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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years ago

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gently rings a little bell in your ear My fic updated with two new chapters when you weren't paying attention! but now i am tilting your chin up with the point of my sword, forcing you to look. its very villainous and cool. this is part three of an increasingly convoluted story, part one can be found all the way over here but if you just want the high school romance stuff and don't care about found family, that's fine, i guess, but like, what's your deal

The weekend is a welcome relief from everything at school. He’s tired of feeling like shit, so Saturday, annoyingly bright and early, he startles Lydia awake by flopping on her bed. It causes her to bounce, and she groans, pulling the dark purple blanket further over her head. “Beetlejuice…” “I was thinkin’, today we should spend th’ whole day outdoors, in th’ park or somethin’,” he grins, and she lifts the blanket just barely, to glare at him. “You only want to play outside because all your stuff was taken away,” comes her accusation, and she’s not exactly wrong, but he just wiggles a hand under her blanket and gives her nose a poke. “Let’s go get lost, somewhere. Come on, Lyds, please?” She tries to hit him with a pillow but her grip is tired from sleep, and all she manages to do is shove the thing at him.

Twenty minutes later, she’s dressed and ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet, as he mulls over which button up to wear, the highlighter yellow with purple bugs, or the dark green with orange bones. They’re two equally ugly shirts that kind of give him a headache to look at, and both are favorites. “I can’t believe you woke me up at eight so I could stand around watching you go through your wardrobe.” “This is important.” He settles on the bugs, finally, and pulls it on before turning to Lydia, but she’s gone. He blinks, and sticks his head out his door, in time to headbutt her as she comes back in. Both siblings reel back and hold their heads. “Beetlejuice…” she groans. “Lyd-eee-uhhh,” he mimics her. She huffs and throws what she’d gone to her room to retrieve at him. He catches it, then stares. It’s his hoodie, his ruined one from that disastrous Halloween. He can still see that faded dark copper stain in some places, but it's better than it was. Also, the holes slashed in the arms have been very sloppily stitched with a thick, black embroidery thread. He looks back at his sister. “You seemed like you were having a hard week,” Lydia says, shuffling her feet. “I never sewed anything before, I’m sorry it looks kind of messy, and I tried really hard to get the bloodstains out...” He slips his familiar stripes back on and feels much more at ease. “It’s cool,” he tells her. “I like messy.” He holds open his arms and she falls into them, pressing her face against his stomach. It's a nice moment, and for once, he doesn’t feel inclined to ruin it, just pats his little sister’s head. “Love you.” “Love you too.”

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` Charles, ever an early riser, is surprised to see his children in the kitchen this bright eyed and bushy tailed on a Saturday. He’s pouring two coffees, one for himself and one for Emily, who is sitting at the table, head propped up on her hand, and still functionally asleep, when Betelgeuse and Lydia come bounding in to raid the fridge. “And what are you two getting up to today?” he asks, and the siblings pause to look at him. “Goin’ to th’ park.” “You think so?” Betelgeuse’s shoulder slump. “Seriously? You take all my stuff away an’ now I can’t even go out?” “You’re still in trouble. Why should you be allowed to go out and have fun?” “Cause that wasn’t specified!” Betelgeuse tries, and then turns to Emily. “Ma, tell him!” Emily mutters in her sleep, and Charles wordlessly sets the coffee down in front of her. The smell hits her nose, and robotically, she lifts the drink to her lips, eyes never opening. “Let BJ go do stuff,” she manages, maybe not as eloquent as she normally speaks, her voice gruff from sleep. Betelgeuse grins up at Charles. His father sips his own coffee, and then pats his son’s head. “Home before dark. No fire, no demon nonsense, no taking drugs from strangers.” “Home at midnight, commit arson, summon Satan, enjoy stranger candy. I gotcha.” Both his children receive a kiss on the head before stuffing Lydia’s little black coffin bag with snacks, and heading out.

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It’s a big city, and there’s not a loss of things to do, especially with his powers, and there’s no adult supervision today. They find a café and enjoy a big breakfast, then he turns them invisible and they sneak away before the check comes, only reappearing a block later, Lydia grinning wildly. “Food tastes better stolen!” she says, and he pats her head. “There’s my little criminal.” They sneak into a movie, next, some horror thing Lydia had wanted to see that even Emily, the fun parent, had said she was too little for. It’s absolutely a gore fest, but not especially good, and they throw popcorn at the screen and cheer whenever the killer scores another victim.

“I think you’d die early in a slasher,” she says after, scattering their uneaten popcorn on the pavement in front of the theatre. She gets the attention of a whole flock of pigeons, which land and begin pecking at the kernels. “What’s your logic, there?” “You die on screen early and then the twist is you faked your death and were the killer.” “Ohh, classic. I love it.” “I’m a total final girl,” Lydia turns the half empty bucket upside down, much to the joy of the starving sky rats. “And then at the end, it’s like, I knew you were the killer the whole time, and I was just acting. Cause we’re in it together. You know, partners in crime.” He picks her up, slings her over his shoulder. “Always.”

He takes them to Central Park, next, holding her hand behind the theatre and apparating, accidentally, up a tree. She gasps and clings to him, and he digs his claws into the bark of the tree to steady them. “No worries, no worries. I just gotta..” They appear on the ground below, and Lydia looks dizzy. “Feels weird when you do that,” she tells him. “Like riding a rollercoaster, except your limbs are all asleep. But.. Kinda not that, at the same time.” It feels normal to him, but he regularly eats tin cans, so what does he know about normal to begin with?

Lydia takes her camera from her coffin bag, and readies it. It’s a little instamatic she got for her birthday, a few months ago, and she’s going through film like crazy, taking some pretty shitty pictures. He’s not that blunt to her face, though. It’s not like he was a rockstar on the ukulele when he first started, and she’s got a lot of enthusiasm for taking photos. He’s not going to be the one to squash that for her.

Also, he’ll bite off the hand of whoever tries.

“You think this can take pictures underwater?” she asks, aiming her camera at a random woman jogging by. The jogger makes a face, which seems to be what Lydia expects, because she snaps the picture as the woman continues on her way, and the little photo pops out the bottom. Lydia gives it an aggressive shake.

“I’m gonna guess no. Besides, it’s too cold for you to take a swim.” “So let’s go somewhere warmer. I’m thinking Hawaii.” “Good idea, genius, an’ how do you think we’re getting there?” “You can teleport us.”

He actually has to stop and think about that. “I don’t think I could do it in one straight shot,” he says at last. Lydia has moved to a different kind of voyeurism, because she’s on her stomach on the grass, following the movement of a trail of ants with her lens. “I’d probably have to do little distances, an’ get tired and need a nap in th’ middle.”

“Maybe through a mirror? Like Sam?” She adjusts the optic, an entirely useless motion, because this camera doesn’t have any kind of zoom feature. But she’s seen people do it in nature documentaries. “Never done mirror travel before.” He mulls that over. “I’ll practice when I get home, an’ see if I can even pull you through.” “You’re not allowed to go to Hawaii without me,” she gets what she considers her perfect shot, and then stands, brushing off her dark red dress. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They go bone hunting next, Lydia’s camera still at the ready, his keen nose leading the way. It’s easy to find owl pellets, and she breaks one open with her bare hands, as he teases her.

“Ew ew ew, Lydia gross, you’re touching it!” he pitches up his gruff voice to sound like a tweenage girl, and she rolls her eyes. “No skull in this one,” she frowns, wiping her hands on his hoodie.

“Maybe there’s a bodiless mouse head around here, livin’ it’s best life.” She looks doubtful.

Another, different smell hits his sensitive nose, just then. It’s death, new and fresh. His pupils dilate, and he follows it, her trailing after him, assuming he’s on the scent of more animal bones. What they find instead is an old man propped against a tree. He’s still warm, but the color is draining from his face, and rapidly. He doesn’t look hurt, he’s not bleeding. It’s like he sat down for a rest and died.

Lydia doesn’t get it, not right away. Death is a funny punchline in an overly gorey movie. She’s never seen the real thing, before. “Should we wake him up? It’s cold to be sleeping here.” He lifts the man’s arm, and it flops bonelessly back down. Her eyes go wide. “I doubt he’s gettin’ back up, kiddo.” She lifts her camera and takes a picture.

“Hello?” He hears a voice, and turns. The old man is standing next to himself. He looks back at Lydia, but she’s staring in fascination at the corpse, so he leaves her to it. “Hey,” he nods to the man, who looks relieved. “Can you call my grandson? My phone battery died,” he says, not seeming to understand the position he’s in. Betelgeuse tilts his head to the side. “You’re dead,” he says, a bit unkindly, and Lydia, who has been kneeling by the body, poking it, looks up at him. “I am?” “Wh- No, not you, Lyds, th’ stiff.” He gestures to the ghost, who has seemed to notice “himself” laying there. Lydia looks at her brother, confused. “There’s no one there.” “Sure there is. You just can’t see ghosts.”

“That’s me,” the old man says, not that anyone’s listening to him. “Should we tell someone about this?” Lydia asks him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “Why? Someone will find th’ body eventually. You know. When it starts smellin’ like shit.” “I don’t want to leave him out here.” “Please, don’t leave me out here!” “I wouldn’t want to be left out here.” “Lucky for you, you’re never gonna die. You even try it an’ I’ll shove your soul back down your throat, if I have to.”

He smells the netherworld, and grabs Lydia, pulling her back, in time for another ghost to appear. A guide. The guide doesn’t even take a moment to look around, just instantly busies herself with getting the newly dead situated, and Betelgeuse picks Lydia up and carries her away. “That’s so sad,” she says, taking one last picture of the body from atop his shoulder. “I guess.”

They find the next official looking person they see, someone cleaning up trash, who doesn’t believe them, clearly, until he sees one of the photos Lydia took. The deathly pallor of the old man convinces him to go looking. Thirty minutes later, that part of the park is crawling with breathers, and the two of them are stuck on a bench, being talked to by cops. It’s a whole, boring process, and it’s drawing a big crowd. “Told ya, we shoulda minded our business,” Betelgeuse nudges his sister. Lydia is looking overwhelmed. Neither sibling ever gets this much attention. There’s even a news crew, though he can’t imagine what for. It’s just one old dead guy, and it’s not even a murder. Someone with a microphone tries to approach them, and he turns their mic into a black and white striped snake, forcing them to fling it away from themselves in a panic, and then he grabs Lydia.

They blink from existence and appear a ways away, and Lydia’s clutching his hand harder than she needs to. “Hey, come on.” His grating voice is soft, for her, as he kneels to her level, and she throws her arms around his neck. “How are you so calm? Doesn’t it make you sad?” she asks, softly, and he gives her an extra squeeze. “Happens to all breathers, Lyds. But it’s not somethin’ I gotta worry about, ever. So… no, not really.”

“Will you be sad when I die?”

He scoops her up, holding his little sister in his arms, and stands, her still clinging around his neck. “When you die at a hundred and twenty,” he tells her, carrying her along the path. “Wherever in the netherworld you end up, I’ll go too. Won’t even have time to be sad, me an’ you’ll be too busy causin’ trouble, even then.” She seems satisfied with that answer, and he doesn’t mind carrying her, so they enjoy the autumn leaves like that, her in his arms, as he follows the winding pathways of the park.

They don’t tell Charles and Emily, when they finally do get home, the sun just barely still peaking over the horizon. It doesn’t seem like a good idea, and Lydia doesn’t especially want to talk about it anymore. She pins her new photos up on the twine strung between the tall bedposts in her room. There’s a couple nice ones, and she lets him eat the ones she decides she hates. “Does it count as part of being grounded if you watch my tv?” she asks, and he grins. “Let’s find out.” She pops in Coraline, which he has to assume she’s got fucking memorized at this point, but they also talk through most of it. By the time the tasty looking bug furniture is on screen, her eyelids are drooping. “I dunno why they make her eatin’ bugs so evil. I wanna try beetles from Zanzibar,” he complains, and she just snorts in response “I’ll get you some fancy beetles, for your birthday.” “Kay. Sounds good.” She falls asleep on him a minute later, and he waives a hand, snuffing the lights, but lets the movie finish playing as he settles next to her, and sleeps.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` That next week is boring, but normal. Adam’s in the library every day, despite his earlier insistence that he had better things to do. Betelgeuse honestly just wheels the cart along and lets Adam shelf the books, now, which the nerd seems to unironically enjoy. He’s all smiles as he gets to put things away neatly. It’s embarrassing how endearing and cute Betelgeuse finds that. It’s Tuesday, Barbara isn’t there that day, at least, not right at that moment, so Adam is babbling about her. “Barbara and I aren’t really performers,” he’s telling Betelgeuse, returning a stack of history books to their proper places on the shelves. “But we thought it would be fun to try theatre together, and then we really enjoyed it, so we’ve been in the last two productions. She can really sing, she does this high note, and it’s-” “Angelic, I bet.” Both boys give a stupid, love sick sigh. Adam pauses, and nods, and then studies the other teen. “So.. You.. You like her?” “Yeah,” he says easily. “But that doesn’t mean anythin’.” “What do you mean?” “I mean,” he clarifies, flopping across the cart, stomach first, and laying on it, staring down at Adam, who is crouching to reshelf some more books. “That despite me being a hot piece of ass, I’m probably not her type. I imagine she goes more for…” he studies Adam, trying to think of a nice word for boring, plain and vanilla. “More stable guys,” he lands on. “Like you. I bet she even likes how cute your butt looks in your khakis. I know I do.” Adam flushes. “You think so?” “It’s a good butt.” He nods, and Adam goes redder. “I meant, you think Barbara.. Might like me?” “Well, don’t push your luck, or nothin’, but you probably got a better chance with her.”

“You’re not entirely unlikable,” Adam offers. Betelgeuse lets out a guffaw that’s too loud, because someone in the next aisle over shushes him. “You already forget what I told you Friday?” he rests his head on his hand, tone condescending. “I know no one wants me around.”

“You’re setting yourself up for failure, with that attitude.”

“You think so, huh? Think I just need to hold hands round th’ campfire and sing kumbaya with all you breathers? I don’t think anyone would even take my hand. Probably couldn't get away from me fast enough.” There’s a pause. He doesn’t realize what he’s said until Adam is repeating it. “Breathers?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply, because he feels a push on the cart, and turns to see Barbara, hands on the handle. “You’ve completely given up even trying, haven’t you?” she says, and he thinks she means about the books, and smiles. “No point. Adam’ll just do it for me.” “I mean with talking to people. With making friends.” His smile falls quickly into a scowl, and he runs a hand through his wild mess of green hair. “Lay off me, Babs. I’m bein’ friendly right now, aren’t I?”

“Sure, it’s plenty friendly, letting Adam do your work. But you don’t try, and then you get your feelings hurt when no one does it for you.” That’s not laying off, and it’s irritating him. “You can’t imagine anyone being nice to you, so you’re rude and push everyone away the first chance you get, in case what? In case you make a friend? Kevin probably needs you, right now,” she presses, physically too, making the cart he’s still lying across lurch forward. “I told you what happened to his dad, and you just said he wasn’t even your friend, when everyone knows you spent the last few months holding hands and making googoo eyes at him, and only talking to each other.”

