#this was prompted by the possibility of a volunteer opportunity in a state far far away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolveria · 3 years

Text

Inside Your Wires - Ch 7

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You try to smooth relations between you and Detective Anderson, made difficult when the human wants nothing to do with you.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet

You allowed the glass door to swing quietly shut behind you, smoothing your tie as you followed at a polite distance on the detective’s heels. The hunch of his shoulders was interpreted by your social module as a sign of discomfort and tension.

You were given several options on how to approach the human, even one suggesting taking several minutes before engaging him in conversation, but your mission prompt wouldn’t allow you to have that flexibility.

[EARN DET. ANDERSON’S TRUST]

Standing directly next to his desk, you appraised the human’s belongings, noting all of the items you had scanned upon your arrival. The human had an assortment of items, including an ancient mp3 player [Zune, manufactured 2008], a work cell phone, a bonsai tree [Japanese maple, dying], and several personal photos printed out and taped to his display board.

They were of different places and at different times, going by the various types of clothing, but they consisted of mostly the same subjects. Three men wearing nearly identical faces that only android software could differentiate between, and an older man catalogued as Captain Hank Anderson. He was marked as the adoptive father of the triplets.

Even though you had done it several times before, you scanned the detective’s features. His identifying information displayed on your HUD, further settling in your memory banks each time you did it.

DET. ANDERSON, CONNOR

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Detective

Criminal record: [Sealed Juvenile Records]

You blinked and the identifying information disappeared, leaving you to fully observe the detective where he sat, hunched over his terminal with a scowl on his face.

“I know the situation is not ideal,” you began in your most diplomatic tone, “but I look forward to working with a law enforcement officer of your caliber."

The human gave no indication he heard you, but his heart rate increased by a small percentage, and his fingers pressed down on his flat keyboard in a way that was counteractive to typing.

You were prompted with more dialogue options, and once again went with the friendliest approach.

“It seems we will be working together for some time, so perhaps it would be beneficial to get to know one another.”

The human remained reticent, glaring at the terminal screen as if it were angering him personally. The detective also narrowed his eyes, indicating an intense dislike, but remained silent on the state of his emotions.

Your gaze drifted down to the empty mug of coffee next to the withering bonsai tree.

[ESTABLISH RAPPORT WITH DET. ANDERSON]

“What are you doing?”

You tilted your head, freezing your motor functions when the question was asked, putting you in the position of half-bending over the detective’s desk. You had blocked his terminal with your body as you attempted to reach his coffee cup, and he now stared at you from inches away with a wide, startled expression.

“Sorry, Detective. I thought you might like a refill.”

You had received a helpful notification that caffeine withdrawal can result in headache and irritation, both of which you had identified in the detective’s tense expression.

“Okay, fine, could you just—“ He released a puff of air, fluttering the loose lock of hair that strategically fell to the side of your face. “—hurry up so you’re not in my goddamn lap?”

You weren’t in his lap, or even in the relative vicinity of his groin. It would have been more accurate to say you were closest to his face and hands, the latter of which had been rapidly retracted when the front of your chassis had brushed against them.

You also noted the rise in temperature of his skin, the pink hue across his cheeks, and the dilation of his pupils—all indications of arousal and attraction. These were common occurrences with your model design, and you dismissed the pop-up that asked if you wished to run the sexual subroutine. Such programs were low priority and only used as a last result if the detective were uncooperative with the investigation.

“Sorry, Detective,” you repeated, forming your lips into the approximation of a warm smile. “I’ll return shortly.”

You carefully picked up the mug and moved into a standing position, and the detective released a long exhale, avoiding meeting your eye as he turned back to his terminal.

Satisfied in your endeavor, you crossed the short distance to the station breakroom.

Two humans resided inside, leaning against an elevated circular table as they spoke. Both turned their heads to stare, and you took the opportunity to scan them.

CPL. LEE, HELEN

Born: 05/19/2005 // Police Corporal

Criminal record: None

LT. ANDERSON, COLIN

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Lieutenant

Criminal record: [Expunged Juvenile Records]

You blinked away the notifications and gave them a non-threatening smile before turning to the coffee machine. It was a large unit, meant for offices with frequent foot traffic, and a brief scan indicated it was overdue for a cleaning.

You weighed the negatives against the benefits of obtaining a beverage from this machine, and determined it was worth the possible contamination risk.

Placing the mug underneath the drip dispenser, you pushed the appropriate buttons after determining the detective’s preferred blend with a quick swipe of your fingers to the interior of the cup and placing them on your tongue.

There was a noise from behind, a slight huff of air and the soft pad of rubber soles against linoleum. One pair vacated the breakroom, and the other approached and stopped at your back.

“Connor done having his temper tantrum yet?”

You turned to face the lieutenant, examining his features and finding open curiosity. He stayed a polite distance away, unlike earlier, when he had stood so close that you had been forced to take a seat at the detective’s desk.

You wondered now if you should have tolerated the lieutenant’s close proximity, since occupying the detective’s chair had seemed to upset him.

“Must be bad if he’s already sent you to fetch his coffee,” he added with a nod to the mug sitting on the drainage tray. “Usually, he waits a day or two before terrorizing the rookies.”

“I volunteered,” you hurried to say, not wanting a ranking officer to get the wrong idea about the detective. “I believe it will be an appropriate icebreaker for our new partnership.”

“That so? Pretty sophisticated for an android, and terribly hopeful.” He canted his head to the side. “You got some kind of human instruction manual inside that processor of yours?”

The lieutenant dropped his gaze down your body, lingering in a way it had done many times before. The evidence of his attraction was even more obvious than the detective’s, but your sexual subroutines had never been activated by his interest before. You were assigned to Det. Anderson’s charge, and therefore, it would serve no purpose to offer your additional features to the lieutenant.

“In essence,” you answered, passive but friendly enough not to antagonize. “My human relations program assists in easing the interaction between CyberLife androids and humans.”

“I see.”

He moved closer, face neutral but his eyes highly observant. He reached out and took your tie, tugging it upwards. The tie clip stopped him from lifting it far, but the lieutenant seemed satisfied with letting the fabric run through his fingers.

“What else can your human relations program do?”

The tone of his question was easy enough to decipher, your program indicating the query was of a sexual nature.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Lieutenant,” you said. “Only Detective Anderson has access to my specialized subroutines.”

The fingers threading your tie went still. The open curiosity vanished from the lieutenant’s face, replaced by a calculating appraisal.

“Well, then. My brother’s a lucky guy.”

His lips pulled into a languid smile that didn’t match the tightness around his eyes.

You carefully pulled your tie from his lax fingers, once again giving him a non-threatening expression.

“The coffee’s done brewing. I must get back to the detective now.”

Turning back to the coffee machine, you kept a significant number of your processors focused on the sound of Lt. Anderson’s heartbeat and breathing, even sampling the micro sensors on your skin.

He remained at a close distance, though by the time you turned around with mug in hand, all you could see of him was his retreating back as he went around the corner down the hallway. From your downloaded schematics of the building, you knew the most likely route he was taking was either to the unisex bathrooms or the station gym.

Your statistical readouts stated the chance the lieutenant would try to engage in sexual activity with you at some point was at approximately 35.2%, and you tasked your processors with running the probability in the background. It was important that erratic human behavior didn’t interfere with your investigation.

“Have a nice chat with my brother?” the detective asked, tone flat as he stared at his monitor.

You filed away possible tension between the two siblings to observe further. You placed the mug next to his keyboard, this time on the side nearest you so you would not lean over and agitate the human again.

“It was informative,” you simply said, straightening into a standing position once more.

The detective gave a huff through his nose and muttered, “I’ll bet.” His eyes narrowed, and after seven seconds of glaring at his terminal, he locked on your face in irritation.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” you said, letting a friendly smile appear. “I would like to know where I can access the DPD’s database. I wish to review the case files.”

The skin around the human’s nose crinkled. He seemed to hold some kind of internal conflict before he sighed and indicated the desk connected with his own.

“Belonged to my last partner. You can use it. For now.” He emphasized the words, as if you had possibly forgotten the temporary nature of your partnership.

“Thank you,” you said with a small nod. The detective rolled his eyes and turned back to his terminal, seemingly already having forgotten you.

You knew he hadn’t. Every observant sensor of your body informed you of his continued wariness, even while his eyes were mostly focused on the glass screen in front of him, he was constantly tuned to your presence.

By the time you had sat down in the chair of the empty desk, you had already pulled up in the DPD database to discover what had become of the detective’s last partner.

Sheila Pernell, also a detective, had transferred to another precinct months earlier, citing the difficult nature of working with Anderson and his unpleasant personality. The language she had used had been colorful and extremely unprofessional.

You made another note in your background processes: Detective Connor Anderson displays hostility toward work partners and colleagues. Difficult to connect with others on an interpersonal level. Approach and adapt to antisocial tendencies as needed.

You turned toward the terminal and placed the fingers of your right hand on the keyboard, allowing your synthetic skin to pull make to interface with the device. Connecting to the network and pulling up the cases assigned to Det. Anderson, you downloaded all 243 into your memory bank.

Hoping to prompt a conversation with the detective, you turned toward him from your chair, slightly tilting your head as you analyzed his tense posture. It hadn’t relaxed at all within the past two minutes since your last interaction.

“There are two hundred and forty-three cases dating back to February of this year, many of them originating in Detroit. An AX400 abducted a young girl from her home last night. I thought that might be a good place to start. It’s flagged as the most urgent case due to it being a crime against a minor.”

Your social module had indicated bringing up the danger to a child would have prompted some kind of response, but the detective remained fixedly silent, leaning the side of his jaw against his propped knuckles.

A more drastic approach was needed. You stood, walked around the joined desk, and approached the detective as he made a noise and turned away.

Coming to a stop directly next to his chair, you adopted the understanding demeanor, hoping to placate the detective’s agitation.

“I understand this isn’t an ideal situation, Detective, but perhaps it would be best to set aside your personal issues, and—“

“Excuse me?” the detective snapped, glaring at you out of the side of his eye. “Were you just about to suggest how I do my job? Because if so, I advise you to shut the hell up. You’re not my boss, and you’re definitely not my partner, so perhaps it would be best if you fucked off and didn’t come back.”

He turned away again and picked up his tablet as he pretended you were no longer standing there.

You plucked the device out of his hand, ignored the surprised noise he made, and placed your other palm between his shoulder blades to establish a physical connection he couldn’t ignore.

“I’m investigating these cases whether you like it or not, Detective.” You leaned closer, speaking directly next to his ear so as not to be overheard. “If you continue to refuse to cooperate, then I’ll find someone else who will be more amenable to my presence.”

For the span of two seconds, the detective remained completely frozen. And then he abruptly stood, grabbed you by the jacket, and swung you around. Your back slammed against the glass partition with a solid thud.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he growled, inches from your face. “I don’t care how many Barbie dolls CyberLife sends to the station. If you keep mouthing off to me, I’ll shoot you myself and throw you in the dumpster. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly,” you calmly answered, which served to only agitate the detective further.

His brows creased as his hands tightened around the edges of your jacket. The human was stronger than his wiry frame gave him credit for as he managed to hold you between himself and the glass, your toes brushing the ground but unable to find purchase.

You remained silent, returning his glare with a bland, pleasant expression despite the discomfort traveling your circuits. If the detective was going to continue to be a problem, you would need to report his behavior, and that might further delay the investigation.

Trying to adapt to his psychology was proving fruitless, and it was clear you had underestimated just how socially challenged he was. Perhaps seeking a new partner was the right course of action after all.

Elijah had stated that if the detective became too much of an issue, his brother would be a suitable replacement. But when you thought of the lieutenant, the idea of working with the human was…

Unpleasant.

You studied the human’s face, searching those dark brown eyes, but found no acceptance there. You were going to have to work harder to—

“Detective, uh… sorry to bother you…”

At the sound of the timid voice, the detective released your jacket and allowed you to stand on firm ground. He didn’t turn to look at the officer standing behind him, however, and continued to level a glare at you, effectively penning you in so you couldn’t step around him.

“What is it, Ralph.”

“It’s about the AX400? The one who kidnapped the little girl? Someone just called in on the APB, said they saw it in the Ravendale district.” He paused, wide hazel eyes darting between you and the detective’s rigid back. “If you need me to bring this to the lieutenant—“

“I’ll handle it,” he said, the heated glare finally pulled off you when he turned and walked away.

Adjusting your jacket of its newly acquired wrinkles, you took a moment to process the detective’s unstable and problematic behavior, and quickly followed before the detective left the station without you.

Next Chapter

#human!connor x reader #connor x reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x android!reader #reverse au #dbh #my writing #my fanfiction

107 notes · View notes

worldburnrp · 3 years

Photo

“It was a maddening image —

Little by little, the rooftop space filled up with guests. It’s impossible for a rum-sponsored party not to turn lively; and certainly, it has. While some are happy with their drinks and stay in the venue, drinking and dancing their spirits away — others choose to venture out, either returning to their rooms or getting lost in the maze that are the corridors of The Mark hotel.

In either case, the night is light and young, and there’s not a worry in their minds.

Little do they know however, that in the shadows, the Syndicate awaits.

— and the only way to whip it was to hang on until dusk —

Although the night had been planned to exhaustion, it’d been all but a coincidence that the operation had fallen on the same date as the party launch. It’s a blessing, at the same time that it’s a curse; more people circulating the area isn’t ideal — but a sea of potential issues isn’t so much so, if they’re impaired to begin with.

130 million dollars, gone up in flames. But they ought to make their money back, somehow.

So here the Syndicate hides, and at around 10:30, they strike. Swift and professional as ever, they go completely unnoticed — and they will take all that they can.

A highly effective heist, right under their noses. Those 130 million earned back in just a night.

No wild cards, no action that isn’t necessary, were the instructions given. Money, jewelry, art, anything of true value — that’s what they’re after. Designed as a victimless crime as far as bloodshed goes, the Syndicate still accounts for all. No issue, lest you get in their way.

— and banish the ghosts with rum.”

Unfortunately however, some unlucky few have. As instructed, should anyone be a concern, be it that they’re found in their rooms or other areas in the midst of the operation — they should be neutralized, by whatever means necessary. All with still keeping their anonymity, and succeeding at their tasks.

The pairs that have crossed paths are:

Ludovica Malatesta and Rus Ralston

Nora Vidal and Lee Malkovich

Zafar and Mathias Cain

Vir Zafar and Ibrahim Ziani

Abel Rousseau and Nik Erykssen

Oliver Wright and Jin Yoo

Tima El-Masri and Audra Smythe-Priestley

Avi Grover and Samar Burman

Max Szczesny and Enzo Principe

Karolina Erykssen and Samar Burman

OOC Info:

Part Two out of Three.

Part two will run for a few days, to allow for everyone to comfortably write their interactions in time; an update will be made both on the blog and discord for subsequent parts.

There is no requirement that people drop previous event threads set during Part 1 — but we encourage everyone to prioritize Part 2. This can be either through new fresh threads, or shifting your Part 1 thread into Part 2.

For characters not involved in the conflict, there are no restrictions to replying to starters (or continuing things) from Part 1, unless they were posted by someone, or are written with someone involved in the conflict. In that case, those starters may no longer be replied to. You’re also free to start any new things with other non-conflict characters as you wish.

If you wish to have any injuries (be them major or minor) or heavy impacting plots happen involving your character, please contact the admins so we can include it into the narrative.

Those in the conflict are encouraged to come up with scenarios where, mid-robbery, one would have the other held hostage. Be it at a hotel room, in some hidden office, or anywhere that is far from view and where there would be plenty to steal. They’re on a mission, after all. As always, if you have trouble coming up with ideas, the admins are always willing to help.

At the end of this post, we offer challenges to the guests. However, those are simply suggested interactions — and even if you choose to write it, your character is not limited to just writing those.

SYNDICATE CHARACTERS:

[ ALL SYNDICATE MEMBERS ARE WEARING NEUTRAL BLACK CLOTHING AND MASKS. IF THEIR CLOTHES WEREN’T NEUTRAL AT THE PARTY, THEN AT THIS POINT THEY WOULD HAVE CHANGED. NOTHING ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE (THAT THEY CAN CONTROL) SHOULD BE RECOGNIZABLE. EVEN IF ENCOUNTERING SOMEONE THEY HAVE MET BEFORE, THEY ARE TOLD TO KEEP THEIR IDENTITIES SECRET TO THE BEST OF THEIR ABILITIES. ]

For Syndicate members especially, Part 2 should be prioritized so that plots can flow easily.

If you have Part 1 threads, we won’t ask that you drop them, but that you work your way into finishing them — with your characters, above all, keeping in mind that they have a job to do. It might be a night of fun for everyone else, but not them.

From now on, you can only interact with other Syndicate members, or the character you were paired with.

You can write as many mid-robbery threads with your fellow Syndicate members as your heart desires. Interactions amongst them are allowed, and absolutely encouraged!

As far as the rest of the party goes, you may only interact with the character yours was paired with, as one is the other’s hostage.

Your character should be focused in the robbery itself and collecting valuable goods. Anyone they’ve encountered is damage control.

Important: this is meant to be an incredibly secretive and smooth operation. Get in, get out, without causing disturbance. The main party should not have any inkling or knowledge that this is happening.

POINTS AND CHALLENGES:

Syndicate members and conflict volunteers will each earn 20 points for writing their paired threads. (It doesn’t matter if one character ‘wrote’ the starter; both members will be awarded points.)

All remaining characters will earn 20 points for completing the challenges prompted below. They are not mandatory, but we will reward you if you choose to go forth with them.

The points above will be awarded at the end of the event, to account for any starters going unanswered or quickly dropped, as we wish to be as fair as possible.

Surprise! We’re also rewarding conflict volunteers with 30 points for being wonderful team players and allowing us to use their characters for this plot. We adore you and appreciate you, so here’s a small gesture to reflect that!

CHALLENGES:

Jennifer Callaghan recognizes Izaak Walker from his internet presence, and attempts to strike an interview, or even a comment. Izaak knows it’s unadvisable to go forth with it, given all the rum ingested tonight.

Andrea Galán has been avoiding Aaron Keaton, until they cross paths. There’s an inkling or knowledge of her involvement with crime, and tensions rise.

Gideon Hayes is spotted by an off duty Joaquim Borges whilst trying to deal — be it to a random guest, or worst yet, the very detective himself.

Danvir Persaud thinks he recognizes Laith Hassan, from briefly crossing paths in the law-and-lawful world. There’s no reason for a sketch artist and a lawyer to engage however, until now — that they’re both trying to get a vending machine to work.

Renata Cervantes-Müller and Úrsula Villa are both powerful women in their own right — except that they share far different ideals, and defend different people. It’s been easy to avoid one another thus far, until the elevator doors fail, locking them in.

A dentist and the state’s most prominent politician walk into a... bathroom. It’s a classic, slightly awkward, run-in. Except this time, it involves Nicholas Bergeron — and Julian Berkeley.

Jakob Cervantes-Müller is a busy man, and the things keeping him busy aren’t the kindest. For prevention (and future endeavors), he needs a lawyer — and he’s heard Adam Starke is one of the best. What a coincidence, that their drinks just got mixed up at the bar.

Constance Romero, the Cartel’s informant manager, is always on the lookout for future contacts. Like some other select people, she’d heard of Lev Movska’s defection from The Brotherhood — and hell if she isn’t going to try and get all of that knowledge into archive for them. The enemy of my enemy, as they say.

With too much rum in their system, Lola Villarin and Diego Romero end up wandering — testing every other room for unlocked doors. Eventually, they make it into a suite; it’s all fun and games, until the lock won’t allow them back out.

Hazel Arthur and Ryan Fitzgerald barely look at each other, when touching up their make-up in the lobby’s bathroom. But they have to acknowledge each other’s presence when they realize they’re locked in — and Hazel hasn’t heard back from her partner in far too long.

They’d both had the same idea — the hotel’s fire escape as the perfect spot for a smoke break. Hans Starke and Zuleika Sandoval are now forced to share the space (that both claim to have found first).

Bob Bekker and Aera Paek, different positions at different publications. One man with success in his horizon, and a woman who can grant anyone it. It’s a throw-away conversation until the words fact checker come to rise. The best paper, after all, is the most accurate one — would this man do her the favor of failing, in exchange for a brighter future?

Araceli Aguilar suddenly stops Heather Hyeon Seo in the middle of the lobby, with an unwarranted prediction of her future. Even if Heather doesn’t believe in it, it’s intriguing enough that she must hear more.

Rahi Kumar is well known for his love of the sky, preferring to gaze upwards towards the heavens; it is this exact preference, that sends him careening into Andel Kenza, who scurries away from a main party room, clutching what appears to be an empty bottle of rum, a strange substance congealed on its base. The pair stare at another another - a stalemate.

Erin Katz was never a woman to wait for opportunity to simply knock on her door - she prefers to kick it in herself, a stiletto crashing through wooden panels. JJ Baptiste is a man who can make or break you in this city, and with the intriguing wallet she’s just found on the floor, she thinks she’s got enough leverage to earn his ear as he lords over a table in the back of the bar.

Moon Subin is currently scouting the media world, looking for new voices to either support his agenda in the press — or to simply gain insight. It’s unclear which Maureen Keaton could be, yet... but it’s worth a try.

FINAL NOTES

1 — If by any chance your pairing partner, or your challenge partner doesn’t get back to you — please contact the main page and we will rearrange things so that you may still write it! No one will be left without some event fun, we promise.

2 — If you’ve missed the window to volunteer your character for conflict, or you have joined recently and didn’t know about it, you can shoot the main page a message and we will do our very best to include you into the action. Only main page messages, please — as Discord will be hard to keep track of.

3 — As always, the admins are only a message away should you have any questions.

Part 2 interactions are now open. Have fun!

#wb.event #event.hotel #oc rp #crime rp #worldburnrp

16 notes · View notes

imhereformr · 3 years

Note

Prompt 9 for tecmy? 🥰

9: There's only one bed and we sleep as far away from each other as possible but wake up cuddling

There were supposed to be two beds. How hard was it to make sure there were two beds? Tecna wouldn’t consider herself a normally violent person, but she had half a mind to beat whoever had messed up senseless. It took a minute before she remembered that Musa had been the one to make the reservations and the realization that Musa had likely messed up on purpose hit her hard – like she would possibly do to Musa.

She and Timmy had been sent to Oppositus on a scouting mission to see the state of the realm after Valtor’s attack and to figure out what they could about the attack and Valtor. When the girls had learned Timmy would be the only specialist going, they’d instantly and mercilessly volunteered Tecna to go with him. Honestly, Tecna was happy to go – she and Timmy were a couple, after all, and it was a great opportunity to spend some time together – but this single bed scenario was too far out of her comfort zone. They’d hadn’t kissed that much; they were nowhere near sharing a bed.

“Well, looks like they don’t have any other rooms available” Timmy announced as he entered the hotel room. “Apparently a lot of homes were destroyed, and people have been staying in hotels.”

Tecna nodded silently, running her hands over her thighs nervously. Timmy took a seat on the plush bed beside her and stopped her hands from rubbing through her pants. Once he was certain she wouldn’t inadvertently start a fire, he laid back on the bed, stretching his arms out into the down comforter. At least Musa had had the foresight to get a double bed and book them in a nice hotel instead of a cheap motel. That didn’t mean Tecna would forgive her though.

“I think there’s a sleeping bag in the ship” Timmy told her, sitting back up beside her. “I can sleep on the floor while we’re here.”

“We’re here for two nights, Timmy. I don’t want you to be tired and uncomfortable because of me.”

Timmy shrugged and gave her a soft laugh that made her heart bounce out of her chest. “I’ve slept in more uncomfortable places than a hotel room floor. I don’t mind.”

Tecna was about to object, but the redhead was out of the room and on his way to the ship they’d parked out front that took up much more than their allotted single parking space before she could speak. He returned five minutes later with a blue bag the colour of the Red Fountain uniform rolled under his arm. His head swiveled trying to figure out where to set up before he accepted that the only spot was beside the bed; the room was nice, but it was far from big.

Once the sleeping bag was unrolled, Timmy came to the unfortunate realization that he would not be able to sleep in it. “This must be the one Brandon accidentally spilled coffee on during our last mission... I guess he forgot to get it cleaned...”

“It’s okay, Timmy. We can share the bed.”

“Are you sure?” He looked up at Tecna, who wore an inscrutable expression. He knew Tecna had boundaries and that she took time to open up to certain things. Besides their first kiss after their time in the resort realm, they’d only kissed a handful of times and Tecna was only now beginning to initiate them. This would be beyond her comfort zone; he had no doubts about that, and the very last thing he wanted to do was pressure her.

Tecna insisted it was fine and abruptly announced that she was going to get ready for bed before Timmy could argue or she could change her mind. She wasn’t convinced that it was a good idea, but it was the only option besides Timmy sleeping on the floor – which she refused to let happen. As she brushed her teeth, Tecna tried to rationalise that it would be fine; it was a big bed, there was plenty of space for both of them.

When she exited, Timmy was already in his pajamas. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed under him, snacking on a donut hole. He offered her one, but she refused, citing her freshly brushed teeth. Timmy brushed his own teeth and the two of them settled into the bed. As if sensing her discomfort, Timmy kept himself on the far side of the bed. If he moved anymore, Tecna worried that he might fall off the edge. She worried she might fall of the bed as she herself was also precariously close to the edge of the bed.

It took Tecna close to two hours to fall asleep. She was too distracted by her pounding heart, Timmy’s light snores and the heat that she could feel radiating off of him. Eventually, somewhere close to 1am, she drifted off to sleep.

When the alarm they’d set the night before rang, Timmy grabbed the phone from the bedside table and turned it off without ever opening his eyes - a bad habit he’d developed during his first year at Red Fountain when they’d been forced to get up at 4:30 for drills. He returned his arm to its previous placement and was surprised to find that the torso wasn’t his. He finally opened his eyes, and was even more surprised to find Tecna’s head on his chest. The fairy was mumbling something about telling Musa to turn her music off. Most shocking, however, was that he was still near the edge of the bed and Tecna had scooted across the king-sized mattress to him.

Timmy considered waking her, but he was very much enjoying the proximity. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, he told himself as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. He hooked his arms around her and nestled in closer.

