#I can tell because all my joints are hurting instead of just my knees lol

[arolesbianism]

I hand you a doodle and then go back to dying of the plague

[beesmygod]

UPDATE ABOUT HEALTH, COMIC, ETC.

SUMMARY: i am still doing the comic at the fullest speed i can, but ask for patience and understanding while i get myself under control. nothing is stopping, but update days might get skipped. if you donate to the patreon for "A Ghost Story" you are only charged for pages i make per month.

ok so. the thing is about whatever is wrong with me:

i legitimately cannot tell if i am malingering, imagining things, or becoming a victim of my own anxiety because the "symptoms" im experiencing are so stupid and nondescript that they could be a consequence of anything from my awful diet to my worse sleep to my lack of exercise to even just being an alive human being. i was (am?) pretty sure most people feel like i do on a day to day because we all live such dogshit lives that fatigue, pain and chronic sickness were just the factors that united us as humans one of these ambiguous symptoms is a rotten tooth sort of pain in my joints. i have always attributed this to being lazy and out of shape and experiencing a type of pain from underuse. it absolutely does not feel like pain from overexertion. it's a deep internal throbbing that is entirely tolerable, but chronic. imagine being at like a steady 3-4 on the pain scale all day. sometimes, it "flares up" and instead of just having one joint a day (usually my hip), multiple joints will hurt much worse at once for about a week. in the past i always thought i was swerving getting the flu and just got lucky. a lot.

bc the joint paint isnt dramatic it never occurred to me to like, look at the places that hurt until recently. are the places swollen? am i looking at natural asymmetry of the human body and ascribing too much significance to nerves misfiring? in my eyes these places are not as swollen later as they are in these photos. i circled the swollen places in some bc sometimes honestly i cannot tell if thats swelling. they are places that hurt at that time and looked weird enough to document.

the only one i know for sure was/is fucked up is my toe/s. which i cant post bc of internet perverts. but the big toe turned cherry red and bloated and ached weirdly under the toenail. but there's a bump on it i can feel that makes it go numb when i push on it. bonespur? who knows. as a kid, my knee once became so red hot and swollen that i was sent home but was told it was bursitis

ANYWAY: i hurt real bad right now, and the worst of this stuff is happening in my knuckles, wrist, and my toes. when its in my hips, knees, and back i couldnt give less of a shit bc those are easier to ignore than my fingers. this friday i ran a low grade fever, slept for 20 hours and threw up my only meal. the first images are from this weekend. i have a drs appointment tomorrow.

please bear with me. the only thing a web comic needs to do in order to maintain any kind of readership is be consistent, and it is making me insane with stress that i am not able to maintain what should be an incredibly easy schedule for an audience that have been giving me the gift of allowing me to entertain them for almost a decade. i am not losing steam, just falling apart lol.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Dead Or Alive - Harry Styles

a/n: oof okay hello! this is a little different, i guess? but im very excited to share this with you! don’t ask me how i got the idea for this, no clue but it was stuck in my head for days before i finally gave in and started writing it. please share your thoughts and comments on it, i would love to read them!! hope you’ll enjoy it!

pairing: Wanted!Harry x BountyHunter!Reader

warning: violence, talks of drugs, murder, guns, i really lost track of it lol

word count: 15.2k

masterlist

The man in the handcuffs growls in pain again, but you just yank him forward, not in the mood to deal with a whining girl trapped in a six feet tall disgusting looking, oily-faced bald man in his forties.

“Y/N! What do we got today?” Jeremy greets you at the front desk, thumbs hooked into his belt as he watches you tug the guy into the hall of the station, pushing him down to the nearest seat as you step to Jeremy who is already handing you the paperwork.

“Dennis Delgado. Took me a few days to find him, but he couldn’t hide forever,” you grin proudly as you grab a pen and start filling the papers out.

Jeremy walks over to Dennis who just looks up at the officer in disgust. It’s not enough that he is a child molester disgusting prick, he is racist on top of everything and now Jeremy is enjoying having the higher ground, Dennis trapped in his handcuffs while Jeremy will be the one to get him behind bars for a long time.

“Nice one. We’ll have a lot of fun with this one,” Jeremy chuckles. “Want me to ring up your brother?”

“Is he in? Would love to have a word with him,” you nod smiling. When you’re done with the papers you hand them over to Stella, the receptionist who gets to work with them right away so you can get your money.

“Sure, I’ll get him for you on my way,” Jeremy nods, grabbing Dennis by his arm, pulling him along on his way to the elevators. “Come on you scumbag, you have a cell waiting with your name on it.”

The two of them disappear and you get into a little chit-chat with Stella while she is finishing up the paperwork. Leaning against the counter you look around, officers come and go in the hall, all of them dressed in their uniform and for a moment you picture yourself wearing the same outfit. At one point in your life it seemed to be part of your future, but now it would be the most ridiculous sight. Y/N, the best bounty hunter in the region in a police uniform? That’s not happening.

The elevator dings and your brother, Robert walks out. He on the other hand, made this vision happen. He has been an officer for about ten years now and though at first he was outraged that you chose the not so gracious lifestyle of a bounty hunter, but you soon became his unofficial partner, handing him over a wanted person every few days, making his work easier. Everyone at the station knows that Robert is the one who plays by the rules, doing everything according to the handbook, the perfect officer, always working to keep up the peace in town while you are… Well, you are a rebel. You could never play by the rules, always sneaking ways to do things according to your desires. You never liked if someone wanted to tell you what to do and how to do it, you are not a team player or either one that can easily managed by higher forces. It didn’t take long for you to realize your nature will never let you be an officer so you chose the other path that’s somewhere near joining the police, but still playing by your own rules.

Being a female bounty hunter wasn’t the easiest when you started off at the young age of seventeen. In desperate need of the extra money after the tragic passing of both your parents, the two of you had to get along on Robert’s slim, beginner paycheck. He was only twenty-three, started working at the station just a year prior, you knew you had to help him out. He kept bringing up cases, worked on them through the nights and when he passed you on the couch from exhaustion, you sneaked your way into the dining room and looked for easy targets. Speeding tickets, light drug trafficking, whatever you could deal with as a high schooler.

Robert hated the idea of you dealing with wanted people, you had endless fights about it, but you were too stubborn to stop and besides, you liked the adrenaline rush you got whenever you caught another one and brought them back to the station. Loved the stunned and shocked looks on the older officers when you managed to catch a bigger fish. It took Robert a few years to come to peace with your choice of lifestyle and now he doesn’t even try to talk you down. Instead, he keeps bringing you cases that pay well and he knows you’d like them.

“Who did you catch this time?” he grins at you, walking up to you and he envelopes you in a short hug.

“Just got Dennis Delgado, Jeremy took him.”

“Poor Dennis, he’ll have a rough evening,” Robert chuckles. “Did you get your money?”

“Stella is already working on it,” you nod towards the lady behind you.

“Oh, I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” Stella pushes herself back from her desk and walks over to you with an envelope filled with your reward.

“Amazing, thank you, Stella,” you grin at her happily. Dennis was worth a little more than the usual, you are well covered for the rest of the month thanks to him.

“Do you have something coming next?” Robert asks, hands on his hips as he watches you put the money away into your backpack.

“Not yet. Got something exciting for me?”

“An old friend,” he nods with a small smile. He reaches behind the counter and grabs a flyer, handing it over to you, a familiar face staring back at you from the photo this time.

Harry Styles is a name you’ve heard plenty of times and you know him well by now. You actually went to high school with him, you were just never in the same group. He was labeled as troubled all through his teenage years, his parents were brutally killed when he was just a kid, he was tossed around from one foster family to the other, moving around town every few months. It was no surprised when he got into some darker circles, he almost got kicked out of school right before graduation but somehow managed to stick around to get his diploma at the end.

You have actually handed him in a few times before. Never for anything bigger than drug trafficking or robbing smaller shops downtown, Harry is actually not as bad as people tend to portray him to be, he was just not blessed with the best background as most people. He is a smart guy and would never hurt anyone for real, this is why you are now staring down at his flyer shocked.

He is wanted for the murder of a local man who was found dead a few days ago in his home, Harry’s hair was found near the body with no other evidence.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask Robert with a concerned look. This doesn’t feel right. Not that you know Harry that well, but it’s very unlike him.

“Very much. His hair was the only thing we found near the body of Dave RIchards so evidently, he is our number one suspect.”

“I don’t know, this doesn’t sound right,” you think to yourself, staring down at the mug shot of him that was taken the last time you brought him in for selling weed to underage kids. You remember it exactly, because bringing Harry in is always… fun, if you could say that.

That last time, he was already expecting you, waiting around in his usual motel room that is somewhat considered as his home.

“My Y/N! You arrived earlier than I expected!” he greeted you when you kicked his door in. He was sitting in the middle of the double bed, rolling a joint as always, not a care in the world about your arrival.

“You knew I was coming?” you cocked your head to the side walking in and stopping at the end of the bed, watching him finish the joint and simply light it before taking a big puff.

“Of course. I was informed I’m on your list again, just thought you’d give me a few more hours, but it’s alright.” He waved around carelessly before holding out the joint in your way, offering you to try it.

“No thanks, I don’t trust your sketchy stuff.”

“That hurt!” he gasped dramatically, placing a hand to his tattooed chest that was partially on display since his shirts are never buttoned all the way up.

You brought him in that day, stopping for McDonald’s on your way to the station before handing him over to Robert. He was actually a great guy, nice sense of humor and good looks, you never thought otherwise, he was just moving around in different circles than you so you were left with the few jokes he always cracked when you took him in every few months.

“Well, it’s not your job to question his innocence. Want to take the job or not?” Robert asks you.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll find him,” you nod and fold the flyer, sliding it into your back pocket.

Normally, you take the rest of the day for yourself after turning someone in, but this situation with Harry just bugs you way more than to just go home and pretend like it’s not all you can think about. Harry is not a murderer, he would never randomly kill a man, he is not a psycho, just a guy with a rough background and some poor life decisions.

You know the route to the motel like the back of your hand. Arriving to the dodgy parking lot you park your car in the far end before taking one last look at the flyer. Then you push it into your backpack and get out, heading to Harry’s room with firm steps. You see no lights on, the door is closed and you almost don’t even get closer, thinking he is not here when you see someone move around inside.

You are almost at the door when a hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your body, pulling you back forcefully. It takes you a moment to recover from the shock as you are yanked backwards, but as you are being dragged towards the alleyway next to the motel you elbow your attacker in the stomach before kicking them in the knees. The hands fall from around you and turning around you pull out your pocket knife, ready to cut throats right away, but you are shocked to see Harry hunched over, groaning in pain as he holds his arm to his stomach.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” he growls, his chocolate curls falling forward, they’ve definitely gotten longer since the last time you saw him, he could easily put them up into a bun now. “What was that for?” he whispers in disbelief, his green eyes meeting yours in a scowl.

“What the fuck do you mean? You attacked me!”

“I didn’t attack you, I was trying to fucking save you!”

“From what?!”

“From the fucking asshole in my room who is four times bigger than you and would have probably shot you the moment you kicked my door in like you always fucking do!”

It’s just now processing in you that if Harry is here, the person you saw in the room can’t be him and he surely looked bulky. Harry runs his hand through his hair, straightening up from his hunched position before he sighs tiredly. He looks… worn-out, even more than he usually does. The dark circles under his eyes and beat-up knuckles are new, he usually looks fine despite everything that goes on in his life, but this is a version of him you haven’t seen. He has definitely been through some shit lately.

“What are you doin—“

“No time for questions now, we have to get out of here,” he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the alleyway to another parking lot on the other side of the motel. You spot his old jeep right away, but you yank your hand out of his hold, stopping in your tracks.

“Wait, my car is there!”

“We’ll come back for that later, but they can’t find you here with me or they’ll be after you as well,” he explains, grabbing your hand again as he pulls you towards the car and this time you follow him blindly.

You get into his jeep without even questioning it, not even caring that he is a man who is currently wanted for murder. Your instinct is telling you that you’re completely fine with him and you believe it. The two of you head out of town, taking the route to the next town nearby, but he takes a turn to the left, the jeep rolling onto a dirty road leading along fields filled with wildflowers. You have a guess where you’re going, there are some abandoned cabins near the woods that used to function as vacation homes, but they were slowly left to stand empty for eternity when a luxury resort was built on the other side of the woods.

“Care to tell me what the fuck just happened?” you ask him calmly, turning to look at him. He has one hand on the wheel, while his other elbow is resting on the armrest, fingers tapping on his chapped, pink lips.

“I’m in… deep shit, Y/N,” he admits with a sigh, eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“No shit, you killed someone?”

“I didn’t,” he states, his eyes meeting yours for a moment to emphasize his truth. “It was a fucking set up and now they are after me every way possible.”

“Who is? And what did you do to get into so much trouble?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we arrive, okay?”

You sit in silence for the rest of the ride until you finally arrive to the cabins. You follow Harry inside one of them and it seems like he has set his base up here a few days ago. There’s a double bed with blankets thrown over it and a few mismatched pillows, a sports bag with his clothes and a few grocery bags on the dusty kitchen counter, candles everywhere since there’s probably no power in the cabin. You wonder how long he has been camping out here.

“About a week ago I got a visit from Hugo McKain, you’ve heard about him?” he asks as he grabs a bottled water from one of the grocery bags and fills up two plastic cups, handing you one of them.

“Sure. I’ve heard that… he is a big fish,” you nod.

“Yeah. He wanted me to work for him, but I sincerely rejected the offer, however it didn’t sit well with him. He threatened me that if I’m not selling his stuff, then I won’t sell anyone else’s stuff,” he explains, walking over to the bed and he sits at the edge, staring at the cup in his hands. “He gave me another day to change my mind, but I said that I don’t want to get involved with any of the heavy shit he deals with. I was hoping he would just willing to forget about it, but apparently, he is not the kind to just let shit go,” he chuckles bitterly. “A few days ago he sent two of his men after me, but I was able to run away. I was ready to pack my shit up and just leave the state forever, but then the fucking asshole framed me for the murder of that guy. A friend called me to let me know that I’m the only suspect in the case and that my face has been sent out already everywhere in the state. Hugo made it impossible for me to leave, I would be caught the moment I stop to pump fucking gas in my car,” he growls in annoyance. “So it’s a whole shit show, the police and Hugo are after me and I’m fucking stuck here.”

You stand there at a complete loss of words, because though you have no evidence if he is telling you the truth, you just know he is and the situation is fucking miserable. Harry drinks his water and throws the cup into a plastic bag that serves as a trashcan, his fingers running through his hair nervously.

“Do you know who killed the guy?” you speak up after some silence.

“Yeah, one of his men called Axel, he is a proper idiot, I’m actually surprised he didn’t leave his DNA back, just mine,” Harry scoffs.

“If you know they are after you, what were you doing at the motel?” you ask, leaning against the wall, curiously eyeing him as he glances up at you.

“Knew you’d come after me, didn’t want them to pull you into this mess too.”

Your eyebrows rise at his words. He went back because of you? Harry notices your surprise, a smug smirk tugging on his lips.

“What? Couldn’t let them lay a finger on my Y/N, right?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. He has always been so flirty with you since day one, always trying to pull your leg, chatting your ears off in hopes that he can finally drag you to bed one day. But you never give in, it all stays just some empty flirting and a playful banter.

“So what are you going to do now?” you ask clearing your throat. There’s just always been something in the way he calls you his Y/N that makes you a tad bit nervous.

“That’s an excellent question to which… I have no answer,” he truthfully admits.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“You tryna’ lure me into going to the station with you?” he asks with a grin. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t cuffed me yet. You love that stuff, don’t you?” Harry stands from the bed and strides over to you, the height difference between the two of you forcing you to tilt your head up a little as he smirks down at you, enjoying that he has successfully made you blush. “Question is, have you been the one in the cuffs?”

You part your lips with the intention of answering, but nothing comes out. Harry smirks down at you, so full of himself before stepping away.

“Anyway, I think I’m just gonna lay low here for a while and then hopefully I’ll be able to sneak out of town at one point.”

“You wanna stay here?” you ask looking around. The place is fine for just a few nomad days, but staying here for more seems impossible. There’s no electricity, probably no water, some of the windows are broken in, the temperature must drop drastically in the nights so close to the woods.

“Not that I have any other choices,” he huffs, opening a bag of chips from the groceries.

“Don’t you have any friends who can share their couch with you for a while?”

“You think anyone would want to hide a dude who is wanted for murder and who is also in trouble with Hugo McKain? Baby, even if any of my friends were willing to help, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t want to pull them into my shit. Besides, Hugo is probably already keeping tabs of all my friends, he has the connections to know everything about me.”

“And what about me?” you suddenly ask. Harry freezes, eyes flickering at you in confusion.

“What about you?”

“Would he look for you at mine?”

Now it’s his turn to rock a stunned expression, eyebrows shooting up as he stares back at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but truth is neither did you. However it doesn’t take him long to turn it into something entirely sexual.

“You know, if you wanted to see me in your bed, you should have just asked.”

Luckily, you don’t fall under his spell this time. Rolling your eyes you put the cup to the nearest surface and head to the door.

“Alright, changed my mind. Have fun camping out here on your own,” you mumble, reaching for the doorknob, but he is quick to get between you and the door, stopping you from leaving.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just not expecting you to make that offer, alright?” You take a step back, folding your arms on your chest. “Were you serious about that?”

“It seemed like an option. I doubt you’d be expected to be at my place.”

“And you’d actually let me stay there?”

