#a bull that makes ya go Nice RACK!!

[captainofallships]

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 1 -- Beatrix Russell

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 1 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Pegging with Beatrix Russell x M!Six

Woo-hoo! Okay, starting off this lovely Ktober with a fun and especially spicy one! Beatrix is just... goodness she's so fun, both in-game and to write! I mean, what's not to love about this sassy ghoul, honestly?

Anyways, I hope y'all like it, and are looking forward to this month of gratuitous sin like I am! Lol

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Pegging, teasing, dom/sub dynamics, master/pet dynamics, light bdsm/restraints, size kink/large cock strap, anal fingering, anal sex, light praise kink, punishment, overstimulation, light spanking, riding, multiple orgasms, orgasm control.

Words: 3.4k

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Six’s fingers paled as he gripped the mattress sheet until it felt near to ripping. He panted as sweat dripped down his brow, the heat of the Mojave night sweltering in the dim Wrangler hotel room Beatrix had chosen to do her business in. 

“Y’know? Can honestly say I’m glad you decided to come and see what it’s like to be a client of mine.” 

She added another finger to Six’s asshole, racking the number up to a hefty four digits spreading him out. Black splotches reigned over his vision, the blissful mix of pain from the stretch, and pleasure from the way her fingers twisted and curled within him making his body tremble. 

“Way your thighs‘re shakin’ is making my black, leather-bound heart jus' soar.” 

Beatrix dragged her free hand down the line of Six’s back, her fingernails leaving faint marks drawn over his skin. 

“Aw, my sweet little cowpoke, this provin’ too much for ya? Got some bad news ‘bout my strap, then.” 

“N-no.” Six whined out, thrusting his needy hips back until she reached knuckle-deep inside him. “Please, ma’am, need it.” 

He couldn’t even think to be embarrassed about his begging, about the way his cock cried tears of pre-cum despondently into the sheets below, the way his voice shook and his body writhed against his restraints and into her aching touch. 

It was all too addicting. 

He had to check it out for himself, when he met one of the clients he’d secured for her after a session, and he seemed like a changed man, one whose lost all worries-- and an ability to walk like a normal person. It had… intrigued the courier. 

Now… now he wondered if he could ever go back. Not even one full session in, and Six would do anything for Beatrix Russell, anything she asked, and he’d obey without question. She was sure of herself, sexy, confident, rocking more leather than a brahmin, and packing a rubber cock near as big as a bull’s too. 

“Hmm, I s’pose you been a decent little pup for me so far.” Her fingers gave a distinctive curl against the walls of his ass, and Six groaned in response as tears sprung to his eyes. 

“And so reactive. Opposite o’ boring, ‘s what you are, little one.” 

“I’ll be so good for you, ma’am.” Six promised as she hauled her fingers out of him, giving one final tug as they came away, and watching with a vicious sort of pleasure at the way his cock gave a pathetic little jump in its despair. The neglect of it. 

“Oh, don’t I know it. Can’t wait to see you writhin' on my strap. Have you lookin’ like a right proper cowboy, with how you’ll be walkin’ so bowlegged in the mornin’.” 

Her weight vanished from the mattress, leaving Six to wait with held breath, to cling to the bed with strained fingers as he stayed firmly put on all fours. A spreader bar ensured he remained nice and open and vulnerable to her, and the roughened straps fastened around his wrists kept him from pushing her back, crawling away from her contact, or pleasuring himself without her permission. 

It left him wanting; mad with his own need for her attention, her touch– rough and overwhelming as it may be-- Six took what she gave him, and he did it with plentiful thanks. 

The clinking of metal fastenings sounded behind him, and Six chanced a glance over his shoulder at the fate that awaited him. 

A chill ran up his whole body, the tingles concentrating between his legs and on those peaking points upon his chest as he took in the enormity of the thing. Damn near as long as his forearm, and thick as those four fingers she’d had shoved into him only moments ago, he almost felt like passing out at the mere thought of that monstrosity forcing its way inside him. 

Even so, Six couldn’t help but notice the way his mouth watered and his pleading eyes grew narrowed with increased need, at the way one of her hands ran over the dark, intimidating thing, stroking glistening lube along the whole length of it.

He shivered again, especially once he caught her gaze, their eyes meeting as hers crinkled with the dry smugness of her grin. 

She’s really going to enjoy this, huh?

Six gulped, feeling the lump in his throat work its way down the center of his body so slowly, like swallowing down a fistful of gravel. 

Probably not as much as I will, though.

His own smug smile spread to his lips as Six turned to look away from her. The anticipation of it was too good to ruin by peeking backwards. 

Beatrix’s footsteps approached, creaking wood below sure feet; then, the telltale give of the mattress as she climbed atop it behind him. His body gave a violent jerk as she set her hands on him, stroking textured fingers over his back in a soothing motion that soon made his teeth grit together as she decided to dig in her fingernails in and leave another roadway of marks upon him. 

Six hissed at the feeling, and heard her approving hum in response. The sound went straight to his cock, any form of praise that escaped the hard woman’s lips serving as more than a miracle in his eyes. Her few-and-far-between compliments were about as likely for him to hear as rainfall in the Mojave, and just about as lovely as that cool, dousing feeling when it did come. 

“Ohh, yeah, yer ‘bout ready, I’d say. Eager too. I like that in a pet.” Beatrix practically growled out the last bit, and Six’s erection gave another painful, wanting pulse. 

“Let’s see how long it lasts that you’ll be wanting more of me, eh?”

Six bit his lip at the right moment, it would seem, for just as his teeth set over the skin, one of Beatrix’s hands left his back, grasped the thick, rubber head of her strap, and slotted it right over his tender, pre-stretched asshole. 

He released a throaty groan as she teased him with the tip, rubbing the slickness generously over his entrance. His unrestrained vocal pleasure was Six’s form of singing praise to her, as Beatrix began to press inside, then pull away a moment, only to return and go a bit further. All Six could do was pant and grunt against the skin of his bottom lip as he held firm to it with clenched teeth. 

“More.” He finally begged the woman, after she ceased pushing further, and only popped the wide head of her strap inside, before immediately withdrawing, stretching him painfully over the exaggerated, hard rubber glans with each shallow stroke. 

Six’s eyes snapped open wide as he felt the sting of a sharp slap over his asscheek, and he let out a yelp in surprise. 

“You orderin’ me ‘round, pet?” Beatrix spat the last word, her voice coarse like sand and dried tumbleweeds as it pointedly left her throat. 

“N-no!” The courier insisted, “Just… ah–” 

Another too-short thrust into him had Six flexing and whining at the same time.

“Ugh, ma’am, please…Just a bit further in.” 

To prove his point even further, Six thrust his hips back towards her, and nearly cursed as she drew backwards, keeping their contact exactly the same, despite his efforts. 

“Please.” It was nearly a sob now, and SIx didn’t have to look to know the shit-eating sort of expression that was plastered to her face at the sound of his pathetic supplication. 

“Should make you fuckin’ suck on it, after the shit you just tried to pull.” 

Six had to fight not to shake his head aggressively at the thought of it. All worked up, his ass clenching and his thighs shaking as she was so close to truly breaching him, and for her to just… pull away? To set his mouth upon the rubber, making love to an object-- that had no ability to feel-- with his tongue and lips as Beatrix looked down at him; a hard, set brow adorning her cold, amused eyes and a cigarette between her own lips as she watched him debase himself for no gain besides his own frustration and humiliation. 

Actually... some days he might not mind that…

Now, though? When his cock is fit to burst, his ass milking anything it can for everything it can possibly give, his voice crying out, leaving him in desperate whines, his hands gripping onto the bed to the point of numbness? 

He couldn’t imagine a worse torture. 

“But, I’m feelin’ generous tonight, cowpoke. So, I s’pose I’ll just have to punish you another way.”

Six held his breath then, waiting for anything, the worst, even, but it was anything but. With no previous warning, Beatrix pushed forward, sheathing the majority of her gargantuan strap deep inside him with one firm thrust. 

A long, deep moan tore itself from the very back of his throat, and a black vignette surrounded the whole of his vision as she reached that point deep inside that made his body sing. 

She didn’t stop there, though, no. Six wasn’t given a moment of respite, a moment to get used to the shock of the stretch, of the depth, to soak in that pleasurable feeling inside him, before she began to really thrust. The ghoul’s own grunts left her as she exerted herself and her pleasurable will upon him. Her hands held bruisingly to his hips, and he felt the sharp jab of her hip bones spike into him as she managed to fully sheathe the rubber behemoth inside him on just the third or fourth thrust. 

“Goddamn, m-master, I– fuck…” Six could hardly form words, feeling as though he were frothing at the mouth like some wild mongrel as the pleasure overwhelmed his mind. Each pulse of her against him had spots flying over his vision, had his fingers clenching harder to the mattress below, had his breath coming out in great, hot puffs of air like a fire gecko learning to shoot its flame. 

“Ohh, call me master again, pet, I like the sound of that.” 

One hand stroked appreciatively over his back, and the tingles running up Six’s spine just then felt like shocks of lightning spiking through his veins. 

“F-feels so good, m-master. So, so good to me.” He managed out, his eyes set on the dark spot upon the mattress where his sweat was dripping down from his brow and gathering in a small puddle over the sheets. “Need you to keep going, please.” 

“Oh, you do, huh?” She continued her blistering pace, pounding away with her hips jutting into the flesh of his ass with each hefty stroke. 

“You need it? Really, truly need it?” 

“Uh huh.” Six nodded eagerly, deliriously, even.

“Good, then show me.” 

His gaze snapped back to her, foggy with pleasure, but his inquiry still plain enough in his expression for her to know precisely what he wished to voice.

“That's right. Ride me, cowboy. Ride my big, hard strap until you feel like yer leg’s’ll fall off, or yer ass’ll split clean open. That’s what I want from you, pet.” 

“Y-yes, ma’am.” Was all he could manage, before Beatrix pulled completely, shockingly, out of him, leaving his ass empty and gaping in its massive wake. 

Six was breathless at the feeling, a long moan escaping him at the drag of her thickness over his tender walls, before the feeling was gone, and he was at a loss. 

“Bea– ahem, ma’am, I–”

“Who said you was needin’ to yammer on?” 

Her voice sounded close to his ear as he suddenly felt her hands set upon the leather straps on his right wrist. The leather loosened as she unbuckled it, then moved to the next one, before she moved, too, to undo the metal clasps around his ankles. Soon enough, Six was completely untethered now, his muscles aching as he moved out of that default position she’d had him locked in for so long. 

His first instinct was to grab ahold of his achingly hard cock, to stroke it, to squeeze himself and give his throbbing member the attention it’d been craving for over almost two whole, unsatisfying hours. 

She’d never let that fly though. 

He paused, considering if it’d be worth it, until he heard a snap of Beatrix’s fingers. 

“You wanna end up all tied up again, boy?” 

“N-no–” He started.

“Well, even if you did, it don’t much matter to me what you want, does it?” 

Six just assumed the question was rhetorical, what with all the interrupting she’d been doing. 

“No, it matters what I want, pet. And you know what I want?” 

Six’s eyes darted to her gleaming strap as it stood high and proud over her waist as she lay back on the bed. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Both her hands swiped up and down the length of the colossal thing, and Six faintly wondered how the hell it had been all the way inside him. And how the hell it had felt good there. 

“So you gonna climb on, or do I need to grab my switch an' give you a lil extra motivation?” 

Six jolted at that, instantly moving to obey her wants as he crawled over to straddle her waist. 

He had to raise himself as tall as he could manage while still on his knees to be able reach the full height of the rubber cock, and bring the substantial head of it to rest at his winking entrance. 

It was intimidating, the feel of the hard material in his hand, the trouble he had wrapping his fingers completely around it, but his own want spurred him forward. That, and the knowledge that, hey, he’d already taken it once. 

With a deep breath, he began to slowly ease himself downwards. 

Six’s teeth gritted together as he slowly sat down in Beatrix’s lap, his eyes closed firmly in concentration, and in bliss, as the strap somehow seemed to reach further inside than it had the first time. 

A groan left him, and sweat beaded on his brow as he finally reached its end, and just as he felt himself starting to relax around the enormity of the beast inside him, a sharp slap stung on his asscheek. 

“Let’s get a move-on, cowboy. I ain’t got all night.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He panted out obediently, and began to raise himself a few inches upwards, before letting himself drop back down. 

To help with balance, Six’s hands rested on either side of the ghoul’s body beneath him as he began to thrust in earnest, raising as high as he comfortably could, before letting gravity force him back down, until he felt the tip of her strap pounding deliciously into that sensitive place deep within him. 

“Make some noise for me, pet. I wanna hear ya.” 

His eyes opened as he obeyed, looking down at Beatrix’s expression, and he noted the way his stimulation was rubbing the belt of the strap-on right over her clit, stimulating her just as well. As per her request, Six gave up trying to hold back his sounds, letting the grunts and breathy moans leave him liberally with each heavenly stroke of her rubber cock against his trembling walls, with each dizzying pound of her deep inside him. 

“That’s a boy. Much better.” 

Her praise left him woozy, lightheaded with the pleasure it brought, and Six’s cock drooled another stream of pre-cum that dripped down his aching, bobbing shaft. 

His pace only increased from there, as Beatrix’s girth stretched him out, as her own moans left her at the feel of his pressure over her sensitive nub, and her hips began to grind upwards to meet him. 

“F-fuck, feels so good, master.” He let slip with little more than a whine, and could feel the smugness coming in waves off of the ghoul beneath him. 

“Yeah, it does.” She growled, “How ‘bout this ti– ahh.” 

Another moan left her, and Six felt her pace below him stutter, forcing him downwards onto the rubber cock harder than he’d anticipated, shooting stars behind his vision and pleasure up his spine.  

"F-finish me off, and I’ll reward you, pet.” Beatrix finished, and with that, Six nodded frantically, and changed his position a bit overtop her. He leaned forward, pressing his hips as close to hers as he could manage, and ground into her there, the stimulation of the strap's head over his prostate causing his thighs to shake until he felt like he might simply topple over. 

She’d been closer than he thought, though, Six realized as Beatrix shuddered beneath him, her hands wringing the bedsheets and a throaty groan escaping her as she rode out her release with him still grinding the belt into her clit. 

He continued dutifully, despite his trembling limbs, until Beatrix’s hands forced him to sit back and ease the pressure over her oversensitive little nub. 

“S’pose that was… good enough.” She panted out, and Six felt another rush of heat to his groin. 

“Now yer turn, I guess.” 

His excitement hardly had time to bubble up in him, before Beatrix was leaning up against the pillows behind her, and her rough hands were moving to grasp over his darkened, throbbing cock. 

He practically squealed as she took a firm hold of him, providing no mercy at all as she used both hands to wring out his cock between strong fingers. 

“Fffuck, m-master, please…”

Six was whining now, bucking his hips into her feverishly, unsure if he was trying desperately to thrust into the contact or away from it. 

“Please, what?”

“C-can I cum?” He pleaded, eyes closed, mouth gaping, cock weeping and ass clenching as all the sensations washed over him, flooding his body with building bliss that was bound to spill over at any moment.

“Oh…” She pondered cruelly as her hands redoubled their efforts to wring him dry, one scraping painfully over his engorged cockhead until he was shouting out his frustrated pleasure to the dingy ceiling above. 

“Fine.” 

Beatrix finally said, and not a moment later, Six was spilling his seed generously over his own stomach, and then out onto hers, his pent-up cock releasing like a firehouse with the force of his blinding, all-encompassing orgasm. 

“Goooood.” Beatrix murmured as she continued stroking over him, too fast, too hard.

Soon enough, Six’s legs were trembling uncontrollably, his voice was more cry than shout, his ass ached and pleaded for relief from the continuing pressure of the huge strap inside him, and his hips were flinching back from her overwhelming touch. He made to move away, to pull off of her, to push her hands from their place on his spent cock, but Beatrix’s look halted him. 

“No, ya don’t, cowboy.” 

Six could only whine as his stomach flexed, and his cock spurted the absolute last it had to give weakly down his shaft to dribble onto her gripping hands. 

“I ain’t done with you yet.” 

“Please…” He croaked out as his body shook, as sweat poured from him. 

“Nope. Still got a punishment due, don’t ya? You make to order me 'round, this is what you get. Just consider yerself lucky it ain’t any worse.” 

Tears were falling from the corners of his eyes as she continued stroking over him, his cock reluctantly hardening again at her attentions, but becoming no less sensitive to them. 

“I’m not hearin’ a ‘thank you.’” Beatrix's voice was so pointed, it may as well have been a spear, pricking at his mind painfully, just as her fingernails dragged cruelly over the beyond-sensitive skin of his shaft. 

“T-thank you.” Six sobbed as his cock swelled further still, as his asshole clenched, this time in pain, on her torturous rubber strap.

“Thank you…?” 

“Fuck, ah, thank you, master.” Six relented easily, his voice giving way to another shout as his cock was pushed past its limits again, pulsing painfully in her grasp as a few sad little bursts of milky cum left it. 

His body was wracked with painful bliss, his vision turning white at her overwhelming attentions, and yet still, Beatrix showed no signs of relenting. 

“Aw, now did ya see that?” Her voice had a mock affection to it, “How sweet. Now, just a few more of those, and I say we’ll be done.” 

Six only groaned, as he felt his exhausted cock twitch reluctantly in her hands. 

[puckngrind]

What’s In A Name: 9 - J. Toews

Chapter 9.

Where we left off: Jon poured his heart out to Bekah and she answered okay.

Warnings: smut, language, mentions of Humboldt crash

Word Count: 3,594

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Okay.

Jon left Columbus to finish the season with just an okay from Bekah. He didn’t push her answer and she didn’t elaborate.  It was a lot to process for both of them.  Jon felt tense leaving since he laid his entire heart at her feet knowing she could easily stomp on it when she finally came around to processing her feelings and answering him.  He didn’t care.  He loved her more than anyone or anything in his life.  Bekah cared about Jon but the fear was masking so many things for her.

It was hard for Bekah to watch the end of the season for a multitude of reasons but she did. The Blackhawks weren’t making the playoffs for the first time since Jon’s rookie year and with every loss she could hear Jon’s voice ringing in her ears that it was hard to focus on leading his team.  She felt a huge ping of guilt knowing she was at fault for his lack of focus. Bekah and Jon talked but she could tell he was giving her space and avoiding topics.

“Whatcha doing?” Brynn headed in to Bekah’s office for lunch and see Bekah clicking away feverishly.

“I was looking over Jon’s new foundation and this collaboration for the gardens.” Bekah answers but doesn’t look up at her best friend.

“Ah! Did you watch the game last night? They won, yes?” Brynn’s face contorts but she recovers.

“Yes. 6-2. You know what he wants to do with this foundation is incredible but could use some tweaking, right?” Bekah finally looks at Brynn.

“Like a mastermind marketing badass could fix if she were to leave say her best friend and move to Chicago with the hot ass hockey man who has professed his love and she just answered okay even though she loves him too and is way too chicken shit to jump fully in?” Brynn raises her eyebrows and shoves a bite into her mouth.

“Wow! You really just...” Bekah leans back in her chair.

“Went there? Yes. Yes. Yes I did. Have you told him you love him?”

“No.” Bekah barely whispers.

“Because?” Brynn rolls her hand to get Bekah to continue.

“Rin, that’s not something you do over the phone, okay?”

“But you love him?” Brynn shoves another bite in her mouth and stares at Bekah.

“I mean...”

“Don’t do this what’s in a name it’s not a relationship bull shit again Bekah! That man poured his heart out to you. Told you he tries to replicate your scent when you leave. Can you imagine him in the kitchen with a spice rack and a splash of vanilla? It’s romantic as fuck and your answer was just okay. And he was fine with that! You told Captain Jonathan Bryan Toews, OM okay... do you know how many women wish they were you?” Brynn sucked in a breath and stared at be her best friend.

