back sooner than expected,” Dawn states impassively as she stands in the doorway.

“Yeah, can’t really stay away,” Maggie says in return. “Shahir said I was clear and I am ready to work.”

Dawn looks at her skeptically but nods. “That’s good to hear. I also wanted to let you know that Dr. Carter is moving to Montreal in two weeks.”

Maggie stares, briefly confused. “Does that mean...?” she lets her question trail off by the way Dawn assesses her. There’s an imperceptible smile on Dawn’s lips as she nods.

“I know that you have been pursuing opportunities elsewhere.” Of course Dawn knows, she helped Maggie prep for her interview. “However, I think you’ve proven yourself to be a competent doctor here at Hope Zion. We’d be very pleased to have you on staff.”

Maggie feels elated at this news. Just by the way Dawn, out of all people, is the one to tell her. She’s not going to lie she used to hate Dawn, but she respected the shit out of the woman. Now for Dawn to tell her of this opportunity? It’s like her moment at Hope Zion has finally come.

“Thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Bell,” Maggie chirps happily.  

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dawn drawls. “You have some time to make a decision, so use it wisely.”

“Of course,” Maggie practically bows with her nod. “I will let you know soon.”

“Maggie?” Dawn stops her as she readily leaves her office. “You’ve done a good job.”

Maggie can’t help but smile as she leaves Dawn’s office. She teeming with excitement as she bounces through the halls. It’s finally here. Her opportunity. Oh god, her opportunities. BWH hasn’t gotten back to her just yet, but she knows their decision is coming soon.

As she makes her way to find Alex, she can feel the vibration in her pocket.

She pulls out her phone to see Sydney’s name for a video chat. Maggie smiles even harder as she clicks the green button. “Hey there.”

Sydney is dressed in her scrubs and scrub cap on. She tilts her head, inspecting Maggie’s face. “You’re too thin,” she deadpans.

Maggie chews the inside of her cheek. “Are you Jewish mothering me or ex-girlfriending me?” she asks as she turns into the on call room.

“I didn’t know we were exes,” Sydney jokes back.

“Not really just friends either,” Maggie reminds with a coy smile.

“Are you at work right now?” Sydney switches gears suddenly, noticing when Maggie sits down on a cot. Maggie nods. She looks disapprovingly. “It’s so soon after the accident, are you sure you should be back?”

“I’d rather be back with a headache than surfing daytime television.”

“Fair enough.”

Maggie purses her lips. “So...you’re calling me at work now?” The smile hasn’t ebbed since leaving Dawn’s office.

Sydney smiles gently. “I just got a call from Dr. Shepard actually because someone put me down as a reference for an application.”

“You technically made yourself my reference when you highly recommended me,” she gently prods. They haven’t spoken about that just yet, but now seems like a good a time as any. “Apparently, you talk about me a lot.”

Sydney tries to remain impassive but she smiles playfully at Maggie. “You’re a good doctor, Maggie, sue me if I talk about your work. It’s not like I sing praises to everyone about you.”

Maggie wiggles her eyebrows at Sydney that makes her turn red. “Seriously though, baruch hashem and thank you, of course.” Sydney’s eyes subtly widen. “I feel like a lot of things have changed and somehow you’ve played a part in it.”

Sydney softens at this with a wistful sigh. “It was all of your hard work too Maggie.”

Maggie learns that when it comes to her, Sydney has a hard time taking a compliment. So she’ll let it slide this time.

“Brigham and Women’s would be lucky to have you.”

For a second Maggie falters because she faces a new conflict. If she does get the job at BWH would she want to go knowing that there’s one here for her at Hope Zion? She stayed in Toronto because she thought her time would come. Now that it has, seeing Sydney being so encouraging and having recommended her for so many things, it feels wrong to not take the opportunity. Maggie could get out of there, make a life in Boston, do great things in a new environment.

Sydney catches on too quickly. “What’s wrong? You don’t seem excited anymore.”

Maggie shakes her head, trying to find the right words. “I am, I am---” Sydney hums knowingly and Maggie frowns. “I’m still excited. I guess, I’m a little conflicted?”

Sydney looks at her with concern.

Maggie doesn’t know why it’s so easy to talk to Sydney. She doesn’t know why she wants to talk to Sydney about this. It’s like her opinion actually matters. Maybe it’s because she was her mentor or maybe it was because it felt nice having a friend to talk to. Or maybe it was because it was Sydney. A different version of Sydney that Maggie feels closer to.

“What’s going on?” Sydney asks. She is genuinely concerned.

“I just got back from seeing Dawn and she mentioned a staff position here opening up,” Maggie lets out with a heavy heart. “She asked me to think about it.”

Sydney’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, wow.”

Her surprise is subdued but Maggie doesn’t have the heart to ask. She already feels kind of guilty that she’s happy by the prospect of becoming a staff OB at Hope Zion.

“That’s good news though, Maggie,” Sydney says softly.

Maggie nods, a bit delayed. “I know,” she responds. “They’re both great opportunities and I just feel a bit overwhelmed now that I think about it. It’s not like I was expecting these things to happen all at once.” Maggie blushes as Sydney intently listens to her. “I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m rambling.”

“It’s fine,” Sydney smiles gently. Maggie’s sure if Sydney was there, she’d hold her hand, which she really wouldn’t mind right now. “Hmm. Just take your time making your decision. You’ll know what the right one is when the time comes.”

“Thanks, Syd.”

Sydney bobs her head. In the background, a pager goes off. Sydney looks at it quickly. “I’m sorry, I have a consult.”

“Of course, we’ll talk soon.”

Sydney smiles before ending the call. Maggie sits there for a few minutes wondering why it made her both happy and conflicted that Sydney called her at just the right moment.