“I guess a few days wouldn’t hurt. Until you figure out what to do.”

Harry stares at you in awe, like you just did the best thing ever for him and the thought that he never had anyone to do such favor for him is kind of heartbreaking. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but there’s just something in him.

You help him pack his stuff back into the jeep, leaving the weathered cabin empty again before you head back to town. Harry drops you off a few blocks from the motel so you can walk back to your car, you glance at his door just once, it’s still closed but they could easily still be there.

Harry is already at your place when you arrive to your building, waiting around in his jeep, he has put a beanie and sunglasses on, keeping his head low. As he follows you up to your little apartment, you actually realize that Harry is about to move in with you for the upcoming days, he is going to live in your place, you’ll share your home with him. How crazy does that sound?

Unlocking the door you walk into your small apartment. It’s just the perfect size for one person, a decent kitchen with a small dining table, a living room that also functions as your study, your desk filled with folders and flyers from previous works. Then you have a little bedroom and a bathroom opening from the living room. It’s cozy and homey, but definitely not the setting you would have ever imagined Harry in.

“So, the couch is a pull out, I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow, make yourself… home I guess,” you tell him walking into your bedroom to get him everything he needs. However, he is following you into the room, already snooping around in your private little space.

As you grab him a blanket and pillow, you find him inspecting your clutters on top of your dresser, your jewelry, perfumes and makeup stuff is just thrown out there, and he seemingly takes an interest in your rings.

“Never seen you wear any jewelry,” he huffs as you walk up to him.

“Don’t like them on me that much,” you admit. “Here,” you give them the bedding and usher him out of the bedroom before he gets way too adventurous and starts digging into your lingerie drawers.

When the pullout is all set up and Harry has settled in a little, you are faced with the fact once again, that Harry is in your home and about to spend the upcoming days here with you, since he can’t really roam around the streets.

You make sandwiches for the two of you and sit at the small dining table, eating in silence until you speak up.

“I can ask my brother to help find the guy who did it. There has to be a way to get you out of this.”

Harry glances at you, chewing on his food before putting the sandwich down, swallowing the bite.

“Not really if they don’t find evidence.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“We?” he smirks at you playfully, earning a blush from you again. You hate the effect he has on you, he is clearly a good-looking guy, you always thought that, even in high school. Thanks to his troubled name, girls easily fall for his bad guy behavior, they just never really saw that being a so called bad guy wasn’t just about the looks, with a slightly similar background you could imagine how hard it really was for him. Though he never really let it show. He is always this whitty, cocky bastard who is ready to flirt his way into your pants whenever the opportunity is given.

“If you keep up with the teasing you’ll find yourself on the street one morning,” you warn him and he just holds his hands up with a smug grin.

“You are the boss lady here,” she chuckles softly before returning to his sandwich.

For the rest of the evening you bury yourself into some other work stuff, you always have a few smaller gigs going on that are easy money, Harry in the meanwhile makes himself comfortable on the couch, watching your tiny TV in silence, letting you do your thing. It’s nearing midnight when you wrap it up and head to have a quick shower. Standing under the hot water you take a few minutes to collect your thoughts and just simply try to get used to the thought that you are in fact hiding a man who is wanted for murder. It’s going to be some pretty interesting days you have ahead of you, that is for sure.

Putting on your oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts you leave a clean towel on the counter for Harry in case he doesn’t have one before heading out.

“Towel is on the counter. Sorry, I don’t have shower gel for men, but the soap is unscented so feel free to use,” you tell him walking out, only to find him already waiting around the door, leaning against the wall. His eyes fall down the length of your uncovered leg, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“If you’re the kind who sleeps naked, feel free to get rid of the textile.”

“Are you a naked sleeper?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“I can be, if you want me to be,” he grins smugly and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Good night, Harry,” you sigh walking into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you, only allowing yourself to let out a shaky sigh when you are out of his sight. Leaning against the door you hear him shuffling around until the bathroom door closes and the water starts running. You try your best to ignore the thought of Harry currently in your shower naked as you climb to bed and pull the covers over your head. You need the coverage, hopefully it’ll help you with your wandering thoughts.

“Thought you’d deliver Styles by now,” Robert teases you when he meets you at the station the next day. You left Harry at your place, sincerely asking not to trash your home while you’re away and headed to the police station in hopes that your brother might be able to help him out.

“Uh, no. But actually, he is the reason why I’m here,” you tell him with a nervous chuckle.

“What? Did he hurt you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Can we please talk in your office?” you ask and he nods, leading you up to his office.

Once the two of you are settled and secluded from the rest of the officers, you just decide to start right in the middle and not waste your time beating around the bush.

“Harry didn’t do it. He was framed.”

Robert gives you a surprised look as he leans back in his seat on the other side of his desk. He thinks about your words furrowing his eyebrows before scratching his neck.

“How… do you know that?”

“I just know. He is being framed by Hugo McKain, it was one of his men who killed the guy, not Harry.”

“I have a feeling that your source about this was none other than Harry himself.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because of course he would try to defend himself!”

“Harry is not a murderer, Robert,” you snap. “He always owns up to his mistakes and he would never do anything to hurt others. Yes, he is troubled and did a lot of illegal shit in his life, but never anything that could hurt others. He became a target because he didn’t want to join Hugo.”

Robert stares at you for a while, probably trying to figure out whether he should believe you or not. You knew he’d be skeptical, but you can only hope he trusts you enough to help you out in this one case.

“And what do you expect me to do?” he asks after a while.

“He knows the name of the guy. Axel something, can you get someone on his case? Look into the evidence more? Something might come up that could help Harry out of this mess.”

Robert’s jaw clenches as he stares back at you, contemplating his choices but something is telling you he is already in. You won him over.

“I’ll have Jake look into it, I think I know who this Axel guy is.”

“Thank you, Robert!” you cheer in excitement. Jumping from your seat you go around his desk and hug him from behind, kissing his cheek as he tries to escape your embrace. He hates it when you get all affectionate at his work, but you just had to. You head to the door to get out of his hair before he changes his mind, but he stops you before you could leave.

“Y/N, just please be careful with Styles, okay?”

“He is not as bad as people make him sound.”

“I just don’t want him to get you into trouble. There’s only so much I can do to save your ass.” “Don’t worry,” you smile at him softly. “I’ll be alright.”

The rest of the day goes by with catching some stupid guy who was wanted for trying to rob a gas station while drunk, it’s a mystery how he was able to run away, you saw the security footage, the guy was barely standing on his feet, but lucky for you, he is in the exact same state when you surprise him at a bar and bring him in.

It’s past seven when you finally get home. Keying yourself into the apartment you are met with a quite pleasant sight. Harry has pushed the pullout in to make some space in the cramped living room and as you step inside, you are met with the sight of him doing pushups in the middle of the room, no shirt on, just a pair of loose shorts, all his tattoos are on display, a thin layer of sweat covering his body, his curls are held back with a headband. When he hears you arrive, his head shoots up and smirks in your way before doing a few more and then he stops, standing up just as you shut the front door.

“Welcome home, Honey,” he winks in your way and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Turning my living room into your personal gym, huh?”

“I can’t just sit around all day, waiting for you to get home, can I?”

“You can always just fix up my apartment while I’m gone,” you joke chuckling. Setting your bag down on your bed you join him in the kitchen where he is sipping on some water. “Anyway, I have good news for you. My brother said he’ll have one of his guys look into the case. I’m sure he’ll check after this Axel dude you mentioned.”

“That’s great! I’ve also been asking around today, some of my friends said they will try to dig up some dirt that might help me out, but I don’t want any of them to get too deep and then have Hugo go after them too.”

“It’ll be fine,” you nod, convinced that things will turn out well. “Alright, I’ll throw something together for dinner, what—“

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already ordered, should be here soon.”

“You ordered food?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course. I won’t just eat your fridge out, dinners are on me while I’m here,” he smiles genuinely and you’re stunned by the gesture.

Half an hour later the two of you are sitting on the living room floor, Chinese takeout boxes littering the place around you, having a full on feast because Harry didn’t go light on the order.

“So, tell me, what have you been doing since high school?” he prompts the question. “I feel like I know you but I also don’t. Don’t get me wrong, being handcuffed by you every other month is fucking hot, but I don’t know much about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” you shrug. “I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, no grandiose career.”

“But did you have any other plans before?”

“Thought about joining the police, but I was never tame enough to follow their rules.”

“Ooh, a little rebel?” he teases you and you throw a handful of napkins in his way, making him laugh.

“You can joke about it, but I’ve had my fair share of trouble as well, you are not the only one who’s been through some rough years.”

“I know that,” he nods, eyes getting serious for a moment. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“You know about them?” you ask in surprise. You didn’t really share it with anyone, talking about the loss of them just made it harder to deal with it and you also didn’t want everyone’s petty.

“You just know about this kind of stuff when you grow up in foster care. Though you were lucky your brother was already of age.”

“I know. I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here if I had to go into foster care.” Putting down the box from your hands you look at Harry. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.”

“Not that it was any of your fault,” he smiles softly, but you can see the pain in his green eyes. Despite not knowing him well growing up, you always felt this weird urge to tell him how sorry you were for everything he had to deal with. He deserved a better childhood and teenage years and most importantly, respect from people. Everyone just labeled him as a lost case because of his background, but no one really tried to help him. Part of you feels guilty, because you could have helped through those years, but you were a little frightened from him as well, believing the rumors and talks about him, though now you know they were probably just stupid gossips.

Harry reaches into your box, stealing a dumpling and you snap on his hand, but he just pops it into his mouth grinning slyly.

“Hey! You have your own!” you tell him off.

“I know, but yours just tastes better.”

“You are such a pest,” you roll your eyes at him as you grab your box and start eating again.

“So, what does your boyfriend think about me being here?” he asks out of nowhere, but you see through his act. It’s his sneaky way of trying to get you to say if you’re single or not, probably already knowing the answer to that, but you choose to pull his leg a little.

“He is fine. Though you might have to plug your ears in a little when he comes over,” you tell him with a straight face and see his fall, a stunned expression on his handsome face.

“Wait, really? You have a boyfriend and told him about me being here?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

It’s hard not to start laughing, especially when the words process and he realizes that you are in fact taken. The flirty, teasing act is long gone, he presses his lips together nodding to himself as he continues to eat in silence.

“I’m just fucking with you, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you tell him at last, finally letting out a laugh. His eyes snap up at you and a smirk slowly tugs at his lips as he points a finger at you.

“You had me for a hot minute. Nice one.”

“Why were you so surprised when I said I have a boyfriend?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“Guess the thought was just a little weird, I’ve never seen you with a guy before.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve never been with any,” you point out, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, I know. I never thought you are pretending to be a nun,” he snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasp, feeling like it was a subtle way to call you some sort of slut. Harry looks up at your upset expression and he immediately knows how his words were taken.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he defends himself.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I meant that I always thought a girl as pretty as you must have plenty of guys after her.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at how bluntly he just called you pretty. It had a refreshing sound after all the shameless flirting he has been doing when it came to you, and your poor little heart immediately skipped a beat upon hearing his words.

“Well, I didn’t have,” you admit with a sad smile. You briefly dated a guy from another school in tenth grade, but after that, your life was just way too complicated to get involved in a relationship and you haven’t really been able to change that even years later. When you’re very keen on some intimacy you go to a nearby bar and just let whatever man to pick you up and have for the night, but that doesn’t happen too often either, because it seems useless most of the time, you can do the job yourself just fine too, you don’t need some random man to call you his babygirl when he doesn’t even know your name. Some never even bother to finish you, they pass out once they got what they wanted so you prefer being on your own.

“Fucking losers!” Harry huffs dramatically. “They have no idea what’s good.”

“You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better,” you roll your eyes at him, but you can feel yourself blushing.

“I’m not, I was always crushing on you a little in high school, if I’m being honest,” he admits truthfully, managing to surprise you once again.

“For real?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning his focus back to his food as he continues to talk. “Even thought about asking you out to prom one time. But I figured you might not even know who I am.”

“Come on, everyone knew who you were!”

“Are you telling me off for being humble?” he asks grinning. “Okay, let me rephrase it. I didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with me after hearing stuff about me, so I just dodged the idea.”

You chew on his words a little before looking up at him, eyes meeting his green irises, though you are usually not one to get in on the flirting, now you just feel like being a little blunt.

“Well, I always thought you were good-looking.”

“Were? Am I not good-looking anymore?” he teases with a dramatic gasp that makes you roll your eyes.

“Well, the smugness takes a bit away from it, if I’m being honest,” you tell him off making him laugh.

Once you both are well fed you clean the boxes up together, you wash the few extra plates you used while Harry dries them off and puts them away. Opening one of the cabinets he moves the door a bit, examining how it hangs a little low.

“I always forget to fix it up,” you sigh. There’s quite a few things that could use some work, but you just never get to start on them so they are always put aside.

You take your turns in the bathroom as usual and you sit at your desk a little, working on a few stuff before calling it a night. Harry is already lying in his temporary bed on the pullout, scrolling through his phone. The covers hide only half of his body, his naked, tattooed chest is on display, one of his arms is tucked under his head, the muscles on his arm flexing just right. He surely is a sight, you can’t deny that.

“Seeing something you like?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been caught staring. Clearing your throat you stack up the papers on your desk and head into your bedroom.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he calls after you before you click the door closed.

The next day you go with your usual routine, Robert checks in with you letting you know he already has someone on Harry’s case, so there’s not much you can do for now, only hope that something will surface that can help him out of this mess. Throughout the day you often catch yourself thinking about what Harry could be doing at home all day and you pray to all higher powers he is not currently snooping through your lingerie.

It’s a frustrating day, you couldn’t find the guy you’ve been after but you were really hoping to finally get the money for him. He is big money, but he makes you work for it certainly. When you arrive home Harry is nowhere to be seen, but then you hear the shower running so you figure he must have just been working out and is now taking a shower. Two pizza boxes are set on the dining table and you sigh in relief that you don’t have to think about cooking with him around. Going to the kitchen you are about to grab two plates when you notice that the cupboard door that’s been hanging low a little is now fixed. It’s as new as it never was since you’ve been living here and it gets you wondering if anything else has been taken care of. Going through the kitchen you start to realize that all the little things that’s been waiting to be fixed are now working perfectly: the handle on one of the drawers, the loose tap, the shelf that’s been crooked for a while, it’s all perfect now.

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out wearing a pair of black sweatpants, his hair is wet and he has a towel hanging from around his neck.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you arrive,” he breathes out throwing the towel to the back of one of the chairs around the dining table.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago. Hey, did you fix my kitchen?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“Uh, yeah. Took a look at the stuff that seemed off. Also fixed the shoe rack near the door and the hangers in the bathroom.”

“Oh wow. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Didn’t you tell me to fix the place up while being here?” he teases you with a smirk as he leans against the table.

“That was just a joke.”

“I know,” he chuckles softly. “But I really didn’t have much to do today so I thought I might make myself useful.”

“That’s… actually very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“So how was your day?” Harry asks as the two of you are chewing on the pizza, sitting at the dining table.

“Why are you making small talk like we’re a married couple?” you scrunch your nose, taking another bite from your slice.

“What, I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just you are usually not,” you point out.

“Or you are just never around when I decide to be nice,” he grins. “You usually just burst into my place, handcuff me and then bring me in. That doesn’t give much time to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t cuff you if you didn’t try to run away the first time I wanted to bring you in,” you retort shrugging.

“Okay, first of all, I was not expecting you to just kick my door in and have a fucking knife pointed at my throat, of course I tried to escape! And second, I quite enjoy being handcuffed by you, so I guess it’s not that bad.”

That smug smirk is back on his lips again and you wish you could just wipe it off sometimes. He is so full of himself!

“You are always coming with this cuffing thing. Get a hold of your kinks, Styles.”

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on. I bet you’d like that, if you haven’t already been cuffed in the bedroom,” he snorts, taking a big bite, the sauce dripping a bit from the corner of his mouth that he wipes with the back of his hand.

“My kinks are none of your concerns,” you sternly reply, but it just makes his grin wider.

“Oh, so you do have kinks! Tell me more about them!”

“Well what are yours?” you retort, hoping it would shut him up, but it has the opposite effect on him. Leaning back he swallows the food in his mouth before starting the list.

“Well I do love getting handcuffed, I’m into spanking, both ways. I have a weird thing for—“

“Alright! I’ve heard enough!” you cut him off. “Stop, just… stop,” you breathe out.

“What?” Harry chuckles, clearly enjoying the situation more than you’d want him to. “Don’t tell me you’re too prude to talk about sex.”

“I’m not,” you answer right away.

“Okay, then tell me about your kinks!” he teases you some more. Snapping your eyes at him you can tell how much he is enjoying making you so uncomfortable, but you also know that he thinks he’ll just make you blush and you won’t tell him a thing. So you decide to give him his own medicine.

“I do in fact like to be handcuffed, I love a good spanking, when my ass cheeks turn red from the slaps, that makes me cum very hard. I love a good old choking and I particularly enjoy giving blowjobs because I don’t have a gagging reflex, makes men go fucking nuts when I have them down my throat to the last inch, I get off their reaction easily.”

Harry’s lips part as he stares at you with a stunned expression, he definitely did not expect that answer, or any answer at all. That face alone makes up for the slight anxiety that took over you talking about what you really enjoy in the bedroom. Your eyes wander down and a triumphant smirk tugs on your lips.

“Don’t be such a horny teenager, I can see your dick getting hard,” you tell him before flipping the pizza box closed and walking into the kitchen you put the remaining of it into the fridge.

