#dirk with long hair?? take my money

[voidite]

"Oh wow, I feel so underdressed...you have a three piece suit on!"

"Don't mind me, I came from a business meeting at work, I had no choice but to dress up. You look lovely by the way...still the same as back in high school." Mikaela looked at him more closely, it's like he hadn't aged a day!

"You look the same too...except you let your hair grow out." Dirk practically used to be bald, he always said having hair was a chore.

"How long have you been back in town?"

"Oh just a month or so, just trying to get settled in my new house. It's been a lot of work actually. My parents sent me some simoleons to get things going." Mikaela had quite a bit of money saved from her time abroad, but her parents have always been quite the helpers.

"Well, would you like to order some coffee and maybe something to snack on?"

"Oh absolutely!"

~I forgot to take more pictures of their date, but things went very well because~

Mikaela gave Dirk a goodbye kiss and said that she hoped they would see each other again soon! 💕

[mxrsmordre]

Dirk Cresswell

hey isn’t that Dirk Cresswell? I’ve heard that the 23 year old wizard can be be kind of closed off and quiet…. but that might not be true because I also heard the Halfblood can be quite kind and open minded. One of my muggleborn friends thought they were Grant Gustin, but I have no idea who that is.

Ex Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw Loyalty: Order of the Phoenix Gender Identity and Pronouns: Cismale, he/him Sexuality: Heterosexual Changes to Canon: N/A What four songs would be a must in your characters playlist?

Dance, Dance by Fall out Boy

Don’t by Ed Sheeran

Dream on by Aerosmith

Hello I love you by The Doors   

Biography Dirk was raised knowing that both worlds existed, his parents wanted him to build connections in the wizarding world and the muggle world. He was brought up to know that they were equal and one was not better than the other, just did things differently.  He went to a muggle primary school until he was nine, he had to be home schooled between then and starting Hogwarts because he kept inadvertently making things happen, that his parents were struggling to explain away.  The last straw was when during read through of a book, Dirk got so stressed out about speaking publicly that he turned his teachers hair pink from staring at her with angst.  Of course, they didn’t know it was him… but his parents thought it best to take him away before anything else happened. 

He had what you might call, a sheltered childhood. His father worked as a lawyer in Glasgow, and his mother earned money monthly for her various published works in the wizarding world.. They weren’t vastly wealthy, but they were comfortable. The house he grew up in, the house his father still resides in, is a semi detached bungalow in a sleepy little street.  With ivy crawling up the side of it, and a long footpath to the main road, Dirk’s family life was moderately peaceful. His parents only had eyes for eachother, and this is very much where he got his view of love from, he was born into a family that simply adored eachother, despite the differences between them.  

Dirk was so excited to start Hogwarts, however, he genuinely had no idea and no real favourite house that he really wanted to join, he would have been happy with any, except perhaps Slytherin.  As his father is a muggle, he only had his mother to go off, she had been a Ravenclaw, and though she didnt talk about her family much, she mentioned that most of her family had been a mixture of Slytherin and Ravenclaw, but she was sure that her son was no Slytherin.  This had eased Dirk slightly, because from what he knew about the Green house he wouldn’t have fitted in there.  In the end, the sorting hat stalled when it sat upon his head, it couldn’t choose between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor… in the end it went with the Eagle crest house.  

Dirk really excelled whilst at Hogwarts and he made some real friends in his house. There were however, some Ravens that were best left alone.   It was during his time at Hogwarts that he discovered several things about himself that he never would have known otherwise for one, he was a talented chaser and played for his house from his third year until leaving Hogwarts, for another, he only enjoyed charms but excelled at that and the same with Defensive magic. 

When his mother died, a part of Dirk died too, because he not only lost his mother, he saw in real time his father’s heart break cleanly in two. To a casual onlooker, it may seem like Dirk is fine, but anyone who really knows him would know that he’s quietly struggling.

Headcanons:       (1) Dirk is a half blood and he’s really proud of that, he’s very tech savy and has been helping out in the ministry to try and teach the older Aurors about how quick muggles can let the world know about them. 

(2)  He lives between his dads in scotland and his flat in Diagon, it’s getting harder at the moment to visit his dad, so he hasn’t been home in afew months.

(3) Dirk is really skilled at herbology and charms, so he considered becoming a healer, but was headhunted by the Ministry to work for them because of his knowledge of technology and grades in defensive magic. 

(4) He’s extremely kind and loyal, to a fault.  He was a hat stall between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The hat was insistent that he belonged in Gryffindor, but Dirk disagreed, wanting to share a house with his mother and asked the hate to consider Ravenclaw instead. 

(5) Ted is his best friend, they share everything and know each other very well, they are able to understand each other in a way some of their other peers don’t.

[bewitchingfanfiction]

Homestuck Fic (2019/12/23)

"You want to play what?" Karkat questioned in disbelief, arms crossed as he narrowed his eyes at Roxy. 

It was a couple days before Christmas, everyone was hanging out in John's backyard as usual. After knowing each other for so long, it became routine when it came to hanging out at each other's houses, they had a rotation with a couple exceptions (such as Dave and Dirk's house, Vriska's house and Gamzee's house). 

Roxy nodded enthusiastically, a hat filled with paper in her hand. "We'll each take a card and then have to buy a gift for that person, it'll be fun!"

"Um...I-I dunno...that sounds like a lot of pressure..." Tavros swallowed hard. Vriska was sat on his lap and had her arms around his neck. She scoffed. 

"Don't be such a coward Tavros, it'll be fun. Who knows, maybe you'll luck out and not have to buy me something, which would be good for me to since we both know you'll get it wrong." She smiled.

Sometimes nobody knew why Tavros and Vriska even stuck together, their relationship was barely working.

"I say let's do it, come on we're all friends, no matter who we get this will be easy." Aradia said confidently from her place next to Sollux. Most of the friends were sat on the grass, with the exceptions of Tavros (who was in his wheelchair) and Rose and Kanaya who had taken the one bench set up.

"Can we trade with each other?" Nepeta questioned.

Roxy shook her head. "No! The whole point is that  we put thought into each other's gifts, as a way of showing how much we mean to each other you know? Then on Christmas we can all give each other our gifts." She grinned.

"Sure why not?" John shrugged.

"Sounds like fun." Jade smiled.

Many seemed a bit reluctant to do it, but as the others stepped forward to take a paper everyone found themselves doing the same.

"Remember, no telling each other who you got." Roxy giggled and looked at who she got. She squealed a little.

"Um, I can't read mine." Terezi spoke up awkwardly.

Karkat grunted. "Can I tell Terezi who she got?"

"Fine, but whisper it, if you can." Roxy joked, earning a glare from Karkat.

He quickly looked at who Terezi got and whispered it in her ear, she smiled a little mischievously. "Got it."

"Alright everyone, good luck finding a gift for your secret Santa." Roxy winked.

But as everyone continued thinking of ideas for each other, they realized they were going to need all the luck they could get.

~~~

"I am so screwed." Dirk commented, he and Jane were drinking coffee at a cafe.

She smiled in amusement and sipped her drink. "And why is that?"

"I got about the only person who I have literally no clue what to buy for. I- like, okay, I'm, this is not my, I'm not meant for this kind of party game." He groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Jane snickered. "You mean a game where you have to think about other people."

"Exactly."

"Look it's not hard, if you're that stuck then just try talking to them, learn about them." Jane shrugged.

Dirk sighed heavily. "That sounds like the worst time ever."

"If it makes you feel better, I got the absolute worst person too. I have no clue what to get them." She told him.

"Trust me, whoever you have isn't as bad as who I got. I guess I should get going now, only got couple days to do this. Later Jane." He placed enough money down for his drink and Jane's before heading out of the cafe.

The moment Dirk was out, Jane took out her phone and dialed a number. "HELP ME!" She hissed into her phone.

"Something wrong Janey?" Roxy asked over the phone.

"I have no idea what to get the person I got and I've gotta get help." She said desperatly.

Roxy sighed. "I'm sorry Janey, you'll just have to think about it on your own. I can't help you. Ttyl." She hung up.

Jane groaned and sunk into her seat.

What the hell was she suppose to get Dirk?

~~~

Dirk entered the house to see Dave on top of Karkat making out on the couch. "Whoa Jesus, uh, should I like, come back later?" The two immedientally broke apart when he spoke, both looking like they just had heart attacks.

They quickly scrambled off the couch and Dave tried his best to look casual. "Hey...bro..."

"...Really...we're gonna pretend that you two weren't going at it, on the couch, in the middle of the day." Dirk commented.

"Wow look at me leaving now." Karkat yanked up his sweater to cover the painfully obvious hickey marks forming on his skin and rushed out the front door past Dirk as quickly as possible.

Dirk snorted "Smooth."

"Look I'm sorry, I would've warned you but I didn't know when Bro would get back, I had to take the chance." Dave sighed.

"Welp, you walked in once on Jake and I actually doing it on the couch, so I guess we'll call it even." Dirk commented, Dave shuddered in horror at the memory.

Dirk huffed and sat down at the table. "You gotta help me, I don't know what to do about my secret Santa."

"Just buy 'em whatever." Dave shrugged.

"I can't. This one...is important." Dirk explained.

Dave paused. "...Who is it?"

"Can't say, Roxy would kill me."

"Fair enough. My task feels impossible too, and it's also super weird." Dave told him, putting his hands in his pockets.

Dirk scoffed. "Believe me, I get it."

"This was sort of a shitty idea." Dave commented.

"Yup."

Be even so, neither wanted to disappoint Roxy, or their secret Santa; it wouldn't be right.

Dave headed off to his room and Dirk whipped out his phone and opened a notepad on it. He wrote down things he somewhat knew his secret Santa liked.

After a couple minutes of silence he groaned in frustration.

~~~

"Wow, this looks great!" John beamed at his creation.

Kanaya nodded. "It does...what is it?" John rolled his eyes and face planted into the desk, covering his face with his arms. 

"It's suppose to be a skirt." He snapped.

"...Forgive me John, but I don't believe skirts have sleeves." Kanaya commented.

John scowled. "I don't know what happened! Sewing machines are stupid!" 

"Don't blame the machine when the creator is clearly at fault." She told him stiffly, a tad offended he made fun of her sewing device.

"Look I'm sorry Kanaya, this is literally my first time ever even touching a sewing machine. I don't know how to make a skirt." He sighed.

Kanaya bit her lip before sighing softly. John's eyes widened as she sat down super close to him, their legs pressed together and shoulders brushing. "Explain your vision, I will take care of it."

A grin formed on John's face as he explained his design. Kanaya immedientally to work and unlike John, she not only was able to make it but she made it quickly.

"Wow, that was awesome." He told her when she finished. She handed the skirt to him with a small smile.

"If you wouldn't mind John, I have to decide on a gift for the person I got." She told him.

John took the hint and left her house immedientally.

The moment he left Kanaya got to work on her gift, she had an idea of what she wanted to give she just didn't know how to make it.

~~~

"It's so cute watching them all struggle." Eridan smirked, his arm around Feferi's waist.

She giggled lightly. They were at her house cuddling by the fireplace. "We got lucky. I knew from the moment I saw who I got what I wanted to give them."

"For a split second I was a tad nervous, but then I realized how simple mine actually was." Eridan told her.

"Still, I feel a bit bad for everyone else. Equius, Sollux and Tavros have already called asking for help." Feferi said.

Eridan scoffed. "We're not suppose to help each other."

"Exactly. So what'd you get me for Christmas?" She asked with a grin.

"We did secret Santa so we didn't have to buy each other gifts, do you honestly think I went out of my way to purchase you anything?" Eridan snapped.

Feferi gave him a knowing smile. "Eridan."

"Okay I may have bought you one thing," He admitted taking a small box but long box out of his pocket, he handed it to her.

She opened it and beamed. "Oh Eridan...it's beautiful." It was a silver necklace with the Pisces and Aquarius symbols on it.

"It better be. Had it specially ordered, just for you my dear." He smiled, looking very proud of himself.

Feferi kissed his cheek and slipped the necklace on. "I love it."

"Of course you do." He smirked.

~~~

 Nepeta swung on the swing at the park sadly, staring at the ground. "Why are you so depressed?" Equius asked calmly from the swing next to her, but he wasn't actually swinging.

"...I...I just really wanted to get Karkitty for secret Santa you know?" Nepeta told him sadly.

Equius scowled. He didn't blame Karkat, he couldn't, not when he knew Karkat liked boys, that was out of his control.

But he just...wished it didn't hurt Nepeta so badly.

"Am I stupid fur thinking I ever had a chance?" Nepeta asked with watery eyes.

"No, of course not...Nepeta, if I could make Karkat love you I'd do it in a heartbeat." He sighed.

Nepeta's eyes widened. "You would?"

"...Yes...even if he tears me apart inside." Equius told her simply before getting up and walking away, he couldn't face her, he wasn't strong enough, not yet.

~~~

"Okay you worthless pieces of trash, don't worry Karkat when I'm talking about you I mean it with love," Vriska winked at him and Karkat scowled. "Let's get this secret Santa shit over with."

It was Christmas day, and everyone was over at Karkat's house for it. The living room was a tad small but they all sit fit relatively well.

"Who's gonna start?" John questioned.

Roxy grinned. "I'll decide!!!" She jumped up. "Okay...I'll start!" Nobody was surprised.

They watched as she picked up her gift and rushed over to Terezi. "Merry Christmas from your secret Santa Terezi!" She handed it over.

Terezi smiled a little as she took the gift, feeling around it and unwrapping the paper, she turned her head to look at John.

"Scented markers..." John smiled a little.

"I thought you could mark stuff with them, so that you'll know what and where they are! There's 50 different colors." Roxy told her excitedly.

Terezi grinned, showing off her weirdly sharp teeth. "Thanks Roxy. Should I go next?"

"Sure why not?" Roxy smiled.

Slowly Terezi stood up and held up her present, smiling sheepishly. "Babe where's Kanaya?" John took her elbow and carefully lead her around the room over to Kanaya.

"You're my secret Santa?" Kanaya questioned calmly.

"Try not to be too disappointed." She teased, handing over the gift.

Kanaya unwrapped it and her eyes widened. "A-A signed copy of Twilight!?"

"Oh god." Karkat face palmed.

Rose smirked a little. "My my, what a nice gift."

"Not gonna lie, it was really hard to think of something you'd like...but it was worth the effort." Terezi grinned.

"Thank you." Kanaya smiled softly and hugged her.

Terezi sat back down along with John and Kanaya took her gift out and stood up. She went over to Aradia.

"Ooh!" Aradia grinned, taking it from her quickly. She unwrapped it and gasped. It was a safari hat and it had her zodiac symbol on it. 

"I thought you could wear it when you go adventuring next." Kanaya told her simply.

Aradia hugged her and then sat back down. "I love it, thank you." She quickly put it on and looked at Sollux. "What do you think?"

Sollux smirked. "Sexy as always." He pressed a kiss to her neck, making her giggle.

"BLEH!" Karkat gagged obnoxiously, making them look at him. "Yeah hear me?" He did it again.

"Fuck off KK." Sollux stuck his tongue out childishly.

Aradia sighed. "Anyways, it's my turn. Tavros..." She grinned.

"O-Oh?" Tavros' eyes widened as Aradia gestured to the giant gift.

Hesitantly he unwrapped it and opened the box, he gasped.

It was a new wheelchair, and it looked like it was incredibly good quality too.

"It's the best one I could find, it should be much easier to turn and stuff." Aradia explained.

Tavros looked ready to cry. "...Thank you Aradia...please come here so I can hug you..." She giggled softly and went over to hug him gently.

"Okay that's enough." Vriska said when their hug lasted for more than half a second. They broke apart and Aradia sat back down.

"Um...okay...uh...h-here I guess..." Tavros said awkwardly, handing a box to Dave.

Dave smiled. "Aw shucks." He opened it and his eyes widened behind his shades.

"Y-You said your bro kinda trashed your old one?...well uh, now you have a new one..." Tavros explained nervously.

It was a camera, and a really fancy one at that. It was black and had a very good lens. 

"I didn't actually know if uh, you even liked taking pictures anymore? And when I realized I had no idea I felt really bad cause uh, I should probably know something like that and uh...yeah..." He trailed off awkwardly.

Dave bit his lip and seemed to swallow hard before looking at Tavros. "...Thank you, Tavros. Seriously." 

Tavros let out a breath of relief when he realized Dave was pleased with the gift.

"Alright uh, shit man, this is sort of super weird, but uh..." Dave looked at Sollux awkwardly.

Karkat snorted and covered his mouth. "Oh wow."

It wasn't a secret that Karkat and Sollux use to date, everybody knew it. The only reason they even broke up is because Sollux fell for Aradia. But it was partially thanks to comforting Karkat after the break up that he and Dave are together now so... 

Yay?

"Let's get this over with." Sollux deadpanned.

"Sounds good." Dave nodded and quickly handed him a paper.

Sollux looked it over and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You bought me a tree?"

"A tree with a giant beehive in it. You're always saying how bees relax you and how you like time to yourself, well if you're hanging out at that tree then nobodies gonna bug you out of fear of being stung. Thought it could be like your place to go chill when you need to." Dave explained.

At the explanation, a smile started forming on Sollux's lips. "Wow, shit, that's really fucking thoughtful."

"Heh, what can I say, I'm awesome." Dave smirked.

Karkat rolled his eyes at that but didn't say anything.

"It's Christmas what the hell, come on." Sollux opened his arms. Dave shrugged with a smile and hugged him. 

"Gaaaaaayyyy." Vriska whispered loudly, making some of the others laugh.

"Merry Christmas dude." He smiled, Sollux smirked a little at that and broke their hug.

Dave went and sat back down and Sollux went next. "I'll keep this brief. My gift to you John is programming lessons, you're always saying how interested you are but you fucking suck, I mean you're like awful. So Merry Christmas."

"...Thanks?" John said with narrowed eyes, then shook his head. "Feferi...here..." He practically shoved the gift into Feferi's hands.

Feferi smiled and opened it, her eyes widened. It was a purple and orange skirt, and it had her sign on it. "Oh John, it's beautiful."

"Why the fuck are you buying my girl a skirt?" Eridan snapped.

"Because I don't know how to shop for a girl." He deadpanned.

Terezi smirked. "True story, once he bought me binoculars."

Everyone stared at John in disbelief, he flushed red.

"I didn't think it through..."

Feferi giggled and spoke up. "My turn. Here Vriska." Vriska's eyes widened and she smirking, taking the small box from Feferi.

She opened it stared at the gift in confusion, then raised an eyebrow. "Oh...a key..."

"A key to my house, or, our house." Feferi smiled.

"What?" Vriska frowned.

"You're always complaining that you don't have the money to move out of your house and...I-I'm tired of seeing the bruises you have the next day after a fight with your mom. So...I want you to live with me."

Vriska's eyes widened, her mouth fell open a little. "...Wow..."

Everyone stared at them with wide eyes.

"Way to make our gifts look fucking awful Feferi." Sollux commented.

Feferi giggled at that. "...So?" She asked hesitantly.

"...My mom's gonna kill me." Vriska chuckled.

Her eyes widened. "Is that a yes?"

She smirked. "Yeah sure, why not? If you're that desperate for company." Feferi beamed and hugged her tightly, and after a moment Vriska returned the hug.

Vriska sighed. "Okay okay enough mushy crap. Nepeta, Merry Christmas." She smirked.

"Oh god." Equius cringed, feeling very concerned at whatever Nepeta was about to get.

They all watched as Vriska went over to Karkat and mumbled something to him, Karkat hissed something back quietly and they argued like that for a moment before Vriska finally exclaimed loudly. "DO IT!" She hissed.

Karkat reluctantly got up and went over to Nepeta. "...Look Nepeta, I know how you feel about me...and I can't return those feelings, I'm sorry. But...here." Nepeta's eyes widened as Karkat placed his lips over hers. Everyone's jaws dropped.

Nepeta flushed red, eyes sparkling.

He broke the kiss and smiled a little. "Now you can say your first kiss was me, that's what you always wanted right?"

"...Thank you..." Nepeta teared up a little, hugging him tightly. Karkat returned the hug gently. Even if they couldn't be together, at least she got the kiss she always dreamed of, that was enough.

"What the fuck?" Equius snapped.

"Uh yeah right there with you." Dave scowled.

Nepeta was still beaming as she went over to Jade, carrying her gift carefully. "Here you go, be careful."

Jade hesitantly opened the box and gasped as a tiny black puppy jumped out, wagging its tail like crazy. "Oh my god."

"It's so cute..." Roxy gushed.

"This way Bec will have company." Nepeta grinned.

Jade giggled as the puppy licked her face. "Oh my gosh thank you Nepeta, he's adorable."

She gently sat the puppy down and it started playing with the wrapping paper on the floor.

"Okay, my turn. Equius. You're always wishing you had more to share with Nepeta. So as your gift, I'm gonna teach you hopscotch." Everyone's eyes widened.

"YEAHHHH!" Equius exclaimed...happily?

He had a smile on his face. "I WILL MASTER THIS CAME FOR NEPETA!" Nepeta stared with wide eyes.

When Equius calmed down, he gave Rose his gift. Enjoy."

Rose stared at the photo Equius handed her with a blank face, making everyone confused.

Slowly she started blushing, making them even more confused.

"What is it?" Kanaya frowned.

A ghost of a smile formed on Rose's lips. "Just something for me to enjoy."

Vriska glanced over at the picture and snorted. "Oh wow, that's a treat."

Aradia looked over to and snickered. "Oh, a treat it is."

"What is it?" Kanaya pouted when Rose held it away from her.

"Merry Christmas." Equius told her calmly.

Rose smiled. "Merry Christmas. Now then, Jane." Jane's eyes widened as Rose handed her a bag.

She took out the tissue paper and looked inside, gasping.

It was cookie cutters, one shaped  like each of them.

"This way you can think of us when you're baking." Rose smiled.

"Oh my gosh these are so cute." Jane grinned, taking out the cutter shaped like Tavros.

While the two were talking, Kanaya took the picture from rose quickly. Her face flushed red and her jaw dropped.

It was a picture of her, but she was laid on a bed completely naked, looking at the camera seductively.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Kanaya hissed in embarrassment.

"How did you even make that?" Feferi questioned with amusement.

"Lots of photo shop." Equius explained.

Nepeta frowned. "But you know nothing about that."

They all looked at Dave.

"Fuck no, that's weird." Dave shuddered at the thought of making something like that for his cousin.

Sollux rolled his eyes. "For fucks sake I made it."

"Impressive." Aradia told him.

"Okay, my turn," Jane spoke up, making them all look at her. She took a deep breath and looked at Dirk. "I...had no idea what to get you...I thought about it for a long time...and I realized I didn't know you as well as I wanted too...and that made me really sad...but then I thought 'what is the most important thing in the world to Dirk?' and well..." Jane held out a small box.

Dirk took it hesitantly and opened it, staring at it silently. "...A necklace?"

Jane giggled. "A locket," She corrected. "Open it."

He opened it like she said and his eyes widened behind his shades. One of the photos was of him, Jake, Jane and Roxy grinning, and the other was of him and Dave smiling.

"You care about all of us...but I know you care about us especially...we've known each other all our lives...I'm sorry I didn't realize how much you cared till now." Jane told him softly.

Jake teared up. "Where is the tissues!?" Vriska chucked the box at him hard, but he didn't care about the pain and wiped at his  eyes.

The locket was gold and shaped like a heart. Letting out a shaky breath, Dirk spoke. "...Wow...thanks, Crocker."

Jane smiled softly as Dirk put the necklace on and then put it behind his tank top. She would bet money that he'll never take it off unless he has too.

"Okay uh, shit, I guess I'm up...god..." Dirk took a deep breath before looking at Karkat. "Sorry in advance if you hate it."

Karkat's eyes widened. He hesitantly took the box from Dirk and opened it, his face turned sour. "...A pair of shades?"

"Strider's have shades, we all do. Even Roxy and Rose who are only our cousins each own a pair, even though they never wear them." Dirk explained.

He frowned. "...Why did you give me this?"

"...All Strider's have shades...and I know that's gonna include you someday." Dirk smiling knowingly as he looked at Dave and Karkat.

Karkat blinked, and slowly the implications of the gift registered in his mind

He flushed bright red. "HOLY SHIT-"

"Wow uh, that's no fucking pressure at all-" Dave stuttered, going red himself.

Dirk held back a chuckle as the two tried to collect themselves.

"Well fuck, my gift is totally lame now, but uh, here. Merry fucking Christmas." Karkat shoved the gift into Roxy's hands.

She beamed and opened it quickly, eyes widening.

It was a scrapbook, every page was filled with photos of them all hanging out, some including all of them and then a bunch of different groups of them.

"You're always bringing us together for shit like this...so you deserve to have the most memories of us." Karkat told her in a grumble.

A tear slid down Roxy's cheek and Karkat paled.

"Holy fuck no-" Roxy hugged him tightly as she cried.

"SOMEBODY MAKE IT STOP!" Karkat shrieked as she cried harder. 

Everyone just smiled and watched them silently, despite Karkat's cries for help.

"This is the best gift I've ever gotten." Roxy sniffed, smiling brightly as tears rolled down her face. "Thank you so much." Without warning she pressed a kiss to Karkat's cheek, making his eyes widen.

"Uh, so what do we do now? You've already gone Roxy." Vriska frowned.

"I'll just go." Jake spoke up, they all nodded. He smiled and looked at  Eridan sheepishly.

"I tried to think of something to give you...and I know how much you like bossing people around. So...for one week, I'll be your assistant."

Eridan's eyes widened. "My assistant?"

"I'll do whatever you want, whenever you want, as long as it's not illegal or hurts my relationship with Dirk." Jake smiled.

He smirked. "Interesting, I like it, very useful," His smirk morphed into a smile. "I guess I'll go next." 

Everyone watched as Eridan took out a six pack of beer, making their jaws drop, he gave it to Gamzee. "There ya go."

