#and both he and Taylor are keeping things close to the vest about it all

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

I just really think Remus Lupin is a ballerina okay AU

Remus Lupin has been doing ballet since he was four. He was exuberant and flashy at first, but after his first teacher, Greyback, molested and abused him, he is quiet and reserved. He prefers to dance by himself and does not speak to anyone inside or outside of the class. He wears pink material and is the best dancer in the school, but everyone is more terrified of him than they are jealous. He has sad eyes and soft hair, but prominent scars (both self-inflicted and from Greyback and accidents) cover his freckled skin. He’s a mystery, but no one wants to solve him.

He lives with his roommate and only friend, Severus Snape, who is a writer. He spins out films and novels and poems by the hundreds, especially inspired by the rain. Remus and Severus will often spend rainy days together in their apartment, with Severus typing furiously and scribbling while Remus dances to Hozier and Lana Del Rey off to the side. Sometimes when Remus will have nightmares, Severus will hold him and sing Russian lullabies until he falls asleep. Severus smokes lazily and wears subdued flower and gothic dresses that show off his jutting hips and collar bones. Having escaped an abusive father and a dead mother, he and Remus bond over their shit parents, with Remus’ father being neglectful and his mother kind but catatonic. Their neighbors think they’re witches, but they’re alright with that.

They both have to work to pay the bills, so while Severus works with preschoolers, Remus works as an assistant for a terrifying professor named Grindelwald at the university. He’s a reformed felon who’s always glowering, and there are rumors he’s Dumbledore’s husband, who is Remus’ mysterious ballet teacher with the twinkling eyes. But no one has the guts to ask him - it’s unknown what he was locked up for, and nobody wants to risk that it was irrational homicide. He mostly ignores Remus though, and doesn’t mind if Remus reads or dances while he works, so Remus doesn’t think he’s too bad.

One day Remus is grading some papers for Grindelwald when Lily Evans walks in, a vision in a white floral lace flowing vest and an across-the-shoulders dark blue dress, a brown belt around her waist and matching ankle boots coming up over creme knee-high knit socks, a black hat on her head. There’s a camera around her neck and her smile is beautiful, surrounded by her freckles, and she and Remus hit it off immediately. She asks if he can spare some time to be her model for the day, and he agrees. They’re hanging out in the park and laughing when Severus walks over, having finished work. The moment he and Lily lay eyes on each other, something happens, something magical, and Remus can see it in both of their smiles as they exchange shy hellos.

Lily starts to hang around them, her and Severus teetering on the edge of something. Remus nudges Severus until he’s brave enough to ask her out, and their first date is in the park where they met, sitting on a bench in the rain and watching the birds. Remus is pretty sure they’re gonna get married one day.

To keep himself busy while his two friends fall in love, Remus escapes to the dance school, dancing alone to Lana Del Rey in an empty room when the door creaks open and he hears, ��Wow.” He turns around and smiles, taking in the sight of James Potter, an old school friend who left for Julliard and he hasn’t seen in years. James laughs, pulling him into a hug, and Remus lets him, tangling his hands in James’ curls and grinning when James presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. James tells him he’s been enjoying a gap year before going to search for a job as a back-up dancer for Taylor Swift, to which Remus giggles and tells him he’ll be great. James beams, and pulls Remus along, saying he has to meet James’ best friend-partner-person. Remus agrees, and changes back into his flowing white dress decorated in bees and black flats, tucking spruce leaves in his hair before taking James’ hand and following him out.

At James’ apartment, he calls out, “Babe! I’m home!” Remus watches as Sirius Black comes skidding down the hall, dazzling in a sparkling black croptop with gold touches and a raggedy sheer maroon skirt that falls just above his spiky combat boots. With white and gold dahlias in his hair, he’s the most beautiful thing Remus has ever seen, and he stares as James pecks Sirius on the mouth, coming away with dark red lipstick stains. When Sirius looks up at Remus, his eyes twinkling, and Remus reaches out a hesitant hand, which Sirius takes. “Hi,” he breathes, and Sirius laughs, loud and bright. He leans in and kisses Remus’ cheek. “Hello, beautiful,” he says sweetly, wrapping an arm around Remus’ waist. “James has told me all about you, love.” Remus blushes, unable to stop smiling even as Sirius pulls away at James’ indignant “Oi!” and doesn’t touch him again. Sirius is the love of his life - he doesn’t know how, but it’s something he just somehow knows, the feeling taking root in his chest and sprouting flowers.

Sirius, as it turns out, is James’ roommate and queerplatonic partner. He ran away from his abusive home and is taking commissions as an artist. Mostly he draws wolves, dogs, rats, deers, doves, snakes, and cats. He affectionately calls Remus Moony, insisting his scars look like something were bit him and his eyes are the fierce amber of a wolf’s. Sirius in turn is called Padfoot, for his doglike energy and loving nature, while James is dubbed Prongs for being a dumbass who continually forgets he’s too big to fit in small spaces and gets lost in the woods almost every weekend. Remus never wants to stop hanging out with them, and learns to spend hours shopping at the vintage shop where Sirius works, the two of them falling for each other fast while James reclaims them as his partners in love as in life. And Remus is so, so happy.

While he’s busy falling in love with Sirius, Lily has moved in with him and Severus. Remus doesn’t mind, and tells Severus he’s thinking of making a home with Sirius and James. Severus hugs him and tells him he’s proud of him, suggesting they hang out that day just the two of them, like old times. Remus agrees, and lets Severus take him to the cafe where Lily works. In the corner of the shop is Regulus Black, a boy drenched in hoodies and coats that Remus and Severus buy free food and drinks for. Regulus thanks them profusely, and they all make small talk until Remus makes a comment that Regulus looks like Remus’ boyfriend Sirius, to which Regulus starts crying, explaining that Sirius is his older brother and he’s been trying to find him for years but gave up looking when their shit parents died and Sirius was nowhere to be found at the funeral. Remus offers to take him home, and Severus kisses Remus on the forehead before heading off to find Lily.

On the way there, they stop at the bakery and accept some free cupcakes from Peter Pettigrew, who owns the bakery with his elusive partner. Regulus, as it turns out, is homeless, and has been trying to make it on his busking money alone. But while he’s fairly lovely at singing, it’s not enough to buy anything concrete. As they eat, Regulus also tells Remus about Amir Levis, a librarian who lets him stay at the library. Remus exclaims that he already knows Amir, who helps Remus remember his pills and doctor’s appointments and always has a spare wheelchair and some tea for him just in case. Regulus admits to having a crush on Amir, but he’s too scared to do anything about it. Remus assures him he and Sirius will help him with it, and just like that they’re on their way.

At home, Remus smiles softly at the sight of Sirius and James entwined on the couch and says, “Look who I found.” At the sight of Regulus, Sirius shoves James to the floor in his haste to stand up, taking Regulus’ face in his hands and searching his eyes for answers. “You got out?” He says, breathless. “Really? You’re alright?” Regulus smiles sheepishly. “Of course I did, Siri,” he whispers. “You think I was gonna let you have all the fun?” Sirius tears up and tugs him close, rocking back and forth as the two of them mumble apologies and love confessions into each other’s necks and shoulders and hair. Remus gravitates towards James, kissing him with a smile before pulling him out of the apartment, saying they should leave the brothers alone.

Remus takes the opportunity to introduce James to Severus and Lily, who are immediately taken with him. They offer to watch him for the afternoon while Remus goes to therapy with Maxwell Needles, a counselor with magenta hair who talks to Remus about life, his accident, his trauma, Greyback, his suicidal tendencies, anxiety, PTSD, and depression. Remus also takes the chance to pick up Sirius and James’ ADHD medication, Peter’s OCD prescription, Lily’s bipolar medication, Severus’ schizophrenia suppressors, and a few books on autism (for Severus), Tourette’s (for Lily), and eating disorders (for James and, Remus suspects somehow, Regulus). Max is delighted to see him with so many friends, and says they’ll bring Peter over sometime for dinner. Though he’s not sure where that would happen since he’s torn between two homes right now, Remus agrees with a smile and bids the skater kid in the checkered jeans goodbye.

Back at school, Remus spends his afternoons in conversation with Mcgonogall, the waltz teacher who takes care of him. She’d adopted him when his parents died and he tries to stick around, asking advice about Sirius and James and whether moving in with them is a good idea. Mcgonogall says she thinks it is, and that she knows Sirius is a kind young man. As it is, he calls her Minnie, and knows her as a friend and a grandmother of sorts, since she helped him when he first ran away to James’ house. Remus is content with continuing the conversation but is interrupted by a phone call telling him Sirius, James, and Regulus have been jailed for a fist fight on the street.

Remus goes to pick them up, where he meets Bellatrix Lestrange, an abusive cousin of Sirius and Regulus who took particular joy out of torturing Sirius, who she almost killed once. She’s also been known to abuse children, especially those of the poor. Also in jail are Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, a couple married only in spirit who keep having miscarriages and take their abusive anger out on each other and strangers. Their landlord, Voldemort, had demanded unconventional payments and they’d been essentially enslaved to him for years, only escaping his cultist grasp by means of murder, which is why they’re here now.

Remus sees James holding Regulus close and whispering to him as he kisses the cuts and bruises on his face in the corner of the cell, but says nothing about it, kissing Sirius hello. The four of them go home together, and as soon as Regulus is asleep Remus tells James and Sirius that he wants to make a home with them someday, just not right now. They laugh and smile and tell him they’re ready when he is and that they love him, and Remus thinks, Things are good.

[thatsamericano]

Pink Sky up on the Roof

Pairing: America/Romano

Rating: Teen, only for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 1409

Summary: When the world meeting has a short break, Romano goes up to the roof to smoke a cigarette and watch the sunset. America joins him, and they have a meaningful conversation, just like they did the first time they sat on a roof together nearly a century ago.

A/N: Written for day 7 “sunrise/sunset” of @aphrarepairweek2021. The fic is loosely based on “It’s Nice to Have a Friend” by Taylor Swift, and the title is taken from the song too.

Romano sat on the roof of the building where the world conference was being held, and he leisurely smoked a cigarette and gazed down at the view of his people bustling along the Piazza del Popolo. The sky had turned into a warm palette of orange and pink, and he could see the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica in the distance.

A sudden noise made him turn to the left. He relaxed when he saw it was just America.

America grinned. “Hey, Vinny. Wasn’t expecting to see you up here.”

Savino turned to look back over the horizon and took a draw of his cigarette. “I needed a smoke break. You?”

He heard America’s footsteps scuffing along the concrete, then heard Alfred sitting down next to him on his left side. “I needed a break in general. I just checked my phone, and I’ve gotten 52 emails since lunch.”

“Fifty-two? That seems excessive.”

“Forty-eight of them were from various government officials.” America sighed. “They give me so much work, but most of the time it’s just paper pushing. They never let me do anything substantial, but then of course, they blame me the second anything goes wrong.”

It was rare to see America like this. Usually he projected so much optimism, especially about himself and his people, that one would never suspect he might feel cynical or disappointed with his own government. Alfred kept any sadness close to the vest, but Romano knew him better than most other nations did. They’d lived together, after all.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that. Next time one of them blames you for shit that isn’t your fault, you ought to tell them to fuck off.”

Alfred laughed. “You know, sometimes I wish I could.” He scooted close enough to bump shoulders with Savino. “But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“Don’t mention it.” Savino forced himself to act casual, as if the fact that Fredo was technically touching him now wasn’t bringing to life feelings that should have died a long time ago. Or that, frankly, should have never existed in the first place.

A couple minutes of silence followed. Alfred seemed to be contemplating something deeply, and Savino was content to let him.

Suddenly, Alfred let out a laugh. “You know, this kind of reminds me of that time we hung out on a roof before. Do you remember? It was about a week after you moved in with me.”

Savino cast his mind back to an evening long ago on a different rooftop much closer to the ground, with only the view of an unfamiliar backyard instead of his home. He’d felt so lonely and lost back then. “I remember.”

“Before you told me what was going on with you, I just figured you hated me. It really surprised me when you shared all of that.”

“I needed someone to talk to,” he admitted quietly. He put out his cigarette and smirked over at Alfred. “And you asked me if I knew how to make Italian food.” Alfredo had said a lot of goofy things over the years, but that had to be by far one of the stupidest.

Alfred’s face now matched the pink sky. “But it worked, didn’t it? You realized you had more choices than you’d thought, and that all that stuff about you not being capable compared to your brother wasn’t true. In just one night, we went from you thinking I was an annoying jackass you had to live with to actually being friends.”

“You’re right. Asking me that did work, ridiculous as the question was.” Something had changed in him that night, and he had begun to see Alfred differently, just as Alfred had said. After that night, Romano slowly became comfortable being in America’s presence in a way he wasn’t with most people. Living together had worked so well that part of him regretted having to move away, and not just because of the sad look on Alfred’s face on the day he said goodbye.

But sitting next to Alfred posed a danger that scared him far more than falling off this building would. The longer he sat with America, talking about the past and the present, the harder it became to suppress the urge to grab America’s hand, which was resting a few precarious centimeters away from him. Yet holding Alfred’s hand would require an explanation Savino wasn’t prepared to give, and Savino was even less prepared for Alfred’s potential reaction to receiving any kind of romantic overture from him.

It was best for him to keep his feelings locked up inside, just as it had been for nearly a century.

Alfred swallowed so heavily that Savino could see his Adam’s apple move, then stared out at the city underneath them. “That night meant a lot to me. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I think part of it was that I just liked being close to you.”

“You must have, since you followed me out onto the roof,” Savino joked. He felt a little uneasy at the abrupt mood change. Why was Alfredo acting so nervous all of a sudden?

“I… I still like being close to you. Only, I think I’d like to be even closer, if that’s okay.”

America’s words were cryptic, and they didn’t make much sense at first. Romano frowned as he puzzled them over, but right as he was about to ask Alfred what the hell he was trying to say, he felt a touch, featherlight, and barely there. He glanced down and saw Alfred’s pinky hesitantly brushing the side of his hand.

A smile broke out on his face as he took Alfred’s hand. “It’s okay, Fredo.”

Alfred laced their fingers together, but he looked worried, as if he wasn’t sure if that was allowed. “It is?”

“Absolutely. If I didn’t want this, I would’ve told you, wouldn’t I?”

Alfred grinned in that so bright it almost hurt to look at way that Savino loved so much. “Oh, that’s good. I’m glad.”

His heart was hammering inside his chest, and just the idea of saying it made Savino feel incredibly vulnerable and embarrassed. But he would’ve regretted not saying it more, so he avoided direct eye contact just to get the words out of his mouth. “If, um, if you wanted to kiss me, that would be okay too.”

America’s smile somehow got even bigger as he started to lean in, and Romano closed his eyes.

Alfred tasted faintly of leftover soft drink, and his glasses were pressed into the corner of Savino’s eye. His kiss was clumsy, like he hadn’t ever done this before, but Savino didn’t mind. Alfred’s free hand was cupping his cheek, and when he pulled away, Savino couldn’t help whining in protest.

Alfred chuckled. “God, Vinny, I could look at you forever.”

Savino opened his eyes to squint at him skeptically. “Really? Even with all that gorgeous scenery right in front of you?” He gestured out to the view that Alfred was ignoring in favor of staring at him with an unbelievably sappy gleam in his eyes.

“Even then.”

America was so damn sincere that Romano just had to kiss him again. But only a couple seconds later, both of their cell phones went off.

Alfred pouted when Romano pulled away to check his phone messages. “It’s Germany. Apparently, the meeting was supposed to resume five minutes ago, and everyone is wondering where the fuck we are.”

“Can’t we just skip? Making out with you is way more important than whatever the rest of today’s presentations are.”

“I wish we could, but that would probably lead to too many questions we don’t want to answer. Not just from the other countries, but from our bosses too.”

“Fine. We’ll go be ‘responsible representatives.’ But you owe me lots of kisses after this meeting is done.”

Romano rolled his eyes as America stood up and helped pull him up too, but he was pleased that Alfred wanted this to continue. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you, tesoro.”

Alfred swung their hands back and forth as they walked to the door that led back into the building. He only let go for a couple seconds to open the door for both of them, then started holding Savino’s hand again with a firmness and certainty that made it clear he wouldn’t let anything or anyone pry them apart.

[jcmorrigan]

...Blakeworther Wedding.

-First of all, the reason it took me so long to settle down to this prompt (besides multitasking and updating my crossover hell fic) is because I was torn for a moment. Did I want to set this during the Revenge Era, when they’d want to lay low? Or during an AU where they can have a more public affair? What I decided was the former. They wanna get married but doing so in a public space is a REALLY bad idea right now in case Myers drops a nuke on the place or the cops show up with sirens blaring.

-So they spruce up the mansion and create a makeshift “church” space (not really a church but it’s set up like one, with the rows of seating) in the basement.

-Only three humans are invited: Taylor, Winston, Draco. But Draco can ONLY come on the condition that he doesn’t invite Vanora, which he doesn’t agree to, so he’s banned.

-Taylor comes wearing a purple tuxedo with shorts, a ruffle shirt, and a bow tie because this outfit won’t leave my head for some reason and I think it suits them

-Winston just wears his lab coat and some comfy clothes like usual. Literally this is happening in the basement so why should he get all spruced

-The rest of the guests are all Dream Eaters and cyborgs. The Dream Eaters, unbidden, get all dolled up in suits and dresses! They wanna look nice! They then dress up the cyborgs, who really don’t care, but hey, it’s nice that everyone’s formal (except Winston)

-There’s a question at first of who’s going to officiate. It then comes out that...Winston is ordained? He refuses to explain how beyond “Long story.” He’s not even really that religious if at all. Anyway, we got an officiator now. Don’t look the gift horse in the mouth.

-The basement hall is decorated TO THE NINES.

-Before the ceremony even begins, the guys prepare their own wedding dinner. Since there are only five humans in attendance, they can handle their own catering. Fish in savory sauce with capers and so many herbs. Appetizers wrapped in bacon. A cake that’s tea-infused in one tier, lemon in the next, salted caramel at the bottom.

-As for the rest of the guests...there’s a “red meat” buffet. Don’t look too closely at it.

-What will happen is that each pair will meet at the altar and wed each other in three rounds. The third is the “best man” for the other two, so they’re all three best men.

-Vincent wears ALL black this day. It’s almost identical to his favorite suit except his undershirt is black as well.

-Victor wears a bright red tux.

-Albert has pink trousers, a pink vest, a white button-down with pink buttons, no jacket. And a bright pink TOP HAT.

-Flowers all over the place, and of all sorts! (I recently read a Blakeworth fic that had flower language in it and I really love the idea that these three are into it - if you wrote it, it was good but I refrained from commenting because it made me SAAAAD)

-First up at the altar: Vincent/Victor.

-The vows are very deep, heartfelt. About spending eternity together, dying for one another. Being soul mates, knowing they belonged together since day one.

-Second: Victor/Albert.

-Vows consist of “I love that I’m marrying one of my best friends.” Talking about laughs they’ve shared and how they want to keep doing so.

-Third: Albert/Vincent.

-Vows start out as “You always push me to be the best I can be and I SWEAR I won’t let you down.” Then transition into “I also vow to never stop giving you a hard time, you ass.” Then it devolves into a very angry “I LOVE YOU MORE” “NO, I LOVE YOU MORE” (Victor is losing it laughing)

-Wedding rings are carved to look like they have eyeballs with red irises inset. Of course.

-Every time one of the couples kisses, the Dream Eaters hurl rice at them. They...they didn’t take it out of the bag first. They tried

-The cyborgs are just wondering when they get to chow down on something that’s dripping blood

-On to the dinner! The food is excellent, of course.

-Since each is the best man for the other two, each gets to do a toast about the other two as a couple!

-Albert: “Vincent and Victor are one of the purest examples of love I’ve ever seen. They give me hope when the rest of the world is horrible and cold...” Aaaaand he’s crying.

-Vincent: “Albert and Victor are two idiots who belong together so they can share their single brain cell.” Everyone, including Albert and Victor, agrees.

-Victor: “Seriously, even when I loved Vincent, I could see he and Albert wanted to lock lips, so I’m glad they finally stopped being tsundere idiots...for the most part.”

-Taylor takes way, way too much cake because why not? It’s a cake for twenty and there are only five humans here

-To the reception! They have a ballroom cleared out and a sound system set up.

-Victor and Vincent’s first dance is to a really schmaltzy slow song.

-Victor and Albert bop to a rave anthem. There’s grinding; shield your eyes

-Vincent and Albert choose a tango piece that allows them both to showboat while still dancing with each other in a very charged way

-Thiiiiis is where the open bar rolls out. It’s gonna see a lot of use. This party devolves further and further into a three-groom bender as the night goes on.

-By the time they’re all three blackout drunk, Taylor hijacks the sound system and floods the room with emo-pop akin to Fall Out Boy

-While Taylor is being a sneaky DJ, they ask Winston for a request and suddenly we’re...we’re dancing to “Magia” by Kalafina. Might as well work it

-I demand “Mamma Mia” by HUGEL be played at least once during this reception

-Witness as fifty assorted cyborgs and Dream Eaters fail to dance like human people and just look like a bunch of dorks

-It all ends in Winston and Taylor having to carry the passed-out grooms up to their shared bed and tuck them in, then Winston and Taylor retreating to guest rooms to stay the night

-I will spare you the details of the “honeymoon” the trio decides on (in no small part because I suck at all things smut anyway) but rest assured they have...fun

[maria-scribbles]

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part five

summary: in the aftermath of hurricane agatha, the pogues are thrown into a mess none of them are ready to deal with. things that don’t exactly top sailor’s ‘fun things to do this summer’ list: surfing in the middle of a hurricane, getting punched in the face by a stupid kook, and stumbling upon a mystery that turns her and her friends into the damn scooby gang. when she said she wanted an exciting summer, she should’ve been more specific. 🙃

word count: 8.1k+ (it just keeps getting longer and longer 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect/gambling addiction, child abandonment, anxiety, self-worth issues, jj being both soft af and hot for his best friend, weed usage, underage drinking, unresolved sexual tension, sailor being thirsty, swearing, guns, fighting, blood, that one trope where two characters only call each other by their nicknames/last names until they don’t because of ~reasons~ that makes me lose my shit every time (like a lot of the obx fandom, i also headcanon that jj stands for jesse james), references to the three stooges (jj=moe, pope=larry, and john b=curly and that’s a fact lmao), to all the boys i've loved before, avengers infinity war, and david attenborough, and a line heavily inspired/influenced by taylor swift's "dress" (a song that happens to be on the playlist for this series)

a/n: we’re finally entering canon territory, y’all (with a few tweaks, of course!) but i’m determined not to make this a rehash/retelling word for word of the show ‘cause that’s just no fun, so expect smaller pieces (vignettes, i guess?) of storytelling as i expand on canon with sailor and the rest of the pogues. think of it like a mixtape of sorts, but with words instead of music if that makes sense lol. this part originally covered episodes one and two but i wrote so much that i had to split it, so we're just covering most of episode one for now (i still can't even believe how much shit actually goes down in the pilot lol). i was veryyyy excited to write the kegger at the boneyard 'cause some ~juicy~ stuff happens there lol. fun fact: the title of this part is a term used by surfers to refer to getting up at the ass crack of dawn to hit the waves. as always, this is unbetaed so any mistakes are mine. enjoy! 

gif credit to @jj-maybnks​ 

~Masterlist~

part five: dawn patrol 

The next morning, Hurricane Agatha hits the island with all the force of a knockout punch; the sound of rain pounding against the roof echoes impossibly loud throughout the Chateau but Sailor’s bewildered shriek is even louder.

“You’re gonna what the what?!”

John B shrugs as the stunned redhead, lounging on the couch, looks away from watching the storm and fixes him with a wide-eyed stare.

“I’m gonna surf the surge.”

“Hell yeah, bro!” JJ yells from his spot as her footrest, punching his fist in the air and she sends him an exasperated look, both at his enthusiastic encouragement of John B’s downright moronic idea and the fact that she already misses the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on her bare ankle.

“Are you two insane?”

“Possibly.” John B states, grinning when JJ follows that up with, “Absolutely.” The blond boy pushes Sailor’s legs off his lap as he stands which earns him another displeased scowl from the redhead. “Come on, Sail. Live a little.”

“Oh, I’ll live alright, but you idiots won’t,” She takes his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet and then down the hall after John B as she continues, “because this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.”

“See, this is why we keep you around,” He replies, laughing when she dodges his attempt to ruffle her hair and dashes forward to beat him to the spare room. “We do something stupid, you and Kie read us the riot act. It’s tradition.”

Sailor grabs her long-sleeved rash vest -if she’s going to sit on the beach to keep an eye on these fools in the middle of a damn hurricane, at least she’ll wear something that offers a little bit of warmth- and heads to the bathroom to change. “Yeah, and then I’m there to patch you up when you inevitably hurt yourselves.”

“Can’t help that you have that healing touch.” His cheeky response floats through the closed door and she catches herself smiling -wide and just a little bit sappy- in the mirror.

After a quick detour to pick up Pope, who’s already drenched from sneaking out his window, the pogues (sans Kiara who never answered John B’s text in the group chat and, knowing her parents, was probably on hurricane lockdown) head to the beach, where the rugged gray surf hammers against the shore with unrelenting brutality. Sailor trails behind the others as they grab their boards and make a break for the water, blatantly ignoring the barriers that read ‘beach closed’ in large, impossible to miss letters. A few hundred feet down the coast, she can barely make out The Sandbar all boarded up for the storm and she thinks of her mother, wondering if she's riding it out inside or at home; either way Carmen's all alone and Sailor's stomach twists with guilt, both for letting her phone battery die so she didn't have to answer her calls and for leaving in the first place, even though it was the right thing to do for her damn sanity.

“These signs are here for a reason, guys!” She calls over the howling wind, squinting through the rain at the rough waves with her hands tapping uneasily against her thighs. Watching John B run into the ocean with reckless abandon (Pope following with a little more caution, thankfully) immediately puts her anxiety on edge so she sits down heavily on the wet sand, wrapping her arms around the knees pulled to her chest and looks up at the blond boy who stayed behind. “Aren’t you gonna join the other stooges?”

JJ shrugs at her question, glancing out toward their friends before dropping his board to the ground and taking a seat behind the trembling girl, his chest to her back. “This one can’t just leave you hanging out here all alone, lookin’ all sad and shit. It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, J.” She smirks and scoots back in the sand, lips curling into a full-fledged smile when he lifts his arms to drape them over her shoulders. As he tucks her securely against his front, the warmth of his body helps ward off the biting chill of the rain, and so does the fact that he knows her so well, that he knows this is exactly what she needs to help calm the panicking butterflies in her stomach.

He leans close, lips brushing against the shell of her ear when he whispers his next words like a secret, low and just for her even when there’s no one around to hear them. “Trust me, Sail, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She suddenly finds those butterflies in her stomach fluttering for a whole different reason.

-

The Chateau sits in complete darkness, the power having been knocked out since they returned from dropping Pope off at his house that afternoon. Sailor thinks it’s about ten at night as she lies on her back on the mattress of the sleeper sofa, listening to the wind rip through the trees outside with Binx curled up at her feet. The spare room was way too hot without a working fan, even after she braided her hair off to the side and changed into a crop top and shorts, so she and JJ had returned to the living room where it was cooler, if only by a little bit.

John B has already retreated to his room for the night; he’d been acting quieter than usual since their little adventure at the beach but between a lantern-lit dinner of semi-stale cereal and passing a joint around, she never got the chance to ask if he was okay before he made his escape. JJ lies beside her with his limbs all askew and from the slow rise and fall of his bare chest she’s 99% sure he’s out like a light until, out of the blue, he mutters into the stagnant air, “Can’t keep your eyes off me, huh?”

She blinks heavily -that weed must’ve hit her harder than she thought because she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring- when he lazily turns his head to stare back, a halcyon grin on his face and in the dark, his pupils are blown so wide she can barely see the blue of his irises. Her hand itches with a longing to sweep that one stubborn strand of hair away from his forehead but instead she blindly slides it to the left until she finds his and holds on tight; his fingers automatically lace with hers even as the space between his eyebrows furrows and the smile falls from his lips.

“Sail?”

“I don’t think my dad’s ever coming back.” The redhead’s mouth blurts before her brain can catch up, heavy words lingering like a storm cloud ready to downpour. The thought had been weighing on her heart for a while now, from when she’d first suspected it two months ago, and it feels bittersweet to finally admit it out loud, even when she hadn’t planned doing it.

Her bedmate is silent for a long time as he looks at her through the shadows and she focuses on the touch of his palm against hers instead of the awful mounting pressure behind her eyes -hadn’t she promised herself she was done crying over her dad?- until he asks quietly, “Why? I mean, good riddance 'cause he's kind of the worst, but why?"