“OM?” Bekah questions.

“That’s what you are focusing on?  Okay.”  Brynn rolls her eyes and chuckles.  “You really don’t google him do ya?” Brynn smirks as Bekah shakes her head no.  “OM. Order of Manitoba. It’s the highest award the territory can give to outstanding citizens. Jon received it maybe the first summer you two were not defining things.” Bekah’s mouth opens and closes. “Google him friend. I did it recently. There are some super cute pictures of the two of you. The WAG pages think you two are adorable which I will say, they aren’t always nice to the woman so bravo.” Brynn gets up to leave.

“Wait, I’m in his google search?” Bekah croaks out.

“Yes friend. You are considered his girlfriend by everyone but yourself.” Brynn dropped the bomb, waves and walks down the hall.

Bekah types Jon’s name out. Sure enough their pictures from the Gala were in the first line and then from winning the cup and a few more from games including her in the jacket. Bekah could not believe that Brynn was right. The WAG blogs mentioned that Bekah loosened up Captain Serious. Also, one mentioned they were cute together and you could see how much he loved her. That statement was paired with a picture from his 2015 cup win and Bekah felt the lump in her throat. She stared off into space processing everything.

Bekah was working and barely watching the game against the Blues. She didn’t even notice the game was over until Jon’s was calling.

“Hey!” Bekah is greeted by the sounds of almost sobs. “Jon, are you crying? Babe!” Bekah’s voice calm but her brain racing.

“Beks, there was a crash. A junior hockey team from Canada.” Was all he could mustard up before the emotion caught up with him.

“Oh Jon!” Bekah clicked open a new window and searched. Her eyes misty. “Those families.” She whispers.

“Yeah, I’m going to head there next week before you come, okay?” Jon sniffles trying to regain his composure.

“Do you want me to come?” Bekah asked and while Jon wanted her to he knew her time off was limited.

“No but thanks. I’ll see you in two weeks, okay? Lo... Later Beks.” Jon cleared his throat and they hung up.

She clicked off the website and into her email. She typed out an email to her boss. A tear streaming down her cheek and she swiped it away. She hadn’t been in the hockey community long but she knew this loss was one that would stay with them forever, she could feel it.  

Two weeks later, Bekah was on a plane to Chicago as planned. Jon waiting for her, this time with a small bouquet of flowers in hand. “Beks!” He pulls her up and kisses her sweetly.

“How are you?” She surveyed his face after an emotional two weeks he looked good but with a glimmer missing from his eye.

“I’m okay. Glad you are here. Let’s go get your bag.” He slides his hand in her’s and she feels a jolt as they touch. He lifts the bag off the conveyor belt with ease. “We can grab lunch then head to my place.”

“Wait!” Bekah spotted her other bag a few feet back and snags it.

“Beks, why so many bags?” Jon’s eyebrow raises.

“I... I... well... Tae.” She looks deep into his eyes.

“Spit it out, Baby.” Jon’s hand lets go of the luggage and the back of his hand swipes her cheek.

“I love you, Tae!” She almost shouts. Jon’s face lights up.

“Say that again?” He leans towards her face unsure if he heard the woman he loves correctly.

“Je t’aime Jonathan!” She giggles.

Jon lifts her up and spins her around. His kiss a little too strong for an airport but he doesn’t care. “Je t’aime Beks!” He places her back down on the ground. “But the fact that you love me doesn’t explain the extra suitcase.” His eyebrow rises again.

“Well, I took a sabbatical from work for the next 3 months.” Bekah’s feels the pink in her cheeks.

“You what?!?” Jon voice echoes off the walls.

“I took a sabbatical to figure out all of this without losing my job. Now I need to find a place to live here.” Bekah bats her eyelashes at Jon with a smirk.

“Oh, if you think for one damn second I’m letting you live anywhere beyond next to me in bed, you must be out of your ever lovin’ mind!” Jon kisses her again. “Let’s go home and celebrate you coming to your senses, m’kay?” He chuckles.

“But you said lunch?” Bekah whined. As Jon envelopes her hand in his. The bouquet tucked in his fingers.

“We will eat. Promise.” He winks and Bekah feels a jolt through her body again.

Jon presses Bekah to the side of his car when they finally reach it. “I’m so glad you love me back.” He kisses her hard and Bekah moans in his mouth.

“You really didn’t think I loved you, Tae?” Bekah captures his cheek in her hands and runs her thumb over his lips.

“Honestly, I thought you were coming here to break up with me. Well you cannot break up with someone you haven’t officially called your boyfriend but yeah. I thought you were coming to tell me you just cannot do this anymore.” Jon’s eyes well up with the thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since February.

“Tae. I... I’m a... damnit. I’m an idiot.” Jon shakes his head.

“You aren’t an idiot Beks.  We decided not to call this anything. We are both idiots if anything.” Bekah laughs.

“Well, we might not have used the terms but the internet sure has given us a label.” Bekah smiles big up as Jon stares into her eyes.

“What?” Jon questions.

“Rin convinced me to google you. The internet has called me your girlfriend for some time now.” Bekah pulls him into her further.

“And what do you think about that label?”

“I don’t hate it.” Jon’s lips graze hers. “I’ve learned other things too.”

“Oh yeah?” Jon pulls away realizing they were in public. “Wanna tell me what you learned on the way home?”

“Sure, J Bone.” Bekah snickers.

“Merde. I think I liked it when you refused to look.” Jon looks down at his hand. “Oh, these are for you.” Jon hands her the almost forgotten bouquet of wildflowers and she breathes them in.

“Tae, no man has ever given me flowers for no reason.” Bekah slides into his car after he opens the door.

“Well get use to it Beks. You deserve it.” Jon jogs around and Bekah feels the heat in her cheeks. Jon buckles and looks over.

“Why are you flush?” Jon runs his thumb over her cheek.

“Jon, you are too good to me. I can count on one hand how many times my ex gave me flowers and that’s including Valentines Day and my birthday. We aren’t even whatever and you’ve given me flowers a few times already.” Bekah’s nose wrinkles up thinking about her ex and how polar opposite Jon was.

“Well, as I said when we met. His loss, my gain.” Jon’s jaw tightens as he backs out of the parking spot. “Speaking of birthdays, we didn’t celebrate yours.” Jon places his hand on her thigh while driving home.

“And your 30th is in what a week and a half?” Bekah's fingers dance in his hair.

“Do we need to talk about my over the hill status?”

“I’m 30, Tae. Am I old?” Bekah flicks at his ear.

“There is no right answer, so I pled the 5th.” Jon smirks.

“Can Canadians do that?” The both laugh. “You aren’t old Jon.” He squeezes her thigh and looks over.

“In hockey terms 30 is kinda old. When your career starts before you are 20 by the time 30 hits you start to feel old Beks.” He flinches.

“Well we need to celebrate and I’m not taking no for an answer Tazer.” Bekah bites the inside of her cheek waiting for his response to another nickname she learned.

“I really liked when you didn’t know all the dirt Google has on me.” Jon grabs her hand and brings it to his lips.

“And crowd surfing Tae? Now that was a video.”

“Oh. My. God. Please stop.” Jon’s face starts to turn pink.

“The French interviews.... oof. Is it hot in here?” Bekah fans herself.

“Beks.” His face gets hotter.

“I’ve never seen you so... so... embarrassed. It’s kinda sexy.” Bekah squeezes his hand and he smiles.

“Not sure that is the case but thanks.” They pulled in to his home. “Welcome home-ish.” Jon looks over not sure what she will say and sees Bekah smile. “That smile is what I’m talking about. I was afraid I was gonna get kick back for that.”

“How long are we staying in Chicago for?” Bekah opens the door and Jon already has jumped out and is retrieving her bags.

“We can talk calendar later and I think a few trips are in order since we can actually vacation together.” Jon dips down and places his lips on hers.

“So Tae, which room is mine then? The one guest bed is super comfy.” Bekah twirls as she enters and starts to head upstairs. She looks back at a dumbfounded Jon.

“All of them Beks. All the rooms are yours!” He some how bounds up the steps with both her suitcases in hand making it look easy.

“Well fuck that was hot.” Bekah turns back and keeps going.

“No kiss for that Beks? Come on!” Jon shouts as he follows her up.

“I was thinking of something better since I guess you are officially have boyfriend status.” Bekah reached his master bedroom door frame and slinks out of her tank dress to reveal the navy blue lingerie set that was maybe the most uncomfortable thing to travel in but Jon’s face was fully worth it.

“Holy fuck Beks. You’ve had that on the whole time?” He drops the bags in the middle of the hall almost runs to her, pulling Bekah up into his arms. Bringing her core right to his waist. She wraps her legs around him.

“I was hoping my declaration of love would be well received.” She breathes out. “And that TSA wouldn’t want to do a strip search.” Jon chuckles.

“I would have driven faster if I knew this was hiding under that cute dress.” Jon brings one hand up and behind him without letting her go. His hand pulls his shirt off his body then lets it fall to the floor with the slight switch of his hands on her ass. Bekah’s lips ghosting his pulse points and Adam’s apple then sucks along the base of his neck while Jon pulls her up his abs to remove his jeans.

“How are you undressing without putting me down?” Bekah leans back and takes in Jon’s lack of clothing. Without answering Jon presses Bekah into the wall and she feels how rock hard he is. “Tae.” She breathes in the heat that has ignited between them.

“Yes Beks?” Jon slides his lips from her ear to the top of the lace. Nibbling at her exposed breasts.

“Make love to me.” She smiles remembering Sedona and the way he looked at her then. Now she wonders in that instant how long she had been fighting this love they shared.

“Happily. Je vais prendre soin de vous, mon amour.” Jon whispers before capturing her lips in his.

“Translation please.” Bekah moans when he moves to peppering her jawline then back to her neck.

“I’ll take care of you, My Love.” Jon whispers and carries Bekah to his bed.

“Damnit I need to learn French.” Bekah sucks in as Jon lays on top of her.

“I’ll teach you Baby.” His concentration was on worshiping her body and less on their conversation. Each swipe of his lips and tongue caused a different sound to escape Bekah’s lips. “Do you want me to take this off...” his hand grazes the bottom of her breast and down the corset. “Or would you prefer to keep it on?” He moves lower running his finger between the delicate lace and her hip.

“Up to you Tae.” She breathes out. “It’s all for you.” His eyebrows furrowed for a moment then he lowers the panties and tosses them to the side.

“Definitely don’t need those.” His fingers slide down for a moment. “Now this...” his fingers run up the wire of the corset. Bekah’s muscles reacting to his touch. “this let me think about.” He smirks then kisses her hip moving across to her other hip then her core. All Bekah could think about on the plane ride was his reaction so her body was already all worked up. “Beks, you are so wet!” He licks through her folds and she melts under this touch. His hand glides back up to cup her breast. She captures it in hers and he looks up.

“I’ve been thinking about having you inside of me since the moment I put this on this morning. My clit has been throbbing since you held me in the airport.” Bekah breathes out and without responding, Jon pushes his boxers off his body and slides up to kiss her lips.

“As you wish.” Jon bites at her lip and thrusts in. Bekah moans as the familiar stretch sends a shock wave throughout her body. His hand pulls at her leg so he can deepen himself but doesn’t let his lips off her body for more than a second. Every thrust of his hips causes the room to be filled moans and grunts. Bekah grabs his back as she feels her orgasm build. “Let it go baby. I got you.” Jon’s hand snakes around Bekah’s back and holds her in place as she hits her high only slowing his motion for a moment before snapping his hips back into her with a force that moves both of them up the bed.

“Jon...”. Bekah moans loudly. Jon captures her lips on his again.

“I know Baby. I’m there, Love. Come with me.” Jon whispers and sends both of them reaching their highs. He rides them through it and crashes onto Bekah’s chest. Both gasping for air. Jon rolls over and pulls Bekah to his chest.

“Wow. If I knew telling you that I loved you would cause that...” Bekah finally breaks the blissed out silence. Jon laughs in her ear.

“And we can do this whenever we want since we don’t have to worry when one of us is leaving.” Jon kisses her temple. “Which sounds so damn amazing.” Bekah hums in agreement and her stomach growls. “Fuck, lunch. I’ll make lunch. Give me like 10 minutes.” He kisses her and slips out of bed. Bekah whistles as he bends over to pull on his briefs.

She slides out and grabs a t-shirt of Jon’s out of his drawer. She finds her way to his game room. Her fingers run along each jersey. Wondering what Jon was like playing in each one. “Whatcha doin’ there Beks?” Jon leans against the door frame with a sandwich for her.

“Did I know you for any of these?” She points to his wall of jerseys. He nods and points. “And you have rings and medals and such somewhere, right?” Jon places the plate on his ping pong table and wraps his arms around Bekah.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you want to see?” Jon kisses the top of her head and leads her to a safe off in the corner. Punching in the code he opens it up to reveal his rings and medals and other priceless items.

“Wow Tae.” She laughs picking up the gold medal from Sochi with a nod of approval from him and places it around her neck. Jon tightens his grip around her.

“That medal has never looks so good.” He picks her up kissing her hard.

“You’ve got some serious hardware, Captain.” Bekah bites her lip and Jon’s eyes narrow.

“Want me to show you some hardware Baby?” He groans while pressing her again the wall. He pulls down his briefs and slides into her the gold from his medal cold on his abdomen.

“Oh. Tae.” Bekah kisses him hard and feels him deep inside her. She leans her head back against the wall as he rocks into her. She feels the weight of the medal and her orgasm as he presses her harder into the wall his head buried in her neck. He releases deep inside her and pumps slowly as she comes down from her high. Bekah grabs the medal as he kisses her softly and lowers her back down. Flicking his briefs back on Jon smirks down at her.

“Let me get that.” Jon slowly pulls the medal off her neck and places it back where it goes. Slowly he turns to look at her with a glimmer in his eye.

“What’s that look for?” Bekah walks towards her sandwich feeling her stomach about to start growling again.

“Nothin’” Jon follows her and wraps her up in his arms.

“That face doesn’t say nothing.” Bekah takes a bite and looks back at Jon.

“Well the boys were chirping me about you not really liking hockey or caring about all this.” He points to the things on the wall. “Kaner asked if you’ve even seen my gold medals yet?” Jon laughs a little. “Now that will be forever in my head when I talk about my Olympic wins.”

“Oh great.” Bekah huffed out and Jon laughs hard. “I’m sorry. Can we go back to the boys chirping you about me?” Bekah shifts her body to face Jon.

“Oh you caught that, eh?” Jon smiles.

“Ope...for sure I did.” Bekah’s eyes narrow.

“Beks, the team knows who you are because they’ve seen you and regardless of what we called this until now I haven’t shut up about you. They were all worried the spotlight was keeping you at a distance and you were going to break my heart.” Jon kisses her forehead.

“I... I... I don’t really know how to process that Tae.” Bekah looks up at him and places her chin on his chest.

“You don’t have to process it now. You will officially meet the guys and their wives and such slowly so don’t worry. Summer is here and we all spread out. Speaking of, let’s talk vacation.” Jon and Bekah’s eyes both light up at the thought of traveling.

[eryiss]

Chapter Two - The Handyman

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. This is the second chapter, and from now on it’ll be updated weekly. Hope you enjoy it.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Two – The Handyman

"Fucks sake. Fucking bitch."

"That's not the way to talk to a lady, Laxus. Damn."

"I ain't talkin' to a lady, I'm talking to this piece of shit."

With an angered huff, Laxus slammed down the screwdriver and allowed it to clatter against the small tray of tools. On the table was the industrial toaster that Laxus had been attempting to fix for the better half of the morning, with an only slightly warm piece of bread resting pitifully on the wire rack, practically mocking Laxus with its lack of any toast-like qualities. It was the sixth time that year that the machine had decided to work, and Laxus had grown to have a vendetta against the fucking thing.

But he wasn't going to let it win. He had singlehandedly fixed practically every electric device in Fairy Tail since becoming the handyman, and he would be damned if the fucking toaster was his downfall. He'd conquered faulty boilers, crappy wiring and, on one condition, a disgusting issue with sewage backup over the past year alone. A toaster was nothing.

"Just make your grandad buy a new one," Cana laughed as she walked further into the hotel's breakroom. "It's like twenty years old, probably only makes the bread darker because of an oil leak."

"I ain't getting it replaced," Laxus snapped, glaring at the open circuitry of the machine with probably too much hatred for what the situation deserved. "If it gets it replaced, then the fucking things knows that it's won."

"It's a toaster dude," Cana deadpanned.

"Don't give a shit," Laxus groaned, leaning back in the chair so the forelegs left the floor, resting his arms behind his head. "You meant to be working today?"

"Yeah. Apparently there's some big group coming for lunch and they need extra wait staff, so Gramps called me. And I'm working the bar later," Cana shrugged, taking out a chair and straddling it; because of course she did. "You?"

"Room seven had a flickering light, needed fixing," Laxus sighed. "Thought I might as well work on this thing while I'm here."

The blonde looked around the small room, eyes flittering towards the clock and sighing. He'd been drinking the night before and had it not been for his grandfather's seven AM phone call worrying about the supposed 'lawsuit waiting to happen' he would probably only just be getting out of bed after nursing a light hangover. He'd been able to wrangle a free breakfast from Mirajane, at least, but he would trade that in for his covers at that moment. At least when he was planning to feel sorry for himself about his hangover, he had something to do. Now he just had a day of nothing.

His work was fine, but inconsistent. He did any repairs that was needed at his grandfather's hotel, be that plumbing, electric work, or just helping out when it was understaffed. But Makarov kept a tight ship, and had good relationships with his staff so absences only happened when needed. So, Laxus was often left with little to do.

It was a nice problem to have, but Laxus didn't intend to be impartial.

This was the issue in living in a small town for all of your life, being forced to either thrive there or break free from it. He liked Magnolia, the area was beautiful and his childhood there had been good, but he was limited by living there. A degree in electrical engineering wasn't worth much when the only relevant job available was at a mechanics shop where he'd once bashed in the teeth of the owner's son. The miserable old bastard should have forgiven him by now; it'd been six years.

Which was why he was grateful for his grandfather giving him the job. He got to put his degree to use, even if on crappy toasters, and made a living. But it was a boring existence, and the reason why Laxus found himself on job searchers websites at least twice a week.

"You gonna eat that?" Cana asked, going towards the warmed but not toasted bread.

"No," Laxus furrowed his brows. "Are you?"

"I'm poor, man," Cana laughed, picking up the bread and eating it.

"I've seen the cupboard where you keep your booze, you ain't 'stealing warm. crappy bread poor' yet," Laxus deadpanned, and Cana laughed as she ate her bread; she didn't even put fucking butter on it. "And you get twice the number of tips than me when we work the bar together. Where's it going?"

"Booze cupboard," Cana grinned.

"You'll fuck up your kidneys, you know."

"I'll get an operation and replace 'em," Cana laughed, swallowing a bite of bread. "Speaking of being split open and things going inside, you fucked anyone lately?"

"Fuckin hell!" Laxus exclaimed, wide eyes darting towards the woman who was now openly laughing.

This was something that his friend brought up often, and as such she had lost all tact about it. The two of them were some of the only openly gay people in Magnolia – at least to their knowledge – and therefore had some annoying kinship when it came to their relationships. It had started as them both feeling sorry for themselves, as they had nobody to date. Somehow, it had devolved into a friendship where Cana felt perfectly comfortable talking about what Laxus was planning on doing, or had done, in his bed.

Worse still, Laxus didn't have the same opportunity to make fun of her. Cana was openly besotted with Mirajane, and had long since lost any shame about it. Cana could joke about Laxus falling in love with any man he saw, but Laxus couldn't do the same because they both knew Mirajane was the only woman for her.

