#I panic over a lot of stuff too like what training id need and such

[yanderemommabean]

https://www.healthy.arkansas.gov/programs-services/topics/asbp-licensee-information#PharmacyFormsandInstructions

The tech license form should be on this page.^ It's a PDF that you fill out and send to Little Rock (instructions are on the form) with a specific amount of money and they email you instructions from there. The license lasts two years.

The pharmacists at my job have been trying to convince me to be a tech for a while lol.

Oh thank you so much! Would I need prior training or anything? Again I have no idea what to even do or try, and the only thing I know about pharmacy stuff is what i pick up from the window

It shouldnt be too hard i suppose, but again thank you so much! im going to look into this and show my family, see if we can gather what money we need even if we have to wait a bit

This was very kind of you!

-Mommabean

[lynxtopia]

Might as well, now I've been prompted (thank you so much graahhhh !!!).

Not very much art stuff because I need to dig it up from somewhere, but have some screenshots of little doodles I have.

Anyway, I have an OC site which is designated as 2164, a number I plucked out of the air at random about 2-3 years ago. Some of the characters are more fleshed out (whether it be through age of existence or merely my preference/plot armour lol) than others, but they have an equal amount of story between the lot.

CI are also heavily involved and their current Engineer (who I'll get to later (next post, sorry.) ) is called... Charles Charles... ?

The one in the ID back up there is Vera, a traded employee, who was brought over in exchange for a piece of 2164's security force, because the other site was struggling, immensely. She's got a pretty hostile energy about her and has a tendency to lash out at people she's either not close to or outrank (maybe an abuse of her powers) and is overall paranoid about the site's... well, interesting state. The CI live in their sewers, they're in the middle of nowhere and nearly all the employees live on site in constant danger of attack. Oh and there's the so-called emergency nuke in the underground.

Oh, she's also formerly Internal Security.

She is transferred during a time of panic and anxiety, a new SCP had been assigned to the site and it was so poorly researched they had to bring on another few researchers from universities globally to try and fix the problem, which is where we bump into our next character: (Nearly) Dr. Heartwood.

A doctor... in training. She was supposed to be helping the MDs but was transferred to the Scientist Unit after the Site Personnel realised she knew a bit too much. She's referred to as Doctor, even though she hasn't earned her doctorate yet, but, there's time for that, somehow. She's a bit all over the place, really. She typically sticks to less dangerous tests although was eventually forced by old Prof. Bianchi to do some stuff on the new arrival, just to see what would happen.

So this SCP itself is like a 10x10 metre metal box with two large blue double doors like the entrance to a gym hall or a town hall etc. a bit like fire escape doors. Catch is, each door takes you to a new place and it takes hours, possibly even days to return to the outside. It was discovered in the woods and unluckily for them, one member of the public knows about it and they haven't been able to track her down.

Anywho, Heartwood is slightly terrified of half of the D-Class on site, especially "Foxface" or D-1262, who literally cannot remove the fox mask from her face. Bianchi, Powers and Long (some other researcher guys) have talked about it and were thinking of classifying Foxface as an anomaly, but eventually decided against because they came to the conclusion it was just superglue. (But who knows.)

The mask is also one of many reasons she is not currently dead. She was sent to be tested on SCP-096 but came back unscathed due to her inability to actually view him.

It's not clear why she was sent to the foundation, although records suggest she was gained via vaguely unethical methods.

(There's also two other main CDs, Volkova and O'Ryan, but I have no art so they can wait lol.)

Moving onto the MTF, we have M. Lovell, a slightly sheltered guy who just wants to at least try. Apparently he thought it was the military and ended up getting drafted for Epsillon-11.

He's the middle guy.

Typically, as the newbie, he's sent in head first into everything the site deals with, whether it be the CI or a breached SCP or even just some random case in the Medical Sector.

He's also nearly cost himself his life numerous times before, such as by forgetting to equip his scramblers one time, or going into 049's enclosure and getting whacked with a stick.

There's also this fellow, a bit of an idiot and let's the L-3 Keycard power get to his head a bit more frequently than anyone would like. Most of his days off are spent either getting drunk or... actually I don't think he has hobbies.

There's also Chevalier, who was former Security at the site (she "left due to unforseen circumstances") and for some reason owned a piece of uniform with the word "SWAG" on the back. Nobody has any idea where that thing came from nor are they going to try and find out.

At the end of this, with a horribly doodled thing, we have our unethical, unnamed, Medical Department staff member. She's the one doing a tiktok dance whilst an innocent D-Class is dying of 409 in the background. Also, surprisingly, the best at most things in the department (self-proclaimed.).

And I think that's all for now, until I dig up some old character art, this is all I have to infodump (with images) for now.

Thank you!

Oh the urge to infodump about SCP OCs is strong.

I'll do it later though.

[phoenixyfriend]

The Naruto/Frozen Crossover

So I was planning on just doing an image ID thing for this post, but apparently the formatting on desktop is such a mess that it’s easier to just make a new post that’s text only. I can also like. Bulletpoint it so that it can be a little neater. All ideas were made with @firebirdeternal​‘s help, because they are the most efficient enabler I have.

Also I added some bits at the end.

Under a cut, because it’s Long As Heck.

I originally had two options: either Mid-teens Elsa and Anna being transported to ninja land sometime pre-canon and running into Haku and Zabuza... or just like. Born as a Daimyou's daughters.

Spoiler alert, we’ve got nukenin and I’m a sucker for an intrusive crossover, so transported to ninja land it is.

Suggestion from Birdie:

Mechanism for crossover: Elsa ices over a Wishing Well by accident after having Wished for someone else who understood her, Anna and her fall in and get Ice Mirror Portaled to Ninjaland, falling out of an iced over pond near a shrine that Haku recently prayed at for similar lonely child reasons?

Which I like! They don’t end up there soon enough to run into Haku, because I want a dramatic chase first, but I like it.

Obviously, Anna is forced to learn about Elsa's powers because it's the only thing keeping them safe

Or at least alive

(Elsa will do ANYTHING to keep Anna safe, and if that means she has to get her hands dirty...)

...neither of them knows Japanese, so, you know. There’s that.

I'm thinking that they end up in/near Kiri at first

And they aren't FAST ENOUGH to get away so Elsa panic-enchants a giant reindeer made of snow to run away across the suddenly-frozen ocean.

She and Anna have to ride and Elsa is probably crying the whole time.

Oh shit this is like. RIGHT after their parents die, I forgot. So that’s a thing! They are in mourning and all that fun stuff.

Point is, they use the powers for a Self Defense thing and BBY Haku is just !!! "Master can we rescue them for Ice Cousin reasons?" Zabuza: Yes, and only for those practical reasons and not because I collect endangered children like people collect pokemon cards.

I imagine that maybe they track rumors of a Yuki-onna down, or the Giant Snow Reindeer rides by and Haku’s just like Wat

The girls just tag along with Zabuza because. Like.

Do they like him? No. Do they trust him? No. Do they enjoy the fact that he considers them pathetic civilians? No.

However, Haku is Baby.

Zabuza is REALLY annoyed at them being Useless Civilian Royals “but Haku likes them so I guess they can stay.”

Age at meeting, three years pre-canon:

Zabuza - 23

Elsa - 18

Anna - 15

Haku - 12

Elsa is 90% anxiety/depression master combo BUT if Zabzua protects her then she's WILDLY dangerous so like. Whatever

Elsa's bingo book nickname options, uninspired:

Winter Witch

Winter Queen

Ice Queen

Snow Queen

Something about a Yuki-Onna maybe

She's Very Stately and kinda breakable but Winter is her Bitch

I mean like, the fact that, if protected, she can shut down the agriculture of a fucking country? That's an S-rank even if she's not that useful in a fight.

She's like. Jinchuuriki-level destruction. Generally speaking she wouldn’t. But she could.

Elsa: What the fuck is a chakra? Elsa: my snow monsters are self-sustaining. Elsa: I'm gonna build us a house.

Zabuza has NO idea how her powers work and it is INCREDIBLY frustrating but “there’s no chakra cost to keep these things going and we have shelters on demand” is too convenient to question after a while.

Haku: Delicate, deadly, incredibly fast ninja work. Elsa: I can't dodge a kunai but watch me wreck your entire country's ecosystem in under a day.

Elsa is a siege weapon.

Meanwhile, Anna is really, really into the physicality of ninja practice.

She's clumsy and she's not very good at ninja stuff, but she sure is determined!

Anna also gets on Zabuza's nerves because she keeps insisting that Haku get to be a kid.

Anna: Let's make flower crowns! Zabuza: No, he needs to train, not- Anna: FLOWER CROWNS

Consider: Haku saying Elsa-nee-sama and Anna-hime.

Or just calling Elsa “onee-sama.”

Anna is also younger than Elsa and way more Fun so she probably gets adjusted to Anna-chan or Nee-chan.

If Zabuza calls Elsa “Hime-chan” or “Elsa-hime” or, Sage forbid, “Elsa-sama/dono” then he’s VERY MUCH making fun of her and he’s probably getting his soup frozen that night.

At one point, Elsa... tries to like. Convince herself to have a crush on Zabuza or Kakashi or something until Zabuza just puts a hand on her shoulder and asks "do you even like men?" "...that's an OPTION?"

Zabuza urging her to try and ask out a Cute Kunoichi and Elsa's like.... I can't decide if she's bright red and a useless lesbian or uncomfortable and ace.

I am SO invested in the siege weapon thing.

SHE IS THE SQUISHIEST WIZARD.

It's not her fault that every single other combatant on the continent is Massively Dangerous in melee! She took a very traditional back-line build!

Enemy: Doesn't it GRATE to protect someone so pathetic, Zabuza? Zabuza: She literally froze an entire castle of enemies to death because they harmed her sister, so. No.

Most Ninjas: Sharp Knife. S-Rank Mega Ninjas: Gun. Elsa: High Yield Explosive Rocket Launcher. Literally loses fights to the Knife People, because she can't bring her power to bear on that scale. But if you can give her Time and Prep? No contest.

Long distance AoE

Like  you know how Nagato is literally dying of starvation due to illness and can't walk, but he's also capable of leveling powerful villages more or less on his own?

Elsa is the same Vibe.

It’s like sealing a bijuu in a civilian.

She's honestly both more and less powerful? Like it'd be hard for her to kill everyone in Konoha in the snap of a finger? But also, she could starve out the Country of Fire in a summer.

She WOULDN'T, but she could.

I always read Elsa as gay or ace but my brain keeps trying to ship her with dude ninjas and I have to yank it back on a child leash.

People insinuate that Zabuza is interested in Elsa and he's just "What? Ew she's like five."

"I'm eighteen."

"Five."

BUT

Elsa! Might mistake trust and companionship for a crush!

I can see THAT happening despite gay/ace.

Also like. I don’t think Zabuza is straight.

So mlm/wlw solidarity?

And Haku is probs genderqueer.

So Anna is THE TOKEN STRAIGHT.

Anna is like, the Straight Friend who will go to the mat for her queer friends. Like vicious. In-your-face barking like a mean dog at people who were being bigots.

You know how Elsa in the second movie uses her powers to make toys for kids out of ice?

Okay, so her practicing by making things with Haku.

But yeah, Elsa can't really do "throws ice senbon," but she can do Delicate Geometry Things since she apparently, canonically studies math for fun and loves fractals.

Haku: I can trap you in a prison of ice mirrors, and you are at my mercy. Elsa: LOOK AT THIS CASTLE I MADE???

Haku wants to do Pretty Things like Elsa

OH.

Elsa makes... snow bunnies..

For the ninja distraction reasons but also because it's a Soft Thing that makes her feel better about, uh, everything. And Haku likes bunnies.

Zabuza still takes The Dirty Missions but Elsa gets upset when he does something that hurts innocents and Nobody wants Elsa upset. Even Zabuza doesn't want Elsa upset.

When Elsa gets upset, overnight accommodations are suddenly Very Uncomfortable for everyone except her and Haku.

And then Anna gets upset, which makes Elsa even MORE upset.

And then things just keep getting colder.

Zabuza doesn't want Elsa upset for many reasons, not limited to: "Is actually capable of killing me from outside of Sword Range if she's mad enough, even if it’s not that easy" and "the Small Children would be unbearably sad if she died and honestly so might I."

She's more of a friend than a ward and he's not entirely sure he's okay with that.

Zabuza: "Ew, friendship."

He has absolutely no idea how to have a social interaction with people he isn't Bullying, Raising, or Threatening to Kill.

Elsa and Anna have no trouble convincing people they're related, at least. Different coloration with almost identical bone structure.

A tendency to burst into song when they feel emotions.

Identical weird accent that nobody can place.

FOOD

The girls are royalty, they don't know how to COOK.

But they also want food from HOME.

It's a lot of trial and error.

More error than not, since they have both no knowledge and also a language barrier to overcome. It probably takes YEARS before they can describe things like Unfamiliar Flavors well enough for people to say "OH that sounds like spearmint."

When they run into something they know that’s familiar, it’s life-changing.

Chocolate is more common in the elemental nations than in Arandelle and Anna may or may not cry about it.

Anna is loudly bossy, even at Zabuza.

Zabuza is gruffly commanding, to everyone.

Elsa doesn't actually like being in charge, but when she talks, people LISTEN.

(Haku is just happy to be here.)

Elsa radiates two things: Anxiety, and Natural Command, and she basically just fluctuates between those.

"I don't want to be in charge but also I'm vetoing this."

So, obviously, the main reasons that Zabuza keeps the girls around is that Elsa is a living siege weapon and he thinks she could be convinced to help him run a revolution in Kiri, and also that the Ice Queen schtick is like. Really good for Haku and Zabuza can’t really say no to the kid.

HOWEVER, Anna is clumsy and messy and all that, so Zabuza starts training her in Ninja stuff. Elsa joins in on the “I need to know how to Run Fast to get away from fights I don’t want to have in the first place,” but Anna’s the one that’s like “TEACH ME HOW TO SWORD.”

It’s honestly not that hard to teach her, she’s just really, really, REALLY enthusiastic.

Once or twice someone asks why she’s so bad at this yet running around with an A-rank nukenin and Zabuza’s just like “I’ve only had her for a year and a half, shut up!” because it’s not that he’s a bad teacher, it’s that she was a very pampered civilian until like a week before he met her.

He should get a MEDAL for even getting her to low Chuunin.

Zabuza: I'm taking a job from Gato Elsa, who has Training in economics and politics and bureaucracy: I have a better idea.

This is actually not entirely what I’d do but I wanted to make the joke first ANYWAY here’s an actual plot or something.

Oh, also by this point everyone is Canon Ages so Elsa’s 21 and Anna’s 18 and Zabuza’s 26 and Haku’s 15.

Elsa is getting paid to keep the water from interfering with construction, by way of....

ICE COFFERDAM

Elsa with Haku as her Guard while Zabuza is off running his own mission? Which Anna begged to go on because Cool.

Elsa also kind of keeps her involvement on the ice front semi-secret by claiming she’s there as an engineering consultant.

LISTEN canon made her like geometry, I can ENTIRELY believe she’d be excited about the bridge-building.

Gato has hired someone else on the danger level of Zabuza, who is Threatening to Team 7 + Haku? But then when things look bleak Anna and Zabuza arrive and then Scary Sword Man is on our side and oh dear that's a lot of blood.

Which, you know, fun!

Birdie suggested Raiga which I’m not feeling but I do feel the need to bring up as an option.

It’s also not Kisame BUT

Kisame: [giant lake dome filled with sharks]

Elsa: uhhhhhhhhhhh...

Giant lake dome: [is now a giant ice dome]

Anyway

Gato: I'm hiring an army. Elsa: [giant ice wall around his compound] Gato: ... these guys can walk up walls! Elsa: [adds snowman guards] Elsa: ... Elsa: [adds a ceiling]

Just puts Gato's entire mob in a fucking snow globe.

Zabuza shows up twenty minutes late with (Throwing) Star(buck)s just like "Oh, they dead? No? Want 'em to be? Okay cool I'm gonna go pick up Haku, I'll be back in like an hour."

Anna would... LOVE Naruto

ENERGETIC FRIENDLY GOOFBALL

"I found us a baby brother!" "No, we already have Haku." "BUT LOOK AT HIM."

Anna is only a year or two older than Itachi.

OH RIGHT

I wanted to make a joke about how Naruto also vibes with her because he's less judgmental that she can't really... talk properly.

Sasuke is Judgy and Kakashi is Paranoid and Sakura is Uncomfortable.

Meanwhile Naruto is just like "And I Shall Scream."

Anna, who learned Japanese from Zabuza (rude) and Haku (uber polite): WELL FUCK YOU, GOOD SIR Naruto: YEAH WELL FUCK YOU TOO, LADY Elsa, overly formal: I am... so very sorry.

Anyway, generic missing nin fights and all that.

Elsa gets injured in the process and after a variety of arguments, Naruto manages to convince them to take her to Konoha for medical attention.

Elsa is... usually the one getting injured.

Zabuza and Haku are FAST and Anna is at least learning (even if she’s only been doing it for three years), but Elsa is The Squishy Wizard.

If someone throws a kunai... she can’t... really dodge...

So yeah, gut wound.

Normally they find a nukenin medic to patch them up but Konoha is reasonably close and has some of the more skilled medics on the continent and they DID technically help the Konoha nin so like. Gah.

That’s Zabuza’s final thought. Gah.

Just “Fuck it, let’s save the ice queen.”

Elsa ends up in a half-literal-ice stasis state on the way there and it’s happened before (it is not the first time she’s been stabbed), but it’s always terrifying.

Especially to the Konoha genin who are just like WHAT THE HECK IS THAT.

So they get to Konoha, there’s a whole bunch of stuff about extradition treaties and “you are bringing a literal WMD of a woman into our town” and “we can’t just let MOMOCHI ZABUZA in.”

Anyway, it ends up being that Zabuza has to wait outside the village while Elsa is treated inside, and one of the Teenagers goes in. Obviously, it’s Anna, because Zabuza is INCREDIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE with letting Haku enter a village that’s known for having lots of bloodlines, and anyway, Anna’s the sister.

Bunch of stuff, she’s healing, etc, and then one day Anna comes in and is told “your sister had a bad reaction to the anesthetic, we couldn’t save her, I’m sorry, she’s gone.”

She flips out, gets shown the corpse, flips out MORE, gets escorted out to the village walls where Zabuza and Haku are waiting.

Horrified reactions

Zabuza doesn’t want to admit that it’s EMOTIONS because this is his FRIEND, he is clearly just upset about losing the living siege weapon.

Haku is just super confused and goes “But she’s not dead.”

“What.”

“She’s not dead, I can feel her, I can always feel her, it’s like sensing but just her, because we’re both ice. She’s alive, somewhere over... there?”

And points right in the direction of the Hokage Mountain, which for the purposes of this fic and also Drama is where ROOT headquarters is.

YEP we absolutely have that plot point.

Is Danzo overused as a plot device? Probably. Am I going to diabolus ex machina him anyway? Ye.

They kick up enough of a fuss that the Hokage gets called down.

He wouldn’t, normally, he’d leave it to a couple of skilled jounin and call it a day, except Naruto got involved so like. You can’t. Ignore that.

There’s lots of shouting.

Just like. A lot.

And then part of the mountain explodes!

AS ONE DOES

Elsa comes flying backwards out of the hole, catches herself on a spontaneous ice slide, gets to her feet.

Girl is swaying like MAD.

There are absolutely ANBU (both fake and real) coming after her.

At least one of them gets speared through by an ice spike.

Anna runs up to her, tries to hug her, gets batted away.

Elsa’s staring at her in sheer TERROR and starts muttering something about how Anna died years ago, this isn’t real, etc.

