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robinsegghead · 4 months ago

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Danny's Daycare Part 7

[Master List]

“This ain’t some weird trick, right?” Miguel asked for the fifth time since Danny had showed them their new place. Both boys had been shocked into silence upon entering the space, eventually following Danny around to see their rooms and bathroom.

Shaking his head, Danny swallowed his bite of pizza. “I bought the building with the intention of giving the apartments to people who needed them. You guys need a safe place to stay.”

Miguel eyed him warily, glancing at Jazz who’d been mostly quiet since they’d arrived, knowing they were overwhelmed. “We can’t stay here without pullin’ our weight. Wha’s rent like?”

Danny hummed, considering. Jazz looked at him in shock, thinking he was actually planning on charging the boys rent. Finally, Danny wiped his hands of the pizza grease, folded them on the table, and looked at both boys seriously. “Here’s the deal I’m proposing. You two live here until you’re at least eighteen AND,” He emphasized the word, so they knew he was serious. “have graduated from high school. That’s it. That’s the rent. You’ll be paying me back by getting an education.”

“But tha’s ridiculous!” Santiago shouted, clearly torn between confusion and hope. “Nobody gives nothin’ out for free! It just ain’t done!”

Sitting back, Danny contemplated what he’d need to say to help them understand his intentions. Jazz met his gaze and gave him a subtle nod, knowing what he was thinking about doing. “My parents,” Danny started. Jazz stood up, clearing away trash and dishes as he told a story neither wanted to relive. “didn’t pay me or my sister much attention.”

That was a safe start right? He didn’t need to explain the whole ghost thing or that they tortured him, just a bit of background. “They forgot my seventh birthday, too caught up in work to be bothered and after that it wasn’t occasional forgetfulness. Most days they didn’t know where I was, what I was up to, how I was doing in school, who my friends were, because they were too busy to care.

“That put a lot of responsibility on my shoulders and even more on my sister’s. She basically raised me.” He dipped his head in her direction as she put away the leftovers. “In my freshman year my grades began to suffer, and I struggled with really bad anxiety, but I didn’t have parents to help me with that, because they didn’t really know me as a person.”

Taking in a deep breath, Miguel looked between the Nightingales. “What’s that gotta do with us, though?”

“My sister, who spent her entire childhood taking care of everyone but herself,” He added with a smirk. “likes to remind me that I can’t help everyone, as much as I might try. But,” the two boys were watching him closely, absorbing his every word. “I can help some people. And I can help you. Don’t tell Jazz but I’m always trying to be more like her. And I think, if she had the resources I do, that she’d help you guys out.

“Let me help a couple of siblings who don’t have parents looking out for them.” Danny pleaded. “Please.”

Miguel and Santiago had a silent conversation, the air hung heavy in the room as they seemed to come to a decision. “A’ight man, you seem chill.” Miguel shrugged, the rest of the tension leaving his body.

It didn’t take long after that for the boys to start showing how tired they were. Jazz grabbed her stuff and headed out with a ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, brother’ thrown over her shoulder. Danny reminded the boys that he was across the hall and one door down and that if there was an emergency they could use their emergency key to get into his place. They’d seemed surprised by that, but Danny reminded them that he was, essentially, their guardian now, and he was there if they needed him.

“Tomorrow I’ll come by around ten and we can go get you guys some school supplies and anything else you want or need, yeah?” Danny asked, moving towards the door.

Miguel was pushing Santiago towards his room like a good older brother. “Sure, sounds good.”

For the first time in a while, Danny got a full night of sleep. This was the shocking realization he came to when he awoke to his alarm and felt rested. The first thing he did was search his fridge for food- he was starving- and remembered Red Hood’s little gifts. The chicken parm had been pretty good, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home cooked meal, even if he did have to reheat it.

Sticking the stew in a pot, Danny began the process of reheating another Red Hood MealTM and planned out the day mentally. They’d need to get some basic school supplies to start working on tutoring, they’d get more specific items when school actually started, but for now, calculators, notebooks, pens, pencils, and some workbooks would be fine.

After that they’d need to get the boys each a phone and at least one computer for them to share. It would be necessary for school anyways, hopefully he could convince them to just let him buy them each a laptop but that might be difficult.

Although it was Saturday, and he planned on Saturdays being tutoring days, Danny didn’t plan on working on any school stuff once they got home. They would certainly be overwhelmed by everything else going on and didn’t need one more thing to add to it. Plus, Danny needed to figure out exactly how to teach these kids everything they needed to know.

Had they ever gone to school? If so, what level had they gotten to? What were their learning styles? Who would he bring in to teach the subjects he sucked at? Like English- Danny was bad at the arts. English, Social sciences, even history, he wasn’t very good at.

Shaking his head, he dished out the stew and tried not to get caught up on the details. He was winging it, and maybe that was a bad thing when it came to kids, but it was better than what they’d had going on before, so he wouldn’t be too hard on himself.

(Who was he kidding? Danny was only ever hard on himself, and he only ever piled the work on until he was buried under an avalanche of paperwork and drama.)

The boy seemed almost surprised when he knocked on their door at ten AM sharp.

“You have a key, y’know.” Santiago muttered, closing the door behind Danny.

Danny frowned. “This is your home, Santiago. I’m not using my key unless there’s an emergency.” He offered a smile to Santiago’s contemplative face, before clapping his hands together. “All right, where’s that brother of yours?”

The younger boy frowned. “He wasn’t feeling too good.” Right. Because stab wounds don’t heal quickly, not for normal people- Danny you can’t just forget things like that! “Said we should go without ‘im.”

“Well that won’t do.” Danny sighed. “We need to get those supplies, but I don’t want to go without Miguel, do you?” Santiago shook his head hesitantly. “Then it’s settled. We will simply order everything we need and when Miguel’s feeling better we can go out. Have you eaten yet?”

Santiago shrugs, not meeting Danny’s eyes. So that’s a no. Without another word, Danny begins searching the fridge and cupboards for what he needed. He wasn’t much of a cook, there was a reason he hadn’t had a homemade meal in a long time, but he could do pancakes, and he knew he’d bought the ingredients for it too.

The younger boy just watched, silently, as Danny began measuring out flour.

“So,” Danny started, immediately regretting it and feeling just as awkward as he was in high school. “I did my best to get you guys the necessities. I don’t want to overwhelm you, but when I say that you can ask for anything, I mean anything.” He emphasized his words by looking Santiago directly in the eye until the boy looked away. “If you want a TV, tools for a hobby, books, literally anything, you just have to ask.”

The boy licked his lips, still not making eye contact but at least he nodded. They’d work on it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?

Danny tried again. “What do you do for fun, Santiago?”

The boy shrugged again, leaning against the counter and watching Danny closely.

“So you… want to help me?” He asked, hesitantly, maybe he was reading the boy wrong. But before he could rescind the offer or change the subject, the boy nodded slowly, moving closer to Danny. “Okay, first things first, you gotta wash your hands.”

The morning was filled with the smell of fresh pancakes and the quiet conversation between Danny and Santiago. At one point Miguel ventured out of his room and Danny gave him a stack of pancakes, drawing him into the conversation. Early afternoon Miguel moved from the living room back to his room to take a nap but not before Danny could change his bandages. There was something incredibly domestic about it. Danny didn’t think too hard about it.

He let Santiago help him pick out some school supplies online as well as a phone case and anything else that caught his eye- including a TV which Santiago assured him he ‘didn’t need especially because it had been three years since he’d seen a movie so what was even the point?’ which Danny thought was code for ‘a television is an absolute necessity’.

He bought the TV.

~~~

The rest of the weekend was spent making sure the boys felt comfortable and Miguel was healing well. He made an appointment with Dr. Thompkins for the following Saturday to check up on the boy and maybe get his stitches out depending on how everything was looking- Danny wasn’t a great judge of such things on humans anymore.

He’d pushed his own organs back inside himself, held his chest closed, snapped bones back into place-

Humans were fragile.

He was somewhat grateful he wasn’t that fragile anymore- though he was sporting a rather purple bruise under his left eye from yet another power nap. (He’d thought those were gone after his restful Friday night but apparently not.) It was fine, the bruise would be gone within a day or so and he’d be more careful to take his power naps on sleeping surfaces instead of while standing.

Miguel had insisted they’d be fine; that Danny didn’t need to take another day off of work to watch over them, and Danny (who’d promised not to act like their parent) had agreed. Still, he left a clone in his apartment to be there in case of an emergency.

Anxiety was a feeling Danny was familiar with, after much introspection in his adult life he’d come to the conclusion that he’d had anxiety since he was seven, but anxiety relating to children he was responsible for on this level was new, and terrifying. Of course he’d felt responsible for all of the people in Amity Park, and all of the ghosts he came across, but never had he been so completely responsible for the safety of two children who had no one else to depend on.

How he got into this situation escaped him. He’d never cared much for kids- Jazz said him not wanting kids was because he’d never been allowed to be a kid in the first place- and yet, here he was, with a daycare, four cats, and now two teenagers dependent on him.

Ancients help him…

When he got to the daycare there were already two families waiting outside to drop their kids off- should he open earlier? Quickly, he unlocked the doors, turned the power on, and signed the kids in for the day. He had a couple of hours before Mia showed up (and Ember had already told him she wouldn’t be coming in for a few days) so he cloned himself to entertain Clara, Maru, and Benji while he looked over paperwork.

It never ended.

There was a steady increase in kids, Danny had to get rid of his clone every time someone new showed up and then reclone himself after they left, and by the time Mia arrived he was managing fourteen kids by himself. Sort of. Obviously, with clones, he was fine albeit a little tired, but once Mia showed up it was just the two of them.

Nap time couldn’t come soon enough.

“They’re all out cold.” Mia whispered, closing the door to the nap room. “You look like you also need a nap.”

He dropped an armful of toys into the toy bin and sighed. “A nap sounds good but I can’t. I need to finally finish setting up the website for this place so we can hopefully start getting applications online.” He paused, feeling Mia’s concerned gaze on his back. “I want to extend the hours of this place.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Two families were waiting at the door this morning because we didn't open early enough for their needs.” He rubbed a tired hand across his brow and leaned against the nearest desk. “So… I need to hire some more people to maintain not only the hours we already have that are abysmally understaffed, but to open earlier. I haven’t been able to accept any new families recently either, we just can’t safely take care of anymore kids without more staff.”

Mia pursed her lips. “School’s just about out. I’ll be graduating and looking to work a bit more. I was going to bring it up anyways, but I’d like to work full time.”

He nodded, pulling out his phone to order food. “I can do that. You want to work earlier or later? And what do you want for lunch?”

“Earlier is better, Mama and I switch off cooking dinner so I don’t want to be home too late. What are you thinking? Thai kind of sounds good.” Mia took her usual spot in a bean bag towards the entrance of the room and pulled out the monitor set up to watch the kids.

Before Danny could respond, the bell rang. He and Mia shared looks, no one ever showed up in the middle of the day- not unless it was a last minute emergency. Mia made to move but Danny shook his head, and set his phone down. Someone needed to watch the kids while he saw who had shown up so late.

What he’d expected was a frazzled parent with a child, hoping to leave them here for a few hours because their babysitter had fallen through or they got called into work or some other reason most parents had.

What he did not expect to see was the very tall, very well built, Red Hood, holding a tupperware container. Before he could get a word out- which he wasn’t sure wouldn’t have simply been some kind of ‘wha?’ Red Hood tilted his head.

“Do you not eat or something?”

“Huh?”

Hood offered the food container. “Cause I’ve left you food a few times now and every time the old stuff is still there. If you think it’s poisoned I can take a bite first to prove it’s not.”

Danny’s jaw hung open, face screwed up in confusion, not really knowing what he was supposed to say. “Uh… I’ve been busy…” He took the container trying to ignore the stupid flutter in his stomach when their fingers brushed and noted how warm it was. “I had the chicken parmesan the other day and… uh the stew as well. They were really good- why are you leaving me food?”

The vigilante shrugged, hands on hips (which Danny tried very hard not to look at). “Think of it as a thank you for-” He glanced at the closed door. “What you did when we met. If you told people it was you I wouldn’t be the only person thanking you.”

Shaking his head, Danny set the container down. “You- YOU are thanking me for kill-” He looked at the door again. “For what happened?”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

Why’d he say it like that? Why’d he say it like that? “You- I-” Danny shut his mouth before he could accidentally reveal he’s the King of the Infinite Realms and that he had always wanted to meet the Red Hood to thank HIM. “No reason. Uh… well, you don’t have to do that, you know, if you don’t want to. I mean- it’s really good though! I appreciate it!”

A thought occurred to him. “How did you know I worked here?”

It was difficult to tell exactly what expression Hood was making sometimes, but he was pretty sure the bastard was smirking as he turned away and pushed the door open, pausing in the entrance. “It’s my job to find people of interest- and you are certainly a person of interest.”

Danny might have died again just a little bit.

~~~

Miguel POV

It had been a week since he and Santi had moved into the apartment Danny had provided for them. A week since he’d been stabbed. Doc Thompkins had said he was healing well at the check up he’d had the night prior and he felt like he was. The first few days had been… frustrating. He’d moved into an entirely new place and instead of being able to assess the situation, search for threats, create escape plans, he’d been stuck in bed, eating homemade pancakes and taking washcloth baths.

Danny was… strange. He came over at least once a day, usually after work because he left so early in the mornings, and cooked a meal. Again, usually dinner because he came over in the evenings, but twice he’d come over, cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and then cooked a meal for breakfast the following day before cleaning the kitchen again.

He asked about their days, what they needed, what they wanted, and didn’t act like their dad. It was refreshing and surprising but not once did Danny scold them, lay down ground rules, or try to tell them what to do. He acted like a friend.

Miguel hadn’t had a friend in a long time.

So on Friday night when Danny came over to make dinner and asked if Miguel felt well enough to go shopping the following day, he’d agreed. Well, he’d argued a bit- they didn’t need anything else Danny had given them more than he’d ever be able to repay! But the man was insistent that they needed more clothes and he wanted them to pick them out so he knew they actually liked them.

That’s how he found himself in a clothing store in the diamond district feeling wildly out of place trying on dozens of items of clothing.

“How about this one?” Danny held a shirt up to Santiago who examined it closely, felt it between his fingers, grimaced, and shook his head cautiously. “Got it, no polyester.” Danny put it back and moved on.

Miguel caught the incredulous look Santi sent his way and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Their father had been an angry man, one who didn’t take no for an answer and thought Santiago was trying to be difficult when he ‘acted special’. To say Miguel and Santiago were surprised that Danny accepted the no and moved on without any hint of anger was an understatement.

Danny held up a different shirt. “This one’s one hundred percent cotton.” Santi reached out carefully, felt the fabric, and nodded, a shy smile forcing its way onto his face. His brother pretended to be tough because that’s what the streets demanded from all who lived on them, but he’d always been a softy with a big brain and a bigger heart. If Miguel had been hesitant to accept Danny’s offer about school it had dissipated the second he thought of what it would mean for his brother’s future.

“I hope you’re finding some things for yourself, Miguel.” Danny teased.

Scoffing, Miguel held up the three shirts and two sweaters he’d picked out. “I know how to shop for clothes, Danny.”

Danny looked Miguel’s way with a retort clearly on the tip of his tongue, but his eyes were pulled away from Miguel and locked on someone else. “Damian?” He called, waving to someone a few aisles away.

Following the direction of Danny’s eyes, Miguel saw a boy about his age standing across the store. He wore a serious expression, not quite a scowl but close, and said something to the man next to him who was much older than the person Miguel thought was Damian. The pair made their way closer much to the boy’s disapproval.

Danny set down the clothes he’d been showing Santiago, and moved out of the aisles to greet Damian. “I thought that was you! Nice to see you again. I was actually going to let you know that Curiosity’s finished his meds and has made a full recovery!”

Ah. Danny had shown Miguel and Santiago his cats earlier in the week and mentioned that someone had been giving him advice on how to take care of them, especially the sick one. So this kid had been the one helping Danny?

“I’m glad I was able to be of assistance. The cats seem to be in good hands.” The boy dipped his head.

The older man gasped. “Why Dami- that was almost a compliment!” By the sound of his teasing, they were brothers. “I don’t know how you did it, but I think Damian might actually like you. My name’s Dick, by the way, pleasure to meet you.”

“On purpose?!”

The group turned to Santiago who was still watching the entire encounter from where he’d been looking at shirts. His brother’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said and that he’d practically insulted a complete stranger based on their name. Luckily, Dick offered a smile and Danny laughed.

“Yes, on purpose.”

Danny held out his hand which Dick shook. “Danny Nightingale, Damian’s told me about you, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “You told your friend about me?”

“Tt. Relax Grayson, I simply mentioned you in passing. I didn’t think Nightingale would latch onto such information.”

Miguel exhaled quickly, suppressing a chuckle, but it was too late, he’d been noticed.

“Oh right! This is Miguel and Santiago.” Danny pointed at each of them and smiled. Miguel wished this encounter would be over. He didn’t enjoy meeting new people, it made his skin itch and his mouth dry out. As much as he disliked shopping for clothes and Danny spending way too much money on him, he disliked meeting new people even more. Danny seemed to sense this and did his best to finish things up. “We were just finishing up some clothes shopping before working on some stuff at home.”

Damian, sensing the dismissal, nodded once. “It was nice to see you again, Nightingale, do message me if you have any more animal related questions.” He grabbed Dick’s arm and began pulling him away, Dick grumbling about wanting to get to know Danny more as they left and Miguel released a sigh.

