#but they had some new hire working that truck at first and he sucked ass

[chilisaws]

my job is great because I can tell my friends that today I was handling packages and ended up covered in goop 🤤

my job fucking sucks because I was handling packages and got covered in goop 😫

[princessmisery666]

Take A Shot

Summary: Ginuwine’s Pony, promiscuity, and poor decisions lead to a night neither you nor Rick will forget.

Warnings: smut, fingering, p in v, oral (female receiving), angst, Rick is a slut, best friends to lovers, comfort fic.

W/C: 3.5k

Rating: E (explicit - 18+).

Characters: Rick Flag, fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Pairing: Rick Flag x fem!reader.

Bingos: @rickflagbingo // @anyfandomangstbingo Squares Filled:

Rick Flag - comfort fic // first time // best friends to lovers

Angst - “I told you it was a bad idea.”

Betas: @cockslut-padalecki // @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: from Canva.

Master Lists: DC // Main

Your couch has never looked so welcoming. The idea of leaving it for any reason other than swapping it for your bed makes you sigh heavily. But you will, tomorrow when responsibility calls again, you’ll get off your exhausted ass and go to work.

The last few months have been tough; a bad breakup after a three-year relationship was just the tip of the iceberg. A colleague retired, and your boss is too cheap and lazy to hire someone new, so you’ve had to take up the slack. You had the flu; Aunt Flow decided to make her appearance and give you the worst cramps you’ve had since you were a teenager and didn’t have the luxury of spending a few days in bed; then, this morning, your car broke down. The final straw was the truck that splashed a tsunami of a puddle over you while walking to work.

Luckily your best friend, Rick, picked you up after a horrendous shift that you spent damp and cold and on the verge of tears. You took a hot bath when you got home while Rick cooked dinner, and he refused to let you help him clear up after, forcing you to sit on the couch.

If it weren’t for Rick, you’d have lost your mind a long time ago. Just as you decide that 2022 can suck it, music blares from your sound system, making you jump.

Great, now that's broken too.

Before you can get up to turn the stupid thing off, Rick saunters in, hips swaying to the beat, bottom lip caught between his teeth as Ginuwine announces he’s just a bachelor looking for a partner.

“Dance with me,” Rick calls over the loud song. The neighbors are sure to complain soon.

You smile, motioning up and down his body with a wave of your hand. “That is not dancing, and no, I’m too tired.”

“Come on,” he coaxes, sliding closer. “You love this song.”

“I do, but usually it's accompanied by some hot ass dudes taking their clothes off.”

He stills, long enough to look offended, and then he whips his t-shirt off, waving it over his head. “Am I not a hot ass dude?” he asks, flexing his muscles like a bodybuilder on stage.

You laugh, unable to contain it; he always did know how to make you feel better. “Yes, Rick, you are one hot ass dude.”

He crosses the distance between you shaking his ass before he straddles your lap, rolling his hips and grinding his crotch an inch from your face. Singing along, badly, with the song - “if you’re horny, let's do it, ride it, my pony.”

Fuck it!

You sing along with him, shouting as loud as you can, almost drowning out the smooth alluring tones of the popular 90s singer. You run your hands up Rick’s thighs, dancing as much as you can while caged under him.

Rick’s lap dance continues. You play along, running your hands up his legs, over his hips, and when you reach his stomach, he slaps them away, scowling down at you comically. “Oi, keep your hands to yourself, little lady. This is not that kind of establishment.”

You bark out another laugh, and he tuts, disappointment in his eyes. He can’t hold it for long, though, and then he’s laughing while he tickles you.

You're breathless by the time you manage to wrestle him off, and he slumps onto the sofa beside you just as the song finishes.

“Feel better?” he asks, smiling at you.

“Yes, thank you,” you say. You genuinely do, even though you know tomorrow will suck again. “And after that performance, I also feel for whoever your flavor of the week is. Remind me to buy you some dance lessons for Christmas.”

“That’s fair,” he nods, chuckling. “But to be honest, my flavor of the week,” eyes rolling at your alluding to his promiscuity, “is in my bed before the issue of my dancing skills becomes a topic.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Translation, you fuck ‘em and ghost ‘em,” you say, standing up to go to the kitchen.

Rick scoffs and follows you, “I refute that statement.”

“Give me your phone.”

He takes it from his pocket without question and hands it over. “My code is-”

“I know your code.”

“What’re you doing?” he asks, watching you take two glasses from the cupboard and the three-quarters full bottle of vodka from the freezer.

“We’re gonna play a game,” you explain, putting the glasses on the table. “I’m going to go through your contacts, and for every girl you fucked and ghosted, we drink.”

Taking a seat at the table, Rick grimaces, “we might need more vodka.”

“Slut!” you laugh, joining him, “and put your shirt back on, casanova!”

“Why? Is all this,” he leans back and motions to his tanned torso, “distracting for you?”

“You're not my type.”

“I forgot, beards and broad shoulders,” he says, pouring a shot into each glass.

“Ah, you know me so well, pretty boy.” you swoon sarcastically. “Okay, ready?” he nods, and you open his contacts, reading the first name. “Amy D.”

Rick sighs and shoots back a shot while you smirk around the lip of your glass. “Shut up,” he sneers, around a smile.

The game continues, Rick retelling some of his sexapades when a name ignites a memory. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before. You’ve been friends for a long time, and there’s no subject that's been off-limits. But he recounts a few tales in explicit detail, the alcohol loosening his tongue to describe things in a way he might not necessarily have done so before. His stories range from mediocre missionary to sex swings, domineering women, orgies, and submissive women with kinks you’ve never heard of, but all of them have one common denominator. Rick. A few times, you catch yourself biting your lip and clenching your thighs, watching his animated body ripple and flex.

He hasn’t put his shirt back on, and the alcohol has flushed his skin somewhat. Okay, he hasn’t got a beard, and he’s not as broad-shouldered as you like, but to hear him tell it, he’d make up for those things in other ways.

“Y/N,” Rick snaps his fingers in front of your face. “You spaced out there for a second,” he says, “where’d you go?”

You clear your throat and the thoughts of fucking your best friend from your mind, sitting up a little straighter. “Sorry,” you say and scramble to pick his phone back up to look at the next name.

“Who we got next?” he asks, with an excited clap of his hands.

You smile wickedly, and you see an opportunity, so you take it. “Me.”

Rick laughs. You know you’ve never slept with each other. “We’ve never.”

You shrug, “why have we never?”

“I tried,” Rick exclaims, “more than once.”

“Yeah, but we were in high school. I was inexperienced and shy. Why have you never tried again?”

“Cause I’m the fuck ‘em and ghost ‘em type,” he mimics your voice. Then he sobers fast, his eyes showing a level of affection that he seems to reserve only for you. “You deserve better than that.”

“Who says I want anything more than that?” you ask, “relationships are overrated.”

“Y/N,” he cautions, a slight frown on his brow as he tries to decipher if you're serious or not.

The confused look is adorable, and as his features soften, you can't help yourself. With vodka and imagination running wild through your veins, you push up enough to lean over and kiss him. A gentle press of your lips against his. Once. Twice. The third time you tease your tongue against his bottom lip, the fact that he doesn’t pull away makes you bolder.

His palm is warm against your cheek for a second before he uses it to push you back a little. His eyes remain closed even after you’ve broken apart. “You’re drunk,” he whispers, but he sounds almost regretful.

“I’m not that drunk,” you say but drop back into your seat.

“Then what was that?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I want to be reckless, be the irresponsible one for a while. And who better to let my inhibitions go with than my best friend?”

“Reckless?”

“Yes, reckless! If you haven’t noticed, my life is a bit of shit show right now, and I think getting railed to within an inch of my life on the kitchen table would make me feel immensely better.”

Rick watches you for a moment, and you can see he’s considering it. You take another shot and then realize you perhaps shouldn’t have. That will only fuel his ‘you’re drunk’ argument. You shove the glass away across the table.

After a long silence, you ask, “do I need to pass a sobriety test to prove to you I’m not drunk?”

His grin spreads quickly across his face. “Yes,” he says, “walk up and down, in a straight line, no stumbling.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” you smile, grabbing his phone and hitting play. Pony starts playing through the speakers again, and you get to your feet.

You take two small steps toward him, and he wets his lips as he pushes his chair back away from the table. You run a finger around his lips and down his throat. He swallows hard under your touch, and you smirk. You dip to ghost your mouth against his, and he chases your lips when you pull back without making a connection.

You throw your leg over his and grind down on his thigh, straightening your back to make your breasts brush against him. This time when you kiss him, he lets you dip your tongue into his mouth. He kisses you back, but you can feel his hesitation to do more.

You pull back and taunt, “This is that kind of establishment. You can use your hands.”

He needs no further invitation, and he grabs your hips, pushing you down harder on his leg. You whine, closing your eyes, enjoying the friction against your clothed core.

Rick kisses your exposed neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point. “This is a bad idea,” he mumbles against your throat, hands slipping under your shirt to grope your breasts. “But fuck it!”

He kisses you, hard and hungrily, lifting you with him as he stands up. “We’re not doing this down here,” he tells you, and the authority in his voice is mouth-watering.

The stories he told were true. Every single one of them. Rick’s dominant but attentive. He gets you both naked between passionate kisses and grinding bodies. As soon as he’s got you undressed and on your bed, he’s lying between your legs.

Long, soft strokes with the flat of his tongue on your inner thigh set your skin aflame. He teases for a moment, fingers pressing and gripping but never in the places you want it most.

He kneads your breasts, and your back arches when he runs a finger through your folds. “Tell me what you want,” he says, sucking at the flesh on your thigh.

“Your fingers, inside me.”

He coats his fingers in your slick and then slowly inches them inside, crooking them to find your g-spot. You squirm and whimper his name when he hits it, and he plays you like a delicate instrument. He seems to know every chord to make you sing a string of profanities. His tongue teases you, licking a strip from your entrance to circle your clit, slowly sweeping over it and humming as if you taste like heaven.

“Don’t stop,” you moan, a hand on the back of his head, holding him in place as you push your hips up.

You feel him smile against your pulsing nub just before he wraps his mouth around it and sucks it between his plush lips, the tip of his tongue flicking over it.

“Fuck,” you yell as you cum and feel it dampen your legs. You try crawling up the bed away from him, the overstimulation meaning you need a break, but Rick isn’t finished with you yet.

“Nuh-uh,” he whispers, gripping your thigh to hold you in place. He doesn’t stop, fingers still hooked onto your g-spot, tongue lapping up as much of your climax as he can. “Damn, you taste good,” he says, crawling up your body. “Here, try some.”

There’s something exhilarating about your flavor on your best friend's lip that sends you into a frenzy. You try to rise up, wanting to take control, but his weight pressing you into the mattress makes it impossible.

You push at his shoulders, and he releases your mouth, kissing your jaw, moving down your neck. “It’s my turn to taste you,” you say.

“Nope,” Rick says, sucking your nipple into his mouth while he pinches the other. You hiss, and your back arches off the bed, only pushing the sensitive skin deeper into his mouth.

“Please,” you beg needily.

He kneels between your legs, butt resting on his heels. “We’ve got all night.” He grabs your legs, dragging you down the bed to hook your knees over his hips. You watch him palm his leaking cock, sliding the dome through your aching pussy lips. “You can do whatever you want to me later. Right now, I wanna focus on you.”

He sets his dick at your entrance, and for a moment, the lust in his eyes is replaced by worry. “Before we do this, are you sure? There’s no going back after.”

“I’m more than sure.” You smirk, devilish and sex drunk, pressing your heels into his ass. You use your strength to pull him closer as you push forward, both of you sharply exhaling as he glides effortlessly through your wet heat.

Rick’s eyes roll closed. “Fuck Y/N, you’re so tight and warm.”

“Damn, you’re so big,” you moan.

He falls forward, palms flat on either side of your head, and he smiles down at you. He pulls back an inch and drives forward again, slow and steady. You expect him to be a fiend, ravage you like an animal, but he doesn’t.

Rick looms over you, a sweet smile on his face, and he dips to kiss you. Hard but meaningful thrusts snap his hips against yours, and for a minute, it feels like lovemaking.

Maybe it is. Maybe your friendship is what makes it so much more than sex, but right now, all you care about is how good he feels. He fits perfectly, filling you so completely that it’s almost painful when he’s buried to the hilt, but it’s a good sensation— a completion that you’ve never felt before, and even before your climax starts to build, you know you want to do this again and again.

Your alarm violently wakes you up at six, and you fumble around on the nightstand to find the off switch. Two hours was not enough sleep, but the reason for the lack of sleep makes you smile. You roll onto your back and stretch out in a star shape; your legs hurt, and your pussy stings, but it's a welcome ache.

You realize you shouldn’t be able to stretch out without hitting Rick and open your eyes to find his side of the bed vacant.

You silently pray that he’s making breakfast or taking a shower, but something in your gut tells you he’s gone.

“Asshole,” you say aloud once you’ve searched the house and checked your phone for messages.

You will not allow him to ghost you. You call him, not expecting him to answer, but he does after the third ring.

“Hey,” he says.

You can hear the excuse in his tone, and you don’t give him a chance to air it. “Seriously?” you ask. “You’re ghosting me? I can’t believe you! I know it was just a casual thing, but you couldn’t even stick around to give me a ride to work. You're an asshole.”

“One, I'm not ghosting you; I answered your call. And two, are you mad cause I left before you woke up or cause you need a ride to work?”

“Both! And another damn thing...”

“Turn around.”

You turn to see him walking through your front door, juggling two coffees in a holder, a brown paper bag, and his phone.

“I went to get breakfast,” he says, smirking as he approaches you. You can imagine the look of thunder that's on your face, and his smug smile only adds to the annoyance you're not ready to let go of. He could have left a note or something.

You hang up the call and take the bag from him. Rick hovers close to you for a second as if he’s contemplating if he should kiss you or hug you or something. He groans slightly, taking the bag back from you, then sets about emptying it. Silently, Rick hands you a bagel, and you thank him with a small smile. Then you sit in awkward silence, eating and sipping the lava hot coffee.

You take a deep breath, trying to rid yourself of the guilt you feel. “Sorry I called you an asshole.”

“Apology accepted.”

Silence returns, the sound of you both chewing the only noise. You chance a few glances over at him, and each time he catches your eye, you look away. Which is ridiculous, but you feel too exposed, too seen.

Rick sighs, heavy and laden with remorse. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

Shit. You knew you’d have to have this conversation but didn’t think it would happen so soon, and you hoped you’d have more of an idea of how he was feeling before the inevitable ‘what happens now’ talk.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

“If it’s fucked up our friendship, then yeah,” he says, “that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“That’s just it. I’m cool with being friends still. I don’t want that to change.” You shrug, anxious that you’re about to say the wrong thing, but you have to put it out there. You don’t want any awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m just wondering, well, more like hoping that we can do it again, sometime.”

“Yes, fuck yes! Absolutely.” Rick quickly replies. “Fuck, I was hoping you’d say that.” He gets up from his seat and kisses you, the relief he feels clear in his lack of hesitation. “I think I’ve been holding back from falling in love with you, but after last night, I can’t pretend anymore.” He rambles, “That’s why all the women that came before you were only good for a night or two. I didn’t know it then, but I do now. You’ve been right in front of me this whole time, but it’s like I couldn’t see you.”

“Woo, Rick. What’re you saying?”

He panics, eyes widening as his hands drop from your face. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Nothing. Forget it. I’m just sex drunk still.” He hastily kisses your cheek as he grabs his keys from the countertop and leaves in a whoosh of air as he strides away, heading for the front door. “I need to go shower. I’ll be back to take you to work.”

“Rick, wait,” you call after him. “Let’s talk about this. If this was something more to you, then I want to know.”

He stops with his hand wrapped around the door handle, but he doesn’t turn to look at you. You stand a few feet behind him, frozen to the spot. His head drops, chin resting on his chest. His head shakes and whispers, more to himself than you, “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“You keep saying that,” you groan, “but you seemed fine with it last night.”

“I was, I am. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assures you quickly.

You watch almost in slow motion as he turns the handle. You're scared that if he leaves, things will never be the same between the two of you.

“Please, don’t leave.” He must recognize the hurt and fear in your voice and slowly spins to face you. “I don’t want you to walk out of here, and us never be the same again, so please don’t. Can you just give me a minute?”

“A minute for what?”

“To let it sink in that we’re both fucking idiots and that we should’ve done this a long time ago.” You step forward and run your hands up his chest, locking your arms around his neck. You tiptoe to reach his eye level and smile softly. “I want you, Rick. I want this, us.”

He captures your mouth in a fervent kiss.

He pulls back way sooner than you’re ready for the kiss to end. “Take off your clothes,” he demands, pulling his own shirt over his head.

You chuckle, “I can’t. I have to go to work.”

“Fuck work, you hate your job anyway.” He bends and throws you over his shoulder, and you let out a squeak of protest. “I have some money saved up. I can take care of you until you find something you love doing more than me.”

Laughing, you grip his ass to keep from sliding off his shoulder as he sprints up the stairs. “Well, then I hope you have a lot of money saved because I don’t think I’ll ever find something I like doing more than you.”

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#212

“C’mon in. Welcome to Joe’s Garage. I’m Garrett, or Gary for short. Have a seat. Even though it’s just me here, I do want to conduct a full interview. I’m going to be hiring someone to work next to me to help me run my garage, and I want to do a thorough interview. Let me look at your application. Wait a minute. You look familiar. Have we met before? No? I’m sure we have…. Oh wait a minute. Aren’t you the faggot that used to hang out at the rest area toilet on the old interstate sucking cock after cock?...

“Hell, you got me off on more than one occasion. Was that you? Your panicked look tells me yes. Just nod. Good. Wow. I haven’t seen you since they closed up that rest stop. Are you still a cum whore? I mean, if that bathroom was still open would you be there sucking on trucker cock after trucker cock? Again nod.

“Ok this fucking interview is over. You’re hired. That’s right. I don’t give a shit about what else you can do, I got me a cocksucker. Let me go over your duties. You submit to my cock whenever I want. Both holes. Why don’t you put on your fag whore uniform? He he he. That’s my way of saying strip naked.

“You still drink piss? Yeah, I remember when I first saw you, we were at the piss trough. God I miss those things. I saw you watching my cock. I had to piss real bad but my cock was getting hard. You just swooped down and started sucking on me. Fuck. It didn’t take me long to shoot. But then you just stayed on my dick. I told you I had to piss. You looked up at me with my cock in your mouth and nodded. I was like, you sick faggot. You took my piss like a trooper. Fuck, now when I go into town, I’m always looking for a piss drinker.

“OK, I have been looking for a faggot. Ever since the new interstate was opened up, I have lost a lot of customers. I used to talk to some of the truckers at the rest area. I offered them full service on their trucks if they needed it. And full service included messing around in the store room around back. I spent more time back there, than I did working on trucks. That will be your job now. You’ll spend a lot of time back there. There’s a mattress on the floor, a makeshift sling, a rim seat.

“You do eat ass right? I’d be surprised if you didn’t. You are going to get a lot of musky ass to eat out. Oh fuck, that smile tells me everything I need to know. Look you have your first customer, one of my regulars. He’s got a short fat dick, and he’s into breeding. A bit rough. Nothing you can’t handle. Here’s the thing, after he nuts in you, beg to clean him off. You’ll be expected to clean all men after they have nutted in you. That’s part of your duties. But with him, he wants to be asked. I have no idea why. Squat down when you take his cock in your mouth. Shit some of his cum on the floor. He’ll offer you twenty bucks to lick it up. And you will work for that twenty. Here he comes. You ready to begin your first day? Oh shit, a second semi trailer is pulling in. Well aren’t you the lucky cunt?”

[candychronicles]

bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

[stevenbasic]

The Tale of Queen Angie, p3

*BEEEP* Throughout the whole drive that Monday morning, AJ felt like he was in a heavy fog. He had zoned out at a red light, and the car horn from behind him jerked him back to reality. Jeez… he thought to himself, no sleep, no coffee yet, I’m a zombie. He waved, apologetically into the rear view of his pickup, and took off again down the road.

But it wasn’t just that. He didn’t just need his coffee. Though in a daze, a depressed funk, AJ’s thoughts were nonetheless racing as he pulled into the parking lot. Why had Angie insisted they take separate cars? She said it was “to maintain appearances”, whatever that meant. But, he couldn’t help but frown. It would have been so nice to come to work together. It was both of their first days, after all - strangely at the same place. Or, at least, at the same location. It would have been nice to be with her, even if only for the fifteen minute ride. They could have talked...

Taking this new job, basically as an entry level schlub for Collective Construction (“Building the New World - Together!”) was a major ego blow. They were the same company - totally female owned and operated, from what he’s heard, though they obviously used guys for the grunt work  - that had snatched up the contract for the stadium job, and got the bid on a bunch of other projects he’d kinda counted on getting around the city. At first he had taken it personally, but it seemed like the same thing had happened to a bunch of other construction companies - so maybe he shouldn’t feel so bad. They seemed so well-funded and well-connected, and as upsetting as losing business was, they were basically impossible to compete against. Eventually, when his work dried up and he had to close up shop, dissolving the company he’d started himself, built from nothing, Collective purchased his equipment and hired him and a few of his guys. Though he needed the work, it was nonetheless humiliating and emasculating. It was hard not to feel...absorbed.

So, the first place they were putting him was on a demo team. Apparently there was a big remodel happening in the office building where Angie had scored her new gig, working in the accounting office of some sort of medical practice. It kinda sorta seemed like a weird move for her; her career, in contrast to his, had been on fire as she’d been managing a few branches of the bank she was with. But, whatever. She’s a smart girl, she seems to know what she’s doing, sees the potential for growth here, I guess.

As he pulled in where the other guys were parkedi, nto a spot far from the building, AJ took a look around. Though some teams were here already - he saw a chick in a hard hat pointing people around - his shift wasn’t set to start for another fifteen minutes. Damned if I’m giving them any free work, he thought, and sat back in his truck to think. Maybe Ang and I can grab lunch together? Being around Angie always made him feel better, even if she had been a bit distant lately. The part of his brain that tried to put a positive spin on things was saying that her distance was just the result of her new position and the stress of starting a new job. Maybe she was just distracted, or nervous…although her outfit and demeanor this morning portrayed nothing but confidence. Just the memory of her pulling on that short dress with the lemons on it, having him take pictures, had his hand drifting between his legs as he sat there in the truck. The other part of his brain, a much louder part these days, began calling attention to all the recent moments in their relationship that made him feel small, weak, and desperate. Their relationship had certainly taken a turn over this last months. It had been...he couldn’t even remember...since they had last had real sex, months since she last offered her mouth. Weeks since her last handjob, and that was through his pants in the changing room at Harold’s Department store when she was trying on new work clothes; he still shuddered at the embarrassment of having to walk around the Galleria with the stain on his pants. No, come to think of it, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen her naked, despite spending all his time at her place...with her...at her beck and call. No. More and more their time spent together was acts of pitiful and pious worship on his part. She’d been really playing up this domme thing recently, and he was embarrassed to admit just how easily he’d found himself getting more and more “sub”. Because, despite her distance, she seemed determined to keep his balls drained. Hours and sometimes whole weekend days were spent worshiping at the Altar of Angie, with her wearing something skimpy (or even just her work attire, he thought)…belittling him... as he jerked off to the swell of her big, white tits over and over again. He thought back to this morning, feeling an overwhelming mixture of arousal and shame.

“Go ahead” She had suggested, proudly putting herself together for her first day of work, “Grab that lotion and get started. You can watch me get ready for my new job as you stroke.” She’d smiled to herself, he remembered, as she watched thru the mirror and he wordlessly reached over for a couple pumps of lotion. She had barely looked at him or acknowledged him after that; she just continued putting on her makeup. He was pulled out of his thoughts - and pulled his hand away from between his legs - by two women, giggling to one another, walking past his truck towards the office. Holy shit, he thought, the ass on that Indian chick is ridiculous. And the figure on her friend is nothing to sneeze at, either. Even though they were both in, like, medical scrubs, their outfits and just the way they walked seemed designed to flaunt rather than conceal. Man, Angie is going to fit right in here, he thought, thinking wistfully back on how her hips looked this morning. Glancing at his phone, he realized he had been sitting in his truck for almost 10 minutes. He sighed to himself and had just turned off the engine to head over for his assignment when he saw- hooolllllly jeez whooo is that?!? Is that Angie’s friend Melissa!??

He’d known Angie had heard about this place, this job opportunity through one of her groups of friends, the girls she never really let him meet. Melissa was some sort of manager here, a job - by Angie’s accounts - for which she really wasn’t qualified but had scored nonetheless. Again he’d never met this Melissa but had seen her in some IG post along the way...the tits grabbed his notice. When he had asked about her, though, Angie seemed to bristle, so he’d let it go.

But good god look at her! AJ thought, as his right hand found his crotch again, leering through his windshield as he watched Melissa hook up with the pair in scrubs and start giggling along with them, headed to the front door. So tall, she totally dwarfed them, dressed sharply for a day at work. She must be six and a half feet in those heels, he figured, as he absentmindedly started rubbing himself again, marveling at a figure that he’d only seen in...well...he’d never seen a body like that.

In moments the three were gone, though, having entered the glass doors that led into the front atrium. He sighed again, and closed his eyes. He was going to have to steel himself for a tough day, physically and emotionally. He hadn’t worked for someone else, taken someone else’s orders (well, except for Angie’s, of course…) in years. This was going to be hard, but he had to suck it up. With one final exhale, AJ opened his eyes, put on his hardhat, and went to work....

===================================

Thanks to Friend of the Basic AgeoftheGiantess for his help on this one!

Extra content, newer posts at my Patreon

[limenysnocket]

Attention and Company

I couldn't help myself. @honorarytenenbaum

Summary: Sometimes you need someone to chill with, and that's okay. Maybe that person is your boyfriend who also gets a little roughed up at work sometimes. Pubs can sustain you both for only so long, but what you really need is to curb yourselves in the mall parking lot, right next to a shaved ice food truck.

Warnings: Just some light swearing, a bit of angst, a lot of fluff, and some brief mentions to "raunchy" behavior. This is a soft fic for y'all tonight, out here needin' some gentle lovin'.

A/N: Got some lonely feelings right now. I just wanna hug someone, dude. Yo, we could totally watch a movie over discord sometime... maybe.

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Today sucked. Flat out. The bags under your eyes didn't lie, and now here you were, outside of your studio, sitting on the hood of your car, eating a granola bar to stave off hunger for a few more hours. Hopefully.

You pull your phone from your pocket, looking at the time for a moment, then looking at your screensaver. It was the only thing that could make you smile. You had your arm wrapped around one of your closets friends, Taika, and the phone didn't capture it, but he had his arm wrapped around your waist. His curls were all messed up, and the picture perfectly showed how drunk you both were by the fuzzy pink on your cheeks. It was 99 cent beer night at one of the local pubs, and unlike the first one held at a baseball game, all went well.

Of course, there was a limit to how much the two of you were allowed to drink, but that didn't stop the many failed attempts at stealing other people's drinks while they were looking away, just to get a taste more. Didn't matter that you guys were eventually thrown out of the bar for breaking rules and coming close to breaking a few faces, you had a great night.

That night also lead to a few other places, including his hotel room, but that end of the story has to be saved for another time.

Instead of staring at your phone for another century, you decide to unlock it and dial the man up. You knew he was somewhere around here, either charming his way onto another movie set to mess with his rich friends, or getting his tired ass kicked by daylight savings.

His number was saved to your favorites, so dialing him was quick and easy. The wait for him to pick up didn't last long either.

"Talk to me..."

God, his voice sounds like one big yawn. Looks like he needs a bit of perking up too.

"I've got two curbside tickets to eat a snow cone and watch kids do loops on their bikes in the parking lot. One of those tickets has your name on them," you grin, despite sounding exhausted too. The day really made you strain your voice.

His musical laughter really makes the sun look brighter from its low position in the sky.

"That's oddly specific... where would these magical tickets take me afterwards?" He had cocked his eyebrows up and leaned against his office door while he spoke to you.

"If this were a booty call, I would have told you already, Taik," you snort and tease him. "So, it's either make yourself fat on some weirdly flavored snow cone, or take your horny-ass home."

"Okay, okay... I'd like to make myself fat for a night, as long as your there," his voice is dreamy, desperate and warm. "You there already?"

"Nope," your lips pop the p, "but I'm nearby."

"I swear to God, if you're talking and driving, I'm gonna whoop your ass," Taika stood up, acting serious when he was just really worried about your safety in general.

