#ALSO if any of the owners want me to fix anything in the ids let me know .. in case i made any mistake describing your little guy

[ba1laur]

dumpy

[dreamerandthedarkhalf]

One of the best parts about the beloved blue hellsite is that I get to curate my own experience, block people who are unhealthy for me, and generally live in an echo chamber of people who seem to believe we ought to be taking care of each other and the planet. But it's an election year in the United States and that is unfortunately a global issue. Here are some of the screenshots I've captured from people who are deeply convinced that voting for a convicted felon is their patriotic duty. (These screenshots are NOT anything CLOSE to things I believe and generally these screenshots just make me feel pretty nauseous. I'm sharing because I think the anxiety so many of us feel in regards to this November is very, very real).

[screenshot of black words on a white background. text reads: "Very soon, the same people who shut down your businesses and hampered your careers will be asking that you re-elect them so they can keep theirs. Never forget what they did to you." A red "X" is at the bottom center after the text.]

[screenshot of a picture with a young Donald Trump in front of a black sign with a red curtain. text reads: "Did you know: The 14th of June, 1946 is the birthday of a boy born in the Jamaica district of Queens, NYC. In 1995, his car has a flat tire. A black man walking by notices it's owner is wearing a suit. So he fixes the flat. 'How can I repay you?' asks our birthday boy. 'My wife has always wanted some flowers' A few days later, the black man's wife gets a beautiful bouqet of flowers with a note saying, 'Thanks for helping me. By the way,..... the mortgage on your house is paid off.' A USMC Sargent spends 7 months in a Mexican prison for a minor charge. He is beaten. The man from Queens sends him a check for $25,000 'To get you started.' A black bus driver saves a suicidal girl from jumping off a bridge. Our Queens man sends him a check for $10,000. A rabbi's critically ill son needs to get from NYC to California for specialty care. No airlines will fly him. The generous man pays for a private flight for the child. This kind man form Queens commits many other 'quiet acts of random kindness.' A wise man once said 'If a man's heart is good,..... Nothing else matters. And if a man's heart is bad,..... Nothing else matters.' Who is this kind man? #DonaldJTrump, a man with a good heart. Let's gooooo 2024"] The same people who believe the 45th President is a fantastic human being and not the third worst President in the history of the United States also believe LGBTQIA+ / queer people shouldn't be allowed to exist.

[screenshot of several pages. text reads: "There is an anti-LGBTQ+ internet censorship bill that has unfortunately passed in Kansas. It requires you to use your ID verification for any site that involves LGBTQ existence, which are now labeled as 'harmful to minors'. This bill aligns with KOSA (Kids Online Safety Act)."] More of the text of the actual bill is highlighted in other parts of the screenshot. I've seen a not-insignificant amount of people saying, "voting blue won't help nearly as much as you think" or discouraging people from voting in general. I understand the disenfranchisement with the current system. I also have a lot of depression and anxiety about how much "interesting times" we live in (and how I REALLY just want to go back to living in boring times, if there ever was such a thing). I also feel as though we don't really have any good options at all. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that certain people out there want to watch the world burn and they're the match. The Intercept published a story on 31 January 2017 about how the FBI quietly investigated white supremacist infiltration of law enforcement within the United States. The Presidency of the United States had just peacefully transferred between former President Barack Obama and DJT, which means the FBI's investigation found these behaviors in law enforcement from a period when Democrats were the majority in the White House, the House of Representatives, and the Senate. The investigation was initiated and provided funding by those Democratic leaders because they thought something might be going on. But as soon as DJT took control, funding for that investigation was removed (as well as a bunch of other stuff), which means no action was taken to remove that influence from law enforcement establishments. There's a lot of research out there on how hate crimes in 2020 were higher than they'd been since 2008. I know there's a LOT of people out there who have done more research and posted better rundowns of everything causing us anxiety and I encourage research and knowledge-gathering. I've seen many articulate posts about the accomplishments of Biden's administration. This wonderful person also did a great video that breaks down the likely future, depending on this election.

Anyway. Here's a link on how and where to vote in the United States. https://www.usa.gov/how-to-vote

Every state has its own voter registration deadline. Find yours to make sure you can register in time to vote.

Every state except North Dakota requires people to register if they want to become voters. Depending on your state, the registration deadline could be as much as a month before an election. Check the U.S. Vote Foundation to find your state's voter registration deadline. You can also check your state or territory's election office for more details.

[rjalker]

go ahead and prove me wrong then. I'll wait.

Everybody ready your bingo cards! Lets see what this person has to say to prove me wrong.

anyways

[ID: Two cropped screenshots of an interview with Martha Wells where she says first: "The mission of a SecUnit is to protect humans. When it is ordered to kill humans, that’s a profound disruption of its core programming. There is probably a high correlation between SecUnits forced to kill humans and SecUnits who find a way to go rogue. That’s why the company will wipe the constructs’ memories after events where they were ordered to kill humans. Also, you know, they’re destroying evidence of those events. But constructs’ human neural tissue will often retain some of those memories." then: "Yes, it’s stated that it prefers fictional humans. Fictional humans can’t hurt it. If they do something it doesn’t like, it can just fast forward the show. And again, fundamentally, it is meant to protect humans. It can’t help getting attached to some of them." End ID.]

go ahead and show me where in seven whole books and two short stories now that Murderbot has been allowed to be happy, and allowed to do anything except be a meat shield for slave owners. I will wait.

Actually I do in fact demand that you actually take pictures of your book pages or find me screenshots or just copy text to prove that you are not just making shit up and using the bare minimum surface reading of the book as your argument that I have no critical thinking skills.

Because If I had no critical thinking skills and no comprehension of what I have read when I am reading the murderbot diaries literally six times over at this point, I would be agreeing with you, but I have actually taken the time to actually understand what the book is telling me which is what you believe, and what it is actually showing me, which is that murderbot is never going to be allowed to do anything except keep being a meat shield for slave owners forever and this will be portrayed as a good thing instead of an absolute fucking tragedy, because this is simply it's basic biological function that is core programmed into it and Martha Wells wants us to think this is a good thing instead of one of the worst nightmare scenarios you can put a character through, which thousands of science fiction stories have understood before her, but she just thinks that biological essentialism is a good thing because it puts things into neat little rigid logical boxes that she loves even when it means defending slavery defending misogyny and defending ableism.

These books tell you on the surface level that it is a good thing that murderbot is just re-traumatizing itself over and over again putting itself in endangered to literally keep being a meat shield for slave owners. Are you telling me that that is in fact actually a good thing? Are you arguing to me right now that it is a good thing and a happy thing that murderbot keeps going back to use itself as a meat shield for slave owners? Is that what you're arguing? That it's a good thing that murderbot will always be a meat shield? Will never be given any opportunity to be anything else?

Do you think it's a good thing that murderbot was staring so longingly at the clothes in that catalog that it knew it couldn't buy because if it wore the clothes it wants to wear it would get in trouble and that has never been brought up since and it has never been given the opportunity to wear such clothing ever?

It's been seven whole years plus since this series began and murderbot has literally never once been allowed to be happy. If you're keeping your hopes up that book eight will somehow fix everything and murderbot will stop being a meat shield and will find value in itself outside of being a literal fucking meat shield for slavers and will actually get to do things that make it happy besides doing everything it was literally enslaved to do ie being a fucking meat shield, I don't know what to tell you anymore you're just very gullible.

And if you think it's positive that murderbot has no value outside of being a meat shield, yeah that's you literally just following along the surface level statements that the book wants you to make of slavery apologism racism and ableism.

Literally resisting the urge to burst into tears right now because we're literally not supposed to want Murderbot to be happy or safe. We're supposed to want it to keep being a literal fucking meatshield for its slave owners forever. We're not supposed to want it to be happy. We're not supposed to want it to be able to buy the clothes it wanted from that catalogue. We're not supposed to want it to be happy. It's literally making me fucking cry. Martha Wells is so fucking racist she writes a whole entire story about a slave and we're not supposed to want it to actually be free. We're not supposed to want it to be happy.

[fandom-puff]

Mating

Pairing: Remus Lupin X Reader

Requested by: anon

Summary: you’ve done a good enough job of covering up your attraction to your new colleague... that is until the moon cycle heightens his senses...

AN: I’m getting there with these requests! I’ve been going through them at my own pace- sorry if I’ve rejected your request though- id rather not write it if I don’t have the inspiration to do so 💖💖💖

Also I went to TOWN on this one, so feedback is greatly appreciated !!

Gif creds to owner as usual x

Warnings: rough, possessive sex, swearing, breeding kink , werewolf tricks (scents, mating, knotting)

Drawing your robe tighter around yourself, silently cursing Severus for putting people in detention. You had agreed to take over his patrols for the night, when in reality, you wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Sighing, you held your lit wand out in front of you, walking up the corridor, occasionally nodding at a passing ghost, telling Peeves to bugger off, greeting snoozing portraits...

The silence of the dark corridors allowed you to mull over your thoughts, figure out some lesson plans, what you would get people for christmas the next time you visited Hogsmeade, but as usual, your train of thought wandered, soon landing on a particular Professor. Smiling dumbly to yourself, you pictures him in your mind, from his grey-flecked hair to his shabby, patched robes; his kind, tired eyes to his light stubble and moustache; his trim chest to his long, elegant fingers...

Shuddering slightly, you tugged your lip between your teeth. What that man could do with his fingers, you mused, remembering at dinner earlier that evening, watching as he wrapped his hands around his goblet- you came to the conclusion that those fingers would look much better wrapped around your throat...

You were so lost in your thoughts that you bumped headlong into the object of your desires. How did you know it was him? Was it his gentle hands grasping your arms to stop you falling backwards? Was it the gentle words he uttered asking if you were okay? No. It was his scent, of all things, which lingered on his comfy knitted jumper- tea and books and... the forbidden forest... you couldn’t help but inhale a few gulps before mumbling your apology, making to move past him. Those hands grabbed your arm again, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“Why not walk with me, YN? Your patrol won’t be as lonely,” he said kindly, smiling down at you. You could see a slight glint of his white teeth in the wandlight as you nodded. Together and in relative silence, you strolled the corridors, occasionally murmuring to one another- yes the weather had been a bit rubbish lately, that book is excellent, no I didn’t know it’s the full moon in three days...

You knew about remus’s condition, as everyone on the staff did. Why was he bringing it up? Did he think you were scared? Did he think you would run away once it clicked? You didn’t care that he was a werewolf, of course you didn’t. If anything, it often made you wonder what he was like in bed before the Full moon. He seemed tired all the time, but you had read about mating- would mild-mannered Remus Lupin evolve into a primal beast? Would he dig his nails into your skin as he got carried away? Would he fuck you from behind like an animal? Did he have a deep-rooted urge to fill you with his seed and watch you swell with his pups...?

“YN? You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Remus’s voice shook you from your depraved thoughts.

“Hmm?” You asked, letting out a shaky breath. Your knees were wobbly and you could feel heat and wetness pooling in your knickers. You would most certainly be fucking yourself tonight thinking of him.

“I said we’re at my rooms. You’re very welcome to come in for a cup of tea if you like? Might have something stronger in a cupboard somewhere for a nightcap,” he said, smirking slightly. Were your eyes deceiving you or did he just lick his lips?

“I... Er... yes please?” You said, nibbling your lip. Your midnight masturbation would have to wait tonight it seemed. You took a seat on one of Lupin’s armchairs as he pottered about the kitchenette, fixing tea for you both. He soon carried it over and sat opposite you as you sipped at your drinks, once again silent. Remus inhaled deeply through his nose and leg out a soft sigh, before fixing you with a stare, his eyes flashing amber- or was that just the firelight playing tricks?

“God, I wish I was a legilimens,” he hummed. You frowned, cocking up your eye brow and setting your teacup down.

“Why’s that?” You asked, leaning forward, your lips slightly parted.

“Because I’d be able to figure out what’s got you so aroused,” he murmured. You gulped, biting your lip hard as you stared at one another before your lips were smashed together in a messy, desperate kiss. Your teeth clashed and you were both grabbing handfuls of the other’s hair as Remus pulled you into his lap, moaning lowly. “I guess that answers that question,” he grunted as you tipped your head back and sighed.

“H-how did you know?” You gasped as his teeth scraped right over your pulse point.

“Your eyes glaze over when you daydream,” he grinned, nibbling your earlobe. “And do you want to know a lesser-known fact about werewolves?” You nodded eagerly, your nails scraping over his scalp. “Around and on the full moon, our senses peak. Touch, hearing, sight, taste... smell... I could smell your arousal before we were even on the same corridor, YN... now tell me... was that all for me?”

You shuddered as his growl vibrates through your throat. “Yes!” You whimpered, trying to grind on him, but there were too many layers between you both and you whined out dejectedly. “A-all for you, Remus, f-for ages now!” Remus grunted and licked at the blood vessel at the side of your neck, you pulse throbbing against his tongue.

“I know, darling. Moony knows...” you sighed softly, eyes rolling back as you felt gentle hands on your waist, stilling your movements. “If we carry on, YN... Moony will take over. He will claim you as his mate, eternally. If that is what you want, I am more than happy to oblige, but if you are even a shred unsure, please leave my chambers. We can discuss this after the moon when it is safe-”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. “I want this. I’ve wanted this for ages... please, remus, I’m yours. I’ve felt... drawn to you since we met. It makes sense,”

He smiled weakly. “You understand what you are getting yourself into, this close to the moon? Our first coupling together will not be tender. Passionate, most certainly, but by no means gentle,” you could feel his hands trembling from the effort of keeping control.

“I’m yours, remus,” you whispered, bringing one of his hands down to cup your soaked, clothed heat, biting your lip hard. “I want this. Please, remus, mate with me,”

It was as if something snapped inside him. Without the aid of your hand, he pressed his hand into your heat, feeling how slick you were even through your knickers, attacking your neck with feverish kisses as you rutted against his hand, the heel of his palm mashing into your clit in the most deliciously searing way. Reluctantly, remus pulled his hand away, kissing away your whimpers of protest as he carried you to his bedroom, flinging you down on the bed and hovering over you, his thumb and forefinger tracing the hem of your shirt. “Take it off, remus,” you begged, and he was all too happy to oblige, soon stripping you to your underwear. Gulping, he looked you in the eye as he trailed one finger up your navel, grinning as you shivered and arched your back. “Need to feel you, Remus, please!” You pleaded. Normally, remus would be unwilling to undress fully, ashamed of his scars, but this close to the Moon, he had only one thing on his mind. Almost comically quickly, he tugged his jumper, shirt and trousers off, kicking them aside, practically pouncing on you to kiss you again. You pouted at not being quite able to see his erection straining at his boxers, but were quickly consoled when you felt it pressing hard against your thighs.

“Remus!” You moaned, trailing your hands up his strong back, your fingertips dancing over the silvery ridges of his scars, clutching onto him as though your life depended on it. You could feel the heat radiating off him, hear his pulse quickening just like your own, hear him panting above you. You were so close to him, yet so far, your underwear providing an unbearably wide wall between you both as you longed to feel him against your most sensitive parts. As if reading your mind, remus briefly pulled away and with a flick of his wand, you were both completely bare. Mouth ajar, you eyed up his cock, feeling your cunt clench around nothing at just the thought of accommodating his throbbing length and girth. Sensing your worry, remus nuzzled his face into your neck and kissed your pulse point gently. “I won’t hurt you, darling,” he whispered. “Nor will Moony,” nodding, you spread your legs. Remus groaned as he inhaled, already getting drunk off the scent of your soaked nether region. “Another time, my dear, I am going to drink from your cunt until you can’t come any more,”

You shivered and nodded, biting your lip. “That had best be a promise,” you moaned out, pushing his hair out of his face, breathy gasps and moans escaping you as you felt the bulbous head of his cock tapping against your throbbing clit. “Please, remus,” you begged, your legs moving instinctively to wrap around him.

Your begging was all he needed. He pushed his thick cock into you, stretching you out, grasping your hips to stop your wiggling as he revelled in the soaking heat of your clenching channel, soon moving his hands to grasp your thighs and hold them further apart. “I am going to mate with you, yn,” he growled. “I am going to claim you as mine, and I will be yours. I will fill you with my seed until your swollen with my pups. And when I come, you will feel my cock swell inside you to make sure my seed takes root,”

The filth spewing from his lips had your head reeling, and you bucked your hips up eagerly, begging him to do all of those things as he began fucking you relentlessly, the sounds of skin slapping and the wet noises of your coupling filling the small room as you gripped onto eachother. Remus’s lips found yours and you moaned loudly into his mouth as his tongue collided with yours before he sucked on it gently, sending jolts of pleasure sizzling through your every nerve. You had never felt more alive, more full, more worshiped than you did in that moment, your nails dug into remus’s arms as his thrusting became sloppy as he neared his end. “P-please don’t stop, Remus! Don’t pull out, please! Need to feel you fill me up properly!” You cried, your head resting on his shoulder. Remus grunted and nodded, his hips snapping hard against yours as he neared his peak.

“Bite my neck, YN, love!” He grunted. “Mark me as your mate while I do the same to- Ah! Fuck! Good girl!” You sunk your teeth into his pulse point, sucking harshly. Instinctively, you knew just where to bite, and you gently licked over the wound, moaning lowly as you felt the base of his cock begin to swell as he stilled inside you, the first spurt of cum painting your walls as his groaned out lowly. He basked in his orgasm for a brief moment, before leaning down to suck and bite your neck the same way you had.

You screamed.

The bite to your neck caused a white-hot surge of pleasure to rip through you as you felt your trembling body come undone, your stretched walls clenching tight around Remus’s swollen cock, milking every last drop out of him as you panted, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure and the rush of hormones your mating had caused.

Cooing gently, remus lowered you carefully onto your side, facing him, his cock still swollen inside you for the time being. The slight movement had you whimpering and Reaching up to kiss him messily. “I love you,” you moaned, hiding your face in his neck as your body relaxed.

Remus smiled gently and kissed your head and face over and over, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I’m sorry it was so intense, darling. It’s not always like that, I promise,” he whispered.

“N-no... I loved that. The connection, both emotional and... physical,” you reached up and stroked the tender bite at your throat, shuddering as it twinged. “I am yours,” you murmured, reaching to kiss him gently.

“And I am yours,” he responded, stroking your hair. “My beautiful, beautiful mate, I love you,”

Soon, his cock softened enough to slip out of you, and you groaned softly, already very achey from your coupling. Remus smiled apologetically and spelled away the remnants of your pleasure, tugging the covers up around you. Instinctively, you massaged your lower belly, although you knew it was unlikely that he had knocked you up so soon, especially as you were on wizarding contraceptives. You frowned slightly, a sad twinge rattling your innermost instincts. Remus laughed gently.

“Soon, sweetheart. Soon you will swell with my pups. Just not quite yet,” he said gently, knowing that your mating would have unlocked something deep rooted in your instincts, something rather maternal. You pouted a little but nodded, curling into his side. He was right. There would be plenty of time for breeding later. Before then, you and your mate had some catching up to do before the full moon...

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @justanotherwildstar @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @dracosbbygorl

[salt-volk]

I've been trying to figure out if I should comment here again - I've been debating whether or not it will make things worse, or if it's worth commenting instead of just reading all of these assumptions and false information and just letting people assume. I've had a contentious relationship with this blog and others in the past, and I really just want to enjoy what's left to DV in peace. I decided to write this post and maybe participate more actively in any conversation surrounding me in the hopes that I might be able to diffuse any tension and stop people from spreading false info. I have had a couple MB (moon bunny) trades from bunnies 1-10ish where folks had traded their halves in advance. These people actually offered it without me prompting, and I also made them aware that there's a waitlist. If there was any issue, I truly would have hoped that any of these users might have reached out to me before coming to this blog. I believe in updating the people who are invested in my trades, and I have 5ish update notes I sent out to everyone who had a trade with me over the course of waiting for the moon bunnies to arrive. Nobody has messaged me to complain about my trades or the ID numbers they've received. If anyone is unhappy with their side of the trade, please please reach out to me so that I may fix it. To the person slandering me on here without having actually spoken to me at all; it's really hurtful, and I really wish you would stop. I traded for a croc a couple weeks ago - this was a legitimate trade. The croc owner was not on my waitlist by mistake. There have been a couple custom owners who reached out to me because I had forgotten to put them on the list, and the croc owner is one of them that I had forgotten to add. I don't ask for payment up front, but if someone offers it, I don't say no. Again, if anyone is unhappy with a trade, please reach out to me - I'm sure we can work something out, whether I hatch another bun for you and swap them, etc. As to the comments about me trading my Luna's likeness away; I don't view it this way. I brought Luna to this site so that he can live on in some way, and to share an adorable pixel of him with the community. Luna was a very loving bunny, and he also loved attention - so I know he'd be happy to know that all of his little minions are being loved and fed (food was one of his favorite things). I'm in no way saying that memorial customs are good or bad, or whether they should be allowed - just that this is what I intended for the MBs, and I'm happy with it. I've come to peace with not having control over the bunnies after they leave my burrow. But before they do, I make sure they're super lucky so that Luna can bring a little luck to everyone he meets. So far, everyone I've traded with has been neutral or happy to have +3 luck MBs in these trades. Nobody has said anything to me otherwise - I've had two people ask me if they could hatch, and I've said no to both. I believe they were good-faith asks to genuinely help me with the list.

I don't let others hatch the MBs because I don't trust people to keep them all +3 luck. Considering some people on here have very strong opinions about my 3L MBs (weird stance, but sure) and getting to hatch their own. There's also significantly more important topics here than me (why is it October with no summer event??), and I beg you to find something else to entertain yourselves. I don't like being the topic of conversation - I am very shy and avoid attention whenever possible in real life. I think two and a half years is enough time to analyze my actions on a petsite, don't you think? And yes... my original Karen post was not great. That's why I promptly deleted it, but not before someone had screenshotted it on the 3 minutes it was up and posted it on the original blog. To provide context to that (keep in mind this was two and a half years ago) - my abusive manager kept calling me a karen whenever he felt he needed to undermine any legitimate concerns I had about things going on in the company. I eventually left the company. IDK if any of this will help or make things worse, but my silence didn't make it stop so I figured why not give this a try.

.

[reidgraygubler]

going in blind (luke alvez/reader)

{image id: gif of luke alvez holding two long sleeved button ups, the one on the left is gray and the one on the right is blue. A german shepard is in the foreground. the caption reads “the blue or the grey? hmm?” end image id}

Title: Going In Blind

Request: No

Couple: Luke Alvez with Visually Impaired Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: swearing (if any), mentions of service/guide animals, mentions of serving in the army, brief mentions of PTSD, blind/visually impared!reader, if I missed anything or something else needs to be tagged, please message me and I will fix that! 

Word Count: 2,885

Summary: Penelope sets Luke up on a blind date with one of her friends… What could possibly go wrong…?

Author’s Note: Welcome to day two of my 7 fics in 7 days event! We have more firsts with this piece of work. I tried my hardest to make this be screen reader-friendly, if this has any problems with that, please let me know. This also blocks off a square on my third (i know) bingo card. It’s for the blind date square on the @cmbingo​ card! Thank you all so much for the love and support!  Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Are you on tinder?” Penelope asked, looking over Luke’s shoulder. Luke was quick, jumping as he put his phone face down on his desk. 

“What? No!” He looked over at his friend and colleague. He swallowed roughly, knowing that there was no way out of this one. Penelope already had the tools to find the truth. There was really no use hiding that from a woman like Penelope. Even if she wasn’t one of the best hackers he knew, Penelope would have worked it out of him no matter what. 

“It looked like you were on tinder, Newbie,” she glared at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. Luke looked down at his phone for a brief moment, before looking up at his friend.

“He’s definitely doing something,” Spencer chimed in, looking away from his book. “He’s been picking up his phone and looking at it every other minute. That’s not an exaggeration,” he spoke looking back down at his book. Penelope looked back down at Luke with an excited smile. 

“Yes, fine, I was on Tinder. It’s been awhile since things ended with Lisa and I wanted to… put myself out there, as some would say,” Luke spoke as he gestured towards his phone, “and, tinder is a viable way of doing that,” he looked up at his friend and shrugged. 

“What if I set you up on a blind date?" Penelope smiled as she looked down at her co-worker. 

“I… I guess… you can do that," he replied, furrowing his eyebrows. He wasn't too sure what to expect from Penelope when it came to a blind date. 

“Oh sweetness! I know the perfect person!” Penelope clapped her hands together as she looked back at Luke. "I'll give them your number! And then you guys can plan a date or something!" she looked down at her friend with excitement. 

{***}

"Roxy, blue or gray?" Luke looked at the German Shepard that was sitting on his bed. Roxy tilted her head to the side as she looked at her owner. Luke groaned as he looked at his pet, tossing both the shirts to his bed. He looked at the two clothing items before picking up the navy blue shirt and holding it to his chest. 

“Blue might be best. Who doesn’t love blue?” he looked over at Roxxy with a smile before changing into the shirt. “Alright, Roxxy, wish me luck,” Luke whispered as he rubbed the dog’s head. With one last look at the animal, Luke left, hoping to make it there on time. 

Unfortunately for him, time was not on his side and traffic ended up being his new friend. And when he did finally make it to the restaurant, he was a few minutes late. He rushed to the table, hoping they’d still be there.

“So sorry I’m late, I was trying to pick what color of shirt to wear and then traffic was a nightmare on the way here,” Luke chuckled as he sat down at the table across from them. They smiled and nodded, folding their hands over the table.

“Oh, oh it’s okay, really. I was a little nervous myself,” they laughed as they lifted a hand to their chest as they spoke. Luke looked at them and smiled. He silently prayed that this date wouldn’t crash and burn like previous dates he had been on.

But, little did he know, they were doing the same thing. They couldn’t even count how many dates they had gone on that failed harder than a teen who didn’t study for a test. They went into this date expecting it to have a bad outcome.

“Which color did you pick?” they asked like it was no big deal, like maybe he already knew the biggest, most obvious fact about them. They would have assumed that Penelope told him.

“Well, I, uh, I wore the blue shirt… I wasn’t sure which color to wear,” Luke laughed, watching as they started playing with their hands. 