When Tecna woke half an hour later, she was a combination of shocked and embarrassed. The proximity, however, was nowhere near as uncomfortable as she feared it would be. In fact, it was nice. Really nice. Nice enough that once she’d gotten over the shock, she laid her head back on his chest and threw her arm over his body. Maybe she could understand why the other girls loved cuddling with their boyfriends so much.

Eventually they’d had to get out of bed to work on their mission, but when they went to bed that second night, there made no pretense of trying to staying apart. They laid in the middle of the bed with Tecna’s head on Timmy’s chest and his arms wrapped around her. The couple fell asleep almost instantly and remained curled up together until the next morning. The next evening when they’d get back to Alfea, Musa would ask how everything went and Tecna would have forgotten all about her desire to assault the musical fairy. Instead, she’d give Musa no satisfaction, just a quick ‘fine’ and an enigmatic smile.

#winx club #winx #winx tecna #winx techna #winx timmy #tecmy #prompts #winx fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #tecna x timmy #timmy x tecna

31 notes · View notes

ofstoriesandstardust · 3 years

Text

The 5 Times Luther Thinks He’s in Love With You (and the one time he actually does something about it)

A/N: I’ve never written for Luther before but I am full on simping for this man. I know he’s kinda hated in the fandom so we’ll see if this fares better then my Diego piece. No, I still haven’t finished season 2 yet. If I were to spend as much time watching TUA as I did reading and writing fan fiction about it, I would’ve finished weeks ago. This might be super out of character for Luther so hopefully this doesn’t suck. It also ended up being way longer then I had intended and is officially the longest thing I’ve ever written. I think it starts out mediocre and ends strong so there’s that.

masterlist | prompt list

warnings: takes place post-season 2 but my own version again, Ben came back to life again because I said so, my trauma, canon childhood abuse, trauma, and reference to drugs, swearing,

word count: 6,438

i. the time you treat his siblings like your own

The first time Luther thinks he might be in love with you is the day Klaus gets out of rehab...again. Over the last year, the Hargreeves clan has worked hard to get Klaus clean and sober, and Ben coming back to life was a big push for Klaus to get help. Unfortunately, it’s been more downs than it had been ups. As a survivor of childhood abuse yourself, you had told Luther it would take time for the mental scars their father left behind to heal and Klaus was no exception. Still, Luther had thought the process would go a little bit smoother than it had, and it killed him to watch his brother relapse again and again, and the toll it took on Diego and Ben every time he did. However, they thought this time might be different. Klaus had made a lot of progress during this last stint in rehab, progress he hadn’t made before. You coming into the Hargreeves family and becoming a rock to the siblings had brought a lot unexpected comfort to Klaus, that someone outside the family cared for him and his well-being. It had been a push he needed, and you really believed he’d stay clean this time.

Diego and Ben had volunteered to pick the seance up from rehab, with the other siblings arriving at your apartment to create some sort of semblance of a ‘welcome home’ party. You had volunteered to watch Klaus the next few weeks, knowing the Academy was no place for him to be. How could he stay sober living on the streets or at the home of all his abuse? And seeing as you didn’t drink, there was no alcohol for Klaus to even access if he wanted to. Luther had been adamant you didn’t need to go out of your way to make a space for Klaus but you had over ruled him with the support of Ben and Diego and the decision was made whether Luther liked it or not.

Over the course of the last year or so, you had sort of tumbled into his life, crashing straight into Luther one morning as he was leaving Griddy’s. It had snowed the night before, and the street was icy, and the next thing he knew, someone had walked straight into his large frame and was tumbling towards the ground. Luther reached out, large hands wrapping around your much smaller frame, and hoisting you back up before you could hit the ground. He awkwardly cleared his throat and put you back down on the ground. “Sorry about that.” He mumbled, overwhelmed by the fact that he had stupidly almost sent the pretty girl crash-landing to the ground.

“It was my fault, really. Shoulda been looking were I was going.” You said. Fate, however had other plans, when Ben came along the road. You turned to greet him, and his eyes drifted from you to Luther. He stopped next to you and a shit-eating smirk grew on his face. “Well, (Y/N), it looks like you’ve met my brother Luther. Luther, this is my co-worker (Y/N).” Luther had a moment of realization, understanding he had knocked into Ben’s favorite co-worker at the bookstore/cafe he talked so much about. Ben invited Luther back inside to Griddy’s as the two of you got breakfast before your shift and Luther agreed, not having a much better plan. Allison was in Manhattan with Vanya, Klaus was doing a stint in rehab, Diego was working at the gym, and Five was off god-knows-where doing god-knows-what. The breakfast was quite enjoyable, Luther observing your comfortable energy and your kind nature. You had offered your number to Luther before parting with Ben, in case “he ever needed a friend”. It wasn’t long after that, that the family had had a tumble towards rock-bottom as Klaus got out of rehab, immediately seeking the nearest drug he could get his hands on. Ben had asked you to come over and the support you offered the family through your experiences with an alcoholic mother and comfort had irrevocably changed your position and meaning to the family and to Luther. While Luther had always felt you were closest to him, the closest thing he had to a best friend, he couldn’t unsee the way you joked with Klaus, the support you offered Diego, the witty banter you’d exchange with Five, the conversations you’d have with Allison, the encouragement you offered Vanya, and the normalcy you brought Ben. He always thought that you liked them a little bit better, but every time, you were able to read that he was too far into his self-doubt, and assured him that he was and would always be your best friend.

This time was no different. As Klaus returned to the apartment and was practically glued to your side, he felt that small piece of him rile up again, making him want to shrink to the background. As the night wore on, he felt himself retreat further and further behind the walls in which he had put up. He had hoped to get a moment alone with you, which didn’t seem promising. But luck was on his side, and an opportunity arose, which came in the form of a Mario-Kart tournament. You excused yourself and Luther from the first few rounds, asking for his help with the dishes. He felt confused, as you always stated doing the dishes helped you focus and relax. You turned the water on, beginning to wash dishes and handing them to him to dry. He did so, in silence for a few minutes, but not a bad one. “You know that Klaus staying doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?” you said quietly, as to not let the Hargreeves overhear your discussion of one of his biggest insecurities. He nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” he said in a gruff voice, looking out over the city from your window, avoiding looking at you.

“Luther.” You said sternly and he chanced a glance at you. “You know I love your family like my own siblings and you know I would do anything for them.” He felt his stomach beginning to sink as he waited for the other shoe to drop that would never come. “But, you, you’re my best friend in the entire world. Nobody’ll ever come close.” You said, nudging his shoulder and turning back to the dishes. He looked down at you, and looked at the way your face was lit up by the light of the moon, and he looked back up the moon to where he spent so many years in isolation, hoping one day he’d get to meet someone like you. He was starting to think that he didn’t want to be just best friends anymore... and that thought scared him almost more than anything.

ii. the time he can’t imagine his life without you

The thought that does scare him more than anything is the thought of losing you. It’s never been a thought he’s allowed to stay in his mind long; shuddering away from the thought of losing you to the cold clutches of death, the way he lost Ben, the way he had thought he lost Five. Unfortunately, he is forced to confront the thought one night. Diego shows up the Academy, clutching you in his arms, cuts and bruises littering your frame. Luther is the only home at the time, everyone else either gone, living their lives or in the case of Five, at Griddy’s. Diego sets you down in a chair and with the exception of the minor physical harm and the fact that you can’t seem to stop shaking, you seem to be alright. “I’ll explain in a minute. Where’s Mom?” Diego asks quietly. This seems to snap Luther out of his state of shock, that if Diego thought your injuries might be bad enough to have Mom look over them, he needs to present and here.

“Diego, I told you-” you winced, a movement neither Hargreeves boy missed, “I’m fine.”

“Even still, Mom should check you out anyways. I think she’s upstairs. Do you want me to go get her?” Luther said softly. Diego shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll go grab her. You stay with (Y/N).” Luther nodded and took a tentative seat next to you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms and quell all your fear and make you forget all this pain and-

“Oh, (Y/N), darling.” Mom’s soft voice reaches his ears. She checked you over, determining that all the injuries you sustained were minor and would heal within the next few days.

“See, Diego. I told you I was fine.” You snapped, as Mom put a kettle on the stove to make tea for the three of you.

“What even happened, (Y/N/N)?” Luther asked softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, almost missing the way you leaned into his touch. Diego sighed and pinched the bridge of his noise.

“I was wondering the same thing myself.” He grumbled.

“It was just some creepy guy. I was fine.” The tension in the room is so thick one Diego’s knives could cut through it as the implications of what your sentence meant settled. A endless train of possibilities of what ifs fly through Luther’s brain that he almost misses what happens next.

“Fine?!” Diego asks incredulous. “Fine?! (Y/N), he had a knife-”

“I had it handled!” You said indignantly.

“You could have been killed!” Diego shouts, and the silence that follows is undeniably terrifying for all three of you. You looked to Luther, who must’ve looked like a fish out of water, gaping at you, struggling to come to terms with what Diego had just said.

“I might not be a superhero, but I can take care of myself.” You said, voice soft now, not making eye contact with either boy. Luther looks at Diego, who is clearly ready to make another argument and Luther finds the fear growing inside of him at an alarming rate. Luther stands up abruptly, his chair toppling over behind him.

“(Y/N), you could have died.” Luther says, now growing concerned regarding your apparent lack of concern for your well-being. The fear and panic spreading through his body seems ice-cold and the thought that Diego could have brought your lifeless corpse back to the Academy instead is rooting him to his now standing position. You look up at him.

“Okay, well I didn’t. I’m fine and here to live another day. Nothing worse then any thing you guys have done, and besides-”

“(Y/N), I could have lost you!” Luther yells, surprising all three of you. You look up at him. “After losing Ben, after losing Five, after everything that’s happened-” Luther goes quiet, choking on words he isn’t sure he means. I’m in love with you. I can’t do this without you. “I can’t lose you too.” His voice is soft and you look away from him, biting your lip.

“I’m sorry, okay? My co-worker called out, I didn’t think anything would happen. I've walked home a million times after closing, it’s never been an issue. I thought I had the situation under control.” You refuse to make eye contact with either boy, glaring a hole into the table. The silence remains for a while longer and Diego eventually excuses himself, saying you’ll finish the discussion in the morning. Mom put your tea down on the table, and you startle, seemingly forgetting the AI was still there. She leaves you and Luther alone in the kitchen with a gentle smile. Your hands are still trembling as your hands wrap around the cup, and Luther almost takes one of them in his own, but decides against it.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He says, softly. You look over at him, if for only a moment. He needs to start sorting of these thoughts of love he has towards you, but for right now, he’s just glad you’re still with him.

iii. the time Diego teases him

A month or so passes between that night and the next time Luther is forced to confront his foreign feelings for you. It’s early one morning and the eldest Hargreeves boys are sitting in a comfortable silence as Grace walks around the kitchen making breakfast. Diego is the first to break the silence. “So, Luther,” he begins, a shit-eating smirk upon his face, not unlike the one Ben wore the day you and Luther met. Luther stiffens, concerned about whatever is about to come out of his brother’s mouth. As good as their relationship has been since Texas, Luther can’t help but feel like there will always be a sort of unspoken tension between the two of them that will never truly go away, residual feelings of competition leftover from their childhood. “When are you going to tell her?” Luther stares at Diego, utterly confused about what the boy might be asking.

“Tell who what?” Luther asks, which in response, prompts Diego to roll his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb. I see how you look at her. When are you going to tell her?” Diego says, smirking. “C’mon, you can tell me. This is a safe space.”

“Tell who- Allison?” Luther blurts the name out, the only girl he can think of that Diego might be referring too. Diego startles at the name-drop of their sister.

“What- no, not Allison!” Diego splutters. “Jeez, you really have no idea who I’m talking about, do you?” Luther shakes his head. “I’m talking about (Y/N).” Luther relaxes at the sound of your name and sinks back into his chair, but he’s still concerned about what Diego thinks he needs to tell you.

“What am I supposed to be telling her?” Luther asks to which Diego shoots him a look. Luther finally understands, at least, he thinks he does. “I’m not telling her about my... condition.” Luther says, the word feeling weird on his tongue. It’s an open secret the family never speaks about, sensing Luther’s insecurities.

“That’s not- she doesn’t know?!” Diego asks, incredulously.

“Not unless one of you told her.” Luther says, anger growing in him at the thought of one of his siblings going behind his back and telling you, his closest friend, his deepest secret and biggest insecurity. He doesn’t need you to look at him the way his siblings do, with pity.

“Luther- Luther you have to tell her.” Diego says, his voice firm. “She has a right to know.” Luther casts a dark look at his younger brother.

“Right to know what? Right to know how Dad mutilated my body?! Right to know that no one will ever love me because of it?!” Luther asks, the anger (and fear) seeping into his tone. Diego sits back in his chair, not breaking eye contact with the blond boy. The quiet in the kitchen settles as Grace put the plates down in front of them but unlike before, this one isn’t comfortable. It’s awkward and there’s strong emotion radiating off of the two boys.

“Thanks, Mom.” Diego says quietly, but Luther doesn’t say anything, not trusting his voice. “I was actually going to ask when you were going to tell the poor girl you’re in love with her.” Diego says, beginning to cut up the pancake on his plate. Luther startles and his eyes widen, looking back up from his food to face Diego.

“I don’t-” Now it’s Luthers turn to splutter through his words, struggling to form a cohesive sentence.

“You do, Luther, you sooo do.” Diego responds, the shit-eating grin returning to his face. Luther just stares at Diego. “I see the way you look at her. The way you drop everything to be near her, the stupid little smile you get whenever someone talks about her or she comes over, I see it.” Luther shrugs, feeling like he’s wading through concrete, trying to form a sentence in response to Diego’s too accurate statement.

“She’s our best friend.” Luther says, shrugging with a fake nonchalant attitude. The word friend feels foreign ion his tongue and wishes he could use something else that would more accurately describe his feelings for you.

“Sure, but I’d be concerned if Ben started looking at her the way you do.” Luther stares at Diego, the confusion returning. “Your face lights up whenever you see her.” Luther remains dumbfounded and quiet, sensing Diego had a point he wanted to get to. “I’m not the only one who thinks it either. We all see it. Sure, she’s our best friend and like a sister to us, but you, you’re in love with the girl.” Diego must take Luther’s silence as a reason to continue, because Diego puts his fork down and looks at Luther seriously. “I only bring all of this up because- well, if you don’t tell her soon, she won’t- won't stick around forever.”

At Diego’s words, it feels as if someone has dropped a rock in Luther’s stomach and he thinks he might be sick. The thought of you leaving- “She’s a patient person, but she’s not going to wait forever for you to figure out your feelings. So if you are in love with her, and I know that you are, you need to tell her- tell her everything.” Diego stresses the last word and Luther gathers that he means his condition as well. Luther wants to shove his plate away, walk away from Diego, and lay in his bed for the rest of the day, pretending that he hadn’t been forced to confront these feelings he isn’t ready to have for you.

Instead he mumbles out a “She’ll hate me.” Diego sighs.

“She won't hate you. I’m pretty sure she feels the same way but you’d have to ask Vanya or Ben for that answer, Lord knows she confides in them more than me.” Luther looks back up at Diego. “Besides, even if she doesn’t feel the same way, she won’t hate you.”

“But it will change things.”

“Sometimes change can be a good thing.”

“Not in this family.” Luther mutters as Five makes an appearance, the blue light startling Diego. The conversation gets left there but Luther can’t help but mull over Diego’s words, wondering if he’s right.

iiii. the time you have a fight

You and Luther’s friendship has been struggling, he knows it just as well as you do. Ever since his conversation with Diego, Luther has been pulling into himself, retreating further and further away from you. He’s not being a good friend, he knows that, and you deserve better, and he knows that too. Still, he can’t help but feel like the only way he’ll get over his feelings is by not being around, positive he won’t ever tell you that he thinks he might be in love with you. He knows there’s no way you're in love with him too. He’s ended up at your apartment tonight, returning a book Five had borrowed. Why he couldn’t return it himself, he wasn’t sure but Five had told he owed him one after “saving his sorry ass through two apocalypses”. Now that he was here though, he thinks it was just a ploy to get him here. Even still, when you invite him in, he can’t bring himself to say no to you. The pair of you stand in the kitchen in total quiet, the distance between the too of you feeling much more like a gaping chasm than the four feet. “What did I do?” You ask, arms folded across your chest, almost like your protecting yourself from him. Luther looks up at you. “Did I do something wrong?” A pause. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.” He says quickly, clearly too fast for your liking. You sigh and let your arms drop, turning away from him to put the hot water from the kettle into the two mugs in front of you.

“You do Luther. I can see it. You don’t come over anymore, you hardly speak to me when I’m around, I did something and now you’re mad at me.” Luther remains silent, something that seems to be occurring more and more lately. “If you hate me, if you want to end our friendship, that’s fine. I’ll let you go, but at least have the decency to tell me why.” Your voice trembles on the last word and Luther is kicking himself as he struggled to find words to assure that it’s not you, it’s him. However, his tongue feels heavy and his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and his mind is blank. He couldn’t very well tell you the truth, he’d lose you for sure, but it looks like he’s losing you anyway. You must take his silence as reason to keep pushing. “If this is about- your condition-” your voice drops on those two words and Luther stands up abruptly.

“How do you know about that?!” He seethes. You glance up at him from where you’re staring intently at the tea steeping below you on the counter, but only briefly.

“Allison told me. Months ago.” You responded, voice quiet. He’s in the process of figuring out all the different colorful things he’s going to say to Allison upon his return at the Academy, when you speak again. “Why didn’t you tell me Luther? I’m your best friend.” There’s that word again. Friend. The word has caused so much stress, frustration, and confusion in his life and now he’s going to lose you over it too.

“You’d hate me.” You look up at him.

“I could never ha-” He interrupts you, the panic and fear and anger sliding down his spine.

“Or worse, you’d look at me like everybody else does, with pity in their eyes.” He spits the words out with so much venom, he surprises himself. It clearly surprises you as well.

“Is that what you really think?” You finally dare to make eye contact with him for the first time the whole night and your voice is cold. He shrugs, not knowing what to say. “After all this time, after everything, that’s all you think of me?” Luther is, once again, at a loss of words and he feels the panic crawling up his throat that if he doesn’t say something soon, it’s not going to be pretty. You take his silence as apparent confirmation because the words you utter next is ones he never wanted to hear.

“Get out.”

He throws the front door of the Academy open and spots Vanya coming down the stairs. They make eye contact and she shrinks back, feeling the anger radiating off of him. A pang goes through his chest, remembering the last time he felt this angry. “Where’s Allison?” He asks and Vanya nods her head towards the kitchen. He heads there and he can feel Vanya following behind him. His siblings are sitting around, clearly laughing at some sort joke Klaus has just finished telling. The room falls silent as they look over to a glowering Luther and Vanya who is shrinking behind him in the doorway. Luther’s eyes settle on Allison, who is conveniently, the furthest away from him. “What gives you the right to tell her about what Dad did?” His voice is low and and it’s Diego who understands first.

“Oh, shit.” Diego mutters. He glances over at Ben, who looks at Klaus, who looks to Vanya.

“Maybe we should...” Klaus says, as Diego and Ben move to stand up.

“Sit down.” Luther says, and the three resume their position as Vanya moves behind them. Allison is looking at the table, avoiding looking at him. Five’s head swings between Luther and the rest of the siblings.

“Did I miss something?” He asks, finally settling on Vanya and Diego. Diego shrugs.

“Unless, you’ve been missing the heart eyes Luther makes every time (Y/N) comes around, you’re as up to speed as the rest of us.” Five snorts. Luther lets Diego’s comment slide because the only thing he can feel is the sheer betrayal he feels at Allison’s actions. Before Five can formulate a response, Luther finds himself talking.

“What the hell, Allison!?” The girl finally makes eye contact with him. “After everything you and I have been through, what gives you the right to tell her that?! You knew, better than anyone, how I felt about that.” Allison sighs and looks away from him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I thought she already knew, I promise. I wouldn’t intentionally tell her that if I hadn’t thought she already knew.” Luther softens, but only a little.

“So I didn’t get a choice in the matter?! To tell the girl that I love-” His voice stops on the word, realizing what he’s just said out loud. Five’s eyes narrow and Klaus raises his eyebrows. No one else seems to be phased though, leading him to believe there’s been one too many conversations about him behind his back. Figures they’d leave Klaus and his big mouth and Five’s smart mouth out of it.

“Like I said, I thought she knew. Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I didn’t get a chance! You got to her months before I could!” Luther exclaims, getting defensive once again. He’d rather not think about the consequences of his words just yet.

“Wait, hold on. She’s known this for months?” Ben intervenes. Allison nods.

“Four.” She confirmed.

“Four months and she didn’t say anything?” Ben asks, chuckling to himself a little bit.

“This isn’t funny.” Luther deadpans, now staring down Ben.

“It is, just a little.” Ben said, his laughter growing. It seems to click for Vanya, who joins in on Ben’s laughter. “Why’d you never tell her Luther?” He asks, still struggling to hold in his chuckles.

“I- I didn't want her to hate me, or- or think of me differently.” Luther said quietly.

“Well that answers that then.” Vanya says. The siblings all look over to her and she shrinks back from the sudden attention. “Well, I’m just saying, if she’s known for four months, and she hasn’t said anything, and nothing’s changed, I’d say the answer’s pretty obvious.” It’s Klaus who understands next and his smirk grows.

“In fact, one might say, to know for four months and to not say anything means there’s something more.” He says, using the voice he must’ve used when he was preaching or whatever the hell he did with his cult in the 60′s.

“Where you going with this Klaus?” Diego asks. Its Allison who joins in next, a grin growing on her face.

“Well aside from our brother’s new confession of undying love for the poor girl, she must feel the same to know for four months and never say anything.”

“To let nothing change in hopes that one day you’d feel the same way for her.” Five finishes, realization dawning on his face.

“Well, it doesn’t matter because she’s never gonna speak to me again.” Luther says, and turns from his siblings, heading back up to his room. So, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. So what, if it just means losing you? He’d go through a million apocalypses, swallow his feelings for you a hundred times, if it meant you’d still be in his life.

v. the time you drop everything to be there for him

It’s been a week since you’ve spoken to Luther. Klaus and Ben keep telling him he should talk to you, to fix things, but if you can go this long without talking to him, he knows that you’re better off. You don’t need him in your life messing things up and making it harder for you. Unfortunately, late one night, fate makes the decision for him. It’s storming out and Luther hates the sounds of thunder. His heart is racing as he lays in his too small bed, arms clutching his comforter. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drown out the images in his brain as he searches for sleep again. His nightmare keeps replaying over in his mind, the image of you and his siblings lifeless on the ground. There was so much blood. He knows it’s just a nightmare, it has to be, but fear is crawling up his throat and he thinks he might be sick. What if that was real? What if it was some suppressed memory, and everyone he’s ever cared about is just- gone? His eyes fly open as he fumbles for his phone. He still isn't really sure how to use it but he knows well enough to call you. Pleasepickuppleasepickuppleasepicku-

“H-hello?” The voice on the other line sounds groggy and somehow through his sheer panic, he feels a pang of guilt for waking you up. His mind is racing and he still can't breathe but he can't deny the relief he feels hearing your sleepy voice. “Luther? You there?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here.” He stutters.

“Is everything okay? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He can’t help the way his voice shakes, clearly giving away the reality. “I just... just needed to hear your voice, s’all.” His heart is slowing down the longer you’re on the phone with him.

“Do you want me to come over?” As much as he wants to say yes, he shakes his head, forgetting you can’t see him. He clears his throat.

“No- no, I’ll be okay. Just a nightmare.”

“I’m coming over. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” He can hear rustling in the background, visualizing you pulling your shoes on and grabbing your keys.

“You- you don’t have to do that.” He says, even though he wants nothing more than to pull you close to him and maybe fall asleep with you in his arms.

“Just stay on the phone with me okay Luther? I’ll be there in ten.”

It’s actually 7 minutes before you’re opening the door to the Academy and rushing in. Luther’s sitting on the stairs waiting for you. He had to get out of his room but he didn’t want to go too far, not wanting to miss your arrival. The light in the foyer is on and you slowly walk towards where he’s seated. You crouch down, so that you can make eye contact with the man. He looks up at you and he realizes how much he misses you, how much he yearns to be around you. “You okay?” You ask softly. He shakes his head, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with you. “What can I do for you?” He shrugs, still not wanting to voice how much he just wants to hold you in his arms. “C’mon, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make tea.” He follows you wordlessly. He sits in silence as he watches you fill the kettle and put it on the burner. You come around behind him and reach down, sliding your arms around his neck. It takes him a minute to realize you’re hugging him around his larger frame. He takes your hand and squeezes it. All too soon, the kettle starts whistling and he reluctantly lets you go. You put the hot water into two mugs and put the teabags in, letting it steep as you set the mugs down in front of the two of you.

“Thank you.” He says, quietly. You nod.

“Of course.” You say as you take the seat next to him. “I’m always gonna be here for you, even when I’m mad at you.” He looks over at you, thoughts being brought back to your fight, if you could even call it that. “I’m not mad at you, by the way. I was upset that you felt like you couldn’t trust me, but I know that’s something that-” You draw in a breath. “Something that takes a while to build.”

“I do. I do trust you.” He says firmly. “I trust you more than I trust anyone else.” He says honestly. “I was just- just scared.” You scoot your chair closer to his until your knees are touching and you can lean your head on his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere, Luther. I promise.” He looks down at you as the truth finally settles comfortably in his heart for the first time. He’s in love with his best friend and he’s okay with it. He thinks that just maybe- you feel the same way.

+ the one time he actually does something about it.

Luther wakes up alone the next morning. Disappointment settles in his chest, hoping you’d still be there. He gets up however, and goes about his day. He starts to worry though, as the day goes by, and he still hasn’t heard a word from you. He thinks that maybe last night had been out of pity, or some sort of obligation to his siblings. After dinner though, he gets a text from you, asking if he wants to come over. It doesn’t say what or why, but he misses you and he thinks he’s finally ready to tell you the truth, no matter what you might say in return. In fact, for the first time in a while, he’s starting to let himself hope, a feeling that’s a bit too foreign to him. He hopes you feel the same way about him. That you’re in love with him too. He agrees, texting you that he’d be over soon. He clear his throat, standing up from the table, and put his plate in the sink, ignoring the questioning look Five shoots him. He walks to your apartment, a dopey smile on his face. He makes it to your building and he lets himself in, watching how you turn to face him from the hallway. You give him a soft smile.