"I'm not, I'm fine," you laugh again. "Not even in the car. Sitting on it though, trying to convince the world's sexiest man to go out with me again."

"And you said this wasn't a booty call," he retorts over the phone, making you playfully glare at the asphalt on the road. It's like he's in front of you.

"You coming or not?" you change the subject and you hear him laugh again, but softer.

"Yeah... I'll be there in a few minutes, gorgeous."

He always made goodbyes so easy. Maybe it was because you both knew you would be seeing each other again, no matter what circumstances you were thrown into. But the dial tone still had its effects.

You slip off the hood of your car, and take a seat in the driver's seat. The warm summer air makes your skin glow, and your brain went fuzzy only imagining it doing the same to Taika.

The drive feels so quiet. For a moment, you actually thought about calling him again, but you knew for a fact that he wouldn't pick up if he was driving.

As predicted, kids are zooming around on their bikes, showing off to their friends or trying to be cool, even though they all were obviously teary-eyed each time they scraped a knee. It was amusing to you and Taika, especially when some of the older boys would try to catch your attention and zip past you and Taika. It ended up being a heckle fest in the end, and some kid always went home with his butt hurt.

Keys and wallet in hand, you trek to the small, blue trailer tucked in the corner of the parking lot.

"Damn, you must have beat me here by just a few seconds," Taika calls, rustling his way through the small spaces between a couple of cars.

"Well, you've never been a speed demon type, so last place is your calling when it comes to racing," you guwaf and grin at him. He rolls his eyes and comes to walk right next to you.

"I pride myself on road safety," he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

You glance at him from the side, just to silently check up on him. His hair was tousled and his eyes were resteless. It looks like he had it rough from the start. He had struggled to get dressed this morning, but picked the most eccentric clothes in his closet to make up from his lack of sleep.

"Dare you to try the dill pickle flavor this time," his cocky tone wakes you up.

"Like hell I will," you snort as you finally reach the trailer, where a teen boy happily greets the both of you.

"Oh come on, it'll be funny," he eggs you on, his bottom lip pouting.

"Keep trying to make me get dill pickle, and the next time we have a movie night together, I'm getting the pizza," you sniff and he rolls his eyes. He thinks it is an odd threat. "And I'm making it all Hawaiian pizza." That got his attention.

"Bull shit, you would never. Not on a perfectly good pizza!" He gasps.

"Oh, just watch me, pineapple boy," you snicker and point to his pineapple print shorts. You break conversation to order two piña colada flavored snow cones. Taika usually took for-fucking-ever when it came to picking a single flavor, so ever since the second time you've been out here with him, he assigned you to choose for him. He usually got what you got.

Now, you wait.

You plop yourself down on the curb, as you promised, and he joined you with a long, loud groan. You give him a bewildered stare, wondering if his age had really gotten him this much. He smiles at you through a wince.

"Sat on my keys," he wheezes and chuckles at his own stupidity under his breath.

Your eyes float down to where he pulls out his keys and you start giggling quietly.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure you've done the same thing," Taika says, not handling the fact that you have new material to mess with him, and also trying to get some stories out of you.

"Well yeah, but I don't sit down as violently as you do," you prod his bicep, and he laughs.

"Such a lady. Must sit down gracefully and slowly," he says, mocking an English accent, but he was horrible at accents so of course it was bad. You smack his bicep this time, and he playfully flinches, like it hurt.

"I really need to get you into some accent classes or some shit, before you get your teeth knocked out," you shake your head with a smile.

"What? I think I'm great at accents. My American accent is the best one yet, don't you think?" He smirks at you, and proceeds to demonstrate. "All you have to do is put an 'er' at the end of everything, right? That's totally how they speak around here."

"I would be careful, Mr. Waititi. Could get in some trouble if you say that too loudly," you roll your eyes, and he sighs. Yeah. Things were going to shit in LA. It was clear to everyone, but what could two hollywood producers do to stop things like that? Keep making films, you guess.

"Two, large piña coladas!"

You look up, and so does he.

"I'll get them," you volunteer, but he places his hand on your shoulder before you could get up.

"Let me," he speaks softly, in a damn near whisper.

He stands up and strides right over to the trailer with so much confidence, you're envious. He comes back with two large styrofoam cups in hand, spoons, and a warm smile. His smile was always warm. It set fire in your belly.

He sits down a bit more carefully this time, even though his car keys were sitting in the grass, far away from his landing zone. He hands you your cup and a spoon.

"Do these have alcohol in them?" He nudges you with your elbow and you shake your head.

"As if they would let a seventeen-year-old serve alcoholic beverages," you throw in logic.

"I dunno... ever been to a ballpark before? Pretty sure some of those kids are way too young to be peddling there too, but that doesn't stop people from hiring them," he says while pointing his spoon at you.

"Fair point," you finish, then look at your snow cone. You decide to start eating before it melts.

Silence swarms the air, but comfortably. There's the occasional murmur of cicadas or humming cars drowning them out. Birds would land on the scorching asphalt to pick at whatever crumbs were left by other patrons, before fluttering away at the sight of a zooming bike getting too close for comfort.

Taika will point out a few of the kids doing tricks. He picks his favorites for the night, and he keeps himself busy by watching them. You, on the other hand, are occupied with him. You examine him from the tips of his dirty white chucks, to his frazzled hairdo.

"You look like shit," you mutter. He barely pays you mind and that comment was hardly acknowledged. It was like the air had gone a bit stiffer. He was hiding something from you.

"What's going on, Taik?" you worry. He never kept things from you, unless they were hard to bear.

He sets his cup down and holds his hands together. He looks so tired. So solemn.

"Today was total shit," he whispers and runs a hand through his hair.

"Well, yeah, I get that. I wouldn't have known if you had looked a little spiffier," you say, reaching out and gently tucking a curl on his forehead back in place with all the rest of its friends.

"Look, I--..." he says, turning to you, lips parted slightly, and a yearning sensation bubbling from the tips of his fingers as he rests a single hand on you.

There were tough times with the occupancy you both, willingly, chose. The hardest part about it was making friends, or making love, then finding out you have to leave it behind for a new location the next morning.

"I have to leave... for Sydney..." he says, reaching to gently take your cheek into the palm of his hand.

"When?" you manage, though you were clearly becoming upset.

"In a few weeks. Thor is waiting for me," he sighs, barely able to look at you while his thumb rubbed your ample cheek.

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"I don't want to leave you," he says, tilting your head up just the slightest bit. "And I don't want to stop loving you."

Your eyes search his for a moment, wide and a bit confused.

"I thought you said we were just a fling with--"

He cuts you off, "A fling with benefits. I know..." he sighs again, "but every time I find myself waiting for you to call on a shitty day, each time you rest your head on my shoulder, all the times you smile at me and tease me, I find myself falling... more in love with you." He has to pause to breathe.

It's so quiet. Dangerously quiet.

"What happens if I love you too...?" you muster your courage, and look right into his expressive, brown eyes.

"I don't know," he says to you, thumb still rubbing circles.

"Guess there's only one way to find out, huh?" you breathe, and he nods.

Still as statues, you wait for words to touch the air. It's only when his foot makes a wrong move and knocks over his snow cone, does the tension break.

His bottom lip pouts for him again and you quietly pick his spoon up off the ground. You clean it on your shirt and hand it to him, all before taking your cup, and holding it out to share. He smiles down at you, taking his spoon from your hand and sticking it into the shaved ice.

Your head leans against his shoulder when the sun disappears behind the mall building.

"I love you too," you whisper.

"I know," he says back, sucking at the tip of his spoon.

"Think we can keep this up over the phone?" you ask, wondering about a brief virtual relationship, just until one of you catches a break.

"Guess there's only one way to find out, huh?" he says, lowering his spoon, wrapping his arm around you, and giving you his full attention.

[bossbex]

5x06 Reaction

JARCHIE!!! I missed their interactions so much... like honestly in S4 they barely spoke.  I’m loving the “roommates” dynamic.  

Ok the kevin/fangs/toni apartment(?) is... amazing!!

I love how they hired actual teenagers (or close to it) to play the high school kids... since all the “teachers” were playing high school students, what, 3 episodes ago?? 

Ok mechanic Betty is SO HOT

DORITOS I AM CRYING AT THIS PRODUCT PLACEMENT

Veronica’s taking over the Blue Velvet!!! Why not reuse that set lmao

Thoughts on this initial barchie interaction: 

I’ve seen all the discourse about it seeming like Archie doesn’t care about Betty’s problems, or not taking them seriously, and people comparing Archie’s “oof - that sucks” to jughead’s “white noise” speech in 1x08 (which I thought was cringy AF and I even liked b*ghead at the time) and here’s what I’ll say: 

His “oof - that sucks” comment as MATCHING Betty’s tone - she says it kind of matter of factly and with a bit of an eyeroll, she does NOT seem very upset about it, and she is a grown ass adult who DOESN’T need Archie’s condolences in that moment - and Archie knows that. 

She then brings up Polly, and Archie ASKS A FOLLOW UP QUESTION: “didn’t your mom say she does this? Takes off for a couple of days” which shows that he is referring to a previous conversation about this - they’ve BEEN talking about it and he DOES care (not to mention they showed that he had texted her about Polly at the end of the last episode)

She says she’s trying not to panic - because she knows this is something Polly does and may not actually be in danger - SO HE OFFERS A DISTRACTION during a time when she is basically asking for one, and then SHE COMES UP WITH THE IDEA OF WHERE TO GO HAVE SEX

Anyway I have argued with enough people on twitter about this lol.. I feel strongly.  Also, this scene was super cute and both Archie and Betty look so good in it.  

I love Tabitha.  Smart, enterprising, witty... I’m all for the Jugitha pairing. (seriously though, is a ship name decided for them? I’ve seen Tabhead and Jabitha as well, lol.  

Uhhhhh ok this car sex scene? It somehow feels even more explicit than the shower scene?? The moaning and breathing?? HOW DARE THESE STONEWALL KIDS INTERRUPT THIS

LMAO NIGHT JOGGING

Is it just me or is Sheriff Keller looking really hot? Silver fox??  

I have to note that Archie’s hair colour looks SO BAD in this whole episode but especially this football scene with the Reggie confrontation.  It’s like, almost burgundy? But somehow bright orange at the same time? I hate it.  

Ok Cole is absolutely nailing this “down on his luck, beaten down” adult Jughead.  His character is funny all the sudden?? I love that he kept the money in the tip jar like OF COURSE

Ok Chad coming into Veronica’s class HE’S THE WORST!!! And then SITTING AT THE BACK I HATE HIM SO MUCH FOR THIS

Alright, now we have another scene that has people talking, which is where Archie meets Chad.  My thoughts: 

Archie clearly sizes up Chad.  I mean, he dated Veronica for 3-ish years (in the show’s timeline) so yeah, it’s normal to meet your ex’s new partner and size them up.  It read more like “he thinks Chads a douche” as opposed to “he’s jealous of Chad because he wants to be with V”.  

They show makes a point of showing Betty’s reaction to them meeting.  THIS SHOT IS NOT RANDOM.  Yes, I’m sure the show will go there, she’ll get jealous of V at some point.  Betty thinking that Archie is jealous of Chad is not the same as Archie actually being jealous of Chad.  

I kind of loved how Chad just jumps in here to join in the karaoke night - he didn’t redeem himself from the previous scene where he SAT IN THE BACK OF HER CLASS WHILE SHE WORKED but I like how they’re not playing him completely evil

Next scene: BETTY AND TONI ARE TALKING!!! I REPEAT!!! BETTY AND TONI ARE TALKING!!! Seriously, it’s so refreshing that they’re actually letting all kinds of new dynamics and character interactions happen this season.  

Also, NEDSLIST!!!! THIS SHOW!!!!

I am living for Cheryl being completely beautiful whilst yelling at construction workers.  

So like... she actually doesn’t have that much money. She couldn’t really afford the donation for the school... I kind of wish that once she says “I can’t afford it” people would like, not keep pushing? I’m looking at you Toni, whom I absolutely adore, I just wish the writers didn’t make it like Cheryl’s being squeezed dry.  I get that it’s needed for plot purposes but I don’t love it.  

Kevin and Betty are friends again!!! Love it!!! 

Karaoke night thoughts: 

At no point is Jughead hanging out or interacting with the rest of the group.  He stays separate from them - with Tabitha, which I appreciate, but I am just noting this because I’m sure it was done purposefully. 

“She probably forgot it’s Gekko now” uhhhh didn’t Toni announce V as “Veronica Gekko” in the last episode?? LOL THE SHADE

I love Veronica’s voice

Ok so Chad actually comes off so great in this scene?? I guess this is part of his manipulation - come off as such a great guy in front of all her friends to get them to like him? 

Jughead’s reaction to the duet is so me every time I’ve watched people do karaoke lmao

During the “or do you need more? Is there something else you’re searching for” they cut to Archie’s and Betty��s reaction.  Archie is not thinking about V in that moment.  

I am not seeing one iota of jealousy from Archie.  He looks genuinely happy for them.  

This Chad and Veronica bed scene makes me uncomfortable.  But I’m glad they’re showing their softer moments! 

The Archie/football recruitment sequence... Chad in the back of Veronica’s classroom again??? HOW IS THIS HAPPENING I HATE THIS!! Also, this is another scene where Chad looks jealous of Archie... not the other way around. 

Britta!!! I love her.  And I feel like the writers inserted her in specifically for Britta Lundin, former Riverdale writer and acclaimed author (read her book Ship It, seriously, it’s so good), and I love that. BUT THE WAY ARCHIE LOOKS AT BETTY IN THIS SCENE IS THAT EVEN LEGAL

We get the first glimpse Toni’s “Operation Bring Cheryl Out Of Hiding” plan here, when Archie asks her for funding for the football team and says its earmarked for something else (hmmmmmmm... this plan has been in the works for a while... and I’m here for it) 

Ok. This scene where Archie goes to ask Cheryl for money is... a mess.  My first reaction is that it was so OOC for Archie to bring up Jason in that way.  Then I got to thinking... Archie probably would want to honour his dad in that way and was genuinely suggesting that as something that might actually be helpful to her, as opposed to purposely trying to manipulate her.  He knows what it’s like to lose a family member, he just didn’t realize that Cheryl doesn’t grieve in the same way. The boy doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body.  Anyway, now he’s been banished from Thornhill! But don’t we see him (and everyone) there in a bts photo from possibly 5x08? Isn’t that at Thornhill? Will this be addressed or will the writers just forget it ever happened?

I love Betty and Kevin investigating together. It’s so refreshing. 

Ok this place Jughead is going to is legit the creepiest shit I’ve ever seen.  I am having trouble making myself care about this “Mothmen” plot??

Betty’s “Straight to the Point” interrogation style is actually effective in this truck stop stakeout scene.  

Alice again with her wine... I wonder if there will actually be an “Alice is an alcoholic” storyline or is the wine just part of her personality now?

Ok like it’s so inappropriate for a teacher to be wearing an HBIC shirt BUT I AM HERE FOR THIS DRAMATIC VIXENS HALLWAY WALK!! And Toni is correct, Cheer is a sport so sit down, Archie.  Notably Toni adds in “not even Cheryl managed to do that” - I’m thinking she new Ms. Bell would be eavesdropping ;)

WHY IS THIS PORTAIT OF JASON WORTH SO MUCH?? 

Is this Minerva character going to be important?? I keep seeing people talking about how she and Cheryl are going to hook up but is that just because she’s a female character who interacts with Cheryl? I’m not seeing it yet but hey, it’s Riverdale.  

JUGHEAD BRINGING UP THE EPIC HIGHS AND LOWS OF HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL I SCREAMED

Seriously though, since we know Jughead wasn’t there when Archie said that, there’s two options: Either Archie told him he said it, or (my preferable theory) Archie used to just SAY THAT REGULARLY and has said it in front of Jug lmao.

Chad again seems legit supportive when she tells him about her jewelry store plan?? THEY’RE SO UP AND DOWN!!! 

Ok, so Betty is an FBI agent (trainee, whatever) and she JUST NOW THOUGHT OF TRACING POLLY’S CELL PHONE

This scene... when Veronica finds out Chad has been talking to Hiram behind her back... this is where she decides she’s done with Chad. 

Another scene with Archie - I am still getting zero vibes that he’s into Veronica? And zero vibes that Veronica’s into Archie? It makes complete sense that Veronica would want to help the bulldogs.  Chad is a total dick here and is definitely threatened by Archie... again, not the other way around.  Side note: Chad, if threatened by Archie, is a TOTAL IDIOT for suggesting Archie renovates the Pembrooke - like, he’s going to be working? All the time? Where Veronica is staying? And probably taking his shirt off because he’s sweaty from all the working?? WHYYYYY WOULD CHAD ENCOURAGE THIS

This little flirty scene between Jughead and Tabitha (and it’s the first that I would say has any flirty undertones whatsoever) is pretty cute.  

THIS BARCHIE PORCH SCENE I HAVE THOUGHTS

The fact that people are suggesting Betty showed up there because she wanted to talk to Jughead is SENDINNNNGGGGGG

Let’s be clear, she only asked about Jughead so she could make sure he wasn’t home so that she could bone Archie. There is no other interpretation for this. 

THIS IS THE BEST BARCHIE KISS TO DATE

They are playing the song from the porch scene in the pilot... DON’T TELL ME BARCHIE IS MEANINGLESS WHEN THEY ARE USING THIS SONG

I think the fact that this is the first time they had sex and we didn’t see it is meaningful - they are showing that the relationship is deepening and they are more than “just sex”

As Betty leaves, Archie looks like he wants to reach out for her and then stops himself - he is definitely falling hard and he’s afraid Betty isn’t feeling the same way

Ok, Cheryl is straight up wearing lingerie in Toni’s office!!! And the red lipstick is back - notably, throughout the entire show, she has worn the red lipstick as a kind of shield - she never has it for her “vulnerable” scenes.  Seems like that is still happening. AND this is where we see Boss Toni’s plan come into fruition - she started up the vixens and MADE SURE CHERYL FOUND OUT ABOUT IT because she knew that was the one thing that would make Cheryl come out of her Thornhill hiding spot.  Well played, Toni.  

Archie and Veronica announcing the bulldog funding... again, I’m not seeing ANY “romantic/attraction” vibes here? He does react when she says her last name is Lodge again but like, anyone would? 

MS. BELL YOU GOSSIP I’M OK WITH YOU REPORTING TO CHERYL BUT I DRAW THE LINE AT HIRAM

Is Reggie... filing his nails? Lmao

I really hope Polly isn’t dead?? Like I very much want a Polly redemption story!! 

Sooooo I guess Archie and Jughead are both going to die in this fire? Lol... well... they’re main characters so I’m sure they’re good.  

I’m doooone for this week! So far really enjoying the timejump? Obviously because of barchie but also, everyone is just - better. 

Well this turned out to be a novel.  If you made it this far, thanks for reading :) 

[nightswithkookmin]

MONDAY, JANUARY 18TH: GOLDY'S LOG

I miss Suga. Scratch that. I miss Agust D. My spirit animal.

I've been thinking about him a lot lately, wondering if his injury isn't an exemption to military service. I wonder if he qualifies, in light of his injury, as an able body. I wonder what their law defines as able body.

I wonder if he passed the legal physical exam and health assessment test when he turned 19, since he's had that injury way before debut. Or if BTS have undergone that mandatory military service assessment since they are all past 19 and what their results are.

Jimin has chronic back pain too. That should qualify him for an exemption to military duty. He can still do desk work if it's that serious.

I should talk to ***** and look into South Korea's law on exemptions to military service.

Moon values the arts and culture industry. There's already been an extension for conscription for the benefit of BTS. Their success and longevity in the spot light perhaps influenced this decision. Should BTS maintain this momentum, an exemption would be inevitable I feel.

I miss them. They've been gone for too long. I'm worried about the impact this is going to have on their popularity if they disconnect from fans for so long or be mechanical about the way they connect with their fans.

I hate the limited access to them. But Scarcity increases the value of a product and it's not surprising if this is the approach BigHit is adopting in the wake of the pandemic.

Limited access not only raises value, it creates demand. Bang PD is a bigbrain marketing genius- I hate it.

They are taking a huge risk with this new marketing strategy. Personally, I'd stick to what works but then I am no marketing guru. Just a consumer who likes to play it safe. I guess I won't be getting hired anytime soon. Fuck.

It's all very fascinating.

What's equally fascinating is the shippers out here on these streets. The Jokers.

I... they confuse the hell out of me sometimes.

How are they going to question my rationality when I talk about moments I feel Jikook are having issues in their relationship or had broken up etc but then have no problem with and even applaud that same rationality when I talk about moments that has led me to believe there is lack of depth in Tae Kook's dynamics or that they are not real by any standard or that another ship in BTS isn't real.

Do I have two minds? Or are they more inclined to be selective in their beliefs based on their biases towards Jikook and against other ships? It's weird.

By the same lens I define Jikook as real, I define Tae Kook or any other ship that includes JK and Jimin as not real. And by that same lens if I feel Jikook aren't together then I'm wrong and irrational?

It really confounds me.

Not sure if they expect me to apply double standards to Jikook in those instances.

I don't think there is right and wrong opinions or perspective when it comes to shipping, but I think if they are right about me being wrong about my perspective on Jikook then I must be wrong about my perspective on any other ship in BTS as well.

I can't be right about one and wrong about another. I'm either right about all or wrong about all.

I can't be 'right' about Tae Kook having 'issues' in their bond in such a way I think it often bars them from fully nurturing their bond and developing depth to it but then be 'wrong' about Jikook also having issues that mess with their bond from time to time when it's the same measurement I use in accessing the depth of bond of both ships.

I really don't understand their way of thinking.

What is right and what is wrong and who decides on that?

I think we ought to substitute right and wrong with 'believe and believable.' The approach to such discourse should be about what one is willing to believe or not believe about certain discussions: I believe this. I don't believe that. Because believes stem from our personal biases towards a subject.

And the people that come running to me with 'look, Jikook smiled at each other in On era so change your mind'

I would except I hear this debate all the time. I wonder if they realize they sound exactly like the Tuktukkers in my DMs trying to convince me Tae Kook is real.

'Look Tae sat on JK's laps! How can you say there is no depth to Tae kook' ' He squished JK's cheeks' 'Jk said he wants to ride with Tae, if there was no depth why did he say he wanted to ride with him'

I have a feeling Soft Koo is back. The days of Terminator JK might be over. Too bad, I liked terminator JK. He was a bad ass.

I like that he is experimenting with his looks. But I'm glad his Ravi-esque phase is over. I wonder who he is drawing inspiration from this time. He reminds me of Jimin though. There is something peaceful and serene about his looks.

Can't really tell much because Bighit is sitting on tons of footages. I think I need to send a truck to Bang PD HQ.

I don't like that Jimin posted a Vhopemin photo for Tae's birthday. It was cute and all but I don't like it. That shit felt passive aggressive as fuxk. Lmho. What, he didn't have a V or Vmin photo in his gallery? Sounds like someone didn't put much effort in their VMin agenda for this post.

I wonder if he will keep the same energy come JK's birthday. I mean both him and Tae didn't post for him💀

May be I'm reaching on this one. But a single post where V was not even the focus of the post... I think his birthday means a lot to him and he enjoys when people shower him with love and attention and I don't think his birthday is an exception.

And he kept reiterating after such said birthday how he recently discovered he loves to be loved and how he does most of the things he does in order to be loved by his fans, friends and family.

And it breaks my heart that, the headlines read BTS shower X, Y with love on his birthday but the two people close to him were missing from that list this time. The media talks about BTS posting for eachother as them showering eachother with love. Certainly they all know this.

And the fact Jin posted for Tae after Tae's birthday says a lot about Tae and JK. Tae had no intention of posting perhaps because he left JM a message on the packages. With Jin I feel he was overcompensating for not posting for him on his birthday...

JK gets a pass. If JM wasn't happy about him not posting for his birthday, he would have pulled a Jin.

Jimin talking about coming to the realization he loves to be loved makes me think JK withholding his affections openly made him come to the realization he loves to be loved. Just a hunch. And the only reason JK would withhold his affections is if Jimin himself estopps him. Those two give me headaches.

I think I got the closure I needed from this.

LESSON: dont get on JM's bad side and bloody post for his birthday 💀

Tae been releasing photos of Jimin and Jhope a lot lately. Not sure how that makes me feel either. I think it's beautiful. But when I think about all these beautiful photos he has of Jimin on his phone and how generous he is with them- I think they would have been more meaningful had he released it on JM's birthday. The snow photo he posted still sits in my Vmin heart somewhere.

I really don't like this not posting for each other's birthday business. It's 2021. They need to cut it out.

I feel JK set a bad precedent but personal happiness first so good for him.

This moment haunts me for some reason.

What was going through V's head. I want to know. RM looks done. Lol.

Jimin is really beautiful. I love his eyes when he smiles and the thing he does with his shoulders.

Some people complain I write a lot. Some say I don't write enough. Ayayayai!!!!!!

What to do.

I think I accidentally deleted a post.

I'm looking forward to JKK1. Stay Gold, Still with you, Your eyes tell... I hope he hasn't given his best away cos those were bops.

PJM1... oh God I'm nervous. I'm excited for it but nervous. I think Serendipity is a classic. The Christmas song was equally great and frankly the only good Christmas Ive heard so far and I don't even like Christmas- nothing against Baby Jesus I just think it sucks. That bridge in Dis-ease is something.

I want to read his thoughts. His spotify playlist is insightful but I want to confirm if he really sees himself as a mess who is always causing his lover grief.

I mean he did say he has realized he needs to be considerate towards those that love him. Not sure yet the connection there.

I want to read his thoughts.

PJM1....

I love JHOPE. I think his ship with Jimin is beautiful and healing. They make my insides warm. Not sure if their shippers think they are real. Do they? That would be awkward.

I think RM and Jimin need to spend time together... it would be good for them.

Jimin and Sungwoon shippers are alleging Jimin has been staying with Sungwoon all this while. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

But the bit about him living with Sungwoon before the start of Bon V 4 has me🤔

Around that period, I don't believe JM was at the dorms and Jikook were not together then too. He must have been staying somewhere...

I'll let them have that.

But around November 2019 when he was having issues with JK he was staying with Tae too so no I don't think that means Sungwoon is queer or that Jimin is sleeping with him💀

They need to get out of their imaginations.

I think Jikook will drive me crazy one day.

I can feel my cranium swelling.

JiRose shippers need to pack it up. They really think Jimin is straight? 💀

It's the bad editing for me.

That doesn't look like a straight face to me. Unless his butt was on fire and he was uncomfortable looking at that black interviewer, I think that's his flirting face.

Lately I've been thinking about what ifs.

What if Jikook is not real?

I wish I believed that.