“You are such a tease, Y/N,” he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “But it might backfire, because now I’m gonna get off thinking about spanking you,” he grins at you, but you just shrug, heading to the bathroom.

“Do whatever you want, fantasizing is free,” you tell him before locking yourself in the bathroom.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t think about him in the shower. As your hands move down your body, your fingers wander between your legs, gently playing with your clit while thinking about Harry spanking you. Knowing that he is kind of into the same things as you makes your fantasies even more vivid, but you don’t let yourself get off. You wouldn’t want him to hear you moan under the shower, he would tease you about it forever.

When you’re all done you step out of the bathroom only to get startled by Harry who is standing right at the door, wearing only his boxer briefs.

“Shit!” you gasp, snapping your hand to your chest.

“You took awfully long in there, Y/N,” he smirks at you, but you just roll your eyes at him. “If you ever need help washing you back, don’t be shy to ask me to join.”

“Keep dreaming,” you mumble under your breath as you walk past him and make your way into your bedroom.

“I already do that!” he calls after you before you shut the door closed.

Throwing yourself to your bed you take a deep breath closing your eyes. If he keeps up this act, you have no idea how you’re gonna survive having him around any longer.

Two days go by in the same manner. You spend most of the day out doing your usual stuff, you actually manage to catch another guy who was a small reward, but it’s more than nothing. Harry usually has dinner ready and waiting for you by the time you get back home. During these two days he has fixed up basically everything that wasn’t working in your apartment, freeing you from doing it yourself for probably twice as long as he did.

You sit and eat together, Harry usually tries to get under your skin with some more flirting that you return with a cold shoulder, but then, when you’re lying in the comfort of your bed or standing under the hot water in the shower, you always find your thoughts wandering off to the man on the other side of the door.

Ashamed to admit, but you’ve gotten yourself off once thinking about him. You woke up in the middle of the night from a quite hot dream that, of course, featured a shirtless Harry and you just couldn’t stop yourself from bringing you some relief. For a little while your hands weren’t yours, you imagined that Harry’s big, calloused and ring clad fingers were moving against your body and you needed every drop of self-control not to moan his name out as you came. You blame it on him being so comfortable shirtless around your place, he has been really making himself feel home. Not that you’re complaining, he is a sight for the eyes certainly, but it’s also giving you a hard time.

Robert soon asks you to swing by the station to discuss some details about Harry’s case. You can tell he couldn’t dig up anything helpful, he would have already mentioned it through the phone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything that can be useful in further investigation.

“So, I’ve caught wind of Axel Morris being involved in the death of the victim, but we haven’t been able to recover any evidence that would point towards him, unfortunately,” Robert explains as the two of you sit in his office. “Didn’t want to bring him in for questioning either because then Hugo would find out we are after him.”

“So what can be done now?”

“I’m… really not sure, Y/N. If Axel doesn’t magically confesses the murder on tape, I’m not sure I can do anything to help Styles.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you’re trying hard to think of what to do. This can’t end like this, there has to be a way out for Harry…

“Look. I know you’re trying to cook up something to help Styles, but I’m not sure I can give you much time.”

“What do you mean?” you ask with a puzzled look.

“I mean that…” He glances at the door and then leans closer, speaking more quietly. “If I had a guess where he could be found, I would say he is at your place as we are speaking. I can’t let a guy walk free who is wanted for murder, Y/N. I eventually have to bring him back.”

“Alright, alright. Just give me a few more days. I’ll figure it out,” you plead, running your hand through your hair. Robert sighs, shaking his head.

“You have three days. That marks ten days since the warrant has been out. If you don’t bring me evidence by then, I’m sending the guys to your place to get him.”

“Three days, alright. I’ll… figure it out. Thanks, Robert,” you nod, leaving his office in a rush.

You have three days to find evidence against Axel and free Harry, but how do you even start? You’re good at what you do, but this is kind of out of your field and you’re not sure you can deal with it.

Walking around town you try to come up with an idea, but end up doing what you always do when you’re stuck on a case. Thanks to your work you’ve built up quite a web of connections, you always know someone who knows someone who is exactly the person you need. So sitting at a diner, munching on a late lunch you start calling your connections to see if you can dig up anything that could help.

A few hours later the situation becomes brighter and you finally have a somewhat useful plan so you head home to let Harry in on what you’ve come up with.

He is seemingly surprised when you arrive home earlier than the usual, he is sitting at the dining table, a bowl of instant noodles in front of him as he is watching some video on his phone. Like usually, he is only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his tattooed abdomen on full display.

“Oh, hi! Something happened?” he asks, concern showing in his eyes as he watches you kick your shoes off and storm into your bedroom, going straight to your wardrobe to dig up one particular outfit. “Y/N?” you hear him call out for you, his voice coming from your door.

“Yes! I knew I still had it!” you cheer in triumph as you hold up the latex set that clearly leaves very little to the imagination. When Harry sees it, his eyes go wide and his imagination probably gets wild for a moment, because he clears his throat as he looks at you puzzled.

“What do you need that for?”

“It’s part of my plan that will get us evidence against Axel Morris.”

“I’m not really following, so please elaborate?”

“I talked to Robert, he said we need to get him to confess. Now, I made a few phone calls and found out that our friend, Axel is a regular at this strip club called Siren. I’ll pretend to be a dancer and wrap him around my fingers and get him to confess while recording. You said it yourself, he is a real dumbass, I’m sure I can make it work.”

Harry stares at you frozen for a long moment before he lets out a heartfelt chuckle and now you’re the one confused about what’s really going on.

“S’cute you think I’m letting you close to that man. Funny, that was a good joke. Alright, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, walking back to the dinner table, but you chase after him.

“It’s not a joke, Harry. Pretty much our only chance to get you out of this mess!”

“You are not going anywhere near that guy and that’s not up for debate.”

“Not that you can tell me what to do!” you scoff at him.

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shakes his head sitting back to the table, stirring his pasta around with the spoon.

“I certainly know, and this is pretty much your only chance to save your ass, Harry.”

“Not if it means you go near Axel, nah,” he shakes his head calmly, as if it wasn’t even an argument and he had the right to grant you permission.

“Well, I’m doing it and you can’t do anything about that. I’m going in tomorrow. I know one of the dancers, she is helping me set it all up,” you shrug, your attitude meeting his careless one, but he doesn’t like your answer, not even a bit.

“Y/N, you are not going there!” he snaps, standing up, the chair falling back from the sudden movement. “That psycho killed a man or did you forget about that?!”

“Okay, so what’s your plan to save your ass? Because there’s literally no other choice,” you retort giving him a frown as you march back to your room and Harry follows you.

“But it won’t be you dressing up as a stripper, seducing a fucking murderer to get him to confess!”

“So then what is it going to be?!” you snap at him facing him again. “Because Robert gave me three days to sort things out before he comes here and takes you in himself!”

“Then I’ll go to jail! No big deal!” he throws his hands into the air like it was just a minor inconvenience and not a case of murder that could put him behind bars forever.

“Are you fucking insane?” you laugh in disbelief. “You’re willing to lose the rest of your life for what? Nothing at all?!”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. You are not getting yourself into this mess and it’s not up for debate.”

“You hold no control over me, Harry!” you scream at him at this point, fed up with his bullshit.

You find yourself pinned against the wall in a blink of the eye, Harry is pressed up against you, hands grabbing onto your forearms as he keeps you in place firmly, one of his thighs coming between your legs as his face is dangerously close to yours now. He knocks the air out of you for a moment and you stare back at him with parted lips for just a split second before your instincts kick in.

You easily knee him in the crotch, giving you just enough opportunity to grab one of his wrists and twist it behind his back, forcing him to get on the ground, growling in pain.

“Fuck! Y/N!” he groans, snapping his other hand against the hardwood floor. You give him another squeeze as a warning before letting him go and he falls to the ground for a moment before he pushes himself up to sit on his heels.

“You still think I can’t protect myself against a man?” you sneer at him walking over to the bed to grab the outfit that was tossed to the side in the hustle.

“Shit, I think you broke my dick!” he breathes out hunching over and you just smile to yourself as you hand the outfit up to the side of your wardrobe.

“Don’t be such a crybaby, you’re fine.”

“Don’t think so, might need a get-well kiss on it though,” he smirks through his painful expression and you roll your eyes at him. How is he still at it when you just kneeled him in his crotch? “Okay, your message came through very clear though, but I’m still not a fan of your plan,” he sighs finally standing up from the floor.

“It’s gonna be easy, I’ll get him a little drunk, offer him a private dance, make a move and get him to talk. If he really is that dumb like you said, I can easily get him to open up, just gotta make sure he is focusing on something else,” you explain gesturing towards the outfit on the hanger.

“You can’t wear that, Y/N.”

“This is what strippers wear, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“My problem is that it’s like… nonexistent. There’s no textile at all!” he rages, still eyeing the red latex set.

“Are you… jealous?” you ask, starting to get a feel of what’s really going on. Harry’s head snaps in your way and the look in his eyes answers your question even when he tries to hide his real reasons.

“Jealous of you becoming a stripper? I bet I can make more than you if I became one,” he scoffs smugly.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking jealous!” you laugh, enjoying this one in a million moment. “What’s next, you have feelings for me? Are you gonna confess your undying love?” you tease him.

“Okay, you had your laughs, that was enough. Excuse me if I’m looking out for you and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t get all smitten with me now. I’ve been doing just fine without you so far.”

“Yeah, how many people did you bring in for murder?” Harry questions and that leaves you without an answer. Not that you don’t know it, but because the number is exactly zero. You’ve been doing your job for quite a while and there’s been all kind of cases under your hands, but not murders. Though you are completely capable of defending yourself, you’re not sure you want to deal with monsters who took a human’s life. The only reason you took Harry’s case was because you had an inkling feeling from the very start that he did not do it.

“Just as I thought,” Harry scoffs. “Listen, if you really want to do this then I’m going with you. No way I’m gonna just sit around here and wait to see if you make it back home.”

“How do you plan on leaving the house? Someone might recognize you and then it’s game over.”

“I’ll just… disguise myself,” he shrugs. “Can’t be that hard.”

You never thought the day would come when you see Harry Styles wearing a fake mustache and a ridiculous wig, secured with a beanie to his head. The moment the two of you finish his disguise, you can’t hold your laughter back. He looks so damn ridiculous, you can barely breathe through your laughter as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I look like a fucking pedophile,” he shakes his head chuckling as he pushes some fake hair out of his forehead. “Where the fuck did you find this wig?” he snaps at you in disbelief.

“Does it matter? You look so fucking bad!” you laugh hysterically and Harry just stands there, waiting for you to finally stop, but it seems like he is not bothered by your reaction. He probably finds it equally funny too.

It’s currently seven pm, you have to head to Siren soon to start your fake shift as a stripper and you haven’t been able to talk Harry down from following you, so there you are, getting ready to fool everyone around you. Harry with his awful disguise and you with your stripper outfit.

When you finally catch your breath you leave Harry in the living room to get ready as well. Following a heavy makeup with dark, smokey eyes, you also put on a wig, a short, red bob that’s part of the outfit. Then you squeeze yourself into the latex, the tiny top barely covering you, the skirt is not even a skirt, rather than just a belt. As an extra to the fit, you’ve put on a red corset, though it’s more so you can hide the voice recorder since the original outfit doesn’t give too many places to do that. You pair it all with fishnet tights and a pair of black, thigh-high boots. As you check yourself out in the mirror you don’t even recognize yourself. Y/N is officially gone, the girl in the boots is… Crystabel.

Opening the door you step out of your bedroom, Harry is standing in the middle of the living room, busy with his phone so at first he doesn’t even see you walk out.

“Ready to leave?” he asks, eyes still on the screen of his phone.

“I… guess?” you breathe out, feeling extremely self-conscious in this revealing set.

When Harry finally looks up his mouth drops open. He is not even trying to hide his hunger as his eyes rake down the length of your body. He takes his time to take in every inch of your exposed skin before his gaze settles on your eyes behind your long fake lashes.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and it gives you quite the confidence boost.

“You like it?” you ask, striking a pose as you push your hips to the side and place your hands on your waist.

“I-I’m… I’m fucking speechless,” he chuckles as you walk closer and grabbing the strings of his hoodie, you tug on the playfully while he is still shamelessly checking you out. “I don’t know how I could live this long without seeing you like this.”

“You are such a flirt,” you roll your eyes, but just as you are about to step away from him he grabs you by your waist and pulls you against him firmly. Your hands move to his broad shoulders right away, trying to keep your balance in his hold.

“I might be a flirt, but you are the hottest woman I’ve seen and I admit I will be fucking jealous of every man that’s gonna lay their eyes on you tonight.” His voice is low, full of lust and if it wasn’t for his funny disguise, you would have melted right into his arms in a heartbeat.

“I can’t take you seriously with this mustache on,” you chuckle softly, running your fingers over the fake facial hair, the pad of your fingers slightly touching his soft lips underneath.

“Just wait until we get back home and I get rid of it,” he smirks and winks at you, making you chuckle, but you can also feel yourself blushing at his words.

You put on a trench coat to cover the racy outfit as the two of you make your way to the club. Harry is driving, but you took your car in case someone might recognize him near the club. Arriving Harry parks at a darker corner in the parking lot and he pulls out a little box from his backpack.

“Alright, let’s wire you up, Love,” he smirks as you undo the coat and let him help you get the devices situated on you.

The voice recorder gets pushed into your stomach, hiding behind your corset. It’s thick enough that it doesn’t give away that anything is hidden under it, it’s just a little uncomfortable for you, but you are sucking it up.

“Here, put this into your ears,” Harry hands you an earpiece that you place into your right ear, hiding it with your wig. “It’s not the best quality, but you’ll be able to hear me and I’ll hear everything around you. We need a safe word if anything happens so I know I have to go inside.”

“This is starting to look like a spy movie or something,” you mumble under your breath as you start buttoning your coat again.

“Don’t turn it into a joke, Y/N. Axel might be a stupid jerk, but don’t forget he killed that man. He doesn’t care if you’re a woman or not, or if you’re a real stripper or not.”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh nodding. “How about… cherry?”

“Okay. Use it if you are in trouble or someone is hurting you or anything.” You nod, fidgeting with the end of the coat, but Harry grabs your hand and makes you look at him. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want you to play the hero.”

“I won’t, calm down. I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before getting out of the car and heading to the backdoor. Glancing back one last time you see Harry standing at the hood of the car, watching you intently as you disappear from his sight.

Sienna, who is helping you tonight is already waiting for you at the backdoor. You met her a few years ago when you caught her abusive ex and took him in. She said she owed you one for freeing her from that asshole and now you are finally here to collect that favor.

“Damn, you look good!” she grins, pulling you into a short hug.

“You think it’s gonna be alright?” you ask, pulling the coat open to show her the whole outfit.

“Fucking fantastic. No men will be able to focus on anything than your boobs,” she snorts, pulling you inside.

The plan is easy. You won’t be out all night, Sienna will be your eyes and when she spots Axel arrive, that’s when you come into the picture. Sienna will escort him to a secluded area and tell him he has a free lap dance which will be, of course, performed by you. Some flirting, some seducing and hopefully Axel will be dumb enough to let a some sort of confession slip.

Sienna takes you to the changing room and you stay in the corner, trying not to be in the way as you watch the girls get ready. There are ten girls in total, five of them are dancing tonight, the other five are servers, but they still dress like dancers. They all wear equally revealing outfits, just like you and as you watch them move around so confidently, you start to get more and more nervous. What if Axel figures out you’re not a real dancer right away? Or if he notices the recorder pushed into your stomach? This plan is definitely not the safest you’ve ever come up with, and you are starting to doubt yourself now that you are so deep in it.

“Y/N?” you hear Harry’s faint voice in your ear. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out and hearing his voice calms your nerves a little.

“Everything alright?” First you nod, but then you realize he can’t see you.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Are you nervous?”

“Very,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. Luckily, Harry doesn’t bring his usual cockiness out, feeling how serious the situation is.

“You can still come out and we can just go home. You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to do this,” you firmly answer. “Just… talk to me a little. Please.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you about when I wanted to ask you out to prom,” you hear him start and you can’t push a smile down as you sit and wait, listening to his soothing voice. “You were wearing this pretty white sweater that day and tight jeans, you looked so fucking good, Y/N. I saw you walking to your locker and you smiled at some random guy and I was instantly jealous.”

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“O, yeah,” he chuckles. “I told you, I had a crush on you. So I thought about asking you out, wanted to just walk up to you and casually ask if you wanted to go with me. But then I just watched you and realized that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me, so I just watched you get your books out of your locker and then you walked right past me, looked me in the eyes and I straight up felt my knees turn into jelly. Good thing I was leaning against the wall. You walked away and I never asked you out. Still regret that,” he admits and your heart flutters at his words.

As weird as it sounds, you remember that day. Especially because when your eyes met Harry’s you felt kind of the same. You felt intimidated and wondered why he was watching you so intently, but you would have never guessed he wanted to ask you out.

You see Sienna walking in, her eyes find you and you immediately know it’s show time.

“Harry?” you breathe out at last.

“Yeah?”

“I would have said yes,” you tell him before you follow Sienna out and the blasting music pushes down Harry’s voice in your earpiece.

The bright lights of the back are switched to the dim, red lighting in the main bar area, a dancer is already on the stage and the place seems packed for the night as all men are hungrily watching the girl on the stage, throwing dollar bills at her shamelessly.

