#anyway shane is so pissed you make him go down there but *does* have a good time.

[rambunctioustoons]

I think you should be able to take your spouse down to the mines in stardew. different abilities depending on who you take down.

[redspacegirl]

UPP OC BACKSTORY AND STUFF TIME!!! (plus occasional doodles)

plenty of this is spitballing, so i haven't fully cemented anything. it's all a bunch of yapping, so I'll put a tldr at the bottom to explain it in simpler terms lol. anyways,,,

Oakley moved to Deadwood when she was about 12. Right before the beginning of her 7th grade year. I feel like she definitely went down the fnaf to ghost hunting pipeline. I don't even know if that's a real pipeline, but it was for me. So she basically knew all the terms and stuff.

from what i can tell, upp was just a bunch of kids that liked ghost hunting, though ive seen the idea of all the kids in upp having ghost themed powers, kinda like wiwis but not as,,, wiwi. ill talk more about it later.

Despite knowing a bit about ghost hunting, Oakley would never have done it before. She lived in a highly populated area, not too far from the coast and one of Prime's big cities (I'm thinking near new haven, but NH might not be on the coast). There weren't any super old buildings in bike-riding distance for Oakley to explore. Plus one big thing with ghost hunting is that you dont! go! alone! (i'm really really tempted to make a post on how will maybe did this and it lead to him falling off a cliff. idk). Anyways, she's very skeptical of the actual existence of ghosts. This is one of the times I'm pulling out of my own life for that. If you've ever watched Buzzfeed Unsolved, she's Shane. She does think ghost hunting is very cool, however. (it makes sense to me, as a person who is a skeptic irl)

As I said earlier, she moved right before the beginning of 7th grade. She moved with her mom to live with her nana. There's a couple reasons for this. 1) Ol' nana silvia was up there in age, her mom wanted to keep an eye on her an all that. 2) If you can imagine, rent prices right outside of New Haven are expensive as fuck. And nothing beats the 2 acre backyard that Oakley's mother, Mae, grew up with. Like,,, sure the place was a little freaky, but that's most old places anyways.

So they move. Oakley is lowkey highkey pissed about the move. She understands, mostly, but she *really* doesn't want to move, obviously. Aside from the fact that she'd be leaving her friends behind, she's been on plenty of trips to Deadwood. That place is freaky. Mae convinces her that it's not really that bad, the house is old, it just needs some renovating.

obviously thats not the case. oakley continues being pretty much oblivious to the ghosts, blaming it on some weird noises or something until she finally comes face to face with one.

for my ideas on the whole ghost sight stuff. I like the idea that being able to see ghosts, even a little bit, is somewhat common in Deadwood. an idea i thought was funny is that Oakley could just,,, hear the ghosts *really* well. hence why she can be such a skeptic while everyone else is like "WHAT THE FUCK IS THTATTTTTT". otherwise, her being a ghost beacon would be really funny. like she walks in a room and the ghosts in said room are able to interact with people/objects or talk more. finally, she could just have normal sight idk.

Around the current point in PD, she's just graduated high school. I think she ended up staying in town for one reason or another. I have a few ideas. I think by the time she graduated, she still didn't fully know what she wanted to do, hence why she stayed home. She's currently 19 ish, taking college courses online while she keeps and eye on her mother and the nearby ghosts. She probably still hangs around the upp who stayed around. Probably will come up with more stuff in the future.

OTHER STUFF: -She skateboards, though Deadwood is a lot of gravel roads, so it's kind of difficult -draws a bunch. if you didn't see my other post about her, she draws on her pants and whatnot. -she paints her nails on occasion before forgetting about them and letting them chip before she repaints them months later -she was that kid that always said "im leaving this town right after i graduate." (me core) -indecisive as hell -can be pretty sarcastic, to the point it gets annoying sometimes. she tones it down as she gets older.

TLDR: Girl with ghost sight moves to live with her grandma in 7th grade, realizes she has some sort of ghost sight, shenanigans ensue.

[weretheones]

Daryl with inexperienced, gentle soul type reader (whose also a badass) headcanon pls 🥺 sorry you’re having a meh day…I feel ya 💕

daryl being with a soft, gentle soul is something so personal and beautiful to me because I really do think he needs that type of balance. he's grown up his whole life with this skewed mentality of 'love' and 'care', and we've seen how in earlier seasons he always equated softness to weakness. the idea of someone who stops on the road to pick flowers to tie into the little wisps of judith's blonde hair (with that knife he'd seen lodged into dozens of walker skulls at their hip, of course) breaking down that mentality and teaching him that softness can be strengthen just has me melting.

your tongue has never been quick or sharp, but every word you speak is meaningful. words aren't weapons to you, not like they were for his father or brother, and at first, it catches him off guard how honest and genuine you are. he wonders how someone like you, with your heart on your sleeve, could even hurt a fly, nevertheless a walker. how the hell did you make it this far, still as gentle and kind as before? he thinks its stupid when shane lets you go into atlanta, that he's sending you to your death. and when you come back, only to volunteer to bring merle back with him, he scoffs. you'd gotten out of the city alive once-- best not to push your luck.

when glenn gets taken, he sees the first hint of resilience in you. you don't give up. that idea, that softness was vulnerability, engrained in him since he could listen, seems to run contradictory to the very real and impressive example of you. shotgun in hand, even if you barely knew how to use it. even if you didn't want to.

after that, he finds his attention drawn to you in every discussion, watching the subtleties of your expression shift to your mood. he calls it curiosity, but soon enough he knows what every look means. he knows your quirks and the way you bite your lip when your uncertain-- he knows you.

he always second guessed himself before, never let himself believe that you liked him, that you had any reason to. and it might've taken a year of you showing him otherwise, over and over, but now, holding you in his arms as the soft morning light trickles into your shared cell, he knows it. he has no reason to doubt you, even if every memory of a mean dad and an absent brother told him otherwise. he's never known security like this until he met you <3 merle's affection and love was always conditional and temporary-- until he ran off for juvie or the military, until he skipped town again, until he met another doe-eyed and vulnerable girl. until, until, until... but you? he knows you're there after a long day, knows he can find you in alexandria's gardens or guard tower if you're not at home, knows you'll always be in bed before him. knows that even when you're pissed at him, you never hate him. that when you tell him you love him, you mean it.

anyway I just vomited like 500 words of this sorry <3<3 thank you for the ask & sympathies. I appreciate u more than you know. I hope u have a lovely day/night, cutie :)

[hannahssimblr]

We set up camp in the lingering pink light in a clearing behind the hump of a sand dune that separates us from the stretch of beach. Up here the sand has mixed with the pine needles. The charred sticks from someone else’s bonfire lie in a pile of ash on the forest floor, and we set up our tents to face it, and Shane and I clear some pieces of rubbish from around it while Jen and Joe collect some firewood to make a new one. 

The waves are loud now, up this close, and I look forward to falling asleep to the sound later. It reminds me of those CDs that Jen had to listen to the last time she saw a therapist, something about visualising each breath moving through one’s body with the fluidity of the ocean waves. I felt like a Buddhist monk afterwards but we both pretended that it was a stupid exercise because it felt weird to admit to being moved by something like a meditation CD.

Clóda goes to the top of the dunes and gazes toward the horizon, but I only notice her because Shane does. Then he notices me noticing him and throws a bottle of Lucozade, deliberately missing the pile of rubbish we’ve made and hitting my shin. It’s heavy and full of something that, though amber in colour, is definitely not Lucozade. 

“Are we alright, man?” I say while he stares at his feet like there is something highly interesting about the plastic bits on the end of his shoelaces. “Yeah, obviously, why?”

“Because you seem pissed off at me.”

“Dunno why you think that.”

“Just a feeling,” I pause, “And I had a run in with your sister earlier on, she seems a bit annoyed at me too, so I was just wondering was something said at home, or…”

He scoffs, “Kelly’s some thick. Don’t mind her.”

“Right, and you and me, we’re-”

“We’re fine, man.” He tosses the last of the rubbish aside and starts going through his bag with his back to me. I’m not satisfied. 

“Shane,” I come closer, “You know that if there’s weird shit between us then I just want to air it out, I’m not that good at conflict or anything, but like I just have this feeling that you’re not actually okay with…” I lower my voice, “...with how things panned out with Clóda and all.”

His shoulders stiffen, “No, I couldn’t give a shite about that.”

“Right…” 

“Sure I’d be used to that by now, wouldn’t I?” he bites out, “You going off with all the girls. What’s it to me?”

“Just if you liked her, you know?”

“Well I didn’t.”

“You didn’t.”

“Nah. Not bothered.”

“Well, like, you seem bothered, so-”

“Jude?” Clóda calls, the setting sun is in her face, “Do you want to go for a swim before it gets too dark?”

I sigh and turn back to Shane, “I’m not done with this.”

“Well I am. Just go swimming.”

I hesitate, but go to her, running to that mound atop the dune and she greets me with arms thrown around my neck. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I kiss her quickly and draw away to pull my top over my head, then take my socks and my shoes off and dump them in the grass. She takes her clothes off, and she’s not self conscious of herself but I try not to look too much anyway in case she thinks I’m the kind of boy who would get overly excited about seeing her in a bikini.

“Will it be cold?” She shivers as the sea breeze nips our warm skin, and I tell her that it will, of course it will.

“God, I don’t know then.”

“Well you can’t back out now.”

“No?”

“No,” and I scoop her off the ground and throw her over my shoulder, and she shrieks in protest as I carry her down the side of the dunes, across the beach and right into the water with me. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[starry-eyed-omo]

Your Shane fic is soooooo gooood can you do another one? Please please I BEG you

Mb in pelican town they piss only at home or in jars or lakes rivers (where no such thing as a toilet in the game you know)

And sitting next to river and hold it because they need to piss at home yes

Nonnie... I have been thinking about this ask so much since I first got it and i so wanted to make a fic for you because I have so many ideas but man. man. sometimes words just don't want to happen, so I thought at the very least I'd share the thoughts you spurred for me!! I hope you enjoy 💜

Imagine a new farmer oc comes to town without knowing the bathroom situation there; there's not a bathroom in their house, but they figure, hey, the place is old and run down, so maybe it was an outhouse that got destroyed ages ago or something. They're broke and have a lot of other priorities, like, y'know, surviving, and especially considering they live in the middle of nowhere and it's not like there's a lack of privacy, they don't see the harm in waiting a bit to get some no doubt expensive plumbing installed! They make do with the woods, and for a while, don't really question much. So much of their time is spent exploring, fixing up the farm, and running errands, that majority of the time if they have to take a piss, it's nowhere that would feasibly have a bathroom anyways.

It isn't until they're more settled in that they realize something is off. Or, well, something directly pertaining to the bathrooms, at least. (There's a lot of weird things in town, so they've gotten used to not questioning it.)

One night at the saloon, they drink a little too much while hanging out with their friends, and realize that they don't actually know where the bathroom is at the saloon. They slide up to Sebastian and ask, but get a weird look in return, followed by a hesitant laugh, as if he's not quite sure if they're joking or not. When he realizes that they are, in fact, being quite serious, considering the way they're staring at him with a serious urgency while unable to sit still, there's more disbelief than anything. After all, how does one go months in the town without ever realizing no one uses bathrooms around here?

He realizes pretty quickly though that if the farmer never thought to ask, no one around here probably thought to tell. It's a bit of an unspoken rule, as there was a sort of shame in someone else catching you relieving yourself. Somehow, they hadn't quite managed to escape that aspect of societal norms.

Most people just considered it one of the odd quirks of the town and shrug it off, so he suggested they do the same.

The problem is, however, the farmer hadn't exactly planned to have to find somewhere private to relieve themselves that night. The walk home is an excruciating one, until the dams finally burst near the bus station and they just let it all out right there on the path.

When Sebastian asks the next time they meet if the farmer got home all right, they reassure him that everything was fine, but the blush on their face says otherwise, and they know it's not something they're going to forget anytime soon.

Whether that's because of sheer embarrassment or because they can't stop thinking that they'd like to experience that again, well... I'll leave that one up to you ;3

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Walsh

PART ONE:

Warning: smut, violence, gore, breaking and entering, sarcasm. So much swearing. Mentions of Shane c*ck.

Kennedie Gunner was Lori’s best friend throughout high school as Shane was Rick’s best friend. The two often saw a lot of each other, more than Kennedie appreciated most days. She lived down the street a little ways from Rick and Lori, and visited every chance she got. She and Lori would spend nights together if Rick was pulling a double, as Lori never felt safe alone.

“Morning Kennie! Hey, Rick’s planning a little backyard barbeque if you’re interested.” Lori smiles as she pats the seat next to her. “You want to go grocery shopping with me?” She asks, flicking the list on the table.

“Sure!” The Gunner woman cheers, grabbing her small purse and leaving out behind Lori. Carl had gone to his friend’s house for the night, excited to kick off summer.

“So first stop is the liquor store. You want to make mimosas? Or?” The brunette asks as they drive towards town.

“Whatever you want. I’ll buy booze, Lo.” The blonde offers with a smile. Lori nods in acceptance because she knows Kennedie will fight dirty to the end. As they make a right, too busy talking that Lori forgets a turn signal, a police car lights the two up and Lori groans.

“Mornin’ ladies.” That voice could make Kennedie’s blood boil.

“Morning, Officer Walsh, Officer Grimes, what did I do?” Lori asks, rolling her eyes and giggling. Kennedie wasn’t giggling.

"Miss Gunner, you still look stunningly pissed off, as per usual.” Shane calls across to her, giving her a nod.

“And you still look like a douchebag, Walsh.” She snorts, rolling her eyes as she gives him a sarcastic smile.

“Always a pleasure, Ken.” He nods, pushing back his short curls.

“Yeah, never is.” She bites, flipping him the bird.

“Anyways, gals. I noticed you didn’t use a turn signal back there.” He drawls, and Lori giggles to Kennedie with a smile on her face.

“Jesus christ, Shane. Why don’t you go do some actual police work instead of hitting on your married partner’s wife!” She jabs, and Shane stalks to the other side of the car.

“Is that illegal drugs I smell?” He asks, popping open the door and unbuckling her. “Stop out of the car, ma’am. You don’t have any weapons or drug paraphernalia on ya, right?”

“No. I don’t, asshole.” She nips, letting Shane kick her ankles apart.

“Guess I’d better check, huh?” He asks, pushing his hands down her body roughly. A shiver breaks through her and she sucks in a breath. It doesn’t go unnoticed as he steps away. “Must be the smell lingering in the car, huh? You ladies have a great day. I’ll see y’all tonight.” He chuckles, sashaying back to the car like he hadn’t made the hair on her neck stand up.

“Bye Shane! Bye honey!” Lori calls as they head towards the store. “You two love to rile each other up. You get him going, then he gets you going; it’s hilarious honestly.”

“I can’t stand that awful man. He’s so fuckin’ annoying. He walks around like his penis could save the human race. News flash, buddy! It’s probably nothin’ special!” She berates as she heads into the store with Lori.

As she and Lori finish up dinner, she quickly jogs to the bathroom to change into shorts and a bikini top. Lori had said they’d swim if it killed them. The sweet brunette meets her at the sliding glass door in her bikini and two mimosas in her hands.

“Girl, yes.” She heaves, slipping a glass from her hand and taking a sip.

“Hey, so question. Rick and I were to vacation would you be okay to watch Carl? It’d only be a weekend. Rick wants to go away for our fifth anniversary but he wants a little escape.” Lori’s cheeks flame cherry red.

“I’d love to!” She cheers, patting Lori’s knee before they both find their way into the pool. Getting settled into some floats, sunglasses on, and mimosas in hand, the two women float around the pool.

“Fire in the hole!” Shane’s deep voice carries through the breezeway before he jumps off the deck, landing directly on her float and sending her careening into the pool, mimosa soaring through the air.

“Walsh!” She yells as she comes up for air. Swimming over to him, she grabs his neck and drives him under the water. He allows her to try for another minute longer before he physically stands up and drags her out of the water with him. As she huffs and tries to swim away, his finger expertly hooks her bikini top and tugs. As she starts to stand up, her breasts are on full display for him and she gives a shriek. “You are such a pig!” She cries, face flaming red from embarrassment as she scoops her top from the water and ties it on.

“Damn, why such a prude baby? That was probably the first time another man ever saw your tits!” He calls, mockinggly gripping at the air like a pair of breasts.

“Dammit Shane. You’re always such a bully.” Rick groans as Lori heads in after her.

“She’s just sore, that’s all. She’s too closed off.” Shane gripes as he sits with Rick to drink a beer.

“Either way, listen. Me and Lori are going away for our fifth anniversary, okay? And Kennie’s in charge of Carl, but will you just check up twice a day? Sometimes he gets to be a lot for one person, yeah?”

Shane’s eyes meet Rick’s and he snorts a little.

“Rick, she’s a grown woman.”

“Yeah, but you gotta at least watch the lights, man. Women can’t shut off lights. Also, go say sorry, man.” Rick jabs a lazy finger at the larger man who only chuckles in response.

“What? Nah, man. She’s a grown woman.” He laughs, taking another drink. Rick finishes dinner on the grill and the four adults sit down to eat in the dim glow of the sting lights.

“Sorry, Ken. I’m sorry for earlier. I did not know you were a sensitive little girl.” He snorts, she grabs a piece cheese and tosses it at him. He just laughs, snatching it and sticking it to her bare chest.

“Don’t you have ass waiting for you, Walsh?” She nips.

“Nah, you wanna be?” He licks his bottom lip and wiggles his brows at he.

“A comedian? That’s very impressive. A sheriff. An asshole. And a comedian. You must be a popular man at parties.” She nods, throwing her head back in laughter.

“That’s right.” He nods, giving her his big, gorgeous smile he used on other women, and for a millisecond, he thought he saw a flash of something more behind those sarcastic, rolling eyes.

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna head home you guys. Thank you for dinner! I’ll be over Thursday night then?” She asks as she rises from the table. Shane rises as well to Rick and Lori’s surprise.

“Can I walk you home? It’s dark.” He states, giving Rick a little smile.