“So that’s what color it is,” they laughed lightly before blinking. The smile they had on their lips was very genuine. They were excited. Of course they were excited, someone was going on a date with them. And, so far so good, right?

Or, so they thought...

“I don’t… I don’t get it… Am I missing something,” Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at them. They had their hands resting in their lap. As a certain nervousness took over, they began pulling at their fingers, popping each knuckle. 

“Did Penelope not tell you,” they nervously chuckled, blinking slowly as they shifted in their seat. 

“Tell me…? Tell me what?” 

“I’m blind,” they chuckled again. The silence that fell between both of them was tense. It was obvious that Luke had no clue that they were blind. Of course, they went into this blind date knowing whoever it was might not have known it was a literal blind date. It wouldn’t have been the first, or last, time Penelope left that detail out. 

“Oh… Oh… I’m… I’m so sorry,” Luke muttered as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They laughed and shook their head.

“It’s okay. Really, it’s fine. I knew Penelope probably didn’t tell you,” they chuckled lightly before shrugging.

“I don’t know why Penelope didn’t mention that you… you’re blind,” Luke laughed as he brought his glass to his lips. They laughed and shook their head.

“I honestly wouldn’t put it past her… Wouldn’t be the first time she’s done that to me,” they smiled, reaching their hand out to feel for their glass of water. “Well, I’m not totally blind. I can see shapes if they’re being backlit. So, like if someone was standing in front of the sun,” their smiled and nodded before bringing the glass to their lips. After taking a sip, they carefully placed the cup back on the table. “Does that make sense?” they cocked their head to the side.

“Yeah, yeah it makes sense,” Luke nodded as he looked at them, “So, I picked a pretty good spot then, huh?” he asked as he realized that he was facing away from the sun. 

“Well, I was the one who picked the spot, silly,” they couldn’t help but laugh. Luke felt somewhat comforted by their laughter, laughing lightly in return. “I knew the window seat would help me in that. It’s nice having the shape of my date,” they kept laughing. In their head that made sense, but thinking back about it now, they weren’t too sure if it made sense out loud. 

“How… How did you go blind? If you don’t mind me asking,” Luke asked, his voice soft as he spoke. He wasn’t too sure if it was insensitive to ask that, but he was genuinely curious. If he didn’t find out through them, he would have just asked Penelope. 

“Oh, uh, yeah you can ask,” they laughed again. Luke smiled, it was clear he really liked their laughter. Part of him was happy they couldn’t see how he looked at them. But the other part of him was upset that he couldn’t share the same things he saw with them. “I went blind when I was really young. I was like 5. If it wasn’t a million dollar word that you probably didn’t understand, I’d say it. But, I basically went blind because of an illness,” they smiled and nodded. 

“Wow, I… I can’t even imagine…” Luke started but let his words trail off. Of course, how would anyone ever imagine being blind at such a young age? But they’ve heard that from so many people, and not just people they went on dates with, but friends, nurses, strangers on the street, and even family. They didn’t let it bother them though. 

“Yeah, the number of times I’ve heard that,” they shrugged as they reached out for their glass of water again, “Trust me, it’s fine. I’ve been blind all my life, basically. I’m like a professional at it or something,” a small snicker came from them. 

“Do you have a service animal?” Luke asked, watching as they expertly placed their water back down. 

“His name is Pickles,” they smiled as they dropped their head down, “He’s a Labradoodle,” they felt happiness spread through their body as they talked more about their pet. Although, he was more than just a pet, than just a dog to them. Pickles was basically their best friend and family. 

“I bet your Pickles and my Roxxy would be great friends,” Luke enthused with a laugh. Their head jerked up as if they looked at him the second he mentioned having a dog. 

“Is Roxy a service animal?” they asked, resting their hands on the table. Luke smiled and nodded.

“Roxy helps with my PTSS…” he supplied a proper answer when he realized they didn’t see the nod. 

“Oh my goodness,” they whispered, a sudden anxiety grew in their stomach as they thought of what to say next. But, they didn’t really know what to say. 

“It’s all good now. Roxy’s my best friend. I’d be lost without her,” Luke swallowed roughly before nodding again.

“When did you serve? Where did you serve?” they asked, cocking their head to their shoulder. 

“Uh, several years ago now. I served as part of the 75th Rangers  in Iraq… with the U.S. Army,” his words got quiet as he spoke, but they were just loud enough for them to hear. They smiled and nodded.

“Thank you for your service, Luke,” the date whispered with a soft smile, “And now you work for the FBI."

“Yep! And now I work for the FBI,” Luke laughed and nodded, “Wouldn’t trade it for anything. My team is like my family,” 

“You know, that wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard somebody say that. Penelope speaks so fondly of you,” his companion smiled as they ran their hand across the tablecloth. Their shoulders relaxed as they felt the fabric beneath their fingertips. “Well, she speaks fondly of everyone she knows, so I suppose it’s hard to judge that. But, she does talk about you and your team a lot. More often than anything else. Other than Sergio, of course,” they laughed, which in turn caused Luke to laugh. 

“You’re not wrong. She really does talk about everyone she meets like they’ve done no wrong,” he agreed with a soft laugh. 

“Which is impressive in her line of work, because of everything she sees. But I think that’s something Penelope and I have in common. I think too good of people. I think it would be too hard to work in the FBI, though,” they wrinkled their nose. “I’ve met some pretty shitty people but not serial killers… Not that bad,” they shrugged and dropped their shoulders. 

Thankfully the moment was saved when the waitress came up to the table and took Luke and his date’s order. Playing it safe, they got spaghetti with sauce and cheese. Where as Luke ordered steak with vegetables. 

“That sounds yummy. Hopefully it’s as good as it sounds,” they smiled and nodded. “Sorry I was intense about talking nice about other people. I don’t know. Working for the FBI sounds like it’d be cool, but very exhausting.” 

“It is… It can be mentally and emotionally draining,” Luke nodded as he leaned over the table, resting his elbows on the edge to keep himself up. “But, it makes up for itself… See people be reunited with their families… It’s worth it then,” he nodded as he thought about previous cases he worked on. 

“I���d never be able to do that,” they blinked before shaking their head, “I don’t know how Penelope does it,” 

“A lot of courage. She surprises me everyday,” he laughed. This time it was their turn to appreciate his laughter. Though they couldn’t exactly see his face, they could imagine what was in front of them. The happiness and love he had for a friend. Luke’s date loved that he loved his friends like they were family. 

“Anyways, enough about me and my work…” Luke cleared his throat as he watched his date rest their elbows on the table. “Tell me about you. Like, uh… What kind of music do you listen to?” he raised an eyebrow.

{***}{***}{***}

“You should have taken her seriously when she said blind date," Luke’s date chuckled lightly as the two of them walked down a cobblestone path. Their arm carefully rested on Luke's as they walked. Their other hand held their cane, tapping it across the ground in front of them. 

"I agree, wasn't expecting it to be a literal blind date," Luke returned the chuckle, "But I had fun," he added as he looked down at his date.

"I did too. I'm kinda glad Penelope didn't tell you I'm blind," they laughed nervously. Truth be told, they were scared Luke would have ditched them. It’s happened before, what's not stopping it from happening again? They couldn't count how many times it has happened.

Luke abruptly stopped in his tracks as he looked down at his date. It caught them off guard, forcing them to turn and face him.

"What? Why'd we stop? Did something happen?" As the grip they had on his arm softened a little bit, the grip on their cane tightened. A certain fear filled their body, not sure what was happening at the moment.

"You know…” Luke started, pausing for a moment to find his words. The date pulled their hand from Luke’s arm as they turned to face him more. “I would have come whether Penelope told me you were blind or not," he continued, lifting a hand and resting it on their shoulder. They jumped slightly, not expecting the friendly gesture. 

“I know… Well, actually, I don’t know. Because you wouldn’t be the first person to say that to me,” they swallowed roughly before dropping their head to the ground, “The number of failed dates I’ve gone on… Is a little embarrassing… And, the number of people who knew I was blind before the date and ditched… Is even worse,” they whispered as they stepped back away from Luke. Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his date. He couldn’t figure out why someone would ditch someone as cool as them. So what if they couldn’t see as well as others, or at all? They still deserved to be treated like a normal human. 

“You don’t deserve that,” he muttered as he stared at his date. They smiled and nodded, already knowing that. “And, frankly, this is the best date I’ve been on in a long time,” 

“I’m glad to hear that. It was a pretty good date for me too,” they smiled, as their hand returned to his arm. “Where are we anyways?” they took a deep breath and shuffled closer to his body. 

“Down the street from your apartment,” he replied, looking down the street. 

“Did Penelope give you my address?” they tilted their head up to him as they spoke. Luke’s date wouldn’t put it past Penelope, honestly. They expected it. 

“Yeah, she said I should pick you up. But you said you would take an Uber…” he replied with a nod, “When we left the restaurant, I parked a few blocks away from your apartment, so we could walk… And so this date wouldn’t end,” he laughed lightly. His date couldn’t stop the large smile growing on their lips, feeling their heart pitter-pattering quickly in their chest. 

“You really mean that,” they stopped tapping their cane across the ground as they began trusting Luke. 

“We'll have to do this again,” his date laughed as they turned to face Luke, “I had a lot of fun tonight,”  

“Of course I mean that. I told you...This is the best date I’ve been on in a while,” Luke laughed as he sensed their new level of trust in him.

“I wish this night didn’t have to end,” they said with a bubbly smile. Luke enjoyed the excitement of his date and hummed in agreement. Even though they both wished the night could keep going, the two walked in a comfortable and warm silence to their apartment.

“Yes! We will. Maybe we can walk Pickles and Roxy in the park,” Luke smiled as he looked down at them. 

And just as he got to the bottom step of the small staircase, he stopped for a brief moment before turning to his date. “I’ll see you later,” Luke smiled at them. 

“I won’t,” the blind date smiled as they rested their hand on the railing beside them. Luke froze when he realized his verbal mistake. His mouth opening slightly as he looked up at them with shock in his eyes.

“Aw man, I totally fudged that, didn’t I?” he pointed at the date before shoving his hands in his pockets. They laughed and shook their head.

“No, no, don’t worry. It’s fine. I thought it was funny. It happens all the time, actually,” them smiled and nodded, “I better let you go. It was nice meeting you, Luke,” they grasped their cane with both their hands as they turned to face him more.

“I’ll definitely call you,” 

“I’ll definitely text you,” the date grinned before turning and entering their apartment. 

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

taglist: @mggsprettygirl​ , @thebluetint​

[machine-gun-casie]

Almond Poppy Seed Muffins

you’re hired to help with the menu at colson’s new cafe and the lines of employer and employee quickly blur.

wc: 6k (!!!)

-

“Sit up, man.” Slim knocked Colson upside the head. “Menu person’s coming.”

Colson groaned and lifted his head off of the one table in the unopened cafe. “Tell me again why we booked this meeting for eight in the fucking morning.”

“Because it’s professional.” Slim whispered as the creak of the door echoed in the empty area. “Now sit the fuck up.”

You walked over with your shoulders back and your head held high, looking as professional as possible. Colson’s eyes were comically wide as he watched you approach the table. Your confidence was coming off in waves and Colson couldn’t help but be attracted to it.

Slim stood up. “Hi, you must be y/n.” He smiled at you and reached out to shake your hand. You smiled back and Colson immediately forgot he was hungover. 

“Yeah, I am. You’re the one who talked to me on the phone?” 

“That was me. I’m the manager. You can call me Slim.” Slim pulled back his hand and patted Colson on the shoulder. “This is Kel-”

“I’m Colson.” Colson shot up and shoved his hand in your direction. ”I’m the owner.”

“Thank you guys for calling me in.” You smiled at him this time and Colson almost fell back into his chair. 

“Thank you for coming. Let’s get started, shall we?” Slim said, sitting back down and both you and Colson followed. “We were hoping this could be a collaborative effort, because we want the menu to be unique to us and have some personal touches.” Colson looked at Slim with furrowed eyebrows, he’s never met this version of Slim before.

“Yes, of course. I��ve only got some basic items on my list, I wanted to sit down with you before we get into the trial phase. If there’s anything specific you wanted on the menu, or anything specific you don’t want, we can get that out of the way now.” You pulled out a tablet as you spoke, entering the password and opening your notes.

“There’s only a few items that we really want on the menu, but the rest is up to you.” Slim nodded as you took note of his words on your tablet. “What do you have so far?”

“I’ve got some basic avocado toast, bagels, and breakfast paninis.” You explained, showing them some pictures you had saved. “I’ve been to the surrounding cafes and seen the staples, but I wanted this place to have some unique staples of its own. So I added mini bacon tacos and almond poppy seed muffins.”

Colson’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I love almond poppy seed muffins! I was just going to tell you to add them to the menu.”

“No way, I love them too!” You beamed at him. “They’re so underrated. Everywhere I look for them, all I find is lemon poppy seed.”

Colson didn’t know how to respond, he just couldn’t believe he made you smile. Before the silence got awkward, Slim cleared his throat. “Bacon tacos? Are those tacos with bacon?”

“No, they’re bacon taco shells. Made them mini because full sized could get expensive in the long run.” You said, showing him a picture. “I’ve seen them online, but never in cafes and never here. Could definitely bring in some customers, everyone loves bacon.”

“Yeah, for sure. I don’t think I’ve seen those around here before. There’s also some things we need to have on the menu.” Slim said, looking over at Colson.

“Yeah, we need blueberry pancakes and cheese eggs.”

“And do you have any ideas for their names on the menu.” You asked, typing away.

“The pancakes are gonna be Casie’s Weekend Special, C-A-S-I-E. With whipped cream and berries on top.” You nodded and he continued. “And Champ’s Cheesy Eggs for the eggs. Oh, and we also got these special coffee beans coming in next month for a specific cold brew. I want it to be called Cold Brew but with the C-O-L in capital letters.”

“That’s just for it’s name on the menu, right? Because I don’t do coffee stuff.” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, yeah for sure. I’m making that myself, no need to worry about it.” Colson said.

“Okay, good. Is that it?” You asked as you typed.

“We might add some more later, but you don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“Alright, I’ll start the trial phase this week. I’ll test out the recipes and all that. When I’ve polished everything off, we can do some taste testing.”

“How long do you think you’ll take to finish?” Slim asked.

“You should get a call in about a week or two.” 

Slim smiled and nodded. “Perfect, we’re set to open in a few months.”

“I’ll have enough time to train the staff before then.”

“Great, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” You pulled out two business cards and put them on the table, one in front of Slim and one in front of Colson. “This is my business card, in case you need to contact me.”

Colson could have sworn your gaze lingered on him for a second longer than it did on Slim. 

This was not a business card he was going to throw away. No way.

-

The buzzing of your phone pulled you away from your laptop. You were up all night researching and hearing the notification finally pulled you out of the rabbit hole.

It took a while to find your phone in all the blankets on your bed. But when you finally did, the notification that was on your lock screen was not something you were expecting.

Colson requested to follow you on Instagram. 

Woah. Unexpected. 

You opened your phone and accepted his request and followed him back.

- verified?

C- what can i say im a rockstar

- hahaha

- seriously tho, why?

C- u really dont know?

- nope. enlighten me

C- im a rapper

- no way! i work for a rapper now?

C- i guess you do haha

So your night that started off with researching recipes quickly turned into a night researching Machine Gun Kelly.

Song after song and interview after interview, you wondered how you spent your life not knowing of Machine Gun Kelly’s extensive career. You couldn’t say that you had never heard the name before, but this was way more than you expected.

-

Your Instagram seemed to pick up on your search history, so your explore page was only memes about your boss from the moment you googled his name.

You weren’t sure you could look him in the face the next time you saw him, something about two nines on his waist. 

(creds: @ticketstomydownfall​)

- how come you never told me your full name?

C- sorry it just never came up, i never meant to keep it from you

C- i hope you understand

- it’ll take me a while, but im hurt you didn't tell me

And so it began, every time you took a break from menu research you would send memes back and forth. You would send Colson cooking memes he wouldn’t get and he would send you musician memes you wouldn’t get. A healthy balance, you joked. 

But your favorites had to be the Machine Gun Kelly memes. 

-

A new cafe opened a few streets down from Colson’s unopened one, so he decided to check out the competition. He stood in line and read the menu. He perked up when he saw the place had poppy seed muffins in their display. It kind of worried him because he wanted them to be his cafe’s thing, but he wouldn’t mind having one right now.

“Hi! What can I get you, sir?”

“Can I get a cold brew and one of those muffins please?” Colson pointed at the basket of muffins.

“The poppy seed?” Colson nodded and the barista reached over and picked one up.

“Are those almond or lemon?”

“These are almond poppy seed muffins, they’re here for a limited time only. Don’t think we’ll have them back anytime soon.”

The barista put the muffin in a paper bag and instructed Colson to wait by the pick up area. As he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent you a picture of the muffin.

C- new place got almond! poppy seed muffins

C- for a limited time only tho, we in the clear

Ever since you started texting, you had told him not to expect any fast responses. Your sleep schedule was all over the place because you ‘work best at night’ is what you told him. The menu was coming up fast and you told Colson to expect some taste testing soon.

So when he got a response from you within seconds, he was confused. He wasn’t complaining, that’s for sure. It just wasn’t like you.

- look in the corner

He looked up and saw you in the corner looking right at him with your phone in your hands. You laughed when you made eye contact and beckoned him over. He pointed towards the barista and you nodded. 

As soon as his cold brew was in his hands, he dashed over to you. 

“Well, well, well.” Colson smirked, sitting down across from you. “I see you fixed your sleep schedule.”

“Kinda. Just for today.” You smiled. He didn’t know if you always smiled or if you always smiled around him. Colson liked to think it was the latter. “You checkin’ out the competition?”

“Yeah, so are you. What do you think of the muffins?” Colson asked.

“Mine are better.” You shrugged.

“Gotta try ‘em first before I agree.”

“In time.”

-

It had been two weeks since you saw Colson at the cafe. You ended up staying there for a few hours, time seemed to fly by with him. You gushed about the flourishing menu to him and he smiled and nodded. You knew his appreciation towards the topic wasn’t at your level, but he encouraged you to keep going. ‘I like hearing you talk’ were his exact words.

You were a blushing mess by the end of the night. Some insinuations were made and you could definitely tell that he was as into you as you were into him. And you were willing to tease the possibility.

- im not considered an assistant, am i?

C- you could be if you wanted

- i think assisting with the cafe could be considered an assisting position

C- id be inclined to agree

-

Colson needed to get away. He needed out right the fuck now.

He couldn’t bear staring at his bedroom ceiling any longer. The demons in his head were louder than ever and he needed an escape. 

Closing the door gently, he made sure not to make any loud noises so as to not wake anyone in the house. He got into his car and drove off. He had no clue where he was going, he just knew he was going.

He found himself parked in front of his cafe after a few minutes, not knowing how he got there or how he decided this was the place to escape to. He did have the keys on him. He could just head in, put together a couple of those tables that came in the other day and do something with his hands. Anything to get his mind to shut up for a little while.

The click of the keys turning in the lock sent a shiver up his spine. He made sure to lock the door behind him just in case. The thought of someone already being there never even crossed his mind.

Until he heard something from the back. The kitchen.

The kitchen was fully finished a week ago, decked with all kinds of high tech equipment. Worth a shit ton of money. Did Colson really just stumble into a robbery? Of his own fucking cafe?

He stomped over to the kitchen, fully prepared to beat someone up. 

So when he saw you dancing around in a flour covered tank top and shorts with music blasting in your headphones, he had to take a step back.

You screeched when you saw him at the door. “Holy fuck!” Colson laughed as you bent over and put a hand to your chest, taking your headphones out. “My heart just fucking dropped into my ass!”

“I thought you were a robber. I was ready to throw hands.” Colson said nonchalantly as he strode over to you.

“I thought you were going to murder me! What are you doing here? I could have sworn I locked the door.”

“You did.” Colson nodded.

“Shit, right.” You chuckled. “Owner, sorry I forgot.” You pointed at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked first.” You shot back at him.

“Right, right.” He nodded and looked down. “Needed to get away. Found myself here.”

He hated the way your eyes softened at his words, he didn’t need pity or help or someone to fucking ask him if he ‘wants to talk it out’. But you didn’t say any of those things, and he really should have known. You were different.

“I told you. I work best at night. Slim gave me the key last week so I can utilize this amazing kitchen.” You motioned to the high tech equipment around you. “Muffins are almost done, actually.”

“Poppy seed?”

“Mhm, about six minutes left. But I got some pancakes right here, if you wanna try some?” You asked, picking up a plate stacked high with blueberry pancakes.

Colson nodded and took the plate out of your hands. You handed him a fork and he cut himself a bite. 

He brought it to his lips and paused, catching your hitched breath. “Don’t play with me! Just eat it!” You laughed, moving the fork into his mouth as he laughed at his stupid joke. His face was thoughtful as he chewed for a few moments. “Well?”

“It’s good.” He hummed. “Really good. But not better than Casie’s.”

“Doubt I can make it better than Casie’s when it’s her name on the menu.” You smiled. “She your girl?” 

The question slipped out before you could catch it. It was swirling around in your jealous head every time you saw the name in your notes. You weren’t exactly flirting with Colson these past few weeks, but if he had a girlfriend you would feel kind of guilty because you definitely caught feelings. 

Okay, you were definitely flirting. The whole assistant meme? For sure. And you were at least attracted to him. And with the way he has been looking at you, you knew he felt the same way.

“My daughter. It’s just me and her.” Colson smiled, knowing why you were asking and definitely not minding clearing that up for you. “She makes blueberry pancakes on the weekends for me. Best pancakes on the planet. Scratch that, in the fucking universe.”

“Aw shit, I can’t compete with that.” You chuckled. “Gotta try the best pancakes in the fucking universe some time.”

“For sure, I’ll bring her over when you finish up to try your stuff. Maybe you can take some pointers from her.”

“No offence to your daughter’s pancakes, but I think I’m good.” You chuckled. “This is my job and I’m damn good at it.”

“Alright, alright. No need to get feisty on me.” Colson laughed, putting his hands up in surrender. “My daughter’s pancakes will always be number one for me. You know how it is. She doesn’t know I’m putting her name on the menu, though.”

“Bet she’s gonna be so happy, I know I would be. I’ve always wanted my name on a menu.” 

Colson nodded and looked down at the counter that you were leaning against. Your phone, which was placed on the same counter, lit up with a notification that revealed your lock screen.

The notification wasn’t what caught Colson’s attention, the music that was playing did. “Are you- are you playing my music?”

“What?” You asked, your hand quickly darting to cover your phone. Colson laughed and pulled your hand away.

“No no no, I saw that.” He chuckled, grabbing the phone. “Loco? Not what I expected you to like, to be honest.”

You shrugged and pushed yourself away from the counter. “It’s got a good beat to whisk to.” You moved away from him and towards the oven and slipped on some mitts.

“The muffins are done? I didn’t hear a timer.”

“It’s all up here, pretty boy.” You smirked at him, tapping your finger against your temple. “If I leave them in any longer they’ll burn.” You explained, dropping the piping hot muffin tray onto the counter.

Colson’s hand slowly reached over to the tray, but you slapped it away before he could touch one. “Ay, they need to cool down! Still didn’t even finish them, man.” You huffed as you took off the oven mitts. You looked at him and saw him staring at you. “What?”

He just smiled his little cute ass smile and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Your hand came up to wipe at your cheeks.

Colson held your wrist and pulled it away from your face. “No, you don’t have anything on your face. You just…”

“Just what?” You don’t know when you started whispering, but it felt like you had to. The moment, so fragile and intimate, you didn’t want to scare it away.

“You look really fucking cute right now.” Colson breathed out, his eyes not once leaving yours.

“You don’t just say that to a girl, Colson.”

“Who said I was just saying it?”

The moment lost its preciousness when Colson put his hand on the hot muffin tin. “Ah fuck!” He brought his hand up to his chest, cradling it.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” You chuckled as you led him to the sink. “Come here, let me run some cold water on it.”

“Fuck me, I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?” He asked as he let you tend to his hand.

“A little, but you didn’t completely lose me.” You mused, teasing him. “I gotta put the glaze on the muffins, then you can have one.”

“There’s glaze!” He asked excitedly. “I fucking love the ones with the glaze on top.”

“I know.” You hummed, taking the bowl with the sugary glaze and spreading a little on each muffin. After you finished all of them, you went back to the first one you covered and popped it out of the tin. You held it up and brought it to Colson’s mouth. “Try it.”

He bit into and moaned almost sinfully at the flavor. That fucker knew what he was doing. 

“These are so fucking good.” Colson groaned.

“Damn right they are. You know how hard I worked on that recipe?” You exclaimed, proud the muffins came out as good as Colson made them seem to be.

“Really fuckin’ hard, I take it.” Colson replied. “Come here, you gotta taste it.”

Before you could take a bite out of the muffin, Colson put his finger under your chin and led your lips to his.

You pulled away a few seconds later, breaking the kiss. “You’re right, that tastes really fucking good.”

“You keep talking like that and I don’t think we’re gonna make it outta this place.” Colson smirked.

“The staff room’s got a couch.” 

-

(Elvgren Brunette Pin-Up Girl “Let's Eat Out”)

C- you last night

- excuse me?

C- what?

C- ur the sexy muffin girl

- how dare you?

- i would never burn my muffins

C- dude

C- im tryna flirt with you here

- well try harder

- 

Colson didn’t expect to walk into the cafe the next week with Slim and his daughter to see you wearing his shirt from that night. Casie was just excited to eat the food, so she didn’t notice. 

But Slim noticed. Colson coming home without a shirt wasn’t crazy. But you wearing said missing shirt? Yeah, he saw this coming. He smirked at Colson who tried to brush it off but his blushing cheeks betrayed him. Holy fuck, you had him blushing. What the fuck was he going to do with you?

You told them to sit tight while you brought out the plates. When you disappeared into the back, Colson mumbled something about going and helping you out.

“Nice shirt.” He smirked.

“Thanks, I got it from this guy.” You teased.

“This guy?” Colson raised his eyebrows at you as he picked up two plates.

“Yeah, tall lanky blonde dude. I don’t know if you know him, but he’s a rapper.” You smiled, expertly carrying four plates in your arms. “He’s verified on Instagram.”