“Sorry guys.” Danny apologized. “Let’s finish up and get food on the way home, yeah?”

~~~

When they got home Miguel and Santiago put their bags in their rooms and joined Danny in the kitchen. He looked… exhausted. To be fair, they all did, but Danny hadn’t been homeless or recently stabbed (as far as Miguel was aware) so he didn’t really have a great excuse. Before he could say anything, Danny clapped his hands together.

“So I’m thinking while we eat lunch we can touch on some school stuff just for a bit, and then we can all relax.” Santiago straightened up a bit, some of the exhaustion disappearing from his face and Miguel couldn’t help but smile. As the boys grabbed their boxes of takeout Danny grabbed them drinks. He’d already learned that Miguel liked coke and Santiago liked grape juice and had continued to supply them both with it.

“I don’ know how you’re gonna catch us up on three years of schoolin’.” Miguel said honestly, Santiago’s shoulders drooped slightly.

Danny took a bite of his food and considered what Miguel said. That was something about him Miguel liked a lot. He always seemed to think before speaking- at least, when it was something important.

“Well I’m really good at math and science so I should be able to figure out a good way to catch you guys up, it’s the arts we have to worry about. English, history, that kind of thing. Now, tests suck, I know.” He took a sip of his coffee- he drank way too much of that stuff. “But I want you each to take a few placement tests so I can understand where you’re going to be starting. Then I’ll put together a plan to get you back to the levels you would be at before the entrance exams at Gotham Academy.”

Miguel groaned. “Man tests suck.”

“I know.” Danny assured. “But these aren’t graded. I don’t care how well you do, I want to know what you don’t know so I can help you learn it. This is a judgment free zone- always.” He looked at the two seriously, Miguel’s skin itched. “I’ll just have you take two today, how's that? And you can do the other two tomorrow while I plan around the ones you take today?”

That seemed fair. He thought it seemed fair. While taking the placement tests he wasn’t so sure anymore. His brain hurt almost immediately and he wondered why he was really doing this. He wasn’t going to pass high school, he’d never been very smart and when Danny realized he wasn’t smart enough to get a good job he’d just be back on the streets again.

His brother let out a happy sound as he solved one of the science problems and moved onto the next one.

Taking a deep breath, Miguel remembered why he was doing this. Just because he’d fail out and end up back on the streets didn’t mean his brother had to. His brother was smart, smarter than him, and he’d be damned if he held Santi back from getting into Gotham University someday.

He could do this. For Santi, he thought he could do anything.

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#fanfiction #danny phantom #danny phantom/jason todd #danny's daycare #dp x dc #dead on main #dick grayson #damian wayne

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tonightillbeonthathill · 1 year ago

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Bruce Springsteen: No, it ain’t gonna save you; you gotta save yourself. And you’re gonna need a lotta help

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Bruce Springsteen, Something In The Night (Leeds, July 24, 2013)

"Darkness on the Edge of Town is a cycle of songs that continually turns back upon itself in obsessive pursuit of Big Secrets. But the record’s themes might be understood even without lyrics. The sound is pounding and relentless; the guitar screams, the organ howls, the vocals roar, the drums crash. The music lets up only grudgingly, and then not for long. All of it points toward something—not the darkness per sey but what might be concealed there, discoverable only by those with immense vision and will.

You could say that this music is about survival, but not the easy kind that pop musicians and consciousness cults like to talk about. This sort of survival isn’t about being “happy” or having “fun,” or resolving the dilemmas of being sensually satiated. In this context, that kind of “survival”—in which demons are neither conquered nor conquering, but simply ignored—is far more meaningless than death itself could ever be. For Springsteen, survival is a matter of facing up to everything that saps psychic and physical strength; it means taking life on its own terms, and never giving in. “When Bruce Springsteen sings on his new album, that’s not about ‘fun,’’ said Pete Townshend, “that’s fucking triumph, man.”

The price for living to the hilt is paid in the currency of eternal vigilance. It costs something to beat back the slack moments and refuse the petty terrors of the everyday. “I wanna go out tonight,” Springsteen sings on “Badlands,” the song that opens the record. “I want to find out what I got.”

At the end of the album, a man stands alone at the bottom of a hill. He has never had much in a material way; by now, he has been stripped of what little he once possessed. Around him is little but wreckage and the temptation to join it. And in the face of this, this man raises his chin and sings:

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'Tonight I’ll be on that hill, cause I can’t stop I’ll be on that hill with everything I got I’ll be there on time and I’ll pay the cost Of wanting things that can only be found In the darkness on the edge of town'

The singing now becomes a wordless moan, symbolic not of pain but of effort, the labor of a man trying to raise himself above his circumstances. There is not a hint of defeat. And the music continues, as we watch this man climb his hill, until he simply fades away, leaving us to wonder what’s at the top, desperate to know, convinced that it’s all been worth it."

Dave Marsh

Video: Darkness On the Edge of Town (Live at The Paramount Theatre 2009)

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Video: Racing in the Street

'For all the shut down strangers and hot rod angels rumbling through this promised land.'

Dave Marsh: "There’s love in those words.

'Darkness on the Edge of Town' is an album about such people. It’s not an accident that the end of 'Racing in the Street,' where Danny Federici’s organ blends with Roy Bittan’s piano in a fuguelike cry, is the warmest, most affectionate moment on this stark album."

“The characters ain’t kids,” Bruce Springsteen once told Tony Parsons of New Musical Express, “they’re older—you been beat, you been hurt. But there’s still hope, there’s always hope. They throw dirt on you all your life, and some people get buried so deep in the dirt that they’ll never get out. The album’s about people who will never admit that they’re buried that deep.”

"When Springsteen reaches the final lines, promising that tonight his baby and he will “ride to the sea and wash these sins off our hands,” some shrug and walk away at this crazy guy’s inflated notion of the importance of trash. Others stick around and hear something a lot better: a promise that if you let the little things add up, they count for more than all the monuments in the world."

Bruce Springsteen: “So that was the night that we left. Just packed up our bags. We still don’t know where we’re goin’ yet, but I guess that’ll come in time. As for this place, well, there’s a lot here that we’ll always remember. But sometimes it seems like time gets runnin’ so short on ya that it’s gonna run out. And so much gets lost and left behind that there’s not much that you can do but to keep searchin’ and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’…”

Bruce Springsteen & Dave Marsh: “Nebraska” and “Johnny 99” are songs about people who cannot hear those voices, the consequence of which is a death sentence. But “Reason to Believe” is something worse: a requiem for those who have heard the voices, pursued them to the end, and then discovered that they were lying. It’s about the greatest menace that lurks in the darkness on the edge of town, about the compulsion to leap into the river and be swept downstream, about the temptation to run and keep on running, not toward freedom but away from the facts. Springsteen defines the song precisely: “That was the bottom.” “But at the end of Nebraska—it’s kind of ironic—I wrote another song with the word born in it, which is really weird,” Springsteen observed. “And from that point on, the answer to ‘Reason to Believe’ was ‘Born in the U.S.A.’—I guess either record, but particularly the live version. That’s the answer to it. That’s the only answer that I can perceive. And that connects back to ‘Badlands,’ you know. And that was the moment that I felt I’d gotten things in a little healthier perspective, and that I stopped—I didn’t stop using my job; I stopped abusing my job, which I felt part of me had been doing. In the end, I just understood a lot more about what it takes to get by. “No, it ain’t gonna save you; you gotta save yourself. And you’re gonna need a lotta help.”

Dave Marsh: "Bruce Springsteen: Two Hearts, the Story" (Ebook available online)

#songwriting #bruce springsteen #springsteen #music #rock #hope #faith #survival #darkness on the edge of town #something in the night #racing in the street #Youtube #singer #save me

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iwillbeinmynest · 5 years ago

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Hold On Loosely - Biker!Steve x Reader(f) Chapter 13

Authors Notes: If you’d like to be tagged please send me an ask. I keep better track of tags that way.

Word Count: 2k

Special Thanks: Here’s to @itsanerdlife for fueling my Biker obsession and being my Beta for this whole thing. To my girl over at @girl-next-door-writes who also beta’ed for me. And an extra shout out to @bettercallsabs for this beautiful graphic. She is amazing and y’all need to check her out!!

Notes/Warnings: (My notes and warnings are for the story as a whole. Some notes and Warnings will not apply to every chapter.) smoking (I do not support smoking. keep your lungs clean y’all.) drinking, (be of age, don’t be stupid) minor violence, backstabbing, attempted murder, anxiety, stress, mentions of death, car accident, trauma, …I think that’s it. let me know if I’ve missed something.

Master List

After the prospects arrived, Steve drilled them about various security duties. Three boys, no older than twenty-three, were stationed on the front porch and driveway and two more inside. The men inside with Y/N were older. One of them, Frank, looked as tough as nails and the other, Pietro, was younger but had a fire in his eyes that gave Y/N an odd sense of security. Who was she kidding, they all did. There was no denying the respect and loyalty they all had for Steve and she knew she was in good hands.

Y/N kissed Steve good-bye and was almost relieved when he finally rode off. "At least, now, he won't be pacing trails in my carpet." She tried to smile at Frank as he escorted her back inside.

"He isn't really the sit till type, Ma'am." He smirked.

"No, he isn't." She needed to work before she thought too much about what he'd gone out to do. "You boys want some sweet tea or anything?"

Pietro shook his head with a smile.

"No, Ma'am. Don't worry over us. You do whatever you want to. We'll be here if you need us." Frank nodded.

Y/N gave them a smile and headed to her office.

She kept busy in her office for hours and her work did exactly what she needed it to. She was perfectly distracted, until her stomach rumbled. She looked up at the clock and saw that it was nearly eleven p.m.

"No wonder." She mumbled to herself. It explained why her eyes seemed to be crossing a little.

She went down the hall towards the kitchen. She saw Pietro watching t.v. while Frank's attention was drawn to the window as he peered through the blinds. Y/N ignored them and began to make enough pasta for all the prospects and herself. Bum arm or not, cooking was relaxing and she could use some of that.

She didn't get farther than putting the water on the stove when a shuffling of feet caught her attention.

She looked into the living room to see both Frank and Pietro at the door. Frank was already halfway out and Pietro looked back at Y/N. He held a hand up, signaling her to stay put.

Y/N didn't really know them from Adam but she obeyed for Steve's sake. Then, she heard a familiar voice.

"And just who do you think you are?!" The attitude was as thick as her slightly northern accent. Y/N new that voice anywhere and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't matter who I am, this ain't a good time, Miss." Frank tried to be polite but even Y/N could hear him about to lose his temper.

"Y/N is my friend and now is as good a time as any!" Mandie argued.

Y/N pushed past Pietro and put a hand on Frank's shoulder to catch his attention. "Mandie, what are you doing here so late?"

"Well, I- Y/N! What happened to you?!" Mandie finally got a look at her face and was shocked to see her so beat up.

Y/N bit her lip and reached out for Mandie's hand, tugging her in. She looked at Frank, who looked like he was about to physically remove Mandie from the property. "She can come in, it's fine."

"Steve said no visitors." He countered, his brows full of conflict. He wanted to follow what Steve said but Y/N was Steve's girl.

"If he has a problem, he can talk to me about it later." She reassured him. "Come on, Mandie. I was just about to make dinner."

Mandie sat at the island bar while Y/N cooked and told her all about the accident she'd been in that morning.

"Gracious, Y/N." Mandie shook her head when Y/N finished. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

Y/N waved it off. "I'll be fine if I don't think about it. You sure you're not hungry? I made enough for a biker gang." She joked.

"Really, I'm fine. Speaking of bikers, how long are all these men staying here? This is a southern town and people will talk, ya know."

Y/N was a little put off by what Mandie was implying. "I'm not sleeping with them and really it's no ones business who I invite over. And furthermore, people talking is kind of the point."

Mandie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The accident wasn't an accident. Someone planned it. That's why all these bikers are here watching over the house."

"How long will they be here?"

Y/N shrugged. "As long as they're needed probably."

"I'm so sorry." Mandie hung her head for a moment before looking up at Y/N with regretful eyes.

"For what?" Y/N didn't know where this sudden turn in Mandie's emotions came from.

"If I hadn't taken you to that biker bar, none of this would have happened. Your life could have gone on as usual and now look at you. Stuck in this house like a hostage by a bunch of dirty bikers." Mandie practically spit the last words out of her mouth like they were poison.

Y/N frowned and inhaled to defend them when the front door opened and she recognized the distinct gait of heavy boots.

Steve walked into the kitchen and was surprised to see Mandie at the island. "What are you doing here?" He asked her impulsively.

"I was coming to find out why my best friend hadn't been talking to me only to discover she’s been beaten up by your friends." She grumbled.

"Mandie, stop." Y/N leaned back, subconsciously distancing herself from Mandie. "Not all bikers are friends and Steve has done nothing but help me from the moment I met him."

Steve took a quick breath before finishing his walk to Y/N. He gave her a short kiss and then looked suspiciously at Mandie.

When Mandie practically undressed Steve with her eyes, he snaked an arm around Y/N.

"I'm going to send the boys home then grab a shower. You good here or should I keep Frank around?" Steve asked his best girl.

Y/N shook her head. "Send them home. They can take this pasta with them, though. I didn't get a chance to feed any of them yet."

Momentarily forgetting about Mandie, Steve was filled with pride that his girl was gonna feed the guys. That's something old ladies do. He kissed her a little harder this time. "Love you."

Y/N flushed red at the PDA but replied, "I love you, too. Go," She pushed him back slightly with a chuckle. "Send them home and shower. You smell like the road."

Steve smirked as he walked backwards out of the kitchen. "I thought you liked when I smell like the road? Never heard you complain before." It reassured Steve to see her smiling and teasing him. Made him feel a little better about leaving her earlier to go to the club.

"Go!" She shooed him away, still flushing from his implication.

When Y/N looked back to Mandie her chuckle faded. Mandie looked like she was about to explode. "What's wrong?" Y/N asked.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Mandie’s voice was hushed but angry. "You love him? He's a biker! The only thing he loves is the club! And what, he's living here, too?"

"Yeah, but he's protecting me. Why are you-"

"You're so stupid! He's only here to sleep with you. Once he gets that he'll bail and you know it. You're fooling yourself if you believe that he loves you. This is just because you've been in a dry spell since Danny. Shame on you for forgetting about him!"

"Mandie, stop it! What is wrong with you?!" Y/N's voice had gotten loud enough that Frank stepped in.

"Everything okay in here?" He asked with tense shoulders.

Mandie inhaled to speak but Y/N cut her off. "Everything is fine." She said with a hurt look at Mandie. "She was just leaving. Please make sure she gets to her car."

Mandie's jaw dropped. "Wow, kicking me out. Some friend you are. I was just trying to help you."

"Goodnight, Mandie." Was Y/N's only reply.

Mandie scoffed before snatching her purse from the counter top and all but stomping to the door and down the porch steps. She got in her car with a slammed door and she hurried back out of the driveway and down the street.

"Quite a piece of work, that one." Frank growled when he came back inside. "You'll have to excuse my evesdroppin' but I didn’t like a thing she said to you." When Y/N looked a little surprised to hear he'd been listening, he clarified, "VP's orders."

Y/N nodded and leaned on the back of the couch, running her hands over her face with a sigh. "Yeah, well, she's always been a fair-weathered friend. I just don't know what got into her all of a sudden."

Frank shook his head. "Don't know but I get a funny feelin' about her."

"I know." Y/N sighed. "Well, now that she's gone you boys can head home, too."

"Maybe we should wait until VP is outta the shower." Pietro suggested.

"No," She offered a tired smile. "Y'all go home. I'm sure he won't be in there long."

Frank and Pietro shifted their weight but conceded. Frank made her set the alarm behind them and she could tell he listened for the beeps from the other side of the door, which made her chuckle and call out another 'good-night', which he returned. She peeked through the blinds and watched all five bikes ride off.

Y/N went into the kitchen and swore under her breath. She'd forgotten to send the pasta back with them. Oh, well.

After she'd cleaned up, she could hear Steve using the blow dryer. She needed the trash to be taken out as it had started to smell from who knows what. She thought about waiting for Steve to do it but when she got another whiff of something rancid, she couldn't take it.

She tied up the bag and hurried out the front door to take it to the outside bins. She groaned to see that the bin had already been taken out to the curb. With the bag at arm's length, she walked down her driveway and tossed it quickly into the bin.

Y/N grinned at herself. This was the most mundane thing to happen to her in a while and it was ridiculous how much it entertained her.

The sound of a bike heading toward her gave her pause. Had Frank or one of the boys forgotten something?

She slowly backed up to give whoever it was room to pull into the driveway but when the biker drove slowly past, Y/N's blood ran cold.

He wore a black bandanna across his nose and mouth and sunglasses to cover his eyes, despite the fact that it was nearly midnight. He wore a long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows that showed off his ink. On his forearm was a cassette tape and a blue skull with a red mohawk.

Frozen in place, Y/N couldn't breathe. A flash of the accident. Pain in her chest.

A rev of the biker's engine and he sped off.

Y/N ran back inside and when she opened the door she collided with Steve. He kept her from falling and she buried herself against him as she started crying.

"What are you doing outside?!" He yelled. He was more scared than angry but it didn't sound that way.

"He- He- That man- it wasn't Frank. I thought it was- his tattoos. I think he was- from the accident-"

Steve moved Y/N out if his way and set the alarm before shutting the door behind him. He could still hear the distant rumble of a chopper. He hopped on his bike and took off, following the sound.

Y/N grabbed her phone and a knife from the kitchen before locking herself in her room. She dialed for Nat and silently begged that she would pick up.

"Hey, you."

"Nat! Please send someone! TheguyfromthecrashwashereandStevetookoffafterhimandimalone-"

Nat cursed. "Whoa! Y/N, slow down! Where are you?"

Y/N tried to slow her breathing and stop crying so she could be understood. "In my room. Steve took off after him. I'm alone, here." A sob ripped through her.

"After who?"

"The biker from the crash."

Nat cursed again. "Stay where you are. We're coming. Don't leave your room!"

"Okay," Y/N's voice was a little calmer now. "Okay."

**************

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pynkhues · 5 years ago

Note

If you are still taking prompts could you do one where Beth is shopping buying clothes for the kids and Rio?

Haha, gosh, anon, this is like, 8,000 words (literally) and is 90% Beth being a disaster, so I hope you enjoy it. ;-)

Set in The Centre and Circumference / Domestic Fic universe

Beth’s still pinning up the hem of Emma’s old dress on Jane when Rio steps in through the front door, Marcus’s travel bag slung over one shoulder, and Marcus himself over the other, red cheeked and giggling.

“Hi, honey,” Beth calls out behind her, struggling to keep hold of both her handful of pins and Jane, who’s suddenly squirming with excitement at Marcus’ arrival. “How was your mom’s?”

“It was good, Miss Elizabeth! She said to say thank you for the brownies. We ate them all in five seconds.”

“Five seconds? Damn, no wonder you gettin’ heavy,” Rio says, slinging Marcus off his shoulder and dropping him bodily to the couch. They’ve been out for most of the day, although Beth’s not entirely sure what the plan was beyond the pick-up, lunch to catch-up on the fortnight Marcus has been at Laura’s, then a trip to the batting cages. Beth generally tries not to pry – she likes the fact that Rio treats the days he picks Marcus up from Laura’s as sacred, a time just for them. Likes how seriously he takes his time with him (although Rio does complain it’s more for him these days, with the way Marcus barely says hi before barraging Rio with questions about Jane.

“Half the shit he only tells me coz he’s tellin’ me how hyped he is to tell her,” Rio had said last night, loading the dishwasher while Beth wiped down the kitchen bench. “Askin’ me what I think she’s gonna say. Like he’s testin’ the stories out on me for the real audience.”

“It’s cute,” Beth had cooed in reply, and Rio had levelled her with an unamused stare.

“It’s annoyin’.”)