“S’none of your business,” he tugs at his hair, pulling a tuft down to watch the color. Still green. He’s okay, but he keeps it there, in front of his eyes, focusing on it and not having to look at Barbara. “I’m making it my business. What are you so afraid of? What’s with the barrier? I saw you with your sister, you’re normal and nice, to her. So it’s other people you’re afraid of?” “M’not,” he growls out, standing up off the cart. “Afraid of anythin’.”

“You are,” she says, letting go of the cart and stomping to stand in front of him. She’s got him cornered, his back pressed to the bookshelf behind him. He keeps his eyes on that green tuft, biting his bottom lip. “You’re afraid of rejection, so you don’t talk, or you’re a jerk to people. You’re so afraid of other people, you make yourself sit alone every day, even when there’s an empty seat next to someone else.”

“No one wants me around!”

God, that hurts. He can see purple forming in the tip of his hair.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he rasps at her, letting his hair go, and finally looking directly at her. “You think I like sittin’ alone, bein’ the weird kid in every class, not havin’ anyone to talk to? It sucks!” he hears himself being shushed again, and he expends a burst of power in that direction, knocking books off the shelves to hit the person who can’t mind their own business. The sudden noise makes both Adam and Barbara jump. “You ever noticed that anytime I’ve tried, people can’t get th’ hell away from me fast enough? I’m tired of bein’ alone, but every time I try, somethin’ goes to shit, or I'm ignored! So maybe it is easier to just be a jerk an’ not worry about gettin’ hurt, than to keep tryin’ and ache all th’ time.”

It’s the most honest he’s ever been, out loud. Barbara clenches her fists, but doesn’t say anything. He sees Adam push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Lunch isn’t even close to over, and he’s just made more work for himself by knocking those books off the shelf, but he doesn’t care. He grabs his backpack from the cart and pushes past the two of them, and he storms out, forcing the library door to slam, even though it’s a soft close door. It feels more final, that way.

He spends the rest of lunch invisible, to avoid any more trouble with adults, and slumps into his customary seat in the back of every class, for the rest of the day. No one talks to him. He doesn’t try to talk to anyone. It’s a system, it works. Stupid Barbara. What does she even know? Like she can somehow understand anything he’s going through. She’s pretty, and cool, and has a ton of friends, he thinks, absolutely bitter. She doesn’t get it.

He trudges to the drama room after school, and pushes open the door with his shoulder. The seats are in a circle, again, and he chooses a random one, pointedly, away from Adam and Barbara, between two other people. He sits there, silent, and after a moment, the two kids both move seats. How miserably predictable. Come on, he wills himself. No purple, no red. Just stay green. You can go home and freak the fuck out, but just stay green, he begs his hair.

He wipes his nose hard with his hoodie sleeve, and focuses on that, on the texture of the fabric and the way he rubs hard enough for it to hurt. Pain is as close to relief as he can get. Then the chairs next to him are scooted closer, and he blinks, and realizes that Adam and Barbara have settled on either side of him. He doesn’t.. Get it. He can’t understand, but then both of them reach a hand out, and take one of his, and give it a squeeze. It’s grounding. He takes a breath he doesn’t need, and then a couple more, shaky and painful, and he gives their hands a squeeze back, like he’s making sure they’re real. They are.

When the club starts, he tries, very sincerely, to focus on what’s being said, and not the bright hot feeling blooming like a flower in his chest. Read the rest here!!

#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fanfiction #adam maitland #barbara maitland #emily deetz #lydia deetz #beetlejuice broadway

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cornfields-and-bad-dreams · 4 years ago

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For @cyans-stardust

Summary: On a rainy day Geoff remembers a few moments with Michael and Gavin.

Word count: 1,666

Rating: PG-13

Geoff sat by the window sipping at his coffee, it was a quiet day, rainy but calm. The perfect day to do nothing. The only other people in the penthouse were Michael and Gavin, the two of them sat in the living room playing Mario Kart. Geoff watched them out the corner of his eye, laughing to himself when Michael freaks out at another loss.

"You've got to be cheating, did Matt teach you his secrets?"

Geoff peered out at the rain again, his mind wandering to the memory of his first encounter with the two men.

The rain came down in sheets, you could barely see a foot in front of you. Geoff trudged down the street umbrella in hand. Hardly anyone was out walking in that weather but Geoff had started out when it was only a drizzle, so now he was stuck in the torrential rain. All of a sudden Geoff was dragged into an ally and shoved up against a wall. The barrel of a gun was pointed at his face, Two young men stood in front of him drenched by the rain, one holding the gun the other holding him against the wall.

"Give us your wallet." The man restraining him ordered.

"Or else." The second man added.

Geoff could tell the two weren't from Los Santos, one spoke with an east coast accent the other an English one. Even through the rain, Geoff could tell their clothes were old and worn with various holes and patches. It was obvious that these were desperate men.

"You don't have to do this you know. There are other options."

The English man seemed confused while the other scoffed, his face scrunching up with anger.

"What do you know? Just give us your fucking money."

Geoff remained calm, it certainly wasn't the first time he'd been held at gunpoint.

"I know a lot more than you'd think. I've been where you are, broke and desperate, trying anything I can to stay afloat. I've done things I regret, hurt people who didn't deserve it, but I was able to find solid ground, to climb my way up from the bottom. I didn't do it alone, and you don't have to either."

"Shut up." The man holding him let go with one hand and brought it back in a fist, striking Geoff across his face. "You don't know us, you don't know anything."

Through the rain, it was hard to tell but Geoff knew that the man was crying.

"Michael." His friend spoke softly lowering the gun.

"I can help you. If you'll let me."

Geoff wasn't a good samaritan, he was far from it, Geoff was the Kingpin, one of the baddest men in the city. He ran an empire of crime the likes of no one had ever seen, but deep down he was a good person, even if others didn't see it. And at that moment Geoff felt sorry for the two men before him.

"And what's in it for you?" Micheal asked.

"You come to work for me. That's all, I'll provide you a place to live, food, money, and anything else you need."

"What kinda job is it?" The Englishman asked.

"I'm in the crime business myself, but on a much grander scale. You work for me and we'll be going after people who deserve it."

Michael's grip loosened, as he took a step back.

"Why are you offering us this?"

"As I said before, I've been where you are now. I know what it's like. This city is unforgiving, so someone has to be."

The two men looked at each other then back to Geoff.

"I'm Michael, this is Gavin." He gestured to the other man

"Geoff."

"What now?" Gavin asked.

"Let's get you, boys, to your new home."

Geoff finished his coffee and made his way into the kitchen. Pouring himself another cup he listened to the two men in the living room.

"Michael boy, why'd you do that to me?"

"Cause I want to win dumbass."

Gavin made a sad noise as Michael laughed. Geoff's thought drifted off to a different memory.

It was early Saturday morning, Geoff paced back and forth in the penthouse living room, Jack stood nearby biting at her nails.

"They should be back by now, when was the last time you saw them again?" Geoff asked the younger man on the couch.

Jeremy jumped at Geoff's sudden words, looking up he stammered a moment before answering.

"We were at the bar. I called it quits a little before midnight, but they wanted to stick around till the last call. I got a voice message from them around 2 though. They sounded alright then."

It was nearly 6 AM, Michael and Gavin hadn't made it back to the penthouse and everyone was getting on edge, especially Geoff.

"Maybe they crashed at one of the safe houses," Jack suggested.

"Or maybe they got picked up by the police, or they had some kind of accident. Anything could have happened to them." Geoff was officially freaking out.

"I know that, but I'm trying to think positively. We can't just jump to the worst." Jack was starting to get defensive.

Geoff picked up his phone again and tried to call Gavin. The phone just rang and rang as it had been for hours now, finally clicking over to the voicemail. Geoff threw his phone down cracking the screen.

"Geoff! You need to calm down, getting worked up like this isn't going to help." Jack placed their hand on Geoff's shoulder giving it a light squeeze.

Geoff breathed heavily as he stared at his phone. He knew Jack was right but he couldn't calm down. Michael and Gavin, his boys, were missing, but there was nothing he could do. He was scared.

All of a sudden Geoff's phone began to ring, Michael's contact photo popped up on the cracked screen. Geoff dove for the phone answering the call.

"Michael, where the hell are you guys? Are you okay?"

A laugh could be heard on the other end, one that was very obviously not Michael or Gavin's. Geoff's blood ran cold.

"Who is this?"

Jack took a step forward and Jeremy bolted off the couch at those words.

"You can call me Mr. Cunningham. You've probably figured this out by now, but I have something of yours, two somethings to be exact. Say hello boys." The last bit was fainter as he was speaking to someone away from the phone.

Michael and Gavin's voices could be heard calling Geoff's name asking for help, the two sounded tired and broken. Geoff was frozen for a moment as he processed everything, finally able to move he clenched his fist and growled into the phone.

"I don't know who you think you are but you are going to pay for this. I'll give you one chance to hand over my boys peacefully, if you refuse there will be trouble."

"Oh Mr. Ramsey, you're not the one with the upper hand here, you don't get to make demands. If you want your boy's back you're gonna have to do as I tell you, or else."

The sound of a gunshot could be heard in the background followed by a cry of pain from Gavin, Michael's voice could also be heard in protest.

"What do you want." Geoff gritted his teeth.

Geoff's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of Michael cheering in victory and Gavin's bemoaning of loss. It was probably for the best anyway, thinking about such things wasn't good for anyone.

Making his way into the living room, Geoff plopped down on the couch in between the two men.

"Mind if I watch?"

"Always great to have an audience," Gavin replied.

"Yeah sure, just don't distract me." Michael joked.

Leaning back Geoff watched as another round was started, and once again Geoff was reminded of another memory.

It had been a week since they got Michael and Gavin back, Geoff was still a bit on edge after the whole ordeal, but he kept reminding himself to stay calm for the guys' sake.

Geoff was sitting on the couch flipping through the channels when Gavin came in. He was still limping from the bullet he'd taken in the foot. He made his way over to the couch and stood next to Geoff a moment before speaking.

"Do you mind, if I sit here with you?" Gavin's voice was soft, far from his usual energetic tone.

"Of course you can sit with me."

Gavin smiled a bit and came to rest beside Geoff. After a moment Michael entered the room, passing through to the kitchen Geoff watched out the corner of his eye as Michael poked around before coming back to stand behind the couch.

"What are you watching?" Michael's tone was quiet and tired, far from his typical loud and boisterous tone.

"Just channel surfing at the moment, trying to find something to watch," Geoff replied.

"Ah. Can I, sit with you too?" Michael was hesitant to ask.

"Of course, the more the merrier." Geoff patted the empty space next to him.

Michel made his way around the couch and sat next to Geoff. The three men sat together as Geoff continued to scan through the channels. Slowly the two men beside him began to move in closer until they were fulling resting against him. Of course, Geoff didn't mind, in fact, he quite enjoyed having his boys so close. After finding something to watch and staying on one channel for a while Gavin spoke.

"Thanks, Geoff."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"Yeah, we really appreciate you," Michael added.

"I appreciate you guys too."

Geoff wrapped his arms around the two men giving them a tight hug.

Geoff smiled, spending time with his boys was his favorite thing to do. Whether it be sitting on the couch or causing a bit of chaos. His crew was his family and he loved his family.

#fahc #fahc geoff #fahc gavin #fahc michael #my writing #fanfic

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

Note

What if Faith has a job that Faust loves to bother her at? Maybe something quiet like a bookstore or somewhere loud like a music store. He’d come into it acting as if he was SUPER intrigued about a book about knitting, but he KNOWSS she’s watching his fingers slide against the books pages...

Note: Sorry to the Faust fans for the delay. I’ve had my hands full with other writing projects, but I haven’t forgotten about our two lovebirds! I absolutely adore these two and can’t wait to write more requests! Thanks to all the sweet darlings who’ve sent in drabble requests for these two. I see you!

Read more Faust x Faith here (x)

When Summer arrived, Faith landed a job at a local bookstore in the city's only mall. Her new position cut into the time she spent texting her boyfriend, and yes, Faust was — according to her — of official boyfriend status. Though he hadn't reciprocated the formal title, he assured her in his own way that he wasn't interested in seeing other girls. That much satisfied her, until the first time Faust visited her at the store.

A week into training, they finally trusted Faith to work outside of a superior's shadow, and Faust made a trip to the mall to surprise her. Faith hadn't sent him any messages the entire day, so her surprise came swift and fierce when she turned around and saw the tall, black-clad man trudging down the DIY and recipe book aisle. She stifled an excited gasp with her mouth and approached him with a little too much eagerness. Faust took a step back, throwing his right eyebrow up as though he had never met her before.

"Hi!" Faith inhaled.

"Hi?" said Faust, maintaining his expression of confusion. "Can you show me where I might find books about serial killers?"

Faith played along with the game of strangers. She winked at him and motioned for him to follow. "Right this way, young sir. And might I say, that's a very nice inverted crucifix shirt you're wearing. I'm sure your girlfriend's parents would love that t-shirt if you were ever to meet them."

Instead of snickering, Faust sneered. "Good thing I don't have a girlfriend."

She knew he was poking fun, but her heart faltered despite the jest. It brought to the surface too many thoughts about Faust that made her second-guess her intrigue in him. He still hadn't asked for sex or given her the chance to turn it down. Not that she would; after so many weeks of teasing, Faith wanted nothing more than to feel him inside. Faust seemed to have no interest in coupling or anything more than making her come. Why Faust had yet to deem her worthy sat like a cinder block in her stomach whenever they hung out. And he was resolute when it came to ignoring her questions.

Nevertheless, Faith found herself falling hopelessly in love with the musician. Whether they had sex or not, she couldn't deny the butterflies that came alive in her stomach whenever he was near. Or were they bats? Faust was the farthest departure from her type she could imagine. Nothing about him should have enticed a girl like her, but she couldn't get enough of his odd lifestyle.

Faith showed him to the horror section, but Faust was unfulfilled.

"No, this is all fiction. I'm talking true crime. Not Dean Koontz," said Faust.

Faith pointed down the aisle. "Just a few steps that way, sir."

"Cool, thanks."

Faust turned from her and pretended to browse before tossing her another unsettled glance. Before she could scoff and join him at his side, Faith was called away to ring out a customer. When she returned to find Faust, he had wandered around to the health and wellness section of the store. He had in his hand a book titled One Hundred and One Sex Positions; the volume splayed open in front of his face to block Faith from seeing his smirk. She watched him so intently Faust almost felt her eyes burning holes into his back.

The title made Faith forget about the cinder block in her belly. Her nerves seized while a twinge in her chest kickstarted the flow of blood to her face. Was he dropping a hint? If she made a move on him again, would he reject it once more, leaving her insecure and hopeless? Faust claimed to care about her, so what benefit did he receive from stringing her along? Faith had a dozen and more questions for him, but it had to wait until she finished her shift.

He invited Faith over that evening, encouraging her to tell her parents she was going to see Jessica. The thought of her lying just to see him always filled him with twisted joy.