Gamzee's eyes widened. "Yes...." He said in a weird whisper.

"Where did you get that?" Karkat questioned.

"My dad." Eridan smirked.

Gamzee looked at Jake with a lazy smile. "Merry motherfucking Christmas my man...enjoy this tasty treat." He handed three books to Jake.

Jake stared at them. "...You bought me guy on guy porn?"

"Hell yeah motherfucker...thought they could inspire you for your bedroom times..."

"Interesting." Dirk immedientally picked one up when he said that, skimming through it. Jake smacked him on the back of the head and took the book back.

Roxy grinned. "I think this went better than we all expected."

"Hell yeah." Dave grinned, playing with his camera. He took a picture of them all.

"Merry Christmas guys." John smiled.

The others all smiled, at least a little bit. "Merry Christmas!"

[writethelifeyouwant]

Make Him Look - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: flirting, many many drinks, jealousy, dancing, slow burn Word Count: 3k Created for: @walker-bingo - In Vino Veritas | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Jealousy A/N: Written with the lovely @thinkinghardhardlythinking in mind ❤️and y'all can also blame her for the fact it got so long I split it into two 😂

Cordell swings his leg over a barstool and settles into his usual spot. The bar is busy but not crowded. There’s a few more empty stools awaiting occupants for the night, and Cordell hooks one with his foot and draws it closer, popping his hat down to save the seat for Liam, who’s on his way. But there’s no reason to wait for Liam before he orders – they get the same thing every time.

“Barkeep! Can I get some queso, hot wings, and whatever Pinthouse you’ve got on draft?”

“Sure thing, man,” the kid behind the bar drawls, his accent thick and voice lazy. Cordell would bet anything the guy had had a joint on his break earlier, but he’s off duty – tonight is not about busting people for drugs, tonight is about letting loose. He checks his phone to see if Liam had texted him that he’d left the office yet, but there is nothing there. Taking a sip of the drink that has just been plopped on a coaster in front of him, Cordell scans the room. It’s a bad habit that every law enforcement worker he’s ever met has developed. Even when he’s trying to relax and blow off some steam, he can’t help being a little vigilant.

He takes in the tableaus around him; the groups of kids from the local community college, the gaggle of mid to late aged men in awful polos that Cordell recognises as the inner city bowling league, a couple of less savoury looking guys playing pool, the cluster of women those guys keep eyeing up – he’ll keep an eye on that one.

Checking his phone again and taking another drink, he still hasn’t heard anything from Liam. He opens his brother’s contact and is about to give him a call to tell him to get his ass in gear when someone suddenly reaches down beside him, picks up his hat and drops it back on his head while they slide into the seat he’d been saving - except it’s not Liam.

“Hey you,” the stranger says familiarly, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

You shrug out of your jacket and sling it over your arm as you head up to the worn wood counter of the bar. You don’t see your friend yet, so you decide to go ahead and order a drink while you wait for her to show. She’s always late, you should have just assumed and shown up fifteen minutes from now. You play on your phone as you wait for the bartender to finish serving the gang of people at the other end of the bar. When you feel someone in front of you, you look up, about to order a glass of wine, except one is already being placed on the bar top in front of you.

You stare questioningly at the kid serving you the drink. You’d been here before, sure, but you’re hardly a regular, and even if you were you don’t recognise this server – so why does he know what you were about to order?

“Um, I didn’t–” you start but the kid interrupts you.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar, milady,” he gave a geeky little bow, “Sorry, he told me to say it like that,” he grimaces at himself. You chance a fleeting look back to the group you’d noticed him serving a few minutes ago and to your horror, you recognise your ex, Dirk, grinning back at you. He tips the brim of his ball cap and gives you a wink, like he’s expecting you to be impressed that he remembers you drink red wine. Shit, this is not how this night is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be here to get drunk with your best friend and have a bit of a dance, not be looking over your shoulder the whole night hoping that jerk leaves you alone.

Panicking a little now, you check your phone but there’s no text from Lea telling you when to expect her. Knowing her like you do, you would bet anything she won’t be here soon, and you don’t want to wait on your own and risk Dirk coming to talk to you. Desperately, you scan your eyes around the bar, cataloguing your options and escape routes. Someone catches your eye a few seats along from where you are. Tall, broad – dark and handsome, your mind supplies unhelpfully – but what really catches your eye is the badge hanging from his belt. He’s a Ranger.

Normally, you’d pick a group of girls who you know would happily pretend to know you so you don’t have to wait alone but you know Dirk, and you know he won’t be shy enough to let any number of girls stop him from coming to ruin your night. But a guy - and a Texas Ranger at that – Dirk wouldn’t dare. He had an outstanding DUI, and he’d always been a bit of a chicken around cops anyways.

Choice made, you grab the wine he’d bought you – hey, you’re not made of money, free booze is free booze – and you march purposefully over to the Ranger, who’s checking his phone and not paying attention until you grab his black cowboy hat off the chair next to him. Clearly he had been saving it for someone, and you want Dirk to think that someone is you.

“Hey you,” you chirp, placing his hat back on his head as you slide into the seat he’d been saving, “Thanks for saving me a seat.” You smile at the Ranger long enough to see him looking at you completely perplexed before you glance back to Dirk and see him watching you with a scowl. You let yourself feel inwardly triumphant and turn back to the man you’d just decided to befriend, if only temporarily.

Swivelling back towards him, you let yourself get a good look at his face for the first time. His bright hazel eyes are staring back at you, confused but not unkind. Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely apt, and now you’re seeing him properly you’re a bit speechless. You hadn’t counted on him being this freakin’ attractive.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to choke out under your breath. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, I’m just hiding from my ex,” you explain, and understanding melts across the man’s face.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sympathetically.

“Just pretend like you know me until my friend gets here?” you propose hopefully.

“Happy to,” he smiles, grabbing his drink and holding it out to clink against your wine glass. You tap your glass against his, relief flooding your body as you settle onto your stool a little more comfortably.

“Thank you…” you trail off leadingly, hoping he’ll fill in his name.

“Cordell,” he supplies.

“Now there is a Texan name if I ever heard one,” you giggle.

“If you’re gonna laugh at my name do I at least get the chance to laugh at yours too?” he grins jokingly.

“Y/N,” you give him your name, tucking your hair behind your ear and taking a sip of your wine.

“Well that’s no fun, how can I tease you for such a pretty name?” Cordell takes a sip of his own drink, mirroring you. Jeez, this one is a smooth talker.

-

When you finish your glass of wine, probably a little quicker than normal due to your anxious state, you check your phone again and see a missed call from Lea. “Crap,” you sigh, drawing a concerned look from Cordell, who is happily munching away on some chips and queso next to you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, muffled, mouth still full of food.

“Yeah, s’just my friend bailing on me,” you gripe, listening to the voicemail she’d left on your phone a few minutes ago. “Sorry I gate crashed your night for nothing,” you apologise, popping your phone back in your bag and planning on just going home to turn in early and watch some junky tv show in bed now that your ‘girls night’ wasn’t happening.

“Hey, you aren’t gate crashing.” Cordell shrugs, like he’s hedging his bets with his next statement. “I’ve had a good time so far.” His smile is shy and sincere, and you soften just a little in your annoyance at the world.

“I totally am though, you were clearly waiting for someone,” you gesture to the stool you’d taken up residence on.

“Just my work-a-holic brother, who, as luck would have it–” Cordell pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up to show the message on the lock screen “–also pulled out on me.”

“Oh,” you blink, not sure what to make of that. It sounds like he’s asking you to stay but… “Well, thank you for being my knight in shining armour for a bit, seriously, but I don’t really want to stick around just to have my ex looking at me all night.”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a creep and keep watching you all night, we could make that fun, give him something to watch,” Cordell offers, his smirk incongruous with the almost hopeful expression in his eyes.

“What?” You’re perplexed.

“I mean, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s pretty obvious to me that he wants you back, and you seem pretty pissed at him for that. I’m guessing the bastard cheated on you?” You huff in response, a little bitter that he’d read the situation so easily.

“Yeah, he did,” you admit, slumping against the bar, feeling downtrodden at the memory.

“So don’t let him chase you off,” Cordell shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He messed you around – you tellin’ me you wouldn’t like to mess with him right back?” he raises an eyebrow in temptation, a knowing smirk twitching at his lips.

“And you’re proposing that instead of not wanting him to look at me all night–”

“You make him look,” Cordell finishes your sentence for you. “We’ve already pretended to know each other for the past–” he checks his watch “–twenty minutes. May as well just do the whole pretend date.” Cordell looks at you with so much honesty, you believe that he really does just want to help you screw with Dirk. And you cannot say the idea isn’t appealing.

“Alright,” you concede, shaking your head slightly in disbelief that you’re actually agreeing to this, and Cordell’s face splits into a wide smile. Honestly, seeing that expression alone made agreeing to this worth it. “So, if we’re on a pretend date, you gonna pretend to buy me another drink?”

“No,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently.

“C’mon,” Cordell chides, grinning madly.

“I did not agree to this,” you shake your head, finishing off the last bit of wine in your glass.

“Come on,” he urges again, leaning against the bar and tilting his head close to yours pleadingly.

“I am not dancing,” you repeat, wholeheartedly meaning it. You think if you have to come into genuine skin to skin contact with Cordell, you might actually melt into a puddle. Now three glasses of wine into your fake date, you can feel yourself loosening up and really enjoying yourself with this handsome stranger. He’s kind, and funny, and a little weird but in a charming way – exactly your type. And him begging you to dance with him wasn’t helping your self-restraint. This is a fake date, you keep reminding yourself firmly every time he flashes you that little half smile that makes his eyes light up.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of boring fake dates you usually go on, but mine aren’t complete unless I get to show off my two-step and knock back a tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing tequila now, are we?” You laugh – this guy is actually ridiculous, and you kind of love it.

“That wasn’t a no,” he jumps on your ‘non denial’ and waves at the kid behind the bar. “Two tequilas, two limes?” he holds up two fingers and the bartender nods to him, quickly pouring out the shots and dropping two lime wedges onto a plate. Cordell grabs a salt shaker from the condiments rack on the bar and sets everything up between you. You let him work, watching incredulously but enjoying the show nonetheless.

“Give me your hand,” he holds out his own hand expectantly once he’s arranged all the pieces to his liking.

“Why?” your voice is nervous but your hand reaches out instantly of its own accord. Without answering he proceeds to rub the edge of the lime over the inside of your wrist, then puts the lime in your fingers and shakes some salt over the trail of juice he left behind. He does the same thing to himself, then passes you your shot, which you take in your lime-free hand.

“Right, you wanna do this the normal way or the ‘make Dirk jealous way’?” Cordell asks with a smirk once he’s oriented himself.

“I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s the ‘make Dirk jealous’ way?” you groan exaggeratedly, like he’s put some great burden on you, but the truth is you’re really enjoying yourself.

“Like this,” Cordell steps up to you and links your right arms together. Catching his drift you smile and try to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up inside you – a nervous reaction to feeling the warmth of his body against yours, even through the layer of his shirt. “One, two, three,” he counts off and you go to lick the salt off your wrist except that’s what Cordell is doing. You freeze momentarily, heat shooting up your arm from where his tongue and lips are laving over your skin. You don’t think to move until Cordell puts his own wrist against your lips and you lick obediently.

Your linked arms pull you closer together as Cordell lifts the tequila to his lips and you follow suit in a kind of trance, both knocking back your shots. The tequila hits you harder than you remember it ever doing before, and you scrunch up your face, disoriented for a moment until you once again feel Cordell’s lips on your skin. This time they’re wrapping around your finger tips as he sucks the lime into his mouth. You stand frozen, the burn in your mouth and your fingers meeting in your chest and ratcheting up your heart rate as if you’re trying to run away from the oncoming flames. But it’s hopeless, you’re stuck in the blaze now.

“You want your lime, darlin’?” Cordell laughs at your stock still frame and holds his fingers to your lips, gently pressing the fruit inside and urging you to suck. You’re sure you must have physically combusted into fire by now, but Cordell isn’t jumping away like he’s been singed – he’s pressing closer. “Dance with me,” he rasps, voice hoarse from the burn of the alcohol. It’s not a request anymore, it’s an order, and you don’t question it.

Drawing his hand down the arm of yours linked with his until your fingers lace together, he pulls you away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. It’s an upbeat country song, the kind you’d normally jump around to, but he pulls you in and wraps an arm around your waist like a proper partner dance calls for – except he’s ignored the social convention of leaving room for Jesus. He pulls you after him in tiny circles and you let him lead happily. When the song changes to something a little slower he pulls you just a little tighter, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your gaze off his shoulder up to his face.

His eyes dart over your shoulder, then smile down at you wryly, and you feel yourself blush. “He’s watching,” Cordell grins mischievously. You go to look but he puts a hand on your neck and holds you still, keeping your eyes on him. His fingers are strong and warm against your collarbone, ironically causing you to shiver. “No, don’t look at him,” his voice is low as he leans in conspiratorially, “you wanna make him look, remember?”

“Why are you helping me?” The alcohol swimming through your veins is making you comfortable and fuzzy, and you let yourself lean against him familiarly, your head resting against his chest as he continues to move you both around the dance floor. You feel him shrug as his grips on your hand and the nape of your neck tighten a little.

“The truth?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice, even if you can’t see them on his face.

“No, I want you to lie to me, please,” your voice manages to stay serious through the end of the joke before you burst into giggles, and you feel your laughter move into his body and trigger his own, making his chest rise and fall unevenly beneath your cheek.

“You are one hell of a gal, you know that?” You’re glad your face is buried in his chest so he can’t see just how brightly you smile at the compliment. “Truth is, I’ve been trying to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.” You can tell by how expressionless his voice has gone that he’s winding you up, but you pull back and slap your hand to your chest in mock horror.

“Well Cordell Walker, I have never met such a rogue in my life,” you gasp in your best Scarlet O’Hara accent. It’s not a good one. Neither of you can keep a straight face for more than a few seconds, and you both double over in laughter after your minuscule standoff.

As your laughter dies down, Cordell grabs your hands again and pulls you back to him, swaying entirely out of time to the song that’s playing. He looks like he’s about to say something but the words haven’t quite found their way to his tongue, and when you catch his eyes you suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say and you pull away from him. He looks at you, puzzled and just the slightest bit hurt as you try to find some cover for your sudden movement.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a bourbon fan, would you?”

Part 2 Here!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67

All Walker: @lovealways-j @delightfullykrispypeach @stoneyggirl @thinkinghardhardlythinking @sams-sass @walkersbabygirl

[hongjoongtrasher]

the beauty and the beast (chapter 2)

word count: 5k around

angst, fluff, smut

triger warnings: mention of child abuse, violence etc.

series masterlist

Synopsis:

When you move to a new city due to your father's job, you don't expect to stay for a long and so decided not to get attached to the world around you.

But still, you are "the new girl", unwillingly attracting people's attention because of your family's background. Your strict father expects a lot from you, not to say perfection. And when you are sit next to a certain Jung Yunho, you didn't expect your life to take a radical turn

Yunho always have been hating wealthy people. Or just people who were boasting about all the damn money they had and he hadn’t. Oh maybe it was childish to hate richer than himself, but he didn’t hate them for no reasons. He always felt disgusted by their pity, the way they would just «burn some cash » because they could, because they had too much. He concluded every rich guy was like this, and you weren’t an exception. At the very moment his eyes landed on your person, he could instantly feel this familiar aura. A daddy’s girl, probably richer than everyone’s parents in this school. And just the fact of you sitting next to him was driving him crazy.

He ignored you all the time. And he was glad in a way you didn’t try to talk to him, because he would have snapped all his hatred he was feeling towards people like you. But for a fact, he could admit that you weren’t acting like other rich kids around. The way you flinched when his friend was about to lift his hand at you, also the fact you were lonelier than he thought. Oh yes he indeed noticed you being the silent girl around, and at first he thought it was because you were the new girl, and that it was just a facade and soon or later you would just boast like the others.

It’s already been two weeks since you arrived here and yet you were as quiet as usual. You tried to acclimatize to every thing but as the good girl you were, your father thought it was a good opportunity for you to get into extra classes. Last night, you came back home near midnight, exhausted by this long day after studying like crazy. That’s why you didn’t even care to look at Yunho this morning when you sat down, as usual not peeping a word to him since the incident on the rooftop. Actually you tried to flip over and over again the same problem. Why he hated you this much ? But after some days, you understood he was hating every one the same way. Skipping classes, or when he was making act of presence just sleeping on his desk became the routine but today he was here. You quietly opened your bag to settle your pencils and workbooks. Yunho’s back facing you while he was probably taking a nap. Your English teacher came and when she started the class, she stated. « Alright guys, today you’ll be paired up. I want you to improvise a short sketch with what you learnt this past week. Just pair up with your neighbor. You have fifteen minutes »

Your eyes widened at her statement as you felt your heart throbs violently into your chest. Being in a team with Yunho was probably the last thing you thought which could become true today. And speaking of him, you heard a groan next to you, making you freezing as he slowly turned to you before staring at you.

« Just telling you, I don’t have a clue of what she said, so don’t expect me to do well »

How nonchalant he was at this moment almost made you scoff.

« You should have been here then. » you groaned back while opening your notebook.

His brows quirked at how you answered to him.

« Someone got more brave huh ? » he said before straightening on his chair and looked at the textbook of yours on your desk and took it to read the last two pages to your astonishment.

« Didn’t bring it, so I’ll just use yours. » he explained as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

« Great. » you answered and just scribbles some words on a page. You didn’t want to waste your time for such a jerk like him? At least you would have done your task by yourself, just for yourself and not him. You couldn’t let Yunho drag your grades down…You couldn’t just relax yourself.

Some silence installed between you two while others students were trying to do the task your teacher asked, but instead, Yunho took time to actually look at you. Somehow you looked exhausted, non to say to the verge of fainting. Your lips were pale, and dirk circles could be seen under your eyes.

« Didn’t sleep well last night ? » he asked randomly as he pretended to read the book under his eyes.

You badly wanted to ignore him. What the heck ? Just few weeks ago he openly said he hated you so you just accepted this fact and now he was chatting like you as nothing happened ?

« Studied late » you answered drily.

« Ha, I see you went to those extra classes which are costing your butt’s skin. »

You offered him a dark glare, making him look into your eyes. If course he wasn’t attending any of this, so he couldn’t really understand the situation you were in.

« And ? Is it going to change your life ? »

He shrugged.

« No, but I guess you’re a hardcore student » he hummed before he took his pencil to write down some words on his own paper. « Must be so boring » he added mockingly.

You wanted to answer back to him and spit how rude he was from the first place. You acknowledged the fact your life was boring as fuck, you were the first one to say it, but there were limits to making fun of this matter. Soon your teacher clapped her hands to catch everyone’s attention.

« Alright guys, it’s time. Who want to go first ? »

It was the usual game of « I don’t know what you’re saying », essentially based on avoid your teachers’ eyes and doing as you was busy enough not to make her choosing you. Your teacher smirked. « I see everyone’s eager to go, soooo…Y/N and Yunho, you go first. »

You panicked a bit, because except this little conversation you both hadn’t talked at all about your coed work. But Yunho didn’t seem bothered by this at all and stood up with his paper and just nudged your shoulder so you could stand up and go to the front with him. What was he playing at ?

Actually you thought Yunho was someone who didn’t give a shit to studies. His consecutive absences were not helping for his case but surprisingly, he opened the sketch with a good English. So good that you were surprised, making you go blank for a second. He looked at you before moving his lips silently « Y/N. » You shook your head and continued this weird play. At the end, your teacher seemed satisfied by your work and allowed you to go back to your sits so the next pair could go on.

When you sat down again, you looked at Yunho again.

« I thought you would’t do well » you mumbled.

He laughed lowly and it troubled you. It was the first time you heard him laugh. The first time he wasn’t showing hostility to you.

« You may think I’m a lazy ass, but I got some things stocked in this » he whispered, pointing at his head before leaning back on his chair.

Classes ended soon for the usual lunch break. Yunho got up and got out of the room without a word for you, as usual. Today you decided to stay into the classroom to eat. You never went back on the rooftop since you met the three boys. As you were unpacking the lunchpack you got from Sookja, you just took some time to think about this morning. Was Yunho being nice to you a sign to be more suspicious of him ? You were into your thought when you heard a voice calling your name.

« Y/N ? »

You looked up and saw a girl standing at your desk.

« Huh…Yeah ? »

She smiled to you and said.

« I’m Jisoo, erm…we’re in the same class and…I…Would you like to eat lunch with me ? » she asked shyly.

You were flustered by this sudden proposition. It was the first time someone was reaching out for you since you were in this school. Jason was a petite girl, with shorts hair and pink round cheeks. She looked nice so you couldn’t say no.

« Of course, but…mh, are you sure ? I’m not a good company » you confessed, embarrassed by this.

« I figured out you were eating alone every day and mhhh, I…just want to know you better you see ? I mean, don’t get me wrong ! I’m not approaching you because you’re the newbie or rich girl around ! »

You chuckled at her answer and made some space for her to eat your lunch on this tight desk.

« Thanks…actually I don’t feel like eating with a lot of people » you mumbled, peeling a boiled egg.

Jisoo looked surprised by your statement.

« Why not ? Well, people aren’t trying neither but…It would be a pity to let you out right ? You seem nice, so… »

Jisoo unpacked her own pink lunchbox where cherry tomatoes and egg roll and others nice things were lying inside.

« That’s cute ! Are you cooking it yourself ? » you said, trying to make a conversation.

She nodded with a proud smirk.

« Yes ! I like cooking, but since I’d pack too much I’m doing basic things. You ? Looks good as well. »

« Mh…Actually I don’t know how to cook » you answered uneasily.

« Oh must be your mom then ? »

It was a slippery subject, but since Jason made the genuine effort to come and talk to you, you didn’t feel like making up lies.

« I don’t have a mom…Huh, I mean I have one, but my parents divorced when I was little and…never seen her since » you mumbled, eating piece of kimchi.

Jisoo’s expression went bad and you could easily know why, so you quickly said.

« It’s fine, don’t worry, I don’t try to see her neither so I’m used to. Instead we have a housekeeper. She’s making my lunch every day, so I guess it’s like a mom. »

« Oh…I’m sorry still. I didn’t know »

You gave her a comforting smile as you two ate your lunch peacefully, getting to know each other’s better.

« Say, I saw you this morning with Yunho… Is he nice with you ? » asked Jisoo out of the blue.

You almost had forgotten about your gloomy classmate, so you hummed in hesitation.

« He’s a jerk, the first day I arrived he just openly said he hates me » you groaned, packing back your empty box.

« He hates every one outta here » Jisoo added, not seemed surprised. « But…there are a lot of rumours about him » she said lowly as if she was scared someone would overhear her words.

You arched a brow, curious about those said rumours.

« What kind of rumours ? »

« He’s fighting a lot with other people, basically a bad boy. You’ve seen it already, but he’s skipping classes a lot and no one really knows what he’s doing. » Jisoo explained. « I’ve never seen him hitting someone myself, but …be careful ? I don’t want him to hurt you or anyone else around »

Was he this terrible ? The image of Yunho laughing this morning was still lingering into your head. So you just nodded at her advice. It was almost time for classes again so Jisoo left you and friendly waved her hand at you before going back to her desk while other people were coming back. You expected Yunho to skip class again, but surprisingly his tall figure appeared before the bell rang. He got back to his desk and again laid his head on the desk, ignoring you in the process.

It was Korean history class, and it would be a lie to say it was boring as hell. Although you were still taking notes of every thing, Yunho was still acting like a dead body. He didn’t say a word to you for the rest of the day. And at 5pm sharp, you got out from school to go to your extra classes. You’re still drained from your day, and the idea to study more was giving you a headache. By chance, you were allowed to go alone there, taking the bus.

That’s how Yunho saw you walking to the bus stop while he was going to his motorbike, helmet in his hand. You were a weird girl. Never before he got interested into a girl, all being the same when it comes to approach him for his bad boy vibe like. Bullshit. He hated those childish girls, but surprisingly you didn’t have this side into your attitude. Again, Yunho was shocked to think about you from time to time. « Get yourself back Jung Yunho » his conscious told him before he saw the bus passing by his eyes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days were flying by and your first mock exams were coming at the corner. You had worked like a slave for this days, sleeping few hours a night to study more and more, the menacing shadow of your father planning above your head. Jisoo was eating lunch with you every day since. You girl got closer after few days and you considered her like your friend. She was the first person to hear about your familial situation and the gape, or more the ravine between you and your father. You must say it was a relief to be able to confess every thing to someone exterior to your house.

Jisoo seemed pissed off when you told her you were used not to get attached to people due to you moving almost every year to another city.

« That’s so awful ! » she cried, grabbing the carton of fruit juice you got from the machine.

« Yeah…My father is a stone cold asshole » you mumbled, the straw between your lips.

« Girl, when exams are over, let’s have fun alight ? Fight me if your father says no ! »

Jisoo was so cute. You couldn’t imagine this little girl tossing her fists at your father, but somehow the image was funny. That’s how you promised you would.

This day again you had to go to extra classes, and today was really a day you wished someone would ditch you from this living hell. Waiting at the bus stop, you were spacing out when you heard the sound of a roaring engine before it stopped right before you. The man on the moto lifted the smoked visor on his helmet to reveal his face. You heart stopped when you recognise Yunho. You didn’t know you he could drive such a thing but he seemed proud of it as he smirked to you.

« Need a drive ma’am ? » he asked.

What the fucking hell ? One day he was ignoring you like a ghost and another day he was talking to you and now proposing you to ride his moto ?

« Wha- I don’t understand, what are you trying to do here ? » you groaned back as he stabilised himself and just throw at you another helmet.

« Wear this. » he ordered without answering your question.

You looked at him in hesitation. Was he serious ? Or was he trying to drag you into another salty problem ? As he could read into your head, he rolled his eyes.