Casie and Slim both watched with amused smirks on their faces as you and Colson walked out of the kitchen giggling. 

With you none the wiser, Colson mouthed ‘Shut up!’ at them. Slim snickered and Casie raised her hands up in surrender. You placed two small plates on each placemat, not aware of the conversation going on around you.

“First, we’ve got the mini bacon tacos.” You said, pointing at each plate. “The bacon shells are filled with a spinach and scrambled egg mixture with a few slices of fresh avocado.”

“Oh my god, dad! The tacos are made of bacon!” Casie exclaimed when she looked down at the plate. 

“Stop drooling and eat your food before I do.” Slim mumbled through a mouthful of bacon taco.

“Ay!” Casie shot Slim a look and used her hand as a shield against her taco. “Don’t you touch my food.”

“Then eat it!”

“I will, get off my back!”

“Hey!” Colson shouted, getting their attention. “No fighting in front of our guest!”

Slim and Casie looked up at you and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.” They apologized in unison and you fought hard to not let out a snort.

“It’s alright.” You giggled. “Do you like the tacos?”

Casie stuffed half the taco into her mouth and nodded. “Iss real goo’.”

Colson chuckled and wiped some avocado off his daughter’s face. “I think that’s the equivalent of three michelin stars.”

As everyone cleaned off their plates of all eggs and bacon, you remembered something you wanted to mention.

“Now, next are the blueberry pancakes. But before you guys dig in, Casie, I need to ask you something.” Casie perked up at your words. “Your dad told me that your pancakes are the best in the universe. And because this is his cafe, I would like it if he liked my pancakes too. So if you have any advice for me, I’m all ears.”

Casie looked between you and the pancakes for a moment. 

“I’m gonna guess that you don’t use the boxed stuff, right?” You nodded. “Alright, I’ve got one trick that I use. But you gotta promise not to tell anyone.”

You stuck out your pinky and nodded. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise.” Casie looped her pinky with yours and smiled. “Y’all gotta shut your ears.” She said to Colson and Slim.

“But-”

“No buts!” She stopped Slim. “Shut your ears!” Casie watched her dad and uncle as they slowly covered their ears with their hands, confused and trying but failing to hold in their laughter.

“Alright, my trick is hazelnut milk. I use it instead of normal milk. Makes it kind of taste like Nutella, and Dad loves Nutella. And I add a teeny tiny bit of cardamom powder. The tiniest pinch. Made the recipe all by myself, so I better get credit.”

You smiled and made eye contact with her. “Trust me, you’re gonna get your credit.”

-

C- my jaw still hasn't recovered

- shouldn’t that be my line?

C- remind me to never show anyone our texts ever in life

- noted

C- are you free tomorrow?

- yeah why?

C- meet me at the cafe at noon

C- theres something i wanna show u and casie

-

You smiled when you saw Colson and Casie approaching the cafe. You had gone to the store so as to not arrive too early, but you still beat them by a few minutes.

“Hey.” Colson smiled. “You brought stuff?”

“Yeah, just a few secret ingredients.” You nodded, holding the canvas bag behind your back. “If I show you, I have to kill you.”

“Can I see?” Casie asked.

“Of course.” You scoffed and winked at her.

“Hey! How come she can see but I can’t?” Colson asked incredulously. 

You shrugged and giggled. “Why are we here, Colson?” You asked, changing the subject. 

“Something came in today.”

“The coffee beans?” You asked, hoping you’d get a taste of his COLd brew. Yes, you told him it was stupid. No, he wouldn’t budge.

“Nope, the chalkboard.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your eyes lit up. “For the menu?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, can I help? Please, I wanna do the border.” Casie pleaded.

“Of course, special girl.” Colson nodded at her. “You gotta help bring it out, though.” 

“Let’s get the chalkboard!” Casie jumped up and tried to open the door.

Colson told her to hold on, the door wasn’t unlocked. He pulled out his keys and turned the lock, opening the door wide enough for Casie to run inside.

“It’s in the back.” Colson called after her.

She ran past you both to the staff room.

“She’s cute.” You chuckled once she was out of earshot.

Colson walked into the cafe with you and closed the door behind him. “Yeah, she got it from me.”

Before you had time to reply, a resounding crash came from the back.

“Casie!” You both dashed to the back to see if she got hurt.

“I’m fine!” She said once you both walked into the room. Casie was fine, but the long cardboard box she was pulling was no longer upwards but flat on the floor. “I think I broke it, though.” She winced.

Colson sighed and dragged his hand down his face. “Case…“

You smiled at Casie to calm her down. “It’s alright, as long as you’re not hurt.” You approached her and pulled her into a side hug and observed the fallen box. “Let’s see the damage out in the front, come on.”

The box was pulled out by all of you to the front where you opened it and pulled out the chalkboard. The chalkboard that was once one piece was now distinctly two pieces.

Casie sighed dejectedly. “I broke it bad.”

“No, no. This is definitely not bad.” You reassured her and looked over at Colson to back you up.

“Yeah, princess. This is not bad.” He said, not really knowing why it was great but only playing along with you as to not make his baby girl feel bad. “Why is this not bad?”

You laughed and kneeled down to fully pull out the two broken pieces out of the box. “We can make it look intentional. See, the crack is going diagonally down the middle. You can do the border around each piece. It would look really cool.”

“That would actually look really dope.” Colson said as he finally understood what you were getting at. “None of the other places have anything like this.”

“See? Told you.” You nodded. “What would you do without me, huh?”

“I have no clue.” Colson mumbled as he knelt down to sit next to you. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear it, but you sure did. “Alright, y’all can do the border. Leave the rest to me.”

“You sure?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at Colson. “It’s gonna take you a while.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You have everything written down somewhere?”

You nodded and pulled out your phone from your pocket. You opened up your notes app and handed it to him. “This is my latest draft for the final menu. Do with it what you wish.”

And so you got to work. Every time you tried to peek at what Colson was writing, he’d push you away and say it was a surprise. So you stuck to what he assigned you. The border took you and Casie no time, even after adding some doodles here and there and signing the bottom right corner.

“Dad?” Casie perked up.

“Yeah?” Colson asked, still focused on his penmanship.

“You good to finish it up?”

“Yeah, why?”

“y/n and I need to go to the kitchen.”

“You do?”

“We do?”

“Yes.” Casie nodded at you. “We do.” 

“Oh!” You smiled, remembering the bag you had brought with you. “We do!”

“Mhm.” Casie smiled sweetly at her dad and hopped up and headed towards the kitchen. “Come on, y/n! No time to waste.”

You giggled at her antics and shrugged at Colson. “No time to waste, I guess.” You grabbed your bag full of ingredients and followed the little sassy child to the kitchen.

You placed the bag on the counter and smiled at her. “So, how many do you wanna make?”

“Not many.” She shrugged as she helped you take out the ingredients. “Just a few to try out the recipe.”

“Good idea.” You nodded. “I changed my original recipe a little bit, added your suggestions and a few more things. That cardamom powder is a great addition, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Casie beamed. “So you’re a chef, huh?”

“Not exactly.” You mused as you pulled out the bowls and measuring equipment. “If we had to get technical, I guess my job is a menu curator. I help people make menus for their cafes or restaurants.”

“But dad said you make really good food.” Casie pointed out as she measured some dry ingredients into a large bowl. “Did you learn it by yourself or did you go to school for it?”

“A little bit of both.” You paused to help her not spill the flour and continued. “I’ve been to a few culinary schools, but only the ones that you attend for a few months. But I’ve always loved cooking.”

“So this must be your dream job, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it is. You wanna crack the eggs?” You asked and handed her the eggs when she nodded. “What’s your dream job?”

“I’m not really sure, I’m only eleven.” She shrugged and threw out the egg shells. “But I really like the music industry. So probably something in that. Maybe a producer or something. I’ve helped out Uncle Slim on some of my dad’s stuff and it was fun.”

“No way! That’s really cool. I know nothing about the music industry, if I’m being honest.” You confessed.

“Did you know about Dad’s music?” She asked. You paused for a moment, knowing this was coming. Casie wasn’t stupid, she knew something was going on between you and her dad. She wanted to make sure you were right for him. And she was definitely not going to beat around the bush to find out.

“Not when I first met him. But he followed me on Instagram and I asked why he was verified and he told me.” You said.

“Oh.” Casie said, pausing to think of what to say next. “Okay.”

You looked at her and furrowed your eyebrows. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” She nodded as she poured out the hazelnut milk into a measuring cup. “I like you, y/n. And I know my dad likes you, too. If he didn’t think you were a good person, then I wouldn’t even be here.”

Pushing the bowl closer to her so the milk wouldn’t go on the counter, you stayed silent so she could continue. “And I know you were wearing his shirt the other day, which means my dad really likes you. But you gotta know that being with my dad comes with stuff not everyone likes. I know you like me, which is obvious because I’m amazing.”

“Yes, of course.” You nodded semi-seriously, giggling with her.

“But there’s also his music and the whole public thing, which gets weird sometimes.” Casie’s eyebrows rose as she spoke, indicating that she’s seen enough to know what she was talking about. “They say things and they lie and they might drag your name through the mud. But some people forget that the things they say only last for a news cycle.”

“You are wise beyond your years, Ms. Casie Baker.” You pointed at her. “I think meeting you has been the best part of working for your dad.”

-

A week later, Colson called you back to meet at the cafe. After making the pancakes with Casie, Colson refused to show you the menu. He insisted it still needed more work and that neither of you could see it until it was properly set up behind the front counter.

Both you and Casie moaned and groaned, telling him a little peak wouldn’t hurt. But he held his ground.

Walking up to the cafe, you saw that Colson and Casie beat you this time around. Colson was sitting down as Casie jumped around him, begging him to remove the white sheet hiding the chalkboard on the wall.

“Hey guys.” You said as you opened the door.

“y/n!” Casie called, running up to you. “Thank god you’re finally here! He made me wait this whole time.”

You looked up at Colson who was shaking his head. “We’ve been here for eight minutes.” He chuckled.

“That’s a whole four hundred and eighty seconds!” 

“Ay, that was some nice quick math!” Colson cheered and held his hand up for a high five. 

Casie slapped his hand and walked over to the menu. “Alright, she’s here. Can we please see the menu now?” She pleaded.

Colson sighed and nodded. He positioned you and Casie to stand in front of the board and placed your hands on your eyes. 

“On three, open your eyes.” Colson instructed as he held onto the white fabric. “One, two…”

You and Casie waited for him to continue only to hear him snickering. “Dad!”

“Alright, alright.” You heard the fabric fall to the floor. “Three!”

You gasped when you finally laid eyes on the long awaited finished menu. Colson somehow made all you and Casie’s little doodles crisper and more vivid. The border around both the pieces had some additional patterns here and there, obviously courtesy of Colson. Your eyes scanned the names of the menu items quickly, most of them already known to you from your notes.

“Casie’s Weekend Special?” Casie asked after a moment of silence, looking up at her dad. “No way! Are those the pancakes?”

“Yeah, you like it?” Colson smiled.

She giggled and jumped up to hug Colson. “I love it!”

“I told you you’d get your credit.” You smirked at her.

She climbed off her dad and gasped. “You knew?”

You nodded and she attacked you with a hug too. You laughed as you almost toppled over from the sudden embrace.

You continued reading the menu when Casie climbed off of you. You chuckled at the ‘Bomb A$$ Bacon Tacos’ and at the ‘COLd Brew’. You smiled when you read ‘y/n’s ALMOND poppy seed muffins’.

Wait what.

“Colson…”

“You said you’ve always wanted your name on a menu. Besides, it’s your recipe.” Colson stumbled back as you attacked him in a hug this time.

You sighed against the skin of his neck and whispered a soft ‘thank you’. You pulled back and stood there for a bit, just looking at his piercing blue eyes. How can someone’s eyes be so blue?

“Oh my god! Just kiss her already!” Casie exclaimed.

“Woah! Where did that come from, little lady?” Colson turned to look at Casie without letting you go.

“You guys are making major goo goo eyes at each other. Just kiss! I’ll cover my eyes, don’t worry.” She said, placing her hand over her eyes.

“I mean, she’s kinda-”

You cut him off by placing your lips against his. Casie giggled as she peeked between her fingers. Colson furrowed his eyebrows and groaned his disapproval into the kiss, waving his free arm at his daughter. 

You giggled against Colson’s lips and pulled his waving arm back. You pulled away and reached out one arm around Casie and dragged her into the embrace. “Your dad is a real romantic, Casie.”

“Thanks, I taught him well.”

“Yeah, you really did.”

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (5/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: Total chapter count went up cause I decided to split the last chapter into two parts. From now on updates will come every Tuesday and Friday.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 2.1k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 5: Emma Swan, October 31st 2000 – October 19th 2011

Emma pulls back at the sound of a whistle next to her.

"Nice catch, Captain," a girl dressed like Cruella de Vil says to the boy, but he just shakes his head, annoyed at her.

"Ignore her," he tells Emma. "She's just pissed that there's too many adults around," he says as he gives the girl a pointed glare.

The girl just shrugs and walks away.

Emma keeps her arms around the boy's neck and they keep rocking to the rhythm of the next song. Just as she's about to ask him for his name, she sees Sarah and the owner of the two villas run to the front door.

"Excuse me," she tells the boy and lets go. "I'll be right back."

She follows the two women outside and gasps when she sees the bright, wild flames burning inside their rented villa. She tries to step forward towards Sarah, but she trips and falls, scraping her arm on a sharp rock on the ground.

She's not bleeding much; she keeps her arm hidden, feeling lucky she has her zombie makeup, as she stands awkwardly by while the villa's owner is venting out her anger over her destroyed property at Sarah. Emma is too tired and too shocked to understand whose fault it is and who will have to pay for the damages.

Everything they'd brought with them was burned in the fire, including Emma's passport. Sarah says they were lucky enough that her own wallet and papers were in her purse. Early the next morning, one Emma dressed as a way too messy zombie princess and one Sarah dressed as a very tired witch with a broken hat check into a hotel, waiting for the embassy to open so they can arrange for Emma's new travel documents.

They're flying back two days later, and after a long, seemingly endless to Emma trip, she looks at the queue at passport control as if it's the final obstacle to a good night's sleep.

Sarah lets her go first, and though the security guard takes a little more time checking her passport than Emma feels comfortable with, he eventually allows her to pass. Emma picks up her rucksack, still slightly mourning the clothes and the other stuff she lost in the fire, crosses over and turns to look at Sarah.

Sarah walks to the checkpoint. After checking her passport, the security guard picks up a walkie-talkie and says something to it while staring at Sarah.

Sarah turns to look at her, worried, and Emma feels a shiver run down her spine.

Two other guards appear and walk up to Sarah, while another one walks to Emma.

Emma freezes; she watches as the two guards lead Sarah away, while she's turning her head back to look at Emma before they urge her through a door. She seems to be calling Emma's name.

“What's happening?” Emma says, still staring at the closed door. They didn't even let her cross. “Where are you taking her?”

“Just follow me. It's a matter of security.”

“You have to tell me! What happened?!”

The guard stays silent and simply walks forward. He leads Emma into an office, offering her water and a sandwich. Emma takes a few gulps of water – her mouth feels dry as sand already – but her stomach is too tight for her to manage even one bite.

Many long, tiring hours later, a woman dressed in a suit approaches Emma. The badge on her chest has that damn seal that Emma had hoped she'd never see again.

They tell her that Sarah's real name is Ingrid, that she'd migrated illegally from Norway eighteen years ago, that she never had the right to adopt Emma, that all her belongings are now part of the state...

Emma is taken away by the social worker before she has any chance to talk to Sarah – or Ingrid, whatever her real name is.

Still processing the unbelievable secrets revealed to her, she's in such a shock when she picks up a few essentials from the place she called home that she doesn't even think to call a friend. She doesn't need her phone book to remember Lily's phone number, but for the few days she stays in a foster home on the other side of Boston, she trembles at the thought of calling her after the news of her adoptive mother being a criminal have hit the neighborhood.

And Lily had sounded so excited to hear all about Emma's first crush. She wouldn't be ready to deal with such heavy news. She wouldn't be able to understand.

It's not long before Emma runs away. Sar-Ingrid has been deported, there's no good at searching for her, and no-one will take care of Emma like she did, despite the secrets she'd kept.

Part of Emma wants to believe Ingrid had a good reason. But it still lead to this, to Emma running away, breaking into and stealing a yellow Bug to sleep in and probably escape with to... somewhere. Anywhere.

Only Emma had never imagined she'd get a partner in all of this, sneakily sleeping in the backseats, all courtesy of stealing an already stolen car.

Neal is okay. Only two years older than her, he's quickly interested in her, but when she tells him no he keeps their relationship strictly platonic – and professional. It's always easier to pickpocket and shoplift when one of them plays the role of distraction.

At first, Emma keeps remembering that boy, dressed as a pirate, who looked at her in a way she hadn't been looked at before. But when the way Neal looks at her slowly starts resembling that, she thinks that maybe there was something about the romance novels Ingrid liked so much. Maybe there's no love at first sight, but there may be love at first shoplift, first trespassing, first sharing of stolen goods...

And when he promises her a home in Tallahassee, she realizes that just a look means nothing. When his lips stay on hers, and kiss them again and again. When she pulls him to the backseat of the car and what does she know, that scene in Titanic was actually realistic. When he nuzzles closer to her after he's fallen asleep.

Tallahassee is a bit of a long way, but she dares to have hope. Maybe Ingrid wouldn't be too mad. She'd committed a crime, too, anyway.

Neal convinces her to pick up some watches he'd stolen and stored in a locker. Fencing them would give them big money. Neal wants to make fake IDs for them and run off, but after seeing Ingrid's drama, Emma simply wants to give up stealing and make their life in Tallahassee. He puts one of the watches on her wrist as a promise.

As Emma waits for Neal to come back from meeting the fence, her imagination goes wild. They'll have a home for themselves. They won't have to hide, to run, to fear anything anymore. Not that she gives one damn about the law – she's just tired of running. She spins her wrist, touching the watch and thinking of Neal's promise.

But again, it's not the first promise made to her that's broken. Though admittedly, getting sent to jail for Neal's crime was way worse than any other.

He left her the car. She holds the swan keychain with its keys in her hand, then looks at the bars outside her cell's window and wishes with all her might that she could find Neal and run him over with the car he was oh so generous to give her.

Even though she's just seventeen years old, she's already heard that prison makes one tougher. Maybe Emma's exterior does get that way after eleven months in there, but she knows that inside she's still a mess. It's not just that the Bug is the only place she's got to sleep. It's not just that she sometimes still resorts to shoplifting to eat. It's also that now the pirate boy's look becomes nothing. Ingrid's promises and comforting words become dust.

People look at her and through their harsh looks she sees anger, hate, disapproval.

So be it. It's better that way. It will discourage her from trusting anyone again.

Finding a messy, exhausting job as a janitor is the luckiest she's been since Neal gave her away to the police, putting the blame for his crime on her. It's tough, and she hates it, but it pays just enough to rent an old studio that's at least got a bathroom and a kitchen.

Tallahassee is a lost dream by now. Not that she dares to dream much anymore.

Sometimes, from far away, she spots old friends and acquaintances and she makes sure to avoid them and pretend she doesn't see them. They never call her, and she's glad. What is she going to say anyway? Those people still have their homes, their families, their sparkly clean criminal records. She's not the Emma they knew, and surely not the Emma they're ready to accept.

The years go by and she feels emptier. Her jobs get a little bit better, her studio apartments a little bit warmer, but her heart never feels lighter.

She's satisfying some needs. One-night-stands are as far as she goes, though. Sometimes she allows herself to spend the whole night with her partners, but there are times that she remembers that pirate boy and she nearly feels disgusted by her life. She's stopped wanting more, she's stopped wanting something deeper. She's stopped simply wanting.

She hates herself for still thinking about Tallahassee from time to time. Even if she decided to visit, only to prove to herself that there's nothing there for her, she can never spare enough money for a simple trip there. Something always comes up; her apartment flooding, her car breaking down and needing fixing; she gives up when in the span of one year burglars break into her apartment twice and empty it from the few items of value she has.

Even ten years after Neal's fake promise, the damn thought about Tallahassee won't go away.

She wonders if it's because it's the last promise she was given. She spent the first years of her life used to nothing being permanent and secure; then Ingrid pretty much spoiled her, gave her unrealistic expectations about the world. But Emma can't find it in herself to blame her. For all her faults – and crimes – Ingrid had given Emma her love. And it's something she'd go to jail ten times for.

Boston is a big city, but it's choke-full of negative memories for Emma, and just for once she wishes she can spend her birthday somewhere and just do something.

Her boss can only give her two days off the week before her birthday. Just her luck.

Still she's got just enough savings to visit New York City. Truly, she just wants some time away from Boston – she hasn't left since she was released ten years ago. She just wants a place where she doesn't have to avoid old acquaintances, she wants something loud, and drinks, and dance. Lots, lots of dance.

The club in New York isn't half bad. Someone's cigarette burns half a lock of her hair, she spills her drink on her dress, and her shoes are killing her – she learned long ago to not trust heels with her luck, and still her flats are uncomfortable – but she manages to have a decent time.

Or maybe it's the drink that's muddling her thoughts. Maybe she's too drunk to stay on one thought for long, if the realization that her bladder has given her its sixth warning is anything to go by.

Of course there's a queue outside the of course only bathroom. She sits down next to a guy who looks as plastered as her. And she swears it's not the drink that makes all but one person disappear from the queue. And then it will be the guy's turn, and then hers... sweet, finally.

However, when the last person comes out, the guy next to her gestures with his hand.

"Go ahead," he says slowly. His eyes are drooping closed.

"No, it's okay," she says, also slowly. "I can wait."

"Go, please. I'm not one to leave a lady waiting."

"Oh, how a gentleman... what gentleman..." Shit, she's very drunk. Shit? Is that what he... is that why he wants her to go first?

He is a gentleman. And with an accent, to boot.

"Can I kiss you?" she says.

The man just shrugs.

As he sits against the wall, she touches his cheek and kisses him deeply.

[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar's Ambition, Chapter 4, Draft 1

In the meantime, he puffed on his Lungbuster some more, thinking about what they could do next. Once they were all in the scrapyard, and found a secure spot, that’d be a good time to see about that map Mark probably had. From there, he could hopefully find out where Zeb’s offices were, and from there he and Slim could take him down, and Conar could finally have a fortune of his own.

His happy daydreams were interrupted when he heard another vehicle come rumbling down the road, and the sound of screeching metal against concrete. He leaned to look past the wall, and he had to cover his earholes as he saw an ugly yellow truck coming to the garage, sparks flying behind it as it carelessly dragged an enormous three-pronged hook behind it on a thick metal cable. He leapt back, afraid the tow cable might swing his way and obliterate him. Thankfully, it was nowhere close, and the truck was slowing to turn into the parking space anyway.

A Slig wearing a work vest came out, putting a well-worn yellow cap onto his head. He slammed a fist on the bed of the truck, and three Scrubs sat up groaning, and climbed out of the back.

Conar turned to the sleeping Mudokons, and was quick to tap them both with his Blunderbuss. They stirred, slowly standing back up. Just in time, too; the Slig had looked their way. He nodded before walking over to the passenger side. The door opened, and Conar heard the tell-tale sound of a Glukkon’s cheap dress shoes rapidly clattering. He was smoking an even cheaper cigar, and oil-stained suspenders over a hideously yellow plaid shirt. He sneered as he looked over at Conar and the Mudokons under his care, but his face softened as he saw the cab they came in with.

He hummed, running a few mental tallies.

“Quite a wreck,” he finally said. “Almost wish I’d seen the accident!”

He laughed, and if there was one thing any Slig learned quickly, it’s that a Glukkon’s laughter is contagious… or else. The Mudokons had no such obligation; while Slim and Mark were trying to keep their heads down, the three Scrubs in yellow loincloths just unloaded the truck of its six toolboxes. They politely waited by the door, struggling to stand up under the weight they were carrying.

“I take it you’re Clunk?” Conar asked.

“You ain’t as stupid as you look,” the Gluk snorted. “Why do ya ask?”

“Your guard over there says we need a ticket from you to get this scrap into the yard.”

Clunk turned around, seeing a wide-awake Slig waving his way from his booth, his magazine hidden from view.

“He’s right, you will need one. We gotta make sure we can’t fix it first.”

Meanwhile, his assistant Slig was watching the overly encumbered Mudokons. He was taking great pleasure in slowly opening the doors, at a couple of points even “accidentally” letting the doors fall a little, chuckling as the Scrubs groaned. Finally, he let them in, and they were able to set their equipment on the workbench.

“Right,” Conar nodded. “So when can we get started, sir? I’m already running late…”

“250 Moolah,” the Glukkon replied, simply. “We also gotta get your name and everything for our records. If we start going a little late, maybe I can let your boss now. Who knows?”

He leaned forward, enough to breathe smoke into Conar’s face.

“He might be feeling lenient and just dock your pay.”

He chuckled to himself, while Conar reached into his bag. Having only around 1400 Moolah to his name, this was quite a bit, but what choice did he have?

The other Slig happily accepted his payment, and turned towards his workforce.

“All right, get ‘er in so we can take a look!”

Conar and company watched as the cab was taken in, and followed when Clunk beckoned them in. They were directed to a lobby that had two very greasy chairs in it, as well as half another chair that was haphazardly lying against the wall. Clunk moved behind the front desk, where his assistant was waiting.

“So, you got an ID, ‘valued’ customer?”

“39872-A,” Conar said, automatically.

“Right. Place of employment?”

“Slog Hut 1884.”

“Quite a ways from here. What happened?”

“Got caught in some crossfire around home, sir.”

Clunk nodded.

“Right, we’ll see what we can do. You have a seat.”

Conar nodded, keeping the seat on his Pants rather than anything he could actually feel. The Mudokons, after one glare from the owner, shared the half-seat, keeping their feet splayed so they didn’t tip it over.

Clunk chuckled at the sight, and so Conar did too.

“Which of these chumps was the driver?”

Mark shrunk a bit, knowing what was going to come next, but before anyone else, Slim piped up.

“I was driving, sir.”

Mark was about to say something, but Slim’s elbow made a point against that. Clunk looked, and nodded.