“Are you really that much of a lightweight? No you’re not walking me home.” She nips, shoving him away as he steps closer to her.

“Good night, Kennie.” He coos, waving goodbye.

“Shut up, Walsh.” She grabs her purse and heads for the door. Lori does follow, giving her a big hug and offering to see her Thursday.

“Yeah, we plan on leaving Thursday night when Carl gets home from school.” Lori talks as she walks with her best friend out the door.

“Got it! I’ll pack my stuff then and see you guys Thursday!” She cheers as she heads down the street. A car circles her but drives away. Finding it odd, she grabs her pepper spray that Walsh had forced her to take a few years ago.

“Weird.” She states as she goes in and shuts the door. Turning on her alarm system, she double checks the windows before heading to bed.

Thursday morning comes and she packs her suitcase before loading into her car. Driving down the street to Rick and Lori’s, she pulls in behind Rick and Shane’s cruiser. A moment of realization hits when she sees Walsh in the passenger seat eating fries.

Ducking down under his view, she tries her best to hide but when she hears the door click open and shut she sits up and gives him her best unimpressed face.

“Good morning, you prude. What are you here so early for? Rick and Lori are probably gettin’ it on, so I might suggest not going in there. Unless you’re into that. We could have an orgy on the couch.” Shane wiggles his brows, giving her a stupid grin.

“I’m not orgying with anyone who tries to hit on me with ketchup on their face like a man child.” She laughs, shoving at him as she gets out and grabs her suitcase.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He asks as he slips the case from her hands and carries it to the door. Her hands go for the handle, but Lori’s greeting interupts her.

“I don’t hate you. Dislike? Oh yeah. Hate? Uhm, no.” She answers as Lori meets her at the door with a wild grin.

“Come in!” She cheers, swinging open the door. Shane snatches her suitcase and carries it in for her.

“Walsh? You okay?” She asks, looking to him with confusion written across her face.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re being nice and I want to throw up.” Kennedie nips at him, raising her brows.

“Because the confused look on your face is worth it.” He snorts, dropping it onto the couch. A little black piece of lace sticks out so far that he hooks it with his index finger and gives her a wink.

“Shit, you wanna put ‘em on? Show me how they look?”

“Oh, Christ. Fuck off.” She barks, snatching the black panties from his finger and stuffing them into the bag before storming away from him. His laugh carries, egging her on. For a split second, Shane could imagine her in those black lace panties and his breath hitched.

“I guess Rick and I are gonna head out a little early since you and Shane are here. Shane offered to get Carl from school today and tomorrow. Didn’t you?” Lori asks with a very prominent nod.

“Yeah, I figured why not. Carl likes the cruiser better than your Honda anyway.” He prods, licking his lips again, hand running over his mouth and stubble. Of course Kennedie could tell what she was doing.

“I bet. I bet you use Carl to pick up girls on your way here too, don’t ya?”

“Yeah, it ain’t worked on you yet, you grannie.” He digs, winking at her before he tugs on his utility belt. “Some of us have to work, so. I’ll get Carl from school, try to be decent when we get back.” He prods, jabbing a finger at the lace panties still in her hand. “Carl doesn’t need to see that stuff.” Balling them up, she throws them at Shane, watching them hook onto a button on his uniform.

“Shut it, Walsh.” She nips, snatching her panties away once more before heading to the living room to put them in her suitcase.

“You two enjoy each other’s company! Thanks again!” Lori calls as she and Rick barrel out the door to their car.

“Enjoy your company? That’ll be the day.” She huffs, flipping on the TV to a music channel. Shane hadn’t noticed he was staring until she looks up from cleaning up the living room.

“Why do you hate me?” He asks softly, leaning his hip against the door jam as he cards through his thick, dark curls.

“Because you treat women like objects. They only need three essential things and none of them are a personality or a heart.” She offers as she puts the books on the shelf and stacks his toys in a bin.

“I’m not as bad as you think.”

“You left Rick’s christmas party last year with one of Lori’s friends. You left Fourth of July, broke Carl’s heart, because he wanted Shane to go to the fireworks with him, because of pussy. You left the Labor Day party for pussy. You left Carl’s fifth birthday for pussy. So I love that you’re trying to connect with me for some weird reason, but Shane? You only have one thing on your mind and I won’t be a notch in that stupid utility belt.” She states matter-of-factly as she wipes down the counter.

“You’re just jealous.”

“No I’m not and it pisses you off. You can’t get to me and it bothers you doesn’t it? I’m the one woman in the entire world who isn’t drooling over your dick.” She chuckles as she wipes down the couple dishes in the sink.

“I’m really not into you. Somewhere in that sick little mind you’ve created this fantasy that I’m in love with you.” He points to his own temple as if to signal she’s crazy.

“Oh sure, I did. I heard you hold your breath when you saw those black panties. Somewhere in that sick little brain of yours, you’re imagining what I look like in those. Don’t ya?” She asks, giving him a dirty smirk. Storming up against her, he gets in her face and she doesn’t back down.

“You bet. And all you think about is that Walsh dick. Right? You want some?” He growls, his body against hers.

“No thank you, Shane. But I appreciate the offer.” She coos, giving him a sweet smile before slipping past him. “Bye! See you in a couple hours!” She calls as he storms out the house.

As she hears a car pull in the driveway, she looks out to see Shane and Carl grinning and laughing, Carl’s face covered in blue around his mouth. Heading out the front door to greet them, a stern look as her arms cross over her chest.

“OH shoot. Run little man. Kennie’s mad!” He grabs Carl’s hand, trying to run away.

“You two get in here. Shane! He had ice cream?” She whines, waving to the blue stain around his mouth.

“It was only a little. We shared one scoop.” He offered.

“Carl, are you hungry for dinner? There’s enough for you too, Walsh.” She states as she leads Carl into the house and wipes off his face.

“You wanna wipe off my face too?” Shane calls. She just huffs, rolling her eyes as she sets a couple plates down.

“Are you eating?” She asks, eyes never leaving the chicken on the stove.

“Can I trust her cookin’?” He whispers loudly to Carl, catching her attention.

“Yeah. She’s a good cooker.” Carl assures in a loud whisper.

“A’right. I’ll stay.” He nods like he’s doing her a favor and sits at the table, unclipping his utility belt and hanging it over the chair. They eat in silence, not much to say.

“At school today, this girl told me that she thinks I’m cute. I told her what you say uncle Shane. Cute’s my middle name.” He giggles, “and then she kissed me on the cheek uncle Shane!” He cheers, earning a hand shake and a laugh from the large man.

“Oh that’s great, Walsh.” She chimes, giving him a dark look.

“Nice job.” He smiles, patting Carl’s head. Forking a chunk of chicken into his mouth, he moans at the delicious flavor and when she looks across to him confused he just nods to Carl, “you were right. Good cooker.” Shane nods, talking with his mouth full.

They finish their meal in quiet, Shane shooting Carl funny faces every now and again, making him giggle.

“Thanks for dinner.” He nods as he rises to his feet, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.

“No problem.” She smiles, grabbing the dishes up and heading to the sink.

“Hey Aunt Kennie?” Carl asks, looking to her as he brings his plate over in two little ketchup-covered hands. “Momma says you and uncle Shane won’t date a’cause you’re too stubborn. What does stubborn mean?” He asks, looking up holding his plate.

“Me and uncle Shane can’t date because he’s a womanizer, okay?” She explains, putting his plate into the sink with the other two. Shane coughs, drawing attention to himself. “What?” She asks very plainly.

“You can’t tell a five year old that his uncle is a womanizer.” He retorts.

“I just did.”

“What’s a womanizer?” Carl asks, looking to Kennedie for the answer.

“It’s when a guy treats women, not nice.” She improvises, deciding ‘like toys’ wasn’t the best answer.

“Oh, uncle Shane can’t be a woman fighter, he’s too nice. He changed an ol’ girl’s tire the other day.” Carl responds, holding out his hands to be washed.

“Not a woman fighter, hun, a womanizer.” She chuckles, looking over her shoulder to see Shane laughing softly to himself.

“Uncle Shane, are you taking me to school tomorrow?” Carl asks as she wipes away the ketchup from his hands and fingers.

“Sure, bud. I’ll be here at seven-thirty, okay?” He asks, crouching down to Carl level. Carl nods, hugging the officer before letting Shane rise to his feet and head to the door.

“See you in the morning, Walsh. And don’t be early. I’m not a morning person.” She nips, jabbing a finger at him.

“So six is good then?” He asks as he walks out the door and closes it behind him.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Reflecting Light

Chapter One

Chapter Seven:

Roman was pretty sure flying was something he wasn’t going to get sick of anytime soon.  How could anyone get sick of looking so far into the horizon?  They flew for a couple days before Shane told him they had to land and investigate this town and restock, and Roman absolutely adored every second of it.  He got up every morning and got to watch the sunrise with no obstacles in his way.  He got to see more constellations at night than he ever had before, which he was absolutely bragging to Logan about later.  He could stand near the front of the ship and feel the wind on his face.  Shane was clearly amused by the way that it all amazed Roman, but it was too wonderful an experience for Roman to really be bothered by it.

When they finally landed for the first time it was in a town that Janus Picani apparently stopped often in.  Shane was docking the ship when Roman decided to bring up what he was thinking about.  He headed over to stand behind Shane.  “Sir?” he asked hesitantly.

“Roman, if you call me sir for the next two months I’m going to lose my mind,” Shane said as he glanced backwards.  “Just use my name for now.”

“Okay, Shane,” Roman said, even more hesitantly.  “I don’t think we should wear our Light uniforms while we ask for information.”

Shane gave him a suspicious look, and Roman took a step back.  “Why would we do that?”

“Well, um,” Roman put his hands behind his back so he could fidget as he spoke.  “When we first left no one was being very cooperative until I covered the Light symbol on my shirt with Patton’s hoodie.  I think people might be more willing to help if we didn’t tell them we’re from The Light.”

Shane gave him a look like he was being an idiot.  “There’s a Light insignia on the side of the ship, Roman.  Anyone who sees us stepping off is going to see we’re from The Light.”

“Well, yeah, but the people in town—”

“Roman, if you want to wear a cat hoodie everywhere, you be my guest.  I intend to have a little pride in the place where I’m from.”

“Oh, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“We don’t have all morning to argue anyway, Roman.” Shane finished docking the boat and turned around.  “I’ll ask around here at the docks.  You can go talk to people in town.  We’ll cover more ground that way.  Can you be back here in a couple hours?”

Roman nodded.  “I can do that.”

“Excellent.  I’ll see you then.”

Roman grabbed his cat hoodie from his bag and slipped it on as he walked away from the ship.  He headed into the town, waving back to a couple people who waved to him.  One young child came up to him and happily told him she liked his cat hoodie.

“Thank you,” Roman said, smiling brightly at her.

“Sweety, we don’t bother strangers,” said a woman who must have been the girl’s mother, as she walked up to her.

“Oh, she’s fine,” Roman said, waving off her concerns.  “This hoodie belongs to a dear friend of mine, he made it himself and I’m using it while I’m traveling.  Here, I could write down a list of the materials he used.”  Roman pulled out a notebook and wrote down what Patton had used to make the hoodie, and handed it to the girl’s mother.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile.  “My husband is excellent at making clothes, I’m sure this would be no trouble for him.”

“I get a cat hoodie?” the little girl exclaimed happily.  “Thank you, mister!”  She threw herself around Roman’s leg, and he laughed.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he said, ruffling her hair.  “I would stay and try to help make it, but unfortunately I’m on a bit of a desperate journey at the moment.  I’m looking for my brother.  We’re identical twins, so he looks just like me.  He’s also traveling with Janus and Virgil Picani.”

“Oh, you should ask Remy then,” the woman said, pointing across the street.  “They delivered to his shop about a week ago.  And I highly recommend his Coffee.  He finally got it to work.”

“I wanna try his Coffee!” the little girl complained.

“He says it’s not for kids, sweetheart,” the woman said, patting her child on the shoulder.  “Good luck on catching up with your brother.”

“Thank you.  I hope your husband does well with that hoodie!” Roman called, waving as the two walked away and heading towards the shop across the street.

A bell jingled over the door as Roman opened it, and a man at the counter glanced up.  “Hey babes, what can I help you— oh.  What are you doing back here, Remus?”

“You’ve seen him?” Roman said, brightening.  “Oh, sorry, that was weird.  Remus is my twin brother.”

The man, who must have been Remy, nodded in understanding.  “Oh, gotcha.  Oh, I see it now, no mustache.”

“Yeah.  Thanks,” Roman muttered, resisting the urge to rub at the spot over his lip.  That had always bugged him.  Why did only Remus get a mustache, they were identical twins.  “Do you know which direction he went?  I’m trying to find him.”

“He left without telling you?” Remy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh.  He was in trouble,” Roman said.  “Someone back home was threatening him.  I’m trying to find him because the problem’s been taken care of now.”

Remy nodded slightly.  “Yeesh.  No wonder he had that panic attack.  Babe’s gotta be under a ton of stress.”

Roman’s mouth went dry.  “What happened?” he asked.

“Oh shoot, you probably didn’t know that,” Remy said, laughing a little awkwardly.  “Yeah, that happened.  Don’t worry, he’s fine.  Virgil and Janus showed up after like a minute.  Good thing too, I had no clue what to do.  Hey, while you’re here, you want some Coffee—”

“Do you know which way they went?” Roman asked hurriedly.

Remy gave him a confused look.  “Yeah.  They’re making their rounds?  I think they’re coming back here in three months or so with more supplies for my Coffee.  Oh, and weapons I guess.”

“I don’t have three months,” Roman said, still a little stuck on the panic attack part.  Virgil and Janus showed up.  Roman wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but Remus could be hard to deal with during panic attacks.  And if he was being kept prisoner, Janus and Virgil the rebellion members probably didn’t care too much about that.  Was this Remy person really so heartless that he wouldn’t care what they did as long as they took Remus away?  Why the hell did everyone hate people from The Light so much?  “I need to find him as quickly as possible.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Remy said with a shrug.  “You can follow their travel route.  Do you want to buy some Coffee or not?”

Roman sighed.  “Alright,” he said.  “I’ll try some Coffee.”

Remy smiled brightly and walked into a back room, likely to get whatever the hell Coffee was.  He came back out a second later with a mug of some kind of dark liquid and passed it over to Roman.  “First try is free,” he said.  “Every following cup is ten each.”

Roman took a moment to consider how full of himself that made Remy sound as he picked up the mug and took a sip.

He immediately pulled back.  “Fuck that’s bitter,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.  I’m debating adding sugar.  But the drink should wake you up.  Give it a couple minutes.”

“Uh-huh,” Roman said, taking another drink just to avoid pissing Remy off.  He drank a couple more mouthfuls, which was about all he could stand, before he passed the cup back to Remy with a thanks for the drink and his help, as if either were particularly valuable.  At least he knew Remus had been here.

He pulled off his cat hoodie once he arrived back at the docks.  Shane was waiting over by the boat, and stood up from where he was leaning against a crate as Roman approached.

“Roman, finally.  Help me load these crates on board.”

“Sorry, this shopkeeper wanted me to try his shitty drink,” Roman said, wrinkling his nose.  “It was so incredibly bitter, I do not recommend it.”

“Noted,” Shane said, raising his eyebrows.  “Did you manage to get any information?”

“Oh, yeah, that same shopkeeper had seen Remus,” Roman said, moving to pick up a crate.  “He’s apparently a frequent stop when Janus and Virgil are making rounds.  He still wouldn’t say any of the travel path out loud, though.”

Roman carried the crate on board and set it down with an irritated sigh.  His least favorite thing about the outside world so far was that everyone seemed to know about Janus and Virgil Picani’s travel route but never said it out loud.  It was like they expected him to know it.

Roman gave that a moment of thought.  Maybe they did all know it.  They probably just refused to mention it around Light soldiers.  It would certainly make sense with how uncooperative they all were.  God, he couldn’t imagine how awful it was for Remus to have no idea where he was.  If he was a prisoner they probably wouldn’t even let him see the stars.  He must be so disoriented.

Roman finished carrying the rest of the crates on board as Shane bought them both some lunch, noting how they should have at least one fresh meal before they had to start eating out of crates again.  Roman sat on the far side of the ship and ate his sandwich while looking out at the sea.

Shane sat down next to him after a moment.  “You alright, kid?”

“I’m… worried,” Roman admitted.  “And pissed.  I’m not really sure who to direct that second one at yet.  I don’t want to think Remus is a traitor.”

“But a lot of signs are pointing that direction?” Shane asked, sounding surprisingly sympathetic.

Roman glanced over at him.  He didn’t really want to think about it.  He tried to think about Remus as a prisoner because it was the better alternative.

…Right?

“It’s alright,” Shane said.  “He’s your brother.  It’s natural to care about him.  Even if he turns out to be a traitorous screw-up.  As usual,” Shane finished the last part in a mutter, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

Roman sighed.  “I know the kind of reputation my brother has, okay?  Believe me.”  He took a bite of his own sandwich.  “But I don’t think he’d betray anyone.  He tries really hard.  He’s just… accident prone.”

Shane chuckled.  “Tries really hard, huh?  I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Roman sighed.  He doubted he was actually going to get anywhere in this conversation.  Most people didn’t really seem to believe in Remus, and he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t make it hard for him to believe in Remus sometimes.  He loved his brother, and he wasn’t going to start out by believing that Remus was a traitor, but the idea that he was kidnapped by two high ranking rebellion members didn’t seem to make a ton of sense.

He supposed it didn’t really matter in the long run.  He was going to get Remus back either way, it was just whether or not he would hug the living daylights out of him or smack him upside the head that was yet to be determined.

Roman ate the last of his sandwich and looked up towards the sky, trying to puzzle out the way he was feeling.  He didn’t really get anywhere before Shane said they had to go, and he stood up to go help fly the ship.

