#you guys have No Idea how long I searched for furniture that wasn’t gray or brown or black or white

[razzledazzle-pop]

I am full of girlish whimsy and a hatred of white interiors.

[twomanyideas]

The Grill Next Door

A collaboration by @mdelpin​​​​ and @oryu404​​​​

Gratsu Week 2021 Prompt(s): Impress, Smile, Smokey Pairing: Gray x Natsu

AO3

Summary: Natsu had to repress a loud snort when he caught his first glimpse of his neighbor. The guy was dressed in only a pair of black boxers, his fair skin slick and shiny from the thick layer of sunblock he had applied. His back had white streaks and missed spots all over it from where he hadn’t been able to distribute it evenly, and some of the lotion was sticking to the dark hairs on his neck.

But the absolute worst thing of all was that he obviously had no idea how to use a barbeque properly.

0-0 Summer was arguably the worst time to be moving. Who in their right mind would want to spend all day inside unpacking boxes when it was 90 degrees outside? Definitely not Natsu, and yet here he was, dragging another box full of stuff up the stairs in his new home. He was grateful for his friends, who had been there when he’d gotten the key and helped him clean the house, paint some walls, and install the larger pieces of furniture. But now that there was only the smaller clutter left, he was on his own, and he was missing out on all the summer fun. His friends were all enjoying themselves without him; spending their free time at the beach or the pool, barbecuing in their yards, raiding the ice cream parlor… “Soon…” Natsu sighed to himself. Soon, he could join them again. He just had a few more boxes filled with necessary items to go.

He’d already unpacked the ones filled with kitchen utensils and Happy’s stuff. All that was left were his toiletries and a few clothes. He’d sort through the rest of his crap bit by bit, one or two boxes every night until he was done. That way, he could still get the most out of the vacation days he'd pulled out for moving. He opened the box he’d brought upstairs with him and groaned; of course, he’d grabbed the wrong one. Instead of towels and shower products, he was looking at some of the housewarming gifts he’d gotten. A key hanger from Lucy, because he was always losing his keys. A baking set from Erza, which Natsu had to admit was the most optimistic gift he’d ever gotten, and a cute houseplant from Wendy, carefully wrapped up in brown paper, with wet paper towels to keep the soil moist.

There were a few more small gifts, but Natsu’s attention was drawn to the flat package at the bottom. More specifically, to the image that was on it, giving away what was inside: a bright pink flamingo kiddie pool. “So you can have a pool in your backyard!” Sting had grinned when Natsu unwrapped the gift. It was obviously a gag gift, and at the time, Natsu had seen the humor in it. He’d even joked that he’d call Sting for a pool party once he was all settled in, but right now, it only fueled his longing to do something fun. Actually… Screw unpacking, he’d do that later. One look through the window, at the bright blue sky and the burning sun, was all it took to finalize his decision. He picked up the box and took it downstairs again, quickly watering the plant before it could die in the summer heat, and putting it on a windowsill. Leaving the rest of the box’s contents for now, he took out the inflatable pool and started digging through one of the other boxes in search of his swim trunks.

He’d done enough for today. He was going to sit in his backyard and enjoy his stupid pool, damn it. Once he’d changed into his swimwear, he applied a thin layer of sunblock he’d found during his search for a towel. He went outside with the pool under his arm, sticking his foot out when he slipped through the sliding door to keep Happy from sneaking outside.

“Sorry buddy, you can’t go out yet,” he apologized, knowing that it was for the best.

They'd only moved in a few days ago, and Happy needed to get used to his new home. If he were to run away, he'd get lost trying to find his way back to their old apartment, and the last thing Natsu wanted was to end up like Rogue, who had spent all night frantically searching for Frosch when he had just moved in with Sting and failed to shut the front door behind him fast enough. Still, Natsu couldn’t help but feel guilty at the sight of Happy pawing at him from behind the glass. Maybe he could get him a cat leash tomorrow, so he could at least explore the backyard safely. One thing was for sure, he’d definitely give him some of his favorite fish treats to make up for a few hours of sitting alone inside. With that in mind, he smiled and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh summer air and the delicious smell that came along with it. It was one of his favorites, and he instantly recognized it. One of his neighbors was grilling in his backyard. Too curious for his own good, Natsu followed the scent. His nose told him it was coming from the house to his left, from the backyard that was only separated from his by a tall wooden fence. Tall, but not tall enough to keep Natsu away. He was just able to peek over the top if he stood on his tippy toes.

He wanted to get an idea of who was living next to him, that’s all. Okay, and maybe he wanted to live through them a little as they indulged in one of his all-time favorite summer activities. \

Natsu had to repress a loud snort when he caught his first glimpse of his neighbor. The guy was dressed in only a pair of black boxers, his fair skin slick and shiny from the thick layer of sunblock he had applied. His back had white streaks and missed spots all over it from where he hadn’t been able to distribute it evenly, and some of the lotion was sticking to the dark hairs on his neck. But the absolute worst thing of all was that he obviously had no idea how to use a barbeque properly. “You know, your food is going to cook more evenly and taste a lot better if you close the lid,” Natsu suggested, bursting out in laughter when the guy jumped and almost dropped his tongs. “Idiot!” He whirled around and glared at Natsu, waving the tongs in the air as he stomped closer. Damn! This guy was actually pretty cute when he was mad.

"I almost burned myself. What were you thinking?!"

"That you weren't doing those ribs the justice they deserve," Natsu retorted, frustration rising within him once he managed to tear his eyes away from his half-naked neighbor and focus back on the grill. All that delicious aroma-filled smoke that would've added so much flavor to that gorgeous meat was getting away!

It was a fucking crime.

"Pay attention to what you were doing, you jackass! You gotta flip them over!"

The guy quickly returned to his grill to tend to his ribs, cursing as he fumbled with the tongs while trying to keep a safe distance between the searing heat of the barbecue and his own bare ribs.

"Man, you really suck at this," Natsu couldn't resist pointing out.

"Oh, and I suppose _you _could do better?"

In all honesty, Natsu was a terrible cook. He lacked the ability to multitask in the kitchen, always made an enormous mess, and often combined ingredients that his friends insisted should never be combined.

However, cooking and grilling were two completely different things to him. His dad had taught him how to cook meat on an open fire or a makeshift grill during camping trips since he was little, and he had it down to a fine art by now.

"You're damn right I can," he scoffed, taking the question as a challenge and being kind enough to climb over the fence and invite himself to his neighbor's backyard so he could show him how it was done.

"What are you doing?!"

"Saving your meat, of course! Move over."

Too stunned by what was happening, the guy didn't protest when Natsu snatched away the tongs. He just watched with his mouth open as Natsu flipped the ribs and set the grate to a higher level, making sure they'd cook slower. And much to Natsu’s amusement, it wasn't just the grill he was staring at.

Satisfied with his intervention, Natsu closed the lid and stepped back. "There, that should do it!" he grinned, putting the tongs down on a plate on the nearby table so he could hold out his hand in greeting. "I'm Natsu, by the way. I just moved here last Wednesday."

"... Gray," his neighbor replied, frowning warily but still accepting Natsu's hand and shaking it briefly. "Do you always stick your nose into other people's business like that?"

“Just wait, you’ll be thanking me soon enough.” Natsu said, amused by his neighbor's grumpy tone. “Anyway, you should be fine as long as you leave the lid closed for about an hour.”

“An hour?” Gray complained, “I thought grilling was supposed to be faster.”

“I mean, do you want fast, or do you want good?” Natsu drawled suggestively. He wasn’t sure if it was the beautiful weather or just the high he felt from having had a hot guy so obviously checking him out because normally he wasn’t much of a flirt, but he felt the urge to test the waters. “Cause I could show you both.”

Gray surprised him by laughing heartily at his innuendo. “There is seriously nothing subtle about you, is there?”

“Nope.” Natsu agreed and laughed along. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’ll leave you to your grilling, gotta go set up my pool.”

He climbed the fence to get back into his yard, hearing Gray yell behind him. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Just use the gate next time.”

“But then, how could I show you my best asset?” Natsu retorted once he was safely over, chuckling as Gray muttered something he couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t too worried, though. After all Gray had said next time.

0-0

Gray looked back at the grill, already tempted to open the lid and check on the ribs. What was he supposed to do for an hour? He’d mowed the grass earlier, and he didn’t feel comfortable staying inside while the grill was going.

The sun felt overly hot on his skin and he found shelter under a tree in his backyard. Playing on his phone had netted him ten minutes of entertainment and two group conversations he wasn’t all that interested in.

Maybe Natsu did know what he was talking about because the smell of the ribs cooking was making his mouth water in ravenous anticipation. Thinking about his new neighbor brought a smile to his face, especially since he heard odd noises coming from the other side of the fence. Didn’t he say something about a pool?

With all this time to kill, maybe he should go return the favor and see what he was up to.

With that in mind, Gray walked over to the fence and peered over it, unable to hold back a snort when he saw Natsu sitting on the ground and puffing air into a pink flamingo-shaped pool.

"Wow, I guess you really are full of hot air."

Natsu looked up at him, flashing that grin Gray was quickly developing a weak spot for. "So you think I'm hot?"

Yes, he sure as hell did, but he wasn’t about to give Natsu the satisfaction of saying so. At least... not yet.

“I think you’re having an awfully hard time blowing, which is… disappointing.”

"Huh. Never had any complaints before." Natsu shrugged, returning his attention to blowing air into the flamingo.

“Why don’t you let me show you how it’s done?” Gray said, feeling confident.

God knows he’d blown up a ton of these things for his brother’s kid. He’d quickly learned there was a little trick to it. You had to squeeze the valve as you blew into it or the air wouldn’t get in properly. Clearly, his hot dumbass of a neighbor didn't get that.

“You want to show me how well you blow?” Natsu tilted his head, looking amused by Gray’s suggestion. “How can I say no to that?”

Gray let himself into Natsu’s backyard, using the gate that connected their properties, like a normal person, and grabbed the pool away from Natsu. Using his trick, he quickly filled both rings of the pool.

“Color me impressed.” Natsu whistled in appreciation once Gray set the pool down on the grass. He filled it with water from the hose, which he oh so charmingly put between his legs, giggling to himself as he swung it around.

How the guy could go from flirting to acting like a five-year-old within the blink of an eye was beyond Gray, but he had to admit that it was oddly endearing.

Natsu jumped in with both feet as soon as the pool was filled, watching with glee as water sloshed out onto the grass from his efforts. He sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him, and immediately propped his arms around the pool’s rim.

“That feels so much better!” Natsu moaned happily.

Now that Natsu was inside it, Gray couldn't help but notice that the pool could fit two people, albeit a little snugly considering their size. And though normally he wouldn't be caught dead in one of these things- especially a pink flamingo one- it was a very hot day, and Natsu’s yard was a lot shadier than his.

"You want in?" Natsu asked, his lips stretching into a mischievous smile.

Gray’s eyes were drawn to the slightly pointy canines, finding them incredibly sexy, and he immediately wondered what kissing that mouth would feel like as Natsu patted the empty spot next to him invitingly.

What had gotten into him? He’d just met the guy, knew next to nothing about him, yet here he was acting like a hormone driven teenager. It wasn’t like him at all, but he couldn’t deny the chemistry that sizzled between them, so palpable he could almost touch it.

Besides, what was wrong with having a little fun? It was summer, and he had been in a bit of a dry spell for months.

That thought decided him.

“I suppose I could join you for a bit.”

He had just stepped one foot inside the pool when, to his surprise, Natsu stopped him. “Hang on a minute. I didn’t say you could come in. I only asked if you wanted to.”

“If you want in-” Natsu winked at him. “It’s gonna cost ya.”

“Cost me?” Gray sputtered in protest. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. I will be more than happy to share my pool with you on this incredibly hot day, but only if you share some of those ribs with me.”

Gray had already been planning on doing that, but it was infinitely more fun to make Natsu work for it.

“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, which only netted him greasy fingers from the sunblock he’d slathered on earlier. “It seems to me like you’re getting the better end of the deal here. This is just a kiddie pool after all.”

“Alright, you drive a hard bargain, but I can respect that. How about this then? I’ll throw in some of my world famous special sauce.”

“World famous?” Gray scoffed, “It’s probably just something you picked up at the grocery store, but… okay, I’ll bite.”

“You promise?” Natsu gave him a cheeky smirk, one that ignited a need in Gray to get in that damn pool right the hell now and show him what he intended to do.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Gray said. “Just don’t complain if it ends up being more than you bargained for.”

Gray was so determined to get in there that he completely forgot he was already partly in the pool, and tripped over the edge when he tried to step in. He caught himself with his hands but still ended up splashing Natsu, not to mention had the wind yanked out of his sails.

He looked up to see the damage. The water had darkened Natsu’s pink hair and flattened it against his face, softening his features and somehow making the bastard look even more attractive. Gray watched in rapt fascination as a drop of water traveled from Natsu’s cheek, joining others on its way down his neck and over his chest until rejoining the rest of the water at waist level.

“You’re right,” Natsu laughed loudly, slicking his hair back and away from his face. “That was definitely more than I bargained for. Nice entrance, by the way.”

Gray was utterly mortified, and he scrambled to sit down, desperately trying to come up with a witty comeback, but before he could say a word, Natsu had already splashed him. 

“There you go. No need to make that face. It’s a pool. We were going to get wet, eventually.” Natsu shrugged, his expression gradually changing to distaste as he looked at the water.

“Dude, what did you use for sunblock, SPF lard?”

“I burn easily!” Gray protested, smoothing out the bits of sunblock he could see on his skin.

“Yeah? Then maybe you should actually get it on all of your skin. Turn around.”

“It’s hard to reach back there! Besides, you just want an excuse to get your hands on me,” he argued, but did as he was told anyway, turning his back to Natsu.

“Yeah, that’s the idea. Are you complaining?”

Gray pouted but remained silent.

“That’s what I thought.”

It was hard to miss the smug tone in his voice.

Natsu’s hands spread the globs of lotion evenly across his back, occasionally stopping to knead on one of his muscles and then concentrating on his shoulders. Gray closed his eyes, biting his lip so as not to let on how much he was enjoying it. If this was what he got in exchange for some barbecued ribs, he'd love to know what other types of food Natsu liked.

“There you go.” Natsu said, giving his shoulders one last squeeze. “You can turn around now. It should be safe for you to walk in daylight again.”

Gray turned just in time to see Natsu lean back into his previous position.

“Are you implying I'm some sort of vampire? Cause I’m not the one with the pointy teeth.”

“No, but you are the one who offered to bite me.”

“True.” Gray laughed, and not wanting to lose the mood, he made his move, adjusting from a sitting position to a half straddle. He leaned in, close enough that he could feel the slight puff of Natsu’s breaths on his face as he murmured, “I can still make that happen.”

“You talk too much.” Natsu said just as quietly, peering into his eyes for a split second before closing his eyes and bridging the distance between them.

Gray hadn’t expected Natsu’s body to feel so warm against his, especially considering they were both wet from the pool water, and he instinctively pulled him closer. As arousing as the kiss was, and Natsu sucking on his tongue was definitely doing things to him, he realized he had no urge to push for more.

That should have been his first warning.

But he wasn’t really thinking about anything. His world had narrowed down to sensations. The torrid heat of Natsu’s mouth, the sharp sting of teeth nibbling on his lips, and the tingling pleasure of his hair being tugged, coupled with the sounds they were both making. Needy moans that would have embarrassed him if Natsu hadn’t sounded the same.

Gray liked it all a little too much. Already, the thought of separating filled him with a sense of dread. And perhaps that should have been his second warning.

He was busy running his hands up and down Natsu’s back when he felt him let go of his hair. His hands trailed down to his chest, but no lower, and he pulled away, leaving Gray to chase after him. Confused and more than a little disappointed, Gray opened his eyes. Natsu sat perfectly still, his eyes slightly widening as he sniffed the air. “THE RIBS!!!” Oh crap! He’d forgotten all about the ribs!

“Go open the lid,” Natsu urged, scrambling to get up and out of the pool. “I’ll be there in a few minutes with the sauce.”

Gray watched Natsu enter his house and then hurried over to his yard. The food smelled even better than before and when he opened the lid and poked the ribs with the tongs; he saw they were indeed done, the meat tender and ready to fall off the bone. Rather than stand around waiting awkwardly, he grabbed two beers from his fridge along with plates, napkins and utensils to bring outside.

He opened the sliding door that led to his backyard and found Natsu brushing sauce onto the ribs from an unmarked blue bottle. There was a content smile on his face as he worked away, and Gray felt a flutter in his stomach at the sight.

Shit!

He’d never been one for one-night stands, so why had he thought he’d just be able to go along this time? Because Natsu was hot and seemed willing?

Gray wanted to know more about him, but he wasn’t sure if Natsu felt the same way or if this was just a game he liked to play. What would happen if he played along to its inevitable conclusion? Would that be the end of it? The two of them- probably awkwardly- moving on as just neighbors who happened to have hooked up?

Was it wrong of him to want more?

Natsu looked up then, waving at him and gesturing him over. His smile widened when he noticed the beer bottles Gray was holding.

“Ooh, beer wasn’t part of the deal! I must have kissed you real good!” Natsu teased, accepting the bottle and easing some of the uncertainty Gray had felt about whether things would turn awkward after their make-out session in the pool.

“You’ll notice this is only domestic beer, so I wouldn’t get too full of myself if I were you.” Gray retorted, still playing along.

“Meh, beer is beer, and it goes great with ribs.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

The back and forth was nice, but Gray was itching to ask what was really on his mind.

Can I keep you? Or will you run off after the next pretty face that strikes your fancy?

The lid of the barbecue closed again, and Natsu walked over. “They should be ready in about five more minutes.”

He clinked bottles with him and took a swig. Gray followed suit and decided to just go for it. He’d rather know what to expect than hope for something that wasn’t meant to be.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he blurted out, sounding a bit more eager than he would have liked.

“Sure, shoot.”

Natsu gave no sign he knew what was coming, or at least that’s what his relaxed posture seemed to broadcast.

“Do you do this kind of thing often?”

“Moving? God, no, I hate it with a passion. Might as well bury me here cause I’m never doing it again.”

“No,” Gray frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Natsu mock sighed, “I’m just trying to think of an answer that won’t go to your head.”

“What?” Gray didn’t know what to make of that answer. Was he trying to find a way to let him down gently?

“No, I don’t do this type of thing often.” Natsu admitted, meeting Gray’s eyes and holding his gaze. “Look, you’re hot and turned out to be fun to mess with, so I figured there was no harm in seeing where that led. But I’m not expecting anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Gray wanted to ask if that meant that he’d like to date, but to his chagrin, all that came out of his mouth was, “You think I’m hot?”

“See?” Natsu said, sounding amused. “What’d I tell you? Right to your head!”

He put his beer bottle down on the table and traded it in for the tongs and the plates before hurrying back to the grill to check on their food. Satisfied, he turned it off and heaped a large serving of ribs onto each plate.

Gray followed him to the table, only then noticing the sliced watermelon Natsu must have brought with him from his house. He bit into one to buy himself some time to organize his thoughts.

Next to him, Natsu had already begun to dig in, messily devouring the ribs, stopping only long enough to take a sip from his beer. Gray shrugged and did the same. It wasn’t like his table manners were anything to write home about, either. The moment the meat from the ribs touched his tongue, his taste buds were assaulted with flavor. Sweet, salty, spicy… all blending together in perfect harmony. It was by far the best ribs Gray had ever tasted. He could hardly believe they’d come off his grill. He glanced at Natsu admiringly. Not that he noticed, focused as he was on his plate.

“So, what other things can you make?”

Natsu looked up at his question. There was a glob of sauce at the corner of his mouth, driving Gray all sorts of crazy with the urge to kiss it off him, but he held strong.

For now.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but this is it. I can’t cook worth a damn.”

“That’s too bad.” Gray tried but failed to suppress a smile. “Guess I’ll just have to show you all the best places to eat around here, then. You busy tomorrow night?”

Natsu shook his head, breaking into a smile so blinding it wiped every single thought out of Gray’s head. Save one.

"Nope, I'm all yours," Natsu answered after what looked like a brief moment of contemplation.

Gray sure as hell liked the sound of that.

“There’s just one thing…”

Natsu tilted his head and scrunched up his nose in silent question, which was just perfect.

“You’ve got a little something there,” Gray said, leaning in and licking the sauce off before claiming Natsu’s lips hungrily.

The kiss tasted like sauce and beer, but most of all, it tasted like more. And more was definitely bound to follow soon, tomorrow night, and many more days after.

Gray could feel it.

[sirrwritesalots]

Dance With Me? ~ Spencer Reid (fluff)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader [Y/n] Warnings: none, just fluff, and possibly mention of PG-13 (if it's even considered that?) Summary: The team is invited to an FBI gala-type event with food, music, and casual conversation, and everyone ultimately has a good time, especially you and Spencer, who find the chance to have a dance with one another as the air shifts between the two of you. [The imagine is set with all characters -Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia- and post-Maeve] Word Count: 1871 A/N: I love to write, but for the last few years, I’ve had horrible writer’s block, and I miss writing so much. This is my first imagine/creative writing thing I’ve posted on Tumblr, so bare with me please! I recently started watching Criminal Minds again, and this just popped into my head, so I figured why not? Though, Criminal Minds is not usually my genre, I wanted to give it a try (it might be cringy in some parts, I apologize). I hope whoever reads this enjoys it :)

Seeing as everyone on the BAU team was given a three-day-weekend off to have somewhat of a break, you all agreed to attend the FBI Ball Saturday night, giving you the day to relax and get ready.

That morning after you woke up, you had some breakfast and read a book by the window, followed by lunch and a nice, relaxing bath with rose oil, bath salts, and a lit candle. Once the water had gone cold and you were done with the bath, you decided to start getting ready for the plans you had later that evening, which consisted of blow drying and styling your hair, then applying some light - yet natural - makeup. Slipping into the dark blue evening dress with the strappy, laced-up back you picked out two weeks ago, you looked yourself up and down in the full-length mirror in your room with a smile on your face. It had been a long time since you had the chance to get dressed up and have a night of fun with friends, which is exactly what you were planning on doing; having fun. 

Work had been extremely stressful lately, for everyone - more so than usual, considering your line of work; being in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, where you work with serial killers day-in and day-out. One case in particular was rough on everyone; picked by the team’s communications liaison, JJ, you were flown out to Omaha, Nebraska to find an unsub who had a wide victimology and almost no similarities when it came down to location or anything else. You were there coming up on two whole weeks, when, after spending nearly forty-eight hours awake studying every detail, Spencer had found a similar signature connecting each murder. It wasn’t previously detected because it was so small it was easily overlooked, that is, until Derek and Rossi revisited every site and concluded that Spencer was right. At each location where a victim was found, a trinket of some sort was hidden, left behind as a sign of remorse. At first it made no sense, because each killing seemed too extreme to leave any room for remorse, not until the idea of a partner in crime was bounced around. Meaning that there were now two unsubs, one who was the alpha that controlled everything, and a second who most likely lured in the victims but only because they were told to rather than because they wanted to. Luckily, all the trinkets had traces of the unsub and their partner’s DNA left on it. That discovery soon led to tracking the unsub and chasing him down, where you and Emily went into the building first, to try and appeal to and reason with the submissive unsub, and would ultimately save the life of their latest victim. The plan went sideways when you two were met with the wrong one, and stepped into the middle of a trap... The unsub wanted a trade - the final victim for the two FBI agents - but the rest of the team, including the police force backing them up, were not about to have that. In the end, everyone was extracted and brought back to the precinct, except for the second unsub, who lost their life in the midst of the fight. 

To say the least, the team needed a break, and to have some fun.

Adding the final touch to your look -- a pair of black heels -- you grabbed your purse and jacket before locking the front door behind you and making your way to the car.

Once you were at the venue, a valet took your keys and parked your car for you. You stood on the curb, looking up at the gorgeous entrance of a high-end hotel. Before you could think about how all-out the bureau went, a familiar, deep voice spoke up on your right, “Damn Mama, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Turning, you came face-to-face with the most iconic duo of your team, Derek Morgan with Penelope Garcia standing beside him. Your cheeks flushed as you smiled, “You don’t look too bad yourself, hot stuff. Penelope, sweetheart, you look as wonderful as ever.”

“Please, I don’t think anyone here looks as good as you.” She waved her hand, a dismissal to your comment as she noticeably gawked at you.

“Why don’t we find out. Shall we?” You raised an eyebrow at them, tilting your head in the direction of the hotel.

“We shall.” Penelope disconnected herself from her chocolate thunder, and looped her arm with yours with a giggle as the three of you entered the building and followed the signs to the ballroom.

Tables filled with assorted foods line one wall while tables are scattered throughout the front half of the room, a live band played against the back wall, and the floor of the other half of the room was left unoccupied by furniture to leave space for dancing and mingling. You mentally thanked the event coordinator, whoever they might be, for ensuring the lights were dimmer than usual, since it gave your eyes a rest from the usual harsh office lights. 

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for the rest of your team, when your gaze landed on a man wearing a slick, dark gray suit and a maroon tie with his hair flopped perfectly over his forehead yet just out of reach of his eyes. You hadn't realized you were staring until Penelope had to practically drag you to where Emily and JJ were standing while Derek split with you guys to meet up with Rossi, Hotch, and Spencer.

“So, is anyone looking particularly yummy tonight?” Penelope asked Emily and JJ, bubbly before her first drink of the night as her eyes eagerly swept across the room. Typical Garcia. Gotta love her, though.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m going to get a drink, anyone else want a one?” The girls gave you their requests, and you were off to the bar stationed near the wonderful display of food that you were sure to raid in a matter of time - that is, if your stomach had any say about it. "One-"

A voice interrupted you and finished your order before you could get more than a single word out, "Gin martini with a lemon twist." A smirk formed on your lips as you see who was standing next to you. "Oh! And chilled, but not on the rocks," Spencer added with a wink in your direction, a goofy smile plastered on his face to match your own.

"Spence, you remembered!"

"Y/n, I have an idetic memory; of course I remembered."

You rolled your eyes in response and ordered for the girls before you forgot as the bartender handed you your drink. "So, how's your evening so far?"

"Good. Met a couple of Rossi's friends, one of which was an older woman who touched my arm a lot, though I don't know why..."

You chuckled and shook your head. "Oh, you poor innocent boy."

"Innocent?" He raised an eyebrow at you, faking offense, as he helped you carry the drinks to the table the girls were standing around. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Why shouldn't I be when you make comments like that?" you countered. "Alright," you announced, cutting the conversation short before it can lead to anywhere presumptuous in front of company, you name off the drinks as you and Spencer place them in front of their respective owners.

Spencer took his place by your side, his arm pressed against yours and his gaze fixated on you, waiting patiently for you to notice or make another comment from your earlier conversation. The girls hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, seeing as you and Spencer had become the absolute best of friends in a short amount of time when you first joined the group, which meant the two of you were in very close proximity to one another about ninety-percent of the time. They were also too busy to notice over their ogling of the other attendees.

"You're staring," you murmured over your glass to him as you took a sip of your martini before stealing a quick glance up at him, then returning your eyes back to the crowd forming in the room. Rossi, Hotch, and Derek were still nowhere to be seen from your spot.

"Sorry," you heard him whisper, his eyes still stationed on you for a moment before he looked around as well. 

The live band began to play one of your favorite songs by Frank Sinatra, Fly Me To The Moon, and you couldn't help the smile that brightened your whole face after you took another sip of your drink.

The warmth that accompanied Spencer when he stood as close to you as he had been suddenly disappeared, making your heart unexpectedly quicken in a mix of worry and disappointment at the loss of contact. Then, when a throat cleared, and you saw him still standing next to you only a little farther away than he originally was with his hand extended and a lopsided smile on his face as hope flickered bright in his eyes. Your anxiety calmed, and was replaced with joy.

"Care to dance?"

Taking his hand, you stepped closer to him and replied, "I'd love to," as he led the two of you to the dance floor.

There, he pulled you closer to him, your bodies pressed against one another, as his hand slid behind you to rest easily on the small of your back while his other hand held one of yours, and your other hand took place on his shoulder. The two of you swayed as the music filled your ears.

You felt content in that moment. So happy with your friends, music, and food and drink. You couldn't think of a better way to spend an evening during your weekend off. Hopefully you wouldn't spoil it all by accidentally drinking too much and either a) managing to somehow embarrass yourself before the night is over or b) having to nurse a killer hangover the next morning - the last day of freedom before being called back into work the following day.

You felt Spencer's eyes on you once more. Though it wasn't creepy or unsettling; with him it never seemed to feel that way. Instead, it warmed your body, making your cheeks flush and your chest flutter.

"You're staring again." When he refused to take his eyes off you, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "You seem to do it a lot. Why is that?"

"Possibly because you always look amazing. Except tonight; tonight you look... radiant."

"Oh, please... you're only saying that because you've never seen me all dressed up like this before." You dip your head rest on the side of his own in an attempt to hide your face, not from embarrassment, but rather to hide how red your cheeks had become in a mere matter of seconds by the few simple words he uttered.

"No, I'm not. Y/n, look at me, please." His voice was gentle yet serious as his fingers gently guided your chin up so you could properly look at him. "I mean it."

[tragicallytron]

So, this Cutler guy... (CHP 2)

WOOOOO CHP 2

“The one thing that sucks about your place is that I can’t walk around with my hood up.” Ant said to Harm as they walked through one of the many thin alleyways.

“Just that?” Harm asked, staring ahead.

“Yeah. This is the only place where programs like to pull on my hair.” Ant pointed to her two long hair… prong… things. They looked so bizarre compared to the rest of her hair, which was thick, gray, and stopped just at her shoulders. The prongs were long, thin, jagged, and stuck up. When she’d put her hood down, they’d stick out a good foot away from her face. They always reminded Harm of antennas. He always suggested she could cut them off, but Ant declared they’re ‘too iconic’ to be removed.

“Buuut you’re here, so that cancels out the negatives.” She flashed her friend a smile.

Harm stared at her before facing the streets again.

“Another left.” He said as they were approaching a fork in the path. Since most of the pathways were surrounded by towering walls, it was easy to get lost, so Harm had his own way of remembering where to turn to reach the center of the city, a place where he and Ant would spend most of their time together.

The heart of the city was a hassle to get to, but it was probably the best part of the inner city. While most people had to enter buildings through windows, vents, or by crossing over sloppily bade bridges because most places were cramped together, and the alleyways were so thin that many doors could hardly open all the way, the heart was a wide open area. The structures surrounding the area created a large square border that could make any program feel boxed in, but you could actually see the sky thanks to how spaced out the buildings were. There wasn’t any scrap metal hanging overhead, no wires, nothing.

Harm looked ahead and spotted a wall covered in neon-colored graffiti, most of the writing and crudely painted characters were unrecognizable. It was one of the landmarks Harm used to guide his way through the area. “Right.”

The two took a sharp turn then continued walking straight. They could hear distant chatter getting louder. A bunch of programs loved to hang out at the heart, who could blame them? Plenty of room, good stores, good food to eat as you watch a great fight happen, and the chances of getting jumped were real slim. Harm personally loved to windowshop. There were always plenty of weapons and gears on programs that’d catch his attention.

The two finally exited the thin alleys and began roaming around the heart. Just as Harm expected, it was crowded. The groups of people scattered throughout the area, all loudly talking to one another as the faint buzzing of broken billboards could be heard, the graffiti on the walls, the flickering lights from both buildings and street lamps, and the odd aroma of burnt rubber fused with a cooked meal were far from charming, but they gave the city life.

Ant suddenly nudged him, “Yo, look over there.”

She pointed to a lady. Her face was narrow, her hair was white and in a sleek, high ponytail. Her circuitry colors were nothing special, white being her main one, and secondary being teal. She was with a group of friends, hands on hips, laughing at whatever was being said. She looked pretentious.

“What about her?” Harm stared at her, unamused.

“No, no, you’re not looking.” Ant guided his head to the lady’s heels.

Harm’s eyes lit up. Attached to the side of the heels was a light gray baton, one that’s able to generate a light cycle, no doubt. She must’ve been from another part of the grid, who else would be stupid enough to have their baton out in the open like this?

Harm clenched his fists. Man, just thinking of all the great parts he’d get from dismantling one of those… It electrifies him. Programs in this part of the city would do anything to get their hands on a light cycle. Nobody cared about the fact that driving through the thin, jagged roads was a death sentence, they just wanted to be fast.

The two watched the lady glance to the side, motion ‘One moment’ to her group, then walked into an alleyway.

“Now’s our chance, whaddaya say? You follow from behind and I go above?” Ang asked, a big, confident grin on her face. That was their usual tactic whenever they saw something they liked.

Harm was about to agree, he was almost ready to start tailing behind the program, but he stopped himself. His shoulders slumped and he let out a groan. “We can’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“There might be guards around.” Harm explained.

“So? That’s never stopped you before.” Ant said.