Nobody except Anna understands most of it, but Haku picks up enough to translate when Anna’s freaking out.

Elsa starts doing her Ice Castle thing in the middle of Konoha as a coping mechanism, mostly so she can get Up and Away and Shielded By Ice.

This is not a good look.

Especially because she’s singing, which Zabuza always thinks is a bad omen because it means shit is getting real and one or both of the girls are about to get a powerup or be beaten even harder than otherwise. When they start singing, things get More Dramatic And Extreme).

(Zabuza does not like Disney Musical Rules)

Danzo shows up.

There’s a bunch of arguing.

All the medics insist that nothing she was given at the hospital should have caused amnesia, psychosis, hallucinations, delusions, etc.

It’s. Not hard for Hiruzen to guess what happened.

Namely that Danzo, upon finding out that chakra dampeners didn’t do shit since none of Elsa’s powers come from chakra, decided to keep her drugged up and start using genjutsu to make her more malleable.

Because like. An injured WMD just showed up in your village. What are you supposed to do, not try to kidnap her and turn her to your side? Like, come on. What was he supposed to do?

Not that, Danzo. Literally Not That.

IDK how it gets resolved, probably Anna getting to her with the power of love, because Elsa is ultimately Super Disney.

I also don’t really know where to go from there other than “Maybe Jiraiya can get you home, but also I’m pretty sure Zabuza wants you all to get the hell out of here and take over Kiri” but who knows.

Also

IMAGINE ELSA MEETING GAI.

Imagine Ino getting a puppy crush on Elsa.

IDK that’s it for now.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

The Hard Things

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC.

I cried once writing this. 7.4k words. Angst. Just angst and sarcasm.

@notinthesameguey is personally responsible for this. So blame her.

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Masterlist (on semi hiatus)

___________________________________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

���No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her but it gives no response.

[bluegarners]

“Damian takes a pic with a mall santa, chaos ensues”~ anon

For 12 Days of Batfam prompts

“I do not see why traveling here was necessary.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Dami! We’re going gift shopping!”

“Clearly. However, actually going to this cesspool of idiots is ridiculous. The internet exists for a reason, Richard. It is about time you learned how to use it.”

“That takes all the fun out of it though,” Dick pouts, landing a hand in Damian’s perfectly combed hair. “It’s practically like a tradition at this point. Besides, it’s a lot more fun to actually look at what you’re buying and not just try and guess what it’s like through a screen. What if it wasn’t like you wanted? What then?”

“Returns exist as well,” Damian grumbles, swatting at the hand still latched firmly to his scalp. “If the purchase is void, then a simple return is all that is necessary to begin again.”

“For once,” Tim sighs, cringing a bit at the obnoxious mall-music and over enthusiastic sales people trying to approach him, “I agree with the brat. This is uncomfortable and just… over the top. I know what I’m looking for, and reviews on products help determine if the thing is actually good. There isn’t any reason to be here, Dick.”

“On the contrary, my beloved brothers,” Dick grins, mouth stretching impossibly wide as his eyes land on something in the distance, “There is actually a fantastic reason for us to be here.”

As if deciding on something, Dick nods to himself before quickly turning around and clapping his hands together. “Okay, here’s the plan. We’re already here and it would be a waste to drive back after it took us an hour to get here, so we are staying.”

Cue the simultaneous groans.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Dick reprimands. “Let me finish. You guys can do anything you want. It’s the freakin mall, so it’s got other stuff than just stores. I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s legal. You could even just hang out in the food court, as long as you’re doing something. I need to do a couple things, but I will call you when I’m done and we’ll rendezvous somewhere.”

“You are leaving me here?” Damian asks, surprised. “With Drake of all people?”

Dick leans down to ruffle his hair again, but Damian moves away, a dark scowl edging its way onto his brow. “No, I refuse to be left alone with this imbecile.”

“As if I’d want to babysit you in the first place,” Tim mutters, glaring at the youngest.

Dick smiles pleasantly, a contrast to the way he squeezes both of their shoulders tightly, pulling them closer to him. 

“We’re not going to have any problems, right boys?” he asks sweetly, eyes crinkling. “Because it would be a shame if I had to make use of that lovely return policy on all the gifts I had planned this year.”

“Do you take me for a child-”

“Seeing as this is the last week I have left in Gotham, it would be quite the disappointment if I didn’t get to train surf with either of you before I leave again too.”

Damian shuts his mouth quickly, the idea of banning dual patrol before the eldest’s departure more threatening than lost gifts. 

“I don’t like train surfing,” Tim says smugly, crossing his arms in victory, “and I don’t like playing babysitter.”

Dick slowly tilts his head towards him, and the strain in his smile is enough to make Tim wither a bit. 

“All I’m asking for is maybe an hour of alone time while I get some stuff done. You don’t have to do anything together, you don’t have to go shopping if you’re so adamant on doing it online, and you don’t have to eat. Just please stick together. That’s all. Please, Tim.”

His resolve lasts all of four seconds before it crumples, and Tim looks to the side as he groans out a forlorn, “Fine.”

“Great!” Dick exclaims, an easy smile blooming back onto his face. “I’ll see you guys in an hour.”

And just like that, Dick disappears into the crowd, leaving behind two very disgruntled boys in his steed.

They stand there, refusing to acknowledge one another’s presence, before Tim sighs again and thinks, Well, might as well be a big brother. Holiday spirit and all that jazz.

“Okay,” he starts, half-way turning to face the youngest again, “Is there anything you want to do?”

Damian doesn’t say a word.

“Any stores?”

Silence.

“They, uh, have a movie theater in here. Any movies?”

Damian still refuses to open his mouth.

Well, fuck me, I guess, Tim bemoans, having the inability to think of anything worse to do than spend his Saturday afternoon looking after the gremlin in his charge.

Suddenly, Damian turns on his heel and begins walking away. Tim frowns, chancing a quick glance behind him to see if Dick was secretly watching them and if he could make a break for it, but decides against it at the last second. A happy Dick Grayson was infinitely easier to deal with rather than a disappointed one.

Everyone knew disappointment was worse than anger. 

He follows Damian quietly, keeping his distance and sidestepping the insane amount of people and sellers, all looking to get something. Tim doesn’t hate people, per-say. He finds them fascinating at times, but when he’s not looking to be fascinated, he just finds them uncomfortable to be around. Noisy, touchy, and all around obnoxious. There were precious few people Tim could say he liked to be around, and these strangers in the enormous mall were not them.

Damian walked with purpose, easily evading others and taking turns as if he knew where he was going. Perhaps he did, but Tim can’t recall a time where any of them actually frequented the mall often enough to know where things were. At least without looking at a map or asking an employee.

A minute later and Damian vanishes from sight. In a blink, he’s gone from the endless swirl of people and Tim panics slightly. How does someone lose a child so quickly? How is that possible? He was literally right in front of him, Tim had his gaze locked on the green hoodie, but it’s as if the brat was made of air. Poof, gone.

He pauses, turning this way and that in search of the elusive Wayne. It was unfortunate that the brat was shorter than the average 13 year old, if only by half an inch, but now was not the time to goad over heights. Tim is tempted to just text Dick and say he lost Damian, but hearing that in his head, after literally five minutes of being alone, does not sound like a fantastic idea. He can practically predict the lecture that would follow, words of, “Come on, I know you guys don’t get along super well, but he’s your brother,” and “I was gone for all of two seconds- how did he escape so easily?”

Tim groans, a common thing he’s been doing ever since they stepped into the epitome of capitalism, and resigns himself to continuing the search. Oh, he was so going to beat the brat during their next spar. This entire thing was not worth the discounts.

.

.

.

Damian smirks as he watches Drake fiddle around like a fool, searching blindly for him. If Drake had actually been paying attention, he would have seen Damian step into the small candle store to the right, hiding behind an outrageous depiction of Saint Nick practically shoving some holiday scent down his throat. 

As it were, though, Drake was a twit with half the brains of a goldfish, and Damian feels a sense of satisfaction wash over him as the older teen walks away in the opposite direction. 

He was free and alone. Perfect.

Well, not really.

Damian had agreed to go to the mall in the first place on the condition that it would just be he and Richard. It had sounded somewhat enjoyable, Richard hinting at some sort of surprise, but he was greatly displeased at the sight of another figure waiting for them in the car. Of all the people in the world to choose from. Of all the available and useless ignoramuses out there, Richard just had to ask Drake to come along.

Of course, he immediately protested because he had been promised that it would just be the two of them, but Richard insisted and used that horribly childish face with wide eyes and saddened sulk and giving in, at that point, was the only wise decision Damian could make from then on. In no way did he plan on spending this hour with Drake, awkwardly attempting conversation and suggestions that sounded boring enough to sleep to.

So, his plan of action was simple and executed flawlessly. All he had to do for the next 50 minutes was stay out of sight of both Drake and Richard, and the rest of that time was his to do with as he pleased.

He had already chosen gifts to present later on in the week, there was no need to do extra shopping, so all there really was to do was explore. 

Which is exactly what he did for the next forty minutes before he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his back pocket. He pulls it out, squinting at the caller ID of Grayson.

He lets it ring for a few seconds, some part of him thinking the wait as some sort of pay-back for betraying his promise, and answers on the last ring.

“Damian?” Richard says, urgency coloring his voice.

Instantly, Damian is paying more attention. “Yes? What is it?”

“I need you to meet me at the center, it’s important.”

“The center?” Damian mutters, scanning the crowded walkways for a map. “Why? What is happening?”

“I’ll fill you in when you get here, okay? Just get here as fast as possible.”

“Affirmative.”

Richard hangs up first and Damian begins searching for the nearest wall-map. He finds one and tsks when he sees he’s in the far west region of the mall, the center, if he walked like a normal person, taking upwards of about five minutes to reach.

He’d been given no details, nothing except the urgent lilt in Richard’s voice, a dead give away to how nervous he was. Nervous about what though? What could possibly make Nightwing frantic in an area like this? It must be something mildly bad, or at least dangerous for civilians, for Richard to call him. Crowd control possibly.

He hadn’t heard anything other than the usual noise of the populace, so Damian rules out a fire or some maniac shooting. There doesn’t seem to be an urgency in the way the crowd shifts, no clear tell for panic. 

His phone vibrates again and Damian immediately answers.

“Where are you?” Richard asks, that same nervousness pitching his voice.

“I am near a clothing store: Urban Outfitters,” he responds, picking up his pace slightly.

“Hurry,” Richard pleads. “You need to be here in two minutes or less or else I might- just hurry, please. When you reach the center, there will be a large Christmas tree off to the right. I’m over there. Find me when you get here.”

“Wait, Richard-” but Damian can’t get anything else in before the older man hangs up again.

The vagueness of the situation begins to worry Damian as well, doing as asked and trying his best to weave in between people and their annoying need to create a stiff, horizontal line wherever they walked. He curses when a little girl holding an absurdly shaped stuffed animal darts out in front of him, oblivious to the obstruction she’s caused.

She trips and falls, slapping into the smooth tile. Damian is tempted to walk around her, unmoved by her pitiable cries for her clumsiness, but when he glances back and sees no one else, no parent or sibling or literally any other bystander willing to help her, he rolls his eyes and turns back around. He holds out a hand and pulls the little girl to her feet, her tears silenced by the strange act of kindness.

“Where are your parents?” he asks gruffly, anxious as the precious seconds tick by.

“Uhhhh….I don’t know.”

I should’ve kept walking, Damian thinks to himself.

.

.

.

Tim is practically giddy with excitement. Dick stands behind him, arms crossed and peering over the heads of countless other parents and children, in search of Damian.

After having wandered around in a vain search for the brat, Tim had finally given in and texted Dick, apology in tow, when Dick had told him to meet him in the center of the mall. There, Tim had spotted the eldest standing in a long line filled with kids no older than eight and tired parents, disheveled and attempting to keep their children’s hair neat.

As soon as he’d tapped on his shoulder, Dick had reared around, the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he said, “It’s tradition to get a picture with Santa.”

Tim less than fondly recalls his own picture with the infamous mall Santa, the old man smelling of cigarettes and too spicy cologne to mask it. All the bat-kids had taken a photo with the cheap Santa at some point or the other, Tim having been the oldest to do so at fifteen. Dick had taken his when he was ten, and Jason at eleven. 

However, once he registers the actual words that had come out of Dick’s mouth, Tim feels something close to euphoria rise in his chest as he now understands it was the brat’s turn to sit on off-brand Santa’s lap and have his picture taken. Oh, would that be a sight to behold. Chaos to be sure. Most likely some screaming as well. A lot of protest and cursing. Maybe even some tears.

A sight to behold.

“I knew you guys wouldn’t stick together,” Dick explains, “So I figured I’d call you over here earlier. Then, I’ll call Damian once we’re close to the front and act like it’s an emergency so he’ll have no choice but to come quickly.”

Tim was impressed. “You know,” he says, eyeing Dick, “You’re a lot more evil than everyone thinks.”

“The term you’re looking for is evil mastermind, Timmy.”

“Uh huh,” Tim jokes, excitement building in his bones as he notices they’re only two spots away from what is destined to be the greatest moment of his life. 

“Look! I see him!” Dick exclaims, pointing in the far distance.

Indeed, there was Damian in his green hoodie, half-jogging, half-walking as he headed towards the Christmas tree Dick had directed him to.

“We’re next,” Tim says anxiously, glancing at the teenager dressed as an elf, who was probably wondering why the two of them were standing in a line meant for children.

“It’s fine,” Dick reassures, his own thrill building. “He’ll be here.”

And, as if one cue, because malls are where miracles happen, Damian calls out, “Richard!”

Dick waves him over, compulsion in every movement of his arm. “Hurry, Dami!”

The teenager elf is now guiding them into the “Miracle Circle” and Dick yanks at the sleeve of Damian’s hoodie before he can even register what’s happening. Tim has to keep a hand over his mouth in order to stop himself from snickering at the bewildered look on the youngest’s face, eyes blown wide as he takes in the bright lights and tinsel.

“Richard,” he growl-whispers, “What is this?”

“Tradition,” Dick answers, tugging him closer to the overweight man sitting on the massive throne. “And it’s time you partake in it. I let you get away from it last year because I lost track of time, but not this year. This year, Dami, is where you finally experience,” he leans in closer, nearly whispering, “the joys of a mall Santa.”

“No,” Damian says, aghast as Dick pulls him closer and closer to the center. “No, I refuse. Unhand me this instant.”

He is powerless though against Dick’s firm grasp and excellent navigation skills. Everyone is watching. Everyone is staring.

“Hello there, little one,” mall Santa booms, arms out stretching as he reaches for Damian. “Come sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you’d like for Christmas.”

“Richard,” Damian pleads, struggling as he eyes the suspicious fake beard, “If you do this, I will never forgive you.”

“I’m sorry, Dami,” Dick amends solemnly, a lie written all over his face. “I have to. It’s tradition.”

Faster than even Damian can react, Dick is sweeping him off his feet and plopping him onto the lap of a complete stranger.

“What’s your name?” mall Santa asks, Damian recoiling at the rank breath.

“Let me go,” he demands.

“Oh ho ho,” mall Santa chuckles, stomach jostling like a gross bowl of jelly. “We haven’t taken our picture yet!”

Mall Santa points a little off to the right, and it is with horror does Damian spot not only Richard, but Drake, Father, and Pennyworth aiming cameras at him.

Drake waves at him, shit-eating grin plastered shamelessly on his face. Richard is cooing through his phone, oo-ing and awe-ing at the scene. Father looks at least a little bit sympathetic, pity spelled out over his face as he watches his youngest son try to free himself from the mall Santa’s surprisingly strong grip. Pennyworth takes one picture, quickly putting away his phone. 

Damian is sure that the one picture is enough to spell doom for the rest of his life.

“You know,” mall Santa whispers, nearly suffocating Damian in the vice-like hug he’s trapped in, “Most kids smile when they take pictures with Santa.”

“I am not inclined to smile for a pedophile,” Damian snarls back.

“Well,” mall Santa sighs, voice suddenly less cheery, “I guess that means you’re on the naughty list then, you little shit.”

Damian stills in his struggle, eyes widening as he turns to meet the green eyes of the man who holds him.

“Todd?” he hisses, humiliation rising as the man just chuckles, winking.

“Happy holidays, little boy,” Jason cheers, playing up the act. “If you’re good, Santa might-”

The next morning, the top headline from the Gotham Gazette reads, 

Christmas Chaos: Youngest Wayne Punches Santa!

The article gets framed above the tree in their living room, and Damian waits for the day to exact his revenge. Soon. Soon.

[wienerbarnes]

Left for Dead (1/2)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,803

Warnings: mentions to bombs and mission stuff, mentions to past torture

A/N: a lil two parter! I'm def a shorter writer so I split up reader’s first mission as opposed to posting like a 5k one shot (unless y'all dig that better for the future???) I’m gonna queue the second part to post on Friday idk what time but otherwise we all know id forget... so. enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

It was finally time for your first mission. The night before, F.R.I.D.A.Y. prompted you with the fact that there would be a briefing this morning at 8 A.M. You’d figured the superheroes weren’t the type to sleep in.

As much as you’d been enjoying the return of your clothes, you figured it’d be safest to keep the black-on-black outfit for these briefings and anything else you’d be involved in. Attention is not necessarily something you’d want to draw on yourself right now.

You finally find the room you’re supposed to be in and find about eighty other agents. A wave of anxiety rushes through you and you feel your stomach churn. You want to look around and find someone you recognize but Sam is the only one you see; you don’t know anybody. You’re scared to talk to new people, to have small talk, you’re scared of what they’ll say to you, if they’ll remember your face from the news.

You see near the front a blonde head of hair - Sharon. You haven’t spoken to her, but she’d be the safest bet, except there’s no empty seat on either side of her. She’s conversing with a woman with ginger hair to her left and a large body with short brown hair occupies the seat to her right - Bucky!

You notice there’s an empty seat next to him and quickly make your way over before your luck diminishes and someone takes it.

Bucky registers somebody take a seat next to him, which surprises him because most of the agents are still a little scared of him after spending seven weeks training with him. He certainly doesn’t treat them like shit, but he doesn’t baby them, either. He almost doesn’t notice it’s you when he glances up; he forgot you’ve changed your look a bit.

The tattoo on your next is covered with makeup, the angry face too much of an identifying feature. He knows you hate it and were planning on getting it covered anyway. You’ve removed all of your piercings and all of the tiny holes remain empty along your ears. You’ve managed to keep the tiny stud in your nose, though. Your hair is a jet black color now and it shines in the light. How has your hair survived that many dye jobs? Stupid rules for this job; no brightly colored hair or large body modifications, excluding tattoos. Draws too much attention.

He can sense your anxiety next to him; your heart is beating a mile a minute and you’re super tense. He wants to say something, do something to make you feel a bit better, put you at ease, but he can’t think of anything before Sam calls the attention of the room.

“Morning, everyone. NCIS has requested our help with finding a bomb on a Navy ship and figuring out the identity of the woman who told them about said bomb,”

Images flash up behind him projecting pictures of said woman, looking scared with a bloodied bandage on her forehead. She has a fluffy pixie-cut style dark hair and pale skin, or perhaps her skin is pale in comparison to the caked blood matted on her head. Her eyes are a bright green with minimal wrinkles adorning the outer corners. She couldn’t be older than thirty-five.

“A citizen driving by saw her wandering about the street next to a forest and when he approached her she claimed she was buried alive and couldn’t provide any information about herself; not her name, age, where she came from, or who buried her. All she kept repeating was something about a bomb on a Navy ship that was going to kill a lot of people.” Sam continues.