[theunvanquishedzims]

The Michigan Fleet authors posted their AUs so here are mine

theunvanquishedzims: I have SO MANY Boat Boy ideas but I'm sitting on them because I came up with a bunch halfway through the book and they got jossed by the end rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Uhhh, sorry? I think?? theunvanquishedzims: (i.e. Basil gets sad and weepy over Rich and Liam flirting at a party, Trimmer plays fairy godmother a la ripping half his shirt off, giving him a pep talk, and sending him back out there to Win Back His Man) rollerskatinglizard: *whooping* theunvanquishedzims: Jossed so hard rollerskatinglizard:Okay, that's DELIGHTFUL rollerskatinglizard: Trimmer is the most terrifying fairy godmother rollerskatinglizard: Anything else? :Dc theunvanquishedzims: Lemme get my notes rollerskatinglizard: *gleeful wiggling*

theunvanquishedzims: Okay so I stopped reading when the Sympatico grabbed Rich during the storm and it took me a month or so to get back and finish, so I was under the impression that the ship was still being fixed in drydock and not, y'know, actually being crewed and sailed. (Trimmer yelling "just let her sink" hits reeeeeaaaallly different when you know that) rollerskatinglizard: Ahaha oh dang theunvanquishedzims: So the big idea was the gangsters needing something from the Sympatico. Not the general thugs and delinquents crewing the Sympatico but the actual organized crime of the Fleet, who were getting pretty used to using ships like the Sympatico to run their dirty deeds through. Except it's basically impossible to get what they need out of it, even when they drag out one of the old IST guys. He finally tells them Rich was the one who did the heavy lifting for the past few years rollerskatinglizard: Ooooh! rollerskatinglizard: What an interesting idea! theunvanquishedzims: Hang on I need to restart rollerskatinglizard: Ah yes, computers theunvanquishedzims: Sorry, that turned into a dinner break and running errands During which I came up with a couple new AUs theunvanquishedzims: Okay, back to mafia: they track Rich down, probably snag him after he's been out boarding. Off work, not expected back on the ship, tired from all the exercise, etc. They're not overtly threatening, just pick up his skimmer and politely suggest that he comes help them, and he probably goes quietly because there's like, six of them. I'm thinking only one of whom was actually posted on the Sympatico theunvanquishedzims: So they get back to the Sympatico. She's been temporarily decommissioned until the Fleet can fix her broken processes, but that's also a cover story by the mob. They want to clear out all the smuggled goods and information, but she's basically a ghost ship, silent and empty, and even the other IST guy couldn't get more than a few blinking lights. She's sulking basically, she knows they're not there to fix her so she's digging in her heels and playing dead. Like a toddler going ragdoll when they don't want to go to bed. theunvanquishedzims: They explain to Rich that they can't get a response and want him to take a crack at it. "Has she said anything?" "Who?" "The Sympatico." "...we didn't talk to it." "Well that's half your problem right there." theunvanquishedzims: At this point you should watch Show Yourself from Frozen 2, and the crystal scene from Atlantis the Lost Empire. Stepping into the place you've been called, making your presence known, and having a greater power reach out for you. Shiny lights, chasing the spark of life to its source, and having the power consume and embody you. Rich is used to it but it's probably pretty freaky from the outside, and way less magical-looking than a Disney movie. Probably more like when Magneto activated the machine in the first X-Men movie. Step up, turn it on, and suddenly it's sucking the life out of you, making you a living battery theunvanquishedzims: In my head I am picturing the glowing blue eyes, lights cracking along the skin like lightning or circuit patterns, the implants glowing in his temples, standing at a terminal like a star trek deck, maybe a faint breeze-like movement of the hair and clothes to indicate the sheer power radiating off of him. In reality it's probably more like he falls down, gets up, stumbles along to a good spot out of the weather, and curls up in a secluded defensible spot to stare emptily at the wall for a few hours while lights randomly go on and off around the ship theunvanquishedzims: Just being trailed by six very wary mafia dudes who have probably never seen someone mind-meld a ship, and definitely not solo. He's like a zombie, and when he does talk it's very clear he's talking for the both of them theunvanquishedzims: If any of them are in sync with the ship they definitely feel the !!!Rich you're back!!! vibe theunvanquishedzims: No idea how that resolves, I guess it depends on how powerful the mafia is. If they're the kind of entrenched criminals who are ongoing characters, then they have Rich scrub out what they need then dump him back on his skimmer to face the fallout alone. He might report it to the spooks? Or at least try to tell Basil and Mitch theunvanquishedzims: If they're not recurring characters then they were definitely being tracked by the spooks, who move in once the Sympatico comes back online. Rich has to answer some very tough questions but he cooperates fully and winds up digging up a LOT of dirt out of the Sympatico, now that the mafia showed him where to look. It's another one of the super traumatizing moments that makes him look cool and heroic. Oh yeah, totally got kidnapped, single-handedly piloted a ship, and helped bust the mafia, please stop talking about it, I need a nap, and also someone to go with me next time I go boarding. theunvanquishedzims: (And then I finished reading the book and found out that the Sympatico had a new crew and was out on the water with her AI still fried and broken, how did no one notice that)

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theunvanquishedzims: Okay I don't have Trimmer's voice well enough to write this fic so I'm feeding it to you raw: Trucker AU theunvanquishedzims: Rich is a long-haul trucker, much to the disappointment of his elder sister Angela, who is in law enforcement and thought he had a decent future in it too. Athena is a pro wrestler and totally down to support her brother traveling the country (and hopefully being in the same city as him sometime, she wants him to see her kick ass!) Rich wants to pursue a degree in [tech or engineering] but college is expensive, and trucking is a good way to make money, on top of which you don't have to pay rent when you're on the road. So he's saving up for school, probably listening to a lot of audiobooks, podcasts, and training guides while chugging along. theunvanquishedzims: Not nearly as bad or sketchy as the Sympatico, but life on the road can get pretty sketch sometimes, especially when you're alone. Enter Trimmer. Or rather, enter Rich into the middle-of-nowhere trucker stopover bar where Trimmer is getting his ass kicked. theunvanquishedzims: (Gonna go ahead and say the bar is called the Sympatico, and this is a very bad night to be there, which is saying something because any night at the Sympatico is a bad night to be there.) theunvanquishedzims: Fortunately, Rich is not trapped there by the cold uncaring waters of Lake Michigan, he can just turn around and leave when he sees the nightly fight brewing. Unfortunately, he has a weakness for cute twinks, and no matter how much the guy is insulting their mothers four on one is really not fair, so he winds up wading in, scooping Trimmer up, and murder-stalking to the exit theunvanquishedzims: [At this point I pause to stare out the window and wonder wistfully what their canon meeting was like, who approached who, if Trimmer just straight-up used his lunch to hire a bodyguard or if Rich did the "are you gonna finish that" puppy-eyes and Trimmer realized how easily he could be bribed, etc etc] theunvanquishedzims: In the Trucker AU Trimmer waits until they're outside to go feral goblin on the arm that's holding him, Rich drops him, and negotiation commences theunvanquishedzims: I don't have Trimmer's backstory nailed down, the "teenage runaway" archetype doesn't really suit someone with a large loving family, but safe to say that whatever lead him to hitchhiking across the Midwest he is determined to see through out of sheer bullheaded stubbornness. The only thing worse than calling your parents to bail you out with bus money home is calling your grandma. It might have involved stabbing a college advisor when the guy got rapey, he's technically not on the run from the law, he DEFINITELY is not on track to getting his degree. Halfway between college dropout and missing person. If he was wealthy he'd be backpacking Europe for a semester, but he's not, so he's hitchhiking America. And getting molested by truckers, because Trimmer can't have nice things. theunvanquishedzims: He is really not interested in getting molested by Rich! But, as Rich points out, he did just save him from getting stabbed, Trimmer doesn't seem to have any exit options for this backwater town, and holy #&$^ the bar's on fire. (The Sympatico burns to the ground that night, to the betterment of the world at large.) rollerskatinglizard: You have no idea how much I'm enjoying this But you should totally post it Splick and Roach would both scream in glee theunvanquishedzims: Rich and Trimmer get out while the getting is good, and it's nearly dawn before they finally hash out details. Rich offers to drop him off at the next town, but they're still pretty close to the epicenter of the mass exodus so the next few hundred miles are probably not going to be safe for Trimmer. By this point Trimmer has found a bunch of the old textbooks Rich bought secondhand to study in his free time and come to the conclusion that [this nerd is a nerd] his story checks out. Just a college kid trying to scrape together the cash to get an education and make a decent living. Reminds Trimmer of Trimmer. (Reminds Trimmer of Joey.) rollerskatinglizard: ;u; <3 Beautiful theunvanquishedzims: So now Rich has a little traveling buddy! Helps him stay awake on the long hauls, lets him use the carpool lanes, even reads to him out of the textbooks sometimes, with commentary. Trimmer is really smart and surprisingly easy to get along with. They nap in the cab, eat in diners, and share motel rooms. Trimmer unclenches a little. Rich is good about not asking personal questions. They definitely watch Athena's fights on tv more than once, much to Rich's chagrin and Trimmer's loud encouragement. He started fanboying over it to annoy and embarrass Rich, but it is surprisingly cathartic to watch someone get trash-talked and respond by just BODYSLAMMING their opponent. ("Why are you rooting for her, you're the biggest trash-talker I know," Rich mutters into his beer, face bright red as Trimmer whoops and high-fives the waitress he got to change the channel in the sports bar.) theunvanquishedzims: ("She would wipe the floor with me," Trimmer responds with a smirk, watching smugly as Rich tries to figure out if Trimmer is having impure thoughts about his baby sister) theunvanquishedzims: (They have already established that Trimmer does not have impure thoughts about Rich, that Rich DOES have impure thoughts about Trimmer, but as long as he stays in his own motel bed that's fine.) (Trimmer still sleeps with a knife under his pillow but doesn't bother in the cab, where their co-naps occasionally verge on snuggling.) rollerskatinglizard: <3 <3 <3 *perfect* theunvanquishedzims: They finally reach their destination. It has been [days to drive a rig between NJ and CA] and they make it there slightly ahead of schedule. Rich drops off the delivery, Trimmer comes face-to-face with the reality of the trip ending. He'd been hitchhiking for months and felt like he was going nowhere, and now a few days and suddenly he's crossed the entire country, and almost kinda maybe had fun doing it! And California's as good a place as any to stay, at least he won't freeze to death if he doesn't find a place to crash for the night. theunvanquishedzims: Then Rich comes back and hands him a wad of cash, pocketing a stack of his own. "Got a cash bonus for finishing early! And since you're the reason I made it here this fast, I just figured part of it is your share..." he peters out, trying to explain his reasoning. They sit in silence for a while, both thinking about Trimmer in California, far away from anyone who would want to hurt him, with a few hundred dollars in his pocket. theunvanquishedzims: "...Let's get lunch," Trimmer finally decrees, and Rich can't keep the relieved smile off his face. They renegotiate some things over lunch, and then go to pick up the next load to haul cross-country. Together. rollerskatinglizard: AWWWWWW!!!! *YES,* I love it!!! theunvanquishedzims: And then eventually they go to college together, and get their degrees, and good jobs, and meet the families, and Trimmer absolutely drags Rich to as many of Athena's fights as they can manage on the road. It's just to save money, things are cheaper when you split the rent, Trimmer hollers on the phone. You put a ring on that boy's finger, y'hear?! Hellbender hollers back. I am so glad the word moirail exists rollerskatinglizard: YES God yes Also this AU pleases me greatly rollerskatinglizard: Blessings upon you for it theunvanquishedzims: ...technically the Michigan Fleet takes place in a post-Homestuck world, so theoretically it could have time to enter mainstream lexicon. It's better than "bromance" theunvanquishedzims: JUST THROWING THAT OUT THERE >.> rollerskatinglizard: Yeah, totally different feel than bromance!

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theunvanquishedzims: Speaking of Homestuck! Wanna hear the Helmsman AU? :3 rollerskatinglizard: YES PLEASE theunvanquishedzims: Okay gimme a minute to get my notes, it's not based on One of Our Submarines but I can't remember the fic title. Have you read the one where the kids redesign the helmsrig and use that to garner support for Feferi as Empress? Lots of political drama, Sollux-centric, [spoiler], and in the end they win *but at what cost* (((If someone knows what fic I'm talking about please link me, I can't find it.))) rollerskatinglizard: No, I haven't theunvanquishedzims: It's good, if you like the nitty-gritty of rebellions. The piece I'm cherry picking is the new Empress introducing a new way of helming that allows more freedom. Instead of a single enslaved lowblood being hung up in tentacle wires until they drop dead, it's something you can unplug from, allowing psionics to swap out, take shifts, etc. So Empress Clearwater (yay seadweller name) is dead, long live Empress Clearwater, and she shakes things up by introducing her new helmsrig and orders it implemented Fleet-wide theunvanquishedzims: I don't think this universe is as bad as canon but it's still pretty rough on the bad ships, and the Sympatico is a very bad ship theunvanquishedzims: Angie is still a security officer, probably fairly high-ranking as a greenblood. Athena is a pro wrestler. Sports are probably a bigger part of life in a Fleet that doesn't center around conquest. The three probably grew up in the same neighborhood, maybe dabbled in quadrants before settling on hatefriends. Oooh, or ash, Athena setting them up to talk out their issues over lunch and then heckle each other over their other quadrants could fit in that quadrant. theunvanquishedzims: Rich is, of course, a helmsman. It's rare for someone that close to jade to be so powerful, he was actually planning on a career in tech, but when he got called in for psionic testing he basically crushed it. Possibly literally. And olive is still technically a lowblood, so off to the helm with you. theunvanquishedzims: His first posting is the Sympatico, and it's a nightmare. The one bright spot (dark spot? How do trolls even. *insert rant about Kanaya being pastel goth not goth-goth*) theunvanquishedzims: The one bright spot is Trimmer, a technician whose survival method is to lock himself in the helm dock and stab anybody who tries to mess with Rich when he's piloting. It's basically how things work in the superstorms, but 75-90% of the time instead of a few times a year theunvanquishedzims: Rich can barely talk most days, they communicate via chat client, and even that requires a lot of brainpower so they can't do it when the Sympatico has to fight something or do difficult maneuvers in space, which is pretty frequently. But Rich keeps an eye out for Trimmer, directing him through the ship to help him avoid people and fights, and tweaking things like hall lights when things get hairy. I think at least once he turned off the gravity, it cost him but it got Trimmer out of a really bad situation and gave him an excuse to hole up in the helmsdeck for a few days until things cooled off theunvanquishedzims: But all that is in the past! There's a new Empress, a new crew, and a new way of helming! theunvanquishedzims: The Sympatico is one of the flagships to roll out the new helmsrig. The original crew was disbanded, culled, reassigned. Trimmer was allowed to stay (at Rich's request) to ease the transition. It's a big day, lots of media attention documenting the new helmsmen, and Rich is doing his best to keep calm. He had to do some physical therapy to stand upright and be able to walk from the big speech to his shiny new helmsrig, but as a fairly young recruit he's not nearly as bad off as some older helmsmen whose bodies have atrophied. He's still pretty skinny though, especially when compared to Angie and Athena, who he reunited with (for the cameras) #helmsmenaretrollstoo, #greenc3<green, #omgishipit, see things are much better now, people can reclaim their lives and quadrants, helming is something to be excited for not scared of, etc. Lots of propaganda, lots of attention, lots of pressure to get this right theunvanquishedzims: And then he walks into the helm and Trimmer is there. Rich would probably have had a meltdown if he hadn't been, but no one can tell because they're so calm and professional. They're both cleaned up and impeccably uniformed, the plugging in goes smoothly, and the Sympatico comes to life and lifts off into the sky into a sunset that would make a Hollywood director weep. The cameras turn off, great job everybody, and things return to normal. Except Rich and Trimmer have no idea how to handle normal. For the first 8 hours it's fine, it's good, it's a little weird that Trimmer looks so tidy and that Rich is sitting in a padded chair instead of being flesh-jacked by tentacles, but it's fine. They chat over text, a little stilted but plenty to catch up on theunvanquishedzims: Rich spies on the new crew and gossips about how boring they are and how weird the ship looks with everything cleared out and well-lit, and wow where did that section of storage come from? Oh right that used to be a hidden smuggling nook. Haha nook. See they're fine, they're laughing at the same old jokes. DEFINITELY weird that Rich is physically laughing. And then their relief shift comes on, with the new 2nd shift helmsman, and it's time for Rich to get unplugged for the day and go. Go to his room, which he has now, or to eat, which he can do now, or any one of a million things that normal trolls do, because he's a normal troll now. (This is turning out a little different from in my head but I like it.) He makes it about two hallways, walking silently side-by-side with Trimmer, before he breaks down. Or rather Trimmer breaks down. Or maybe they both simultaneously break, there is a lot of breaking happening, and it's not great that it's happening in the hall where anybody could walk by and where the new helmsman is almost certainly seeing them and possibly reporting them, and Trimmer's flight instincts are to run back to the helm where it's safe but Rich isn't there, RICH was the reason it was safe and he's not at the helm, he's right there in the hall. Rich, I know not how, picks up Trimmer and gets them to him room. It' close by, thank goodness, and it has a lock on the door, how weird, and Trimmer is there. He missed Trimmer so so much. rollerskatinglizard: ;u; <3<3<3<3 theunvanquishedzims: [The following scene contains content too graphic for wigglers under the age of seven sweeps] rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Hardcore conciliation!!! theunvanquishedzims: From Trimmer's POV: Merrill requested him to remain a tech on the Sympatico. Makes sense, he was the only one who treated the guy like an actual troll and not a drooling mass of computational power. They got caught up, it's weird how clean and quiet the ship is, no fights to report beyond a spat in the cafeteria that turned out to be pitch flirtation. His shirtcuffs itch and he wants to roll them up but it's day one of the new empire and he doesn't want to get culled for being untidy on the Empress's pet project ship. There's so many other things to get culled for, anyway. And then shift is over. (Weird, he's used to working 16-hour days and sleeping in the helmdeck half the time.) And he has to unplug Merrill (double weird, he's not used to touching Merrill unless it's for a physical repair. Very aware of Rich as a physical person, especially when he's standing up and not obscured in a mass of tentacles.) And then they leave, together, which is WEIRD, because for sweeps Trimmer has been sneaking out of the helmdeck to go on a food run with Merrill texting him directions, and there's no Merrill on screen providing guidance to avoid fights, but there's not gonna BE any fights, and everything is the same but different and looks weird and shiny and there's a giant troll right next to him, stalking him, why didn't Merrill warn him?! rollerskatinglizard: Oh NO, ahaha, oh these poor doofuses theunvanquishedzims: From Rich's POV: he's been seeing these hallways for sweeps, but not from this angle, the ship is so familiar but so foreign to him, and he can't hear her, can't feel her, and he keeps reaching out for her even after all that training he did to get used to the new tech, there's still an absence and some part of his brain that says not being linked to the ship means something has gone catastrophically wrong and everyone onboard is going to die, TRIMMER is going to die, Trimmer is freaking out and hyperventilating next to him, Trimmer's running out of oxygen and the ship isn't responding to him to tell him what's wrong with the oxygen, and then Trimmer goes to bolt back to the helm but that's full of strange trolls and a new helmsman, and that knowledge is enough to shake him back to the situation at hand. He doesn't know where he finds the strength or the presence of mind, but he manages to grab up Trimmer and get them back to safety. It's just that safety is now his berth, not the helm. They're alone in his berth. And Trimmer is still freaking out. Sh-shoosh? Shoosh. Shooooooosh. theunvanquishedzims: Everything is diamonds and snow and beautiful shining crystals (in the movies that will someday be made about this day.) In the moment there's a lot more hyperventilating and snot. Basically, culmination behind the entire fic: do they actually have feelings for each other, or was it just about mutual survival the whole time? rollerskatinglizard: INCREDIBLY ADORABLE AND INTIMATE COMFORT, *YESSSS* Thank you yes, I'll have a dozen God that's splendid theunvanquishedzims: And they're both freaking out, Rich is hungry and physically tired and needs to do a lot of stretches, Trimmer is not used to Rich being huge and mobile and right next to him, and they both have crazy big trust issues, but...yeah, they're pale. They're so pale for each other, and it was so hard during the transition not seeing each other and not knowing how the other felt, not knowing how THEY felt, if they really had feelings or if it was all a bad situation. And now they know. They have feelings. And because they're trolls and not humans, they can flop on a pile and talk about those feelings in a non-platonic way, and Rich can pet Trimmer's hair and tell him how pretty he is and how Rich is glad that Trimmer got it properly cut instead of just hacking it too short for someone to grab, and how much he worried in the hall about not being able to see farther than his own field of vision to keep Trimmer out of harm's way, and how this whole thing is so weird and Rich is so scared but he's just really, really happy that Trimmer took the posting on the Sympatico, because he pities Trimmer and he wants him around and he was so glad that Trimmer wanted to still be around him too theunvanquishedzims: The media always depicts piling as either the traditional fairytale highblood freakout, or an extremely mellow ASMR-ish chillout with lots of hairpetting and horn polishing. Not two midbloods looting a mostly-empty room for enough junk to make a large enough pile to sit on, shrieking at each other about their feelings and how weird this is and why didn't you SAY something, me?! why didn't YOU say something?! Three SWEEPS we've been dancing around this! Well I didn't know if you felt the same way or if you just needed me to survive! Etc etc etc. Lots of getting up and stomping around , pacing the floor while ranting, trying to scavenge more stuff to throw on the pile. Rich owns basically nothing and it's the first time he's not judging Trimmer for keeping his room a garbage heap, even empty pizza boxes would be better than trying to make a pile out of two sweaters and a toothbrush. rollerskatinglizard: XDDD TuT aaaaah, YES theunvanquishedzims: Rich definitely rips off a wall panel and pulls out some wires, Trimmer doesn't even question it, they've lived and breathed this ship long enough to know what every wire does and which are nonessential to ship functioning. And with the wall panel crunched up they can pile stuff around it to make it seem less sparse, and wow it doesn't even matter that he pulled a panel down, this is HIS wall in HIS room now, he can "redecorate" as he sees fit, cue more yelling about how he doesn't know what to do with himself or his newfound freedom. The whole thing is just yelling and cussing and grabbing and shaking. It probably looks black from the outside, but they are swimming in palest cream. theunvanquishedzims: Eventually they give up on the pile. They go through Rich's entire perigee of snack rations to avoid having to go to the cafeteria, halfheartedly make fun of Rich's chewing, then crawl into the recuperacoon together. Thank goodness there was such a big push to show off how great helmsmen's lives will be, Rich scored a blueblood-huge 'coon and he's still skinny enough that they can both fit in it together. They sleep together, in sopor like proper trolls with proper lives as opposed to surrounded by pink tentacles and misery. Tomorrow they'll have to venture out for food, and do Rich's stretches and physical therapy, and head to their shift like the galaxy hasn't flipped upside-down, but they're handle that together. rollerskatinglizard: Oh help, my heart!! TuT It's SO CUTE, AAAAAAAH theunvanquishedzims: Okay my computer has been trying to shut down for the last three paragraphs so I think it's time to log off for the night, but I hope you enjoy the AUs, I will tell you more tomorrow rollerskatinglizard: Thank you so much!! Have a good night! theunvanquishedzims: (In the original version Rich and Trimmer came face-to-face for the first time since the Sympatico was busted up and Rich pulled out for rehab, and basically had a giant pale meltdown right there against the wall. There was purring, and crying, and confessions, all caught on film. Athena and Angie definitely saw. It had to be censored out of the broadcast. Someone uploaded it to Troll Pornhub and it won a Troll Pornhub Emmy for Truth in Journalism, which was not a category the Troll Pornhub Emmys had before, so congrats Merrill and Trimmer) rollerskatinglizard: *dying* oh my GOD Rich would blush so hard he'd keel over

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theunvanquishedzims: I woke up to the idea of Rich as Fezzik and Trimmer as Inigo Montoya (book version.) rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Oh man, delightful theunvanquishedzims: Soft-hearted giant and stabby little friend rollerskatinglizard: Yesss theunvanquishedzims: Only problem is Trimmer's grudge seems to be against the entire world, not any particular murderer theunvanquishedzims: But they could definitely take on the Zoo of Death together rollerskatinglizard: It could be both, in the AU! Specific grudge and also he hates everyone theunvanquishedzims: Instead of not being left-handed he pulls his feet out of his boots and surprise! More hands to stab you with Makes the acrobatics on top of the cliff more exciting rollerskatinglizard: *dying* YES Perfect! theunvanquishedzims: I don't know who the Man in Black of most beautiful woman in the world would be, but Rich catching them jumping out a window to whisk them away on horseback is lovely rollerskatinglizard: *strokes chin thoughtfully* If Rich is Fezzik, I think Basil might as well be the beautiful love interest, and Mitch is his farm boy turned dashing rogue theunvanquishedzims: Mitch and Trimmer sword fighting rollerskatinglizard: YES theunvanquishedzims: Mitch going through hell and back to save his lady love, then Rich shows up with the horses and says "hello pretty lady" and Basil is just swooning over him rollerskatinglizard: Mitch is pretty chill with Rich by then, he can handle sharing Rich didn't try *hard* to kill him, after all theunvanquishedzims: He even made it a fair fight instead of ambushing him He put down the rock and Mitch put down the sword and they tried to kill each other like civilized people rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Yes, exactly theunvanquishedzims: Rich even helped bring him back from being mostly dead rollerskatinglizard: They're practically best buddies now! theunvanquishedzims: Which I imagine is 1000x funnier because Trimmer hates this guy and doesn't want to help him but he has info Trimmer needs rollerskatinglizard: Rich just being reprovingly like Come on, buddy, he's cool really I KNOW you bonded over your sword fight with him Don't lie Trimmer: HE'S STILL A DIPSHIT theunvanquishedzims: Trimmer: It was a little fun to take the boots off I guess, I don't get to do that often rollerskatinglizard: Hahaha yes theunvanquishedzims: Downside of being the best swordsman in the world, nobody can touch you. UNTIL NOW. Trimmer: I killed the guy but now I have nothing to live for. Mitch: Have you considered piracy? Stabbing people all day and all the rope ladders you can climb rollerskatinglizard: *dying* theunvanquishedzims: Now Trimmer's life goal is to reclaim his title of Best Swordsman, which means fighting Mitch a lot rollerskatinglizard: Which they both enjoy Sometimes Trimmer wins, sometimes Mitch does rollerskatinglizard: Roach points out that Liam would be Miracle Max theunvanquishedzims: I was just about to type that! rollerskatinglizard: Heee! Good brain wave theunvanquishedzims: You need a cure for death? Nope, sorry. You need to it humiliate my mortal enemy? Coming right up! rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: Slipping Rich the holocaust cloak "because it fits so nice" rollerskatinglizard: Pfff yes theunvanquishedzims: Which is said with a million more winky faces than the movie rollerskatinglizard: XDDD Naturally Liam is a much higher-libido mad scientist-substitute theunvanquishedzims: He doesn't have a wife he has like six boyfriend minions hanging around in various states of undress. He got fired for banging the king when he was the royal miracle man, he did a good job but the prince found it icky. rollerskatinglizard: *dying* YES theunvanquishedzims: Basil as Buttercup tho. Basil: Mitch is a good friend. :) Just a great buddy. :)) Kind of smelly but a nice boy. :))) Someone: *might possibly find Mitch attractive* Basil: What? Why. No. Why would she. I mean yeah he's smart and muscular and tan and broad-shouldered and has perfect teeth and his sweat glistens in the sun as he does his chores shirtless, but c'mon, he's not THAT much hotter than her middle-aged husband. No way. rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* rollerskatinglizard: My cowriters very enjoy this AU concept, btw, thank you theunvanquishedzims: Excellent theunvanquishedzims: Trimmer: I told him I was there to kill him and he just...ran away? Mitch: Who does that? rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* theunvanquishedzims: Basil being a slobby peasant until two minutes after Mitch leaves, then realizing he has to take care of himself if he wants to keep Mitch's attention, and only then starting to regularly bathe and brush his hair and work on his figure. rollerskatinglizard: Snirk! Sounds about right, doofus nerd that he is theunvanquishedzims: Then he becomes a princess and has two servants per limb to keep him clean and shining, so when Mitch sneaks into the wedding announcement crowd his first view of Basil is 1. clean 2. shiny hair 3. dressed like a queen

_______________________________

General book chit-chat, no specific AU

theunvanquishedzims: I saw the post about the Sympatico crew having a very different view of Rich than his friends and now I am consumed with the idea of Rich being seen as scary by anyone who knows him for more than a single minute. Like, he flinches at the sight of a uniform, he can't stand to be in a room with more than one other person in it, and he's so busy working he doesn't really have time to go around carving out a territory rollerskatinglizard: Right? You'd think it'd be tricky, but apparently no theunvanquishedzims: And now there's video of him covered in kittens, and doing cool board tricks, and pretending a little barbel is too heavy to lift, and also he might be in the news for taking down a murderous conspiracy at the Mall. rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Indeed theunvanquishedzims: Where did big scary monster Merrill go, who is this marshmallow rollerskatinglizard: What scam is he trying to run?!? theunvanquishedzims: Oooh, I pity the fool who is assigned to a boat with Officer Merrill. Double flinch response rollerskatinglizard: RIGHT? *OH SHIT, THERE'S ANOTHER ONE* And she's ARMED theunvanquishedzims: Try to blow off some steam by watching some wrestling, A THIRD ONE rollerskatinglizard: Some poor dumbass who sneered at Trimmer once ends up hiding out on a penny boat bc there's MERRILLS EVERYWHERE, IT'S NOT SAFE OUT THERE theunvanquishedzims: *dying laughing* I imagine a non-terrible Sympatico crew member meeting reformed Rich is like those Very Special Episodes where the hero's high school bully or childhood bad influence friend comes to town, and they're so nice and friendly and apologetic about what happened back in the day rollerskatinglizard: We actually have an encounter something like that planned! theunvanquishedzims: The hero's friends are all charmed and the hero can't convince anyone that it's all an act, he's secretly still terrible, look I'll prove it *does something that makes the hero look bad and the reformed guy look like a victim* Yaaaaaaaaay!!! Outside perspective is the BEST rollerskatinglizard: Rich and this random dude, both acting like the other one is a total menace Meanwhile, anyone who's known either of them since is like ....No?? He's a fine guy, perfectly reasonable Merrill, stop growling theunvanquishedzims: Two Spider-Men pointing at each other rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Yes theunvanquishedzims: Also the fact that Rich has gotten BIGGER since leaving the Sympatico is probably a shock rollerskatinglizard: OH yeah theunvanquishedzims: Richard "Cranky Because He's Slowly Starving To Death" Merrill rollerskatinglizard: I mean, it's a shock to Rich When he hits another growth spurt So it's definitely a shock to anyone else theunvanquishedzims: Oh yeah, he was like 17 when he was first assigned there, nowhere near done growing yet Richard "My Shirts Rip When I Flex Wrong" Merrill rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* He'd look so sheepish and disgruntled if someone gave him that "I flexed and the sleeves fell off" shirt theunvanquishedzims: I am so glad Trimmer got to him before, like, a gang could figure out he's easily bribed with food. Things could have gone so much worse, corruption-wise rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: I just finished Athena and the Midnight Chicken and WOW Rich was actually kind of close to giving in to peer pressure there, if Athena hadn't thrown herself towards the proverbial sword he might have let himself be talked into something he really didn't want to do. rollerskatinglizard: It's possible! Baby Rich is very weak to peer pressure theunvanquishedzims: If they had been smart and manipulative and laid the groundwork first it would have been even easier, not just "here's a knife let your ingrained killing instincts do the work" rollerskatinglizard: Yeah! It could've gone much worse theunvanquishedzims: In the wrong hands Rich would make a very good, very sad soldier But like, deep down inside sad where no one could see it. rollerskatinglizard: That was actually close to his original story when I came up with him