Tonight she seemed different. Faith was rambunctious, bouncing all over his apartment like a child high on sugar until he calmly asked her to have a seat with him. She did and soon climbed over his lap to thread her fingers through his hair and latch onto his neck. Faust let her suckle a faint red welt on his neck before he pulled back to occupy her mouth with his own.

As their kiss deepened, Faust let his hands find the swells of her bottom, and stayed there, squeezing and caressing until she whimpered into his mouth. Faith fretted against his lap, trying to get a feel for his cock beneath his jeans. When nothing sprung up, she pulled away, searching his eyes for any sign he wasn't enjoying himself.

"What?" He asked.

"You don't really like me, do you?" Faith asked.

"What are you talking about? I'm kissing you?"

"So what? You've kissed lots of other girls that you claim you didn't like. What makes me different?"

Faust rolled his eyes. "Oh, here we go again."

"It makes no sense why you won't fuck me. We've been seeing each other for weeks now. You don't have to be a gentleman anymore."

A mocking laugh turned her face to stone. Faith withdrew another few inches, her brows screwed together as she continued straddling his lap. "It's got shit all to do with me being a gentleman, I can tell you that."

"You can tell me that? But you won't tell me why you won't have sex with me?"

"I told you, I'm not ready."

"Bullshit!" She exclaimed, nearly startling herself by the volume that leapt from her mouth. "What was with you coming to my job and teasing me? When you know I've been dying to... To..."

Her eyes welled up, and her bottom lip trembled. The next intake of breath rattled her throat. Faust had struck the sore spot once and for all.

"Dying to what? To fuck me? You've been dying to have sex with a guy your parents won't even let you see? Why? So you can fall in love with me and then have your father forbid me from seeing you? I'm not getting involved in that shit for a reason."

"And what's that reason?" Faith sniffled.

"Your dad is the kind of guy who'd call the cops on me for walking near his car. If he found out I fucked his precious daughter, betcha any money he'd come after me. And I don't want to have to put your dad in the hospital."

"That won't happen! He'll like you if he knows I like you. You just have to..."

"Change everything about myself?" Faust finished her sentence.

"No!" Faith said. "Maybe just don't wear the most graphic metal t-shirt you have and some blue jeans. He won't hate you."

"It doesn't matter. He's a preacher, and that's not what I'm about."

"Who cares? It doesn't have to be a thing if you don't make it one."

Faust studied her face, the slope of her nose, the eyelashes framing her eager eyes and every soft line and curve that had him enraptured with the girl. He sighed and kissed the tip of her nose. She tried to scrunch away, but couldn't deny the peck warmed her mood.

"You're pretty," said Faust.

"Shut up, I want to be mad at you," Faith pouted.

"I like you," he continued.

"Then why won't you?—"

"I want to have sex with you. I do. Trust me. But I want to meet your parents first."

Faith blinked, bewildered by his request. "But why?"

"I'd like to look the man in the eyes and shake his hand before I fuck his daughter," said Faust.

#faust x faith #faust stuff #valter skarsgard fanfiction

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wordsfromthesol · 5 years ago

Text

Neighbors (2/3)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: After a late night you realize you left your keys at work. You’ve heard your new neighbor frequently come in late at night, so you decide to try and see if he can help. Warnings: Language (per usual), blood & violence Word Count: 1.6k A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot...oh well. Part One Part Three

A week, nearly to the hour, had gone by without seeing Dick again when you heard a knock at the door. Still in bed, after another late-night surgery, you groaned as you pushed up from the bed and made your way to the door. You rubbed your eyes as you opened the door, realizing you probably should have checked through the peep hole before doing so. Before you knew what was happening, Dick Grayson sauntered into your apartment and sat on the couch.

“Sorry, did I wake you, doc?”

“Hmm…it’s fine. I got called in for a surgery late last night.”

“Seems to be a regular occurrence. Isn’t that how the key debacle happened?”

You nodded as you made your way to the bathroom to fetch your medical kit once again. You sat down and started working on the stitches.

“Being on-call at Gotham General pretty much means your working, it’s just a matter of when.” You continued to rant, half unaware in your sleep deprived state, “Between the vigilantes, crime lords, and run-of-the-mill thugs we get our fair share of work…at least it’s gone down a bit since Red Hood stopped shooting people. Bullets are never fun to deal with, and you have the shrapnel. Though the vigilantes stopping definitely doesn’t mean the criminals are…” you had finished with the stitches but couldn’t stop your mouth. You leaned back into the couch, eyes half closed as you continued, “I honestly don’t get how those guys do it. I mean, the bad guys don’t hesitate to kill…and then you have the outfits. I mean is spandex really comfortable? Why do so many vigilantes wear spandex –” your voiced faded as you drifted back into sleep.

Dick looked over at you with a faint smile on his face. Taking you in his arms, he walked you into the bedroom and placed you gently on the bed before covering you with the blankets you had haphazardly tossed aside earlier that morning. Dick probably stared at you, fast asleep, for a little too long before he made his way to the door, though he realized there was no way to lock it before leaving, and he felt weird about leaving via fire escape. He walked next door to grab his computer before coming back and setting up at her dining room table. “Might as well get some work done…” he mumbled to himself, walking over to make some coffee.

*****

You woke up a few hours later, dazed and confused. When did I go back to bed? Did I dream taking out Dick’s stitches? You walked out of your room, hand running through your hair when you jumped at the sight of Dick Grayson sitting at your dining room table with a cup of coffee.

“Making yourself at home, are we?”

“Oh, well you fell asleep…and there was no easy way to lock the door if I left…so I figured I’d just wait.”

“Because that’s not weird at all.” You walked over and poured your own mug of coffee before joining him at the table. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

“Missing persons case”

“Hmm, how long have they been missing?”

“Almost 48 hours”

“You think they still have a chance?” He looked up at you with curiosity spread across his features. “Don’t look at me like that, I deal with death and tragedy every day. Plus it’s not like I even know the person’s name.”

Dick turned his computer towards you, revealing a picture of a young girl, about twelves years in age. He watched as your eyes grew wide, “Got some sympathy now, doc?”

“It’s not that…I know her. Well not really know her, but she was in the hospital last night.” You took a sip of your coffee, “She was stable when I left the emergency room, whoever had her really did a number. Not sure how she got out alive.”

“Y/N, who brought her in?”

You shook your head, “I wasn’t there, got called in to help patch her up. I think…yeah Jackie was working.” You glanced at your watch, “She’s probably asleep now, I’ll text her to give me a call once she wakes up. The girl is probably still at the ER though.”

“I’m going to head there,” Dick closed his laptop and got up from the table before he paused, “You wouldn’t want to go with me, would you?”

“Sure, let me get dressed.” You walked back to your bedroom and threw on some jeans and threw on a random t-shirt before walking back to the living room. A smirk ran across Dick’s face. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, I just…I like your shirt.” You looked down an realized it was a black shirt with Nightwing’s symbol outlined in brilliant blue; though lots of people worn vigilante themed shirts, so you weren’t quite sure why this one made his face look like that.

You slipped on your tennis shoes by the door and grabbed your jacket off the hook. “Well, off we go. Your car or mine?” That smug look still hadn’t left his face when he answered.

“Mine.”

You took the elevator downstairs and stopped short as he approached a motorcycle.

“Seriously? No warning or anything Grayson?”

“What, you scared?” He chuckled as he tossed you the helmet.

“No, but don’t you need a helmet too? Maybe that’s why you’re so banged up.” You poked his chest as you climbed behind him on the bike.

“Somehow I think a helmet is the least of my worries. Hold on tight.” You didn’t want to admit that you had never been on a motorcycle before, but your death grip around his waist probably gave that away.

You didn’t realize that you had your eyes plastered shut through most of the ride, Dick however, did.

“Y/N, you know we’ve stopped right.”

You opened your eyes to realize that you were in the hospital parking garage. “Oh..uhm..yeah, just, ya’know making sure.” You tried to be nonchalant, but Dick saw right through you yet again.

“Right, well. We’ve stopped, I think you can loosen your grip a bit. Maybe we can go check on that missing girl.”

“Oh yeah, right.” You retracted your arms from his waist and swung your leg over the bike, while you took off the helmet. You realized you probably should’ve only done one at a time because you felt yourself beginning to fall off said bike, yet somehow you never hit the hard concrete. You pulled the helmet off and noticed Dick twisted around on the bike with his arm under your waist.

“Guess I should’ve waited to take off the helmet.” You chuckled, realizing Dick seemed frozen in that position, and realizing yet again there was nothing you could do to help get yourself out of that position. “Uhm…you getting in an arm workout, or are you going to help me out here?” Your question snapping Dick out of his fog.

“Oh right, sorry.” He pushed up against your back, allowing you to stand up.

“I think she was transferred to room 426 just as I was leaving last night…er…this morning.” You motioned for him to follow you inside, where you went directly to reception.

“Dr. Y/L/N, I didn’t think you were in today.”

“Quit with the formalities Caden, I’m not working. Just helping out a friend with Bludhaven PD. That girl that came in last night, what room is she in?”

“The Jane Doe?”

“Yeah.”

“Room 426.”

“Thought so, thanks Caden!” You called out as you headed towards the elevators, Dick following you like a lost puppy.

“So what do you know about the girl?”

“Hm…oh, she’s the daughter of some big-time financial advisor.”

“That’s it, she was tortured because of that? Come on Dick, even I know that’s bullshit.” The elevator doors opened, but Dick didn’t answer until the two of you were behind it’s closed doors.

“Alright,” he whispered barely moving his lips, “we are pretty sure her dad fixes the books for some pretty powerful mob bosses. And one of those books showed up at BPD two days ago, mere hours before his kid –” Dick stopped short as the elevator door opened at the fourth floor.

You exited the elevator and headed straight for room 426. “She’s still unconscious.”

“Yeah, but that’s definitely her.”

Your phone began to ring, you quickly answered when you saw Jackie’s name come across the screen. “Jackie, question for you about that Jane Doe from last night…yeah, that one…who brought her in?...Oh, alright…no that’s it…get some sleep girl.” You turned to Dick, “So a vigilante brought her in, that uhm, Red Hood guy.” You watched as Dick’s entire body tensed. “What, not a fan?”

“It’s not that…” Suddenly he grabbed your shoulder and pushed you to the ground, pointing at two large men in the hallway. You motioned to the girl and he nodded while putting up his hand for you to stay put. Dick crept towards the door, waiting for the assailants to enter the room. As the first one entered, he brought his arm down on the back of his head. The man collapsed in the doorway and Dick charged at the other. He shoved the heel of his hand at the man’s chest and then sunk to the ground kicking the man’s feet from under him. The second assailant fell backwards to floor. Dick walked back into the hospital room and turned towards you.

“Got any zip ties around here? I didn’t exactly bring my handcuffs…”

Still stunned by the events, you slowly rose from the ground and weaved your way around the unconscious men heading for the supply closet. You entered in your code and pulled zip ties out, handing them to Dick.

“Thanks doc. I’m going to call BPD, keep an eye on these guys for me.” All you could do was nod as he sauntered down the hallway.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing x you #batboys #batboys x you #batboys imagine

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bellakitse · 5 years ago

Text

Of cute beagles and decidedly cuter owners

For @gra-sonas who had this excellent post and let me use it. I hope this is fluffy enough for you, hon!

Michael, Rosa, Kyle, and Jenna just moved into a new place that doesn't allow pets, luckily across the street is the cutest beagle ever. Rosa is ready to plan a dog-nap, Michael suggests writing a note to the owner instead.

All Rosa wants is to play with Buffy, while all Michael wants is Buffy's owner.

Michael arrives home sometime after six p.m., the hallway of the modest townhouse he and his roommates moved into, still has boxes lying around. They've been in the two-story home for three weeks now. But with work and school, no one has found the time to finish unpacking. Michael has his new teaching post at the university while he works on his doctorate. Kyle has medical school. Jenna, a rookie cop, works crazy hours, and Rosa, their resident artist, has been using all her waking hours to work on a set of pieces she hopes will end up in the city’s next art exhibit. None of them have been particularly motivated to put boxes away, but Michael is starting to think he’s going to have to say something soon, or there’s a chance the boxes will become part of the décor.

“Guerin!” Jenna greets from the kitchen as he makes it into the living room. “Thai or Chinese for dinner?”

“Whatever Valenti doesn’t want,” he calls back out to her, smirking when he hears the man in question curse at him from the kitchen. He hears a chuckle and turns to find Rosa in her favorite spot of the house, the big bay windows. It was the selling point for Rosa when they decided to rent the place together.

“You have to start getting along with him eventually, Michael,” she says, not looking up from her sketching pad.

“Do I have to?” Michael questions as he drops his bag on the couch and walks over to her, lifting her legs to sit down. He leans over to sneak a peek at what she’s working on to find the drawing of a beagle.

“It would help,” Rosa says, a smirk on her face. “We did sign a one-year lease, you’re stuck until then.”

“Cute dog,” he points at her work, instead of acknowledging her comment.

“It belongs to the neighbor across the street, I saw them this morning,” she explains with a smile that turns into a frown moments later. “It sucks that we can’t have a pet here.”

Michael nods; he’s heard all three of his roommates complain about it. Their landlord had killed their hopes for a pet before they signed on the dotted line of their lease.

“I love that expression,” Michael points at the drawing, the beagle has an impressive resting bitch face.

Rosa laughs, nodding in agreement. “I only saw them for a second, but that face is memorable. I had to stop myself from running across the street to beg the owner to let me play with his dog, probably would have freaked the guy out.”

Michael chuckles at the comment, Rosa is the more impulsive one of them all, he could totally picture her on a puppy-high scaring some poor guy into thinking that he was going to get robbed for his dog.

“We just moved in, Rosa, can we maybe wait a few weeks before scaring off the neighbors?” he teases, laughing when she gives him an unimpressed look.

“You’re supposed to be the fun one, Michael,” Rosa pouts. “Kyle and Jenna are the strict, boring ones. You should be helping me plan a dog-nap.”

Michael opens his mouth, only to be interrupted by Kyle and Jenna walking into the living room.

“What’s this about a dog-napping?” Kyle questions, coming to sit down on the couch. Jenna sits next to him, leaning into his space. Her hair is messed up, and her lipstick smudged off, some of it transferred to Kyle’s white polo.

Michael and Rosa look at them, and then at each other, wrinkling their noses in distaste. This is what they get for moving in with a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Whatever you did in our kitchen, I hope you disinfected it,” Rosa comments still making a face. Michael nods in agreement, a part of him a little jealous of what Kyle and Jenna have. He wants someone to make out with in the kitchen, someone to smile at him the way Jenna and Kyle smile at each other. Something real, like what they have.

Kyle blushes under Rosa’s judging look, but Jenna just rolls her eyes, running her hand through Kyle's hair to settle him.

“Dog-napping, Rosa?” she questions, getting back on track.

“Oh!” Rosa lightens up at the mention, and Michael is starting to worry about just how serious she is. “The beagle across the street, it’s precious.”

“I saw it the other day,” Kyle says with a smile of his own. “Very cute dog.”

“Very cute owner, too,” Jenna comments, tugging on Kyle’s hair when he pouts, it says more than Michael needs to know about their relationship.