“Sorry about leaving this morning without saying anything. My co-worker called out so I had to cover their opening shift and I didn’t want to wake you because you looked really peaceful so...” You trail off, a light blush forming on your cheeks. He shook his head.

“It’s okay.” He says. The two of you stand there, just looking at each other. You startle finally.

“OH! I was wondering if you wanted to make these cookies with me? My Dad was finally able to get his hands on some of my Grandma’s recipes and I wanted to try one out?” He nods, smiling at the excitement lighting up your face. Your grandma had passed when you were little and it had been a struggle to get the family recipes, your family getting left out of a lot of the division of property. You had once told him that you were really only connected with her through baking. He always told you she’d be proud of you and your baking. You’d always blush and look away. He nodded, remembering he was going to need to use his words if he was going to hope to have the nerves to tell you that he was in love with you.

“Sure.” He says, moving to your kitchen. You follow him and pull the recipe up on your container as you both pull the ingredients out of their designated areas. The two of you spend so much time together that he knows his way around the kitchen like it’s the one at the Academy and the two of have baking together down to a science. You turn to music on, having made a playlist specifically for the dance parties that would happen while you’d wait for your pastry or dessert to cook. As the cookies bake in the oven, he watches with a smile as you dance around the kitchen, using the wooden spoon as a microphone. He isn’t planning it but-

“I’m in love with you.” Your eyes widen as you slowly come to a stop. The music still playing in the background feels unnatural given what was just said and you must agree because you slowly reach over to the computer, pausing it. You reach back and look at him, eyes still wide in what he thinks is shock. He’s starting to panic now, as you just stand there, mouth open. “It- it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” God dammit, this is why he didn’t hope for things anymore. Damn his siblings for letting him think you might feel the same way. “It doesn’t have to change anything. I understand. I just wanted you to know.” He says, quietly. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.” He turns to leave, feeling defeated. Fate is a cruel temptress, he’s officially decided.

“Luther- Luther wait.” You say, arm shooting out to grab his. You pull him back around to face you and he turns to see you unusually close to him. “Sorry, sorry, I panicked and froze.” You’re tumbling through your words, trying to spit them out, hardly breathing between them. He grows concerned at your state and he thinks you’re still worried about him feeling bad.

“Seriously, (Y/N), it’s fine-” You cut him off.

“No, no it’s not.” His heart sinks, but only for a minute because suddenly you’re talking again. “I’m in love with you too Luther. I have been for a while. I just never thought you’d feel the same way and I-” Your words stop as you look up to see you two are quite close together and all he wants to do is lean down and-

“Can I kiss you?” The words slip out before he can stop them but he’s not going to take them back. Not this time. You nod, and close the gap between the two of you. It’s short and sweet, just like you. The oven beeps, unfortunately, interrupting the moment.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble. “I love you Luther, but if I burn these cookies, I’m gonna be pissed.” He chuckles, loving how casually that word slips out of your mouth. He lets go of your waist, where his hands had been resting. You pull the cookies out of the oven and standing back from them, looking down at them proudly. He walks over to you and pulls you close to his chest and you sigh contentedly. “I could hold you like this forever.” He says, fingers running through your hair. You hum, wrapping your arms around him under his coat.

“I wouldn't mind it if you did.” You respond softly. Luther looks down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He finally got the girl.

#luther hargreeves #luther hargreeeves imagines #luther hargreeves imagine #luther hargreeves fic

41 notes · View notes

visionsofus · 3 years

Note

Okay but the song “only us” from dear Evan Hansen and it’s Wanda and Vision either in the avengers compound or Edinburgh when Vision asks Wanda to stay with him. It is also a very nice song and makes me want to cry (really love your WandaVision mixtape fic ive read it so many times already)

oh gosh you’re destroying my heart with this one. thank you so much for requesting! the song fits them so well. I hope you like where I took this prompt though it might not be what you had in mind. I went canon divergence from CW but still at the compound for some extra comfort.

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Wanda and Vision’s Mixtape Track #22: Only Us by Laura Dreyfuss, Ben Platt

Synopsis: The Sokovia Accords are renegotiated so that the team are never divided. Following the successful signing of the document a press event is held at the compound. Wanda and Vision take a moment to breath away from the crowds, both have been holding back from each other for months, worried about risking their friendship. A simple miscommunication leads to a brief moment of angst as they realise their months of pining over each other has been mutual.

(ft. months of yearning, sky dancing, Wanda scaring a journalist away from her man, being too worried about each other to realise you’re literally in love--- )

The new Avengers Compound was the ideal location for press events. It gave the team the opportunity to host things on their own terms, in their own space and with their own security team – primarily Friday holding down the Compound’s fortress of a security network, as she so often did. Not to mention the sleek marble floors and tasteful interior décor made for great photo opportunities. Vision understood the logic of hosting the press event following the successful renegotiating of the Sokovia Accords at their home, but it did not make it easier to bare.

He’d just managed to escape the crowded living room after being trapped for half an hour between various news microphones. Vision figured he’d be safe enough by the hors d’oeuvres table which seemed empty enough what with the majority of the team engaged in the living room. He took a moment to relish the silence, turning away and pretending for a moment that it was just a normal evening and that soon enough he could settle down to watch television with his friends and Wanda.

Wanda. Vision grew nervous, perhaps he should have stayed by her side. The press were notorious for asking her the harshest questions to get the scoop they wanted. He hoped that things would be different with the new version of the Accords and the momentary peace it granted between the state and his teammates, but these reporters were sharks and Wanda was far too good at grinning and bearing it. She’d smile at as many cameras and dodge the worst of question if it meant securing a good report of her teammates to the public.

Brows furrowed in concern, Vision turned to make his way back to the living room and check in on her but found himself face to face with a short, eager man. His recorder was held at the ready, but he seemed a little more hesitant than those Vision had past experience with.

“Mr Vision, I’m Jeremy from the New York Gazette, I don’t suppose you’d mind sparing some time for a few questions?” Behind Jeremy a photographer waited, holding her camera up expectantly. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Vision knew how important it was to make a good impression, so he forced a smile.

Back in the living room Wanda’s hands had grown twitchy from being clasped in front of her for so long. She worried that if she didn’t then she’d fold them, something that could make her appear guarded and judgemental. No matter how on edge she was about this whole situation, it was only one night, and she had promised to do her best to be as appealing as possible to the strangers crowding their living room.

So far, she had only been approached by two gutsy journalists who took turns asking her questions about her role in the negotiations and her view on the resulting document they had all signed into. Their questions had been remarkably tame, a more pleasant experience than she’d had in the past, that was for sure. But they’d quickly grown tired of her civil answers, and a small voice in Wanda’s brain told her they’d wanted her to cause a scene and give them something they could really write about. No matter, she’d undermine all their expectations.

In search of comfort, Wanda found herself looking around the room for Vision, she had lost sight of him early on when the journalists had been let in to mingle with her housemates. But Vision was nowhere to be found, and so she grew concerned. Suppose he had been cornered by a particularly nosy journalist? Wanda hated being asked questions about her role in Ultron’s uprising in Sokovia, or the sickening accident she had caused in Lagos, but what really had her grinding her teeth was when these sharks turned their hungry eyes on Vision. He was a prime target for an interesting scoop, and he was too often kind enough to entertain their advances, even, when their questions became inappropriate.

Vision had been her safety net these last few months, always there when she needed a quiet moment away from the world that was so insistent on unpacking every part of her and scrutinising whether she was allowed to wield her own powers. Months spent negotiating with official state representatives intent on disproving her right to exist often became overwhelming. It was in those moments that she sought Vision out.

Many a sleepless night had been spent together, watching sitcom reruns in the living room and falling asleep on the couch together. It began as a simple comfort. But after nearly two years of living with Vision, Wanda worried that she was in danger of being very much in love with him. It had been thrilling at first, then scary, and now the uncertainty between them was agony. They always stopped one step before the edge, so Wanda could never work out if her feelings were being reciprocated or if his affection was purely platonic.

Regardless of her complex feelings around him in that moment, she needed to be there for him as he always was for her. A break had appeared in the throng around her, and Wanda made a beeline for it, catching Steve’s gaze as she passed him. He gave her a nod and she smiled back to assure him that she was alright.

Next to the spacious living room was the dining room which had been cleared of dining table and chairs and was instead occupied by a long buffet table occupied with dozens of different canapés. Wanda thought most of it looked wildly unappealing, perhaps she and Vision could get late night takeout once this whole ordeal was over. Her cheeks warmed at the potential and she quickly schooled the giddy smile from her face.

As she had expected, Vision had been cornered by a journalist and to Wanda’s dismay, she recognised him immediately. Jeremy Coin – he’d written a fairly scathing piece on her involvement in Stark Industries, questioning if she, as a ‘weapon of mass-destruction’ could be trusted with the secrets behind the biggest technological conglomerate in the West. Of course, his carefully timed article had coincided with a big charity launch that she had aided in. Wanda had to step aside from the project at the last minute, lest her presence affect the donations. Aside from volunteering with the charity side of the corporation that Pepper had invited her into, Wanda could hardly be said to be in possession of any industry secrets.

It was fair to say that she was not particularly keen on the man.

“Jeremy,” Wanda said, coming to his side and placing a dangerous hand on the man’s arm, a little bit of his own medicine you might say. It did not go unnoticed, and Wanda took pleasure in the fear on his face as he stepped back. “So lovely to see you!”

“Miss Maximoff,” the short man said, trying for a smile as he pushed back his oily hair, “ever a pleasure.”

“Vis,” Wanda said, shifting her weight so she was nearer him. Vision’s eyes darted between the two, reading the sharp changes in body language. “You all ok here?”

His eyes softened at her reassuring smile and he nodded. “Of course, Mr Coin and I were just discussing some of the more pointed areas of the new Accords,” Vision gestured to Jeremy, “he had some very interesting questions on the relevance of human rights to the discussion of sentient AI.”

Wanda’s stomach dropped. Of course, the snake would have something to say regarding Vision’s humanity.

“Oh,” Wanda purred dangerously and turned on Jeremy, who was now visible sweating, “do elaborate.”

“It was nothing really,” Jeremy said raising a hand in defence. “Perhaps, inappropriate given the newness of this agreement.”

“Perhaps,” Vision said with a tight smile and Wanda took pride in the air of sarcasm he used. “We can finish this off with a photo, then?”

“Of course, of course.” Jeremy hurried to wave the photographer closer.

“Wanda, dear?”

Wanda started at the endearment, Vision had only used it when he was teasing her about this or that. Never before had he used it as genuinely as he did now, and certainly never in public. He extended his elbow to him and she took it instinctively.

The camera flashed once or twice, and Wanda did her best to smile without looking like too much of a lovestruck fool.

“Thank you for your time,” Jeremy said, hurrying to backpedal back to the main event still ongoing in the living room.

“You’re welcome,” Vision said tightly.

“I can’t wait to see your next piece,” Wanda said, unable to help herself.

Vision managed to wait until the man had made it around the corner, practically running away from her, before he started laughing.

“You mustn’t scare him like that,” Vision said quietly to her.

“It’s harmless,” Wanda said shrugging, “besides he was asking you rude questions.”

Vision’s laughter died and he grew more solemn.

“Come on,” Wanda said grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the stairs. “We’ve done our parts for the evening.”

Vision tried to be reluctant about shirking his duty as Wanda lead him up to the roof, but he craved the alone time they spent together more than he cared about his responsibilities.

Vision loved the rooftop of the compound and had spent many evenings escaping the commotion within to stare at the stars above. This far from the city the constellations were remarkably visible.

The rooftop was often used as a space to wind down after particularly challenging days and so it was equipped with a sufficient number of fairy lights as well as a picnic table and barbeque set up. When they reached the rooftop Wanda dropped his arm, much to Vision’s dismay, and ran over to the picnic table where Bucky had left a small radio a few evenings prior. She stopped a foot away and pointed at it dramatically and the speaker crackled to life, music bursting forth. She turned it down a bit and then made to throw herself down in the middle of the courtyard of grass on the rooftop. They often lay there, side by side, Wanda pointed out it was the best way to watch the stars without getting a sore neck, but Vision just liked being able to see the wonder on her face.

This time however, Vision reached out and caught her hand.

“A dance, first?” Vision asked holding out his other hand. “As a thank you for coming to my rescue?” Wanda’s cheeks reddened at the invitation, but Vision was too focused on internally reprimanding himself for taking the selfish opportunity to get closer to notice.

Wordlessly, she accepted his hand and pulled herself closer. Vision’s chest constricted slightly as she slipped one hand over his shoulder, the other coming to rest lightly in his left hand.

“I don’t think I have ever danced like this,” Wanda murmured, this close she had to look up to meet his eyes and Vision grinned down at her.

“There’s a first time for everything.” He pulled her a little closer and took note of the challenge in her gaze as she tightened her grip on his hand.

They started slow, moving in time with the ballad playing over the radio. Wanda got the hang of the steps easily and Vision thanked his lucky stars that he had once thought to investigate simple step dances, precisely for an occasion such as this. If anything, he was the one stumbling, forgetting to count his steps owing to Wanda’s intent gaze never leaving his eyes.

When Vision started to float, Wanda joined him. A red mist surrounded the tips of their feet as they spun into the air. Wanda’s laugh was music to his ears as they kept tight grips on each other, and she sent them spinning around and around. The world below and around them fell away and Vision could only see her, the light of her smile and the happiness shining in her eyes. Never was he as happy as he was with her. What he would do to spend the rest of his life with her…

On Wanda’s cue Vision spun her away and she twisted gracefully upon her magic before returning to his embrace. Her back came to a rest at his chest with his arms around her waist as they swayed and slowly drifted to the ground.

Feet now flat on the ground, the gravity of his body returned, along with the gravity of the situation. Wanda turned slowly in his embrace and Vision froze, unable to move as she turned her eyes on him. He couldn’t help but mimic her body language and they both leaned in. He watched her eyes widen as they flitted desperately about his face and Vision stopped.

He turned his head sharply to the side and took several deep breaths. Dropping his hands from Wanda’s waist he hurriedly took a few steps back, worried of what he might do without the distance to separate them. She was his friend, his closest friend and he would not risk making things estranged simply because of the futile feelings captivating his normally rational mind.

“We ought to be getting back downstairs, Tony said they wanted a group photo at the end.” His voice didn’t sound right following the tense silence that stretched between them.

Wanda’s eyes had grown shadowed, and she turned away from him.

“Why must you do that?” Wanda asked and Vision started at the rawness in her voice.

“Why must I do what?” He asked, forcing his vocal cords to act.

“You start things, you get close and then you pull away from me again and again,” she said, and Vision was horrified to see her turn and reveal that her eyes were brimming with tears. “You are so straightforward with everythingelse! If you don’t want me that way, you just have to say it.” A hand came shakily to her mouth and she wrapped her arms around herself, turning away from him.

Vision was dumbstruck and stood like an idiot for a few moments while he tried to process what she had just said. In his silence Wanda kept talking. “It’s fine, clear as day, let’s just forget I said anything.” He watched her surreptitiously wiping at her eyes and rolling her shoulders back. How many times had he seen her do the same thing on the days when it was difficult to face the world? Never before had he thought he might become the source of her hurt.

“Wanda,” Vision reached out to catch her fingers as she tried to walk away from him, “how could you ever think I wouldn’twant you?”

She spun on him and snatched her hand away. “What do you mean?”

“Of course, I want you,” Vision said, his voice hitching in exasperation. “I just worry about my feelings ruining our friendship, I understand you don’t feel the same—”

As he babbled, hoping to mask his abrupt confession, Wanda stalked closer until they were nearly nose to nose.

“Hello,” Vision breathed, going cross-eyed now that she was before him.

Wanda laughed, an exasperated smile on her face in stark contrast with the tears she had almost shed moments ago. “We’re both fools.”

“We are?” Vision asked hesitantly.

She bit her lip and leant closer, her forehead brushing his. Her hands found his and it was as though little sparks danced between them as she trailed her fingertips up his palms. Vision shivered though he did not feel the cold.

“We’re trying to confess the same things here,” Wanda whispered but Vision’s eyes had shut, and he was desperately trying to hold onto his composure as her fingers made their way up his forearm.

“I—we are?”

He felt Wanda nod.

“Please don’t leave me to infer things, I’m clearly not very good at it,” Vision whispered, and he pressed his forehead to hers longingly.

“Then let me say it,” she said, her voice a whisper upon his cheek, “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to.”

He was holding his breath.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Vision melted.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited—” but he didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence before Wanda was kissing him and the world was falling away.

It was months of anticipation paying off in one glorious moment and Vision felt sure that he was flying again. His hands came up to cup Wanda’s cheeks as they moved in sync. He finally drew back with a laugh and grinned as Wanda teased another kiss from him.

“All this time I was holding myself back, thinking you could never be interested in me, I worried I wouldn’t ever be good enough for you.” The truth flowed out in a rush now that he’d admitted to the secret he’d kept hidden the past long months.

“Oh Vis,” Wanda murmured, turning forlorn and raising a hand to his cheek. She made to continue but huffed in frustration as she searched for the right words. In the end she instead pressed her forehead to his, the mind stone flickering at the familiarity of her touch. And then a rush of emotion hit Vision as she started to project her feelings to him. It was something else to hear her tell him she was falling for him, but to feel that emotion coursing from her to him. Vision let loose a shuddering breath. Her longing, her worries, her fears. In return, Vision did his best to call forth the longing he felt for her, the burning love that was growing in his heart day in day out and pushed it her way.

Wanda laughed happily at this and drew back, her eyes shining. Vision nodded in understanding and turned his chin into her hand, kissing her palm tenderly.

“Let’s forget the dumb doubts, just forget all those irrational worries and let’s just—” Wanda shook her head happily, “just be us.”

In that moment Vision would have done anything she asked but he settled for a tender kiss. Wanda sighed wistfully into him and he trailed his arms down her back to hug her to him.

Wanda couldn’t recall when she had last felt this happy, but it went beyond your average joy, she was ecstatic. Every worry from earlier in the evening, her months spent agonising over his true feelings for her all fell away. It was impossible to not be lost in him, not when she finally had him where she wanted him. She drew her arms up over his shoulders and hugged him tightly, delighting in how perfectly their bodies matched, his chin coming to rest atop her head. The rest of the world fell away and reassembled itself around her, now reoriented with Vision at its centre.

“It’s just you and me,” Vision whispered in her ear.

“There’s nothing else in the world that I need.”

They stayed content in their own little world, not longing for anything except the shared comfort of each other’s warm embrace.

#wandavision #scarletvision #scarlet vision fanfiction #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #vision #wanda x vision #visionsofusfics #its all about the yearning #sweet sweet longing #bit nervous about posting this one #but I hope everyone likes it

10 notes · View notes

dancingkirby · 3 years

Text

In which Azula learns to not judge a book by its cover

WARNING: Discussion of past rape.

To the surprise of both his parents, rather than moving back to the palace full-time after graduating from Capital University three years ago, Kazuo had elected to rent his own apartment in the Caldera. A “bachelor’s pad,” Azula was pretty sure it was called in modern slang. Kazuo had said that this was because he’d wanted to take a stab at independent living, but Azula suspected that the real reason was so he could have a place to entertain various lady friends in private. Azula didn’t care to think about that too much, and decided that as long as her son was diligently using protection and keeping everything consensual, she would keep quiet on the subject. Besides, he wasn’t so caught up in his liaisons that he was neglecting his duties as a member of the Royal Family. He showed up for every required event, and had inherited Azula’s knack for public appearances.

Last year, Kazuo had gotten into his first serious romantic relationship, and had taken the young lady to meet Azula and Tom-Tom. Azula had initially been excited about her son finally thinking about settling down, but the meeting had not exactly gone well. Kazuo’s girlfriend, who was named Kumi, had completely defied royal protocol and run up to shake Azula’s hand, even having the audacity to address her by her given name without so much as a “Princess” before it! The young lady had then spent the entire encounter bragging about her accomplishments so that neither Azula nor Tom-Tom could get a word in edgewise. Azula had made her displeasure known by giving Kumi death glares at every opportunity, yet this did nothing to curtail the woman. Tom-Tom, of course, had been as unerringly polite as he always was. However, when Kumi finally left, he admitted that even he hadn’t cared for her much. Neither of them was surprised when it turned out that Kumi had been in it simply for the status.

Azula had been relieved when that was over. On the other hand, poor Kazuo was heartbroken. Then, this spring, a devastating earthquake had hit Shuhon, destroying most of the island’s natural gas deposits and killing tens of thousands of people. It was the worst natural disaster to hit a home island in living memory. Her son volunteered to take an extended trip there to help with the rebuilding process once the air was deemed safe to breathe, and Azula had thought it was probably for the best. She’d hoped that the hard work would take his mind off his anguish.

What she hadn’t anticipated was that within weeks, Kazuo would write home that he’d met a girl in Shuhon and was going out with her. And now, six months later, he was bringing her home with him.

Tonight was the big night, of both their reunion with Kazuo and introduction to his girlfriend…and they were late. At this rate, the food would get here before her son would. Azula began to worry that Kazuo had crashed his…what was it called again? Satomobile, that’s right. Some young upstart in Republic City had started manufacturing them a couple of years ago, and now everyone in the Caldera wanted one. Everyone except Azula, that is. Those vehicles went entirely too fast for her liking.

Just as Tom-Tom was attempting to talk Azula out of sending servants to look for the pair, there was a knock on the door. Azula bid the person to come in, and felt enormously relieved as her beaming son ran straight past the servant announcing his arrival and into his parents’ arms.

“Mom! Dad! I missed you both so much!” Kazuo exclaimed. “Sorry we’re late…traffic was horrible.” When they broke from their embrace, Azula appraised him with her sternest maternal gaze.

“You have been gone entirely too long. Your skin is all brown; did it never occur to you to wear a hat?” she demanded. But she couldn’t keep the act up for long. Within seconds, she had cracked a smile, hugging Kazuo again.

Tom-Tom cleared his throat.

“Son, I believe you said that you wanted to introduce us to someone?” he prompted. Azula finally got a glimpse at the young woman hanging back in a doorway, who fell into a kowtow as soon as she saw that Azula was looking at her. Well, that was one point in her favor already.

“You may rise,” Azula told her. When the girl stood and walked into the room, Azula finally looked her over properly. She was quite tall and a little gangling. However, seeing as how Kazuo had attained a height of 6’3’’ (just like his grandfather), it didn’t look as awkward as it might have. Although her face was nothing memorable, her hair was glossy and reached down to her mid-back. She was attired in a pretty yet modest outfit of a pink tunic and a matching set of red jacket and pants.

“Mother, Father, this is Lady Botan,” Kazuo said.

The girl was shaking like a leaf, but managed to get out, “P-princess Azula. Prince Tom-Tom. It is an honor to meet you.”

“And it is a delight to meet you too, Lady Botan,” Tom-Tom assured her. This, combined with Kazuo placing a protective hand on her shoulder, made Botan look slightly more relaxed.

“Yes, well, dinner will be ready shortly,” Azula added. Then, at another knock on the door, “I stand corrected. Dinner is ready now.”

The four of them sat at the table as the servants arranged the first course. Azula gazed intently at Botan over her bowl of wontons in clear broth. She was perfectly aware of how intimidating her appearance could be to those who weren’t close to her. Although she would be sixty next month, she could pull off her trademark eyeliner and bright red lipstick as well as ever. Plus, as this girl’s potential mother-in-law, was it not expected of her to be overbearing? Her standards were exacting; none but the best would do for her only son.

“So,” she began, “How did you come to meet Prince Kazuo?”

Botan jumped a little in her seat at being so abruptly addressed, and began, “Shuhon is my home island, Princess. My dad, my sister, my brothers, and I were all contributing in any way we could. We were lucky that our house escaped the worst of the damages…but anyway. The first day I arrived there from Capital Island, I was carrying some heavy crates of medical supplies. They slipped, and I would have dropped them all if Kazuo hadn’t run up just then to help! And then we started talking, and something just…clicked. He said his name was Kazuo, and I was like, ‘Oh, like the prince?’ and he was like ‘Uh…yeah.’ He didn’t end up actually telling me who he was until after our fourth date! Can you believe that?”

She gave a very annoying high-pitched laugh.

“I see,” Azula responded. She daintily picked up a wonton from her bowl with her chopsticks and popped it in her mouth, her eyes never leaving Botan’s. Once she had swallowed her food, she continued, “My son called you Lady Botan. That means you are a member of the nobility. How could you possibly not have known who he was?”

“Azula…” Tom-Tom said softly. However, his pleasant smile never left his face.

“I don’t believe we have ever seen you at court, Lady Botan,” he said in an attempt to soften Azula’s words.

“No, my mom was the one who was noble,” Botan explained. “She was an only child and inherited the estate. But she died when I was four, from cancer. My dad’s just a silk merchant, and he didn’t see a reason to live at the Caldera after that.”

“Ah, yes, I remember hearing about that now,” Tom-Tom replied. “Lady Ayako, wasn’t it? I think I met her once or twice. I offer my condolences for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Botan said. “But it’s okay. I hardly remember her, so I’m just kind of used to it now, you know?” Another nervous giggle escaped her.

Their conversation had to be suspended at that moment, since the servants were clearing away their soup bowls; Azula noted that Botan had scarcely touched hers. Then, two beautiful roast ducks were presented for their main course, skin sizzling and deep golden-brown. They were accompanied by a sweet and spicy sauce, along with sides of rice, scallion pancakes, and mixed vegetables.

“You’re in for a treat, Botan!” Kazuo said while grinning. “They make the best roast duck here in the palace. It was one of the things I missed the most when I was in Shuhon.”

Botan smiled back at him, although it looked a little strained.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence. However, Azula wasn’t quite done with her interrogation yet.

“Prince Kazuo informed me that you are a recent graduate of Capital University,” she said. “What was your major?”