Chapter Eight

[harvestdew]

Hi! could you talk more about Kiki's friendship with Haley, and Cleo's friendship with Linus? They seem to have a cool dynamic :D

OMG of course i actually have a whole post here but i love haley so i will ALWAYS elaborate on anything about her ^_^ i’m sorry if this isn’t long i’m on my last week of school + finals

haley + kiki dynamic

i’ve already said this before but haley is one of my favorites because i enjoy her development. i think that mean girl with issues turned best friend is one of my favorite tropes and works with haley really well, and kiki works really well in terms of breaking the tough girl exterior because she’s WAY nicer than cleo (probably why haley takes longer to get around to liking cleo even though they’re dating)

haley didn’t get around to liking kiki that fast - i mentioned this in another post but kiki stayed in pelican town around middle school - freshman year, but she couldn’t have been that close to haley because i think haley gives me 19-20 year old vibes and kiki is 23. if she was a 13 year old in middle school, haley would be 9-10 and they wouldn’t be in the same grade. given i’ve finally nailed down their ages after writing that post i wouldn’t have kiki crush on haley to overcompensate for ME wanting to marry her, i have cleo who is haley’s age

SO why does haley come around to liking kiki? when kiki first moves back to pelican town, haley is kinda nosey and tries to figure out why someone would move away from the city without showing much interest. she’s also distrustful being haley, so it doesn’t really seem like it’s going anywhere. kiki also doesn’t get haley’s deal until emily (who she befriends faster) tells her it’s not haley’s fault she’s insecure, so she starts to feel bad for haley. but i feel like haley isn’t really won over by a lot of gifts even though kiki probably gifted her daffodils or expensive clothing she doesn’t want anymore. the only actual tipping point is when (in my funny little universe) kiki found haley crying over ALEX (no shade to him, but he does avoid haley and tells you not to tell her where he is) and talked to her about how she feels like everyone thinks she’s shallow. the whole convo ends with haley figuring “oh she’s not that bad,” warming up to her, and them becoming best friends

i also like to think kiki is just as overprotective of haley as she is over her but just not overtly. she has a pretty bad impression of alex for a number of reasons, but 1 of the biggest contenders is the haley thing. she gets defensive or mad when sebastian, abigail, sam, EVEN SHANE points out incorrect stuff about haley because it’s annoying when people make assumptions about haley

kiki does try really hard to bridge the gap between sebastian and haley, but their differences seem so disparate that it feels like she’s trying to make a bird and a cat friends. it doesn’t stop her from trying to and they both hate it like it’s the worst experience in their lives until they learn to tolerate each other

haley seems like a good cook, so she bakes with kiki frequently to spend quality time together. sometimes kiki also hangs out with haley by the river so she can forage/fish (before cleo comes to take over fishing) while haley takes pictures. when she unlocks the movies, she also takes haley a lot. i’m 100% sure that kiki hangs out with haley the most out of ALL of the villagers including sebastian because haley is less of a homebody

haley gave up on figuring out what kiki’s beef was w/ joja and zuzu city until she accidentally finds out. haley convinced her to go shopping in a district in zuzu city without knowing kiki is technically a missing person, and kiki only went because haley really wants to. like she figured, okay i dress differently and my hair is dyed, it’s fine. also, it’s some random shopping district where rich people wouldn’t go. they hit a department store anyway until kiki, being paranoid, freaked out because she thought she saw her mom and hid in a bathroom. but haley, feeling bad for her, bought kiki a hat and sunglasses to cover her so they could go back home, then figured out what happened afterwards

tl;dr: haley for best friend of the year. she is what she is and eric barone should let me rewrite her

linus + cleo dynamic

this one seems weird (?) probably as weird as kiki and shane being friends. cleo being 19 and linus being an old man seems like they’re on opposite sides of the spectrum and she’d probably hate him. in actuality linus is 1 of the first people she befriends. she gifts him the fastest, and rather than willy teaching her, linus helps her get better at fishing

cleo frequents fishing at the mountain lake more because it’s less boring. linus stands by the river at certain times of the day and she fishes according to that schedule so they can chat or she can drop food off at his tent

also if it wasn’t obvious, cleo’s 100 times harder to befriend than kiki. she’s rude asf and has an issue with being blunt, plus she thinks everyone around her only gives a fuck abt themselves. but if you’ve played the game you can tell linus is a nice old man, minds his business, etc., right off the bat. it’s his down-to-earth attitude and non-judgmental advice that makes him the least annoying and she takes his wise advice SUPER seriously. so instead of hating linus, he’s a positive grandpa/dad figure in her life

and whenever haley + cleo get married (FAR future they’re both 19 and 20), she is probably not going to invite her dumb as balls dad to walk her down the aisle, it’s 100% going to be linus. he’s probably the only old person in the valley besides evelyn that she thinks wouldn’t be awful about her being a lesbian

also, cleo is not out to her family, prior friends, or really anyone before stardew valley. she doesn’t trust her parents, actually dates a former male bandmate to stop speculation, and thinks it’ll be negatively publicized if she does. cleo might exude sapphic energy, but she doesn’t say anything about her sexuality when she runs away either. it’s not that she feels particularly unsafe with kiki or even sam (her best friend) knowing it either, but she just feels like she’s better off never saying anything. linus, oddly enough, is the person who talks cleo through dealing with this

and b/c linus gives me super “got his shit together” and calm energy, which levels out cleo’s impulsivity and anger streaks. it’s probably not a good idea to bring this up to abigail and sam because they’d hype her up more and she’s just go ballistic. so if alex pisses her off, linus gets her to cool down. she could be annoyed because pierre side-eyed her and linus would say 5 words to make her stop fuming

i also really like the headcanon that linus used to be like? a huge business CEO whatever and gave it up to live in the nature. cleo would hear that and be like are you fr? that’s so cool. i too hate capitalism

what’s even weirder is linus definitelyyyy goes to cleo’s band performances as moral support. no one knows why this old man is hanging out at a venue with young adults, but cleo says it is what it is and it’s no one’s business

anyway that’s it for now! this was a fun exercise/break for me, thank you sm for asking!!! i always have fun doing these

[walkerismychoice]

Unwritten - Chapter 3

Book: Platinum

Pairing: M!Raleigh X MC

Rating: This series will contain mature themes. Any necessary warnings will be listed before each chapter, but the overall series rating is 18+

Series Summary: Newly discovered talent Aria Campbell get unknowingly assigned to help write Raleigh Carerra’s latest album and rehabilitate his image in the process.

Summary:  Aria is ready to start writing. Raleigh? Not so much.

Chapter Warning: Hints at excessive drinking/alcohol abuse

Word Count: 1750

Master List

She should really go back out there and try to start writing. They only have six weeks to write enough songs to fill an entire album. Then again, six weeks is kind of a long time. What’s a little bit longer?...

Aria picks up the flip phone from her nightstand. She would just text, because who actually likes to talk on the phone anymore, but texting without a keyboard is hardly worth the effort. Seriously, why do they still make cell phones like this? Her finger hovers over the call button momentarily, and then makes the call.

Several rings go by before Aria hears an agitated voice on the end of the other end of the line. "How many times do I have to tell you to take me off your list? How can my car warranty be expired when I don't even own a car?"

"Shane! Wait, don't hang up," Aria pleads into the phone. "It's me!"

"Aria? What are you-" His angry tone gives way to confusion. "Whose number is this and where are you? Wait, are you doing your writing thing? Tell me who you are writing with - is it Avery Willshire?"

If only, she think to herself, hesitating a moment before replying. "I can't tell you that. It's in my contract. If it were to get out, they'd kill me."

"Who are they, the mob?" Shane chuckles. "How many years have we been friends? You know you can trust me. And besides, I had to sign an NDA to be on your contact list, if you go down. I'm going down with you."

"Well that's reassuring," she answers dryly. Sure Shane's in film school and could be the next big director, but as of right now he's unknown, and Aria's got a lot more to lose. But he's right. They tell each other everything and she knows she can trust him. "Fine. But you can't tell anyone."

"Promise."

Aria inhales sharply. “It's...Raleigh Carrera."

"No fucking way!" Shane practically screams into the phone. "Binge drinking, property destroying, R&B singing Raleigh Carrera? You writing for him is...unexpected."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." She replies dryly.

“Ari, you know what I mean. You're more indie pop, with meaningful lyrics. He sings about getting laid in the club. You've never so much as had a tardy at school, and he's got quite the bad boy reputation.”

"Yes, Shane, I know I'm a boring, wholesome girl from the Midwest.”

“No, no! I just don’t want you to have to sacrifice your integrity. It can’t be easy to make sure your voice is heard with with someone like that.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” Aria asserts trying more to convince herself than anyone else. It’s not like she hasn’t feared what Shane has said and more ever since she got here. But she’s determined to fake it until she makes it as they say.

"I know you are. I've seen it in action - like when you dumped that smoothie on Chad's head because he made a comment about your ass."

"Oh my god. I can't believe I didn't get fired for that." Aria laughs genuinely for probably the first time today.

They continue on their path down memory lane until Aria's cheeks hurt from smiling, and she finally says goodbye.

 "Maybe I should just call mom first," she ponders out loud before thinking better of it. Things ended on a high note with Shane, and she doesn't need get all homesick and weepy right now. She supposes it's time to face the music - literally.

Aria peeks in the open doorway across the hall, and Raleigh's room is empty. She checks the main areas downstairs, but all is quiet. Finally she looks out the the beachside picture window to see a human form spread out on the sand.

As she heads out and towards the beach, she makes out a familiar object next to Raleigh and rolls her eyes. Apparently he has no plans to fully sober up before starting to drink again.

His eyes are closed as she approaches, and when she calls out his name, he doesn't stir. She won't shake him awake because that feels a touch too intimate for someone she just met. Especially someone of his status, lying their shirtless in the sand, a sheen of sweat glazing over the tattoos covering his neck and torso. Ugh stop ogling him, she thinks to herself. You hate tattoos and he's an ass. Aria grabs the bottle of rum and jabs him in the side.

"Huh?" Raleigh jolts upright and frantically looks whips his head around until he gets his bearings. "Oh, it's you." He grabs the bottle from her and takes long swig.

"Bacardi straight from the bottle in the middle of the day? Doing your best to live up to the cliché rockstar lifestyle, huh?” She immediately regrets the words and wonders if she went too far.  

He shrugs it off with a laugh and points the bottle at her. "Want some?"

"No." She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. Sipping straight out of the bottle is not her style. Not to mention they're supposed to be working and she prefers to write with a clear head.

"I guess Learning How to Party Like a Rock Star 101 is not part of a music major’s curriculum. You could use some real-world instruction from Professor Carrera." Raleigh teases.

"Haha, very funny.” Wait, how does he know she majored in music? Probably just a lucky guess. "Anyway, I came out here to see if you wanted to get started."

"Nah, I'm good." He takes another pull from the bottle. "I like to write when the mood strikes. If you're so moved though, feel free to whip something up on your own. I really don't give a shit what's on this crap album anymore."

Her blood is boiling now, and she fights a juvenile urge to kick sand in his face and stomp away. "That's not how this works. If they wanted me to just write everything on my own, I could have done so from the comfort of my own home rather than being stuck here with you."

And there it is again - that mischievous twinkle in Raleigh's eye. And before she has much time to worry about what it means, Raleigh's up and scooping her off her feet. He runs towards the water as Aria yells at him to put her down to no avail, and once the water level reaches his knees, a wave hits, sending them toppling under.

Before Aria can get her bearings, she feels Raleigh’s firm grasp pulling her upright. She wipes the seawater from her eyes to see Raleigh standing there with a big shit-eating grin, his hands still bracing her arms to keep her steady. Maybe if she wasn’t so pissed off at his antics she’d notice the slight tingle where her skin was touched by his, but then again she might just attribute that to the chill from the cool water.

She shrugs out of his hold with an exasperated groan. “Why are you such an asshole? I know you don’t want to be here with me, but this wasn’t my idea. You don’t have to take it out on me.”

“Relax, Ice Queen. I’m just trying to thaw you out a bit. We’ll both have a much better time here if you can learn to have fun.”

“Ugh! I’m not..” That remark cuts Aria deep, more than Raleigh could possibly know. “Maybe if you actually agreed to do some work with me, I’d be more in the mood to have some fun.

Raleigh looks her up and down with an undiscernible expression that makes her uneasy before plopping back down on his towel and putting his sunglasses on. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

Fiona looks up from her laptop and spots Raleigh and Aria emerging from the ocean and engaging in what looks to be an intense conversation. The guest house has a spacious wraparound porch with cushy patio furniture. If she’s got to be stuck somewhere on glorified babysitting duty, as if she’s got no other clients and nothing better to do, it’s not a terrible place to be. At least there’s wifi and she can keep working on her projects with other artists on the label.

She’d been skeptical, to put it mildly, when Ellis brought Aria in to discuss working with Raleigh, and based on his initial reaction this morning, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Aria had tried to quit on the spot. Sure Raleigh getting wasted on the beach and throwing his writing partner in the water day one would look bad by anyone else’s standards, but Fiona’s know him a long time. The fact that that he’s engaging at all is a good sign. Maybe that little chat she had with him earlier stuck.

“Looks like things are going as well as can be expected with those two.” Fiona muses aloud. Hank stands and watches attentively, arms folded across his chest. You’d think he was guarding the President with how serious he takes his job. There’s not another human in sight aside from the four of them. He weighs his words before responding. “It seems so, ma’am.”

“Eww, don’t call me ma’am.” Fiona visibly shudders. “We’ve worked together for years now. You can call me Fiona. And anyway, nobody is around. You don’t have to take your job so seriously here. Why don’t you go grab a beer.”

Frank tugs at the knot in his tie. Yes, he’s still wearing his suit and tie - at the beach. “Drinking on the job would be unprofessional, ma-, I mean Fiona.”

"Okay then," she utters under her breath. It says something that self-described workaholic Fiona is the fun one here, but if she's going to make it through this period of time without dying of boredom, getting Frank to loosen up might just be the side-project she needs. Maybe he'll even take his tie off at some point. Fiona looks back to the beach where Raleigh is sunbathing and Aria is nowhere to be seen. "Would it be unprofessional of me to run out there and smack him upside the head?"

"Yes, I believe so," he replies dryly, but Fiona can detect the corners of his mouth curving upward ever so slightly. There might be hope for him yet.

[welcometophu]

Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 5

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 5

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Cheyenne sits cross-legged on Pels’s bed, facing her. There are three towels spread out to keep the bed clean, and they already look blood-spattered by drops of spaghetti sauce from when Cheyenne gestured with her fork while eating.

They’d delivered a big bowl of pasta to Mom, then retreated to Pels’s room with their own second attempt at dinner, the door shut behind them. They’ll know when Peter comes home, and honestly, Pels hopes to be asleep before his SUV pulls back into the driveway.

For a little while, it’s been easy. Pels can eat quietly and forget about everything else, while Cheyenne fills the empty spaces with chatter about school, Adric, and gymnastics. It’s great, until dinner is done, and they put the bowls aside on Pels’s bureau, and Cheyenne pulls the spattered towels off the bed, bundling them up.

“Can I stay in your bed tonight, or do I need to sleep on the floor?” Cheyenne asks quietly.

Pels remembers the first time Cheyenne crawled into bed with her. Pels was seven, and Cheyenne was two. Cheyenne had just figured out how to climb out of her crib, over the rail, and had toddled down the hall to climb in with Pels during a thunderstorm. When that meant that Cheyenne got upgraded to a “big girl bed” by taking Pels’s bed, Mom had given Pels a big double bed to sprawl in. Pels is small enough that she hasn’t cared when Cheyenne has continued to climb in, whenever she’s scared, ever since.

Pels snorts softly. “When have I ever made you sleep on the floor?”

Cheyenne grins and throws her pillow on the bed, then stretches out, her legs longer than Pels’s, feet reaching further down the bed as they lie next to each other. “Okay. So. What next?” she whispers.

“You know what you need to do,” Dad says. He’s standing by the bureau, looking down at the bowls and idly poking at one of the forks.

“Dad, it’s creepy when you hang out at night,” Pels says plainly.

“And you’re ignoring my point.”

“I don’t mind if he’s here.” Cheyenne waves at the air. “I mean, he’s always here, right? Like. He’s been here since I was a baby. I’m pretty sure I can’t care. He’s not my dad, but he’s your dad, so he’s like my Peter. Only dead.”

And nicer. But Pels isn’t going to say that out loud. After all, Dad has his issues and can be manipulative at times, so while he’s definitely not Peter, he also isn’t perfect. Besides, Cheyenne doesn’t need to be reminded just how bad Peter can be. “Okay then.” There really isn’t much she can do about him anyway. If he wants to stay, he’s going to stay. “We need a plan.”

“Where can you go?”

It’s a reasonable question, and Pels has been thinking about it while they ate. If it were Cheyenne, maybe it’d be easy. She has friends everywhere. “I only really have friends at PHU,” she admits. “And most of them have gone home for Spring Break.”

Cheyenne rolls over on her elbow. “Did anyone stay? Or maybe do you know anyone else who lives in Pennsylvania? Or somewhere you could get to on the bus?”

Pels reaches for her phone, but the list of phone numbers in her contacts is small. She may have made friends, but she hasn’t exactly tried her hardest to connect with them.

She opens the group text with Shane and Jess. There have been more pictures since she last talked to them. The latest shows three large cats sleeping in a pile on top of Ángel.

“Oh my God, that’s so cute!” Cheyenne snatches the phone from Pels’s hands, squealing as she opens the photo stream for the chat and scrolls through the pictures. “Are they mountain lions? They’re adorable! Why are your friends hanging out with mountain lions?”

Pels grabs the phone back and uses pictures to explain. “The cats are Talented. The word for their Talent looks kind of like lynx, and they look like lynxes, so I’m going to go with that, because I’m not sure how it’s pronounced. That’s Ángel, and his boyfriend Tony, and those two are Tanner and Luca and that’s Hayley. Here’s a picture where they all look normal. And these are Jess and Shane.”

Cheyenne takes the phone back when Pels offers it, magnifying the pictures to get a closer look. “Jess is really pretty. She’s tall and like, totally solid. I love her hair and her freckles. Shane looks cute. Does he have a cane?”