Sienna pulls you to the bar and leans closer to your ear so you can hear what she is saying.

“He is in one of the private rooms, told him the dance is on the house to thank him for being a regular. I asked one of the guards to stand nearby.”

“Thank you, S,” you nod at her as she squeezes your hands.

“Good luck, girl,” she smiles a little bitterly before she shows you the way to the room where Axel is currently waiting for his private dance.

As you stop at the door you take a deep breath, staring at the doorknob for a moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever is about to happen in there.

“I’m going in,” you say, partially to yourself, but mostly to Harry so he knows what’s happening though you don’t hear an answer before you open the door and step inside.

The room is mostly what you were expecting, a small stage with a rod in the middle, across that a long, plush, deep burgundy couch. The walls are black, just the red led lights illuminating the place.

And there he is. Axel Morris is sitting in the middle of the couch, manspreading so widely like the asshole that he is, arms leisurely draped across the back of the couch as his hungry eyes immediately snap to your body.

Axel is big. He is a large man and you realize that the moment you see him. Though he is sitting you can easily tell that he’s tall and he is definitely bulky. Could end you in a blink of an eye and knowing that he is capable of murder is just an eerie thought that doesn’t leave you alone. But you suck it up and get into character, only thinking about one thing: help Harry out of this mess.

Music with low bass starts playing through the speakers as you make your way over to Axel who grins at you disgustingly, making it hard for you to keep the façade.

“Hey big boy, heard you’ve earned a dance for yourself,” you coo at him stopping at the edge of the stage as you keep eye-contact with him. You lean against the edge and spread your legs just enough to tease his imagination about what’s about to come.

“Hell yes, I did! Hope you’re a good dancer, babygirl. Haven’t seen you around here.”

“I’m new. But I’m really good, that’s why they sent me,” you smirk at him sweetly as you walk closer until you’re standing in front of him. He reaches out and grabbing your hips he pulls you to straddle his lap and it catches you by surprise but you don’t fall out of character.

“Then show me what you can do. What’s your name?” He licks his lips as you start moving, doing your best from movies you’ve seen with strippers in them.

“Crystabel, but you can call me yours,” you hum, grinding and bouncing yourself, completely unleashing your inner hoe. “Tell me, big boy. Are you as dangerous as you seem?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he grins proudly.

“Really?” you coo, pushing yourself up against him. His dirty hands find your ass and you want to push them away so badly, but you let him have his way with you for the sake of the plan. “What’s the worst you’ve done?”

“Why does a pretty girl like you want to know about that, huh?” he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you with suspicion so you know you have to be careful.

“Because I have a thing for those stuff. I love pain and blood, it gets me off always,” you smirk at him teasingly, grinding yourself against him to divert his attention a little from the words spoken.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yeah, I love that kind of stuff,” you moan, running your hands down your chest, his eyes hungrily following your every move and you know he is zoned out. It’s going perfectly.

“Well, I’m the perfect man for you then, babygirl. I’ve done all the things you can imagine.”

“Really? You are turning me on, big boy,” you murmur lowly, turning around for a bit so he can get a good glimpse of your backside as well. “Have you… taken anyone’s life before?” you bluntly ask, hoping you aren’t moving too fast and he won’t snap at you.

“Not sure I should be talking about that with you, pretty girl,” he smirks smugly. You turn back to face him, pushing your crotch against him as you try not to gag feeling his erection under you.

“I’m good with secrets, Honey. My lips are sealed,” you grin at him, stroking his oily face and try your best not to wipe your fingers into the cushion of the couch. Axel smirks at you, clearly enjoying the show you are putting on, his fingers are digging into your thighs as his eyes are practically glued to your chest.

“I’m a killer, babygirl.”

“Yeah?” you gasp, faking your excitement. “What did you do, big boy? Tell me, make me wet,” you purr biting into your bottom lip, pushing your chest out some more to distract him from his consciousness that might keep him from answering.

“Killed a guy recently,” he smugly admits and your adrenaline is high in the sky. You are so close to what you need!

“Oh my, sounds like a dirty job.”

“It was.”

“Saw it on the news a guy got killed not long ago, did you do that?” you smirk at him, his hand slapping your ass and you fight yourself not to punch him in the face.

“That Richards guy? Yeah,” he nods and you almost start screaming in your triumph. This dumbass really did just confess to you, because you had your ass and tits out for him!

“Cool. What’s your name, big guy? Wanna know who I’ll think of when I touch myself later,” you pant into his ear, you need him to say his name otherwise the confession might go to shit.

“I’m Axel, babygirl,” he grins, leaning dangerously close to you, he clearly wants to push his tongue down your throat but you push yourself away and up from his lap.

“Our time is up, big boy. See you later!” you sing and walk out of the room while he is still kind of zoned out.

The moment you are out, you start running. You can’t have him realize what just happened and stop you. Pushing your way back to the dressing room you grab all your stuff and spring out of the building. Harry is standing at the entrance, his ridiculous disguise is gone as he spots you with wide eyes. He probably heard everything and wanted to be there for you when you get out and as soon as you reach him he grabs your hand and the two of you run to the car. Right when you get into the car, you spot Axel running out from the front entrance and he definitely realized what just happened.

“Hey! Get back here you slut!” he shouts as Harry starts the car and you melt into the seat, scared of what’s about to happen because you see Axel reach to his back and the next thing you know is that he has a gun in his hand.

“Harry! Go!” you scream when you see him aim at the car and right at that moment, the wheels screech as Harry pushes the gas pedal to the fullest and the car yanks forward.

Your heart drops to the floor when a bullet shoots into the side of the car as Axel tries to stop the two of you. Harry takes a sharp turn and leaves the car park with full speed. You see Axel from the mirror, he is raging and keeps shooting after you, but he has no aim or whatsoever. You reach the end of the street and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Oh shit, fuck,” you mumble, chest heaving as you grab onto the armrest for some kind of leverage, your adrenaline is still pumping through your veins from the action movie-like scene that just happened.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Harry asks, eyes dancing between the road ahead of him and you as he tries to figure out if anything happened to you.

“I-I’m fine, he was just… fucking nasty to deal with you,” you groan at the thought of his hands on you. You’ll need the hottest shower after this, that’s for sure. “Go to the station, we gotta bring the tape in now,” you tell him as you reach into your corset. Pulling the recorder out you huff in relief, it’s been pressed into you for way too long. The tape is still rolling so you end it and then rewind it, checking if everything you need is on it. Luckily, it caught the whole thing perfectly, that means Harry is not going to jail. Well, not this time at least.

He is speeding down the streets as you get rid of the wig and put on your coat, you don’t want to walk into the police station dressed like a hooker and have the word spread that Robert’s sister has been making money some other way lately.

Arriving to the station you hold the recorder so tightly as if your life depends on it while Harry reaches for your other hand and firmly holds it in his warm palm. You walk inside and immediately spot Jeremy at the front desk. Letting go of Harry’s hand you run up to him.

“Jer, I got evidence for the Richards case! I got a confession on tape,” you beam at him holding the recorder up. He gives you a stunned look as he takes the recorder.

“Confession? How do you—“ He is cut off when you hear Harry’s voice from behind you.

“Hey! What the fuck!” he snaps and as you turn around you see that two officers are already on him, trying to handcuff him. Jeremy quickly forgets about the recorder as he joins in on strangling Harry. but you grab his arm and try to pull back.

“No! He didn’t do it! Listen to the tape!” you cry out, desperate to end this mess, but it feels like no one is listening to you.

“Harry Styles, you are under arrest for the murder of Dave Richards. You have the right…” One of the officers starts saying the usual speech as they drag Harry away while you are begging to Jeremy to listen to you.

“Jeremy! He didn’t fucking do it!” you scream, tears rolling down your face.

“What do you mean?” he asks giving you a puzzled look. It was Axel Morris! One of Hugo McKain’s men! They are trying to frame Harry!” you explain, while Harry is being taken away. “Harry, no!” you shout after them, but the officers don’t stop.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll be fine!” he calls after you before he disappears from your vision.

“Jeremy, please just listen to the fucking tape! I got his confession!”

“I’ll look into it, but I’m afraid Harry is spending the night here,” he sighs, looking down at the recorder before he walks away.

“Fuck, no!” you choke out.

When you finally stop crying you rush out of the building and call your brother, not even caring that it’s past midnight. He better answer your call or you are showing up at his house and start banging on his door until he opens it.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growls into the phone.

“Robert, they fucking took Harry in! I had the confession on tape, but they just wouldn’t listen, they arrested him!”

“Hey, slow down, what are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath you tell him the whole story. The club, the dance, the confession and then how you came straight to the station but they arrested Harry without listening to you.

“Alright, you can’t do much now, Y/N. He is still a suspect but I’ll call Jeremy to look into the tape. If it’s found relevant Harry will be out in the morning okay?”

“Please come in early in the morning and make sure he is let out, please!” you cry out, feeling so helpless after everything that just happened.

“I will. Meet me at the station at six, okay? It’ll be alright. Go home, have some sleep and then we’ll make everything right in the morning.”

You do as Robert asked, go home, have a shower, wash the night off of your skin and lie in bed however you are not able to sleep, not even for a minute. You keep thinking about Harry and what might be happening to him now. They better get their shit together and let him out in the morning or you are losing your mind. You didn’t go through all this just to have him put behind bars anyway.

It’s not even six when you are already at the station, anxiously waiting for Robert to show up. You keep glancing up at the building, thinking about how Harry is somewhere in there and you can only hope he’ll be out with you shortly.

When Robert arrives he goes straight up to check out the situation with the tape and Harry. Waiting for him down in the hall is nerve-wrecking, you feel like time has stopped. When he finally appears again you jump to your feet running up to him with high hopes.

“The tape has been examined, it was classified as evidence. Jeremy has already put out an arrest warrant on Axel. Harry is no longer a suspect. He’ll be down once the paperwork is done.”

“Oh thank God!” you breathe out and throw yourself at him, hugging him tighter than ever.

“Look, but there is something I need to talk to you about,” he says with a serious look.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We might be able to get this Axel guy, but I’m pretty sure Hugo is already after the two of you. We have a whole team for him, working on catching him finally, but it might be smart if you just left town for a little.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds logical,” you nod.

“Let me know if you need help with that. I can arrange something for you.”

“We’ll see. I have to talk to Harry first.”

“Harry, huh?” Robert smirks down at you knowingly and you feel yourself blushing. A lot has changed lately around you and Harry and you guess it’s quite evident for everyone else as well. “Just so you know, he asked about you during the night. Wanted to know if you are alright.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out with a small smile.

“Yes. Might have been wrong about him a little. Tell him I said hello, I need to get to work now,” he nods with a fond smile.

“Thank you, Robert!” you call after him as he waves in your way before disappearing in the elevator.

Waiting around in the hall you keep looking towards the hallway, hoping to see him appear finally, but the minutes are just dragging by way too slowly.

You’re impatiently sitting on one of the benches by the wall when you finally see him walking down the hallway, leisurely running his hand through his hair, a tired smile sitting on his lips when he sees you leap from your seat and launch at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Hey, hey! It’s all good, Love. Told you not to worry about me,” he chuckles, but holds you tight anyway, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you off the ground, taking a few steps forward.

“Of course I fucking worry about you, idiot!” you mumble into his neck before leaning back you look at his pretty face.

“Yeah? Does this mean I had the right to worry about you last night?”

“You were?”

“Fuck yes,” he laughs. “You have no idea what it was like to sit outside and listen to everything that fucker told you. Wanted to punch him in the face so badly.”

“So heroic,” you grin at him, your face already inching closer to his, arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Only for my favorite stripper,” he winks at you, making you gasp.

“If you dare to bring it up again and call me a stripper, I swear to God I—“

You don’t get to finish your threat, because his hand snakes to the back of your neck and he pulls you into a hard kiss, his lips smashing against yours. Melting into the kiss you open your mouth for him without hesitation, his tongue meeting yours as he kisses you with so much vigor and passion, he makes you bend your back, leaning back as he holds you firmly in his strong arms. And suddenly, you feel like you’re seventeen again, making out with your high school crush in the school hallway, luckily, you are kissing the same person you wanted then.

“I’m fucking starving, babe,” he breathes out once you finally pull away from each other. “For you as well, but can we get some real food?” he asks as he laces his fingers together with yours, heading out of the station.

“Sure,” you chuckle. “Hey, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Love, told you, you can handcuff me to the bedframe, I’m into that stuff.”

“Shut up!” you laugh smacking his chest as the two of you walk out to your car. “It’s not about that,” you murmur with a soft blush. “Robert said we should leave for a while, Hugo might be after us after what happened last night.”

“Yeah, thought about that myself too,” he nods as he gets behind the wheel without even asking if you want him to drive or not.

“So what should we do?” you question, sitting in the comfort of your car. Harry reaches for your hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly before he smirks at you.

“Have you been to Ireland, Love?”

“No,” you breathe out, a little stunned by the question.

“I have a friend over there, I’m sure he would love to have us there for a while. What do you say?”

“Are you for real? You want to go to Ireland with me?”

“Yeah, would be fun, don’t you think?”

“Okay,” you smile in awe. Even after that kiss you had doubts he would want to run away with you for the time being. But he is definitely planning to have you around longer. “Yeah, Ireland sounds fun.”

“Great. Then let’s head home to pack,” he smirks, starting the car. “Oh, Love?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to bring your handcuffs,” he grins and you just laugh at his smugness before leaning closer to kiss him quickly before the two of you finally drive away from the station.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[babycracker]

morgan/m!oc (tanner drake) ~1.7k words mature (swearing, blood, minor violence)

suggested by and written for @kelseaaa, i hope you like it!! <3 it's only been like really roughly proofed so if you see some mistakes, no you don't lol

--

Tanner's felt this before; the whole world freezing around him like this. Everything fading away and going silent and slowing down until it's like the world has ended and he's the only person left.

The last time was when his world had ended, when he'd seen his sister on the ambulance stretcher, bloodied and torn up. Dead.

He wasn't sure he was capable of feeling enough for it to happen again, not until right now. He watches the Trapper pull the modified prod out of Morgan's side only to plunge it back into her shoulder as her knees buckle and she goes down.

The gas mask the Trapper's wearing suddenly makes sense when he hears glass smashing and a cloud of red mist filters through the air all around Morgan.

"No-" his voice catches in his throat, the word barely choking its way out of his mouth and he takes a step towards her as the Trapper pulls the prod out again.

She's fine. She's fine. Vampire healing and all, she's fine.

Only she's not fine, her hands landing heavily on the ground in front of her as she coughs and blood spills from her lips.

"No, no!" He finally gets his voice working, breaking into a run towards her but faltering when the Trapper spots him and bolts.

He hesitates, watching the man run off, his shoulders twitching subconsciously as the struggle to keep his wings hidden almost becomes too much.

He could catch him easily. Could catch him and do to him exactly what he's just done to Morgan. But slowly.

But she's hurt badly, he realises when he glances back over at her just as she falls to her side on the ground.

"Fuck," he mutters, casting one last fleeting glance towards the retreating form of the Trapper before shrugging his jacket off. "Fuck."

He balls the clothing up and holds it over his face as he advances through the red mist to get to Morgan, panic forcing him down onto his knees beside her when he sees her eyes closed and blood flowing freely from the wounds in her shoulder and side.

"Hey," he reaches out and shakes her, his voice muffled by his jacket. "Hey!" A little louder, he nudges her a little harder, but still no response.

He looks around, wincing against the red cloud beginning to sting his eyes and seeing the rest of Unit Bravo starting to get the upper hand against the Trappers.

He takes a deep breath and holds it, dropping his jacket and hoisting Morgan up in his arms. He's never wanted to hear her snap at him for coddling her as much as he does right now, but there's nothing. Her head lolls back against his arm, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth and running in a line down her cheek.

He exhales heavily once he's gotten them both out of the DMB cloud but doesn't stop for a breather, instead carrying her straight over to Lucas' beat up car and gently laying her in the back seat.

"Tanner!" He hears Farah yelling to him and spins around, but her eyes widen when she catches a glimpse of Morgan before he closes the door, and she gives him a slight nod before turning back towards the fight.

--

This hurts like a bitch.

It's all Morgan can think about when her eyes snap open before closing again just as quickly in response to the harsh lighting of what looks like a hospital room.

Her shoulder and ribs feel like they're on fire, her lungs feel full and heavy, her head is throbbing. What the hell had happened to her?

She groans, everything hurting that little bit more when everything starts to come back to her; the fight with the Trappers, the volt rod she received, the DMB.

She lifts a hand to her head, rubbing lightly at her temple when she hears movement beside her, and then Farah's voice, uncharacteristically quiet. "Just a sec, I'll get them to dull the lights."

"Okay, you should be good now," the familiar and comforting voice speaks again, and Morgan opens her eyes to see Farah perched on the end of her bed, the room now considerably darker.

"Too soon to talk about how shockingyou look?" Farah asks quietly, a small grin crossing her face when Morgan manages a slight smirk at her efforts.

"One might say you've probably been in a cloud of worry over my well-being."

Farah's eyes widen and she shakes her head. "Nah, this isn't right, that cloud did something to your brain, since when do you make puns?"

Morgan raises a middle finger at her before easing herself up into a sitting position and then leaning back against the headboard, her brow furrowing as she fights back a groan at the pain shooting through her from the movement.

Then, she sees something that she wouldn't have guessed she'd see if she were given unlimited tries.