“Brave Mud to admit that,” he said, turning back to Conar. “Make sure to get his license. Should have a number you can call on this phone here. They’ll take care of ‘im for losing company property, I hope.”

With that, he waddled over through the doorway, to the noises of metal clanging and tools hissing and whirring.

As soon as he was gone, Slim looked at the shaken Mark, then turned to Conar.

“Can you… can you pretend to call?”

“You ain’t tellin’ me what to do!” Conar replied. “I gotta call, that’s what he said…”

Slim’s look said it all, but he added “You want everyone to know where we are?”

“…Yeah, why don’t I just… not call, then?”

“Clunk’s probably gonna pop in at any moment. You really want to blow your cover here?”

Conar thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He’d have to ask about how Slim knew about this kind of thing later, but for now, he had a “call” to make to the taxi company. He stood up, holding a hand out expectantly. Mark looked at it for a moment, then sighed and produced a card from a pouch on his loincloth.

Conar snatched it and took a look. So he was supposed to call the Durtminch Taxi Service, but he punched random keys on the phone in rapid succession. He got a busy signal, but he pressed on.

“Yeah, hi… I wanted to report a Mud who drove through a gunfight…Yeah…We’re at Clunk’s… His name’s Mark…”

Clunk walked back in, watching while Conar finished his conversation.

“…ID, uh, 5928-22555…And this was 39872-A… Yeah, thanks.”

He looked up at the Glukkon.

“They said they’d discipline correctly.”

“Good,” Clunk nodded. “It’s important that they… learn. Anyway, we got some fixes underway. It’ll be ten minutes, but if it still don’t work, we’ll take it off your hands and getcha a ride.”

“Gotcha,” Conar nodded, walking back to take a seat.

Unfortunately, Clunk was staying at the desk, watching a monitor. No chance of using this time to rest, then; despite Conar’s reason for being late, he could still get reported for sleeping during work hours. Being late to the Slog Hut was one thing, but using this as an excuse to sleep was a one-way path to being detained until a co-worker could arrive and perform disciplinary action. Talking to the Mudokons was out of the question, too. No Glukkon liked seeing security being buddy-buddy with the workforce. So, he waited, listening to the sounds of mechanics hollering and metal clanging for ten minutes until, finally, the other Slig came back into the lobby.

“W-well,” he said, uneasily, “Got as fixed as we could, boss.”

The three Scrub mechanics walked in, covered in considerably more oil, soot, and burn marks than the Slig was.

“Well,” Clunk smiled, “Why don’t you have your driver friend there get the thing started, and we’ll see you off?”

Slim felt many eyes on him, and he slowly stood up. Mark followed suit, letting their half-chair slide and collapse onto the floor. He and Slim scrambled to get that back onto the wall, and then moved to follow the other Slig, with Conar following after.

He swallowed, climbing into the driver’s seat while Mark and Conar made it into the backseat.

“Hold up,” the head mechanic asked, raising a hand, “What’s the deal with the other Scrub?”

“You know better than to ask questions like that!” Clunk scolded, causing his Slig to wince. “It’s like you know nothing about keeping customers!”

He coughed, nearly dropping his cigar.

“Right then,” he continued, turning his attention to Conar through the window, “Explain why you’re commutin’ with a Mudokon!”

“Ah, y’see, er…”

“’M a student,” Slim meekly offered. “Y’see, he’s my instructor, isn’t that right, ‘Slim’?”

“I—” Mark started, before having his toe pressed by Conar’s metal foot. “Y-yeah, I am. L-lemme give ya a… refresher on how t’start this thing… yeah…”

He reached over, adjusting the levers to get the thing started. A rumble and whining noise, but nothing happened.

“Try again,” Clunk said.

“O-okay,” Mark nodded, having another go. Same result.

“Oy,” Clunk muttered, shaking his head. “All right, my boys’ll ger this into the scrapyard and we’ll getcha a new ride.”

“Actually,” Conar piped up. “I got two perfectly good Scrubs here. Betcha they could do with a bit of exercise, y’know what I’m saying?”

“Not gonna happen,” Clunk laughed. “Can’t have your Muds diving under a hunk of metal and escapin’, can we?”

“No sir,” Conar said, nodding a little too hastily. “Can’t have ‘em fleeing.”

He lifted his gun up meaningfully.

“I’m sure Tess and I could keep an eye on ‘em, though… heh heh…”

Clunk looked at him, and laughed.

“Ah, you really wanna teach ‘em a lesson, huh? Can’t blame ya for that; even a Mudokon should know not to drive into a firefight.”

He turned to his assistant.

“You focus on keeping our boys in line. Let our friend here take care of scrappin’ that piece of crap.”

“Er, all right, sir…”

It was hard to see with his own visor and the other Slig’s pilot-like goggles, but Conar could swear he was getting a side-eye from the guy as he turned to gather his mechanics.

Conar, for his part, simply shrugged, grabbing a ticket as it printed before giving a somewhat forceful jab to Slim’s back with the barrel of his gun.

“Get movin’, you two! I wanna see that cab in the scrap heap, and I wanna see it there now!”

He gave a bit of a chuckle to keep appearances, and the three of them moved the cab out. Well, Slim and Mark did, while Conar kept pace behind them, cradling “Tess” in his arms, still keeping it quite visible in the tried-and-true “Slig At Work” pose.

“Some escape,” Slim muttered under his breath. “Make me wish I was back shoveling Slog poo.”

“Wait, we’re escapin’?” Mark asked, perking up. “I can quit driving Sligs around? No more chokin’ on smoke?”

Before Mark could get too excited, though, he had to flinch as two shots rang out from behind him. Both he and Slim immediately put their hands over their heads, resting their faces onto the car’s trunk. They were just able to turn their heads enough to see Conar looking at them, his smoking gun pointed straight up in the air.

“Enough yapping!” he barked. “You’re slowin’ down when you do that!”

Mark was shaking a little, but Slim just sighed before beginning to push the cab again. On the plus side, the guard had woken up from that, and was already watching them pull up. Conar was already waving the ticket up for him, so he pulled the lever on the left of the control panel.

The three of them watched as the gate shook, groaning and creaking as it dragged along the ground. In the twenty-two seconds it took for it to open, Slim and Mark were able to take a breather, which they gratefully took. They almost didn’t notice when Conar shouted for them to start pushing again, but self-preservation kicked in regardless, and the cab was shoved through the gate again.

It soon became clear that they were not moving past multiple piles of discarded metal, but instead walking on one enormous heap. There was enough rust to pass as dirt if you weren’t walking on it, and they could hear metal creak not just under their feet, but everywhere. In the distance, a stack collapsed onto itself. A crane with an enormous magnet lifted junk into a new pile, and a bulldozer shoved more onto it.

As Conar looked around, the two Mudokons took note of the red eyes floating around. They didn’t seem to be taking any interest in the trio, instead panning over the various machines.

“Now, let’s get this thing outta the way,” Conar said. “I think I see some room over there.”

He gestured over to a place between an old FeeCo train car and a pile of refrigerators. It was a tight fit, but nothing a bit of elbow grease and Slig threats couldn’t take care of.

“Right,” Conar said, “We should find a place to lay low, then. We can figure things out from there.”

He looked either way, and found the door was taken off the train car. That was as good an option as any to look, but Slim put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going into it.

“There’s a hideout in the fridges already,” he said. “Might wanna check that first.”

Conar paused to look at the pile on the other side, but outside of various graffiti tags, he didn’t see anything of interest. Besides, the train car was right here.

“I don’t know what you’re tryin’,” he said, pulling his shoulder away from the Mudokon, “but if you think you can pull one over me, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“I’m not—”

“Get in the train!” Conar shouted. “That’s an order!”

“Fine,” Slim sighed, clambering in. It was dark and cold down there, and the air had a metallic scent that was just powerful enough to be uncomfortable. Mark and Conar followed, landing next to him.

“It ain’t much,” Conar admitted, “but at least we should be hidden pretty well here.”

“I guess,” Slim shrugged, while Mark just nodded.

“It’s been a long night, so we oughta rest for a bit. We’ll work on getting started later.”

Conar watched as the Mudokons found a darker corner, huddling together for warmth. Despite the conditions, they found sleep far more easily than Conar did. The Expresso had long since lost its kick, but this was a far cry from the bed he was used to. What was worse, he was watching over recently-freed Scrubs. He could manage one, but what if the two were to gang up on him? Hell, Slim was already giving him orders! He was already getting a lot of nerve!

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Encounters of the Strange Kind || Ariana & Frank

TIMING: Before the last full moon during the nightmares POTW PARTIES: @frankmulloy & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana goes to watch a soccer match and bug her favorite bartender, Frank. Some nightmares brought to life make for a strange afternoon. 

It wasn’t often lately that Ariana found herself with a free afternoon and as much had been preferred. Just when she felt like she was finally beginning to move forward again, Winn had to go and die on her, too. If she let herself sit in all those feelings for too long, she was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to find it in her to get up again. Moving was easier. At least that’s what she had kept telling herself, but now the erratic weather meant soccer practice was cancelled which means she wouldn’t spend the rest of her day coaching. She was far ahead on all of her projects for school and she didn’t want to bother Blanche or Grace yet again. The weather also meant a run with her dog was out of the question so she opted to drink beer and watch some soccer matches at Perfect Pint. It wasn’t the world’s best distraction, but bugging the bartender had always proven to be a good time. While the USWNT wasn’t playing, she threw on the Rapinoe jersey Athena had gotten her anyway. Something about channeling Rapinoe had always left her feeling a little tougher. Which was saying a lot because most days, she considered herself to be pretty badass.

Considering it was a weekday afternoon, Ariana found the bar wasn’t overly crowded, so she grabbed a seat in front of the women’s Olympique Lyons team’s match. While they weren’t her team, she remembered Kaden was a Lyons fan. It gave her some sort of deeper attachment to the game which meant it’d be more likely to hold her attention. She waved at Frank as she settled into her seat and gave him a wide smile. Confidence was key to no one questioning her fake ID. “How are you doing today,” she asked brightly before adding, “I’ll take a Guinness when you get a chance.” She hadn’t liked it at first, but it grew on her. She admittedly just said the first thing she looked at the first time she came here and just kept going with it. 

Frank had always considered Perfect Pint a lesser form of Soul. Less sticky, less sleazy, less were the chance of someone kicking someone else’s teeth in—or maybe that was just his shift. Maybe in his absence the patrons that gathered at the latter establishment were perfectly pleasant, either way, the Irish bar was a welcomed breath of civility before the shit-storm the evening would no doubt bring. The presence of another gancanagh added to the ease of simply being as the pub owner exercised a control over his ability that even after all these years Frank had never fully mastered. His pheromones fluctuated to a rhythm of its own make, a song Frank was not privy to and struggled still to understand. But the shadow of a smile that threatened to break his mask of perpetual indifference came at the hands of one that, legally, shouldn’t even be allowed at the bar. They both knew this— that no matter what her ID said, Ariana was not 21, not the fact that he silently enjoyed her company. No drink was strong enough to make him admit anything so personal. But more than that, if he admitted it, then it must be true, and if that was true then so was the very real possibility that she was only hanging around him because of the reason that most people were. The same reason he slid people their drinks across the bar, why he was always so generous with his distance, why he didn’t smile when he turned to meet Ariana but rather regarded that she was there—of course she was wearing a fucking Rapinoe jersey—another body to warm the bar’s seat.

“Do you have an ID for that Guinness?” Frank said, with perhaps a little too much enjoyment, after the glass was already in his hand. “I get the pub is Irish but you know that American laws still apply right?”

Something about the chatter around the bar was much more comforting than the near silence of her apartment. Ariana was glad this place was close to her new apartment and that her fake ID never seemed to be extensively questioned even though it seemed fairly obvious Frank knew she wasn’t 21 yet. Plus, they always played the soccer matches so it always gave her something engaging to do even if she didn’t have someone joining her. As Frank asked for her ID, she pouted and dramatically pulled her wallet out of one of the pockets in her cargo pants. “You know, you keep not remembering me and my very iconic blue hair, I’m gonna stop tipping… okay, that’s a lie,” she responded with a small laugh as she slid her ID across to him. She gave him a pointed look as she waited for him to set her beer down. The urge to do a triumph fist pump was resisted. Instead, she motioned her glass up in a cheers motion and took a sip before commenting, “You never told me how you were doing. You haven’t seen any weird fish lately, have you?” She’d seen a few of them floating around along with some other strange things. Still felt like a good idea to check in and make sure everyone was staying safe amidst the crazy that was White Crest. 

The threat of no tip was met with a slight upward lean to the corner of Frank’s mouth, which was more of a smile than most could say they’ve ever received from the infamously stoic bartender. The Guinness had already slid across the bar’s top to her awaiting hand before she had even pulled the ID out; the presence of the little card vaguely acknowledged though not such attention was paid to its content. “Fine,” he said, and he was fine, and was happy to leave it at fine, but of course, Ariana had a talent for catching his attention when he least expected it. Like, say, a remark about weird fishes. “This whole fucking town is weird.” Frank would be remiss to say that the amount of fog that blanketed the town was a common occurrence, not to mention the pair of bright glowing lights that peered eerily behind them. Logically, he’d sooner owe it to a pair of headlights, than anything stranger, which was rich coming from a guy with giant wings sticking out of his back. Logically, he also knew that no vehicle or trunk had lights that large, that moved so silently, seamlessly-- there was nothing mechanical about these lights. “Why? What have you seen?” A pause. The temptation was to close the distance between them, but alas (at least this time) habit dug down its heel, and so did Frank. “What have you been up to kid?”

Of course he hadn’t actually bothered to look at her ID which made Ariana laugh a bit. While Frank was never the overly talkative type, she did enjoy his mostly quiet company. It gave her something else to focus on when the game wasn’t enough to keep her thoughts from drifting somewhere darker. He was a bit of mystery though and fine almost never meant fine. She knew better than anyone because she’d put that brave face on every day for the kids and a little bit for herself. “I hate that word,” she stated plainly, “90% of the time it’s bullshit, but I’ll give you that one.” At least his response to the question about fish led her to believe he wasn’t completely clueless to the ways of this town. That made it easier for him to stay safe. “You know, you’re not wrong,” she agreed, “Some of it is good weird though, like the dog toys falling from the sky. My dog had a field day with that one. Still, probably a good idea to avoid the giant floating fish if you can.” For a moment, she could almost detect a hint of concern in his voice though he still kept his distance. She didn’t want to alarm him, so she shrugged and answered, “Honestly, I’ve seen a lot, but more recently it’s been the floating fish. Thankfully, they seem to mostly just kind of float by if you don’t bother them. I may be tough, but I’m not exactly eager to see if I can take on an oversized flying fish.” The answer to his next question was decidedly nothing good outside of school and work. Between ghost hunting, avoiding sleep, and her plans to turn Ace into a werewolf like her, she was decidedly not staying out of trouble. Not even a little bit. “Oh, you know-- work, class, typical young we-- people things. I opened up an Etsy shop, so if you need any custom woodwork or repairs, I’m your girl,” she responded hoping her answer sufficed even if she definitely left big bits of the truth out. She shifted in her seat slightly and a puzzled look crossed her face as all the TV screens in the bar went fuzzy. That was weird. It was a perfectly sunny day out so she couldn’t think of any good reason for the television picture to just go out. 

For reasons too complicated, and probably too depressing, to dissect without the supervision of his therapist, Frank had somehow convinced himself of being able to care for little else beyond that which directly affected him. Now Frank was a great many things but never the uncaring type, and while he was a talented wordsmith (when he had the energy to be) he was, as was the nature of his species, a poor liar. Even to himself. So when “fine” was met with a reaction that was far from it, his heart—he was frequently surprised to learn, or be reminded, of its existence—reared its head, and fixed a tender gaze on the younger girl. He said nothing however, feeling that it was the wrong time to press, but he would remember the minor outburst, and keep it close to heart. While Frank himself was still challenged with admitting to the existence of the strange and unnatural, despite himself being one of those strange and unnatural things, to have Ariana confess to it so readily, and so casually at that, made it concrete, and real. No, the lights were not in fact a truck in the foggy distance, it was indeed a giant floating fish. That was normal now. He was part of that normal. So what happened then when a normal person has spent his entire life believing he was not? How does he come to terms with that? The answer: he doesn’t. He instead focused his attention on anything else, on anyone else. “Right, so that sounded decidedly unconvincing. Your fake ID is more convincing than…whatever that was.” He waited for a characteristically snappy response, but when she looked up at him—no, past him, her brows knitted together at whatever the TV was showing. “What are you…?” Nothing, the TV was showing nothing, and yet she seemed entranced, or at least concerned enough to be curious. This made him concerned, and by the way the few patrons that were in the bar were whispering and mumbling to themselves and each other, it was going around.

“Jesus H,” the dish rag draped over his shoulder, Frank sought for the remote and tried to turn it off, but the battery was either flat or the TV refused to obey. Logic supported the former, and logic made him reach up to press the button on the monitor itself. That was when water started leaking from the screen. Logic offered no sound explanation for that. Somewhere within the bar came a yelp as the water from one of the leaking TVs (was he seriously admitting to that?) short-circuited the juke box. No, Frank thought decidedly, it had been two weeks since he last fed and he was too fucking tired for this shit. “Yeah, I’m not cleaning that shit up.” He tossed the towel aside, stuck his head into the kitchen and announced his early finish. “No offence but I don’t think your game is playing kid,” he said and ducked out from behind the bar. Something wasn’t right, and frankly he felt no great desire to stick around, and owed to some strange endearment he’s found in Ariana, he didn’t want her to stick around either. “I’m heading out. Finish your Guinness. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Normally, she would have been quick to comment on the fake ID remark. Ariana wasn’t sure just how serious he was, because would he really be serving her if he thought her ID was fake? Maybe he just didn’t give a crap which actually checked out to a degree. The water leaking from the TVs was far more pressing though. She was pretty sure electronics and water didn’t mix, so she took a step back. “TVs,” she answered as she pointed upward. How were they even doing that? She doubted there was any satisfying answer, but slowly scooted away from any electronics. After all she’d been through, she wasn’t about to go out by electrocution of all things. She took a big gulp from her glass of beer because frankly it  was warranted with the current level of insanity. So much for having a nice escape from White Crest reality. It hadn’t been all that surprise to see Frank ditch the bar. She laughed a bit and commented, “I don’t blame you. Probably dangerous back there right now anyway.” The jukebox seemed to agree with her so she was glad he was seemingly away from any spots that may cause electrical shock. 

While the TV situation was still concerning, Ariana figured she didn’t have much of a reason to stick around with both the game off and Frank gone. Beer alone wasn’t going to be enough to distract her from the whirlwind of emotions she currently didn’t feel like acknowledging. His offer to walk her home was unexpected though. She looked up to him and said, “Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate that even if I am probably a lot tougher than you think I am.” She jokingly sized him up, but agreed her beer was worth finishing. “For sure gonna finish this bad boy. Can’t be out here wasting a perfectly good beer!” She was quick to polish off her beer. She refrained from burping as she set the glass down because as Celeste taught her growing up, it wasn’t proper table manners. Not that she truly understood why table manners were a thing humans cared about, but for the sake of blending in, she did her best to follow some sort of norm. “So we adding bodyguard to your business card now,” she joked as they left the now nightmarish scene behind. Thankfully, everyone else had also been quick to bolt, so she wasn’t too concerned for their safety. Every so often, a creepy face would flash on the screen and she muttered, “Wow, I fucking hate that.” She pointed down the block and said, “I live this way, not too far away and surprisingly decent rent. Not sure if you know the area well or not, but it really is a steal.” 

“I am sure that you are.” Frank’s lips twitched as a genesis of a smile began to take shape across his mouth, one that came very close to becoming fully formed, until he too saw the ghostly face that haunted the TV screens. Fuck. That. Many of the pub’s patrons shared the same sentiment and a steady stream of people trickled out behind them, and for the first time (and hopefully the last) Frank was glad that he had the evening shift at Soul that day. A snort escaped his guard, harsh and full, a gleam of something mirthful reflected in his eyes as he turned them toward Ariana. “Depends on how much you’re willing to pay me,” he said and was only half joking. Bartending doesn’t pay a great deal, and there were many artefacts in his piece of crap apartment, including the piece of crap apartment itself, that would attest to this. The Bend wasn’t exactly known for its New England style living, but then again, neither was Frank.

“It’s nice.” He mused, quietly observing the shops that lined the streets and the plants and bushes that trimmed the sidewalks. Frank spied what looked like a stray dog toy tangled in the leaves of one of the passing bushes. Raining dog toys. That was normal too. Another thing he had to come to terms with getting used to. Not the fact that that particular thing happened, but the possibility of something similar, and equally strange and outlandish happening again. “I never really took the time to take in the streets. I mostly just come in for work, and then go to Soul and then go home. But this street, this place, I can see you living in it.” In the same weird way that you can somehow just sense that someone does not belong in a certain place, you can also sense when someone else belonged exactly where they were-- the latter was usually a lot more pleasant to observe. Walking next to Ariana, in the street she lived, Frank came to the conclusion that she looked like she was exactly where she needed to be; a place bustling with life, and events, and possibilities...even if it was a little strange. “It’s nice.”

Ariana noted the almost smile that Frank made though she didn’t comment on it. He was seemingly gruff, but she was pretty sure he enjoyed her company. Well, at least more so than the rest of the bar’s patrons. Which was fair, she was way cooler and far more adorable. As they walked, she laughed a bit at the mention of paying him. “Thankfully, I don’t need my own bodyguard, not that I could afford one. As it turns out, coaching kids’ soccer a few times a week doesn’t pay enough for a glamorous lifestyle. Not that I want one, but building a cabin one day would still be nice. If my woodworking really takes off, I may have a job for you.” They rounded a corner and something about the sky felt off. She ignored it and added, “I should warn, I’m good at finding trouble.” To be fair to herself, trouble often found her based on her species alone, but she definitely had a knack for following her nose right into some sort of White Crest nonsense. 

It surprised Ariana that Frank hadn’t done much exploring the streets yet. While the more populated parts of town weren’t necessarily her thing, she did know the woods like the back of her hand. Or paw, depending on the day of the month. “Yeah, there’s a lot of good shops and restaurants down here. It’s a good area, I prefer the woods, but it’s nice living across the hall from one of my best friends. So thanks.” She was almost wistful for that cabin in the woods she was supposed to build with Celeste one day. Hell, she even missed the place she helped Ulfric build, but there was a sense of pride that came with having a place of her own. Plus, hiking with her school projects that were often bigger than her was a bit much. She’d been smiling softly when a strange smell hit her nose. She paused in the middle of the sidewalk and looked in the direction her nose was picking up a more animalistic smell. Before it could even register fully in her mind, a raging moose was charging them. “Shit,” she yelled out and pushed Frank out of the way as she barely dodged getting impaled by a fucking antler. “What the fuck,” she grumbled as she regained her balance and stared the moose down, letting out a low growl. 

“Me too.” Frank’s smile hiked a little higher, and there was something knowing about it, like sharing in a secret that they both had, even if it was from each other. Though he did not necessarily indulge in the more cursed aspects of his existence, he always found that it was better to take it with good humour lest he drowns himself in self-pity; the latter being a significantly worse reality.

Frank spent the rest of their walk quietly observing the younger girl, his eyes squinted in a mixture of easy amusement and sharp curiosity. She spoke, a lot, and he listened, filing away pieces of information that he found useful or interesting: her relationship with the woods, her best friend, woodwork, how the three worked together to form an idyllic picture of the life Ariana wanted for herself. The pieces of information that went untold, fueled by a detailed history, alive and well as evidence in how she spoke. It made him wistful for a future that he never imagined for himself (he never tried to), and wanted dearly for her to have—her sudden stop elicited the same reaction in him, though it was obvious that she was sensing something that he wasn’t. Something he couldn’t. He heard the rumbling of hooves on pavement before he saw it, and even then he saw very little as a force, and a very impressive one at that, pushed him out of harm’s way, very nearly knocking him off his feet were it not for the swift sweep of his wings slowing gravity just enough for him to recover his balance—the product of instinct rather than any great skill. And then a low growl, unmistakably animal, and too near for comfort. First the ghost child TV, then the moose, now if he was about to get mauled by a fucking wolf Frank was going to lose his shit. Alas, there was just Ariana, and a very angry moose carving its way through the street before disappearing around the corner. No wolves to be seen…and yet. “Ariana, are you okay?” Concern coloured his words and made his touch more gentle as he reached out to examine her for any obvious injury. “Are you hurt?” And then finally, inevitably, “only in this fucking town.”

As she reoriented herself she swore she saw a flicker of wings on Frank. Ariana blinked slowly a few times and realized it must have been a trick of the light. Not that wings would be totally off base in this town, but the rest of their surroundings still felt surreal enough that she wrote it off. There was still a small lingering suspicion that maybe Frank wasn’t quite so human either. She’d have to observe him more carefully. She brushed herself off and answered, “Yeah, I’m fine. More startled than anything.” The moose kept running and rounded a corner. Maybe she should have been more concerned, but she simply didn’t have the energy to chase a moose right now. Not in this form. She figured she could shoot Kaden a text and let animal control deal with the seemingly pissed off moose. She stood still for a moment as he looked her over and kept her demeanor calm despite the internal ‘what the fuck just happened’ vibes she had going on. “I’m not hurt. Did only narrowly dodge becoming a moose kebab, but it be like that I guess,” she said with a slight laugh. “Yeah, that was super on brand for White Crest, but hey, neither of us turned into moose-pops today, so I’ll call it a win.” She was dying to ask about the wings, but she still wasn’t entirely sure of what she saw, so she’d file that one away for later. “To be safe, let’s keep moving in case he decides to come back for round 2.” She paused briefly as she started leading the way to her apartment before she finally caved and noted, “So… you were pretty good at catching your balance there.”