“Yeah, but before we were only dealing with one or two guards who were stupid enough to wander in. Last cycle, there were about five. The big ones too.” Harm started walking through the crowd, squeezing through clusters of people or shoving aside any program who didn’t pay attention to where they were walking. If he couldn’t snatch goods off of programs, he’ll have to look through the abandoned buildings. It’s not as fast--and it’s certainly not as fun--but he didn’t want to put up with programs making a scene and getting unwanted attention.

Ant’s eyes widened, “Woah, what happened yesterday? Did’ja get ratted out? Did they find you hackin’ off limbs?” She followed behind.

“No. Some random program busted into my place and the guards were tailing behind him. He made me break a window.”

“Someone broke in!? Man, I KNEW I should’ve visited yesterday!” Ant snapped her fingers.

“Yeah, made a dent in my schedule.” Harm grumbled. Harm thought of a small building not even a block away, it has--well, had--a large glass dome as a ceiling, and was one of the best looking places in this city. It wasn’t cramped between other structures, it wasn’t completely trashed with wires and broken metal, the programs who used to live there--scientists, apparently--took good care of their workplace despite living in this trashhole. That changed several cycles ago. Harm remembered waking up to a loud explosion one night, and when he roamed the streets the next cycle, programs were talking about how an ‘accident’ occured, how an experiment had ‘gone wrong’ and derezzed everyone inside.

Harm’s been wanting to rummage through that place ever since. No one’s tried to fix it or demolish it; other programs have probably already searched through it, looking for whatever goods those brainiacs had on them. Hopefully there’s still some decent things left.

“Hey, no rush with my suit, a’ight?” Ant pat him on the shoulder, “I know you got commissions you’re dealing with, and if I gotta use those disgusting chute suits for a few cycles, I don’t mind.”  

“Aren’t those the same thing as your wingsuit?” Harm raised a brow. He paid no mind to the other programs giving him glares and spiteful comments as he shoved them aside.

“No, you do not understand how ugly those chutes are. They don’t even FLY, they just glide me down like some stupid paper airplane.” Ant groaned, “And they’re SO fragile. The Renegade could sneeze on them and the wires would snap in two.”  

Ant’s mentioned the Renegade before, mostly ranting about how he’s made her work harder, how he keeps destroying their property, and how he’s giving Tesler constant headaches. He doesn’t blame her for going off, he sounds like a pain to deal with.

“Some programs are saying he’s Tron, which I hope isn’t true, cause I never imagined Tron sounding so whiny!” Ant got several strange looks from surrounding programs. There’ve been rumors here about the Renegade--about Tron--recently, and hardly any of them have been good. There were mentions of a potential reward if one were to capture and turn in this Renegade, or anyone working with him.

Harm could see the shattered dome just up ahead. He grabbed Ant’s hand and pulled her along, “Let’s go before these creeps get the wrong idea.”

“Whatever, my boss can kill ‘em!” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Yeah, well your boss isn’t here right now.”

They made it out of the sea of programs and arrived in front of the ruined building. A battered sign was placed on the wall, right beside the hole where the door once was. “Minu… Sinimo… Lab” That’s all Harm could make out.

He welcomed himself inside, Ant coming in as well. They both looked around. This was probably one of the better places they scavenged through. This lab managed to withstand an explosion from the inside and remain in one piece, the only missing chunks of this small, octogonal-shaped structure were the windows, the front door, and the giant glass dome above them. Only a quarter of the glass roof was still standing, it was a dustier, lighter orange compared to the neighboring buildings, which had a much more vibrant version of the same color. The remains of the roof were scattered all over the floor and furniture, glistening from the city lights.

Harm noticed a crooked staircase that led to the second floor--well, it was more like an indoor balcony. It was trapezoid shaped, placed comfortably between the walls, and there was a thin black railing that stretched across the edge. It made the lab feel much less hollow, and Harm was impressed to see the black columns supporting it still standing. He was also surprised the programs here had the blessing of stairs instead of needing to use vents.

Underneath the platform were multiple tables pressed against the wall with an array of items laying on top of them, mostly beakers and test tubes. Come to think of it, there were a lot of tables in this place. Right when they walked through the front door, Harm could see nine tables broken into rows of threes. Maybe if the programs spent more money on better security than tables, they’d still be here.

There were other bits of furniture besides the tables, there were chairs--of course, whiteboards with wheels that had smeared writing, and random chunks of machinery that got crushed by debris.

“Check it!” Ant grabbed onto a short metal pipe sticking out of the rubbage and yanked it out. The pile of trash collapsed and scattered over the floor, the loud tumbling causing Harm to cringe.

She tossed the pipe into the air then caught it again before holding it over her shoulder, “A replacement for my bat!”

“You have a disc.” Harm pointed out as he approached one of the tables, shoving aside the chunks of cement and metal on top. A nice variety of tools were hidden under the garbage.

“Yeah, but…” Ant lowered her head, “Not a fan of it. Bats are cooler.”

“You don’t know how to use it.” Harm said as he picked up a power drill, observing it to make sure it was still usable. He’s never seen Ant use her disc before. Granted, what she was programmed to do didn’t involve any fighting, just keeping her ears open for information and sharing it with her boss.

“I kinda do. Oh, hey!” Ant’s eyes lit up and she scurried over to Harm’s side, “I could totally teach you the few moves I do know!”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that next time I want to derezz myself.” Harm grabbed the rest of the tools on the table and held them firmly. He made his way to the stairs.

“Come on, you won’t even give my idea a go?”

“I don’t know if walking in here made you forget what the rest of this dump looks like, but Argon has much more open space compared to here.” Harm stated, sounding rather aggravated. He stepped over a couple of broken steps and observed the platform. It had far less rubbish on it compared to the first floor, only broken parts of a large pipe and shards of glass laid on the ground. Lab equipment, more machinery, many of the inventions here had already been dismantled, making it nearly impossible to figure out what they once were.

A wide open folder splayed on top of a counter, which laid parallel to the rails, caught Harm’s eye. He wandered over there, looking through the giant hole in the ceiling. The specs of orange light coming from the towering buildings above looked quite nice, honestly. Reminded him of stars.

He set the tools down and grabbed the folder, tons of crumpled papers sat beside it. He started flipping through the contents, a grin began to form on his face.

“Nice…” He said to himself.

“Ooooh, whadja find?” Ant’s footsteps could be heard rushing up the metal steps.

“Blueprints.” He flipped through the pages to show Ant. The tears and incredibly messy handwriting would’ve made it difficult to decipher what the blueprints were going on about, but luckily the refined drawings provided clarity. Ant could spot sketches of disc enhancements, upgrades for tanks, and batons that could summon all sorts of tools.

“The programs here were making weapons. No wonder they were attacked.” Harm said.

Ant stopped and pointed at one of the pages, “Hey, I’ve seen those! Tesler commissioned a whole bunch of ‘em at one point for the guards.”

She held her pipe vertically with both hands, “They, like--I think there’s a button facing them, or they twist the top a certain way, so when they lift it up and hit the ground, it causes these weird quakes? Well, not really ‘quakes’, but it moves the ground a whole bunch. Cool stuff!”

“Mhm.” He didn’t express it, but that did sound cool. He wondered if there was a way he could use that feature in the future. As he closed the folder, he started fantasizing of all the weapons he could make and modify for himself, the upgrades he could give to other programs, the money he’d make. It’ll be great.

“You wanna keep lookin’ around?” Ant asked. “I got all I need.” She spun her pipe around.

“Same here.” Harm walked towards the railings and lept over them, landing on his feet with a loud thud that echoed throughout the lab. Ant landed beside him.

“I got the tools,” Harm continued, “and plenty of work to keep me busy.” He said as he eyed the thick folder, the electrifying feeling running through him again.

[ramheavenandhell]

That Is MY Morty!

AN: This is a really old something and I've finally decided to post it even though it's really dumb. I just wanted to write a scenario where Morty encounters Rick/Morty relationships…in a special strip club of all places. Warnings: very strongly hinted Rick/Morty, molestation/sexual assault (but it doesn't get too far) Summary: Rick has to make a business deal at some weird club. Morty has the urgent need to use a restroom and can't wait on Rick any longer inside the car. So, he also enters the club, which might not be such a good decision…

That Is MY Morty! Morty looked with furled brows down at a dark-gray asteroid that looked sparse except for one single building and an adjoining parking lot. "I thought we were going to Blips and Chitz, Rick." He complained as his grandfather landed the space car in one of the empty spots. "Yeah, we will. I'll just have to do a little business here first." Rick explained as he turned around and started to fumble for something below the backseats, the sound of empty bottles clinking against each other reverberating in the small space of the vehicle as he did so. The boy's frown only deepened at the mention of "business". As far as he knew the scientist, that business thing would be something shady again – probably a weapon or a drug deal, he could bet. Instead of reprimanding his grandfather how wrong that was, he looked over to the singular building on this lone space rock. It had a flashing neon sign at the top that read "The Crazy Rick". So, Morty in his curiosity asked instead, "What is that place?" "That's just a little club that's frequented by Ricks who don't like visiting the Citadel. Even the Galactic Federation won't find this place so it's pretty safe." Rick answered as he finally found the object that he was looking for – a simple, black briefcase. The old man burped briefly before he continued. "See here, I-I-I don't really like this place, but the owner said that he couldn't leave and so we have to make the trade here. You just wait in the car. I'll make it quick." After Rick left the space car with the briefcase in hand, he looked back at Morty to tell him one last important information. "Don't open the doors. Especially not if it's a Rick." With that said, Morty watched his grandfather walk over to the building. He briefly talked to the bouncer, who was a really beefed-up Rick, before he was let inside and vanished from the boy's sight. Morty sank back into his seat and wondered how long he would have to wait. If Rick said, he wouldn't take long, he could actually be away for hours. For all the boy knew his grandfather would get drunk and high with whatever Rick he was meeting in there. Sighing, he rolled his eyes at the thought and could already feel boredom creeping up on him. Searching for something to keep himself occupied, he looked around the parking lot. There were some space cruisers, which looked identical to the one that he currently sat in but some also looked completely different and not like they were made out of trash. His attention was briefly pulled towards a green portal opening next to the entrance of the building as a Rick walked out of it and up towards the bouncer. As far as Morty could see, he wore a yellow button-up shirt with black dots on it, blue tightfitting jeans and high-heeled leather boots. He also seemed to have a few gold studded earrings in one of his ears. The unusual-looking outfit made Morty blink a little before the Rick was also let in. Going back to browsing the surrounding parking lot with his eyes, he noticed that another Rick was standing next to one of the vehicles. From the looks of it, he seemed to be making out with a smaller person that he pressed against the side of the car, but from this angle, it was impossible to see the other. Morty quickly averted his eyes. Seeing his grandfather getting it on with what he assumed must be a space-hooker was not something that he wanted to see even if he wasn't able to spot much more than the spikes of his hair from here. It also didn't matter whether it was his actual Rick or one of the countless other versions of him who was doing it… The boy leaned back in his seat again, feeling bored out of his mind. Having anticipated to spent the afternoon with his grandfather at Blips and Chitz and playing the new arcade game that they made for the Two Brothers Movie, he felt really disappointed. It was just so like Rick to get his spirits up and high and then leave him hanging like that. '"I'll make it quick" my ass.' He thought grittily. Seeing, as he wasn't left to do anything else, Morty kept waiting. That was until his bladder suddenly started to bother him, inching in his focus with an uncomfortable pressure. 'Aw geez… that, too, now…?' Morty looked back to the entrance but there was no trace of his Rick anywhere. Rolling with an idea inside his head and feeling the increase of pressure, the boy slowly made up his mind. There was no way that he could wait till Rick was back and then until they reached the next restroom in space. 'I'll just be quick. Use the toilet and then I'm out again.' Morty told himself as he opened the door. He didn't even think about doing his business out here – not when a perfectly fine toilet would be waiting inside for him. However, as he came closer towards the door, he wondered if he would even be let inside. Rick had said that this was a place frequented by Ricks, which didn't automatically mean that Mortys were also welcome here. If anything, it sounded more as if the opposite would make sense now that the boy thought about it. Still, he only wanted to use the toilet, he wouldn't bother anyone in there. Maybe they would let him in if he just explained properly. As he finally reached the entrance, he fearfully looked up at the bouncer. From close up, he looked even taller and more buff – totally intimidating to say the least. As the Beefcake Rick looked wordlessly down at him through his black sunglasses, Morty almost forgot what he wanted to say. Actually, he felt like he wanted to just go back and wait in the car for his grandfather to come back. Going to the toilet wasn't really that important. Maybe he should just do what Summer always did and just pee in his pants. Feeling stupid for just walking away without saying anything, he opened his mouth and tried to formulate a response to the unspoken question. The first thing that escaped him where just a bunch of useless stutters. Swallowing, he took a deep breath and then said, "M-my Rick went in there. Just a-a few minutes ago." Actually, that wasn't what he had wanted to say and he looked with big eyes up at the bouncer who's face hadn't even twitched a single time since he had walked up to him. Instead of telling Morty off, he moved to the side. The boy's eyes widened a little more. The guy was really letting him in?! Not wanting to waste this chance, he resumed his old plan of just going in and relieving himself quickly. However, Morty really had no idea what would await him inside. Swiftly he found out that it wasn't what he had expected though. Just as he passed the little counter for the wardrobe and went through the door that lead inside the club, the first thing that he noticed was that the place looked actually clean. He honestly had been expecting to be greeted by a cloud of cigarette-smoke (or whatever else the Ricks in here would be smoking) and the sight of a dirty floor, littered with broken bottles or glasses and full of stains of spilled alcohol and vomit. However, the club looked sparkling clean as far as Morty could tell from the entrance. The walls were colored a light blue and the plush carpet on the floor a vibrant pink and everything was covered in the hues of neon lights that were lighting up the place. Right in front of Morty stretched out a bar along the right side of the room. On the stools in front of it sat a few Ricks, idly sipping their drinks or being in conversation, while behind the counter stood a Morty in a fine suit. Obviously, the boy was the barkeeper, as he was making a little show of mixing a drink in one of those metallic tumblers. That was certainly surprising, since the boy hadn't expected to see any Mortys in here. Especially not working in a place that he had at first assumed to be some dirty strip club. The Crazy Rick was apparently a place full of surprises. Morty stopped wondering about that though as he saw the sign that was pointing to the toilets, just past the bar. What a relief that he wouldn't have to make his way through the entire premise, he thought, as he finally dared to step further in. However, as he continued on, he was able to see much more of the club. On the left side, directly opposite from the bar, were tables and round sofas that were occupied by a few other Ricks. What shocked Morty though was not the arrangement or design of the furniture, but the Mortys, who were serving the customers. They wore practically nothing more than underwear! Well, actually it looked like over-sexualized waitress-uniforms, who were barely covering anything. He had seen similar costumes once in one of the many porn movies that he always watched on his laptop. Just that in those videos this outfits were worn by women. Unfortunately, that wasn't even the most shocking sight that would present itself to Morty. Further in the back of the establishment, stood a stage, which was lighted up by spotlights. There were dancing poles on it and he could see some Dancer Ricks in "questionable" outfits. What was more shocking to him, was the sight of Mortys, who were also dancing up there. Surrounding the stage were more tables with comfy sofas and some of the Ricks, who were seated there, had a Morty at their side. One really rich-looking one of them had even two – each on one of his sides. Those Ricks were very obviously groping their Mortys, but the boys didn't seem to mind that. They were actually touching their Ricks all over – one hand vanishing under clothes to touch skin, or lips that would be attached to a neck. It was one of the strangest sights that Morty had ever seen despite having seen a lot of shit in the universe thanks to his Rick already. Unwillingly, his eyes focused on one Morty, who was dancing up on the stage. Since he was standing on the outer, left part of the stage, the boy had a pretty clear view of him. The Dancer Morty wore the typical yellow t-shirt, but it was pulled upwards and tied together, just barely covering his nipples, looking like a crop top. The dark-blue jeans that he wore, had its legs ripped off and were nothing more than really tight and short hot pants. The material was wedge between the crease of his ass cheeks and left nothing to the imagination. At his feet were three Ricks who were wolf whistling and sloshing around the alcohol in their glasses, while the boy danced sensually against his pole. In a fluid movement, the boy slid down on the pole, pushing the cheeks of his perky butt flush against the metal, so that it was rubbing against his cleft. As he did so, the Ricks seemed to go completely crazy. As he was squatting, the old men stuffed a few bills in his too tight pants, before he moved upwards again and continued to dance, grinding his clothed crotch against his inanimate lover. Even from this distance, Morty could hear what they were drunkenly saying – or rather shouting – at the boy on stage. "Fuck, I wish that pole was me!" "Woohoo!" "C'mon! Show daddy what you've got!" 'Oh geez! Just what kind of place is this?!' Morty thought in a panic. Trying to keep himself from hyperventilating, he ripped his sight from the stage and focused back on where he wanted – actually, needed – to go. 'Just a quick dash to the toilet and then I'm out of here!!' With that thought on his mind, he continued his way straight to the restrooms, trying to walk past the bar as fast as he could without drawing any attention to himself. Unfortunately, the not drawing attention part didn't seem to work as a Rick already had set his eyes on him. He turned fully around on his stool and stood up to block Morty's path. "Why hello there. You alone here, cutie?" he asked in a sultry voice as if he wasn't just talking to an alternate version of his grandson. The Rick wore a light blue button-up shirt that was halfway unbuttoned and showed the skin of his chest. He also wore white pants, which were held up by a black belt and matching white, polished shoes. Morty looked up at the man's face as he almost ran into that exposed chest and saw him grin as he looked down at him through his purple tinted, thin-framed aviator sunglasses. "I-I-I just need to use the restrooms." The boy squeaked and hoped that this Rick would just leave him alone. "Oh, I can you bring you there." He said, still in the same tone. This response made Morty panic. He may be dumb, but he wasn't stupid enough to not get the implication that laid in that sentence. "Th-thanks, but I'm fine!" he almost yelled and quickly pushed past the Rick, shoving him back with more force than he intended to and right into the edge of the bar. Morty dashed so fast around the corner that he didn't get to see the sour face that the Rick made afterwards or hearing the chuckles of the few surrounding Ricks, who had watched all of the little encounter. The rejected Rick scowled as he sat back down on his stool and resumed drinking while still keeping his eyes on where the boy had just vanished. As Morty rounded the corner, he walked past a small flight of stairs that seemed to lead to the second floor and then came to a stop in front of two doors. On one was a sign that looked like the head of a Rick and on the other a sign that looked like a Morty head. Morty figured that he shouldn't be surprised that the toilets wouldn't be divided by gender, but by being a Rick or a Morty. Apparently only Ricks and Mortys where at this place anyways. He used the appropriate door, but stopped before he even fully stepped into the restroom and quickly thought if he shouldn't use the other one. The sight that greeted him was that of two Mortys, who were sitting on the sinks on the furthermost right side and were noisily making out with each other. It actually looked like the one on the top was riding the Morty on the bottom, but thankfully they both still had their pants on. For as clean as the club had looked, this room looked just as filthy and Morty feared what the restroom for the Ricks might look like if the one for Mortys was in such a poor state. Aside from that, he was rather scared that he might get assaulted in the other bathroom – or saw something even more mentally scaring than what was happening right in front of his eyes – so he decided to ignore the two boys and just use the stall furthest away. As he sat down and took a leak, he tried to blend out the moans and groans that echoed off of the grimy tiles. This place reeked horrible and the floor was filthy and littered with cigarette butts and used condoms. The large mirror above the sinks had been smashed and there was graffiti all over the walls and stalls – including the little condom dispenser next to the sinks. Thinking about it now, taking a piss outside in the parking lot suddenly sounded much more inviting. Nothing he could do about it now though as he was already in here and had his world shattered once again by the sight of what was going on in this "fine establishment". After he was finally done, he walked over to the sink, using the one on the left to wash his hands and still trying to ignore the dry humping that was going on right next to him. As he hurriedly left the bathroom, he felt relieved and not only because he just emptied his bladder, but also because it meant that he could finally be out of here again. Using the same way that he came, he passed the stairs again and went around the corner. All he needed to do now was get past the bar in one piece and he would be home free. Unfortunately, he didn't get that far as his path was blocked as soon as left that backroom area. It was the same Rick from before again and this time he didn't look so friendly. No, he actually looked pretty livid and the sight scared Morty more than any of the hungry, man-eating aliens he had to run away from on his many adventures before. "I hope you got a little more time for me now?" he asked in a dangerous voice that stated as clear as day that he wouldn't accept a 'no' for an answer. "N-no." Morty dared to say defiantly. "My R-Rick is waiting for me." Morty hoped that the guy would buy the half-lie. Apparently, his answer was the wrong one and it didn't convince the other Rick at all. Suddenly, Morty was slammed against the wall and the Rick held his wrist above his head as he pushed his entire body up against him. The boy struggled against the older man, but was easily overpowered. "No! No! L-let go of me!" he yelled. "I don't think so, my pretty." Rick whispered in his ear. Morty's face scrunched up as the breath that reeked strongly of alcohol wafted easily up to his nose at the close proximity. "NO! HELP! Pl-please—someone help me!!" he shouted desperately. This only caused his assaulter to chuckle. As Morty frantically looked around, he could see that a few Ricks were watching the commotion, but none of them looked like they were even thinking about helping him. Even the Bartender Morty quickly looked the other way as he made eye contact with him. Tears welled up in his eyes as the hopelessness of his situation slowly sank in. No one would come to help him. No one would dare to stop this Rick from doing to him whatever he wanted to do. They both knew it and his attacker moved so that he was pinning both of his wrist with one hand to the wall. The now free hand slid beneath his yellow t-shirt and got a feel for the soft skin underneath. Morty could only whimpered pitifully at the unwanted touch. Even if the boy wanted nothing more than to will it all away, he could feel everything that was happening to him. Felt a finger touching his nipple while his shirt was pulled up. Felt moist lips touch the side of his neck. Felt a knee pressing between his thighs and adding pressuring with a slow grinding motion. Was there really nothing that he could do other than resign himself to his fate? It seemed like his silent prayers were answered though as suddenly all of the sensations vanished. Everything happened so quickly that Morty couldn't follow or quite comprehend what exactly or how it had went down. He only knew that he was released and his assaulter was laying on the floor, sunglasses laying somewhere on the carpet as he was nursing a bloody nose. With wide eyes, he stared at the familiar back that was clad in a white, stained lab coat. "That's my Morty! So fuck off!!" Rick bellowed angrily. The Rick on the floor looked back up and probably wanted to retort something, but stopped just as his mouth opened. Morty wasn't sure, but thought he saw something like fear flash briefly in the other Rick's eyes. As he was told, his assaulter got up, grabbed his broken sunglasses and slowly left the club while mumbling curses loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. As his Rick turned around, Morty could clearly see from the dilated pupils and the glow around the irises that his grandfather was high as fuck. He knew it! He knew that he would take his sweet time and get drunk and high in here! Still, he wouldn't comment on it right now. Not after he felt so grateful that his Rick had come and saved his ass. From the aggravation that was still showing on his face, Morty was actually becoming scared of his grandfather now – fully understanding why the other Rick had backed down so fast – and he was worried that he would be on the receiving end of that anger now. He was supposed to wait in the space car for him after all. To Morty's surprise though, Rick's face suddenly softened, but was oddly enough also still unreadable. "C'mon, Morty. Let—let's the hell get out of here. Blips and Chitz is waiting for us, Morty."

AN: And after that Morty asked Rick for the catheter ^^' (Ironically, I did see that promo video shortly after I had finished writing this.) Also, this was written before I played Pocket Mortys, so I was really amused when I found out that separating restrooms like that is technically canon. Anyways, I'm not very proud of this (especially not with the ending), but there you have it.

[clxvdd]

Self Control- Rock Lee

Summary: Rock Lee and the other Shinobi go out to celebrate a job well done, but his favorite person is nowhere to be seen. Chaos ensues, and his favorite person is the only one who can stop it.

Warnings: drinking, mourning, fluff, tiny bit of angst

Characters/Pairings: Rock Lee x Reader, Naruto, Tenten, Habu (Waiter), the rest of the gang

(fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1903

“Where is (Y/N)?” Lee couldn’t stop himself from asking as his trained eyes searched through the group of ninjas all crowding together at the bar.

He knew it was a bad idea to come in the first place, but he had more self control now and he knew the effects those drinks had on his body. After all, he was here to celebrate and spend time with his friends. They scarcely spent time all together like this.

But it seemed as though someone was missing.

As he entered with Neji at his side, his friends came in waves to come and greet the two with kind smiles and swift hugs, none of them seeming to notice the lack of the shinobi that had caught his eye the most and who was the greatest reason for him to show up. When his teammate herself went to pull away from the greeting, he caught her arm and looked into her eyes with a concerned look.

“Where is she?” He said breathlessly, his mind racing with a thousand different reasons as to why the girl in question was not present. Even without speaking her name, Tenten knew of who he was inquiring about, being (Y/N)’s best friend as well.

“She said she was going to be a little late,” Tenten shook her head lightly, “she had something to take care of.” She plainly stated, not having any more information to give. Pulling her arm out of his grasp gently, she patted his drooping shoulders in solace.

Of course, Lee knew that with everyone’s busy lives and their responsibilities of being a shinobi that not everyone would have time to show up, although he had hoped that person at least would not be her. It was a one out of more than ten chance, but Lee always had the worst luck.

“Come on, Lee, don’t be so down,” Tenten whined as she lead him over to the group again, “she will be here. You can be sad any other night.”

He shook his head but straightened up anyway. The kunoichi was right, tonight was a night of youth and celebration, not of despair. He would live his best moments as (Y/N) would want him to.

Lee didn’t quite know why he was so drawn to you. It wasn’t like his former crush on his, now friend, Sakura. That was simply an infatuation, but with you it felt like more. Like he lived and breathed every day to be able to see your face, and he died a little inside when he couldn’t. You brought out the best and worst in him all at once and he couldn’t explain how, yet no matter what it reigned true.

Again, he shook his head, forcing himself out of his own thoughts and threw himself down into the booth seat next to Naruto. He was determined to be his normal, youthful self without you for a little while, and if he couldn’t– well I’ll just have to do 3,000 more pushups during tomorrow’s training.

“Nice to see ya, buddy!” Naruto exclaimed at the boy, slapping a hand to his jumper clad back. The signature wide grin that he sported was enough to convince him that the night would have to be great. He needed it to be.

Not long after, a young– and bored– waiter rounded the bar to Lee’s table, in one hand a notepad and the other a pen. He cleared his throat lazily and spoke up at the group with a tone similar to the one Shikamaru always used, nearly making Lee laugh at the thought.

“What drinks would you all like to get started off with?”

The table boomed with a variation of drinks, ranging in simplicity and taste, although the overwhelming majority was alcoholic some way or another. Lee had struggled to even hear himself, but requested a simple glass of water nonetheless. The waiter rubbed his forehead and focused in on individual requests, but they all blurred together and he just nodded and retreated back to his station, never even marking the paper with his pen. Thinking he had just been overly intuitive, Lee told himself that he shouldn’t be worrying so much. After all, he had promised himself to enjoy the night. Taking a deep breath and relaxing his previously furrowed brows, he listened in on Naruto’s and Shikamaru’s conversation, soon forgetting all about his anxieties.

It seemed like seconds before the same waiter came back with a tray, for Lee was so busy having fun and joking around with his friends. Setting the tray down and passing around the drinks, the waiter, whom Lee now noticed was named Habu, gave each of them a once-over before speaking again.

“Would you guys like any appetizers or something from our happy hour menu to go with your drinks? They’re 15 percent off for the next 20 minutes,” He glanced at his watch to confirm. Upon hearing this, the group– Kiba, Choji, and Naruto mainly– began throwing out orders in a chaotic fashion, not even bothering to take their time. Lee grasped the glass in front of him with a loose shake of his head and proceeded to take a long sip of the still, clear drink, believing it to be the water he asked for.

Of course, he realized it wasn’t when the familiar burn of his throat and tastebuds reached his brain and his eyes widened before drooping as he lost his grasp on his supposed self control.

Meanwhile, across the village was a girl, made small by her posture crouched over a large stone burial site with flowers in her hand. Her long hair fell over her face in wisps and her shoulders heaved, taking a long sigh before placing a finger to the cool rock.

“I miss you, mom,” she whispered as she took another shaky breath, blowing her hair out of her face, “I have so much to tell you.”

“For starters, I completed another successful mission yesterday,” the girl continued staring solemnly at the letters she had imprinted in her brain from reading over and over, “I’ve grown a lot. I’m not a little girl anymore,” she huffed then followed it with a breathy chuckle. Nervously picking at the skin of her fingers, she spoke again.

“I met a boy. Surprising, I know, but I really think he could mean something,” she smiled faintly as she thought of the boy with the bushiest brows and brightest attitude she had ever seen. He always made her feel important, like she was ruler of everything in the universe, but she was just her. Plain little (Y/N) from the village hidden in the leaves. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’m going to see him again tonight. I know you would like him, mom,” again she leaned her head down towards the grave, a tear slipping from her eye, staining the gray surface, “you really would.”

Then, all at once, (Y/N) stood up from her position and heaved. This was hard. Even though she had been coming to her mother’s grave frequently for almost 3 years, she never knew how to say goodbye. She didn’t like it. It reminded her of the last time she had meant it. Wordlessly she turned away, beginning her walk back into the village where she would be meeting her friends to celebrate their successes. Hopefully that would cheer her up.

Along the way she passed many shops and buildings, most of them closed for the night. The scenery at this time was beautiful, though, and she took her time in making it to the bar she had been invited to.

As she turned the corner, a stream of people, all panicked and hurried, pushed past her away from the direction she was headed. Confused, she kept towards it and the kunoichi approached closer to her destination, the chaos growing with screams and loud sounds of breaking, cracking, pushing, demolishing.

With one glance she gasped, her hands dropping to her side as she ran towards the once bustling building.

“Where is she?!” Her ears perked up with the familiar voice in such an unfamiliar tone. She knew it had to be Lee, there was no doubts about that, but what he was doing was another story. And who was this girl that he had mentioned?

“Where is (Y/N)?”

Another gasp left the girl’s lips and she furrowed her brows in determination and understanding. If it was her he wanted then it was her he would get. She had heard stories about Lee’s troubles with the burning liquid, but she wrote them off as exaggerations and never had she seen it for herself until now.

“Lee?” She almost whispered as she warily opened the door to the destroyed building. A chair flew past her head as she ducked and squinted to focus on the taijutsu specialist. Noticing he was distracted with his back turned towards her, he towered over the group of shinobi before slurring again.

“Where is she, where is she, where is she??!” he growled as he stomped his feet and evaded every attempt his friends had to try and catch him, “I want her! I want to see her!” He stomped again, swaying slightly before he heard a gentle voice from behind him, almost too soft for his ears.

“Lee?”

The raging boy turned as his eyes landed on the girl he had been calling for. All of the sudden he felt guilty. He felt everything. Dropping the furniture that had once been raised over his head, he swayed his way over to her, stopping just short of arm’s length.

His breath caught in his throat when his half-lidded eyes ran over your concerned face. Your hair was loose, messy even, but it was still the most beautiful he had ever seen you. The red in your eyes was a clear tell that you had been crying and he reached a hand out with a pang in his full heart. Your eyes never once left him as he grew closer and closer to you, his hand holding yours.

One step, he was close enough to hug you.

Another step, you could feel his breath on your cheeks and smell the alcohol on his tongue.

Another, he pressed his chest to yours, still holding your hand as you gazed up into his glittering eyes.

“I’m here, Lee,” You whispered.

Your heart was beating so fast it could’ve quit on you right then, but you wouldn’t have noticed. All you had on your mind was Lee. Lee and that stupid face of his.

“I’m right here.”

And you took him into your arms, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. His arms came under yours to drag you impossibly closer to him and the next thing you knew his lips were on yours.

Tender. Gentle. Soft. All uncharacteristic of Lee, but when your lips moved together as one of a whole it felt just right, like everything was meant to lead up to this. You knew he felt the same.

[citrinekay]

2: i loved in "two inches to the left" the brief mention of Bill's apartment being almost barren and impersonal--would love to see something about Holden moving in and helping fill those spaces. whether it's them actively doing it together, or Bill realizing after awhile that Holden has helped him make a house into a home, so to speak.

Me: I love angst. I’m an angst master. give me all the pain and suffering. 

Also me getting this prompt: i’m just a soft baby. love poetry and sappiness. give me all the tooth-rotting fluff. 

You have been warned!

Holden hadn’t had many stipulations when he agreed to move in. The only thing he wanted to bring from his old, bachelor lifestyle was his collection of books. In his old apartment, he didn’t have much room for the ever-growing number of paperbacks, and a dismaying handful of them had never made it outside of his moving boxes. 

In retrospect, he’d never meant to stay at that apartment for so long. When he’d first returned from his brick agent days in Chicago, he’d rented the apartment with the plan - or rather belief - that he’d soon get back into the dating pool and find someone to move on with. As it turned out, his new job in witness protection hadn’t afforded him much time to break into the dating scene.

 It wasn’t until he met Debbie that he thought he might be onto something. But Debbie wasn’t all that interested in hanging around his apartment or his book collection. She had her own books and ideas, and so the paperbacks stayed in their boxes. Then came Kemper and the study, profiling, consults, work days that bled into one another with few breaks in between. Holden’s book collection gathered dust in his guest bedroom even as it continued to grow. 

