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glitterandmoondustofficial · 1 year

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Side To Side

Chapter 235: Awkward Lunches

Characters: Ruby Rating: Teen Warnings: Language Notes: And here's the chapter! I was lamenting recently that I wrote some nice explicit Law and Ruby stuff but was nervous to post it here, since I don't post that stuff very often it all. I'm sure there will be those who are interested and those who aren't if you really care let me know! Otherwise it'll stay in my google docs for me to come back to every now and then.

~~~~~~

Ruby sat in a café while holding her latte mug with both hands. She rubbed the painted on flowers with her thumb before sighing. She sat silently as she waited for her lunch to arrive. She stared at her coffee, avoiding eye contact with Tas.

This was so damn awkward.

She glanced up from her coffee and saw him staring at her with his piercing green eyes. Ruby swallowed. She just wanted a nice and quiet lunch, not this nervous mess.

They sat silently across from each other, neither saying a word to cut the tension between them. Ruby brought her latte to her lips and sipped the warm liquid. She sighed after she finished drinking. That was good. She looked up from her mug to see Tas still starting at her intensely.

Holy shit this was awkward.

Luckily, the food arrived soon after and Ruby was sighing in relief. She looked at her tomato and goat cheese quiche and felt her stomach rumble again. She was so hungry. She dug in as soon as the waiter left and almost cried because the food tasted so good.

“So, Duhni mentioned you know how to fight,” Tas started up as soon as she had a mouthful of quiche.

Ruby looked up and swallowed. She cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Why is a skinny woman like you learning how to fight?”

Ruby immediately started to scowl at him. “Why does it matter? I grew up on the Grand Line, isn’t that reason enough?”

“No.”

Ruby scoffed and resumed eating her meal. She was already so cranky because she was hungry. If this guy thought he was going to be an ass to her she needed to fill her stomach before she removed the leader of the authorities in a hungry rage.

Tas sighed. “It doesn’t matter why, I suppose. What matters is you know how to fight and that you can do a good job at it. If you’re strong, that’s what counts.”

“I am. You can be sure of that.” Ruby shoved more food into her mouth. This was such a good quiche. “So what do you need me to do? Storm their base and kill them?”

““Kill?”” Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

“Is it? It seems like they’re destroying livelihoods. They’re disrupting daily life. Stealing things, hurting people, have they not taken anyone’s life before?” Tas didn’t answer. “Sometimes you need to get mean.” She wiped her mouth. “But if you don’t want me to kill them, I won’t. Someone I care about is against killing, too.”

“Your husband?”

Ruby’s lips twitched into a small frown. “Yeah.” She grabbed her ring and fiddled with it nervously. “Something like that.”

A silence grew between them as Ruby anxiously held onto her promise ring. She swallowed and looked down at her quiche. Food. She started to eat her delicious quiche again and started to calm down. This was no time to be anxious or nervous. She had a mission. Actually, it was multiple missions at this point.

Either way she needed energy.

She chewed on her food and looked up at Tas who was rubbing his glass of water with his thumb. “So, how did you become the leader of the local police?”

“Leader?” He questioned. “I’m not the leader.”

“You’re not?” Ruby blinked. “I see. I just assumed since you were giving orders and such you were.”

“No. I’m the captain. There’s the deputy, the assistant chief, and the chief above me.”

“Why aren’t they out doing all of this?” Ruby raised her brow.

“They’re…too busy.”

“They’re too busy to protect the town from recurring attacks?”

Tas hardened up. “When you’re in charge of the peace keeping it takes everything. I won’t have you disrespecting my superiors.”

Ruby raised her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.” She sighed and finished her quiche. The waiter appeared moments later and offered dessert. Which she, of course, accepted. “Alright, so tell me about these assholes. Pirate attacks are easy to figure out. They see a prosperous town on the Grand Line and will do whatever it takes to plunder, but what about these bandits? Tell me about them.”

Tas deflated. He leaned against the back of his chair and sighed. He sipped his water and then poked around at a cherry tomato in his salad. Ruby watched him silently. The waiter came back with her caramel apple tart a la mode. Ruby smelled the apples and felt herself practically drool. She forgot about the question she had asked as she stared at the beautiful dessert.

As soon as Ruby started to dig in, Tas spoke up.

“It’s been going on for years,” he started. “Ever since I was young.” Ruby raised her brow. Tas didn’t look too much older than her. Maybe in his late 20s early 30s. “You’re right about the pirates. The unfortunate thing about living on the Grand Line in this new pirate age is that there’s just so many. They’re like cockroaches. They just don’t die.” Ruby swallowed the food in her mouth nervously. “I tried to join the Navy to fight the pirates that attacked this island but they wanted to ship me off to who knows where so I quit before even basic training. I want to help this island.” Tas clenched his fist and swallowed.

Ruby nodded and took in another spoonful of dessert. She didn’t ask him about his life story but she might as well listen.

“When I realized I could help this island by working with the local authorities I joined immediately. The bandit attacks just got worse over time. They were attacking more frequently – kidnapping people, they were even killing people. And they always knew how to get past the police and guards. We’ve managed to take a couple of them in but they never talk.”

“So, what do you do when they don’t talk?”

“Well, they’re supposed to be locked up and stay that way…”

“But?” Ruby prompted.

“They always manage to escape. The bandits break them free.”

Ruby raised her brow. That’s suspicious, she thought to herself.

“And I take it,” Ruby started after she finished her dessert. “Because you’ve got bandits and pirates, it’s hard to take care of one while dealing with the other. So, if we take out the bandits, that will help you focus on the pirates.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Gotcha.” She wiped her face with her napkin and placed it on the table. The waiter came up to them with the check and started clearing off the table. “So, where do we start? Can you show me a map of where the hideout is? I’m sure I can just go there and kill- I mean defeat them.”

“You’re just going to go there by yourself? We don’t know how many there are or what weapons they have or if any of them have devil fruit powers!”

“Alright, calm down,” Ruby sighed. “Duhni mentioned a diamond mine. I assume that’s what everyone is after?"

“And the crops.”

“The crops?”

“Yes. They’re taking so much food for themselves and leaving none for the citizens. It drives up the price because of scarcity so the poorest people can barely afford to eat and that means…”

“They join the bandits to get food and money. Which means they end up as criminals or, worse, dead. Yep. Makes sense.” She nodded her head. She crossed her arms thoughtfully.

“So, will you help?” Tas spoke up.

Ruby sighed. “Yeah, while I can. I’m on the way to Tamcier. The ship arrives tomorrow and I was told it would leave in about three or four days. So…”

“So, if it’s not finished by then you’ll leave?” He asked defensively.

Ruby barked laughter. “Oh, dear, I’ll have it finished by then, don’t worry. Your bandits don’t have shit on me. They’ll be taken care of before my ship leaves.”

“You sound so confident.”

“If you knew anything about me you’d be confident, too. But you don’t, and I plan on leaving it that way.” Ruby stood up. “Take me to your headquarters. I want all the info you have on these fuckers.”

Tas made an annoyed face. “You curse like a sailor.”

Ruby grinned a large toothy grin. “You’re not the first person to tell me that,” she giggled. “Are you ready to go, or are we just going to sit here and chat all day?”

Tas sighed and placed berries onto the table. He stood up and brushed his legs off. “Let’s go.”

Ruby followed him silently. She looked around as she walked. Now that she looked at it, it did seem like a ritzy city. Definitely one with a diamond mine. She noticed that there were plenty of jewelry stores with all sorts of different prices in the windows. She watched the people. They all seemed pretty…well off. She knew what not well off looked like, that was for sure. She remembered that Law described Flevance before all the genocide once. He talked about White Town and its people. She wondered if this was similar.

Then she noticed the grocery and food stands. She saw the outrageous prices and nearly balked. 20 berries for corn?! Maybe she was just in the rich part of town, but damn! It’s corn! She couldn’t imagine what the price of fruit would be like.

She continued to follow Tas throughout the town towards his headquarters. Despite the attacks everyone seemed to…be okay. It was strange. Have the attacks been so normalized that people just go on with their daily lives? Do they not bother anyone anymore? Perhaps they had given up and just accepted it as a part of life.

It made Ruby uncomfortable.

Tas stopped in front of a building. Ruby stood next to him and stared at it. It was definitely not in her plans for the day to willingly go to the local police station. She didn’t think she had ever willingly gone to one.

“This is it,” Tas said. “Come on. Follow me.” He walked through the door.

Ruby sighed before following him into the building. She immediately stopped once in the building and looked around. It definitely looked like a police station. It made her skin crawl. All this helping the town out almost made her forget that she hated these people. She wanted to be back on her pirate ship.

It seemed pretty empty, but she supposed that most of the officers must be out doing whatever duties they had or were helping that restaurant after the attack. That was probably for the best. Ruby didn’t want to be around them. The less time she had to spend around the police the better, she was already so awkward in here. She felt like she was 19 again and getting in trouble for public intoxication or some shit like that.

“Are you coming?” Tas spoke up with a raised brow.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” Ruby walked up to him. Ruby adjusted the purse on her shoulder and stared up at him. She didn’t realize how tall he actually was until she had a moment to think about it. He was taller than Law! She cocked her head. “Are we going?”

Tas blinked at her before swiftly turning away and clearing his throat. “Yes. Let’s go.”

Ruby followed Tas into an office. Tas walked behind the desk and sat at the chair. Ruby followed suit and sat in the chair in front of the desk. She sat silently and awkwardly as Tas stared at his desk. Ruby shifted and held her purse in her lap. She bounced her leg anxiously as Tas just sat there.

“Uh, the info?” Ruby finally found her voice to speak up.

Tas looked up at her and blushed. “Right, sorry. I got lost in my thoughts.” He sighed and opened a drawer. He stared at it and pulled out a file. He threw it down onto the desk with a “plop” and looked back up to her.

Ruby raised her brow. “A single file?” She questioned.

“People have died getting this information.”

��Sure, but you said this has been happening for years. I just figured there would be more information.” She leaned back into the chair.

Tas glared at her. Ruby didn’t falter. She just stared at him. He didn’t scare her, and he was barely a challenge. He needed to check his attitude if he thought she was going to continue to help him.

Tas deflated after a moment. “As I said, people died over this information. Whenever there was someone with good intel they’d disappear or end up dead. And then if we did manage to save some info, the bandits who were captured managed to get a hold of it when they escaped.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes. S o not only are the bandits somehow escaping, they’re also getting the info that the authorities manage to scrounge up? “Why haven’t they gotten this stuff?”

“Because only me and one other person know this is here.”

Ruby’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Ruby stared at him stunned. “Why…are you letting me see it then? Aren’t you worried that I’ll, like, sell this information?”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll just have to believe you. I need someone capable of saving my island. If you can do it, you can have any resource you can.”

Ruby reached over to the file. She opened it and stared at what was in it. Some photos and profiles mostly. She crossed her leg and sighed.

“Tas,” she heard a calm voice from the doorway. “Who’s this?”

Ruby turned to look at the person interrupting her thoughts. She saw another tall man with a buzz cut and ridiculous blue eyes. He was buff and all dressed up in uniform. She looked at the stupid medals on his chest and felt herself roll her eyes. This man was the guy in charge.

“This is Elissa,” Tas said. “She’s volunteered to help out with the Nine Lives.”

That's a stupid name for the bandits. What are they, Minks? Ruby thought to herself and ignored the two men. She held the file in her hands and rubbed it with her thumbs.

“Help?” The old man questioned. “And what can you do that we already haven’t?” He addressed Ruby.

Ruby raised her brow and opened her mouth but Tas responded first.

“She's the one who took care of those pirates at the docks earlier today. By herself. Sir.”

“I dunno if it was totally by myself. Duhni did take one down, afterall.”

Tas stared at her annoyed. Ruby just grinned.

“How did you take down a group of pirates by yourself?” The old man spoke up.

Ruby opened her mouth again but Tas interrupted again. Ruby huffed.

“She has devil fruit powers.”

“I can speak for myself,” Ruby grumbled.

The old man stared at her with an intense gaze. Ruby didn’t back down. She stared up at the man, challenging him to send her away. Men in positions of power always had no problem throwing around their authority over others to get their way, and she didn’t doubt that this man was like that. They always were.

The man sighed and ran his hand over his face. The action seemed to make him look older and greyer. Ruby shifted.

“Do you think she can do this without Lucian knowing?”

Ruby rose her brows.

“I don’t know,” Tas said. “Elissa, this is Hanzi, he’s the deputy.”

“Oh.” Ruby said out loud. “I thought you were the one in charge.”

Hanzi laughed. “No. Never made it that far, but also not interested in it.” He looked at her hands. “I see that you didn’t waste time giving the pretty girl the information,” he teased Tas.

Tas’s pale face blushed red. “Th-that’s not-! That isn’t what-!!” Tas continued to stutter.

Hanzi laughed. “He’s fun to tease,” he looked at Ruby. “Elissa?” He tested her name out. Ruby nodded. “Well, I definitely don’t mind the help, if you’re capable. Which, based on your biceps, I’d say you are.”

Ruby blinked and looked at her arms. That’s right. She had started to work out hard again once she had decided to go to Dressrosa. Law didn’t think anything of it at the time, but once he agreed to let her go he realized the reason behind her exercise routine.

“Hanzi, that’s impolite to say to a woman!” Tas said, still blushing.

Hanzi laughed. “Is it?”

Ruby blinked and relaxed. These two seemed fine. They didn’t make any alarms go off in her head, at least. She paused for a moment, thinking over their conversation.

“Who is Lucian?” She asked bluntly.

Tas and Hanzi looked at each other before looking back to Ruby. “Lucian is the chief,” Tas said. “He is…strict.”

“He’s an ass,” Hanzi said.

“Han!”

Hanzi rolled his eyes. “It’s best if you never meet him, darling.” He said “darling” just endearing enough to let her know he wasn’t being condescending. “In fact, it’s probably best you get out of here, he’ll be coming back soon from his lunch.”

“Oh.” Ruby blinked. “Yeah, okay. I definitely don’t want to run into an asshole.”

“He’s not- oh, nevermind,” Tas groaned. Ruby stood up and started to hand over the file to him. Tas took it thoughtfully. “I’d give this to you to look over but it’s the precious few information we have and, to be completely honest, I don’t fully trust you yet.”

“Fair enough.” Ruby shrugged.

“We’ll meet up tomorrow and go over this more. Not in this office but somewhere else.”

“Oh, perfect, you can buy me lunch again.” Ruby grinned widely and Hanzi laughed at Tas’s shocked face.

“You walked right into that one, Tas. Now you can’t turn this sweet lady down.”

Ruby’s grin widened. She was starting to enjoy these two.

“Fine. Seems I have no choice in this. Where would you like to meet?”

“I don’t know anything about this town, I just arrived today.”

“Right. Meet me at…The Roostery tomorrow around noon. You remember where that is?” Ruby nodded. “Good.”

“The Roostery, huh?” Hanzi scratched his chin. “I think I will join you two, seeing I’m already involved. How’s that sound, darling?”

Ruby snorted. “That’s fine.”

Ruby left the office quickly, really not wanting to meet this Lucian person. Just because Tas and Hanzi were entertaining didn't mean the rest of these police weren’t awful. It’s just like the marines. Just because Jun and Duhni don’t seem so bad didn't mean the marines weren't full of jackasses.

She walked far enough away from the police station and found a bench to sit on. She sighed and leaned back. This definitely wasn’t what Ruby’s trip to Dressrosa was supposed to be like. She looked in front of her at the fancy fountain with the marble statue. This really was such a rich town, she definitely understood why all these raids and attacks were happening. Not that innocent people deserved that and all.

Ruby wondered if she had been younger what she would have done in such a town like this. What road would she have taken? She sighed again. She was glad she was who she was now. She really didn’t look back on herself fondly.

She looked around the area she was in and noticed a small bookstore tucked away in a corner. She stood up and immediately walked towards it. After she found some books she would find a bakery and get some croissants to snack on. She was going to spend the rest of her day relaxing.

She was going to need it.

#op fanfic #one piece #lawxoc #law x oc #trafalgar law #one piece fanfiction #side to side #sela ruby #ruby sela #it ended up being long but i just didn't feel satisfied to end it and that's why this took so long to get out

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callmemaeverick · 2 years

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The First of Firsts [Master Chief x Reader]

AN: I would like to dedicate this to @dayane245love because her ask gave me the kick I needed to write this fic. She requested for me to give Reader a name, so for you, Dayane and whoever preferred to read this fic as John x OFC, you can read it on AO3

Warning: This is so full of cheese, if you’re lactose intolerant DNI…. Kidding 🤭..

This is part III of Soldier Sweet series. Read part ii here

You didn't expect to see John that night, wandering out of the massive base, his face dazed and somewhat confused. After the last few days, with him going AWOL after that mission in Madrigal, you would have thought that Halsey would have wanted to keep him on a tighter leash. He was, after all, her favorite.

You had been beside yourself with worry when you found out what had happened. In the months since John brought your earring back to you, since he volunteered to help you with your tour, you had became friends of sort. But trying to get answers on how he was doing was next to impossible and you could tell that the events had left Halsey and the higher ups on edge. Apparently, a Spartan is technically incapable of going rogue. And this was a first.

Shouldering your bag strap over your shoulder, you decided to approach him.

It was still an adjustment, seeing his face. You haven’t been around Spartans as much as the soldiers as your work tend to keep you indoors, so seeing him out of armor is a novelty. He was handsome, you had to admit. The strong jaw, the intense green eyes. You remembered the way his naked gaze fell on you, burning your skin, feeling it even when he had his helmet on. You would only admit to yourself, though, that feeling his eyes following you made butterflies flit in your stomach.

He stood still in the middle of a sea of soldiers, head tilted up watching the skies as if it was the first time he was truly seeing it. Judging from what you have heard of the Spartan program, it was very likely the truth.

"It's beautiful, huh?"

John swiveled around and even standing two steps above him, you were still about a few inches shorter. You gave him a smile. "Hiya."

xxxx

John felt his stomach swoop as if he was doing a barrel roll in the Condor. It was the first time he had seen you since he got back from the Rubble and Madrigal and… he didn't remember you being so beautiful. Everything about you was suddenly so much more captivating to him. When previously he liked the way you smiled, the way the colors you wore made you stand out in a drab crowd, now… now you were positively breathtaking.

Even your name sounded better on his tongue.

"How are you, John?" You asked, stepping down to his side. "You gave us all quite a fright."

He looked down at you and wondered if you were scared of him or for him. "I… was going through some things." He told you truthfully, meeting your eyes. "But I think I'm better now."

His eyes noticed the slight redness creeping up your cheeks and the way you averted your gaze from him. He wondered what it meant.

Discreetly, he took you in. He had never seen you outside of your lab coat before and he was liking what he was seeing. The simple shirt you had on and the slim-fitting jeans complimented your shape perfectly. The brightly coloured highlights in your hair stood stark contrast again its natural colours and his fingers twitched to touch them.

“John, your heart rate is elevated.” Cortana chimed in his ear. “And your body temperature just rose. Are you…anxious?”

"Are you going somewhere?" He asked you, ignoring the Al.

"Oh, I'm just heading home. In the city."

"Can I walk you?"

"All the way to the city?"

"Yes."

"…Okay,"

xxxx

You didn't know why you immediately agreed, but you did know you felt safe with John. In the limited time you spent with him, he gave you no indication that made you suspect any ill intentions. In fact, all his interactions with you felt truthful, genuine, and it made him all the more endearing to you.

The two of you walked in companiable silence towards the train station. From time to time you would tell him little snippets of your daily journeys to and from work. You’d tell him which coffee stand made the best latte, which bagel stand is your favorite and all the while, John took it all in.

Something was different with him, but it was not a bad different. He seemed unusually curious, and dare you say it, interested in everything around him. It was not something you were aware of about Spartans. As far as you knew, they were unfeeling and stoic, almost robotic. But seeing John, open-faced and wide-eyed in wonder made you rethink what you knew.

Standing across from him in the train, you watched him eye the young couple further down the car. They were cozy with each other, giggling softly at whispered words, totally unaware of the world around them and totally in love. You watched John and wonder if he is capable of love, if he feels the pull to be close to someone.

"John?"

He turned to you. "Hm?"

"It’s rude to stare,” You teased playfully and giggled when the tips of his ears turned bright red. You just made the Master Chief flush. Chuckling, you moved until you were beside him, leaning against the car wall and his arm. “What’s going on, big guy? You seemed… I don’t know, confused, like you’re lost.”

The man beside you sighed. He glanced at the couple once more before turning to you. That’s when he told you about the pellet.

xxxx

He didn’t know why he didn’t even hesitate, but he knew he trusted you. He was trained to have sharp instincts and it hadn’t failed him before. And his instincts about you are good. He felt light with you, lighter now without the pellet. You look at him without any expectations of who he had to be. You look at him like he’s John. Just John.

By the time he finished, the train had arrived at Tchakova Park and you were looking at him like you were seeing him in a brand new light.

“Okay, so you’re saying that you’re experiencing this,” You waved your hand around. “All of this, for the first time?”

He raised an eyebrow at you and you laughed.

“Oh my God! Then, you need to see this!”

Without warning, you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a well-lit park across the street.

The warmth of your skin against his calloused palms were jarring to him, and John felt his breath catch in the cold air. Still, he let himself be pulled by you. The closer you got to the park, the more aware he was of the lilting sounds traveling from the center of it.

As you slowed to a walk, you grinned up to him, navigating through the throng of people until you reached an arena-like stage of some sort. And in the middle of it, were two musicians putting in a show.

He froze as he watched them, as the music washed over him. It was beautiful, haunting and it filled him up with foreign feelings. He glanced at you beside him and saw that you had your eyes closed, head tilted slightly upwards as the last drizzle of the night’s rain fell on your face.

Cortana’s inquiring voice was soft in his ear. "Is this why you’ve removed your pellet? So you could hear things differently?"

Maybe. He thought. Maybe just wanted to hear it the way you do.

xxxx

You felt his gaze on you like flames dancing on your skin, but you did your best to shrug it off as you opened one eye to catch him. Ignoring the heat in your cheeks, you gave him a teasing smile.

“John, you’re staring again.”

He blinked and quickly turned. “Sorry.”

You shook your head, endeared at this new person before your eyes. Here was a man, trained and honed to be one of the most effective soldiers in the galaxy, and he couldn’t stop staring at you in wonder.

“You should be listening.” You chided lightly. “Here,” Climbing onto one of the seats behind him, you asked if it’s okay to touch him. At his nod, you guided him to face the show by his shoulders. Then, slowly, you placed your hands over his eyes. Leaning over, you whispered in his ear. “Breathe. Listen.”

He stiffened for a second at your words, but relaxed gradually. You knew exactly you had gotten him where you wanted him when he sighed and his straight shoulders slumped for the first time, probably ever.

When the set ended, you gently released him from your hold, letting him blink off the onslaught of bright lights. You were smiling so wide when you caught the dazed look on his face.

He turned to face you.

“Thank you. That was… that was beautiful.”

There was no hiding the blush that rose up your face at his declaration, but you nodded. “I’m glad you got to experience it.” You turned to hop off the seat, when his hand caught yours, stopping you.

Seemingly surprised at his own actions, John faltered.

“No. It’s okay. You can touch me.” You assured him. He had trusted you and you want to repay it in kind.

Nodding, he stared at your hand in his, engulfed completely. His thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth over your skin, the action almost hypnotizing.

You didn’t want to rush him, knowing how overwhelming new sensations can be.

He looked up to you, something you knew he’d never had to do before. His eyes scanned your face before his hand left yours.

The feel of his touch skittering over your cheek almost made you gasp, but you held his gaze. There was a question there, something he wanted answered.

“Can I kiss you?”

Deep down, you knew that that was the question, but it still floored you that he’d asked. Biting your lips, you nodded.

He leaned in slow, halting and hesitant. His hand cupped your face oh so gently, as if any more force would break you. Never in your life someone handled you so delicately.