“I’ll be sending some of you out to Rock Creek Park to scope out the scene and some of you to Georgetown University Hospital to talk to Jane Doe. You’re dismissed but await further instruction and be prepared to ship out.” Sam finishes and everyone begins to stand, engaging in small conversations as they exit the room.

You begin to stand and follow suit but a metal hand reaches out in front of you to encourage you to take your seat once more. You throw a confused look over at Bucky, but he’s not looking at you. You glance over to Sharon, who’s staring down at her phone, and to Sam who is flicking through the file in his hands. The four of you, you notice, are the only ones still in their seats, and you quickly make the connection that you’re supposed to wait until the rest of the agents leave after a briefing.

Maybe they’re gonna haze you, newbie. You roll your eyes at that little voice as the door shut and hear it lock audibly.

The three of them glance up and stare at you expectantly. You glance between all three of them before you give up on figuring out what exactly they’re waiting for.

“Are you guys gonna haze me?”

Sharon smirks and Bucky full on chuckles at your question as Sam clarifies, “Do you see anything?”

“Oh! Oh, right, right. Uhm… It kind of doesn't work like - um, I’ll try. I’ll try and concentrate.” You excuse, and close your eyes to force yourself into that mindset.

Most of your visions happen unexpectedly and randomly, otherwise you need to put yourself in a kind of entranced state of concentration in order to, essentially, force a vision. Forcing it is usually what causes you to get the most emotional and frazzled, but nothing you can’t handle.

You feel your face heat up at the shyness your abilities are presenting right now; “Um, can we turn the lights off?” You ask quietly.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Sam speaks up.

The lights dim and you try to slow your breathing.

She’s covered in leaves and wet from humidity, the stickiness feeling unbearable on her skin. Her skin? Whose skin is that?

“It-It’s a shallow grave, and - and there’s leaves, um -” All you see and feel is pure confusion. You don’t know anything. “Why is it so shallow? They bury people six feet because - because that’s the depth where animals can’t smell dead, rotting flesh - except - except polar bears because they -” Your rambling is cut short at the sound of Bucky’s soft voice and his warm hand engulfing your shaking, clammy one.

“Sweetheart, try and focus on the Navy ship she was talking about, the bomb on the Navy ship.” He tries to get you back on track.

“Right, right, sorry,” You take a deep, shaky breath in and let out with force to calm yourself a bit.

It’s all quick white flashes, so fast and so bright that can’t see the images in between. All you get are feelings of fear and guilt -

“Do you know if she set the bomb?” A deep voice interrupts.

“Sam,” A feminine one scolds.

“What? There’s only one person that seems to know about this bomb and we’re not going to consider her a suspect?”

“She doesn’t even know who she is,”

“But -”

“She didn’t set the bomb!” You exclaim, everything becoming incredibly overwhelming all at once.

“How do you know?” Bucky asks, his calm demeanor influencing your own as you rub your face to somewhat pull yourself together.

“I - I - I just do! I don’t know! I - I keep seeing bomben hersteller, what - what is that?” You ask.

“That’s bomb fabricator in German.” Bucky translates.

“Okay, let’s stop for a second.” Sharon says, “This is a lot of new information, we should wait and see what evidence and samples come back from the crime scene and see what we can get out of her when the agents interview her at the hospital, maybe her condition’s changed and she remembers something, yeah?” You quickly realize that Sharon is the piece of mind between the dynamic of her and Sam while he strategizes the plans. They work extremely well together.

“Okay, okay. Agent, you did very well. Good job.” Sam praises before leaving to exit the conference room, you assume to go give the agents their orders. Sharon sends you a sweet smile before following Sam out.

You look back at Bucky and he’s already looking at you, smile on his face. “You did really good.” He tells you.

“Thanks.” You respond, feeling a lot calmer.

The two of you are sitting awfully close to each other, you notice, bodies turned to face each other in the rolling chairs you sit in. Bucky’s leaning closer towards you than you are him, his forearm pushing on the armrest and you find yourself pulling your eyes away from his and they travel around his face.

Bucky has beautifully long eyelashes and tiny sunspots and freckles that decorate his skin; skin that’s had over a hundred years of wear. He’s kept his hair short but has been growing out his beard, not to an uncomfortable burly length, but enough to leave quite the dark shadow. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips and your eyes flash down there.

You don’t even remember the last time you kissed someone, let alone someone you actually wanted to kiss, not a kiss that was forced upon you. Is he actually about to fucking kiss me right now?

Panic quickly rises through your body and you clear your throat and look away, “Uh, now what?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I can’t go out on missions or anything, so do I, uh, just wait to be summoned, I guess?” Summoned? Why are you so awkward?

“Pretty much, yeah. I’ll, uh, be sticking around, too. Sometimes for ongoing missions I stick around in one of the spare rooms until the case is over.” He softly tells you, unmoving from how close he’s sitting next to you and voice still low and smooth, not looking away from you. Can he tell how nervous and awkwardly attracted to him you feel right now?

“What about Alpine?” You whisper back.

“What?” His eyes are the ones drifting down to your lips, now. Soft looking lips that look like they could kiss him silly and unconscious.

“Alpine?”

“Oh, uh, she stays with my, uh, my neighbor. This little old lady next door to me.” Great, now I’m thinking about my old lady neighbor. You’re biting that lip now and he thinks he might start drooling when you stand suddenly.

“I, uh, just remembered. I have to… clean! I have to clean up, so. I’ll see you.” You push out before finally exiting the room and making your way down the hallway.

You release a frustrated, “Fuck…” as the elevator doors close in front of you.

Meanwhile, Bucky lets out his own groan of frustration in the conference room, hands pushed against his eyes rubbing harshly, “Fuck…”

[rivetwrites]

kaito fluff alphabet maybe? apologies if you already did it lol

//of course i can!! this is also for the other anon who asked!!

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

Kaito Momota Fluff Alphabet

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Kaito loves going outside with you after sundown to look at the stars! He can go on and on about which star is which, when the solar system was created, when the sun will explode! If you get too cold, he would wrap you in his jacket and carry you inside to watch some space documentaries! He really loves showing his passion with you, and hopefully you can learn stuff from him!

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He’s a very stubborn and boisterous guy, so patience is a virtue. You’ll also have to be stubborn as well, making him shut up for once before he talks off his head. On you, he loves your eyes! He loves looking at them under the starlight whenever you two go outside during the night.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Kaito is horrible with comforting. He feels like a good workout with your friends is a good way to get rid of your bad feelings! Sometimes he’ll have to be reminded that it doesn’t work like that, and he’ll start to get serious. He’d bring you candy and sugary drinks, bringing you to his chest as he lets you talk it out. 

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He has many dreams for the future! He would like to have a family too, but after he’s gone to space and have a stable job, of course. He wants to be able to provide for you and the family!

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Definitely the dominant one, he’s the man of the house! ....Until you tell him that you and him should have equal parts in the relationship, then he’ll begrudgingly accept. He’s never been in a proper relationship before, so the two of you together will learn new experiences! 

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Kaito is very carefree, and would sometimes never see if you’re upset or not. He’s optimistic, so whenever he makes you upset, he’ll see it as you getting fired up for workouts! When that’s not the case, he’ll get embarrassed and apologize to you. Whenever you make him upset, he’s very stubborn and would give you the silent treatment. Until he’s not able to keep his mouth shut anymore, then he’ll accept your apology.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s extremely grateful for you and how you’ve helped him and his friends! He’s more on the smooth brain side when it comes to noticing what you do for him, but a good reminder from Shuichi and a smack on the head from Maki, he’ll return the favour ten fold.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Insanely honest, and he never really hides anything from you. He’s an open guy and he trusts you! He’s not the very best at keeping heavy secrets, since he tends to overshare to his friends, but a good smack on the side of the head will knock some sense into him.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You’ve probably helped him be able to cope with his emotions in a more healthy manner. He was taught that men shouldn’t cry or feel any sadness inside. That they should be “real men.” With you, he was able to be vulnerable and slowly lose the old fashioned way of thinking. You’ve probably learned how to be more positive and look at the more positive outlook on situations!

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Whenever he even spots someone even attempting to flirt with you, he gets defensive and aggressive. He’ll make sure that they know that you two are together, but if they persist, he’ll punch them in the face. You’d have to drag him off before he seriously hurts the person. Afterwards, he’d apologize for being so careless and say that he just doesn’t want to lose you.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

The first kiss with him would be slightly awkward. He’s tall and clumsy as he smashed his lips into yours. He’s not embarrassed by it though! “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to practice!”

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Usually, he would try to play off his feelings as “amazing friendship,” but Shuichi and Maki would have to tell him otherwise. At first, he wouldn’t want to be in a relationship, since he’s too busy trying to get into space, but the feelings would become too much for him. He’ll drag you off into somewhere private, trying to play it off as going to train, and confess to you. When you accept, he’ll have the biggest grin on his face, lifting you up to give you a big hug.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He’d love to get married to you! He would pop the question while you two would be eating, or in the most random moment. The wedding will be pretty big, inviting his friends and family! He wants it to be the night to remember for the both of you.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Anything space related! “My little star,” “sunshine,” or just “babe,” when he wants to be more classic.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Kaito would scoop you into his arms, carrying you back to bed as he wrapped the both of you into the blankets. He would confess (loudly) his love for you over and over again until you giggle. He won’t leave you alone for awhile, stealing kisses from you every now and again.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Kaito always has his arm around you in public, silently telling everyone around you that you’re not for the taking. Small cheek kisses would be often with him too! He’s not embarrassed at all! Sometimes he’ll gloat, as he feels like the luckiest guy in the world to be with you!

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s very optimistic! He always finds the light in a bad situation, which sometimes can be annoying when you just want to complain, but he tries his best! He’s also very protective, so if anyone is ever hurting you, he’ll hurt him twice as bad!

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s a bit of both. Sometimes he’ll be cliché and give you cheesy little dates, but usually, he wants excitement! His biggest dream date would be to take you to space with him! 

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Biggest supporter out there. If he can get into a college level test with a fake ID, he can do anything for you to reach your goals. He also has goals that he’s still working to, so he’ll help you with yours too!

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Definitely wants to try out new things with you! Everything happens spontaneous with him, so there’s never a routine with him. Sometimes you’ll need to slow him down, since he’s always so excited to do stuff with you.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He doesn’t really understand your feelings that much, since he doesn’t really know how to healthily deal with his own. But if he even sees you the slightest bit of sad, he will scoop you into his arms and do his best to try to make you laugh!

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

He’ll say it until the end of time, that you mean more to him than space itself! He makes sure that you know that he loves you everyday.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

You and Kaito watch documentaries a lot, which they’re mostly about space. He’ll talk and talk into detail about what’s going on. Usually you’d fall asleep, since he can go on and on. When he notices, he turns off the TV, wrapping you in a blanket and carry you to bed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He loves kissing and cuddling you any chance he gets! He always has his hands on you, no matter where you two are. His favourite is having you lay on his chest as you two lay on the couch and watch TV!

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Usually being with his friends or working out will help him forget about you being gone, but Shuichi and Maki would be extremely annoyed, since he would never shut up about you. Once you return, he’d scoop you up into his arms, peppering you face in small kisses as he confesses how much he missed you.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

If he was able to get a fake ID just to take a college test about astronomy, you damn well know he’ll go all out for you.

[the-creative-lounge-blog]

Third Shift Kakashi - A Lounge Round Robin Story

In this modern AU in-server event for November, Loungers tell the tale of Kakashi's night shift at a convenience store/gas station one sentence at a time.

What is a round robin story? A round robin story is a story that is written by multiple people. Participants take turns contributing a sentence. The last sentence is sent to the next person, who adds their sentence, and then the process repeats through an established amount of time (our event lasted one week).

Participants in Third Shift Kakashi were contacted via DM with the last sentence, and they replied with one new sentence.

Often, round robin stories don’t make sense and they’re meant to make us laugh. To ensure this, a ridiculous topic was chosen from among the MANY fantastic plot bunnies that are Kakashi Lounge-originals:

Third shift Kakashi: Our favorite tired ninja dork punches in at 10pm to begin his third shift at the 7-11 (or Speedway, Circle K, Kwik Trip, or your country's equivalent of a 24-hour gas station/convenience store). Strange things happen during his nightshift but participants decide what those things are. The Slurpee machine gains sentience. Ōtsutsuki aliens land in the parking lot. Cheeto-fingers Obito tries to steal jerky. Deidara tries to use a fake ID to buy beer. Granny Chiyo comes in and pays with pennies. Any and all of these are believable occurrences from 10pm-6am, and more. The weirder, the better.

The only rules were to keep it rated T, and no romantic pairings.

This dumpster fire masterpiece of a round robin story was written by: @maiikawriter, @fleuraison7, Kitera_Matar, /vastments, @mouseymightymarvellous, @thetoxicstrawberry, @myaekingheart, @mallml, @nibbler747, @syusukewrites, @asiriyep, @azuzel23, @tenzosnewleaf, and @hkandiu (all contributed sentences are in italics and each are double-spaced) with opening and closing paragraphs written by @ohayohimawari:

Kakashi sighed as he punched in twelve minutes late to his shift. He’d been late enough times to warrant a written warning from management, but that threat was nothing compared to what he experienced during his overnight shifts at Konoha’s 24/7 convenience store. He pulled his book out of his back pocket with more hope than expectation that he’d actually find time to read amidst the strange things that occurred between 10 pm and 6 am. 

Yukiko and her lover were just getting around to second base and ready to confess their love in this chapter when he’d had to leave for work.

Kakashi pocketed the worn Icha Icha volume reluctantly, hoping for a quiet shift so that he could dive into it again later, and took his prepared bag to head out to his workplace.

Kakashi walked through the store, prepared bag in hand, Icha Icha in his pocket, and sighed as he saw the repeat customer hovering by the front counter.

“No, Naruto, we still haven’t received the limited edition Gutsy Shinobi ramen cups; I told you I’ll call you if we get them.”

Kakashi never heard Naruto’s reply, because his voice was suddenly drowned out by the deep growl of engines pulling into the station, and any hope he had for an uneventful shift was dashed just as quickly as Naruto’s chance of indulging in the delicious goodness of Gutsy Shinobi ramen with the arrival of the Akatsuki Biker Gang.

The group of delinquents strolled into the store as if they owned the place, all sporting matching black leather jackets with red cloud patches on the shoulders and back--an omen that things were about to go south very quickly.

Without seeming to lift his eyes from his book, Kakashi sighed to himself as he watched them clumsily stuff candy bars and Slim Jims under their jackets... were the Akatsuki having an initiation night?

Should he bother confronting them?  The long expired Slim Jims they were about to partake in might be punishment enough.

Kakashi put on his best fake customer service smile and didn't say anything - whatever they were stealing, he wasn't paid enough to care.

He sighed. ‘Sir, if you lick the candy bars one more time it’s a week ban. Not so funny when you can’t get those stale nachos, huh?’

Just to prove his point, and maybe because he was feeling a bit exasperated by now, Kakashi carefully unwrapped a candy bar of his own and inhaled the whole thing in two seconds beneath his mask - leaving the visitor stunned, staring wide-eyed with new appreciation at the silver-haired man’s obvious authority on the subject of candy-bar licking.

"Ew," Naruto reminded Kakashi of his presence at the same time that Deidara tried to sneak a six-pack of Budweiser beneath his shirt, so he changed tack to deal with the Akatsuki Biker Gang because he wanted to keep his loyal customers.

Although, 'loyal customers' was a bit of a stretch at times; yes, they frequented the place often, but more often than not they also gave him quite the headache.

He was too tired for this shit at this hour of the day. 

Kakashi did what he was best at - feigning boredom and being unaffected by what was happening in the hope that the problem solved itself.

Kakashi pulled out his beloved Icha Icha and proceeded to hide behind the vivid orange cover as he ignored the problem happening in front of him.

The Akatsuki biker gang couldn’t be so easily ignored, as Hidan proved when he snatched the orange book from Kakashi’s hand.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kakashi said pleasantly, his best customer service smile sharp as blades under his mask, “but that’s not for sale.”

Hidan squinted and flipped the book sideways in a gesture that made Kakashi think he had never held a book before, let alone read one, and Kakashi’s eyes flicked to the closed-circuit camera in the corner as he contemplated forgoing his service training in order to retrieve it, but stopped when he noticed the suspicious red smudges that the man’s fingertips left behind on the cover of his cherished Icha Icha.

It was too bright to be anything ominous - in fact, it matched the same shade as the cherry-flavored Slurpee they offered - but Kakashi wasn’t about to let Hidan slide on stealing a mouthful of frozen delight, or marring his favorite book, so he growled, “You owe me two dollars for the drink and a new copy of Icha-Icha.”

"Two dollars!--look, I'd pay ya, but my partner's a real Stooge [sic] with the purse strings... how 'bout I make it up to you in the stock room instead, if you know what I mean?" the gray-haired religious fetishist suggested with a waggle of eyebrows.

Kakashi considered the offer as it would lessen his shift duties and afford more time to read, however, just then his, Naruto’s, and every head belonging to the Akatsuki biker gang turned to the main entrance when the cheerful ding sounded announcing the arrival of another repeat customer, Granny Chiyo, with her fists full of scratch-off lottery tickets.

Granny Chiyo, was a legend not just for being the bad-ass take no names grandmother of one of the more dangerous Akatsuki gang members, but also for being thrifty.  She slammed the scratch off lottery tickets on the counter, and reached into her jacket and pulled out Kakashi's most dreaded item - the jar of pennies.

She placed the jar on the counter with a loud clunk before reaching inside and pulling out pennies one by one, counting them on the counter under her breath. "This will only take a moment" she assured him, "I want to be precise!"

Kakashi took in the mayhem around him with a glazed 100-meter stare.  There'd been worse nights, right? No machetes yet, right? All he needed was to make it to break time and have a smoke. 10 minutes.. Kakashi inhaled deeply and cleared his throat 'Take ALL the time you need Ma'am.'  He shouldn't get involved right? He needed to man the till, right?

Kakashi smiled at Chiyo who was determined to pay for her weird collection of knickknacks with a gajillion pennies, but couldn't help glancing at the security camera that showed an energetic teenager mid-dance battle with the local biker gang; the only thing more bizarre would be Gai showing up to join them and to be honest he wouldn't be surprised.

The universe was not about to pass over an opportunity like that; if Kakashi had learned anything in his long years, it was that the best way to handle the sudden burst of GREEN and NOISE that assaulted his senses (out of seemingly nowhere) was to remain calm and tip a casual “Yo” to his rival while keeping an eye on Chiyo, the teenager, the biker gang, and the dance battle all at once... Gai would probably join the dance battle in a few minutes anyway.

Because, hello my dear, he wasn't going to leave his dignity in pieces. Better dead than ridiculous ... Although maybe ...?

He ran a hand through his already unruly hair as he rolled his shoulders, getting ready for whatever lay ahead; a quick glance at the clock confirmed his shift still had a long ways to go.

There was no time to relax when the biker gang was already making a move on some products, thinking he wouldn’t notice.

Kakashi decided that losing his job over a bunch of tough dudes acting like broke teenagers wasn't worth it, so he strode over to them first; maybe Gai would help him if they got violent - not that Kakashi would need help with that though.

And that was when it all exploded as Gai joined the dance battle causing them to knock over a display onto the Akatsuki teenage biker gang who exploded in rage causing both the aged Chiyo and Naruto to get knocked to the ground.

Kakashi in panic rushed to Naruto almost running over the old Chiyo and got out his flute then started to bang in on poor knocked-out Naruto's head, the Akatsuki teenage biker gang all nodded as they understood that it was an extremely necessary step of Cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

Gai—either unconcerned, not noticing the damage, or convinced that anything can be solved with the power of dance—dropped to the ground in an impressive worm, once more pulling the attention of the Akatsuki members.