[I’ll check with Skates to see if it’s okay to post that bit]

theunvanquishedzims: I'm already nervous about those two Horrible Old Men rollerskatinglizard: Which two? theunvanquishedzims: My face went D: at the idea that there's more than two rollerskatinglizard: *pats u gently* theunvanquishedzims: The werewolf guy with the boys on leashes is the one that makes my instincts scream KILL IT WITH FIRE, but there's also the one with the scar on his face? I wanna say Arthur Carroway rollerskatinglizard: >u> Gosh, Zims, idk WHY you'd be worried about him Just bc my tablet keyboard knows how to spell Carraway That's no reason to be concerned! rollerskatinglizard: Maybe Splick made him the [tarot] Devil bc he's devilishly handsome! Did you think of that?? theunvanquishedzims: I am terrified of him showing up, I know I'll be cringing too hard to keep reading right away. Men who abuse positions of power are so squicky, I couldn't even stand to watch the Office and Michael Scott is like, the most benign example of the trope But yeah a guy like that getting to Rich as a younger more mallable person, fresh-faced and eager to please. Ugh. Such a bad ending. rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: William Sandgren is the other one, I think rollerskatinglizard: Fortunately Rich did get rescued originally! I don't do sad endings theunvanquishedzims: He looks cool, I don't immediately want him dead for my own safety rollerskatinglizard: <u< theunvanquishedzims: ...I will ignore that face and continue to think of him as the lesser of two evils for now rollerskatinglizard: Absolutely feel free! ^u^ theunvanquishedzims: When I thought about this earlier I imagined Liam actually being the one to start a pissing contest with Arthur. Rich guy vs criminal guy, my grandmother bedazzled the skulls of her enemies, your teeth would make a lovely necklace, etc etc "Well I'd love to get them around your throat" ;) rollerskatinglizard: You know Liam QUITE well theunvanquishedzims: I'm a visual learner, so all the illustrations are helping me flesh out characteristics. Liam smiling like a psycho while his face drips blood is very telling. rollerskatinglizard: Hah!!! Right? God, he's SUCH a little firebrand theunvanquishedzims: (Also, AU where Liam is the babydoll heir and Rich is the soldier mod bodyguard he climbs like a tree) rollerskatinglizard: We have definitely discussed that AU thoughtfully >u> It's good, v tasty theunvanquishedzims: Rich is all THIS GOES AGAINST THE RULES and Liam is all oh you like being told what to do hmm? >:3~ rollerskatinglizard: Rich: God this is SUCH a bad idea, I'm gonna get so fired Liam: Not if you're good enough at it! theunvanquishedzims: I imagine without a pregnancy they'd be able to keep it under wraps slightly longer than grandma Beaker rollerskatinglizard: True! theunvanquishedzims: "Under wraps" like everyone in the house can't hear them rollerskatinglizard: Pffff YUP theunvanquishedzims: Ugh now I'm remembering Trimmer being scared of Rich getting drunk and pushy and I'm sad again rollerskatinglizard: No one likes Rich's drinking except Rich rollerskatinglizard: It's okay tho, Trimmer trusts Rich more after that theunvanquishedzims:I think he'll figure it out given enough time. Rich: Well everyone drinks because work sucks. Basil and Mitch: Nope! Rich: Well I'm a soldier mod so it just LOOKS like I'm drinking a lot. Angie and Thena: Nope! Rich: Well I have trauma from the Sympatico so I need alcohol to deal with that. Trimmer: Nope! Rich: ...well I guess I have a problem then. :< Everyone: Yep! rollerskatinglizard: Indeed theunvanquishedzims: I am so curious about their origins, how the relationship developed, how apparently they had half a handjob between them and went NOPE NEVER AGAIN, how they wound up co-sleeping, if they ever cried on one another, etc etc rollerskatinglizard: I'm 100% certain that Rich cried on Trimmer at least once, while Trimmer awkwardly patted his hair and gently called him a wuss or something If Trimmer ever cried it would've been in the middle of the night, and none of them would ever mention it in the light of day theunvanquishedzims: Was that Trimmer's first posting? I know it was Rich's, so he kiiiind of didn't know any better, but Trimmer is older by a bit rollerskatinglizard: It definitely wasn't Trimmer's first, no, the latest in a long string of postings that went from okay to bad to worse theunvanquishedzims: Oh nooooooo No wonder he finally said screw it and got a solo boat rollerskatinglizard: Yep

[puckngrind]

What’s In A Name: 11- J. Toews

Chapter 11.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah sent the summer traveling.  She has officially quit her job and they prepare for the upcoming season.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 4,425

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Beginnings.

Jon was intentional in making sure Bekah felt comfortable in what was now their home. He could see her comfort level change once they were back for good before training camp started. Jon suggested she transform one of the rooms into her office and they could redecorate the rest of their place as she wanted over the season. Bekah convinced him they could paint her new office space instead of hiring someone. So Jon’s first night off before the season, the two were taping off and laying tarps down in what was soon to be Bekah’s office.

“These colors remind me of Sedona, Beks.” Jon opens up the can and looks up at Bekah to see her pulling her hair into a bun

“The paint color is called Sedona clay, Babe.” Bekah laughs and finishes covering her new desk.

“So I’m right?” Jon points to the new furniture collected in the middle of the room with the clear plastic over it. The hint of blues and greens in the wood visible.

“Did you noticed the decor in the guest room for the walls?” She giggles watching Jon process as he starts putting the paint on the wall. He shakes his head. “Yes, Sedona is the inspiration for the office, Tae. There is a print of you hiking then two of us. One from this year and that first summer. I also bought some Arizona art.” Bekah takes in Jon’s smitten look as she watches his muscles flex while he reaches for the higher part of the wall.

“Why aren’t you painting too?” Jon doesn’t even turn around.

“Just taking in the view. It’s sexy as hell.” Jon shakes his ass at her and keeps painting.

“This room will never get painted if you don’t start painting the trim.” Jon turns to see Bekah sitting on the tarp. Leaning on her hands with her bottom lip sucked between her teeth. “Beks!” Jon flicks the paint roller at her. Paint splatters on Bekah’s face and she flinches.

“Did you just get paint on me?” Bekah stands with a fake sound of annoyance.

“Yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?” Jon smirks as Bekah stands on her tippy toes to try and be eye level with him.

“This.” Bekah’s finger swipes alone the roller in his hand and down Jon’s arm. A growl erupts from deep in Jon’s chest. He drops the roller and wraps his arms around her. Lips ghost her own.

“Is this the reaction you were looking for?” He bites at her bottom lip and Bekah nods. “But we need to paint this room so you can feel all home like while I’m gone.”

“Is that why? That’s why isn’t it Tae?” Bekah rubs down his jawline and he flinches.

“Beks, we’ve practically been together 24/7 since April. With the season starting, I’m just... I’m...” Jon drops his forehead to hers unable to speak the words.

“Worried. You are worried with you going out of town, I will what, hate it? Leave you? Go home? Is that what’s going on in your head, Baby?” Bekah leans back and Jon nods.

“It seems silly but I don’t want to lose you because of my job.” Jon’s whole body tenses and Bekah runs her hands down his arms then to his waist. Pulling him into her.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae.” Bekah whispers.

“You sure?” Jon can hardly be heard.

“Yeah, the mind blowing sex is too good to give up.” Bekah giggles trying to break the emotional conversation.

“Mind blowing sex, eh?” Jon brings his hands up to his head to create an explosion and smiles. “Just remember how mind blowing it is when I’m gone for over a week for the west coast and Canada stretches, m’kay?” Jon kisses her lips sweetly and Bekah presses into him.

“Care to remind me now?” Bekah batted her eyes at him. He pulled up at her thighs with no warning burying his face in neck.

“très bien, mon amour.” Jon breathes into her skin. “Very much so, my love... but what about painting this room?” Jon looks into Bekah’s eyes.

“Just hire someone.” She giggles as Jon makes his way to their bedroom. “We need to wash this paint off first.” Bekah stops kissing his neck and looks towards their bathroom.

“Fine...” Jon mumbles and changed direction from their bed to the bathroom. He placed Bekah on the counter and hardly moves to grab a towel and wet it. He gently starts wiping her face where the paint splattered. “You know when you shaved my beard off after the cup?” He stops and looks deep into her eyes there is a fleck of gold that glimmers in the pool of green and brown.

“How could I forget?” Bekah bites at her lip and takes the towel from him.

“I think that’s when I realized this wasn’t just sex. You and me. This was something more.” Jon admits.

“Really?” Jon could hear the self doubt in Bekah’s voice.

“Don’t get me wrong, the sex was the driving force of our first encounters but how gentle and sexy you were shaving me... that might have been the point when I knew. I’m so glad you were with me when I won the cup. I look back and I know my brain said this was way more and you needed to be here.” Jon’s admission makes Bekah blush.

“Tae, that was 4 years ago!” Bekah gulps.

“I know.” Jon kisses her slowly. “I didn’t say it’s when I knew I loved you. I said my brain knew this was more than sex.” Jon pulls her hips into his.

“Tae.” Bekah moaned into his now bare chest. Without answering, Jon pulls her off the counter and carries her to their bed.

“I promised mind blowing, let’s see if I can deliver.” He laughs while crawling up between her legs kissing Bekah’s lips first then her jaw followed by her collarbone. Bekah’s body arches into his touch while her hands find his hair. Jon’s lips and hand caress her breasts. Nipping each peak before running his tongue down her stomach. Bekah’s hips roll under his chest causing him to laugh into her navel. “My girl needs me to hurry, huh?” His eyes take in Bekah’s flushed face. Her lips part but she doesn’t speak. He returns to his work of worshiping her body while making his way to her core. His fingers and tongue working together to elicit moans from Bekah. “Do you know what I love?” Jon pulls his face from her heat and looks up at Bekah. She huffs our her disapproval and sits up on her elbows.

“What that you could feel my orgasm building and stopped?” Bekah’s voice has a hint of annoyance in it as she stares at Jon.

“Sorry, I will resume that in a second.” His fingers slide between her folds and Bekah’s body jolts. “I love that we’ve been doing this for years now and it’s not old. It’s not standard. It’s still a turn on.”

“Are you really having this epiphany now Tae? While you are between my legs?” Bekah’s eyebrows shoot up and Jon smiles.

“I guess. Sorry. I shall resume.” Jon’s mouth sucks at Bekah’s clit and her body jolts.

“Fuck, Jon!” Bekah’s body returns to the mattress as she feels her orgasm building. His fingers intentional deep inside her while he flicks and licks at her clit. “Tae.” Bekah’s hips jolt up and she feels Jon hum against her. Her hands finds his hair again and the wave crash over her. Jon’s actions don’t slow as her feet curl up onto his back. Fingers keep a pace that is sure to send another ripping through her body. Bekah pants trying to speak. “Tae, up. Please.” She almost whispers. Jon pulls away slightly and makes his way up her body. His hand gliding under her leg to press himself deep inside. His lips firm against hers and he grunts at the sensation.

“Je t'aime.” Jon whispers in her ear as he rolls his hips further into her.

“I love you too.” Bekah laments and pulls her legs further over his hips. Her hands grab at his back muscles. Jon’s trusts are slow and deep. Bekah’s back arches into him and he holds her body there. His hips pick up the pace. Both moan in response. Jon kisses Bekah’s lips hard as he feels both of their orgasms peak. Bekah clinching around him as he pulsates with release. Both panting and gasping for air. Jon collapses onto Bekah. Her fingers running through his hair. “Mind blowing.” Bekah whispers and feels Jon’s whole body laugh.

“Remember that when I’m gone for 4 days. Okay?” Jon groans while slowly moving next to Bekah and she moves her head to lay on his chest.

“And back to your epiphany, sex has never been standard with you.” Bekah feels his smile in sound of Jon’s agreement. “I feel it’s gotten better since this summer too.”

“How’s that?” Jon’s hand runs down her spine

“Not rushed. Not needing to fit a much into a short amount of time as possible. Before we had these chunks of time, you know?” Bekah’s voice is just above a whisper.

“I know and you are right.” Jon kisses the top of her head. “As a healthy relationship should be Beks.”

The season was finally here. Bekah was snuggled on the couch for the first game and decided to FaceTime Brynn. The two chatting about everything under the sun when she heard the buzz from the front door. “Did you order take out?” Brynn questions but Bekah shakes her head while walking to the front. She sees a delivery truck through the window. “He sent you something, didn’t he?” Brynn questions reading Bekah’s face.

“Hold on Rin. I need 2 hands.” Bekah places the phone on the entry day table and Brynn keeps up her guessing while Bekah retrieves the delivery and thanks the gentleman at the gate. “He did not have to do this.” Bekah places the two items on the table and picked up the phone to show Brynn. There were a large bouquet of wild flowers with stunning day lilies in a vase as well as a small cactus in a clay pot.

“The cactus is for your desk isn’t it?” Brynn takes in the flowers and cute plant.

“I’m sure.” Bekah returns the view back to herself. “He didn’t have to do that. He’s gone for 2 more days.” She exhales.

“But we are letting him, friend. Don’t fight it. You hear me?” Brynn jokingly pushes her finger into the camera. “What’s the card say?”

“For my number one fan, I’m so glad you love me back. See you soon. Always, Tae.” Bekah crashes back on the couch.

“I’m never sure rather to start dry heaving or say awe with you two and how hot for each other you are.” Brynn laughs.

“It’s his handwriting too, Rin. He must have done it before he left.” Bekah ran her fingers over the card. The words ringing in her ears from April when she told him she loved him.

“Because he loves you and he’s worried because this whole WAG life is not easy.” Brynn huffs out.

“I swear you two talk! He is worried. I explained how you and I were looking to travel to one of his away games. I’m coming to Columbus in two weeks with him...” Brynn squeals with delight.

“I’m looking forward to a whole Saturday with you! Well, I know I have to share you with your parents... but you know.”

“I’m coming Friday morning and spending it with my parents then you and the game on Saturday.” Bekah laughs taking in her best friend’s reaction. They say their goodbyes and Bekah turns her attention to the game.

The first 2 games went well for the team and Jon. He slipped into bed late after the St. Louis game. Wrapping his arms tight around Bekah and feel his jersey on her body. “Hey baby, I’m home.” His voice was low. Bekah shifted into his arms waking up.

“There is my hat trick Captain!” Bekah moves her arms around him and kisses his lips. “I was hoping you’d wake me up so I can congratulate you.” She kisses him again. Her leg slides up his and around his hip.

“You fell asleep in my sweater huh?” Jon nibbles as her neck. Bekah nods.

“I finished overtime in here.” She whispered. “Figured it wasn’t a big deal since I’m wearing my jacket tomorrow.” Bekah moans.

“Hmmm.... today actually so I need to work quickly.” Jon hums and slides over top of Bekah.

Bekah pulled at her Toews jacket maybe a million times while waiting for Jon to skate out for warmups. She had sat in the family section at the United Center once before but without the eyes of the world on her. She was thankful Alyssa showed up and the boys made sure they were next to each other. They fell into easy conversation. Alyssa pointed out each girl to help Bekah remember their names and who they belonged too. The teams skated out and Jon found his way to glass in front of them. He waved her down. Bekah mouths no. “I don’t think he’s taking no for an answer.” Alyssa laughs taking in the interaction. Bekah slid out of her seat and walked the 10 rows to the glass. Jon’s eyes lock on hers.

“Catch.” He yells and before Bekah could ask what, a puck was flying over the glass at her. He blew her a kiss and skated off. Bekah could feel her face the same color as his jersey as she slid the puck in her pocket and then walked back to her seat.

“Well that was adorable.” One of the girls from behind her says.

“What’s it say?” Alyssa’s shoulder bumps Bekah’s. Her eyebrow raises as she pulls the puck out of the pocket. The opening night 2018 logo printed on the front with the Blackhawks and Maple Leafs emblems and the date. It had stick tape wrapped around it and Bekah spins it slowly around.

“Bekah’s first home opener” Bekah angles it towards Alyssa and catches the sharpie on the bottom. “Oh!” Her eyes land on the bottom where Jon wrote thanks for being my #1 fan! Always, Tae

“That’s sweet. Do you have one from the playoff game?” Alyssa asks but before Bekah can answer she hears a girl two rows back.

“So, THAT’S Jonny’s girlfriend?” Bekah turns slightly to see a young blonde who looks more like she’s going to the club than sitting at a hockey game. “Is she gonna take Queen Dayna’s role away and plan the WAG outings?” The words rolled off the tongue of the young girl in a venomous way and Bekah couldn’t focus on anything else. She met Dayna Seabrook a few times. She was very kind and welcoming. Bekah never thought about being the leader of the women like Jon was of the men. Alyssa excused herself to get drinks and Bekah feels her phone buzz.

Brynn: how’s your first home opener?

Bekah: Am I suppose to lead the WAGs? Like am I in charge of them? Wtf Rin!

Brynn: excuse yourself and call me.

Bekah did just that.

“Who put that in your head?” Brynn didn’t even let Bekah say hello.

“Some girl sitting behind me asked the girl next to her if I was Jonny’s girl and if I was taking over the WAGs.” Bekah tugs at her jacket. “Rin... like, that’s not...” Brynn stops her.

“Sweetie, no one is asking you to do so. There is a well established wives group with the Hawks. Was this girl wearing a jacket?” Brynn questions.

“No. Looked like she was heading out to the Short North not sitting at a hockey game.” Bekah laughs a little.

“So she’s either sitting there to try to get to know the girls and catch herself a hockey player or she’s fucking one and he was being nice and let her sit in his seats. Ignore her and enjoy the game with Alyssa.” Brynn smiles knowing what Bekah will say next.

“How the fuck do you know I’m sitting next to her? I swear you and Jon talk!” Bekah pulls at the bridge of her nose.

“I just know he wants to make you as comfortable as possible. Go catch a puck and I’ll see you soon!” Brynn smiles.

“Already did. Personalized too.” Bekah rolls the hard rubber between her fingers in her denim pocket while listening to the delight of Brynn. “I hear the intro, need to go!”

The game was high scoring and Jon scored his fifth goal in the new season. Over time ended with a Toronto score. Bekah and the other girls walked down to the designated family room. Taking a picture of them all. Dayna making sure Bekah was in this one. Bekah was standing in a group of the girls talking when Jon’s arm surprise her as he pulls her into his chest. “Hey Tae.” She turns in his grip to look up at the defeated look of her man. “Ready to go home?” He nods and they say goodbye to the team. Jon’s muscles were tight while driving home. “Thanks for the puck.” Bekah breaks the silence.

“I wish we could have won and you could have seen my hat trick not the other team’s.” His voice has a hint of anger in it.

“I know, you did well. I enjoyed myself.” Bekah runs her fingers through his hair.

“That’s good. You looked good in the middle of the ladies.” Bekah sees the hint of a smile.

“Now where am I going to put this?” Bekah retrieves the puck from her pocket.

“With the others.” Jon mumbles as he pulls into the garage.

“Others? Like your hat trick pucks, first goal? Those in the game room?” Bekah shuts the door and stares at Jon who has this look like he’s up to something.

“Nope. Let me show you.” His hand slides into hers as they make their way to the guest room Bekah stayed in for the Stanley Cup. He opens the top drawer of the dresser. Bekah hears the sound of pucks sliding and looks inside.

“What’s this Tae?” She picks up one and spins it around her finger.

“Bekah’s first Cup game.” She gasps.

“I’ve been collecting pucks for you. Well I had to track down one but the rest were intentional for you.” He picks up one. “This is the one I had Derek help me with.” He hands her the puck. The 2015 All-Star game emblem on the top. Bekah twirled it in her hands to read the writing on the tape.

“When we met.” She read the words out. “Oh, Tae.” Bekah feels the emotion in her throat.

“It’s silly. I know. I kept a puck for you from warm ups when we won then you left for work and I just tucked it in this drawer. We weren’t exactly defining things so I just left them in here, you know.” Jon’s lips touch her temple.

“Can I display them in my office? Get one of those shelf things you have?” Bekah lays her chin on his chest and stares into the loving and intentional chocolate eyes of her boyfriend.

“Of course, Baby.” Jon scoops Bekah up and carries her to their bedroom loving that she didn’t fight him anymore on the love they shared.

Before Bekah knew it she was on a plane back to Columbus. Brynn told her she got special permission from her boss to pick Bekah up as long and she stopped to visit. Bekah sees her best friend holding a sign. “Sorry I’m not a foot taller and a hot ass hockey man but I’ve missed you. Really Rin?” Bekah laughs reading the sign aloud and embracing her bestie.

“Well, normally he’s the one picking you up.” Brynn shrugs. “Let’s get me to work so you can visit and then to your parents.” Brynn links arms with Bekah and the two make their way to her car. “Wait! Did you bring me my payment?” Brynn stops dead in her tracks feet from her car.

“Yes, the Garrett’s popcorn is safely tucked inside my suitcase.” Bekah laughs at Brynn’s excitement.

“I guess there are benefits to you living in Chicago.”

“Popcorn is one of them, huh?” Bekah eyes her best friend who is shaking her head.

Bekah’s visit with her parents went exactly how she expected. The conversation with her dad while sitting outside taking in the crisp October evening was one she didn’t expect. “Do you think you will marry him?” Her dad’s voice was low she almost didn’t catch it.

“What Dad?” Bekah’s eyes go wide.

“Do you think you will marry Jon?” His voice loud and clear this time.

“I... I... I mean.” Her dad chuckled.

“B, you and flustered ways. Still the same since you could talk.” Her dad laughs harder. “Is this different than the last relationship?”

“Very much so.” That question was easy to answer.

“Do you see yourself with him forever? Even after his career is over?” His matter of fact tone mirrored Jon’s and Bekah just realized the similarities.

“Yeah I kinda do. And I don’t love him because of what he does, you know?” Bekah’s voice questioning.

“I know you don’t B. I’m pretty sure he thinks you would prefer him not to be in the spotlight.” Her dad wasn’t wrong and she let those words soak in.

Just like before Bekah wore Jon’s jersey to the game. After a day filled with hitting up her favorite places with Brynn she was ready to be back at Nationwide again. Jon didn’t play his best but the team won. She met him in the familiar hallway between the locker rooms. Several of the Blue Jackets players still remembered her and said their hellos. She laughed as Jon scoped her up. “Whatcha doing Tae?” She runs her hand through his damp hair.

“Doing things I wish I could have done for years of being down here with you.” He kisses her lips. “Let’s get back to the hotel, okay?” He drops her gently on the ground and pulls her into his side. “Enjoy Brynn today? Get your Columbus fill for now?”

“Yeah. Actually I don’t miss it as much as I thought I would.” Bekah looks up to see Jon glowing.

“That’s good, right?” He opens her car door and she slides on only nodding at the admission.

“Crazy to think this isn’t home.  The only places for me to sleep are your hotel room, my old bedroom at my parents’ or Brynn’s place.”  Bekah pulls the car into the hotel’s garage.

“I guess but we really never stayed at your place during the season.”  Jon answers then he clicks his tongue remembering something else.  “Before I forgot, the guys were talking Halloween party before our Canada roadie. We need a couples costume.” Jon pops out of Bekah’s car and jogs over to her door. As he slams it behind her the popping of his shoulder is heard by both.

“You okay there Tin Man?” She giggles and they both look at each other.

“Perfect!” The two say in unison.

The Halloween party was a blast. Bekah dressed like Dorothy and Jon as the Tin man. She’s pretty sure his hand only left her body to refill their drinks. Jon wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or what but watching Bekah interact with his hockey family with such ease made his heart skip a beat. He should have guessed these social events would be this way.

“She’s a keeper, Jonny.” Duncan interrupted Jon’s thoughts and he looks over and just nods his head. “I’m not sure how you managed it.” His chirp was met by a shoulder.

“To be honest, luck. Luck is how I found her.” Jon watches as Bekah and Alyssa chat with some of the other girls. Her head falls back laughing while she tugs on one of her braids.  Jon crosses the room and presses his body in behind her.  “Ready whenever you are.”  His breath is heavy on her ear.  She nods and they head for the door.

“Are you sure you are okay staying home by yourself?” Jon asked for the millionth time while packing for the first long road trip of the year.

“Yes, Tae. I have a project to work on and want to mess with that one wall in the living room.” Bekah sits on the bed with her feet tucked under her. “I’m not going to run back home with every trip.” She huffs out.

“But...” Bekah crawls over to the foot of the bed where Jon is packing.

“But nothing. It’s 5 days then I get you for a whole day off. I don’t even have to share you with a morning skate or meetings.” She giggles and he joins her.

The Canadian stretch was not good for Jon and the team. Even with starting out as strong as he did this season there was a tension felt with each loss. Jon hadn’t been gone long for morning skate after their return when Bekah sees her phone buzzing.

Jon: they fired Joel.

Jon: hired a guy my age

Jon: I think he’s younger than Keith

Jon: I’m coming home

Bekah looks at the texts and doesn’t know what to do so she calls Brynn.

“What should I do? Expect? Help!” Bekah is pacing waiting for the door to fly open at any point.

“Bekah, I’m going to be honest. This might get ugly with the fan base and Jon being the captain. There maybe a ripple effect.” Bekah’s wince was noticed even over the phone.

“So... what do I do?” Bekah paces.

“Brace for impact.” Brynn’s voice is firm.

“Impact?” Bekah questions.

“Yeah, impact.” With that the door swings open and Jon’s bag hits the floor with a thud and his ridged body is just standing in the doorway with a mixture of emotions spread across his face.

“I gotta...” Bekah pulls the phone from her ear to hang up.

“Good luck.” Brynn whispered while hanging up. 

Bekah makes her way to Jon and wraps her arms around him. He melts into her touch.  “I’m here Tae.  I’m here.”  Bekah kisses his shoulder and they just stand there in an embrace.

[prorevenge]

Got an asshole fired and helped a co-worker get a job they wanted.

About 20 years ago, I got a job at a warehouse/ delivery place, pulling and delivering windshields. When I started, there were 6 drivers - 1 old white guy who'd been there since humanity existed, 4 young black guys, and me (white female). I mention this only because, unfortunately, it does become important later. There were also 4-5 people in the office running sales/ admin, including the only other female at the company. She'd wanted a delivery job, but had been told "that's not a woman's job" so was stuck in the office. The guy who hired me made a big deal about how he'd stuck his neck out for me, and was getting crap from his buddies for hiring a woman. There was some undertone about equal opportunity, but I've never counted on that and made sure I went above and beyond.

At the time, it was a locally-owned place, and rules were not really standardized about most things. In theory, each driver was supposed to take orders for the next route scheduled, load up the next available truck, and head out. In reality, there was an unofficial pecking order, and each driver had "their" route/s and truck. As the new guy, I got the less-than-great pickup truck with an open-air rack and various problems; most of the other trucks were box trucks (think small moving trucks) so the windshields wouldn't get wet as they were delivered, and the driver could rearrange things inside the truck if the route got switched around for whatever reason. I also got the furthest-away route with the latest delivery times, so I usually got stuck in rush hour on the way back. I know the rules, though, so I shut my mouth, sucked it up, and waited for turnover to make me not-the-new guy and get a better truck/ route.