« I won’t throw you over a bridge you know ? »

« Huh…So tell me what are you trying to do ? I’m utterly sick of your hot and cold game. One day you’re saying you’re hating me, fine. And another one you’re actually trying to convince me to ride on a motorbike with you. »

« Get on, we’ll talk later » he groaned, glaring at you which intimated you.

Soon enough you were at the back of the motorbike, and before he drove, he took your arm to make you hug his waist tightly.

« Don’t ever let it go. If we fall I’d rather you fall with me than the motorbike » he explained.

You were about to protest, but he drove, making you instantly hold him tightly. It was the first time you were being driven on a moto, and the air going through your hair, the warmth of Yunho’s back against your chest was a total discovery for you. You were scared, not to say terrified. But Yunho was really driving carefully, although he liked to make his engine roar when the road was clear. When you weren’t scared enough to focus on his back only, you tried to see where he was going, and soon recognise the way to your extra classes. How did he know ? After some more minutes of furious roars, he stopped in front of a building you could recognise. He waited for you to get off the engine so he could as well get off.

Taking off the helmet you took a giant breath, your heart beating like crazy.

« How was the ride ? » he asked in a tease, watching you regaining strength.

« You’re crazy. Absolutely crazy » you hissed, shoving his helmet in his arms. « And how did you know it was here I was going ? »

Yunho couldn’t tell you he once followed you until there. Actually, he didn’t know himself why he had followed you, but after some days when he came back there, he saw your figure through a window, totally exhausted almost dozing on your work. Something made him stay here for a while, just watching you from afar this day. You were the representation of what he hated the most, and yet you were just a normal girl, acting like a normal girl. Moreover you looked so tired every day, and he was just wondering until how far you’d push yourself to be this perfect student.

« I just figured it out when I came one the neighbourhood with Hongjoong and some friends. We are hanging out quite a lot here» he grumbled. It wasn’t really a lie right ? Hongjoong and Yeosang were living in this area, so they were meeting quite a lot after classes in the neighbourhood.

You rolled your eyes before staring at him in confusion. Why was he being nice all of the sudden ?

Anyway, you needed to go, having enough of this nonsense.

« Thanks for the ride, but don’t hope to get me on this bike from hell any sooner » you groaned before taking your lead inside the building, not paying a look at your classmate.

Yunho smirked and shook his head.

« Bike from hell… »

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours passed, and when the clock showed around ten, classes ended. You sighed and rubbed your eyes from exhaustion, slowly getting out the building to see the motorbike was still here. But not Yunho. Looking around, you tried to see if he was around. Seemed he was not. While admiring his black shiny engine, you got lost in your inner thought again. It was so strange for him to act this kindly but none without saying dangerously toward you. And the fact he discovered where you were studying was still a mystery for you, not totally convinced by the total luck of him running on this place.

« It’s maybe a bike from hell, but still pretty right ? » a voice exclaimed at you, making you jump.

Yunho was back, a bag in his hand from the CU, the nearby convenient store. You crunched up your nose. Why was he still here ?

« I met the guys, and was about to go home. » he explained again as if he could read your thought.

« Oh what a coincidence ! » you mimicked still not convinced if he was lying or not.

« Y/N I’m not lying, Hongjoong literally lives two blocks away from here. » he said seriously.

You sighed and turned around to leave. But when you walked past way his position he asked in a relax tone:

« I got some ice cream, want some ? »

It was going from dumb and dumber. Seriously you couldn’t put a finger on his weird behaviour. With a suspicious look you were about to say no, but he cut you.

« Your brain needs sugar. It’s past ten, and you’ve been studying for four hours straight. I guess you didn’t have diner too huh. »

« And what does it concern you ? » you snapped, turning to face him. « It’s not as if you would be this concerned for someone you hate right ? I don’t understand Yunho, I don’t understand you and your attitude. »

Yunho bite his lower lip, knowing himself he got in a weird situation.

« Yeah I know I said I hated people like you, but I didn’t say I hated you » he mumbled.

There was this embarrassing silent again, only the noises of the city filling the icy atmosphere between you.

« People like me. What do you mean ? Did I do something wrong to deserve this attitude ? » you crossed your arms, decided to cleared this shit.

Yunho felt uneasy to talk about it, but somehow he didn’t want to stay in a bad relationship with you. Instead, he took a ice cream from the bag and handled it to you.

« Eat, I will explain it to you after. » he mumbled, looking away.

You gave him a glance but finally took the ice cream, your stomach making you remember you were starving at the moment. It was a vanilla strawberry ice cream. You almost laughed by seeing this.

« Didn’t know you had so girlish tastes » you said ironically putting the ice cream into your mouth.

« I got mine, what do you mean ? I knew you would maybe get out at this hour and I just felt like buying you this » he justified himself by taking his own ice cream, green tea flavoured.

You both sat down on the empty academy’ stairs to eat your ice creams in silence. There were so much questions you wanted to ask, trying to figure out how to deal with him.

« I’m living alone with my mom. My dad and her divorced when I was ten or something. He was violent dude and was hitting my mom, so he got arrested by the police when the neighbours got fed up by the every day fights. But the thing is…we always had financial problems because of this bastard. He borrowed money from loan sharks, an astronomical amount and got my mom in trouble even after he got arrested. » said Yunho, blankly staring at the floor.

All you could do was listening to him. Surprisingly, you never imagined something this horrible would have happened to him.

« My mom sold everything she had to give the money back, so we lost our house and now we’re living in a small studio. Even though she’s working, her salary is just enough to cover the rent and the rest is going to those loan sharks. »

His voice was weak, almost silent as he felt his barriers falling down. He looked so fragile, his broad shoulders shuddering slowly, his dark hair covering his eyes. You felt your heart sinking at his reflection.

« Of course I wanted to help her as soon as I could get a job, getting some part time jobs but she wants me to focus on school. » he laughed bitterly, watching his ice cream melting. « I’ve soon been taught that school wasn’t going to make things better. And people knowing about my family matters were just doing things out of pity for us. It drove me crazy. I hate people boasting about how nice it is to have money, how nice it is to be a normal happy family and just feel the others like shit. »

That’s how you figured out why Yunho hated rich people. And how he probably thought you were the same as the others he could have seen before. The bitterness you were feeling towards him vanished in an instant. How such a tough guy like him could appear so broken ? How hard must it have been for him all those years ?

« I…I’m sorry. » you muttered, not really knowing how to carry on.

« No, it’s fine. I’m aware you’re from a wealthy fam, but I figured out you weren’t like those bitches gossiping around. » he said, taking back some composure as he ate a part of the leaking ice cream.

« But…How are you doing ? I mean, are you eating correctly ? » you asked, genuinely worried about his health at the moment.

He chuckled and looked at you.

« My grand parents are supporting us. » he said, ruffling his hair with his hand. « The only time I worked during summer break, they refused the money. That’s how I got my moto »

There was another long pause, before you felt the cold liquid from your ice cream falling on your hand, making you yelp in surprise. Yunho smirked and laughed lightly, watching you fighting with your ice cream.

« Eat, I’ll drive you back home…If you let me to, I mean » he said, rubbing his nape after finishing his own snack.

« Alright, but don’t even think of doing the rodeo on the way back. » you grumbled and get on.

Once again on Yunho’s motorbike, you watched the city streaming before your eyes, neons of all colours leaving particular marks in the dark night. The cold air now hitting your body made you hug Yunho’s tighter. You didn’t know how to feel towards him. But you understood the situations he got through and up until now, you thought you’d have done the same if you had to be in the same game. But it wasn’t a game. You knew Yunho wasn’t a real bad guy. Things forced him to do tough tasks. You were ready to forgive him, as long as he promised at least to be this hostile to you.

When you arrived near your big complex, you made sign to Yunho to stop right before the actual building. He turned the engine off and let you get off his moto. Taking off the helmet, you gave it back to him but he stopped you.

« Keep it. »

« What ? But .. »

« It won’t be the last time you will get on this Y/N » he said with a smirk. « But anyway, why did you make me drop you here ? I could go to the right building »

« Erm…I rather not. My father could see this and…I guess he wouldn’t like seeing his daughter riding a motorbike with a boy he doesn’t know. » you spurred out.

Yunho raised a brow at your comment about your father. He barely saw him at your first day but he seemed like a strict man. He nodded.

« I see, well…See you around ? »

« Yeah…if you don’t skip classes » you giggled, relaxed by this friendly or at least less hostile conversation.

Yunho scoffed and ruffled your hair, which surprised you.

« Maybe. »

Then he sent you off, waiting for you to go inside the building before driving back to his empty home. He mostly had said the truth to you, but he voluntarily omitted to add his mom got admitted to the hospital weeks ago. And he didn’t want you to pity him furthermore.

When you stepped inside the silent apartment, you noticed your father’s shoes weren’t at the entrance, meaning he wasn’t home. You sighed in relief, hurrying yourself to hide the helmet in your room, under your bed. Only Sookja got a glimpse at you rushing at your room.

« Y/N ? Is everything alright ? » she asked while she was in the kitchen.

« Yes ! Every thing is alright ! » you shouted back at her before going back to the kitchen to eat the late diner she prepared you.

Sookja took a look at your face. You were indeed tired, but something had changed. She could feel you were less, stressed ? The old woman sweetly smiled to you watching you eat.

« Did something nice happen today at school ? » she asked innocently, aware you normally aren’t really openly talking about your school days.

You looked at her, enjoying the warm soup after the cold weather you faced on Yunho’s bike.

« Erm…Yeah we can say that » you mumbled, slightly embarrassed but yet excited.

Sookja was a confident. You could tell her anything, she would never repeat to your father. She waited for you to keep on.

« There is a ..classmate of mine. At first we were like cats and dogs you know ? But today we sorted things out and I guess it’s fine now »

« I’m glad to ear this sweetie » she said in pure relief and joy for you. « Have you made friends ? »

« There is Jisoo ! She’s a part of my class as well. She’s a really warm person » you said, after taking more bites of rice and others side dishes.

Your housekeeper was happy to know you were getting a better life than you have had until now. She hoped some day you would be free from your father’s influence and fly by your own wings. That’s how she was thinking and wished the most for you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After this strange night, days have been more packed. The day of your mock exams, you gave it all, knowing that although it was only a mock one, your father wouldn’t let it pass. After giving back your sheets, you and Jisoo were talking at the cafeteria. The petite teenager stretched and sighed.

« Y/NNNNN ! What should I do ? I’m sure I’ll fail ! »

« Don’t say that Ji’, I’m sure you’ll do well »

« It’s easy for you ! You always have good grades. » she pouted.

« I wished I could have less than 100 believe me » you groaned.

From the corner of your eyes, you glimpsed the tall figure of Yunho with Mingi and Hongjoong. He was sitting with them with the same expressionless face he used to put on at school. But when he was sitting next to you during class, he didn’t ignore you anymore, nor tried to nap. He was surely warming up to you, but it seemed he wasn’t ready to let his friends see him this way with you.

« - today ? » you heard Jisoo’s voice.

« Mh ? Sorry, I wasn’t listening » you said, going back to your friend.

Jisoo pouted again before following your gaze and leaned near to your face with a teasing face.

« Guuuurl, it seems you and Yunho got closer or is it me ? »

« Gosh, Ji ! It’s not what you think ! We just sorted things out, but we’re not friends or things like this » you mumbled back, embarrassed by her behaviour.

« Well, that’s not really the impression I have. Did you remark he’s not skipping classes lately ? »

« Maybe he got enlightened by God to study ? » you suggested in a grin.

You both laughed and today, you felt relieved as you didn’t have to go to extra classes, the academy being closed for the spring break that was soon arriving. Somehow, you convinced your father to let you go to Jisoo’s house for the weekend, heavily pretexting she wanted you to tutor her for the real exams. He seemed suspicious, but since your school grades were good so far, he didn’t have any objections to make.

While for packing your bag, you received numerous notifications on KakaoTalk. Jisoo created a group chat with the others kids who were going to come at her house for the weekend. Mostly girls and maybe some boys, but it didn’t really matter for you only the fact you had the chance to spend time with your friend, making some other friends ?

You happily answered to the text saying you’d come by yourself at the indicated address and time before locking your phone again. When you were almost done packing, your phone vibrated again but this time wasn’t the group chat. « Jung Yunho » appeared at your screen, leaving you speechless for a moment.

윤호

Need a ride for this weekend ?

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[deans-baby-momma]

Wounded Hearts 1

Summary: When John Winchester leaves his two high school-aged sons in a motel in Fairfax IN while he goes off on a hunt, they both make friends. What happens after they have to suddenly leave when John comes to fetch them? Will those friendships endure? Does Dean leave a piece of his soul behind?

Word Count: 3,635

A/N: This is a sequel to Past Haunts, but it’s mostly what happened in the thirteen years between high school and when Sam and Dean return to take care of a haunting in their old stomping grounds of Truman High. The first couple of chapters will be mainly Dean’s POV and then after that, each chapter will switch from Dean’s POV to Rebecca’s POV. I will label them appropriately.

October 14,  1996   Dean’s POV

I watch with pride as Sammy schools some kid. My brother might not look like much but he can fight. I guess all the times sparring with Dad and I have paid off. He gets a few good punches in before laying the bully out. I smile widely as Sam tells the kid that he’s not tough, he is just a jerk. The crowd begins chanting ‘Dirk the Jerk’.

One of the onlookers turns to walk away and slams right into me. I look down to see a girl from a couple of my classes. It takes me a minute to remember her name. Rebecca. Rebecca Quentin.

The blush on her cheeks and the way she pushes her hair behind her ears is adorable as hell! She looks down at the ground after she apologizes but I’ve got to tell her it’s okay. No harm, no foul.

“Hey Rebecca, right?”

I get a glimpse of what a spitfire she is, when I accidentally call her ‘honey’.

“I’m not your honey, Dean!” she rages and honestly it is cute as fuck! 

I smile and try to make up for my obvious mistake. “Listen, Becks,” I begin and cringe at another faux pas. ‘Dammit Dean keep it together.’ “Is it alright if I call you that?”

I sigh and relax when she nods her head that the nickname is okay.

“We got off on the wrong foot. Let me make it up to you. We can go get a bite to eat.” She looks like she is about to reject my offer so I quickly counter. “I’ll even bring my little brother so it won’t look like a date. If that’s what you’re afraid of.” 

When she agrees I can practically feel my heart rate pick up. This girl is beautiful with her gorgeous blue eyes and brown hair. She is a vision and she just agreed to go out with me! Well, Sammy too, but I get to talk more and learn about this angel.

I call Sammy over, never taking my eyes off her. As we leave the school grounds, I wonder if she is aware that she has strategically placed Sammy between us. Was that intentional or just a coincidence? The two of us carry most of the conversation during our trip since Sammy has his nose in some book, the big nerd!

Rebecca Quentin is 17 years old, the same age as me; a senior and is planning on going to college to become a Psychologist. She tells me that she has her heart set on Harvard.

“You must be really smart,” Sam quips glancing up at Rebecca before going back to reading.

On our walk, I learn that she is an only child and lives with her parents on the other side of town. I can’t imagine not having siblings because, although he can get on my nerves, Sammy is my life. I have been protecting him since I was 4 years old, it’s my duty. 

As we pass a movie rental store, I get the bright idea for pizza and a movie in our motel room. After some coaxing, Rebecca agrees and I rush inside to get the movie. ‘All Saints Day’ is one of my favorites. 

Our money situation is getting sparse but I want to splurge for her so I grab a couple bags of popcorn at the checkout and after paying, I join Rebecca and Sammy on the sidewalk.

We walk to the pizza joint and go inside to place our order. I look around the nearly-empty restaurant as we wait. The lighting is bright but is dulled by the amount of wood inside. Dark wooden panels cover the walls with even darker wood beams line the ceiling. The tables are draped with red-and-white checkered table clothes with a candle and a condiment tray in the center. The whole ambience of the place gives off a romantic vibe and I imagine bringing Rebecca here for a date.

‘Get a grip Dean!’ I think to myself. ‘You just met the girl and had to persuade her to hang out with you. She’s probably not even interested in you like that; just too nice to say no.’ The waitress calls our name and I grab the boxes before we continue our trek to the motel. 

At the motel, I am a complete gentleman, holding the door for her to enter first and I even carry her food for her. We settle in, me on the floor and her on the end of my bed. We watch as David Yeager portrays the Hatchet man. Sometime during the movie Rebecca joins me on the floor and when a jumpscare scene comes up she hides her face on my shoulder. I smile as I lean over and whisper, “I’ll protect you.” That earns me a smile and from the look in her eyes, I can tell she actually believes and trusts me. I can’t help myself as I lean over and press my lips to hers, keeping it chaste and innocent because Sammy is right there.  A few minutes later she places her hand in mine and I entwine our fingers, a smile breaking out on my face. I am scared that if I acknowledge it she’ll pull away and that is the last thing I want her to do, so I sit there with a big old goofy grin. We finish the movie and polish off the rest of the food before Sammy begins complaining that he wants to go to the arcade. I only have $20 left for us to live on until Dad returns and the brat is getting on my last nerve.

Suddenly Rebecca speaks up and pulls some bills out of her pocket. “Here ya go. There’s an arcade down at the end. Go crazy!” she tells him, with a laugh.

Sammy’s whole face alights and he begins begging me to go. “Can I Dean? I promise not to go any further. And to come straight back when I’m done. Please?” 

I look at Rebecca and then to Sammy. That means Rebecca and I will be in the room alone, by ourselves. What if she is expecting something to happen. Fuck! I have not watched enough Casa Erotica on stolen pay-per-view for this. I don’t know what I’m doing. Fuck!

I pull Sammy to the side. “No further. And if you see anything...suspicious come back here. You know the codeword.”

Sammy repeats the codeword and is out the door in a flash. Well this just turned awkward. I run my hand across the back of my neck as I turn to look at Rebecca. I take a step closer to her as she steps closer to me. Before long, we are standing toe-to-toe and I can smell her strawberry, I think it’s strawberry at least, shampoo. Her lips are still slightly swollen from the kiss I gave her and I lick mine as I hesitantly reach for her. She walks right into my embrace and wraps her arms around my neck. I lean down and kiss her and OH MY GOD! This kiss is even better than the first. I take a chance and swipe my tongue across the seam of her closed lips and am surprised when she opens to let me lick into her mouth.

She tastes like heaven, if there is a heaven. Her tongue wrestles with mine and she moans as I begin lightly sucking on hers. My hands begin rubbing up and down her sides, the hem of her shirt catching on my fingertips. I pull back and look at her questioningly and she nods so I grab the garment and pull it over her head. She is wearing a little peach bra with a tiny little bow in between her breasts. I swear I could cum right now. She helps me pull my shirt off and then we discard the rest of our clothing until we are left in our skivvies.

We lay down and make out heavily on the bed. I feel like my dick is going to burst, it’s so hard. I slide her bra strap down and then reach behind her to unsnap it. Of course with my bumbling hands, I have trouble but I get it loose and Rebecca pulls it off, dropping it on the floor. 

I stare at the picture before me. Her nipples are hardening to little nubs as I gaze at them. Seeing breasts on television is one thing but fuck me, breasts in real life? There is no comparison. Gathering up all the courage I can muster, I dip my head and kiss one of the stiff peaks, flicking my tongue across it. Rebecca moans above me and her hands land on the back of my head. I continue laving her nipple all the while loving the sounds she is producing.

I slide my hand slowly down her stomach, praying she doesn't feel the tremble in it. My whole body is vibrating with nerves.  I have never gotten this far with a girl and I'm worried I will somehow mess this up. I want to satisfy and please her. When my fingertips meet her panties, I lightly run them along the edge. I look up to see Rebecca's eyes watching me. She wiggles her hips and smiles. I take that as her consent to keep going. 

I push up onto my knees between her legs, almost embarrassed at the obviousness of my arousal. I hook my fingers in her panties and pull them down. Once I get them to her feet I stand up and take them the rest of the way off. I grab the top of my boxers to remove them but my eyes land on her body. Taking my time, I run my eyes down from her face to her neck, over her heaving chest and gorgeous tits down her stomach to….her pussy. Fuck! I palm my dick as I look at the splendor before me. Her outer lips are bare and smooth and I can just see a peek of her clit. How the hell am I going to last, I'm already about to blow my load. I push my boxers down until they fall to the floor.

 Climbing back onto the bed,  I position myself between her legs and lean forward to capture her lips. My cock rubs against her inner thigh and oh my fucking god! How am I getting harder?!

Rebecca's back arches off the bed, breaking our lips apart. "Dean," she sighs and I look into her eyes. Holy shit! This is happening! I'm about to have sex. I sure hope to god Sam doesn't return anytime soon. "Do you have a condom?"

Fuck!! Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Yea I have a condom; one dad gave me when I turned 13, four years ago. Dammit to hell. 

I crawl off the bed,  trying to figure out if I want to take a chance with that old thing. I look around the room and spot a half wadded sandwich wrapper on the table. It keeps sandwiches fresh and dry so it should work right? I grab the plastic and notice a few crumbs stuck to it. I shake them off and proceed to wrap the cellophane around my dick,  making sure that the tip is covered well.  When I am satisfied with the protection, I climb back onto the bed and take my previous place. 

I grab the base of my dick and line it up with her entrance. "Ready baby?" I ask as sincerely as I can.

I’m nervous as hell but I want to make this good for her. I look down as I run the tip of my dick along her slit, her juices warm and slippery. I press in to breach her outer lips and notch myself at her entrance. I don’t know why but I am assuming this is her first time too. Maybe it’s the look of anxiety on her face or maybe I’m just seeing things. Either way, I want to ease her into this. Ok, yea and me too. “This might hurt and I’m sorry.”

I press into her and am immediately met with resistance. Yep, this is her first time too. Has to be, ain’t no way they are always this tight, right? I lean down and kiss her to swallow her cries as I pull out and push back in. A few more tries and our hips are flush, my dick is inside her! Holy shit, I am inside a girl and fuck does it feel wonderful! I have to bite my inner cheek to stave off the desire to shoot my load. It feels that fucking good!

When Rebecca whimpers, I freeze. Oh fuck! Did I hurt her? I should have been more gentle. ‘Good going Dean!’ I silently chastise myself. I wanted this to feel good for her, not to cause her any pain. I pull my upper body off her enough so that our foreheads are touching. Neither of us are moving, just our chests from the heaving breaths we are both taking. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, although if she would say no I think I’d have to kill myself. I don’t want to have harmed her in any way. 

Instead Rebecca grins up at me and nods her head. I feel relieved instantly. “Yea. Just keep doing what you are doing. It’ll get better.”

I start a slow and steady drive of pushing in and pulling out all the while trying to hide the euphoria on my face. I lean down and nuzzle into her neck, kissing the skin behind her ear.

Rebecca starts making these sweet little sounds that are so much better than anything I’ve ever heard on pay-per-view. It is music to my ears. I begin grunting on the push in and moaning each time I pull out. I swear I am in heaven. If there is a god, I want to shake that guy’s hand.

 Oh god! Now her pussy is squeezing me tight, making my momentum wobble. I can feel my nuts drawing up and I know I’m about to meet my end. White explodes my vision and I push in as far as I can, pulsing and shooting my load into that plastic sandwich wrapper. This is so much better than jacking off! 

Suddenly, Rebecca grabs my biceps; her fingers digging into my skin. She throws her head back onto my pillow with her eyes closed as she screams, “Oh god! Dean!”  I can feel her getting wetter and seeping out around my shaft.

I kiss along her collarbone, careful to keep my weight off of her as we both come down from that magnificent high. Now I know what all the excitement is about. Sex with a woman is phenomenal!

After cleaning up and getting re-dressed, the awkwardness creeps in. We stand in the middle of mine and Sammy’s motel room, just staring at one another with small smiles on each of our faces. Mine will probably be etched on and never go away.

“Well, I uh….I better get home,” Rebecca stammers, pushing her hair behind her ear. Does she realizes how fucking adorable and captivating that little habit is? Probably not, but it fucking is.

I don’t want her to go but I know she needs to get home. I look at my watch and balk as I see that it is almost 6 pm. So that means for almost an hour she and I had sex. Wow!

I grab her wrist and pull her toward me, running a finger down the side of her face. “See ya tomorrow, Becks.” I lean in and give her a quick kiss on the lips and wistfully watch as she opens the door.

Before leaving though, she looks back at me one more time and smiles. There is a sparkle in her eye and I can’t help but feel proud; I put that there. After the door closes, I turn to grab my flannel; might as well go hang out with Sammy in the arcade. Maybe whoop him in a game of Mario Kart. A spot on the bed catches my attention and my heart flutters when I realize what it is. There in the middle of my bed, is a splotch of Rebecca’s cum. I’ll sleep great tonight, with the knowledge that I finally got laid. And we both enjoyed it. The proof is right there. 

I pull my flannel on, checking to see if I had the room key before I strut down the side of the building to the room that the arcade is located in. I look through the window to see my nerdy ass brother sitting at a game for dorks; some type of trivia shit. I go to grab the door handle and wonder if Sammy will be able to tell a difference in me. I am no longer Dean Winchester, virgin but I am Dean Winchester, sex god. 

I challenge Sammy to a round of Lethal Enforcers, totally demolishing him. But at 13 Dad hasn’t let Sammy get much practice in with a gun. Not like he has with me; by the time I was Sammy’s age I could take apart, clean and reassemble almost any caliber weapon in Dad’s possession. I ruffle Sam’s hair as we head back to the room, much to his chagrin. 

“What’s got you in such a good mood Dean?” Sammy asks. “You and Rebecca do it?” I can tell by the playfulness of his voice and the smirk on his face, Sammy has no idea what transpired in our room.  In an attempt to play it cool and nonchalant, I puff out my chest and say, “Yea. I rocked her world.”