They’re enjoying an unusual weekend off in downtown Fredricksburg when Holden pulls Bill into a vintage book shop that’s displaying a second edition of John Keats in the window. 

Bill looks on in amusement as Holden forks over the cash for the volume. 

“I didn’t know you were a poetry guy.”

“You learn something new every day.” Holden says, gleefully taking the bag from the cashier. “I have a pretty big collection of books in my apartment. I just don’t have the time to read all of them.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, mostly still boxed up.” Holden says as they step out of the shop and back onto the bustling sidewalk. “I don’t have a shelf for them.”

“We should get you one.”

“Maybe we can.” Holden says, “That giant, bare wall in your living room would make the perfect spot.”

Maybe he hadn’t really meant to say it, or though it would come out as a jest. But Bill stops walking behind him, and Holden gets several feet up the sidewalk before he realizes Bill isn’t matching his pace. 

“What?” Holden asks, wandering back down the sidewalk to Bill’s side. 

“Are you inviting yourself to move in with me?” Bill asks, a conflicted look of disbelief and eagerness colliding in the lopsided smile on his mouth. 

“It was a joke.” Holden says, giving a forced chuckle. “Right?”

Bill shrugs. “A joke. Sure.”

The joke lasts for a week before Bill brings it up again. They’re lying in a hotel bed across the country, in California where the sun is shining through the window, and the air on the West Coast is starting to have a familiar tang. 

Bill’s fingertips wander down Holden’s arm, awakening goosebumps. 

“It’s not such a bad idea, you know.” He says, “You moving in with me.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. We practically live together as it is.” 

“It would be more efficient.” Holden says, adjusting his cheek against Bill’s shoulder, and smoothing a hand over his bare ribs. “One mortgage, fewer bills …”

“I’m not talking about that.” 

Holden slowly lifts his head from Bill’s chest. Bill’s eyes are somber, that storm-cloud gray that makes Holden want to live inside them - and now he can have it every day without interruption if he wants.  

“Me either. Not really.” He whispers, his chest aching with a sudden joyful longing. 

Though they never really said it aloud, the decision had already been made. The next week when they get back into town, Holden cleans out his apartment. The last thing he loads up are the boxes of books which has now grown to an even six. The Keats book is sitting on the top of the last box that he slides into his trunk. A smile fixes itself on his mouth as he climbs behind the wheel and drives away from Essex House for the last time. 

~

The power drill whirs as it slides the last nail in place, completing the polished, walnut bookcase Holden had picked from a dozen other choices at the store. Bill sets the tool aside, and runs a hand across the finished corner. 

“You think it’s big enough?” He asks, shooting a teasing glance at the stacks of boxes sitting in the corner of the living room. 

“It better be.” Holden says, climbing to his feet. “Here, help me stand it up.”

They each take an end, carefully pulling the bookcase up from the floor, and guiding it to its spot along the wall. Bill takes a step back to survey the new fixture in his living room. Aside from a few pictures of Brian, there aren’t many personal touches in his house. He’d moved in here a few months after the divorce was finalized, and had never taken the time to decorate. He kept the place clean, but with the amount of traveling they do for work, the house had sat mostly empty for the past few years, looking more like the inside of a home improvement magazine than a lived-in, nurtured space. The simple addition of the bookcase feels revolutionary, but it isn’t just the piece of furniture that’s injecting warmth into this previously cold space. 

Bill slips his arm around Holden’s waist, and pulls him to his side. 

“It looks good, baby.” 

“Yeah, really good.” Holden whispers, resting his head on Bill’s shoulder. 

Bill glances down when he hears Holden sniffs, quietly. “Hey, what’s the matter? Don’t tell me you hate it.”

“I don’t. I love it.” Holden says, casting Bill a misty gaze and trembling smile. “It’s what I always wanted.”

Bill gives his lower back a reassuring pat. “Good. How about we put the books up there?”

“Okay.” 

Holden drags out the first box with a delicate touch, almost a reverence. He takes out each book, inspecting the spine carefully before arranging them on the shelf. Bill grabs the second box, and starts from the other side of the bookshelf. They meet in the middle after unpacking the sixth and final box. There’s still one empty shelf. 

“And room for more.” Bill observes. 

“You shouldn’t encourage me.” Holden says, “I have a real problem. I haven’t read half of the books I already have.”

“Why not?”

“Do I seem like a guy with a lot of time on his hands?” Holden asks, running his fingertips along the spines of the books. 

“We could make time.” Bill says. 

Holden casts him a fond glance. “I would love that.”

“How about drink?” Bill says, climbing to his feet. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” 

Holden lingers by the bookshelf while Bill gets up to retrieve glasses. Among his drink selections is a good bottle of scotch Wendy had bought him when they finished the study. She’d told him to open it on a special occasion. He hadn’t found that moment until now. 

Grabbing the scotch and the glasses, Bill goes back into the living room to find Holden sitting cross-legged on the carpet with the Keats book open in his lap. 

Bill pours them both a drinks, and offers a glass to Holden. Sitting down on the floor beside Holden, he wraps an arm around him, and peeks over his shoulder at the words on the page. 

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.” He reads the first few lines quietly. 

Holden glances over at him, a smile quivering on his mouth for a moment before he presses a kiss to Bill’s mouth. When he leans back, he laughs quietly, “I never thought I would hear you read poetry to me.”

“Neither did I.” Bill says, chuckling into his sip of scotch. 

He tightens his grasp around Holden’s waist, impressing the warmth of Holden’s body into his mind like some kind of signpost that this moment is real - just as real as precinct after precinct, dead bodies, killers, questions in the dark. And it’s not just the poetry that’s surprising; he never really thought these four walls would feel like a real home. He thought he’d lost that forever. 

“Keep going.” Holden whispers. 

Bill takes another drink of the scotch to loosen the thickness in his throat before he turns his gaze back to the old words on the page trodding across his mind now as if they were somehow new and radical. 

“Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing

A flowery band to bind us to the earth,

Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,

Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways

Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall

From our dark spirits.”

[lukes-writing]

Chapter 3: The Lord of Flies

Project introduction | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Word count: 2300 Warnings: None

September 22nd, 1:17 PM, Confederation district, Trinity Gate

With Parker and Whisper enlisted, Wiccan already has half of the recruits on his side. Now he drives his old Chevrolet to the Confederation district.

After the relaxing walk with Whisper through the Great Moors district, it can’t be said entering the area attached to the Central Confederation is a pleasant change. Instead of picturesque greenhouses and fields, the district offers mainly factories, refineries and ugly, rectangular blocks of flats. Even though the sun is still shining, the smoke coming from numerous smokestacks contributes to the gloomy atmosphere.

No, the Confederation district is neither a slum or a ghetto. It’s just the least welcoming of the three districts.

When Wiccan studied the third recruit’s files for the first time, he expected him to be from the Great Moors district - however, the file proved him wrong. However, it’s understandable why did he settle in the Confederation district. The rent here isn’t as expensive as it is in the Great Moors or the Northeast.

Wiccan already knows this guy lost his family at a young age and spent his childhood in a foster home with people who already had seven other kids in their foster care. He reached adulthood just recently and now he’s living a humble life in a small flat - the only one he can afford from the salary of a pet shop clerk.

In fact, Wiccan has doubts if this guy will be suitable for the job. But he can’t know unless he meets the guy in person. And that’s his plan for now.

The man has an old-fashioned car radio in his car and, as always, he has his favorite 80s radio station turned on. He’s singing along to Van Halen as he drives through the Core to the border separating it from the Confederation district.

First, he sees a decent-looking neighborhood with family houses and small alleys of trees, several general stores, a supermarket and several other useful facilities. The farther he drives, the more industrial and gray the district gets. The nice neighborhoods disappear to make room for housing estates full of blocks of flats and crowded city squares where the various stores are so crammed together the place has zero aesthetic value.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to drive much further since the navigation in his Chevy tells him he’s just a few hundred meters away from his goal. After several long minutes of maneuvering on the parking lot in search for an empty parking place, he leaves the car and walks towards the block nearby while still humming the Bon Jovi song that played on the radio before he got off.

The people here also seem… somewhat less happy than in the remaining districts. They usually stare at the screens of their mobile phones, paying no attention to each other. Contrary to that, the Great Moors district Whisper comes from is always vibrant and resonates with cheerful talking of its inhabitants.

Wiccan hopes that the guy he came for isn’t as uptight.

He enters the block whose address he noted and takes the stairs to get to the fourth floor even though there’s an elevator there. Then he finally knocks at the door with the name tag saying Underwood on it.

A few seconds later, the door opens a crack and Wiccan hears a timid, quiet voice: “Yes…? Who is this?”

“My name is Wiccan Salisbury and I’ve come to talk,” the man announces. “No need to be afraid.”

“Are you some kind of peddler? Because I… I don’t want anything.”

Wiccan rolls his eyes. This guy would really need to man up if he decided to accept his offer. “No, I’m not a peddler. I came here to discuss your hobby.”

The door finally opens fully.

The ELIPSA files of Gary Underwood, the young man in front of Wiccan, already had his photos included. But the reality is even… less impressive than the pictures.

First of all, Wiccan has to look slightly down to make eye contact with this guy even though Wiccan himself isn’t a tall man at all.

“Hey,” Gary says with the same timid voice.

Gary Underwood isn’t only short, but also rather chubby. A perfect contrast to the tall, lanky Parker Skellinger. He tries to gain some centimeters by growing a large, curly afro (or more like a Jew-fro, even though Wiccan doesn’t remember if Gary has any Semitic roots) on his head. He also apparently tries to grow a beard and a mustache, but the results are rather sorry so far.

His nose which is a bit flat resides on his round face alongside surprisingly intelligent brown eyes. Gary’s smile is just as timid as his voice, as if he needed permission to give a full smile. He’s wearing a gray hoodie and black sweatpants - which may be a futile attempt to mask his chunky frame.

Wiccan finds Gary… somehow interesting. But he has some doubts about his competence.

“Can I come in?” Wiccan asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Gary gestures him in.

First of all, Wiccan notices a strange smell accompanied by constant buzzing coming from an unknown source. Even though Gary lives alone, his flat is surprisingly neat, although it’s hopelessly small. There is a small living room which apparently also serves as a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom and one more room which has its door closed. The living space is especially tiny compared to shamelessly huge Archer-Gutenberg mansion.

“Do you want some tea?” Gary offers and Wiccan accepts.

When the younger man disappears into the kitchen, Wiccan takes another look around the place. Most of the furniture is made of wood and the walls are painted with a pleasant light brown paint. There is also a large bookshelf similar to Whisper’s. While it also contains fiction books, most of them are encyclopedias, all dealing with similar topics: biology, zoology and especially… insects.

Wiccan would never guess so much can be written just about bugs.

He also realizes the buzzing sound is coming from the room with the closed door.

Soon after, Gary brings the tea and seats Wiccan on a cheap, yet still comfortable couch in the middle of the room. They engage in small talk - Wiccan knows it’s probably necessary to break this man’s apparent shyness. Some minutes later, Gary seems to be more comfortable with the visit.

“You said you came because of my… hobby, right?” Gary plays into Wiccan’s cards by this question, and Wiccan seizes the opportunity.

“Yes, I indeed did. So, care if you showed me?”

Gary finally seems to show some enthusiasm. He takes Wiccan to the closed door and opens them. The buzzing sound grows significantly louder, and the odor Wiccan caught upon entering the flat also becomes more intense. Gary steps inside and Wiccan follows him.

The room apparently used to be a bedroom. However, Gary has rearranged the inside to fit his needs more. The room is filled with glass terrariums with living beings inside. Insects. Dozens of species, thousands of units. Each of the terrariums is designed and decorated with almost motherly love to mimic the species’ natural habitat as much as possible.

“Holy shit,” Wiccan gasps. A slight smile on Gary’s face gives away he’s proud of his collection. Flies, roaches, beetles, crickets and locusts, dragonflies - all shapes and sizes. There is also a small, neat beehive in the corner of the room and several anthills.

Wiccan was never squeamish about bugs and other creepy-crawlies, but the sight of this colony makes his skin crawl. There are gaps between the rows of terrariums wide just enough to allow Gary’s pudgy body walk between them. Wiccan wonders how would Gary’s landlord feel if they knew about this.

Even though Gary’s collection is somehow creepy, Wiccan realizes he’s also fascinated. Each terrarium is labeled with a tag containing the species name and several other notes the man doesn’t understand. Some of the bugs are rather common, but there are also far more exotic ones.

One especially big terrarium contains several giant beetles with black and white patterns on their shards. They measure about ten centimeters and Wiccan would swear their looks are full of hostility. The tag reads Goliathus regius. Another cubicle appears empty, until the twigs scattered inside start to move. Medauroidea extradentata.

Wiccan would need hours to take a look at all these beings, but right now, he has no time to spare.

“Why insects?” Wiccan asks, back in Gary’s living room.

The short man shrugs. “I guess they are small and insignificant. Just like me,” he replies.

When Wiccan read some of Gary’s files gathered by The Society, he found out that this man was a frequent target of harsh bullying at school. Looking at Gary, Wiccan realizes he indeed is a type often targeted by bullies. The question remains - is Gary this quiet and timid because of the bullying, or did the other kids bully him because of his personality? Wiccan doesn’t know and doesn’t intend to ask.

However, Gary starts speaking by himself.

“As you probably deduced already, my childhood wasn’t anything extra,” the man speaks and his tone of voice gives away it’s been a while he spoke to a being with fewer than six legs outside his workplace. “The foster family I lived in seemed to take care of children just to get the benefits and it was actually my oldest foster brother who took care of me better than these two people who were supposed to be my new parents.

At school, it was even worse. You probably have no idea what it is to be a chubby, short nerd in a whole class of bullies and jocks.” A slight sting of reproach can be heard in his voice. “So I started to spend as much time as possible outside. One benefit of my foster family was that they lived in the Great Moors district, so we had some beautiful surroundings.

Long story short, I started to be fascinated by insects. They are… so small, yet they can thrive when they use their special abilities. Most insects are like superheroes! Did you know that, for example…”

“Not now,” Wiccan urges him gently. He doesn’t want to let Gary know that his whole life is in the files he has in his car. “What I need to know is… there are rumors that your relationship with insects isn’t just within the scope of a hobby.” When he notices Gary’s horrified look, he quickly corrects himself. “I mean… you have some kind of special ability, do you? It can be described as an insect whisperer.”

Gary scowls. “How… how do you know?”

“That’s not important. I just need to know if it’s true.”

“I guess it is,” Gary reluctantly nods. “But I wouldn’t call it a whisperer since it seems to work a bit differently. You know, I guess I’m able to tap into their hive mind and control it. It sounds strange, but… yeah. I discovered this ability when I was about ten, after I sent a group of red ants to attack my foster sister after she was making fun of me. I didn’t want to, but…”

Wiccan has a feeling that even though initially timid, Gary is more than eager to rant about his personal life and problems endlessly. “Care to demonstrate it?” he interrupts once again.

Gary sighs and nods. He walks into his insect room and comes back with a terrarium containing an anthill. He lays it on the floor and opens the glass lid. Then, his face shows intense focus.

Soon after, an army of ants emerges from the anthill. They climb the glass wall, line up on the floor and then regroup to form letters. Wiccan watches in awe as he sees GARY RULES! spelled with hundreds of ant bodies. Then, the army disperses again and obediently crawls back into the anthill.

“It’s… kinda impressive, right?” Gary looks at Wiccan, once again with the insecure smile on his lips.

“It’s awesome!” Wiccan says. “Now, when I know what you are capable of, I can proceed to the offer I have for you. First of all, I’m going to tell you it involves a house in the Great Moors district, free of rent - just for you and your bugs. Does it sound tempting?”

Gary opens his eyes wide. “Like… really? With a house… I could raise countless more species! And I can build an aviary for butterflies and moths I always wanted! But… where’s the catch?”

“It involves accepting a job offer for a job others can only dream about,” Wiccan replies. “A job for a team that can take advantage of your bug-taming abilities. I won’t lie to you - it can get risky and dangerous. But if you accepted, your life would improve immediately and you would have more space for your hobby… and also more money. What do you say?”

“Dangerous…?” Gary scowls.

“I see you’re the type who prefers playing it safe,” Wiccan looks Gary in the eyes. “However, there is a time when you realize you have to take some action, some risk. I know your childhood taught you to stay aside and don’t drag attention to yourself. But the question is: do you want to live your whole life like that?”

“I… I guess I don’t,” Gary whispers.

“Can’t hear ya,” Wiccan smiles.

Gary takes a deep breath. “No, I don’t!” he says a little more loudly and Wiccan nods in satisfaction.

 Author’s Note

I wholeheartedly thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if you did, please leave a comment, send me a message or share and let more people know about this story! You can also consider a small donation at www.paypal.me/lukassladky. Have a great day and stay tuned for the next chapter!

[ohlovelyvampires]

Au Pair in France, part 3

So, so sorry for the delay. I’ve been meaning to update since June, but it was a tough year. In here you have a super long update to (hopefully) make up for the wait. Happy new year everyone! Lots of love.

There are probably a ton of mistakes in here, I just hope you can read past them and enjoy the story. I wrote this with much love for you guys!

in here you have my AO3 account where you can find the rest of the story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174917/chapters/30134580

Warning: explicit sex scenes in this chapter. Read at your own risk.

When Katniss woke up, still in a sleep-induced haze, in a bed that wasn’t her own, her first reaction was panic. That until she recognized the furniture arranged around the room and the colors of the walls. Peeta’s walls.

Oh.

She stretched out her sore limbs, the plush mattress cushioning her body making it infinitely difficult for her to get up and face the music; but the strong smell of coffee reached her nostrils, and as a much as she wanted to lay in bed for a while longer, she wanted coffee much more. Besides, her nightly companion wasn’t in bed either, so there was no reason for her to laze around anymore. The brightness streaming through the blinds proved it was around 7 in the morning. They had gone to bed late last night, but the both were early risers by nature.

As usual, it was fucking freezing in France. And her clothing, or lack thereof, only a pair of panties and a soft cotton shirt, didn’t provide much aide against the feel of sharp needles prickling her sensitive skin. She shivered and looked around the room until she noticed Peeta’s robe hanging from the back of his bedroom door. She didn’t have time to over analyze whether it would be a good idea or not to wear it, her hands already tying the sash around her waist.

She walked barefoot down the stairs, silent as she could be. She heard an enthusiastic whistling around in the kitchen and bit her lip, whether out of nervousness or just to keep herself from smiling, she didn’t know.

Peeta was whistling a happy tune, clearly reflecting his good mood of the day. She couldn’t recognize the melody, until he started singing. She tried not to cringe at his voice, managing to keep in a snort. He once had said to her that he didn’t sing because he sounded like a whining or dying cat, and she’d assured him that probably wasn’t true.

Well, he didn’t sound like a dying cat; but it certainly sounded like a cat that was suffering a lot.

She decided to step in just as he turned around to set a plate on the table. His eyes widened and he instantly stopped singing, choking on his own voice, his cheeks exploding red. She was sure her eyes danced with mirth. “Uh...” Peeta babbled.

“Bonjour?” Katniss elaborated.

He seemed to recover quickly after that, clearing his throat. “Bonjour indeed,” he set the plate, which held fruit, on the table and wiped his hands on his checkered pajama pants, which he completed with a wool sweater over the shirt he had put on the night before. It was an odd combination of sexy and adorable.

The whole combination that represented one-hundred-percent Peeta Mellark, she’d decided.

Neither of them had anything to say, it seemed, since the silence was almost awkward. Peeta studied her from head to toe and smiled upon seeing her in his clothes. He opted for not saying anything regarding Katniss’s attire. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” she gulped. He quickly took a mug from the cupboard and filled it with the dark liquid. He handed her the mug and their fingers brushed. Electricity exploded through her body. Peeta seemed to think the same thing, because he looked at her intently.

“I, uh, I made some omelets,” he scratched the back of his neck. She mentally gave herself a pat in the back for not looking down at the new display of skin above the waistband of his pants or thinking about where that path led to. Or the way his muscles of his arm tightened around the fabric.

Nope, she wasn’t thinking about that at all.

“It smells good,” Katniss said stupidly.

“Well, let’s sit,” he grabbed two plates from the counter and set one in front of her, sitting himself across from her spot. She quickly sat down, willing her stomach not rumble at the smell. She was sure that since she got to France she had to have put up at least 10 pounds or something like that, thanks to Peeta’s cooking.

“Mushrooms and sausage, I know you like them,”

She thought the whole thing was funny; Peeta was only 24, a few years older than her, and he acted so homely. Most guys his age were partying every night, no true direction set on where they wanted to go, meanwhile Peeta handed a house, a business and a kid.

“I do, thanks,” cue more silence. Katniss eyed the empty chair.

“Have you talked to Rye this morning?” she asked and stuffed her mouth with a piece of omelet. She groaned around the fork, and Peeta flushed.

“I did, about 15 minutes ago. He wanted to talk to you but I told him you were sleeping,” he looked at his plate. “At least Finnick mentioned he spent the rest of the night sleeping soundly, no more nightmares,”

She sighed. “That’s a relief, at least,” Peeta nodded in agreement. “Maybe we should go pick him up after breakfast,”

“There’s no need. Finnick said he would drop him off after breakfast before he has to leave for work.”

Katniss’s eyes widened. It was Monday. “Shit.” Whose idea was it to go clubbing on a Sunday night and why would she think it was a good one?

Madge. Never again.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she eyed the clock hanging from the wall. 7:16. That was way too late for baker’s hours.

“Um, technically, I guess,” he stuttered. “I just, um, I thought I could take the day off. I didn’t want you to wake up alone,”

He blinked, “Although… you did wake up alone, but you know what I mean,”

“Oh,”

Her heart pounded, and the night’s before memories rushed to her. From Peeta’s sudden appearance at the club she was at, to dancing together and finally kissing, to them leaving the establishment together and ending up in his room…

…not much had happened after that, though.

After they got to the house and Peeta, ever the gentleman, made sure she was one-hundred-percent into what could arise between them, he took her up to his room, where he continued lavishing her with his tongue. He took his time undressing her, worshipping her body, everywhere his tongue and lips could reach.

She had been down only to her lingerie, bra and pantie set, while he remained still fully clothed above her. With all the strength she could muster, she pushed him down on the bed next to her and straddled his hips, dry humping his erection. She gasped out loud when it stimulated her clit.

“Merde,” Peeta had groaned.

She ran her hands over his torso, itching to feel the muscles hidden from her prying eyes by his dark shirt. She wasted no more time and inched his shirt up, revealing milky white skin. She stuck his head through the hole and threw the shirt somewhere behind her. Together they unzipped his pants and got him rid of it. The gray boxers he had on did a very poor job on concealing his throbbing erection. She licked her lips self-consciously, Peeta’s stare burning through her.

In a brazen rush of bravery, she grasped his thick erection through the fabric of his underwear and Peeta groaned, thrusting inwardly against her hand. “Katniss,” he looked at her and then down at himself again. She got the message and got off him so he could lift his hips while she pulled the garment down his legs. Her eyes widened at his size, and she gulped a little.

Back in Panem, when Johanna had been helping her pack her bags, she mentioned she had previously read an article –with statistics, Brainless; statistics don’t lie, Johanna had sighed– that said French men were within the smallest range of dick sizes in Europe. Katniss had only rolled her eyes, completely uninterested. Trust Jo to search for Europeans’ dick sizes.

Based on Peeta though, she couldn’t tell whether those statistics Jo mentioned had been all bullshit or if he was the exception, not the rule. Anyhow, she guessed she was lucky. She had never given much thought to a man’s dick, but Peeta Mellark’s cock was worthy of admiration; it was imposing, and it made her feel hot all over, for sure.  

She had her bra unhooked, and it was time for his eyes to widen when her breasts came to view. His hands rose from her thighs where they had been resting previously to her stomach. He threw longing glances at her boobs.

“Can I…?” she took his hands and pressed them against her chest. She heaved a sigh. She expected his hands to be cold, but he was warm. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth while he played with her breasts, massaging them. She moaned, which seemed to spur him on. Baker’s hands, no doubt. At her sighs and moans his eyes widened every time, and he looked at her as if she hung the moon and the stars.

She had never met anyone who looked at her like that. It was a good feeling, she had decided, being looked at so warmly.

With his hands still on her chest she leaned down to kiss him, and she realized how much it turned her on, just kissing him. Even from her own barely-there experience, she could tell he was a great kisser. Their tongues battled, and he groaned against her mouth. Their teeth clashed with the awkward position, so he sat back up and pulled her along, mouths still attached. She could feel her panties soaking wet with her arousal, while Peeta thrust against her, his tip oozing out pre cum, making her panties even wetter. They were still kissing harshly, tongue and lips everywhere, when a shrill sound resonated through the quietness of the room and over the sound of their moans and groans. Katniss ripped her lips from his in surprise.

“Ton portable,” she whispered. It was Peeta’s phone.

“Ignore it,” Peeta mumbled and pulled her mouth back to his, his hand caressing the nape of her neck. He kissed her thoroughly, so hard the sound of the phone actually went deaf to her ears, so much she didn’t even notice when it did stop ringing. Peeta took advantage of the newly recovered peace and lay her down back under him. Her legs opened on their own accord to welcome him in.

Through the closed door, once again, the sound of a phone was heard. The landline. Once again, Peeta didn’t acknowledge the ringing, as if it didn’t exist; and neither of them stopped, lips strongly attached. She didn’t pay attention to when it stopped ringing, but she heard when his cellphone went off again from somewhere in his pants thrown across the floor of the room.

He ripped his lips from her.  “Leave me the fuck alone,” Peeta cursed angrily at whoever was on the other end of the line, sighing.

“Go get it,”

“Really?” he frowned.

“The quicker you get rid of them the quicker we can go back to this with no interruptions,” she grinded against him and his eyes rolled back in blind pleasure. He pressed a fleeting kiss to her forehead and gave her an apologetic stare. She settled back against the pillows and flushed when he turned to give her one a look that burned all the way down to her core.

His face did a complete 180 turn when he finally found his phone and looked at the screen. “Finnick, qu'est que-ce passe? Je suis très occupé,” she didn’t hear what Finnick said, but she saw Peeta’s demeanor change completely. He picked his pants from the floor and winced when he tucked himself in. “Je vais le prendre maintenant,”

Her ears instantly perked up. Pick Rye up? Had something happened? She pulled a sheet over her nearly naked body and looked at Peeta, eyes wide. His back was to her, phone held tightly against his ear. “Peeta?”

He turned at the sound of her voice and looked at her imploringly, as if begging for forgiveness for something he had yet to do. “Bien, laisse moi parler avec lui,” Peeta sat next to her on the bed and pulled his hand over the microphone, “It’s Rye. Apparently he had a bad nightmare, he woke up very scared,”

“Oh,” she frowned. “I’ll go get dressed so we can go get him,”

“Wait a moment,” he said and put the speaker on. They waited in silence until they heard Rye’s voice through the line. He sounded tired and broken. “Papa?”

“Hey little guy,” Peeta said in French. “Finnick mentioned you had a nightmare. Are you okay?”

“I had a bad dream. You were gone,” Rye whispered and her heart wrinkled.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream, and I know it seems real, but I promise you I’m here, and I’m always going to be here for you. I’m coming to get you,”

“I thought you said you were going out with Katniss,” Rye sounded confused. Peeta looked at her warily.

“Um, we did, son. Go out I mean,” he gulped. His erection still strained against his jeans, but it had softened a bit. She bit her lip. “We’re back home now, and we can go pick you up if you want,”

Rye seemed to think it over. “No thanks,” he said finally, easily.

Katniss blinked. She looked at Peeta, brow furrowed, as if to confirm she had heard Rye right. He seemed troubled too.

“Why not?”

“So you can be alone with Katniss for a while,” Her mouth dropped open, as did Peeta’s. She was pretty sure her cheeks were on fire.

“Um, Rye… Katniss and I…”

“You always look at her funny. Uncle Finnick says they’re called puppy eyes,” She worried her lip and felt Peeta tense up next to her.

“I uh, I think we can discuss that later, Rye,” his cheeks were flushed.

“Okay,” Rye said simply, agreeing.

Peeta looked at her, eyes wild. She gave him a tight, closed lips smile and he slipped his fingers through hers.

Rye and Peeta talked for a while longer, but she tuned out their voices, her brain mushed from tiredness and trying to understand everything they said in French. She was lost in her own thoughts, and her eyes were starting to close. After the club and when they got to the house, she was ready to go all the way with Peeta, but now, after hearing what Rye said, she wasn’t sure that having sex with Peeta would make things easier. Perhaps they both should take some time to think it through before taking that step.

She knew sex could be just sex with some people. But Katniss had a feeling it wouldn’t be just sex between Peeta and her.

Peeta was on the phone with Rye for about 20 minutes, until the little boy’s sentences were nothing more than quiet mumbles, and after he talked to Finnick, who encouraged him to go back to what he was doing.

“Who you’re doing, wink, wink,” Finnick cajoled through the line. At some point Katniss had gotten tired of sitting on the edge of the bed and moved back against the headboard.

“Call me if anything else happens, douchebag,” Peeta rolled his eyes good-naturedly before hanging up. He rolled back and sat next to her. He sensed the change in the atmosphere, and didn’t try to initiate anything, didn’t even try to take her hand. Physically, they were sitting side by side, but emotionally they were miles away. Or at least she was; she couldn’t tell with Peeta.

“The mood is officially ruined by now,” he tried to joke. She threw a quick glance at his lap. Yup, no visible erection. And she wasn’t exactly wet either, just sitting there uncomfortably, trying not to squirm at the remains of her arousal between her legs and previously soaked panties.

“Did I fuck up?” he had asked in the dark, switching back to English. She instantly shook her head no.

“You did nothing wrong,”

“Then why do I feel something is broken?” she felt his eyes burning through her in the dark.

“Nothing is broken, I assure you. I just… tend to overanalyze everything and those minutes you talked to Rye gave me some time to think, and maybe this,” she motioned to their bodies, “shouldn’t happen right this second.”

Peeta nodded rigidly. “I know what you mean, and I totally respect that,”

“But?”

He chuckled. “No buts, I just really wanted this to happen,”

She looked at him pointedly, “I didn’t say it wasn’t going to happen, just that it shouldn’t happen right now. Maybe it could happen in a month or a year, or tomorrow even, who knows?” she saw Peeta sit up straighter at that. She tried not to smile at his enthusiasm.

“I just think that we should… let it simmer for a while, see what happens. And, meanwhile, think it through. The consequences, I mean,” she finished.

“I have given it more than one thought to the consequences, believe me. I know many things could go wrong, but I thought I’d be an idiot not to give it a try and tell you how I feel,” He shrugged. “And I did. You didn’t say much after, but at least I know you want me too,” he grinned cockily and glanced at her crotch.

She blushed and rolled her eyes, not really annoyed.

“Well, um, I’ll think some more for the both of us.”

“Sure, whatever makes you feel more comfortable,” his smirk was still present on his face.

“What’s with the smug look?” she scowled.

He laughed. “Nothing at all. I think you’re just delaying the inevitable, Katniss, but whatever makes you sleep better at night,”

She sputtered indignantly. “You’re so confident, aren’t you?” this was a new façade of Peeta she had yet to see. Bolder, prouder, flirtier. She didn’t hate it, not one bit. It made him even sexier.

She wasn’t about to tell him that though.

“I would say that, yeah,” Peeta shrugged, but he traded his smug smirk for the soft smile that was indistinctively Peeta.

She bit her lip, feeling her lips inch upwards. “Well, I, uh, I guess I’ll be going back to my own room now,”

His face fell, although he tried to hide it. “You don’t have to,” she imagined he tried to sound nonchalant, but she could hear the nervousness creeping in.

“Peeta–”

“No, seriously, I know what you just said, but it doesn’t have to be more than really sleeping. I promise,” he bit his lip and looked at her imploringly. Now, looking directly at him, she could understand what Finnick said about Peeta’s puppy eyes. They were a blue so rich and intense she felt them burning through her organism, and she had the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss him, all her insecurities about their relationship be damned.

Instead she compromised with an “okay,” and lay next to him. She was still only in her panties, and Peeta in his jeans.

Walking to the closet, he pulled out a pair of pants and two shirts. He handed one to her and went to change in the bathroom while she put the shirt over her own head.  When he came out of the bath, he settled on the bed within a respectable distance from her. The both of them seemed to have a difficult time falling asleep, too aware of the other’s presence. Katniss thought she gave in first. Her breaths evened out before Peeta’s, and she was asleep.

All that had happened the night before.

Right that moment, she was transported back to taking breakfast with Peeta because her foot bumped his accidently under the table. He stared at her, nervous look in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure, just thinking,”

“You do a lot of that,” he accused, but not unkindly. She saw his lips curl upwards around his fork. She snorted.

“Well, one of us has to,” she bickered back good naturedly, giving him a small smirk to let him know she was joking. Peeta gave up trying to contain his smile and dazzled her with a full on grin. She nearly felt her panties drop and her breath accelerate. Damn him.