Instigated by the impromptu dance party, the eccentric masked Akatsuki member jumped up onto a tower of canned diet Coke and started beat boxing, and Kakashi could only watch in horror as Gai’s worm morphed into break dancing.

Kakashi sighed and rubbed his tired eyes from behind the counter as he watched Gai break dance down the snack aisle to the rhythm of the masked man's beatboxing, onlookers pumping their fists and cheering as another Akatsuki gang member started to rap about how "art is an explosion."

'What the hell,' was the thought that echoed through Kakashi's aching head with increasing volume; what the hell indeed?--and as he ripped off his red vest  and leapt to the top of the counter, the crowd, one by one, turned toward him and fell silent: the cheering onlookers, the masked beat-boxer, the pony-tailed blond... until, at last, the only sound and movement was the frenzied tricking of Gai as the spandex-clad man danced on, unaware.

As he crouched on the counter he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with this - but desperate times called for desperate measures.  He grabbed a Slim Jim and held it up as a mic.  There was only one song that would shut them up.

Kakashi started the song softly, but got louder with each word, one hand leading the dance as he ever so slightly got closer to the crowd and then- 3am really was the witching hour, huh? - the crowd joined his dance and with each Ey macarena they were inching a little closer towards the exit in perfect synchrony.

Just then, Naruto regained consciousness and after blinking several times at the chaotic crowd, exclaimed, “What happened to the old lady that was here?”

Kakashi dropped the Slim Jim mic at these words, and glanced where Chiyo had once stood only to find a list of her purchases and her payment-the jar of pennies-waiting to be counted. He ran a hand down his face, noticed the mess below the dripping slurpee machine, spied Deidara passed out in a corner with empty beer cans around him, Kisame and Itachi not-so-secretly pocketing sunglasses, while Hidan sang and Gai danced on with abandon.

Irritably grabbing the mop for what would not be the last time that night, Kakashi unceremoniously stepped over Naruto.

Kakashi briefly considered whether or not this job was really worth the $7.25 per hour it paid him, before surreptitiously mopping himself within a meter of Itachi and Kisame, who he surprised with a heavy “Thwack!” of the mop handle across the backs of both their legs, causing them each to drop a pair of sunglasses and clap their hands across their backsides to smooth the stinging sensation.

He laughed devilishly, enjoying the momentary respite  from the craziness of the shift and the antics of his so-called customers; was anyone actually buying anything tonight?

No matter, they didn’t need to, as long as they would get out.

But they just wouldn't get out, so Kakashi had to take more drastic measures - the fire alarm would get him into trouble with his employer, faking a power failure seemed like a safe option though, so he went over to the power box, turned off the main switch and listened with a deep satisfaction to the surprised screams and commotions in the shop.

“Lights are out,” Kakashi stated obviously, walking carefully back towards the register, “so if everybody could put any unpurchased items down and carefully head towards the still illuminated exit signs, that would be greatly appreciated.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by murmuring, and then the faint crumpling sound of what was either plastic encased items being set aside, or even more likely, being concealed in pockets.

While Kakashi knew that letting customers get away with stealing would come back to haunt him if and when his boss found out, at this rate he quite frankly couldn't even care--and besides, with all the lights off, he doubted the security cameras would pick up anything anyway.

As the subdued miscreants groped blindly to the door, illuminated only by the impassive green of the EXIT sign, Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief that his shift was finally winding down--that is, until the resounding BOOM that echoed from the front parking lot.

The screech of tires, the thundering bass, it was a sound he was only too familiar with -  it could only be one man.

Finally, finally the whole bunch was gone, only to be replaced by the loudest most obnoxious person he could think of, but Killer B was a regular and as such Kakashi had to endure his bad rapping.

Kakashi threw his head back and softly yeeted with fingers pointed skywards "Pew, pew pew! Fxxx my life!"

As the giant strode inside, clapped his hands on the countertop at the register and whooped “Yo! Bakayaro! Konoyaro! Kakashi, better watch me, can’t copy me, yeeeahhh!” the shopkeep wondered where this cheerful monster had been earlier, when so many folks were acting the fool (no doubt Killer Bee would have assisted him in wiping the floor with two or five of the previous visitors); “Bee, my man, you have no idea the kind of night I’ve been having...”

Unfortunately for Kakashi, Bee had become distracted by a motion sensor dancing sunflower, and took its song as a challenge for a mini rap battle.

"Yo, this flower's got moves! Look at it swaying while I spit some rad tunes!" Bee enthused and all Kakashi could manage in reply was a tired "You should've seen the dance battle earlier."

Lifting up his sunglasses to peer more closely at Kakashi's face--how was he able to see with those on in the middle of the night? the silveret wondered--B  yelled concernedly, "Yo man, feeling tired? Uninspired? Say no more! Let's hit the door!" and, heedless of Kakashi's terrified recoil, scooped the smaller man up under his arm and boogied them to his ride, parked across three spaces in the parking lot.

“What is the meaning of this?” The assistant shift supervisor, Danzo, showed up at the door, with Konoha’s 24/7 general manager, Hiruzen, right behind him. 

“Um—” Kakashi began, and ended because there was no explaining it. 

“You’re fi—” 

“I quit!” Kakashi shouted, silencing Danzo. 

Bee brandished a peace sign while Kakashi offered a much ruder gesture and the pair took off in search of an after party, or a nap. 

Just then, Naruto-whom everyone forgot about-stepped out from behind an endcap of ramen cups. “Does this mean you’re hiring?” 

Hiruzen smiled, “I’ll get you an application.”

The End

 Do you have an idea for a title? Add it in the replies to this post!

[hatsukeii]

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫

𝐏𝐭.𝟑- 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟓𝐤+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

It’s hard to focus in class when your mind is stuck on a fucking puzzle of a person. It’s even harder when he’s right in front of you, blocking your view. Did it really have to be today? Hm? He really had to transfer to your science class today? Maybe it was just a coincidence, or maybe it was a way the universe decided to taunt you with. “Hey, you want to lose the thought of him? Cool, here, stare at his back throughout your science lesson!” Either way, this was exactly what you didn’t want happening. “Hey, hey you, dude can you hear me?” You poked your pencil into his back frantically, praying for even the slightest reaction. A nod, a shrug, anything. “Please, I can’t see shit sitting behind you, can we switch?” Everything went silent when the teacher stopped talking. “(Y/n), is there something you would like to share with the class?” Timidly, you stood up from your seat, head hanging low as you gripped the pen tighter, face red and hot from the embarrassment of being called out openly in front of 24 other students. “Nothing Miss, I just can’t see the board because Tsuk-” You stopped yourself before you could accidentally blurt his name out. You weren’t about to let him know you found out his name, which he never revealed to you. “He’s too tall.” The older woman nodded her head slowly, as if she was trying to take back her previous sentence. “Then you should’ve told me earlier. Tsukishima, please switch seats with them.” “Sure.”

The glare that was burning into your back crawled up your spine chillingly as you nervously packed all your notes up. You were embarrassed about being nervous but quickly discarded the thought. Who wouldn’t be nervous if someone started glaring daggers at you so vigorously that you could feel them without even looking? Shaking your head, you slung your bag over your shoulder, itching to get out of the lab as soon as you possibly can. “He didn’t hear me, I’m sure he didn’t. He couldn’t have.” Mumbling pointlessly worked to stop your eyes from darting around and maybe even cooled your burning hot ears down, even if it was just by a bit. Maybe convincing yourself he didn’t hear you would make it true? Right? Your train of thoughts was interrupted when you jerked forward, sudden pain flashing through your arm all the way to your shoulder as your legs are forced to move along with your body. Your wrist was being squeezed so hard that you’re almost certain a bruise will form in its place. Looking up, your eyes widened in shock and disbelief as your eyes were met with a full head of blond hair. This was exactly who you were trying to avoid. “Uh, where exactly are you takin-” Your words were caught in your throat as Tsukishima sent another icy glare at you. You shut your mouth and just followed him, not wanting to test his limits at all. His knuckles were white from gripping your wrist so hard, you almost yelled out in pain when he threw it back to your side. “Ow, dude what the hell!” 

“Care to explain how you got my name?”

The air was thick as your mind scrambled for an answer that would satisfy him. What was he expecting? Why was it such a big deal that you knew his name? 

“What’s your deal? I got it from Mai, if it rattles you that much to not know.”

His face stayed completely indifferent, and it was intimidating. Almost terrifying in a way. The way his head was tilted at a slight angle, one of his eyebrows perked as he stifled a breathy chuckle, that was a sight you never wanted to witness again. Ever. “And why the fuck would Mai randomly tell you my name? Did you not take the hint when I left my name out of the conversation the other day?” Heat slowly burned from your chest, to your ears, and to your throat. “Dude fucking chill, I just told her about how I helped you through that panic attack, what do you want me to do?” To you, your reply wasn’t triggering or anything. All girls do is gossip, right? It was pretty much expected, however, Tsukishima’s face said otherwise. “Tch, heh.” Another breathy chuckle. What was it with him and breathy chuckles? Was it a way for him to mock you? Accuse you for doing something he didn’t like? “When did I ever say you could tell someone I had a panic attack?” Once that sentence came out of his mouth, whatever retort you were ready to throw at him stopped at your throat as your mind registered how badly you fucked up. “I- but I didn’t- was I not supposed to tell?” Clicking his tongue, his nimble fingers travelled up to his glasses, giving them a light push as he rolled his eyes. “No, you weren’t supposed to.” “Well, um I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” The blond turned around, not sparing another glance as he spat out a final sentence to you.

“Let’s never talk again. Please.”

Which led to you, sitting on your bed, once again trying to get your mind off of him. “Oh shit, I really done fucked up this time.” What was this feeling? This bizarre determination blooming in your chest, pulling you further ahead on a lasso into the depths of the mind of the boy that was Tsukishima Kei? The way he heaved breathy, sarcastic chuckles, his popularity despite how closed off his personality is, it was intriguing. His entire presence was daring you to dig deeper into this wormhole. “What the fuck do I do now...” You fell into your bed, the mattress sinking behind you. You really shouldn’t have been feeling like this. Tsukishima was quite literally irrelevant in your life, maybe except for that one time you stayed with him for a while to calm him down. He could probably figure out his problems just fine by himself. You interfering wasn’t going to make a difference at all. However, the small, irrational part of your mind was drilling its words into your mind. What if this was a lasting problem for him? What if you were fated to meet in that bustling hallway the other day? What if you were the person that could provide him comfort when he needs it the most? Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, your eyes squinted as your brows knitted. You were cringing so hard at your own fantasies. It was probably because of how boring your life has been lately. There was absolutely nothing for you to look forward to. Life was becoming more of a chore than it should. This, however. This was the little bit of spice you were craving so dearly for. If anybody needed help, you wouldn’t hesitate at this point. Anything was on the table as long as it could intrigue you enough to keep searching for a solution. 

Being so invested in your own thoughts, the simple ring of your phone was enough to make you jolt up in surprise from your bed. “My god, that scared the shit out of me.” Placing a hand on your chest, you slowly inched yourself to the end of your bed and reached over to your phone, which was conveniently charging on the floor. “No caller ID, huh...” You hesitated, managing your expectations. “What if it’s him? No, nonono it’s probably not him, (Y/n), chill, deep breaths.” After your finger hovered above the answer button for what seemed like an eternity, you pressed the green circle, before turning it on speaker mode. “Hel-” “I’M SO SORRY!” “What?” The voice on the other side of the line sounded apologetic, almost in a frantic way. “First off, who is this?” A few seconds went by without a word. “I’m Yamaguchi, I saw you get dragged off by Tsukki this morning, please don’t mind him! He acts like this sometimes!” You stifled a chuckle, before cracking up like a madwoman. “SERIOUSLY? HAHAHAHA, WHY WOULD YOU APOLOGISE ON BEHALF OF HIM?” You could almost imagine Yamaguchi’s hands waving in front of him. “NONONO IT’S JUST BECAUSE TSUKKI DOESN’T LIKE TO APOLOGISE BY HIMSELF! You see, he tends to push people away for no reason, it’s really not a personal thing!” Your mouth stretched up into a smirk as a genius idea popped into your brain like an animated light bulb. “Well, if that’s the case, I won’t accept the apology until he does it himself in person. What about you convince him to give me a proper one instead of having his friend do it for him, hm?” Ending the call, you continued to giggle underneath your blanket, seal clapping your hands until it landed in the wrong position and hit your wrist instead. You winced at the familiar pain that flashed through the flesh of your wrist. “Oh that little shit really messed my wrist up this morning didn’t he?” Without thinking, you started poking the bruises, wincing in pain with each poke. “He better give me a nice, big apology tomorrow or I’ll beat his ass...”

Tags:

@sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @tiger1719 @tiredgr3mlin @trashcanweeb @itmekisuu @fandomwriter73 @random-fandomlover @samanthaa-leanne @sneezefiction @bokutokoutarou @skyeackermans @ewfilthymundane @mariechan123 @saturnmoon @macaronnv @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @artsamber @kaylacinderella @agentvicinity @sakusasgarbage @tchalameme @onigirinimiya @korean-bbq

Guess what YA GIRL HATSSUN’S BACK I’m so sorry I was unmotivated but I’M BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER MAYBE NOT REALLY<33

[thebonggirll]

Chapter 22 - First Day

Chapter 21

The Aquamarine Agency was a huge building with impressive infrastructure, decorated beautifully with stuffs like seashells, corals, etc. Y/N walked towards the reception, and gave a copy of her internship form to the lady standing behind it. Although it wasn't needed, because all eyes were set on her the moment she entered the building. Ofcourse, they heard about the rumors and almost everyone stared at her nowadays but here, in this building, people were staring at her because of her power and quirk.

"You were impressive there. I was rooting for you, and we are really glad that you chose our agency," the lady behind the desk said with a smile and handed her ID card, "Here's your ID card. You need to wear it for the rest of the days whenever you come here. The lift is to the right. And the students waiting room is on the 3rd floor, room number 405."

"Uh, thank you." Y/N smiled, wearing the ID card immediately. She left the lobby and walked to the waiting room. All the other students were staring at her when she entered the room. Some of them were nice and introduced themselves.

"Hey, all the others are afraid to ask so I will just be straight with my question." A guy with black hair and blue highlights which matched his eyes asked her, "Aren't you the girl who's rumored to be going out with Endeavor's son?"

Y/N chuckled at his straightforward question and answered, "Honestly I'm kind of glad you asked instead of just staring at me. Yeah, it's just a rumor. I fainted and he was just helping me by melting the ice."

"Yeah, I kinda figured. Oh, I'm Oikawa by the way," he said.

"And I am-"

"Y/N Y/L/N, we all know that."

After a short while, Y/N saw a lady come over and call all of the students waiting in the room. She took them to the main office where the hero along with the assistants were waiting. Her hair was tied in a pigtail, her hero costume looked mostly like what a diver wears. It wasn't exactly shiny or something catchy but it definitely had multipurposes.

"Oh! You're here! Come in!" the lady said, keeping down her pen and concentrating on the interns. "I'm glad that all of you joined. We definitely didn't expect so many of you here, but oh well! The more, the merrier! Let's start with our introductions. I am the Water Hero of Peace: Baiji. Well, I did come up with the 'peace' later when I heard what people frequently call me on local news. Cool right?!"

"Well, she looks lively." Y/N thought. She noticed the assistants standing beside her, with comforting smiles on their faces.

Baiji clasped her hands and got up. "I hope you're ready for the training you're going to receive. Today we will just focus on cleaning up. We do fight against villains and protect people, but making sure the water body is clean also falls on our part of job."

It turned out that Baiji was actually serious about cleaning. Every intern was assigned with a small part of the bay and assistants of the water hero were there to keep supervision on them. Y/N realized, it might be because some of these interns might slack off. And she was right, but a few also threw a tantrum over how this was not what they were here to learn. She considered herself lucky to be not one of those, since these interns were given double amount of cleaning and an hour of it everyday.

"Yes, you are going to be a hero. But firstly, you've to get off that high horse and be on the same level as the general public. Only then you'll be able to see through their eyes. It often helps in figuring out the kind of villains you'll be dealing with. Being a hero doesn't just mean saving lives, but also inspiring them to be a better human being."

"That's a lot of responsibility," one guy said.

"It's a choice though, and a lot less than what mothers have in general," she replied, with the same smile she had in the morning.

When almost everyone was done with the cleaning, Baiji came to inspect their work.

"It's not clean."

"Maám you didn't give us instructions on whether we are allowed to go in the middle of the waters," Y/N said.

"Europa, was it?" Baiji turned to her asking, to which Y/N nodded her head in answer, "Well, you are not allowed to go there without permission, ofcourse."

"So can we go now? Are we allowed to take a boat?" A guy asked.

"A boat?! Wha- okay, what agency did you join?"

"Aquamarine, ma'am."

"And what are the common features in all of your quirks?"

"Water, ma'am."

"Then don't ask stupid questions boy! Use your quirk!" Baiji said, her ears getting bright red. One of her assistants held her shoulders, in an attempt to calm her down, "What?! They're supposed to be smart by now!"

"Regardless, you're supposed to train and teach them."

"Okay smartass," Baiji pouted.

"Language."

"Ugh, okay get to work heroes. I shouldn't be able to find a single trash in water."

Y/N controlled the water body and made it flow towards herself, collecting the trash and keeping it in a bag beside her. At first she wasn't able to reach the ones too far away, but watching her peers and the techniques they used, she learnt to use it a bit differently and control the waters. About half an hour later, when the interns looked a bit tired, Baiji came forward and called them.

"I'm bored. Let's make it a bit interesting. I'll be exactly in the middle of all of the assigned posts. I'll pull the trash towards me, and it's your responsibility to make sure each and every one of these are out within the next half an hour. I'll create disturbance and make sure you don't achieve it by the way. Good luck!" she jumped into the water, and was in her position in a minute.

"Just swimming couldn't do that," Y/N thought, "she's really good in controlling the water."

"Ready? Start!"

Y/N was ready to pull the water towards herself with all of her strength. But suddenly she heard a whipping sound and looking up, she saw Baiji throwing what looked like broken tin cans. She jumped back, dodging it by an inch. Y/N tried to catch the others thrown at them with the help of her quirk. Within a minute, the water current started going the opposite and she looked at Baiji with a amused smile on her face. She wasn't only throwing tin cans at them, but also using it as an opportunity to take the trash towards herself.

She tried every other way to try and get the trash towards herself, but it didn't work. Y/N sucked at multi-tasking. She knew that she couldn't just wait for her quirk to miraculously become stronger and get all the trash out. The only plan she had in mind was to somehow distract the pro hero. Maybe, if she was able to distract her only for a minute or so, it would be more than enough for the others to get the trash out. And Baiji was someone who loved flaunting about her powers. It took some time, and Y/N didn't know if this was gonna work but in this field of work there would be times that she has to make plans without anyone's help. She needed to test it, and only 7 minutes were left.

"Hey! You'll get just a few minutes to clean up!" Y/N said, and used her quirk to move fast near Baiji, just like she did before fainting in front of Todoroki.

Y/N was about to hit her with one of her water blade technique at first, but Baiji was quick to notice her. And in no time, another tin can was thrown at her. The water was fierce and uncontrollable near the hero, and she had just one chance to do something that would distract Baiji.

And she did, although it was a careless move. Y/N just stopped controlling the water with her quirk. Her body suddenly got dragged under water and with the amount of power that Baiji was using, she would either drown or get thrown far away.