Sammy rolls his eyes and continues walking towards the room. I shudder at how much of a jerk I sound like. It was nothing like that at all. What happened between Becks and I was magical and wonderful and I wouldn’t mind doing it again. At that thought, I remind myself to invest in some newer condoms. 

The next morning

I can’t wait to get to school. I have first period with Rebecca and I am hoping to be able to sit beside her. That is, if Amanda Heckerling and her flunkies leave us alone. There is a skip in my step as Sammy and I walk the two blocks to the school. But it falls away when the cell phone in my pocket begins ringing. I know there is only one person with this number and there is only one reason he would be calling. Dad is done with his hunt and is on his way to pick us up. I curse as I take the phone out of my jacket pocket and flip it open.

After the call, I tell Sammy the news. “Dad will be here by lunchtime to pick us up. Do you have everything in your bag?” We had long ago learned to carry our personal possessions with us instead of leaving them in whatever motel room we stayed in. Easier for Dad to just pick us up and leave town before any questions or concerns arose. 

“Yep,” Sammy answers and I can tell he is as melancholy as I am at the thought of leaving this town. In the three weeks we’ve been here, we have both made friends and hated leaving them behind, knowing we’d probably never see or hear from them again.

I go about my normal routine, checking in at homeroom and grabbing my shit out of my locker before heading to English Lit. As soon as I walk in I spot Rebecca but instead of the smile I expect to see on her face, she looks down. Is she ashamed of what we did? Did she tell someone and they made fun of her for having sex with the boy from out of town? I walk past her and take my usual seat at the back. I can’t wait for Dad to get here so we can get out of this shithole! Lunchtime cannot come soon enough.

At lunch, I track down Sammy and we go to the front of the school to wait on Dad. As we hear the rumble of the Impala coming we both look up at the building morosely. The best and worst things happened here. I met a girl and had sex just for her to turn around and deny she even knew me. “This place sucks. Come on Sam,” I say as I head around the front of the car to get into the front.

As we pass the sign that thanks us for visiting Fairfax, I silently wish Rebecca Quentin a farewell. My heart constricts and I feel sick. I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes and daydream about blue eyes and dark brown hair and soft silky skin. 

@tftumblin​ @spnbaby-67​ @markofdean79​ @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @travelingriversideblues-x​ @akshi8278​ @keymology​ @hoboal87​ @squirrelnotsam​ @natura1phenomenon​ @drakelover78​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @blacktithe7​ @atc74​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @sandlee44​ @mogaruke​  @deanwanddamons​ @supraveng​ @deandreamernp​  @lyarr24​

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

before the otherness came (2)

the wench and the witcher

“before the otherness came”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader.

Summary: Two years go by.

Warnings: Language, some violence and sexism. 

A/N: Part 2 of my “As It Was” fic set. Once again, big love to my darling Tumblr wife, @inber​ ,for helping me sus these bad boys out. This was a beast to write, and I think the longest think I’ve banged out. I will always and forever second-guess my ability to write angst, but I did it and it’s y’all’s problem now.

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves​ - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @inber​ - @owillofthewisps - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty​ - @wastingmypotential​

Part 1 can be found here.

Tell me if somehow, some of it remains How long you would wait for me? And how long I've been away

Heartache has a particular bite to it. It’s bitter – metallic - like holding a copper coin in your mouth, it sits heavy on the tongue. You’ve been trying to choke back the taste of it since Geralt left.

He always takes a piece of you with him when he goes but gods it feels different, this time.

This time the empty space left behind is jagged. It splinters. It breaks off sharp little pieces that slice deep as you try to go about your life. As you try to pretend that it’s fine, when you try to keep moving, and working – walking and talking and living as if there isn’t a piece of your own heart missing. It’s exhausting. You end your days almost too tired to sleep, curled up in your empty bed and each night. Your fingers reach out and drift over the space where he should be and the chasm widens.

More jagged bits break away. More cuts, more pain.

You hadn’t started to worry, really worry, until Geralt had been gone for two months. It wasn’t uncommon, but the longer you went without hearing word, the more you worried. When you still hadn’t heard anything in four months, the fear set in. The Continent is vast and wide, though – he could be anywhere. 

After six months, the fear turns to dread. After ten months and no word, nothing, you’d reached out to Jaskier, but even his connections had their limits and that was when the sorrow found you. There was a chance the White Wolf didn’t want to be found, but the more likely alternative, well.

The Path is dangerous. Geralt of Rivia is big, and bad, but he’s not invulnerable.

You haven’t seen him in over two years. No one has.

With a shaky inhale, you pull your gaze from the flame of the candle at your elbow. You make another attempt to focus on the open ledger in front of you with middling success. The sharp bits, the cutting bits he left behind have mostly been pieced together. Some days you can almost ignore them, but today it feels like you’re on the verge of breaking apart again. Swearing quietly, you tally the last of the earnings for the week and flip the book closed before rubbing at your aching eyes.

You take the small flask from your desk drawer. The brandy is smooth and warm on the way down, dulling the edge of your pain until you feel like you might be able to stand and smile in the land of the living. Another sip and you decide to try and do just that.

It’s not terribly crowded tonight, but the people eating your food and drinking your ale are in good spirits. It warms you some, watching them smile and laugh over your recipes. You cast your gaze across the room, grinning and waving when your name is called until your eyes light on a newer face at the bar. He’s certainly handsome. Curly copper-colored hair, pretty green eyes – some manner of tradesman by the cut and styling of his clothes. Not poor, but certainly no well-moneyed type; that lot doesn’t drink here. The copper-haired stranger catches you looking. He has one of those secretive smiles, dimpled and cheeky, and you find yourself returning the one he flashes your way.

You touch the necklace at your throat. It’s almost enough to give you pause, but…

The redhead’s name is Nathaniel. 

A carpenter and a shameless flirt, you let him buy you a pint of your own ale and don’t mind when he touches your hand. He listens to you when you talk about the tavern and your cooking, tells you that you make the best rabbit he’s ever had, and you let him slide closer as the evening wears on. His hand is warm on your lower back, his voice lilts in a sweet Skelliger brogue, and he’s entirely too charming for his own good.

When he starts to call you ‘darling’, you don’t feel like correcting him.

You let him tuck you against his side, relishing in the way he bows his mouth close to your ear and you nearly miss the way the room goes quiet. You’re not sure what makes you tear your gaze from Nathaniel’s lips, but then you meet a pair of honey-gold eyes across the room, your heart stops.

Geralt’s face passes through a number of emotions in a split second before you see him shut down.

Gods on high. The bastard’s alive.

Elation and relief make you feel dizzy, you such in a breath and it feels like being punched square in the ribs. Fuck’s sake. The bastard’s alive – he’s been alive this whole godsdamned time.

It suddenly feels as if the stays of your bodice are laced too tight. The room is too loud, too crowded, and the copper-haired man at your side far too close. Nathaniel’s hand brushes down your spine and you bristle, squirming away with a muttered apology. You hear him call after you and ignore it, at least until he grabs your wrist and pulls.

“Hold on, darlin’,’ the redhead leers down at you. “I dun’ think we’re through yet.”

“Let go – “

“Nooo, I dinna think so – “ He pulls again, hard, and his palm chaffs against your skin until you hiss in pain. “You cannae just leave a man high and dry like this, lovey,” Nathaniel says with a smirk. “Come on. Why don’t ye take me upstairs and you can make it up to – “

Over the Skelliger’s shoulder you see the hulking form of the white-haired Witcher and you’ve never seen Geralt so angry. Soft lips are curled back into a deadly sneer, bright eyes flashing with malicious intent. You say his name, warning him off to no avail; you’re not his focus. He grips Nathaniel by the collar and pulls; the smaller man is yanked away and you stumble as his hold on you is broken suddenly.

“Geralt, stop,” you bark.

Nathaniel regains his footing before glancing between you and the Witcher. He looks gobsmacked, at first, and then he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. It’s mean; spiteful.

“You let a Witcher have you?” he scoffs. “Fuck all, love – if I’d-a known you were that easy, I would’nae tried so hard. You’ll let jus’ about anythin’ settle between those pretty legs, won’t ye?”

Geralt snarls, actually snarls, before grabbing the redhead by the shirtfront and slamming his fist across his face. You shout at him to stop. Nathaniel breaks the grip on his shirt with a sweep of his arm before returning blows; man and Witcher ignore your furious cries for cessation, trading blows like brawling idiots, until you roar, “Enough!”

You throw all your weight at Geralt, shoving him hard enough to knock him off balance and away from Nathaniel. “I said enough!” you bellow.

Man and mutant are panting, the former bleeding from his nose and the latter sporting the beginning of a good shiner. Nathaniel sneers at you, “Mutant-humping bitch.”

With a snarl of your own you spin – a flash of metal, and the point of your dirk sits at the redhead’s pulse. “This is my bar, boy,” you snap. “You don’t speak to me like that. Set foot in here again and I’ll finish what he started – do you understand me?”

Nathaniel’s eyes go wide before he glares and spits at the hem of your skirt. Regardless, he does as he’s told. You watch him skulk out the door with your teeth grit so hard that your jaw starts to ache. The rest of the bar is silent as the grave and you can feel embarrassment flush your cheeks with heat. Poor Lucja behind the bar gapes like a fish in a dry stream. It takes a second to find your voice. The dirk slides smoothly back into your bodice.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance, friends,” you call out, grateful that you sound steadier than you feel. “Accept a round, on me.”

At the bar, one of your old regulars makes a show of clearing his throat. “See that, lads?” he growls. “That’s why you don’t tangle with the lady of the house.”

The unbearable tension breaks, laughter rippling lowly over the room. You almost smile, and then you look back to see Geralt. Something awful and prickling hot starts to claw through you when you meet his gaze. The terrible, gut-wrenching feeling only gets worse when you turn towards your study and he follows. You know the sensible thing would be to throw him out on his ass, but you let him follow and turn to face him when the door slams shut.

He just… stares at you. His gold eyes are flat and impassive, handsome face gone hard, and the heat in your gut goes so cold that it hurts. You’re on him in two short strides, both hands shoving hard at his chest. Geralt barely wobbles.

You haul back and slap him hard across the face instead.

The momentum snaps his head to the side; you hear him exhale, slowly. When he turns back to pin you with his gaze again, his eyes flicker dangerously. “Don’t,” he growls.

You strike him again.

He bursts into movement so quickly that you give a short scream of surprise. You swear at him, punching at his chest, trying to kick at his knees – or his groin – before your back hits the wall hard enough to rattle your teeth together. Geralt pins your wrists with bruising force, presses his full weight into you until you’re immobilized. “Don’t you fucking hit me,” he snarls.

You bare your teeth at him. “I oughta black your eye. Put me the fuck down.”

“You gonna calm down?”

“Try it and find out.”

Each short exhale rushes over your face, disturbing the curls that have fallen over. Geralt moves slowly, flint-cold eyes fixed on yours as he eases back. You yank yourself away from him as soon as your feet hit the ground and rub at your sore wrists. Beneath the anger, beneath the hurt and embarrassment, you feel the sharp stab of your old heartache. It shifts in your chest, pieces of jagged glass that drag over the bits of yourself that you had so carefully packed back together.

Oh, it hurts. It scrapes you raw. The pain snags at the breath in your lungs, but your fury surges to the foreground and you shake with it. Your nails dig crescents into the flesh of your palms.

“You asshole,” you spit. “You do not come here and attack my fucking customers – “

“Sweetheart – “

The petname makes you see red. “Don’t fucking call me that. Don’t you dare – you do not get to storm in here half-cocked after you vanish and try to, what, defend my fucking honor?”

Geralt growls from low in his chest. “He all but called you a whore.”

“And you all but treated me like one,” you bite back.

“That’s not fucking fair – “

“Not fair? You fucking left, Geralt. You were gone – “ You choke on the words - they sit too heavy in your mouth.

“For fuck’s sake – it’s my life, the Path! What the fuck am I supposed to do –“

“Try picking up a godsdamned quill.”

Geralt’s teeth click together. You see his jaw twitch, watch his golden eyes flash with barely contained anger and you feel your eyes begin to smart. His face goes hazy and you hate it – it feels like weakness when all you want to do is put your fist through something. The tears spill over your lashes and you wipe at them, angry and embarrassed.

“Two. Years,” you snarl. “Two fucking years I waited, and you couldn’t be arsed to send word?”

The Witcher barks out a laugh, sharp and cold as splintering ice. “You call that waiting? Found the first hard prick looked like he had money and hopped on, so maybe the ginger cunt wasn’t wrong - “

The rage, the hurt surges – bonfire hot – and you turn, grabbing the inkwell from your desk to pitch straight at the Witcher’s head. He dodges with curse and the glass shatters, but the cacophony does nothing to cover your howl:

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, YOU BASTARD!”

The words tear their way up from your heart, breaking open the makeshift cage where that fear had been desperately packed after weeks, then months of nothing and damn him. Jagged bits of yourself run you through and let the grief well up. You try to grit your teeth against it, try to force it down, but those sharp pieces cut and bleed you.

“You unimaginable bastard,” you hiss. “I thought you were dead and – and Jaskier didn’t know where to find you – no one did. Gods damn you, Geralt. I thought I would never see you again.“

Your voice cracks. Geralt’s stares at you, wide-eyed, and you have to drop your gaze. You bite your tongue and close your eyes, shoulders trembling with each silent sob. If only the earth could open up and swallow you whole – you wish for it, pray silently for it, to no avail. The sound of the Witcher’s footfalls breaks through and you expect to hear the door closing as he leaves. Instead, you feel his fingers close on your elbow. You open your eyes, staring hard at the ground; you can see the toes of his heavy, dirt-caked boots butted up against the edge of your skirt. Geralt’s fingers pull once, gently, and that’s all it takes; you stumble forward against his chest with a low keen.

His grip is just shy of too tight. You feel the press of his face against your hair, so familiar that it hurts. He whispers your name, curls his fingers in your hair to keep you close. Your hands fist in the black of his shirt. He lets you cry until there is nothing left.

When your breathing evens and the tears have ebbed, you let him tilt your face up to his, but his expression is no easier to read. It stings at you – salt in the open wound – and the space around your heart aches. His gloved thumb drags gently over the apple of your cheek and you’re tired, of a sudden. Too tired to keep fighting this.

“Damn you, Witcher,” you breathe. “I love you.”

Geralt goes utterly still. Frozen like a cornered cat. You see a flash behind his pretty golden eyes before his hand drops away from your cheek. The look on his face makes your stomach turn over. “I never meant to hurt you, sweetheart,” he mumbles.

Humiliation has a particular taste to it.

The bitter, copper bite coats your tongue and, this time, you can’t swallow it down. It has thorns now, burrs that stick in your throat. You’re not sure why you laugh – it’s a hollow, bitter sound.

“Of course you didn’t,” you say as your voice shakes. “No, you just… you just ran. I said I was yours, and you made a promise, and then you ran.”

The leather cord on your necklace is old enough that it gives with little resistance when you pull. Geralt’s brow creases when you take his hand, but you watch his face go ice cold as you press the wolf’s tooth into his palm. You retreat, move away and behind your desk to pick mindlessly at a few papers before you stop and simply brace there. The smooth, polished oak is cool under your hands.

Geralt’s voice is rough over your name – you grit your teeth and snap, “No. No more. I have done with you, Witcher. Leave me be.”

He doesn’t move, at first. You can just make out his still form in your periphery, and you feel the weight of his eyes on you before he turns, making his silent way to the door. There’s a creak of old wood on ancient hinges. The tavern noise rushes back in for a moment and is cut off with a slam. You screw your eyes shut against a fresh wash of tears to no avail.

You manage to bite your cheek hard enough to keep your sobs muffled.

[thecleverdame]

Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Three

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta:  ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Van Tassel House - Sam’s Room

The sounds of the festive music rise up from the first floor as Sam unpacks his bags. He carefully arranges his books, then empties his medical case, making sure that all his instruments survived the trip unharmed.

There’s a knock at the door, and Sam looks up to find the face of the young woman from the porch. He watches as she sets a pitcher of water on his washstand, her cheeks blushed pink.

“Thank you.” Sam offers her a kind word. “Please tell Mr. Van Tassel we’ll be down in a moment.” “I will, sir.” She bows her head, moving toward the door. She stops for a moment, looking as if she’s summoning all her courage. “Thank God you are here!” Sam watches her leave, surprised by her emotion. This place is full of the unexpected.

Dean’s room is next to his, they’re tucked away into guest bedrooms on the third floor. There’s a thought fluttering in the recesses of his brain, he wonders where you sleep. If you’ll be near and if he’ll get a chance to speak with you again.

There’s a rap at the door and Dean saunters in, looking around, seemingly displeased. “Your room is larger than mine.”

Van Tassel House - Parlor

The Winchesters make their way downstairs, stopping in the hall.

“Did you see the reaction when we announced the reason we’re here?” Dean cocks an eyebrow.

“They’re not even attempting subtlety.” Sam shrugs, listening to the raised voices.

“What in the name of all that is holy is going on here?” Dean whispers, looking behind him, ensuring their privacy. They’re just outside the parlor, collecting themselves before they meet with the village council.

“I have no idea.” Sam raises his brow.

“All the way from New York!”

The voices can be heard from inside the room, the brothers falling silent to listen.

“A waste of time!”

“What can they do for us?”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” comes the familiar tone of Baltus Van Tassel, apparently the only voice of reason.

“Time to find out,” Sam nods, making his way into the room.

“Excellent! Come in!” Baltus motions to Sam and Dean when he spots them in the doorway.

Lady Van Tassel is pouring drinks and the servant girl who was in Sam’s room, Sarah, is placing a pipe in its cradle next to Baltus.

As Sarah goes to leave the room she walks past the man she was on the porch with when they arrived. He’s already introduced himself as Doctor Lancaster. He trails his hand against her buttocks, believing that he’s acting stealthily, but Lady Van Tassel catches the touch, as do the Winchesters.

The music from the party is faintly audible, and all five men in the room are sporting sour expressions, save for Balthus.

Balthus turns to his wife, patting her arm. “Leave us, my dear. Please check on Y/N.” Sam looks to Dean, who cocks his head.

“I’m Constable Dean Winchester,” Dean instroces him with a sweep of his hand. “This is my brother, Constable Sam Winchester.”

“So,” Sam begins, looking around the room. “Three persons murdered. First, Peter Van Garrett and his son Dirk Van Garrett, both of them strong capable men, found together, decapitated. A week later, the Widow Winship, also decapitated. We will need to ask you many questions, but first let me ask - is anyone suspected?”

Baltus looks at Sam as if he’s speaking another language. “I don’t understand you.”

Dean clears his throat and Sam glances to his brother. “I said, is any one person suspect in these acts?” The men in the room stir in their seats looking at each other as if to say I told you so.

“Constables, how much have your superiors explained to you?” Baltus asks.

Dean leans forward, “Only that the three were slain in open ground and their heads found severed from their bodies.”

“The heads were not found severed,” Reverend Steenwyck interjects. “The heads were not found at all.”

“The heads are gone?” Sam clarifies, surprised by this new detail.

Hardenbrook, the town notary, stomps his foot, getting the attention of the Constables. His voice is broken as he explains. “They were taken. Taken by the Headless Horseman. Taken back to hell.”

Sam pauses, starting to speak, then stopping as he looks to his brother. “Pardon me?”

“Perhaps you both should sit down.” Baltus gestures to the open spots on the sofa. He methodically pours the Constables glasses of whiskey, taking his pipe in hand as he begins his tale.

“The Horseman was a Hessian mercenary, sent to our shores by German princes to keep Americans under the yoke of England. But unlike his compatriots who came for money, the Horseman came for love of carnage and he was not like the others…” “He rode a giant black steed named Daredevil. He was infamous for taking his horse hard into battle… chopping off heads at full gallop. To look upon him made your blood run cold, for he had filed down his teeth to sharp points, to add to the ferocity of his appearance.” “This butcher did not meet his final end till the winter of seventy-nine. It was not far from here in our Western Woods. He happened upon two young girls gathering firewood. The girls stood frozen in fear but one managed to make enough noise to alert the soldier’s encamped nearby to his presence. The soldiers and the Hessian battled, steel against steel, head’s rolling. One of the soldiers managed a debilitating blow. They cut off his head with his own sword. To this day, the Western Woods is a haunted place where brave men will not venture, for what was planted in the ground that day was a seed of evil. And so it has been for twenty years. But now the Hessian has awoken, he is on a rampage, cutting off heads where he finds them.” Sam sits back, shakes off the reverie of the tale. Dean takes a gulp from his glass, mouth forming a tight line as he holds back a chuckle.

“Are you…” Sam starts looking from one man to the next. “Are you saying this is what you believe?” “Seeing is believing!” Hardenbrook thrusts his finger into the air, his body shaking. Baltus places a hand on his shoulder to calm him.  

Doctor Lancaster raises his brow. “No one knows why the Hessian has chosen this time to return from the grave.” “Satan has called forth one of his own,” Reverend Steenwyck chimes in. He’s standing next to a side table and picks up the hefty Van Tassel family bible. “They tell me you have brought books Constable Winchester, and trappings of scientific investigation. This is the only book I recommend you study.” He drops the Bible on the table in front of Dean who gingerly lifts the front cover -- revealing a page covered with ink. Writing which he will remember to look at later -- then he snaps out of all this nonsense. “Reverend Steenwyck,” Dean smiles good-naturedly, patting his own chest. “Gentlemen,  murder needs no ghost come from the grave. Which of you have laid eyes on this Headless Horsemen?” “Others have,” Hardenbrook points a shaky finger toward them. “Many others.” Sam allows himself a skeptical smirk. “You will see him too if he comes again. The men of the village are posted to watch for him.” Baltus assures the constables. “With due respect,” Sam chuckles. “We have murders in New York without the benefit of ghouls and goblins.” “You are a long way from New York, sir,” sighs Baltus who seems to be losing steam. “A century at least. The assassin is a man of flesh and blood, and we will discover him.” Sam’s promise short, no one is the room appears convinced.

“How do you propose to do so?” the Reverend persists, indignant. “By discovering his reason. It is what we call the motive," Dean explains.

Sam’s nodding in agreement. “This mystery will not resist investigation by the Winchesters.” Van Tassel House - Y/N’s Room

You’re sitting in front of your vanity mirror. Lady Van Tassel is brushing your hair, counting the strokes. This is something your mother used to do for you, and it’s a comfort to have your stepmother perform the same task. “I must admit, I am a bit disappointed.” You stare into the mirror. “Our first visitors from New York and their time here is to be occupied by nothing but murder and mayhem.”

“I’m sure there will be time for conversation regarding other topics.” The two of you lock eyes in the mirror, grinning for a moment before there’s a soft knock at the door and Lady Van Tassel gives you the hairbrush, going to answer it. She opens the door to Sarah. “That constable, the tall one, he wants the Bible, mum.”

“Bible?” Lady Van Tassel asks, face blank. “I’ll bring it to him.” You take the opportunity that presents itself. Sarah dips a curtsy and goes. Lady Van Tassel gives you a friendly raised eyebrow. “What? I’m curious.”

“Curiosity can be dangerous.” She warns, her tone still playful. “Don’t let your father catch you in his room.”

“I won’t.”

Van Tassel House - Sam’s Room Sam is surrounded by his books, including his father’s journal, none of which are helping, there has been no early breakthrough.

There are two soft knocks on the door but he doesn’t look up, focused on the text in front of him. “Yes, come in.” You inch into the room, carrying the family bible. He’s engrossed in whatever he’s reading, this handsome stranger here to save the village, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. He is even more handsome now that you have time to give him the inspection he deserves.

“Thank you, just leave it on the reading stand,” he instructs and you set the bible down as directed. “That will be all - no, tell me about that big brute who seems to be Miss Y/N's-”

Sam glances up, seeing you and has a physical reaction. His feet crash to the floor as he sits up quickly, knocking papers to the floor as his cheeks flush pink. “Forgive me, I-I asked Sarah to bring me…”

“So your clever books have failed and you turn to the bible after all,” you smile, watching as he stands up, taking stock of his large frame and broad shoulders. He scoffs, his eyes narrowing. “I see we are talked about downstairs.” “In passing only. We have many things to talk about even in this backward place,” you volley back, letting your eyes linger long enough to indicate interest. “I am sorry,” Sam places a hand over his heart. “Please excuse my manners. I am not used to-”

“Female company?” you finish.   “I was going to say the niceties of society.” He chuckles, flustered but seemingly happy at your presence, a smile plastered across his face. “How can you avoid society in New York? How I should love the opera and theaters and to go dancing. Is it wonderful?” you ask, unable to hide your unbridled enthusiasm. You’ve always craved to be part of the modern world. “Perhaps.” There is a sadness in his smile. “If one has a someone to enjoy it with.”

“Surely there are things to do on one’s own,” you ponder. “The art museum as an example?” “If you’re so inclined,” Sam agrees, nodding softly. “I would have thought you more well versed, do you have nothing to teach me?” There’s a deliberate playfulness in your question and his eyebrows shoot up as the realization hits him.

But he ignores your implications like the good gentleman that he is. “Perhaps I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He steps closer, eyes narrowing. “Tell me, do you believe the Van Garretts and the Widow Winship were murdered by a headless horseman?”

You’re unable to resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Not everyone here believes it is the Horseman.”

He seems to like that response, his sparkling eyes falling over your body, before recovering. “Good.”

“Some say it is the witch of the Western Woods who has made a pact with Lucifer,” you offer matter-of-factly. Sam sighs, shaking his head. “There are no witches or galloping ghosts either! Is everyone in this village in thrall to superstition?”

“Why are you so frightened of magic Constable Winchester? Not all magic is black. There are ancient truths in these woods which have been forgotten in your city parks.” “If they are truths they are not magic.” His expression falls serious.