Ariana’s note was like a plunged blade, spearing through the glamour that he has tried so hard to maintain. Did it fall? Did she see? She couldn’t have. Frank’s wings were not little plastic accessories that you found hanging off some rack at some halloween store. They were huge, and not something that usually elicited such a casual response...not that he’s had many experiences to draw from. Yet at her remark, he prompted his face to smooth over any evidence of emotion, trying his best to manufacture the closest imitation to nonchalance. “Oh yeah? Thanks kid,” he said before allowing an edge of gentle humor pushed into the timber of his voice, “I mean I’d be a pretty shoddy bodyguard if I’m tripping over my own damn feet.” This made sense--even if Frank’s history of fighting recorded more losses than wins. “Maybe you should consider getting into the bodyguard business. That’s some arm you’ve got.” Needless to say, had it not been for Ariana’s quick reaction, his day would have gone in a very different, most likely more painful, direction. The reminder beckoned curiosity’s head to surface through the crack’s of his apathy, and despite the strangeness of the TV, the moose, he could not erase from his memory the distinct sound of a dog’s growl.

Curiosity also prompted him to vocalise his next words, but Frank was careful with them, lest he risked sounding insane in a town known for its strangeness. “After that moose, did you, I don’t know, hear anything weird? Like a growl?” Was he suggesting that he heard the moose...growl? Perhaps. But what was the more likely event: the moose growling or Ariana growling? Then again, little ghost girls were crawling out of leaky TVs and only moments ago they were almost ran over by a rampant moose and Frank himself had a literal silver tongue and giant wings stuck to his back, Ariana growling was hardly the strangest thing that happened in that afternoon alone.

“Fair point,” Ariana responded with a laugh. A clumsy bodyguard seemed like more of a hazard than protection. At the mention of having a strong arm, she shrugged. The full moon was quickly approaching so her strength was peaking though even during the new moon she liked to think her athleticism afforded her  a bit more in the way of strength. “What can I say? My natural athletic prowess surprises yet again,” she answered with a laugh. It wasn’t entirely a lie and she was tempted to just throw out the fact she was a werewolf. She was almost positive she had seen the briefest glimpse of giant ass wings on his back when he stumbled from her push. It was unlikely he’d have anything against werewolves. She was trying to have a little bit more in the way of tact regarding this kind of thing, but was pretty much failing at that. Would there really be much harm in telling him? As stoic as he was, he seemed to have a soft spot for her. Not that she could blame him. She was adorable and she knew it. 

As Ariana started to lead the way toward her apartment again, Frank mentioned the growl and she stopped in her tracks. Of course he heard that. Sometimes her instincts were stronger than her common fucking sense. If she was being honest, it was probably more than sometimes. She sighed and explained, “That wasn’t the moose. You did hear a growl. That was me.” She was already most of the way there to telling him, might as well go for it. “I’m a werewolf, that happens sometimes.” And there it was. Did this give her the ground to ask if she saw wings or would he just think she was crazy? She could probably chalk it up to weird teenaged Twilight daydreams if anything else. She watched Frank carefully, looking for any sign of how he was taking that little bomb. 

In summation: little ghost girls were crawling out of leaking TVs, they were almost ran over by a raging moose, flying fishes were a thing, and so was raining dog toys apparently, and Ariana was a werewolf. The truth settled over Frank like a blanket and he was unpanicked and strangely unperturbed, though either would have seemed a more conventional reaction to the news. In fairness, that tends to happen when you have a tongue that is literally silver and giant wings sticking out of your back. She could have told him that she was Irish (considering how often she was at the Irish pub), and his reaction would not have differed greatly from that he had on now: raised brows, mouth slightly parted as if wanting to say something but unsure of what, and a pensiveness had settled over his eyes as he digested this new discovery. “You are…a werewolf.” 

The first time Patrick told Frank that he was a fae, and that Frank was one too, he laughed (and then punched him again, but that could also be accredited to several other factors), and though the reality of his situation seemed entirely too impossible to be logical, his father’s explanation was the only one that made sense. Frank didn’t laugh this time, but was instead preoccupied with another thought: why was she volunteering this information? He was suddenly very acutely aware of his wings, and the effort he exerted to keep them hidden—like one who was suddenly very cognizant of their own breathing, and the mechanics of that unconscious process. She did see his wings, was the first thought, followed by a question of whether he minded that she did? Was he comfortable enough to let her know of what he was, as she apparently was with her secret? Was it ever a secret? It wasn’t as if the subject came up in a lot of their conversations to begin with. “A werewolf like…Michael J. Fox, werewolf?” 

The news of her being a werewolf didn’t seem to come across as too much of a shock and Ariana was grateful for that. There was definitely some processing happening, but as much was to be expected. At least he wasn’t looking at her like she had five heads or something which meant he most likely believed her. “Yes, I’m a werewolf,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a secret, but shouting it from the rooftops would likely attract hunters that weren’t as understanding as the ones she knew. If she could help it, she’d rather not be a trophy on some asshole’s wall. She wanted to follow that statement with ‘you have wings’ because she was pretty sure she’d gotten a glimpse of them, but if she was wrong, he’d really think she was insane.  At the mention of being a Michael J. Fox werewolf, her features contorted in confusion and she paused for a moment. “Wait, what?” Her head tilted as she looked at him in earnest and said, “I have no idea what that means or who Michael J. Fox is. The gist of it is I become wolfy around the full moon, have a good sense of smell and strength, and really like red meat. Oh, and I guess I growl sometimes.” 

Well, fuck. There’s nothing quite like making an aged reference to remind you exactly of how old you are. “Michael J. Fox...like, Teen Wolf nineteen-eighty—you know what, don’t worry about it.” Although Ariana’s general description seemed to follow, more or less, the general formula of the werewolf myth Frank was familiar with, the strangest part of all of this was not that she was a werewolf but that he felt no distance between them since the discovery. No unease, or distrust; she was still exactly the Ariana he had come to know. The same Ariana who knew exactly which buttons of his to press, and the right words to say to coax a grin or a chuckle out of him, especially when he least expected it. In fact what he did feel was something more akin to relief. She wasn’t a fae but she wasn’t entirely human either—like him. A small part of Frank was almost envious of her. She was so comfortable with herself, she knew exactly what she was, and unapologetically so. She listed her traits with the familiarity and ease of a cook listing the ingredients of a well-known dish: no judgement, no prejudice, just simple facts. The same could not be said of himself. The subject of his fae heritage had always left a bitter taste in his mouth. One Frank washed down with cheap cigarettes and even cheaper alcohol, finished with a  serving of good old fashioned denial. You know, healthy things. “You didn’t have to tell me that you know,” he said, “why did you?”

No one had ever really asked Ariana that question before and it left her a bit curious. Frank definitely did not seemed bothered by her revelation or afraid of her in any way which was good. It wasn’t like she’d ever hurt him. Still, she supposed other people were a bit more tight lipped about their species than she was. The fact of the matter was that she liked Frank and she didn’t believe he’d ever do anything to hurt her. She shrugged as they rounded the corner toward her building and she answered, “I don’t know, it’s not like a big secret or anything. I mean, I don’t like broadcast it for the world to know, but given everything today, I didn’t think you’d be too shocked. Plus, pretty sure you’re not a hunter… not that hunters are automatically bad. I’m friends with a few, but still.” It dawned on her she was growing more curious about what he was so she added, “Plus, you don’t seem too shocked. Do you have like some sort of background with this stuff?” 

Frank kept his eyes forward, his expression betrayed little of his thoughts, but he could not deny the sliver of ice that slid down his spine at the mention of the word. Hunters. He didn’t know why that was. He also didn’t know why he started thinking about his father. Didn’t know why the word triggered the image of him to come to the forefront of his mind, and the fear that he saw in his eyes, or perhaps most frightening: the resignation in them. Most faes were immune to things that otherwise proved fatal to humans; difficult to kill if you didn’t know what you were doing, entirely possible if you did. Hunters would. Was that what happened to Patrick? Frank had never cared to ask, and thought little of that night since, until now. Not that hunters were automatically bad, Ariana had assured him. Frank offered her a smile (it looked off, but then again, it was Frank), though he wasn’t particularly eager to go out and test that theory either. He turned his gaze back down, and for a moment their eyes met. She knows. He lets out a sigh, his fingers raked through the side of his beard, unsure of how to put together the words he struggled to say even to himself in front of a mirror. “Er…yeah, you could say something like that. I mean not werewolves, obviously, you’d be the first, but other things.”

While it was still a mystery of how Frank knew all of this, he seemed to take it relatively with stride. At least, he wasn’t any more or less stoic than he normally was. Ariana was still curious to know if her hunch was correct, but he could tell her in his own time. She knew not everyone was as comfortable sharing their species as she was. Or maybe he was human and just didn’t try to make excuses for everything weird that happened in this town. She’d sworn she saw wings for a second there, but with everything else that happened, it was hard to tell. Either way, she offered him a warm smile as they neared her building. “Well, whoever said save the best for last was wrong then,” she joked with a smirk present on her face. She took on a more serious tone and added, “I know a lot of people here who have a bit of something extra, so if you ever find yourself in trouble or anything, let me know. Even if it’s not something you can throw a werewolf at, I usually know who to ask for help.” She stopped outside the front of her building and turned to Frank. With a small gesture, she said, “This is my stop. Keep an eye out for angry moose and let me know you make it home safe, alright?” 

The invitation was a door and Ariana had so graciously held it open for him. All warm smiles and not even a glimpse of a shadow to hint judgement or malice or a well to use the knowledge of what he was against him. But Frank’s history shackled his feet and he didn’t move but looked at her with feigned ignorance. He’d as good as closed the door himself and every part of him wondered why. Simply, it was not Ariana he wanted to hide the truth from but himself. So he could play grumpy bartender a little bit longer, supplying banter and alcohol to underage werewolves and deny the responsibility of his supernatural inheritance. It was fucking pathetic, he knew it, and he swallowed the truth with a smile as Ariana was delivered safely to her front door. Although that was perhaps more her doing than his. “I’m not going to ask who or how you know said persons, but I will keep that in mind. Personally, I hope that it never comes to that.” He mirrored the gesture back to her, a reluctant grin cracked across his face in a way only Ariana could force out of him, “yes ma’am. You stay out of trouble kiddo.” Somehow he knew, as soon as he said it, trouble and Ariana were never too far away from each other.

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch15

Yup, this beast is still going and still growing.  Life sapped my energy so it has been a lot longer between updates than I would have liked but I’ve been experimenting with writing out of sequence to make use of whatever creativity I can grasp.  The plus side of this is that ch16 is in the editing stages and ch17 is also half written.  But anyway....it’s taken a while but here is ch15 in the saga that has become affectionately termed ‘Bad Jeff’.

@willow-salix has been wonderful at helping be fix the plot holes and pick out the parts where I contradicted myself.  I now have a proper timeline though (funky multicoloured spreadsheet and everything) so I shouldn’t tie myself in knots so much with the boys ages and milestones.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Fifteen

The incoming call notification had Virgil scrambling for his phone, fumbling with the handset while trying to swipe a call accept icon that suddenly seemed too small and fiddly to be practical.  It took him three hasty attempts before managing to complete the action correctly, allowing him to finally speak to the brother who had been frustratingly out of contact.  Scott had been in LA for three days and Virgil was now desperate for news but he had promised he wouldn’t interfere lest he call at the wrong moment and inflame matters further.  It had been a nail-biting wait, forcing himself to be patient and trust Scott to call when he could.

“Scott, how is it?”  It took him a moment to register that the face on the screen wasn’t Scott’s despite what the caller ID proclaimed.  “Gordon?”  He was surprised to see a younger brother rather than an older one.

“Don’t sound so pleased to see me.”  There was an air of the old teasing Gordon making a slow return.

“Sorry.   Of course I’m pleased to see you,” and he genuinely was, the face that looked back at him was still too thin and pale for comfort but the hair was clean again and the eyes had lost their haunted glaze, “I just wasn’t expecting it.  Where’s Scott?”

“He’s here too.”  The scene on Virgil’s screen shifted quickly as the handset at the other end was spun round to reveal its rightful owner who gave a little wave.  “He said he was going to call you so I asked if I could go first.”

“Well, how are you?”

“I’m....okay.”  Virgil had made him promise in the past not to lie about how he was feeling, it was one of the reasons he had been pulling away; it didn’t count as lying if you just omitted the truth.  “It’s been a strange few days.”

“I’ll bet.”

“For a start I’ve found out that flyboy over there gets ever so twitchy if anyone else is at the controls of a plane.  You’d best hope you never have to take him as a passenger in that bumble bee of yours if it ever gets off the drawing board.  Or was it more like a turtle, that beast was green wasn’t it?”  The look of fear that crossed Virgil’s face would have been comical if it wasn’t so genuine and Gordon was given the sudden reminder that, as far as Virgil was concerned, he wasn’t meant to know about their father’s vision.  He was quick with his reassurances.  “It’s okay, Dad told me about his rescue plans”

“He still won’t tell Alan though” Scott called out from across the room, “Dad has taken him out to fetch ice cream so we can talk freely for a few minutes.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah,  I think he’s just trying to cover some of his own guilt.  He’s still no Dad of the year though.”  Scott's tone was derisive and Virgil could tell that tensions must still be running high.  “He’s going to have to tell him sooner or later, he can’t just spring it on the kid that he is being dragged out of school and shunted across the world when the island move happens.”

“What, you mean like he gave us time to prepare for the move to LA?”  Gordon snorted.  “I don’t know about you guys but me and Alan didn’t exactly get much warning when we left Kansas.”

This surprised the older two who had known all about the plan, the many arguments were etched in their memories.  In this case the problem child had been John.  Scott had been making the transition from university to the Air Force and Virgil had been busy preparing for his studies at Denver but John had been on a path that didn’t align with their father’s business plans.  The fifteen year old, with a coveted place at Harvard nearly in his grasp, had begged to stay so he could finish high school without interruptions; he had worked hard to stay two grades ahead of the curve and an inter-state move could undo it all.  Of course letting John live alone had been out of the question, and Jeff had not been prepared to delay the move, leading to  flares of temper and defiance that none of them had realised the middle child was capable of.  It was only when Grandma stepped in, offering to return from New Mexico to become custodian of the farm and care for John during that final year that their father relented.  With all of the concerns over John and his university dreams it hadn’t occurred to either of them that the youngest two hadn’t been told about the move.  Evidently their father’s policy of ‘need to know’ was long running. 

“Don’t worry Gords, Scott and I will make sure that Alan gets told.  If Dad’s idea happens, and knowing Dad it probably will, Alan won’t just have another move sprung on him.  I promise.”  There was sincere honesty in those deep brown eyes and Gordon gave a subtle nod of thanks.  “So tell me everything that has been happening over the last few days.”

Gordon recounted everything that had happened since Scott’s arrival, prompted by said older brother if he missed anything out.  Virgil winced at the revelations.  Even with the sanitised highlights he could tell that the last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster.  In some cases the revelations were beyond his worst fears and he couldn’t help feeling proud of his little brother who had been living through harder circumstances than any of them had imagined.

“Which brings us to today,” Gordon brought the tale up to the present, “Dad’s decided I need to learn to fly seeing as this island he’s chosen isn’t exactly on the commercial air routes.  Alan’s going to start learning too; Dad wasn’t happy about that idea but Scott reminded him that he started learning at Alan’s age.  You should have seen him up there, Alan is an absolute natural.”  Gordon’s voice glowed with pride at the achievements of his little brother.

“You didn’t do badly yourself” Scott cut in from across the room.

“So why were your knuckles white the whole time?”

“Hey, as you said, I just like being the one in control.  It was no different when Dad was piloting and he’s clocked up more flight hours than the rest of us put together.”

“I can just imagine it” Virgil snorted, “you should’ve seen him supervising John when he was learning to drive.”

Gordon glanced across at Scott who had visibly paled at the memory, before turning his attention back to Virgil. “So yeah, I’ve now got to fit in pilot training and exams around getting back up to strength for WASP selection.”

“And WASP is definitely what you want?  You aren’t just going along with it so you can get away from Dad?  I know you’ll be able to do it, but please don’t enlist unless you’re really sure.”

Gordon wasn’t sure if that was the concerned older brother or the family pacifist speaking; WASP was still military after all and Virgil had made no secrets of his thoughts in that direction.  But equally Virgil knew how stubborn he was and how he would never back down from a challenge and had managed to resolve his difference with Scott over the Air Force so he chalked the questions up to brotherly concern.

“Yeah, I’m sure.  It’s a good life Virg, something I can really make a career out of and the opportunities for officers…”

“Officer?” This definitely surprised the distant sibling.  The widened eyes elicited a slight blush from Gordon.

“Um, yeah, that was Scott’s idea.”  He was still having a little trouble reconciling himself to the notion that he was cut out to lead.  

“Not just my idea” said brother called out from his perch on the bed, “the Marineville lot wanted to transfer you to officer training too.  This time round you’ll just be applying for the officer steam from the beginning.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,”  Gordon shot Scott a glare of mock indignation, earning a chuckle from Virgil “it’s a good life.  And yes, this time I’ll be trying out as an officer.  I’ll have to redo the aptitude tests, different benchmarks and all that, but we’ve been looking into it and my scores were already at the right level.  There’s just one additional aptitude test for officers that I never took before.  I’ve tried an online practice test and did ok so I should be alright.  I’m booked in to take it for real in a fortnight.  After that it’s selection at Marineville again and then hopefully I’m in.  It’ll take a few months but by the summer I should have my first posting.  The officer intakes don’t happen as frequently as junior ranks so I’ve got time to train.”

“You seem to have it all mapped out and not a college course in sight.”

“Nope.  Thanks, both of you.  It’s...it’s been a hard few months and I couldn’t see a way out of it all.”

There was a noticeable slump in Gordon’s posture and the light went out of his eyes as the memories of his recent trials flooded back in.  It broke Virgil’s heart to see how on a knife edge his brother still was and he knew he and Scott would need to keep a close eye on their younger sibling for a long while yet.  At least Gordon had a goal to work towards again; they both knew his steely determination and drive to succeed. Once he had set his sights on a challenge nothing would stop him, the Olympics had proved that.

“Any time.  And don’t be a stranger.  If Dad starts getting on your case again or you just need to talk to someone you know where I am.  I’ve been told my couch is pretty comfy too if this new schedule of training and flying lessons allows you any time off.”

“Admit it, you just want me back for my cooking” Gordon smirked.

“Maybe…” Virgil gave his best puppy dog eyes, eliciting a chuckle from both his brothers.

Any further chatter was interrupted by the sound of the apartment door crashing open, announcing the return of Jeff and Alan from the grocery store, followed by Alan’s shouts that if they didn’t get out there quick there would be no chocolate chip left for them.  Both knew better than to treat this as an idle threat so with a hurried goodbye to Virgil they departed to claim their portions.

 xoxoxox

Life soon settled into a new routine.  Jeff still rarely made it back for dinner, they couldn’t expect miracles over night, but he was getting better at being home before Alan went to bed at least.  Gordon suspected that had something to do with the ‘discussion’ Scott had with Jeff the night before he returned to his Air Force base.  The voices that drifted through the firmly shut study door had shown a flare of temper from both sides and Gordon had been grateful Alan was already in bed and so not around to witness the argument.  It was just as well Tracys were good at putting on a front, by the morning of Scott’s departure the tension had been firmly suppressed and Alan had been able to say goodbye to his eldest brother without any hint of bad feeling spoiling the moment. 

Where life before the Olympics had been a mix of school and swimming, so life for Gordon going forwards became a mix of physical training and flight theory with time in the air thrown in at the weekends.   He passed the WASP officer aptitude test easily enough but the next available selection course date wasn’t until after his birthday, leaving him with several months to focus on gaining the appropriate endorsements on his pilot’s licence to allow him to transport himself to and from his father’s intended island base.  

Gordon wasn’t bad at flying but he didn’t possess the raw natural talent of his youngest sibling.  He was competent and thorough with a steady hand but he couldn’t miss the looks of pride Jeff directed towards Alan as yet again the youngest of the family performed a manoeuvre as if he had been at the control yoke since birth.  It didn’t stop at looks either, all too often Gordon found himself on the receiving end of an unfavourable comparison only this time it was against his younger brother as opposed to his older ones and the arena was cockpit rather than classroom performance.  Evidently, for Jeff, old habits were hard to quell.

This time though Gordon wasn’t facing his troubles alone.  Scott would check in with him occasionally until an overseas posting took him out of contact but Virgil was his real lifeline.  Virgil made sure there was never more than a week between calls and often the gaps were smaller if he sensed Gordon slipping back and becoming more distant.  The brother who had taken on the role of counselor seemed to have an uncanny intuition when it came to Gordon’s mood.   

The extended time around his father however was still proving difficult and Gordon found himself eagerly boarding a flight to Denver to catch a much needed break.

As ever, Virgil was there to meet him at the airport.

“Good flight?”

“It was ok.”

“Not tempted to crash the cockpit then?”

Gordon just rolled his eyes and carried on out to the taxi ranks.  To his surprise though Virgil directed the cab to take them to the smaller private airfield out of town rather than the apartment.

“Sorry Gords” he got in response to his querying look.  “You know Dad said you gotta keep up your air time and this was the only runway slot I could get.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the deal.”  One of the conditions of a weekend with Virgil was that he got some time in the sky to make up for the lesson he was missing with his father.  “Are you alright with me taking up your baby?”

“I trust you” Virgil shrugged.  He wasn’t quite as in love with and overprotective of his plane as Scott was of his, but neither was he going to let on to Gordon that he had had a long and in depth discussion with their father about Gordon’s ability and competence before he had agreed to help with Gordon’s pilot education.

Gordon always thought it odd that Virgil had a plane but didn’t bother to run his own car, although the longer he spent in the air the more he could see the appeal.  Scott of course had always loved flight and it was no surprise to anyone that a big proportion of his allowance went on maintaining a craft that screamed billionaire playboy.  Virgil’s choice was more subtle and practical, if operating your own private plane counted as practical; perfect for hopping around the country from his central base in Denver to visit family on his own schedule.  Despite also being in possession of big enough allowance to afford it John had neither car nor plane having declared that flying commercial was much more sensible for his main coast to coast journey and he wasn’t one for pleasure flying; he was much more interested in what lay outside the atmosphere, far beyond the reach of a mere plane.

At the airfield Virgil maneuvered his little hopper out of the hanger he stored her in and then passed control over to Gordon.

“Go on then, show me what you can do” Virgil prompted after giving Gordon a quick rundown of the specific take off speed and other essential details he would need to operate the plane safely.  He settled back in the co-pilot's chair, exuding a calm confidence despite itching to keep his hands on the controls; Gordon might be his brother and Jeff had given assurances that all would be well but Virgil was still uncomfortably aware that he has supervising an unlicensed novice pilot.  

His fears were soon dispelled once Gordon started going through the motions in textbook fashion including performing his own pre-flight checks despite having watched those same checks being performed just a few minutes earlier.  A short burst down the runway and they were up in the air.  It wasn’t graceful and Gordon lacked the finesse that came with experience but Virgil was pleasantly surprised at the amount of  progress Gordon had made in such a short space of time.

The problem with flying though is that unless you are practicing something like aerobatics then just keeping a plane in the air is actually pretty easy, it’s the take off and landing that takes skill.  They weren’t making a journey so there was no real navigation to do beyond avoiding the restricted airspace and corridors used by the commercial flights and the weather was clear so flying by instruments was unnecessary.  All in all it was a thoroughly untaxing lesson, allowing them to relax and enjoy the time together.

“So how’s your project going?” Gordon asked as he banked to avoid flying directly over a village.

“It’s okay.  I’m on track to be done by the summer.”

“What will you do after that?  Move back to LA or stay out here?”

“Neither, hopefully.”  Gordon gave his brother a questioning glance of surprise.  “Got to get space rated for Dad’s project.  Me and John’ll be heading out to Tracy College for that, just waiting for confirmation of a course place.”

“Space rated?”  He had realised John would need to undergo astronaut training in preparation for life on a space station but most of the project specifics were still a mystery to him.

“Yeah.  Someone’s got to be able to play taxi service for John and I might need to take a rotation on call monitoring; he can’t live off planet forever.”

“Sounds like plans are really coming together for it.  Does this mean Scott will need to get space rated at Tracy College too?”

“Scott…”  There was a heavy pause and Gordon took his eye off the sky to regard his brother.  Virgil’s brow had furrowed into a frown and when he spoke again there was a heaviness that told of hidden arguments.  “Scott isn’t joining, he’s sticking to the Air Force.”

This surprised Gordon.  In the few conversations he had had with his father about the project, usually confined to a cockpit where Alan couldn’t overhear, Scott was talked about like Virgil was, as a committed member of the team. His role as first responder and pilot of the envisioned rocket plane had been presented in terms of undisputed fact.  No wonder the topic made Virgil look stormy, he was a peacemaker and if Scott wasn’t fitting in with their father’s vision Gordon could imagine that the arguments had been many and explosive.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  Oh.”

“So what’s going to happen there?  Surely you can’t manage with just the three of you?”

“I don’t know.  I’d like to think there is a contingency plan but Dad seems so sure Scott’s going to change his mind and do it.  They’re both as stubborn as mules though and neither wants to give up their dream.  It’s a good project, the tech looks amazing and we could really save lives.  I can see Scott’s point though, he’s made a life for himself away from Dad and, well, you know yourself what Dad can be like for giving orders.”

Gordon knew all too well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of those orders, particularly when they were at odds with your own plans.  At least Scott had the advantage of physical distance as a buffer to the disapproval and if push came to shove, if Jeff cut Scott off as punishment, the Air Force pay was enough to live on even if it meant Scott had to change his lifestyle to suit the lower budget.

Gordon made the final approach back towards the airfield, diverting the full attention of both brothers to monitoring the landing.  As with the take off it wasn’t polished and it wasn’t pretty but it was safe and Virgil found himself once again admiring just how far his brother had come in such a short space of time.  He wondered if, given time, Gordon would join the team.  Jeff hadn’t made any mention of Gordon taking on a role in the rescue organisation, even if he was now allowed to know of its existence, but there was no denying that having an extra pilot on books could only be a good thing.  Maybe one day he and Gordon would fly together, the more time he spent with his brother the more he enjoyed the company although, Virgil reflected, if they were to fly as a team he would be happier if Gordon took the co-pilot’s position.

