#i also have noticed tight pants and slightly heeled boots force me to walk better for some reason???

[fingertipsmp3]

I was really sitting here like “2023 is the best year I’ve had in a long time in terms of ‘not trying to kill me’, I haven’t gotten sick once” and then I remembered the fucking catastrophic knee dislocation that’s had me limping since May

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter one

here she is!! after the long wait, here is the first chapter of north! I hope you all like it. let me know what you think. more chapters to come soon🖤

also i dont have a tag list for this but if anyone wanted to be tagged in this fic then let me know and I’ll create a tag list

genre: fluff

pairing: spencer reid x female oc

warnings: very basic troupe that I’m sure some people are tired of lol but other than that, none!

word count: 3k

SPENCER

Being late to work is not something that I tend to enjoy. I hate it, in fact. I feel like I'm letting my team down if I'm ever late to round table meetings or if I miss a briefing. But these days, sleep is rare. And if I do sleep, it's not uncommon for me to sleep over the array of alarms I have.

Coffee is a must have for me at all points of the day. No sleep means exhaustion and exhaustion means my brain doesn't work as quickly as it could and that means we don't solve cases and not solving cases means more people die. I can't have more people die on my watch so I drink as much coffee as I can. But the coffee in the bullpen isn't always the best so if I ever have time, I stop at a cafe on my way to work. I take the extra five minutes to walk there before hopping on the metro.

I mumble off my coffee order to the tired looking barista and she scribbles down my name. I hand over a few stray bills to pay and get some change in return, tucking it in my pants pocket. I give a tight lipped smile to the barista before moving to a table in the corner of the cafe, pulling a book out of my messenger bag and starting to read, crossing one of my legs over the other. I don't look up while I wait for the barista to call out my name, not even when two people bump into each other in front of the door or a tourist asks someone else for directions. I just read my book and chew my lip, tapping my fingers against the hardcover.

"Spencer," I hear my name being called and finally allow myself attention to be lifted.

I stand quickly, tucking my book in my bag and closing the flap before heading back to the main counter. But the buckle of my bag gets caught on the button of my sleeve when I try to close my bag all the way. I pull at my sleeve, trying to get the buckle unlooped. But in this tussle with myself, I don't even realize that I'm still walking until I bump right into someone. I move my attention from my bag and catch the person's shoulders so I don't completely knock them over and make not only a fool of myself, but of them too. 

"Oh my gosh," I say immediately, my eyes widening, "I'm so sorry,"

"It's okay, it's okay," the girl laughs, her hands squeezing my arms as she regains her balance, “didn’t even fall. You caught me. I didn’t even break a sweat!”

My eyes finally find the girl's face and I'm rendered absolutely speechless. I somehow notice everything about her right away and I memorize her beauty. Her eyes are a bright, beautiful shade of ocean blue and her eyelashes cast shadows over her perfectly pink cheeks. Her hair is wavy and blonde with brown roots, but there's a yellow and blue patterned scarf tied around the front of her head like a folded bandana with pieces pulled out to frame her face. Her nose is small and I can only liken it to a button. Her lips are full and plump and a pretty light pink color and her Cupid's Bow is one that Cupid himself should be jealous of. Both of her ears are full of different types of piercings, and her nose even has a hoop in her right nostril.

She's wearing a light blue knit sweater tucked into a tight denim skirt, along with a pair of short black boots with small heels on them. Her nails are painted white and her fingers are full of rings, each of them different styles and various shades of silver with yellow gems. I notice a tattoo on one of her fingers but she moves and I can't make out what it is. I wonder if she has more tattoos. I find two straps around her shoulders and realize she's wearing a leather backpack, one probably very similar to my own bag. The last thing I notice is the old fashioned camera hanging around her neck, resting just above the waistband of her skirt.

I've seen my fair share of pretty girls. I've seen girls that I wouldn't mind getting to know better. I've met girls that have caught my attention. I've even been in what I believed to be love. But what is this? If I thought I'd seen a beautiful girl before, I clearly hadn't met this girl before. She looks like an angel sent directly from heaven. She looks like she was crafted by God himself and put on this earth to grace mankind with her beauty. Is it fair for one woman to be this beautiful? Is it even possible? I didn’t think that one woman could possess such beauty. 

What the hell is wrong with me? I can barely even breathe. I’m just staring at this gorgeous specimen, admiring her smile and trying to memorize the way her fingertips feel on my forearms. I quickly try to think of something to say, another apology for running into her, but I can barely even breathe when I stare at her, much less speak. 

"Spencer," the barista calls out my name again, setting my cup down on the counter before walking away. Saved by the barista. 

The girl smiles at me and her face lights up, only further illuminating her features. She's got two dimples on her cheeks, bringing out a childlike spirit in her that I pick up right away. "Um," she says with a laugh, "is that yours? You should probably grab it before someone else steals it,"

Okay, Spencer, breathe. You can do this. You’ve spoken to pretty girls before. Sure, it’s hard and it’s scary, but you can do it. Just say words. Preferably, coherent words. Preferably, maybe, a full sentence.

"Right," I finally force out, dropping my hands from her arms. I hadn't realized until now that I was still holding onto her and she was still holding onto me. I reach over and grab my steaming coffee, almost wincing at the heat under my fingertips.

The girl still hasn't moved when I turn back to her, but now she's fiddling with her camera. "Are you," I start to say before hesitating. Her head pops up and she smiles again, letting her camera fall against her stomach. I gulp, shuffling my feet against the floor as I attempt to speak a full sentence. "I didn't mean to bump into you like that,"

"Oh, it's totally fine," she waves her hand at me casually. "I wasn't paying attention either. No harm, no foul. Like I said, I didn’t even break a sweat,” The girl pushes her hair behind her ears and places her hands on her hips. With the confident way she speaks, I almost expect her to keep speaking, but she doesn’t. She just looks at me with the cutest smile, even baring her teeth, waiting for me to say something else. 

So I clutch my cup of coffee and swallow thickly. “I-" I hesitate yet again, but when the girl's eyes scream for me to continue, I do. "What's your name?"

She opens her mouth to speak but before she can, another cup of coffee is placed on the counter. "Amelia," the barista announces before walking away.

Amelia laughs, taking a step over to grab her cup, which I immediately notice is tea and not coffee. "Took the words right out of my mouth,"

"Amelia," I repeat as if testing the way the word rolls off my tongue. It tastes sweet. "You heard already, but, um, I'm Spencer,"

"It's nice to meet you," Amelia holds her hand to shake mine, and the panic starts to set in. For a moment, I debate on actually just shaking her hand so I don’t seem like a total freak to this girl that I seem to have a massive crush on. But the prospect of shaking a total strangers hand is repulsive and when I find myself looking at her hand for more than two seconds, I’m starting to count up the amount of germs that would be present there and I have to force myself not to make a face.

So of course, while my hands get clammy and my heart rate speeds up, I do what I do best. I spit out a fact that Amelia didn't ask for. "On average we carry 3,200 bacteria from 150 different species on our hands,"

Amelia's fingers curl into her palm and she retracts her hand, looking down at her palm and smiling just a tiny bit. "You know, I don't blame you for not wanting to shake hands. It is kinda gross anyway,"

"Sorry," I blurt out immediately, still shuffling on my feet. "That was rude of me,"

"It's not rude," Amelia counters, sipping her tea without so much as grimacing at the inevitable heat. "Are you in a rush?" I glance down at my watch and see that I still have ten minutes until I should be getting on the train. I relay this information to her and watch as she smiles again. "Would you like to sit with me then?"

"Oh," my eyes widen slightly and I squeeze my coffee cup so hard that I think I might poke holes in the sides, "y-yeah, sure,"

"Cool," she breathes out, waving me on and leading me to a booth on the other side of the cafe. I'm far too anxious with this situation and by Amelia's beauty and her comfortability around me to even think about relaxing, or drinking my coffee, or taking my bag off from around my shoulder. I definitely can’t remember any of Morgan’s advice on how to chat up girls or any of the conversation starters I’ve memorized for social situations like this. My mind is completely empty, just when I need it to be full and plentiful. How lovely.

Amelia sits across from me and grins, and every time she does, I swear my heart skips a beat and another butterfly breaks through its cocoon in my stomach. "So where are you off to this morning, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Work," I answer, and then realize that's an incredibly vague answer. Amelia raises her eyebrows as she lounges back against the booth, clearly waiting for me to elaborate. "Uh, I work for the FBI, actually. More specifically, the BAU- the Behavioral Analysis Unit,"

"You're a profiler!" Amelia perks up again, sitting up straighter with a huge grin on her face. "That's super cool! My dad is a police officer, sheriff actually, back home in Texas and I'm pretty sure he's worked with the BAU before and he says you guys are awesome. You catch serial killers, right?"

I'm almost stunned by her reaction. Most people don't believe behavioral profiling works, and most people resist the practice, especially local police. But her acceptance of it is incredibly refreshing, and it's welcomed. Honestly, any type of excitement from this Amelia girl is welcomed. It’s a beautiful sight. 

I can feel my cheeks turn bright red as I nod, still clutching my coffee cup. "Yeah, we do. And um, what about you?" I hate talking about myself so I change the subject. "Where are you off to?"

"I'm actually meeting a friend of mine to go shopping a few blocks over," Amelia gestures out the window. "But since we're talking about your job, I'll tell you about my way less cool job, which is an artist. I went to Carnegie Mellon and then moved here and I’ve been here ever since. My preference is canvas painting but I bring my camera around a lot, hence," she holds up the camera around her neck, "the camera now. I try to capture spontaneous moments for when I do exhibits and galleries and such,”

"I've always loved art. Never been talented at it, but I like it." I shrug nonchalantly and sip my coffee, trying to divert my eyeline down to the table, but when Amelia smiles at me, I can’t find it in me to break our eye contact.

Something about Amelia's smile brings me in. Every time she flashes her teeth, I feel myself sink further into my seat and I feel my head get fuzzier. I almost forget that I have to get to work in just a few minutes. But I don't want to go anymore. I want to stay here and keep talking to Amelia. I want her to keep going on and on about canvas paintings and her education at Carnegie Mellon, or even just tell me why she likes tea over coffee, if that’s even true. I don’t know anything about this girl but I want to.

"Nobody is technically good at art," Amelia responds. "Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses in the arts, everyone sees art differently, and that's okay. I'm sure you're not horrible, I'm sure you just haven't found your strength yet, Spencer," She enunciates my name with such beauty and grace that I almost ask her to say it again. I'd do anything to hear her say my name again.

"If-" I'm cut off when my phone rings in my pocket, so I lean over and fish it out. I read a text from Garcia that tells me we have a case, meaning we'll be briefing for a new case this morning. I sigh defeatedly, wishing I hadn't just gotten a text that usually piques my interest. Today, it makes my heart drop. 

"You have to get to work?" I look back up at work to see yet another smile on Amelia's perfect face. "Go ahead, it's okay," I’m so used to seeing disappointed faces when this text comes in, not a smiling face. It’s odd, somewhat confusing.

I grab my coffee cup and stand as Amelia does the same. She holds her cup to her chest, looking down at her feet. "Will," I chew on the inside of my cheek when she looks up at me, ocean eyes wide with anticipation as I struggle with my words for the umpteenth time, "can I see you again? We barely got to talk and you-"

"Yeah," Amelia nods before I can even finish my sentence. "Can I give you my number?"

I have to hold myself back from jumping up and down in excitement. "Y-Yeah, sure, of course," I pull my phone out yet again as she does the same. She tells me her phone number slowly so I can get it down, but of course, it sticks in my brain immediately.

"Just text me," Amelia murmurs, looking over my shoulder at my phone where my shaky thumbs press against the buttons on my phone to type out- hi, it's Spencer. She waits until her phone rings and then she smiles at me. "Great, I've got it. Now, um, go. Don't let me be the reason you're late in helping people. You don't have to text me if you don't want to," she pauses for a moment, and I wonder what she's waiting for. Is she waiting for me to confirm or deny that statement? Is she waiting for anything at all? Is it an open-ended statement? Where have all my profiling skills gone? Forget profiling- where is my common sense? "But if you do wanna text me," I'm thankful when she starts talking again, "don't until after you've solved your case. Don't worry about me until you've saved lives. But like I said, if you don't wanna text me, you don't have to,"

My phone buzzes again and I can only imagine it's someone from the team asking me where I am, hurrying me along so we can get started on our briefing. I ignore it for now. "Well," I have to clear my throat to be able to speak again. I give Amelia a bashful smile holding up my phone for her to see, "I'll text you when I'm back home,"

Amelia blushes, her bottom lip being pulled between her teeth. She breathes out a tiny laugh, nodding. "I look forward to it, Spencer,"

I take a step towards the door and feel my body grow cold at the distance starting to increase between us. "I'll talk to you soon, Amelia,"

And with that, before I have it in me to take one more look at the angel standing in the corner cafe, I hurry out the front door. There's a dumb smile on my face as I rush down the stairs to the train platform, struggling to swipe my card and respond to Penelope's text at the same time, all while running to catch the train at the platform. I'm somehow successful at all of this and only manage to breathe once I'm inside the stuffy car. Amelia's face is stuck inside my head and I can't get it out, and I'm positive that I never want to.

///

"Reid? Reid!" My head pops up as Morgan forcefully says my name, catching my attention and bringing me out of my daydream.

When I look up at him, he's already staring up at me with his eyebrows raised, clearly expecting an answer out of me about something. I have no idea what that something is, but he’s wanting an answer about it. I clear my throat, placing my cup of terrible police station coffee on the table and running a hand over my face. "Sorry," I apologize half heartedly, "I was thinking,"

Morgan sits across from me at the table and folds his hands. "Case related?" I glance up at him before deciding to completely ignore him, standing and walking up to the board, returning to examining the geographical profile. "Reid, come on, we've been on the case three days. You've been distracted ever since you walked in for the briefing. You can talk to me," I keep ignoring him. I stare at the map in front of me. "Is something going on? Is it your mom?"

"My mom is fine," I spin around and cross my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my heart starts to speed up when Amelia’s face resurfaces in my brain. “Can we just solve this case so we can go home?”

[dragonjadearts]

Ransom note for bthb? 👀

Ransom Note

Author’s Note: Holy cow this took longer than it should have because I kept putting it off. Anyways, here’s this. Also, this was going to be a lot longer, but I cut it off because it already took me so long and I have even more prompts to do so sorry if it ends weirdly, I’m terrible at ending things

Words: 2k

Characters: Last Dragonborn, Serana, Shadowmere, Llewellyn the Nightingale

Fandom: Elder Scrolls V (Skyrim)

Content/Trigger Warnings: Canon-Typical violence, kidnapping, kidnapping of children

Read it on A03!

Summary: After a long extended quest away from home, Teris is eager to get some much-needed rest at her manor in Falkreath, enjoying the forest and the company of her family. But what she finds when she returns home is anything but peaceful.

There was a warm wind off of Lake Illinalta, carrying with it the scent of salt and salmon. It was early in the spring morning and the sun cast long shadows on the cobblestone roads. Hoofbeats echoed in the morning light, as two riders strode by. They were silent, not out of discomfort but exhaustion. They had been traveling throughout the night and were eager to return home and rest.

Serana sighed, stretching her back. The old vampire had her hood drawn over her head and she squinted in the growing sunlight. Luckily she knew these roads well. She had walked them more times than she could count.

Teris looked out over the forest. She was happy to be back amongst the tall pine trees. Of all the properties she owned, this one reminded her most of home. There were no pine trees in Valenwood, but the scent of soil and cracking of branches was one she knew all to well. After her long journey in the North-western holds, she was happy to return to the forests.

Her mount, the red-eyed demon Shadowmere, snorted as he walked. He too was pleased to be back, happy to be amongst the trees he knew so well. The pond he had called his home for many years now was not far, and the Sanctuary — though now tainted with death and the scent of ash — was also close.

As the small group turned from the main road and made their way up across the unpaved paths, the manor began to slowly appear through the trees. The tall library tower was the first thing to notice. The second thing to notice was the lack of carriage out front. His absence was noted, but not concerning, he was likely escorting someone away or even on his way back by this point.

As Teris and her companion approached the entrance, her long elven ears twitched slightly, noting the lack of noise. It was deadly quiet, unusual for the house. A wave of unease washed over her. She called Shadowmere to a stop and gracefully leaped off his back. There was no sign of her children, who often played around the sides of the house. Her wife and housecarls were also nowhere to be seen and there was no sound of them nearby either.

Serana dismounted as well, just behind Teris. She seemed wary, and though tired, she readied herself. She too took note of the lack of life to the normally boisterous house. “I’ll check down by the lake,” she said, addressing her friend. Teris nodded absently, staring up at the house, a mix of emotions in her eyes. “They’re probably just enjoying the weather,” Serana said, in lackluster attempt at comfort. When that too failed to garner much of a response, she sighed to herself and began to make her way down the hill, to do as she had said.

Teris stood still for a moment longer, swaying on her feet, before she shook herself from her stupor and forced her feet to take steps towards the entrance. With bated breath, she put her hand on the wooden door. She exhaled and pushed it open slowly, not daring to look until it had fully opened to reveal her home.

As she opened her eyes, a wave of fury and fear washed over the Bosmer. She drew her weapon, the purple enchantment casting ominous shadows on the ruined furniture. Her weapon racks and trophies were scattered across the floor, the weapons themselves now gone. There were scratches on the walls and ash marks burned deep into the floorboards.

