#seriously though ive been grinning for thirty minutes

[atlabeth]

transferred part 17 - atla smau

part 16 | masterlist | part 18 

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know he’s falling for you as well. 

a/n: ahahah a ??? im sorry?? that this took so long?? as you know ive been dying of school and exams and even though ive gotten a couple oneshots out and did my celebration i just have not had the energy to write a whole mf chapter. but it’s here ! after a month of waiting

wc: 4.8k she is a LONG ONE FOLKS prepare yourselves

warning(s): cursing, alcohol and getting drunk, toxic relationships, mentions of cheating, implied emotional abuse, y/n having a breakdown, just an overall mess 

-

“Katara, don’t pull so hard!” You exclaimed, reaching a hand up to touch your scalp. You had entrusted your sister with styling your hair for the party tonight, but only after insistent nagging on her part. She had invited — or forced, as you liked to call it — you over to their dorm to get ready for the party that night together and do all kinds of girl talk. You figured this was a trap to get you to talk about you and Zuko, but it’s not like you would deny an opportunity to hang out with some of your favorite girls. 

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “Just think of it as retribution for all the times that you pulled my hair like this when you did my braids.” 

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and glanced over at Toph and Suki who had already gotten ready but still lounging around the dorm to hang out. “So.” 

“So?” Suki repeated. 

“So when are the questions going to start?” You asked with a small laugh. “I appreciate the invite over here to get ready, but I know you all just wanted to ask me about what’s going with Zuko. So ask away.”

“What happened during that car ride—”

“Has he said anything to you since the kiss—”

“What’s going on at the tea shop—”

“Woah, woah! One question at a time!” you interrupted as they all started going on at the same time. “First off, nothing happened during the car ride. We worked out some miscommunications, and we’re all good. Second — yes, we’ve talked since the kiss, but there’s been nothing groundbreaking. And third, the only thing going on at the tea shop is the tea that we’re serving.”

Toph groaned and shook her head. “Are you serious? That’s so boring!”

“You’re telling me that nothing has happened in the couple of weeks since the kiss? Like, are you sure you’re not in a secret relationship with him and just neglecting to tell us?” Katara asked.

“There’s nothing going on,” you insisted. “As much as I want something to go on, I… haven't’ really said anything either.”

“What?” Suki cried. “You are crazy for him, how have you not tried to make something out of this yet?!”

“I don’t know!” you shot back defensively. “I guess I’m just scared that everything will go wrong.”

“Look,” Suki began as she took a seat on the floor in front of you. “You are kind, funny, gorgeous as hell, and an all around amazing person — and Zuko has it just as bad for you as you do for him! So embrace all of that, get out there tonight, and make a move!”

It had been too long since you had gotten a pep talk from Suki, and it was strangely refreshing. You nodded and sat up. “You know, you’re right! I have just… I’ve been sitting around, waiting for him to make a move because I’m too scared of getting rejected. But I am a delight! I am a lovely person, and I am a delight. Besides, we’re both adults! Even if he doesn’t like me the same way I do—”

“Which he does,” Toph interrupted, which earned her a joking glare.

“Even if he doesn’t like me the same way I do,” you repeated. “We’re still going to be friends. It’ll just be a couple awkward weeks, and then we’ll be back to normal.”

“That’s as close to the spirit as we’re gonna get!” Katara exclaimed as she gave you a high-five.

“It’s about time,” Toph joked as she hit you on the shoulder. “Now, are you gonna get ready or what?”

“Right,” you chuckled. “I did get this super cute dress a while ago that I haven’t gotten a chance to wear. I think it’ll be perfect for tonight.”

“What are you waiting for, girl?” Suki asked. “Show us!”

After showing off your dress, you had finished up the final touches of your makeup and gotten one last pep talk from all of your girls — you were feeling more confident than ever, and you were sure that tonight was the night you would tell Zuko how you felt.

-

Back at the apartment, the boys were going through a similar dilemma.

“Zuko, what are you so scared about?” Sokka was hanging upside down off of the couch, a move he must’ve picked up from his sister, as he questioned his friend.

“I don’t know, everything? She could reject me, she could start to hate me, I could ruin everything that we’ve built over the past few months— you know, it’s not even that bad, what we have right now! What’s the harm in just staying like this?”

“Zuko,” Aang groaned. “I get being cautious, but this is just too much! You’re letting your fears get in the way of you and Y/N being happy. You kissed her, right? And she kissed you back! I’m telling you, if you let her know how you feel tonight then everything will work out. Trust me!”

“Seriously, buddy — it’s just painful at this point. It’ll be kinda weird having one of my friends date my sister again, but somehow, you two being apart is worse. Just tell her already!”

“Okay!” Zuko exclaimed defensively. He finished doing his hair then ran his fingers through it, ruining his work completely. When Sokka gave him a weird look, he shrugged and smiled to himself a bit. “Y/N likes it this way.”

Sokka gestured at him in disbelief and shook his head. “This is exactly what I mean!”

“Okay!” he repeated. Zuko leaned against the kitchen island and nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell her how I feel tonight. After she’s gotten into the party a little, I’ll take her outside and I’ll tell her how I feel.”

“And then you’ll kiss and it’ll be happily ever after!” Aang crooned.

Sokka rolled off of the sofa and stood up, then picked up the car keys from the table. “Someone text the girls, because we’re leaving. I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“You’re gonna do great tonight, Zuko,” Aang reassured as he gave Zuko a pat on the back. “Just remember why you like her in the first place, and speak from the heart. She likes you, so as long as you’re you, things will go great.”

Zuko nodded and gave Aang a small smile. “Thanks. I hope you’re right.”

As the two of them followed Sokka out of the apartment, he took another deep breath and tried to psych himself up. He was sure that tonight was the night he would tell you how he felt.

-

The seven of you regrouped with each other where you would be spending the rest of the night — because a ton of students were expected to celebrate the end of the first semester, the party was being hosted in a warehouse that a couple of kids had rented out for the night. It was more extravagant than the first party you went to in every way — you could hear the music thumping from all the way down the street as you got out of the car.

“Do you think we beat them here?” Suki asked as she helped Toph out. Katara locked the car and looked around, shaking her head as she pointed down the street. Sokka, Aang, and Zuko were all walking up together, having parked a couple cars down.

“They beat us by a minute. Probably broke a hundred different traffic laws in the process.”

“You guys made it!” Aang exclaimed as he gave Katara a kiss on the cheek. “Sokka forced Zuko to let him drive here, said he’s too slow and that he wanted to beat you all.”

“Sounds like him,” Suki joked as she took Sokka’s hand. “You ready, Big Shot?”

“I’m always ready,” he grinned, earning a laugh from you and Katara. Your eyes fell on Zuko as he walked up and you smiled, already starting to feel your cheeks heating up.

“Wow, Y/N, you look…”

“Amazing?” you guessed coyly.

“Breathtaking,” he clarified, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his lips. You laughed and looped your arm through his, and the two of you began making your way towards the party.

The rest of the group shot each other looks that ranged from overjoyed to bewildered to confused. As they started to follow you, they realized that getting the two of you together might be easier than they thought.

-

It wasn’t hard to get into the spirit of the night once you got into the party. There had to be at least a couple hundred people there, but it didn’t take long for everyone to start breaking off into groups. Suki had roped you in karaoke while Aang had taken Zuko to meet some of his friends, giving Sokka, Katara, and Toph time to strategize before setting the plan in motion.

“Okay!” Katara shouted so she could be heard over all the noise. “I don’t think we’re actually gonna have to do that much tonight! Just.. keep him busy for a while and then give him an out, and we’ll do the same with Y/N!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the whole plan. I made it up, remember?” Sokka wasn’t completely focused on the conversation at hand as his eyes darted around the scene, seemingly searching for something. His eyes suddenly lit up and he started to back away from their small group. “There he is! Sorry Katara, gotta go prove to a bunch of freshmen that they don’t know anything and I’m better than them. Aang can handle Zuko!” He grinned at her then ran off into the crowd before Katara could protest.

She sighed and turned to Toph. “Suki’s got Y/N occupied and Aang’s got Zuko, so it looks like it’s just you and me, Beifong. Whaddya wanna do?”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to see your sister embarrass herself with karaoke?” Toph asked.

Katara laughed and grabbed Toph’s hand as she started to lead them through the crowd. “You know what? That sounds perfect. After all the work we’ve done for her and Zuko, I think I deserve to laugh at her for a while.”

-

The first two hours of the party passed by quickly. You spent the first thirty minutes making a fool of yourself with Suki as you sang a couple classics on karaoke — though it was a bit humiliating, you had an amazing time. The second half of the hour went to the beer pong competition that Sokka’s friend Zhen had organized (they did end up winning, so you supposed his pride was well earned), and the next hour was dedicated to dancing, drinking, and letting loose. You had finished the first semester of your masters program, so you felt like you deserved it.

You had stolen away to an emptier corner to give yourself a breather as well as some alone time — you were enjoying yourself, but it was close to claustrophobic in the heat of it all. You were passing the time on your phone when you heard a familiar voice call your name. Your eyes immediately shot up as you tucked your phone into your purse, and you were met with your favorite pair of golden eyes.

“Hey,” Zuko breathed, taking a second to straighten his ruffled clothes. You couldn’t help the smile that played on your lips as you ran a hand through his hair to muss it up even further.

“Hey yourself,” you laughed. “What’s so important that you had to run all the way over here?”

“I have something I need to tell you. It actually is really important, but I think it’d go over better if we weren’t in the middle of all this chaos.”

You would be lying if you said that didn’t make your heart beat a little faster, and as you felt your cheeks heat up you realized that this was your chance. “Uh, yeah. Sure, totally— I actually have something I need to tell you, so that’s perfect!”

“Really?”

“Guess we’re just in tune.”

Zuko smiled as he took your hand and started to lead you through the crowd, but when you heard someone calling your name you froze. The blood in your veins turned to ice, and your grip on Zuko’s hand tightened. He shot you a questioning look but you didn’t even see it.

“No,” you muttered, barely legible. “No, not here.”

You almost didn’t want to turn around to confirm your suspicions. You could’ve ignored it, pretended like you didn’t hear it over the sounds of the party, but there was a voice nagging in your head that you couldn’t just ignore it, you had to find out if he was really, truly here — so you did.

You wanted nothing more to be wrong in that moment — honestly, you thought that you were hallucinating at first. You hadn’t had that much to drink, but maybe the alcohol combined with the sleep deprivation was making you see things. Unfortunately, it was real. You could never forget those eyes.

“Hahn,” you mumbled, the sight taking a moment to register. “Hahn, what the hell are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m here to party, and I’m here to see you.” The grin on his face didn’t waver as he looked you up and down, choosing to ignore the blatant shock on your face.

“You are not here to see me,” you clarified coolly. “We’re not together anymore, and ex-boyfriends don’t make hour-long drives to see their ex-girlfriends, especially ex-girlfriends that they treated like trash.”

“I figured you’d be more happy to see me than this,” he huffed. “Ungrateful as usual.” Hahn seemed to finally notice Zuko and scoffed as he looked at him. “What, is he your new boyfriend? You really downgraded.”

“You have no right to talk to her like that—” Zuko stepped forward to say more but you held out your hand to stop him. You gave him a short nod and stepped forward yourself.

“Hahn, I’m going to ask you one more time.” You could feel your hands shaking, whether it was from rage or fear you didn’t know. Your voice was deadly calm, but it was taking all of your energy to stay that way. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Hahn laughed and crossed his arms. “You’re joking right?” His amusement was a notion that you didn’t share, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably before he continued. “You wouldn’t answer my texts, and you obviously still want me after the things you sent me. My brother had a game here and I came along to see him, so I figured I would pay you a visit as well. You never really officially broke up with me, y’know. Are you really going to let three years go down the drain because of one little incident?”

Now it was your turn to laugh — it was from pure disbelief rather than amusement, though. “Are you serious? Hahn, I left you! I walked out, I moved out, I transferred universities to get away from you! Are you really so dense that you still think you stand a chance based off of some drunk texts?”

“Woah, you think you’re giving me a chance? Y/N/N, this is my olive branch to you — I messed up, I know I did, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fix things up! I could have any girl I wanted back at Kyoshi, but I’m here because I want you — I love you, babe. You know I do.”

“You don’t get to call her ‘babe’,” Zuko snapped. “She doesn’t want you here, so why don’t you just save yourself some trouble and get out of here?”

Hahn snorted and shook his head. “Stay out of this, fireboy. Y/N’s a big girl, she can speak for herself.”

You looked around and saw that a modest crowd was forming around the three of you, and more than a few people were filming. If you didn’t want your relationship problems to become BSSU news, you had to defuse this as soon as possible.

“Listen,” you interrupted. “Zuko’s right, Hahn. It was a mistake to come here — if you’re as smart as you always say, then you would know that. Just.. go home.”

Hahn scoffed as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “No, you listen. I’m trying to do you a favor here, Y/N! I made one mistake, and apparently that was enough to ruin everything we had.”

“You know just as well as I do that it wasn’t one mistake!” you cried. “If you can really get any other girl you want, then do it! I mean, that wasn’t a problem for you during our relationship, so I don’t see why it’s a problem now. We’re not getting back together, so just stop!”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he sneered as he gave Zuko another onceover. “He’s the reason you’re acting like this. I never thought that you would sink so low, but you’ve clearly gone soft. Come on, stop acting like a baby and we can talk this out alone.”

He started to reach for your hand but you pulled it back, and before you knew what you were doing, you had handed your drink to Zuko and your fist was flying right at Hahn’s face. It hurt like hell, but the pure satisfaction from seeing his shock as he recoiled was a painkiller on its own.

“How’s that for soft?” you spat as you rubbed your injured knuckles.

“You.. you bitch!” he yelled, staggering back a few feet as he put his hand over his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “This is how you repay me after everything? You should be thankful I’m giving you another chance—” he started to reach for you again, but you slapped his hand away. You cast a glance back at Zuko and saw that he had been joined by Sokka and Katara, and knowing that they were with you made all the difference.

“I don’t want another chance!” you shouted. “You are the one that fucked up, you are the one that made my life hell, and you are not the one that gets to give out second chances! I gave you so many chances, and you messed up every single one! Hahn, I never want to see you again. And if you ever try something like this again, if you ever even try and talk to me again, I will do something so much worse. Now do the smart thing and get out!”

You gave him one hard shove to the chest then turned on your heel and ran. It was the coward’s move, you knew it was, but you couldn’t be there anymore. Tears blurred your vision as you pushed through the crowd to get to the back door, heaving shaky breaths once you finally made it outside. You could hear familiar voices yelling and felt the slightest tinge of joy knowing that your younger siblings were giving Hahn hell.

You leaned against the side of the building, pressing the heels of your hands against your forehead to try and stop yourself from having a full on breakdown. You started to count backwards from twenty in your head as your eyes scanned the area for something, anything, to ground you. It helped in the sense that you weren’t about to lose it right then and there, but you were still on the brink. You slid down the wall into a sitting position and hugged your knees to your chest, the tears finally falling.

This was your university, this was your night, this was for you to make new memories and end your first semester, but like everything else he had come in and ruined it. You had no idea how he even found you, how he knew you would even be here, but it scared you.

“Should’ve blocked you as soon as you… fucking asshole… can’t believe..” you mumbled incoherently as you pulled your phone out with shaky hands, blocking and deleting his number. You dropped your phone in your lap and then put your head in your hands, still trying to process everything that happened. You didn’t even look up when you heard someone coming outside, but somehow you immediately knew who it was.

“Hey, Y/N.. Are you.. okay?” Zuko’s voice was full of sympathy but also caution, as if you were a delicate flower you didn’t want to tear.

“Do I look okay, Zuko?” Your words came out much more aggressive than you wanted them to, and you bit your lip. You had always expected his kindness to be a double-edged sword, something he used just to get something from you, but it never was. Not even once. It made sense after what he told you, and it just made him an even better person in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just.. not. Not in the slightest. Hahn was the last person I expected to see tonight.”

Zuko moved over and sat down against the wall with you then hovered his hand above yours, giving you a chance to pull away. When you didn’t move, he set his hand on yours, filling you with the comforting warmth that you missed.

“You don’t need to apologize. What he did was fucked up.” He cracked a small smile. “Punching him was pretty badass though.”

You wiped a tear away and let out a soft laugh. “It was about time I stood up for myself. Our whole relationship was built off of this sick power dynamic that he loved to wield over me. Things were fine for the first few months, of course. He had this douchebag reputation on campus, but I believed that I could change him, that I could be the one to make him settle down, and— and it felt like I had at first! He was the sweetest guy, and he always brought me things and took me out on dates and it was just- it was just a dream. But I should’ve known he was using me. He had never changed, he had just gotten better at hiding those parts of himself.”

“I had zero sense of self worth and he used that. Told me that if I broke up with him I would never find anyone better, always convincing me that I was the one in the wrong, that if I wasn’t so dramatic then we wouldn’t have all these arguments. And the worst thing about it? I believed him. I believed him every time.” Your voice cracked on your last sentence and you could feel yourself getting choked up again. You swallowed hard and tried your best to push your emotions back down. “I was so terrified that he was right, that I would end up alone if I broke up with him, that I stayed. And that was our relationship for the past three years — built off of fear and manipulation.”

“A lot of people wonder why I transferred here. Sure, I did it for my masters, but Kyoshi has a perfectly fine program. I had already established my life there, I had an apartment, lots of friends, and yeah, I was going to go through with it. I was going to get my masters back there, but I… I did it because of him. I left because of Hahn.”

“Y/N. What did he do?” There was a dangerous undertone to his words, and you placed your intertwined hands on his knee. You didn’t want him to do something he would regret, and more selfishly, you needed him here right now.

You closed your eyes and let the question hang in the air for a moment. You hadn’t told anyone the truth of how your relationship ended with Hahn, and this wasn’t how you had pictured telling Zuko. If you were being honest, you didn’t think you would ever tell him — but he deserved to know.

“He cheated.” You said the words so easily, so simply that you almost shocked yourself. It shocked Zuko too; you could see his eyes widen slightly from your peripherals.

“Yeah. He cheated on me. That’s how things ended. After everything I put into that relationship, everything I did for him, everything he took from me… I still wasn’t enough for him. I got home from class one day to find him in bed with another girl, and… that was it. Something inside me just snapped. That was my moment of clarity — no yelling, no crying, no… anything. I just left. A friend let me crash at her place, and that night I started the process of transferring here. I made a promise to myself that I would never let someone like Hahn in again, and… well, now we’re here.” You laughed humorlessly and wiped a tear from your eye.

It was like the breath had been stolen from Zuko’s chest. He had never fully understood why you were so reluctant to open up to people, but this explained it. You weren’t someone who gave out love freely, but you had to Hahn — and the way he had treated that love made him sick. He had ingrained in you the ideal that you couldn’t be loved, only tolerated, and that was why you had such a hard time accepting help from anyone. The thought alone made him want to find Hahn and get him back for everything he had done to you. The only thing stopping him was that he didn’t want to leave you alone.

“Y/N,” he muttered. “I had no idea. Katara and Sokka didn’t even know.. Why did you hold all of this in?”

“Because I was scared, Zuko! I got myself into this mess with a stupid boy that everyone had warned me about, so I felt like I had to get myself out. Even when things took a turn for the worse, I felt like I couldn’t involve anyone else because it was my fault. It was my fault for trusting someone like him, it was my fault for believing all of his lies, it was my fault for not being good enough. And even after everything he did to me, a part of me still missed him.” You let out a laugh that was a touch unhinged. “There’s something seriously wrong with me.”

“Y/N, look at me.” You tore your eyes up from the ground and at Zuko — his golden irises looked the same as the first time you met him and it was oddly comforting.

“There is nothing wrong with you. Okay? And I know it’s easier said than done, believe me, I know, but you don’t need to be scared. I understand why you were so hesitant to share what happened with Hahn, but you don’t need to be. I don’t know how much weight my words have, but I want you to know that you can always tell me what is happening with you. Whether it’s a life changing event or just what you did that morning, I’ll listen to you. You aren’t alone, Y/N, because I’m here for you. I always will be.”

Your eyes widened with surprise as you stared into his own. This was the most sincere you had ever seen Zuko, even more than the night he told you about his life. There was a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to kiss him, feel that warmth again, forget about what had happened for just a moment.

But as the familiar prick of incoming tears returned, you knew you couldn’t. You were drunk, on the verge of a complete breakdown, and anything that happened between you tonight would be tainted with the memory of Hahn. So with a concentrated effort, you tore your eyes away from his and swallowed, your throat dry and scratchy from the screaming match you had gotten yourself into.

“I don’t think I can spend another minute here. I hate to ask, but.. can you take me home?” you asked quietly. “You might not be able to tell, but I’m not in a state to do anything right now.”

“Of course.” You gave his hand another squeeze to let him know that he hadn’t overstepped, and stood up. The two of you began the walk back to the car and Zuko let go of your hand, shifting so that he could instead wrap his arm around your back. You smiled softly and leaned your head against his shoulder, the gesture a welcome comfort.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He squeezed your shoulder softly in response, a silent notion that said everything he couldn’t.

Tonight had been a wreck, that much was certain. Your past had resurged in the most painful way possible, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to get through it alone.

But you weren’t alone this time. You had Zuko.

And with Zuko by your side… you knew you would be okay.

-

perm taglist: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin

transferred: @ourbestfriend-mishacollins @lil-lex1 @xxshad0wxb1rdxx @zuko-is-the-sun @akiris @irohs-teapot @thatarthistorynerd @charlenasaxen @minninugget @marvel-ousnesss @count-thotticus @what-ye-egg @furblrwurblr @thesstuff @mariachiii @ietss @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @xbarrjallenx @tommy-braccoli @dreamsluvrr @floofybread @thelovelylolly @lin-biefong-is-my-life @tiffanyy-21 @sistheselenophile @theincredibledeadlyviper @bakugouswh0r3 @loganrwebb @mikaslilworld @matsunshine @iris-suoh @aizameow @h3llbun 

atla: @marianne1806

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 1

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: You begin your intern year at Avengers Medical Center

You let out a little groan as you turned around. You immediately knew you were naked as the cold wood floor sent chills down your bare body. Slowly opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. You were home, in the house you had just inherited, boxes still pilled high around the living room you were laying in. Suddenly, someone else groaned beside you. You teased, clenching your eyes shut. The headache you had been ignoring since you woke finally broke free and you realized that your late night drunkenness must have caused you to bring a guy home.

You let out a long breath as you reopened your eyes and looked over at the hopefully-still-asleep man beside you. He wasn’t bad looking at all. You had really done well. He was blonde with a chiseled body. He had to have been at least six foot, which didn’t hurt. He was naked though, all out in the open on your living room floor. Cringing, you sat up, pulling one blanket from the couch to quickly cover yourself before standing and pulling one over him. You stood up silently, and began making your way out of the room. It was your first day of your intern year as a doctor, you couldn’t afford to be late.

You successfully made it to the doorway of the living room without a sound before the floorboard beneath you creaked. You should there, frozen, closing your eyes in hopes that the man sleeping behind you wouldn’t wake. You could hear him turn over, letting a small moan out of his mouth. Waiting a few more seconds, you started going again.

“You know…” the man started, clearly in his morning voice, “it’s usually rude to disappear on someone after spending a night with them.”

You quickly spun around to see him, still laying on his stomach, looking up at you with a sly grin.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “it’s my house, so it’s not that rude.”

He stood up, not grabbing the blanket as quick as he should have, letting you have another look at him. When you met his eyes again, it was clear that you had been caught staring and that he was enjoying it.

“Why the rush to silently get out of here?” He asked, tucking the blanket around his waist. “Have a husband or a boyfriend you have to hurry and get ready for?”

“Neither,” you responded, tightening your hold on the blanket covering you. “I’m running late for my first day of work. So, if we’re done here, you should go.”

“We don’t have to be done here.”

“I think we do.” You kicked up his shirt, grabbing it, and throwing him at it. “You need to go.” He caught his shirt, slipping it on slowly over his clear cut abs. “So, um, goodbye… um…”

“Steve,” he reached his hand out.

“Steve. Right,” you shook his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He smiled. It almost took your breath away, but you couldn’t let it show.

“Yeah.”

“Nice meeting you.”

“Yeah. Bye, Steve.”

You fled up the stairs, hoping that by the time you were done getting ready, Steve would be gone.

~~~

You made it to the Avengers Medical Center just in time to meet up with the other interns in your year. The Chief of Surgery, Dr. Nicholas J. Fury, was leading a small tour to the ORs. He started talking as the interns took in the OR.

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors,” Fury stated. “The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you.”

He then told each of the interns which resident they were assigned to. You got Dr. Gamora. All of the interns were then taken to the locker room, where each of you were assigned a locker and given scrubs to change into and start your long day.

“Only ten women out of thirty,” you muttered as you slipped your scrubs on.

“Yeah,” the woman with fiery red hair next to you responded. “I heard that one of them was a model. Seriously, like that’s going to help with the respect thing?”

“You’re Natasha, right?”

She nodded. “You’re Y/N?”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Gamora.”

“Me too.”

“You got Gamora?” A male intern repeated beside you. “So did I. At least we’ll all be tortured together, right? I’m Clint Barton, uh, we met at the mixer. You had a dress with a slit up the side, those shiny heels…” You and Natasha exchanged looks. “Now you think I’m gay.”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha hummed, heading out the door.

“No, I’m not gay! It’s, ah, it’s just that, you know, you were, I mean… You were very unforgettable,” Clint rambled as you both followed after Natasha. You shot him a sympathetic smile before hurrying to catch up with Natasha. “And I’m totally forgettable.”

“Barton, L/N, Romanoff, Valkyrie, Lang,” a doctor called at the door way.

“Gamora?” Natasha questioned that doctor that called you.

“End of the hall.”

The five of you that were called began walking. At the end of the hall, you saw a pretty woman working on paperwork. She didn’t look as threatening as you had heard she was.

“That’s Dr. Gamora?” Natasha wondered.

“From what I heard, I thought she’d look scarier,” the other male in your group of five said. You guessed it was Scott Lang.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “I thought she’d be… well, bigger.”

“Same,” you added.

“Maybe it’s professional jealousy,” a woman in your group suggested, Valkyrie, you presumed. “Maybe she’s brilliant, and they say things about her because they’re jealous. Maybe she’s really nice.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re the model,” Natasha said.

“Wait…” Clint said, looking at Nat. “I thought you were the model.”

Valkyrie shot Natasha a look before turning to Dr. Gamora with an extended hand. “Hi, I’m Valkyrie, but everyone calls me Val.”

Gamora looked her up and down, not even moving to shake Val’s hand. “I have five rules,” Gamora stated, clearly unimpressed already. “Rule number one, don’t bother sucking up, I already hate all of you, that’s not gonna change.” She turned and pointed to things on the counter. “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours.” 

Gamora began walking away with you and the others quickly following, after each of you have grabbed the things off the counter. 

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don’t complain!” She continued. Gamora led you to a door, opening it to reveal a room with bunk beds. “On call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?” There was a brief pause before you nervously raised your hand. “Yes.”

“You said five rules,” you tried to hold back a cringe as you spoke up. “That was only four.”

Suddenly, Gamora’s pager beeped. “Rule number five. When I move, you move.” She ran down the corridor, followed by you and the other interns. “Get out of my way!” She yelled at a few doctor’s blocking the hallway.

You had the others followed Gamora to the ER. There was a bustling trauma room that the six of you entered. There was a young female on the stretcher, already being hooked to the machines.

“What’ve we got?” Gamora asked.

“Savannah Chase, fifteen year old female,” the paramedic still in the room stated. “New onset seizures, intermittent for the past week. ID lost en route. Started gran mal seizing when the ambulance pulled up.”

“Alright, get her on her side, Val, ten milligrams Diazepam.” Val started to do as she was directed while the rest of you watched. “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large bore IV. Don’t let the blood haemolyse, let’s go!”

Val injected the young woman with the diazepam and she stopped seizing. A new Doctor entered the room.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” The man asked.

“Absolutely Dr. Banner,” Gamora responded.

“Dr. Gamora, I’m gonna shotgun her.”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem seven, a tox screen,” Gamora clarified for the interns. “Natasha, you’re on labs, Clint, patient workups, Y/N, get Savannah for a CT, she’s your responsibility now.” Gamora began to walk away.

“Wait,” both Val and Lang called out. Gamora turned back around.

“What about us?” Val asked.

“You two—honey, you get to do rectal exams.”

~~~

You were currently in an elevator with Savannah, the patient, trying to find your way to CT. Since it was your first day at the medical center, you didn’t know where anything was and you were too stubborn to ask.

“You’re lost,” Savannah stated.

“I’m not lost,” you defended. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m missing my pageant.”

“You’re missing your pageant.” You wheeled her out of the elevator and around a corner, still not knowing where you were headed.

“The Manhattan Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could’ve won.” Savannah sat up as she was wheeled back around the same way. “Hello? You’re so lost. What are you, like, new?”

“I’m— just tell me what happened.”

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse.”

You gritted your teeth, trying not to be over-the-line rude to a patient on your first day. It took you almost another forty five minutes to find CT. You helped her with the scan before taking her back to a room. Before you knew it, it was lunch time. You grabbed some food from the cafeteria, finding your group of interns alone at a table.

“Savannah Chase is a pain in the ass,” you grumbled as you sat down with your tray. “If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic oath, I'd Kevorkian her with my bare hands.” The others around her just stared. “What?”

“Good afternoon interns,” a new doctor came up. “I’m Dr. Maria Hill. It’s posted, but I thought I’d share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I’m running the OR today, I get to make that choice. I’ve been watching you all and I have to say, you’re all something. The intern I’ve chosen is, Scott Lang.”

Scott coughed up the drink he had been taking. “M-me?” He questioned.

“You’ll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations.” Then she left.

“Did she say me?”

“I can’t believe you were chosen over me,” Natasha grumbled. “It’s already clear that I’m a better surgeon that you.”