With the plane back on the ground and safely returned to her berth in the hangers Virgil pushed all thoughts of Gordon joining the rescue business out of his mind; unless their father issued the instruction there was no point even considering the option.  And anyway, Gordon was heading off to the military like Scott had so who knew if he would even want to join the project.  Better to just let their father know that the required flying lesson had gone without a hitch then settle back to enjoy the weekend. 

[hellas-himself]

More Than Enough

Remember that self indulgent crack ship holiday fic I was writing about Cassian and Feyre? And how I couldn’t seem to mix the past with the present? 

It’s a fic now. Still in the same AU just like... the year before. Leading up to the cheesy ass nonsense it is now. Originally it was going to be angsty at first but I think we have enough of that in our real life. If you haven’t read the crackship holidays featuring these two dumbasses, start here or on AO3.

Also. I promise all my other fics are not being abandoned. 

I’ve had a playlist to listen to when writing them but it is so incredibly inappropriate if you understand spanish. and i haven’t made it onto spotify yet. But this song reminded me of them and that’s where the title comes from. Which is funny because Alina is who i put beside Toni Mafud as Rhys and Feyre whenever fan casts come up. ANYWAY. 

Let’s follow Feyre as she thirsts after her best friend. 

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.

I blame it on the music.

Cassian lost his shirt about half an hour ago and is doing pull ups. The garage door is open, letting in the cold winter air. My fingers are cold but I don’t like wearing gloves when sketching. I had been working on hands and eyes but once he tossed his shirt… It’s not like I’ve never seen Cassian without a shirt on before. Between him and his brothers, they seem to always find an excuse to not wear one. But the difference is I don’t find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to run my fingers down their backs.

It’s definitely the music.

Even if I didn’t understand the words, the beat itself is way too sensual to not be about anything else but sex. But the lyrics and Cassian’s sweaty, half naked body mixed with the fact that I haven’t had sex in months is probably the worst mix. I am not supposed to be imagining sleeping with my best friend.

I clear my throat, startling Valo who was falling asleep at my feet.

“Sorry, baby, I need a drink.”

I set my sketch book and pencil down on the crate beside my chair.

“Would you get me a drink, bunny?” Cas breathes out and my face flushes all the more. I didn’t need another detail to this stupid daydream.

“Yeah,” I squeak and head into the house. I already know his post workout drink recipe by heart. I drink ice cold water while the blender is going.

Cassian is suspended in the air, holding his entire body parallel to the floor with his hands. Goddamn him. He drops his head back so that he’s looking at me upside down and he smiles.

“I love you,” he says and I roll my eyes.

“I’ll love you more if you don’t bust your ass.”

He chuckles and just to drive the nail in the coffin that is my desire to be the reason he’s making noises like that, he slowly lowers his body and resumes his pull ups. I set his cup on the table where he has his tools and go back to sit down.

Cassian drops down and walks over to his mat to do his cool down stretches. A new song comes on and the words are so filthy that I find myself staring at him. His tattoos. My ex-boyfriend had always believed I was into Cassian- and I wasn’t. But I wasn’t blind and I’ve been at his house almost every single day since Thanksgiving- he is always without a shirt.

It’s just the music.

“Plan on drawing me?” Cassian asks and I blink. I look away from his tattooed chest and to his face. He is smirking. Shit.

“Uh. Yeah. What better way to do anatomy studies than with a living reference?”

“Anatomy, huh?”

He flashes me a grin before he walks over to the table for his drink.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner?”

His question distracts me from looking at his ass.

“Uh, whatever you want… I’m not really craving anything.” Except you. I sigh and cover my face with my hands and lean over. I need a cold shower.

“Hey… You alright?” he asks softly.

I nod and slowly sit upright.

“I’m just… I’m fine. I promise.”

He doesn’t believe me but he walks over to grab his speaker.

“I love this song,” he says and starts to sing along to it as he gratefully goes back into the house.  

Cassian meets me in the living room now dressed in a white tee and grey sweatpants. He lifts both my legs up so that he can sit down. This is normal. I always use his lap to rest my legs.

“I ordered Greek, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I told you, I’m not craving anything except-”

Fuck my entire life. Cassian raises a brow and I toss him the remote.

“Why don’t we finish your show so then we can watch my movie?”

This pacifies him and thankfully, his stupid show is so violent and bloody that all thoughts of fucking my best friend fade from my mind.

*

Our annual Christmas party is tonight and I’ve found an outfit. It is the kind of outfit Tamlin would have told me not to wear. It’s blood red and insanely inappropriate for winter with its spaghetti straps and super low neckline. Mor says it’s the perfect thing to wear after a break up and just the thought of all the pictures we’ll take with me and Cassian together makes me believe it.

I hang the dress up in the closet of Cassian’s bedroom. The heels are set beside his dress shoes and I can’t help but think about his reaction. Of dancing with him all night and coming back here and-

“Bunny!” 

“I’m in the closet!”

I hear him chuckle. 

“Shut up,” I call out and walk into the bedroom to find him pulling off his shirt. I feel my face go hot.

“I’m going to shower… do you want me to use the other bathroom?” 

“What? No, this is your house,” I say far more casually than I feel. “Besides, we’ve got time, we can share.” 

I want to punch myself in the face. Cassian starts to grin. 

“The shower might be a little too small for the both of us but I’m sure we could find a way to-”

Cassian laughs when I smack his arm. 

“Not exactly where I like being spanked but I’ll take it.”

“Oh my god, Cassian.”

He laughs and disappears into the bathroom. I force myself to leave the room when I hear the water.  

*

Cassian walks into the kitchen in nothing but a towel, his hair wet, water dripping down his chest. He walks over and takes the sandwich from my hands.

“Fuck, we’re out of beer,” he mutters as he opens the fridge. I grab the second sandwich I made, expecting him to steal from my plate and force my gaze up. On his stupidly gorgeous face.

“I can go get some,” I say but he shakes his head and walks over to take my cup of iced tea.

“Are you cool with us taking a cab tonight?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” 

Cassian drinks from my cup and sets it down before pinching my cheek. 

“It’ll just be you and me,” he says softly. “So don’t worry about it.”

I blush at this and Cassian kisses my forehead. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed. Thanks for the snack,” he says with a wink and walks away.

*

I keep my makeup rather muted; lip gloss and the usual winged liner. Nude eyeshadow. Cassian picked out the highlight and I have to admit, he chose well. My hair isn’t going to get any better, so I leave it in loose waves rather than the curls I’d wanted. I’ll leave that to Mor. I feel nervous, this is the first time since the breakup that I’m going out with all of our friends but Cassian will be there, and that’s enough to ease my nerves. Almost.  

“Our ride is here,” Cas says as he walks into his bedroom. He stops and just stares. I approach him and hold out my ID card and debit card, needing to ignore the way his attention has me feeling.

“I don’t have pockets.”

“What?” He blinks and looks down at my hand. He laughs and pulls his wallet out. “You only need your ID.”

“Maybe so,” I say and reach out to smooth down the collar of his shirt while he puts my cards away. I remember my lip gloss and put it in his back pocket, giving him a wink.

Cassian holds my hand when we go outside, helping me down the steps and the driveway. It’s a regular occurrence, but I blush when he opens the door for me. And when he slides an arm around my shoulders when he sits down beside me. We take a bunch of pictures and call Cassian’s parents to check on Val- as if we hadn’t seen him an hour ago. 

When we get to the club, Cassian holds my hand as we walk inside. Cassian and the boys are all friends with the owner, so we get to skip the line.

“Where are we going?” I ask as Cassian leads us up to the VIP lounge.

“Meeting up with Rhys.”

“What’s he doing up here?”

Cassian chuckles. “You know Rhys never passes a chance to be extra as fuck.”

I can’t argue with that.

Upstairs, Cassian helps me out of my coat. His fingers brush my skin and my mind takes a swan dive into the gutter.

“What do you say to a few drinks before we go downstairs?” he asks as he takes my hand. The bouncer outside the lounge acknowledges us with a nod.

“Yeah, I could use it.”

Cassian flashes me a grin and then opens the door.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone shouts and I find all of our friends standing under a Happy Birthday banner.

I am at a loss for words and Cassian laughs, bringing me further into the room. I’d completely forgotten about my birthday, I hadn’t cared enough to even think that anyone else would. But Elain is here with Az. So is Rhys and Lucien, Amren, Varian. Viv and Kallias, too. I’m separated from Cassian as I’m hugged and kissed by everyone. I realize Tarquin and Cresseida are here as well. Rhys is the one who breaks open the first bottle and we all stand around the little table to take shots.

“There is a cake,” Elain says as she hands me another shot. “But that’s later.”

“Later?”

She winks at me and shouts for Azriel.

“That’s my favorite song!” she exclaims and her husband happily ditches his brothers to go out and dance with his wife.

Lucien and Rhys pull me in for another hug as the others begin to trail down to the dance floor.

“You look good enough to eat,” Lucien mumbles and I laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’re already drunk, Luce.”

“We may have pregamed at the house,” Rhys admits. “But we took an uber! It’s okay.”

I roll my eyes.

“You both suck. I’m going to go find me two other cute boys to dance with. Boys who would have invited me to pregame with them and no amount of flirting is going to fix that.”

They begin to whine and I laugh, holding onto Rhysand’s forearms as they keep me caged between them.

“Alright! You win!” I say with a laugh and look over to find Cassian looking my way. He smiles.

I want to ask him to dance but Mor pulls him away before I can open my mouth.

We drink and dance and drink and dance and drink some more. I feel light headed and everything makes me laugh. But I haven’t danced with Cassian yet and that’s enough to dampen the mood. I push my way through the crowd until I find Cassian at the bar. I take the empty barstool beside him and sit down. I order myself a margarita before turning to face him.

“And where have you been all night?” I ask and Cassian smirks.

“Enjoying the night,” he says and takes a sip of his drink.

“Without me?”

I don’t understand the look in his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink. He sets the glass down and leans forward. I didn’t really understand just how short this dress was until he lays his hand on my thigh. If I turn my chair completely, if he moves his hand just an inch more…

“Yes,” he says and kisses me cheek. “But I think I’m about to enjoy it more now.”

“Why?” I manage to say. Cassian’s hand brushes my thigh as he sits upright.

“I’m about to go dance with my best friend.”

“Are you now?”

My drink is set before me and I grab it, chugging it down as Cassian slides off his chair. He turns mine so that I’m facing him completely and puts his hands on my hips.

“If she says yes, of course.”

I finish the last of my drink and set down the glass.

“When have I ever said no to you?”

Cassian grins.

I have danced with Cassian many times. At parties, at the beach, at clubs and bars and festivals. At his parents’ house. I should be used to the feeling of his body against mine, of his hands on me while we dance but not like this. I want nothing more than to take him back up to the lounge and push him down on the sofa or go find an empty bathroom stall.

But I don’t.

Birthday cake and alcohol isn’t the best mix, but I haven’t felt this alive in months. My face hurts from laughing, from smiling. My vision is spotty from all the pictures we’ve taken but I don’t care. Everything is right in the world.

“My feet hurt,” I complain and sit on Cassian’s lap.

“Want me to rub your feet?”

I shake my head and lean into him.

“No. Not until I’m showered.”

He laughs. “Okay.”

I sigh when he wraps his arms around me. He is so warm and smells so good, I want to stay this way forever.

“I think the birthday girl is done for the night,” Rhys says teasingly and I realize I was dozing off. I look up to see Rhys standing there with a stupid smirk on his face.

“Fuck you,” I say and curl up in Cassian’s arms. I feel his hand holding my dress down from showing everyone else my ass.

“Tempting,” Rhys says and then shoves his hands in his pockets. “But I think I’ll pass.”

I don’t think much of the look Rhys gives Cassian in favor of playing with his hair. I take way too much satisfaction in the knowledge that not everyone gets to do this, and that he enjoys it. Cassian seems to win whatever silent staring contest he and Rhys were having and Rhys rolls his eyes and goes after his boyfriend.

“You’re making me sleepy, bunny.”

“Good thing we’re going home together then,” I say before my mind catches up. But Cassian only chuckles and hugs me a little closer.

*

Cassian and I are a laughing mess as we stumble into the house. I lean on him to step out of my heels and he laughs as I shrug off my coat and toss it at him. We’re both trying to catch our breath, and I swat his hand away when he tries to tickle me again.

“I’m taking a shower,” I breathe out and walk off but he stops me.

“Wait,” he says and I turn to find him smiling.

“What?”

“Happy birthday,” he says softly and pulls me in for a hug. “I promise I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Hm… you really know the way to a girl’s heart, Cas.”

He pinches my side and I yelp.

“Go shower,” he says and kisses the top of my head.

“I won’t be long.”

My shower is clumsy and not at all relaxing. My feet hurt. So I put lotion on my body and grab the bottle of perfume that is on the dresser, except it’s not perfume but cologne. I shrug and put on Cassian’s Nirvana tee shirt and double check I actually have underwear on before I go looking for him.

“Cas?” The house is dark save for the light coming from his room. “My feet fucking hurt.”

He says something but I don’t understand it. His room is open and I step inside, finding him lying on his bed. He’s got basketball shorts on and his hair is loose.

“Bunny!” he says as if he hadn’t seen me all day. “I almost busted my ass in the shower.”

“Me, too.” I say with a laugh. “Maybe we should’ve showered together. It would’ve been safer that way.”

“I like the way you think, Archeron.”

He holds his hand out to me and when I’m close enough, he pulls me into bed with him. “You smell good.”

I snort. “I smell like you.”

“Exactly.”

I swat his arm but he ignores it, putting his arms around me.

“My feet hurt,” I complain, hoping he’ll make good on his promise.

“Just stay here,” he says simply.

My heart stops and starts too fast.

“Like… sleep here?” I ask too quietly.

“Mhm.” He goes quiet for a moment and then groans. “I forgot to turn the light off.”

“I can do it,” I say.

“No… Stay here.”

He goes quiet once more, and I let myself relax. We haven’t shared a bed since we were kids, playing video games until Adela would force us to go to bed. I smile at the thought and rest my head against his chest.

“Goodnight, Cas,” I say quietly, my eyes getting heavy.

“Goodnight, bunny,” he says and lets me go to stretch. Then he wraps his arms around me again and moves us so that we’re on our sides. He presses a kiss to my forehead and I close my eyes, letting the warmth of him lull me to sleep.

.

.

.

@mythicaitt @bookloveaffair @nalgenewhore @candid-confetti 

[jessironi89]

WELCOME!

Welcome to my bitty shop! Here I have quite a few bitties up for adoption. Be sure to check all of them out and hit me up with questions if you have any.  Nightmare Bitties: 

TealMare: As close to original Nightmare you will probably get. He is a mean bean but there are times where they aren’t as mean and you gotta take what you can get with them. They do still feed of negativity but positivity doesn’t necessarily harm them it just makes them grumpy and if you’re lucky they will get used to it and just get flustered or embarrassed at your niceness. This one loves apples. Surprising? nah not really.

PurbleMare: These ones are not as mean and are pretty neutral when it comes to how they act around you. They do have an unhealthy obsession with herbs and spices so you will most likely catch them in your pantry trying out all of them to see if they are good enough for their owner. They also experiment on combining spices and making a new spice sometimes to. Probably really enjoys cooking and if taught how would be a big help in the kitchen.  Favorite food is…….well any herb or spice they find.

GreenMare:  This is a good bean, with some anger issues. They love their owner and will do anything for them including getting angry at someone for being rude to you. Or will be ready to tear some asshole a knew one after you have a hard day at work and come home to vent. He will throw tantrums if he doesn’t get his way. Dont give in he will stop eventually just let him get it out his system and after he will most likely just cuddle up to your neck and go to sleep. His favorite food is sour patch kids candy. 

RedMare: This adorable little sad bean likes fire. No he loves it. He might be a little pyromaniac so be careful. Even so he is very loveable and needs all the cuddles to keep him from being to sad. Has bad anxiety so comfort and take care of him with all the care in the world and be patient as well. Favorite food is sugar cubes. 

TeableMare: This little hybrid is just adorable and very loveable. Can be a bit clingy so be careful where you sit cause you never know where the baby will be clinging to you from time to time. He loves to help you stay organized and will probably do as much cleaning as the small can for you just to impress you however he can. Favorite food is chocolate. 

Pinkmare: This little cutie is very loveable and loves to cuddle. Most of them will love you right away but there are some occasions where they are a bit skeptical. Dont worry though they will love you in time. Favorite food is strawberries. 

Orangemare: This one is a bit of an adventurer. You might catch him climbing around your furniture or even up your pants leg and shirt. He loves to seek out new adventures and if he is around other bitties will come up with fake little stories and adventures for them to go on in your home. Favorite food is anything citrusy. 

Yellowmare: This one loves anything shiny. jewelry, metal bottle caps, coins. Anything that reflects the sun and sparkles. A little bit of a hoarder you may sometimes find your shoes filled with stuff he finds and tries to hide or keep put up for later. Favorite food is pop tarts. 

Blancamare: A rather quiet Nightmare bitty. This one is also a bit more protective and acts more like the leader or parental figure of other bitties. He wont let anyone in your home that does not belong there and will also take care of other bitties you have when you are not at home or if you are busy. Favorite food is skittles.  Borrors (Horror Bitties) :

Each of these Horror bitties are tale bitties that were abandoned on the streets…. But, they tend to be aggressive at first for Sanses, but gradually calm down a few days in if you continue not to lash out. Each one id different in their own way and their soul magic varies per bitty. Once you earn their trust you will see each soul color sparks a different personality and shows just how caring they can be.  The thing is you have to gain their trust over time and you must be patient in doing so. Food also helps, keep them well fed and away from sharp objects until they trust you, then its just to protect you.Each one is treated and kept healthy here at the shelter. Each cracked skull has been fixed though some do not want it so that may vary depending on the bitty you adopt. They are also some who are pretty self conscious about the crack so they keep it hidden in their hood most of the time.In the end these bitties have been through hell and back and deserve a loving and caring home where they can grow and learn to love again.

Billers (Killer Bitties) :

These is the Biller set of Bitties. Each one represents each version of human souls.

PERSERVERANCE Biller: These bitties are very smart. The smartest of the other bitties to be exact and they really love to read. Reading is what you will see this bitty do a lot of and they will also probably as you to read with them many times. They also really enjoy stories so telling them stories would make their day. They could also help with any financial issues you need help with as well. Favorite food is grapes.  JUSTICE Biller: This bitty is just a bundle of joy and loves to play games like cowboys and Indians or laser tag. Anything where he can use fake weapon they are all for it. They can get a little anxious at times but all around are very caring bitties who learn how to use medical remedies to take care of other bitties and even their owners. Favorite food is lemons.  BRAVERY Biller: These little fighters love to spar and fight. They are big hearted beans who just enjoy a good rough housing sometimes. They are pretty tough so when you play with them you can be a little rougher then normal . If you aren’t you might end up with a pouty bitty who just wants to play with you. This one is a bitty who is in constant need of some sort of stimulation. Toys are very much recommended since sometimes even you cant play with them for to long due to other matters life throws at you. Favorite food is hotdogs.  PAITENCE Biller: These bitties are pretty much the essence of patience. They dont let much bother them and are pretty laid back. They love to accessorize and enjoy to change their wardrobe quiet often. They have quite the fashion sense and just love to look their best. They are probably your best bet at fashion advice when getting ready for an event or date. Favorite food is cookies.  INTEGRITY Biller: These bitties love music. If they get to upset or emotional music is always a good way to calm them or make them feel better. You may also catch them dancing if you’re lucky. Once they get used to you then youll catch them sleeping on your pillow or on your chest. They are like a cat and only want attention when they want it. If they aren’t in the mood you will probably get hissed at before they go about their business. Favorite food is sushi. 

KINDNESS Biller: Probably one of the sweetest bitties youll ever meet. Loves to cook for their owner and will love you unconditionally no matter what. Which could end up bad if they get a horrible owner. They love to cuddle but really love to cook with you or sit around and watch tv. Favorite food is eggs.

DETERMINATION Biller: These are full of Determination to just constantly cling to you like a koala. They need snuggles a lot, if they are deprived for to long they can become a small touch starved anxiety. If you feel you are going to be gone for a little bit to long make sure your bitty either has a companion bitty or has some sort of plushie to cling to till your return. Favorite food is twizzlers. 

KitKat (Error!Fell) :

Now this little edgy bitty loves to bite. And I mean loves to. A really good thing to get for this bitty are plenty of things to chew and knaw on. Ya'know something other then your fingers or shoes or….whatever else he would get in his mouth. 

Personality wise the Feller bitties can vary but they are mostly just very iffy about who touches them as well as very aggressive to those they are not sure of yet. It takes a while to gain their trust but once you do you have a friend for life. Feller’s are very cuddly and love to cuddle and snuggle. In fact before you do get their trust it is recommended to get them something to cling to while they sleep. 

Favorite food? Well they love spicy mustard and pretty much anything chewy. Gummy bears, pocky sticks anything they can crunch on or chew with their teeth is a good idea. They are also pretty nosey so if you have something you dont want found make sure these little guys dont know about that because they will go out of their way to mess with you by going through your stuff. 

Blueberror Bitty:

Blueberror bitties are now available! Each one will have its own personality when adopted so it will be at random. You wont know what his personality is until you adopt one so. Try your luck with this cutie! Cross Bitties: with xChara

without xChara

Cross bities are now available! Some come with xChara and others do not. Take your pick! Personalities may vary per bitty. Good luck!

[floatingpetals]

Boys in Blue || Pt. 8

Pairings: cop!Stucky x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of gun violence and blood, possible trigger warning(?)

Word Count: 3100+

Summary: (Cop AU) There was just one crappy thing after enough that happened to her. It possibly couldn’t get any worse, or so she thought until she saw the dreaded flashes of red and blue behind her. Could things get any worse?

A/N: This was going to be finished last night but noooo. Stupid painting. Anyways. I hope you all enjoy this next part... Maybe. I don’t know. It leans a little more on the serious side for this story. I won’t say much more to give it away. Let me know what ya’ll think! Enjoy!♥

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner. 

Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Series Masterlist

Y/N was at work when she got the call. The dreaded call that everyone feared they would get about their loved ones. Her work phone rang, which wasn’t strange. She didn’t spare a glance at the caller id before she answered, cradling the phone against her ear.

“Y/N speaking.”

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Steve was on the other end, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. Instantly Y/N knew something was wrong.

“Steve? Wh-whats wrong?” Frantically she began searching for her phone in her purse. It was on silent in the side pocket. The phone lit up, showing her the thirty-three missed calls from Steve and the several dozen messages from him begging to answer. Her stomach dropped to her feet.

“B-Bucky,” Steve started. His voice caught, a sob struggling to force its way to the surface. He swallowed loudly before continuing. “Bucky was shot.”

All the blood drained from Y/N’s face. She sank back in her seat, a buzz starting to grow in her ears. This couldn’t be happening.

“He’s in surgery. I don’t know how bad it is, they won’t tell me.” Steve continued. He was struggling to keep it together. All his training never prepared him for the agony he would feel after seeing the love his life get gunned down before his eyes. “Sweetheart- Y/N, I need you here. Downtown hospital.”

Y/N didn’t have to be asked twice. She was already logging out of her computer and tossing her phone back in her purse.

“Give me ten minutes. I’ll be right there, baby.”

Steve bit out an okay, his throat burning as he kept in the tears. He couldn’t cry, not now. Not yet. Y/N threw the phone in the cradle and sprinted to her bosses office. The man didn’t even need to know more details. He knew Bucky and Steve, knew their line of work. He saw the raw panic and the growing tears and immediately waved her off. She shouted a thank you over her shoulder before she sprinted to her car.

The drive was excruciating. Even though she was ten minutes from the hospital, it was too long. She needed to be there now. However, she also knew she couldn’t afford any delays. Instead, she gripped the steering wheel until the blood drained from her knuckles and gnawed at her lip until she tasted blood.

She thanked whatever God was up there didn’t have horrible timing of humor when she pulled into a front row parking. Slamming her door shut, Y/N raced into the ER entrance. Steve was there before she had time to look for him, wrapping her up in his arms in a crushing hug.

He buried his face in her neck, his body trembling as he hunched over and held her tight. Y/N immediately wrapped her arms around his broad back and clung to him like a lifeline. She let him take a moment to recollect his thoughts, to get his baring. Bucky might be hurt, but she wasn’t. she knew he needed to know that, to see that she wasn’t in any danger. Steve didn’t pull away until he calmed his breathing and let go of that concern.  

Y/N reached and cupped his cheeks between her hands, thumbing the tears away.

“What happened? Is he going to be okay?” Y/N asked with a trembling voice. Steve’s let his eyelids fall shut, his brows pinched together. His brain kept replaying the last few moments over and over again in his head. He should have seen the gun in the man’s waistband. The man wasn’t even a part of the original traffic violation, but he wanted to put himself in the situation.

“We pulled over a guy who had a taillight out. It was just a routine stop.” Steve began. “There was a pedestrian that didn’t like us, kept yelling at us to leave the guy alone. Bucky wasn’t even going to give him a ticket. Just a warning to get it fixed.”

Steve had to stop and take a deep breath. Y/N leaned and pressed a lingering kiss to his chin, hoping she could pass him some strength. Steve smiled shakily.

“The pedestrian kept getting closer and Bucky kept asking him to back up. The guy didn’t like it. I should have seen it.” Steve croaked, shaking his head. He clenched his eyes shut, guilt washing over him. “I should have stepped up and detained the man. He was getting belligerent. But we didn’t want to cause more discourse. We figured he’d yell and leave. But he didn’t.”

“He shot Bucky.” Y/N whispered the tears she was holding back now flowing freely down her face. Steve nodded sharply.

“He shot Bucky point blank in the chest. I watched him collapse. I saw his blood splatter on the ground.” Steve cried quietly. “If it wasn’t for the guy we pulled over originally swinging his door open and knocking the shooter out, he’d have shot me. I watched Bucky get shot down, and all I could do was freeze.”

Y/N inhaled sharply. Not only was Bucky hurt, but she knew Steve was dragging himself down with guilt. This was more to him than just Bucky getting shot. Yes, it’s terrifying and scary, especially to watch the man he loves to get shot and possibly murdered right in front of him, except for Steve, this guilt included his inability to keep Bucky safe. He felt he failed.