When your lips met, your eyes immediately closed as tingles shot straight to your toes. Your hands came up to his face, fingers lightly scratching the stubble there. It was sweet and somehow innocent for a man of John’s stature and reputation.

When you part, you registered that the world was still revolving, not halted like you felt it did. Catching yourself before anything embarrassing happened, you blinked at him.

“Was that your first kiss?” You whispered, soft, secretive.

John licked his lips. “Yes. Sorry, I-“

“No. No.” You cut him off, smiling. You took his hand that was still resting at your cheek with both of yours, sharing warmth. “I’m honored, John.”

It was by no means the best kiss you’ve ever had. But you didn’t care because at that moment, for what seemed to be the first time in a long long time, you were given another honor. The honor of seeing the Master Chief smile.

FIN

Tagging: @redpool @weirdodreamergirl @violinchick @ageless-aislynn @lialacleaf

I'm not sure if I missed anyone. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the comments, so I can keep track. Also if you wanna be taken off. :)

#halo #halo paramount+#master chief #master chief x reader #master chief imagines #john 117 #john 117 x reader #john 117 imagines #pablo schreiber #pablo schreiber imagines #halo tv #halo paramount spoilers #mav's posts

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change-the-world-someday · 3 years

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I'll Be Here

Oh boy I'm back baby. Here's a Derek Shepherd x Teen!reader bc I just started Grey's Anatomy. I'm well aware I've had stuff in my inbox for over a year, and frankly I'll get round to them soon. I hope this tides you over.

Derek Shepherd x Teen!Reader

Summary: Who'd have thought the child of Derek Shepherd would suffer with something even he can't cure?

A/N: I've been twitching a lot lately so this was a comfort write. Derek and Meredith don't have a relationship, and there's a bit of canon divergence.

⚠️TW⚠️ Talk and descriptions of twitching/tics

—•—

You knew the moment you woke up you were going to have a bad day.

Your alarm went off at the bright and early nine and as you made a move to turn it off, your arm twitched, almost pushing it off your nightstand. You let out a sigh, leaning down and managing to shut it off and sit up.

Until you neck starts to snap left and right, tensing and relaxing each muscle.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, standing and stretching, well, as much as you can before your twitches start up again. You makes your way downstairs, finding an empty kitchen and a note on the counter. You manage to pick it up and read it.

Sorry, I got called in today. Let me know when you’re up

— Dad

You shake your head, whistling and shaking your hands. Great, so you're alone on a day where your twitches are worse than normal. You sigh and head back upstairs, almost losing balance on the stairs, and takes a quick shower before trying to style your hair. With difficulty, you get changed before reaching over and grabbing your phone. You grip it tightly, until it’s flung across the room.

“Shit,” you mumble, reaching down and picking it up. You open your messages, trying to text your dad.

Y/N

Hi, up. Bad today

It’s short, and to the untrained eye, might seem pretty rude, but to you and your dad, is a warning. Heading back to the kitchen, you try to eat a bowl of cereal. Instead, you managed to spill the cereal twice, drop milk on the floor, and then poke yourself in the side of the face a few times with your spoon instead of eating.

Your phone buzzes.

Dad

Do you need me at

home?

Y/N

No. Just bad

Dad

Do you want to come

to the hospital? You

can stay in one of the

offices if you want

You think about it for a moment, though you don’t get too long before your phone starts ringing. You pick up.

“Hi—” you whistle “—hi Dad.”

You hear him sigh. “Hey kid. Do you want to come in today? I can make sure no one stops you and you can come straight to the office.”

You click, your neck jerking forward. “You sure? I’ve—“ you whistle “—never been there before. I don’t want—“ you click “—to become a case study.”

Your dad laughs lightly down the phone. “I won’t let them. Just make your way over, and keep your earphones in. Music helps.”

You nod, before your neck twitches to the side and cracks, making your dad wince audibly. “Okay. I’ll let you know—“ you whistle and sigh, clearly getting frustrated with yourself.

“I get it. Don’t work yourself up; it’ll only make it worse. See you soon. Love you.”

A ghost of a smile passes across your face. “Love you too, Dad.”

—•—

Derek hangs up and leaves the store cupboard, almost bumping into Dr Bailey as she marches past.

“Watch where you’re going, McDreamy,” she scolds and Derek smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Bailey narrows her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Y'N's coming here. They're having a bad day,” he replies and Bailey nods, immediately catching on. “No one else knows.”

Surprisingly enough, you haven’t met anyone from Derek’s work, except for Bailey and even then, that was an accident. You'd bumped into her on a bad day and Derek had to explain what was wrong. Ever since, Bailey’s had a soft spot for you.

“Not even the chief?” She asks and Derek shakes his head. “Did you warn them?” He nods. “Well, there’s not much else you can do.”

“They're texting me when they’re a few minutes away. If I get caught in surgery, can you meet them at the doors please?”

The two stop in the corridor, Bailey pulling him over. “I have my own schedule too, Shepherd.”

Derek nods. “I know, but you’re the only other person here they know, and you know how they can get in places they don’t know…”

Bailey looks around. “If you’re caught up, you owe me one.”

Derek smiles and nods, a look of relief on his face. “Thank you.”

—•—

You're walking down the street to the hospital, constantly readjusting your earphones so they don’t fall out. Your neck keeps snapping to the side and jerking forward, earning a few odd looks from strangers. You sigh, a few minutes away from the hospital, and pull out your phone. Before you can do anything, though, you promptly throw your phone on the pavement.

Thank god your dad bought you one of those industrial phone cases. You pick it up, dodging people as you go to call your dad. He picks up after two rings.

“Hi, I’m—“ you click “—a minute away.”

“Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be able to meet you at the doors. Just walk through, take the stairs to the fifth floor, and come down the hall. I’ll be in the break room, second door on the left.”

Your eyes widen; you're going to be by yourself? Walking through a hospital? Where no one knows you?

“O-Okay,” you stammer out and your dad sighs.

“I’m sorry kid. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hangs up and you take a breath, nodding to yourself. You pocket your phone and turn your music up as loud as it can be. Your dad was right, it does ease your twitching, though not as much as you'd like.

Fall Out Boy blasts through your earphones as you walk through the doors of Seattle Grace. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, your neck twitch making it a lot easier to achieve. You click as you make your way to the stairwell, making your way up.

You don’t hear the calls of concerns from the interns following you, trying to catch up to you.

By the time you reach the fifth floor, the two interns have gone to find Dr Bailey to try and assist them, and Dr Shepherd who can help with the disorder being presented. They haven’t had someone who needs medical attention blatantly ignore them and go to a certain department before.

You lose your balance a little as you walk through the doors to the fifth floor, your neck jerking left and right repeatedly, muscles tensing and relaxing. Your hands are shaking and you walk like a new fawn.

You reach the door and push it open, whistling and clicking as you do so. At least you can see your dad today.

—•—

Derek knows immediately what kind of day is happening when you steps into the room. You're a jerking mess, neck and shoulders tensing and relaxing as though given electric shocks. You're whistling, clicking, and your eyes have recently started screwing shut, temporarily blinding you.

And that’s with your headphones in.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets, gently taking one earbud out of your ear and leading you to the seats. At least if you're sat, you have less of a chance of hurting yourself.

“Hi Dad,” you reply until a whistle comes back out. “S-Sorry.”

“Hey,” Derek places a firm but kind hand on your shoulder, “don’t apologise. None of this is your fault.” There’s a silence between you two, only broken by the sound coming from the removed earphone. “Fall Out Boy? Nice choice.”

Your neck snaps but you give a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you want something to eat? Did you manage to get some breakfast?” You sigh, your hands twitching and trembling, which tells Derek everything he needs to know. “Is it a bomb-site there?”

You shake your head. “I managed—“ you whistle “—to clean up. Took ages.” Your neck jerks forward. Derek sighs, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. You've always been wary; you never want to hurt your dad accidentally but Derek doesn’t care. You're his kid, and nothing will change that.

“You’re okay. Do you want some lunch? We can go to the cafeteria—they’ve got some pizza in there that’s actually pretty good.”

You nod, knowing anything you try to say will be interrupted by one of your twitches. You walk alongside Derek, trying your hardest to suppress your twitching as you make your way through the hospital and into to lift, where a few others are going to different floors. Derek notices, and leans into your ear. “You don’t have to hide it here, kid. Promise.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief from you as you let out a scatter of twitches, your neck jerking forward as you whistle and click. Your hands shake and flap and you let it all go. A few of the doctors and nurses turn around to look at you, but one harsh glare from Dr Shepherd makes them all go back to minding their own business.

You exit the lift and walk through the corridors to the cafeteria. You join the queue and you feel Derek keep an arm around you, trying to help you ease your twitches. You're grateful, though you both know there isn’t much either of you can do to stop them. You sigh, putting your earphones back in and blasting some music, this time Hozier.

Derek watches you struggle, sympathy panging through his heart. He hates that you've been cursed with this, and the worst part is they can’t find anything that’s causing it. It’s not like there’s a tumour or growth on your brain Dr Shepherd can operate on, you're just stuck with it.

“Dr Shepherd, good afternoon. Who’s this?” Lindsey, the server behind the food counter, greets. Derek smiles.

“Afternoon Lindsey. This is my kid, Y/N. They're joining me at the hospital today,” he explains, gently tapping you on the shoulder and causing you to take an earphone out. “Y/N, this is Lindsey.”

“Hi,” you greet, before your neck jerks forward yet again, cracking. The two adults give a wince and Lindsey gives you a small smile.

“What would you like, hun?” She asks. You look over, or does so as best you can. You can barely stay still long enough to read the menu. “We have a standard pizza or pepperoni pizza today. We also have some ham, chicken, or cheese sandwiches and salads. Or a few pastries we can heat up if you’d prefer.”

You give her a grateful smile. “Can I—“ you whistle “—have pepperoni please? And a—“ you click “—bottle of water?”

“Sure thing, and you Dr Shepherd?”

You put your earphones back in, trying your hardest to stop twitching. The problem is, the more you try to stop it, the worse it gets. It takes a few minutes for you to get your food, and when you do, Derek carries both trays to a table and sets them down. He takes a seat opposite you, giving a small smile.

“Thanks Dad,” you thank, pulling one earphone out so you can hear the conversation. You pick up the plastic fork and spear a few chips, but before you can eat them, your hand twitches and you throw it on the floor. You sigh but before either you or your dad can make a move to pick it up, someone else does it for you.

“You better be more careful. I don’t want fries on my shoes.” You recognise that voice anywhere, and smile as you look up at Dr Bailey. You let out a small laugh.

“Hi Dr Bailey,” you greet, whistling as your head snaps to the side and back. She smiles at you.

“Heard you were coming and through I’d say hello.”

—•—

“Guys, shut up,” Cristina hisses. “Do you see?”

“See what?” George asks as they quieten down. She nods her head and the table of interns turn around to catch sight of what’s going on. Dr Bailey is talking Dr Shepherd… and you sat with them. You're not dressed in any kind of hospital gown, nor are you wearing scrubs, so who are you? And how are you making Dr Bailey smile?

Meredith watches, catching sigh of your hair, and her eyes widen. She reaches over, slapping George on the arm.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s them,” she replies, “the person from earlier. Y’know, the one who didn’t check in at reception and took the stairs. The one who ignored us!”

George’s eyes widen too, and the two get up and start to walk over, ignoring the protests of Cristina and Izzie as they reach the table. You're struggling to get a sentence out, whistling and clicking as you try to tell Dr Shepherd about something.

“Dr Shepherd!” Meredith calls out, making the conversation halt between you. “Are you with a patient?”

She misses how you cringe. Dr Shepherd frowns, which only deepens more at the crack in your neck as it jerks forward. “Dr Grey, Dr O’Malley, how can I help?”

“W-We saw, erm, this kid walk straight through and up to neurology without checking in. Do you want us to check them in and get a better examination? We were going to come to you for a consult when we saw them anyway, but since you already seem to know them…” George trails off and Dr Shepherd looks between you, the interns, and Dr Bailey.

An awkward silence falls between you, only disturbed by the occasional whistle or click from you. “I can get a wheelchair if it’s easier.”

“No need,” Dr Shepherd cuts in. “They aren’t a patient, their name’s Y/N. They're my kid and they're accompanying me to work today.” The two interns look at each other, mortified. “Now, if you excuse us, we were just having lunch.”

Your hand flexes again, making you throw your fork on the floor (the second one in the space of fifteen minutes) and sigh. You go to pick it up, only for George to beat you to it. “Here.”

“Than—“ you click as your head jerks forward “Thank you.”

“Don’t you two have places to be?” Bailey asks, less than impressed with her two interns in front of her. They both nod and scurry off, back to their table to tell Cristina and Izzie about Dr McDreamy’s kid.

—•—

“I don’t know how they cope with it,” George muses as the group of four interns sit on some beds in the back corridor, waiting to be paged for something.

“Yeah, twitching all the time. God, I’d kill myself if I had them,” Izzie continues. “Would ruin my chances at both medicine and modelling. And a lot of other things, probably.”

“Do you think they wanted to go into medicine? Y’know, before they started twitching? Or have they always had it?” Cristina asks. “Or do they have a tumour?”

“For your information,” a voice cuts in, making all four jump and turn to the source, meeting the likes of Dr Shepherd, “Y/N wants to be a lawyer.” He walks down the corridor to them, everyone’s cheeks turning red a the prospect of being caught gossiping. “The tics developed about eighteen months ago, just before we moved to Seattle. It’s not a tumour, or any kind of swelling; in fact, we have no clue what set it off.”

“Have you done an MRI? CT?” Meredith suggests and Derek nods.

“We ran everything. It all came back clean.” He looks at Cristina. “They did want to be a doctor. When we realised we couldn’t cure them, they were upset for weeks. They—“

“Talking about me?” A voice calls down the corridor and Derek’s face splits into a smile, something that doesn’t go amiss by the others. You whistle, making it to the group and taking a seat next to your dad. You lean on him… until your neck twitches and you almost fall back. Derek’s hand shoots out, supporting you.

“We were just—“ Izzie tries to say before you cut her off, clicking in the process.

“Let me guess.” You whistle. “The doctor que—“ you click “—question and how I live with—“ your neck jerks to the side “—it.”

Your dad gives you a smile. “Ten out of ten for you,” he smiles. You nod.

“Well, I used to want to—“ you click “—be a doctor, until we found out this is incurable.” You whistle. “Pretty soul-crushing.” Your neck jerks back, and if it wasn’t for your dad’s hand, you would’ve hit the wall. “And we’ve learned to adapt to it. There are—“ you click “—days where I’m fine, with only a few, and days—“ you whistle and everyone can feel the frustration radiating off you. Still, no one chooses to finish your sentence, letting you get it out yourself “—like this.”

—•—

For a while, the six make general conversation, until, slowly but surely, you start to drift off. It isn’t until there’s an odd silence that Derek notices, and he has a smile on his face as he looks down at you, asleep on his shoulder.

“They look so… peaceful,” Izzie comments quietly, the others agreeing.

“Yeah. We’ve had a few rough days this week. God knows they need the rest,” Derek mutters. He shifts to look between the four. “Any of you wake them, I’ll make sure you’re banned from the OR for a month.”

Everyone’s eyes widen as they nod in unison; they’re all begging for a chance at more surgery. Carefully, Derek manoeuvres you so your head’s lying in his lap, body stretched out on the hospital bed. He carefully cards his fingers through your hair, detangling it as gently as he can.

The interns’ pagers go off, assigning them jobs and the four rush off, leaving Derek and you to rest. He smiles, getting himself comfortable sitting on the end of the bed, back against the wall.

“Get some rest, buddy. I’ll always be here for you.”

—•—

Hope y'all enjoyed. I know it's pretty different from what I usually write, but this is for my own comfort so...

Sorry not sorry

Taglist

@breadsticks2004 @criminalsmarts @rororo06@ogmilkis@ssebstann@herecomesthewriterwitch @garcias-batcave @spidey-reids-2003 @lovelylaurens@sataninsatin@snarky--starky @mcntsee @averyhotchner @dindjarinsspouse @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love

#derek shepherd #teen reader #Derek Shepherd x teen reader #Derek Shepherd x reader #platonic #tics #twitches #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #greys anatomy

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Traffic Lights Are Burnin’

[Read on AO3]

Written in honor of @nebluus‘s birthday! She asked for some WFB, and of the options I gave she chose the next part of our Six Flags saga...only the beginning scene of that chapter ended up ballooning out into this so...it ended up being less Amusement Park Shenanigans and more Wholesome Boys Will Be Boys Content. I’M SURE MADI WILL BE JUST FINE WITH THAT TOO 😂

“Are you making an omelette?”

English is not, functionally, Mitsuhide’s first language. Not that he thinks of it like that-- first or second, third or fourth; there’s no ranking in his life, no moment in which one language followed another. There was English with Mama and quebecois with Papa; a plan quickly scuttled by Mitsuhide being the fifth Lowen sibling. Refusing to be pigeonholed into a single language no matter how many times Mama repeated consistency is key, his brothers mostly spoke a tossed salad of both and assumed he’d understand the lettuce.

Coupled with the fact that all his cousins lived in Toronto anyway, Mitsuhide had hardly begun talking himself before it became outside quebecois and inside English. Unless they left the province, in which case it was a free-for-all that left his few monolingual aunts and uncles dizzy.

Which is to say, Mitsuhide only becomes aware of the precise inner ranking of his languages in moments like this, where gut immediately kicks out a dry ‘j’essaie.’ The translation is vetoed on the grounds that although in quebecois he’s never met a word he couldn’t steep in sarcasm and smuggle in a sacre, he prefers to keep his English so clean it squeaks.

You’ve got it all backwards, Kihal had told him as he sweltered under the San Juan sun, English is fake, you can be as much of an asshole as you want it in, it doesn’t count.

It’s true, there’s something that’s more real to him in French, that’s more real about him, but, well-- there were far fewer cousins to tattle on his potty mouth this way. And now that he knows Obi...

Well, if Kiki ever made good on her threats to teach him any of his “church swears,” he’d probably never sleep easy again. So instead, he scrolls through his mental rolodex of possible appropriate replies before settling on, “Would you like one?”

Zen glances up from his array of pamphlets, glossy paper glaring beneath the overhead lamp. It matches the way Zen is looking at him. “We don’t have time for that.”

Mitsuhide frowns, giving his eggs one last vigorous whisk before pouring them into the pan. “There’s always time for breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

He glances over just in time to see Zen’s grimace. “Shirayuki really could be your sister.”

There’s really no reason he has to look so horrified by the idea. His brothers may all be broad shouldered, barrel-chested giants, but plenty of his cousins made pocket money in high school through catalogue modeling. And they’re all very nice girls.

He doesn’t mention it. A conversation never ends well if you have to whip out photos of female relatives to prove your point. “Would you like one?” he repeats instead, a safer tactic overall.

Zen’s nose wrinkles beneath some dubiously drawn eyebrows. “Are you putting spinach in there?”

“Kale,” he agrees. “And chicken.”

“In a breakfast omelette?” He clucks his tongue, just the way the Wisteria’s chef would when he attempted to cook at the estate. Quel dommage, he would say, sighing over the cutting board, why would you do that to perfectly good eggs? “Why would you do that?”

Because these muscles don’t come cheap; Mitsuhide chokes down a truly staggering amount of chicken in order to keep them. Roasted, of course-- boiled is technically better for protein, but even he has to draw the line somewhere. The eggs have less, but they are calorie efficient; he’d eat more of them if he could stomach the slimy, snake-like sensation of swallowing them down hard boiled.

But explaining his diet regime usually ended with glazed eyes, so he settles for, “I could always put something different in yours. There’s ham.”

Fancy ham, Obi calls it. It’s just from the deli counter, fresh sliced from whatever quality cut’s on sale, but considering how the first time Obi saw a charcuterie board, he shouted, Oh, Lunchables!--

Well, Mitsuhide can accept that maybe they have different benchmarks for fancy. And somehow just the simple act of calling it that does make it taste better. Or at least more satisfying when it’s shoved between a Hawaiian roll and deli cheese.

There’s a soft shuffle by the kitchen door, and a wild thatch of bristle peeps around the frame. Mitsuhide shakes his head with huff. That’s a new one-- just think the devil’s name and he appears.

Obi lopes into the kitchen, all long limbs and smooth movements, blurring right into the background without any effort at all. He’d gotten Mitsuhide a few times when he’d first moved in, popping up wherever it was sure to be the most inconvenient, grinning like a cat with feathers in its teeth. But once you knew the trick of it, well-- it’s no effort to keep the kid in his sights.

Which is why he has a full, uninterrupted view when Obi slips right up to Zen’s elbow, and asks, “Whatcha doing, chief?”

“Wah!” Pamphlets fly up, a glittering flock of wings swooping beneath the lamp. Zen slaps them down before they can skitter off the table’s edge. “Obi! Make noise for fuck’s sake!”

“Sorry,” he sing-songs, not a sincere note in it. Two long fingers pluck a pamphlet off the wood, twisting it between them. “What’s all this? They starting to put theme parks on exams now?”

“No.” Zen scowls, snatching it out of his hands. “I’m just making today’s itinerary.”

Mitsuhide slides his omelette onto a plate, turning just in time to catch the glance Obi sends him. It somehow says is he fucking with me while also implying I’ll hold him down if we gotta send him to the doctor. “An itinerary?”

He leans a hip against the island, fishing out a fork. What was it Obi always said? Dinner tastes better with a show. Time to find out whether it extends to breakfast too.

Zen fixes Obi with a look that could have had trenches with all its affront. “You can’t go to an amusement park without a plan. How else do you get on all the coasters?”

“It’s only Six Flags New England.” A week ago, the name alone made Obi flee like a cat from a bath, but now every syllable drips with derision, like a sommelier reviewing boxed wine. “They’ve got what? Superman?”

Mitsuhide shoves a corner of his omelette in his mouth. It’s not as good as a sausage, mushroom, and cheese, but, well, it’ll do. “Bizarro.”

“Bizarro.” Obi scoffs. “See? Nothing. Besides, I thought you were the kind of guy to spring for fast passes, boss.”

Zen’s always been sensitive; the sort of kid who tended to pop off when a situation came to a simmer instead of trying to turn down the heat. When Izana had been sitting president, he’s spent half his tenure fielding tense calls, sometimes even climbing into a towncar at a moment’s notice to be taken back east. The school, he’s always say, lifting a shoulder, my brother is proving to be a challenge, and my mother is...unreachable.

He’d thought this Zen kid must be like the ones he knew on the ice, punching first and asking questions later, complaining about being put in the box. All temper and no temperance, Mama used to say when she drove him home, can’t talk when you got plastic between your teeth.

But then he’d met him, undersized and stick-limbed, living in that house with people paid to be invisible. A kid with too much on his shoulders and too many eyes to watch him stumble under it. He’s come a long way from there.

So when Zen squirms in his chair, red already starting to lick up his neck, Mitsuhide doesn’t enjoy it. On the contrary, Zen’s discomfort is his discomfort, a failure of him to keep the watchful eye on him that Izana asked him to.

But it also doesn’t stop him from adding, “Shirayuki believes that waiting in line is part of the amusement park experience.”

Obi looks as though he’s just been told it’s his birthday and Christmas, all rolled into one. “Of course she does.” His mouth sharpens to a wicked grin. “So you’ll be lowering yourself to the peasant’s lines today, huh, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, swatting him away. “No one’s being lowered anywhere. We won’t be running into any of them so long as we get there early and hit the coasters in the right order.”

Obi coughs. Or at least, makes it sound like he is. “Uh-huh.”

“Where is Shirayuki anyway?” Zen glares at the empty doorway, brows heaving like thunderclouds over the bridge of his nose. “I thought you said you’d get her.”

“I did.” Obi twitches his shoulders; as good as a shrug, from him. “She’s getting ready.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.” Zen’s glare changes target to him, thunder rolling in the tone of his voice. “Shirayuki doesn’t take this long to get ready.”

When Mitsuhide glances up, chewing around another stab of egg, kale, and chicken, Obi’s eyebrows are already there to meet him. His head tilts, just the barest degree; this is your show, big guy.