“Is there anything you’d like to do today?” he asked. “I can stay with Rye if you’ve got any plans,”

She scowled. “Peeta, you pay me to take care of Rye. You can go to work after breakfast and I’ll wait for Rye. We’ll figure out a way to distract ourselves in here and I’ll cook anything for lunch, and in the afternoon I can take him to the mall to see Santa or something,”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s my job. It’s in my contract. I don’t want whatever happened last night between us to jeopardize my job.” she sighed. “This is what I was afraid of,”

“No, you’re right,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Thanks for being so considerate though,” she looked down and felt her cheeks burning up. “You’re really sweet,”

Peeta gave her a genuine smile and they continued eating breakfast in silence. Between the two of them they picked up the table, and later had a small discussion about who would wash the dishes.

“You already cooked! Let me do the dishes,” Katniss insisted.

“I’m telling you I don’t mind. Stop being stubborn,” Peeta argued back until they got to a compromise. “You wash, I’ll dry.” Katniss figured it was the best answer she’d get.

He stood dutifully by her side while she soaped and rinsed the dishes, drying every plate, glass and silverware piece she threw his way. Once she was finishing up with the last plate her fingers were wrinkled like raisins, which made the hose slip from her grip.

The water pressure made the hose fly, effectively splashing the front of her –Peeta’s– robe, who cackled at her soaking garments. She jumped and hissed at the cold temperature against her abdomen.

“Told ya you should have let me take the washing station,” Peeta joked knowingly after composing himself a little, still giving out a few chuckles.

“Oh really?” she didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but before her mind could go back, her hands were grasping the still running hose in the sink and pointing it directly at Peeta, soaking his front.

“Fuck!” he cursed and tried to block the stream of water attacking him. She quickly shut the water, thinking she might have gone too far once she caught a glimpse of Peeta’s clothes. His pants were sticking to his impressively toned legs and his sweater was dripping wet. He threw her a look.

“Shit, Peeta–”

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” he whispered darkly. In an instant, his hands held the hose and he pointed it threateningly at her body. He grinned.

“You wouldn’t,” Katniss held a hand up in a pacing gesture.

“Oh, no, I certainly would,” and with those words he opened the faucet at a softer pressure, and let the water hit her. She screeched and cursed.

The sink still held water and bubbles from the soap, so she threw her hands in and splashed him with the bubbles. From the surprise he let go of the hose and it fell against the counter head-down, wetting the floor. Neither of them seemed to care, instead Peeta copied her own technique and splashed her with the bubbles. The water was still running at their feet, and she couldn’t imagine how much the upcoming water bill would be.

Eventually, the water from the sink ran out, and they were soaking wet from head to toe. Peeta had the insight to shut the faucet, but the kitchen was already flooding. Peeta had a hat made out of bubbles, and she could feel her own chest and neck slippery. They were laughing hard; Peeta sat on the floor to recover his breath and groaned when his ass got completely soaked. Katniss laughed even harder.

“What a mess,” she mumbled after their laughter had died down.

“We’ll spend the rest of the day cleaning this up,” Peeta whined maturely. She eyed him, “You’re not thinking I’ll let you clean this up by yourself, are you?”

“Then we should be getting started,” she gave him a hand to help him up, but Peeta pulled too hard on her hand and she slipped on the wet floor. He braced her fall by grabbing her around the waist, and she fell half across his lap. “Shit,”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure,”

Peeta looked down, checking her over but his eyes widened by her chest. “You, uh, the soap…”

She looked down and withheld a gasp. The robe had loosened around her chest, and the white shirt was completely see-through due to their water war. Her nipples were perked and pointy thanks to the cold. Peeta gulped. And she was still on his lap.

“I should go get changed,”

“Yeah, you should,” neither moved though. Peeta started fingering some loose strand of hair that fell over her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. She didn’t know what was it about his eyes, but his stare always burned right through her body, from head to toe. She was the one who gave in first and joined their lips together.

Peeta’s arms instinctively wrapped around her waist and pressed her against his chest tightly. She settled her legs on either side of him to be more comfortable while he thrust his tongue in her mouth. She welcomed him openly, sucking greedily. He moaned low in his throat. One arm was around her waist and the other on the nape of her neck to keep her close, while her own fingers played with his damp golden locks. There was a lot of saliva and teeth and certainly lots of tongue, and she loved it. After sucking on his tongue, he started nipping lightly her bottom lip; it was her time to groan.

Before she realized it, his erection was between her legs, straining against the fabric that separated their cores. Very lightly, experimentally, he thrust his hips against hers. Grinding together, lips attached, it was one of the most erotic moments of her life. The angel on her shoulder screamed hypocrite! You were the one who told him to wait, while the devil on the other side whispered tauntingly you have been patient. The both of you. You deserve this.

She didn’t know which side to hear, but let their hips continue their own sensual dancing while their lips kept attacking the other’s. She was sure their lips were bruised and swollen; hers were already starting to feel tender, but she didn’t want to stop, and judging the way Peeta kept kissing her, he didn’t want to stop either. It could have been minutes or hours since their lips had been brought together, although she didn’t know nor cared.

The doorbell rang. Their own personal cockblocker.

Peeta did the same as the night before: nothing. He let whoever was on the other side of the door waiting. “Fuck them,”

“It’s not them I want to fuck,” she moaned around his lips as he kissed her even harder at her words.

When the doorbell rang again, she tried to convince herself that whoever was on the other side of the door would leave. Except…

“Papa!” the sound came muffled through the door. Rye.

They separated like guilty children in a beat. She had forgotten Finnick would be dropping Rye off, and apparently so had Peeta. “Shit.”

“We can’t leave them out there,” if the inside of the house was cold, the outside was 10 times worse. She looked down between them where Peeta’s erection was still straining against his pants. She pulled herself together and tied the sash up to nearly her neck. “I’ll go,” before she got up he gave her one last kiss, a whisper of his lips against hers.

“This seems familiar,” Peeta whispered against her lips, looking down at his dick. He had to have blue balls by now. She snorted and pulled away.

At the door, she welcomed Finnick and Rye into the foyer, as the low temperature prickled her skin fiercely. Rye moved to throw his arms around her, but she kept him at arms’ length until he noticed her wet get up. Both Finn and Rye gave her a confused look as to why she was so wet everywhere, but Finnick paired it with a salacious grin. She glared and screamed with her eyes for him not to say a word.

“Katniss, what happened?” Rye asked.

“Um, I had a little accident with the hose in the sink,”

“Are you sure that was the only hose you were handling?” Finn laughed. Rye looked confused. Katniss was sure she looked murderous.

“Rye, there’s a huge mess in the kitchen and I have to clean it up, so why don’t you go play with some toys while we get everything together,”

Right that moment, Peeta walked out of the kitchen, also dripping wet. He must have trapped his erection with the waistband of his briefs to hide it, because it didn’t look as pointy as it did just a second ago. Rye jumped into his arms, getting the front of his shirt wet, and Peeta winced. Katniss pretended she didn’t notice, but Finn certainly did. Cue, the devil grin.

“Dad, why are you wet too? Did you two went swimming without me? It’s too cold for swimming. Why did you go swimming?” Rye complained.

“No, of course we wouldn’t do that! We just had a little problem with the hose in the sink,”

“Man, you don’t even know how to handle your own hose?” Finnick laughed again and it was Peeta’s turn to glare. More softly, Peeta convinced Rye to go play in the living room for a while, letting them deal with the mess in the kitchen. The boy ran off to play but not before hugging Finn and shouting out a “Thanks uncle Finnick!”

“Any time rugrat!” he waited until Rye was out of earshot before directing his attention to them. Quietly, he whispered, “Now, I’m sure me and Annie will be babysitting more often based on your disheveled looks and swollen lips. Peet, I think you still have some saliva right here,” Finnick pointed at his own chin and laughed even harder when Peeta wiped off some nonexistent saliva. Katniss scowled.

“Has anyone told you that you’re the best cockblocker there is? Besides being a real pain in the ass,” Peeta grumbled.

“Yes, I do have heard that before,” Finn confirmed.

“Thanks for taking care of Rye and dropping him off, and say thanks to Annie as well. You may leave now,”

“Okay, okay, I know when I’m not wanted.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Try to keep it clean in front of Rye would you?” he laughed, but neither of them found the joke funny.

“Yeah, yeah, asshole, thanks.” She flipped him off and paddled into the kitchen, trying not to slip.

“Bye Kitty!” she heard Finnick and Peeta talking in rapid succession in the living room, not really being able to make out what they were saying. Instead, she got to work and started sweeping water into the drain, trying as much as possible to keep it from running into the foyer; although she imagined with her and Peeta walking soaking wet to greet Rye and Finnick, the entrance mustn’t have been too dry either.

Peeta finished his conversation with Finnick not too long after and did the same as her. Once the floor was dry enough, they moped it and let it dry on its own. Thankfully, only some water had splashed the countertops, nothing that couldn’t be solved with a passing of a dry cloth.

“Is it going to be this awkward every time we make out?” Peeta questioned in between the thick silence. They heard Rye quietly talking to himself, playing with his action figures, and Peeta kept his voice down so Rye wouldn’t hear them.

“I hope not,” she bit her lip, also speaking in a low tone. “How’s your erection doing?”

“Nearly nonexistent now, thanks for asking.” He chuckled. More seriously he added, “did it feel natural to you? Being with me like that, I mean. Because I swear nothing has felt as easy to me,”

“You’re saying I’m easy?” she cocked a hand on her hip.

“What? No! I- fuck, I,” he babbled. “You know that’s not what I mean. You’re very stubborn, no doubt, and certainly not, um,” he gulped. “easy, anything but, in fact, although in the best way possible! Ah foutre, –what I meant is that for me it feels so natural being with you. Not only, uh, making out. Just doing mundane things like the dishes or eating,” He gestured around them, “or moping the floor. It feels right,” Peeta rambled on. She thought it was cute.

She blushed. “The problem has never been that it doesn’t feel right,” because it did feel right. So much. “I just worry about how it might affect our professional agreement.”

“You kissed me just a few minutes ago,” Peeta shrugged. “Not that I’m complaining.”

She huffed. “I know. It was a moment of weakness. I know that makes me a complete hypocrite because less than twelve hours ago I was just saying how we should give this time and here I am kissing you, but…”

“I know,” he took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I promise I’m not trying to pressure you. I’ll be patient, I promise. I’ll wait as long as I have to,”

“Why?”

“Because you’re amazing.” He said simply. “I’ve never met anyone like you, and I’m not sure I ever will. You have to take a chance when incredible things like this happen. Really, Katniss, you don’t know the effect you have on people,”

The honesty in his eyes surprised her, and she knew he wasn’t lying. If all he wanted was meaningless sex or a one-night stand, he wouldn’t risk complicating his relationship with his son’s nanny. She didn’t like getting attached, didn’t like losing people she loved, because that’s all she had ever learned to do.  And now she knew that one night of just sex wouldn’t be enough with Peeta, because he clearly wanted more.

“Thank you,” she said, ordering her voice not to demonstrate just how scared and insecure she really felt. He kissed her hand again and then let go, each continuing with their cleaning tasks. Neither the walls nor the roof had been harmed; the floor received all the water damage. With the kitchen looking spotless, they waddled like penguins to their respective rooms to take a warm shower and get dressed. Peeta took Rye with him, insisting he needed help shampooing his hair.

Inside the warm shower, all she wanted to do was stay under the hot stream cascading over her for the rest of her life so she could be alone with the thoughts crawling around her head, but Peeta would be going to work soon and she needed to tend to Rye, so a 5-minute shower would have to do. The water service was cheaper after 10 pm, so maybe once Rye and Peeta were in bed she could opt for her long, relaxing bath.

She toweled her body off, remembering Peeta’s touch running over her skin. His fingers around her nipples, his lips on her neck, her own hands in his hair… she shivered. She knew she desired him, there was no questioning. She just wondered how long she could hold on.

Putting those dirty thoughts away, she dressed comfortably in a sweater and some yoga pants. With a pair of fuzzy socks on her feet, she walked to the living room while braiding her hair. The living room was fine except for a few toys scattered around, the ones Rye had just been playing with, and finally the kitchen had dried completely. Everything seemed to be in order. She heard Rye and Peeta still upstairs, probably getting dressed. She noticed her purse thrown near the couch, surely from her and Peeta’s haste to get upstairs when they got home the night before. Her phone was still inside and she hadn’t checked it since getting to the club.

There wasn’t much in her cell, a few greeting texts from Thom and Gale asking if she was still alive, which made her realize she’d been a pretty shitty friend lately. She vowed to FaceTime them when they got together to see all of them. Additionally, she had a text from Johanna from this morning and, surprisingly, two from Madge dated from early hours of the morning.

Jo: how did it go with your man candy? 4:42 am

She briefly texted Jo to let her know “I have no man candy!”, but it wasn’t even 9 am yet, which meant that it was around three in the morning in Panem. Jo was probably asleep. Then she read Madge’s texts.

Madge: got home okay? 1:17 am

Madge: Cato asked me for your number, said you left unexpectedly. Should I give it to him? 1:59 am

Oh fuck. Cato.

Katniss didn’t consider herself to be a bad person. Sure, she could be rude and not exactly pleasant, and she didn’t smile much, and she wasn’t big on physical affection, and she wasn’t a people person, unlike Peeta. Regardless of all that, she had never really had bad intentions with anyone. But now she knew that what she had done the night before to Cato had been cruel. She had been really shitty. For God’s sake, she had put on her nice underwear thinking about a what if with Cato and had ended up broadcasting it to Peeta instead.

And it wasn’t as if she didn’t like Cato! They had been having a perfectly nice time before Peeta showed up; there had been some sexual tension in there for a while and he was good looking and nice and kind, too. Despite all that, truth was, in her eyes, Cato couldn’t hold a candle to Peeta, but regardless he didn’t deserve how she had discarded him the night before, without even much as an explanation or even a farewell. She felt sick with herself.

Katniss: sure, give it to him. Thanks 8:44 am

She didn’t wait for Madge’s answer because two sets of footsteps pounded down the stairs. On the couch, Rye burrowed into her side with his Nintendo DS in his hands and she pressed a kiss to his golden hair, which was now wet from his shower. He was dressed in some pants and a long sleeved sweater.

He was the only (little) man who wasn’t making her life complicated at the moment.

Her first complication stood in front of them clad in his work uniform: a pair of washed up jeans –that made her want to tear them from his body with her teeth– and a cotton white shirt with the boulangerie’s logo placed over his heart. Symbolic, she thought.

“Well, since everything seems to be under control in here, I should get going to work,” Peeta scratched the back of his head. From him emanated a delicious manly smell of aftershave and perfume. She shivered.

“Pinky promise you won’t be back late!” Rye stood up in a flash from her side and held up his pinky. Peeta took it and wrapped it around his own finger.

“I’ll be back by 5, okay buddy? We can cook dinner together later. I love you.” He opened his arms and Rye wasted no time in jumping into them. She eyed Peeta and their eyes met behind Rye’s head.

5 pm? Their original agreement was that Peeta wouldn’t be back until 8 or 9 pm because he usually stayed behind to deal with the books and such. He saw her confused stare and mouther later at her. She nodded unquestioningly.

After Peeta placed Rye down, he burrowed next to her once again, console in hand. Peeta looked at them warmly. He seemed to sway back and forth, debating on whether holding her would be a good idea. Instead, he settled for pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head when Rye wasn’t looking. Katniss blushed. She could already feel things changing between them, and she didn’t exactly hate it, but she was definitely afraid. She had always been a coward when it came to feelings.

Rye kept himself entertained for a while with his video game, meanwhile she watched him play Mario Bros and laughed every time he jumped over a turtle and ended up being killed by its shell. Mario did its job for almost an hour, but eventually Rye got bored and threw the console aside.

“Alright, tyke. What do you want to do?”

“Can we make some cookies?”

Katniss sighed. She was completely useless when it came to baking. And she hated wasting perfectly good ingredients when she knew the results would come out pathetic. “Rye…”

“Pleeeeease?” the boy had inherited his father’s charm, no doubt. When he looked at her with those round, blue eyes, Katniss knew she was a sucker for Mellark men.

Unsurprisingly, Rye was the one who led her through the whole process of baking, as he had been baking with Peeta since he could walk. They settled for sugar cookies since it was the recipe Rye knew best. He was on mixing duty, while her job was looking for the ingredients he couldn’t reach on his own and handling the oven and the three trays, which held  half a dozen cookies each.

“It’s good,” Rye said around the wooden spoon he was licking.

“Yeah,” she said around her own spoon. He was sitting on the counter in front of her while she stood concentrated on eating the cookie dough from her spoon. They were waiting for the oven to beep.

Katniss eyed the empty bowl. “Don’t tell your father we ate all that was left of the dough,”

Rye held up his right hand. “You have my word, mademoiselle,” she smiled. Ever so charming; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “Can we take Santa some cookies later? We can go see him at the mall,”

“I don’t see why not. We can go after your nap. That way you can tell him what you want for Christmas,” she knew Peeta was a little nervous because it was already mid-December and Rye had yet to conclude what he wished for Christmas. Peeta had already bought some gifts, but he wasn’t sure it was exactly what Rye wanted. The boy had had a rough year, with his mother leaving and all, so Peeta wanted to make Christmas extra special.

“You think Santa will give me what I want?”

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t he? You are a very good boy. As long as you don’t ask for a brand new car or a pony or a spaceship, I think we’re fine,” she tickled his sides until he laughed. Katniss was suddenly very afraid that he would ask for something heartbreaking, like wishing to spend the holidays with his mother. She wasn’t sure how Peeta could explain that.

“Sorry son, no can do. Your mother is a heartless woman and she doesn’t want anything to do with you. Better luck next year, though. Here, have this Iron Man mask instead,”  

Yeah, that would go well.

She washed the dirty dishes and Rye dried, dutifully by her side until the oven beeped. She set the cookies out on the counter to cold in a bowl and Rye stood next to it, waiting every second until he could grab one. When they no longer oozed out steam, she gave him the go ahead and he wasted no time in biting into the cookie.

He nodded approvingly and she tried not to laugh at the serious look on his face. “Daddy will like them,”

She bit one cookie. She had to agree; by being done by a 4-year-old and a useless-in-the-kitchen 21-year-old, they were not bad at all, especially considering it was their first attempt at baking together all on their own devices. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside and sugary everywhere.

With all the cookie baking and cleaning, it was already past 11 in the morning, almost noon, which meant she had to get started on lunch, even if neither of them were hungry thanks to all the cookie dough-eating, they would get hungry eventually. Best to get it over with.

Rye hated lunch duty, so he sat quietly on the kitchen table to draw while she made something quick for the two of them, some creamy chicken and herbs to go with pasta. While she prepped the food, she debated with herself whether they should take Peeta some lunch too. It wasn’t something she usually did, delivering him homemade food to the bakery, but that day she felt like she wanted to. Doubtful, she called him.

He didn’t waste too much time on answering. “Hello,”

“Hi,”

“Hey, how are you two doing?”

“Just fine,” she bit her lip and paced around the kitchen. “I’m making some lunch for later. I was just, uh, wondering what you’re eating.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Haven’t really given it a thought. Things have been a little hectic since I got here earlier, so I haven’t really thought about lunch,” she could almost hear him scratching the back of his neck.

“Let me guess, the boulangerie was falling apart without you,”

He chuckled. “No, I ah, can’t really give myself that much credit. I have a good right hand in here.” She was pretty sure he meant his Dad, or even Thresh, until she heard a girlish giggle in the back.

What the fuck?

Could it be possible he was flirting with Delly while she was right on the other side of the line? When he had her naked underneath him the night before and soaking wet on his lap in the kitchen floor just that morning?

She wanted to smack herself. She had never been a jealous girl. Like, never. And she wasn’t about to start now.

She had to remember Peeta was a friendly person, sometimes too friendly, so much that the lines between friendliness and coquetry could blur a little bit. She had to stop worrying about Delly and… now the missing condoms. Fuck, no, she wasn’t thinking about that at all now. Nope.

“Katniss, are you there?” his melodic voice resonated through her ears. It was pathetic, really, how weak in the knees it made her.

“Mhmm, yeah, no. Sorry, I just zoned out,”

“Oh, okay. Well, about lunch-”

“Yeah, do you mind if I call you later? I just remembered I left the water running,” she made up.

“Ah, sure, no probl-” she hung up the phone. Instantly, she set a larger pot on high fire and filled it with water to cook the pasta.

“Rye, get your shoes.” She called into the living room. “We’re gonna pay your dad a visit,” she didn’t care about asking first; she was going to take him lunch. She had to be spontaneous every once in a while, right?

While waiting for the water to boil, she heard her phone go ding. She imagined it was Peeta, but she didn’t think it would be Cato.

Unknown: hey, morning. It’s Cato 11:57 am

“Fuck,” she cursed out loud. Rye raised his head. “Don’t repeat that.”

She saved Cato’s number and texted him back.

Katniss: hi. 11:59 am

Wow, very good Katniss. Very articulate.

Cato: so… 12:00 pm

Katniss: listen, I’m really sorry about last night. I know I was a complete a-hole and I just left without saying anything, and you deserve so much better, because you’re really nice and I’m not good with words and I’m just really sorry 12:04 pm

Cato: thanks for your apology, although I would really like to talk this out in person. Meet me later for coffee? 12:10 pm

Katniss: can’t. I’m working all day. Babysitter and all 12:11pm

Cato: I don’t mind.  You can bring your kid. We can meet at a McDonalds or smth so they play around in the park 12:13 pm

Would it really be a good idea? Taking Rye behind Peeta’s back to meet with Cato? Well, it wasn’t as if they would be doing something improper. They’ll just talk; she figured that after leaving him behind on Sunday night, the last thing she could do was granting him a face-to-face meeting so he could call her ugly names to her own face.

Katniss: fine. Meet me at 5 at the McDonalds in Cours 12:19 pm

Cato texted back his agreement and that was that, a meeting was set up. She just hoped Peeta wouldn’t get mad for taking Rye with her. She hoped she was doing the right thing. Maybe she should ask him first. Yes, that’s what a responsible adult taking care of someone else’s child would do.

The water boiled behind her and she added a pinch of salt. She threw spaghetti in; it was Rye’s favorite. She nearly burned her hand with the hot bubbles, lost in her own swirling thoughts. Maybe Peeta was right; maybe she did think too much.

Rye was still drawing quietly on the table, humming Mickey Mouse Clubhouse’s themed song. She smiled and inched closer, sitting next to him. He didn’t even look up as she took a sheet of paper and some crayons he wasn’t using and started drawing.

She didn’t even know what she wanted to draw, instead letting her fingers move on their own. In the end she got a meadow with green tall grass and bright blue skies; not good by any standards, unlike Peeta’s own portraits, but she rejoiced in the fact that it’d been a while since she had allowed herself to do such mundane things like drawing.

Her sister enjoyed to do it as well. After she died, Katniss could barely see colored pencils, for it brought her a wave of too dark feelings. Much less draw.

To finish the picture, she drew a small girl with sun-colored tresses weaved into two braids, wearing a long skirt with a wrongly tucked in shirt. She hoped she was imagining her eyes burning.

“Ohh,” Rye brought her back. “It’s good. Who’s that?” he pointed to Prim.

“Someone I used to know.” She answered nonchalantly. She hastily folded the paper and tucked it inside a drawer in the kitchen. She’d retrieve it later when Rye didn’t notice so he wouldn’t ask any more questions. As much as she cared for him, there were some parts of her life she wasn’t ready to share with the kid, much less Peeta.

The pasta was already done by then. She strained it and mixed it with the chicken sauce she’d made. She divided it into three take-out containers and packed each with a set of silverware inside a lunchbox.

Rye already had his shoes on. She left him quietly drawing, making sure everything in the kitchen was turned off, and went to change into some jeans, two t-shirts, a sweater and a jacket, and a pair of boots to handle off the cold. Next she bundled Rye up like a penguin and with one hand in his, and the other holding their food, they walked to the car Peeta had lend her.

It wasn’t a long ride to the boulangerie. Rye chattered the whole way; it was clear he was excited by the prospect of visiting his father at work. Katniss made a mental note to do it more often, seeing as it made the little boy so happy.

When they pulled up in front of the familiar dark-wooded establishment, she felt a sense of comfort. Behind the cakes’ display she could see a line inside. She unbuckled Rye and hand in hand they walked inside.

The warmth greeted her like a hug. As if the ovens from the back weren’t enough, the chimney was also lit. It was all so homey and comfortable.

She took a look at the line, which consisted only on about five or six people. Lunch rush must have already passed. Delly was handling the cashier and threw her and Rye a grin when she spotted them, going back to the client in front of her. Rye waved and Katniss tried not to grimace too much.

Thresh was serving customers. He greeted the pair by also grinning and throwing a hand towards the back, where she assumed Peeta was. Rye went ahead of her towards the back, fist-bumping with Thresh as he passed by. Katniss sent his way a small smile and followed Rye. She could already hear him shouting for his father.

When she walked inside the kitchen, Peeta was kneeled in front of Rye, his arms enveloping him in a hug. His eyes focused on her behind his son’s head and she could swear his eyes shone a tad brighter. Maybe it was just her imagination, although she hoped not.

“We brought you lunch,” Katniss raised the lunchbox she was carrying.

Peeta led them to his office and they sat on the small table he kept there to eat. Rye sat in between them and dug into his lunch as soon as Katniss set it in front of him. Peeta waited for her to sit until he started eating alongside her. She had to admit that for being nearly useless in the kitchen, pasta was good. Rye and Peeta seemed to agree, judging by how fast they ate. She sighed. Men.

“To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” Peeta asked, wiping around his mouth with a napkin.

She shrugged, not looking up from her plate. “You didn’t have lunch, and I made extra pasta, so I thought why not?”

“Well, I’m so glad you did. It was the best lunch I’ve had in a while,” Katniss raised an eyebrow and mouthed bullshit. Peeta snorted. “No really, thank you so much.”

“De rien,” Rye chirped in from between them, fumbling with the last noodles from his plate. Katniss smiled and helped him get a hold and get them inside his mouth. “We made sugar cookies!” he said happily after swallowing. Katniss wiped around his mouth and he giggled.

“You did?” Peeta raised a brow. Rye nodded. “Well, I can’t wait to try them when I get home later.”

“Rye did a very good job,” Katniss said proudly. “I just handed him the ingredients and handled the oven.” Rye grinned and shrugged modestly.

“I am pretty cool.” She and Peeta laughed loudly.

They remained talking a while longer until Katniss realized they were keeping him from work. “Rye, I think it’s time we go. Your dad needs to work, and you should take your nap.”

“I’m not tired,” he complained, but as he said it he rubbed his eyes and let loose a yawn. Katniss bit her lip.

“Katniss is right little man. I really enjoyed you coming to visit but now I really need to work so I can get out early and we can make dinner together.” She knew Peeta had him there.

“Fine,” Rye compromised and the three stood up.

“Go say hi to Grandpa. I think he just got back from running errands,” the boy ran out. She’d forgotten about Peeta’s dad. She didn’t notice she was looking after Rye until Peeta called her name. Together they picked the plates and silverware and stuffed them inside the lunchbox.

“He’ll be fine. My dad’s just through the door.” She nodded. “I, uh, really enjoyed lunch. It was very nice of you.”

She smiled. “It was no problem. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she didn’t let on she convinced herself to do it after a jealousy-induced confrontation with her mind.

The air grew thick with an indescribable feeling. She tried not to groan at how much she wanted to throw herself at him. She noticed Peeta raise his hand to tuck in a loose strand of hair behind her ear, but he didn’t remove it; instead he rested his palm against her cheek and she found herself leaning against it.

Boldly, she closed the space between them and pressed their lips together. The kiss wasn’t like the others they’d shared; this was slow and tender, chaste at best. Soft pressing of lips together, sighs against the other’s mouth. She couldn’t decide if she liked these or the hard and passionate kisses better. She figured she loved kissing Peeta in whichever way it was.

Their lips didn’t seem to tire, wanting to remain attached, but their lungs screamed for air. Reluctantly, she was the first to break apart and nearly melted at the look full of adoration he gave her.

She was pretty sure she could die right there, and then Peeta started delivering soft, tender kisses all over her face; eyelids, forehead, nose, temples, cheeks, chin. She sighed in contentment and felt the butterflies in her stomach doing furious flutters.

“You’re too much,” he whispered, voice awed. “I know you’re scared, but just know that I’ll take you in any way I can have you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Even if I decide that you and I being romantically involved is not a possibility?” she wasn’t sure if she was teasing or not.

“I would certainly hate to say goodbye to kissing your lips, being as amazing as they are. And your soft cheeks,” his thumbs rubbed her cheekbones slowly. “and your cute button nose.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and then to her forehead. “and your forehead. But your wish is my command, mademoiselle. I just want to make you happy,”

“You do,” she whispered back. “so much.” Her eyes shut and their foreheads rested together.

And she meant it. She hadn’t realized just how much of a part Peeta had played in her happiness ever since she had gotten to France. He always took care of her, asking if she was okay or if she needed anything; he always made her laugh and he made her feel part of his family. He was her comfort. She had been so afraid of letting him in that she hadn’t realized her walls were already down.

Katniss stroked his face tenderly. “Don’t get back too late tonight,” it was an unspoken promise they both understood. He nodded against her skin and kissed her forehead one last time before they walked out of the office together.

Peeta’s father greeted her with a grin and a hug, as always. Rye was in one of his arms and he wrapped the other around Katniss. Jean Mellark was the older version of Peeta, kindness and all.

“Qu'est-ce que vous ferez cette soirée ?” Jean asked her. Sometimes she had to think before responding; he didn’t speak English, and Katniss’s level of French could have probably been considered A2 at best.

Shit. She’d forgotten to ask Peeta about her evening plans with Rye and Cato.

“Um, well,” she looked at Peeta. “I was thinking I could take Rye to McDonalds or something so he can play in the park. A friend of mine asked me to meet him and he suggested McDonalds so I can take Rye with me,”

“Oh,” he frowned a little, obviously not missing the him. “That’s fine. Uh, what time?”

“Around 5,”

“Oh,” he repeated. “Well, I was planning on getting home around that time, but I can stay a little later getting some work done until you both get home.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” he gave a tight-lipped smile that didn’t seem very real to her. “Just do what you need to do.”

“Thanks,” then she turned back to Jean and told him she’d be taking Rye to McDonalds later, to which the boy squeaked and grinned.

She and Rye got going, and after waving goodbye to Jean and the rest of the staff, they walked to the car with Peeta behind them. He got his son buckled in and kissed his cheek, then he stepped next to her window and she rolled it down. He still looked a little troubled.

His hand rested on the door, and she took it and gave what she hoped was a tight, comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Trust me,” she smiled.

His eyes lost the worry a little, instead being replaced by warmth. “You know I trust you. I just, shit…” he didn’t elaborate any further.

“See you tonight. I promise,” she threw him a longing glaze and he backed away from the car so she could drive away. She didn’t miss the light smile grazing his lips.

Rye fell asleep five minutes down the road. She snorted; kids hated their schedules but they didn’t realize just how dependent they were of it. Katniss herself was like that too. Once upon a time she had had to follow a schedule religiously, otherwise she would have lost her mind completely.

Instead of wallowing in her thoughts, she continued the ride in silence and enjoyed the view. France really did have much to offer, and she was lucky she got to see it.

Even if she was freezing her ass off.

When they got home, she quickly unbuckled Rye and tucked him into bed. She left him in his clothes as not to wake him, but she removed his jacket and shoes. She pressed a soft kiss to his blonde curls and walked out. He’d most likely be up around 4, so she had some time to kill.

Trying to be useful, she set up the washing machine to do some laundry. She went with the light-colored clothes, blushing when she noticed a pair of Peeta’s white boxer briefs. She totally didn’t imagine them snug tight around his muscular thighs and crotch –nope, not at all.

While the machine got the job done, she swept and moped around the house and dusted off some shelves. She picked some of Rye’s toys that were scattered around and tidied up the living room. The house was mainly clean, though, so she didn’t have much more to do. She even had time to try and be not such a shitty friend and texted her friends in Panem, asking them how everything was going. Their answers were pretty much the same; they were fine albeit a little mad at her for becoming too French and not having time for her old buddies. She knew they were mostly teasing, but she could also detect a real hurt behind the words.

I know I’ve been shitty, she texted back on the group chat. I promise to not disappear on you guys as often.

She even had a text from Madge from earlier.

Madge: sure, no problem. I just wasn’t sure, considering what arose between you two yesterday 2: 31 pm

Katniss: everything was my fault. We texted and I apologized, but he wants to meet later to ‘talk things out face to face’. He was surprisingly nice after the whole thing 3:46 pm

She really wasn’t sure why she was telling Madge about Cato. They weren’t besties or anything, but she supposed it was because Madge had been the one to encourage her in the first place to go out with him, and girl-friends shared that kind of stuff: the following day after hanging out with a guy. Even if she had left the club with a different guy than the one she’d gone in with.

She was surprised when the phone beeped back quickly.