“Do me!” Jane demands now, watching as Marcus rolls off the couch, straight into one of the piles of clothes on the floor, still giggling. She thrusts her arms up in the air towards Rio, bouncing on her toes, and Beth sighs, gesturing for her to put them back down.

“Let me finish this first, sweetie.”

“Nooo, I want to play rocket lady!”

“Listen to your mama, Jane,” Rio replies easily, and Jane pouts dramatically, watching as Marcus tumbles off the pile of clothes, and practically skips over to Beth and Jane.

“Can we please play, Miss Elizabeth?” Marcus says, adopting his most angelic voice, and Beth internally rolls her eyes, knows that voice well enough these days to know it’s a lie.

“In a minute, okay?” she replies, finishing the last couple of pins on the hem, and gestures for Jane to hold her hands up again, tugging it off over her head. She reaches back to grab the one she was wearing before only to have Jane leap off the coffee table and tear down the hall in her underwear, Marcus giggling on her heels the whole while.

With a groan, Beth sags forwards, folding Jane’s old dress and dropping it back to the floor before grabbing the new, pinned one, and making quick work of making sure the hem is even.

“Everything go okay today?” she asks behind her, and Rio makes a noise of affirmation, before saying, “Want me to get rid of these, mama?”

Twisting on the spot, Beth glances back at where Rio gently kicks at the lined-up row of battered children’s shoes by the door, before dropping Marcus’ bag and starting to reach down to gather up the shoes. Beth frantically shakes her head, waving an arm out at him.

“No, leave them. I’m taking them to the mall to get them re-soled.”

It earns her a disbelieving look from Rio, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, his mouth open, before he looks back down at the shoes.

“Yeah, these ain’t worth savin’.”

As if to punctuate his point, he grabs a particularly ratty one, letting its sole hang down like a heavy lower lip. He waves it at her.

“It kind of looks like a puppet when you hold it like that,” Beth says, bemused, as she climbs to her feet.

“Kinda looks like trash too.”

“Everything that doesn’t cost a vital organ looks like trash to you,” Beth counters. “You know thrifting is very trendy these days. There are like, these groups on Facebook and everything. It’s very social and it’s like this rejection of fast fashion. You know clothes are becoming one of the biggest waste contributions to landfills?”

Rio’s eyebrow pops up at that, and she knows he’s about to make a joke about her contribution to clothes in landfill – namely the bodies wearing those clothes, before he even makes it.

“Don’t say it,” she tells him, and Rio sucks in his lips, but complies.

“That what you doin’?” he says instead. “Thriftin’?”

“Well, no,” she admits. “These are hand-me-downs. But it’s still keeping it out of landfill.”

She points over to the two piles in the furthest corner by the window.

“Annie and Ruby brought those over the other day. That’s Sara’s and that’s Sadie’s,” she points to the next pile down the line. “Sadie’s stuff goes to Kenny,” then the next pile, “Who’s things go to Danny, who goes to Marcus, who’s things I’ll bundle up for Harry – he really hasn’t hit his growth spurt like Marcus has yet – and your sister’s boys, and anything that they’ve all outgrown can go to Sadie’s brother, Dakota. The girls are a bit easier,” she adds, pointing. “Sara, Emma, Jane.”

By the time she looks back at Rio, he’s just staring at her, a look on his face somewhere between amused and a little horrified, and - - figures, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She’s had to stop Rio throwing out too many shirts since they moved in together – after all, a little bit of blood isn’t that hard to get out. Still, Rio strides over to the pile of clothes beside the couch, crouching down to pull up one of Jane’s old t-shirts from the top of the pile and promptly shoving his hand through the frayed hole separating the collar of it from the rest of it.

“And this?”

Beth just shrugs.

“I wash them and I shred them, and then they’re perfect for stuffing cushions and teddy bears for Christmas. There’s a lot of it this year, so hope your boys are ready for some throw pillows from the boss.”

It’s enough to make Rio laugh, even if his face is twisted into a bit of a cringe, his eyes drifting back to the pile she’s made of Sadie, Kenny and Danny’s old things for Marcus. He rocks his jaw in a way that Beth briefly thinks is unhappy, but she puts the thought out of her head.

It’s just stress, she thinks. After all, the school holidays are over in just two weeks, and this year, it feels big, with all the kids starting at Glenvale Elementary. They all seem to be excited at least – Marcus and Jane in particular at the prospect of being in the same class since they’d basically become joined at the hip over the summer break. No, although they haven’t really talked about it, she knows that all anxiety over the shift are hers and Rio’s. She just worries they’ve made the wrong choice, even though Glenvale had felt so right, and she thinks maybe Rio feels it too.

It’s why it had felt so good to latch onto this tradition. The annual wardrobe cleanout. She’d started it back when she was in school – back after their dad had left and their mom was ill, and she’d needed to make sure she and Annie would have enough clothes that fit for the year, enough in their wardrobes that it wouldn’t raise red flags with teachers or leave them on the backfoot – needed to make sure they had clothes for gym and swim and picture day, and whatever they didn’t have she’d make or borrow or Ruby would help her wrangle from whatever family pass downs she could.

And it had just made sense to keep doing it with her own kids, particularly when Dean had first gotten Boland Motors into trouble. When they’d had to tighten the purse strings the first time. Beth frowns, swallows thickly, the memory coming too quickly of being pregnant with Danny and frantically worrying about just how they were going to pay for their next appointment at the sonographer.

“Kinda figured you the type of mama who thinks clothes are the kids’ creative expression or somethin’.”

The words cut through Beth’s thoughts, her memories, and she blinks up to see Rio looking back at her, and any needling in his voice seems to soften when he sees something on her face, and - - right, Beth thinks. She paints on the best smile she can manage, jokingly rolling her eyes.

“Sure. For Halloween or fancy dress, but their day-to-day clothes should be practical. Functional. I mean, they’re children! I really don’t get this whole thing about fashion for kids.”

Rio just laughs at that, folding Jane’s torn shirt and dropping it back on the pile.

“Don’t worry, baby, no one would mistake you for someone who believed in any type o’ fashion.”

And Beth blinks at that, her mouth ajar. Before she can help herself, she glances down at her grey leggings and her loose floral smock top, and okay, maybe it’s not the picture of fashion, but she’s at home. She bites the inside of her cheek, looking away from him, suddenly annoyed.

“You’re not exactly runway ready yourself,” she bites back, spinning around on the spot. She marches over to Danny’s pile, grabbing one of Kenny’s old shirts, and checks it over. She thinks this one is missing a button, and she’s sure she has one that matches in her spare button jar.

“No? Damn, and here I thought you liked how I dressed.”

The heat finds her cheeks too quickly, and Beth focuses harder on the shirt, running her fingers down the starched fabric.

“It’d be nice if you wore a colour that didn’t make you look like you’d walked out of The Vampire Diaries,” she sniffs, and Rio laughs, because he must get her intent, even though she knows he doesn’t have a clue what that show is (she watched it pretty religiously while she was pregnant with Emma). She fidgets a little on the spot, glances up at him, but he’s crouching down, seemingly re-sorting her piles of clothes, starting with the one for Marcus, and before she can help herself, she asks:

“You really don’t like my clothes?”

“Like gettin’ you out of ‘em,” he replies easily, pulling a face at a checked shirt of Danny’s Beth always liked. When she doesn’t reply, he glances over at her, clocking her expression, and he just sighs. “I don’t care what you wear, you know that, mami.”

She nods, because she does know that, just - -

She shakes her head, tossing Danny’s shirt over her shoulder, and wandering over to the pile from Sara. Most of it she thinks is still a couple of years away from fitting Emma, but she pulls one off the top anyway, shaking it out, and it really is sweet, but - - no. Still another year away at least – Emma really doesn’t have Sara’s height. She folds it up again to put back into the box for next year.

And the thing is, she expects Rio just to leave. To go chase after Marcus, get him upstairs and unpacked like he usually would, only Rio doesn’t. He stays, making careful work of going through first Marcus’ piles, and then the rest of them, refolding them, seeing the adjustments that Beth has already made, the mark-ups and pins, the notes she’s made on post-its about buttons and tailoring, and Beth’s just - - she’s not really sure what to make of that at all.

“I give Marcus a budget.”

The words are sudden, stark through the post-dinner-post-kids-to-bed fog of Beth’s head, and she blinks over at where Rio has suddenly materialised in the doorway between their en suite and bedroom, his naked torso shimmering with the remnants of his shower, white towel low on his waist, steam billowing out behind him, and it just - - well. Beth flushes before she can help herself, pulling a set of clean pyjamas for herself out of the bottom drawer of their tallboy.

“You give a seven-year-old a budget?” she asks, latching onto the point more than anything, amusement heavy in her tone, and Rio makes a noise of affirmation, striding over to stand beside her and unfolding the knot on his towel.

“Two-fifty,” Rio says, slinging the towel over his shoulder and grabbing clean underwear from one of the top drawers. “Start of the school year. Tell him it’s gotta go across all o’ it – pyjamas, bathin’ suit, socks, jocks, clothes for school. Let him pick what he wants. Think it helps him know what money means, what it’s worth, how he’s gotta spend it, that he can’t get everythin’ he wants. All that shit.”

It’s enough to make Beth reel back a bit, to stare at Rio, naked beside her as he shakes out a pair of grey boxer briefs. He’s casual as he talks about it – easy in that way he can manage, but there’s something a little different underneath it too. Something that, if she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say was cautious, but Beth has no idea what to do with that.

“Seven,” she reiterates instead, and Rio turns suddenly to face her, stepping into his underwear, and she has to look away because - - god, the sight of him naked still makes her blush.

“Never too early to start learnin’ about money.”

He says it like it’s easy, like it’s that simple, like he’s not talking about a child, and before she can help herself, Beth is laughing, stepping away from their tallboy, away from him. She shoves her pyjamas beneath her arm and grabs a hair tie off her bedside table, tossing her hair up, just starting to make tracks to shower herself.

“Please,” she says rolling her eyes, but before she can add anything to it, Rio interrupts.

“I’m thinkin’ we go to the mall when you takin’ in the shoes, we give all the kids the same rules. They get two-fifty each and a list o’ what they gotta get and we let them decide. You still got your hand-me-downs, still keepin’ shit outta landfill, but they got a few things they picked for themselves too.”

And just - - what? Beth blinks back at him, her forehead furrowing, and she’s laughing before she can help herself, her voice heavy with disbelief.

“Rio, they’re children, what are they going to do with $250? Probably buy like, a game thing or a Spiderman costume.”

It’s sudden then, the sharpness of his exhale, him lurching, half naked towards his side of the bed. He tosses back the sheets, rocks his jaw, and it’s strange because she feels it – the fact that she might’ve done something to really offend him, when he suddenly just laughs, eyes darting up to her, something acidic in his gaze.

“Don’t you wish you’d learnt anythin’ about handlin’ money before you had to rob a grocery store?”

It hits like a poison dart – the words themselves sharp, but the deeper they settle in her, the worse they feel, and Beth’s reeling backwards, her eyes unblinking, her lips parted.

“Excuse me?”

And she knows he regrets it, can hear it in the change in his breath and the way he looks away from her, the way he sucks in his lips, but she can also tell that he meant it, and that only pushes the words deeper.

“Come on, mami,” he says, tone quietening, like this is meant to soften the blow. “You know it ain’t the area you smartest in.”

“Says the guy who wants to spend more than $1,200 at the mall this weekend on clothes they’re going to - - to grow out of or ruin or - - ”

“Nuh, it’s about teachin’ em about money, and lettin’ ‘em pick who they wanna be. What they wanna project out in the world instead o’ - - shit - - bein’ Jane and walkin’ around in clothes her cousin picked out ten years ago. Clothes that all her fuckin’ siblings have worn before her.”

And she just - - stares at him, stares at his broad shoulders and his sharp features and his young, one child, perfect family face and suddenly feels breathless with anger. She scrambles to pick her pyjamas off the floor – hadn’t even realised she’d dropped them – before waving a hand at him across the bed.

“How dare you,” she hisses. “You can play at authority in a lot of areas, but not in this. I’ve been raising children a lot longer than you have and you can’t just waltz in here and - - ”

“Oh, okay,” Rio interjects, laughing, but it’s not amused, the sound tight in his throat. “So you can decide my kid’s gonna spend the school year in your kids’ hand-me-downs, but I don’t get to even suggest nothin’ for yours? Okay.”

But that’s not - - Beth’s shaking her head, still furious, but also - -

“No,” she says. “That’s not what I - - “

But Rio just yanks back the sheets harder, his face set firm in anger.

“Yeah, no, I heard you, baby. Don’t worry. Loud and clear.”

Beth exhales, chest suddenly raw, watching as Rio clambers heavily into bed, then immediately gets out of it again, bristling with energy. He strides back over to their tallboy, yanks open a drawer, like he’s going to get changed, when he suddenly thinks better of it. He slams it shut, says:

“Elizabeth, I’m a fuckin’ good fa– ”

At the same time that she says:

“I’m not bad with money, I just - - ”

They both stop, staring at each other across the bedroom, and it’s Rio who breaks the quiet.

“Just what?” he asks her, and Beth meets his gaze, and she wants to say it. Wants to tell him.

I just never had any of my own before now.

But just - - god. Her chest flushes with shame, and it’s too pathetic, she thinks, to even think it opposite him like this. This guy. This man. Who had to be talked into a budget for the house they bought together, who can drop thousands of dollars on paintings with a flick of his hand, and even more on business investments and now apparently gives a small child a cheque to shop with and just - -

Beth’s still learning how to buy the premium brand of washing powder without feeling guilty at the grocery store.

“I’m going to have a shower,” she says, looking away from him. She hears him exhale, something between pissed off and resigned, and she adds, “Don’t wait up,” before she closes the en suite door behind her.

She strips quickly, flicking the shower on, and leaving it a second, maybe two, before pushing herself beneath the stream of water and letting it engulf her. She’s being unfair, her head tells her, and Beth grabs her bodywash, squirting a generous helping into her hand. He could never understand, her heart tells her, and Beth reaches for the bath lily, rubbing it into the body wash and furiously massaging it into her body.

It’s not like he’s wrong exactly. She knows the kids don’t love the hand-me-downs, just like she knows that they’re different – that Jane hates Emma’s frilly dresses, and how much Danny’s colouring differs from Kenny’s, but they have their entire lives to explore that, and right now it’s having enough to wear that keeps you warm and safe and happy and - - sure, okay. It’s not like Beth can’t afford clothes for them now, but maybe - - maybe it’s surprised her.

The way Rio had had an opinion on this.

Dean had always let her raise the kids how she wanted, had never argued with it, because she was the one with both the experience (Annie) and the means (the uterus and the patience), but that doesn’t mean that Rio was ever going to do that – in fact, it would be weirder if he did just let her carry on as normal, because he was right. He is a good father, she knows that, she loves that, and she just - -

She shifts beneath the stream of water, closes her eyes, lifts her chin.

She tries to clear her winding mind.

She hasn’t slept.

Not at all, she doesn’t think, although maybe she has. She thinks maybe getting out of the shower hours ago to Rio asleep in their bed had given her enough spite to furiously fall asleep herself. Burning with the desire to be able to give him a clear faced, refreshed, lock-jawed grin in the morning, only it hadn’t worked out that way. She thinks she’s maybe had an hour’s sleep at most.

She rolls over again, huffs a little into the pillow, and she feels him shift too beside her, and just - - before she can help herself, she says:

“Maybe a hundred, not two-fifty.”

The words hang heavy in the night, and right - - he’s asleep, Beth thinks, but still. She feels a weight off her chest at the potential to compromise, to get this thing working for them, and - -

“Two hundred.”

The voice is gravelly, hoarse, but she recognises it too well – the lack of sleep in it, and has he been faking being asleep? She blinks over at him, but he doesn’t roll over to meet her, so she quickly rolls away again too, biting her cheek, facing the far wall of their bedroom.

“One-fifty,” she counters with, and before he can say anything else, she adds: “I’m not - - that’s it, okay? Final offer.”

He grunts at that, the bed shifting beneath them, and she knows he’s turned around to face her, can feel the heat of his gaze on her, can always feel that, but she refuses to turn around, refuses to give him anything but her back right now, because she’s not sure what she’ll feel if she looks at him, but it’s relief that uncurls in her chest when he agrees.

“We really don’t like to re-sole a shoe more than twice, Ms. Boland. Maybe three times if it’s a good quality shoe, but these are - -”

The cobbler rolls out his hand, and Beth flushes, pushing her handbag strap up her arm, trying to ignore the bustle of the mall behind her. Trying to focus instead on the multitude of children’s shoes she’s laid out on the counter between them, finding herself unreasonably glad that Rio had agreed to take the kids to the first stores of the day while she did this.

“Right, okay,” she says, grabbing a particularly battered pair from him, and looking out over the rest. “Are there any you can do?”

He agrees to four or five pairs at least, enough that she can justify the trip, and she offers a quick thanks, pushing the rest back down into the tote bag she’d brought them in and shuffling out of the repairs store, back out into the belly of the mall. She checks her phone for any messages, but there’s only one from Ruby, asking about coffee in the morning, which Beth replies to, before checking the time.

It’s barely past 11, and her and Rio had agreed to meet up in the food court at noon unless she found them earlier, but screw it, she thinks petulantly, lugging the bag of children’s shoes over her shoulder. Let him struggle with the kids and their budgets a little longer.

She finds herself wandering in and out of a few different stores instead, earmarking things in her head for Christmas – a new kettle and toaster set for Annie in a bright metallic blue, Egyptian Cotton bed sheets for Ruby and Stan, even finds a table cloth set which really would look lovely with Rio’s mom’s flatware, and she’s making a list on her phone when she wanders past a store entrance and stops.

On the table out front is a row of folded sweaters – all rich, midnight blues and slate greys and heavy blacks, with a subtle V-neckline, and on their own, they’re nice, but they’re not on their own. Beside them are matching ones in children’s sizes, and she can’t help it. How quickly she imagines Rio and Marcus in them. Imagines them together – Marcus sitting on the step below his father like in the photograph she knows is Rio’s favourite, sees Marcus slung over Rio’s shoulder, sees Marcus asleep against Rio’s side in the backseat of her minivan, sees the photo already that she’d keep on her phone, just - - sees them.

She blinks, mouth dry, looking back down at the display. The slate grey would be the one he’d get, she knows that already, but she finds her hands drifting to a softer colour, something a little cooler – a grey-teal that would look so sweet on Marcus, and handsome on Rio, and just - -

Is this even something they do? Buy clothes for each other?

What if she buys it and he doesn’t like it? What if he makes it a joke – her buying clothes after being so insistent on hand-me-downs? What if - -

She bites the inside of her cheek, dropping her hand awkwardly. She can see a sales assistant inside the store clock her, start to make their way over, and it’s enough for Beth to wave a hand out at her, dismissing her, but when that doesn’t work, she quickly steps back out into the mall, away from it.

It’s almost noon anyway.

The plastic bag crinkles loudly as Emma pulls out the dress in the middle of the food court, her eyes big as she shows it off – and it really is beautiful. A soft cream tulle speckled with gold sequins, the Zara label hanging off the back of it. Pressing it to herself, Emma gives the biggest twirl she can manage, almost taking out a poor kid at the next table in the process, and Beth laughs, shooting the other family an apologetic look before beckoning Emma closer to the table.

“Careful, sweetie.”

Giggling, Emma nods, giving Beth the dress before rummaging in another bag for a shoebox.

“And I got boots just like you too, mommy!”

With that, she yanks out a tiny pair of black ankle boots with a low heel and a bow. They really are sweet too, Beth thinks, slipping on a look of dutiful awe as Emma preens, delighted whether at her purchase of Beth’s approval, it’s hard to say.

“They’re beautiful,” Beth enthuses, glancing sideways at Rio who’s mostly distracted trying to get ketchup off Jane’s forehead and god, how’d she even get it there? “Did you get a new bathing suit too?”

Like you actually needed, Beth thinks, and Emma shakes her head.

“Not yet, but I’ve still got - - hmm,” Emma frowns, putting the shoes back in the box and pushing them into her bag. She slides back onto the bench and grabs her notebook out of her fluffy Barbie handbag, flipping to a marked page. She frowns, before looking over at Rio. “Mr. Rio, can you help?”

And it’s almost too easy, the way Rio drags Jane into his lap to keep mopping her up as he slides them both across the bench to sit beside Emma. He looks over her shoulder, down at her notebook.

“Right, see so that dress was $36 and those boots were $40, so - - what’s six plus zero?”