Tanner. His tall frame sprawled uncomfortably on the armchair beside the bed. He's missing his jacket, his shirt is untucked and has patches of dried blood on it, his tie loosened and hanging crookedly around his neck. He's fast asleep, mouth hanging slightly open and snoring softly, the sound so familiar to Morgan that she hadn't even noticed it until now.

"What's he doing here?"

She doesn't miss the small smile that Farah doesn't even bother trying to hide as she replies. "He brought you here. Been telling anyone who tells him to leave to F off."

"How long have I been here?"

"Nearly two days, you were messed up pretty bad."

"He's been here the whole time?"

"The whole time."

She looks back over at Tanner with a frown and Farah pats her knee gently before getting to her feet. "I'll go let everyone know you're awake."

Morgan barely hears her go, the questions flooding her mind too loud for her to be able to focus on anything else. Why is he here? Why did he stay here? Why is he covered in blood? Why is he so pale and tired looking even while he's sleeping?

Why does she care?

He shifts a little in his sleep and she hears one of his joints crack loudly with the movement; apparently he's been asleep in that awkward position for a while. The sudden shock of pain wakes him up and he groans as he unfolds himself and gets to his feet, lifting his arms above him as he stretches out.

His eyes find hers as he drops his arms back down to his sides again and she can literally see his shoulders sag in relief as he mutters a barely audible "thank Christ."

"Welcome back, sunshine. Thought I'd lost you for a minute there." He grins, but his tone is more serious than the expression seems to be trying to convince her of.

He sits on the edge of her bed, reaching briefly for her hand before deciding against it and dropping his down onto the mattress beside it instead.

"You brought me here?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, "in Lucas' piece of shit car. Would've been quicker to fly you here and just stop for a breather every few minutes."

"Why'd you stay?"

He shrugs, studying her face carefully for a moment before answering quietly. "I had to make sure you were going to be okay."

They both fall silent for a long while until Tanner finally kicks his shoes off and nudges at her gently. "Move."

"Excuse me?"

"Move over."

"Why?" she asks uselessly, already slowly manoeuvring herself closer to the side of the bed.

"Because I haven't been able to get you in bed for days and this is my chance," he answers seriously, making her roll her eyes.

The familiar calm that she always feels with him washes over her the second he lays down beside her. He pushes her lightly to turn away from him, scooting closer and pressing himself up against her back, carefully sliding his arm around her above the wound left in her side by the volt and holding her firmly.

He kisses her shoulder lightly, just beside the wound in that before relaxing against her, his face nuzzling into the back of her neck with a soft sigh.

She really wants to complain. Who does he think he is, hovering around her for days as though she were some kind of invalid? Telling her to make room in her own hospital bed? Spooning her, for fuck’s sake.

But he makes the beeping of the hospital equipment in her room a little more bearable. Makes the scratchy sheets of the bed, the sterile hospital stench, even the pain of her slowly healing injuries, makes all of it easier to handle, and before she even realises how at ease he's put her, she's fallen back to sleep.

--

"Is Tanner still in there?" Adam asks Farah over his shoulder, and she nods.

“He was sleeping.”

“And you didn’t think to wake him?”

“You want him awake; you wake him up,” Farah replies with a small chuckle, the grin remaining on her face when Adam doesn’t reply.

She just about smacks into his back when he pushes the door to Morgan’s room open and stops in his tracks, staring into the room. She stands on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder, letting out a tiny, excited squeak instead of the squeal she feels in her heart at what she sees.

Tanner and Morgan, spooning, asleep together in her bed. Adam lets out an almost disgusted sounding and impatient sigh before turning and brushing past Farah back out of the room.

“We will let her rest for now,” he mutters over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall.

Farah grins at Nate, grabbing his arm and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Look how cute they are!”

“He and I don’t get along,” Nate pauses, peeking into the room and letting his lips curve into a soft smile. “but even I have to admit, that is impressive.”

“And sweet!” Farah insists, drawing a chuckle from him before he gently pulls her out of the room and lets the door close quietly behind them.

“Yes. Very sweet.”

--

tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @homeformyheart @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @fhauvilles @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @kat-tia801 @alyssalauren @winterkeys @agentnolastname @utterlyinevitable @masonscig @graysinblack

[therenlover]

Five More Minutes (aka A Ten Minute Break with Imaginary Zemo)

(So uh, this is a weird little writing project I did. It’s kinda experimental and a deep dive into my messy little brain, so that’s that. I hope you guys like it, because it was just a warm up, but I decided to post it cause it didn’t turn out half bad. Sorry that it’s uber specific to me, lol)

Synopsis: A writer imagines her muse as she struggles through anxieties and self loathing. Sometimes it’s easier to pretend you’re being cared for than it is to care for yourself. 

Rating: T

Warnings; Swearing maybe? Vague references to depression and general trauma

Word Count: 2000~

------

Zemo walks through the door while I’m taking a break. 

He’s soft around the edges, watching me with a gaze that seems intent on telling me he doesn’t approve of whatever it is I had done this time. I simply regard him with a quiet nod and let my eyes drift closed once again. The bed is warm below me but a cool spring rain pours down heavy and hard outside the open window. I like to write with the breeze flowing. It helps me focus on more than wanting to sleep. This is a break, though; a small allowance of time where I can fold my hands behind my head and relax without worrying about my next deadline. I stretch my legs out further, recumbent, as he sits at the end of the bed. 

“Look who decided to come back home,” I taunt him, “How long has it been? A week? Two?” The bitterness is a farce, a facade I put up more for my own benefit than his. 

Helmut sighs before he replies, “I shall always return when you call me, Schatz,” 

“It doesn’t feel like you will.”

“Despite that, it is true,” Slowly, from behind the darkness of my still-closed eyes, I hear the soft clink of china. Interesting… I let one eye open just a sliver to peer down the bed. Helmut is sitting there, eyes full of that special adoration he holds just for me, and in his outstretched hand, he holds a steaming cup of tea. Hedging my bets, I begrudgingly set my laptop aside and reach down to take it from him. Something is better than nothing and I haven’t had water in hours, maybe days. He knows that all too well. Why else would he have brought tea?

The first sip is taken silently while Zemo simply gauges my reaction to his presence. He and I both know that I can be… picky when it comes to his affections. If they come at the wrong time I am almost certain to deny him. This time, though, he arrived at a just-right place between sleep and work that allows me to give in to his endless and thorough affections. The tea is warm and sweet, and I finish the cup less than a minute after he handed it to me. 

That makes him smile. It’s infectious. Less than a minute later I’m smiling with him. In a simple moment, all the ice that had built on my heart in the wake of his absence had melted. All it took was some good tea and his presence, strong and constant at my side, to ease the discomfort from weeks apart. 

Helmut is the one to break the silence. 

“Did you get my gift a few nights ago?”

I nod, sitting up a bit to scoot to the end of the bed. “You were the one who dropped off dinner?”

“Of course it was. I’m here to aid you, my love,” for an instant he pauses, something akin to jealousy flashing across his face, “I may be… absent sometimes, but no one else here can help you the way I do. I don’t really see why you keep them around, quite honestly. Most of them are selfish pri-”

“Helmut,” I warn him, and he backs off. He always does if I ask him to. His loyalties lie firmly in my comfort and my comfort alone. 

“The point is, you are mine and mine alone to care for. If not always, then when I can,” 

“Well, I appreciate it,” 

A practiced hand makes its way to my bare knee, exposed by my shorts. I don’t complain. Helmut is here to help, and if rubbing away the aches caused by the rain is what he wants to do, I have no objection. His digits massage it with care. The constant steady pressure is grounding. To ease the process I beckon Helmut further up onto the bed. In just a moment of shuffling, I find myself between his legs with my back to his chest as he restarts his gentle probing of my knee. I let my head rest against him and just breathe. There’s a peace to it. 

Neither of us feels the need to move. 

Somewhere outside the room, we can hear Andrea begin to practice his violin. The sweet sounds are more relaxing to me than they are to Helmut, who hates the reminder of his housemates, but he can’t deny that the boy plays well. He would like to think, though, that he plays better. I don’t pick favorites, but it’s one battle that I wouldn’t want to miss, should things come down to it. 

We stay like that for a while, him massaging my aching joints while I use his broad, soft chest as a pillow, but eventually, he speaks again. We both know what’s coming. I’m just not quite ready to acknowledge it yet. He always broaches the subject when it’s time. 

He knows I couldn’t do it if I tried. 

“You’re pushing me out again,” his voice is a low hum, “why must you always push me out just when I’ve gotten close to you?” He presses soft kisses to my hair as I sigh. It’s my turn for words but I know I can’t say them. Not to him and not to anyone else. Instead, I let myself turn cold again. 

“Maybe if you were more useful, I’d keep you around more often. Besides, you’re a grown man. You can come and go as you please. If you wanted to stay, you would,” 

“We both know that’s not true,” 

Helmut’s right. He always is. That doesn’t mean I ever listen to him, but when he softly coos in my ear about eating or resting he’s always right, I always need it. Sometimes I think it would be better if I gave in. I never do though, it’s not worth the fallout that would follow. 

Still, I let myself get a bit closer to giving in this time. Just close enough that I won’t feel so raw once he’s gone again. A modicum of extra comfort can be allowed from time to time if used sparingly, and I take the word sparingly very seriously.

“Five more minutes,” I whisper into his warm skin, “Please, I just want five more minutes,” It’s not a question, it’s a plea, and not to him. No, it’s a plea to the universe, to the cruel god that separates us…

To myself. 

Helmut removes his hand from its place rubbing out the aches in my wrists and lets his arms wrap around me, encasing me in his warmth and holding me tight to his body. He’s warm. So, so warm against the frosty chill of my own skin. 

“Of course, Schatz. I will always have five more minutes for you,” 

If Helmut had his way, he’d have every minute of my day. He doesn’t, though. He can’t. Five extra will just have to do until he finds a way to creep back through my door and into my good graces. Then we will have five more minutes again and again until there’s nothing left of us and no more minutes left to spend. Until then, the game goes on. 

Outside, the rain pick’s up its pitter-pattering into a full downpour. 

The water comes in through the opened window, but neither of us moves to close it. Water damage doesn’t matter where we are anyway. Especially not when the timer is ticking down. 

I cry when I croak out words again. 

“I don’t understand why I can’t let you stay,” I say, throat dry with angry tears, “I don’t understand why I do this to myself,”

It’s a lie, we both know exactly why I push him away, but Helmut bites his tongue. We don’t speak of those things, the things that creep deep in my mind and pull the strings of my marionette. That’s not his job. Part of me wishes it was. 

Instead of trying to explain away my reasons for doing what I do, though, Helmut simply holds me tighter. “Someday, you won’t have to. You will be happy, Schatz; happy and free to rest whenever you feel the need to. I may not be here to see it, but it will happen, and when it does you’ll know just how proud I am of you,” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise,” 

His heart thuds heavy under my ear, his weight a constant against my shoulders. If I close my eyes tight enough I can hear him humming a tune. The clock ticks down the seconds till his departure. I cling to him for every last second that I can. 

“Should I send someone else in when I leave?” He asks softly. 

I shake my head no. 

“Not even Laszlo?”

“Not even Laszlo,” I sigh. What I don’t say is that the pain of his absence will numb me of everything once he’s gone. What he doesn’t need to know can’t hurt him. Instead, I offer up some half-assed explanation from nowhere, just to make myself feel better about the lie. “He only helps me write the academic stuff. Fiction isn’t his wheelhouse,” 

“Ah,” Helmut whispers, and as he does I can feel him start to shift away. Five minutes always pass too fast in the arms of a lover. I wipe my tears as he collects my teacup. “When will you call me back to you,”

“Soon, I hope,” 

“But when?” 

He asks not for himself, but for me, because he knows what happens when I don’t call him back to me. He’s seen it in the circles rimming my eyes and the ribs that jut painfully from my skin and most of all in the wheezing coughs and winces that escape my lips when I breathe too deep. It’s my choice to make, though, and mine alone. 

I hate that I can’t give him a straight answer. 

“Maybe tonight, if I’m lucky, you can come in and hold me while I sleep,” It’s an empty promise, just short of a lie. It doesn’t matter though. It’s as close to the truth as I can bear to acknowledge for myself when my eyelids droop lower by the second. Unfortunately, I probably won’t sleep at all. 

“No dinner?” There’s no disappointment in Helmut’s voice, but I wish there was. Instead I’m met with acceptance. he knows me well enough that there is no fighting my self destruction, only easing it. 

“I’m too behind,” I explain, “It would take too much time. This break was already pushing it. I have three fics to finish by Friday and if I don’t…” The consequence went unsaid. 

Helmut nods, stoic. “I shall see you again when you call on me next, Schatz,” 

With that, he’s gone again and I’m alone. The chill from the rain sinks deep in my bones as I scrub the remaining tears and sleep from my eyes before grabbing my laptop again. Maybe if I worked a little harder, I could manage to sleep through the night or eat a whole meal. Helmut would be back then, as real as I could will him to be, to serve as a reminder and a companion through it all. 

The words on the screen seem like a foreign language. Sleep that has evaded me for days threatens to creep into my mind but I shove it out forcefully and turn up the brightness. Sleep won’t help me now, not with the aching in my heart that screams at the slightest bit of rest. The ache doesn’t have a name like the self care does, or the softness or the anger or the book-smarts. The ache is just me. 

The rest are too, but less so. They’re easier to accept that way. 

I push on.

Just a little more work… just a couple more tens of thousands of words…

Alone again and wetted by rain and tears, I weep and write.

------

a/n: Basically, Helmut is a personification of my ability to care for myself. I always want to, and I resent myself for not doing it more, but I just... can’t. Andrea and Laszlo are both also technically representative of feelings in my brain, but those feelings aren’t specified here. I hope you enjoyed that weird little ramble, though! It was nice to deep dive into my brain in a weird way and do some good, old fashioned therapy writing. I’m a slut for a good extended metaphor.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 37

Warnings:  angry Tyler.  Is that a warning? lol

Tagging: @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @thorsbathroomchicken, @innerpaperexpertcloud @valkyrie-of-the-light

It’s been two days since the incident at McMann’s house, and the worst of the physical aftereffects have begun to dissipate.  The pain that lingers in the shoulder has lessened; nothing more than a dull, throbbing ache that settles right in the joint and often travels straight down to his fingers. The black eye is at its peak, a vivid shade of purple and some blue that spreads to the top of the cheek and over to the side of his nose. The scalp is still tender to the touch, but the headache is gone, and he’s no longer plagued by periods of dizziness and nausea; the concussion…or at least the worst of it…now behind him.

They’ve been in hiding for forty eight hours.  No contact with the outside world aside from phone calls home and the video chats with Nik on the FBI’s secure satellite link. Even Yaz has stayed his distance; working closely with Mark on finding any information regarding Heather McMann’s -and the children’s- whereabouts. It’s been nothing but dead ends.  McMann hasn’t attempted any communication; there’s been radio silence from his end of things. Yet Tyler knows he’s out there. That either he…or someone he’s recruited or hired…is just lying in wait for the chance to get revenge. In McMann’s eyes he’s crossed a line; going to the house without permission, discovering the things he had, leaving four men dead in the backyard. He’s out for blood now.  The need for finding his children now outweighed by the need for vengeance.  He’s in on it. Working side by side with his wife; a sick and twisted game that only leads to more questions and dead in.  Tyler just can’t prove it. He knows there’s a connection, but he can’t seem to find what he needs to join all the loose ends. While Heather’s abduction was very much stage, the nightmare the kids are being put through is very real. What is the purpose? On faking one but following through with the others? With weaving a web so tight and so intricate? And what kind of sick person uses their children like that in the first place?

Proof. He needs proof.

And answers. So many answers.

He leaves Esme sleeping and journeys out onto the balcony; a cup of coffee from room service in one hand, SAT phone in the other, and he takes a seat on one of the plastic chairs and places his feet up on the metal railing.  He’s tired; mentally and physically. It’s six in the morning; eleven at night -previous day- in Colorado, and he briefly considers calling the house phone before dialing Ovi’s cell instead.  He doesn’t want to wake the kids, or startle his mother in law, or even let Nik know that he’s reaching out.  He’s tired of things being sugar coated; of being told that everything is fine when his instincts are telling him that they’re far from it.   Maybe the kids aren’t feeling it; they’re little and still so pure and innocent and the only thing that matters to them is that mommy and daddy call at least once a day.  And eventually come home. But he knows there is more going on than what Nik is telling him. Things have been so fucked up from the get go and there’s no way some of that hasn’t reached Colorado by now.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, after Ovi’s given the standard ‘what’s up?’ and a loud yawn.  

“I was starting to doze.  The kids made me sleep in the backyard in the tent. Again. This is the fifth night in a row. My back hurts.”

“You guys aren’t out there by yourselves, are you? There’s guys keeping in eye on things, yeah?”

“There’s a few,” Ovi confirms. “They switch out every couple of hours.”

“Have the kids said anything? About why these guys are there?”

“They’ve asked a couple times. Why there’s people walking around and checking things out. I just told them that it makes you and Esme feel better that they’re here. That you guys hate being that far from home and you worry about them and having people here makes you worry less.  That makes them happy. They like that answer.”

“And they’re doing okay?”

 He misses them…misses his life…terribly. So much it’s physically painful at times.   And for a brief second he wishes he could back in time; to when they still been in that little apartment in Australia, before Ovi had started receiving all those threats and photos.  So he could make a different decision. Say no when it became apparent that his help was needed and there was no one else would could do the job. Things would be so different.  They never would have gotten caught up in that kind of bullshit; they’d never would have ended up in Mumbai and then back in Dhaka. Where the nightmare had started in the first place.