Selfish asshole.

"You're gonna fuck all of hell? You must have more time on your hands," Cana laughed, and Laxus stood up with a groan. "Aw, come on man, don't leave."

"I'm gonna go see if one of the toilets needs to be unblocked," Laxus grunted, walking towards the door of the breakroom. "Seems more pleasant than talking t' you."

"Oh how you wound me, I think I might cry," Cana spoke in possibly the most sarcastic voice possible.

"Go suck on yer crushes clit," Laxus muttered.

"Had a good few dreams about that, my man," Cana grinned, before adding in a less teasing tone. "And Lisanna said she wants to talk to you later, so find her once you're done scrubbing the shitter," A smirk formed on her features again. "Maybe she wants to set you up with her brother. You'd be a hot ass couple."

"Fuck yourself."

"Imagine the carnage though. The two of ya could break beds faster than an over eager lumberjack."

Laxus didn't respond, and lifted his middle finger to the woman as he left the room.

~~~

There had been no toilets in need of being cleaned, thankfully, but Laxus had been able to keep himself busy for the morning. It had been mainly small and inconsequential jobs, such as removing leaves from the guttering before a build-up formed and checking that supply of complimentary soap wasn't running low, before he ended up back in the break room and working on the toaster.

It wasn't going well, and the patrons would have to deal with the break rooms single slice toaster for at least another day, but at least Cana was working the restaurant for the lunch shift rather than being there to annoy him. He hoped that the table was full of obnoxious people who didn't know what they wanted and refused to tip.

He gulped down half a can of Red Bull, and groaned as he fought the urge to check toaster prices online.

After cracking his back, he stood up and ran a hand through his hair. He quickly checked himself out in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable before leaving the break room; he may not be part of the service-staff, but he still needed to look good to represent the hotel. Normally he wouldn't have to worry about this – his contact with guests was limited – but if he was going to speak to Lisanna, as Cana had claimed he should, then it was almost definite that he'd be in the public eye for a few minutes at least. He didn't look too bad for someone who'd nearly vomited over a plate of cheese fries the night before.

Lisanna was working at the office attached to the front desk, doing some kind of admin that Laxus didn't care enough about to understand. He walked in and, once she looked up from the monitor, she grinned at him. Laxus didn't frown, but the urge was there. The two of them weren't particularly close.

"Hi," She greeted, annoyingly cheerfully. "I didn't know if Cana had passed on the message."

"Well, here I am," Laxus shrugged.

"There you are," She said with a smile, then waved towards one of the other desk chairs populating the cramped room. Laxus took a seat. "So, I've got something I thought you could help with. A proposition I guess."

Laxus paused for a moment. She wasn't actually going to try and set him up with Elfman, was she? That would be weird, Elfman wasn't Laxus' type.

"There's this guest, you see, who checked in yesterday," She began, before stopping herself. "No, that's not important. Well it is, but not right now," Laxus stayed quiet. Lisanna was a talkative person, and could probably have an entire conversation with herself. "You know Albion house, the old cottage on the outskirts of town that's' all run down."

"Yeah," Laxus nodded, confused. "Think I made up some crap about it being haunted when I was a kid."

"That's the place- that was you! Mirajane told me when I was eight and I had nightmare for weeks, you asshole," Lisanna chastised, and Laxus didn't hide the smirk at the admission. "Whatever, we can talk about that later. Anyway, it recently got a new owner, you see. And I was talking to him last night and a bit during breakfast. So he doesn't know what to do because he can't knock it down and sell the land, and the house is kind of crappy so nobody's actually gonna wanna pay any real money for it, right. So he's kinda stuck; I think he needs the money for something, I didn't wanna ask."

Did she talk to the guests this much?

This was why Laxus always booked into big corporate hotels whenever he stayed away.

"Getting off topic, sorry," She shook her head. "So, I was talking to the new owner, and he thought maybe he could get it sold for more money if it was more functional. Not a total refurbishment or anything, just making sure the lights work and the floorboards won't crumble underfoot. And he's not from the area, so he doesn't know any builders or plumbers or anyone he'll need."

She then stopped talking, and began grinning at Laxus expectantly. "And?"

"Really conforming to the stereotype of strong men being dumb," She muttered, and Laxus found himself happy that his ghost story had apparently given her nightmares. "And I said that we've got a kickass handyman working here part time who could probably help you out. I told him about all the stuff you do around here, and he said he'd be interested in meeting with you!"

"You got me a job interview?" Laxus said, taken aback slightly.

"Well, I don't think it's that formal, but kinda," She grinned. "I heard you're looking for a project to work on, and he said he's willing to pay you for your time if you're any good."

Laxus leant back in the chair, closing his eyes slightly. He didn't have a reputation for reacting particularly well to surprises, and this was rather a big one. Because a woman he barely actually knew had done something pretty damn big for him.

Working on property was something Laxus had been curious about, and it had seemed to be plausible for him. It was essentially what he was doing in the hotel, just on a larger scale and possibly with more of a challenge, which Laxus liked the sound of. There had been a few months where he'd watched house renovation shows when he could, to see if he could get a better understanding on how the field worked. He very quickly learned that, to do what he wanted, he needed the money to buy some run down property to renovate. Money which he didn't have, given he was a handyman working part time in a hotel.

So to have an opportunity given to him out of nowhere was a little overwhelming.

Because it could really help him out. He was more than qualified to modernise a house's inner workings, and was willing to put the work in. And if it went well, he would at worst end up with more experience, some extra money and perhaps a good reference he could give to some other housing developers. It could actually be really good.

Of course, that meant Laxus was immediately distrustful of the offer. Because things didn't just happen.

"So this guy is just gonna trust some random stranger?"

"I think he's kind of desperate, really," Lisanna laughed, a pitying expression on her face. "I think he wants to get out of here as quickly as he can, he's a city boy. But that doesn't matter. He seems like a nice man, and it's not like you can't do the work he wants. You might as well talk to him, see if it works out," She shrugged. "He's in the restaurant I think. I said I'd bring him over if you were interested."

"Erm," Laxus mumbled. "Fuck it, why not?"

The majority of the walk towards the restaurant was spent with Laxus trying to rationalise exactly what had just happened. He glanced at his reflection whenever he could, because if this was as much an opportunity as Lisanna seemed to think that it was, Laxus needed to make a good first impression.

When they walked into the restaurant, Lisanna seemed to scan the room before spotting the person she was looking for. She started to walk again and Laxus followed, eyes eventually settling on the man sitting at the window table.

He wasn't what Laxus expected.

Having expected a stuffy old man, in his fifties and balding, Laxus felt wrongfooted. The man was almost certainly a few years younger than Laxus. He had long and green hair, tied high in a ponytail. He was wearing a sharp looking suit that Laxus didn't recognise the brand of. His facial features were sharp and well structured, no doubt the rest of his body just as maintained under his clothing. As Laxus got closer he could smell a mix of some sharp and cool cologne, and the floral scent left by the clothes' steamers put in every room. When he looked up to Laxus he had sharp and inviting blue eyes, and a somewhat enigmatic expression.

Laxus might be inclined to call him a pretty boy, had his expression been a little less intense.

Just his type. Aesthetically, anyway.

"Mr Justine," Lisanna said in greeting. "How'd your lunch?"

"Very pleasant," The man said, glancing for a second to the chicken salad he was eating and then back to Laxus.

"This is the man I told you about, our handyman," Lisanna explained, nudging Laxus. The blonde stepped forward and offered his hand to shake. The man did so, with a firm grasp.

"Laxus," The blonde said. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"You too," The man replied, and Laxus couldn't help but notice how smooth his voice was. But it wasn't the time, so he retracted his hand as the other man spoke. "I'm Freed, as you've perhaps been told. I expect your colleague has explained why I wish to speak with you?"

"The Albion House, right?" Laxus asked. "You got lumbered with the place and need help with the electrics."

"Essentially, yes," Freed nodded. "The only thing that's actually remained intact is the building's structure. The wiring, the plumbing, the heating system, and I'm sure there's a lot more that I'm not aware of that has also been destroyed. I wish to get the building to a point where it's functioning so I can sell it. It doesn't need to be nice to look at, just work. Is that something you think you can do?"

"Well, I'm good with all that shit- stuff," Laxus winced, glancing at the table, and missing the amused expression on Freed's face. "I've done a lot of work here, and in some other houses when they need it. Unless there's some really unusual crap, I should be fine."

"Take a seat, Mr Dreyar."

At the sudden request, Laxus found himself doing what he was told. He sat opposite Freed, and waited a little awkwardly while Freed ordered another tea for himself. He thought about telling him that Lisanna wasn't actually part of the wait-staff, but she smiled and said it'll be right out before retreating to the kitchen. He frowned as she walked away, only to quickly turn back and give him two thumbs up and a large smile. He almost rolled his eyes at the stupid action, but looked back to the man who might soon employ him.

"I think it's best we be honest with one another," Freed continued, and Laxus nodded slightly. "I have no interest nor practical skill when it comes to homeownership and renovations. I can learn, and I'm not an impractical man in general, but a lot of the work will be done by you."

"I can do that," Laxus said with a nod. "How would that work with the, erm… payment, if that ain't too forward?"

"No, that's fair," Freed said, pulling out his phone from his breast pocket. "I haven't had long to look into it, but I plan to pay you by the hour; I don't know how long it will take, so I thought that made more sense than a single payment. I'll clarify how much you get each hour when I find out the average pay a skilled workman gets. Of course we can debate this if you don't think it's fair, but I expect it'll be a good wage"

Laxus probably looked a bit stupid for a moment. He was expecting either a vague answer or a simple 'I'll pay you a grand and expect it to be done by the end of the month.' Not a lot of… legal sounding crap.

"That sounds good," Laxus said after a moment, nodding. "How bad's the house, if y' know? The outside ain't great but I'd like to know what I'm getting into."

"The outside is the best part, I'm afraid," Freed chuckled a little bitterly, and Laxus glanced up at his face again. On his handsome features – and damn, up close they were pretty handsome – there were slight lines of worry beside his eyes. "I didn't take many pictures as I wasn't in the best of moods, but this is fairly reflective of the entire place."

Freed flicked on his phone a few times, and then showed his screen to Laxus. It took a few seconds for Laxus to actually understand what that was, and when he did he let out an almost impressed sigh and leant back in his chair.

"That's the circuit box?" He laughed, and Freed nodded. "It looks like…"

"It had a violent orgy with a jackhammer, baseball bat and a box of explosives?" Freed completed, and Laxus let out a short bark of laughter, shocking himself.

"Fuck, sorry. I shouldn't laugh," Laxus winced, though he was grinning. When he glanced towards Freed again, he openly saw him smirking at him. If nothing else, at least this proved his boss had a sense of humour. "I didn't expect it, sorry. It does look pretty bad though, if the rest of the house is like that then it's probably gonna take a while to get the place in a liveable state."

"I assumed as much," Freed said with a sigh. "I only intend to stay here for a week, I should clarify. My office may allow me to extend that for another week. I'm hoping that, by then, you'll have begun work and can do so without me. I'll keep in regular contact of course, but I won't be here in person often."

"That's okay. I can deal with that," Laxus nodded as he spoke. He liked working alone. "What do you do, if you don't mind me askin'?"

"I'm a lawyer," Freed waved his hand as he returned his phone to his jacket pocket.

"Fuck. That's pretty-" Hot. "Impressive."

"Thank you," Freed nodded a little. "I don't mean to be abrupt, but I've got to clear some details up with my office, so I'll have to leave you," He pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket. "Here's my card, call me in the evening. We'll discuss things further then. Good day, Laxus."

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "Speak later."

Freed nodded, and left the restaurant. Laxus allowed his eyes to trail over his retreating figure, roaming over his broad shoulders to his taut waist, then, for a split-second, to his ass. He glanced away, only to see Cana watching him with a judgmental, shit-eating grin.

"I'm gonna fix the fucking toaster," Laxus muttered with a slight blush, standing abruptly. Cana kept smirking. "Fuck off."

[prorevenge]

I fought the Law, and the Law won. ..a Sparkies Tale.

One Wednesday in Rural Australia, I was doing work in The Police Station, running dedicated essential power circuits for some new fancy gear they had coming. No-one else at my work had the clearance yet to work in this room, so I was solo this day. This Station was a Combined Regional Command, and quite big. Uniform, Patrol, Detectives, Crime Scene, K9.. the whole show.

I’d been doing work here for a few years, and gotten to know a lot of the members (also did some after hours non-electrical work in their social club for drinks). Around 11am, a Patrol Officer came in to see the Shift Sergeant. A minute later, they go outside. A minute after that four more Police go outside. A few minutes later, one of the Detectives I know says to me, “you gotta see this..”, so I go outside.

One of the new Patrol members, fresh from academy, had run a car into the Station carpark main exit gate. There was now quite the crowd of mixed Police gathered around the vandal and car. Station OIC (Officer in Charge - long title and good bloke) was there as well. I hang back a bit, amazed. I’d only finished doing all the power and controls for this new sliding gate a few months earlier.

This gate was 5m/16’ long, ran along a roller track set into concrete, had toothed racking along it for the motor cog to drive. I’d put in the power, set-up the motor and controls, the exit induction loop (like at traffic lights, a car goes over the loop, it detects the car. I fucking love electromagnetism.), the swipe card access, the new cameras..everything. It was a lovely gate. (the best part is taking a big petrol powered saw, and cutting the grooves in the road for the coil. Have a go with one of those saws. I dare you to not ‘Tim Allen’ while you do.)

Looking at the damage, the cars bull-bar has hit the gates frame at an angle, while the gate was opening. Broken teeth on some racking, scratched up gate, and god only knows what to the motor. I pretend I’m invisible, and turn to go back inside.. only to be face-to-face with OIC.

OIC (smiling) - “Nice warm day, huh. I expect you’re about..” (he gets cut off by my phone ringing)

He looks at me, nods his head to my shirt pocket. (He’s smiling because it’s ~11am and already 38C/100F. It’s forecasted to get to 44C/111F in the shade today. And this gate is in full sun.) The call is from my office.. “Damaged gate at The Police Station. Gov’t Works Dept has said that OIC has asked personally that you do the job, since you are already on-site.” During my conversation with the office, OIC pats me on the shoulder and walks away. I think he’s enjoying making me work on it, because I’d put some electrical tape over the laser on his mouse a week earlier. On a dare from one of the Sergeants.

I tidy up the work I was doing, grab the keys to the motor/controls box, and have a look. Broken welds on two of the motor mounts. Well, this day is fucked. The gate is still working, but is not happy. It could stop working altogether if the other two welds break. It’s the designated exit for operational reasons, and they want it fixed now.

Calling the supplier, they act surprised and want the damaged base plate for testing. I leave to go get a new a new one. The work will involve taking out the motor and controls, changing the base plate, then putting it all back together. As well as replacing the damaged sections of racking, and realigning everything. While kneeling/sitting/laying on the bitumen. In the full sun.

Let me tell you about a couple of things that piss me off at work - on a hot day, while you’re on a roof/in a ceiling etc, ‘comedians’ saying “Warm enough for ya?” - while you have tools out and are obviously still working, ‘comedians’ saying “You finished yet?” I’ve learned that the best response is to ignore them. Because other responses lead to paperwork.

10 mins after I start the repairs, I get my first “Warm enough for ya?” from Detectives coming in the entrance gate nearby. 5 mins after that I get the first “You finished yet?” from Crime Scene leaving through the open exit gate. These comments and more, and a few vehicles coming up behind me and sounding the siren. Police outside having a smoke also wander over to give me shit. All this goes on constantly for the whole time I’m there. I’m so pissed off, they can all tell. But seriously, it would be madness to lose your shit at the Police, so I fume in silence. Until..

At ~2.30pm, it’s about 50C/120F on the bitumen, I have cuts and blood on my knuckles, am royally pissed off, am laying down doing the final alignment of the racking, get a shoe nudge in my back and hear..

Gruff Voice - “You finished yet?”

Well. I’m not sure if I decide to lose my shit, or it’s just involuntary Hulk-rage. As I’m getting up I’m saying..

Me (controlled anger, but a bit loud) - “For fucks’ sake, will..” (I stop, because I’m now standing, and face-to-face with OIC.

OIC (smiling, handing me a sports drink) - “Here you go. Just remember next time you go to prank me, I have so many ways I can mess with you.”

He pats me on the shoulder and turns to walk away. He stops to ask “Seriously though, is it fixed?”. I just nod. He walks off back to his aircon.

I found out later that he had “made a suggestion” (basically an order) to his whole command, to annoy the shit out of me while I was working at the gate. He must have seen all the available pieces for his fuckery while looking at the car earlier, and put them into play. The whole local Police Force. I never messed with him again.

It’s not often I get got, but he got me good. Fair play.

Thank you for reading.

Glossary

Bitumen - road surface/black top. When it’s really hot weather for a while, the tar in it will melt and stick to your car. Car Detailers like the hot weather.

Essential Circuits - are for equipment that must continue to work through a power outage. They are powered by an industrial UPS and/or generator. The batteries for this particular industrial UPSs are big and heavy. Taller people get to replace the ones on the top shelf. Every. Fucking. Time.

UPS - Uninterrupted Power Supply. The regular domestic/commercial ones are the black box that beeps under your desk, that you try to ignore, then complain about. After having unplugged it to plug in your stupid desk sized lava lamp. No-one thinks your lava lamp is cool Dennis.

Tape over a Mouse Laser - is fucking hilarious to watch. I like to think it helps pass the time of bored techs at helps desks.

(source) story by (/u/OlderSparky)

[ravensimps]

Hughie’s sister Chapter 1

Hey my name is Raven Campbell, I'm 23 and I have 'Super Powers'. I can Teleport, I have Telekinesis, And I am stronger than normal people when I choose to use my strength. I have a big brother his name is Hughie and we live with our dad Hugh in New York. I have been staying at an Air BNB Cottage on the edge of town for the past 7 months to work on my powers and self-defense.

XX

I wake up to my alarm blaring, Throw my covers off, And get changed into training gear. I brush my hair and tie it up in a high ponytail before heading to my kitchen to make breakfast.

XX

I make my usual breakfast of Bacon, Eggs, Baked beans, and a cup of English tea. I take my breakfast to the dining room table and watch YouTube videos on my phone while I eat.

XX

It's been roughly an hour since I finished my breakfast, I have been letting my stomach settle because my trainer told me to wait at least an hour between breakfast and training or I will feel sick when I do train.

I put my dishes in the sink, grab a bottle of water from my fridge, And head to the gym.

XX

5 hours of physical training later and I am finally home.

I did a normal workout, Cardio, Weights, Resistance, Etc. I have also been learning Muay Thai, Jujutsu, And Taekwondo. I painfully slowly walk into my bathroom, Strip, And hop in the shower.

XX

I get out of the shower 40 minutes later.

I dry my body and get dressed in Black leggings, An oversized grey sweater, And black ugg boots. I blow dry my hair, Brush it, And leave it down in its natural wavy state. "Grrbrrgugrlegurgle" My stomach growls extremely loudly drawing attention to the fact I have not eaten in about 7 hours. I grab my laptop, Phone, Earphones, And head into the kitchen.

I put my stuff down on the kitchen table and go look through my fridge.

XX

40 Minutes later I have made chicken breast, Potato wedges, And Baked beans. I take a can of cherry cola out of the fridge and take my dinner over to the table.

I start watching the TV show Lucifer while I eat.

XX

45 Minutes later I finished my food and episode, I put my dishes in the sink, grab my stuff from the table, and walk into the living room.

I turn the tv on and sit on the sofa Indian style.