Mitsuhide coughs, trying to clear his throat of leaf bits. “Girls,” he starts, the ground sinking beneath him with each word, “like to look nice. Especially when they are on, uh, dates.”

“This isn’t a date,” Zen informs him, more than a little put out. “Obi’s going.”

The sound Obi makes can only be termed as distressed. “I didn’t want to.”

For exactly this reason, is what he doesn’t say. Doesn’t even show it on his face, though it has to be lurking beneath it, considering how he--

Well, considering nothing Mitsuhide knows for sure. But certainly a few things he reasonably suspects.

“Chief.” Obi flips the chair next to him, straddling it. “You know, I really thought it couldn’t be true. I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But to hear you now--” he leans in, one narrow brow raising the same time his voice drops-- “you really do chicken out when it comes to getting chummy with Doc.”

Mitsuhide nearly chokes on his chicken.

Zen’s red all over, like someone pulled him from a boiling pot and put him on a plate. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do,” he says, so easy. “Doc told me.”

“She said that?” His skin’s so flushed Mitsuhide’s half afraid he’ll pass out, but instead he just collapses against the ladderback, head buried in his arms. “Shirayuki?”

“Pretty much.” Obi sighs, hands braced on the table. “I mean, is it so hard to say she looks nice when she dresses up? Or that you like her hair, or--” he stumbles, shaking his head-- “no, not the hair. Too loaded. But you know, one of her floaty little numbers. Her freckles. Something.”

“I have!”

Obi lifts a dubiously narrow eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Ah...” Whatever the answer is, it’s not helping his blood flow problem. Mitsuhide nearly opens his mouth, searching for a good way to make himself a target-- “The Big E.”

Well, there goes that plan.

Obi’s inquisition crumples into confusion. “What? When did you--”

Every word ekes into the air with the utmost resistance. “When she was wearing your hoodie.”

“When she was wearing my--?” Gold eyes round to coins. “Chief.”

For a solid minute, that’s the only reaction-- wide-eyed disbelief, earned from two sides. But Obi coughs, mouth twitching, and it’s a snort, a smirk, and--

And then Obi launches himself away from the table, both hands still gripping the edge as he falls apart utterly. The chair’s back keeps him from putting his head between his knees, but spiritually he’s there, tears tracking down his cheeks as his laughs wheeze out of him

One hand finally slaps the table, like he’s asking for a time out. Zen frowns down at him, red finally fading to a painful pink. “It’s not that funny.”

“It is,” Obi squeaks, and Mitsuhide has to shove his last bite of omelette into his mouth to stifle his own noises. It’s no good-- Zen whips around and gives him the same glare he’s been saving for Obi.

“If you don’t cut it out,” he says loftily, “I’m going to let a freshman stay in your room.”

Well, that brings Obi up. “Fine,” he coughs, voice still ragged from laughing. “But still. My hoodie.”

“The sleeves hung over her hands! It was cute.” Zen huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine, if I’m so bad, why don’t you two show me how it’s done?”

There’s a pause, long and loaded; enough that Mitsuhide glances up from his plate to see just what tomfoolery he should brace himself to break up--

Only to find Zen staring at him.

Intellectually, Mitsuhide is aware that Zen is a Wisteria. He met him through Izana, after all; he’s been over to the manor, he’s even met their prodigal mother on one of her rare stopovers between vacations. But when he thinks of the name, it’s Izana who springs to mind, the gears churning behind his eyes.

It’s not often that Zen reminds him of his brother; Cookie’s always said that Izana takes after their mother with that long and lean model build, while Zen has always been Kain’s child. But now, now--

He sees it, and it sends a shiver right through him.

With a quirk of his lips, Zen says, so like Izana that if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t know any different, “You first, Mitsuhide.”

Obi’s mouth curves into a leer. “Yeah, Big Guy. Show us the skills that got you Ms Kiki.”

This probably isn’t the time to tell them that it wasn’t him who got her; Mitsuhide hadn’t been trying to do anything more than be the friend she needed, to be a person she could confide in, could trust. People like that were thin on the ground for girls like her; heiress tended to make men see dollar signs instead of personality. But Kiki--

Well, she had other ideas. Ones he’d only cottoned onto when she climbed on top of him and shoved him against the couch cushions with her mouth.

“D-Don’t look at me!” he manages, trying to busy himself with anything. But there’s only a plate to be put in the sink, and a pan to be wiped. Not enough to fake a decent amount of responsibility. “I’m not--”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Man. Don’t leave us hanging.” Obi leans back, grin so wide it practically splits his face. “Lemme paint the scene. You’re single, Doc is adorable, and she’s waiting there--” he gestures to Zen, who flutters his eyelashes in precisely the way Shirayuki doesn’t-- “for you to make your move. Go!”

He could point out he’s not single, and that he doesn’t have any plans to change that anytime soon-- but that only ends in one way: a two-pronged mockery with additional ridicule provided by the impending arrival of his better half. He could also point out that of all the people in this room, he’s the only one who hasn’t wanted to date Shirayuki, but-- well, the problems with that one were obvious.

Instead, Mitsuhide takes in a deep breath, learns on the counter, and says, “Why, Shirayuki! You’re looking beautiful this morning. Those shorts really flatter your legs.”

There is a long silence, and then to everlasting embarrassment, they burst out laughing.

“Her shorts?” Zen’s hand is pressed to his chest, like he needs support to keep upright. “That’s all you can think of? Her shorts?”

“Well, Obi said not to do her hair,” he protests. “Complimenting her dress seemed like low hanging fruit. I was trying to be unique.”

Obi doesn’t even bother to remain horizontal, sprawling himself over the long forgotten maps. “So you went for her legs?”

“There’s nothing wrong with legs!”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Zen sputters out in an effort to keep his mouth straight. “Definitely a very neutral place to comment on.”

“Definitely not known for being attached to things like asses.” Obi’s mouth twitches, as much a sign for danger as thunder rolling in the distance. “Or puss--”

“I was not trying to comment on that.” He’d felt bad for Zen earlier, but the sentiment doesn’t seem mutual. “It’s not typical, sure, but Kiki never seems to mind when I compliment--”

“Kiki?” Zen squawks. “Kiki?”

“Well, I think we’re all learning a little too much about Big Guy today,” Obi wheezes. “Mainly that it’s Ms Kiki that chased him, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah.” Zen shakes his head, long and slow and solemn, like a doctor about to give a terminal diagnosis. “No game at all.”

Mitsuhide’s not a competitive man. Sure, he was forward on the ice, the kind of player that got sent to the box before the end of the first half and slid right into the captain spot when it was vacant. Aggression is part of the game, competition laced in every turn of his skate and lift of his stick, but that’s a different situation, a different language--

But it’s that part of him that surges beneath his skin right now, that makes him want to saunter over and put both hands on that rickety, painted wood until it creaks. That makes him want to take a full minute to bend down, showing off every centimeter of his one-ninety plus, and ask real low if either of them has made a girl beg on their cock lately, but--

He puts it in its place. That sort of talk always sounded better en français anyway.

Zen waves his hand, slipping his pamphlets out from under Obi. “Anyway, enough messing around. Are you still making omelettes, Mitsuhide?”

“Ohh, omelettes?” Obi spins to him with wide eyes. “Can I get mine with fancy ham?”

Mitsuhide blinks. “Wait, aren’t you going to do your take?”

“Nah.”

Zen shrugs. “Joke’s over.”

“So I just did that for no reason--?”

“I wouldn’t say no reason,” Zen wheedles. “It was very educational.”

Obi grins. “Mainly about how Big Guy likes legs--”

“Oh,” drawls a voice that makes his body go cold and hot at the same time. When he turns, it’s Kiki leaning against the jamb, a single elegant brow raised, excusing amusement and menace in equal measure. “Am I to take it that the show is over?”

“K-kiki,” he stammers. “How long--?”

“Hm.” She saunters over to the counter, slipping onto a stool with a casual grace that still leaves his mouth dry. “Long enough. I have to admit, I was looking forward to seeing a display of Obi’s fabled moves.”

“Ms Kiki,” Obi simpers, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’d be happy to give you a personal demonstration anytime.”

Both her brows raise. “Did I say I was desperate?”

He’s saved from Obi’s answer by Shirayuki padding into the kitchen, flushed and breathless. “Oh, you were right Kiki! Everyone is already ready. Sorry to make you wait.”

There’s a hesitation in the air, and Mitsuhide can’t figure it out, not until he sees-- she’s wearing shorts.

Shirayuki blinks. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kiki hums, sending him a gaze so wicked it should be illegal outside the bedroom. “Do you have anything to say to her, Mitsuhide?”

“No!” It comes out a little too harsh, a little too loud. “I mean, I, uh...like your sandals!”

“Sandals,” Obi snickers, a sound that’s only covered by Zen’s hushed, “Shut up.”

“Oh!” She blinks down. “Thank you. I got them at Payless. I, um, don’t think they make them in your size.”

“No,” he manages mildly. “I don’t imagine they would.”

“You do look real cute, Doc,” Obi chimes in, slinking out of his seat to circle around her. “Did you dress up for today?”

Zen makes a noise, somewhere between a choke and a gasp, but even with the pink brushing her cheeks, Shirayuki’s too used to his antics to do much more than sigh.

“Of course I did, Obi.” Her fists perch high on her hips, cocked as she talks to him. “It’s the last time we’re all going to be going out together, isn’t it? What could be more special than that?”

Mitsuhide may not be a competitive man, and especially isn’t a malicious one, but when Obi’s jaw goes slack, the tips of his ears darkening just the slightest bit, well-- he does indulge in the slightest bit of schadenfreude.

“Well,” Zen says, a little sharp. “Let’s get going.”

“Aw!” Obi whips around. “What about fancy ham?”

“I don’t think you need--”

“Oh, I haven’t had breakfast either!” Shirayuki adds, eyes wide. “Do we have time?”

Zen hesitates, and then with a sigh, relents. “We’ll stop at Dunkies.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #The Wide Florida Bay #modern au #my fic #ans #mitsuhide gets so few POVs in the fic I can't help but let them get away from me okay #he's a gift #the actual six flags chapters are gonna have rotating POV #and it was just supposed to START with him #but then i was like WHAT IF I INCLUDED THE SCENE FROM BEFORE THE CANON DATE #and now we are here

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years

Note

Could I request 35 from the random prompt list and 12 from the ways to say I love you lost with Hotch please? :)

aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader.

word count: 1514

rating: teen, for the chill in the air and the warmth that the two of you build together, your own fire sparking (tw: alcohol mention, food mention).

Your eyes scan the horizon you can see outside your window. The snowfall is normal here for this time of year, but it’s always amazing to you how much it… builds. It looks like a new city, a new planet.

And it’s the snowfall that has you shivering, the snowfall that has your team stuck in this town for another two days. The plane can’t take off after all, when a blizzard of surprising proportions decides to camp out.

You blink, breaking away from the trance of fresh snow, before turning back to face the rest of your team. The whole group had gathered to hear the announcement from Aaron, and now there’s this moment of reckoning. After all, the team had already dressed down for the plane, for the weather, and now the implication that work would be done for a couple more days… What to do with the sudden time off? A couple get a glint in their eye – Derek, Prentiss, and Penelope, all of whom look at each other before wandering off toward a room.

“And where do the three of you think you’re going?” Rossi calls out, only to receive a smirk from over Prentiss’s shoulder.

“Movie in Morgan’s room. We’re gonna rent The Shining.”

Just the suggestion makes a chill run down your spine. Bold of them to show something like that in a hotel that’s mainly occupied by the group of you. But Penelope and Derek just link arms, and the three of them continue their stroll. They’re joined by Spencer, who scurries after them, after going into great length about the differences between the film and the book – backed up by Prentiss, which prompts an argument between which is better.

It’s heartwarming. Good to see after a violent case. The small towns are always tough, always make your soul ache, and when you chuckle at the sound of Derek’s protests about film versus book content, you catch Hotch’s eyes.

There’s a smile on his face, too. The weariness that settles after a case, the blinking that ends up slow and steady as he watches some of his family begin their nights off with a bang, it’s there. And it makes him seem like a source of warmth in the midst of all of the chill.

“Crazy kids,” Rossi snarks, sarcasm dripping, and JJ just laughs, shaking her head.

“I’m gonna go call Will and Henry,” she tells the three of you that remain, looking at the group before smiling gently, a little bit of sadness in her eyes. “Maybe try and Skype. If you need anything…”

“We know where to find you,” you assure her, and she nods. “Go take off, JJ, spend time with your family.”

She too leaves the lobby.

Rossi starts drifting away, too. Towards the front doors, and Hotch raises his brow at the sight. “And you? What’s out there?”

“A good bottle of bourbon, and I’m sure the kids will want whatever you plebians call pizza,” Rossi calls back to his unit chief, and when he turns his smirk is very reminiscent of what Prentiss’s looked like. “I’ll be back.”

That’s the dismissal. Rossi has the keys to the van, after all. And Hotch, watching, seems unbothered. If anything, he’s amused.

And then there were two.

You turn to look at Hotch, smile at him. He looks back, and the corner of his lips twitches up, his eyes warm and bright. There’s something unspoken in the air, a realization that while the rest of the team made their way quickly out of the lobby, the two of you lingered behind. There’s been a lot of lingering, and you try to explain it away. But in the moment, within the feeling, there’s little to explain. You don’t need to.

With a glance around the space, not even the desk clerk eavesdropping

“I’m sure there are other movies besides The Shining on,” you say, almost despite your brain screaming at you to come to stop. “Sounds like that’ll be my plan.”

“Not a fan of thrillers?” Hotch asks you, and you shake your head.

“A movie about a man who attempts to murder his family in a haunted empty hotel? In the dead of winter?” With a gesture around to the empty lobby, the wintry precipitation outside, your boss lets out a chuckle.

“I see your point.” The two of you start moving towards the elevator, and you find yourself thinking about how close he’s standing, how close he’s lingering. “Well. I hope you find a good movie.”

“A sudden day off? What does Aaron Hotchner do with that?” you tease, and he ducks his head a little. Almost… bashful. It seems to light your nerve endings, your fingers tingling. When he doesn’t answer, you dare to reach with an elbow, nudge him a little. “You have a movie to suggest? One that makes the window leaking cold air disappear?”

“Maybe,” he returns, and the doors open. He moves to leave, and then glances back, calls out your name. You turn to face him, blinking as he stares.

“Did you say your window is leaking cold air?” It’s like he didn’t process the implications completely until that moment, and you find yourself squirming under his gaze.

“It’s fine! I called down for three extra blankets, and I’m managing,” you tell him. But even that reassurance doesn’t do its job, because Hotch turns to face you, raises a brow.

“You should’ve told me. We would’ve gotten you another room,” he tells you, and you simply shrug again. You open your mouth, to interject, but he shakes his head, stopping you. There’s a hint of unit chief in his gaze, but a bit of something more.

“Come on. You can stay in my room. I’ll call down, see what we can do about getting you resituated.”

So that’s how the evening starts. The two of you, in his room. He talks to the front desk, and they assure that someone will be up to look at the window, but give no estimated time for the repair. In those moments, as you sit in his space, you feel like you’re invading, but if anything he seems at ease. The way he sits on the edge of the bed, corded phone up to his ear. Some moments, he meets your gaze, offers a smile, and you find yourself smiling back, watching as he adjusts the zipper of his jacket.

Then you get a text. From Rossi. He’s back from the pizza place, needs helping carrying things inside. You get up to go assist when Hotch calls your name, makes you turn back to him.

“Here, take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

You find yourself just staring, mouth a little agape as he slides it off of his shoulders, passes it over. You take it, your heart pounding, and he offers you another small smile before he starts talking again with the front desk. All of this for you, which he would do for anyone else. But today, he’s doing it for you, and you can’t help but notice the way he watches you slide the thing over his shoulders.

When you make it to one of the black SUVs, you try to ignore the way that Rossi’s eyes scan you, too, amusement on his features. He passes over the pizza and your grip stumbles a little, as the wind outside and the blur of snow combined with your embarrassment makes your fingers tremble.

“Whoa, whoa, easy. I’ve got you,” Rossi says, and when he shoots you a smirk you give it right back.

“Got something to say, Rossi?”

“Just surprised you emerged,” Rossi states mildly, and you shrug your shoulders at him before reaching to the first box, pulling it open to see steaming fresh cheese and dough. It looks delicious, and your stomach rumbles at the sight. The two of you start pushing inside when his comment hits you, and you’re glad the snow is making your cheeks numb, or else you’d feel the warmth flood your face.

“Nothing happened,” you protest, but Rossi just shakes his head.

“Oh, I know. But I got an extra box for the two of you just in case another appearance is rare. The others are for… well. The others.”

He knows what you’re thinking. That you wouldn’t mind that one bit, if the extra box was put to good use. You push that thought down, letting the mention of your friends makes you smile. “I can drop two of these boxes by Morgan’s door. I’m sure that there won’t just be one movie watched at the end of the day.”

“Especially since JJ joined them,” Rossi remarks. “I have a feeling they won’t be coming out until the morning.”

You nod. The bunch of pizzas is resting in your very capable hands, and when you make it in the elevators get another trip. But before you can step on, Rossi calls out to you, and you turn to see his eyes twinkle.

“You’re all right, kid,” he offers. “Don’t overthink it.”

It’s good advice, sound advice, and you nod, ignoring the way your mouth goes a little dry. “It’s him, though,” you manage, and Rossi just chuckles.

“And you’re you. You’ll be fine.”

#prompt fill #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #gender neutral reader #criminal minds #my fic

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

A Stitch In Time || Alec and Jane and Reader||

Warnings: Mentions of poverty but mostly this is fluff

Word Count: 6429

Summary: Alec and Jane are...going to school? As if that wasn’t bad enough, they’re constantly pestered by one irritating little human who clearly has no concept of self-preservation. Spending a winter in Forks was not how they had planned the end of their year to go, but winter traditions have changed since they were human, and they find the new ones aren’t all that bad.

It was well known that you didn’t anger the witch twins unless you wanted to die. First, there was Jane, whose temper was as quick to flare as though it were a match being struck. Alec was, in comparison, far calmer in outward appearance while he mentally plotted twenty steps ahead as to how best to exact his revenge for the displeasure caused to him. In both cases the victims of their anger met ruthless ends; it was merely dependent on which witch twin they had pissed off as to how swiftly the end came. With that in mind, one has to question what on Earth Felix and Demetri were thinking when they started sending the twins to school.

When Carlisle had entreated the Volturi to aid them in reclaiming their territory, Aro had agreed without a second thought to “aid an old friend”, as he had put it. None of the guard had any qualms about helping the coven (they had done them no wrong after all even if their way of life was rather strange) but they hadn’t expected it to be such an arduous process. The nomads who had taken over the Olympic Peninsula travelled in the usual small group but Demetri just couldn’t track them. He had caught the tenors yes, but the trail they left just…looped around. Somebody was clearly messing with his gift and enjoying watching him run about in circles, and it was taking a considerable toll on the tracker to try and figure out where the group was at any given time.

They had stayed at the Cullen’s house for the most part, Carlisle and Esme sending them the keys and alarm codes before they had arrived, and once the place was scoped out and found to be clean they had moved in post haste. The place was lavish, large, modern, and it allowed them to live in seclusion and comfort. It became their base of operations as they tried to track down these nomads. They were vicious and killing in droves, drawing attention to themselves and threatening the Cullen’s openly. Demetri was grateful for the encounter that Rosalie had had or else he would have had very little hope of finding a tenor to follow.

Then the Chief of Police had come past.

It was an unusual pattern, not at all a regular patrol route since it took him so far off of the main path, but fate had determined he was going to come their way and spot Alec and Jane just as they were headed back into the house after an afternoon walk. They had ran at a human pace, warning the others as they went, and by the time Police Chief Swan rang the doorbell they all had contacts in and was prepared to greet their unexpected guest. After a lot of explaining they had managed to convince him that they had rented the property while they worked abroad for a short period. Volturi Ltd. Was a legitimate company he could look up after all and the Secretaries were trained in how to handle inquiries into the company from the outside world. The only problem then was Alec and Jane. Despite being a thousand years of age, the twins still looked to be physically 14 at the most. Any self-respecting people would be sending their 14 year olds to school wouldn’t they?

Well, what else could they do at that point?

“Sister.” Alec placed a hand on her shoulder but couldn’t help the way his lips quirked upward in amusement. Her glare was fixated on a boy of small stature, with an ego twice his size. She wasn’t quite using her gift on him yet, but the boy had twitched a bit and was showing obvious signs of distress. Jane broke her gaze, turning to look at Alec with an expression that screamed of displeasure.

“I dislike him immensely.” She deadpanned.

“So I can see.” Alec murmured. They kept their voices so low nobody would hear them, and the teacher was so busy praising the know-it-all bully Jane had had her eye on he doubted she would see he was clearly not playing attention.

“I do not know how much more of this I can take. Ugh, look, Y/N is writing you another note, insufferable little-“

“Alec? Pssst.” your voice was so loud in comparison to theirs. He tried not to sigh, though he found your consistent need to bother them somewhat amusing when he was in better moods. Lucky for you, this moment was one of them. He let you whisper for him once more before he turned, raising an eyebrow at you. You stared ahead robotically, so obviously up to no good it made him wonder how anyone could ever think you innocent in that moment, and slid a piece of paper across the tabletop to him. Alec opened it up with a slight sigh.

Want to play tic-tac-toe with me?

He tilted his head slightly.

“What’s that?” he whispered. Your jaw dropped slightly and you hurriedly took the paper back from him, drawing out a 3x3 grid and drawing a circle on it.

“Noughts and crosses?” you murmured hopefully, wondering if he knew it by another name. Alec stared at the strange design with a furrowed brow.

“I’ve never heard of it.” He said finally, glancing back up towards the front of the room as the teacher asked for contributions to the discussion. You were absolutely screwed. You were still looking at the side of his head.

“I’m sure you know Y/N since you’re so keen to tell Alec all about it. Would you share with the rest of the class?” she asked, her eyebrows raised and expression screaming ‘I caught you’ despite her friendly tone. Alec stifled a laugh, enjoying your obvious discomfort as you stuttered for a response. Jane smothered a smile with her hand, a very human action she had picked up from you but didn’t realise. This was how they spent the majority of their days since they’d started school three weeks ago; lessons were boring and covered topics they already knew, and the children were cruel. Cruelty was nothing new to either of the twins but there had been some small part of them that had hoped that perhaps it would be different this time, that perhaps they were too different now they knew how to blend in better.

Of course, vampire teenagers in an otherwise human class was not going to be as discrete as they liked but there was just something about the twins sharp tongues and apathetic expressions that was not inviting enough for the other children to even pretend to be friendly – that and they were all teenagers in a small town who had grown up in their cliques since birth. Only you had bothered to welcome them with any sort of warm regard, and it was both tiresome and heat warming that at least one of the wretched little humans had tried. By the time they trudged into the cafeteria to sit with a tray of food they wouldn’t touch unless you forced them to, Jane was grinding her teeth in distaste. She was enjoying this even less than Alec was, though he put his twin’s rotten mood down to the need to hunt.

It was nearing December now and the winter months had brought with it even more rain that quickly turned to ice, with cold winds that stung human cheeks. Jane and Alec felt none of it of course but given the way your tray of food nearly toppled on top of the table with the violence of your shivering it was safe to say the humans did. The twins had guessed you weren’t from the richest family in the world, your clothes didn’t have the same labels as the other children did and were sometimes too big or too small, a little tattered or sewn back together with patches or mismatching threads in a shade that was similar, but not exact to the colour of the material.

“Here we go again.” Jane muttered for his ears only. You had sat with them at lunch every day for the past two weeks since you realised they often sat alone. Your wide Y/E/C eyes took them in, teeth chattering.

“How a-are you n-not cold?” you demanded, limbs trembling as you rubbed your hands together furiously in an effort to warm up. Your jacket looked thin, definitely not able to withstand the temperatures that had continued to drop throughout the day. The grey sky was threatening snow. Alec could smell what would be rain but had the fresher, sharper scent snow brought with it.