Her move made Baiji panic. She stopped controlling the water and rushed to search for her, when suddenly interns took control and using their quirk, pulled the trash towards themselves. Coughing, Y/N used her quirk to swim fast back to her assigned post. But she was too tired, something she didn't think of. She never thought water could make her feel tired, when it was her own quirk.

Y/N felt arms on her waist. She looked up to see one of Baiji's assistants carrying her towards the land. She was surprised to see her part of water clean along the way.

"Ah, damn that almost drowned me. Didn't worry about that before," Y/N chuckled sitting down on the stairs and resting her body on the concrete wall behind her. The interns walked up to her and sat down on the stairs beside her - all tired after using their quirk for an hour straight nonstop.

"Remember, too much of anything is bad," Baiji said, kneeling down in front of the exhausted interns with a small smile. "One of my assistant will escort all of you to your dorm."

Baiji smiled at Y/N and said, "Well done." She walked away with her sidekick, as the interns broke down into a joyful laugh, finally feeling comfortable to talk among themselves. The assistant called for them and they got up to follow him.

"Baiji complimented you," the assistant said to Y/N as they were walking.

"Yeah well, she's a cheerful lady," Y/N replied.

"No, she might be cheerful but you've no idea how hard she is on the interns. Besides, she's a little petty too. She would never admit that an 'intern' outsmarted her."

"Oh, then...that probably means she'll be extra hard on me?"

"You're right about that."

Y/N sighed, already worried about her training even though it was only the first day.

On the other hand, Baiji's sidekick was observing her mentor closely. "Oh god! Just say it already instead of staring!" Baiji shouted at him.

"They were different from the other times, right?"

"This batch is surely different. None of the interns of the previous years had the guts to do something other than try their best to pull out the trash. Besides...that girl from U.A. Academy..."

"What surprised me is that not even a single one of them talked to each other. How did they plan this? It was also the girl, wasn't it?"

"Yes, and I've no idea whether she's too dumb or too smart but it was just over in a few minutes and she trusted the other interns to actually do it."

"But they did it, didn't they? The people who didn't even talk when they arrived are now actually getting to know each other."

"So she's one of those..." Baiji smiled, taking out her activity sheet and writing down the progress of her interns. For a long time, she didn't write these new qualities, and it felt nice.

Her pen moved and in a beautiful cursive handwriting, she wrote the words -Glue of the team.

Chapter 23

SEASON - II

Ignite

MASTERLIST

[coraxaviary]

Sister-in-Arms | CHAPTER 9: Men Without Women

(Part I, Run the Gauntlet)

Summary: More training. Friday nights bring out the worst in men.

Word Count: 5.9k

AO3 | Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Author’s Note: Heavy chapter ahead. Please heed the warning. More notes at the end.

Warnings: !!!!! Mentions/depictions of attempted sexual assault !!!!!

Taglist: @keoghans​​ @papercinders​​ @junojelli​​ @notmykirk​​​ @wolfers-stuff​ (add yourself!)

.

It was Friday night again: the week had passed agonizingly slowly and June was looking forward to a weekend of sleep and healing. Her feet still needed to rest, and occasional twinges of pain bothered her whenever she was moving about vigorously. They had bled again – though not badly – on Wednesday, and they needed the rest as much as June’s mind and soul did. The possibility of a ruck march pressed on her in the back of her mind, and there was a fifty percent chance Easy would be forced on one that day. She ignored the thought – she’d deal with it when it happened.

June had something to do that night, uniquely enough. After coming back from dinner, having pushed her food around on her plate anxiously for the third or fourth time that week, she hurried to brush her teeth and get her things in order just in case Sobel decided to bust inside at any time.

June picked up Webster’s copy of The Sun Also Rises. She’d been meaning to return it days ago, but June hadn’t had the energy nor the motivation to get it to him. She was not looking forward to knocking on the door of another billet. Other men would see her, and it would be awkward for both of them.

This early on Friday night, there were probably less people hovering around the billets. June tucked the book under her arm and left her bed, heading towards the door. Some of the men who were draped around the billet gave her curious glances seeing the book she had. She adjusted her grip, stepped down from the billet, and went in search of the third Fox Company billet, a little ways down from the Easy section.

June found the billet much more swiftly than she would have liked to. It hadn’t even been more than two minutes by the time she stood in front of a door that looked like all the rest. She checked the ID on the building for the third time. It was correct. Webster was housed inside this one.

She stood outside, becoming overly conscious of how her lingering could be interpreted. She told herself to get over it, and get the task of returning the book done quickly before more people saw her hovering outside a foreign billet, and she mounted the steps, hesitating before deciding to knock instead of opening the door without warning. She experienced a brief moment of irrational panic, imagining she’d copied down the wrong billet number or that she had misread the ID, before someone came to the door and cracked it open.

The face that appeared was confused for a second, and his expression melted into a suggestive grin that June was beginning to find commonplace.

“Is Webster here?” June asked, her face heating. She already felt like she’d done something wrong – something that would put both her and Webster in the attention of the other men of Toccoa. She didn’t want it to look like anything was happening.

“You bet he is, babe,” said the guy blocking June’s view inside the billet. He closed the door just enough so he could stand in the doorway, barring anyone from entering or exiting. “Whatcha need him for?” he said, still smiling wolfishly in the way June disliked. It made her uneasy, and he was eyeing her up and down like she was a girl up for grabs in town.

June pulled the book out, holding it in front of her. She stared at the man flatly without any expression, trying to communicate her disinterest without making a scene. “This is his. I’m giving it back,” she said curtly, narrowing her eyes. Internally, she felt like screaming out of sheer discomfort. On second consideration, maybe this whole operation wasn’t the best idea. She heard muted crunches in the dirt behind her, and she wondered if people were watching, or if her audial acuity had simply grown better as a result of constant paranoia. Probably a little bit of both.

A hand slid between the door and the blond man, and Webster appeared behind the man, pulling the door open wide.

“Relax, Smithson,” said Webster nonchalantly, looking at the one blocking the door, and the man stepped away with his hands up in mock surrender.

“Have fun, Web,” Smithson said mockingly. He laughed, casting another appraising glance over June through the gap in the door. “Save a piece for me.”

June stared after Smithson with affront, her mouth opening slightly as she registered the implication. Webster looked only slightly perturbed, sparing a brief glance at the man but saying nothing. He returned his gaze to June, and she handed him the book, still reeling from the statement. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before, of course, because rude men were a dime a dozen at Toccoa – but this was the first time someone had actively insinuated that she was involved with someone to her face. Webster standing a few feet away made it worse.

“Thanks for the book,” she muttered darkly, not meeting his eyes. She was already turning away to go back to the billet. It was all a bad idea. Maybe she’d be able to sleep away the memory of this entire five-minute exchange.

“Wait,” said Webster suddenly. “Did you want another one? For the weekend?”

June turned around, mildly surprised that he didn’t want her gone immediately.

“I didn’t mean to assume you don’t go off-base,” said Webster haltingly. “I mean, if you want another book you can have one. I have lots…” he trailed off, running out of things to say.

“Whatcha got?” asked June, not smiling but her expression softening slightly. The attraction of books was irresistible.

“Uh, more Hemingway,” he said, rattling off author names. “Fitzgerald,” he said. “Uh, Orwell? His name is George Orwell. His books are kind of weird,” he said, making a face.

“Which Hemingway books?” asked June, intrigued.

“A Farewell to Arms, For Whom the Bell Tolls,” he said. “Oh, also, uh, the short stories. It’s called Men Without Women,” he said awkwardly, with a few huffs of self-deprecating laughter – the type of laughter June knew very well. It was self-conscious, she recognized. “I don’t know why it’s named that,” he concluded.

“Are you sure you want to just lend out your books?” said June, looking past him into a billet that looked relatively identical to June’s, except every cot was filled and it was a tad more messy.

“Oh,” he laughed, sounding somewhat forced and abrupt. “It’s fine. I’ve read all of them.” He smiled, albeit maybe halfway.

“I’ll take the short stories, then,” said June, finally yielding to some expression that wasn’t an explicit frown. “Nice to see some people around here actually read literature,” she said. Webster laughed, for real this time, and went down the billet to get a book from his footlocker. He returned and handed it to June wordlessly.

“Thank you,” said June. She put force behind the words. Webster was the first man to be remotely kind to her. “No one in Easy Company seems to want to lend me anything,” she said without thinking, and then she regretted it as Webster’s casual smile wavered. She’d broken the careful balance that was hanging in the air prior, and June could almost feel the shards of normalcy falling at their feet.

“No problem,” he said, with that expression she’d seen before – torn between pity and detachment or something, like he was suddenly reminded that she was a woman in a military camp that he probably should not be talking to.

June knew the look. She didn’t know what she’d expected: someone like Coates to just exist and be nice to her? It was too good to be true, and June wanted to hit herself for having hope in Webster. It wasn’t his responsibility. He didn’t owe her anything at all. She nodded, looking down, not bothering with a proper goodbye if they weren’t going to actually get to know each other. It was probably better that way – not to forge a contrived sense of friendliness without any substantive feeling.

June turned around and left the billet, walking down the rows to the Easy Company area. She was foolish for thinking someone would just lend her books like that. What was he thinking? What was she thinking? Did he want something back from her? Attention? Was he just another one of the guys, trying to get her in his bed but being devious about it? June groaned and kicked at the road. She was being stupid. She’d finish the book, return it, and stop talking to him.

As she approached her assigned billet, she looked down at the book in her hands and knew she wasn’t looking forward to re-entering the building with all eyes always following her and loud talking in the background. June decided to go somewhere else. She checked her watch: it was around 2000, and she had two hours to burn. She quickly deposited the book in her footlocker because it was too dark out to read, not sparing a glance to take stock of who was in the billet, and she darted out just as quickly.

June took an unexpected turn and ended up looking out over the practice field. The track called, but she knew her feet weren’t ready. The camp was already darkened, and lay tucked under a blanket of stars. June walked out with hands in her pockets, eyes on the rising moon. The sky was clear and the air was still warm, and she walked all the way across the empty field, feeling the bluish night-tinted grass under her boots and the shift of breeze that tangled out from inside the forest. June found herself right at the edge of it a few moments later, staring into the dark, tall mass of trees and leaves.

June grew up in an urbanized area. Forests had always interested her, perhaps because of the novelty of never getting to see them. She knew that many of the boys at Toccoa had probably grown up around forests – maybe in them, hunting and shooting and playing Cowboys and Indians. Sometimes June felt rather foolish by being amused by the concept of wildlife growing in one local proximity. She supposed this was the natural state of things, the forest; San Francisco had been host to wild things too before people had mowed it over with cement and civilization. It was the order of the land before Manifest Destiny and the port men arrived hand in hand.

She sat down against a tree, facing the clearing and the camp, spread out before her. Each billet was like a lantern: glowing transparently from within, the thin wooden walls and tarps creating a papery lamplike effect, with the yellow light pushing through the corners. She couldn’t see as far as HQ or the offices from her slightly elevated place against the trees, but she could make out the lay of the land by the placement of the lights all around camp.

It was nice and quiet away from all the men. The sound of cicadas rose and fell in a rhythmic wave around June, and the static background noise wove into the drumbeat of her heart. Rare relaxation leaked into June’s veins, bringing with it the smell of earth and dew and the universe. Time almost seemed to stop in this pocket of the world where June was alone with the lady bugs and mosquitoes. She leaned heavily against the tree and leaned back, and closed her eyes.

♤

June didn’t mean to fall asleep, but she awoke with a start against the tree. She looked out at camp and about half the billets had gone dark. It was almost time for lights-out. If Sobel conducted a bed check, she was doomed. June leapt up, dusted off the backside of her ODs, and took off running across the field, feeling oddly exposed even though no one could have seen her in the dark.

When June came back into the range of the light of a nearby billet, she checked her watch. It was 2207. An icy slide of panic overtook her, and she sprinted towards her billet, fearing the worst and trying to concoct an excuse in her head. There were none, really, and she felt at a loss as she dashed through rows and rows until she reached her company section. Sobel was nowhere to be seen, or at least he wasn’t stalking between billets. June hoped he didn’t happen to be inside hers at that very moment, and she crunched quietly towards her billet.

A few stray men were still returning to their billets. June hoped she looked just like another one of the casual stragglers.

She heard a shift in the dirt.

She froze against the side of one of the farthest Easy Company billets, hoping to stay silent. If it was Sobel, her stint in the military was finished. She would be sent out the next day, or maybe even now.

June told herself she was being ridiculous, and she took a few deep breaths to try and calm the haywire flutter of her pulse.

The steps in the gritty sand were irregular, unlike Sobel’s heavy rhythmic gait. June listened closely. The footsteps staggered, as if the person was listing side to side. There was a fair bit of heavy breathing coming from his hidden position between billets. June sighed. It was most likely a drinking soldier, making his way back to his barracks before an officer could catch him.

June intended to walk past as quickly as possible, and maybe the drunk soldier wouldn’t see her, and she’d pass by without comment. She took a deeper breath, and stepped back out into the open, making as little noise as possible. Her ODs swished, the rougher fabric creating friction. Her boots still crunched in the dirt, and she hastened her pace.

Even though June had a general idea of where the soldier was lingering, he took her by surprise, intercepting her path. He clearly was making a beeline towards June, and she couldn’t outrun him in the time it took for him to step out of the shadows.

“Hey, girl,” said the guy, looking not too light on his feet. June could tell from a few feet away that he was definitely inebriated. He dragged a hand across the wall of a billet, and June cringed at the loudness of the brushing against the tarp. “I was waitin’ for ya.”

June looked around, trying to get past the guy, but something struck her as familiar. Light hit his face and June’s stomach dropped. It was Smithson, the one from Fox. She took another step back, because he was coming for her fast.

June sidestepped as he was almost on her, and she tried to swing far around him and walk to the other side. He was drunk and, from what she could tell, out of his mind. He must have been very, very drunk, June noticed, because he lurched a few times. Just as she was almost past, Smithson’s hand shot out and clasped a vice-like grip around June’s arm.

“Why you runnin’?” he said, leaning closer. June tried to tear her arm out of his hand, the combined shuffling of both of their boots in the sand the only noise in the air. Her heart was beating fast, and she leaned away from Smithson’s face, trying to pry his grip off her sleeve with her other hand. His fingers held on tight, and he started to tighten his grip even more. June let out an involuntary hiss of anxiety.

“Let go of me,” she whispered, starting to breathe faster. She dug her feet into the sand as Smithson tried to tug her somewhere else. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“You don’t wanna have some fun?” said Smithson, words bleeding into each other, ignoring June’s protests. “I know you wanna, June.”

For some reason, the way he said her first name was jarringly terrifying. June was pulling at her arm desperately now, trying to get away. Smithson stood like an anchor, resolutely tugging her in the opposite direction of her billet, which was only a few feet away. Smithson was drunk and swaying, but somehow June still could not overpower him. He had more than a few inches on her and probably thirty or so pounds.

“Stop,” she whispered frantically. “Get off me,” she said, her voice rising in a tone of panic. Now, she wasn’t sure if she liked the darkness so much anymore. It obscured Smithson’s face, casting it heavily in shadow, and his eyes shined from beneath a veil of black.

Smithson had a humorless half-smile on his face. “Come on,” he said. “Stop strugglin’.”

June pulled violently at her arm, trying to peel his fingers off her arm. Smithson got wise and smacked her other hand away, and grabbed her other shoulder painfully. June bit back a cry of surprise, and tried to duck out from under his grip. Smithson held on and his fingers pressed into her skin. June felt herself weakening. The week had taken its toll. She was in no state to fight.

She tried to push him off, but it was no use. Smithson held on tight and leaned closer. In a moment of clarity, June hooked a leg behind Smithson and jammed it against the back of his knee. With a huff of surprise, Smithson went down and took June down with him, both hitting the ground hard. June groaned, because she’d landed on her right side with nothing to shield her fall. Smithson had let go of her momentarily in surprise. June rolled over and got on her hands and knees, crawling away from Smithson.

“Come here,” ground out Smithson dangerously, and he clasped a hand around her ankle, pulling her back. June’s hands scrabbled in the dirt, but she felt Smithson rise up behind her. She jerked her ankle away, but Smithson pulled back, and she landed in the dirt again, flat on her back. She was breathing hard, body tensed. She forgot her soreness as her body primed for a fight, fear filling the corners of her imagination.

She would not let the last of her memory at the camp be that of a whisper and a rumor of assault. She would not let Smithson take what he wanted. She would fight with her dying breath if it meant she won.

In the back of her mind, she was aware that they were making noise, thrashing about in the sand. Smithson wasn’t whispering anymore, and June wasn’t either, kicking out at Smithson and somehow landing a hit in the dark as he would not let go of her leg.

“Let go,” June growled loudly. “Get off!”

Smithson grabbed at her other leg. “Be quiet, bitch,” he hissed, and June landed another weak glancing kick, probably to his shoulder. Involuntary tears of panic were gathering in the corners of her eyes, and she made another push to get free of Smithson.

He grabbed farther up on her thigh, and a new wave of panic rushed over June. She rolled over onto her back, giving up on jerking her leg out of Smithson’s grip, and she ignored her aching muscles, sitting up and throwing a blind punch out into the direction of his head. She missed, and Smithson yelled something vicious. Now she was on her back, and Smithson took advantage, pinning her down by the shoulders and hovering over her.

June approached a precipice of fear and terror. There was no telling if she’d get away now. Smithson was grabbing at her ODs, and had his knees over June’s legs. She tried to get them up and slide out from under, but there was nowhere to go, and Smithson leaned close enough that June could smell his hot breath, sour with alcohol. She turned her face to the side.

“Stop moving,” slurred Smithson, pawing at the buttons of her ODs. A moment later, with almost debilitating shock, she felt his hands pulling at the buckle of her belt, uncoordinated and heavy.

Caught between blind panic and alarm, June somehow gathered the strength to wrench her right leg free from Smithson’s weight. Before he could jab his knee back into her thigh, she surged upwards, hitting him between the legs.

“Shit,” Smithson spat, weakening momentarily, and June scrambled out from under him, finally free from his hands. June watched him for another second warily, and Smithson launched himself back at her. June reeled back, took one breath, and caught Smithson in the side of the face with a lucky punch. Her fist exploded into pain, and June watched Smithson rub at his cheek, shocked.

June scuttled away, out of reach of Smithson, but he recovered fast from the punch, and despite his impaired reflexes, he moved fast, landing a solid punch to June’s temple. She saw stars and couldn’t move for a few seconds – pain bloomed across her skull and she felt like something broke in her head. The pressure of Smithson’s hit lingered like a phantom pain weighing on her skull. Smithson seemed satisfied, and he resumed getting at her shirt. June felt fingers tugging at the collar of her PT shirt, and his other slid under the hem, brushing up against the bottom of her ribs, and she was filled with one last burst of desperate, savage adrenaline. She threw everything she had into one last punch to Smithson’s throat, and she felt the flesh around his neck under the weight of her fist. Her own knuckles already started to ache, and she scooted back on one arm as Smithson’s hands went to his throat with a muffled scream.

June watched Smithson with some sort of traumatized immobile shock. His hands wrapped around his throat as he heaved shivery breaths in and out, and June thought for a moment, foolishly, that she might have killed him with a little more power. Then she shook herself, scrabbling backwards with more fear falling deep into her bones, body still running high on fight-or flight.

The fighting was over. It was time to run.

Everyone around had probably heard them scuffling. June hoped no one was going to come out of their billets to investigate. June could now be thrown out of Toccoa for fighting. She looked at Smithson in terror, now crouched almost pathetically in the dirt, facedown and half braced on splayed elbows. He’d complain to his NCO, who would tell the officers, who would report it to someone in HQ – or worse, Sink directly. June would be deemed a nuisance who posed a danger to the other soldiers, and she’d be reprimanded and demanded to leave camp the same night.