“Six!” Emma says easily, smiling, and Rio nods, gaze dropping down to Jane’s hands, he gestures at Beth for a fresh wet wipe, which she pulls from the packet in her purse, passing it over.

“That’s good. And what’s three plus four?”

“Seven!”

“Right again, darlin’. So that means you’ve spent $76, which is almost exactly half your budget,” he tells her, wiping Jane’s hands as she wriggles back against his chest. “Now you got that other half to get your swimsuit and some pyjamas and some socks. Think we can swing it?”

“Yup!” Emma says happily, and Rio grins down at her.

“Me too.”

The bustle of the food court feels dense around them, a cacophony of sound, the overwhelming smell of burgers, hot dogs, tacos filling her nose. And it’s strange, how unaffected Rio seems by it, because he makes no secret of hating this sort of thing when it’s just the two of them, but with the kids here, it’s different. He’s different, and Beth knew that, knew he became the picture of patience with them, but - - she bites the inside of her cheek, glancing down, which was the wrong choice, because suddenly all she can see is all the bags of stuff around them – the sneakers that Kenny’s bought and the three animal onesies that Jane’s bought (and at least those are pyjamas). Before she can help herself, she exhales sharply, a strange feeling unfurling in her chest at the prospect, her fingers clenching, only they’re clenching in this sparkling dress of Emma’s and Beth makes a noise in the back of her throat. The sound is enough to make Rio glance over at her, his eyes flicking across her face, before he scoots away from Emma, dropping Jane into the space between them.

“Why don’t you guys figure out what’s takin’ the boys so long,” he says, gesturing with a flick of his chin over to the ice cream stand where Kenny and Marcus are still deciding on flavours. The girls hum happily, sliding off the bench and darting across the food court towards them. Rio turns better towards her, opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Beth’s interrupting.

“When on earth is she going to wear this?” she asks, shaking out the dress before folding it again and slipping it back into the bag, and Rio just looks at her, jaw rocking briefly, before he says:

“Whenever she wants. It’s her budget. We talked it out. She knows it means she can’t get nothin’ else fancy. The rest of its gonna be basics.”

Shaking her head, Beth lurches up off the bench, starting to pack up the mess from the burgers they’d had for lunch.

“It’s a waste of money.”

“Not to her.”

He offers it simply, calmly, and Beth hates the way her hands clench around the burger wrappers, the way her chest seizes, her stomach flutters, and she just - - looks at him across the table. Looks at where he stares right back at her, his eyes open, blinking almost lazily, and he doesn’t even look defensive, or annoyed, just - -

She doesn’t really know what he’s looking like.

Suddenly though he looks away, and Beth’s glad for it. Feels almost released from it, only the feeling doesn’t last long, not when he looks beneath the table at their piles of bags and sees the tote full of shoes.

“Thought you were takin’ those to get fixed?” he says, and Beth blinks back at him, mouth open for a second, feeling the heat rise up her chest, before she puts on a self-deprecating laughs, waves one hand at him while she refocuses on packing up lunch.

“Oh! Yeah, I got distracted, haven’t taken them yet.”

“Distracted by what?”

Beth just gestures vaguely around before grabbing the napkin full of Danny’s uneaten pickles (he really does hate them) and bundling that up for the bin too.

“We’re in a mall. There��s a lot to be distracted by.”

With that, she walks all the rubbish over to the bin, shoving it through the flap, briefly glad for the reprieve of that too. She glances up over the fray of the crowd getting lunch, out to where the kids are finally starting to settle on flavours under Emma’s bossy instruction, the line lengthening behind them, and she really should go over, should round them up, but - -

She looks back at where Rio’s starting to get the bags together again, watches him peer into the tote, looking at the shoes, and she’s striding back before she can help herself, weirdly tense at the thought of him realising some of them aren’t there, like he’d find out that way that the cobbler couldn’t even mend them. She snatches the bag out of his grip, and Rio stares at her, eyebrows high on his forehead before they furrow.

“We still fightin’?”

And just - -

What?

She blinks hard at him.

“What?”

“We still fightin’? Or what are we doin’?” he asks, waving a hand out at her, voice low and hoarse. “Kinda figured we were good last night, compromisin’ and what not, but you actin’ all sore.”

“I’m not acting sore.”

Rio grunts, rocks his jaw, looking back at where the kids are starting back towards them, ice cream cones in hand, and god, Jane’s is already dripping down her fingers, and then she thinks of Rio, minutes ago, patiently cleaning her up without complaint, Jane not fighting it like she always does with Beth, and Beth just - -

How does this get to be easy for him too?

“C’mon,” he says beside her, and Beth blinks, jerked from her thoughts.

“No, I’ve got to - - ”

“We can take the shoes at the end,” he tells her, tilting his head over to the children. “Shop with your kids, Elizabeth.”

Beth closes her mouth and nods.

Danny’s forehead furrows, glancing between the three pyjama sets Beth’s holding up for him, tapping his chin.

“I really want the Minecraft ones,” he decides, and Beth exhales in relief, tossing them easily over her shoulder.

“Okay,” she says, readjusting her grip on the other two sets, holding them down so that they’re practically eye level with him. “Then you’ve got to pick between the Star Wars ones and the Pikachu ones. That’s all the money you’ve got left.”

Nodding, Danny’s little face scrunches up in seriousness, the weight of the consideration heavy there, and if Beth were any less exhausted, it really would be pretty cute.

“Star Wars,” he decides. “Mr Rio said they’ve gotta last the whole year, and Kenny says Pikachu’s only for babies.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Beth replies, making a mental note to talk to Kenny later. “I think Pikachu can be for anybody.”

But Danny’s made up his mind, so Beth throws the Finn pyjamas over her shoulder with the Minecraft ones and hooks the Pikachu ones back on the rack.

“I wish I had more money,” Danny says with a pout, eyeing off the bright yellow pyjamas on the rack, and Beth hums, double checking the price tags on the two sets Danny’s picked, making sure it really will fit into his budget.

“Well, you can always save up your allowance and get them.”

“Mr Rio said if I do more chores I’ll get more money too,” Danny says happily. “And then I can buy everything I want.”

The thought sits strangely in Beth’s ears, almost like an insect, legs sticking out at angles, and it takes her a moment to process it, to look back down at Danny’s freckled face and frown.

“Not everything can be bought, honey,” she says, and Danny shrugs, only half paying attention, eyes already on the lookout for his siblings, and Beth’s feels irritation spark in her belly. “Danny!”

He does look up at her then, eyes wide at the sharpness in her tone, and it’s enough to make her instantly regret it. She tries for a smile, tries to smooth out her features, to soften her look.

“You’re very lucky, to be able to do this,” she tries. “Me and your father have always worked very hard, and we couldn’t always afford to give you this, and there might be times in your life again where we can’t. Sometimes hard work gives you money, yes, but sometimes it pays you in other ways – like with experience and - - ”

She fumbles briefly for the words, and Danny just stares up at her, looking chastised, and god, this isn’t what she wanted. She closes her eyes briefly.

“Money isn’t everything, that’s all I’m saying,” she says after a second, and Danny frowns softly up at her.

“I know, mom. And I like some of the hand-me-downs too. Like Sadie’s brown coat!”

And she almost hates it, the relief that the words give her, the way they settle warm in her chest like a gift. Her smile loosens up, becomes something real, something easy. She loosens her grip on Danny’s pyjamas and, god, she hadn’t realised she was holding onto them that tight.

“That one is pretty cool, huh?”

Danny hums in agreement.

“Even Marcus thinks it’s cool. I told him he can have it after me.”

Beth’s smile widens even more at that, her heart lightening as she glances over at where Marcus is chattering to Jane in the aisle, comparing their bags of clothes, and Beth bites her lip, looking over at where Rio’s on his cell, talking to somebody in code, bags of kids clothes slung over his shoulder, and just - - she bites her lip harder. Passing the pyjamas to Danny, she says:

“Want to go show these to Emma and Kenny?”

Danny hums happily, trotting off down the aisle towards his brother and sister, and Beth sucks in a breath, looking over at Rio, who’s just finished his call, and right, she thinks, collecting herself, hand tightening on the straps of her handbag and her tote. She wanders over to him, something like an apology sweetening on her tongue when she hears a rip, feels a weight release, and before she can stop it, the strap on the tote has snapped.

Torn shoes spill out across the store floor, almost in slow motion, and she quickly drops low, scrambling to pick them up, shoving them back into the tote. It feels like everyone’s looking at her, even though she’s sure they’re not, mortification flushing across her chest, and god, she didn’t even want to be here, she just wanted to go to the shoe repair place and then she wanted to go home and spend the weekend at her sewing machine, and - -

And suddenly Rio’s big, steady hands are there too, making quick work of picking up the rest of the shoes, and Beth’s snatching them from his grip before he can give them to her, shoving them into the bag, her chest flushed, and she can just feel him looking at her, and she hates it.

“Guess you won, huh?” she hisses at him before she can stop herself. “Congratulations. That’s what you wanted, right? God forbid everything don’t work out exactly how you want it.”

Thing is, Rio does look briefly smug at that, like he can’t quite help himself either, having taken no offense apparently at her snatching the shoes away from him, and that just serves to fan the flames of her embarrassment which stokes the embers of her fury, and she’s just talking before she can stop herself, a rambling mess as she keeps pushing wrecked shoes into her broken bag.

“Even the kids can learn to budget money and I’m just the idiot who waited until I was forty to do it, and you get to teach me and them at the same time, because I’m the one who brought a bag full of shoes to the mall the cobbler won’t even fix, and I’m the one sending our kids to school in - - rags, and - -”

She inhales, breathless suddenly, and she has to look away from him, blood thundering in her ears, hands shaking, and then Rio’s big, steady hands are on her arms, yanking her up so quickly she drops the bag of shoes all over again, but he doesn’t let her stop to pick it up. His hand moves promptly to her wrist, tugging her behind him, out into the aisle, pausing only briefly to tell Marcus and Jane to go to Kenny, and then they’re moving again, and Beth’s throat feels tight, because she knows exactly what he’s doing. Has seen him do this with the kids – seen him haul them off when they’re throwing tantrums, and that’s not what she’s doing, that’s not what this is, but - - okay, maybe it is too, she thinks, letting Rio walk them over to the fitting rooms, ignoring the shop assistant, and shove Beth into the first empty one he can find. She almost stumbles head first into the mirrored wall, spinning around to see Rio slip in behind her, lock the door, clench his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

And then they just - - stand there.

Staring at each other, stuck in this tiny fitting room, and Beth’s chest is flushed and heaving, even beneath the neck of her sweater, and Rio’s still not looking at her, not doing anything except rubbing furiously at his face, eyes shut, and Beth refuses to be the one to break the quiet, not when he was the one who dragged her in here.

“Okay,” he says after another minute. He drops his hand, stares at her. “You know I love playin’ with you, darlin’, but we ain’t playin’ like this with the kids. We gotta be a team.”

“I know that,” Beth says sharply, and he shakes his head, his own voice raising.

“Nah, you don’t. You actin’ like coz you got the majority – those four kids you been tellin’ me about as long as I known you – that you call all the shots here.”

And just - - that’s not fair, she thinks, her arms flailing out either side of her.

“I let you try this budget thing, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you ain’t on board. I know it, and the kids know it, and shit, Elizabeth, that ain’t how I’m doin’ this.”

“I have a system that works!”

“Yeah, me too!”

He sucks in a breath, blinks hard all of a sudden, like he’s just realised how loud his voice had gotten, or maybe like he remembers the last time they said those words to each other, only then it was about counterfeit money, and not their children and it’s enough to make him push his hands on his hips. He stares angrily at the floor for a minute, and she remembers him last night, the way she’d thought she’s offended him, the sentence he hadn’t finished – I’m a fuckin’ good fa-

Guilt spikes in her gut, and Beth looks away, curling her arms around her waist. Outside she can hear customers quietly leaving their own change rooms, whispering to one another, and god, heat finds her cheeks, because there’s no way they’re not whispering about them, and Beth briefly clenches her eyes shut, shifting her weight.

“You spend too much money,” Beth tells him softly, or not him, tells the change room wall, and Rio exhales harshly.

“I ever done anythin’ to make you think I ain’t in control of my spendin’?”

“You spend too much money on us,” Beth corrects, her eyes flicking up to him, and Rio’s jaw rocks as he looks back at her.

“It’s our money,” he tells her. “We earn it together, don’t we? Partners and whatnot. Figure we got enough to spend some on us and ours too.”

And she knows he’s right – knows that she needs to get better at this, but money has always been something elusive to her, too difficultly earned, too easily lost, whether through Dean or through her own mistakes and - - sure, it’s not like she’s burying her money in her backyard anymore, but still. She can’t help but feel like this level of stability is temporary, but then - - she looks up at Rio. She thinks about his steady hands, on her hips, on her wrist, gentle against her cheek.

She thinks about them cleaning Jane’s ketchup-covered fingers, thinks about them helping with the buckles on Emma’s shoes or plucking the pencil out of Danny’s fingers to help him with homework, and just - -

“The kids are really happy,” she says. “I think the budget thing makes them feel really grown up.”

Rio looks a little smug at that, but he swallows the grin before it can settle, nods, says:

“Mmm. Marcus won’t stop yappin’ about some coat of your nephew’s too. Danny’s gonna need to watch his back, kid might not wait for him to outgrow it.”

Beth barks on a laugh, surprised, and the look of it all makes Rio grin for real, and just - - god, she loves his smile. Not the smug one, but this one, the one that splits his face into perfect fractions, that gives him crows feet, that shows off his perfect teeth, that somehow just makes him impossibly handsome and never doesn’t leave her breathless, and she thinks of telling him that, but instead she says:

“The cobbler would only re-sole like, four pairs of shoes,” because he’d find out sooner or later, and really she does want to moan about it and she isn’t sure she can wait until coffee with Ruby tomorrow. Rio exhales something that could almost be a laugh.

“So you sayin’ I was right about them?”

Beth rolls her eyes, rolls out a hand too, conceding, but doesn’t say it, and a slight spark of annoyance moves into Rio’s look which makes her feel weirdly vindicated in a way she can’t really help. It’s not like he hasn’t annoyed her for most of the day, but then that thought alone makes her bite the inside of her cheek. She looks back up at him.

“Are we bad at this?”

“How many times I gotta tell you, darlin’? I ain’t bad at nothin’.”

“Please,” she says with a snort. “I’ve seen you burn a pan before you even put anything in it.”

It’s enough to make him make a noise of mock outrage, which gets a giggle out of Beth, and just - - god, how does he do that? How does he infuriate and diffuse and comfort and just - - fix it like that? How does he look at her and figure out exactly what it is that’s ticking inside of her?

She swallows thickly, looking away, but before she can think much more of it, Rio’s speaking again.

“Saw somethin’ I almost bought you,” he tells her, and Beth looks back at him again, gaze flicking across her face, tracing the too-innocent set to his expression, the wetness of his lips, like he’s just licked them, and she arches an eyebrow.

“Let me guess, lingerie?”

Rio’s look of faux outrage returns in force, head shaking, eyes wide in make believe horror.

“Where you think I’ve been takin’ the kids?”

And - - right, Beth thinks, flushing right up to the shells of her ears, which only makes Rio grin. He promptly shrugs.

“Just pyjamas,” he tells her. “Know how much you like ‘em. Don’t think you got any new ones since we moved in together.”

She looks at him, trying to read into his expression, and it is a little too innocent, but it’s also - - innocent, she thinks. Not salacious, and it’s not like he would’ve detoured the kids to anywhere racy, and just - - then she thinks of that sweater she’d seen for him, and the matching one for Marcus, and just - -

“Buy it,” she says, ignoring the little voice in her head that tells her it’ll be too much. “And I’ll buy something for you. It can - - be a new tradition. I mean, it’s the start of the school year for us too.”

And Rio just grins wide at her.

And okay, maybe he doesn’t love the sweater, but Marcus does, practically glowing at the prospect of matching his dad, and she was right about it looking sweet on Marcus and handsome on Rio, the smoky teal somehow making him look all the sharper, the pointed V bringing out the lines of the hawk on his neck.

And he wears it in the afternoon, wears it to bed, pulling out the pyjamas he got her, which are less pyjamas and more nightie which is long, at least, she thinks, giving him an unamused look at the plunging neckline and relatively modest lace bust, but maybe the navy of it brings out her eyes, and the softness of her skin, and maybe it feels good too, the way Rio looks at her in it.

Maybe it feels even better to know it’s the same way he looks at her in her floral blouses and jeans. Maybe it keeps feeling good when Rio’s between her legs, the nightie up around her hips, her knees over his shoulders, ankles scrambling at his back. Maybe it even feels good when Rio sinks his teeth into the inside of her thigh just to make her gasp, and says:

“Gonna need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” she asks breathlessly, back arching off the bed as he teases her entrance with the rough pad of his finger.

“That I was right about the shoes.”

And well, Beth thinks, glancing down at him, letting the challenge rest heavy in her eyes.

“Make me.”

And he does.

A few times.

#beth x rio #beth boland #rio #kenny boland #danny boland #marcus #emma boland #jane boland #my fic #the center and circumference #prompt fills

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laketaj24 · 5 years ago

Note

I sent that Erik threesome one a few months ago . I saw it on that pool and was rooting for it lol but idk what the final results were .

Heyyyyy!!!! I started!! I had to find it lol I’ll write the smut and do the full post this week!

Request: Lol you write amazing smut , So tell me If this is too far . Picture it , lol Erik and 2 chicks looking to get into something freaky. The piece de resistance ? A scene where he cums in one and the other girl licks it out of her . Write the scenario and plot anyway you want lol surprise me !

Ménage

The rain outside had her trapped, usually I would weather it out make a run to a store but when the trash can went floating down the road it was a wrap. I watched from the apartment window with an open mind of thoughts and the first one was why he acting like I am not mad at him?

Erik knew that I was mad. I didn’t have to explain it to him. His insecurities were starting to take their toll on me. “How long are you gonna act like you mad at me?” Erik walked from the kitchen holding food, just for one. It was how he acted when he was mad. He sat on the chaise of the mocha sectional. His feet extended with the plate in his lap. The food smelled like heaven, especially because it was my favorite meal. The tacos were lined up perfectly. But I be damned if I asked for one or even acted like I was okay with him. I had a point to prove.

I moved from the window flicking him a bird before turning into the kitchen. Fuck him.

The patter of the rain reminded me of when we had first started. Days like this I was the little spoon, wrapped in his arms listening to him sing to me or tell me about his old school days. Everything was fresh. Every thing was unblemished and the water of our faults were had not yet tainted what we had. That was then and this was now, and the now was shit.

I whip up ramen. My go to meal for I’m broke, too tired or nostalgia of my college dreams. I know hew heard the microwave. I knew him well enough that he would still be mad I ate something he didn’t cook. But whatever, food was food and I wasn’t about to talk to chipotle.

“It’s food for you in the stove.” He said with his lips in a tight line. His eyebrows were raised as if he was judging me, which he was but once again, what the fuck ever. I grabbed the hot bowl of noodles and walked from the kitchen leaving him to his lonesome. I wasn’t folding. I refused to fold.

I headed to the bedroom locking the door behind me. I had shows to catch up on and met importantly I wasn’t about to give in to him. One second we mad in bed, the next I’m shaking and screaming his name. Not to-fucking-night. The hours pass quickly. I eat, shower and wrap my hair up before realizing my damn phone was in the living room. Operation “Stay the fuck away from Erik” was in danger. I open the door listening to the tv play. Hopefully he was sleep. But I notice quickly he isn’t and the phone is the last place I wanted it to be, lighting up his face while his nosey ass dissects it like it is.

“Give me my phone.”

“So you can text Danni back?” The attitude attached to his voice gave clear warning we were about to fight.

“Danni is a girl you ass.” I snatch the phone away from him and he stands. His face softer than I expected. “What?”

“You texting that shit too Danni?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Leave me alone, go back to your business.”

“You wanna do that shit? Or you just playing?”

“Why are you so nosey?”

“I’m down for a threesome. You never asked. You always say shit is the same, then change it. Call her and tell her to come over.”