“You are foolish.” You’ve got more argument in you, not ready to leave him just yet. “When there is a fever in the house, it is well known that willow-herb roots and a crow's foot must be boiled in the milk of a pure white goat with special charms uttered over the fire and the fever abates,” you counter, roused by his willingness to debate you. “Next time try the herbs without the rest.” He glances at the clock, seeing the time and shifts uncomfortably. “Now I must ask you to excuse me, it’s very late and I’m not sure it’s appropriate for you to be in my room at such an hour.” “I will gladly take my leave. I should not have interrupted our town's savior. Good night. And as to your first question, that big brute you were asking about has proposed to me.” You cross your arms over your chest. Sam’s face stiffens, Adam's apple bobbing. “I am happy for you.” “Proposed to me several times,” you follow up with a faint smile, watching as he processes this ambiguous statement. You turn on your heels, leaving the room and shutting the door behind you. He watches you go, staring at the door after it’s closed. He never expected a woman as beautiful as you to be hidden away in this quiet little village. And he certainly didn’t expect your quick tongue and forceful opinions. It’s been a long time since someone of the fairer sex has piqued his interest.

He moves on to the business of the Bible, opening the front cover. On the endpaper is a family tree going back a hundred years in various faded inks and handwriting.

He studies this new information. You were born in 1777 to Baltus's first wife who died in 1797. It appears that Lady Van Tassel is Baltus’s second wife. He continues reading, coming to something even more interesting. The family tree has a Van Garrett in it, the husband of Baltus’s father’s sister.

“Van Garrett,” he mutters, walking over and pounding a fist on the wall to the next room. “Dean!”

There’s a faint sound coming from somewhere in the distance, he listens intently but there’s nothing more. The Fields The streets are empty. There’s nary a sound, except a sinister rumbling in the distance.

Jonathan Masbath looks out from the wooden bunker, feeling the rumble of the ground beneath his feet. The torches burn bright along the forest line. Several deer stampede out from the forest and across the field. Jonathan watches, wide-eyed as a horrible, silent stillness falls over the field. A thick fog is creeping from out of the woods, rolling outward, overtaking each torch as the mist snakes up snuffing out the flames one by one, darkness descending along the forest edge.   He picks up his rifle, the sight trained along the treeline. “Come out, devil...come,” he whispers, hands shaking.

He senses the devil before he sees him, his rifle firing at nothing as he takes off in the opposite direction on foot. Fleeing across the field to the opposite edge, he sprints through the forest glancing back in terror, thunderous hoofbeats behind him.

Well behind him he gets a glimpse of a huge black horse that’s gone almost before he can be sure he saw it. He pushes forward through thorny bushes, jagged branches catching his skin and bloodying his clothes.

He bursts forward from the brier patch, tumbling out onto a trail. The hooves of the black horse rip through the underbrush, hoofbeats deafening . A spur digs into the snorting steed's already bleeding flank. The pursuer's gloved hand draws a sword, blade blazing in the moonlight. On the trail, Jonathan runs onward. The shrill whistle of a sword swing swooshing through the night as the steed gallops past. Jonathan is still running when his head lolls back at an impossible angle and tumbles off his shoulders as his headless body hits the dirt.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Beauty Chooses Part II

On AO3

Chapter 5 The Strength Of Three Women

The days fell into one another like dominoes. The spring and summer months are a bustle of activity as the fields are readied for planting, the crops are watched closely for disease or infestation, barns are raised, fences extended, horses are broken and one hundred other activities. Some days Jamie and Murtagh were helping at another farm and I wouldn’t see them until dark. I was thankful for the company of Glavia and misses Crooke and the strength of three women was put to a frightful test one afternoon. I was rocking Faith in the nursery when I heard Glavia screaming and misses Crooke yelling at someone to get out. Thankfully Faith was asleep and I was able to slip down the back stairs and get outside.

I was frantically looking for a weapon of some kind and trying to run in my corset almost cause me to pass out. I saw no one else on the property so whoever was inside was alone. I could hear Glavia screaming in the parlor so I went into the kitchen and grabbed a heavy pan. Pausing to catch my breath I figured I had to hit the person on the head and prayed there weren’t two of them in there. Peering around the corner the room was in shambles and the man had a hold of Glavia’s hair, dragging her around while he searched every inch of the room.

“Where does yer master keep the money, gold, or silver? He’s the laird for Christ’s sake so I know it’s here. Tell me!”

Glavia was absolutely terrified and she tripped trying to get away from the man. Her skirts exposed one leg to mid-thigh and the man went silent for a minute before grabbing her and throwing her on the sofa. He threw her skirts up over her head and fumbled madly with his breeks trying to get them down. When my pan made contact with the side of his head he stood still and I panicked and hit him again even harder. He dropped like a sack of potatoes and I rushed to help Glavia.

We had to get Faith and make a run for it before he woke up. I tried to get Glavia to settle down and saw misses Crooke running down the stairs ripping long sections of cloth from a garment.

“Come mistress! We must tie him up, hurry!”

She was fumbling around with the ties and I realized he would bust through those sections of homespun so this would not work. I knew what we had to do thanks to an old western movie I once watched. I stopped misses Crooke and showed her how to rip sections going around the skirt giving us much longer sections. I handed Glavia the pan which she held menacingly above his head. It took several tries but I managed to loop the ties around his neck, tightly, so that any movement would cause him to strangle. I felt quite pleased with myself until I realized he was in our front room on the floor and we would be stepping over him all afternoon. Well, someone would need to guard him and hit him again if he woke up. Glavia was more than happy to fill that duty.

I exhaled a long breath and that is when I heard her, screaming at the top of her lungs. I flew up the stairs and opened the door seeing Faith reaching for me, face red, eyes wide with fear. I held her to me and spoke softly in her ear and humming her favorite song. I felt my own tears fall from the horrible danger we were in and how it could have gone terribly wrong. I didn’t want Faith to see the man tied up on the floor so I went back down the back stairs and came around the house almost fainting at the sight of Jamie and Murtagh coming home.

Faith was still crying loudly and I screamed at Jamie to help us. Tools landed in the grass and the two men were racing toward me. Jamie was scared and he reached for Faith to give her comfort and pulled me to him. I explained what happened as Jamie handed Faith back to me taking great strides toward the barn. He asked over his shoulder if I recognized the man, which way did he leave?

“Jamie stop! He didn’t leave, he is still here. I hit him on the head when he was trying to rape Glavia and then we tied him up.”

Jamie stood stock still looking at me as his face lost color.

“Here.”

“Yes, he’s in the parlor.”

“Sassenach, please keep Faith out here, I’ll send the others out to stay with ye. Murtagh will stay with ye.”

With that, he launched himself into the house. Murtagh looked into the window of Jamie’s study and started laughing. I found that in very bad taste until I too looked and could clearly see into the parlor where Jamie struggled to get the pan away from Glavia. It looked like she would give it to him but instead brought her arms down and almost struck the man in the head. Jamie grabbed the pan and walked the women outside. I could hear him laughing from the kitchen door.

“Yer mistress is around the corner lasses. Everything is alright, ken? Murtagh! Yer gonna want to see this.”

I watched again as both men examined the way I tied the asshole up. Murtagh put pressure on the tie and watched the noose tighten on the man’s neck. Murtagh turned to look at me through the window and gave me two thumbs-up laughing. That broke the spell on me and I laughed at that. I taught Murtagh every hand gesture I could think of because he fancied the idea of nonverbal communication. I laughed back and shook my head.

Glavia looked ghostly white so I sent her and Faith upstairs by the back steps again to play and relax. Faith was babbling to her and she relaxed and smiled at the darling baby. I hoped she would not be traumatized.

Misses Crooke and I went back into the house and put a hasty supper together so the men could eat before they…did whatever they were going to do. We enjoyed a relaxing meal and I heard all about their day. Every other minute I wondered what was to become of the man in the parlor. I fixed a plate for Glavia and Faith and as I came down the stairs I noticed the man’s eyes close.

“I’m delighted you're awake you piece of shit because I want you to feel this.” I pulled up my skirts and drove my foot into his ribs, face, the other side of his face, and ribs and was panting for air when I finally stopped.

“Do ye feel better mo chridhe?”

“Actually yes, I do.”

“Misses Crooke, do ye want a turn?”

She curtsied from the kitchen, “thank you, mi laird, no mi laird.” She vanished to the safety of the kitchen.

In one swift move, Jamie drew his dirk and cut the man loose and then sat down on the sofa like it was a Sunday social.

“I’m not an unreasonable man, I tell that straight away to gain yer trust. I’ll no kill ye if I ken why ye came here. Tell me the truth ass maggot and ye live.”

The man said nothing while he stole glances around the room, no doubt looking for a way to escape.

“Have it your way then. Sassenach, kill this worm.”

He stood up and handed me his broad sword, the tip of which hit the ground with a thud as soon as he took his hand away. He gave me a look that said, this is important.

“Ye know Sassenach, this reminds of the scuffle we had at the bottom of the hill, I believe it was our wedding day, was it naught.”

The scuffle he mentioned was acting out a fight with Jamie while he pretended to drag me to would-be kidnappers. He wanted me to pretend I think. I whirled at the man with a murderous look and screamed “my pleasure!”

The man shouted the reasons for stopping here and Jamie took his sword back much to my relief.

“Get up.”

The sound of Jamie’s voice made the hair on my neck stand up. I was ready to have this ordeal over with and the threat gone. No matter what that entailed. Jamie tied the man's hands behind his back and left with Murtagh. I poured a much-needed whisky and then another and went to check on misses Crooke before checking on my sweet daughter.

When I walked into the nursery Glavia hugged me sobbing her thanks for saving her. She was clearly not over the trauma. Faith sat on the floor smiling at me with her two teeth showing and her arm raised to hand me a block. I sat on the floor and Glavia dropped to the floor right next to me. Faith gave us both blocks and entertained us with her own special language. After a particularly long string of da-da-da-da-da, Jamie appeared.

“I heard ye callin me lass, what’s amiss then.”

Much to my surprise and delight, Jamie dropped to the floor and laid on his side pulling me to rest against his thighs. Whenever he interacted with Faith his face softened, his eyes sparkled, and slowly his joy returned. Within minutes he had us all laughing, especially Faith who looked at her father like he hung the moon. After some play and coaxed kisses, Faith yawned and reached for me. Jamie kissed my temple and got up so we could put her to bed. He looked down at the baby nursing at my breast and then at me.

“I have somethin for ye Sassenach. I’ll give it to ye downstairs.”

“Glavia, yer alright lass.”

She yawned and nodded and Jamie left. Later I found Jamie and Murtagh in the kitchen, still eating, and looked at Jamie with raised eyebrows.

“Sassenach? Oh! Yer wee gift!”

He pulled two perfect bars of soap from his sporran and dropped them in my hands. I smelled them feeling my smile as my eyes closed. I filled my lungs with the scent and opened my eyes to Jamie standing in the middle of the kitchen watching me. I drifted back toward the stairs smelling my new soap until Jamie lifted me from behind and told me not to drop the soap. Through my giggles, I asked him where we were going.

“To bathe mo gradhag.”

“You can’t carry me all the way to the stream.”

“I can, and I will, lest ye get sidetracked by a flower and I lose my mind waitin for ye.”

Jamie unbuttoned my jacket and pulled it off. Each piece of my ensemble was removed slowly, with kisses to the newly exposed skin. He pulled the pins from my hair and led me into the cold water. It was delightful and invigorating as I dropped below the surface loving every moment.

“Where’s the soap?”

“Soap?”

Before I could say another word he pulled a bar out of each pocket, smelled them both and handed me one.

“It wouldna do for me to smell like a lass, so I brought my own.” His clothes seemed to vanish and he waded into the water toward me. One body part at a time he lathered up his hands and spread the soap over me. I was in no hurry to leave the water so I took my time doing the same to him. As soon as the soap was washed off his cock he lifted me and set me down on him slowly. I wrapped my legs around his middle and moved my hips. A moment later I was on my feet again with Jamie’s forehead pressed to mine.

“Yer body doesna want mine tonight mo chridhe and ye would say nothin of that fact.”

“I wouldn’t say that Jamie, it always feels good.” I tried to move toward him.

“I love ye more than anythin in the world Sassenach. I can wait for a better time.” We left the water and Janie put my shift over my head and his breeks and boots on. He turned his back on me and motioned me to jump on his back so he could walk me back to Lallybroch.

“What about our clothes?”

”I'd rather carry you, love. I will get them at first light.”

As we approached the dooryard I asked Jamie what became of the intruder.

“Look up mo chridhe, he hangs from the tree waiting for Murtagh to take him to freedom.”

“What?”

I looked up and saw the man dangling from a very high branch with no boots or pants. When we were back in our room I asked why the man was dangling in the tree half-naked and what freedom would he be getting?”

“Murtagh will sleep for a few hours and then cut him down and take him to the docks to be sold to one of the oriental ships. It’s my favorite remedy, ye ken?”

“Why not take him to Fort William?”

“A Scot who victimizes other Scots is no a criminal Sassenach, he’s a hero, given a warm bowl of food and set free to continue his work.”

He nuzzled my neck and walked naked to open the window. I loved the feeling of being clean and cozied up to Jamie’s side while he read. I wasn’t the least bit tired so my mind wandered in and out of memories, thoughts, fantasies. Before long I was flipping through my card catalog of sexual positions, landing on ones that I loved.

Jamie glanced at his wife every few minutes until he was sure she was on the road that led to mutual pleasure. This was the first time he entered her body an unwelcome guest and he would keep his promise not to force her. Now he just needed her to force him. He turned the light down and held her close as he slowed his breathing, waiting.

I was lost in memories of an erotic carriage ride through the streets of Paris with my skirts up over my face and Jamie’s tongue sending an invitation to join the altitude of the angels. He had pulled my jacket away from my breasts so he could suck on them until I screamed. He pushed into my mouth after pulling me to my knees on the carriage floor. I saw the curtains sway back and forth in front of the windows, exposing my naked breast and the cock in my mouth. I should know better than to dwell on that special memory.

My hand found Jamie’s leg and traveled up his stomach and higher to twist his nipple before descending back down to wrap around his balls and hold them, feeling the heaviness.

Jamie struggled to remain still and asleep while Claire made her advances. She wanted him but she wasn’t ready yet. He turned on his side, his back to her. It was a gamble, he waited.

The images of Jamie’s infinite positions for making love danced through my head and I felt my breath go in and out across my wet lips. My core was throbbing and wanted his attention. I spooned into his back and ran my hand down his chest pinching his nipples. He was deep asleep and I was losing my mind. I could feel his glorious balls from behind and I squeezed them. In a flurry of blankets, I was pinned on my back with Jamie’s face an inch above mine.

“What are ye doin Sassenach?”

“I want you to wake up and touch me, Jamie.”

“Nah, ye didna want me tonight, you must rest Sassenach.”

I tried to kiss him and he moved his head away and got up. My heart was pounding and I could not let him leave.

“Why do you resist me. I can see you want me. Come and I will give you what you want.” I moved to the side of the bed and shed my night rail. I opened my legs wide and asked him to lick me. He approached and pushed my knees open.

“Show me Sassenach.”

I laid back on the bed and guided his hand to my core but he pulled away.

“No” I growled. I was done playing this game and needed to come. When he walked away from me I followed and tried to wrap around his body from behind. His large hand came around and I was thrown to the small sofa in our room.

“Show me again mo chridhe.”

He sank to his knees and told me to show him what to do. I grabbed his chin and pulled him to me. I could feel his breath on my wet tender core, his tongue was millimeter from me and he pulled away.

“No! Please, Jamie, touch it, right here, make me come, love, I need to come.”

Jamie grabbed my hips and pulled my pelvis up to his mouth so I was upside down with my hands on the cushions of the sofa. I felt the flutter of angel wings just before I blasted into a higher stratosphere where nerve endings were played like a harp.

As Claire spun slowly back to earth Jamie inserted his tongue into her and rolled his eyes to the side to watch the would-be-rapist hang from a tree with a mighty erection. Lowering Claire to the sofa he grabbed a fistful of hair pulling her to his groin. On her knees, in front of the window, he held her mouth to him before pulling her up and spinning her toward the window. He pushed into her while she clung to the window sill, unaware of the man watching them.

Jamie was not tender or nice. He pushed into her with force because that’s what she wanted in this mood. It played right into his torturous hands and he made sure the hanging man would depart for the orient with purple balls for what he tried to do to the women here. When he came with a mightly growl his eyes were open and staring into the eyes of his enemy.

Jamie picked me up and laid me on the bed. He kissed me deeply and ran his hand over my flesh. My hips jerked slightly toward his hand and he stopped. A minute passed and his finger pushed into my fold as my hips shot up. I needed to come again and I would tear this bed to shreds to get to Jamie. He pushed my legs open. I felt the cool night air on my swollen bud.

Jamie moved to the side so the dangling man would see a wet pussy and what he was about to do to it. For the next ten minutes, the man watched with wide eyes and a throbbing dick as Jamie brought her to two more orgasms. He turned to look at the dangler with a wet face and a smile before snuffing the light to hold his wife close.

Jamie woke in the deep night with a throbbing erection. It was painful and he reached for Claire. He only meant to punish the man who tried to rape the women under his care but the erotic lesson was demanding to be paid. As he slid in and out of her his gaze never wavered from her eyes. The exquisite build-up made him slick with sweat as he pushed deeper into her until he exploded. He held her so close and whispered his love into her ear and her dreams.

I woke the next day feeling like something inside me was different and I could not shake the feeling all day. In the afternoon, I rode Brimstone through the fields hoping some exercise would ease my anxiety but it didn’t. Murtagh had returned to Lallybroch and not another word was said about the intruder but he haunted my thoughts.

By the third day of living the nightmare in my head, Jamie pulled me outside for a walk before supper. He asked what was causing my silence, what was wrong. It just came tumbling out of my mouth, as if I was hearing it for the first time. My peace of mind, my happy space, had been burned to the ground watching that wicked man drag Glavia by the hair and then try to rape her.

“The way I see it, we have only one remedy Sassenach. Ye have to learn how to shoot and shoot well enough ye don’t hit the wrong person in the process. Are ye willin to try?”

“Yes! Oh Jamie, thank you. That would make me feel so much better!.”

“I have my doubts, wee love. A pistol often hurts the shooter.” He squeezed the muscle of my shoulder and arm and shook his head sadly. You canna shoot until ye’re stronger Sassenach. I’m sorry lass, but it will take some effort on yer part before you ever load a gun.”

“I’ll do what I must and do it quickly. Don’t you worry about that.”

We had an accord. Jamie would show me how to build my muscles and then teach me to shoot. I was excited about learning how to defend our home and my precarious daughter. I couldn’t wait to get started.

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 28

At long last, you get a new chapter! I’m so sorry it’s taking me so dang long to do this. I needed my wonderful @diversemediums and she's had life to do. Thank you so so much for waiting and sticking with me. I hope this chapter is enjoyable. I know we put a lot of thought into how this would all work out and trust me, we have a plan for the next few chapters. Anyways, have fun!

Catch up on chapter 27 HERE or my Master List HERE

Golden sunlight cast a halo over her dark curls. The ghost of a laugh escaped her smiling lips. Her eyes opened slowly, meeting his as she began a luxurious stretch.

His breath left him suddenly, his body jerking uncontrollably. Claire kept smiling, reaching for him. Did she not notice?

“Are you awake?” she asked softly.

His body lurched again. Still, she remained serene and happy.

“Fraser, are you awake?” she asked again, with a low Irish lilt.

A sudden sharp pain in Jamie’s ribs reminded him that he was not in Paris. At some point, he’d been cut from his restraints and chained to the wall instead. A large, bulky man was currently beating on him while Bonnet watched. His body shook with the pain of the punches even as his head began to throb.

“Tell me what you’ve Seen, Fraser, and all this can stop. Tell me something that’ll interest me and I’ll bring you a bed, clean clothes.”

“No,” Jamie said, spitting blood in Bonnet’s direction.

“You know, you could be a rich man. Sell your Gift to the right people and they’d pay you a fortune!”

Jamie shook his head, wincing far more from the pain of his Gift than that of his body. Men like Bonnet would never understand why the Fraser line never sold their Gifts that way.

Some time later, Jamie was left in a bruised and bloody heap. His headache had turned to a constant pain that underscored his waking hours. Luckily the big man had punched him in the face a time or two, so Bonnet hadn’t noticed Jamie’s bloody nose. It wasn’t bad yet, but he knew it would get worse without Claire.

Claire.

The thought of her in his exhaustion and pain brought on a vision he’d never wanted to See again. He sank into it as if dunking his head into a calm sea, his breathing like the tide. In, then out. In. Out.

Desperate, he reached out for her. All he needed was a glimpse of her, something to hold on to while he fought to survive. He knew better, knew he shouldn’t try to See into her future, but he had nothing else, no other options. So he focused on his last memory of her and Looked.

Jamie felt her. Sorcha. The images jumped and wavered, his mind unable to grasp a particular point. Then, he saw her, as he had once before.

Golden eyes gazed into his, soft and lovely, as her hands vainly held her life’s blood as it flowed down her body. He held her eyes for a moment before they fluttered closed and her chest stopped moving. And her chest stopped moving. He cried out, his voice echoing into the layers of time and possibility that Seeing brought. The calm sea had turned into crashing waves, crushing his heart as hit churned wildly around him. Jamie reached out, trying to grasp her, but he was spat out screaming and writhing on the cold floor of his prison. Amidst the chaos, he felt another presence looming thoughtfully over him.

“Now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” Bonnet said.

-

Jamie breathed shallowly. Anything more would make him vomit. Even small noises, like the creak of a distant door or the sound of his own shirt rubbing against his skin sent his head reeling in stabbing pain.

It had been hours since Bonnet’s last visit, since he Saw Claire bleeding out in his arms. His breath caught in his throat, a single tear sliding down his temple, landing on the freezing metal floor beneath him.

Jamie slowly rolled over to his side, curling in on his pain, silencing his own whimpers. Claire. Oh God, Claire.

“Christ, Sassenach…” he whispered, alone and broken in the dark. “Christ, Sassenach I need ye.”

-

The next time he woke, he was in a new chair. He was unbound, but was in far too much pain to even think about escaping. At this rate, his headaches and nosebleeds would kill him before Bonnet got what he wanted. Jamie had bled in his sleep, if the dark puddle on the floor was any indication.

“Tell me what the Government knows about me,” Bonnet said in a calm voice.

“No.”

“I’ve got six different countries offerin’ me a lot of money for you, not to mention a few very wealthy businessmen. You’ll never want for anything!”

Jamie shook his head, ignoring the jolts of pain the movement caused. He’d slowly been losing control of his Sight. With the migraines and the beatings, he couldn’t focus enough to keep the visions at bay. It was getting bad, visions coming every few hours. To Bonnet’s intense displeasure, they’d all been inconsequential, only snapshots of nonsense. He’d Seen a young mother making a grilled cheese sandwich for her daughter, a man purchasing a new cell phone case, a group of kids daring each other to eat sour candies, and several others.

“I’ve been hired for a job in two weeks’ time,” Bonnet said, changing the subject. “A quick smash-and-grab, nothin’ out of the ordinary for a man like me. I want you to Look and tell me how it’ll go. Do that and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded, even give you a cut of the profit. Say no and I send you off to some corner of the globe for the rest of your life.”

Jamie, dizzy from blood loss and pain, met Bonnet’s eyes.

“No. I willna gi’ ye anything.”

“Listen to reason man,” Bonnet said lightly. “Either way, you’ll be treated like a king. Why don’t ye just stop this and give me what I need to ensure everyone’s safety?”

Jamie slowly raised his eyes to glare at the Irishman.

“I will not give in to threats or bribery,” he hissed. “I would rather die than be at the hands of whichever power hungry agents hand you your blood money.”

Bonnet sighed.

“I’m afraid that was the wrong answer.”

***

“Jamie?!” Claire said, sitting bolt upright in her bed.

It took her a minute to realize her husband wasn’t there. But the dream had been so real it made the reality of his absence even more painful. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the dream she’d had to try and savor it for a while more.

His large body was stretched at length beside her, completely at ease. One arm was folded beneath his head, the other was wrapped around her. Their legs tangled beneath the thin sheet, bringing a soft smile to his full lips. Absently, her fingers played with the thick hair on his chest while she listened to his steady heartbeat. She sighed, leaning into his fingers as he gently combed through her curls.

She felt a thrumming deep in her bones, a sound like a cannonball being shot into water reverberating in her chest. Jamie’s serene face didn’t change, but Claire could have sworn she heard his voice echoing in the back of her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t understand what he said.

It was then that she woke up. As she regained her wits, she realized the voice she’d heard wasn’t Jamie’s. There were a number of voices coming from somewhere downstairs. Still… The ghost of Jamie’s kiss burned on her lips, as if he’d just left her. And another feeling… the gnawing sensation that she was not where she needed to be. Claire squirmed, breathing deeply as adrenaline flowed through her veins, her muscles tensed for actions she could not yet take. Jamie needed her. She needed to speak to Murtagh.

Dressing quickly, she made her way downstairs with one thought on her mind. They’d been searching for Jamie since Fergus’s warning two days before with no success. Not even a hint of a lead was anywhere to be found. But the ache in Claire’s chest told her they needed to find him soon.

“Murtagh,” she said, fussing with her hair as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Something’s wrong. We need to-”

She stopped short when she saw the group gathered in the front room. Ian stood in front of Jenny, who looked ready to kill someone. Murtagh had his fist clenched around an antique dirk. Facing them were three faces she never thought she’d see again. Geillis, her former roommate and best friend, stood beside Dougal MacKenzie. Behind them was a large man she’d met at one of Frank’s functions. He’d said his name was Harvey. 

“You,” she said, pointing at him. “Have you been following me this whole time?”

“My apologies for deceiving ye, mistress,” he said, voice deep.

“I thought Dougal was dangerous to Jamie,” Claire said, looking to Murtagh for information.

Jenny emerged from behind her husband.