Smithson would be able to bend the story to his own interests. Everyone would believe him over her. Besides, she’d wanted it, they’d say: a lone woman joining the Army to go and try and sleep in the same rooms as all the other men was bound to try this kind of thing eventually. There was no way she didn’t enjoy at least a part of the attention.

June knew the shame that came from being harassed, like it was her fault for being tossed around into submission. If June hadn’t stayed out alone after nightfall, or if she hadn’t lingered at Webster’s door for as long as she did, she might not have attracted the attention of Smithson.

She looked back at him warily, anticipating that he’d surge back up and make another grab at her, maybe this time get a hand under her bra or into her pants. Smithson was still kneeling and panting heavily, holding his throat.

June got up and staggered away, not knowing why she’d even stayed to watch her assaulter scratch about on the ground in the first place. Maybe a sick sense of satisfaction, or maybe it was just a dissociative shock. She left Smithson behind, heaving in the dust. She’d done it – she’d gotten him off her, all by herself. It was a horrible kind of fulfillment: the reason why she’d fought him on her own was only because no one was nearby to help.

James would be proud, June realized in a moment of ironic thoughtfulness.

Boots on the ground filtered through the buzz of the static of night, and she turned around, realizing she was standing in the distance between billet rows. She was out of the narrow shadows between the houses and in the open air of the main road that carved down camp, with billet doors lining the path.

June was hyper-aware of the sound. Wind whistled through the camp, fluttering tarps and through leaves.

She thought it was Smithson, at first, and she took a few steps back, going to find her billet again and throw herself inside, hoping that Smithson wouldn’t dare come after her when she was inside with other men. He stepped into the light, and it wasn’t Smithson, but June hated the way she flinched backwards reflexively, her head pounding with blood once more.

The man’s face was cast in shadow. He was taller and slimmer than Smithson. June didn’t move, because she could see that he was an officer from his uniform. The pinprick glow of a lit cigarette shone against his mouth. She was dead this time: truly dead. Whether this man wanted to assault her or throw her in the brig or take her directly to Sink, June had no more energy left to do anything more.

He moved closer, stepping casually down the rows, and June heard Smithson groan. She cringed at the sound, though resigned to whatever fate awaited her in this cursed hour of crisis, and the officer cast a glance into the shadows between her billet and the next one. She knew Smithson was lying in that gap, and the officer had seen him.

“That bitch,” came a muffled mutter from Smithson, who coughed. “She came outta nowhere and jumped me,” he said.

June saw the officer lean into the shadows. She didn’t know what passed between Smithson and the officer, but the man leaned back into the light after a few moments, and started walking towards June.

A gust of wind picked up again, and June realized her shirt was torn open and her PT shirt was on display. She hastily buttoned up the OD jacket with trembling fingers, and she started to redo her belt, the metal clinking loudly as she tried to grab the buckle and force the tail of the webbing back in. It took her a few tries, and by the time she got herself dressed again, the officer was in front of her.

June stood at attention with all the energy she could spend, fear now washing through her: fear at her fate, fear of the officer, and fear of Smithson, who was lying still somewhere in the gravel.

The officer heaved a sigh.

“Let’s get you back to your billet,” said the officer finally around the cigarette, looking down at June and letting smoke curl from the corner of his mouth. She finally saw his eyes, which somehow gathered darkness around them. His face was still unclear, but June was sure she hadn’t seen him before. He was from another company, maybe: from another side of Toccoa.

The statement registered to June. She wasn’t being taken to the brig, and she stumbled along in shock towards her billet while the officer trailed behind, both of them leaving Smithson behind.

June cleared her throat quietly and rubbed at her face, which was starting to throb. Her cheekbone hurt something awful, and when June toughed the area, it was worse. She dropped her hand.

“Permission to speak, sir,” said June, hating the shakiness in her voice.

“Granted,” said the officer almost immediately, taking a relaxed drag.

“Private Smithson, he, uh…” said June, struggling to come up with the words. “He’s injured,” she said lamely, brushing at her arm unconsciously where Smithson had grabbed her first.

“Don’t worry about him,” said the officer simply, and the pair was again in silence until June reached the door of her billet.

“Sir–” started June, stepping away from him in discomfort, somewhat unconsciously. “What…” she trailed off. “What’s gonna–”

“Private,” said the officer, cutting her off. “It was self-defense.”

June stared at him in shock. The officer offered no reaction, standing expressionless.

“No one needs to know, sir,” said June, out on a limb. It was risky to say, almost disrespectful. She was desperate though, and willing to walk the line between indignance and impropriety.

It didn’t matter how nice she said it if she was going to be thrown out the next day.

The officer tilted his head, cigarette glowing as he took it into his hand. “Do they?” he said, and ice ran cold in June’s bones. Panic once again slipped over her like an old, familiar presence. It was what she’d felt, after all, every day of the week on-base.

The officer’s lips curved upwards briefly, and June was struck by the oddity of the situation. She tried to shake the strangely exposed feeling that he was laughing at her, but she took another step back, feeling a wave of caution at his sudden display of unpredictability.

The smile dropped from his face entirely in one terrifying second, and June backed away. But the officer was already walking away from her. He stopped and dropped the finished cigarette onto the ground, and twisted his boot about into the ashes. He turned around for one second, just enough for June to see his mouth move.

“Goodbye, Private,” he said briefly before slipping back into the shadows where he merged with the pressing night. June was left staring into the dark at the spot he once inhabited; the only hint to his presence ever having been real a moment before was the still-flickering glow of the cigarette dying on the ground.

June didn’t feel as if she was at a loss for breath; her head pounded. She rubbed absently at the twinge on her cheek, thinking about him. Forget Smithson, she told herself, opening the billet door as quietly as possible. She was dead on her feet, tired beyond measure. The billet door creaked, but she shut it without energy, barely managing to guide it closed without losing all energy in her arm once she was within the bounds of wood and out of reach of the starlight and reaching fingers.

If June had felt more energetic, perhaps normal, she’d have sat down and cried in that very spot right inside the billet. But she wasn’t feeling that way – instead, she stood silently in front of the door, very much awake and drained and battered. She made her way to her cot and took off her ODs without seeing in the darkness – a small comfort that she could not see the state of her own knuckles, which were probably reddening and swelling already.

After she was in bed, staring up at the blackness of the lightless ceiling, June wondered if the men beside her were asleep. The billet seemed more devoid of snoring than usual, and she sat up suddenly, somehow summoning the energy to wonder if some men weren’t even in their beds. The silence was unusual.

Then, June felt the floorboards creaking and someone walking about the room. She’d had enough surprises for one night, and so she let them approach her, hoping with all her heart it would be nothing more than a scare tactic or a grope that she could hit away with her rifle. Her hand snaked out from under the sheets, touching the cool wood of her M-1 Garand.

The flick of a lighter near her face startled June, and she gasped when the glow of light illuminated two faces: Skip and Penkala, leaning closer than June preferred. She gasped and almost fell out of her bed, kicking up her sheets to jerk back and hitting the back of her head against the billet. She curled away from them, terrified, breathing hard as she pulled her legs up to her chest and stared at the two of them. A third, Malarkey, joined the duo, and he flicked on his lighter, casting it closer to June’s face until she could feel the heat.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice scratchy and quivering. She eyed the flame, swallowing in her half-delirious state of fear.

If they were going to burn her, they should do it quickly and let her sleep.

“Shit, June. You fight?” said Skip, and she realized all three were looking at her cheekbone. She touched it absently and felt a sting at the contact, reminded that Smithson had socked her square in the side of the face. If it was already red, that was unfortunate.

June didn’t do anything except look back at the three of them with bewildered fear.

Malarkey sighed and extinguished his lighter. “Who did that?” he whispered.

June looked down. “You don’t need to know,” she whispered. If they sought Smithson out, he’d just tell them that June had started it.

“Was it an Easy guy?” pressed Penkala. June didn’t see anything of his face except for the corner of his temple and one eye that was looking at her. The flame of the lighter danced in the shine of his iris.

June didn’t answer. She just looked back at them with open anticipation. Her fists were clenched in her lap and her jaw was fixed. She gave a slight shake of the head to the negative.

Finally, Skip leaned back and sighed, and June could make out the vague outline of his hand running through his hair.

“Leave her alone and go to sleep,” hissed a voice from the front corner of the room – Perconte, maybe.

“We’re going, Perco,” hissed Malarkey and Skip together, and all three disappeared into the shadows, the last lighter flicking closed.

June stayed curled up in the corner, for an hour or three, maybe, jumping at any random noise. She eventually fell asleep in the position, bunched against the wall, sheets pulled up to her chest.

There was no march that Friday. Rumor went around that Sobel had forgotten to wake up that midnight.

In the morning, some of the men looked at June for longer than necessary as they got into their uniforms and went out for the weekend. Most of the men stayed in because almost the entire platoon had their passes revoked at one time or another.

When June awoke, she yawned and looked around the billet with something beyond a casual stare. Her gaze was loaded with a deeper need to take in every aspect of her surroundings – every corner, staking stock of every person, every bed – and Lipton didn’t miss it. She turned her head, and there was a large bruise blanketing the left side of her face.

Even Liebgott, usually ready with something snarky to say in the slow wake-up of the morning light, fell silent. The men who left went quickly, but the ones who stayed that Saturday either avoided looking at June or stared. June was uncomfortable, but that was nothing new. She slept through breakfast and laid in her bed until almost noon, unable to summon the energy to face the world again.

.

I'm back!

However, this is a heavy chapter. I'm sorry if it wasn't what you were looking forward to.

I grappled with the material a lot and went through multiple rounds of edits and beta-reading before publishing. I went back and forth on even publishing this chapter, and I had to take a lot of time to consider the repercussions of trauma. As the series progresses, I have done my best to integrate this experience into June's character. I assure you, this is not a throwaway plot point. I am not one to inflict a huge amount of emotional and physical distress on anyone without weighing the impact as realistically I can. Any failure of mine to be realistic and patient with June's suffering reflects on my own shortcomings as a writer and as a person with empathy. My hope is to convey the spirit of humanity in my writing, even if this is just a little dumb fanfic; it necessitates the portrayal of the highs of life but also the rock-bottom of injustice and pain.

I hope never to reduce the suffering of real-life victims of sexual assault. For anyone who has gone through this unimaginable suffering, I extend my deepest sympathy and regret.

Thank you for being patient with me :)

[a65232-joshywoshy]

Colorado Crybaby

Chapter 8

     The alarm on Penny’s phone rang.

      Penny woke up and looked over at Rachael, who was sleeping with her mouth open. Penny thought she looked adorable.

     "Rachael," Penny gently rocked Rachael. "It's time to wake up."

     "Wuh way uh." Was all that came out of Rachael's mouth. She rolled over.

     "What?" Penny, grinned. The adorableness had increased.

     "Doh wanna way uh."

     "You said you wanted to go see the club, right?"

     Rachael just moaned in response.

     "Come on, sweetheart. Nap time is over. Let's wake up so we can go have fun."

     "Cub uh be fun."

     "Yes. The club will be fun. You have to wake up though, your royal crinkliness."

     The reminder that Rachael was diapered helped her wake up a lot faster, and the more awake she was, the more embarrassed she got. Once again, she was in a vulnerable position in front of her friend. Her… girlfriend? That's how she felt about Penny, but was it official yet?

     "Kay. I waking up."

     "My cute little baby-talking babygirl."

     Rachael continued to blush.

     Penny got up and changed in the other room. She left the diaper on, but put on a short black dress.

     "You still want to wear shorts and a tanktop? It may be cold inside the club." Penny knew that Rachael would get cold, so she got herself a sweater; one that would ultimately go on Rachael.

     "Yeah.” Rachael yawned. “I wear this. I’ll… wear this. Dumb babytalking.”

     The two finished getting ready, with Rachael sleepily following behind. Waking up from a midday nap always took Rachael a while to do. They got all their things together, including the box of diapers and took everything back down to the car. 

     As they drove to the club, Rachael finally finished waking up.

     “How did we get so close so fast? Like, we just slept together. I mean, not like that, but, you know.”

     “Well,” Penny was enjoying the conversation as they left the apartment and drove to the club. “We’ve known each other for 5 years now.”

     “Yeah.”

     “And there’s been plenty of times where we hung out. Sometimes where we weren’t at work, even. Even the company picnic 2 years ago didn’t really feel like we were at work. We’ve been to the mall a lot. We’ve talked A LOT. Texts. Phone calls.”

     “So I guess,” Rachael sat and thought about their relationship a second. “This is really the first time we’ve been this physically close. And since we already have the emotional connection...”

     “Yeah.”

     “And you’ve rescued me at work, and rescued me during our time off. I guess you’re practically my big sister.”

     “Ooh.” Penny smiled. “You could be my BABY sister!”

     “I’m not a baby.” Rachael smiled, slightly reveling in the title.

     “I know. You’re a grown, consenting adult that wants to ACT like a baby. Therefore, you’re now my baby sister. It’s official.” 

     “Is this it?” Rachael looked disappointed.

     They had arrived at the club and the scene was not what Rachael was expecting. Standing before them was a run-down building, formerly the anchor store in a retail strip mall. The building paint was peeling in some places and a board covered one of the windows in the front.

     “She’s not much to look at, but this is our haven.” 

     Penny parked the car and quickly texted someone again. She got out and went to get the box out of the back of her car. Rachael got out and followed Penny inside. 

     As they walked through the front doors, they were greeted by a burly latino man wearing a very flattering suit and tie. 

     “Buenos tardes, Pablo.”

     The man smiled after recognizing Penny.

     “Buenos tardes, Señora. Como esta ustedes?"

     "Bien, y ustedes?"

     "Muy bien, gracias. Quien es tu amiga?”

     “Mi amiga se llama Rachael. Trabajamos juntos.”

      “Bien, muy bien. Necesito ID, por favor, y la firma aqui.”

     Penny started to get out her ID and signed the form. Rachael didn’t understand the conversation, but did the same. The form seemed to be a release form, protecting the club from any liability.

     “Gracias, señoras. Que la pases bien!”

     "Gracias, Pablo!"

     The two walked out of the small entry area and into the main room. The lighting cast a blue hue over everything inside. Tables for 2 to 4 people were arranged in a grid in front of a stage. There was a stripper pole on the otherwise empty stage. A bartender was behind the counter opposite the stage and a few couples were sitting at tables around the room, enjoying each other's company. The air smelled wonderful. Most of the candles on the tables were strawberry or coconut scented, while the smell of snacks drifted from behind the bar. A DJ booth towards the side of the room played popular music at a volume low enough for casual conversation. Penny took a big breath of air and let it out slowly.

     “See, Rachael? I love this place.”

     It took Rachael several seconds to realize, but the clothing some of the couples wore was not normal attire for a club. A man at one table was wearing a onesie, while a woman across the room wore a T-shirt and diaper. As Rachael studied the room, she saw a wooden train set on a small table in the corner of the room. The opposite corner had a large pile of blocks next to a teddybear that looked quite large.

     “Whoa.” Rachael kept taking in the sights as Penny walked towards a table to sit down. Rachael sat down across from her. “This place IS great!”

     “Here she is.” Penny looked behind Rachael at someone walking up. 

     A tall woman strode up to their table. She was wearing a knee length khaki skirt with a white button down shirt. Her long black hair swayed as she walked. The woman's posture and stance seemed to command respect.

     “V!” Penny got up and hugged the woman.

     “Niña!” Veronica hugged Penny back. She was much taller than Penny. Penny’s head stopped at the bottom of Veronica’s chin. Rachael felt dwarfed by the seemingly Amazonian woman.

     “This is my friend Rachael from work, V.” Penny was excited to introduce the two.

     “Hi.” Rachael shook Veronica’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Rachael felt like this tall woman could easily lift her off the ground and put her on her hip like a child.

     “I got the stuff you wanted, V.” Penny showed the box to V.

     “Good. Gracias, Niña. I appreciate that. Can you stop calling me “V”, now? My name is Veronica. Though, you should refer to me as Mami, if you know what's good for you.” Veronica looked sternly at Penny as they sat down at the table. Penny looked down at the table, hands crossed in her lap. A faint hint of blushing could be seen on her cheeks, even in the dim blue lighting.

     “Not in front of my friend,” Penny said meekly, mumbling something else under her breath. She was beginning to look very embarrassed.

     “I didn’t hear you, Niña. Digame.” Veronica continued to look sternly at Penny’s face, though Penny refused to meet her gaze.

     “Mami.”

     “Yes, my name is ‘Mami’ to you. Thank you, Niña. You’ve never been allowed to call me ‘V’. I don’t know what possessed you to call me that now.” 

     Veronica turned to look at Rachael. 

     “So you’re Penny’s friend from work? That’s nice. She’s told me all about you. You’re an account coordinator for Imagine Innovations and you used to live in California, correct?"

     “Yes, Ms. Veronica. We’ve been friends for a long time now. We help each other at work and we hang out from time to time. Penny and I will get to hang out a lot more often now, since I moved here."

     "That's good. Penny needs good people to keep a close eye on her."

     Veronica turned back to Penny, who still refused to look Veronica in the eyes. 

     “Your friend Rachael is very polite, Niña, unlike you. I’m not even her mami and she knows to be respectful to me.”

     “Thank you, Miss Veronica. One question, though,” Rachael got a little excited when she heard ‘her mami’. “Are you Penny’s mother? You look so young...”

     “Not her madre" Veronica laughed. "Do you know what MD/lg is, Rachael? Penny is my little tiny baby girl. That's why I call her Niña. Baby girl in spanish. We have a relationship where she is my pretend daughter. Like a god-daughter, but we're close in age.”

     “Mami!” Penny was getting more embarrassed.

     “That’s great." Rachael said. "I'm familiar with that. I’m so glad you two have a good relationship like that. It’s funny, though. Penny didn’t talk about your relationship like that.” Rachael wanted to clarify the details, since what Penny had said earlier didn’t match up.

     “Oh?” Veronica was curious.

     “Penny told me that you were an old friend and that box was for...”

     “Rachael, no!” Penny started to panic.

     "Penny De LaCruz. You insult me with a single letter for my name, then interrupt your friend? Necesito conseguir la chonkla?"

      Rachael hesitated, but Veronica pointed a finger at Penny and urged Rachael to continue.

     “She said they were for an old friend. She wouldn't tell me what was in the box, either, Miss Veronica.”

     Veronica seemed aghast. “An OLD friend? Is that what I am to you, Niña? Old?! And you told her that box was FOR ME?! Penny Rosita Elena De LaCruz! How DARE you, Mija. I don't wear pañales like you."

     “No! Mami! It was a mistake! Lo siento, Mami!” Penny looked Veronica in the eyes with abject horror.

     “I’m sorry. I just wanted to...” Rachael was taken aback by what she caused.

     “No, Rachael. You didn’t do anything wrong. Mija and I had a deal that she would refer to me as Mami to her close friends. It was also understood that we would both be respectful to each other. “V” and this failure to mention who those diapers belonged to are big "no no’s" for us. This is our dynamic. Penny is my pequita niña and I am her Mami, to be addressed as such when with appropriate company. So…"

     Veronica glared at Penny. 

     "Niña.”

     Penny cringed at her name. She knew she was in trouble.

     “Si, Mami?” Penny said quietly.

     “Explain to Rachael what this box is and who is it for.”

     “Please, Mami." Penny begged then pouted. "I don’t want to.”

     “Okay. We’ll add 25 swats for this behavior, then.”

     “No, no, no, no. PLEASE, Mami!”

     “Tell your friend, Niña.”