Madge: oh well that’s cool I guess. I told you he’s a nice guy. He probably isn’t too mad if he wants to see you 3:48 pm

Katniss: it’s either that or he wants to kick me in the face 3:49 pm

Madge: lol I don’t think so. Don’t fret, I’m sure he’ll understand. Hope everything works out darling! 3:51 pm

She quickly texted back thanks and turned away from her phone. She decided she deserved some bad TV. She flipped through the channels until she got to Disney and noticed Hercules was just beginning; it was one of her favorites, so she couldn’t really complain.

Hercules had just given up his powers to Hades in order to save Meg, only to realize she’d been working for the god all along, when soft feet paddled down the stairs and a small body sat next to her on her lap. Rye had dragged his Toy Story blanket down and had it over his head like a hood. She smiled. They sat quietly until the movie ended.

When the credits rolled, Rye looked up at her. “Can we get ice cream at McDonalds?” she wondered how he could possibly want ice cream when the temperatures outside dropped lower with every passing day, but who was she to judge.

“Sure,” she shrugged. “You can go look for you shoes…” Rye ran off before she could finish. “…if you want.”

It was already a quarter to 5 when they left the house. The McDonalds where she had agreed to meet Cato was only a 10-minute walk, so she and Rye decided to go by foot. Even if the cold was troublesome, the walk was quick and the scenery was worth it.

The establishment was fairly empty; not many parents brought their kids to McDonalds on a Monday afternoon.

She noticed a single guy hunched over a table, sticking out like a sore thumb. Cato. He glanced up as if sensing her presence and gave her a small smile. She pulled Rye forward and Cato stood up.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she said back.

“Hello,” Rye said in between. Cato looked down and smiled.

“Hey there, I’m Cato. What’s your name?” Rye suddenly shied away behind her legs.

“It’s alright,” she encouraged. “you can tell him your name.”

“I’m Rye” he mumbled. Cato held out his hand and they shook.

“Nice to meet you little guy. Katniss mentioned you like superheroes. I must say The Hulk is my personal favorite. He’s the coolest,” his eyes shone.

Rye’s eyes widened. “No way! Batman’s cooler!” they could have gotten into a dispute right there, but Katniss inched Rye forward.

“Why don’t you go play for a while? I’ll call you later when I get your ice cream,” Rye looked unsure, protective. He held her hand tighter, as if he wasn’t sure Cato was safe enough to leave his babysitter alone with him. “It’s fine, Rye. I promise,” she kissed his nose and he skipped away, still a little unsure. They sat on a table that had full display of the playground.

“So, I uh, don’t know where to begin.” She said awkwardly.

“I think you can start by getting me a sundae.” Cato started off, not unkindly. “I think I deserve it. And then we can talk about what the heck happened last night,”

She nodded and stood up.

Peeta was itching to get home.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for him; he always wanted to go back to his son as soon as he could. And since Katniss started working with them, even more so.

Today he just wanted to go and cook dinner with them and lay and watch a movie. He’d even settle for watching The Incredibles (1 and 2) for the hundredth time. Even more so, he wanted to go and wrap Katniss in a blanket and keep her away from the world; or, more specifically, from the guy she was meeting with.

Peeta didn’t want to ask, but he assumed she was meeting with the same guy she was dancing with at the club the night before when he’d gotten there, her friend from French class. Considering on how she didn’t elaborate, he presumed he was right about her meeting companion. He might had been a little jealous. Just a bit.

Before he met her, Annie had mentioned Katniss being cute, and she sure looked so during the couple Skype sessions they had had before getting to France, but he wasn’t prepared for the raven-haired beauty that they picked up from the airport. His heart went into overdrive from day one.

He was convinced love at first sight was a real thing the day he met his son. Those thoughts were reinforced as soon as he met Katniss. He was about ready to crawl to his knees and declare his undying love. He thought that might freak her out slightly, so he refrained.

If anything, he’d noticed how quickly his feelings towards Katniss intensified with the passing of every day. Just watching her smile and be with Rye was enough for his heart to burst. And now he knew she wanted him.

He understood her hesitation, and he cursed himself for perhaps not giving much thought to the matter as she did. But the truth was he did think it through, many times. Read and reread her contract on several occasions, imagined every possible scenario. Things could blow under their noses if it didn’t work out; and, usually, you shouldn’t start off a new relationship by thinking how it might fail.

He figured it was worth a try. He’d never felt this way about anyone, not even his ex-wife, which was understandable considering their marriage had been a shotgun wedding. But now that he knew Katniss was also interested in him, even more so he wanted to give it a shot. But he truly meant what he’d said earlier; all he wanted was to make her happy. Even if that included him in a romantic aspect of her life or not.

“We should get going, son,” his father appeared and Peeta raised his head from the dough he was kneading. “Thresh will close.”

He threw a glance at the clock hanging from the wall. It read 5:21 pm, which meant that Katniss and Rye would have only just gotten to their destination less than half hour ago. He didn’t feel like going to an empty house, so he figured he’ll work at least another half hour. He told his father so and the man nodded knowingly while also throwing him a warning glance.

“Don’t stay here for too long,” his Dad ordered softly in French. “remember what you have waiting for you at home,”

Peeta nodded, although he knew perfectly what he had waiting for him. “I know, dad. Don’t worry. Half hour and I’m gone, promise.”

“So, ah, I’ve been meaning to tell you, it’s been a long time since you and Rye have visited your mom and I at the house. She’s missing the boy. She suggested that you three join us for dinner on Sunday,” Dad said and Peeta balked. The three of them?

His father read his expression. “I know, but she asked for Katniss to be included. It’s been over two months and your mother still hasn’t met the girl.”

Peeta wanted to argue, asking whose fault that was, but he didn’t want to take it out on his Dad. The poor man was just the messenger. “I, uh, I don’t know if Katniss has any plans on her own or with Rye. I’ll have to ask her and I’ll let you know.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Sure thing, son. See you tomorrow,” He patted Peeta’s back and walked out. Peeta held back a sigh. If his mother wanted to meet Katniss, that couldn’t be good. She’d only been with them for two months. He didn’t want his mother to scare her away. Especially not when things between them were going… good? He wasn’t exactly sure how to call it. But now he knew that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, so he figured that was progress. They were heading somewhere.

He worked in silence for another 20 minutes or so, putting away the remaining loaves of bread and cleaning the kitchen and ovens, until he figured he’d probably had enough. He gathered his stuff and waved goodbye to Thresh, who was on closing duty, on his way out.

The drive home was quick; he was anxious to get to Rye and Katniss. Supposing they were already home…

He was disappointed, albeit not surprised, when he noticed Katniss’s car wasn’t in the garage. They weren’t back from McDonalds yet. He was already home, so he figured he might as well get started on making the dough for some homemade pizza while Katniss and Rye arrived.

The house was cold. The chimney wasn’t on so he went and got a fire going to warm up. He put an apron over his work clothes and started gathering the ingredients for the dough. Making pizza was one of Rye’s favorite things to bake, so he knew the recipe by heart. He was sad he couldn’t remember the last time he had made homemade pizza with his son. But he was determined that he’d change that.

Around a quarter past 7 he just had put the dough to chill when he heard a car entering the garage; it took no time at all until Katniss and Rye were walking through the front door, shedding their coats and boots. Rye came running through the kitchen door and threw himself at him. Peeta’s heart swelled.

“Dad! You’re home,” he pressed a kiss to his head and hugged him tighter. Katniss watched fondly from the doorway; she didn’t want to interrupt the moment.

“Well I did say I’d come back early so we can make dinner together. I was thinking homemade pizza,” he barely got the words out before Rye started cheering.

The boy turned towards Katniss, “You have to try our pizza. It’s the best!” she smiled.

“I don’t doubt it,” she ruffled his hair.

Rye was a little disappointed when he learned that Peeta had already done the dough on his own, but he lit up when he told him he could smear the sauce and cheese and put whatever toppings he wanted on his pizza.

“Why don’t you go change so you don’t get your clothes dirty?” Katniss suggested. “Go on up and I’ll get you something out,” he sprang up the stairs like a banshee. Peeta laughed.

He looked after his son and didn’t look at Katniss until she said, “Hi.” Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. She was adorable. Gorgeous.

“Hi,” since he left for work that morning he’d been debating what gesture would be appropriate to use with her. He was still wondering whether a kiss was too much or not when she made the decision herself and strutted towards him. Her mittens-covered hands went to his cheeks and her lips covered his in a soft kiss that caught his breath.

She seemed to tense a little when he was just standing there like an idiot instead of reciprocating, so he quickly caressed her cheek with one hand while the other went to her back, lips moving against hers gently. He had to remember his son was upstairs to stop himself from exploring her mouth with his tongue.

Their kiss was gentle, paused, as if they had all the time in the world, which they clearly didn’t because small feet would be coming down the stairs in no time.

Katniss pulled away first and looked at him shyly though her lashes, unsure. He smiled to reassure her and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. The few times they’d kissed before, she always tasted differently; at the bar she had tasted like beer and a touch of tequila and lime, during breakfast it’d been mushrooms. Now, she tasted like strawberry syrup and peanuts. No matter her flavor, she always tasted delicious.

He had the dirtiest thought; he was sure her other lips would taste just as delicious, and with the twitch his cock gave he snapped himself out of those distracting thoughts. Although that didn’t make him wish any less that he’d get to taste Katniss. Soon, if it was possible. He was trying so badly to be good and respect her wishes, but he was just a man.

She gave him a bashful look. “I gotta go tend Rye,” he nodded and up the stairs she went. He heard Katniss and Rye laughing and giggling all the way from his room. He didn’t mind one bit that they were ganging up on him or that they had their own inside jokes. He loved the relationship they had; he was thrilled they got along so well. He truly couldn’t ask for more.

They came together down the stairs with Rye leading the way. While waiting for the dough to rise, the three of them prepped the area with the toppings they wanted and the pizza sauce (from a can, because really, who had enough time to make it from scratch?) and heard Rye go on about spending the night before at Finnick and Annie’s, who had, apparently, indulged him in watching Ratatouille while eating chocolate ice cream with lots of whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. He wanted to go back already… to which Peeta wasn’t exactly opposed to if that meant one evening alone with Katniss.

When the dough finally rose, he kneaded it with Rye and later got the boy to help him punch it some more for extra softness. Katniss preferred to watch from the sidelines.

They made two big pizzas, and it got them a little longer to finish because Katniss kept eating the mozzarella cheese behind whenever Peeta’s back was turned, which made Rye erupt into giggles every time. They added olives, pepperoni, sausage, corn and mushrooms on one, and for the other Peeta wanted to do an extra cheesy with pineapples, but Rye wouldn’t let him.

“Daddy, pineapples don’t mix with pizza!” he argued.

“They do! Otherwise why is there a type of pizza called Hawaiian? It specifically has pineapple on it. Katniss, back me up on this one.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, no can do. I’m with my buddy on this one: pizza and pineapple just don’t go together.” She and Rye high-fived. They were totally ganging up against him. And he didn’t care one bit.

“Two against one. That means no pineapple pizza!” Peeta sighed deeply, not at all annoyed. Instead they settled for a vegetarian, which he knew Katniss liked just as much as mushroom and sausage pizza.

When they were finally in the oven, Rye insisted on camping next to the oven with the inside light on. He loved watching the cheese melt, something Peeta hadn’t been able to take away from him, even if it did panic him that he was staying so close to the heat. He always made him promise just looking, no touching, a rule Rye dutifully agreed to.

Katniss went to change out of her street clothes and he waited by Rye. He was itching to know how her meeting with the blond man she was with yesterday had gone, but he didn’t want to seem overly pushy. He figured she’d tell him when she deemed it appropriate.

A few minutes later, when the cheese on both pizzas had finally melted and Rye had gotten bored, they went to the living room to play with his action figures. Peeta always got to be Captain America, because Rye said he looked just like him, while Rye was Iron Man. When Peeta had asked his son why he wasn’t Cap, insisting that he looked like him too, Rye had just said that Iron Man was cooler cause he had a nearly indestructible suit.

And he’s super rich too, he’d said.

Who could argue with that logic?

When Katniss walked out of her room comfortably dressed in some pants, a camisole and a sweater with a face freshly washed, he could feel his heart doing somersaults. He was deep in for her. It worried him a bit, but it excited him even more.

Rye paid no attention to Katniss when she sat on the couch above them from where they sat on the floor; he was still shooting imaginary lasers at Thanos or whoever villain it was they were fighting this time. Katniss’s stare met Peeta’s and she threw him a longing glance and a soft smile. He grinned in response and she went back to scrolling through her phone, but Peeta could see her biting her lip just a bit. He willed the oven to cook faster so they could eat and Rye could go to bed soon.

Thankfully, his prayers were answered because the oven beeped not too long after. Rye sprang from the floor and Peeta had to run behind him to stop him from getting close to the oven. Katniss followed with a laugh.

When he got the pizza out Rye and Katniss were already sitting on the table, which had been already set up when he was waiting for the dough to rise. Katniss first served Rye his slice and cut it up for him to prevent any burns from grabbing the hot slice, then she served Peeta a slice and one for herself from the vegetarian pizza. He had to admit the pizzas turned out pretty good. Katniss seemed to think so too, considering how she moaned around her slice, and he squirmed inconspicuously on his chair.

She really had to stop moaning around him when there were other people around, because she didn’t know just how badly that affected him and his lower zone. He felt like a stupid teenager around her, always getting aroused. He was afraid when (if) they did have sex he’d last four seconds after he was inside her.

He hadn’t had sex since that one time after Thresh’s birthday party four months ago. It was completely unexpected, and he was relieved he always kept extra condoms in his wallet, just in case. The sex had been good, they had even done twice and probably would have done it more times if he had had more than two condoms on him, but even kissing Katniss felt more explosive than having sex with the redhead he’d been with. Even with his own ex-wife.

Before Thresh’s birthday it’d been over a year. He felt like a virgin again.

By the time neither of them could eat another slice, they still had the half of the vegetarian pizza left. Katniss wrapped it up in some foil paper and put it away in the fridge while Peeta did the dishes. By the time they were done tidying up the kitchen it was over 10 pm, which meant it was past Rye’s bedtime. Peeta told him so and the boy frowned and pouted.

“I’m not even tired!” he complained and stifled a yawn. Peeta tried not to snort. “and we didn’t even get to see Santa today because we were at McDonalds.” Peeta tensed.

“Katniss, you told me we’d go see Santa.”

“I did say that, didn’t I? Sorry we couldn’t go today, but I’ll take you tomorrow. Promise,” she held out her pinky and Rye looked at it suspiciously before linking it with his own. Katniss smiled and Peeta melted. “but, you have to go to sleep. Otherwise tomorrow won’t come,”

He pursed his lips and climbed up the stairs, yelling goodnight behind him. Peeta started to climb behind him so he could tuck him in. He looked behind him at Katniss, who waited at the foot of the staircase.

“Don’t go to sleep yet?” he pleaded. “I am, uh, going to say goodnight and then I’ll come down again.”

She nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait,”

He threw her a smile and quickly went up the stairs into Rye’s room. He was already under the covers with only his nocturnal light on.

“Good night little guy,” Peeta sat on the edge of the bed. “Sorry I haven’t been able to do this so much lately. I promise I’ll try to tuck you in more often.”

“It’s fine Daddy. I know it’s cause you’re working a lot so you can buy me many action figures.”

Peeta laughed. “Yeah, that’s only one of the reasons. I’d love nothing more than to be all day every day with you, you know that, but as you said, I have to work so we can buy stuff, but I’ll try to take some time off. Just for you and I,”

“And Katniss?”

“Sure, Katniss too.” Peeta coughed. How was it possible his 5 year old could read him so well? Was Peeta really that see-through? “As long as you’re okay with that.”

“I’m more than okay!”

Peeta smiled. “Good. Bonne nuit, fils. Je t’aime,” He kissed his son’s forehead and closed the door behind him, only leaving it slightly ajar.

Katniss wasn’t in the kitchen when he went downstairs. He worried for a second that she’d gone to bed, but his fears eased once he saw her sitting in front of the fire. Pillows were thrown together for her comfort and she had two beers in hand. She’d recreated the scene from a few nights before.

She looked behind her just as he approached and motioned for him to sit next to her. He did, and she handed him a Corona. He took a swig.

“We never did finish the other pack the last time,” Katniss explained and her eyes shone with what he could have sworn was mischief.

“No, no we didn’t.” he laughed.

“So, um, not that I’m complaining or anything but… why did you come home so early today? I thought we had agreed you’d come in after 8,”

“Well, I, uh… I’m trying to cut back some hours. I realized I’ve been missing on many things, you know, working so hard. I want to be here for Rye,” he shrugged. “Plus, I’ve been designating more tasks on Thresh and Delly. Things I usually handed on my own, but I think it’s been long enough. I should give them a confidence vote. They deserve it,”

Katniss nodded. “Yeah, I totally get it. And things will only get more hectic once you inaugurate your new stores-”

“Yeah, I’m no longer doing that.”

“What?” her eyes widened. “Why not?”

“Same reason why I’m cutting hours: I want more time with Rye.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig. “I don’t even know why I thought about opening two more stores when I can barely handle one. I don’t want my bakery to become a chain.

“I guess it was just another of my stupid plans to try to please my mother,” he scoffed. “plans that usually never work, anyway. That woman can’t be proud of me no matter what I do.”

“Peeta! I’m sure that’s not true,”

“She invited the three of us for dinner on Sunday. Come and see for yourself,”

Katniss gulped. “Really?” what little Annie had mentioned about Peeta’s mother to Katniss wasn’t exactly too nice. To say she was worried would be an understatement. Although, it wasn’t as if she was going to be introduced to the woman as Peeta’s girlfriend; so far she was only Rye’s nanny. She wasn’t sure if that gave Mrs. Mellark more ammunition or not.

Peeta nodded and took another swig of the beer. He noticed Katniss had barely touched hers so he slowed down a little on his.

“Well, that’s fine. We’ll go.” Peeta raised an eyebrow. “But forget about your mother. I thought you wanted to expand the boulangerie?”

“I don’t know. Not really, I guess. I think I liked the idea of making my business grow, but I hadn’t realized just how much that would take and what I would be giving up. Truth be told, not even one thousand new businesses and a lot of cash would make up for spending less time with Rye.

“Besides, I’m not exactly sure that I wanted to build an empire, like that Cake Boss guy, you know. This isn’t America. For now, I’m happy with my boulangerie. Maybe down the road, once Rye’s older and he doesn’t need me as much, I’ll go for something bigger, who knows,”

“What about what you had already invested?”

“Already sold it and got the money back and paid the debt I had, that’s another reason why I had been so worked up lately. See? I’m no longer concerned about that, Katniss. Don’t try to change my mind. God knows Finnick has already been doing enough of that on his own,” at her puzzled look he explained, “Finnick was sort of like my business partner for one of the new boulangeries. He lent me the money I needed for the other store. He says I shouldn’t abandon my dream,”

“Oh.” Katniss briefly recalled the many calls Peeta and Finnick did to each other and why more recently Peeta got often annoyed at him. Even that same morning after their water war when they had been talking in hushed tones in the foyer.

“Well, if you’re pleased with what you’re doing, I’ll support you.”

“You will?”

“Absolutely. I totally get what you mean about spending more time with Rye, and I think you’re right.” She bit her lip and he twitched involuntarily. “To be honest, I always imagined the boulangerie would remain something small, you know? Just family and a few employees that are practically family. Keep the tradition and all that. Creating an empire as you said… it’s not quite Peeta. Just my opinion,”

Peeta smiled. He hoped his eyes displayed the gratefulness he felt for her right in that moment. “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me,” he took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. The ambiance shifted and another kind of tension simmered between them.

“You know,” Peeta whispered as they moved closer together, like magnets pulling on metal. “I cut hours not only because I wanted more time with Rye. I mean, that’s true, of course. But it’s not the only reason,”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I want more time with you too,” his confession hung in the air between them until Katniss freed him from his suffering.

“Well, I’m right here. Let’s not waste time,” her arms went around his neck and his breath hitched.

“Katniss… once we start this, I-I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stop,”

“Good, cause I won’t stop you.” Their lips met in a frenzy compulsion. It was as if they couldn’t stand another moment without their lips being joined.

Katniss’s tongue licked his mouth and lips, and his own tongue didn’t fall behind. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to inhale her completely. He was a man dying of thirst, and she was the most delicious glass of water he’d ever tasted. His appetite for her grew agonizingly, and he wanted to devour her right there. He wanted to make her his, to satisfy her, to relish on the feel of her bare skin against his. In that moment right there he knew he would never get tired of that sensation; he would never get enough of her.

Peeta was insatiable, a man possessed. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted her. He never wanted to stop kissing her. Never wanted to remember how it felt not kissing her. Every fiber of his body ached for her while her nimble fingers on one hand clawed at the back of his neck and others on her other hand tugged on his curls vigorously. Her lithe body pressed against his, hips rocking softly together in an ardent need.

She moaned as he pushed her down against the floor, his lips still attached to her juicy flesh as one of his hands kneaded her breast, and the other kept their hips flushed together. His fly strained uncomfortably against his painful erection, and Katniss whined when he started thrusting lightly against her heat. It was stupid, really, how he coaxed out of her the most sensuous feelings Katniss had ever experienced.

Somewhere behind them she heard a bottle toppling over and hitting the floor with a clink. Its contents were probably glugging and spreading through the carpet, but neither of them seemed to pay any attention to it at the moment.

“Peeta, upstairs. Now,” she urged and Peeta wasted no time in picking her up. She tangled her legs around his hips while her lips and tongue started an aggressive attack on Peeta’s neck and jaw, everywhere they could reach.

She’d never been territorial, not one bit, but for some reason she wanted to mark him, to leave her kisses on his neck and her nail marks on his back. His breathing was labored, and she knew that wasn’t thanks to the exertion of carrying her up the stairs.

When they passed Rye’s door they quietened, being careful not to wake the boy.

Once they got to Peeta’s room, however, and the lock had been turned, their moaning took place once again. Peeta set her on the bed and sat back on his heels to take his shirt off. Katniss helped him undoing his belt. Her hands purposely touched the bulge against the zipper and Peeta hissed.

When their jeans were fully discarded, she happily massaged him through the thin fabric of his briefs. She pushed him down on the bed and sat on her haunches. She motioned for him to lift his hips so she could take off his boxers. He understood quickly and she rid him of the piece of clothing, throwing it somewhere behind her. He was fully naked in front of her, and very erect. His tip shone with precome, and her mouth watered.

She went to take her sweater off but he held her hands away, looking up at her with flushed cheeks and pinkish, swollen lips.

“Let me, please,” she nodded lightly and smiled. His hands wasted no time in going to the hem of the fabric, and in one swift motion he threw her sweater and camisole away once he got them off. His dick twitched once he noticed she didn’t have a bra on. Her breasts were perky and her nipples erect, either from the cold or excitement. He hoped it was the latter.

His thumbs rubbed her nipples and she arched her back, biting her lip so she wouldn’t wake up Rye. Her breathing got heavier.

“You don’t have to be quiet,” Peeta whispered. His thumbs were still working wonders on her nipples, but his eyes were directly on hers. “The walls are thick. I don’t want you to be quiet.” She leaned down and gave him a fervent kiss that took both their breaths away.

Getting back from him and up from the bed, she took off the rest of her pants while he watched with a burning gaze that sent shivers through her whole body. Peeta licked his lips, and he got even harder. She moved to the bed and put her hands on his chest to push him back against the pillows.

She started kissing his lips. Sensuous and slow kisses that built the anticipation, and went down to his neck, chest, stomach, until she got to his crotch. She pressed a kiss to his tip and Peeta threw his head back in a moan. She had already seen him fully naked before, but she couldn’t refrain herself from admiring his girth once again. He was thick and long and so hard, and she wanted him inside of her more than she’d ever wanted anything else. She took him fully in her hand and pumped him to get him even harder.

“Shit,” he whispered.

“I thought you said we didn’t have to be quiet,” and she engulfed him in her mouth. Since he was so big, she could only go for his tip while she used her hand to pump the rest of his length. She heard him cussing above her, his hand hovering her hair.

“Katniss, you don’t have to- Fuck! You don’t need to do that if you don’t want- ohh,” he managed.

She admired his chivalry and self-determination. She had half of his dick in her mouth and he still made sure to tell her it wasn’t necessary. “I want to, Peeta.” She licked him up and down and he groaned.

“Some girls don’t like it. Shit,”

“Some girls are stupid,” she answered and put him back inside her mouth. Peeta seemed to be enjoying it too much to say anything else, based on how his hand gripped her hair. If he only knew how much giving him head turned her on as well.

She continued giving him head, changing between sucking on his tip and licking him completely. She thrilled on the sounds that erupted from his mouth. After several minutes he squirmed and his breaths were harsh.

“Fuck! Katniss you need to stop. Please,” she ignored him and only deepthroated him, as much as her gag reflex would allow, and even then she couldn’t wrap her mouth around him completely.

“Shit, no. I’m gonna come.” He tried to push her away from his dick, although in vain, because she only sucked him faster and more furiously until she felt the first spurts of semen hit the back of her throat. It was salty and creamy and certainly arousing.

She didn’t stop sucking him until she’d milked him completely and Peeta’s breathing had slowed down. She sat on his stomach, her own arousal coating his midsection. His hands covered his face while his heartbeats returned to normal, and his skin was flushed an angry red all the way down to his stomach. She gently took his hands away from his face and pressed soft kisses to his palms. She tried not to look too smug.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come so fast. I wanted to last for when we… you know,” he whispered, and she hated to detect a tone of embarrassment in his voice.

She pressed his hands against her breasts and he kneaded them again. She sighed. “I meant you to come,” she said pompously, being unable to hold back her grin. “The night’s just getting started, Peeta.”  

“In that case…” he quickly maneuvered them around and pushed her underneath him so her back rested against the mattress. Her hips cradled his legs, welcoming him. “It’s my turn. We didn’t get to eat dessert after dinner, so I’m gonna eat mine now,” he mumbled as he nibbled on her ear.

“Shit,” pretty much like she’d done with him, he started pressing kisses on his path down to her center, everywhere his lips could reach. He paid special attention to her breasts and nipples. While he suckled on one nipple, he tweaked the other gently with his thumb and forefinger.

“You are exquisite,” she was sure he had seen better, but in that moment he was looking at her like she was the most precious gem in the world. His tongue dipped in her bellybutton and she keened. He continued his sensual assault until he got to where she wanted him the most. He pressed kisses to her pubic bone and then her thighs, making sure to torture her. The bastard laughed against her skin when she whined impatiently. “We have all night, love,” she didn’t have time to dwell on the petname because he was suddenly there, and her whole world fell to nothing.

“Holy fuck!”

His tongue lapped at her, drinking her and later sucking on her clit like a man possessed, like it was his job, and oh, he did it very good.

“You are the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.” He alternated between lapping at her juices and sucking her clit. “You taste even better than I imagined,” and boy, just how much had he imagined it.

Her breathing accelerated, and when he added a finger she was done for. Everything shattered around her and she uttered out several curses.

After her orgasm passed, Peeta’s face was still buried between her thighs, no doubt trying to coax a second orgasm out of her already-weak body, and she could give him another one very easily, but she wanted to come with him inside of her. She tugged on his hair gently to guide his eyes to her. His hair was tousled (her doing, no doubt), his eyes were glowing, and his mouth and chin were covered in her juices. She doubted she’d ever seen such an arousing sight. She was sure he was at full mast by now.

“I need you inside of me. Right now,” she pulled him up and joined their lips. It was a little odd tasting herself on his tongue, but she didn’t mind.

Peeta pulled away to reach for a condom on the nightstand, and suddenly she remembered about the missing condoms. She bit her lip. She wouldn’t let something so stupid ruin her night with Peeta. It didn’t matter who he used the past few condoms with; all it mattered was that now he’d be using them with her. And more than one condom, she hoped.

He ripped the package with his teeth and rolled the prophylactic down his shaft. Once he was covered, her legs opened to welcome him in graciously. She was aching for him, and by the way Peeta was looking at her through his long lashes, she wasn’t the only one.

Considering their ardent oral sex, she imagined that once they were joined it would be fast and rough, but Peeta took his time entering her, enjoying every inch that he was inside of her. He was buried to the hilt, and she had to take a breath and relax. It’d been a while for her, and he was big. She was so full. The most delicious feeling overwhelmed her.

“Merde,” Peeta cursed, and she agreed. “You are so tight, so perfect. You’re incredible,” his lips rested against her neck, and she turned her head to catch his lips.

“Kiss me,” he did so, and once she nodded against his lips, he started moving slowly and tenderly. His left hand kept himself up so he didn’t crush her, while his right hand held hers above her head. “oh shit. I’m so full,”

Once he got a rhythm going, his thrusts accelerated, and his movements were firmer. Katniss’s hips moved forward to meet Peeta’s, and her mouth uttered the most amazing sounds he had ever heard. He thrust harder, and he felt Katniss’s nails claw his shoulders and move down to his waist. He wanted her to leave her mark on him. She could scratch him all she wanted, he was totally fine with that.

He ripped his lips from hers so he could pant against her neck, “Fuck, Katniss,”

“Oh God, yes. Fuck me,” he groaned and thrust even harder. Her nails marked his back once again, and that only spurred him on. Her walls squeezed him. He knew she was close, and he nearly saw stars when she screamed his name.

“God! Peeta!” his movements slowed up to the point he nearly stilled his hips so she could recover from her orgasm. Her walls fluttered around him, and he moaned. Only then Katniss seemed to come down fully from her high. “You’re still hard,” she pushed him away from her to lay on his back, and he obeyed. She wasted no time in settling on his lap and guiding him inside of her. She was so wet he barely had any resistance at all.

“Foutre,” Peeta moaned and she nodded breathlessly. He would never get tired of being inside of her, he was sure. At that angle he hit a deeper spot inside of her. By the sounds of her moans it seemed she enjoyed it as well.

She alternated between bouncing up and down his shaft and bracing her hands on his chest so she could rock her hips against his. Back arched, mouth spread open in a moan, chest glistening with sweat and nails running through his chest made an image that would remain plastered in his mind forever. One of the most erotic things he had ever seen in his life.

She gasped when he hit a particular spot inside of her and her teeth bit deeply her lower lip. With his thumb he rubbed her lip free of her teeth and sat forward to bring their lips together, his hands placed on her back. The new angle proved to be even more satisfactory. Katniss keened and her walls tightened around him with an impending orgasm.

“I’m gonna come.”

He nodded. “Good. Fuck, me too,” her eyes shut and her moan resonated through the bedroom.

“Oh, Peeta! Yes!”

That’s all it took for him to come undone. The coil on his belly loosened and he filled the condom, hips bucking wildly against Katniss’s. She was still coming when he finished, walls fluttering wildly. He pressed kisses all over her face and she sighed, slumping tiredly against him.

He lay back against the mattress, taking her with him with her head resting on his chest. She could probably hear his erratic heartbeat. With the movement he slipped out and he felt Katniss shudder. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple and fingers played with her dark tresses. Her nails scraped his chest lightly and he shivered. Their skin was covered in sweat, but the house was cold thanks to the freezing December wind.

With Katniss by his side, he could fully appreciate the intimacy of the moment. As much as the sex had been earthshattering, he rejoiced in just having her lying next to him, her breaths mingling with his. It felt just as good. She burrowed deeper into him and he swore he felt his heart grow at least two sizes.

Her breaths were slowly slowing down, so he pressed a kiss to her temple and stood up to go to the bathroom. He could feel Katniss’s stare burning his back.

After he had cleaned himself, he took a damp cloth for Katniss.

She was still on the bed, eyes barely open. When she felt the warm fabric wiping between her legs, she opened them wider and Peeta held back a sigh and willed his dick to control itself. He already wanted to go back to being inside of her.

Since they were no longer exerting themselves with their sensuous activities, the temperature in the room dropped even lower. Katniss sniffed, and he got clothes from his closet for the both of them. He didn’t bother with underwear, considering clothes might be removed later once again. Katniss looked unsure when he handed her his clothes and he tried not to feel disappointed.

“Um, do you think it’s a good idea that I sleep here? I mean, what if Rye wakes up?” she said, but started dressing with the clothes Peeta had given her. Her skin was up in goosebumps and she was shivering.

“Well I, uh, clearly want you to sleep in here. I don’t think Rye will wake up but if he does we can figure something out later,” Peeta said bashfully. “As long as you want to stay here, of course,”

Katniss thought it through. As an answer, she lifted the duvet and burrowed beneath the covers, making some room for Peeta. He gave a quiet sigh of relief and slid into bed next to her. She took her place with her head on his chest and his arms around her, and Peeta wondered when it’d been the last time he had felt such peace.

“Katniss?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I have to ask. Any regrets?”

She bit her lip. Her mind was still at war, debating whether sleeping with her boss had been a good idea, screaming how this could blow up in their faces if things didn’t work out, something Katniss hadn’t cared about when she had his mouth around him, and later his mouth between her thighs, and then his manhood inside of her. Now, nestled in his arms, she wasn’t sure if she still cared.