“True,” Rosa agrees after a moment, thinking about it. “But not so cute that I’m not totally willing to steal his dog.”

“We haven’t even been here a month,” Michael speaks before Rosa can really get going. “Let’s not commit a crime just yet.”

Rosa exhales loudly like she thinks he’s the biggest party-pooper ever, for not encouraging the stealing of an animal. “What do you suggest then? Because I need to cuddle that dog, bad.”

Michael thinks for a moment before his eyes light up with an idea. He pulls Rosa’s sketch pad and pencil out of her lap. “We can write the owner a note asking if we can meet his dog,” Michael suggests, quickly composing the letter when no one says no. “Dog people understand crazy dog love.”

“Tell them they have the best dog,” Rosa instructs him.

“Ask what treats it likes,” Kyle chips in, getting into it.

“We can take it for a walk if they’re too busy,” Jenna adds, just as excited.

He finishes the note, signing it with all their names and adding Rosa’s drawing. “There. I’ll drop it off in the morning,” he says satisfied, the others nod seemingly pleased themselves. “Now, about dinner…”

Michael doesn’t think about it the next day, he tapes the note to their neighbor’s front door and goes to the university where he spends the day teaching freshmen in his Engineering Physics class. It’s only when he gets back home and finds Rosa practically vibrating with excitement that he even remembers about their neighbor and their dog.

“They wrote back, Michael!” she shouts as soon as he walks through the door, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“Who?”

“Buffy Manes!” Rosa exclaims, rolling her eyes at him when he doesn’t answer. “That’s the beagle’s name, look they left a note.”

Michael takes the piece of paper, instantly charmed by the paw print on the back.

It starts:

‘To my new friends, Michael, Rosa, Kyle and Jenna’

Thank you for your nice letter! It made my tail wag all night. The drawing was so good, whoever drew it is very talented, a perfect likeness.

My name is Buffy Manes, and I’m 4-years-old. I love treats of any kind. I love playing catch, -tennis balls are my favorite- and digging holes.

I am the bestest girl! Thank you for noticing, my dad tells me that every day.

I would very much like to meet my new friends, so I’m giving you my dad’s number, call any time.

Sincerely,

Buffy and Alex Manes

505-718-2035

“Okay,” Michael starts, a smile tugging at his face. “This is seriously fucking cute.”

“She liked my drawing,” Rosa says happily, which Michael finds hilarious. “And her name is Buffy, how adorable is that? If it’s for Buffy, the vampire slayer, this Alex guy is my new best friend. He has the cutest dog and good taste in 90’s tv shows, we need to call them, now.”

“What about Kyle and Jenna?”

Rosa waves his question away. “They went on a date,” she says, tugging at his shirt impatiently. “Let’s call.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs as he pulls out his phone and dials the number, ringing a few times before someone picks up.

“Manes,” greets a deep voice that makes Michael stand up straighter as it sends a shiver up his spine. That is a very nice voice.

“Um, hi, Alex?” he starts, suddenly nervous. “This is Michael, your neighbor from across the street, my roommates and I left you a note about your dog, Buffy?”

“Right,” Alex says, letting out a soft chuckle. “With the drawing, it was really good.”

“Thanks,” Michael says, grunting when Rosa pokes him. “That was Rosa, she’s the artist, and she’s in love with your dog.”

“You’re not?” Alex questions, sounding a little offended.

“I’m actually the only one of my roommates that hasn’t seen Buffy,” he admits, as Alex makes an amused noise. “But I’m sure she’s great, her letter was perfect. Did it take long to teach her how to write?”

Alex laughs, making Michael feel pleased and oddly proud. “No, she’s a genius, it took no time at all.”

“Well you should be very proud,” he jokes getting another laugh out of Alex. “So anyway, we were hoping that we could arrange that meet-up with Buffy, and you, of course, any time you want,” he rushes to say, ignoring the way Rosa is looking at him.

“We’re home now,” Alex starts, a little hesitant. “If you want to come over.”

“Now?” Michael questions to which Rosa starts nodding vigorously. “It would just be Rosa and me, Kyle and Jenna are out, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes, sounding more at ease. “That’s probably better actually, I don’t do great with a lot of people. We’ll meet you two outside in 10?”

“Okay,” Michael says quickly. “See you guys in a few, thanks.”

“Not a problem, Michael,” Alex says before hanging up. He decides then and there that he likes the way Alex says his name.

“Were you really flirting with a stranger over the phone?” Rosa questions incredulously.

“No!” Michael denies, blushing when Rosa raises an eyebrow at him. “Maybe?”

Rosa shakes her head at him, amused more than anything else. “Keep your head in the game Guerin, we are in it for the dog. Let’s go.”

Michael follows Rosa out of their home, she’s practically shaking by the time they cross the street and open Alex’s gate.

“Don’t freak them out,” he warns. “Alex said he’s not the best with people.”

“I’ll behave,” she promises just as their neighbor’s door opens.

A robust beagle comes out first, followed by what has to be the most beautiful man Michael has ever seen. He has tousled dark hair, big deep brown eyes, cheekbones that could cut glass, and full pink lips quirked up into a hesitant smile. The rest of him is perfect too, strong shoulders and arms, wrapped in a soft-looking grey Henley, and he’s in a pair of black jeans that hug his legs nicely. As he takes a step forward, Michael notices the crutch in his left hand.

“Michael, Rosa?” he questions as he comes down two short steps, standing before them.

“Hi,” Michael breathes, if possible, Alex is even more gorgeous up close, especially when he smiles at Michael.

“Hi,” he greets back at him, before looking at Rosa to give her a smile of her own. “Well, you didn’t come to see me,” he says, looking down at his dog, who is standing faithfully at his side, waiting. “This is Buffy.”

Buffy looks up at him at her name.

“They’re here for you, baby girl,” he speaks to her. “Greet.”

The moment Alex says the command, Buffy leaves his side, making her way toward Rosa as she gets down to her knees to pet her. Buffy’s tail starts wagging excitedly the second Rosa starts to pet her.

“Who’s a good girl,” Rosa coos at Buffy. “You are, you’re such a good girl, so sweet.”

“She’s a therapy dog,” Alex tells them with a proud look on his face as he watches his dog. Michael bends down too, letting Buffy sniff his hand first, chuckling when she starts to lick it.

“She’s very friendly,” Michael comments, looking up at Alex, his breath catching when he finds Alex’s eyes on him.

Alex nods, his expression soft. “She likes to make friends.”

“We can be her friends,” Rosa says quickly, as she rubs the top of Buffy’s head, looking back at Alex. “Her name? Is it because of the show?”

“Yeah, when my friend Maria and I picked her at the shelter, she said that Buffy would slay my demons,” Alex says with a slight laugh. “It stuck, so I named her Buffy.”

Michael bites down on his lip as he stands up, he does it to keep from asking what Alex’s demons are, wanting to know everything about him.

The rest of the visit, they’re on Alex’s porch. Rosa plays with Buffy, while Michael stares at Alex like an idiot as he tells them cute anecdotes about his dog. He shares a little bit about himself with them, each tidbit Michael stores away for later. He learns that Alex was in the Air Force until he got hurt. Alex knocks on his leg, which Buffy responds by leaving the belly rubs Rosa is giving her to press her small head against her owner’s leg. The gesture obviously meant to comfort him, which going by the smile on Alex’s face it does. He still does military work but as a private contractor and mostly from home and has had Buffy since his enlistment ended, and he hasn’t been in town too long, only a few months.

“I don’t really know much around here,” he comments with a shrug. “The base, the market, and the dog park, but that’s pretty much it.”

“I can show you around,” Michael blurts out before he can stop himself, he feels himself go hot as he feels Rosa’s eyes burn into the side of his face. He knows the second they’re alone; she’s going to mock the hell out of him.

Alex starts to smile only to look over at Rosa. “Umm,” Alex begins nervously, and Michael realizes with surprising clarity that Alex thinks they’re together.

Luckily Rosa seems to notice too, jumping in before he can make a fool of himself. “You guys should go,” she says with a grin. “This loser barely goes out himself, it’s just home and the university for him. Sad, really.”

“You’re just as bad as me,” he argues, trying to defend himself. “When’s the last time you went out?”

“Last week,” Rosa says smugly. “I met up with that hot blonde who modeled for me a few weeks ago, she showed me her portfolio,” she continues, waggling her eyebrows which makes Alex laugh. “You guys could go get a bite, and I can stay and hang with Buffy.”

Alex smirks at her, his eyes dancing with amusement. “That’s really what you’re after, isn’t it?”

“I’ll be honest, you can turn out to be Dahmer and eat Guerin,” Rosa says bluntly, ignoring him when he makes a noise of protest. “I’m cool as long as I get to keep playing with your dog.”

Alex looks at her, letting out a low whistle.

“As you can see, I need better friends,” Michael says, shooting Rosa a glare. “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

Alex bites down on his bottom lip, and it takes everything in Michael not to lean in and do it for him. “Now?”

Michael nods. “No time like the present.”

Alex smiles softly at him, there is a slight rosy color on his cheeks that makes Michael’s heart skip a beat. “Okay, let me get my wallet.”

“And I get to watch Buffy?” Rosa asks hopefully, as he stands. “I’ll take real good care of her, give you picture updates and everything.”

Alex looks at Rosa for a moment before nodding, his amusement obvious. “Sure, she’s really mellow, so I don’t see it being a problem if you really want to watch her.”

“Alex, you’re my new best friend,” Rosa says with a serious expression on her face.

“I’m sure that would mean more to him if you hadn’t just offered your current best friend up to be eaten,” Michael grumbles at her.

Alex laughs as he heads inside.

“This is where you say thank you,” Rosa whispers at him.

Michael frowns at her.”You did nothing,” he answers, getting a snort back.

“I just wing-womaned the shit out of this,” Rosa gripes. “You were just staring at him like a smitten idiot.”

Michael hates that he can’t argue with the truth, and in a fit of childishness, sticks his tongue out at her.

“Mature,” Rosa laughs as Alex comes back.

He gives them a curious look as he closes his door, leash in hand. “We usually go for a walk at seven,” he says, handing Rosa the leash after attaching it to Buffy. “She likes the park two blocks away.”

Rosa nods as she starts walking towards the gate with Buffy. He and Alex follow behind them, crossing the street back to their place where his truck is parked.

“We’ll go for a lovely walk, don’t worry,” Rosa promises.

Alex kneels down to rub Buffy under her chin, getting a lick for his troubles.

“Be good Buffy, I’ll be back soon,” he says tenderly before pressing a kiss on the top of her head, it makes something inside Michael flutter behind his ribcage.

Standing back to his feet, he walks over to Michael, giving him a charmed look when Michael opens the door of his truck for him.

“Have fun you two,” Rosa tells them as Michael puts the car in drive. She picks up Buffy and heads inside.

“You just made her night,” he tells Alex as he starts to drive downtown.

“I’m glad,” Alex answers, flashing him a smile. “You said in your note that you guys can’t have pets?”

“Grumpy landlord,” Michael explains.

Alex makes a face. “That really sucks. I got lucky, my landlady didn’t seem big on pets either, I wasn’t even going to interview for the place, but I brought Buffy with me and explained that she’s my therapy dog and I guess Buffy won her over. It’s hard resisting her face.”

“Probably hard resisting yours too,” Michael blurts out, already cringing before the words are completely out of his mouth. He keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Alex, but after a moment of silence, he can’t help but sneak a peek at him. There’s a shy smile on Alex’s face, and his eyes are welcoming as he looks back at Michael, making him feel more confident to continue. “It’s a very nice face.”

Alex’s smile grows until he’s laughing softly, shaking his head at Michael's boldness. “You have a very nice face too, Michael.”

Michael grins to himself, his heart beating faster with excitement. He parks the car outside his favorite Mexican restaurant. “Hope you like tacos,” he says as he gets out, going around the car to Alex’s door.

“Are you even allowed to live in New Mexico if you don’t like tacos?” he questions, passing Michael his crutch. He gets out, and Michael reaches out his hand at his waist to steady him, his body responding instantly when Alex lets out a small gasp at his touch.

Michael lifts his eyes to Alex’s face, finding his gaze already on him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and Mickael knows Alex just felt the same spark he did at their touch. He steps in closer, crowding Alex in the door, his pulse spiking when Alex’s eyes drift down to his mouth.

“Proposal,” he starts, his voice low.

Alex hums softly, his body seemed to sway, brushing against his, his eyes half-closed.

“We turn this into a date,” Michael suggests, smiling at the surprised but happy look Alex gives him.

“How does it differ?” Alex questions with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Michael squeezes the side of Alex, where his hand still rests. “I get to kiss you at the end of the night,” he answers, inhaling sharply when Alex closes the small space between them, brushing his lips against Michael’s.

Alex takes his crutch and Michael’s hand leading him into the restaurant.

“You should text Rosa,” he throws over his shoulder, giving Michael’s hand a squeeze.

“Why?” Michael asks, still a little dazed from the touch of Alex’s lips.

A couple of hours is too fast to fall in love, right?

Alex turns back to him, a beautiful smile on his even more beautiful face, and Michael decides that, no, a couple of hours is more than enough time to fall in love with Alex Manes.

“To tell her that starting tonight, she’s going to have plenty of opportunities to borrow Buffy if I get to borrow her roommate.”

Michael grins, pulling out his phone even as he pulls Alex back into another kiss, this one deeper and longer as he takes his time, enjoying the taste and the sounds Alex makes. Rosa will be pleased with the arrangement, and he’s good with it too.

#roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #buffy manes

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nothingeverlost · 5 years ago

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Fic: Out of the Ordinary (Penny for your thoughts verse)

I’ve been doing a lot of rereading of fics, and it’s made me want to go back and fill in holes in the timelines. I thought this was a piece fo the story that I needed to tell. Timeline wise this is before Belle leaves.

II “Closing time, Gabe. You’re coming over for dinner tonight and the roast is already in the oven.” David leaned in the doorway of the office.

“I don’t remember making dinner plans.” In fact he’d made the opposite of plans. Belle was spending the evening with Archie; they’d missed their weekly Doctor Who viewing twice now and planned for a marathon night of pizza and British tv. There was no reason for him to head home for hours; he could read through his old notes and if he was hungry there was a sandwich in the fridge.

“That’s because Mary Margaret is the one that made the dinner plans. I’m just the messenger.” David sat on the corner of the desk, reaching over to close the file folder on top of the pile. “She says she’s worried we’re working too hard, which is probably true, but really I think it’s the cabin fever talking. She’s glad to have this time off with Neal but she also misses teaching.”

“Don’t you want to have time just with your wife? We see each other enough.” Too much, lately, considering the hours they had been working.

“This is about my wife wanting to see other people. Not like that,” David admonished before Gabe could made a sarcastic comment. “If you’re really my friend you’ll come and talk about something other than diapers and whether it’s a real smile or gas.”