The other side of him holds onto the old adage that ‘things happen for a reason’.  If  he’d never gone to help Ovi the second time around, the chances were slim to none that he would have become part of their family. He’d never would have gone to see Mahajan Senior and pushed the issue of guardianship and Ovi would have been stuck in Mumbai and the vicious circle of him always needing Tyler’s help would have continued. Gaspar had been right about that; there was no way to keep him safe with his old man in jail. And the kid still would have never known what it was like to be loved. To have people that legitimately care about him and his well being.  They hadn’t just taken Ovi in to protect him, but to give him somewhat of a normal life. The chance to respected and seen as a person, not an object. To be loved.

“They get a little sad every now and then,” Ovi says. “They miss you guys.  TJ is taking it the worse. He gets really upset. Really angry.”

“Yeah, unfortunately he’s got a mix of his mother’s sensitive side and my temper. So he tends to go off from time to time. No more fights? No one has beaten the shit of anyone lately?”

“No lately. But Millie is a lot tougher than she looks. She totally kicked his ass.”

“She’s small, but she’s mighty. Like her mother.  She’s a force to be reckoned with that one.  But other than that, they’re okay? They haven’t driven anyone to drink excessively yet? Grandma hasn’t found a bridge to jump off of? That that would be a horrible thing, but…”

“No,” Ovi laughs.  “Everything is good. No one has gone crazy. Yet. Chloe is really good with them. She has a lot more patience than I do. And they really love her.  They like having her around.”

“Yeah?” Tyler grins. “I bet you like having her around too.”  

“Maybe,” Ovi sheepishly admits.  “Just a little.”

“That’s how it all starts. You get used to having them around, you realize how much you like it when they are, you don’t ever want them to leave, and the next thing you know, you’re married and you’ve got four kids and one on the way and…”

“Wait? What? I think there’s something wrong with the connection.  I thought I just heard you say one on the way? Is that what you said?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “We just found out. Two days ago.  You’re the only back home who knows. So if you’d just keep it on the down low for now…”

“This is amazing!” Ovi gushes. “Another baby! You guys make such cute babies.  You should have more. Like two or three more and…”

“This is the last one. We’re done. We’re closing up shop. Five will be more than enough. Besides, in a few years you’re probably going to be out on your own and you’re going to find someone to have your own babies with.  You won’t need to rely on us to get your baby fix.”

“I’m not going anywhere for a long time,” Ovi declares.

It’s the immaturity creeping in; the trauma that been inflicted on him making him seem so much younger than his years. As if he’s the old Ovi again; that terrified and scarred yet trusting teenager that got him to open up about his own life and the mistakes of his past. It seems like a lifetime ago; when he’d had nothing to lose and death seemed like a welcome escape. Now death is what terrifies him the most. Back then he would have welcomed it, now he’s desperately trying to escape it.  

“I just want to stay with you guys,” Ovi says.  “Forever.”

“Well, we don’t mind if you do. We kind of like having you around. But one day you are going to want to move on with your life. We’re not always going to be the most important people in your world.”

“Yes,” Ovi says. “You are. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay. With you and Esme. And the kids. I’d miss you all too much.  You guys are my family.  You’re not my real parents, but you’re still my parents. You’re still my mom and dad. Even if we don’t have the same blood and our skin isn’t the same.”

Emotion chokes at him; stunned by the teenager’s heartfelt honesty.  He’d never really considered himself to be the kid’s dad. A big brother, maybe. A father figure for sure. But he’d never used the ‘d word’ and Ovi had never dropped it until now.  But he knows he loves that kid; like one his own.  And he’d lay his life down on the line for him the same way he would for the kids he’d actually had a hand in making.  

“I’m happy for you guys,” Ovi says.  “That you’re having another baby. That I get another brother or sister.”

“Well if Esme has her way, it’ll be another girl,” Tyler smiles at the mere thought of it. Having another little girl. One that looks like her mother; dark hair and huge dark eyes and a smile that can bring even the strongest of men to their knees. “ I think she’s tired of there being so many guys in the house. And Millie definitely will not want another brother. She wanted to trade Declan in for a puppy when he was born.”

Ovi laughs at that.

“Look, mate,” Tyler begins, and take a swig of coffee. “I need you to be straight with me. When I ask you what I’m about to ask. Because I don’t think I’m getting the honest truth from Nik. And I need you to tell me the truth. Even if you think it’s going to piss me off. Can you do that?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t need you to think so. I need you to know so. Because this is fucking hard; being so far from my kids. And I don’t trust a lot of people and I’m over here trying to put all I have into guys I’ve never even met. I’m trusting complete strangers to take care of my kids and it’s fucking killing me. There isn’t a second of the day that goes by where I don’t want to say ‘fuck it’ and get on the next plane and come home.  So I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay,” the kid sounds nervous, but steadfast.  “I’ll tell you the truth.”

“How are things really? Because shit is hitting the fan over here and I’ve pissed some people off that won’t think twice about bringing trouble there.  They won’t hesitate getting revenge on me by going after my family. Because they know that’s what would hurt the most. What would destroy me. They won’t come after me because they know it would take a lot to kill me. So they’ll resort to doing anything they can to break me.”

It still haunts him. What he’d seen when he’d found Erin Ferguson in that room.  The things that had been done to her. The way her naked body had been mutilated and put on display. And he knows…with one hundred conviction…that if they’d been caught in McMann’s ‘bunker’, the things they would have done to Esme would have been even worse. And they would have done whatever it took to make sure he was fully conscious and able to watch what they were doing.

There mere thought makes him feel sick to his stomach. Tears burn his eyes. And he squeezes them shut as tight as he can in hopes of ridding himself of not only what he saw, but what he imagines he could have seen.

“How are things there?” he asks. “How are they really? Don’t bullshit me, mate. I need the truth.”

“The kids are doing really good. They’re behaving themselves and Chloe and I are making sure we keep them busy and happy.”

“I don’t mean that. I trust you. You’re one of the few people I do trust. I know the kids are in good hands. What I need to know is if there’s been anything weird going on. If there’s been any kind of trouble. Any suspicious shit going on.”

Ovi sighs.  “Nik told me not to talk to you about this…”

“Fuck Nik. I stopped listening to Nik a long time ago.  She thinks she knows what’s best for me and in reality she knows shit. What’s going, kid? Tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s been some things,” he reluctantly admits.  “Nothing too bad, but…”

“What kind of things?”

He knew it was coming. That it was bound to happen. As soon as he’d nearly crushed McMann’s throat and he became enemy number one, the clock was ticking. He went from being the only one who could save the McMann kids to being the first on the other man’s shit list.  For that alone he wanted to tell McMann to go fuck himself and just get on the next plane home. But he can’t. His conscience won’t let him.  Those kids are still out there. Still being tortured in some kind of sick and twisted game being conducted by their own mother. If he doesn’t get them out, no one will. And that guilt and blame will follow him forever.

“People calling the house and hanging up. There were some pictures. Someone put them in the mailbox.”

His stomach lurches. “What kind of pictures?”

“Pictures of the kids. Out on the street. Some of them at school. Pictures of Esme and Millie together downtown. Pictures of all of you together.”

In the grand scheme of things, pictures are relatively harmless. It’s the threat that usually accompanies them or follows them that’s the issue.

“What else? I can tell there’s something else, Ovi. What is it?”  He doesn’t use the kid’s name that often, as strange as it sounds. The last time he’d used in while addressing him personally was when the kid had still been in the midst of all his mental health issues and causing all kinds of shit at home and they’d had an epic blow out about it.

“They showed up at the house.”

His chest tightens. As do his hands. The left one immediately forming a fist so tight his knuckles crack and start to turn to white. The fingers of the right pressing into the sides of the phone with enough force to crack the plastic protective covering. There’s no anxiety. No fear. Just rage. Pure, unadulterated rage.

“They? Who is ‘they’?” he asks, and he can hear it in his own voice; his temper threatening to take hold. In the same way it had when he’d nearly broken McMann’s neck with his bare hands.

“I don’t know.  Three guys. They came here looking for you.”

“Did you see them? What did they look like?”

“I didn’t see them. I only heard them. As soon as Nik saw them pull into the driveway, she made me take the kids into the basement. Where you’ve always told me to take them in case there’s trouble. But I could hear them. Talking to her. They had accents. They weren’t American.”

“Were they Irish? Were they Irish accents?”

“No. I would have recognized that for sure.  They almost sounded just like you. But different. Words sound a certain way when you say them. You have slang words for different things. Their slang words weren’t the same. But their accents sounded a lot like yours does, but they were still different at the same time.”

“New Zealand? Were they from New Zealand?”

“I don’t know what New Zealand people sound like,” he admits.

“They sound like me. But a little different like you said.    Shit…fuck…” he drags a hand through his hair. His brain can’t quite possibly handle trying to put this all together on its own. The meds, the damage that had been when he’d lost so much blood and been oxygen deprived, the depression, the anxiety…all working together to completely fuck with him.

It doesn’t make any sense. He all but expected McMann to send someone. He’d been waiting for it, actually. But someone connected to the Buckman family? And why the fuck would they show up in Colorado in the first place? They have to know he is already Ireland, or else he wouldn’t have been made the second he got on the damn plane.

It’s a ploy. It has to be. Either a  scare tactic to get him off the trail in Ireland and have him running back home to protect his own family, or to actually make sure he isn’t in Colorado, meaning that his family is alone and vulnerable.

“Do me a favour,” he says to Ovi. “Go on the internet and look up New Zealand accent. Go and google it. Do it right now. Don’t hang up. Go and look it up and listen to it and then tell me if it’s the same.”

“Okay…”

He sits with an elbow on his knee and his palm pressed to his forehead; the adrenaline has started to stir. And he can’t stop himself from vigorously shaking his thigh from side to side or repeatedly tapping his toes against the concrete below; top teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“It’s the same,” Ovi confirms when he finally returns. “That’s the accent I heard.”

“You’re one hundred percent sure? I need you to be one hundred percent sure, mate.”

“I’m sure. No doubt about it. I know that’s the accent I heard.”

“Okay, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I want you to do everything I say, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Go into the garage. You know where the loft area is? Go up there. There’s a trunk with a lock on it. I’ll text message you the combination. There’s money in there. A lot of money. And there’s weapons. Lots of them.  I need you to take both, understand me?”

“I understand.”

“I want you to take the kids and Chloe and get them the fuck out of there. Even the dog. Take him too. He’s what will keep the kids from losing their shit. I want you to get away from the house. I don’t care if it’s just to Denver or if you have to go to an entirely different state. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going and do not call anyone except me when you get there. Tell Esme’s mom to go back home. Tell her I said not to talk to anyone. That if someone comes to her place looking for information, she doesn’t give them any. Are you getting all of this?”

“I am,” he confirms.

“I want you get a different cell phone. To call me from. Even get Chloe a new one. Use some of the money I told you about. You don’t use any phone but that one to get in contact with me, you hear me?”

“I do.”

“Do not go back to the house unless I tell you too. You find a place for all of you to stay and you keep your ass there. The only time I want you leaving is if you think people have found you.”

“What about Nik? What do I tell her?”

“I’ll worry about Nik. I’ll deal with her. She won’t want me to, but I will.  I’ve to go. I’ve got shit I need to piece together somehow. As soon as I hang up, you start getting everything going. Do not contact me until you’ve got a new phone. Get rid of the other one. Burn it, stomp on it, I don’t give a shit. Just get rid of it.”

“Okay…” he sounds nervous. Like that fourteen year old kid back in Dhaka. “Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“Things are going to be okay, right?”

“I hope so, mate,” he says.  “I really hope so.”

****

He leaves a hastily written note on her pillow; right next to her head, so she won’t miss it.  She’ll panic if she wakes up and not only finds his side of the bed empty, but him missing from the room entirely. So he let’s her know that he’s gone to see Yaz, and that if he’s not back in an hour after she discovers the note, THAT’s when she needs to start freaking out.  And he tells her not to open the door. To anyone. Not room service, not housekeeping , not even Mark if he shows up.

He takes the stairs as opposed to the elevator. Less chance of running into someone; the confined space of the elevator only putting him at a serious disadvantage if someone did climb aboard with the sole intent of causing trouble. He takes the stairs two at a time; the rage has fully taken over, making him numb to any physical pain that he knows he should be feeling. He’s pissed off; at McMann for holding back information, at Heather McMann for using her kids and allowing people to abuse and torture them, at Nik for keeping the truth from him, at whoever has the goddamn nerve to show up at his house. At himself for even getting mixed up in such a godawful shitty mess.

He reaches Yaz’ room and pounds his fist against the door. To hell with your average, normal knocking.  He is way beyond being being polite; all decorum and niceties completely out the window. And when he gets no answers, he uses the toe of one of his boots to get the job done; repeatedly slamming it against the wood until it violently shakes and makes an audible crack.

“What the fuck, man?” Yaz speaks from a slit in the door; not opening it farther than the chain will allow.

“Open the door.”

“No. This isn’t a good time. Can’t you read? The sign says ‘do not disturb’.”

“Open the fucking door, now!” Tyler bellows, and Yaz gives a started blink and then hurriedly tends to the chain.

“What the hell is wrong? What…?”

He pushes his way into the room. “Did you know? About the people that came to my house? Did you know about that?”  And it’s then that he sees the half naked woman in Yaz’ bed, frazzled and embarrassed, trying her best to throw on some clothes.  The waitress from the coffee shop they’d visited their second day in town.

“Do you mind?” she shrieks.  

“Yeah, I fucking do! Get your shit…” Tyler snags the remaining apparel off the floor and tosses it at her. “…and get the fuck out!”

“Don’t argue,” Yaz address her.  “Not when he’s like this. Not when he’s capable of tearing us both to pieces.”

He paces the room as Yaz helps his guest get herself sorted and out the door; raking his hands through his hair, wincing when his fingers come in too close of contact with the stitches in his scalp.  The rage is intense; almost unbearable. Sweat beading on his brow, forming at his temples, his breathing irregular.  He knows he needs to get it together; Yaz isn’t the enemy. And at this point he’s liable to beat the ever loving shit out of him if he even glances at him the wrong way.

“What the fuck man?” Yaz snarls. “Do you see me interrupting you when you’re about get laid?”

“I don’t give a shit where you were about to stick your dick, mate.  I don’t give a fuck if it was the waitress from the coffee shop or you hired a hooker. Did you know? About what’s been going on at my house? About the pictures? About the phone calls? About people showing up there?”

“Tyler…just calm down, man…just…”

“Did you fucking know?!” he snarls, and Yaz holds his hands up in a plea for mercy when he takes a step towards him.

“Okay…okay…you need to just take a breath and calm down…”

“That’s my family! That’s my fucking kids! There’s people sending shit to my house! They’re showing up there. Where my fucking kids live! Don’t you tell me to take a breath and calm down.  Did you know about it? Did your sister tell you?”

“Yes…” he reluctantly admits. “…she did. But…”

“But? How can there be a but?! You knew that people were threatening my family and you didn’t tell me?!”

“Nik asked me not to. She knows what you get like. We both know what you get like.  I mean, you’re here, flipping your shit on me.  I’m not the enemy here, Tyler. I’m not the one that is threatening your family. But you’re acting like I’m personally involved in it somehow.”

“You knew and you didn’t tell me. That makes you just as bad. So don’t give me that shit. Don’t play the victim.”

“I knew if I told you, this would happen. That you’d completely lose it.”

“Do you blame me? Do you really fucking blame me? Those are my kids, Yaz. My family. The only reason I’m still alive and I didn’t put a bullet in my head years ago. They’re the only reason I keep doing this shit; trying to solve everyone else’s goddamn problems while my own life feels like it’s falling apart! It never should have come to this. I should never have gotten mixed back up in this shit. When your sister asked four years ago, I should have told her to go fuck herself and to find someone else.”

“But you didn’t. And you know why?”

“I’m fucking brain damaged, that’s why. Maybe the doctors shouldn’t have worked so hard when I coded in the OR. Maybe it would have been better if they’d just let me die. Because I wouldn’t be here right now putting up with all this bullshit! I wouldn’t be thousands of miles away from kids while some asshole is sending people to prey on them.”

“If you’d died, those kids wouldn’t even exist,” Yaz reminds him. “Your life, the one you know, wouldn’t exist.”

“Yeah, and maybe that’s the way it should have been. None of this existing. Because my kids shouldn’t have to put up with this. My wife shouldn’t have to put up with this; me taking off to fight other peoples fucking battles and not even taking the time to fix ours.”

“I thought things were good. I thought…”

“I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about when she kicked my ass out because she was tired of me breaking her goddamn heart all the time. And yet she still took me back.  Even though I didn’t deserve another chance. I promised her it would be different. That I’d be different. And now look. Now look at the fucking mess I’m in. That I’ve brought her into. She deserves better than this, Yaz. She’s always deserved better than this. Better than me.”

“You’re each other’s ride or die,” he says. “Always have been. Since the beginning.”

“Well I’d rather my wife not die, if it’s all the same to you.  Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you keep this from me?”

“Nik asked me to.”

“Excuse me for saying this, but fuck Nik.  You should have told me. We’re friends. We’re friends and this is my family we’re talking about.”

“She knew if you found out that you’d leave. That you could back home.”

“Do you really blame me? I should go home. I should get on the next plane out of here and go home to my kids. Because they need me. Now more than ever.”

“The McMann kids need you too.”