She stalked slowly through the entrance, pushing open the doors to the main hall without a noise. The state of that room was no better off than that of the entry hall. The long table in the center lay on its side, dishes broken and scattered on the ground. The fireplace at the end of the hall was unlit, and coals and ashes were swept to the side, staining the fine wood an ugly black and grey. On her left, one of the doors to the Greenhouse lay broken off its hinges at an odd angle, only propped up by the still closed door that accompanied it.

Teris slowly took another step forward, careful not to step on the particularly creaky floorboards. There wasn’t much light in here, only the purple glow of her sword, and the green light and shadows cast from the enchanter’s table upstairs. All the wall scones were unlit and dead.

She noticed, however, that the doors to the library were firmly shut, and if she concentrated and closed her eyes, her elven ears could pick up the faint sounds of shuffling from within. She ground her sharpened teeth together, sheathing her sword silently.

She quietly crept to the doors and scanned them for a moment. She turned to the side and with a quick jolt, rammed her shoulder into the doors. They didn’t budge but she was rewarded with the sound of a sharp intake of breath coming from within and the scraping of metal, presumably from whoever was inside picking up their weapon off the floorboards. She smiled a wolfish grin and took a few paces back. Readying herself, she rammed again into the doors. They shook and she could hear something heavy on the other side shift out of the way. Once more she threw herself at the doors, this time stopping just short as they crashed inwards.

To no surprise, not a moment later, a figure leaped out, crashing into her and wielding a sharp weapon. Teris dropped to the ground, throwing the attacker over her shoulder. She quickly withdrew the dagger from her boot and spun around on one heel to kick her attacker in the side. She lunged forward, slamming her knee into his chest and holding her knife to his throat. After a moment, she paused, recognizing the face staring back at her.

“Llewellyn?”

“Oh praise be! Lady Teris! You’ve finally come back!” The bard cried in breathless relief.

Teris stood up quickly, removing her knee from the bard’s chest and extending her left hand out to help him up, an offer he took gratefully.

“What happened here?” She asked.

“Bandits!” Llewellyn exclaimed. He reached up to clutch at his left arm which was soaked through with red. “Nasty pests, they ruined this entire home! I’m so sorry my lady, I tried to fight, I really did, but I’m no warrior!”

“It’s alright,” Teris soothed, a pang of sympathy echoing in her voice. “Calm down. Where is everyone? Are they alright?”

The bard sighed, shaking his head in shame. “No, I’m afraid not. Just over a week ago, Lady Aela had left for Whiterun. Her brothers in arms said they had some sort of quest for her. She took Gunjar with her and left Lydia and Rayya here to protect the home.

But they left just a few days ago to receive some supplies from Falkreath and didn’t return. Not a full day had passed when a group of bandits arrived. I swear on my honor I tried to defend the children, but there were many of them, and I’m a poor coward. They left with the two young ones.” Llewellyn ended his tale with a regretful tone.

Teris was shaking with rage. She ground her teeth together and clenched her hands into tight fists. Taking a deep breath, she let the air hiss out of her teeth, like a snake warning off a predator. “Did they leave a note?” She forced out, still shaking with rage.

Llewellyn shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot but nodded hesitantly. “Upstairs, I believe,” he said. “In the bedroom on-“

Teris didn’t let him finish. She spun around on her heel and marched up the stairs to the bedroom. The upstairs was in a marginally better state than downstairs, but only because the space there was more confined. In fact many pieces of furniture that weren’t laying on their side were laying on the first floor, having evidently been thrown off the staircase and down into the main hall. The bed of the master bedroom was messy, as if it had been hastily made up and the unmade again, and a lockbox full of keys lay open on its side, spilling said keys out onto the floor. A note lay on the end table, blood stained.

Teris snatched up the letter, pulling it open. She read quickly, every word only serving to anger her further. The letter read:

“To whom it may concern:

You certainly have a lovely home and such lovely children. I have never had children for myself, but these ones should do nicely. I think they’ll rather enjoy staying with me for a while longer. Of course if you don’t want that, I believe we can work out a deal.

I want 4000 septims for the safe return of your children. You have one week.

I eagerly await your coin at Arcwind Point.

Yours truly,

Rochelle the Red”

Teris tore the letter in half and threw it to the ground, letting out a scream of anger. Dragon tongue echoed in her throat, begging to be released. She shouted, pulling out her sword and swinging it down in a glowing purple attack that did nothing to help her release her fury. She screamed again, primal fury echoing in her voice and out across the mountains. In the far distance, deer lifted their heads and ran for hills. Birds let out one final cry and turned away. In Falkreath, citizens felt a shiver run down their back as something ancient and angry rippled through time and space. All the way to Whiterun, a wave of uneasy emotions swept over every hunter, sell-sword, and citizen.

Teris fell silent, panting and clutching her sword in her hands. Her ears twitched as the sound of familiar boots climbing the stairs reached her. Serana was silent, waiting for Teris to make the first move.

The Dragonborn growled. She straightened up, closing her eyes for a moment. As she sheathed her sword once more, she felt a wave of calm rush over her. She opened her eyes and turned to Serana. The ancient vampire met her gaze. She recognized the calm cold fury shining in her friend’s eyes. She nodded.

Teris took one last glance around the destroyed upstairs before her eyes settled on Serana again. “Llewellyn is injured,” she began. “Clean his wounds. Then take him to Falkreath and look for those damn housecarls. I’ll meet you in Whiterun once I get the girls.

Serana nodded. “I’ll send word to Aela once we reach Falkreath, let her know what’s going on.”

Teris bowed her head and the vampire stepped aside, letting her friend down the stairs. Llewellyn looked up as she came down, sitting on the turned over side of the table, still clutching his wounded arm. He look exceedingly nervous, even more so as Teris turned her gaze to him and he noted the rage and fury that was shining through it. She felt a twinge of regret and having scared the bard so much with her anger, but she had bigger things to deal with. She picked her way through the scattered home and shoved open the doors to stand, blinking in the sunlight.

The woods were silent now, as if holding their breath in fear and anticipation. The sounds of wildlife that had accompanied Teris on her journey to the house were now silent. Those that hadn’t fled her voice were deathly quiet, as if fearing to make a noise lest they be on the receiving end of her fury.

The only sign of life was Shadowmere, standing proudly where Teris had dismounted him. He locked eyes with her to the side and she swore that if horses could smile, he would be smirking. There was an understanding. She marched to his side and climbed aboard his saddle. There was no hesitation in either of their movements as the hunter spurred the enormous red-eyed demon into movement and they galloped down the hill and onto the main road. They had prey to catch.

[moonlightsolo]

bête noire

summary: Finally, you’ve retreated out of your hermit shell. Slowly, you start to get into a routine around the base again. Rey has been training you to defend yourself with your staff and hopefully how to use a lightsaber soon. It seems like her vision may be coming to life. Kylo Ren is being too distant which has gotten you worried. Hopefully you will be able to see him again. 

pairing: kylo ren x female reader

warnings: none

wc: 2.3k

note: sorry this chapter is short i wanted to get something out quick also ya’ll asked for more poe & reader fluff so you got it!

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“Agh!” You grunt out as you swing the staff at the training droid flying around your head. Your feet move swiftly as you dodge the stun bullets being shot at you.

Bruises litter your skin where you couldn’t dodge them, it stings but it fuels you to work harder.

You yelp when it hits you again, your face heats up from anger. Now you’re starting to get frustrated. You turn on your heels to face the droid floating above you, ready to shoot again. You focus in on the sphere-shaped robot. All you need to do is disable it somehow.

Your feet crush the leaves on the ground as you sprint into a jump, your feet hit the bark of a tree which propels you towards another one diagonal from it.

When your foot hits the other tree, you launch yourself in the air towards the droid. The Force gives you more power as you twirl your body in the air and strike down the droid with your staff.

You land on your feet, the pieces of it fall to the ground in front of you. The electricity buzzes from the broken pieces as it malfunctions and eventually shuts down.

You smile proudly, putting the staff on the ground so it’s parallel to your body. “Nice.” You breathe out heavily, your chest rises and falls quickly. You turn on your heel to make your way back towards the base, pushing the long strands of hair out of your face.

It has gotten too long now, all you can do is keep it in a braid that lays heavy on your back.

You meet Rey in the opening of the trees, you both call it your hideaway. She’s floating and there are rocks around her in the air. When she hears your footsteps, her eyes open and she gently floats down to the grass. “How was it today? Better?” She turns towards you with a smile.

“Much better. I actually got it today.” You walk towards her to get closer instead of being across the field.

This is your third time in the past week you have trained. Rey has guided you to get more comfortable using the Force during her lessons too.

Kylo still hasn’t reached out to you. Sometimes, you catch yourself thinking about him and how he is doing. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you hope that he knows that he’s in your thoughts.

Rey knows you think about him a lot, she never says anything about it though. She tries to get your mind off of him when she notices your thoughts wander elsewhere.

“I think it’s time.” You say to Rey, she seems confused by your words.

“Ya know, to cut my hair.” You laugh, pulling the long braid over your shoulder so it‘s in the front.

”Finally!” She dramatically groans in relief, “Let’s go.” She grabs your hand and starts to pull you towards the base. Once your hands get too sweaty, she lets go and jogs with you into the cave.

Leia is sitting down as she writes something down on a piece of paper, “Leia! It’s time to cut her hair.” Rey smiles wide.

Some officials that are standing around stop what they’re doing to glance at the three of you. “Right now?” Leia sighs as she rubs her temple.

“What’s going on?” Rey asks, her face is full of concern as she walks up to her.

“There’s something bothering me. I don’t know what it is, but it’s sitting in the back of my brain.” She shakes her head and takes a deep breath to clear her thoughts. You and Rey glance at each other nervously, “Grab me the scissors. Let’s do it now.”

Leia directs you to sit in her chair once she gets up and stands behind you. Rey grabs the scissors for her as she unravels your hair from the braid. She hands you the hairband and brushes her fingers through your thick locks.

She begins trimming your hair slowly, it floats to the ground around you and tickles your nose. By the time she finishes, your hair shrunk to just below your shoulders in a long bob. It’s long enough to still pull up and style but short enough to be manageable.

“Feel it. See if you like it.” She touches your hair to make sure it’s even.

Your hands run through the soft hair, your head feels so much lighter and you expect to feel more. You almost gasp when your hands fall out at the ends, “It’s so light and soft. I love it. Thank you.” You stand up to give Leia a hug.

A little cleaning droid starts to clean up the hair on the ground, it beeps as it does so. Rey is still standing there, a smile on her face. “It’s very beautiful. I can’t wait to style your hair like mine.” She jokingly says but you wouldn’t mind if she actually did it.

After a few minutes of talking with Leia and Rey, you start to walk out of the command center by yourself. Poe is standing just outside talking to someone. You take him in slowly, your eyes rake over his body sneakily.

He’s wearing a cream button-up shirt that’s almost unbuttoned too low in the front, tight khaki utility pants, a leather blaster belt holster around his waist and his boots.

Just as you go to look away, he catches your eyes with his own. He takes in your new look, you blush when he smiles wide and winks at you. He quietly mouths, “wait for me.” Then he continues the conversation with the person in front of him.

You lean against the cool limestone of the cave, the artificial lighting casts over your face. You pick at your nails as you wait for him to finish up, you don’t even realize that he’s in front of you. “I like your hair. A lot. It fits you better.” His hands come up to run his fingers through it and he tucks it behind your ear.

The slight brush of his fingernails on your scalp makes you shiver. “You sure it’s not too short?” You bite your lip out of nervousness. “Yes, I’m sure. You’d look gorgeous even if you had no hair.” He laughs and slyly slides his hand on your waist to pull you closer.

You laugh gently and shake your head as you look down. “What?” He asks with a small confused chuckle. You lean forward to put your forehead against his chest, his arms instantly wrap around your frame.

“Nothin’, you’re just very charming.” You admit with another nervous giggle. He laughs along with you, “Why thank you.” He hums happily.

Rey walks up to you two, interrupting the little moment you guys are having. “Excuse me, lovebirds. Leia needs Poe, there’s something important she needs to talk to you about.” She clears her throat.

He sighs as he slowly pulls away, he doesn’t want to leave you. “I’ll see you later?” He asks, “Of course.” You nod, then he winks again and walks away.

Rey’s face looks like she’s seen a ghost, “Is it about what she said earlier to us? Like what she’s been feeling? Did she say something to you?” You ramble on.

“Yeah she did, but it’s nothing. Let’s go.” She puts a smile on her face, but you can tell she’s thinking about it very intently.

You’re wondering if it has to do with Kylo, that’s why she won’t tell you. Maybe something happened to him. You gulp as you start walking with her, she knows you’re nervous now too.

After about two more hours of training, she dismisses herself and you end up leaving too since it’s getting dark. You walk into your room, seeing your babies being fed by the droid. “Thank you. I got them now.” You smile as your hand replaces hers on the bottles. The droid leaves the room, probably to go help out around the base.

Once they finish, you burp them individually and snuggle them. You have them both in your arms when someone knocks on the door, “Come in!” You yell softly so you didn’t scare the twins.

The door slowly opens to reveal Poe, he slips inside and sits on the bed next to you. He looks quite serious, it’s scaring you slightly. “Rey was telling me how you were asking her questions about what was going on. She didn’t tell you, did she?” He asks, your eyes go wide.

Your heartbeat starts to pick up the pace, “No. She didn’t. What’s wrong?” The babies pick up on your nervous energy and start to fuss. You shush them gently as he goes on, “Leia felt another dark entity in the Force. She doesn’t know who yet but Kylo Ren may have another leader again.”

You let a heavy breath out, nothing happened to him. “Oh okay.” You take a deep breath again, closing your eyes as you drop your head to calm yourself.

“You’re aren’t worried about that?” He almost laughs.

You pick your head up to look at him, “Of course I am. I thought something worse was happening.” You mumble as you stand up to put the sleeping babies in their bassinets.

“What could be worse than another enemy?” He almost groans in response.

You give each baby a small peck on their forehead, you turn the main light off and flick on the small one next to your cot since it’s much dimmer.

“What are we going to do now?” You ask, “We’re gonna be more cautious if we leave the base and add more cloaking devices to the trees so they can’t detect us here.” He sighs and leans against the wall behind the bed.

“That sounds like a good plan.” You lean back next to him against the cool metal wall. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face and down your body then back up quickly.

You don’t know what your relationship with him is anymore. Is it friends? Are you more than friends? You don’t want to be more than friends right now but sometimes he can be so addictive... Especially with the smooth sun-kissed skin  and dark curly hair of his...

Stop. Don’t think about him like that.

You turn your head to make eye contact with him, “I know you’re thinking what I’m thinking.” Poe sighs with a crooked almost disappointed smile as he sits up “Poe wait-.”He cuts off your sentence. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” He stands up to leave. He looks back at you and smiles before he slips out quietly.

You blink as your eyebrows furrow, you’re so confused right now. What the hell just happened?

You shake your head and stand up to get into your pajamas so you can get under the covers to sleep. The men in your life need to think about what they truly want.

Just like every other night, something in the back of your head won’t let you sleep. You toss and turn, fluff your pillow and blankets many times. You’re so exhausted. Your body aches and your brain is thumping from lack of sleep.

A blanket washed over your ears, they started to ring for a moment before quieting down. Your eyes shoot open as you look around the darkroom, the only light source is coming from a very dim light on the floor.

You see his dark silhouette in front of the door. You take notice to his obscenely long legs and how his wavy hair can be seen as well. Last time you spoke to him you remember saying that you didn’t trust him and he was quite hurt by your words. 

“Are we growing apart?” His voice is stern but still soft. You frown at his words, “No, I hope not.” You sit up in your cot to get a better look at him.

“I had a vision. We fought. I’m not sure what we were fighting over, but you had your own saber. I didn’t want to fight you but I had no choice. You were powerful. Almost as powerful as me. I...I defeated you... I never want to see that again. I need to make sure my vision doesn’t come true.” He rambles on, his voice is shaky. He’s obviously upset by what he saw.

“Kylo. I promise you, I will never try to go against you. Nothing is going to happen like that...” You feel sorrow for him, your bottom lip pouts out a little bit.

“I want to see you.” He blurts out, his facial expression is cast over by the shadow. “I want to meet our children. I understand you don’t trust me, it makes no sense. I would never hurt you.” His voice raises slightly from frustration.

“I trust you with us. Not the Resistance. I know we are your enemy but I won’t let you find them again. We’re happy here. They’ve made a home.” You breathe out and sigh. “We? So you’re with the Resistance now officially?” He scoffs.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not on anybody’s side at the moment.” You grumble and pinch the bridge of your nose between two of your fingers out of frustration.

“Let me visit you. I won’t let alert anybody about your whereabouts. If you trust me enough, you know I would never put you or the children in harm's way. Please.” He’s almost begging you, he seems so desperate.

Your brain works as you think about how this could possibly work out. You could hike far away from camp and he could meet you somewhere in the jungle.

“Think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He mumbles then disappears before your eyes.

Your eyes roll back as you plop back onto your pillows to try and sleep again. This could possibly work. You do miss him so much. You need to feel him in your arms again.

This needs to be your secret, your own little secret.