“He broke his leg last January and it hasn’t really healed quite right.” Pels chews at her lip, not reaching out to take the phone back. “They are also pretty much literally the only people I think I can call.”

“Just call them,” Dad says. He plucks the phone from Cheyenne’s fingertips and drops it on Pels’s lap.

Cheyenne blinks. “I am guessing your Dad has opinions.”

“He usually does.” Pels picks up the phone as she lies back again, holding it above their heads. She presses the button to call Jess, and arranges the phone so the camera gets both her and Cheyenne lying side by side.

“Pels, hi!” Jess sounds surprised, and Pels can’t really blame her. She wouldn’t expect herself to call, either.

When the video comes on, it wobbles and shifts around until it’s set against something and is pointing at a bed in a dorm room where Ángel and Tony are sitting against the wall, and Shane’s on the floor. Jess flops on the floor next to Shane and waves. “Tanner borrowed Tony’s truck and he and Luca and Hayley went out to pick up pizza.”

“We will starve before they return,” Shane says dryly. “It’s already been an hour.”

“Why?” Cheyenne asks.

Pels is pretty sure she can guess the reason and it doesn’t have anything to do with the pizza. Her cheeks go hot when everyone else laughs. “It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly. “They’ll be back soon, I’m sure. I just—” She cuts off, not quite sure how to get started.

“It’s cool that you called,” Jess says easily. “Is that your little sister? Hey, Cheyenne, I’m Jess. Pels talks about you in our group chat.”

“Pels showed me pictures, but it’s really cool to meet you. Is it true that—ow.” Cheyenne rubs her side where Pels elbowed her. “Quit it.”

Ángel turns towards Tony, then leans closer to him as Tony murmurs something. Tony’s expression when he looks back at the camera is far more gentle than his rough looks would make Pels guess. For a moment, they both get very large in the screen as they climb over Jess and Shane to get off the bed, then they disappear from view. “Good to see you,” Ángel says from off-screen. “We’re going to go take a walk. Let Tony stretch his furry legs.”

There’s a low rumble, and a strangled laugh, and the door in the background bangs open as Jess and Shane both watch the action. Jess is laughing when she looks back at Pels. “Tony just bride-carried him out. Which is better than a fireman’s carry, but still, the look on Ángel’s face was priceless.”

Shane leans forward, picking up the phone and moving it closer, presumably on his lap so it’s looking up at him and Jess. “So, hey, Pels,” he says, his voice low and careful. “What’s up?”

“I’m supposed to get to know you.” She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to just say she needs help, but it is. It’s really hard to get the words out.

“And that’s why you’re calling with your little sister on the call?” Shane looks doubtful.

“Is everything okay?” Jess asks.

“No,” Cheyenne says firmly. “It’s not. Pels needs to go back to PHU right now.”

Jesus.

“Not right this second, Cheyenne. But yes, soon,” Pels admits. “Things are—it’s just not good here right now.”

There’s a loud car on the street, and for just a moment she thinks it might be Peter coming home. She drops the phone, scrambling to the window to look out, but a pickup truck rolls by, passing the driveway and continuing on.

“So, my dad and Pels got in a fight,” Cheyenne says, the phone in her hands now as she looks up at it. “He’s my dad, but not Pels’s dad—you should ask her about her dad sometime. Anyway, her and my dad don’t get along, and he doesn’t approve of her tattoo.” When Cheyenne says the words, Pels can almost hear the quotations around “tattoo” as if she’s trying to get them to talk about the soul marks. “Then things started rattling and when stuff like that happens—”

“I always get blamed.” Pels gets back on the bed and into view of the camera quickly. “It’s usually my fault. Kind of.”

“This time it wasn’t, but my dad doesn’t know that.”

“And in order to keep everything from getting out of hand, he’s pissed off enough that we think everything would go back to status quo if I weren’t here making it worse,” Pels says quickly. She knows they need to talk about it more, but she doesn’t want Mom to overhear them talking about Cheyenne’s Talent. It’s obvious that Mom isn’t ready for it, and there’s no point in taking the risk.

“I don’t have friends here,” Pels adds, when Jess and Shane are strangely silent. They glance at each other, and she wonders if they can have silent conversations. They’re best friends; maybe they’ve developed that almost telepathy some friends have. “We moved into this house right before I started at PHU. If I didn’t have GPS, I’d be constantly lost, especially since Mom has me driving Cheyenne around. The only person outside of this house whose name I actually know is Lonnie, the guy at the Coffee Shack.”

“I wonder if they’d be jealous if you told them he was flirting with you?” Dad muses.

“Shut up, Dad,” Pels snaps.

Cheyenne giggles.

Jess’s mouth is slightly open, staring at the phone. Shane looks as if he’s trying to see around the edges of the image. “Do you have someone else there?” Shane asks.

Pels puts a hand over Cheyenne’s mouth. “It is a long and complicated story. Just remember, if I say Dad, it’s—not an awful thing. If Cheyenne says Dad, she means Peter, and he’s the one who doesn’t like me.”

“Noted,” Jess says.

Cheyenne shoves Pels’s hand away. “Short version is Pels needs you guys to rescue her. So can she come home and stay with you?”

Jess makes the funny little fish face again, her mouth opening and closing while her cheeks go red under the freckles. Shane says something to her that’s too quiet for the microphone, and Jess shakes her head quickly. “I’m fine,” she insists. “I’m just going to grab a water bottle. I’ll be right back. You want one? Of course you want one. Shane. Not Pels. I can’t exactly give you a water bottle through the phone line.” She disappears from view quickly.

Shane’s expression goes soft and amused. “You’re ridiculous.”

A water bottle lands on the bed next to him. “Shut up,” Jess says from off-screen.

Cheyenne still has the phone in her hands, so she sits up, cradling it in her lap to look down. “The pictures of the cats were really cool,” she says. “Pels said they’re lynxes.”

“Lince,” Shane says, and Pels is relieved she didn’t try to pronounce it because it sounds more like linn-chay than lynx. “They’re a type of shapeshifter with only one form, and don’t call them Clan; Tony growls every time it comes up. It’s the only type of Talent I’ve ever seen where one person can call it out of someone else, which is why Tanner’s now a cat.”

Pels is sure there’s a story there, and she is equally sure that Cheyenne is going to get Shane to tell it. By the time she tries to decide whether it’s worth rerouting the conversation back to the rescue mission, Shane’s already deep into a discussion of how there was a twenty-two hour truck ride that ended with one of them becoming a cat.

There are pieces left out. There have to be, because it doesn’t fully make sense.

That doesn’t seem to matter to Cheyenne, who simply nods along with all of it. “So Tony and Ángel are soulmates and who else is?” she asks.

“Ángel and Hayley are the ones who did the original ritual,” Shane explains. “They thought they were going to be soulmates, but then everything went a little wrong. Ángel still brought Hayley home for winter break, though, and she met his best friend Tanner and they turned out to be soulmates, and now Luca’s their boyfriend. And Ángel ended up finding out Tony’s his soulmate, and really, it’s all far better matchups.”

Jess flops back on the bed, a bottle of water in hand that’s already half gone. Her cheeks are still faintly flushed, and her ponytail’s been pulled loose so her auburn hair is in dark waves around her face. “They make each other more stable,” she says. “Ángel and Hayley were like the same person sometimes. But Tony’s got a serious side that helps keep Ángel rooted in reality. And Tanner and Hayley balance well, too, and they make an anchor for Luca.”

“But the spell made them fall in love?” Cheyenne asks. “I mean, isn’t that kind of—”

“Popular misconception, but no.” Shane meets Pels’s gaze through the screen. “Magic can’t make you fall in love. All it can do is point out that someone might be a perfect match, but all the rest of it is up to you.”

Pels makes a noise rather than saying anything in reply. She rubs at her wrist, still uncertain, because this just seems messed up. “Aren’t soulmates supposed to be two people,” she mutters, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

“Ángel’s abuela has two marks,” Jess says. “She didn’t actually get together with both, but she loved both. Soulmates are different for different people. Like Rory’s mark is huge, trying to encapsulate Kit, and they balance each other perfectly. Then there’s Tanner and Hayley, and they’ve got Luca, and there’s no mark for him, but he’s part of their life, and Luca called Tanner’s cat.”

“So no, it’s not weird to have multiple soulmates,” Shane says, his tone very careful. “What happened with my mark is definitely different, but apparently magic likes to do things its own way.”

“Especially around Shane.” Jess knocks into him with her shoulder. “Since his innate ability is Chaos.”

“And if you had a Talent, your innate ability would be stable math,” Shane counters.

“It sounds like you two should totally be soulmates, if balance matters that much,” Cheyenne says with a soft laugh.

“Except for the fact that I am very much a lesbian, and apparently the equation includes Pels,” Jess replies.

Pels can feel the warmth rising in her face again. She’s pretty sure she’s supposed to respond somehow here. Either she should be encouraging, or discouraging, or something in between but there are no words that feel right on her tongue.

“You could just go with it,” Dad points out, and Pels turns to glare over her shoulder at him.

“So,” Cheyenne says, a little too loudly. “We need to figure out how we’re going to get Pels back to PHU.”

“And where I’m going to stay when I get there. Because I didn’t sign up to say I’d be there over break, so I’m locked out of the dorm until Saturday. It’s only Wednesday,” Pels points out. If money weren’t an issue, the travel would be easy. It’s sleeping space that’s hard.

Shane and Jess look at each other. “Sleeping space is slightly complicated because of all the cats,” Jess says slowly. “But we’ll work something out, we promise. You won’t be stuck sleeping on a park bench in the winter.”

“I’ve actually napped on those benches on the Quad,” Shane muses. “But it was a lot warmer. There was this one senior—my RA last year—who used to tell stories about camping out under the bushes. Apparently there’s a place where you can get under this ring of hemlocks—I’m not even sure where he’s talking about on campus. But it’s like a pine fort, and he’d go sleep outside there. On the other hand, he’s Clan, so I’m not sure he really cared about the weather or being outside in it.”

Jess elbows him. “We will find a place indoors, with heat and a bed, for Pels to stay,” she says firmly. “What about getting here?”

“I took the bus home, and can take it back, but my ticket isn’t until Saturday.” Pels goes to her bag and digs through it, pulling out the information before returning to the bed and in view of the camera. “It looks like there’s a fee to change it, and I can’t exactly ask Mom to change the booking.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Shane offers. “Just text me the information, and I’ll get it changed.”

“If she can go tomorrow morning while I’m at school, I can totally play dumb about it,” Cheyenne says. “Pels, you need the car to get to the bus station, don’t you?”

Pels nods. “Which means the car will be stuck at the station, and Mom and Peter will be pissed off about it. Do you think you can get Mom to the station to pick it up somehow without Peter getting involved? I don’t want there to be any backlash on you.”

Cheyenne pats her hand. “I can cry on demand, and you’ll be abandoning me. I will absolutely play dumb for you. Besides, I think Mom might be more on your side than you think.”

Pels thinks back over every time Mom’s forced her to wear the right clothes, act the right way, and hasn’t believed her when she’s talked about Talent. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I think she’s right,” Dad says quietly. “Your mother was different when we were together. I’m sure that person is still in there.”

That’s a rabbit hole Pels wants to slide down, asking Dad about the past. But he never lets her dig into the details, and she has to be satisfied with the tiny random nuggets he drops like that one. So she shrugs, and grabs the phone from Cheyenne, using it to send the details of how to change it to the group text with Shane and Jess.

There’s a bang in the background of a door slamming open. “Hey there!” a voice calls cheerfully, and Pels thinks it might be Hayley. “We’re back with pizza. Where did Tony and Ángel go?”

“I think they’re on the phone.” A quieter voice, then murmuring in the background.

Jess wiggles her fingers in invitation, and three people enter the view. “Wave at Pels and her little sister, Cheyenne,” Jess orders. “This is Tanner, and Luca. You know Hayley.”

Barely. And she recognizes the other two from pictures. Luca’s taller than Tanner, and has one arm slung across his shoulder, leaning in like he has to touch him. Tanner’s hair sticks up every which way, but he’s also carrying four boxes of pizza, and a bag that Pels figures has wings in it.

“We should let you go,” Pels says quickly. “Just… text me when everything’s all set. We’ll figure out what to do on our side. Bye.”

“Is everything okay?”

Pels touches the button to disconnect the call while Hayley’s still speaking, then tosses her phone onto the charger so it’ll be ready to go in the morning. “I should pack.”

Cheyenne pulls her feet up as she sits up, arms around her legs, hunching over with her chin on her knees. “I’m going to miss you,” she says quietly. “Peter’s going to be okay, though. I mean. I think he’ll—”

“He’ll be glad that I’m gone.” Pels finishes the sentence for her. “I know, and I wouldn’t be leaving like this if I didn’t think that. Mom will think she’s failed, and it’s kind of a failure of the whole nuclear family unit thing, but he also can’t stand me, and he hates when I’m weird and different and act like I’ve got the devil in me. Which… I guess I do, but I also have a guardian angel, and well. He’s never going to understand.”

She grabs her dirty laundry from the last few days, shoving it into her laundry bag on one side of her bag. She looks at the few clothes she’d brought home, and the new dresses mom gave her with the leggings. Which were actually kind of comfortable, and a halfway decent compromise. Mom was trying.

Pels packs everything she can except for her toiletries, then lays out one of the soft dresses and a pair of leggings, along with her boots for tomorrow. She has to keep up the illusion, otherwise Mom will know something is up in the morning.

“I like them,” Cheyenne says. “I think you should go for it.” Because of course she’s still thinking about Shane and Jess.

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is that easy,” Dad counters. “All you have to do is reach out and try.”

Pels glares angrily at him. “No, Dad, it’s not that easy. I meant what I said. I don’t know how. I don’t make friends easily, and part of that is your fault. It’s really hard to make friends when I’m always moving, and always having things go haywire, and sometimes I look like I’m drunk because you’re trying to push me to do something. Literally. Although that time you made the annoying bird fly away wasn’t bad. I mean. There are times when you help. Yes. That’s good. But still. It’s not easy.”

Cheyenne’s eyebrows are high. “I take it your dad agrees with me?”

“Shocking to say, but yes, now I have two of you bugging me.” Pels flops down on the bed, curling up and pulling her pillow over her head. “Maybe it’s easy for you, but that’s not me. I don’t know how to make friends. It’s so—vulnerable. It could go wrong. I could suddenly have to leave when Peter decides he’s not paying for PHU anymore. Everything could change tomorrow.”

“I died,” Dad says flatly. “And that didn’t stop me from falling in love.”

“You didn’t know you were going to die when you fell in love with her,” Pels yells, her voice muffled by the pillow. “God. Both of you. Just. Let me do it on my own time. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I like boys. Or if I like girls. Or if I like those two people in particular. Or even one of them. I don’t even know them. I don’t know anything.”

“In order to find out, you’re going to have to try,” Cheyenne says. “If you want to cry on my shoulder, I’ll be here. I may be young, but I’m a good listener.” She pats Pels’s shoulder gently, then lies down next to her. “You always take care of me. I can take care of you, too, now. I’m old enough. I know how scary it is to like someone.”

As if her fledgling crush on Adric is anywhere near the same scope as Pels suddenly having soulmates and a permanent marking telling the world about them. Pels sucks in a breath, letting it shudder out as she exhales.

“I’ll always listen, too,” Dad says quietly. She feels his hand on her forehead, light and careful, somehow touching her through the pillow. Well. Ghost. Of course he can do that. “I’ll be with you as long as you need me.”

That implies that there might be a time when she won’t need him anymore, or when he thinks she doesn’t, and he leaves. And for all that she rails against him all the time, that’s a chilling thought.

“I’ll think about it,” she mutters into the blankets. Seriously. That’s all they can ask of her and they’re going to have to be satisfied. She’s not doing this at anyone’s pace but her own.

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[i-bleed-strawberry-milk]

Ｆｉｒｓｔ Ｄａｔｅ (Shane Madej x Reader Fluff Fic)

(the first of a few fanfics about Shane Madej) ((this is also posted on my Wattpad so don’t worry if you see it there as well))

You're busying yourself at your desk, burying yourself in your work. You're an artist and writer for Buzzfeed, a job that comes with a lot of hours but the pays good. Shane has noticed how stressed out you've been, deciding that today was the best time to pop the question that he's been pondering for a few months now.

He's stood in front of his desk, staring over at you, "C'mon Shane, it's simple. Plus, even if she does reject you, Y/n isn't the type to ruin a friendship over something like this." Shane continues shuffling his feet, Ryan looks at him laughing to himself. He's never seem Shane like this, it makes him feel kinda guilty for teasing him, "Look man, she likes you, it'll be fine. She needs the stress relief anyway." Ryan puts a reassuring hand on Shane's shoulder. Shane glances over his shoulder, down at Ryan, who gives him a kind smile. Shane gives a stern nod, turning to face your desk again, you still haven't noticed the boys. Shane begins walking over, becoming more scared by the moment.

As he finds himself finally placed beside your desk, you once again don't notice until you feel the tap on your shoulder. You look up to see Shane staring down at you, he gives you an awkward wave. You take your headphones off, wrapping them around your neck, "Oh, hi Shane! What's up?" You ask smiling at him tiredly. "Well, uh, the thing is... Um..." Shane stutters, trying to think of the right words. "I'm listening." You smile reassuringly. Shane closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, "I've been contemplating on asking you this for awhile now and seeing how stressed and overwhelmed you've been I thought that it'd be nice for you to take a break. With me. On a date." Shane kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see your reaction. Little did he know that you were smiling widely, "Are you asking me out?"