“I sure the fuck will not.” I rolled my eyes. The thing about me was that I was “bi-curious.” Women always gained my attention, especially curvy ones, chicks who reminded me that beauty came in every form. Danni was the neighbor, and now she was a coworker. I couldn’t dabble with her. I would be fucked coming home and at work, and I don’t mean the freaky kind. “You’re such a fucking guy you know that. Let it had been a Matthew I was texting and you would have thrown my ass over the balcony.”

“But it wasn’t so why you sitting up here mad?” Erik folded his arms across his chest. The habit of him sitting with no shirt on had been a good one for me because his body was a damn masterpiece. “Aight look, I ain’t tryna fight call her up.”

“Fuck you Erik.”

“I’m trying to get you too. Two women is not a bad thing. You’ll be the main person being worshipped. She like you. Tell her to come on.”

“Goodnight.” And with that I end the conversation. My head shakes and all I can fucking think is, this dude will fucking do anything to get another chick in bed. Four years of the fuckery and he still finding a new way to be an ass.

#erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger smut #erik stevens smut #erik stevens fluff #black panther fan fiction #black panther fandom

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gasstationshane · 4 years ago

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Tales From The DishWasher, Part 1

In a small town, on the north end of main street, on the same side as the dollar store and local ice cream shop, there's a restaurant that is one of the more popular dine in places in town. On the front side, there's a large sign made out of an maroon awning that shades the outdoor tables and chairs for those that want to eat outside or smoke.

On the back side, there's a sign painted on a metal maroon wall with the restaurants name. There's also a lable on the side of the walls that tell you if the doors are for the kitchen or the entrance. If you were to walk in from the back entrance you might wanna make sure your not walking in through the kitchen door. We've had an array of customers that walked in and ended up with a bag of trash falling onto them. One guy even tried suing us because salsa got on his brand new white jeans. Look, even if he didn't see the sign, the door is obviously a kitchen door.

Now if you walked into the actual back entrance, you'd see a small array of arcade machines that were more then likely made in the 90's. The audio from the games faded from years of dust and play time.There's also a small stand of gumball and candy machines, one of the ones where you can get a temporary tattoo for 50 cents each.

A few footsteps and a turn to the right, you'd see the vast open area. Booths to the immediate right and left, a bar on the slightly farther left, tables all scattered around with more booths on the right and left against the walls.

The kitchen area, which would be left at the arcade machines, has a few different sections. The left of where you walk in is the front line cooks area, a grill, friar and a freezer along the front and back as well as countertops with storage cabinets for lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and other toppings or side foods.

On the right of the entrance is the dishwashers station. A shelf and carts for the servers to sit the dirty dishes on, and a big sink with a sprayer and a few different soap options on the wall. There's of course, the washing machine that's usually used just for sanitation purposes.

Behind the dishwasher station is the shelves where the majority of the dishes that aren't plates or bowls are kept. Most of the kitchen employees keep their stuff there so it's out of the way. And finally, behind the front line cooks, are the back line cooks area as well as the walk in cooler and freezer.

In the dishwasher area is where I work. I spend most of my shifts there and only leaving to put away dishes or use the bathroom or even get a drink. Not everything's normal here though, most of the eventful things happening at night when it's just me and whoever is the main cook that night, and the closing bartender.

We've dealt with a pack of stray dogs that live in the old car wash station across from the dumpster. Their friendly though thankfully, begging me for pets and belly rubs after every shift as well as treats. All of them are a mixed breed between a husky and a wolf. I've taken the liberty of naming them all.

There's Yogi, the big grey and brown male who got his name from how much he looks like a bear. Luna, a blue-ish grey and white one, who got her name from the moon shaped crescent spot on her back. Waffle, a all black one with blue eyes, who got his name by sniffing out the waffle's in my bag one day. Then there's Crash, who's red orange-ish fur makes him look similar to the famous video game character.

There's a few pups too that I haven't named yet because I haven't had time to witness their personalities. Luna, the assumed to be mother of the pups, keeps them in the old storage room of the car wash. I've re done the storage room a bit to give them a bed and a few other things to help her take care of them.

I'm thankful that no animal control or pound people have taken them yet. If they tried, I wouldn't hesitate to take them home to keep them safe. The only reason I'm not taking them home now is because they are used to this place and I don't wanna make them uncomfortable. But believe me, the moment I feel like they are danger whether it be animal control, or them needing a vet visit, they'd be in my custody in no time.

And then there's the mysterious bar truck driver, a trucker who is always at the bar, no matter how early we open. The only time he's not there is when we're closed. He's always wearing a hat, flannel, and some form of camo. He drinks so many combinations of alcohol during his visits, it's a miracle he never passes out or hadn't died of alcohol poisoning. He knows all the words to all the songs on the digital bluetooth jukebox. If you ask him, he'll stop drinking long enough to sing a long to a full song of your choice if you buy him a drink.

And then there's the mysterious puddle of water surrounding the water softener and the pump. The puddle almost always fills the area where the tile is broken. No matter what we do, the puddle never goes away, and is a murky grey color. Sometimes it won't be as much water, but we could be closed for a week and the puddle will still be there. It doesn't help that some water that sprays off from the sink or gets spilled can add to the puddle.

I guess what I'm saying is, weird things happen at the patio restaurant in town. Mostly at night. Weird stuff has been happening even before I started working there. I remember a week before my first shift, there was an incident where all the liquors and vodkas to make mixed drinks were stolen, broken, or empty, as well as ate a whole gallon of ice cream. The whole situation could have easily been blamed on one of the bartenders or other employees at the time, but they were closed that day.

T-Dog, the main front line cook that I close with most of the time, thinks that the bar trucker pick pocketed the key and the security alarm code when we closed early one night. That would make sense, since they closed early the night before and he could've needed to make up for a days loss worth of drinks.

If you ask him, T-Dog always has a somewhat reasonable explanation to any weird thing that happens there. "That puddle isn't mysterious.." He told me after I had accidentally stepped in it again and almost fell over.

"The water softener is leaking, but since we run water so much with the sinks, washers, and bathrooms, the leak doesn't have a big impact. You think the owners would fix this shit, but since it's not causing any problems, they ain't touching it just to save them some fucking money." I always made an effort to hear out his explanations. They may or may not be true but it's way better than my theory about the bar trucker peeing on the broken tile. But my theory would explain the weird smell that happens over there, no matter how much we clean over there.

T-Dog isn't the only cook I close with. Some nights it's Danny, or Jack. Jack tends to ignore the weird things happening here. But he's also the cook that doesn't make me do everything I need to do before giving me the okay to leave.

And I know he doesn't do it because Tobias, Toby for short, is the opening cook in the mornings has told me multiple times whenever something doesn't get done. I see Toby once a week when I actually work a morning shift. He's one of the not so serious cooks, and jokes around every now and then. There was one time where acted like he was gonna knock over my drink.

What's kinda funny, about Toby being the not so serious guy around here, he doesn't believe any of the weird things that I've told him about. He thinks it's rumours to get more customers in.

"Shane, that bar trucker is only here for entertainment purposes. We don't have a stage so he just sits and takes his drinks at night to keep the drunks entertained." He explained. Well.. There was one night that Toby closed for the first time. He learned the hard way that the weird things really do happen here that night.

It was around ten thirty, and we were working on finishing our stuff up for the night when we heard a loud crash come from the cooler. "The fuck was that?" He asked. I shrugged.

"Maybe Alex is still cleaning his stuff up." I replied. He shook his head.

"No.. I saw Alex leave almost an hour ago. There's something back there." I finished taking care of the next load of dishes that needed to go in the washer, before following Toby to the walk in cooler. He was carrying a broom to defend us incase there was something that could attack us or scare it away.

We opened the door slowly to see, not one, not two, but three possums in the cooler. They were snacking on our most recent batch of precooked fish sticks. They looked up at us like a kid who had just got caught sneaking out. Toby went to swing the broom to get the mammals out of there, but as he did one of then jumped on the shelves, knocking down the large ice paddle.

It smacked into Toby and made him fall back. When he landed, the force of the fall against one of the shelves, causing a case of beer to fall onto him. Glass shattered, making him covered in glass shards, beer, and blood. Most of them in his legs and chest.

"Gah!" He cried out as he went to pulling some of the glass pieces. I rushed to the shelf where we keep the first aid kit, handing it to him but he smacked at out of my hands.

"Call an ambulance Shane! A first aid kit ain't gonna fix this shit." He yelled with a look of frustration on his face. I sighed and went to the area where the phone was and dialed the number for the station. When I had explained the situation, the man on the other end sounded genuinely confused.

"You said a Possum snuck into your walk in cooler, and made a ice paddle fall onto your co worker, which caused a case of beer to break onto him??" She asked to confirm what I said.

"Umm yeah that's what happened."

"But how would a Possum get into the cooler?" Possums usually never bothered with the busier end of town."

"I have no idea, but that's what happened!" She let out a sigh.

"And which restaurant in town was this again?" Now it was my turn to sigh.

"Darbie's Patio on Main Street..."

"Ooh that place!" She said, realizing who she was dealing with.

"Please hold." She said. I assumed she forwarded the call to the department that takes care of our cases. As much weird shit that happens here, the department has given us a specific branch and a officer to take care of us.

"Hello, this officer Mark here. Who is this?" He asked in his professional cop voice. Mark was the officer assigned to us, being close friends with the owners. Him and the owners have probably seen more weird shit than I have my whole life.

"Hey Mark, it's Shane Redfield from Darbies Patio. There was an accident with a few possums in the cooler, and now Toby is covered in glass shards." I briefly explained.

"Hang tight, I'll be there with an ambulance in five minutes or less. If there's any big chucks of glass in him, do not let him take it out. If he bleeds out before he can get to the hospital, that's bad news." I thanked him, hung up the phone and stayed with Toby while we waited. The bartender brought us both a drink. He took a long sip before looking back at me.

"Hey Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"..Does weird shit like this happen all the time...?"

To be... Continued

#tales from the dishwasher #tftgs fan blog #dishwasher shane #darbies patio #shane redfield #shane from darbies

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thehoneyxbadger · 5 years ago

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she’s got claws

Gabby tries to help a mutant out of control. Slade and Colleen arrest a young mutant vigilante.

DATE: 22nd March 2020 FEATURING: @deathfxrhire @dragonsdefender MENTIONED: WARNINGS: violence, suicide, blood, injury

GABBY: Gabby knew that the Accords meant she should be careful. But she felt she had these abilities and she could use them to help people. Or find those who'd been hurting people and deal with them herself. Tonight she was responding to a mutant who was using their powers to terrorise. Screams of terror echoed as fire seemed to go after one or two people. But looking at the attacker, this was more likely to be an act of distraught revenge. Gabby didn't want the poor mutant, who seemed to only be a teenager who was lost and losing control --Probably retaliating against someone who hurt them. Gabby knew that feeling-- to end up arrested for that.

So she intervened, taking advantage of her healing factor to get close enough to get to the kid and calm them down. Holding them tight, she managed to get them to stop, showing them her own claws to get them to trust her. "Come on," she told them. "We should get you out of here."

COLLEEN: Patrols were different with a partner. Especially one like Slade who wanted to make money doing this. She never really talked to him about whether or not he agreed with the Accords - but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know where he stood. (And as much as she was there to make sure that he was trustworthy, his presence there made Colleen stick to the rules as well... equal enforcement.) But tonight, Colleen glanced down an alley and saw - what was that? Knives? No. Those were claws. She reached over and hit Slade’s arm with the back of her hand gently to grab his attention - but hopefully not the two people in the alley.

Colleen glanced at Slade and motioned towards the two people. “You see what I’m seeing?” She asked in a whisper, working her jaw before shaking her head. She hated going after kids, but there was no pretending that this young woman wasn’t dangerous. “Let’s go. Maybe they’ll surrender.” But there was a dark feeling twisting in Colleen’s stomach. It was never that easy - but she hoped it would be. They were just kids.

SLADE: As far as partners went, Wing was better than he could have gotten. While he'd worked as part of a team in the Army, it's been a long time since those days--since he'd been betrayed by the very people he once counted as family. His last job with a partner had been Madripoor, and that had rather soured the entire prospect of working as a team even more than it already had been. As it went, though, Colleen was smarter than average and skilled as hell with the kitana she carried, even if her talking could border on lecturing like a mother hen every once in a while. Better useful but irritating than dead weight, as far as he was concerned. And she was useful.

The screams had drawn their attention from a few blocks away, and Slade was on the lookout for anyone trying to make their escape when Colleen pinpointed the source down the alley. "I see 'em." Kids. Slade had no problem fighting kids--hell, the bloody Teen Titans were amongst his biggest pains in the neck. "Claws like those? Doubt it," he murmured, hand already sliding towards his belt. Especially if she was related to the more famous clawed mutant with the X-Men. "But I'll let you play good cop if you want." He was very good at bad cop.

He leads the way, anyway, down the alleyway, until both kids' heads snap up in their direction.

GABBY: Gabby was trying to keep the teenager calm enough that they could get out of here before any Enforcers showed up. Because they would show up. After a show like that, it'd be stupid to think they wouldn't. And here she was, a masked hero and clear mutant. Not to mention that this kid had just shown themselves to be potentially dangerous. But they needed help, not to be arrested. Except...

Gabby's head snapped up before the kid's, her enhanced senses alerting her within of the footsteps while they were still a while away. She straightened up, about to try to hide her claws. But it was too late for that; the way these two moved screamed to her that this was going to be a fight. Her heckles were raised immediately. "We just want to go home," she said, putting the kid behind her. It wouldn't hide them--Gabby was far too short for that-- but it might shield them. "We don't want a fight."

COLLEEN: He was right. Which was more annoying that Colleen would care to admit - he was her partner and all she could think about right now was that him having a point annoyed her. But she kept it in. Her dark eyes focused on the girl with the claws as she followed Slade, just a step behind him. Not because she was letting him lead - but he had a presence, and Colleen was hoping that having his muscle out on display would push the kids back.

And that Colleen could talk them into surrendering.

That was the idea at least. And when the young woman said they just wanted to go home - Colleen felt for them, but they couldn’t. “Then don’t fight,” Colleen said, stepping so that she was right beside Slade. “Put those away,” she instructed, motioning downward with her hand slowly, “and surrender. If you don’t want to fight, prove it.”

SLADE: Fuck's sake.

Slade had never done hostage negotiation in the field--he'd always been the one they sent in when negotiation seemed to be going sideways. He was good at talking, don't get him wrong--he'd talked his fair share of kids down from hyperventilating themselves halfway to unconsciousness, or kids who decided their service weapon was looking more and more friendly.

This, what Colleen was trying to do, he didn't have the patience for. The energy before a fight was practically crackling, and there was no doubt in Slade's mind that the girl wasn't going to go down easy. But he let her play the good cop. Saw the answer on the girl's face immediately.

Bad cop it was. "Look, kid. You're not going home. You can put the claws away and make everyone's life much easier, or you can not, and make my life much more fun but risk your little friend here getting hurt. You come in, you sign some papers, maybe you go home. Make yourself a danger, and that ain't gonna happen."

GABBY: If it were just her, Gabby's mind would be made up. She would fight her way out. But with a boy behind her who couldn't be more than thirteen... Well, that changed things. She slowly began to straighten up from where she'd been poised to fight, until she felt a hand on her arm. "No. Please! I can't go with them." Gabby sighed. A fight it was then.

"Afraid I can't do that," she replied to the man. "How about option C? We leave here so we can all make it home in time to watch some trash tv tonight. I think the new season of the Bachelor is on. Or is it the Bachelorette?" Gabby gave a sly grin, but her eyes were taking quick stock of her opponents. She couldn't rely on the kid to help. But Gabby had been trained her whole life to fight. "You get out of here, quickly, once you can," she murmured under her breath to him. "Get ready."

COLLEEN: Don’t fight. That was what Colleen wanted to tell this kid, that it would all be fine. She couldn’t make any promises that it would be fine, but she had to believe that there was a path forward that wasn’t all handcuffs and collars. (And it was hard to see a future like that when shit like this kept happening. And now it was kids.) “Option C sounds great and all,” Colleen shook her head. “But that’s not happening.” Slade went hard but Colleen couldn’t say that he was wrong — she hated it. But he was right. They couldn’t play this soft.

She took a step forward, and the second she did, the kid the one with claws was protecting bolted. Colleen barely glanced at Slade, wondering if he could read her as well as Danny could — if he knew that she was going to chase the other kid before she did it — wondering if there was any sort of understanding between them.

They were about to find out.

Colleen chased after the kid who had run off, her hand on the hilt of her weapon. She managed to close the distance quickly, grabbing the kid by the shirt and slamming them into the wall. “Stop running!” Colleen yelled, twisting the kid's arm behind their back to pacify them.

SLADE: The girl was admirably confident, he'd give her that--dishing out sarcasm even in the face of two Enforcers, even backed against the wall. You didn't get that confident without some practice, in Slade's experience, which meant she knew how to use those claws.

Dangerous, for sure, even in a small little package like that.

There was a moment of silence where they all sized each other up, waited to see who'd make the first move. Slade was delighted to find it to be Colleen. Less delighted at the way the little brat Claws was protecting bolted, but he could see the way Colleen's weight shifted as if to take after him even before she started running.

Which meant he got Claws. All the better. In a fraction of a second, he'd drawn one of the swords from his back and sidestepped between the girl and the side street the kid and Colleen had darted down. He had the reach advantage, here, and presumably the strength, but he wasn't taking anything for granted.

He caught the way her eyes shot down the street to where Colleen had the other kid pinned, brandished his sword a little more aggressively. "I really wouldn't, kid. C'mon, don't go makin me do something you'd regret. My friend there ain't about hurtin' kids, but I will hurt you if you make me."

GABBY: Gabby wasn't panicking despite the odds being against her. She'd been in enough fights in her short life to keep her head. But apparently the kid behind her hadn't. He took her advice a bit early and bolted, with one of the enforcers giving chase. Gabby watched in horror as he was twisted against the wall. "Hey! He's just a kid!" A kid without experience in this kind of thing to boot.

Claws out, she glared at Slade as he made threats. "Good luck with that," she retorted. She pulled her nun chucks from her belt to give her a better range--though he still had size advantage on her--and swung them hard and fast towards him. Only it was mostly a distraction, with Gabby's true intentions to merely pass the man, not attack him. As such, she used the wall to push off and get height, launching herself towards Colleen with a yell in a way she hoped would startle her into letting go of the teenager.

COLLEEN: It was a rookie mistake, turning her back on the other kid, even if she trusted that Slade would step up. He might have given her grief at every turn, but when it came down to situations like this? Slade was more focused on success than she was. (Colleen suspected it was about the money — but even so, that was reason enough that she could trust him out here.) Colleen’s grip on the kid changed when the one with claws shouted before leaping towards her. When she looked at the girl lunging towards her, the only thing she could think about was BB. How he had tried to reason with his friends and show them that Davos was wrong and evil but ended up bloodied on and on the ground.