-

tags: @officiallpeterparker @funnysadshit @ymariejp @attorneyl @fangirl570 @trinityrud20 @kylos-sassy-cousin @delicatelyherdreams @fizzywoohoo @savvy7392 @angelias134 @that-girl-named-alex @cas-backwards-tie @glimmering-darling-dolly @glitterypinkkitty @blxkstar @his-snow-white-queen @elsasshole @smiithys @nanocoool @deathbyarabbit @alex-skr @theholycakehole  @averillian  @crazynocturnalkiki @arcanebabe @tinydancer40 @superduckypower  @thomasscresswell @butterfly-writes @thatintrovertedbisexual @fangirlanotherjust @somekindofroger  @nicci442 @little-girl-who-dream-too-much @wildest-dream- @silverlambcaptain @cliffordmess @xkylorxn @lowkeyofsassguard @nickangel13 @carol-twinklefists-danvers @oopsiedoopsie23 @fandomshit6000 @baba-eina @cosmichellfire @ravngers

[wylanvnneck]

Age Rating: T for Troglodyte

Summary:  Hunger Games modern day AU, Peeta is a policeman and Katniss just broke the law. Kinda. Whoops. 'Tis a oneshot. 

(Also, mentions of nudity in relation to streaking, so if you’re not comfortable with that kinda stuff this isn’t the fic for you.)

On AO3 | Can you spot all the references?

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

It was all Johanna’s fault. Against Johanna Mason and alcohol, I never stood a chance.

‘District 12’ was a pretty popular nightclub, famous for its signature drink ‘The Nightlock’, so that’s where Johanna, Madge and I had decided to take Annie for her Bachelorette party, she’d just wanted a small get together with ‘The Girls’ so there we were.

The night began when we all met up at Annie’s apartment to get ready together and ‘pre-drink’, ‘cus there was no way in hell we could afford to buy that many drinks at such a fancy place. We dress up, do each other’s makeup, paint our nails, exchange gossip, tease Annie about her upcoming marriage and take lots and lots of shots in between.

By the time we head out to walk the few blocks to the nearby club we’re decked in the sexiest clothes we own, which for me equates to a little black dress with a lacy feather design on the back that Jo’d forced me to buy on a rare trip to H&M, which apparently made my bod look fab, her words not mine. Madge has gone crazy with the makeup on my face, with black wing tip eyeshadow to match the dress.

She herself is looking elegant as usual in her midnight blue catsuit and heels, while Jo is in a dangerous looking pair of black fishnet tights and a leather top that threatened to slip off and reveal its secrets at any minute. Annie is in her skirt and top, rocking a shiny pair of silver stilettos which for me would have spelt out ‘death trap’, but she pulls it off.

The club is loud and noisy, strobe lights switching colours every few moments, dizzying my senses. While I’m still recovering Jo’s grabbed us all by the hands and dragged us to the bar, even though we’re all pretty tipsy already. Looks like I’m getting smashed tonight, but hey, what better occasion to get drunk at than your best friend’s bachelorette party?

We order our drinks from the hot brown eyed bartender, who’s smoothly mixing beverages and flirting with us as he prepares our drinks, cocktails for Madge and Annie, a Nightlock for me and a Jack and Coke for Johanna.

Annie is blushing and I’m surprised that Annie even recognizes flirting at this point, she and her groom-to-be Finnick having been attached at the hip since freshman year in high school.

Madge is more receptive but we all know that she’s irrevocably devoted to my childhood best friend Gale and that she’d never go further than casual flirting. Johanna of course has no such qualms as she shamelessly responds, with me as an unwilling witness as she chats the guy up and I impatiently wait for my Nightlock.

It’s worth the wait though, the dusky blue liquid is enticing, drawing you in like a sweet poison. This was definitely worth the long queue at the entrance and the rather steep pricing.

Now that I’ve sufficiently imbibed in enough alcohol I’m feeling brave enough to hit the dance floor with my friends and Madge, Annie and I leave Johanna to her conquest and find our way to the middle of the room where the space is packed with sweaty, writhing bodies.

I’m not much of a dancer, but the Nightlock seems to have taken effect and I’m filled with a delightful buzzing sensation so I just give myself up to the music, following along to the seductive rhythm.

My surroundings blur, as people dance around us, couples play tonsil hockey, my friends and I do the macarena and bump hips and I barely notice when Jo returns after having secured brown eyes’ phone number and carrying a fresh supply of drinks.

I’m feeling adrenalized and the buzzing sensation increases with this next round and we’re laughing and panting and the music drowns out everything and the lights are shining and it’s the most exhilarated I’ve felt in a while, considering how run down I am each day after my college classes and part time job at the clinic.

For tonight, I’m just Katniss Everdeen, a free unrestrained rebel.

Hours pass and it’s 2.00 am and we’re staggering out the door, blurry-eyed and red faced. The deserted sidewalk is so pretty and black. The trees are so brilliantly green. Trees. Lights. Life.

I’m definitely hammered.

The rest of the girls don’t seem too sober either, but I’m the biggest lightweight out of all of us so it’s no surprise that I’m so far gone.

We’re giggling and talking and I hear Annie start up a game of Truth or Dare. It’s a teenager’s game but who cares and besides, it’s her night.

Madge starts us off. “Alright Bridesy, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Ok, what’s your least favorite thing about Finnick?”

She contemplates this for a while before replying, “I suppose he can be a little too proud of his looks,” she blushes.

The rest of us let out a collective snort. It’s certainly true that Finnick could be more than a little vain, but it was also true that being around Annie made him less so. Besides, when he wasn’t busy preening his blond hair in front of a mirror he was a pretty intelligent and loyal friend.

“I’ll say,” Jo smirks. “Now, ask me one, a Dare.”

Annie dares her to give a 3 minute lecture on safe sex, which ends up with us guffawing as Jo proceeds to explain the science of birth control pills and the mechanics of a condom in a posh British voice that sounds vaguely Australian.

When she’s done and we’ve finally recovered our breath she turns to me, “Alright brainless, Truth or Dare?”

Her black eyes are challenging me, and the alcohol makes me stupid.  

“Dare.”

It’s a testament to how drunk I am that I don’t immediately panic at the devilish gleam in her eyes. We’ve made it about 2 blocks from the club and we’ve still got a few more to go to get back to Annie’s apartment where we’re all spending the night. The streets are mostly deserted but the occasional car cruises along.

“Alright Kitkat, here’s what you gotta do. I dare you to streak around this block.”

At first, my alcohol hazed brain doesn’t comprehend what she’s saying. And then it hits me. Annie and Madge are doubled over with laughter and cheering, the traitors.

My cheeks are red, “You want me to...to strip and run around this entire block?” I ask, just to make sure.

“Yup,” the she-devil responds. “Come on, Everdeen, live a little.”

Easy for her to say, she’d done this millions of times, the worst that had happened was that she’d gotten off with just a warning from a mall security officer that she’d managed to charm. I, on the other hand, have always been extremely private about my body, not that I thought there was anything wrong with it but I preferred not to flaunt it. The dress I was wearing tonight is the most daring clothing I own.

However, tonight, I’m feeling daring. Or stupid. Probably very stupid. But it’s 2.15 in the morning, the streets are practically deserted, no pedestrians are around to see me other than my friends. And after all tonight I had been letting go, throwing off my constraints. Besides, when I’m 80 these’ll be the stories I tell my grandkids, right?

Well if I’m drunk enough to think about being 80 and having grandkids, plural, I’m drunk enough to run around a block naked.

So I do it. I take a quick glance at our surroundings to make sure no one’s around before I reach down and peel off my dress, while my treacherous friends let out ridiculous wolf whistles. I hand the black garment to Madge along with my black boots. The chilly night air hits my body and goosebumps erupt on my skin, pale in the dimly lit street lights as I cover my chest with my arms. I feel the blood rushing to my face.

“Well?” Jo raises an eyebrow at me, as if to say go on then, do it .

I take a deep breath and break off into a run. I feel as swift as lightning. I’m unstoppable. I’m running around the streets of the city in my lacy underwear and no bra as my dress was backless. I’m practically as naked as the day I was born as I race along the sidewalk and I’m burning up and I feel like a girl on fire.

I quickly circle the short distance and I’m just about to make it back to where my friends are standing, howling with amusement at the sight of me. The end is in sight.

And that’s when I hear it. The sound of a car approaching. Oh hell.

The situation gets ten times worse when I catch sight of the vehicle that’s just turned into the street. It’s a police patrol car.

Oh, the universe was a cruel, cruel place.

                                                    * * *

There’s no place to run and no place to hide in the open street. There’s no escape for me, the lone policeman behind the wheel knows it and I know it. So, heart pounding and with a sinking feeling in my chest I simply walk the rest of the way to my now silent group of friends and stretch my hand out for my dress while he stops the car by the pavement and steps out of it to approach me.

I manage to slip on my dress before resignedly turning around to face him, and when I do I’m struck speechless. In front of me is the most handsome policeman I’ve ever seen. Scratch that, one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.  

Ordinarily I’d be disgusted at myself for internally drooling so much over a cute guy, but this isn’t ordinary Katniss. So I stare to my heart’s content. His eyes are the first thing I notice, a stark blue, standing out in the dark early morning light. His ashy blonde hair falls in waves over his forehead, and his skin is pale. He also looks pretty muscular, no doubt as a result of regular training. Shoot me now.

I’m so absorbed in staring at him that I almost don’t notice what he’s saying, “Excuse me ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in for being drunk and disorderly.” He sounds almost apologetic, despite his formal tone and his cheeks are tinged slightly red but that’s probably nothing compared to the embarrassed blush on my face.

“Don’t worry Katniss, I’ll call Gale, he’ll know what to do,” I hear Madge squeak from the side while Officer Blue Eyes attaches a pair of cuffs on me.

I turn my head and give her a quick nod before I’m gently ushered into the backseat of the patrol car. The drive is silent and I’m almost completely sober now. No more liquid courage for me, and I’m left feeling disoriented and anxious, starting to panic a little as I resolutely look outside the window as we drive to the station, unseeing of my surroundings.

“So, wild night, huh?” His voice is a slightly husky one. I could listen to it all day. And night. All day and night. Maybe I’m still a little intoxicated.

I let out a dry laugh that sounds rather high pitched, “You could say that.”

“I remember what that was like, you know, back when I wasn’t a cop yet. Highschool seems like a million years ago” He has an easy smile on his face that I can see from the rearview mirror.

“Doesn’t it. Although, I’ve never really been a huge party person. Tonight was an exception.” I wish I could cover my face with my cuffed hands.

I see him look at me through the mirror, blue eyes filled with sympathy. “Whoops, looks like it just wasn’t your night then.”

We’ve pulled up to the Police Station and he’s reversing the car into a parking spot around the back. “I guess not,’ I agree with a wry half-smile on my face.

I’m escorted into the building and it’s practically deserted, the sound of the ceiling fans working filling up the silence as two officers sit hunched around a desk examining a computer screen while sipping on what looks to be mugs of coffee.

Caffeine. I’m jealous.

Officer Blue Eyes exchanges a quick word with one of them and she simply waves back with her hand. He takes me to the back of the room through a short passage that leads to a holding cell, a small square room with barred walls through which I can peek at the corridor that leads to the main office we just walked through. There's a small bench attached to the wall, with a rolled up mat and a pillow on it where he indicates for me to sit. My hands are released from the cuffs and I rub at my wrists.

We haven’t spoken since we got out of the car, but now he says, “Alright then...ma’am, I’m gonna need to ask you some questions.”

“Hit me with it.” I slump against the wall. Might as well get comfy, this was gonna be a long night.

“Ok, well first off what’s your name?”

“Katniss Everdeen.”

“Age?”

“22”

“Are you in college?”

“Yep. But I don’t live within campus grounds.” I give him my address as well.

“Any part time jobs?”

“I’m a part time assistant at Paw Prints Veterinary Clinic.”

‘’Ok great, thank you,” he’s been writing my replies down on a plain spiral notepad. “Give me a minute, I’ll be right back.”

He turns and walks away and as he does a question pops, unbidden, out of my mouth, “Wait. What’s your name?” I’d been trying to read his name tag since we reached the cell but I couldn’t seem to make it out.

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark.” His smile is breathtaking.

I scrunch my eyes closed and let out a soft groan the moment he’s out of sight. Stupid, stupid Katniss. Why didn’t I just say no to that idiotic dare? Why did I drink so much? Why were cops allowed to be hot?

What was wrong with me?

My eyes are still closed and I’m leaning against the cell wall, contemplating my life decisions that had brought me to this moment, when I hear footsteps approaching.

Peeta was back and he was carrying what looked to be a steaming paper cup and a brown paper bag.

“Here, this should help with a hangover,” he hands me the cup through the bars. It’s steaming hot coffee and the aroma reminds me of Heaven.

I’m ravenous and thirsty and I gulp the brown liquid down, relishing the invigorating feeling despite the fact that I’ve almost certainly burnt my tongue.

When I look up again he’s leaning against the bars, watching me with those intense baby blue eyes. I would feel abashed by how impatiently I drank my coffee but I seemed to have reached my quota of embarrassment for the day. Probably even my quota for the year, forget a day.

“So Katniss, what’s gonna happen now is that you’ll be held here overnight until you’re sober and discharged tomorrow morning, most probably you’ll just be given an official warning as this looks to be your first offense.” His tone is calming and helps to slow my racing heartbeat. He’s still clutching that brown paper bag in his hand.

I nod slowly in response. That wasn’t too bad. I could live with just a few more hours in this claustrophobic space.

He hands me the bag. “Here, in case you’re hungry.”

I look at the bag and there seems to be something soft and circular inside. I think of that old cop cliché and I’m almost certain it’s a doughnut. Instead, it’s a soft looking bun and as I’m opening up the bag further the smell of...cheese? Reaches my nose. My stomach gives a low rumble. I really hope it wasn’t audible.

“It’s a uh...a cheese bun. I make them myself,” his voice sounds a little shy and my heart gives a lurch. Who was this man and why had I been deemed worthy of meeting him? Granted, not in the most ideal circumstances, but still.

“You bake?” The question comes out sounding almost accusatory. “I mean, you- you have the time to bake, you know, being a policeman?” and do it really well, judging from the scents wafting my way.

“My dad actually owns a bakery so he lets me come in after hours and do some baking. It’s surprisingly therapeutic after a hard day at work,” his lips quirk upwards on the left side.

“Wow. That’s...wow. The best that I can cook is a pretty mean mac and cheese,” I confess.

He lets out a soft laugh, “Well, that’s a very useful dish. You can go ahead and eat you know, don’t mind me.”

So I do. It’s delicious. The first bite melts me. It’s soft and salty and creamy and absolutely delectable. I involuntarily let out a long, low moan.

He’s looking at me with that quirked mouth and it almost looks like he’s smirking.  “That good, huh?”

“Mhngmm” I garble out. I sound like a chipmunk with food in its mouth but I couldn’t care less.

I force myself to pace my eating this time and manage to intelligibly speak. “So you’re a policeman and a full time baker. Any other super powers?”

“Ah, no. I’m afraid not. Being a policeman doesn’t offer much downtime. I love it though, it’s a pretty fulfilling job.”

But perhaps enough downtime for a girlfriend? I’m tempted to ask, which is ridiculous. It’s none of my business if he's dating anyone. I’m just the drunken girl he’s arrested and taken pity on, enough pity to keep me company for the moment and even share the best baked treat I’ve had in my life with me.

But who cared what motivated him as long as he was here, right? So we talk and we talk and we talk, exchanging questions then jokes then stories. I tell him about my college classes and Environmental Science course and my part time job at the vet.

I tell him about the little girl with plaited blond hair who’d recently brought in an ill-tempered stray cat named Buttercup who for some reason had instantly hated me and proceeded to scratch me a grand total of 18 times.

He laughs and tells me about his little brother Rye and his first time making bread on his own, which ended up in a charred block of dough. He tells me about a recent case of his where this woman named Effie had sent threatening letters to the wrong lady, a distinguished corporate lawyer, rather than the Starbucks cashier that was actually her husband’s mistress and the hilarity that ensued after she found out.

The conversation is so easy and I’m enamoured by this man and the last thought to enter my head before he eventually gets called away and has to leave and I finally succumb to my alcohol induced mini-coma is of a pair of striking blue eyes.

                                                           * * *

A few hours later I wake up to the sunlight streaming through the bars of my cell. I’m groggy and my mouth is dry. My hair feels matted with sweat and the dark strands are probably still forming the remnants of a long gone fancy braid. My lacy black dress is wrinkled beyond saving.

“Morning!” Says a male voice that is entirely too chipper.

I blink a few times before I can finally focus on Peeta who’s standing in the now open doorway of my cell.

“Morning…” I reply, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“So, you’re in luck Miss Everdeen, someone’s already come to take you home.”

“Katniss. You can call me Katniss.” I pause. “Wait, someone’s here for me? Must be Gale.”

“That’s the one...a Gale Hawthorne?”

“Oh thank god he’s here. I did not relish having to stay here any longer than I needed to.”

Peeta’s face looks more guarded than it had last night. Or rather, earlier this morning.

‘Yes, well, he’s here, so we can process you out.”

“Great.”

I’m taken to a desk at the front of the office where a middle-aged officer with lengthy dirty blonde hair sits behind the counter, looking bored with the world. He eyes me uninterestedly and as Peeta and I get closer I see that his name tag reads ‘Officer Abernathy’.

Officer Abernathy sluggishly carries out all the formalities and issues me an official warning. There's nothing for me to collect as the only thing I had with me when I was arrested were my clothes. It’d be a long time before I decided to take those off anywhere that wasn’t in the privacy of my apartment.

Peeta accompanies me to the entrance, he is strangely silent but he looks like he is thinking a million thoughts.

I can spot Gale’s Volvo in the parking lot from here, and I can see him walking up to the station entrance to come and get me.