“Did she say… I’m sorry. What?”

~~~

After lunch, you went back to Savannah’s room to take care of her. As you did, a man and a woman, not doctors, came in.

“Savannah, honey, mom and dad are here,” the woman said, coming over to Savannah’s bedside.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s a little groggy,” you informed them.

“Will she be alright?” The mother asked.

“Our doctor at home said she might need an operation, is that true?” The father wondered.

“What kind of operation?”

“She’s, um, well, you know what,” you tried your best to sound professional through your nervous stuttering, “I’m not, I’m not the doctor, uh. I am a doctor, but I’m not Savannah’s doctor, so I’ll go get him for you.”

You quickly left the room to go find Gamora. Thankfully, she was at the nurses desk just outside of the room. You hurried over but were too nervous to start speaking.

“What?” Gamora questioned, not looking up from the paperwork she was doing.

“Savannah’s parent’s have questions,” you responded. “Do you talk to them, or do I ask Banner?”

“No, Banner’s off of the case. Savannah belongs to the new attending now, Dr. Rogers, he’s over there.”

You follow in the direction that Gamora gestured to. You only made it a few steps before freezing. The man Gamora gestured to was talking to another doctor. But that wasn’t the reason you froze. Dr. Rogers was none other than your one night stand, Steve. Your eyes widened and you turned to go, but it was too late. Steve glanced your way, having to do a double take. You quickly left, feeling his eyes on the back of you.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Yes, this has been posted before, but I deleted it. I’m trying again. From now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[pedrothirst]

Fine Line - Part V

Author’s note: This is the first one of a lil set of smuts. Part VI will be a newly written part, I promise!

Part IV / Masterlist / Playlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/OC hybrid

Word count: 1,345

Warnings: smut, swearing

Her nails scratched over his lower neck as he kissed hers, sucking on the sensitive skin there, biting it. The little whimpers that left her lips went in sync with his soft thrusts. It was the first time that Javier was on top of her like this, that they were so close, they couldn’t tell where they began and the other one ended. Her left leg that was wrapped around his hip made sure to let him inside of her as deep as possible.

He was kissing her the whole time.

Whether it was her neck, the spot behind her ear, her cheek, her chest. Her lips. She hasn’t been this intimate with anyone in quite some time and while she enjoyed how warm and cozy it made her feel, she was also intimidated by those feelings. Javier and her weren’t a thing that was to be taken seriously. He shouldn’t make her heart flutter with every kiss, shouldn’t make her lean into his touches tonight when everything was a little off between the two of them, a little too intense. She shouldn’t get attached to his affection.

Even though she tried her best to let go and enjoy the moment, he could sense that she wasn’t as relaxed as he’d like her to be. One of his hands wandered to her face and cupped her cheek before his lips touched hers gently, involving her in a passionate kiss.

“Javi,” she whined but wasn’t able to say anything else because right in that second, he hit a spot inside of her that made the knot in her lower stomach grow tighter and tighter. 

His thrusts weren’t as fast as usual. Tonight, he went deeper, made each one count as the filthy noises they produced filled her bedroom. While she was getting closer to the edge, he took in her whole body. She looked like a goddess beneath him with her eyes closed, her lips were slightly parted, a thin layer of sweat covered her body. Her neck was red from all the attention it had received. Her breasts moved up and down with her heavy breathing, the nipples were hard and rosy, too good to not give them a quick lick. The noises the two of them made echoed in his ears, her scent filled his nose and the little moans of his name leaving her throat as she reached her high made him go insane. 

The sight of her coming caught him off guard.

He couldn’t hold himself back any longer either and while he was moving his hips one last time, he let go, releasing his own orgasms as her walls tightened around him.

A few moments later, he collapsed on top of her, his cock still buried inside when she wrapped her arms around his torso and let him lie down his head next to hers. She could hear and feel him breathing as he softly placed a kiss behind her ear. When she realized what had just happened and what they were doing right now, a slight panic overcame her, making her move hectically.

"I gotta get some water," she said, suddenly in a rush to get him off of her.

Javier rolled over with a groan.

"Sorry."

She got up quickly and goose-stepped to the kitchen where she helped herself to a glass of water that she downed in one go. No matter how good this type of sex with Javier felt, they couldn't take it any further from here. No matter how much she enjoyed the affection, the intimacy, the way he made her feel like she was the only woman in this godforsaken world, this was a temporary thing at the end of the day. Apart from the fun and some good talks they shared, their lives couldn't be more different. He had a job to do in Colombia, and what a job it was. Meanwhile she was here for a little adventure, some time off far away from home with a few classes and exams to pass in the meantime, but nothing that was happening down here was to be taken too seriously for her. Especially not the man in her bed. 

They fucked and that was it, she kept telling herself. 

While she was standing there in her kitchen, the cold water rumbling in her stomach as a stark contrast to her otherwise hot body, her eyes wandered through her apartment aimlessly before they spotted something lying on her couch. Javier had thrown his DEA jacket there earlier while he had already been occupied with more important things, like roaming his hands over her sides and kissing her as if this was his last night in Colombia. He had just come back from a mission in Cali, a very successful one apparently even though he hadn’t told her what had gone down exactly. But he had been high on adrenaline and had needed to see her the second he had set foot on Bogotanian soil. And judging by the past thirty minutes, he had also been in his feelings from the success of the arrest he had made. That must have been it. 

She put her glass in the sink and took a few steps towards the couch where she picked up his jacket and let the fabric run through her fingers. Maybe they should change things up a little bit before the night took an awkward turn.

The jacket hugged her naked frame after she had slipped in it. It was big on her and felt cold against her heated skin, making her nipples get hard again. She pulled the front ends together to cover herself as much as possible without zipping it up before she stepped through the door frame of her bedroom again.

Javier lied on the bed smoking a cigarette and staring at the ceiling when he heard her footsteps. His eyes moved in her direction and a split second later, he was coughing and choking on the smoke that he had inhaled too fast, caused by the sight in front of him. 

"I expected this to have an effect but I didn't wanna kill you."

After he had regained control over his breath, he hastily put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table and stood up just as quickly.

"Fuck, baby. You look… fuck."

His hands were on her hips immediately, grabbing them tightly as he eyed her up, taking in how his jacket framed her naked body underneath it, covering her tits but barely hiding anything else from him. 

He wouldn’t mind seeing this more often. 

While his palms went from holding her hips to wandering to her butt, Javier attacked her neck with his lips, sucking on it to leave a mark there that was long overdue if you had asked him. She was pressed against the door frame as he squeezed her ass and pushed his naked thigh between hers so she felt it rubbing against her pussy, still wet from previous shenanigans and his own cum dripping out of her.

"Get on the bed, now."

"Hey, I'm the authority here," she grinned as she tucked on the collar of the jacket.

"Don't get cocky on me, sweetheart. I need to fuck you in this asap."

He slapped her ass to emphasize his words.

Without protesting, she went to the bed, making sure to pull the jacket extra tight around her body on the way. After she had kneeled down on the mattress, she bent over, ass in the air and her glistening pussy on perfect sight for him as well as the big DEA lettering on her back.

"What happens if you get cum stains on this?" she asked with an innocent tone in her voice as she wiggled her butt from side to side, inviting him to take her like this.

"I don't give a fuck," he gasped before kneeling behind her and rubbing his cock against her wet pussy, getting ready to properly fuck her in his jacket, “Maybe we’ll find out.”

[Taglist: @steeeeeeeviebb @otherthingsinhead @pascalisthepunkest @onebatch--twobatch @letaliabane @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @mrsparknuts @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @jitterbugs927 @harrys-stan @lunaserenade​ @anu-simps​ @smoke-and-sunset​ @pedrospunk​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​]

[itsallmightbitch]

Stitches (Part Two)

Ya’ll, I wasn’t planning on posting this yet but when I actually checked, I realised that if I didn’t- Part Two was going to be over 12,000 words. So I had to split it again. So, you can look forward to a Part Three! I also, sort of, accidentally maybe, wrote a teeny tiny lil’ bit of plot. 

Tagged: @kittygonyan​ @mrsreina​ (If you’d like to be tagged in Part Three, give me a shout!)

Pairing: Villain!AllMight x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Blood, Swearing, Threats of Non-Con (Not made by our boy All Might and not said explicitly though).

Word Count: 6800+

Summary: A phone call makes you question just how the biggest bad in Japan feels about you. You discover just how All Might was injured and things get just a lil’ bit steamy.

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

He was gone for over half an hour and you’d spent that time preparing the dressings you’d need for him. The wound was in a semi awkward place- just below the dip of his collarbone, so you’d had to dig out the gauze tape.

All the while, you attempted to calm the rapid, dizzying beat of your heart.

 Those damn breathing exercises that Ivy had taught you were doing jack shit, especially with the feeling of his hands still imprinted firmly on your hips.

 Were you really going to do this tonight?

 It wasn’t as though you hadn’t danced around him for months now, the unyielding pull of his orbit spinning you closer and closer until the inevitable collision. But as you stood on the precipice, feet towing the line and looking into the abyss… there was still some trepidation.

 Was he just doing this to prove that he could get into your pants?

 Where the hell would it even go? He was, at his core, a villain and nothing you could do or say would ever change his nature.

 Not that you would want to. You weren’t here to ‘fix’ him in any other way but physically.

 Yet, despite all of the reservations that swam in your head, you couldn’t deny the chemistry that had always bubbled between you. Especially in those moments that you forgot just who he was and he was just idling around your apartment with you. Those moments made you just as hot as when you saw him pummelling some wannabe hero on TV.

 Making him coffee while he fixed your kitchen sink. Actually… finding out that he could fix a kitchen sink had been jarring enough. Bickering over which movie to watch, when you knew he was going to win like he always did- but arguing with him for the fun of it anyway.

 That day you’d found out that he did a fucking wicked impression of Endeavor and you’d howled with laughter- then caught him looking immensely proud of himself afterwards.

 Even now, the memory of it made your lips quirk in a stupid smile.

 Seeing that side of him made it so easy to separate him from the man the rest of the world saw. They weren’t privy to all the things that made him unique. Would it really be so wrong of you to give in?

 The filthy promise he’d made still rang in your ears.

 Slow, hard and all night long. Your thighs clenched in anticipation.

 Your phone buzzed cheerily on the side table and the coffee you’d made for yourself in his absence sloshed against the side of the mug when you jumped.

 An unknown number usually meant one of two things. Either All Might was calling you to ask how to perform some horrible mutilation on a person without them losing too much blood- or Ivy was calling for a chat.

 Since the former was currently using up all of your hot water- seriously, thirty five minutes now- you correctly guessed that it was the latter. You answered, immediately perking up at the sound of her voice.

 “Babes, is that beefy idiot of yours there? His little henchmen have been tearing apart half of the city trying to find him,” she said, not even bothering with hello. You tutted. Of course he’d just up and vanished without giving anyone a hint that he was okay.

 “Hi Ivy,” you said pointedly and you could almost hear her roll her eyes at your insistence of politeness. “Yeah, he’s here.”

 She grumbled.

 “Ugh, will you please tell him to call off his goons before I have to kill any more of them for disrespecting me,” she said, like murdering henchmen was all too taxing for her. You knew differently. She was probably enjoying the change of pace. You half smiled, shaking your head.

 What exactly was your life? Passing messages between villains like some kind of sentient answering machine.

 “Hold on. He’s in the shower,” you said, escaping the soft light of the living room and heading in the direction of the still -goddamn it- running water. His clothes were piled where you’d told him to leave them and you were oddly touched to find that he’d arranged them in a way that the bloodied parts weren’t on your carpet.

 He could be considerate when he wanted to be.

 Biting your lip, you eventually worked up the courage and knocked on the door. You knew that he was grinning from ear to ear, probably expecting you to barge in and simply toss your panties over your shoulder while you were at it.

 Hmm. There was plenty of time for that later.

 “Did you miss me already, sweet thing? Am I that irresistible?” he said, his tone all deep and buttery and the image of him stark naked and soaking wet stole your voice for a moment. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was taking so long because he was- taking care of himself.

 Your stomach whirled pleasantly at the thought of him stroking a hand along his thick-

 “Hey! Don’t forget to tell him that they have like, zero manners. I’m appalled at how rude they all are. This is no way to treat a lady!”

 Ivy’s irritated voice turned away from the phone for a moment. A crunch and a half-halted scream told you that she was more than handling herself against All Might’s minions.

 You licked your bottom lip, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to picture him behind the damn door again. Otherwise you’d never get out the words you needed to say. You’d get your chance to join him later, when your dumb obligation as his doctor wasn’t coming first.

 “Um, Ivy says your little minions are out of control again. You might want to deal with that, big guy,” you informed him and you heard him swear loudly, a colourful mix of words that would have made a sailor blush.

 The water, at long last, shut off.

 You hadn’t really considered what would come next, despite the fact that he’d clearly left his pants- and by extension- phone right next to where you were standing.

 The door opened and you suddenly had a face full of muscular, soaking wet chest. You barely even noticed his smug expression, too busy trailing your eyes down and focusing with laser like precision on the trail of blond hair that started at his bellybutton and vanished underneath his towel.

 All Might had a fucking happy trail. How had you not noticed it earlier?

 Oh yeah. All the blood.

 You had died. You were dead and buried and this was Heaven and of course your version of Heaven would have a soaking wet, naked super villain in it.  

 Every brain function ceased and all you could register was the heat of the steam billowing out from behind him and the aching urge you now felt to catch the lone water droplet that was rolling down along his abdomen with your tongue.

 It dipped into his bellybutton then out again, before soaking into the towel that he’d slung low around his hips.

 “You know, as much as I’m enjoying your reaction sweetheart,” he rumbled, openly amused by your gaping, idiotic staring. “I do need my phone before I lose any more men to the sewer rat.”

 “I fucking heard that, you jackass!” Ivy screeched and you were brought back to reality, aware that your face was now glowing red.

 He leaned down past you and fished his phone from his pants pocket and you could feel the sweet, water warmed heat of his skin as he passed so close to you. You resisted the urge you suddenly felt to throw your legs over your head.

You didn’t even know if your legs could do that and Ivy might not appreciate having to wait any longer for a reprieve.

 When he straightened up, he grinned at you and it was… different than his usual cocky smiles. This one was toothy and almost soft and his free hand came up to your chin, gripping it much like he had earlier. Except this time, it wasn’t to threaten you.

 It was to bring your lips to his in a nipping, hard kiss that took the air out of your lungs.

 Hnnng.

 “Soon kitten,” he murmured, biting your bottom lip once more playfully. “Don’t forget, this was your bright idea.”

 He winked at you before retreating back into the bathroom. You remained standing on the other side of the door for a long moment, cursing yourself for being so worried about him when you could be splayed out underneath him right now- morals be damned.

 You only remembered that Ivy was still on the line when you heard her voice asking if everything was okay.

 Fuck, it was more than okay. Not long from now, you were going to have that between your legs. More than ever you wished you hadn’t skipped all those yoga classes because this was going to be... challenging. 

Said legs carried you shakily back down the hall and away from the temptation to break the door down while you waved your bra over your head. 

Sexy.

 “He’s um- he’s calling someone now,” you cleared your throat, choosing not to sit on your bloodied couch and instead canting your hip against your dining table. “Sorry Ives. If I’d have known he was AWOL I’d have made him call sooner. I know what those idiots are like…”

 His henchmen were notorious for running riot without him there to rein them in. He was, surprisingly, like seventy three percent of their impulse control. It was a shame he lacked any himself.

 “You know, I’m not even surprised any more,” she tutted. “He could have at least let one of his lackey’s know before he went and squared up against- wait-” Her voice paused just as she reached the bloody good bit and you fought the urge to interrupt. “Maybe he’s been too busy to phone anyone… Wanna tell me what you’ve been up to?”

 Ivy knew what had gone down tonight by the sound of it. But she was also distracted and you knew you would get nowhere without indulging her curiosity first.

 “Oh yeah, he’s been super busy getting a big ass gash on his shoulder stitched up. Not much time for phone calls,” you hedged slyly. Ivy didn’t need to know he’d also been busy with his mouth on your neck while you attempted not to moan like a a porn star. Definitely a detail that could be left out.

 “Not going to lie sweets, I was convinced you were going to say getting a blowjob.”

 “Fucking hell, Ivy.”

 “What!? There’s nothing wrong with getting busy after a life threatening situation. I’m amazed that you both have so much restraint,” she said and despite your irritation over these villains all up in your personal life, you couldn’t find it in yourself to disagree with her out loud. “You said he was all sliced up? Did he tell you how he got it?”

 Interest?

 Piqued.

 “No! He’s being really secretive about it,” you said hurriedly as though Ivy would hang up on you at any second. She wouldn’t but you were far too eager to hear this story and your brain refused to function normally. “Do you know?”

 “I’m not technically supposed to, but well… henchmen talk darling, especially under the threat of pain…”

 “Ivy spill,” you said, dragging the word out into a whine. Ivy loved to tell a tale but you were impatient now. You wanted to hear what had happened before he came out of the shower. Not just because you didn’t want him to catch you snooping in his business but also because there was the promise of fantastic sex to come too.

 “Oh sweets, do I have a story for you,” Ivy squealed gleefully. Your heart beat hard in your chest in anticipation and you hoped that she wouldn’t drag it out too much. “I hope you’re sitting down for this because it’s just, mwah-” she made a kissing noise and you snorted.

 “Ivy, come on. While I’m still young.”

 “Tut tut, there’s no rushing a good thing. Or do you like it fast?” she teased, flirtatiously.

 You rolled your eyes and tutted into the phone, not in the mood to be teased. At least… not by Ivy.

 You checked over your shoulder- in case All Might had snuck up on you or was lurking in the doorway. He had a habit of doing that, just to make you jump. But he was nowhere to be seen, probably still on the phone, berating one of his second in command for their bad behaviour.

 You hoped it was Shigaraki getting a talking to. That guy gave you nothing but bad vibes.

 “So, I take it you remember last week, when you and I dished about that weirdo you treated? You know Hinata Cash?” she said his name almost cautiously as if worried that being too quick would bring back the memories before you would be able to handle them.

 You made a strangled noise that could have been agreement as your brief but memorable encounter with Hinata Cash came rushing back from the deep, dark part of your memories that you’d shoved it into.

 A chill raced along your spine.

 “Are you okay, sweets?” Ivy asked cautiously.

 “M’fine,” you said, clearing your throat. You wouldn’t let the mere mention of the creep make you uncomfortable. Ivy still paused until you reaffirmed that you were okay with talking about him though. “What about him? Is he still being a disturbing son of a bitch?”

 Your bravado was all show. You both knew it, but Ivy continued like she bought into your act.

 “Well, it turns out he was quite the talking point in some circles... Not enough to play with the big boys like your honey bun,” she said, probably giving the phone a shit eating grin. You didn’t even berate her for it and the teasing tone she’d aimed for fell away awkwardly. “But he was doing enough to get himself noticed. He’d started coming in to the Golden Cat on weekends. A few of the girls there told me about him…”

 “All good things, I bet,” you said, rubbing your arm nervously. There was really no reason to feel nervous, not with your door locked and All Might in your bathroom, but that didn’t stop tendrils of unease winding around your neck.

 “He started going by Scissorhands- Ugh, it was tacky if you ask me,” she sniffed primly. Never let anyone tell you that Ivy wasn’t a class act, you thought fondly. Still, the name made your insides twist uncomfortably. From what you’d seen on the snippets of news reports that day- he’d certainly lived up to his chosen name.

 You had never been truly frightened in all the years that you’d been treating criminals. Even during that first meeting with All Might, you had never felt like you were in any immediate danger- so long as you kept your mouth shut and remained respectful.

 But Cash…

 He was the type to cut your throat because he didn’t like the colour of your curtains or some shit.

 His entire visit had deeply unsettled you and set you on edge for days afterwards. Even now, despite the fact that he hadn’t delivered on his ‘promise’, you couldn’t really settle.

 Every movement he’d made that day, every little twitch of his hands had caused your body to recoil and had it not been for the tight hold you had over your Quirk, you might have done more harm than good.

 Thankfully, it had been a straight forward procedure but from the way your body trembled, you’d have thought it was your very first time all over again. He’d picked up on your nerves from the moment he’d sat down, leering whenever you flinched.

 Glass and debris had become embedded directly under his left eye from the bank robbery he’d partaken in, just hours before. It had been on the Channel Five news, which was partly why you were so on edge. His fingers had still been bloody from the security guard he’d literally torn apart.

 Heavy set, with wide shoulders and contrasting sharp features, you knew that had he made a move that day, you wouldn’t have had a chance to fight him off.

 The shaking of your hands had thankfully been negated by your Quirk.

 Precision wasn’t the most amazing Quirk in the world but it was particularly useful in your line of work. Being able to hit your target despite the shaking of your hands had saved you precious time.

 Quick, yet terrified, you’d cleaned up his face and as politely as you could, tried to see him out. But his hand had clamped down on your thigh, too high for comfort and your whole body froze- your eyes staring unseeingly past him.

You couldn’t breathe in anything more than quick, frightened gasps. He seemed to revel in them.

 You felt like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, seconds before the deadly bite.

 He’d leaned in close, his breath repulsive and sour and you’d thought of a million ways to escape in those few seconds- none of them even remotely useful.

 “I really appreciate this, Doc. It’s hard to find a woman with steady hands like yours...”

He had lifted one of them, examining it. 

“Wonderful quirk. So useful... I can see why All Might likes you so much. I think I quite like you too.”

 You had prepared for the worst. Mentally written your last will and testament and prayed to God that when he was finished with you he would just leave Marco be- the thought of him harming your cat suddenly far more prevalent in your mind than what was going to happen to you. 

Strangely though, he’d simply gotten up from the chair, stroked your cheek as you sat there like a statue and then let himself out. Not before throwing his parting remark over his shoulder, though. The one that had been haunting you all week.

 “I’ll see you again real soon, honey.”

 Naturally, you hadn’t gone after him for the payment he’d skimped out on.

 Hell to the no. Instead, you’d locked your front door, hyperventilated for a good fifteen minutes on your living room floor and then much to your embarrassment… you’d called All Might. 

For the first time ever.

 You had passed the call off as some dumb suggestion that he come over for pizza and a movie, like you were best friends and not potential-fuck-buddies. You hadn’t even had the strength to hide the tremble in your voice, nor the will to throw in any bravado. It had been a brutally honest call- one that you had never wanted to make.

 It was like letting him see the real you. Removing that final barrier between you that might hold you back from feeling anything real. That conversation had changed something, you thought. Something deep.

 “H-Hey! I know I never call like this but... I-I… Could you come over?”

 Your voice had been small and shaky, with you on the verge of tears- even though you would rather die than let them fall over someone so vile.

 There had been a pause on the other end, mid-way through whatever sarcastic thing he’d been about to berate you with.

 “Please?”

 You had added that without even thinking about it, voice catching and the grip of Cash’s hand still burning on your thigh. You had thought, in that silence, that he was going to brush you off. Either that or demand to know what was wrong. Thankfully, he did neither.

 “Ten minutes.”

 The longest ten minutes of your life. He had found you pacing a hole in the floor of your living room and petting the ever-loving bejesus out of Marco- stressed to the max. You’d locked eyes with him and he hadn’t even had to ask if you were glad to see him. Your face said it all.

 He hadn’t asked what had happened and you hadn’t told him… but he’d stayed anyway. A real villain, that one.

 “Sounds about right to me,” you scoffed, tone disgusted at the thought of that… that man. “Ives, I don’t scare easily, you know that... but I know full well what he wanted and it wasn’t a back rub. What does this have to do with why All Might turned up injured?”

 You felt unsettled at having him brought up out of the blue. You’d been quite happy to forget all about him and the way that his gaze had made your skin crawl.

 “Everything. The word should be getting out any minute now, about our dear departed Tim Burton knockoff.”

 You paused, startled and unsure if you’d heard her right.

 “Departed?”

 “Oh, he’s very, very dead darling,” Ivy said lightly, as if she was just telling you the weather for the day.

 The relief that washed over you was momentous and almost made your knees give way, causing you to grip the table for support. He was dead. You were free of the lurking shadow of fear that plagued your days and nights. The one that robbed you of decent sleep because you were jumping at every little noise in your apartment.

 “Is it bad that I just wanna say ‘Oh thank God’?” you replied, breath knocked from you. Ivy laughed. She sounded just as pleased as you felt.

 “You won’t be the only one, I’m sure. He must have put up a halfway decent fight, if it took you that long to stitch up a little old cut,” she said, pointedly as though waiting for you to work things out. She was probably disappointed that she didn’t get to see your reaction when you did.

 Oh. Holy shit.

 “All Might killed him!?” you squeaked, then lowered your voice drastically in case he heard you. “Are you fucking with me right now, Ivy? Because that’s not cool.”

 You didn’t really know how to feel about it, if it was true. You were more than relieved that the looming shadow of Cash was gone forever but regretful that somehow, All Might had found out what you’d tried to keep from him and had gotten himself hurt in the process of doing something about it.

 “It’s true,” she said, confirming it. “You and I both know I hate giving that overrated blowhard any credit… but something had to be done about him. Cash had it coming, either way. There are plenty of girls at the Golden Cat who’ll be glad to see him gone.”

 You swallowed hard. Your silence was more you being concerned over All Might’s well being than over the fact that he had killed a man tonight. He’d killed plenty of people in the time you’d known him.

That wasn’t about to destroy the image of him that you had.

It was more the deep seated worry that always gripped you when he was involved in something dangerous. Usually, you could worry yourself sick over the news broadcast and at least then, if anything happened, you would know.

But tonight, he’d gone out there and gone one on one with a man who could rip people apart from the inside out- and you hadn’t even known. What if he’d never come back? What if he’d died because of you and word would get back to you, weeks down the line that you would never see him again?

Something horrid lodged in your stomach.

 “Won’t he get heat from other villains?” you asked to distract yourself, rubbing the top of Marco’s head as he trotted past- blissfully unaware of your minor breakdown. “Isn’t there some… I dunno… Code of conduct or something? Honour among thieves?”

 Ivy snorted, obviously amused at your blatant lack of knowledge. You would think that someone as deep into the criminal underworld as you were would at least know a little about how things operated. But no. 

You chose to remain blissfully ignorant.

 “Hmm, well here’s the thing. The King makes the rules and All Might, well… as much as I’m loathe to admit it, he wears the crown babes. Who the Hell is going to argue with him?” she asked and you bit your lip, the fear of retaliation lessening.

 It was no secret that he was both feared and respected- enough to keep even the toughest of the tough under his thumb. There wasn’t a Hero or Villain in the world who could realistically take him on, one on one, and win.

 That thought relaxed you and the horrid sensation lessened. It didn’t leave entirely, but it receded enough that you could breathe again.

 “Anyway, to cut a long story short… Cash wasn’t exactly secretive about what he liked to do to girls. He was always running his mouth and tonight, he came in absolutely singing about some pretty little Doctor that he’d fallen head over heels for…” Ivy said sourly, obviously not enjoying this part of the story.

 You enjoyed it even less. It didn’t take a genius to work out just who that Doctor was. Your hope that he’d just been trying to scare you when he threatened to see you again had been futile, apparently and you were suddenly so glad that you’d asked All Might to stay that night.

 “ You’re pretty well known yourself around here, sweets. Did you know that?”

 You hadn’t known, no, but you kept quiet.

 “It didn’t take long for a few of the regulars to work out just who Cash was talking about. Word got around like wildfire and eventually got to old Shigaraki himself. From what I’ve heard through the grapevine tonight, it took five and a half minutes from Shigaraki calling his boss, until All Might was storming the Golden Cat.”

 Damn, there had been you, badmouthing Shigaraki not ten minutes ago in your head. If it hadn’t been for him telling All Might, who knows what would be happening to you right now?

 You made a mental note to be extra nice to him the next time you saw him.

 The thought that Cash had been interested in you made you shudder, sickened at the thought of him even thinking about you like that. Your body felt grimy and you resisted the urge to run to the bathroom and scrub yourself clean.

 All Might was officially your fucking hero and he could pry that word from your cold, dead hands.

 Sure, he would be horrified at the implication but that didn’t make it any less true. Maybe that’s why he’d brushed off your questioning earlier, being difficult when you wanted to know how he’d been injured.

 You caught yourself grinning stupidly, attempting to hide it by biting your lip. You realised that there was no point. Ivy couldn’t see you anyway.

 “So, I think the message is officially loud and clear. No-one fucks with the good Doctor,” she laughed, all angelic and sweet and you beamed down the phone, laughing along with her. You felt a heady sort of rush as the realisation that you were safe again sunk in. That the villains you had helped and minded and treated like people over the years had heard that you were in danger and had come to the rescue in their own way.

 The realisation that… that he cared. Deep down, past his angry and irritable nature, he really cared.

 “Ivy, I-”

 Without warning, two large, muscular arms wrapped around your waist from behind and you might have jumped had All Might not buried his face into your neck and rumbled a low, lazy growl, like a bear waking up from hibernation. He nuzzled you with a deliberate slowness, lips pressing warm against your throat.

 “You still talking to the sewer rat?” he murmured, sounding annoyed because he knew you wouldn’t hang up on her just because he said so- and so he would have to wait as patiently as he could until you were done.

 On the other hand, it was an opportunity to rile Ivy up as much as possible.

 “It’s Vagabond, you overgrown man child,” she hissed down the line, all previous goodwill towards him gone from her voice.

 All Might ignored her, choosing instead to tug you back until you were plastered against his chest and he could lay his kisses along your shoulder- even though he still had to stoop down to reach. How did he even get so tall? Your breath caught in your throat, longing and gratitude fighting for the number one spot.