“Psychology and sociology, Princess. Double major,” Botan said. At least that was a hopeful sign. Perhaps this young lady wasn’t as unintelligent as she appeared.

“Then you must have made the acquaintance of my friend Ty Lee,” Azula stated.

Botan nodded eagerly, seemingly relieved that they’d found some common ground. “Yes. She taught my Trauma Psych class. She…well, it could be a difficult class at times, but it was always interesting.”

Azula raised an eyebrow, feeling annoyed for reasons she didn’t fully understand. “Why ‘difficult?’ Is my friend too strict of a teacher for your liking? Or are you simply averse to a little hard work?”

She heard intakes of breath from both her husband and son. Botan’s face flooded with color. “No, no, she was a great teacher! Really nice. It’s just…it was difficult for another reason…” Her gaze darted frantically over to Kazuo. He squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear, and she nodded.

“We’re going to go take a walk,” he stated, glowering in Azula’s direction. Before she could protest, Tom-Tom said, “Yes, that’s fine. I think it would be best for all of us.”

As soon as the younger two had left the room, Azula’s husband turned to her.

“Azula, we have been married for twenty-seven years, and I love you more than anything. You know that,” he said. “Nevertheless, you went too far this time. I thought that Botan was a perfectly nice young lady, and was trying her best. You should consider apologizing to her when she returns. I will certainly do so myself for not doing more to intervene.” His voice was as level as always, but it had a hint of underlying steel that Azula had only heard a handful of times during their marriage. It meant that this was one of the rare occasions that Tom-Tom was genuinely angry at her. And if something was sufficient to piss him off, then she knew it was serious.

“I didn’t think I was that…” Azula began somewhat lamely, only to cut herself off when she heard muffled sobs coming from down the hallway. It was clear that Tom-Tom heard it too.

“…Right. I’ll go apologize to her now,” she sighed in resignation as she got up from the table.

When she opened the door to their apartment, she heard Botan wailing, “She hated me! A..and I can’t blame her because I sounded like an idiot!”

Kazuo took her into his arms. “Aw, no, sweetie, you did just fine. Mom can be…difficult. But I’m going to talk to her later tonight, and I think Dad already did.”

Azula waited in the shadows for a while, until Botan’s tears faded, and her mind wandered back to the day almost twenty-nine years ago when Tom-Tom had comforted her in much the same way. It appeared that her son had turned out to be as good a man as his father.

Finally, she cleared her throat, and both Kazuo and Botan’s head shot up.

“If you wanted to say something to me, you might as well do it now,” she said.

Kazuo frowned. “I don’t think this is a good time, Mom…”

“No.” Botan stepped out of Kazuo’s embrace. “I…I want to tell her. Alone.”

“Wow. Are you sure? That’s…I know that would be difficult for you, especially since this is just your first time meeting her.” Kazuo touched her shoulder again. Botan looked down and took a deep breath.

“…Yes,” she finally said.

“Might I suggest doing this in my study instead of in the hallway? The palace servants are quite proficient at making themselves almost invisible in order to eavesdrop,” Azula pointed out.

“Good idea,” Kazuo admitted. Then, to Botan, “One last time…are you really sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured to do it if you’re not ready.”

The younger woman squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

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

“Now,” Azula said, once they were both situated in comfortable upholstered chairs and free from any listening ears, “What was it you wanted to tell me? I give you permission to speak freely.”

She was expecting for Botan to yell at her, to fling all sorts of insults. What she actually said was somewhat surprising.

“I’d been wanting to meet you for so long, before I ever knew Kazuo,” she began. “You’re...you’re my hero. All that work you’ve done to raise awareness for sexual abuse, all the charities you run…and I read the book you co-wrote with Professor Ty Lee. It was so comforting to me after…”

She broke off; tears were running down her face again. Azula wordlessly gave her a handkerchief from the stack on her desk. Even though her own crying spells occurred nowhere nearly as frequently as they had in her youth, they still had the nasty tendency to blindside her every now and then.

Once Botan had gotten this latest burst of emotion under control, the words poured out of her like water from a burst dam. She said, “I was nineteen. A man who I had seen as one of my closest friends put something in my drink when we were at a party, and then he took me to his dorm room and…and raped me. And everyone thought I was lying about it because he was so popular! I tried to go to the campus police, and they wouldn’t press charges because they didn’t think there was enough evidence. All they said was that I shouldn’t have looked away from my drink. I was so discouraged that I kept it from most of my family; didn’t even tell Kazuo until about a month ago…”

“And yet you told me, even after I upset you,” Azula pointed out.

“Yeah,” Botan acknowledged. More scrubbing at her eyes, and she continued, “I know it seems weird. But I thought if anyone would understand, you would. Your book helped me get through that. I kept telling myself that you had it so much worse than me, since I was an adult when it happened, and not…I mean, I’d had boyfriends before, and I couldn’t even remember much of it, and he wasn’t my dad, and I didn’t…didn’t…”

“Didn’t get pregnant?” Azula guessed.

“…yeah.”

“I see.” She took a moment to figure out exactly how she wanted to say this.

“Trauma isn’t a competition,” she finally said as she rose from her chair and walked closer to Botan. “Just because yours was different from mine, doesn’t mean it wasn’t as real. And…I apologize for my behavior, as difficult as it is for me to say that. You shouldn’t have had to feel compelled to share something so personal just to seek my approval. At the same time, I am glad that my life’s work meant something to you. My goal was that no abuse survivor should feel as alone as I did, or my father’s other prey did. It appears as though there is still much work for me to do, though. Perhaps my charities need a younger spokesperson who is more in touch with the times. Someone like you…if you find that arrangement pleasing.”

Botan was struck speechless for a few moments. Then, she breathed, “Of course I would, Princess. It would be such a great honor, and my dream job. I just hope I can be worthy of it.”

“If you are seeking to become a part of the royal family, you’ll have to find some cause to champion,” Azula remarked. “My brother is all about public service. Now let us finish our dinner, shall we? There is plum ice cream for dessert, which we won’t want to miss.”

“Sounds good,” Botan replied.

“It is Kazuo’s favorite flavor. If you intend to marry my son, it would be wise of you to memorize all of his preferred foods, don’t you think?”

Perhaps she had found that perfect mate for her son that she

#azula #fanfic #short stories about Azula

3 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 4 years

Text

A Taste of Rebellion

Part II

(For Part 1 go HERE)

A/N: Well, I’m not sure how many people will read this given that “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” was just released today, but I hope those of you who do enjoy it! I know it’s been a long time coming. FYI, the time period is the same in this, surrounding the 74th Hunger Games, but I’ve aged Katniss and Peeta about 7 or 8 years.

Prompt 68: (submitted by @oakfarmer12): Dark Coffee Shop AU- Capitol Peeta runs a coffee/pastry shop in the poshest part of the Capitol nearby President Snow’s mansion. Capitol Katniss is a frequent customer. Things in the Capitol begin to deteriorate as the rebellion drags on. Are they sympathetic to the rebel cause?

Written by: @acpoe82 (JHsgf82 on A03)

Rating: T

Trigger Warning: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, and sex/prostitution

Peeta looks the necklace over thoroughly before his eyes gravitate back up to her face. “It’s very nice.”

Katniss nods. “I lost my dad, too,” she mutters, still staring down at the necklace, fingering it. When she looks up, Peeta’s blue eyes seem to shine with sympathy.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says.

He doesn’t ask how it happened, but she tells him, anyway, at least as much as was told to her. “He worked in the Nut. It was an accident,” she says, wondering if she sounds believable.

Sullenly, Peeta nods. “I’m so sorry, Katniss.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I just…it’s…” She huffs. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Peeta replies. “I felt that way, too.”

Katniss twists her lips into her best smile of appreciation, though she’s sure it comes out weak. If only Peeta knew…but of course, she’s not ready to tell him her theory. She barely knows him. She knows Peeta is trying to be helpful, but the situation isn’t really the same. Peeta’s father got sick, and while that’s terrible, at least he died of natural causes. Her father didn’t have to die. It wasn’t nature’s way. He was murdered. She feels terrible comparing the deaths‒a death is a death, after all. No matter how they went the person is still gone, and the loved ones are left dealing with the aftermath.

“He used to take me hunting,” she starts.

“Hence the talk of venison.” He gives her a small smile.

“Yeah. I go to District 7 to hunt. I use his bow.” Katniss doesn’t know why she’s telling him all this. If it was just a fair trade of information, she could have stopped at her father’s death rather than volunteering more information. That, in itself, is more information than she’s given any who didn’t directly know him themselves.

“That’s nice,” Peeta says, “being able to do something he did. Carrying on his legacy, in a way.”

His words strike a chord with Katniss. She supposes hunting was kind of her father’s legacy if anything was. That, and protecting the Capitol, of course.

“You’re doing that, too,” she tells him.

Peeta’s smile grows warmer but quickly drops off. “Trying to,” he says wryly. “Although, this place isn’t quite what I imagined it would be…”

She studies him, the twist of his lips, the slight wrinkle in his forehead, the look in his eyes‒there’s something hidden in those blues that seems painfully familiar…it feels like the look she must get when she thinks of her father. Katniss’s lips part to speak, but she presses them tightly together. And she and Peeta swap tentative glances. He must be processing, too, perhaps as uncertain as she about the exchange of so much personal information in such a short period of time.

“What do you mean, Peeta?” she asks after some time. It seems to her that the place does well enough. Peeta simply tells her to come back at night and she’ll see, and then he offers her a cheese bun.

*** She does as he suggests, and the next time Katniss visits the coffee shop, it’s evening. She’s still wondering why Peeta asked her to return at night; he was so cryptic about it. Was it just a ruse to get her here and see her again? He had expressed interest in her returning in the past. As soon as she steps inside, she has her answer…

The coffee shop is completely transformed, and Katniss nearly walks out, thinking she’s accidentally stumbled into a posh Capitol nightclub. It looks it, after all, so much so that she’s surprised no one stopped her at the entrance to check a list before allowing her inside. The interior of the space is darkened, lit by fluorescent ambient lighting, and music is playing, which she could hear from outside but thought she was imagining. She wasn’t. And it’s certainly not the gentle background music she’s become accustomed to here, but much louder and more upbeat.

The place is bustling. In some more congested areas, Katniss even has to push her way past crowds of Capitolites who are talking, drinking, laughing, and even dancing‒or, more like drunkenly swaying while sloppily attempting to hold each other up. And another thing, everyone around her seems to be way more dressed up than usual, even…Peeta? At least, she thinks it’s Peeta, but maybe it’s another stocky blond man behind the counter…

When she ventures closer, there’s no mistaking him, although he looks much different. He’s dressed all in white, in a pristine suit that seems to perfectly complement his blond hair, which, tonight, appears professionally styled. Not that Peeta’s hair doesn’t always look good, but it’s usually…messy-good, not so…coiffed.

Katniss takes a seat in one of the few open spots at the bar, a couple of seats over from her usual one which is taken. Peeta is busy and hasn’t noticed her yet, so she uses the opportunity to observe him quietly as she would a creature in the forest. He’s turned to the side, and she lets her eyes drift all the way down as far as she can see past the counter. She notices he’s wrapped his apron around his bottom half, over his suit. While it seems an odd thing to do, she imagines it’s functional, and she must admit a rather cute touch. She slides a finger across her lips as she watches him.

When Peeta turns her direction slightly, she discerns that the most uncomfortable-looking collar (possibly known to man) completes his ensemble. It’s diamond-shaped, the jagged top point pressing against his throat like a dagger. It looks like it was designed by a sociopath; it must jab him whenever he moves. How could Peeta choose to wear such a thing? Definitely more fashion than function. Capitolites do oftentimes choose to look stylish over being comfortable, but Peeta doesn’t seem like that type. It looks to be the work of a stylist‒9 times out of 10 (at least), a stylist will choose what looks good over what’s comfortable‒but, to Katniss’s knowledge, Peeta doesn’t have his own stylist. Then again, there is Cinna…

Cinna. Peeta’s partner. The brilliant former Games stylist…

When Katniss first met Cinna, she liked him right away; she could tell he was different from most Capitol citizens. Like Peeta, he seemed down to earth and easy to talk to, and he wasn’t extravagant. He wore sensible clothing like her, a dark shirt and pants, simple although made of fine materials, and just a swipe of gold eyeshadow.

She finds it hard to believe the collar could have anything to do with Cinna. Not only has he given up on being a stylist, but he would never torture Peeta so.

That aside, overall, Peeta looks good. Really good. And Katniss feels very under-dressed by comparison…

Finally, Peeta sees her, and he gets a great big smile on his face and waves. The corner of Katniss’s lips tilt slightly as she throws up a static hand. And he heads over. When he’s standing before her, she notes that he still smells as he always does, of cinnamon and dill, but tonight, she also catches a hint of some hair product. It’s coconut and another scent she can’t identify, simultaneously sweet and masculine. So then, in addition to looking nice, he smells nice, too.

“Hi,” Peeta says, a smile teasing his lips.

“Hi. Here again?”

“I could say the same of you.”

“You asked me to come,” she states plainly, folding her arms on the counter.

“So I did.” His smile broadens.

She taps one arm with a finger. “You work a lot.”

“Yeah. It’s necessary with such a small staff.”

Katniss nods, and her eyes flicker over him. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks.” He glances down, straightening his lapels.

“Oh, by the way, am I dressed okay?” she asks. Normally, she wouldn’t care, but some places have standards, and Peeta’s been so nice that she doesn’t want to offend him.

Peeta grins. “Of course. Why?”

She hopes he doesn’t think she’s fishing for a compliment. “Well, it’s just…,” she adjusts her hood around her neck, “it seems more formal here this evening…” She almost wonders if it’s some kind of special event.

“I don’t enforce any kind of dress code here, Katniss.” He gives her a quick scan and another smile‒he hands them out like candies. “Besides, as usual, you look perfect…” It seems the ‘p’ word has slipped off his tongue without him realizing because he swallows before smoothly finishing, “To me.”

“Perfect?” she scoffs. “I don’t know about that,” she mutters, glancing away.

There’s a brief silence, then Peeta clears his throat and picks the conversation back up. “I, uh, dress up in the evenings,” he explains. “And Portia did my hair,” he adds when he notices Katniss’s eyes settling there. Katniss frowns.

Peeta chuckles. “She does that sometimes. Guess you can’t take the stylist out completely.”

Katniss gives him a halfhearted smile. For some reason, the idea of the gorgeous Portia running her fingers through Peeta’s silky golden curls unnerves her a little. Maybe it was she who put him in that ridiculous suit. But what would she be doing dressing him…?

“What?” Peeta asks, smirking. “Don’t you like it?” He runs a hand through his slicked hair, and it bounces right back into position.

Katniss shakes her head. “It’s not that. Just…adjusting to it.“

“That’s right. You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you, Katniss?” He obviously thinks this because of her drink orders. “And speaking of habit, will you have your usual, or are you feeling adventurous today, Miss Everdeen?”

“Adventurous?” She nibbles on her lower lip. “Uh, what did you have in mind?”

Peeta just smiles and says, “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Peeta,” she calls out, holding up a hand. He turns to look back. “What are you going to bring me?”

“You’ll see.” She thinks he winks at her, though it’s tough to tell in the lighting.

When Peeta returns, he brings a tall glass filled with a bright yellow liquid and sets it before her.

“What’s this?” she immediately asks. She’d never put something past her lips that she didn’t know what it was. “Is it alcohol?” She’s never touched the stuff, but she sniffs it, anyway. She doesn’t catch a hint of that strong, unmistakable scent some of her mother’s medications had, which is what she imagines alcohol smells like.

Peeta laughs. “Don’t worry, Katniss. I wouldn’t spike your drink without telling you. I’m not trying to get you drunk.”

“Okay.” At his word, she brings the glass to her lips and takes a cautious sip. It’s sweet, but not like the hot chocolate; it has more of a citrusy taste. It’s good, so she takes another larger gulp. And another.

Meanwhile, Peeta leans against the counter, watching her drink in amusement. He finds it cute how she always begins eating and drinking (especially new things) so tentatively, as if she’s a wild creature being offered a handout from a stranger, but once she discovers she likes something, she becomes unquenchable.

“It’s mostly fruit juices,” he tells her. “A few different kinds. Kind of a non-alcoholic cocktail, you might say. I call it a…,” he hesitates, “a dandelion.”

“Dandelion?” Her eyes shoot straight up to his.

“Yes,” Peeta affirms, smiling almost shyly.

“Does it have dandelions…?” she begins.

“No. Not real dandelions. I just call it that because the yellow color reminds me of them.”

Katniss nods, though honestly, she’s surprised Peeta’s ever heard of one. They don’t exactly make fine Capitol floral arrangements. Her eyes drop to the liquid, and as she stares into the swirling yellow void, she drifts back to simpler, happy times in the woods with her father.

After a bit, she begins to wonder again about the decor of the coffee shop. She decides to ask. “So, Peeta, why the dandelions everywhere? Drawn on the specials board. And the lights, they’re shaped like dandelions, right? Now this drink.”

“Ah, well…,” Peeta rubs the back of his neck. “Just…a…a fond memory from my childhood.”

Katniss doesn’t ask further questions, and Peeta goes on to tell her about Mellark’s Capitol Coffee and its nightly transformation.

“So, like I was telling you…this…,” he motions around, “isn’t really what I hoped the place would be.”

“No?” she asks just before drinking up the last of her dandelion. He shakes his head. “It seems successful from what I can see.”

“Oh, that’s not really the issue.”

“Then what?”

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s…just not what I imagined it to be. I mean look around…”

Katniss does, and her eyes settle on a couple vigorously kissing in a corner.

Turning back to him, “What did you imagine, Peeta?” she asks.

“Well, I’m glad you asked, Katniss.” He smiles so wide she imagines it must hurt his face. It would certainly hurt hers; scowling, or at least keeping a neutral expression is much less effort.

“I kind of envisioned something like a pâtisserie,” Peeta says, the French rolling flawlessly off his tongue in a strangely appealing way. He even uses an accent, and Katniss is impressed. “What I really wanted was to start a bakery, but there’s already a large chain around here, so I didn’t think it would do well.”

“You’re a baker?”

Peeta smiles. “Who did you think makes those cheese buns and pastries you’re so fond of? From scratch.”

Well, she hadn’t thought him. She doesn’t know why; she just supposed he was the face of the coffee shop and had workers back there that she hadn’t met. She tries to imagine him up to his elbows in flour, and it puts a smirk on her face.

“Speaking of which…” Peeta holds up a finger then heads back into the kitchen. He returns not long after with a plate of two cheese buns and another glass of dandelion.

“That wasn’t nec‒,” Katniss begins, but knowing it’s no use, she smiles and accepts it. She does, however, reach into her purse to pull out a tip for Peeta. When she slides it toward him, he places his hand over the money and hers. Katniss’s breath catches at his touch.

“I wouldn’t hear of it. You’re my best customer.”

Katniss’s eyes shoot briefly to the counter, her cheeks warming. “How can I be your best customer if you keep giving me free stuff?” she says, pinning him with her eyes. His cheeks are a bit rosy, too.

“Well, uh…” She smirks at his sudden lack of speech. “Because you’re a regular, and that’s what keeps us going,” he recovers nicely. “Besides, you don’t tip the proprietor of an establishment, Katniss,” he adds, giving her a wink.

Katniss doesn’t know whether he made up that rule or not, considering she’s not as versed in etiquette as say, someone like Effie Trinket, but she goes with it. Arguing with Peeta, after all, is as fruitless as arguing with a brick wall. Shaking her head slightly, she takes a bite of the cheese bun. It’s hot and fresh out of the oven, extra cheesy, too, and she wonders if he added some extra cheese today.

While Katniss eats and drinks, she listens to Peeta talk more about his beloved place.

“By day, the place is a closer approximation of what I wanted it to be,” he goes on to say, “but at night, it turns into…well, this. It becomes a hotspot. Mostly on weekends, but then there are plenty of Capitolites who either don’t work or go out partying on work nights anyway, so the place is rarely dead. Sometimes I feel like I run a nightclub instead of a coffee shop.”

She’d thought the same. “It’s certainly different,” Katniss agrees, her gaze falling on that couple again. They’ve begun pawing at each other like animals in addition to kissing. Her cheeks heat up yet again, and she looks away a moment before back to Peeta.

“Most importantly, I wanted a homey, family type of place,” he’s saying. “But of course, that didn’t work out.”

Katniss feels for him, truly.

“All this…this isn’t really my doing, you know. The patrons have kind of taken it upon themselves to change the atmosphere at night.” His mouth twists. “I suppose Cinna had a hand in it, too.”

Speaking of Cinna, Katniss hasn’t seen him tonight. She scans the room, assuming he’s out somewhere amongst the crowd. She finally spots him off in a corner, talking with a larger man in a fine suit and a couple of other particularly well-dressed patrons. Rather than being light and frivolous as most others are, their conversation appears heavy and serious.

She returns her attention to Peeta.

“The music, the alcohol, even my sudden…sense of style…” Peeta chuckles at that, although Katniss has always considered Peeta to be stylish, at least more so than her. “All Cinna’s ideas.”

So, Cinna did put him in the suit. Why would he do that? she wonders. Judging by the few times she’s witnessed, the two work so well together, and Cinna doesn’t seem like one to try and control his partner. But then again, she doesn’t really know him.

“Well, if you’re so unhappy about it, why don’t you talk to him?” is Katniss’s practical suggestion. “It’s your place mainly, right?”

“Yes, but we sort of have an agreement. I manage things during the day, and he does at night.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t discuss it with him.”

“Yeah…I could…” Peeta scratches behind his ear. “But I trust Cinna, I do. He knows what he’s doing, what’s best for the business. I mean, look,” he motions again. “He’s brought so many patrons in.”

Although it may be good for business, Katniss has decided she doesn’t like it here at night. It’s way too crowded and too loud; she can barely hear Peeta, and the whole atmosphere is giving her a tightness in her gut and a suffocating feeling as if she’s trapped in a box and slowly losing oxygen. She wishes Peeta hadn’t invited her here, yet she can’t seem to force herself out of the chair.

“It’s not like Cinna didn’t consult with me about the changes,” Peeta continues. “He proposed the ideas to me, and I-I went along with them.” He shrugs. “He did make some strong points, so I guess I should just deal with it.”

“What points?”

“Well, in addition to drumming up general business, I think he wants to get the attention of some…important people.”

“Important people? Like who?” Katniss clutches her half-empty glass and leans in slightly. She’s not normally the type to engage in gossip or really even care about other people’s business at all, but somehow, Peeta has her on the edge of her seat.

“For one, wealthy Capitolites who’ll think nothing of dropping a small fortune on alcohol and hors d'oeuvres,” Peeta says with a wry grin.

Just then, Portia passes by wearing a fuschia, skin-tight/mermaid style, sequined dress and carrying a tray of lavish-looking morsels. Peeta beckons her, and she holds the tray out to Katniss.

“You make hors d'oeuvres, too?” Katniss asks, taking one. “I didn’t know you could do any…fancy cooking.” She has to admit, she’s impressed.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Katniss.”

That’s certainly true. Up until tonight she didn’t even know he did the baking around here.

“I’ll bet,” she says sardonically. Right away, she realizes how that must have sounded. The comment was just her sarcastic‒bad‒personality coming out, but she hopes she hasn’t upset Peeta. Her eyes tentatively flit to him; he only seems amused. “Barista. Painter. Baker,” she nonchalantly rattles off the list. “And now a gourmet cook. Any other hidden talents?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” The wink he gives her causes her stomach to do a little flip. She hates when he does that, and when he smiles at her like he’s doing now, like she’s something special when she knows she isn’t. Ignoring him, she pops the hors d’oeuvre into her mouth and slowly chews. It’s rich and creamy as much Capitol food is.

“Well?”

She finishes chewing. “It’s good,” she says, licking the last bit of cream off her lips. She glances away when she notices Peeta staring, seemingly entranced by her action. Had she been seductive about it or something? She hadn’t realized she was even capable. “Um. Yeah, it’s good, but‒,” she chances to look at him again.

“But you’d still rather have a cheese bun,” Peeta finishes for her, a broad grin crossing his face.

“Uh, yeah, actually.”

“I figured.” He’s doing that thing again where he keeps smiling at her like he can’t stop.

“Because I’m a creature of habit, right?” she says, fiddling with her fingers.

“Right. That, and you really love them.”

Raising her eyes, Katniss smiles a little. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Loving cheese buns?”

“No,” she shakes her head at him, “being a creature of habit.”

He presses his lips together. “Not at all. But…maybe it wouldn’t hurt to broaden your horizons a little, Katniss. There’s a lot to see and do in this world.”

There is. And being born into privilege as she has been, she has the world at her fingertips. Of course, if she told Peeta where she really wants to go and what she really wants to do the most, he’d laugh in her face. Most Capitolites would, for what citizen in her right mind would want to leave the Capitol where one has everything at their feet in favor of a country cottage surrounded by nature.

“How do you know how much I’ve seen, Peeta?” she snips, unintentionally harsh. Peeta’s not fazed, though.

“I don’t. But a person can always see more, Katniss,” he says.

“What if she doesn’t want to?”

“That’s fine, then.”

She doesn’t know why she’s being argumentative because really, he’s right; there is much more she wants to see… It just…hits too close to home, she supposes‒that dream died along with her father…at least, she thought it had.

Deciding to change the subject, Katniss gently clears her throat. “So, uh, who else does Cinna hope to attract to the coffee shop?” She’s surprised herself; she never talks this much. It’s Peeta’s doing, surely. Not only is he smooth with words, but apparently, he can coax speech out of others.

“Well…,” Peeta begins.

It’s then that they’re interrupted by a shrill female cackle. They both turn to see a middle-aged woman, slightly toasted from the looks of it, wearing a huge headdress and covered in jewels. Katniss and Peeta watch her stumble over to the bar a few seats down from them, and then she beckons Peeta by curling a long, pointy finger.

“Friend of yours?” Katniss asks, sounding more disgruntled than she intended. It’s just a bit unnerving to see the woman leering at Peeta that way.

“Uh, no,” he says. “But I have seen her in here a few times. I’ll be right back.” Peeta heads over to take her order.