“No.” He would have to ask her again in the morning though…

“Good.”

Not too long after, she was asleep.

“Fuck! Harder,” she moaned just a couple of hours later.

“You’re so sexy. So tight. So perfect,” Peeta moaned from behind her.

She wasn’t entirely sure about being perfect, but she certainly did feel sexy with how Peeta’s tongue was ravaging her neck and shoulders and how the pounded in and out of her from behind. She felt sexy and powerful. Like she could take on the world.

She had woken up startled when she felt lapping between her legs with Peeta’s pants by her knees. Peeta was eating her out and she was on the brink of an orgasm. Not that she was complaining. If there existed any good way to wake up, it was that one. His wolfish stare nailed her to the bed.

He had made her come twice with his mouth on her clit, and before he could let her return the favor, he was already shedding his clothes at lightning speed and fumbling around for a condom and penetrating her, her legs up and over his shoulders while she threw her own shirt somewhere behind his head. He fucked her until she screamed his name so much her throat went raw.

She really did hope the walls were as thick as Peeta said.

Once she was boneless and sated, they switched positions, with her on top of him, her back to him as she rode him. He loved watching her ride him, his dick slipping in and out of her while she bounced up and down.

He needed to have his lips somewhere on her, so he sat forward and wrapped one arm around her chest so he could rub her breasts and the other rubbed her clit, his lips pressing ardent kisses on her skin. Katniss rocked back and forth and threw her head back in a long moan. Peeta turned her head to the side so he could capture her lips with his and Katniss moaned against his skin.

“You’re so big. You fuck me so good,” he would be lying if he hadn’t said his ego didn’t swell bigger. He kissed and thrust harder into her. He wanted to make her come so many times; fuck her until she could no longer remember how it felt not having him inside of her.

“I want to fuck you until you can’t walk straight,” he panted against her skin and she moaned again. “I want to fuck you every day. I want to make love to you. I want everything you’re able to give me,”

She tensed against him. His thrusts slowed down, “Sorry, I, fuck. I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t even know why I said that. Forget it, please. Let’s just-” his hips continued his sensual assault, pounding harder and Katniss whimpered. “Go back to what’s important.”

“Peeta-”

“I know.” He moaned through his thrusts.

Katniss gave a laugh, which soon turned into a groan. “No, I mean, oh God, I just don’t know.”

“Maybe we could continue this conversation another time. When you’re ready and when my brain hasn’t turned to mush from being inside of you,” his head slumped forward against her shoulder.

“Please.” His fingers rubbed her clit, and the combination of his thrusts, his hot breath on her neck and his fingers on her clit were her undoing. “Too much. Peeta!”

“Come for me. Merde, I’m gonna come,”

She exploded, and Peeta wasn’t too far behind. He lost the rhythm and his thrusts became more erratic, reckless. She squeezed him purposely so he would come with her, and he followed obediently. His hands squeezed her hips tightly, almost painfully and her breath caught. She slumped back against him and he lay them back against the sheets.

“Holy fuck,”

“That was…”

“I know.” She looked at him and they both giggled. Shiny eyes, sweaty skin, bedhead hair, and thoroughly satisfied. “Sorry I woke you up. I couldn’t help myself,”

“I don’t mind. Not one bit,” A breeze flew in and she curled into herself. It was winter in France the freaking window was open. And they were naked.

At her incredulous look, Peeta explained sheepishly, “Sorry. I can’t sleep with the windows closed. I just cracked it open a bit,”

“It’s fine,” even if her teeth were shattering and her feet were as cold as ice. She hid under the covers with Peeta and rubbed her feet up and down his calves to warm them up. Peeta nearly didn’t jump right off the bed and she laughed loudly.

“Well, you wanted the windows open. Deal with the consequences,”

“Ha, ha.” But he pulled her closer and she hid her face in his neck. Peeta’s face turned to reach for something in his nightstand. She hoped it wasn’t another condom; she wasn’t sure she could take another round so soon.

A phone screen lit up, “Shit. I have to be up in an hour,”

Katniss groaned. She detested baker hours and she wasn’t even the baker!

“Let’s make most of the hour then.” And her eyes closed. Within minutes she was asleep.

Even if she was naked, she felt oddly warm and satisfied. The sheets were up to her neck, but it was Peeta’s body heat that kept her warm, and his arms gave her a pleasant night of sleep.

At least until his demonic alarm made a shrill sound what felt like minutes later. She had the sudden need to smash the thing with a hammer.

She groaned and closed her eyes tighter. Peeta only sighed beside her, shut off the alarm and pressed a kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, and taking with him his body heat and her own. She shivered.

She contemplated getting up and closing the window and getting dressed. It was either that or dying of hypothermia.

With the sheets wrapped around her like a second skin, she shut the window and breathed a sigh of relief. The room was still cold, but it was more bearable now that the portal to the North Pole had been shut. She was reaching for her clothes when the shower started running. Biting her lip, she didn’t have to think it much before she left the sheets behind and walked in the bathroom.

“Katniss?”

The glass door and the mirror were fogged with the steam coming from the shower, so she was out of sight for Peeta. She ran inside the shower and shut the door behind her, only to crash against a sturdy chest.

“Hi,”

“Hello, mademoiselle,” he said from under the stream. “Nice of you to drop by,”

She studied his body up and down and bit her lip, completely satisfied. Johanna would be proud.

“See something you like?”

She shrugged, trying not to smile, and moved under the stream next to him so the hot water heated her cold skin. She sighed in contentment. From the corner of her eye, she saw Peeta doing some studying of his own.

She reached his bottle of shampoo and collected some gel in her hand.

“Come here,” Peeta obeyed and she rubbed the shampoo in his hair until she created suds. She massaged his scalp thoroughly with her fingertips and nails and Peeta shuddered and sighed. His hands rested on her hips and pulled her closer, until their bare chests were pressed together. Her nipples hardened against his chest and she could feel him slowly hardening. It was a moment oddly erotic. It wasn’t sex, but it was just as personal and intimate.

She tilted his head back and let the water rinse out the shampoo from his hair. She helped until all the bubbles had disappeared.

“My turn,” Peeta washed her hair with his shampoo. He tried not to feel like such a caveman for thinking how much he loved the smell of his shampoo on her. That way everyone who smelled her would know she belonged to someone.

Did she, though? Belong to someone? Not really, he answered himself.

That was a talk Katniss was not ready for, and he didn’t want to pressure her. Even if he did love smelling himself on her.

Next, he soaped her skin. Her arms, breast, stomach. When he got to her pubic bone her breath hitched, but he only cleaned her, no more. He kneeled in front of her and did her legs and feet, and she took the soap from him and covered his own body in bubbles. He was hardening even more with every soft pass of her hands over his skin.

He pushed her under the stream once she was done lathering him in soap, and his hands helped the water rinse the bubbles. Once he got to her navel, his hand lowered even more until he reached her lips. His fingers teased her entrance, and Katniss gasped, digging her nails into his biceps.

His thumb rubbed teasingly her clit. Katniss groaned, “Stop teasing,”

He laughed. When she was not only wet from the shower but with her own juices, he inserted a finger and then another one inside of her and she sighed. Her head slumped back against the bathroom tiles, which gave his lips free access to her neck. He wasted no time in reaching for the skin on her neck while his middle finger and thumb continued their assault on Katniss’s pussy.

He fucked her with his fingers, and her nails created yet another masterpiece on his shoulders until she came around his fingers. “God, Peeta!” he removed his fingers and licked her juices off. She tasted incredibly.

Katniss took no time in recovering, and it took him by surprise when she pushed him against the opposite wall and sunk to her knees, eye-level with his rock-hard dick. She started pressing kisses to his skin and his hands tightened around her hair. She took him in her hot mouth, and his world slowed down. Her tongue worked wonders over his skin, while she pumped what her mouth could not reach. He nearly fainted when she pulled away… only to suck his balls and sac into her mouth.

He had been with several girls before who only gave him head as a courtesy for him going down on them, so they weren’t exactly keen on the job. Katniss, on the other hand, blew him like she loved doing it, not because she felt the need to. He was the luckiest bastard in the world, no questions asked.

She went back to sucking and licking his dick, and he tried really hard to keep his thrusts small and gentle, until the exquisite feeling became too much and he felt like he was going to explode. He tried to push her away, but she only held him tighter by the hips, inciting him to come inside her mouth. He couldn’t hold off any longer and blew his load; Katniss swallowed every drop of come and licked her lips after. She gave him a salacious grin and he pulled her up for a kiss.

“Something for you to remember me by while you’re working all day,”

He groaned. “Trust me; last night and this morning’s events will be on my mind all day. I’m not sure if I should handle the ovens at all today unless I want to burn the whole place down,”

Katniss laughed. “Then do stay away from the ovens please.”

He shut the shower. Fortunately, the room was steamy enough so that the cold didn’t stab them right away. He only had one towel, so he wrapped it around Katniss and rubbed her arms up and down to warm her up.

Once she looked drier, he moved his naked ass from outside the shower and took another towel from the cupboard and wrapped himself up in it. He was certainly starting to feel a lot colder now.

They went to his bedroom and Katniss started putting on her (his) pajama again. Considering it was before 5 am she’d for sure go back to sleep.

“Too bad you have you have to go to work,” Katniss said from the edge of his bed while he put his work uniform on. He saw the mischief in her eyes and tried to keep the dirty thoughts away from his head.

“Tell me about it. I’ll be back by 5 though, promise.”

“What are your plans for the day?” he asked Katniss while they made his bed together. He insisted she could stay sleeping in his room even if he wasn’t there, but Katniss said Rye shouldn’t find her in his Dad’s bedroom in the morning. He guessed she was right.

At least not yet, he added in his mind.

“I’m thinking of taking Rye to the mall. If I don’t take him to see Santa today he’ll kill me,”

Peeta snorted. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Try to find out what he wants for Christmas, would you?”

“Sure,”

They finished making the bed in a comfy silence and when it was time to go Katniss walked him to his car. He tried not to hesitate too much before wrapping his arms around her, satisfied when her hands rested on his chest.

“will I be seeing you two at lunch today?”

“Um, I don’t know. Do you want us there?”

“I always want you near me,”

Katniss bit her lip to hold her smile. “Fine, then. I’ll take you lunch. Any preferences?”

“Well, I’d love just to eat you.”

“Peeta!” she laughed and he captured her lips with his. She sighed into his mouth and returned the kiss eagerly.

He was considering calling in sick and staying in bed with Katniss when she pulled away, but her forehead rested against his. “okay, time to go back to the real world.”

He sighed. “Last night meant the world to me. I just hope you know that… and I really hope you don’t regret it because I don’t know what I’d do if you do.”

“I don’t regret it.” She said decidedly and pressed another kiss to his lips. Albeit short, it warmed him from his head down to his toes.

“I’ll see you at noon,” he said and pulled away.

“I’ll see you at noon.”

If they only knew they wouldn’t be seeing each other at noon…

…lol I’m just kidding! No such drama for this story. Btw did you catch the explanation for the missing condoms? It’s subtle and it’s up there.

I hope this was good enough and that you guys like it. I wanted to keep writing something else, but I figured +20k words was more than enough to bore you.

Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see. I’m thinking we’ll have one more chapter (for real this time) and an epilogue.

Kisses and hugs to all of you!

[bigmoodword]

11/11/11 Tag

tagged by @silver-wields-a-pen -- thanks a bunch! this was so thought-provoking.

1. Who is your favourite oc? 

probably a toss-up between the two oldest:

a werewolf who hides his cold-burning hate behind a sweet smile and endless offers to make bitchin’ cups of tea/coffee/poison/cocoa

an immortal with unhealthy escapist tendencies, livin’ that long life as if EXTRA is their personal motto

at this point, they’ve run through several names each. here’s hoping i finally set 'em in stone sooner rather than later.

2. What themes do you struggle writing? 

healthy, established romance. i can do flirtation and doomed relationships, but actually solid relationships are a whole different beast. it’s kind of funny, because although there are plenty of problems to work through even in the best relationship, i have a tendency to tidy them with too nice a bow. lucky me, that’s my life experience, but it doesn’t make for the most engaging story.

3. What’s been the best thing about writing your wip?

striking creative oil. it’s wonderful to be so enamored with an idea that all my doubts dissipate and the words just... flow. it’s a feeling i remember from childhood, and it’s a relief to know it can still strike.

4. What themes has your favourite story included? 

survivor’s guilt. betrayal. missed opportunities. miscommunication. learning to let go. learning how to love oneself. abuse. wearing a mask. class struggles. systemic oppression. the importance of hope--whatever that ultimately means for you.

honestly, these tend to pop up in all my stories to varying degrees.

5. What time of day do you prefer writing?

i tend to switch between the night owl and early bird approaches. the former pops up when i’m on a serious roll, the latter when i’ve hit a rhythm of jotting down a few hundred words over coffee.

6. What’s your favourite relationship trope to write? 

a very specific kind of unrequited love. like the two are this 👌 close to actually coming together--they’d honestly be pretty great!--except they fail to communicate mutual interest so each assumes the other isn’t. or maybe they’re too preoccupied with their own issues to have a good relationship, so temptations aside, one or both decide it’s better to pass. it’s the idea of “maybe in another life” or “if only we’d met x years ago or y years from now.” can’t get enough of it!

7. What detail about your ocs has surprised you? 

they’re all so messed up. i mean. granted, most of them are born by taking a personality flaw (whether my own or one i struggle to understand) to a certain extreme, but even those that start on an even keel inevitably hit a significant low point. i think it’s an extension of the idea “everybody’s got something” but i hope someday i can manage to have a character that’s both interesting and well-adjusted throughout.

8. Thoughts on including romance in other genres? 

i’m ace, so romance often misses the mark for me. the fact my favorite romantic trope is two people not ending up together probably says a lot on its own. more specifically, unless the romance really adds to the wider story, i prefer it in the background. i think of certain characters flirting and growing closer as sprinkles atop the main plot’s cupcake.

9. Favourite writing snack? 

coffee! i don’t tend to snack much in general, especially not when writing, but i’m always game to break out the bean juice.

10. Favourite villain trope? 

the anti-villain. as a huge “fan” of gray morality, i guess that’s pretty darn predictable. while obviously i’m not here to root for villains, i like to understand them. i think it’s important to recognize how an otherwise good person becomes villainous, and i also have a certain affection for reformed villains. j/s

11. Best scene you’ve written? 

oooo. that’s a good one. i’m not comfortable calling anything my “best” scene, but i tend to favor those where major plot points finally intersect. here’s one i still quite like--

background: urban fantasy, slayer organization, investigation into a recently caught perp

trigger warning: implied sexual abuse

Sven didn’t bother returning Nina’s call until he was in the werewolf’s ritzy apartment, and when she picked up, she immediately reported how the guy had copped to lying throughout his first interview.

As he examined the titles in the bookcases, Sven figured that meant his perp was smart enough to recognize a boon. The asshole who’d put him in a wheelchair had also thrown him a softball cover story, and if he played along, his pack wouldn’t get hurt. Lucky puppy.

Yet Nina remained skeptical. She specified how Nate—that beacon of truth—had caught the werewolf talking on the sly about a little friend. He wouldn’t just make that up, so of course she expected him to search high and low for any proof. Just in case.

He promised he’d do his best then sat cross-legged before the shelves. He put the phone on speaker, set it on a dizzyingly ornate rug, and began pulling books out. One by one, he’d flip robotically through the pages, looking for anything of note.

Meanwhile, Nina’s voice lost its authoritarian edge, “What was up before?”

“Nothing important. Just a guy. Lonely. Works at the hotel.” Having said the words, he tried not to picture her growing smirk. “One thing led to another and…”

“Good for you.” A pause. “Hey. Hey, Sven. Was he cute?”

“Quite.”

“'Quite.’” He could hear her rolling her eyes. “And? Did you, well, have a good time?”

“Debatably.”

“Huh.” Nina thought aloud, “See, you were awfully mad at me when I called you before. That would imply that you were, in fact, having a good time. Otherwise, you would’ve appreciated the excuse, right? Right. But you didn’t. Since we’re talking about you, that means something.”

He snorted.

“Really! It does, and I hope you didn’t just run this poor guy off, you know? You should try meeting up again. Do a little wine and dine. Something nice. Classy. You have that red sweater that looks nice; you should wear that.”

Sven looked down at said sweater. “… Right. Well, I gave him my number, so we’ll—”

“Damn, Sven! He must’ve been really cute!”

He remembered Drake’s anxious wiggling and cracked a smile. “Yeah, he was pretty damn cute.”

Bit by bit, he shared details, and Nina nearly blew out his phone’s speaker with a squeal. She insisted others would give up their firstborn for the kind of porno romance he apparently lived, and her office chair creaked as she huffed a triumphant sigh. She was so animated about the whole thing, as if it’d happened to her instead of him, and however briefly, he thought maybe he felt a fluttering of that same enthusiasm. He wanted to, anyway. 

Even after hanging up, something twisted in his gut every time he thought about Drake calling or, hell, simply sending a three-letter text. But realistically, that was as likely to be dread as giddiness.

With pen and pad, Sven made notes about bookmarked passages as well as the odd comment in the margins, then restored each book to its original slot. Likewise, he compiled the contents of drawers, filing cabinets, and closets. He’d come prepared to scrub the evidence, but apparently, the evidence already suggested the werewolf lived alone. 

There were no articles of clothing that deviated from the rest of his wardrobe. The master bath featured a single toothbrush, and the kitchen just enough rotting food to feed a particularly voracious adult male. He couldn’t even find a hair that wasn’t deep brown and short.

He bagged a phone and tablet for further examination, then muttered to himself about how he really should’ve done at least that much beforehand. That is, the first time he visited the apartment, but no. He’d made his catch, handed the perp off, and disappeared for a long run in the Boston fog like a coward.

To be fair, the place still gave him the creeps. It bothered him that the overturned furniture, smashed vase, and cracked mirror were all exactly where he’d left them. There were blood stains too. Deep brown and foul.

In a small safe, he found jewelry, yellowed woodcuts, and a first edition copy of Leaves of Grass. Extraordinary, sure. Cataloged, absolutely. Yet, save for the werewolf’s budding psych profile, such finds were also woefully meaningless.

He moved on to the lockbox dug out from under the king-sized bed. As with the safe, he was able to pop it open without too much difficulty, but unlike the safe, its contents raised eyebrows. 

Polaroids. Hundreds of them aggressively rubber-banded into tidy stacks, all meticulously sorted. He held his breath as he unwrapped the first only to exhale a bitter “of course” at the revealed photos.

The shots lacked faces. Just bodies. All slender. All male. All dubiously legal. Twisted. Bound. Violated. Every single one manipulated with an escalating ingenuity. Clearly, the werewolf considered it an art-form. 

After that first stack, Sven quickly flipped through the others. He was convinced the whole stash was worthless. None of the subjects had tattoos, piercings, or any significant scarring. No one depicted could be reasonably identified. He was wasting his time.

But he had to make sure, and the deeper he waded, the more his shoulders tensed, the more he felt walls close in. He caught himself listening for heavy footsteps outside the door.

Childish. At its heart, it was all so childish. 

And pointless.

Then he found a stack with a face. He found Drake.

My questions

1. Who was your first OC? 2. What was the first story you ever wrote? 3. What book (or other piece of media) has most inspired you? 4. How do you fight writer’s block? 5. What is your favorite genre to write in and why? 6. How would you describe your writing style? 7. In general, do you think you’d get along with your protagonists? 8. What do you love most about your WIPs? 9. What is your favorite character trope? 10. What is your least favorite character trope? 11. What’s an upcoming scene you’re excited to write? Tagging: @mvcreates ; @whataremetaphor ; @phloxxiing ; @gaytivity ; @jessica-shouldbewriting ; @oyef ; @blurrywhitelies ; @savannahscripts ; @imaghostwriter ; @quilloftheclouds ; @maabon

[california-grethan]

Safety Blanket - Needed // {Dolan Twins}

Description: The Dolan Twins, as they were known by the entire world, were your best friends. But to you, they were simply Gray and E. They’ve been in your life for as long as you could remember, and, thankfully, their fame didn’t change that. If anything, their fame made their presence in your life even stronger. Growing up, they had to deal with situations that no teenager should have had to deal with, but they pushed through. They pushed through, and look where they are now. They had millions of girls wanting the honor of calling them their boyfriends. They didn’t have to worry about money. They could buy whatever they wanted and do whatever they wished, but just because they seemingly had the entire world at their fingertips, doesn’t mean that everything was sunshines and rainbows. You were their safe haven, you were their escape. You provided them with the stability and comfort they needed when times got rough. You were their safety blanket and no one else could take your place.

Warning(s): grab a tish, sis. it’s gonna be a sad one

Requested: [yeahhh] // [nopeee]

Word Count: [3,216]

I was slowly pulled out of sleep by the sound of my phone vibrating against my bedside table. I opened my eyes, squinting due to the bright glow coming from the piece of technology that woke me. I reached out, unplugging it from its charger and wrapping my fingers around it. My breath hitched as I read the name on the screen, knowing that the person calling wouldn’t be doing so at this time if everything was fine.

I cleared my throat as I slid my thumb across the screen to answer the call. Bringing it up to my ear, I greeted the other person, my voice still heavy with sleep. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

My heart broke as I heard him sniffle before responding, his voice strained, “Y/N?”

I sat up a little straighter in bed, feeling a little more awake at this point. “Hi, bub. I’m right here. What’s wrong, Gray?”

He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry. I know I woke you up, but we need you.”

I was quick to throw my covers off my legs, securing my phone between my ear and my shoulder. I flipped the lights on and carelessly rummaged through my closet, trying to find something to throw on. I hissed in pain as I rammed my foot into the corner of my bed frame, cursing the piece of furniture under my breath for causing me pain.

“Y/N?” he asked again.

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry. I stubbed my toe. Listen, I’ll be there in ten, I just have to throw something on real quick. Hang on, alright? I promise I’ll be there as soon as possible. I love you.”

“Alright, love you, too. Drive safe.”

I hummed in agreement, getting ready to hang up the phone, but stopped when I heard him call my name once again.

“Y/N?”

I quickly brought my phone back up to my ear, “Yes, sweets?”

“Sorry for waking you up again, and for being such a burden,” he apologized.

I shook my head, but stopped as soon as I realized he couldn’t see anything I was doing. “Hey, hey, don’t be like that, yeah? You guys aren’t a burden, not at all. I’m always here because I want to be, okay?”

“Okay… We just- we can’t thank you enough for what you do for us. We’ll see you soon.”

I hung up, and resumed trying to pull on a pair of Adidas training pants and a random hoodie that I most likely stole from one of the boys. Once I was clothed and finished brushing my teeth, I jogged out of my apartment, my phone and keys in my hand and my purse slung over my shoulder. Turning the key into the ignition, I started the car: rushing to put it into drive and pulling out of my parking space. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, my anxiety about the situation causing my mind to drift. My distracted state recalling the memory of the incident that deemed me their only true source of comfort.

*Flashback*

I ran towards the two identically dressed boys that were wearing small frowns on their faces, waving the invitation and t-shirt in my small hands.

“Ethan! Grayson! Look at this!” I shoved the two objects towards them, showing off what one of the class parents gave to me just minutes ago.

They looked at each other, sharing a look that I didn’t quite pick up. Ethan turned to me, saying “Oh, that’s cool!”

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, sensing something different about the tone of his voice. He tried to make it seem like he was excited, but the grimace that he wore on his face gave away his true feelings.

“Where are your invitations and t-shirts?” I asked them.

Both boys immediately looked down to the ground. Grayson playing with the hem of one of his many football t-shirts, something he typically did when he was nervous or anxious. “We didn’t get one,” he mumbled.

I grew even more confused at his words, “What? It’s probably a mistake! I’ll go tell Alison’s mom that they skipped you guys!” I turned my head, searching for one of the parents that came in to help today. I started walking away when I saw who I was looking for, but was held back by two small hands that were wrapped around my arms.

“Guys! Let go! I gotta go talk to Ali’s mom, so you can get your t-shirts and invitations for the end of the year party!”

They let go of me, only to spin me around to face them. They both shook their heads at my words, but it was Ethan that spoke up this time. “No, it wasn’t a mistake, Y/N.”

I stared at the two of them, “What do you mean? It’s a class party, of course everyone’s invited!”

Grayson shook his head once again. “We never get invited. No one’s parents like us because we’re ‘too crazy.’”

My eyes widened at his words, “That’s not true!”

Ethan scoffed, “Yeah, it is! When was the last time you saw the two of us at someone’s birthday party?”

I tapped my finger against my chin, trying to remember the last birthday party I went to. But, with every party I thought of, I couldn’t remember my two best friends being there. I looked at the twins, a knowing look on both of their faces.

“Oh,” I murmured softly, “you guys really are never invited to parties.”

They both wore a frown on their face. “Yeah,” Ethan said.

Without thinking twice about it, I tore the invitation down the middle, a satisfied look on my face as I continued to tear it into smaller pieces. Looking up, I saw the two boys giving me surprised looks.

“Y/N! Why’d you do that?” Grayson asked.

I threw the pieces of torn paper to the ground, making a show of stomping on the pile. Shrugging, I replied, “If my two bestest friends in the entire world aren’t going to the party, then I don’t want to go. It won’t be fun if you guys aren’t there.”

They both grinned at me, sandwiching me in a hug. After they let go of me, I grabbed their hands, dragging them over to the swings, wanting to enjoy the rest of recess.

I grinned at the two boys, waving goodbye as I ran towards my mom. “Hi, Mommy!”

“Hello, honey!” She knelt down in front of me, wrapping me in a comforting hug. She smiled and waved at Mrs. Dolan as walked past us with the twins and Cameron in tow. The other woman gave a friendly smile and waved back, but didn’t say anything to my mom.

My mom pushed herself back up, taking my hand in hers and leading me to the car. I climbed into the car, settling into the car seat and buckling my seatbelt.

“So, how was your day, Y/N?” my mom asked as she drove.

“It was pretty good, but did you know that no one likes the twins, Mommy?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Ali’s mom was giving out the invitations and t-shirts for the end of the year class party today, but they didn’t get one. They said it’s because none of the parents like them.”

“I’m sorry you had to find that out about your best friends, sweetheart. But yeah, some of the parents think they’re a little too crazy.”

My forehead crinkled in anger. “They’re mean! They’re two of the bestest people ever! Ethan and Grayson are the only people in class that I one-hundred percent like,” I huffed.

My mom chuckled softly, finding my anger somewhat entertaining. “I know, sweetheart. I agree with you! Those parents are mean, especially because the boys are only little kids. I personally love the boys!”

My eyes widened as an idea came to me. “Mommy!” I exclaimed.

She looked at me through the rearview mirror, her left eyebrow raised in question. “Yeah?”

“Can we put together a little party in the treehouse for me and the twins? Just so they’re not sad about going to the class party. The three of us can have our own little party instead!”

She smiled at me, “That’s a great idea, sweetheart! Very sweet of you to think of that. We’ll do it on Friday. How ‘bout we start planning it when you finish your homework?”

I nodded eagerly, unable to contain my excitement about the idea.

I jumped up and down in my spot as I waited for the boys to make their way up to the porch of my house. I waved at them excitedly, “Hey, guys!”

The two boys grinned at me, immediately engulfing me in a hug when they reached me. “Why did you invite us to your house? You didn’t even tell us! Our mom just told us to get in the car and told us we were coming over,”Ethan said.

I didn’t say anything, just grabbing both of them by their hands and pulling them behind me. I dragged them to the backyard and stopped just in front of the tree that my treehouse sat on. Letting go of their hands, I started making my way up the ladder, but stopped when I noticed that they weren’t right behind me.

I looked down at them expectedly, “What’re you guys waiting for?”

“Why are we going up to the treehouse?” Grayson asked.

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t ask questions! Just come up and see for yourselves.”

I saw them shrug their shoulders at each other before Grayson started up the ladder first, Ethan right behind him. I pulled myself up into the treehouse, standing immediately so the boys could also come in. Once they both pulled themselves in, I grinned at them, waiting for them to look around the room.

Both boys gasped once they saw the decorations all around the room. Ethan spoke first, “Y/N? Did you do all this for us?”

I nodded proudly, “Yeah! I didn’t want you guys to feel left out because you weren’t invited to the class party, so I asked my mom to help me plan one for the three of us!”

Once again, Ethan and Grayson sandwiched me in between the two of them. “We love you, Y/N, like a lot,” they both said.

I smiled, “I love you guys, too. I hope that the three of us are best friends forever!”

*End of Flashback*

A sad smile found its way onto my face as I recalled the memory. Little did I know then that my hope would come true: my friendship with them at this point was unbreakable; nothing could possibly break the bond that the three of us had formed after thirteen years.

Some of the weight was lifted off my shoulders as I got closer to the apartment complex that the twins lived in. I made quick work of parking, immediately jumping out of my car and jogging towards the building. I impatiently waited for the elevator, jamming my thumb repeatedly against the button, completely aware that it wouldn’t make the elevator come faster, but my anxiety getting the best of me.

“Thank the fucking lord,” I mumbled when the the doors finally opened. My foot restlessly tapped against the floor of the elevator as I waited for it to bring me to the level that the twins lived on. When I reached their apartment, I unlocked the door with the key that they gave me when they moved in.

I stepped into the apartment, toeing my shoes off before walking any further. I padded across the room, making my way towards Ethan’s room since I could hear sounds coming from that direction. I knocked on the door softly, pushing it open and sticking my head into the room. “Guys? I’m here.”

“Y/N?” I heard Ethan call out.

“Yeah. Hey, E.” I pushed the door open, making my way into the room and giving him a small smile.

His eyes looked tired and puffy, a sight that made my heart hurt. I hated to see them in pain, if I could take it all away, I would. I wouldn’t care that I was hurting, their happiness was more important to me.

“Where’s Gray?” I asked.

Ethan pushed himself up to a sitting position. “He’s right there,” he pointed to the foot of his bed. Grayson was sprawled across the bottom half of the mattress, his mouth slightly open and his right arm curled underneath his head, acting as a cushion. “He just fell asleep. Gray’s definitely having a harder time coping, this time at least.”

I climbed into bed, slipping underneath the covers. Ethan instantly curled into my side, his arms making their way around my torso. Within seconds, the boy that usually towered over me seemed like a little boy again. He rested his head on my chest, something that he did whenever he felt anxious, claiming that the sound of my heartbeat calmed him down. I played with his hair as the two of us laid in a peaceful silence, only the sound of the television filling the room. My chest tightened when I felt tears soaking the front of my shirt.

“E?” I asked in a whisper, not wanting to wake the other boy up. “Ready to talk about it yet?”

He shook his head and gripped me tighter. The current situation jogging my mind of yet another memory.

*Flashback*

I grasped my chest in shock, trying to slow my heart rate down from being almost scared to death. I spun around, facing my window, my eyes wide with fear. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in when I realized who it was.

“Jesus Christ, you two,” I said, exasperated, as I opened the window wider, allowing them entrance into my room. “You almost scared me to death.”

The two teenage boys clambered into my room, lacking grace in that moment despite being so quick on their feet when they’re out on the field. “Sorry, Y/N,” they said in unison, giving me a kiss on either side of my cheek before making their way to my bed and collapsing down onto the mattress.

I rolled my eyes, “You guys know I do have a front door, right?”

Both boys shrugged as they pulled their phones out of their pockets and made themselves comfortable on my bed. “There’s no fun in going through the front door, Y/N,” Grayson said from behind the screen of his phone.

My eyes widened, remembering that they were supposed to stay off their phones because they were currently on the receiving end of hate from kids in our town. I made my way across the room, snatching their phones from their hands. “Hey!” They complained.

I scanned their phone screens, the app that was last opened confirming that they’d been doing what I feared. “Cam, Lisa, my mom, and I, all told you guys to stay off this app! Reading through what people are saying about you guys isn’t helping anyone, especially not the two of you.”

“Don’t talk like it affects you. You wouldn’t know how it feels, people aren’t threatening to beat the crap out of you,” Ethan muttered bitterly.

Grayson instantly smacked the back of his brother’s head, “Don’t talk to her like that! She’s all we’ve got.”

His brother sighed, giving me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Y/N. Everything is just kinda sucking right now.”

“It’s fine, and I know. But if you don’t think this affects me, you’re an idiot. I hate when you guys aren’t happy. And, I don’t get why everyone’s attacking you guys. What have you done to any of them?”

The younger twin was the one that spoke up first, “It’s not that we’ve done anything to anyone, but because we do the shit that we do. No one likes different in this town, and that’s what E and I are: different.”

I let out a sad sigh as I squeezed myself in between the two boys. Without any hesitation, they both curled into my side, the younger twin threw an arm over my torso, his head on my stomach. Ethan’s head was laid against my chest, his ear pressed up against me: searching for the sound of my heartbeat. For a while, we just laid in a comfortable silence, the only sounds you could hear were our breathing.

It was Grayson that disrupted the stillness of the room, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, bub?”

“Are you sure you still wanna be our friend?”

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his question. “Of course! Why would you even ask that?”

Without missing a beat, Ethan answered, “Because people will probably target you for being friends with us.”