    "Yes, but if you're too busy or don't want to, I get it." Shane says, turning his head away nervously. You're mentally screaming but decide to try be cool, "No! I'd love to, I need a break anyway." You say, rose tinted cheeks and a cheesy smile. Shane smiles widely, "Cool, great. What do you wanna do?" He asks cooly, seeming to have relaxed once you agreed. "I don't mind. Something lowkey and chill. Maybe we could just grab some McDonalds and relax in a park?" You suggest, not wanting him to panic trying to think of something really romantic. "Oh, you are romantic. I don't know if I can keep up." Shane jokes with you, "Well I'm glad to see that you've eased up." You laugh, Shane scoffs, "What do you mean 'eased up'? I am the epitome of ease and chill. I've been told I'm quite the charmer." He says this leaning against your desk with a big smirk on his face. You chuckle, shaking your head slowly, "Alright Prince Charming, go away and let me finish my work. I'll see you later." You giggle, looking back to your work. Shane walks off, giving himself a high-five. You both have the same goofy grins plastered to your faces the entire day, eagerly awaiting your date.

   You look yourself up and down one more time before deciding that you look presentable. You chose to wear a black and white striped crop-top, a pair of high wasted mom-jeans, some old warn down vans, white adidas socks and some fishnet elbow-length gloves. You also have a pair of small hoop earrings in, tying the whole outfit together. You smile at yourself, you look good. The jeans and crop helped show off your figure, your particularly small waist and wide hips. You smile once more, then hearing a knock at your door. You quickly run to the door, maybe a bit too excitedly, deciding on leaving your phone so that you have zero distractions from each other. You grab your wallet and keys, taking your jacket down from the coat hook.

    You open the door to Shane looking very handsome in a sweater, a plaid shirt and a big navy winter jacket. He also has his glasses on which isn't a usual occurrence but you love the way it looks with the outfit, making him look very sophisticated, "Looking very smart Mr Madej." You smile at him as he looks down at his outfit proudly, "Thank you. You look," He gulps slightly, looking your figure up and down, causing you to raise an eyebrow, "wow." You blush brightly, smiling softly, "Heh, thank you. I feel bad though, I feel like I underdressed." You say gesturing to Shane's clothes, as you begin walking to Shane's car. He runs ahead of you, opening the passenger side door, "No, you look great. Plus, by that logic, I could easily say that I'm overdressed." You thank him gently as you sit into the car, he closes the door behind him. He quickly runs over to the drivers side, you laugh as he enters, "Yunno what? Let's just agree that we're a pair of sexy bastards." You laugh. Shane gives you a look of fake offence as he turns on the car, "I don't appreciate being called a bastard, Ma'am." You chuckle at his statement, "Hey, at least I called you sexy." You state, shrugging your shoulders.

You two are having a great laugh when you are coming out of McDonalds, "I cannot believe your level of awkwardness, 'YoU ToO.'" Shane laughs at your antisocial behaviour, you wheeze as he continues to make jokes about your cringeyness. "In my," You wheeze, "In my defence, I was never taught how to socialise." You two continue laughing all the way to the car.

You and Shane bought a box of 20 nuggets and some curly fries to share, along with a large coke, "That smells so good." You sniff the bag of food deeply, you sigh deeply, "Hot damn..." Shane laughs, "Would you two like to be left alone?" He chuckles. "Yes actually, you're ruining my date Shane." You say in a fake accusatory tone. Shane wheezes at your reaction.

You guys made it to the park a little late, getting distracted a few tines on the way, especially when you saw a guy guy making balloon animals. The parks closed when you arrive, "Aw man." Shane frowns. "Nuh-uh. I'm not having this. Gimme a boost." You say ushering Shane over. He has your cold McDonalds in hand, "You're not serious." He looks at you with raised brows. You nod your head sternly. He shrugs his shoulders, putting your food on the ground. He walks to you, bending down and putting his head between your legs, taking a hold of your thighs, "What are you doing?" You laugh, then screaming as he lifts you into the air on his shoulders. He laughs, stumbling around trying to regain his balance, "Shane, Shane, stop, I'm going to cry." You laugh nervously, tears starting to form in your eyes as you grip onto his hair tightly, "Ow! It's fine, you're fine!" Shane laughs, walking closer to the gate so that you can hang on to something other than his hair. He soothes your thighs as you cling to the gate for dear life. "See? You're okay!" You wheeze as you begin to stand on Shane's shoulders, "You okay?" You ask, your legs shaking as Shane holds your ankles.

"I'm okay, go on." Shane says as you take a step over the fence onto the other side. You jump quickly, falling to your knees. Shane gasps, "Are you alright?" You jump up, wipe off your knees and give him the thumbs up. He smiles, picking up the food and passing it through a gap in the gate. Shane begins climbing up the gate, you cringe watching as he scales the fence, "Be careful Shane." You wince as he jumps off the top, landing on his feet unlike you. "You good?" You ask sweetly, "I'm alright, thank you." He smiles at you gently. "Alright! Let's go!" You grab his hand, running towards the playground. You end up chilling on the swing set, pushing yourselves backwards and forwards for awhile as you eat your McDonalds, drinking your coke. After finishing your food you and Shane play around in the park for a bit. You have so much fun, you fall off the merry-go-round, you sit on Shane's lap and ride down the slide together, Shane gets stuck in the toddlers swing while you almost piss yourself laughing at him and Shane helps you across the monkey-bars. After awhile you're both really tired.

Shane lays his jacket onto the ground and bows dramatically, "M'lady." You giggle, bowing back, "Why thank you, kind sir." You and he chuckle as you both lie down onto his jacket. You stare up into the colourful night sky, sighing at the gorgeous sight. "Wow. The stars are beautiful, aren't they?" You say, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. Shane smiles, looking at you as you look off dreamily. He chuckles at a sudden thought, "Not as beautiful as you." He smirks. You laugh at the sweet line, "You did not just say that. That is the cheesiest thing I think I've ever heard you say." You shake your head looking over to Shane. "Oh really? I can get cheesier. Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see." Shane smiles widely, proud of the reaction you gave him as you wheeze. "How about, even if there wasn't gravity on earth, I'd still fall for you." You wheeze even deeper, losing a lot of breath, "Oh my god!" You clutch your stomach. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again." Shane laughs deeper seeing your reaction. You're crying as Shane continues his onslaught of terrible pick-up lines.

You wipe away your tears as you turn your head to look at Shane, who seems to have been staring at you. When you catch him, instead of blushing and turning away like he'd usually do, he smiles. He looks great in this setting, the pale white moons lights casted a beautiful shadow on his face. Shane just admired you from his position beside you, the way your hair fell, the way the light contrasts with your skin tone and the starry backdrop making your eyes glitter brightly. Shane's arms were open as his head was laid on top of his hands. You take this as an invitation to move toward him, resting your head on his chest, bringing one of your legs over his lap and hooking it around his legs slightly. Shane stiffens a bit, obviously not expecting you to do that.

He relaxes after awhile, bringing one of his arms out from under his head to your waist, massaging it gently as he pulls you closer to him. As he brings you closer to his side, he kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a bit. You sigh, content. You stay this way for awhile, you really couldn't say how long. You just stay, enjoying each other's company, talking about life. You start leaving after realising the time was 1:39am and that you'd lost track through your countless conversations.

Once you'd both gotten over the fence unscathed, you walk hand-in-hand to his car. Like at the beginning of the night, Shane opens the car door for you, closing it once you're in. He starts driving you into the direction of your house, your hands still interlocked. You sigh happily. Shane walks you both to your door once you arrive back at your house, "I had a lot of fun tonight. Thank you so much for this, I needed it." You rock your intertwined hands back and forth as Shane's thumb draws soft circles on the back of your hand. "Me too. I'm really glad you said yes." He says looking up from your hands. "I am too." You giggle quietly.

You smile cheekily up at him, "I look forward to our next date." Shane's eyes widen a bit at your statement, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Goodnight Shane." You get onto your tippy-toes, pecking him on the cheek. "Uh, goodnight to you too Y/n." Shane says, grinning giddily as you make your way into your house, taking your hand from his, much to your own dismay. Once you closed the door behind you, you jumped up and down happily, squealing.

Shane reaches his hand to his face, brushing his fingers along the spot where your lips met his cheek. He smiles widely, high-fiving himself as he dances goofily back to his car.

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 10

What can be said when you finally break? Not a whole lot, honestly.

I broke. Killing Sofia, taking that responsibility from Dad, broke some tiny part of innocence I had left. I passed out and it took me all night and part of the next day to get through the trauma of killing the undead version of a little girl that Carl had been so hopeful would be rescued. Killing her, knowing that Carl would lose what sparks of faith he had left, it ripped me apart.

When I came to, Daryl was watching over me in our tent. His anger at my silence about the barn filled with walkers had passed. His worry was evident, apparently I had been talking while I was unconscious. He said I begged to die. To leave the horrors of our new reality behind. I begged for an end, for something to replace the terror we all lived in.

“Jessi, ya can’t,” he started, when he told me what I’d been moaning for, “ya can’t leave me alone here. Ya can’t.” He pulled me into his arms, as though holding me together would keep me sane. The pleading voice, the fear shined clearly in his eyes. And I nearly fell apart again.

“It was just bad dreams, Daryl,” I whispered, letting him hold on to me for dear life. “Just bad dreams, long overdue.” I pulled back so I could frame his face with my hands. “I’m right here, I’ll always be right here.”

Dad had apparently followed Hershel to a bar in town, with Glenn in tow. They’d brought back more than booze, or the smell of it anyway. A prisoner/hostage, named Randall. He was injured and our resident vet turned survivor doctor helped him heal. Of course there was dissent about what to do about the man. Two guesses who lead the charge for getting rid of him permanently, versus who lead the charge to release him once healed far away and leave him to fend for himself?

Of course the plan went to shit. Why wouldn’t it? This was the new normal wasn’t it? That you make plans and the world works against you to make sure that it all turns to crap. Shane and Dad tried, apparently, my dad’s way. Neither would go into too many details about what happened, but they both looked like shit when they got back. And Randall was still with them, so another issue.

While they were off on their field trip that made both of them look like they’d gone ten rounds with each other, Hershel’s youngest daughter, Beth tried to kill herself. First she’d gone comatose (who could blame her, I did too for a bit?), then apparently Andrea got the brilliant idea to give her the choice. Thank God, according to Lori that Beth changed her mind, and it wasn’t too fucking late. Lori told me that Andrea made some snarky comments about her and Shane, but I couldn’t focus on that backbiting crap. I was still trying to decide how I felt about being alive in this horror show.

Daryl offered to get information out of Randall. I couldn’t look at him when he returned. I couldn’t stand to think what he might have done to get any intel out of the man, not when he was wiping his hands of the blood. I focused on the living room rug. I focused on anything other than the voting going on around me about a HUMAN’S life.

Carl, my baby brother, actually told Dad that he should kill Randall. My heart broke when Dad looked at me with the terror I knew was clear on my face. My baby brother wasn’t just losing his faith, he was losing his humanity. I sat down on the sofa in Hershel’s house and missed the rest of the conversation. Had I sounded like that when I told Daryl that Andrea wasn’t going to survive? Had I been that cold, thinking it was pragmatic? What was going to happen to all of us if that became our mindset?

Dale, a humanist if I’ve ever seen one, voted against. I didn’t vote, I wasn’t listening. I stood up and walked out of the living room. I walked out of the house. I walked to the porch swing and sat down. I felt so mechanical. Like every movement since waking was just mimicry of what I’d usually do, but that I couldn’t feel myself do it. I sat on the porch, ignoring the rest of the group, their voices, their vote. I had to sit it out.

When Dale was killed the next day, by a walker who somehow found our new safe place, I knew that the world would lose to the walkers. That if a man like Dale, kind and human couldn’t make it, then what would the rest of us have to offer the gods that set this fucking plague loose on us? His funeral was a blur. So was Carol trying to let me know she didn’t blame me for ending the thing that her daughter had become. That Sofia had been dead far before I shot that arrow into her head. That I’d done what needed to be done. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

I barely noticed when Randall escaped. I hardly took note that Shane was the one who warned them. Not until Dad and Daryl stood before me telling me they were going to look for him did I pay the least bit of attention to what was going on around me. I was still lost in that same fog that I’d woken up to. Even when I laid down with Daryl at night, nothing seemed the same. When Dad and Daryl told me that with Glenn and Shane they’d go find Randall something sparked. A chill. A familiar chill rolled through me, but I couldn’t focus on it.

“Don’t.” I whispered, as they both stared at me. “Just don’t. Please.” I couldn’t say more, I couldn’t tell them why, but I knew that when they walked away, even more would change and I didn’t know if we would survive it.

DAYS AFTER SHANE’S DEATH, THE WALKER ATTACK AT GREENE FARM

Dad finally told us what Dr. Jenner had warned him about before blowing the entire damn CDC building sky high. He’d waited. Some would argue he waited too damn long, but he’d waited until things were at their absolute worst. The attack, after Carl was forced to put a bullet in Shane’s head, the rush from the farm, the side of a freeway, that’s when he finally had to tell us. Had to because Carl asked the question no one knew we had to ask. How had Shane turned when he hadn’t been bitten? Daryl had a similar question, because Randall had turned as well, and as far as he and Glenn had seen, there wasn’t a bite on him either.

And so, when things couldn’t seem bleaker, Dad proved they could. Now we knew. People didn’t have to be bitten to become a walking nightmare. They just had to die with their brain intact. I looked around the group and suddenly realized that it was even worse, we’d lost more people. Andrea, even if I thought it would happen didn’t mean I reveled in it, was gone. Patricia and Jimmy, gone. I blinked back tears. Enough, Jessi, I scolded myself as I watched the others become angry with Dad. Angry with his lack of warning. Enough.

“Enough.” I said, loud enough to be heard, not loud enough to get us attacked again. “Just stop. Stop being pissed. Stop being angry with Dad. Stop.” I looked up and realized that it had been days since anyone heard me speak. “Does this really change our situation? Knowing that we can all become whatever the hell those beasts are, does it change anyone’s urge to survive?” They all watched me. “I can’t do this. I can’t listen to the anger, and irritation at ONE more fucking thing we can’t change.”

Daryl slipped behind me to hold me. Offering what comfort he could. “She’s right. Don’t matter. We still gotta stay alive.”

“There’s a place for us,” Dad said, taking heart in my strength and conviction. “I wasn’t sure Jenner was right. Not until I killed Shane.” I noticed that Lori wasn’t looking at him and I knew that he’d told her before us. “Carl had to put him down.” The group grew quiet.

“Rick has honor,” Daryl’s voice shocked all of us. “I know he ain’t lying because I tracked Randall. He wasn’t bit. And Shane’s story didn’t match what we found.” My hands linked with his where he’d wrapped his arms around me.

Maggie speaks up to try to get Glenn to leave, that the rest of us aren’t for them. Hershel shushed her.

“I killed my best friend for you people, for Christ’s sake.” Dad nearly roared. I watched my baby brother bury his head in Lori’s shoulder. “Maybe you all are better off without me. I say there’s a place for us, but maybe it is another pipe dream.” I notice that no one seems to be leaving. “No takers? If you’re staying, this isn’t a democracy anymore.” He turned to walk away, and I pulled out of Daryl’s arms and rushed after him.

“Daddy?” I whispered once we’d gotten far enough away from the others. He turned and opened his arms. I rushed forward and let him wrap me up like he had from the moment I breathed air for the first time. “Thank you.”

“He was dangerous, baby, he was.” Dad breathed into my hair. “Lori knows it, but I’m not sure she’s gonna forgive it.” He sighed. “The others? They need to understand-”

I nodded against his chest. “I know.” I breathed in deeply, even through the sweat and blood, he still smelled like my daddy. “I know, I’ll try to help you as best I can. And I think Daryl will too.”

“Sure will,” Daryl’s voice spoke quietly from behind me. “I meant it, Rick, ya got honor. Bastard lied about too damn much.” He stayed a distance from us, letting me and Dad comfort one another for a moment. “Gonna be hard, gotta find somewhere before winter, and definitely before your next little one comes.”

“I’ve got the two of you,” Dad answered, releasing me and smiling at Daryl. “Should be a hellava help.”

[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

Bliss 7 and 12 please ;-;

Thank you anon, I absolutely adored writing this prompt, but being me I ended up with more angst than I planned to write for such a sweet prompt, but the ending is soft I swear. I hope you like it

Prompt Bliss 7. “Look at you… Goodness, you’re so cute.”

Ryan doesn’t know what they are even doing at this point.  

This is the tenth time this month that he had lingered at the office after work, throwing himself into doing and redoing his editing as people trickled out and the buzz faded away. His neck is straining and his eyes ache, but he catches himself before he rubs them, not wanting to jostle the contacts. The office is not the pinnacle of comfort and luxury, but he would give up his bed and all his jerseys if it meant he could be spared from his mind.  

There is no use thinking about it really, what’s done is done, but he can’t help his reluctance. It’s just an apartment, his rationality says. But why does every empty space hurt to look at, his heart whispers.

There are so many of them now. 

So he had hung back, and Shane had stayed with him, the two of them editing their various projects side by side, a giant bucket of Chicago Popcorn™ Shane’s parents had sent between them.

The problem, as it usually was, is that Shane’s company and some good old fashioned sleep deprivation don’t mix well, and productivity took the fallout, their work ethic gradually sliding off the table until they’re positively undoing efforts that they’ve already put out. 

Yes, maybe Ryan had something to do with Shane’s elbow and back crashing onto his laptop keyboard and deleting nearly two hours of editing, but it’s Shane’s fault he doesn’t save the videos every two minutes like Ryan does, non-compulsively of course. 

So their nights aren’t the most productive, but it’s off-hours so no one can really tell them off. The office is empty, unflipped light switches plunging patches of desks into shadow between the bright spots in mesmerizing patterns. The warehouse desk layout leaves much space for the mind to fill, but Ryan’s worked here for so long that he knows every twist and turn. He’d bet good money that he’d win in a ghost race through this organized mess. 

Ryan’s pretty sure the only person doing actual work tonight has chosen to evacuate from their desk to one of the corners farthest away from the pair of them. He feels a little bad to bother him with the un-moderated volume of their conversations and the not-so-infrequent giggling fits, but right now he’s too relaxed and happy to care. It’s the only time he gets to feel like this anyway. 