Surprisingly, turnover didn't happen. There were the usual problems with 2 of the workers not pulling their weight, but... no one ever got fired. The worst offender was, of course, the guy at the top of the unofficial pecking order, we'll call him Mike. Dude was huge - easily a foot taller than me (I'm not short), I'm pretty sure all he did was work and workout, and he constantly bragged about doing steroids to get bigger. He would only take the shortest run with the fewest deliveries and spend the rest of the time talking sh!t with the other drivers or just randomly vanishing. A couple months after I started, I got some big orders for my routes all in a row, and asked for help so I could gather everything, load up, and head out on time. This was not uncommon - there were several machines used for pulling the stock, so if you finished your orders early, you helped others who were behind. Not Mike, though - you'd think I'd asked him to skin a puppy. Got in my face, yelling about how dare I ask him to do anything, I'm just the new guy, get out of here and don't let him see me again, etc., you get the picture. One of the other guys I'd become friends with pulled me away and helped me get loaded up and out the door, but that never really sat right with me. Mike had never been friendly to me, but after that day, he'd go out of his way to be an ass - nothing big, but enough to seriously irritate me and intimidate the other guys to not talk to me when he was around.

A little while later, I mentioned the outburst to the lady in the office, and she told me why nothing would ever be done about Mike or anyone else. Apparently the personnel guy, we'll call him Tony, had gotten fired from his previous job over a complaint about racism. He'd used the phrase "Black Friday" to refer to, well, Black Friday: the day after Thanksgiving, when sales are supposed to get companies back in the black/ financially solvent. Apparently one of his employees claimed he used it as a racist remark, it got taken to court and somehow, Tony was found guilty and fired. Basically, that meant that he couldn't take any actions against a black worker ever again, because he's got a prior judgement against him. The drivers knew that, and Mike (and one other but he's not important here) absolutely used it to do the bare minimum required to stay employed. That didn't sit right with me either, but I was just a driver, and the new guy, so nothing I could do about it.

Until...

A couple months later, the owner did some necessary maintenance around the place, and one of the things done was getting rid of "my" old truck and buying a new-er one that was half-enclosed/ half open-air racks. The owner apparently said it should go to "whoever had driven the old truck" as an apology for not having heat/ ac in the old one, but I'm not super picky. Offered it to the old guy, because seniority, but he turned it down in favor of "his" truck that he was used to and was fully enclosed. I offered it to the two black guys who actually did their jobs and were pretty decent to me (when Mike wasn't around), but same thing - they wanted their own, enclosed trucks. Ok, cool. Newish truck for me! Spent the first day getting used to it, and stayed late off the clock getting it sparkling clean, inside and out. The only thing it lacked was the new car smell, everything else was polished, cleaned, buffed, shined, etc.

Well, apparently, the fact that I didn't bow and scrape to Mike pissed him off even more, and seeing the "new" truck out back all shiny and pristine was too much to handle. He was already out on a run when I came in the next day, so I loaded up and headed out as per usual. Got back about 5 minutes before his second run of the day was supposed to leave and he came storming out before I could even get out of the truck. Screaming profanity, "how dare you take my truck, get tf out of that thing, get your sh!t out, that's my truck, I'm gonna take it 'cause it looks good and I deserves it, you're just a bitch, you don't deserve anything nice, I'm gonna f**k you up," etc etc.

Side note: I don't tolerate bullies at all, and I don't back down easily. I was always the little kid, growing up, and I learned just how far I could push it, mouthing off and calmly standing up to kids bigger than me because "oh, you're so tough? You're gonna pick on a little girl?" As I grew up, I tended to work in "men's jobs," so I was used to taking some sh!t but also drawing a line firmly in the sand and defending it. I am occasionally surprised I haven't gotten decked a time or two, but I've gotten pretty good at reading a situation.

Back to the story: I'm sitting in the newish truck with Mike standing outside the door screaming profanity and threats at me. For all the sh!t that Mike talked, though, I got the feeling he was used to getting his way without actual violence. I calmly opened the door and got out, but left my personal belongings in the truck and locked the door behind me. He was doing his damnedest to intimidate me, getting up in my space, finger in my face, personal threats, etc. I started walking toward the office, which was all the way on the opposite end of the warehouse, and he followed me the whole way, still screaming, threats getting worse and worse, apparently ignorant to the fact that literally every single employee had stopped what they were doing and was watching us. I walked into the office and just stood there for about 4-5 minutes, staring at the owner while Mike just kept going off. He finally realized I wasn't reacting to him and ran out of steam, and you could see the realization of where he was register on his face, but he glanced over at Tony and smirked, probably figuring he was still untouchable.

In the silence that followed, I calmly said to the owner, "You have four black guys working in the warehouse." He nodded. "And you have one woman working out there." He nodded again, and I saw the light come on. Without looking at anyone else, I said, "I do not want to pull the gender card here, but if something is not done about this situation, I will have to take steps to ensure my safety." I grabbed the tickets for my next run, turned around, and walked back to the warehouse to start pulling the orders.

I'm not really sure what happened next, because all the other guys had mysteriously gotten loaded and left on their runs in record time, and I followed not long after. When I got back, Mike was no longer there, and one of the other guys was training the admin lady to be a new driver. Over the next week, I got quiet "thank you"s from her, Tony, and the other drivers who actually did work. The other slacker guy got fired a while later for possession with intent to distribute, I believe. I left about a year later to drive bigger trucks, but by then we had a pretty solid crew of drivers who helped each other out.

TL;DR: I worked as a warehouse/ delivery person with 4 black guys and an HR guy who'd been fired as a racist for using the phrase "Black Friday," so he couldn't take any action without being accused of racism again. One of the black drivers who thought he ruled the place didn't like that I got a newish delivery truck that no one else wanted, screamed and threatened me as I walked into the office so everyone could see; pointed out there were 4 black drivers and one female. Guy was fired.

​

Sorry, that was WAY longer than I thought it'd be when I remembered it. Let me know if anything's unclear or this isn't where it belongs.

(source) story by (/u/Manarelle)

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Four:  I Quit!

ICYMI:  Chapter Three:  Abuela’s Food Truck

A/N:  Hi, friends!  Here we are.  Another day.  Another week.  Another chapter.  And this one is 100% turning point.  And it’s beautiful.  So, as always...Feedback is appreciated.  A like...A reblog.  Just a little something, something so I know this isn’t a waste of time?  Please?  K, bye! x

Later that night, it was that time again.  Time to walk into the fire.  We could manage.  If all else fails, I’m sure there’s a cool guy willing to buy us drinks again.  But since there’s money in our bank accounts again, we could probably stand to buy our own.  Regardless, it was yet another night at the salt mines.  And a little positivity could go a long way.  If we go into this pissed off and bitter, people are going to pick up on that.  And I don’t need to bring that kind of energy.  I didn’t hate all of the staff.  Most of them weren’t exactly on my good side, but not all of them were terrible.  

 Then, I got to my first table of the night.  And they weren’t assholes.  I’ll take that as a win.  My next table?  Not miserable.  Ok. Things are starting to look up. But then…Toward the end of my shift. There they were.  Again.  They came back.  And they were in my section.  Fan…fucking…Tastic.  Still, I slapped on that fake ass smile they wanted to see.  Because god forbid I come off like I’m pissed off to see them.  Of course not.  Of course I’m happy to see you.  Because you coming in here means I get paid.  That correlation fucking sucked.

 “Oh…” she got one look at me and instantly turned her nose up.  Awesome, “It’s you.”

 “It’s me,” I confirmed, “Welcome back, ma’am.  How may I help you?”

 “Can you find me a new waiter?” she scoffed, “One that’s a little more competent than you?”

 “I am competent, ma’am,” I kept my cool.  Don’t let her piss me off.  Don’t let her piss me off.  Don’t let her piss me off.

 “If last night was any evidence of that,” she rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t say so.  If you were in one of my restaurants, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place.”

 “I’m sorry.” That you ever crawled out of the primordial ooze, “Now, other than a new waiter, how may I…?”

 “I want a new waiter.”

 Santa Maria, Madre de Dios.  Ruega por nosotros pecadores.  Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerté.  Amén, “You were seated in my section, ma’am.  I’m sorry, but I can’t get you a new waiter.”

 “Then, we’re leaving.” Good fucking riddance.  She says she’s leaving, but she didn’t even move.  I wasn’t stopping her.  If that’s the case, then what the hell was she doing?  Other than terribly bluffing.

 Then, as if the night couldn’t have gone further downhill, my manager came over, “Is there a problem here?”

 “I want a new waiter,” the woman stood her ground, “I don’t care where I’m seated. I want a new waiter.”

 “Of course, ma’am.” Spineless prick, “Frankie, can I see you for a moment?”

 “Sure,” I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I followed him into the kitchen.  Oh, shit.  This can’t be good, “What’s up?”

 “This is the second night in a row I’ve gotten complaints about you.” Taking me over his knee in front of everyone would’ve been less demeaning, “And from the same person!”

 “She’s a prime example of the customer not always being right,” I bit the inside of my cheek in attempts to not blow right the fuck up about her.

 “That’s not part of our job, Frankie,” the manager scolded me, “Our job is to keep them happy and keep them coming back.”

 “It’s not part of our job to become their best friend,” I grumbled.  

 “If it was,” he went on, “I would’ve fired you by now.”

 “Look,” I swallowed my pride, “I need this job.  Don’t let this one customer be the deciding factor.”

 “You got one more chance, Frankie,” he sighed out, “If I hear one more peep out of that woman because of you, you’re on your ass.  I don’t care how bad you need this job.  I want you to buddy up to her like your life depends on it.  Because by the sounds of it, it does.”

 In that moment, I wasn’t sure what snapped in my brain, but when I opened my mouth again, what I intended to say was some sort of empty apology and to go back out there. However, that wasn’t the case, “I quit.”

 “What?”

 “I quit,” I spoke a little firmer.  That felt kind of good.  I untied my apron and dropped it in his hand, “I fucking quit.”

 “I thought you said you needed this job.”

 “I thought I did,” I beamed, “But I don’t.  It sounds like you need me more than I need you.  I fucking quit!  I don’t have to stay and deal with this bullshit anymore.  Fuck her.  Fuck you. Fuck everyone here I don’t share blood with.  Later, bitches!”

 And just like that, I walked out.  I was done. My last shift was over.  And I was done.  I had a feeling that if I were to come within a hundred feet of this place ever again, it’s going to be a police escort off the property.  I didn’t care anymore.  I was done.  I didn’t have to deal with the bullshit anymore.  I was free.  When I slipped into the alley to wait for César and Tony to finish up for the night, I put a quarter in the payphone outside and pulled out that business card.

 “Hello?”

 “You gave me your number, Old Man,” I couldn’t wipe the fucking smile off my face if I wanted to, “The least I could do is call, so you’re not waiting for the phone to ring.”

 “Frankie!” he chimed on the other end.  Oh, that just put a good feeling back in my heart.  The only thing that would make it any better would be if Abuela’s truck came by. But this would do, “How you doing, kid?”

 “I’m in,” I told him, “I’m so fucking in.”

 The other end was quiet for a minute.  Ok…Good feeling slowly going away.  Say something, Old Man.  You told me to call you when I was ready.  Just fucking say something, “And your brothers?”

 “Not sure about them yet,” I admitted, “But I know I’m in.  And…Uh…Before I’m completely in…”

 “What is it, Frankie?” he worried, “Everything alright?”

 “Everything’s fine,” I wasn’t sure how true that statement was.  I did just quit my job.  Out of pure anger and a snap decision.  But I also had this in my back pocket, “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

 “Can’t say I am,” the Old Man told me, “Why?”

 “My…” This was going to sound so stupid.  But whatever it takes, “My mother wants to have you over for dinner.”

 “That’s not a problem,” he allowed, “What time should I be there?”

 Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting that to go over so well, “Uh…Eight o’clock?”

 “I can do eight o’clock,” the Old Man confirmed, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 “Ok,” I nodded, “See you tomorrow night.”

 Slowly, but surely, I hung up the phone.  What the fuck just happened?  Hold on, Frankie.  Back track here.  One minute, you were dealing with the woman with the stick in her ass.  She wanted a new waiter and you weren’t having it. Mostly just to piss her off because you’re occasionally petty.  Then, your manager pissed you off even more.  You quit your job because of you being pissed off.  You called the Old Man.  And…Now, you’re having dinner with him and Mama tomorrow night.  My head hurts.  I needed painkillers.  And a lot of them.  We’ll start with aspirin and work our way up to morphine.

 “Hey, Frankie?” César came out first, “You alright, hermanito?  You seem like you’re about to kill someone.  Or like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 “A little bit of both actually,” I sat on the back steps, “Watch your asses in there. I just quit.”

 “Are you serious?” he gasped, “Frankie, why would you do that?”

 “I wasn’t dealing with it anymore,” I did all I could to keep myself from crying, “Fuck this place, César.  I’d love nothing more than to watch it burn to the ground, but I don’t have to deal with it anymore.  It was either I quit or I get fired because of the same woman that was trying to get me fired last night.  And I’ll be damned if I let her get the satisfaction.  I called the Old Man.  Everything should be fine.  He’s coming for dinner tomorrow night.”

 “So Mama can meet him,” César figured, “Did you tell him you’d take the job?”

 “I don’t have much of a choice now,” I shrugged, “It’s either unemployment or employment.  I don’t know about you, but I got a good feeling about taking the job with the Old Man.”

 “We’ll see what Mama has to say about him.”

 “The hell are you two doing out here?” Tony joined us, throwing on his jacket.

 “Waiting on your slow ass to get out here,” I jabbed.

 “Are you alright, Frankie?” he wondered, “I heard people say you were blowing up on the manager and that you walked out.”

 “I quit,” I filled him in, “I got something better lined up anyway.”

 “The Old Man?”

 “Hope so.”

 Just like any other night, the three of us hopped the subway and headed home.  I’m not going to miss this.  Not in the least bit.  If the Old Man lets me work in the Narrows, I’d be spitting distance from home. No more subways.  No more buses.  No more public transit.  I wonder if the Old Man would let me take his town car every now and then.  That’d be pretty cool, too.  Now, I just needed to tell Mama we were having company tomorrow night.  

 “Mama?” I went in first and did a quick look around, “We’re home.  And on time.”

 “Welcome home, mijos,” Mama greeted us from the living room, “Cómo te fué en el trabajo?”

 “Long,” Tony threw himself into the armchair.

 “Tiring,” César took the other end of the couch.

 “It’s funny you ask, Mama,” I bit the inside of my cheek, “Do you remember me telling you about the man from the restaurant?  The one we had drinks with last night that wanted to help us?”

 “Si.”

 “I talked to him tonight,” I went on, “Is it alright that he’s coming for dinner tomorrow night?”

 “That’s fine,” she allowed, “I’m glad you took my advice, Francisco.  I’m glad one of you listen to me.”

 “We listen to you, too, Mama!” Tony whined.

 “Antonio,” Mama hushed him, “I know you do.  But sometimes, tu hermanito listens a little better.  Isn’t that right, mijo?”

 “I do what I can,” I kissed her cheek, “I’m going to head to bed, ok, Mama?”

 “Ok,” her hand immediately went to my forehead, “You’re not getting sick, are you, Francisco?”

 “I’m alright,” I assured her.  I knew better than to tell her not to worry.  She’d beat me senseless for saying something so stupid.  But I digress, “Good night.”

 “Good night…”

 Today really did kick my ass.  And it went by in a blur.  I still had a hard time believing I quit the restaurant.  I didn’t realize it’d be that easy.  Fortunately, I had something else lined up.  As long as Mama liked the Old Man, I’d be golden.  If she didn’t…Well…What Mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?  And as long as he came through on our deal.  Tomorrow couldn’t get here fast enough.  So, I shut my eyes and hoped for the best.

 The next morning, I got up bright and early.  I knew Mama would be up, too.  She didn’t have to work today, so we had all day to do as we pleased. Although, I knew I’d have to break the news that I don’t have a job anymore to her eventually today.  She’ll start to wonder why Tony and César are going to work, but I’m sticking around home.  There’s no way I took tonight off just because the Old Man was coming to dinner. She might kill me for it, but I’m sure the new job will be much better than the old one.

 I looked over at my brothers’ beds and sure enough, they were still sleeping like babies. Aww…Every part of me was wanting to wake their asses up, but they had a long shift to put in tonight without me. Instead, I covered them both up a little better and quietly closed the door on my way out.  And they seem to think I’m the one that needs to be looked after.  Sometimes, I do, but nine times out of ten, these two would both be dead without me. I seem to remember a time when I had to stop Tony from walking into oncoming traffic.  Regardless, I walked into the kitchen and found Mama already at the stove.  I love her.

 “Buenos dias, Mama,” I kissed her cheek and got the coffee pot going.  

 “Buenos dias,” she gasped, “You’re up early, Francisco.  I would’ve thought you’d sleep until at least noon.”

 “Guess I’m just up early,” I shrugged, peeking over her shoulder, “What do you have going on?”

 “You said we were expecting company tonight,” Mama reminded me, “I thought I’d get an early start.”

 “You wouldn’t want a little help, would you?” I offered.  It didn’t matter what age I was.  Cooking was one of those things that always came naturally to me. Why?  I don’t know.  But I didn’t care.  Because I could still cook like a dream.  That’s something that would never go away.  And Mama knew that.

 “I’d love a little help,” she allowed, “While you and your brothers were shopping yesterday, I should’ve had you get some rice.  We’re completely out.”

 “Really?” That never happened.  Ever.

 “Nothing,” Mama showed me the end of the big ass bag of rice.  With no rice in it.

 “I’ll go get you some, if you need it.”

 “No, no,” she stopped me, “I’ll go get.  You stay here and keep an eye on things.  Make sure nothing burns.”

 “Got it,” I let her go off to the store and stayed behind to watch all the pots boil. Oh, Mama…You overdid.  I mean, I understand you want to go all out with your cooking when we have people coming over, but you didn’t need to go this hard. Bless this woman.  May no misfortune ever befall her.

 By the looks of it, she’s got churro dough started.  Muy bien, Mama.  Muchas gracias.  I know what I’m having for breakfast.  All it needed was to be piped.  The oil was hot enough.  Why not? I scooped the dough into a piping bag and started squeezing the dough into the oil.  Sweet Jesus…There were few things as satisfying as the first churro in the oil.  And Mama’s churros rarely disappointed.  She had something secret in the dough and she’d take that secret to the grave with her. Even I didn’t know it and I knew all of Mama’s cooking tricks.  Her churro recipe, though?  Way too coveted.

 “Buenos dias, hermanito,” César stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep and admiring the small accumulation of churros cooling off to the side, “Hell yeah, Mama made churros.”

 Just as he went to reach for one, I immediately slapped the back of his hand, “No.”

 “Ow!” he nursed his hand, “What the fuck, Frankie?  You still have a whole fucking bag of dough yet.”

 “You know damn well Mama knows exactly how many this dough is going to make,” I shoved my finger in his face, “If one goes missing, she’s going to be pissed.  Do you want to throw off Mama’s rhythm?”

 “God no…”

 “Alright then,” I went back to making churros, “Besides, those are still probably pretty hot.  They just came out of the oil a couple minutes ago.”

 “Speaking of Mama,” César sat down at the kitchen table, “Where is she?  There’s no way in hell she’s still in bed.”

 “She had to make a grocery store run,” I told him, “Apparently, we were out of rice and no one knew it, so she went to get some.”

 “Oh, I can’t wait to come home from work tonight,” César swooned, “The best part about us having company.  Mama cooks. And cooks more than what the four of us could possibly eat.  We eat like kings for the next week.”

 “Or your lazy ass learns to cook,” I teased him a bit.

 “Why would I do that,” he retaliated, “when you’d do all the cooking for me anyway?”

 “Because you wouldn’t do it right,” I rolled my eyes.  Both Mama and I had a thing when it came to the kitchen.  No one dares use it other than us, “I wouldn’t trust you ten feet in front of a microwave, let alone actually attempt cooking.”

 “Thanks, Frankie,” César made his coffee, “Love you, too.”

 “If I didn’t love you,” I argued, “Would I be doing this?  Would I have beaten you for the sake of you not burning yourself on churros?”

 “Valid point,” he gave me an appreciative nod.

 “Good morning…” And there’s the other one.  I was wondering how long it would take them to wake up once Mama started cooking.

 “Morning, Tony,” I grabbed a cup for him from the cabinet and handed it off.

 “Bless you.”

 “I do what I can,” I went back to the churros on the stove.  Mama always said to keep cooking them until they float.  Then, take them out of the oil.

 Oh, tonight was going to be a night.  I could feel it already.  My bones wouldn’t lie to me.

[shes-an-oddbird]

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary -  A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

Chapter 5 - Naughty and Nice

Summary -  While on a delivery run, Bobbi contemplates why Hunter insists on earning holiday cash at the Christmas Tree Lot instead of taking a job at her coffee shop.

Prompt - Naughty and Nice Relationship - Huntingbird POV - Bobbi

“Kora, I’ll be back in thirty, okay?” Bobbi glances at Kora who is carefully testing the now working espresso machine. She twists the lever to dispense the coffee and it spurts angerly at her before filling the cup. She stares back at it terrified and Bobbi has to fight back her amusement “You gonna be okay?”

She turns quickly, smiling and nodding eagerly. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

“Call if you need me.”

The machine spurts again. “Will do.”

Bobbi smiles and picks up her carriers of coffees and tea, places them on a pushcart and heads out of the shop. Mockingbird’s doesn’t usually make deliveries, but enough mall employees had gotten together and pleaded with her to send a coffee cart around during the hours they were too busy to get away. It had worked out well enough; bringing in extra income and tips certainly didn’t hurt this time of year. She had a long list of friends and family she wanted to get gifts for and unless some of them got bumped to the naughty list, she wasn’t going to be done in time. Something Jemma points out to her every time she delivers her tea.

“I have most of them, just a few more to go.”

If most was three and a few was something like twelve.

She runs into several shops and then drops by May’s office with the second cup of tea on her cart. May gratefully accepts it and Coulson who is sitting across from her at the desk pouts over his lack of beverage. “Daisy can show you how to get the app.” Bobbi waves good-bye and continues her route.

She swings by the North Pole with two large coffee cups, having promised Elena and Daisy the first batch once the espresso machine was back up and running. Elena practically meets her at the elevator but Daisy she has to hunt down amongst the crowd. She eventually finds her and several kids huddled around a table stacked high with envelops. Daniel, a new volunteer she’d met the other day at the coffee shop was with her, helping the kids write out their names. She’s not known him long but already he is one of her favorite customers. He took his coffee black, tipped well, and looked at Daisy with hearts in his eyes. They’d even had a long conversation about her Antique Espresso machine and he thinks he has a lead on where she could get the part she needed to get it running.

“What are you guys doing?” Bobbi asks cheerfully.

“Writing letters to Santa!” The kids answered in unison making her laugh.

“Yep, and in a few hours, we get to open them all back up and reply to them.” Daisy whispers to Bobbi as she takes her beverage. “Hey if you’re heading outside, tell Hunter to set aside a nice tree for me and Simmons, we haven’t gotten one yet.”

“Seriously, you guys usual have it up by the time the turkey’s out of the oven on thanksgiving.” Bobbi had known Daisy for years, ever since May signed her up for the Big Sis Little Sis program and they’d been paired together. Never once had December rolled around without a tree already up.

“Busy.” Is the only explanation she gives.

Bobbi waves it off and hurries out to the mall’s main entrance. Set up in a sectioned off portion of the parking lot is a white tent with a small forest spread out around it. The twinkling lights were just starting to become visible as the sun arced towards the hills in the late afternoon hour.

She couldn’t even begin to fathom why Hunter took a job at the Christmas tree farm. She offered him a spot at her shop if he needed extra holiday cash but he was adamantly against the proposition. It worried her, even if she tried not to let it. She thought they were in good place, the best they’d been since the divorce but maybe she was wrong.

She slips into the tent, dunking under the low hanging lights. Hunter is just checking out a family and she waits patiently while he helps them load it into their truck.

“I’m taking ten.” He shouts through the tent before he jogs over to her. “What are you doing out here?”

“Thought you might be cold.” She hands him the last of the to-go cups and his eyes light up.

“Someone’s trying to end up on the nice list.” He pulls off his gloves before he takes the cup and holds it tightly in his hands. She raises an eyebrow at his contented sigh. “I take it all back.” He adds suddenly.

“Take what back?”

“Every time I called you a demonic hell beast, you’re just an angel with an edge.” He takes a long swig of the still piping hot tea and clutches it to his chest. “Why is it so bloody cold all the time?”

“Because you’re working outside in December, you can still have a job at the shop, I just hired Kora but were only going to get busier, oh, you could be the delivery boy.”

“No, no, nope, no,” Hunter shook his head. “We already decided that wasn’t a good idea, but I’ll walk you back.” She frowns, because he decided it wasn’t a good idea. But she doesn’t want to start an argument, so instead she lets him take her hand and they return to the warmth of the building.

They make it up to the second floor and detour so Hunter can ask Fitz again if wants to tickets to the soccer match and Bobbi tries not to visibly cringe at the reminder. She had decided that she wanted to get him a signed jersey for Christmas, something he could wear to the game but it was pricey.

They find Fitz out front fussing with the controller of a remote-control car but not actually driving it.

“Hey Fitz, what are you up to?”

“Hiding, it’s insane in there.” He gestures at the store where a line is six customers deep and both registers are manned. Bobbi can hear the impatient babble of the customers and one man’s loud exclamation.

“Hey! Can I ask where you found that? I looked all over for it.”

“It was the last one on the shelf.” The other guy looks more than a little smug about it but the first one brushes it off.  

“Could I get one of these from the back?” He shouts at the register worker.

She glances at the box and then back at him. “I’m afraid that’s are last one sir, we won’t have another shipment of them till after the holiday.”

“Sucks for them, doesn’t it, should have gotten their shopping out of the way early.”

Bobbi snorts at Hunter’s suggestion. “You’re one to talk, you’ve not bought anyone, anything.”

“Different circumstances, I don’t intend to give anyone anything.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes. She knows that’s not true or he wouldn’t be working outside in the snow.

“Gentleman, gentleman please!” There’s a crash and Bobbi looks up to see that one of the men has pushed the other, sending him into a display. The other man swings back quickly and there is a sickening thump as his fist makes contact with the man’s jaw. There are several screams and many customers run for the door while others gather around the scuffle like they’re in a high school hallway.

There is another crash as they roll into a shelf of miniature sound speakers.

“Security is on their way!” the manager who had been working the other register shouts but neither of them is listening. A mother with a screaming baby is trying to pull her older child out of the way but he only stares wide eyed at the fight until the tussle knocks over another stand that barely misses him.

“Alright, somebody’s going to get hurt.” Bobbi surges forward, grabbing the fellow who’s clearly winning the fight and hauls him off of the other guy. The second guy, instead of standing down immediately flings himself fists first at the pair and Hunter steps between them, narrowly missing getting his own lights knocked out.

“Come on gents this is ridiculous, its Christmas time, I’m sure we can work this out.” Hunter reasons as the man struggles against his hold.

“I think we’ve got a couple of names for the naughty list this year.” Bobbi’s remark doesn’t sit well with the guy she’s holding back. The man in her grasp swings his elbow back at her, trying to get free. He mumbles something crude under his breath and she tightens her grip, bringing him down to his knees. Mall security comes storming in moments later. Hunter’s detainee immediately starts to cooperate, but it takes a couple guys to restrain the man who had started the fight. As soon as he’s been hauled out of there, Bobbi finds a pair of large brown eyes staring up at her.

“Are you okay!” Jemma has rushed over from her post at the gift wrap station. She’s worriedly fussing over her while Hunter laughs it off and the manager tries to thank them both. Fitz and the other employees are attempting to right the disaster that has occurred. It takes several minutes for the pair to pull away. As exciting and adrenaline filled as the last few minutes had been, they both really needed to get back to work.

Despite this Hunter insists on walking her the rest of the way back to the coffee shop. Making her laugh the whole way about how May should fire her security staff and hire the two of them and Daisy who took down a robber the other day.

“I think she would if that was her department.”

“Oh right.” People often forgot that May didn’t run everything at the mall. “Well Love, it’s been a pleasure working with you, but I’ve got to return to the icy hell that is Kringle’s Tree Farm.” He bows dramatically and Bobbi wants to grin at his antics but instead she sighs heavily.

“So how come you won’t work with me?”

“What’s that?”

“You’re freezing your ass off out there hauling around Christmas trees, when you could be here serving up warm coffee and sweets.”