“I was going to…”

“Obsess over the case some more, like we haven’t been for weeks now?” They’d been living the case for weeks now. It was ugly enough to know what was happening without adding on the fact that the man they’d dubbed Hook had already escaped from them once. It had taken seven years before he’d reamurged, and already another three women were dead. They couldn’t let him escape again. They were close enough that they’d saved his last intended target. They needed to figure out his next move. The last body they’d found had belonged to a girl that was barely nineteen. Gabe couldn’t stop remembering the look in Ursula’s father’s eyes when he learned that she had been found, but too late.

“I don’t suppose your wife would believe that I’m coming down with something and don’t dare see the child, would she?”

“Nope. Besides it’s your job to hold your godkid once in a while. And change a diaper, if the timing is right. Come on, Gold. Don’t make me pull rank on you.” David stood as if the decision was already made. Gabe sighed, knowing there wasn’t anything to be gained from arguing. David wouldn’t let him stay at work; he was devious, and might even resort to calling Belle.

“Any seniority you have is in name only, Nolan.” He reached for his jacket, though, and settled for taking a handful of files in his briefcase for later. He should have time after dinner for some studying, before Belle came home. Or she might decide to stay at her apartment for the night if she was tired, though that didn’t happen often anymore.

He had to admit, an hour later, that leaving work wasn’t the worst idea. The smell of pot roast greated him when he arrived just a few minutes before David. Mary Margaret welcomed him with her usual pleasantness and a hint of relief, and was happy to hand over her burbling son. In the last five months Gabe had held baby Neal more than he’d held any infant in more than a decade combined. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In an unusual show of good timing Neal had decided to sleep through dinner, and the three adults had discussed anything they thought of that didn’t involve murder, rape, or kidnappings. It was a much more pleasant evening than the one he’d originally planned.

Until the phone call.

“It’s Archie,” Gabe said when Mary Margaret looked like she wanted to say something about ignoring it. Taking some time away from work was an entirely different than from ignoring a team member’s call, especially when said team member was spending time with his girlfriend. “If you’re calling for a tiebreaker again I don’t know or care which Master is the best one.”

“I was calling to see if Belle was with you.” At Archie’s response Gabe’s grin faded.

“I haven’t seen Belle since she left work. She’s supposed to be with you.” It had been over two hours since she’d poked her head into his office and teasingly invited him to join her marathon. She’d known he would say no, just like he knew that it was important for her and Archie to have time on their own to relax and bond. Two hours; even with traffic and stopping for pizza she should have been home almost an hour ago. “Are you just now getting there?”

“I knocked a little more than twenty minutes ago but she didn’t answer so I waited in my car. I called but she’s not picking up. And I think…”

Gabe took a breath before asking, not sure he wanted the answer. “What do you think?”

“I think I hear her phone ringing from inside when I call her. She’s not answering, Gold, and there’s no lights on inside. She had her phone with her at work today.” He sounded stressed, which wasn’t uncommon but it also wasn’t usually unfounded.

“I need you to lock the doors of your car. If you’re not in your car you need to get in it and lock the doors. I’m at David’s; we’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Fifteen minutes was too long. Five minutes was too long, but there was nothing he could do about it except try and make sure Archie was safe. “I have to go.”

“Archie’s in trouble?” David was already pushing back from the table, pausing only long enough to kiss his wife’s head as he paused next to her chair.

“Belle isn’t home and she’s not answering her phone.” He didn’t even have to look at his phone to hit the speed-dial button that connected him to her. Four rings and he was listening to her cheerful voice asking him to leave a message.

“Maybe she stopped at a bookstore on her way home. You know how she gets when she’s in one of those places.” David didn’t sound confident, but it was a pretty story that he wished he believed. “We’re taking my car.”

“I drive faster.” He had more than a few speeding tickets to his name. The faster they got to Belle’s the sooner they would know something. There were too many ideas already in his head of what could have happened. Too many images from past cases.

“And I’m more likely to get us there in one piece. You can call Graham and Emma.” David wouldn’t accept an argument and after a moment’s hesitation Gold wasn’t about to offer one.

“Call me when you know anything. I’ll be awake.” Neal started fussing, and Mary Margaret scooped up her son as they headed for the door. “Please be careful. All of you.”

The street was lit up with sirens when they arrived, everything glowing in a familiar but unsettling red and blue. Two police cars blocked off the road in front of Belle’s apartment. Graham had already arrived, talking to a distraught looking Archie.

“Emma’s inside.” Graham nodded at the open apartment door. “No signs of Belle but her phone is here.”

Under other circumstances Gabe might have raised an eyebrow over the fact that both Emma and Graham had arrived when Graham lived over half an hour away. It didn’t even register that Graham hadn’t been at home when the call had come. Gabe headed straight for the apartment, where all the lights were blazing now. He tried not to think that their crime scene was being trampled by the local LEOs. he tried not to think that it could be a crime scene.

“Emma, tell us what we know so far.” The moment they entered the living room David took charge, ignoring the cops for his teammate.

“Her phone was in the kitchen. Her car is in the underground lot. She’s been home tonight. Maybe there’s a chance she went out for a run, or took a Lyft somewhere.” Emma looked every inch the professional despite the fact that she’d changed into jeans and thrown a blazer over a t-shirt. It was only when you looked at her eyes that you could see how worried she was. “We haven’t found her keys yet.”

“She and Archie had plans. She wouldn’t do that without calling him.” He hadn’t read many of the books on the bookcases that lined one of the walls of the room, but he’d touched them. Teased her about finding a few of his own titles there, next to Jane Austen as the organization system made no sense to anyone but Belle. He’d sat on that couch, napped on it, made love with Belle on it. The room was intimately familiar and yet it felt alien. Gabe couldn’t seem to focus on what might be different, what might be a clue. Without Belle it was all different.

For the first time one of the officers spoke up. “Is she seeing anyone? Perhaps she’s with…”

“No.” The cop was wise enough not to push any further.

“Officer, would you all please canvas the neighbors? We’ll look inside; Agent French is one of ours.” David, thankfully, was able to clear the room in just a few minutes. Gabe walked toward the kitchen. The phone was still on the counter. Belle’s phone, standard issue except for the bright blue case that she’d found with a rose on the back. She’d been home. There was a u-bake pizza in the fridge; she’d stopped on her way home. There was no reason for her to leave. Not unless she wasn’t given a choice.

“Gold?” Emma was close. Too close, for him not to notice that she’d approached him.

“All I can see is that she’s not here.” Not where she belonged. He gripped the edge of the counter as if it was all that was holding him up.

“No, it’s not. Look, Gold. No one but Belle knows this space better than you. There’s something. Anything out of the ordinary could help us find her. And we will find her, I swear we will.” They both knew it could be a lie. No one was safe from the monsters, but that was why fairy tales existed.

Gold took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He needed to be better than his best. He needed to use everything he knew. He needed to find her.

“She comes through the back door when she parks in the garage. Only uses the front when there’s street parking. The pizza is new, and the wine. We can use that to work a timeline.” Everything was so neat, no sign of a struggle. Of anyone else. It was just as it should be, except there was no Belle. “I don’t see her purse, that brown leather one. You said her keys are missing.”

“I did. The phone was the only thing that told me she’d been home. That and the food you said wasn’t here earlier. There’s not much in the fridge. No milk or creamer, no leftovers.” Emma opened the fridge again. The pizza, wine, and a couple of sodas were the only thing on the top shelf.

“She doesn’t eat here much.” He’d been working up to asking her to make it permanent. There was no reason for her to pay rent when all her time not spent on the road was spent at his house.

“Any chance she’s at your place now? You weren’t there tonight, were you?”

“Mary Margaret made a roast. She was about to serve dessert.” For a moment he let himself believe, but it didn’t make any sense. “Graham can go check, he knows the security code.”

“David’s sending Archie back to the office. He can do a check on Belle’s credit cards, trace any calls. Everyone’s working on this, Gold. The whole team.” The touch on his shoulder was light, and rare. They didn’t touch often, the two of them.

“Not the whole team.” Gabe wasn’t even sure that Emma was around to hear him. It didn’t matter; they were all aware of the void.

“She came through the back door,” he muttered to himself. He’d come in the front, and hadn’t seen anything. Reaching into a pocket for one of the gloves he always kept handy he slipped it on and reached for the back door’s handle. It wasn’t locked. The porch light, however, was not only off but broken. Unlike the neighbors and their dim yellow bulbs Belle’s light had been a bright white. And her lock was difficult for even an expert lockpick. She was a single woman living alone that was far too aware of what could happen to single women living alone. She was careful.

The light on his phone wouldn’t be enough to search too far, but it at least lit up her back porch. There was little to see. Most of the shattered glass had been kicked aside. There were no keys, no purse, no Belle. There was something wet on the middle step. Not rain, as it was a clear night. Not from the sprinklers, too far away. Gabe crouched down and touched the dampness, holding it up to his nose. The smell of cheap rum was distinct. His knee gave out and he fell back, his head hitting the wall. He didn’t notice any pain, and wasn’t granted the temporary reprieve of unconsciousness.

“No.” Please no, it couldn’t be true.

“Gabe?” David stood on the porch, the lights from inside the kitchen illuminating half his face.

“He has her. Killian Jones has Belle.” He knew without question that Graham would find his house dark. That Belle was somewhere darker, colder, farther away. That she was at the mercy of a man that already had seven dead women to his name. Archie wouldn’t find anything on her credit cards. They had stopped Jones from taking a victim, so he had taken one of theirs.

#verse: penny for your thoughts #rumbelle fic #my fic #anti-h00k #angst #in my defense Bella this is something that's already happened #it's canon #and remember it gets better

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chezzkaa · 6 years ago

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Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 3200+ Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

Your bag hits the floor with a loud thud, but it’s nothing in comparison to the beat your heart sings too. You’d hoped it would quieten once Ryan wasn’t around, but the sound that rushed through your chest had followed you home. Up the snow banks and stairs, and through the lodge until it stands in front of you. Granting it your attention, it sings for a few more minutes before eventually fading with the nervous smile you put out of your mind. Absent fingers dive into your pocket, pulling out two small, smooth and dark stones, passing them across one another in your hand. Flashes of the gold inscribed against their surface sees you calming, tight giddiness in the centre of your chest relaxing. It doesn’t dim the smile, but it’s enough to think straight.

Then your phone is pressed to your ear, waiting for the distant rings while you continue to fold the stones. Your best friend’s voice greets you after the click, making your heart leap and the smile on your lips widen into a grin.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?”

You try and sound as flippant as possible, suppressing the excited stretch of your lips. “Oh, hey Lauren, how’s life-”

She cuts you off, familiar with the tone and willing to take none of your teasing. “What’s his name?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Y/N. What’s his name?”

“How rude,” you hedge through a smile, “my energies are struggling in this new environment and my stones need charging, and you think I’m all foggy because of some-”

“Shut up, Y/N. I know damn well that your energies are fucked, I can feel it all the way from here. Stick your fucking stones in the moonlight, damn it. But don’t you dare try and get out of this. What’s the fuck’s name?”

“Ryan,” you cave, the eager blip fluttering in your chest seeing you glare at the stones, abandoning them on the windowsill in the hopes bathing in the moon will help. “Stupid fucking things, I swear ever since I’ve moved they’ve been acting up. I tried using them the other morning, right? And nothing, absolutely nothing. They’re not even touching the weird fuzzy whatever-the-fuck thing is going on and making me feel kinda out of it. But oh my god dude, he’s amazing. His eyes are so fucking blue, Loz, and oh my god his fucking smile!”

“Spill, spill! So help me, Y/N, if I don’t get every juicy detail I’m gonna fly to those mountains and-”

But you don’t give her to opportunity to finish, pouring your heart into the phone line, agonising over every description, every flirtatious smile, and every heart skipping laugh. “His puns are fucking terrible.”

“Marry him,” she demands, “marry him right now.”

“I’ll make sure to propose as soon as I get to work tomorrow.”

“Wait, he’s your coworker?”

“Lauren,” you fold the words over slowly, feeling her excitement vibrate against your cheek, “he’s practically my boss.”

“YOUR BOSS?! Fuck, Y/N.”

“I know!” you throw yourself sideways, splaying across the couch and grinning at the ceiling. “Trust me, I know. But hey, enough about me. My face is gonna fucking split if I keep thinking about it. Speaking of bosses, how are things with you? How’s Trevor?”

It’s her turn to gush, voice quickening with her enthusiasm. “Dude. DUDE. Cus of you guys moving and shit he decided to take me out. We got all dressed up, and I mean dressed up. Heels, black lipstick - I looked like I might kill a bitch. And bitch, I might. But he picks me up and we’re driving, right? And he pulls into a burger joint. My favourite burger joint. So we’re sat there in this grease filled room surrounded by people in pj’s while I’m in this fucking expensive dress and he’s in this hot as fuck tux and bow tie, and Y/N?”

“Don’t tell me,” you giggle, “you fucking loved it, right?”

“I FUCKING LOVED IT.”

---

It takes a while for you to start moving, slumping off the couch and to your knees. Shuffling towards the fireplace, it's as simple as lighting a match; last night's set up of tinder and newspaper catching almost instantly. Lost in the hypnotic flames and the comfort your best friend is always able to provide without even trying, the room is engulfed in amber; warmth wrapping its arms around you as you wander to the kitchen, flick on the kettle, and get a cup ready. Scrounging up what the herbal ingredients you’ve stashed inside the island counter, you’re careful when measuring out quantities, muttering under your breath before starting your tea. A few quick stirs and deep inhales levels you, the feeling of the floor far more solid beneath your feet.

It's only once you draw your bag closer that you stop, tea pressed to your lips and fingers coming across something smooth.

Drawing the folder out of your bag, you stare at the file. It’s worryingly large. Jam packed with stapled sheets and post it notes, paper clips so heavy the top threatens to fold under the weight. Turning it over in your hands, you come to face the case printed on the front before you drop it like you’ve been stung. Your palm burns, recoiling away as the energy that’d started to smoulder diminishes. Still, the title glares from the floor, demanding your attention as it screams.

Case no. 30574208 Head in Charge: Det. Insp. J. Dooley Lumberjack of Motbury Active: 2016 -

It’s not the whole file - but it doesn’t have to be; because you can already see the first name poking from beneath the discoloured card. Can already see the smallest section of a lime green coat littered with tiny frogs, caught in the corner frame of a photograph. Can already feel a painful sting encasing your neck uncomfortably. A sharp pain that shoots through the centre of the back of your skull, harsh and demanding.

You’re on your feet in an instant, circling it as though it’s going to lash out with quick, erratic steps. But it doesn’t. It stays deathly still, like the bodies you’re sure remain buried within it. Just photos, sketches blotched with trauma and cross hatched with wounds while the real things rot in the morgue.

As quickly as you were moving you’re stopping again, cold despite the heat that leaves you suddenly sweltering, skin slick with sweat beneath the numerous layers plastered to your body.

You know what will happen when you pick it up again. It’s going to consume you, you think reproachfully, discarding the offending fabric that has you struggling to breathe, shedding and strewing it across the living room. It’s going to destroy you, just like last time. And just like last time, you won’t be able to help them.