“Because it isn’t as cold as you think.” Alec answered. Not when your flesh is already frozen he tacked on mentally. You frowned.

“N-not cold? Are you insane?” you shook your head, ignoring your shivers for now to dig into your food. You always ate like you were starving to, and Alec sometimes wondered if you were getting enough to eat at home, but it wasn’t his place to ask. You had a hot chocolate today to, something you had clearly saved up to buy since he remembered you looking rather sad when you read the price beside it on the menu board the other week. It struck him that perhaps your kindness stemmed from your own perceived difference. You weren’t the same as the other children. You worked harder and were quite obviously poorer. Alec and Jane were the strange new kids. In some ways, your trio was perfectly compatible when it came to categorical ostracization.

“Are you?” Jane’s answer was curt but you tilted your head like you were genuinely considering the question.

“My brother says I am.” You shrugged, shovelling another forkful of mac and cheese into your mouth. If it tasted as bad as it looked, Alec pitied you greatly. Jane just blinked, looking slightly surprised.

“You have a brother?” she questioned. You hummed around a mouthful of food.

“He’s older than me, he g-goes to high school.” Your shivering had lessened a little, the food warming you up even if it did little else. The usual silence fell over you all then. You tended to fill the silence when you were done eating, usually with questions about why they weren’t eating and if they were sick, or simply trying to coax more information about where they’d come from out of them. Today the routine was interrupted by the snow Alec had predicted.

“It’s here! It’s here! The first snowfall!” a young girl yelled, pointing back outside. A cacophony of noise made Alec and Jane cringe, their sensitive ears protesting against the sounds of scraping chairs and shrieking children, a thousand little feet thudding into the tile to reach the snow first as zippers on jackets whizzed up towards chins. Your eyes were sparkling, obvious delight on your face as you worked twice as hard to finish off the last of your mac and cheese. Alec’s eyebrows rose as you turned to your dessert next, the jello cup being ripped open.

“If you eat too fast you’ll make yourself sick.” Alec reminded you. You gulped, almost choking on your jello.

“I’s ‘no’.” your voice came out all garbled but Alec understood the general premise of it, his disapproval at your decision to go outside with the others obvious on his face.

“You were just complaining you were cold.” Jane huffed. You swallowed.

“But it’s the first snow! Come on! Come on you have to come! Please please please please please please please please-“

“My god we’ll follow you!” Jane snapped. You ignored her tone completely and jumped to your feet, whizzing to collect your things and clean up your tray. Alec watched you go with a shake of his head. Humans were such stupid little creatures. He knew you’d be freezing the moment you set foot outside but that didn’t deter you in the slightest. Neither, apparently, did their cold skin. With your warm hands enveloping theirs you dragged the twins outside into the snow. It was something they had seen before of course, but Alec and Jane had the added advantage of having enhanced eyesight. They could see every little snowflake as it fell, all its unique edges and shapes. Your arms flew outward as you span around, giggling all the while as you reached out and tried to catch a snowflake in your palm. Alec tilted his head as he watched you, Jane sighing quietly beside him.

“They seem so happy...they don’t even see the full wonder of the phenomena.” he mused. Jane was watching you with critical eyes, but Alec could see the slightest softening of her expression and guessed she was as fascinated with your reaction as he was. Your hands were far too warm too catch anything of course, the snowflakes melting upon contact with your skin, but your smile never once dropped and you kept trying again and again, your enthusiasm undeterred.

“They’re already shivering, and yet they carry on,” Jane observed, “Their determination is admirable though.” Alec chuckled.

“You almost sound fond.” He teased. She scoffed, shooting him a wry look from the corner of her eye.

“I’m about as fond of any of them as I am of those idiots picking us up later.” She sniffed. Alec had to laugh at that, even as you came running up to them rabbiting about snowmen and snow angels. You were trembling head to foot. With a small sigh, he shrugged out of his jacket and held it towards you. Your eyes widened.

“But y-you’ll g-g-get cold.” You said, teeth gnashing together noisily.

“You are already frozen. Just swap my jacket with yours.” He huffed.

“But-“

“Y/N.” his voice was curt, no nonsense, the same sort of tone he imagined his mother had once used on him when he was smaller. You obediently took his jacket from him and even though it wasn’t saturated with any sort of human warmth, the wool was thick and you snuggled down into it like it was a lifeline. Your own threadbare denim looked slightly ridiculous on him, too small and the fit all wrong, but Alec didn’t complain once. He held his hand out, knowing it would be cold enough for what he wanted to do, and in one go caught a snowflake he let you inspect to your heart’s desire.

“Softie.” Jane grumbled under her breath. He ignored her. What was the point of making themselves miserable at school? If they had to be here then they should try to make the best of it right? Besides, when you looked at him like that…how could he say no? You invoked some of his oldest, foggiest memories of a wide-eyed Jane staring up at him with awe and admiration, it felt like he was getting a second chance to be the big brother he should have been in that cold, snowy moment.

“Oh Alec! Isn’t it so pretty!” you cried. You can’t even see it he thought incredulously, though he still nodded in agreement. He really hadn’t been expecting you to hug him and he wasn’t quite sure what to do in reply either. Did he hug you back? His arms hesitated, not quite winding around you. His hands were awkwardly left bent outwards as if too touch you would be lethal. His awkward display only made Jane snort, smothering her laughter in her jacket as you bounced back from him and demanded that they all go the Jungle Gym. The bars would surely freeze your fingers and gloves were so slippery not many people were on them today, and those that were quickly disappeared when they saw Alec and Jane coming anyhow.

This was the day Alec blamed for your absence the following week.

You hadn’t bounced in like you usually did, hanging your jacket on the peg beside Jane’s, nor had you wished the teacher good morning when she called your name for the roll call. Truth be told, both twins were rather worried about you when you didn’t show up by the end of first period either, so much so, Alec decided to ask about you. Miss Destiel was a fairly nice woman, strict perhaps but she always found time for her students, so she greeted the two strange newcomers to her class with the same warm smile she gave everyone. Alec didn’t have to be Edward Cullen to know she was probably thinking of several different ways to get them out of her way as quickly as possible despite her friendly demeanour.

“We want to know if you know where Y/N is.” Jane said, cutting straight to the point. She tilted her head.

“I see. You three are good friends, aren’t you? I see you together at recess a lot. You needn’t worry too much. Her mother called in to tell us she was sick, a little bit of a flu bug they think. She should be back by the end of the week.” Miss Destiel promised them. Alec let his disgust show on his face. A flu bug? Why did humans have to be so weak! It was the cold wasn’t it? It had seeped into your bones and tried to leech the life out of you. Dammit! If only you’d had a better jacket! Or maybe some gloves! Maybe you shouldn’t have been stupid enough to play outside in the snow with them…

You didn’t show up for another four days, and when you did return you drove them half mad with your sniffling and nose blowing and coughing. The other children were giving you dirty looks to, calling you germy and demanding you stay away from them in case you passed on your germs. Alec and Jane were not popular and neither were you, but you did have a few other friends beside them, even those children tried to stay away till you were better, and only one of them was apologetic about it. You were obviously disheartened by the whole affair and prodded at your food with a miserable expression.

“Cheer up, you don’t need to cry in that pie, it smells salty enough already.” Jane’s attempt at comfort was half-hearted at best but Alec was amazed she had even tried at all. You gave her a weak smile.

“I’m not feeling all that hungry.” You mumbled.

“But you always eat,” Alec frowned, “Even when they bring out that awful soggy pizza.”

“S’just the flu.” You sighed.

“Y/N you have to eat.” Alec reprimanded. He really wasn’t sure if you’d make it through the day without a little something in your system and was pleased when you forced down another few bites for him. You glanced at the clock through droopy, watery eyes. You really weren’t ready to come back to school today and it was obvious to both of them.

“I need to go get my medicine from the nurse. I’ll see you in class.” You sniffed, a tickle you tried to clear turning into a coughing spree as you walked away.

“We need to do something.” Jane scowled at her tray.

“We cannot make her better, sister.” Alec pointed out. Jane stared him down for a long moment, and then a smile twitched up her lips.

“Maybe not, but we can stop her getting sick again. Come on, help me.” She ordered. Alec raised his eyebrows but followed her lead, dumping his tray and heading back towards the classroom with her. He stood guard, hearing paper shuffling inside the room as Jane put whatever plan she had into action. He didn’t question it until Friday afternoon rolled around and Miss Destiel decided to read out the names of the secret Santa pairings one more time, at Jane’s request. Next Thursday was the last day of term before the Christmas break started and there would be secret Santa and some choosing time in the afternoon that neither twin was looking forward to.

“Alec and Y/N…huh? Debbie didn’t you have Y/N last time we read out the names?” Miss Destiel looked to the red headed girl for answers, but she just shrugged, uncertain. Alec smiled slightly.

“You switched the papers.” He murmured. Jane hummed, her face the picture of angelic.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about dear brother, but I do have an ideas as to what you could get Y/N if you’re interested.” She was hardly done with her plan just yet though. Demetri wasn’t particularly surprised when the twins came marching towards him; they were often eager to get out of school, but the surprise lay in their demeanours. Usually he could count on a very grumpy Jane and a clearly exasperated Alec, but today they both looked determined. Jane brushed past him with all the regal stature of a woman who knew her self-worth, and Demetri raised an eyebrow slightly as he turned to face Alec.

“We have plans to attend to Demetri. We’re still headed to Port Angeles tonight are we not?” he questioned. Demetri nodded.

“We are, why?”

“We’re going to go earlier than planned. We have secret Santa obligations to fulfil.” He explained, ducking into the car. Demetri looked even more confused at that, but he didn’t dare question either twin as he headed for the driver’s side door. Wasn’t Santa always secret? Had he misunderstood human traditions? He didn’t know and neither Alec nor Jane cared enough to tell him. They were hyper focused now on their plan, a plan they hoped would ensure the health and happiness of the one human being they actually (though they remained very reluctant to admit it) liked. Secrecy was the very nature of their work and yet Alec’s tongue itched whenever he saw you, the secret on the tip of his tongue desperately trying to leap off into the air between you both. Jane struggled too, unable to hide her growing impatience as the week dragged on and your shivers grew worse, your sniffly nose a new, permanent feature on your face.

“Good tidying everyone. Nicky, tell me one thing you’ve learned today?” Miss Destiel snapped Alec out of his daydream and he sat up straighter, wanting to give the appearance of paying attention. Nicky was a smallish boy who had yet to have any sort of growth spurt apparently, all long gangly limbs and braces.

“Erm…After World War 2, they split up Germany and Berlin?” he sounded more like he was guessing than anything else and the twins fought the urge to scoff. How ignorant these little humans were.

“Yes they did! You can go and get your secret Santa present. Can you expand on Nicky’s point somehow Bridget?” Miss Destiel turned to the opposite side of the room now and Alec almost groaned when he realised what she was doing. One by one, they were left to answer questions in order to exit the room, and the process was excruciatingly slow given how stupid the small beings were. By the time the whole affair was over and everyone had a present in front of them, Alec’s fingers were itching at the colourful paper he’d wrapped your present in. Jane had watched multiple youtube videos to get the bow on top just right.

“Miss Destiel can we please give our presents out!” Debbie whined.

“Yeah please?”

“Please!”

“Let us give our presents Miss!”

She held up her hands, waiting for silence, and not until you could have heard a pin drop did she nod and motion for them to get up out of their seats.

You didn’t move.

Alec watched you with a small frown as Jane moved away to find Nicky in the sea of humans. She all but threw the small package at his chest, briefly thanking him in a curt and ice cold voice for the present he gave her in return before she gave him a nod, and the pair drifted with all the grace their vampirism allowed towards you. You only seemed to grow smaller in your seat, some wrinkled looking tissue paper wrapped around a lumpy looking package on your desk in front of you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Alec held out the parcel in his hand. It looked much neater in comparison, with shiny gold paper and a shimmering, expertly tied black bow. You swallowed, your fists clenching on top of the tabletop as you took a breath and gathered the courage to face him. Your eyes widened slightly.

“It looks so…fancy…” you fretted. Alec frowned, tilting his head.

“It’s just a present.” Alec said. You bit your lip, taking it when he shook it impatiently before you and carefully setting it on your desk like it was made of precious gold. He folded his arms, standing and watching expectantly as your shaky fingers lifted to try and untie the bow. Jane watched in surprise as you reverently unfurled the ribbon from the paper, making sure it didn’t crumple. You were equally as careful with the paper, a sharp exhale escaping you when you pulled it away to reveal the present within.

Your fingers brushed the thick, woolen fabric, shaky and unsure as you carefully unfolded the clothing and stood up to hold it before you. Your wide eyes looked over the shiny black buttons on the coat, your eyes drifting to the hallway where your own, threadbare denim hung still. You hadn’t taken off the hoodie you wore underneath all day in an effort to keep away the chill, but with your new coat you definitely wouldn’t need to wear triple layers just to stay warm anymore. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Is it not to your liking?” Jane asked confusedly.

“I thought you would want to be warmer given the cold weather.” Alec added. Had they got it wrong? Had your denim maybe got sentimental value they’d accidentally besmirched by giving you a new coat? They just wanted you to be warm! They didn’t like seeing you sick and shivering…

“This is expensive. You weren’t supposed to buy expensive things!” You fretted, but your fingers had curled into the fabric like you didn’t want to let go. Alec tilted his head.

“Y/N, this was hardly-“

“I can’t give you mine if you give me this! It looks so stupid and – and – it’s not – it’s not-“

“Y/N,” Alec gripped your shoulders with a troubled frown, “Our parents have more money than they know what to do with, spending a little of it to keep your warm is what we wanted to do for Christmas and we didn’t expect anything in return for it.” He said firmly. You sniffled, looking absolutely overwhelmed at the gesture. Neither twin could fully understand why. Sure, they had guessed you didn’t come from a well-off family but this reaction seemed extreme…then again, they couldn’t really remember what it was like to not have things. They had grown up farming, self-sufficiency meaning anything they didn’t have they grew or harvested to acquire it. Once they were turned, they had access to the Volturi’s vast treasury - money really had no meaning to them anymore.

Your fingers twitched for the lumpy package on the desk and Alec gave you an encouraging nod.

“I…they’re not…I couldn’t buy anything but, I wanted you to be warm to…so…so…” you stumbled over your words, your apparent shyness taking over. Alec and Jane had never known you to be lost for words. You were always chattering away at them, even when they were less than responsive. Jane’s eyebrows rose as you pulled out a second lumpy looking package with her name on, and the twins exchanged a glance as they felt the squishy, thick material through the thin paper. You had ducked your head, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as they pulled away the paper as carefully as they could. If you had been so intent on keeping theirs intact to recycle they would show you the same courtesy.

Alec blinked, and not just because the contacts were irritating his eyes. The thick and squishy material beneath his fingertips turned out to be black and blue, two colours he wore often as part of his charade since he couldn’t wear his guard uniform to school. The stripes of chunky knitting unfolded as he held them out into a long strip, the wool a little scratchy but soft, dense, designed to hold heat. Jane’s own red and black piece tumbled out of the paper towards the floor. They had seen them before of course, but with the slightly uneven width in places and a few missing stitches here and there, these were clearly homemade and not the fancy store bought ones they knew of.

You’d knitted them each a scarf.

He didn’t need it, he didn’t get cold, but Alec carefully wrapped the woolly scarf around his throat anyway. It warmed him in ways he couldn’t explain, his expression softening as he stroked the soft but scratchy material that dangled against his chest. Jane followed his lead, admiring the stitching with awe.

“You made these for us?” she asked. You nodded sheepishly.

“I know they’re not very good but-“

“They’re perfect.” Alec interrupted. Your fingers were still clamped around your new coat and Alec’s eyes rolled, taking it from you to force you into it. Your fingers trailed over the fabric, the buttons, a soft smile lighting up your face.

“Can I really keep it?” you asked quietly.

“Only if we can keep these.” Jane replied. You nodded, more enthusiastic now. Your Y/E/C eyes sparkled as you snuggled down in your new coat. Already Alec could see the colour returning slowly to your cheeks as your temperature rose, and he and Jane shared a nod of approval at the sight – it was a job well done. Alec and jane cared for very few people, none of them human until you came along, actually disappointed when they caught the nomads over Christmas and realised they couldn’t return to school to say goodbye to you properly.

You’d pressed the call button hours ago.

When the tightness in your chest had began Tuesday night you were sure it was going to pass. It had rapidly gotten worse however, so much so your daughter had been forced to call an ambulance out to you. The hospital was doing all they could but the place was miserable. Nobody saw you unless it was to do your observations and the food tasted awful. Not that you really had an appetite of course given how weak you felt.

It had been three very long days.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll make yourself sick.” The voice seemed so familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. With a gentle sigh, you turned your head away from the window you were lucky enough to be near and found a young boy watching you, his eyes gentle and sad. Beside him stood an petite blonde girl, both of them with the deepest brown eyes and palest skin you had ever seen. You frowned slightly, the faintest itch in your brain telling you that somehow you knew these children.

“That’s very true young man,” You nodded finally, “Are you visiting someone? I think you have the wrong room.” He nodded slowly.

“We are visiting a friend, I don’t think she knows we’re here.” He said, head tilting. The small girl beside him sighed. You hummed.

“Well you can ask at the desk, they know all the rooms.” You coughed slightly, a bony, age spotted hand reaching for your water. Your mouth felt rather dry, or maybe the room was just warm. You didn’t feel warm though.

“Has nobody come to visit you?” the girl wondered, helping bring the water to your lips. Her touch was gentle against your own but her hands were freezing cold. You shivered involuntarily, sipping at your water in an effort to soothe your throat.

“My daughter and grandkids came yesterday, you don’t have to – to worry about me.” You frowned slightly as you swallowed again. You had found breath a little hard to come by recently and the oxygen running up through your nostrils was hardly any use now. The boy was gentle as he pulled your blanket up around your chest.

“I’m glad, you haven’t been alone. You won’t be now, either.” He promised. Your frown deepened. Why was the room so cold all over a sudden? Why did the lights seem dimmer? You chest rattled slightly as you tried to take in air, the oxygen making you choke a little. The small blonde girl stepped up, pulling a red and black scarf that looked like it had been worn often, the threads worn down. Once it was carefully looped around your throat she stepped back, her cold hand settling in yours while the young boy took the other one. The air was stuffier still, even the breeze from the slightly open window wasn’t helping now, and everything suddenly became so clear. It was like you had previously been sitting surrounded by static.

“Alec…Jane…”your breathed, eyes watering. They looked exactly the same, not a day older than the day they had left. You had been so excited to see them in January when school was finally in session again but they hadn’t been there, they’d moved away again.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s been a long time, old friend.” Alec smiled softly, though his expression remained saddened. Your eyes watered.

“It’s been 70 years.” You rasped.

“78 years, 5 months and 13 days, if you want to be precise.” Jane spoke up. Her voice and her face was as apathetic as you remembered it to be. It was her scarf, she had given you her scarf. 78 years and she still had it. Alec pulled a stack of letters from his pocket, and you recognised the spidery handwriting easily in your bizarre state of clarity. All the letters you had written to Volturi Ltd in the hopesof keeping in contact with your friends. It was Jane who gently wiped away the few tears that spilt down sallow, wrinkled cheeks. You were so old, but they were wondrously young, vibrant in their youth. You wanted to know how, but you sensed somehow you didn’t have the time for the explanations you wanted.

“There were a few important answers we felt we should give you,” Alec said, sitting beside you and opening the first letter, “Firstly, we are well, we are happy and we did miss you to. We miss very few people, it surprised our masters when we requested to come and visit you.” You croaked a laugh. It was hardly surprising from what you remembered of the twins; even your friendship with them was strained at points, but they were hardly palatable to most in your class. Alec continued to scroll through the letters, and you suspected he knew with every answer he and Jane gave you that you were running short on air and time with every word he spoke.

When your lungs were really starting to battle for air you couldn’t quite stop the tears from coming. You wanted more time. You wanted more time with your old friends to try to understand why they left, why they were still so long. Maybe they weren’t even real, but the way their hands felt in yours was so realistic you doubted you could imagine it.

“I…d-don’t want…to go.” You struggled to get the words out, your heart trying to hard and your lungs ready to give up. Even if your mind was desperately pleading with it to hold on your body was clearly ready.

“Sometimes, it is simply our time, little human.” Alec said softly.

“Please don’t think less of us for not calling a nurse or a doctor. We think it’s kinder this way. You’re ready, even if you don’t think you are.” Jane promised, giving your hand the lightest squeeze.

“My g-grandaughters…she’s graduating i-in March…”you whispered. Alec soothingly ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

“She will keep you with her I’m sure…you’re quite difficult to forget, you know,” He smiled gently at you.

“It’s time to sleep now, Y/N.” Jane said. There was a darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision as your heart finally gave way in your chest, and Alec watched as you desperately fought for one last breath, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly while the light in your eyes died. Your heart monitor was screaming, the noise was going to attract someone very quickly they were sure, but they had finally gotten the goodbye they had been deprived of all those years ago.

“Will you take your scarf back with you sister?” Alec asked as they stood up and quickly cleaned away the letters and any other trace they had ever been there. Jane paused briefly, staring back at your frail body. You were much older now, still as skinny as they remembered, but any colour was stripped from your hair and replaced with grey. She very gently closed your vacant eyes, unable to keep looking at the empty Y/E/C, and shook her head.

“No, she’s still cold.” She frowned. Alec placed a hand on her shoulder briefly, his ears picking up the sound of feet thudding on the tile outside.

“We need to leave.” He said. Jane nodded her head.

“Lets.”

They disappeared as quickly as they came, Demetri waiting for them beside a Sedan with tinted windows. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly as they approached but neither twin said anything, so he didn’t either. He had felt the familiar tenor fade as you passed, he knew what they had come to do now, understood it even. Every winter Alec and Jane had worn those threadbare scarves, even when the wool had faded and it was clearly past the prime of its life. You had made a lasting impression on the witch twins, a friend they had made without any interfering influence from the masters or Chelsea or any other outside force. Alec stared at the hospital getting smaller in the rear view mirror. They wouldn’t go to your funeral, they had said their goodbyes to you today, and until the last thread unravelled, he would always have his scarf to remember you by. You had been stitched into the very fabric of whatever was left of his soul, where you would always be, to keep him warm when his heart threatened to turn cold once more.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #alec volturi #jane volturi #x reader #demetri volturi #volturi #volturi fanfiction #alec and jane got to school #scarves #the ending got away from me #i got wrapped up in feels #and hurt my feelings

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flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

Pink and Totalitarianism Always Go Hand in Hand

Here’s the promised crack fic. Disclaimer, this is terrible in every and any form, because it is meant to be that way. If you want quality, structure, a story that makes sense, this ain’t it chief. This is certified Crack. If you finish this and all you can say is something along the lines of “what the fuck”, my work here is done. (Besides, this isn’t edited to add to the overall crack vibe)

Enjoy and good luck, because it get worse and worse as it goes

Masterlist in bio // pinned post

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 4626

Warnings: Mention of drugs, light non-graphic violence, language

Summary: You’re stuck in a world that does not make sense, alone and surrounded by secret police and spies that will report you to the government. One early morning, Jason appears in your living room. His arrival gives you an opportunity to get the hell out of there for good.

You had taken a habit of sleeping lightly.

You, who had once cherished your sleep like it was the rarest gem in the world. Yet, you found out you had still severely underappreciated its importance in your life, something you realized only when it was gone. You missed it like an old friend who was gone to war and died on the front, leaving words forever unsaid. What would you do for just one more night in your bed, with your own pillows and that drool stain that just wouldn’t leave anymore, sleeping like a log until the late morning. Or just a nap, that even would be enough. But you were far from home now, and you didn’t have a lot of hope you’d ever come back.

When you heard a loud thump in the living room, your eyes flew open and your muscles tensed. Pushing off the pink comforter and pulling on the equally pink robe that was draped over the wooden chair, you carefully made your way down the corridor and toward the sound. A man dressed in black and red, with a red helmet complementing his strange outfit was standing there, looking around like he was trying to understand what was going on. You plastered a smile on your face.

“Hiya there” The corner of your mouth hurt from the strain of smiling so wide. “Can I help you?”