“A feeling,” She murmurs around the sudden lump in her throat, biting the inside of her lip hard enough that she tastes the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. “He...he usually comes back after a month or two but this time it’s been almost five.” A bitter laugh escapes from her chest and she shakes her head. “I guess he finally decided he’s done dealing with my worthless ass.”

JJ’s eyes flash like lightning as he rolls over to face her, the hand not entwined with hers reaching up to cup her cheek. “Sail, shut up. Don’t you dare say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true,” She says sharply, words acerbic and biting and full of a self-hatred that’s been poisoning her heart ever since she was old enough -eight and far, far too young- to discern the way her dad’s love for her was fickle at best, non-existent at worst. “I could’ve been a better daughter- a perfect daughter- and he might still be here and my mom wouldn't hate me. I should’ve tried harder-”

“Jesus Christ, Sailor!” He interrupts, calloused yet gentle thumb wiping away the tears she just now registers sliding down her cheeks and the shock of hearing her full name come from his mouth makes the rest of her vitriolic thoughts fly out the window. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

The image of him blurs through the darkness in shades of black and she closes her eyes, jaw clenched in an attempt to quell the tremble of her lip as he goes on in his low, soft voice, “You should’ve tried harder to do what, huh? What could you have possibly done better?”

She’s quiet for a long time, so long that her tears run dry and all that remains is smeared salt on her skin because she doesn’t have an answer. What could she have done? That terrible thought in her mind rears it’s ugly head again, the one that tells her she’s not good enough, that everything’s her fault because she doesn’t do enough, but when she asks it what more she can do, there’s no reply. There never is.

“Hey, look at me.” She hears the rustling of sheets and feels his fingers slip from hers before they come to rest on her cheek, both hands now cradling her face; she opens her eyes to find him hovering over her and the sheer lack of distance between them makes her heart skip a beat. “You...”

“What about me?” Her voice cracks as she speaks and in a mirror of her from earlier, JJ shakes his head, causing that stubborn strand of hair to once again fall into his eyes.

“I wish you’d see yourself the way I do.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “And how do you see me?”

“Fucking amazing.” He says simply and in the dark, she can barely see the flush slowly starting to creep up his neck. “Smart, brave, and loyal as hell. A beautiful badass who doesn’t take shit from anybody. A girl who listens when someone needs to be heard.”

The redhead stares up at him with wide green eyes as he goes on and on, listing all these wonderful little things that her traitorous mind has a hard time processing, let alone believing; he really thinks about her like this? “You care so damn much,” “You’re kind but not afraid speak out,” “You’re the one I trust the most.”

Her hand slowly releases its tight grip on the sheets and slides up his bare arm, feeling the heat of his skin under her palm as she touches his face, not trusting herself to speak because she’s so afraid of saying something dumb or stupid and ruining everything ('like I always do,' her mind echoes).

“You’re my best friend, Sailor, and yeah, you’re not perfect. You drink and you smoke weed and you don’t get straight As in school but fuck, you’re real and so not worthless.” He says each word with such conviction that its impossible not to believe him, as much as her brain screams at her not to. “And I want you to know that what your parents think of you doesn't matter at all, got it?"

Without warning, she flings her arms around his neck and JJ loses his balance, falling onto her with a soft oof of surprise but Sailor doesn’t even feel the extra weight as she rests her face against his shoulder and finally finds her voice. “Thank you.”

He takes her with him when he rolls onto his side, arms wrapped tight around her waist and nose buried in her messy braid. “Just...trying to do the right thing, I guess. For once.”

She pulls back at his words, then leans forward and slowly presses her lips to his flushed cheek, just missing the corner of his mouth. She lets them linger for a beat longer than necessary before leaning back -not too far, just enough- and looking him in the eye. “Thank you, Jesse.”

He usually hates being called by his first name (she found that out pretty quickly into their friendship, “never call me Jesse” being one of the first things he ever said to her) but he just looks at her with a soft, endearing smile on his face as he leans back onto the bed, once again bringing her with him. “Promise me something, Sail?”

She glances up at him from his shoulder and meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

His fingers tuck an escaped red curl behind her ear. “Just...be you. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.”

She wishes it were that easy, that she could just step inside her mind and flip a switch and she could stop all those thoughts that’ve plagued her for years but it’s not. It’s gonna take time -time and a lot of patience and maybe even a miracle- but damn it, she’s gonna give it her all, not just for herself but for him and the rest of the pogues, too, the best friends she's ever had, so she nods and settles back down at his side. “I’ll try my best, J.”

“I know you will.”

-

"Sail, you're the best swimmer out of all of us. Think you can dive down there and check it out?"

The redhead peers over the edge of the HMS Pogue and into the water, where the murky shape of the sunken Grady-White sits thirty feet down on the bottom of the marsh, then nods at the rest of the pogues, an excited grin on her face.

"No problem," She answers John B, hopping up onto the very tip of the boat's bow with practiced ease before diving headfirst into the water to JJ's yell of "diver down!" It's dirtier than usual because of the hurricane but she doesn't let that stop her as she swims down and down until she reaches the top of the boat and pulls herself the rest of the way onto the deck, carefully scanning the area for...fuck. Honestly, she's got absolutely no clue what she's looking for but she assumes she'll know when she sees it.

'It' turns out to be a motel key, resting all alone on the floor by the steering wheel and she quickly reaches out to snatch it, sliding the silver key ring around her finger securely. When she pushes off toward the surface, she leaves the ghostly Grady-White behind with more questions than answers. 

The rest of her friends are lined up in a row along the boat's railing, all staring at her with near identical expressions of anticipation as she breaks through the water and holds the key aloft with a triumphant smile.

"The Summer Winds Motel called, they want their key back!"

-

A little later that evening, Sailor would really regret finding that damn key but right now, she's having a great time dancing at the Boneyard with Kiara at the traditional post-hurricane kegger, second refill of beer in hand, spiked with Fireball from the flask tucked in her back pocket. To her, dancing's a lot like surfing -steady feet, swiveling hips, snapping shoulders- and she thinks that might be the reason she's so bad at it, anticipating the fluidity of water instead of the solidness of dry land. Or it could be that she just doesn't have rhythm when she's a little buzzed. That works, too.

"Ow, Sail!" Kiara winces as the redhead steps on her foot again, rolling her eyes fondly when she throws her head back with a loud, tipsy giggle.

"My bad, Kie!" She twirls in the sand, hair dancing around her shoulders like fire, and finds herself spinning right into a herd of dancing tourons, all too drunk to care that she's spilling her beer all over their feet. Large, olive-skinned hands grab her waist to spin her again and she laughs, smiling over her shoulder at a cute dark-haired touron as he slides one palm over to settle against the bare skin of her lower back. She pushes one hand on his shoulder with just enough resistance that he doesn't get too close into her personal space as he leans in to speak in a low Southern drawl, brown eyes turned a pretty bronze in the glow of the nearby bonfire.

"This probably isn't the best thing to say to a beautiful girl but you kind of dance like a giraffe."

Sailor bursts out laughing at that. "Hey, I think giraffes are very elegant creatures so I'll take that as a compliment!" 

The boy grins and she smiles, too, letting him take her free hand and pull her into the throng of dancing bodies. He's almost as bad a dancer as she is but he's fun to talk to and together they gleefully show off their worst moves until their feet hurt -she's lost count of how many times she stepped on his toes- and her solo cup is empty. "Come on," She says and this time, she's the one to grab his hand and lead him over to the closest keg, where John B's dishing out beer with an expert flourish.

"'Sup, Sail," He lifts his chin in greeting as he fills her cup, smirking when she immediately pulls out her flask and adds a long pour of Fireball on top. "Who's your friend?"

"JB, this is Adam, he's visiting from Tennessee. Adam, meet John B, one of my best friends and a total moron," She makes quick introductions, smiling into her drink as he scowls and playfully sprays some beer at her feet before filling another cup and holding it out to the other boy with a jab at her expense.

"Be careful around her, man. She's a handful." 

The touron accepts the drink with a shrug and a quick wink in her direction. "Good thing I happen to like 'em a little crazy."

Ugh. More than a little miffed at that, she rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of beer to hide her annoyance when Adam laughs and slings his arm around her shoulders. Calling her a giraffe was actually kind of cute in a very weird, endearing way but he instantly lost whatever points he had with her the second that 'c' word came out of his pretty mouth. She glances around the Boneyard while the boys start talking about surfing (she scoffs to herself, what does a farm kid from Tennessee know about that?), scanning the crowd for the rest of her friends and a chance to ditch him. Kiara's sitting on a big piece of driftwood, chatting up a stunning, deeply tan girl with glossy black hair -she waves when their eyes meet and shoots Sailor a cheeky grin before returning to her conversation- while the ever awkward Pope seems to be stuck in the middle of one of his rambles about autopsies as he stands around the fire, the willowy blonde beside him looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. She'd deliberately lost track of JJ a while ago, after she watched him getting a little too close to a tiny brunette, his hand low on her back as she passed him a drink and ran her fingers up his bare arm, coaxing that killer smile of his onto his face (that girl may have gotten his smile but Sailor got his eyes and they watched her until she pointedly turned away).

Honestly, she's a bit -okay, a lot- peeved. Here she is, thinking that they're the closest they've ever been before (they've always been close, ever since that day in sixth grade, but this is a whole different kind of close), and just when she feels like she may finally be ready to admit some things, some feelings, he's off doing who knows what with another girl; to be fair, she's off with another guy that she'd, until a minute ago, fully planned on kissing, but that's only because of him! Him and some weird need she has to keep him looking at her, to make him jealous -she shakes her head and takes another swig of her whiskey-spiked beer. Nope, nope, not gonna think about that. 

Poor Pope looks like he's really struggling so Sailor pushes all thoughts of her blond best friend from her mind and goes to rescue him, ducking out from under Adam's sweaty arm and walking away without a backwards glance, ignoring the confusion in his voice as he calls her name. She pushes through the crowd to her friend and steps right in front of the girl he's trying to talk to, grabbing his hand with her free one.

"Come dance with me?"

The smile of pure relief that breaks out over his face makes her own widen as he lets her pull him back through the mass of bodies to a less-crowded part of the make-shift dance floor, the tension bleeding out of his hunched shoulders with every step.

"You're an angel, Sailor." 

She laughs and wraps her arm around his shoulders, leading him in a carefree twirl across the cool sand. "Tell me something I don't know."

Like a leaf caught up in a whirlwind, he's helpless to resist her infectious joy as they dance, grinning like fools and poking fun at each other; for a while, the redhead tries to forget about stupid, clueless boys and focuses on Pope who, while still a clueless boy, doesn't expect anything from her but pure, unconditional friendship that she's all too willing to give (although she did have a teensy little crush on him when they first became friends, she got over it pretty fast the second he started talking about the bodily functions of dead bodies in explicit detail). She shares her drink with him, giggling at the way his face morphs from curiosity to disgust to delight at the taste of her cinnamon beer concoction and lets him down the rest while she drinks straight from the flask that she pulls from her back pocket. 

"You've got a shadow." Pope says, slightly nodding his chin over her shoulder and she takes his hand again, slowly spinning herself under his arm to take a quick glance, rolling her eyes when she spots Adam staring at her from the edge of the crowd. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately. Thought he was cute, then he called me crazy." She tucks the whiskey away with a shrug at her friend's sympathetic wince, then steps closer to him and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. "Wanna help me tell him to take a long walk off a short cliff?"

"Uh-"

"I think I can help with that," A familiar voice cuts off Pope's reply as JJ suddenly appears at her side, slipping his hand into her back pocket to spin her right into the circle of his arms before he plucks the flask from the other and takes a big sip in one smooth kinda sexy move. "Straight Fireball? Damn, Sail."

The redhead carefully schools her features into a blank mask but her body has other ideas, one hand instantly settling on his chest like it's second nature and her face flushing from more than just the alcohol as she casually replies, "You know I like things a little spicy." Completely aware of the way he's watching her every move, she snatches the whiskey back and downs the little bit that's left, trying and failing to ignore the thrill that shoots through her at those bright blue eyes of his darkening when her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Pope rolls his eyes at them both before muttering a quick 'see ya' and hastily melting back into the crowd. 

"So, who're we telling to fuck off?" His voice is just a little strained and she feels her cool facade start to crack as she scowls, subtly tilts her head toward where Adam's still staring at her with an expression that looks like he ate a sour lemon. JJ spins her around to take a very conspicuous peek and her mouth curls into a grin, mask breaking completely when he shoots the touron a glare that screams 'try me, I dare you'; the heat from his hand still in her pocket burns as he leans in until his forehead rests on hers. "Let's give him a show."

Sailor hums and pretends to mull it over even as she coyly snakes her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, the harder panes of his body sliding almost sinfully against her softer curves as they sway together, "I don't know, you looked pretty cozy with that other girl earlier..." Is it kind of petty to bring it up? Yes, yes it is, but she can't resist toying with him like he did to her, just as she can't help the breathless gasp that escapes her lips when his fingers press hard into the toned flesh of her ass through her shorts.

"Why, Flynn, are you jealous?"

"Please, I saw that glare you gave him. If anyone's jealous, it's you, Maybank." She fires back while carding both hands through his hair and the pure gratification she feels at his slight shiver is nothing short of euphoric. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely takes notice of the frown Adam sends their way before he turns and stalks off toward the other side of the beach; honestly, she's so caught up in JJ and everything about him -the slow swing of his hips, the hands burning hot against the strip of her back exposed by her crop top, the darkened look in those ocean eyes- that she'd completely forgotten about the touron she danced with earlier in an effort to forget the boy she's dancing with now. She should've known it wouldn't have worked: Sailor could never forget JJ, no matter how hard she tries. He's like a permanent mark on her, a tattoo inked in gold, a beautiful, wonderous scar that she never wants to fade away.  

"Seems like we scared him off so I don't have to worry about that anymore." His flushed face is so close she can feel his breath on her lips as he speaks and her eyes quickly flick down to his mouth on their own accord.

"And what about me?" She asks, twirling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, heart beating fast in anticipation as he smirks wickedly at the way her own face turns cherry red.

"Sail, babe, you don't have to worry about a damn thing."

All one of them has to do is tilt their head and everything will fall into place and she can once again know what it's like to kiss him-

"Let it go, Topper!" A sudden, annoyed shout breaks the two apart before they can close that final distance (Sailor's not sure who would've made the first move and she's both relieved and disappointed they won't get to find out), turning away from each other in tandem toward the gathering mass of bodies chanting 'fight, fight!' at the shoreline. 

"JB, he's not worth it!" At the sound of Kiara's voice, they take off running across the sand and shove their way to the front of the crowd just in time to see Topper Thornton in all his frat boy glory get absolutely slammed with a hard punch to the jaw, courtesy of John B. The kook barely hits the ground before he's back on his feet and lunging forward to tackle him into the water, landing a hit of his own square in the eye.

"What the hell happened?" Sailor grabs Kiara's elbow and the dark haired girl looks at her with wide eyes as the boys continue to roll around, exchanging brutal blows while a stunned Pope watches from her other side.

"I don't even know, they just started wailing on each other!"

JJ stands silent to Sailor's right, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists as he stares at the brawl and she reaches over to wrap her fingers around his wrist, thumb calmly running circles on his skin.

"Top, seriously! Stop it!" Sarah Cameron stands in the sand just before the crashing waves, yelling furiously at her boyfriend and throwing her arms in the air when he ignores her. "What is wrong with you?"

The moment Topper lands three punches in a row on John B's battered face, Sailor decides she's seen enough. She rushes forward without thinking to grab the blond boy's arm, pulling as hard as she can in an attempt to get him off her friend and barely has time to register what's happening when the fist he was aiming at John B suddenly swings at her. It connects solidly with her left cheek and makes her stumble back, her hand flying to her throbbing face before she goes down hard onto her butt in the surf. 

"What the fuck, Thornton?"

"Did you just punch a girl?"

"Ohhhh shit!"

A cacophony of voices yells from the shore as the kook boy stares down at her, momentarily stunned when he realizes who exactly he hit, and it gives John B an opening to wrestle him back into the water and land a solid punch right to his nose. Everything happens so fast after that that the redhead, still reeling in a wide-eyed daze, has a little trouble keeping up. First, Kiara and Pope splash through the waves to her side, kneeling down to help her to her feet with their arms around her waist. Second, Topper gains the upper hand and straight up tries to drown John B, holding his head under the water while Sarah screams at him to stop. And third, JJ -reckless, bold, protective JJ- pulls out that damn stolen gun, effectively bringing the whole mess to a grinding halt when he stalks forward and presses the barrel to the side of Topper's head.

"Your move, broski." He threatens and the beach is so quiet everyone can hear the click of the safety being switched off. The kook slowly raises his hands in the air and John B emerges from the water, stumbling forward onto his hands and knees with a horrible wet cough.

It's all too much for Sailor's poor tipsy self to take. The world spins beneath her feet as her head starts to pound and her shaking fingers fail to find purchase on Kiara's and Pope's shoulders.

"Guys, I don't feel so good," She manages to whisper and their looks of concern (the former) and panic (the latter) are the last thing she sees before her legs give out and everything goes black.

-

The first thing she registers is the pain that radiates from the left side of her face, her whole head throbbing with every beat of her heart and the sound of loud whispering right by her ear isn't helping at all. 

"That's the best you can do, J? Seriously?"

"The power's out! I can't exactly pull ice out of my ass, Kie."

Something semi-cold gently rests against her cheek and she audibly sighs at the little bit of relief she feels, her hand sluggishly rising to hold it a little closer as she mumbles, "I wouldn't want your ass ice anyway." At least she tries to: her mouth feels like it's full of cotton and she's pretty sure the only thing that comes out is unintelligible gibberish.

Sailor opens her eyes and finds herself lying on her back on the sleeper sofa at the Chateau, a passed out John B to her right. Pope sits on the edge of the mattress by his side, holding a beer bottle to his friend's black eye and he sends her a relieved smile when he notices she's awake.

"There she is," JJ says from her other side and she turns to face him, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her, and the unabashed concern in his eyes sends a golden warmth through her whole body. Her fingers slip down the hand that's still holding the bottle to her cheek so she can run her thumb over the delicate bones in his wrist in a silent thank you.

A different, softer hand rests on her knee and she tears her gaze away from his face to smile at Kiara as she says, "Good to see you're okay, Sail."

The redhead sinks back into the pillow in embarrassment and covers her eyes with her free hand. God, she really passed out, didn't she? She passed out after taking one lousy punch to the face by a fucking kook, no less. How completely mortifying. She swallows thickly and sounds like a chain smoker when she says, "I'm so sorry, guys. I'm a total idiot."

The other three conscious pogues start protesting all at once -apparently there's many, many, different ways to say she's not an idiot- and the resulting volume of their combined voices is enough to make her headache even worse. She sits up and scoots back until she's propped against the couch and sets the now warm beer on the side table before massaging both of her temples.

"Will you please shut up, I can feel my brain beating in my skull."

For a second, there's wonderful, blissful silence and then:

"Holy shit, thank you," A groggy voice says to her right and she turns to watch a bleary-eyed John B claw his way back to consciousness. "You guys are fucking loud."

"He lives!" JJ shouts, ignoring the four glares sent his way and reaching over to clap his hand against the brunet boy's shoulder. "Welcome back, dude."

"Ugh," He suddenly rolls onto his stomach -Pope deftly catching the bottle when it nearly falls from the bed- and his muffled voice floats out from the pillow he shoves his head under like an ostrich in the sand. "Knock me back out."

"Aww, poor baby." Sailor gives his back a sympathetic pat and chuckles softly when he blindly feels around for her arm, pushing it away with another deep groan and a 'fuck off, Sail' that lacks any type of venom.

"Okay, now that you're both kind of conscious, let's agree that neither of you will ever fucking do that again. Got it?" Kiara addresses John B and Sailor as she stands from the bed and crosses her arms, fixing the latter with a piercing look that makes her feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar; she opens her mouth to defend herself but before she can say anything, Kiara turns her furious gaze to JJ and points an accusing finger at his face. "And you! What the hell were you thinking pulling that damn gun out, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, Kie!" He suddenly rockets to his feet and throws his hands in the air. "Sail got socked in the face and JB was getting fucking drowned, I wasn't really thinking much at all!”

The dark haired girl can't seemed to think of a response to that and looks away, staring at the floor with her jaw clenched as Pope, ever the mediator, rises to his feet, too, and rounds the bed to step between them placatingly.

"Let's just drop it for tonight, okay? They need to rest." He says, nodding toward the two still on the bed before wrapping his hand around Kiara's elbow and turning her toward the front door. She immediately pulls her arm from his grasp but still nods in agreement, the hard look in her eyes softening when she glances at her injured friends.

"Yeah, okay." She says and glances down at her watch, wincing when she catches sight of the time. "My parents'll kill me if I'm not home soon, anyway."

"Come on, I'll take you guys home." JJ says with a conciliatory look in her direction as Pope tosses him the Volkswagen's keys from his pocket and when she nods back, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, Sailor knows that all is forgiven, at least for now. 

"Are you sure you're good to drive?" She asks and immediately rolls her eyes at his sarcastic reply of "Yes, Mom," and the obnoxious wink he shoots her.

The trio leaves after a quick round of goodbyes and John B waits until he hears the sound of his van driving away before finally emerging from under the pillow and rolling onto his back.

"Sensing the immediate danger has passed, the ostrich cautiously pulls its head out from the sand..." She says in her best David Attenborough impression, laughing when he tosses the pillow at her head with an amused grin.

"Ha ha. I was trying to avoid getting a Kie lecture," He explains, running both hands down his face with a heavy sigh. "It feels like my head's gonna explode."

"You and me both, dude." She carefully probes at her swollen cheek and is more than a little surprised to feel the beginnings of a scab forming near her eye. She knew Topper landed a solid punch but she didn't realize how solid that hit was until now as she catches sight of the tiny bit of drying blood left behind on her fingertips. 

"That looks like it hurts. You okay?" John B asks and she looks up from wiping her hand clean on her shorts, stiff from dried saltwater, with a wrinkle of her freckled nose.

"I'm alright. How about you? No offense but your eye looks like shit."

"I'll live." He answers with a shrug as he pulls himself upright on the mattress and leans his head against the back of the couch. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?" 

He sluggishly turns his head to look Sailor in the eye and shrugs again. "For trying to help me out. Sorry I got you punched."

She smirks and reaches over to give his hand a brief, friendly squeeze as she replies, "It's not your fault I got myself punched. I'm sorry your ass almost drowned."

He snorts at that and she's relieved to hear it, knowing that he can still joke around and he's not, like, completely traumatized or something. Poor guy's already got enough to deal with without adding a mental breakdown to the list. She swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slowly stands before taking a tentative step forward; when her knees hold and she doesn't fall flat on her face, she makes her way to his side and holds both hands out to him with a small, lighthearted smile.

"Yeah, you're delirious. Near death experiences do that to you." She says, helping him to his feet and, after looping his arm over her shoulders and sliding hers around his waist, the two teenagers carefully shuffle down the hall in the dim light of the emergency lantern on the kitchen table to his room, where she unceremoniously dumps him onto his bed. "Sleep it off. And for the love of God, please change. You smell terrible."

She goes to leave as he laughs again, tugging his shirt off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes near the closet before saying, "Hey, Sailor?"

The redhead pauses with one foot in the hall and leans against the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"You know you're a badass, right?"

She laughs and sends him a wink but her heart is oh so light as she turns and heads to the spare room, calling back over her shoulder, "Nice to see someone acknowledge it. Now go to bed!"

-

The sound of the Chateau's front door opening and closing startles Sailor awake and she blinks heavily, wondering when exactly she'd fallen asleep. Last thing she remembers she was staring out at the fireflies through the open window as she steadily ran her hand down the length of Binx's back and their ethereal glow, combined with the breeze dancing around her shoulders, must've pulled her right under. Down the hall, she hears a loud thump, followed by JJ cursing as he runs into something and she giggles to herself, rolling onto her side to face the hall. He appears in the darkened doorway a minute later, rubbing his knee with a scowl on his face and she laughs louder at his quiet, venomous hiss of "fuck that fucking chair."

"Rude. It's not the chair's fault you always run into it." She teases and he shoots her a flat, unamused look before turning to glance down the hall toward John B's room, his fingers holding tight to the door frame.

"He's okay, you know. Told him to get some sleep." His head swings to face her when she speaks with soft words and even in the dark, she can see the way his tense shoulders slowly relax and his hand loosens, falling back to his side as he nods, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"And you?" He asks, his eyes never wavering from hers as he kicks his boots off and pulls his shirt over his head; the sight of his messy hair and the muscles in his arms make it a little hard for Sailor to breathe, the gentle wind she once thought of as cool now doing nothing to help calm her flushed skin when she scoots over in bed to give him room to lie down next to her. Binx looks as disgruntled as a cat can look as he loses his comfy spot and jumps down from the bed, only to immediately leap onto the windowsill and stretch out.

"What about me?"

JJ rolls over to face her, reaching one hand up to cup her injured face and runs his calloused thumb under the cut on her cheekbone. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, she shifts closer and lays her head on his outstretched arm, covering his hand with her own and effortlessly fitting her fingers into the spaces between his. "I'm fine. Even better, now."

He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Good, 'cause I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

When those pesky butterflies come raging back with a vengeance, she realizes she's fighting a battle she hopes to lose.

-

The sound of a conversation in the kitchen, low voices drifting through the closed door of the guest room wakes Sailor early the next morning. Sunlight filters in through the windows and she squeezes one eye shut against the painful brightness, the other still squished into JJ's shoulder. His arm is a welcome weight slung over her hip and his deep, even breaths are soft against her forehead as he sleeps on, dead to the voices down the hall. With the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile, she smooths his fine blond hair away from his face and runs her fingers along his jawline before carefully sliding out from under his arm and quietly heading toward the kitchen.

Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she rounds the corner and stops short when she catches sight of the person standing by the table, her cheerful 'good morning' getting stuck on her tongue; she was expecting Pope and Kiara, not the goddamn sheriff! Shooting John B a wide-eyed look that makes him shake his head (what the fuck did that even mean?!), the redhead forces a smile and hastily offers her a wave.

"Uh, good morning, Sheriff. Sorry to interrupt, just, uh, grabbing some water."

She just nods in acknowledgement before turning her attention back to the brunet boy and Sailor breathes an inaudible sigh of relief. Holy shit, is that woman scary. She heads to the sink and keeps one ear on the conversation as she quickly fills a glass with water and pops two aspirin, the headache from last night made even worse by the addition of a whiskey hangover. 

"I didn't realize you had company, John B. Wild night?" The sheriff asks and Sailor meets her friend's eyes again, her anxiety rising when she sees his thinly veiled panic. Her back to Peterkin, she silently implores him to say something, anything -hell, she even tries to subtly mime surfing with her hands to help him out- but he stays silent, so she gathers her courage, plasters a smile on her face, and twirls to face her.

"Busy day, actually. We went surfing all day after cleaning up the yard." She says, jerking her thumb toward the heap of broken branches piled by the fire pit visible through the living room window; when the sheriff turns to look, she quickly elbows John B in the side, ignoring his huff of surprise as she nods her head in her direction.

"Yeah, surfing! All day." He blurts out, sending Sailor a lukewarm glare when she quickly mouths 'what the fuck was that?' before they both straighten up and spin back to the older woman just as she turns to face them again.

"Right." Peterkin hums and arches one eyebrow as she glances back and forth between the two teenagers. "Now tell me, how'd you both get those bruises? They look pretty painful."

"Oh, this?" Sailor asks, pointing at her cheek with a casual shrug, "I tried to hang ten and bit it pretty hard. My board caught me right in the face."

Peterkin looks at her for a beat longer than normal and the redhead does her best to keep her expression neutral as her palms start to sweat. "Surfing, really? Thought you were pretty experienced in that department."

John B adds, offering some much needed back up, "Even the pros wipe out every once in awhile, you know?" He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. "My board got me good, too."

"Yeah, it just was not our day," She says with a nervous chuckle, refilling her water and slowly starting to back out of the kitchen, pretending she doesn't see the dismayed look her friend sends her way; her anxiety can't take another second of the sheriff's piercing gaze and she needs to get away fast, lest she start recounting every single second of their activities both legal and not so legal- from yesterday in explicit detail. "And I'm still pretty tired so I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit. Nice talking to you, Sheriff."

After disappearing around the corner before either of them can reply, she creeps down the hallway, keeping her footfalls as light as she can, and she's so focused on trying to listen in on what Peterkin's saying that she runs smack into JJ, standing in the doorway of the spare room. His arm instantly darts out to wrap around her waist and pull her close, keeping her from falling right on her butt as he says, "There you are-"

"Shhh!" Sailor hisses quietly, covering his mouth with her hand, "The damn sheriff is here!"