 He wasn’t going to stay patient for much longer and neither were you.

 “Listen, I gotta go, Ives. Love you, babes,” you said quickly and she cackled manically, well aware of where you were rushing off to in such a hurry. This was only proving her right. She would be insufferable for weeks now.

 “Love you too, sweets! Try not to break anything. Like the building.”

 You hung up to the sound of her laughter and turned in All Might’s arms, surprising him when you pulled him down for a kiss. You were long past the point of worrying about morals and right and wrong. There couldn’t be anything wrong in wanting him like you did. In knowing that he protected you and cared about you in his own way- no matter if he never said it out loud.

 He broke away, smirking.

 “Someone’s eager,” he ground out, hands sweeping up along your sides. His thumb brushed the underside of your breast and you pulled in a shaky, uneven breath. “I bet you’ll be fucking soaking…”

 Well, he wasn’t wrong. Those intense eyes trailed over your face, lingering on your lips until he locked his gaze with yours.

 “Thank you,” you blurted out, without meaning to.

 One of his eyebrows quirked, amused.

 “You’re thanking me for making you wet? That’s a new one on me sweetheart but sure. I’ll take the credit where it’s due,” he laughed cockily, one hand on the back of your head as he dove forward again and kissed you roughly. This one was all teeth and tongue and your knees shook, suddenly feeling thankful that he was holding you up.

 You moaned softly, powerless but confident under his touch.

 There was no pushing him back, no sliding your tongue into his mouth because the man was a force of nature and practically every inch of him was pure muscle. So you were content to let him take what he wanted from you, for now. Later you would find a way to turn the tables- to make him the quivering pathetic mess.

 Right now, all you wanted was to find out all of the ways he kissed.

 The angry ones, the lust filled ones, the sweet ones. The good morning kisses and the I’m happy to see you kisses and all the fucking kisses in between. You were off to a great start. You sighed, tangling your fingers in his hair and stroking your thumb in a circle on his scalp.

 He melted under your touch and deep down you revelled in the fact that he was just as affected by you as you were by him.

 “I um,” you stuttered, swallowing hard when you reluctantly pulled away from him. He looked as though he wanted to follow your mouth but for a change he let you speak. “I didn’t mean thank you for- for that.”

 “For what?” he asked knowing full well what you meant, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip.

 “For…” Your face heated quickly, without you even realising it.

 Without warning, a hand was shoved between your already shaky legs and he pressed upwards, cupping your pussy and dragging a half halting, surprised moan out of your throat. He almost took you off your feet and your fingers wrapped over his biceps to steady yourself.

 “For. What?” All Might asked again, applying pressure in all the places you needed pressure applied. Oh you were well and truly fucked and he hadn’t even gotten you naked yet.

 “Cause if you’re blushing now, kitten, then I can’t wait to see what you’ll be like when we really get going,” he continued, nuzzling along your cheek and rubbing his palm over your aching pussy. “M’not a mind reader. You have to tell me what you want. Where you want me. How hard you want me to pound into you. I wanna hear you sobbing my name like it’s the last fucking thing you’ll ever say tonight. Think you can do that for me? Hmm?”

 You were gripping his arms for dear life, trying to focus on the steady heaving of your lungs. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 “Yeah, yeah, I can do it,” you promised, almost without hearing the words come out of your mouth. “I promise.”

 “Good girl,” he purred encouragingly and you just about lost your shit for a few seconds, along with any sense you might have had left as the praising words repeated on a loop in your head. “Now, I’ll ask again. What weren’t you thanking me for?”

 He was grinning wickedly against your cheek, eyes boring into yours.

 “For making me wet,” you responded finally, when your tongue no longer felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and you remembered how to speak actual words and not just garbled syllables.

 He groaned- actually groaned like you were the one touching him, instead of the other way around and it sent a shivering wave of heat spreading out at the base of your spine. Your clit throbbed mercilessly under the heat of his palm.

 “Christ kitten,” he said, voice hoarse. He didn’t pull his hand away like you thought he would though. You were still sensitive from your little dry humping session earlier and the pressure he was applying was agonising torture for so many reasons.

 You both knew he would pull away though if you even tried to set the pace. He’d made it perfectly clear that he was in charge.

 “Now, what were you thanking me for? You’ve got me all curious.”

 You felt dizzy and the words didn’t exactly come easily. The heat radiating off of his bare chest was intoxicating and so was the sight of all those well defined, rippling muscles so easily within reach. You indulged yourself, seeing as you hadn’t been able to earlier. You lightly trailed the pads of your fingers over his pectoral muscle and down at a steady pace, over the hardness of his abs and then to the tempting, glorious V shape that led under-

 Your smile came unbidden to you and he noticed, knowing immediately what you were grinning like an idiot about. He was wearing the pajama pants you’d gotten him.

 They were simple, nondescript pants like any guy would wear but… you’d gotten them in his favourite colour and he’d actually put them on.

 You’d expected him to either stay in his towel or well, just get the clothes out of the way entirely.

 “Yeah, yeah,” he snorted, releasing you when he realised that he’d gotten your attention in an entirely different way. The loss of sensation between your legs was more than worth it to see him standing there, a little awkwardly, with his arms crossed. “Don’t be a jackass about it, for fuck sake. I just didn’t want to have my dick out when I was eating dinner.”

 “Like that would bother you,” you beamed and he grunted something petulant that you didn’t hear.

 “You gonna tell me what you’re thanking me for, or what?” he said after a moment, ignoring the obvious erection that was tenting the front of said pants. You found it very, very hard to ignore but dragged your eyes up to his face after a moment anyway. His self assured smirk was expected.

 He knew how attractive he was and what it was doing to you. Damn him.

 “Cash,” you managed to say after a moment and it clearly didn’t answer his question. He looked at you like you were an idiot.

 “You… want cash? Here was me thinking you weren’t a whore,” he cackled, pleased at his own cleverness. You were less amused, punching him lightly in the arm. The shaking of his shoulders didn’t stop but at least he was no longer laughing out loud.

 You were trying to spill your heart to the big jerk and he couldn’t stop mocking you for more than five seconds.

 “Come on! Stop being a dick,” you scowled, arousal now tainted with annoyance. He rolled his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his slicked back hair, his laughter dying after a moment.

 “Alright, alright! Explain yourself, woman,” he swept his hands out, metaphorically giving you the floor.

 “Hinata Cash,” you elaborated, expecting the penny to drop. But when he continued to look lost, it slowly dawned on you that he’d never even bothered to learn the guys name. All he’d known was that he was going to do something to hurt you and… that had been enough for him to go on. Your heart thrummed in your chest. “Um, Scissorhands?”

 Much like they had earlier, his eyes darkened, flashing a sudden warning that it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. Unlike earlier though, you ignored it. Answers to your question were just out of reach.

 “Why are you bringing up that motherfucker?” he asked gruffly, then swept past you almost dismissively before you could answer. He disappeared into your kitchen, his back to you. Not the reaction you had been expecting. The heated air had vanished- as had the playfulness he’d exuded moments before. “Way to kill a mood, doll.”

 You suddenly regretted opening your mouth. He hadn’t told you- and if he hadn’t told you, there had been a reason for it.

 “Shit,” you hissed softly to yourself, listening to him stomping around the kitchen behind you.

 You turned and followed him, pathetically useless against the part of you that longed to be near him. Besides, there was no taking it back now and you were burning up with curiosity.

 Why had he killed Cash? Why had he even bothered himself at all?

 Most of all, you wanted- no needed to know.

 Had he done it for you?

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

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

hold me like the moon holds onto the tide (3/3)

Summary: Kidnapped and locked in a cell with no escape. Alex and Michael are faced with an ex-Caulfield employee who is prepared to do anything to get alien powers of his own. (Inspired by the Daisy/Sousa scenes in Agents of Shield 7x06)

Word Count: 3,804

[Also on AO3]  [Part One] [Part Two]

“What about the time he tripped over your guitar and smashed his head into the table?” Flint leaned back as he spoke. The hard plastic of the chair was digging into his back and it squeaked as he tried to get comfortable.

He’d never liked hospitals. The strong antiseptic smell that seemed to linger in the air. The rush of people in the day and the quiet hallways at night. The big scary words that made no sense but always seemed to mean something bad. The unnatural mix of cleanliness and death.

He didn’t mind them so much when he was younger. His mother had always told him that they were hopeful places, where illnesses were cured and lives were saved. Thinking back, it was probably just her protective way of trying to calm his nerves whenever a grandparent was sick.

But at that age, her positive nature imbued in him a childish hope that the doctors would be able to help his brother. That soon they would realise that that many broken bones and bruised ribs a year was so much more than just a clumsy child falling off his bike or losing his grip whilst climbing a tree.

He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped wishing for someone to work it out and just accepted that no one would. It was probably around the same time he’d stopped accompanying his brother on his too frequent visits and had left that responsibility for someone else.

The last time he had actually stepped foot inside a hospital was after his unfortunate accident during CrashCon. Healing up in the unwelcoming, lonely hospital room for a week wasn’t fun but at least he hadn’t needed to worry about the condition of anyone else during that time.

No, the last time he’d been on the waiting for news end was during his last tour when several members of his team had been seriously injured.

Until now. Which is why part of him was glad that he wasn’t alone in his vigil.

“He must have been about eight, right?”

“Oh my god, there was blood everywhere!” Gregory grimaced as he looked over at him, horrified that his brother was even bringing up that memory.

Flint laughed softly at how uncomfortable the recollection had clearly made his brother, ”You felt so guilty! I don’t think you even got your guitar out of its case for months afterwards.”

Gregory shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. He wasn’t sure when this game between them of who had the most embarrassing moments had just straight up turned into a list of which brother had managed to injure another the most.

It was true though. He hadn’t slept properly for days after that incident. Every time he had closed his eyes he had seen Alex’s poor little face covered in blood and tears and snot and he’d felt the guilt brewing inside him. He had avoided the guitar out of fear that he would somehow manage to wound his brother with it again.

To this day he still makes sure that the instrument is kept off the floor.

“You know, growing up, I think that was the last time he was in the hospital where it wasn’t dad that put him there.” He replied sombrely.

Flint hummed in response. He had run out of words to say on that subject. It was a topic that had slipped frequently into discussions between the two of them during their months of reconciliation and it always ended in the acknowledgement of their guilt and desire to do better.

Gregory pressed the heel of his hand into his eye. It had been a long day and he could feel the hours catching up with him. “I really hoped I would never have to see him in a hospital again.”

"Were you there after he lost his leg?” Flint asked.

“No, I didn’t even know it had happened ’til months later. Did you?”

”No. I think Dad went though.”

“Seriously?”

Flint nodded with an unamused look on his face.

“Why? It’s not like he went to go play the loving father.” Gregory asked, genuinely confused as to why his dad would even bother to take the time to go and see Alex.

Flint shook his head as he repositioned himself again. At this rate he was honestly considering going on a hunt for a pillow. “That man didn’t know the first thing about being a loving father.”

Gregory’s brows furrowed as he failed to hide his surprise at that statement. The expression was so familiar and Flint couldn’t hold back an exasperated eye roll.

“Don’t give me that look, I may have followed in his footsteps but I know exactly what kind of man he was.”

Gregory watched as his brother played with the cuff of his jacket, his thumb and forefinger running along the edge before tugging uselessly at the material. It was a nervous habit that he’d always thought their father had managed to train out of Flint.

“Do you regret it? Following him?” He asked delicately, noticing how Flint’s eyes remained trained on his sleeve as he answered.

“We all followed him.”

“Into the military, yeah, we didn’t exactly have a choice. But on his little homicidal mission? The rest of us hopped that train before it reached the station.”

“Umm more like he didn’t even invite you onto the train. You have no idea what you would have done.” Flint replied defensively and Gregory was caught off guard by how much the look in Flint’s eyes reminded him of their mother.

“Pretty sure I wouldn’t have done that.” He teased, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah alright, well I’ve apologised, okay?” Flint rolled his eyes again as he leant over and gave his brother a playful shove.

Their conversation fell into a comfortable silence as their gaze drew back to the third presence in the room.

Alex hadn’t woken since Flint had found him but in the hours since they had brought him to the hospital his cheeks had gained more colour and he looked to be resting more peacefully.

Clean bandages hugged his various wounds, several IVs were in place to begin replenishing what Hughes had stolen and now all they needed was for him to wake up.

It was strange watching their brother sleep. The last time they would have had the chance was when they were all living under the same roof together, but Alex was always so guarded back then with their father in the house that he would never allow himself to be seen in such a vulnerable state. Starting after their mum had left, Greg could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Alex sleep and they’d all been due to illness or injury.

The hospital ambience of the room, along with Greg’s wandering mind, was interrupted by a text alert on Flint’s phone. He slid his hand into his front pocket and pulled out the device, unlocking it with a quick tap of four digits. He opened the message and Greg watched as his eyes scanned the words.

“It’s Clay. He says he’s glad we found him and to keep him updated.”

Greg’s eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled. It had been a long while since he’d seen Clay in person but he was glad to hear that their brother was also onboard for acting like a family again. “Who would have thought it. It only took us until our thirties but we’re all finally learning how to be brothers again.”

Flint opened his mouth, ready to give a sappy reply about how he much he’d missed the bond they’d all had during childhood, when a small groan from the bed caught his attention.

Alex’s brow was furrowed as he poked his tongue through his lips slightly - a tiny habit that Greg could recall seeing him do all the time when he was younger. After a few moments his eyes blinked open as he let out another involuntary groan.

Greg couldn’t help but grin as he watched Alex slowly register his surroundings. Being closer to the top of the bed than Flint, he leant forward and gently placed a comforting hand on Alex’s arm.

“Hey.” He whispered, keeping his voice low as to not startle his brother.

Alex turned his head slightly, his unfocused eyes drifting to the left as he followed the sudden sound. “Hey,” he replied, his words slow and soft. “You’re here?”

“Of course we’re here.” Greg began to rub his thumb back and forth along Alex’s arm in a soothing gesture. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

Greg was unsurprised at the answer. Alex’s eyes were already struggling to stay open. “Go back to sleep Alex. You’re safe now.”

Alex had only allowed his eyes to close again fully for a moment before they were flying open again, Michael’s name being drawn from his lips with a gasp.

Greg continued the soothing motion, bringing Alex’s gaze back to him. “He’s fine, he’s okay. He’ll probably be here the next time you wake up.”

Alex nodded as he let his body relax once more and drifted back to sleep.

Greg looked over to Flint to find him wearing a matching smile, nodding to himself in an unspoken acknowledgement. Alex was going to be okay.

-

The door to Alex’s room opened carefully.

Michael had noticed that the lights inside had been dimmed so he hadn’t wanted to wake anyone, though he was wholly unsurprised to find Greg and Flint watching him with raised eyebrows as he entered.

“Thought you were gonna try and get some sleep?” Flint asked in near amusement.

“I did get some sleep.”

Greg tilted his head sympathetically. “Michael, you’ve been gone barely an hour.”

Michael shrugged as he took a seat in the one remaining chair on the other side of the bed, “No one specified how much sleep.”

He had tried to get some rest but every time he closed his eyes it was like there was an invisible string yanking him back to the hospital.

Isobel had taken him home as soon as Kyle had assured them all that, in time, Alex would be fine. She had spent the drive spouting on and on about how he had been through as much of an ordeal as Alex had and he needed to rest and look after himself. Or at least let someone else look after him.

The words had been left hanging in the air between them for a good few minutes before he had fully registered her kindness. And then he had just felt a horrible pang of guilt deep in his stomach. Guilt that her compassion and protectiveness didn’t quite warm his heart as much as Alex’s had.

So he listened to her. He ate the small plate of food she had lovingly made for him. He drank the hot cup of tea that burnt his tongue. He showered, letting the scolding water wash away the overwhelming fear that had been building up inside him ever since he first woke up with his hands chained to a wall. And then he crawled into Isobel’s bed and tried to ignore the nervous energy that was still sitting heavily on his chest.

And he had slept a little, he wasn’t lying about that, but it was like his brain knew that there was somewhere else he should be and he just couldn’t take it any longer.

“How’s he doing?” He tugged at his bottom lip as he observed Alex’s still sleeping face.

“Better.” Greg nodded, taking a moment to hide a yawn with his hand. “The doctor came back while you were gone. Said he’s probably gonna be quite weak and achy for a few days at least. But the transfusions are helping and he should be fine.”

Michael ran a hand through his curls. It wasn’t much more information than Kyle had provided earlier but to hear that nothing had gone wrong in his brief absence was relieving.

“He woke up not too long ago.” Greg continued and Michael looked at him, somewhat horrified that Alex had woken without him. It must have shown on his face.

“Calm down Guerin,” Flint snorted, “it was for like thirty seconds, he probably won’t even remember it.”

Michael could practically feel the heat crawling up his cheeks. No matter how protective and borderline possessive he felt of Alex at the moment, it was still embarrassing for anyone but himself to be aware of that fact.

“No it’s good, I’m glad he’s okay.” Michael coughed as he tried to deflect the conversation.

But Greg seemed to know how to catch him off guard all of a sudden as he turned it back onto him. “And how are you feeling?”

Michael took a few seconds to process the fact that Alex’s brother seemed genuinely concerned in his questioning.

“I’m fine, my powers are back and everything.” He replied warily. With Jesse Manes gone, he knew that he wasn’t in any danger from anyone currently in the room, but it still felt strange talking about his alien abilities to any Manes man that wasn’t Alex. “I could probably do with a bit more sleep before I try to use them, but whatever Hughes did to me has worn off.”

“That’s good that it wasn’t permanent. We’ll still go through all the data that Hughes managed to collate though and find out exactly how much he knew.” Flint said strategically and Michael could practically see the mental to-do list he was creating in his head. “And as long as you’re aware that you should be sleeping, I think our job here is done.”

Greg smirked at his brother’s comment. It was very clear that getting Michael to rest was a battle they were not going to win tonight.

“Talking of sleep, you know you two look worse than I do and I was literally being held hostage a few hours ago. If you want to head home for a bit I can stay with Alex.” Michael said innocently as he watched Greg yawn once again.

“Greg, I think that’s code for he wants some alone time with our little brother.” Flint mocked in a hushed tone.

“Hmm I think you’re right Flint.” Greg joined in, watching as Michael’s eyes widened as he spluttered in defence. “Or do you think maybe it’s just our company he doesn’t like?”

“Oh definitely. He’s been waiting for the moment to get rid of us.”

“We must have done something really wrong considering the person he wants to be left with is still asleep right now.”

“That is so true Greg. I mean he’s clearly desperate so we should probably leave now before we make it even worse.”

Michael rolled his eyes as he failed to control his smile. It was a display of brotherly mocking that he never imagined he would ever experience from someone other than Max and Isobel and as embarrassing as it was, it was somewhat heartening to be on the receiving end of it.

Flint chuckled as he stood, his back instantly grateful to be out of the chair, and he took one last look at Alex before leading the way to the door.

“Text us if you need anything, okay?” Greg placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder as he passed him and squeezed reassuringly.

Michael nodded as he watched them leave, afraid to open his mouth incase no words came out around the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. Having seen the hateful side of the Manes men in action, there was something so heartwarming about seeing Alex’s brothers actually be brothers. And to be included in the familiarity was a whole new feeling entirely.

-

Michael looked out at the stars shining through the window. The lights were still dimmed which allowed the moonlight to fill the room around him with a soft, pale glow.

He still remembered all of the constellations that he had taught himself as a kid, back when he was so desperate to soar high into the sky to join them. Back when he’d give anything to find his home planet again.

But looking into the glimmering darkness now, he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d stared at the night sky in search of the home he was unwillingly torn away from.

In fact he couldn’t quite remember how long it had been since home, for him, had started to be a person again.

Michael made no attempt to stifle a yawn as he rubbed at his eyes. They were aching terribly and he could feel his body hopelessly crying for sleep but there was no way he was leaving until Alex was awake.

As if on cue, a small noise from beside him shook him out of his doziness.

He watched Alex’s throat bob as he swallowed reflexively before slowly blinking open his eyes.

“Hey,” Michael whispered. His voice so soft the word barely left his mouth.

Alex’s eyes wandered momentarily, seeking out the owner of the voice. Once his gaze locked with Michael’s, all Alex could do was stare, a small smile emerging as he took in Michael’s presence. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael looked at him tenderly as he leant forward and laced his fingers with Alex’s. A somewhat casually intimate move that he didn’t regret in the slightest. “And so are you.”

Alex looked down at the touch and relished in the warmth of Michael’s skin against his. The act of their hands together feeling so natural.

“How are you feeling?” Michael asked, his tired eyes looking longingly into Alex’s.

“Sore.” Alex replied and Michael couldn’t hold back the huff of laughter.

“Well, that’s what happens when you offer yourself up to be a guinea pig for a crazy psychopath.”

Alex playfully rolled his eyes at the accusation. He could practically feel his head pounding in time with his heart but he did his best to ignore it. He’d willingly accept the throbbing of his muscles and the coldness in his bones right now if it allowed him to just stay in this moment.

A few aches and pains were worth it. He was just glad to be alive.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, enjoying the way the moonlight was shinning on Michael’s curls.

“No, he didn’t touch me.” Michael assured him, “Isobel, Flint and Kyle got us out before he could do anything else.”

“How did they find us?”

“Turns out Sanders was still at the junkyard. Luckily he managed to catch the tail end of our little kidnapping so he called Isobel who called everyone and they spent the entire night trying to figure out who had taken us.”

Michael still couldn’t believe the luck they’d been in that the old man had chosen that night to stay late. They may never have been found if he hadn’t.

“Flint went to the bunker to look for possible alien connections when he found emails between Hughes and your dad. He recognised the name as someone he worked with in Caulfield so he followed the trail and it led him to us.”

Alex added another bullet point to his mental Project Shepard to-do list. If thoroughly digging into every email on the bunker’s computers was what was needed to prevent Michael being targeted again, then so be it.

“Of course he won’t tell me how it led him to us. It seems that’s classified.” Michael brought up the hand not holding Alex’s to do some one-sided air quotes.

“What about Hughes and his men?”

Michael shrugged, “Dealt with, apparently. Your brother is very secretive when he wants to be.”

“Must be a Manes thing.” Alex smirked sleepily.

“They were here earlier by the way. Flint and Gregory. They would have stayed but I used my charm to convince them that you’d much prefer to see my face over their’s any day.”

Michael winked at him and Alex felt butterflies. “Always.”

Michael gazed down at their locked fingers as he slowly ran his thumb up and down in a comforting gesture. He knew what he wanted to say next, but the words just felt so big and he needed to get them right.

“You shouldn’t have protected me like that. And I shouldn’t have let you.” He began sincerely.

“Michael-”

“But I’m grateful that you did.”

Alex’s lips parted but he couldn’t find the right words quick enough.

“We need to talk. Like properly talk. But what happened today, it made me realise how stupid it is to not be honest about how I feel.” Michael looked up and could see how intently Alex was listening. His beautiful brown eyes eager and hopeful.

“I can use as many excuses as I like. How we’re not good for each other. How it’s not our time right now. But you almost died, Alex. And if you had, it would have killed me. And if you had gone not knowing how much I care about you.” Michael shook his head as he looked away. The lump forming in his throat again. “I’m completely and totally in love with you Alex Manes. Always have been, always will. I can’t run away from it anymore and I’m done hiding it.”

Alex bit his lip as he felt the tears start to form in his eyes. He had been waiting to hear those words for so long.

He had been waiting to say them for even longer.

“I’ll never stop protecting you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate that before. I’m sorry I’ve pushed you away in the past and I’m sorry that I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now.” Alex grinned, almost giddy at the declaration, “I love you Michael Guerin. Always have, always will.”

Michael could feel his heart hammering in his chest as his breath caught in his throat. He pursed his lips in an attempt to curb the ridiculous grin that was threatening to unfurl.

He gently unlaced his fingers, pushed himself out of the chair and leant over to delicately cup Alex’s cheeks, feeling the cool skin under his palms.

As dramatic love declarations go, tonights was pretty remarkable. But maybe it was exactly what they needed. They were here, they were alive and they were in love. That was the truth, spoken aloud with only the stars as their witness and there was no taking it back.

And Michael didn’t want to wait a second longer as he closed his eyes and met Alex’s lips with his own.

It was a gentle kiss. Slow and sweet and just as perfect as he remembered it being.

It was home.

[yeollieayheehoo]

Circles

Authors note: This is my very first request! “ can i request a taehyung and reader angst? it can be whatever you want it to be, i just want some good ole angsty angst. “ Thanks anon. One angst for you 

Summary: This is never easy, losing a life. 

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (female)

Genre: angst

Rating:  PG

Warnings: explicit language, mention of life loss, miscarriage, 

Word Count: 2.1K

The lights are too bright.

The walls are too white, and the room practically glows around you. You can’t help but wonder if it’s the remnants of the souls that have died in this room, finding the sheetrock a reasonable substitute to shine their light, their bodies failing them.

You wonder if your child will find their way back to this room, or if they will find another room in this hospital to illuminate.

Beside you your husband answers the nurse’s questions, your voice failing you. Your husbands’ hand is tight in yours, his tan skin seeming darker than usual against yours, which has turned white too. You hope that you will join this room also, when your body too fails you.

You can hear the nurse say she’ll be back, and you close your eyes, unable to look at the orbs that spin in front of your eyes. Your husband presses a kiss to the back of your hand, tells you he’s going to call his mother, and leaves you alone in the room with the last three hours running through your head.

 “What do you want for lunch?” Taehyung places his left hand on your hip, clasping his right hand with your left and sways from side to side, grinning brightly at you, pleased with his impromptu dance in your living room.

“Cheese sticks.”

“Cheese sticks, huh?” You giggle as he spins you, imagining the music in his head and leading you to an unknown beat. “Oooh, and a milkshake. God I could kill for a vanilla milkshake right now.”

“Murder is still illegal my love, but I could probably do something about the milkshake and cheese sticks.” You hum in consideration as your free hand slides it’s way from his shoulder to play with the hair kissing the nape of his neck. “Does it count as murder if you’re pregnant? Because the tiny human in me is the one demanding, thus the one responsible for the murderous need for a milkshake.”

“I love when your lawyer comes out.” Taehyungs voice is teasing as he leans forward and presses his lips softly against yours. He puts the hand he’s holding over his shoulder before letting his fall to your waist, pads of his thumbs rubbing small circles into the skin of your stomach.

The doorbell interrupts your moment and you cant help but smile at Taehyungs pout as you pull away. “It’s open! You don’t have to ring every time you come over Joonie.”

“After the time I found you two procreating, I’ll ring, thanks though.” Namjoon walks through your door with both hands full of bags. “Did Christmas come early this year?”

“For you? No. For the tiny human invading your womb right now? Absolutely.”

“You know, the two of you could refer to that tiny human as our baby. That is a thing.” Taehyung moves, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. His fingers are splayed across your stomach, where they’ve been unable to stay away for more than a few hours since you told him the news of your pregnancy.

“Yeah, but tiny human is cuter than baby.” Namjoon shrugs as he sets the shopping bags down on your living room table and settles in the chair that’s dubbed as his.

“He has a point.” Taehyung sighs and kisses your cheek before pulling away and grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. “Cheese sticks and a vanilla milkshake, anything else?”

“Just for you to come home safely.” You smile sweetly at your husband and pull him by his hand back to you, kissing him gently. He hums against your lips before stepping back and moving to the door. “Always my love. I’ll be back.” He leaves with a backwards shout of love and you turn your attention to your best friend when the door closes. “What is all of this?”

“I know you don’t know what you’re having yet, but I figured whatever you don’t need you could save for the next kid. It’s not like it’ll go out of style, I have great tastes obviously.” Namjoon gestures to himself and laughs before leaning forward. “But seriously, I figured you could just put the boy clothes away until you have a boy, or vice versa.” You ruffle Namjoons’ hair before ignoring the couch and sitting on the floor, reaching for one of the bags in front of you.

He’s gone all out. It takes you thirty minutes to sort through the clothes Namjoon has bought, splitting them by gender and then by age range. You’re finishing folding the last pair of jeans for the boy pile when your phone rings and you’re quick to your feet to grab it as Taehyungs’ ringtone echoes in your kitchen. It ends before you can get to it and as you go to redial, Namjoons’ hands catch your elbows as your knees give out beneath you.

“We need to get you to the hospital.” The room spins as he speaks and his voice sounds garbled, like he’s miles away from you instead of three inches. You drop your phone as you press the heels of your palms against your eyes, shaking your head. “I-I’m okay. It’s just a dizzy spell.”

“Y/N, you’re bleeding.” This, you hear perfectly, words spinning around in your mind as the world slows down. Your eyes dart to the spot you were sitting at on the floor, the bright red stain almost puddling against your light brown hardwood floor. You follow the drips that stop at your current location, red trail marking its way down the legs of your jeans.

“I can’t, that’s not..” You stumble over your words as your mind tries to process what’s happening. You can feel the color drain from your face as your breath quickens and the walls of your home close in on you. Namjoons’ hand is hot against your back, almost too hot as shock settles into your bones and you realize what’s happening as Taehyung walks in through the front door.