“Uh?” He looked up, and even through his helmet you could assume his eyes were wide with confusion. They wouldn’t get you this time, you’d make sure of it. He didn’t fool anyone. “Where am I?”

“Silly!” You laughed, waving your hand in a small dismissive gesture. “We’re in Happy Town, obviously!”

“Uh?” He repeated, already visibly exhausted. That one agent lasted longer than the last, you had to give him that. His confusion was credible and well played down to the last detail. “Listen, lady, I’m sorry I crashed your house but I need you to point me toward Metropolis”

“Metropolis? I haven’t heard of a city of that name” You didn’t drop the smile. The goddamn smile. “Although, you are quite illegal sir, black and red are prohibited colors”

“... What?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to change” You explained. “Luckily for you, I have spares in the bedroom. Come along”

“Wait, prohibited?” He repeated, and you nodded eagerly. A test, it’s always a test. “What colors aren’t prohibited then?”

“Well, pink, you silly goose!”

He stared at you for the longest time. “What the fuck”

You froze. Actual agents were not allowed to swear, under any circumstances. They were physically not able to, even. “What did you say?”

“I said what the fuck”

You let your smile drop and sighed in relief. “Oh thank fuck”

“Hey, stay with me” He waved a hand in your face. “What the fuck is going on? Where am I?”

“Okay, we don’t have a lot of time, but basically” You paused, looking around to make sure all of your curtains were closed. You found a way to disable your microphones, but you had only to sunrise before they turned back on again. It was less suspicious that way, when you could attribute the lack of sound to you sleeping. Besides, you couldn’t risk you saying incriminating things in your sleep. “We are in a side dimension called Happy Town, but things are sketchy here. I don’t know what they are hiding, but if you don’t stick to their gimmick to the letter, you’re going to reeducation camps and stuff. This is some serious brainwashing, and I’m talking worse than Scientology”

“Fuck” He swore, taking off his helmet. “How did I get here?”

“Some portal, I dropped in the same place you did” You spoke quickly, in a hushed tone. “I haven’t found a way out, obviously, but if you came from Earth too, I’m betting there’s something I missed”

“This is insane”

“You tell me” You scoffed. “And you haven’t even seen how bonkers this place really is yet”

“Do I really have to wear pink?” He flinched, and your eyes widened.

“Yes, you do!” You replied. “They will have you under scrutinization as soon as you step out of this house. If you want to survive, you must follow the rules to the letter. They don’t fuck around, I tell ya. When I first appeared, all the neighbors moved away and were immediately replaced by other creepier neighbors. I swear they’re spies. They’re all spies!”

“Wait, how long have you been there?”

“I don’t know, years?” You guessed. Could have been any measure of time really, you couldn’t know for sure. “I have no idea how I got through their brainwashing sessions. Either I outsmarted them, or they have no idea what they’re doing. It’s better not to take any chance, though”

“This is fucked up” He sighed and sat on the couch. “Besides wearing pink, what do I have to do?”

“Oh boy, sit tight” You began pacing in front of him. You didn’t know him, but he was your best chance at getting the hell out of here. Your bed now seemed a little bit closer now, even though you knew you’d never sleep the same. “It’s not just the clothing that’s pink, it’s any fabric, by the way, because happy people like pink”

It was like he was now aware that every couch, chair, carpet, curtain in your house was actually pink.

“You gotta smile, always. You gotta look like chuck-e-cheese on crack” You continued, pacing in front of him. “Talking of which, never, EVER eat pie. I don’t know what’s in it, but it messes with your brain. Always find an excuse or distraction to avoid eating it”

“I’m not--”

“Never allude to the microphones you might find, act like you’ve never seen them and have no idea they’re there” You added. “Also, tomorrow we’ll have to get you registered if we don’t want the secret police to storm the house. You’ll have to follow my lead or we’re both dead, got it?”

“Yeah but--”

“Don’t say anything incriminating during the day” You interrupted him again. “I tweaked the microphones so they’re scrambled from midnight to sunrise. But that’s it. Also, always assume anyone you talk to is a spy or a snitch. It’s the Stasi all over again here, you can’t trust anyone who you don’t hear swear, which is nobody”

“Wai wait” He stopped you as you opened your mouth to continue on. “Why?”

“Because the people from here cannot swear, happy people don’t swear, they smile and giggle” You felt your eye twitch as you recited the lines you were fed over and over again. “The people engineered here are not able to, only those they kidnapped from Earth. Bad news is, beside that, they are virtually non-differentiable from each other. And they all wear those stupid pink clothes, only the regular police wears a darked shade of magenta. Other than that, all the same”

Confusion and horror was evident on his face. He sat there, processing it all as your eyes fell on the clock. You had about ten minutes until the first rays of sun showed up and reactivated the mics. “There’s no way back?” He finally asked.

“Not that I know of yet” You wrapped your hands around yourself. “You know, I have been begging for help out of this hell hole. You might be the key. Anyway, we gotta change you into something non offensive before they find out you’re here”

You dragged him in the bedroom, leaving him at the threshold while you rummaged through the dresser. All those clothes had been there too when you popped in the house, as if they had known exactly what they were doing by bringing you here. However, it wasn’t clear whether or not they had planned for their new citizen to be you. Ad judging by the arsenal of weapons on the new guy, ir reinforced your theory that the actual selection was still experimental. You weren’t exactly the shut up and obey type, and you doubted he was either.

“What’s your name?” You asked as you pulled a pink cardigan out of a drawer. It occured to you that you might have to know what to call him. Polite people knew the name of their housemate. You grabbed a yet again pink pair of slacks and pushed the clothes in his hands.

“Uh, Jason” He replied, surprised at the sudden income of pink fabric. You threw him the socks, suspenders, bow tie, belt and dress shirt that was, you guessed it, the exact same color as the rest. He was covered in pink clothes like a coat hanger.

“(Y/N)”

“Hey, I’m not wearing that” He objected as he took a better look at the clothes. His face turned to disdain as he shook his head like he had drank bad milk. “Nope, no way”

“If you don’t wear pink, they’ll kill you” You said through your teeth.

“No, I’m not talking about the pink” He said, his expression unchanging. He pulled the cardigan and held it up. “This. This won’t do at all. I’m not wearing a fucking cardigan”

You stared at him, wide eyed. You didn’t have the time to deal with that, sunrise was a few minutes away!

“You will wear that cardigan or so help me” You said in a low, yet threatening voice. He recoiled. “Suck. It. Up.”

Wordlessly, he headed for the bathroom on the other side of the bedroom. He changed in two minutes, coming back awkwardly with his pile of dark clothes. You picked them from him and walked to that spot just beside your bed, and kneeled. You unscrewed the floor board, which was already loose, and you deposited the bundle, weapons and all, next to a very, very dusty blue jeans and burgundy coat. You hurried to replace everything like it hadn’t been touched and stood up again to face an all pink, visibly uncomfortable Jason. He was tying his bow, a displeased frown on his face. It made you wonder what was his life before. He changed rather quickly, and didn’t seem confused by the way bow ties worked.

“What now?”

“We gel your hair”

“No” His eyes widened. The wake up siren sounded outside, and like a reflex learned through violent lessons, your face pulled into a pained smile. You still made a zipping motion over your mouth, pointing to the bathroom. With a silent sigh, he complied.

---

His smile looked unnatural.

But again, so did yours probably. So did everyone’s. Smiling that much wasn’t natural for anyone or anything but perhaps a hyena. Or a clown. You walked arms in arms with him, waving at people sending you curious glances, their smiles unwavering. The government was already aware of this presence, either because they zapped him there or because they heard your made up meeting conversation through the microphones.

“Okay, I see what you meant by everyone is a spy” He muttered through his teeth, making sure his lips weren’t moving. He was holding to his grin like it was a lifeline. And it was.

“Right?” You replied in the same manner. “So don’t slip”

“I won’t”

“Well hello there!”

You jumped in surprise at the Mayor appearing in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere. You put your free hand on your heart and laughed. “Hi there, you startled me good!”

He laughed. Jason laughed. It all seemed forced.

“I see we have an addition in Happy Town!” The mayor pointed to Jason, nodding in approval at his attire. “Where did you come from?”

His first test.

“I… Came from Earth!” He replied with enthusiasm. “Although I have to say, I looooove this place. It’s so… Happy!”

Well played, Jason. Well played.

“I am so glad to hear you say that” He placed a “friendly” pat on his shoulder, but he seemed satisfied. “What is your name, lad?”

“Dick Grayson, sir”

You swallowed back your confusion at his words, but also at the hint of genuine smile that crossed his expression. Keep smiling.

“Well Mr. Grayson, welcome to Happy Town!” They shook hands. “I see Miss (Y/N) is already taking care of you, integrating you nicely in our community”

His gaze shifted to you as a silent warning behind those cold, smiling eyes. You had your fair history of problems with them, but they had every reason to think it was over now. Still, the warning lingered. But those pink assholes wouldn’t catch you this time.

“I’ll make sure he becomes one of us in no time!” You assured, giving a light nod to Jason.

“No doubt you’ll make an amazing couple” He tipped his pink hat and you noticed Jason held back a cough of surprise. “The daily play of the anthem is about to start, I must return to city hall. I’ll see you around!”

He waved. You waved. Jason waved. He walked away with a skip in his step like the happy jerk he was.

“Couple?” He said, coming back to your public mode of communicating.

“Sorry, I should have warned you” You sighed internally.

“Sorry?”

“Yeah!” You wanted to burst out so bad. “What about it, Dick Grayson?”

“I wasn’t about to give them my real name” He defended, watching around for people noticing your hushed conversation. But everybody was preparing for the anthem, their attention directed to the morning messages man on the giant screens.

“So you gave that poor guy’s instead?”

“Poor? Nah. Relax, he can take care of himself” What you were sure was a chuckle escaped his lips. “Besides, he’s not even--”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for our national anthem”

You elbowed Jason and stood up straight, the sun hitting the side of your face. He mimicked your posture. The music started, and you could see faltering in the corner of your eye.

“Is this--”

“Yes”

“What the fuck”

“I know”

“Whyyyyyyy”

“Stay with me” You urged silently. You really didn’t know how or why Happy Town’s anthem came to be ‘Yeah!’ by Usher feat Lil Jon and Ludacris, but even if you did, now was not the ideal time or place to get into that kind of discussion. You suspected it had something to do with the exclamation mark after the ‘yeah’. But you could be wrong. You still didn’t understand the bigger picture however, since the lyrics clearly contained the word ‘not’ followed directly by ‘happy’ in the first verse, which made ‘not happy’. It was against the party line.

“Okay, we stage a coup tonight” He decided as the song ended. “I don’t think I can do this another day”

----

Midnight came slowly.

After a day of mingling and presenting Jason as Dick Grayson and your future husband like the Mayor had most probably hinted at during your morning encounter, of slyly getting out of eating pie and avoiding the police, you were glad to finally breathe.

“UUUUGH” Jason whined, plopping on the couch. “I can never look at the color pink the same way ever again. I’m sick of it, sick of it!”

“Get it together!” You snapped. “We need to plan our coup. We’ve got one shot for it, and if it fails we’re toast. I need my bed, Jason. MY BED”

“Alright, what do you have in mind?” He asked, taking a deep breath. “You know this place more than I do”

“I say tomorrow night, we quietly follow the police after their curfew patrol round” You began, biting the skin around your nails. “How good is your stealth?”

He looked at you blankly for a good ten seconds before he let out a small, ironic snort. “Above average, I’d say”

It was like he wanted you to ask why he’d think that, but you were too busy thinking about your plan. “Good, good” You nodded. “There must be some headquarters somewhere. All we have to do is get there, threaten them at gunpoint--Your guns are functional yes?”

“Obviously”

“--So they’ll zap us back to Earth. And if not, we shoot the mayor and take control of this hell”

“That escalated quickly,” He stated. “But what the hell, sure, I’m on board. Let’s go”

“Tomorrow the sun sets at 8:07. We’ll need to be changed and ready to go by then”

“Wait, tomorrow?” He sprung up in his seat, eyes wide. “No, no. I can’t take one more day of pink cardigans and pleasant conversations with spies!”

“DEAL WITH IT” You gestured wildly before calming down almost instantly. You didn’t need the neighbors to hear and report a fight. “Patrol is already over for today. Be smart about this”

“Fine” He sighed aggressively. “But if this flops, I’m taking everyone down with me. There won’t be an after tomorrow, I can fucking tell you”

“Yeah I won’t stop you”

“Good”

“Good.”

You stayed there in silence, unmoving for a moment. This was it. The moment you’ve been waiting for. Your liberation. Your bed was less than 24 hours a day if things went as planned, which you hoped it would.

“I’ll… Sleep on the couch” He mumbled after a while, moving to lay down. YOur eyes widened.

“You can’t” You objected, knowing the government would find a way to find out the scam you were running through that detail.

“Why not?”

“If the secret police comes for a surprise inspection and your side of the bed is cold, we’re kaputt” You explained. “We’re supposed to be at the very least fiancés, remember?”

“God fucking dammit” He swore, looking up at the sky like it would help him. Ha, you already tried that and it didn’t work.

---

The next day, as you prepared the decaf pot of coffee because happy people didn’t need caffeine to be happy, a knock sounded on your door. Jason was taking a shower in the bathroom, so you went and opened the door. Like you had predicted, two men in dark magenta stood at your doorstep with dangerous looking smiles.

“Good morning ma’am” One greeted with a tip of his hat. “This is a surprise inspection, warranted by the new arrivant in your household, name Dick Grayson and title husband to be. May we come in?”

Your smile widened as you stepped aside, like you actually had a choice in the matter.

“Of course!” You exclaimed. “Coffee, officers?”

“We’ll have to politely decline, thank you” The other smiled as they came in and observed the clean state of the house. All houses were required to be neat and clean at all times. They looked around for something out of place, slowly but surely directing themselves to the bedroom at the end of the hall. You followed them a few paces away, ready to answer their question if they had some. It wasn’t your first surprise check.

They finally reached the room, from where they could hear the shower running. Their gazes caught the neatly folded pink pile on the bed, then they surrounded it. They started to feel under the comforter and drapes, on the pillows, everywhere they could spot the presence or absence of another person. You called it, oh you so called it.

The shower stopped, and both officers shared a look. “Alright, everything is in order ma’am. Have a good breakfast and a good day!”

You escorted them to the door, threw them a thank you on the way and silently sighed once the door closed behind them. You returned to your coffee, and not long after, Jason emerged from the hallway all dressed in pink.

“Ooh, who were the gentlemen here?” He inquired cheerily, but you knew what it meant.

“Some nice officers came to see if we were doing fine here!” You replied with equal cheer.

“Shucks, I missed them” He snapped his fingers, chuckling. “Next time perhaps”

“Of course!” The pep in your voice did not match your eye roll. Thank god there were no cameras.

You finished breakfast and went to town once again, like you did everyday. You felt like everyone was staring at you even more than usual. Like they all knew what you planned for that night. You might have been slightly paranoid, but Jason’s calm demeanor was helping. He was good at that, like he had practiced for all of his life to deceive people.

The mayor bothered you again after the daily play of the anthem, a song you were sure would elicit a violent reaction from you once you would be back in the real world. Then, you repeated the same daily routine you had had forever. Smile, avoid the pie, smile, talk with the neighbors-spies, smile, think about how life is amazing, smile.

Smile smile smile smile smile smile.

Eurgh.

That night, the pleasant conversations contained codes to trump the microphones. Jason pretended to dance while you unscrewed the loose floorboard and carefully placed his clothes and weapons on the bed. You picked your old clothes, quietly dusting them off. They smelled weird but you were excited to wear something other than pepto bismol dyed fabric. Making sure the curtains were drawn, you proceeded to change. Jason looked ecstatic to finally be rid of his cardigan, while you took a moment to appreciate your black t-shirt and burgundy coat. While he had his red helmet, he handed you a domino mask from his pocket. You had no idea why he had that, but you took it anyway. It looked cool and rebel. You sneaked through the back door, avoiding the spots of light by either lamps outside your house and street posts. You watched the patrol casually making sure everyone was inside, keeping a good distance in between you and them at every time. They weren’t talking, but whistling some creepy tunes. You had to make a small hike through a hill when they entered a gated tunnel, but you ended up in front of a giant factory where workers dressed in grey buzzed around with crates. YOu gasped.

“Illegal” You muttered.

“What?”

You shook your head. They had gotten to you too much, it was time you left that god forsaken place. “Nevermind. How do we go through that barbed wire?”

He pulled out a medium sized pair of cutters from… You had no idea where, but he had them. You shrugged, gesturing to him to go ahead. In a blink, you were in. You sneaked inside without being seen, navigating the building with guesses and feelings. You finally ended up in the main production room, where crates of products were opened and emptied in a giant bassin. The stirred liquid was purple and smelled strange, but you knew it was to do no good. And right beside, there was the pie filling packaging.

“I knew it!” You hissed under your breath. “They’re putting drugs in the pie! Can you see what it is? Cocaine? Heroin?

“Doesn’t seem like…” He leaned in. “Wait…”

“Al-- Allegra?” You managed to read the crate.”Never heard of it, but it must be terrible and dangerous”

Jason turned his head and stared at you. HIs helmet bore no expression, but you were sure he looked at you like you were dumb. Did he know what it was? “Are you kidding me?”

“No, why?”

“Allegra is--” He sighed. “It’s allergy medication. It’s… Not drugs per say”

“Uh?”

“God dammit--” He paused as something caught his eyes. It was sparkly, and unfit for this environment. From it emerged five armed guys dressed in earth clothes. They had a bag of white substance, which was tasted by the man who welcomed them. “Of fuck, THAT’s cocaine”

You waited as they put some of it in a vial, which already had purple liquid.

“Fuck, they mix it with allegra?” He cursed, mostly to himself. “What kind of fucking insane dimension did I step in?”

“I told you”

“Okay, so those guys will have to leave eventually” Jason pointed at the visibly Earth humans. “We’ll make sure we catch it as well”

“But they have machine guns” You pointed out, not sure how his mind worked.

“Wait for my signal” You knew he was grinning under that helmet. Before you could ask him how the fuck he would manage five armed guys, he jumped over the rail and started running toward them. You shut your eyes shut as gunshots went off, then opened them again when it was silent. There were bodies around, but Jason was still standing, wrestling with two guys. You watched for a few seconds when you noticed a pink figure sneakily approaching from behind, a frying pan in his hand.

The mayor!

You jumped over the rail too, but your landing was way less graceful than Jason’s. Actually, you were pretty sure you sprained your ankle. But still, you ran-limped to the man and jumped on his back before he could bonk Jason’s head with his weapon.

“ARRRRRGH”

He did not see you coming, as he lost balance at your attack. You crashed on the ground, where you managed to get on top and start hitting him. But apparently neither of you knew how to punch, so it was a rather pathetic looking fight. You swapped and slapped, pulled hair and scratched, until you got a hold of his pan and made a pancake of his face.

“Take that you pink fucking nightmare” You spat as you stood up. You turned to Jason, whose shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

“Wow uh” He covered it with a cough. “That sure was an interesting fight to watch”

“Keep mocking me, mister fucking assassin” You rolled your eyes. “I stopped him from bonking your head”

“Alright, alright, thank you”

“No problem” You replied. “Let’s get out of here”

You went and stood on the platform the dealers came through, then waited. But nothing happened.

“I think we need to activate it” He spoke up. That was logical.

You scanned the room for a panel control, and you believed you spotted it on the opposite wall. You grabbed your shoe to throw at it, before Jason held back your arm’s motion.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Activating the portal” You furrowed your brows, pointing at the panel. A big red button on which was written ‘ON’ was glaring at you from the distance. Practical target.

“Don’t throw your shoe, that’s dumb” He snorted. “Let me”

Before you could argue, he cocked his gun and fired a bullet right on the button. A death sound resonated, but nevertheless sparks began to fly and not just from the ruined panel. The portal opened and swallowed you, sending you through flashes and weird colors until you were spat out in a dull, dark place that smelled bad. Jason seemed to have landed just fine, but you were another story. You pulled yourself up, whining at the pain in your ankle.

“I didn’t expect to see you here”

A creepy, unknown voice made you both turn around. It was a pale man with an unnaturally stretched smile and bad taste in clothes, and right away it made you think the worst. You had been thrown in Dark!Happy Town. Without thinking, you let out a war cry and hurled your frying pan to the more evil version of the Mayor, knocking him out instantly.

What you didn’t expect though, was the roaring laughter from beside you.

“Oh--Oh my god” He could barely talk. “I wished I filmed that”

“What? What’s happening?” You asked. Had he gone crazy? “Who’s that? We’re not back home are we?”

“Relax, we’re back” He took a deep breath, his shoulders still shaking. “You’ve just knocked out the most wanted criminal in Gotham city”

“WHAT?”

“Welcome back, (Y/N), welcome back”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #dc #dcu #dc universe #dc imagine #dcu imagine #dc universe imagine #batfam #batfam imagine #imagine #jason todd x you #red hood x you #outlaws #crack fic

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smkkbert · 4 years

Text

Time for a story - Bachelorette Party

“Okay, guys,” Tommy said loudly, looking around the group of friends that was standing around the large bar table, “it’s time for a toast.”

“I hope you mean a real toast like with double bacon and melted cheese,” Roy mumbled under his breath, “because I think I hit my limit on drinking three drinks ago.”

Oliver felt the corners of his lips twitching at Roy’s words. There had been a time when his young brother-in-law could have easily outdrank everyone else. He had been younger and thanks to all the parties Thea had dragged him used to drinking. Now that he was a happy father of one, it was different. He liked to be at home and spend time with Thea and Robbie. Oliver would have to take him aside and appeal to his conscience if that ever changed.

“Sorry, brother-in-law,” Tommy said, putting his hand to Roy’s shoulder, “but it’s going to be a toast to go with our drinks.”

Roy groaned, looking at his untouched glass of whiskey. He had already weakened slightly during the whiskey tasting this afternoon. Since they had arrived at the bar, he had slowed down even more. He was at his second drink, while everyone else was at their fifth drink at least. Bruce had been downing one drink after the other since he had put his foot over the doorstep.

“I want to use this opportunity to, at first, thank Oliver,” Tommy started, turning towards Oliver with a goofy smile that was certainly supposed to hide the real emotions playing in his eyes, but of course Oliver could see right through it, “for organizing this bachelor party. All that time we have been friends in our childhood and youth, I never thought I would have a bachelor party because I never wanted to get married. When I finally did want to, I never thought that I would get it. For obvious reasons I guess.”

Oliver lowered his gaze briefly. He knew that, after his mother had died so young and it had driven his father insane, Tommy had never wanted to get married. They had spent their youth thinking that neither of them would ever get married by choice. After Oliver had returned from the island, it had been obvious that Tommy’s thoughts on marriage had changed. He had been head over heels in love with Laurel, and Oliver had seen that he had wanted their relationship to be as real and as official as it could be. Tommy had died before Laurel could have made a firm stance on what or rather who she wanted though, and then he had been held hostage by his father for years.

There had been a time that Oliver had thought Tommy could never understand him. Barely anyone could have understood what those five years away and the way he had approached fulfilling the promise he had made to his father had done to him. With everything Tommy had been through, especially since his father had resurrected and used him for his own purposes, he might be the person to understand him better than anyone else now, at least when it came to the trauma of torturing and being tortured. Oliver couldn’t be happier that his friend finally got his own shot at happiness.

“I know I missed your bachelor party, Ollie, as well as my brother-in-law’s,” he added with a glance towards Roy, who looked like he was about to fall asleep right there, “but I am very happy that you get to be here with me today.”

Oliver bit back a comment about that fact that he hadn’t had any bachelor party at all. Other than Roy and John, he wouldn’t have known who to invite. Even if there had been more people, he hadn’t needed that. He had been more than ready to be a husband. It was all he had finally wanted to be, Felicity Smoak’s husband.

Of course Oliver knew that it was the same for Tommy know. He was more than ready to be Laurel’s husband. He had probably been ready to get married to her for more than a century. It was why Tommy had said that he didn’t need a bachelor party. Oliver had convinced him though. Having a bachelor party wasn’t about mourning the end of being a bachelor before getting married. It was just about spending some more time with your friends.