You’d realised what being a detective meant a long time ago, and you’ll never forget. Never be able to ignore the fact that for you to do your job, people had to die. Names had to stack up so you could find the pattern, so you could ram their faces beneath the suspect and hope for some crack in their facade. Hope that one would die covered in stains, or with fingernails chock full of DNA. And when you’d come to rely on a tiny body still clinging to the crime that had seen it taken too soon, you’d been sick. So violently that you’d shaken for weeks. So violently that everything you ate came back up, so you just stopped eating.

And you could feel it. Feel every sharp wound and tattered bullet hole, limbs so restless that you’d wanted to scream.

Never again, you’d sworn, never fucking again would you pray that the next body would be more broken than the last for the benefit of another. You don’t care if one death could save the many. It didn’t fucking matter if that tiny, tiny person held the key to stopping the next body arriving on the coroner’s doorstep; because a life had still been lost. You’d hoped for it, you’d felt it, because it’s what you needed to do your job.

A shock of pain shoots through your scalp as your hand swipes through your hair, the old habits of stress already seeing you pull too hard. Gingerly withdrawing your hand, the clump of hair caught between your fingers is enough to spur you forward. Snatching the file from the floor you toss it on the counter, completely intent on storming into the station and ramming it down Dooley’s throat.

But you stop as it falls open, the photo staring at the ceiling far too familiar to ignore. You approach it as though it’s explosive, peering at the treeline you see outside your window every morning, covered in red markings and arrows. Taking it in your hand, you flip the photo over and read the notes jotted on the back with a falling stomach and burning palm.

17/04/2018

Body, male 10 yo (no. 6). Found 500 meters past tree line. Footprints entering. None leaving. Within vicinity of victim 3 and 5. Wounds consistent. Small incision at base of neck. Lacerations.

You recognise the handwriting. Jeremy’s scrawl had always been all over your notes, and the later he’d stayed at the office, the worse it had gotten. The curves of his ‘g’s and ‘y’s are clumsy, ink smudging as he’s forced his numb, tired fingers to write down another death. Number 6. And now you have to look, have to see the body that’d reduced him to such sloppy functionality. The body found just beyond your treeline only a week before you’d moved in.

It’s the lime green coat again, tiny frogs leaping across the thick, puffed fabric donned by a smiling little boy. Mousey blonde hair sticks out at every angle, but he doesn’t seem to care, brown eyes wrinkling in delight while he laughs. You don’t want to look at the picture behind it, but you do. Taking in the tiny body curled in the snow, knees tucked into his chest. If he wasn’t wearing the coat, you wouldn’t be able to tell it’s the small boy from before. Tom, you tell yourself. Number 6. Tom.

You’ve seen a lot in your professional career, seen more vile, disturbing acts of violence than many can even dream of existing. Felt them prickle across your skin and scratch in your veins, itchy and raw. But this was more perplexing than it was nauseating, but it’s more certainly both of those things. Because rather than a beaten face covered in blonde and bloodied hair, there’s simply nothing at all.

The neck just… stops.

The wound is there, granted. But it isn’t messy. Blood and gore doesn’t coat the snow, nor does it soil the jacket. But it’s not a clean cut, either. Tattered around the edges, curling, bruised and blackened. Sagging.

And they’re all the same. As you search through the file’s contents you can’t find a single child with a head. Every body found in the same position, curled up as though they were sleeping. Found in the woods directly surrounding your home.

No wonder this place was so cheap to buy.

Curiosity burns intense over your concern, sitting heavily on one of the stools surrounding the island and shifting through the papers. The more you try to understand, the more confusing the case becomes. No matter how many times you fold it over in your head, you can’t comprehend the information you’re taking in. Only able to feel the pinch at the base of your skull, and a terrifying calm that numbs your chest and makes it harder to breathe.

And honestly it sounds more like an urban legend to scare children into behaving, or scare parents into disciplinary action. Because it just doesn’t make sense.

At first, it seems, the police force was inundated with complaints. Petrified townsfolk calling in as a snow storm rages through the night, the sound of knocking hammering against their doors. None dared answer. A group of kids messing around, you assume. And you notice that Jeremy had thought the same. Or perhaps a lost traveller caught in the harsh weather and seeking help. But there were no one there in the morning. Porches untouched by the snow but tattered by something, deep grooves tracing the frames of the entrance with vicious brutality. Camera’s cut out and sensory lights left undisturbed.

And then the trail of death started. Livestock, in the beginning. Bloody, brutal maulings that eventually left sheep with lolling necks and a glaringly absent skull - as though the bone has been sucked from the skin. But what bothers you isn’t the carnage, nor the senseless violence that has an animal killed and unused.

It’s the damage, the aggression once the creature was obviously dead. You can see it; can feel just how frenzied it all was. It’s not the first time, either. Every case you’ve witnessed like this leaves you with only one thought. Passionate, you’d argue. Angry. But the closer the timeline gets to the current date, the cleaner the kills become. Until they stop all together.

And the kids start disappearing.

The first one was just as messy as the livestock. Beaten and bloody, a pile of skin the only remnants of a face. But eventually, even that too disappeared. Like whoever it was, was getting better. Getting into the rhythm.

Your stomach twists, staring down at the file you’ve scattered across your counter.

It’s going to consume you, a small, defeated voice whispers in your head while you collect the pages, taking them to the scanner and copying the file before arranging it back the way you’d found it. It’s going to destroy you, just like last time. And just like last time, you won’t be able to help them.

You head for the car once you’re done, not bothering to wrap up against the cold.

---

The station isn’t fancy, barely recognisable as a place of authority when nestled between the other buildings. But regular shop fronts don’t normally have this many patrol vehicles lined up out front. 2, you correct while your foot meets the curb, only 2 cars. The late night doesn’t both you, and neither does the sterile atmosphere you step into. It’s a small space that offers a short line of chairs before the room is cut off by a reception desk, sliding glass protector open wide. Behind the divide you can see what you assume to be the staff room dotted with couches, and offices and files on the opposite side.

The door shuts gentle behind you, and with it’s quiet click you can hear the frustrated voices approaching the room. You don’t wait for them to arrive and beckon you forward, already moving to the reception and leaning against the ledger.

“I’m serious, Michael,” comes Jeremy’s exasperation through the walls, “I swear I just fucking had the damn thing.”

“Obviously not, asshole,” replies Michael smugly, “otherwise we wouldn’t be turning the station upside down.”

“I don’t get it. I had it at Jon’s, had it when I got into the car…”

“So you must’ve lost it on the way in this morning.”

“But I didn’t do anything else with it!” cries Jeremy, finally rounding the corner with his head hung in defeat.

“You must’ve,” insists Michael, coming into the room moment’s behind him. “If the boss finds out, he’ll be pissed.”

“I am the boss,” Jeremy groans into his hands, oblivious to your presence.

Michael, however notices you, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What do you want?”

You go to respond, but Jeremy interjects. “The damn case file before my fucking head explodes.”

“Not you, idiot,” laughs Michael, nudging his superior’s hands from his face and motioning to you. “You’re lover.”

“Gross.” Your nose wrinkles distastefully, as does Jeremy’s when he finally spots you. It doesn’t take long for him to beam, despite the teasing. “Never in a million years.”

“I’m way out of your league,” he insists around a comedic frown, “I’m arguably too good to be talking to you. But I will, because it’s weird seeing you back in a police station and I’m concerned.”

It’s your turn to laugh. “Don’t get used to it. I just wanted to return something I picked up by accident earlier today.”

“If you pull out this missing file I swear Jeremy is gonna fucking come.”

Jeremy’s expression agrees with Michael’s off-hand joke, the file you pull out of your bag seeing him light up. “Oh thank fuck! I thought I’d lost it, I was about to fire myself!” He takes it eagerly, holding it to his chest with a sigh of relief.

“Don’t leave your shit lying around next time,” you scold, “especially something as important and weird as that.”

He’s nodding until he realises the insinuation of what you’ve just said. Even Michael turns to you, the pair studying you critically. “How would you know it was weird?”

You shrug, seeing no harm in answering Michael’s question honestly. “You think I wasn’t going to look at it?”

“You said you’d never look at another case,” says Jeremy slowly, concern and excitement creating a strange, bubbling concoction in his chest.

“I didn’t really have a choice,” you admit ruefully, rubbing the back of your neck. “But it looks like you’ve got a serious problem to deal with. They all look… very angry.”

“Angry?” His brows furrow, casting Michael a quick glance before snatching a pad and jotting the word down. “What do you mean by angry?”

Instead of answering his question you pose your own. “What do you think it is?”

“A wild animal attack, mostly.” Michael grimaces as the words leave his lips, seemingly upset that they have nothing else to go off.

But you’re shaking your head, dismissing the thought. “No way this is an animal.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, more out of curiosity than ill intent, “but who the fuck are you, exactly?”

“Shit,” mutters Jeremy, jumping in before you can introduce yourself. He holds out a hand to you with a broad, proud beam. “This is Detective Inspector Y/N of the L.D. FBI squad. We used to work together, she was my boss.”

“My god.. You’re legendary around here.” Michael’s eyes are wide as he offers out a hand for you to shake, his grip firm and eager. “I didn’t realise you and the woman Jeremy’s been raving about were the same person. I thought you retired?”

“I am retired,” you say flatly. “What’s he been saying about me?”

“Nice things!” interjects Jeremy rather quickly, his hand covering Michael’s face to shut him up. He struggles, grunting and pulling away with a yelp. But Jeremy pays the complaints no more mind, now looking at you intently. “Does this mean you’re going to join the team as an external source?”

“No, I’m sorry Jeremy.”

His face falls. “No no, I get it. I appreciate you bringing it back. I owe you one.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” He eyes you up suspiciously, not trusting the smile crawling across your face. “Actually, I know exactly how you can pay me back.”

26 notes · View notes

kyutoryu · 7 years ago

Text

Swan Song’s Heist [zolu week]

Fandom: One PIece

Pairing: Zoro/Luffy

Rating: T

Summary: The masquerade is the site of both robbery and a murder mystery, but Zoro finds the real crime is Nami meddling in his love life.

extra: ME AND @asexualzoro wrote this for free space day for zolu week! we tried to fit like. every prompt in this so YEAH

[FF.NET LINK] [AO3 LINK]

or just click that read more

"Listen up, everyone. I want to go over the plan one more time. Everyone at this party is rich, so there's a lot to gain. I don't want to mess this up," Nami says. She looks in the rear view mirror at her friends in the back of the car to make sure they're paying attention. A sharp glare towards Usopp and Luffy, who are busy shoving at each other's faces, makes them both freeze up and direct their gazes toward her. Satisfied, she looks back at the road in front, "I'll be doing all the robbing. I've been posing as a maid here over the past week, so no one will suspect me moving around. Even so, these are nobles, they’ve always been paranoid, so all of you need to be my distraction so no one notices what I'm doing. I want this to work, okay?" Nami glances in the rear view mirror again, then taps the fox-themed mask on her face, "Remember not to remove your masks once we enter. This is a masquerade, and the police have been plastering our faces on every news channel for weeks. Stick to your characters, too, and try not to call each other by name. You all remember your characters?"

"Nami, I wanna wear the hero mask," Luffy complains loudly, ignoring her, "why does Usopp get it? Let me!"

"Your mask is fine, Luffy. I picked it out, special." Nami says, "Usopp's mask has a big hole in it for his nose, anyway. You don't want it."

"And a dragon is cool!" Usopp grabs Luffy's draconic mask by the corners, then snaps it against his face. The little red scales decorating the mask shine in the light of streetlamps that pass by their cars as he does, the design of it poking into his cheeks a bit. Its angular shape to match the shape of a dragon’s face doesn’t necessarily feel nice against his skin, especially not when snapped back on. Luffy shoves at Usopp’s hands, ready to start something in defiance.

"Okay, roles," Nami repeats loudly, stopping that before it started. Snapping her fingers, She continues, "This is a huge job for us! I don't want to fuck it up and I've already got Vivi covering for us back at home. So, I'm a maid, and Robin is..."

"A detective," Robin finishes smoothly, sitting in the back of the large van. It's the only thing that can somewhat fit their group, "A private one; to be specific. That's just if anyone asks."

"I'm a construction worker," Franky says, though it's unlikely anyone will ask him, as he won't be in the ballroom. In the seat next to him, Chopper speaks up.

"I'm a doctor! Or at least, learning to be one," Chopper says, “Which...isn’t that far off from the truth.”

"I'm a... what am I again?" Usopp blinks, confused, "besides a totally badass hero?"

"I'm a cook," Sanji interjects, "But that's not any different. Tonight I shall woo all the ladies of the party as a distraction for my lovely Nami!"

He grins, squished in the seat with Usopp and Luffy. Zoro in the front passenger seat spares Nami a glance, to which she just shrugs.

"Brook's working as a musician, so he's already at the party," Nami explains. The mansion, large and impressive even in the dark, comes into view. Nami pulls up a long driveway, and after she parks she turns to face Zoro and Luffy, "Luffy and Zoro, you two need to be ready to cover our retreat in case things go south so we can get out alright. Don't break character."

"What's our character again?" Luffy says, messing with his mask. He and Nami are the only ones already wearing theirs, as most everyone else had left theirs off in their laps for the ride over.

"Newlyweds," Zoro answers, staring at the fake ring on his finger, "Me and you are newlyweds, Luffy."

"Oh, right," Luffy says, looking at his own ring. The diamonds are plastic, Nami didn't want to spend much on their disguises. Hopefully no one will look to hard at them.

"Zoro, Luffy, don't leave each other's sides. You need to stick together in case something happens," Nami says, "Zoro, you also need to make sure Luffy doesn't cause any trouble that would jeopardize the plan. And be convincing! You're supposed to be soulmates, act like you love each other!"

Zoro frowns. Goddamn Nami, setting them to this role as to 'push things along.' How could this push anything along? Sure, he's got something bad for Luffy, but he doesn't need help and he doesn't need it like this!

"I'm gonna stick to the food bar," Luffy grins, unaware of Zoro's thoughts, "That'll be easy, right?"

"We're just there to mill around while Nami steals shit," Zoro shrugs, twisting the ring absently. How the hell is he supposed to make this convincing?

"Yeah, so don't mess it up. If Luffy sticks to the food bar, you'd better stick to him. Just enjoy the party, you two," Nami says, "The rest of you know the distraction plan already, so if there aren't any more questions, we can head inside. If this works out, we're going to be rich!"

They pile out of the car, filtering inside. Zoro puts on his mask, waiting for Luffy to come to him. Since he has to be married to Luffy for the night, he may as well walk in with Luffy.

Everyone at the party is dressed to the nines, and the crew is no exception. The party is a fantasy-themed masquerade, hosted by and for elites. The wealthy and the noble fill the ballroom, as do their security guards. This makes it an operation of high risk and, if successful, high reward.

"So me and Zoro are married," Luffy says as they approach the front door, "That's kinda weird!"

"I don't know where she comes up with this stuff," Zoro says as he holds out his arm for Luffy to take, "If we're going to be married, you should hold onto me. Couples hold hands and shit, right?"

"Sure!" Luffy grabs onto Zoro's arm, "I dunno, I've never been in a relationship!"

"Of course you have, we're married. You must've dated me at some point," Zoro says, grinning. He leads Luffy into the mansion by the arm.