This girl, she was just trying to do what she thought was right too. And the way she was moving — it was like she was okay if that cost her everything. Hell, it reminded Colleen of herself on some level. But there was no time for Colleen to try and talk this down again. And... if the choice was between Colleen’s life and this stranger’s? Colleen was going to choose herself. Colleen pulled her hand away from the teen she had pressed against the wall, her reflexes taking over as she pulled out her katana and braced herself for impact. “It doesn’t have to be like this — think about it — you can still stop. You keep going and I won’t be able to stop him.” Maybe that didn’t scare this kid... but it should.

SLADE: He threw his arm up to block the nunchuks, the impact scarcely even noticeable with his armor and his abilities, and turned to follow her movements as she lunged toward Colleen.

The other kid bolted as soon as Colleen turned to get her katana up, but Slade didn't pay a damn bit of mind to the kid as he slipped off into the dark. This one was the prize.

And when Colleen's warning didn't get the girl to let up, Slade would. Part of his reputation was his focus--his machine-like ability to put all of his attention on a task and complete it as if programmed to do it, come hell or high water.

Three thoughts went through his mind in short succession: firstly, that at least one of them was going to get hurt with so many blades out. Secondly, that it could not be Colleen--without regenerative powers, what damage she sustained would be a problem. Thirdly, that this kid seemed an awful lot like the Wolverine, and on balance, that meant she was apt to have the same regenerative abilities. And if it was him or the brat that needed to get hurt? Simple choice.

For a man of his stature, he's fast, thanks to the serum in his veins, and so he's crossed to the fight going on between the two girls in moments, his own katana driving the blade through skin and muscle at the kid's thigh before he finally pulls the swing just short of breaking bone.

The moment of shock, from both women, gives Slade opportunity to grab the kid by the scruff of her neck and yank her away from Colleen, throwing her onto the ground and dropping down with a knee to her back before she can try and push up. "If those claws don't go back into your hands now, kid," he warned, "you're getting a sword to the hands to keep them down, you understand me?"

Colleen's starting to protest the rough treatment, looks mad, but by the time he tunes back in, he's not inclined to let her ramble. "If you'd rather I let her up to gut you, just say the word, Colleen. Otherwise, I don't wanna fucking hear it. She's old enough to be running kids, she's old enough to fuckin know when to quit. Get a goddamned collar on her."

GABBY: Gabby's nunchucks collide with the katana hard, as she lands on the ground. The kid has run off, seemingly allowed to by the two Enforcers. Only now she stood between them. A vulnerable position to say the least. Gabby had to move quickly--something she was good at. But as fast as she moved, the man seemed to keep up. Her small stature normally meant that speed was her advantage, but something must help this man be this fast. Exactly what didn't matter to her right now. Especially as she doesn't heed Colleen's warning at all.

She turned, a split second too slow. The blade sliced through her flesh like butter, in a move that ought to have Gabby screaming in pain. Instead, as blood began to spill, Gabby's shock came from how deep the slice had gone. Almost to the bone, he'd cut her tendons and muscle in a way that--however temporarily--slowed her down too much. All it would take to lose this fight was a mere second slower. This wasn't some cop-turned-Enforcer. This was an assassin, trained to kill and butcher with skilled precision and no remorse, he had to be.

With his weight pressing on his knee against her back, Gabby knew this fight is over. She could feel her leg beginning to stitch itself back together already, and she was thinking how once it did she could escape or fight again. Until she heard that word that sent dread through her. Collar. Without it, she would still have her training, but no extra strength or healing. Abilities she'd come to rely on because she'd barely known a world without them. Her claws slowly sink back into her hands.

Still, just because Gabby was down, didn't mean she was out. "What even is your deal anyway!? Surely there's better things to do than attack some kid who lost control of his powers?"

COLLEEN: The other kid was gone in the blink of an eye. And maybe she should have been concerned about that — that the kid would come back with help — or that Slade and Colleen might get ambushed later... but there wasn’t time to let any of those thoughts float to the surface. Not when she had an angry kid with claws who wanted to stab her. The claws collided with her katana, and Colleen moved defensively, not swinging at the girl. She didn’t want to actually harm her, despite having every reason to.

She had done this dance too many times before. She had done this dance for the Hand before. Finding troubled kids and trying to find even ground with them — recruiting them into a new and better life. But this time she wasn’t offering a safe place. No college fund. No reprieve from what was happening around them. Though, when she brought them to the Hand... she had no idea what she was really bringing them into. It was the good Hand. That was what Bakuto told her. That this was different — that they were different. But it was the same bullshit, just hidden behind a different — a charming smile. At least as an enforcer, there was no pretending that what she was doing was leading them down a path that they’d enjoy.

But it was hard to see the good parts of enforcing when she was facing off against a girl who couldn’t have been more than eighteen. It was even harder when she heard Slade’s voice, as he had the girl on the ground. (He had stabbed through her leg, and Colleen had gotten lost in something else — something that she had thought she was over. Time was supposed to heal all wounds... but time didn’t do shit for regret.)

This moment, it wasn’t so easy though. Nothing was quite black and white anymore. (Had it ever been? Really?) Her eyes snapped upwards to Slade, the frown on her face settling, as if that were her only expression. “Fuck off.” Two words came out of her mouth so bitter and angry — and she wasn’t even mad at him. She was mad at herself. For her hesitation. For the conflict in her own heart. But still, Slade kept opening his mouth — kept pushing her... Colleen took in a breath, reminding herself of the teachers her grandfather had instilled upon her. Self-control. One of the tenants of the Bushido Code.

Kneeling down next to the girl, Colleen secured a collar around her neck. But as she fastened it, she heard the words — what was her deal? Colleen clenched her jaw and took in a sharp breath. “I wouldn’t worry about him,” Colleen finally said. “He didn’t attack enforcers — he lost control and there is a system he can go through to get help — but you...” Colleen paused, still kneeling next to her. “Were you going to kill me?”

SLADE: Colleen could get pissy all she wanted, but they both knew he was right. Compassion and mercy got you hurt, got you killed, in this line of work. Colleen could feel how she wanted about kids or about the job--god knew he had his own thoughts--but you needed to put those in a box and do the goddamned job while you were out in the field where hesitation could be a death sentence.

As soon as the claws were retracted, he closed his hands around the girl's wrists, drawing them up behind her back and closing cuffs around them as Colleen finished putting on the collar. The skin knitting itself back together at the girl's thigh stopped, and Slade squinted at the wound for a moment before deciding she'd be fine to base. The bleeding had more or less stopped, at least.

And then--fuckin hell. Colleen was trying to comfort the little brat. Slade snorted, rolling off and then dragging the girl up by her shoulders. "You just can't help yourself, can you, Wing?" It didn't matter whether the girl had tried to kill her or not--she hadn't gotten the chance, she had fought, and now she was under arrest. Could have beens didn't matter.

What mattered was now. "Think if I give her to you for two seconds you can manage to keep 'er here while I see if the kid is hiding out nearby?" He didn't wait for an answer before shoving Gabby at Colleen and starting down the alley, beginning a swift but methodical search for the boy.

GABBY: Gabby couldn't believe she'd been reckless enough to get caught. Maybe if the kid had actually stuck to the plan, or if the Enforcers hadn't clearly been so well trained, she'd be scot free right now. But maybe thinking about that was pointless anyway. They'd got her, they had her pinned to the ground and a collar around her neck. Which meant that if they actually decided to hurt her, or kill her, she wouldn't just bounce back. It had been a long time for Gabby since her injuries took a normal time to heal--she wasn't used to thinking like that.

She couldn't care less about the fighting between the two Enforcers, but when the woman knelt next to her and told her not to worry about the kid, she rolled her eyes. But it was the last question that made Gabby freeze. "No. I just wanted to scare you," she replied, honestly. If she'd wanted to actually kill the woman, she could've tried. But she didn't. "I didn't want to kill anyone."

As the man dragged her to her feet, Gabby could feel that her injured leg was still weak. At least it had healed enough to walk on now, just. It'd probably start bleeding again if she tried that for too long, but Gabby shrugged that off as she stumbled towards Colleen. Instead, she glared at the man as he went searching for the kid. If the kid was smart though, he'd be miles away by now. Gabby, on the other hand, was mildly screwed.

#c:slade #c:colleen #tw suicide #tw violence #tw injury #tw blood

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blackpantherismyish · 6 years ago

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Ring (Part I)

Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black! Reader

Song: Ring: Cardi B ft Kehlani

Summary: You and Erik grew up together, people always saying you both would make a great couple. After years of denial you both finally decided to admit it and try it out. It was great at first but his career path started to take over his life, to the point of borderline insanity. You two split and he went into the military and never contacted again. Recently one of your good friends booked a show gig at a local club and she wanted you to be apart of it.

Word Count: I'll add this when I post the second part

Warning(s): Fluff, Cursing

A/N: Basically what i’m doing with this song, Y/N and her are making the song instead of Cardi and Kehlani. Also, as i started writing this, i realized i was going to have to split it up into several part.

Song: Ring: Cardi B ft Kehlani

| Flashback to Middle School |

“Have you got your game set up the way you wanted it?” You poked Erik in his side as you walked to lunch.

“Nah, not yet. I have to find all my cords ‘cause i got a new TV yesterday.” He adjusted his necklace walking beside you.

“Ooooh” You bounced on your toes coming in front of him. “How big is this one?” You were walking backwards at this point.

“You’re gonna trip.” He chuckled. “But it’s a 52” smart tv”

“Somebody fancy.” You poked at his chest. Rolling his eyes he shook his head.

“Whatever. Would you just turn around and walk like a normal person before you fall. “ As if he predicted fate, you bumped into a trash can and fell to the floor. Laughing, Erik looked down at you.

“See, I told you so.” He spoke through laughter. You couldn’t help it and you started laughing as well.

“Shut up and Help me up, Jackass.” He gasped dramatically putting a hand on his chest.

“Oh I’m a Jackass now?” He bend down to look you in the face. “Welp, looks like you wont be getting up with any help from me.” he smirked, standing back up. Walking away, he could here you shuffling to your feet quickly.

“ERIK STEVENS!” You yelled running after him. As he was laughing, you jumped on his back, causing him to stumble slightly. After catching his balance he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Girl you almost made me bust my ass.” His eyebrows scrunched up.

“That’s what you get for leaving me on the floor.”

“I told you-”

“I WISH Y’ALL LOVE BIRDS WOULD DATE ALREADY!” One of his friends shouted as he entered the cafeteria with you on his back.

Rolling his eyes, he let you down. “Bruh, i wish you would shut up.” He stood behind you after you sat down.

“He got a bird chest, i don’t date guys with chests like a 5 year old’s.”

You heard a echo of ‘OOOOOOH’s” from his friends all the way down the table.

“I gotchu for that.” He flicked your forehead.

Rolling your eyes, you got up and followed him to grab your lunch.

Later on that day, you and Erik walked to his house from the bus stop.

“Now you know i was kidding about the chest thing right?” You nudged him slightly.

Putting his arm over your shoulder, he chuckled. ‘i think you were serious. You just don't want me to do anything to you.”

“NUH UH!” You protested. “Boy i ain't afraid of you.” You shoved him slightly but he didn’t budge.

Laughing, he looked at you and let a small smile press through his lips, ‘Yeah, i know you weren't serious. You think i would have invited you over if i thought you were serious?”

You looked back at him, “Probably not… Now that i think of it.”

You both approached his front door and he took out his keys and unlocked it. Being the gentleman he was he let you in first.

“So, is it in your game room or your bedroom?” Yes, he had a gameroom. It was something he begged his parents for ever since you guys were little. And they finally got it last year.

“Game room, of course.” Taking his bookbag off, he reached out for yours and you handed it over.

“I don’t know why i asked, your room is so messy. You can barely see the floor. “

“I’ve cleaned it since then!” he shouted down the hallway as you walked into the game.

“How clean Erik?” You poked your head back out.

“All the trash it out and the clothes are pushed into one corner.” he put a hand on his hip. You just scoffed and went back into the room. Pulling up one of his computer chairs, you pulled the TV box over to you. You heard him rustling around in the kitchen but paid it no mind. You took your keys out of your pocket and cut open the box, taking the TV out. Hooking wires and cords up to the TV, he entered the room.

“Did you bring me any?” You spoke without looking up to see exactly what he had.

“You don’t even know what i have.” He pulled up a chair next to you.

“I don’t need to know. We’re basically the same person. We like the same foods. We always have. You tried to steal my pizza in elementary school because yo’ fatass ate all yours.” You finally looked up to see him eating a ham sandwich. Reluctantly, he handed you the second one in his hand.

“Oh yeah. Cause you shared and that’s how we became friends.” You took a bite out of the sandwich and nodded.

“You got it hooked up yet?” He was talking with his mouth full. He knew you hated that. Glared over your shoulder at him, he grinned.

“Almost…” you sat the sandwich down and got on the floor to hook up the last cords. “There. Your new TV is now hooked up.”

Grabbing the remote, he chuckled. “Thaaaanks.”

“Mhm.” You hummed with your mouth full of bread.

“Sooooo…” You heard his voice run off.

“So?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever thought about it?” you had the slightest clue as to what he was talking about.

“About what Erik?” You stuffed your last piece of sandwich in your mouth.

“Us dating.” Those two words nearly made you choke.

Swallowing your sandwich before you could finish chewing, you stared up at him. He was serious. Hearing you gulp, he looked down, his face plastered with regret.

You saw his demeanor change. It was pointless for you to keep your feelings to yourself at this point.

“All the time.” You spoke lowly, you saw his head lift up and tilt to the side.

“Really?” he paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?’

“Cause i didn’t want to ruin what we have, Erik.” You sighed deeply.

“What makes you think it would change?”

“Because that’s what always happens. Two friends start dating, it doesn’t work out, they break up and it’s never the same.”

“We wouldn’t be like that.’ he sat down on the floor in front of you.

“And how do you know that, huh?”

“Because i know us.” He spoke softly, grabbing your hands. “Look at me, Y/N.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting his dark brown orbs.

“We can try…” You whispered, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder.

Years go by. You both were in highschool now.

You and Erik were inseparable. You were always on his arm and he was always under you. You didn’t go anywhere, where Erik didn’t follow close behind.

“I fucking called it!” You heard the same friend who called you both love birds back in middle school, Danny.

He sat down in front of you and Erik who were sitting at the lunch table located under a tree. Erik with his arms around you and his head on your shoulder. You rubbed through his shirt dreads. You had convinced him to grow them out in the recent months.

“Yes. And you have reminded us everytime it came across your mind" Erik lifted his head from your shoulder slightly.

“Okay then, when you gone have kids?” You stopped rubbing Erik’s head.

“Uh" You glanced at Erik then back at Danny.

“Not right now..” you put your hand over Erik’s. “Yeah we're still in high school. “

Danny blew raspberries.

“Mhm, well I got to go to class. Don't have sex under the tree.” He yelled walking off.

“SHUT UP Danny!” You yelled back leaning on Erik. “He's talking about kids and we haven't even…” you stopped. Erik’s hand caressing your leg.

“Don't worry about him… We will when its it's our time.” He assured you, kissing your cheek. You nodded, looking up at him.

“I love you" You spoke softly.

“And I love you.” He rested his forehead on yours and smiled.

| End of Flashback |

You snapped out of your thoughts when your good friend, Amber, clapped her hands in front of you. You were working on one of her songs that she planned on dropping with her upcoming EP. You were honored that she would want you to sing on the track. You had been writing lyrics for a couple months now, so this was the perfect opportunity. Startled, you looked at her.

“You ready?” She pointed to the studio booth with the two mics set up. You nodded standing up, following her inside the booth.

_______

Taglist: @panthergoddessbast @sweetsexysavagery @blackpanthersmut @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakanda-4evr @wakandas-vibranium @hearteyes-for-killmonger @killmongersgurl @dreamingoftchalla @drsunshine97 @thehomierobbstark

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the-half-ghost-kid-hero-rp · 6 years ago

Note

"You're tough, but I'll break you!"

“You’re tough, but I’ll break you!” the man shouted, slamming Danny into the brick alley wall as his comrades jeered from behind. The boy bounced back with a growl, hands catching and deflecting the meaty ones of his attacker, clawing and defending himself. One hostile fist broke free, however, and five steel knuckles collided with Danny’s temple, sending the boy reeling to one side.

“Tell me what you know!” the man demanded, grabbing a handful of shirt and yanking Danny back upright. The boy’s arms raised to defend his face and head from another attack and he braced for the punch his silence would get him.

This one landed in the crook of his jaw, nearly dislocated the bone and tearing apart his inner ear with the force of it.

“I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Danny hissed back, blinking and gasping. If he ever wondered what it would be like to get into a full out fist fight with his father, he certainly didn’t have to now. The man rivaled Jack Fenton in size and strength, except Jack’s genteel nature was replaced with a pair of heavy duty brass knuckles and a streak of punch first, ask later. It was really getting on Danny’s nerves.

“And I told you that won’t work!” the man yelled again, rearing back for another world-spinning punch. Danny was faster though, and dropped suddenly, letting the wall take the blow. The brick cracked and the boy slipped away. Years of being the runt had trained him well to use his small size to his advantage. He broke free from the hold in the confusion and bolted toward the alley’s entrance, trampling freshly bought produce and medical supplies as he went.

One of the men, the one he had head butted early, stepped in his path, but Danny knew every back alley in Amity Park as good as his own room. He knew the exact location of the trash can, next to the dumpster, next to the fire escape with the busted ladder. Two strides and he’d be home free.

What he didn’t know, however, was that vomit had made the trash can slippery and the man with the broken nose had a wingspan longer than a gorilla’s. He grabbed Danny firmly by the back of his jacket and wrist, turned, and threw the boy down to his awaiting friends.

Danny tripped and stumbled, sliding along the dirty ground. He grabbed a can of fried beans and caught the first guy off guard, but the one with the two pronged fork was more than ready for his assault of fresh spinach. The weapon sizzled with electricity, exploding the bag and frying any bit of leaf it touched. Danny froze when it almost landed on his throat. Knowing better than anyone the effects of an electric shock, he surrendered, panting and sore. They forced him to stand, shoving him back against the wall he had just escaped from. Fork Man came too, pinning Danny’s arm out to the side with his hands, the cackling weapon held inches from it.

“So you’re not only a tough guy, but a stupid one too, huh?” Brass Knuckles teased, affectionately rubbing his brass knuckles.“You know what they say about people who run?”

Danny’s blue and faintly glowing green eyes darted from him to the man with the knife still embedded into his arm. He clenched his uninjured fist and prepared for what he knew was going to happen next.

“They have excellent cardio and clearly care about their physical health!” he hissed as the fork was lowered near his skin, the live current scorching the tender flesh. He already knew it had several power settings, and yet it was burning his arm by just being near it.

“Tell us what we want to know, runt!” Brass Knuckles demanded again and punched Danny square in the sternum. Great, as if he didn’t have enough to worry about - now this guy was trying to give him heart palpitations.

“Alright!” he shouted. “Alright, I’ll tell you. Just stop!”

The fork was removed but the hands holding him in place didn’t. All he wanted to do was rub the burn away, try to sooth it somehow far away from the prickly brick wall he was being held to. But at least he had bought a moment of peace. He knew it wouldn’t last.