“Thank you all for coming,” Tommy said, raising his glass, “so here is to all of you.”

“Thanks for the invitation,” Bruce was the first to reply. “I don’t take this for granted, especially since we haven’t known each other for long.”

“Neither do I,” Nick agrees, “as the youngest addition to this- what do you call it?”

“Expanded Arrow Family,” John replied matter-of-factly. “Felicity invented this term.”

“No idea why,” Bruce mumbled in response and shook his head. “Arrow Family…”

“As the youngest addition to this expanded Arrow Family,” Nick said, “I can say that everyone who gets to be part of this group can be very lucky.”

“For me,” Tommy countered, “everyone who is in on this crazy part of the world where resurrections, superhumans and vigilantes are real, is family.”

With that, Tommy raised his glass. Everyone else did the same. Without saying another word, they clinked their glasses in their minds and took some sips of their drinks.

The whiskey burnt down Oliver’s throat and into his stomach. It had been a while that he had had a drink the last time. Dr. Rosario had advised him as little as possible, so he had stopped drinking almost completely. Only when Felicity opened a bottle of wine in the evening, he had allowed himself to drink a glass.

“Speaking of everyone who is in on all of this,” Nick said, throwing a quick glance around to make sure nobody had listened, “what about Quentin?”

Setting his glass back down, Tommy released a deep sigh. “Quentin and I decided that inviting your future father-in-law to the bachelor party was not a good idea.”

“He and Donna are using the day to take all the kids to the zoo,” Roy said, looking like he was a little more wake now, “which is more than impressive. I mean eight kids and a giant dog that thinks he’s a puppy?”

Oliver chuckled. “Hawk’s a good guy. He is like Peter Pan’s Nana. He loves to take care of the kids. Besides, William hardly counts as a kid. I think he’s going to be a good help, and Audrey is with them too.”

“So two grandparents, two teenagers, seven kids under twelve years and a giant dog go to the zoo,” Bruce said, nodding his head slowly. “Sounds like an interesting combination that will probably make exciting stories.”

“Probably,” Oliver agreed with a chuckle, “but they can certainly handle it. They are a good team.”

“And Quentin seems like a cool guy as father, father-in-law or grandfather,” Nick replied and pointed his finger at Oliver, “definitely cooler than your father-in-law.”

“I’m not going to fight you on that.”

Oliver clinked his glass with Nick’s as this was certainly something they could agree on. Noah Kuttler was not someone to be titled a good father or a good father-in-law or cool in any way. As far as Oliver could say, Noah was everything he never wanted to be. The damaged he had done to Felicity over and over again proved that.

“Quentin is Oliver’s father-in-law though,” Roy said, propping his head up onto his hand, “at least kind of.”

Nodding his head in agreement, he raised his glass towards Tommy once more. He didn’t have to toast to sharing a great, even wonderful father-in-law for Tommy to know that this was what it was all about. All that was needed was a look between the two friends, and they knew.

“Nick,” John, who had been quiet most of the time this day, suddenly said, “I have heard you are working for the SCPD now.”

Oliver looked back and forth between his best friend and his newly won brother-in-law. So far, these two hadn’t changed much words. Although they knew each other longer than even Felicity knew her brother because they had served in Afghanistan together, there was something strange in their relationship. In Gotham City, they had seemed like they really trusted each other. The same had shown when Nick had been introduced to his nieces and nephews as well as Donna Smoak. The more he had grown into the Queen Family, the more John had seemed to distance himself though.

It had taken Oliver a while to realize it. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure of the reasons. He had his suspicions, but he wasn’t sure yet. As long as he wasn’t sure, he wouldn’t voice any of them. It wouldn’t be fair to John, who had been able to look through him so many times and who had still kept those thoughts to himself until he had been sure that Oliver was able to face a confrontation with that.

“I started working for the SCPD this week,” Nick confirmed, nodding his head slowly. “It’s exciting to be back, but it’s also weird. I haven’t been working a normal job in what feels like forever. Just hearing myself being called Lieutenant Cash feels so surreal.”

“I felt the same way when I returned,” Tommy said, “then again, I am leading a nightclub, so one could say that I still don’t have a real job.”

Tommy grinned and sipped at his whiskey. He obviously didn’t mind that something like that had indeed made the headlines not that long ago. As the fiancé of the District Attorney, the media had felt like they could once again write lame articles about him to remind everyone of the bad decisions he had made in his youth or the traumatic experience he must have gone through when his mother had died and his father had attacked the city and brainwashed him into following his mission. At least that was the official story they had made up when Tommy had found his way back to who he truly was.

The media were strange, but Oliver and Tommy had both learned to live with them it seemed. They knew that the media would always find reasons to bring back the old stories and make up new rumors about it. That just wouldn’t change, no matter how much they changed.

“Quentin is a great help. He’s a good Chief,” Nick added eventually, “and of course I have Felicity. She’s the greatest support I could have wished for. I don’t think I would have found my way back into civility if it hadn’t been for her.”

Oliver observed John’s reaction closely. Although his friend was just nodding his head slowly, Oliver could see through it. It seemed to get clearer and clearer why John had started distancing himself a little from Nick. As long as he wasn’t ready to admit that, Oliver would keep quiet though. John had done the same for him uncountable times already.

“When it comes to little sisters, you have certainly hit the jackpot.”

Nick smiled. “Yes, I have.”

Oliver was about to argue that he and Tommy couldn’t complain either, but Bruce suddenly frowned and nodded his head towards the door.

“Speaking of little sisters,” he said, “Oliver, isn’t that yours?”

Oliver, just like everyone else, turned his head to follow Bruce’s gaze towards the door. Indeed, Thea was coming in. After a quick look around, she called something back over her shoulder. When she entered the bar and strolled into their direction, she was followed by Laurel, Felicity, Lyla, Caitlin, Iris and Cisco.

The seven had been spending the day together for Laurel’s bachelorette party. Since Thea had planned the day and had made a big secret out of it, Oliver had no idea how they had spent the day. If the thick clothes they were wrapped in and the red tips of their noses were any indication, they had spent quite some time outside.

The moment Thea stepped to the table, Roy asked her, “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t ask.”

Thea rolled her eyes and snuggled herself to Roy’s chest, seeking his warmth it seemed. She was shivering so much that her teeth were chattering.

“Thank God, you’re here,” Felicity said as she approached the table too, already reaching out her arms, “slightly drunken and absolutely freezing wifey needs hot hubby to warm her up.”

Oliver chuckled at her choice of words and the way her voice was slightly slurred. She had indeed a little bit drunk and for the stiff way she was moving probably chilled to her bones. He would gladly warm her a little.

It had been a while since Felicity had been drunk the last time. He wasn’t sure if that was the reason or if maybe she just lost balance and didn’t notice it. Either way, right before she could sink into his arms, she took a slight turn and suddenly had her arms flung around Bruce’s neck instead.

Oliver had trouble suppressing a chuckle at the panicked glance Bruce shot him over the top of Felicity’s head. He held his hands away from Felicity’s body like he was afraid of touching her. He actually reminded Olive of what Roy had looked like when he had first held Baby Emmy in his arms.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Wrong man.”

Frowning, Felicity lifted her gaze. Her eyes widened and a deep blush spread on her cheeks when she looked into Bruce’s eyes. She quickly turned her gaze towards Oliver, and looked back and forth between the two men.

Oliver didn’t know what was more hilarious, the expression on Bruce’s face when Felicity had attacked-hugged him or Felicity’s facial expression now that she realized who had been on the receiving end of her hug. The whiskey that was warming him from the inside out made it easy to just be amused about this and not feel the slightest stitch of jealousy or whatever else.

Quickly, Felicity took a step back. Her blush deepened, taking on an even darker shade of red. “Sorry.”

Bruce rolled his lips into his mouth and pressed them together, nodding his head. Oliver knew how hard this was for him. He had just found his footing when it came to being Felicity’s friend despite his feelings for her. A little awkwardness like this could easily cause him to lose his balance again.

Oliver had to know because it had been the same for him too. Back after his very first date with Felicity, he had distanced himself from her. It had taken a while until he had found a safe ground to be around her, even more so after he had seen her kissing Ray and they had become a couple, and even then, that safe ground had been quite unsafe. When he had touched Felicity or seen her with Ray or she had pep-talked him like she had always done, he had felt like that safe ground was being pulled away from right under his feet.

It just wasn’t easy to be friends with someone that you were in love with but you knew you could never have.

Felicity hurried to step into Oliver’s arms, wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling her cheek against his chest. Oliver put his arms around her as tightly as possible, rubbing his hands up and down her back to warm her, and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. He could only hope that he offered some warmth that way.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled and turned her head, so her cheek was still resting against his chest, but her eyes could lock with his, “I swear I knew that you are my husband.”

Oliver chuckled. “I am relieved that you didn’t forget that.”

Dipping his head forward, he rested his forehead against hers for a moment. Felicity’s skin was almost radiating cold, so he was glad to offer his body to warm her up a little bit. She was still trembling slightly, but he could feel her muscles relaxing more and more as they warmed up.

When Felicity’s lids fluttered until her eyes eventually fell shut, he chuckled and leaned back a little. He looked at her face intensely.

“Are you that tired or that drunk?”

“Both,” Felicity replied, “I had to take Laurel’s and Thea’s drinks.”

“What as sacrifice.”

“Right?” Felicity grinned, but it turned into a long yawn. “Thea decided not to drink for Laurel although Laurel insisted that it wasn’t necessary. She was happy to watch all of us drink to her happiness.”

“So Thea rejected the alcohol for Laurel, and you took one or rather two for the team and took their portion of alcohol too?” Oliver grinned. “That’s my girl.”

Placing another kiss against her forehead, he turned them around, so they were facing the rest of the round. By now, everyone had gathered around the table again. John was standing behind Lyla, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to warm her. Laurel was snuggled up to Tommy’s side, and Thea almost disappeared in Roy’s jacket that he had put around her shoulders. Nick and Bruce had moved a little closer together to make room for their friends from Central City. Iris, Caitlin and Cisco were all holding onto each other in an attempt to get warm.

“Now, what are you doing here?” Roy asked once more. “I thought you wanted to enjoy your ladies’ day and not hear anything from us.”

“Hey!” Cisco complained.

“I correct.” Roy cleared his throat. “I thought you wanted to enjoy your ladies-plus-Cisco day and not hear anything from us.”

All of them had had breakfast together this morning before they had parted ways. When it had finally been time to start the individual parts of their days, Thea had indeed claimed that contact between the two party-groups was completely forbidden. Apparently, they hadn’t been able to get through the day completely without their men.

“That was the plan,” Thea grumbled, “and it was going great.”

“Oh yes,” Laurel agreed, nodding her head firmly. “Thea did a great job as my maid of honor. I couldn’t have wished for a better way to spend this bachelorette party. It was fun.”

“We played paintball,” Lyla filled them all in and grinned triumphantly. “I won.”

“Yeah, but Lyla had unfair advantages considering she is using weapons on a daily basis,” Felicity whispered towards Oliver. “From everyone who is not used to using weapons, I won.”

Oliver smiled and kissed that soft spot under her ear that always made Felicity purr like a kitten if he just touched it before he whispered back, “You must have done very well. I’m so very proud of you.”

“Anyway,” Thea continued, “we wanted to spend the evening camping. I had everything planned out, and we could have easily spent the entire night there without ever getting bored, but it was so damn cold. Not even the bonfire helped with it, so we decided to find you and have you warm us.”

“That sounds fair,” Tommy said, nodding his head, “and something we can do very well.”

With that, he turned around and waved for the waitress to come to their table. The young brunette hurried to comply, knowing that they would give her a giant tip. It wasn’t the first time Tommy was here after all. With the small notebook and a pen in her hands, she approached them.

“What can I do for you?”

“We could need four pots of different teas and seven pizzas, already cut into slices if possible.”

“Any specific wishes what pizzas you want?”

“Surprise us.”

“Gladly.” The waitress smiled at Tommy before she looked around. “Anything else? More whiskey or something?”

Since nobody answered, she nodded her head and left towards the kitchen. She was almost dancing her way towards it.

Laurel rested her chin on Tommy’s shoulder and looked at him with her eyes full of love. Tommy smiled at the sight, perking up his eyebrows. He didn’t have to ask the question for Laurel to know that he wanted to know what he was thinking. Just like every good couple, they didn’t have to communicate with words.

“Tea and pizza,” she said with a low sigh, still smiling, “you always know what I need. It’s one of the reasons why I am sure getting married to you is the best I can do.”

“From now on, I am going to be your good genie,” he told her, “everything you wish, is my command.”

The smile that spread on Laurel’s face reached all over her face. It took over her lips, her eyes and everything else. It was impossible to miss how happy she was.

“You do know that you don’t have to do that, right.”

“Maybe I just want to.” Tommy grinned. “So, I guess pizza and tea are going to be must-haves in our home forever?”

“Absolutely.”

The two looked at each other for a long moment before their lips met in a gentle kiss.

Smiling, Felicity leaned back into Oliver’s arms and snuggled her cheek against his bicep. She was happy for her friends. She had found her great love long ago, and, if it was up to her, now everyone should find the same happiness. Especially the people closest to her should experience the same kind of love. The sooner, the better.

* * *

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Text

Second Chances - Ch. 25

Farewell to Old Friends

Warnings: swearing, blood, murder

Word count: ~10,200

Masterlist

Read on AO3

The afternoon after your return sees you helping Pearson put his stew out. His meals have been lacking in ingredients since the donation box was destroyed. No one knows who did it or is fessing up to it. Dutch didn’t really seem to care when Grimshaw told him, another worrying sign. Micah has stuck suspiciously close to Dutch’s tent nearly the entire time you’ve seen him. The one time he did wander away was to torment Jack, but John surprisingly came to the boy’s defense.

You sigh heavily after setting out the stew, wishing to get away from here already. You had more nightmares last night of being trapped in a cage and your leg burned painfully. The pain had been intense enough to wake you early in the morning and you cuddled into Arthur’s arms as he slept.

You look over to him now and see him wandering over to his tent, Reverend Swanson sitting on a crate nearby. Swanson has really cleaned himself up since arriving at Beaver Hollow, having not taken any of his supply of morphine. In fact, Sadie mentioned to you she had seen him dumping it into the river. His hair is swept back and his mustache trimmed, his eyes clear instead of bloodshot. At least this place seems to be pointing one person in the right direction.

Arthur picks up a conversation with the reverend as you spoon up two plates of stew. Just as you’re about to head over to Arthur, Dutch walks over to him and says something you can’t hear. Arthur nods and they go into Arthur’s tent, sitting down. You head over and hear Dutch say, “We’re gonna get a boat, get on a river and go north. Then Tahiti, the Fiji Islands, or this new place, New Guinea. Dancing girls, freedom. But first we have to make a whole lot of smoke, a whole lot of commotion and then we disappear.”

“We really need more commotion?” Arthur says as you hand him a plate and sit down next to him.

Dutch pauses, throwing you a sharp look and then continues. “One score, and a hell of a lot of noise, Arthur.”

“We ain’t so good at doing scores anymore, Dutch.” Arthur sets his plate down without eating. You can’t say you blame him, you’ve hardly had an appetite either. You set your plate down as well.

“You feeling alright, Arthur?” Dutch asks him.

“Of course.” Arthur grabs your hand on the cot, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Dutch.

Just as Dutch opens his mouth to say something, Charles joins the conversation. “Pardon me for interrupting.” The three of you look at him and see he’s followed by Eagle Flies, son of the Wapiti chief. He’s flanked by Javier and Karen, holding their rifles. He wears a simple, tanned hide shirt and pants, a rifle strapped to his back. The three of you stand up as they approach.

“Dutch, this is Eagle Flies,” Arthur says, shaking his hand. “His father is a great chief. Charles and I, we erm…”

“Pretended to be mercenaries,” Eagle Flies finishes for Arthur, looking directly at Dutch. “Did me a great favor.”

Dutch waves off Javier and Karen, then shakes Eagle Flies’s hand and introduces himself.

“How’s your father?” Arthur asks.

Eagle Flies looks at Arthur, his strong jaw set. “Father has confused wisdom with weakness. His people, my people, we’ve suffered too much, been lied to too much. Now they’ve taken our horses.”

“Who has?” Dutch says.

Charles steps forward. “The infantry division posted at Fort Wallace.”

“Colonel Favours is a liar and a murderer,” Eagle Flies says angrily. “His people won’t stop until we’re all dead. Without horses, we cannot hunt, without hunting, we will starve. This is another act of war. Your men helped me before and I have money.” He pulls out a bundle of bills, holding it to Dutch.

Dutch looks at the money and then back to Eagle Flies, his face unreadable. “Put your money away, son. What do you think, Charles?”

“You know I told your father I will not fight over some horses,” Charles says to Eagle Flies.

Dutch pauses and tilts his head, his eyes gleaming. “But I made no such promise.”

Arthur lifts his hand as though to stop Dutch, who ignores him and walks towards the horses, followed by an intrigued Eagle Flies. Charles turns to Arthur with a worried expression.

“Arthur, we must go with them. Try to stop things getting out of hand.”

Arthur nods and starts following Dutch, who has already mounted up, with you and Charles in tow.

“We can get them more horses,” you say. “A fight shouldn’t be necessary.”

Arthur looks at you. “I know.”

“I understand Eagle Flies is angry, but I don’t see how this will help anything,” Charles says.

“Especially not with Dutch whipping him into a frenzy. We got enough folks coming after us without adding the army to the list.”

He and Charles mount up and you’re just about to hop into Rannoch’s saddle when Arthur calls your attention.

“Darlin’, stay here please. I have a feelin’ they want as few people involved as possible.”

“I helped before, Arthur,” you retort.

“I know, but do this for me. Please?”

You sigh and set your foot back down. “Fine. But you owe me for this.”

He smiles at you. “And I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You begin walking away slowly as Dutch continues ruffling Eagle Flies’s feathers. “You’re going to let these bastards walk all over you? No, you’re not! This is all that’s wrong with the world.”

“The horses are on a boat near Van Horn. I have a man waiting for us there with some canoes,” Eagle Flies says, cantering down the path, followed by Dutch, Arthur and Charles. You watch them until they’ve long disappeared.

You turn away, going back to the tent to clean up the uneaten plates of stew. The clearing falls silent again now that Dutch has left. The silence is near unsettling, unnatural and you look around. Everyone seems to be miserable and isolated. Your eyes draw to the cavern and as you stare, it seems to grow wider, the air cooling in a sudden breeze. It threatens to swallow you, forcing you to run over to Rannoch and mount up. Grimshaw hollers at you but you ignore her and speed down the trail away from the horrible clearing.

Once you’re down past Butcher’s Creek, you stop Rannoch and lean down to rest your head on his neck, patting him as you catch your breath. He snorts softly. You feel incredibly weak, like you have no ability to survive in the clearing without Arthur’s presence.

“What is wrong with me?” you angrily ask to no one. You think back on when you survived alone after murdering your family; before you met Arthur. It had been so easy to be independent, to not need anyone, but now you can’t seem to do it. Shame rips through you and you force yourself to lean up.

Looking to the west, you see the sun setting beyond the craggly hills. You figure you need to hunt so you can eat before sleeping, but as you stand next to the Elysian Pool, you recall the sickly animals around it. The lake’s green and brown water draws your eyes, reflecting the sickly appearance of the animals. Here would not be a wise place to hunt, so you head west.

The trail takes you up into a lush green mountainous region, with smooth gray mounds flowing from the thick grass. Despite the late hour, you decide to try hunting. Just as you’re reaching down to grab your bow, a voice calls out from behind a large boulder.

“Stop right there!” It’s followed by three men coming out from behind the boulder, rifles pointed at you. Your face grows cold as you notice their appearances: ripped pants or overalls, wild tangled hair, scratched faces and thin limbs. Murfrees.

“This here’s a robbery, little girl,” one of the men says through brown teeth. He gestures for you to get off your horse with his rifle. Your mind begins to race until you recall what Arthur taught you about what to do when you’re the one being robbed instead of doing the robbing. You comply with the man, dismounting, although you never take your eyes off him. He shoos Rannoch away and approaches you, his rifle aimed.

“Now don’t do nothin’ and we’ll make this nice and quick,” he says. He stops at an arm’s length from you and you’re prepared for him to search your coat, looking for money or trinkets. Your arm twitches slightly as you prepare to quickly whip out your revolver. When the man is within arm’s reach, his mouth widens in a slimy smile.

“We was plannin’ to kill you all along!” he hollers and his finger pulls the trigger. Instinctively, you lean to the opposite side of where his rifle’s pointing so he fires into the air and you whip out your gun, shoving it into his ribs and firing. He falls with a loud grunt after splattering you in blood and his companions stop laughing, firing at you. A bullet grazes your upper arm, but you don’t feel the pain of it. You quickly take aim and fire at them both. You hit one in the eye and the other in the chest. The headshot victim falls immediately, but the other clutches his bleeding chest and tries to run, but after a few feet, he collapses, gasping.

You lower your revolver, breathing heavily. You look down and see you’re soaked in the Murfree’s blood. As the foulness of this sinks in, your arm begins to burn painfully. After holstering your gun, you put a hand on the wound and begin walking towards Rannoch. You whistle for him and he runs over, whinnying. After reaching into his saddle bag, you pull out your tent, setting it up so you can take your shirt off and inspect the wound. Once you do, you see it’s just a shallow cut, but it’s bleeding quite a bit. You take some whiskey and pour it over the wound, making yourself hiss. Once that’s done, you bandage it up, tying it tightly.

You reach into your satchel to see what food you have and all you find is a can of peaches and a wedge of cheese. You debate on hunting, but after the attack, you’re exhausted and your arm still burns. You’ll be lucky to hold a bow still for even a few seconds like this, so you quickly eat the cheese and peaches. Afterwards, you lie down in your bedroll, still feeling shaky.

As you begin settling down in your bedroll, images of your past experiences with the Murfrees begin playing. You see the cage they kept you in, another cage with a mutilated corpse, the horrible shrine, a man barely lit by lantern light dragging a screaming man. A Murfree pointing a rifle to Rain’s head. The pain of this memory slams you in the chest and you sit up, planting your head to your knees and rocking back and forth.

Suddenly you hear footsteps outside your tent. You quickly, pull out your sawed off from your off-hand holster. Another Murfree must have noticed the bodies and seen your tent close by. You wish you had pitched it further away from the scene, but you hadn’t been thinking logically. The footsteps get closer to the front of the tent and you point your gun, your finger on the hammer. The flaps twitch and you pull it down. Arthur’s face suddenly peaks in.

“Jesus, Arthur!” you hiss, quickly lowering the gun. “Give me a heart attack!”

“What the hell you doin’ out here?” he says, coming into the tent. “I see them bastards got your arm.”

You look down at your exposed arm, the bandage clumsy and slightly bloody. “Yeah. I couldn’t be in that clearing anymore.” Your voice cracks, making you feel ashamed of yourself for having lost it a moment ago.

He sighs and sits down next to you, pulling you into his chest. “I know, sweetheart. I ain’t even had nothin’ bad happen to me there and I hate it.”

Now that you’re settled into him, you realize how cold you were. You shiver as his heat soaks into you; his hand slides up and down your back, trying to warm you up. After a few moments, the shivering stops. He kisses your head and pats your back.

“You had anything to eat?” he says quietly.

“Sort of. Just some cheese and peaches,” you say, trying to sound stronger and braver than you feel.

“Hmm, that don’t make a very satisfyin’ meal. Come on, I’ll cook ya somethin’.”

You slide your shirt back on and follow him out of the tent to sit around the fire. As Arthur places two hunks of venison onto the grill to cook, sprinkling some thyme and sage onto them, you wonder how he found you. You hadn’t told anyone where you were going, so you ask him.

“Ah, after we got the horses back to Eagle Flies, I had to do a job for Strauss.”

“Strauss?” you demand. He hadn’t asked Arthur for anything for several weeks.

“Yes. He, uh, wanted me to do more debt collectin’.”