"And now a statement from A-Train" I scoff but look at the TV, The headline reads 'A-Train offers deepest condolences' I tilt my head and turn the volume up "My deepest condolences to Robin Ward's family. I was chasing these bank robbers, She just stepped in the middle of the street and I-I couldn't" I turn the TV off "Robin Ward? Why does that sound familiar?" I whisper racking my brain..."Oh my god!" That's my brother's girlfriend's name! I close my laptop, Grab my phone, Earphones, And focus on my brother's workplace. "Bryman Audio Visual" I repeat over and over, I close my eyes and use my teleportation power.

XX

I open my eyes 10 seconds later and I'm...Across the street from the store! Thank god I did it right! I take a deep breath and walk over to the store.

A man in his late 40's early 50's walks out of the store and smiles at me as he holds the door for me "Hughie?!" I ask recognizing his poofy hair "Raven?!" I nod, run behind the counter, And he gives me a bear hug. "The girl on the news was that-" He pulls back tears in his eyes and nods "Oh Hughie" I pull him back into a hug "S-She wasn't in t-the s-street, S-She was 1 step o-off the c-curb" He cries "I know Hughie, I could see the Bull in his apology" He pulls back and wipes away his tears "Look at you!" He yells making me laugh "You're smaller than I remember" I playfully elbow him in the ribs "Hey!" We both laugh, We stop laughing as we hear the Ding signaling someone entering the store.

"Sorry we're closing up" Hughie and I look at the door but there's no one there? "Hello?" We hear footsteps walk over, I am so confused!

"Who are you?" Hughie and I jump back as we hear a male voice "The fuck?" Hughie asks looking around "Right in front of you Prick, You think I wouldn't find this thing?" The person/Voice/Thing, Drops a small round black disk on the counter, Hughie's I'd badge starts floating "Hughie" The Person mocks and slams Hughie face-first onto the glass counter cracking it "Hey!" I yell as Hughie is now pulled over the counter and onto the floor "You pussy, I followed you from the fucking Tower" Hughie is lifted up in the air and thrown into the store glass window "Stop!" I yell and try to run over to Hughie but the person grabs me by the throat "I'm not one to hit girls but don't FUCKING push me" He lets go of me, rips a freaking TV out of the wall, and lifts it up over his head! "Who's the guy you were with in the car?! He put you up to this!?" The invisible man asks and poor Hughie is panicking "I don't know, He was just some uber driver! Ok?!" I run around the floating TV and crouch beside Hughie "Do you think I'm some fucking idiot? Why'd you plant the bug?" He's going to kill Hughie maybe me too and I can't freaking do anything! "Please, No, Please, Please!" Hughie pleads "We're the Seven, Earth's most mighty, Champions of the innocent, Motherfucker!" As he prepares to slam the TV on Hughie and I, A Freaking Car crashes through the store wall and throws the invisible guy into the far wall "I'm so sorry Hughie, I'm useless and I couldn't see him" He smiles a little at me, A guy around 6ft, Dressed in black, with messy hair, A beard, and Hazelnut eyes gets out of the car. "Sorry about the mess" He says with a Cockney/ English accent "Huh" I didn't expect that "You should fuck off Hughie" He says with a crowbar in hand "Hughie run! Well, Well, Well if it ain't the invisible cunt" I hear the smirk in his voice as Hughie and I head for the back door.

Hughie and I get to the back exit, He opens the door, but doesn't go out "I know that look" I smile at Hughie as he looks back "I have an idea" He mumbles and we slowly walk back to the front.

We get to the front of the store just as the Invisible guy sweeps cockney guys legs out from under him and kicked him in the face "So who are you? Fucking spy?! For who? Huh? You're gonna tell me or I'm gonna smash your fucking scalp off!" Invisible guy yells grabbing the crowbar Cockney guy brought, Hughie creeps behind invisible guy and waits "Who are you?!" Invisible guy screams "I'll tell you who you are, A fucking moron" Wow Cockney is ballsy, Hughie now grabs the TV cable from the wall " 'Translucent' doesn't even mean 'Invisible', It means 'Semi-Transparent'" Hughie tries to hit? shock? The Invisible guy but the cable is too short, Invisible guy looks back at Hughie then at me, While he looks at me Cockney takes the opportunity to kick him into the cable Hughie is holding! Hughie starts screaming and I look at the Cockney guy in awe? Fascination? Something and I think there's something wrong with me.

The Invisible guy or Translucent I guess falls to the floor dead? I crouch down beside Hughie "Is he...Is he dead?" Hughie asks Cockney "Well he ain't moving" Cockney groans kicking the dead body "Oh fuck, Oh shit" Hughie's voice cracks as he visibly relaxes a little.

My eyes drift to Cockney again and I take a good long look at him, He is definitely 6ft ish, His hair looks super soft and fluffy, His beard isn't too long, And even under the black clothes I can see he is physically very fit, He's a very attractive man.

"Earth to Raven" Hughie snaps his fingers in my face "What?" I blush looking away from the now smirking Cockney "Good job, Let's get him in the boot" He continues smirking as he lifts up the top half of the body "Wait, What?" Hughie is still in shock I think "The trunk" The guy locks eyes with me and I look away as Hughie panics "What are we doing with him?" Hughie asks "Well Hughie, You just offed one of the Seven mate" That's who he was...Shit!

"Me? I...You hit him with a fucking car!" I might be crazy but I find this hilarious, I start laughing and Hughie looks at me like I am crazy "Look potato fucking po-tah-to, We're in a shit load of trouble" Cockney glares dropping the body and I stop laughing he looks scary "No! No! We're not! He attacked us, Ok? And you're - you're a federal officer, You know? Just-Just call the fucking FBI" The guy stops glaring and looks between Hughie and I "Yeah o-ok, So look technically I'm not a fed" I groan "WHAT!? THEN WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Hughie yells his voice cracking and I burst out laughing "I-I'm sorry I don't know what's wrong with me" I choke making the Cockney guy smirk at me "So you're- you're not a fed?" Hughie asks as we hear sirens approaching "You hear that? That's the old bill. So unless you wanna explain why you've got America's favorite invisible wanker dead on the floor, Give us a fucking hand will ya?" Might be inappropriate but I can't stop thinking about how attractive Cockney is "Aw shit" Hughie sighs in defeat and helps Cockney put Translucent in the 'boot'.

About a minute later Cockney opens the car back door "In ya get Love" He smirks making me blush "Thanks" I mumble and get in the car with my head down, I sit in the middle of the back seat in silence while Cockney drives and Hughie is in the passenger seat.

XX

We have been driving for a while and it's really bothering me that I don't know Cockney's name, I lean forward between the front seats "So Hughie...You haven't introduced me to your friend" I lock eyes with Cockney and he smirks "Billy Butcher, Nice to meet ya" I smile "I'm Hughie's little sister, I'm Raven. I can stop calling you Cockney in my head now" I laugh and he smirks "How old are ya Raven?" I tilt my head "I'm 23" His look changes and the smirk gets bigger, I blush and sit back in the seat.

XX

"All right listen, I have worked for the feds. I've worked for loads of people, I'm what you might call an independent contractor. You got a problem, You call me, I solve the problem" Butcher explains breaking the silence after 5 minutes.

"Agh!" I jump and move closer to the back of Butcher's seat as there's banging and thumping in the 'boot'.

"What is that?" Hughie asks as he and Butcher look around "Imveryclosetoyouimsosorry" I blurt out as Butcher and I are so close I can feel his beard on my cheek "That's a problem, Not you Love" Butcher groans turning back around, I'm surprised he understood "Oh thank fuck he's alive! Yes! Yes he's alive! Ok pull over" Hughie yells relieved "No, No, No Hughie you don't fucking get it" This is a lot worse "This is a fuck sight worse, He's seen our faces" I groan and think of a plan...I've got nothing!

End of chapter 1!  I hope this was somewhat enjoyable.

-Ray

[a-black-pegasus]

Webs, and fright

Like if a story could be a shit post then this story would be a shit post. Ah well i git to get through these prompts and if this is what red bull at three in the morning gets ya then to bad

______________________________________________

Steve looked over into the corner and sighed with relief. "Thank goodness it's not the washing machine again...* He walked over. "Peter, come on get down from there. Its time for dinner, and we've been looking for you everywhere young man."

Peter ducked his head sheepishly. "Sorry Mr. Rogers. I just wanted to practice."

Steve tilted his head. "Practice what?"

"My web spelling," Peter grinned. "I've recently been inspired by this old movie I found about a pig and a spider."

"Charlottes web?" Steve guessed.

Peter snapped his fingers. "That's the one. Tell me, what does this look like." He backed away, crawling down the wall. "Can you read it?"

Steve pinched his nose. "Peter why are you doing this?"

"For Halloween!" He yelled, coming down and jumping to Steve's chest. "I'm going to spell out words like, 'Beware!' and 'Turn back!' for Mr. Starks annual Halloween haunted house!"

Steve pulled Peter from his chest. "Peter, it's September..."

"But the Halloween hype is already spreading on the internet!" He insisted. "And I have to practice my Webcliphary."

"Your what?'

Peter rolled his eyes and looked over to his webs. "Webs.... Calligraphy— Webcliphary!" He frowned. "It's not very good, I need more practice."

"I'm sure it's not that bad. It's supposed to say "Monster" right?"

Peter sighed. "Nooo... It's supposed to say gullible." He said sadly.

Steve pursed his lips, it looked nothing blike the word Peter had wanted. "I'm sorry."

In the next instant though, Peter was cracking up. "Haha Gotcha!"

Steve rolled his eyes and left the room, walking into the elevator. They went up to the main kitchen where Wanda waited.

"Where was he this time?" She asked.

"In the corner of the living room. Making web words."

Wanda tilted her head. "Cool, but why?"

"This is Halloween, Halloween...!" Peter began singing some crazy song. Wand giggled.

"Ah I see.... Tumblr.." she mumbled. Steve groaned, and called back the rest of the team over the speakers. Quickly, the others who were there that night came up to the table spread, and took seats.

"Well I checked the washing machines first, he wasn't there." Bruce spoke. The group muttered, and nodded in rememberence.

"Oh come on guys." Peter grabbed a roll. "That was ONE time!"

Steve chuckled. "And we will never forget it."

"One time is enough." Wanda murmered.

"Damn right." Sam agreed, stabbing his pork.

Peter stood up. "Language!"

Steves face flushed, as the rest of the table laughed.

***

Steve had volunteered to wash the dishes, and Peter volunteered to stay behind to dry, and put away, or at least to attempt to. He ran over the dishes, dragging a towel with him.

"So then, I was fighting with Bucky, and he pinned me down— but then I shot him in the eye with my web! And I could have gotten out, but I tackled him!"

Steve snickered, and put a plate in the drying rack. "You tackled Bucky?"

"Yeah!" Peter insisted. "I had him by the arm, and he couldn't shake me off at all!"

"Nice." Steve nodded.

The room went silent for a bit.

"Mr. Rogers?" Peter asked.

Steve picked up the last plate. "Yeah son?"

Peter bit his lip. "What was it like,....in your day?" Steve laughed. It was just the hesitant way peter said it that made him crack. Peters face turned pink. "I don't get it..."

"Oh Peter," he took the plate out, and pulled the drain. "It's fine." He wiped his hands on a dish towel. "You want to go to the living—" he stopped as Peter ran and jumped into his hand. "Alright, I'll take that as a yes."

Steve took a seat on the chair, Peter jumped out, and used the lamp to swing over to the couch.

"Well what do you want to know?"

Peter settled down, crossing his legs on the couch arm. "I don't know." He shrugged. "What was tv like?—I know you had movies!"

"Well. We, me and Bucky, did not have a TV. We couldn't afford one, but we did have a radio that we just about wore out. We also went to the movies several times." Steve explained.

Peter nodded. "What was your favorite movie?"

"What?" Peter questioned, his lips twitching. "Really?"

"Yeah. It was

Without missing a beat Steve answered. "Snow White."

"What?" Peter questioned, his lios twitching upwards. "Snow White? Why?"

"Well," Steve scratched his head. "It was a good movie. It had a little of everything, romance, drama, humor, fun," he rattled off. "It even had some scary parts."

"What?"

"I'm serious." Steve persuaded. "It was a scary movie for the time, no-one had really seen anything like it before. Lots of kids got nightmares about the old hag."

Peter snorted. "Did you?"

"...No."

"Liar." A voice came from the corner. Steve jumped, and saw that it was only Bucky.

"Why do you always do that?" He snorted.. "Skulk around in corners?"

Bucky showed a glint if teeth. " 'Cause I'm good at it. And you totally got nightmares from snow White."

Peter laughed as Steve tried to defend himself. "I did not have nightmares!"

"Sure, just go ahead and lie." Bucky teased. "Steve was jumping around like a over-wired chicken for a week! He wasn't the only one who was scared witless!"

"Not this story again." Steve sighed.

With a smirk Bucky continued. " I had a buddy who used to work in upholstery. He said they got a huge order to remove the seat covers in Radio City Hall, because so many kids peed themselves."

Peter doubled over laughing, causing Bucky to look sheepish. He chortled along saying. "It's not that funny."

When he was through laughing, Peter sat up. "Maybe for Halloween we can watch it."

"Halloween? That's like so far away, like almost two months..."

"Just go with it Bucky." Steve chuckled.

______________________________________________

Go.... To Google.... What I say is true on one website or another.

Thanks for reading even though this was insane. The link takes place in the same setting.

@sammigruber @sammie-skele-turtle @gatlily @nightmarejasmine @misfitsgalaxygt @obwjam @bee-wrecker @nerdqueenkat @tinyliltina @nini116 @queenofconspiracies @dc41016 @jasper-jazzle-zazzle @tiefling-trickery

https://a-black-pegasus.tumblr.com/post/177713536597/fighters

[werelywrites]

Hello! Can you do (separate) scenarios where the turtles s/o help them take a bath? Like the turtles come over to their s/o place but living in the sewers can make ya a bit smelly. So the s/o force them to take a bath/shower but obviously they barely move in it. So the s/o decides to help them. No nsfw please. And sorry if this is a lot but thank you!!!

OMG! So i had gotten this done when computer ate it!! Had to rewrite the whole thing! FORGIVE ME!!!

actually it turned out better, so although it took longer than it should have, it turned out for the better. (I’m sorry anon for taking so long!)

I hope you like it!

Enjoy!*normally, the smell didn’t bother you. The guys were very good at keeping the smell at bay with the incense and candles everywhere and they kept themselves clean (Don’s homemade soap was divine!) But they had to go through the tunnels to get to your place and on occasion the smell will cling to them and sometimes your sense of smell was just more sensitive (they also would get themselves in situations that resulted in needing a bath). This was one of those nights….

Mikey:

*He stepped into your home eagerly. Ready to hang out with you and eat pizza. Would they watch a movie tonight or would they play a video game? He didn’t care as long as whatever it was, it was with you. In his excitement, he swept you up into his arms and swung you around.

You were startled slightly and giggled. But then the smell hit your nose.

After your exclamation that he smelled. He had set you down and fidgeted a bit in embarrassment.

You suggested a quick bath.

~

He could barely fit in you tiny bathroom. The tub seemed laughably small.

Being nimble, he only had a moment of where he accidentally kicked your shelf when he tried to take his shorts off (ok so trying to kick them off his foot to catch them wasn’t a good idea but he had to, man). After everything was back in place and clothing tossed in the corner, he slunk into your tub.

He was all scrunched up and was trying his best to wash but it was very limited.

He wasn’t embarrassed at all to call for you to help.

~

Scrubbing his shell for him and he was in heaven. Churrs coming frequently. Despite how uncomfortable this might be on him, he refused to get up. Once you stopped scrubbing his shell he let out a whine.

After this he might ask to take baths at your place more often if that meant a shell massage!

Leo:

*He came across some mousers on the way and unfortunately had to get into the sewage water. He was practically at your home when it happened. So he saw no reason to go all the way back to the lair to clean up. He’d be late if he did that.

The idea of using your bath wasn’t exactly his first choice but it would be necessary.

Stepping into your home he greeted you, but before you could approach him, he held out a hand, gesturing you to not come closer and explained his predicament.

~

Was it possible your tub shrunk? He had never used it before but it always seemed bigger than it actually was. You fit in it perfectly. He knows this because he had walked in on you that one time. Seeing nothing but your head poking out of massive amount of bubbles (you had a bubble hat on too). Although he was embarrassed at the time, he had to admit it was funny seeing you like that. All that was missing was the rubber duck.

But now, after he oh-so-carefully got undressed and placed everything down carefully, he sat in your tub, the bubbles barely made it to his bent knees.

Well, better start trying to wash. This was going to be a hassle….

Just as he reached for the soap you came barreling in. You offered to help. And ignored his grumble of ‘I’m a full grown turtle I don’t need help.’

~

All the training and meditation did not prepare him for this. He tried to concentrate real hard at not to do anything embarrassing. The thing that was killing him was the simple fact that your soap smelled like you. It was intoxicating.

The rest of the night he felt dizzy, but he tried to ignore it. But he would unconsciously be sniffing himself to both calm himself and set his heart on fire. Much like what you do to him on a regular basis.

Donnie:

*He has been working on something and needed a part. He figured he’d look for the part in the dump near your home before going to drop by to see how you were doing. His intent, not to stay long but since he was in the neighbourhood, he figured why not before he was too invested on his project (he already spent a lot of time on already).

You always were patient with him when he got into projects. You’d subtly get him to take care of his basic needs, like bring him snacks/water while he worked, but you’d also be a good voice of reason when he needed to take a break.

He would argue, he was technically taking a break by visiting you but when you made the comment about the smell, he was too flustered to argue with you further when you pushed him towards the bathroom.

~

You came back to the bathroom with a back scrubber and had just touched it to his shell when he let out an odd sound that was a mixture of a churr and a screech.

Apologizing you took it away, thinking that was the wrong thing to do, when he apologized to you and told you it was nice, it just surprised him.

After a bit, you heard a snore. Shaking his shoulder he didn’t wake up. He was fast asleep.

You knew he needed the sleep badly but sleeping in the tub in such a position was not good for him. But he was not waking up and good luck getting him out of there…

Hands on your hips you result to your trump card. You made a pot of coffee.

Sluggishly he got out of the tub, subconsciously got dressed and headed toward the smell on auto pilot.

Steering him instead, towards the couch, you told him to go back to sleep. He flopped onto the plush cushions and you tucked him in.

~

He woke up later and had to admit that was one of the best naps he had ever had.

So if he ever needed a good rest, away from everything, he’d come to your place and do just that.

Raph:

*the hot water was broken at the lair and, although Don was fixing it, it wasn’t getting fixed fast enough. Raph’s need for a bath took more precedence than the embarrassment of asking you to use your bath. So there he was, trying really hard not to let is show that this was a bit uncomfortable and that he was blushing.

~

Can someone say bull in a china shop? Sure Raph is gentle and a ninja but he’s not exactly small. Managing to get into the tub he bumped into one thing, went to catch it and would immediately bump into something else. You had one of those pole shelving units in the corner of your tub that he swears all he did was look at it and it just fell! Maybe he should have just waited for Donnie to get done fixing the hot water…

You came in to see what had happened and you came in just in time to catch a rubber duck fall from a rack onto his head with a squeak, bouncing onto the ground with another small tweet in triumph. He grunted. Blush was obvious. You stifled a laugh.

You kindly offered help, which he declined, but he realized he had left the soap on the sink. You went to hand it to him when the nefarious duck tripped you slightly.

Raph’s arms shot out to catch you, but not before water sloshed about, making him slip a bit in his seat. Water and bubbles and various bathroom items everywhere. Both you and Raph couldn’t help but the laugh at the whole situation

~

The rest of the evening was filled with constant teasing each other about the whole incident. That rubber duck was placed in solitary confinement until it was done reflecting on its actions.

A/N: I had used a headcanon from here about shell scritches! You should check it out! it’s got science and stuff!

[imababblekat]

Imagine Being Dark's Form of Hope

(S/N):

slight angst?

~

The beginning of your relationship with Dark was a rough one. Spiteful words went back and forth between you both. After meeting you through your flirty co-worker Wilford, Dark had felt something terrifying with in him. You became his newest target of manipulation, but having a sharp mind you weren't going to take any of his bull. It made him mad but he kept pushing forward, unsure of why for the longest time. As for you, you still remained, putting up with his crap every day at work and eventually even outside of it. You wanted to just give up and leave, but something kept telling you to stay as well. It took a near life ending experience for the both of you to realize that there was most definitely something with deeper meaning knotting within your intertwined strings of fate.