The Unsolved title card flashes, pulling his attention back to the screen, a white bar inching through the multicolored blocks of carefully compiled video and audio files at the bottom of the monitor. Ryan’s quite proud of this one, the crew were able to get some stellar shots on-location and there was probably one of the clearest spirit box replies they’ve gotten, no matter how hard the other man tries to discount it. 

“Aww you cut that part out again?’ Shane pouts beside him, headphones perched precariously on his big head.

"You can’t just go and tell ghosts they’re gonna be on Youtube every time.” Ryan swivels his chair to face Shane, a lofty air in his voice as he does his best to look down his nose at the other man, even going so far as pumping his seat up a few inches. Shane’s lip trembles like he’s holding back a laugh. It’s an argument they’ve had before, and Ryan knows how it’s going to go almost down to the line, but it’s always fun, so he plays the game. 

“And why not?" 

"They’re not from this time, they don’t even know what electricity is!”

“So you are admitting the spirit box is wack.” Shane rubs his hands together evilly, smiling so wide he could have been in that truth or dare movie, no special effects needed. “Oh, this is very good.”

“I did not say that,” Ryan protests, nudging Shane’s leg with a foot and feeling intensely satisfied when the boot leaves a dirt mark on the other man’s dark jeans. Jeez, they are literal children sometimes, but Ryan never has this much fun. 

“It’s just, they’re ghosts, and they’re making the effort to reach out to talk to these two idiots, cut them some slack.”

“You’re the only idiot here. I, Shane Madej, am a man of science.” Shane doesn’t even have to level up his seat and he’s still taller than Ryan. It is so, so not fair. 

“This is science!”

“Uh-huh,” Shane says, deadpan. There is movement just out of Ryan’s periphery, and he cranes his head to see the guy leave, wincing internally. He should probably apologize for being loud, but that can totally wait a day. Maybe two.   

“There has been plenty of evidence on ghosts and you know it.”

“From what I’ve seen? You really want to go into that?” There’s a challenge in Shane’s posture, and Ryan feels a rush in his chest that overruns the empty ache there, sees the trap but he jumps anyway.

“Hell yeah I do, we’ve caught some pretty good stuff along the way, Waverly, ‘brown and white’?  The freaking Sallie House?" 

"We both know the whole flashlight test is horseshit, Ryan.” Shane smirks, leaning back in his chair languidly with his hands behind his head, “As to the rest of those, the demons and ghosties gotta work harder than that, cause right now they don’t seem very interesting.”

  “How dare you! They’re more than interesting. They were all people once.”

“Let’s list what they’ve done, hmm? Jostling toothpaste, nudging bouncy balls, whispers so gentle you can’t even–”

“Nope I’m not letting you trivialize the evidence, it was fucking creepy to hear those on location.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a wimp.”

“Fuck you.” Ryan shoots back, but there’s no real feeling behind it. He pulls a serious face to match Shane’s, squaring his shoulders and oh watch how fast he folds now. 

The other man’s joy is infectious, and soon Ryan is joining him, their laughs swallowed up by the high ceilings and far walls. Ryan’s eyes catch on the lights shining down on Shane, tracing golden lines along the edges of his lanky figure against the shadowed monotony of conference rooms. Breathless and curling into themselves, their gazes meet and linger across five feet of space.

They’re just two guys working into the small hours of the night, just another aspect of their life that their ghost hunting career has bled into, it’s all normal. 

Except it isn’t. 

Neither of them needs to be here to work, least of all Shane, and really, Ryan thinks with a twist in his chest, it has just been the two of them spending time in each other’s company. And Ryan does genuinely enjoy it. He loves the ease of their interactions, how they can hound each other mercilessly and bicker, how Shane can poke that special unhinged laugh out of him and make him forget about everything else. 

And how he, in turn, can make the big guy’s eyes all curvy and bright like no one does. 

But there’s no use thinking about things like that. 

There could be, a small voice says, a light shining weak in the churning abyss. Ryan passes a hand over his face and keeps it there, not trusting himself to not let his heart spill right out. 

“Ryan?”

He had thought he found the one with Helen, the person in the world he’d like to spend his life with, but then things had started falling apart, and she had left. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Ryan knows, but he had gotten used to having someone to come home to, someone who knows him for who he is. 

You can have that again, the voice goes on small and determined, and Ryan wishes he could block it out. Isn’t he always good at that on their investigations? It was basically in the fucking job description. 

You just have to let yourself see.

Shane is safe, someone to trust, someone to rely on. No one else would have born with him all the times he lost his mind in those haunted places. No one else would have hummed Mama Mia to him constantly in those first days when Ryan hid the pain so well on camera, knowing the familiar tune would take the tears away, if only for a minute. Just one Shane Madej hailing from the Land of Lincoln, his co-host, his best friend, and the most important constant grounding him while the rest of his world is turned up-side-down. 

“You okay buddy?” There is a sharp tone in Shane’s voice, and Ryan belatedly realizes his eyes are wet. Shane’s face is flushed from laughing, but now he leans forward and there is suddenly so much care in the slight tension of his shoulders that Ryan wants to cry. 

He can’t risk losing this, he doesn’t know what he would do if he manages to fuck up this last good thing in his life. 

“Yeah,” He gives the other man a small smile, turning back to his screen to start up the video again, and he feels Shane relaxing back into his chair reluctantly. 

Soon he’s leaning forward again, attention rapt on every little detail Ryan had painstakingly compiled. 

“Hmm, didn’t you make a face at that point?” Shane taps a finger against his chin, eyes narrowed in concentration as Ryan reaches out to pause the replay, the lines of blue and yellow stark against the black background. 

“Oh, that? I didn’t think it would anyone would be interested to see it.” Ryan’s fingers tap at the keys for a few seconds, pulling up the clip from the front camera and overlaying it on the video. 

"I didn’t know it was gonna scare ya.” Screen-Shane says, tipping his head to the side and schooling his face into an impressive mask of innocence as he batted his eyes at screen-Ryan.

In-real-life Ryan feels warmth coil in his chest at the memory, and he smiles as he watches himself sputter for a bit, finally settling on a determined, You know what you did. He actually huffs out a laugh at his piss poor attempt to look intimidating, when the camera angle in the VO booth put Shane so much clearly taller. 

On the screen, Shane’s looking down at Ryan with a grin, though he at least has the self-awareness to look a little sheepish. Their eyes lock, and with an appropriate pause for dramatic effect, “I do.”

The clip takes another few seconds to end, their raucous laughter sound from his speakers. Then Ryan’s left with the still of both of them looking at the camera, frozen grins bright on their faces, captured in time. 

And Ryan’s caught in fucking limbo again, his free hand flexing in on empty air at the edge of his desk.  

“Good stuff huh?” Shane’s voice is quiet. 

“Yeah.” Breathe, just breathe, how is that so hard? It shouldn’t be this hard. 

“You considering switching the text out for this?” There’s a smile in Shane’s voice, and Ryan clears his throat and drags in a shuddering breath. 

“No it's—I’ll uh, I’ll put it in.” He hears Shane wheeling close on his chair, but he doesn’t turn to look, locking his eyes on the monitor and busying himself with the familiar shifts and adjustments. He just needs a bit of time to clear his head, then he’ll recover the ability to be a half-decent friend again, he’s sure of it. 

Ryan’s got his cursor hovering over the clip, leaning forward to keep an eye on the time markings when Shane loses a soft breath, his voice an awed murmur. 

“God, you’re so cute when you’re focused." 

And Ryan’s world freezes over. 

Around the edges of his vision, he sees realization, surprise, and something like fear flit across the other man’s face. But Ryan doesn’t do much, just holds as still as he can, like he can stamp down the giddy hope in his chest before it even has a chance to rise, so he can convince himself that it’s all just a freakishly detailed fever dream, because Shane can’t have just said that. 

Shane saw him as a friend, nothing more. Ryan does want that to be true, he really should. 

Breathing is becoming such a fucking bother again, he thinks absently. Maybe if he didn’t do it, life would be much easier. 

"Oh-oh god I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that, what kind of shitty friend am I—just,” Shane breaks off, dragging both hands through his hair and tugging in frustration. When he finally speaks he sounds broken, voice thick as if he’s holding back tears, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s all too much, there’s a loud rushing in Ryan’s head. He bolts out of his chair, needing the freedom in space to think, to process. His chest tightens when Shane flinches at the sudden movement, eyes wide, fingers white where they’ve wrapped around the arm of his chair in a death grip.

He needs air, Ryan thinks, and his feet start carrying him away, faster and faster. But Shane follows him, and it has always been like this, he supposes. Ryan takes the lead and Shane hops on for the ride, for better or for worse, always a steady presence at his side when he needs him the most. Sometimes even when he doesn’t want to.

Shane’s steps close in and he catches at Ryan’s arm, “Ryan wait, please.”

Ryan blinks hard, but he doesn’t get to wake up this time. Shane’s fingers are burning points of pressure on his mind. 

He opens his mouth to speak but there’s a strange taste, two cool lines trace down his face and his vision is swimming, and oh wouldn’t it just be perfect if he blacked out, poor little Ryan, can’t even take a fucking joke without fainting—

“Oh god, don’t cry Ry, please, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Was it a fucking joke.” Ryan bites out, voice barely louder than a whisper but it still comes out harsher than he means. He can’t look at Shane, so Ryan keeps his eyes down, stares at the mud on Shane’s boots from their last shoot. He needs to know. 

“No,” Hurt, that’s what it is, and there’s far too much of it in Shane’s voice for it to be right. “No it wasn’t.” Shane lets go of Ryan’s hand to curls an arm around himself, and Ryan aches for the burning contact like it’s a physical wound. 

“Oh.” It’s more a punched out puff of air than a word. Oh.

“I-” Shane swallows, eyes shifting then settling back on Ryan, “I was looking at you, and it-it slipped out, I’m sorry.”

The silence isn’t complete, of course it isn’t. The sound of traffic exists at all hours of the day here. But it still envelops Ryan, wrapping around his throat and trying to suffocate the words he’s struggling to form. 

“Don’t be."  

"What?” Shane breathes, hesitant, almost disbelieving, his eyes dart to search Ryan’s face, “you’re not saying—do you—”

“I think I can.” Ryan says, and he tastes truth on his tongue. 

Not now, not even tomorrow, but maybe next week, or the week after that.

“You do?"  

"I do.” He affirms, and Ryan’s throat closes up with something warm when a lopsided grin starts to form on Shane’s face, small and hopeful, a gentle flush creeping onto his cheeks. They’re just standing in the office looking at each other, and Shane’s hand lifts up a little as if to reach out, but he catches himself before it makes it into Ryan’s personal space. 

“You wanna head back home? I’ll pack the popcorn.” Ryan can’t really breathe, so he just nods and offers Shane a watery smile. 

Their fingers brush when Ryan hands Shane a blanket for the couch, the corners of Shane’s eyes are crinkling and Ryan is breathless. He’s been feeling like that a lot tonight, and it seems that life is determined to keep him that way with all the curveballs it’s been chucking at him. 

But this time it’s not a bad feeling. Not at all. 

He fiddles with his sleeve and watches Shane settle down, making his way around his apartment with a familiarity accumulated over years’ worth of movie nights and beers and popcorn. 

It’s still too soon, and he doesn’t think he can do anything about this whole thing he’s got himself into. But he’s got Shane with him, and for once Ryan’s not afraid he’s going to leave. 

And maybe, Ryan thinks. Maybe one day he won’t need to hide from his apartment and its empty spaces. 

[collecting-stories]

Plans - Alfie Solomons

Hey babe! Can I have 90 and 102 with Alfie Solomons, please?

Plans | Alfie Solomons x reader

Alfie stood in the kitchen, his frown set as he looked you over. There was a small basket with supplies that sat beside you, mostly just whiskey and bandages. He was examining the cut on your forehead, holding your chin in his hand as he inspected the injury, frown never fading to anything more sympathetic. Despite the delicacy with which he was treating your cut he was nothing but apathetic as he took care of you.  

“That stings.” You whined, rather undignified, as he pressed an alcohol doused rag against the bleeding cut.

“Does it?” He pressed a little harder and then eased up, “I imagine it fucking would. Ya know what though, it wouldn’t if ya’d just done what I said right?”

“I did what you said.” You replied defensively, though you knew it was a lie even as you said it.  

Alfie had made himself extremely clear this morning as he as preparing to leave for work. Something was going on down near the docks and he planned to take care of it and knowing your natural proclivity for snooping in places he felt you didn’t belong, he had told you to stay home. But he knew as well as anyone that your ability to listen and follow directions left much to be desired.  

“If you thought that’s what I said then you weren’t listening.”

“I was.” You insisted, though you both knew it was a lie. You’re selective hearing had picked up all the details of the goings on at the dock and none of his warning to stay home, “honest.”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you had listened,” he replied.  

You frowned, crossing your arms. He pressed the alcohol-doused rag against your head again and you flinched away this time as it burned the cut. Alfie hadn’t found you, Ollie had. You’d followed two of the men who worked shifts at the warehouse over to the docks to see what it was they might be doing and discovered them selling off Alfie’s stock for a fraction of the price. Your plan, though poorly executed was not as poorly thought out. First, you would discover what these men were doing. Which you had, without a hitch. Then you would return to the warehouse as if you were just visiting Alfie on lunch, which you often did, and tell him about your findings in the office. The whole plan, in your head, seemed flawless and easy but you should have known that things were never that good.  

A rickety board on the dock had given away your hiding place and you’d only been able to run halfway to the warehouse before the two men caught up with you. They were both easily recognizable and you had been around Alfie too long to let a beating scare you but it had still hurt. You had ached, laying in that alleyway willing yourself to stand long enough that you could find your boss and occasional bedfellow. Instead it was Ollie who found you, which would have been fine if he hadn’t insisted on carting you right back to Alfie.

“What if this’d been worse?” Alfie asked, pressing the rag with just the slightest bit too much pressure. You winced but his other hand on the back of your head kept you in place.  

“It wasn’t?” You offered, sheepish. It wasn’t worse but Alfie was right. It could’ve been. Ollie could’ve found a corpse in that alley.

“That’s not the point though right? The point is...it could’ve been. The point is we could’ve been digging you a grave right now not mending a scratch.”

“I think it’s a bit more serious than a scratch.” You replied, gesturing to the wound that had just now stopped bleeding. And if you hadn’t liked the alcohol you definitely weren’t going to like the stitches.  

“Ya know, even when you’re annoying the fuck out of me I still love you.” Alfie laughed, wiping the last remenants of blood off your face. “but I’m still fucking pissed you went and did this. You should’ve brought Ollie along, or Goliath.”

“Next time I will.” You promised.  

Alfie turned to look back at you, the frown on his face looking graver than before though you hadn’t imagined that being possible. He let out a long sigh, as if preparing for battle and perhaps he was. You had a way of making him feel vulnerable and defensive all at the same time. He clenched his fist around the rag, whiskey staining his hand. “There won’t be a next time.”  

“Not immediately but if I took Ollie and we had a proper watch of them and we didn’t make ourselves known...it was perfect this time Alfie. Aside from the end,” you replied, imaginarily dusting away your feelings. “the rest was flawless.”

“You say that because you can still speak and you aren’t dying somewhere.” He pointed out. He wasn’t impressed by your calm attitude and took it for you misunderstanding the severity of the situation. And maybe, in a way, you did. At no point, even as you were beaten in the alley, did you think that you had acted foolishly. You didn’t even consider the possibility of not making it out alive.  

“I say that because it was a good plan. I’m not helpless Alfie.”

“I didn’t say that you were. I said that you should be more careful.”

“And next time I will be.” You repeated.

“You really are the most thickheaded person I’ve met.” Alfie remarked, “and that’s saying something cause I got Goliath working for me.”

“I’m not thickheaded, I’m confident.” You replied, “please Alf, let me help. I’ve been there once, I can get there again. And this time I won’t get caught and you won’t have to tend to my wounds.”  

“Don’t matter what I say, you won’t listen anyway.”  

“So then let me.”

“Let this heal first.” He reasoned, leaning over and placing a kiss against the bandage on your head.  

_

taglist: @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox @danceyreagan @listensweettea @5secondsofjoal @breathlesssouls @kingsmanstories @woeisbutwoe @another-life-addict @my-life-as-a-fangirl  @glopsifum @johhnshelby @mysticthinking @44garbage @darkestbeforethedawn16 @alexacj @dracodormiensnunquamtitillandush @mainokutan  @loserrlauraa @spotted-possibilities @thewallpapergoesorido @shane-isa-shame @worship-jcdhbc  @jupitervalentine @starryrevelation @fangirlfreakingout @enrapturedbythemoon 

[2-fandom-2-furious]

BFU Detective!AU Chapter 2

TW: The reader is a murderer, and they and the boys are hunting a serial killer, so mentions of death.

Read it on AO3

“This place sure is… Woodsy.”

You could feel Shane and Ryan’s unimpressed stares burning into your back. You smiled anyway. You knew they secretly found you funny.

“Good eye. This place is pretty woodsy. It’s a forest. To be more specific, a forest that a body was found in this morning.” Ryan deadpanned. “Come on, we have some walking to do.”

You blinked, taking a moment to process. Out of all of the reasons you’d anticipated for this afternoon walk, that had been pretty far down the list. You figured Ryan was just taking a hike to stretch his legs- gotta stay fit, after all.

 So had the killer struck again like you’d predicted? Or was this unrelated business that they had dragged you along for? I suppose they could still have other facets of their jobs they have to take care of. And they can’t exactly leave me alone at the hotel.

“So. A body, huh? You wanna give some more details on that, Ry guy?” You slammed the car door shut behind you and sprinted to catch up to Ryan’s head start. You didn’t worry much about leaving Shane behind to lock up. He had long legs, he would catch up just fine.

“In due time.” He kept his focus ahead, face wiped clean of emotion. Behind you, the easily distinguishable sound of boots in mud made itself apparent.

“Come on, Ryan. Stop with the weird ‘mysterious facade’ and tell us why we’re walking through the woods.” Shane’s voice was good natured, as usual, but you could easily see that Ryan was only growing more tense as he spoke.