“Arthur. I thought we both decided you were done.”

“I know, I know. I asked him to get one of the other fellers to do it, but he said none of ‘em would, and he don’t want Micah to do it no more. Worried he’d kill another debtor. Anyways, I said yes and one of the debtors was out this way. Now, before you get mad, I’m gonna tell ya that I didn’t take the money from the man.”

“Why not? That’s the point of collecting them, isn’t it?” you say, trying to hide the sourness from your voice.

“I was gonna, but feller was a deserter of the army. Turns out he deserted ‘cause he married an Indian woman and she was real pregnant. Probably due any day. Well, the army ambushed us and set his wagon on fire. All he had left was some jewelry but I let him keep it. Needs somethin’ to feed his wife and child with.”

“Okay. Well, I guess that ain’t so bad then. Strauss didn’t ask for anymore, did he?”

Arthur rubs his neck uncertainly. “One more. A feller named Arthur Londonderry. Miner. I’m hopin’ he ain’t in another bad rut, but based on the people crazy enough to take Strauss’s terms, odds are he is.”

He pauses for a moment to flip the meat over.

“Honestly, darlin’,” he continues, “I’m gettin’ tired of Strauss’s jobs. I’m sick of beatin’ and terrifyin’ the desperate people who take money from him. The coal miners, pregnant maids, people who can’t find work.”

“So then don’t do it, Arthur. Don’t go after this last man and tell Strauss to do it himself.”

“Maybe. I might just absolve the debt anyways, at least tell the man so. Strauss needs to find another means of gettin’ money for the gang. Robbin’ people proper is more kind, I think.”

You slide over to sit next to him and wrap your hands around his arm, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I agree, Arthur. But that doesn’t explain how you found me?”

He smiles. “Well, I was on my way back from that thing after I met a one-legged veteran. Think you’d like him. Anyways, I was comin’ across the path when I spotted those dead Murfress. Saw Rannoch sittin’ by your tent, so knew it was you.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” you say, rubbing his arm. You hope he doesn’t notice the desperation in your voice.

He chuckles and then sighs, pulling his arm from your grip so he can pull the meat off the grill. As you both eat it along with some beans and bread rolls, Arthur asks if you’re okay. You look at him briefly and he’s looking at you the same way he did when he first met you and tied you to a tree, asking why you killed your family. The same feeling of needing to hide pulses throughout your body, making you look away.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

He sighs and puts down his tin of beans. “You ain’t gotta hide things from me, darlin’. Thought that was the point of us getting married?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just… hate being vulnerable.”

“Darlin’, I want ya to know that I’m here for ya, always will be. I ain’t gonna blame you for hidin’ what you’re thinkin’ from everyone else, I understand, but I wish ya would open up to me.”

You look back up at him, his blue eyes seem to be glowing in the firelight. He’s right, of course, but even the idea of being open to someone so they can see who you truly are is an alien concept. Finally you nod.

“I want to, Arthur. I just… I don’t know how.”

He sighs and scoots closer to you, putting an arm behind you.

“Well, maybe I can help ya. Tell me what you feel. Even if it’s somethin’ you don’t understand.”

You sigh and stare into the fire, thinking how to translate what you’re feeling into words.

“I guess I… I’m scared, Arthur. Not just of these damn Murfrees or what might happen to us; the gang. Scared because before I met you, I could go for days without any contact with people and I was okay with it. When I was with my parents or my ex-husband, I craved that isolation. Now I can’t go more than a day without seeing you. And don’t even get me started on that clearing and how I can’t stand to be there.” Your eyes are pulled up to the stars as a tear runs down your cheek, afraid he might laugh.

Arthur sighs again and his hand slides over your shoulder. “Does it make you think you’re weak?”

Without looking away from the stars, you nod. He asks you why. “Because I was brought up to believe that if you need other people, you’re weak. Only the strong can stand alone.”

“Sweetheart, that ain’t how it works. It don’t make you weak to ask for help or to need people. Hell, I’d be completely lost if I didn’t have you anymore. Do you think I’m weak for feelin’ that?”

You look at him finally and shake your head. “You’re the strongest person I know, but you don’t need anybody.”

“Well, you’re wrong there. I’ve depended on the gang for twenty years, depended on Dutch and Hosea. But more than them, I need you, darlin’. I know I can trust ya with anything, that you’ll always be by my side no matter how things are.”

He suddenly smiles at you. “To be honest, when I first started havin’ real strong feelings for ya, it scared me, too. And not just because I thought you might do what Mary did or what happened to Eliza and Isaac would happen to you, but because I had never felt that for anyone in my life. It felt weird to need someone that much. So I understand, sweetheart. But I want ya to know that I ain’t ever gonna think of you as weak or pathetic. Ya always have my back. What I think of you is that you’re thoughtful, kind, selfless. What ya are is the person I love most.”

You hadn’t become aware of doing it, but you’re leaning into him and your hand is on his chest. You feel yourself blush at his words and it makes you smile. Resting your head on his chest, you kiss the part of it that’s slightly exposed beneath his blue shirt.

“Big chest for a big heart,” you say with a small chuckle, running your hand up his firm body.

He chuckles as well, his hand on your shoulder rubs gently. “Now you’re talkin’ nonsense.”

“No, I’m bein’ serious. Never knew such a big, strong man could be so sweet and soft, but I like it. I love you.”

His lips brush your forehead and you can feel he’s smiling. He whispers gently that he wants to go into the tent and settle down for the night, so you both get up and go inside. Arthur lies down next to you on his side, his back to you. Smiling, you roll over and press yourself to his back, draping your arm over his side to rest on his stomach. His hand grabs yours and squeezes, a soft rumble goes through his back as you lay your head against it and drift off.

The next day, Arthur takes you back to camp, despite your protests. He says he has to do a job that Micah set for him with Bill in order to get dynamite.

“Micah’s gettin’ too big for his britches,” Arthur says as he leads you down the trail towards Beaver Hollow. “He’s startin’ to act like he’s the boss.”

Once you’re back in camp, you get down to helping a rather intoxicated Pearson cook dinner. You push him down to sit to avoid him vomiting into the pot and go to chopping vegetables and meat. As Arthur approaches Bill, Grimshaw stops him to tell him he’s received a letter. He goes to get it and is reading it as he walks over to you.

“Who’s it from?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately. “Penelope Braithewaite.”

“Huh?” you say. “Why she writing to you? We haven’t had anything to do with her family since that mess with Jack.”

“I know. She’s askin’ for my help in gettin’ her and Beau out of Rhodes. Sounds like they’re in a mess. You wanna come? Imagine they’d like you, and they’re good people, despite their families.”

“Sure,” you say, leaning on the table. “Come get me when your job with Bill is over and we can go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a smile. He leans down to kiss you briefly and then Bill calls him.

“Morgan! You gonna smooch your future missus all day or we gonna get this done?”

“A’right, a’right, I’m comin’.” He throws you a wink and heads off with Bill.

For the next hour, you continue cooking for Pearson, even adding a few extra seasonings, trying to give the gang an excuse to be in a better mood. However, with the lack of donations coming in, the ingredients you have to work with are slim with little variety. Luckily, with all the hunting you and Arthur have been doing, there’s plenty of meat.

After what Arthur said to you last night, you feel a little better about being in the clearing. Although it’s still ugly and the cavern still sits on the edge like a permanent reminder to how bad things are, it no longer threatens to swallow you. Despite being vulnerable with Arthur, you feel stronger.

Micah saunters over as you cook, coughing a little. “Ah, the future Mrs. Morgan ready to prove how useless she’ll be as a wife.”

“Fuck off, Micah,” you say, not even looking up.

“Now that ain’t no way to talk to me, girl. I’m workin’ my ass off with Dutch to get us out of here, somewhere better, and you can’t even offer a nice word.”

“And what about you, Micah?” you snarl. “You ain’t ever offered a nice comment to no one except Dutch. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you offered to wash his feet if you felt it would benefit you in any way.”

“Keep talkin’ that way,” he says, leaning on the table and putting his face inches from you. “And you’ll wake up with Morgan’s head in your bed.”

Without thinking, you take the knife in your hand and slam the tip into the table, centimeters away from his thumb. “Give me a reason, Micah, and I’ll cut off more than just your finger.”

He smiles, taking his hands off the table. “Always liked that fight in ya.” He walks away.

You finish cooking as quick as you can, not wanting to give Micah another chance to antagonize you. Finally, you heave the pot with its pitiful stew over the fire and call everyone over to eat.

Not long after you set out the stew, Bill and Arthur return. Arthur quickly reports in to Dutch, telling him the dynamite is safely stashed somewhere. Dutch nods approvingly as he smokes a cigar.

Arthur comes over to you, looking somewhat irritated.

“What is it?” you ask, finishing packing up a few provisions into your satchel in your tent. “Ah, nothin’. Pinkertons are all over Van Horn and Annesburg now. Result of us killin’ Cornwall.”

“Great. So much for them easing off of us without Cornwall filling their pockets.”

“Exactly. Anyways, you ready to go?”

You nod and quickly mount Rannoch, riding out of camp without even bothering to eat. On the way, you tell Arthur about what happened with Micah.

“Like I said,” he says, “he’s gettin’ too big for his britches. Now how about you don’t give him a reason to come after you? Man’s unstable enough.”

You both ride on south as the sun sets. Arthur decides to stop and camp for the night on the border of New Hanover and Lemoyne. In the morning, you wake to find him sitting up, a strange expression on his face.

“What is it?” you say groggily.

“Nothin’,” he replies, pulling you into his lap.

“Arthur,” you shake yourself awake. “Now don’t you start hidin’ things from me.”

He smiles, rubbing your arm but being careful to avoid your cut.

“I just… had more of them dreams last night.”

“What dreams?”

“Of a big ol’ buck. Just drinking from a lake. I wish I could figure out what it means.”

You sigh into his chest. “I don’t know, honey. But what do the dreams make you feel?”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes far away. “Well, they make me feel like… like we’re gonna be okay. Like things are gonna get better somehow. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“Sounds like they might be a good thing, Arthur. Who knows? Maybe it’s your spirit animal.”

“Don’t joke, darlin’. Come on, let’s go help these kids.”

You chuckle and crawl out of his lap. After a quick breakfast, Arthur leads you down the trails towards Braithewaite manor, or what’s left of it. The mansion is nothing but a blackened husk with a few broken pillars still standing. The two of you sneak past it, heading to the edge of the lake where small cabins line it.

“She said she’d be by the boat house,” Arthur explains, dismounting Artemis next to it. You follow him around the building and find a rather pretty young woman sitting on a bench, dressed in a smart, blue dress with a top hat sat on her blonde locks. She looks up at the sound of your approaching feet. When she recognizes Arthur, she shoots up to her feet.

“Oh you came!” She shakes his hand and then reaches down for a small bag.

“I came,” Arthur says.

“Thank you you lovely man! Ah, may I ask who your companion is?”

“My apologies.” Arthur puts his hand on your shoulder and Penelope offers to shake your hand. You take it, smiling and tipping your hat to her. “Penelope Braithewaite, this is Y/F/N. She is my future wife.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, Mr. Morgan! I’m so happy for ya both! I myself am hoping to become an engaged woman, but that all depends on today’s success.” She releases your hand and then peaks around the corner of the boat house back to the other cabins, as though worried someone is watching. “Now come on, we ain’t got a minute to lose.” She turns back to Arthur, looking worried. “They killed her! They killed Ms. Calhoon! All she wanted was a better life for women and they killed her, those pigs.”

“Who killed her?” Arthur asks.

“I don’t know! My cousins probably or… or Beau’s. They’re monsters! Can you please take me to the train station? Beau will be waitin’.”

“Why couldn’t he come rescue you?”

“If they saw me and him together they’d lynch him and send me to a nunnery. Or maybe they’d lynch both us, I don’t know, they do like hangin’ folk.” She peaks around the corner again

“Where you headed?” you ask.

“Up to boston.”

“Good,” Arthur says. “They’ll like you up there.”

Arthur begins walking towards the horses and you and Penelope follow him. Arthur offers Artemis’s back to her and she hops up nimbly, despite the dress. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed. Arthur kicks Artemis into a canter and you follow, skirting around the cold, black remains of the mansion.

“So Beau’s just waiting at the station?” Arthur says to Penelope. “In the hope you’ll show up? Or I’ll show up to help you show up?”

“He goes there every day he can, makes up some excuse or other. I said he would see me there one day soon, and today he will, God willing.”

“Well, if he’s there, that’s true love alright.”

As the horses run, Penelope explains that she hasn’t seen Beau since the rally. You recall back in Clemens Point Karen and Mary-Beth discussing a women’s suffrage march. She continues to say how awful things have been since the house burned down and the Gray’s were murdered in town. By the way she talks, you realize that she has no clue Arthur was involved in both those things. The yellow train station comes to view just as Penelope says, “Something good must come from this awful, awful feud.”

Arthur stops Artemis and Penelope slides off. She looks up towards the doors of the station. You follow where her eyes go and spot a young man with thick, dirty blond locks, reading a newspaper.

“There he is! It’s him!” Penelope says excitedly. She turns to you and Arthur. “Will you ride on the train with us a little, just to the first stop?”

“Fine,” Arthur grumbles. You can tell he’s still worried about the gang. You are, too. There’s a lot of work to be done still. You take his hand in yours.

Penelope runs towards the young man. When he sees her, his face cracks into a wide smile and he opens his arms, to which she jumps into.

“You came! At last, you came!” He says, letting her go.

“Oh, Beau, my best of men, of course I came!”

“I’m hardly a man at all, but I love you Penelope Braithewaite.” Beau grabs her hand.

“Beau, Arthur and his fiance are gonna join us. I think we need the support.” She asks Arthur to buy the tickets, explaining they can’t risk being seen. He nods, still seeming slightly irritated. You pat his arm as the four of you go into the station. Arthur stops to buy the tickets and you accompany Beau and Penelope outside to wait near the tracks.

“I’m very sorry,” Beau says to you, offering a hand. Penelope’s are wrapped around his other arm. You shake it. “I’m afraid I ain’t properly introduced myself. Beau Gray.”

“Yes, I came to that conclusion. Y/N.”

He lets your hand go. “Your good Arthur has helped Penelope and I quite a bit. Why, I ain’t too sure where we’d be without his help.”

You’re just about to say something when you notice two men, one fat and short and the other tall and skinny, looking angrily at Beau.

“Hey, boy!” the fat one says, approaching Beau. “What you doin’ here, and with a Braithewaite no less!” He and the skinny one grab him as Penelope shrieks for them to let him go. You go to the fat one and start trying to yank him off. You’re just about to pull out your revolver when Arthur barges through the door. He pulls Penelope off and tells her to get on the train. He yells at you to follow her onto the train, which you do as he begins punching the skinny one.

“Who are those fellers?” you ask Penelope as you stand near a couple rows of seats.

“Those are Beau’s horrible cousins. I’d say more about them, but with how my own family is, I ain’t got much room to talk.”

You both peak outside just as Arthur knocks out the skinny one. The fat one throws Beau down and goes to beat up Arthur. Beau dashes on board and stands next to Penelope as Arthur starts fighting the fat man.

“I was worried my cousins might find me here,” he says a bit breathlessly.

“Well, at least Arthur’s here to cover you,” you say, still watching as your future husband slams the fat man’s head against the wall, knocking him out. Arthur quickly runs on board, massaging his bruised knuckles.

“That is quite a family you got there, son,” Arthur says to Beau, coming to a stop next to you.

“I know, charming to the last. Then again, my uncle used to keep his own half-brother as a slave, so what do you expect? Good manners?” Beau and Penelope sit down, Arthur slides into a seat next to the window and you sit next to him. He drapes his arm across the back of the seat behind you so he can talk to the others.

“My uncle used to say things were better the way they were when you could rape and kill with impunity and he didn’t have to work a day in his life,” Penelope says.

“Both our families,” Beau agrees. “There’s good people in this county but our families bullied them and drove most of em off. All over this silly feud.”

Arthur starts leaning his back against the wall, looking as though he’s ready to take a nap. You smile at him and that’s when you see a large troupe of men on horses following the train. Penelope and Beau see them as well.

“Oh my Lord,” Beau says quietly.

Penelope gasps. “Oh I think it’s my second cousin!”

Arthur leans up and looks outside. He pushes you off the seat so he can stand up. “What is it with all these goddamn cousins?” he says.

You pull out your revolver and sawed off. “Come on, Arthur. We can take ‘em.”

“I think they found out about the jewels,” Penelope explains, her hands clasping her bag. Arthur sighs and tells them to keep their heads down as you both run to the next car, which happens to be a flatbed, laden with crates and barrels. You and Arthur hunch down beneath some of the crates and open fire on the Braithewaites chasing the train.

Arthur shoots two of them in the head and then hunches down to reload. As he does, you hear him grumble. “She must have all the jewels in the state with all these cousins! She robbed her own family blind!”

“Good for her, I guess,” you say, killing another rider.

For the next few moments, you and Arthur take down several more riders. Just as the last one falls, the train begins to slow.

“What the hell?” Arthur says. He holsters his pistols and you follow him back into the car where the other two wait.

“Are we being robbed?” a woman in the back says. You and Arthur ignore her, going to Beau and Penelope. Just as you reach them, a man, dressed like the engineer, dashes past the window on foot. The others see him too.

“I think that’s the driver!” Beau says.

“Hold on, I’ll go check,” Arthur says and he runs up to the front of the train. You stay with Penelope and Beau just in case anymore of Penelope’s cousins show up. You take a seat just as the train begins moving again, but Arthur doesn’t return.

“Quite charming families ya both got,” you say, resting your back against the wall. “Bein’ in your place, I probably would’ve robbed them, too.”

Penelope offers you a small smile. “Well, what about your family, miss Y/N?”

“Ah, they’re all dead. Been dead more than a year now.”

“I don’t know whether to apologize or not, ma’am,” Beau says.

“I wouldn’t apologize if I were you,” you say, giving him a sly smile. “They’re dead by my hand. My previous husband, too.”

“I take it they didn’t see things the way you did?” Penelope asks.

“Nah. They were, well, I guess a bit like yours. Felt that loyalty was something to be freely given through nothing more than a similarity in surnames but did nothing to earn it. My father, the bastard, paid a man to marry me and that man beat me almost everyday and raped me near as often. I ain’t never known a proper family life.”

“Well, Mr. Arthur seems like a good man,” Penelope says. “Told me he never really had a family before neither. Maybe ya can both teach each other what it’s like to have one.”

“Well I certainly hope so. I still don’t know why he decided he wanted to keep me around for the rest of his life, but I’m grateful he did.”

The train heads on further west, rolling over the broad river on a bridge called Bard’s Crossing. It travels further into West Elizabeth and then curves north, approaching Riggs Station slowly. It stops near the station and Arthur comes back into the car. Beau, Penelope and you stand up.

“Mr. Arthur, why have we stopped?” Beau asks.

“It’s best you go it alone from here. Take a stage,” Arthur explains. He gestures for them to head off the train and then takes your hand.

“I didn’t know you could drive a train,” you say.

“Neither did I, but if I’m honest, it was kind of fun and I didn’t kill any of us. Well, I killed some of their relatives, but they would have killed all of us.” The four of you get off the train and Beau turns to Arthur.

“You are a gentleman, sir!”

“No, I ain’t.”

“Yes you are. Here, I ain’t got much money, but,” Penelope reached into her bag and pulls out a gold bracelet covered in blue jewels, “these sapphires are worth a lot of money. Old family heirloom.”

Arthur huffs and picks up the bracelet, holding it up to the light. “That Braithewaite treasure. I couldn’t take it.”

He hands the bracelet back to Penelope, who drops it into her bag.

“Now,” Arthur continues, “let’s get you off to Boston before any more of your relatives show up.”

Arthur guides them over to a stage sitting on the path, the driver sleeping in the top seat. He drops your hand and climbs onto the stage, waking the driver. “Hey, this couple is heading north, to the Boston line. They got money, they’ll pay you on arrival.”

As Beau opens the door for Penelope to climb in, Arthur asks the driver, “You carry protection on a journey like this?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a stage driver if I didn’t. Goes everywhere I do.” He suddenly cries out in protest as Arthur reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out his pistol.

“Miss Braithewaite is gonna hold onto this until arrival.”

The driver sighs in irritation, waving his hands as he turns to the front. Arthur climbs down and hands the pistol to Penelope. “On account of the treasure on your person.”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she says as she climbs into the coach, the pistol tucked into her bag.

“You’re a fine man, sir,” Beau says and climbs in after her. Arthur closes the door and waves to them as the stage drives off. Penelope sticks her head out and yells, “Congratulations on your engagement!” You wave back to her with a smile as Arthur takes your hand again.

“A’right, darlin’,” he says quietly once the stage has disappeared. “We need to go to Saint Denis.”

“Why?” you ask. You haven’t been down there since the attempted bank robbery.

“Dutch and Sadie wanna meet us there, keep sayin’ there’s somethin’ we need to see to. Don’t know what, Dutch wasn’t really talkin’ much.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

He smiles at you and then mounts up on Artemis, you following on Rannoch. He takes you to Valentine, where you both hop onto another train and go down to the city. When you step off, you look around, disgusted. You thought this city was foul before, but now it’s repellant, tainted. Arthur grabs your hand and guides you over to where the horses are being unloaded from a train car.

After mounting up, you go to the old tavern where you and Arthur had met Sadie before going on the hot air balloon ride. As soon as you walk in, you can hear Dutch talking.

“Looking like a lady won’t help us if you’re not going to act like one,” Dutch says gruffly.

“I’m fine,” Sadie snaps. They’re both leaning on the bar, not drinking. “Don’t worry about me.”

Dutch turns at the sound of the door opening and spots you both. “There you are.” He puts his cigar out in an ashtray.

“Here we are,” Arthur says, his hand folded around yours.

“Today is a great day, Mr. Morgan,” Sadie says, glaring at her untouched bottle of beer. “Today they’re hangin’ Colm O’Driscoll.”

Arthur says. “I guess that’s why we’re here in this godforsaken city. But there’s one problem.”

“And what is that, Arthur?” Dutch asks grumpily as he leads the three of you to the back of the saloon.

“That boy’s been on the gallows more than most,” Arthur says. “I won’t count nothin’ until his neck’s broke.”

“Well, nor would I,” Dutch reaches behind the door of a small room and pulls out a large sack. He grabs you and Sadie and shoves you both into the room.

“What the hell are we doing in here?” you say as Sadie reaches into another large bag.

“We can’t go to his hangin’ lookin’ like ourselves,” she says, pulling out a yellow dress. She reaches inside and grabs a red one, throwing it to you. “We gotta go disguised.”

You sigh but decide not to argue. Although the last thing on your list to worry about is the O’Driscolls, seeing Colm hung is something you’re not going to miss. You toss the corset and petticoat into the corner, always having hated wearing them, and slip into the red dress. Sadie smooths down the waist of her yellow dress and then reaches into the sack again, pulling out broad sun hats, throwing you the red one. After making sure you look decent, you and Sadie leave the room.

Arthur and Dutch inspect you quickly, nodding their approval before heading into the room themselves to change. A few moments later, they come back out, wearing the thick wool uniforms of policemen.

“So first you were a deputy of Rhodes,” you say, brushing his shoulder lightly, “and now you’re a lawman?”

“Shut up,” he says, although he’s smiling. He looks at the tall, bowled hat in his gloved hands. “This is ridiculous.”

“Come on, Arthur,” Dutch says, heading to the back door with Sadie. You and Arthur follow him out to the back alleyway as Arthur puts on his hat. You fall in behind Sadie, Arthur tailing the group as Dutch leads the way.

“We need to keep our weapons holstered,” he says as heads down the winding alley, “our disguises on and our wits about us.”

“Mrs. Adler, Ms. Y/L/N,” Arthur says, “might I say, being fancy women of Saint Denis suits you both.”

“I’d dress up like the Queen of Sheba if it meant seeing that son of a bitch swing,” Sadie growls.

“Colm hung me up,” Arthur says, “nearly butchered me, that don’t mean I’m comfortable in this woolen coat.”