He mumbles something into her palm but she she holds a finger to her lips, pushing him back into the room and softly closing the door behind them before pressing her ear against it and dropping her hand from his face. He mirrors her position with a question clear as day in his wide eyes, 'what the fuck?', arm still looped around her lower back.

"She's grilling him about yesterday," She says simply, then turns her attention back to the faint voices floating through the door. The duo listens in silence, trying and failing to discern what's being said until they hear the sound of the sheriff's boots on the front porch and her squad car tires crunching through the gravel as she drives away and they exchange a worried look. JJ had it right: what the fuck, indeed. 

"Holy shit, guys," John B's voice suddenly says from the hallway. The door opens before they have time to back away and it sends them sprawling to the floor in a twisted pile of limbs; the brunet boy -who'd usually find something like that hilarious- barely reacts to their position and sends them both a tense frown, his next words dropping like a damn anchor in the marsh.

"We need to go check out that Grady-White again, and fast."

Sailor groans and lets her head fall back onto the floor with a thunk. "Here we go."

-

let me know what you think! fun fact: ostriches actually do put their heads in the sand, but it's not because they sense danger. female ostriches bury their eggs to keep them safe from predators and they'll occasionally stick their head into the sand to check on them and give 'em a lil turn 😊

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves​ @jiaraendgame​ @hmsjiara​ @maysbanks​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @sunflowerbecca​ @obxlife​ @obx-adventures​ @sexualparkour​ @coltonparayyko​ @miawantsapuppy​

[omgthatdress]

How to make Cats a good movie.

I watched Cats, and once I got over the initial horror, I was actually pretty entertained and found myself enjoying the shit out of it. Like god bless it, for as nightmare-inducing as much as it was, Tom Hooper was clearly *committed* to his vision and you gotta give him credit for that. The scenery was actually really beautiful and the cinematography was frequently breathtaking. Like it really did have a lot of elements that really worked for it. But for every bit of genius, there was something terrible that the movie just couldn’t overcome. So let’s dive in.

First of all, you kind of have to understand Cats: the musical. It’s an adaptation of poems that T.S. Elliott of nihilistic lost generation fame wrote for his godchildren about cats. And the poetry is charming af and totally captures the nature of cats and why they’re so lovable. In the in the 1970s, Andrew Lloyd Webber did a shit ton of cocaine and decided to make a musical out of these poems. As a result, Cats has no plot. It’s a bunch of cats singing their songs about who they are and doing a lot of dancing. The thinnest of narrative devices is created with the “jellicle” ball and the deciding of which cat gets to ascend to heaven or some shit. So yeah. Cats is actually pretty controversial among theater nerds, it’s very much a you either love it or hate it thing. Is it stupid? Yes.  Is it going to make everyone happy? No. Does it lend itself well to film adaptation? fuck no. I get the feeling that Tom Hooper was really going for deep, meaningful poetic cinema here and trying to make another Les Mis (which was way overly long and ultimately sank under its own sheer weight as a movie and probably is better viewed as a play). I’m operating under the assumption that Hooper was going for ground-breaking cinema that would have made millions and swept up during awards season and cemented him as a legendary director and gone down in movie history, because every little detail of Cats is clearly meant for maximum impact. You kind of need to drop all expectations going into Cats, so once you’re there, you can have fun with it. So how do you make it a good film?

1. The HORRIBLE hyper-realistic cgi human-cat hybrids. YES, it’s a technical marvel, and the CGI artists who made it all deserve a ton of credit for the work they did. And I understand why the actors were kept in their human shapes: live dance is a huge part of what makes Cats work. One of the smart decisions made was hiring theater veterans for the filler roles in the cat chorus, so when you have the choreographed numbers, it’s really spectacular. It’s just the end result was way too uncanny valley and bizarre for any of the film’s good parts to ever rise above it. I think a minimalist approach would have actually worked best. Cat ears and simple costumes with clean lines that show off the dancer’s bodies. Go for the suggestion of cats, and kind of let the viewer’s imagination take over, and showcase the cat’s personality. A huge part of what I enjoyed was hearing the poetry and imagining these cats and how they all relate to cats I’ve known. The dance and the music helped heighten this experience, but hybrids kept reminding me of the joke: what do you get when you cross a human and a cat? An immediate cessation of funding and a stern rebuke from the ethics committee.

2. The schlocky, honestly amateurish attempts at slapstick humor. I’m gonna come out and say it and say that Hooper is pretty deeply entrenched in *dRaMa* and has no sense of how comedy works. There was a lot of added in comedic bits from Rebel Wilson and James Corden, and it was honestly terrible. I mean really, a crotch hit? That kind of lowbrow comedy is so crude and base that it’s actually really hard to pull it off well. Slapstick comedy actually lends itself to the whimsical tone, and slapstick done well can be utterly sublime, but Cats seemed satisfied that fat people falling over is the height of comedy and should be left at that. And a second note on the comedy? Weirdly fat-shame-y. A saw a post about how odd it is to see James Corden, who has been very frank about how he’s struggled with dieting and come to accept that his body is fat and can’t be made not fat, playing this role where fat is added to his body, his CGI vest strains at the buttons, and he’s literally stuffing his face with garbage. The theme of fat people as lazy, stupid, and slovenly carried over from Rebel Wilson’s role, in which she also plays a fat lazy cat who is leaned on heavily for comic relief. I know the role is about a fat cat, and gently laughing at a fat lazy cat who loves to eat is fine, but, speaking as a fat person myself, this felt like a gleeful exploitation of a nasty and cruel stereotype. James Corden and Rebel Wilson are both extraordinarily funny people who happen to be fat, and their comedic gifts were tremendously mis-used here, reducing them to simply two fat bodies to be laughed at.

3. Jennifer Hudson. She’s a talented actress who can sing and emote like a motherfucker. And emote she did. She was clearly GOING for that second Oscar. I really don’t want to call her performance bad. The same level of emotion, tears running and snot flowing, in another movie, would have been devastating (Hello, Viola Davis in Fences). But this isn’t Fences, it’s fucking Cats. You need a level of character depth and development that Cats doesn’t afford to make those tears hit. All the crying and misery was an odd maudlin and over-dramatic break in the fun and whimsy. With a subtler performance and a hint of self-awareness, it could have actually brought in an emotional anchor for this light-as-air film, but Cats doesn’t make any attempt at nuance, and as a result the scenes just hit you out of nowhere like a load of bricks. 

4. Francesca Hayward. Okay, before we go anywhere, I want to say that this girl is not un-talented. She’s the principal ballerina of the Royal Ballet, and has a very long list of ballets that she’s lead in. So it makes sense that she’d be hired for a role that’s primarily ballet. This girl is a really really great DANCER. But Cats was clearly trying to make an A-list actress out of her. They tried to make her into Florence Pugh, who has been acting for a while and is blowing up right now because she’s very talented. Like everything about Francesca’s role in the film said “This is a star-making role.” A new song was written just for her to sing as an addendum to Cats’s show-stopping signature song. But the song was just okay, it didn’t carry nearly the emotional weight or all-around beauty of “Memories,” and all in all felt wedged-in and totally unnecessary and really just felt like a grab at that “best original song” Oscar. Francesca’s voice is high, thin, and child-like. It’s not unpleasant, but next to the richness and depth of Jennifer Hudson’s voice, it crumbles, and it’s not the sort of voice that I want to seek out to listen to over and over again. As for her overall performance, she largely keeps the same look of wide-eyed wonder throughout her numerous close-ups, so much so that I found myself thinking of the the MST3K “dull surprise” sketch. But I don’t know if that’s really entirely her fault. There was an attempted romantic storyline with the magic cat, but again, because of the nature of Cats and its lack of real character development or depth, the chemistry fell flat. There really isn’t much of a chance to show off a lot of dramatic range, so to keep going back to her character, it kept reinforcing the one-notedness of her performance. Really, I just kept wanting to see Francesca dance. Ironically, I think they really blew an opportunity trying to make an A-list actress out of her. All she really need to make people want to see more of her is one spectacular dance number, but for some reason, she never really gets that show-stopping moment. 

5. Dignity? I guess this goes back to the whole CGI cat thing, but there were a lot of moments when I felt this tremendous wave of second-hand embarrassment hit me on behalf of the talented actors in this film. Watching Gandalf lap up milk from a saucer was a wholly uncomfortable experience, like come on, grant the great Ian McKellan some fucking DIGNITY here. Which goes back to whatI said earlier that a suggestion and interpretation of cats would have worked better than all-out just being a cat. Or it could again just be how much Cats just fails its attempts at comedy. But then again there was no fucking reason at all for Idris Elba to be that fucking NAKED. I guess they were trying to make him sexy? But his sexy smolder and just being Idris Elba wasn’t enough they had to make sure that we all saw his chiseled pecs and thick thighs. And then at the end when he’s dangling off of the rope of a hot air balloon and what’s supposed to be a funny scene, I think, I kept thinking “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Idris.” 

There’s a bunch of other small, nit-picky things that I could go into. Those cockroaches would have worked so much better if they weren’t humans with an extra set of arms. Watching them get eaten was some horror movie shit. Taylor Swift’s Macavity song would have worked a lot better if the cat chorus full of cats we’ve gotten to know had sung it, but instead Taylor Swift is brought in as a new cat we don’t know whose only purpose is to sing the Macavity song? but of course a big oscar-bait movie needs to have that pop star that draws in the people who wouldn’t otherwise see it and making her a part of the cat chorus would have had her performing throughout the whole movie and she would have floundered the way pop stars tend to do when performing musical theater around a bunch of musical theater actors. So I guess I get why she was thrown in.

So.... yeah? Is there anyone else who found themselves enjoying it in spite of everything? I’m glad I have dogs and didn’t have to watch this mess with actual cats around me.

[hypnotica-ships]

Quite The Sting

Bit of a time skip. Some bonding with Holger involved. Not to mention Crow's first mission...that may turn out to be his last.

Phase 1: Part 6

Word Count: (About) 2,666

1//2//3//4//5//6//7//8//9

Months of hard training, and many infirmary visits later, Crow still can't get much headway with beating Holger. It's not due to lack of trying though, no, Holger is just making sure he keeps Crow on his toes. By this point they have a system: they fight, Holger explains to Crow what he's doing wrong and how to fix it, Crow listens to about half of that, and is forced to visit the infirmary yet again. Both are growing. In not only strength, but in friendship.

After being cleared by the nurse, for the 8th time this week, Crow heads back to his room. His mind swimming with the thought of how to perfect the new maneuver Holger taught him this time. It really hurt, and he wants to weaponize it himself.

"Maybe if I....move faster, then I could hit him harder? Yeah, that sounds right..."

Entering his room, he's greeted by the familiar emptiness he's grown accustomed to at this time of the day. Holger usually has a meeting with Guile to give updates about him and his unit after their daily combat training. Usually giving Crow some time to himself for a while. Not that he enjoys it though. He's grown somewhat close to his cold superior, and almost misses talking to him sometimes.

Suddenly, he hears the door open. Holger's back earlier than usual, must of been a short meeting. He seems to be carrying something.

"Back early I see, I hope it went well."

"We discussed some things, nothing too important, like always. Charlie and him had some duties to attend to though, so we had to cut it short. I did, however...convince him to let you join me and my unit on our next mission."

"WHAT?!? NO WAY! How did ya manage that? He seemed pretty stern on waiting till I got more practice in."

"I just told him what I've been observing with you. You've been improving and actually listening to my orders, for the most part. I told him that I thought you were ready, and I just hope that you're willing to prove me right."

"I...yeah, thanks Holger. I appreciate it."

"Here, you'll be needing this if you're going to be representing one of my men."

Holger holds out the item he carried in with him, presenting it honorably towards Crow. A black army vest. It's similar to the one Holger and his men wear, complete with the red scorpion insignia on the back. Crow takes it gently, in utter awe of it and what it represents.

"Holger...I-"

"Don't think much of it. You still need to prove to me that you are capable out on the field. Our enemies won't just be sending you to the infirmary if they get a hold of you. I'd...rather not have to drag you back in a body bag..."

"I understand. I just...thank you. For more than just the mission thing. You gave me a second chance, most people would of given up on someone like me. You pushed through though, I...won't forget that."

"...I wouldn't of taken a chance if I didn't think you could do it. Just...don't let me down."

"I'll give it my all...sir."

The weeks leading up to to the next mission were...tense. Crow, not wanting to let this chance go to waste, gave it his all in everything that his superior threw at him. All culminating to the mission briefing and preparation meeting. Crow watches patiently as Holger goes over everything. Trying his best to stay as focused as his fellow unit members, but his nerves are starting to get to him. Shaking his right leg in an attempt to help ease his mind.

"This is strictly a covert mission. No drawing attention to ourselves. No getting caught. We will be leaving at nightfall to have extra coverage. We're to go in, get the info, and get out. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"The before mentioned info is located in secretary's safe in the middle of the base. We have to pass 3 rooms to reach it. Each door is heavily guarded by 4-6 men in each room. They change guard every 6 hours, which takes around 5 minutes each. They change one after the other, which gives us a small window to sneak through each room. If we miss any of those windows, we'll have to wait till the next change, wasting precious time. We will not be missing these windows. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Very well, grab your gear and we'll join at the helicopter waiting outside. Dismissed."

Crow's excited, yeah, but he's also worried about the consequences if he screws up. If they miss those windows, it'll be a huge setback, and no doubt disappoint Holger. Not to mention what would happen if they get caught... Trying to get a hold of his nerves, he grabs his gear and puts on the vest he was gifted. Making his way to the helicopter he sees Holger breaking up the ten man unit into groups of two, and assigning them positions.

"...Smith and Johnson, you're on lookout. Jones and Davis, you're to make sure our getaway here is protected and ready when we need it. Crow, you're with me."

He was stunned by the implications that Holger and himself are going to be going in there head first. Crow didn't have time to fully comprehend it as he was shuffled into the helicopter with the others. Taking his seat, he held his head in his hands, clearly worried. Holger took notice of this and took a seat next to him.

"Keep your cool, private. This is a simple mission, nothing too complicated. If you follow my orders, we'll be fine. We have enough back up in case things do get out of hand, but I doubt, with all the training and prep we've done, we'll need it. So, get it together, we'll be alright. After all, I've got your back."

"I'm that obvious...huh? I just wish I could stop shaking, I...I don't want to let you...the unit down...or have something even worse happen."

"...Even if this doesn't go exactly as planned...I won't be upset, as long as we get the job done, that's all that matters. I have confidence that you'll do just fine."

"...Thanks Holger, that...that helps."

The helicopter lands in it's designated area, behind a hill that's a few yards away form the enemy base, perfectly out of sight. Everyone starts moving into their designated positions. The six men that are going in start to head up the hill to get a good look of where the best point of entry is. Taylor, a younger looking man with short brown hair and glasses is the first to speak up. After looking through his binoculars, mentions that there's a door on the East side that is left unguarded at the moment and there appears to be no security cameras. Holger decides to give it a brief look over. When things look clear he gives the group the okay to head down.

Using the shadows as coverage, all of them get in without causing alarm. Once in, they all take cover. Three on one side of the hall, and three on the other. Holger peaks around the corner and informs the rest of the group, via hand motions, that this room has the minimum amount of 4 guards. According to the time, they should be changing in about 2.5 minutes. Giving the team advantage of the full 5 minute window when it comes.

All of a sudden, one of the team members notices that there are two cameras pointed at the door. They'll need to take care of those before they make their move towards the door. They aren't able to do that in the 2 minutes they have left without being seen, so they'll have use part of that precious 5 minute window instead.

Waiting for them to change seemed to take ages, the suspense was eating away at Crow. He tried to keep all that worry to himself, but it showed on his face clear as day. Holger noticed, but figured the best thing to do was to continue on with the plan. The guards were finally starting to leave and once there backs were turned, Holger and another man on the unit quickly disposed of the cameras via garrote wires. One yank from them and they were gone. A few moments after the guards were fully out of view, the group rushed into the next room.

This room was much smaller than the last, meaning less places to hide. Five guards by the door this time. The group broke off into their smaller assigned groups of two, and took cover behind crates that were strewn about the area. They cleared the first room ahead of schedule, so they had some extra time to scan this room. Two cameras positioned in a similar fashion as the last ones. Holger motioned to the group closest to them to take them out when the coast was clear. As Crow was scanning the place he noticed a major roadblock. The door they needed to go through this time had a key card scanner. Crow motioned to it to notify Holger.

Looking around, Holger noticed there was a ventilation system that lead into the next room. They would still have to wait for the guards to change otherwise they would all be spotted. They still needed to take care of the cameras as well. Meaning that the two men who had to take care of the cameras wouldn't have enough time to get to the vents. Leaving the group going forward slightly handicapped. If the two men timed it right, they could still head back the way they came and meet them back at the helicopter.

After Holger informed the others about what's to be done, it was time for the guards to change. It went pretty on beat as the first one did, take out the cameras and go, only this time with a vent detour. The vent path lead to an opening in the next room, giving what was left of the group a good view of this room.

Six men, four cameras, little to no places to hide. The only place someone could potentially hide was behind a set of chairs, but that'd only work for two men, and they still had a team four left. They had it all planned it out, but it wasn't the most ideal. The other team of two would go down when the guards change and take cover behind the chairs, taking out the cameras as soon as it was clear. Holger and Crow would then make it though the door, again leaving the other men to head back.

The time comes, and it goes as planned, almost. As Crow jumped down from the vents he lands wrong, spraining his ankle. He managed to keep up with Holger's pace and makes it through the door. He's visibly limping, and Holger grabs onto him to help him stabilize. This last room seems empty at least, but they still try to stay quiet.

"*Are you alright? Can you keep going?*"

"*I'm fine, just a little slow. Lets get this over with.*"

Scanning the room once again, they notice the closed safe with the documents they need behind a desk. There's also three cameras. Two pointed at the safe and one at the door. They don't really have a time crunch now, but it's best to get this done quickly. Holger wastes no time taking out the cameras as Crow makes his way to the safe. They both notice it's locked with a 4 digit combination.

"*How are we going to open this? We can't just take the whole safe with us. It's too heavy."

"*That's were this comes in.*"

Holger reaches into one of his vests pockets and pulls out a bundle of C-4. Carefully placing it near the locking mechanism on the safe. Motioning Crow to back up a bit.

"*Wait, won't that be too loud?*"

"*We got in here fast, the guards in the last room haven't fully changed over yet. No one is here to be alerted. We'll be fine.*"

Not a second later, and without warning, Holger detonates the C-4 blasting the safe wide open. Inside they see a folder filled to the brim with the documents they came in here for. Holger quickly grabs them and fingers though it, making sure it's all there. Unbeknownst to them at first, the safe was rigged with an alarm which set off a loud siren in the entire base as soon as the folder was moved. Fortunately, the other men in the unit were safely awaiting their captain at the helicopter. Unfortunately, said captain and his private were still deep inside the base.

"Damn it! We need to get to the vents! Now!"

Crow attempts to stand up and run, but is quickly brought back down to the ground. The pain that shot through his leg was to much for him to fight off any longer. Holger immediately lifts Crow and carries him to the vents. He has to help him in, giving the guards in the base plenty of time to get to the room. As Holger finally gets a chance to enter the vents himself, they hear the door swing open. Followed shortly by the sound of footsteps running in. No one seemed to notice the two hiding in the vents, but they could tell it wouldn't be long before they did if they didn't start moving.

"*Holger, I can't...move that fast....my leg it's too...swollen, and I'd just slow you down. Go in front of me and get out of here.*"

"*No, absolutely not. Do you have any idea what they would do to you if they caught you? We''ll get out of here together, or not at all.*"

Slowly shuffling through the vents they make it back to the third room, and then the second. The vents stop there, meaning they'll have to sneak through the the rest on foot. As Holger carefully helps Crow down out of the vent, they are interrupted by the sound of an intercom echoing throughout the base.

"ALL PERSONAL MUST EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. SEVERE SECURITY MEASURES IN EFFECT. SELF-DESTRUCTION IN T-MINUS 3 MINUTES."

Looking at each other with shock, Holger's grip on Crow tightens. No one is in this room, and the door is clear. Crow tries his best to shuffle to the door with his bum leg with Holger's help. Once they get to the metal door, it won't budge. It's far too sturdy to use C-4 on as well. Looking desperately for another exit, the two see a pile of wood planks leaned up against a wall. Removing the planks, they discover an area that was under renovation. They take no time rushing in, hoping that it leads to a way out.

"ALL PERSONAL MUST EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. SEVERE SECURITY MEASURES IN EFFECT. SELF-DESTRUCTION IN T-MINUS 2 MINUTES."

It's cold and dark. They can barely see what they ran into, but their hearts both sink once they realize they've encountered a dead end. Holger reaches for another C-4 and applies it to the wall, moving himself and Crow out of the blast zone, and detonates it. It's a desperate move, but they are all out of choices at this point.

"ALL PERSONAL MUST EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. SEVERE SECURITY MEASURES IN EFFECT. SELF-DESTRUCTION IN T-MINUS 1 MINUTE."

As the smoke clears they realize that did...nothing. The wall was too solid to be destroyed. They don't have enough time to make it back and check the door again, not that it would be unlocked anyways. Both of their hearts have sunken deep into their chests by now. Holger's grip on has loosened as he moves into a hug, holding Crow tight, and whispering something Crow can't quite make out.

"8"

"7"

"Holger, I'm sorry..."

"5"

"4"

"We were so close..."

"2"

"1"

"Hold on!"

Continued in Phase 1: Part 7

[rosesloveletters]

self-ship reference

this is a repost from my old blog and the self-ship tag I filled out quite a while ago, but I’d like to keep this as a reference on here for my main self-ships with J and Pat. I have added more onto the original post and tweaked some things - I truly enjoy sharing about them now❤❤ I will probably add to this from time to time to update things, just so I at least have some record of it somewhere; I wouldn’t want to forget them❤

I now also have ship names for J, Pat and I: 

J / Jack x Rosie = Jaie

 - first two letters of his name and last two letters of my name❤ (literally pronounced as ‘J’)

Patrick Verona x Rosie = Verose 

- first three letters of his last name combined with my entire legal name (Rosie is just a nickname of mine.)

last updated: november 29, 2020

please do not read if you are not interested in or comfortable with self-shipping.

word count: 3,568

Date you got together?

J: 10/22/19. I was aware of J when I was 8-9 years old but we never had a relationship or anything. He and I “found each other” again last October. I feel like he found me when he knew I was ready for a relationship with him. I had a whole lot going on when I was younger and I still do, but I think I’m in the best mentality I could be and I’ve grown up a lot in the past couple of years. I was not where I am now and I am strong enough to handle his persona. 

Pat: 3/30/20. Pat and I got together a few months after J and I, but it seems almost like the same amount of time. We really didn’t get to become too close because J overpowers him and monopolizes my time whenever he can. We only started to get closer a few months ago because J was distant enough to let Pat come closer. The two used to find it difficult to coexist, but they’ve been able to work it out. Now, Pat and J are almost as close as each of them are with me. They still bicker and call each other names, but it is done with love rather than malice. 

Favorite personality trait?

I love all of their personality traits, but for the sake of being succinct I’m only sharing one for each.

J: His ‘devil-may-care’ attitude. I heavily admire that J can do whatever he wants regardless of the rules - he’s untouchable and nothing can hurt him. I wish I could have a taste of that and perhaps that is one of the reasons I’m drawn to J; he gives me an outlet and a way to experience that kind of freedom that is unattainable within my real life.

Pat: His independence and how he isn’t affected by what others think of him (I know I said only one for each but I admire both of these qualities equally). I always admire independence because I am very independent as well. And as someone who used to be very concerned with how others saw me, I admire the lack of that quality in Pat because I strive to be that way every single day. I don’t want to be defined by what people think of me. Watching Pat be a good person in spite of his reputation inspires me so much - that is the exact sort of person I’d like to be.

Favorite physical trait?

I love all of their physical traits, but for the sake of being succinct I’m only sharing one for each.

J: His hands. I can always tell when J is touching me, rubbing my back or holding my hand. His hands are so distinctly him. They’re calloused and rough, but I love the way he softens from the inside out when his hands are on me and the gentlest touch is almost ironic coming from him.

Pat: His smile. Pat’s smile is brighter than the sun and more inviting than a hot bath or a warm cup of cocoa. I would do absolutely anything to see his warm smile, anything.

Couple song

main songs:

Faithfully - Journey

Lover - Taylor Swift

Daylight - Taylor Swift

Your Song - Elton John

Pet peeves…

J: If I have food he’ll just kind of grab off my plate, he never fully washes the shampoo out of his hair so he comes out greasier than when he got in, he’ll drink after me because he knows I hate that and won’t drink any more so he gets the rest, he won’t just get in the bed normally he’ll flop down and kind of mess around or bounce obnoxiously until he’s “comfortable”, gets crumbs in the bed, (J annoys me a lot, can you tell?) He also has this new habit of waking me up by digging his fingers into my hair and scratching the back of my head really obnoxiously and it is terrifying when I’m not prepared for it lol. 

Pat: Pat doesn’t annoy me half as much as J. The only thing is that he tends to be very clingy and I’m pretty independent and, when I get in a certain mood, I do not want physical affection and it can get under my skin a bit. Most of the time this is not an issue because I love affection; it’s only the rarest of occasions. If I’m in a rotten mood, sometimes I won’t want him near me because I know he’ll try to hug me and I’m not wanting it. 

Favorite outfit on them?

J: his normal, hexagonal patterned shirt, vest and suspenders make me feral, but seeing him in a regular t-shirt is quite a treat. He gave me one of his shirts and I’ve got it in my closet. I wore it on Valentine’s Day which is what got me through the day (J and Pat both know I hate that day). When J’s got me on his lap, I like to play with his suspenders while he’s wearing them; he is amused but doesn’t know why I like them so much.  

Pat: his gray, striped, long-sleeve top and dark jeans. I love and live for the simplicity of it. He has a silver chain around his neck and it peeks out beneath his shirt collar and I like to play with it when he’s holding me. J thinks I just get bored, but Pat thinks the reason I have to be playing with something is more of a nervous habit (Pat’s right). 

Favorite meal?

J: he likes meat and rarely cares what kind it is. He is partial to steak, but he’ll eat pretty much any meat you put in front of him.

Pat: tomato soup and grilled cheese. This is our go-to comfort meal and Pat and I make it for each other often.

Early bird or night owl?

J: It depends. J doesn’t ever sleep a whole lot, but he leans toward being more of a night owl because he’s more active and alert under cover of darkness. We see less of him at night because of this but he still will lay down with us and rest for a couple of hours at a time. He’ll take cat naps during the day if need be.

Pat: Pat used to be a night owl before he met me and when he used to go to bars and play pool. Now he’s an early bird like me; he likes to stay in because he can’t wait to get into bed and cuddle every night. He also does a lot during the day and he gets tired so he will go to bed early because he really needs the rest.

Snorer or sleep talker?

J: he usually doesn’t make much noise in his sleep because he rarely gets into a deep sleep. There are very rare occasions when his body needs a deep sleep and is threatening to give out unless he does so. During those times, he snores so freaking loud. Pat and I usually leave the room because it’s so loud we can’t get any sleep. Fortunately when he needs a heavy sleep he does so during the day when we aren’t around so he doesn’t feel like he has to stay awake to make sure we’re safe.

Pat: Pat doesn’t snore but he sometimes mumbles in his sleep a tiny bit, especially if he’s dreaming. He’ll mumble under his breath and press his whole body against mine (it’s my favorite thing ever). 

Do you have any pets together?

We don’t, mainly because J wouldn’t help me with any pets because he’s not around enough and none of us would want the same kind of pet. My pets are my own thing, even though they are both are nice to my pets and have no problem with them at all.

Pet names! (Both from them and yours for them)

J’s for me: (My) Rosebud/thorn, (My) wild red rose (J knows that I hate my name but he still insists on variations of it. He says that he admires roses because you have to accept being poked by a thorn or two to admire their beauty. It makes sense but I don’t know if he actually believes that or not), prickly pear (another thing with thorns - I’m seeing a theme here, J),  sweets, doll, little one (occasionally)

Mine for J: I mostly only call him J or Jack (we worked through me calling him by his real name and now he’s not as bothered by it.) Pat and I both call J either soldier or sergeant sometimes. On rare occasion, I call him Jack-Jack. 

Pat’s for me: Strawberry (because of a comfort item I own), Buttercup, baby, babygirl, sweetheart, girlie, hazel eyes (occasionally), wallaby. 

Mine for Pat: Pattycake, lover-boy, Koala, Kangaroo Boy (he used to hate being called this, but we made it into a joke and now he likes it though only if I am the one using it.) J also calls him ‘brat’ or ‘kid’. 

How often do you fight? What starts fights?

J: J and I bicker a lot but our fights are pretty rare. When we do fight, it’s usually my fault. I confront him with the fact that I don’t think he cares or that he’s here with me for some ulterior motive. Most of the time he will fight back because it’s just his nature to do so. We’ve spent time apart in the past because of this and I’m still learning that he does care, but the way he does so is much different from what Pat does. J gets pretty pissed off when I tell him I think he hates me. 