“I’m sorry if this sounds harsh or makes me look like an asshole, but my kids are more important to me than those two.”

“And they should be.  But you need to do this. And you know you need to do this. That you need to stay and find them. Would you be able to live with yourself, Tyler? Knowing you left them hear to die.”

He shakes his head, giving a derisive snort.  “Don’t do that. Don’t put that on me. Don’t ask me to choose between my family and complete strangers. Because my family will come first. Every time.”

“Tyler, your family is safe.  There’s people that can protect them. But the McMann kids? They have no one. There’s no one else looking for them. There’s just you.  No one else cares. Not even their own parents. If you leave, they die. It’s as simple as that. They only have you. Whether they realize that or not.  And I know you, man. I know how your brain works. You’d go home and you’d try and go on with your life but you wouldn’t stop thinking about them. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing that you just up and abandoned them and sealed their fate.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, then sinks into one of the chairs at the table near the patio window.  Elbows on his knees,  rocking slightly back and forth; eyes riveted on the floor, the fingers of his right hand absentmindedly fidgeting with his wedding band. Attempting to calm himself; to rid himself of the intense anger that has every nerve ending on fire and his chest feeling impossibly tight.

“Look…” Yaz approached cautiously, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.  “…I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you, okay? I kept in front you because I needed you to keep your head in the game.  I knew once you found out, everything would just go to shit. That you’d be hell bent on getting home.  Your kids are safe, Tyler. They’re in good hands. But the McMann kids? They have no one. Just you.”

“I can’t solve the world’s problems, Yaz. I’m sick of this fucking life. I’m sick of putting my wife through this.  I’m sick of putting her and my kids in danger. They deserve better than that. You know they do.”

“I do. But I also know the McMann kids deserve better than what’s happening to them. Tyler, you’re all they have.”

“I don’t even know where they are. I’m no closer to finding them now than I was a week ago.”

“We’re getting closer. We know Heather McMann is involved. If we can find people who know her…if we can break her husband…”

“He’s out to kill me, Yaz. Or kill my family.  He doesn’t want my help. All he cares about now is revenge.”

“You can break him, Tyler. You know you can. If you set something up…arrange to meet him…let him know everything you know…you can break him. You will break him.”

“What if he kills me first? Then I’m no good to his kids or mine.”

“Mark and I will keep an eye on things. And he has people. Here in Ireland. They’ve been watching you for the past week. Keeping an eye on you and Esme. Marines.”

“A lot of fucking good they did two days ago when I was getting my ass handed to me by four guys and a fucking shovel.”

“That was…unfortunate…”

Tyler snorts. “You think?”

“But we get them involved. We put eyes on you. And a wire. You go and you meet with McMann and you do whatever you have to get information out of him. And if you have to kill him after you get it out of him, I heard nothing and  I saw nothing. You read me?”

He nods. “Loud and clear.”

“And we have Esme going tonight to talk that IRA guy. The bartender, so…”

“No. She’s not going.  She changed her mind.”

“What? She can’t change her mind. This was her idea! It was her idea to do this in the first place and now she’s bailing? What the fuck?”

“She has her reasons. I’m not letting her go, Yaz. No way.”

“Just because you’ve got some jealous hang out about her being around other dudes…”

“That is not it. Trust me. That is not it.”

“…we need her to do this. This was all her idea. This was her baby. And because she doesn’t want to upset your fragile ego…”

“Yaz…drop it. She’s not going. I told her she wasn’t and she agreed with me. I’m not taking the chance that something could happen to her.”

“Nothing will happen to her. She’ll be wearing a wire. We won’t be far away. We will get there before anything could happen. What the fuck man? I get you two have your issues but…”

“This isn’t about our issues. This is about me wanting to keep her safe. I can’t have anything happen to her. Especially not now.”

“Especially not now? What the hell is that supposed to mean? What…?”

“She’s having a baby,” Tyler confesses, and he watches as the other man’s eyes widen in surprise.

“She’s pregnant? Esme’s pregnant?

“We just found out. Yesterday. We don’t even know how far along she is. She took a test…two tests…and they were both positive.”

“Are you sure?”

“Did you not just hear me? I said she took two tests. Both positive.”

“Was this intentional? Like were you guys planning on having another one or…”

“We’ve been trying,” Tyler confirms. “Actively.”

“Jesus…” Yaz sighs, and runs a palm over his mouth.  “…I take back what I said.  I’m not pissed now that she changed her mind.”

“I can’t take the chance, mate. I just can’t.  Not just with her. But with the baby.  And believe me, I’d send her home right now if I knew she’d be safe there. But she’s not. It’s better for her…and the baby…if she stays here with me. Where I can protect her. Protect them.”

Yaz nods in agreement.  “I get it, man. I do. This is big.  This is huge.  Congrats…” he offers a hand, and Tyler shakes it. “…another Rake, huh? May God have mercy on us all.”

Tyler smirks.

“There’s a still a way you know. To get information out of this Billy guy.”

“How? I’m not sending her in there Yaz. There’s no way. So…”

“What if you both go in there. Just surprise him.”

“He’ll know who I am. I’ve been made. So have  you. That’s why we had Esme come here to begin with.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Whether this guy knows you or not. He’s not involved. This isn’t the IRA that has these kids. The IRA is pissed right? At McMann? At the Buckmans? They’re pissed and they’re out for blood. So what if you help them. What if you offer your help to get McMann and the Buckmans? What if  you worked with them?”

“Yaz, you’re asking me to team up with a terrorist organization.”

“You’re not teaming up with them to do terrorist shit though. You’re teaming up with them to get back at McMann. To get the Buckmans. To find those kids. If you go in there and just lay all your cards out on the table, tell this Billy what you’re there for and what you want from them, he’s going to go along with it.  The IRA is after McMann and if they even have the slightest inkling about where Heather McMann is…”

“It could lead me to the kids,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly! What do you think? Is it worth a shot?”

Tyler nods.  “I think it could work.”

It has to work.

[skinfeeler]

meandering diary post, or the melancholic tale of my 24-hour completely onesided romance in the context of the human condition

[[MORE]]

i've been a member of a student organisation for queer people for about half a year now. this means that i hadn't attended an introductory period yet — once an academic year, at the start of it — but that i knew basically everyone who organised it.

after a few days of miscellaneous activities that were mostly 'okay' (minus a drunk fall of my bike at some point) i knew a couple more people. still, it was nothing like the summer camp at the end of it.

the first 90% of the journey was by train. i shared four seats facing each other with three other people, including a girl who was slightly taller and a bit older than me. she had brought a wine bottle and so it happened that the four of us already started drinking at about 15, not even at the camp yet.

we got along though— especially this girl and i. we talked a bunch about the kinds of exercise/sports we like. she was my second round that day in explaining the rules of roller derby, i can do it in about 20 seconds now with the help of the images from the 'basics' section of this article: http://mtlrollerderby.com/the-rules-of-roller-derby/?lang=en w

e also talked about gender a bit. it went all right. we had a later conversation in our bunk that day where we really bonded, about trauma too and all that stuff.

"we have a bond, i think."

that was later though, for now i was still on my way. at some point i turned inwards as i sometimes do and during one of the transfers while outside she pulled me away and asked me if i was all right. i explained that i just have a few issues and that sometimes they played up. she gave me the big scarf she was wearing and told me to put it over my head and narrow my field of vision that way, just kind of hide in it. that that's what she does when she's not well. that was nice of her.

we missed the train-bus connection because we went to the supermarket of the small remote village to buy more wine, but we got picked up by a second bus a bit later.

once at the place i changed into a sexier outfit and instantly felt more confident. this was immediately crushed once people started making (completely benign) jokes about std tests. i started thinking about my own test and the rape that happened before it and just went sit somewhere with a beer bottle to be sad. one of the people who i knew was an organiser but didn't personally know asked me if i was all right and i stood up and tried to ask if we could go outside for a bit, but didn't manage to speak because i was already crying. fortunately he understood the cue. i told him about that i got triggered and he made sure to make it clear to me that the committee would do its best to look after me if i allowed him to tell that sometimes i get like this, with them not having to know what exactly. i took him up on the offer, and it helped that subsequently an organiser would occasionally come to me when i lost my vibe, which was quite often.

but in that moment just knowing people actually take it seriously was enough, and i told him that the best thing now would probably just be to rejoin the party and chug my beer, and so we returned inside and so i did.

a while later i lost a good portion of my energy again. in a fateful moment, i decided to go back to my room which i shared with others. my new friend was talking about speed with another girl, who ended up giving it to us.

"i'm done with this crap. you can have it if you want to."

i don't have the required associations to procure anything like this myself, so i thought i'd not pass up on the opportunity.

the four of us went back downstairs.

first i was cold, tired, and dull. now i possessed immense warmth, energy, and clarity, almost immediately.

i asked my friend if this is about what i should be feeling. she told me it was, but also immediately switched to her more caring tone and that i should be careful.

"if you ever want to try something, you can always do it at my place."

sounds like a fucked up bid to get me in a vulnerable situation, but given the context and her general conduct i am certain she really was just caring about me in a slightly dark way.

there were drinking games that we played in teams, in most of them chugging alcohol fast combined with skills of physical dexterity was determinant. in my current state, i was absurdly good at both on top of my usual degree of mastery and won us the tournament. it was nice to get cheered on lots— it was cool to be in a parallel dimension where suddenly the skills i had were brought up a number of times in the days after.

i had a great night. i hadn't been (that) happy in months. every moment my body was bursting with energy. i love dancing, and i especially love dancing when weird fellow mental cases who have taken it upon themselves for reasons i don't understand grasp both my hands, pull me in, and keep me very close to them. later we sat on a couch and i leaned against her and it was very nice. every time i asked her if she was uncomfortable she pet my head for a bit, so obviously i was instantly in love.

alcohol disables your mental safeguards and this can backfire. cigarettes just make you slow. speed simply solved every problem instantly.

we danced until 0400. after that we were offered a joint by someone and we passed that around in a circle so we could sleep better. it worked very well, but by the time we went to bed, it was simply almost time to get up, and they don't fuck around with schedule at student camps.

i woke up in agony because the day before i went on camp i had a really intense derby training, and when i dance, i really love to bring my hips into it. everything between my waist and knees was searing, burning, i had to stretch and massage until i took the edge off enough that i could convince myself that i wasn't injured. the night before i hadn't felt anything at all. obviously i was also more hungover than ever before, but like, whatever. because i value a varied diet and a rigorous exercise routine, i decided to take it easy from thereon, only start drinking in the evening, et cetera. i was already going to skip sunday training for this, and additionally there are a few resistance training goals that i want to meet in the near future.

these three felt otherwise. they would go on to drink all day. it was very difficult to talk to any of them, although they seemed to be having fun though. i was kind of bothered that i couldn't talk to this girl meaningfully at all anymore at some point, so during that day and the last day of camp i kind of stopped feeling something for her entirely, which was very odd, completely unlike how it usually goes for me.

we played some games, including a quiz. my team won the quiz, but not the other game.

that night most of my acquaintances were absent for the first part. the sweet autistic metalhead i met earlier had gone to her one-person bedroom to decompress, the three from the start were apparently on a walk that i couldn't safely participate in, the others were fuck knows where. i was in a really, really bad mood. i knew that speed would solve all my problems, allow me to join the dance party going on. instead i wasted away on a couch for a while.

then there was dinner, and then an awards show. two games won (the beer game counted) meant i was called in front twice and won a shot of hard liquor as a price, thus twice in a row. very convenient for my fealty to fitness, but at least nice.

afterwards, a number of friends were periodically back on the dance floor in shifts, and the shots were doing their job. the nice thing about shots is that they mean you don't constantly have to piss as with beer, so they made a nice base for the rest of my consumption that night.

i found my new favorite pop song dancing with the girl who i have a particular unbreakable fealty to— that resultant from me breaking down in her arms about a girl not liking me back earlier that year lol

that girl would eventually do some things to me that would present one of the main causes of me at times completely turning inwards and become unable to talk to people, simply looking on and knowing my humanity has been taken away from me by many people.

but right there, dancing, knowing i was surrounded by people who care about me even if i am nothing like then, i was doing just fine, despite having quietly had a mental breakdown on that couch where everything at once played up.

eventually the music selection turned to shit and i decided to do the smart thing and have six hours of sleep instead of two. some sweet angels made sure to coax me into drinking lots of water.

"you'll be grateful in the morning."

a decent night, minus the transmisogynist components of some sketch one of the members of the previous committee did. i'll talk to her about it soon and i'm confident she'll understand how it was hurtful— i had a drunk conversation with two other girls in the restroom about it and they were fully behind me and encouraged me to do this.

the next morning almost everyone was still drinking, despite the fact that most of the day we would just spend in a bus bringing us back from the middle of nowhere.

at some point i sat down on a couch and for the first time in days, took out my ear buds and listened to some music i like.

it was cathartic and i had a particular kind of realisation.

i had spent an entire alcohol getting fucked up to music i could only tolerate there and then, under bright lights and with accompanying alcohol. drinking the kind of alcohol i don't like drinking because it's what was available, hanging out mostly with people with whom i have very little in common. in general, kind of losing myself.

i knew what i needed to do, what i can do soon. all i need to do is get out of this house to a better place, get my painting station set up, keep being involved in the roller derby, and maybe somewhere along the lines i would figure stuff out for myself.

of course, there are certain social circumstances that need to happen to me too, but i certainly can't do that while inert.

i had skipped the derby's general member's meeting on friday. it was the only one of the year, and i really wanted to attend. they were discussing attendance policies, and i feel i could've really learned a lot about the members of the league from that. debates about derby as its own reward and assuming the inherent joy of cooperation versus a dedication to structured sustained development and competitivity, or any of the ways one could frame that.

i had missed a training, when i had immediate short-term goals that i could have fulfilled that training.

the other rookies like me, and so does the trainer. not because of my ability to chug alcohol really fast — although i intend to impress them at the party we apparently have soon — but because of my dedictation, fervor, and general attitude.

maybe there is a common source to the fact that i can dance better than i can talk and that i feel i'm more meaningfully together with people when i'm on wheels than when i'm not, generally speaking at least.

it feels like there's a rift between me and the rest of humanity, but a little less on the track than most other places.

but then speed also helps.

it helps everything. it makes me feel happy.

but i know i can't actually take this as often as i would need without fucking myself up. still, on our way back, alienated and exhausted, i was constantly craving it.

when we got out of the bus and a people hugged me goodbye, i did meditate for a bit on the fact that i did create many new bonds. maybe i'll get more out of them than i felt by the last day, but it's complicated.

and now i'm at friends who fed me and gave me weed to finally fucking calm down. it's all right.

i miss my friends in london who i feel separated from only by distance.

[chelsorz07]

I posted these as asks four years ago and never got to answer any so

THOUGHT YOU WERE DONE SEEING THESE FROM ME, DIDN’T YA? Me too, I’m so sorry

1. First thing you wash in the shower? Hair.

2. Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker? I have like two cups of coffee a month but have only drank booze twice in the past year so coffee I guess.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Many times.

4. Do you plan outfits? Sometimes I’ll want to wear a specific shirt but it’s rarely ever clean and I never pick out clothes sooner than right before my shower.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now? Tired but I still have to put the garbage out before I can go to bed and my neck and knees are killing me so I can’t get off the couch. But I’m in an okay mood.

6. Whats the closest thing to you thats red? Throw pillow.

7. What would you do if you opened your door and saw a dead body? Idk I’d like to say I’d be a badass about it but honestly I’d probs scream.

8. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? I legit don’t remember. I dream every night but they usually fly right out of my head when I wake up.

9. Three of your current feelings? Tired, hungry, in pain. 

10. What are you craving right now? Cheeseburger and onion rings.

11. Turn ons? Um...intelligence, wit, shoulders, eyes, ginger beards.

12. Turn offs? Arrogance, chauvinism, people who don’t like cats.

13. What comes to mind when I say cabbage? Coleslaw.

14. When was the last time you cried? Why? I was doing a concert in my living room last night, as I often do, and some of the songs got me a little emosh.

15. If you could be a superhero, who would you want to be? Black Widow or Loki.

16. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? No but she did change the way she treated me so I’m taking that for what it is.

17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it? I don’t eat ice cream because it hurts my teeth no matter which method of eating I use.

18. Favorite movie ever? Bring it On.

19. Do you like yourself? Depends on the day. Actually it changes even more frequently than that.

20. Have you ever met a celebrity? Many. None will top Jensen Ackles though. Well. Except Misha. Note the double entendre lol

21. Could you handle being in the military? I definitely could not. I’m also too old to enlist even if I wanted to.

22. What are you listening to right now? Walking Dead, season 1 episode 2. Because every time I start the series over, I pick up from episode 3 since I don’t really care about anyone but Daryl until Jesus happens. But today I felt like a refresher from the beginning.

23. How many countries have you visited? I went to Canada once.

24. Are your parents strict? They were while I was being raised. Then my little sister had like no rules.

25. Would you go sky diving? No way.

26. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush? Hell yeah.

27. Whats on your mind right now? I’m really just trying to gather the motivation to get up and pee, then take the garbage out so I can go to sleep.

28. Is there anything you want to say to someone? Ehh not really.

29. Have you ever been in a castle? No but I would tour the shit out of some if I had the opportunity.

30. Do you rent movies often? Almost never because who does that anymore? But we did just rent Mile 22 from the Redbox a few weeks ago. It was pretty meh for Wahlberg.