“You made it outta that predicament, as I remember Mr. Morgan. My husband weren’t so lucky.”

“You lost your husband,” Dutch says gravely. “I lost my darling Annabelle. Y/N nearly lost her future husband. That poor boy, Kieran. We’ve all lost something because of Colm. That is why we will shepherd him into eternity.”

You smooth down your skirt nervously, unconvinced that you look okay. “I just want this over with. These bastards have been a thorn in our sides for too long.”

“Now keep those fingers off those triggers ‘cause we’ll need cool heads and calm dispositions to see this done,” Dutch says as the main street comes into view.

“Practice what you preach, brother,” Arthur growls.

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” Dutch spits.

“Are you going to keep your cool? Really? When you seem to lose it, oh so often now.”

You find Arthur’s comments strange. While he’s been questioning Dutch’s motives since returning from Guarma, he’s only voiced his worries to you in private. To see him calling Dutch out openly now is odd, especially when in the past you’d heard Arthur say he’d happily die for the gang, always the most loyal man to Dutch’s commands. You wonder what happened to finally cause their relationship to snap like this.

“This doubting and questioning of yours,” Dutch says. “I miss the old Arthur. The one who had no woman on his arm, but a rifle and unwavering loyalty before.”

You feel the sting of Dutch’s comment. You understand now what Arthur meant that he might try to attack you. You recall the look on his face when Arthur announced your engagement, the smoldering glare hidden beneath a fake smile. It makes you nervous to think of it now when Dutch has been so easy to rile up lately.

“Hey, don’t blame this on Y/N,” Arthur snarls. “It’s your recent actions that have been makin’ me question, she ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”

“Whatever you say, Arthur.”

“Can we get back to makin’ sure Colm swings?” Sadie barks as the group heads on down the street as casual as possible. “We all got a job to do, and we’re all in rough agreement about how we’re doing it.”

“Exactly,” you agree, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

Dutch grumbles something as the group heads on towards a stone square where the gallows sit. A crowd has gathered beneath it, waiting expectantly. Three men stand on the gallows, one of them with his hands bound behind his back and a cloth over his head. It must be Colm.

“Don’t the public just love an execution,” Dutch says quietly as you approach the square. He stops by the entrance, his back facing a brick column. You and Sadie stop near him and Arthur stands by the other column, looking into it. Dutch folds his hands in front of him, pulling his disguise together perfectly.

“Now, you see those three assholes?” he says, gesturing with a nod of his chin to three men standing inside the square, playfully punching each other as though this were a carnival and not a public hanging. “They’re Colm’s boys. What a surprise. I’m glad we’re here.”

You and the others study them for a few seconds. One of the men points up to a building across the street, focusing on the roof and says something to his companions. Dutch follows where he points, his jaw set. “What are they pointing at?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur says. “We should follow ‘em, try and find out.”

As if on queue, one of the men walks out of the square right between Arthur and Dutch. They lower their heads, scratching their faces, but the man seems oblivious to them as he walks down the street on the left.

Dutch takes a step forward and commands you both to stay put. Arthur looks at you and Sadie, his eyes gentle. “Don’t do nothin’,” he says and follows Dutch. They disappear down the street as you and Sadie stand by the columns.

“I been waitin’ for this day a long time,” Sadie growls under her breath.

“Like Dutch said,” you say as you watch the two remaining O’Driscolls. “We’ve all lost something to these assholes. They nearly robbed me, tried to hold me for ransom, too. Only Arthur was the faster shot.”

“You and Arthur got lucky,” she snaps, watching them as well. “Arthur got out while my husband was shot in the head. Not only that, they only robbed you while they did worse to me.”

“This ain’t a competition over who got the worse end of the stick, Sadie. These bastards need to be taken down. Remember what this is about: preventing them from doing what they did to us to more people in the future. No more widows and orphans because of Colm O’Driscoll.”

“There won’t be. Not after today. Even if these morons fail to hang him, I’ll kill him myself.”

“I don’t think anyone would stop you, neither.”

The sheriff of the city police suddenly steps up onto the gallows and raises his hand, calling for silence from the muttering crowd. “Fair citizens of Saint Denis. For as long as any of us can remember, it is justice that separates us from barbary. Yet justice itself can, at times, be barbaric. For sometimes a man is so savage, the only way to deal with him justly is through savagery. Colm O’Driscoll is one such man.”

The cloth draped over the man’s head is whipped off, revealing Colm’s sweaty face. You’ve never seen him this close, but he’s an oily, foul man with a clever grin. Two officers march him onto the main gallows just in front of the noose just as Dutch rejoins your side. Arthur is nowhere in sight. You look at the building where the O’Driscolls had been pointing and see a familiar figure in an officer’s suit standing on the roof, a long rifle in his hand. If you hadn’t noticed where the O’Driscolls had been pointing, you would never know Arthur was there.

The sheriff continues on speaking to the crowd, listing out Colm’s crimes as the officers place the noose around his neck. “Today,” the sheriff calls out, “justice catches up with him.”

Colm sneers at the crowd, looking confident. “As well you may,” he says in a voice as oily and stringy as his hair. “I been a bad man.”

One of the officers quickly ties a cloth around his face, stuffing it into his mouth, preventing him from speaking.

“This is not a court where you shall be tried,” the sheriff continues. “This is a place where your sentence is to be carried out.”

The O’Driscoll whom Dutch and Sadie followed rejoins his companions. Dutch, Sadie and you follow him. Luckily they stand in the back of the crowd. You grab one of them by the throat, whipping out your sawed off and pointing it at his head just as Sadie and Dutch grab the other two, doing the same. The man in your grasp grunts and you hiss in his ear, “Don’t you damn move.”

“Colm O’Driscoll,” the sheriff says. “You are to be hanged by the neck until you are dead.”

Colm is the only man to notice the situation with his men. His eyes widen nervously and he looks at a point high above your head to where he must see Arthur. His face pales as the sheriff continues speaking. Even from the distance between you and him, you can see he’s beginning to panic, coming to the realization that this is truly the end for him.

“Gentlemen,” the sheriff says, “are we ready?” The two men nod as Colm stares ahead, terrified. “Colm O’Driscoll, may God, in his infinite wisdom, have mercy upon your soul.” The sheriff beckons to a man standing next to the lever as the crowd calls out approvingly. The man pulls the lever and the floor drops beneath Colm’s feet. He falls and jerks to a stop, his body squirming only for a few seconds before dangling still, his neck broken.

Sadie hisses beside you into the ear of the man she threatens, “Now you know what it feels like to watch someone you love die.” She pauses and stares at Colm’s body. Anger seems to flow from her like waves as she screams out, “You ruined my life!”

Without warning, her knife slices across the man’s throat. She pulls out her pistol and shoots first your prisoner in the head and then Dutch’s. People in the square scream and bolt, running from the sound as Sadie shoots towards the gallows at the alarmed policemen. Dutch grabs her, hollering and dragging her towards the wall forming the square. You follow, tossing the sawed off into your left hand and whipping out your revolver with the other.

From around the corner of the square, more O’Driscolls appear, shooting towards the three of you.

“Morgan!” Dutch yells as you take cover behind a tree. “If you can hear us, take a shot!”

A loud shot rings out in response, a stream of blood shooting out from the temple of an O’Driscoll running right for you. A huge fight breaks out between you, the O’Driscolls and the police. Dutch keeps a firm grip on Sadie’s arm as she fires upon the O’Driscolls, you shoot into the crowd as well until you realize it would be better to let the others take each other out, allowing you to pick off the stragglers. You holler this to Dutch and he nods in your direction, hunching down behind the cart.

The air is filled with the sounds of guns firing, more men fall as Arthur continues firing upon the O’Driscolls. As more of them die and the police head off towards the survivors, you, Dutch and Sadie move up closer to the street. As you approach the edge of the square, a cart rolls up with an O’Driscoll manning a gatling gun. Just as he begins to fire, his body is thrown forward as Arthur’s bullet plunges into his back.

As the gatling gun falls silent, the few remaining O’Driscolls scurry off into the city, pursued by the last few officers left standing.

“The cart,” Dutch says. “Move. Now!”

You and Sadie run over to it, hopping in and Dutch takes the reins. “Well, we got him. Let’s get out of here.” He waves to Arthur, beckoning for him to get lost. You look back and see Arthur returning the wave before disappearing as the cart begins to move.

Dutch drives back to Beaver Hollow, throwing off the officer’s coat and hat. You take the large, feathered hat from your head and toss it into a muddy puddle as the cart leaves the city behind.

“Ah, I have been wanting to see this day for many years,” Dutch says, whipping the horses to go faster.

“That bastard got what he deserved,” Sadie growls beside him.

“At least now he won’t be a problem,” you sigh heavily.

The rest of the ride is quiet and uneventful. Still, when Beaver Hollow comes into view, your heart sinks. Dutch pulls the cart to a stop and hops out, retreating to his tent where Micah dutifully awaits him. Sadie leaves, tugging at her sleeves, leaving you to unhitch the horses.

Just as you’re removing the bridle from the last of the two horses, Arthur pulls up on Artemis with Rannoch in tow. He hitches them up and walks over to you.

“Glad that’s dealt with,” he says quietly. You nod in agreement, throwing the bridle to the ground.

Tilly walks over. “How you both get on?”

“Well, we saw the bastard hang okay,” Arthur says, “but it ain’t gonna save us, I guess. It’s at least one less thing to worry about.”

Tilly nods and then she stares at him hard. It’s only now you see she has what looks like an envelope in her hand. “A letter came for you,” she says to Arthur, handing it to him. “I know it’s from that Mary. She ain’t worth it, Arthur.”

Your heart drops at the name. Arthur’s face has become oddly blank as he takes the letter. With everything going on, you’ve forgotten all about her. Not only that, you thought that the one time you met her and slapped her in the face, the message that Arthur was yours had become clear. Arthur thanks Tilly and she walks away.

“Arthur,” you say, your voice cracking.

“I know, darlin’.” He finally looks at you. “Listen, I want ya to read this with me. I want ya to know that no matter what it says, my place is with you.”

He offers you his hand, which you take, and guides you to the tent. After sitting on the cot, he rips open the envelope and tips it so the letter and something small falls out. He catches the object and holds it up. It’s a gold ring with a small, purple stone set into it. Along with the letter is a photograph of a young Mary standing in front of a young Arthur. You study his portrait’s face. He lacked a beard or any stubble and his hair was slicked back. Even then, he was handsome.

Arthur places the ring on the cot and folds open the letter, reading it aloud. The letter says she is happy for him for finally finding someone who makes him happy, although you’re sure she’s full of crap. She then reprimands him for possibly being involved in a bloody shoot out involving the city trolley in Saint Denis. She writes that when she had been with him, life seemed bliss but she regretted seeing him in the first place all those weeks ago. She had the audacity to write: “There’s a good man within you, Arthur, but he’s wrestling with a giant. And the giant wins, time and time again. You’ve broken my heart again. For that, you must let me go. I enclose a ring you gave me many years ago when we were both young, not because I don’t like it, but because I care for you too much. I hope by returning it to you I can finally be free and that it brings your fiance happiness. Good bye.”

By the time Arthur is finished reading the letter, his hands are shaking. You can’t blame him. How dare she say those things, acting like you’re Arthur’s second option? He puts the letter down and picks up the ring and the photo.

“Goddamn it, Mary,” Arthur growls. “She just had to have the last word.”

“She writes as though she expects us to be married for a year before one of us gets killed or runs off,” you mutter angrily.

“That’s probably what she wants, darlin’. Then she can go back to usin’ me the way she did before.” He grabs your hand and squeezes it, leaning his shoulder into you, as though knowing you’re comparing yourself to her again. “That ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart. I’d choose you any day over her. Never once have you made me feel bad about my life or tried to make me change. And the fact that we’ve been engaged this long and you’re still around surprises me.” He laughs lightly, making you smile. “Point is, Mary’s tryin’ to plant doubt in my head, or maybe both our heads. Don’t let her.”

He squeezes your hand again and then looks down at the ring in his hand, fumbling it between his fingers.

“It wasn’t your mother’s, was it?” you asked, your eyes flickering over to the flower in a glass jar on the table. You know that was his mother’s favorite species, which is why he’s kept it so long.

“No, darlin’. When… when I was 19, Mary had a real big fight with her daddy. Don’t remember what for, but her way of gettin’ back at him was to ask me to marry her. I agreed, of course. I went and bought this ring a few days later.”

Hosea had told you this story shortly before Arthur asked you to marry him, but you let him tell it.

“We set the date only a few weeks after we decided to get married and, well, a day or two before the wedding I got a letter from her sayin’ she couldn’t break her daddy’s heart like that, marryin’ a criminal. Few months later, I found out she was married to someone else.”

“Arthur,” you say, clutching his hand. “She was never good enough for you.”

He looks at you, his hand folding the ring as if he’s trying to crush it. “I got lucky with you, darlin’, but I don’t deserve ya.”

“Oh, shush,” you say, putting a hand on his cheek and kissing him gently. When you pull away, he smiles and then flings the ring behind him; it flies towards the river and out of sight.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #Van Der Linde Gang #R*#rockstar games #arthur morgan x fem #I'm awkward #it's so fluffy i'm gonna die!#second chances

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 years

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@whosxafraid

All Hands || -

who wakes up first in the morning

She’s a genius, sometimes. Preloads the coffee pot with fresh ground Kona beans and water, even sets the timer so that it brews just as he’s waking up at 0430. He supposes it’s a lifetime of being a dependant ~he doesn’t call her a brat to her face unless she’s being merciless in her teasing~ and being used to keeping odd hours. Still, it gives him time to get out of bed. Go for his PT run through Battery Park, before stopping for the paper and to bring home breakfast. He’s just finishing up in the shower when she starts to stir a few hours later.

“Mornin’, luv.” The way she smiles at him, her face still soft with sleep makes a man think better about getting dressed, and he envies the covers wrapped around her stretching limbs. “Mornin’.” It’s sin in a single word, he swears, the way she answers back.

Some days he wins the battle, sometimes he dives right back in, wrapping wet limbs around her for just a few more minutes.

who’s the first to fall asleep at night

The two times a year if she’s lucky that Luka gets to be home gets the bulk of her vacation days. Of course she’s worked at the hospital for years and they don’t have a nurse that works harder than she does, so maybe they indulge her seldom requests when she asks for it. But these two weeks at a time don’t change much of anything. When night is still newborn in it’s cradle, he heaves a yawn and drops his cheek on top of her head as he reads and she knits, leaned against him. The start of his day is typically the approaching end of hers, and their diurnal cycles are out of sync. Not that Beth sleeps very much. Still, she’s quiet though.

“Ready for bed?” she asks and they both know she’s being polite, but that if he says yes, she’ll go with him, even if it means hours of laying beside him, listening to him breath and staring up at the light patterns on the ceiling from her nightlight. “No yet,” he says. His arm around her tightens. She gets it. When you have such little time together, sleep seems like a waste. But it isn’t long before he starts nodding off.

“C’mon, sailor. Take me t’ bed,” she murmurs as she sets her granny-squares aside and slips into his lap.There’s a rumble in his throat that almost sounds like grumbling before an arm comes up under her knees, and the other one secures her to his chest. Socked feet on the floor, a slow and groggy trudge navigating living room and hallway before one shoulder shoves the door open just long enough for her to be carried inside. And while he’s careful to set her down, he practically flops down on the empty space across from her. Asleep almost before his face crashes onto the pillow. She smiles at this every time.

what they playfully tease each other over

“Target lock. Beginning approach.” She’s come back from the car where she’s spent the last twenty minutes filling up water balloons from the melted ice in the cooler. She was supposed to be reapplying sunscreen which she did, though she doesn’t need to. Beth doesn’t burn under the sun’s kiss but only gets darker, closer to the natural hue of her Kanak ancestors. “Releasing munitions.” Seconds later the stressed balloons splatter against Luka’s broad, bare back as he lies peacefully on his belly, arms folded under his head, dozing away in the warm heat. It’s pleasant and the sand beneath his towel radiates that perfect autumn afternoon up into his muscles. Or did, until he’s covered from neck to tailbone in biting ice cold water.

“Ye wee flute…be sk'eelin’ when oi’ catch ye!”

He heaves up and chases her, barrelling down like a semi versus a bunny rabbit, and it doesn’t take long before he’s got a hold of her around the middle with one arm. Hoists her up bodily no matter how much she squirms and shrieks between fits of laughter that pour over him like gold. He carries her to the water’s edge. Wades in hip deep, the cold of the sea nothing like what was splashed on him minutes ago. And down she goes, power slammed into the rushing waves that rise up and cushion the fall. She laughs harder even as she goes under. The only thing he’s done is return her to her element. This is where she belongs. And then she’s got her legs curling around his pulling him off balance.

what they do when the other’s having a bad day

When Luka has his bad days, he’s usually on his ship or out in the field. And they are relatively standard; equipment malfunctions, bad or wrong Intel, a scuffle with some shit bag from another unit or service. Higher-Ups on the food chain, because they say shit rolls down hill, things like that. All part and parcel of being in the Navy.The harder things for him to deal with come in waves, usually late at night when he’s alone. Whether it was the fears seeded into him a long time ago by Dani, or not exactly knowing what’s going with his relationship with Beth… it’s a bit of the same from different sides. Normally he’d take himself to the gym or weight room, work off that tension, or go stand under the sharp steady flow of a hot shower.

But when he’s ashore? That’s not really an option.Out of the blue, she drops her arms around him. Smothers most of the oxygen with her presence. She doesn’t ask any questions, leaves it up to him to decide if he wants to talk. Something he knows doesn’t happen with her unless she’s with him. He’s seen the texts from her father. He sees how her brother treats her day in and out and she only gets mad when it’s even suggested that she deserves better than that. So he becomes a rock that she can tie herself to, to guide her back from the rough waters in her head. He makes whatever concessions are needed, whether it’s pretending nothing is wrong and simply eating the ordered take-away, or running his fingers through her hair. She disappears for too long sometimes, but he’s patient and he waits.

They are a two man team, after all.

how they say ‘i’m sorry’ after arguments

She pours everything inside onto blank pages and bruise coloured ink. Words she can never quite get out in whole or in pieces. She tells him the reasons why she is to blame, and where those reasons come from. She apologises in a dozen different ways, and the worse she feels, the more she writes. It isn’t the same as a gesture, but to Beth it’s important to acknowledge where she’s gone wrong. To shoulder as much rational blame even if there’s nothing that really makes sense outside of the spaces in her head where she connects strange dots. She makes promises and he knows that she will go to any lengths to keep them once she’s given them. It’s very different from the way he does things. He will apologise simply. He will say that he is sorry and then follow it up with gestures that might be appreciated; soothing ruffled feathers with gentle touches. Replacing, if he can, whatever is broken or misplaced. Attempting to recreate the moment that was lost. Actions speak louder than words, he’s heard that all his life and he knows that no amount of words will ever survive contact with her ears and her psyche.

If anything, that’s one of the big issues between them, isn’t it? But he’s still grateful. She might slam a door. She might cry until she’s empty, but she’s never attacked his character as a human being, and she’s never thrown punches. Though he’s not sure that she’s got the strength to do any damage if she did. She’s a tiny thing, inexpert at fights like that, doesn’t have the heart for it. And she can’t possibly understand the thickness of his emotional scar-tissue. God willing, she never will.

which one’s more ticklish

Spartan. We thought you dead. Beth’s toes are an evil in this world. She reaches the leg she considers the good one out, glances at the inside of his knee. Feather soft, makes the muscles and tendons twitch. He lets it go with a glance away from the screen. He’s sure that the Master Chief can survive a fraction of his attention splintered away to the wee woman on the opposite end of the couch who just moments ago was reading The Frontier Nurse Practitioner: A Conceptual Model for Remote Rural Practice. Which he’ll ask her about when she’s not involve with it.

Bear your fangs, Spartan. Fight hard. But then she slinks down further on the couch and what she’s grazing isn’t his knee this time. And it looks like Master Chief is on his own in this one. And his mind goes momentarily dead air-white noise. Static and the sound of a breath, though he’s not sure if it’s his or hers. It sounds something like a half chuckled, “…’Eeey.” He doesn’t toss the controller onto the table but places it with slow deliberation onto the coffee table. Eyes intense. Never leaving her face. Watches her narrow her eyes and flick her tongue out over her lower lip, body tensing in anticipation.And he doesn’t disappoint, because he knows Elizabeth Riley’s weakness, and that she’s particularly ticklish along her inner thigh.

And die well.

their favourite rainy day activities

What begins as a sunny morning, cool and moist turns into a heavy, constant drizzle before noon. Plans made to visit the farmer’s market and maybe hike through Central Park literally wash through with the rain and its accompanying sounds of thunder. Instead of the great outdoors, they spend the day in. Music soft enough not to further drown out her ability to hear things ~but enough to temper how loud she says the rain is~ becomes curling up on the couch. Each of them taking turns reading a passage out of their joint book.

He makes them soup and grilled cheese for lunch. It’s her favourite, and maybe reminds him of when he was a kid, although he’s pretty sure the fridge back then wasn’t stocked with twenty dollar cheese, organic twelve grain seed and nut bread. In fact, the only thing really recognisable is the Kerrigold butter.

But the best part of an unexpected rainy day is pulling her down onto him. Her head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around her, and a throw blanket keeping them warm and secure. They doze on and off together, watching the rain streak down the floor to ceiling windows and for just a little while Luka can forget about having to leave soon. To go back to combat zones and lonely hours and the very real possibility that this might just be the best moment he’ll ever have. And maybe he understands Boss a little better when he says that he’s thinking about retiring.

how they surprise each other

She sends him little things in care packages from home. Things that he doesn’t let the other guys see really; a freshly laundered towel spritzed with the essential oil blend she wears instead of perfume so that his pillow in his impossibly small bunk can smell a little like home. Toffee sweets from the particular shop in the City he likes so much. New books on his Audible account, little sim cards full of videos and pictures that he can slip into his phone. He’s pretty sure that dark purple almost black satin and lace nightie was an accident, and she tossed it into the wrong box. Just like he pretends that it was on purpose and she doesn’t want him to forget the feel of her skin or the warmth of her frame pressed into it at night. He sent that back the second he got to port, and it’s a good thing he’s a light sleeper and he never got caught with it; contraband can get you smoked. And mocked. And on your record against future promotion. He doesn’t want to be a Lieutenant forever. And in turn he wishes he could see her face when she opens the things he sends. Seashells from foreign beaches to carry whispers from both himself and the ocean in exotic tongues. An etching from a local shrine or graveyard to add to her collection. Photos of the local flora and fauna. Little worry dolls made by children in this village he can’t name, or sometimes a blouse or dress in a size that always gets him asked if it’s for his daughter. But the best surprises are when he gets to come home, even if it’s only for a few hours.

their most sickening shows of public affection

They call it dancing. It’s only a few layers of clothing away from grinding her into the club wall and he gets drunk on the look of ecstasy on her face as she loses herself in the heavy throbbing of the music, the heat of the crowd and the fire in their blood, the nearly seizure-inducing strobe of neon lights. He can all but smell the want coming off of her through her sweat, through the way she murmurs his name when she’s managed to climb her way up him, legs wrapped around his hips, his arms straining from holding her just there.

It’s almost the same way she jumps into his arms when he comes off the bus now, or the way she clings to him before he gets back on it. All that’s missing are the wracking sobs and having to pull her off him as reluctantly as he does. Or remembering they aren’t the only two people reuniting after a long tour. Ten months, fifteen days, nine hours, forty-two seconds, not that he’s ever counted. Beth is a slow death with her lips pressed against his jugular. And the killing blow is the cold shower that he knows he’s taking later, though he wonders what would happen if she walked in. Would she watch? Would she come in? It’s not something he really needs to think about, but sometimes, it’s also not anything he can help imagining. Especially when those sharp little teeth of hers threaten to break skin and she moans against his throat. Not enough whiskey to wash that away.

#whosxafraid #Wave over Wave|Seal Luka O'Rian #Sea over Bow|Luka and Beth #Letters from Home|Travelling Soldier AU #Brooklyn Stories|New York #{{reuploaded because tumblr's effing formatting issues}}

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