 It had started off when you and Dark had a nasty argument at the company Christmas party. Fed up, you ignored that inner voice shouting at you to stay, and stomped off to make your way home. Unfortunately, you had been jumped walking past an alley, grabbed and forced against the wall with a knife at your throat. You didn't know who this man was, but by his extraordinary pale skin, body glitching in and out of existence, and the black colored eyes, you knew he wasn't human. Before the assailant could slice your jugular wide open, he had been ripped off of you and flung against a dumpster. From the way the atmosphere had tightened in pressure, and the how everything had grown shadowy around you, you knew your savior was Dark. He stood in front of you, peeked with rage, and in as calm as a voice he could muster with his powers spiking, he told you to run home. Few hours later, and you were still sitting on your bed shaking. Eventually Dark had popped up beside your desk, but while you called out his name with relief, he suddenly collapsed. Apparently he couldn't get away un-scaved and you worked fast to patch his wound. During that duration of close contact, thoughts and realizations ran through your minds. For you, it was that Dark wasn't as cruel as he made himself to be; towards you it was a shield to prevent himself from the fear of having something so nice it couldn't possibly be real. For Dark, it was realizing how much you actually meant to him and just how hard he had really fallen for you.

Since that night, the bond shared by you both had grown much stronger. It had all come down to you both feeling more than strong friendship. This didn't go unnoticed by others, and it filled one man with much jealousy. Wilford saw how you both loved one another so much but wouldn't say a thing, and it made him sick. There was a reason he flirted with you on the daily, and it was because he wanted you. It had been so long since he wanted something so dearly that didn't stem from his cravings of violence. Now though, especially seeing you with him of all people, Wilford felt himself twitch with envy and madness. In fact, it's what lead you to where you were now; rushing out of the companies elevator and straight for the roof.

Slamming open the heavy metal door, you were met by heavy rain pounding against your frame. You shouldn't be up here, especially during this storm, but mostly because of the thundering claps of demonic powers and sharp booms of flying bullets. Shielding your eyes from the rain with your hand, you peered over to the farthest part of the roof. You felt your heart drop, seeing Dark on the floor and bleeding out, Wilford standing over him a mess himself but triumphant none the less. His trusty golden gun was aimed down at Dark's forehead, ready to yet take another victim. Even in the face of death, your blackened entity stilled held a strong glare.

"Say Darky, how about you send lil o' (y,n) and I a postcard from hell will ya?", Wilford slurred as his finger closed around the trigger.

"NO!!!", you screamed out, pushed forward by adrenaline.

Before you or Wil’ could even realize what was happening, your body had slammed against his, sending the other ego over the slippery edge. You didn't bother to look over and see the result of the violent act you had just done, too occupied by the main reason you were here. Dropping down to your knees, you reach over and flipped Dark onto his back, resting his head in your lap. Ignoring the red stain upon your hand from touching his side, you pulled open his tattered coat and shook at the damage.

"I-I can fix this!", you stuttered out, reaching to take off your sweater and use it to apply pressure.

Before you even got it above your chest, a calloused hand had reach out and took hold of your wrist. You peered down with watered eyes to see Dark staring up at you; his eyes no longer a harsh shade but dull and grayer than his own skin. Your mouth opened to speak, but stopped when his large palm reached out weakly to rest against your cheek. Wiping away a stray tear with his thumb, a small smile graced his lips, something rarely seen but very much genuine.

"Tears never did suite you, belle. . .", his coarse voice mumbled out, nearly silenced by the still falling rain.

You choked on a sob at hearing the nickname, and what his words meant. It was an apology. An apology for all those times he tormented you to try and push back his feelings. Slowly, Dark's hand slid from your face and rested over his tortured body. Seeing his eyes close, your heart picked up and you felt cold.

"Dark?", you cried out with a cracked voice.

Upon no answer, you began to be racked by tears and wails. You leaned over, holding him close and letting yourself mourn over the one person who had managed to capture your heart. His body had always been cold, but this, this was not the same cold form you had once danced with. You cried and cried, remembering all the memories shared between you both, not noticing the clouds parting over head and the rain becoming less heavy. The sudden feeling of warmth had made your cries calm as you looked up at a blinding white light. It was certainly in the form of a man, one with wings, but because of the brightness it radiated, you could not make out fine details. When the stranger started to speak, it reminded you of a voice you'd no longer hear, just smoother and more light.

"When I had him cursed, I did not think there would be any hope for him.", the man spoke slightly appalled, then suddenly smiling down at you,"I guess it just came in a different form."

"Who. . .who are you?", you sniffled while trying to blink against the brightness.

He only smiled more, reaching down and placing his hand over Darks chest. There was a quick burst of light, and when it finished the being was gone. You stared up at the clearing sky, the mans voice hovering all around you.

"Someone with too light of a heart."

(E,c)'s eyes continued to stare above, as though looking for heaven, when something stirring in arms had quickly distracted them. Looking down you gasped seeing Dark stir, his face scrunching up before his lids slowly opened. He looked around confused, before focusing in on you. Your face, although tear stained, was by far the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. With rosey cheeks, gorgeous lips, and stunning, wide eyes, you further confirmed the entities feelings for you.

Dark furrowed his brows in a confused manner,"Correct me if I'm wrong, but angels aren't supposed to be in Hell right?"

You stared down at him for a second more, feeling something giddy start to bubble up from with in. You laughed out lightly in exhaustion, before reaching forward and hugging him tightly, feeling his strong arms wrap around you as well. Pulling back slightly, you rested your hand against his jaw line, connecting lips in a long, overdue, passionate kiss.

~xXx~

[buckyismyaesthetic]

Punk (Chap. 4)

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 1878 

Warnings: Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….

A/N:  Sorry for the long wait.  I needed some time.  I’ve got the next few chapters just about ready to go…and I’m gonna try and make them hurt ;) yay angst!

After Natasha successfully slammed you to the mat for the sixteenth time in a row you finally cried ‘uncle’ and ended the hour long workout/torture session.  You’d come here to kickbox and beat the holy hell out of a bag but a certain spider had other ideas.

“I deserve this,” you groaned.  Your chest heaved as your lungs strained for breath. The amorphous blob of a sweatshirt you insisted on wearing while exercising was soaked with sweat and made you feel as if you were slowly cooking in one of Hell’s saunas.  “This is why I hate exercising.”  Nat extended a hand to pull you to your feet but you shook your head dramatically on the mat.  “No, just leave me here to die.  I quit.  You go out and fight the good fight.  I’ll save my skills and start a nice, quiet dart league or somethin’.”  Natasha rolled her eyes and kicked your leg. “No, seriously.  I retire my knives to you.  My guns, throwing stars, all of it.  Take care of Ferd for me.  Tell him his mummy loved him,” you wailed with a huge fake sob.

Nat chuckled as she sipped from her water bottle. You did this every time she beat you; abandoned your position on the team, gave away your possessions, forced someone to take care of Ferdinand after you were gone.  Granted, hand-to-hand wasn’t really your strong suit. You were a sniper…of sorts.  A deadshot.  A bulls-eye artist.  Basically, you always hit your target….except when it came to love…

Speaking of love… “Aw, come on. You can’t die on me, Punk.” Bucky’s throaty chuckle caught you off guard and you scrambled to your feet, blowing out your cheeks at the nickname. Punk  Uuuunnnngggghhh.  He was leaning against the door to the training room, shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to his torso.  The ripples and panes of muscle became more defined with each breath.  God, he was so rude!  Who did he think he was?!  Just walking around looking like that?! Ugh.  He was all sweaty and slightly out of breath, but his eyes were bright and he looked like he was fucking glowing.  Who looks like that after they run twenty miles in an hour?!

You, on the other hand, looked like a boiled potato. After an hour of having your ass introduced to the floor on loop, your face was bright red, you had underboob sweat stains, the deodorant you had obsessively applied earlier had failed about forty-five minutes ago, and sweat was running down from your hair in long rivulets.   Why were you so gross?  Nat wasn’t sweating like a pig and she had been working out just as hard as you. You sighed inwardly.  Everything you did just seemed to fall somewhere on the ‘disgusting spectrum’.  Usually leaning towards ‘ugh’ or ‘blegh’ but right now you were done right ‘oh dear lord’.

“Hey, B,” you mumbled quickly, trying to fix your rats nest of a ponytail and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Hey.  Glad ta see you’re still alive,” he chuckled at you, giving you a flash of those pearly whites.  “Just stopped in ta let ya know that the food’ll be here in thirty.  Best get cleaned up.”  And with that he waved and walked out of the gym.

“Let’s save water and shower together,” you whined at his retreating form.

Nat barked in laughter.  “Oh my god, you should’ve said that!”

“Aaaahhhh-bsolutely not.”

“Oh come on!  That would be the perfect way to flirt with him.”

“No, that would be the perfect way to watch me spontaneously combust.”

“How about we try flirting tonight?” the red head suggested.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” you teased.

“Yeah, how do you think I got ‘im?” She quirked an eyebrow up at you.

Touché.

“Get off the fucking counter!”  Tony hollered.  He was trying to unpack the Chinese food bags but a certain fat, black cat was sticking his nose in containers of Chow Mein, knocking packages of duck sauce onto the floor, and yowling obnoxiously at the billionaire. “One of these days, cat, I’m gonna—”

“Tony, if you lay one finger on Ferdinand I will carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”  You strolled into the kitchen wearing your typical post-shower attire: wet hair in a messy bun, flannel pajama bottoms, and a New York Rangers hockey t-shirt.  Ferdinand purred loudly at you and you cradled him like a baby in your arms. “Did that mean old man yell at my precious little baby?” you cooed.  “My poor lil pumpkin.”

“Just keep him away from me,” Tony muttered, glaring at the cat in your arms.  “And off the counters!”

You gave him a dramatic salute.  Bucky came up from behind you and pulled Ferd from your arms. “Hey, buddy.”  The cat began to purr like a speed boat as the super soldier held him.  “You causin’ trouble?”  He walked over to the dining room table and cradled Ferd in his lap as he began to spoon boneless ribs onto a plate.

“B, don’t give him any food!” you scolded, knowing full well what he was about to do.  “He’s too fat.”

“Y/N! You’re gonna give him low self-esteem!” Bucky cried dramatically and you couldn’t hide your smile.  “Poor Ferdinand,” Bucky cooed, slipping the cat a piece of pork.  “Your mama is always fat-shaming you. Doesn’t she know that looks don’t matter?!  Tsk Tsk. Well, I love ya for who ya are, buddy.”  He gave the cat a loud smooch and sat him on the floor to go beg for scraps from the other team members.

“Buck,” you whined, seeing Ferd lick the pork from his lips.

Bucky merely sent you a toothy grin.  “Come on, Punk.  He was hungry!  Come eat.”

With an inward cringe at the nickname you grabbed a bowl for you soup and looked around the table.  Nat and Clint had appropriated some portion of the other’s chair as they ate.  Wanda was pouring drinks and passing them down.  Steve and Tony were calling out orders and handing out steaming cartons of noodles to their owners.  Sam managed to steal the open seat next to Bucky, much to your dismay, and you were forced to sit between Thor and Vision, far away from your favourite super soldier, at the opposite end of the table.

Conversation buzzed around you, but you didn’t really feel up to participating.  This happened sometimes, lately more often than not.  Something just seemed to happen to you when it came to….eating.   Now, you loved food.  It was kind of obvious actually.  Half the time you planned your next meal while eating the current one. But lately, and you weren’t sure exactly when it started, every time you ate something, even something you really liked, like pizza or ice cream or spaghetti, you felt….guilty?….bad?…ashamed?

With every bite you felt like you were somehow doing something wrong, something forbidden.  An obsessive need to count calories occasionally seized your mind. Half the time it felt like you spent more time reading nutrition labels than actual books!  And those feelings were only amplified when you were forced into eating around the others.  You felt like some sort of zoo creature around them.  Oh look, meal time at the hippo pond!

You popped half a dumpling into your mouth. Ferdinand rubbed up against your leg under the table, hoping that food would fall from the sky.  Absently, you began to push your noodles around the plate, losing your appetite as the others munched away happily on crab rangoons and sesame chicken.  Angry, self-loathing thoughts bubbled to the surface in your mind.  Were the others looking at you while you ate?  Judging you for the food you put in your mouth?  Look at Y/N, shovelling it in like garbage truck.  Were they as disgusted be you as you were?  Did they think of you as fat slob with no self-control? Because that’s how you felt.  Because even when you tried to be good and not eat so much, eventually hunger pangs tore through you and you just had to eat.  And you didn’t always want salad or veggies.  Sometimes you wanted cookies or peanut butter or candy.  It was just so hard to—

“Y/N, are you going to eat that?”  Thor interrupted your inner turmoil and pointed to the untouched egg roll on your plate.  You shook your head and he grabbed it with a muffled ‘thanks!’ and shoved the entire roll in mouth.

You looked up and locked eyes with Sam.  He mouthed, ‘you good?’ and you nodded putting a false smile on your face, not wanting to explain your loss of appetite.

“Who’s ready for desert?”  Steve asked a few minutes later and was met with smatterings of approval.  You helped Vision clear the plates, hoping to slip out of the kitchen and ditch desert without being noticed.  Your self-control could not resist apple pie.  It was your kryptonite.

“That’s the last of them,” Vision said turning off the sink and grabbing a set of desert plates and a cake knife.  He gave you a small smile and walked back to the dining room as you dried the last of the bowls.  You were just about ready to make a break for it when you turned around just as Bucky strolled into the kitchen.  His dark hair was still slightly wet from his shower earlier causing his short curls to glisten in the light. God, he’s so fucking perfect.  You licked your lips and quickly turned to put the last dish on the rack.

“Told ya there’d be pie,” he whispered as he grabbed the vanilla ice cream from the freezer, letting the cold air sweep over you. You shivered.  Please let him think it’s just from the cold.  “Come on, Punk.”  Merhhh.  “I know you can’t resist,” he teased with a twinkle in his eye that you couldn’t quite decipher.  Great, he’s gonna lead the pig to the slop trough.

You sighed, torn as to what to do.  If you rejected the pie he’d ask you who you were and what had you done with Y/N.  If you ate the pie he’d see you eat the pie.  He’d see you shovelling in spoonfuls of warm, mushy apple and crispy crust mixed in with sweet vanilla ice cream all the while sporting a blissed-out look on your face.

But either way, he knows you’re fat.  The evidence was right in front of him, staring him in the face.  Might as well eat the pie, hate yourself, and avoid any awkward questions.  Bucky didn’t need to hear you whine about how grotesque you were.  He didn’t want to hear about that.  Nobody wanted to hear about it.  It was your own stupid, gluttonous fault that you were this way.  Nobody felt sorry for you.  With a sniffled sob, you trudged back towards the others.

When you at back down at the table, Bucky gave you an enormous grin and handed you a plate with the biggest slice of pie and three scoops of ice cream, more than any of the others, and it took all you’re strength not to burst into tears.    The biggest slob had gotten the biggest slice.

TAG LIST:  strike-through means the tag doesn’t seem to work.  If your tag doesn’t work for some reason, send me a message and I’ll take a look.

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[newt-grundy]

some rabble

Holy shit. I am being swarmed with thoughts and emotion right now, so I’m just gonna write it all out. First off, fuck, that flew by. It seems so unreal that I’m already leaving, and in a huge way I feel shame and regret for wasting my time. I can’t help but think I should have played with Holland more, or I should have drew with him, or read him books, or just did a lot more than just hang around, play video games and such. I mean, that’s not all we did, but still. That little bugger gave me a big long hug and it’ll be the last “big hug” I get from him for a long time coming. I have to remind myself how unconditionally he loves me and he probably doesn’t even feel a fraction of disappointment in me. Regardless I still feel like a shitty older brother and I want to cry, I’m literally holding back tears right now. That little bastard is the one person who makes me cry I fucking swear.

It seems so out of nowhere, like I basically just got back home and now fuck, I’m leaving. I wish I would have gotten more time with my friends and said so much more to them and made them feel loved. It’s so hard not to let Babylon just, instantly changed me and especially putting me back into my default Babylon mode. I can’t believe how much fucking time I wasted watching TV, playing video games, just scrolling that goddamn facebook wall. I fucking screens, I abhor them, it’s pretty much the main reason I left last time and a big reason right now. It’s a shame I don’t have better self control where I can just use my computer for only productive means. Instead it’s like, hours of youtube videos, hours of facebook, hours of pornography, then some writing. The entire time I was gone last I didn’t watch any porn at all and it was fucking awesome. It was great, I never had that shame or struggle or anything. I barely even masturbated and since I didn’t have porn or really the chance to even masturbate (or will) then I would just fucking, get laid, like how humans are supposed to do it.

Technologies goal, with social networking and such is to just replace all human needs of other humans with a more artificial stand in. We use porn for girls, facebook for friends. We watch groups of people hanging out (it’s most tv shows, just people hangin out) instead of spending time with others. A lot of young men now just forsake dating entirely. When you have so much porn whenever you want, you simpy nip sexual desire in the bud all the fucking time. God I hate it, I have to leave. I have to go so I wont even have the tempations of bablyon and in a way I’m just switching those temptations for others. Sure I’ll meet people, be more sociable, write and read, and barely look at screens but last time I left I ended up smoking meth so, it’s simply a matter of pick your poison.

But I feel this is right. I have no desire to get a job, or really any need if I’m home and my parents take care of everything. I have no future in Iowa and that’s pretty much darn guaranteed at this point with the mountain of slander that now surrounds my name. If I’m homeless and struggling for the basics than I’m forced to work hard and I’ll get the satisfaction that working hard entails. Ah fuck it I don’t want to explain all of it. I know what’s best and it’s not even about what’s “best”. I’m done with always trying to be healthy and stable. I’ve never been fucking stable, never really had much of a stable life, why try and force it? Why trim off the lows and tops and sort of dull myself out. Numb myself with tech, and get caught up in some job I don’t believe in and all that fucking bullshit , fuck it! I snap everytime and that surely isn’t healthy. Better to die with some tweaker smashing my head in, or the bull shootin me, or falling off a train than to die by my own hand, alone in an apartment for one with only friends around that I saw once a week if that. Don’t misinterpret I love my friends here it’s just, people don’t really need people when are those needs are met by money, and the strangers time that money buys. I crave intimacy, and it’s so goddamn hard to ever be intimate when there’s always a fucking screen on, of some stupid comical whatever. I feel it’s really hindered my relationship with my family and friends and I grew so close to people on the streets because we never had that. You spend days with someone, struggling to survive, hours just waiting around entertaining each other, you grow fucking close, and you grow quick.

I’m still just self-rationalizing. What’s really bothering me is missing my brothers and my friends and feeling like I don’t make anyone happy. That I don’t give enough love or enrich anyones life and If I don’t do that then surely it’s not a noble or fulfilling life to live. I’m always so fucking caught up in myself. The artist type with a million projects and always just strategizing and thinking how to make a song better, or a magic deck better, how to write this story, paint this ect. I turn real people into fictional subjects of them all, all their feelings and being simply relative to mine. Savannah once said I saw others as mere extensions of myself and I fear she’s right. I’m afraid I’m a legitimate narcissist that doesn’t really care or empathize with others. I habitually deny those who request my intimacy and then go give my love to some stranger who just dumps it out. I really haven’t learned. Still Chasing girls, getting high, writing songs. Same shit I’ve been doing for five years. Life is still horrifying and intense and wonderful and just fucking insane all the time.

I mean, I’ve gotten better I think. Despite the whole abbie/jesse fiasco I think most people that actually know me think I’m an alright guy. They would probably say I’m nice and kind and helpful, I’m so fucking anxious about it and I do take action to try and be all those things. Give my time to others. I’m always thinking when I’m talking to someone “now don’t just respond with how that relates to you, ask a question, get to know them, let them talk about themselves, it’s not about you” ya know? Like someone says