“Y/N?!” You can hear the panic in his voice as he rushes over, all but throwing the food you’d asked for on the table. “I’m going to start the car. She needs to go to the hospital.” Taehyungs hands replace Namjoons’ and you find that your body is stiff as he pulls you against him. “I’m going to carry you, put your arms around my neck.”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” Apologies pour from your mouth before you can stop them, body on autopilot as Taehyung lifts you bridal style and holds you to his chest. “Shhh, it’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for.” His voice is soft against your hair as he carries you to the car, instructing Namjoon to grab your purse from the coat rack as he goes to close the door.

Taehyung shuffles into the back seat with you, keeping his fingers laced with yours as Namjoon speeds through traffic, weaving in and out of cars, ignoring the horns that come his way. Your mind races as you try to remember if there was a warning, if there was a pain, something you ignored, but nothing throws itself at you. All you can think of are the piles of clothes you folded and the warmth of Taehyungs hands against your stomach.

 Everything turns to a blur by the time you get to the ER and you’re no longer sure if this is reality or some cruel joke your mind has decided to play on you. Your body trembles, though from the blood loss or the actual temperature of the mid-day fall breeze you don’t know. It’s not until you’re loaded on a stretcher and wheeled through the waiting room that your body goes numb, senses shot into over drive, and the laughter of the little girl you pass who’s sitting with her mother makes your mind shut down as you pass through the double doors of an operating room.

 “Y/N? Can you hear me?” You’re pulled from the memory of cold steel pressed against your skin and back into the too white room, Taehyungs’ eyes wide with worry.

“What did I do wrong?” Your voice finally breaks, bottom lip quivering as the dam breaks. “What did I do? I’m sorry Tae, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I killed our baby.”

Your husband is quick to climb into the hospital bed with you, careful to avoid the wires of your IV. His hands are warm when he pulls you to his chest as your body trembles, sobs racking through your being as you hide your face against his shirt. “You didn’t, my love. You didn’t kill our baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. It just wasn’t time, the world wasn’t ready for them yet. It’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.”

 You don’t say anything as you’re discharged, Taehyung listening carefully as the doctor explains what you can and cannot do, taking the list that’s offered to him. Namjoons’ tired face greets you in the waiting room, giving your hand a squeeze as he says nothing, opening the car door for you as Taehyung pushes you in the wheelchair to the back seat. It smells like lemon and you know that Namjoon has spent the hours you were in hell trying to clean.

The ride back home feels like a nightmare. The sun has set and the moon struggles to shine through the overcast of clouds and you know all too well what that feels like.

Your home has the same lemon scent, and you find yourself grateful this time for it. The living room table is empty, not how you left it and you furrow your brows. “Where are all of the clothes?” Your voice is scratchy, throat raw.

“I put them away…I didn’t think you’d want to look at them.” Namjoon regards you warily, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck as you glare at the once full table. “Take them back, get a refund for them.”

“We can talk about it later, you need to rest.” Taehyung hand is gentle against your elbow, a stark contrast from the way you pull away from him violently. “I don’t want to talk about it later. There’s nothing to talk about. They’re just going to go to waste. Get your money back Namjoon.”

“Keep them.”

“For what? To save for later? There won’t be a later. I’m done. I can’t do that again. I refuse.” You can feel the tears before they well in your tear ducts, the tingling sensation climbing from your cheeks and up your nose. “You heard what she said Taehyung. A twenty five percent chance to make it to full term. Twenty-five. That means three out of four tries are going to end up right back here and I can’t go through that. I can’t sit here and try again just to feel the life we made together die inside me.” Your voice cracks at the last word, and you stumble back against the couch as your legs give out from under you. Taehyung rushes towards you, kneeling down in front of you as you bury your face in your palms.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. We aren’t going to talk about this right now. “

“Just leave me alone. Please.”

“You don’t need to be alone right now.”

“For fucks’ sake, just leave me the fuck alone!” You don’t mean to yell, don’t mean to be this angry, don’t mean to take it out on your best friend or husband, but you do. When it’s clear that neither of them are going to move, you do, finding solace in the bathtub of your extra bathroom.

 It’s hours before Taehyung knocks on the door, silently stepping into the room and sitting in the bathtub across from you, knees touching yours as he plays with your fingers. You don’t know how long the two of you stay like this, the silence growing into something ugly, coating the walls and turning the air around you heavy. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Y/N-“

“I meant what I said Taehyung. I’m not trying again. If you want kids, have them with someone else.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes. I do.” Taehyungs hands stop moving against yours because he knows. He knows you’re serious, knows you’ve made up your mind. If he’s learned anything in the last two years it’s that you don’t go back on your decisions. He sighs as he leans his head back against the shower wall, feeling defeated because he knows.

He knows you’re done.

[stray-kids-in-your-area]

|Never Look Back IV|

⇀ Two runaways meet on a train, neither have a destination ahead of them. All they know is the never want to look back.

Word Count: 1,803

|M.list|

It had only been thirty minutes into your adventure you could already feel yourself wanting to shut down and run. Watching the boy fawn over small objects and get excited at seeing tiny things like a butterfly reminded you of a girl you once knew..  One that you couldn't bear to speak the name of out of fear of the memories still associated with it. You could feel your heart strings being plucked. Shaking your head you tried to clear those thoughts from your mind. Shop after shop, you walked around the town until your knees felt as though they were going to buckle.Not that you minded, it was a welcome distraction from the nagging voice inside of your head that was telling you to turn tail and run before you could give him a real chance.

You had gone to a multitude of shops, from outlets to hole in the wall thrift and record stores. You even stopped a few times to buy yourself some records and a new backpack since the one you currently owned was wearing down to it's last days, having been with you throughout your time at the group home, you it was time to retire it. 

Eventually, you found yourself slowly easing into your time with Felix, his carefree and easy going attitude bringing you comfort when your thoughts wandered too far. The day flew by rather smoothly, leaving little to know time for you to wallow in doubts and fears over this newly formed alliance. It was only when Felix began to whine about his feet hurting that you two stopped at a small park bench. The boy dropped himself down and huffed. “This is so much walking” You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his childishness  poking his cheeks as his lips downturned into a small pout. “This was your idea Lix” You felt yourself freeze as the nickname slipped from your mouth. Slowly but surely you could feel your heart begging to let its walls fall even just a little bit. “Lix?” The boy questioned, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head  sideways. Immediately, you cleared your throat and looked away before he could catch your flustered state,  “I meant Felix, sorry.” you mumbled before standing up and beginning to walk away quickly. Sitting back for a stunned moment, he shook his head and chuckled, “Hey!” He yelled to your retreating form “Wait up!” He yelled as he jogged towards you, a light feeling washing over him at the newly developed nickname.  

Little did he know however, you were mentally cursing yourself for your carelessness. You slipped up, you needed to control yourself before you fell back into the same pit as before..you weren’t going to make the same mistake again. The same thoughts you were certain that you had been able to stave off for the day flooded your mind. Oh, how gravely wrong you were as those thoughts flooded your head without remorse for your psyche. You could feel the oncoming headache. 

  Life has always had funny ways of telling you that you fucked up. “Troublemaker, wild child, ungrateful brat”. Your childhood had been branded with countless titles to describe your unruly behaviour. The empty threats of punishments that poured from the chapped lips of the snobby elderly women who had been assigned to “care” (a term that you would come to find was quite subjective in the foster system) for you in hopes that one of them would be able to tame your rebellious streak. Never allowing your caretakers a moment’s peace by persistently finding things to stick your grubby hands into. Looking back now, you could almost forgive your caretakers for their words..almost. 

However, despite your ardent need to constantly find mischief, there had always been a silver lining. Your silver lining had been a girl named Aurora, someone who you had seen as more than just a partner in crime, or a simple best friend. No, Aurora had been a sister to you, planting herself into the depths of your heart where there had been nothing but a barren wasteland and carefully curating a meadow that overflowed with nothing but love and admiration for your makeshift sister. To your dismay, what had been your silver lining, would also ruin you. 

A hand clapping you on your shoulder had shaken you from your thoughts. “Hey Y/N, is everything alright?” Felix asked, genuine concern clouding his features. Mustering up a smile, you decided that you needed to take a break from yourself and softly nodded, not trusting your voice to speak for you. Sensing the discomfort, Felix flashed another one of his toothy grins and pulled your arm forward, not needing any words to convey that he was about to take you to another one of his favorite places. Smiling softly, your shoulders released tension you didn’t know they were holding and you allowed yourself to follow the rambunctious man leading the way to your next adventure.  

After visiting a few more shops, an Ice cream parlour, and a small diner that served the best dinner you had eaten in weeks, you finally made it back to Felix’s place. Both of you flopped onto his couch, exhausted. Whipping your phone out, you checked the time, glancing to the man sitting beside you who currently had his arm draped over his face you read it out. “1:12 Felix you lied, you said we’d be back by one. It’s twelve minutes past that.” The boy groaned and rolled himself sideways and off the couch. “And you said you were leaving at 10pm. You have NO room to talk.” Scoffing lightly, you playfully kicked his leg. “If my memory serves me right, I clearly remember  when I told you it was close to 10,  you dropped to your knees and begged me to stay longer but I DIGRESS.” Lifting himself up into a sitting position, he nudged your knee at your mocking tone. “Well i’m sorry that I think you’re a cool person and want to hang out with you more. I don’t get why you have to leave so soon.” His lips turning into a small pout yet again. Sighing, you leaned further into the couch before responding to him. “I told you, I have no reason to stay” throwing an arm over your face before settling into the couch. Heavy lids beginning to fall shut as the first tendrils of sleep overtook your body.

 You could hear the boy deeply sigh from his place on the ground. “You know we had some good conversations all night, I told you some things about me yet, I still know absolutely nothing about you except your name..OH and the fact that sarcasm is your only defense” By the sound of his voice, you could almost hear the slight tinge of sadness that came with his words, it made your heart ache to know you had caused it. However, you trumped those feelings down before removing your arm and lifting your head to look at him seriously. “First off-” You lifted your index finger in the air to emphasize your point- “I may be sarcastic but it’s not the only thing I have.” LIfting another finger you counted off again- “secondly why do you need to know anything about me?” you asked, in an “as-a-matter-of-fact” tone. Felix looked down at the couch, picking at the lent and loose seams that had gathered there over the years of use, waiting a moment before speaking once again.  “I don’t need to, but it would be nice to know you more..since we’re friends and all” he mumbled through his pouting lips.  

Friends...The word seeped through the crevices of your tired mind. It made your heart clench. It had been so long since you had a real friend. Everything in you was telling you to trust this boy, to accept him as a new part of your life, and before you knew it the words “I ran away.” flew from your mouth. You felt instant regret at the admission of the words, you knew that this was the last time you’d see him. Why grow closer when you know it’s already over? What the hell were you thinking? You mentally scolded yourself. You could see his blonde tuffs pop up from the floor, his interest piqued as you opened the door for him to peek into your enigmatic life story. After allowing the words to settle in his brain, he looked up to you, locking eyes. “Why?” he asked after a beat of silence. Smiling to yourself, you couldn’t help but chuckle, “That’s a pressing question.” you quipped back sarcastically. “You’re right, don’t answer that; but how come that means you have to leave here?” He asked, voice filled with genuine curiosity. “I want to travel.” The lies rolling off of your tongue, hoping that maybe just maybe, you new friend could see through it, I’m running. “I want to see everything i can see and that doesn’t happen by staying in one place.” I fear that if I stay too long, you may become another Aurora. Your head was pounding too much, the thoughts you had tried to suppress all day surging to the forefront of your mind. “Is that one of the reasons you left?” Sighing, you nudged the man gently, “Felix.” you said, tone set in a warning. “ Right, right sorry. I don’t mean to pry, it just worries me to think that you’re running from something.” Your breath hitched. A foreign feeling of confusion and anguish surging through your body, as you felt your walls beginning to go back up. He had seen right through you, read you like an open book.

 “Why do you care so much? We’ve only barely met.” you spat defensively. The look on his face never changing from the calm expression even as you tensed up and spoke harshly. Smiling softly, he laid on his back and looked up at the ceiling. “And yet you spent an entire day with me and are currently sitting on my couch.” He said, gesturing to your sprawled body. “Listen, I care because you remind me so much of someone I met before.”- His voice cracking a bit, as he stopped for a minute, as if trying to control his emotions before speaking again. “I haven't seen him or heard from him since he left. He always claimed the same..he had no reason to stay.” The sadness radiating from his words unmistakable as he talked about the man. Now, it was you whose interest was piqued. “What was his name?” you asked. Felix looked to you, breaking his gaze away from the ceiling, mischief and mirth settling across his handsome features. “A secret for a secret?”

——————————————-- ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ——————————————

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[returntoinocense]

The way you make me feel

Penny Haywood x Slytherin fem!mc warnings: none word count: 3315 Part 1 Part 2 A/N: No beta we post our drafts like men, my mental health is taking a toll on me please don’t hate me D: I didn’t want to leave you hanging and it was getting a little too long for my taste so I’m posting the end in two parts.

Also big thanks to @dratin-dragonadetinta96 for putting up with my bullshit.

Finally the day to go back home for the holidays has come. The platform was crowded with students. You were really excited and nervous but mostly nervous. Penny’s parents agreed to let her go to your family’s Christmas party; your relationship with her was no secret to her parents and they were really happy for the both of you.

Penny was going to stay at the manor for at least three days, the rest she was going to spend it with her family.

You communicated your parents that you were bringing a friend with you for the party so you wouldn’t get bored like most years, and they accepted without much discussion. It was surprising to say the least, but it couldn’t make you happier that they agreed. It was the first time that you brought someone over that wasn’t Rowan, though something quite unpleasant settled at the pit of your stomach.

You were going over every possible scenario in your head while idly going over your luggage, when a hand on your shoulder distracted you; turning around you notice Rowan softly smiling at you.

“Hey… what’s got you so troubled, you look ghostly?” Rowan asked worry plastered on her face. You look at her giving a sad smile.

“I’m just a little stressed that’s all, nothing to worry about” you said dismissing your friend’s worry who just crossed her arms and looked at you incredulous. You sighed, your stiff shoulders dropping a little and finally, spoke your mind.

“I’ve been analyzing every possible scenario of how my parents could react once they realize what’s been happening and honestly, I don’t see a lot of good outcomes” you look at her a little defeated and continue “all I can hope for is that they won’t do anything drastic, I don’t care what happens to me I’m more worried about Penny”

Rowan hugged you tightly and without letting you go they said “Everything will work out just fine, you’ll see. Even though your parents are a little bit fanatics they still love you, I know that they’ll want you to be happy” she rubs soothing circles on your back. You relax on her embrace and hug her back before gently pulling back to look at her.

“Thank you Rowan, I can always count on you to make me feel better” you smile noticing Penny, Tonks, Tulip, Barnaby and Charlie walking towards you.

“You weren’t leaving without me were you?” Penny said nudging your side and kissing your cheek.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Pens” you said smiling and sliding your arm on her waist pulling her closer. Rowan and the rest smiled at both of you.

“Are you all going home for the holidays?” you asked curiously, surprised that you didn’t ask sooner.

“Tonks and I are staying; we’ve got some mischief to do” Tulip first answered pulling Tonks closer to her and winking. “We are probably going to get into a lot of trouble. But I can’t pass another opportunity to mess with Flitch” Tonks continued, giggling.

You shake your head at them smiling, wishing that you could see what they were preparing for that poor man, not that you liked him but you could only pity him, after all being the target of those pranks couldn’t be the best thing in the world.

“Well guess it’s going to be fun for you guys, you better write about it, I really need to know how it goes” Penny says giggling.

“Yeah don’t have too much fun without us” Charlie said suddenly looking at you with his eyes wide open “Oh! I almost forgot” he pulled a little package from his satchel an gave it to you “Mom wanted me to give you these, they are matching mittens, for both of you” he smiled “and she also said that you are always welcome at the burrow if you ever need a place to stay or if you just want to visit” the last part was directed at you, specifically, and you knew it, you smiled and hugged him, Penny joining in a second later.

“Thanks, I’ll make sure to write” you said enthusiastically “Are you joining us in the train? You asked hopeful.

“Oh…no” he said sadly “I’m going to be with my brother Percy and there are already three of you in that compartment”

“Oh that’s alright” Penny said a little sad “what about you Barnaby? Are you joining us?” he was looking around kind of lost but quite fixated on Rowan, noticing the attention turning to him he straighten up and looked at Penny.

“Yeah sure” he said smiling and scratching the back of his neck “I’d love to”

“Perfect, now that that’s settled why don’t we start getting on board, I’m getting a little anxious of just standing around” it came out a little ruder than you intended which got you a few strange looks. You shrugged “Sorry I’m a little on edge” at that Penny held your hand and smiled at you.

“It’s going to be fine, don’t worry” you nodded and squeezed her hand a little.

 You said your goodbyes and boarded the train finding your compartment and just throwing your backpack in there sort of to claim it and flopped down on the seat. Barnaby, Rowan and Penny followed close behind. Penny tapped your legs from the seat and sat close to you a smile on her face.

“I can’t believe we are spending Christmas together as a couple” she said grabbing your arm and shaking it a little.

“Yeah I hope you like my house, we are also going to see Barnaby at the party right?” you look at him and Rowan “You know you can bring anyone you want with you as your date or friend I don’t know…” you said know full well that he fancied Rowan.

“So anyone I want huh?” he said side eying Rowan and blushing a little “It’s going to be fun, will you go with me Rowan?”

It amused you how much Rowan got flustered at the sudden invitation; you looked at Penny in complicity and grinned.

Rowan fixed her glasses and looked down blushing “I… uh y-yes” she composed herself and spoke surer of herself “Yes, I’d love to” she smiled at him and then made a face at you and Penny, you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Awn that’s so cute” you said snuggling with Penny “Finally, after so many years, it’s gonna be a fun Christmas” you said with a sad smile, wishing Jacob was there to share it with him, the discomfort coming back to you a little. But even though you still haven’t found him, you gained a lot of friends that feel as if they were your siblings specially Rowan, she was your best friend, and seeing her getting flustered and with that stupid grin on her face after Barnaby asked her out, made your current uneasiness all the more bearable it.

***

The rest of the trip you enjoyed some treats from the trolley and sat in comfortable silence watching how Barnaby fell asleep on Rowan’s shoulder. He shook awake as the train stopped at King’s Cross. Penny said her parents were going to wait for you at the station to pick up Beatrice and to greet both of you; after all they wanted to meet the person that Penny speaks so highly of.

Penny and you parted ways with Rowan and Barnaby shortly after getting your luggage.

To say you felt nervous was an understatement, you were sweating and your mouth was dry like the desert. Penny was pulling you by the hand evading the people on the platform to where her parents were. “Relax you big dork they are gonna love you” she said noticing your stiffness. “it’s not like you are gonna have dinner with them or something” she said with a smile and suddenly you remembered that she must be feeling them same nervousness as you are but multiplied since she’s gonna spend a few days in your house.

You stood still as Penny greeted her parents with a hug; you looked at her lovingly when she turned around and extended her hand to you.

“Mom, dad, this is Y/N Y/LN, my girlfriend” she said with the most beautiful and proud smile you’ve ever seen, kind of like the one she makes when nailing a potion but brighter. You took her hand and slowly but surely got closer and nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you, I hope you don’t mind me stealing your daughter this Christmas” immediately after saying that you felt awkward. Mr. Haywood crossed his arms glaring at you and making you feel small for a second before he embraces you in a tight hug, lifting you from the ground and laughing a little.

“Ha-ha! I like you kid, though it makes me sad that we won’t spend Christmas together. I’m glad that I can see her smiling like that again” he put you down carefully as Mrs. Haywood approached and hugged you briefly smiling. You sighed in relief and smiled back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t extend the invitation for the whole family” you look down “but I’m afraid my parents don’t know about the actual state of our relationship and well they can be a little…” you looked at them apologetically “intolerant…” The Haywood’s looked at each other and nodded, Mrs. Haywood leaned in.

“Well dear, you are always welcome at our home” she put a reassuring hand on your shoulder and grinned. “I know it’s early but here’s your Christmas gift and yours too hunny” she handed you and Penny one package each. “Don’t open until Christmas” Mr. Haywood leaned on your ear and whispered “Seriously don’t open it”. Beatrice soon joined the scene hugging her parents and then Penny. She looked at you and walked close looking at you with her head held high point her finger at you.

“This is the first time I’m spending Christmas without my sister, you better take care of her or else” she glared at you and walked back to her parents who giggled. Penny shook her head and grabbed your hand. You smiled at her as you felt something pull at your coat, looking down you notice your house elf, Solry with an inpatient look on his face.

“Master Y/LN, you are thirty minutes behind schedule” raising your eyebrows you looked at your watch and then at Penny’s parents apologetically.

“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry, time just went by so quickly, I’m afraid we have to go my parents don’t appreciate delays” you shrunk yours and Penny’s luggage with reducio saving it in your backpack. “it’s been a pleasure meeting you, expect mail from us, we have a long way to Gales” you waved them goodbye and waited for Penny to say her goodbyes then pulled her by the hand following the house elf to wherever place your father decided to put the portkey. You look at Penny a little worried.

“Have you ever travelled by portkey?”

“Uh… not really, why?”

“Well you could experience nausea and dizziness. Oh and we have to grab it at the same time, just a heads up” you smiled as you arrived at the location and the elf pointed at a serpent statue, of course, you thought. You looked at Penny and signaled her to touch it without letting go of her hand.

A few moments later you arrived at a field near a cliff falling onto your back, Penny almost falling on top of you. Slowly you got up and cleared the dust from your clothes extending a hand to Penny who takes it a little disoriented.

“Are you okay?” you ask noticing her sudden pale face.

“Ugh…I think I left my stomach in London” she said clinging to your hand and placing her free hand on her mouth. A second later she let go of your hand to support he weight on her knees. You looked at her with a little pity.

“Yeah, sorry about that, it takes some time to get used to, I use it all the time and I still can’t get the landing right” you scratched the back of your head nervously then rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“I’m alright, I’m alright” she said as she looked up at you “Where are we?”

“Oh, we are on Y/LN manor grounds” you pointed to the big manor down the hill “it’s a small island, my father used a concealment charm to avoid muggles running into our house, or so he says, so we don’t have neighbors but I do like to sneak out to the small fishing village up north” you said with a fond smile.

“Oh alright… I … uh suddenly don’t feel like this was such a good idea” she said with a hint of fear on her voice.

“Well, we are already here and whatever happens, happens I guess…” you locked eyes with her “just know that I don’t regret being with you. With you I feel like I can overcome anything, no matter what it is and that I will always support you” Penny hugged you tightly.

“Thank you, Y/N, we can do this” you hugged her back and she kissed your lips “we should get going, we are already late aren’t we?” you kissed back and looked at Solry tapping his foot on the ground waiting for you to get going.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, it’s not the first time I’m late” you told him “if I could appear there at will I would of done that” the elf glares at you and banishes, you giggle and start walking towards the mansion with Penny close behind.

The manor looked centuries old, it rose from the ground as a proud example of the people that lived there, stoic yet vehement with a superiority air to it. Two Hungarian horntail dragon statues sat at each side of the main gate that opened for you as you got close to it. Penny looked at you as if questioning the choice for that particular decoration. You felt her gaze on you and shrugged looking straight ahead where both your parents stood, waiting at the door.

“Father is Hungarian” she looked at you suspiciously but said nothing as she noticed how tense you were.

“Y/N, Miss Haywood, I presume?” your father’s thick Hungarian accent greeted you both as he extended his hand to Penny, which she shook nervously.

“You can call me Penny… if you’d like” she said with a shy smile. Your father only nodded and gestured inside as he took a step back.

“You must be freezing and tired” your mother started “please, come inside there’s tea and biscuits” she said eagerly as she took Penny gently by the shoulder to guide her inside. “We can discuss sleeping arrangements and...” she looked at Penny who was wearing mainly muggle clothes “appropriate attire over tea” she looked down at her clothes, then at you mouthing what’s wrong with it? You just shook your head and shrugged.

***

“When you said you lived in a manor I didn’t think it was going to be…” Penny said gesturing vaguely at the room she was going to stay in, while she unpacked her belongings “…this. Your dad is scary. Your mom seems nice though”  

“Even after judging you by how you were dressed? Even after the face she made when you told her you are half-blood?” you crossed your arms.

“Well, awkward conversation aside, I have a good feeling about her” she smiled, left all her stuff on the bed and crossed the distance to kiss your cheek “Will you be a dear and help me?” you blushed and nodded.

“We can do a little tour before dinner if you’d like” you held both of Penny’s hands and leaned in a little waiting for Penny to kiss you. But you were interrupted by the door flinging open. You instantly put a respectful distance between you and Penny, as your mother stood by the door frame with a surprised look on her face. Clearing her throat she began.

“If you girls are ready we are going to have dinner earlier so we can begin preparations early in the morning” she looked at both of you with suspicion. You looked at each other and nodded. “And Penny dear, I brought you some appropriate clothing; I believe they are you size” you grabbed the clothes with annoyance and Penny gently took them from you before you could say anything.

“Thank you Mrs. Y/LN, we’ll be right there” she smiled at your mother as she closed the door.

“Ugh, she has no right to tell you how to dress” you said throwing your hands in the air in frustration “you look just fine like that” you looked at her apologetically.

“It’s okay I can handle it, it’s just clothes” she said with a sad smile.

“You shouldn’t have to” you sighed and hugged her tightly and she hugged you back.

“Let’s not keep them waiting”

***

The next morning, you went straight to Penny’s room, getting in without knocking, in hopes to wake her up for breakfast, little did you know she was just out of the shower with only a towel covering her.

“Oh…” she said wide eyed as she threw a pillow at your face “Are you an animal!?” she yelled blushing and pulling the blanket from her bed towards herself “why don’t you knock?” you covered your eyes and turn around.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to… I wanted to surprise you” your face turned beet read and you couldn’t move.

“You damn well did, close the door at least you big dork!” she sighed as you closed the door “I’m changing in the bathroom” you heard the door to the bathroom close a little too violently and sighed cursing yourself for being so careless. Turning around you picked up the pillow, walked towards the bed, setting the pillow at the head and sitting waiting for Penny to come out.

“Pens…” you started, fidgeting with your fingers “I didn’t mean to startle you”

“I know” came her voice through the door “I’m just a little on edge, I had a nightmare” her voice didn’t sound convinced.

“You wanna talk about it?” something told you she wasn’t entirely honest, your mother’s words probably affected her more than she let on.

“Not at the moment, I just want to move on and have some breakfast, I’m starving” at that the door opened and she was dressed with her normal clothes and hair still a little damp. You smiled at her, getting up from the bed and kissing her lips.

“Breakfast is served, mother is nowhere to be seen and father left early in the morning”

“Well that’s a relief, we can breathe a little, but… we need to tell them at some point you know?” she looked down and held your hand.

“Yes, I know” you sighed “let’s just… let’s eat first and get ready for the day, mother said someone was coming over later today”

 As you got downstairs, you heard the double doors open, Solry was greeting two hooded figures that soon became clear who they were, Merula and someone you assumed was her caretaker. What is she doing here? You thought, but you knew better than to make a scene.

“You are early…” you told her. Penny stopped next to you, letting go of your hand and keeping her hands to herself, at which she smiled wickedly.

“Ah, looks like I just made it for breakfast” she said with a sarcastic tone “Your mother was very nice to arrange my trip here, we get along pretty well” she winked and you crossed your arms.

“Yeah… it looks like it” you sighed and guided her towards the dining room.

[chibinightowl]

Self Indulgence

Today is apparently National Cake Decorating Day and I couldn’t think of a better way to mark the occasion than writing this bit of fluff set after the end of Sweet Treats (Bakery AU). Hope you enjoy!

~*~*~

Approximately ten months later...

“Why am I doing this again?”

“Because you’re an idiot who can’t say no.”

“You’re not helping.” Tim stares in despair at the spongy layers of cake that refuse to do what he wants them to. He knows they can since he’s pulled this off before, but today… “What the hell am I doing wrong?”

This is why Tim doesn’t do special events and last minute requests. It all goes to hell in a handbasket in no time flat. Although a case can be made about how everything turns out alright in the end. Case in point, his boyfriend of almost a year standing here laughing at him.

Jason leans against the metal prep table and crosses his arms, eyeing the mess of cake and buttercream with a critical eye. “No idea, but it looks edible to me.”

Closing his eyes, Tim counts to ten and takes a deep breath. Does it again, backwards. In Spanish. French. German. Even Japanese because dammit, he can count to at least ten in a lot of languages just to prove to Ives that he could.

Right. He’s got this. It’s just a last minute request from Bruce for a cake that needs to feed about twenty people that all happen to be super heroes of the highest order. Because apparently, even Batman is occasionally responsible for bringing refreshments to a Justice League meeting.

“Why couldn’t I just give him a few dozen cupcakes and call it a day?” Tim mutters. The cake isn’t firm enough for what he wants it to do. He needs to start over. Again.

“You’re the one who jumped up and down and practically wet himself over the chance to make a cake for the League.”

This may be somewhat accurate. Tim’s inner fanboy almost passed out when Bruce called earlier, interrupting his and Jason’s day off, to ask if he could have a cake ready for this evening. Jason wasn’t happy when Tim said yes and dragged them to the closed shop so he could start creating.