I rolled my eyes, “Let them come after me. I’ll give every single person that does a piece of my goddamn mind. Listen, I’ve already put in almost ten years of my life into this friendship, I can’t possibly throw that all away now.” We fell back into a comfortable silence until we all eventually fell asleep; all three of us succumbing into a deep slumber easily, content with each other’s presence and putting aside what was to come in the following day.

 *End of Flashback*

My body stiffened slightly as I felt Grayson stir in his sleep. I tried to keep as still as possible, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. My ears perked up at the sound of the boy mumbling my name under his breath. I ran my thumb across Ethan’s forearm, signaling him to loosen his hold on me. Despite not wanting to do so, the boy cooperated to allow me to check on his brother. I crawled off the bed and walked around to face him, crouching down to press a kiss against his temple. At my touch, his eyes fluttered open, “Y/N?.”

I nodded, “Yeah. I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?”

He gave me a soft smile, “Sorry again for waking you and making you come here.”

I shook my head at the boy, “Hey, what did I say about apologizing? I don’t mind, and I never will. Now, do you wanna talk about what’s going on in your head? Or do you wanna cuddle and save it for tomorrow?”

Grayson brought a hand up to rub his eyes that were puffy with sleep. “Can it wait ‘till tomorrow? I’m exhausted”

“Definitely, bub, whatever you need. Now, c’mon, let’s all go to sleep.”

I crawled back into bed, laying in the middle of the two boys as they settled into positions they deemed comfortable enough to sleep in. Needless to say, the three of us fell asleep in the same way we did that night how many years ago before our first day as freshmen in highschool. As of right now, everything wasn’t okay, but it didn’t matter because at one point, it will be. I don’t know when that’ll be, but I know for a fact that I’ll do anything and everything necessary to get my best friends back to their happy selves. I was willing to because it was my job as their safety blanket.  

A/N: Hey lovelies! Sorry for any possible feels you guys might have at the end of this😕 (if it makes you feel better, mine are definitely 10000x worse from writing this) this imagine began with me getting sad about the boys being sad and knowing I can’t do anything about it🙃 so, I decided to put those emotions into writing! 

p.s. this isn’t finished! there’s going to be two more parts after this, most likely, idk, it really depends on how writing goes

p.p.s THANKS FOR THE 400 OF YOU THAT ARE NOW FOLLOWING ME!💕 It means a lot to me that you guys have deemed my blog interesting enough to follow me🙃 If you read this, hop into my ask and tell me “I came for _____, but stayed for ______.” I love you guys💗☺️

[huntertales]

Part Two: The Secret Life of the Rich and Famous. (The French Mistake S06E15)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader find themselves in an alternate reality where everyone believes they are actors who star in the show, “Supernatural” about two brothers and their best friend who hunt monsters. Things only grow worse when the relationships between old enemies and friends become distorted in ways unimaginable. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,371.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

*Y/F/N = Your “French Mistake” First Name *Y/F/L/N = Your “French Mistake” Last Name

Dead sea brine, blood of lamb and the bone of a lesser saint. The three ingredients you needed to get you back home. Mix the sea bribe and pour about a mason jar size full of blood together in a bowl and crush the bone. The last step was the easiest. All you needed to do was find a window, paint the same sigil Balthazar and jump back into the universe where you were known as Y/N Y/LN. In retrospect it all sounded so easy. Was anything ever for you and the boys? No, it wasn’t.

You suggested getting the hell out of here and finding some place to lay low until you had a secure way of getting these precious ingredients. The boys had other ideas. They outnumbered you with the ingenious plan of going back to the scene of the crime. Surely a TV set was going to have real lamb’s blood and a human bone just lying around the place. You stood next to the broken window and watched as the boys rifled through drawers and overturned all sorts of objects. Dean was finding it hard to find that box of dead sea brine. Sam found success when he opened up the top drawer to Bobby’s desk and pulled out the same baggie Balthazar has searched for.

“Backbone of a lesser saint. Told you...uh,” Sam was about to speak the words of victory at what he was able to find. He lifted up to take a closer inspection at what he found. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your brow. Quick as that smile grew on his face, the quicker it fell when he squeezed the supposed bone. "It’s plastic.”

“Check this out.” Dean found what looked to be a dagger and held it up for you and Sam to inspect. He bent the blade back and forth. It was easy because it was plastic. You found yourself smiling when Dean grabbed another knife, and without Sam suspecting it, he jabbed his brother with it. Sam flinched slightly, thinking it was the real thing. It wasn't, of course. "It's fake. It's all fake!"

“No. Don't listen to me. What do I know?" You mocked the two of them. Your lips stretched wider into a smirk as the both of them went to look in your direction with annoyance. “Obviously more than you. Now, you idiots want to do this right or not? Let’s get the hell out of here.”

"Of course, everything is fake. We're on a film set." Sam said. You and the boys headed out  of the set and back to the lot where you spotted all those Impalas. They looked real enough to work when you gave the suggestion of stealing one of them and riding off the lot. Nobody would question if a couple of actors wanted to take it for a spin. "We gotta get back to the real world."

You and the boys got into the Impala like old times. The car seemed real enough and functioning just fine with the keys conveniently left in the ignition. When Dean turned it on, the familiar purr of Baby's engine roared to life and the wipers worked just fine when they began to take off the layer of dirt caked on. What possible reason would Baby be covered in this kind of filth? You didn't question it farther than that or cared when you started moving.

“All right, we go round up the genuine supplies, bring them here for the spell.” You said. Things were almost looking up...until the car started acting up. The Impala was barely round a corner and driving less than a minute before things started to happen. Dean couldn't accelerate past five minutes an hour and the gears started to squeak slightly and groan. “What the hell is going on? What is wrong with this thing?”

“Mr. Ackles, please. Mr. Ackles, stop.”

You turned your head to the left side of the Impala when you heard knocking on the driver's side window. Someone's gloved hand wiped away the dirt so they could peer inside to see what all of you were doing. You saw a kid that looked no older than twenty frantically jogging to the speed the Impala was going. He must have been a crewmember trying to keep his job. You winced in embarrassment from what you had just done.

“Dean,” Sam broke the news to his brother. “It’s not the Impala.”

“You think? It’s a freaking prop. Just like everything else. Nice work, Nancy Drew.” Dean said. He threw his hands up in the air in frustration before slamming them down on the wheel. Your plan turned out to be a dud just like theirs. Dean shut off the engine and stepped foot out to be greeted by the kid, who was nervously mumbling thank you’s. The oldest Winchester wasn’t in the mood. If he was this supposed Jensen Ackles, star of this stupid show, he had a house. Which meant all of you could lay low there. “How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?”

The kid nervously smiled. He escorted you across the backlot where the three of you would be able to get off the set, properly. It was a matter of time until you were sitting in the backseat of the company car, squeezed between both boys after you insisted that you would be more than happy to carpool with them. Eco friendly was your excuse, a few crewmembers gave you a bit of a surprised look from what they saw. The backseat was rather roomy enough for the three of you. You could at least let out a slight sigh of relief from getting the hell out of that place.

“You know whereabouts you want to drop you off?” The driver asked from the front seat. You and the boys quickly stopped your whispered conversation and fell silent. “Jensen?”

“Me? Yes. Uh…” Dean found himself responding when you elbowed him in the ribcage when he was being addressed by his supposed real name. He tried to think of an answer when he looked over at his brother. “I—I’ll just tag along with, uh...Jared here.”

“Since when are you guys talking?” The driver asked, you furrowed your brow slightly from his question. You heard that a few times by passing, but it was the first time someone asked you up front.

“Yeah, you know what, Clint?” Sam spoke up. The driver corrected the younger Winchester by saying his name was Clif. You didn’t really care what his name was. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Clif, obviously. So I think we’re gonna go back to my place...and uh, do some work.”   

"Work on our acting. For our characters. For the show." Dean added. You shook your head from how much Dean was talking. Clif chuckled and seemed to believe the lie before focusing back onto driving. Dean looked out the window to see all of you were driving down a busy highway in the city. He asked where about all of you were, but he found his answer when he saw a Vancouver sign pass by. He sank back into his seat when he realized. "Dude, we're not even in America."

You turned your head to look at the older Winchester with a look of disbelief. “You honestly think that’s the worst of it?”

+ + +

It was a short car ride until you and the boys were escorted to this supposed Jared Padalecki household. But to say that it was any other house would have been an understatement of the century. The three of you were stepping into a freaking mansion. At least three sizes bigger than your own home back in your universe. It seemed being on a not so popular TV show sure brought in the big bucks. You stepped inside the place with the boys leading the way. Each of you were taken back when you realized this all belonged to Sam—or Mr. Padalecki. And it was all of his to enjoy. You suddenly began to wonder what kind of place you called home.

“Nice modest digs, Jay-Z.” Dean remarked.

The first level of the house was nothing short of something out of an interior magazine for the rich and famous. High ceilings with dark wood paneling and floorboards that were so clean, it showed off your reflection. Along with furniture that was sleek and rather expensive looking. You were impressed, that was for sure. “Wow.” Sam gawked. “I must be the star of this thing.”

"Yeah, you wish." You said. You wandered further into the mansion and examined all sorts of expensive and impressive looking things that decorated the place. While most of the stuff were paintings or useless knick knacks that served nothing more than to fill empty space, you found yourself a little baffled at what laid across the room. “Check it out.”

"What am I," Sam was taken back at the sight of something that looked like an oversized and gray coffin. You stepped forward to take a closer look at it when you realized what it might be. "Dracula?"

You bent down and opened up the top to the thing to inspect it further, the boys discovered that it wasn’t a coffin, but in fact a tanning bed. You looked over at Sam when you started to chuckle at what you found. "George Hamilton Dracula." You said, shutting the top. “I hope Jared realizes how bad tanning is for your skin.”

"He sure knows how to stock a bar. Now we're talking." Dean said. It didn't take him long to discover an entire liquor cabinet stocked with all sorts of wine and whiskey calling his name. Dean walked over and happily began to fix himself a drink. You crossed your arms over your chest and continued looking around the place. All of a sudden, the three of you abruptly stopped what you were doing when you heard a yelping that sounded like it was an animal of some sort. Dean went to the door and peered outside to see what it was. “Dude, you have a camel in your backyard.”

“It’s an alpaca, dumbass.” You and the boys heard another voice come out of nowhere and corrected the older Winchester. You quickly looked over your shoulder and to the balcony on the second floor to see a face you hadn't seen in what felt like years. Dean mumbled the woman’s name with a bit of surprised at who he saw in the flesh. He had killed her after what she did to all of you. Now she headed down the stairs, live and in the flesh, dressed like she was ready for a night out on the town. “Right. Cause that one never gets old. How was work today, hon?”

Sam didn’t know what to say. He watched as the woman he’d known as Rudy, demon who had turned his life upside down and released Lucifer from the cage. The one who was stabbed by his brother and left for dead in that church. She approached him and gave him a kiss on the lips. You slowly looked away from the woman to see there was Andy Warhol inspired artwork on the walls of not only Sam's face, but Ruby's face as well. You felt your lips stretch into a small smile from what was going on. Part out of slight fear from what you were finding more out about this universe, another part from finding this situation a little funny.

“Wait,” Dean couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that his little brother and the actress who played Ruby were together. She didn’t look all that amused. “You and Ruby?”

“Do you honestly think that’s funny, Jensen?” She asked. It seemed this wasn’t the first time she heard this joke about being accidentally, or purposefully, being called by her character’s name from the look on her face. You gave her a smile when she looked in your direction.

“Right. Because you’re not Ruby. You...I mean, how could you be? You...of course, you are the lovely actress who plays Ruby. And you are in Jared’s house… because you two are…” Dean struggled to come up with a decent enough lie that sounded believable. He looked over to the mantle to see a picture of the beloved alpaca, along with a photograph of fake Ruby and Jared, happily embracing one another with a smile. You furrowed your brow when you saw she was in a wedding dress and Jared in a tux. "Married—You married fake Ruby?"

"What are you doing?" Fake Ruby asked. She obviously wasn’t believing a single word coming out of Dean’s mouth as she looked at the three of you with a bit of suspicion.

“Work.” Sam blurted out. “Work. Heh.”

“Yeah. Jensen and I wanted to stop in and say hey. Been a while since we've seen you." You spoke up. You rocked back and forth on your heels as you gave her a smile, attempting to pass off a decent lie before the boys could make even more of a complete fool out of themselves in front of her. "And maybe run some lines."

Fake Ruby raised her brow from your excuse, “You two have never even been to our house.”

"Well, now that we know there's an alpaca, we're definitely coming back." You said, nervously chuckling as you pointed a finger to the door. "Hell, I...I'll even bring Nate the next time around. You know, my fiancé. Sure he'd love seeing that thing."

“Well, alpacas are the greenest animal.” Fake Ruby said. Your lips stretched wider into a smile as you nodded your head from that useless fact you didn’t need to know. She pushed herself up to her feet as she took a seat on the arm of the leather couch. “Well, there’s that thing I have to get to. The International Otter Adoption charity dinner? Okay well,” She walked over to her husband and attempted to give him a farewell kiss for the evening. Fake Ruby found it a bit awkward when Sam tried his hardest to act normal as Dean averted his gaze while you tried to find interest in anything but the two of them. “Well, I’m glad you three are talking, anyway.”

The three of you watched as she began walking to the front door to attend her charity dinner, leaving you and the boys alone for the evening. You looked over at Sam with a small smile from what you just learned.

“You and Ruby, huh? Not bad.” You said. “I always thought you two were cute together.”

"Yeah." Sam mumbled. You could see the ends of his lips stretching into a smile, seeming happy himself at how lucky of a guy Jared was. Fancy mansion, beautiful wife. Not to mention, an alpaca as a pet. What more could a guy ask for? Sam's smile dimmed for a moment when he realized one crucial thing. "I should figure out her name."

+ + +

You and the boys found yourselves in the library part of the Padalecki mansion. Sam occupied the desk while you and Dean sat across from each other at the poker table. Searching the name of Jared’s wife was all too easy. Ruby 2.0 was played by a woman named Genevieve Cortese. Both of them were married last February. The internet was great for finding all sorts of useless information. While it was easy to find a name, what was presenting to be a challenge was trying to find a bone of a lesser saint. You weren't having any sort of luck after searching for almost an hour. It seemed it was gonna be trickier than you thought.

You let out a sigh and moved your eyes away from the laptop screen to give yourself a break Sam was diligently working at the desk, hard at work like usual. You looked away from him and to the photograph on the wall above him to see what it was. You furrowed your brow slightly to see that it was a portrait of him when he was a few years younger, dressed in a cowboy hat while riding a horse. You didn’t even want to know the origin of it. Or why someone would put that up in their study.

“‘Wrist bone of a saint and holy reliquary. Museum-quality from diocese in Oaxaca.’” Sam said. It seemed his luck was better than yours. He found exactly what all of you needed. “Seems legit.”

“All right. Auction house is in Mexico City. Could be there day after tomorrow.” Dean said. He was thinking back to his old ways as a hunter. Steal what you needed and get the job done. “We case it, yank it, be back here by the end of the week.”

“Or we could just by it.” Sam suggested.

“What?” You scoffed at his plan. You pushed yourself up to your feet to take a look at this bone. You read the price tag and let out a low whistle from how much it was. “Dude, that thing is over a hundred thousand dollars. It cost more than my house—” You were cut off when you saw Sam pull out a credit card with the shining words of platinum membership. Your lips stretched into a smirk when you realized that all of you were supposed to be actors. Rich actors. “Hello, Jared Padalecki.”

You and Sam got to work with getting ahold of the bone. It took a few phone calls and your knowledge of basic Spanish to get ahold of the artifact. Dean to work on some other things you might need when he found his wallet had turned into all cards that were waiting to be spent.

"Triple rush? No problemo because money is no—" Dean grinned as he punched in the numbers of one Jensen Ackles' credit card into the information. He hit the enter button and waited to be greeted with the news of his package being processed and delivered. Only that never happened. A small window popped up, informing him that his transaction had been declined. Dean chucked the card over his shoulder and fetched out another. "This baby is maxed."

"Wow." You mumbled. You ended the call and put the phone back on the hook. You stood there for a moment with a grin, feeling a little bit of an adrenaline rush from what you just did. You and Sam had just spent a hundred grand, just like that. No stealing, no long car rides. "They said it should be at the airport first thing in the morning."

"Money, sweetheart." Dean said with a smile of his own. "There is nothing like it."

So far, so good. You began walking back to the table where the laptop was so you could do some research for your own enjoyment. Before you even got the chance to sit down, you heard the sound of phone going off and a vibration  in your back pocket. You furrowed your brow and pulled out your phone from your pocket. You were expecting to see the same burner phone you'd been carrying around for months now. Instead it was a nifty looking, very expensive touch screen phones. You saw the contact name was "Future Hubby" with a familiar smiling face lighting up the screen.

"Crap." You muttered underneath your breath. Dean glanced up from the laptop after he finished completing his purchase to see you suddenly looked like a deer in headlights. You contemplated  on letting it go to voicemail or answer it. You weren't yourself. You inhaled a deep breath and pressed the green button on the screen. "H-Hello?"

"Well, I guess I should've taken the hint. Surprise birthdays aren't your thing." You were greeted with the slightly familiar accent of Nate, your supposed fiancé, the actor who played Josh, from over the line. You furrowed your brow slightly from how he lead the conversation with. You stayed silent for a moment longer, unsure of what to say. "I know it was Macie who tipped you off. I'm sorry, okay? Please don't give me the silent treatment, Y/F/N."

"Uh, it’s okay?” You spoke again with something that sounded right for this situation. You shrugged your shoulders when the boys looked at you with slight confusion, wondering what the conversation was about. You heard Nate let out a sigh from the other line. A second later, he asked where you were. "I'm spending some time at Jared's house with Jensen. You know, my coworkers."

“You three have never spoken a single word to each other for long as I've known you." Nate said. You heard it again, this supposed relationship with your coworkers seemed rocky. "Well, I hope you're having fun. What time are you coming home? It's getting late. And you know you have to be at the studio early tomorrow."

“Right. ‘Cause I’m an actor. And that’s what we do.” You mumbled underneath your breath. It sounded sarcastic and snarky to you, like someone who hated their job. That's how Nate took it.

"I know you don't like this season. And I know you’re still angry about having to turn down that role because the show got picked up for another season. But you're luckier than most actors to have a job for this long. And you did enjoy the show at one point.” Nate said. “Look, why don’t I come pick you up? It’s been a long day.. Nothing a long bath and a good night’s rest can’t fix for tomorrow’s trouble.”

“No, no.” You said, trying to back out of his suggestion. All of you were so close to getting the hell out of here. What you needed was to stay put for the night before going back to your own universe. “That’s okay—“

Before you could try and change his mind, you heard defeat from the dial tone, signaling the end of the conversation. You cursed underneath your breath and shoved the phone back in your pocket. Guess it was time to do a little acting of your own.

+ + +

You had never felt out of place than you did right now. You sat in the passenger side of the car that supposedly belonged to you, Nate in the driver's side as the both of you drove down the highway with the radio quietly playing. You smiled when he spoke to you and tried to give answers that sounded right. So far the only things that Nate asked you about was work. You looked out the window and watched the city of Vancouver come closer in your direction. In the matter of minutes, you and him were pulling up to a large building. You noticed that it was an apartment building, doorman and marbled lobby included.

“Wait,” You stopped Nate from unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car when you pointed to the building he parked in front of. “Is this where we live?”

"Yeah. For the past three years. Top floor. You insisted on us buying it when you saw the view of the city. And you wanted to be close to work. Since you loved your job at one point." Nate said. His lips stretched into a smile from how you were acting. "Also the house in the Hamptons, the house in L.A. and my flat in London. Also that little place in New York we were thinking about buying after the wedding’s over.”

You could feel your lips stretching into a smile at what you were being told. A sweet penthouse on the top floor, a few other properties and a sweet car like this? Jared Padalecki must have got nothing on you. The both of you stepped out of the car and headed to the revolving door. The doorman smiled and greeted you as Y/F/N when you passed by. You reminded yourself to smile and went on your way. You stepped into the elevator and watched as Nate pushed the button for the top floor and then inserted a key. You pulled out your phone went you felt it go off again.

How’s the high life treating Y/F/N Y/F/L/N?

You felt your lips stretched into a smile when you saw that it was a text from Dean, even though the contact said it was Jensen. Amazing. Someone’s got a top floor penthouse, house in the Hampton's AND L.A., along with a flat in London. I’ll meet you tomorrow at the—You were busy concentrating on composing a text to Dean, you didn't realize you were up at your level already until you heard the elevator doors open. When you glanced up for a quick moment, you found yourself doing a double take at the sight of your penthouse. All of yours to do what you wanted.

You quickly shut your mouth before you could do anything that riled suspicion. If you thought Jared Padalecki had good taste, Y/F/N's was even better. You stepped out of the elevator and into your penthouse that looked straight out of your dreams. Everything looked like a perfect mix of your taste along with a modern feel. You examined everything, from the paintings on the walls to that view of the city. There was an entire wall that was just a window, overlooking the sight of the city at night. You found yourself standing there for a moment, watching as the night unfolded beneath your feet.

In this universe, all of this was yours. And you were more than happy to stick around for a little longer to enjoy. But there was one thing that you could have done without.

“Happy birthday, love.” You found your concentration broken away from the sight when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your body from behind. You realized it was Nate. You looked down to see there was a small rectangular box. You hesitantly tried not to pull away from his embrace. Instead, you grabbed the box and opened it up. You felt yourself letting out a slight gasp at what you saw. It was a diamond necklace. Encrusted with too many to count. They shined underneath the light. "For the wedding. I know you’ve been wanting to keep with tradition. That saying—what is it. Something borrowed, something new. And I know you've been eyeing this for a while. Said it would look good with your dress."

"Oh my....this looks expensive." You found yourself blurting out the first thing that came to mind. When you realized what you just said, you felt your cheeks burn and turned around to face your supposed fiancé. “I mean, not that it’s beautiful. It is—“

It seemed your reaction was what Y/F/N would have done when Nate broke out into a smile and chucked quietly. “I know. But you only get married once." Nate said, shrugging his shoulders at what he did for his future wife. "And I wanted to do things right. Treat you like the queen that you are. Unlike what happened with your last engagement."

You looked up from the necklace from what you heard him say, "My last engagement?”

Nate's face dropped slightly when he realized what he said. He let out a sigh and winced at the sore remark that came out the wrong way. "I know you don't like talking about it. I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want what we have to disappear.” He said. You gave him a smile, as if you were reassuring him that everything was fine. That what you had with him was great. “I was gonna wait until the day of the wedding to give it to you. But when I heard you and Jensen were hanging out after shooting, I got a bit...jealous."

You refrained yourself from asking anymore questions. You shut the box and looked around the penthouse once more before back to Nate. “You know, I think I’ll take that bath now.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Nate agreed. You tried your hardest not to slap his hands away when they greedily wrapped around your hips. You pretended that he was Dean. That all of this was for the two of you. “I’ve got your favorite champagne chilling. Get yourself nice and naked and I’ll bring you a glass.”

You smiled and mumbled a thank you, watching as Nate turned around and headed for the kitchen. You tightened your grip around the box and tried to find your way around the place until you found the bathroom after you accidentally stumbled upon every other room. And you were even more impressed. You were still grinning at the sight of your walk in closet, decorated inch by inch with designer clothes and shoes that you could only dream of. Along with jewelry that sure didn’t look like costume stuff. Not to mention the wedding dress that you found hanging up. You never pictured yourself walking down the aisle, but when you laid eyes on it, you couldn’t get the image out of your head.

Soon enough, you found yourself naked as the day you were born, soaking in a tub that could fit two extra people, drinking champagne and covered neck to toe in bubbles. You were alone with the door lock, an ice bucket with an open bottle of champagne and expensive looking chocolates (a supposed gift from someone you never heard of) at your disposal. Nate said that he was going to bed, giving you some much needed privacy. With one hand holding a glass and the other your phone, you did a quick Google search before your eyes began reading the first headline that popped up.

You let out a quiet chuckle from what you read. It seemed no matter what universe you were in, you and Dean somehow found your way together. The headlines that you found were about you two being previously engaged when the once popular show "Supernatural" started. But it was you who called it off right before season two started shooting. It was only a month after that when Y/F/N started dating Nate, and a few years later, the happy couple was engaged to be married. Costars Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki not included.

You put the phone down somewhere safe and refilled your glass. When you got comfortable, you found yourself staring at the window of the city and thinking. God forbid if you and the boys were to stay in this universe, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Ditch Nate for Dean, run away together somewhere nobody knew you and put that wedding dress to good use. Of course, the possibilities of that ever happening in your universe were the chances of you owning a place like this

You let out a sigh and brought the drink back up to your mouth to take a long and much needed drink. Tonight you weren't going to play anyone. You were just another person in the billions of others that populated this universe You were going to soak in this tub for long as you wanted and enjoy yourself. Tomorrow you were going to be Y/N Y/L/N again. Like how it should be.

You lowered yourself into the tub and shut your eyes. However...Y/N Winchester did have a good ring to it. You brought up your left hand and examined the diamond engagement ring that you found sitting on the nightstand. You put it on for fun, but you found yourself staring at it, wondering what would it be like if it were on your finger all the time. How Dean would try and propose to you. All things that were a mere fantasy that came out of nowhere when you saw that dress and put on this ring you would have to return tomorrow. But it made you wonder if there would ever be a time where you and him could change things up a bit in your world.

Perhaps one day you could....maybe.

[Next Part]

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[telltheworld-phff]

Chapter 39: Privileged child

“Are you nearly done?” he groaned annoyed pushing her giant cart at IKEA.

“Nope. And why are you so moody this morning?” she asked him searching the things she had chosen to buy when she looked at the store’s website.

“Because I didn’t know no one here wouldn’t help us.” he answered.

“Oh… poor privileged child. Even I that just got here knew that one should look alone for the things inside the store and that we get just a bit of help from them. Come on, I still have to find a bed and a couch.” she said pushing him slightly and seeing the pile of things that were inside the cart and the seeing that her list was still big.

She had started with the living room, placing an order for a couch (and then changing her mind three times later) and a rug that would be delivered later. She bought cushions, lamps, side tables and more shelves to store her book collection her mom would send her. She bought some things for decorations, curtains for all the windows and a TV unity. It all came disassembled and in cardboard boxes. She then bought bathroom things she needed, a new mirror, a bath curtain and rugs and storage things.

But what bothered Harry the most is that she spent lots of time looking at all the options and then narrowing them to what fit in the space she had and in the budget she brought to buy all those things. And when she finally found something that would both fit and be affordable, she spent another half hour choosing between the color options the store offered.

“What do you think is best?” she asked him at some point. “Ash, charcoal or dark gray for the sofa’s fabric?” she lifted the samples so he could see them.

“Is there any difference between those colors?” he scratched his head. “I mean… they’re all gray and you’re getting a gray sofa.”

She took a deep breath and shook her head.

“You’re not helping, Henry. These are different colors and the sofa is the most important thing in a living room. So you should start helping me if you want to go home soon.” she said looking at him.

“So, go with the grayer gray. The darkest one.” he said smugly.

“Are you sure? You really thought this through?” she was suspicious.

“Yes. 100% sure.”

“Well… too bad I’ll go with another tone for the sofa because you clearly couldn’t choose a dark color with the other things I bought for the living room.” she rolled her eyes and disappeared on another aisle to find other colors for the same sofa she wanted to buy.

“Oh fuck me.” he whispered pushing the cart and following her.

(…)

“I think a single bed is enough.” Carol said after they had stopped for lunch and after she chose the color to paint her bedroom.

“Single bed? Why are you getting a single bed?” Harry asked confused.

“Because I probably already spent more than I should and because it’s enough.”

“Well… I’m going to be in pain after sleeping with you on a single bed. You keep moving the whole night.”

She almost closed her eyes looking at him.

“What makes you think you’d be sleeping on my bed?” she crossed her arms.

“Well… I’ll take my chances and my charm.” he shrugged smugly.

“You’re not sleeping on my bed, Henry.” she answered walking away from him to look at the options the store had.

“Well… we both know that’s a lie. So you better save money on painkillers and buy a bigger bed that’d fit us both.” he said hugging her for behind and kissing the spot behind her neck.

“Henry” she hissed. “We’re in public. Stop it!” she said but not really making an effort to get out of his hold.

“No one’s in this aisle. Relax a bit.” he said kissing it again and lingering his lips in there before letting go.

They spent hours inside the store but Carol bought everything she’d need for this new start. Some things would be delivered later and other things she and Harry took home inside the minivan he was driving today. She didn’t ask how he got a minivan, she just went with the flow. It took them long minutes to load and unload the car, and then get all the heavy and big boxes to her flat. They were both out of breath and tired, and Harry had grown even more grumpy after all the work.

“Do you know how to assemble things?” she asked him after she fixed them a sandwich in the afternoon.

“Well… never had to before, but it’s not that hard. Is it?” he said looking at her.

“Do you think so?” she was looking at all the boxes distrustfully.

“I asked Bill for a tools box and he gave me one. I think everything we need is to sort the pieces, get the instruction manual and go with the flow.”

“Ok. So let’s get to work, mister. Start with the bedroom’s furniture while I clean the kitchen.” she said smiling at him.

“You’re lucky I like you, because your bossy manner is infuriating sometimes.”

“Stop sulking Henry. We’ve got lots to do. Now you go...” she said pinching his cheeks.

Harry had brought a change of clothes and before he started assembling things, he painted her bedroom and it was faster than what she was expecting it to be. And while the walls dried, they started to open the boxes and sort the things inside of it to make the process go faster.

What Harry didn’t know was that assembling furniture was a bit harder than he thought. It took them a few mistakes to put every piece on it’s right side and when they both realized the time, it was already the middle of the night. They had assembled her bed, the side tables, her chest of drawers and the table where she’d put her girly things on. Carol spread the rugs and hung the curtains she had bought.

“Do you want to put together the living room?” he asked clearly tired but still trying to be a gentleman.

“I guess we’ve done enough for today. We better go sleep and come back tomorrow.” she said yawning.

“Oh thank Heavens.” he said.

“I can’t say thank you enough for this, Henry.” she looked at him.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, darling. Come on, I’m going to drive you to Hailey’s and go rest.” he said dressing his heavy coat and helping her with hers.

Carol spent the whole ride looking at him. Even though she often forgot, mostly because he always made her do, he was a prince. And even then, he’d spent half of his day inside a store with her, he had eaten a sandwich for a snack, and he spent more than he needed to helping her to put her home together. He’d be always willing to walk the extra mile for her. Either surprising her with amazing trips, either with phone calls or text messages in the middle of the night, or when he’d simply be by her side and making it look like he had nothing else to do, when she knew he had. But he 100% showed her that there were nowhere else he’d rather be than by her side. It all helped Carol’s heart warm up a bit that maybe, just maybe this might work. She said goodnight to him and got out of his car. When she was getting ready to go to bed she couldn't help but wish she’d be sleeping in his arms. And she knew he was just a phone call away. But it wasn’t fair to him to lit up a flame of hope she wasn’t sure she was able to keep on.

A/N: Our last chapter before Christmas. 

And I want to thank each and everyone of you who read this history and that supports me through it all. To those of you who comment and give me ideas (Bruna and Vania, you both rock while helping me get out of my writer’s block) and to those of you who don’t. Please, comment, let me know what you think, what you like and mostly what you don’t like. 

I really hope you guys have an extraordinaire Merry Christmas. See you all next Wednesday with our last chapter of the Year. 

xoxo

[vampirewalterskinner]

This is an old fic I started writing for @little-geecko a while back and never finished until now, based of of little-geecko‘s art and writing. I hope you’re okay with me writing for the au.

Petting Praise

A long yawn fell from Nanu's mouth and exposed his sharp fangs. His sensitive ears twitched at the sound of his meowth approaching, but he quickly waved them away with a flick of his tail. Normally he loved being around his pokémon, but in his current state he sometimes dreaded it. Every time he turned into this form, this tiny little meowth body with messy fur, his pokémon became insistent on grooming him. He could only handle that many sharp tongues for a brief moment. He also felt rather insulted by the fact that they seemed so eager to clean him. He didn't think he was that dirty. Nanu's eyes flickered open as he stared at his own paws. He stretched his toes under a sunbeam and watched as his claws slipped free. Tiny. He could kill a bird, easy, but forget taking down anything bigger than that.

A loud knock burst from the door and the meowth scattered in a panicked frenzy. Some ran to hide under furniture while others rushed to windows to peer outside. Nanu growled as he glared at the ones pulling at the blindes. He didn't have the money to replace them if they broke. Without warning the door flew open and bashed into the wall, causing Nanu and the other meowth to jump in surprise as a dark figure loomed in the doorway. Nanu growled as his ears laid flat against his skull. Now who in hell would be causing such a commotion?

Nanu opened his mouth to give the intruder a piece of his mind, but instead an irritated “mew!” tumbled from his tongue. Oh. Right. He couldn't speak in this form. At least, not any human language. The figure stepped forward and Nanu snarled in alarm. There was mud all over their shoes! They were going to make a huge mess!