Pat: Pat and I have never had a fight (this used to be because we didn’t spend as much time together - J is very overbearing when he’s around and he pushes Patrick away from me; he doesn’t like sharing - but now it’s because we just get along really, really well.) If we ever did have a fight I don’t know what would cause it or why we’d result to petty arguments and disagreements. Pat can be rather gruff and dismissive when he needs to be, but he is only that way to strangers (and J, occasionally). He is very open and loving towards me - he isn’t a big talker to others but to me I can’t ever get him to shut up.

Who apologizes first?

J: I do, unless J has done something severe, then he’ll come into my room at night and slip in unnoticed just so that he can give me the closeness I want. I found myself having to apologize for pushing him away because I do that a lot and he doesn’t deserve it. He is caring in his own right and I am hard on him for no reason sometimes. He forgives me and eventually starts coming around again. J apologizes with subtle touches. He might put his hand on my thigh or brush the back of my hand with his thumb or put a hand on the small of my back. He knows how much I crave little touches like that and it’s his way of saying sorry.

Pat: As I’ve said, Pat and I haven’t ever fought but I like to think we’d apologize at the same time. Pat and I don’t really hold grudges so when we do fight or argue, we’d be fine ten minutes later. We also know how to talk through our disagreements so it never goes so far as arguing. Pat doesn’t let me push him away. When I try to do that he just cuddles harder and tries to make me smile (it works and I hate him for it, just kidding).

Big spoon or little spoon?

J: Big spoon, always. He lays on the far side of the bed near the windows. He doesn’t worry about being as close to the door since it’s locked but he likes being close to the windows since they’re right next to my bed. He’s always firmly pressed up against my back with his arm around my stomach. J has an aversion to having anyone at his back; he feels much too vulnerable in that position.

Pat: Big or little spoon, depending on his mood. Pat loves to love and be loved. If he’s feeling soft and gentle he might want to be the little spoon. Most often he’s the big spoon when J’s not around. Pat and I get tangled up in each other when we sleep. Sometimes he’s on top of me or vice versa. However we’re sleeping we’re always touching somehow. We don’t have the typical sleeping arrangement of big spoon/little spoon. We are a mess when we sleep in the same bed.

Dom or sub?

J: Dom. It isn’t in his blood to be anything but. He watches out for me and Pat, deeming that since we’re both significantly younger than him that we need care and protection. Our sex life is much the same - J is dominant. J is also the more…sexually driven of the two.

Pat: Pat is a switch. He’s a sub for J and a dom for me. He’s hotheaded and gets under J’s skin, but J will not relinquish control. It took Pat a while to accept that he would be J’s sub and we are still working on it heavily, even now that they are close. He isn’t completely comfortable doing everything (J is fine with that) and so they’re still taking it very slowly. It took Pat a long time to even let J get close to him in the bed while we’re sleeping. Pat sticks to me a lot more than he does with J. Their personalities clash somewhat and Pat still wants to get to know me better without J getting in the way. We’re working on teaching J the definition of sharing. Pat and I have only been intimate a few times and we cherish those times. 

What are their kisses like?

J: long, intense, fiercely passionate, burning, hot-blooded, daring, bruising, boundary-breaking (sometimes; J gets really carried away). He likes to cup my cheeks in his hands when he kisses me hard. I like to think he enjoys my soft skin, almost like he’s comparing the softness to his rough and mangled flesh. There’s no malice or jealousy to be had; J likes his scars because I like them and he is never apologetic for who he is. Fire courses through my veins when we’re kissing - J’s lips make me forget my own name.

Pat: voluptuous, sensual, shameless, delicate, universal, intimate, lingering, and sometimes tentative. Pat’s kisses are all-consuming and turn my brain to mush. His lips are soft and inviting and are where I always lose myself. He isn’t as experienced with physical affection or sensual intimacy like J and I, so he sometimes kisses with an innocence about him, but his kisses are fierce and forceful because of how much love there is to be had. It’s new and refreshing; He is never overbearing or comes on too strong (even though he kisses so hard sometimes). Fireworks go off in my heart every time our lips meet.

What do they smell like?

J: aside from gasoline, greasepaint, gunpowder and sweat, he smells like sandalwood, black coffee, flames, burnt embers, smoke and (sometimes) rainwater.

Pat: Cinnamon and cinnamon buns (one of his favorite snacks), spicy cologne, apples & his breath smells (and tastes) like peppermint.

What are their hugs like?

J: J’s hugs are strong, bear-like but affectionate, protective and resilient. Sometimes they’re stiff but still heartfelt in a way only J is capable of. J’s type of hugs keep me in the here and now. Whenever he hugs me I can be nowhere else but in the moment, grounded, holding onto him for dear love.

Pat: Pat’s hugs are tight, warm like the sun on a cool spring morning, they’re sometimes spontaneous and end in a gentle wrestling session and other times they’re adamant of love and of care. His hugs are just as protective and convey safety and comfort as much as J’s do. When Pat hugs me it is like the personification of a cloud: snuggly, soft, cushiony; love unfurls in my chest every time his arms come around me.

Who is more protective?

J. He takes the liberty of protecting Pat, William and I even though we’d obviously do the same for him. He doesn’t like to hear that though. We’re all younger than he is, as I said before, so he feels like it’s his obligation since we’re all in a committed relationship. He is the protector. However, now that William has come along, he is insistent that he can protect himself and he helps J defend and protect, whenever he can (this is what the two argue about the most.) 

Interested in children?

J: nope.

Pat: I think he might be if we were much older, but at the time, no. Him and J are both aware that I do not want children and are more than fine with it.

Who needs the most TLC when sick?

J: J throws things at us if we try to get too close when he’s sick. He’s a baby and needs care but doesn’t know how to ask for it. He will do everything he can to push us away so that we won’t stick around and help him through his sickness.

Pat: Pat is like me - he’s a big baby when he’s sick, though he feels extremely guilty asking for anything. He mainly wants someone to stay with him so that he isn’t lonely. He won’t ask for food or water or someone to lean on because he’s too weak to get around by himself, so I have to insist or bring him what he needs without him telling me to. I’m very much the same way. I have to have someone with me when I’m sick or else I get very lonely and upset (I am not afraid to admit that - last year I was so lonely when I was sick that it still bothers me. I’m so glad I had J to keep me company).

Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Me. J doesn’t ever say it with words, but actions speak louder than words anyway. I’d much rather someone do something to prove their love than just tell me. I had an experience where an old love told me constantly that they loved me. They just repeated over and over ‘I love you’ and I got so numb to the phrase by hearing it and saying it back that it stopped meaning anything to me. I love that J isn’t afraid to love me or admit it; I love that he finds ways to show me his love rather than tell me about it.

Pat and I say ‘I love you’ a lot but it always means something to me because of the tone of his voice when he says it. He likes to say it because it encompasses everything we feel for each other. It means more to me because he usually follows it with a kiss or a hand squeeze or something like that to emphasize its truth. 

Which of you is more accident prone?

Me and Pat, hands down. Though J and I have the same perplexing issue where we will get cut or something and not feel it so we won’t notice until hours later. For some reason we don’t notice it or we don’t care enough to acknowledge it. I end up with all kinds of cuts and bruises and I also drop stuff a lot. Pat always gets hit with things or he’ll drop the bottle of shampoo on his foot in the shower and slip while trying to pick it up or something like that. Now that William is in the picture, he gets hurt about as often as Pat and I do, though he rarely flinches or even acknowledges his injuries or pain. 

Bed hog?

We are all literally the biggest bed hogs it’s a wonder none of us have ever fallen out of bed. We start out squished together in our own separate spaces, but gradually overnight we take over each other’s spots and end up on top and underneath of each other, hands in each other’s hair, legs tangled and pressed in between others, pillows thrown around haphazardly and blankets wrapped practically in knots around our bodies. God only knows why or how we always wake up like this but it’s so comforting being this close to these men.

Who loves the other the most?

We all love each other equally, even though they don’t get along all the time and they fight over my attention occasionally. We have a very strong bond, unlike anything I’ve ever had before. I connect with them and they with me. We don’t fight over who loves who more. It is mutually understood that we all care about each other and love each other the same, we just show it in different ways.

[sleekervae]

Young God [0.4]

It was early afternoon in Ventura, the muted brightness of an summer day having given away to a pale blue sky and the sun beaming down at full capacity. Nevertheless, the air was still fairly humid and Taylor fanned her face as a meagre means to ease the blistering heat biting at her skin. Her teal blue hair was tied up today, and what little makeup she had on had been melted down and quickly wiped away. And here, she thought Danny was exaggerating when he went on about the California heat.

Two days had passed and so far, aside from the brash heat, Taylor had found herself to be enjoying her brief American leg. Having close friends by her side eased some the nervous qualms she had carried, as did making many new friends in the wake of the festival. Within the few hours she spent with them, Black Veil Brides had taken Taylor into their circle as though they'd known her for years; laughing, joking around, and drinking, yes. But overall, Taylor had quickly grown fond of spending much of her time with Andy -- which hadn't gone unnoticed by Danny and Ben.

With a quick crack of the knuckles, Taylor plucked at the strings of her guitar in preparation for her next tent show. They certainly weren't her favourite gig to play, yet to her surprise, Taylor had found that she had gathered a small following in the crowds she sang to; quickly accumulating with every show.

The grass beneath her pricked at her bare legs and the heat made it difficult for her to persist with her practice. Despite that, her face lifted when she saw him out of the corner of her eye, and she smiled when Andy sat down beside her, placing the cool water bottle down and relaxing into the warm field.

"One water bottle, as per request," he said, then reached into his vest pocket again, "And one granola bar -- because food," he still wore that cocky grin, eyes twinkling like a mischievous child.

"My knight in shining armour," she spoke with a withered exasperation and quickly took the water bottle, "How much do I owe you?" she asked before taking a sip.

"Don't worry about it," he shrugged.

Taylor glowered at him as she swallowed, "Come on, Andy. Don't be ridiculous,"

"Taylor, it's a water bottle and a shitty granola bar. Hardly put a dent in my wallet," he said, "And don't argue with a cripple,"

"My bad," she chuckled and took the granola bar between her fingers, struggling to pull apart the foil, "How are your ribs, by the way?"

Andy shifted again at the mention, "Can hardly feel 'em now," he said, "Just watch: by the end of the month I'll be right as rain again,"

Taylor refrained from scowling despite the willful foil and adhesive, "Are those your doctor's words or you trying to put me at ease?" she rebutted.

"Perhaps a bit of both," he smirked, taking the granola bar from her and with a quick pull, the foil tore open. Taylor glowered then as he handed it back to her.

"... Showoff," she took the first bite of the sticky, chocolatey goodness before offering the bar his way. He took a bite and commented on how it was simply just a glorified chocolate bar for children. He chewed thoughtfully, watching her for longer than necessary; her long lashes grazing her cheeks, her nude pink lipstick leaving a slight imprint on the foil top and she blinked back at him, shrugging at his remark before taking another bite.

"Aren't you hot like that?" she asked then, pointing to his long, thick black hair.

Andy scratched his jaw with his finger nonchalantly and gave a small shrug, his lips pouty, "Haven't really noticed,"

"Ya' haven't really noticed?" Taylor mocked back in disbelief, "Mate, I'm hot just looking at ya!"

His face flushed then at her nickname, that and the way the twang in her Northern accent held a slight squeak to her outburst, "Honestly, I'm fine," he assured her, "Live in Los Angeles long enough, you get used to it,"

"Ugh, Americans," she joked, lying back and enveloping herself fully in the sun's rays, "Whatcha' doing after your show today?"

Andy bit down on the inside of his lip, "What do you wanna' do?" he replied. Taylor raised her eyebrows, unable to help but admire the strip of sunlight that fell over his face.

"I don't know. The beach, perhaps?" she replied, "Could use a good cooling off,"

He tried not to let his smile grow at that the insinuating thoughts in his head, instead he chuckled, "Taylor, do I look like somebody who goes to the beach?"

Taylor simply shook her head, "You look more like the monster that crawled out of the water to scare the horny teenagers off,"

" -- I won't argue with you there," Andy chuckled back, "But for you, I might entertain the idea of going to the beach,"

"For the prospect of seeing me in a me swimmers, I'd wager," she teased.

"Well," he nodded truthfully, trying not to let his smirk falter, "I wouldn't mind, personally,"

She laughed as she looked back at him, brown eyes bright and shining, "Got ya' figured out, Andy,"

He'd been trying not to lose himself in her too often, had purposely ignored the splash of colour of the thin feathers tied into her teal bun, the way the freckles he'd previously tried to count and memorize the pattern of were highlighted in the sun, had willed himself to focus on the conversation each time her lips had wrapped around the bottle of her water but now he couldn't not notice it all, admired her up close, fantasized about the mere idea of his hands being where she currently had them sitting atop her stomach, then bit the inside of his cheek at how lewd his thoughts were.

"That you do, Taylor," Andy drawled, his voice deeper than it had been before, laced with awe.

Taylor's eyes travelled up the gallery of tattoos that littered his arms. His body was close to hers and it radiated heat, he must have been sweaty with all that hair but she couldn't tell, could smell his cologne instead, the linger of cigarette smoke she'd inhaled before.

"Shall we go, then?" she asked, slowly sitting up, "You have another show and I have another tent to play,"

"I say fuck it," he shrugged back, lowering his face slightly to hers, desperate to win her over, "Let's just stay here for the rest of the day. Watch the clouds, eat glorified chocolate bars and that bullshit,"

Taylor smiled, her cheeks straining from how much his happiness was rubbing off on her.  Her heartbeat had sped up a little and she quickly blamed it on the lack of food since breakfast and the morbid heat, but there was something about his presence that still enthralled her too. She wanted nothing more than to hear him talk about everything and anything for hours, found herself so connected to his mind and the way he worked, couldn't wait to watch him perform again, especially now she'd done a little revision on his music. Her gaze locked on his fearlessly, she raised her chin.

"As enticing as that sounds, our agents will have our heads on spits if we ditch," she said.

Andy shrugged and wet his lips, "Do you often do what you're told?" he asked.

A smirk spread over her pearly pink lips and she leaned in closer, "Only when it suits me," she replied softly.

Despite all the control he'd fought for, the arrogance and air of nonchalance he was desperate to exude, his face lit up; he couldn't help it.

"I'll keep that in mind," he grinned back, untangling his long legs from their pretzel to get to his feet, "You coming then?"

Taylor only extended out her arms, a silent asking for him to take her hands and yank her to feet in one deft swoop. She squeaked at the sudden force and nearly tripped into him, falling straight into his chest. Andy held her steady and couldn't help his bemused giggle.

"You alright?" he asked, his left eyebrow arching in query. Taylor couldn't decide if it was nerves that had prompted the action, or if he was trying to keep up his act, but either way, he looked effortlessly cool doing it.

"Absolutely," she nodded and pulled herself away.

She stuffed her things back into her tote bag and picked up her guitar. After arguing back and forth with himself, Andy nervously threw his arm around her shoulders to bring her to his side as they began to walk. Taylor's eyes were wide with shock for a moment.

"Is it alright if I do this?" he asked, holding his breath for her reaction.

Taylor smiled back in kind, "Yeah," she settled into him with ease, didn't feel uncomfortable with his immediate closeness, his friendliness and need to make her feel comfortable reassuring her that he wasn't trying to put anything on her.

His thumb smoothed down her arm an inch or two as he kept her locked there, her skin smooth and silky but he tensed his jaw to stop himself from going any further, would hate to make her feel uneasy or to do something to scare her off.

"I like those feathers," he drawled, pocketing at his tight jeans for a smoke.

"Thanks," she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "You know, Ben and Danny would probably have a fit if they saw us together like this,"

"How do you mean? Like -- jealousy?" he mumbled, popping the cigarette between his lips with his free hand, "Personally, I don't blame 'em for it. I got one of the hottest girls at Warped Tour on my arm today," he smirked with a cocky bravado.

"I don't mean like that..." she laughed back, nudging his ribs with her elbow gently, watching the smoke bob from where it was placed between his lips, "In a more brotherly protective manner, so to speak,"

"So, you've known them long?" he asked.

"Meh. Since I was about nineteen," she sighed, "Being young and reckless, trying to stay outta' trouble and shit. They've gotten me out of a few jams in the past,"

"Care to elaborate?" Andy asked, now pocketing around for his lighter.

Taylor shook her head, "Nah, not really," she replied with a nervous giggle, "S'pose I'm just grateful to having them look out for me,"

"Well, I'm very grateful that they introduced me to you," he said, biting the inside of his cheek at his own cheekiness as he brought the smoke away from his mouth to light it.

"As am I," before Andy could barely take the first puff, Taylor snatched the cigarette from his lips for herself.

"Naughty girl," he teased, to which Taylor giggled merrily and handed the bud back to him after her exhale, "I didn't like that, but I respect it,"

A few feet in front of them sat a newer indie rock band; three young hipsters with shaggy hair, baggy muscle tees, and leather woven jewelry. The lead singer noticed Andy and Taylor coming their way and turning his nose up at their loud, eccentric visage. Taylor wasn't so bad on the eyes, with a bit of cleaning up and she'd probably be one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever laid eyes on. Andy's appearance however puzzled him greatly; didn't this taller kid know that hair metal was out of trend?

The singer, with beady green eyes, glowered as the couple passed him by -- his bandmates hardly took notice until their singer suddenly shouted.

"Hey dude!" he called to Andy, "The 80s called, they want their hair back!"

Andy and Taylor stopped short at the whiny voice. Taylor then noted how Andy's face had twisted from pleasant delight to that of simmering irritation. She found that suddenly unsettling to her. He turned slowly to the hipster, cigarette still brandished between his lips with a glare that was sure to kill if looks only could.

"You talking to me, kid?" Andy asked the hipster.

The hipster shrugged without care, much to the chagrin of his bandmates who tried to tell him to shut up, "I sure as shit wasn't talking to her," he spat back, nodding in Taylor's direction.

Andy tore the cigarette away in a deft swipe, stepping over to give this little shit a piece of his mind. Taylor however quickly placed her hand over his chest, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

"Just leave him alone," she murmured to him, "He's looking for a fight is all, and he ain't gonna' get it out of you,"

As if by a sudden wave of magic, Andy's boiling rage simmered down to barely lukewarm. As much as it pained him to admit it, Taylor's words had some truth to them. He could see it in the way this little hipster bitch was smirking at him, just goading him into throwing the first punch. But when he looked down, he was met with Taylor's dark, pleading eyes. He didn't want to let her down. So, Andy inhaled deeply and stood back, taking the high road and placing the cigarette back in his mouth.

"Let's get out of here,"

Taylor, flush was relief, scowled at the twenty-something-year-old boy with disinterest. She instead took Andy's hand in her own and sneered at the hipster before walking away, "Twat!"

The air was much cooler in Asking's bus thanks to this ingenious invention called air conditioning. In turn, Taylor and Maxeen had let their hair down as they sat cloistered together on the floor of the bunk cave. With two bottles of beer before them, Taylor kept as still as possible as Maxeen applied the fresh coat of raspberry pink nail polish to her fingernails while Maxeen waited for her own toe polish to dry.

In the common area, they could hear the faint, muffled commotion of the Asking boys as they battled each other on the video game consoles, swearing and shouting every few seconds it seemed. Taylor's mind was preoccupied, Maxeen could tell from the lack of response she gave when she tried to initiate conversation.

"What's on your mind?" she asked. Taylor flickered her eyes up to meet her friend's, but she shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nothing much," she replied, "Why?"

"You just seem to be somewhere else," Maxeen said, "Were you alright after the gig?"

"Well enough, I suppose," Taylor said.

Maxeen dipped the polish brush back into the jar before she started on the other hand, "Sad we only got four days left?"

Taylor's chest rippled with apprehension, the sullen reminder that her time here was short was nearly enough to send her into a funk. She had enjoyed the time she'd gotten to spend with Danny and Ben, and Andy of course. The time she'd spent with Andy made her feel as though she'd known him for years, forming a bond she hadn't experienced in quite some time. She had told herself over and over not to become too attached to this boy, but like many things in her life that plan too went awry.

"Yeah. Back to the bleak fucking cold," she sighed.

"It's not cold right now back home," Maxeen pointed out, "It's July,"

"I'm aware," Taylor said, "I think it's just like -- you get a small taste for what you could have here but you don't have enough time to really enjoy it,"

Maxeen stopped mid paint-stroke, quirking her head at the mysterious notion Taylor was grappling at, "Whatcha' on about?"

Taylor quickly shook her head, figuring Maxeen would think her ridiculous if she was honest, "Nothing," she mumbled.

Maxeen pursed her lips as she finished the last coat, eyeing Taylor cautiously as though she expected to burst out into tears. Despite not having known Danny, Ben, and the others for as long as Taylor had, Maxeen could very well understand how sad she would be for leaving at the end of the week. However, she could sense from the aversion of Taylor's big brown eyes that she was miffed about something more than just having to leave her friends behind.

"You've been hanging around a lot with that goth-looking guy, eh?" she said, carefully gauging Taylor's next moves. The young rockstar only met her gaze for a brief moment with a nod, "What was his name... Andrew?"

"Andy," Taylor said in wallow.

"Yeah, that's right," Maxeen nodded, "Seems like a nice chap -- could do with a fucking hair cut, though,"

Taylor shrugged again, the tangy smell of nail polish slowly infiltrating her nostrils and making her scrunch, "I think it's alright, actually," she admitted, "It's more his face I notice. Underneath all that paint he's quite handsome,"

"Oh, I'm sure," Maxeen chided back, quirking her head as she tried to read off her friend, "Do you like him, then?"

"Oh course," Taylor nodded, "Him and his mates have been lovely,"

"Okay, but do you fancy him?" Maxeen asked again, "Like... in the same way you felt for Spencer?"

Taylor's ears burned at the sudden mention of her old flame. Thinking back now, that relationship felt like an entire life time ago, a distant memory that she didn't care to hold on to in that it kept her from evolving in her personal life. This however left Taylor with the question of whether or not she was ready to move on.

"It's been three fucking days, I couldn't tell you that, Max," she replied, "Besides, even if I did -- and I'm not saying I do -- but if I did, who's to say it would work anyway? I live on another bloody continent!"

Maxeen shrugged, "Well, that is to say if you did fancy him, I reckon you wouldn't give two shits about long distance. There are lots of couples out there separated, but they make it work,"

Taylor picked up her half-empty beer bottle, "You trying to talk me into a relationship that don't exist?" she took a quick swig and set it back on the carpeted floor.

"All I'm trying to say is if the opportunity presents itself, try it out," Maxeen replied, "So we leave in four days. How much you want to bet you'll be kicking yourself if you never saw him again and didn't at least entertain the possibility of what could've been? And besides, out of all the freaks and nerds we've met on this tour, Andy certainly wouldn't be the worst one to shag,"

A faint blush creeped over Taylor's face as she smiled, shaking her head at Maxeen's snide comment. That being said, the more she thought about it, the deeper Taylor's racing mind sunk into the gutter. Her face went redder and she snickered to herself.

Maxeen's own face meanwhile lit up, fascinated and excited by Taylor's meek and sly response. She shuffled in closer and leaned in to whisper, "Are you actually thinking about...?"

Taylor's nodding and anxious giggling gave her away in an instant, "I wouldn't mind, personally," she  murmured, blushing like a nun outside of a fetish shop.  

Maxeen's newfound glee reached a new height of mania. From the diabolical glint in her eyes, Taylor could tell in an instant that she was up to no good. And she was right. In an instant, Maxeen scrambled to her feet with a sadistic grin and started shouting, "Fuck me! Danny!"

Taylor was overcome with sudden horror, "Oh, god! Whatcha' think you're doing?" and she was then in hot pursuit.

Danny was currently caught up in a cut-throat game of Mario Kart with James. With some fancy thumb work, Danny desperately urged the Wario avatar to pass into first, however James' Toad proved to be a worthy opponent as the carts were now grill-and-grill in an effort to hit the checkered finish line.

"Danny! Ben!" At the sudden call of his name though, Danny lost his train of thought for a millisecond before Wario had veered off the track and had plummeted into the lava pit below. Toad meanwhile finished with a first-place victory.

"What the fuck?" Ben and Cameron turned towards the commotion in question.

Maxeen emerged from the bunk cave, eager to spill her gossip, "Boys! Taylor wants to shag -- oh!" but she stopped short, realizing that it wasn't just the Asking boys wasting their night in front of the tele.

When Taylor grabbed hold of Maxeen, she felt herself go a deep shade of red. Andy, Ashley, and Jake had come along for the digital race, they and everybody else taken aback and amused at Maxeen's outburst. Oh, for fuck sakes...

James however started snickering as he set down his controller, eager to hear this play out, "Who does Taylor want to shag, Max?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at the blue-haired beauty. Taylor slapped her hand over Maxeen's mouth before she could say anything incriminating.

"Your ma!" Taylor snapped, "Don't mind her, she's just drunk. Carry on, then!" and she yanked Maxeen back into the bunk, scowling at the echoing howls of Ben, Danny, and the others pissing themselves with laughter.

When the girls had disappeared and the hysteria died down, Andy took a thoughtful swig of his own beer; while Danny demanded a rematch from James on account of unforeseen distractions. A cocky smile had come over Andy, just still able to makeup the silhouette of the girls in the dark shadows -- with Taylor no doubt reprimanding Maxeen for being so out of line.

"NO! AYE!" Andy suddenly sat upright in his bunk, not yet awake enough to sense his smaller enclosure and he smashed his head into the rock-hard ceiling.

"Motherfuck!" he groaned, holding his now-throbbing head. His bandmates were now awake as well, all thanks to their lighting technician who just so happened to have the bunk over Andy. The poor fellow had night terrors, and the band was sympathetic to the matter -- just not at five in the morning.

"Fucking -- Richard!" Jinxx pulled back the curtain of his own bunk and hurled his pillow into Richard's, promptly waking him. The older man snorted and grumbled before coming to, realizing what had happened and groaned to himself.

"Sorry," he called. Andy whimpered and slowly rolled out of the bunk, continuing to clutch his head. He had hoped that because his hair was so thick that it would've absorbed some of the impact, then he felt stupid for thinking such a thing. CC then poked his head out of the bunk, and when he registered what had happened he started to laugh to himself. The hungover side of him found the situation hilarious, the sober part of him found it sad, however.

"You okay, Andy?" John, their tour manager, had peaked out from his own quarters at the sudden commotion.

Andy didn't raise his head, instead he held up his hand in the A-OK sign. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, hoping to ease some of the pounding in his head. The reverberations of the bus' engine certainly weren't helping him.

"Are we there yet?" he called to their driver, Collin.

"Forty-five minutes!" Collin called back.

"Take an ice bag for that," John instructed, "Last thing we need is to take you back to the hospital for a cracked skull,"

Andy grimaced at the notion of going back to the hospital again. He staggered to his feet and grabbed his phone, using the light to guide him as wandered through the blacked-out bus and went for the cupboard that held the first-aid kit. He grabbed the plastic bag out of the red box and slammed it down against the countertop several times, trying to illicit a chill from the chemicals inside. When it was cold enough for his liking, he pressed the bag to his forehead and slumped down onto the couch.

He sat in the silence on his own, basking in vibrations of the bus engine. It compounded against his headache but Andy found the sound soothing nonetheless. The throbbing seemed to extend from his head down to his ribs, reminding him of another literal pain that he'd foolishly caused to himself. Knowing how Richard was with his sleep terrors, he pondered whether he and the other boys should get their bunks lined with some padding to avoid situations such at this.

From beside him, Andy's phone suddenly buzzed. It hurt to turn his neck, but he glanced down and squinted at the blue light coming off the screen. The scowl on his face however eased into a smile when he saw Taylor's text message.

Hello from the bus ten meters behind you.

Andy glanced at the time, confirming that Taylor was indeed up earlier than she needed to be as he texted back.

Ello, dahling. What are you doing up?

You're mocking my accent over text now?

I'm not mocking, I'm impersonating

... that's kind of stupid now that I'm thinking about it

Lol, it's cool. I just can't sleep, James is snoring and I have bad jet lag :(

Well, shit.

You think that's bad? Our lighting guy woke me up with his night terrors. I hit my head.

You poor kid! You ok?

Eh, I've had worse. I'll survive

Did you like the show yesterday?

You already asked me.

You just said it was fun. Any analytical criticisms??

I liked the band and the music was really good! Not quite sold on the frontman tho

Well, I thought he was pretty fucking charming.

I think you should give him a chance.

He's a bit of a poser, don't you think? All that body paint and his piercings...

I think you secretly find him really hot. ;)

Well, with all that hair on his head he reminded me of a goth cousin It.