Without pause, she closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. Steve clutched to her tightly, trembling and terrified of what was going to happen to Bucky. It kept repeating over and over in his head, the horror still painstakingly fresh. He couldn’t stop seeing the spray of Bucky’s blood, the flash from the muzzle, again and again. The shot still rang in his ears followed by the sound of Bucky’s body hitting the pavement. It made his throat feel tight, his eyes burned as the tears started to build once more.

“Hey, no.” Y/N gently took hold of his face between her hands. Her heart broke at the tears in Steve’s eye, the guilt written across his features. “I get that you feel like you’ve failed. You didn’t though. And I know Bucky sure as hell doesn’t and will never blame you for one stupid idiot, but right now, I need you to channel your inner future captain and stay with me. We need to figure out how Bucky is, and we need to be there for him. Right?”

Steve blinked rapidly, willing away the tears as he took in a deep shuttering breath. Y/N was right. He needed to pull himself together. Not just for himself, but for Bucky and Y/N both. He was trained for situations like this, he shouldn’t be completely losing it right now. He needed to be strong.

“Okay, good. Let’s go find a doctor and ask if they heard anything new.” Y/N let his face go to grab his hand. Steve’s eyes fell to their hands, watching Y/N link his fingers with hers, a calm washing over him as she dragged him over to the desk

“Hi. We were wondering if you knew the status on a James B. Barnes. He was shot on duty and no ones given us any of any updates on whether he’s okay or not.”

The nurse raised a brow and looked up at her over the desk with a touch of disdain. It made Y/N’s hackles rise. The nurse let out an irritated sigh and turned to her computer, clicking away on the screen.

“As I already explained to your friend, Dr. Temple is in surgery with him. Nothing new has changed in the five minutes he’s asked.” The nurse said in a monotone voice. Y/N scowled, that wasn’t nearly enough information.

“First off, neither Steve nor Bucky is my friend. They’re my boyfriends, so get that right. Second off, drop the fucking attitude and tell me exactly what the hell is wrong with him.” Y/N seethed. She kept her tone low to not make a bigger scene, but loud enough that the woman could hear the underlying fury. “We’re fully fucking aware he’s in surgery, but we need to know more. Did the bullet make a clean exit? Where did the bullet hit him? Did it shatter in his chest? Are there internal damages that could be life threatening? Did it hit any major arteries? Is the surgery to double check or is there something more? I don’t need your snark, I need answers and you’re going to give them to me. Either that or I’ll charge in the surgery room and get them myself.”

The woman blinked, physically reeling back as Y/N leaned across the desk and into her space. It was frightening how calm Y/N made herself out to seen despite the look of murder plainly written on her face. There was no doubt in the woman’s mind that if she didn’t tell Y/N what was on his file she’d most like stay true to her threat. The nurse shot Steve a concerned look, but he wasn’t paying the woman any mind. Rather, he was staring at Y/N with stars in his eyes, completely in awe.  

“Well?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side as she waited for the nurse to catch up. “Which option do you want to take?”

“I-uh.” The woman began to stutter, glancing between the computer and Y/N. Technically, she couldn’t tell Y/N or Steve. They weren’t kin or married. She didn’t want to get fired for this, but the crazed look in Y/N’s eyes made her think that was the least of her worries. She floundered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing for a few seconds.

“It’s alright, Karen.” A voice coming from the double doors stopped them both. A woman stepped out, with her hair still up in the cap for surgery. “I’m Dr. Temple. I assume you two are here for Sergeant Barnes?”

Abandoning the desk, Y/N and Steve rushed over to the doctor, leaving the nurse to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Yes, I’m his partner,” Steve said, his heart jumping to his throat. “Is he going to be okay? How is he? Did it do any damage?”

Dr. Temple laughed softly, holding her hands up. “Slow down, Sergeant. First, Barnes is fine. The surgery went well, especially considering where he got shot.”

“Where was it?” Y/N asked hesitantly.

“He was shot on his right side just below his clavicle. He didn’t have any shatter bones and there’s not internal bleeding that we weren’t able to stop. Nothing vital was hit either which is surprising considering how close he was shot. The bullet did have to be extracted, but fortunately for him the wound was clean and the extraction was done without a problem. He’ll scar and there probably will be a little physical therapy he’ll have to go through, but at least he’s alive.”

“Oh, thank God.” Steve let out a heavy sigh of relief and wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder to tug her to his chest. He firmly pressed his lips against her crown and let his eyes fall shut as he tried to steady his heart. Y/N could have cried from happiness to know Bucky was going to be okay and that this wasn’t going to set him back much. She clutched to Steve, the tears starting to prick at the corner of her eyes once again.

“Would you both like to go see him?” Dr. Temple asked with a happy smile. Unable to say any words, both nodded quickly, eager to see Bucky with their own eyes. Dr. Temple waved them to follow her through the double doors and down the hallways.

She led them up to the elevator and down the recovery hall before pausing at a doorway.

“I do want to let you know, he looks worse than he is. He’ll also probably still be asleep for a while as his body heals. We’re hoping we can move him out of recovery and into a room downstairs by tomorrow, but it all depends on how quickly he wakes up.”

She slowly opened the door and stepped aside, letting Y/N and Steve in first. Y/N sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Bucky laid out under the white sheet, machines hooked up to his arms and the soft beeping of the monitor echoing in the room. Pulling away from Steve, she rushed over to his side and took hold of his hand. Steve stood at the end of the bed, a new wave of guilt washing over him as he looked down at his partner and boyfriend.

Dr. Temple saw the dark expression on Steve’s face, having seen that exactly look many times before on her patients family. Gently tugging Steve aside, she kept her voice low not to attack Y/N’s attention as she spoke with Steve.

“I read the file of the incident. Nothing you did was wrong and nothing you could have done would have stopped that man from shooting him.” She said sternly. Steve stared at her in shock. “I know that you think you could have done something, but speaking from experience, things are different when it’s your loved one's life is on the line. Nothing you could have trained for would have ever prepared you for that. At the end of the day, you still got him to a hospital and were here waiting for him come out of surgery. He’s not going to blame you for freezing and neither should you.”

She patted his shoulder firmly before walking away, leaving him standing there with an unreadable expression. How a complete stranger knew what he was thinking was incredible in of itself, but the fact that she cut right to the chase made him stop to think. This wasn’t something he was going to get over that easily, as much as he wished he could. It still didn’t mean it was his fault either. Hearing someone else, a complete outsider that knew nothing about their situation, tell him the same thing made his thoughts settle. Even if it was for only a moment, he wasn’t going to wallow in his self-pity.

“I’m going to give you two sometime with him. Just hit the button if you need anything.”

Y/N uttered a thank you as the doctor left, shutting the door behind her. Y/N turned back to Bucky and smoothed the hair from his face, his soft curl uncontained without his usual gel to keep it back. He was paler than he usually was, no doubt from the trauma and blood loss he suffered. A large bandage was wrapped around his chest, securing the wound from the outside germs. Beyond that, he didn’t look like he had just been shot in the chest but that still didn’t make this any easier to swallow. With a tender touch, Y/N traced the pads of her fingers down the side of her cheek, smiling through the tears as she did.

Steve pulled up a chair beside where Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on her thigh. Y/N glanced at him, reaching down to squeeze his hand with hers. Neither said a word at first, both too engrossed to stare at Bucky, needed it to believe he was still there.

“Thank you for being here, with us,” Steve spoke quietly, breaking the silence.

“Nothin’ to thank me for, Steve,” Y/N mumbled. “He’s my boyfriend to worry over too.”

“I know,” Steve let out a sigh. “I’m just grateful to have to too is all. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

“Probably still be tyrin’ to get that nurse behind the desk to tell you answers.” Y/N snorted with an eye roll. Steve chuckled softly.

“Yeah. Probably.”

“Hey,” Y/N cupped Steve’s face and tilted it to face him. “I’d still want to be here even if one of you stubbed your toe or broke an arm. I care about you both, a lot. I’ll always be here for either of you, no matter where or what time of the day it is.”

Steve couldn’t reply, his voice was lodged in his throat as he listened to Y/N speak gently. He could only smile and bite back the tears before he leaned forward and kissed her. Y/N grinned in the kiss and leaned into it, desperate to convey just how much they meant to her through the touch. She didn’t want there to be any doubt in his mind that she didn’t mean what she said.

“Don’t I get some of that?” Y/N gasped at the sound of Bucky’s raspy voice and pulled away. She spun back to Bucky and tightened her hold on his hand.

“You’re awake!” She cried. Bucky shot her his lopsided grin, moving to sit up against the pillows. A sharp pain exploded through his chest, causing him to hiss low and freeze in place. Y/N scowled, and Steve made a noise of irritation. “Don’t move! You just got out of surgery you dolt!”

Bucky chuckled through his gritted teeth but settled back on the bed with Y/N’s carefully guiding hands.

“Yup. Forgot about that.” He groaned, letting his body go slack. He took a second to do a mental once over of his body. He had all fingers and toes. But it felt like he got run over by a truck, his body aching while his chest felt on fire. Not the best feeling in the world to wake up to, he thought bitterly. Steve pushed off the chair and reached for the button across Bucky. He could see the pain written on Bucky’s face, plain as day.

“If you’re in that much pain, I’ll have them bump up your morphine drip.” He replied. Bucky opened his mouth to argue. He didn’t want any more pain meds, he already was hating the fuzzy feel he had right now. However, the pointed look Y/N sent his way stopped him short.

“You were just shot Bucky.” She repeated. “You’re allowed to want relief for the pain.”

“I know.” Bucky relented with a sigh. Y/N was right. “Just hate feeling weak is all.”

Y/N let out a deep breath, biting her tongue from making a comment. Now was not the time either. A nurse walked in before they could say more, and Y/N stood to move out of her way. Bucky grimaced and tightened his grip on her hand, dread flashing across his face. He inhaled sharply and the monitor picked up a frantic pace.

“You-you’re not going to leave, are you?” He whispered in a quiet broken voice, anxiously glancing between the two of them. Y/N cooed softly and brushed her hand along his forehead, hoping to silence his fears. Steve walked around to wrap an arm around Y/N’s waist and rested his chin against her shoulder, watching Y/N calm Bucky. Slowly, Bucky began to relax to her soft murmurs of reassurance, the tension slipping away.

“No, baby. We’re not goin’ anywhere. I promise.”

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[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Be My Garden of Eden Ch.5

When he came to, he was staring at the roof of a dilapidated building, mildewed and stained. A system scan informed him of a replacement joint in his shoulder, and new thirium lines in place of the damaged ones. His chest plate was switched out as well, the dents and tears completely gone. Other places that had 'scarred' were sautered closed and buffed out. With his synthetic skin on, they were no longer visible. 

He's been at this address before, with a client. Where were you? How long has he been here? His injuries were repaired, so it must have been real, right? It wasn't another elaborate fantasy, was it? Was he getting so lost in his head that he could no longer tell dreams from reality? Was it so far-fetched to believe you cared about him? 

That he could be free?

No, please, no. He can't go back, not anymore. Not to that repulsive club. To the horrendous people and that vicious owner. You were his owner now. He was gonna live with you and be whatever you wanted him to be. He was going to be happy.

His view of the roof became obscured, so he blinked, feeling something run down his face. He touched it, fingers coming away wet. Looking up again, he could see no fresh watermarks above him. Water kept filling his eyes though, and he kept having to blink it away. Was this… was he crying? Can androids cry? He rubbed at his eyes as a sob erupted from him. What if his client saw? He needed to stop, he needed to-

"-Piece of work, you know that?" Your voice rang, full of annoyance. The panic that had been threatening to suppress him released its grip almost immediately.

"I just calls it as I sees it. Though, gotta say, you picked yo'self out a fine slice." A male voice rang out, laughing. A program he had automatically ran the voice through some kind of database.

Eugene "TriXx" Wilhelms

Born: 10/11/2016

Criminal record: drug possession with intent to sell, possession of illegal substance, forgery, theft, identity theft, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, driving without a license.

He never understood why a sex bot needed this kind of program. It completely undid the point of discrepancy. He had learned many people's background this way, but he could do nothing about it. They were paying clients and he was their toy. This man, however, he had met before, in a similar building, selling meth to one of his clients. He had his own android with him, a PL600. Something about the android made his synthetic skin crawl, but he had no reason for it. He had never met him before, nor did he do anything of particular interest.

The real question was, why were you here, and with such a dangerous man? Sitting up, he found you heading toward him.

"Connor! How do you feel?" You looked him over, taking his face and looking him up and down. It was then that he realized he was dressed, wearing a grey sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. They felt nice. Not as comfortable as the over-sized clothes you had lent him, but far better than his old clothes, or running around in only those horrible briefs. You had switched out of your black tights, wearing tight-fitting jeans instead, though you still wore the same boots. He could see the trace amounts of thirium still staining them.

"I'm okay, " Con answered. Your hands wiped at his tears, smile melancholic. "Where are we?"

You looked back at the man, hesitating, before turning back to Connor, removing your hands from his face. He already missed your touch and your actions filled him with dread. Why did you look so serious?

"Connor, I haven't been truthful with you." Your voice was a little shaky, so you cleared it in an attempt to steady it. He reached out, taking hold of your hand. He might not know what this was about, but he didn't like how uneasy you seemed. "Remember when I told you about that special group who believes androids are changing?" He nodded. "Well, as you might have guessed, I'm a member. Eugene," you gestured to the man behind you, "is also a member."

"It's TriXx."

"Shut it!" You quickly snapped at him before turning back to Connor, "because of Eugene's… chosen profession, he often sees androids that are being abused or suppressed. Most of the time, they're domestic androids. People can report them missing but without any human evidence, they have no way to trace them, so it just becomes another police report and another citizen for Canada." You sat down next to him.

"However, sometimes he sends me a curveball," you glared at the man currently tossing a dirty vase back and forth, "androids that are owned by clubs, even seedy ones, are far easier to track. They're more expensive, so the clubs are more willing to put in the effort of finding them, or at least, persecuting the ones who stole them. So-"

The vase shatters, making you jump. Connor only held your hand tighter.

"So?"

"…So, I have to purchase them. Eugene makes them fake IDs and passports and we send them on their way. We have members in Canada that will take them in until they can find a job and another place to live."

Connor was quiet for a few moments. Is that why you bought him? To send him away?

"What if they don't want to leave?" He looked into your eyes, a silent plea behind them, begging you to let him stay.

"If not, there is a place in Detroit, hidden away from the humans. Only an android can find it. It's called 'Jericho'. Paul has the key. Speaking of which, where is he?" You looked around.

"Went ta drop off medicine to one of our associates," Eugene kicked at some of the shards, crushing a large one under his boot, "He'll be back soon. I was gonna go, but he's rather fond of the ol' lady. She even insists he calls her 'Abuela'. Makes 'im tea every time he sees her, knowin' full well he can't drink it." She sounds like a nice woman, Connor thinks to himself.

"Well, as much as I enjoy your company," your voice was positively dripping with sarcasm, "I'm not waiting three hours in this musky, old house watching you sell drugs. Tell Paul thank you for fixing Connor and loaning him some clothes." You stood up. Connor stared, unsure if he was supposed to follow you or stay here with Eugene and go to Jericho. When your hand reached down, he was relieved, taking it and following you out.

"Catch ya later, Color Wheel!" Eugene called out to you.

"Color Wheel?"

"He's been calling me that since middle school when I would show up to class covered in paint."

"I see." While Connor found that to be interesting, he was only half paying attention. His current objective was finding a way to stay with you. He doesn't want to go to either Canada or Jericho. He doesn't want to leave you.

You both climbed into the automated taxi, and he quickly determined it was the same one as before. The blood looked to have been cleaned, but a program he didn't know he had kicked in, showing the large stain that had since evaporated. His systems told him that was five hours ago, and he was still wondering in what way this could ever be useful to a sexbot. If anything, it would be considered disturbing to know how long a stain was left somewhere.

It was dark by the time they reached your home. Using the flashlight on your phone, you walked up to the front porch, Connor following close behind. You managed to unlock the door, going inside. He was perplexed when you headed for the kitchen, still using your phone as your only light source. You came back with matches, lighting the candles scattered around your living room. Testing his theory, he flicked on a light switch. Nothing happened.

"Can't get nothing past you, can I?" You laughed, "electricity is off. I'm taking care of it tomorrow. We'll just have to find a way to entertain ourselves in the meantime."

The way the golden lights reflected off your skin, creating an almost ethereal glow over your face, it captivated him. He wanted to touch you, feel if you are real. Realizing what you said, he snapped himself out of it. These "free" thoughts were becoming more intrusive than before.

"Why was the electricity turned off?" You shrugged your shoulders.

"Couldn't afford it. It's fine, though." You tried to brush it off, but he knew he must have been a contributing factor, if not the main reason.

"I'm sorry." Eyes at his lap, he fiddled with the edge of the sweater.

"Don't be. I would do it again if I had the option. Plus, it's not like its winter yet, so I can handle a few days in the dark. It's already being taken care of, so don't worry about it." Hearing that this was not even the first day did not go over his head. How long have you been sitting in the dark? How could you paint under these conditions? The sun shines through your studio for a while, but not nearly long enough for you to finish any paintings, especially as the days get shorter.

You lit the candles over the mantle and Connor's heart stopped.

Carl's painting was gone.

"Where-"

"Pawned it." you cut him off, looking at the unnaturally vacant space, "his paintings are far more valuable than mine."

"Why? Wasn't it important to you?" How could you pawn such an expensive gift?

"It was my only viable option. Besides, I'm sure Carl would approve." He still looked upset. "If you don't believe me, you can ask him yourself. I've been meaning to pay him a visit anyway." He nodded. He would like to meet him.

"When do you think that will be?" He asked. You contemplated that for a moment.

"Probably not until the day after tomorrow. I'll have to call and see if he'll be home. Tomorrow, we're gonna see if we can't find you some more clothes."

"Clothes?"

"Yeah, you're gonna need a disguise to get across the border." Connor tried his best not to wince when you said that. At least now, he had an idea of how long he has to convince you. He set a timer, but pushed it out of his vision. Watching it tick down so quickly was making him anxious.

Chance of Success: 50%

After a few moments, you spoke again.

"I'm sorry." Connor stared at you, perplexed.

"For what?"

"For not helping sooner. I wanted to, I really did, but-" Connor took hold of your cheeks, feeling as they heated up.

"It doesn't matter. You saved me, and I can't thank you enough." He smiled softly, watching the way the lights of the candle flickered in your eyes. A thought occurred to him, or rather, an urge. He was drifting closer to you, almost like a magnetic pull. He kept looking down at your lips. They look soft, and he wonders how they would feel. He was so close, mere inches away when you turn your head. He pulled back, withdrawing his hands. What was he thinking? Of course you don't want him to touch you. You were only tolerating it until he was shipped off. You stood up suddenly.

vvChance of Success: 39%

"I-I'm gonna make a sandwich. I'll be right back!" You were nervous, unable to control the volume of your voice. Quickly, you scurried off to the kitchen. Connor sank further into the couch, a sense of gloom lingering over him. Why was he always screwing things up?

"Do you need some blue blood?" You shouted from the kitchen. His levels were only at 82%, but frankly, he didn't feel like drinking.

"No, thank you."

"Alright, they're in here if you want one." He just wanted to sit here. He wants his mind to stop pointing out the obvious. That he was a dirty, used sex machine and there was no way you would want him. Even if he wasn't, he was incompatible. You were human. You would want to be with another human, someone to start a family with. 

These thoughts were so much worse after he broke the red walls. What did that even mean now? If he knew you were going to buy him, would he have been so eager to tear them down? They might have been oppressing, but at least he didn't know what 'this' felt like. A feeling akin to wanting to disappear, just, not existing anymore.

Connor was unusually quiet, and his LED flickering more yellow than blue, and you thought you saw some red mixed in. It had been half an hour since you came back with your food. You wished you had more in the ways of board games or card games, but all you had was a checkerboard and a jigsaw puzzle you bought on a whim years ago. You taught him how to play, and he quickly started kicking your ass at it, but it didn't so much as earn you a sincere smile. You moved to sit next to him, to which he didn't react.

"Hey, " you put your hand on his shoulder, prompting him to snap out of his thoughts and look at you, "You doing okay?"

"I'm alright, " he says, but his LED is still flickering. Your thumb started to stroke the junction between his shoulder and neck.

"If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine, but I'm here if you need me." There were so many things he wanted to ask you, so much he wanted to know, but he hesitated. If... If you didn't feel the same way towards him as he did you, he didn't want to know. If he didn't know, he could believe there is a chance he could sway you. 

There was something else eating at him. Something you might have an answer for.

"When I was at the club, while the owner was..." He didn't want to say it, to think about it. Your hand squeezed his shoulder, encouraging him to continue, "Something strange happened. There were all these... Red walls, instructing me to follow the owner's instructions. If I had, he would have destroyed me. I... I was scared, and... Angry. I started tearing at the walls, and they crumbled so easily. Next thing I knew, I could do whatever I wanted. I could defend myself. I could leave the club. I could go-" Find you, he thought, but he halted his ramblings before he could dig himself deeper. You took his silence as him finishing what he had to say, trailing your hand down and taking his hand. He hid the shiver that was left in its wake by slowly exhaling. You were smiling wide, as if it was the best news you had ever heard.

"You broke through your code." 

"What?" That's... That's not possible... Is it? 

"You broke through your code. It means you don't have to listen to anyone if you don't want to. They call it "deviation"." He only seemed more confused, "just see for yourself. I'm listed as your new owner, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I order you to cluck like a chicken while hopping on one leg."

A part of him wanted to do it simply because it was you who asked, but it seemed so... Ridiculous. His eyes widened when he realized he wasn't even making a move to stand, let alone impersonate a chicken. An idea even came to him, something he decided to take a chance on, just to gauge your reaction.

"Woof, " he said, smiling proudly. You laughed, shoving him playfully.

"Okay, wise guy, you get the point, " you giggled, "this is great! The last android wasn't a deviant and took two weeks to help her break her code. This will save so much time!"

His smile fell. 

vvChance of Success: 12%

"What?" Your own cheerful demeanor dropped, replaced with concern.

He looked to you, eyes begging you. He was asking too much, but he can't do this. He can't.

"Why do I have to leave?" You seemed confused, not in the sense of misunderstanding, but more like it had never occurred to you.

"Do you... Do you not want to?"

He couldn't force the simple word out. He was being selfish, and he knew it. How could he ask this of you, when you risked so much for him already? You were sitting in the dark because of him! He should have kept his mouth shut.

"You know, I actually could use some help around the house. With me painting all the time, it's gone a little neglected. I could also use a model from time to time. Would you mind sticking around, just a little while longer?"

^^Chance of Success: 89%

"Yes. Yes, of course, " he spoke softly, in shock, before pulling you against him in a hug. Your sharp yelp, followed quickly with laughter soothed him. A little longer. It was a start.

[thedreamsmith]

Strip

  @arrowsandmixtapes​  @atc74​  @alleiradayne​  @captain-s-rogers​  for #OCAppreciationDay

Warnings: Explicit smut, swearing, canon typical violence

Word count: 6272

Summary:  A succubus is killing off clients at a high-end strip club. Dean comes up with an unusual cover story to get them inside. 

Rhea idly tapped her foot against the back of the front bench of the Impala in time to the music blaring from the stereo. Sam was dozing in the front seat, lulled into unconsciousness by the scorching Kanas sun - if his snores were anything to go by.

Dean was in a rare, happy mood; humming along to the music and drumming his hands on the wheel. 

As lovely as the vintage Chevvy looked, it had to have the shittiest air conditioning that she had ever seen – though Dean would give her hell if she dared bring it up. 

Tipping her head back, Rhea resigned herself to a slow, sweaty death.She was just considering poking Sam awake for some kind of entertainment when she felt the car slow down, Dean slapping the back of his brother’s head as they parked up outside a surprisingly classy-looking building.

 ‘Are you sure this is it?’ Rhea sat up with a yawn, eyeing the gleaming windows and tidy flower planters beneath them. ‘Thought this place was supposed to be a strip joint?’ 

‘You clearly haven’t been to the right kind of strip clubs.’ Dean twisted in his seat to grin at her, the sunlight illuminating the flecks of hazel in his eyes. Rolling her eyes, she sat forward, resting her chin on the back of the front bench. 

Classy or not, this club had had four of its clientele turn up dead just hours after leaving the place and after some research, it hadn’t been difficult to work out that a succubus was masquerading as one of the dancers.

 ‘Well how are we gonna do this then? We can’t just walk in and start chanting Latin at the strippers.’ 

‘FBI?’ Sam flicked through a sheaf of fake IDs.

‘I’m not wearin’ a monkey suit in this weather.’ Dean flicked his hand at the sign taped to the inside of the club’s central window. ‘Besides, I have a better idea.’ 

Sam and Rhea squinted against the light in an attempt to make out the words.

‘Not a fucking chance.’         

                                                                   **** 

As it turned out, there had been a chance, and Rhea tried to wipe the scowl from her features as she pushed through the club’s heavy double doors with the Winchesters in tow. Once her eyes had adjusted to the change in ambience, she cast her gaze around the spacious interior, taking in the bar along one wall and the stage and runway dominating the central space. Private booths along the wall adjacent to the bar, a door that must lead backstage in the far corner. 

They were greeted by a slight man in his early forties, wearing a suit that probably cost more than she could get from hustling poker in a whole month. A diamond stud glimmered in his right ear as he rose from one of the plush velvet chairs facing the stage. Behind him, a mountain of a man eyed the three of them stonily. 

‘Hi.’ Pasting on what she hoped was a friendly smile, Rhea stopped short of who she presumed was the owner of the establishment. ‘I’ve come to audition for the job opening. My friends here are looking to start as bouncers.’ 

The man’s eyes flicked to the brothers behind her before sweeping over her in a manner that seemed more like professional appraisal than a lecherous once-over. 

‘Wonderful.’ His smile reached his eyes - so blue they almost glowed. ‘I’m Liam Hanover, the proprietor of the Blue Iris. Why don’t you speak to our DJ? He can get your song choice set up and then once you’ve performed, I can give you a tour. Mark will interview the boys while I’m showing you around.’