“Aye! He is! He’d use Jamie to further his own cause! Bring back the Jacobites, aye? Oh dinna take that tone wi’ me,” she growled.

Dougal grimaced.

“I forget how much I hate being around someone who Hears.”

“There’s the door,” Jenny barked back. “Don’t let it hit yer arses on the way out.”

Ian put his hand on Jenny’s shoulder and pulled her back a little. She glared up at him before turning the look on Dougal again.

“You what?!” Jenny said. “Ye think we’ll let ye help us? After what you said to our Da?!”

Claire huffed in irritation. All she wanted was her husband back and this whole argument wasn’t helping.

“Can you please have your whole conversation where everyone can hear you?”

“Our dear uncle says he wants to help us find Jamie. I, for one, dinna believe a word he says.”

Dougal took a deep breath.

“What I said to Brian and Ellen was wrong. Ye ken I regret it. But Jamie is my nephew, the only one I’ve left. No one is allowed to lay a finger on him.”

“And we’re just meant to trust you?” Claire asked, looking between the three conspirators. “He wasn’t some one night stand, was he?” she asked, staring at Geillis.

“No, he wasna. We’ve been together for some time.”

Claire stared at Geillis in utter disbelief. She’d lived in the same flat as this woman for over a year and clearly didn’t know the first thing about her. Geillis met her gaze without flinching, her eyes unapologetic.

“Nothin’ ye’ve said makes any of us inclined to trust ye, Dougal,” Murtagh said in a dangerous tone.

Dougal sniffed out a laugh and shook his head, which prompted Jenny to say “Watch yer mouth, aye?”

“Enough!” Claire snapped, barely controlling her anger as all eyes turned to her. “What the hell do you know that will help Jamie? Because if you don’t have anything that you can tell me right now that will help him, you can get the hell out of this house.”

Everyone fell silent and waited. Dougal stepped forward, meeting Claire’s eyes.

“We have a name.”

Jenny stared at her uncle, eyes wide.

“I didna Hear ye think so much as a hint that ye kent so much.”

“I canna promise it’ll help, or that it’ll get ye to Jamie. But, if we work together, we might find him in time.”

The ache in Claire’s chest hadn’t gone away and it clenched again.

“Tell me,” she whispered.

“If it is who we believe it is,” Geillis said. “His name is Stephen Bonnet.”

[the-red-jester]

99 Things to do on your Birthday

So about a month ago, my friend texted me for birthday party ideas. Since we’re all depressed teenagers, these were the best things I could come up with:

1. Eat

2. Binge Avatar the Last Airbender

3. Text a celebrity

4. If it’s raining, run around outside

5. Draw with chalk

6. Drive all the way to the nearest ferry just to ride it

7. Read Twilight in a silly voice

8. Listen to Carmina Burana while sipping tea and wearing long dresses

9. Give each other terrible makeovers

10. Meditate

11. Watch videos about space that make us question our own reality.

12. Write a really bad song together

13. Make a bad music video for the terrible song we just wrote

14. Stargaze

15. Vandalize a park bench

16. Stage a murder but actually call the cops

17. Get in trouble for calling the cops

18. Draw pictures of each other without looking at them or the paper.

19. Custom tailor clothes for each other

20. Write a love letter to your cat

21. Go on a mini road trip to the nearest city

22. Blind taste test

23. Run around a grocery store and not buy anything

24. Dye each other’s hair

25. Try on every single clothing item at Walmart

26. Steal every napkin subway has to offer

27. Cook a birthday cake and make it look like you

28. Learn 3D animation

29. Try to dress like furries

30. DIY lipbalm

31. Create an online comic book

32. Apply for a job at NASA

33. Call the Pentagon’s phone number

34. Knit our own socks

35. Build a car

36. Ignore all your friend’s party ideas

37. Start an eraser company

38. Write a book

39. Do a photo shoot in our every day clothes

40. Interview each other and make a magazine with the photos we just took.

41. Open a vegan restaurant

42. Build a house and then blow it up

43. Plant trees

44. Pick up trash

45. Make a calendar with pictures of our friendship

46. Buy a Ouija board

47. Find love for each other

48. DIY boat

49. Study Physics

50. Learn sign language

51. Start a tiktok account

52. Make a fan page for some obscure actor we’ve never hear of before

53. Attempt to recreate the entire first season of Dirk Gently

54. Commit Arson

55. Drink maple syrup out of large buckets

56. Attempt to clone ourselves

57. Make new friends by going door to door and asking for friendship

58. Open gifts

59. Realize that the only gift that matters, is the gift of love.

60. Make friends with random guys who work at the mall

61. Buy the Sims 4

62. Study the anatomy of a cow

63. Invest in stocks

64. Gain money from the stock

65. Donate to a political figure’s campaign

66. Slowly take over the government

67. Shoot something with a bow and arrow

68. Visit random people at the hospital

69. Learn how to sing a barber shop quartet song and perform it in public

70. Apply to go to Harvard

71. Tape an audition for Stranger Things in a desperate attempt to go viral.

72. Go to a Comic Con

73. Continue to ignore your friend’s party suggestions

74. Do something very nice for someone

75. Create our own meditation CD

76. Cry on Jeff Bezos’ shoulder

77. Let him cry on our shoulders because his wife left him

78. Visit my family friend who happens to be a vice president of Toyota.

79. Pirate a movie nobody has ever heard of

80. Buy Google

81. Eat as many bananas as humanly possible

82. Move to Alberta and buy a couple horses

83. Fix every mistake we can find in Twilight

84. Draw on something we shouldn’t draw on

85. Sit somewhere we shouldn’t sit

86. Go to the fanciest restaurant in town and not order anything

87. Wash and scrub the trees in your front lawn

88. Scream

89. Look at each other’s baby photos

90. Create our own bath bombs

91. Invent a new way to harvest renewable energy sources

92. Have a beard growing competition

93. Make another list of party ideas

94. Visit the SPCA and pet the cats

95. Sit in a circle and tell bad life stories

96. Go to the beach

97. Go fishing

98. Slap someone with the fish you just caught

99. Learn to Weld

[bailesu]

One Day in Paris (Haruka / Michiru Fanfic)

This is for a Haruka / Michiru exchange thing for @amrynth.  

I’ve put the story behind the cut as it’s kind of long for a tumblr post.

One Day in Paris

By John Biles

For the Haruka/Michiru stuff exchange.

*******************

Some days, Haruka loved being a detective. A good, challenging mystery.  High speed chases on high mountain roads where one wrong turn meant going off a cliff.  Shootouts in a Monaco casino.  Romance under the stars.  Finding yourself tied up the next morning and your wallet stolen.  Being arrested as a homeless person and…

Okay, her last job hadn’t *ended* well, but the start had been awesome.

“But Saaaaaam,” Makoto wailed into her cellphone two desks down.  “I’m a detective!  I can’t just let criminals rampage even if we did plan this for a week!”

Detective Minako had legs which wouldn’t quit.  Wouldn’t quite *kicking her desk to a beat*, that is.  Detective Rei, who had the desk behind Haruka, was starting to crumple paper and make grunting noises, and this could not lead to *anything* good.

“So you’re saying it’s Lupin,” Detective Zenigata said, four desks down into his cellphone.

It’s never Lupin, Haruka thought, sighing; she was busy checking her email to make sure she hadn’t missed a summons from their boss. The last time she’d done that, Head Detective Setsuna had somehow gone back in time and wrecked the best date she’d had in high school.

Petty, yet powerful.

I need a mission, Haruka thought as Rei now rose and began heading over to Minako’s desk.

Also, I need to convince Head Detective Setsuna that this open office arrangement is a *bad idea*, she thought as Makoto now babbled to Sam; no one was sure if Sam was male or female; Haruka was pretty sure Sam was a woman, but whatever Sam was, Makoto was headed for another crash and burn.  Haruka would have felt sorry for her but now Clippy rose from the grave, occupying half the screen on her monitor.  ‘Do you want help with your resignation letter?’

‘I want a damn mission to get me out of this office,’ she typed in.  ‘Also, I thought you died.’

‘That is not dead which cannot die, but with strange aeons…’, Clippy began.

Not another cult case, dammit, Haruka thought.

“If it’s a woman, it’s not Lupin, it’s his confederate Fujiko,” Inspector Zenigata said into the phone. “Be very careful; she is nearly as cunning as Carmen Sandiego, who *still* has my Betamax, dammit.”

A coffee mug slid onto the desk, and Haruka started, then saw it was Detective Usagi.  “I thought you were on the Osaka Jewelry case,” she said to Detective Usagi.

There was a crashing sound as half of everything on Detective Minako’s desk (six figurines of Sailor V, five of various idols, four pictures, a baseball signed by Babe Ruth, and a stack of books Minako would never read but claimed she would) all fell off it because Rei and Minako were engaged in either a fight to the death, foreplay, or probably both, Haruka assumed.

It had been kind of sexy the first three times but after Minako had accidentally somehow knocked Haruka’s favorite racing trophy into the toilet (which was fifteen meters away, an act which was *never* clearly explained to Haruka), Haruka now wished they would keep it at home and be professional at work, like *her*.

“I want to explain it to you, but the Kingdom of D was involved and Umino had to pass himself off as the princess and I just don’t want to think about it,” Usagi said, looking haunted.

“If those two weren’t separated at birth, I will be stunned,” Haruka said, then tried her coffee.  She took Usagi’s hand and squeezed it.  Usagi turned a little red. “You are a master of coffee.  Did you catch the thief, then?”

“It was all a trap to kidnap the princess, and we barely rescued Umino from the deathtrap when they realized they had the wrong person,” Detective Usagi said, trying to sit on Haruka’s desk.

Makoto sat at her desk, clutching her head, while Detective Ami patted her shoulder over and over, trying to help but not knowing what to do.

“I think I have to help Makoto,” Usagi said.

“Drop by any time,” Haruka said.

DING.  

Salvation had arrived.  A mission, so she could get out of this madhouse before…

“So is that your gun, or are you happy to…” Minako began.

“It’s my gun,” Rei said irritably as she tried to pin Minako.

“That joke only works with Detective Conan or Inspector Zenigata,” Ami pointed out.

Minako sighed.  “Ami, the straight woman’s job isn’t to ruin my jokes.”

The mission was to investigate the break-in at Renate Jewels in Paris.  Ahh, gay Paris, Haruka thought with satisfaction.  A city of beautiful buildings, great food and drink, love, and… hopefully not another chase through the sewers.

“No one in this place is straight except maybe Conan but he’s too young for us to think about that,” Ami said.

“Ami, you made *me* the straightwoman,” Minako said mournfully.

Haruka fled to get in her car and drive to Paris.

******************* Haruka then remembered it was not in fact possible to drive to Paris, so she got a plane ticket and arranged for a Lamborghini to be waiting for her in Paris.  When she arrived, she got it and… immediately fell asleep from jet lag in the parking lot of the rental place.

The next morning, she woke up, went to her hotel, took a shower and headed off to investigate the case, hoping the trail had not gone cold.  She felt alive; she needed her missions to give her purpose after she’d been banned from racing, even if it was all that freak Dirk Dastardly’s fault!

Then she headed out to Renate’s Jewels, a beautiful boutique near the Seine; a superheroine and a villain were fighting on a roof nearby, but Haruka ignored them; they had no jewels and were not part of her very important mission.

Renate was a middle-aged redhead who looked oddly familiar to Haruka, but Haruka didn’t worry about that, since it probably wasn’t going to be relevant.  “So she seduced you, tied you up, and then stole everything.”

“I wouldn’t have minded being tied up if she hadn’t *stolen* everything,” Renate said, then swooned.  

Haruka caught her and put her up on her feet.  “You should probably loosen your corset so you can breathe properly,” she said very seriously.

Renate said, “I’m going to need your help, detective.  Why don’t we go upstairs and you can help me do it.”

“Sorry, fair lady, but I’m on a *mission*,” she said, kissing Renate’s hand, then quickly adjusting her corset without taking it off.   Soon, Haruka headed for the Regal Arms, as the thief, who Renate had identified as the notorious Jewel Thief Michiru from a photo, had left behind a pack of matches.  The place was huge and grand, exactly the sort of place for an exciting showdown.  Every piece of furniture was worth two years of Haruka’s salary.

That would make her triumph cooler.  

She paused to adjust her suit in the mirror.  When confronting your nemesis, you have to have everything *just right*.  If your tie is out of place, it ruins the moment.

She then went to the front desk, presenting her badge and a photo of Jewel Thief Michiru running out of a shop with a bag full of jewelry.  “Have you seen this woman?”

The clerk adjusted her glasses.  “Yes, she was lounging around… our lounge… all night last night, looking increasingly cranky, then finally her friend dragged her upstairs with the help of the night concierge.”

Friend?

“Can you describe the friend?” she asked.

Hotel security footage showed Michiru, clutching a wine glass in one hand, unconscious and being dragged onto a luggage cart by a dark haired man in the hotel uniform and by a dark haired woman who was ambiguously teenage and wearing a black blouse, black knee-length skirt, black high stockings, black boots, black nailpolish and a pink rose over her heart which looked lost, but certainly stood out.

Haruka said, “Can you get a printout of that?”

After some tech fumbling, she and the desk lady got the footage sent to Detective Ami for analysis.  She also got the desk lady’s phone number, the address of a good chicken place, and the room number of Jewel Thief Michiru.  

And the advice to never eat at Francois’ near the Arc d’Triomphe.  Or however you spell it; Detective Haruka never sweats the details.

The elevator took her to the twenty-third floor and she made her way down the hallway to 2307.  She pulled out the keycard the clerk had given her and unlocked the door.

“I’m going to have to steal the crown jewels,” she heard Michiru say; she flattened herself against the wall inside the little atrium; to her right was the changing area and a hanging closet; beyond that was the bathroom; she pressed herself against the left-wall, then realized it left her visible, so she slipped into the hanging closet, where a half-dozen dresses were hung up.

The burgundy one was the best, but Haruka wasn’t sure if it really matched Jewel Thief Michiru’s hair.  As she contemplated high fashion, she heard a woman she did not know.  “I’m sure she’s coming.  The Fox told us that her plane arrived last night.”

“Then why didn’t she come to the hotel?” a despairing voice said from the bed.

“Why do you *want* her to find you, anyway?  You’re not the Riddler’s sister, right?” the woman asked.  “I need the money to get Father exorcised, but if I go to jail, I can’t help him!”

“What good is stealing things if there is no one to recognize my skill?” Jewel Thief Michiru said.  “I am in this for the sport, to pit myself against the best.”

“Then why are you worried about this bozo?” the other woman asked.

“I am not a bozo!” Haruka said, coming out and throwing the finger of accusation at the other woman, who turned out to be the teenager from the photo, holding a short fighting staff.

Which she now flicked and it somehow extended into a glaive.

“Don’t bring a glaive to a gunfight,” Haruka said, drawing her gun.

“Now, now, Detective Haruka,” Jewel Thief Michiru said, getting up off the bed and striding closer, gracefully. “Point the gun at me and make empty threats.”

“They’re not empty!  I’ll shoot!” Haruka insisted.

“We both know you won’t shoot us,” Jewel Thief Michiru said, gliding closer. “Why didn’t you show up last night?”

“Jet lag,” Haruka grumbled.

Jewel Thief Michiru stopped, then said sympathetically, “I forgot to take that into account.  My apologies.” The other woman, still unnamed, frowned.  “Okay, what is *actually* up with you two?”  She had turned her glaive back into a staff and put it in her black purse.

“Oh yes, Haruka, this is my new assistant, Hotaru.  She’s a cyborg assassin from the future.”

“I’m not a cyborg *or* from the future,” Hotaru insisted.  She pinched her arm. “This time, anyway.”

“I’m from the future!,” another teenage girl said from the balcony; she wore what looked like a Star Trek uniform to Haruka.   But she was armed with something like a lightsaber.  The big heart on the end did make it stand out.

“No!  You’re going to ruin our sexy confrontation,” Michiru said angrily, pointing at her.   The glaive vs. Heartsaber battle began wrecking the hotel room, so Haruka said to Michiru, “How about if we check out this chicken place I know about until they’re done?”

“My plans… in ruins…”

Then the scented oils caught fire from a parried Heartsaber blow and the whole suite went up in flames.  Haruka picked up Michiru and ran.

***************

“So I got docked two weeks pay because Paris caught fire and it wasn’t even my fault,” Haruka groused to Usagi later as they ate okonomiyaki which Makoto had made them since they both had, as usual, no money.  

Makoto flopped down on the other end of the couch with her pork okonomiyaki and put on Netflix.  “Did they riot?”

“Don’t let the boss know or I’ll lose even more pay,” Haruka said, shaking her head.

“He doesn’t know I sunk Atlantis, either,” Usagi said conspiratorily into Haruka’s ear.  Then she began stuffing her face.

I thought *I* sunk Atlantis, Haruka thought.

Makoto would never ever tell them it was the result of her trying to date a brother and a sister at the same time without either finding out about the other.  Never, ever.

So don’t tell Haruka now that you know.

Iris Out.

[dirkgentle]

“It’s weird. I never thought I could feel like this, but you showed up. Now, it’s like I don’t wanna go on knowing I might lose the feeling.”

Very soft sentence startersAlways accepting!

                          In the billowing semi-dark of their bedroom, Dirk twists ever so slightly beneath the covers. He cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of the other man’s profile, absurdly handsome even now, when he can barely see more than a blur of washed-out shadows. Those words fall into his soul like pebbles creating splashes in a dark pond. Something about them, perhaps the harrowing, implausible loneliness of someone who definitely shouldn’t be lonely for all the cuddles he receives on a daily basis --- some little detail makes uneasy ripples spread through Dirk’s awareness. They soon grow into waves, feeble at first, then increasingly more powerful, stirring and twitching and nagging until he’s fairly sure he won’t be able to lie still for so much as another SINGLE second. 

  The detective startles upright as if stung by a particularly mean-minded ( and mean-buttocked! ) wasp. The duvet slips off him as he sits, straight-backed and with quivering tension lining his shoulders. This is … something. Somehow. A hunch. They haven’t exactly been speaking much, largely due to the tireless pursuit of fitting as many smugly-stolen kisses into their meetings as time and the endurance of their mouths allowed for. Admittedly, whenever there was any kind of non-smooch-interrupted conversation, it tended to be largely one-sided. He resents himself for that, now. Stupid! Completely and utterly stupid to not be paying proper attention. Though Guillermo is no doubt very kissable, Dirk can clearly see that the fault lies with him. He never even made an EFFORT to snatch up an opportunity to get to know this very snuggle-worthy man outside of curious inquiries as to the precise nature of his an-eyeball-for-world-shattering-gorgeousness-deal or his favourite ice cream flavour. But now, here, this is a sliver of a truthful insight, plonking itself into Dirk’s palm at the most unexpected moment. The little twinge of instinct continues to make rather an annoying tenant out of itself by rattling at the fixings and fittings of Dirk’s brain, walloping its walls with a broomstick and stomping muddily about in irritable, dirt-trailing circles. He silences it through voicing its concerns out lout. 

                                                                           “ You’ve never had a single nice thing in your life, have you. ” No part of it is a suggestion, a suspicion or even something as precariously wobbly as a question. He knows. “ At least not one that lasted. It was always just you, always alone, even now, even with all --- this. ” He indicates their messily heaped-up clothes on the floor with a minute twitch of his thumb, then settles a tender hair into Guillermo’s most lovingly messed-up bedhead of tousled black curls. “ I --- I know the feeling. ” Even if he hates to apply this mood-killing level of honesty to a heartfelt late-night talk. It rarely happens, but WHEN it does, it makes him feel like exactly the childish, incessantly whining, self-centred, wimpy person most people take him for when they encounter him for the first time. Heaving a shuddering exhale, Dirk cups that exquisite, war-burdened head in both of his hands and persuades it cautiously to rest on his lap. Currently, he is clad in little more than the outrageously pink underwear he continues to deem a worthy investment of his last remaining case-money, but he doesn’t think his boyfriend will mind. { Especially considering the long hour he spent earlier possessively cradling Dirk’s bum in his palms. }

                          “ And I ... I can’t promise you that this one will be distinctly long-lived, either. I can’t, because I told myself I wouldn’t lie to you. I used to do that a lot, you know. Concoct all those little ... falsehoods, or at least obfuscations of truth, to ensure others wouldn’t prematurely regret giving me the time of day. I used to ... goad them into wanting to brave the implausible for me, I was ... so desperate to just have someone, anyone, staying with me that I, I didn’t even CARE what I told them. But I can’t do that to you, darling, can I? You are ... --- I never had anything like you, like THIS. ” Just for once, he closes his mouth, and tries not to dwell on the fact that this oral-shutdown-incapacity of his must be precisely the reason Guillermo never opened up to him. Guilt prickles acridly on the tip of his tongue. “ Please just --- just know that I’ll try anything in my power, or lack thereof, to keep you from ever having to suffer through the loss of ... it. I’ll try, and if it doesn’t, for some convoluted and most likely entirely unnecessary reason, work out, know that it wasn’t --- that it couldn’t have been because you weren’t ... ” The detective swallows tightly, fingers closing momentarily around a handful of satiny curls as he struggles to make himself say it. ( Just do it, you awful holistic coward! ) “ ... loved. ” 

[thelifetimechannel]

[lateniteslacker]

A Twist of Fate

Note: Several people requested a longer version of the fic I wrote a while ago featuring incubus!Jake/Demon-Hunter!Dirk. Everyone wanted to know what happened between John and Dave. Right now, this story is about them, but Dirk/Jake will be coming soon!

The original story featuring Dirk/Jake can be found here!

Your grandma always warned you about the Striders.

From a young age, you were cautioned.  She instilled in you fear of them.  Fear of the prestigious family of demon hunters.  The Strider family lineage has brought death and ruin to so many of your kind. It doesn’t matter if the demons are benevolent or malicious. The Striders strike without difference or hesitance.

In Derse, there isn’t a single demon who doesn’t know the family and fear them.

At least, that’s what your grandma thinks.

You are John Egbert, and you know that there is nothing to fear.  Your grandmother is Jade Harley, the queen of Derse.  You aren’t nearly as old or as powerful as her, but you can hold your own in a fight.  

You know the Striders are only human, just like any other.

You blend in perfectly with the humans.  You have long since learned to hide your demonic characteristics.  Your ears soften and round with a simple spell, hidden behind your wild black hair even if you forget your enchantment. With the help of glasses, your demonically blue eyes pale a few shades to a vibrant (but human) blue.  

Even without your tricks, your grandmother’s magical charm protects you from the human’s eyes.  As long as you wear it, no human, not even the infamous Striders, will sense that you are a demon.

Once you reached the tender but capable age of 13, you stopped worrying about her rules.  You visited the human realm whenever you pleased, day or night.  You’ve never been anything but carefree as you walk through the marketplace of the town closest to the Derse portal near your home.  

You spoke with the humans and easily befriended them.  You took residence in a friendly elderly man’s home.  You helped care for him until he passed away naturally from old age a few months later.  You almost cried when they read his will.  Though he bestowed all his money to his family, he gave his home to you.

With the help of the villagers, you fixed up the simple house.  You lived with them and worked beside them.

And now, at the very capable age of 16, you think you may have fallen in love with one of them.

Human and demon unions are extremely uncommon, but they aren’t unheard of.  You’ve heard stories of several demons that chose to mate with humans and lived very happy lives.  The final outcomes were sometimes wonderful and sometimes deadly.  

You aren’t really concerned with which outcome you happen to face.  Either way, you will live your life happily with your boyfriend, knowing that you chose to live by your own rules.  

You love him, and you know he loves you.

There’s only one small problem.

Your boyfriend is Dave Strider.

“Egbert, when are you gonna introduce me to your family?  You know it’s not serious until you meet the fam,” Dave says, lounging on the couch in your front room, his gangly limbs spread all over.  One arm is curled behind his head, and the other is clutching his chest in a very overdramatic way.  

“My family’s a bunch of weirdos.  You’re better off not knowing them,” you respond cheekily.  

“I knew you weren’t serious about me.  Don’t even care enough to introduce me to your mom and dad.  I’m gonna expire over here, forever a lonely bachelor.  Never meeting his boyfriend’s family, never getting married.  Alone forever.  You want me to die a miserable death alone?”

You laugh and press your palm firmly against Dave’s mouth. “Shut up, Dave! You know that’s not true!”

He makes an “oof” sound as you jump on top of him, smiling and eyeing him playfully.  “Even if my family doesn’t agree to give me away in marriage, I’ll never leave you.  Ok?”

Dave makes an exaggerated gesture of rolling his eyes, but eventually he nods.  Slowly, you uncover his mouth and quickly replace your lips over his.  You do it to shut him up, but you also do it because you just want to kiss him.

Kissing Dave, you’ve found, is one of your favorite things.  Your lips glide along each other’s gently, and when you feel his tongue slide along your lower lip, begging silent permission, you part your lips, allowing him deeper into your mouth.  

Your teeth are short and blunt, human sized because you’ve willed them to be.  You know you taste like apple cinnamon and yeast, from the bread and jam you ate this morning.  You don’t really have to eat, but you don’t want Dave to know that.

After all, he thinks you’re a human.

Dave Strider, the infamous demon hunter, has no idea he’s dating a demon.

You’re still not perfect at reading thoughts, but you catch glimpses every now and then.  All you see in Dave’s mind is how much he loves you. He thinks you’re just a dorky guy who makes sweet jams and jellies.  He thinks it’s coincidence that you happen to live in this town, closest to the demonic realm.  He thinks he’s lucky he found you here, so he can continue to work and date you at the same time.

Dave thinks you don’t know about his job.  About the demons he kills at night.

You do.  And if your family knew you were dating him—in love with him—they would be appalled.

There’s a reason your family can never meet your boyfriend.  Your parents passed on long ago in a tragic accident, leaving you in the care of your grandmother when you were only five.  You don’t remember much about it, or about them, actually.  You know your dad could bake a mean cake. And your mom could never refuse a piece.