“What’ll it be, ma’am?” she hears Peeta ask in that sweet tone of his.

Although she’s close enough to hear everything, Katniss tries to ignore the interchange. She takes a drink from her cup, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she catches the woman leaning over. She reaches out to pinch Peeta’s bicep.

“Hmm…how much for you, honey?” Katniss hears the woman slur, and she nearly chokes on the liquid in her mouth. Okay, so she’s more than slightly toasted; she’s completely wasted.

Suddenly, Katniss has an almost sick feeling that could be jealousy, but she dismisses it, assuring herself that Peeta would never go home with some random older patron who wants to purchase him. And of course, he’s too good to take advantage of an inebriated woman. Right?

She keeps listening.

“Oh.” Peeta chuckles good-naturedly, though he’s clearly caught off guard. “I’m not for sale, ma’am,” he tells her directly.

Good boy, Katniss thinks, finding her mental response rather odd. After all, why should she care what Peeta does? He’s not her guy, and this is the Capitol. What’s a little prostitution? At least they’re both adults, which isn’t always the case…

“But how about one of our famous pastries?” Peeta deflects. He must be looking out for her, thinking eating something will help soak up the substantial amount of alcohol she must have ingested.

Yet the woman persists. “Not for sale?” she exclaims in her high-pitched, alcohol-saturated affected accent that’s like nails on a chalkboard to Katniss. “Everything’s for sale if you have enough money.” And apparently, everyone, too, according to her. Katniss discreetly watches the woman lean in to get a better look at Peeta. She flattens her palms and runs both hands up and down Peeta’s lapels. “Weren’t you the Victor a few years back, honey?”

Katniss isn’t thrilled with the fact that she’s touching him, but it is rather ridiculous. She thinks Peeta is a Victor? Either this woman is extremely misinformed‒perhaps she doesn’t even watch The Hunger Games–or she’s so incredibly drunk that Peeta has morphed into a former Victor to her. Maybe next he’ll become a mutt, and she’ll run out screaming. Whatever the case, it’s a little sad; although she’s sure Peeta will let her down easy. Katniss rolls her eyes.

“No, ma’am. I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Peeta says, still polite as can be. “But seriously, you should try one of our pastries. They’re the best around, loved Capitol-wide. A pastry and a cup of strong, black coffee can’t be beat.”

The woman groans loudly and slumps over the counter. Apparently, she’s not hungry for food right now. But Peeta is an excellent salesman and manages to tempt her with something aside from his body‒his amazing selection of sweets. She finally chooses one and he retrieves it for her, along with the coffee, but then, to Katniss’s disgust, she opens her blue-lined lips as if expecting Peeta to feed her.

Oh, God. Katniss cringes. He’s not really going to…, is he? How’s Peeta going to get out of this one?

She expected him to be more creative about getting out of it, but it works, nonetheless, when Peeta feigns being beckoned by someone. He calls out “Be right there,” pushes the plate with the pastry on it toward the woman, and darts off.

Katniss places a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing when Peeta comes over. She’s softened, however, by the look of embarrassment on his face.

“So, how often does that happen?” Katniss deadpans.

“Never.” He rubs the back of his neck. “That’s never happened before.”

“Well, at least she thought you looked like a Victor,” Katniss states plainly. “I guess that’s a compliment.” Although certainly not every Victor is attractive, many of them have some kind of appeal.

“Yeah. I guess so…,” he says, uncertain.

“Not that she could see straight,” Katniss quips.

“Probably not.” Peeta grins. But I wonder which one she thinks I look like?” He taps his chin, considering it a moment. “Maybe…Gloss?”

“No,” Katniss responds immediately. “You look nothing like Gloss.”

Peeta raises a brow. “I’m even more handsome, right?” And grinning, he leans forward.

Katniss is onto Peeta’s game. He’s not being arrogant; he just wants to get her to compliment him. But she’s not going to do it. Her first thought is to say something outright insulting, not because she doesn’t find Peeta attractive‒that’s definitely not it‒but because, she supposes, she doesn’t want him to know just how attractive she does find him, and also, negativity comes easier to her than sincerity.

Thankfully, Peeta digresses. “So, you were asking about important people, right? Well, as our lovely intoxicated friend mentioned, there are the Victors…”

“The Victors come in?” Katniss asks, incredulous. She’s not one of those Capitolites who gets starstricken over whoever the Victor for the year is, but it’s curious.

“Yes, we’ve had a handful of Victors in here,” Peeta says.

On second thought, it’s not really so far-fetched. Some of the more desirable Victors are frequent visitors to the Capitol, and since they’re mentors, there’s always an abundance of them around during the ceremonies leading up to the Games. It’s only natural they’d have someplace to hang out, too.

Peeta goes on to mention the Victors he’s encountered, including Johanna Mason, District 7, Victor of the 71st Hunger Games.

Katniss remembers her. She was the one who acted like a weakling in order to fool her competitors and only much later, when the numbers had substantially dwindled, revealed how skilled and vicious she actually was.

“Johanna Mason is…interesting…” Peeta raises his blue eyes skyward then proceeds to tell Katniss the story of approaching her to warn her about keeping her clothes on in his establishment…

*** Johanna Mason gives him a long look up and down and shrugs. “It’s hot in here. What’s it to you, Blondie?”

“Well, it’s my place,” he speaks politely but firmly while doing his best to keep his eyes only on the face of the half-naked woman, “and it’s a public restaurant…”

He begins to suggest he could adjust the temperature setting, but she cuts him off.

“So? It’s the Capitol, isn’t it?” she argues. “And the Capitol’s all about luxury and pleasures and debauchery and shit, right?”

“Well, that’s…”

Johanna scoffs. “What’s the big deal? I don’t hear no one complainin’. And it’s not like I’m totally naked. You a prude, Blondie? Gay?”

“No. No,” Peeta asserts. “But this is a classy place, Miss Mason…” He can tell right away what Johanna thinks of that, and she makes her discontent known by laughing in his face and flipping him off before defiantly moving to another table and turning her back on him. She keeps her clothes on, though.

*** Katniss’s mouth forms a tiny ‘o’ in response to Peeta’s tale, and then, the corner of her lips tilt slightly. It was amusing, but Katniss is glad she missed it.

“I’d add ‘spirited’ and ‘sassy’ to Johanna Mason’s list of descriptors,” Peeta says. Katniss laughs a little at that.

“Oh, and when he’s in the Capitol, Finnick Odair is a regular here.”

“Finnick Odair? From District 4?”

Katniss remembers him, too. The youngest Victor of the Hunger Games, the bronze-haired sea god with eyes to match his watery world, master of the trident. He’s handsome and his sexual prowess is rumored to rival his combat skills‒it’s always a toss-up whether he’s a better fighter or lover. Speaking of the latter, Katniss doesn’t know how many women he’s bedded at his young age (barely older than her), but she’s sure there’s throngs because he’s as good as gold here in the Capitol.

“Yeah. He comes in probably two-three times a week when he’s around,” Peeta says, “usually with a woman or two on his arm. And if he’s alone, more often than not, he finds a companion to leave with.”

Katniss nods.

“Then, of course, there’s Snow…,” Peeta goes on.

Katniss’s eyes widen a tick, and her lips part. “What about President Snow? You’ve met him?”

“Sort of, yeah. He’s been in here several times.”

Katniss hasn’t seen President Snow in person, herself. When her father was killed at the Nut, she thought Snow might have shown up to pay tribute to all her father’s years of loyal service, but he only sent one of his officials to present them with a commemorative plaque.

“Doesn’t come in often, though,” Peeta tells her. “He usually sends someone to pick up his order. But he does occasionally stop in for a drink and an appetizer. With his guards, of course. Oh, and he always has his food and drink tested before he takes even a single sip or bite.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Katniss says. “He’s clever to do so.” Because surely, a president such as Snow would have enemies‒a man doesn’t stay in power for so long by being stupid enough to trust just anyone who comes along.

The woman returns, interrupting them again. “So, if you’re not going to take care of my needs, honey, then can you direct me to someone who will?” she says to Peeta.

“Oh. Um…” He scans around then points. The woman turns her head to follow his finger, staggering a little as she does, and Peeta reaches out to steady her. Probably a mistake. The woman doesn’t try to jump him, though, and Katniss is surprisingly relieved. “There seems to be a group of handsome men over there,” he tells her. “Why don’t you head over and mingle a little, strike up a conversation.”

The woman turns back to him, her thin blue lips curling up. She reaches out to grab a hunk of the flesh of his cheek. “Thanks, honey,” she slurs. She gives his cheek a pinch before heading off in the direction of the group of men.

Peeta turns sheepishly back to Katniss; she has a baleful expression on.

“Peeta, do you run a…a prostitution ring?!” she exclaims, her face flushed.

“No!” Peeta shakes his head vigorously. “I-!” He holds up his hand in a conciliatory fashion. “That…that just happens sometimes…”

“I thought you said it never had.” Katniss eyes him suspiciously.

“Well, I mean,” he adjusts his collar, “never to me. But a lot of people hang out here at night, Katniss, and that sort of thing…is bound to happen.”

She understands. This is the Capitol, and casual sexual encounters are as commonplace as going out for a fancy dinner. She just thought Peeta’s place might have been different…

“I don’t condone it, Katniss,” Peeta begins. She shivers slightly when he touches her shoulder. “This is a prime example of what I meant, about the place turning out different than I thought.”

She listens as he goes on. “Sometimes I just feel like…I don’t know…” He pauses, searching for the right word. “A pawn. Like some kind of pawn in a game.”

That’s a bit strong. “What do you mean?”

Peeta shrugs. “I don’t know. Did you ever get a feeling…like a storm’s brewing…like something’s about to happen, but you’re completely in the dark?” He stares out across what’s become a makeshift dance floor. “That maybe something big’s going on, and you’re part of it, but a very small, expendable part?”

She has no idea what Peeta’s talking about; he’s being cryptic again, speaking nonsense, and she tells him so. He simply stares into her eyes.

“What are you saying, Peeta?” Katniss prods. She gasps when he takes hold of her arm and tugs.

Only protesting a second, she goes along willingly, allowing Peeta to drag her off to the side into a dark, quiet corner. Here, she can barely make out the outline of his facial features, but she can sense him inching closer. She catches his eyes briefly dropping to her lips when a strobe flashes across his face.

There’s no real reason for it, but she suspects he might kiss her. Maybe because he’s so close right now…or maybe because they’ve been flirting a little; at least, she thinks that’s what they’ve been doing all this time, but she’s far from an expert. She’s not sure how she feels about the idea of Peeta kissing her, but she doesn’t move away.

There’s no need to decide how she feels, though, because he only leans in, lowering his voice to just above a whisper, “You wouldn’t believe some of the things that go on here…”

“What sort of things?” she whispers back, her curiosity piqued.

“I can confide in you, right, Katniss?” he asks, those blue eyes, darker and dilated in the lighting, piercing through her.

“Yes,” she says.

Alright, what has she gotten herself into? What is he about to confide in her?

Peeta tells her of the ‘deals’ that go on here, the exchanges of goods and favors, the secret rendezvous, and the whisperings… Although she can imagine, she asks about the kind of deals, and Peeta explains that there are all kinds, from exchanges of jewelry or substances to alter the mind and body, those meant for euphoria or function to sexual favors and the direct selling of human beings for either sex or labor. He tells her that Cinna and he put a stop to any illegal transactions, but then, not much is illegal around here‒the Capitol is a place of comfort and privilege and pleasure.

Peeta pulls back to study Katniss’s face, and she’s sure it’s impassive.

Honestly, not much of this surprises Katniss. She knows the kinds of things that happen in the Capitol. Does Peeta think she’s too pure to understand? Did he really think she’d be shocked by what he’s told her? She supposes she did react kind of strongly when she thought he permitted or even encouraged prostitution here.

She’s not sure what to say to him. She can tell Peeta doesn’t like what happens in his place of business, but what could he do about it, really? He could ask people to leave, and they’d just go somewhere else to ‘conduct their business,’ that’s about it. It’s not like he can stop it from happening, altogether. Who knew Peeta had such high moral values?

“That happens everywhere,” Katniss says, deciding on honesty.

Peeta thins his lips. “Yeah. I guess so. But there’s more, Katniss…”

They’re interrupted yet again, this time by that passionate pair Katniss was watching earlier. They’re undoubtedly heading off to be alone when the giggling female bumps into Katniss, knocking her forward. Peeta wraps his arms around Katniss’s waist to catch her, and her hands end up flat against his chest.

“Sorry,” the female mutters as she clasps the man’s hand and drags him off elsewhere.

Katniss stares up into Peeta’s eyes. His head’s tilted, his lips parted slightly in surprise. There’s a look in his eyes she can’t quite place; she’s never been looked upon in quite this way; it feels somewhere in between attraction and adoration. His fingers curl at her waist, pressing in ever so slightly. A chill runs through her, and she’s cold and hot all at once, ready to completely unravel. This is all happening too fast; she should pull away, but…

Peeta sucks in his bottom lip then takes a breath. “Katniss, I‒there’s something I want to…,” he starts, still holding onto her.

Whatever he has to say, she doesn’t want to hear it. It’s all just too much. She shouldn’t be here in this place, in the arms of a stranger. She works up the motivation to yank herself away, and she puts some distance between them.

“Katniss, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” she says, holding a hand up to prevent him from either saying something or coming closer. “But, it’s getting late…I have to go.” Before he can say a word, she spins around and is gone.

*** Katniss races home, her heart beating through her chest the entire way. She calms down a little by the time she makes it inside her high-rise apartment just off the main avenue of the Capitol, and she gets it together fully as she takes the elevator to the top floor, to the penthouse, where she resides with her family.

When she steps through the door, the place is darkened. The crystal chandelier is off, the area being lit only by moonlight coming in through the tall, glass windows and a single lamp on the table beside the snow-white, semicircular couch. Her mother isn’t around; she’s surely in bed by now as it’s nearly midnight, but from across the room, she can see that Primrose has fallen asleep on the couch, probably waiting up for her to get home.

Katniss goes over. She removes the book from Prim’s chest and places it on the end table; then she kneels on the carpet and leans over her. Brushing aside her long, golden hair, she places a soft kiss on her forehead. “Little Duck. Wake up, Little Duck,” she speaks softly.

It’s an old nickname‒one day when Prim was very small, she’d dressed up in their mother’s clothing. Naturally, they were way too big, and when she’d tucked in the shirt, the back stuck out like a duck tail, so Katniss took to calling her ‘Little Duck.’ At 19, Prim is a woman now, but to Katniss, she’ll always be her Little Duck.

Katniss gives her Little Duck a soft shake. “Mmm…” Prim stirs and opens her blue eyes. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi.” Katniss smiles. “Why don’t you go to your bed? You’ll be much more comfortable.”

“Okay,” Prim mutters drowsily, and Katniss helps her to stand on her sleep-weakened legs. She still can’t believe she’s nearly her height now.

Prim straightens her nightdress and rubs the sleep from her eyes. “How was your night?” she asks.

“Fine,” Katniss replies. That is, if ‘fine’ means nearly kissing a guy she might (probably) likes, then running off on him like a child when he’s about to say something possibly important to her.

Prim seems to be waiting to see if she’ll say more; she’s always been attuned to her, and she does tell Prim more than anyone else. Except, now there’s Peeta… Of course, she can’t talk to Peeta about Peeta, and she’s not ready to tell Prim about him, either, so she simply tucks back Prim’s hair and says, “Goodnight, Little Duck.”

“Goodnight, Katniss.”

*** After her embarrassment, Katniss doesn’t return to the coffee shop for a few days. She’s gotten into this terrible habit of running from Peeta like a frightened fawn in the forest. She doesn’t know what’s the matter with her, but she’s decided it needs to stop.

The next time she goes, Peeta is dressed casually, this time, in earth tones, browns and tans, and likewise, he is casual with her. He doesn’t attempt to reveal any more coffee shop secrets, nor does he touch her. He’s friendly, but he keeps the flirting to a minimum. In fact, he doesn’t say anything that makes her feel remotely different from any other customer in the place, aside from his initial remarks…

When she first arrived, Peeta automatically brought her hot chocolate and her favorite accompanying sweet pastry. “I, uh, saw you coming,” he told her sheepishly. And then, more confidently, he added, “I know what you like.”

She hesitates, staring down at the drink and pastry.

“Uh, I’m sorry to assume. Would you like something else?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “this is perfect.” Perfect? Had she actually just used the word ‘perfect’ with him? It takes her back to a few nights ago when he said she looked ‘perfect…’

“Good,” he says, uncertainly. He’s beginning to tell her to enjoy when she cuts him off.

“And what about you, Peeta? What do you like?”

Peeta seems surprised. Possibly because of what happened the other day or maybe it’s because they haven’t played the ‘Real/Not Real’ game in a while, and she’s not normally the one to initiate the exchange of information when they do.

Blue eyes meet silver a moment, and a slow smile creeps up on Peeta’s face. “You aren’t playing the game correctly, Katniss.” He wags a finger.

Katniss rolls her eyes. Speaking of which…

“Fine. You like coffee. Real or Not Real?”

“Not Real. I prefer tea,” he tells her.

“You take sugar in it. Real or Not Real?”

“Not Real. No sugar.”

Damn. Maybe one of these days she’ll get one right.

Her eyes drop away, and she glances down at her feet, being reminded of what she’d carried in. Oh, right.

“Oh, Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not tea, but I brought you something,” she says, lifting the canvas sack with both hands and plunking it down on the counter.

“What’s this?” Peeta asks.

“The meat I promised. You seemed to want it so badly, so I made a point to go hunting this morning.” She smirks. Truth of the matter is, she was feeling she needed to make amends for yet again being so rude to him, so she’d left at first light, snuck into District 7, despite the increased Peacekeeper volume for the upcoming Hunger Games, and bagged him some fresh game. She doesn’t know if he’s going to like what she brought, and the whole thing did start out as a joke, but she really wants him to experience it.

“Don’t worry, they’re not bloody corpses. Just packages of meat. I skinned and cleaned them for you.

“Them?” Peeta’s mouth drops open, but she can see the relief in his face over not having a bag of mangled animal carcasses thrown onto his nice, clean counter; although he’s probably going to have to wipe that counter down, anyway, because her bag wasn’t the cleanest. “Wow. Um. You really…shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

She wants to laugh. Peeta, ever the kind, polite one, doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, but it’s obvious he’s dreading tasting the meat. “Oh, it was no trouble at all.” She attempts a genuine smile, but she’s sure it comes out devious. “Call it payment for all those free cheese buns and pastries.”

And then there’s that. This isn’t meant to torment him, though Peeta might think so. She really does feel the need to repay him in some way for all the free goodies, and she didn’t know another way.

Peeta wets his lips. “Well, great. Thanks. Deer, huh?”

She senses his hesitation as he reaches out for the bag.

“Yes. Oh, I also threw in a rabbit and a tree rat.”

“Tree rat?” Peeta’s face contorts into an expression that’s part-cringe, part-bewilderment.

“Yeah.” She cocks her head slightly to the side studying him. “Not much meat, but they’re tasty enough.”

Peeta’s trying so hard to hide his horror, but today, his typically great poker face is completely failing him. “Uh, okay. Thanks…thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.” She pushes the heavy bag–which she had to drag part of the way here but made sure to brush off before bringing it inside‒toward him, and he hefts it over his shoulder like it’s nothing.

After a couple of steps toward the kitchen, he turns back. “Oh, uh, which one is which? Are they labeled or anything?”

She smirks at him.

“You’re not telling, huh?”

Katniss shakes her head slowly from side to side. “No, but I’ve numbered them. Just tell me which you like best.”

Peeta nods. “Alright. I’ll just…go freeze this.”

“Now, don’t forget to try it,” she jabs a finger at him. A tiny smile spreads across her face as she adds, more sincerely, “I really want you to try it. I think you’ll like it.”

He smiles warmly back at her. “Okay, Katniss. I promise to try it.” And then, he does something strange…he holds three fingers up in a kind of salute… She feels like she’s seen this gesture before, but she’s not sure where.

“What’s that?” she asks, looking at his hand.

“I’m just giving you my word, Katniss.”

*** Going to Mellark’s has become part of Katniss’s day now. She always has something to drink and eats either a cheese bun or some other pastry or two, and sometimes, she even has a small lunch there. One time she teased Peeta that she was going to gain a ton of weight, and he only reassured her that it wouldn’t matter to him even if she did. She’s learned to accept Peeta’s remarks and compliments, no longer getting as embarrassed by them, though she usually pretends to ignore them altogether.

Katniss still hasn’t told her mother or even Prim about Peeta Mellark. They know she goes to the coffee shop, but they don’t know why she goes so often. And she’s too embarrassed to admit it. She’s started bringing sweets and cheese buns home, though, mainly for Prim, and those seem to satisfy and negate any need for explanation‒Peeta’s baked goods speak for themselves, and they’re loud and clear and delicious.

Still, she’s been careful not to mention the guy who made them for her, nor that he often throws in freebies when she’s not looking… Speaking of which, after a few times of arguing with him about that, Katniss gave up, knowing Peeta’s never going to change and that he even seems to get some kind of sadistic glee out of ticking her off sometimes.

Katniss shakes her head. She can’t seem to stay angry at him for long, even with as infuriating as he can be. One dimpled smile or flash of innocence in his blue puppy eyes and she’s a goner…

That being said, she doesn’t know exactly how she feels about Peeta. She could talk to Prim about her feelings, but no, it’s not the time to speak up about him. Not when there’s nothing really to tell. If this‒whatever it is‒continues, she’ll surely mention him one day, and when she does, she expects Prim will ask all sorts of questions like: ‘Is he cute?’ and ‘Do you like him?’‒questions she doesn’t want to answer and isn’t even sure she has an answer to yet…

Okay, so, yes, she’s long since decided that Peeta is cute, and as far as liking him goes, well, she doesn’t even know if he likes her. When a guy talks to you and smiles at you a lot and gives you goodies, does it mean he likes you? She feels stupid for not knowing, especially at her age, but it’s not like she’s had much (or any) experience with this sort of thing. And Peeta is, well, different than most guys. Katniss sighs. She might be a lost cause when it comes to dating and romance, but her gut doesn’t often lie to her. And her gut seems to be telling her that the odds are definitely in favor of her liking him, and there’s a strong possibility that he likes her, too…

*** And so, Katniss continues to go to the coffee shop. And she and Peeta fall into a comfortable rhythm. She drinks and eats. They talk. And when it’s slow, Peeta sketches in a notebook. Sometimes he shows her his drawings, other times, he’s careful not to let her catch a peek. It doesn’t bother her, though. She understands the need for privacy more than most.

The sketches Peeta has shown her, though, are amazing. They’re usually of nature, which she can appreciate, or of items around the coffee shop. Occasionally, he draws a person. He’s done a portrait of Cinna, Portia, and a few of the coffee shop’s more memorable patrons.

It’s nice that Peeta’s creative, thinks Katniss. Around here, the only people who really get the opportunity to be creative are stylists and Gamemakers, and then of course, there’s personal fashion, those who dye their skin and hair various hues or have plastic surgery and who seek out the most outlandish hairstyles and clothing choices. It’s become so commonplace in the Capitol that, although it might shock visitors from the districts, it never phases Katniss, no matter what she might see.

It’s been nearly a week since she brought him the venison, and presently, Katniss is seated at the counter finishing off a fluffy cream-filled croissant that Peeta whipped up. And Peeta is sketching again. She glances over to see him intently focused upon his latest creation, whatever it might be.

“Someday, I’d like to pursue my art a little more,” he speaks up out of the blue, his hand still flying across the page. “Not that I’d ever make it as an artist, but if I did, I’d want to do more than fill the coffee shop and Capitol homes with meaningless wall adornments.” He comes to a halt, closes his sketchbook, and looks up at her. “I’d want my art to have meaning, make a statement, you know.”

Katniss nods, although she doesn’t really know. She’s not sure how exactly he would go about doing that, but she understands the notion of wanting a purpose.

Peeta studies her a moment before clearing his throat. “Maybe I could…show you more of my art…someday.”

“Okay,” Katniss says automatically, wiping her hands of crumbs onto a cloth napkin.

“I have some finished paintings…,” she hears him suck in some air, “upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Katniss’s eyes land on his.

Peeta nods. “Yeah.” And all of a sudden, the rate at which he’s speaking increases. “That’s where I live. I have an apartment upstairs.” He motions in that general direction. “It’s relatively small,” he shrugs, “but at least I have it all to myself.”

“Oh.” Katniss stares down into her dandelion. It was hot today, so she’d wanted something cool. She spins the straw around, pondering what he’s saying. Was his remark leading?

“Maybe I could…show you my art, and my place…and maybe…make you some dinner sometime.”

Katniss’s eyebrows raise as her jaw drops. She finally gets it. He’s asking her on a date, isn’t he?

Clueless as she may be about romantic things, Peeta’s uncharacteristic nervousness is unmistakable, and his intent is clear. So, what if she said yes? If she said yes and went upstairs with him to look at his art and have dinner, would he expect something else from her after? It seems fast. They haven’t even kissed yet, and now he wants to take her to his place? What is he hoping for exactly? Surely, not…that. But then again, he’s a man, and she’s a woman, and they’re in their twenties. How is he supposed to know she’s never even kissed a guy, let alone been with one intimately? And she’d feel ridiculous admitting it.

But then she recalls something her father told her years ago. Before he died, as she was approaching adolescence, he had a talk with her about boys. Yes, it was her father, not her mother who’d told her everything she needed to know. He hadn’t been awkward about it or beat around the bush; he’d shot straight. He’d told her all the details, how everything worked, and then, he’d said something that really empowered her and stuck with her: He’d told her to never let a man take from her what she didn’t want to give. He’d said that it was her decision to make, that only when she was ready and willing was it okay and that no one should ever make her feel weird or wrong about saying no.

She returns her attention back to Peeta. Peeta’s jaw is set, and his cheeks have gone rosy. She watches him swallow thickly, and she’s sure he’s dying in wait of a response from her. But she doesn’t know what to say. She assumes his invite is innocent, and even if it is a date, she’s not worried about him trying to force anything on her. Peeta has shown her time and again that he’s a gentleman. Not that they’ve ever really been alone together, but her gut tells her she can trust him.