“hey I have a pet rock”

And I want to say “oh yeah I had a pet rock my rocks name was yaddie yadda and I got it on whever and shit”

But instead I say, “oh that’s cool, what’s your pet rocks name? where did you get him?”

Ya know? But the problem with this is I want people to be fucking interested in me. I want to show everyone all my songs and artworks and have them see me as I see me. Because if I’m being honest I feel like I’m a fucking special person. Here comes the fucking ego, sorry, but like, how could you be good at something but be unaware of it? How can you make good art without understanding what good art is, and thus making the intention of making “good” art? Because I feel like I’m one of the best goddamn artist, on any account, that I’ve even met, and I strive to be so. I put in effort fucking all the time, every day, for hours, I obsess over the stories I write, rack my head over painting, plan, illustrate, strategize.

I mean, its like magic the gathering. The best magic players are who gives the game the most thought, who thinks the most about how they make their deck, essentially. I’m pretty good at magic, because I spend embarrassing amounts of time thinking about it. I’ll be up at five am just pacing and chain smoking and thinking about what cards to switch with what. I watch several series on magic, I watch judges explain rules, I research cards all the fucking time. And because I put all this work in, I’m good at magic.

And so, I do the same fucking thing with any art that I’m working on. I research heavily on what music to download then lay there on my back in the dark, giving the entire album my full attention in one setting, carefully studying what the music is, how they made it, all the parts and how they interact, ect. I put in this effort with any of my artworks and I put in mass amounts of time into constructing my own songs, and I have no shortage of inspiration because I have fucking insane feelings all the time, like I fall in love with everyone and hate people and hate systems, and love stupid little things and am always tying ot figure out how everything and everyone works, and I understand style and how to obscure and contort ideas into a voice and blah blah blah. Point is, I’m good, ok, arts subjective yeah whatever, with anything, the more effort you put in, the better the result, but like, the thing is,

No one gives a fuck. Because everyone is doing the same exact thing, the world is over saturated with twenty three year olds makes sad songs about their past girlfriend, and writing poems about being confused and painting girls and making magic decks, and essentially just complaining all the time, and they all want everyone else to see and acknowledge but everyones so focused on themselves that they can’t really take it in. When I listen to any music it always just comes back to me, how it makes me feel, what aspects of the music can I glean to then use in my own. A big reason I even enjoy art is because it motivates me to do my own. I’ve stopped listening to albums half way through multiple times just so I can go practice because I’m like ‘fuck this shit is good, I need to do better!”

I’m certainly rambling, god this is a ramble, one I wont even bear through to read but this is one of my last chances to use this computer to type out some shit so that’s what I’m doing. It’s five am, my brothers are getting up, reading up to leave with my grandparents on vacation, I’m glad I get to say goodbye again. I can hear Holland getting up he’s so cute in the morning. He rubs his eyes in that cliché way where he uses his entire fist like what?

It’s gonna be ok. I’m going to have fun, and feel great feelings and the road will be scary and terrible, I’ll be uncomfortable and in pain, maybe contract some more diseases, get some more holes in my teeth, fuck up my spine. But I’ll also witness miracles, meet incredible people and show love to them. I’ll help feed them when they are really hungry, I’ll take drugs with them, play games, talk laugh, open up. I’ll play my songs, and they will play theirs, we’ll settle drama and rabble, some of us will fuck, some of us will fight. I’ll never know what’s going to happen and I’ll become spiritual, put my trust in the road, manifest. I’ll have to psyche myself up to do illegal dangerous things. I’ll show off infront of girls I find attractive, compete with fellow men, I’ll be humbled when I’m defeated and uplifted by others who praise me. I’ll be alone and bored, hiking along the road, or waiting for a ride, or just staring up into space as I’m laying in my bag, too cold and anxious to sleep and my mind will just be turning over and over again and maybe something will come of it. But I always sleep, days are too exhausting to not, and I’ll wake up and do it all again, with no real end or goal other than what I’m wanting that day, I’ll change my mind constantly too, always excited and always disappointed, happy and sad and at least I’ll be fucking alive and feel like I’m living alive. If I die young I die happy and if I’m 80 and still homeless with nothing I won’t regret because my life was full adventure and excitement. I had brothers I fought along side with and I fell in love with women and confided in them and held them and tried to make them feel safe. I was nice to dogs and talked to them, didn’t hurt bugs for the fuck of it, not even spiders. I tried to learn and listen and grow. I stuck to my guns, didn’t give up guitar, didin’t stop trying to force my artistic perspective everywhere. I was an entertainer, I was open, made people laugh, usually a good person to go to if you were bothered and wanted to talk about it. It’s everything I’ve already done, just gonna keep doing it over and over, try and reach as many people, be a part of as much as the world I can. Then die, and soon after be forgotten, but hey that’s how it works. Could be a lot worse, and anything in retrospect really wasn’t all that bad.

[preciousrichard-blog]

Second Thoughts, Second Chances (Sniper/Spy)

Chapter 3:  Sweet Somethings

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9419246/chapters/21420707

Rating: Teen+

Chapter Summary: A night out for coffee and a whole heap of miscommunication makes for a very eventful evening. Where in one way we say too little, in other ways we say too much.

Sniper had been staring dreamily at the foyer across the restaurant. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he keenly eyed the most beautiful endowment he’d ever seen. He fantasized for a moment, chin resting on his knuckles, of being able to hold such a massive pair. He was about to head to the front desk and demand where they found a beauty like that when Spy’s fidgeting drew him back to reality. In the corner of his eye, the masked man was elegantly wiping something off the tabletop.

“I think she was trying too hard.” Spy returned flatly, dabbing away drops of coffee with an impassive look on his face.

“What?” Sniper blinked at him, eyebrows furrowing as he attempted to decipher whatever Spy had just said.

Sniper returned his attention to the foyer wall, where the mounted head of the moose he had been admiring hung. It had the biggest pair of antlers Sniper had ever seen and frankly it made him jealous enough that he really considered asking the staff what caliber they’d used to take it down. He was about ready to ask the BLU spy whether he was aware that only male moose grew antlers, when the distant image of the waitress flashed in his mind. His face sank, and his eyes went wide as he searched Spy’s face for some hint -any hint- of a joke. Horrified, Sniper found him fully serious, and raised his palms up in front of himself as if to surrender.

“No- No that’s not what I meant!” Sniper stammered, growing embarrassed at yet another poor choice of wording on his part.

Spy gave him a quizzical look, and Sniper inhaled sharply with parted lips as he tried to think of how to explain the misunderstanding. His eyes darted to the mounted head as if to beg for its help, but the glassy eyed stare offered nothing.

“I did not take her as your type.” Spy continued, looking down to wipe the side of his cup where coffee had inevitably dripped seconds earlier.

“No- you’ve got it all wrong ya bastard!” Sniper insisted, growing tense. Not even close, he sighed internally.

With his head still dipped, Spy looked up in intrigue. He felt a lapping wave of hope, unsure where the other was going with all of his talk just yet. But anywhere else was better, he thought. He gripped discretely at the linen napkin in his hand, as if to will on some good fortune in his moment of disappointment. He was genuinely perplexed however, and it showed on him. Sniper could recognize it clear as day, and held back the need to drag his palm firmly down his own face in aggravation. Hurriedly, the sniper began to make a small display of brief motions across the room.

“Over there!” He hissed, accompanying the near spastic pointing, “The sodding trophy you git! The moose!” He looked more distressed with every flick of his eyes, “That rack!”

Spy lifted his head slowly as words translated to him, and as much as he didn’t want to, he forcibly tore his gaze away from a very rosy and fidgeting Sniper. He cast it instead on the warm browns and oranges of the restaurant. He searched beyond the tables full of people chattering away to the distant sound of piano and percussion to find this moose of which he spoke. There, where the ceiling rose high before the entryway, was the dusty head of a bull moose with antlers perhaps as wide as Spy was tall. It was placed so far up that the masked man had easily missed it up until now. For a while, Spy looked at it and didn’t move.

Sniper on the other hand found he could not stop moving. He rested against the back of his chair, and rubbed his hand across his forehead to ease the frustrated lines that gathered there. He dragged his fingers down his temple with a groan and let his arm drop to his lap. He lectured himself all the while over wording; it was getting to be a problem how often he said foolish things without thinking, at least around Spy. Words always got him in trouble it seemed, which was grueling when Spy drew so many out of him with ease. This time they’d made him look like a pervert who ogled waitresses, and he frowned at the thought of it. Before he could think any more, Spy had turned back to him with the same smile he got when he made a particularly humorous kill. Sniper squinted at the devilish mirth in his eyes and that smug little grin of his grew wider. Sniper puffed up and grabbed the edge of the table, pulling himself forward.

“Don’t.” Sniper warned with a dark rumble, but the white of Spy’s teeth was already peeking out past his lips. “Don’t you bloody dare.” He pointed an accusing finger at the man.

But, just as every time Sniper commanded Spy to stop laughing, it drove him to laugh harder. Now he was pressing a knuckle to his teeth and shaking with silent chuckles lost on Sniper’s ears. But he could see the way his chest and shoulders trembled under the blue of his suit and it made him pinch the bridge of his nose and exhale every ounce of air within himself. He rolled his eyes and flopped back, gripping the table because he really wanted to reach across and shake the guy by the collar. He thought better of it knowing he’d never hear the end of it for wrinkling his suit, and if he spilt anything on the fabric there was a chance Spy would kill him right there in the restaurant. He opted instead to give him a cutting glare, lip curling just ever so slightly.

“Ha-ha.” He growled sarcastically, “You finished yet?”

“I apologize-“ Spy smirked, voice wavering with restraint, “It was just… The timing-“ He nearly snorted finishing his sentence.

Sniper threw his hands up in defeat at last. “Can’t a bloke admire a game trophy in peace?” He griped, settling an arm on the tabletop and forcefully grabbing his coffee with the other. He sneered and took a long drink, emptying it before setting it on the saucer with a solid clack.

“I should have known,” Spy sighed, the smugness of his face hiding his utter relief just under the surface, “I admit, it is a ‘hell of a rack’ as you put it.”

“Ah piss off.” Sniper jeered, shifting in his seat with fervor.

Spy chuckled deeply just once more before the waitress appeared again with a platter. Spy felt oddly sorry for her as she greeted the pair, thinking she was certainly more attractive than a moose. But at the same time he reveled in his little victory against her, and felt very proud of himself somehow, even though he had no right to be. She set Spy’s appetizer down before him; a round dish of Italian bread slices all arranged in a circle, topped with vibrant reds. After a few curt pleasantries she offered to refill the men’s drinks and left for the kitchen. Spy cast a teasing glance at sniper, who furrowed his eyebrows and inclined his head in a nonverbal warning. It made Spy smile again, a little more from genuine happiness this time as he allowed himself to feel the full effect of emotional relief. This was still his night.

“What is all that?” Sniper asked him, leaning on his arms to examine the plate Spy was adjusting.

“Bruschetta.” Spy responded coolly, pinching the tips of his black gloves one finger at a time.

Sniper stopped breathing when he realized he was removing them. He’d never seen the man’s bare anything before, and here he was taking them off like it was nothing at all. His heart sped up, and he watched each movement like a hawk as a thin pale wrist appeared, then the back of his hand, and knuckles stark white against the blue and black of his wardrobe. Finally a set of smooth fingers slipped from the leathery fabric. The square nails and pronounced knuckles worked nimbly to pull away the other glove.

“Yes they do come off.” He heard Spy say, straightening up as he realized he’d been caught staring.

He met Sniper’s eyes with a critical look on his face. Something playful danced behind his sharp stare and it drove a pleasant thrill down the sniper’s back, tensing him. All of a sudden Sniper couldn’t believe seeing the other’s bare hands intrigued him at all, and he felt silly for getting worked up in the first place. Spy may have caught him staring but somehow he didn’t mind this time; he felt vaguely happy. The Frenchman placed his gloves out of the way and smirked. He held a hand up and displayed it mockingly, even wiggling his fingers as if to prove they weren't fake.

“Believe it or not Bushman, my ensemble is not attached to me.” He added, “Shocking I’m sure.”

Sniper frowned at the sarcasm, cocking a brow, “Too right.” He bit back, “I’m more surprised to know you actually eat.”

Spy snorted at him with a soft smile, “You will find that I adore fine cuisine.”

Spy looked over his plate fondly, admiring the vibrant tomato and the scent of basil, olive oil and cheese. Unaware that he was still smiling, he deftly lifted a slice of the bread to his lips, taking in every detail of the morsel he could, before excitedly eyeing sniper and waving it in toast.

“Bon appétit.” He smirked, and took a languid bite.

Watching the other thoughtfully eat, the sniper thought to himself that the spy looked so human in that instant that he could have mistaken him for anyone else- if it weren’t for the mask. He remembered the conversation earlier in the day about how Spy considered them fundamentally alike. There under the dull glow of an old lamp, somewhere in a vague northern town at a restaurant table, Sniper realized they were just two men who wanted to have a good meal and a nice evening. The thought of gunpowder and bullet casings couldn’t have felt further away. When Spy finally finished off his piece, Sniper admired the bob of his Adam’s apple beneath his mask, and the way he rubbed his fingers together over his plate to shoo away any crumbs. I’m in over my head, he assessed, when he found himself watching Spy’s lips press against the white of his cup to drink. He felt his own breathing when coffee clung to them for just a second before a deep pink tongue slowly licked it all away- and it was sinful, he thought, to be so enthralled by someone he should be considering strictly a friend.

“Any good?” Sniper asked quietly, holding his own cup and tapping it absentmindedly.

Spy gave it a thought, mulling over what he’d just tasted, “I’ve had far better, but it’s surprisingly well made.” He finally answered.

Sniper smirked, “That’s about what I’d expected you to say.” And Spy looked visibly offended at being read.

“Of course. Well, then should I expect you to wear your jacket the entire evening?” Spy retorted, lifting another piece with a smooth flick of his wrist.

Sniper started, looking down to find that he had in fact been wearing his winter jacket indoors the whole time. He groaned, and Spy took a satisfied bite of his bread, closing his eyes to soak in his little victory. When he opened them again, Sniper was fumbling with the zipper.

“Ah bloody hell,” The Aussie sighed, “nah it’s just been real uh…” He threw spy a quick glance, “Eventful. Forgot I was wearin’ it.” He awkwardly began to remove it.

Spy smiled politely at him, watching the zipper slip down, further and further until his hands slid away under the table. Spy let his eyes linger there before trailing back up to the exposed reddish brown sweater he wore over a white collared shirt. He eyed the sniper generously, sizing him up. And if he had to admit it, he was impressed with how well the bushman cleaned up when he wanted to. Somehow the man before him almost didn’t seem like the RED sniper he’d been pestering for months. Spy had expected him to wear his usual red button-down, but instead his shirt was shockingly white and pressed, his face was shaven, and his hair was neatly pushed back. Spy almost burned with the desire to add in a chestnut tie and pull him by it. When the Aussie finally slipped his shoulders free and hung his coat on the chair, Spy freely inspected the curve of his broad back under the tight mahogany wool and licked his lips, recalling all the times he’d drawn upon it with strokes of his blade. When Sniper settled and tugged at his sweater, Spy returned to sipping coffee as if he’d never been looking. All things considered, Spy couldn’t help but feel special, even though he had no actual proof that he was.

“Tell me Sniper, do you ever tire of eating various reptiles and animals you pick off the ground?” Spy asked thoughtfully.

Sniper cocked an eyebrow, “That was only once.” But Spy gave him a pointed look and he sighed, “Okay, it was only a couple times. I eat the usual stuff too y’know.”

“The usual being your run of the mill Mann Co. rations.” Spy said flatly.

“Not all of us have time to go gallivantin’ around town.” Sniper mumbled back, “Food is food. I don’t know what all the fuss is about.”

“I suppose that is very Australian of you.” Spy replied, sounding painfully bored by his response.

“N’ it’s real French of you to make food complicated.” Sniper remarked gruffly, taking a hint of offense even though he couldn’t dispute the accusation.

"Do you have any concept of the skill required to prepare a complicated dish? The precision? I would think you of all people would understand." He zeroed in on Sniper's eyes, "You make a point of 'perfect bloody aim,' well what of 'perfect bloody taste?'"

"Taste don't serve much purpose, do it?" Sniper scoffed, "At least puttin' bullets in people is useful."

"Even the simplest man enjoys an exquisite meal. You aren't fooling anyone Sniper." Spy returned darkly, eyes narrowing.

The sniper crossed his arms defiantly. He didn't have anything to retort with, and couldn't find any way to prove the other wrong. He sat back, pouting and grumbling to himself about the nonsense and how he just can't win. He watched Spy finish another bruschetta, and then slide the plate toward him as an offering.

"Here mon amie, hunger frays the nerves. I insist you try one while we wait." Spy implored as peacefully as he could.

Sniper's eyebrows arched, and he looked down at the few remaining pieces. He shook away the nervous thought that Spy's bare hand was just inches from his arm, and hesitated first as if to ask whether Spy was sure. He then warily plucked a slice of bread, balancing it between his fingers, and looked at it suspiciously.

"One thing a chef and a sniper have in common," Spy smiled, "is the enormous pride they take in their craft."

Sniper had lost track of how many times he'd surrendered like this by now. He even wished his hand would stop moving as it drew the appetizer to his lips, but it acted on its own. He resented the way Spy always seemed to know exactly what to say; whether it was to push his buttons or calm his stormy moods. He considered the Spy too sly, too picky... Too charming and thoughtful. He bit into the morsel and cursed. It was delicious.

"Well, 'any good?'" Spy mocked.

Sniper paused a long while, but at last sighed heavily, "It's bloody grand." He saw Spy open his mouth but heaved relief when the waitress interrupted to refill their cups.

Spy cut off the conversation as the woman stepped before the table, and bit his tongue wishing he could have gotten in a well timed "I told you so." He then decided he had poked the grumbling kangaroo enough as she poured the coffee. He was smiling fondly at the other's face. Only the RED sniper could make frustrating defeat look so sweet. But the spy was more interested in how quickly he'd obliged; he wondered if the man was far more open than he put on. Deep inside Spy grew excited as his mind concocted an array of things he'd like Sniper to try. It would take a great deal of pushing, and perhaps many months at a time, but the prospect colored the gray mundanity of the war. He suddenly found himself glowing brighter than ever, because it felt like purpose, and it was bringing him life.

As the evening went on, patrons came and left, but Sniper and Spy remained at their table. Spy had eaten his grilled salmon surprisingly quickly, and nursed his coffee as Sniper finished off his steak. Spy had pestered the other until he admitted he preferred the meal to anything he'd eaten in a while. But in retaliation Sniper had pestered him about the flavors of exotic animals, getting him to admit there was value to tracking in the wilderness. They continued their back and forth about this and that for quite some time. Sniper felt like he learned more about French culture that evening than he'd learned in his whole life. He didn't quite understand half of it, but living with coworkers from overseas taught him how to accept it. He also learned Spy liked to talk more than he looked like he did. The Frenchman led most of their topics, but Sniper didn't mind at all. He found he liked to listen to his melodic accent. Spy found Sniper's day to day life surprisingly normal for a man who spent the better part of his years in the wild. He found he could say far more to him without judgment than he'd expected, and he wondered if all the years he spent away from society had anything to do with it.

"I do hope you won't be using your coffee against me tomorrow." Spy joked when he finished off his cup.