The ballroom is lit up brightly, decorated heavily. People in fantastical masks mill around, barely paying any attention to those entering. Luffy smiles at the party aspect of it all, but the whole... stuck-up rich person, not-really-a-banquet vibe doesn't really get with him.

Zoro watches Luffy, letting his smiling faux-husband lead him to the food table. Luffy immediately releases Zoro's arm, instead grabbing a plate to start piling it high with food. Zoro continues to watch Luffy as he grabs food upon food to eat. Zoro turns away briefly, awkward. Is this where they starts acting like they're married?

"Slow down, uh... honey. Don't want to grab more than you can eat," Zoro says.

"...Honey?" Luffy snickers, barely holding back full blown laughter.

"We're in love. I'm acting like it," Zoro mutters, grabbing his own plate, "You know, pet names."

"Okay Zoro, Whatever you say," Luffy continues to huff a bit of laughter under his breath as he grabs more food.

"If you dislike the pet names, I'll drop them," Zoro says.

"Hmm..." Luffy hums, shoving an appetizer into his mouth, "Nah, we're married. So it's ok," He grins.

"Alright, but if you're going to laugh every time, I’m stopping," Zoro says. It isn't much of a threat, though, as Luffy seems indifferent to them and they just embarrass Zoro.

"I won't!" Luffy takes his plate and stands against the wall, Zoro following, "How long is Nami gonna take?"

"I don't know. Probably a while," Zoro says, "We'll probably be here a few hours, so just relax."

"Boring," Luffy pokes at his food, looking at Zoro now. "Zoro's got a cool mask, but I'm cooler. I'm a dragon."

"What, demons aren't cool?" Zoro asks, "Demons are way cooler. If a demon and a dragon fought, I bet the demon would win."

"Nah, dragons are cooler and much stronger, so there’s no way they’d lose," Luffy taps on his mask, feeling the fake scales, "I'm a dragon."

"You sure are," Zoro says, reaching up a bit to rest an arm on top of Luffy’s head, "Smallest dragon I've ever seen. Aren’t they supposed to tower over their enemies?”

"Dragons bite," Luffy warns, "Zoro's demon mask is pretty nice, though. He's got horns."

Zoro grins, turning his head to show off. The horns are long and black, and though they're heavy, they're impressive enough that it's worth it.

"Pretty damn cool, right?" Zoro asks. Luffy reaches up, tugging on the horn.

"Nami said I couldn't have anything like these, I'd break 'em," Luffy says.

"You do break a lot of stuff," Zoro says.

"It's fine." Luffy dumps the food into his mouth, going back for more. Zoro watches Luffy go from the wall, awaiting his return. He’s not sure if Luffy feels this, but conversation with him feels so much more awkward now that they’re pretending to be a couple. Conversations used to move so smoothly with Luffy, but now everything he’s saying feels… forced. Zoro picks at his suit jacket, wondering if pretending to date will hurt their relationship more than it helps.

The lapse of silence that follows as Luffy eats and Zoro struggles to find a topic to talk about is interrupted by a very triumphant tone cutting into all other conversations, stopping nobles dancing and people mingling alike.

"I'm a world-renowned sharpshooter! So famous, they call me the King of Snipers!" Usopp says to the pink-haired man listening to him, loud enough to draw the attention of a few other attendants than just the one he's speaking to, "I could shoot a mouse's eye a hundred yards away! I could do it with my eyes closed, even! You'll never meet a sniper half as skilled as me!"

Usopp makes grand gestures as he speaks, keeping the attention of the small crowd he'd gathered with his words, spinning fantastical stories to impress his listeners. Whether or not they believe him, though, is a different matter entirely.

"Really?! A mouse's eye?!" Chopper exclaims, easily amused and happy to listen to Usopp's tales.

"Of course!" Usopp slams a fist on his chest with confidence, "Hell, I could kill it with a knife, fired straight from my slingshot!"

"That's amazing!" Chopper cries, believing every word. Usopp seems to soak up the attention he gets for his story, though it's hard to tell given that his mask covers his whole face. He continues entertaining those who are close enough to hear in stories of his past feats, all heavily exaggerated.

Luffy stands next to Zoro, eating absently as they watch the crowds mingle and move. His attention is drawn back to the present as Zoro notices a girl eying him from across the room. She wears a heavily decorated mask and a very large blue dress which shimmers in the light. Soon she’s striding forth, coming across the way to talk.

"Hello," She curtsies upon walking up to him, smiling. "Are you enjoying the party?"

It's clear she's only talking to Zoro.

"I'm having fun," Zoro says, nodding. She's probably around his age, and by her jewelry, definitely rich. With her obvious money and elaborate dress, she may as well be royalty. Zoro stares at her a moment, recognizing her to be Shalulia. She's the daughter of Roswald, an incredibly rich nobleman and the host of the party.

"It's quite the night, isn't it?” Shalulia says, looking around, "Your mask is very... intricate."

Luffy pauses from his motions of shoving food into his face next to Zoro, staring at Shalulia.

"One hell of a mask for one hell of a party," Zoro says, "But yours is just as intricate as mine."

"Mine, too," Luffy butts in, getting closer to Zoro. He gets a bad feeling from this girl. Shalulia barely regards Luffy, a passing glance before focusing on Zoro again.

"Can you guess what I am?" She asks, spinning around, "I had this custom made, you see. The mask, too!"

"You're a princess, right?" Zoro asks. He's pretty sure she's flirting with him, and he's not all that interested. He looks to Luffy, quickly taking Luffy's hand as he looks at Luffy's face, "What do you think, love?"

The pet names still feel alien in Zoro's mouth, but he wants to get his point across.

"I think she looks dumb," Luffy mutters, stepping closer to Zoro.

"I... sorry, what?" She looks at their linked hands. "Love?"

"Love," Zoro says. He brings their linked hands up, "This is my... husband."

"I'm the husband," Luffy says quickly, staring at her.

"Oh... you're..." Shalulia seems to flounder, pulling at her dress a bit, "You're married?"

"Yes, happily married," Zoro says, still watching Luffy. He lets go of Luffy's hand and hesitantly pulls Luffy close to himself, "Very happy, very married. Right, dear?"

The stiffness and awkwardness that Zoro had felt before is back again, but this time amplified everytime he drops a pet name.

"M...married. Yeah," Luffy nods, lips pursing in that way they do when he's lying.

"Oh." Shalulia looks disappointed, "That's, uh... how long?"

"Not long. We're on our honeymoon. Right, honey?" Zoro says.

"Yeah," Luffy responds, squeezing Zoro's hand. Zoro looks a bit surprised, looking at their hands.

"Uh... you’re sure?" Shalulia asks, a little suspicious, catching onto the way Zoro’s looked at their hands then to his ‘husband’s’ face, as if he wasn’t expecting that.

"We're... still getting used to it. The wedding was so... amazing, it's hard to believe it was real," Zoro explains, poorly. Stirring up this story was harder than once thought...

"Was really big," Luffy says quickly, "Uh, we...had...a lot of food there! And--and...a big party!"

She doesn't seem convinced.

"May I see your ring?" She asks, looking at Zoro.

"Sure," Zoro nods, holding his hand out. Zoro has a wedding band, while Luffy got the engagement ring and wedding band combo.

"This seems fake," she says, "Is it... plastic?"

"Uh, well... we kinda had to go cheap," Zoro says, "blew a shit ton on setup."

"Right..." Shalulia says, "How long have you two been together?"

"Two years," Zoro says. It's how long he's known Luffy for. He looks down at his pretend partner and tells Shalulia the first true thing he's said all night, "I've loved him since the day we met."

"Two years?" She questions, "And you just got married? Pretty fast, if you ask me."

"Neither of us asked you." Luffy turns his head toward her, the blank stare he gives her almost threatening. She falters, moving back a bit out of instinct.

"I didn't-- I've just never heard of anyone marrying after only two years," she says.

"I love him a lot, so we got married," Luffy says.

"I..." Shalulia plays with her hair more, floundering, "You're very lucky, then."

Luffy looks up at Zoro.

"With him by my side, I'm the luckiest on earth," Luffy says. Zoro's surprised by the sincerity. When did Luffy learn to lie? He sounds like he means it, and Zoro would like to think he does... Zoro gets the gut wrenching urge to push the mask up off Luffy's face and kiss him, just to see how he'd react. His hair pushed back from the mask being moved, his lips slightly open from surprise... Zoro cuts off the thoughts. As if he'd be able to do that. He focuses back on the matter, Luffy can lie and get away with it.

"I'm the luckiest," Zoro says quietly, "...Anyway, yeah. This is my husband."

"Right. Your husband," Shalulia says. She looks Luffy up and down, then looks back to Zoro, "Guess you would say no if I asked you to dance?"

"I'd say no," Zoro agrees, "A honeymoon is celebrated with the one you married, after all."

"Right. Of course," She says, "Well, this was... fun, but I think we're done here."

Shalulia walks off, deciding to find someone else to talk to.

Sanji peruses the party calmly, searching the ground. He's got a huge grin on his face, waiting to see a beautiful lady to talk to. He sees a girl walking away from Zoro and Luffy, in a huff.

"Mademoiselle!" Sanji calls, practically twirling toward her, "I was frozen by your beauty, o beautiful princess. May we dance?"

"Dance?" Shalulia asks. She looks Sanji over. He's not the same kind of handsome as that last man, but he hasn't got a ring and his princely mask is certainly more appealing... She offers her hand, "Lead the way."

"Wonderful!" Sanji cries, whisking her off to the dance floor, "a beautiful lady such as yourself shouldn't be alone on a night like this. You may call me... Prince."

He would say his real name, but that's the thing with being a wanted criminal, you really shouldn't give that out.

"Prince? Then you may call me Princess," she says. They dance for a little before she speaks again, "You can dance well. Is there any other skills you might want to show me?"

"Ah, I would love to, but I can't here," Sanji smiles, twirling her, "I'm a skilled chef, you see. One of the best, if I may."

"You are? What kind of dish are you best with, then?" she asks. She has to speak up a little, for as they dance they get closer to the band. Brook sits up at front, though he doesn't seem to notice Sanji dancing just in front of him.

"I'm best with seafoods, you see," Sanji explains, "My father trained me when I was young on the best ways to cook. How to cut things, where to do it... it's important to me that my hands are always ready to cook."

"That's very impressive," She says, "If only you could cook for me, I would love to watch those hands at work."

"I-I would love to cook for you!" Sanji looks shocked and excited, the fact that a woman actually is interested in his advances is new and exciting, "I shall impress you with my knife skills and fine cuisine!"

"I look forward to it," She says, grinning.

Zoro watches Shalulia dancing with Sanji a moment, then looks down to Luffy again. Zoro would like to dance with Luffy, and if they're married, they probably should, right? Just imagining holding Luffy close to dance... If Zoro's ever going to dance with Luffy, it'll have to be now.

"Speaking of dancing..." Zoro starts, "We've been standing by this wall for a while. Do you want to dance with me?"

"I can dance!" Luffy says, and it’s in such a burst it’s almost as if he was waiting impatiently the whole entire time for Zoro to ask, pulling Zoro to the floor without any hesitation, "Don't step on my feet, though."

"I'm not going to step on your feet," Zoro says, letting Luffy lead their dancing.

The song is fairly fast, but before Zoro can be thankful they don't have to slow dance, the song fades out. As if Zoro's thoughts summoned it, a far more romantic song begins to play. Zoro looks to the musicians nearby, where he sees Brook grinning at him from under his skeletal mask. Is everyone determined to try to help him and Luffy along?

"I'm going to kill you for this..." Zoro mutters, gaining a look from a few nearby dancers, Luffy included.

"Why's Zoro gonna kill him?" Luffy asks, "We're just dancing."

Luffy doesn't really hide the fact he wants to keep dancing.

"...Right," Zoro says. He continues letting Luffy lead him in silence for a few moments, but the close contact and romantic music have his mind wandering. Luffy was incredibly convincing before with Shalulia, and Zoro wants to know where the ability to do so came from. Zoro soon speaks up, "Hey, Luffy, when did you learn to lie? You even had me fooled for a moment back there with some of the stuff you said, like being the luckiest to have me..."

"I am the luckiest, so it wasn't a lie," Luffy says, squeezing Zoro's hand. "I'm really bad at lying, so I decide to be truthful."

"Oh," Zoro says. His voice is quiet, as the music is soft. Zoro can barely hear the song anymore, though, his focus is on Luffy only, "You know, I wasn't lying about everything, either. I was telling the truth when I said I was the luckiest, too, and... some other stuff."

"I can't tell when Zoro lies," Luffy replies quietly, stopping their swaying for a moment, "What else did Zoro say that was truthful?"

"What else?" Zoro asks. He said he's loved Luffy since they met and he meant it, but should he tell Luffy that?

"Zoro forgot?" Luffy takes his response as confusion, "Then... maybe I can try and show Zoro what I felt when we were talking. Maybe he’ll remember.”

Zoro doesn't know what Luffy means by that, but he nods.

"Show me what you felt," Zoro says.

In the dark of the mansion's basement, Franky opens the door to the fuse box. He uses a light attached to his robotic mask to see, something those upstairs in the ballroom are soon sure to wish they had. The power only needs to be off for a few moments, and hopefully Nami will be able to steal without interference.

Luffy tightens his hold on Zoro, then moves his hands up to Zoro’s cheeks, thumbs under the mask. He slowly pushes it back, onto Zoro’s head, and presses up against Zoro, his hands moving to Zoro’s shoulders. He glances at Zoro’s lips, leaning in, hoping Zoro will get the memo.

Zoro takes a second to realize what's happening, then leans down to reciprocate. Before he can get close enough, the lights suddenly cut. There's a few shouts of shock as those in attendance try to figure out what's happening, and Zoro pulls away from the near-kiss. Suddenly there's a scream, and the music sours with the sudden loss of a violin. It clatters loudly to the ground and Zoro grabs Luffy's waist, pulling him closer, Luffy tightens his hold on Zoro’s shoulder out of shock, twisting the fabric of his suit in his hands. The darkness stretches a moment longer, and when the lights flicker back on, Brook is on the floor. A woman screams, someone in the crowd faints, and the host, Roswald, looks horrified.

“Is he dead!?” He says, “The party is ruined! Get to the bottom of this, someone, right now!”

"Brook!" Luffy yells, shocked, wrenching away from Zoro.

There's blood on his chest, a stab wound in his heart. He was old, sure, so maybe this was bound to happen soon, but nobody wanted it like that!

"S-Stay back!" A pink haired man yells as Luffy rushes toward the body, "Don't touch the body!"

Luffy tries to rush forward anyway but is stopped by Zoro, who grabs him. The pink haired man--the same who Usopp had been talking to earlier--approaches Brook. He's cut off by Chopper, who runs forward.

"I'm a doctor!" Chopper says, "Let me try and help him!"

Chopper kneels down next to the body, checking him over. If it weren't for how serious the situation was, it would almost be laughable to see someone in a reindeer mask kneeling over a bloody body. However, no one finds any comedy in it as he sits up, solemn-faced.