“So, that’s your boyfriend I’m assuming?” Peeta finally speaks as we stand in the doorway waiting for him.

The idea shocks me, although it makes sense that he’d come to that conclusion. Madge used to think that Gale and I were an item too, but he’s always been more like my protective older brother rather than a lover.

“What? Gale? Ew no, that’d be like incest, it’d be almost illegal.”

He raises a lone eyebrow at me, smiling.

Right. I hadn’t exactly shown the greatest sense of distinguishment between what was legal and what was not. I blush in his presence yet again.

Gale comes up to us and his brown eyes are twinkling. “Well, Catnip, I gotta say, when Madge called and said one of you had gotten arrested I thought for sure it’d be Johanna. Guess I was wrong.”

I narrow my eyes at him, “Yes, well, Johanna’s got a worse punishment than getting arrested coming her way when I get my hands on her." I remember the officer standing next to me. “In the most innocent way of course.”

The quirked lip is back. I swear, for me, it was a weapon more lethal than the gun he carries in his holster. I blame that thought on the headache that I am currently dealing with.

‘Right..so uh, I guess this is it.” There’s a sinking feeling in my gut. I would probably never see Peeta Mellark ever again. Unless I decided to get arrested in this area again and hope to spend an hour or two in his company. The idea had merit. But no, I was already on my first official warning and I probably shouldn’t push the legal system.

I stick out my hand to him. He takes it and shakes it gently, his eyes seem to see inside me as they meet mine.

Almost reluctantly I turn away and start following Gale to his car.

“Hey, Katniss.” That husky voice suddenly calls out from behind me. “I’ll be picking you up at 8.00 tomorrow, just so you know. It’s a date."

I whirl around. He’s grinning and he’s got an annoyingly attractive cocky look on his face.

“Oh really? And how would you know where to pick me up from?”

He brings out his spiral bound notepad from his uniform pocket. “In here, remember?”

I flush yet again and this time I know that it’s definitely not the last time I’d be doing it in front of him. Oh no. If I had my way, this sweet, funny, intelligent and handsome officer and baker would be seeing that blush on my face for years to come.

“On one condition. There have to be cheese buns.”

“You got it,” he salutes me, beaming.

I’m walking on sunshine as I quicken my stride to catch up with Gale who’s already started up the car and as I do I hear a voice that sounds suspiciously like Officer Abernathy’s yelling from the station, “Good on you, sonny boy, you don’t see a girl like that everyday.”

                                                       * * *

A couple years later and I’m in a lacy dress once more, white this time, with the added accessory of a bouquet of Primroses. Next to me stands the man who arrested me all those years ago and won me over with a combination of his personality and his insanely good cheese buns. I like to tell him that it’s the buns that were really the deciding factor for me, but we both know that’s a lie.

He leans down and presses his lips to my ear as the photographer stops to reposition his camera.

“You know Katniss, you should have just walked up that aisle in your underwear, it’s my favourite look of yours.”

I glare at him. At least, I try to, but it’s hard with those blue eyes looking back at me.

“Keep up the jokes, mister, and you might not see that look again for a while,” I threaten him.

The smug look on his face is immediately wiped off.

                                                          * * *

I’m not yet 80, just a couple more years to go, but as I look at that familiar pair of periwinkle eyes gazing back at me with love in them, I feel like a young woman again. I turn back to the tiny toddlers playing on the ground in front of me.

Someday I’ll tell them, I’ll tell them the story of how their grandparents met. I’d tell them how Peeta likes to say that the only moral of the story is that you shouldn’t break the law, but I’d say that it was really that you probably shouldn’t play such a high stakes game of Truth or Dare, or simply ‘don’t accept stupid dares.’

And yet, when I look at where it got me, I suppose I should also say that there are certainly much worse games to play.

[jeonsduck]

Wonderland Part 3

Sorry this part to so long to write. Hope y'all enjoy! 

Hongjoong elects to leave you to cool your heels in the brig for three days. It's not as awful as it could be. There's a window (with bars over it), and Yunho stops by periodically to bring you food and water and the others tend to pop in to talk in between their chores. You sleep a lot, realizing you missed a lot of sleep during your day and a half in the Illusion's custody. So sleeping is what you're doing when Hongjoong finally comes to release you, banging on the cell bars to wake you up. "Rise and shine, little one. You've fulfilled your sentence." He says, unlocking the cell and entering it. He crouches down next to where you're sitting on the floor and grabs you by the chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Listen up and listen good. Thanks to your little jail break attempt, we've been forced to seek refuge at Utopia." He explained. Your eyes widened and your body went stiff. Utopia was a floating space station that had been mutinied by pirates years ago. Now it served as the only safe port for pirates in the quadrant. It was a lawless and violent place, but it was safe from the eyes of the empire and mariners. "I need you to understand, that back on Lemba, you were lucky I was able to get to you in time. That may not be the case here. I need your word that you won't run off again." Hongjoong whispers, tightening his grip on your chin. You glared at him for a minute, defiant and unwilling to simply concede  but Hongjoong was right. Utopia was dangerous and you would need his protection in order to leave the port alive. "Fine. You have my word, I won't try to escape again." You muttered reluctantly. Hongjoong continued to hold your chin up, searching your eyes for signs of resistance. Eventually he sighed and let you go. "Let's get upstairs. Wooyoung was complaining that he missed you." Hongjoong muttered, standing and exiting your cell quickly. Your pick yourself up off of the floor and follow him. The deck shutters are open and the sunlight blinds you for a moment. You whine, bringing up a hand to shield your sensitive eyes from the bright light. "Come on, you need a new outfit." Yeosang says, tugging you by your hand to another part of the ship. Wooyoung follows after you whistling some song you don't recognize. They lead to you what's essentially a giant closet with tons of clothes sprawled all over the place. "Am I getting a new wardrobe?" You ask with a chuckle. Yoesang disappears into the clothes to find something for you to wear while Wooyoung reclines on a pile of coats. "Of course. You can't walk around Utopia like that. You'll stick out like a sore thumb. You need to blend in." Wooyoung explains, sorting through a box of jewelry he picked up from the floor. "Are your ears pierced? Earrings would look nice on you." He muses holding up a huge gold piece. "No... uhm what do you mean blend in." You asked rubbing your ear lobe, worried. "You look like a civilian! You need to look like a pirate, like a member of the Illusion." He elaborated. He looked up from where he was admiring the earring. "Do you want your ears pierced? Yunho is really good at it." He offered and you shook your head quickly. You were saved from the offer of more piercings by Yeosang returning with a set of clothes in his arms. "Here try these on, I'll see if I can find you some boots." You started to strip your shirt off but suddenly remember Wooyoung is still in the room. "Uhhh, would you mind?" "Nope, go right ahead." You rolled your eyes at his response and lobbed a shoe you found nearby at his head. "Fine, fine, I'll give you some privacy." He said with a chuckle and disappeared into the clothes as well. You got changed quickly, in case Wooyoung decided to come back and have a peak. Yeosang had picked out a simple outfit, a loose white shirt and brown pants that were just the right size for you to squeeze into. There was also a belt with an obscenely large buckle that you tucked the front half of the shirt into. Yoesang and Wooyoung reappeared with a set of boots similar to Hongjoong's, ending just below knee height. You slipped them on and did a little spin so the pirates could get a good look at you. "So, do I look like a pirate?" You ask, and Yeosang nods. "Even better, you look like one of us." Wooyoung answered. The three of you headed back out to the deck where most of the others had changed back into their raid outfits you remembered from the Amaryllis. Yunho came over and offered you a plain dagger. "Woah, are you sure about that?" You startle at the sight of the weapon. "Yes, I'm sure. It'll look weird if you aren't armed, and I don't think you can aim a plasma pistol. Besides, Hongjoong said you should be able to defend yourself if the need arises." He shrugged, flipping the blade around in his hand and showing you how to fasten it to your belt. "Thanks." you whisper and Yunho salutes jokingly before returning below deck. "Captain! I've got eyes on Utopia!" Mingi yells from the crow's nest, and everyone begins scrambling around to secure the the  Illusion to dock.   With nothing else for you to do, you go and sit with Seonghwa and Hongjoong, watching the navigator bring the ship into port. Hongjoong looks the same as the night you first met him, terrifying and deadly. You hadn't really looked at the crew of the Illusion too much until recently and you'd noticed they were all very attractive. You hadn't had the chance to gaze at Hongjoong the way you had the others, and you took the current opportunity to do so. You were finding that he was also extremely attractive, especially when he posed with one foot propped up on the railing. "Watch this." Seonghwa whispered to you and gave the ship's wheel a hard turn. The Illusion lurched to the right and Hongjoongbwas thrown off balance, falling on his back. You both snickered, but quickly sobered up when you saw Hongjoong's prosthetic transform from hand to cannon. "Sorry, Captain. Bunch of sky boarders up ahead." Seonghwa lied, trying to stifle his laughter. Hongjoong growled and began to make his way down from the helm to the deck. "Put on the auto park and meet us down on the deck." He muttered as he passed. Seonghwa pressed a series of buttons before slinging his arm over your shoulders and bringing you down to the deck with him. Everyone is gathered on the deck, skyboards waiting for them. You've never been on one before and were more than a little bit terrified of riding one. Airships were one thing, but skyboards were easy to fall off of with deadly consequences. "We can't just use the gangplank or something?" You ask nervously. It earns you a round of chuckles from the pirates as they ready their boards. "The outer rim of Utopia is fairly deteriorated from multiple crashes and disrepair. As you would expect, pirates aren't always recruiting top pilots from the  academy. And infrastructure projects aren't that popular when you add up the costs." Mingi points out, which makes sense. "So we use the boards to get up to the station." Yunho adds. "There's no other way to get over there? Nothing safer?" You tried, eyeing the boards with distrust. San stared at you in astonishment. "You stood up to a crew of dread pirates, survived negotiations with our captain, and nearly escaped from the ship." He deadpanned. "You jumped out a fucking window." Yeosang adds. "And you mean to tell me that you're too afraid to ride a sky board?" The crew started laughing again like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard. "It's fine. We don't have an extra board, so you can ride with me." Wooyoung says, patting his board lovingly. "Wait, who said Y/N was riding with you? They're riding with me." Jongho butted in. "Why would they ride with you? We're closer." Seonghwa argued. Hongjoong whistled loudly before his crew could fall into a full on arguement over who got to ride with you. "They're riding with me. Shut up and get ready to go." He said, finishing the discussion. He waved you over to him and his board. You meandered over timidly, eyeing the aircraft suspiciously. "If I'd known you were so afriad of sky boarding maybe I could have gotten you in line faster." He muttered, adjusting the sail on his board. "Here, hand me that rope." You handed him the rope and watched as he looped it twice between the sail and the mast. "Come here." He beckoned, and you stepped onto the board tentatively. "It won't bite." He chuckled and wrapped the rest of the rope around your waist. He stepped onto the board behind you, chest lined up against you back. One of his arms looped around your waist and held you against him while the other held the rudder. You junped when you felt him whisper in your ear "Hold on tight. And don't look down." Hongjoong started up the motor and the board lifted into the air and soared over the edge of the Illusion. You yelped, clinging onto Hongjoong as he chuckled in your ear. "Don't worry little one, I've got you." He says and if you weren't terrified you might have scoffed. Who was he to call you little? As it was, you couldn't do anything but grip his coat and bury your face in his chest. He banked a hard right turn and you felt yourself fall into the turn and yelped, clinging tighter to Hongjoong. He rolled his eyes as he leveled the board. "Don't choke me. If I pass out you'll have to drive." He points out. You slacken your grip slightly as Hongjoong pulls up to the port. He steps down from the board before untying you and helping you down as well. "Stay close, and don't speak to anyone unless spoken to." Hongjoong whispers and you don't even think of disobeying him. The crew of the Illusion was one thing, but Utopia was like walking into a viper's den. The place was crawling with people of varying states of drunkenness. The presence of Hongjoong and the other crew members at least gave you some sense safety. You stay no less than two steps behind Hongjoong as he walks through the city, slowing leading you all towards the center. You try not to flinch when you hear the sound of glass shattering and pistols firing shots. Mingi and Yunho flank you on either side as you head towards.... well where are you going? "Hongjoong, where are we going?" Hongjoog sighs, but doesn't slow his walking speed. "I thought I said not to speak unless spoken to." "That applied to you too?" You hear Jongho snicker behind you and Seongjwa saves Hongjoong some piece of mind by answering for him. "Pirates aren't very particular to kings, but we needed some form of government in order to coexist in Utopia." You look up at him confused. "Are you saying there's some kind of pirate congress?" "Yes, and our Hongjoongie here has a seat at the table. Since he's here he has to go explain why he's seeking refuge until things blow over with the mariners." He continues. You can now see what must be the 'congress building' looming in the distance. It's the bold mariner base from before Utopia became a haven for pirates. The windows are boarded up and the building has obviously seen better days, but it looks about right for the seat of pirate government. The doors seem to have been blown off, probably back during the original mutiny. A long poorly lit hallway leads to a large conference room absolutely packed to the brim with pirates. If the people outside the congress were scary, the ones inside were terrifying. You recognized half the faces from various wanted posters back home and knew the bounty for most present was above one million credits. Anyone that had stories told about them in the dead of night was sitting at that table. And you followed Hongjoong around the edge to take his seat in his chair, standing slightly behind him and avoiding every eye in the room. "Hongjoong, so nice of you to join us." One of the other captain's spoke up. "I'd like to say it's a pleasure Jiho, but it isn't, so I won't." Hongjoong replied. "Well if you're not here on a social call, why are you here?" A female pirate asked. "I need to lay low for a couple of weeks. We have a mishap on Lemba and the mariners are on high alert." Hongjoong explained and you flinched. "A mishap? That wouldn't have anything to do with the new addition to your crew would it?" Another captain said, smirking at you. You shrunk further behind Hongjoong's chair to hide from his sleazy look. "Maybe so." "Would it have anything to do with your attack on that passenger ship? I thought you were after the big haul." Jiho asked, and you suddenly saw where this conversation was going. They wanted to know who you were, and they wanted to know if you could steer them towards that Kryn tribute ship. Hongjoong's demeanor changed quickly from bored and relaxed to rather aggressive. His prosthetic transformed from arm to cannon once again, and you were starting to think it was instinctual whenever Hongjoong got upset. "I'd appreciate you not trying to undermine my business ventures. Just so we don't have a repeat of the Belovia incident." Hongjoong growled. Your eyes widened as you recalled the stories you'd heard about the Belovia. A merchant ship, heavy with expensive fabrics and rich food had been ransacked originally by the crew of the Star Chaser. However, Hongjoong had then stolen the cargo from that crew,.taking it for himself. And sent a few of the Star Chaser's crew to meet their maker. The other pirates around the table muttered unhappily at the prospect of having their hauls stolen by Kim Hongjoong and company. "Well, all in favor of granting Hongjoong asylum, say 'Aye!" A chorus of 'aye's rose from the table and the captains stood to leave, the meeting adjourned. Well, at least pirate politics weren't time consuming. "We'll see you tonight at the Crooked Bow?" Jiho asked, extending an olive branch. Hongjoong smiled. "It's not a night in Utopia without a trip to the Crooked Bow." The nine of you left the meeting a walked halfway across Utopia to an inn Hongjoong decided was secure enough to stay for the two weeks you'd be on Utopia. Two weeks? It hadn't even been a day and you were exhausted from being constantly scared. After deciding on roommates (a difficult task solved only by Hongjoong declaring that you would be sleeping in his room) you were hard set on passing the fuck out. Until San came by your room on the way out and begged you to come out to the Crooked Bow with the rest of them. You eventually conceded because San always got what he wanted. Hongjoong had griped something about wanting to get wasted and not have to babysit, but you ignored it. The Crooked Bow turned out to be a bar, which wasn't surprising. And it seemed nearly every pirate in Utopia was out to have a drink. You started the night with San and Wooyoung filling you up with as much alcohol as you could bear, and then switched to dancing and singing loudly with Jonho and Yunho. At one point you caught sight of Yeosang chugging pints against a man double his size. Eventually, your large intake of alcohol caught up to you and you stumbled away from the crowd to find a bathroom. You really should have listened to Hongjoong's advice and brought one of the crew with you. Because when you exited the bathroom you found yourself shoved up against a wall painfully. You squinted through your drunk haze as managed to recognize the man from the congress meeting, the sleazy one. You panicked at the feeling of a cold pistol barrel shoved against your stomach. "You know where that Kryn ship will be don't you? You're what Hongjoong attacked that passenger vessel for. He wouldn't have kept someone like you around if you weren't valuable." he slurred, pressing the gun into your hip harder. You struggled, trying to push the man away, but you were too weak and drunk to put up much of a fight. "Hongjoong!" You managed to squeak out, and the pirate added pressure to your windpipe. "The docking schedule. What is it?" He growled and you clawed desperately at his hand to try and get him to release your throat. "Get your filthy fucking hands off of them." You sighed in relief when you heard Hongjoong's voice, snarling at the other pirate captain. He drug the man away from you and handed him off to Jonho by the collar. The youngest member of your little crew had a mean glint in his eye. You almost felt bad for that man. You'd seen what level of strength Jongho was capable off. Hongjoong steered you back to the table you'd all been sitting at at the beginning of the night and sat down, pulling you down into his lap. "What did I say about staying close, hmm?" he whispered, and you shivered when his breathe fanned over your neck. "You don't listen very well do you?" he added, wrapping his arms around you ro pull you closer. Your hands were trapped between your chest and Hongjoong's and you stared down at him blankly. For a moment the two of tou just stared at each other stupidly, and the next the thing you knew, Hongjoong's mouth was on yours, kissing you hungrily. And that's the last thing you remember from that night.