You remember that they loved you.  Though you don’t remember much about them, you miss them.

You wish that they could meet Dave.  Surely, they would understand that what you have with Dave is true love.  That it transcends humans and demons.   Or, in this case, demon hunters and demons.

Your grandma will not understand.  Jade Harley is fearsome in her might, and stubborn in her ways.  If she knew you were dating a Strider, you’re certain she would keep you on a magical leash for at least several decades.  Long enough for Dave to die before you could see him again.

Your grandma can never know.

“What’re you thinking about, Egbert?” Dave says, tapping your forehead.  “Your head’s all scrunched up like there’s too many thoughts going on at the same time in there.”

You can’t exactly tell him all that about your family, so instead you think of something else. “You really want to stay with me forever?” You ask him quietly, smiling shyly at him in a way that you know always gets to him.

It works like a charm. You see the responding light flush on Dave’s cheeks.  “Yeah, I guess that’d be cool.  We’ve been dating a while already, and you seem all right.  We could get married, you could move into my place, we could have a couple kids, and live the dream. It’d be pretty sweet.”

“Eww, move in with your brother?  No thanks,” you scrunch your nose, ignoring the fact that you could never have kids. Not that you would want them.  

Dave lives with his older brother.  “Bro,” is apparently what Dave calls him.  You’ve only seen him a few times, when you went to Dave’s house for one reason or another.  You’ve never even shared more than a passing ‘hello,’ but for some reason he sets you on edge.

Something about Bro being the most infamous demon hunter in the land.  It makes your stomach uneasy, to the point where you can’t eat your sweet jellies.

“Hey, I’ve got a sister too. She’s pretty cool,” Dave points out.

You laugh and kiss him again.  “You know I don’t swing that way, Dave.”

Dave grins at you and says, “thought I’d offer.”

Dave’s sister, Rose, is also a formidable hunter.  Luckily, she doesn’t live anywhere nearby.  She’s long moved out with her girlfriend.  The two fell off the face of the map some time ago, and you never have to deal with them.

Dave himself is nothing to sneeze at.  He’s skilled with a sword, and you know he’s taken down more than a few demons already. You wish there was a way to make him stop, but you honestly can’t think of a way to ask him.  Not without jeopardizing your relationship.  

If Dave were to find out you’re a demon, you have no idea what would happen.  

Would Dave kill you? Would he tell his scary older brother and make him kill you?  

A bright and vivid image suddenly comes to your mind.  It’s loud and sharp in its clarity.

You see Dave, with his katana plunged through your chest.  

It feels so real, so plausible.  It terrifies you.  The thought sends shivers up your spine.  

Reflexively, you touch the charm your grandma gave you.  It’s kept you safe and hidden for years already.  You know it will keep you safe many more.  Her magic is the kind that lasts for centuries.

Dave notices and murmurs, “how come you always wear that one?  I got you a pretty cool one too.”

“I like yours!  I wear it sometimes!” You quickly stammer in response.

“I never see you wear it,” Dave says, and though you don’t see the pout on his lips, you hear it in his voice.

“I do! I just like this one too!” you insist.  Then, your expression softens.  You pull your lower lip between your teeth, eyeing Dave in that adorably vulnerable way that you know he always falls for.  Quietly, you tell him, “It was my grandmother’s.”

Dave falls for it. You sense him feeling sorry for you. Dave feels sorry for the grandma that he doesn’t know is very much still alive and the powerful queen of the demon kingdom.  

In his thoughts, you see Dave reaching for you, taking you in his arms. You see him cradling you, and comforting you.  You see him shushing you, and rubbing your back gently, comfortingly.  

You almost reach for him, wanting to feel his arms around you, comforting you even though you don’t need it.

In real life, Dave doesn’t move from the couch. Instead, he says, “I’ll let you off the hook this time. But if I get you any other jewelry, you’d better wear it,” he says.

Other jewelry?  

Before you can ask, he sits up, pulling you up with him.  He glances out the window, and you see that it’s almost dark.  “I’d better go.  You know how Bro gets if I’m not home before dark,” he says, using his age old excuse.

You want him to stay. You really do.  But, just like Dave has responsibilities, you do too. While his involve killing demons, yours involve feeding yourself.

You are a growing incubus, after all.  

When Dave leaves, you kiss him sweetly and shut the door behind him.  You listen to his footsteps pick up as he hurries away.

The image comes to your mind again, of Dave with his katana.  You feel the cold hard metal plunged in your chest. You see your blood cascading down your body and down his blade, covering you both as you die by his hands.

It’s so real.  It’s almost like a terrible memory.

You shake your head.  You don’t know what this is, but it won’t happen. What you and Dave have together is special.  He’ll never hurt you like that.  He won’t.

As you head back into your house, you convince yourself of that fact.

And yet, some small part of you can’t help wondering if this is all already woven in your fate.  Is this something that happened already?  Is this a vision of what is to come?

You have no answers, and the one person you could possibly ask, you can’t.  Your grandma would never understand.

You try to ignore it, but all night the troubling thoughts linger in your mind.

[stil-lindigo]

beachside bonzoes

AN: hello everybody! this is something different to what i usually do so uh. please be kind. I was going to post this yesterday but with the cancelling of dirk gently i decided to put it off to today. i thought we might all need some fluffy rowdy time.

summary: the Oh No van’s AC breaks down and the rowdies terrorise a tourist beach. there’s family, anarchy and just the slightest bit of drummerwolf. also, the universe being super passive aggressive.

beachside bonzoes

Squinting against the bright, burning, sun, Amanda Brotzman downs the last of her water from her water bottle and groans.

‘Ugh,’ she mutters as she slumps back into her tattered passenger seat. ‘It’s like I’m drinking my own sweat.’

‘Ewww, boss!’ Vogel yelps in disgust from the backseat. ‘Now I’m roastin’ and grossed out.’

 ‘Gross-ting,’ Gripps’ voice is croaky from where he’s splayed out on the red seats, arm slung over his face. Cross lies beneath him, diligently fanning both Cross and Vogel with old magazines.

 ‘Toasting,’ he adds with a tired chuckle. Nearby, Beast emits a low growl.

 ‘We’re fucking burnt, boys,’ Amanda sighs and glances over at their shitty air conditioner chugging out metallic-smelling but cold air. Martin grunts at her from the driver’s seat before she can get a word out.

 ‘ ‘s on the highest setting, drummer. Ain’t nothin’ gonna make it work harder.’

 Amanda groans louder and rolls the grimy window down, staring out at the passing landscape with a tangible irritation. This suffocating heat had been plaguing them for a few days now and the new, thinner clothes they’d managed to snatch at a roadside op shop were already filthy from sweat. The Disney shirt Vogel had been so excited about had been the first casualty and was now operating as a bright, pink sweat rag.  

 Martin, strangely enough, didn’t seem to be too affected by the heat. In saying that though, the boys had basically stripped down to their boxers the moment the temperature went over 40 degrees. Amanda still held a sneaking suspicion that the one reason they weren’t going commando was because of her and Beast.

 At her millionth deliberating sigh, Martin taps her on the shoulder and silently hands her a cigarette, gesturing to the window.

 ‘Do I look that bad?’ she mutters wryly and he shrugs, a small smirk gracing his features.

 Without any preferable option, Amanda leans out the window and breathes in the addicting scent of smoke. Martin uses a pretty shitty brand but it’s all she’s got and right now, it tastes like heaven. Like something akin pathetic fallacy – a big word she learned in high school that she never used again after graduating – a miraculous cool breeze sweeps by, ruffling her tied up hair so that strands break free from the hair tie and swirl around her face.

 ‘Thank you, universe,’ she breathes blissfully and then immediately regrets it because, as always, the universe just loves to mess with people. The moment the words leave her mouth, their air conditioner makes a horrible, sputtering grate of a sound and wheezes out a foul-smelling cloud of smoke. Martin smacks it with increasing severity and, after the third strike, knocks the grate clean off. The air conditioner does not restart.

 ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me.’ Amanda could cry. And she only cries at dogs dying and beautiful canyons. From the backseat, Vogel whimpers out a long exasperated groan that, with Beast’s help, quickly devolves into a strung-out growl.

 ‘The hell.’ The short, plaintive word is the only indication that Gripps isn’t dead.

 Cross is already clambering over the others and pushes in between Amanda and Martin in the front. For a second, he squints at the smoking mess of an AC.

 ‘Yep,’ he grunts. ‘That’s busted.’

 ‘Fuck,’ Amanda drags her hands down her face and then snatches up her phone. As always, the battery is dying but it’s got enough. ‘Google maps, don’t fail me now. There better be a mechanic close by.’

 Within a few minutes, she’s found one only a few miles away. It’ll mean a detour from their usual, instinct-driven route but if it means a working air conditioner, they’re more than willing. It’s when they’re only a few minutes away that Amanda stops mid-instruction at the sight of a sliver of blue.

 ‘It’s the ocean!’ Amanda bolts upright and sticks her head out the window, watching as a sandy bay sneaks into view.

 ‘What is that?’ Vogel, marginally less comatose, leans over Amanda and squints at it. From behind him, Gripps does the same and suddenly all of the rowdies are tumbling into the front and Martin’s screeching to a stop.

 ‘That’s one big lake,’ Gripps says. ‘Where are the giant ducks?’

 ‘That’s a lotta…’ Vogel fumbles for a word. ‘Yellow. What’s it doing there?’

 ‘It’s sand,’ Cross grins. ‘It’s wannabe dirt.’

 ‘That’s cool! I wanna touch it!’ and with that, Vogel’s out the door and running down to the bay. Whooping, Cross and Gripps follow, towing a confused and disoriented Beast behind them.

 ‘C’mon, Boss!’ Vogel shouts back around halfway down the hill and Amanda glances back at Martin. He shrugs.

 ‘Why not? It’ll cool them off.’ He says. ‘Go on and join ‘em. I can take the van myself.’

 ‘Really? We can always take it later.’

 ‘Sooner the better, right? Also-’ Martin pauses and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t do well with sand.’

 ‘How Skywalker of you,’ Amanda smiles at his confused expression as she hops down to the ground.

 ‘I don’t get it.’

 ‘Yeah, sorry. It’s a reference,’ she says. ‘But don’t go alone. At least take Beast with you.’

 Ever since Blackwing separated the rowdies, Amanda’s felt wary of letting any of them go anywhere alone. It’s a paranoia that she’s just a little bit embarrassed by but she would be perfectly happy if she was never separated from this family – her family – ever again. Conveniently, Martin is an emotionally-aware vampire and, maybe its because of that that he lightens the mood with a low chuckle.

 ‘Don’t think I’m scary enough to get a discount on my own?’

 ‘You?’ Amanda laughs. ‘Scary? Absolutely not.’

 ‘Oh?’ Martin produces a cigarette and lights it, fitting it snug between his lips.

 ‘You’re too lovable. Like a big dog.’

 He stares at her for a second, his jaw working around the cigarette, then shrugs, puffing out a wispy cloud of sweet smoke.

 ‘I can live with that.’

 ‘Boss! Look!’ Amanda turns at the sound of Vogel’s voice and comes face to face with a giant inflatable duck with some unfortunately drawn features.

 ‘Did you steal this?’

 ‘Nah, some guys threw it at us when we came near so we’re keeping it!’ Vogel’s face splits into a wide toothy grin. ‘It’s super cool!’

 Behind him, Gripps comes into view, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and glasses with blinds on them.

 ‘Drummer! There’s a clothes shop here! It’s crazy!’ he yells, gesturing down at a small shack down by the pier. ‘Look at this!’  And with that, he pulls the cord on the glasses and snaps the blinds shut. ‘My world is broken!’

 ‘Okay, please tell me you paid for this,’ Amanda pauses as she takes in the sight of the curtain glasses. ‘Actually, don’t. Don't tell me you used real money to get that.’

 ‘It’s a cash bash!’ Cross jumps in between them, smiling wide as he gestures to his new baseball cap that reads ‘Money Maker’. Amanda knows her face is wearing an expression but she has no idea what it is.

 ‘Why,‘ she says.

 ‘We paid, boss! Don’t worry, we used the money we stole from those bad suit guys before!’ Vogel shoves a handful of $50 notes in her face and bounds away like a hyper kangaroo. ‘Let’s go fight a fish!’

 Cross and Gripps whoop and bellow out their grunts of agreement and skid down the sandy bank. From behind her, Martin lets out a content chuckle and grabs a few notes from the bundle.

 ‘Guess I’ll be going then,’ he says. ‘Beast?’

 The rainbow-haired creature scurries up and leaps into the passenger seat with palpable relief. Beyond her, Martin sits back, turns the ignition and the van purrs into life. Amanda’s about to join her boys down at the beach when-

 ‘Oi, drummer.’

 ‘Yeah?’

 ‘Woof,’ he winks, deliberately, his smirk matching the quiet intensity of his eyes, and then the van’s gone, barreling down the road.

 It’s hot out, Amanda reminds herself as she makes her way down to the ocean. Flushed cheeks don’t mean a thing.

 --

 The beach-side clothes shop actually had a pretty decent selection, Amanda finds as she peruses their clothes racks.

 More than decent, in fact. Some strange few could say that it was in tune with the universe.

 After a few minutes, she emerges from the shop’s air conditioned depths wearing a worn-down ‘Mexican Funeral’ top and some skin-tight swimming bottoms. The top is thin and soft from age and the lettering is a bit cracked but, as Amanda flaps it to let a cool breeze in, she finds that it’s completely what she’d expect. The store clerk’s face had lit up when she’d handed it over for him to ring up – apparently the band was ‘super obscure’ but ‘totally underrated’ and it wouldn’t even be stocked if the guy hadn’t insisted to ship some in.

 Damned universe. Too nosy for its own good.

 I get it, she thinks to the universe as she sprints down to the water, picking up speed. Call your brother. But not right now. Right now-

 And here, she kicks off her boots, her socks and jumps –

 -right now, I’m cooling off.

 With a thunderous splash, she’s underwater and the change is instant - the water is shockingly cold, biting into her skin like a knife before her body catches up with the plunge in temperature. Bubbles foam around her in clouds and she grins, giddy off the relief of the sea on her burning skin and watches water rush past her as she boosts herself to the surface. She breaks into open air to the whoops and cheers of her boys. They’re all around her, wet and dirty and sweaty and hers and she bundles them into a tight, slippery hug, laughing and shouting with them as they drag her into their rhythm. It’s dumb, this is so dumb, playing like toddlers seeing the sea for the first time but then she remembers the years she spent in fear in her dim, crusty room and – even more than that – the boys, for them, this might be their first time so she lets the world go and blows raspberries into the air. Cross squeezes their inflatable duck ring around her and he and Gripps haul her up and carry her towards the horizon, like she’s a queen on a yellow plastic throne.

 ‘We’re fucking insane!’ Cross howls over the crash of the waves and they roar, together, with their squeaking inflatable duck and handfuls of seaweed and wet sand. High off exhilaration, Vogel dives underneath and pops out of the water with a starfish in each hand, giggling.

 ‘You’re a star, kid!’ Amanda speaks like a talk show host and Vogel beams.

 ‘I don’t know what that is!’ he hollers and in an instant, the starfish are chucked back into the water and he’s leaping at Amanda, arms outstretched. ‘Capsiiiize!’

 They go down like bowling pins, splashing back into the water. Amanda resurfaces, spitting out saltwater and picking seaweed out of her hair but she laughs and splashes Vogel right in his mischievous face.

 ‘You dick!’

 The plunge doesn't seem to slow down Cross and Gripp’s momentum and they drag up Vogel from under his armpits, slapping him on his back good-naturedly before they promptly dunk him back into the water. Instantly rebounding, Vogel flaps around his wet hair like a dog and smacks a clump of wet sand into Cross’ hair.

 It’s pretty dumb how much fondness she feels for these mud-slinging idiots. But she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of their reckless energy, their chaos that pumps life through her veins. Friends, family - they’re her boys and Amanda doesn’t think she could love them more. For a moment, a weird anxiety finds her (an attack? no, although she hates that she still feels a stab of fear at the thought of them) and she wonders if they know – she hopes they know how much she loves them.

 Suddenly, the ground is falling away and Amanda’s abruptly torn from her thoughts as Gripps unceremoniously chucks her onto his back.

 ‘Get yer head out of the clouds, drummer!’ he yells as he charges into the fray of the mudfight. ‘We gotta get some dirt on ya!’

 With bellows and laughter thrumming in her ears, Amanda leaves behind her cloudy thoughts and shrieks out a giddy battle cry.

 --

 Grant Brantley has worked at his little garage for a little over a decade. And maybe its because his business is right next to a tourist-magnet beach that brings in weirdoes from all over that makes his new customers a bit more normal. The man’s fine (even though his disproportionately-coloured hair is a bit odd). It’s more his friend that puts Grant off. She’s got brightly dyed hair and kind of a-a pale sort of complexion and he thinks she’s shaven off her eyebrows which makes her scurry-walk a bit more off-putting. Also she keeps on sniffing his tools. He just hopes she doesn’t start licking them.

 ‘Hey, um – ‘he turns to the man who said his name was Martin and then did not give a surname which makes Grant’s job a bit more difficult because usually he refers to the lads as misters but now he’s just gotta say ‘sir’ which makes him feel like a chimneysweep or a needy orphan and in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s older than Martin but what can you do? ‘-sir, your uh…could you please ask your friend to stop sniffing the merchandise? I swear they haven’t gone off.’

 It’s supposed to be a joke – an icebreaker, you know- but Martin nods, seriously, as if it's a legitimate concern.

 ‘Hey, Beastie,’ he clicks his fingers and the woman happily scuttles over, abandoning the outdoor display of wrenches. Grant thinks she’s talking to Martin but – god, she’s gotta be foreign, right? He can’t even understand what language he’s speaking. It sounds like she’s imitating a chain-smoking frog but – c’mon, Grant, don’t be mean, it’s not as if you’re a well-travelled bloke in the first place, what would you know about foreign culture. He chances a friendly smile at her and she returns it with a mouth of sharp teeth and a high whistle. Oh boy.

 ‘So,’ Martin clears his throat a bit awkwardly as he shifts on the step he’s sat upon. ‘How long will it take to fix the AC?’

 Thank god, familiar territory.

 ‘Oh, it’s a simple fix, really. An hour or so,’ Grant scratches his head thoughtfully as he takes in Martin’s hulking van. He thinks those are bullet holes peppered into its graffitied hide but honestly, he’s dealt with weirder.

 Upsell, he reminds himself, like those persuasive kids at the fast food places. ‘I could easily spruce up some stuff. She’s a bit of a clanker. And it won’t cost much more.’

 ‘Nah,’ Martin says not unkindly, and produces a battered pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his loose jeans. ‘Gotta get back soon.’

 Grant politely flicks out a lighter before Martin can and holds the flame steady for the other man. Martin nods appreciatively and, miraculously, Grant feels a bit less wary round the guy.

 ‘Got someone waitin’ for you?’ he says as he unlatches the car door and begins to work. From the corner of his eye, he sees Martin smile to himself.

 ‘Yeah, a few guys.’

 ‘And a girl, I bet,’ Grant replies. ‘Or a guy,’ he adds, catching himself at the sight of Martin’s odd expression. ‘Either is fine. Or none. I don’t mind. Love is love and all that.’

 He’s babbling now but Grant tends to get that way when he’s nervous. ‘Sorry, don't mean to impose. You looked mighty happy there is all. And don’t get me wrong, you can look happy about friends – I ain’t the type of guy to think we lads can’t have good, non-sexy relationships – but also, you know-’

 Martin laughs a small laugh but it’s got some mirth behind it so Grant trails off and hopes his furious backpedalling worked. The white-haired man puffs on his cigarette and leans his head to one side in a bit of a conceding shrug.

 ‘Yeah,’ he allows, after a second. ‘Yeah. I guess it’s a girl.’

 Martin doesn’t seem like he’s going to say any more on it so Grant doesn’t push it. Mentally, he breathes out a sigh of relief. Gosh, his big mouth has gotten him into problems in the past – he’s just glad that this time the weird guy seems alright. Might be the cigarettes. Hey, it might be a good idea to keep his supply stocked then, right? Right. Okay, good thinking, Brantley. Now suggest it without also implying he’s hooked because god knows you’ve come across some kooks who were adamant about their independence, honestly -

 ‘Hey, we’ve got some more cigs inside,’ Grant blurts out and gestures towards his little shop. ‘They’re right next to the cash register.’

 Martin looks surprised for a second.

 ‘Don’t think I’ll steal them? I’m just a stranger.’

 Grant shrugs.

 ‘They’re only $5. I’m not that hung up on money,’ he pauses. ‘Also I can see you through the window.’

 The white-haired man huffs out a chuckle. ‘Mm. Smart building design.’

 He stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets and gives an appreciative nod to Grant.

 ‘Thanks, Mr Brantley. Might take you up on your offer.’

 ‘Might?’

 ‘Gotta check the brands first,’ he grunts jokingly and he makes his way into the service shop.

 Grant turns back to the van and mentally dances a happy jig. He knows the type of guy Martin is – he’s met a wide bunch of people in this job – and that exchange was good, as in it was a Big Deal in its goodness. The guy feels less intimidating now that they’ve had that conversation. In fact, now he thinks he shouldn’t watch through the window in that half-looking-but-also-could-just-be-engrossed-in-the-rear-view-mirror way he’s cultivated.

 The choice of whether or not he spies on Martin, however, gets thrown to the side at the sound a familiar revving engine. Grant groans and puts his head in his hands. Really? Now?

 With a screech, a sleek, scarlet sports car rounds the corner and skids to a stop directly in front of the workshop. Its occupants, a group of four, tank-top wearing young men, clamber out with whoops and guffaws. Grant sees that one of their shirts simply reads ‘You Suck’. Another, who he knows has not served, is wearing dog tags on a necklace. One of the men, the shortest, steps forward and leers at Grant.

 ‘Hey, Mister Brantley,’ he sneers. ‘What’s up?’

 ‘Hello, Sherwood,’ Grant steps away from Martin’s van and approaches the teenager with a palpable reluctance. ‘Are you drunk again?’

 Immediately, Sherwood’s smile is replaced by a snarl and he jabs an accusatory finger at Grant.

 ‘Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?’ he hisses. ‘Don’t forget my dad owns these parts. You complain and I’ll kick your ass out of here. You’re already on thin ice with your asshat son.’

 ‘I’m –’ Grant sighs. This is the worst. ‘I’m not going to complain.’

 ‘Good,’ Sherwood sneers. ‘Go get me n’ my boys some smokes.’

 Grant is about to go in when he remembers – Martin. The white-haired man is staring at him over the countertop, a new pack of cigarettes in his hand, and from where he’s standing, Grant can see he’s put down a $5 bill next to the till. The older man shrugs, overcome by embarrassment, and brushes past Martin apologetically. With a sigh, he begins piling boxes of cigarettes into a plastic shopping bag.

 ‘They ain’t gonna pay for those, are they.’

 It’s more of a statement than a question really and Grant grimaces.

 ‘No. They’re not. But what can I do?’ He ties off the end of the bag with a forceful twist. ‘Charlie – that’s my boy, really smart kid, he’s gonna do great things – Charlie’s gotten into a fight with Sherwood over there. His dad owns this land and money ain’t real consistent – this is a tourist place, you know.’

 Grant doesn’t completely know why he’s telling Martin this stuff.

 Something about him makes you wanna spill your beans, he thinks to himself. Whether in fear or not.

 A striking yelp jolts him out of his thoughts and his gaze whips to the boys standing in his parking lot who are currently fending off a rainbow-haired woman. He sprints out of the shop to find her – Beast – circling them on all fours and forcing them back with intermittent snarls.

 ‘Ma’am!’ Grant calls out, a bit lost. ‘Uh-ma’am please uh-’

 Sherwood’s head shoots up at the sound of Grant’s voice.

 ‘Oi, Brantley!’ he shouts, furious. ‘Is she yours?!’

 ‘No! Sherwood, she’s uh – a customer- ’

 ‘A customer?’ one of Sherwood’s friends shrieks out. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

 ‘Bullshit!’ Sherwood screams and Beast answers with an even louder growl that sends the boys backing away towards their car. Sherwood levels an icy glare towards Grant. ‘Look at you, using this bitch to chase us off. You could’ve just given us the smokes, you dick!’

 ‘Sherwood, wait-’

 ‘Beast.’

 Martin steps out beyond Grant who is currently fumbling for words and approaches the woman. She whips around at his footsteps but immediately softens at the sight of him. Grant’s close enough to hear that she says something that sounds like ‘meanie’. Meanwhile, Sherwood and his friends have already slipped into their sleek car and with a round of middle fingers, they’re hurtling away at breakneck speeds.

 Grant still doesn’t know what just happened.

 ‘Oh boy,’ he whispers to himself and his legs fold under him. Martin looks over with a placated and somewhat remorseful-looking Beast beside him. ‘What a shitshow. Pardon my language.’

 ‘Sorry,’ Martin says.

 ‘Don’t trouble yourself, son,’ Grant gestures offhandedly as Martin takes a seat on the concrete next to him. ‘This was comin’ sooner or later. In fact, I wish I could’ve done it myself instead of your friend obliging.’

 ‘Mm,’ Martin hums in agreement. ‘That’d be a sight to see.’

 ‘You know, Sherwood really ain’t that bad either,’ Grant chortles at Martin’s expression. ‘Yeah, I know. He used to be an okay kid, though. I think he got messed up in something shady a while back and now he feels invincible. He just needs a bit of a wake up call.’

 Martin wordlessly picks at his teeth, as if attempting to dislodge a morsel of food. Beside him, Beast swings back and forth on her haunches.

 ‘You scared, Mr Brantley?’ he asks, quietly. ‘Sherwood’s probably gonna go tell his pa.’