Before Tim has a chance to get a new batter started, Jason grabs hold of him and tugs him away from the remains of his not-so-glorious creation.

“What?” Tim asks, but Jason shushes him as he envelopes Tim in his arms.

“I know this is a big deal for you and all, but seriously, you can chill out. This is like the equivalent of a PTA or board meeting. Your cake is just going to sit on a table in the mess hall for anyone who happens to pass by and take a slice.”

Tim deflates against Jason’s broad chest, the wind gone from his sails. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he complains.

“Because I love watching you get your mad scientist on.”

Punching Jason in the stomach hurts Tim’s hand more than it hurts him, but he does it anyway. “You’re such an asshole.”

“It’s how I show I care.” Jason presses a kiss against Tim’s temple. “Come on, I know you can fix this.”

Tim knows he can too. He also knows how to get a suitable revenge later once he’s done. But first, cake.

~*~*~

It doesn’t turn out too badly, Tim decides an hour later as he gazes down at his creation. Sure it’s not one of his best, but considering the time constraints and his driving need for utter perfection, the pumpkin-shaped cake looks pretty good.

“I still think I could have sculpted it,” Tim states as he carves the outline of a bat symbol across the face of the cake.

“I’m sure you could have, given more time,” Jason replies, finally looking up from his book. He’d wisely retreated to Tim’s nook of an office to leave him be after diverting him from his earlier meltdown.

Tim carefully sets the black fondant bat he’d made onto the cake. Against the brilliant orange frosting, it stands out just as it does in Gotham’s night sky. “I just need to glaze this really quick and stick it in the fridge to set. Bruce is supposed to be here in what? An hour?”

Jason checks his watch and nods. “About that, yeah. He hates these things, so he’ll probably be late, especially if he has to bring snacks for the kiddies.”

Over the last year, Tim has learned more about the super hero community than he could shake a stick at. Some of the stories are funny. Others are completely hilarious. Many are sad and tragic. One thing has been made glaringly clear to him though. The Bats of Gotham, these all-too-human heroes who stand shoulder to shoulder with powerful aliens and demigods and metahumans, have absolutely zero sense of awe over how fucking cool it is that they get to call Superman and Wonder Woman by their real names.

Then again, Tim’s the one who regularly gets into it with Batman over how he needs to incorporate more sugar-free options into his repertoire because he’s giving his children cavities. It’s not his fault that Dick and Damian, and even Cassandra when she’s in town, like to stop by the bakery more than is probably good for them. This is what he does for a living. Making sweet, indulgent treats for those who can afford them and feel like tossing sense and their diets out the window for the sake of a cupcake.

Tim finishes up and the cake is soon chilling in the fridge. Not for the first time, he wonders why Bruce had him make a cake rather than Alfred or just stopping by the grocery store to pick up a cheap sheetcake for all the apparent care he has for this upcoming meeting. The mind of Bruce Wayne is not one Tim cares to delve into often.

Jason joins him at the sink, sneaking glances every so often as he helps Tim wash up. Tim tries not to smirk because he knows exactly what has his attention. There is a smear of frosting on his cheek from where he may have accidently brushed it earlier when he was done decorating. Even after almost a year, Jason still has a complete and utter fascination with licking frosting and whatever else that’s possibly edible from Tim’s body.

Revenge is still in the back of his mind, but it’s not often they have a chance to fool around in the shop anymore. Not with their crazy schedules. That’s why Sunday nights and Mondays are practically sacred for them. This is their time together and Tim completely understands why Jason is peeved that Bruce interrupted it. He can be forgiven if he tries to seduce his boyfriend by way of frosting as a means of apologizing.

Almost everything is washed and put away before Jason makes a move, boxing Tim against the prep table. “I think you have something on your face,” he says, his gaze locked onto Tim’s cheek.

“Do I?” Tim bats his eyes innocently. “How clumsy of me.”

Jason grins and steals what is clearly meant to be a quick kiss, but Tim latches onto him and drags it out into something much longer. He loves the way Jason tastes and could easily spend all evening right here simply worshipping his mouth. However, there’s something else he wants more.

“Someone’s eager,” Jason teases, fingers already starting to toy with Tim’s apron strings. “Whatcha got in mind?”

Tim reaches under his apron to unbuckle his belt. “We’ve got about thirty minutes. You tell me.”

“Hard and fast now, then when we get home, I’ll make you dinner since I was kind of a dick earlier. I should have said something sooner about that cake.”

Tim kisses Jason again to seal the deal. “As long as you’re wearing nothing but the apron I bought you for your birthday, that works for me.”

It’s cute and frilly and was meant as a joke, but Jason loves the damn thing and Tim can’t get enough of seeing him and his ass in it.

Jason presses even harder against Tim, trapping his hands between them. “Done. Now turn around so I can make you feel good before Bruce interrupts us again.”

“He has a way of doing that.”

“He’s fucking Batman, of course he does.”

[hovercraft79]

Winter Song

Ch 32 It’s a Beautiful Day

Chapters: 32/31 Word Count: 1,336 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Rating: Teen Warnings: None Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve Day and Pippa can’t wait to start her day – and her year – with Hiccup. She just hopes Hecate feels the same way.

Notes: I still have about 4 more prompts to do. They’re coming just as fast as I can. 

U2’s song, of course. It’s seems a perfect start for a new year.

 Happy New Year’s All – especially to @cassiopeiasara for putting this thing together. Thank you so much for this opportunity!

Sparky’s back!!! But she slept in and so this is wild and free from her discipline.

This is actually part 2 of the NYE prompt. The two parts will be properly joined together when it gets moved to AO3.

Pippa eased her bedroom door open, slowly tilting her head around and sneaking a peek at Hecate. For a heart-jarring moment, she thought that Hecate had gone. Ignoring the twinge in her ankle, Pippa lurched towards the enlarged sofa, stopping short when she heard a soft snort. Pippa edged closer, the corner of her mouth lifting as she took in the sight before her.

Despite what most people thought, Hecate was not an ‘early to bed, early to rise’ sort of witch. No. Sleep had always been difficult for Hecate, whether it was due to anxiety, nightmares, or her own restless magic constantly humming beneath her skin. But when sleep did come for Hecate, it came hard.

Left to her own devices, Pippa knew that Hecate would be entirely nocturnal. Even as a girl, Hecate had been a creature of the moon and stars far more than she had ever been a creature of the sun.

She also, though Pippa knew she would deny it, took any opportunity for a lie-in very seriously. Hecate was serious about a great many things but sleep most of all. This morning, Hecate had burrowed so far into Pippa’s sofa that she had all but disappeared. Only a tiny tip of Hecate’s braid peeped out from under the pillow. 

Pippa grinned as warmth flooded her chest. This, at least, was old, familiar territory. She loosed a thin stream of magic into the fireplace, setting it to crackling once again, and tiptoed into her kitchen. Compact but functional, Pippa’s kitchen had everything she needed to prepare even elaborate meals. It more than sufficed for what she needed this morning.

Humming softly, Pippa set to work, readying the tea set for later, but first brewing up a strong pot of coffee. She’d shopped earlier, as soon as Hecate had agreed to come for New Year’s, and she was well-stocked on pastries, fruits and compotes, as well as fresh yoghurt. With a flick of her hand, Pippa heated the oven. A second flick summoned a baking sheet and a ham and cheese quiche. Once, that was heating, Pippa arranged everything else on a tray and crept back into the living room, setting the tray on her coffee table as quietly as possible.

A moment later and Pippa was on her knees at the end of her sofa, holding a steaming cup of coffee near where she guessed Hecate’s head would be. “Hiccup? I’ve brought coffee. And breakfast.” Gingerly, Pippa touched what she hoped was Hecate’s back and started rubbing gently. “It’s a beautiful day, Hiccup. I know you don’t want to miss any of it.” She stilled her hand when she felt Hecate take a deep breath, but she didn’t take it away. “That’s it, darling. Coffee’s waiting.” She waved the mug a bit so the aroma would waft around more before setting it on the coffee table with the rest of breakfast. “Come on, Hiccup, let me see those beautiful brown eyes of yours.” The blankets stirred, albeit slightly. “Good girl.” She started rubbing Hecate’s back again, using a little more pressure. The fact that she could have been doing this for the last thirty years gnawed at a dark corner of her brain, but she refused to give it any purchase. Instead, she focused on the possibility of doing this for the next thirty years.

The timer dinged from the kitchen. “I’ll be right back, darling.” Pippa rushed to pull the quiche from the oven. When she returned a few minutes later, a very disheveled Hecate was sitting up, blinking slowly as she looked around the room. “There’s my girl,” Pippa said, warmly. She set the quiche on the tray and handed Hecate the coffee. “I wasn’t sure how you take it, I only know how you like your tea.”

“Black.” Hecate reached for the mug, holding it against her chest and breathing in the aroma. “Caffeine. Pure.”

Pippa giggled and brushed a strand of hair from Hecate’s forehead. She knew Hecate was still more asleep than awake when she didn’t stiffen in the slightest. “Well, then I made it just right, didn’t I?” She pulled the pale pink woven blanket off the end of the sofa and tucked it around Hecate. “There. We don’t want you getting a chill, do we?” She watched Hecate as she finally took a sip of her coffee.

“Did you do all of this?” Hecate nodded at the breakfast tray. “You didn’t need to go to all of this trouble.” She set her mug down on the coffee table. “I really should be getting back to Cackle’s. I’ve taken up enou—”

“Stop. Please, don’t do that, Hiccup.” Pippa fussed with the blanket. “Yes. I did all of this. For you. For us. I have the privilege of spending the first day of the new year with my very favorite person.” She watched the worry in Hecate’s eyes shift slowly into disbelief then amazement. Finally, she saw the barest dip of Hecate’s chin. “Now, stop trying to cut it short and hand me a plate before the quiche gets cold.”

“We’re witches, Pipsqueak. We can heat it up again.” She ran her eyes up and down the pink flannel pajamas. Tiny donuts were printed all over. “Nice pajamas.”

“That we can, Hiccup. And thank you. Your purple ones are nice, too.” Crisis of faith averted, Pippa sliced into the quiche, serving it up with a lemon poppyseed muffin and a dollop of yoghurt. “Here you go. Nothing too sweet.” They ate in companionable silence for a while, listening to the crackling fire. “Do you have anything special you do on New Year’s Day, Hiccup?” Pippa asked at last. She realized again how much of one another’s lives they’d missed. Was she keeping Hecate from something important to her? “I guess I should have asked that before I bullied you into staying.”

The fork paused halfway to Hecate’s mouth then slowly lowered back to the plate. “I usually spend the day reading or organizing my cupboards. I might have tea with Ada if she hasn’t any other plans.” She took a steadying breath before continuing. “I could hardly call it bullying if the thing you want me to do is something I want to do as well.” Hecate smiled and looked down quickly, studying her slice of quiche intently before taking another bite.

Pippa was smiling too hard to eat. Or drink her coffee. Or do much of anything except enjoy the fact that Hecate wanted to be here. With her. Finally, she shook herself out of her happy haze. “I wonder then, Hiccup, if you’d care to take part in one of my favorite New Year’s Day traditions?”

“Certainly… Is it a chant or a ritual?”

“Oh, no, Hiccup… nothing like that.” She cocked her head to the side, thinking about it. “Well… maybe it is a bit of a ritual.” She held her hand out and summoned the remote control for her television. “Have you ever seen the Rose Parade? It’s in California, in America.”

“I know where California is, Pip. And no, why would I have seen an Ordinary parade?”

“The Ordinaries may do it, Hiccup, but it’s far from ordinary. Every float must be completely covered in plant material. You’ll love it.” Pippa held up the remote, enticingly. “What do you say?”

Hecate shook her head indulgently. “Very well, Pipsqueak. Let’s see if these Ordinaries even know the proper names for the plants.”

Pippa clicked through the menu, watching Hecate out of the corner of her eye as she followed her every move. Did Hecate even have a television? “Here we go.” She tossed the remote down on the sofa and leaned back, summoning her tea again.

Before Pippa could settle in, Hecate cleared her throat and lifted the edge of her blanket. “We’d wouldn’t want you to get a chill, either, would we?”

“We certainly wouldn’t,” she said, scooting towards Hecate and under the blanket. “We wouldn’t want that at all.”

[xmenimagine]

Imagine: What It’s Like To Be Alive.

Requested by Anon. Includes: Warren Worthington III x Reader. Request: * DUDE LIKE, YOUR FICS ARE THE BEST IVE SEEN!! I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOUR WARREN WORTHINGTON AND WONDERED IF YOU COULD DO MORE WITH HIM?! HAVE A LOVELY DAY! ❤️❤️

Note: Getting back into writing again, so, hopefully, I’ll be able to make a few imagines for both my accounts. Fingers crossed. Also, I didn’t specify the mutation that you have. Kinda a mess tho??

    Warren had that stupid smirk on his face that was just asking to be swiped off. It wasn't unusual for him to turn up to your room, while you were trying to get at least some of your homework done before he talked you out of it and got you to follow him to whoever it was that he wanted to go to that night. He sat on your desk chair while you sat on your bed, papers spaced out in front of you while highlighters, that barely worked, littered your bed and half of your floor. Obviously, he couldn't sit on the chair like you could, his wings got in the way, so he sat with the back of the chair against his chest, his arms resting on the top of it as his head was laying on his arms. With the shake of your head, you tried to ignore his presence and finish off one of the many pieces you had.

    "That's not even due till next week, take a break, babe," Warren hoped that reminding you would get you to take a break.

    After glancing up at him, barely lifting your head, only looking through your lashes, with a blank expression, you looked back down, highlighting one of the sentences before picking up your pen to write an answer. Warren groaned, resting his forehead on his arms, closing his eyes as he heard the pen move across the page.

    "Babe, you and I both know that ignoring me only lasts about three minutes before the sound of my voice constantly nagging at you gets you to leave this room with me."

    "Not tonight, Warren."

    "Are you angry at me for writing on your book earlier?"

    "Which one? The one that now says; 'ITchy sewer daddy' instead of 'IT' or the one that says; 'Warren Peace' instead of 'War and Peace'?"

    "Okay, but you have to admit, if they made a Stephen King movie remake of IT called 'Itchy sewer daddy', you would go and watch it."

    "Warren…" You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing loudly. "Why don't you go ask Kurt to hang out?"

    "Because I don't want to make out with Kurt?"

    You raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't have thought that after you two got pretty close the other day."

    "What? You mean when I was trash talking him before training?"

    "If that's your idea of trash talking—"

    "Don't finish that sentence, babe."

    A light smile tugged at your lips. "Go away, Warren."

    "I'm breaking you, just give me another minute—" He pointed at you. "No. Wait. Thirty seconds. Just give me another thirty seconds to prove that I am, in fact, irresistible to you."

    "How about I just jam this pen into my neck?"

    "That's not one of my options." Warren raised an eyebrow. "Don't talk back to me with that sarcastic tone, babe, you know it gets me going."

    With a groan, you laid back on your bed. "Leave!" You yelled.

    "I still have twenty seconds." He shrugged.

    "Great, so you're going to waste twenty seconds of my life?"

    "As opposed to?"

    "I can feel my youth slipping away from me. The grey hairs are already dominating the rest of my head. My skin is wrinkling and sagging as we speak."

    "Stop using up the rest of my ten seconds being dramatic." He laughed.

    "Times almost up. When it is, you leave."

    "No. I'll just get closer."

    You screamed, picking up the pillow from behind your head to cover your face. Warren's laughter still managed to echo through the pillow as he got closer, removing it from your head with a grin as his shaggy, blond curls fell in front of his face. It wouldn't be long before he forced you to give him another haircut.

    "Save the screaming until later, babe, and stop trying to suffocate yourself before we've had some fun."

    "Fun? Warren, your idea of fun is making me go into some abandoned building just so you can pretend to 'save' me and reward yourself with kisses."

    "It works every time." He grinned.

    "How about we just stay here tonight? Or, better yet, you leave and I stay here to finish my work."

    Warren stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry. "Boring," he chimed.

    "Times up."

   "Oh, c'mon, babe." He groaned, getting on your bed as you sat up to finish your work.

    "No."

    "Please?" He whined.

    "Let me think about it."

    "Great!"

    "No."

    Warren groaned. "Baby, please!" He whined again, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

    "Warren, I'm working."

    You could hear him huff, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Fine. But I'm not moving."

    You tried to shrug, but it was difficult with his head resting on the right one. "Whatever."

    "Are you done yet?"

    "How about I jam this pen into your neck instead."

    "Oh, and then what?"

    Warren laughed when you screamed again, throwing your pen down on your bed. His arms tightened around you as he pulled you back, just enough so you were leaning on him. You covered your face with your hands.

    "I love you." He chuckled, leaning his head against yours.

    "I know."

    "Okay, Han, can we go do something now?"

    "Fine." He cheered to himself. "Only because you finally got the reference."

    "It only took ten months of making me watch the same movie over and over again for me to finally get it."

    "It would have taken Kurt one." You smirked, standing up once you felt his arms loosen around your waist.

    "Baby," he said quietly, his hands gripping your waist once more, stopping you from moving. "Don't say that."

    "Why? It's true." You laughed, obviously joking—which he was as well.

    "That's only because he would have been watching the movie, not staring at you like I do."

    Turning around, rather awkwardly, you cupped his face in your hands. "I know."

    "So, we go out now?"

    "Yeah," you told him, sighing, hating that you caved in. "Just no scaring me."

    "How else do I get you to kiss me?"

    "By kissing me first? Or asking?" You laughed, putting your jacket and shoes on as he stood up from the bed.

    "That works?"

    "Asking if you can kiss me is way more attractive than scaring me into kissing you."

    "Really?"

    You hummed. "Let's just say it gets me going." Turning away from him, you turned the light off and walked out of your room.

    "Wait! Seriously?" He yelled, running after you.

    "Sure."

    "I'll keep that in mind."

    "I hope you do." You smiled, feeling his hand slip into yours as you walked down the corridor to the stairs to leave.

-

    It had been a task to try and stop Warren from going down one of the children's slides at the park. It was unknown to you how you even managed to end up there, but Warren seemed to have persuaded you, like always. His metal wings barely allowed him to swing on the swings, obviously stopping the air from getting passed him for him to be able to swing. At the very least, he was able to mess around on the monkey bars and the climbing frame—he wasn't pleased that he couldn't use the seesaw because of how heavy his wings were.

    "I'm the king of the world!" Warren yelled from the top of the climbing frame.

    "You look like the Angel on top of a Christmas tree." You laughed, barely able to pull yourself up to climb as you were laughing so hard at him.

    "That's not very nice, babe. I'm royalty."

    "Yeah, a royal pain in the ass." You laughed again, having to hold on tightly to the ropes as even the smallest glimpse of him standing at the very top with his hand resting on his hips set you off into fits of laughter.

    "Well, you're not joining me up here," he called down to you.

    "I can't even breathe," you barely managed to reply through the laughter.

    "Yeah, yeah." He waved you off.

    Deciding it was better to not fall and break something, you climbed back down. "I can't even look at you!"

    "Why? Because you're blinded by my beauty?"

    "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I'm not beholding you, Warren."

    "Rude," you managed to hear him say a lot quieter. "I'm staying up here." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You can't make me come down!"

    "I'm not going to, I'm going to go use the slide."

    "Hey! If I can't then you can't!"

    "Okay, then that rule applies to your castle."

    Warren groaned, jumping off the top, slowly making his way down. You could hear the metal of his wings stop as he landed. "Fine, then you're coming with me."

    "What?" You turned around to face him just before he grabbed your waist, making his way back up to the top, holding onto you tightly. "Warren!" You held onto him tightly, surprised at how high up it actually was.

    "Shh, just turn around."

    "No." You shook your head.

    "I won't let you fall. I'm right here." He nodded to you, slowly turning you around himself as his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, keeping your body flush against his.

    "Whoa." The park had been built on top of a hill, so it was easy to see the lights across the city from the very top of the climbing frame.

    "Scared?" He asked quietly, hearing your breathing speed up.

    "I'm not exactly a fan of heights, not like this anyway, nowhere for me to hold in case I fall."

    "This is what it's like to be alive, though, babe."

    "Not helping."

    "I won't let you fall, I told you that."

    "You lie a lot, Warren."

    "Yeah, I know. But I'm not lying now." He rested his head against the side of yours. "So, are you scared?"

    "No. Why?"

    "Can I kiss you?"

    You smiled, turning your head to look at him. "Yeah, you can." You nodded, slowly turning around, wrapping your arms around his neck.

     "You said you didn't want me to scare you into kissing me, so, I guessed, considering that you're not scared, that it was alright for me to ask."

    "It is," you told him. Warren grinned, leaning down to press his lips to yours, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

[hannahindie]

Ladies’ Night

Characters: Reader, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Sam Winchester (briefly), Dean Winchester (briefly) Word Count: 5,266 (I’d say I was sorry, but I’m not. Don’t live your life with regrets, ya’ll) Warnings: A lot of snark. I would wager this is probably the sassiest reader I’ve written, which is actually kind of impressive. Garth being ridiculous, Dean being whiny, mention of Sam pouts, a good bit of violence, the gross misuse of a fire extinguisher, the wearing of high heels when it’s absolutely unnecessary, and waffles. A/N: I wrote this fic for my dear, sweet water bear’s 500 follower challenge. Congratulations, @trexrambling, you majestic sea turtle. You deserve every one of those followers and more! The situation I was given was that I would be hunting a vetala with Garth, using a fire extinguisher. I hope that I did that combination justice. As usual, my beautiful panda that I like be so much, @pinknerdpanda, was kind enough to beta this for me, so thanks to her. If you see any mistakes, it’s totally me. My old eyes ain’t what they used to be. As usual, the tags are at the bottom! If you find yourself missing or would like to be added, please shoot me an ask or a message. Feedback is always welcome!

If you like what you see here and would like to take a gander at more, my Master List is here!

I stood over the partially frozen remains of the vetala I had just stabbed, breathing heavily and with hair that had escaped my ponytail in my face. I looked slowly from the vetala to Garth, who was standing on the other side of it, still holding the fire extinguisher and grinning at me sheepishly. “Seriously, dude? Seriously?”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “I thought it was worth a shot. And hey look, it worked!”

I rolled my eyes, “Yea, perfect. Thanks for that.” I looked back down at the vetala, cold fog still rolling off her body, and sighed. Sam and Dean owed me. Big time.

Earlier that day...

“Sergeant Angel speaking, what can I help ya with? Mmhmm, yes, I did send my guys there. Murray and Akroyd? Yep…No, no relation to the actors to my knowledge. Yep, give ‘em everything you've got. Great, thanks. You too, bye.” I hung up the phone and went back to making my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. With Bobby gone, it had fallen to me and a couple of others to man the phones and help out when we could, and today it was my turn to lie my ass off. On occasion I wondered how many federal laws I was breaking on the almost daily, but then decided it was best to just forget about it.

I had spent most of my morning fielding calls from local police, coroners, you name it, they called me. I sat down in the living room with my sandwich and flipped on the television just in time for my favorite show. “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” Nothing like a little bit of trash television to help forget about the actual trash in my life. Just as I took a giant bite out of my sandwich, my cell rang. This meant that someone that actually knew me was calling, and that usually wasn’t a good sign either. I could probably count on one hand how many times people called me to just shoot the shit. I sighed and reluctantly swiped right to answer it, “This had better be good, I’m in the middle of Jerry Springer and a damn delicious sandwich.”

“Y/N! Hey, it’s Dean.” I groaned inwardly. Definitely not good. If the Winchesters were calling, it was sure to be a pain in my ass.

“Winchester, the answer is no.” I could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t even ask you anything yet!”

I took another bite of sandwich, “You didn’t have to. If you or Sam are calling, it only means a bad time,” I mumbled around the delicious peanut butter and organic jelly concoction currently assaulting my taste buds in the best way. Sam was smart, but the best thing he ever told me to try was organic jelly. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.

“Why do you have to be such an ass all the time-” I heard a rustling then another voice came on the line.

“Y/N, it’s Sam.” I smiled. Truthfully, I kind of adored both of the Winchesters, but Sam...Sammy was my favorite. Although I have to admit, angry bantering with Dean got the blood flowing, that’s for sure.

“Hey, if it isn’t my favorite Winchester. What’s up, Sam?” I heard Dean grumbling in the background and I chuckled to myself, “Tell Dean jealousy doesn’t look good on him.” I heard more grumbling then the sound of the Impala door slamming shut.

Sam laughed, “I think he heard you. Anyway, it’s not us you’d actually be helping this time. Garth is kind of stuck and Dean and I are already on a case. Do you mind giving him a hand? He’s not too far from you.”

I took another bite of sandwich, “Why does Garth need my help? Doesn’t he have like a trunk full of sock puppets he can use to awkward the thing to death?” Garth was a good hunter, I’ll give him that, but the guy was kind of a loon.

Sam laughed again, “Nah, not this time. He’s pretty much got it solved but he can’t draw it out. He needs a female’s touch, apparently.”

“Color me intrigued. What’s he hunting?” I heard some tapping and I could picture Sam typing away at his laptop. There’s nothing more adorable than Sam Winchester in research mode.

“Vetala. Looks like she’s operating out of a bar about...twenty, thirty minutes from you? Not sure why he can’t get her, but he’s striking out hard.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, “He can’t draw her out because that’s a gay bar, Sam. Garth is trying to put the moves on a lesbian vetala.” I paused to take a sip of my beer, “Put that on the list of things I never thought I’d say.” I finished my sandwich, then took my plate and tossed it in the sink. I leaned against the kitchen counter, “I can help him out. Tell him to give me a couple of hours so I can get the line taken care of and I’ll head that direction.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Let us know if you need anything.”

I grinned, “Aw, Sammy, it gets me all warm and tingly when you worry about me. We’ll be fine, it’s just a couple of vetala. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I guess you’re right. Talk to you later.” He hung up and I dialed the next person on the list for the line to get it covered in my absence. After promising it wouldn’t take too long, I grabbed my go-bag from the closet and headed for my pickup.

In case you were wondering what the answer to my rhetorical question was...everything. Everything ever could possibly go wrong.

“Y/N! You’re here! Sam said you were on the way, thanks for taking the time to come!” Garth threw his arms around me and I stood there stiffly as I awkwardly patted him on the back.

“Hey, Garth. How’s...how’s it going?”

He pulled back and put his hands on his hips, “Well, I’ll tell ya, it’s been better. I’ve dealt with vetala, but these two are just...they’re being a handful, and not very cooperative. Did Sam tell you I was having trouble getting them to come out?”

I snorted, then covered it up with a cough, “Yea, Garth, he sure did. I think I might have an idea. You’re gonna need to sit down, though.”

Garth flopped down into the cheap desk chair and looked at me expectantly, “So what’s the dealio?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the guy. To be honest, he was probably the only hunter I knew that could see what he had seen and still be as happy go lucky as he was. Although it could be annoying on occasion, it was a bright spot in the shit storm I usually had to deal with. Which meant that in this particular instance, I needed to dial back the sass a little bit. “Well, Garth, Sam told me you were trying to get these vetala at a nearby bar, right? Is it called the Pussycat Club?” He nodded enthusiastically, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, “Did you...umm...did you happen to notice anything while you were in there?”

He shrugged, “A lot of beautiful women, but that’s about it. Why?”

I leaned against the table and crossed my arms, “It’s a gay bar, Garth. That’s why the vetalas aren’t going after you. Apparently they are playing for the other team….although I suppose it could be both teams and they just aren’t interested in you…” The look he gave me was a cross between surprise and hurt, and I sighed. So much for dialing back the sass. “I’m sure that’s not it though! I’ve never given lesbian vetalas much thought, but I mean why not? The supernatural can do what it wants too. Except kill people...because that part isn’t cool.” I was rambling and clearly backpedaling, but Garth smiled at me anyway.

“Lesbian vetalas. Huh. I would have never guessed that. How are we going to do this, Y/N?”

I motioned towards my bag, “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman. And as a woman, I have brought the necessary accessories to have a night out at this Pussycat Club. I just need you to be my backup, okay? I don’t know how long this is going to take, but hopefully we can wrap it up pretty quickly. I have to get back home in a reasonable amount of time. Sound good?”

Garth nodded, “Yep, sounds good to me. I assume, because of where we’re going, I can’t pretend to be your date?”

I rolled my eyes, “Kind of defeats the purpose, buddy. Now, I’m going to get ready. Take inventory, make sure our weapons are accounted for, and then we’ll head out.” I grabbed my bag and headed towards the bathroom. If I was going to get their attention, I was going to have to go all out. It was time to bust out the big guns.

“Garth, stop it,” I hissed.  I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know that Garth was staring at my ass.

“I wasn’t doing anything! I just...how do you have that silver knife hidden that well? You really can’t see the outline at all-”

I whipped around and glared at him, “Your head would explode if I told you how I did it. Just know that it’s there, and that despite the fact I was planning on using it on a vetala, I will not hesitate to use it on you. Quit. Staring.” Garth took a step back and not so subtly crossed his hands in front of his crotch as if he were nervous. I smirked, proud at my ability to invoke fear with just my words, and checked my makeup in the sideview mirror of my truck one last time. I didn’t often dress up, but I had to admit I cleaned up pretty well. I adjusted the deep neckline of my dress and shook the girls, a little trick my grandmother taught me, and smiled at how great they looked. My grandma knew her shit, the saucy minx. “I’m ready. Now, I have to ask...how awkward did you make it in there? Can you go back inside or is it going to be weird?” Garth scrunched his nose and shrugged, which was enough of an answer. “.....Are you even allowed back in there?”

“It might have been mentioned that I...umm...was no longer welcome in their establishment.”

“Dammit, Garth! How are you supposed to be my backup if you aren’t even allowed to go inside-” My phone ringing interrupted me and I answered it angrily, “What do you want?”

Garth looked at me with wide eyes, “Where did you even have that phone?” he mouthed at me, and I promptly gave him the finger.

“Y/N, it’s Sam. How’s it going?”

“It would be going better if Garth knew how to act around women, gay, straight, or otherwise. Why?”

There was a beat of shocked silence before Sam answered, “Well, we hadn’t heard anything and I was just wondering-”

My patience with every male hunter I knew had come to an end, even precious Sammy. I took a deep breath, “Sam, it hasn’t even been five hours since you called me. I didn’t realize I needed to keep you up to date on my current location, but I have arrived safe and sound. I even found Garth, all on my own! And now, I’m wearing a dress that is incredibly inappropriate to wear in public, and have somehow managed to conceal at least three silver blades on my person so that I can go in there and finish a job that a man couldn’t do. Do you have anything else  you need to ask me, or can I go in there and do my job?”

Garth looked at me with wide eyes and Sam was silent. I almost felt bad for yelling at Sam, but I was already done for the evening, and my night hadn’t even started yet. “Nope, I think...I think we’re good. I guess you can...well, just let me...I’ll just talk to you later. Whenever you feel like it. Bye, Y/N.” Sam hung up and I slipped the phone back where I had hid it earlier, then looked back at Garth.