That hurts me right in my core, Taylor

Whops, my thumb slipped :P

Andy couldn't remember the last time he had smiled as much as he did that morning. He stared at that little emoticon with endearment, the ache in his head and ribs quickly forgotten as the three little dots appeared under the message, and he waited patiently. In his head he could hear the ring of her accent speaking the words she'd written, could still hear her laugh tinkling in his ears.

Seriously though, I think I've had more fun with you the past three days then I have all year. You turned me on to glam metal

His heart thundered in his chest as he read over the words. He didn't think it was possible but his smile seemed to get wider. He'd promise himself not to flirt with her but fuck, she made it really hard. Especially with that English humor of hers. It wasn't as though she wasn't guilty on her part.

Darling, you just made my fucking day

Asking Alexandria's bus wasn't far behind from Black Veil. Within the confines of her bunk Taylor felt as though a candle had been lit was slowly glowing brighter and brighter within her chest. Her rapport with Andy was different from her past relations with men, different to what she had with Danny and Ben.

He was sweet and flirtatious, as well as playfully narcissistic in a way that boosted his own ego despite making Taylor laugh at him. And those eyes of his -- she could picture those beautiful eyes staring at her own text message, probably with a hint of irritation as his head ached. Those eyes could stare into her soul, find out her deepest vices and yet she'd welcome him fully.

[iheartsunset]

Nick is also a fun character, I would enjoy some HCs for him

Papa Louie Nick HCs

(I’m so sorry I forgot about this ask I didn’t mean to i just have way too many tests going on that I keep failing, and I’ll try to do these on time from now on)

-Nick Banks (haha get it like river bank hahaha i hate my sense of humor) is an 18 year old boy who’s fresh out of high school and currently wondering what to do with his life. He works from home as a multimedia translator (like fit foreign language shows and books and comics and stuff) and a language tutor for CommYouNicate, though he is currently unsatisfied with both of these jobs. He’s also a rafting champion and plans to make it his full time job, although his multiple health problems often hinder his outside performances. He lives with his overprotective parents in a riverside Tacodale cottage.

-Nick has asthma and a congenital heart disease that made him easier to exhaust the other kids. His family grew extremely overprotective and doting of him while his peers ostracized him or mocked him for this. Other kids used to exploit this and often physically bullied him, making Nick so jumpy that he became clumsy. Nick doesn’t let any of this get him down, as he’s completely determined to prove everyone wrong and succeed despite his health problems, which he has done with his many rafting awards.

-He once made a wattpad account and was immediately recommended “Bought By the Romano Family Quartet (Carlo Romano x reader)”. He immediately deleted the app and never went back. Yeah I got this from one of @ccwastaken ‘s asks and I can’t stop thinking about it even though it was so long ago

-Nick is very shy and bashful, yet he jokes around a lot and often laments on how much other people suck. Like imagine you’re in the among us dead player chat and you’re all talking about everyone still alive is so stupid for not realizing who the imposter is. That’s him. Although he always says it really quietly or in another language so that nobody beats his ass. Even though he’s shy, he still has a lot of confidence in himself and uses this for rafting. Around Koilee, he becomes a blushing mumbling mess though, and someone else always steps in to order for him during these times.

-This dude speaks so many languages and dialects, it’s insane. English, Spanish, French, Swahili, Japanese, Tagalog, Mandarin, you name it he probably speaks it. Since he spends lots of his time indoors, he watches shows from other countries and reads foreign books that allow him to learn other languages. Other than rafting, it’s his favorite hobby, but now that does it for a job, it’s a lot less fun.

-He net Mitch when they were kids at a summer camp, where the latter defended him from bullies. Now they’re both best friends and are almost always seen together. Nick likes to raft with Mitch to the Tacomia (but he hates enduring Maggie scolding them for using a dang boat to get to work). Nick also helps teach Tohru Japanese, Prudence German, and Nevada Chinese, along with many other Flipline residents. He’s good friends with all of his clients, but he’s closest to Mitch and Wally.

-He has 7 pet goldfishes named Number One, Number Two, Number Three, Number Four, Number Five, Number Six, and Number Seven. He talks to them all the time and keeps many pictures of them in his phone.

-He will cry in movies or documentaries where animals die. Like he despises Old Yeller with all of his being and refuses to even look at Marley and Me.

-He has a huge and obvious crush on Koilee. This stemmed from him deciding to accompany Mitch and Wally to Sakura Bay one day for fishing near the Pacific coast. He had somehow tripped off the boat and into the ocean without his life vest, and was drowning despite still being pretty close to the shore, so Koilee swam to save him. This, combined with his suspicion of her being a mermaid are the main reasons for his crush, although she always mistakes him for a child and is oblivious to his feelings. Carlo Romano hates hanging out near Tacodale and Mitch and Wally because Nick is always there and will awkwardly try to confess his love to Koilee all the time, despite he and Koilee obviously being a thing and Koilee definitely not being into him.

-He likes visiting interactive science museums since he enjoys conducting experiments and playing with the displays and activities. He hates art museums, though, because he hates analyzing anything and he just wants to look at the pretty art work without Brody hanging around him for some reason while being the art snob he is.

-He got into rafting after meeting Deano on his childhood trip to Portallini. Deano encourages him to take up boating as an outlet and mentored him. Deano also taught him Italian, which helped spark an interest in languages.

-He owns many different colored safety vests and life boat vests. He even has some decorated for fancy events and parties. His buddy Trishna thinks it could be a very good fashion trend, but Nick doesn’t think so, as he just wants them for safety.

-His favorite supernatural creatures are sirens and mermaids, stemming from The Little Mermaid.

-Sorry I don’t have too many quality hcs about my dear sweet boy, but I still love him with 1/4 of my heart cause the rest is reserved for Taylor and Wally

[ofclaires]

⌠ MAYA HAWKE, 21, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CLAIRE WALSH! according to their records, they’re a FOURTH year, specializing in THREAT ELIMINATION; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (chipped black nail polish, a leather jacket with boxing gloves slung over the shoulder, bandaged knuckles, and a wicked smirk). when it’s the (aries)’s birthday on 3/31/99, they always request MAC & CHEESE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati 22, she/her, est ⍀

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION.

Rosa Diaz - Brooklyn 99

Kat Stratford - 10 Things I Hate About You

Faith Lehane - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Mandy Milkovich - Shameless

Akane Owari – Danganronpa

Arya Stark – Game of Thrones

Kim Kelly – Freaks and Geeks

Kyo Sohma – Fruits Basket

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO.

pre-gallagher.

her parents were young as hell when they had her so she was raised by her grandma in her earlier years ! claire gets a lot of her values from her grandma, mainly her biting sarcasm and devil-may-care sort of attitude. she tells claire stories of her grandfather, who was a champion boxer and it ignites claire’s interest in the sport from a young age. she grows up without a tv and plays outside a lot.  

her grandma dies when claire’s about eight years old and she goes to live with her mom, who spends the money from the will about as fast as it lands in her pocket. her mom dates a lot of unsavory dudes. 

she and her mom actually grow quite close over the years, but a lot of times it’s claire taking care of her mom and not the other way around. the entrance to their trailer is like a revolving door for shady dudes and her mother drinks too much and sort of acts like an overgrown teenager, never ready to let go of her youth. claire learns a lot of responsibility and independence as a result of this. 

her mom finally lands a dude that seems like a genuinely nice guy that makes her want to settle down and become a housewife. claire likes seeing her mom starting to act like an adult, and their lives start to turn around. he’s rich and they wind up moving in with him after the wedding, but things change shortly after, and he reveals a darker, more manipulative and abusive side of himself. 

he takes claire out of her passion, boxing, because it’s not ladylike enough, and he starts talking to claire’s mom about boarding school. it’s then that he starts fighting your mom more physically as they disagree.

the climax of the drama is when he hits claire ( she’s sneaking around and still boxing ) , but claire knows how to hit back hard. claire’s mom gets caught in the fray, it’s a huge fight, and claire nearly kills the guy ( tbi for sure. ) 

as a result of the incident, claire is recruited to a spy prep school in new york at age 16, her sophomore of high school. claire’s angry and closed off, and has a difficult time making friends in high school. but she does go through a lot of anger management and such. 

gallagher academy.

YEAR ONE: claire gets adjusted to school at gallagher academy, determined to prove herself among some of the world’s best. she quickly gains a reputation for her prowess in combat and spends long hours in the gym training. she slowly starts to open herself up to the idea of making friends. 

YEAR TWO: even though claire’s made friends, she still keeps secrets about her past, keeping her guard up. she receives letters from her mom about a new guy she’s seeing, and an invitation to her mother’s wedding. she ignores it. she and her mom still haven’t spoken since she was sixteen. near the end of the year, she gets a postcard that her mom is moving to iceland, but she does nothing about it. 

YEAR THREE: ( where our story started ) 

boys come to campus and claire feels like she has to fight harder for her reputation as THE BEST, isn’t pleased with their presence due to a longstanding distrust when it comes to men. 

claire’s ego is boosted after she’s been chosen for a MISSION, to explore the abandoned boys’ school, blackthorne academy. there, she and mary sakamoto discover that it was a school for assassins. explains why claire keeps getting her ass kicked – these boys have been trained to kill. 

witness protection kids come to campus, resulting in the death of one of them and gallagher student, amelia taylor. claire feels helpless as a result, always thinking of herself as a protector and gallagher has always been her stronghold, her safe place, and it all feels threatened. 

claire has a falling out with a friend and feels super alone with all this shit going on and winds out reaching out to her mom. i wrote a self-para here, but her mom invites her to come stay for the summer. 

when a brotherhood member is discovered on campus, she teams up with a group of...unlikely allies, and sneaks into the sublevels to kick his ass. his current status is unknown, and he’s quite possibly dead. either way, as far as she knows, they were never caught. 

claire visits her mom in iceland for the summer (details here) and they sort of mend things. she meets her moms new husband and actually likes him. 

PERSONALITY.

DETERMINED – when claire sets her mind to something, she will stop at nothing to accomplish it. she’d probably even risk death to accomplish her goals, she simply can’t accept failure.

HARD-WORKING – claire can pretty much always be found in the gym, trying to make herself better. it’s honestly a running joke how often claire is working out, but there’s a basis in it. honestly, claire thinks her only value is her muscle, so if that’s what she’s good at, she’s going to be the best. she’s that kid in your gym class that’s going way too hard for no fucking reason like calm down. 

BRAVE – there’s little that claire fears, and even her fears don’t generally stop her from accomplishing her goals. you could chalk up some of her bravery to determination, but she’s been through enough that she doesn’t really stop to consider what she’s going to lose. so maybe it’s also stupidity!

LOYAL – it’s really challenging for claire to form connections, but when she does, she latches on. when she cares for someone, she really cares for them, and she’s pretty ride or die. this sort of loyalty can be a burden for some of her friends, because she can be somewhat overbearing. 

ANGRY – claire’s probably best known for her anger, it’s like she walks around with a fuse waiting to be lit at the slightest inconvenience. funnily enough, her training has made her better at controlling it, but she’s still known to snap. 

RECKLESS – claire often acts impulsively, says the first thought in her mind, does the first thing she can think to do in order to solve a problem. act first, ask questions later is usually her mantra, and sometimes it saves her ass – and sometimes it comes back to bite her in it. 

DISTANT – claire finds it hard to open up or form connections with people, not often readily sharing her feels with people. she’s really averse to personal questions but she’s gotten better about sharing things about herself since making more friends at gallagher. still, she’s somewhat hard to get to know. i will refer you to this musing. 

BRASH – she’s pretty cocky to a point that often comes off as rude, but the positive spin on it is that you’ll always know where you stand with claire. whether it’s good or bad, she’s up front, but most people she trains with are probably sick of her arrogance. 

HEADCANONS/RANDOM FACTS.

can usually be found exercising. she’s really into sports and fitness and prior to the berlin internship, she used to spend her summers working at summer camps for athletes-in-training. she’s a pretty good coach, and tutors some of the other students that need help with their athletic prowess, although she’s described as a bit intense.

identified as bisexual until fairly recently, realizing that she doesn’t care or have much interest in romantic relationships with men ! so, now she identifies as a lesbian. 

cannot sit through a movie to save her life, claire’s easily distracted and bored, always needing something to do. she didn’t grow up with a television set in her home either, so she hasn’t seen many movies and is a little out of touch with all things pop culture. 

takes pictures like a mom, if you ask her to take a photo of you it’ll probably a) be a little blurry, b) have her thumb in it, or c) both.

really likes podcasts! she listens to them a lot during her workouts, while she runs the track, or anything else. claire’s not exactly known for her intelligence ( among the astronomical iqs of other gallagher students at least ) but she can spout some knowledge on things you wouldn’t expect. 

generally a hard-ass but she’s a softie around animals, particularly dogs or cats, but catch her cooing and talking in a baby voice around puppies, she’s like a completely different person, pretty much. 

drink of choice is whiskey, neat. 

despite her preference for hand to hand combat, threat elimination has given her a multitude of skills. she keeps two knives on her at all times and sometimes wears a bulletproof vest for kicks. she’s prepared for anything.

[iwritethingstoo]

In The Cards

Prompt: Tarot

Character: Dark!Gambit/Remy LeBeau x OFC (Kimi), Dark!Marvel

A/N: So this is my very first attempt at an AU like this, or with Dark!characters. Written for @theliveshipparagon #PennyDreadfulChallenge It kind of turned into a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde situation. Written with inspo from the Taylor Kitsch version of Gambit

Warnings: 18+ Non-con/Dub-con, smut, Dark!Gambit, abuse, loss of virginity, violence, swearing, 

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: Two gifted individuals have a common weapon. When it comes to offense or defense, cards have more uses than just games.

9 of Cups, 9 of Wands and 10 of Pentacles: These were the cards laying on the table in front of Kimi. She was reading for the woman sitting across from her who was currently squirming nervously in her seat.

“In the past, you’ve had great success with your own choices, but now you’re worried about those around you. I suggest caution and perseverance. You will find prosperity in your endeavors.” Kimi pointed to each card in turn as she spoke. The woman sighed with relief and visibly relaxed. Kimi had the uncanny ability to read Tarot with perfect accuracy and word of her readings had spread throughout Louisiana. The woman thanked her before dropping her money on the table and leaving. Kimi slipped the bills into her pocket and walked to the door. She locked it and engaged the deadbolt. The day had been busy, but she preferred it that way as it made the time pass by quicker.

Kimi picked up her cards with the intention of storing them away for the night, but as soon as she touched them, she felt the familiar pull. The cards seemed to have a mind of their own and called for her to read. She sat down once more and shuffled. When she felt the pull again, she drew three cards and set them face up. The Hierophant, The Wheel of Fortune and The Hanged Man stared up at her. She examined the images closely for several minutes before collecting them back into the deck and packing the cards into their pouch. Kimi stood and climbed the stairs in the back of her shop. She had a small apartment on the second floor of the building. As she dressed for bed, her thoughts were centered on the last three cards. Tomorrow would be the start of an interesting journey.

The next morning, Kimi woke with the sun. She stayed in bed for several minutes trying to remember what her dream had been. She had been in a cavernous room filled with fire; she could only describe it as the pits of hell. There was a man there, somehow she knew he was the devil, but he didn’t look like the stereotypical demon of literature. He was tall with tousled, brown hair and a square jaw. He wore a long brown trench coat left open revealing black pants and a pink/red chest piece. His most striking feature was his eyes. They were red with black where the white should have been.

Kimi continued thinking about those red eyes as she finally pried herself from the warmth and comfort of her bed. She walked to the little kitchen area and began preparing breakfast. She scrambled two eggs and pan fried toast. She poured a glass of orange juice and sat down at the table to eat. Once her plate was empty, Kimi dropped her dishes in the sink. She didn’t really feel like washing them now. She would make herself do it later. She dressed herself in a simple, comfortable dress and headed downstairs to start the day. Kimi unlocked the front door, sat down and began to shuffle her tarot deck.

After only a few minutes, the bell on the door rang and a man in a wheelchair rolled up to the table.

“Kimi?” He asked. When she nodded, he reached his hand out. She took it and shook. “My name is Patrick Stewart. I am here as a representative of the X-Men.” Kimi drew a card from her deck and looked at it without showing him. The Emperor signified authority or a ‘father figure’.

“Care to try again, Chuck?” She turned the card to show him. He looked annoyed at her use of the nickname.

“I apologize.” He nodded; his face back to its neutral, friendly look. “I had to know if the rumors were true. I am Charles Xavier, head of the X-Men and founder of the Xavier Institute. I would like to invite you to our organization.”

“I’m not sure…” Kimi began, but he held up his hand for her to stop.

“You don’t have to decide now. Please, just allow me to explain what we do and give you a tour of the school.”

“I suppose a tour wouldn’t hurt anything.” She agreed. “Where is the school located?”

“New York. I have a car outside that will take us to my private jet. I can get you home by tomorrow if you choose not to stay.” He paused for a moment, giving her a quizzical look. “You haven’t taken a trip in many years. It would do you some good to get away for a night.”

“How do you know that?”

“I am a telepath. Among other things, one of my powers is the ability to read minds.”

“Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.” Kimi rolled her eyes. “In the future I suggest you either don’t read my mind or don’t answer unspoken thoughts.” She packed a travel bag with everything she would need for a couple nights. She wasn’t planning on staying, but it wouldn’t hurt to have options. Kimi grabbed her tarot deck, locked the door and headed to the car that was waiting for them. The driver took her bag and stowed it in the trunk as she and Xavier entered the backseat. The car started down the road and onto the highway.

The two sat in a silence that Kimi was thankful for. She didn’t really know what to talk to this man about. She had heard of the X-Men and even Charles Xavier, but she didn’t know what he could possibly want with her. True, she could read the cards accurately, but that wouldn’t help her in a combat situation. She would only be a hindrance to the other members. Just then, there was an explosion in front of the vehicle that made the driver swerve to the right and slam on the brakes.

“Get out now!” Xavier yelled at her. Kimi threw the door open and jumped out. Another blast caused the car to explode. She ran for the trees and felt her cards call to her. ‘Is now really the time?’ The feeling didn’t go away, so she pulled a card out of her pocket and looked at the image. The card in her hands was the Knight of Swords. ‘That can’t be good.’ This described their current enemy as cutting, unfeeling and overbearing. Then she saw him. He was walking directly towards her with a confident stride. He was tall with shoulder-length hair and a strong jaw. His smirk was smug and a little arrogant. He wore a bowler hat and trench coat over a purple shirt and black vest. Kimi felt the cards’ call again and drew another card from her pocket. It was Death. She quickly slipped both cards back with the others as he reached her.

“Mon cher.” He said it as a way of greeting in a Cajun accent. Kimi turned to run, but felt her feet leave the ground as he picked her up easily.

“Let me down.” She demanded.

“No can do, cher.” He took off running with her hanging over his shoulder. Kimi struggled against his hold and beat her fists on his back. This didn’t deter him or even make him slow down. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice. After what seemed like an hour, the man finally slowed down and spoke.

“I wouldn’t trust Xavier if I were you. He had no intention of letting you leave once you entered the institute.”

“And why would I trust you instead?”

“My plan is to set you free tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“He won’t have given up yet. He’ll send the X-Men after us. We need to find somewhere safe for tonight.” He stopped walking. “If I put you down, will you promise not to run?” Kimi thought back to the cards she had drawn since this morning, including the two she drew for this man whose name she didn’t even know.

“I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.” He set her down and she looked at his face and noticed his eyes. They were green with a hint of brown, almost but not quite hazel. “I assume you have a name.”

“My friends call me Remy; Remy LeBeau.” He smiled and bowed with a wave of his hand. “At your service.”

“I’m Kimi.” She smiled. ”You said your friends……. And what about your enemies?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she saw his eyes darken.

“Gambit.” He said gruffly. “Let’s hope you never have need of that name.” It was a moment before his eyes returned to normal. “Come cher, we need to keep moving.”

They walked in silence for quite a while before Kimi asked a question that had been on her mind.

“Xavier is a strong telepath, yet you were able to surprise him. Shouldn’t your thoughts have given you away?”

“My thoughts are not so easily read. I can tell when someone is trying and I’m able to block them out.” They emerged from the trees and Kimi saw buildings appear in the distance. As they grew closer, she smelled the aromas of several different types of food which caused her stomach to growl. It was probably about noon and she hadn’t eaten since this morning. Remy stopped and looked at her.

“I guess we should find somewhere to eat. We can’t stay here long and we need to find a place that is fairly crowded.”

“Won’t it take longer if it’s busy?”

“Yes, but the X-Men won’t hurt innocent people to get to us. They might make a scene, but that should help us get away unseen.” 

They found a cute little cafe that didn’t have a line out the door, but they could see people waiting at the register. It took twenty minutes for them to order their food and another ten before it was ready. Remy found a table at the back of the restaurant away from the front window and they sat down. Kimi picked up her sandwich and took a bite. It was ham and cheese with lettuce and tomato on a baguette.

“Remy, please tell me about yourself. It feels odd to be eating with a man whom I know nothing about.”

He finished chewing his mouthful of food and thought a moment before responding.

“I was born in New Orleans, immediately taken from the hospital and raised in a thieves' guild. My mutant powers showed up when I was a teenager.” He started eating again and Kimi realized that was all he was going to say, at least for now.

Kimi had just popped the last of her sandwich into her mouth, when she saw a commotion coming from the front of the shop. Before she could tell what was happening, Remy stood in front of her and grabbed her hand.

“We have to go now.” He pulled her to her feet and they ran for the door. A man with a weird visor was just outside the door keeping them from leaving.

“Gambit, you have to let her go.”

“The only thing I have to do, is get away from you, Cyclops.” 

Kimi saw his eyes darken as he pulled a playing card out of his trench coat’s inner pocket. The card started to glow pink and he threw it at the visored man. 

The man, Cyclops, jumped out of the way just as the card hit the ground and exploded. Remy threw several more cards and pulled Kimi into a run away from the cafe. Kimi heard the explosions behind them and saw a red laser beam hit a trash can just to the left of Remy. He took something out of his coat and with a flick of his wrist it became a six foot-long staff. He grabbed her around the waist and used the staff to vault them over a wall. On the other side was a motel building. He knelt in front of one of the doors and began to pick the lock. It only took a minute and he opened the door. Kimi walked in first and turned around to see him enter behind her.

Remy closed the motel room door and turned to Kimi. He still had the dark, Gambit look in his eyes. He took three large strides across the small room and stopped mere inches from her. She took a step back and felt the wall behind her. He stepped forward again and her heart, already beating fast from running, sped up. She was beginning to understand Remy, but the man in front of her, Gambit, was still a dangerous mystery. 

He pressed himself against her and she felt the heat of his unsteady breath on her neck. She also felt a hard presence between her legs. ‘No’, she thought to herself. ‘I’m not ready for this.’ She found herself unable to speak the words. ‘No. I don’t want this.’ Maybe if she thought it hard enough, he would understand. 

If he did, he ignored it and bit down hard on her neck. She opened her mouth to scream at the pain, but he pressed a hand to her causing the sound to be muffled. Gambit lifted his head and she saw a grin cross his lips. He took his hand away from her mouth, grabbed her hair and crashed his mouth into hers. She pushed against his chest, trying to pry him off of her, but it was like attacking a brick wall. In fact, her struggle only seemed to excite him more. He grabbed the collar of her dress and ripped it open. He pulled away from her mouth to see his handiwork. Kimi looked down at the remaining cloth covering her: lace panties and matching bra that hooked in the front. All she could do was watch as he roughly undid the bra and threw it to the floor. Then his eyes dropped to her nethers and the thin clothing there.

“No, please.” Kimi finally found her voice and she begged, but to no avail. Gambit hooked his finger into the lace and ripped the panties off. She felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks. This couldn’t be how her first time happened. She wasn’t a prude, but she wanted her first time to be with someone she cared for. She wanted it to be more than just a one night stand. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she felt his fingers enter her. She cried out: “No.” His response was to remove his fingers and slap her face leaving a wet spot on her cheek from her own juices. Then he shoved his fingers into her mouth making her taste herself. She bit down hard and he cursed loudly. He grabbed her throat with both of his hands and pressed.

“You will not do that again if you want to continue living.” He pressed tighter for emphasis, making her gasp for breath. “Do you understand?” Kimi nodded as best as she could and he let go. She gasped again trying to fill her lungs, finding it painful. Gambit reached down and unbuckled his belt. He pulled it out of the loops keeping it around his pants. She had no idea what he planned to do next, but she found out very quickly when she felt the sharp pain of the belt hitting her breast. She screamed, but her sore throat only managed a muffled sound. She tried to block the next strike with her arms. He grabbed her wrists and held them together above her head with one hand. He pelted her several more times leaving welts that covered her chest. Each strike caused another muffled scream to escape her lips and more tears to stream down her face. Kimi heard the belt hit the floor and her eyes followed his hand back to his pants. He unbuttoned and pulled the zipper down. She watched as he pushed his pants and boxers down just enough to reveal his hardness.

“No, no, no. Please. You can’t.” She begged and struggled against his hand. Gambit smiled and pressed her hands tighter to the wall.

“I can and I will.” He used his free hand to position himself and pushed into her. He groaned and without giving her a chance to adjust to him, he began thrusting deep inside her. She cried as she accepted her fate. There was nothing she could do to stop this man. She let her body go limp in defeat. He held her up and continued his motions, but she could tell this frustrated him. 

He pulled out of her, grabbed her painfully by the waist and threw her onto the bed. She landed with her face in the pillow. Before she could move, she felt the now familiar sting of the belt on her back and behind. She cried into the pillow and tried to push herself up. He pushed her back down and grabbed her hands again. She felt him wrap something around her wrists tightly and pull them upwards. She raised her head and saw that he had removed his shirt and was using the sleeves to tie her to the headboard. She pulled, but he tied it too securely. 

She felt him grab her behind and lift her. He slapped her and rammed into her. She screamed into the pillow again as he took up his rhythm. Her body rocked with his movement and she tried to think of anything besides the pain of his actions. It seemed like he knew where her thoughts were and every time she got away mentally, he slapped her again and pulled her back. She felt him quiver inside of her and she had a sudden realization. He wasn’t going to stop. He planned on coming in her. She raised her head and tried to scream at him through her rough throat.

“Gambit….. please, don’t…..” He growled at her use of his name and she felt him push into her once more as he released. 

She dropped her head and cried. She didn’t move as he pulled out and she felt the bed shift with his absence. He untied her hands and she curled up. She stayed in that position and cried for several minutes before she made herself sit up. She looked around the room and saw that he was gone. 

Kimi crawled off the bed and found the tattered remains of her clothing. She reached into the pocket of her dress and removed her cards. She shuffled them and pulled one; Death. ‘No. That can’t be right.’ She shuffled the cards and drew again; Death. She stared at the card. This deck was given to her by her grandmother and it belonged to her grandmother before that. These cards had never failed her before, but she doubted them now.

She had a thought. She focused entirely on Gambit and pulled a card. It was the Knight of Swords. She shuffled the deck and drew again, this time focusing solely on Remy. Death was once again in her hand.

She stood up, set the deck on the nightstand and headed to the bathroom. She started the water in the shower and stepped in. Letting the water wash over her, she slumped to the floor and let the tears fall from her eyes again. They mixed with the water and washed down the drain. She cried until she couldn’t anymore and let the water run cold.

When she finally walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her, she was surprised to see Remy, eyes back to normal, sitting on the bed. She had only looked at him briefly and let her eyes fall to the floor. She had no idea what to expect out of him now. Would he try to apologize? Would he do it again?

“We need to leave. Get dressed.” He sounded distant and she braved another glance to find he was looking past her. She turned to see what he was looking at. There, in the open closet, was a dress. It was dingy and worn as though it had been left here, untouched, for at least a month.

“I’m not putting that on.” Kimi straightened up. “Who knows how long that thing has been sitting there.”

“Fine.” He retorted. “Go out naked. I don’t care.” He stood and headed for the door, putting his hand on the knob. 

Kimi looked to the pile of what used to be her clothes.

“Wait.” He stopped and turned back to her. She sighed and grabbed the dress. She shook it with the intention of removing any creatures that might have taken up home in the discarded fabric. What came out instead, was a rather large cloud of dust that caused her to cough. She beat it against the wall a few times until most of the dust had moved from the dress and into the air. Then she walked over to the pile on the floor. She was able to work with her bra enough to wear it and as she slipped the dress over her body, she wished she could have done the same with her panties. As long as she didn’t think too hard about it, she could imagine this was just another one of her own dresses. “I really wish I had my overnight bag, but SOMEBODY blew it up in the car.”

“I was too busy saving you from an eternal prison. Besides, I didn’t even know you had an overnight bag.”

“You were saving me? Yeah, that worked out great.” She rolled her eyes before grabbing her tarot deck and following him out the door. They walked in silence for what seemed like two hours before Remy suddenly stopped and grabbed her arm.