"I told you. Look, don't they look cute together?" You graoned, waking up with a splitting headache for the second time in less than a week. "Oh oh, Y/N is waking up! Shhh!" And for the second time you blinked your eyes open to find seven pirates staring back at you. "The fuck..." oh your mouth tasted awful. "Always cursing first thing. Did you have fun last night? I hope you guys played safely." Wooyoung said, hiding a giggle behind his hand. You moved as if to launch yourself at Wooyoung, but something held you down, pulling you back to the bed. The others laughed as you bounced back onto the mattress and were pulled closer into someone's arms. You looked over to see Hongjoong, fast asleep. He was still wearing his pants and coat, but his shirt was missing. Well, missing wasn't quite the right word because you were wearing Hongjoong's shirt. In fact, it was the only thing you were wearing. Hongjoong had his arms wrapped around your waist and your legs were tangled together. You looked up at the rest of the crew from underneath your awful bedhead. "What did I do last night?"

[artificialqueens]

What Happens At DragCon... (6/?) (Biadore) - Miss Alyssa Secret

Today was one for impulsive actions, and humping each other’s legs while in full drag in a storage closet with Raja on the other side of the wall definitely qualified.  Unapologetic smut with a side order of humor.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2-4 / Chapter 5   

Read the full work and comment on AO3

A/N: This story was supposed to be a one-shot, but you guys asked for more :)  Thank you for that - feedback to writers is what keeps us writing! 

I never knew I needed Adore stuffing her panties into Roy’s mouth to keep him quiet until I wrote this.  Not sorry about it.  -MAS

********

A couple of hours later, Roy had completed a circuit around the entire floor, browsing leisurely and gawking along with everyone else at the outrageous looks walking by.  He even did some shopping, unable to resist buying a few new palettes and brushes.  Thankfully, there was also an ATM on site which neatly solved the problem of having to use a card with his name on it.  

On the downside, no corset meant nowhere to tuck things like his phone and wallet.  Adore didn’t carry a clutch or bag as part of her look the way Bianca did, so he was left wedging things in wherever he could.  He didn’t know how girls managed with useless pockets.

He’d made a pass by Adore’s booth again from a distance, watching her interact with fans in a way that Bianca never had a chance to see.  Her genuine excitement in meeting people and delight at the myriad of gifts radiated in her smile, and she patiently hugged and wiped tears as her line never seemed to get any shorter.  

There was a close call when Darienne passed through the crowd less than five feet away, although she didn’t linger.  It was tempting to look in on Mariah as well, but in the end he stayed well away.  Nether of them knew he was even in the country, and he didn’t want to explain.  (He could hear his favorite shady elephant now - “International booty call, thirsty bitch.”)

When he checked again, Adore had taken off to prepare for the runway show, and Roy started to head over for a good spot.  He paused across from Raja’s booth to let an Alyssa fan in a wheelchair pass.

“There! That one.”

Her voice carried over the buzz of the crowd, and he turned to find her pointing straight at him.

”Him.  Bring him to me.”  The regal command was gentle but firm.  Her assistant nodded and waded into the fray.  

”Excuse me?” The young woman looked confused but politely determined.  “Raja wants you.”

“What are you doing?” he mouthed at Raja as he was led back behind the table, receiving only a smug smile in response.

”Thank you dear.”  Raja waved her off once Roy was standing beside her, pulling him in to air kiss both cheeks.

“Sarah, this is the one I promised I’d bring to Katya for a reading.”  She stood, gripping him by the elbow.  “Back in a bit.”

********

Raja’s long legs left him stumbling in her wake, feeling woefully short without Bianca’s heels and hair.  The crowd parted around her like the grass before a gazelle, too busy focusing on her supermodel walk to notice her shadow.

Roy wasn’t sure where they were headed, but it certainly wasn’t towards Katya’s booth or the dressing room from earlier.  She didn’t seem inclined to explain, ushering him through a nondescript door at the side of the hall.  Nodding at the bored security guy as they passed, Raja continued down a service hallway before finally stopping in front of a door marked Utility Closet.

“What-?” He leaned forward, slightly out of breath from the pace she’d set…also, the chunky platform boots were a whole lot heavier than his standard stacked pumps.

Raja knocked twice before throwing open the door and casually pushing him inside.

”Delivery!”

Her voice cut off when the door closed behind him, and he blinked in the dim lighting as someone pinned him against the wall.  If the flash of gold lamé didn’t give her identity away, he still would have been able to recognize Adore by the throaty moan as their hips came into contact.

She opened the door just enough to reveal Raja lounging on the opposite side.

”Thanks man, I really owe you.”

Raja waved off her thanks, making a show of fishing a pair of AirPods from inside her bra and settling them in her ears.

”Try not to be too loud?  I’ll knock again in ten and you better both be decent.”

Roy was still processing when the door swung shut again and Adore - stripped down to just her thong - pressed her thigh between his own, claiming his mouth hungrily.

“…’Dore…hey, hang on-“ he managed between kisses.

”No time,” she breathed into his ear, tugging the skin below it with her teeth.  “Gotta finish getting ready but I needed you.”

”Fuck.”  Her hands slipped under his shirt, pinching and rolling and flicking his nipples until they were exquisitely sensitive.

”Shut up and kiss me.”  The husky demand made his cock twitch, and he complied without further argument, lips parted and both hands groping her ass while they kissed, open-mouthed and filthy.

The shorts were getting far too tight as he rubbed against her hip, but the constriction also felt deliciously risqué.  Today was one for impulsive actions, and humping each other’s legs while in full drag in a storage closet with Raja on the other side of the wall definitely qualified.  He normally had issues giving up control, but a desperate and intent Adore spoke to the part of him that wanted to let her take charge.

One of her hands moved unerringly to pop the buttons, yanking the shredded denim down together with the fishnets.  

“You’re.  So.  Fucking.  Hot,” Adore groaned, punctuating each word with bruising kisses.  She paired squeezing his restrained cock with a hard tug on his nipple and he moaned loudly, vision gone blank with lust. 

“Fuck me.”  Roy bit his lip as she dropped to her knees, giving the strap of his underwear a playful tug on the way down that teased his hole and forced out a whimper.

They both jumped at the thud from the other side of the door.

Adore paused, frowning.  It could have looked ridiculous together with the erection tenting black silk, but to him she looked like some sort of obscene sculpture, an erotic goddess of lust and seduction.  She stood, skimming off the thong and balling it up in her hand before shoving the wadded up fabric into his mouth.

Roy didn’t think it was possible to get any harder.

Licking her palm, she wrapped long fingers around both of their cocks together, rocking experimentally.  

“Fuck yeah,” she moaned, tensing as one of his hands found its way between her cheeks and rubbed dry across her hole.  Her grip tightened, slippery with leaking pre-come.  

Unable to speak, he clenched his teeth around the silk when the hand teasing his nipples moved to grip his arm, nails digging into his bicep.  The taste of Adore’s sweat on his tongue combined with her gasping breaths and the slick sound as she jerked them off heightened his arousal to painful levels.  The feeling of her shaft sliding against his own, throbbing in her fist, made him thrust faster.

“Fucking love you like this,” Adore licked up the side of his throat, painting hot stripes with her tongue.  “Let me have you, fuck, let me…” 

There was a light switch digging into his back and both of their makeup was probably ruined.  Roy ignored it in the headlong race towards orgasm.

He worked just the tip of a finger inside of her, eyes rolling back when she retaliated by biting down hard on the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

” ‘M close,” she panted out and he moaned in response.  “Come with me.”

He could feel her arching in pleasure, hand speeding up.  She kissed him roughly, tongue seeking out and playing with his through the silk.

Just a little more.  Almost-

CLICK

“What the fuck?!” Adore’s head whipped towards the door as it opened and Raja backed inside.  

”Sorry, sorry sorry sorry guys,” she hissed, deliberately staring at the wall.

Roy spit out Adore’s panties, pulled back from the edge as the shock wore off.  His sex-fogged brain was still keeping track of time, and they should have had enough time left.

Adore had let go of their (rapidly softening) erections, but her other arm still held them close together.  He didn’t think it was an attempt at modesty on her part - it would hardly be the first time Raja had seen either of them naked - and filed it away for later thought.

”I’m really sorry guys,” Raja continued.  “But they’re looking for you,” she waved vaguely towards Adore, “and someone must have seen you come down here.  I told them you were outside smoking, but they’re probably gonna come back when they don’t find you up there.”

”Fucking…cockblock…” Adore shoved her feet into her pants, pulling them up her legs as Roy tried to fix his own clothes.  Raja’s back was still turned, and he offered her the now-damp panties back.  She stuffed them in her pocket with a tiny smile, shared a lingering kiss, and disappeared out the door.

Roy finished tucking himself back into a more or less presentable state, doing his best to ignore the fabric rubbing against his sensitive dick, and sighed.

”Did they want to know what you were doing down here?”  His voice managed to sound both annoyed and fucked out.

Raja turned around, expression full of apology and amusement.

”Told them I needed to meditate and the energy was good here.”  

“Of course.”

[witchfall]

the silver lining still remains: ch. 3

SUMMARY: “I'm glad you are here,” he finally says. “I'm glad it wasn't the alternative.”

Heat spikes in her spine. His voice isn’t loud, but its intensity fills the room like a vapor, pressing against her skin like warm breath. She stares at his fidgeting hands. Which alternative?

A Connor x F!OC fanfic. Read on AO3. ch. 2.

--

Hank hates hospitals. The chalky, fluorescent light makes his skin crawl. The chattering junkies, the sobbing husbands and wives, the harried nurses snapping at each other -- it’s too much hell for one damn building. It may be the worst possible place for Connor to experience his latest Fucking Mysterious Emotion, but like most crapshoot things in life, Connor didn’t get a hand in choosing it (and neither, frankly, did Hank).

Still. He can’t exactly leave the kids to deal with this all on their own. He and Connor have a job to do, after all.

Emma sits silently, boot heels digging into the examination table. An android nurse softly dabs at the wounds on her jaw. Hank and Connor sit in uncomfortable, plastic chairs off to the side as the nurse pointedly puts herself between Emma and the detectives, prompting frustrated jolts of movement from his android partner.

“Just sit still. Whatdya think is going to happen?” Hank hisses.

Connor stares at the back of the nurse, messing with his coin. “I don’t know.” That’s the problem, his tone implies.

But Hank and Connor do their due diligence, because Emma’s made it clear she “just wants it over with.” They take down her statement (“I was called out to some weird ass place on the east side and got ganked by some fucking weirdos”), swab for ballistics and DNA, and schedule a time for an interview. She says as little as possible. Hank can’t blame her.

They’re nearly to Hank’s car before Emma says anything unprompted.

“I don’t want to go back to my house,” she says, not looking at either of them. Her voice has that muted quality of one trying not to cry. “So we can just go back to the station or whatever.”

Connor’s hands, which are rubbing together in that nervous way he does, freeze in the air. “There are not many comfortable areas to sleep there.”

Emma shrugs. She rubs her arms. She pointedly doesn’t look at either of them. Something’s eating at her. And not just the fact that she was almost shot.

“You’re not a criminal,” Hank says pointedly. “I’m not bringing you to the station.”

Connor’s face is unreadable but his eyes are trained on Emma. Hank has that old sinking feeling in his chest that signals he is about to do something absolutely dumb as hell.

“We probably have room for you,” Hank says.

Emma finally looks at him, eyes sharp. The woman isn’t stupid. “Really?”

“Yes,” Connor says before Hank can respond. “My room is available to you.”

Emma turns to him slowly, as if the words are reaching her from across a far distance.

“I don’t require a bed,” Connor says as unhelpful explanation.

Hank rubs his forehead with his palms. “One of us can take the couch. Take the offer or leave it.”

She closes her eyes for a long moment. “Fine,” she says, so quiet he barely hears it.

Connor gives him a look -- the minorest of smirks. But as Hank watches his partner’s shoulders relax for the first time all evening, he remembers why he does dumb things like this in the first place.

--

Hank’s house is more lively tonight than it has been in months, but that isn’t saying much when the audience is a dog, a perturbed android and a woman who’d been shot. Emma plods off to Connor’s room clinging to a pile of clean clothes that Hank scrounged up for her with little more than a ‘thanks,’ and Connor sits primly on the couch, watching her as she goes.

Hank sighs.

He’s not blind. Something about her makes Connor act like a lost boy from Neverland. Hank doesn’t know everything about their friendship -- he doesn’t really ask, because its not his business -- but he knows it at least exists, in some form. Tonight proved that. Which is more than he could say about Connor’s relationships with most people.

Revolutions are slower than they appear. And Connor was a...strange case.

“Talk to me,” Hank says, throwing his coat on one of the dining chairs. “You’ll short out or something.”

Only once Emma closes the bedroom door does Connor take off his tie with a sharp whap . “This case isn’t over,” he says. “Don’t let Fowler tell you it is.” He leans over his knees and places his head in his hands -- a split second loss of control.

He may be an android, and thus preternaturally good looking. But he looks like hell.

“You were scared,” Hank explains flatly. “It’s one thing to stare your own death in the face. It’s another when its…”

He doesn’t finish that sentence.

“Well, it drove me to drink,” he says instead.

Connor leans back against the sofa, head slowly tilting until he’s looking at the ceiling. Hank sighs. He knows too well that Connor won’t find the answers he’s looking for up there.

--

Emma flings her arms out against the cool sheets, eyes closed against the roiling storm in her gut. The anxiety stretches out like a claw from her pelvis to her ribs, squeezing.

There will be no sleeping tonight. There wouldn’t be sleeping even if she wasn’t in Connor’s bed (weird), alone (not unusual), watching the shadows of the electrical lines dance against the curtains (creepy). For once, she’s not alone in the house -- but it’s just not enough.

None of her tools are working. The deep breaths, the thought breakers. She tried Aikido stances earlier and that helped until she got back into bed, where the anxiety pounced as soon as she wrapped herself up in his stiff sheets. Just get through this moment. Just breathe through this moment. You will survive this. You can survive this. What’s the worst that could happen?

But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. She thinks of Connor’s face in the alleyway and she has no fucking clue how she could survive the worst that might have happened. It's like trying to rein in a monster that'd been deprived of food for too long. She's lost control, and there is no getting it back in the cage.

So she rolls out of bed again, swinging her feet to the floor, and walks quietly as she can to the door. She opens it slowly. Blue light from the TV spills into the hall and Sumo huffs unbothered in his sleep outside her and Hank’s rooms.

Would Connor be in low-power mode yet? Android sleep? Zoning out? He explained it once, but he seemed vaguely embarrassed by it at the time so she didn’t press. But even his persistent questioning would be better than languishing in this semi-sleep nightmarescape all alone, so she takes the chance.

Naturally, he is sitting up on the couch, alert as if the sun was out, facing the TV. He is looking down slightly, so there was likely a book or something in his lap. For a strange, beautiful moment, he doesn’t seem to notice her at all.

She openly observes the back of his head -- hair perfectly kept, except at the top. Collar wrinkled, coat slightly askew...

He tilts his head slightly and she does so as well to match him, curious.

What does he think about, all alone late at night?

His LED spins from blue to yellow to red before she can move and he whips around with unnatural speed. Their eyes meet; it reminds her of an icicle slipping from the roof. Something cracks between them. She nearly jumps back at its power.

But then she remembers what she’s wearing.

Emma has on a navy t-shirt that says ‘I DON’T TRIP I TEST GRAVITY’ and sky blue sweats that are tied as tight as possible around her natural waist. Her shoulders are at once too broad while her arms are too short, putting the t-shirt seams in strange places. The pants are tight around her butt but drape like curtains to the ground. Another shirt ties her coily hair up. She looks like a laundry pile that’s gained sentience.

In fairness, she’s never seen him so disheveled before. His tie is gone, his shirt is unbuttoned part of the way and his blazer is rumpled. He also looks good, still, because he’s a fucking android. God, disappearing would be better than this.

“Do you really sleep like that?” she blurts.

He looks like a deer ambushed in the night. “Can you...rephrase?”

“Do you sleep in those clothes?” She nearly winces at the bitterness in her voice. “Just like that?”

“No,” he says too quickly. His eyes dart to the side, as if caught in a lie. “I don't…really sleep in the traditional sense…”

She bites her lip (annoyed that she's amused) and lets the moment pass, hoping he leaves it be. She mutters about needing air (thinking, unfortunately, of the casual wear she knows Hank must have forced upon him) as she shoves her feet into boots.

“I would not recommend going outside…”

She pushes out to the front yard, into the wind and snow showers just to feel it on her skin. Of course, he doesn't leave it be, which she's grateful for.

It’s a real bitch of a situation.

He follows out at a respectful distance. His presence is like a bloom of light, impossible to miss in the corner of her eye. “Your life signs are clearly elevated,” he says quietly. She can see him turn more directly toward her in realization. “You feel unsafe.”

His tone signals deep confusion.

She isn’t in the mood to explain how her brain remains convinced that danger is around every corner and has worked that way since as long as she can remember. She has a danger sense that won’t shut the fuck up. A young girl cowers in the bedroom closet as the storm rattles her windows. The fear, illogical, possesses body and spirit, uncontested.

She crosses her arms and stares at the ground. The cold is sharp and real, defanging the sharp coils working through her body.