There are a couple of problems, though. One, she doesn’t want to send the wrong message. It’s not that she doesn’t like him; she’s pretty certain she does at this point, but more than that, she wouldn’t know how to act if they were alone in his place together. Not that her father hasn’t taught her the basics, but she’s never…attempted them in real life. So, if things suddenly turned…romantic, she wouldn’t have the faintest idea where to begin. But surely Peeta would…

Peeta suddenly groans. “Oh, Katniss, I’m sorry. That was probably the worst thing I could have said. It didn’t come out right. I was just thinking we could…get to know one another. You know, in another capacity. Outside of the coffee shop.”

She grips the edge of the bar. “You mean like a date?”

“Yes, exactly. Like a date…But we don’t have to go to my place if you’re uncomfortable,” he adds. “We can go someplace else, anywhere you want.”

A heavy silence passes…

“Well, say something,” Peeta finally pleads, his breath coming out as if he’s been holding it all this time.

“I’m not good at saying something,” she mumbles, looking away.

“Okay.” Peeta nods. “Let me put it another way, then.” He takes a deep breath. “You like me. Real or Not Real?”

Katniss’s eyes dart back and forth, her entire body beginning to tremble.

“Katniss?” he inquires, an edge of concern to his tone. He touches her forearm lightly, and she jerks back. Hesitantly, she meets his eyes, and his search hers, probably for an explanation to her strange behavior.

“I…I…I’m sorry,” she stammers.

“It’s okay…”

Clenching her fists beneath the counter, she fixes Peeta with her gaze. “I don’t…really know how I feel, Peeta. I’m just so…confused.”

She knows immediately that she’s hurt him. He looks as if she’s just ripped his heart out and stomped on it, even though she never said she didn’t like him. But of course he’d be hurt. She’s been coming around a lot, acting like she likes him this entire time, and then she goes and tells him she doesn’t know. Maybe he thinks she’s just been coy, that it was all an act. But it wasn’t. She just hasn’t been able to pin down exactly what she’s feeling or what she wants.

Tentatively, she looks at Peeta, and he thins his lips. “Well, let me know when you figure it out,” he says wearily, and with that, he turns and walks into the kitchen.

***

Katniss leaves that afternoon feeling confused and conflicted. Her chest aches, and remembering the pained expression on Peeta’s face only makes it worse. How many times has she run out on him now? And he’s always kind; he never gives her the cold shoulder the next time he sees her. The way he walked off on her just now is the coldest he’s been. She wonders how long he’ll put up with her. Maybe he’s already done.

She could definitely use some advice, so as much as she hates to wake Prim from a restful slumber when sleep eluded her for so many years after their father died, she decides to make an exception this time.

Prim turns on her lamp and springs into action, sitting up in bed and patting the spot beside her. “Katniss, what’s wrong? Is something on your mind?”

“Yeah.” Katniss takes a seat beside Prim. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but…can we talk?”

“Of course.”

Katniss keeps things vague, but she basically outlines her entire situation for Prim, and Prim is a great listener. She doesn’t tease her or berate her; she’s simply understanding.

“I think you’re scared, Katniss,” Prim says after she’s told her everything. “And it’s understandable considering what happened to Mom when Dad died, and the only experience you’ve really had with guys is when that boy in your high school tried to kiss you and you decked him.” They share a laugh over that.

“But seriously,” Prim goes on, “it sounds like you really like him, and he definitely, definitely likes you from the sounds of it, so maybe you should give him a chance.”

Katniss smiles and strokes Prim’s hair. “I should wake you up more often, Little Duck.”

They exchange another smile, and Katniss kisses Prim’s cheek before tucking her back in.

“You can join me if you want,” Prim suggests, holding the covers open for Katniss.

“No, that’s okay. I’m feeling much better. Thanks for everything, Little Duck.”

“Anytime.”

*** Unable to wait any longer, Katniss returns to the coffee shop a mere two days later, hoping that’s enough time for Peeta to have cooled off and forgiven her. When she sees him, he’s cordial, but something is amiss. She’s working up the courage to say what she’s come to when he speaks first.

“I’m sorry about what I said, Katniss. I didn’t think. All that just flew out of my mouth because I thought you liked me, and I’ve just liked you for a long time, and…” At that, Peeta stops short and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck

A long time? They haven’t known each other for all that long…maybe a month.

“Do you think we can…just forget it ever happened?”

He wants to forget…?

“If…if that’s what you want,” she says.

Peeta’s lips part, and he presses them together. “Well, I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want you to stop coming here because I misread things.” You didn’t misread things, Peeta… “I want to at least stay friends. We’re friends, aren’t we? Real or Not Real?”

She thinks a moment, and with a bob of her head, she tells him, “Real.” But she’s not answering his most recent question about friendship, but the one before, albeit a little belated, the one about liking him.

“Good,” he says with a smile, although she gets the impression he still feels bad. “Now, what would you like today?”

She attempts to be flirtatious by asking him to surprise her, but she’s awful at this stuff, and he’s not picking up on it. He simply says okay and turns toward the kitchen.

“Wait, Peeta, don’t go,” she calls out. Surprised, he turns around, and she feels utterly ridiculous. “What I mean to say is…before, when I said ‘Real,’ I wasn’t…I wasn’t talking about…” She can’t seem to force the words out of her mouth; they’re sticking like that sweet taffy she once tried when a group of traveling entertainers came into the city. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to psych herself up.

There’s a sudden voice in her head barking, ‘Say it, say it!’ And so, she does…

“Peeta, when I said ‘Real,’ I didn’t mean to say that we’re friends. Well, yes, we are, but I was referring to your other question…” Her eyes flit away. “The one about liking you.”

When she finally does look at Peeta, he appears as though he’s gone into a tracker jacker-induced haze. “Uh, Peeta, did you hear me?” She waves a hand in front of his face, and he comes out of it, his rapidly growing smile practically splitting his face.

He’s reaching out for her face now, she thinks, but it’s as if he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They finally land on her shoulders. “Really Katniss? You really like me?” He’s grinning like an idiot, and he sounds like a little boy, but she’s smiling, too.

“Yeah.” She nods.

She can tell he wants to kiss her, but he probably doesn’t want to embarrass her in public, so instead, his hands move to cup her face and he presses his forehead against hers. A content smile on his lips, he shuts his eyes, and hers flutter shut, too as she takes in the warmth of his hands on her cheeks. It’s been a long time since Katniss has had a moment as happy as this one. As business has been booming leading up to the Games, Peeta’s been busy, and they haven’t been able to go on their date. But Katniss drops by everyday to see him, anyway, and they steal what moments they can with one another. He’s invited her to watch the Reaping at Capitol Coffee and further extended an invitation for the Tribute Parade, the interviews, and the actual Games, but he insists that those don’t count. He’s adamant that their first date is not going to involve a hundred other people and consist of watching The Hunger Games. She has to agree with him there.

It’s the day of the Reaping, and Katniss is seated at the counter with Peeta close by. They’re watching a large projected image of Caesar Flickerman talking with Seneca Crane on the back of Peeta’s wall as is everyone else in the place. And Capitol Coffee is packed. Peeta even had to turn people out, but of course, he saved a spot for Katniss.

Along with everyone else, Katniss and Peeta watch the footage of each district’s Reaping ceremony. The group is an interesting mix this year. Of course, the Career districts garnered the typical aggressive, highly-trained eighteen-year-olds, but there seem to be some other wild cards with intriguing skills.

When it comes to District 11, and a little twelve-year-old by the name of Rue is reaped, it hits a little too close to home for Katniss. It’s because she reminds her so much of Prim. Not her look, exactly, but her size and something in her eyes… Katniss knows there’s no fear of Prim ever being reaped as a Capitolite, but it still manages to unsettle her.

Peeta senses Katniss’s unease and places a hand over hers. “You okay?” he whispers.

Katniss nods, although she isn’t exactly okay. Seeing that young, dark-skinned girl reaped just really did something to her. It put her stomach off. But why should it be so? She’s been watching the Hunger Games for years; she’s seen plenty of reapings and numerous violent deaths, more than a few being young children like Rue… In fact, they usually are the ones to be slaughtered first…

“Uh, Peeta, could I have something to eat, something…easy on the stomach?”

“Are you feeling sick?” he asks, concerned.

“No,” she half-lies. At least, it isn’t a physical sickness. She just really hates seeing young children reaped, and this one especially got to her. Why, oh why does she have to remind her so much of Prim…

“I’m okay. I just want something light,” is all she says.

“Would you like some bread, Katniss?”

“Bread?” Katniss likes bread, though she doesn’t eat it often, at least not by itself.

“Yes, Katniss, bread.” He smiles. Somehow, Peeta’s smile cheers her up a little. “As you know, I’m a baker, and bread just so happens to be my specialty.”

“Okay. Plain bread?”

He nods. “If you want. I could also add something to it.”

He starts to tell her about the types of bread he can make, but it’s too overwhelming, so she finally asks him to choose, saying she trusts him. His instincts have been good so far, after all.

Peeta goes off to bake, and not long after, Katniss can smell it. The scent seems to permeate the air, wrapping its invisible arms around her in a hug. As foolish as it might sound, the bread makes her feel lighter and happy while at the same time making her salivate. He places it before her, and she’s in awe. It’s perfect. She’s never imagined describing food so highly, aside from, perhaps lamb stew, but this bread really is…perfect. It’s hearty, the perfect shape, has the perfect smell, and it’s even covered in raisins and nuts.

“Something wrong?” Peeta asks.

She shakes her head and continues to stare at the beautiful loaf until she hears him bark out a laugh. She looks up to see him smirking, and she scowls.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you appreciating my food, Katniss, but are you just going to stare at it all day long?”

Her scowl hardens.

Peeta just chuckles. “Come on, Katniss. You act like you’ve never seen bread before. Now, you’ll want to eat it while it’s warm. Fresh out of the oven, that’s when it’s best.”

She forgets her annoyance over him making fun of her and focuses on the bread. Peeta smiles as he watches her raise it to just below her nose and sniff it before biting in.

It’s initially crispy, then soft and moist, and oh, so delectable. Katniss takes her time at first, chewing and savoring, but not long after, she’s ravenously ripping off pieces like a mutt, despite his warnings. Peeta was right. It’s as if she’s never seen bread and hasn’t had a meal in weeks. And even though she’s devouring it rapidly, it’s just light enough to calm her stomach.

“Well?” he asks hopefully, nudging her arm with his.

“It’s just right, Peeta,” she says with a smile.

How does he do it? Katniss wonders. How does Peeta always seem to know just what she needs?

She eyes up the bread, ready for another slice. It’s only then that it dawns on her that he’s brought her a whole loaf, cut up into slices.

“You really didn’t have to bring so much, though,” she says.

“Well, just eat what you want.”

“You’re not going to throw it out after, are you?” Katniss can’t stand waste.

“No, you can take whatever’s left home with you.”

That placates her. She can give the rest to her family or throw it to the animals next time she’s in the woods. But now that she’s tasted it, she’s not sure she’ll make it home with a single slice.

Peeta inches a bit closer to her. “So, what’d I miss?” He breaks off a tiny piece of her bread and shoves it in his mouth.

“Twelve,” Katniss says.

“Oh yeah, how’d that go?” Peeta asks through a bite.

“Well, Effie Trinket got mauled by that drunken former Victor, and he pulled her wig off. Then two timid-looking sixteen-year-olds were reaped.” The Tributes from 12 didn’t stand out to Katniss, but she recalls how warily they shook hands. She doesn’t know if they knew each other beforehand or not, but she could see the fear and mistrust in their eyes when the camera panned in.

*** A few days later, Katniss is back at the coffee shop, and they’re watching the Tributes Parade together. Cinna is there, too, relating tales of his days as a stylist and comments on the costumes. Lastly, District 12 shows up, and as usual, they’re in their horrible coal-mining outfits, but at least they aren’t stark naked and covered in black powder this year. It’s then that Cinna suddenly has a ‘vision,’ or at least, that’s how it appears from the look on his face. He proceeds to tell Peeta and Katniss how he would dress his tributes, and then, he starts eyeing Katniss up.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Cinna?” she glowers.

“It’s just…you have such…fire in you, Katniss. Your personality. I think I would have you be on fire. I’d put you in flames.”

“Flames?” She quirks a brow. “Real flames?” She looks to Peeta, who seems amused.

“No, not real, of course. But I know how to create a substance that would appear as flames. Portia and I were brainstorming one day, and we cooked it up.” He doesn’t laugh at his own wordplay, only grins, and it makes Katniss want to as well.

“But the costumes are supposed to reflect the character of the district. I’m from the Capitol, Cinna,” she protests.

“I know, but just go with it for a moment, Katniss. District 12. Coal-mining. Coal burns, so it’s related. Now, imagine with me that you’re a girl from District 12…”

“I don’t want to imagine I’m from District 12, Cinna,” she snips.

Cinna chuckles throatily. “See, Peeta, I’m telling you, this girl is pure fire.” Peeta bobs his head in agreement, and Cinna leans over toward Katniss, his long, thin lips curling all the way up. “If you were in the Games, Katniss, I’d definitely bet on you.”

Katniss scoffs, then chuckles a little. “Me? In the Hunger Games? That’s ridiculous. And why would you bet on me, Cinna? I have no combat training.”

“Yes, but you can shoot,” Peeta chimes in.

“Animals,” she clarifies, getting back to the matter at hand. “I know how to shoot animals, not…” And it’s as if it’s the first time she’s ever realized it, that the Hunger Games is all about people killing each other. Not just people, but kids‒many of them completely inexperienced. It’s stupid because, of course, that’s what it is, and she knew it all along, but this is the first time it gives her an unsettled feeling in her stomach.

Both Peeta and Cinna have somber expressions. They both know exactly what she’s thinking.

“Yeah,” Peeta finally says in a dire way. “Those kids lose a lot more than their lives in the Hunger Games.”

“What do you mean, Peeta?”

“Well, killing another human being…I wouldn’t know, but…it must cost everything you are.”

Peeta’s words set like a rock in Katniss’s stomach. And it reminds her…

“Cinna,” she says flatly. “I’m kind of surprised you’re so excited about my hypothetical costume, considering you gave up being a stylist.” Not that she knows much about it, but upon recollection, it seemed like he had talent.

“Yes, well,” Cinna’s gaze flicks to Peeta, then lowers for just a second. He raises his eyes to meet Katniss’s. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate fashion. There were…,” his lips quirk, but not in the amused way she’s accustomed, “let’s just say, other reasons I left.”

Katniss nods, though she doesn’t understand a bit.

“It wasn’t because I dislike the notion of designing a pretty dress for a pretty girl.” Cinna gives her a pointed look. “And one so strong shouldn’t be dressed in some stupid costume.”

Katniss feels a touch of warmth rise in her cheeks, even though it’s just Cinna who said it. And then, for some reason, she looks over at Peeta. His lips are parted ever so slightly, and he and Cinna are engaged in something akin to a staredown.

It doesn’t last long, though, because Cinna bursts out laughing and claps Peeta on the back. “Relax, Lover Boy. I’m not hitting on your Girl on Fire.”

Katniss and Peeta’s mouths simultaneously drop. Apparently, they haven’t been able to keep their interest in each other a bit secret. Geez, they haven’t even gone on a date and already they’re being teased!

A sincere smile creeps up on Peeta’s face as he looks between Katniss and Cinna. “Well, I think Katniss would look good in anything you put her in, Cinna. But you’re wrong about something.” He presses his lips together. “She’s not pretty; she’s beautiful.”

“Mm.”

Katniss barely hears Cinna’s mutter of acknowledgment because that stupid organ in her chest has gone and betrayed her; her heart’s rhythm has gone askew, and her cheeks are burning, also, and she’s uncomfortable with it, so she turns the situation around. “So, Cinna? What would you put Peeta in?”

Cinna strokes his chin thoughtfully and comes to a swift conclusion. “Well, Katniss, I’d put him in flames, too, because of course, you two would be a team.”

This floors both Peeta and Katniss, and they exchange a quick look of shock. Cinna’s clearly noticed this thing between them which Katniss can’t quite put a name to yet. But, more importantly, Katniss wants to tell Cinna how stupid that is, that even if she and Peeta were district partners, they wouldn’t be a team. They would be mortal enemies trying to kill one another.

“Cinna, that would never work,” she says instead. “That’s not what the Hunger Games are about.”

“Well,” Cinna smiles, “you never know.”

Katniss swallows a groan and pushes back her frustration over Cinna’s lofty ideals. “Let’s just…watch the rest of the Parade,” she says.

@oakfarmer12

***To Be Continued…***

A/N: I really thought I’d get to the Games this time, but alas, I didn’t. And in general, I didn’t expect this to get so long, but it has, and now I feel powerless to stop it. So, I’m just going with it. I hope you’re enjoying it so far! Hope it’s not too slow-going. FYI, there will be at least two more parts.

#springtime edition 2020 #acpoe82 #prompt 68 #oakfarmer12 #submission

50 notes · View notes

puddygeeks · 4 years

Text

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 36: Nᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ Oғ Tʜᴇ Bᴇᴀsᴛ

Masterlist

Episodes: Coup De Grace; Rubicon, Resurrection

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Thirty-Six

I used the simple bunker showers to wash out the home made dye and towel dried my newly red hair. I hurriedly dressed back in the black dress as I felt vulnerable to kidnapping the entire time that I was in the bathroom. I felt an immediate rush of relief as I slid Bellamy’s jacket back around me and wrapped myself up in it’s safety. I stood with my eyes closed for a few moments as I held the jacket tightly and took some deep breaths to relax my rapid heartbeat.

As I reflected on my earlier conversation with Jasper I knew in my gut that my dependence on this jacket probably wasn’t healthy, but I couldn’t fathom parting myself from it just yet. I was in the process of the relaxation exercise that I used to guide Octavia through when the intrusive images of Monty burst through and I snapped my eyes open with gasp. It had been helpful to keep busy earlier with Jasper but now that I was alone I had no defence against my fear. I quickly snatched my things and strode back toward the dorms.

I power walked through the halls and I became aware that I was losing control as panic took over. My heart was hammering in my chest and I felt my hands shaking. Visions of Monty screaming for help flashed through my mind too quickly to fully comprehend. I reminded myself that I just needed to get to Jasper, he would be able to calm me. The hallways seemed to grow longer and I felt disoriented as I tried to navigate them. The narrative in my mind unexpectedly changed and the screaming quietened slightly only to be overlaid with Bellamy’s voice.

“You have to find Monty.” I shook my head violently in an attempt to dislodge the sound, but it got louder and I covered my ears in desperation. “Come on Indigo, what are you doing? We don’t let anyone come for our people! Find him, rescue him, do whatever it takes.”

I couldn’t tell if my sanity had finally snapped, or if my conscience had taken on Bellamy’s voice but it was unbearable to hear. As the words repeated in an inescapable loop, I became convinced that he truly would be upset with me if he were here. My anxiety accused me of losing the strength that I had possessed in camp and berated me for letting Monty down by simply waiting for Maya to find him. I started to convince myself that she was involved in his disappearance and that I would never see Monty again if I didn’t act now.

I found myself in a hallway that I didn’t recognise with no concept of how I got there. I could hear footsteps approaching and tucked myself into a small alcove to hide. I watched as one of the medical assistants from the unit approached a door and they checked over both shoulders before lifting their pass to the scanner to open the door. I felt a red haze overpowering my vision and without thinking leapt forward to seize them. I grasped their coat to drag them backwards before slamming their face into the wall as forcefully as I could, causing them to collapse. I snatched the pass from around their neck and waved it in front of the scanner. The moment that the door opened I rushed through and slammed it behind me.

As I was met with another unfamiliar area I started to panic and broke into a wild run through the halls with only a subconscious awareness of where I was going. I stumbled around a corner and recognised the elevator that Monty had used to transport me from quarantine. I reached the doors and repeatedly hit the button in a fluster as I became aware of hurried footsteps echoing from behind me. I swore under my breath as I watched the screen above the elevator progressing through the floors at an agonising rate and aggressively probed at the button with clammy hands. It finally chimed to announce it’s arrival and I leapt to stand in front of the doors nervously. I was prepared to jump in at the first available opportunity but as the doors parted I was met with a swarm of guards. They descended over me like a tidal wave to tackle me to the floor and I felt a sharp pain in my side that I knew well by now.

***

I slowly became aware of a strange thrumming sound and the rattling of something metal. My body was weak and it seemed that I was tightly compressed. I blinked slowly in an attempt to force myself to wake up and immediately noticed my head spinning from the effort. I could feel something cold and hard digging into my skin, and as my surroundings came into view I was struck with the realisation that I was in a cage. My entire body flooded with adrenaline as my mind processed this terrifying information and everything came rapidly into sharp focus.

I sat up in the cage that was barely big enough for the movement and glanced down at myself to discover that I had been stripped of my usual clothes. My skin was barely covered by some kind of surgical gown and I gulped as I analysed the need for this. I dragged my head up and was startled by the sight of Monty who was staring back at me from the other side of the bars. I threaded my fingers through the tightly gridded cage and he grasped my hand in return. As my eyes roamed his form, it was clear that we mirrored each other and I registered that he was contained in a cage next to mine.

“Monty!” I gasped as I studied him in a mixture of relief and terror. Although I was pleased to find that he was alive, I quickly assessed that we may not be for much longer. “What happened? Where’s Harper?” I breathed in a fluster and he seemed heartbroken as he met my eyes.

“She’s behind me, next cage along. She’s in really bad shape.” He confirmed and I fidgeted within the tight containment in an attempt to view behind him. I glimpsed blonde hair just over his shoulder, but was unable to manoeuvre myself into a position where I could communicate with her. “This is fucked up Indie. They’ve moved us from storage to here and they’re getting ready to do something with us.” He rambled in a panic stricken manner and the fear was evident in his wide eyes. I felt my stomach fill with dread at his words and I was unnerved by the stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. “What the hell are you doing here?” He quizzed as he seemed to suddenly realise that my arrival here was strange.

“I was searching for you.” I breathed as I squeezed his fingers to reassure myself and his eyes filled with tears.

I scanned the small room and noticed there were only around a dozen cages in here. As I peered out of the front of the cage containing me, I clocked a barbaric operating table that was fully fitted with restraints and my stomach lurched at the discovery. On further inspection, I identified several monitors on the far wall with a trolley full of assorted medical tools that more closely resembled torture instruments.

The door swung open to reveal the friendly female doctor who had tried to reassure me when we volunteered for blood transfusions, followed by a large male doctor that I didn’t recognise. She approached the cages and examined us each in turn with a threatening expression. I glared back at her with murderous fury and she smirked as she moved back toward Monty. I battled to contain the anxiety that threatened to leap out of my chest and worried that I might prompt her to harm him if I antagonised her. I held my breath as she passed him to stand in front of the cage that Monty had described as containing Harper.

“This one.” She spoke firmly and the male doctor obediently started to unlock the cage.

Monty rattled the door to his cage aggressively but it made little difference as they lifted Harper out. Now that she was in my field of vision it was clear that she was weak and exhausted; her face was bloody and I could identify multiple wounds on her body just at a glance. I could tell that she had already endured several procedures and I felt fury coursing through my veins as they lifted her almost completely limp body up onto the operating table. It was obvious that she had no remaining energy to fight them and I understood in this decision that they were no longer sympathetic about their treatment of us. The reassurances of the medical unit were nowhere to be found and I was disgusted to witness that they were willing to operate on someone in such a state.

“Stop it!” I barked as my words escaped without my permission but my voice earned no reaction from the doctors. “Are you fuckers too scared to deal with someone who can fight back?! Take me! I’m still full of life, I’m a much better specimen.” I yelled as I desperately stomped on the cage to create as much noise as possible.

They continued to work as if they couldn’t even hear me and easily secured Harper into the restraints. They busied themselves with preparing tools and covered her body to the neck with an operating sheet. I could hardly breathe through the rage that threatened to destroy me and I was becoming frantic in my efforts to stop them. I knew that there was little chance of escape at this point and instead I focused on keeping us alive for long enough that Jasper could find us. The female doctor picked up a scalpel and cut into Harper’s hip in a long exaggerated motion. This cut earned a horrifying scream that burned into my memory and I flinched as I felt the colour draining from my face.

“Please stop, she’s too weak.” Monty begged as he sagged against the care door in exhausted distress. I couldn’t stand the hurt that seeped into his words and I watched the agonised expression on his tear stained face with a heartbroken familiarity. I understood his feelings for her better than anyone and I recognised that being forced to witness this was as torturous for him as it would be if Bellamy was on that table for me.

“Don’t...don’t...not again.” Harper could barely manage a whisper through her panicked breaths and yet the doctors still behaved as if she were nothing more than a science experiment. I wracked my brain for ideas as I analysed Harper’s weak form and calculated that she was unlikely to survive many more of these procedures. I peeked at Monty through tearful eyes and struggled not to crumble at the idea that he would eventually take her place.

I knew that I could not endure anyone harming him and I decided that if I had to sacrifice myself here to protect him, it would be worth it. I had already tried reasoning with them. The only logical solution that remained in my scattered mind was to get under their skin and to motivate them to hurt me instead. I heard the sound of a drill whirring and Monty frantically cried out at them to stop. The horror of the situation hit me at all once and I went berserk under the pressure. I snatched the cage door with both hands and began slamming it manically against the lock, shrieking like a banshee as I unleashed the overpowering fury that poured out from my core.

“You sadistic fucking bitch, I’ll kill you! When I get out of here you’re dead! I’ll tear you apart, you sick, lying bastards!” I swore in a raving manner and when this failed to earn a reaction, I fell backward to repeatedly kick the cage door with all of the force that I could muster. Once it became clear that I had no intention of stopping, the doctor switched off the drill to sharply turn on the spot and faced me with a thunderous expression of annoyance.

“Sedate the loud one.” She ordered with frustration evident in her posture as I continued to lash out. The male doctor rolled his eyes before he approached the cage and my movements became even more frantic. I hadn’t anticipated this outcome and I descended into chaotic panic as I made every effort to stop them from being able to inject me.

“Fuck you, I’m not scared of you! I’m a murderer, I’ll kill you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine!” I roared as I glared over at her in disgust.