Fantastic. She’d at least counted on Sam and Dean being otherwise occupied while she had to do this. So instead of shooting the elder Winchester in the kneecaps like she was desperate to, Rhea grinned winningly back at Liam.

‘Sounds good.’                                                                                       

 *****

 The opening chords to the Def Leppard song she’d chosen blared from the club’s hidden sound system as she stepped onto the runway. She hadn’t been particularly creative with her music choice; ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ was a pretty stereotypical stripper song, but at least it had an easy beat to follow. 

Liam had lent her a pair of stilettos to dance in, she just prayed she wouldn’t break her ankle in them. It had been years since she’d danced, and even then it had been ballet, not pole dancing 101.

 Sam and Dean were sat with Liam and the huge bouncer at the front of the stage, drinks in hand. 

Bastards.

But even as she cursed them, she couldn’t stop the heat from pooling in her core as the elder Winchester’s gaze bored into her. The room seemed too warm and suddenly taking her clothes off didn’t seem like such a bad idea. 

With a slow breath, Rhea gripped the pole and began to dance, letting the music and Dean’s almost-burning attention lead her through the steps. She dropped and lifted with the beat, letting each roll of her hips become a seduction, each arch of her back an invitation.

 Even if she didn’t have a hope in hell with Dean, she may as well pretend while she could. Her tank top already on the stage behind her, she made a show of peeling off her denim shorts to reveal the lacy blank panties that matched her bra. There was no way that she was taking off more than that – this whole thing was bad enough – so she tried to make up for it with her body. As she parted her lips and rose from a particularly flexible move that had the insides of her thighs stinging, Rhea let herself fix her gaze on Dean. It wasn’t hard to tell what was going though his brain, but how many other women had he thought about like this? 

It was all or nothing. That’s what she told herself at least; she didn’t want to end up as just another notch on his bedpost. But what were the chances that the infamous womanizer, Dean fucking Winchester, would want her for more than a night? He’d had plenty of opportunities to make a move in the two years that they’d been hunting together. Enough nights of just the two of them playing poker and drinking the Men of Letters’ expensive liquor together. 

She sank to her knees as the final chords faded out, arching her back so that the ends of her hair pooled on the stage like fresh blood, her chest heaving from the dance and the gaze that she could still feel tracing her figure.

 Poor Sam was probably just as uncomfortable as she was – the man thought of her as a sister. His little Magpie.

Rhea got to her feet to see Liam rise from his chair, grinning from ear to ear.‘That was fantastic, darling.’ He clasped his hands together. ‘You’re a natural. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll show you around?’

 She nodded mutely as she tugged her shorts and vest top back on, suddenly unable to even look at Dean now that the show was over. Stilettos dangling from her fingers, she padded bare-foot off the stage, stepping into her converse she’d left near the hidden steps at the back of the room. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mark the Mountain gesture for the boys to follow him. Liam held the door for her, leading her down a short corridor to a brightly lit changing room lined with mirrors and vanity tables. Racks upon racks of sparkling costumes lined the back wall.

‘This is the girls’ dressing room. There’s plenty of make-up and hair products, but you’re more than welcome to use your own.’ 

Rhea let her eyes drift around the space; nothing immediately screaming ‘a demon was here!’

 Except…

‘What’s that smell?’ She wrinkled her nose slightly, for all the world looking like a potentially put-off new employee. 

‘Ah, yes, that.’ A crease appeared between the shorter man’s eyebrows. ‘We’re not quite sure where it’s coming from – the dancers started talking about a faint smell of rotten eggs about a month ago. We’ve got plumbers coming out to check the drains next week, but honestly, once everyone is in here with their perfume and whatnot, you don’t even notice it.’ 

Right when the murders started.

Since none of the dancers were actually here at the moment, she was going to have to go further with this half-baked plan. 

‘Fair enough. When can I start?’ Liam beamed, the worry melting from his face almost immediately.

‘How about a trial shift tomorrow night? If you get here about eleven, that gives you time to get your makeup and costume sorted.’ He shifted on his feet. ‘A few house rules though; twenty percent of your tips go to the house, but you won’t need to bribe anyone for perks. If any of the customers give you trouble, just alert one of the bouncers and they’ll take care of it. One of them will even walk you to your car if you need them to. 

Also, whether you sleep with any of the clientele – for financial gain or not – is your business, but just don’t get frisky on the premises – I’m not running a brothel. And if you’re not on stage, you’ll either be giving private dances or serving drinks. You got all that?’ 

Rhea blinked, taken aback at the sincerity in his voice.

‘I…uh…yeah sounds good.’ She released a breath. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way – but you seem to have a lot more…morals than the average strip club owner.’ 

Liam glanced at the floor, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

 ‘I grew up in…unfavourable circumstances and had to do some fairly distasteful things to get by. When I became the proprietor of this place, I figured that there would always be people who would need this kind of work, so I may as well create a safe place for them to do it. Besides,’ He shrugged. ‘The girls don’t exactly do it for me. My husband is a doctor, if you’d believe it. He runs a free monthly health clinic for all my employees.’ 

‘Seems fair.’ She nodded, ‘I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then?’‘See you then.’                                                               

  ***

Rhea collapsed into the backseat of the Impala with an exaggerated groan.

 ‘I hate you both.’ ‘What did I do?’ Sam’s voice climbed a few notes as he turned in his seat, a disbelieving expression on his face. 

‘You went along with it. I don’t know.’ Rhea flapped one hand non-committally, her other arm flung over her eyes. ‘I’d say I’m never doing that again, but apparently I have a trial shift tomorrow night. We’re a go for demon activity – the back rooms stink of sulphur. I’ll let you know if I get a bead on the succubus - try and get the other dancers out of the way before we start exorcizing.’ 

‘Well only Sammy got the bouncer job, so it looks like I’ll just be there to enjoy the show.’ Dean caught her gaze in the rear-view mirror and smirked.

‘I didn’t manage to find any employee records for the dancers; it seems like Liam takes his girls on as independent contractors and doesn’t keep any of their information.’ Sam tapped his long fingers on the windowsill as Dean pulled away from the curb, seemingly oblivious to the syrup-thick sexual tension that had filled the Impala as entirely as the Kanas heat. 

‘It shouldn’t be too difficult to work out which one is killing off their clients. I could always lace my perfume with holy water and spray it about; see whose sexy devil costume goes a bit deeper than the little horns and nipple tassels.’ 

‘I think Cas would have a holy heart attack if you got dressed up as an angel.’ Dean snickered. ‘Although we do know that Clarence has a thing for sexy devils.’

 ‘He’s not the only one.’  Sam muttered, earning a glare from his brother. ‘Dude, you have no leg to stand on here! I’m not the one who…’ 

Rhea tuned out the brothers’ bickering as she watched the sun-bleached storefronts pass by. As ironic as it would be, she sincerely hoped that Liam wouldn’t ask her to wear the devil costume that she’d seen hanging in the dressing room. At least, she consoled herself, it couldn’t be much worse than that.                                                                              

 *****

As it turned out, it could be much worse. Rhea stared mutely at her reflection as one of the other dancers, a lithe blonde with the stage name Rosie, applied the last of the emerald glitter to her cleavage.

 Apparently, one of the other girls was off sick and Liam had needed her to fill in for her duet with Rosie.

And because the universe and Chuck and whoever else was in control of her shitty luck, hated her with a passion, the theme was DC villainesses. 

Rosie’s blue-and-pink-dipped pigtails bounced as she looked over her handiwork. Whorls of green glitter snaked up her arms and legs, dipping into her cleavage and circling her waist, perfectly matching the bra and thong that she had been given to wear. With her (sort of) natural hair colour, she hadn’t needed the wig that the other girl usually wore, so her blood-red locks were teased and curled into the siren-perfect waves of Poison Ivy.

 When she’d arrived, she hadn’t even had time to test for demonic activity before she was bundled into the dressing room and fussed over by her partner for the night. Rosie was a sweet girl, and eager to help. Rhea had checked her off the ‘possible minion of hell’ list within five minutes. 

The dressing room was such a flurry of glitter and activity that she hadn’t managed to get a good look at most of the other girls as they went about getting ready for their shifts. Dean was going to have a field day. The man loved Batman way more than was normal for anyone, let alone a dude in his thirties. 

Despite her misgivings, Rhea flashed Rosie a genuine smile which she returned. 

‘I think we’re on in a few minutes.’ The younger girl was as much of a Georgia peach as any she’d ever met, and she’d initially found it hard to catch much what she was saying. Even after being in the States for almost a decade, she was only used to the Winchester’s relatively neutral accents. She still held onto enough of her Scottish accent to be marked as a non-native.

 Rosie’s costume had required far less effort than her own – fishnets, smudged red lipstick and a few fake tattoos turned her into Gotham’s own Harley Quinn. 

Luckily, the duet was relatively simple, with no choreographed dance to follow; just a typical bump ‘n’ grind routine with a little girl-on-girl action set to ‘Sweet but Psycho.’ 

Rhea almost jumped when the tannoy called them to the stage. Really professional. But then she was up and moving, keeping her focus on Rosie’s bouncing pigtails in front of her as she tried not to break her ankle. 

Showtime.    

 Dean’s POV

 Dean was halfway through his third Jack and coke when the DJ announced Rhea, although tonight she was going by the stage name Lisandra. She had vetoed most of Sam’s suggestions and all of his last night back at the motel, when the oppressive heat had made it almost impossible for them to get any sleep.

Not one, but two figures stepped out onto the stage as the track started up with a high-pitched scream and his jaw almost dropped as he pieced together the theme of this routine.

 Rhea’s long legs were covered in glitter – all the way up to the thong that left very little to the imagination.

 The pair were greeted with whoops and hollers from other patrons of the club and Dean took a deep swig of his drink to douse the burning in his stomach that felt uncomfortably like jealously. He had no claim on the red-headed huntress, no reason to want to snarl at the other men in the crowd that they didn’t deserve to see her half-naked and sparkling, no right to see her move like liquid silk as her hands roved over the Harley Quinn she was performing with. 

Dean swallowed thickly as he watched the women on stage, acutely aware of the way his cock was pressing against his jeans. His chest tightened as Rhea dropped low, still impossibly dexterous even in those ridiculous heels. Harley’s crimson lips traced the ivory column of her neck, hands trailing up the back of her thighs as she rose, moving like she had been made to dance like this – like her hands were calloused from gripping a metal pole and not a sawn-off shotgun.

 He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He wanted, no he needed… 

Rhea’s cornflower-blue gaze met his and he shot up from his seat like he’d been tazed. He needed to find Sam. Dean knew he’d lose his seat almost immediately – he’d staked out a spot right at the front of the stage as soon as he’d arrived.

 His brother was stood near the bar, dressed in a tight black t-shirt that had already attracted the attention of one of the waitresses. The petite brunette barely came up to his shoulder in her heels but was making a show of batting her eyelashes at a clearly-uncomfortable Sam. An almost-comical look of relief crossed his face as he spotted Dean moving towards him and he managed to extract himself from the conversation to meet him halfway.

‘Sammy, it’s Rhea. The succubus must’ve ambushed her backstage and taken her appearance.’

‘Whoa, whoa. Slow down.’ Sam gripped him by the shoulders, concern creasing his brow. ‘How do you know? Did you test her?’ 

‘No, but I could feel her hoodoo demon magic on me. Look at me, Sammy!’ His brother raised his brows as he took him in, the rising panic in his chest masking any embarrassment he should feel about standing in front of his little brother with a boner. Rhea was a capable hunter but if the succubus had gotten the drop on her… He was already fumbling for his flask of holy water when a snort from Sam made him pause. 

‘What the hell are you laughing at man? Rhea’s in danger!’ He set his jaw, getting more pissed by the second as the taller man continued to laugh.

 ‘That’s Rhea on stage, Dean. You’ve got it bad for her, dude.’ Sam managed between breaths. ‘None of the performers so far have been demons.’ 

‘I…’ He started, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he glanced back at the stage. Rhea’s performance was ending, the two women collecting their tips as they headed backstage. ‘Shut the hell up.’ Dean finally snapped, both unwilling and unable to give voice to the cocktail of emotions that was swirling around in his chest. 

Without a backwards glance at his brother, Dean stalked back to the bar for another drink. Hopefully the succubus showed her face before he got completely plastered.  

 Rhea’s POV 

The backstage air was cool against her skin as she pushed through the doors hidden behind the stage. Emerald glitter trailed in her wake she headed back to the dressing room, Rosie hot on her stiletto heels. 

They had scooped up the bills from the stage without counting, trusting enough of one another to wait until they got backstage to split the tips between them.

 It wasn’t long before they each had an even stack of bills on their dressers. She had made decent money from just one performance, maybe being a stripper wasn’t so bad after all. 

The chatter of the other girls was background noise as she bent to check that her supplies were still in her rucksack. Holy water, salt and several knives were all nestled under the clothes she had worn to the club earlier that night. 

‘I love your tattoo.’ The voice behind her was low and smooth and when she straightened up, she saw that it belonged to a dark-haired woman in a revealing police officer’s uniform. The smile on her full lips was genuine enough but it didn’t quite reach the eyes that were fixed to the anti-possession tattoo on her shoulder blade.

She hadn’t even thought to cover it up before coming to the club – she’d been more worried about accidentally flashing her tits than her ink. Shit.

Rhea didn’t have time to grab the flask of holy water before the succubus flung out a hand, sending her crashing into a rack of costumes along the opposite wall. There were screams from the other dancers as they scrambled to the exit, abandoning any pretence at solidarity as they shoved through the doorway.

Even though they were a lower class of demon, succubi still packed one hell of a punch. Though because of their lesser status and the fact that they possessed their own corporeal bodies, rather than possessing humans, exorcising them had the rather spectacular effect of burning them to ashes rather than the usual outpouring of black smoke. 

Eyeing the distance between herself and her bag, Rhea adjusted her plan and lunged for the fire alarm on the wall above her. The piercing sound immediately clanged through the building. Hopefully that would alert Sam and Dean to the situation and give the civilians a chance to get clear. 

‘Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-‘ 

She was cut off with a gasp as the demon tossed her back towards the dressing table, the mirror shattering on impact. Glittering shards scattered everywhere as she pushed herself up with a groan, reaching through the wreckage for her bag.

Her hand closed around the silver flask just as the succubus approached her, seemingly content to toy with her prey before she dispatched her. That was fine by her. 

With a flick of her wrist, she let the water arc from the flask, hitting the demon with a hiss and the stench of burning flesh. The brunette screeched, clawing at her face as she tried to rub the caustic substance out of her eyes. With an inhuman shriek, the demon took off down the corridor, clearly deciding that this was a fight she wasn’t going to win. 

‘For fuck sake.’ Rhea tugged at the straps of her heels for a second before resigning to the fact that they weren’t coming off quickly. With another muttered string of curses, she gave chase, pausing only to grab a pair of knives from her bag. She could give Crowley some new torture ideas involving impractical footwear.

 The succubus burst through the doors into the main part of the club with Rhea several paces behind and struggling to gain ground. With a grunt, she lunged forward, slashing down with her knives as she fell. The blades caught the demon in the backs of her thighs, cutting a jagged path through her hamstrings.

Blood gushed crimson from the wound, making her hands slippery as she scrambled to pin the felled demon. Her ankle twisted and she snarled, but finally managed to straddle the succubus, knees pinning her arms to the floor until she could hear bone grinding against bone. In rapid succession, Rhea landed a series of solid blows to her jaw, hard enough to draw blood. The demon only laughed, the sound obscene and crackling from the blood trickling from her mouth.

‘I smelled your desire as soon as you walked in. I could almost taste it - taste the way you lusted after-‘ 

Rhea let out a half-strangled scream as she wrapped her hands around the succubus’s slender throat before slamming her head against the floor. And then there was no longer ivory skin beneath her fingers – the demon’s glamour rippled away to reveal her true form; indigo skin and eyes like swirling galaxies, furred legs that ended in razor sharp hooves and twisting black horns. 

 ‘A little help here?’ Rhea raised her gaze to glare at the brothers who were stood over her and her prey, staring wide eyed at what had probably started as every guy’s hottest fantasy. 

Finally, they leapt into action; Sam chanting in Latin as Dean poured his flask of holy water over the writhing demon beneath her.The demon screeched, thrashing against her as her skin sizzled.

‘Wait! Wait! I can make you a deal, anything you want! It won’t even cost you your soul, just a year off the end of your life. I could make you irresistible – wanted by everyone, even-‘ 

Rhea slammed her head into the ground again and there was a sharp crack as her head snapped back and the tip of her horn broke off, skittering away under one of the empty tables.

‘Enough.’ She barely recognised her own voice; almost feral in her fury. She registered that Sam was coming to the end of the incantation and leapt up just in time to avoid being singed as the succubus burst into flames, burning so hot that her body was ashes within seconds. 

 ‘Well…’ Sam glanced from her to the smoking pile of ashes. ‘Lets never do that again.’ 

Her skin was a disgusting mess of drying blood and clumped glitter, and she wanted nothing more than a hot shower and possibly a fifth of tequila to wash away the memory of tonight. 

‘I quite enjoyed the first half of the night.’ Dean scratched the back of his head with the handle of his blade, but his trademark smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something was bothering him. ‘But I can tell you one thing – you’re not getting into Baby like that.’

 She was just about to give a rather colourful retort about where he could stick his Baby when a movement by the front doors made her turn. Liam Hanover was picking his way through the wreckage of several shattered glasses and scattered dollar bills towards the trio.

 ‘I trust you had a good reason for assaulting one of my girls and setting off the fire alarm on one of our busiest nights of the week?’ The older man’s expression showed only mild displeasure as he took in the scene that the three of them presented.

  Shit.                                                                             

 *****

It had taken some time, and several runs through the security footage, but they’d finally managed to convince Liam that he didn’t need to call the cops on them. 

He even let Rhea clean up in the showers through the back, though a good amount of glitter had refused to budge even with soap and water.

 Dean had still given her a sideways look as she’d slid into the backseat of the Impala; to which her only reply had been a vulgar gesture that heavily relied on her middle finger. 

Rhea had dozed off on the short ride back to the Bunker, head resting against the window frame as the warm night air tugged at her damp hair. When they’d arrived home, she’d quickly said her goodnights to the boys before hauling ass to her room. 

Cas and Jack had given her odd looks as she’d swept past them in the library, still trailing glitter, but she couldn’t be sure how much Dean had pieced together from the mouthy succubus and hadn’t wanted to hang around to find out. 

Sleep didn’t come easily, despite her exhaustion, but when it did it was fitful, filled with a mind-addling mix of lust and fear and moss-green eyes that glimmered like the ocean.                                                                   

******** 

The next day had brought no new cases, so Rhea had woken late and used the rare downtime to restock the kitchen and catch up on laundry. 

The bunker was quiet now, despite it only being early evening. Jack and Cas were out at a movie; the angel eager to educate his young ward on pop culture in a more traditional way than Metatron had shown him, and Sam had retreated to his room with a headache some time ago.

 Dean was seated on the armchair opposite her, a glass of whiskey in one hand the TV remote held loosely in the other. He had been flicking through channels for the last ten minutes. 

Nearly a year ago, the occupants of the bunker had collectively decided that the library needed comfier seating than the Men of Letter’s had originally intended, so there had been a mass trip to the nearest furniture store to purchase a couple of armchairs and a long, deep sofa. Dean had also insisted on buying a forty-eight-inch HD LED TV and the whole setup had been tucked into a corner of the library, surrounded on two sides by bookshelves. 

Rhea glanced up as the hunter cleared his throat, her gaze meeting his as he stared at her with an unsettling intensity. A flush crept her face as she fiddled with the pages of her book.

‘Can I help you?’ Pleased that her voice remained even, she titled her head, waiting for him to either speak or break his stare. 

‘Was just wondering where’d you gotten the tat from. Don’t think I’ve seen that one before.’ This time his gaze was accompanied by a slight smirk, his eyes drifting down to her abdomen where the silver edilith encircled her navel. ‘Kinda’ hard not to notice it in your getup last night.’

 Now it was her turn to clear her throat. ‘It’s not new, an ex-girlfriend of mine gave me it when I was nineteen. She’s a rather powerful witch - still lives up in the Scottish Highlands.’ And dammit this was the second time in as many days that her ink had gotten her into uncomfortable situations, because the next part… 

‘It’s a bastardisation of an ancient Gaelic fertility ritual. Magical contraception, essentially. Protects me from everything a condom would.’ 

‘Awesome.’ His brows rose, his smirk taking on a distinctly naughty cast. ‘She the one who taught you to dance like that?’ Her breath hitched as she processed his words, weighing the possible meanings and the innuendo, trying to determine…

  Fuck it. If that wasn’t an invitation… 

She closed her book with a snap before rolling to her feet, never once letting her gaze drop from his, not giving her mind any room for doubt. Never mind that she was only wearing a ratty old t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Never mind that she was far more sober than she’d ever imagined herself to be while actually attempting this. 

‘No, she wasn’t.’ She padded across the space between them, using her foot to nudge his knees further apart. She dropped her voice as she leaned down, hands on the armrests, caging him in. ‘You see, Dean, that I’ve learned to watch people in this life; learned what makes them tick. And I’ve learned who they remember. They remember the woman who made every roll of her hips an invitation, every movement a seduction.’ 

Dean’s face had gone slack, and she could see the dark lust in his eyes warring with his doubts. It felt good to not be the one second-guessing for once.

 ‘And just who were you seducing?’ His voice was hoarse and almost breathy as his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. ‘Mark the bouncer?’ He raised his jaw slightly. ‘Sammy?’ 

‘Am I in Sam’s room right now?’ Rhea let her eyes flutter as Dean reached out to cup the backs of her thighs, his fingers feather-light as they trailed up towards her ass. ‘But this is all or nothing, Dean. I won’t just be another notch in your belt.’ Her breath was coming faster now, but she tried to keep her voice even, tried to keep that resolve even as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. 

‘Sweetheart, you’ve been driving me crazy for months.’ The green-eyed hunter surged up, catching her mouth with his as he tightened his grip on her ass. His breath was hot against her lips as he drew back enough to meet her gaze; crushing blue to blazing emerald. ‘I don’t think I could let you go after just one night, even if I wanted to.’ 

Rhea released her grip on the chair to thread her hands through his tousled hair, finding the longer strands at the back that were just enough to get a good grip and pull. The groan that escaped him was guttural, reverberating through her chest and sending waves of heat straight to her core. His fingers hooked in the waistband of her boxers, and he released her mouth to press butterfly kisses down her body, following the path of her underwear as he dragged them over her hips and off until they were puddled on the floor around her ankles.

Rhea moaned quietly, dragging her t-shirt up and off as Dean lifted one knee over his shoulder, dipping his head to trail his lips up the inside of her thigh. 

‘So wet already…’ His voice was an exquisite agony as his breath brushed against the apex of her thighs. With a low snarl, she gripped his hair tighter, almost pushing his face closer to where she needed him. With a dark chuckle at her urgency, he began to feast on her; his lips closing around her clit, alternating between sucking and circling the sensitive bud with his tongue in a way that had her seeing stars within minutes.

 Her legs trembled and Dean tightened his grip on her thigh where it was pressed against the side of his head. Meanwhile, he trailed his other hand up, up, up her leg until he was pressing against her soaked folds, matching the rhythm of his tongue with the steady thrust of his fingers. 

‘Fuck…Dean.’ She was moaning in earnest now, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stop from alerting the rest of the bunker. Cas and Jack could come back at any time… ‘God I’m close…’

 And damn him she could feel that cocky smirk against her as he increased his pace. Faster and faster until – Her legs shook and locked as her release barrelled through her, the man kneeling before her the only thing keeping her upright as she came down from the high. 

‘Fuck – that was…’ Rhea licked her lips as she glanced down at Dean, his own mouth swollen and glistening as he tilted his head back to meet her gaze.

‘Oh, we’re not done yet, darlin’.’ She barely had time to unhook her leg from his should before he was surging up, wrapping his arms under her thighs to grip her ass as he backed her towards the nearest bookshelf; hard enough to knock several of the no-doubt ancient volumes to the floor. 

And she met his passion blow-for-blow, her hands frantic as she ripped his t-shirt up and over his head, tightening her legs around his waist to let him undo his belt and slide his jeans down far enough to free his cock. 

He was hot and heavy against her, far bigger than she’d had in a long time. Dean didn’t waste any time as he pressed against her, the head of his cock stretching her out as he rolled his hips into her, letting her adjust to the size until he bottomed out. In the low light of the lamps, he was impossibly beautiful – all lean muscle and freckled skin criss-crossed by silvery scars from countless past fights.

 He kept the pace slow, pulling out almost completely before pressing back into her. She buried her face into his neck, trailing her lips along the tanned skin before biting down hard enough to make his hips jerk, rattling the shelf behind her. Rhea chuckled throatily at Dean’s frustrated growl, sucking a mark onto his neck. She was done being subtle and this was her claim.

 ‘Fuck me like you mean it, Winchester.’ Her voice was a purr in his ear, and he took her suggestion wholeheartedly. The bookshelf shook with each roll of his hips and she knew that she’d have a series of very odd bruises in the morning, but it was worth it for the way that Dean trembled as he tightened his arms around her, a jumble of words falling from lips as his rhythm began to falter.

 ‘I love you, I love you Iloveyouiloveyou.’ He squeezed his eyes closed as he fell over the edge, still and shuddering as he spilled inside her.

 It was a while before he moved again; almost reverent as he slowly guided her back to her feet, still leaning against the shelf for support. 

‘I love you too, even if you are a pain in my ass.’ Rhea smiled, dipping her head before glancing up at him from beneath her lashes, watching the lust in his eyes give way to something far softer than she’d ever seen in his expression. 

‘If you wanted me to be a real pain in your ass, you only had to ask, sweetheart.’ 

But there was no heat behind the innuendo – only tenderness as he dipped his head to press a chaste kiss to her mouth, lingering sweetly. 

‘We should get cleaned up before Cas gets home.’ 

‘What? Do you not want to invite the pizzaman to the party?’ 

Rhea shook her head as she moved past Dean to locate her clothes.

 ‘You’re unbelievable.’ 

‘I’m going to take that as a comment on my performance back there.’ 

She tipped her head back, a thoughtful expression on her face.

‘Accurate.’