“The… the truth is… People who run don’t care about their well being at all! They all secretly hate themselves and like to suffer because of it!” he hissed as the weapon’s power was turned up, scorching his already abused arm even worse. “The average marathon is 26.2 miles! The half is only half of that!”

Annoyed, Fork Man removed the weapon only to stab it forcefully into the wall, pinning Danny’s arm between the two electrified prongs. The boy howled in pain, turning his head away and clamping his eyes shut as waves of condensed lightning tore through his arm, searing his flesh and muscles.

“Stop being such a tough guy!” Brass Knuckles demanded, planting one meaty hand on the side of Danny’s head. “Tell us what we want to know!” Growling, he squeezed, trapping Danny against the wall.

“I don’t know, alright!” Danny begged, liquid fire leaking from his eyes. The pain was too familiar. Too close to home. “Please..! I’m just a kid!”

“Alright, Lou! You did it,” the man who had been untouched except for the can of beans finally spoke up, cackling as he called off his buddy.

Suddenly the pain was replaced with laughter and Danny was dropped to the ground like so much dead weight. He was shaking and crying and confused - why were they laughing? Why did they stop? What did he do?

“Yeah that was really something,” Fork Man laughed, pulling out a pocket watch. “Seven and a half minutes!”

Brass Knuckles - Lou - groaned. “Oh - seven and a half?” Disappointed, he gave Danny one last kick in the ribs for good measure. “Dave, you sure you started that thing on time?”

Fork Man - Dave - nodded. “Soon as we started following him.”

The man with the broken nose, who sounded like he had all but forgotten that his nose was broken, was laughing. “And you said you could do it in five!” he teased. “You owe us a round, you slob!”

“I ain’t no slob! I’m a professional!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Nose Man laughed, shaking his head.

Danny’s mind reeled, tuning out the rest of their conversation. This had all been over a bet? A bet about what?

Beans was talking again: “There goes Lou Despat! The great professional who can get kids to cry in eight minutes flat! Or your money back!” he announced, much to the humor of the rest of the group.

“And grown men in under fourteen!” Dave added cheerily.

Lou shrugged. “What, that?” he asked, waving at Danny’s crumbled form. “Alright, I’ll admit, not my best work. Jus’ remember who holds the record though!”

“Three minutes!” they sang. Still laughing, the men turned to leave, stomping on the innocent groceries in their path. Lou, however, stopped, taking one last look at his prize laying in a heap on the dirty ground.

“Cost me a round with the boys,” he muttered angrily. Bringing one foot back, he prepared for one last rib splitting kick. “Stupid tough guy punk!”

The kick didn’t land. With a scream, a crack, and a bright flash of light, Lou Despat was suddenly laying on the dirty ground, cradling his mercilessly destroyed ankle and weeping in pain.

“Lou! Lou!” the men screamed, rushing back to his aid. Before they could reach him, though, he slipped through the ground, disappearing into the cracked concrete. “What the–” they asked, but were cut off by another blood curling scream and THUD and Lou slammed into the ground behind them, his massive size effectively blocking off their escape route.

“Three minutes is the record, huh?” an otherworldly voice spoke, echoing from every crack and shadow around them. The area grew dark, all sharp edges taking on an ethereal glow as their little window into the sky seemed to warp.

Suddenly, two glowing green eyes blinked open behind them and the voice found a source:��“Let’s see if we can’t beat that. But don’t worry; I won’t stop when you’re crying.”

Asked by anon for the sentence meme (torture my character version)

Got a question for the muse or mod? Ask away!

#@ prompts #@ answered prompts #Danny Phantom

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quantumnius · 6 years ago

Text

Animal Control

That call came in the same way all the others did. Some old lady panicking about the creepy crawlies moving into to her house. You’d be surprised how much more they all screamed and shouted about the rats and mice than they ever did about the big stuff. Rats were easy. The real problems down here, this far south, were snakes and gators. This old lady had one of the real problems. But that’s my job, so I guess, that makes me the real solution.

I could have used an easier call to start the day. The night before had me feeling like a train wreck. I still smelled like damn coors light after brushing my teeth three times. I wasn’t even hungover, but my wife Lauren had made sure I didn’t get a wink of sleep. She just yelled and yelled and yelled about the trash I hadn’t taken out, and all the beer I drink, and the house we lived in, and everything else she could think of. Her voice kept playing on in my head as I got ready for work. “Why can’t you help me make this work, Danny. I can’t do this all by myself!” One bag of trash and an empty case of beer had set her off , and then the first thing I have to deal with is a goddamn gator.

Don’t get me wrong. I like my job. It gets a little crazy every once in a while, but I get a good chunk of change every month, and it definitely ain’t no cubicle job. Besides I’d handled worse calls earlier in the morning. This particular call came in about a big ol’ gator lounging around in a suburban pool. People down here in Florida love their pools, and so do these damned gators.

August was coming on strong, but it was still hot enough to cook an egg on the asphalt. The trees that usually stood up tall all sagged with the weight of the thick heavy air. The swamp that is central Florida was green for miles except for the rusty red of roadkill. This dead raccoon lying near the median looked just like Lauren’s meatloaf, probably smelled just more appetizing. I really hope I didn’t get any of the raccoon-loaf on my tires She’s home all day, she could cook something half-way decent, but it’s always meatloaf. Just thinking about the smell turned my stomach. Usually a beer would calm it back down, but I couldn’t afford some cop catching me with another open container.

I rolled down my windows to let the wind in. The only times the air feels cool this time of the year is when you’re driving with the windows down. This was one of the best perks of my job. Folding myself back into the big pillowy seats of the huge animal control truck and watching the world roll out in front of my tires. The slim black road ahead of me looked just like one of those small black bush snakes winding through the trees. I followed it as it slithered up to the pastel pink and blue suburbs. I drove slow as I passed house after house that looked almost identical, counting down the numbers on the mailboxes to know where I was going.

Lauren would want to buy a house here. This was the kind of place she loved, but I wasn’t going to hear anymore of it. This place made my skin crawl and my spine stand on edge. I could feel the ridges of my back push into the seat behind me. This place didn’t feel natural out here in the middle of swampland. I started counting address numbers again, and realized that I had almost missed the bright pink house that matched the address dispatch had given me.

I turn into the driveway, park, and pop open my door. Right as I stepped out onto the lawn a woman rushed out from the front door. “Thank god you’re here!” she said. A small dog jumped up at the door behind her. I don’t know how such a small dog can be so loud, but damn If I lived next door I’d have to kill it. At least Lauren hated those yip dogs too. The chick, whose name was drowned out by the constant barking, showed me around to the other side of the house where her pool was.

The backyard was pretty trashed. The fence around the yard had an alligator sized hole broken out of it. There was a pretty clear set of tracks pointing to the screen around the pool. You wouldn’t need the tracks though. The alligator was just lounging in the water by the edge of the pool. Grab him a beer and some sunglasses and he looked like somebody I’d hang out with. I guessed he was about five feet long, not really all that big compared to the other gators I handled, but he was heavy and in the pool he was fast.

First things first, I blocked of the hole in the fence so that he didn’t go out for a jog around the neighborhood. I sent the lady back into the house out of the way. Just like the suburbs weren’t no place for a gator, catching a gator was no place for people from the suburbs. I was going to need people that knew what they were doing to help me get this job done. I radioed in for two more animal control agents to drive on out. While they were on there way I started getting ready. There were only two things I needed before I was ready to take on the gator. The first was my snatch stick. If I were a cowboy, it’d be my lasso. In my hands the cord at the end of its six foot long pole could shut the gators mouth and keep him from using any of his shiny teeth. My other tool was called a gator thumper. If the gator got too ornery and we couldn’t capture it the thumper would crush its skull with a heavy metal baton shot out by a spring. I made my way back to the pool with my gear.

The patio was big, maybe twenty-twentyfive feet across. The pool was dead in the center, long and deep. The pool water wasn’t moving at all as the gator floated out to the middle. I took that chance to walk around the patio and get in position for when my help arrived. It’d be easy to pull the gator out with three of us. I’d be able to by myself, but better safe than sorry. The lady knocked on her sliding glass door behind me and opened just a crack. She had her eyes fixed on the gator but she was talking to me. “please be careful on my porch; the plants I keep out there are fragile.” So I looked over and said “Is there anything we need to move before we start throwing the three hundred pound alligator around on your porch?” I didn’t expect her to say yes or to ask me to move the Hydrangeas inside. I don’t even know what the hell a hydrangea is. I just picked up the pot she was pointing at and carried it carefully over to the door. She pulled the door open to take the damn pot.

That’s when it all went wrong. That tiny little mutt shot straight out of the door, barking like it was possessed, and went right up to the end of the pool. The chick went to chase the dog out of instinct. She went to move past me, but I threw the hydrangea at her and grabbed my snatch stick. If anyone was gonna save this dog it was going to be me. If I could just hook the snatch stick around the yap dogs throat I could yank it away from the pool without getting too close the set of jaws and teeth in the pool. the gator started moving around to face the little snack that was shouting “Eat me! Eat me!” right at the end of the water.

I saw the green scaly shape in the water start sliding in under the surface. Hell I’d be pissed off if somebody that size started yelling at me for sunbathing too. He probably has a right to eat that little dog, but it wouldn’t look very good for me to let the dog get snatched while the lady watched. I threw out the lasso. Caught the dog by the throat. That’d shut it up.

The gator smashed through the pane of water and sent shards of water up into the air. The droplets stinging like little teeth leaving bite marks on my skin.

I pulled the dog back with every muscle I could pull with. I thought I’d hit the ground holding the little shit dog on the end of the stick. In mid pull I stopped. Like I’d hit a wall. The world flipped upside down. I could feel my boots try to find something to stand on in mid-air. The entire pool fell on me as my world was still spinning. Everything was being whipped around in every direction as I bobbed under the water. The world finally turning back up and I reached for the cement border of the patio. My wrist crunched hard onto the ground right at the same time my mouth found the air. The gator had been spinning me around under the water. The spinning stopped because it had snapped its jaw shut on my hand, and my hand was gone. There was red everywhere.

The thump of a metal baton going through a skull knocked some sense into me. Two more animal control officers had just finished my job. There wasn’t anymore barking.

When I got home from the hospital I thought things had changed; Lauren had stopped yelling, the pain meds I was on worked miracles, and I felt fine without my left hand. I was getting workers comp checks to pay for everything we needed. When the doctor took me off the pain pills it started all falling apart. Lauren went back to yelling. I went back to work.

Lauren just kept yelling. Always about the trash. The trash and the beer.

I had just gotten home from work. The house smelled like meatloaf, again. I opened the door. She started yelling about the beer boxes by the door.

So I picked up the boxes and walked through the living room to the kitchen. Grabbed a cold beer, and then gathered every single bag of trash in the house. I took it all out the back door to my truck.

She was still yelling at me. From the other side of the glass door. I saw her reach down and lock me out.

“you get that shit to the dump Danny. Right now. Not later. Not Tomorrow. Now” Yapping at me just like that fucking little dog.

This was my yard. What right did she have to fucking yell at me. I dropped the trash and whipped around facing the door. She was still yelling. Our tiny flat green lawn had trash everywhere. I started slowly towards the door. She didn’t even flinch. I walked straight to that little pane of glass, glaring straight through it. All she could do was yap and yell and yap some more. I put my one good hand through that glass, sending shards spraying into the air. leaving little slashes across her face.

The glass in the door spat out in the shape of a pair of jaw, big and powerful. The sharp edges of teeth pointed into flesh to find blood. They sunk in deep.

I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her though back through the door. The world rolled us over as she pulled against me and fell, throwing me off balance. We rolled through the pool of broken glass and the green of the grass turned wet red. She fought back: kicked, hit, twisted. I held tight. She stopped struggling and I let her fall on the grass. The whole world was red. Sirens were whining down the street. The was no quiet anywhere.

my skin was stiff and numb against the grass.

I could have moved that gator. it didn’t have to be put down.

#prose #my writing #my short story #writers of tumblr #cw violence #tw violence #tw animal harm #fiction #short story #my prose

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chronicbatfictioner · 7 years ago

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Theater of the Soul - Chapter 9

Bright red. He saw flashes of red. Most things around his world were red. His blanket is red, he knew. Not a blanket, really; but once upon a time, it was red. His shirt was red - he thought. Whatever color it was today, he was quite sure it was red. Probably some time when he'd acquired it from the trash can, before the dirt and grime from the street stained it.

There was a red-breasted birdy in his pocket. There was once a little bird in his life. Both were gone, and he did not know where they went. But he was quite sure that it had been his fault. Everything were his fault. He was not strong enough. He wouldn't follow orders. He wasn't smart enough..

Thoughts jumbled to and fro in his brain today. There have been too many noises around that had disrupted his day. He hated the loud noises - police cars passing by, voices screeching somewhere in the distance, bangings of god knows what. He'd been keeping himself safe, under the blanket. Things can go by over the blanket and he would be okay.

There were noises of people talking near him. They sounded like they were under water. Or maybe he was the one under water.

He could hear the person calling him, thinking that the voice had come from the person he usually shared his space with - the one with the little kid. He peeked out from under the blanket, and immediately focused on the male voice. He recognized the male's form, curly hair, brown skin, kind hazel eyes. There were other forms that were mere human-shaped blurs in his eyes.

One of the blurs knelt in front of him. There was something about it that didn't scream 'danger' to him, and he waited. The blur showed him something. Something in a rectangle it was holding in its hand. Something with long, soft, flowy red hair.

Something that felt like home.

He tentatively reached for it.

Surprisingly, the old man was right. Just a few corners from the Art Districts, Tim noticed a few lumps of... something? someone? -- covered in tarps. On impulse, he approached the reddish colored one and tapped the foot area. Or at least the spot he thought where a foot would be.

Somebody else called out, "hey, don't bug him!"

Tim startled a little, but then noticed that the guy calling out to him was only a kid around his age, with a messy afro and brown skin, wearing several layers of clothes and probably pants, too - likely to make himself look bigger. "Hi," Tim greeted him politely, and noticed Helena a safe distance away behind the guy. "I'm not planning to bug him. Can you... have you seen this guy?" he offered Jason's photo again.

The boy studied the photo for a moment and then snorted. "Can't believe that's him... but yeah, he's the Red Hoodie kid." he pointed to the red tarp. "But you don't wanna bug him, really. He gets vicious." he added.

"Why?" Tim was more startled at the meekness of his own voice. "He's... he's my brother... Is he okay?"

The boy looked only slightly skeptical before he shrugged. "Not really. He was like that when he got here. Snorted some bad drug, prolly. But he ain't hurtin' us and gets vicious when people nag us." he said proudly. "Up all night to watch out for us and sleeps all day while we watch out for him."

"Who's we?" Tim asked curiously.

"Me and my lil sis. He did good by us."

Tim studied the boy, seriously couldn't be much older than Tim. "Are you here with your folks?" Tim asked carefully.

Maybe it was because Tim was as young as he was, maybe he didn't notice Helena loitering nearby, but the boy seemed relaxed. "Naah, our mom got busted coupla months ago for hooking. No dad, ever. She'll be outta jail next week and we're good. Red's been lookin' out for us." he said, adding, "He your brother?"

"Where do you live, usually?"

"Compton, baybeeh. But don't sweat it, buddy. We been on the street before. Mom was hookin' 'cause she was lookin' for some cash for food. She got fired, y'see." he explained. "I'm Danny."

"I'm Tim," Tim accepted the extended hand. "Where's your sister now?"

"At Hope, they have a daycare there."

Tim definitely gulped, silently hoping that the boy meant the sister was working there instead of being cared for in there. "How old is your sister?" he croaked, inwardly cringing at the obviously illogical thought: if the sister was working, the boy wouldn't need to be on the streets now, would he?

"Four. She's not like, really my sister. Just like, half sister, right? But her dad is an asshole and got himself killed in a drive-by and my momma gotta support her and me. She got fired from her school - she was a teacher, see. Not that it paid much, but without it, she's got nothin'." he shrugged. "What's your deal, man?"

"I..." Tim hesitated, looking at the lump that was supposed to be Jason. "I'm looking for my brother. We're... not related. But we're both adopted. And he... I guess he was angry when I got adopted, too, he thought I was there to replace him." he explained, deciding as he went to give just about 75% of the truth, "he ran away. Our dad's been looking for him, and I finally decided to come here with a family friend. I was hoping I'd get a better luck..."

"Lucky," the boy - Danny- said. "I'm too old to get fostered and would end up in a group home. My sis could end up at some random pedo's house." he shrugged. "But anyway, mom'll be out next week, anyway. He's been helping me get some cash for the bus fare to county jail. So we're good. --hey Red! Somebody's here to see you."

The bundle shuffled, and the head part finally uncovered itself, showing a bush of jet black hair and a white streak on the bangs. Tim almost thought it was not Jason, until the guy opened his eyes.

And Tim swore he would never be able to forget those eyes. In spite of both their eyes being blue, Tim's were more indigo whereas Jason's were more turquoise. Thanks to his camera, Tim also knew that there was a little imperfection in Jason's right eye, a fleck of hazel among the blue-greens.

He was more alarmed at the blankness of the eyes, though, although he knew that behind the scruffy beard, the guy was definitely Jason. A lot bigger than the last time he saw him, but still Jason.

"Jason?" he called out tentatively, surprisingly calmly considering he wanted to yell and jump and maybe high-five Helena or something. "Would he run...?" he asked Danny carefully. Jason was still staring at him blankly.

"Naah, he knows he's safe here. We look after our own, right, Red?" Danny replied. But there was a note of pensiveness that was audible enough to make Tim turn and look at him.

"You're scared that I'm gonna take him away and leave you and your sister unprotected." Tim hypothesized.

Danny gave him a nervous laugh. "We'll get by. Just a week, right? At least he'll get healthcare or something."

Tim finally met Helena's eyes. "No, it's not right." Tim said. "Can you do something? If not, I'd rather have them in Bruce's place." he asked Helena. He noticed that at the mention of 'Bruce', Jason's eyes started to blink rapidly.

Helena sighed. "You know what? Why don't I go get my car and we'll think about this later..." she said. "I got the feeling that you're just like daddy, Tim... you can't just let something like this pass."

"Absolutely not. Hey, Danny, how far is Hope daycare?" Tim asked, deciding something in his mind.

"Not far, why?"

"Right. Here's the thing. Jason trusts you, and he probably doesn't remember me - he's been gone for over a year, after all. I've probably physically changed than the one he remembered. Miss Helena here will go grab her car, and then you'll help me load Jason into the car, and then we'll go to where I'm staying." Tim said. "You and your sister can come, too, and you can stay there with me until your mom gets out of jail. Or, maybe with Helena. I don't know yet. I'll figure something out on the way and set something up. I'm not gonna leave you here on the streets alone."

Danny glared at Tim contemplatively for a good long while with one crooked eyebrow, as if trying to decide if Tim was nuts or lying.

"I'm not nuts, I'm not lying. Helena, please? The soonest we can get Jason out of the streets the better." Tim prompted as he pulled out his cellphone and called Barbara. "Babs? I found him." he said immediately as soon as Barbara picked up the phone.

"Tim, you're a magic worker, I swear. Can I talk to him?" Barbara replied, the relief in her voice palpable.

"I'm putting you on video call. Maybe he'll recognize you."

"Recog-- wait, what?"

Tim predicted that Jason would react strongly to Barbara's face, and he did. Jason's eyes began to tear up as he saw Barbara's face in the phone. He reached for it, and Tim handed it over, watching as Jason cradled the phone in his hands. Barbara reacted just as Tim hoped, she continued talking to Jason - saying whatever it was in her mind, probably, that calmed Jason.