 ‘Oh yeah, I’m a little fearful,’ Grant sighs. ‘But you gotta roll with these punches.’

 ‘Damn straight,’ Martin claps him on the back and gets to his feet and stretches, yawning wide.

 ‘Tired?’

 He shrugs.

 ‘Just ready for a meal.’

 --

 It’s around when Vogel’s finishing up on burying Cross in sand that Amanda notices the ice-cream.

 ‘Hey!’ she yells from where she’s floating on the inflatable duck. ‘Look! People have ice cream!’

 At her shout, a number of people give them weird looks but she’s used to it by now. Weird is good when it means you get a strip of beach all to yourself. Gripps arises from the shallows where he’s arranged seaweed on his forehead like a wig and scares a nearby unwitting couple.

 ‘We’ve got ice cream here?’ he says. ‘Why aren’t we eating it then dying from brainfreeze?’

 As if to demonstrate, Vogel flops to the ground in mock-unconsciousness, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth with carefree abandon.

 ‘Brainfreeze!’ he echoes and from underneath, Cross fist bumps his way out of his sandy casket.

 ‘Waffle cones!’ he yells and somehow produces a sun hat to slap over Vogel’s head. ‘They’re good crispy.’

 Amanda’s already wading up to meet them, dragging her loyal duck behind her as she approaches the still partially-buried Cross.

 ‘You still got the money, Money-maker?’ she asks wryly and he slings off his cap to show the notes stuffed into the seam.

 ‘You know it, boss,’ he flashes a toothy grin. ‘Get me a bubblegum.’

 ‘Sweet tooth,’ she pokes him on his nose and he laughs, loud and mischievous. Suddenly, Vogel drops into Cross’ lap and grabs Amanda’s face by her cheeks.

 ‘Pineapple for me, boss!’ he grins from ear to ear. From nearby, Gripps adds ‘And boysenberry!’

 ‘Boys-enberry!’ Vogel repeats and giggles at his own joke. ‘Boys!’

 Rolling her eyes, Amanda pecks Vogel on the forehead and revels in the brief silence that follows as he blinks up at her, beaming.

 ‘We get it, Vogel,’ she says then slinks out of his grip even as he laughs and whoops with the other boys.

 ‘Love you, boss!’ he calls after her and even though she groans from embarrassment and waves them away, Amanda can’t help the grin the creeps across her features.

 Surprisingly, the ice cream stall doesn't have a very long queue – probably because Amanda and her boys only noticed it after the big crowds left - and she gets to the front sooner than anticipated.

 ‘Cool shirt,’ the girl serving her comments and smiles at her. ‘They’re a great band.’

 ‘Yeah,’ Amanda slaps the dollar bills down on the counter and thinks passive-aggressively to the universe to chill. ‘I like your septum piercing.’

 ‘Oh! Thanks,’ she giggles and flicks her long aqua-blue pigtails over her back, revealing her own shirt that bears a faded illustration of a Rorschach symbol floating in an eyeball. Unbidden, Amanda feels a smile spread across her face. Good times.

 ‘Do you want these in a box?’ the girl asks, unaware of Amanda’s thoughts.

 ‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ Amanda says and then, just for good measure, she winks and adds in a secretive tone, ‘As good as I am with my hands, four at once is a bit much.’

 At that, ice-cream girl laughs, really laughs, and her tanned cheeks tinge with red.

 ‘Nice,’ she says and hands Amanda the holder full of ice cream cones with a smile. ‘Come again soon!’

 She doesn’t even get a block away from the stall before Amanda’s already licking her own salted caramel ice cream cone. The taste of it is sweet and relieving after a day of fish and chips and trashy oil-soaked food. Also, she got a strawberry cone and flavoured ice cream cones are one of the better inventions of humanity. The slap of her store-bought flip flops on the burning pavement and the cold creeping through her body from the ice cream leads her into an almost-mesmerising trance. As she walks, she makes up a tune to hum and its like merging a few of her favourite songs together, a mashup of the metal radio station the Oh No Van tunes into from time to time. For some reason, Amanda wonders what Martin would’ve chosen from the ice cream stall.

 Is there a nicotine flavor? she thinks to herself, wryly. But the thought brings back a memory from earlier that day – when Martin had given her the cigarette. And it’s as Amanda’s licking her rapidly melting ice cream that she remembers that it had already been lit and halfway done by the time he’d handed it to her. Which means -

 ‘Fuck!’ Amanda saves herself from tripping just in time and steadies the ice cream cones in their respective holders. There’s melted ice cream all over her hand now but there’s enough still in the cone that the boys will be happy. ‘Jeez, get yourself together.’

 From behind her comes a piercing wolf whistle.

 ‘Hey! Sweet cheeks! Bend over again!’

 Amanda’s eyes shoot open wide and she turns around excruciatingly slow to come face to face with two burly guys coming up behind her.

 ‘Excuse me?’ she’s trying to inject as much disgust as she can into the words, but apparently these idiots have skulls made of steel because nothing’s getting through it. They snort and guffaw at her expression. One air-thrusts at her.

 ‘Jesus Christ,’ Amanda mutters to herself then faces the two guys directly. ‘What is this, 2005? Get a hobby, you walking troglodytes.’

 The men make mockingly awe-struck gasps. The air-humper steps forward to close the distance between them.

 ‘Oooh, you know big words! Doesn’t make you better than us.’ he says in a sing-song tone. Amanda considers stuffing her icecream down his throat and decides it’d be too kind. ‘And we were just being nice. Jesus, learn how to take a compliment.’

 ‘It doesn’t take much to be better than you,’ Amanda replies coldly. ‘Knowing big words like ‘troglodyte’ should immediately put me out of your league.’

 The man’s smile falls instantly and he makes a grab for her shoulder but she’s already dodged and is considering kicking his incredibly kick-able groin when the familiar growl of an engine roars up behind her.

‘Drummer,’ Martin says in acknowledgement. Beyond him, Beast waves furiously with a new wrench which still has its price tag stuck on. ‘Nice ice creams.’

 ‘Thanks.’

 Martin glances at the two men standing before them and his gaze instantly cools by a few degrees. Even though they’re obviously wary of the newcomer, the two guys have stuck around which either makes them even more idiotic than she originally thought or – nope, they’re just idiots.

 ‘ ‘s there a problem?’ he asks, his tone icy.

 ‘I don’t know,’ Amanda turns back to look at the pair of walking examples of toxic masculinity and raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Is there?’

 The two guys mumble something incoherent – probably an insult of some kind – but they hurry past, their pace quickening the longer Martin stares after them.

 ‘Troglodytes,’ she mutters.

 ‘Nice insult.’

 ‘I learnt it off a TV show.’

 ‘Even better.’

 ‘Oi! Boss!’ Vogel comes barreling up the hill and it’s only Amanda’s quick reflexes that save the ice cream cones from being toppled onto the pavement. He steers around quickly, leaping up onto the hood on the van in one swift motion and waves at the occupants inside. ‘You found Martin and Beastie!’

 ‘And you got my Bubblegum!’ Cross snatches his cone from the box quickly and immediately bites into the ice cream. His ensuing expression is somehow triumphant and regretful at the same time. For some reason, Gripps does the exact same thing for his cone and does not get different results.

 ‘Hey, drummer,’ Cross manages to say as he recovers. ‘What was up with those brickheads that were here just now?’

 Martin clicks his tongue in disgust and taps the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

 ‘They were peacocking, boys,’ he says grimly and the resulting wave of disapproving growls is deafening.

 ‘Way old school,’ Gripps mutters. ‘Way crusty.’

 ‘Damn tail-flickers,’ Vogel seconds.

 Cross licks his lips and glares after the retreating forms of the two men.

 ‘Anybody else hungry?’ he hisses and the other rowdies bellow in agreement, already moving to chase after them.

 ‘Boys.’

 And like that, they halt, shifting to Martin for direction even though Vogel’s foot still taps away on the concrete, impatient.

 ‘We got a bigger meal waiting for us,’ he smirks dangerously and the rowdies erupt in cheers and congratulatory roars, already clambering into the hollow depths of the van. ‘Ready for dinner?’

 With a fond lick and snicker, Beast vacates her seat for Amanda and leaps into the back to curl up on the red velvet floor. Amanda settles herself into the leathery front seat, slams the car door behind her and turns the AC up to the max setting, whistling appreciatively at the blast of cold air sweeping through the van.

 ‘You’ve been busy, haven’t you?’ she grins at Martin and he answers with a toothy chuckle.

 ‘I get around,’ he replies then slams on the ignition, lurching forward and bellowing over the growing howls of their rowdies.

 ‘Now who’s hungry for take-out?!’

 --

 Amanda wolfs down the last of her Chinese food from its plastic box and sinks back into the sand with a content sigh. At her left, the six-pack of beer she bought at the convenience store remains submerged in a blue plastic bucket Vogel had stolen and filled with cold seawater.

 ‘Beer over sandcastles,’ he’d reasoned as he handed it to her. She couldn’t really argue with that.

 It’s cooled down now that the evening’s creeping in and she appreciates the cool breeze. It’s a bit of a relief to relax after pummeling those frat boys into the hood of their own car. Amanda’s hand automatically twitches at the memory of swinging Beast’s wrench into the headlight and laughing as the glass had showered over her.

 Kind of dangerous, now that she thinks about it. But she made it out unscathed. So it was probably universally predestined to happen. Amanda grabs a beer bottle and lifts it up to the sky in a toast.

 Rest in peace, car, she thinks to herself then downs a mouthful. I barely knew thee.

 Quietly, she reflects on the pit stop they made before returning to the beach: a garage owned by a Mr Brantley who she only knew from overhearing Martin’s brief conversation with him. Seemed like a sweet guy. Owned a decent brand of smokes. And he’d patted Martin’s shoulder like he was his dad, despite them seeming to be around the same age. Weirdest thing about it was that Martin let him.

 The sun peeks out from behind a purple-pink cloud and she squints. Nearer to the horizon, her rowdies are still splashing in the ocean with their boundless energy. They’re the only ones still there seeing as most of the beach-goers had left around an hour ago but they make enough noise that it would be easy to mistake a crowd still remaining. The stragglers still tend to give them a wide berth and it suits them just fine. Struck by inspiration, Amanda sits up and she howls, letting her voice taper off into the sky. To her utmost joy, her family answers with matching enthusiasm.

 One of them breaks off from the pack and lopes up to sit on the bank next to her. Wordlessly, she hands him a bundled-up dry shirt she’d been using as a pillow to dry off his sopping wet hair with.

 ‘How are you still wearing your glasses?’

 Martin grunts and points at the green band tying the legs together behind his head.

 ‘Rubber bands. Versatile.’

 ‘Uh huh. But you still can’t see with all the droplets on them.’

 He shrugs and ruffles out his semi-dry hair into a comically fluffy-looking mohawk.

 ‘Survived through worse. Remember the red goggles?’

 Amanda laughs at the memory but the reminder of Wendimoor sends her thoughts towards someone else. She sinks back into the sand with a low groan.

 Todd.

 They’d parted ways after the Wendimoor escapade a few weeks ago and she’d promised to check in from time to time. But, somehow, the prospect of a first phone call after recently making up with him is scary as shit. The stupid thing is that she can’t even put her finger on what is so terrifying about it. They’d sent each other little dumb texts (mainly pictures of the new detective agency and then games of ‘Spot Mona in this messy workplace!’) in the first week and a half but even that mode of communication had died out. Yeesh. ‘Died out’. Bad choice in words, considering the trouble they got themselves into.

 Speaking of that, Todd could be on a new case right now. Todd could be in trouble.

 And yet, she still doesn’t want to call.              

 Amanda sits herself up, shaking sand out of her hair, to find Martin staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

 ‘What?’

 ‘I can hear you thinking there, drummer,’ he mutters softly. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

 She runs a hand through her hair sheepishly.

 ‘I’ve gotta call my brother.’

 ‘Toad?’

 ‘His name is Todd. But Toad totally works. He’ll love it.’

 Martin looks out thoughtfully towards the horizon.

 ‘You’ve got time. Phone’s in the van right now.’

 Amanda chews on her lip for a second.

 ‘I mean. I could always do it tomorrow.’

 ‘Putting it off isn’t very punk.’

 ‘Oh, fuck off,’ she snickers and punches him in the arm good-naturedly. She’s 90% sure he doesn’t even feel it.

 ‘C’mon, drummer,’ he continues. ‘What’s keepin’ you?’

 Her smile falters and her eyes dart down, away. It’s personal, this stuff, family stuff. But she’s gotta face this at some point, doesn’t she? And here, in the dying sunlight with a fresh pack of beer…

 She knocks her head back and gulps down the rest of bottle’s contents, hissing as it burns on the way down. On her left, Martin watches her with a half-cocked eyebrow.

 ‘Okay, so,’ she slams her hands down as she starts but they kind of just disturb a sand pile which irks her a bit. ‘Me n’ Todd have technically made up but like, there’s still a lot of weird boundaries here and I don’t know, my head’s still not the greatest and I-’

 She trails off as she looks over at Martin. He’s listening, really listening, with his eyes trained directly on her and his genuine intensity makes an irrational guilt rise up in her.

 Stop sidestepping the issue, she tells herself and sighs.

 ‘I’m scared of getting close to him again,’ she says finally. ‘Old Todd was a complete shithead built entirely on lies. And New Todd is…new. And I know he’s trying. But I don’t know how New Todd is going to be.’

 Amanda looks out towards the horizon. She feels tired, for some reason. There’s something else she wanted to say, something about her not wanting to get hurt again, but that seems a bit too cheesy. And, as she looks over to gauge Martin’s reaction, she finds her eyes meeting his and she feels like he already knows.

 Damn emotion-sensing vampires.

 He releases a gravelly sigh and looks out at the sea as well. His glasses have dried off somewhat and now they shine, reflecting the weakening sunlight onto his well-defined features.

 ‘You won’t know until you try,’ he says after a little while. ‘Give it a shot. It’ll be better than nothing.’

 ‘Will it?’

 ‘You don’t let opportunities pass you by, drummer,’ at this, he turns to her and grins. ‘You tie a note to a brick and throw it at them.’

 ‘…sweet talker,’ she mumbles because it makes her smile, as dumb as it is, and she props her elbows on her knees, trying to hide the dusting of red spreading across her cheeks.

Dammit, he’s right. Or she’s right. At some point, her wariness had lessened and now she thinks it’s the only course of action really left for her. The fear’s still there, simmering, but it’s tolerable. And god, she’s faced down psychopathic shape witches and, even worse, dudebros so what the hell. With a purposeful exhale, she dusts the sand off her knees and gets to her feet.

 ‘Okay. I’m doing it,’ she announces and Martin nods in encouragement.

 ‘It’s in the cupholder,’ he says and turns away, giving her privacy as she makes her way up to the van parked behind them.

 Amanda’s grateful he doesn’t follow. This is something she needs to do alone. Desperately, she remembers what she’s about to do and her brain races to formulate a plan but, goddamnit, the walk to the van really isn’t that long and then she’s there, the phone is in her hand and she’s punching in Todd’s phone number.

 Amanda breathes out a shaky exhale, her other hand clenching into a fist at her side, and then hits the green call button.

 --

 ‘Dirk, there a lot of black cats out there,’ Farah explains exasperatedly. On the opposite side of the diner table, Dirk stops shoveling his strawberry pancakes into his mouth and looks up, eyes twinkling with inspiration.

 ‘Maybe we can make an ad specifically catered to black cats associated with a range of disappearances or gorey murders!’ After a second, Dirk’s beaming expression falters. ‘Wait, actually –’

 ‘Why are we even using our resources on this?’ Todd interrupts as he picks at his own scrambled eggs and toast. Farah gives him a pointed look.

 ‘Because it’s a liability! We’ve got to take care of loose ends!’ she explains. ‘And, maybe we can harness its-its sharkness and use that for ourselves!’

 ‘I don’t know, Farah,’ Todd mutters. ‘I don’t think it’ll be that easy to control kitten-shark. Because, you know, it’s literally a shark in a kitten. Like, what if we forget to take out its litterbox one day? Do we just get chomped?’

 Dirk lifts up his maple-syrupy fork in his I-have-a-point-to-make way.

 ‘But Todd, I should say this,’ he says. ‘The kitten-shark did seem to like me. Maybe I’m the key!’

 ‘Yeah and what a shocker that would be,’ Todd says wryly and moves to pick up his fork so that he can eat more of his meal. Immediately, Dirk slaps him hard on his shoulder. ‘Whoa, what the hell?’

 ‘That’s. Mona!’ Dirk states deliberately and holds up an identical fork. ‘This is your fork!’

 ‘How can you even tell?’

 Dirk blinks at him, wide-eyed.

 ‘It’s obvious!’

 Before Todd can succinctly point out why that is such bullshit, his phone buzzes loudly from its place by his plate and he nearly forgets how to breathe when he sees the caller ID.

 ‘Holy shit!’ he says, snatching it up. ‘Oh my god, it’s Amanda!’

 ‘Oh, amazing!’ Dirk claps his hands together giddily and reaches for the phone. ‘We haven’t spoken to her in ages!’

 ‘Wait what? No-I-just let me-’ Todd hits the answer button quickly and gets out of their booth, striding into a quieter, more private area. ‘Amanda? Amanda, are you okay?’

 ‘Uh. Yeah. Just calling to check in with you,’ It’s thin and tinny but it’s her voice, not the voice of some would-be kidnapper, so Todd breathes a sigh of relief. ‘I call for things other than disasters, Todd.’

 ‘Yeah,’ he laughs, a bit nervous. ‘Sorry. Habit, you know.’

 ‘Right,’ she says and it’s kind of awkward but a background noise catches his attention.

 ‘Are those…waves?’

 ‘Yeah, I’m at a beach. It was super hot today and our AC broke so we’re hanging out here now.’

 ‘And how are your uh-,‘ Todd fumbles for a word for her gang. ‘-your friends?’

 ‘The rowdies? Oh, they’re loving it. They’re like, half naked and just fucking around in the water,’ Amanda’s voice gains a conspiratorial tone. ‘I’m including Beast in this description by the way so you can report back to Dirk.’

 Todd sniggers as he imagines how Dirk would react to the insinuation.

 ‘Sounds like you guys are having a good time.’

 ‘We are! Well, most of us. Martin doesn’t like sand.’

 ‘Wow, very Skywalker,’ he replies and smiles at the sound of Amanda’s laugh.

 ‘Yeah, that’s what I said!’ she says and, yet again, there’s a short, tense silence. ‘So uh, how’s it going on your end?’

 ‘Oh, well, we’re at a diner right now: me and Dirk and Farah. Dirk got a huge stack of strawberry pancakes that he’s definitely gonna regret soon.’

 ‘Pancakes? Isn’t it kinda late for that?’

 ‘Yeah, Dirk says evening pancakes are a thing. Mona’s here too but I’m still not entirely sure what she is,’ Todd squints back at his booth from which Dirk furiously waves with a fork that could or could not be Mona.

 ‘Sweet. So no new case yet?’

 ‘Well, you know how it works. A case’ll come when it wants to.’

 Amanda snorts.

 ‘Soooo you guys are just sitting on your asses?’

 ‘No! We-we’re trying to find the kitten-shark right now. Farah says it’s a liability we’ve gotta take responsibility of.’

 ‘Dude, it’s been ages. That kitten is long gone. Although, I guess you can’t really argue when Farah’s in charge,’ she adds sympathetically. Todd nods in agreement then realizes she can’t see him.

 ‘Yeah, she can be really scary.’

 ‘But also scary hot.’

 ‘Amanda!’ he splutters and over the line she breaks into laughter. Again, it devolves into a strained sort of silence before Amanda coughs a bit self consciously.

 ‘Um. How have you been feeling, Todd?’ she says. ‘The attacks, they-’

 ‘Yeah, uh,’ Todd continues. ‘You know, they’re a thing. But the pills help. Yep.’

 A pause.

 ‘This is weird,’ Todd says.

 ‘So weird,’ Amanda seconds. ‘I need to be like, 200% more drunk for this.’

 ‘You’re drunk?’

 ‘How do you think this phone call is even happening?’

 ‘True. I should’ve guessed that.’

 ‘You’re part of a detective agency, man.’

 ‘Technically, the detective part is all Dirk.’

 ‘Doesn’t mean you can slack off, slacker.’

 The ensuing silence is marginally less awkward. Todd counts that as a win.

 ‘I think I need to go soon,’ Amanda says quickly and Todd rushes to respond.

 ‘Oh! Okay!’ he says. ‘Um. Stay safe! And uh – wear protection?’

 For a second, there’s just the sound of waves coming in from Amanda’s end then-

 ‘What. The fuck, Todd.’

 ‘I-I don’t know what you guys do so-!’

 ‘Are you fucking kidding m-’Amanda makes a soul-crushing groan. She kind of sounds like she’s dying. ‘We’re not, like, having orgies 24/7 or something, Todd! Jesus Christ!’

 ‘-you never tell me what you do! I’m just trying to cover all bases, here.’

 Another silence, this one more weighted than the others.

 ‘Was that a fucking pun.’

 ‘What?’

 ‘I can’t believe you!’

 ‘That was not – I mean, I guess it was – ’

 ‘You made a pun about - ’

 ‘- it was absolutely not intentional – ’

 ‘Okay, I am definitely leaving right now. Bye.’

 ‘Wait, Amanda!’ Todd exclaims and exhales in relief as the sound of the ocean doesn’t immediately cut off. Amana breathes out a despairing sigh.

 ‘Yeah?’

 Todd swallows down his nervousness.

 ‘I love you, Amanda. Thank you for calling,’ he says quietly. On the other end, the sound of waves. He’s getting used to the silences now. ‘You don’t have to answer or anythi-‘

 ‘Love you too, Todd,’ she blurts out. ‘Bye.’

 And then she’s gone and Todd is left feeling oddly satisfied with what was, all in all, a very strange conversation.

 ‘Yes!’ he hisses to himself and skips back over to his booth. Dirk and Farah look at him expectantly.

 ‘Well?’ Dirk asks. Todd grins mischievously.

 ‘Amanda wants you to know they’re at a beach and Beast is half naked.’

 ‘Oh for god’s sakes – ‘

 --

 Amanda nearly cracks her screen with how forcefully she ends the phone call and throws the device unceremoniously into the glovebox. Jesus Christ, her face is still red and she buries it in her hands for a good few seconds, desperately willing away the embarrassment.

 ‘Wear protection’. God.

 Still. That end part. That was okay.

 With a sigh, she closes the car door and climbs down the sandy slope. Martin doesn’t seem to have moved but now he’s smoking a fresh cigarette and he gestures for her to sit down.

 ‘I’m guessing it went well, then,’ he says as she slumps into the ground beside him.

 ‘Well yeah but you are an emotionally-conscious vampire,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘No need to guess.’

 ‘You’re smiling, drummer. Doesn’t take my abilities to know,’ he chuckles as she sputters in embarrassment. ‘Aaand there it goes.’

 ‘You’re so...’ Amanda grumbles, turning away. ‘May sand eternally plague you.’

 ‘Mm. Very ‘celestial punishment’. I like it.’

 In response, she kicks a wave of sand over his legs. Annoyingly, he doesn’t even move.

 ‘C’mon, drummer,’ he hands her a fresh bottle of beer from the bucket. ‘Truce.’

 She squints at him suspiciously and then snatches it out of his hands. Appeased, he leans back on his haunches and puffs out a cloud of smoke, content. For some reason, it strikes her in that moment as she sips from her bottle how bestial he really feels. Not savage, not like that. It’s more like he embodies the slow grace of a natural hunter, a predator. Eternally watchful.

 Amanda wonders, in her stupor of silent contemplation, if he came to her because she howled for him.

 ‘Somethin’ wrong, drummer?’

 She didn’t even notice that he’d moved to look back at her.

 ‘Just wondering if we’re leaving soon.’

 He shrugs and inclines his head towards her.

 ‘It’s your call. Remember, drummer, you’re the boss.’

 She laughs, shortly.

 ‘The boss? It took me a whole day to hype myself up for a phone call. With my brother.’

 ‘You did it, though. That’s something.’

 From him, the phrase somehow doesn’t seem like an empty platitude. Amanda stares at him for a second then sighs, conceding. And maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s how she’s so emotionally vulnerable after that phone call that she started waxing poetry. All she knows is that she suddenly feels very tired and she leans into Martin, her head sliding into the crook of his neck. His skin is still damp from the sea and the water seeps into her hair like cool, massaging fingers.

 ‘This doesn’t feel real,’ she whispers, her voice barely audible. ‘Any moment now, I’ll wake up in my bedroom and go through my list of pills to take and walk around my dumb, tiny house with the door that’s always locked and-’

 Amanda trails off as she feels the comforting weight of Martin’s fingers stroke through her hair.

 ‘It’s real, drummer,’ he says gruffly. ‘We’re here.’

 On any other day, this would seem impossible. But today, Amanda smashed a car, broke a frat boy’s nose, drank two bottles of bucket beer and made a phone call to her brother. So she can’t really help herself from leaning up and kissing Martin lightly on his cheek, smiling at the feeling of his bushy beard scratching at her skin. And then she’s on her feet and running down to the waves, joining her rowdies who welcome her with shouts and cheers, desperately affirming to her that this is her life, this is real, and she captures each one’s face in her hands and kisses them on their forehead, their nose, their cheeks.

 ‘I love you,’ she whispers into them and they hear and celebrate with whoops and laughter and glee and there’s no more silence. No more empty, cramped house in her mind, no pills, no lies.

 It can’t be a dream. She knows this now. Her mind couldn’t have even imagined this, much less force it onto her in her sleep.

 And then Martin is there, picking her up and swinging her around, his hand solidly placed on her back to hold her close and she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing into his skin. She makes a deep happy sigh and giggles.

 ‘I am so drunk,’ she says and she falls back, knowing with an unfailing certainty that her family will be there to catch her before she hits the water.