“Better tips?”

“Hunter.”

“Bob, you know what it’s like when we spend too much time together, all we do is fight.”

She shrugs. “I thought we’d been doing alright so far.”

“Yes, but were not spending every waking moment together, trust me we’re one hundred percent compatible, just fifty percent of the time, I don’t want to waste that fifty percent working with you, there’s so much better use of our time.” He steps up close to her, pressing a long kiss to her lips. Bobbi feels a smile stretching across her face. Hunter was an idiot, but most of the time he’s a well-intended idiot. “Alright that’s fair, but tell me next time, communication isn’t exactly our friend either.”

“Fair.” He agrees. “I’ll see you after work?”

“You know it.” She gives him another quick peck before stepping slowly backwards into the coffee shop. “I’m supposed to tell you to set aside a nice tree for Daisy and Simmons.”

“I’ve got commission to make, they’ll get what they get.”

[ofsinnersandsaints]

SOMEWHERE TO BELONG

rating: G (for now) word count total: 16,215 chapter: 3/4

ao3

modern au fluff including but not limited to: college!jester, fjord as the hot neighbor, caduceus and beau as the best roommates and jester fulling expecting to fall in love with the guy next door but not realizing it would feel quite like this

A couple of days had passed since Fjord had kissed Jester, and he felt like a damn high schooler, going over it again and again in his head when he was supposed to be doing half a dozen other things.

It seemed unreal to him he’d only known her for a week.

He should ask her out on a proper date, but the information-or lack there of-on his computer screen, was a stark reminder of why he’d held back in the first place.

The drowning, the ship going down, the shipmates who had died in the storm… they were only part of the nightmares and guilt which weighed on him.

The rest of it was Sabian, and Sabian was a ghost.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t an actual ghost as he was somewhere out there in the world not being held accountable for his part in the sinking of the ship they’d both worked on. Instead, he was a metaphorical ghost who had somehow managed to stay below the radar over the course of the past three years.

He should just suck it up and hire a private investigator, but he hesitated to tell anyone about what he’d lived through. About what he suspected. Because what if he was wrong? What if the water in his lungs and lack of oxygen had made him hallucinate and Sabian hadn’t actually jumped off the ship seconds before it exploded?

The vibrating phone was a welcome distraction from the whirlpool of his thoughts, and the smile when he saw who was calling him was instantaneous.

“Hey, Jester.”

“Hey, Fjord.”

He leaned back in his chair and spun it so he was facing away from the computer. He didn’t want the idea of Jester mixed up in the memory of that day. “What can I do ya for?”

“I was wondering if you could take me to the airport?”

Fjord knew she wasn’t running away or leaving town, but his stomach dropped at the question, imagining for a moment his life without her.

Eight days, he reminded himself, he’d only known her for eight days.

“Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?”

“My mom needs me.”

She sounded like she was trying not to cry, “Of course I’ll drive you. When do you head out?”

“Now,” she answered with a sniffle. “I chartered a plane and it’s fueling up now.”

Chartered a plane, he thought with a mental shake of his head. They had very different lives. “I’ll put my shoes on and be over in a minute.”

“Thanks, Fjord.”

“Anytime,” he promised her and hung up. Fjord grabbed his keys and wallet, put his phone in his pocket and started up his truck. When he pulled into Jester’s driveway she was already outside, a bright pink carry-on sitting on the steps next to her.

She stood up and reached for the bag but Fjord was already getting out of the cab of the truck. “I got it, Jester.”

For a moment he thought she was going to argue but then she nodded. “Thanks.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked as he picked up the suitcase, putting it in the back of the cab of the truck. “Is your mama sick?”

Jester climbed onto the bench seat with a heavy sigh. “She’s okay, she just needs to see me.”

Fjord had eight million questions he wanted to ask but kept them to himself. “I assume chartered planes aren’t at the normal airport?”

“No, but I’ve got directions on my phone.” Her smile was genuine, if a little sad, “I’ll be your navigator.”

He debated with himself for all of a second before reaching across the beat up leather and linking his fingers with hers. She held on tight. “When I was under water, it was so dark I couldn’t see which way was up. But I remembered my mentor, Vandran, told me once that if I ever got disoriented under water to not swim. If you let yourself, you’ll float up in the right direction. There was a huge ass storm going on the surface though, the winds were taller than I’d ever see them and every time I got half a breath I’d be pushed under again.”

The memories were so close to the surface he felt his chest tighten, but he kept his eyes on the road as he drove them to the outskirts of town where the private airfield was. “There was water everywhere, so even when I was breathing air it felt like I was drowning. When I have nightmares, when I’m not completely convinced I’m not underwater I go outside because that night, there weren’t any stars. Just rain and waves. I stare at the stars until I can breathe again.”

At the stoplight he looked over at her to see her watching him with wide eyes. “Why did you tell me that?”

“Secret for a secret,” he told her gently. “If you want to share.”

Her shoulders lowered as if someone had just taken a weight off of them. “I didn’t want to go to college but Mama wanted me to get a degree, so the compromise was I’d go to college, but it would be out of state so I could get some independence. It’s been a couple of years now, but the distance hasn’t gotten any easier for her. Sometimes she gets these… moods, I guess? Like a panic attack. She has to see me or she works herself up. She hyperventilated once and the paramedics were called, she woke up in the hospital terrified.”

“Cause she doesn’t like to leave the house,” he remembered.

Jester nodded, holding their linked hands in her lap, her free hand tracing the tiny scars on his knuckles from years of working on a fishing boat. “The best thing to do is just go see her, and flying is quickest, only a couple of hours each way. After a day or two I can usually come back.”

He squeezed her hand once. “I’m sorry, Jester. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“The drive is more than enough,” she assured him. “Beau and Cad are both in class.”

He pulled down the paved road which would lead to the plane hangar. “If you need someone to pick you up when you come back, call me.”

“You’re a really good guy, Fjord.”

“Not really,” he corrected as he parked. “But you’re worth being a good guy for. I’ll get your suitcase.”

Fjord got out of the truck and got her luggage, walking around the hood of the car to where Jester stood in a t-shirt and a soft looking skirt. “Can I have a hug?”

He smiled at the question, setting the suitcase on the ground, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her hands clung to the back of his shirt as she pressed her cheek into his chest, and he tightened his hold on her, knowing how important an anchor was in a storm.

“Call me when you land? So I know you got there safe?”

She nodded, her face still pressed against the cotton of his shirt. “I’m going to let go of you in a minute, I promise.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “I ain’t in any kind of rush, Jester. You hold on as long as you need.”

She pulled back then, a little glint in her eyes that hinted at the mischief she was capable of. “Be careful what you say, Fjord, I may take you up on it.”

His thumb brushed along the curve of her cheek. “I’m not worried. Promise you’ll call me.”

“I promise,” and she dropped her arms from around him and he kind of missed having her so close. “Thanks again, Fjord.”

“For you? Anytime.”

She kissed him on the cheek then picked up her suitcase and walked towards the plane, the stairs already in place to let her get on.

As he watched, the wind picked up and pulled at her skirts; he thought she looked like something out of movie.

Damn it, he should have kissed her goodbye.

Jested loved her mother more than anything. Marion Lavorre had given her daughter everything, had loved her unconditionally, but as Jester had gotten older what her mother wanted, and what Jester needed, were at odds.

Her mother wanted to keep her close, keep her safe, but Jester wanted to take risks and get lost and learn things the hard way.

The distance had been a blessing for Jester, but she knew it was extremely difficult for her mother, which was why she was willing to drop everything to come home when her mother needed her.

Sitting on the porch, she sketched out an ocean scene as the moon watched from its place in the sky. And as if she’d conjured him with charcoal and paper, her phone lit up with a text message.

It was a picture from Fjord.

The photo was from his side of the yard, looking into hers, and she could see Beau balanced on one leg as Caduceus was focused in his garden, the evening light casting a soft glow on the world and her friends.

He’d sent her a little piece of home.

She called him before she could talk herself out of it. “How did you know exactly what I needed?” she asked before he had the chance to say hello.

“I’m a mind reader,” he teased. “Though I have to admit, there was a little part of me that felt creepy taking a picture of them from my backyard.”

Jester laughed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t do that with anyone else in the neighborhood. They might call the cops on you.”

They were quiet for a moment before Fjord’s voice rumbled through the phone. “Are the skies clear where you’re at?”

“Not a cloud for miles.”

“Here too.”

Same moon, she realized. He was outside, same as her, and they were looking up at the same sky. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Just a little one,” he admitted after a moment. “But it was hot today and the garage is too stuffy to work in right now so I’ve got a beer and a lounge chair.”

“Kool-aid and a sketchbook for me,” she said. “I’m hoping to be back Thursday.”

“Two days,” he said and she liked that he sounded a little despondent at the news.

“Today’s practically over,” she corrected. “And I’ll come back in the afternoon, so it’s only a day.”

He made a small humming noise, “Is your mama doing better?”

“Yeah. She’s been telling me about the autobiography, she’s got some wild stories.”

“I imagine not all of them are stories a daughter wants to hear about her mother.”

Jester laughed, “A few.”

She heard the shifting of movement on his end of the line and then a heavy sigh. “Fuck, Jester. I miss you.”

She laughed again even as her heart grew and thumped heavily in her chest. “Don’t sound too excited about it.”

“I don’t know what to do with it,” he admitted. “Honest to god, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You don’t have to do anything with it,” she assured him even though she had a couple of ideas. Only a few of them were salacious. “And I’m not in any kind of rush. Just tell me if you’re going to come to my party on Saturday.”

“Uh,” he started and she laughed at how obvious he was, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse.

“It’ll be fun,” she assured him. “But if you don’t want to come, I understand.”

“Jester?” a voice called from the behind her. Looking over her shoulder, Jester saw her mother standing a few feet inside the house in a pretty silk robe. “Who are you talking to?”

“A friend,” Jester evaded, turning her attention back to the man on the phone. “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Jessie.”

“Bye, Fjord.”

Jester hung up the phone and shut her sketch book. “Mama, what are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I was talking to my friend,” she evaded. “He’s up at all hours of the night.”

“What kind of friend?” her mom asked, a knowing lilt to her voice.

“A good one,” Jester answered. “One I’m hoping to date.”

“Oh.”

“What are you doing up?” she asked as she got up and walked into the house, shutting the door behind her and locking it.

“I was thirsty, then I heard voices and wanted to see what was going on. Is he a good man?”

Jester remembered what he’d said at the airport, about trying to be one. And only a good man, she thought, would worry about being a good man. “He is.”

“You should bring him home, next time you come back.”

They weren’t anywhere near that place, Jester thought, but she appreciated her mother wanted to meet the man she liked. “I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, I think we should both get some sleep.”

Fjord walked across the front yard to the small party gathering at his neighbor’s house; the guests were mostly people in their early 20s, carefree and laughing.

As a man who was nearing thirty and had the weight of an ocean on his shoulders, he felt wildly out of place.

But Jester had personally asked him to come over, so he could suck it up and spend an hour in her world. And because Beau had insisted on picking Jester up, he hadn’t seen her since he’d dropped her off at the airport a couple days ago.

There were at least three dozen people in the house and spilling into the backyard. The first person he recognized was Beau who moved through the crowd like a rock being thrown into a stream. Everyone moved out of her way.

“You came,” he liked that she didn’t sound surprised or anything. It was just a statement of fact. “Want a beer?”

Fjord looked around the house and could practically feel the hormones in the air. “You got anything stronger?”

Her grin was sharp, but friendly despite it. “You speak my language. Come on back, I’ve got a shit ton of options. You work on that boat some more?”

“I do a little bit every day,” he answered and recognized the song playing from the speakers in another room as something he often played in the garage. “Whose playlist is this?”

“Jester’s.” Beau walked up to the counter and pushed someone out of the way so she could reach for the cups and started pouring ingredients into it. “I’ve been told my taste in music sucks and Caduceus’ makes everyone want to take a nap. Here.”

Fjord looked down at the cup. “What is this?”

“A Punch in the Face,” she told him. “It’s my own creation and it’s pretty fucking good, if I do say so myself.”

He took a hesitant sip and it was good, but it also had enough liquor in it to stop an elephant. “Holy shit.”

“And that’s the punch in the face,” she smiled, obviously proud of herself. “Jester’s in the back. Try not to stare.”

“Huh?”

Beau just patted him on the shoulder and walked away.

Baffled, Fjord walked out of the back door and stood on the porch to look for Jester in the small crowd of people.

It took all of a second to find her and Fjord immediately understood Beau’s warning.

He’d seen her in sweats, sundresses, and a bikini, but there was something about the skin tight dress which whispered sex; dark blue and curve hugging, it matched the color of her hair and dipped low to show an enticing amount of cleavage.

She could have been standing in the middle of the yard naked, and it wouldn’t have been half as sexy.

For a second he couldn’t breathe, then she looked at him and her eyes lit up, he’d have sworn it, and he remembered this feeling from his days on the water. At some point you just realized you were along for the ride and he could either go with it or fight it.

And Jester, with the blue hair and ample curves, was a wave he was happy to ride out.

She made excuses to the man with dark red hair that she’d been talking to and walked over to him. “You made it!”

“I couldn’t come up with an excuse that didn’t sound like bullshit,” he confessed and reached out to hug her. Her arms tightened around his waist for a moment before she pulled back, but she didn’t step out his embrace completely as she looked up at him.

“It’s hard to say you can’t make it when you can see the party from your backyard.” She sniffed the cup Fjord held in his hand and winced. “Good thing you don’t have to drive home.”

“I think Beau’s trying to get me drunk.”

“Probably,” Jester agreed, taking his hand in one of hers. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to a few people.”

She took him back over to the group; the guy she’d been talking to was a little disheveled with a couple weeks’ worth of stubble on his jaw, his shirt was at least two sizes too big and even though he was at a party his backpack was on the ground at his feet. The woman next to him was short, green streaks in her dark hair. Age undetermined.

“Caleb, Nott, this is my neighbor Fjord. He’s a ship-builder. Caleb and Nott were in one of my classes last term.”

Fjord shook each of their hands, “Nice to meet you both.”

“You build ships?” Caleb asked, his voice a lilting accent Fjord didn’t immediately recognize.

“No,” he admitted and tried not to focus on the fact Jester was still holding his hand and that Caleb kept glancing down at them. “Jester’s just being kind, I’m building a boat in my garage. I’m formerly a fisherman.”

“Like on TV?” Nott asked, excitement making her voice raise a few pitches at the end of the question.

“Something like that.”

“Nott is going to be a private investigator.”

Fjord was surprised at the news and tried not to seem too interested in the information. “No shit? Like in the movies?”

“Something like that,” she grinned. “I’m pretty good at it.”

“Nott takes a lot of pictures of people doing it,” Jester added helpfully and Fjord nearly spit out his drink. She looked extremely proud of herself.

“Cheaters pay the bills,” Nott agreed sagely. “And people are into kinky shit.”

“Nott,” Caleb scolded. “Perhaps this is not the right place?”

“Where is the right place?” Nott challenged. “I do other stuff too, background checks, finding biological parents, that kind of thing. It’s never dull.”

“You find people?”

“I do.”

Fjord had a dozen questions he wanted to ask: how long did it usually take? How much did it cost? What if the person didn’t want to be found? But instead of asking them he smiled, “You’re probably not a good person to piss off.”

“I’m really not. No secrets can be hidden from me.” Nott’s smile was sharp and a little devious as she leaned forward. “So, what are your secrets?”

“I sold my soul to a sea god in order to survive a shipwreck,” Fjord deadpanned and Jester laughed, Nott reluctantly smiled and their friend Caleb chuckled.

“Yo! Fjord!” Beau yelled and Fjord turned to see her standing on the porch. “How are you at a beer pong?”

“Better on a boat, but I can hold my own.”

“You’re on my team,” she announced and turned around and walked back into the house.

Fjord watched her, amused, “Does she usually just boss people around?”

“Yes,” Jester answered with a smile. “It’s her way of saying she likes you.”

“Sure it is. I guess I’m playing beer pong.”

Considering the party had been thrown together last minute, it was pretty good party if Jester did say so herself. Between her and her roommates they knew a wide range of people from jocks to gardeners, but they all got along. The alcohol probably helped, she thought wryly as she listened to two people from her history class complain about their professor.

While they debated whether it would be better to TP the professor’s car or glue the doors shut Jester felt a touch on her elbow and before she looked, she knew it was Fjord. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for inviting me.”

“Are you heading out?”

“Yeah.”

Stay, she thought immediately, and wondered at how intense the feeling was. Jester hopped off the table, hoping what she felt didn’t show on her face. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to-“

She shook her head, not letting him finish the sentence. “I insist, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

He smiled at her and nodded. “Who am I to say no to a gentleman?”

“Let me just text Beau,” she picked up her phone and let Beau know where she was going and then dropped the cell in a kitchen drawer. “So she doesn’t bug me with questions.”

“If I was going to murder you, this would be the perfect time.”

“Right after I told her I was leaving the house with you?” she asked with a shake of her head, disappointed. “You’d make a terrible murderer, Fjord.”

“Well, I guess there are worst things to fail at.”

“Good point,” she grabbed his hand because he hadn’t seemed to mind it earlier when she’d done it. She liked the feel of it, his palm and fingers were rough with callouses, warm against her skin. Leading him out the front door, she stepped into the humid night, the stars dim above them.

“Thanks again, for coming tonight.”

“I enjoyed it.”

Jester smiled, bumping her hip against his. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

His mouth curved in a grin. “I like your roommates, and I liked Yasha.”

“Oh!” Jester hadn’t seen Yasha at the house, but the woman was known for sneaking in and out of places. Hopefully she’d still be there when Jester got back. “What did you think of her?”

“That woman could kick my ass.”

He sounded impressed which the proper response to meeting Yasha. “Beau is super into her.”

“I’m not looking to hit on her,” he told her, and there was a careful note to the words, a slight pressure on her hand from his which made Jester’s heart glow behind her ribs.

“Cool.”

They walked in silence and Jester wondered about the front door and what would happen when they got there. If this had been a real date, she’d kiss him at the end of it, but this wasn’t a real date.

He’d just come over to meet her friends, drink, and hang out with her.

But he’d admitting to missing her while she was gone.

Was every relationship this difficult? she wondered, or were they just bad at it? If her mother hadn’t been so protective, maybe she’d have more experience with this kind of thing and she wouldn’t be second guessing herself at every turn.

If, should-of, would-of… they weren’t going to do her a lot of good in the here and now.

“I started your painting this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he looked pleased and a little bashful. “How long does it usually take for you to paint something?”

“Not as long as it takes to build a boat,” she teased as they walked across his yard. “Mostly it depends on the painting. Does it have a lot of detail? Lots of colors? I’d get a lot more done if I didn’t have to go to school.”

“Have you given any more thought to sticking it out?”

“Yeah, I’m going to stay.” He stopped in front of his porch but she went up the steps and turned so she was almost eye to eye with him. “If I dropped out, my mama would want me to come back home and I don’t want to leave.”

Didn’t want to leave her house, her independence, this porch where she could just barely smell the aftershave Fjord must have put on before coming over.

“Are you going to kiss me again, Fjord?”

He wasn’t even a little bit surprised by the question. Jester was the kind of person who took what she wanted, or asked for it as the case may be. And damn him if he hadn’t been considering it the whole walk over.

“I’m thinking about it,” he finally answered.

She tilted her head, blue hair touching her cheek the way he wanted to. “What’s stopping you?”

Fjord sighed and tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m a hell of a mess, Jester. I don’t want to invite all my shit on you.”

Her smile was soft and warm and he thought he could live by it for the rest of his life and the thought terrified him because of how much he wanted it. “I invited myself over, Fjord.”

She took a step down so she was a little bit closer and he felt his stomach drop; it reminded him of when the ship would crest on a wave and dip down suddenly. It was an addicting kind of rush a person never quite got used to.

Jester put one hand on the side of his face and he wondered if maybe she was going to take the matter out of his hands and kiss him herself. Instead she only pressed her lips to his cheek, the touch lingering for a full second and a half before pulling back.

“But I don’t want to push, so just know I’m here whenever you want to find me.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close and knew he was ten kinds of stupid for not kissing her. She felt good against him, she felt right and he felt right, but there was still that dark fear so deeply rooted inside him he didn’t know how to get rid of it.

“You know it’s not you, right, Jester? There’s not a damn thing wrong with you.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders, her fingers brushing the fabric smooth. “There’s plenty wrong with me,” she argued cheerfully. “Just like there’s plenty wrong with you. That shouldn’t stop you from trying to be happy with the things that are right. And this is right, Fjord. You know that, don’t you?”

He loved how certain she was. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure it out.”

“Well, when you get the rest of the way there you know where I am. I should probably get home and make sure the house is still standing. Caleb has been known to start fires when he drinks too much and Beau thinks it’s too cool to try and stop it.”

He smiled, easily picturing it. “Good night, Jester.”

“Good night, Fjord.”

Fjord finally let her go, then watched her walk into the darkness and wondered how many different kinds of stupid one man can be.

Jester couldn’t sleep.

Normally, this wasn’t a problem. Normally, she’d paint or sketch until she could finally pass out, but she felt too restless in her own skin. If she was at her mother’s house she’d go swimming in the big pool out back, but they blowup kiddie pool in her backyard wouldn’t do her much good.

Making a quick decision she grabbed her phone and walked next door, figuring there was a better than good chance Fjord was up as well.

She wouldn’t say they’d been avoiding each other, but ever since Saturday Jester had made a point to give Fjord some space. He’d texted her over the course of the past few days, sending her pictures he’d taken and she had complained to him about finals coming up.

But they hadn’t spent any time alone.

Jester didn’t completely trust herself not to jump him, but at one am there weren’t a lot of options for company.

She knocked on the doorframe, smiling when she saw Fjord pop up from behind the boat. “Hey.”

“Hi, do you mind if I hang out?”

“Not at all. Everything okay?”

“I’m antsy,” she admitted with a shrug. “Couldn’t sleep. You’ve gotten a lot done.”

The boat had more shape to it now, it looked like some kind of seal had been added and the smell in the air was pungent. “You’re going to get high off these fumes, Fjord.”

He grinned. “There’s a good chance I already am. I’ve been at this for a bit.”

“Oh.” She looked around the garage, not sure what to look at it. “If you’re done, I can just-“

“Want to watch a movie?” he asked.

Her gaze swung to him and there was understanding in his eyes, in the softness of his expression. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“Have you seen Princess Bride?”

“Who hasn’t? I’ll make some popcorn, do you mind shutting the door so animals don’t get in?”

She shut the door and then promptly opened the window before following him inside the house. Jester sat on the table as he rummaged through the cabinets and eventually pulled out a box of popcorn, sticking it in the microwave.

“Thirsty?” he asked, reaching into the fridge.

“Sure, if you’ve got-“ she stopped when he pulled out a pitcher of a bright red drink. “You made Kool-Aid?”

She saw a little bit of a blush on his cheeks. “I didn’t know what flavor you liked.”

“I like all the flavors,” she assured him, touched he’d cared enough to not only buy Kool-Aid, but that he’d made it on the off chance she might come by. It was hardly the most romantic thing anyone had ever done, but her poor little heart tripped and fell half in the love with him anyway.

She took the cup he offered and watched as he got himself a soda from the fridge as the microwave beeped. “This is my best talent,” he told her seriously as he opened the door. “I never burn popcorn.”

Jester laughed as he shook the bag and she could hear how many kernels had popped, “That’s the best superpower.”

“It’s handy,” he took his soda and the popcorn and she followed him into the living room. He sat at the end of couch and Jester sat directly next to him, close enough their hips touched. “Will you grab the remote?”

She reached forward and traded the popcorn for the remote control, “My mama calls it a clicker.”

“No offense to your mama, but that’s dumb.”

Jester laughed and rested against him; unable to help the smile as he shifted next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He turned on the tv and then flipped through to a steaming site where he found Princess Bride available.

“How long has it been since you’ve watched this movie?” she asked as she reached into the popcorn bag.

“Couple of years,” he answered as he shifted on the couch to get more comfortable. “I remember rodents of extraordinary size. And of course Inigo Montoya.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes as the movie started, and Jester felt the nervousness begin to ease with the slow breathing of Fjord next to her, his arm around her. She felt safe.

“Thanks for letting me hang out, Fjord.”

“Yeah, sitting with a beautiful woman in the middle of the night watching a movie and eating popcorn is a huge hassle.”

She laughed and snuggled closer to him; he may not be ready for the dating or whatever, but he seemed to be okay with this, so for now she’d take it. After all, it couldn’t hurt to show them how good they’d be together, could it?

“Did something in particular happen?” he asked quietly.

“No,” she sighed, keeping her eyes on the tv. “I think my brain is just too full.”

“I get that. If you need anything else, you’ll let me know?”

She shifted so she could look at him, meeting his eyes in the flickering light from the television. “Right now, this is all I need.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his lips quirking in a little smile. “I’m starting to think the same.”

Jester smiled, understanding what he was saying. She curled her legs underneath her, wrapping her own arms around his middle so she could rest against him. “This is my favorite movie all time.”

She felt the rumble of his laughter in his chest. “I’m not even a little bit surprised.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“Independence Day,” he answered without hesitating.

“I never would have guessed that.”

Jester felt him shrug. “How can you go wrong with Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum?”

“Fair point. We can watch that movie next.”

“You’re not going to want to go home?” he asked, a little bit surprised.

“I’m good here. Unless you want to go to bed after this movie’s done.”

“Nah, I can sleep later.”

“I want you to know this doesn’t count as a date.”

Fjord laughed, big and loud and it made Jester smile. “Duly noted.”

She moved again so she could look at him. “When we go on a date, I expect you to pick me up-"

"I'm a good 'ole boy," he reminded her, soundly a little offended. "Of course I'd pick a lady up at her door."

She smiled and accept the point with a nod, but continued talking as if he hadn't interrupted her. "And take me out to a place with really good food, and I expect dessert afterwards.”

“Dessert?” he asked, his voice low and all kinds of suggestive.

It was Jester’s turn to blush, but she was certain he wouldn’t be able to see in the dark room. “Ice cream,” she clarified, forcing herself not to look away. “Cake. Pie. I’d settle for really good chocolate. Then sex.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying her. “It’s good to know you have your priorities in order.”

“Sweets always come before sex,” she told him earnestly. “Now, no more talking, I’m trying to watch a movie.”

Fjord snorted and took the popcorn bag from her. “I’ll start it over so you can enjoy it properly.”

“You really get me,” she grinned and settled in to spend the rest of the night with the guy she was pretty sure she was going to marry someday.

If only he would get around to kissing her again.

[morphituu]

Bell Peppers Ch. 17 (Final)

“Endlessly”

Archive of Our Own: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17

tumblr: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15- 16 - 17

She watched him over the tops of her glasses, unmoving, and staring critically at it placed on the countertop beside where she perched on the edge of his tub. Her eyes moved around, her ankles shifting over one another, but he still didn’t move, even when she cleared her throat.

“You haven’t blinked in like a minute,” she stated, and his eyes finally shot to her.

“It’s only been a minute?” he asked, shoulders slumping. She nodded, glancing down at her phones timer.

His hands pulled down his face with a low groan, sliding down the wall until he landed on the tile floor.

“Longest three minutes of your life, huh?” she simpered, seemingly unconcerned. He nodded, his head bouncing back against the wall. “It’s gonna be negative, don’t worry,”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, I just wanna know,”

“Minute and a half left,” she sighed, flipping her phone in her hands.

Nick looked over her, picturing a distended belly beneath her T-shirt and popped shorts, wondering how off balance she’d be what with her short stature. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, smothering the thought. Since that morning, he’d let his imagination get the better of him, all the way to the drug store to pick up the pregnancy test then all the way home, and now here, waiting endlessly for it to finish.

“Done,” she said, quickly grabbing for the test.

He rushed to her side clumsily, and they both stared down at the negative test.

“Told you,” she murmured, obviously deflated and handing it to him. He studied it closely, turning it this way and that, thinking maybe it could’ve been a trick of the light. “My only chance came and went,” she added, and he looked at her.

“You don’t know that,” he tried, tossing the used test in the trash.

“Feels like it,” she mumbled, but Nick caught her arm when she moved to walk out, and brought her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek in attempt at eradicating the visible frown on her face.

“It’ll happen, baby,” he assured, squeezing her until she returned the gesture.

“Kinda thought it would’ve been inevitable with how much we did it this week,” she said into his chest. “All that mess’a blood for nothing,”

He chuckled. “Still worth it,”

“Gonna start coming after me every time I’m on my period now?”