"No promises mate." Sniper returned, tipping his cup in toast at him before taking another swig.

Spy shuddered. "Well what do you say I pay for the meal and you forget to bring your jars along?"

"No deal." Sniper chuckled, "You can bribe the staff mate but ya can't bribe me."

"Fantastic." Spy groaned sarcastically. "At least in this weather I can expect a concussion instead."

Sniper laughed particularly loudly at that, enjoying the exhaustion Spy expressed at him. But then he thought about the snow and the battlefield he'd face the next day, and it drained him of his joy. He tried to focus harder on the coffee in his hand.

"Lucky for you the weather makes me a worse shot." He admitted, looking down begrudgingly at his innocent cup.

"You did just as well today as you did last week." Spy corrected, eyeing him with suspicion.

"What?" Sniper set his cup down, "I missed more shots today than I have all month."

"Well my team would argue you landed just as many shots as any other day." Spy assured.

Sniper looked at him funny. He wondered what Spy was playing at for a moment before he considered that he might have been genuinely comforting him. He couldn't fathom why, so he continued to question the conversation, ready to be jabbed with some snarky quip.

Spy tilted his head when the sniper didn't respond to him. "Even I can't deny you are a skilled marksman, despite my reservations about your... Other methods." He said coolly, voice dark and sincere.

Sniper felt a chill run down his arms; he held back a growing smile. "Are you complimenting me then?"

Spy sighed and shook his head disappointedly, "As reluctant as I am to inform you, you are better at your job than the sniper at BLU."

Again Sniper laughed, nearly bellowing as Spy winced. "Don't let your mate know you said that!" He grinned.

"But I have." Spy responded innocently.

When the sniper couldn't find the hint of humor on Spy's face, he quickly stopped laughing. "You're not serious?" He asked, floored.

"Do I not look serious?" Spy asked, "I have no problem telling my coworkers when they aren't pulling their weight... Well," He glanced up for a second in thought, "most of them."

Sniper couldn't believe his ears. He really didn't want to with the way it made his heart sputter. He played idly with his fingers, but stopped fighting the cocky smile it bewitched him with. The BLU spy admired his work, and praised that which he was most proud of- to Sniper's own enemies no less. It wasn't like he knew any snipers better than himself to praise him -he was the best after all- but something about praise from the enemy was so intensely honest and sweet. There across the table, the BLU spy seemed so genuine, thoughtful and down to Earth that for the first time in his life Sniper wished he could have been a woman just to catch his eye. He felt fear at himself when it made him realize he wasn't just attracted to his good looks. He was overcome with the sensation of sinking, and it scared him more than any rocket or gun barrel to the face ever had. Spy would never. Spy was his friend.

"I'd clock RED's spy right in the nose if he said that to me." He tried to laugh, pushing all the thoughts out of his brain. Just enjoy his company.

"As you can imagine, me and our sniper are not on the best of terms." Spy answered dryly, stirring sugar into his drink.

"Fancy that, I'm the replacement Aussie then am I?" He teased, feeling prouder than he should have that Spy preferred him.

"He is nothing like you." Spy smiled warmly, and Sniper laughed.

"Aren't all Australians the same to you?" He smiled back.

"You are proving me wrong all the time." Spy shook his head, frantically dodging every romantic phrase that danced on his tongue in the moment.

Sniper felt the words like a river of lava in his blood. "I thought you hated bein' wrong." He smirked.

"Intensely." Spy said darkly, only to smile as he continued, "But occasionally I am pleasantly mistaken."

"But I'm still a 'filthy bushman' aren't I?" Sniper chuckled.

"Bushman yes. Savage non. I've found you clean up quite well. So bravo, Monsieur." Spy dipped his head in acknowledgment, quick to push away the word handsome and keep his composure as a feeling overwhelmed him.

"I wasn't raised in the wild," Sniper smirked, giving him a look, "But don't expect me to wear a suit."

"Suit or non, when you actually put in the effort," Spy looked him up and down, "you turn out quite handsome." The word slipped from his lips before he could catch it, and his heart dropped. "For a Bushman." He added, mind immediately buzzing.

"Blimey," Sniper laughed, he felt heavy. "Handsome?" He was blushing, and cursing himself. "You wouldn't be comin' on t'me would ya mate?" He joked, hoping to tear away any seriousness and put a stake in his own feelings once and for all.

For once, in the blinding wake of a very accurate accusation and overwhelming situation, Spy spoke without thinking. "Oh, you don't want that answer." Was all he said with a chuckle, and before he even noticed it left him, it was gone.

His heart stopped. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. In an instant he watched his evening crumble, crash, and burn before his eyes. He looked as if his mind had simply shut off, and his heart couldn't decide what emotion to feel. Sniper had been smiling, and when he let the words sink in it faded. He looked blankly at Spy, and found the man was not giving him any sort of correction, or clarification.

"What?" Was all Spy heard Sniper ask from somewhere far away.

[munchkinxcop-blog]

Kristin

The only person that gets me… This choice of words remained with Kristin long after the women grabbed a bite to eat that day and well into the next week.  It wasn’t that she was unaccustomed to such praise, it was simply that in a world where she got other people, she was left to wonder who got her.  Yes, Erin’s visit had offered her the momentary escape from the prison of her mind but playing friendly therapist wasn’t exactly at the top of the recently divorced woman’s list of things to do.  She’d been more than happy to offer Erin the truth as she saw it, but as they parted ways she wondered who would get her… after all, the man who had once known her best was off only God knew where doing someone who even God probably didn’t know.

And she was still held captive to her memories.

One might assume that the bad memories would be the worst at the end of a marriage.  During the wait between filing and finalized, even she had fallen into this deceiving trap, convincing herself that such would be true.  However, Kristin was rapidly realizing that the good memories were far more damaging – emotionally and mentally – than all of the horrible, even terrifying, memories.  The bad simply reinforced her reasons of getting out, but the good made her wish she’d clung on a bit longer.  Such emotional turmoil and raging waves of doubt and guilt and misery swept her back and forth for days.  Of one thing in Erin’s life she was jealous.  Yes, one thing she would give anything to feel again… the feeling of falling in love.  

She didn’t have to be told that Erin was ‘falling’ for her partner to have known it, nor did she need twitter updated or facebook status’ to solidify that her dear friend’s status had changed.  While she felt caught in the ruins of desolation, void of any emotion beyond self-pity and gloom, she somehow found it in herself to truly be happy for her high school companion.  Erin deserved love, the act of falling, of being loved, and the thrills of anticipation that came with it.  And she had every confidence the woman would supersede other women in taking the downside of love in stride.  Love could be a splendid thing, as a song once sang, but it could also lead down a path that Kristin was unsure how to find her own way back.  However, she was certain Erin wouldn’t meet her fate… at least, she could dig deep enough to hope for her friend.

“I’m sorry ma’am but your ticket, please?” Interrupted the attendant, standing beside the machine with a bright red laser that would determine her plane ticket to be accurate or flawed.

Kristin snapped out of her thoughts, shaking her head a moment.  However could she have allowed herself to dive so far into her thoughts that she auto-piloted herself to the ticket counter was beyond her, but somehow the past few minutes had passed without her full attention.  She was boarding a flight for South Carolina, yet again, and this time actually anticipating the four-day-weekend getaway with the Barnes.  While she and her long-not-so-lost half-brother were still measuring each other up, her birth father and his wife were pleasant company and life at the Barnes’ country home was so relaxed and peaceful that it was just the medicine she needed… or hoped it was, anyway.

Handing her ticket over, she waited to be scanned in then headed for the plane where her first class seat awaited her.  Only when she’d stowed her carry on and situated herself comfortably in her seat did she take out her cell phone and get to the multiple texts and emails that awaited her.  Many were from her brothers, two of whom were curious as to why she was travelling to South Carolina yet again, while the other just wanted to know where she ‘kept the good stuff’.  A few emails were from clients or her legal assistant who covered for her quite nicely these past few weeks, months, maybe even longer.  Among these were old texts between Kristin and Erin, just checking in and making light conversation about the conversation they’d had previously.  Never, in any of them, had Kristin let it slip just how miserable she was feeling or how very jealous the feelings were toward her friend’s new relationship.  Again, she reminded herself that Erin deserved this, which led her to messaging her friend, though it would have nothing to do with their talk or their swap in relationship status’.

::Heading to South Carolina for a few days. Could you do me a solid? Check on AJ once or twice while I’m gone? He’s at my house with Butler and Scarlett – poor them, I know – and he’s already asking for the keys to the cabinet. Ya know, make sure he’s actually eating and not just drinking. Please and thank you!::

She hit send, hoping it wasn’t too much to ask.  No, it wasn’t abusing her relationship with a cop – for if it was law enforcement she’d needed, she could have had her pick of half the police department for a favor.  And it wasn’t immediate family that was needed, either, because lord only knew how much AJ loved being ‘babysat’ by the family.  However, Erin was just the right person to make a friendly drop in – that AJ would actually open the door for.  She was almost family, familiar, but just outside enough for AJ to feel unthreatened.  Suddenly, Kristin felt like she was asking the woman to check up on a teenager and not a man in his thirties.  Shooting another text quickly, she added,

::Then check your vacation days and let me know when we can hit the beach for a weekend! K? My treat!::

Erin

On the three day suspension, Erin learned a lot about everything Voight would have never approved of.  When he told her to take three days to figure out what it meant to be a good partner, he in no way meant for her to figure out what it meant to sexually please her partner.  Nor did he mean for her to figure out how deep her relationship with her partner was.  He also did not mean for her to figure out how to infuriate her partner.  Erin spent her days ‘working’ on the partnership, and when the three days was complete, she was certain that she absolutely knew how to best be a good partner to Detective CJ Luciano.

Returning to work had been nerve-racking for Erin, but in her true trooper-style, she marched in and looked the bull in the face, quite literally.  Reporting to Voight that she was ready to return and that she was certain that she would be the partner Luciano deserved.  Comical, she found it to be.  Voight welcomed her back and thus her life went back into the normalcy that would keep her busy all hours of the day and at times into the night.  

Her nights were almost always spent in the same manner, an after shift drink or two with the boys before heading to her apartment to either meet CJ or gather her things to go to his place.  In the chaos of it all, she had found something comforting, which felt like what she knew ‘home’ felt like to most others, a feeling she was not familiar with, but was learning to enjoy.  

Shooting the occasional text in Kristin’s direction or responding to one from her, Erin knew she had to make time to get over to see her, to check on how she was actually hanging in, but the hours in a day simply were not allotting for it.  It wasn’t until receiving the latest texts from Kristin that she really stopped to think for a moment.  Could she actually disappear for a couple of days with Kristin?  Could she use some time off?  Could she put the badge down and just be Erin instead of Detective Lindsay or CJ’s girlfriend?

The thought was beyond tempting.  As she stared at her phone, biting at her lower lip as she so often did in thought, she wondered just how to pull this off.  She knew she had the time off to take, but she never took her time off and everyone knew it.  Hell, they might have a heart attack if she actually submitted a request for it.  The thought was so appealing, she couldn’t say no.  Kristin drove a hard bargain.  Damn her.

Yeah, I’ll check in on them.  And how about if I put in a request for the end of the month?  I could take a couple of days, do a Friday through Sunday thing?  What’s your schedule like Oct 31-Nov 2?

Sending the text from her desk, she looked over at CJ, knowing she’d have to speak with him about it.  She had a feeling he wouldn’t mind, but she also had enough respect for him to check with him before committing to anything, especially given the negative male attention that had been surrounding her lately.  Talking to him, however, would have to wait until much later that night, as they were still keeping their relationship secretive for neither of them wanting the drama that it would bring to the workplace, nor did she want to be forced to step down from Intelligence, and she had a feeling that was where it would lead.

-2014

[stardust2003]

Madferit: The Novel - Chapter 22

           "Oi! Wake up, Our Kid. Phone's for you."

"Who is it?" Liam asked groggily blinking up at Paul.

Paul shrugged and passed him the phone.

"Hello?" He said into the receiver. "How the fuck'd ya get this number?!"

I sat up a little and watched Liam as he argued with whoever was on the other end.

"C'mon, Addie!" Paul said as he tapped my shoulder. "Tea's on downstairs. Let me fix ya a brew."

I got out of bed and followed him out the door, leaving Liam behind to cuss the poor soul on the phone.

Paul fixed me a cup of tea and sat down at the table across from me to finish his. He smiled as he put his cup to his lips and for a split second I swore he and Noel swapped places.

But I knew that wasn't possible. Noel was in London and had been ever since the band returned from touring. He was too cool for Burnage.

And clearly too cool for me.

They had a few more days before they left for Japan.

"You're seriously not gonna go?" Paul said.

"No I'm seriously not." I replied. "I've no reason to-"

"I think ya've got a very big reason if I'm honest. Two reasons if you really-"

"Stop." I said firmly.

He was about to speak again when Liam came trudging into the dining room.

"I'm goin' down London." He informed us as he headed straight for the door adjusting his duffle bag strap on his shoulder.

"Aren't ya gonna take your bird with you?" Paul asked.

"No. She likes it here."

"But if you're stayin' with Noel-"

"I'm not fuckin' stayin' with him!" Liam snapped.

Paul furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at him. "Then who the fuck ya stayin' with?" He asked.

Liam shrugged in reply.

"What the-"

"Let it go, Paul." I said calmly. I looked at Liam. "Tell Patsy I said hello."

"Fuck off!" He barked. "I'm not fuckin' goin' to see 'er!"

"Who ya gonna go see then? Your drug dealer? 'Cuz everybody knows you don't gotta leave Burnage for that."

He rolled his eyes.

"But then again you did say Patsy's got all the good gear."

"Fuck off, Tix! Seriously!" He exclaimed before heading out the door.

"Are you really just gonna sit there and let him treat you like that?" Paul asked pointing at where Liam had just disappeared.

"What difference does it make?" I said. "If he's gonna cheat, he's gonna cheat. Who am I to stop him?"

"His girlfriend. And you don't deserve to be-"

"Just drop it, Paul! Please! Just stop!" I got up from the table and left the house.

The sky was gray and looked like rain was coming. It was summer but the weather was total shit. Back home, I guess the weather was stellar. The thought made me pine a little for going back.

But I didn't.

I went far enough away from the house just in time before the tears started to flow.

'Stop crying!' I ordered myself. 'He's not yours! Stop fucking crying!'

The band left for Japan and I stayed in England. Peggy insisted I stay with her. I already had been when Liam was still home. He refused to stay at his flat.

"You're probably sick of it." He reasoned.

'Probably not as much as you.' I thought.

Peggy became a surrogate mother to me while Paul was like another older brother. It was nice to have them both in my life. They gave me a sense of normalcy even with all the hype swirling around Oasis. You would've never guessed they were related to the band.

I also got integrated into their family which consisted of a couple of Peggy's sisters, their husbands, and their children. One big, happy, Irish family. And I loved every minute I got to spend with them.

Noel was right in a way about Manchester being pretty boring. Don't get me wrong, I loved being there but Burnage was relatively quiet. Paul told me Noel had no desire to come back even for visits. It made me feel bad for their mother.

I had a hard time believing that was true though. He loved their soccer team – the other one I guess. Not the one everybody knows about. Why would he do that if he wasn't proud of where he was from?

I don't know why I bothered asking those questions. Actually, I didn't even ask them. I just thought about them in my head to pass the time until the boys got back. It allowed my mind to escape my constant thoughts of Liam and wondering what the fuck he was up to.

But it wasn't easy. The checkout lines at the grocery store were always stocked with tabloids featuring him and Noel on the cover. From backstage arguments to shit being thrown from hotel room windows, the news agencies updated us commoners about all their latest antics. It was very rare to see Bonehead and Guigsy's name get mentioned though.

'And to think, they started the band.' I mused.

Alan rarely got mentioned either but I wasn't arsed to care. He was a good drummer and Liam's new best friend but I don't know...I fell in love with the original band not the added professionals.

Peggy had scrapbooks going of every article the boys got a mention in. It was fun to flip through them and see it all. I don't think she missed a single article.

One evening, Peggy, Paul, and I went to some relatives' house for dinner. I kept thinking how Noel always said they weren't the type of family to do this sort of thing yet there we were. People laughed and joked around. They were all really loud and really funny. Paul and Peggy had such big smiles on their faces and so did I.

The night ended and it was time for bed. I was given free range of Liam and Noel's old room. I'd grown accustomed to sleeping in Liam's bed just because that's how things had been when he got back from the European leg of the tour.

The room was really quiet. I turned the lamp on and gazed around. Liam left some clothes laying on the floor near his dresser before he took off for London. I couldn't tell if they were dirty or clean. He had another pile of boxers and t-shirts wadded up on the floor by the foot of the bed. Empty cigarette packs and what looked like pieces of rolling paper were scattered on the top of the dresser. There were a couple City posters on the wall but surprisingly nothing to do with John Lennon or the Beatles anywhere in sight.

Noel's side of the room was a completely different story. His bed was still made and it had been since Christmas. But I suppose there hadn't been a reason for it to get unmade.

"We should shag in it." Liam suggested as we lay in his one night. "Get my spunk all over his fuckin' sheets. Show 'im who the real Chief is."

My response to that was a big hell no. I wasn't into his sick little games, charming as some of them might've been.

It was easy to tell Noel had been moved out for quite some time. Apparently since before Oasis even began. Still, he must've had some reason to leave his bed, dresser, and posters behind.

Fuck knows Supernova Heights was big enough to store them.

I crawled into Liam's bed and stared across the room at Noel's. I tried to picture him lying there sighing and rolling over in his sleep.

I fell asleep sometime later but woke up to the sound of the phone ringing down the hall.

"Fuck's sake!" Paul groaned across the hallway.

I heard him get up and saunter out of his room towards the phone.

"Hello?" He said. "Whoa! Calm down, mate!" He paused for a second then continued. "She's asleep. No. I'm not gonna fuckin' mither her for-. Alright alright! Just fuckin' calm down! She ain't gonna be able to understand ya when you're talkin' so fuckin' fast."

I gasped when I heard his footsteps coming towards the bedroom. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep as the door creaked open.

"Addie?" He whispered.

"Hmm?" I replied stretching a little as I opened my eyes.

"The phone's for you." He held it out to me. "It's Noel. He's freakin' out."

I took the phone from him and wondered what the heck was going on as I brought it up to my ear. "Hello?" I said into it.

"Ya need to come over here! Now!" Noel replied quickly. "I fuckin' miss ya too much and I can't fuckin'-"

"You guys'll be home in like two days. Surely you can make it without me 'til then."

"No I can't. No I fuckin' can't! It's fuckin' mental over here. I can't fuckin' sleep! I need ya here to make it better. Please! I'm beggin' ya and y'know I don't beg for nothin'!"

"Noel-"

"He's fuckin' cheatin' on ya!" He interrupted me. "He's got all these little Japanese birds in and outta his room. He thinks he's John Lennon or summat."

"Well hasn't he always thought that?!" I asked trying to fight back the tears.

"Yeah but-"

I pushed the button on the phone to hang up on him. I couldn't listen to the bull shit regardless of whose mouth it came out of. I handed the phone back to Paul and the tears began.

"Addie?" He said curiously. "What's the-"

"Just leave me alone." I sobbed. "Please!"

He sighed and then turned around and left the room.

I felt like I was in a haze during those final hours before the boys returned. I spent the majority of them with Kelly trying to distract myself from it all.

"So you and Tony are like the real deal, I take it?" I said as we rummaged through a clothing rack at some store in city centre.

"Yeah I guess." She replied. "But we're not rushing anything. Just taking it slow and enjoying the ride."