“You can’t run this time.” Cyclops stood in front of them.

“You think you can stop me all by yourself?” Remy shot back.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not alone this time.” He gestured around them and Kimi looked. There were men and women, X-Men, completely surrounding them. They began to close in and Kimi saw a man in a wheelchair pull up next to Cyclops. Xavier. Of course he was here. For some reason this was all about her. She put her hands up in surrender.

“Stop. You want me? Fine. Just leave Remy out of this.” Kimi looked at Remy, next to her, and saw a puzzled look.

“Why? Why would you give yourself up for me?”

“Because of this.” She pulled a card from her deck and held it up for him to see. It was Death.

“You think I’ll get you killed?” He looked hurt by his interpretation of the image.

“This card gets such a bad rap. The death card isn’t literal. It signifies the transition of one state to another. I pulled this card for you. It shows me a redemption for you.”

“Redemption for the man who treated you like that?” Xavier cut in. “After what he did to you, you really think he’s redeemable?”

“How do you know about that?” Kimi turned to him. “I wasn’t even thinking about that and I know you can’t read his mind.” She gestured to Remy. 

Sudden realization hit her. “You were close enough to hear it all in my mind and you didn’t stop it. Why? So you could turn it around? Make me trust you? You make me sick. I wouldn’t trust anyone who would knowingly let something like that happen.” She flipped him off. “Fuck you.”

Remy moved so fast Kimi hardly saw the movement. He had thrown cards at all the X-Men and pulled out his staff. He held out his arm and she grabbed him around the waist. As the cards exploded, he vaulted them over the mutants and they took off running. Kimi knew that this was just the start. She would be on the run from Xavier and the X-Men for the rest of her life, but she had one ally. She still had much to learn about him and she may never fully trust him, but she knew one thing for sure. Death was only the beginning.

[warofshadowstheorder]

Chapter 02

There was an environment of excitement and anticipation in the air as the crowds jammed into the pavilion.  This wasn’t new for the venue, with all the sporting events, concerts, and other popular events that had taken place there.  That night however, was probably the first time in American history that a political event had generated that kind of atmosphere.  But after the past several months, it was expected due to the immense popularity and appeal of the man they’d come to see.

Senator Dwight Saunders had announced his candidacy for President nearly a year ago and had been making no real progress in the nomination process.  But then suddenly, his appeal began to skyrocket amongst a variety of campaign promises, proposals, and a surge in popularity.  Almost instantly, he became the runaway favorite of his party and secured the nomination.  Every political insider was predicting him to possibly be the first man since George Washington to completely sweep the Electoral College.

Banners with his name and campaign slogan of “Everybody Wins” on them had become a common sight at homes and businesses, as bumper stickers on cars, on TV commercials, buttons, shirts, and every other possible venue.

He was the candidate for everyone regardless of sex, race, color, or creed.  He had made various proposals in the Senate and campaign promises.  Different ones satisfied different groups, resulting in him appealing to all sides of the political spectrum.  In addition, his call for returning to old-time values, while never mentioning his own personal ones, made him likeable by those who were tired of personal beliefs playing such a huge part in politics.

His charisma that had surfaced only months before, and his ever-present call for change in a climate that was demanding it had set him apart from the very beginning.  People were saying that he was a candidate everyone could support and rally behind.  The environment in the pavilion preparing for his speech was an accurate reflection.

While the campaign financers, media personnel, party officials, and spectators were filing in and taking their seats in anticipation, the Secret Service detachment was all business.  Everyone in America seemed to love Dwight Saunders, but the Secret Service had long ago learned and was now applying the valuable lesson to always be on its guard.

The agents were holding their positions.  There were capable individuals at every possible point of attack for a would-be assassin.

The agents kept personal opinions and politics personal and didn’t let them interfere with their job.  However, most of the agents, along with what at times seemed like the entire country, were planning on voting for Saunders when it came time to cast their ballots.

At the moment, the agents in the pavilion were focusing on the task at hand.  They had screened every living soul, they would have screened insects if possible, that had entered the pavilion and were now keeping watchful eyes on the crowd from a variety of strategic locations.

Bledsoe was stationed in the highest post, an employee-only accessible part of the pavilion just above the area normally reserved for announcers and sportscasters who would call sporting events.  It had been determined to be the ideal perch for a sniper attack, and it had the best overall view of what was going on down on the floor.  Due to her keen eyesight, attention to detail, and excellent marksmanship, Bledsoe was an ideal choice for that post.  

She’d spent the past few hours since radioing in to Agent Shaughnessy, pacing around, and responding to messages that would be communicated to her via the earpiece she was wearing.  She got bored easily during this part of her assignments.

She often caught herself thinking about what she would rather be doing or what she planned on doing after she got off, sightseeing was an activity that she particularly enjoyed and a hobby that her job, when she had some downtime, definitely supported. She was very good at catching herself during these moments, and would speedily redirect her attention to her mission.  She was very good at paying attention when she remembered the mission, and all that she had had to do in order to get to where she was in her career.

She redirected her attention to the gathered crowd below.  She wasn’t so high up that she couldn’t make out individual people, but her ability to focus on details of individuals was limited.  She was mainly on the lookout for suspicious movement from any of the spectators.

She paid attention to how many times someone might get out of their seat or move to get a better view of the podium.  She scrutinized everything, knowing that if anything bad were to happen that it would most likely be her head on a platter.

“Roman Candle is coming up to the entrance,” a voice echoed in the earpieces of Bledsoe and the other agents from one of the details escorting Saunders into the pavilion.

“Copy that,” Agent Taylor relayed, “everyone check in and give me a status report for your area.”

“All clear up here,” Bledsoe said, “you have a green light from where I am.”

Every other member gave a similar report, earning a “you have a green light to enter,” from Agent Taylor.

Bledsoe and the other agents involuntarily tensed up.  They all knew it would soon be time for them to be on extra guard and ready for anything.  She took another good look around the area where she was standing and walked around a little to either side of the corridor to check areas that were beyond her sight.

While she was making her checks over the small areas, she thought she heard something coming from above her.

She looked up and saw nothing but darkness, the top portion of the area where she was wasn’t equipped with overhead lights due to a lack of need for them.  She took a long look at the black abyss above her, all the while listening to more messages being said into her earpiece.

“I think I heard something up here,” Bledsoe whispered into her earpiece, “I’m going to go check it out.”

“Okay,” Taylor’s voice said over the radio, “should we evacuate Roman Candle?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Bledsoe answered, “just let me check it out first.”

One thing she’d learned from her career was to go with her gut instincts, and she did that by drawing her gun, turning on the light attached to it, and looking as close as she could over the entire area where she’d heard the noise.  She briefly considered firing a warning shot in the direction where she heard the noise, but quickly decided against it knowing that all it would accomplish was causing a panic.

After a few minutes, she’d looked over the area in question to the point where she was satisfied, and returned to her chosen vantage point to continue observing the unfolding events.

“False alarm,” Bledsoe said into her earpiece, “I checked over the entire area and didn’t see anything.”

“Okay,” Taylor said, “everybody stay sharp and we’ll get through this just fine.  But be on the lookout in case that wasn’t a false alarm.”

“Copy that,” Bledsoe answered and then returned to observing what was going on below her.

She saw the local junior senator walk up to the podium and begin to introduce the keynote speaker and his running mate.  She went back to her observations, settling into the routine of something she had done many times before but was still always new in some ways.

There was a steady flow of messages in her earpiece, and that blended in with what was flowing through her mind from her observations to the point where it all went through like a well-composed symphony.  When it would get to this point, it was almost as though time stood still and Bledsoe was in complete control of the entire world around her.

She was mindful of every message, and at the same time taking in all that she was seeing and responding in kind when specifically addressed on the earpiece.

She found that the only way she could be sharp amidst the almost mind-numbing routine of assignments like this was to embrace the routine rather than lament it.  She viewed the whole thing as a sensory experience and was known for being on the ball.  The comfort of the flow had washed over her and she could have noticed someone in the crowd lighting a cigarette.

Then, Bledsoe was certain she heard something.  It was the faintest of sounds, something that would have gone unnoticed by any ordinary person, but Bledsoe knew that it didn’t belong in her symphony.  The symphony that Bledsoe was experiencing was abruptly halted as she returned to the present and turned around.

She turned around completely, and managed to get a brief but sustained glimpse of a pair of Prussian blue eyes surrounded by black.  The next thing she knew, she felt a pinching sensation on both of her shoulder blades and blacked out.  She began to fall to the ground, but was stopped from impact by a pair of strong arms that broke her fall and carefully set her down.

The man who had knocked her out was four inches taller than she was with a trim well-muscled build and dressed in black clothing that hugged his skin.  A few seconds after he rendered Bledsoe unconscious, his clothes became a lighter shade of black than the surrounding shadows.

He only carried a small backpack and utility vest with him, and his movements were quick and silent.  After he carefully set Bledsoe down, he took off her earpiece in one fluid motion and put it in his own ear.  He then took a small digital music player with an external speaker out of a pocket on his vest and set it on the ground a short distance from where he was.

He then fluidly and silently removed his backpack and set it on the ground.  He opened it, took out a zip tie which he promptly gripped in his teeth, a rag wrapped around a roll of extra wide duct tape, and a metal eyelet. He moved to the solid brick wall just behind where he had set down Bledsoe, at the far side of the area, and placed the eyelet against it.  He held it in place, and then with one fast and strong motion shoved it into the brick with the heel of his other hand.

After tugging on the eyelet to make sure it was firmly inside the brick, he ran the zip tie through it and sat Bledsoe up straight before putting her hands behind her back and tightening the zip tie around her wrists.

He then separated the tape and rag before forcing Bledsoe’s mouth open and stuffing the rag inside.  Using his knee to keep her mouth closed, the man finished his work by unraveling his duct tape and placing it over her mouth.  He wrapped it around her head twice and tore it off.  He was grateful she wore her hair in the bun so that he could make sure the tape was on tight, and he punctuated the job by adding one smaller strip just below her nose and another whose bottom tip rested on her chin.

At about that time, a second figure a few inches taller than Bledsoe’s assailant but not quite as muscular, carrying a small duffel bag in his left hand came up by where the man was standing.  He was dressed similarly to the other man, and stopped to look at Bledsoe.

“Crikey Olcán,” the first man said in a thick and gruff Australian accent, “do you think you did a thorough enough job?”

“We can’t be taking any chances with this one Odin,” Olcán replied in a thick Irish Brogue with a serious tone, “this mission is too important.”

“Alright mate,” Odin replied, “I was just trying to lighten the mood a little.”

“There’ll be time for that,” Olcán said in the same tone he had been using, “after the mission is accomplished and we go home.  Were you seen?”

“You know,” Odin said as he set down his duffel bag and proceeded to remove a few items, “it wouldn’t kill you to take it just a little easy sometimes mate.”  Odin had taken out four parts for a high-powered sniper rifle, the butt, the center, the barrel with a silencer already attached, and the scope, and began assembling it.

“It’s like I always say,” Odin said putting the butt onto the center piece, “if you take some things too seriously, then you’ll end up taking everything too seriously.”

“Were you seen?” Olcán asked again with more emphasis, non-verbally telling Odin that his patience was wearing thin.

“Of course not,” Odin replied, “remember that a lot of the same blokes who trained you also trained me.  And besides,” Odin said confidently as he put the barrel onto the rifle, “you know I’m too good to be any less than perfect when it comes to something like this.  And I did plan this operation after all.  I’m the last person who wants to see it fail.”

“Aye,” Olcán said before looking at his watch, “that’s true.”

He took the earpiece out of his ear and held it far enough away to where he could still hear the voices from it.  He then held the speaker next to it and pressed down on the earpiece, he queued up a specific track and Alexis Bledsoe’s voice said “Nikowitz, you may want to take a look at the guy in the fourth right aisle seat, that’s the fifth time he’s felt around in his pocket.”

Odin finished assembling his rifle, then took a few bullets out of a small pocket inside his duffel bag.

“I’ll be taking the shot with a Surefire,” he said quietly, “there’s going to be a scene down there when this goes off.”

“Duly noted,” Olcán answered as he remained at Bledsoe’s vantage point listening on the earpiece, “just be sure that one shot is all you need.”

“Hey,” Odin said pretending to be hurt by the comment, “I would’ve thought that after all the times we’ve worked together you’d have a little more confidence in me than that mate.”

“Just don’t start being inconsistent,” Olcán said, “not here tonight.”

“You know you don’t have to worry about that with me,” Odin said as he loaded a single bullet into his rifle, attached the scope, then moved up next to Olcán and set up his rifle before adding in a serious tone, “I never miss a target.”

Olcán only nodded in response and kept at his task.  They both watched and listened as Saunders’ running mate finished his speech and it was met by applause.  After the applause had died down, the running mate began to speak again.

“And now ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a confident and upbeat voice, “it is my pleasure to introduce to you the next President of the United States.  Dwight Saunders!”

A thunderous applause greeted the introduction as a swarm of messages came out on the earpiece and the crowd stood on their feet.  Saunders stood up and walked to the podium, smiling and waving at the crowd the entire time.

“Look at ‘em mate,” Odin said, “it almost makes me feel guilty about what I’m going to do.”

“You’re doing them a favor,” Olcán muttered after making sure his finger wasn’t on the earpiece, “just don’t lose your focus.”  Odin nodded and took careful aim with his rifle.

At about that time, Bledsoe began regaining consciousness.  She started to open her eyes, everything was blurry.  She blinked a few times and then fully came to.  Her first thought was that she’d fallen asleep on the job, but then she remembered the eyes and what had felt like a pinch to her neck.  Her first impulse was to let the other agents know that the security of the event had been compromised, but she could tell that her earpiece wasn’t in its rightful place by the absence of the familiar feeling.

She tried to move, but found that she couldn’t.  Her next impulse was to call out for help, but she quickly found that to be a futile effort as well.  She looked forward and saw the dark silhouettes of two figures standing across from her at her vantage point with their backs to her.  She began to struggle against her bonds and try to yell through her gag, but both were useless.

Bledsoe was powerless for the first time in decades, and she hated it.  She continued to struggle, if for no other reason because she didn’t want to accept the reality of her present situation.  She struggled desperately to get free or to alert her comrades to what was occurring.  But she knew inside that she was fighting a losing battle.

Meanwhile, Olcán knew that the time had come.  He queued the player to a specific track, and then pushed the button.  Bledsoe could hear her own voice frantically speaking into her earpiece, “Evacuate Roman Candle!  Security has been breached!  I repeat!  Security has been…”

Senator Saunders could be heard graciously thanking the crowd and preparing to speak amid thunderous applause when Odin pulled the trigger.

The silencer ensured that the shot came out as a whisper.  Odin became invisible in front of Bledsoe’s eyes the instant after he fired.  Olcán did the same, knowing that there was no need to verify that the Surefire hit its mark.

Odin’s shot hit the Senator squarely in the center of his forehead long before any of the Secret Service agents on the floor could get anywhere near him.  It was accompanied by a small explosion that blew his head clean off.  It took a few moments for what had just happened to sink in with the crowd, who immediately let out a collective terrified scream before rising from their seats and moving for the exits.

Bledsoe’s eyes widened at the sight in front of her as she saw the two men disappear.  Her feelings only intensified when she saw the rifle rise up and disassemble seemingly on its own before going back into the duffel bag.  Still not over the paralyzing surprise, she could only watch as a utility vest, backpack, and duffel bag rose over the barrier and dropped out of sight.

Bledsoe could now only wait and listen to the rising pandemonium from where she was against the wall.  After recovering from her initial surprise, she continued to desperately struggle against her bonds.  Unable to pursue the assassins, she could only yell in frustration against the rag muffling her cries, and the tape holding her mouth shut.

The Secret Service agents on the floor were moving fast to clear everyone else who was anywhere near the podium to the sides and safety while Agents Kowalski and Cruz tended to Senator Saunders.  Seeing that taking a pulse or administering CPR would be useless, the two agents could only surround the body with their weapons drawn and scan for anyone who might have been responsible for the scene that was now unfolding around them as they waited for an ambulance.

Odin and Olcán jumped from the edge and landed on top of the broadcast booth.  They then jumped down to the next level below, moving as quickly, silently, and unnoticed as black cats in the dead of a moonless night.  They came to a specific men’s room before the coming stampede of horrified spectators got anywhere near it.

Once inside, their forms again became visible and they removed the portions of their clothing that had acted as masks.  The material came off not in a smooth pull, but in a peeling motion with an accompanying sound similar to that of an apple being peeled.  Odin had a rugged appearance with hazel eyes, short orange hair, and some bristly stubble on his face.  Olcán was clean shaven with thick Raven-black hair in a flattop and Prussian blue eyes.

They knocked seven times on the middle stall door, the only one that was closed, and it opened for them.  Inside stood a large very heavily muscled man with short hair slightly lighter than Olcán’s and brown eyes dressed in Khaki pants and a short-sleeved collared blue shirt.  He spoke with a German accent and had a look on his face that nearly matched the seriousness of Olcán.

“Did you get him?” the large man asked.

“Come on Dieter,” Odin said in a carefree tone, “I took the shot.”

“Das ist gute,” Dieter answered in a heavy German accent, “the Apostle will be pleased to hear this.  I do however have some bad news meine bruders.”  Dieter’s tone suddenly became more somber, but he spoke quickly knowing that time was of the essence.

“The exit that we had planned on using is being blocked and is inaccessible.  We have also underestimated the group of agents here, they are being much more thorough than we anticipated.”

“So what are you saying,” Odin asked slightly dismayed, “can we make it out of here?”

“Of course we can,” Dieter answered becoming slightly more frantic, “but the problem is that we won’t be able to make it out with all the weapons und clothes” he gestured to Odin’s duffel bag and the clothes he and Olcán were wearing to emphasize his point.

“We cannot leave any of the weapons because they would try to trace them und that would lead to possible exposure.  However, if we try to blast our way out we would have to kill innocent people.  So, I am afraid one of us may have to take the fall.”

Olcán didn’t hesitate to step forward after Dieter made the announcement.  He started to put his head covering back on when Odin stopped him.  Olcán immediately stopped what he was doing and looked at Odin, silently asking what he was doing.

“Dieter can’t stay behind,” Odin said, “and if there’s any trouble during the escape, Olcán’s the best man in a scrap.  So I’ll go run interference.”

“I don’t have time to argue with you brother,” Olcán said before taking a pair of jeans and a t-shirt out of his backpack, “but you do your best to escape and get to da rendezvous point.”

“If I’m not there by midnight,” Odin said confidently as he peeled off the black clothes he was wearing and replaced them with similarly-colored ones from Olcán’s backpack along with a balaclava, “then just go on without me.”

“We’ll do that,” Olcán replied as Odin handed him the ammunition he was carrying and Olcán put them into the backpack underneath Odin’s discarded clothing, “but if you’re caught just remember that the longer you stay locked up the more worried you’re going to make Alicia.”

“That’s fine,” Odin said as Olcán put the last of his tactical clothes, a pair of split-toe Tabi boots, into the bag and replaced them with casual shoes before zipping it shut, “it makes the homecoming that much better.”

“You’re a disturbed man Odin Bruce,” Olcán said as he put on a dark jacket before hugging Odin, “just get back safely.”

“Count on it,” Odin replied before separating from Olcán and clasping hands with Dieter.

“Godspeed Odin,” Dieter said before the two of them separated, “ve vill help you out.”

Odin nodded, Olcán finished tying his shoes and then stood on top of the toilet and took out one of the wall panels while Dieter positioned his hands at about the level of Odin’s knees and waited for Odin to put his foot there.

“Oh,” Odin said, “I almost forgot.”  He brought his hands around his neck and removed a chain, which he handed to Olcán.

“Will you give this to Alicia when you see her?” Odin asked, “If I get caught I think it would be best for everyone if they didn’t see this.”

“I agree with that,” Olcán said as he took the item from Odin and put it into his jacket pocket.  Odin then walked to Dieter, who gave him a boost into the ventilation shaft.

“We’ll see you back at the monastery,” Olcán said as he handed Odin the duffel bag.

“Tell Alicia and the boys that I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Odin replied, “now you two had better get moving if you’re going to join up with the crowd out there.”

Odin then began moving through the ventilation system as Olcán replaced the panel.  He and Dieter then moved to the door and waited for a chance to enter the throng of fleeing spectators.

While this was going on, Bledsoe continued to struggle with her predicament while the scene on the floor was only progressing from a sheer pandemonium to a scenario of unanswered questions and a rush to bring order to chaos.

The medics arrived and rushed Saunders out of the building, with Agent Kowalski joining them in the ambulance.  Taylor had joined Cruz on the floor while other agents searched the pavilion for the attacker.  The podium area of the pavilion was calm but contrasted by the lingering remains of the Senator.

One thing that threw Taylor and the others off was that while there was blood and brain matter by where Sanders had been standing, there was also a red streak and small puddle of blood several feet from where he had been standing.

“Anyone who can hear me,” Taylor barked into his earpiece after surveying the podium area, “I need any kind of status report you have!”

“Nothing on the roads,” Kowalski said into the radio, “looks like whoever did this is content with the deed itself.  The ambulance is putting on enough of a show that I don’t think anyone suspects things are as bad as they are.”

“No shit,” Taylor said angrily, “from where I’m standing it’d be pretty impossible for a f#$%ing ambulance to convey just how hard the shit’s hit the fan in here!  Can anyone tell me something I don’t already f#$%ing know?!”

“We have all the exits covered,” another voice said, “no one is getting in or out without being screened.”

“We’re moving in with the SWAT team,” another voice said, “we’ll force out whoever pulled the trigger.”

“Good,” Taylor said in a slightly softer voice, “give me updates as they happen!  Cruz,” he said taking his hand off his earpiece, “see if you can find Bledsoe!”

Cruz nodded and left to complete his assigned task.

Odin crawled around in the ventilation system for a little while before coming to an empty office.  He couldn’t hear any people around, and he saw that the blinds were drawn.  Figuring that it was as good a place as any to make his exit, he kicked out a panel in the ceiling and then dropped the duffel bag to the ground.  He jumped down himself a moment later.

He slowly walked over to the blinds and parted them with his fingers just enough to where he could see into the hallway.  The hall was just as deserted as the office, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  He then retrieved the parts of his rifle from the bag and began to disassemble them.  He knew that he had to make sure any attempt to trace the weapon would be futile, so he kept at his task until the four parts of the weapon were reduced to their bare screws, springs, and other base components.

He used his thumbs to shatter the two lenses from the scope and then stood on a desk to drop the glass shards and a few of the smaller gun parts down the vent.  He looked on the floor and saw a wastebasket, he dumped out the contents and put some more of the parts in there before replacing the garbage.

Odin walked to the back window of the office and looked outside.  He could see people leaving the pavilion like a huge group of insects swarming out of a discovered hiding place.  Police cars and ambulances were moving in or already parked.  He was so consumed with trying to find a way out, that he didn’t notice the blue light suddenly flood the room.

Odin instinctively brought his arm in front of his face and could tell where the light was coming from.  The police helicopter hovered in place in front of the window, and Odin knew that he was radioing his position to anyone who might be looking for him.

He thought of his best course of action, and decided that it would be best to keep the authorities occupied as long as possible.  He turned and grabbed his duffel bag as he ran out of the office.  He looked to his left and saw a hallway that ended at an elevator.  He then looked to his right and saw a hallway that ended with a junction.

His first impulse was to go for the junction and try to find some stairs, but he decided on the elevator since it would take more time and he would be able to confuse his pursuers.  He ran for the elevator and pressed the up button.

“Bledsoe!  Bledsoe!” Agent Cruz cried out when he reached her designated station.  He turned down the hallway and called out again.  After hearing Cruz’s voice, Bledsoe did her best to answer.

“Whoa,” Cruz said in surprise when he got his first view of his comrade.  “I found Bledsoe,” Cruz said into his earpiece, “what do you want us to do from here?”

“Get her down here,” Taylor’s voice bellowed out, “I want to talk to her!”

“Affirmative,” Cruz answered, he then took his hand off his earpiece and crouched down to where Bledsoe frantically mumbled to him.

“Hold still,” Cruz said as he got a look at what was preventing Bledsoe from speaking to him.  He carefully removed the top pieces of tape and then saw what else he had to work with.  Bledsoe gestured her arms toward him the best she could and mumbled something Cruz discerned as “get my hands.”

“What the hell happened here?” Cruz asked as he took out a multi-tool he carried on his belt and used the pliers to cut the zip tie.  Immediately after her hands were free, Bledsoe quickly brought her hands up to the tape and ripped it off so strong and fast that it made Cruz cringe inside.

“I’m not sure,” Bledsoe said angrily after spitting out the rag and ignoring the sting she felt over her face as she absently rubbed her lips with the back of her palm, “everything was fine until some guy came out of nowhere and jumped me.  When I woke up, I was like this.”

“He couldn’t have done this between when you radioed in the security breach and when the shot was fired,” Cruz said helping Bledsoe to her feet, “so what happened?”

“I’ll tell you on the way down,” Bledsoe answered.  She quickly got to her feet and walked over to where Olcán left her earpiece.  She picked it up and put it back in its proper place.

“I’m back,” she said simply as she and Cruz started to move back to the podium, “what can I do?”

“Get down here,” Taylor muttered, “in case you haven’t figured it out, Saunders is dead.”

Inside the elevator, Odin set his duffel bag on the ground and pressed the emergency stop button.  He then accessed the top of the elevator cart and dropped the remaining pieces of his rifle down the shaft.  After that he returned to the inside of the cart and deactivated the emergency stop.

When he reached the top floor, the doors opened and he saw Agents Bledsoe and Cruz standing outside.  They paused, and Odin used that moment to his advantage.

Faster than Cruz could react, Odin kicked him squarely in the chest and then sprang forward hitting him with a right hook and striking him in the face with his left knee.  Cruz fell to the floor and Odin was about to sprint for the stairs, but Bledsoe had already moved in front of him and was now between him and his way out.

“Put your hands against the wall,” Bledsoe said with her gun drawn and her best assertive voice, “you’re under arrest.”

Odin got a curious look on his face, doubting her as most people did, and remained where he stood.  Then, in one fluid and incredibly fast motion, he spun around and knocked Bledsoe’s weapon out of her hand.  He then charged forward ready to bring her to the ground.  Odin was in for a huge surprise.  She side-stepped him and brought her leg up into his face.  Odin staggered back from a combination of the strength of the kick and the surprise of it landing.

“I’ll only say this one more time,” Bledsoe said as she got into a Karate fighting stance and did a little better at sounding assertive, “put your hands against the wall, you’re under arrest.”

Odin got into a Kung Fu style fighting stance, and then moved forward.  Bledsoe blocked Odin’s first punch then quickly blocked or dodged the follow-up punches and kicks he threw.  Odin was surprised at how she blocked everything he threw at her, especially since he himself moved incredibly fast.  Odin threw a roundhouse kick, Bledsoe ducked under it and rose back to her feet before Odin could right himself.  She then quickly landed a stiff punch to Odin’s head, causing him to stagger back again.

“Hey,” Cruz said groggily into his earpiece, “Bledsoe and I are up above the broadcast booth and I think we’ve found the assassin.”

“What makes you think he’s the assassin?” Taylor asked.

“We found him with a duffel bag wearing black clothes and a balaclava,” Cruz answered, “we could use some help up here because I don’t know how long Bledsoe can keep fighting him.”

“The SWAT team’s already on the way up,” Taylor said, “they saw a guy matching that description in one of the offices a few floors below you.  I’ll let them know where you are.”

“Affirmative” Cruz answered.

Odin continued to engage Bledsoe, deciding to test her offensive abilities since he could see that she was more than capable of defending his attacks.  She threw a few punches and kicks his way, Odin dodged them and moved behind her quickly enough to coil his left arm around her body, trapping her arm, and moved to do the same with his right.

Before he could, Bledsoe lifted up her arm as Odin’s encircled her.  She quickly brought her elbow up and struck him sharply in the temple three times.  As Odin staggered back, Bledsoe brought her right leg up high and spun around on the toes of her left to kick Odin hard enough in the temple to make him stagger back.

Without hesitation, Bledsoe followed up by striking Odin’s head with the back of her right fist followed by a hard left hook.  Odin fell to the ground, but recovered quickly enough to get to his feet before Bledsoe could do any more damage.

Odin decided he was done playing around and got into a fighting stance that made Bledsoe wonder if he was serious.  He stood with his fingers stretched straight out and leaning forward from a squatting position.  Bledsoe had only seen someone actually use a stance similar to that in old Kung Fu movies.  She could see that he was serious when he moved forward.

She fought him off for a moment, until Odin landed three picture-perfect blows to specific nerve clusters before crouching down low and flipping her over his back.  Odin sprinted for the steps without waiting for her to get up.  Bledsoe moved as quickly as she could to where her gun had fallen, firing five shots at the fleeing Odin.