31. Whats your zodiac sign? Leo.

32. When was the last time you had sex? A month ago. Purely by circumstance. My husband is currently on week four of a five week work rotation in Texas.

33. Name five facts about yourself. Lord. I have rapidly deteriorating joints and it fucking hurts everywhere all the time. I’ve spent the past 48 hours going back through my entire tumblr, over 300 pages. I only make homemade mac n cheese, not boxed. I’m almost finished rereading every Desus fic on AO3 for the second time (some more than two but I mean going through literally every page). One of my cats is sitting above my head and purring really loudly and another is sitting to my left snoring.

34. Ever had a near death experience? If so, what happened? Got caught driving in a blizzard. Spun off the road several times, including once off of an on-ramp. Like do not enter, wrong direction. If I hadn’t made it to the hotel right next to the on-ramp I really would’ve been fucked.

35. Do you believe in karma or predestiny? Not really.

36. Brown or white eggs? White.

37. Do you own something from Hot Topic? Most of my material possessions are from the hot topical, yes. Clothes, jewelry, funkos, makeup, miscellaneous other merch. It’s like a lot.

38. Ever been on a train? I have not.

39. Ever been in love? I am.

40. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you do it? I hate this question. Of course I want a million dollars. But I’ve always wanted to stay in a haunted house anyway.

41. If you could trade places with any person living or dead, who would you trade places with? JJ Ackles. Except that I wouldn’t wish my life on her. Can we just be siblings instead?

42. If you could shorten your life expectancy by 10 years to become more attractive, would you do it? I’m already attractive. And my life expectancy isn’t that high as it is.

43. Whom do you admire and why? My husband because he does crazy shit like work 35 days in a row when he’s only supposed to work 14 just to make sure all our bills are paid and we have savings because I’m too crippled to work at all right now.

44. What was your favorite bedtime story as a child? I didn’t get bedtime stories.

45. You’re walking down the street, you come across a burning building. A woman says her baby is trapped inside, what would you do? I am literally capable of doing nothing, except maybe let her use my phone to call 911 if she hasn’t already.

46. If you could choose the future profession of your son or daughter, would you? No. I can’t even choose my own profession.

47. What was your best experience on drugs or alcohol? Idk about best but my most recent one was pretty good. I hadn’t had alcohol in over a year but a few weeks ago my sister turned 21 and we had family game night at my parents’ house so I got a little buzzed on some grapefruit White Claws and for about four hours I wasn’t in physical pain. Plus we all had a really good time just hanging out and playing games and everybody got along. That has 100% never happened in my family before. Also the last time I smoked weed, which was MANY years ago, like 6 or 7, it had the same effect and reduced my joint pain.

48. What was your worst experience on drugs or alcohol? Worst with drugs was the night I smoked an entire joint just in my living room alone and it must have been strong shit because I threw up immediately. Worst experience drinking was probably all of 2010.

50. As you’re walking down the street you find a suitcase full of money sitting next to a parked car, would you take it? Probs I’m desperate and not that great of a person.

51. If you found that a close friend has AIDS, would you still hang out with them? Yes? WTF kind of question is that? It’s 2019, AIDS isn’t cooties.

52. In front of you are 10 pistols, 5 of which are loaded. If you survive you’d receive 100 million dollars. Would you be willing to place 1 to your head and pull the trigger? Depends what kind of pistol. If it’s a revolver you can see the rounds in the barrel. 

53. How old were you when you lost your virginity? 20.

54. Do you believe in ghosts, werewolves or vampires? Nope. Well I still haven’t ruled out ghosts but I also know how to dispatch them so.

55. If you could live forever, would you want to? HELL naw.

56. Which fictional movie character most resembles who you are? Janice Ian.

57. If you could go back in time, which time period would you visit? We love a renaissance.

58. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? Probably.

59. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? Not even for like a day.

60. If you could choose the sex of your unborn child, would you want to? Yes. I want a girl. Come for me.

61. Would you rather live longer or be wealthy? I want that money beech.

[ellie-bee242]

If You’re Lucky-Part 2

Heeeeeeyyyyyy guys! How you doing? Hope this chapter finds you well!

Okay so apparently a lot of you guys like this? Like it’s the second chapter and I’ve already got 4 people for the tag list? That honestly blows my mind a bit because I don’t think I’m that good with Stiles but like y’all are telling me otherwise lol.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Accidental Coincidences

Song rec: Breathe by Pluto

Word count: 1,800 words

Warnings: Swearing (because duh), slight accidental injury.

Stiles drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel impatiently as he waited for the light to change. He sighed and stared up at the traffic light as if he could will it to change faster.

“Oh come on. This is the longest light in the history of the world.” He grumbled to himself. 

A shrill ringing made him jump in his seat and he fumbled around in his pocket for his phone.

“Hey, Lydia what-”

“Do you have Mrs. Floppsy?” She demanded, cutting off his greeting.

“I thought Ronnie had her.” He frowned.

“She says the last time she knew she had her was before you took her to ballet.” She said in a hurry.

“Shit. Right, I’m almost home, I’ll look when I get there.” He muttered.

“No she had her in the car. She remembers that. So it’s either in your car or at the studio.” Lydia reasoned.

“Dammit, it better be in the car. It’s eight thirty, Lydia. I doubt the ballet studio is going to still be open.” He muttered, turning in his seat to glance at the backseat. A horn honked at him and he looked back around. “Of course the light turns green now.” He huffed before settling in his seat and stepping on the gas.

He turned at the next street and pulled into the gas station parking lot so he could get out and look around in his car.

“Okay.... I’m not seeing it.” He frowned as he shoved his hand under the seats to try and feel for it. He heard Lydia sigh on the other end.

“Okay, I’ll tell Ronnie.” Her tone was equal parts defeated and resigned.

“Hey, hold on, I still need to look at the studio.” He pointed out.

“Stiles you said yourself that it’s probably already closed for the night.” She pointed out.

“Maybe the owner forgot to lock up.” He muttered as he got back into the driver’s seat.

“Stiles, please don’t break into a building just for a stuffed rabbit. You’re a deputy, you’d have to arrest yourself.” Lydia sighed.

“Hey, I’m not letting Ronnie sleep without her. Mrs. Floppsy is her favorite. She wouldn’t even be able to sleep.” He insisted. “I’ll call you back when I’ve got her.” He promised before hanging up so he could focus on driving.

He hopped out of his car and chanted a quiet “please, please, please.” under his breath as he rushed up to the doors of 5, 6, 7, 8 Dance. He gave it an experimental tug and was surprised to find it actually unlocked.

“There is a god.” He muttered quietly to himself as he stepped inside. The front room was dark, the only light to spill into it came from the viewing window that looked into the dance studio.

He didn’t see Evie anywhere so he hurriedly started looking around, hoping not to get caught.

After looking in every possible nook and cranny he resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to look for Evie first so he could ask her if she’d seen the stuffed animal. He got to his feet and turned to head in the studio when he remembered that street shoes weren’t allowed on those floors.

He bent down and took his shoes off, planning to carry them as he walked along in his socks but when he straightened back up he saw Evie in the studio, stretching out her arms and torso like she’d shown the little kids how to do earlier that day.

He stood in front of the viewing window, seemingly stuck to the spot as he watched her slowly slide down into a perfect front split. Her arms reached out to her pointed toes and she grabbed a hold of the middle of her foot as her head bent down to touch her knee.

“Holy shit...” He whispered quietly, watching as she eased her torso back up straight only to bend back towards her other leg.

She pulled her body through a few other stretches before getting back to her feet and stretching them out in her pointe shoes. She walked over to a stereo she had set up in the corner and played music from her phone over the speakers before walking over and getting into position in the middle of the room. She rolled her shoulders and neck to loosen them and kept her head down until the music started up.

 The track started slow, and Evie’s movements reflected that, her limbs spreading out slow and liquid-like, almost like she was trying to expand into the space around her.

When the singer’s voice went from crooning to shrill, all the fluidity of her steps and gestures hardened and sharpened like ice. She didn’t flow like water anymore, she cut through each step instead.

Then the music calmed again and she melted to soft airy lines again. Her spins were leisurely, and she kept her arms lax.

The tempo picked up once more and her next pirouette was sharp and precise, her leg kicking up and out parallel to her torso as her arms swooped up over her head.

She brought her leg down and her ankle rolled on the unsteady surface of the squishy stuffed bunny she hadn’t seen. She fell with a gasp of pain and grabbed for her foot.

“Evie!” Her head shot up in shock at the voice.

“Stiles? What the hell are you doing here? Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” She asked in rapid succession.

“You remember me? Wait, never mind that, how’s your ankle that looked like a nasty fall.” He knelt down in front of her and took her calf in his hands to pull her leg towards him.

“Stop, stop!” She said quickly, swatting his hands away.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I should have asked first.” He frowned.

“It’s fine, it just hurt.” She muttered, tucking her leg close to her body like an injured animal. “And of course I remember you Stiles, you’re kind of impossible to forget.” She mumbled.

“But you didn’t say anything today...” He frowned.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh hey, you’re the amazing guy I hooked up with seven years ago!’ Can you imagine how well that would have gone over with those uppity mothers?” She snorted as she pressed experimentally against the joints of her ankle.

“Okay, you’ve got a point.” He conceded, trying not to let the ‘amazing’ comment get to his head just yet.

“What are you doing here Stiles?” She asked, wincing when she found the tender spot.

“Um... The rabbit you tripped on is my daughter’s. Sorry.” He muttered, reaching across her to grab it. She leaned back when he got too close. “I’m just-... The stuffed animal.” He pointed to it and she turned her head.

“Oh.” She reached back and grabbed it, offering it out to him.

“Thanks.” He said as he took it.

“So why aren’t you wearing shoes?” She asked.

“Well, you said no street shoes in the studio.” He shrugged.

“I just said that so those suburban moms wouldn’t bring their heels onto the floor. It scratches the finish and I can only afford to have it redone at the end of every year.” She shrugged. “Tennis shoes are fine.”

“Oh. Okay then.” He nodded. “How’s your ankle?” He asked.

“Sprained.” She sighed as she stuck her leg out and tried to twist her ankle each way. When it rolled inward she cringed and stopped. “Dammit, that’s gonna suck. At least it’s my left foot, I can still drive home.” She muttered to herself.

“But can you walk to your car or into your house?” Stiles asked in concern.

“If I can’t do it alone I’m sure Andy will help. He’s sweet like that.” She smiled affectionately at the mention of the name and Stiles’ heart sunk.

“Is Andy a good guy?” He asked.

“He better be, otherwise I’m not doing my job right.” She snorted.

“What?” He was officially confused and she realized it only when she saw the look on his face.

“Oh! Andy’s my son.” She smiled. “He’s why I’m here so late. I get him this weekend but I can’t pick him up after school on Fridays because I’m here. So his dad picks him up and watches him until seven and then drops him off here.” She shrugged.

“Evie...” Stiles frowned.

“Hmm?”

“It’s almost nine.” He pointed to the clock.

“I know.” She sighed. “Mike isn’t that great at sticking to the schedule. He usually rolls in around nine.” She muttered.

“That’s not cool. He’s got a time and he should stick with it.” Stiles’ frown deepened but Evie simply shrugged.

“I don’t exactly blame him for wanting more time with his kid though. As long as he actually takes care of him I don’t mind if they come in a little late.” She reasoned.

“Wow, you’ve got to be the most chilled divorcee I’ve ever met.” He snorted.

“I’m not divorced.” She corrected.

“Separated?”

“No.” She frowned when he did. “I never got married.” She shrugged.

“Then what’s with the wedding band?” He pointed at her left hand where a thin silver band wrapped around her third finger.

“Oh! Ahaha.... That’s just there to ward off the desperate single dads. It’s really annoying to be hit on when you’re trying to teach their bratty four year old how to do a proper turn out.” She complained.

“Oh. That sucks, I’m sorry.” He frowned.

“It is what it is.” She shrugged. “So.... Did you need the rabbit tonight, cause I’m open tomorrow too, ya know?” She pointed out.

“Um, yeah, Ronnie can’t sleep without her.” He said.

“And when is Ronnie’s bed time?” She asked.

“Nine.” He cringed.

“You should go get the rabbit to her.” She smiled.

“But I don’t want to leave you.” He frowned and at her look rushed to clarify. “You’re injured, and the door’s unlocked, and you’re defenseless!”

“I’m not defenseless I promise. I’ve got two good arms, and one good leg left. Plus, if my life depended on it I’m sure that I could put aside the pain of a sprained ankle so I could run like hell.” She promised. He gave her a skeptical look and she sighed before shifting so she could stand.

“Wait don’t-” He stopped as she hopped easily on one foot until she got to the barre at the back of the room.

“I’ve had worse. I’ll manage. Your daughter needs her bunny, so you need to go.” She insisted.

“Fine. Call nine one one if you have any problems.” He ordered. She mock saluted him.

“Yes sir.” She teased. “See you next Friday.” She waved as he walked out to the main room. “And don’t forget your shoes!” She called after him.

Tagged: @amethystmerm4id, @were-cheetah-stiles, @susybird, @parislight, @iknowisoundcrazy

Let me know (send and ask or a message) if you’d like to be tagged ♥

[peentuba9-blog]

My Current Workout Routine

I may not be buff but I am trying to get there! See what I'm doing now that I am back on the workout train... 

Outdoor Voices: High Rise Warmup Leggings / Tank Top / Tech Sweat Crop Bra / Nike: Juvenate Sneakers 

I will admit that after I finished BBG 1.0 I was burned out. It probably didn't help that summer was officially here, our travel schedule picked up and my accountability partner (Andrew) started playing baseball instead of working out. So I stopped working out. I got out of shape and was bummed about and tried to get into BBG 2.0 and got 4 weeks in before quitting.

Don't get me wrong. I loved BBG and I still very much recommend it. I just got tired of doing the same thing every time and it was really starting to hurt my knees and joints. Then my motivation stopped all together until a press trip to Nantucket. 

I was there with Popsugar and over the weekend we had a Barre3 instructor come for a morning class. I had never done any kind of Barre before so was pretty excited to try. But boy I had NEVER been as sore as I was after that. It lasted I swear for a week. I told all my friends about it and how we'd have to try it together so they could understand. Thats when a friend recommended me to ClassPass.

For those who don't know, ClassPass is an app (they have it for cities all over the US) where you pay a monthly fee (you pick your price plan) and get a certain number of credits. Those credits allow you to book classes all over the city each month.

They have SO many classes, times, locations depending on what you want to do and what works best. You can book up to a week in advance and just show up! I've been loving it so much that I didn't renew my gym membership!

I think the thing I like about it the most is that you can change it up. You can take 10 different kinds of barre classes or different boxing classes if you want to do something new. There are so many kinds of classes and spa items on the app the possibilities are endless. 

And with all that jimmer jammer, lets talk about what I've been doing! I've been trying to do 3 things a week -- usually Monday/Tuesday Exhale/Barre3 and Thursday/Friday 305 but will mix in things like a trampoline class or other barre classes. 

Barre3 -- This is probably my favorite class. I like that it pushes me physically and really gets my heart rate up and the sweat pumping. In class I'm always pushing myself to the point where I feel like I have nothing left and my legs shake in the craziest way. But thats a good thing! It's a good sign. I think I like the most that its not hard on your joints. I never feel like I'm hurting myself or doing something that doesn't feel right for my body. It's the perfect workout and every class is something new. I highly highly suggest trying it out. Dino is my favorite instructor (he's the owner of the West Village location) but I haven't had a bad instructor yet!

Exhale Spa (Barre class) -- This has become a go-to because it's so close to work -- just a few blocks down! So it's really easy to pop out at 6 and be in time and ready for a 6:30 class. The locations for Exhale around the city have all been so so nice and the amenities are truly amazing, which I think is half of the appeal. I dread going to the barre because you know it's going to be tough but the class does push you and make you work. I get a heat in my thighs like I have never experienced before! The only thing I don't love about the classes is they start to get repetitive after too many times. As you can tell, I like when we change things up!

305 -- This was recommended to me by a friend and sadly is not on ClassPass but I still really am loving it (only two classes in!) 305 is a Miami dance class where you're jumping around and dancing in what feels like an underground club for 50 minutes. I like it because it doesn't feel like a workout but it is total cardio for the duration of the class. I want to keep going because the more you go the more you learn the dance moves and do better in class (I don't like not knowing what I'm doing lol). And I like it because it's FUN. Really fun. They also offer a 2-for-1 package for new people!

I'm definitely working out in preparation for the wedding but also to feel better about myself. I get super exhausted by end of week but I can already start to see great changes in my energy and body. I'm back to eating red meat and pork but I am still avoiding added sugars (with the exception of 1 item each week). I also ride my bike to and from work everyday... as long as it's not raining.

My plan is to continue with Barre3, ClassPass and 305 but also starting to get back into swimming in the winter. I know I really need to mix HIT into my routine and since I h-a-t-e running I feel like this can help. Later next year I'll probably pick up BBG again as the results were really great and something that I will want to have again!

I think the hardest thing about all of this is finding cute clothes to work out in and also finding time to add yet another thing to my plate. It is a lot! And you can see that working out has affected the blog -- which I am hoping to change. I just get so tired after I come home. But we are starting on the path to being better!

Also if you're interested in signing up for ClassPass -- you can use my $40 off your first month code! I don't work with them or get anything other than $40 off my next month as well. If you live in New York, that means it's just $5 for your first month! It's super easy to cancel too if you find it's just not for you.

Source: http://www.coveringbases.com/2018/09/my-current-workout-routine.html