Tony said he felt really good now that he was done with the band. I don't think he was fronting. He quit drugs and felt a lot healthier.

But he still had something up his sleeve.

"They're tryin' to say I'm not allowed the credit for 'Some Might Say' 'cuz I was sacked." He told me when I stopped by theirs for tea one afternoon. "Well, Noel's really the one that's sayin' it. I played the drums when they recorded it and I'll be damned if I don't get the royalities."

"So what's your plan?" I asked.

"I've been in touch with a solicitor. The one who represented Pete Best! BigUn said he'd do his bit to help out as well. He reckons we should go down London and bust down Noel's front gate."

I chuckled louder than I originally planned at the thought of it. BigUn was fucking crazy and it definitely wasn't wise to rub him the wrong way.

'God help him!' I thought as I imagined Noel at the sight of that lot trying to break into his house.

It rained the night before the band came back. I stayed at Peggy's again so I'd be ready to greet Liam when he walked through the front door. I was still mad and shocked at Noel's statements about him but I knew I could put up a good front if I tried hard enough.

I lay in Liam's bed counting down the final few hours. The rain had stopped and things were quiet again. I stared at Noel's empty bed and just thought about everything.

Why would he be so cruel to tell me Liam cheated over the phone? It's not that I was that shocked by it. I knew there were groupies everywhere they went and the boys loved the attention, Liam especially. He was the frontman and he was absolutely stunning. Even before the band I heard girls always threw themselves at him.

But why would Noel try to hurt me? Maybe he wasn't trying though. Maybe it was a mix of the drugs and his shyness that he just fucked up. I only believed about half of what he said most of the time. Like Liam, he didn't always come off as super trustworthy especially when he was angry.

My mind switched to the thought of the groupies from all over the world. I remember sitting on the bus watching the boys make their way back to it as the girls flooded their path. Liam had a big grin on his face as he gave hugs and kisses on cheeks while he signed autographs and such. Noel looked slightly less happy, never smiling when people shoved cameras in his face. He signed his name on whatever they offered and hurried on down the line to the bus as fast as he could.

Then I thought about the time I caught Liam with Patsy in the hotel room. They were just sitting there on the floor. If it was anybody else you'd have thought they were just playing a game but maybe they were. Liam liked games and he played Patsy like a cat does with a string. It was getting harder and harder to tell who was the cat and who was the string though.

When I was finally pissed off enough, I got out of Liam's bed and crawled into Noel's. His pillows still had a faint smell of his shampoo. Paul said he never quit using the stuff he had when he was a roadie. I guess it was an unwritten rule that everyone involved with the Inspiral Carpets had to grow their hair out like the band. At least, that's what Paul figured anyway.

I adjusted my head on the pillows and pulled the blankets up over my shoulders. His bed warmed up quickly and it didn't take long for me to fall asleep.

"What the fuck ya doin' in my bed?" That familiar voice said.

I looked up and blinked at his silhouette, the street light outside allowing a bit of his face to be visible. "This ain't your bed." I replied. "You moved out, remember? Can't be arsed to come back."

"That's not true! I had to come back so I could rescue you."

I rolled my eyes. "Where's Liam?"

"Fuck knows." He shrugged. "Down London, I guess. Said he'd meet us there."

"I'm not going to London." I said firmly.

"Yes y'are! Even if I have to fuckin' drag ya there."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are!" He argued. "You can even come now if you fuckin' scoot over." He chuckled.

"Piss off you dick!" I exclaimed. "This is my room-"

"I think you'll find this is my room."

"Not anymore! You left it along with all your shit behind. Your mother says this is my room now and everyone knows what she says goes."

"Is that so?" He asked.

"Yes." I replied. I pointed. "You can go sleep in Liam's bed or you can fuck off as far as I'm concerned."

He shook his head. "I'm not sleepin' in his fuckin' bed. I'm sleepin' with you. Scoot over!"

"No!"

"Addie!"

"Make me!" I ordered.

"Alright." He nodded. He took his jacket off and then his t-shirt. Then came his jeans and socks and then finally all he had left were his boxers. He walked over to the bed and leaned down. "Move over." He said as he pushed on my shoulder.

I stared at him focusing on the glassiness of his surprisingly clear eyes.

He jumped on top of me and planted his lips right on mine. He put his weight down on me as he braced himself on his arms around either side of my head.

I cupped my hands around the back of his head as I pulled him close. I wrapped my legs around his hips and attempted to push his boxers off with my feet.

He giggled against my lips. "Your 'ands'd probably work better." He said.

I reached down and grabbed the waistband of his boxers. I slid them off his hips and down his legs and let him kick them the rest of the way off.

"Now for yours." He said.

He moved his hands and put them on my underwear. He tugged on them to signal me to lift my hips.

I did so and he gingerly pulled them down and off.

He repositioned himself and then slid inside me. "Jesus!" He giggled as I tightened around him. "Ease up a little. I like ya bein' tight but fuck me!"

I relaxed myself as I held onto the back of his head.

"Good girl."

Our hips swung together and all the bad thoughts just disappeared.

"I've missed you." He said into my ear. "I've missed you so fuckin' much! Don't ever fuckin' do that to me again. Don't ever fuckin' run-" He stopped himself with a moan. "Don't ever fuckin' run away from me again!"

"Okay." I replied breathlessly.

There was a knock on the door a few hours later when the morning sun was finally out. Noel and I both woke up to the sound of it although I think I was more awake.

The door opened to reveal Paul standing there...with eyes as big as dinner plates.

"Oh shit-"

"Don't! Say! A word!" Noel warned him.

"Alright." He replied holding his hands up. "The kettle's on if you lot are interested."

"Course we fuckin' are! We'll be down in a minute, right?"

Paul nodded and then headed back down the hall.

"Where's me boxers?" Noel asked as he looked around the bed. "What'd you fuckin' do with 'em?"

"What makes you think I did something with them?" I asked.

"'Cuz ya nicked 'em from me last night! I know ya did."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"Where'd ya put 'em?" He continued.

I just shrugged in reply.

"Ya better not be wearin' 'em!"

"And what are you gonna do if I am?" I asked.

He smirked at me then moved and got on top of me. "First, I'll take 'em back." He said as he grabbed a hold of the waistband of his boxers and slid them off. "Then, I'll tuck into me breakfast." He leaned over to the side of my head. "And fuck knows you taste a hell of a lot better than any tea." He whispered into my ear.

I giggled as he moved down. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed as he tongued my hip bones. I spread my legs as he began sucking on my inner thigh.

He moved down and down and down until he was close to my intimate area.

"Stop." I said breathlessly.

"Not 'til I finish ya." He replied between kisses.

"The tea's gonna get cold."

"Fuck the tea! I'm more concerned about you gettin' cold. I can warm ya up better than any fuckin' brew can."

"Well that may be so." I said as I sat up and moved out of his tongue's reach. "But I want tea."

He looked at me curiously. "More than ya want me?" He asked innocently.

I pursed my lips trying to think of what to say. "Come on. Let's get dressed."

"We'll finish what we started later, yeah?" Noel said as we headed for the stairs.

"Yeah." I agreed.

Goodness knows part of me was game for it.

[munchkinxcop-blog]

Kristin

The only person that gets me… This choice of words remained with Kristin long after the women grabbed a bite to eat that day and well into the next week.  It wasn’t that she was unaccustomed to such praise, it was simply that in a world where she got other people, she was left to wonder who got her.  Yes, Erin’s visit had offered her the momentary escape from the prison of her mind but playing friendly therapist wasn’t exactly at the top of the recently divorced woman’s list of things to do.  She’d been more than happy to offer Erin the truth as she saw it, but as they parted ways she wondered who would get her… after all, the man who had once known her best was off only God knew where doing someone who even God probably didn’t know.

And she was still held captive to her memories.

One might assume that the bad memories would be the worst at the end of a marriage.  During the wait between filing and finalized, even she had fallen into this deceiving trap, convincing herself that such would be true.  However, Kristin was rapidly realizing that the good memories were far more damaging – emotionally and mentally – than all of the horrible, even terrifying, memories.  The bad simply reinforced her reasons of getting out, but the good made her wish she’d clung on a bit longer.  Such emotional turmoil and raging waves of doubt and guilt and misery swept her back and forth for days.  Of one thing in Erin’s life she was jealous.  Yes, one thing she would give anything to feel again… the feeling of falling in love.  

She didn’t have to be told that Erin was ‘falling’ for her partner to have known it, nor did she need twitter updated or facebook status’ to solidify that her dear friend’s status had changed.  While she felt caught in the ruins of desolation, void of any emotion beyond self-pity and gloom, she somehow found it in herself to truly be happy for her high school companion.  Erin deserved love, the act of falling, of being loved, and the thrills of anticipation that came with it.  And she had every confidence the woman would supersede other women in taking the downside of love in stride.  Love could be a splendid thing, as a song once sang, but it could also lead down a path that Kristin was unsure how to find her own way back.  However, she was certain Erin wouldn’t meet her fate… at least, she could dig deep enough to hope for her friend.

“I’m sorry ma’am but your ticket, please?” Interrupted the attendant, standing beside the machine with a bright red laser that would determine her plane ticket to be accurate or flawed.

Kristin snapped out of her thoughts, shaking her head a moment.  However could she have allowed herself to dive so far into her thoughts that she auto-piloted herself to the ticket counter was beyond her, but somehow the past few minutes had passed without her full attention.  She was boarding a flight for South Carolina, yet again, and this time actually anticipating the four-day-weekend getaway with the Barnes.  While she and her long-not-so-lost half-brother were still measuring each other up, her birth father and his wife were pleasant company and life at the Barnes’ country home was so relaxed and peaceful that it was just the medicine she needed… or hoped it was, anyway.

Handing her ticket over, she waited to be scanned in then headed for the plane where her first class seat awaited her.  Only when she’d stowed her carry on and situated herself comfortably in her seat did she take out her cell phone and get to the multiple texts and emails that awaited her.  Many were from her brothers, two of whom were curious as to why she was travelling to South Carolina yet again, while the other just wanted to know where she ‘kept the good stuff’.  A few emails were from clients or her legal assistant who covered for her quite nicely these past few weeks, months, maybe even longer.  Among these were old texts between Kristin and Erin, just checking in and making light conversation about the conversation they’d had previously.  Never, in any of them, had Kristin let it slip just how miserable she was feeling or how very jealous the feelings were toward her friend’s new relationship.  Again, she reminded herself that Erin deserved this, which led her to messaging her friend, though it would have nothing to do with their talk or their swap in relationship status’.

::Heading to South Carolina for a few days. Could you do me a solid? Check on AJ once or twice while I’m gone? He’s at my house with Butler and Scarlett – poor them, I know – and he’s already asking for the keys to the cabinet. Ya know, make sure he’s actually eating and not just drinking. Please and thank you!::

She hit send, hoping it wasn’t too much to ask.  No, it wasn’t abusing her relationship with a cop – for if it was law enforcement she’d needed, she could have had her pick of half the police department for a favor.  And it wasn’t immediate family that was needed, either, because lord only knew how much AJ loved being ‘babysat’ by the family.  However, Erin was just the right person to make a friendly drop in – that AJ would actually open the door for.  She was almost family, familiar, but just outside enough for AJ to feel unthreatened.  Suddenly, Kristin felt like she was asking the woman to check up on a teenager and not a man in his thirties.  Shooting another text quickly, she added,

::Then check your vacation days and let me know when we can hit the beach for a weekend! K? My treat!::

Erin

On the three day suspension, Erin learned a lot about everything Voight would have never approved of.  When he told her to take three days to figure out what it meant to be a good partner, he in no way meant for her to figure out what it meant to sexually please her partner.  Nor did he mean for her to figure out how deep her relationship with her partner was.  He also did not mean for her to figure out how to infuriate her partner.  Erin spent her days ‘working’ on the partnership, and when the three days was complete, she was certain that she absolutely knew how to best be a good partner to Detective CJ Luciano.

Returning to work had been nerve-racking for Erin, but in her true trooper-style, she marched in and looked the bull in the face, quite literally.  Reporting to Voight that she was ready to return and that she was certain that she would be the partner Luciano deserved.  Comical, she found it to be.  Voight welcomed her back and thus her life went back into the normalcy that would keep her busy all hours of the day and at times into the night.  

Her nights were almost always spent in the same manner, an after shift drink or two with the boys before heading to her apartment to either meet CJ or gather her things to go to his place.  In the chaos of it all, she had found something comforting, which felt like what she knew ‘home’ felt like to most others, a feeling she was not familiar with, but was learning to enjoy.  

Shooting the occasional text in Kristin’s direction or responding to one from her, Erin knew she had to make time to get over to see her, to check on how she was actually hanging in, but the hours in a day simply were not allotting for it.  It wasn’t until receiving the latest texts from Kristin that she really stopped to think for a moment.  Could she actually disappear for a couple of days with Kristin?  Could she use some time off?  Could she put the badge down and just be Erin instead of Detective Lindsay or CJ’s girlfriend?

The thought was beyond tempting.  As she stared at her phone, biting at her lower lip as she so often did in thought, she wondered just how to pull this off.  She knew she had the time off to take, but she never took her time off and everyone knew it.  Hell, they might have a heart attack if she actually submitted a request for it.  The thought was so appealing, she couldn’t say no.  Kristin drove a hard bargain.  Damn her.

‘Yeah, I’ll check in on them.  And how about if I put in a request for the end of the month?  I could take a couple of days, do a Friday through Sunday thing?  What’s your schedule like Oct 31-Nov 2?’

Sending the text from her desk, she looked over at CJ, knowing she’d have to speak with him about it.  She had a feeling he wouldn’t mind, but she also had enough respect for him to check with him before committing to anything, especially given the negative male attention that had been surrounding her lately.  Talking to him, however, would have to wait until much later that night, as they were still keeping their relationship secretive for neither of them wanting the drama that it would bring to the workplace, nor did she want to be forced to step down from Intelligence, and she had a feeling that was where it would lead.

Kristin

::Thanks. & I’ll pretend to move dates around to free up some space for that weekend. ;) Put in for those dates and tell BJ he’s not invited. :P ::

She hit send then followed the overhead commands and put her phone on airplane mode for the duration of the flight.  Once she landed in Charleston, she’d forgotten to check her phone and wouldn’t remember until after she’d tossed her bags in the rental car, upgrading from her usual neutral colored Volkswagen Jetta to a red Volvo C70.  After all, she was a Volvo girl through and through, ready to drop the top and blare Kelly Clarkson well into the countryside where her biological father and his family resided.  However, when she glanced at the empty seat beside her, she remembered her phone only long enough to take it off airplane mode before starting the ignition and heading out of town.

Erin

Erin couldn’t help but laugh at the text from Kristin at the mention of not bringing the boyfriend.  She and CJ weren’t exactly sociable yet in their oh-so-secretive relationship, so the idea of both of them putting in for time off in the same unit for the same weekend was rather unfathomable.  That was a dream for another day and certainly their first ‘couples vacation’ would not include that of her gal pal.  For just a moment, Erin had second thoughts about agreeing to talk to CJ about a trip with Kristin.  There were things he had told her in private, things that he exposed to her in their very first week together, things that could hold her back from leaving.  She would work through them and feel him out, knowing that if she got any indication that he was not pleased, she would truly have to stay behind for the sake of his sanity.  Deciding to tease Kristin, she sent her a text back that only led to her cracking up laughing as she pressed send.

‘Yeah, no worries.  I’ll just bring the blow up version he got me for our anniversary.  Hah!  ‘

Kristin

As soon as she had pulled up at the Barnes’ home, she cut the engine and reached across for her phone.  For the thirty-odd minute drive, she’d heard her phone ding and bling but hadn’t bothered to even glance to the side till just now.  Scrolling through the list of emails, texts, and reminders, she ignored some, half-assed a reply to others and even cracked a smile at Erin’s, shaking her head.

::great! You bring the blow up for you, I’ll bring my batteries and toys. ;)::

Erin

Cup of coffee in hand, Erin took a sip as she heard her phone, reaching into her vest to tug it out as the team of detectives stood outside a warehouse after taking down a few more of Chicago’s not-so-finest.  Immediately spitting her coffee out of her mouth, she burst into laughter, getting eyes from Antonio and Al who were narrowly spared her sprinkler-like reflex.  “Sorry!” She laughed as she calmed herself to be able to respond.

‘And now that I’ve spit coffee at Al and Antonio…. You do that!  But please don’t share them.’

Kristin

She’d barely made it through the front door and her phone was vibrating in her hand already.  She had no desire to greet her hosts with rudeness upon her arrival and therefore ignored the buzz against her palm until an appropriate time when she could not only read but reply without concern of putting off Charlotte, who was in quite the sweetly talkative mood.  It was an hour or so later that she walked upstairs to put her bag in the spare room and glanced at Erin’s reply.

“Ew,” she mumbled, her features contorting to reveal just how grossed out she was by the mere thought.

:: Ew! god no, never! Those are mine and they’ve gotten me through the past 10 months, I’ll have you know… You can’t even look upon them! They’re sacred lol::

She hit send but then added a tag along…

:: So this vacation seems to be turning into just doing what I do in my bedroom… but with an ocean view? And someone else doing the same… in a different room. ::

Erin

Leaving the precinct, Erin had just sat down in her car when she heard the notification from her phone again, predicting it was the boyfriend scheduling their later rendezvous, but being met with Kristin’s name on her phone again.  The two hadn’t texted this much in five years, easy.  Shaking her head, she thought to herself it would just be easier if they both brought boys and then they could have sex contests, see who could outlast who, but refrained from mentioning such things.

‘Yes, exactly.  Sex wasn’t a big deal before, but now that there are nightly activities, a girl has needs!’

She truly wasn’t that needy, spending a night or two a week on her own, but she was keeping with the comedic nature of their texts, actually finding the two quite funny.  Everything had changed about Erin lately, and those closest to her had noticed easily.  She was finding herself more relaxed, laid back even, and able to finally let her hair down a bit and enjoying a freedom in something that not many could find fault with, unless the name was Voight.  It was nice to be able to talk about things like this with someone though, as Erin’s relationship was still very much under the radar, although they had been at it now for months.  

Kristin

:: Sex has been a big deal since… Kelly, actually.  Don’t EVER tell Logan that… or Kel for that matter. I’ve been “needy” ever since. Logan was better in bed though. Ok yeah, all this sex talk is not helping.  This vaca weekend is happening, even if I have to take on the entire Chicago police force myself. We need alcohol and more of this.  I miss having someone to actually sex talk with lol NO PILLOW TALKING THOUGH! I draw the line! ::

Hitting send, she tossed her phone on the bed and found a light maxi dress to wear for her shopping date with Charlotte.  She had a strong feeling it was to get her out of the house while Nick handled Chris’s latest issues with her presence, but who was she to turn down shopping?

Erin

Erin looked at the words on her phone, shaking her head.  She did not need to know how either Kelly or Logan were in bed, nor did she have any intention of splurging on the details of the ‘almost’ between herself and Kelly.  She sighed, looking to the ceiling for a moment, then back to her phone where she shot a response in Kristin’s direction, keeping it just as light as possible.

‘Yeah, no more sex talk.  I’ll have to go in the evidence locker if so!  And ohh, now you know I have to cut after two drinks, so you better make them good ones!  We’ll get it worked out.  I’ll talk to CJ tonight or tomorrow night, but we’ll get something set up asap!’

-October 16, 2014