Odin dropped to the ground as the five bullets whizzed past him.  He then pushed himself up from the ground like he was doing a push-up and brought his feet forward to where he was standing up and ran to turn the corner.

Bledsoe could only watch in amazement and wonder how he’d been able to do what he just did.  She had never seen anything like it, and she still couldn’t get over the fight she’d just been in.  She hadn’t lost a fight that soundly since she was six years old.

“He’s on the move,” Bledsoe said into her earpiece, “he’ll be going down the east staircase.  He appears to be unarmed.  But be advised that he is extremely proficient in unarmed combat.”

“We’re on our way,” Taylor answered, “you and Cruz go down the same route and we’ll sandwich him in on his way out.”

“Copy that,” Bledsoe replied.  She then walked over to where Cruz was and helped him to his feet.  They then ran in the same direction they’d seen Odin moving.

Odin found the stairs and quickly moved down.  He stopped for a moment when he saw a group of Police officers and a few Secret Service agents coming up.  Knowing that the two agents he faced earlier would be on his tail, he took the next exit he came to.

He came to a corridor similar to the one he’d gone through earlier after being spotted by the helicopter.  He started running and took in everything he passed.  He noticed where different offices, restrooms, and anything else he thought might come into play were located.

He moved forward until he heard a loud male voice pierce the air.

“Stop!” Odin obeyed and stopped in his tracks with his back to the one addressing him.

“Put your hands where we can see them, and get down on your knees!”

Odin put his hands in the air, and then a smile came to his face.  He dropped down to his knees and waited for a few moments before he could hear someone approaching him.  As the police officer brought a pair of handcuffs out and prepared to cuff him, Odin spun around and footswept him.  The other officers and agents had their guns drawn and a few of them took shots at him, Odin dodged the bullets as though he could trace their paths and started running toward the wall of officers and agents.

Some of them were becoming terrified of the unreal scene unfolding before them.  When he was close enough, Odin jumped forward and hit one officer with a spinning back kick.  He then dropped down and foot-swept an agent and rose to his feet and blocked an attempted blow with a nightstick before flooring the police officer who attempted it and acquiring the weapon.

He hit one of the officers in the head with the nightstick so hard that it shattered the helmet he was wearing.  Odin moved faster than the majority of the men could react, and in a couple of minutes, had knocked them all down.  He started running back the way he’d come and was met by the rest of his pursuers.

He hit the first man he came to in the chest with the nightstick, and then hit another man with a head kick.  He hit another man with a sidekick and dropped down for another foot sweep.  As he came up, he hit another man with a sharp kick to the groin and dropped another man with a three-hit combination consisting of a strike to each side of his torso and then one to his head from the nightstick he was holding.

Next, he kicked another man straight in the chest and hit another one in the kneecap with his nightstick.  He hit another police officer with a hard head kick, and then a horde of cops and agents tackled him from behind.

Odin fell on his stomach, and hit one of the agents that was on top of him with a stiff elbow before being pinned down.  Odin craned his neck and could see at least a dozen guns pointed at his head.

“If you move again,” a frustrated SWAT officer barked out from behind an M4, “then we’ll find out who the hell you are from your dental records!”

Realizing the situation he was in, Odin decided that he had bought his comrades all the time he could.  He didn’t resist when one of the officers cuffed his hands behind his back and then brought him to his feet.  Agent Taylor, with blood coming from his recently elbowed nose, walked up to Odin and took off his balaclava.

“And here I pegged you for Al-Qaida,” he spat out, “let us know where you take him,” he said to one of the officers holding Odin, “we have top priority.”

A few moments later, Odin was being put into the back of a police truck and the atmosphere around the pavilion could be described in many ways.  There were reporters there, and the combination of lights around them and flashes from photographers betrayed the fact that it was night.

Many people were still around the pavilion.  Some of them were there because they wanted to know what had happened.  Many were there because they were so despondent at the loss of the man they believed would lead them into a greater tomorrow that they couldn’t think of what to do next.

Some people were being interviewed as the world was being made aware of the tragedy that had occurred.  All the people being interviewed were showing the dismay being felt by all who had witnessed the event and were having trouble putting those feelings into words.

There were two people outside the pavilion who had gone unnoticed by the crowds gathering outside.  Dieter and Olcán stood by a statue a short distance from the pavilion, and saw Odin being taken into a police truck in handcuffs.  They were careful to see which Department’s symbol was on the vehicle.

“Well,” Dieter said, “they either caught him, or he pulled what has to be the greatest switcheroo of all-time.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Odin,” Olcán said, “but I’m sure that was him in the car.  Do we know any lawyers around here?”

“I am not sure,” Dieter answered, “we should call the Public Defender’s office.  Did you two patch up?”

“We both did before we left,” Olcán answered, “but you’re right about the PD’s office.  Do they still have payphones here?”

Dieter nodded and took Olcán to a nearby payphone.  While Dieter kept an eye out for anyone who might be watching them, Olcán lifted up the receiver and removed the cover on the bottom end.  He took a small electronic device out of one of the inside pockets of his jacket and placed it inside the receiver.  He then replaced the cover, and took a card out of one of the pockets of his jeans.

The card had the number for the local public defender’s office.  Olcán dialed the number and waited for a moment while the phone rang.

“Public defender’s office,” a female voice said over the phone.

“Hello,” Olcán said in a flawless American accent, “there’s someone at the State Police Station asking for legal counsel.”

“Okay,” the female voice said, “what’s the name of the accused?”

“He wouldn’t give it,” Olcán answered, “just some pathetic wretch that wanted to buy a moment’s happiness in exchange for a miserable eternity.”

“I’m sorry,” she said confused, “but what was that last thing you said?”

“I said,” Olcán stated, “he’s a pathetic wretch that wanted to buy a moment’s happiness in exchange for a miserable eternity.”

“Okay,” she answered, “we’ll send someone over right away.”

“Thank you,” Olcán said, “you people do a great service.”  He then hung up the phone, lifted the receiver back up, and removed the device.

“I gave them the message,” Olcán told Dieter, returning to his Irish accent, “they said they’d send someone right over.”

“Do you think they will know how to handle this,” Dieter asked, “it’s been a while since any of us have needed legal counsel.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Olcán said, “we should have some people friendly to the cause in that office.”

“We can only hope,” Dieter answered, “let’s go.  The Apostle und Shepherd will want to know that the mission was a success.”

Olcán nodded, then he and Dieter walked off into the night sky.  Walking away from all the lights, and effortlessly dodging each person in the flow of people and vehicles moving toward the pavilion.  Moving away from where the entire world’s focus was being drawn, and into the shadows.

[leah-halliwell92]

Too Much Love Can Kill You

Summary: Soul marks are found through touch and song, one must sing to find their half and touch completes their connection. To reject your mark is to sentence them to death. you have been on tour with Brian, Roger and Rufus for a year and have known them for nearly four. What happens when you find out along the way that you are the mark of one Brian May?

Previously:

Roger saw this and sat back holding back a smirk of his own.

‘Aim, shoot, kill,’ he thought as he saw Brian go from listener and friend to your soul mark.

“So…” Brian began almost jovially, “You’d have willingly taken part in your daughter’s murder?”

–//–Meanwhile with the moms and kids –//–

“Mom…not Brian,” you say as you get up and make a dash for the door.

Rufus gave the women a smirk and followed after his sister.

Your mother exchanged looks with Sarina who not a moment later was staring slack yawed at the doorway.

“She didn’t mean Brian (Mother’s name)…she meant Roger,” Sarina said before she settled on a smirk and said, “Let’s take our time going back down.”

Your mother nodded and arm in arm the women took their time going back to the lounge.

Prologue – Chapter 1– Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 –Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 – Chapter 10 – Chapter 11– Chapter 12 – Chapter 13 – Chapter 14 – Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Sarina and your mother bumped into you and Rufus waiting for the elevator. 

“I thought you’d be downstairs by now,” Sarina said with a grin.

Rufus laughed and said, “We want to remember our childhood days and waited for mum like good kids.”

You slapped him playfully on the shoulder and laughed before saying, “She’s been busy for the past few minutes.”

The older ladies nod and the group then start talking about you and how you were as a child.

Sarina was not at all surprised to hear you were more than a handful as a little one. Nor was she surprised to hear that you were all for the underdog as you are now. What she was surprised to hear was about the time the school dean caught you and your friends smoking weed behind the bleachers. 

“It was one time,” you said with a huff, “The high was soooo much better than coming down. People just don’t tell you that when you go for the first hit.”

Rufus nodded at that equally as enlightened by his sister’s history as Sarina is. 

The elevator doors opened and the group still sharing anecdotes here and there about you and your childhood. It was fun to hear some of the stories reminding you that not all was as dark as it seemed. There are definitely some of those you’d tell Brian later; but you need to make sure everyone is alive for that. 

The sound of your phone ringing silenced the chatter. 

Rufus looked at your phone and laughed. 

“What!?” You said hitting him and sliding the phone open to answer it.

“You wouldn’t happen to be on your on your way down would you?” Mr. Carrey asked. 

“I am why?” You say brow furrowed.

“Your father has proceeded to dig is grave deeper,” he said anxiously, “Your mark is attempting to restrain Mr. Taylor as your father explains something to them.”

“The doors are opening I’m on my way,” you say and hang up breaking into a sprint to the hotel’s coffee lounge. You ran in to find Brian nearly siting Roger as the shorter man struggled to lunge over the table at your father. 

“What’s going on here!?” You asked anxiously. 

Roger nodded angrily in your father’s direction. 

Brian resumed his seat and proceeded to pull on on his lap. You could feel his tense frame relax as soon as you sat on his lap. His right hand found its way under your shirt onto the skin of your back and his left your free hand. 

The warmth that seeped through your bond did wonders for the both of you. You relaxed into his embrace nearly melting onto his side and he in return relaxed even more, despite the evident anger and discomfort that still clung to him. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say as you see your mother, Sarina and Rufus come in and retake their seats, “What is going on here?”

“We asked your father quite seriously if he’d have willingly taken part in your murder,” Brian said calmly. 

You weren't fooled. He might look outwardly calm but he is anything but, if how tight his grip on your hand give you a hint. 

“He said that ‘you’d have agreed and that it wasn’t murder if you agreed’,” Roger said through gritted teeth. 

You mother visibly paled at this and shuddered before gathering herself as much as she could and said, “You know as well as I do that she would have never agreed to the union (Father’s Name).”

Your father scoffed and said, “(Y/N) would have done it because it was a fare trade her hand for her education.”

Brian scoffed loudly at this and said, “That is not an answer.”

“So quit hiding behind what you wanted her to do and answer the question,” Roger said cooly. 

Your mother broke into painful sobs before hitting you father again over and over crying out, “You’d have let her die you bastard!”

“What was it?” Roger asked in disbelief, “The free education too much to pass up?”

“No!” Your father yelled as Sarina went to your mother, “She needed to be brought down to earth again. School and marriage would have done that.”

Out of nowhere you began to laugh...and laugh and laugh. Tears began to fall as the realization that yes your father would have practically sold you not only to save face but to prove that that was all you needed to be the type of successful he wanted you to be. 

Brian pulled you closer, as close as your current sitting position allowed, and let you sob as the truth washed over you in icy waves. 

Your mother stood from her seat and ran to you wrapping you in her arms. 

Brian allowed your mother to hold you and give you some time to gather yourself. 

You gently pulled away from your mother and stood up. You took a napkin from the table and wiped your eyes and nose. 

“I think we’re done here,” You say as strongly as you can, “And if you really think I’d have let you sell me then you are wrong. And if there had been the chance of such a union happening the only down to Earth bringing you’d have been privy too would have been my burial.”

“Don’t you talk to your father that way,” Your father said angrily. 

“Oh stop it (Father’s Name),” your mother said, “You wanted to keep her so close to the vest that you’ve yet to realize...”

“You lost me the moment you plotted an arranged marriage between two unmatched individuals so you didn’t have to pay a dime for university schooling,” You finished for her, “Jacob was a good boy, everyone in this town knew he was. But he changed and not for the better. A child needs to see he is loved and have a stable environment for there to be a good upbringing. Jacob’s life was turned upside down when his mother died and Jacob Senior took over both work and raising Jake.”

“And you know as well as I do that Old Jacob is as clinical as they come,” Your mother said voice icy, “That boy...that sweet gentle boy was broken when his mother died and instead of seeking help Old Jacob let that fester and the fact that he is a cold and clinical man did not help that.”

“Dad the fact that he has a record for aggression should have told you everything,” you say quietly. 

This raised everyone’s heads in question and shock. 

“You didn’t think I didn’t keep an eye out for my once best friend?” You said challenging your father, “Jake not only has anger management issues but can be more than a little possessive when it comes to things he considers his.”

“This is what your mother meant when she said that he’d rather see you dead than with someone else,” Rufus said in awe. 

You nodded with a sad look on your face then said, “And it pains me to see that my own father would rather see me dead than happy all because he had a plan and it didn’t go the way he wanted.”

Brian stood and took your hand in his.

You looked up to him and nodded at the silent question asked through the bond. 

“Bye dad it was nice seeing you,” you say shooting him a sad smile before making your way out of the lounge. 

Everyone left sitting stood and followed after you including, to your father’s surprise, your mother. 

It was afternoon already and you needed to get ready to head to the concert hall.

You came to a sudden stop when you felt your phone vibrate you look down at the still locked phone to read that Etta had seen Jake leave the florist and is heading to the hotel. 

“Well isn’t this a surprise,” Brian says with a knowing grin.

“What?” You ask about to put your phone away. 

Brian was faster and took it from you pressing on the home button to show the picture on the front. 

“What! I like that picture,” you say reaching for your phone only to have Brian move to avoid you getting it. 

“What picture?” Roger asked now curious. 

((Picture is above))

“This,” Brian says showing his bro the picture. 

“Well if it isn’t Brianna May in all her glory!” Roger says with a laugh.

“Dad...ring her phone,” Rufus said with a cheeky smirk. 

“Nope!” you say and nearly jump to get the phone back.

This spurred Roger on and you groaned as ‘I’m in Love With My Car’ blared from your phone and a picture of Rogerina popped up.

Rufus was nearly on the floor from how hard he was laughing. 

Sarina and your mother looked on fondly at the moment before breaking into their own peels of laughter. 

“Im so changing the pictures when we get home,” you grumbled as Brian gave you back your phone.

“No need for that my love,” Brian said kissing the crown of your head, “I’m flattered that you’d love me in any way, shape and form.”

You grumbled under your breath and nearly groaned when your mother said, “I’ll have to tell you about her musical crushes, well more like crush, sometime.”

“Oh really?” Roger said with a waggle of his brows and a chuckle from Brian. 

“They don’t need to hear that story mom,” you say trying to dissuade that particular story. 

The light atmosphere seemed to die as soon as an all too familiar voice said, “(Y/N)? Little (First Name) (Last Name) is that you? My God when I heard that you were in town I had to come see for myself.”

You all turn to see Jake Parker standing there with a bouquet of flowers and charming smile. 

–//–

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–//–

Tag List: @pansexualqueendarling, @queenattheopera, @brianandthemays, @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever, @ramibaby, @captain--americanna, @awkwardangelshezza, @avengerraven1023, @danamaleksworld, @pastywhiteperson, @readinghorn, @i-was-born-like-this, @redspecialstardust, @reedusteinrambles, @readinghorn, @subbysharkbabe, @capan-devereaux, @bowieandqueen11, @bellamy1998, @reedusteinrambles, @simply-sams-things, @sincerelygmg, @bleu-jean-baby, @brian-mayonnaise, @0hour9am, @toomuchtellyneck, @kimanne723, @sincereleygmg, @kyleetheeditor, @glamrockmonarch, @rawyld, @queensdivas, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @phoenixqueen07, @ohmybribri​, @jennyggggrrr​, @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​, @painkiller80​

[queen-rogah]

Take it easy (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: You have been having a huge crush on your friend Roger back when you’re still in college. Now he’s a rising rockstar and selling out universities in UK. You’re still finding the time to tell your feelings to him because that silence inside your heart kills you slowly. But he suddenly put up an argument with you that pretty sure broke the friendship a little bit. How will you both recover from that?…

Warnings: so so much angst agaaaain and fluffy goodies, also adding a lil bit of steamy scene and sexual tension whoops

Word Count: 6.6k+ words

Note: I’ll just drop this little idea I have in mind after finishing the Trapped in Montreux fic aaaaand I really want you guys to imagine that “Andante, Andante” by Abba was released in the 70s in this fic (since it’s originally in the 80s) but yeah, I’ll be using the song here :) enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

AUGUST 1971

The university was jam packed tonight. Seeing and feeling the vibe of the people grooving along and banging their heads to with the catchy beat. People and students are also trying to catch up with the lyrics, even though they don’t know it, and every stomp that the lead singer makes literally made the whole room shook. Their eyes are all around them, watching the frontman gracefully strut onstage, watching the guitarist and the bassist strum their instruments with their skillful fingers and the drummer–oh the drummer–was the ladies’ center of attraction–I mean attention–because of those luscious waves of blond hair, the doe eyes that are blue in color and the way he dress and always looks good in every clothing he has. He’s wearing that leather vest without any shirt underneath that’s why you can see his naked chest as he bang on those drums. Almost every night, every uni and every pub, you always hear some random ladies saying, “I want to show myself to the drummer.” “The drummer is mine, I hope he gets me tonight.” “Ladies, I may be a goddamn virgin but I’m pretty sure I’ll be grateful if he will pop my cherry.” Those comments could literally put bile resting on your tongue. Now you’re hearing new ones saying those words again as they prey on the members.

And you want to scream that you’re uncomfortable hearing those since you’re the drummer’s friend since college. You’re Roger Taylor’s friend, the eye candy of the band.

But you’re not the friend who is standing in front while dancing and enjoying the music they’ve made and also the girl you will shout in excitement the most. Instead, you’re the friend who is just standing by the corner or at the back, watching them with awe or with a smile on your face. Seeing what they would soon achieve with a very appealing aura and popular songs. They would soon break the charts, go straight to number one and beat all of the artists that are in line with them. You’re wishing they would go further.

“For the last time, good evening beautiful people! Thank you for coming along! This is now our final song!…” Freddie said through his microphone, with that half-stand thing. His signature microphone, how powerful he is.

That is your cue to leave the place as you finish the beer you’ve been holding through the whole set. You have made your way back in the parking lot, where the band’s van is. You lean back on it, pulling out a cigarette as you light it, to fight the cold breeze of the evening. You’re pleased that you’re going along the whole tour in every uni and pubs in the city, through Roger’s invite. The boys have known you since he introduced you from their previous gigs, that’s why you’re already close to them. You witnessed every venue be sold out and also helping them out in making posters for their gigs.

“Hey, is this the band’s van?.”

You turn your head towards your right to see a girl, maybe a college student since she looked younger than you. You cocked your head slightly to one side, looking from her head to toe.

“Yeah. What brings you here?.” You asked, keeping your chin up, feeling dominant to her.

“Roger said to me that I’ll wait for him here, turns out he already have someone waiting on him…” Her voice cracked a bit when she said and you widened your eyes, chin lowering down.

“Oh no no, I’m not…I’m not waiting on him. I’m actually his friend…” You reassured her as you shake your head to what she’s been thinking of you.

“Oh damn I’m sorry,” She chuckles, brushing the stray hair from her face. “I didn’t mean to–”

“No, it’s fine. This happens to me everytime. I’m just the band’s friend slash assistant in organizing their gig schedules.” You shrug, finishing off your cigarette, letting it fall on the ground from your fingers as you step on it with your boots.

Then the girl stays with you here, also leaning back on the vehicle. “I’m jealous of you, always being with the band. Being with Roger…” The way she said your friend’s name is kind of different, like the lovey dovey type of thing.

Well I’m jealous of you that Roger called you up, since he found you attractive. While I’m just here, just his friend. You rolled your eyes in the sudden thought and keeps on listening to her blabbers about Roger and the rest of the band.

You sighed in belief to hear the boy’s voices coming towards the van. They are now in their comfortable clothes, seeing them happy about the successful gig.

“Katie, looks like you’ve finally met Y/N here.” Roger said as he wrap his arms around her frame. Your eyes never looking away at the two, never realizing you’ve been shooting daggers on them already.

“Oh right, bloody hell I didn’t told my name, so you heard Roger, I’m Katie.” She smiles at you, reaching out for a handshake.

You put the fakest smile you’ve got and shake her hands, “Y/N, nice to finally know your name.” You said and quickly pull back your hand, putting it inside the pockets of your jacket. The coldness of the weather tonight is actually getting worse.

“It’s getting cold right now, we must go.” Brian says while rubbing his hands to create heat in that friction.

“I saw a pub down the street, maybe we should go check it out.” Freddie replied. All of you agreed, but Katie felt out of place, making you smirk a little bit on her facial expression. Roger, of course, is the one who will drive the van, and you took your place just on the passenger seat beside him.

But, “Uh, I think I should sit there to be closer to Rog.” Katie interjects and you furrow your brows at her.

“Uh–Rog?.” You turn back to the drummer who’s biting down his lip, probably thinking.

“Just this time Y/N..” Roger replied and you knew he won’t let you sit beside him. So you let out a quiet huff, stepping out of the passenger seat to let her sit there and would watch them flirt while you’re sitting at the backseat with the others.

The van started to move and the conversations starts. Freddie was having a deep conversation with Brian and Deaky, talking about how he beat them two in scrabble yesterday and would certainly beat them again. You just sat there looking through the window and enjoying the view of the city while the van is moving.

The van stopped in front of the pub that Freddie was talking about and parked the vehicle. You all hopped out and quickly got inside, escaping the cold. When you got inside, you’re thankful that this pub has a warm ambiance and welcoming faces of the people inside. Freddie found a booth but it’s too small to fit all the six people of your group.

But Roger had a great idea and that is to let Katie sit on his lap. That idea of his did made you roll your eyes, him and the others never catching you did it. You sat between Brian and Deaky as you ordered your drinks. You can’t tear your eyes away everytime Katie would giggle on something Roger would say in her ear and how he shifts his hips while she’s on his fucking lap. Your look was so bitter that it would apparently poison them to death.

But of course you’re still hiding the fact that you’re deeply attracted to the man who’s been your friend for years and just watching him be with other women. You won’t do anything because you’re not his goddamn type. Katie is the perfect definition of Roger Taylor’s type. A fit girl, blonde just like him and has the beautiful face ever.

So you won’t literally do anything because you’re not her.

“Y/N? Hey Y/N…”

Freddie’s finger snaps brought you back to earth as you finished zoning out and overthinking anything else. You didn’t realized you’re still holding on their menu as they wait for you to reply but you’re out of your mind.

“Earth to Y/N!?.” Freddie raises his voice that made you startle. You let out an awkward chuckle as you told him you’re getting just a regular whisky in a bottle. “What in the bloody hell you’ve been thinking? Did you just zoned out darling? I’m worried about you…”

“Uh, y-yeah I did zoned out and out of my mind a bit but it’s no biggie. Don’t think about me.” You shrug it off, waving your hands off.

“You don’t look fine to me Y/N.” Deaky added as you sighed.

Then Roger came in the scene after he’s just being so close–or too close–to the girl he just called up after a single gig. You know Roger doesn’t like the type of going-steady for a girl or settling down with the person he loves. He even says to you that he doesn’t believe in marriage and that marriage will always bring the two people together even though they fight. All of those to Roger are just pure utter bullshit. So you tried to fall out of love to him, but damn it won’t work because every year and every thing he does will always be interesting and attractive to you. He’s irresistible.

“Are you okay Y/N? Did you eat your lunch earlier?.” Brian asked before Roger would say anything, completely beating him to it.

“Y/N, I know we’re all tired and–” Roger started but you shrugged him off.

“Seriously guys, I’m okay. I just thought of something.” You smiled at him then your eyes dropped on Katie, who have an astonished look at you, feeling that jealous look again since all of the boys are actually worried of you.

“Okay, Y/N fine, everything’s fine. Shall we order the drinks already?.” Brian announces. All of your heads nods to his words, calling up the waitress as you all told your drinks for tonight. You felt Brian’s arm rested on the booth behind you, feeling the warmth of his arms, surprisingly comfortable.

You knew Brian had a crush on you ever since Roger introduced you to them, but this guitarist is still denying those feelings to you, even though his greatest friend Roger finally leaked to you how he adores you and how he is completely attracted to you. You are flattered, very flattered, because Brian is cute himself too but you just think he’s not the right one for you. He deserve someone out there who will accept him and love him dearly.

And you’re still hopelessly in love with your best friend.

“So Bri,” Roger interrupts him, causing him to remove his arms from behind you. The warmth from him faded. “How’s your thesis going?.”

Brian chuckles and plays on his fingers, “Still working on it, having pressures in between performances though. It’s very tough…”

“Well, you’re studying PhD today and working on your own thesis makes you the smartest being in UK.” You joined and Brian laughs, returning his hand behind you again.

“God you make me blush Y/N, I’m literally not the smartest being in UK but I take that compliment thank you.” Brian smirks at you, bumping fists with him. Your eyes trained over to Roger who’s eyeing you two, but when he notice you looking, he turn his head to Katie as they continue on what they are talking about.

You’re still taking this easy, just nice and slow. And the path to your ultimate goal is definitely happening right now.

…

Freddie took a lot of rounds in the pub, Brian did too as he is now drunkenly talking about space dust in his thesis and the time travel thingy, butterfly-effect thingy and all that shit. Wasted Freddie was so interested in listening to him, while having Deaky resting in his arms. Roger and Katie was playing the pinball by the corner, just beside the jukebox while Love Me or Let Me Be Lonely by The Friends of Distinction. The groovy tune of the song made you thump your feet on the ground and lipsync the lyrics. Roger hated the type of dance music and he’s the complete opposite to you. So, everytime you’re with him, you’re always will going to blast some songs that weren’t his type, soon seeing him so pissed off on you. And would actually change the radio to find some Hendrix.

You didn’t drink that much, even to Roger since he’s driving, but Katie was wasted as well. Her toned legs are slightly looking wobbly as Roger supports her, holding her body as they play the pinball, probably winning. You stole Freddie’s box of cigarette on the table as you left the pub, putting on your thick fur coat that Roger wanted to stole from you before. You light up your cigarette, taking a huge drag while looking at the empty streets in this late hour.

“When will I ever say my feelings to him? If I would say it, would he happily accept it? Would he like me back? Would he stop finding different women and just only look for me after each shows? Would he change himself for me?…” You said to yourself. Chest tightening for a second and then felt that pang inside, knowing that none of those would ever happen because you know it. You definitely know it.

“Who’s he?.”

You jumped in shock when you suddenly see Brian making his way to you, hands inside his jacket too. His curly hair we’re all over his face as you laugh at his drunk appearance. You stood on your tiptoes, brushing away the hair covering his face as you’re now looking at his hazel colored eyes that are tired. You didn’t realize you’ve been standing so dangerously close to him as you create the space between you and him again.

“I–uh, how are you now? Are you feeling fine?.” You awkwardly asked, scratching at the back of your neck. Boots clicking as you’re tapping your feet on the ground, showing that you’re nervous.

“Best drink, grateful to be drunk in those magnificent drinks. Hope this hungover won’t be a dickhead in the morning.” Brian says while massaging his temples, “And actually, who’s the guy you’ve been talking about earlier while you’re alone here? I swear I hear you saying, Would he…would he…in a couple times that I can’t count.”

You gulped, “No that’s nothing. It’s just a past of mine, a jerkass boy I liked before.” You lied.

You hated lying.

“Oh,” Brian’s expression changes. “So where’s that guy right now?.” He asks again.

He’s inside the pub, in the arms of somebody else’s. He’s actually your friend ever since in college too.

“Gone. Way gone.” You replied, still going on in lying. You totally forgot about your cigarette between your fingers as you throw the half cigarette on the ground, stepping on it with force.

“Lucky bloke, why did he leave if he’s having the most beautiful girl liking on him?.” Brian responses and that made you stop in your tracks, looking up at him. Your heart’s been racing again.

“God, stop Bri…” You chuckle as you start blushing and he lets out a sigh, lips agape as he tried to find the words inside his head. Like he have prepared a speech inside his mind.

“I’m such a weakling in hiding my feelings to you Y/N and I really wanted this to be out of in denial already and–”

“Bri, you’ve been so good to me but–”

And there Brian’s face fell, also feeling his heart sinking. “But, that’s the word that I’m afraid to hear from you. And now I’m hearing it from you, right here right now, I guess I’m rejected.” His voice cracks.

Oh no, no…

“No, Brian no it’s not like that but, I like you. I like you and I love you as my friend. The person who’s been there for me when I need some help. You really would find a way to keep my happiness be stored in me and I thank you for that and I–”

“But you’re the one that I want Y/N. You’re still the one that I want.” He steps closer, his lanky arms holding both your arms. Now this is making your heart break in pieces.