Impishly he nibbled her jaw. Another forceful kiss under the partly healed bruise on her face, and he let her go, smacking her ass before walking out. “Okay let’s eat now,”

Callie followed him out sluggishly, bumping into him when they wandered into the kitchen. With little energy, she went about throwing a breakfast together, often slumping against Nick when he stepped in to help. He’d chuckle and curl an arm around her neck, dragging her around as they shuffled between stovetop and fridge, and even took both their plates packed with chorizo con huevos and tortillas, his elbow still hooked around her neck as he pulled her over to his new table.

“When’s your job interview?” he asked, stuffing a hearty bite into his mouth.

“Tuesday,” she said around a mouthful of food, opening a cold can of soda. “I’m nervous as fuck,”

“You’re gonna own that shit. Do those big number equations in your head and I bet they’ll hire you on the spot,” he grinned.

“Computers do everything at banks now- they wouldn’t need my hidden talent,”

“But how often do they have a human computer that can double check their work?” he tried, bumping his knee against hers. She smiled, smacking his arm lightly.

“I need to go buy some cover-up. Can’t go in with a black eye,”

Nick nodded, sucking his teeth, and now expertly pinching a bite of the chorizo with his tortilla. She was perking up a bit now, like he knew she would when she found the Dr. Pepper he’d stashed for her in the fridge, but sensed unloading his next big surprise might send her reeling into panic.

“So you said earlier that Rosie canceled tomorrow?” Nick asked, and Callie rolled her eyes.

“I knew she wasn’t gonna go through with it- I’m getting my money back for those tickets,”

Nick swallowed his bite. “Keep the day open then,”

Her brow kicked up. “Why?”

“My parents wanna come over,”

Outwardly, she remained calm, but inside he knew she was frantic- like a person caught in a house on fire. She looked at her food, poking it absentmindedly with her tortilla. “So I need to buy cover-up today,”

“You don’t have to,” he told her. “They know what happened,”

“With me?”

“Everything. They’ve been asking how you’re doing-”

“Wait,” she interrupted. “Even the miscarriage?”

“I told them,” he stated, and she retracted, leaning back in her chair.

“You said you wouldn’t,”

“I couldn’t lie about it. Felt like it’d be a slap in the face to you- like it’d be disregarding something you battled through,” he explained.

She twisted her thumb in her other palm nervously. “How’d they take it?”

“They were pissed. They’ve been on my ass about dying without grandkids for years so when they heard it, they were about as angry as you. And they’re also very sorry,” he relayed, playing with her lithe fingers. “My mom asks about you a lot,”

Callie grinned. “Grandma by nature?”

He nodded. “Little ball of love like you,”

With a steadying breath and her shoulders rolling away some of the nervousness, she seemed to be capable of this next step in their relationship that admittedly should’ve happened months ago. She moved her hair from her cheeks, her fringe pinned back by her glasses still, and carefully poked her healing cheek.

“Doesn’t look too bad?” she asked, and he shook his head, flashing a goofy grin.

“You’re pretty no matter what,”

Another slap on his arm, and she spun her soda between her palms. “What’re they like?”

Nick leaned back in his chair now, exhaling as he chewed. “Mom comes off as mean at first, but she’s just a quiet observer, I think is the best way to put it. Really hard worker, never really takes days off. Can be super blunt, but crack her open and she’s really the best mom. Put up with all my shit and never complained,” he told her with a small smirk.

It warmed Callie’s heart to see him speak so affectionately of his mom; clearly he’d been raised right. “And your dad?”

He rolled his eyes. “Smart- like really smart, but never short for some kind of raunchy joke,” Nick explained. “But he’s a gentle giant. The kind of person who can walk up to anyone from any walk of life and start a conversation,”

“You sound more like your mom than your dad,” she simpered, and he nodded in agreeance.

“Got my mom’s height, too,” he grumbled.

“You’re still my big guy,” she toyed, reaching to playfully trace the shell of his ear. It twitched, his cheeks turning a darker shade as he gently slap her hand away. “So I suppose we should stop by the store when we’re out today,”

“Yeah, after we go to the station though,” he stuffed the last bite in his mouth. “Don’t know how long it’ll take,”

“How convincing did you sound when your captain called?”

“There’s no doubt in my mind that he has some suspicions about the whole thing. I genuinely forgot to act surprised when he called- in my head I was like ‘yeah I know he got the shit beat out of him,” Nick snickered, carrying their plates to the kitchen.

“Did they tell you where he is now?” She followed him in.

“Nah, we should get those details about that today,”

“But we won’t have to actually see him right?”

“No, not at all. They only want our statements,” he reassured, holding her face when she looked here and there nervously. “There’s no chance he could show up after those blows you landed,”

She snorted softly, her head dropped and walking into his chest for a hug. Nothing else besides the anxiousness he could smell coming out of her pores showed her apprehension, and it started to affect him. He knew they’d be in separate rooms for their questioning- how would she handle it without him?

“Should we go and get this over with then? Make it a date afterwards?” he asked against her hair, and kissed her lips when she looked up at him with a quick nod. “Noodles for lunch?”

“Oh fuck yeah.” She grinned, another kiss, and the two of them moved to his room.

It was decided that it was best for Callie to wear a long sleeve over her blood stained cast, despite their best efforts to wash it out with hydrogen peroxide. It bothered her some- every time she reached for something or twisted her arm, she had to pull it back down, and that in itself could raise suspicions.

But with them both bundled and clad in black to avoid any extra attention drawn to them, Callie held Nick’s hand in her lap nervously as he drove, often looking at her from behind his dark Clubmasters to find her knee bouncing or adjusting her glasses nervously, repeatedly cleaning the lenses. All the way to the station, and when they stood beside his truck after parking, he reassured she’d be okay and there was no part of Gerrald she’d have to face that day.

She clung to him in a fleeting hug before finally inhaling deeply and grabbing his hand tightly as he lead her to the front, her shield against the bad that inevitably awaited inside.

Her face remained angled down while her eyes did the back and forth, recognizing faces she’d seen sneer or glare before. But now people looked in confused awe, probably not having expected to see the Orc no one liked who was beaten within an inch of his life walking through the front lobby, a fiercer glare across his scarred features to ward anyone off.

It occurred to Callie that looking so weak and beaten beside him would only draw more assumptions, so she lifted her chin, her hand sliding up his arm to hold securely as they approached the front desk.

“Jakoby,” the woman in uniform acknowledged, her platinum blonde locks pulled back into a sleek bun.

“Here for Heig,” he only answered, hanging his sunglasses over his collar. I’m here to talk to no one but Heig, was what his tone really said though, and Callie squeezed his arm, enormously proud of her Orc.

The tall woman, McCann, only nodded absently as she moved away, leaving the couple at the counter to wait. A few more were still there, looking on how they figured was covertly, but Nick only flashed a passing glance with a cocked brow, unbothered as long as he didn’t hear them utter any foul words in regards to Callie.

“You alright?” she asked lowly, and he nodded, still doing once overs of the area.

“Forgot how welcoming this place is,” he mumbled, and she snickered.

“Jakoby,”

They both turned, and there was Heig, followed by investigators in bland suits, files and folders in hand. That was when Callie tensed beside him, and he rubbed her back, silently comforting her.

“Sir,”

“Gonzales here will accompany Miss Flores for her statement and I with you and Amar,” Heig instructed, stepping aside so the Hispanic detective with lines beside his eyes from smiling could greet her.

“Miss Flores, pleasure to meet you,” he introduced himself calmly, clasping his other hand over hers when he shook. Callie only nodded, and Nick kissed her head before she followed Gonzales to one of the private rooms, twisting her palm around her thumb nervously. Nick wanted to run after her, but knew she’d be okay. It would most likely end in an anxious night at home after their visit, but Callie was strong. She could handle this on her own, he told himself.

It all started from the beginning. Back to when Nick and Gerrald had any sort of contact, even passing comments when his attacker had first joined the force. There was no specific time they could pinpoint when the harassment turned from bothersome to hostile, but from the statement Callie gave them, he could’ve been planning this for years.

Judging by charges on Gerrald’s hidden credit cards from his wife, he’d been a frequenter of Two Hands and from Jakes willingness to provide details and documents, he’d booked private dances from Callie at least once a week when she was still a regular working there, which was 4 years ago. Booths were dark, and dancers kept their distance. All this time she’d performed for him, unknowing of the obsession he held for her. Years and years, building a covet unbeknownst to everyone; a dangerous, sick fascination verified by kept receipts upon receipts of his visits to her club. Who knows how many times he could’ve followed her home or lingered nearby, unnoticed.

The catalyst was Callie’s visit to the precinct that first time, and Nick could remember his face perfectly.

What he thought was a sour, defeated glare was actually, probably, one of glaring realization that by some astral and amazing coincidence, Nick had scored the girl he so desired. Gerrald couldn’t stand seeing his favorite dancer in the arms of the Orc he despised, and it sent him over.

Verified, and to Nick’s dismay, Gerrald had started to lash out at his wife and children. Screaming, breaking things, disappearing for days at a time and always with a chunk of their money withdrawn from the bank. Money that had been given to the Belye Volki in return for their muscle. The same muscle that had been used to attempt Nick’s murder. As long as money kept rolling in with the aid of his police connections, the rival Orcs gladly sent their biggest.

Gerrald only showed his face when his chance at getting his hands on Callie presented itself, resulting in her injuries and the death of their albeit very young fetus. But that brought a new edge to the charges they were pressing: manslaughter on top of attempted, and assault, not to mention breaking and entering and the class 2 felony he faced for stealing guns from the station.

By then, it had all come together. The long obsession, the careful planning, and the attacks. Hours later, and Callie and Nick had given every detail they could recall, but admittedly and horribly given their best shocked response when news ‘broke’ that Gerrald had been the victim of a grizzly attack, by unknown assailants, of course.

Heig, judging by the way he studied Nick and had questioned any involvement he might’ve had with Fogteeth, obviously had suspicions when the Orc denied having any knowledge of Gerrald’s deadly attack, but couldn’t withhold commenting on his delight knowing he got what was coming.

But it was all written, and recorded, and with a final signature, Nick rose to scope out Callie when he was told they’d be in shortly to discuss further details.

She was also finished by the time he found her, and she visibly relaxed when she turned to see him walking in, kissing her head and then forehead as he sat beside her. Any little boosts he could give, he would.

“If I’d known we were gonna be here for 2 hours I would’ve taken them up on that drink offer,”

“Don’t- the sodas here are like 2 years old,” he teased, eliciting a giggle from her. “You doing okay?” he asked.

“Um… yeah. I don’t know how to handle knowing he’s been around for so long and I didn’t know, but I’m generally okay. They didn’t tell me where he is now, though,”

“They will when they come back in,”

“Are they compiling evidence?” she asked.

“At the copying machine actually,”

“Wait what?”

The door opened behind him, and Heig along with the three dressed investigators came in, all either sitting or standing on the other side of the table and handing over their own packets.

“These are copies of your statements and the case number attached,” Heig explained, and Nick bumped her knee with his. “Jakoby you know what happens next,”

“Yes sir,” Nick nodded, thumbing through the pages.

“But you don’t,” he looked at Callie, lacing his fingers together before him. “Both of your statements with additional statements and evidence will be sent off to a prosecutor's office and once they review it, it’ll be determined whether or not there’s sufficient enough evidence to send off to a judge for an arrest warrant,”

“How long does that take?” Callie asked.

“About 3 days,” Nick answered, and she glanced at him before looking back at Heig.

“And Gerrald? Where is he?” she pressed, tensing.

“Hospital. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon,”

“Give me a number,” Callie demanded, and Heig sighed.

“I can’t release that information to you-”

“And what if he gets out and isn’t charged with anything?” she lashed out, panic rising in her blood.

“He will be,” Heig maintained, and Callie reclined some, having not realized she was on the verge of standing. “I can’t say how it’ll hold up in court or when that could happen, but this is more than enough,” he explained, and Nick was a bit surprised. From all people, his racist-ass Captain seemed more or less in Nick’s favor of the situation.

“So go home and wait for the call. And I expect to see your ass here on Tuesday without a doctors note.” Heig pointed at Nick, and he nodded, fighting back an aggravated sigh.

Nick stood before Callie did, grabbing the reports and ushering her out of the office, both eager to be done with this visit.

“I really thought he wasn’t gonna be an asshole this time,” Callie said through the corner of her mouth, and Nick snorted.

“Surprised he didn’t slap cuffs on me for being the victim,” Nick came back, Callie now snorting. “Lunch now?”

“Yes and then we can walk it off at the store.”

He was pulling his sunglasses from his shirt when his line of vision met another Orc, clad in the infamous 79 and standing with a couple others at the front, speaking with one of the receptionists. Ernie- he’d been on Nick and Callie’s patrol team quite a few times. A quiet Orc, never one to really tag along in the jokes they’d made when Nick was in the thick of his heat.

It was natural now to raise his arm and bump his forearm with other Fogteeth, nodding at one another before they went back to their business.

The sparse cops around the lobby watched, confused, their eyes lingering as Nick walked with Callie under his arm. It would’ve come out eventually, but until they had any hard evidence, no one could persecute Nick for being Fogteeth.

↠

Her hands skipped over the clearance items, snatching a bottle of bouillon. They shuffled mostly, already exhausted from navigating a supercenter earlier that day and stuffed from pho, and often either of them would stop and stand with a hard exhale, and arms hung, ready to sit down and succumb to the food coma.

“What if he wanders out and attacks us in a delusional state?” Callie asked, waiting beside Nick at the meat deli with a basket hung on her arm. “I’ve heard that when people aren’t completely conscious that they’re stronger,”

“He looked like hamburger when we left,” Nick intoned, critically eyeing the choices before him before pointing to a pile of thick steaks, asking for 2 pounds. She hmph-d, chewing her inner lip.

“What if there’s still other Orcs he hired?” she whispered, and he dropped the bag of meat into the basket.

“They won’t do anything without pay,” Nick pulled her along, tossing in spices she didn’t recognize and a few packs of spiral noodles, trading the heavying basket for a long baguette. “Volki aren’t the most efficient but they’re never ones to make themselves known. They know they’re compromised and if anything, Gerrald will be their target for the exposure, not us,”

She pursed her lips, following sluggishly until he had his arm around her waist, tugging her along.

“Three days,” she scoffed.

“And then it’s gonna be off to a judge, and everyday that passes we’re safer, so calm down, okay? Nothing else can happen,” he implored, bumping her chin with his knuckles.

“Am I annoying you?”

“No but you’re tormenting yourself. We did everything we can and that fucker very well might never walk again. You saw how crooked his legs are, and baby,” he pulled her a little closer. “His jaw was barely hanging on when you were done with him,”

She fought the little smirk, hitting his firm chest. “I wasn’t exactly done with him,”

He cackled and kissed her cheek, keeping her in his hold as they wound up and down the isles of the supermarket, grabbing items for the dinner the following day and snacks. It was nice to return to some kind of normality, but a heavy thought saddled Callie’s mind despite the wide smile splayed across her face when they’d whisper jokes or pick at one another.

Nick would return to work, healed, and Callie would return home. If anything, they’d still spend most of their time together, but why did it feel like she would never see him again? Had she grown so comfortable at his house, in his company all day and night? How lonely would her bed feel without him there? Even when she was sleeping on his couch, he was so close. Could she ask to spend the night as often- was he looking forward to having his own space back?

She shook the intrusive thoughts. All that would change is returning to everyday life, hopefully with a new job under her belt.

“What exactly are you making for tomorrow?” she asked, peering into the basket after he grabbed two thick stalks of leeks.

“S’like a creamy, meaty pasta dish. Orc staple,” he grinned.

“How come you’ve never made it for me? Huh?” she poked her elbow into his side.

“Cause you don’t like these,” he retorted, grabbing a few fat cap mushrooms. She rambled out disgusted, blubbering mumbles as her hands drew in, veering a few steps away as he tried to hand them to her playfully. He went about picking the more favorable ones as she wandered on, her hands ghosting over veggies.

When her touch slid across firm peppers, she grinned, turning to find him pulling a bag from the spinner.

“You know, I’m still waiting on my truck load of bell peppers,” she pressed, dropping one of each into the bag.

He frowned with his brows kicked up. “Stop by Costco and fill the bed up,” he said smartly, earning a light smack on his arm. “Need more time,”

“More than a year?” she asked, and he blinked.

“It’s been almost a year already?”

“10 months in a couple weeks,”

He followed as she moved backwards, flicking her head to toss aside her fringe that was in need of a trim. He couldn’t see her eyes as well anymore. But watching her move away brought him back to a humid night in the dead middle of summer, and her once long hair whipping around her freckled cheeks as the waves crashed below them at the Santa Monica pier, the glimmer in her brilliant eyes lighting up the night.

“Good thing I have you before I turn my back on the world,”

Callie closed the gap between them, and he had her sides just as she’d stretched to kiss him. “Always.” she devoted softly, kissing him again.

10 months from then to now, and nothing in his unwavering intensity for her had lessened or changed, and through it all, she’d remained at his side, even when the world had seemed to tear them apart.

Nick was gazing at her, he knew it, but he couldn’t help the incredible blessing he felt washing over him. How had he been so lucky to land Callie?

“Couple more months and I can ask you to move in,” he said softly.

Her heart thundered, and she suppressed a wide, relieved smile. “I still have 8 months left on my lease,”

“I’ll ask again in 8 months then,” he caught up to her, holding her tight to his side. “Until then I’ll fill our garden with bell peppers,”

“A lifetime's worth,” she grinned, and met him halfway for a kiss.

“Only if you stick around that long,” he kissed quickly against her temple.

“My god just propose already,” she toyed dramatically, and he tugged on a lock of her hair to silence her, but only evoked a string of giggles. “Okay let’s go home, I want out of this bra,” she grunted, wiggling her arms against her chest. “Bandage is itchy as hell.”

They didn’t leave without a six-pack of Modelo’s; it was Callie’s turn to choose the ale, but only smirked when Nick groaned. They ambled through the long check-out lines they never could seem to avoid, bumping each other back and forth lazily with the basket in Nick’s grasp. The cashier looked at Callie sympathetically when she moved her glasses down to count her change and hand it to him, but Nick just scoffed. No longer did the need to prove himself alarm in his heart. He was done trying to be friends with a world no one wanted him a part of.

But accepting that was easier. Why did he need the thrill of a nod from a stranger instead of a glare if he had Callie, and Ward, even a few friends by his side? Could passing hello’s from strangers like he wasn’t branded a freak ever match up to what he had in front of him?

He watched Callie, chatting idly with an older woman bagging her items beside her, a small smile curling her full lips.

Nearly 10 months of bliss, and fighting, and misery and blood… but such a deep, and endless love.

Next 100 years would be easy.

Right?

↠

“I’m so full,” Nick exclaimed, his head craned back as he waddled from the kitchen with Callie behind him, at last pulling the loose shirt off her body to give the sore bite under her breast some time to breathe.

“Not in the mood for desert?” she said against his skin, her arms thrown around his waist. He chuckled as they made it to his bed before he spun and threw her against the mattress, crawling after her.

Callie pulled him down with a smile, peppering his face with sweet kisses as he grunted and shifted over her before finally flopping on his side.

“Too full,” he groaned, but caressed her thigh when she rolled, holding her cinched waist.

“Why did you let me eat so much?” she groused, and he snorted.

“I can’t be held responsible for that,”

“Cause you were stuffing your face too,” she giggled, shrieking when he dug his fingers into her ribs. He let up quickly knowing if he watched her uncovered boobs jiggle around too much he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from finding his way in. “You bastard,” she said sleepily, and sighed when he massaged her hip, moving down her thigh and back up.

The bruises on her stomach were finally improving, but that meant darkening before they’d eventually fade. He traced the edges of them around her belly button, catching the length of her scar on his journey, and folding his hand to trace circles with his knuckles against the spot a bump would’ve started to show if she’d still been pregnant.

Nick pulled his hand back.

To anyone else, there was so much wrong with her. Cuts, bruises, a cast- yet she seemed so unfazed by it all. It seemed to only hold her thoughts hostage when she’d catch sight of her flat stomach in the mirror, or when she was washing her face, her touch lingering over the gash on her lip or temple. Not to mention the considerable worsening of her vision; she could hardly text now without her arms outstretched.

The soft graze of fingertips against her chin cracked her eyes, and she gave him a lopsided grin with her face pressed into the sheet, her brows twitching in discomfort when the gash on her lip stung. He traced her bruised jaw, endearment stirring the warmth in his heart when she held his knuckles against her lips, kissing softly.

Callie pulled his hand under her chin, the fingers of her casted hand lacing awkwardly with his as she scooted closer across the mattress.

Their foreheads touched, and his hand slid across her cheek to push her hair away.

She held his hands there, sighing in content when his thumbs caressed under her eyes, featherlight over the blemish.

“This is nice,” she whispered, the two lost amongst the blankets scattered about their bodies.

“Mhm,” he hummed. His heart fluttered, watching her blink into focus on him, pulling his thumb to kiss his palm. “You’re so beautiful,”

“Your face looks better than mine,” she rasped, burying her face farther into his hand.

He shook his head, wiggling so they were up against one another. “You’re always so beautiful,”

“Shut uuup,” she whined, hiding her face.

“Nah lemme look at you,”

“That’s not creepy at all,” she rolled onto her other side, but he scooted over, pulling her back against his chest and smooching her shoulder.

“I’m imagining what our kids would look like,”

She paused, and for a split second he thought he’d over-stepped, but she shimmied onto her back, looking up at him. “I think about it all the time,”

“Yeah?” he asked, resting on his elbow. She nodded.

“I wonder who’s nose it would’ve had, or if it would’ve looked more human than Orc, but I’m pretty sure it would’ve had your eyes,” she explained. “And your ears… probably your nose too- I think they would’ve looked nothing like me, honestly,”

“A boy would’ve looked like you,”

“That means you’d make pretty girls,” she mumbled, and then her brows curved up. “Oh my god can you imagine having little daughters chasing after you? Calling you daddy?”

“Okay stop,” he whined, dropping his face against her chest. Now she pulled him in tightly, caressing the back of his head as he embraced her. He stared down at the fresh bite, tempted to pull his touch over it but knew it must’ve been tender as hell.

“Nick, what if I can’t ever give you a baby?” she asked suddenly.

“Don’t go there,”

“I’m serious-”

“Don’t,” he leaned over her, clapping a hand over her mouth, her brows furrowing slightly. “Don’t do that to yourself. It’ll happen but even if it never does that doesn’t mean I’d be less inclined to follow you wherever you go the rest of my life,”

She mumbled something unintelligible, but still he nodded, removing his hand. “Yes, we can adopt 10 pitbulls if it doesn’t work out,” he assured, and despite a gloss filming over her eyes, she grinned, holding his face.

“You’re so perfect,”

“Oh stop,” he kissed her, moaning when she curled around his neck. “Wait,”

She waited, one of her thighs already having slid between his.

He thought over his words before speaking. “I don’t want to actively… try, until we know he’s behind bars,”

“Oh- duh, Jesus I thought you were gonna drop a bomb in my lap,” she exhaled, moving her hair from her face.

Another kiss, and he was sitting up on his knees, parting her legs until he found his place between them. She turned boneless in his hold, her body arching deliciously as he pulled from underneath her, bringing her chest carefully against his open mouth.

“Isn’t this actively trying?” she breathed, rubbing his shoulders as he swirled his tongue around a standing nipple.

“Think of it as not not trying,” he said quickly, rocking forward to catch her lips in another lock. “Is that okay?”

She nodded eagerly, yanking him over her, her hips raising to meet his in a firm rut. He chuffed against her jaw, giving into a few leisure thrusts with her body raised like that. “It’s gonna happen, Cal,” he paused, holding her jaw gently. “I’m gonna give you a kid one day.”

“I’m holding you to it.” she grinned, and exclaimed when he rolled, admiring her body as she moved above him.

She’d gone back and forth between the kitchen and table at least 5 times since he’d been standing there for no more than 3 minutes, and he suspected it’d keep happening until he resorted tying her to a chair.

Callie was at the table, poking the tableware into neater arrangements, glancing nervously at him and flashing her best ‘don’t-worry-I-won’t-have-panic-attack-in-front-of-your-parents-but-I’ll-have-five-beforehand’ smile. And here she came, back into the kitchen to peer over his arm and down at the simmering pan.

“I keep stopping myself from telling you it looks done cause I have no idea how to cook this,” she rattled, leaning her butt against the countertop to steal some sips from his beer, most likely. Hers had been thrown back hours ago, when she was only a fraction of the nerves she was now.

“Give it about 10 more minutes,” he nodded, setting the spoon beside the pan. “But you need to calm down. They’re gonna think you’re high on something with how fast you’re moving,”

“Pfft I wish I was high at this point,” she groaned, pushing her hands back through her hair. “I don’t even know why I’m so nervous, it’s not like I’m guilty of something,”

“Yeah they’d smell that,” he joked, and she looked at him, horror paling her face.

“Oh my god they’re gonna smell that we fucked last night!” She cried, holding her own cheeks. “They’re gonna know I was upside down!”

He shrugged indifferently, weighing his hands. “You were more folded than anything-“

“They’re gonna think I’m a skank for having sex after just losing a baby,” she complained into her palms, and Nick chuffed.

“See now you’re just making bad assumptions,”

Callie looked up at him, and frowned, dropping her gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,”

“It’s fine. But you seriously need to calm down. I can’t keep giving you beer,” he grinned, opening his arms for a tight hug. Callie rushed into him fast enough that he almost lost balance, but with a good squeeze, she was already calming and reaching under his hold to pick up the spoon and stir the creamy food.

A round of solid knocks on his door had her spinning in his arms, and he squeezed her shoulders with a kiss to her cheek. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She followed slowly as he walked to the front door, opening it calmly after shooting her an encouraging, goofy grin.

“Hey Ma,” he said happily.

“Yah, ‘hey Ma’ like you invite us over enough to act all non-chalan,” she stepped inside, the colorful head wrap fanning around her shoulders like silky hair pairing beautifully with the burgundy sweater she wore. Her accent was definite and Callie was surprised she was donning a Russian one at that. She smacked his shoulder when he opened his arms to hug her, so he pouted, his ears twitching, but nevertheless she hugged her son securely. “How’re you feeling, ukmall?”

“It’s nonchalant- I’m better. Hi dad,” Nick unwound from his concerned mother to quickly hug his dad, who from a fleeting, previous glance before, was much taller than Nick. Callie stiffened when his head turned right towards her, looking at her through glasses similar to Nick’s Clubmasters.

No wonder he liked those so much…

“Hello there,” he also had an accent, but not nearly as thick as his mothers. He moved past Nick whose mouth opened to protest, but it was too late. “I’m Oleg, I’m assuming you’re Callie,” Oleg grabbed her hand to shake gently, clasping his other over their connected palms, and she had to remind herself to shake back as she literally looked up at him.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you-,”

“Come, come meet Nick’s mother,” he gently pulled her along with a wide hand on her back. Nick shrugged as she passed, a playful frown on his face.

“This is Dinara-”

“I can introduce my’own, Oleg,” Dinara snapped, but he only smiled sheepishly, his impressive tusks flashing. Her bright golden eyes softened when flickering back to Callie, and she took Callie’s hand from her husbands, simply cradling it. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Calista,”

“I’m so happy to meet you too,” Callie replied sweetly, observing the sudden shift from ferocity to reserved concern.

“After months and months apparently,” Dinara turned on her son, motioning her hand in anger in his direction.

“Ma come on,” Nick groaned, head cocking and eyes rolling. Oleg snickered, and Nick elbowed him, sparking a playful glare-off between them.

“Think she was gonna eat her alive like the other ones, ah?” his dad teased, and Callie’s brow cocked.

“Other… ones?” she asked hesitantly.

“You make me sound like a monster,” Dinara hissed.

“He said it!” Nick defended.

“It’s okay, human doesn’t taste that good,” Oleg said lowly as he passed, but winced and exclaimed when Dinara smacked the back of his head. “Hispanic might not be as bland though-”

“DAD,” Nick hollered, stepping towards Callie who was biting back a wide smile with her fingertips against her lips as she watched his parents move into his house, and how Dinara chewed him out quietly in Orkish, but he was only a tower of laughter as he lovingly held his wife's shoulders.

“That’s them,” Nick muttered.

“I expected different from what you told me.” she grinned.

“I told you exactly what to expect.” he shrugged, motioning to follow him into the kitchen.

“You’re lucky he’s calm now. When he was a child? Couldn’t keep him still. He’d climb trees and run into traffic,” Dinara recounted, her hands animated and motioning as she recounted old stories of Nick’s younger days.