I didn’t even feel the injection through the extreme adrenaline that was pumping through me. The door to the room burst open with a deafening slam but I couldn’t focus on the blurred figures that hurried inside. I remained conscious for long enough to notice the female doctor leap away from the opening table in shock before my eyes were forced closed.

***

When I next regained consciousness I recognised the dorms surrounding me and realised that I was lying on the floor. I slowly sat up to notice that I was hidden protectively behind a crowd of our people who were behaving as if they were recovering from some kind of attack. I brought my hands to my head to combat the disorientation of the movement and was taken aback when Monty rushed into my sight to grab my shoulders.

“Thank god you’re okay!” He breathed with furrowed brows and I studied him in confusion. “I wish I could give you a gentler wake up but we don’t have time. Get dressed and ready for a fight, we’ll catch you up when we can.” He handed me a pile of clothes and I glanced down at my body to find that I was still wearing the surgical gown. I raised my brows in shock as I realised that I hadn’t imagined the time we’d spent beside each other in cages and it only intensified my confusion. I carefully struggled to my feet and quickly changed back into my dress and boots. Although I felt immediately better to be in a full item of clothing again, I couldn’t deny the continued sense that I was exposed with my arms uncovered and I scanned the area in concern for my jacket. I couldn’t find it anywhere within the tight corner of the room that I had woken in and my eyes were drawn to Monty in the crowd. I took a deep breath and approached him for answers.

“Good, you’re done. We need to be ready to fight our way out of here.” He seemed frazzled as he addressed me in a firm tone and I peeked at the fearful faces that surrounded us with a feeling of dread.

“Monty, what the hell is going on? Last time I saw you we were in cages?” I breathed as I met his eyes with a feeling of urgency that I didn’t understand. I surveyed the room and felt an unease at the way the group huddled together. Although I was unsure what was happening, I knew that I had missed something important and I could sense the tension in the air.

“Jasper convinced President Wallace to release us from the cages and sent us back to get our people ready to leave. The problem is that he’s not in charge any more, his crazy son Cage has taken over and it turns out that he’s the one who’s been running the experiments this whole time. So instead of walking out together like we were promised, they locked us in here and the guards come with Dr Singh every four hours to take someone else. We tried linking together to stop them but they just tackle us until they can separate someone. They already took Del and Max.” He explained with an exhausted expression. I glimpsed over his shoulder to discover that the double doors to the dorms were closed and I rubbed my head in a gesture of stress.

“Okay, this isn’t over yet. Linking together is too defensive, we need to fight back, hard. We can create weapons with things in this room, we did it at camp. We need to overwhelm them.” I ordered as I assessed our surroundings for inspiration and focused on the fire of determination that lit in my stomach.

“You’re so alike.” Monty smiled fondly at me with his cryptic statement but before I could question who exactly he was comparing me to, Jasper stepped into my view with an abundance of relief in his warm face.

“You look like you’re missing something.” He crooned as he handed me the heavy fabric of Bellamy’s jacket. I sighed in relief and smiled thankfully as I slipped it on. “I remembered to grab it on the way out of the lab.” He announced with pride and I finished adjusting the jacket with a familiar wave of comfort. “But Indie, I have to tell you something.” He added and I noticed that his body language became nervous as he shuffled on the spot. I gulped and raised a brow at him in anticipation. “Looks like you’ll be giving that back pretty soon...He’s here.” Jasper spoke in a slow, significant manner and I frowned back at him in bewilderment.

“Who’s here?” I asked as my stomach dropped and I rapidly rescanned the faces of everyone in the room. I knew that he couldn’t possibly mean Bellamy but I felt my heartbeat quicken at the implication.

“Bellamy! He's disguised as one of the guards. He told us to fight harder, we just have to keep them busy until he can get us out of here.” Jasper asserted and I felt as if the rest of the room crumbled around us. I could sense Monty’s concerned observation as I processed what I’d just heard and I felt myself staring open mouthed at Jasper. I found it hard to force words out as I fought for control of my own frantic mind and my tongue tied itself in knots as I tried to articulate the storm of my thoughts.

“Jasper, w-what are you talking about...that’s i-impossible.”

“Indie, I know this is hard for you to understand.” Monty put a hand on my arm to draw my attention to him and his eyes were filled with understanding. I could hardly hear him through the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears and I battled to remain focused on his explanation. “But I’ve questioned Jasper repeatedly about this. He already thought he saw Bellamy through the door earlier and now he’s had a conversation with him, that confirms it.. Bellamy is here and he needs our help. You already said the same thing he did, that we need to fight.” Monty attempted to pull me from the building madness that whirled inside my mind and I couldn’t comprehend the words that I was hearing.

“You don’t have to process this right now, I just need you to hold it together.” Jasper stepped closer to position himself at Monty’s side and pleaded in an attempt to reach me. “We need you Indie, we need your instincts. They’re going to come back and take another one of us, we have to stop them. They’re not just taking blood from us anymore, they’re killing us.” Jasper clarified and his words finally pulled me from my internal crisis. I pushed the information about Bellamy to the back of my mind. I refused to believe it so that I could cling to what remained of my sanity and forced my focus back into the room.

“The bunk beds are metal, see if you can take them apart at all.” I commanded as my analysing nature was drawn to them and I continued to search for other items that we could use as weapons. I felt the boys move beside me and when I glanced back they were both smiling at the suggestion.

“There’s our girl.” Monty muttered proudly and squeezed my arm warmly. I felt my arms shaking even under his grip as I battled to hold myself together and the anxiety pounded against the mental wall I had raised to protect myself.

“He also gave me this.” Jasper pulled a gun from the back of his trousers and I raised my brows at him in surprise. “If you guys can overwhelm them, I’ve got a shot at taking someone out.” He elaborated and I was glad for Bellamy’s considerate thinking. I glossed over the acknowledgement of how we had attained the gun and instead considered the best use of it.

“It has to be the doctor, take the head off the snake.” I growled with more aggression than intended. “She seems to be leading the procedures, losing her would slow them down at least.” I explained as I reigned in my tone and tried to present a logical case.

“Alright, good plan.” Monty agreed and I was relieved that I was still able to contribute. “Let’s arm up. We don’t have long.” He ordered as he spurred us into action and we parted in different directions.

We busied ourselves with deconstructing everything in the room that we could and managed to release several poles to use as weapons. I slid my hands under the mattress of my bunk in search of the scissors that I had used to cut Jasper’s hair and was relieved to find that they were still there. I was proud that I’d thought to hide them and I spent the last of our preparation time sharpening the blades into a weapon.

Jasper described the plan to the group and I listened with interest. The front row would link together in the same tactic as before to avoid suspicion; anyone with weapons would stand behind and keep them out of view. We were to wait for Dr Singh to choose someone and once the guards turned their backs on the group, we would ambush them. When Jasper had the opportunity to take a shot, he would shoot the doctor causing enough chaos for us to potentially overwhelm them. We banded into a tight unit as the time grew closer and I waited anxiously in the second row. Although I hadn’t seen the first few collections, the way that Monty had described them to me sent chills down my spine and I could feel the terror levels in the room.

“Everyone! We stick to the plan, they’re not taking anyone else out of this room without a fight!” Jasper yelled and I was proud to witness him inspire the others. The buzzer sounded near the doors and multiple people in the crowd around me flinched in reaction. “Get ready.” He ordered and I nodded firmly as I steeled myself.

The doors opened to reveal an organised wall of guards with guns raised in front of them as they marched into the space and I couldn’t deny that the sight was intimidating as the others around me fidgeted nervously.

“Disperse.” They ordered as they closed in on us, before they suddenly parted to allow Dr Singh to saunter through carelessly. She reached the front row with a controlled interest sparkling in her eyes and I shuffled my position to ensure that she didn’t notice me. She glimpsed between Jasper and Monty with a hunger that made my skin crawl and I felt my stomach lurch with terror. She finally settled her attention on Monty and pointed at him confidently.

“This one.” She ordered, causing the guards to pull him from the barricade that we had created with practically no resistance. I battled every instinct in my body to attack as I reminded myself of the plan. I waited with shaking hands for the guards to turn their backs with him and as I stepped forward to fight, Jasper raised the gun in front of him.

“Hey! Get your hands off him!” He howled furiously. His vicious demand caused a guard to turn and raise his club in preparation to attack. The gun fired in what seemed to be an accident and I gasped in shock as the bullet struck the guard in his bulletproof vest .

The shock of the gun only stopped things momentarily, before the guard swung the club to easily disarm Jasper and all hell broke loose. Miller lunged forward to swing a metal pipe at the guard and his movement launched the group into battle. It was impossible to track what was happening amidst the chaos and I surged forward to tackle a guard to the floor, before another of our people stepped in to strike him with a pole.

In barely a matter of seconds most of our people were violently apprehended and I stepped back to frantically search the room for Monty as the guards herded us backwards. Dr Singh approached our huddled group again and surveyed us with an offended expression, as if she couldn’t believe that we had the audacity to fight for our lives. I spotted Monty on his knees beside a guard on the other side of the room and was glad that he was at least still within my reach. Dr Singh glared down at Jasper, who was on his hands and knees.

“Take him instead.” She ordered as she indicated to Jasper in a frustrated gesture.

“No!” I screamed, unable to hold back my emotions any longer and tried to battle my way through the crowd. “You can’t take Jasper!” I snarled and I watched two guards seize him by his arms as I fought my way to a gap that was no longer protected.

“Search the rest, make sure there are no other weapons.” Dr Singh stated as Jasper was dragged through the doors screaming. I burst out of the crowd and grabbed her before she could escape. I pulled the scissors from my pocket and plunged them into her gut as hard as I could. I twisted the blades maliciously as she fell away from me and I was forced to the ground face first in a painful restraint by the guards.

“Bring her too.” Dr Singh wheezed from above me and I was hoisted back to my feet with my arms behind my back. The last remaining guard in the room supported her side and helped her to walk. As I was hauled along behind her I could hear Monty’s desperate cries fading into the background as we exited the dorms. The doors slammed behind me and I came face to face with Jasper, who studied me in confusion.

“No, Indie! Let her go! You already have me!” He pleaded as he hysterically fought against them with a renewed spirit at the sight of me.

“She stabbed me!” Dr Singh spat as she indicated to the scissors that protruded from her gut and Jasper’s eyes widened at the sight of the wound, which poured blood at an alarming rate. “As soon as we’re in the lab I want her prepped. I’ll start on her the second I’m stitched up.” She ordered the guard at her side and I scoffed at her words.

“Does it hurt bitch?” I laughed darkly as I glared at her. I couldn’t suppress the depraved enjoyment of her suffering and she turned her attention to me with a fury burning behind her eyes. “It’s such a shame that we couldn’t have more time together. I had such plans” I drawled and could feel Jasper watching me with panicked eyes as we waited for the elevator that would take us to our deaths. I was fearful but relieved that she’d decided to operate on me first, hoping that I’d bought enough time for rescue to come for Jasper.

“I usually struggle to harm you kids, but I’m going to enjoy harvesting you.” She spat threateningly as she stared at me, before she appeared to gag and her hands grasped at her throat.

“Ugh, something’s wrong.” One of the guards holding me groaned as he started to choke and I inspected the area in confusion.

“Radiation! We need to get out of here.” Dr Singh’s voice cracked as she spoke. She panted as she grabbed the radio from the guard beside her. “Containment breach, level 5.” She cried into it as the guards around us collapsed and left Jasper and I free to move. “Seal the whole floor.” She struggled to get the words out as her skin burned up and bled. I watched her suffering with a sadistic smile and refused to break eye contact as she collapsed to her knees.

“Bellamy.” Jasper breathed with a tone of amazement and I glanced over to see him staring at the ventilation fan at the end of the corridor with a grin.

“Come on, we don’t know how much time that gave us. Let’s get the others out.” I ordered as I grabbed a pass from one of the guards and rushed to open the doors to the dorms. “Let’s move, everyone out!” I urged those left trapped there into action and they flooded out of the space in a panic.

“Let’s go! This is our chance!” Jasper called as he directed people down the hall and I remained at the doors to usher them out of the room. “Take the level! Monty, get the cameras! Miller, get their guns! Go!” Jasper ordered and I was pleased that he took control of the situation. I waited until the last person had been moved from dorms and ran around the corner to find Jasper standing at the elevator doors. I paused at his side to check whether he needed help and found Dr Singh lying inside the space, pleading for her life. I was quickly joined by Monty, Miller and Harper as we all glared down at her in disgust.

“I hope you know that you’re incredibly special to us.” Jasper spoke poignantly and I understood that this was something she must have said to him before. We all watched as she screamed in agony, burning up in the radiation until she finally died. I placed a hand on Jasper’s shoulder and squeezed it supportively.

“We need to take a space that we can hold, somewhere we can defend until rescue comes.” I advised firmly and Jasper nodded distractedly.

We followed him into the dining room and busied ourselves with barricading the entrances. I seized a handful of table knives and focused on sharpening them to a dangerous point. Once I’d finished I stowed them in every pocket that I could find and even hid some in my boots for an emergency. I hoped that no one would get close enough for me to use them, but after our last plan came so close to getting Jasper and I killed, I needed to be prepared.

“We took the level, but now we need to hold it. They will be coming and we need to be ready!” Jasper called over the chaos as we rushed around. I found Fox knocking down surveillance cameras from the ceiling and grabbed a pole to assist her, smashing any cameras that I could find into pieces. As she destroyed the last remaining one, I noticed Jasper and Monty speaking near the doors and marched over to them.

“Hey guys, anything specific you want me to do in this plan?” I investigated in the hopes that between them they had formulated tactics that were better considered than my last suggestion.

“You’re a great shot, probably the best we have left. Get a gun from Miller. I’m counting on you to take down as many as you can.” Jasper ordered and I nodded. I assisted in the final steps to build the barricade and assisted in a few other defensive ideas as we attempted to use every available moment to add to our arsenal. I noticed Harper setting out buckets of water and was about to question it when Monty stepped into the centre of the room.

“Alright listen up people! I’m sure you all remember the smoke grenades they used in camp to bring us here. There’s a good chance that they’ll use those again. If they do, we’re ready. Grab the grenade and get it into any of the buckets of water. We have to be able to fight, we’re only going to get one chance at this!” Monty announced and I smiled at him proudly.

We all settled into our assigned positions, ensuring that we were spread to cover the room as densely as possible as we waited for an attack that we knew would come. Monty watched the hallway cameras on a small screen for any sign of battle commencing and we all strained to remain strong.

22 notes · View notes

thevividgreenmoss · 5 years

Link

Every single day, a few odd hundred thousand people stare into poisonous blue light rays and feel debilitating rage at some things that understandably prompt it and some things that do not. In any event, they will respond with a generic style of online sarcasm that’s been culled from the greatest perma-banned posters of the last decade and sanitized into nothingness. You spew out their words while you react to every macro and micro Trump scandal, watching him mostly weather each cycle not so much unscathed, but ready for a new one that will make you forget about the last one. Everyone is always having a normal one in the normal world, as we clench our teeth so hard we begin to bleed.

People aren’t complete idiots, and know that consuming and reacting to every bit of political media input in and of itself won’t change anything. But I think for some, they’re in a paralyzed state. It’s like a hangover, where any light or movement causes unfathomable pain and you’ve just got to lie in a dehydrated heap until those vapors leave your brain. You know the boring, inconclusive future, and so you have no use in imagining a better life. You just sit around reacting until the next thing.Every single day, a few odd hundred thousand people stare into poisonous blue light rays and feel debilitating rage at some things that understandably prompt it and some things that do not. In any event, they will respond with a generic style of online sarcasm that’s been culled from the greatest perma-banned posters of the last decade and sanitized into nothingness. You spew out their words while you react to every macro and micro Trump scandal, watching him mostly weather each cycle not so much unscathed, but ready for a new one that will make you forget about the last one. Everyone is always having a normal one in the normal world, as we clench our teeth so hard we begin to bleed.People aren’t complete idiots, and know that consuming and reacting to every bit of political media input in and of itself won’t change anything. But I think for some, they’re in a paralyzed state. It’s like a hangover, where any light or movement causes unfathomable pain and you’ve just got to lie in a dehydrated heap until those vapors leave your brain. You know the boring, inconclusive future, and so you have no use in imagining a better life. You just sit around reacting until the next thing.

...Joker had the opportunity to be a really good, interesting movie. I firmly believe the biggest unnoticed problem in our culture right now is loneliness, and this could have been a seminal look at our isolated time. It also could have been way funnier, or at least not taken itself so seriously at every moment. It could not have beaten the viewer over the head with the idea that Arthur Fleck is a strange guy and blasted us with genre typical booming orchestrals to remind us what we’re supposed to feel. Unfortunately, we got a version of AJ Soprano talking about Nietzsche, even if Joaquin Phoenix was doing it.

I firmly believe that we are, as a culture, attempting to relive 2004-2006 by playing World of Warcraft, listening to Tool, and watching self-serious Batman universe movies. But if this film had come out in that time and you removed The Joker from the equation, it would be forgotten a day after its release. Maybe years later, people would resuscitate parts of it to use in YouTube meme videos so the president would retweet it. Its main cultural cache would most likely be the DVD that your dirtiest friend always leaves on in his sweltering room.

But all of this comes together to make Joaquin Phoenix’s Arthur Fleck the perfect Joker for our era; something that produces a whirlwind or reaction and counter-reaction, to the point that people are absolutely positive every theater will produce one mass shooting or that Joker will replace all western canon, and after all that, we get a positively unremarkable expedition that will be forgotten by Thanksgiving, a product of a media economy where three companies who make everything keep it as efficient as possible by just making a few types of media properties and hoping people will tear each other apart in the cramped space to increase every product’s Q rating. It is an endless debate over a social phenomenon it’s not actually about, a boring culture war that will have no resolution, and a million jokes people on either side of it don’t actually have fun telling. It’s a bunch of clenched, gritting smiles that made Warner Brothers millions of dollars, and then you go home, more likely to die from boring yet equally evil indignities than getting killed at a culturally relevant event.

For a bonus, it’s in the superhero genre, one of three genres of film we are allowed now outside Noah Baumbach excursions about architects learning to accept their freewheeling stepbrothers and comedies that are made with an algorithm so every scene will be usable in GIF form. And you’ll probably be experiencing moral panics/emotional defenses of every single one of them for the rest of your life.

Todd Phillips may have performed the greatest Joker’s trick of all time, however. He may have made a movie that is more “5.5 out of 10” than any movie before it, and tricked us all into either arguing about how it would cause an army of incels to murder everyone, or get us so annoyed at the constant state of fear we’re supposed to live in that we start arguing with those voices, creating an endless feedback loop of people that are now working 40 hours a week on a volunteer basis to raise Joker awareness. If Phillips is aware of both his limitations as an artist and the current, sick condition of the highest volume consumers of media, he is more twisted than Mr J. himself. But to that end, he should just make another Hangover movie. Our culture that wishes it were the mid 2000s is far more ripe for that.

Until they make another fucking one of these, see you out there in society!

#what a colossally depressing and pointless waste of time lmao #essays #*

48 notes · View notes

queenofcats17 · 4 years

Note

Hi there! I wanted to say I really like Charlie and the Lawrences!! If it’s ok, I wanted to send a prompt in for them? I understand if you have too many prompts right now, so if you can’t do this one, I totally get it^^ Here it is: I’d imagine at some point Charlie gets involved in the magic shenanigans at the studio. What’s the first one they experience? (I.E: they visit the studio after school and it’s teeny Sammy times, or something happens to them specifically, and no one is Ok with This™)

No worries. I’m really glad you like Charlie!

This is certainly going to be interesting. But it also got kind of sad.

————————————————-

It was a small miracle Charlie hadn’t experienced the bizarre shenanigans of Joey Drew Studios sooner. They’d been with Susie and Sammy for almost six months before they witnessed one of the transformations that were so common at the studio. Part of this may have been because they’d recently been enrolled in school, much to their chagrin. In any case, they’d heard about the transformations from their parents, usually through Sammy’s complaining about whatever shenanigans Joey had put them through, but they hadn’t seen one before that point. Despite this lack of concrete proof, Charlie wholeheartedly believed in the magic of the studio. After all, literal cartoons lived in the studio.

They’d been coming back from school that day. Their routine was that they dropped by the studio after school to hang out until it was time for their parents to head home. They’d been a little nervous when they’d first started school because they’d be leaving Shadow and her kittens, (They’d named the girl Soot since she was gray and the boy Pancake. They didn’t really have a reason for naming Pancake what they had since he was black and white, not any shade of brown. Still, that was what Charlie had wanted.) but a nice woman who lived next door had volunteered to watch the cats until the family got home.

“I’m here!” Charlie announced, opening the door to the studio. Almost immediately, they noticed that something seemed to be going on. The employees they could see were running around frantically, but not in the way they usually were.

Usually, when Charlie arrived the employees were running around delivering scripts and checking various animation cells with their superiors. But at the moment they were running around carrying buckets of ink and things that Charlie vaguely recognized as ritual components. Although they weren’t allowed to be around when Joey was conducting rituals, they knew what the components looked like due to asking questions.

“Oh, hey kiddo!” Wally stuck his head out from the hallway. “This, uh, might not be the best time.” For once, he didn’t have ink smeared all over his face.

“What’s…goin’ on?” Charlie asked slowly, hobbling toward him.

It was at that point that Sammy rounded the corner, grumbling to himself. However, he didn’t look the way he had when he’d left the house that morning. He was a toon. Again. A demon toon this time, judging from the horns poking out from his hair and the spade tipped tail flicking back and forth.

“That’s why…” Wally grimaced as Sammy and Charlie locked eyes. Charlie’s eyes widened and they dropped their backpack.

“Hey…” Sammy grimaced as well. He’d honestly been dreading this. Charlie knew about the transformations Sammy went through, but he wasn’t sure what his child’s reaction was going to be. This was weird even for him.

Thankfully, the reaction was far from negative.

“This…is so cool!” Charlie lit up, bouncing up and down as best they could without falling over. Sammy let out an internal sigh of relief, although due to his current toon state it wasn’t so internal.

“What happened? Was it Mr. Joey again?” Charlie asked, getting closer to play with Sammy’s tail.

“Yeah.” Sammy nodded, his tail swishing in irritation at the memory. “He was trying to improve Bendy’s design and, well….” He gestured to himself.

“The magic ink got in the pipes again,” Wally added. “Standard stuff.”

“Can I be a toon?” Charlie looked up at Sammy with sparkling eyes. “Please? I wanna try it too!”

“Absolutely not.” Sammy immediately replied.

“Aw, why?” Charlie asked, face screwed up in a quintessentially childish pout. “Mr. Drew knows how to reverse it, right? It wouldn’t hurt if I got to be a toon for a little.”

“It’s still incredibly dangerous.” Sammy insisted.

“But you get turned into a toon all the time!” Charlie whined.

“And every time I’m worried I’ll never be able to turn back!”

“But you do get turned back!”

“It’s dangerous!”

As the argument escalated, Wally stood there, unsure what to do. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of this. To be fair, Sammy had a point. Getting transformed into various things was incredibly dangerous and it was understandable Sammy wouldn’t want his kid getting involved in it. It was causing a bit of a scene, though.

Sammy was trying very hard not to yell, knowing how terrifying he could be when he yelled, but Charlie was full-on screaming. Their argument was loud enough that it attracted Susie’s attention. She came running from Joey’s office, looking rather concerned.

“What’s going on?” She asked, looking even more concerned when she saw Sammy and Charlie fighting.

“Charlie wanted to try bein’ a toon and Sammy doesn’t wanna let him,” Wally explained in a low voice.

“Oh dear.” Susie turned her attention back to Sammy and Charlie.

Charlie was crying and so had stopped yelling for the moment. Sammy’s horns lowered, like a cat lowering its ears.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said, gathering Charlie in his arms. “I just don’t want something to happen to you.”

“We worry about you, dear,” Susie agreed, joining the hug. “As fun as it might sound to be a cartoon for a little, there’s always the possibility that something will happen and you won’t be able to turn back. It’s something I worry about all the time when this happens to Sammy.”

“But I wanna try it,” Charlie said weakly. “Maybe…Maybe if I’m a toon, my legs will work better.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Susie’s expression softened. There were tears in her eyes and even Sammy looked a bit misty-eyed. She and Sammy held Charlie tighter, Sammy’s tail wrapping around both of them. It was a frankly adorable scene.

Wally took that opportunity to leave. He didn’t want to spoil the moment. Besides, Joey probably needed help setting up the ritual.

After a few minutes, the three of them drew back from the hug.

“Do your legs really bother you that much, dear?” Susie asked.

“A little,” Charlie sniffled.

“Physical therapy is always an option,” Sammy said. They’d taken Charlie to the doctor a few weeks after adopting them and the doctor had that physical therapy might help with the muscle damage in Charlie’s legs. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was a possibility.

“The doctor said it might not work.” Charlie hunched their shoulders.

“But it’s a possibility,” Susie said, brushing some hair out of Charlie’s eyes and fixing their little flower barrette.

“But…I don’t want to be a burden,” Charlie mumbled.

“A burden? Why would we think of you as a burden?” Sammy asked.

“I dunno.” Charlie hunched their shoulders more. “My old family thought I was a burden…”

Susie’s expression darkened and literal steam began to come out of Sammy’s ears. Neither of them had asked about how Charlie had found themselves on the street. They’d known it likely wasn’t a particularly happy story.

“We will never think of you as a burden, darling.” Susie swept them up in her arms again. “You’re our family now and family means no one gets left behind.”

“We might get angry at you sometimes, but we’re not going to abandon you.” Sammy agreed, smiling gently.

“Promise?” Charlie looked up at them, their voice so small and unsure it made Sammy want to find the people who had abandoned them and give them a piece of his mind.

“Promise.” Sammy and Susie said together.

“Okay.” Charlie still looked a bit unsure but allowed Susie and Sammy to hug them again.

“I still think you look really cool, Dad,” they said after a bit.

“I think I look ridiculous,” Sammy grumbled, his gaze flicking down to his tail. “And this thing is more trouble than it’s worth.” Controlling four limbs was bad enough. He didn’t want to have to deal with another.