     Penny huffed and squirmed, physically uncomfortable from having to admit to her friend that she was a baby. “Rachael, those diapers are for me.” Penny didn't look Rachael in the eye. She was too embarrassed. Rachael smiled.

     “And why did you bring them here today, Niña?” Veronica changed her expression. She looked proud of Penny now.

     “Because the diapers need to be inspected by Mami, so she knows what I’m going to wear this weekend.”

     “Muy bien, Mija." Veronica patted Penny's head. Penny retained her fussy pout. "See, Rachael? We have fun. We’ve been friends since college. Some college experimenting lead us to find out that Penny loves to be put in her little space. Penny is the kind of girl who WANTS to be babied, but has to be forced into it. It’s all for fun, of course. We have a good, consenting relationship and we know each other’s limits and safe words. We never cross our hard limits. That's disrespectful. We just have fun together.”

     “Wow.” Rachael was in awe of this woman. “You sound like an amazing mommy!”

     “Gracias, señorita. Are you a little?”

     “Yes, ma’am.” Rachael got a little embarrassed, confessing her deep dark secret to someone she had only just met.

     “Did Penny already try to act like your mami?” Veronica chuckled.

    ��“Kind of, yes.” Rachael smiled. "It was lots of fun, though."

     “Silly Penny. She thinks she knows how to be a good mami. When I come back into town next week, do you want me to babysit the two of you together? I'm already babysitting Penny.” Veronica’s smile was very calming to Rachael. It was almost hypnotizing.

     “I’ve never been babysat before. That'd be fun.” Rachael loved the idea. But what would that entail? What would that mean for her and Penny’s relationship? Would things get weird?

     “Well, Niña can tell you all about what we do while I’m gone. I’m sure we’ll have a good time.”

     “Sounds great, Miss Veronica.” Rachael smiled.

     "Then next weekend we'll do that, chicas. Penny?" Veronica glared at Penny, who was looking away from them, with a pouty look on her face still.

     "Si, Mami?"

     "Rachael will be watching your behavior until next weekend. We're trading phone numbers right now, and if you misbehave, she will let me know. I'm also texting her our rules…"

     "Mami! No!”

     "Cincuenta ahora, Niña. I'm texting her our rules, so she can know what behavior I expect from you. Esta bien?"

     Penny huffed "Si, Mami.", knowing that any backtalk would add to her quickly rising pile of trouble. 

     "Muy bien." Veronica looked satisfied with her work.

      Veronica and Rachael exchanged phone numbers, and the rules list was sent in the process.

      "Ven." Veronica looked back at Penny and pointed at the floor next to her. Penny was still pouting but didn't dare disobey again. She knelt beside Veronica and looked up at her.

      "I love you, Mija." Veronica put her large hands on Penny's cheeks. "Te quiero muchísimo. I know your behavior can get the best of you sometimes. That's why we're working on this together, verdad?"

     "Si, Mami."

     "Very good." Veronica stood up to get ready to go. For a moment, she was twice Penny's height. Penny looked tiny beneath her. "Give Mami a hug, Niña."

    Penny stood up and hugged Veronica tightly around the waist, like a child would hug their favorite adult. "I love you, Mami."

     "I love you too, Mija." Veronica kissed Penny on the head, then turned to Rachael. "It was very nice to meet you, Rachael. I'm sure you'll help Penny be very well behaved."

     "Yes, ma'am." They shook hands as Rachael beamed at getting praise from a mommy figure.

     "I have other things to tend to. Have a good night, chicas!" With that, Veronica strode out of the club, leaving Penny's box of diapers with her.

     "Man, I'm in trouble." Penny sat down and gently bumped her head against the box. 

[space-blue]

The Dreamcaster

Bit of a filthy love letter to Inception.

I saw the trap the moment I stepped into the parlour.

The goons stood out like warts on a Courtesan's smooth backside. Such glaring display was surely bait, inviting nervous people to lose their cool and turn around.

I walked past with the carefree gait and flowing robes of a rich patron. I didn't let my gaze linger on them, the man I played tonight would be too righteous to care. I reached the counter and asked to join the public session, two hours worth of Dream. I gave my fake name and ID, paid in cash. The men didn't react to me but that guaranteed nothing, so I started a mental list of potential enemies. I knew of five serious ones, six, if counting personal vendettas. I reviewed grudges in order of threat and seriousness as the young hostess showed the way to a lounge-room.

I wondered if it could be Hamsworth keeping tabs on me. I was months behind the man's deadline. I love deadlines, especially the noise they make as they fly by.

The goons could be some of my target's henchmen, left in the lobby while their master drooled in some drug infused paradise, but that would be an unexplainable change of attitude. After all, my target kept his Dream addiction so secret that he always moved alone and disguised himself a lot more than I ever care to and I'm the outlaw.

I am a Dreamcaster. One plagued with a busy body and mind.

I could never settle for the easy life of a parlour, making up worlds for anxious patrons to play in, managing them down rosy plots to ludicrous, fulfilling ends that would leave sweet submemories to mend their broken souls. Humdrum, wretched work! I strive on challenges. I cast like no one else: I can fake true life, give a taste to sounds, I can imagine colours that don't exist. I can take a Dreamer by the hand and have him walk me through his mind-palace with pride and honour. Which is, incidentally, one of the many aspects that make me a criminal, and the very task I was paid to execute tonight.

The hostess opened the door of a small, cushioned room. She smiled as she handed me a tray with needles, plastic straps and a little piece of disinfecting gauze. She left to fetch a vial of this session's Dream. No prattle, no explanations. No need for them: my arms were already out of my sleeves, both covered with the black tattoos that ran along the veins of professionals and junkies alike.

I wasn't done disinfecting myself when the door opened again.

'That was fast.'

The laugh that answered was manly. I didn't make it to my feet before other manly things crashed against me and pined me to the cushions. Four men loomed above, three holding me and one flicking at the glass of a syringe with a smile, all strangers. They had the rough faces of long-time mercenaries.

'I can inject myself, thanks,' I said, dripping sarcasm and not quite breaking character yet.

The fourth man laughed again and bent down to where his colleague held my right arm in a lock.

'I very much doubt you would.'

Then I saw the syringe properly. Its long needle dripped black. My whole body broke in a sweat.

'Oh no, no, no, you can't! Fuck, mate, you can't! Not Nightmare! Why?!'

The man plunged the needle in the dark maze of my tattooed veins. I shrieked, giving it all I had while the black sludge sank into me.

'You've been a bad man Mr Kureno,' the man said.

'Well, what the fuck does that make you mate?!'

'I'm only a delivery man. You should be grateful, now you'll be sleeping too tight to feel the trip.'

'To where? To whom?'

Darkness choked my thoughts before he could answer.

I started awake, panting, sweat plastering my hair to my skull. I was home, sitting in my bed, jumped halfway out of my kimono, sheets rumpled around my legs. Nightmares of thugs putting me under Nightmare? Next level shit. Probably a stray natural dream.

'Kure?'

I perked up. It was my mother calling me.

'Kureno?'

I froze. Yes. It was my mother. My ten-years-dead mother, coming up the stairs of a house I had burned down myself the day she'd died.

I looked at the crook of my arm and saw some gauze covering the vein the villains had pricked in that nightmare. I reached for it and started to pull. The skin came out with the gauze, flesh sloughing off my arm.

A false awakening! These men had really put me under to take me somewhere! In a second I was on my feet, dread pushing my stomach up my throat. I reached inwards, using the mental cues to access old memories.

I was trained in Nightmare, more than most too, but that meant nothing. With Nightmare, you had the stuff five times in your life and you were a veteran! I have thousands of hours of work on Dream, my brain grew on the drug, developed my reflexes for it. Nightmare stimulates different networks, it warps your subconscious perceptions, reverses the laws of the whole game. It would play my own habits against me.

I squatted, gathering myself for the push that ought to get me flying. Instead the air turned to thick jelly against my body, gravity pressing me to the floor.

Typical Nightmare dynamics.

'Kureno?'

My mother opened the door. She looked at me with empty eye-sockets, her twisted mouth pulled taunt against white jaw bones.

'What is it child,' she asked, reaching for my face, 'why won't you come down?'

I made to step back, my feet dragging, her hand just as slowly brushing past me, a battle in slow-motion.

'You're dead you know?' I said to my mother's dried, charred face. 'I burnt the house to the ground with you in it. That's why you're here. No matter how right it was to do, it's still the stuff of nightmare, these memories.'

With some effort I cleared my mind to trigger a new iteration. The nightmare reset itself, and as my old house and dead mother disappeared, I fell.

I tore through the air, an upside down townscape blurring in my sight. The sensation of falling was so vivid I cried in panic. None of my probes shaped the world as they should. I was in true free fall.

'Hey!'

I twisted around to find a man falling with me. Tall, lanky, with short, jet black hair over green eyes, my spitting image without any tattoos: my twin brother, Koharu. His aura however did not match his body. It was, and wasn't my brother. Such misplacement is common in natural dreams, and it felt aweful.

'Kureno,' my brother's image called, coming down on a level with me, 'grab my hand!'

'Fuck off.'

'Kureno, you'll die if you don't!'

I flipped over, feet down to the abyss of the sky, arms catching the wind, the crazy shapes of the world swirling out of reach.

'It's a Nightmare. Dying would just start a new iteration!'

'The ground is coming up,' he yelled, horror in his voice. It was. Somehow the sky had become a solid thing. Koharu caught my loose kimono, and I grabbed for his hand to pull him close.

It broke.

Shattered at the wrist like a twig, a flawed porcelain handled too rough. We stared at each other, stupefied, swallowed by the certainty of our death.

Reality hit me like a ton of brick.

I was on all fours, retching. Waking isn't like in movies, when you're never sure if you aren't still dreaming. Puking your guts out while awake never feels dreamy enough for such doubts. Koharu's hand was on my back, holding me while I gathered my wits. We were in a corner of his lab. I remembered now, my twin injecting me with his latest batch of so-called "innovation". We often work together. He's the smart one, I'm the artist.

'How much are you paying me to trial that black crap again?' I asked, wiping my face with a trembling hand.

'We'll discuss a raise once you've spat your analyses. Out with it, I want it fresh!'

'First iteration was incredible convincing. Instinctual theme, solid narrative structure, I was working a Tour-type Dreamcast. Paranoia heavy, but lowered wariness.' I detailed the attack, the subsequent false awakening, the free-fall, reviewed my feelings and sensations. 'If I hadn't woken up in our old house I might not have realised I was on Nightmare at all. Mother was there.'

We exchanged glassy looks.

'I could reset the iteration,' I went on, 'but other commands were completely ineffective. Whatever you're planning to do with this new variant, it will throw off anyone, trained or not.'

'Kureno,' he said, smirking at me with my very own favourite grin, 'this new Nightmare will throw off the whole world.'

~~ March 2016 – Nightmares

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC. Angst with a happy ending. Because my characters should never be happy.

The Hard Things--Original Ending.

Materlist (on a semi hiatus)

___________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her and then her phone chimes. She doesn’t halfway pay attention to it but her phone almost never makes a sound because she keeps it on vibrate. “Who knows what I’ve done now?” she mutters but doesn’t look. Whatever it was she should explain it away for sure. “Why wasn’t there a guarantee money back or some shit with love? It would make life a hell of lot easier for fuck sake. I mean the reward was a lot bigger if I did decide to date Calum. But the fucking risk. Where’s a genie or some fortune teller when you needed it?”

With the frustration dissipating with every shout, she finally lifts her hand and looks to see what caused the noise. Her fingers slip across the screen and she watches a message lift up before settling down with the delivered underneath it. “Whoops,” she mutters. And starts drafting a message in response. Sorry, didn’t mean to send that. Was just venting and must’ve hit something in my blind rage.

She sets the phone down without another thought and then goes back to sorting out her mail, though she glances down at the yellow page that Calum wrote his letter. She’d all her best friend in a bit to talk it out with them. A buzz sound--no doubt some sort of alert. She listens for how many buzzes. A text coming through.

Turning over her phone, Freya reads who the text is from. The name barely registers before her heart goes into a frenzy. Calum--New iMessage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, why is he texting me?”

A warranty on love is definitely a new concept. I assume you got my letter. You made it clear that you still weren’t sure where the boundaries were, I just wanted to say thanks. Or Duke did, I should say. You said you cherished our honesty and I’m going to be honest. I wrote a lot of different letters before sending the one I did. I’ve drafted a text to you nearly every day but never sent it because I didn’t want to put you in a predicament. But maybe we’re both at a point where maybe the risk might not be all that bad.

Freya exhales reading the text. How do you feel about splitting a pizza at my place tonight?

The message lifts and then settles again. The moments stretch for minutes. The bubble pops up and she watches the dots cycle from light to dark gray. I would love to.

Her hands shake and for a moment she wishes she hadn’t quit cigarettes. They weren’t good for her and she knows that. But god, right now with the shakes, she needs something to bring her down from the edge. The picks at her pinkie nail, leg bouncing. A knock at the door sounds and Freya freezes. The pizza’s already delivered, arrived maybe two or three minutes before this knock.

Another moment, maybe two passes, and then another knock sounds. She pushes up from the couch and heads to the door.

“Hi,” Calum exhales.

“Hi,” Freya returns. “Oh, come-come in.” She steps aside and waves Calum further inside.

As he steps through, he turns, keeping his back away from her. The door closes and he unveils a tiny pot, a greenish-purple plant staring back up at Freya. “I know you’re sensitive to flowering plants--like sunflowers or carnations. So I went to a local nursery, one that my gardeners recommended and one of the workers recommended succulents. They told me the name and I have absolutely no memory of what it is. Echev-I don’t know.”

Freya steps closer, gingerly taking the terracotta pot from him. It sits in the palm of her hand. “Echeveria. I think this one is a Black Prince.”

“Yeah, yeah, that.”

“Thank you.” It falls from her lips in a whisper. “Really, I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It shall live,” she says after a big exhale, “right here on the kitchen window sill.”

Calum grins a little watching her open the blinds to set the plant in. “How-how have you been?” He knows he came under the guise of pizza. But that’s not even close to the truth. So he closes the distance between them, crossing the kitchen. One hand settles on her hip.

Freya turns in the inch or two she has. His gaze is sincere but hesitant. Like there’s more he wants to say, but not sure if he can say it right now. His cheek is a little stubbly when she touches it, settles her palm into the warmth and squish of his face. She hadn’t expected seeing him in person would stir her gut like this. Maybe it’s because she was only giving excuses. Good ones, but still excuses. “Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“When I asked you about what you say in your home 10 years into the future and you said wife, did you see me?”

It doesn’t shock him that she sussed it out. That even with his vague include of the term, Freya would still see between the lines. “Honestly?”

“I’m making you an honest man.”

“Yes.” He closes his eyes for a moment. Not out of shame or some need to hide from the truth. But to steel himself. “When I said wife, I pictured you. And two kids--who in my imagination definitely had your hair texture and that scared me.”

“Scared you?” Freya asks.

“I barely can do my own curls. Two daughters with your texture would feel like jumping into the deep end without a floaty.”

“But you, theoretically, wouldn’t have been in the deep end alone. Me, my hairstylist, my mom, and stepmom--a lot of Black women to teach you a thing or two. But specifically two daughters, huh?”

Calum nods, his second hand sliding up onto her right hip. He holds her waist and she holds onto his cheeks ever so gently. He smiles at her. “That’s not to say I didn’t ask to try for a son as a third. Now you tell me something.”

“Scouts honor.”

“Can you really give into the risk? If you can’t, I will walk out of here right now and I won’t bother you again. Because above everything, I want what’s best for you. As much as it’ll hurt not have you again, we can’t keep going back and forth. It’s not good for either one of us.”

Freya knows he’s right. Would she regret giving Calum up a second time? Was the universe trying to give her the ever elusive second chance? Getting into a defined relationship with Calum meant she would have to figure out what to do after graduation and if had to leave would he be able to handle that? Was the chance of heartbreak worth the moments of bliss?

“I want my PhD--and I don’t know where that’s going to take me. I might be leaving California and that would be years, Calum. Years of me in a different state. And I don’t know, California doesn't feel like the end game for me. And that could just be the now talking. Who knows? But a lot is in motion and uncertain right now, does that change how you feel? Because maybe--maybe I can take the risk for a few moments of bliss.”

Calum’s knees almost give up on him, but he squeezes her to keep himself steady. “When I said I wanted as much of you as I could have before you left, I meant it. I absolutely meant every word of it. I meant I would take days, hours, decades if I could with you.The last time I even thought about daydreaming about a girl was so fucking long ago. And when you asked me about my future, it shocked even me to see you. That’s when I knew. I knew I was a fucking goner.”

“But I don’t know if I can give all that to you.”

“I’ll take what I can get it, Freya. And I am sure that in the future one of two things is going to happen: it will either hurt like hell when you leave or we get more time. I don’t know how much more. But I do know that those are the two options. And I will gladly embrace whichever one of them comes our way.”

Freya doesn't miss the inclusion of the plural. “Our way,” she teases with a grin, stretching up just a little. “Our way, huh?”

“Yes, our way.” Calum watches just how close she gets before she pauses. Her breath tickles over his skin. “Now, either we’re kissing and then eating pizza, or we’re kissing and then--”

Freya’s lip sealing around his cuts off the sentence. They exhale into each other, Calum pressing in closer and pinning her to the edge of the counter. Freya slides up against his chest just a hair, hands sliding up and then tying her arms around his neck. As they part, Calum rests his forehead against hers. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Thursday. Why do you ask?”

“Because I wanted to gauge if I could keep you up until 3 AM again,” Calum giggles. “But not about a competition this time. Like possibly pissing off your neighbors.”

“But I have the 8 am shift at the office.”

“And homework that you’d kill me for keeping you from.”

“Not quite murder, but there is a paper I have about 5 pages left on and should submit because it is like a third of my grade.”

“But Friday night?”

“I’m free--I traded a Monday evening shift earlier this week to get Friday off.”

Calum kisses her, soft and slow. It makes his whole body electric, to feel her relax into his touch. “Friday night then.”

“Before a night of debauchery, do you think we should talk? What happens if it’s too much or not working?” Freya doesn’t want to be the barrier of bad news. But she does like having a plan, a clear path to follow.

Calum’s not way to think too hard about things, to worry about things until they come up. But he knows Freya’s not like him. Clearing his throat, Calum holds up his pinkie. “This a pinkie swear that on Friday when you come over to my place for a night of debauchery, we will talk all about contingency plans.”

“You make it sound--”

“No, I know. You want the air clear and you want it clear sooner rather than later. And though, I normally am very much against a lot of the feelings talk. But for fuck sake, I already admitted that I thought about marrying you, so I don’t think now is the moment to shy away from it.”

“When you put it like that.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Freya hooks her pinkie around his. “But it is Wednesday. So, pizza and then if you want to stay after you can, I’ll just be working on that paper.”

“If you don’t mind the company, I would love to stay.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

[heir-of-the-founders]

Just a warning, this is gonna get kinda dark and messed up, so,,

Uhm, TW gore, blood, broken bones, falling, trains, fear, trauma

I had a thought but i really dont know how to put it into words, but imma try

Basically its this: bad things happen in one of two ways. Either everything is completely normal and then something terrible comes out of the blue, like an accident, or its starts mounting little by little.

The second one also happens one of two ways. Either you CAN stop it, but you dont, like some health things or even some environmental things, (though, thats not the fault of the individual, except the 500 individuals it IS the fault of), OR you cant stop it, and you just have to watch as something terrible slowly starts to encroach on your life. Like being tied to train tracks and not being able to do anything about the train thats coming.

Theres,,, honestly not much point to this. Its just an interesting thought that came to me.