“And he would fight other kids! He was a little animal,” Oleg said around a mouthful of food.

“Okay you said I was 4 when that happened,” Nick tried defending himself, his knife pointed at Oleg.

“4, 16- what’s the difference?” his dad grinned. “Couldn’t handle another demon like him. One and done,”

Callie chuckled. “Where’d all that feistiness go?” she asked, pushing him a little.

“Left it behind in my twenties,” Nick mumbled, chuffing when Callie rubbed his arm.

“Ai, mi viejo,” she cooed, but he pushed her back, scooping his food into a bite.

“What’s that?” Dinara asked.

“My old man,” Callie answered, earning a flat glare from Nick and a booming laugh from Oleg.

“What’re you laughing at, you fossil?” Dinara defended him, and Oleg’s face scowled some.

“I’m still in good shape for 77- Callie would agree,” he retorted, puffing his chest and squaring his shoulders.

“Really? 77?” Callie asked, eyes wide in amazement. His parents both nodded, Oleg sitting up proudly.

“Wanna know something interesting though?” Oleg asked, and Nick raised his fork the same time Dinara flicked his hand.

“Oleg-”

“Orcs perform 20 years younger in bed. He should still be going like he’s in his twenties, ah? Smell it in here like the 70’s,” Oleg harassed mercilessly, smiling, warding off Dinara’s attacks as he tormented his son who had his face buried in his palms. Callie followed suit, hiding, but giggling madly. She knew they’d know how active their sex life was, but didn’t expect to be called out so harshly.

“Can we be done with the embarrassing stories?” Nick whined, finally uncovering his flushed face and throwing back the rest of his beer.

“Ahh, you have no humor, boy,” Oleg groused, evoking an argument between the two that Dinara wanted nothing to do with, so she turned to Callie.

“Callie,” she said, and Cal looked at her, lowering her drink. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m- I’m good,” she grinned.

“I mean how are you feeling?” she asked again, and for the first time that night, she could feel her looking at the bruises coating her features instead of Callie as a whole, and assumed she was asking generally about her condition.

“Um…” Callie pondered, swirling the drink in her glass. “I go back and forth,” she started, and Nick had stopped bickering with his father to look at her, listening quietly. “Some days I feel okay and others I feel like I did something wrong, and that guilt won’t lessen,”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Nick said quietly, and she shrugged indifferently.

“Can’t help how I feel,”

“It’s not strange,” Dinara commented, her chin rested atop her knuckles, her small shoulders drawn in. “A piece of you was taken away,”

Nick ran his hand down the back of her hair when Callie looked down, leaning over to kiss her cheek without waver.

“Ahh, you must see the squishy side of our son quite often,” Oleg cooed, and Nick’s head snapped in his direction to glower.

“Squishy?” Callie repeated, relieved the subject was shifting. But with a final glance in Dinara’s direction, her warm eyes said everything she might’ve wanted to say before her husband interrupted. Only compassion and understanding came from that look and small nod, and Callie wondered what she had ever been worried about in the first place.

“He’s such a grump- never showed any kind of affection for his other girlfriends. He’d sit there like a plank, wouldn’t even hold their hands or smile,”

“Those little witches didn’t even bother chewing with their mouths closed,” Dinara added in quickly.

“How many did you bring to meet?” Callie asked, eyeing Nick suspiciously.

“Okay first of all-” Nick started.

“Ffffour…?” Oleg counted, thinking back critically.

“Shut up. None of them lasted more than a month,”

“Hama was the worst. Her tusks were nearly black and she drew on crooked eyebrows,” Dinara shuddered, and Nick was hiding his face again as Callie leaned in, completely enthralled.

“There was Glasha,” Oleg held up two fingers now.

“Kept calling him Opal,” Dinara exclaimed, jabbing her thumb in Oleg’s direction.

“Shel,”

“Shel was mean,” Nick said, despite hiding. “She ghosted me after I told her I wanted to be a cop,”

“Well I can’t blame her entirely for that one,” Dinara mumbled, and Nick’s arms raised in defeat, leaning back in his chair.

“Here we go again…”

“Why do you want to stand up for a people who look at you like you’re infected?” his mother questioned, inclining over the edge of the table.

“None of the reasons you think I wanted to,” Nick snapped, crossing his arms.

“What about you, Calista? You mind if he’s the Orc cop?”

Callie faltered a bit, but looking at Nick’s downcast eyes and stiff shoulders stirred the protectiveness in her heart, even if it was his own mother berating him.

“I don’t mind, actually. I never saw Nick as just an Orc, or just a cop, or the Orc cop. He’s always just been Nick to me,” she explained, nervously reaching for his hand under the table. “I worry about him all the time, but I think Nick will bring change with him where he goes. I think it’s only a matter of time before people gain courage like him and start pursuing dreams that are usually unreachable,”

Callie’s cheeks heated when it remained silent, but Nick had pulled her hand into his lap and squeezed, silently thanking her.

“You look like the bad guy now,” Oleg whispered loudly to Dinara, and she smacked his hand again as he chuckled.

“I suppose I do,” Dinara sighed, holding her own cheek. “I worry for you, ukmall. What if something happens to you when you have children?”

“Then I’m really not gonna let anything happen,” Nick replied coolly. “Especially not to any of my kids,”

“Planning a family already?” Oleg asked, taking another massive bite of the food.

Callie and Nick looked at one another. Callie smirked, almost unnoticeable, and he did too.

“I want all boys. Bunch’a little Nick’s running around,” she simpered, and Nick kissed her hand, rolling his eyes when Oleg whined ‘Awww’.

“You wouldn’t be bothered having Orc children?” Dinara asked, and when Callie’s eyes flashed to hers, she couldn’t restrain some of her annoyance. Ultimately, she understood his mother's hesitance to let anyone near her son who’d received bitter lashings most of his life, but also wished she understood that Callie felt the same way. She didn’t want anyone near Nick who could harm him, and her heart had decided long ago that there would be no other she wanted raising her children then him, assuming she could eventually bare life.

“Halflings deal with twice the normal hate than Orcs,” Dinara added.

“Mom,” Nick said firmly, but his mother was resolute.

“You wouldn’t be bothered having hafling grandchildren?” Callie bit back hotly, but Nick saw her knee bouncing. That was a wide leap to make.

Dinara nodded, the corner of her mouth finally kicking up a bit. “Good girl. Teeavh ukavayun barun,”

Callie’s brows flickered in confusion, but Nick and Oleg’s satisfied nods silenced her. Something was transpiring here, and she didn’t want to ruin it.

“Expect your kids to be tiny assholes like this one, though.” Oleg interjected, and Dinara and Nick both rolled their eyes while Callie laughed.

The conversation winded back to lighter topics as the long dinner dragged on, but after standing her ground, Dinara didn’t blister Callie with questions most likely meant to shake her foundation; to make her prove exactly where she stood beside Nick. Children didn’t come up again, but Oleg made it a point to draw out Nick’s embarrassment at any chance he could snatch, always resulting in Dinara stepping in to fend off the teasing as Nick hid away, sometimes leaning against Callie while she hid her laughter behind a napkin.

It jumped here and there, ranging from examining some of Callie’s tattoos and Dinara telling how she’d always wanted a few all the way to how Oleg had been a chiropractor before teaching at the university. “I used to smoke joints before I cracked them.” he teased, and even Nick almost shot drink from his nose when he heard that one.

Somehow they made their way to the backyard, and with sweaters wrapped tightly around their frames, the women sat at the table with mugs of tea as Nick and Oleg wandered around his garden. His dad always had something to point at and correct, which always stirred more arguing, but Dinara rolled her golden eyes and waved them away.

“Those two never end,” she groaned, sipping her tea, and looking over to Callie as she grinned at her lover. “Calista,”

“Callie, please,” she corrected.

Dinara nodded. “I’m sorry for picking at you. I could see fire spitting from Nick’s eyes everytime I asked a question,” his mother explained, looking back to her men.

“I think I’d be the same,” Callie assured.

Dinara sighed, her head tilting. “I worry about him greatly, yet somehow after years of hate and bitter humans he’s remained my sweet boy. I’ve so longed for him to find someone so he’s not lonely,” she went on softly. “I’d always tell him- just show them how kind you are, my love, and he’d say Ma, I have! Humans hate what they fear,”

“It’s true,”

“You didn’t though. You befriended my son who’s usually a wall,”

Callie giggled. “It was the other way around, actually. I don’t usually like talking to people but he was just too damn cute in that uniform,” she admitted, and Dinara laughed.

“You better not be telling her more stories,” Nick grumbled as they walked up to them, placing their own mugs on the table before flopping back into their chairs.

“You two should join the ballet with that kind of choreography,” Callie piped, and Dinara laughed again, earning sour stares from Nick and Oleg.

“You will have to rub my back tonight, I’ve eaten too much,” Oleg groaned, and Nick looked at Callie with a pout, nodding in agreeance with his father, but his silent plea was shot down with a hard shake of her head, but winked before he looked from her.

“I suppose we should go then,” Dinara declared with a sigh, looking at Nick. “I have to take care of that,” she mumbled, eyeing his father; Nick snorted.

“You act like you don’t have any use of me when just last night you were begging-”

“Oleg.” Dinara snapped, and Callie was struggling not to choke on her tea, but Nick was covering his ears, yelling at his father to shut up. Oleg didn’t seem to understand why so much trouble had suddenly befallen him, with his palms raised and the mischevioused of smiles across his face.

Dinara hugged Callie this time, her thin arms strong around Callie’s shoulders. “Make him call us.” Dinara whispered, and with a light chuckle and nod, Dinara stepped back, holding Callie’s face a chaste moment before hugging Nick.

“Take it easy on her.” Oleg winked, flinching when his wife flicked his cheek.

She thought it precious when she watched his parents walking down the path, Oleg’s elbow hooked around Dinara’s neck and her arm around his waist, chatting silently as they left.

Nick stretched fiercely as she locked the door behind them, immediately maneuvering her bra around to relieve some of the pressure on the bite.

“So?” he asked, his arms dropping.

“Your dad is fucking hilarious,” she smiled, and he rolled his eyes, pulling his hands down his face as he turned away.

“He’s a handful,”

“Nah it’s funny,” she insisted, walking into the kitchen as Nick collected the plates across the table. Before anything however, Callie pulled her bra from underneath her shirt, exhaling in great relief when the bite no longer itched manically.

“Your mom totally has that mama bear thing,” Callie mentioned. “I’ve never met a mom so protective of her baby boy,” she cracked, and he blew a raspberry as he walked back to stack the dishes beside the sink.

“She likes you- she wouldn’t have been mean if she didn’t,” he explained, and her brow cocked. “Glasha, one of the exes? When I brought her around, my mom was silent the entire time and let her go on and on, all disrespectful, and when I apologized to her she said- ‘it’s okay ukmall, she won’t be around very long anyways,’”

Callie made an ‘O’ face, giggling the more she imagined how Nick must’ve looked when his mother dropped that bomb.

“I’m glad then. I really like your mom,” she nodded. “What does ukmall mean?”

“Tiny,” he intoned, his mouth in a straight line.

“Oh! That’s like what Rosie call’s Joaquin! She calls him ‘nano’ cause he’s small,”

“I’m only small compared to some,” he guarded.

Compared to her, Nick was a thick man, given just enough height to still intimidate humans, but to other Orcs, he was rather small. It got Callie thinking, and wondering what genes would carry on to their kids, but she shook her head stiffly.

Stop getting ahead of yourself.

“So what’s next? Cousins?” she asked, rinsing the plates as Nick nibbled on the last piece of toasted bread.

“I suppose. Next family reunion. You’ll need to make a list to remember all of them and my aunties and uncles,” he chewed. “Most of the from my dads side,’

“They like him too?” she grinned, and he nodded, his eyes rolling back in exhaustion.

“All a bunch of animals,”

“So that’s where you got it from in your younger days?”

“Probably,” he threw back the last of another beer, groaning when he leaned against the counter.

There was a pause, and then she was suddenly stepping towards him to kiss his cheek, then a sweet one on his lips as he looked at her curiously.

“What’s that for?”

“I was thinking about what your mom said,” she explained, continuing with the dishes. “That when you brought your other girlfriends around you didn’t show affection, or much of anything. It made me feel like you’re really in for this,”

“I wouldn’t’ve asked you to meet my parents if I wasn’t,”

“Well what about the others? Sounded like you introduced them pretty quickly,” she eyed him.

“That was different. I was lonely,” he intoned, his arms crossing defensively.

“Didn’t have any friends back then?”

“Well sure, but not that kind of lonely,” he mumbled, searching for the right words.

“Touch starved?” she asked, and he nodded. “I get that. Before I met you I hadn’t been with anyone for like a year and some change,”

He grinned. “Found each other at the right time,”

“Wish it would’ve been sooner,” she simpered, leaning against him when he pressed to her side, his hand against the back of her neck so he could place a few kisses on her temple.

“We have time to make up for it,” he said contently.

“Long time.” she grinned, craning her head back to kiss him.

“Endlessly.”

He’d just walked into the bathroom with her favorite mug in hand, filled to the brim with hot tea as she was pulling the curler through the last lock of hair. She quickly ran her fingers through it, reaching for the hairspray to coat her head. He coughed, leaning back from the small plume of chemicals.

She fluffed the ends around her shoulders, looking back at him in the mirror.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” she asked.

“My uniform is in my locker,” he chimed, and she sighed, looking back at her reflection. “You look so pretty,”

She shrugged, pulling on the thin collared blouse before she did the black collared jacket, rolling the sleeves up to the white dress shirt beneath accented it nicely. “If I get hired there it’s gonna be expensive keeping up with the dress code,”

“Gonna miss wearing jeans and sandals?” he grinned.

“So much. At least I’ll be in air conditioning.” She smoothed her hands down her hips, over the fitted pencil skirt that brought the entire outfit together. Callie turned this way and that, constantly tugging on ends of the clothing and fixing her neat fringe, all the while Nick watched her with a grin in his pullover and sweats.

He steadied her as she slipped on her heels, even raising her hand to spin her slowly before him, holding her own face when pink dusted her cheeks. A final spin before the mirror and a flick of her head to move her hair from her eyes, and she exhaled, satisfied with her interview outfit.

“You look nervous,”

“I am for you,” she mumbled, digging in her makeup bag to pull out the deep shade of red lipstick she often wore. “Are you sure you’re okay to go back?”

“I’m okay baby. I don’t hurt anymore. Plus, I don’t think Heig would let me waltz in with anymore doctors excuses,”

“Fuckin’ dick,” she said, smoothing her lips together after applying the lipstick.

He nodded, sipping the tea he’d originally made for her. “I guess you’re heading home today after the interview?”

At first she didn’t look up when she shrugged, but eventually she turned to face him, her heels clopping against the tile. “I guess?”

He ran his tongue over his clipped tusks. “It’s gonna be weird not having you around all the time,”

“Will you still come over? Probably tonight when I inevitably get too lonely?” she asked quietly, peaking at him from behind her bangs.

“I was gonna come over anyways. It’s gonna be too empty here,” he grinned, and held her jaw delicately to kiss her a few times as she approached him. “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” she grumbled, reaching to grab her bags, but he scooped them up first.

“No glasses… no, I think I’ll wear them,” she put them back on, patting her thighs a couple times. “I still can’t see,” she sighed, defeated, but couldn’t rub her eyes.

“Keep them on if they help,” he decided for her, his wrist rested over the steering wheel. A curt nod, and she fixed her tresses again before turning to him. Her big eyes were a deep, warm ocean of worry, and it in turn made him frown.

“Baby,” he whined.

“Text me? When you can and be safe?” she croaked, clutching his hand tightly. He pulled her over the center console, kissing the worry from her stressed frame. He held her tightly against his chest for a little bit, mindful of her neat hair and smartly pressed outfit, willing her anxiety to reel back enough just for today.

“I’ll be in touch, okay? Go in there with a clear head,” he kissed her again. “And I’ll be over tonight with pizza and drinks to celebrate,”

She nodded, blinking the moisture from her eyes before grabbing his face to kiss him again, lingering, committing this to memory when her heart demanded it. The rampaging fear he wouldn’t return to her at days end was suffocating her, but she wouldn’t say it out loud. She wouldn’t acknowledge her demons.

“I love you Callie.” he told her, his forehead against hers.

“I love you so much.” she sighed, her thumbs tracing his cheeks before she finally let him go.

She left her bags behind since she was going to see him again later, but had her purse tight at her side, her hands fiddling before her as she walked up the curb. Callie faced him as the engine turned over, flashing a nervous smile before walking into the bank.

He knew she’d do good. He knew from the very depths of his heart that she could nail this, and that going back to work would bring her back into routine and take up her time so her thoughts didn’t have space to drag her down. Even if it meant seeing her less, this was good for her.

He drove to the station in silence, the radio a soft lull, and the seat beside him empty.

That was going to take some adjusting to.

The precinct was as unwelcoming as ever, and he parked in the back lot like always, grabbing his warbag before walking to the entrance. Nick went generally unnoticed as he wound his way through the halls, only meeting a few unsavory glances from fellow officers that obviously would’ve preferred him not returning. Nick dished out his coldest glares, his chin lifted proudly as he made his way to the lockers.

Fuck who ever doesn’t like you.

The target poster with his name written crudely across the top had been taken down, and when he wrapped around the isle of lockers to find his, Ward was already changing.

“My man!” Daryl said cheerily, the men clasping fists and hugging quickly. “All healed up?”

“Pretty much. Little help from Callie last night.” Nick said quieter as he opened his locker. The photobooth strip was still there; he’d never taken it down, and now fixed it beside the small mirror.

“Good t’have you back.” Ward clapped against his shoulder.

No one bothered him or made snide remarks as he changed, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone said something. The uniform was a tad bit loose; he needed to bulk back up after six weeks of laying around. The vest was pulled over his chest, his badge pinned over that, but now his cleaned Clubmasters hung off his collar, his watch finding its place around his wrist since Callie had taken it to be repaired.

All in all, he felt good. There was a sense of accomplishment coming back here. The world had tried bringing him down again, but he’d fought his way back to the surface.

“Let’s bounce, Fogteeth.” Ward cracked, but Nick only rolled his eyes when a few heads turned.

There was no warm welcome from his captain in the briefing room, but Nick preferred it that way. Standing alone didn’t bother him the same any longer. He counted the people by his side, and that was all he needed. They sat slacked in their seats as morning briefings were announced, and they rose when their routes were given, and with idle chatting they made their way to the kit room, grabbing their shotguns before making their way out of the building.

Nick’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he opened it to find a message from Callie.

2 things: 1- i forgot to pay my rent 4 days ago and now i owe an extra $450. 2- ya girl got the job

He snickered. Might as well renege on the lease. I knew you’d score that job, i’m proud of you baby

“Callie got a job,” Nick announced, slipping his phone back into his pocket as they approached the cruiser.

“That’s what’s up. Don’t you two go actin’ a fool again,” Ward quipped, both of them taking their sides in the car with Nick behind the wheel as usual.

“Nah, I’ve been thinking of asking her to move in,” Nick exhaled, reacquainting with all the controls and adjusting his seat.

“Already?” Ward asked, leaning against the door comfortably.

Nick put his Clubmasters on, nodding after he questioned himself.

Fuck yeah already.

To be continued . . .

There it is, the ending to Bell Peppers! To everyone who has come along on this journey with me and stuck around for ride; to the likes, kudos, comments and feedback on the story and art, thank you so much from the deepest corners of my heart! You all kept me inspired to keep writing and keep uploading! I would also like to take a moment to thank @rfitzhugh74 for beta-reading this monster!! I was incredibly nervous to hand over my writing, and she’s been an absolute blessing and so patient with me, so thank you love!!! 💛

Milagro is already in the works, so keep a lookout for Nick and Callie's return!

Translations: Ukmall - "small"

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

why doesn’t the current employment system work?

easy, it’s a half-assed one-solution-fits-all approach made by rich people who have NEVER used the employment search system.

-

How does it work?

You want centrelink? You get assigned a job-search centre, there’s always 4-5 in even small towns now. It’s a lucrative business.

You’re told ‘search for 20-40 jobs per month’ based on your area. They have to be jobs you could reasonably do (one or two assholes made sure the whole system was tightened bc they’d apply for things they had no qualifications for). 

These are entered online, on a special governmental site. Failure to locate the right amount gets you a strike, or more than one.

Which is hard because there are only so many jobs in smaller towns, right?

So let’s say you have no luck, you hand in the 20 for that fortnight, and ‘report’ online to centrelink that you are following the rules.

They also make you do mandatory courses such as the 2-day ‘Resume Writing Course’ that you can do up to twice in 6 months. It’s as stupid as it sounds, and you learn nothing but that you hate the place.

Also, 3-day mandatory ‘Communication with People’. How to talk to people. Literally. 3 days of your life gone. Gee, wish I’d done some sort of degree around literally talking to people and using analysis... hmmm... 

They do not Recognise Prior Learning, at all. Because each person they make attend gets them more and more money.

-

New rules allow for them to identify a job you HAVE to apply for -even if you must write a new resume and cover letter. Which, in some cases, is a little fair.  Maybe you’re using one from years ago.

New rules can make them demand you call the HR of a certain place in front of them, to prove your resume went in, and to ask about the position. Of course, this will slap you on the Hell No list, but at least they’re satisfied.

New rules allow them to make you change your existing resume -e.g. they can demand you remove your degree/qualifications to make you more attractive to retail employers (always wary of taking on someone who might move on quickly).

That only works for 6 months these days.

- - - 

After 6 months, they send you on a Work-for-the-Dole assignment to a local charity.

They’re supposed to do risk assessments, and follow up on allegations of groping weirdoes and pedophilia (looking at you, Salvation Army*). But they don’t. [ *that person who did it was literally the Community Member of the Year until the truth of what the local SA was covering up came to light. Fucking creep of a man, so many flags that Jesus absolved him of.]

That nonsense injured two members of my family directly, as well as others; at the same place, at different times, and both were deemed ‘our fault’. Despite that the first incident involved an unqualified asshole making a teenage boy hold a fridge, then deliberately dropping the truck tray fast so it yanked the ligaments in the kid’s shoulder so badly it took 6-12 months to heal with physiotherapy.

And the second time, a bookshelf held up with STICKY-tape was broken by a customer, and fell off slamming into my knees and feet, causing untold agony... resulting in a fractured patella in one knee and severe bruising/clicking/weird shit that persists even a year and a half later... but that was my fault.

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

In short, each person is assigned up to 55 hours per fortnight that they have to undertake with a charity of some formation. OR ROADWORK - they can also make you do roadwork. Like they tried to do to the just-healed teenage boy the minute his medical exemption period was up, even though he couldn’t raise his arm all the way yet. It’s Making Money, not Helping People Find Jobs.

They also made an app, that the person attending MUST download (even if you have to delete just about every single other thing on the cheap phone to make room for it).

It’s called Jobapp or some shit. Basically, when you get there the manager or head volunteer (often tech illiterate) HAS to print a QR code for you, and only you.

You sign into the app, this takes a while bc it’s not well designed and cuts out often. Finally, you find the hard-to-locate-and-ambiguously-named part where you can ‘sign in’ as being at your ‘activity’.

If you’re there all day, and you will be, there are Two Codes.

You scan them to separate locations in the app. And boom, you’re registered as there. It only takes one missed QR code or app failure to land you in shit, though.

And then you spend all day cleaning, on the till, arguing with people over op shop items bc they feel certain prices are too high even if it’s less than a third the real price. And you’re not allowed to sit or chill or anything... unless you’re a volunteer. They can get away with murder.

So that goes on for six months, slowly draining the will to live from your bones.

All the while, you still have to do the 20-40 jobs things and find time for their Training Modules that you already did but hey, you’re a moneymaker. Sometimes they will NOT count the training days towards your Total 55hours per fortnight, so you lose the one free day a week you had...

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

It sucks... but I think the other thing we should mention is that this doesn’t really exclude any jobseekers.

Disabled? Elderly? Medical Issues? Can’t speak english very well? Other issue?

Get in there. We get paid to supervise your activity!

Like, there are a lot of people doing job seeking activities who are unfit for the position they are forced into. For many reasons.

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

The thing I found laughable was that they could apply for you, without your knowledge, and if that resulted in an interview you HAD to go. If they feel you tanked the interview, they can penalise you...

There are ways to tank an interview, though. Trust me.  Especially for telemarketer interviews, just have an awkward phone manner, like you’re trying but it’s Weird. And boom, no. [Not that there’s anything wrong with that job, but they signed me up for it without my permission and some dangerous clients worked there, I would not have been safe, they didn’t care tho].

Also, you can’t apply for certain positions for someone with a degree. Our ability is measured in the way we respond to the questions and assessment requests... you can force us to apply to them, but trying to write in for us is just ridiculous. 

They might also call and call and call anyone on your applied-for list that they directed you to apply for... which of course, can tank your chances. Very annoying.

And if you get a job, on your own merit, they take credit for it immediately. I assume there’s a bonus or something.

- - - - - 

The agency I was sent to, MaxEmployment, was actually THROWN OUT OF ANOTHER STATE FOR COMMITTING FRAUD AGAINST THE GOVERNMENT.

So naturally, QLD said ‘yeah, let’s have that one’.

M.E. allegedly used to claim they had held mass training events with 80+ people every few weeks, doing those awful little courses listed above.  Except, on inspection by confused governmental officials..,. they discovered the room would barely hold 5-6 people including a trainer. Therefore, fraud.

Also, M.E. has failed to catch fake-ads (resulting in free 2-hour work ‘trials’ for a certain cafe that went over a year, fraud) and even sent an unaccompanied 15 year old girl to a fucking BROTHEL after identifying a clearly-not-for-an-admin ad for ‘an admin’ at that location.

IT’s always MONEY.

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

If you are in charge of the poor, the ill, the desperate... then it should not be for money incentives. You should get a flat wage and that’s it.

Why? Because then people who are actually able to do the job, and willing to help people, will do it. Not just people who see dollar signs when they look at the tired, the unemployed and the ill.

And they need to actually fire bad people.

Let me tell you about this woman I had to deal with in a 6 month break from my fucking uni degree due to illness. Automatically, they threw me into job seeking.  I didn’t have a voice for like 2 months, but that didn’t matter.

This huge, hulking, rotund potato of a woman, balding ranga and a face as mean as a bulldog’s arsehole... was my caseworker person. She was a nightmare.

I would find 20 jobs, and hand in the sheet, she would yell at me, that I was being smart and she wouldn’t accept that. I once applied for nearly 65 jobs in one fortnight out of desperation, because she kept having my centrelink cut off without warning if I refused to complete another sheet.

The other caseworkers never stopped her. The manager would not hear my complaints or concerns. She could do what she wanted.

And she knew I could not stop her. The one thing about the situation that kept me apart form others there was that, if I absolutely couldn’t take it, my parental unit said we would ‘manage’ until I went back to uni the next year. Others were unable to do that, and so, this absolute cunt of a woman... held sway.

She had no class, no charm and no people skills. She screamed at the top of her lungs at a tiny asian lady who a) didn’t have a great grasp on english at the time, and b) did not understand all the big words this self-important ranga was using just to sound intelligent.

Apparently the solution to ‘I do not understand’ is raise your voice, to screaming, and get angry. NONE of her colleagues even looked up at her.  Jesus, if one of my colleagues was yelling like that I’d have dragged them out of the room by their fucking hair, like what the HELL was that about.

Was she stopped or fired? No. Was she transferred to some unsuspecting town? Yeah.

I don’t trust organisations who will not admit they hired the wrong person, and fire them. It means they’re hiding shit.

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

TL;DR - The whole system is a disaster.

They claim more people are employed, but they also count people on those mandatory work-for-the-dole things, which skews the unemployment number to less than it is.

It is exhausting to deal with and its no wonder so many fucking people are so depressed death seems like the only solution.

And it was all thanks to a handful of people rorting the system; the idiots up top went into red-alert levels of panic and upended the system to punish people.

AND THAT’S NOT EVEN FUCKING TALKING ABOUT THE NEW BASICS CARD SYSTEM

which is nonsense

sure, limit what people can get to groceries and certain stores, including op shops or whatevs. can’t get smokes or alcohol on the cards...

have to have ID for the cards...

but like, you think people won’t find ways to get the smokes, drugs and alcohol they want? you’ve just ensured that they either pawn their things, or do degrading acts to get those things...

so give yourselves a moralistic high-five, people who decided this system was a great idea (primarily bc they and their family/social circle will never need to use it), because you’ve cause d so many more problems than you solved...