“I think the idea of you as a demon is rather…interesting.” Susie gave him a mischevious smile. Immediately, Sammy blushed and began to sputter. Charlie looked blankly between the two of them for a moment or two before recognition dawned on their face and their expression turned to one of horror.

“Ew! Gross!”

Susie just giggled.

#bendy and the ink machine #fanfiction #hell's studio au #charlie lawrence #sammy lawrence #susie campbell #wally franks #tw mentions of abuse

18 notes · View notes

faithhudson · 4 years

Text

Raise Your Glass || Fae & Evan 07.01

Fae

Fae wondered to herself what the hell she’d been thinking. Yes, she was learning and growing or whatever Sawyer thought she was doing, but that didn’t mean she should have volunteered to spend time with Evan. She was still a Hummel, still one of the people her mother had insisted were family when she knew better than that, and the fact was that spending time with her wasn’t something Fae had ever volunteered to do before. But when Evan had messaged because she needed to go into town and couldn’t do so without an escort, Fae had somehow convinced herself that it was a good idea to say yes. An idea she was very much regretting.

“Hey,” she greeted Evan with a half-hearted wave. “You ready to go? The shuttle will take us into town.”

Evan

She had been extremely surprised when Fae had agreed to go into town with her. This would be the first time, in ever, that Fae had agreed on her own account to do something with her. Evan wasn't even sure what had prompted her to ask Fae to go with her. Before she had arrived at the institute, Evan had made peace with the fact that she and Fae would never have any relationship with one another. And yet, when she had arrived, the fellow Switch had offered to get her some things from Florida. It had felt like a step in the right direction and she supposed she felt like she needed to try and take a step in that direction as well.

"Hey, sounds good." She agreed with a nod, already feeling the awkwardness. But it was better than an angry tension. She was glad for the change, however small. "Thanks for coming." Evan said, stepping onto the shuttle and finding an empty seat.

Fae

There was still a part of her that wanted to turn tail and run, but it was too late for that now. She’d been a bitch and worse to Evan over the years, but Fae simply didn’t seem to have it in her anymore. The Hummels weren’t her family, and she still resented any insinuation that they were, but after years of little to no contact - and the way that Madeline seemed to be calming her worst instincts - it seemed harder to be angry anymore. “No worries,” she was still having a hard time finding friendly words, but she was doing her best to at least be okay company. She found the seat right in front of Evan and turned back to face her. “I was a little surprised you asked. But you can buy me a drink in town and we’ll call it even.”

Maybe that was a terrible idea, but Fae was worried about getting shaky again on the trip and having some alcohol in her system seemed like a possible solution.

Evan

"Honestly, I was surprised too. But here we are." Evan said with a slight shrug. "I honestly figured that you would have said no. But I can't say I'm mad that you didn't."

Evan wasn't a stranger to the issues that Fae had had throughout her teen and young adult years. It would be impossible to live in the Hudson-Hummel household without being knowledgeable about at least some of what Fae had done and struggled with. But she also knew that one couldn't change completely without taking some steps and it did seem like she was taking at least some element of a step forward. "Sure, Fae. I'll buy you a drink." She replied with a chuckle.

Fae

A smile tugged at Fae’s lips, surprising even her. “Honestly, I’d have figured that I’d say no too,” she admitted with a nod. “But I’m not mad about it either. You needed to get into town and I could help you, so I’m good with it. And even better because you’re going to buy me a drink,” she grinned. The coach roared to life, an unhealthy amount of black smoke billowing from the tailpipe, and she looked curiously out the window.

“Starting to wonder if this is an elaborate plot to kill us off and collect some kind of insurance policy,” she observed.

Evan

"I've seen some things that people have mentioned have happened. And honestly that wouldn't be surprising to me." She rubbed at her forehead and then wrinkled her nose. "Hopefully they can at least get creative with the way that they complete the task." Evan crossed her arms over her chest. "How are you feeling about this whole camping thing?" The Switch questioned, trying to make some conversation. It had been a long time since they'd had a long-ish conversation. She couldn't even remember the last time before the text convo they had had during the Florida trip.

Fae

“You mean that wide thing? Yeah, people have only talked to me about that in like...hushed whispers. I still don’t really know what they did.” Fae grinned at where Ev’s train of thought went. “Right? Like something better than ‘their bus went off the road,’ please.” She was grateful for the effort that Evan was making, because she was having a hard time finding conversation material with someone she hadn’t talked to properly in years. “I’m not much of a camper? But I can get some points out of it, have a drink, so it could be worse. How about you? Any of those…” her mind refused to spit out the word for a moment. “Excursions! Any of those excursions you’re excited about?”

Evan

"Yeah, the wide thing in general though. Sounds like people have been through some rough shit here. It's a little surprising." Evan explained. "Exactly! Not really what I'm looking for." The Hummel nodded as Fae expressed her opinion of the trip. "I think that the rock climbing will be fun. And hopefully everything else is exciting too. I'm also excited to get some points. It will be nice to make some progress on that front." She stated, wanting to make the most of every opportunity to get points.

Fae

“It doesn’t totally surprise me...I mean they did offer me a choice between this and jail, so I assumed it had to suck in at least a few ways. But I gotta say I’m a little surprised that they can like...out and out torture people. Even jail usually can’t do that.” Admittedly, she hadn’t spent that much time behind bars, but she knew at least that much. “They’re handy things to have, if you plan on getting out of here,” she smiled a smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “I hope you have a blast with all of it. I don’t think I’ll be much of a rock climber.”

Evan

“It is surprising and a little unsettling. But who knows...it could be the same other places too. So I guess it’s you know...hopefully get out of here as soon as possible.” She noted the change in Fae’s face and hoped they could get back on track. “You don’t think so do you? What about exploring the caves? Do you think you’ll be any good at that?” There was tons of stuff that Evan didn’t know about Fae because the girl had never wanted to let her get to know her. Hopefully this would be the start of that changing. Even if they were never sisters, it would be nice to at least be friends.

Fae

“Could be,” she admitted. “I don’t really know anything about Institutes except what I learned in the flyer on the way here.” As many issues as she’d had with Evan, the last thing she wanted was for her to be stuck in Lima waiting on a claim. “Something tells me you won’t have problems there. People’ll be lining up.” She held up a hand, showing off a slight tremor that wasn’t caused by the coach’s rough movement. “Fine motor control’s not really great for rock climbing. But yeah, the caves actually sound like they could be fun. Long as I don’t get too lost.”

Evan

The compliment from the Hudson was a surprise that she hadn’t been expecting, but she was grateful for it nevertheless. “I don’t know about lining up, but it’s nice to hear.” Evan said. “That makes sense.” She mused, nodding her head slightly, biting down on her bottom lip. “Don’t stray too far from the group and I think you’ll end up just fine.” The Hummel expressed, smiling softly. “Just hoping that our entire trip ends up having nice weather. It would be suck to just be stuck within the tents the entire time.” Evan expressed, glancing out the window as the shuttle took them towards the town.

Fae

“People like to couple up here,” she shrugged. “You’re pretty, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re getting asked for scenes and that kind of thing.” Fae nodded, considering that. “Seems easy enough. We’ll see what happens when the time comes.” They’d actually slid into a fairly seamless conversation, and she didn’t want to stop it if she could help it at all. “Good point...do you know any of the people you’re with?”

Evan

“Scening and ending up with someone though…completely different things. We’ll see though.” The Switch uttered. “Anyone catch your eye?” She wasn’t sure if Fae would answer, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “Nope. None of them in my campsite are anyone that I have ever spoken to before. So that’s...fantastic.” The Switch said, shaking her head slightly and rubbing the back of her neck. “Only have to deal with it for a few hours for a few nights so I think that I can handle it.” Evan stated. “How about you? Do you know anyone that you’re sharing with?”

Fae

The coach turned off and began to slow, indicating that they’d made it into town. “You’re not wrong,” Fae admitted. “But one usually leads to another sooner or later. And all you can do is try, right?” She hesitated, trying to decide how much she wanted to share. “Someone I like...yeah. But I’m not really looking to saddle anyone with me for life.” A frown tugged at her lips, because being on the trip without anyone in her tent that she was friends with or even knew sounded shitty. “That’s good at least. And yeah, I’ve got Sawyer in mine, and Madeline - so two people I know.”

Evan

“Maybe so. But I’m not really in a rush.” Evan admitted, nodding when Fae said that there was someone she liked. “Hopefully you at least have fun with whoever they are.” She continued. “Well, you got lucky then. Good for you, Fae. Hopefully you have some fun.” Evan uttered. It sucked that she was with people she didn’t know, she had to be honest, but at least it was only for a little while each night. She could make it through that without too much of a hassle. When the bus stopped completely, she hopped out of the bus after Fae and glanced around. “So I just need to get a new bathing suit. Because the one I brough decided it had had enough of being a bathing suit.”

Fae

“Oh hell, no. I mean you’ve got lots of time before you’re thirty, and you don’t have to throw yourself at anyone just because you feel rushed.” She nodded, a little smile on her face. “Yeah, we have some fun. We’re doing a scene while we’re here, actually.” It did suck that Evan was stuck with strangers. “Drop by and visit anytime, I’m sure Sawyer would like to see you.” Fae led the way off the bus, wobbling a little on her feet as she waited for Evan. “Oh damn - bad timing. Yeah, there’s probably a dozen places in town that sell ‘em. Pick a direction and I’ll follow after you.”

Evan

“Exactly. As long as I’m sceneing and working on getting the points, I’ll be happy with the progress. There’s someone I talked to who graduated really quickly and didn’t get to take all of the classes that he wanted and I honestly don’t want that for myself. If I’m actually going to leave here with someone I’m supposed to spend forever with, I kind of want to have experienced as much as possible here.” She shrugged. “What are you doing, if you don’t mind me asking? I’m doing a scene as well. And I’m...a little nervous about it.” At the offer, she smiled softly. “Thank you, Fae. I’ll probably take you up on that.” She chuckled and nodding at her words. “Terrible timing but that’s sure what I’m hoping for.” She glanced both ways down the street and then made her way to the left.

Fae

While she didn’t plan on graduating, ever, what Evan was saying made perfect sense - if you were supposed to leave with your claim and knowledge, why rush through it? “Yeah, I can understand that. You’ve got till you’re thirty, so it’s not like you need to be out of here tomorrow.” Fae shook her head. “I don’t mind. We’re doing fire drumming, which is basically what it sounds like. How come yours is worrying you?” Fire was damn scary stuff, especially when you had to trust someone not to burn you. Following after Evan, Fae took the chance to look around the town a little - it was quaint, but still crowded.

Evan

“That sounds pretty exciting honestly. I hope that it’s a good time for you.” When she was questioned about why she was worried, she paused. “We’re trying fire flogging. And I don’t know...I’m just nervous. The person I’m doing it with says that she’s experienced, and I don’t think that she’s lying, but it’s far from what I have ever done before.” Evan answered, surprised that they were actually sharing things like this with one another. It wasn’t something that she had ever imagined would be happening. Finding a small little shop, she stepped inside. If there was nothing there, they could always check out a different place, but she would never know if she didn’t try.

Fae

“I think it should be pretty cool. It’s supposed to be relaxing, or at least that’s what the stuff I read says.” She stayed in step with Evan as they walked, eyes widening when she found out what the Hummel had in mind - she had read about the fire flogging during her research, but that had sounded too intense. “Damn. I mean, color me kind of impressed - I hope it goes okay, and it turns out you didn’t have any reason to be nervous.” She followed Evan inside and let her eyes adjust to the dim light.

Evan

“That sounds nice. I’m hoping that it goes well for you.” Evan smiled, truly hoping that for the other Switch. “I’m hoping that it’s something that I didn’t actually need to be worried about too. But it feels good to be trying something. Even if it’s something that seems this wild. As long as I come out on the other side I will consider it a win.” Evan uttered, shaking her head slightly. “If not, get Saywer to tell my dad I loved him.” She said with a soft laugh. Noting a section of bathing suits near the back, Evan made her way towards them. “So, you willing to tell me honestly if a bikini looks good or bad?”

Fae

“Thanks,” Fae nodded. They were actually cordial, and the conversation was flowing, and that was better than she could have expected. “It’s cool that you’re really going all out for this one, and I hope it goes really well.” She snorted. “I think you’ll be alright, but I’ll pass the message along if that happens.” Following Ev toward the back, Fae nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be my usual brutally honest self.”

Evan

“I appreciate it, regardless.” She smirked when Fae said that she would be her usually brutally honest self. “Perfect. That’s exactly what I need right now. I knew there was a reason that I asked you to come along.” She teased, shaking her head in amusement. The conversation was going pretty smoothly and it was actually a lot easier than Evan had imagined that it would be, and she was grateful. She just hoped that they could continue taking steps forward instead of having them both take steps back after what had begun as a good day.

Fae

“Now it all makes sense,” she agreed with a laugh. “You knew there wasn’t anyone else who’d tell you the truth.” She looked through the racks as they passed, secure in the knowledge that most of what the town sold was to tourists. There was clearly no other explanation for some of it, and she hoped that most people who invested in clothes from the store threw them out immediately on getting home. Otherwise it would just be disheartening.

Evan

Looking through the racks of bathing suits, she found three that were the right size and that she thought might work well with her body and her skin tone. “Alright. I’ll go change into the first and you can tell me what you think.” If Burt and Carole could see them now, they wouldn’t have actually believed it. There was no fighting, Fae wasn’t running away from an interaction with Evan, it was actually good. She slipped on the first bathing suit, a plain black bathing suit that had looked good on the rack, but didn’t quite fit well enough. But she had told Fae she was there to judge and so she would let her. Stepping out of the dressing room, she quirked an eyebrow.

Fae

Amusing herself by watching the other shoppers go by and trying to guess what state they were from, Fae took a seat and waited for Evan to return in the first of her choices. It was hard to believe they’d been in the same place for this long and no one had died, but Fae found that it didn’t upset her. They could be friends, maybe, in time, as long as they didn’t have to be family. Playing candy crush on her phone after the tourist game got boring, she looked up as Evan stepped out and immediately wrinkled her nose. “Nope. Good color on you, but it’s...lumpy. That one’s a fail.”

Evan

She chuckled at Fae’s words and nodded her head. “I thought so too. Glad we’re in agreement with that. Here’s hoping for better with the next one.” She made her way back into the dressing room, setting that suit on the side of the room that she had deemed the nope pile. She slipped into the next suit, a purple choice this time. Evan thought that it fit better and it was definitely a maybe at the very least. She opened the door and placed a hand on her waist. “How do you feel about this one?”

Fae

“I’m glad too, I wouldn’t have wanted to break your heart,” Fae teased. She waited patiently as Evan tried on the second suit, and when she stepped out again she gave the girl a long once-over. “Fit’s definitely better. It suits you. I’m not a hundred percent sold on the color, but I could maybe warm up to it. If you can find something that isn’t purple, though, that might be better.”

Evan

She snorted slightly and shook her head. “If you haven’t broken my heart by now, I doubt there’s anyway that you could.” It might have been pushing it, but they both knew that things hadn’t been good between them and there was no point in trying to pretend that it had been. Moving forward was great if they could, but Evan was pretty sure that the only way that they would be able to move forward was through acknowledging the past. As Fae discussed her opinion on the bathing suit, she nodded. “I’ll put it in the maybe pile then. Maybe the next one will be what I’m looking for.” She stepped into the dressing room and put on the final choice she had from that store. It was similar to the feel and look of the purple with just small changes; but this time in red. She felt sexy in it and thought it might be a good choice, but she had brought a second opinion for a reason (even if part of that reason was because she couldn’t go alone). “So?”

Fae

Fae couldn’t resist laughing at that. They didn’t exactly have a great past, and it was more than a fair comment. “I’d say you’re right about that.” She nodded, letting Evan head back into the room and playing for a few more minutes on her phone before the door opened again and Evan stepped out. If she were boiled in oil she wouldn’t have admitted it, but...Evan actually looked hot. To the point that Fae was jealous. “That’s a winner. Hands down, solid gold, ten point oh. If you’re looking to turn heads on this trip, that’s the one I’d go for.”

Evan

The fact that Fae was offering her so many compliments had Evan knowing that it was the right choice to go with. Fae didn’t owe her anything and so speaking lies about how Evan looked in the bikini was pointless. Smiling, she nodded her head. “Then this is the one. I’ll get changed, pay, and then we’ll go get you that drink that I owe you.” The Switch offered, moving into the changing room for the final time. She changed out of the suit and back into the clothes that she was wearing. Making her way out of the changing room, she headed to the front of the store to offer the worker the payment that was due.

Fae

“Sounds like a plan,” Fae nodded. As Evan disappeared a store security guard wandered by and she immediately tensed up. She was in the store legally, on a trip sponsored by the school, and under supervision the whole time, but it didn’t stop the nerves. It wasn’t as if she’d had many interactions with police that were positive...or any, truth be told. Her hand shook a little more, but she managed a smile as he looked at her and she made a beeline for the cash register just in time to meet Evan there.

Evan

There was something off about Fae when she reached the cash, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Not that the girl would tell her if she was right or not. She just hoped that as they moved forward, they could help her feel better about whatever had just happened. She paid for the bikini and then led the Hudson out of the store. “Alright...um...did you happen to see a place to get a drink when we were walking here? Because if I’m being honest, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Fae

As silly as it might have been, Fae found herself a bit shaken by the encounter. But she dragged her attention back to Evan as she spoke, immediately perking up at the idea of a drink. “Yeah, actually. There’s one across the street and like...two doors back. Looks like kind of a tourist trap, the ones with bartenders who all wish they were in Cocktail, but hopefully it’s bearable.” She pointed in the direction of the bar, which advertised itself with neon lights (even during the daytime, apparently). “Thanks for this. I definitely need a drink.” She didn’t know how many rounds she’d get away with, but anything was better than the craving.

Evan

“Well, I guess you get what you can get.” She winced at the look of the sign, but she knew that there wasn’t much that they could do about it and there probably wasn’t a ton available. As long as the drinks were good, then she supposed that they could deal. And she hoped that maybe they’d have a nice snack or two that Evan could dig into while they were there. She wasn’t sure if Fae would eat, but she could use a bit of food for the rest of the day. Walking towards the bar, she opened the door and let Fae walk in first and choose where they would sit, following after.

Fae

“Just once I want to find a town with a Coyote Ugly bar,” she joked as they walked. “Bunch of gorgeous women who serve drinks and dance on the tables? I mean come on.” Truthfully Fae wasn’t sure any of them were still in business anyway, but it would have been nice. The minute she stepped through the door, it felt like home. The smell of sour beer, the music from the jukebox, the chatter of the crowd - she knew it like the back of her hand. Guiding Evan to a table near the bar, she raised a hand in the air and was immediately found by the bartender. “Sex on acid, please,” she requested, looking to Ev for her order.

Evan

“I have to admit that I definitely wouldn’t complain about that at all. Though the strip bar might be as close as we end up getting.” Evan expressed, smiling at the other. While Fae knew immediately what it was that she wanted to drink, Evan took a quick look at the menu in front of her. “I’ll have the blue lagoon special please. And maybe some potato wedges, thank you.” She expressed, watching the bartender walk away to prepare their drinks and give the order to the kitchen.

Fae

“I have heard good things about the strip club, actually. I wouldn’t mind checking the place out someday.” Her fingers tapped in time to the music as she looked around, taking the place in. It was well-lit, the floor painted in a dark swirling pattern - much nicer than her usual haunt. “You know what this reminds me of?” she asked, snapping her fingers. “Hotel bar back home. The...Marriott, maybe. They had carpet, though...in a bar. Which honestly seemed like the worst idea of all time.”

Evan

“Yeah, I’ve heard good things too. Might not be a bad thing to go see.” She mused. “Hm?” The sound left her as Fae began her thought before she chuckled and nodded in agreement. “That was honestly the worst idea ever. I can’t even imagine who thought that was a good idea. Beyond dropping drinks, dropping food, dropping people...it seems like a complete disaster waiting to happen.” She mused, shaking her head. “Can only imagine how hated the carpet is by the people that work there.”

Fae

“If you get there before me, send me a review,” Fae grinned. “I’ll look forward to hearing all about it.” Nodding instant agreement, she tapped vigorously on the table. “Exactly! What kind of nitwit would actually think it was a good idea? I cannot imagine how many years of spilled beer and food was in that carpet. It used to be a bet, my friends and I - if anyone would put their mouth to the carpet we’d buy drinks for them for a month. And literally no one ever did it.” Which said something, given how much they loved to drink. As if summoned by magic, their drinks arrived.

Evan

“I’ll be sure to do that so long as you do the same for me if you get there first.” She paused. “Could always just go together and then we don’t have to worry about sending a review at all.” Evan wasn’t sure what Fae would say to that, but it was an idea and it was out there. If Fae said no, Evan wouldn’t be surprised and so it wouldn’t really hurt. It would be far from the first time that Fae had avoided doing something with her and at this point, Evan was just used to it. “Oh god...that is disgusting. I have some more respect for your friends that no one ever did it.” She said with a laugh. As the drinks arrived, she thanked the bartender and took a sip. It was pretty good, something she may order again.

Fae

“Fair deal.” Evan’s next statement made her pause. Until now she’d have immediately said no, possibly with a few choice words thrown in. But so far, at least in this one controlled experiment, they’d occupied the same space at the same time without either of them ending up hurt by what the other had to say. “Tell you what - let me know when you’re thinking of going, and if I’m free we can do that.” It was an olive branch, the sort of thing she’d talked about with Madeline, and it was worth a try. “I’m surprised I never did it, honestly, for a month of free drinks.” She palmed the shot carefully and slammed it back, not even blinking as it hit her throat. “That’s the stuff.”

Evan

She had been expecting a flat out no. A no that was so loud and so strong that Sawyer would have heard it back at the camp. And yet, that’s not what happened. It wasn’t a yes. Fae could still end up saying no down the road when Evan actually asked her to go again. But it was something. It was more than she would have gotten in the past. “Alright, sounds good.” She agreed, not wanting to be silent and make Fae seem like she wasn’t happy with that idea. It was something, however, that she wasn’t going to tell Sawyer, Eli, or anyone else from the Hummel clan though. “Want another?”

Fae

This careful peace between them might be too good to last, but at least it was holding for the moment. “I do, but you only promised one drink - I can take of round two when you’re ready for another.” Already she felt better, the familiar feeling of alcohol in her blood lessening the symptoms of being without for too long. Their potato skins arrived and she was surprised to find she could actually eat - they were deep fried and smelled perfect, and the bacon they were topped with was crispy and plentiful.

Evan

She hummed thoughtfully when Fae said that she would take the next round and she nodded her head in agreement. “Sounds good to me.” She spent the next little while finishing up her drink and had just finished when the food arrived. “Perfect. Thank you. Can I get another? Same drink as before please.” Evan expressed, turning her attention to the food. “That looks so damn good.”

Fae

“Another for me as well,” Fae greeted the waiter. Things were better now, she could relax and know that she wouldn’t start to shake in the middle of their meal. “It really does. That’s perfect bar food right there.” Not that tended to eat a lot when she was drinking, but she’d been in enough bars in her lifetime to know what a good snack looked like. “Mind if I grab one of those?”

Evan

"I don't mind at all. Go ahead, Fae." She responded, offering a smile as she took her own piece of the potato. She took a bite and hummed. "Delicious." She put a bit of the garlic aioli sauce that they offered on her next bite and moaned. "That's even better. So much better." She offered the dip to Fae so that the Hudson could try some as well.

Fae

“Thanks,” Fae grabbed herself one of the skins and bit into it, the combination of crunchy potato and cheese and bacon filling her senses. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until that first bite. “Really delicious,” she agreed, washing it down with some of the water they’d each been poured. “Ooh,” she murmured as she added a bit of the dip and took another bite. “Damn, that’s good.”

Evan

"Who knew this place was going to have such awesome food. I wonder if the rest of their menu is this good." Evan mused, finishing off the first skin before grabbing another. She was extremely famished and was glad to finally have some food in her system. The day together had gone well and part of Evan didn't want it to end, but she also didn't want to push it too far.

Fae

Swallowing her mouthful of food, Fae nodded. “It’s kind of a hidden gem, I gotta say. Even the drinks are alright, and they knew how to make a decent Sex on Acid without any prompting. If I was the kind of person to leave yelp reviews, they’d get a good one.” She shamelessly helped herself to another of the skins as well, glad to see the second round of drinks arrive.

Evan

She chuckled and nodded her head. "Maybe I'll leave a review for us them." Fae may not be the type, but Evan had left a few reviews in her lifetime. As the drinks arrived, she thanked the bartender again and took a long sip. It was delicious and definitely a way that would cool her down. Though she was also glad that she had a new bikini so that she could hop in the water when they got back to the camp.

Fae

“Fair enough,” Fae chuckled. When her second round arrived she reached out with one hand to hold the bartender before palming her shot with the other and tossing it back. “One more, please,” she handed the glass back and returned her attention to Evan. “What are you up to with the rest of your day?”

Evan

"I'm not too sure as of right now. I'll probably go swimming at some point and then maybe just hang out around where the camp fire will be. I have my scene tomorrow so I want to be well rested for that if I'm being honest." She drank this next drink slowly and glanced at the time on her phone. "We should probably head back after your next drink." She mused, glancing down at the quickly demolished potato skins. "What are you planning to do the rest of the day?"

Fae

While part of her - or most of her - would have been much more content to stay where she was and enjoy the cool of the bar for a while longer, three drinks would be enough to let her fly for the rest of the day. So she could let that go. “Makes sense. Sounds like the kind of thing that could really take a lot out of you, so resting up is a good plan.” The thought of being flogged with something that was on fire was enough to make her wince. “I’m not sure, honestly. I’ll probably just lay on the beach and listen to music or something. I don’t really have a lot of plans for while I’m here.”

Evan

"Yeah, I'm not too sure what it's going to be like so it can't hurt to prepare myself however I can." Evan expressed before listening to Fae's explanation of whay she would be doing. "That makes sense. Can't hurt to just take advantage of no classes regardless of where you are. Hopefully you have fun no matter what you do." She mused, finishing off her drink.

#thread: raise your glass #c: evan

1 note · View note