“Three blades?”

I rolled my eyes, “Shut up, Garth.” I smoothed out my dress and faced the building, “Okay, I’m going in. Keep an eye on your phone, hopefully we can get this taken care of tonight. Do you have any idea at all of who it might be?” Garth shook his head but remained silent, which was probably the smartest thing he could have done. “Great. Well, I’m pretty good at winging it. Just...turn the sound on your phone. I swear to God if I call you and you don’t answer…”

“I got it! Ringer, on!” He held the phone up with a smile. If we made it through this hunt without me murdering him, it would be a miracle.

I turned and briskly walked to the entrance without saying anything else to Garth, smiled at the doorman who was so distracted by my cleavage that he didn’t bother to ask for an ID, and headed straight to the bar. If I was going to do this, I was going to need all the alcohol. I waved down the bartender and asked for the best bourbon they had, then settled onto my stool and turned to watch the floor. Finding a vetala was not easy, even when you know what you’re looking for. It’s not like looking for a wraith where you can see their true self in a mirror, or a shifter where you can see their eyes flash on camera. You have to draw them out, get them to lose their cool for long enough to catch them off guard. If there was anything that Bobby Singer taught me about this life, it was to make damn sure of what you were killing before you killed it.

“What are you having?” I glanced to my right and saw a woman leaning against the bar. She was tall, with long black hair and eyes that were so dark they almost matched her hair. Her plain black tank top and dark leather pants were in stark contrast to her pale skin, and when she smiled, something seemed...off. I tilted my head as I gazed her. She was beautiful, and if I had a hunter’s sense that amounted to anything, she was also dangerous.

I smiled, “Bourbon.” She waved down the bartender, whispered something casually in her ear, then waved her away. When she came back, the bartender sat down an entire bottle of Pappy Van Winkle’s, sat two glasses on the bar, and walked away. I looked at the bottle wide eyed, and reached out to pick it up but then put my hand down. “Is that seriously...is that a bottle of 20 year Pappy Van Winkle?” I grimaced at how awkward I sounded, but they’d just sat down a $170 bottle of bourbon, and my brain couldn’t deal with it.

“It is.” She reached out and grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap, then poured a shot each and pushed one of the glasses towards me. “You know your bourbon.”

I carefully picked up the glass and swirled the contents gently, “I know some.” I took a sip and closed my eyes as it burned all the way down. Bobby would haunt me for the rest of my days if I didn’t savor this moment. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to see the woman staring at me. “This bottle was definitely not on the shelf when I ordered earlier. How did you do that?”

The woman smiled, “I own the place. We don’t have a legit VIP section, but I like to treat the customers that intrigue me.”  

I laughed, “Intrigues you, huh? You haven’t even really talked to me yet, I could be the most unremarkable person you meet today.”

Her eyes shifted slowly from my face down to where my legs were crossed, then back up, “I highly doubt that.” I was right; vetala or not, this woman was dangerous.

I took another sip of bourbon, “Hmm. So you own this place, huh? Funny, I don’t remember seeing you in here before.”

“I just recently acquired it. The previous owner...well, they decided it would be best to sell the business. So,” she spread her hands out, “here we are. Speaking of not being seen before...I don’t recall seeing you either. I think I would remember you.”

I smiled my most charming smile, “I can blend in when I want. I don’t always want to be seen.” She moved closer to me and I realized that if I was ever going to find out if this was the vetala, I would have to make my move and quickly. I put my hand on her arm, “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more private? I’d like to get to know you better…” I raised an eyebrow and drew my bottom lip between my teeth. It had the desired effect; as soon as I did it, the woman’s eyes flashed blue. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have missed it. Bingo.

“Moira. My name is Moira.” She glanced at her watch, “I have a private office in the back, and the bar closes in about fifteen minutes. Why don’t we head back there, and then I’ll give you a ...private tour?”

I nodded, “That would be perfect.” We stood and began our walk to the back of the building. I jumped when I felt her hand slip from my lower back to my ass. She looked at me from the corner of her eye and smirked. She was good, and if I had been anyone else, I probably would have fallen for it. We came to a locked door and she opened it, motioning for me to go in first. I sat on the edge of the desk and leaned backwards as I looked around the room, “Seems like this is a pretty good gig. Pappy Van Winkle, nice office, maybe I should go into the bar business.”

Moira laughed, “Yea, well, not everyone is as successful at it. It’s hard work and I’m good at what I do.” She walked up to the desk and shoved herself between my knees.

I raised an eyebrow, “You could at least take a girl out to dinner first.”

Moira ran a thumb across my cheekbone and smiled, “I don’t have to take a girl out to dinner to get what I want. Like I said, I’m good at what I do.”

I leaned in closer and brushed my lips over the shell of her ear, “Unfortunately for you, so am I,” I whispered.

She looked at me sharply and then gasped as the cold silver of my dagger penetrated her heart. Her irises went back to blue before her eyelids slipped shut and I shoved her backwards. She hit the floor with a dull thud, and I retrieved my phone from its hiding place.

“Heyo, Y/N! What’s crackin’?”

“Your skull if you don’t cut it out, you weirdo. I got one of them, but I have no idea who the second one is. There’s always a second one. The bar closes in about ten minutes, so keep an eye out for anyone that looks sketchy when they leave. Once the bar looks empty, sneak inside. I might need you.”

“Okey dokey, artichokey! See you in a few!” I rolled my eyes and hung up. I walked over to the door and opened it slowly. The hallway was too long for me to get a good look at what the club’s floor looked like, so I shut the door and stood over Moira’s body. I needed to hide her until we could take care of the second vetala. I dragged her behind the desk and wiped my hands on my dress. There was a reason I wore a black dress tonight.

The sound of my phone ringing interrupted my thoughts, “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Dean.”

I sighed, “I am in the middle of taking care of this. What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing, just wanted to check in. Sam’s been pouting since you yelled at him, wanted to make sure you weren’t too stressed. You don’t usually yell at Sammy. Me, all the time. Sammy, not so much.”

“Yea, and I’m about to yell at you some more. Listen, I’ve already got one vetala, but I still have to find the other one and it’s going to be a miracle if I take care of it without flashing everything God gave me. I am tired, and annoyed, and you literally have the worst timing. I will call you when I’m finished, okay? Great.” I heard him start to protest, but I hung up before I had to listen to it. I looked at the clock; the club was closed and should have started to empty. I slipped out of the office and down the hallway back into the main room. Although the lights were still off, most of the room was empty except for the bartender who looked up at the sound of my footsteps.

“What are you still doing in here?”

I walked up to the bar and sat down, “Moira was going to show me around the place but she disappeared. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

The girl shook her head, “Nah, not since she took you to the back. I’m surprised she left you though, not really her style. She likes to show her favorite guests a good time.”

I shrugged, “Hmm...maybe she changed her mind about me. Maybe I really am unremarkable.” I pouted and looked up at the bartender through my eyelashes. She was staring at me and I tilted my head. “What do you think? Do you think I’m unremarkable?”

She walked around the end of the bar and leaned against the worn wood, “Well, I don’t know you very well, but judging by what you’re wearing...you’re too ballsy to be too unremarkable.”

I laughed, “Hmm...maybe you’re right. What’s your name?”

“Lacey, what’s yours?”

“Y/N.” I leaned forward and watched her eyes move from my face down to my chest.

“Yea...definitely not unremarkable.” She looked back up and smiled, “Do you want to get out of here? Moira will probably kill me, but finders keepers, am I right?”

I bit my lip, “You certainly have a way with words, Lacey.” I moved closer and pressed myself against her, “A confident woman gets me all kinds of riled up, and here you are just taking what you want, your boss be damned. It’s...it’s pretty hot.” I started to reach for her, but she pulled back suddenly and I nearly fell off my stool. “What’s wrong?”

“Is that...is that blood on your arm?”

I looked at her with wide eyes, “What do you mean, blood? Why would I have blood on my arm?” I glanced down to where her eyes rested and lo and behold...blood. I must have gotten it when I dragged Moira behind the desk. I sighed, “Dammit.”

“Moira didn’t leave, did she?” I looked up to see Lacey’s eyes were an ice blue and that she’d magically grown a new set of teeth.

“No, Lacey, she didn’t. I mean, not physically. Spiritually though, she’s in the great in between, Purgatory, the place where monsters go when they die.” I hopped down from the stool and slipped out one of the silver blades.

Lacey looked at me in surprise, “Where the hell did that come from?”

I grinned, “Your head would explode if I told you. Now, are you going to make this easy for me, or are you gonna-” Lacey lashed out before I could finish and knocked the blade from my hand as she pushed me backwards. Nobody really tells you the cons of wearing heels to a hunt. I guess it’s because they assume a hunter wouldn’t be dumb enough to do that, and normally I would agree with that sentiment. It just hadn't really occurred to me until my ass hit the ground, hard.

“-make this difficult.” I managed to groan out. Lacey came at me, and I pulled out another blade.

“Seriously, where the hell are you keeping those?”

I kicked my heels off and jumped up, “A girl doesn’t reveal her secrets.” We circled each other and I vaguely wondered where Garth was. I had to admit, I’d been lucky with Moira. I should have known the second one wouldn’t be as easy. And here I thought Moira was the one I should be worried about. I charged at Lacey, hoping to knock her off balance, but she was faster and managed to grab me and throw me into the bar. I hit the wood hard and slid down into the floor again. “Jesus, you aren’t fooling around, are you? You mad that I killed your girlfriend? Or are you mad because she liked me better than you? I feel like there’s a lot of pent up aggression here, Lacey. Maybe you just need to talk about it.” She dove at me and I managed to roll out of the way, slicing her across the arm with my knife.

She shrieked as she clutched at her burning flesh, “She didn’t like any of those girls more than me! It was how we fed, nothing more.”

I laughed, “Sure, sweetie, keep telling yourself that. Because I’m here to tell you, I think she wanted a piece of ass as much as she wanted a free meal.” I winked at her and she screamed as she charged me again. I moved, but not quite fast enough, and she managed to hip check me into a table. The blade I was holding flew out of my hand as the table flipped over and I went over the side of it. “Son of a bitch!” I rolled across the floor and onto my feet, my chest heaving, and glared at Lacey, “Listen, I wasn’t even supposed to be here. This was supposed to be easy, and you’re starting to piss me off. Just let it happen, dude. You know how this is going to end. I killed your partner, I’m gonna kill you. I’m getting too old for this shit, just stand still!”

Lacey rolled her eyes, “Yea, like I’m just going to let you kill me. I’m not suicidal, and news flash! Vetalas might hunt in pairs, but it’s not like we mate for life. I’ll just find someone else. I was getting bored with Moira anyway.” She grinned, “You don’t even have any more knives. There is no way you’ve got anymore hidden under that poor excuse of a dress.” She walked towards me slowly and I looked around for something to at least beat her with. I was in the mood for some ass kicking, and Garth leaving me hanging was not helping.

“You’d be surprised what I could hide in this dress. Too bad you’ll be too dead for me to teach you.” She ran at me again and I grabbed her by the hair. “Seriously? Not gonna let up are you?” She punched me in the ribs and I managed to land one across her cheekbone as I yanked her head back by the hair. As we grappled, I noticed movement behind Lacey. She realized I was distracted and kneed me in the stomach. I fell to the floor, the air knocked out of me, and she stood over me as if to gloat.

“I’m not gonna let up. I’m gonna be the one that walks out of here. Sorry, but it’s every woman for herself.” She grabbed me by my ponytail and hauled me up and out of the floor, “I’ll make it quick, alright? I like your tenacity. I’ll just snap your neck and it’ll be lights out, sound good?”

“Sure. Sounds like a plan...except I think maybe you took too long monologuing. You should probably make sure of your surroundings before you go off on a rambling tangent.”

“What?” I nodded over her shoulder and she turned to look. Just as she did, Garth pulled the trigger on the fire extinguisher he’d found and nailed her in the face with it. It gave me just enough time to pull out my last blade, plunge it into her heart, and twist. I let go of her and she dropped to the floor. I stood over the partially frozen remains of the vetala I had just stabbed, breathing heavily and with hair that had escaped my ponytail in my face.

I looked slowly from Lacey to Garth, who was standing on the other side of her, still holding the fire extinguisher and grinning at me sheepishly. “Seriously, dude? Seriously?”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “I thought it was worth a shot. And hey look, it worked!”

I rolled my eyes, “Yea, perfect. Thanks for that.” I looked back down at Lacey, cold fog still rolling off her body, and sighed. Sam and Dean owed me. Big time.

I pulled out my phone, this time allowing Garth to see where I’d stashed it and hid a grin as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. I scrolled through my contacts, found the one I wanted, and hit dial.

“Hello?”

“Dean, it’s done. Both vetalas are dead and accounted for, no thanks to Garth.”

“Hey, I used the fire extinguisher-”

“Shut up, Garth. Anyway, it’s done. You guys owe me big time.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Any time I have to leave my house and deal with a handsy vetala, it’s not great, okay? Not my ideal date. Speaking of which, you owe me.”

I could practically hear Dean grinning over the phone, “A date, huh? I could arrange that-”

“Not with you, jerk.”

“Aww man, with Sam?” He whined, “He’s not really your favorite, is he? Come on!”

“You can tell Sam he’s on the list, but at this particular moment, no. Get me a date with the red headed friend of yours, and we’re square.”

There was a beat of silence as if Dean was carefully weighing his next words, “Charlie? You want a date...with Charlie?”

“Yep. And tell Sam the next time I’m feeling frisky, he can come pick me up. We’ll….I don’t know, do research, jog, whatever it is that gets his motor running. But for now, the primary objective is that cute little LARPer. Get on that, and like I said...we’re square.”

“But what about-”

“Bye, Dean.” I hung up on him and looked at Garth, who was still looking at me like I’d grown a second head. “Despite your lack of assistance, and a pitiful excuse of helpfulness at that, I find that I wouldn’t mind having some late night waffles with ya, Garth. Fighting makes me hungry, you game?” He nodded slowly. “Good, now come on. You’re driving.” I picked up my shoes and walked out of the building.

Someone else could clean up the mess. There were waffles to be eaten.

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[inyri]

Equivalent Exchange (an SWTOR story): Chapter 22- Risk/Reward

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire.)

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Chapter Twenty-Two: Risk/Reward

16 ATC. Yavin IV.

I could tell something was bothering you that night, although I thought you were just worried about the mission. Lana takes a sip of water. Even trying to sleep, you were restless-  

Were you trying to read off me?

Not deliberately. You know I wouldn’t. But you were only a few meters away. She shrugs, a silent apology. In a crowd it gets lost in the chaos, but in the middle of the night it was like trying to tune out a siren.

Nine crinkles her nose, lifting her hands to smooth a few strands of loose hair out of her eyes. She’s got no frame of reference for that kind of ability, but she’s had to sleep through plenty of sirens. Rather rude of me.

You had plenty of reasons. Several more than I realized at the time, certainly. I thought that was an odd thing for Marr to say, but- with a frown and a shake of her head, Lana looks away, staring at the strip of floor between the couch and the low table. Theron was right. That was a deep cut, and none of us said anything at all.

I don’t blame you. Back then it was rather like two people running from a rancor, wasn’t it- dealing with the Dark Council?

How so?

Sitting forward, she moves her fingers along the tabletop, two sets of little finger-puppet legs side by side. You don’t have to be faster than the rancor. You only have to be faster- her hands colliding, now, the right sending the left puppet-runner sprawling and then, clawlike, pinning it down- than the other person.

I-

I know.

***

It would figure that the temple has a literal killswitch.

Every time she thinks she’s got this place figured out it throws her for another loop. Secrets on top of secrets- a Sith device, of course; only the Sith would have crafted a tool to slaughter a planet wholesale and simply left it, intact, waiting to be found.

The first round of locks was hard enough. There were so many Massassi atop the temple ruins that it took her hours longer than it should have, waiting silently for lulls between patrol groups to dart in and activate each lock. How had the Revanites not figured out the devices by now? There’s nothing to them at all, a simple touch from an ungloved hand enough to set each one alight with a sickly purple glow.

Revan really must not know what they are.

By the end of the day she’s exhausted and it’s too dangerous to camp alone this far afield so she heads back into base; their meeting that night, at least, is mercifully short. She sleeps like shit that night, too, staring at the tent roof for hours punctuated by nightmares of Hunter whenever she manages to will herself unconscious.

The next morning she can barely keep her eyes open.

She’s got to finish this- it’s on her, for better or worse, and she doesn’t have a choice. If Revan gets there first, figures out the locks’ locations and mechanisms before they do, it won’t matter whether he can actually can raise the Emperor or not. None of them will live to see it.

Still, it seems ill-advised.

She gnaws on the corner of a ration bar, an adrenal stim already vibrating through her veins while she calibrates her stealth generator and gives the rest of her equipment a brief once-over. Rifle, vibroblade, darts, kolto autoinjectors, extraction beacon-

“Lot of kit for a one-person op.” Theron’s rounding the corner from the Republic infirmary, looking uncharacteristically cheerful. “You up for a field partner today?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” That grin can only mean one thing, and he’s got a rucksack over one shoulder to boot. “Did medical finally clear you?”

“As of five minutes ago, yup. And I thought you might want a second pair of eyes for all the tech- if that’s okay with you, I mean.” He pauses. “After the other day and all. Not to imply you couldn’t handle it by yourse-"

“Hush. You bring that up again, I’ll give you the long version of my recruitment speech.” She tosses the beacon at him; he snatches it out of the air, left-handed, without so much as a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. Good. “Of course you can come along. You can be the pack bantha.”

“Fair enough. I’ve got room enough for a little more in here.” Gesturing to the pack, he tucks the beacon in beneath the top flap. “D’you really think we’re going to need this, though?”

“I hope not. I tend to treat it rather like an umbrella: bring it and you won’t need it, forget it-” that ought to do it; she fastens up her pouches and stands- “and you end up in a metal bikini trying to choke a Hutt unconscious.”

Theron tilts his head to one side. “I won’t ask what that had to do with an umbrella. Maybe it’d make more sense if I could see it- there aren’t holos, by any chance?”

“Mixed metaphor. Also, I deleted all those recordings. Sorry.” With a wink, she pops the secondary unit out of its slot before she clips her generator back to her belt. “I know I gave you some shit for it back on Rakata Prime, but I assume you’re comfortable cloaking in. I’ve got no idea what’s in those caves, and given the option I’d rather be able to sneak up on it.”

“It’s been a little while, but I’ll be fine. Sync me when you’re ready.”

She nods and hands it to him, watching for a moment as he attaches it next to his right-hand holster before she hits the switch and the world around them flickers, out of focus for a moment and then nearly back, like a prism a few degrees out of alignment- except for him, clear beside her. After another thirty seconds she switches it off; he makes a face and blinks.

“Sorry,” he says. “Like I said, it’s been a while, and I think your tech’s a little different from ours. I’ll adjust, I’m sure.”

“I’ll trust you not to try to reverse-engineer it.” Theron shoots her his best who, me? look in response- she called that one, clearly, not that she’d expect any less. (She’d have done the same, in his position. They’re far too much alike for their own good.) “We’ll only use it if we need to and I’ll go light on overrides. Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

***

They’re half an hour out from camp, making good time toward the cave complex despite the swampy ground beneath their speeders, when her comm rings.

“Cipher.” Lana sounds as though she’s got a headache. “Did you see Theron before you left this morning? He isn’t answering my messages.”

(I was certainly about to have a headache, Lana mutters. Force, you should have heard her when she figured out he’d gone. She didn’t say anything, of course, but she was thinking it very emphatically.

She doesn’t need to ask who she means, only winces in sympathy.)

“Of course I did-” she swerves, diverting around a particularly large tree- “but we’re still in transit, at the moment. Can we holo you once we arrive?”

“What do you mean, we?”

He had better not have-

She kills the throttle, spins the tail of her speeder around until she’s directly in Theron’s path and he has to pull up short to keep from running into her. “Did we miss a turn? We can’t be there yet,” he says over the idling engine. “Pretty sure I still remember how to read a map.”

“Theron, is your comm off?” She eyes him over the windscreen as Lana, in her ear, makes a noise like an angry nexu.

“Maybe.”

“And did you, by chance, forget to actually tell anyone you were planning on heading into the field with me today?”

“Forget? No.” His comm was off- he raises his hand to his temple, brushing over one of the implant controls just above his eyebrow. “Forget would kind of imply I planned on telling anyone in the first place.”

She sighs.

***

The caves go deep, hundreds of meters back and down into the rock.

At first she thinks the prickling on the back of her neck’s because of all the creatures prowling around them- despite their best efforts at avoiding detection they stumble a few times, over stoneray nests and piles of crumbling stone and, once, the skeleton of something massive, bony fists as tall as her torso, brittle with age. As they skirt around it, a cluster of small skittering creatures emerges from its rib cage; she signals to Theron and he flanks the pack before she drops their cloaking and they pick off the creatures one by one with blaster shots and knife slashes.

"You know,” he says as the last one falls, “that’s really disconcerting.”

“Hm?” She turns toward him as she resheaths the blade, prodding at one of the creatures with the toe of her boot. It’s twisted and pale, eyes milky and fangs thin as needles; whatever it is, she’d bet its kin haven’t seen sunlight in generations. “They are odd-looking, aren’t they?”  

“I meant you. You know you laugh when you break stealth, right?”

She snorts. “I do not. I always exhale on a backstab, yes, but that just helps focus the strike. Basic combat dynamics.”

He keeps moving forward as the cave walls open up around them. “Well, yeah, I know that. But seriously, you actually laugh. It’s kind of creepy.”

“I don’t-”

(Yes, you do. You definitely do. Lana grins. I’ve heard it myself.

I know that now- Theron took a holo of me training the next day and played it back for me. Vector told me later he’d always assumed I was doing it on purpose.)

She stops, the odd feeling intensifying. So far everything they’ve passed through has been natural, hollows and passages worn into the stone by years of slow erosion, but the chamber ahead of them’s massive, all square corners and round columns and a domed ceiling arching high above their heads. Someone built this place

Someone built this place a long, long time ago.  

Theron’s stopped, too, standing beside her and looking around, studying the carvings chiseled into the walls. “I think we found it.”

“I think you’re right.” She traces the letters with a fingertip. “This is Sith. Old Sith. It reminds me of the ruined temple on Dromund Kaas- the little I’ve seen of it, at least. Why didn’t Lana come with us? This sort of thing’d be right in her wheelhouse.”

“They’re all scared,” he says, “of this place. They won’t admit it to our faces, but they are.”

“So how do you know they're scared, then?”

Theron grins. “Despite her constant ‘my agent’-ing, my mother occasionally manages to forget what I do for a living. I eavesdropped on her and Marr.” She gives him a look; he rolls his eyes. “Don't give me that- you'd have done it too and you know it. The whole moon’s a nexus of dark side energy, apparently. That kind of power does bad things to people.”

“But not to us?”

He shakes his head. “Not in the same way. You still feel it though, don’t you? Like-” he reaches out, drags one knuckle from the base of her neck up to her hairline and she twitches- “that. Just-”

“I know what you mean.” Another shiver. He must feel it, too. “But those Imperial Guards were Force-blind, too, and they were all completely crazy.”

“Yeah. I raised the same objection yesterday when I found out they’d sent you out alone. If we work fast, though, we should be okay.”

“Forgive me if I’m not reassured.” Holding out her hand toward him, she gestures toward the pack. “Give me the field camera? I want to send this to base.”

Theron nods, rummages for a second and then turns her with a touch on her shoulder, hooks the camera over her ear. “I’ll call Lana.”

As she starts taking pictures she walks the length of the left-hand wall, keeping her eyes on the inscriptions. She knows a few of the letters, a double ‘r’ here and a ‘z’ there that she remembers from the plaque Darth Zhorrid had outside her chambers, but some of them are odd- that one looks more pictograph than letter, like some kind of long-legged bird. The words run to the back of the chamber; she can make out the outlines of structures there, a long, low platform topped by three more locks and a series of raised tiles along the floor surrounding a larger, central pyramid.

Hm. This wasn’t in the briefing.

“Damn it. I can’t get a comm signal.” He calls out across the room. “We might be too far underground.”

“I’ll keep documenting. At worst, they can look over it when we get back. Between Darth Marr, Lana and Dee-Four’s databases, someone ought to know how to read this.”

“With any luck,” he says, “it’s an instruction manual. ‘How to kill an Emperor.’”

She chuckles. “We can only hope.”

(That would assume, Valkorion murmurs, and for a moment she can see him on the opposite couch, arms crossed, regarding her with quiet amusement, that such a thing exists.

You protest too much, old man. She closes her eyes. When she opens them, he is gone.)

Gloves off and tucked into her belt, she rests her palms on the first lock.

Nothing happens.

Theron’s looking at her expectantly; she shrugs. “It worked yesterday. I- oh, no. There were three of the emperor’s guards left. What if we have to activate all three at the same time?”

“That’s going to be a problem, yeah. But-” he touches the carved stone pedestal- “look at the floor. Same symbol there, on that far tile.”

He’s right. Not quite so simple as yesterday, but if it was built by the Massassi, even under Sith guidance, the system couldn’t be too complicated. They’ve barely got language, for Force’s sake.

“Maybe if I stand on it?” As she steps cautiously onto the symbol it shifts under her feet, sinking downward, the same violet glow rising and winding around her legs, wrapping tight- no, no, that’s just her imagination. It’s only light.

“And then I just-?” Pulling one of his own gloves off, Theron touches the little pyramid.

She feels it a split second before it strikes, a static hum that sets her hair on end. But one can’t outrun lightning: it hits her square in the chest, mostly diffusing off her shielding but still she drops like a stone, the back of her head bouncing off the floor as electricity arcs from beneath Theron’s hand to the center point. Sprawled out, air knocked from her lungs, it’s hard to breathe- oh, that’s bright. Her vision wavers.

She can hear him swearing over the crackling lightning; after a few seconds she’s moving, dragged off the tile and out of the line of fire with his arms looped under hers. When her eyes remember how to focus he’s crouched next to her, fingers pressed to her throat as her pulse stutters and then steadies. “Hey- are you ok? Talk to me.”

“Ow.”

“It worked.”

“I noticed,” she mutters, then coughs. “You get to stand on the tile for the next one.”

When he helps her sit up her chest hurts less. “It’s staying active. I think we can sit for a minute.”

“No. I want to get out of here.” As she says it he brushes dust off her face, off her jacket; the back of her head’s stinging and when she rubs at the sore spot her fingertips come away sticky. That’d explain the headache, then. “Get me up and let’s keep going.”

“You’re bleeding.” Theron frowns. “Let me at least look at it.”

She tries to wave him away but he’s already pulling a medkit out of the pack, dabbing antiseptic on the wound that must be there- ow, ow, ow. “Only a little cut, I’m sure. I’m fine.” She swats at his hand again.

“And attracting everything in scent distance.”

He does have a point. “Hit it quick, then. Injectors hurt like hell on the scalp.”

“There’s skin glue if you’d prefer.” Theron holds up the little applicator. “Should hold.”

“Not in my hair. I’d have to shave off that whole area if you don’t place it right.” 

“That’d be quite a look, yeah. Fair.” Tucking it away again, he takes out and uncaps the kolto. “Ready?”

She bites back a yelp as the needle sinks in. That hurt more than the lightning, she thinks, though she probably deserves it for running around without her helmet- the pain’s getting off lucky compared to the lecture she’d have gotten from Lokin.

He dabs one more time at the area with the cleaning towel.  “Okay. All fixed.”

“No new scars, at least. Though you could offer to kiss it better.” For a moment she manages to keep a straight face. He's not quite so easy to fluster as she'd once thought: at their planning meetings he surprised her, sarcastic as ever but as professional as any of her old Intelligence colleagues, mask not slipping even when she know’s he’s bristling at Marr’s sly insults or his mother’s offhand comments. Even today, their first real field outing together- strange, given all the time they’ve spent working side by side- he’s acquitted himself well. But at her comment he flushes a little and she can’t help but grin. “Oh, I’m only teasing. You’re no fun at all.”

“You’ve got a weird idea of fun. I was just going to say this isn’t exactly the best place for that.”

“I’ve been on way worse dates.” That, at least, makes him smile. “That’s a relief. I was worried it might be me.”

He smirks, shifts position to nudge into her side with one hip, and as he helps her to her feet he presses a kiss behind her ear. “Nope. There- sorry for electrocuting you.”

“Much better.” She adjusts her armor, knocked out of place by the impact. “And I forgive you. Like I said, you get to stand on the tile this time.”

(As it turned out, she yawns- stars, what time is it?- the blasted tiles stayed lit after they were touched. No need for continuous pressure after all. Theron didn’t even have to dodge.

I do wish I’d gone with you. The images you took really were fascinating, Lana says, and even after over a millennium all the mechanisms still worked. One can only hope to leave a legacy like that.

Dusty ruins and wandering ghosts- I think we can do better. Don’t you?

Lana smiles.)

The final lock was in yet another cave, this one on the far side of the valley that cradled the temple complex, identical carvings along its sloped walls and shallow steps leading up to a last diamond-shaped prism twice the size of any other she’s seen. When they get close it’s already glowing, that same eldritch light pulsing with her heartbeat, slow and even and hypnotic.

“Last one.” Theron turns to her. “Should we do this together?”

She nods; they raise their hands, side by side, to chest height. “On three. Three, two, one-”

It ignites at their touch and she can almost hear it, a howl deep inside her head; the energy bursting from the lock knocks them both off their feet, sending them flying almost to the base of the steps. For the second time today she lands hard on her back, skidding along the stones until she collides with the wall and curls onto her side.

It’s so bright, so bright- oh, this was a mistake. What have they let free?

When the glow finally fades enough that she can see again Theron’s across the staircase, against the other wall with one hand pressed to his ribs- they’d better not be broken again, the Grand Master’s going to kill me- still looking up toward the lock. There’s something else there now, backlit and hard to make out, a humanoid figure making its way down the steps toward them. Its steps are silent, though, no echo of booted heels against the floor.

A man.

Not quite. The shape of a man cast in white light and soft shadow, the face of a man, scarred and draped in robes that she ought to recognize, she thinks, but-

Theron whines, barely audible but no less terror in the sound for its quietness, and presses himself harder back into the wall as the figure (a Force ghost, Lana murmurs, quiet. He must have drawn on the energy you released to be able to manifest.) draws within arm’s reach of her. “Well,” the figure says, and she knows his voice, knows why Theron’s afraid, “it’s about time. I’ve been waiting for you.”

It would almost be funny if her head didn’t hurt too much to laugh. “Hello, Revan. I knew I killed you.”

“Only in part,” he says, “as I'm sure you've gathered. But yes, I suppose you did.”

She gathers herself onto hands and knees, starts to move in a slow crawl across the length of the stair toward Theron. If he tries to capture him again, she can at least put herself between them- whatever good that would do against a spirit. “If you're here, who’s leading the cult, then? They certainly seem to think it’s you. We certainly thought it was you.”