While Jason continued cradling the phone in his hands and looked blankly at Barbara's face, Tim turned to Danny and Helena expectantly. "You guys have a problem with my other plans?"

Helena smirked fiendishly. "Tim, buddy, at this point in my life, if your plans include the invasion of Normandy, I'm just gonna start rolling my sleeves and pack an overnight bag."

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #JayTim #helena bertinelli #OC #SoulTheater!AU #BatFam #barbara gordon

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221bshrlocked · 7 years ago

Text

Ever Enough

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 1366

Warnings: Angsty support!?

Anon asked “Can you do a Bucky x reader fic with the song "ever enough" by a rocket to the moon? You are always so good at writing song fics”

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE or HERE.

It came out of nowhere. One day you were fine, the next thing you know you don’t want to deal with anyone. At first, you thought it was just the stress of the missions, the constant orders, the sounds of shots heard when you’re trying to sleep. But then it hit you.

You’ve been doing this for so long. You’ve been lying to your friends for so long. You’ve been keeping all your emotions bottled up for so long. And you had no outlet. No healthy one at least.

And it scared you because your brain somehow found a way to mess with you.

Mess with your relationship with Bucky.

You knew he would never leave you. Never. But because you had a fantastic way of overthinking, you snapped. And you felt horrible. But you snapped at him and immediately left, not looking back, not giving excuses, not giving explanations, not saying where you’re going.

Packing some clothes, you left to your old home, wanting nothing more than to feel your old life even for just a day. Wanting to feel normal for just a day.

Shutting your bedroom door behind you, you turned around and looked at the pictures set on window and the walls, smiling when you caught an old photo of your parents’ wedding day.

“Look at the mess I made mom.” You picked up the frame, crying silently at how happy they looked and wishing that you would be in their place one day.

“I fucked up didn’t I?” You sat on your bed, not knowing how to apologize to Bucky. That little part of your brain told you that he probably had it and once you return, would never talk to you again.

No I’m never gonna leave you darling No I’m never gonna go regardless Everything inside of me is living in your heartbeat Even when all the lights are fading Even then if your hope was shaking I’m here holding on

“I mean you didn’t fuck up completely but…” You almost dropped the frame, shooting out of your seat and looking behind you.

He was standing at the doorway, arms crossed and eyes staring right at you, a ghost of a smile on his face. He noticed you shift uncomfortably, placing down the picture and looking away from him.

I will always be yours forever and more Through the push and the pull I still drown in your love And drink 'til I’m drunk And all that I’ve done, Is it ever enough?

“Why are you here?” You shut your eyes at your cold tone, not wanting to sound so horrible but knowing your defense mechanisms were kicking in.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re alright doll.” You heard him walk slowly to you, heat radiating off of his hand that tried to pat your shoulder but not quite doing so.

I’m hanging on a line here baby I need more than if's and maybe's We’ll come down from the highest heights Still searching for the reason why And now I know what it’s like, Reaching from the other side After all that I’ve done

“Baby look at me.” He continued, not making it sound like a command but more of a request. Your heart broke at how kind he was. How was this man so forgiving? You yelled at him. You walked out on him with nothing to say. Your crying increased, making you incapable of doing anything. When he turned you around, he saw your eyes and his heart clenched. Pulling you slowly into a hug, he wrapped his arms around you and sat down on the bed, whispering assurances that he was not going to leave you.

I will always be yours forever and more Through the push and the pull I still drown in your love And drink 'til I’m drunk And all that I’ve done, Is it ever enough?

“What happened Y/N? Tell me. Please darlin I wanna help you but I can’t do that unless you tell me what’s goin on in that pretty little head of yours.” He felt you smile against his neck, relieved that you still responded to his pet names.

“I just...it was all too much Buck. I- couldn’t...god I don’t know.” Your sentences were left hanging in the air, making him shut his eyes at your pain. There was so much going on that he didn’t know and he hated that he wasn’t as supportive as you were.

“I’m here. I’m here. Not goin anywhere.” Raising your head, he quietly laid down on the bed and motioned for you to come in his arms. You did without hesitation, wanting support even for just the present time.

“Did I do something? Tell me if I did. I may not have me-” He started, making you cut him off instantly.

“No no no god no...it’s not you it’s me.” You raised your head, noticing him chuckle.

“People still use that line today?” His question made you laugh and Bucky took this chance to wipe your tears, looking at you.

For all that it’s worth, is it worth it? Cause more than it’s hard to desert it For all that it’s worth, is it worth it? How do we know without searching?

“It was a stupid thought really-”

“What was?” He was getting somewhere and didn’t want to make you drop the subject.

“I thought that..you- I was afraid that you’d...god. I was afraid you’d leave me.” You finally said it, looking at him to see his reaction. When his eyebrows furrowed, you worried about how you said it.

“Doll why would you ever think I would leave you? What we have is special. Could never find anyone like you. Did someone say that to you?” He sat up on his elbows, looking down at you and touching you cheek, trying to find any sign of discomfort from his last question.

“No it was all in my head. I...I thought you’d realize that I’m not good for you. So many of my friends don’t know what I’m doing and I just thought that they’d leave if they ever find out what I do for a living and then it hit me that you might leave me too and then I wouldn’t have anyone..” You couldn’t stop your breakdown even if you tried.

Bucky did the only thing he could do. The thing you always did when he was panicking.

Leaning down once more, he pulled you towards him and supported your head in his neck, his other hand finding its way on your back and roaming to calm you down.

“Shhhhhh it’s okay.” He repeated those two words over and over again until he heard you stop sniffing and your heart rate decrease.

I will write you this song to get back what’s ours Would that be enough?

“Listen to me Y/N. You’re stuck with me. Forever. I ain’t goin no where. Staying right here where you are. You’ve done so much for me. Fixed me. Loved me. Saw me for who I am when everyone else gave up on me.” He kept on reassuring you, wanting to make you believe what he was saying no matter what.

I will always be yours forever and more Through the push and the pull I still drown in your love And drink 'til I’m drunk And all that I’ve done, Is it ever enough?

“So, let me return the favor darlin. Let me help you, be your crutch, your crying pillow, your punching bag. Whatever you need. Will that be enough? Will I be enough?” He waited for your response, not wanting to push you any further.

For all that it’s worth, is it worth it? Is it ever enough? How could we know without searching? Is it ever enough?

You could hear his heartbeat, the soft sound almost putting you to sleep. It was steady and loud, calming you down until it matched yours.

With a tug on his shirt, you whispered a barely audible yes before falling asleep.

And for the first time in a long time, your brain didn’t mess with you.

Permanent tag list: @meganlane84 @mizzzpink @bringmetheemobands @kimistry27 @fireandicewillsuffice @vacam79 @amrita31199 @badassbaker @feelmyroarrrr @aekr @sexy-sea-basss @isaxhorror @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @cassandras-musings @mo320 @ssweet-empowerment @kapolisradomthoughts @queenmeplus1d @chameerah @purple-mango @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @bellejeunefillesansmerci @angryschnauzer @bladebarnes @huntermichelle @kristygeary @mrs-stan-barnes @jjlevin @retroasgardian @carailly @clean-and-claire @barnesvogue @also-known-as-me @seb-fucker-tucker @memory-of-a-goldfish @theonlyone-meeeee @debzybrazy @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @cloverrover @chameerah @mcuimxgine @hi-my-name-is-riley @kanupps06 @danni-blog @missmeganrachel @harrisbn @teenwolftimelord @queen-merc

Bucky tag list: @sanjariti @vxodoo-dxll @debbielovesbucky @esmecxcarlisle @daringtodreamawake @liziihorta @phoenixcaputo @smazztastic @wsismyhero @thunderous-flower @gloriavox @jarnesbrnes @annieluc @superpaperclip @thetrainwreckjournals @captainbitchjerkassbutt @jaekhyungie @webslingerholland @buckyappreciationsociety @elaacreditava @lostinspace33 @vxodoo-dxll @combo-trash @angelwingsbringmusic @cloverrover @youtubehelpsmesurvive @buckys-perfect-storm @irunintospace @killermonkeys45 @sakura-uchihoe @sarcastiel-assbutt

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky imagine #bucky request

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pynkhues · 5 years ago

Note

I’m new to the Brio fandom and just wanted to pop in and say how much I love your fics and all of your tumblr content!! It’s so fun to read especially in the off season. Can’t wait for more of your circumference/domestic Brio fic!

Welcome, anon! And thank you so much! You’re so sweet

And haha, I’ve had so many asks about the domestic Brio fic, so have the opening scene of Part 2 as a welcome-to-the-fandom present.

It’s a little long, so I’ve popped it under a cut. Hopefully the full thing will be up in the next day or so (it’s mega long, haha)

Lifting her ass off the chair in Rio’s office, Beth wriggles her cell phone one-handed out of the back pocket of her jeans. She’s still chewing on her lunch as she plants herself back down and opens up the Pinterest app, scrolling with her thumb until she lands on the jungle-printed wallpaper she’d saved the night before, holding it out across the desk towards Rio.

“So, this is what I’m thinking for Danny’s room,” she says, and when he doesn’t take her phone immediately, she waves it a little at him, coaxing.

She’s not sure if this has surprised him over the last few days – not sure if she’s able to truly surprise him anymore at all (honestly though, he seems to think she’s capable of anything these days, which he uses to praise her or provoke her, depending on his mood) – but since they’d told the kids the other night, Beth has slipped down a rabbit hole of decorating. Between packing and organising and researching the schools in their new district, to say nothing of work, she’s made a habit of collecting catalogues and ducking into outlet stores and scrolling through the sale sections of the Target and Cloud 9 websites, fitting their new home together in her head.

And maybe it hasn’t surprised him, but the urgency with which Beth has felt the need for it has certainly surprised her.

Because it wasn’t really in the telling of the kids exactly, not in the way Kenny had reacted, or the way Rio had called her his - - and god, she can still barely say it without turning eight shades of red. It was in the next day. It was in taking the kids to show them the house. Because they’d been - -

They’d been shy.

Gone was the confidence of the dinner table, the chatter and the seeming complete indifference to where they lived and who they lived with. They’d walked up their new front steps to the big empty house, and Danny had latched himself onto her leg as Jane had torn up the hallway. Emma moving so slowly she’d often seemed to barely be moving at all, her eyes wide and her lips parted, taking in every curve of ceiling and every vacant room with a tentativeness that Beth had never seen in her before.

It had been enough to make Beth search out Rio, but he’d been chatting too easily to Kenny, Marcus giggling over his shoulder as he’d given them their own personal tour of the place.

And just - - it’s the first time they’ve done this, she’d reminded herself, trying to coax Danny off her leg by walking him to the new family room and showing him where they’d keep his boardgames. The first time their idea of home has been forced to change, because even staying with Dean still just feels like visiting grandma, and Beth doesn’t know how she could’ve overlooked this, couldn’t have better prepared them for it, the guilt growing like a weed in her gut.

But she could fix it, she’d thought then, still thinks now. She could make it feel like home. Make it feel more like home than even their old one. She could do that for them.

“I’m thinking like, a dinosaur theme,” she says now, when Rio finally drops his wrap, wiping his hands on a napkin before grabbing her phone from her grip. “We can use this wallpaper as a feature, and then paint the rest of the walls green. I found these lamps at that outlet off Green Street the other day too where they have these cut-outs of like a - - what do you call them? The dinosaurs with like the - -” Beth gestures to the back of her head. “Like the bone there? It kind of looks like they’re wearing sad party hats? Para-something? Cut-outs of those guys anyway, and the lamp is on a little motor so it looks like the dinosaurs are moving around when you turn it on.”

She’s still building the room in her head – the duvet cover she’d found online, the rug from Ikea that Ruby had torn out of a catalogue for her, when she looks up to see Rio, his eyes still on her phone, his forehead furrowed and his lips parted as he shakes his head back at it. She squints a little at the expression, sitting up a little straighter.

“What?”

“Themes are for birthday parties, they ain’t for bedrooms,” he says, sliding her phone back across the desk towards her, and Beth blinks, half-scoffing, half-laughing.

“Themes are for - -” she flails a little, trying to think of a time themes don’t make things better, and finds she can’t think of one, so she settles on: “Everything.”

He arches an eyebrow at her at that, picking the wrap up off his plate again, adjusting the paper down and taking an enormous bite before he even graces her with a response. She’d picked them up for lunch from the deli he pretends he isn’t obsessed with on her way over from the dealership, some tiny hole in the wall that, to be fair, makes really good wraps (and sandwiches, but he still turns up his nose at those).

“Yeah? You wanna be stripin’ wallpaper for every new phase?” he says after he’s finished chewing. “What happens when he likes space instead o’ dinosaurs? When Emma likes horses more than ballet?”

“She already likes horses more than ballet,” she tells him, rolling her eyes, but neglects to mention the unicorn cushions she’s already bought for Emma’s room. “Besides, I seem to recall an awful lot of robots in Marcus’ room.”

“Yeah, figurines and shit,” Rio insists. “Which can go to his cousins or Goodwill when he’s done with ‘em. You think your sister’s kid’s gonna want a box o’ his lil’ cousin’s stripped wallpaper? You think any thrift store will? You’re spendin’ too much money on shit with an expiration date.”

Beth rolls her eyes, pulling the artichoke hearts out of her wrap (she really does hate them) and Rio holds his hand out expectantly, waiting for Beth to drop them in his hand. She does, and Rio makes a far-too-pleased sound as he pushes them down into his own wrap, down around the arugula, Spanish onion and the chorizo, his fingers coming out of it wet with aioli, and her face bursts into flames when he sucks them into his mouth, too focused on his lunch to notice her. Willing the red out of her face, and the sinking heat in her back up, Beth clears her throat, distracting herself by asking:

“What do you want to do with their rooms then?”

And he just shrugs.

“Keep it simple.”

It’s enough to make her snort, dropping her own wrap to gesture around his office with both hands.

“Oh, like this?”

And okay, so that’s not exactly fair. It’s not like his apartment isn’t incredibly nice, and he’d told her when he moved into this office that it was only for a couple of months (she’d discovered that his tendency to pick up and leave had extended to his offices, something that probably shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it had), and that he was here so little that there wasn’t much point in setting it up beyond his basic needs – a (very nice) desk, a couple of chairs, a powerboard, a low-slung bookshelf housing thick binders and a few archival boxes. The only real décor touch is the peace lily beside his desk which Beth had laughed at the irony of the first time she’d seen it.

Rio just replies with a look, finishing off his lunch in two more bites. His silence makes her shift a little in her seat, bite the inside of her cheek, her ears pricking instead at the sound of the warehouse outside – the steady flow of people, the clothes dryers whirring, the slicing of the counterfeit cash. Vaguely, she can hear footsteps, but thinks little of it.

“Hey, so, speaking of the kids,” she starts, and Rio eyes her warily, picking up the note of uncertainty in her tone, and god, she’s not sure why she is. She’s been thinking about this since they took the kids to the house after all. “I think maybe - - “

She’s interrupted by a knock on the door, spinning in her seat to look as Rio scrunches up the paper from his lunch and tosses it into the trash can by the bookshelf. The lack of response from either of them is enough for the door to open, and Demon to stand in the doorway. A look of slight surprise passes his face at seeing Beth there, and that’s enough to make Beth eye him more carefully. It’s not like Demon doesn’t know about them, hasn’t even made it pretty clear that he likes her as much as she’s surprised to have found that she likes him, that he approves, which can only mean that that look is because he’s bringing news he knows Beth won’t like.

His gaze finds Rio’s over Beth’s head, and she follows it back to see Rio tilt his chin up, telling him to go ahead.

“Cal’s booked,” Demon tells him after a split-second hesitation, and Rio nods, seemingly pleased, and dismisses Demon with a flick of his wrist, leaving Rio and Beth alone again.

The door has barely clicked shut when Beth turns her full attention back on Rio, squinting a little at him as he grabs his phone out of his jacket pocket and works his thumbs across the screen, typing out a text or an email. When he doesn’t choose to fill her in (shocking), Beth bites her tongue and asks:

“Who’s Cal?”

“Contractor,” Rio says, not even looking up at her, and Beth huffs out an annoyed breath.

“What’s he been contracted for?”

“Security,” he tells her, and that’s enough to make Beth frown, remembering the bruises on his knuckles when he’d come over to hers those few weeks ago, when they’d talked about money, before they’d found their house – that guarded, guarding look he’d had in his eye, the way he’d held himself. Something in her chest tightens.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, careful to keep the worry out of her voice, but she thinks he must hear it anyway with the way he looks up at her, his face deliberately relaxed in a way she knows he intends to put her at ease. He nods.

“It ain’t nothin’ you gotta worry about, yeah? Just precautionary.”

Beth bites the inside of her cheek, not quite happy with the answer, before she leans back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest, the last of her lunch forgotten.

“The kids,” she starts again, hoping the distraction might be enough to loosen her up, and Rio grins, amused at her transition. “I think we should spend some time with each other’s. Alone.”

It’s been on her mind even more than decorating the house has been – the seed planted by Kenny’s own uncertainty and then sprouted the next day at the house. Her own kids’ tentativeness had been hard, but she’d found herself tentative too at Marcus’ seeming confidence and independence – used to being uprooted with his father, she supposes, and the feeling that that unlocks in her feels best ignored for now – but how quickly he’d let her own kids overwhelm him. Beth had promptly realised that she didn’t know enough about Marcus to know if he’d needed rescuing from Jane’s boundless energy or encouragement to meet it – something that hadn’t been helped when Rio had spent the better part of half an hour on a tersely voiced phone call in the yard.

“What do you have in mind?” Rio asks, dropping his phone to the desk and leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms and mirroring her pose.

“I have to be out of my house on Saturday,” Beth says, and god, it’s Wednesday now, and there’s still so much to - - no, not the time. “And Dean’s picking the kids up for the two weeks on Friday afternoon, before they come back to m - - us at the new place. I was thinking maybe tomorrow you could take them to the movies. So they can get a bit more familiar with you before they’re living with you. They really want to see that new movie about the dogs.”

It had been the thing that had made the most sense to her. The thought of inflicting the four of them on Rio alone without strict parameters and at least three of them docile feeling a little too cruel for somebody with only one, perfectly behaved kid.

“The movies?” Rio replies, wrinkling his nose slightly, and Beth blinks, forehead furrowing in confusion.

“What’s that face for?”

“Don’t they spend enough time in front of screens?”

And both her eyebrows shoot up at that, something defensive growing in her belly, because that almost sounds like a parenting criticism, and she lets her eyes drift across Rio’s face, checking for a joke in his face, and when she finds none, casts her eyes down to his phone, lighting up on his desk, and then his laptop. He smirks a little at that, shrugging as if to say touche.

“Would you prefer something else?” she replies after a minute, her tone dry, and Rio rocks his head back and forwards, tilting his head down to look questioningly at the last of her lunch, and she pushes her plate towards him.

“I’ll think o’ somethin’,” he says, picking up wrap and taking a bite. “Pick ‘em up around 3?”

And whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. She blinks, her irritation dissipating as she finds herself nodding.

“That sounds good.”

“Cool.”

“And Marcus?”

“He ain’t goin’ to his mom’s until Sunday night,” Rio says, and right, Beth thinks, sitting up a little straighter. They hadn’t talked about this – about the fact that Beth is staying at his in the week-long interim between handing her keys over to the new owners, and picking up their new ones. And of course Marcus could’ve been there too, it just - - hadn’t occurred to her.

“I got some business Sunday mornin’ anyway,” he says, and Beth grins at the implication, something satisfying about a plan being locked in settling warm in her belly.

“Sunday morning,” she echoes, and Rio meets her grin.

#beth x rio #nbc good girls #my fic #the center and circumference #welcome to my ama

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