“Old man! Yo geezer!” the young voice called out, giving a huff when he received no reply, “Where’d Nanu go? He almost never leaves this place.”

Nanu blinked. Guzma? What was he doing here? A smug grin stretched across Nanu’s lips as he snuggled back onto the couch while purring to himself. At least the boy couldn't bother him while in this form. Not that he disliked Guzma or anything. Quite the opposite. The kid could just be a handful, sometimes.

Guzma's grey eyes searched the police station before he sighed as his shoulders slumped. “I can't believe I missed him. Of all days,” the thug grumbled. He toed the door closed and shuffled over to the couch, causing Nanu to quickly lose his smug smile. Large hands reached toward him and Nanu screwed his eyes shut as he waited for Guzma's next move. Instead of being handled roughly, he was surprised when Guzma's big hands gently wrapped around his body and lifted him off the couch. Guzma took his place as he flopped down onto the cushion, slouching as he laid Nanu on his stomach.

“That guy always seems to go missing when I need him,” Guzma mumbled. His gray eyes stared at Nanu vacantly as he began to stroke the meowth’s head.

Nau stiffened at the foreign touch, but soon melted as fingers scratched the sensitive spot just behind the ears. His eyes slid closed as he pressed back into the touch, an embarrassingly loud and raspy purr vibrating through his chest. Guzma blinked at the sound before chuckling as he moved to scratch at the meowth's jaw and cheek.

“Y’know, yer a weird color for a meowth. You look more gray than the others do. Are you an old meowth?” Guzma joked.

Nanu's eyes snapped open as he growled at Guzma for the joke, then returned to enjoying the kind scritches. Nanu knew that later he’d be angry at himself for willingly letting the boy pet him like this, but that was a problem for tomorrow's Nanu.

Guzma snickered at the meowth's outburst. “Don't get mad at me, dude. You just look different. I’ve never seen a meowth with red eyes either. Although...they look kinda familiar,” Guzma mused. Without warning, Guzma took hold of Nanu's face with both hands and brought him close to peer into his eyes. Nanu's heart stilled from the close proximity. Guzma's young and handsome face drew far too close as he searched Nanu's eyes, making him fear that Guzma had figured everything out.

“Huh. I dunno why I find them so familiar. Weird,” Guzma said as he pulled back and released the meowth.

Relief washed through Nanu's small body as he laid down on the thug’s stomach, but it was short lived.

“Oh wait! Nanu! That's it!” Guzma cheered as he pulled Nanu close once more, “Your eyes remind me of Nanu’s! That's why I recognize them. They look just like his.”

Nanu grew nervous as he looked every other direction that didn't involve Guzma's nosey gaze.

“Your eyes are real pretty, just like his.”

Nanu blinked and stared at Guzma in shock. Surely the boy was messing with him. He had to have figured out his identity and was picking on him, right?

“No matter what kind of deadpan look the old man pulls, his eyes always have this kind of fire burning in them. They're just so vibrant and alive. Oh man, when he gets cocky, those eyes just light up like a burning star. They're amazing. I ain't never seen anyone have eyes quite like his,” Guzma murmured.

The kid liked his eyes? That was...surprisingly nice? Most people were freaked out by the red color. He's never had someone compliment them before. He hadn't even known the kid really liked anything about him.

Guzma's large hand stroked Nanu’s small back as he smiled softly. “I bet you like living here don't you, little buddy? Nanu takes good care of his pokémon,” Guzma said. His smile soon faltered and shifted into a frown, “He’s not exactly good at taking care of himself, though. He’s been looking a bit too thin lately. I hope he's not starving himself.”

Nanu was blown away. Guzma had noticed that? How could he even tell? No one else had noticed, not even Hala who he's known for years.

“Well, it’s not like I have room to talk,” Guzma said as he pulled his hand away from Nanu to examine the deep gashes on his knuckles, “Plums said I was lucky I didn't break my fingers from the last tantrum. To be honest, though, it wouldn't have been the first time they broke.”

So, the boy’s been losing his temper again. It had been a while since the last incident. Nanu thought Guzma had finally moved past it. A stupid assumption, of course. Anger management issues don't magically disappear, and he doubted Guzma would be the type to confront and fix his problems. Perhaps that’s why the boy was looking for him?

Silence overtook the atmosphere. The only sounds audible were of Guzma’s breathing, his hand stroking Nanu’s fur, and the embarrassingly loud purr rattling in the kahuna’s chest. It was a peaceful moment. A strange occasion for sure. Nanu wasn’t sure he had ever seen the boisterous young man every keep his mouth shut for more than a second. He had always wondered why the boy fought of silence with tooth and nail. The kahuna always figured it was for appearance, a persona the boy carried around to protect himself. Nanu could understand why. He was one of the few who knew about Guzma’s rocky childhood. A chuckle rolled from Guzma’s throat and pulled Nanu from his thoughts.

“You’re an affectionate little dude, aren’t you?” Guzma teased.

Nanu’s ears flattened as he watched the boy puff out his lips as his voice took on an annoying babying tone. Good lord. Why do people talk to felines like that? He hoped he never sounded like that when he spoke to his meowth.

A wide grin suddenly spread across Guzma’s face as he giggled, literally giggled, and a small cheerful blush dusted his cheeks. “Okay, your kneading is really cute and all, but those claws are sharp and the hurt and tickle at the same time,” Guzma snickered into his hand.

What in the world was he talking--oh good lord he was kneading the boy’s stomach. Nanu watched, horrified at himself, as his paws flexed and clenched over and over again on Guzma’s stomach. Well, this was highly embarrassing. He hadn’t even realized that he was doing it.

“O-okay, you seriously gotta stop, man. That tickles way too much,” Guzma laughed. His large hands wrapped around Nanu’s tiny body once more and pulled him up to lay the meowth on his chest as he sank deeper into the couch. “I bet you’re Nanu’s favorite. You’re pretty fun, and braver than the other cats. They’re all hiding,” Guzma mused.

I’m far from my own favorite; Nanu scoffed to himself.

Another wave of silence rolled through. This one lasted long enough that Nanu felt himself drifting off while curled up on Guzma’s chest. He found himself oddly comforted by the sound of the boy’s strong and steady heartbeat. Just as Nanu’s eyes slide closed and sleep began to overtake him, Guzma’s quiet voice pulled him back to reality.

“You mind if I tell you a secret?” Guzma whispered.

Nanu’s ears twitched in interest, but he refused to acknowledge the man. It wouldn’t be right for him to hear Guzma’s secret, whatever it may be. The boy had no idea who he really was. He thought he was just a meowth. Nanu really didn’t want to invade his personal life. Mostly because he hoped Guzma would treat him with the same respect, although this event has shown that Guzma holds no such values.

Long fingers massaged over Nanu’s head and firmly scratched down his back as Guzma muttered a confession, “I really like Nanu.”

Nanu’s ears stood tall and flicked towards Guzma, but he still refused to turn towards him. He really shouldn’t be hearing this. That didn’t stop the thousands of questions that ran through his head, nor the way his heart raced in his chest.

“I mean, I like him, like him. I-it’s not love or anything, I mean I don’t even know him well enough for that kind of thing...but, I think I might have, I dunno, a crush on him?” Guzma mumbled as a blush dusted his cheeks, “I dunno why. I mean he’s a nice guy and all, even under all that gruff ‘I don’t want to be here’ exterior he’s actually a really nice dude. Also, he’s a strong pokemon trainer, so y’know, it would make sense that I’d like that. He’s older than me and a kahuna and a cop, which are two things a guy like me is supposed to avoid at all costs but...he’s interesting. And one of the few people who treats me with respect that’s not based in fear.”

This can’t be happening. He had to be dreaming. A really fucking weird dream. He had to get out of here. Nanu stood up to leave, but was suddenly halted by Guzma’s massive hands pinning him to his lap and stroking his fur anxiously. “I know it’s stupid. Nanu would never like a guy like me anyways,” Guzma sighed.

Nanu released a short mew, and for once was glad that he couldn’t speak in this form. If he could, Guzma would have heard Nanu say very clearly, “You’re wrong.”

Nanu’s gut suddenly began to twist and bubble, causing panic to race through Nanu’s veins. Shit. Nanu struggled in Guzma’s grip as smoke poured from his grey fur, but Guzma didn’t release him.

“What the fuck?” Guzma yelped in alarm.

With a booming pop the room exploded with smoke. Guzma and nanu coughed in unison as the air slowly began to clear. Their eyes met and horror reflected on both of their faces. Guzma’s eyes widened, his face burning a brilliant red as a very human and very real Nanu now sat in his lap.

Guzma ripped his hands away from Nanu’s hips as his neck and ears began to turn pink. “What the hell!”

Nanu sat paralyzed, stricken with terror as Guzma continued to stare at him.

Oh, fuck.

[thewanderingknight]

Honor & Thieves

“So, that was Drake, huh?” Jeff gestured toward the wooden doors that Nate and Chloe just walked through.

“Yep, that’s him,” Elena replied flatly. Jeff chuckled and shook his head as he sat down and adjusted the camera. Elena paced the corridor, playing with her pencil and notepad. “Hey, who do you think that woman is?” But Jeff continued fiddling with the equipment.

“Y’know, after what you told me, I thought he’d be taller,” Jeff cast his eyes up with a sly smile. She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t. Don’t start.”

“What!” His goofy smile expanded.

At least this time alone gave her a break from the awkward tension. Of course she would run into her ex in the middle of a war zone. The guy was a walking danger magnet. Of course. And Jeff…Jeff was nice, but maybe that was the problem. Maybe that’s all he was.

“What are we doing waiting around for them, anyway? We have our own story to find. Elena…” His jovial smile hardened when he realized she was rooting herself where she stood. He made for the door. She could see his eyes pleading, but she still had work to do. Truths to uncover. A war criminal to take down. “Are you serious? Elena, what is it about this guy? I thought—“

“He’s tied up with Zoran, Jeff. Honestly I’m not that surprised, but if we stick with him long enough, maybe it’ll provide a better angle on the story.”

“We have press passes, we’ve been getting along fine on our own so far.”

“Nate has a knack for getting himself into sticky situations…” She trailed off, knowing it was a weak excuse. She had just told Nate what Jeff was preaching to her now, but how could she just disappear? It’s not like Nate didn’t pull that same magic trick. It was too much of something. Seeing him here, in war-torn Nepal of all places with that woman, with Jeff, chasing after Lazarevic. It had to be something important, which she knew was a funny idea. “We’ll be safer with them, I think,” she finally stated. “Safety in numbers, right?” She paused. “Jeff I-” He started to shake his head seriously this time. “We both know Lazarevic doesn’t discriminate whoever happens to be in his path.”

“And Drake?”

“What about him?”

“Exactly! What about him!” Jeff blurted as Elena shushed him, eyeing the door to the courtyard outside. “What is it about him, anyway?” Secretly, she knew Jeff meant something selfish to her. In the littlest possible ways, he reminded her of Nate. Like light flickering through overhead leaves, small movements here and there. She knew it was wrong. But he was nice. Tall. Strong. Attentive. He stuck around.

A slam beyond the door stopped Elena before she could reply. They both ran to the door. Jeff pushed it open. “It’s raining,” he whispered. Elena’s hand moved down to her pistol. “I think I see – oh no. We should move.” They hurried through the door. He ushered Elena to the edge of the large staircase where they knelt beside a pillar.

“Hey,” she nudged him. “There’s a door over there.” She nodded to the far side of the courtyard. Elena lithely jumped down the ledge and scurried to a spot behind the large team of mercenaries starting to lurk up the staircase. “Oh shit, we gotta do something, they’re headed inside and Nate’s gonna run right into them.”

“Do what?” Jeff exasperated, as Elena shakily loaded her pistol and peaked over the top of their cover. “Oh, what about this?” He reached for an oil lantern and handed it to her.

“That’ll work,” she smiled at him, and then tossed the lantern in a clean arc where it landed near a barrel and an explosion of fire caught a few mercenaries in the maelstrom. “Shit, get down!” she pushed Jeff down and blindly fired a few rounds. Her arms felt strained from the kickback of the pistol. She reloaded, trying to steady herself as Jeff was hunched besides her covering his ears from the surge of gunfire. A blinking red grenade thudded to the ground a few feet away. There was a lurch in her stomach as Jeff sprang forward, grabbed the grenade and stood up to throw it back. The grenade had just left his fingertips when he looked like he had suddenly been pushed back. He fell to his knees and curiously checked his torso. He pulled his hand away to reveal blood on his palm.

“Oh.”

“Jeff!” Elena pulled him back under cover and flinched as the grenade exploded. Her hands shook as she tried to keep pressure on the wound. “Shit…”

“I’m…okay. Okay.”

“Jeff. Just. Just stay still…C’mon Nate, where are you?”

**********

Elena stomped down the iron staircase, almost daring the stairs beneath her to fall away. It wasn’t that she didn’t listen, he just couldn’t keep up with her when she had set her mind to help him rescue the woman who just had them both at gunpoint.

Her feet pounded the stairs and began to throb a little from all the force. She stopped, feeling like she forgot something, but she didn’t. Jeff wasn’t in her shadow anymore. She couldn’t stop, not to tremble and cry, or mourn. She pushed past it. Not now. Don’t stop now. She flew down the last flight of stairs, rushing with momentum and anger that before she could stop to assess the railyard she leaped over the railing and silently took down a patrolling mercenary.

“I will bet my next paycheck that Nate is going to find a way to mess this up.” She whispered aloud. “And now, I’m talking to myself. Perfect.” After searching the mercenary for a set of keys, she made her way to a row of 4x4s, sticking to the side of large cargo crates. She darted to the nearest one, hopped in and fussed with the keys for a moment. The ignition whined while Elena encouraged it with the accelerator. “C’mon, c’mon please.” In the distance, she heard the wicked whirr of a GAU-19 and the explosion of a grenade. “Oh, Nate! Come on! Don’t do this, come on, come on...” She turned the key again and slammed on the accelerator, and the 4x4 bolted to life. “Yes!” She exalted as she gained control and barreled toward the commotion. A few of Zoran’s men were closing in on a fallen train car. She slammed on the brakes and shouted, “Get in!”

**********

He always seemed to be just out of reach. She saw him look back just as the train was rounding the corner, heading up into the mountains. She stretched her arm up and waved at him, hoping he would see her one last time, but the train disappeared, and he was gone.

Elena sat there for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel. The sounds of the forest began to magnify as the adrenaline faded away. Birds clattering, the distant train horn, the jarring vibrations of the idling jeep she could feel through her hands on the steering wheel.

She muttered to herself, “Okay, Nate’s got something to do, what do I do? Go after him? Ha, of course; of course I would go after him.” What else could she do? The camera…Jeff…were all but abandoned. She almost wanted to reprimand herself for helping him get on that train in the first place. Why should she help him? But she knew why. She had work to do. A few phone calls. Pack some things, and go. She pulled back on the shift gear and the car thrust into reverse and she followed the road back into the city.

*********

“Oh, man..!” Elena flung open the door of the jeep and raced to the edge of the cliff, slowly edging closer to lean over the expansive scene below. Not even the fallen snow could cover the broken skeleton of the train. The brilliant blue sky stretched over the impressive mountain range of the Himalayas. They stood confident and stoic, white with lazy scratches of gray stone throughout their bodies. Elena felt that they leaned in over her as she slid down toward the wreckage, hoping for any sign of Nate. She rubbed her hands together as she trudged through the snow. She couldn’t spend all day looking for him here, not that she was being particularly optimistic. She let out a hesitant call of his name. The wind whistled in reply through the sharp edges of the wreckage. She looked back up at the jeep parked at the edge she had just climbed down. If the train crashed here, there’s no way he could have gone forward. She decided to retrace the surrounding area for anything. A refueling village, a route to the Annapurna circuit, anything. That’s what Nate would do.

She crawled back up the ledge and leaned heavily against the jeep, letting the intake of air steady her. What was she supposed to do if she didn’t find him? Don’t cross that bridge. Her body froze for a moment. She could still feel the mountains on her back. She stood up, let out a controlled sigh and swiftly moved to the driver’s seat. “I can do this,” she announced to the jeep, and guided it back onto the road that ran parallel with the train tracks, again not knowing what to expect when it came to Nate, but refusing to rule anything out.

Before long, she spotted a stupa. The jeep turned onto the semi-hidden path marked by the tall structure, rumbling as it took Elena farther up the mountain pass. The sun was lower in the pink sky. She would have to find shelter soon, but the potential danger edged her on. She needed to find Nate, now. She took the jeep as far as the winding path would go. Colorful prayer flags whipped in the wind above her, sounding like the beating of helicopter wings. She left the jeep and hurried up the path on foot, practically racing until she reached sturdy square gates of the village. When a farmer approached her, it took her a moment to switch to Tibetan and stutter, “Um…have you seen a man? Tall, with brown hair? A foreigner?”

“Yes, the chief found him amongst the wreckage in the mountains.”

“Can you show me where?” She blurted this out all too quickly in English, and had to repeat herself again in Tibetan. The farmer pointed at Tenzin who was already waving her up the hill.

“He’s in here, come see,” Tenzin pushed the door open, revealing a cozy living space made of ramshackle furniture. Nathan lay on a cot in the corner, the slanting sun shining orange over his bloodstained shirt.

Tenzin left the room as Elena rushed to the cot. “Nate –“ she fretted over him as he lay still, first gently shaking his shoulders, then holding his face in her hands, his stubble scratching her fingertips, until she settled on gripping his hands in hers. “I hope this wasn’t ‘Plan D,” she choked out a laugh that bit back tears. But his chest lifted slightly. He was alive.

She settled back into a chair by the cot. It was so much easier for her to look at him this way. Without the danger of catching his gaze, without having to sneak glances between looking at him and Chloe. Then again, where was the fun in that? The small, selfish fun in making sure he knew that she was looking. Now, she could go over the lines on his face again and again. His face was pale, his hands loose in her own. A feeling of wooziness slithered through her body just looking at the injuries he accumulated, but she stretched out her fingers and balled them up to push past the feeling.

“Tenzin tells me he should wake within the next few days,” Shaefer stood close to the doorway. Elena jumped up, moving to stand in front of Nate. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Shaefer, Karl Shaefer,” he extended his hand.

Elena took it. “Elena Fisher,” she replied, “And, this is Nathan Drake.”

“Quite a story your friend will have when he awakes, heh?” Tenzin marched passed Schaefer and shooed Elena as he pulled back the blanket revealing the wound on Nate’s side. Elena pressed her hands to her forehead when she saw the blood, and Scheafer escorted her out of the house and up the hill, passing the business of village life. “Let me ask you something, Ms. Fisher. Do you know what this is?” He had removed a black cloth from beneath his robes, and unfolded it to reveal the Phurba dagger, ornamented with symbols and demonic faces.

“Nate had that,” She slowly confessed, “He said he was using it to help him find something called the Chintamani Stone.” Schaefer raised his eyebrows. “But Lazerevic. He took it from him. And, well, I’m not quite sure what happened. I’m just glad I found him. He’s lucky to have ended up here.”

“He’s lucky in more ways than one, I assure you, Ms. Fisher.” Schaefer led her up the stairs of the last house in the village. “Tell me something, are you a student of history?”

---

That night Elena stood at the edge of the village, overlooking the mass darkness that covered the world. Not knowing what was out there, with a blanket of stars above, she felt very small. Everything seemed so far away. A wind picked up the wisps of her hair. Her breath billowed in the cold air. Then, something occurred to her. She picked up a lantern, a lone, orange light that solemnly moved through the village and carefully made her way to the jeep that remained sitting on the trail. She searched in the back and grabbed the emergency bag. Once she had made her way back to Schaefer's house, she dug around until she pulled out a dull yellow satellite phone. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment, trying to remember the number. She let out a sigh and let the phone ring. “Hey, Sully. Yeah, I’m glad I called, too. You’re not going to believe what he’s done this time.”

---

In the morning, Tenzin shooed Elena away so he could redress Nate’s bandages. Elena wandered around the village, too restless to sit and wait. A yak huffed to her side, and she stopped when she saw a little girl awkwardly and hesitantly trying to reach for its face. She walked over and kneeled next to her. “Hey, what’s the matter?” The little girl pointed at a doll that was lying between the yak’s front hooves, explaining that he yanked it out of her hand while she was giving him his hay. Elena reached forward and patted the ox’s broad forehead, feeling his warm, wiry hair and quickly grabbed the doll. She handed it back to the girl who hugged it to her chest.

“I’m Pema.”

“Elena.”

“How did you get here? Who is that man, do you know him? He’s funny, isn’t he?” Pema began to ramble with questions and took Elena by the hand and led her into the house.

Elena sat and talked with Pema, all the while keeping the thought of Nate finally waking in the back of her mind. So when he finally strolled into the house, it caught her by total surprise. It was one of those moment where, it wasn’t that she hadn’t thought it through. She just kept thinking of that moment in only one way, so she was off guard when it happened in a way she didn’t expect. She was prepared, but not like this. She was not prepared to hurl herself into the distance between them and wrap her arms around him

[imjustthemechanic]

The Stone Knight

Part 1/? - Two Statues Part 2/? - A Curious Interview Part 3/? - John Doe Part 4/? - Escape Attempt Part 5/? - Making the News Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - More Impossible Part 8/? - The Shield Thieves Part 9/? - Reality Sinks In Part 10/? - Preparing a Quest Part 11/? - The Marvelous History of Sir Stephen Part 12/? - Uninvited Guests Part 13/? - So That’s What It Does Part 14/? - The What and the Where Part 15/? - Gearing Up Part 16/? - Just Passing Through Part 17/? - Dinner with Druids Part 18/? - Kracness Henge Part 19/? - A Task Interrupted Part 20/? - The Red Death Part 21/? - Aphelion Part 22/? - The Stone Giants Part 23/? - Nat the Giant Killer Part 24/? - An Interrogation Part 25/? - Guilt Part 26/? - Rushman’s Brilliant Idea Part 27/? - Hunter in Hiding

Our heroes drop in on their friendly neighbourhood cryptozoologist, who shares an embarrassing secret.  Oh, and I tell you where the Grail is, because that was mean.

           As they headed south again, under heavy gray skies that threatened rain but never actually delivered on it, Natasha found herself thinking about several different things.  The first, of course, was the urgency of finding O’Herlihy.  It was reassuring that Sharon had another theory, but the only way to know for sure was to go there, and Nat had an awful mental picture of breaking into the man’s room in the Glenmoriston Arms and finding nothing but another smear of blood.  Even if the Red Death hadn’t gotten there ahead of them, he was probably still on his way, and he had an entire secret society behind him while they were just five random people.

           She also thought about Allen Rushman.  He was going to have to stay with them for the time being, and that was okay as long as they were just visiting libraries, doing Google searches, and driving across the country.  What would happen, though, if things came to a fight again?  Nat had little doubt they would, and when it happened, Allen would be worse than useless.  Somehow, he was going to have to be kept safe.  Like any other predator, the Red Death would go after the weakest member of the herd.

           Mostly, however, she thought about her theory. It was only a theory at this point – it had popped into her head at the same moment as the shock that seemed to signify the activation of a Grail fragment, but beyond that there wasn’t a lot to support it.  It was based on an awful lot of assumptions, none of which she had any evidence for.  She hoped she wasn’t just making it up.

           Her theory was that since William the Conqueror must have known about the Grail, he would almost certainly have gone looking for it himself.  Maybe that was even part of the reason he’d had the Domesday Book put together.  An inventory of the entire country would be a great way to get started.  If he’d found it, like Sir Galahad he would have learned that it wasn’t nearly as nice an object as the King Arthur stories would have had him believe.  He’d therefore taken steps to prevent another man like the Red Death trying to get a hold of it, by wiping out any evidence that it had ever existed.

           In the fantasy world this had all happened in, that would be the reason the Grail and the Red Death weren’t mentioned by the chroniclers or recorded in the artworks – the Conqueror hadn’t allowed it. Maybe that was even the reason in the real world.  Who the hell would be able to tell after a thousand years? All historians had was the word of their predecessors, and chroniclers were notorious for ‘improving’ their stories or leaving out the parts that didn’t contribute to the axe they wanted to grind. The Goo-Goo Dolls had a song about that, didn’t they?  All we are is what we’re told, and most of that’s been lies.

           When he’d found the Grail, whether it was on Flotta or somewhere else, William would have moved it.  He would want it someplace where he could keep an eye on it, but nobody else could get at it or stumble across it by accident – so he’d built something to protect it.  Something that, in his world, could never be dug up or knocked down.  Something he would have an excuse for setting his best soldiers to guard, without having to tell them what they were really guarding. A stronghold so secure his descendants would use it as mint, palace, prison, and treasure house, because it was impossible to break in or out.

           The Grail was under the Tower of London.

           At least, that was the theory.  It made internal sense, but Nat wasn’t sure how well it meshed with the outside world, or exactly what aspects of it counted as truth or fantasy.  Was it her lie about knowing the answer that had come true, thus placing information in her brain about something that was already true?  Or was the theory a lie she had told herself, which had then come true when she believed it would come true?  Would somebody searching there a month ago have found anything unusual, or had this whole thing sprung to life as part of Pierce’s thing with the statues?  As with the problem of O’Herlihy, there was only one way to know, and that was to go there and see.

           Part of Natasha hoped they arrived and found nothing at all.  Then they’d know that the Holy Grail didn’t exist and never had, and while that would mean this had all been a colossal waste of time, at least the world would still operate by rules Natasha understood.

           They arrived back in Inverness to find it crammed to overflowing with tourists.  Word of the Monster had gotten around quickly, and scientists, media, and interested laypeople from all over the world had converged on the city to see for themselves.  There was not a hotel room, parking spot, or restaurant table to be had in the entire town, and the Ness Bridge was lined on both sides with people holding binoculars, just waiting for one of the creatures to rear its head.

           Things were fortunately quieter in the suburbs where the police station was.  The storage room where Zola had broken in and Lipcomb had been killed was still roped off with yellow tape, but the police were beginning to get back into their routine. Sharon headed inside, and asked for the chief.

          ��Chief Fraser was an overweight man with a bushy red and gray mustache, the one who’d shouted at everybody to get back to work when he found them standing around staring at the mess Zola had made of their locker room.  He arrived panting for breath, having evidently run from wherever he’d been.

           “Carter!” he exclaimed.  “I was just wondering what happened to you!  Where have you been?”

           “Flotta,” Sharon replied.  “I was…”

           “Flotta?  What, with the giants on fire and the Ebola?”  The man went white and took a step back from her.  “I thought you were working on the Pierce case!”

           “I am working on the Pierce case,” said Sharon.  “Alexander Pierce is dead.  He was murdered by a man called Johann Totenkopf, who threw him out of a helicopter. It’s going to be a hell of a report when I get around to writing it.  Before I do that, though, I’m pretty sure the next guy on Totenkopf’s hitlist is Darren O’Herlihy.”

           “The previous victim’s brother,” said Chief Fraser.

           “Yes!” said Sharon – Nat might not know yet about her theory, but Sharon was clearly delighted that hers was correct.  “Please tell me you’ve got him in protective custody!”

           Nat glanced around the room, worried.  Zola could be here right now, listening… he could well have been with them all the way from Galltair, in the trunk of the car or something.  There was no sign of him, but how could they tell for sure?

           “He asked for protection,” the Chief agreed. “He said he’d gotten threats from the guy who killed his brother.  We’ve got him in a hotel in…”

           “Ah!  Ah!” Sharon put a hand over his mouth. “Just… don’t tell us out loud. Don’t tell us at all.  Take us to him, but don’t say the name of the place. Walls have ears, okay?”

           Chief Fraser stared at her a moment and gently reached up and took her hand from his mouth, but he didn’t continue his sentence. He just said, “what’s going on?”

           “It’s… let’s just say it’s a conspiracy,” Sharon decided.

           “What kind of conspiracy?  Are we talking about a three-blokes-get-together-to-murder-the-fourth type of conspiracy?  Or a the-queen-is-a-lizard-alien type of conspiracy?”

           “I’ll tell you all about it when the case is closed,” Sharon promised.  “Right now, just trust me, this is really important.”

           The Chief nodded slowly, and pointed a finger at the people behind her.  “Who are they?”

           “Experts,” said Sharon.

           “Experts?” he echoed.

           “Yes,” said Sharon.  “Dr. Rushman is the archaeologist Mr. Pierce had consulted about this statues.  Sir Stephen is an authority on the folklore they were based on.  Dr. Wilson is helping me look into the, uh, Ebola thing, and Mr. Rushman here is…” she spent a moment trying to figure out what his role could be, then gave up.  “He’s Dr. Rushman’s father.  We’ve got to talk to O’Herlihy.  At least, four fifths of us need to talk to O’Herlihy.”

           “All right.”  The Chief sighed.  “I trust you, Carter.”

           “Thanks,” said Sharon.  “That means a lot.”

           He shook his head.  “Lord knows nobody else seems to know what’s going on.”

             The police had put Darren O’Herlihy up at the Mercure Inverness Hotel, which Nat thought was an awfully nice place to be in protective custody.  It had five-star dining, a pool, and free wi-fi – the last time Nat had been in protective custody, it had been in a cell in Siberia with only one tiny space heater for her and four other girls.  O’Herlihy wasn’t enjoying any of his luxuries, though.  He was in his suite with the door locked and the curtains drawn, while two policemen stood guard at his door and another smoked on the balcony. There was a very unseasonable ivy Christmas wreath hanging on the door.

           Sharon showed the two cops her badge, then knocked on the door.  “Mr. O’Herlihy!  I’m Detective Inspector Sharon Carter!  I’m looking into your brother’s case.  May I come in?”

           There was the sound of furniture being moved and a latch being turned, and then the door opened as far as the chain lock would let it.  One terrified blue eye, bloodshot with lack of sleep, peeked out.

           “Hi.”  Sharon tried to smile warmly.

           “You were in the helicopter,” said O’Herlihy.

           Natasha was surprised he remembered – he must have been really angry with them for stealing his thunder.

           “Yes, that’s right,” Sharon said.  “It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?  I just need to ask you something.”

           Nat pulled the two pendants out of her purse again and held them where he could see them.  The round one Sir Stephen had been carrying now had the red gems missing, too, which she decided to take for a good sign.  “Your brother gave you something like this, right?” she asked.

           O’Herlihy slammed the door again.

           Sharon gently pushed Nat’s hand down, then knocked again.  “Mr. O’Herlihy, this is important!” she said.  “We need to know anything you can tell us about those pendants!”

           The door opened again and O’Herlihy’s hand came out, dangling another cross-shaped token on a broken silver chain.  This one was also bereft of its red decoration, if it had ever had any.

           “Take it,” he said.  “I don’t want it anymore.”

           Nat would have done so, but Sharon stopped her again.  “Where did your brother get that pendant, Mr. O’Herlihy?  He had more, right?  What did he do with them.”

           “Just take it,” O’Herlihy pleaded.  “I think it’s bad luck.  It gave me a zap a while back, and since then I lost my monster, my brother was murdered, and some little goblin went through my stuff.  It’s half the reason I’m hiding in here, please take it away.”

           Sharon took the pendant from his hand, then caught his wrist to keep him from closing the door.  “Wait.  Tell me about the goblin.”

           O’Herlihy didn’t answer at first.  “If I tell you, will you take it away?”

           “Yes,” said Sharon.  “I’ll lock it away where you’ll never have to see it again.”

           The man took a deep breath.  “Mick called me the night before… the night before they killed him.  He said there’d been this critter watching him, like a little old man the size of a child. It woke him up in the middle of the night to ask what he’d done with the charms.  I figured he dreamed it.  I didn’t notice that I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days because I was busy with my monster, but when I came back to town to get more gear, I found my flat all torn apart, and there’s this little man, just like Mick described him.  He disappeared right in front of me, and an hour later the cops showed up and told me Mick’s blood is all over the floor in some warehouse.  Whatever those things are, I figure they’ve gotta belong to the Little People.  That’s why I’ve got the ivy on the door.  Grammy always said it kept the fairies out.”

           Under the circumstances, that didn’t seem like a bad idea, Nat thought.  They were dealing with creatures from folklore.  Maybe folklore could tell them how to fight back.  Although they might have better luck if they didn’t use plastic ivy.

           “Did the creature ask you about the pendants?” asked Sharon.

           “It ripped that one off my neck,” O’Herlihy said. “Then it threw it away and said it was spent, and vanished.  There were a bunch of them originally but I don’t know what Mick did with them.  He probably old them on eBay, and I don’t have his password so I can’t check.”

           “What was his username?” asked Nat.  If she had that, she could get into his account easily.

           O’Herlihy didn’t answer.

           “Did you know it?” Sharon asked.

           “Yeah.”  O’Herlihy looked embarrassed.  “It was Stud-Mick-Muffin,” he said, and shut the door.

           Nat kept her face carefully straight.  “All right,” she said.  “I’m gonna need some equipment, but I can get the names of the buyers.”  And if she ever needed an eBay account, she’d remember to pick a username she wouldn’t mind seeing on her tombstone.