“I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin,” she says, a little more truthfully than she’d like. “It just happens, sometimes.”

She expects him to ask what he can do to help, and she’s ready to say nothing because there is nothing. No one can make her brain stop malfunctioning except herself and maybe the meds she ran out of prescription for years ago. It’s a singularly individual war with a battlefield well-beaten from engagement.

He puts his thin coat over her shoulders. He stands there in a thin white shirt, unbothered.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he asks quietly. She can feel his eyes on her cheekbones, watching.

She covers her face a moment as if rubbing warmth back into it, but mostly to hide her surprise at the question. Deep breaths. “My dad.” She lets her hands flop back down to her thighs. “I dunno. It always came natural. I was eight years old shootin’ cans off of stumps.”

He stares out into the night with her. It's a good thing no one is out tonight. What a sight they likely make. “Is this a normal thing to teach a young child?”

“It is in the Midwest.”

He adjusts his sleeves nervously as he moves closer, angling himself to block the worst of the wind from her. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.”

She looks up to the sky -- clouded and starless -- and shivers hard. “Not bad.” She lets the silence linger a moment. Lets herself miss her father. “I dunno, I just…I can't shake the feeling like something is catching up.” She wraps her arms around her middle. “I know it's stupid.”

It's the same tectonic plate, the same force wave that followed her parents’ deaths. She’s tipped over into something and there’s no stopping the tsunami now. That's what it feels like. Running from a shadow that looms so large its unfathomable.

Moving from town to town…she hadn't thought of it in so long, how commonplace it was until suddenly it wasn't. She'd been in Michigan, at least, for over 7 years now. And then this happens. Maybe she’s just cursed.

But Kid Emma would have killed for a tenure of that longevity. For a chance to make friends like...

“You say you were lucky,” Connor says, and something about his tone makes her shift her gaze toward him. “I don't like to rely on luck or coincidences, and there are…too much of both.”

She gives a small nod at that. She lets her eyes linger on his face.

“You’re conflicted,” she observes.

“You’re the first person that hasn’t successfully disappeared.” He looks to her boots. “I’d rather you not be embroiled in this investigation at all.”

“You and me both.” She smiles a little bit to ease the blow. He frowns; the joke didn’t land, so she presses on. “Don’t change your entire workflow because of me. You have to do what you have to do to stop this shit.”

His LED spins yellow and red and back again as he stares at her in silence. She turns away and gives him time to process. She shivers so hard her jaw aches.

“You’ll soon experience symptoms of hypothermia if you don’t go inside.”

She sighs. “Yeah.”

He moves to open the door to the house, looking to her expectantly. She rolls her eyes dramatically but she follows the unspoken command.

The living room is blessedly warm. The monster in her gut finally starts to let go as she kicks off her boots. She turns to say something to Connor, something sassy maybe so he knows she isn’t completely cowed, but she’s shocked into silence when she nearly runs right into him. He’s watching her, unreadable.

“Are you okay?” She asks him instead.

“I’m not the one that was injured today.”

“Con.”

He blinks a few times, like he’s getting a call. She’s grown attached to the way he responds to the nickname, like he’s suddenly come into possession of a strange secret -- but he doesn’t say anything.

She turns away before the thrumming in her head turns her blind.

Instead, Emma settles into the far end of the couch, picking up the book that he may have been looking at before. Some old sci-fi book, from the looks of it. Ender’s Game. She flips through the well-worn pages, curious -- pointedly not looking at him as he finally sits down.

“I'm glad you are here,” he finally says. “I'm glad it wasn't the alternative.”

Heat spikes in her spine. His voice isn’t loud, but its intensity fills the room like a vapor, pressing against her skin like warm breath. She stares at his fidgeting hands. Which alternative? Maybe she isn’t the only person in this house kept awake, in a sense, by what had happened today. It feels too big to wrap your head around alone.

“Living is good when you got it.” She glances up to his face. He’s staring in that way again, like he’s trying to write the vague nature of memory into code.

He looks so painfully serious that she smiles to try and break it up.

“So what do you do out here at 3 a.m.?” she asks. “Read? Brood moodily?”

His face flickers from shock into the approximation of a smirk. “I read, sometimes. Work on cases. Watch whatever is on.”

She glances at the news channel running silently on Hank’s set. Nothing good, as usual.

“I have an idea,” she says, just as the idea forms. If she says it now, maybe she won’t get spooked enough to reject it outright. “How about I read this book to you? Have you gotten very far?”

He tilts his head in thought, eyes dancing away. “I couldn’t bring myself to start it.”

Her heart clenches a little. “Maybe it’ll be really boring and we’ll both fall into sleep mode. Or maybe it’ll be cool and we’ll stay up all night anyway. What have we got to lose at this point?”

Connor freezes in place, as he often does when processing something complex. His LED spins red as blood and her face burns brightly in turn.

God, her stupid human brain just lets ideas spill out all over the place, doesn’t it? She’s living on a lark but of course he can’t.

“I didn’t mean to--”

“Please stay,” he blurts out suddenly. “I’d like to hear you read it.”

Fear warms over and settles in her bones as relief.

--

Hank steps out of his room in the morning and is stunned into silence by the sight.

Emma is on the couch, clearly asleep. She breathes slowly, head and shoulders slumped against a pillow propped up on Connor’s torso, book on her lap with the spine pointing up. Just let me close my eyes a minute. Connor’s jacket is on her shoulder. And Connor sits up with his head tilted slightly to the opposite side that Emma is leaning upon, LED blinking blue -- the tell-tale sign of low-power mode.

Well...shit.

Hank slams the door to the bathroom just a little louder than usual to try and spare them the embarrassment.

[tappity-tap]

IchiHime - “What Brings Us Together”

[IchiHime/RenRuki]

Story Rating: T+ Warnings: Smoking, some sexual content (borderline nsfw) Summary: When Rukia and Renji suddenly drop in one night to announce they've gotten married, Ichigo is forced to confront the unexpected feelings that arise from the shocking news...including one he’s been denying all along. Set right after ch 1 of the “Ceremony” section in “WE DO knot ALWAYS LOVE YOU”.

Married.

The sharp click of the lock sliding into place barely registered.

We’re married.

Sound bites from the conversation played over and over like a broken record in his mind as he shuffled back into the house.

“…ah, see? Toldja he’s still up.”

“Renji…? Rukia…? The hell you guys doing here?! It’s almost midnight!”

His feet dragged and felt like they were made of lead every time he lifted a leg to mount each step. Going up the stairs took twice as long as usual.

“We’re sorry for the short notice, Ichigo, but this was too important to wait.”

“Lemme guess…you got a promotion? No…you were kicked out of Soul Society. Ah, wait, I got it…you secretly eloped and you’re on the run cause Byakuya found out.”

“…hey that’s impressive, he’s actually closer’n Inoue ‘an ya didn’t even hafta give ‘im a hint.”

“That’s not close at all, Renji! Nii-sama knew AND approved!”

His bedroom was in sight now but it still felt miles away.

“…wait….no way……”

“Well, actually…yeah. Me ‘an Rukia completed our nyuseki today. We’re married.”

“The wedding is in two weeks. We’d be honored if you and the others were present for it.”

He didn’t bother turning on the light after he closed the door. There was enough illumination from the streetlamp coming through the window (even with the curtains mostly drawn) and that’s how he was able to walk straight to his bed and flop down on it. And then he simply lay there and stared at the ceiling. Sometimes he found if he stared hard enough in the dark, he could just make out the shape of the lamp mounted above him.

“So…they got married, huh?” he asked it. He didn’t know why…it wasn’t like it could respond. But saying things aloud occasionally gave him the kick-start he needed to sort through his thoughts.

Honestly when it came down to it, the notion of Renji and Rukia’s relationship turning romantic at some point wasn’t that surprising, especially where Renji was concerned. Two confrontations with him were all Ichigo needed to realize he was head over heels in love with her. It really wasn’t that hard to notice once all the tough talk and bravado were stripped away; The guy basically wore his heart on his sleeve.

Rukia, on the other hand…now she was a hell of a lot harder to figure out. Sure, there were a few times she’d talked about Renji and the history they shared, but she never once actually specified what the nature of their relationship was. That was probably one of those emotional vulnerabilities she was reluctant to discuss with other people, so he was never entirely sure if Rukia’s association with Renji went beyond close friendship. Not until Renji thanked him for bringing them “back to where they once were,” and Ichigo finally got the sense what they shared between them was something not entirely platonic and definitely not one-sided.

Even knowing that, it was still hard to say when they’d gotten serious about each other since number one, they never told him (until that night, obviously) and number two, they never really acted like a couple in public. But really, when taking into account some of the people they associated with, he couldn’t exactly blame them for wanting to keep their private life just that. So suddenly springing it on him that they were legally married and the formal ceremony would take place in two weeks was more like pulling a light sucker punch than dropping an entire bombshell.

Although, looking back on it, he probably could’ve come up with a better first response than squinting at them and scoffing.

Come to think of it…Ichigo still had no idea why he reacted like that. Smiling and offering congratulations, like any normal person would do, was apparently not a thing his instincts had ever heard of. At least he had the voluntary sense to do that. Eventually. But not before fumbling through a hasty apology to his bewildered (not to mention, slightly offended) friends.

Still wallowing in his thoughts, he groped around on top of the comforter for his pajamas and after a minute only came up with the bottoms. Whatever. Right now, he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get to bed as quickly as possible. Taking off his jeans in the dark fared simple enough, it was figuring out which side of the flannel pants was front that gave him a bit of trouble. But again, too tired to care. So what if he went to sleep wearing backwards pants? No one was going to see him anyways. He yanked them on and burrowed under the covers, feeling just as sullen as before.  

Outside, two distinct laughs suddenly echoed through the alleyway. Great. Another thing to keep him awake tonight. Well, at least someone in the vicinity was having a good time. Ichigo hooked his finger under the curtain and lifted it slightly, just enough to see directly in front of the house. The late-night revelers were a little off to the right so he had to shuffle around and angle himself in the corner of the window to actually see them properly. It took a minute but when he realized who they were, he almost dropped the curtain in surprise.

Okay, he’d have to scratch that “never really acted like a couple in public” point because he was witnessing it right now with his own two eyes and he had to admit, it was actually kind of sweet.

Guided by the glow of the streetlamp, Rukia was ever so daintily traversing the low wall surrounding the hedges like a tightrope walker while Renji strolled along on the ground at her side, acting as spotter and escort. With this arrangement, she was actually a head taller than him for once, though if this bothered him at all he was doing a fantastic job of hiding it. Their faces weren’t very clear due to distance and time of night but they both seemed in equally high spirits. And relaxed. More relaxed than he’d ever seen them before. Also, was it his imagination or did Renji just take something out of his mouth and exhale a small puff of smoke? Ah, right…Rukia mentioned once that he liked to have an occasional cigarette while in a Gigai and by the tone of her voice, it sounded like she didn’t mind at all. That was probably why they hadn’t gone back to Soul Society just yet.

They stopped when they reached the end of the wall so Renji could clamp his cigarette between his lips, then let go and turned back in perfect sync, Rukia’s long layered skirt fluttering out around her legs and settling just as her hand landed in Renji’s. Unfortunately, the first step she took forward from there wasn’t very stable (probably due to her watching Renji instead of where she was going) and she almost took a tumble into the bushes. Regaining her balance didn’t take too long though, not when Renji held tight the entire time. In the moment after the near misfortune they stood perfectly still, hand in hand and face to face, hair and clothes swaying gently in a freshly picked-up breeze.

The cigarette was suddenly flicked to the ground where it glowed bright orange for a few seconds before going out completely under the heel of Renji’s boot. Then Rukia tugged her muffler away from her face and leaned forward with her arms wound around Renji’s neck and his hands moved to her waist aaand there was no mistaking it now; They were kissing. Not a quick little peck on the lips either, nope, this was full-on TV romance drama level kissing. After some time Renji even lifted her up off the wall and held her tightly in his arms, the two of them still going at it without a care in the world.

At that point, Ichigo figured his uninvited gaze had overstayed its welcome. He let the curtain fall back into place so the newlyweds could continue their moonlight rendezvous sans optical intrusion. Well…good for them. They deserved to be happy together, he knew that. Then why was he feeling so down all of a sudden? Like some irrational little voice in his head was telling him it wasn’t fair for them to act content and in love right in front of him? It was almost as if he was…

Ichigo froze. No, that was absurd. She may have dramatically changed his life for the better, but he never saw Rukia as anything other than his most trusted ally and mentor figure. And Renji? Not his type. At all. But even though he was racking his brain for another word to describe this emotion seeping into him like a stain, only one kept coming up.

Jealousy.

“Ridiculous. I’m not jealous.” He rolled back to his initial position and sighed at the ceiling in exasperation. Just as before, the lamp up there refused to comment. That irrational little voice down in his head, however, was only more than happy to offer its input.

Is it so ridiculous?

“Of course it is.”

Are you sure? Maybe you ARE being a little resentful.

“Why the hell would I be resentful?”

Because they’re reminding you of something you want.

“I don’t want anything.”

Oh, but you do. And you want it desperately.

“No. I don’t.”

Denying it won’t change how you feel about her.

Her…just like that, the dark in his room wasn’t so dark anymore: A smile bright with laughter…golden brown eyes, shining like the sun…a glimmer of blue riding flowing waves of auburn…

Giving a scoff, Ichigo flung his forearms over his eyes to block out the images. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You can lie all you like, Ichigo, but we both know the truth.

Harder and harder he pressed, until brightly colored spots danced across his vision. “I am NOT in love with her,” he insisted, so quiet and weak there was no possible way anyone who heard would have accepted this as the truth. Even his own ears found it hard to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

He eased the pressure and watched as every last spot slowly faded away, waiting for a snarky reply. But there was nothing more from the voice, only the weight of heavy silence and pitch black crushing down on him. And instead of abstract splotches, it was forming a new set of images before his eyes.

This time, he was down on the pavement under the streetlamp, watching Renji take a drag of his cigarette while Rukia hopped up onto the wall next to him. He saw Renji smile and stretch out his hand to Rukia in an unusually gentleman-like fashion. He watched Rukia take it, blushing, and allow Renji to guide her as she sashayed along the narrow wall. And then it wasn’t Renji anymore. He was Renji. Or rather, Renji (along with his cigarette) had vanished and Ichigo was somehow tagged in to replace him.

But he’d barely taken one step before Rukia’s small fingers lengthened within his grasp, her appearance faded and dissolved away until he was looking into an entirely new face. Different, yet it was just as familiar and warm as the hand now clinging tightly to his.  

“Promise you’ll catch me if I slip?” Those curious amber eyes peered down at him.

Ichigo smiled softly and gave the girl’s hand a quick squeeze. “I won’t let you fall,” he vowed.

Merely four steps later, her ankle buckled and she keeled dangerously toward him with a startled squeak. But as promised, his honed reflexes and steady arms were her saving grace.

Safely secured in his embrace, she laughed sheepishly. “Heh heh…sorry…I wasn’t paying attention…” In the light her smile looked so beautiful like that, framed by long locks of hair stirring in the wind.

“Hey…it’s fine.” Gently, he slid her down his front until her feet skimmed the ground. She landed with a soft thump. “I’m here for you.”

The way she lowered her lashes and blushed made his stomach flutter pleasantly. “I know,” she whispered. His heart thrummed under the button she was toying with on his sweater. “Um…can I kiss you, Ichigo?”

If he were a teakettle, he would’ve been whistling a happy tune by now. Laughing, he brushed her bangs aside and leaned forward to meet her. “You don’t need to ask, you know…”

The kiss tasted just like her…so sweet, so pure. Like honey, or spring right after a light rainfall. Yes, it sounded stupid when he thought it but that was really the only way he could describe it. A dizzying happiness bubbled up inside with every sigh she made, and he pulled her into him until he could feel every soft curve mold flush to his body. Round, plush curves that gave easily in his hands and he relished in the little gasps she made with each firm squeeze. But soon, it wasn’t enough…he needed more.

When her back bumped into the glass doors, she giggled excitedly. And when he dropped to his knees and fumbled clumsily under her dress, she eagerly helped him by gathering up the hem and lifting it out of the way so he could slide her tights and panties down her legs. After that, he lost himself completely in everything she had to offer: Her intoxicating flavor on his tongue, her flushed smooth skin under his fingers, the way she exhaled when she whimpered his name, high and breathless.

“Ichigo…ahhhh…Ichigo…”

He’d never done this to a girl before but Ichigo figured he was probably doing something right judging from the secondhand tremors passing through him and the set of fingernails digging painfully into his scalp. By his hand (well, technically his mouth) she was rapidly coming undone and it didn’t take long before the end was in sight.

“I-Ichigo…ohhh, I-I think I’m…”

Ichigo pulled out for one last gulp of air and murmured only a single word as he dove back in for the finale push:

“…Orihime…”

Suddenly, a surge of adrenaline rushed through him. Ichigo opened his eyes and straightened up with a start…not from hunched over on his knees in front of the clinic, but from lying flat on his bed, in his bedroom. Outside, a chorus of sparse chirps heralded the first yawning sunbeams as they stretched through the thin curtain and half-heartedly cast his room in a faint light.

Morning. So it was all a dream.

Now he just needed to wait for his body to catch up to his brain but that wasn’t proving an easy task. Taking in deep measured breaths did absolutely nothing to calm his racing heart. The t-shirt he’d fallen asleep in was damp with sweat and when he looked down at himself he saw he wasn’t the only one waking up nice and early. Fantastic. What a wonderful start to the day this was turning out to be. And all thanks to his subconscious’ stupid imagined scenario about making moves on Orihime.