“You got the same report I did this morning. How about you read it?” Ryan snapped, and you cringed. When you turned to see how Shane took it, he was already facing you, eyebrows raised and expression incredulous.

Ryan’s shoulders were tensed, and you could hear him mumbling under his breath. You sidestepped a bit until you and Shane were only a few inches away, walking in silent, concerned solidarity.

Beside you, Shane pulled out his phone. You momentarily debated whether or not to peek at his screen, but before you could decide, he passed it over to you.

On the screen was a brief but official police report, and you instantly knew that you probably weren’t supposed to see it. You also probably weren’t supposed to be heading to the crime scene, being a wanted criminal and enemy of the law and all, but alas.

You skimmed over the report, taking note of the rather graphic photos and descriptions. This time was less sloppy than the last, if only a little.

“Think it’s the same killer?” Shane asked, keeping his voice quiet enough to stay under Ryan’s radar, lest he go off again.

“Without a doubt.” You could already see the pattern beginning. You guessed the first kill had been an accident, although what type of accident you weren’t sure. Had they accidentally killed the victim in a fit of rage without realizing what they were doing? Or had it been more of a freak accident involving something sharp? 

Either way, you deduced from the pictures that the killing blow had been a stab to the right lung. The same as today’s victim. An odd trademark to be sure, but definitely a trademark.

Shane didn’t question your answer, and you wondered if he picked up on the same thing you did. Probably. This is his job, after all. You’d be a little disappointed if he didn’t notice the obvious parallel between the deaths.

Shane tucked his phone back into his pocket, and you both turned your attention back to Ryan, who looked no less tense than he had before.

“Is it me, or is something up with him?” you whispered. Shane shrugged.

“I don’t know. He’s usually like this when we have to deal with bodies or messy crime scenes, but he does seem a bit worse today.” 

From Shane’s tone, you gathered that ‘a bit worse’ meant ‘concerningly worse’. You were almost endeared by how much worry he seemed to have for his friend and partner, but you were a bit too distracted with avoiding tripping over debris and tree roots to really appreciate it.

For maybe half a mile, the three of you hiked in silence.

“Alright guys, wait here.” It was the first time Ryan had spoken since he’d flipped out, and you were surprised by how subdued he sounded. 

You watched as he straightened, standing taller and more confidently. He didn’t even turn to face you and Shane, just marched into a clearing a few yards ahead.

“So. This is the place, huh?” you toed at the ground, attempting at casualty.

"Yup, our first stop on our way to catching a murderer."

"Besides me, you mean." You teased, going for a joke to lighten things. 

"Yeah," Shane looked away, and you followed his example, practically able to taste the awkwardness that had suddenly risen like a fog, "besides you."

You and Shane stood in silence for a moment. Clearly, the joke missed.

How long is it gonna take Ryan to get the clear to bring Shane and I down? You thought, bitterly. Normally Shane was easy company. Not today, apparently.

Honestly, why did you have to remind him that you’re a serial killer? Great job, making things awkward. 

“Alright.” You nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping your gaze up to see Ryan, tapping his foot impatiently and looking tired. “Come on, we only have a few minutes. They aren’t too keen on having another serial killer on the scene.” You felt the venom in Ryan’s tone at the word ‘killer’.

You bowed your head a bit, playing up your shame at being called a serial killer. In truth? You couldn’t bring yourself to dislike it. It was a bit exciting, really, having your hobby recognized, and by a lead detective nonetheless. Here he was, one of the highest authorities in town, and he had dubbed you practically untouchable. He’d gone so far as to ask for your help.

“Did you explain that I’m helping, or…?”

“No. I don’t need to explain myself.” A bit of pride filtered through Ryan’s tone, and you smiled. That was more like it, you’d take anything over his behavior earlier. Though, you could still see his fingers fidgeting uneasily with his shirt sleeves.

“Well, what do you say we give those other officers a bit of reassurance?” You peered over Ryan’s shoulder, taking note of how they quickly looked at anything but you. “They seem a bit antsy, don’t they?”

Ryan turned to take a look for himself. When he looked back to you, he remained silent, an eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“I guess?”

“I mean, I’m a killer, you know? I’m dangerous and cunning,” you paused, allowing Shane to scoff and roll his eyes, before continuing, “and most of all, I’m unpredictable.”

“What are you getting at?” Ryan narrowed his eyes, half suspicion, half impatience. You could tell you had his attention.

“I’m just saying, I’m a bit of a wild card. And letting me roam around unrestrained? That’s a pretty risky move, Bergara.” You watched as Shane crossed his arms over his chest, annoyance written across his features. Get to the point.

“Please, either of us could tackle you to the ground at a moments notice.”

You pretended to inspect your nails, reveling in the way Ryan restlessly tapped his foot against the earth. You let them wait. “Yeah, you could,” you drawled, pausing yet again just to piss them off. “But they don’t know that.”

You watched as Shane and Ryan exchanged a look. You sighed.

“Ryan, I’m giving you a chance to look cool. Enhance your reputation? Indulge your ego? Are you getting me?” You waved your hands impatiently.

“Oh. So, you’re saying I should-”

“Cuff me! Yes!” You interrupted. “Make a big show of telling me to stay in line, maybe even push me around a little!” 

Ryan and Shane shared yet another look. “Why would you want us to do that?” Shane asked, after a moment.

“Because it’ll be fun!” 

In truth, you were just sick of Ryan being testy. The way you figured, looking tough in front of his colleagues couldn’t hurt his mood, and letting him cuff you and be bossy wouldn’t hurt you either. If you wanted to get away, you would, handcuffs or not.

However, that doesn’t matter, because Ryan quickly deems your answer to be honest. He gestures for Shane to give him his handcuffs, which he does without argument. During this exchange, you take a moment to look at how ruffled their clothes are. Amazing how quick they were to run off to a cheap motel with a criminal; they hadn’t even thought to bring spare clothes.

You turned your back to Ryan and compliantly positioned your hands, hearing the quiet ‘click’ of the cuffs and taking gleeful notice in how loose they were. How sweet of him.

And so, into the clearing you went. You did your best to look dispirited as the boys marched you under the caution tape surrounding the scene. Did they really need to use so much tape? You wondered, eyeing the nearly thirty foot wreath of yellow and black. You doubted many people hiked in this part of the woods. Then again, somebody must have, considering the body was fresh when it was discovered.

There were three police officers standing around the edges of the tape circle. Two of them seemed to be doing their best to avoid making eye contact with you, while the other couldn’t seem to look away. You threw your most intimidating glare his way, and did your best not to look smug when he immediately turned his focus to his shoes. 

Ryan gave you a small push, and you took the hint, stumbling slightly on purpose and shuffling forward a bit faster.

“Keep moving!” he snarled. But there was an underlying eagerness in his tone. He was living for the rapt attention he was getting. 

The officers refocused on you, eyes wide and attentive in reaction to Ryan’s boldness. You mellowed your voice as much as you could without it being obvious that you were faking, and answered him with a shaky, ‘yes sir’.

The police officers were flabbergasted, which you took to mean that you had been pretty convincing. After another few seconds of you shuffling closer to the crime scene, one of them spoke.

“Well, Officer Bergara-”

“Detective.”

The woman who’d spoken looked taken aback. Ryan held his ground.

“Sorry, Detective Bergara. We’re going to head out and leave you to it.” 

“Alright.”

She and the other two officers didn’t move, at first. They stood where they were and watched Ryan guide you forward, undeniably curious. You kept your head bowed and eyes forward. You stopped moving when you saw the remnants of blood.

“What are you waiting for? Isn’t it your lunch break, rookies?” Ryan tossed over his shoulder.

None of the other officers responded, but they didn’t really need to. Their feelings were written clearly across their faces, meekness and embarrassment being the most prominent. They ducked under the tape and made their exit, the woman who’d previously spoken leading the way, her steps quick and long in her rush to be away from the site.

“Damn, Detective B, that was pretty rude.”

“I can put you back in jail, you know.”

“Yeah, but you won’t.” You winked at him. You heard him scoff in response and grinned, flashing a look to Shane just to make sure he noticed Ryan’s change in demeanor, too.

Indeed, he did, because he was grinning right back at you, giving a sly thumbs up.

“Alright, hold still.” Ryan commanded, moving behind you. You froze, momentarily thrown off balance. What’s he doing?

Then, you heard a quiet ‘click’ and felt the weight of your handcuffs fall from your wrists, and, presumably, into Ryan’s palms.

A small thrill ran through you, and it took all you had to conceal your delight. Ryan could have simply kept you cuffed, there was no reason not to. In truth, it would’ve been wiser to do just that. But he had just loosed you as if it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

The best part, truly, was that neither of them even realized how big of a deal this was. Shane was re-attaching his handcuffs to their place on his belt, and Ryan was preparedly unfolding an evidence baggy and pulling on his gloves. Neither of them was even bothering to give you a second glance. Both of them had their guard down.

Around a notorious killer.

Which was, now that you think about it, pretty stupid. As fun as it was to think of yourself as a cunning and smooth, sweet-talking criminal, you knew better than to think you were slick enough to gain this much of their trust this quickly. Any experienced detective, or officer, for that matter, should know better than to give the enemy the benefit of the doubt, especially when the ‘enemy’ has been known to kill people over Pop-Tarts.

You almost felt bad, honestly. If they continued to trust criminals this way, eventually they were going to get stabbed in the back.

You shook your head. You had a job to do right now, better to ponder Shane and Ryan’s stupidity later.

“So, fellas, just what are we going to do here? The body isn’t here anymore. All we really have to work with is some bloodsoaked leaves.” You gestured to your left, to some leaves, which were, as stated, rather bloody.

“The scene can hold just as many clues as the body itself. The local police are incompetant-”

“Hey!” Shane interrupted.

“-present company excluded.” Ryan continued, “So, it’s likely there’s something here they missed.”

“I don’t know, Ryan, It’s looking pretty barren.” Shane commented.

“I agree with the big guy. He can see everything from up there, and it doesn’t seem like there’s all that much catching his eye.”

You could see Ryan beginning to grow tense again, so you added, quickly, “But, maybe we can get some sort of clue from the location itself.”

That got his attention. Only, judging by how quick he was to open his mouth again, probably not for long.

“If you’re implying we should look for a pattern in where the bodies are being dropped off, forget it.” He deflated. “There’s only two victims, and there’s nothing in common location wise. Just random body dumps.”

“No matter what, there’s always a pattern of some sort.”

“What about with you? You never had an identifiable pattern.” Shane pointed out.

“Actually, I did. The one thing my victims all had in common was that they all pissed me off.” 

Ryan and Shane both rolled their eyes. 

“Can you be serious for a minute? People are dying!” Ryan ran a gloved hand through his hair exasperatedly. One look at Shane told you that he was beginning to side with the other man, too.

“I am being serious. Work with me here, alright? Uh, ok, what was the last guy’s name? Eric-something, right?” you snapped your fingers in an attempt to jog your memory.

“Eric Daly.”

“Good, ok. Where did Eric live?”

“Why does it matter? The victims aren’t related, we already checked. As far as we know, they’ve never met.” Shane said.

“That isn’t what I asked. I asked where he lived.”

Ryan reached for his phone, unlocking it and beginning to scroll.

“Don’t read me the address, take me there. We need a visual. While you’re at it, has this body been identified?” 

Ryan nodded, beginning to scroll faster. “Yeah, her name was Ruth Bullock. Her wallet was still in her pocket, but there was no cash, just her ID and a credit card.”

Shane stepped closer and cleared his throat to get your attention.

“First of all, take it easy.” He gave you a pointed look. You chose not to let it discourage you; you were on a roll right now. “Second, you don’t find it odd that the killer left her credit card?”

“Not at all. Credit cards can be tracked.” You said.

“Alright, I’ve got both of the addresses. You wanna get going now?” Ryan asked, to which you promptly nodded.

“Whoa, whoa. Why? Did we just hike out here for nothing?” Shane positioned his hands on his hips like a mother scolding a toddler.

“I guess so, yeah. There’s nothing useful to the case here, and if there was, the other officers probably picked it up. Unless you feel like there’s something else we need to do here?” 

You mimicked his action, and stepped towards him, chest puffed and an eyebrow raised dramatically in mock-challenge. Shane yielded, huffing dramatically and shaking his head.

“No, I guess not.” He looked to Ryan. 

“How far is the first victim’s place?”

“Probably about a half hour. It shouldn’t be too hard to find, though. I’m pretty sure it’s just down the road from my apartment.”

“Eh, still. Just GPS it to be safe.” Shane commented.

You nodded your approval, and surveyed the scene one more time. Nothing caught your eye, and you almost felt disappointed. Where was the fun, piece-it-all-together mystery? One of the best parts of mystery movies and novels is the big reveal, after all. Where the protagonist figures it all out right after it seems all is lost. But you can’t piece it all together if there aren’t any clues.

Stop pretending this is a movie. This is real life, there isn’t always a big reveal. You never had one, after all, you scolded yourself.

“You coming?”

You twisted around, and tried to cover up how startled you were. You need to focus.

Shane was a good few hundred yards away, and Ryan wasn’t far behind. Ryan looked from Shane, to you, and back, and you took the hint, leaping into a sprint to catch up with them. You slowed upon reaching Ryan’s side, taking a few seconds to catch your breath.

When you turned to address Ryan, he was already looking at you, the corner of his mouth quirked down in what you assumed was worry. After a moment, he spoke.

“Are you… alright?” he spared a glance back at the clearing, as if he would see whatever it was you’d been staring off at.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” You took a deep breath, and exhaled it, allowing your shoulders to relax. “See? I’m chill. As the kids would say, I’m-”

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Gucci.”

“Goddamn it.”

But you didn’t miss his muted chuckle, or the humored look in his eye. So, you consider your awful use of slang worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Purple carpet and yellow walls? Maybe this guy deserved to get murdered.” 

You raised one of your hands expectantly, and weren’t surprised in the slightest when Shane high fived you. The man had too much taste not to.

Getting in had been a bit of a challenge. Ryan wasn’t in any mood to go to the police station and ask for the keys, but, it seemed, he also wasn’t in the mood to try your idea to get in. You didn’t really know why. The guy was dead, what difference would a smashed window on his house make?

In the end it didn’t matter, because Ryan, being his detective self, had a lockpick kit in his car. He made semi-quick work of getting everyone inside, although looking at the decor, you almost wished he had left his kit at the hotel.

“Oh my god, Ryan! You have to come see this!” Shane cackled. You were near enough to see that it was a decorative throw pillow. On it was a rather cartoony rendition of a ghost, and, while you thought it was cute and fitting to the almost-autumn season, you didn’t quite understand the significance.

Ryan brushed past you, clearly curious as to Shane’s find, and immediately deflated.

“Oh, fuck you!” he laughed.

“Wait, I don’t get the joke?” Shane and Ryan turned to you, quickly catching onto your puzzlement.

“Little Ry guy here believes in ghosties.” Shane explained, patting Ryan’s shoulder mockingly.

“Only because they’re real! Honestly, the fact that you don’t believe in them is just-” Ryan began heatedly, before you cut him off.

“Whoa there, fellas. Ghost stories later, murder stories now. Look around for anything that might signify he was threatened, or something. Evidence that someone had a grudge against this guy.”

“And if we don’t find anything, what? We wasted a day and broke into a house for no reason?” Shane asked. “Not that I’m against that, I love some good, old fashioned breaking and entering. But I’m just saying, the longer we take to solve this, the more victims there’ll be.”

“Well, if we don’t find anything here, we go to the next victim’s house. And believe me, I’m aware of the stakes.”

“But do you care?” Shane asked, his tone goading.

You opened your mouth, ready to lay it on him, when Ryan quite literally stepped between you.

“Shane, enough. We were joking around just a few seconds ago. Things are tense, I get it, but let’s save the fighting for when we’re not breaking the law.” 

Shane visibly relaxed, sighing quietly and looking away. You were surprised at how quick he was to obey, he’d, seemingly, been ready to throw down just a minute ago. Still, you weren’t complaining, this was much better. He absentmindedly picked at the ghost pillow, and Ryan stepped aside. 

“Come on, keep looking around. If you find anything, let me know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You found nothing. Nothing of importance, at least. The second victim’s apartment was equally as barren of evidence, and it seemed, as far as you could tell, that neither of them had ever met each other, which shut down that potential connection before it could even be proposed. Until someone close to the victims came forward with any possible clues, there really wasn’t all that much that could be done.

Discouraged, you and the boys headed back to the hotel, stopping for Burger King on the way and eating in silence in the car. 

By the time you made it back to the hotel, the sun had gone down and you were exhausted.

You collapsed onto the shitty mattress, knowing you’d wake up with an aching back and not managing to care. You were out almost instantly, your eyes falling shut and your mind shutting down. The last thing you saw was the burning red numbers of the alarm clock and the bedside table, imprinting 10:12 P.M. on the inside of your eyelids. You dream of nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake to the same sight you fell asleep to; the glow of red numbers. 2:29 A.M. It seems much harsher now than it had earlier; more of an angry glare than the gentle illumination it had been. You’re still tired, and after a moment, you press your head back into the cheap and flat expanse of your pillow. Shane is fast asleep and snoring on the equally small and shitty bed on the other side of the night stand, and you’re more than content to let the sound lull you back to sleep.

Only, you can’t.

Something is wrong, and to be quite frank, it’s annoying as hell.

Sleeping under these conditions is already difficult, but once you fall asleep, you should be able to stay that way until morning. Whatever it is that’s keeping you up is a pain in the ass. 

You take a moment to work up the energy to open your eyes, caught in the purgatory between sleep and consciousness. When you finally pry your eyes open and scan the room, it’s apparent what was wrong, and perhaps what had woken you up in the first place. Ryan was gone.

His cot of blankets was scattered all over the floor, and really, what a shitty thing to just leave laying there. Shane or you could trip on your way to the bathroom if you weren’t looking where you were going. How inconsiderate.

Still, in a way, it makes things seem even more wrong. He must have left in a hurry, and saying you weren’t curious as to why would be a blatant lie.