“An abomination. A brooding monster, blinded by his obsession with revenge on the Emperor, clinging to a body that refuses to die.” As Revan continues to speak she keeps moving, ever so careful, centimeter by centimeter. “And you must not let him succeed.”

Wait. What?

“Are you seriously trying to tell me-” she’s nearly there now- “that the thing who’s hunted us halfway across the galaxy and tortured Theron nearly to death is your evil twin?”

“No. An explanation would require more time than we have, and-” Revan pauses. “Although when you say it like that, it does sound absurd, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little.”

He doesn’t respond, looking past her instead, face flickering for a moment from blank neutrality into something like grief. “Strategy only counts for so much, I’ve found. Some things can’t be predicted.”

“A very convenient excuse.” Finally close enough, she angles herself between the two of them as Theron shifts behind her, one hand on her shoulder. “You said you’ve been waiting. What do you want?”

“He thinks he can destroy the Emperor. He’s wrong.” Looking down at them, Revan sighs. “He- I was never meant to be the one to do that. I understand that now, but he refuses to see it.”

“Then tell us how to stop him before he can complete the ritual.”

He’s fading already, the light ebbing and his outline beginning to blur. “He won’t begin until he believes you’ve been defeated. Find him, and destiny will do the rest. But you won't be able to do it alone.”

“But how- ”

“May the Force be with you.” The words echo off the walls and then Revan is gone.

Theron exhales, breath ragged- he must have been holding his breath this entire time, the way he gasps- and sags against her. He’s shaking, his hand on her shoulder tapping staccato against the kinetic plating of her armor; he breathes again, inhaling for four heartbeats, a pause and a slow exhale, and then another.

(She knows that exercise all too well.

And in-two-three-four, the instructor says, singsong, to twenty faces in a darkened classroom. Her own feet are flat on the floor, hands resting on her thighs. Holding now- four, five, six, seven and exhale slowly to a count of eight and now again-two-three-four-

Some things are universal.)

“Sorry,” he says after another half-dozen breaths. “Sorry. I-”

She turns halfway around, not so far as to shift him off her but just enough to be able to see his face. “Shh. Don’t. It’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine. If he’d attacked us I’d have been useless. He-” His voice catches. Of course he wasn’t ready to go against Revan already, not this soon, not after the way she can guess Revan- the abomination or however they ought to call the thing hiding in the inner reaches of the temple that is and isn’t Revan all at the same time; the Force can go fuck itself- must have played havoc in his head. She should have known better. Physically he was ready, but mentally-

“Not sure either of us would have been much use,” she shrugs, forcing a note of levity into her voice. “Unless you know how to fight spirits, which I certainly don’t.”

He chuckles half-heartedly but he’s less shaky now, almost steady if still leaning hard against her side. “Not really. But still.”

“It hasn’t even been a month. I think it’s allowed. You should have seen me the first time someone tried to buy me a Cassandra Sunrise after-” She cuts herself off just in time. Regardless of circumstances, there are things he isn’t allowed to know. “Never mind. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” Sitting up straighter, he twists from side to side, bending experimentally. “No. I landed on the pack, but I’m okay.”

“Good. Let’s-”

Her portable holo starts chiming and she reaches into her belt pouch, setting it hovering in the air between them. When Darth Marr flickers into solidity she doesn’t even bother standing, just stays sitting beside Theron as the lens focuses on them.

“You had a visitor. A manifestation. The Jedi and I both felt it.”

“Yes. Revan, but not the one we’ve been dealing with. This one’s dead.” That… doesn’t seem to surprise Marr at all. Hm. “Dead-ish, at least.”

He nods. “We suspected that might be the case.”

“Is that so?” She sighs up at the holo. “If I might make a suggestion, my lord?”

The silence that follows might be assent or it might be a warning; she never quite knows. Theron moves his hand behind her back, out of sight of the camera, a shift in pressure relaying a caution she chooses to ignore.

“That would have been useful,” she says, and she does not care because her head aches and she’s got blood caked in her hair and dust in her eyes and Theron coming down from a panic attack beside her and it is not fair and she is not having a bit of it, not today- “to include in the damned briefing.”

(Lana buries her head in her hands. How are you still alive?

Luck, mostly. That and usefulness and a modicum of blackmail go a long way.)

***

You remember what happened after that, don’t you? We set up the forward camp that night.

Lana nods. I remember. We could only fit a third of the soldiers inside the boundaries of the temple. I just kept thinking- what if we failed? All of the rest of them were going to die.

Even that didn’t help some of them. She frowns. We were wrong about the Revanites’ numbers. They were all just hiding behind the walls… so many dead in the first day alone. Stars, but we were so stupid.

How could we have known?

We couldn’t have. She tucks her knees up against her chest again, trying to ignore the restless feeling stirring in the back of her head. And none of that mattered in the end, did it?

Another verse of the same song.

***

There’s nothing for them to do but wait.

It takes three days to breach the temple, three days of hard fighting with Republic and Empire side by side. She sees almost none of it. The casualty rates are still within acceptable limits but only barely- a hundred on that first day, fifty on the second and another twenty on the third before Torch and her Mandalorians arrive and finally shatter the Revanite line.

(That had been a surprise.

Maybe it really is the end of the world. If the Mandalorians are here, at the very least it ought to be quite a battle.)

They can’t risk wounds that might take them out of the fight, not this close to Revan. So they spend three long days waiting, reviewing reports and planning and sparring to keep their skills sharp.

“Stop letting me win.” Her forearm’s across Theron’s throat and her left knee on his chest as he blinks up at her, flat on his back, in the lantern light of the courtyard. “If this was a battle you’d be dead five times over by now.”

“I’m not letting you do anything. I just like to work at range.” Grabbing her arm with both hands, he rolls in the opposite direction, hauling her off-balance; she tries to dive over him but he actually holds on this time, catching her with a knee in the stomach that knocks the breath out of her.

That’s better.

She lands hard, gasping-

“All right, you lot.” Lana’s climbing down from the tall tower, feet steady on the rungs of the ladder despite the dark. “Bedtime for me. It’s your turn to take watch.”

“Just when my luck was starting to change,” Theron grumbles and rocks back onto his heels, holds out a hand to help her to her feet. “Is it both of us on middle watch again?”

She nods, breath not quite back yet, and points toward the ladder where Vector’s descending- she’d insisted on his return on their decampment and surprisingly Marr and Satele conceded without argument. Always two on watch. A formality, mostly: the line’s ahead of them and perimeter sensors behind and it’s been silent every night but orders are orders.

“We took the liberty of leaving the caf,” Vector murmurs in passing. “It’s still nearly full. We thought you might have need of it.”

“You know me,” she grins, a faint cough punctuating the words, “too well.”

They scale the ladder, her first and Theron behind her. Atop the watchtower there isn’t much: two chairs and a little brazier, the thermos of caf and four cups, one used (Lana’s, almost certainly. Vector never needed it- another side benefit of the Joining.). She stands at the inner wall, looking out toward the lights of the troop encampment.

“It’ll be tomorrow, won’t it?” The center of the complex glows like a permanent sunset, the ritual markers there primed for use but still untouched; Revan really does seem to be waiting for them. “Do you think we can do this?”

“We have to.” Pressing one of the cups into her hand, Theron leans against the wall beside her. “We don’t have much choice, do we?”

“I know, but-”

It’s colder here than at their base camp. It shouldn’t be. The breeze blowing toward them always seems to radiate outward from the temple’s core, though, no matter where one’s standing along the perimeter, carrying a damp chill with it that reminds her of home. She wraps her hands around the cup and shivers.

“Theron,” she says after a moment, “can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yeah. A little.” He turns to look at her. “More than a little. I'll be ready for him this time, but… are you?”

She nods. “I fought him once before. He threw me twenty meters across a room into a duracrete pillar with his mind while dueling two full Sith Lords simultaneously and dodging a missile barrage, and he wasn’t anywhere near this crazy back then. So yes, I’m afraid.”

“D’you know, that actually makes me feel better?”

“Does it?” The caf doesn’t help settle her tonight, no more than the sparring did; she drains the cup at a draught and shifts restlessly on her feet. “That’s good, I suppose.”

“The rest of them all seem so certain. I thought I was the only one who isn’t.”

(I definitely wasn’t, Lana murmurs. I was probably just hiding it well. I’ve had rather a lot of practice.)

She shakes her head. “Being scared just means you’re paying attention, I think- it's more a question of redirecting it. Myself, I prefer anger. Much more productive.”

“Me, too. I was never very good at keeping calm.” Theron sets his cup down on the stone ledge. “One of the many reasons I’d have made a lousy Jedi.”

“Many?” She chuckles. “Besides the obvious, I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Well-” he slips one arm around her waist and she turns, glances down into the courtyard below but it’s still and silent, no one there to see, so she lets him pull her in close; she fits, just so, into the void spaces left by his body- “the whole attachment thing, for one.”

She smiles, tilts her chin up to catch him in a kiss.

(Not a debt settled, not in the open and not when they ought to have been paying attention to other things. They were not so reckless as that.

That was later, after- but there was solace enough in kisses, at least, to calm them both.)  

***

Revan couldn’t control her after all.

It was the one thing that went right.

Not that watching her allies spinning helpless in invisible cages as she runs frantic from lightning and flame and saber blows feels right- it feels awful, even as she breaks each one free to continue their relentless assault- but he couldn’t hold her, couldn’t get enough hold on her mind to trap her. It’s only fitting, she supposes. It was her destiny, Revan said.

Forget destiny. If she was born for this, the universe has a very peculiar sense of humor.

At the end of it they’re all bleeding, even Satele from a jagged slash along one cheekbone, even Marr, a dark stain welling beneath one sleeve. But they are all alive, all standing in a ring around two Revans-

And then it all went to the Void.

(Ah, Revan. His voice in her head again, honey laced with poison. Like you, in many ways- so stubborn, even to the end, and so very many interesting things inside his head. After three hundred years one gets to know a person rather well.)

***

Their soldiers lived. That must count for something.

They will not speak of the Emperor. That much was decided immediately, as soon as Revan, whole once more, had left them for the last time. Even in the face of his failure- their failure; they were all complicit in it at the end of the day, whether they admitted it to themselves or not- their troops deserved to celebrate a victory.

Revan was gone. That must count for something, too. And even freed, the Emperor was still incorporeal. How much harm could a spirit possibly cause?

(shut up shut up shut UP)

The worst of their injuries seen to, they wait for evac back to the base camp. She settles onto a fallen pillar, closing her eyes; her head’s swimming from stealth and it’ll settle in a moment as soon as the stim kicks in, but for now the world’s spinning in circles just as the rest of them were doing not ten minutes ago. Someone sits to her left, a brush of robes at her side like the air after a storm.

“H’lo, Lana,” she murmurs. “Wake me up when we’re leaving?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

They lean against each other, kept upright mostly by force of will, and after another little while she feels Theron settle on her other side. (She didn’t need to open her eyes to know it was him, though to go by size and build alone it could just as easily have been Vector. She could joke that it was his hair or his jacket, but it wasn’t-

It was just him. She could have been blind all along and she’d still have known.)

“We did it,” he says, and in the narrow space between them he rests his hand on top of hers; they sit like that, silent and exhausted, Lana half-asleep on her shoulder and her little finger twined around his, until the shuttle comes.  

***

They meet, one last time, at the War Table.

It’s over. It’s strange to think about, their odd little group still more like the punchline to a joke instead of the heroes the four of them somehow became. Six months of their lives gone, six months spent in planning and running and hiding and fighting, only to win the battle and maybe lose the war all at the same time- and in twenty-three hours none of it will matter at all.  

The truce’ll be over. Back to the Empire, back to the Republic, back to their lives.

Tonight, though, despite everything, they’ll celebrate.

“Stay a moment, Cipher.” Darth Marr holds up his hand as she starts to turn and go. “We have matters to discuss. Lord Beniko, you as well.”

She glances at Lana quickly, just a flicker out of the corner of her eye, hoping Marr won’t see; Lana, still in her usual place at Marr’s shoulder, looks just as confused as she feels. He waits, silent, unmoving, until the Republic delegation passes beyond the far archway, before he folds his arms and begins to speak again.

“Regardless of the threat the Emperor may pose, when our fleet departs tomorrow we return to war with the Republic. As such, we will require a full complement of resources, and while others on the Council have deemed it sufficient in past years to maintain our intelligence operations as a subsidiary of the military Spheres-” his tone is blistering, and she could almost swear the lenses over his eyes narrow for a moment; she can only imagine his facial expression behind his mask- “recent events have led me to reassess this approach. Your work on Manaan, on Rakata Prime and on Rishi was unsanctioned, in direct defiance of official orders from the Sphere of Military Offense, despite your knowledge of what the consequences of such actions might be.”

Silence seems the safest response to that. She swallows hard, nodding, and stands up straighter as he continues.

(You know now what he meant, obviously. I was fairly sure I was about to die.

Lana nods. I had no idea at the time. About any of it. I was fairly sure you were about to die, too.)

“And yet had you not done so, we would have fought the Republic over Rishi. The Revanites would have had their victory. Clearly,” Marr rumbles, “allowing Intelligence to work independently has benefit.”

“With all due respect, my lord,” she says as he pauses again, his head angled in anticipation of her reply, “we’ve been making that argument for years. You won’t hear me disagree.”

Lana shoots her a look at that but he only makes a noise; it might have been a laugh, if she believed he had anything approaching a sense of humor. “I would expect no less. You should be pleased, then, Cipher. Sith Intelligence will resume full operation immediately, under new leadership.”

The Minister was right after all. Does he mean-

She clasps her hands behind her back to hide the pressure of her thumb against the opposite palm, tracing tiny quick calming circles in one of the focusing techniques she learned in training, keeping her voice steady and her tone even. “Not Darth Zhorrid, then?”

“Zhorrid no longer has a place on the Council. While her lineage is respectable- “ behind him, Lana’s eyes flick toward the ceiling as she tries not to make a sound- “she has proven incapable of rising to the challenge of command. Until such time as a suitable candidate for the Sphere of Intelligence is located, I will continue to represent its interests. On an administrative level, however-”

He turns toward Lana, raises his hand in a gesture she doesn't recognize but Lana clearly does; she goes pale and still, her eyes wary.

“While Cipher Nine’s work in the field was invaluable, it was your guile and intellect that made the campaign possible at all. Lana Beniko, I hereby-” Marr gestures again- “appoint you as head of Sith Intelligence.”

You have got, she thinks, and catches the tip of her tongue between her teeth to keep herself from howling out objection, to be fucking kidding me.

For a moment, she thinks she’s going to say no. For a minute, she wants her to say no. But then Lana bows, solemn, gaze downcast.

“You do me honor, my lord. How could I possibly decline?

“Indeed.” That noise again, that almost-laugh. “A well-earned reward.”

Her head’s still lowered. “Yes. I will do my best to be worthy of it.”

Marr’s attention snaps back to her just as she manages to stop her lip from twitching- how dare he do this, reviving Intelligence and giving it over to a Sith, even a Sith like Lana but of course he’s a Dark Councilor, he can do as he pleases, could snap her neck here and now and no one would so much as blink when he stepped over her body- “You may negotiate terms of your continued employment with Lord Beniko as you choose, Cipher, although she will require your complete dossier for review.”

“Yes, my lord. As you say.” There was definitely emphasis on the complete, there. Of course there was. Shit, shit, shit.

“For now, there does appear to be a celebration beginning. You may avail yourselves of it as you see fit. Your new positions begin tomorrow, and we will reconvene in the morning to begin organizational planning.” With a dismissive wave he starts down toward the arch, toward camp and the dull clamor of music and soldiers’ voices already raised in half-drunk song. “I do not think I will join you, myself. I have a call to make.”

They both stand there, staring after Marr, and when he’s gone she turns toward Lana, starts to speak-

And Lana crouches down low, knees bent, head in her hands, muffling a sharp little scream against her cupped palms. After a minute, she looks up.

“Head of Sith Intelligence,” she says, nose wrinkling and mouth twisted around the words. “Well, fuck.”

(Is it wrong of me to say that I was a little glad you were upset?

Lana snorts. A little glad? You should have seen your face.)  

***

Up next: Goodbye (Reprise).  A party when no one feels like celebrating, a debt settled, and a truce concluded.

[gamesmakers]

That Time We Took Over the World

For @mores2sl.

Kensington, England

April 13, 2015

Local Time: 8:42 AM

“Everdeen.” He rose his glass to her before taking a long swig of what had better be water. “And here I thought you didn’t like me anymore.”

“You know, I just spent eleven hours flying here from Los Angeles. I even paid fourteen bucks extra for internet so Effie could get ahold of me if your condition changed. The least you could do is act like you had a heart attack this morning.”

“Yesterday morning, but I’m all right. They’ll get me some stints, and I’ll be better than ever.” Now that she got a good look at Haymitch, she saw what Effie had been so worried about when they talked this, fine, yesterday morning. The IV bag was all too obvious, but all the quips and one-liners in the world couldn’t hide the fifteen years he seemed to have put on since she’d seen him last Christmas. With the extra gray in the beard he never shaved but had never quite filled in and the deep bags under his eyes, he looked far older than fifty-nine. Those decades of hard living had finally caught up with him. “Y’know, I was thinking earlier.”

“You don’t say.” She didn’t care if he had been dead for almost two minutes yesterday. Haymitch walking into his own favorite insult was too good of an opportunity to pass by.

He glared at her. “As I was saying, I was thinking about your career after these goons were still trying to figure out if they’d saved me or not.” If he thought the legion of medical professionals who restarted his heart were goons, he had to be feeling better.

“And what did you decide?” she prompted.

“Now, hear me out. This might not seem like the most natural pairing, but the more I think about it, the more I think it could really work out well. People really dig that fusion shit, you know?”

“Haymitch!”

He took another drink of his water, then set it aside. “So, kid, tell me. What do you know about Peeta Mellark?”

Chelsea, England

April 13, 2015

Local Time: 11:27 PM

In the late nineties, nobody could escape the Tributes - not that anybody besides a few jealous teenage boys and tired parents really wanted to. The more enthusiastic members of the media heralded the five boys as a return to the Golden Age. They sang. They danced. They even made a film that, surprisingly enough, wasn’t terrible. “Like five Frank Sinatras,” one Rolling Stone critic wrote about them, “but more good-looking.” For teenagers who had been holding down part-time jobs at McDonald’s and Burger King not a year prior, it was high praise indeed. But the longer one watched them, the more justified the comparison seemed. With fourteen chart-topping singles and practically constant sellout world tours, they were on the road to the kind of superstardom that actually manages to worm its way into the history books.

But tastes changed, interest waned, and almost as suddenly as they had shot to fame, the Tributes’ career fizzled out. The former teen idols were suddenly the butt of jokes everywhere from late night talk shows to schoolyards. There was an attempt at a comeback, then another, but the only mercy came when the group officially announced their breakup. With that last blast of publicity, the group somehow managed to fade from the public consciousness completely.

Only one member managed to emerge from the rubble unscathed. Finnick Odair had in some ways always been the star of the group. The man was the closest thing the world had to a living, breathing Adonis. Nobody could really blame the army of managers, executives, and publicity workers that fueled any operation as big as the Tributes for wanting to place him in the center of every photograph or giving him the most solos. Issues of consent and sexualization of a sixteen-year-old hadn’t been the world’s main priority as they collectively drooled over the most recent pictures of him. At least publicly, Finnick seemed to have been able to brush that off with no big impact. Even fifteen years later, his new releases were almost guaranteed to land in the top ten, and he snagged the starring roles in some of Hollywood’s biggest movies.

Katniss had never been his biggest fan, but like every other heterosexual female she knew, she followed him on Instagram. Something about the muscular star holding his new baby and grinning really did it for her. She’d blame it on evolution.

Tonight, Finnick Odair wasn’t her main focus. She scrolled down the Wikipedia article to find the section on Peeta Mellark. Okay, she vaguely remembered him from the poster Prim had hung in their shared bedroom when she was in middle school. The article said he had released his first and only solo album seven years ago and continued to tour, though a quick scan of the upcoming dates and venues showed that he was mostly going to small casinos and clubs. Katniss kind of wanted to judge him for that, but then again, Haymitch wouldn’t go around trying to pair her up with a successful artist. Sure, she played guitar – really well, actually, well enough to make a very comfortable living off of session work – but you couldn’t start a conversation with random strangers on the street about Katniss Everdeen’s style.

She clicked out of that article and returned to the YouTube mix entitled ‘Tributes and Peeta Mellark Ultimate Fanmix :-)’. As a thirty-two-year-old woman and devoted artist, did she feel ridiculous sitting here, listening to ‘90s pop? Absolutely. Did she find herself humming along? Well, the Tributes had gotten popular for a reason.

San Bernadino, California

May 4, 2015

Local Time: 9:56 PM

Peeta Mellark took his job very seriously. One would have to if they were going to go onstage at the San Manuel Indian Bingo & Casino in an outfit straight from a music video that came out twenty years ago. The black pants and tight-fitting, primary colored t-shirts had looked a little too Star Trek in 1997, and the look hadn’t aged well. She applauded professionalism and devotion to one’s craft as much as the next person, but there came a point where one should walk away with their head held high and try something outside of entertainment. Katniss estimated Peeta had reached that point about ten years ago. The cheese value of this routine was through the roof. He did more flirting with the audience than actual singing, and every joke had the muddy flavor of having been used night after night for years. In a few spots, no matter how hard she tried to be polite, she had to roll her eyes. Good thing Peeta had managed to comp her a ticket for this show, or she’d be out more than the mileage to drag herself out to San Bernadino.

“For my next song, I’d like to mix it up a little and take suggestions from the audience. Anything’s fair game, mine or not.”

The crowd ate it up the same way they’d gobbled up the jokes earlier. Could they not see that he had a plant? At best, he might take a suggestion from an actual audience member and accept it if it happened to be in the lineup of songs he and his backing group had rehearsed, but otherwise, he’d move on to the predetermined ‘guest’ who’d lob him an easy one. Oldest trick in the book.

“Um, how about you, ma’am? Dark hair, braid, right in front of the stage, very pretty. What would you like to hear?”

It took Katniss a second to realize that he was referring to her. Her mind scrambled through an inventory of thousands of songs, but one kept coming up again and again. “’Til There Was You’.” Not exactly her usual style, and it came as a missed opportunity to see what he could do with something more folky, but oh well. She could grill him on folk’s greats later. It wasn’t like he would actually play her song anyway.

“Gotta love musicals. Who here likes The Music Man?” The crowd cheered as Peeta moved to the piano. Wait, was he actually going to follow through with this? She had to give him some respect for that. His accompaniment wasn’t what she would expect out of a professional pianist, but it got the job done. “I’ve got this on the CD I play when I’m driving to work. It’s one of my favorites.”

The voice she heard then barely sounded like the one she’d heard earlier. That had been as stale as his jokes, but now, he sent emotion rippling through the room. For a moment, Meredith Willson’s metaphorical bells were very, very real, and she did hear them ringing, and maybe, just maybe, Haymitch had been on to something.

San Bernadino, California

May 4, 2015

Local Time: 11:05 PM

After the show, several women her age and older loitered around the stage. Peeta chatted with them one at a time, all winks and smiles that promised something naughty. Now, she had hung around with enough big stars to know that chatting up women after the show was to be expected, but did he not remember that they had a meeting scheduled? According to the schedule Effie had found for her, he had three more shows at this very venue in the next week. There would be plenty of other chances to get laid, but he had royally screwed up his first meeting with a potential business partner. Good to know he had his priorities straight.

Only after he had gathered a few telephone numbers did he deign to join her. “Katniss?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes.” He smiled, and she rose to shake his hand. “After that show, you don’t need any introduction.”

“Nice to finally meet you in person.” Maybe he was just a good actor, but the words sounded genuine. Then again, he had sounded pretty genuine a few minutes ago when he was prepping new notches for his bedpost, so maybe she shouldn’t put too much weight on that. “Sorry to put you on the spot back there. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“You did really well with it.”

“Thanks. I really do have it on CD in my car, but I’d never performed it live before tonight. Especially coming from you, it’s great to hear I did all right with it.” He sat down at the table for two that had been hers alone for the show. “I’ve been reading a lot about you since we talked on the phone. I didn’t realize how many of my favorite albums you’ve been on.” God damn it, she couldn’t let him charm her the way he had those other women, but goodness did it feel nice to hear her work praised. “I mean, you’ve worked with everyone around. The Stones, Madonna, I think I saw McCartney on there too. I know you want to do something more on the folk side, but your catalog is pop and rock and roll royalty.”

“Thanks.” She was going to start blushing if he didn’t tone it down a little. He leaned in just a little, and Katniss met those gorgeous blue eyes, and well, it was too late on that whole not blushing thing. “Really, thanks.”

“Sorry, I just don’t think you studio musicians get enough credit. You’re the ones who make the rest of us look good, and we don’t bother to say thanks often enough.”

Definitely buttering her up, then. Good. That meant he wanted to go through with Haymitch’s scheme, erm, idea. She smiled at him. “Flattering as this is, if we don’t stop trading compliments, I think we’ll be sitting here for hours and I’d really like to go home at some point.” Two could play that game. “I’d like to hear your thoughts on Haymitch’s proposal.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” he laughed. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and…” his voice trailed off and he shook his head ever so slightly. “I’m not sure it’s what’s best for my career.” Wait, what? How was it that Peeta Mellark, corny C-grade casino performer, was the one putting a stop to this? She had an actual career. At any moment, there were five or ten requests for her to come in and play, and with the big names too, and he thought this wasn’t right for him? Her knuckles went white as she fisted her hands into the tablecloth. He must have noticed, because he immediately backpedaled. “That sounded bad. What I mean is, well, this might not seem like a lot to you, but I kind of like it. I get to travel all the time. I constantly get to meet new people. It’s not a very glamorous part of showbiz, but it keeps food on the table and lets me sing instead of working at the bakery back home.

“That being said, I’ve been doing this at varying levels nonstop for twenty years, and I’m ready to try something new.”

“So you want to go for it.”

“I’d at least like to test some things out, yeah.”

“That’s about at the point where I am too,” she admitted.

He had a great smile. It wasn’t fair, really, that he got the eyes, the smile, and the voice all rolled up in one package. How was the female portion of the population supposed to resist? Katniss stopped herself before she could take that line of thought too far. If things worked out, they would be business partners, and even if people didn’t always respect professional boundaries in this industry, she was better than that. “Then I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“Casablanca and The Music Man in one night?”

“Hey, if someone’s said it better already, why not let them say it for you?”

“I hope that’s not the approach you take to songwriting,” she deadpanned.

Peeta winked. “As you wish.”

“Princess Bride, and you’d better.”

Los Angeles, California

June 25, 2015

Local Time: 3:09 PM

“I’m so sorry, that session was only supposed to last the morning. He promised we’d be out by noon.” She really ought to spend some more quality time with that stupid treadmill she’d shelled out six hundred bucks for the Christmas before last. Katniss had only run from the corner to the front door of Haymitch’s office, but even after a few seconds spent panting and wondering if she was about to collapse dead, she still sounded like she was trying for a personal best marathon time.

On second thought, maybe dying wouldn’t have been so bad. Three sets of eyes were on her, the expressions on them a rainbow that went from concerned to amused to annoyed. Yes, an hour and forty minutes late was bad, but she had called as soon as she knew the session was going to run long.

Peeta broke the silence first. “Hey, Katniss. How are you?”

She smiled at him as she took the remaining seat. “I’m pretty good. Howa bout you, Peeta? Effie?” She didn’t need some smartass answer from Haymitch right now, so she left him out.

Not that that strategy ever worked. “So, who chased you up here?”

He got a well-deserved glare for that one. “I just couldn’t wait to get back in your presence. It’s such a magical place to be.”

Effie giggled at that, light and tinkling, but then it was all business. “We’ve been filling Peeta in on the basic business plan we have for you. Katniss, you’ve said that you have quite the catalog of songs built up, so we figured it would be best to use one of them for first single.” She turned to Peeta. “You’ll love them. She won’t brag about them, modest thing she is, but Haymitch has played a few of her demos for me, and they’re just lovely.” If Peeta wasn’t here, she would have hit him. She’d never given Haymitch permission to show any of those recordings to anybody. “If we can’t find anything we like in there, we can always find something to cover, but well, neither of you is getting any younger, and it’s better to get something out as soon as possible.” Katniss did her best not to flinch at that. She knew age was more of an issue for her than Peeta. Female stardom seemed to have an expiration date of around thirty-five, and she was getting closer every day. “Ideally, we’ll have you in the studio next week, have a single out on iTunes in six weeks tops. Then we’ll get you out on tour and hope for the best.”

“Do you ever hope for anything else?” Haymitch asked. “Ouch!” Oh good, if Effie hadn’t kicked him for that, Katniss would’ve had to, and after that admittedly short run, she didn’t feel like moving at all.

Effie smiled at them. “Any questions?”

She and Peeta exchanged glances and shrugs. “I think we’re good.”

“Excellent. Then let’s get started on the paperwork.”

To both of their credit, neither groaned audibly, but Katniss was pretty sure it was a shared sentiment.

Los Angeles, California

June 29, 2015

Local Time: 9:40 AM

Buttercup had only stayed with her for a week while Prim was out of town, and that had been a month ago, but she still found orange cat hair all over her furniture. On days like today, when she wore black, she might as well just add a pair of Tigger ears to complete the costume. Peeta’s black pants were going to be a mess when he got up too. Fingers crossed, he wouldn’t notice.

It would be a lot harder to ignore the fact that she’d said she was going to the kitchen to find some snacks but would return empty-handed. She blamed it on the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle. Her minifridge currently held the three-day-old remnants of a meal at Chili’s, three bottles of beer, half a jar of dill pickles, and a thing of ketchup. She didn’t even like ketchup. The pantry wasn’t much better. She’d been trying to cut down on her salty snacks habit, which was both doing nothing to help her slim down and not very helpful when it came to being a gracious hostess.