“Brian, I can’t…I really can’t. I’m so sorry. You will soon find that someone who will love you the way your parents did to you. The love that is unconditional and eternal. I’m not deserving for your love because I’m in love with someone else.”

And there you said it.

“In love…with someone else? Who?.” Brian backs away from you. Your mouth opens but no words came out, like you’re mute for a second and your brain soon clicks.

“With guy I’ve been talking about earlier. But I really want to let it stay anonymous but yes, I am really in love with someone…” You bite down your lip. And then you’ve felt Brian’s distance to you as you sighed in belief.

“For how long?.”

“Gosh, I can’t remember how long it is. I’m clueless.” You slightly chuckled. Lying because you probably knew that on September 1968. Both of you we’re 19 year olds and halfway finishing college. Probably the memorable date of your life.

“Why would you have to keep him anonymous?.” Brian asks and you smiled.

“You’ll know if you’re ready.” You pat his chest as you turn around, hearing the door from the pub opened to see Roger with Katie clinging around his body while Freddie and Deaky are now walking a bit straight, but still losing their balance.

“The pub’s already closing so we have to leave now. Come on, get in the van.” Roger said as you and Brian obliged. Sitting in the backseat together, while Freddie tripped his way inside the van. Deaky just gracefully hop inside and closed it.

Roger guided Katie on the passenger seat as she is now passed out. He drive away from the place and now he’s on your way to Freddie’s place. The drive towards there was silent, almost everyone of you didn’t said a single word. Only to hear the faint sound of music coming from the radio. Roger dropped Freddie off as he said his goodbyes to you, then Deaky went next until you, Brian, Katie and Roger are alone together. Roger was looking through the rear view mirror if something is happening between you and Brian as he feels suspicious. When the van dropped by Brian’s place, he turn to you as he gave you that surprise kiss on your cheek–maybe you’ve felt it too on the side of your lips, which made you froze in your spot. You watch Brian left the van and bid his goodbyes.

While Roger was now driving to your place, then he changed the radio station to hear the intro of Andante, Andante playing. One of the songs you adored but Roger again loathes. When he tried to change the station again, you tried stopped him.

“Hey, that’s my song. Stay in that station.” You said but he ignores you, flipping off to another station again. “Roger…”

“It’s my van and I control the radio.” He stated. You’re shocked on his grumpy remark that made you cross your arms together.

“Killjoy.” You muttered and rolled your eyes. He’s been cold towards you tonight, but you can play this game too as you sent him an icy glare by the time his ocean eyes look over to the rear view mirror.

His van came to a halt to see he’s now in front of your apartment as you hopped out the van, “Hey.” He calls.

You turn back to him again, “What?.” You coldly replied.

“Can I ask you something?.”

Your raise your right brow, “What’s that?.”

He bites down his lip, “Is there something you’re not telling me about your relationship to Brian?.”

Then your brows furrowed, “What? No, I’m not–”

“Don’t lie to me Y/N. I saw what I saw. Him being so flirty with you in the pub, your small talk with him outside and…and the kiss earlier–”

“Roger Meddows Taylor,” You slightly smirk, “Are you jealous?.”

He lets out a mocking laugh and that made you regret on what you’ve said, wanting to take it back, “Me? Jealous of you? Look, I’m just your friend ever since college but I’m not romantically inclined to you. Not ever.”

Your heart sank, “Well then why the fuck are you asking me about Brian? It’s none of your business anyway!.” You argued.

This is getting messy now.

“I’m just asking! And why are you raising your voice at me now?!.” He asks, also raising his voice. Not caring that your next door neighbors are actually sleeping right now. And Katie is still passed out. Thank God.

“And why are you doing the same too?!.” You shouted and he shrugs. Completely giving up on this rubbish fight.

“Oh fuck off now Y/N!, you’re acting like a child and I can’t believe Brian have an interest with a bloody child!.” He backfires and that made your mouth hang open.

You’re hurt, you’re in pain. You hated that phrase, you hated it. “Well then, I guess I’m gonna take my childish ass away from you. Probably won’t see you again, never helping you and the boys. Tell them I fucking quit, maybe you don’t want a child in the group anymore.” You stated. Those words absolutely shooting daggers to Roger.

He knows he crossed the line and now, he made a huge mistake.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t…fuck–” Roger trailed off as he watch you turn your back to him, ignoring his apology. You stepped inside your apartment, slamming the door close behind you.

You broke down in tears, leaning back on the door as you covered your face. Feeling the rage mixed with shame in your head. Maybe he’s right, you’re just nothing but acting like a goddamn child as you work with them. They’re better off without you and you know your feelings to Roger will be buried deep again, always kept unsaid since nothing in your life is the right time to say it.

…

TWO WEEKS AFTER

Roger was struggling a bit in making the flyers since it’s still being handwritten. Freddie is now helping him while Brian and Deaky are having a jamming session by the corner of the room. Two people won’t do much work, since they lost you in the group. Everything isn’t going normal right now.

“This what happens when Y/N is not around. Our gigs schedule are all over the bloody place! And Y/N is out there holding the planner with all the gigs we have.” Brian complains while tuning his usual red handmade guitar, been calling it the red special now.

Roger kept quiet as he writes on the paper for the flyers again, until Brian cleared his throat. The blond drummer turn his look at the guitarist as they exchange looks at each other. Freddie feels something is uptight and the fact that Roger still didn’t said anything about the fight that why aren’t you showing up with the band discussions.

“What actually happened with Y/N Rog? Huh? Because I don’t believe in you saying that she’s out of town because I just saw her yesterday in Kensington Market as she tries to avoid me.” Brian said and that made Roger sigh deeply.

But he kept his mouth shut again. Feeling the urge to say what he said to you that night, but shame is stopping him.

“Answer my bloody question Roger–”

“She quit! She quit because of me.” Roger raised his voice. Deaky stopped playing his bass and Freddie was shocked on Roger’s remark.

“Because of you? Why?.” Freddie asks.

“I said to her that she’s being childish herself and she’s better off without us, but…I take that back. I crossed her line, I know I hurt her, I made her feel the pain and I know…she’s deeply brokenhearted and I don’t know how to fix this. I did the shameful thing that a fucking friend has ever did.” Roger said. Brian was only staring at him as he listens to his explanation.

“God Roger what did you do.” Freddie gasps, his hands clutching over his chest.

“I immediately regret what I said before but it’s just too late. I broke her…so much.” Roger sadly said, his eyes glued down on the ground.

“You must talk to her again.” Deaky comments but Roger shakes his head.

“She won’t talk to me. Like ever.” Roger deadpans, crossing his arms together.

“Then think of an activity where you can have the way to talk to her.” Deaky again suggested, but Roger is still hopeless to you.

“That’s impossible.” Roger sarcastically chuckles and felt the weight in his chest again.

Freddie was looking at Brian as they discuss about something then Roger saw Brian nod his heads and then faced the blond drummer again. “Fred thought of something and I hope it will be possible to get Y/N back.”

“I’m in with Fred’s idea!.” Deaky exclaims and took steps closer with the others. Freddie planned everything out that made Roger stopped overthinking that much and feels like that would be successful.

“We’re getting our Y/N back darlings, we will never gonna lose her again.” Freddie said and put on a reassuring smile that would try to lift up Roger’s mood.

…

The phone started ringing from inside your living room. You lazily stood up from the couch as you answered the call, only to hear Brian’s voice in the other line.

“Hey, Y/N.” He greets and your heart raced. You feel bad in avoiding him when you’ll see him everywhere. It’s been two weeks since you said a word to the boys.

“Brian, why did you call?.” You replied and you hear him sigh in belief, feeling glad that you’re now speaking to him.

“Can we meet right now?.” He suddenly asks you and that made you wonder what would he do if you and him will meet. In the back of your head, you thought that he’s just going to ask you in joining with them again, probably will ask you a thousand times until you’ll say yes. Or, he will set you up in meeting the other boys to talk to you, including Roger that would add an apology to you.

But those are just options. Maybe he’s up to something more important.

“Right now?.” You made sure.

“Yeah, right now. I’ll meet you at Hyde Park, we’re having a picnic.” He excitedly said. You’re surprised that this is the first time that you’ll go on a picnic and it’s weird since the sun is already setting.

“A picnic? The sun is setting Bri I–”

The line went dead, saying that he just hang up on you, that’s why you’re just standing there in surprise, staring blankly at the phone. You are going on a picnic with Brian right now, like some couples do around this town and you thought about Roger again to what he will think of you and Brian.

You didn’t waste your time to change your clothes and left the apartment. You walked to Hyde Park since its just minutes away from your place, so when you finally saw children, families and couples spending their times here looking so happy and bright, you have arrived.

You’re finding those curls looking like a poodle around the park and eventually saw him by the distance, sitting alone in that mat with a picnic basket. He’s playing his guitar, waiting on you.

“Hey space boy.” You called him as you see his head turn to you, showing you a toothy grin. He stood up on his feet, motioning you to come close as you did, only to feel his warm embrace again.

“I’m glad you’re here. I have missed you…” He says, his arms still around you. His hands are now holding the back of your head, softly caressing your hair with his fingers.

“It was only for two weeks–”

“–why did you do that? Why did you quit?.” He asks. A sigh escaped from your lips, remembering Roger’s words from that particular night again.

You didn’t know Brian already why you had quit your job to them.

“I guess I wasn’t good enough, someone told me that.” You replied to him, that familiar break in your heart is there again.

“You’re always good enough Y/N, what an asshole to say you’re not.” He said and that made you chuckle a bit.

“Thank you Bri, for still being an awesome friend. And thank you for this picnic though, even it’s already sunset.” You slightly laugh as you both sat down on the mat he prepared. “Why couldn’t Roger be like you? He’s always acting cold to me whenever I’m with you and the others…”

Brian gulps when you brought Roger up, “There’s room for improvement yeah? Maybe…Roger is jealous that you’re close to us–”

“Bullshit. Roger never get jealous. He’s a damn cold-hearted person I’ve ever met.” You sarcastically snicker.

Brian fell into silence as he looks away from you, his eyes looking at the children buying ice cream nearby. So he stood up again, your eyes following his movements.

“Where are you going?.” You asked. “Is it what I said about Roger? Did I hurt your feelings because he’s your friend too?.”

“No, I have nothing against what you’ve said about him,” He replies, looking back to you. “Do you like some ice cream?.”

A small smile came onto your lips as you nod your head, saying yes to his treat. He returned that smile too as he walks away, going towards the ice cream truck. You turn back in watching the children flying their kites and couples lip locking while laying on the thin grass of the park. The sun sets, the orange color appeared beautifully on the sky, blending in the blue color.

You heard Brian’s steps getting back again, “Hey Brian, can you tell me about–”

You stopped in your tracks to suddenly see the blond drummer now standing before you. Hands in his pockets as he gives you a smile. You look around for Brian but he’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only you and him staring at each other now.

“Where’s Brian? Did you let him leave?.” You coldly asked him, brows creased together. Arms crossed in front of your chest.

“He showed himself out,” Roger says, taking Brian’s place beside you in this mat. You can’t believe you’re now speaking to the person you despise two weeks earlier because of those forbidden words come out of his mouth.

“What do you mean showed himself out? He just left? He left me here?–”

“It’s not his idea in leaving you here. We…actually set you up for you to talk to us.” He said and you blink your eyes, looking at him if he’s saying the truth.

“What? Set me up? This…this is bullshit Roger! I meant what I said before that I don’t want to see you again! And you set me up?!–”

“–it’s actually Freddie who thought of this plan. It’s not on me.” Roger stated, making you shut your mouth.

“But still I meant it. I quit, I’m never going back again.” You said, not looking at him.

“Y/N please, the band needs you so much. You’re like the most needed person to all of us.” Roger pleads. Body scooting close to you and felt his hand slipped into yours that is laying down on this mat. You pulled your hand away from his touch as your breath hitches. You still remember that you have feelings for him and now he’s sitting here beside you, hands wanting to interlock with you but you’re denying everything again.

You thought of the other boys and how they needed you too, not just Roger. This drummer is the only grudge to you, but bringing the boys in this mess too is just a cruel move. Your train of thoughts were interrupted to hear a thunder. The orange sky from earlier is now covered with dark clouds, wanting to drop a downpour.

“Fuck, it’s gonna rain.” Roger said and quickly stood up, also helping you up. You folded back the mat as he held the picnic basket too.

“Where are we going now?.” You asked him. Lightnings soon appearing in a far distance.

“Let’s go inside the van.” He says, holding out his hand for you to hold. You hesitate a bit before cursing to yourself, holding his hand again. He led you to where the van is parked and quickly got inside, just in time the rain started to pour.

You lean back on the passenger seat as you look over to Roger who’s still isn’t starting up the van, “What are you doing Rog? Let’s go.” You said.

“The downpour is getting worse. It’s safe for us to stay here until the rain slow down. You know I can’t drive with a bloody foggy road.” He retorted and put the picnic basket in the backseat. You also put the mat there and stayed silent for a second.

“I thought Freddie and the others are here with you.”

“Well, I said to Freddie that it’s my fault that you left the group, that’s why he sent me here in his plan to ask you for an apology. I was being a total wanker to you, a cruel person, a bad friend. So please hear me out, I’ve been wanting to say this to you ever since that fight.” He started and now you’re looking in his eyes.

“Alright, go on.”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean those words…I’m just having a bad day at that time. It’s ironic really, because I already have Katie with me before and just performed in one of the prestigious colleges here. But when, I just saw you being so close to Brian is something to me, it’s–”

He stopped talking when you suddenly lean in, reaching out to switch the radio on. Surprisingly the same song on the same night came on, the soft melody of the music engulfs the small room in this van.

“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze…” You sang, tapping your fingers on the damp window that is now filled with raindrops. You want to ignore that you’re here with him right now. Just sing the song he despised and maybe he’ll be back to normal again, because through the words he’s been saying, it feels like he’s not himself.

“Take your time, make it slow. Andante, Andante. Just let the feeling grow…” You continued.

There was a silence between the both of you. Until, “Y/N, look at me.” He rasps.

Your turn your head to him, facing that face that was too beautiful for a man, “Roger, I–”

“I like you Y/N, so much…”

And there it feels like your whole world turned around. It feels like you entered an another reality, where everything is happening backwards. You were the first one that planned out everything in saying your feelings to him, since 1968, but right now, you’re hearing the words you wanted to tell him from his own lips. His words dropped like a bomb, exploding your deepest thoughts of him. You feel like you’ve gone through an amnesia, forgetting almost every scene of your life with him and only remembering this scene, right now.

“I…I like you too Roger, but you shouldn’t have to know it.” Your voice cracked.

“Why is that?.” His hand soon cupped your face. The music still playing in the vehicle, the sound of rain is still loud.

“Maybe soon you’ll broke my heart Roger because I know you. You’re not the guy who likes to settle down with somebody and not the one who falls in love easily.” You said, trying not to broke down in tears.

“Y/N–”

“No, maybe I’ll break my own heart because I always fall in love easily and I don’t take things easy. I’m always the girl who likes to make things perplexed. That’s why I’m here in front of you, already being a fucking coward in hearing your confession. I’m a dumb bitch, I’m–”

“No! Fuck, don’t say that to yourself. You’re not dumb.” Roger cuts in, thumb grazing over the skin of your cheek. “And the way you talked about making things complicated for you, maybe it’s because you wanted to see things happen the way you wanted to but not how fate destines to. But taking a little risk would do no harm. You’re not doing any harm Y/N…”

Those words from this clever blond drummer struck your heart that really made your mood lighten up. He’s right that maybe risks can be good sometimes, but still take it easy. And when you look over to the window, the downpour starts to slow down, then your head turn to look at Roger, but you’re surprised in his sudden move.

He kisses you, softly at first. You were startled in his movements, of how his fingers hooks your chin while kissing your mouth. You soon knotted your fingers in his hair, pulling him close as you gracefully kissed him back. Roger made room is his seat, pulling you in to straddle his lap. You did, legs now on either side of his lap as his hands found the back pockets of your jeans, slipping his hands inside.

Roger groaned softly, under his throat as he pull away. Those swollen lips is the perfect view for you since you made that. His lips curled up in a flirty smirk as he pecks your lips again, making you giggle a bit.

“What? Do you want me to stop Ms. Y/L/N?.” He whispered on your mouth. His warm breath engulfing your lips.

“Never stop Mr. Taylor.”

[adrenaline-roulette]

He’ll save every one of us Chapter 2

Brian May x Reader with side notes of Roger Taylor x Original female character

Preview:  “I’ve been scouring the phone-book for over an hour now, and I think I’ve narrowed it down to two.  I just don’t know which one to go with.” “So, show up to the other address first so you won’t be late?” 

Chapter two: Joining an Amish community? 

“Help!”

“You need somebody?”

“Yes, help me Roger!”

“Oh, so not just anybody?”

“Help, you know I need someone!” Brian stands from his cross-legged position by the coffee table in his apartment, glaring at his blonde housemate. Roger can’t help but grin at the tall man before him. “I swear to God, if you continue quoting the Beatles, I will walk out of this apartment.

“This is your apartment though?”

“Yeah, well, that’s how annoying you’re being!” Brian groans, his frustration obvious across his features.

Roger raises a quizzical eyebrow, as he makes himself more comfortable on the old, patchwork sofa. “Alright, talk to me Bri.”

Brian rests his hands on his hips, looking down at Roger. “I’ve been scouring the phonebook for over an hour now, and I think I’ve narrowed it down to two Y/N Y/L/N’s. I just don’t know which one to go with. What if I turn up to the wrong doorstep? And then because I’m late in getting to the other address, which is where Y/N actually lives, she thinks I’ve stood her up, and then won’t go out with me!”

Roger blinks up at Brian, biting down on his bottom lip. “So, show up to the other address first so you won’t be late?”

There’s a moment of silence, before Brian can comprehend the amount of stupidity that was the sentence Roger had just uttered. “I will murder you, and make it look like an accident!” Brian roars, lunging for the thick phone book which he had left on the coffee table, and aiming it at Roger.

“Mercy! Please, have mercy!” Roger laughs, scrambling off the sofa, his sock clad feet slipping against the recently waxed floors, as he attempts to make a hasty get away.

Brian makes chase, still wielding the phone book in his left hand, as Freddie enters the apartment John following close behind. Both men stand in the doorway, heads tilted to the side, as their eyes follow the two men around the small room. “All that’s missing is the Benny Hill theme…” John murmurs to Freddie, who instantly grins, before humming the iconic tune.

The chase ends with Brian smacking the book against Roger, who clasps his palm over his now throbbing shoulder. He had never been smacked by a book before, and was entirely unsure whether it would bruise or not. If it did bruise, he wouldn’t be wearing his favourite black vest for their gig next week. The item of clothing showed off far too much upper arm to wear when sporting a massive bruise. “Ladies, ladies, please. What is this all about?” Freddie finally asks, as he and John fully enter the apartment. Despite having only met on the weekend, John had somehow found himself spending almost every day with Freddie, Brian and Roger. They had accepted him into their band of misfits, and had all grown used to Freddie walking in with John in tow.

 Brian shoots one final glare at Roger, before turning his attention to his fellow housemate, and the new bassist. Just as he is about to answer, Roger butts in, grinning merrily. “Brian here doesn’t know which house to pick his lady love up from tonight.” Hy says in a sing-songy voice.

“Yes, and whose fault is that? Remind me again, who was it who told Y/N that I knew where she lived?” Brian grumbles, folding his arms across his chest.

Freddie can’t help but laugh, a deep and melodic sound which emanated directly from his chest.  The glare which Brian shot at him however, soon cut his laughter short. “I’m sorry Brian, I truly am, but it was just so much fun picking on you!”

“Yes, well now because of your little joke, I have no idea what I’m going to do!”

This time, it’s John who speaks up, stepping forwards so he was in the centre of their odd little circle. He reaches into his back pocket, producing a folded napkin, carefully unravelling it so it lay smooth in his palm. “It would probably be best if you follow these directions. Should take you about twenty minutes to get there, so you may want to get ready now.”  

Three sets of eyes stare at the grinning bassist, though none seem to know quite what to say. “So, let me get this right, you don’t have the actual address written down, instead you have directions? How did you get those!” Brian sighs, as he takes the napkin from John’s outstretch hand.

“I have my ways Brian.”

Freddie squeals in delight, wrapping his arm over John’s shoulders in a side hug. “Oh, you wicked man! Dastardly Deacon I think we shall call you!”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit of a mouthful?” Brian calls over his shoulder, as he makes his way into the bathroom.

“How about Dastardly Deaks?” Roger suggests, as he collapses back on the sofa, slipping a fresh cigarette between his lips.

Freddie pouts as he mulls over the name suggestion, resting his index finger over his chin. “Dastardly Deaky?”

“We could lose the Dastardly part, and just go with Deaky?” John offers with a shrug. Roger and Freddie look between each other, grinning happily.

“Deaky it is! Welcome to the band Deaky!” Freddie cheers, as he saunters over to Roger, stealing one of his cigarettes.  Rogers bats his hand against Freddie’s in an attempt to keep him away from his pack of smokes, only for Freddie to raise an eyebrow in challenge up at him.

“Roger, don’t you go forgetting who paid for this pack.” Freddie warns. Roger quickly removes his hand, and opts for sulking instead.

“No offence Deaky, but technically he’s not in the band yet! We haven’t auditioned him yet!” Brian calls, his voice echoing throughout the tiled bathroom.

“Oh, he auditioned for me this morning! I decided he could be our new bassist.” Freddie smirks, lighting up his smoke.

Roger sighs, a pained expression crossing his face. “I’m about to channel my inner Brian here, but Fred, that sort of thing should be a group decision. Not that we don’t want you in the band Deaky, we love you.”

“Listen, I’ve known Deaky for only a few days, but if anything were to happen to him, I would kill whoever hurt him, and then myself.”  Freddie declares dramatically, throwing the pack of smokes and a lighter to the bassist.

Brian emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a fresh pair of jeans, and a clean shirt, a leather jacket draped over his shoulder. “Rog, I’m borrowing your jacket.” He calls, the blonde shrugging in response.

Freddie mutters under his breath as his eyes travel from Brian’s head, to toes, his eyes growing dark at the footwear his friend had chosen. “I swear to God Brian, if you are wearing clogs on a first date, I will kick you out of this band.” The three men had made themselves comfortable around the living room, with Roger sprawled out on the sofa once again, Freddie sitting cross-legged on the floor, with his back leaning against an old, and fraying armchair where Deaky was laying, with his legs dangling over the arm.

“What is wrong with clogs? They’re comfortable, and practical!” Brian defends.

“Practical? In what way? In case you get lost in an Amish village?!” Freddie shrieks. Deaky can’t help but laugh, the image of Brian attempting to churn butter, one that was unlikely to leave his mind anytime soon.

Brian simply shrugs, as he slips his wallet into his back pocket, slipping the borrowed jacket on, despite the warm weather. “Well, I suppose if I go missing, then you had better be sure to check all the nearby Amish communities just in case.”

“I think I heard about one near Wales, I’ll check there first!” Roger offers, waving him goodbye with a childlike grin. Brian wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or frightened that Roger would be the one to come looking for him if he didn’t return. Knowing how scatter brained the blonde could be, it would likely be at least four months before he realised Brian had never returned home.

“What time are you meeting up with Bree?” Brian asked, as he opened the front door, turning to his friend.

“Honestly, I don’t quite remember. I think we agreed around nine?”

“Do you have any idea where you’re meeting her?” Deaky smirked, shaking his head to remove a few stray strands of hair from his eyes.

“It was either the wobbly Elephant down the road, or maybe I told her to just come straight here. I can’t remember if we wanted to get drinks first or not.” Roger shrugged, and Brian sighed for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon.

“Welcome to the family Deaky, you’ll get used to Rog eventually.” Brian half smiled, before making his way out to the streets of London.

                                                                          ****

     You scowled at your closet, arms folded across your chest, willing an outfit to jump out at you. It shouldn’t be this hard, you had been on dates before, but you had never encountered this much difficulty in picking something to wear! You could almost guarantee that Bree wasn’t having anywhere near as much trouble as you were, granted though, from what you had picked up on her talking about her date with Roger, ‘date’ was a rather loose term. Most likely it wouldn’t matter what she wore, it wouldn’t be staying on for long. “Just reassure me one more time that tonight isn’t a double date!” You called out to Bree, who from what you had last seen of her, was currently collapsed on the sofa in your lounge room, counting how many empty beer cans were scattered around your shared apartment.

You could practically hear her roll her eyes at your question; you had asked the same thing at least five times today. “No it isn’t a double date. You and Brian are going out for dinner, and Roger is showing me his bass drum.”

“That’s code for something, I’m sure of it.”

“I would bloody well hope so. I did not get all dressed up, just for him to show me his drum set! I can look at your drums any time I want!”

This time, it’s your turn to roll your eyes, smirking at her clear desire of what her night will entail. “Here, what do you think of this one?” You ask, stepping out of your bedroom, holding up a denim jumpsuit, the sleeves covered half of your bicep, with a collar, and a zipper down to the waist band, and wide bellbottoms. As you presented the garment, you held up a bright red belt, it was wide with a circular buckle in the centre, and a perfect accompaniment to your overall outfit.

“Oh! Yes, that is fantastic! But what shoes?” Bree grins, pressing a fresh cigarette to her red painted lips, breathing inwards as she lit the end. “Wait, I have the perfect shoes!” She cries out, leaping off the sofa and hurrying to her bedroom. You lean against the arm of the sofa, folding your clothes over your forearms, as you await Bree’s return. “Here they are, these will be perfect!” Bree skips out of her room, dangling a pair of bright red blogs, the exact same colour as your belt, swinging them in front of you.

“I knew there was a reason you were my best friend!” You grin, as you take the shoes from her outstretched hand.

“Because I’m fabulously amazing, and the best singer in the entire world?”

“Sure, that’s why. It’s definitely not because we wear the same size shoe!”

“That had better not be the only reason why!”

“Love you Bree, thanks for the shoes!” You chuckle, making your way back into your room to get yourself ready for your date. You slip into the jumpsuit, sliding the zipper up halfway, revealing a decent amount of cleavage, before wrapping the belt around your waist, buckling it up so it sat neatly around your waist. After stepping into the clogs, you turn to look in the mirror, grinning at your reflection. “Not too shabby.”  You think aloud, before running your fingers through your hair, loosening the strands up so they fall around your face in a very Farrah Fawcett manner.

 “Lipstick or no?” You call out once again, as you held the black tube between our fingers. The lipstick you had selected was a nude shade, one that you and Bree had spent hours selecting a few months ago, you had been looking for the perfect shade to match your skin, and this was the first time you were considering wearing it.

“Depends on what colour? You know I’ll suggest a red lip, but that’s just who I am!”

“I think if I have red shoes, belt and lips then it might be a bit much, don’t you?”

You can hear Bree grumbling, though you can’t quite make out the words, most likely she’s upset about your choice to go against her suggestion. You swipe on the lipstick with expert precision, touching up the edges with a tissue so there were no flaws. Just as you finish, a sharp knock on the front door echoes throughout the apartment, and you can feel your heartbeat pick up pace, hammering against your chest.

“I’m pretty sure that will be for you.” Bree grins, as you make your way past her, she hadn’t made any move to get up and open the door, not that you had expected her to.

“Brian, hi! Glad you found the place ok!” You smile, as you swing the door open, revealing the handsomely tall guitarist. You wave Brian inside, as you step away from the door, and further into your apartment. “I was worried you might get lost, or that John might forget to give you the napkin.”

“Ah, so that’s where he got the directions. He refused to explain where the napkin had come from. It was rather creepy actually, I thought perhaps he had been stalking you.” Brian grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

You take the moment that follows to allow your eyes to travel over his body, he looks incredible, though you doubt you would be complaining if he had shown up wearing a trash bag. Your eyes fall to his feet, and your face lights up. There, on his feet are a pair of pristine white clogs. Unaware t you, Brian had spent the same moment to look you over also, and he liked what he saw. The icing on the cake, however, was your choice in footwear.

“Are you wearing clogs?” You both ask simultaneously, laughing as you look at each other.

“They’re perfect for every situation, comfortable and practical!” You smile, as you collect your small, brown leather handbag from the kitchen counter, slipping it over your shoulder.

“I said pretty much the exact same thing to Freddie earlier today.”

“That settles it then.”

“settles what?”

“Great minds think alike!” You smile, as you link your arm through Brian’s, leading him out of the apartment. “Have a nice night Bree!”

Bree doesn’t have a chance to reply before the front door closes behind the two of you, and she finds herself unable to keep the grins off her lips. “They’re perfect for each other. The bridesmaids and groomsmen will all be forced to wear matching clogs.”

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