You scooch your way to the edge of the bed, and creep out of the room,stopping only to grab a room key. You pass the front desk, where the attendant hardly spares you a glance, focused intently on a rerun of some baseball game playing on an outdated and low quality TV on the wall.

As you step out into the parking lot, you begin to wish you’d bothered to put your shoes on. The asphalt is cool to match the changing of seasons, and you don’t doubt that it’s littered with glass by the way it sparkles in the weak light of the half moon. Still, you step forward, turning every which way in hopes that you’ll spot Ryan. 

And you do.

You just barely see him, hunched over and sitting on the concrete of the sidewalk. He’s on the side of the parking lot with the fewest cars, and from the looks of him, he’s far from alright.

You take a hesitant step towards him, but stop almost instantly when a car speeds down the road, headlights flashing in the corner of your eye. You turn slowly to look. No other cars follow, and the air stills again.

I could go. I don’t have to stay here.

You’re almost floored by the fact that this is the first time the thought has occured to you. It’s true; despite your agreement, you don’t have to stay here. The living arrangements were less than exemplary, and the only reason you had agreed to help was due to the promise of freedom. But you could just go now, there was nothing stopping you. And who’s to say that they would keep their end of the bargain anyway?

You turn to face Ryan again, and watch as a visible shudder runs through him. Another car races past behind you, and you make up your mind.

You take a few more careful steps in Ryan’s direction, mindful of the obvious broken bottles, and manage to not step on any glass. Which, in truth, is quite the accomplishment. 

You get close enough to see that he’s shaking, and you feel your heart drop at the sight. Jeez, what happened? 

“Ryan.” Your voice is too loud, practically echoing through the parking lot. Ryan jolts, and you cringe. “Sorry.”

By now, he’s turned to face you, and your heart sinks even lower at dark circles beneath his eyes, and at just how disheveled he looked. This wasn’t the effect of having just climbed out of bed; this was distress in its purest form.

A few steps closer, and you find yourself sitting down gingerly beside him. He’s still looking at you in silence.

“Uh, how long have you been out here?” the additional question of ‘and why?’ goes unsaid, but you can tell he catches it.

“Don’t worry about it.” His voice is hoarse, and you’re hit with an icy shock as you realize that he’s been crying.

“Too late. I’m worried.” You try to chuckle, but your words had come out much more wobbly than you intended, not humorous enough and far too genuine for your liking.

He gives you a weak smile, and you do your best to return it. 

“I feel kinda stupid right now, to be honest.” He admits.

You tilt your head, silently urging him to go on.

He takes a deep breath, and when he exhales, his breath is subtly visible. It’s colder out than you thought.

“It was just a nightmare. I don’t know why it rattled me so much, but-” he clenches his jaw and clips his sentence abruptly.

His voice is strained and muted, raw with emotion, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You begin to open your mouth to ask him for more details, but he shakes his head, and you obey.

Things are quiet for a bit, after that; a merciful silence for both of you. Somewhere nearby, a cricket chirps, and if things weren’t so somber, you’d laugh at the timing.

“How do you do it?”

You flinch at how harsh the sudden noise is in contrast to the stillness of the night air, but you’re over it quickly, attention moving to how intently he’s looking at you. You play dumb.

“Do what?”

“You know.” His voice is pitiful, a defeated croak. “Kill people.” He adds, but you know he’s aware you understood perfectly well the first time.

“Usually with a knife?” Now isn’t the time for jokes, and you know it, you know it, you know it. But by now it’s second nature, and you aren’t in the mood to try and fight it.

“Why?”

That’s a damn good question. Why do you do it?

Maybe just because you can. Maybe simply because it’s just so easy to do it. So easy to slip away from the scene, away from the bright and flashy blue and red lights. Maybe you like the chase of it, the feeling of being pursued by the very best, and still always being one step ahead.

Maybe you like the attention; seeing your face on national TV, knowing you have to be oh-so-careful or else you could be recognized, but being careless anyways just so you can continue to outrun everyone else. Continue to be the best at the worst possible thing.

Maybe it’s just your nature. Maybe you were born ruined. Maybe you’re just a sick fuck and always have been. It could really be as simple as that. 

You say none of this.

Ryan’s looking at you, but you’re staring down at the faded white paint lines of the parking lot, just to have something to focus on.

When you do respond, it’s not an answer to his question.

“The nightmare isn’t the only thing bothering you, is it?”

He looks a bit stunned, so you give him a minute, before repeating yourself.

“No. I guess not.” It’s his turn to pretend the parking lot has something interesting to offer, and you smile bitterly, wondering if his train of thought is anywhere as serious as yours had been a moment ago.

In the face of silence, you decide to keep talking, nerves rising and forcing words out of you.

“You’ve been weird all day today. You’re irritable and fidgety and snappy. What is it about this case that has you so bothered? I mean, you do this for a living, you can’t always be like this.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You weren’t expecting him to give the admission so freely, but you don’t miss the tension that leaves him after saying it, so rather than teasing him, you stay quiet and let him speak.

“Something is different about this case. It’s sticking with me, and,” he huffs out a breath humorlessly, “It’s fucking awful.”

He goes on, “I can’t get it out of my head. It isn’t just a passion for solving the case. I have to. I have to get this over with, or I’m going to lose my mind. My skin has just been fucking crawling since that first victim.”

You’re dumbfounded. You honestly hadn’t expected him to spill it all like that. Which isn’t to say you were disappointed that he had, but- damn.

“Then I guess we’d better get on it, huh?” the words came out on their own, and you mentally cursed yourself for not saying something better. Something more comforting, or really anything besides a shittily timed joke.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

In the midst of the awkwardness, you stand, brushing pebbles and bits of gravel from your legs, and offering Ryan a hand to help him up. He takes it wordlessly.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna go in now. Go back to sleep if I can manage, with ol’ officer Shane’s snoring.” You look to the sickly orange light leaking through the doors to the lobby, and move to begin the walk back to the room.

Ryan stops you, though, gripping your forearm and stilling you with ease.

It’s no secret that the two of you have spent most of today purposefully and obviously avoiding eye contact with one another. But Ryan takes that effort and shoves it now, eyes fixed on your own and brimming with intensity. At this angle, the moonlight hits his face nicely, making his eyes look less like their deep brown and more of a light tan, almost unnatural. But nice, nonetheless. 

His hair is messy and flopping down into his face a bit, and if you weren’t so on edge over his sudden serious attitude, you would make fun of him for it.

As it was, you remained where you were, his arm still holding you in place, and his stare still locked on you. 

You could tell he wanted to communicate something to you, something important, and you remained unspeaking, waiting. 

Finally, he slid his hand off your arm, exhaling and slumping over a bit. He looked almost pained, and for a second you were gripped by the urge to change your mind; to leave.

Spoiler: you don’t.

“Are… are you okay?” 

He nods, and when he lifts his head again, he looks just as tired as before, but in much better spirits. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“Well, uh. I’m gonna go in now, if you’ll let me.” He laughs, finally, and you feel a genuine smile capture your lips. Things are gonna be okay.

“I’ll be in in a while. I just need to think for a bit.” 

You nod understandingly, and begin the trek back to the room, content to go back to bed and maybe talk more about everything in the morning.

As you reached for the door handle, expecting and anticipating the wave of warm air the (rickety, but efficient) furnace would provide, you heard a yell of your name.

Facing Ryan once more, you cocked your head, both amused and weary.

For a minute, it seemed like there was meaning in his tone. A type of plead in his eyes. You waited.

“Uh, earlier.” He’s lowered his voice from his initial yell. Shitty hotels aren’t the type of environment where loud noises past midnight are encouraged.

“Yeah?”

He hesitated.

“You, uh. You called Shane an officer.”

“Yes, I did. He kinda is one.”

“No, not really. He- while he’s working with me, he’s considered a detective, too. Just so you know. So he’s Detective Madej, not Officer Madej.”

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, you enter the building. 

You know better than to think that was what he was planning to say. He chickened out of whatever it was, that much was obvious. But now you were curious. Not curious enough to let it keep you up any longer, but definitely curious.

But hey, now you know that you had been calling Shane by the wrong title. Not that you particularly care, of course, but still; you learn something new everyday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Ryan comes inside nearly an hour later, he finds that you’ve not only used one of the hotel issued towels to hold the door open (which is both courtious and idiotic, he thinks, because while he did forget to grab a key in his rush for fresh air and space, anyone could have come into the room), but you’ve also rearranged his nest of blankets on the floor; whether for his benefit or yours, he isn’t sure, but he’s grateful nonetheless.

Shane is snoring peacefully, with his face buried in his pillow and his feet dangling off the bed. Ryan smiles fondly at the near-giant, and moves towards the other bed, stepping lightly in hopes to avoid creaky spots on the worn floor.

You’re tangled in the generic hotel-issued blankets, fingers clenched tightly around the fringe, and your face relaxed. In your sleep, you give a quiet hum, and roll over, keeping the blankets held tightly against you.

This is creepy; watching your friends sleep is creepy, Ryan thinks, turning away. He doesn’t linger on just when you went from being a detainee to a friend in his mind. He doesn’t think about it. It’s not important, it’s not it’s not it’s not.

With a sigh, he turns back to his cot and settles in. He idly wishes to himself that Shane had left the TV on for ambient noise, but as it was, he fell asleep quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’s afraid. She’s terrified, and it shows, because this is the type of terror that you can’t hide. The kind of overtaking fear that makes the concept of even attempting to seem collected pointless.

She screams. Quite a lot actually, but it’s nothing duct tape won’t fix, and it won’t last much longer.

Ruth Bullock was going to die. Whether she had seconds or minutes or hours left, she had no clue. But she knew it. She knew it the second the steps on the gravel behind her had sped up, and she was right.

At 5:44 A.M, she is killed. A fatal puncture to her right lung.

At 6:17 A.M, her body is left at a randomly chosen spot in a nearby forest.

At 7:48 A.M, a young woman hiking with her dog on her day off stumbles upon Ruth’s body.

By 8:32, the scene is taped off and swarming with police. An email has been sent to the case detectives.

Detective Ryan Bergara deals with bodies, with murder, with chasing killers in his day to day life. He is highly regarded in his profession.

But something is different this time.

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Som

Ryan wakes in a cold sweat.

[blacktofade]

“Are you actually mad at me?” Ryan asks as Shane carefully backs out of his parking space. He glances at Ryan as he puts the car into gear, but doesn’t say anything as he drives towards the parking lot exit and smoothly joins the main road.

Ryan blows out a quiet breath and adjusts the seatbelt from where it feels too tight across his chest.

“It just took forever to record the episode,” he says, “and it was so cold in the studio today.”

Shane glances over again and Ryan wonders if maybe he’s getting his point across. Shane holds his gaze, almost long enough for Ryan to worry that he should probably pay attention to the road, but then he turns back, hands at ten and two. Without a word, Shane reaches out and switches on the car’s heating, cranking the dial as high as it’ll go and blasting Ryan with hot air.

“Ugh,” Ryan complains, batting his hands away and turning it off again. It’s almost eighty degrees outside and the additional heat reminds Ryan just how damp he is under his arms. But he also thinks he deserves it a little.

“I’m sorry,” he tries as Shane turns his signal on and gets into the left lane, carefully going around a slow-moving garbage truck. Shane doesn’t even react, like he just doesn’t hear Ryan. They get stopped at the next red light and the car fills with awkward silence. Ryan fiddles with his beanie, pulling it off and ruffling his hair before shoving it back onto his head.

“I wasn’t the only one complaining,” he reasons. “Sara was too.”

“You were being a brat,” Shane snaps finally and Ryan honestly isn’t expecting it. Firstly, Shane never raises his voice to Ryan, not outside of joking around anyway. Secondly, Ryan hasn’t been called a brat since probably elementary school.

“What?” he asks with half a laugh and Shane finally looks over at him.

“You were being a brat,” Shane repeats and it’s softer, but no less of an accusation.

“Ouch,” Ryan jokes and Shane shrugs like that's just what he believes.

“You were.”

“Okay, but you’re no stranger to me complaining,” Ryan points out. “But you’re actually pissed off about it today.”

The light turns green and Shane accelerates hard enough that it jerks Ryan back in his seat. It falls quiet between them again, but Ryan stares at Shane, trying to burn the side of Shane’s face with his gaze and force a response from him. Though Shane’s always been immune to his stares anyway.

“C’mon,” Ryan says. “Give me something.”

The material of the steering wheel creaks as Shane tightens and shifts his grip on it.

“I don’t know what you want,” Shane replies and Ryan lets out a noise of disbelief.

“Are you even listening to me? I’m just trying to figure out why today was so different.”

“You were annoying me.”

“Yeah, and how is that not the same as every other day?”

“Maybe today I just don’t have time for your shit,” Shane tells him, with a pointed look that says Ryan’s testing his patience again.

Ryan blows out a frustrated sigh and absentmindedly tugs at a thread on his sleeve. He hates the thought of genuinely annoying Shane. He always labels their on-screen jabs as banter, but maybe he’s been wrong, and not just today — maybe he’s pissed Shane off before but Shane’s been less obvious about it.

“I’m sorry,” he tries again and Shane shifts his shoulders, like he’s trying to roll out the tension. “Maybe it’s just a bad day for both of us.”

Shane doesn’t respond again and perhaps it’s because he doesn’t want to admit he’s had a bad day, or perhaps he just thinks Ryan doesn’t deserve an explanation. Either way, it’s frustrating when Ryan is trying to fix his own fuck up. With a quiet breath of resignation, Ryan gives in and turns to look out the window instead. He’s suffered through enough awkwardly-silent car rides with Shane to know he’ll survive this one.

It’s a relief when Shane finally parks outside Ryan’s apartment building and Ryan can start gathering up his jacket and water bottle, before double checking his pockets for his phone and wallet. He glances over at Shane one last time, but Shane’s staring at his hands on the wheel.

“See you tomorrow?” Ryan says, not really expecting a response, which is lucky, because Shane doesn’t give one. At least, not to what he says.

Instead, Shane blurts out, “I wanted you to like the episode.”

Ryan pauses and then slowly takes his hand off the door from where he was about to open it because it sounds like maybe they’re getting somewhere.

As gently as possible, so as not to send Shane back into his angry silence, Ryan says, “I did like the episode.”

“You literally wrote me a note when we were shooting that said ‘this story sucks’.”

Okay, so maybe Ryan was meaner than he thought he was.

“I got a little bored,” he admits, because honesty always seems to work with Shane. “But that doesn’t mean the episode sucked. You know what my attention span is like.”

Shane looks at him like he does know, but that it doesn’t particularly help in this scenario.

“It was a fun topic,” Ryan tries. “I learned a lot.”

"Jesus," Shane sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It sounds like you're filling out a college class evaluation, except that you never showed up for lectures and don't know what to write."

It's an unexpected joke and Ryan can't stop himself from laughing, partly because it's true. "Oh god," he says, "have I made things worse?"

Shane exhales loud enough to probably count as a laugh and cards his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine,” Shane sighs and when he looks at Ryan, he looks softer and less angry.

Cautiously, Ryan asks, “Are we good?”

“Were we ever bad?”

“It felt like it a little,” Ryan admits. “But they say not to go to bed angry.”

Shane sighs again and then glances away from Ryan, staring straight ahead out of the windshield. Ryan’s pretty familiar with most of Shane’s emotions — they spend a lot of time together, so it’s only natural. Except that Ryan gets the distinct impression that Shane seems nervous of all things now.

“I might have overreacted,” Shane says suddenly, and it feels like a trap, so Ryan doesn’t answer. “I — uh. I — ”

He doesn’t seem to be able to get out whatever it is he’s trying to say.

“Is it really that hard for you to say I’m sorry?” Ryan jokes and Shane rubs the back of his neck.

“That’s not what I was trying to say.”

“I know. Do you want to write it down?”

Shane tips his head back to stare at the roof of the car. “Can I make a rash decision?”

“Sure. I mean, I was a dick today, so you get a free pass to do whatever you want, right?”

Ryan’s hands are occupied, which means he can’t actually do anything when Shane lunges at him. Honestly, Shane’s probably well within his rights to get a hit off on Ryan, but Ryan braces for a punch that never comes. Instead, Shane grips his jaw, keeping him right where he is before finding Ryan’s mouth with his own.

Ryan drops his bottle of water and it thuds loudly in the footwell between his shoes, but he barely notices. Shane’s mouth is warm and soft, and the scratch of his stubble isn’t as bad as he thinks it should be. He almost gets to the point of returning the kiss when Shane draws away completely, leaving cold spots on Ryan’s face from losing the warmth of his fingers.

Sitting back, Shane looks a little shell shocked like he can’t believe what’s happened. Which is ironic since he’s the one who did it. Ryan touches his own mouth and stares at Shane, who does nothing but stare back.

“Uh,” Ryan says, watching Shane swallow.

“I told myself I’d tell you today, but then I got angry at you instead.”

Ryan carefully sorts through the chaos in his brain. “You kissed me,” he says eventually. “I annoyed you and you kissed me.”

“I didn’t plan on either,” Shane tells him, “if that helps.”

Ryan blinks at him. “The one time you really get angry at me and it’s because you’re stressed out about telling me you love me.”

“I don’t love you,” Shane complains, like that’s Ryan’s point.

“You have a big, fat crush on me,” Ryan amends.

“Is this how you treat everyone who bares their soul to you?”

Ryan shrugs with one shoulder. “I guess. You’re the first to do it.”

Shane watches him quietly for a moment. “What do you think?”

“About you baring your soul?”

“No, about the weather,” he snaps sarcastically. “Yeah, about that.”

“Can I make a rash decision?” Ryan parrots before he reaches for Shane.

Shane meets him halfway over the center console for a kiss that’s a lot more confident than Shane’s first attempt.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Ryan says when they part and Shane quickly kisses him again.

“You can make it up to me,” he promises and Ryan pulls back to quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Like with a blowjob or with dinner?”

The corner of Shane’s mouth twitches. “We can see what happens first.”

Ryan grunts in agreement and pulls Shane back in towards him.