Opening the fridge a second time did nothing to help finger foods magically appear. What a time for witchcraft to fail her. She settled for grabbing two of the beers and heading back to the living room. A+ hostess. They ought to stamp her high society entrance ticket right now.

Peeta sat cross-legged in the center of the room, eyes closed and swaying along with the music flooding through the oversized headphones. She had spent hours over the past three days going through the songs she’d written over the years. Like everything, ninety percent of them were absolute shit, but she hadn’t touched some of them since high school, and revisiting them had brought her almost as many smiles as cringes. Almost.

“Anything sticking out to you?”

Peeta slipped off the headphones. “Yeah. How do you not have a solo career? Your voice is great.”

“Not what I was asking.”

“But inquiring minds want to know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Want a Bud Light?” She hadn’t even been prepared enough to buy decent beer.

“Yes, please.” She handed him the bottle, and he cracked it open and took a long sip, studying her the whole time. “You know, I’m not sure what to think of you.”

“Thank you very little.”

He grinned. “Caddyshack?”

“Yep. Two can play at that game.” She sat down on her sad, worn couch and opened her own beer. “And one can win.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to turn it into a competition. I’ve been touring at least eight months of the year for the past decade, and Netflix and I have spent a lot of quality time together.”

“I thought you liked traveling.” He had said that, hadn’t he? She probably should’ve been paying more attention to the words he said and less to the lips that said them during their earlier meetings, but who could blame a girl for looking? A painfully single woman whose only serious relationship had petered out eight years ago had every excuse.

“Oh, I do, a lot. And I try to get a good taste of the local culture wherever I go, but when you’re in Boise for the sixth time, you kind of run out of new things to do.”

“Fair.”

“Okay, you’ve dodged the question for long enough. Who are you?”

That question made her feel like a Bond girl: sexy, mysterious, and more likely than not playing both sides flawlessly. Too bad she had no idea what those two sides would be in this situation and all her foreign, ‘exotic’ accents were shit. “I’m not sure what you’re after.”

He scooched away to lean back against the room’s single chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not a bad thing. You’re just hard to figure out is all.” Peeta paused for a minute, collecting his thoughts. “What I mean is, I don’t understand why you’d be interested in this arrangement. You’re a rock guitarist, and you’re very successful at it, but the stuff you want to record is all pretty folky. I’m open to anything, but my background’s in pop.”

“Haymitch suggested it, and I thought it sounded like a good idea.”

“That doesn’t add up either. Why is it that you have a manager that’s mostly involved in the country scene?”

“Oh, that’s just coincidence. Haymitch was married to my mom for a very short time when I was a teenager, and we stayed in touch after they divorced. He actually got me my first break.” She rose one eyebrow. “That, or we’ve carefully crafted an intricate spider web of lies with which to entrap you.”

“A guy can never be too careful. The pretty ones are dangerous.”

She made note of that comment so the part of her that was still fourteen could overanalyze and obsess over it later. “Do you have a song picked out?”

“I’ve got it narrowed down to three, but I’m leaning toward ‘Mockingjay’.”

“I like that one too. Want to go for it?”

He laughed. “We’ve really put a lot of careful consideration into all of this, haven’t we?”

“Let’s call it great minds thinking alike instead.”

Annapolis, Maryland

September 1, 2015

Local Time: 9:07 PM

Peeta looked over to her and grinned. Ready? he mouthed.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping the butterflies would fly out of her stomach as she exhaled. When had that ever worked?

“Don’t worry. You’ll be great.” He could say that all he wanted. He’d been doing shows practically constantly for twenty years. Bill Clinton had still been president the last time she did a live gig. No, maybe it had been in 2001, right after Bush the Younger came into office. Either way, if it had been long enough that she didn’t remember the year, she certainly didn’t know what it would feel like. Fuck, it had been a few years since she’d been able to ride a roller coaster without feeling sick to her stomach the rest of the day, and that was way less adrenaline than getting in front of two hundred people and singing. Never mind that most of them were there to see Peeta, and that she was a sideshow attraction at best, she’d still be up there with him, and –

“Katniss, don’t worry. It’ll be fine. I mean it.” Peeta gave her upper arm the gentlest of punches. “You’re great. If you can play for Paul McCartney and impress him, you’ll amaze these people.”

Like wax strips, sometimes it was just better to tug things off as quickly as possible, bleeding or other bodily injury be damned. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“All right.” He winked. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

She frowned at him. “Casablanca, and that’s not the spirit at all.”

Peeta gave her another one of those grins that she was quickly coming to hate – or love, if there was any difference. “But it got your mind off of it.”

Annapolis, Maryland

September 1, 2015

Local Time: 10:56 PM

There wasn’t bleach strong enough to wipe the smile off her face. Who cared if she’d forgotten some of the words in the third verse of “Blowin’ In The Wind”? It hadn’t been her favorite song since middle school, and nobody could understand what Dylan was singing half the time anyway. It lent authenticity to their performance. The adrenaline had kicked in somewhere around the third number, and she hadn’t even wanted to take a break in between sets. While Peeta had gone to grab them some water, she had stayed on stage, singing any song that came to mind. Rock, folk, show tunes, at this point, she didn’t care. Why had she ever cared about that? Distinctions were stupid. She could play one thing as well as another, and if the audience didn’t mind, she wasn’t going to act all high and mighty about which things were better than which. Who got to decide what was good and not? Not her, that’s for sure, and if she had her way, they’d stop using words like that. Outdated language was what it was, not taking into account personal taste. As always, the patriarchy stayed hard at work, grueling over their 1950s-era language like they knew best. They’d be upset when they got home and realized she didn’t have dinner ready for them, but their time was long gone, and hers had dawned.

“It’s about time that we wrap up for tonight.” A few audience members groaned at Peeta’s words. He cocked his head and grinned. “Don’t be too sad. We’re going to miss you too. But, before we head out, we’ve got a real treat for you: our first public performance of our new single, ‘Mockingjay,’ now available!”

“One, two, three, four!” She started with the guitar, and there it was, out for the world to see. Katniss had practiced this song hundreds of times since Haymitch and Effie pulled this tour together two weeks before. Every night before bed, every morning when she woke up. If she wasn’t playing it, she was thinking through it, running through the chords, quizzing herself on the lyrics. Her fingers knew what to do, and the word slipped out without any conscious thought, and for the first time in years, she could just be.

She watched, and she listened, but mostly, she floated above everything. It sounded so cheesy in retrospect, but she felt like she was in the audience more than on stage, watching herself and Peeta as an outsider. She loved it, all of it. The words sat right in a way that only her own words could, the representation of feelings that, though shared in some respect with the rest of humanity, were hers and hers alone. She basked in his voice, swayed with her accompaniment, and the chorus slowly pulled her back to herself. At the second chorus, she and Peeta locked eyes, and they didn’t break their gaze until the last chord finishing reverberating through the room.

Applause made her nerves light up brighter than the Christmas tree at the Rockefeller Center. Heat rushed to Katniss’ cheeks, and as soon as she finished two stiff bows, she got the hell out of there. Though Peeta had spent several minutes greeting fans after his show in San Bernadino, he followed only a few steps behind. “You were great!” he said, beaming. Post-gig afterglow was definitely a real phenomenon.

“You think so?” She should say something nice about his performance back, but her mind was still reeling from all of it, and that had only been a hundred and fifty people. What would she do if they ever sold out a stadium? Probably too early to be thinking about that, considering that before the show, they’d only sold ninety-seven copies of ‘Mockingjay’ on iTunes, and that number included Prim, her mom, and all of Peeta’s family, but it never hurt to plan ahead.

“Incredible.” He’d moved even closer. From here, it was impossible not to notice how brilliantly blue his eyes were, and she just wanted to stare at them for a while, commit every detail of them to memory. It didn’t register that there might be a reason Peeta’s face was so close until his lips met hers.

One hand found his shoulder while the fingers of the other carded through thick blonde hair. He wrapped his arms around her, warm and strong, and she sighed against him, moving herself in closer still. Peeta’s breathing turned ragged as his fingers brushed against the back of her neck, and though she keened into the touch, the rational part of her brain finally kicked in. Katniss wanted nothing more than to give in, to do as she’d wanted to from the moment they’d met, but as warmth and desire curled and pooled within her, she moved her lips away from his. “Peeta,” she said, breathless. “Peeta, this is a bad idea.”

His forehead furrowed for the briefest of instants, then he stepped away. “I’m sorry. I thought – never mind. I apologize.”

“No, don’t.” God, she wanted to kiss him again, replace that regret with the passion she’d felt just seconds prior. She wet her lips, and his eyes followed the motion. “I mean, don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again.”

“Of course,” he responded, avoiding her eyes. Somehow, she doubted the plain white wall was really that interesting, but Katniss wasn’t going to call him out on that. She’d done enough damage already. “Um, should I go, or do you want me to stick around and walk you back to your room?”

She was more than capable of finding her way from the hotel’s club back to her room, thank you very much, and any other time, she would make sure he knew that. “I’d like to walk with you.” Katniss glanced down at his hand, thought about how nice it would be to walk up hand in hand, invite him inside, let herself cut loose for the first time in months, but he stuffed his fists into his pockets. “Peeta?” she asked. “It really is all right.”

He gave her the stiffest nod she’d ever received.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

November 7, 2015

Local Time: 8:31 AM

“Katniss!” The door rattled on its hinges as he knocked. Wanted to wake up the entire hotel, did he? “Katniss!”

Eight thirty was way too early to be dealing with this kind of shit. Still, she didn’t want the poor guests that got stuck next to her to have any more of their mornings ruined. With a sigh, she hoisted herself out of bed and padded over to the door. “What’s wrong?” she said as the door swung open to reveal a far too excited Peeta.

“Wrong? We’re in the top ten!”

“Wait, really?” Any remaining grogginess disappeared in an instant. “Let me see!”

He pressed his phone into her hands and stepped further into her room.

Her hand flew up to her mouth to cover her gasp. There it was, everything she’d been dreaming of. A top ten chart, and there they were, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, right at sweet, sweet number three. She never thought she’d live to see the day. It had seemed impossible, the ultimate pipe dream. No, some random pipe had a better chance of being stolen and made into a found art item valued at a million dollars than she had of releasing a hit single. Incredible. Just incredible.

She turned at a popping sound to see Peeta standing next to the dresser, pouring two glasses of champagne. Usually, she’d say it was too early to start drinking, but today, Katniss could get away with anything. Damn responsibility. Who was going judge her for a little early-morning alcohol? The only other person who knew about this was right there in the same boat with her.

Wait, what chart was this? God, she hoped it was the Hot 100. Anything was a godsend, but Billboard… Billboard was something else, and –

Sverigetopplistan. There was no way that was a real word. She couldn’t even begin to pronounce it. But it had the words ‘top’ and ‘list’, and that couldn’t be good.

A quick Google search told her everything she needed to know. “We’re only number three in Sweden?”

“We’re actually at three in Finland too. ‘Mockingjay’ is doing really well all across Scandinavia. I know it’s in the top twenty in Denmark and Norway, and I want to say it’s doing about the same in Latvia or Lithuania – I don’t remember which. Isn’t it great?”

“Uh, yeah.” She couldn’t help that her voice sounded a little flat.

Peeta winced. “Sorry, the way I said that made it sound like we had it on the British or American charts, didn’t it? I wasn’t trying to get your hopes up.” He held up the glass. “Champagne? I shelled out for some halfway decent stuff.”

She accepted the glass. “Thanks. To us?”

“To our continuing success,” he replied. They clinked their glasses together. “You know, I think we’re looking at this the wrong way. We are now international pop stars.”

“We appeal to the more refined tastes of the European market,” she added.

“America might be our homeland, but it is also our respite from our legions of devoted fans.” The CDC probably classified Peeta’s smile as a communicable disease. “Why would you want to be on the Walk of Fame in Hollywood when you could be on the one in Stockholm? Much cleaner.”

Katniss laughed and went for another sip of champagne only to find it was all gone. He noticed and went to fetch the bottle. “We can’t have you running out of champagne. After that first hit, you never know when the diva behavior is going to start kicking in.”

“You know, you’re really lucky that you’re cute, because otherwise, there’s no way I would put up with that.” The words just slipped out before she could really think about what she was saying. She hadn’t drank enough yet to blame it on the champagne yet, either. Damn it. Alcoholism was a terrible disease, and she understood that, but what she wouldn’t give right now to use Haymitch’s ‘I haven’t been in complete control of my actions for a decade’ excuse.

Peeta’s grin widened. “Just how much would you let me get away with?” His expression was pure sin, and Katniss blushed practically down to her toes.

“Has Haymitch heard the news yet?” Time to change the subject before she said anything even more regretful.

And as though flirting was as easy to turn on and off as a light switch – and for him, maybe it was – Peeta was back to friendly but professional. “Yeah, he’s the one who called me. Believe it or not, I don’t spend my mornings browsing the Scandinavian pop charts.”

“You might have to start now.”

“Good point. Guess I can work it into my busy schedule somehow,” Peeta laughed.

Gary, Indiana

November 23, 2015

Local Time: 10:14 AM

Peeta was a world-class pacer. Unless social niceties dictated that he absolutely had to sit, the man kept to his little four steps forward, right turn, four steps, right turn habit at all times. And so when Katniss walked into his hotel room – they’d left knocking behind weeks ago – to find him talking on the phone and standing stock-still in the very center of the room, she immediately grew concerned.

He didn’t notice her presence, too focused on his conversation to hear soft footsteps against the carpet. She moved back towards the door. He deserved his privacy as much as anyone else. “Yeah, for sure. That’d be a great opportunity, and I’m sure Katniss is on board too.” At the sound of her name, she froze. “I just need to check that the schedule will work out. We’re on the road right now, and you know how I am with dates.” He paused while the person on the other end spoke. “Of course. I’ll call our manager right now and get back to you as soon as I’ve got something. Yep, talk to you soon. Say hi to Annie and Ronan for me.”

“Who was that, and what am I on board for?”

Peeta jumped at the sound of her voice, but he quickly recovered. “Finnick. He’s got a big tour coming up, and his opening act canceled on him at the last minute. He’s wondering if we’re available.” She managed to keep her mouth from falling open, but only barely. Peeta laughed. “Yeah, that was my reaction too. He says he really likes ‘Mockingjay,’ and Annie – that’s his wife, she’s a sweetheart – has been playing it nonstop for days.”

In any other circumstance, she would be flattered, but her mind could only focus on one of those ideas at a time. “He wants us to tour with him?”

“Yeah. Isn’t it great? I mean, you do want to, right?”

“When?” She sounded breathless. Accurate.

“His first show’s in Seattle on the fourteenth.”

“Three weeks.” Okay, they could do three weeks. It might be a little bit of a logistical nightmare to get everything together, but it was an achievable logistical nightmare with some fantastic benefits. How many people attended each of Finnick’s concerts? She’d gone and seen him at the Hollywood Bowl a few years ago with friends, and that place had to seat twenty thousand, easy. He could probably sell out much bigger stadiums, too, and even if the audience wasn’t super excited by the prospect of listening to something kind of folky before the pop show, that was still twenty thousand more people exposed to their music, and even if only one, two percent wanted to go and pick up the album…

“Katniss? What do you think?”

She snatched his phone out of his hand. “I’m going to call Haymitch. He and Effie can make this work. I don’t care if we have to rearrange a few other dates.” She laughed, probably looking like a crazy woman. Oh well. Crazy old witch was one thing, but successful crazy old witch was pretty freaking fantastic.

Los Angeles, California

December 9, 2015

Local Time: 4:21 PM

Beyond a nice dinner with Prim at Sae’s, Katniss scheduled nothing for the two weeks she would be in Los Angeles before they started touring again. Nothing was going to get in the way of her sleeping as much as possible. She put in a grocery order with a delivery service and checked out of life for two weeks. After more than two months of almost-nonstop touring, she deserved it.

It got old after two days. By the third, she was ready to pull hair, and whether it was hers or someone else’s didn’t much matter. Most of her friends weren’t around on an everyday basis – she supposed that kind of came with the entertainment business – and anyway, she’d never been the most social sort. Katniss knew she should be resting up for the next tour, but instead, she found herself filling every waking moment with something. The pervs that hung out on practically every street corner in Los Angeles had always turned her off of walking around the city by herself, but almost every day, she took hours-long walks around her area. She ducked into art galleries and coffee shops she’d noted as places to check out but never managed to get to and wandered around the city’s parks, snapping photos and picking the occasional flower when no one was watching.

As she explored, she allowed herself to think. Big mistake. She didn’t confine herself to any single topic, and she covered quite a bit of ground. Art, the meaning of life, whether or not she’d remembered to lock the apartment on her way out, all of it came up. But she mostly thought about Peeta. He was three thousand miles away in Boston, and she still couldn’t get away from him. Peeta Mellark had ruined ogling cute blond guys, because none of them could quite measure up. She’d see some diet-busting pastry in a window, and her mind would leap to the cheese buns and raspberry tarts she’d tried from his family’s bakery when they’d played that gig in Worcester. He had even infiltrated her blessed TV-watching, because flipping through channels, she’d end up on TCM, and there he was again with one of those movie quotes that she hated but couldn’t get enough of.

When she ended up watching one of the films, she’d text quotes to him, and no matter the time of day, within thirty seconds, he replied with the title. Katniss hoped he cheated and googled them. Nobody should have watched No Orchids for Miss Blandish enough times to be able to quote it.

Damn boy was driving her nuts. She’d given Delly a hard time in high school for crushes far less consuming. How low had she fallen?

Three more days until she saw him again, but who was keeping track?

Seattle, Washington

December 12, 2015

Local Time: 3:09 PM

“Peeta!” She ran towards him, luggage in tow. Two little old ladies moved to one side so she could pass, and one flashed her a thumbs up. Katniss had him wrapped in a hug the instant she got close enough. “How are you? How was Boston?”

He squeezed her. “I’ve been good. Kind of wondering why I thought it was a good idea to visit home in February, but it was good. Nice to see everyone.” He broke away first. Smart move – airport baggage claims were hardly the place for public displays of affection, even completely platonic ones between friends that definitely didn’t want to screw each other. “So, how’s California? Ten below and covered in snow like Boston?”

“Isn’t it always?”

Peeta laughed, and wow, had she missed that. Cliché as it was, Katniss was convinced that one noise could light up an entire room, maybe power all the street lights in Seattle for the rest of the year. “I’m sure you froze half to death.”

“I wore shorts every day I was home.”

“So did I. They only had to amputate one limb.”

“If you two are done, we’ve got the car waiting outside.” She spun to find Haymitch standing behind them and waiting.

“Hey, Haymitch. How’ve you been?”

“Good. Get in the car.” He pushed Peeta in front of him and stayed behind with Katniss a moment. “What do you think you’re doing, kid?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea anymore.”

Seattle, Washington

December 12, 2015

Local Time: 11:30 PM

“You know, I’ve been to rehab three times, and marrying your mother is still the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

“Rehab was a mistake?” She couldn’t let something like that slide.

“No, the choices I made that landed me there were mistakes.” Haymitch took another swig of his Southern Comfort. “And the first time I went to rehab was a mistake too - made me think that getting clean was gonna make me come to Jesus or some shit like that, scared me off the idea for years – but that’s not the point. They always tell you that your drinking is affecting the lives of the people you love, and trust me, they’re right. They’ve got more scientists than I can count running all kinds of studies and coming up with figures to show you how right they are. And I’m good at fucking up the lives of the people around me – you’ve seen it more times than I want to remember.”

Katniss nodded, wary. She was used to Haymitch drunk, or angry, or the quiet, determined way he got when he had a plan that he was dead-set on seeing to completion, but she hadn’t seen this kind of open emotion from him before. Frankly, the thought of some baring their soul, particularly to her, made Katniss a little nauseous. She had signed up for Thursday night drinks and catching up, not a feelings orgy worthy of the Hallmark channel.

But he kept going, a steamroller headed downhill at a hundred miles an with no brakes. “Well, I really thought I had things under control this time. Y’know, I’d been to rehab, managed to stay clean for a whole year. Still wanted a drink from the moment I got up right up ‘til I fell asleep at night, but I figured that was to be expected. I know you’ve heard all that before, but it bears worth repeating. Your mom, she just seemed perfect. Too perfect, looking back on things. Gorgeous, smart, patient as can be – you’d have to be, to put up with me.”

She had her own opinion on that matter, but now wasn’t the time. “Haymitch, I’ve got things to do today. You sure that –“

“Let me finish. Long story short, she was too good for me, and I knew it, but I somehow managed to con her into marrying me anyway. And guess what? All I wanted to do was make things better. I really did, and still do, care about how you all ended up, but I couldn’t keep it together, and I ended up taking you all with me. Made you move, have to do the whole new school, new friends thing, made you deal with my problems, forced you to deal with my divorce because I wasn’t responsible enough to deal with my shit by myself.” Tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should try to comfort him or bolt. Katniss settled for reaching over and giving him an awkward pat on the back. Beyond a few handshakes over the years, this might very well be the first time she’d touched Haymitch. She’d been twelve when he’d come into her family’s life, and at a point in her life when she scorned physical contact with everybody, and neither of them had ever been the touchy-feely type. “Cut it out. You see, it’s happening again. I’m the one who made you hurt, and now you’re cleaning me up. That’s what happens when you let someone who’s too good for you in. You take and take until there’s nothing left to give, and when they finally give up and leave you, you’re both left with nothing.”

“You think Peeta’s too good for me.”

Haymitch’s eyes were steady as he nodded.

“Fuck off.” God, she wanted to leave with that, but something kept her rooted in place. She choked on something that wasn’t quite a laugh and bordered on a sob. “That’s precious, coming from you.”

“There’s a reason we get along so well, sweetheart. Here, have some.” He pushed the bottle towards her, but she pushed it away as she rose, spilling fat drops of amber liquor all over the pristine white couch. It’d be a bitch to clean up later, she reflected, but then again, so would she.

Katniss didn’t stop running until she was well into the parking lot, and even then, she only stopped because there was no place to go.

That seemed to happen a lot these days.

Toronto, Ontario

January 10, 2016

Local Time: 11:11 AM

When she and Peeta had gone on tour previously, it really had been just the two of them, Peeta’s Lincoln, and four different hotel rewards cards. They didn’t have a lot of extra equipment, so there was no need for anyone to help them haul anything, and though there were at least daily phone calls with Effie and Haymitch, nobody needed to be there to hold their hand and get them to the gigs on time. It was bare-bones, but it was fun. Yeah, that meant that she had spent an evening in Peeta’s car with a bottle of nail polish remover after a less-than-successful attempt at giving herself a pedicure in a moving vehicle, but they also got to talk and joke and stop at stupid roadside attractions whenever they felt like it.

Finnick’s touring was as far away from that as one could get. First of all, they had a private jet. She supposed that made sense, as thirty-five people accompanied Finnick everywhere. Family, security, personal assistant, sound engineer, stage coordinator, the backing group, Katniss, Peeta, and two people whose purpose on the tour remained a mystery even four weeks into the three-month stint. She blamed those people for her current situation.

There was a timid knock, then the door opened just a crack. “Are you feeling okay?” Peeta asked.

“The only reason I know I’m not dead is that everything still hurts.” Her voice came out as little more than a whisper. Katniss had always liked to think that she could tough her way through just about anything. How nice of this cold/flu/sinus monstrosity to rid her of that delusion.

Peeta didn’t move away from the door. Smart guy. “Do you think you’re going to feel good enough to perform tonight?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t even a question. She would have to actually be dead to not show up for tonight’s show. In the halo ring that was this tour, tonight’s show, the only one that would be broadcast live to millions of home viewers, was the pendant diamond, the one your friends were really complimenting when they said how pretty the whole thing looked. They forecasted that twelve million viewers would tune in tonight. She was going to wow every single one of them.

“You can’t talk. How are you going to sing?”

“I’ll rest until then.”

Peeta frowned. “I’ll go to CVS. Do you like pills or liquid cold medicine better?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Liquid then. I’ll get some soup too. Don’t go around infecting anyone else.”

She mumbled something at that, but even Katniss wasn’t quite sure what point she was trying to get across.

Toronto, Ontario

January 10, 2016

Local Time: 4:55 PM

She loved those green lights. They should make all the lights green. Then the cars could go faster because they’d never have to stop, and all the people would be happy because they spent more time with their families and less time driving. Lots of good things were green. In fact, she couldn’t’ think of a single bad green thing. Money, trees, kale, those rain boots she’d been eyeing at Target since last winter… they should make everything green. It would be nicer that way. “Don’t you think so?”

“Don’t I think what?”

“That everything should be green.”

Peeta shook his head. “I think you’re a lot less coherent on cold medicine than you led me to believe. I don’t have any strong opinions on the color green.”

“That’s too bad.” Peeta had a green sweater that made his arms look fantastic. Maybe she could convince him to wear it more often.

He had other things on his mind. Peeta’s voice dropped. “Look, we’re going to have you lip sync tonight, all right? Haymitch has a tape of your part on all our songs, and all you’ll need to do is mouth along with the words and pretend to play your guitar.”

“Okay.” She hated lip syncing, but it was hard to be upset about things right now. Why think about the bad things when there was so much green?

Toronto, Ontario

January 10, 2016

Local Time: 7:21 PM

The wiggles went through her entire body when she tried to shake the nerves out, tickling enough that she giggled out loud. Her fingers felt fat and sluggish as they danced over her guitar. The object was so familiar that it might have been another limb, but holding it now, it could just as easily have come from another planet. The weight was off, the balance just not there, and when had the strings gotten so little? No matter. She’d made it through three songs. She could handle two more before she went backstage and conked out.

‘Mockingjay’ shouldn’t be too bad. The first chords were easy. It started nice and slow, perfect for beginners and heavily-medicated Katnisses, before picking up speed. She knew what she was doing. Same thing, just faster, and faster, and faster, and then –

She realized an instant too late that this was her verse. Her eyes widened, and she did her best to start mouthing along, but the damage had been done. Whispers from the crowd rolled over her in waves, and it was all she could do to not cry on stage.

They struggled through that next number. She gave it everything she had – so not much – but she couldn’t sell it. Because of her fuck up, both of them would be in the papers tomorrow. They’d never have a successful album. Hell, they might not even be able to record an album. Nobody would invite them on tour again. Peeta might be able to go back to his old career, but maybe not. Opportunities dried up quickly in this business, which she knew better than anyone.

Katniss fell apart as soon as she got backstage. “Katniss, hey, it’s no big deal. I should have told Finnick you couldn’t go on. I’m so sorry.” Peeta’s words burned like acid over fresh wounds. He knew what she had ruined, and here he was, comforting her. If she was going to wreck something for someone, why couldn’t she pick some awful person who kicked puppies or something? Why did it have to be the nicest, sweetest man she’d ever been lucky enough to meet? Haymitch was right. “Katniss, I’m really –“

She kissed him. “Shut up.” Another one, this time harder – and now that he had gotten over his initial shock, he responded. Peeta dragged her close, pressing her tight against his chest. One hand found her waist, and the other toyed with the ends of her braid. His heartbeat was going nuts, but so was hers, so she supposed that was fair, and she –

“Hey, you two have a dressing room for that.” Peeta pulled away, and she turned to glare at Haymitch. He wouldn’t be cowed so easily. “Hey, if you don’t want to start damage control right now, I’m gonna enjoy the concert.”

“It’s okay, Katniss.” Peeta pulled her into their shared dressing room. “It’ll be okay, all of it. I promise.”

The worry swelled over her again. “You can’t promise that.”

“We can avoid the internet for a couple days. It’ll blow over.”

She closed her eyes and nuzzled up against his chest. “Maybe.” At least he smelled nice. Small consolation, but she’d take what she could get.

He kissed the top of her head. “Either way, we can’t do anything about it now.”

Another thought came to her. “I’m sorry if I gave you the flu.” Because she just couldn’t stop screwing up today, could she?

“Hey, it’ll make it easier to not go online, right?” he laughed. Then his voice dropped. “But since I’m already infected, I suppose there’s not anything to keep me from kissing you again, is there?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her level.

Boston, Massachusetts

October 11, 2028

Local Time: 7:31 PM

She’d been convinced that it was Haymitch who always edited the “Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark” page on Wikipedia, but in the two years since his death, it continued to change. Every week, some new, strange story popped up that managed to keep the basic outline of their story the same while putting them into the strangest circumstances. She rather liked this one, a fairy-tale themed story involving dragons (poor Effie), a knight in shining armor, and herself as the beautiful princess trapped in the castle of studio work while she longed to be out among the people. Pity it had to go.

She copied and pasted the short version of the group’s history into editing window and hit ‘submit’. Nowhere near as interesting, but at least there were no beheadings in this version.

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are an American folk-rock duo. Since the two artists began collaborating in 2015, they have released four studio albums and toured extensively. Though best known in the United States for their first single, ‘Mockingjay,’ and a lip-syncing controversy that occurred during a televised Finnick Odair performance, the duo has achieved great critical and commercial success in northern Europe. They are most popular in Sweden, where their third studio album ‘Girl on Fire’ held the number one chart position for thirty-one weeks between 2021 and 2022. The duo began dating shortly after meeting in 2015 and married on June 11, 2017 in Mellark’s hometown of Boston, Massachusetts. They are parents to three adopted children: Aster Mellark (born 2019), Rye Mellark (born 2024), and Senna Mellark (born 2026). In September of 2028, Everdeen and Mellark released dates for their Everlark tour, their ninth world tour, with dates across Europe and East Asia.

Only when she was reading it through for the second time did she notice that she’d forgotten to delete the prankster’s last line. Katniss smiled. She highlighted it, and her finger hovered over the backspace key, but she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it.

And they lived happily ever after.

After all, who was she to argue with the truth?

So sorry I posted this early on Ao3 and FFN. I promise that I can count. Don’t take away my math degree.