The second surge hit and his stomach heaved violently. With the last remaining dregs of erotic ecstasy completely burned off, exhilaration quickly gave way to horror. Dismayed, Ichigo curled in on himself.

Damn this…I’m nothing but a selfish brute.

He felt numb and sick with guilt. How could he think about Orih-about Inoue in such a disgusting manner? Inoue…his friend. Who’d always been there for him when he needed her, who trusted him with her life. Only the foulest of perverts would have such lecherous thoughts about someone who’d been nothing less than a faithful companion to him. What would she think of him if she knew he’d gotten completely hot and bothered from a fantasy about kissing her and…and holy shit, he fantasized about putting his mouth on Inoue. It was nothing short of reprehensible.

Worst of all? While Ichigo knew it was wrong, he still wanted so very badly for it to be real. He wanted to be with someone who was kind, brave, compassionate, and beautiful. He wanted to walk hand in hand with her, laugh with her, protect her, fight by her side, and god yes, even kiss her and touch her in ways that made her feel incredible. Because that someone was the most wonderful person he’d ever met and he wanted her to know it every waking minute for the rest of her life.

That someone was Inoue Orihime.

Ichigo hung his head in shame. No, there was no denying it anymore…he was utterly and hopelessly in love with her. What he witnessed last night outside his window, the happiness between two newlyweds who were so in love and so ready to spend the rest of their lives together? That was exactly what he desired with Inoue. And it pained him to the depths of his soul that this would never happen. He knew he couldn’t be with her; Inoue didn’t see him in that way and she certainly didn’t deserve to have any unsolicited confessions or advances sprung on her out of nowhere.

So then he did the only thing he could think to do in this position: Lay a hand over his forehead and give a weak laugh. And another. And laugh pathetically some more. Because fuck everything.

When he couldn’t milk ironic amusement from his pitiful situation any longer, Ichigo collapsed back onto his bed with a heavy groan and an abrupt realization that from the depths of his emotional turmoil had sprung a newfound respect for a certain idiot redhead.

Because how the hell someone could feel like this about a woman for 50 years without losing it, he had absolutely no idea.

Author’s Notes: It took me a little longer to get a good enough grasp on IchiHime to feel comfortable writing it like this. But I got so many requests after FBlWY that I couldn’t shake it off and while writing a series of short stories several ended up focusing on them. I was considering illustrating this but since it turned out more as a study on Ichigo’s thoughts than anything else nothing felt quite right.

The conversation Ichigo has with himself is supposed to be like the conversations he had between himself and his Hollow powers...except here they aren’t trying to mind-murder him. They’re just being that annoying friend who won’t leave you alone until you admit you like someone. lol

If you know me well enough by now then you probably don’t need to ask because you know the answer to this already. But for the newbies here: Yes the title is playing on a line from the film “The Princess Bride” and that a marriage is EXACTLY what it took to get the ball rolling and finally bring Ichigo and Orihime together romantically.

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard

Skies meets some interesting people on her first day as Handsome Jack's bodyguard. Previous! Next!

--

Chapter 6

           I spent my entire life travelling through space. I’ve been to countless different planets. I’ve seen exploding stars, supernovas, and black holes. So you’d think that the view of Pandora from my Helios penthouse wouldn’t be that interesting in comparison. And objectively, it wasn’t. But there was just something about the fact that it was my view; that I had seen it for the past month I’d been living on Helios and knowing that I’d see it every day for the foreseeable future.

           It…I don’t know. It was nice.

           Anyway, my first day as Jack’s official bodyguard wasn’t overly interesting but it was important. As soon as the clock struck daytime hours, I got up and went straight for the fast travel station in the apartment district. Most people wouldn’t be able to teleport directly into Handsome Jack’s office, but that’s because they don’t have my bio-signature.

           I appeared in Jack’s lobby and went into his office. He was sitting at his desk and looked up as I walked in.

           “Hey, right on time,” he chimed, standing up. His smile disappeared as he looked me over. “Haven’t you done any shopping since you’ve been here?”        

           I looked down at my clothes: plain pants and a black t-shirt, both old and stained with blood and sweat. I never did have a very nice wardrobe.

           I shrugged. “I was more focused on learning how to use my new limbs.”

           He rolled his eyes. “Well, luckily for you, I’m always prepared.” He pointed to the library at the right corner of his office. On the coffee table I could see a neatly folded bundle of clothes and a pair of shoes.

           “Get changed,” he ordered, “we got a lot to do today.”

           I quickly changed and checked myself out in a mirror. He had given me Hyperion branded high tops, black pants with the right leg cut off at the hip to show off my robot leg, a Hyperion branded tank top, a puffy, brown vest, and a black Hyperion branded beanie. There was also a belt with a hip holster and a Hyperion pistol.

           “Alright, I get it,” I grunted, “I work for Hyperion.”            “Actually you work exclusively for me,” Jack corrected.

           “Then why aren’t I decked out in Handsome Jack swag?”            “I could get you a mask if you want.”

           “Ew, no.”

           “Alright,” Jack boomed as he finished at his computer and stood up. “Let’s go, kitten.”

           “Where are we going?” I asked as I followed him out of the office.

           “I gotta introduce you to some people and fill you in on some stuff so you know what’s going on.” He smiled excitedly. “I got some big plans in the works, let me tell you.”            We entered the lobby where two people were waiting: Jack’s cyborg and the pale dude I met when I first arrived on Helios, Blake. He stood up diligently as Jack and I approached while the cyborg remained as still as a statue, as usual.

           “This is Jimmy Blake, my go-to guy,” Jack said.

         “It’s Jeffery, sir,” Blake said apathetically then looked at me. “But you will call me Mr. Blake.”

           “Fine. Then you can call me Mistress Skies,” I replied.        

           He curled his lip. “It’s a pleasure. You are in a positon many people would die for. It must be nice to have it all handed to you on a silver platter.”

           “It is nice,” I grinned, “thank you for asking.”            Blake looked even more disgusted while Jack just looked amused. He waved to the cyborg. “That’s Wilhelm, my right hand and other bodyguard. Say hi, Wilhelm.”

           “Hey,” he grunted in his robotic voice.

           “Always nice to see you,” I replied.

           “That’s all for Helios,” Jack said as he turned on his heel and walked away. “Nobody here is important enough for a formal meeting. Neither was Blake but you’ll be seeing him a lot so I wanted to get it out of the way.”

           “Where to now?” I asked as we approached the fast travel station.

           “Pandora,” he replied as he punched in some coordinates. “To meet my girlfriend.”

           My interest piqued slightly and I teleported after him.

           We appeared in some kind of building. It looked like the kitchen of a small house. The fast travel station was a small one, definitely not capable of teleporting to other locations. There were lots of bullet holes in the walls and casings littered the floor.

           “Your girlfriend lives on Pandora?” I questioned as I looked around. “I figured she’d be living it up on Helios or a mansion somewhere.”            “Not her style,” Jack shrugged, “she’s all about killed bandits, so I gave her a bandit town as an anniversary gift.”            “You couldn’t just give her flowers?” I mumbled then asked, “so what’s she like?”

           Before he could answer the front door opened and a woman dressed as a demented sheriff walked in, brandishing a large pistol. She grinned when she saw us. “Jack. I was just wanting to see you.”            “Heya, Nish,” Jack waved and pointed at me. “This is-.”

           “Don’t care,” she grunted as she grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him into another room.

           I rested my fist on my hip and stared at the closed door then looked around aimlessly. For lack of anything better to do, I went outside.

           I exited onto a wooden deck with a couple of chairs. There were glass bottles and bullet casings all over the ground.        

           I sat down on one of the chairs with my feet on the railing of the deck and drew my new pistol. By that point it had been a few weeks since I used a gun. Knives were always my favourite weapon of choice whenever possible. I made a mental note to find a nice knife and add a holster to my new uniform.

           I wielded the pistol in my left hand and aimed at nothing. I’m ambidextrous but after spending so much time training my new arm and laser cannon, I felt a little shaky.

           I spotted somebody walking down the dusty road in front of the house. He was definitely a bandit and it didn’t look like he noticed me yet.

           I aimed at him and fired. The bullet whizzed past his forehead.

           I scoffed with annoyance. Before I could get headshots no problem. I was definitely rusty.

           “Hey, you wanna die!” the bandit barked and pointed his shotgun at him. I stared at him apathetically and fired again. This time I got him in the shoulder. He cried and dropped to his knees, losing his gun. I shot again and successfully got a headshot.

           “Wasting bullets,” I muttered with disgust.

           I glanced up at the sound of doors opening and the street started filling with bandits. They chattered angrily as they saw the body and me with my gun.

           I sat up and reloaded my gun. Well, I did need shooting practice.

           For the next hour I worked on my aim, shooting bandits in the head. It didn’t take me long to get my rhythm back. Soon I was dropping them like flies with one shot each.

           Once the street was cleared, I smile satisfactorily and leant forward against the railing. I noticed one of the bottles had some liquid in it. I took a quick sniff before awarding myself a victory swig. Let me tell ya, Jack’s expensive brandy got nothing on rakk ale.

           As I dropped the empty bottle, the front door opened and the sheriff walked out. She had shed her big coat and boots and was only wearing jeans, a tight t-shirt, and her hat. She half glanced at me before looking at the bandit bodies that littered the street.

           “So you think you can just come into my town and kill my people?” she asked.

           I narrowed my eyes, not sure how to gauge the situation, but I replied nonetheless. “I used them for target practicing.”

           “Hm,” she grunted and looked at the bullet casings around my chair. “Looks like you needed a lot of practice.”

           “I won’t deny I was a little rusty,” I shrugged, “but most of these were already here.”

           She faced me, planting her hands on her hips. “You judging my aim? I’m the best shot on Pandora.”

           I smirked and rested my cheek against my gun. “Before I got here.”

           She narrowed her eyes and glared at me. I glared back. Then without warning, we drew our pistols and fired.

           The shots rang out and were quickly followed by a deafening silence. The sheriff’s hat drifted to the ground, a hole in the brim. Blood hit the wood by my feet.

           The sheriff chuckled and picked up her hat. “I like you.”            I smirked and wiped the blood from the scratch on my cheek. “Thanks. I like you too.”

           I gotta say, I had an immediate connection with Nisha. We had so much in common. We both loved killing people.

           While Jack slept in the bedroom, Nisha and I talked for an hour about our past exploits. She told me all about how she worked with other Vault Hunters to save Elpis and rise Jack to power and I told her some of my favourite mercenary stories. I was just in the middle of one when Jack finally woke up.

           “-so the guy opens the locker and sees me inside with his shotgun and I’m like, ‘lookin’ for this?’ And I shoot him in the face.”

           “That is so dumb,” Nisha laughed.

           “Shut up, it was not dumb,” I argued, “it was awesome. You should’ve seen the look on his face. You know, before I blew it to bits.”

           “The best part is the splatter,” she smiled and I nodded in agreement.

           “Ladies,” Jack greeted as he leaned against the table. He eyed the hole in Nisha’s hat and the cut on my cheek then smiled. “You two seem to be getting along.”

           “You picked a good one here, Jack,” Nisha said, pointing at me. “And I don’t say that often. If you’re not careful, I may steal her from you.”            “Damn, Nish, you’re gonna make me blush,” I grinned.

           Jack chuckled but I immediately sensed it was forced. Nisha must’ve sensed to because she smiled at him, amused. “Jealous?”

           “Hm,” he huffed and stepped away. “I only wanted to introduce the two of you. We’ve still got a lot to do today. Let’s go, Skies.”

           I shrugged and stood up. “Welp, duty calls.”

           “Call me sometime,” Nisha waved.

           “I sure will,” I waved back before teleporting after Jack. We appeared back in his lobby. Jack was standing with his back to me, hands on his hips.

           “Was that our only field trip?” I asked.

           “Not quite,” he replied.

           I watched him carefully. In those early days, I had a hard time reading Jack. At first I would think he really was annoyed of my connection with Nisha. Later I would realize that wasn’t the reason.

           “Alright,” he muttered and turned back to the fast travel station. He punched in coordinates and faced me. He looked very serious for the first time since I’ve known him and I perked up.            “I really don’t want you to know this person,” he said, “not even Nisha knows her. I figured I could tell you my plan without her. But she really wants to meet you. So consider yourself lucky.”

           I blinked, my interest piqued. He teleported away and I followed him, to meet this mysterious person.

[jtrahan]

Sea and Sparks

So you give the fortune teller all the coins in your purse, as well as the promise of your first-born child (ha, as if), and you walk home under a sky that looks like it's been playing with matches; and sure enough there is a stranger lounging against your garden gate, and he is tall and dark and—well, he's tall and dark anyway, and as it turns out he has great taste in turn-of-the-century pop-punk albums and knows this really cute little Mexican restaurant a couple towns over, and wouldn't you know it, one sensual poetry-reading montage later you've run away and gone to live on his pirate ship, which is really more of a salvage ship, since its main business is stripping the enormous alien derelicts sticking up out of the ocean for interesting looking parts; but your new beau pays his dues to the pirate guild anyway, which means that his crew gets to run up the Jolly Roger, and is officially licensed to sing all the really dirty sea shanties. You sail up and down the coast, scraping alien tech and getting into fights with other salvage crews and dancing with wild selkies under the summer moonlight, and all the while you can't help but notice that your lover is growing taller and darker by the day, to the point where he has to duck when walking under the rigging, and sleeps folded up in a cabin barely big enough to hold him. You are concerned by this, but don't really know how to bring it up, which is the first inkling you have that maybe this relationship is doomed.

And then, one day, your ship is attacked by a roving gang of mermaids, who come bursting out of the water riding side-saddle on sharks that snatch sailors up in their jaws as they leap across the deck. You rush for the harpoons, but then suddenly more mermaids come pouring over the sides, flopping onto the deck and flailing their eight arms and spewing ink from their mouths, and it's all getting to be a bit much; so in the interest of saving the ship you challenge the mermaid captain to single combat. Winner takes all.

The mermaid captain grins at you, exposing her many rows of teeth.

“I accept your challenge,” she says, in a voice like waves coming up past the flood line. “You want to pick the weapon or the place?”

“Weapon,” you say. “I choose swords.” You're pretty good at swords.

The mermaid captain nods, and in one smooth motion pulls you over the edge of the ship.

You sink, down and down into the dark. The last thing you see is the face of your tall dark lover, whose head stands at least fifteen feet above the deck by this point, looking down at you with a mixture of admiration and terrible sadness.

You would have expected to have trouble breathing, but something is happening on the sides of your neck: gills, splitting open your skin, drawing in seawater as comfortably as though they've always been there. Your feet hit some kind of bottom, and the descent stops. It's pretty murky down here, but a bunch of the mermaids are parting their hair to reveal lights, like angler fish, but in a whole multitude of pale pastel colors. Their captain swims over to a chest lodged deep in the muck and removes a pair of cutlasses. She hands you one and backs off a little, swishing her tail and holding her own cutlass at the ready.

“Hang on,” you say, “This isn't fair! I can't fight underwater!” This all comes out as an unintelligible rush of bubbles, but then the bubbles form themselves into the appropriate words like subtitles in front of your face. The mermaid captain rolls her eyes, but she also snaps her fingers, and another bubble appears, expanding very rapidly until it forms a kind of dome, pushing back the water on all sides and leaving you standing on a patch of solid ground. You're breathing air again, but your gills don't seem to mind.

The mermaid captain shoves her face through the side of the dome so that her head is sticking out into the open space. “Better?” she hisses; and now the rest of her is coming through, her tail splitting down the middle, peeling away into a pair of legs, scales sloughing away and being replaced with skin. You wonder if she's going to stop to put on pants, but okay, no, she definitely is not, and before you have a chance to contemplate all the new things you're learning about mermaid physiology she's raised her sword, and the duel is on. She's fast and strong, and you're forced to give ground quickly, scrambling backward to stay out of reach. A slash that goes over your head slices into the edge of the dome, spraying your hair with water, and the mermaids clustered just outside jeer and shove their arms through and push you back towards the center.

It's a near thing, but while the mermaid captain is really good at swords, you are just a little bit better at legs. As she missteps you lunge forward and just manage to nick the flesh of her forearm. The captain snarls and pulls back her sword to chop off your head, but before she can let the blow fly her entire body suddenly and explosively swells up like a pufferfish, with little spines all over the outside, bouncing slightly as the sword clatters to the ground.

The other mermaids are very annoyed, but there's nothing they can do but take you back. As your head breaks the surface you sputter and try to look around. It's been several hours. Your ship is nowhere to be seen.

The mermaids are drawing away. “Hang on,” you say, starting to panic, “You have to take me back to my ship! You have to--”

“Trolled!” shriek the mermaids, and they vanish in a flurry of flashing fins, making sure to splash water in your face as they go.

You manage to barter for transportation with a passing flock of seagulls, using the last gold coin you have hidden in the heel of your boot. The seagulls all grab on and lift you high into the air, face down, each of your outstretched arms and legs supported by its own contingent of seagulls. The head seagull has a tight grip on your right shoulder, and keeps announcing how many miles you have left on your tab in a high-pitched voice.

“TWENTY MILES REMAINING!” he squawks.

You tell him he doesn't have to keep doing that, but he keeps doing it anyway.

It's getting dark now, the sun settling down low into the ocean, and there are still no ships in sight. You're flying over a small chain of islands now, ones you don't recognize from any chart. There's an orange glow coming from one of them. Looks like an active volcano.