Like, a lot of terrible things,,, they just happen. You get in a car accident that changes your life forever, or theres a bombing no one saw coming. Stuff like that.

But theres also something to be said for having a mounting fear, and the complete helplessness that comes with it. And, honestly, this ones the worse one. In my experience at least.

Like, i had two of them in the same day. One directly related to the other.

Basically, i was having a normal day, and my friends and i decided to go to a local hangout spot. This spot was a bridge that went over active train tracks. One sec, i have pictures

This bridge.

Its in the middle of nowhere, so nobody really bothers about having the cops called for loitering or disturbances. I know you can get the cops called on you if youre hanging out at the park. You can also stay here past curfew.

So. My friends and i went there. And we were dicking around, being kids. I was the second oldest, at 17. The youngest was 14 or 15 i think. But. I leaned back, because there was supposed to be a railing, but there wasnt because some asshole named dominick ripped it off a few weeks before. So. I fell. 30 ft. Broke a bunch of stuff. Om like kinda traumatized now i guess. I still have a limp and i cant sit or stand for very long. And im terrified of literally any height. The single step to get out of my house freaks me out. If i look at it too long i can have a panic attack. Its kinda bad.

But honestly, after i was on the ground, it was over with. I didnt know i broke my back at that point, so i didnt know that if i moved wrong i could sever my spinal cord. As far as i knew, that was as bad as it was going to get. Except. I was laying on active train tracks. There was probably a train coming. And because of how i was laying, i probably wouldnt have died quickly. I might not have even died. I would have probably been an amputee though. Because my leg was over the track and i couldnt move it because it was broken so badly. And. We called 911 but we didnt know what the bridge was called. We didnt know where we where. I was trapped.

A couple that lived nearby came by because they were coming home. They talked to the police for us and told them where we were. The lady put her jacket over me. She was nice. Except. I later found out that neither of them were usually home, and that this was a very rare occurrence.

Also, before i left, there was a train. They got it stopped in time, but it was close enough that if the couple had been even a minute later, it might have hit me. Because there was a slight curve right before the bridge. And there were enough trees that they couldnt see me. I remember that terror. That fear. That i could do absolutely nothing. The only option would have been for my friends to carry me to the side. But both of my legs were broken, and i later learned my back was too.

I dont like thinking about what would have happened if that couple hadnt come when they did. But sometimes. Sometimes i cant help it. The thought just. Comes in my head and i cant make it go.

And sometimes, when im trying to sleep. I close my eyes, and all i can think of is the moment my feet touched the ground, and i felt and heard my leg snap in half. The moment of pure terror, when i used the momentum of the fall to roll onto my stomache. The feeling of not being able to breathe at all because of the impact. The pain in my chest that i now know was because my sternum cracked. The desperate need to let somebody know i was there. The fear when all i could do was scream. The fear when i couldnt even do that. My friends screams. The anger that i felt when they almost didnt call 911 because they had stuff they shouldnt have. The raw fascination and bland terror when i could see my bone and muscle from the cut in my arm. The jolt of fear when the officer got there and was checking me over and said "her leg is... obviously deformed".

I dont know how to cope sometimes. I barely talk to any of the people that were there. I dont know anybody else thats been through something like this and i cant even bring myself to tell my therapist.

Id never even broken a bone before and then suddenly i broke 12. Id never been in a hospital for myself and now i know nurses by name.

I remember being so disoriented because the morphine they had me on for a week made me have really vivid dreams of going about my normal day. I remember waking up a little from my surgeries and just being in so much pain.

I just. Sometimes i get so scared.

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

Chapter 8

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By the time I got to Teller-Morrow, I was a little calmer, but my hands still shook a bit and I’d made sure to keep an eye out just in case she had me tailed. Juice met up with me in the parking lot, hurrying me back to the clubhouse so we could sit down and talk.

“What happened?”

“She dropped in and started asking me about my personal life, brought up my scars, mentioned how it was interesting that she couldn’t find any info on me at all, then asked if I knew about any illegal activities you or the rest of the club were up to.”

“What’d you tell her?” He was staring intensely at me, lips pressed into a thin line while his brow furrowed a little.

“The truth: as far as I knew, you and the others are just mechanics and motorcycle enthusiasts.” It was true; Juice hadn’t mentioned anything he did for the club and didn’t mention anything beyond anything relevant like helping Gemma with fundraisers or stuff like that. If they were doing illegal shit, I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. “We keep that shit separated from home. Unless it somehow involves me directly, like my life is in danger or your life is in danger or something, I don’t want to know. I’m perfectly fine being kept in the dark.” I rubbed my face with my hands, tired as all hell.

“You should get a room at Ivy’s hotel. I want you somewhere protected from Stahl. If that bitch harrasses you again, she’s not gonna like what’s gonna happen to her.” Juice growled, his fierceness endearing if not a touch scary.

“I’ll be fine at home, I’m not going into hiding.” I protested, getting up to follow him over to the bar, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She thinks she can intimidate me into talking about shit that I don’t know about. She’s bluffing and I’m not scared of her.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back with a soft sigh.

“Humor me, please? Just for now, it’s not forever. I just want to make sure that you’re safe and protected. It’s bad enough that that Ares fuck was trying to get Rusalka to turn on you, I don’t need Stahl hauling you in for something stupid.”

“Fine, but only because I don’t want you to worry. I’ll go home and get my stuff packed up.” I relented. I didn’t want to stay at the hotel, but if it gave him peace of mind, then I’d suck it up and do it. “I’m doing this on one condition though: you come with me. We can treat it like a vacation or something.” If I had to hide out, then he was coming with me.

“Yeah, alright, that’s fair. Let me let Clay know what’s goin’ on and then we’ll go pack our shit up and head over to Ivy’s.”

“I have to get over there now, we’re supposed to be having a meeting on what to do about Ares lurking around and what to do about Helena trying to take control of the Faelands. We’ll pack later after I deal with all of this mess,” I popped up to my feet, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Now? C’mon babe, wait just a minute, you just got here.” Juice caught my hand in his, pulling me down into his lap with a playful grin.

“Juan Carlos Ortiz, I have to go! I’m going to be late and I am never late for anything!” I giggled as he pressed soft kisses along my jaw and neck, squirming in his grasp when he reached a sensitive spot on my neck. “Stop it, that tickles!” I was full on laughing now, trying to move so he couldn’t access my ticklish spot, wiggling in his grasp to try and get free.

“I dunno babe, it’s kinda cute seeing you like this,” He teased me, but quit trying to tickle me all the same. “Go on, I’ll meet you over at Ivy’s later.”

“See you in a while love.” I was breathless from laughing so hard, tendrils of silvery hair that had come free of my braid falling into my face when I leaned in to kiss him. I could feel his hand come up to cup my face, rough fingers stroking over my cheekbone tenderly as he returned the kiss, resting his forehead against mine when we came up for air.

“Be safe, okay? Don’t let Stahl get a rise out of you.”

~*~*~

I could tell someone was tailing me towards Ivy’s, the creepy black van not exactly blending in well with the rest of the cars going by as I walked to the hotel. I wasn’t willing to risk exposing our people so I found myself ducking into an alleyway when a large truck blocked the van’s view, taking a back way to the hotel to avoid any problems. This bitch was absolutely relentless in trying to get information, and while I found her tenacity somewhat admirable, I was getting highly agitated that she was focusing that tenacity on us. Whatever her hard on for Juice and the others was, it was quickly becoming a thorn in my side. I already had enough on my plate without this being added to it.

I don’t know what the hell Juice is involved in, but damn if it isn’t a lot of trouble. I peered out around a corner, looking both ways to make sure I’d lost my tail, and went into the hotel quickly, breathing a silent sigh of relief as I leaned back against the doors.

“Hey, you must be Danica. The boss is out at the pool with Ashlyn, they’re waiting on the other two to get here.” A young gargoyle greeted me from the front desk, a grin lighting up his face as he jerked a clawed thumb back towards the twin frosted glass doors to the left of the desk.

“Awesome, thanks!” I raised a hand in a slight wave, striding towards the doors and heading out to the really fancy looking pool where Ivy and Ashlyn were talking quietly. “We have a problem. A big one.” I kicked my shoes off, setting them off to the side so I could dip my feet into the pool, pleased by the comfortable temperature of the water.

“What’s going on? Is it Keres? Did she betray us already?” Ashlyn was frowning, worried at the thought of having to potentially deal with Keres turning us into her mother.

“No, no I don’t think so. This is about that ATF agent, June Stahl. Y’know how she’s been poking around trying to find some sort of dirt on the guys and the rest of the club? Well now she’s looking into us. Er… okay, maybe not you Ashlyn since I don’t think anyone’s seen you and your soulmate together out in public before. It’s Happy right?” I glanced her way, trying to recall her soulmate’s name. I’d only ever heard his name a couple of times from Juice, but hadn’t met him yet.

“We haven’t really known each other long. It’s only been a couple weeks. And even then, we’re not together in public. I don’t think they’d have any proof of me even existing.” Ashlyn nodded, biting her lip. She was clearly thinking about this fairly hard, her brow creasing slightly and a frown was tugging at her lips.

“She came by Juice’s place this morning asking a bunch of questions. And she’s been actively trying to dig into who we are, like doing actual background checks.” I glanced over to Ivy since she had been seen with Kip, the prospect. “Of course now she’s even more suspicious because we don’t have anything: no ID, no birth certificates, not one thing. I’m worried we’re going to have our world exposed to the human world.” And now we reached the crux of the situation: our potential exposure to the human world beyond what we’ve already dealt with. It was one thing to show our true selves to our mates, it was an entirely different matter for our world to be exposed to all of humanity.

“Fuck. No wonder Kip’s been asking me to stay here. He’s been acting strange lately and I couldn’t figure it out, but this explains so much.” Ivy’s eyes went wide with the realization of why Kip had been so overprotective lately. It had explained why Juice had been so much more protective lately than usual, too.

“What do we do? How do we handle this? We can’t risk our world being brought into light, the humans would panic. We got lucky that our soulmates didn’t freak out about us.” Ashlyn was wringing her hands together as she spoke, the same anxiousness she displayed welling up in the pit of my stomach. Humans didn’t even like different humans, if they knew about us? It would be chaos waiting to happen. Oh sure, some would be into the idea of Fae existing, but others would call us monsters, want us wiped off the planet, and it would be a war they wouldn’t win.

“Oh, no, Chibs totally freaked out. He waited until he was out of earshot of Rusalka, but he definitely freaked. He’s from Scotland and lived in Ireland, the stories they have about us? I mean, okay, not totally wrong, but definitely not one hundred percent accurate either.” I grinned, hoping to ease some tension by joking around with Chibs’ reaction according to Juice. “But you’re right, Ashlyn. I’m not sure we’d receive a warm welcome by the people here, especially if they knew about the Blood Court and the Court of Bones.” We traded knowing looks, Ivy agreeing softly with me about those two abominations. Despite what Nyx had said, I still didn’t like or trust Keres. Something just seemed off about this whole thing with her and I didn’t trust it one bit.

“Ivy, I’m gonna need to get a room. Juice wants me hidden away here just in case Stahl tries to pull some shady shit. We need to lay low until all of this blows over.” I continued on, thanking her when she nodded in agreeance.

“Shit. Here we go.” Ashlyn murmured, her gaze trained on something over my shoulder. Turning, I saw Keres and Rusalka walking our way, the two of them looking less than thrilled. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, but I could tell whatever they were talking about had them as agitated, if not more, than I was.

“Have you guys been questioned by this ATF agent yet?” Keres growled, her crimson eyes blazing with rage. Oh she’d definitely had a run in with Stahl then and it clearly went about as well as my own encounter with her had.

“Yup. Just had an encounter with her this morning. I take it by that shining attitude of yours, you met her too.” I moved over so she could sit down as well and so I could put some space between the Blood Fae and myself. I didn’t want to be this close to her; I was still skeptical of her intentions and didn’t want to be tainted by her evil.

“She reminds me of my mother. Do you have any idea how unsettling that is to see in a human?” Keres shuddered at the mention of her mother, making a face. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her exaggerated reaction to the comparison between the two women, scoffing slightly. Who did she think she was fooling?

“Oh? You mean that’s not comforting to you?” I shot back, snorting derisively, sneering at the Blood Fae in disgust.

“No. It’s not. Are we gonna have a problem? If you’ve got something to say to me, I suggest you do it.” Keres snapped back with a vicious snarl on the tail end of her words. I could see Ivy back up quickly out of the corner of my eyes as we got to our feet. I was ready to throw down with Keres, wanting a little blood for the blood her people spilled. Keres had squared up as well, fists raised in preparation to swing.

“I’ve got a lot to say actually. What sort of game are you playin’ at here, Blood Court? Your kind doesn’t just turn traitor at the drop of a hat, so what’s the deal? Did mommy make you angry so you decided to run off in a tantrum?” I hissed out, taking up a fighting stance as well, watching her with deadly intent. Keres swore, cocking her arm back, and struck me in the jaw with her clenched fist, the taste of blood filling my mouth as my inner cheek and lip split wide open. I spat blood, watching the silvery gold liquid spatter across the concrete near the pool, and tackled Keres to the ground. We scrabbled for purchase, talons digging into exposed skin, Ivy screaming while Rusalka laughed her ass off.

“I can’t see what’s happening, but it sounds hilarious!” She cackled like a mad woman from where she perched herself on one of the lounge chairs. I ignored the Bone Fae, more focused on raking my talons across Keres’ face.

“I’m not playing at anything! I didn’t agree with the choice that was made to attack your people! Hell I even sent my friend Kiril to try and save your people!” Keres bellowed in my ear, grabbing onto my arm and yanking hard to pull it away from her neck. I snarled viciously in response and bit into her shoulder, digging my fangs in deeply, the sour taste of her blood mingling with mine, but I refused to let up. Fingers gripped my hair, yanking back hard to dislodge me, a foot making impact with my gut. The force of the kick had me flying back into some of the furniture and Keres was on me in an instant, her fists connecting with my face, chest, and gut.

“Hey! Break it up!” A masculine voice broke through our screeching and snarls.

“Shit!” Juice’s voice cut through the blood haze as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me away from Keres, holding tightly to my waist as I struggled in his grasp, hissing at Keres who had been hauled back by a very tall, lumberjack looking man who must have been her mate.

“What is going on?” Nyx had pushed her way through the others, disbelief written all over her face as she looked between the two of us, covered in blood and a right mess.

“She started it.” Keres ground out, spitting black blood from where I managed to clock her in the mouth. Nyx was frowning deeply, her brow furrowing in frustration and let out an exasperated snarl.

“You have got to be kidding me. What did we talk about already, Danica? Keres is on our side!”

“I don’t buy it! Watch, this is all just for show. Now that we’re all here, she’s going to find a way to bring in her assassins and deal with us right here and now.” I spat, gripping onto Juice’s arms tightly. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my neck, one hand moving carefully to rub my back gently, whispering sweet words to try and calm me down.

“Easy babe, c’mon take it down a notch. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmured softly, kissing along my ear tenderly.

“We have bigger problems right now! Settle your issues later, today isn’t the day for this. And Natalya, egging them on certainly doesn’t help. Ashlyn’s the only one here who hasn’t been interrogated by Agent Stahl since she and Happy haven’t been seen together in public. The rest of us are in big trouble if she keeps pursuing this, our people could be dragged into the light, shown that we’re not just stories, myths, made up monsters to keep children in line.” Nyx barked, her usual cool demeanor cracking slightly to reveal a fiery anger brewing just under the surface. It was eerie to see her look so calm and yet so furious all at once, her sharp features seeming sharper than normal as she glared at Keres and I.

“Fine, okay, whatever.” I grumbled, pushing away from Juice to walk off a few feet away, hissing softly as he immediately came after me, inspecting the damage to my face.

“She got you good, babe. That lip of yours doesn’t look good.” He very carefully ran his thumb over my swollen lip, absently licking the blood off as he studied me with a slight frown.

“You want to beat each other senseless? Fine, you’ll have your time. Right now though, I need you two to act like the royalty that you are and not some common Fae fighting for scraps. The only way we are going to survive all of this is by working together. Something big is coming and if we don’t get ahead of whatever it is, we are all going to be pulled under and crushed.” Nyx was still berating us, and I found I couldn’t meet her harsh gaze, keeping my eyes averted, my cheeks and ears burning from shame. A beat of silence passed, no one saying a word, until Happy scooped Ashlyn up to take her back to her hotel room, her mermaid tail glittering in the sunlight as he carried her past us, grinning at the wolf whistles from the guys. That moment of relaxation seemed to break everyone up, Keres and her mate going up to the room she presumably had here, Rusalka and Chibs going in as well, the Bone Court Fae laughing loudly at something he said to her, I got to my feet to go in as well, Juice right on my heels.

“Come here baby, let me get a better look at you,” He was gentle as he pulled me to a stop, carefully touching my face with a frown. “Shit you really got the hell knocked out of you. Might need to start calling you my little hellcat.” He teased me softly, smiling just a little.

“Bite me, my love.” I muttered with a huff of annoyance.

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned in to kiss me softly before lifting his hand up, a soft, blue glow coming from the palm of his hand. “Hold still, okay?”

I stood still as he carefully ran his hand over my injuries, focusing entirely on healing the wounds, humming softly under his breath as he worked. The warmth of the healing magic knit itself into my skin, leaving my mouth tingling with the magic and I smiled as soon as it was over. He’d gotten so good at this so quickly, I was impressed.

“Thank you love. You didn’t need to do that, it was fine.” I leaned in to hug him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek to his chest, breathing in his scent, finding it soothing.

“You doing okay? You two were goin’ at it pretty hard and she really landed some good shots.” He’d put a finger under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his worried gaze.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I don’t regret what I did, but I do regret letting my temper get the better of me. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m making questionable choices left and right lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Juan.” I was frustrated with myself for lashing out, but just seeing her face was enough to set me off. I wasn’t normally violent or angry like this and everything just hurt when I saw her.

“Nothing is wrong with you. You’re grieving, Dani. You lost your home, most of your people, you almost lost me… It’s a lot to put on someone. You don’t have to do this alone, let me help.” Juice pulled me back into a tight grip, one hand stroking my back while the other ran through my hair, tender and caring as could be. I pressed my face into his neck, my fingers gripping the back of his cut, bunching up the leather and the soft cotton shirt beneath it. I didn’t want this moment to come to an end, my heart swelling with a joy I’d never known before as we held each other, quietly appreciating one another’s presence.

“It’s my burden to bear. I’ve done enough to you, I can’t put anymore on your shoulders.” The protest was weaker than I’d meant for it to be, his strength and kindness nearly bringing me to my knees.

“Bullshit, you saved me by performing that ritual. So what if I’m Fae now? You did what you had to do and I’m glad you did. We’re a team, Danica. I’m here to help shoulder your burdens and do whatever I can to lighten the load. Just say the word and I’m there baby.” His hands went from my hair and back, to my face where he gently peppered me with kisses, making me laugh softly.

“I love you.” I leaned in to kiss him when someone cleared their throat and we jumped apart quickly, a scowl darkening my face when I spotted Keres strolling our way with a nasty smile on her face. Juice quickly traced the sigil to renew his glamour on his arm as surreptitiously as possible as the Blood Fae approached us. “How long have you been there?” I demanded hotly, bristling at the intrusion on our moment.

“Not long at all. Why? Did I interrupt something?” Her grin only got wider at my reaction.

“No,” I growled icily, turning to Juice with a softer look. “I’ll see you after the meeting, okay babe?” I stood on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss to his lips and stalked off to the board room where we were supposed to be meeting up to discuss our options.

“Wait a second,” Keres grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to stop and face her. “I know you made Juice a High Fae. How’d you do it?”