"He's... he's dead." Chopper says, "His pulse is already gone, the wound hit his heart..."

"Let me go!" Luffy is practically wrestling Zoro, "What's wrong with you, Zoro?! Let me go! Who the hell did this?!"

"What're you going to do? You can't help him," Zoro says. He can't let Luffy near Brook and he knows it.

"Who would have done something like this?" Chopper asks.

"Yes, who?" Robin seems to emerge from shadows, smiling, "Clearly this wasn't done alone. The lights went off, and a body appears. Who among us?" She clasps her hands behind her back, and Luffy stares at her, shocked. She looks to the pink haired man, "Well, Mr. Policeman?"

"It's Coby," The pink haired man says, introducing himself, "The weapon was a knife... who could use one? It would have to be someone close..."

"Or someone able to throw one," Chopper offers.

"Let's look at the people nearby, then." Robin says, "Would anyone here have been able to do it?"

"There's the other musicians," Coby says, "They're all close to him."

"Their hands are all full with instruments," Robin says, "They'd have to make an extra hand appear out of thin air to kill him, which isn't something anyone can do."

"Then those on the dance floor," Coby says. "They're close enough to run forward and stab him."

"So up front, our suspects are a hero, a prince, and a princess," Robin says. She doesn't want to accuse Luffy or Zoro, since Zoro is supposed to keep Luffy from getting upset. Luffy could ruin everything, after all, "Would any of them--"

"Wait, there's that demon and dragon couple, too," Coby says, cutting Robin off, "They're just as close as the other three. We can't overlook them."

"Of course, my mistake," Robin says. Fine, then she needs to clear their names before Luffy gets worked up, "As I was saying, would any of them have been able to kill him?"

"The hero could have. He told me earlier, he could throw a knife in the dark accurately. He has the skill to be able to do it," Coby says.

"I didn't mean like this!" Usopp says.

"Could the prince or princess have done it?" Robin asks.

"The prince could have!" Shalulia says, "He broke away from me when it got dark, and he said he was good with a knife!"

"In the kitchen, my dear, not in a murder!" Sanji says, but Shalulia steps further away from him. Luffy finally breaks away from Zoro to run forward, trying to get to Brook again, but is caught around the waist by Robin.

"Let me go!" Luffy scratches at her arm as she pushes him back to Zoro.

"What about the couple?" Coby asks, "Charging at the body is suspicious, are you trying to hide evidence?"

"No! He was my friend!" Luffy says, upset he's even being accused.

"It isn't him. He's not good with knives, anyway," Robin says, "Or with lying."

"But it could be his partner," Shalulia says, "I overheard him when we passed! He threatened the musician when the song changed!"

"And he's good with a sword!" Chopper says, caught up in the excitement of the investigation. Luffy looks back at Zoro, shocked.

"I didn't do it! I was dancing with him the whole time!" Zoro said, pointing to Luffy. "He was holding me. I couldn't have killed anyone without him knowing."

"Zoro didn't." Luffy says slowly, irritated that nobody would let him go back to Brook. "But you two?!" He whirls on Usopp and Sanji, both looking surprised, "What the hell is this?! Who did it?!"

"Come on, Luffy. Let the detectives figure it out." Zoro says, pulling him back a few steps.

Unnoticed by those arguing, a maid in a fox mask makes her way through the crowd, a sheet draped over one arm. She bumps into a few people as she goes, making her way to the front of the ballroom to pass the sheet off to Chopper. He tosses the sheet over Brook, and the maid leaves. With their focuses on the murder, no one in the crowd notices if their pockets are suddenly lighter as she goes by.

"What the hell is your problem?" Luffy whispers harshly, "Brook is dead! Someone killed him--one of our friends! Let me go!"

"Trouble in paradise?" Shalulia sneers, "I still think he killed him!"

"I didn't. You know that," Zoro says, looking at Luffy, "Luffy, do you trust me?"

"Should I?" Luffy seems unsure, holding away from Zoro.

"Please," Zoro says, "Luffy, if you trust me, just sit this one out. Things will be alright, I swear."

"How can I sit this out?!" Luffy demands, shaking his head.

"Luffy, there's nothing you can do. Let those two handle this," Zoro says. He stops holding Luffy so tight and instead cups Luffy's face in his hands. He's become used to casual affection over the course of the night, so it's far more natural. He meets Luffy's eyes, "I'm asking you to trust me. Calm down and wait, things will work out."

Luffy visibly relaxes a fraction of an inch, looking at Brook. Luffy sucks in a breath and tightens his hold on Zoro's shirt, clearly upset. "I'm gonna kill whoever did it."

"I know," Zoro says, nodding. He wraps his arms around Luffy, hoping to ease Luffy's pain. Luffy seems to take comfort in it, turning his face away and into Zoro's chest.

"So the couple didn't do it," Robin says, watching them, "What about you, hero?"

"No, of course not!" Usopp says, "He was my friend! He was both of our friend! Why would we?"

"He's right," Sanji says, "We all know that musician. None of us would kill him!"

"But one of you did." Coby worries at the edge of his jacket, "I'm sorry, but it's true, and this shouldn't just be solved by us."

"What do you mean?" Robin asks, "Who else is supposed to help?"

"The police!" Coby cries, "We shouldn't just be standing here! We should call them right away!"

"That's not necessary," Robin says, "I'm a detective and you're a police officer, we should be able to solve this without help."

"You're not a detective I've ever seen before," Coby says, though her witchy mask does cover most of her face.

"I'm quite private," She explains, "That's why. Come now, let's just solve this." Robin tucks some hair behind her ear, "The couple has an alibi, correct?"

"Like I said," Zoro is keeping Luffy close, "we were holding onto each other the whole time. And with how upset he is? Why the hell would I do it? He was my friend too."

"He was friends with all of you, and still he's dead," Coby says, "That excuse doesn't mean anything, unfortunately."

"He was still holding me," Luffy turns his head, "So it wasn't me or Zoro."

"Zoro? That name's familiar..." Coby says.

"Probably that movie about the swordsman," Zoro says. He really doesn't need to be arrested because Luffy forgot not to say his name in front of a cop, "You have bigger mysteries to solve than where you've heard my name before."

"Right," Coby says slowly, turning to look at the body, "If I can't find something soon, I'm taking you all in for questions. I'm sorry."

Coby starts walking towards Brook, but Robin grabs his arm.

"Aren't we supposed to question them? You don't need to look at the body," She says.

"I need to see if anything on his body will hint at who did it!" Coby insists, "You're the detective!"

"It's faster with a partner," Robin lies easily.

"Inspecting the body will only take a moment and it will make questioning easier," Coby says. Robin lets him go, not wanting to raise suspicion. She watches him lean over Brook, stepping back. Nami better be done, or this was about to be busted if Brook couldn't keep acting dead.

Coby's thankful he wore gloves with his suit, it'll allow him to inspect the murder weapon without leaving finger prints. He pulls back the sheet, then reaches down to pull the knife from the musician's chest when a hand stops him. It's the musician. Coby doesn't have time to scream before the back-from-the-dead man starts laughing at him.

"Brook..." Sanji sighs, frowning. There goes the plan.

"I'm sorry!" Brook laughs, clutching his stomach, "it--it was just so WORTH it!"

"What's going on!?" Coby cries, wrenching his hand away from Brook. He steps back as Brook sits up. Off to the side, Luffy beams. Brook's alright, but why was he playing dead?

"Shit," Zoro groans, leaning his forehead on Luffy's head as he processed the pure stupidity of his crew, "Brook, you idiot! You better hope Nami is done!"

Brook stands, dusting himself off.

"No one answered me, what just happened!?" Coby says.

"I think we're done here," Robin says, ignoring Coby entirely.

"Brook's alive!" Luffy says, trying to look up at Zoro, which is hard considering Zoro still has his head on top of Luffy's.

"He's ruined the plan, that's what he did," Sanji sighs, pushing the mask up his face.

"The 'plan'? You planned this? Was everyone in on this?" Coby says.

"Unfortunately," Sanji says, and Usopp tosses his mask off, "We all are. It's the distraction."

"Wait a minute..." Coby looks to Zoro, "Z-Zoro? Roronoa Zoro?"

"Yes, Roronoa Zoro," Zoro says, "Hope Franky's ready, because we have to go."

"It's that group of thieves!" Roswald yells, pointing, "Somebody get them! Don't let them escape this party!”

"Hey!" Nami yells from an upper balcony in the ballroom, waving her hands, "We're outside! Get going!"

"That's our cue," Zoro says, and without further prompting, the group makes a break for the door. Most of the guests, the nobles and the rich, are too busy checking to see if they still have their valuables in the presence of thieves to stop their escape. The mass of wealthy people in the room stops security from being able to reach the group, and no one wants to be plowed over by Luffy or his friends.

Franky has the car open, valuables piled in the various spaces on the floor. Luffy dives in first with Zoro after him, pulling him in close for protecting. Luffy thinks it's for protection, anyway.

The rest of the group squeezes in as well, though it's more cramped with the ninth member. Nami sits in the driver seat and Robin takes the passenger seat to avoid being squished.

Zoro sits in a seat and holds Luffy in his lap. He tells himself he's making room for Brook, and in the scramble no one seems to notice. Luffy wraps his arms around Zoro, pulling his knees in to accommodate for Brook's longer limbs.

"Brook, why'd you die?" Luffy asks as he snags Zoro's forgotten mask and starts messing with it.

"They were making a scene so I could rob the place without interruption," Nami says as she starts driving.

"I didn't actually die," Brook says, "I faked it."

"Clearly," Zoro says, "or else we'd be talking to a... I don't know, a fucking skeleton."

Brook laughs.

"Wouldn't that be frightening?" He says. Luffy shakes his head.

"I think it'd be cool!" Luffy says, "I want to be friends with a skeleton!"

"And we didn't tell you this plan because you'd be awful at keeping to it." Usopp says, patting Luffy's head.

"I'll tell you what was frightening, Luffy ready to kill one of us when Brook collapsed." Sanji scoffs.

"I thought it was flattering," Brook says.

"I wasn't scared! I'm sure I could take him if we fought!" Usopp says, "But I wouldn't want to."

"Hurting each other isn't what friends do," Luffy says, "I don't want you guys to die or anything."

"You don't have to worry. None of us are dying anytime soon," Sanji says.

"Brook IS pretty old, though..." Zoro comments.

"I still have plenty of life left in me," Brook says, "It'll take a lot to kill this old man."

"Nami, did we get lots of money?" Luffy asks, putting on Zoro's demon mask.

"Yeah, lots of wallets and jewelry. I'm not sure how much it's all worth, but it's easily thousands," Nami says.

"That's good." Luffy leans back. He didn't really care too much about money, but it was nice to have. He absently pats at Zoro’s wrist, bored.

The car ride passes with idle talk, since they were out fast enough that they weren't chased. They reach their hideout in a few more minutes, an abandoned boat tied to an used dock which they'd taken over. Everyone disperses when they arrive, heading off to get changed out of their fancy getups. It's late, so most of them head to bed shortly after. Despite the calm and quiet in the bedroom neither Luffy nor Zoro can sleep, too much on both their minds. Zoro gets Luffy's attention by waving his hand.

"You wanna go to the front?" Zoro whispers to Luffy, referring to the tip of the boat, where Luffy likes to sit. Luffy nods. He heads up to the front of the ship, letting Zoro follow. When he gets there he stops, waiting for Zoro rather than sitting in his spot on the mast.

In the ballroom, during the dance, Luffy almost kissed Zoro. He'd been so caught up in the moment, he hadn't even got a chance to ask if Zoro was alright with that before everything happened. Zoro stops in front of Luffy, lapsing into an awkward silence. They both search for something to say, but Zoro finds something first.

"You... haven't taken the ring off."

"No, I guess I forgot," Luffy says. He looks down at his hand. In the dark, the ring almost looks real, "I like it."

"You never struck me as a jewelry type," Zoro says, stepping a bit closer so he could grab Luffy's hand.

"This is different," Luffy says. He keeps his eyes on his hand in Zoro's.

"The ring, or...?" Zoro looks at Luffy instead of his hand, "or what I'm doing?"

"The ring, but what Zoro is doing is different, too," Luffy says, "I had fun tonight, pretending to be Zoro's husband."

"Did you?" Zoro grins a bit, "you know, you were trying to show me something, but we got interrupted."

"I was going for a kiss," Luffy admits.

"So, you still want to?" Zoro asks, "Kiss, I mean. We don't have to."

"I want to," Luffy says. He reaches up to hold Zoro's face in his hands, "I really, really want to."

"Then we can." Zoro says quietly, putting a hand on Luffy's lower back and splaying it. He leans down and kisses the corner of Luffy's mouth. Zoro pulls back after, but Luffy hugs his neck to stop him from going far.

"Back when that lady was talking to us, Zoro said something that sounded really sincere. He said he'd loved me since the day we met," Luffy says, "Did he mean that?"

"...I meant it," Zoro says, "I have. Ever since I saw you."

"I feel the same. I've always felt the same," Luffy says, "Maybe we really are soulmates."

"Maybe." Zoro says, lifting Luffy up. "Maybe we are."

Luffy grins, wrapping his legs around Zoro's waist to hold himself up.

"I would like that," Luffy says. He holds out his hand, looking at his ring over Zoro's shoulder, "I think I'm going to keep wearing this."

"What, a fake plastic ring?" Zoro snorts, "you just kind of jumped right into marriage again."

"I'm not thinking of it like marriage! It's like a souvenir," Luffy says, "Instead of marriage, it's from the night Zoro first said he loved me."

"An anniversary ring," Zoro says, comfortable holding Luffy, "Maybe I'll keep mine, too."

Luffy leans his head on Zoro's shoulder.

"We'd be matching," Luffy says.

"Do you want to match?" Zoro asks, turning his head and kissing Luffy's nose. Luffy laughs.

"I wouldn't mind matching," Luffy says.

"Then I'll keep it," Zoro says, "I need to thank Nami."

“What for?” Luffy asks.

"She told me she made us the couple so this shit could happen," Zoro sighs.

"Guess I should thank her, too," Luffy says.

"Why didn't we act on this sooner?" Zoro asks, humming.

"Well, I know Zoro's pretty dumb," Luffy says.

"I know you're dumber," Zoro says

"Rude," Luffy says, "Zoro's rude and dumb and I'm in love with him."

"Luffy's rude and dumb and I'm in love with him more," Zoro responds, grinning. Luffy pulls his head off Zoro's shoulder so he can look at Zoro's face.

"If Zoro loves me so much, then why not he kiss me again?" Luffy asks. Zoro leans in and kisses Luffy again, repeating his actions over and over to get the point across. Luffy eventually breaks away, and he leans back in Zoro's arms to look up at the sky. The air's clear, and he can see thousands of stars.

"They're bright," Luffy says. He looks down at Zoro, then grins. To Zoro, that's brighter than anything in the sky, day or night. There's no need for sunshine, not with Luffy so close. Zoro has the sea below him, the stars around him, and Luffy in his arms. He doesn't ever need anything else.

#zolu #zolu week #sammy writes fic #(with a friend)#one piece

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