“LESS THAN ONE MILE REMAINING!” squawks the seagull. “PLEASE INCREASE YOUR FARE!”

“Okay,” you say, “Listen, I don't have any more money on me, but maybe we can work out some--”

“WE HOPE YOU HAVE HAD A PLEASANT JOURNEY,” shrieks the seagull, and he and all the other seagulls suddenly shoot off in all directions at once.

“What the fuck,” you say, but just then you become extremely occupied with the business of falling. There are trees rising up to meet you, and apparently it is an active volcano, because there goes the lip of it disappearing into the distance above you, and below you a terrible glow, and a great rush of heat--

And someone catches you. Someone with arms so warm they almost burn.

You look up, and the face looking down at you flows like magma into the shape of a smile. It glows the color of lava, half-liquid and fiercely bright, eyes burning cherry red.

“That was quite a fall,” it says, in a voice that seems to come from everywhere. “Are you all right? Can you stand?”

“I think so,” you say. The arms tilt sideways, and you step onto a glowing rock sticking up out of the lava. Your host stands a few feet away, very tall, with hair that flickers like flame, and a body in the shape of a man, but shifting, morphing slowly as you watch, like he's made out of heat haze itself.

“Apologies for the decor,” he says, gesturing around at the inside of the volcano. “I don't usually get many visitors down here. Sometimes the villagers take it into their heads to throw virgins in, because they think I'll help them with the harvest.” He chuckles softly to himself. “I keep telling them I have nothing to do with that, but they never listen.” He peers curiously at me. “You don't look like one of them, though.”

“Nope,” you say, “Definitely not a virgin.” This is maybe the dumbest thing you have ever said, but he laughs, and when he laughs the lava leaps up in geysers, fountains of light bursting in the volcano's heart.

You don't mean to stay as long as you do.

You don't really mean to stay at all. But the days turn into weeks, and the weeks to months, and he seems so gentle and kind; and eventually, despite having told yourself that you would never do this, not after what happened to your mother, you make the same mistake that must have been made a billion times over by now. Only it's not a mistake, not really, because even after the love has turned to anger, and you've stormed away in tears, the child is still with you, heavy and hot inside your body, kicking in the womb. He's delivered in a shack near the water by an old toothless selkie midwife who keeps lapsing back into seal speech and patting your shoulder while you curse her and sob and clutch at the edges of the bed.

You name him Odrin. It doesn't mean anything; you just like the way it sounds. His hands and his mouth leave marks on your skin, gray and mottled and ashy; but at night they glow softly in the dark.

You trade for seeds with some passing sailors and start a vegetable garden, and make a sling so you can start hunting seagulls. Odrin, once he's weaned, subsists mostly on hot coals plucked deftly from the fire where you cook your suppers. He learns to walk more quickly than most children, and learns to levitate soon after that, and is always zooming all around the house; only sometimes he becomes frightened, startled by things you can't see, and when that happens you can see his body start to shake itself into sparks, the smoke under his skin leaking out through the cracks, and you have to hold him until it passes. He's a good boy. The shack burns down, and you build another one with some help from the otters who live on the other side of the island. Your gills never really fade, but they do itch sometimes, until you go down and stick your head in the tide pool for a few minutes. Life, for a while, is good.

And then one day, as you and Odrin are sitting at the table shelling beans, a knock comes at the door.

You go over and open it, and lo and behold, it's the fortune teller from all those years ago, come back at last to collect her payment of your first-born son. She stands there, grinning and leaning on her staff, a tattered cloak drawn up around lanky gray hair.

“Odrin,” you say, not looking back, “Stay where you are.”

“I've come to collect what's mine,” says the fortune teller, trying to push past you into the house. “One first-born child, for services rendered. That was the arrangement.”

“You can't have him,” you say. “I'm sorry. We'll have to work something else out.”

“Silly girl,” says the fortune teller. She spits onto your lettuces. “I will have him.

“No,” you say.

The fortune teller glares at you and draws herself up to her full hunchbacked height.

“Get out of my way,” she says, “Or the consequences will be dire beyond your imagining.”

You tell her to fuck off, and she gets very angry and rants and raves and threatens to call her lawyers; but eventually she leaves, because she is an old woman and both of you know that you would have no compunctions about kicking her ass. You turn back towards the table, relieved but also a little worried about the lawyers, and see something that stops your heart.

A stream of sparks, the last ones already dancing out through the open window, vanishing into the spray of the waves.

Odrin. He got scared again, with all the yelling. He's shaken himself to pieces, and you weren't there to stop him.

You feel something sick rising up in your throat.

Okay, calm down. Calm down. There's still time to fix this, to put him back together before he drifts away and loses himself completely, but you need to hurry. Odrin will be gone now, rushing blindly over the sea in a panic, like only smoke and sparks can do. You're going to have to catch up.

You take some food and leave a note to the otters to watch the garden and run down and push your canoe out into the waves. It's getting dark now, and the lingering trail of sparks hanging over the water is fading fast. You paddle as hard as you can, until your muscles are screaming, but it's not enough, and the sparks are gone, the light is fading, and you're alone in uncharted ocean, low gray clouds rolling in, night coming down like a shroud.

You stop paddling.

The only sounds are the movement of water and your own ragged breath. Your arms are trembling. The spot on your neck where Odrin last rested his head is glowing dully, but its light is fading, fading along with everything else.

And then you see it, off the starboard bow. Something standing in the water, huge, framed like like a pillar against the stars.

Something tall and dark.

He hasn't stopped growing since the last time you saw him, as you were swept over the rail in the arms of a mermaid. The water comes up to his waist, breaking against him and leaving little trails of foam.

You stare up at him, at his face hanging high above you.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hello,” he says. His smile is warm and enormous. “I didn't expect to see you again.”

“Me neither,” you say. “Hey...I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he says.

“For how things ended, I guess,” you say. “I wanted to find you. I thought I was going to, at first. But...things happened...”

“You saved me from a pack of mermaids,” he says, smiling again. “You have nothing to be sorry about, I promise.”

You stay there a little longer, not saying anything. There really are an awful lot of stars out tonight. You can feel some of the strength returning to your arms.

“Listen,” you say, “I have to ask you something. I'm looking for my son; he might've come by here earlier. He looks—well, I'm not totally sure what he looks like right now, but--”

His enormous head is already nodding. “The boy with all the sparks?” he says. “I thought he looked familiar. He seemed to be in a hurry, though. I didn't like to pry.”

“He's just scared,” you say. “He's a good kid.” This is such an enormous understatement, not the right words at all, and you can feel tears prickling under your eyelids. “Please. I have to find him.”

He nods again. “I can show you the way,” he says, and he turns, causing a wave that sends your canoe rocking, and he opens his mouth. Light pours out of him, a solid beam of light cutting like an arrow through the darkness. He can't say anything with his mouth open, but you wave in acknowledgment, and he waves back. You pick up your paddle again, and somehow it doesn't seem so heavy now. It's like the light itself is filling you up, moving like blood through your aching muscles, giving you strength.

You paddle on, into the fog, into the darkness, following the light.

[ersorebelandor]

Shut Up And Dance

Summary: When Jyn and her father were on vacation, Jyn never expected that she’d find herself dancing again. And never wanting to leave something she hadn’t realised she needed - Cassian. 

Rating: Explicit

AO3

A/N: So, @senatorrorgana talked me into this. Yeah. It’s a dirty dancing AU. She’s a gem. Thank her for this. Also, I got asked by @myriadskies to be notified when I posted this....so here’s your notification. Enjoy xx

Jyn had loved going on vacation, but when her mother died and the strain between Saw and her father - Vacations were feeling a lot more like escapes from reality. And yes, that’s their purpose, but it was frustrating, they were avoiding their problems by going away. Jyn was tired, running felt natural, but she was eager to just sit still for one moment. Now, they were driving to a vacation spot out in nature somewhere, a place where walking with parents and playing tennis with strangers was the norm. Jyn just wanted some time to herself.

Stepping out of the car, she watched her father unpack the back of the car and she fixed up the laces around her boots. It was hotter than she expected it to be, but it was the middle of summer so she really shouldn’t have been surprised. Her black tank top was large and hung off her body, showing most of her sides with the gaps for her arms. Hair pinned back in the messy little bun and the torn up tan shorts, she was the picture perfect representation of a young adult ready for summer - and she was in the middle of god knows where.

When most of the guests were out meeting each other, Jyn stayed on the porch, sunglasses on, headphones in and reading a book. Knowing full well she looked irritated and unapproachable - Jyn stayed there, heels resting against the wooden railing and observing the rest of the guests when they came to her attention. When the afternoon was fading out and night was taking hold, a group of people walked past rooms, heading towards a little area Jyn had noticed only the staff walked to. Inside the group, one man stood out. Letting her glasses fall for a moment, she saw him glance to her - a wide, intoxicating and charming smirk on his lips before he turned back towards the group. Jyn sighed before going back to her book.

She felt guilty for her foul attitude, her father was in a bad place too but she acted as though it was only affecting her. Knowing she would have to change in order for this vacation to be their last for a while, Jyn had to make an effort, had to be better and make her father know it was going to be okay and that life could go back to what it once was. For now, Jyn still remained reading her book. Her father came back at one stage, going around their room and muttering to himself as he tried to find things.

“Have you been here all afternoon?” Galen’s voice called out from inside the room. Jyn kicked her feet off the railing, looking over her shoulder to see Galen buttoning up a dress shirt.

“Yeah.”

He huffed at her reply before standing next to her, hands on his hips. “We’re going to the dinner tonight,” he told her.

“What? Why?” she asked bluntly.

“Because you’ve been locked in here all day,” he complained. “Wear something nice tonight, Stardust,” he said, kissing the top of her head. Jyn sighed, setting her book down and resting her elbows on her knees.

“Yes, Papa,” she replied. Heading into the room, she took her suitcase to the bathroom with her. Fixing up her hair, she let it fall across her shoulders left it in loose waves. Rummaging through the case, she found a pale blue summer dress - one she knew she would have to wear at one point or another to look presentable. She hadn’t realised how early on she’d have to wear it. She placed it on, wearing some heels to match it, she walked out and smiled to her father. He smiled back, taking her underneath his arm, a small sign of affection.

Jyn and Galen walked into the little dancehall that the resort had set up, dining tables scattered around the dancefloor and a few of the guests getting up and dancing to the music. Galen was dragged to the dancefloor by an older lady and Jyn stayed at their spots, laughing as her father was forced to dance with her in a low stance. Picking at her dinner and her legs crossed, she was trying to enjoy herself but it felt like she was the only young person in a room full of the aging.

Looking up, Jyn saw a face that was a long memory ago, she barely even realised it was him. “Bodhi?” she asked and he turned. He turned to her and he smiled. The same, awkward and slightly dorky friend she had a few years ago at school. His hair was far longer now, as it needed to needed to be pulled back into a bun and he was much cleaner now as well - Jyn tossed that up to him half wearing one of the waiting uniforms.

“Jyn!” he called out, coming over to her table quickly. Jyn stood as he got there, and he picked her up easily, hugging her good and tight. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his hands on her hips and keep her at a distance. Jyn shrugged.

“Vacation,” he giggled and Bodhi shook his head.

“You two don’t stay still enough for it to be a vacation,” he laughed and Jyn bit her lip, shoving his shoulder playfully.

“You’re telling me,” she said. Bodhi looked over his shoulder, grabbing hold of Jyn’s hand and rushing them both off down some stairs.

“Hey, come on,” he said quietly as they started in the night and rushing towards a little light further off down the track.

“Where are we going?” she asked, the light becoming brighter and music ringing louder and louder.

“Somewhere fun,” he smiled over to her and Jyn smiled in turn, a natural effect Bodhi had.

Chasing off down the track, the music was loud but the people inside were louder; fun and happiness reigning across the small space. Bodhi got inside first, opening the door for her. Stepping across the threshold, the room felt electric and alive. The light was dimmed, a few scattered coloured lights hit the ceiling and illuminated the room. And in the middle of it all, a few staffers wandering around the room, they watched the other staffers dance; they were thrust up against one another, their bodies moving and seemed far more relaxed out of the eyes of the guests.

Bodhi laughed as he watched some of his friends dance, his head resting on Jyn’s shoulder and holding her slightly. It had been a long time since Jyn had a friend to be around - the closeness foreign but not unwelcome. Then, Jyn caught sight of the man she saw earlier in the day. His body was thrust up behind a woman, their hips moving in sync as they smiled and laughed with one another. He was ruggedly handsome, a trait she missed in the dark afternoon she saw him in.

Gorgeous and rugged - that was all she could really say about him. Messy dark hair, olive skin that glistened with sweat and stubble running harshly across his jaw and upper lip. In tight pants and his dark button down shirt slightly open, he was looking gorgeous and for some reason, Jyn hated him for it. Why on God’s green earth would this guy be allowed to walk around, to even be allowed to dance like that and still be fucking gorgeous? It wasn’t fair.

“Who’s the guy?” Jyn asked over her shoulder. Bodhi came around to her side, watching her eye and knew who she was talking about.

“Cassian Andor. He’s a big deal around here,” he replied.

“Why?” she asked again, the music starting to get louder as the dancing started to get heavier with technique and measure.

“Watch him,” he told her. Jyn watched the way he could find the beat, hit it with his partner and make everything look effortless in the process. “Dance instructor and the women go nuts over him,” Bodhi chuckled and Jyn concealed the bite to her lip. She watched his feet and his hips, the moving of which made her feel like she could do it too.

“Well, I get it,” she muttered, her foot tapping to the beat and when she felt Bodhi’s hip knock against hers, it was obvious that he could see what she was thinking.

“Show him what you got,” Bodhi said and Jyn stopped tapping her foot then.

“What?”

“You’re a dancer,” he reminded her. Being trained in dance was something she used to like talking about, the fact that she could take to most dance routines easily and have her partners working easily with her was a gift; but it became almost like an extravagance once her mother died. She would rarely dance anymore - the idea of it alone being ridiculous and pointless.

“A long time ago,” she remarked, watching the other dancers.

“A year, Jyn. You were still dancing a year ago,” Bodhi reminded her once more. She shrugged at the idea.

“I don’t know if i can keep up with what he’s got,” she smiled, and Bodhi held her at arm’s length, smiling to her with a wide and goofy grin.

“I’ve seen you dance. You can match him,” he said with a wink before he called over to Cassian. He stopped dancing, kissing at his partner’s cheek before leading them both to Bodhi. They hugged each other briefly before Bodhi hugged Cassian’s partner.

“Who’s this?” Cassian asked.

“Jyn,” Bodhi started. “She’s a guest.”

“We’re letting guests in here now?” he scoffed. Jyn bit her tongue before replying sharply.

“Just a friend of Bodhi’s,” she replied, looking around the room as to avoid looking at him; he may end up pissing her off and she wasn’t in the mood to get irritated the first night at the resort.

“So, do you wanna dance? Or can’t you?” he asked spitefully. Jyn crossed her arms and scowled at him.

“I dance. Sometimes,” she shrugged. Cassian’s hand reached to her, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her towards him.

“Come on,” he urged, taking them to the middle of the  “Stop being afraid,” he whispered and Jyn took in a long breath as Cassian’s hands slid over her body, tracing her curves with cautious fingers.

Jyn had Cassian pressed up against her, his hand on the small of her back as their hips were pinned and swaying to the sound of the modern music playing. Jyn knew it was that new Little Mix song - something about touch - but she never quite cared for it. Jyn’s arms went over Cassian’s shoulders, both smiling as their hips hit the harder beats. Then, Cassian started to move around Jyn, his hand running over her hip to her stomach as he moved behind her. Jyn reached around the back of her neck to find the side of his.

Cassian’s other hand ran up her thigh, running her dress up slightly as they were started to grind lightly against each other - hips circling. The beat hit and Jyn let her hand find the side of Cassian’s thigh, running up as their bodies were moving more in sync then before. As the beat dropped, Jyn dropped, her leg out to the side. Cassian took hold of her hand, spinning her like a top before pulling her up from the ground again. She was pulled straight into his hold, then they started to tango - Jyn was a little rusty, so she was falling behind when Cassian would lead them quicker.

They found their rhythm, Cassian spinning and dipping Jyn to his whim and her following easily. She would fling her body into his hold, hike up her leg and have his hand run over her thigh before he pushed it down and had her down on the floor - almost begging at his feet. He would spin her around, pull her up again and they’d be right back to where they were meant to be; bodies pressed together and dancing in sync like Jyn had never experienced before. Cassian and Jyn smiled and had moments of intimacy throughout the entire dance, eyes barely parting.

The song finished, Cassian dipping Jyn down before flinging her up again to have her wrapped up on his body, arms clinging to him and leg hiked slightly. Jyn and Cassian were both panting, then they fell apart - Jyn’s arms dropping from his shoulders and her leg planting back on the ground. They moved away, almost as though being too close after that was going to torture them.

“That was fun,” Jyn breathed out. She tucked hair behind her ear, realising that her hair was going to be insanely messed up now.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Cassian smirked. Jyn fixed up her dress, going to Bodhi’s side - she wasn’t embarrassed or bashful - more so, she wasn’t sure how to maintain a steady breath or heart rate with him staring at her. “See you around, Jyn,” he called out to her. She smiled before she asked Bodhi if she could leave. He nodded and she went back to the dancehall, seeing her father leave as she arrived.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his arm going around her shoulder.

“Making friends,” she replied and Galen laughed.

“That’s a first.”